by Rex Hazelton
Standing on all fours, Seym Blood remained upright, even though he was driven backwards as he struggled to do so with his head lowered as he threw his powerful should into the oncoming wave. At the same time, J'Aryl's strong grip kept him from being blown off of the griffin's broad back. A moment later, Seym Blood spread out his wings and lept into the air as he sped off to catch Ay'Roan before he fell.
When Jeaf stood, while pieces of the cavern's ceiling fell all about him as the magical waves continued battering the keep's roots, the Hammer of Power already looked like ice melting before a blazing fireplace. If one assumed this was because of all of the firepits filled with leaping flames, they'd be wrong. The rivulets of silver, that wound their way through grooves cut into the wooden handle that spelled out a Word of Power and down over Jeaf's forearm proved the point. Moving purposefully along, the rivulets of liquid metal wrapped themselves about the Hammer Bearer's flesh with the same precision Vlad'War used when making the powerful talisman. The three rubies, that adorned the hammer's head, settled into the flesh covering Jeaf's knuckles at the same time the lattice work of silver was absorbed into his forearm's flesh. The wooden handle followed the magical silver as it disappeared inside the man who had held it only a brief moment before.
When all was done, Jeaf Oakenfel stood with his right arm lifted up and his empty hand balled up into a fist. Only the red discoloration on his knuckles and the silver cast that was seen on his skin remained to give proof that the quickly transpiring event had really happened. But that proof was only for the onlookers. Jeaf had no need of a visual aid when the Hammer of Power's magic was coursing through his veins, into his mind, and through his body. Filled with Vlad'War's might, that was an accumulation of all things that once made the Age of Star's Blood great, Jeaf felt like he could move a mountain. That was a good thing to, for such a barrier stood right in front of him to put his feelings to the test- the Sorcerer whose rule had thrown a shroud of despair over all of mankind.
Before the Hag had time regather themselves, Jeaf strode past them while they were still engrossed in reigniting the black candles the sonic wave had so rudely put out. Not willing to strike until he had repositioned the Hag for battle, Ab'Don snarled at the man who passed through the dangerous Hag, making them look like a pack of bloodhounds parting to let a huntsman by.
Once Ab'Don arranged the throng of black wizards closest to him to his liking, he turned to face his foe with a wry smile in place. Sure, he had made a mistake by allowing Jeaf Oakenfel to live as long as he did, and he had miscalculated his understanding of the Hammer of Power's magic, still the day would be his. He would turn the foolish trap Vlad'War had encoded into the Hammer of Power upon its head. What Mishal Parm's chief wizard had meant for good would be turned to evil since his daring plan had put the Hammer of Power at risk by bringing the talisman into the Sorcerer's presence in an untimely way.
Though the hammer was poised to attack like a viper with its head pulled back, Ab'Don was given time to study the threat so he could counter the impending assault by cutting the snake's head off as it struck. The evil he amassed in Chylgroyd's Keep, with all the human sacrifices he and his followers had made here, would make certain that this happened. Unlike the last time the two squared off in the Temple of the Oak Tree, Ab'Don now had the resources he needed to best the Hammer Bearer. In this place, his vile craft had been perfected to the point where the Sorcerer had magnified his dark power to unimagineable proportions. If Vlad'War were still alive, he would see this for himself. As it was, Jeaf Oakenfel would be the one to discover the truth of the matter.
Though the groaning and shaking that rose up into the cavern was not caused by the Wave of Power Jeaf had unleashed when he struck the ground with the magical hammer, the two were linked in a way as yet to be guessed. Unbeknownst to all, when the Hammer of Power flexed its might, it put into motion factors that set off another earthquake that had been gathering energy it would release as the warls continued their inexorable march towards one another. As it was, when Vlad'War's Magic slammed into the Chylgroyd's Keep's reservoir of dark power, the ensuing earthquake quickly built up to an erupting crescendo that was so violent that cracks soon appeared in the keep's massive columns, for the clash of opposing power had placed the keep at the quake's epicenter.
One by one, the columns began to snap like they were teeth struck by a giant cudgel. The first to topple were far from the dungeons and the site of the battle. But like so many things in life, one thing often leads to another, and the momentum of one falling column would be transfered to another. This was precisely what was happening, since Chygroyd's Keep was literally being shaken apart. And as it crumbled, doubt arose over whether any of the combatants would escape its devastation.
