by Jordan Cramm
She smiled back at him.
“Relax Wolflen, I am a Ranger. Of course I will camp out here with you. Besides, since I met you things have been much more exciting. I am waiting around to see what happens next.”
Their meal that night had been elk. They ate heartily after skinning the kill and preparing it for the blazes of their campfire. And after laughing and talking some more, they finally decided it was time to sleep. With Sespa to keep watch, there was little need to worry about anything else coming near, so they doused their fire. Then Wolflen and Katrina both shut their eyes as they rested on their backs, using Sespa as a headboard for their grassy bed. They talked for a while, staring up at the stars and discussing their lives and plans. Until at last, both of them slept.
It was the rain that woke them both. The drops started slowly at first and they slowly opened their eyes in response. Then it began to fall upon them faster. They stood at once and shuffled under the nearby tree, laughing at their fortune. The sun was just rising behind their clouded sky, so they hadn't slept long at all before waking to the rain. Katrina started laughing.
“Well,” she said, “it could be worse...it could be hail.”
Wolflen shot a disapproving look back at her.
“All right, well can Sespa carry us back to Haven? I know she is a faster runner than we are.”
Wolflen asked the question of his new friend quickly. Then he had to ask what the procedure was for riding. Sespa told him using her telepathy and she was amused that she had to explain such things to a War Mage. Over all, it was a simple thing. Wolflen would use the heavy locks of Sespa's fur and using his own arm strength, he was to pull himself onto her back. Afterwards, he could then reach down and pull Katrina up to Sespa's back as well. That was the plan in its simplicity. But when Wolflen tried pulling himself upwards, he had more difficulty than what the plan had mentioned.
One, two, and three times he tried heaving his weight upwards, pulling with his arms all the while. But he just didn't seem to have the strength. Katrina began to notice, but kept her laughter to herself. Wolflen was getting furious too, because he knew how it looked, and because he had always been a good horse rider. But this was different; more complicated. Finally, after propelling himself up with a jump, and using his arm strength together, he was able to get his leg over Sespa's back. Sespa told him not to worry, that in time he would be able to do it with ease. He wasn't sure he believed her though—after all, she was a wolf—a wolf that used telepathy to talk. A wolf…a wolf that only HE could hear.
Regardless, the second part of his plan—to pull Katrina up with him was fairly easy. She was not very heavy at all, and she was graceful. So, Wolflen held on tightly to fur locks of Sespa's hair with his hands, and with his legs he straddled her. Katrina on the other hand wrapped her arms around Wolflen and held tight. When she touched him, he felt his heart soar.
The entire way back they were rained on. But it didn't seem to matter. Katrina seemed content to be out in the rain, a trait Wolflen knew, was common in Rangers. And he was quite content himself, with her arms around him as they rode. He wondered if she saw him in any other light than as just some new friend or acquaintance. He wondered if they might ever be more than that. Then he recalled their near kiss in the wild. Why do I feel this way so soon? He thought about her so much, that he barely realized they were coming up on the Mammoth Lodge ahead, and that Sespa was communicating with him as well.
She told him that she would stay in the stables if he could afford it. He let her know that he could in fact, and so he rode her there where he and Katrina dismounted quickly. The rain had finally stopped and finally, some sunlight was breaking through into the city. Katrina stood in its rays and as Wolflen looked at her, he knew he cared for her.
“Well Wolflen,” she began, “I had a great deal of fun with you. And if you don't mind I'd like to do it again soon. I am going to get some sleep, but why don't you come by my room later on this evening for dinner?”
Wolflen grinned and agreed. He admitted to himself that he was also tired, but he was glad to get another chance in her company later. So after watching her walk away and turning back one last time to wave again, he returned to arranging Sespa's stay at the stables. It was easy to do, especially at the Mammoth Lodge, which was used to such traffic, travelers, and animals alike. And then as he walked to his own room at the inn, he recalled the events of the night prior, letting them flood his mind temporarily.
