Black Crystal

by R A Oakes

  “Do it now, Aerylln! Now!” Baelfire shouted, fearful that the transformation might not be permanent and that the Light might fade away once more. Somehow, Aerylln knew what Baelfire wanted her to do, so she stretched out her arm and pointed a finger at Pensgraft.

  Instantly, a bolt of energy made of pure, white plasma shot from the tip of her finger across the vast expanse of field in front of Crystal Castle and struck Pensgraft.

  The giant absorbed the energy and began to shine. It wasn’t an overcast day, but Pensgraft looked as if a beam of sunlight had broken through clouds on a stormy day and was streaming down upon him.

  But as everyone at Crystal Castle held their breath and watched in eager anticipation, nothing happened. Nothing at all.

  “Well, that was a waste,” Corson grumbled.

  “Patience, Corson, patience,” Eldwyn smiled.

  “What is patience anyway?” she chided him. “I’ve never had any. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Watch and learn,” the wizard said, quietly pointing back towards Pensgraft and the others.

  Corson did as she was told and found herself learning quite a bit!

  The bright light surrounding Pensgraft had faded from view, but twinkling little sparks of prism light, like tiny purple, blue, green, yellow, orange and red stars, began flowing all around him. The giant nudged the sides of his warhorse with his heels, and, in the next instant, he was standing next to Marcheto. The young warrior was concentrating on Gornic’s four sons as they raced across the field and hadn’t noticed Pensgraft riding up behind him. But neither had anyone else. The giant had just materialized.

  However, Marcheto did notice what happened next.

  Pensgraft unsheathed his sword and pointed it at one of Gornic’s sons who was almost upon them. A stream of multicolored light shot out towards the enemy warrior, and he just …disappeared!

  Next, Pensgraft pointed his sword at another of Gornic’s sons, and another, and another, until they all simply vanished.

  “That man there,” Marcheto said pointing at General Gornic. “Do that to him as well.”

  “No,” Pensgraft said softly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s not attacking us,” Pensgraft explained.

  “When Lord Daegal gives the order, he’ll be coming at

  us!”

  “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “That man’s my father’s sworn enemy, kill him!” Marcheto shouted.

  “Not now, maybe later.”

  “I want him dead!” Marcheto almost screamed in frustration.

  “Listen to me very carefully. Any man can kill, it’s in our blood, and it’s very easy to take that route,” Pensgraft said. “What’s hard, what really takes experience and discipline, is holding oneself in check when the desire to take a life becomes almost overpowering. Conquering others is one thing, Marcheto, but a real man first learns to conquer himself. And that’s the hardest battle of all.”

  “We’ll have to fight him eventually, and kill him. So, what’s the difference between doing it now or later? I don’t understand.”

  “Later means it’s a while longer before we have to take another life,” Pensgraft tried to explain. “It’s a small reprieve, but it’s still a reprieve.”

  “General Gornic doesn’t deserve a reprieve.”

  “Not a reprieve for him, it’s a reprieve for me. My soul grows weary of battle,” Pensgraft sighed.

  “How can you be a leader, if you’re tired of killing?”

  “It’s only after you tire of it that you can truly lead,” the giant said.

  “Why?”

  “Because there has to be something that enables us to fight and fight hard. When we kill, our goal should be to save lives not to take them. With every life we take, we should be looking to save two others. It’s the only way a real warrior can keep on fighting when the going gets tough.”

  “I’m still not sure I understand,” Marcheto said.

  “You’d better learn to understand these things, if you’re going to be in a relationship with my daughter,” Pensgraft said.

  “With your daughter?”

  “Aerylln.”

  “Aerylln’s your daughter?” Marcheto asked, a bit alarmed.

  “Yes, and while I have you here, I want to ask you one question.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Have you ever touched my daughter? And you know what I mean, touched her inappropriately?” Pensgraft growled.

  “No, sir! Aaaask Baelfire!” Marcheto said as he began to sweat.

