Battle of Nyeg Warl Page 16

  “Am I seeing what I think that I'm seeing,” the young Woodswane inquired.

  “Yes! The Mythorians are waterkynd.” Alynd's eyes flashed blue in the silvery moonlight as he watched a number of the waterkynd slip out of their pools and come drifting towards them. “Beings not unlike ourselves, they have emotions, morals and families. Unlike us, they're not made of flesh and blood. Their warl consists of water and water is what they are made of.”

  Once the Mythorians touched the fern-covered ground, their shapes firmed up, making them look more human.

  “Greetings minstrel.” The waterkynd's voice sounded like falling rain. “Though we're always glad to see you, may I ask what brings you here?”

  “Greetings, Sproush.” Alynd bowed as he spoke. “I have come to seek your help.”

  “What do you need?”

  “We need your protection.”

  “Protection?”

  Speaking at length, Alynd told Sproush about all that had transpired in the Hall of the Eagle King, about Jeaf's vision, their flight to the Oakenfel home, the battle with Koyer and their struggle with Schmar's children.

  Having heard this report, the Mythorians gathered, as was their custom, in an interlocking ring to discuss matters. Slowly lifting off the ground, their bodies became more vaporous the higher they went. Round-and-round they twirled, as deliberations ensued. Then all at once, the ring collapsed into a single cloud of vapor that descended on the two men.

  Jeaf's flesh tingled as the Mythorians touched him, encouraging him to allow them to probe his mind. Sensing their intentions were good, he willingly submitted.

  Pleased with his response, the cloud dropped lower.

  Looking over at Alynd, the young Woodswane could hardly distinguish his features behind the glistening mist that continued to thicken until the Elf-Man disappeared. Growing brighter-and-brighter, the cloud's whiteness intensified until it stung Jeaf's eyes, making him close them to avoid the painful illumination.

  After a time, the light, shining through his eyelids, vanished. Rapidly blinking, afraid of the pain that had stung him, Jeaf ventured a peek. When soothing darkness entered his pupils and rushed into his wary brain, the young Woodswane opened his eyes and saw the waterkynd cloud assume its former duller appearance.

  Then, to Jeaf's utter horror, a deep rumbling laughter filled the air with the stench of rotting things, and an ominous voice said, “Superstitious woman, do you trust in a candle's flame?” Now sounding more like a roar, it added, “Don't you know, I light my banquet hall with your precious candles!”

  Looking past Alynd and beyond the shimmering cloud still enveloping them, Jeaf saw they were now surrounded by pine trees, those that looked strangely familiar. Once he saw the barn his father used as his workshop, he realized why this was so.

  The situation was hard for Jeaf to grasp! Somehow, the Mythorians were able to replay the battle that had taken place outside the Oakenfel home; possibly, they were able to extract the memory of that night from his mind; or, the young Woodswane shuddered at the thought, maybe they had actually been carried back in time and were standing in the woods outside his home, alongside the Lord of Regret and his minions. At this reckoning, Jeaf hurriedly hid himself in the underbrush. Alynd followed close behind. The cloud of waterkynd moved along with them.

  Fear began welling up in the young Woodswane like a clot of spoiled food he had swallowed and now wished to regurgitate. His breathing became labored. The stench, coming from the rot of Koyer's dark power and from the lessor evil emitted by his followers, was suffocating. A hand, covered with cold sweat, reached for his sword. Jeaf was getting ready to fight.

  Startled by the sounds of battle, he turned to see Bear savagely pounding a clay giant with his metal-studded club.

  “Got t'give Shorty and his folks times t'escape!” Jeaf heard the young giant grunt out his words as he let his lethal weapon fly again-and-again.

  Seeing other clay giants moving against the ragamuffin giant, the young Woodswane wanted to rise up out of hiding and help him. He couldn't just sit back and watch Bear die! So, he started to stand up to warn his friend, but before he was totally upright, a hand pulled him back down into the underbrush.

  “Look!” Turning to where Alynd was pointing, he saw two other giants, dressed like Bear, step forward and meet the reinforcements with their own thundering clubs.

  “He'll be fine,” Alynd assured Jeaf. “You'll see him again. I promise you that.”

