by Rex Hazelton
But even with all of this done, the Hammer of Power couldn’t be contained. Coming to life, the magical weapon wanted what all living things intrinsically desire- freedom. This was no ordinary talisman, no cold piece of enchanted steel or mindless magical gem that could be manipulated by anyone who knew how to activate its powers, this was Vlad'War's Child, and as such, it had inherited much of what had made the wizard the person he was.
Like all good fathers, Vlad'War gave birth to children who could think for themselves. Since the wizard was someone who was easy to respect because of the moral code he lived by, a code that placed value on others and was devoted to fair play, his offsrping naturally gravitated to their father's way of thinking. As a result, they willingly chose to emulate their maker.
This explained what happened next, for the the ball of fire tightening around the Hammer of Power began to shake as Vlad'War's Child exerted pressure on it. The shaking became so violent that the fire surrounding the orb looked like a torch's flame buffeted by a strong wind before pieces of flame flew off the sphere like feathers were being plucked from a festal goose. But instead of falling to the ground, the flame quickly transformed into black candles that returned to their Hag masters.
In time, a mishapen Sphere of Power was all that was left to contain the Hammer of Power. And even that wouldn’t last when Vlad'War's Child began flying about inside the imprisoning barrier, striking it over and over again like an enraged hatchling wanting to break through the shell that was encasing it. Since the beak that relentlessly struck the Sphere of Power's shell was made of silver infused with Vald'War's Magic, the shell soon cracked under the weight of the furious assault. Not long afterwards, the misshapen sphere exploded into a billion shards of useless power that fell on the onlookers like soot scrubbed out of a filthy chimney.
"Kill the Hammer Bearer!" The Sorcerer shouted out his orders realizing it was hopeless to think he could ever control Vlad’War’s Child that floated in the air above him. It was all clear to him now, the Hammer of Power had not returned to Ar Warl because it was homesick, nor was it searching for its rightful owner, it had come back for other reasons that did not include the Sorcerer meddling with its power.
It came back, Ab'Don's astute mind surmised, to force the Hammer Bearer to come looking for it.
Clever wizard, Ab'Don begrudgingly credited Vlad'War for the foresight he had to set a trap that he knew the Sorcerer's lust for power would cause him to walk into. But traps could be circumvented. If one was smart enough, they could be turned against those who set them in the first place.
Though A'Don wasn’t able to set up the game board the way he wanted to for his contest with the Hammer Bearer and the powerful weapon he wielded, he was confident he could control the dangerous situation. And the first step in doing that was to have Jeaf Oakenfel's life taken as quickly as possible. Without him, Vlad'War's Child would be limited in what it could do. Though its creator's voice still echoed inside of it, the Hammer of Power was not a living being in the fullest sense of the term. As such, it could not fully map out a course of action that would threaten the Sorcerer in any real way. It had a handle for a reason. It needed the Hammer Bearer to take hold of it and direct its power.
"KILL JEAF OAKENFEL!" He shouted out for a second time.
The six Hag that pierced the Sphere of Power, using flaming spears they made with their candles' magic, took control of the arms that were posed to ram the sharp weapons into the Hammer Bearer's body and drew them back to gather strength to drive the spears deep into Jeaf’s flesh.
Chapter 31: A Dream that Mattered
I must be stone, Jeaf struggled to sort things out, though he didn't remember that his name was Jeaf, because I can't move. This gave rise to another thought: Maybe I'm a tree. The image of a great leafy thing fought to resolve itself in his mind's eye as he tried to give meaning to his existence. Surely he was a tree and not a rock since he could see sunlight shining through his closed eyelids.
No. I'm something else, he thought.
I'm a man, he added more as a question than a statement. I remember that I once could move. Walking, running, jumping, laying down, and rising up were all things I was able do. Speaking too. And laughing. I can't remember the last time I laughed. But I recall that it was because of something I heard someone else say- another man, or was it a woman.