  “If you ever hurt my daughter, you’ll think facing General Gornic’s sons was a picnic,” Pensgraft said almost in a whisper.

  “I’ll tttttreat her prrrrroperly,” the young man stammered.

  “Good decision!” Pensgraft said hoisting Marcheto up behind him on the saddle and heading back over to the young warrior’s family.

  Chapter 32

  Before Marcheto could be reunited with his father and brothers, the field he and Pensgraft were riding through began to change. It started first around Crystal Castle and spread outward in concentric circles much like a pebble creating circular ripples when dropped in a pool of water.

  The young warrior and the giant watched in amazement as an oil-like, black liquid came pouring out of Crystal Castle flooding the entire valley floor. At the same time, hundreds of Lord Daegal’s warriors and their horses began stepping up and down in the ooze as it rose above their ankles and hooves.

  Pensgraft and Marcheto clung to their horse as it pranced around trying to keep from being trapped in the mire, which was quickly beginning to solidify. In a matter of minutes, the grassy fields around the castle had changed into vast, unbroken sheets of black crystal.

  But they didn’t remain unbroken for long.

  The valley floor quickly began to buckle and heave shattering the smooth, polished surface into seemingly endless piles of black crystal shards.

  Crystal, the dark sword, being the one who’d initiated this chaos, was enjoying herself immensely as she sensed the confusion and fear people were experiencing all over the valley. Her valley. Not Glenitant’s and not Chen’s. Hers!

  The dark sword, with moves worthy of an escape artist, had been thrashing about twisting and wiggling until nearly half her handle was free of the golden ropes that were ensnaring her. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  “The bitch is back!” Crystal had laughed.

  Then she’d gone to work, flooding the valley with black ooze.

  The dark sword wanted to be united with Chen, but when Baelfire put a stop to that, Crystal had turned to Lord Daegal begging him to rescue her. She’d promised the warlord her help, but the dark sword was growing weaker and weaker with each passing day as the ropes drained both her power and her will to resist.

  Yet Crystal’s willpower was strong, stronger than anyone had realized.

  And now, to a small degree, the dark sword had been able to free herself, and she reached out to her savior, a man she hated, and sought to bring him victory.

  “Lord Daegal!” Crystal shouted using the Crystal Medallion to contact him.

  “Where have you been?” the warlord demanded.

  “I’ve been half dead, thanks for your concern.”

  “I have plenty of men who are more than half dead,” Lord Daegal fumed.

  With an effort, Crystal held her tongue but thought, If I have my way, you’ll be joining them soon enough! However, getting her temper under control, she said, “I realize that I haven’t lived up to my end of the bargain. You wanted to wait and gather thousands of warriors, but, at my request, you rushed over here with only 1,000. I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t do me any good, especially with Baelfire becoming more powerful. Your half-sister and Pensgraft killed four of my men. She could prove to be a real problem.”

  “Quit worrying. If Baelfire, Zorya and Aerylln had any real power, they’d have stopped you the moment
you reached Crystal Valley.”

  “Maybe, but the way Baelfire helped Pensgraft was pretty spectacular.”

  “Spectacular? I’ll show you spectacular!” the dark sword shouted cutting loose with a bolt of energy that leapt from her scabbard, shot out of the castle and landed directly on the warlord.

  The change was immediate and dramatic.

  First, Lord Daegal’s warhorse went wild as its hooves and legs began turning to black crystal. Its nostrils flared, and its eyes bulged, and the animal reared up on its hind legs. But nothing, not even blind panic, could reverse the process, and soon the warhorse was more crystalline than flesh and blood. Even its head and neck, the last parts to change, appeared to be made of highly-polished black marble, and the warhorse’s facial features were chiseled and angular.

  After the change was complete, the warhorse really came alive, racing over the black crystal shards as if storming across a field of shattered glass was its natural and preferred habitat, which it was.

  With every stride, the warhorse seemed to be growing bigger, taller, more muscular and far more powerful. The black crystal charger became so large that Lord Daegal looked small by comparison, and the warlord was anything but that. Yet no matter how hard he struggled to master the giant warhorse, it proved too much for him, and Lord Daegal had to cling to the saddle just to keep from being thrown.

