Wesnoc banked to the right sharply, turning his trajectory westward. Aerinas’ grip tightened on the leather handles that were secured to the saddle. The roc flew high, the land unfolding before them as they flew just under the clouds. The view was breathtaking for Aerinas, who had never dreamed prior of such flight. Rolling hills were dotted and outlined with trees that formed barriers between the forests and the grass fields. Winter had come, so the burning fire of autumn was giving way to the barren indications of dying leaves and hibernating trees. The only animals seen roaming were the larger animals, much more suited to fight the shattering, cold winds that swept across the land. In the fading sun, the sparkling ice crystals continued to cast the land in a shimmering sea of soft light.
The airborne team sped along the currents of wind and pockets of air toward Fornidain. The sun began to wane in the west.
"We are going to have trouble finding them in the dark, Aerinas,” said Wesnoc.
"They will most likely build a fire, my winged friend,” Aerinas said with a smug smile, “which should be easier to spot in the dark."
Quirking his head, from Wesnoc's beak came snappy retort, “And here I thought you were going to be my most boring passenger. Very good, Master Aerinas, we shall search the ground for a spark amongst the vastness of Fornidain. I must warn you, don't hope too much. Many folk take refuge in the rocks out of fear of the creatures that roam about the countryside."
Wesnoc added, “And you are counting on undying strength. I cannot fly all night long without rest. Besides, this bitter cold is surely bound to have its effect on you, young elf. You wouldn't want to risk my wings collapsing from frostbite at this height, would you?"
Suddenly, Wesnoc stopped flapping his large wings and pointed his nose to the ground sharply. The sudden movement dislodged Aerinas from the saddle. The bird, with a horrified Aerinas falling free, dropped some distance. When Wesnoc was satisfied that he had made his point, he opened his wings, and the elf came thumping down once again on the saddle, breathless and shaking violently.
"That was not at all humorous, you filthy bird,” shouted Aerinas angrily. “I understood your point without the need of demonstration."
Wesnoc continued to laugh hysterically, barely able to keep his heading. “It was only a small lesson in the ways of a roc, Master Aerinas. I meant you no harm, nor would I allow any harm to come to you. I have had many passengers crawl onto my back in my time, and none of them had your spirit. You amuse me."
Aerinas’ grip was so tight that his skin turned white at the knuckles from then on, as they glided ever nearer to Fornidain.
* * * *
As it had done countless times before, the sun sank behind the crooked line drawn by the Farrin Mountains on the burnt horizon. It cast the plains of Fornidain into a profound darkness that was wide and enveloping.
The party had already chosen an outcropping of rock earlier, and had made it there with some time to spare. Tristandor wanted to make sure that no creatures had already selected it as their own refuge for the night. It was searched thoroughly before they retreated underneath the stone lid jutting out to form a crude roof. A fire was built near the mouth, but far enough back to keep their presence as secret as possible. The fire would be helpful if direwolves came calling, for wolves hated the thirsty orange tongues.
Aeligon retired at the farthest point inside the small cave. He used his leather bag for a pillow, and tried to go to sleep. The others did the same, except for Ithyllna, who sat near the edge to keep a watch outside. She seldom slept, the distrust within her keeping her ever wary of predators.
The air was thin and cool, and the wind made slight howling noises when it periodically whipped through the rocks. A few snow flakes started to clutter the air, a strong sign that the harshness of winter would soon be there.
Suddenly, Ithyllna sprang to her feet and stomped out the fire with her foot. Tristandor roused and crawled over to her quickly, as she scurried back under the cover of the rock.
"What is it?” asked Tristandor, trying to look in the direction she was looking.
"I saw a shadow pass by overhead. The moon and stars revealed as much. It made no sound, as if it held power against noise."
Schnick! Ithyllna readied one of her deadly blades, keeping it hidden so the moonlight would not betray her. Her form was poised like a snake ready to strike. In addition to the small throwing knives she wore hidden beneath her garments, she also had two longer knives. They rested in leather sheaths under her cloak on her back, angled upwards so they formed a “V” when they jutted out behind her neck. It looked as if she had horns, though little mention was ever made of it, since it seemed part of her garb. Little did anyone know that when she crossed her arms to look at you crossly, she was gripping the hilts of the knives, readying to strike at a moment's call.
Tristandor woke Lynais, who was closest to him. The elf stirred, but awoke quietly.
