by Blaine Hart
So? What happened? Did you find the old man? Now that she had rested for a whole night, she flew up and down cheerfully, showing her emotions in a pretty vivid way.
“Vint managed to return safely in his village. The only thing I was able to extract from him was that the hunters had tracked the Ogre’s location to the south side of the Streyln forest, close to. . .”
The wizard’s tower, she interrupted, this is wrong. A wizard would never let an Ogre so close to his tower, not without blasting it to bits. Something is wrong here, Vygarast. Maybe we should go visit the king.
“No. I’m sorry Lady Azy, but. . .”
I told you before, I’m not a Lady. I’m just a messenger.
“Yes, yes. Sorry. But you have to trust me on this. The king will not help us, not without some kind of personal interest involved. Elder Vint asked for aid, and was thrown out with empty hands. Also my father. . .”
Yes, you’re right. It’s just that.. well, fairies and wizards are like opposites. We are Nature’s gentle side, while wizards are rough and dangerous with their powers. You don’t want to have anything to do with a wizard, unless your life is in danger.
“I need to save my father… even if I die in the attempt” Vygarast said seriously. He lowered his hood to reveal his tattooed face to Azy. She gasped, as if seeing it for the first time; maybe she did see it for the first time. The little fairy was so shaken from her adventure last night that she had fallen asleep almost immediately.
What is that on your face? Did they hurt you back there? She flew closer to his face, examining the inked shape. It was still small, just five years in the making, covering the better part of his face and just starting to expand to his shoulder blade.
“Oh, that? Well, this is a half-elf thing. Didn’t half-elves in the past have tattoos on their faces?”
Elves, as I knew them, would never mate with a human. Creatures that aren’t touched by time like us see the fleeting life of the humans as an abomination, a curse from our Mother. So, afraid of losing their immortality, elves would never even think about sleeping with humans.
“Well, things have changed nowadays. Half-elves are as common as humans. We don’t share immortality with our magical half, but we live longer than humans do and we have the same passions. Contrary to our elven brothers, we celebrate life and death, getting magical tattoos on our body. The longer the tattoo on the day of your death, the fuller you life was. It is something every half-elf does when they come of age. I’ve never given it much thought.”
The fairy touched the tattoo and then jumped off his shoulder quickly. Vygarast could sense her quizzical face. His voice stopped her in her tracks. He had more news to share. “Azy, your quest might turn up being more difficult than mine. Back in the village, I saw soldiers of the king ransacking the local shops. I also heard news of the King being on his dying bed. If that is true, the Four Dukes will not stand still until one of them gets his throne.”
I don’t understand. What has that got to do with my quest?
“It might be years before a new King rises between the Four Dukes, years that would tarnish diplomatic relations unless agreed upon by each Duke separately.”
The little fairy gasped in shock, startling Vygarast. Talking to his mind made every interaction between them ten times more intense. When she felt fear, he felt every ripple of her shaken mind, and when she ways happy, euphoria filled him as well. He needed to ask her to tone down her sentiments a bit, but that was not the problem here. Azy had to decide if she would follow Vygarast on his quest to save his father, or start her journey to every side of the kingdom to talk with the Four Dukes.
I know what you’re thinking Vygarast, but I can’t leave you alone. Surprised, Vygarast started to protest only for Azy to stop him. You know nothing of our world Vygarast and I know nothing of yours. I was thinking of asking you sooner or later, but now is as good a time as any. Would you like to partner up with me until we complete our quests?
The young Bard didn’t know what to say, or in the current situation, what to think. Bards were meant to travel around and search for new songs, or even write them if talented enough. Before now, Vygarast had never even thought of leaving his father behind, not when his mother and sisters were in the Mainland leaving with the other elves.
But meeting the Four Dukes, learning more about the old legends, and taking part in one of the grandest adventures of his life, surely was an offer he couldn’t pass up. On the other hand, Vygarast had responsibilities.
When he opened his mouth to ask for a little time to think about it, he was compelled instead to tell the truth: “Yes! Yes, I would gladly go with you!”
Truth cannot be hidden young human. Remember that at all times.
After picking up his things from the ground and making sure he covered the campfire with enough dirt to bury the coals, he started looking for the Ogre’s lair. According to the villagers, after passing the Rose Brook on the south, and getting through the dark part of the forest, there was a clearing near the end of the forest, just steps before meeting the steep wall of a mountain.
It was not a long trip, not for an experienced hunter, or someone familiar with the place, but for two strangers to this land it was a difficult path. Following directions was something that Vygarast had never wrapped his head around. He was constantly getting lost in the mines back home or in the forest near his house. So he took his time and did his best to tread carefully. He didn’t want to stumble into a dangerous situation unaware.
They walked, and walked, until the sound of gurgling water revived their hopes. “This must be the river. We are getting closer.”
For the greater part of their walk, Azy was flying up and down, exploring the surroundings and asking questions about humans. Abruptly, she decided to rest on Vygarast’s shoulder. Be careful Vygarast. From here on out, danger lurks in every corner.