It was strange to think that the victors might be crushed by the earthquake before they had time to revel in their triumph. It was stranger still to think that the approaching destruction might not give the combatants enough time to find out who was the strongest. Strangest of all was to think that the outcome to the long awaited war that would soon be fought between the Nyeg and the Ar could be determined here, in a duel between the Sorcerer and the Hammer Bearer that would end with the roof falling down upon them both.
As the ground rose and fell like a plank teetering on top of a boulder, two things happened at the same time. First, Ab'Don dipped his sword into a nearby firepit extracting its power like a quill sucks in ink from an inkpot. Then, with strokes as elegant as an aritist painting a landscape, he dispensed the fire on all who stood behind him, including the savage beasts who watched the doors to their cages open all by themselves. Second, thin tendrils of blue lightning rose out of Jeaf like quickly growing hair as they reached out and touched all who were with him- Neflin and Fane J'Shrym alike- covering them in gossamer radiance. And once this was done, the battle began as the two warring parties converged on each other.
One of these tendrils sought out Ay'Roan's sword that was trapped beneath Roy'Dohk's magic. Finding the edge of the hardened steel, blanketing the weapon that was remade on top of Vlad’War's Anvil, the tendril of power worked its way between the stone and the metal that tenaciously clung to it until it reached Ay'Roan's sword. Once the finger of luminous blue power touched the magic hammered into the sword, the two joined forces to pry up the blanket of magically enhanced steel. Working like a crowbar, Vlad'War's Magic lifted the constraining metal before pulling the sword free as it quickly retreated. The moment Ay'Roan's weapon was clear of the tenacious covering, the blanketing metal snapped back into place and reasserted its grip on the stone beneath it. Then the tendril of blue magic carried the sword to Ay'Roan and placed it into his hand a moment before he began his descent to the cavern floor.
Though the Hag's magic was superceded by the supernatural fire Ab'Don bathed them in, the dark wizards still had tricks of their own they could use to give them an advantage in what was turning out to be a sword fight. Besides, they were experts with the short swords they always carried with them, and their Powers of Intuition made up for anything they physically lacked. In addition, the fiery wild beasts, that attacked anyone bathed in ethereal blue light, proved to be weapons the Hag could wield since they quickly obeyed the dark wizards' commands. With their opponents' attention focused on the feral beasts' assault- wolves, bears, mountain lions, wildcats, and badgers numbered among these- the Hag were free to attack the distracted enemy with their short swords that, enhanced with the fire the Sorcerer used to anoint them with, were able to breach the Hammer Bearer's magic.
If the swirling fight wasn't so deadly, and cries of anger and pain weren't filling the warm cavern's air, an onlooker might think the intermingling of gossamer orange flame and diaphanous blue light was beautiful. But as nature has taught us all, beautiful things are not always safe. The grace of a hawk in flight or the liquid movement of a great cat as it is on the powl are harbingers of death to anything the lethal creatures chose to prey upon. In many ways, magic followed the rules of nature
in this regard. Pretty lights were seldom harmless, and eruptions of sound were rarely celebratory.
Aided by the ravenous animals that fought more to feed themselves than anything else, the Hag led a charge that pushed the Fane J'Shrym back to the edge of the pool of dark water. Any of the raiders who the black-robed wizards felled, were quickly surrounded by guards who assumed the task of trying to finish the fallen ones off. Oddly enough, these squirmishes looked like the guards were trying to extinguish a dying, blue campfire with their flailing swords. At times, two and three guards teamed up to push a single blade into those the Hag had wounded. Turning out to be the most effective way to successfully run their enemies through, the riaders were gratetful that few of the keep's guards were predisposed to sharing the glory of a kill. Thus the necessary teamwork needed to finish the job was often lacking. On the other hand, the invaders were not so reticent to partner up to slay their adversaries.
All the while the cavern shook like it was a gigantic barrel rolling down a rocky hillside. At times, the vagaries of the quaking helped those on one side of the conflict; at other times it helped their adversaries. As it was turning out, luck was nearly as important as strength and skill in fighting.