  A loud clap brought Jeaf's attention back to Koyer. He could see the evil lord's long fingers clasped together as he gave a command. “COME FORTH! COME FORTH! COME FORTH!”

  The Lord of Regret's voice pummeled the Oakenfel house with an intense sonic wave that shook it to its foundations, making it quake until a loud crunching noise was heard. Light from inside the cottage suddenly exploded out from hundreds of cracks, making the home look like it was one gigantic glowing ember. Memories of how Elamor had battled The Lord of Regret's magic came back to Jeaf's mind. Then the front door burst into fragments of wood that were sucked out into the night and hurled at Koyer's feet. Hundreds of slowly spinning candles, looking like they were moving through liquid instead of air, followed close behind. In time, they dutifully gathered around the door's splintered wood.

  While the cottage was being devoured by hungry flames, the woods were set ablaze with brilliant light cast out of the burning furnace. The radiant illumination reflected off pine trees that bent away in revulsion. Weird creatures were seen dancing about the candles standing at attention near the dark lord's feet, creatures that cackled as they swung swords and axes in mock battle. Squat thickly muscled men, with long flowing blonde hair and dark close-set eyes, all dressed in black and red, stood by laughing at the ribald antics.

  A number of Koyer's warriors bore a bizarre mixture of human and animal traits. More specifically, they possessed the varied characteristics of the winged creatures living in the warl and the similitude of one lone human progenitor, Ab'Don, Ar Warl's lord. Some looked like huge grotesque insects; others had the appearance of flying rodents, the size of men; and, others looked like freakish birds of prey nearly as tall as Jeaf was.

  Standing off to one side, three surly hunchmen waited, impatiently. Eyes, dripping with moisture, hungrily looked to their master's cruel hand that would soon send them on the chase. Snouts quivered, as they snarled in anticipation of the coming hunt. Hair bristled on their heads and necks, as they nervously shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

  Finally, grim-faced men stood in the shadows. Only a few faint smiles crossed their hollow faces. Empty and tormented, Jeaf knew these were no more than slaves.

  In the midst of all of this villainy, Alynd's eyes sparkled with life, and, most likely, it was the scent of this life that caused Koyer to snap his gaze in their direction. Then drawing back, he spat their way, even though Jeaf was certain he couldn't see them.

  Hurtling through the hot damp air, the black gelatinous spit fell at their feet and turned into a black writhing snake, its presence agitating the cloud of waterkynd.

  Drawing back from the coiling serpent, the young Woodswane was unsheathing his sword when the pine trees began shimmering behind a glistening curtain of mist. Blinding white light followed, light that forced Jeaf to close his eyes. And like before, when he reopened them, the waterkynd were regaining their former duller, though no less impressive, appearance.

  As quickly as they had left, they were, once again, back in Mythoria. To their consternation, the black snake had come with them and was, even now, arching backward, getting ready to strike! But before it could complete its deadly move, Jeaf's blade fell, severing the serpent's head off as easily as a cook slices a tomato in two. Yet, no sooner had the viper been decapitated, then its limp body reshaped into the black bile it was formed from and disappeared into a crack in the ground.

  “Now Koyer could guess where we are! For his mind has taken in all the snake has seen.” Alynd inhaled, deeply,
as he spoke. “Though most of what he saw would be strange to him, let's not underestimate his powers.”

  “Won't the Mythorian's magic protect us?” The young Wooodswane spoke as he prodded the crack with the tip of his sword.

  “It will prevent Koyer from pin pointing our exact location. But it won't keep him from making a good guess as to where he can post guards, not once the bile winds its way back home, past stone and root, and tells him where it came from. If this happens, we'll effectively be prisoners here.”

  Turning to Sproush, Alynd exclaimed, “I'm sorry to say, we must leave soon, My Dear Friend.”

  Sproush, now standing on the ground, had regained a human appearance along with the other waterkynd. “I know. If you do not go, in a few days the cliffs overlooking Mythoria will bristle with Koyer's agents. The river will be filled with Schmar's children. If it wasn't for the snake, you could have stayed as long as you wished to and still left safely. But not now… though we could protect you here, once Koyer arrives, you wouldn't be able to leave without a fight. So, go now. Go while you still can.”