Five cold winters had passed since Jeaf's mind was free to roam where it wanted to. For five long winters, the Sorcerer and the Hag took turns manipulating his thoughts, confounding his powers of reasoning, and stripping him of any sense of identity. The only times they allowed him the luxury of using logic was when they were trying to trick him into divulging the Hammer of Power's secrets. And once the attempt was over, the Hag would break his chain of reasoning into disconnected links that he quickly assumed were meant to be separated from the others.
I'm not alone. Jeaf was slowly joining the links back together as his chain of thought continued to grow. "I once had friends who made me laugh," Jeaf startled himself with his own voice, since he had not spoken out loud for some time now.
"I'm one of your friends." A woman's voice was heard. "If you'll open your eyes, you'll see me."
Jeaf hadn't considered opening his eyes. Why would he when all he saw was death when he dared to do so? A string of humans being brutally sacrificed flashed through his brain in a blur of painful recollection. Did the woman want him to see another monstrous act?
But the word friend kept Jeaf from rejecting the invitation outright. So, he opened his eyes and beheld a woman standing in a vast field filled with knee high grass. Radiant clouds, topping a massive mountain that dominated the distant horizon, did the job that the sun usually did. But unlike the sun, the clouds had a multitude of colorful lights eminating from them in undulating flashes that filled the azure sky with something akin to daylight.
"Don't you remember me," the strangely familiar woman said. "I'm Ana, your sister Pearl's mother and your father's dearest friend."
"Ana. Is that you?" There were no weak links in the chain of thought Jeaf was now forming. And the next logical link made him ask, "Have I died?" For he had met Ana in the Warl of the Dead, back when he came to set Muriel free from the Evil One's control.
"Yes, it's me," the woman who looked so much like Mar’Gul replied. "And no, you're not dead yet. But, I've come to warn you that you soon will be if you don't wake up."
"Wake up, you say. Does that mean I'm asleep?"
"I wouldn't call it sleep." The breeze that rose up to stir Ana's long auburn-colored hair bent the tall grass with its passing. "It's more like you've been drugged by the Sorcerer's dark magic, though such a description fall's far short of explaining the control he has over you."
"Ab'Don is controlling me?"
"Yes Dear Boy," a male voice was heard as another person approached. Wearing a breastplate made of star's blood and a red cape over his shoulders, the persitent breeze playfully tossed the man's dark, wavy hair about as he drew near.
"Vlad'War," this wasn't the first time Jeaf had seen the dead wizard,"is that you?''
"It's me." The warrior-wizard looked Jeaf over like he was a commander inspecting his troops. "Ana's right. The Sorcerer has cast a spell over you that will surely take your life if it isn't broken soon."
"Tell me," Jeaf looked to where he knew a black mountain stood, far to his left, "how can I break the spell?"
"To do that," Vlad'War looked pleased that Jeaf seemed to be catching on so quickly, "You must remember who you are."
Looking down at the grass that waved about his knees, Jeaf tried to recall all that should be so obvious to him. With Vlad'War close at hand, he said, "I remember that I'm the Hammer Bearer."
"I'm glad you remember the role that you have accepted in the troubling times that have fallen upon the Warl of the Living, but that's not all you are, and it's not the most important part of the whole."
"I am Fane J'Shrym."
Looking a bit miffed over Je
af's response, Vlad War replied, "Jeaf, don't let my presence control your thinking. Though my magic is the weapon you must use if you want to have a chance of defeating the Sorcerer, it's not who you are. Think Dear Boy."
"But I am a Fane J'Shrym." Why wasn't Vlad'War pleased with this response? Declaring he was one of the despised people, especially since they were the wizard's descendants, must be the answer he was looking for.
"You're not listening to me." Vlad'War spoke with more than a little sterness. "Quit thinking about me. The answer you need is far greater than those you've offered up so far. But while I've said that, knowing you are one of the Fane J'Shrym can serve you well if you live long enough to take advantage of that fact. So, tell me who you are."
"Let me help you Son." A voice that was as familiar to him as the air he breathed was heard coming from another man who was approaching him across the grassy expanse. In the light that the Mountain of Song cast over him, the man's countenance reminded Jeaf of the face he saw whenever he gazed into an undesturbed pool of water.