They traveled onwards for another thirty minutes. The deep part of the forest was void of sunlight, making Vygarast lower his hood. The tattoo on his face sparkled as tiny rays of sunlight fell upon it. He wasn’t exactly sure what came first, the realization that something had caught his left foot, or the pain of a bite higher up on his leg, but Vygarast found himself lying on the wet bank of the rumbling river.
A silent growl, one that couldn’t start describing his pain, came from Vygarast’s deepest thoughts. It was a growl of fear, realizing he was about to die. The shrieking voice of a teenage girl in his mind quickly made him come to his senses.
Vygarast! Vygarast, stand on your feet! A Hydra has attacked you!
Between the burning sensation of his wounds, the running water dousing his head, and Azy’s powerful mental urgings, Vygarast found the strength he needed to jerk violently backwards and then quickly stand on his feet. Blood coursed from his leg as he took a look at the monstrosity before him. The creature before him was like a nightmare come to life, a double-headed snake monster with the feet of a giant lizard.
Without time to pull either of his instruments from his bag, which now lay nearby, Vygarast instinctively grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it quickly, going immediately into a defensive stance.
Azy landed on his shoulder and put her small hands on his face. A warm sensation rushed through every vein of his body, leading down to his bleeding leg and aching ankle. In what seemed like seconds, Vygarast’s pain faded into a barely-aware numbness. “What did you do?” he wanted to ask but was interrupted by the echoing hiss of the two-headed snake.
Vygarast thought of diving into the river, as he was a powerful swimmer, but his father had taught him that snakes and water was not a good combination. He rolled away from the river bank and towards a dry space further into the dark part of the forest. Until now, he hadn’t examined the size of the crawling beast. Vygarast realized that like the spider before, the snake was huge as well, easily four hundred pounds and seven feet tall. The beast charged him suddenly and Vygarast was barely able to do a backwards sidestep just out of
reach of the snakes massive fangs. He recovered quickly though, planting his back foot then coming down with a massive two handed over hand chop that sent the nearest head to him rolling away on the ground.
That is not enough. You have to cut both its heads at the same time or else the other will grow back again. Azy didn’t have to explain it to him, but the reminder was helpful. Vygarast had heard stories of hydras before and knew of their regenerative powers. The hydra retreated as a big bulk of pink skin started growing to suddenly reveal a new head.
“Damn it. This is not good.” Vygarast said to Azy.
But this was his chance. While the hydra wasn’t attacking he made a quick sprint to his fallen bag and pulled out his lute from the sack on the ground. His fingers quickly got into place just in time to stop the snake in its tracks. A melody sweet and melancholic filled the air with intense vibrations. Soon, the music behind the song that Vygarast was playing, The Tomb of the Warrior, was lost in the drumming sound that echoed around him.
The ground under the snake started receding, the earth itself getting swept into a fearful melody of war. One of the songs written for combat, Vygarast was not so familiar with it. Even so, he knew that it was enough to kill. The ground beneath the hydra suddenly turned to mud and the creature sank into it until nothing was showing but the two writing heads. With a bitter twang of the lute and a mighty roar to end the song, the ground turned solid once again. Vygarast quickly retrieved his sword and carefully approached the hydra. He was careful to judge just how far the heads could attack, moving in slowly with his hands holding his sword abovc his head, ready for a killing strike. He taunted the beast with his sword, causing the heads to strike. He did this one last time, and as their where extended he moved in quickly with a powerful strike. The first head fell to the ground. When the remaining head came in to strike, he rolled under it and then chopped the last head off at the base with a mighty blow. Green blood spouted everywhere as Vygarast quickly cut every last piece of the hydra off that was above the ground. He stood there for many minutes, the gore running from his clothes and face, but he did not move until he was absolutely sure the monster would not regenerate. He has a battle rage in his veins the likes he had never felt before. He felt alive! He felt stronger.
Vygarast was in the middle of cleaning his sword in the grass when Azy landed on his shoulder again. This time, her touch was urgent… anxious.
We have to run Vygarast, if A Hydra is here, that means that also. . .
Her whispering suddenly stopped, as if a tall wall separated them. The small fairy tried to speak, but she couldn’t.
“That means what Azy? What is going on?”
Vygarast would remember that sensation for the rest of his life; first sensing the corruption of his magic and then seeing the man jump out of the shadows from behind a tree trunk, a man walking on the other side of the river.
His voice was hoarse, deep, and steady. “Your friend probably meant to warn you of me, my young Bard. I greet you, half-elf of the forest mountains.”
Chapter 6 : The Meddler and The Ogre
With a swift move, Vygarast brought up his sword. The man was standing on the other side of the river, but something inside the Bard’s guts warned him that the distance was insignificant between them. He wanted to run, to get away and forget everything about saving his father. Still, his mind was set; he had to carry on.