  But then, the warlord felt a tingling sensation in his legs, and he realized they were growing longer, much longer. Wrapping them around the animal’s rib cage, Lord Daegal, with a strength that surprised him, squeezed the warhorse’s sides so hard that the black crystal charger turned its head and looked at its rider with newfound respect.

  However, respect quickly turned to fear, and justifiably so. What the animal saw was enough to terrify anyone!

  Lord Daegal was the perfect size to be riding such a warhorse, which meant he was now enormous! And Lord Daegal gave the horse such a murderous look that the animal surrendered to its master once more.

  Like his warhorse, Lord Daegal had become a black crystalline, raging inferno of raw power. Flames leapt from his eyes and mouth, and his body smoldered with an intensity that caused his hands and forearms to glow red as if they were made of hot coals.

  Lord Daegal was now at least 15 feet tall, and his warhorse was twice that size when it reared up on its hind legs. The horse spit fire and smoke, and its hooves gave off a reddish glow and were covered in flames.

  Lord Daegal’s intellect and personality remained unchanged, and he loved it as he rode through his army calling his officers by name. The most astute recognized his voice and knew it was their ruler, but many leaders and their warriors were terrified as what looked like a bonfire illuminating midnight darkness went thundering by on four legs. It was dusk, and light was fading from the sky, adding to the dramatic nature of Lord Daegal’s appearance.

  I could really get used to Crystal’s help, he thought, while leaning back and letting out a monstrous roar that reverberated throughout the valley. It never dawned on Lord Daegal that Crystal might be playing him and had her own agenda.

  Thus, blissfully unaware and brimming with excitement, Lord Daegal rode over to General Gornic’s camp and was pleased to see him smiling.

  “Nice touch,” General Gornic said, impressed by the forbidding spectacle. “And you just dug that costume out of a closet?”

  “Nothing much surprises you, does it, general?” Lord Daegal laughed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I just like being surprised.”

  Years of training and discipline enabled General Gornic to put the tragic loss of his sons into a separate compartment of his mind to be dealt with later. He’d kill Pensgraft, he knew that much. But for now, he had his master and a coming battle to think about.

  “Get 200 elite warriors, the best of the best, mounted and ready,” Lord Daegal commanded.

  “With pleasure, my lord,” General Gornic said as he leapt onto his warhorse and began barking out orders to his staff.

  Within a few minutes, 200 battle-hardened warriors were sitting astride their warhorses feeling rather unnerved by Lord Daegal’s personal appearance. They were about to become even more unnerved.

  “Gather ‘round, boys, gather ‘round!” Lord Daegal shouted glaring at his men and testing their resolve.

  To his surprise, a few warriors appeared relatively calm, as if reporting to a black crystalline giant spouting flames was a normal part of their daily routine.

  Lord Daegal respected such men, that is, ones possessing the strength and courage to act unafraid even in the face of totally unexpected situations. Further testing their nerves, however, he had his warhorse rear up on its hind legs, and he took out his sword as both horse and rider burst into flames. The horse let out the most unnatural, horrifying battle cry anyone had ever heard, and Lord Daegal shouted with such horrendous, barbarous intensity that men and warhorses backed up a step.

  Lord Daegal and his warhorse continued bellowing while bolts of lightning erupted out of the warlord’s chest striking each of the warriors in front of him. Suddenly, the crushing intensity of Lord Daegal’s battle cries seemed more manageable to his men and not so overwhelming. Many of Lord Daegal’s warriors began feeling the need to join in and lifted their voices with guttural growls, frenzied howls and wild snarling.

  “Don’t you think this is a bit bizarre?” one warrior asked the man next to him and was shocked to find that his neighbor looked like a smaller version of Lord Daegal. The man wasn’t 15 feet tall. In fact, his height hadn’t changed. But a six-foot tall, fire-breathing warrior made of gleaming black crystal wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to see.