I look like him, Jeaf correctly surmised before a child-like enthusiasm laid hold of him and he said, "Father!"
"Now we're getting somewhere," Vlad'War intoned with equal enthusiasm.
"I'm a son," Jeaf said. "That's it. I'm a son." How could it be anything else? Being Aryl and Elamor's son was the greatest joy of his life. Or was it?
After smiling at the man who looked so much like him, Jeaf turned to Vlad'War and repeated, "I'm a son. That's what you want me to remember."
"You're on the right track, Dear Boy." Vlad 'War slapped Aryl on the shoulder as they went to stand beside Ana. Oakenfel, Wyldstone, Fane J'Shrym, it's all about family. As great as the role of son is, you've played greater roles. Remember who you are Jeaf."
Then another voice was heard rolling down the Mountain of Song's impossibly large slopes and across the grassy plain that lay before it, a voice that sang with the clarity of a newly risen sun, a voice that sounded like a musical instrument in its precision, a woman's voice that sang the Song of Breaking.
Do not rejoice over me my enemy.
You who look at innocence with your eye.
Do not rejoice or take pleasure when I fall,
For I will arise.
"Muriel!" Jeaf gasped for air like a swimmer who had been underwater too long, and as he breathed in, his mind added more links to the chain of thought he was building. "Where is she? Is she dead?"
"She’s not here, Jeaf," Aryl spoke the same way he had thousands of times before when he explained things to his son. "She's still alive as you must remain."
"But I hear her voice." Jeaf turned to look at the Mountain of Song. "She's up there," he added as his amber-colored eyes filled with tears.
"No she's not, Son. She's in Nyeg Warl where you left her. Only her voice is here. You see, the Song of Breaking transcends the barriers that separate the Warl of the Living from the Warl of the Dead since its power comes from the Magic of Resurrection that gives hope to all who have lost their way, to those who have failed or who have had others cause their steps to falter."
"I'm Muriel's husband," Jeaf spoke like he was trying the word out for size as the memory of his beautiful wife washed through his mind. Others followed to numerous to recount until one last recollection came to mind, one where he and Muriel were sitting before a fireplace with four boys huddled around their feet as they told them stories about the Isle of Stromane where the griffin live. Four sets of eyes, all filled with wonder, looked on as the couple took turns talking. Though so very young, none of the boys were distracted by the unruly inclinations that can disrupt such teaching moments.
"I'm a husband," Jeaf cried out in triumph. "That's it, isn't it? That's what I'm supposed to remember."
"Not quit, Son, though marriage is a wonderful thing, especially the one you have with Muriel," Aryl explained. "But you're almost there. Here, let me help move you along."
With that said, Aryl reached out a hand that was closed. Then he opened it up to reveal a tiny light. And as the light lifted up from his open palm, the Song of Breaking was heard once more as it rolled out of the colorful clouds topping the Mountain of Song.
Do not rejoice over me my enemy,
You who look at innocence with your eye,
Do not rejoice or take pleasure when I fall,
For I will arise.
This time, a second verse was heard as they tiny light flew out of Aryl's hand so Jeaf could get a better look at it.
Now that the day of darkness is over,
And the father's love has brought me to the light,
Now all chains will be broken,
And Parm Warl will come to make things right.
After the verse was done, the light came to hover in front of Jeaf's face. Then it went out, leaving a spinning object the width of man's finger in its place. As the spinning slowed down, Jeaf could make out the object he knew was there, the ring Muriel's father had given her on the day she was born. Filled with magic, it never had to be resized, for the ring grew as she did until the day Muriel lost it when the dreaded River Children took her captive to the Cave of Forgetfulness where she was held prisoner for fifteen cruel winters. It was the very ring whose magic made certain Muriel's escape attempt from the loathsome subterranean kingdom was successful.
"The ring is the sign of Muriel's father's love for her," Jeaf spoke to the others in hushed tones. "What’s it doing here?"
"I think it wants to have a father to father chat," Aryl smiled as he spoke to his son. "Or, should I say, a grandfather to father talk."