The three sat and looked at the star-filled sky intently, waiting for another pass of the shadow. It never came. No sound or trace of any creature was seen that night, though much sleep was lost by Tristandor and Ithyllna.
"Our first night, and already we are seeing shadows,” said Tristandor softly to Ithyllna, who simply nodded to her leader.
Her focus was on the sky, and her body never moved much except for the deliberate movements of her head and eyes. She was far too distrusting to allow her senses to become dull with fatigue. Lynais fell back asleep quickly.
The next morning, they awoke to the fresh scent of lilac and sweetgrass, named for the fragrance that emanated from its stem. It grew in small clumps near the rock bases, choosing not to mingle with the other grass. The sweetgrass used the scent to entice insects to come partake of the liquid, only to find that they were being consumed by the creature, concealed by the frock of red blades in its center.
To most other creatures, the sweetgrass's aroma was a pleasurable tease for the nose, and was a welcome sign that winter had not yet been able to squash all creatures into hibernation.
Mingled with the smell of the sweetgrass, was the smell of potatoes and breadcakes. A new fire was built to replace the one that Ithyllna had put out the night before, and on it sat a cast iron griddle with the tasty morsels. When breakfast was ready, Tristandor called for everyone to gather. Ithyllna was not with them. She was sitting on top of the largest rock in the formation, staring up at the sky much like she had done from below during the night. Tristandor called for her.
"Ithyllna, come and eat. You did not sleep last night, so do not think you can pass up a good meal to start the day. You will be drained enough by the time the moon wakes again tonight."
Ithyllna sprang down from her perch gracefully, and sat with her legs crossed before the fire. She grabbed a helping of the cakes and potatoes, and began to eat. She remained quiet and intent, never uttering a word during the meal.
"I heard we had a slight problem with a shadow last night,” piped Aeligon amidst the sounds of eating, more so his own.
Ithyllna stopped eating and looked at him, nodding to the wizard in silent confirmation. Aeligon simply nodded, and went back to his food.
"From now on, we do not build a fire in the rocks,” said Tristandor. “Whatever soared above our heads last night surely knew of our whereabouts. We must be cautious, for the enemy will creep up on us if we are not."
Tristandor finished his breakfast, then stood and put away his plate and eating utensils. “We waste no time. Finish eating, then we go."
After all had finished eating, Lynais and Arn prepared the horses. They had been bedded down in the tall grass overnight since the cave was too small to house the six of them. Grass had been hacked down, and thrown over the horses to conceal them. The animals did not disagree. They were saddled and then allowed to graze until the party made off again.
* * * *
Night had fallen on the land below, but the moonlight paved the sky with illumination as Wesnoc and Aerinas slowed their speed ov
er Fornidain. Wesnoc's eyesight was far beyond the talent of even the elves, and he knew the lands well from years of service.
"Fornidain is below us, Master Aerinas,” said the roc, and ceased flapping his wings to silence the huge rush of noise they made as they pulled at the air. “I can glide for long periods of time in silence."
"I'll bet you can,” said Aerinas quietly, afraid to kill the attempt at stealth with his own voice.
Together, they searched for the lone light shining faintly on the surface below. Alas, with all the skill hidden within both pairs of eyes, no light was found.
"Perhaps they spotted us after all, and put out the fire,” said Wesnoc as he came to rest on the grassy plain.
"That, or maybe they were well hidden in the rocks and did not have need of a fire,” said Aerinas, dismounting.
"Atop my back you will be far more secure, Master Elf. This land is no place to put your feet on alone, and at night. If you are atop my back, far more secure will you be."
Aerinas heard a wolf cry in the distance, and quickly clambered back onto the roc's back. “This will be warmer for me anyway,” he said comically. He rested his head in the rough feathers of Wesnoc, and the two slept soundly the entire night without so much as a bug bite.
Before daybreak, Wesnoc and Aerinas went scouring the land for any sign of food. Wesnoc was a large warbird and carnivorous by nature, hence his appetite was quite immeasurable. Aerinas ate some breadcakes he had along while Wesnoc searched. Finally, they caught sight of a pond. Wesnoc swooped down fast, wings outstretched and talons lowered. As he skimmed the surface, his talons tore into the water and plucked from it a large fish. It wiggled about, but was no match for the long protrusions that had lanced into its body. Wesnoc's large wings flapped wildly to gain altitude once more. He then landed on the crest of a large rock, which was the best place to feast.
