by Rex Hazelton
Once the two shards were finally placed in the super-heated coals, a long hush fell over the men and the ruined city that surrounded them.
Kaylan's brothers looked at him wondering about his seemingly foolhardy strategy. How will he have time to hammer the magical mist into the sword? Didn't Travyn's experience teach him that Healing Magic had to be forced to mend the broken blade, a thing its power was never meant to do? That it had to be beaten into submisssion so that the work could be completed with the rising sun's help?
Horbyn looked at Kaylan with admiration. Here is a man who truly understands magic, he reasoned. No wonder the waterkynd have taken a liking to him ...and I like him too, the wizard admitted.
He wasn't surprised at his reaction with all he had learned about the brothers while doing research for their inevitable meeting. Of the four, Kaylan was the prize. I think I'll take him with me, the wizard's thought was not a new one. He had determined this a long time ago. Horbyn would talk Kaylan into going along with him to save his daughter by dangling Crooked Finger in front of him, the thin iron branch Ab'Don had thrust into his mother's heart back in the Temple of the Oak Tree. How could he refuse an opportunity to steal the cursed talisman that Ab'Don planned on using against his mother, Muriel Oakenfel, in the war he plans on waging against Nyeg Warl?
As the stars continued to fade, while the gray tide inexorably rolled toward them, Kaylan took the tongs in hand and reached into the coals, topped with undulating heat waves, and pulled out the first piece of broken sword. After carefully placing its glowing form on top of the anvil, he repeated the process.
Once the other half of the blade was positioned, Kaylan put the tongs down and took the long knife Kaylan offered him. With one quick motion, he slid the blade across his forearm, cutting it deep enough to release a steady flow of blood that he directed into the narrow gap that separated the two pieces of glowing steel. Bending down to retrieve the tear he had placed on the black stone base, using the hand dripping with blood to do this, Kaylan breathed across the golden orb's surface a moment before he reached out and dropped the sphere on top of the blood-filled crack.
Picking up the blacksmith's hammer, with both hands on the sturdy wooden handle, he let it rest on his shoulder as he waited for the sun. Astonishingly enough, his forearm was already mending. In the short time the amber mist had come into contact with Kaylan's arm, after he breathed on the tear, the flow of blood had been arrested and the cut it came from was beginning to heal.
"Kaylan!" Travyn sounded impatient.
"Not yet," Kaylan quietly replied.
Violet light soon appeared above Sky Master's shoulders, pushing the gray before it as it came.
"Kaylan!" Travyn's impatience had turned into worry.
"Not yet!" Kaylan spoke sternly this time.
"Ashes, Kaylan!" Travyn sounded afraid this time.
What if Kaylan misjudged things and Andara's magic wasn't fully prepared to undergo the transformation that daybreak had effected on his sword? For all agreed that the sun's appearance had completed the sword's healing. What if Kaylan hadn't done enough? After all, Travyn had displayed focus, determination, and the kind of tenacity that the mystical realm required of those who wanted to access its power when he pummeled Andara's magic into submission. What if sunrise came and nothing happened? Would his brother be given another chance to work with Vlad'War's Magic? For that's what he was doing. And as in most supernatural manipulations, things had to be done right the first time or not at all.
"Not yet!" Kaylan tightened his grip on the hammer's handle. His jaws clenched. His eyes blinked- once, twice, three times. Then he went motionless as a statue and just as quiet.
"Kaylan?" This time it was Ay'Roan who spoke, clearly confused by his brother's tactics.
But Kaylan didn't reply. In fact, because his focus was so great, he hadn't heard his brother's voice, nor did he hear the horses snorting as they sensed the men's increasing angst.
When the violet light that had appeared on the eastern horizon reached up and touched the ever present snows that topped Sky Master's heights, Kaylan shouted, "NOW!" before pursing his lips tightly together and swinging the blacksmith's tool down on the misty cloud of amber light that enveloped the blood, the red-hot pieces of steel, and the tear itself.
A loud clang, that accompanied iron meeting steel, followed his shout. And in the moment the hammer- that herded the magical amber mist before it like a swift hand sweeps coins off a table and into a purse- struck, the sword was mended, the wizards' magic was indelibly fused into it, and rays of sunlight burst into the violet and gray sky.