With the memory of Muriel and him sitting before the fireplace with their four young sons gathered around them lingering in his mind, Jeaf said, "I'm a father, just like Laz."
The ring stood motionlessly in the air as it digested what it had heard. Then it gave out a burst of light and began spinning again before it flew off to the Warl of the Living and back to Muriel.
"That's right," Vlad'War only allowed himself the briefest of smiles, "and like Laz before you, you need to save your child, for Ay'Roan's life is in danger, and he will surely die unless you do something."
With that said, the Mountain of Song exploded in brilliant light that momentarily blinded Jeaf. When his vision finally returned, and the purple spots were chased away, he was horrified at the sight of a bloodied man being mauled by a fiery, winged-cretchym the likes of which he had never seen before, an abominable thing he knew Ab'Don had used a hapless griffin's essence to conjure up. Coming out of his dream as he had, it took less than a moment for him to recognize Ay'Roan, even though his mental faculties were still compromised and he had to shake his head to make certain he was perceiving things accurately.
Reaching out with his mind, he spoke to his son. Ay'Roan, is that you?
Father, Ay'Roan was able to force out a simple reply past the prison of pain that surrounded him. Help me!
Then the Hag's spears stabbed Jeaf while the Sphere of Power collapsed in on him to make certain the fiery lances were rammed home.
But the Hammer of Power was not idle. Perceiving that its master was in danger, Vlad'War's Child sent out a bolt of blue light that errupted into a magical shield as it struck Jeaf; enveloping him in an exoskeleton made of mystical power; one far stronger than those surrounding Ay'Roan and J'Aryl; so strong that it rebuffed the Hag spears, bending them backwards like metal shavings cut from a rod of iron as the Hag continued to drive them forcibly forward. In the end, the orb itself smashed into the magic shielding Jeaf and wrapped him up like he was a piece of meat purchased at a butcher's shop.
Looking like a butterfly struggling to get free from a chrysalis, Jeaf wormed about inside the two enveloping forces that warred against each other: one determined to crush his body inside its tightening grasp; the other resolutely set on seeing that didn't happen; neither getting the best of the other. That was until the Hammer of Power flew through the air and slammed against the shell of Hag magic that surrounded Jeaf, crackin
g it like it was a layer of ice covering a pool of water that a thirsty passerby wanted to drink from.
With that done, Jeaf drove his fist through the compromised prison wall and opened his hand. In a blink of an eye, Vlad'War's Child slammed into Jeaf's palm. After the talisman pulled his fingers around its handle, the Hammer Bearer and the Hammer of Power were finally reunited after five long winters of separation.
The second the reunion was complete, the shield of gossamer blue light that covered Jeaf's body like armor pulsed once. Sending its light across the cavern's expanse, the Hammer of Power swept away all of the Hag magic. Not one bit of it remained. Roy'Dohk was rudely divested of the flames that had covered him. Only the Sorcerer's luminous steel blade remained unaffected, though Ab'Don grimaced as the wave of blue light hit him.
With hammer in hand, Jeaf was slowly lowered onto the stone table that lay below him. When his feet touched the rock, the blood stains covering it vanished as quickly as the Sphere of Power had.
Seeing Ab'Don wasn't wasting time to arrange the Hag for battle, Jeaf leapt off of the stone table and slammed the Hammer of Power against the ground. The sound of exploding thunder filled the cave as a massive sonic wave knocked the onlookers to the ground, ally and foe alike. Only the Sorcerer, whose brilliant sword's edge forced the sonic wave around him like he was an immoveable boulder sitting in a river, remained upright in the midst of his servants. Roy'Dohk was tossed through the air looking like a kite whose string was broken by an unexpected gale force gust of wind. Ay'Roan was thrown from his grasp as the two were driven upward toward the cavern's roof.
Striking the cavern's ceiling ahead of the two flailing enemies, the wave passed into the keep proper, shaking the fortress as it stretched out to lay hold of the stone's roots. Once the wave reached its goal, the shaking increased as it continued its assault on Chylgroyd's Keep's foundations.