  Sadly, before Jeaf could learn more about Mythoria, Alynd was pushing the leaf-boat away from shore.

  Drinking in the wonder of the warl of the waterkynd, Jeaf was delighted to see the Mythorians leaping from pool-to-pool as they descended the cliff on their way to bid him and Alynd farewell. The waterfalls grew in volume when the waterkynd added their essence to the cascading flow. Spray from the flood inundated the air, filling it with silvery rainbows, those the kindly moonlight created. Springing off the lower terraces, the Mythorians came dancing atop a multitude of streams that cut across the fern-covered ground and flowed into the Eyrie River. Eventually, the river's surface disappeared beneath hundreds of frolicking feet made of gleaming mist.

  “Farewell, Hammer Bearer.” A cacophony of voices cried out their encouragement, voices sounding like rain falling on water. “We have touched you with our hands and blessed you with our touch”

  Then, in time, they vanished, once the two men passed a bend in the river.

  Feeling a sense of loss for having left the wondrous warl of the waterkynd, the two travelers sat in silent contemplation, letting the river's current, once again, sweep them along into an uncertain future. Gliding atop the swift water, the two men pressed on through the night and all the next day, until the sun was setting.

  That's when Jeaf asked the question that had been troubling him ever since their departure from Mythoria. “Alynd, why was it necessary for us to risk our lives by going back to my home? I already knew what happened. And look how quickly we had to leave the warl of the waterkynd.”

  “Too quickly,” Alynd sighed. “It's always too quickly.”

  Then shaking himself from his ruminations, he addressed Jeaf's question. “Reading your mind, the Mythorians must have felt there was a lesson that needed to be learned.”

  Eyes, flashing blue light, looked out from under a broad-brimmed hat and searched the young Woodswane's face.

  Pondering Alynd's words, Jeaf watched the moon disappearing behind the forest's uneven silhouette. The extent of Koyer's evil, the tormented looks on the faces of the men who followed at his heels, how the candles obeyed his command, all these things were revelations to him. But the thing that stuck out most in his mind was the memory of the candles. After all, they were candles his mother had made and blessed. This truly was troubling!

  The temptation to reassess his belief in the power the Candle Makers claimed they had and in their teachings, as a whole, had already visited Jeaf's mind during his brief stay in Mythoria. What he was taught and what actually happened didn't seem to fit together. The disparity between the two was conjuring up a maelstrom of confusing and contradictory reflections, tying his insides up in knots as he tried to reconcile his doubts with the beliefs he had always held so dear.

  Venturing a guess, Jeaf finally replied. “I think the lesson I was supposed to learn has something to do with the candles. The picture of them standing before Koyer in obedient attention is disquieting to say the least.”

  “Well spoken,” Alynd congratulated him. “And what do you make of this?”

  “Well, for one thing, I think the candles aren't as powerful as people think they are.” Shaking his head in bewilderment, he blurted out, “Alynd, my mother's faith in her candles almost got her killed!”

  “Jeaf, you've said almost because you know in your heart your parents are alive... And you are right,” the bard replied. “For they are now safe, protected by other Woodswane.” Folding his arms across his chest, Alynd tried to explain his perspective on things. “Jeaf, if while using a bow and arrow you missed the target with one or more shots, would you then, in disgust, throw away the rest of your arrows. No, you wouldn't! Instead, you would practice until you were able to hit the target. The candles are like arrows. Don't throw them away just because you think they missed the mark.”

  “But candles aren't arrows,” the young Woodswane blurted out.

  “Don't be impertinent, young Oakenfel,” Alynd warned. “There are things sharper than arrows. For example, what a man thinks in his heart is more powerful than any weapon of war. And a sword is only as good as a warrior's courage will allow it to be.”

  “But Koyer commanded the candles and they obeyed him! How do you explain that?”

  “Did he really? What if the candles' magic wanted him to think the very thing you now seem to believe?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I'm saying, you and your parents escaped Koyer's trap. Correct? And wasn't that the very thing the candles' magic was supposed to help you do?”