Looking to Travyn with a smile on his face, Kaylan said, "I wouldn't have known to work Vlad'War's Magic this way without watching you do all that you did last night." After looking at the restored blade's perfection to make certain nothing else needed to be done, he wryly added, "So, thank you brother for showing me the way."
As Travyn, whose words were filled with an equal dose of playful sarcasm, said, "I was only thinking of you the whole time I was breaking my back swinging that fire-blasted hammer."
****
"It's called Chylgroyd's Keep," Horbyn looked at the four brothers and the swords they made atop Vlad’War’s Anvil as they sat around the campfire that was built in Gore's Gap on the third night after they left Mishal Parm. "As I've told you before, it's located in northeastern Ar Warl past the Lorn Forest, the Thrall Highlands, and Mirror Lake."
"And you say the Little Ral River flows into Mirror Lake and Beaver Creek feeds the Little Ral?" J'Aryl was trying to memorize every detail the wizard had shared with him. This one pertained to Horbyn's childhood home that was named after the stream that flowed though the village.
"That's right," the wizard patiently replied before he returned to describing Chylgroyd's Keep. "The fortress was built on a stone whose top is as wide as half of Mishal Parm's expanse. With the stone's outer reaches filled with fissures that are wider than an able bodied man can jump, some wider than a speeding horse could leap, the keep is covered with bridges of varying lengths that serve a dual purpose: to provide those that live there access to all useable points on the stone's top, and to prevent those who would attack the fortress from quickly overrunning the place. For each bridge creates a bottleneck that can be easily defended.
"Once the stone's center is reached, the cracks disappear. This is where Chylgroyd's Keep stands." Horbyn checked to see if the brother's were following him, something he knew he didn't need to do. "Its walls are as high as those that protect the Hall of Voyd. Its towers look like spears thrust into the sky. And all is the color of burnt wood. Behind the keep, and to the west, the Bjornsulgard Mountains rise above the stone that looks like a horn with its tip cut off rising out of the mountains' tapering snout. There, in a place that Ab'Don had to use treachery to conquer, for his armies were not able to do so, is where you will find your father."
"Exactly where in the keep is he being held?" Ay'Roan's fists clenched as he asked his question.
"In the Great Hall that sits at the keep's center," Horbyn spoke slowly, "for now the entire fortress is devoted to a single purpose- to guard your father."
Picking up the pace, he spoke with military precision. "The hall is filled with Hag who are tirelessly trying to discover the secret of the Hammer of Power and its relationship to the man who has been able to unleash its magic. Suspended in air, surrounded by a field of magic that holds him firmly in place, your father has never eaten a meal, taken a drink of water, or spoken a single word for more than five winters now. Kept alive by Hag magic, the wizards communicate with your father with thoughts alone, Mind Ciphering as it is called."
"We are not ignorant of this type of magic," Kylan impassively spoke while the campfire light shone on his stoic face
"Since I was sent back to the Hall of Voyd, once your father was safely delivered to Chylgroyd's Keep, I can only guess what the Hag are doing to him now." Horbyn sounded apologetic. "But before I left, I saw ho
w they positioned him. Your father is placed at one end of the hall, while the Hammer of Power has been placed as far away from him as is possible within the room.
"The hammer is wrapped in the same field of magic that surrounds your father. A host of burning candles separates the two, looking like a black moat filled with lively stars. A horde of Malamor warriors man the keep. And there's something else there, something that my brethren are afraid of, though they wouldn't tell me what it is for fear that the Sorcerer would punish them if they did. I have seen the shadows and heard the growling, but I don't know what it is. Yet I can tell you this, it walks on two legs and is nearly twice a man's height."
"Why would Ab'Don keep our father so far from the Hall of Voyd?" Kaylan asked his puzzling question.
"Can't you guess?" Horbyn frowned. "The Sorcerer fears your father, though at the present he could easily kill him if he wanted to. He has concerns about having your father and the Hammer of Power being in such close proximity to each other. But it's a risk he's willing to take to unlock the secret of Vlad'War's Magic and the Hammer of Power he made with it. Having your father put to death would only complicate matters.