~
His eyes stirred. But his eyelids were shut. Yet his eyes kept dancing behind them. He was dreaming again. This time though, his dream ended abruptly and he sat up in bed in a full sweat. He began to think about the dream at once when suddenly there was a knock at the door that distracted him. Katrina coming to my room? But—it's not even four chimes yet. Wolflen stood with only his pants on. He knew that showing his new acquaintance his chest might be a good move anyway. And so he went to the door and opened it. And there stood someone he cared for very much.
“Ayvock—you made it!”
“Who were you expecting?” Ayvock asked.
“Long story.” Wolflen remarked as he turned and found a shirt next to the bed.
“Wow,” Ayvock remarked seeing the simplicity of the room, “you spared no expense huh?”
Wolflen pulled his shirt over his head and arms before responding.
“I wanted to keep it cheap. In case—you know in case I was on the move again soon. But so much has happened lately. You won't believe it.”
“No,” Ayvock remarked sarcastically, “you are right—I probably won't. But I am here, so I guess I am open minded.”
Wolflen told his best friend the tale of Katrina, of how Wolflen saved her in tavern row, and how easily he had torched an entire area in the open. He told Ayvock about Sespa, and about the status of things before Wolflen himself asked how Ayvock's departure from Akartha had gone. Ayvock explained that when he did return to Akartha, he would no doubt be punished and have some serious explaining to do to his father. Wolflen started shaking his head no as if to tell Ayvock to go back home in that case, but Ayvock wouldn't hear it.
“Look,” he said, “you need some company on this journey of yours, and who else is going to watch over you?”
Wolflen kept quiet about Katrina and Sespa. He was glad to have his friend along for the journey now.
When Wolflen asked how Ayvock had traveled, Ayvock told him it was through the rental of a horse. Wolflen promised his friend he would be reimbursed, and then Wolflen told Ayvock not to worry because Wolflen still had his own horse down in the stables. Ayvock finally made a fuss though.
“Wolflen, a few things....first, if we are going to be doing some traveling, then we need a wagon for supplies. Secondly, I don't want to be riding just some old nag of a horse. If you are a War Mage, then I expect you to provide me with a decent horse; a horse fit for a Knight. After all, I may be delaying my trade school to be with you—for however long this is going to take, but the fact is, I need a worthy steed. Also, as you can see now, I am adorned in little more than leather armor. If our journey finds fortune, I expect to be included in the spoils, because well this armor is poor, and if I am going to watch your back, I can't be worried about a blade slicing mine when it's turned. Those are my demands, take them or leave them.”
Wolflen thought Ayvock seemed a bit pushy at the moment, but had to admit they were fair terms after all. Besides that, Ayvock was right. They had no clue what challenges lay ahead for them. Not only that, but for Ayvock to be so blunt about his demands, told Wolflen how serious he was. Wolflen was accustomed to being taken advantage of, especially regarding his finances. But prior to now, Ayvock had always done it in more subtle ways, like pointing out his needs as though they were his wish list until someone could grant them or Ayvock found a way to meet the needs himself. And in many cases, Wolflen gave in and helped out his friend. But here and now, Ayvock was bolder than he had been before. Wolflen wondered where the new confidence cam
e from.
“Is that all?” Wolflen asked.
“Not quite,” Ayvock responded, “I want a steed as I said but we still need a wagon for our supplies. So that means two more horses for the journey as well.”
Wolflen was taking an accounting of what this venture might start to cost soon.
“I see,” Wolflen remarked, “and if I am riding Sespa, and you are riding your steed, then who will be steering the wagon?”
Ayvock snorted and then answered.
“I will take the wagon. Or if this Katrina you spoke of is really coming, maybe she will drive it. If needs be I will tie a line from my horse to the wagon horses so it follows, but bottom line I want a good steed for a time when battle may occur. Deal?”