Raybara joined the Fane J'Shrym's stand against the advancing Hag and the fanged beasts they commanded. Filled with his father's Healing Magic, he attacked the dark wizards with a sword he used with surgical precision to cut away the Hag rot. Dressed in black as he was, the Hag had difficulty spotting him until it was too late. He, on the other hand, had no trouble targeting the black-robed wizards.
Rybara was so effective in what he was doing that he was able to slow the Hag advance. Wounded in significant numbers, the dark wizards let the guards take the lead in the charge as they focused their energies searching for the man who moved like a shadow through their midst. Unaware that Poroth, who was wearing Ay'Roan's ring topped with a magical Wisdor Stone that rendered him invisible when separated into two, had joined Rybara's counter attack, the Hag's confusion was increased. Ay'Roan had given Poroth his ring to keep it from falling into the enemies hands if he failed to defeat the monstrous cretchym he went up against.
The Neflin and the elves of Forest Deep's natural quickness, and Alynd's and Shalamor's inimitable speed, made them formidable foes, even though the Hag and the guards had far greater numbers on their side. Because of this, fewer of these fell than their Fane J'Shrym allies. Still, even with the slow rate that the Neflin were being wounded or slain, their ability to adequately defend themselves would be decreased to a dangerous point if something didn't happen soon. This was true even with Bacchanor, still in griffin form, tearing through the wild beasts and Mar’Gul taking down so many Hag with eyes whose green fire stunned the dark wizards with the magic that Andara had given her; magic that, if truth were told, sought to get a measure of revenge for what the Sorcerer did to the Healing Wizard. You see, even the best of people have their dark side. And you can only stretch a thread so far before it snaps.
Reaching the place where an arrow that has been shot straight overhead pauses before it turns and plummets back to the ground, Ay'Roan experienced a moment of weightlessness just below the cavern's ceiling. That's when the tendril of blue light placed Ay'Roan's sword into his hand. Roy'Dohk, who wasn't so lucky, hit the stone ceiling with a sickening thud that brusquely intitated his descent to the cavern's floor. Having struck his head at impact, the winged-demon flopped about as he fell, his wits having temporarily escaped him.
Unlike the cretchym, Ay'Roan had help coming in the form of his brother and the griffin he rode. And before he had fallen too far, he was wrapped up in J'Aryl's arms as Seym Blood angled downward to absorb the weight and inertia of Ay'Roan's descent. Bala followed carrying J'Aryl's sword so that he would have both arms free to grab his brother. Once on the ground, they joined the Fane J'Shrym ranks and went to work at slowing their retreat. As they fought, the portion of Andara's Magic that had been hammered into Ay'Roan's sword that was remade on top of Vlad'War's Anvil went to work healing his wounds.
Armed with their swords, J'Aryl and Ay'Roan proved adept at keeping the Hag off guard since the dark wizards' magic was easily matched by the ethereal blue fire that danced along their sharp blades' edges.
As Roy'Dohk spred his wings to stop his fall, he finally got his wish. As soon as Seym Blood deposited the brothers safely on the stone floor, he launched himself back into the air to meet the abomination in battle. Clothed in the same diaphanous blue radiance that surrounded the other raiders, for one of the luminous tendrils of magic the Hammer of Power had sent out from Jeaf's body had struck him too, the winged-lion came at Roy'Dohk incensed at the monster Ab'Don had conjured up using griffin essence to complete his work. Still, Seym Blood did not initiate the fight. Instead, he gave the cretchym a proposition.
"Because you have griffin blood flowing in your veins," Seym Blood's deep rumbling voice washed over the snarling cretchym as the two circled each other while their vast wings rythmic beating kept them aloft, "I offer you a truce if you will disavow your allegiance to the Sorcerer and embrace the ways of the Community of Blood that I, myself, will teach you, if you will let me."
"Disavow my father?" At that moment, the cretchym exploded with flames as the Sorcerer pointed his sword at his champion. Feeling his power being renewed, sparks flew out of Roy'Dohk's mouth as he laughed. "Old One, you can't hide your fear behind a lie. There can be no truce between us unless you accept me as Lord. I have nothing to learn from you."