"Here is the Sorcerer's conundrum: Jeaf Oakenfel is the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding the Hammer of Power's magic, but if the lock and key were ever joined together, Ab'Don might find himself facing the Hammer Bearer fully armed with the Vlad'War's Child in hand.
"That's why the two are being kept at a distance from the Hall of Voyd. If they were unexpectedly reunited, the distance would give Ab'Don a measure of time to gather the strength he’d need to defeat your father before a confrontation took place. And, with your father being alone as he is, the Sorcerer would defeat him. But the price he'd pay to do so would be so steep that Ar Warl might not recover in enough time to turn back an enemy that will go for his throat once the Ar and the Nyeg collide."
"But why take the risk? Wouldn't Ab'Don be assured of a victory if he kills our father now?" Kaylan was having problems wrapping his brain around the idea that the Sorcerer, who was known to be extremely calculating, would be so reckless.
"The Sorcerer wants more." The brothers went stone quiet waiting for Horbyn to explain. "He wants to live forever, and he thinks the Hammer of Power will help him do this, if he can take control of its magic."
"If the Hammer of Power could grant one never ending life, wouldn't Vlad'War still be living?" J'Aryl ran his hand through his black, curly hair as he tried sorting things out.
"By itself, it can't extend life indefinitely." Hobryn laid his hands on his lap as he gazed into the campfire. "But with Cooked Finger's help, who knows what it would be capable of doing. There wasn’t anyone like the Prophetess in Vlad’War’s time who could augment his magic in the way the Sorcerer wants to do."
"The fire-blasted iron branch the Sorcerer pierced our mother's heart with?" Ay'Roan picked up a stick and angrily threw it into the campfire. "How can that help?"
Horbyn's eyes took on a manic expression, his hands parted to grab hold his knees like he was trying to restrain himself, as he explained. "I believe that Crooked Finger has an imprint of your mother's soul on it, and possibly Kaylan and Travyn’s to. And if what I heard is correct, she used her magic to resurrect those who died in the Battle of the Temple of the Oak Tree."
"Yes," Kaylan, who was bothered by the wizard's uncustomary intense demeanor, replied. "Though I don't think she resurrected anyone in the way you're explaining it. I think what really happened was that she healed those who had one foot inside death's door, since there were many who were hurt in the fighting who couldn’t be saved."
"It may be as you say," Horbyn smiled in a patronizing way, though his usual calmness didn’t return, "but I doubt that Ab'Don sees things the same way you do. The Sorcerer, from all I can discern, believes the Prophetess commands magic that none has ever controlled before. I think that's why the Nameless One wanted an audience with me, why it had the Hag Isham ask me about Andara's Tears and the iron branch called Crooked Finger. They both want more than victory. They want eternal life."
Reaching out and pointing his finger at the brothers, Horbyn's voice grew loud. "This must not be allowed! We must free your father and the branch that has pierced your mother's heart."
"You mean your daughter, don't you?" Travyn's suspicious nature was aroused by the wizard's animated gesture.
"Yes of course!" He shouted to cover up his mistake. "Freeing my daughter from bondage and from all she is being forced to do is paramount, but what good would this do if Ab'Don gains eternal life?"
And what good would it do to bring my mother back to life if the warl she's called back to is still ruled by the monster who had her killed in the first place. Horbyn didn't dwell on this thought too long least the brothers Powers of Intuition sensed it. Instead, he focused his attention on his hatred for Ab'Don, something that would reassure the Oakenfels.
"So you want to steal Crooked Finger at the same time we rescue your daughter?" Travyn slowly rubbed his chin as he tried to sort things out. The amber rings of light in his eyes stayed locked on the wizard.
"No." Horbyn was noticeably flumaxed by the question. "Well, yes." The wizard nervously exhaled a breath of air as he added, "Maybe... if the chance presents itself." Then taking another deep breath, he nodded his head like he was responding to his own thoughts and continued. "That which I fear will never happen if your father and the Hammer of Power are rescued. If one doesn't have all the necessary ingredients, how can they bake a cake?