The preparations took another two days. Ayvock and Katrina were properly introduced in that time, and then came the chore of finding a good suitable wagon. That wasn't especially hard. Merchants in town were willing to sell Wolflen a decent wagon with compartment shelves inside, and it still had enough room for two people to nearly stand inside, and to move side-by-side. And though it was fairly wide, and covered with thin wood rather than cloth, it had enough room to keep Ayvock's saddle for his new war horse, which was named Colt. Wolflen and Katrina had laughed at the name, but Ayvock took to it at once as he stroked the mane of the horse and picked it out of the bunch that the merchant had for sale. Then Wolflen also purchased the two wagon horses, which were slightly bigger in size than Colt, and slower, but well-tempered at least and well suited to handle different terrains.
In choosing the right animals, Katrina proved to be most useful. She was a Ranger, and apparently knew quite a bit about animals, even about Izenian horses, which were larger than normal horses to begin with. But her knowledge was amazing. She helped both boys avoid deception and being cheated by merchants, and at last, the team of animals, and the wagon was purchased. They purchased the tack harnesses as well for the wagon; a set for the horses, and at Katrina's urging, a harness that would allow Sespa to pull the wagon if such a need presented itself. Wolflen hoped it wouldn't though but agreed regardless. When it was over he shelled out a nice chunk of money, but he was not yet hurting financially at all. He still would be a fortunate mark for any would-be robber. With what he carried he could nearly buy a home himself.
Still, Wolflen didn't want to spend his entire savings either. He knew if his father ever accepted the War Mage possibility, then his father wouldn't hesitate to send more money if it was needed. However, Wolflen was still stingy in his spending—as much as he could be. He knew besides Ayvock's new horse and saddle, the wagon and other horses, he would still have to stock the wagon with supplies. So he discussed the list of needed items with Ayvock and Katrina both.
They all agreed that they would need fire braziers, both for warmth and for cooking. That also meant they would need at least some oil, because Katrina refused to actually cut any living tree for wood, and in some places dead wood she said, was hard to find. Plus, she told them, the braziers would have less impact on the land than a fire would that burned on the ground. They also purchased large barrel of clean water and canteens for each of them. Katrina insisted that they purchase also a crate of biscuits and a box of spices as well. Wolflen agreed and those things were also packed away. When Ayvock and Wolflen asked what they would do for meat and things like fruit along the way, Katrina held up her bow and reminded them that Rangers knew how to hunt.
Katrina told them next that they needed salt. Much salt. No amount could be too much she told them. It served to help store meat, and was useful in so many other ways as well she told them. As inexperienced as they were in the wild, they agreed and got everything she told them they would need. That included such things as nicely cut wood for fires, an axe and hatchet, a spare hunting bow, three good knives, a set of dishes, several blankets, a few lanterns, a tarp shelter tent and a few other miscellany items. Wolflen felt the financial toll of it all as each item was purchased. He saw the option of trade school—Ranger school anyway, going by the wayside. And then came the personal requests from his traveling companions...
Chapter 6: Dark Tendrils
Mortican—the very name drove fear into the hearts of many already. Most thought he was dead, and only because it served his purpose, he let the masses believe so. In fact though, he was quite alive still, and growing more powerful by the day. He was a Vampire, and a Free Mage that specialized in necromancy, and an excellent Shadow Knight. Surely if there were a more trained assassin and killer in all of Fengysha, it would have to be a God. But his Gods—those whom he served for thousands of years were banished after the first war in a time of War Mages. He watched several of his companions fall. They were weak.
His hair was fiery red and tied back at his shoulders. His face was pale and his eyes gleamed; an olive green with orange irises. His sight in the dark was perfect. His senses were beyond those of any normal Human, Elf, or even Izenian. For a pet he kept a Dragon called Madrigal as his slave. For fun he tortured members of any race at all, with no discrimination for any of them when it came to dishing out pain. Each suffered alike. He had a thirst for blood and a fancy for what he considered to be amusing games.
His dwelling was Castle Helkar on one of the Eloxin Isles. It was an evil place, and a tough place to try and survive. Only the bravest of warriors ever ventured to the Eloxin Isles, and less than half ever returned to speak about it. For Mortican's watch extended far into the Eloxin lands, and his mercy was dark torture. At torture, Mortican was an artist…his canvas—the bodies and souls of various victims. His paintbrush—various methods and techniques of torture, whether mental, physical or even spiritual.