  “Are you trying to say, the candles' magic worked?”

  “Though I can't say for certain, I think yes. Maybe not the way you wanted it to. How else would you and your parents have been able to shake off the small army you saw outside your home? Surely, you must know your father's tunnels, ingenious as they are, could only give you a brief respite from those who pursued you and from the magic Koyer is expending to find you?”

  “You mean the flame the bizarre creatures were dancing around somehow hindered them.”

  “Of course- like firelight mesmerizes an unwitting moth, drawing it to its death- the candles' light mesmerized those who wished to pursue you, giving you more time to escape. All, that is, except the three hunchmen.”

  Paddling the boat onto the riverbank, beaching it for the night, Alynd stepped out of the craft and lifted his face towards the heavens. “Magic isn't easily controlled. Often, it has its own mind. Most certainly, it operates on its own timetable.”

  “Jeaf, you can't say your mother's powers failed just because one battle has been lost. Magic doesn't operate that way. It moves in larger cycles. Its day is much longer than the one we live in.” Pulling the leaf-boat farther up the bank, Alynd added, “We get discouraged if we don't get the things we want within days, weeks, months or a handful of summers. True magic works over decades, generations and centuries. But, don't misunderstand me, it can be potent in the present, and the Candle Makers' candles are extremely potent.”

  Chapter 10: The Dream-Messenger

  Later that night, as Jeaf slept, he entered a dream that took him back to Mythoria, one where he found himself walking along a trail winding its way up through the waterfalls and alongside the pools they fell into. The waterkynd, floating above the terraces he passed, pointed up towards the cliff's heights. Voices, sounding like falling rain, encouraged him on. “Up there, you must go up there!”

  After reaching the top, Jeaf looked back down on Mythoria and imagined he was looking at a priceless necklace made of crystal, one so vast it covered the entire cliffside and the fern-covered ground below. Turning away from the breathtaking sight, he looked into the shadows laying beneath an ancient forest's canopy of leaves.

  Following a stream that dashed past him and back towards the cliff he had just climbed, Jeaf saw a gathering of waterkynd up ahead. They were so small he thought they must b
e children who beckoned him forward, an invitation the young Woodswane eagerly accepted. Once he reached them, the shimmering mists took his hands in their own and led him deeper into the woods. Whispers, sounding like drizzling rain falling on leaves, swam about the young Woodswane's head. Reaching out with his mind, he touched the young waterkynds' thoughts and found they were filled with a sense excitement. But they wouldn't allow him to discover why. Even though they were children, their use of magic was already well developed. But this didn't stop Jeaf from trying until the Mythorians reached the edge of a small glen. Here a beaver's dam and a pond sat in the middle of the clearing. A modest looking cottage sat at the pond's far end. Stopping beneath the towering trees, his guides informed him he must now go on alone.

  One of the children explained. “See that cottage? There's someone there who wants to meet you, someone important.”

  “Who?”

  Shaking his glistening finger, the young waterkynd replied, “Now, now Jeaf, that's not the way we play the game.”

  With the children exhorting him to Go On, the young Woodswane started down a path marked by flagstones that skirted the pond's edge. As he went, musical notes softly, almost imperceptibly, filled the air. It didn't take Jeaf long to realize the flagstones, he was walking on, were the source of this melodic sound. Responding to his footsteps, each stone emitted a subtle and delightful musical note.

  Thoroughly enjoyable, the pleasing sounds lifted the young Woodswane spirits making him wonder who might be waiting for him in the quaint cottage he was now approaching, a cottage reminiscent of his own home. Heavy oak timbers, topped with a sod-covered roof, stood before him. The sense of familiarity this created was wonderful.

  While he mused on this, a herd of tiny deer appeared, leaping through the tall grasses growing beside the trail. Wherever the grasses failed to grow, yellow and purple wild flowers took its place, carpeting the floor of the lovely little glen. A noise in the pond caught Jeaf's attention. Expanding rings of water marked the spot where a fish had jumped. While he watched new ripples, made by another acrobatic fish, intersect with those already there, creating an elaborate pattern of delicate waves, the young Woodswane approached the cottage's heavy wooden door and knocked.