by James Somers
As the group took to the air, hate-filled reptilian eyes watched from a distant peak. Strom growled deep within himself. The griffin’s poison made his right wing ache terribly. “This battle is far from over, Wielder.”
THE WIELDER SCROLL
Duggan had brought them as far as the northern border of the Deadwood. Mt. Doom still dominated the horizon though it was many miles behind them now. “I’m afraid this is as far as I can take you, Princess,” Duggan said. “I must get back to the Griffin’s Keep in order to inform our leader of your father’s request.”
“I thought you were the leader of the griffins,” Daniel said.
“Oh no, dear boy, I am the griffin’s ambassador to King Nicholas. I was on my way to the Keep when I spotted Marissa and the others coming out of the Deadwood near Mt. Doom. I knew they had been questing for the Wielder and were supposed to be returning to King Nicholas, so I wanted to see if I could be of assistance.”
“We certainly do appreciate all of your help,” Marissa said. “I shall be sure to tell Grimwing of your kindness and bravery this day. You really should be promoted among the ranks of griffins.”
“Kind words, my lady, and gracious to be sure. I only wish I could further assist you by delivering the Wielder Scroll to your father for you. But he sends word to Grimwing of the need to organize an army in order to face Mortis.”
“What news is there of the war, Duggan?” Marissa asked.
“I’m afraid it does not fair well for the inhabitants of the Living Land, Princess,” he said grimly. “Mortis has managed to deceive many into following him by alliance or coercion. Strom and his dragons are rumored to have joined forces with Mortis and as you know, my lady, Strom’s forces number nearly fifty.”
“Fifty dragons?” Nathaniel said.
“I’m sorry to say, Captain Blackborne, that those numbers may only be the beginning,” Duggan said. “Strom’s group is simply the last known to join Mortis against us in the war. Mortis has also managed to win the allegiance of the metamen under Hannibal and several rogue factions of wils.”
Percival snickered when he heard that Mortis was using wils to fight. They had always been considered insignificant.
Meineke noticed the laugh at his expense. “Hey, tubby, have you ever been attacked by wils? Oh, yeah, you just were last night. Didn’t like the experience either did you?”
Percival arched his eyebrow but remained quiet.
“Has anyone else joined Mortis that we know of, Duggan?” Marissa asked.
“Well there are the Spider Elves, but we haven’t been able to confirm it as fact yet. It just seems like anyone out for power or conquest joins him. It’s becoming a very dangerous time in the Land. Many humans have succumbed to his spell binding deception as well. They desire to rule their own lives, in rebellion to Iam, and Mortis’s promises of reward appeal to them.”
Daniel considered what was being said about the humans as well as the other creatures of the Land. They all sounded a lot like the people of his world—selfish and looking out for number one. Daniel remembered a day less than a week ago when he had ditched William and the chapel service to go read his favorite book. He’d been a smart-aleck to William that day, not to mention being rude to the minister. William had still bailed him out after all of that. The more Daniel thought about it, the guiltier he felt.
“Your father believes the time has come to organize the forces of the Bard against Mortis and launch an attack on his fortress.”
“But, Duggan, we don’t have any information on the fortress—nothing about its armaments,” Louie said. “You can’t just charge in without knowing what it is you’re going to be facing.”
“I realize what you’re saying is true, but the King of the Bard Elves is very wise. And he feels we can not afford to wait any longer,” Duggan said.
“Duggan, have the Dhampirs joined Mortis yet.”
“I have not received word of any such alliance, but it would not be surprising if it did happen.”
“Dark-eaters, that’s what they are,” Meineke said.
“What do you mean Dark-eaters?” Daniel asked.
“They walk in darkness and feed upon the life force of their prey,” Louie explained. “They are rarely seen walking about during the daylight hours.”
“Yeah, them and the Pure Bloods,” Meineke said with a disgusted tone.
“Who are the Pure Bloods?” Daniel asked.
“The Pure Bloods also feed upon the life force of their prey,” said Marissa, “but the Dhampirs are half breeds. Long ago, the Pure Bloods intermarried with elf-kind like me. The resulting children were born Dhampirs possessing traits of both. They feed like the Pure Bloods, but they restrict themselves to animal prey. They do not wish to feed upon the life force of elves because they are partly as we are. In a similar way, they rarely will take the life force of a human.”
“That’s good to know,” Daniel said, not a little relieved.
“However, the life force is stronger in elves and humans and so the Pure Bloods tend to be the stronger of the two. There was a rift not many years ago between them. The Pure Bloods sought to cleanse their ranks and a civil war ensued between them. The king of the Pure Bloods even banished his own son and the boy’s elf mother.”
“That’s very sad,” Daniel said.
“Yeah, but we have to travel right between their territories,” Louie said woefully. “Very dangerous.”
“Aye, but we’ve got ole Daniel the Terrible with us,” Meineke said.
“Well, Princess, if I may be so bold, you’ve never quite shared with me what it is we are delivering to your father,” Nathaniel said in his best brazen pirate attitude.
She shot him a coy look and then brought an object out from under her crimson robe—a cylinder made of pure gold. Marissa opened the latch and removed a scroll.
“This is what we must deliver to my father, King Nicholas, or die trying. This is the legendary Wielder Scroll. It will tell us the identity of the Wielder by name and his location.”
“And you say, your father is the only one who can decipher what it says?” Nathaniel asked.
“He is the only one I know of who can still translate from the old language,” Marissa said. “Meineke and I were sent to retrieve the scroll from an ancient vault in the wastes beyond Parengore.”
“You’ve traveled from the Bard all the way to the wastelands?”
“The king would not send his eldest daughter on a quest of such importance on foot,” Duggan said. “My brother accompanied her and bore the princess all the way to the wastelands.”
“So what happened?” Percival asked.
“The Sand Dwellers killed Samal before we could leave the wastes,” Meineke explained. “Marissa and I barely escaped with the scroll in hand. It’s a terrible place.”
“Who are the Sand Dwellers?” Daniel asked.
“They are elves,” Marissa said. “The Sand Dwellers were one with my people many years ago. A civil war separated them when my father was still very young. The Sand Dwellers are practitioners of the dark arts. And it was by their hands that a once rich and plenteous land was left barren and desolate. Our people relocated to the Bard during the war of those days and have been there ever since.”
Duggan interrupted. “My lady, I must fly. With so much enemy activity, we must be ready with the king’s plan.”
“Of course, old friend.”
Everyone watched as the mighty griffin took flight toward the dawning sun. Duggan beat his powerful wings down and Daniel thought the resulting wind would knock him over. In that one thrust upward, he became airborne.