This particular night though he was not at home at all. Instead, he took a nightly stroll down the beach, but it was not for fancy or for the view. As an immortal and ruler of the Tendra Isle, he had seen the landscape many times. This particular night however was special for him. For he was bound on an errand toward the sacred stones of worship to one of his Gods. It was a platform of pain really. When he got there, he saw the stone-like platform. And like different forms of worship for other Gods, the one he hoped to reach now was no different.
The platform—50 feet across and 50 wide; a perfect square at the base. It ascended on all sides at a 45 degree angle. Every inch was covered in magic though, and the moment anyone set foot upon it, the platform reacted violently. Razor blades shot upward, magic razors in fact—razors that penetrated armor with ease. The platform top, which was only 25 by 25 feet, and still a flat surface, was where the person could pray and make an offering. Of course, to do so there meant their own blood was sacrificed, at least in most rituals. But it didn't really matter anyway, because there were few that could make it to the platform top alive anyway.
He felt the slicing pain but did not flinch. He healed himself quickly and stepped again. Pain once more. Echoes of memory in the blood. But fear would not stop him. Nor would pain. Not tonight. Another step. His mithril boots were torn asunder already. His calves bled. He stepped again and a deadly spike appeared just in front of him, only nearly missing his groin. He stepped around it. Each step was more pain. Each, enough to make most mortal men wish for death. The platform reacted violently. Another step. The top at last.
Mortican's blood dripped heavily as he moved to the center of the platform. By the time he sat down in a cross-legged position, he had healed his wounds. He had lost quite a bit of blood though, and his Vampiric nature now insisted that he feed soon. The blood he had dripped on the platform sat upon the stone in pools. And he began to chant. “Euriklem, God of hate I summon thee to this place. Hear my call across the void and drink your fill of me as my sacrifice.”
From a pool of blood, dark tendrils of smoke and shadow began to form and twist and turn, taking shape until at last a shadowy figure stood before Mortican. It was a representation of Euriklem, even from across the great distance. “Finally you call child. Were I not bound to the nothingness of the Nexulous moon
I would destroy you for your delays. Do you not know that the hour is already upon you of the next War Mage? You are a forgotten son of a greater God and should have been banished in their place. Yet you remain in shadow, cowering like a beaten dog. I hate you. Ask your questions and I shall decide how to answer.”
Mortican was not a man of fear. He was accustomed to it being instilled into others even by only his mere presence. But this was different. This was a God. Something he aspired to be. “I know nothing of the War Mage you speak of. I have felt the urgings however to rise from shadow and bring war once more to the peoples of this land and beyond. I have worked to weaken the wards that protect the balance and I have found a way to bridge the gap between the Nexulous moon and Fengysha. It is a magic portal, and will be ready for use within just about a year. Great God of hate, empower me with your energy and your will so that I may complete the tasks before me, that you and the armies of old may walk this world once more, and Fengysha may tremble.”
“Foolish child,” Euriklem's shadow figure mocked, “if you knew what you asked, you would not ask it. For that is a wasted wish. We cannot reach across the barrier until it is breached. So your power is your own. We can but glance across the rift until such a day. And your incompetence will surely fail anyway. Your portal can be stopped by one of the War Magic. Do not underestimate him or you will die because of it.”
Mortican blinked. “Who is this one you speak of? Show me!” Suddenly the dark tendrils of shadow changed to figures of smoke and colors, forming a perfect image of Wolflen. Mortican saw it was a young Izenian and laughed. “This—this unknown creature of Izenian blood? Allowing for the possibility of Izenian spawn to even BE a War Mage, it makes no difference. I suppose you know where to find this creature then?” Suddenly, the tendrils of smoke changed once more, and the color faded from it until it formed the black figure that it had been before. The figure laughed an eerie laugh and answered in a low growl of a voice. “I could tell you where to truly start. But I don't care if you succeed or fail. Start in Haven though. Watching you scramble shall be amusing indeed.”