"But if an opportunity to seize Crooked Finger presents itself, we should take advantage of it." Horbyn looked outwardly calm now, though his insides were far different. "I would think you would agree to this"
Travyn's suspicious nature was assuaged for the moment. "If it's possible, we'll certainly do that."
"You said, 'we'," Horbyn's calmness returned in force after he heard Travyn's proclamation. "Does that mean you'll be accompanying me to the Hall of Voyd?"
"Yes," Travyn revealed the thing that he and Kaylan had agreed upon in an earlier deliberation. "Both Kaylan and I will be joining you to rescue your daughter. But once that's done, we're going to set our sights on Crooked Finger. As you've said, both of us were in our mother's womb when that fire-blasted thing was stabbed into her heart. And by the Fire's of Darkness were not going to let the Sorcerer keep Crooked finger when it could do the Singer knows what to us."
"If you two want to go with me, I accept the offer." Things were working out better than Horbyn expected. He had always wanted one of the twins to go with him to the Hall of Voyd, preferably Kaylan who he found appealing, and not his disconcerting brother. Now both we're going to accompany him, the two who had an intimate encounter with Crooked Finger when they were still being formed inside their mother's womb. One was a fighter, the other a true wizard in the making, both could be useful because of this.
Horbyn didn't know how the brothers could help him to get control of Crooked Finger's magic. Not yet, at least. Still, his instincts told him the two were indispensible to his quest. With their assistance, he was convinced he could achieve what he had little hope of doing alone.
"J'Aryl and I will go after father," Ay'Roan's declaration told how all four brothers had been involved in the twin's deliberations. "But we'll not go alone."
"What do you mean?" Horbyn was interested in the plans the brothers had hatched together.
"We'll take the Fane J'Shrym with us, since the Warl of the Brie'Shen is close by."
Hearing that name, Horbyn lowered his head and slowly nodded it, but not in agreement for he knew things about the the Warl of the Brie'Shen he wouldn't divulge, not now when things were going the way he wanted them to, disquieting things the brothers would soon discover for themselves.
All the next day, the five men rode across Gore's Gap's undulating grassland. Now summer, the ribbon-like growth was browning from the warmer temperatures and lack of rainfall that was common during this season. Two large herds of p
lains deer were seen feeding on the browning grass: one early in the morning, and the other after the noon meal was eaten. Built for flat out speed, not the leaping-like running that the varied types of deer living in Ar Warl’s forests utilized when fleeing predators, the plains deer were long-limbed. Grouse and pheasants were occasionally startled into the air by the passing horses. Burrowing field mice as big as rabbits, were abundant.
Then there was the wild dog that persisted on following them. Too big to be a wolf, the hound was seen whenever it crossed over the top of the high grassy swells that covered the plain. Gray as Horbyn's coat, the beast followed them throughout the day.
When late afternoon arrived, J'Aryl exclaimed, "There are two of them now."
Identical as peas in a pod, two hounds were seen trotting up a hill that rose off on the horsemen's right. Once on top the rise, they turned, sat, and watched the men as they passed by. Using the grass' height to judge their size, it was easy to see that the dogs were massive. That's why Ay'Roan said, "We better keep the horses close tonight. And it's a good idea that none of us wonder off alone. There might be a pack of the beasts nearby."
Once Ay'Roan was done saying this, the wild dogs did an about face and disappeared down the hill's far side and the rest of the day passed by without another sighting. The night was just as uneventful.
After another day, the horsemen passed out of the grassland and entered the forest growing in the hilly terrain that lay east of the Black Mountains. From the stories their father had told them, this was the home of the Brie'Shen.
Expecting the same type of rude greeting that Jeaf, Aryl, Alynd, and Bacchanor had received from the Brie'Shen when they were on their way to Cara Lorn, the brothers were surprised at how quiet the forest was. Only scattered wildlife was seen all that day, and the next two to follow. The few roads they came across looked like they hadn't been used for so long that the greenwood was successfully reclaiming them.
Coming upon a clearing with a broken down well sitting at its center, Ay'Roan said, "This was once a village."