“Oh, you’re more daring than your fellow kind. I can sense great things coming from you, Bard, but not if you keep carrying on with this… fly on your shoulders.” Even by standing on the other side of the river, his voice was heard clearly above the gurgle of the water.
“Leave Azore alone. Who are you? What do you want from us?” As Vygarast talked, the shadows around the cloaked man twisted around him, covering his face in the middle of the day. The only thing that Vygarast could tell from this distance was a pair of golden eyes, striking him with sneers of apathy before it disappeared into the shadows. The man was instantly almost invisible, lost in the forest somewhere.
“Azore? Oh, you mean the fairy? Maybe you have mistaken my intentions. I was doing you a favor, protecting you from this creature.” The cloaked man walked up and down the river bank, using his hands to put emphasis on his words.
“What are you talking about? Azore is my friend and you’re doing something to her mind, not letting her talk to me.”
For a moment, Vygarast lost the man from his sight. “Fairies are sneaky creatures, Bard.” He had suddenly appeared behind him, pinching the fairy’s wings and lifting her in the air towards him. He continued, with Azy in his hand trying to get away. “Fairies offer you words of advice that in secret serve their own purposes. Do you think that their Queen,” he uttered the word with disgust, as if not believing in the authority of the titled person, “gave a damn about you half-elves? Or us humans? The Immortal Creatures have only one purpose, and that is to keep being immortal. Don’t forget that.”
With his sword in hand, Vygarast tightened his grip on the hilt of his weapon, waiting for the right moment to strike. However, no matter what he did, his mind was refusing to give the order. Who is this guy? How can he manipulate the light to his own will without using instruments?
Vygarast, without thinking too strongly over it, took a step forward and swung his sword aiming at the man’s exposed neck. What happened would haunt him for days; instead of cutting off the man’s head, his sword stopped in mid-air, like it had hit a wall made of air. The man suddenly turned, and for a moment his golden eyes had lost every sense of logic. Vygarast sensed the man’s blood lust. If it wasn’t so plain to see that the man was actually a human, he would have mistaken him for a beast.
A tuft of red hair now licked the man’s forehead. His hair had the color of the setting sun, the twilight red that reigned between night and day. Vygarast thought of backing away, but the air currents didn’t let him move. The man slowly raised his hand to the same height as Vygarast’s neck, and with his fingers tensing like claws; the Bard could feel his throat closing, to the point where he started to choke.
“You back-stabbing, dirty, half-breed, I tried to be reasonable with you and you chose the uncivilized half of your origin. If that is what you want, then so it will be,” and with a disdainful expression on his face, he threw Azy away. Vygarast somehow wrenched free from the invisible grip on his neck and hurtled forward, catching her before she hit to the ground. A crackling sound echoing through the woods was the last thing that Vygarast heard before the man left in a flash.
Now that he was gone, Vygarast felt the air around him grow lighter, and the shadows of the trees receded to let the light pass. The Bard hadn’t noticed that the man had made such a difference to everything around him, but gasping with Azy in his hands, Vygarast felt relieved he didn’t have to fight him. His instruments were of no match for the man, at least not at his current level of training. However, something inside him warned him that not even a fully trained Bard would be enough to take down that man… and by the way he was talking, he was starting to think he wasn’t a man at all.
Vygarast? Are you okay? Do you want me to heal you? Finally, the little fairy’s voice was back to normal, like only just a moment of silent had passed by between them, but it felt like an eternity to Vygarast. He didn’t realize until just that moment just how much he adored little Azy.
“Yes. I’m okay. How about you? Did he hurt you?”
The fairy didn’t answer, but Vygarast caught a glimpse of her head shaking. He put her gently on his shoulder and the little fairy rested her back against his neck. Thank the great Mother. Consider yourself very lucky young Bard, very lucky indeed. There are few people that get away alive when meeting with a Meddler.
The title ringed a bell in Vygarast’s mind, but still he couldn’t quite remember the meaning behind the word. “A Meddler? I have heard about them before, but not much. Who are they?”
Meddlers are the name that people gave to people like him. We call them Darkens,
humans taken by the corruption of the magic. A Darken is someone who can cast without instruments, making him a very dangerous and very bad creature, as doing this twists their souls to evil.
“Creature? Didn’t you just say that Meddlers are humans?”
No, they are not anymore. After shedding away their humanity in order to be able to cast more powerful spells, Meddlers stopped feeding on fruits and meat, and started feeding on destiny itself. Darkens are indeed meddlers, but in a twisted, unimaginable way. They can sense the hidden potential of a person’s destiny and by subtly driving them away from their path, they get stronger on what that person missed from his life. For example, imagine if a Meddler appeared and convinced a young man to not talk to the woman who could be the love of his life? The hidden potential of a destiny like that is tremendous, and Meddlers feed on that. What if that man was destined to be a mighty hero with the help of his new found love? The potential ramifications of events like these are immense! The lives of hundred, thousands or even hundreds of thousands can be influenced by these Meddlers of fate!