"I have more to teach you than you think." Seym Blood snarled out his reply. "Manners for one, for your arrogance blinds you to the fact that the Community of Blood will never submit to you. Secondly, I would show you how alone you really are, since your father cares for you less than you think. You're only a weapon in his hand and nothing more, certainly not a son in the truest sense of the word."
"You're wrong, Old One," Roy'Dohk bellowed out. "Submit to me or die."
"Then we fight?"
"It's inevitable." Roy'Dohk admitted as he dove at Seym Blood, claw-tipped fingers extended. The roaring the two winged-adversaries sent out as they wildly thrashed at each other joined the cacophonous sound that rose up from the battle below.
Chapter 32: The Hammer Bearer
With all of the unfolding drama, the grand event was getting ready to begin as the Sorcerer and the Hammer Bearer squared off. In spite of the deadly consequences that accompanied the larger fight, everything else was a side attraction. The raiders who had come to set Jeaf Oakenfel free had done their job. It would be his task to see that they escaped the keep. Without his help, the Fane J'Shrym and Neflin were doomed. They knew that this would happen when they volunteered to come. All of their hopes were now tied to the man who had just been aroused from a torture-induced stupor.
Raised to be a warrior from childhood, and having experienced more bizarre things than the entire population of a great city would experience in their combined lifetimes, Jeaf's intial confusion was counterbalanced by the fighting instincts his father had instilled in him.
Accept what you see, Aryl Oakenfel instructed Jeaf. Fight the foe you find, he added. Don't spend undue time trying to figure things out. You’ll be killed before you do. All of these platitudes were given to help Jeaf deal with the disorientation that came with a violent blow to the head. Though he hadn't sustained such an injury, his days of captivity had the same affect on him.
Aryl would have been glad to know that his training didn't fall on deaf ears since Jeaf fought off his confusion by doing only what was necessary. Not knowing where he was, nor having the slightest idea of the dynamics that were in play, the Hammer Bearer simply reacted to the things he saw: the bloodied man, who he took to be his son Ay'Roan, and the dreaded Sorcerer were the chiefest ineterests. Everything else was secondary: the Neflin, the Brie'Shen who Jeaf didn't know had embraced the ancient name of Fane J'Shrym, Mar’Gul, the Hag, and more.
With the Sorcerer standing in front of him, w
hile a small army of Hag and men, all cloaked in fire, swept past him to attack the Brie'Shen and Neflin, Jeaf's attention was focused on Ab'Don. Besides, a griffin he recognized as Seym Blood was streaking towards his son as he tumbled through the air. Since Jeaf couldn't fly, that would have to be enough for now. Besides, there was a young man, who looked a whole lot like an older version of J'Aryl, riding on Seym Blood's back brandishing a sword with blue light dancing on its sharp edges. The moment he saw the luminous blade, he felt the Hammer of Power's magic being drawn to it.
Fortunately being held captive inside the Sphere of Power had its upside. For example, Jeaf didn't need nourishment, nor did he have to relieve himself. Other than the workings of his mind and the minimal air his lungs took in, being inside the magical bubble was like time had stopped. His shoulder length hair remained the same length, as well as his fingernails and toenails, his muscles didn't atrophy from lack of use, nor did he age, though the Hammer of Power's magic had already noticeably slowed this process down long ago. Because of this, he didn't look significantly older than his sons. Physically Jeaf Oakenfel was as ready for battle as he was the day he was taken prisoner in Mishal Parm's ruins. Mentally, it was another matter.
"We're not in Nyeg Warl, you know." Ab'Don swung his sword with hypnotic precision as he adjusted his stance to take into account the floor that shifted beneath his feet as the earthquake continued. "This is not the Temple of the Oak Tree," he added. "We're in Chylgroyd's Keep, one of the seats of my power. The Hammer of Power's magic will not save you here."
The Sorcerer's confidence was tempered by the fact that the Hammer of Power had been reunited with the Hammer Bearer in spite of his safeguards to see that this didn't happen. Ab'Don knew he was taking a risk to keep the two so close together. But if one was to study the properities of venom in any depth, they had to keep a few vipers on hand. Research always had its dangers, especially if one was delving into magic that promised to give the inquisitive power as great as what the wizard Vlad'War once wielded.