  Then, looking at his own body, he discovered his legs and lower torso were turning into black crystal. Soon, all the howling and snarling going on around him seemed natural, and he joined in as well.

  Now, hungering to make a kill and eager to release the violence churning inside of him, what he wanted most was something to attack. Feeling exactly the same way, Lord Daegal reared up on his charger once more, pointed his sword at the architectural masterpiece and shouted, “Take Crystal Castle!”

  All 200 black crystal warriors turned as one man and galloped towards their objective, howling, growling and snarling along the way. Once there, they halted and rallied ‘round Lord Daegal.

  “Have no mercy on them! Kill them all! And bring me the swords Baelfire and Crystal!” the warlord shouted.

  “How will we know the swords you want, my lord?” one warrior asked.

  “You’ll know Baelfire. She’ll be the one trying to kill most of you. As for Crystal, she’s tied up in the main tower.”

  But turning back towards Crystal Castle, they found the entrance blocked by a young woman, a sword, a horse and an old wizard.

  “Take me out of my scabbard,” Baelfire told Aerylln.

  The teenage girl did as she was told, and the battle was joined.

  Pointing Baelfire at the black crystal warriors directly in front of her, Aerylln watched in amazement as a powerful beam of multicolored prism light shot out from the sword with tremendous velocity catapulting dozens of fire-breathing monsters through the nighttime sky like meteors.

  In a flanking maneuver, General Gornic brought his army into play marching his warriors towards the western and southern walls of the castle. But looking into the sky, the general was dismayed to see many of Lord Daegal’s elite warriors sailing overhead and falling to earth far behind his advancing troops.

  Baelfire kept throwing Lord Daegal’s warriors off into the distance. But soon the good sword realized her strength was waning. In her first attempt, Baelfire had catapulted nearly 25 warriors away from the castle but now could barely manage four or five.

  With at least 100 black crystal warriors still closing in on the castle entrance, Eldwyn reached into a pocket of his robe searching for a tiny stick about the size of his index finger.

  Finding it, the wizard placed it in the palm of his hand and, for
a few moments, became lost in thought recalling the adventures they’d had together. He and this small, seemingly inconsequential stick had relied on each other many times in the past.

  The wizard also recalled the first time he’d seen Zorya, the Lady of the Well, many, many years ago when he was a young man. Zorya had been in danger and desperately needed to cross a turbulent stream to make her getaway. But before she could even attempt a crossing, the water had burst into flames, and a hideous face materialized within the inferno making its way closer and closer to her.

  Eldwyn had been breathless, and not just from running, but because of Zorya’s incredible beauty. She was the most enticing woman he’d ever seen. And Eldwyn had wanted to come to her rescue but was tall, gangly and unsure of himself. However, he was so captivated and so determined that his self-doubt had evaporated. Even so, the young man had been confused about what to do.

  All the young Eldwyn had in his possession was a small stick, about the size of a twig, which his grandfather had given him upon his death. The tiny stick was supposed to be wise and powerful, or so his grandfather had said, but Eldwyn thought the old man delusional at the time. Yet as the hideous face moved closer to Zorya, the young man had reached for the stick, just as he was doing now.

  “Snap out of it!” Zorya shouted stamping her hooves impatiently and glaring at him. When he saw the look of disapproval on the majestic warhorse’s face, Eldwyn yanked his mind back to the present and found himself looking down the throats of dozens of fire-breathing, black crystal warriors who were now almost upon them.

  Shaking himself out of his reverie, Eldwyn took a deep breath, grasped the tiny stick tightly and squeezed. Instantly, beams of multicolored light shot out of his clenched fist, followed by a blinding flash of white light, and the wizard found himself in possession of a full-length walking stick.

  Taking a long step with his right foot, Eldwyn bent his knee and leaned forward as if preparing to withstand a terrible windstorm. Grasping the staff with both hands and thrusting it outward in a horizontal position, Eldwyn braced himself, looked at Baelfire and said, “I’m ready.”