After the two had finished eating, they took to the sky again to search for the company of elves lead by Aeligon. Wesnoc knew the road to Gudred well and flew its length tirelessly, taking few breaks along the way. Finding no sign of the others, they stopped to talk.
"Wesnoc,” Aerinas said tiredly, “we have been searching all day, and found nothing."
"Yes, I know, Master Aerinas. They must not be traveling upon the road between Mernith and Gudred: a wise decision, though a tiresome one for us. They obviously have taken some other route to get to Gudred castle."
Aerinas pondered for a moment, and then had an idea.
"Let us just fly ahead of them to Gudred. We can scan the stronghold and village from above to assure that no trap awaits them. If all is clear, we can simply wait there until they arrive. You can take all the rest you need, and I can council with King Hrathis, before my father gets there and silences me. I am sure that he will take us in gladly. What do you say?"
"I would not like to travel there alone, Master Aerinas. But, in lieu of our current predicament, it would seem the wiser of the two choices before us. In this light, we risk danger flying around this land. I am a large target, and many foul creatures scour this land that never used to. Thus, I will heed your bidding."
Aerinas climbed back aboard his winged escort. Due to Wesnoc's large wings flapping hard to lift the pair into the sky, they did not hear the wild screams from below in their westward flight toward the Farrin Mountains. It only took them a few hours to reach the stronghold of Gudred.
* * * *
Aeligon and the elves plodded along toward Gudred, though not upon the road that was laid to aid travelers on such a journey. Instead, he chose to lead them through the taller grass of Fornidain west of the path. It was slower going, but the sage and brush concealed them all the more. The elves wore cloaks that enabled them to blend in seamlessly with the thick carpet of green and brown.
* * * *
The company was still in good spirits in light of the shadow passing overhead the night before. Aeligon and Tristandor talked together while the others kept watch over the sky and land.
"What do you know of King Hrathis?” Tristandor asked of Aeligon, after small talk of the shadow passed.
"I do not know as much as you would wish me to,” confessed the wizard. “I only know of the history surrounding his kingdom. Of his current whereabouts or dealings, I know very little, for I have not been to see him in quite a long spell."
"Perhaps you should fill me in on what you do know, Aeligon,” said Tristandor sternly. “I do not think that I should behold Gudred with little knowledge of who hosts us. My awareness of the man is far less than even your own."
"To speak plainly, he is the one king responsible for the rebuilding of the realms of Vaalüna after Hydrais was banished and Calaridis fell. The realms were once again established, Sheevos restored balance, and the races helped one another rebuild. It was a time of peace and victory. But something was missing, Tristandor, that no one spoke of until now. I felt it along with many others in the Order of Light. Something was growing and feeding off of the doubts that Hydrais was not properly disposed of. Long debates were held after the War ended, ones that should have taken place before. There were many, including myself, who thought it strange that Hydrais was banished instead of destroyed. The Nether is capable of rendering any soul powerless, but Hydrais’ power was far different from any normal creature. His power fed off of death, destruction, and evil. How could we have known what the outcome of his banishment into the Nether would be? Something pulses inside the earth that I can feel, sense. You, yourself, have felt it, have you not?"
Tristandor nodded. “Yes, all of my people have felt it. Spirits visit our Grove of Souls from time to time. Although most of the souls are those of lost elves, every now and then a new soul comes along. It was one of those souls that caught me off guard one evening as I was walking along. It told me that the spirits are disturbed, and that a great force was amassing within the swells of time. I did not know what was being told to me, but I knew of what it spoke since I could feel it deep inside my own soul. Despair had come to the creatures of the forest, and even the trees felt its presence."
"What happened after the apparition warned you?” asked Aeligon.
"Nothing. It disappeared, and I kept the warning to myself all these long years."
"You had your reasons, Tristandor,” Aeligon said. “You are not a Seer, and could not see the full purpose of your visit. For that you cannot be blamed. I am grateful you have told me now."
"Please go on, Aeligon. I need to know what you know."
"Your visit, coupled with the fact that your son disobeyed and traveled to El Caras, was more proof to me that there was something far more sinister at work here. I fear the worst, Tristandor.” Aeligon looked at Tristandor with troubled eyes, more of regret than fear.
"The worst? From what?"
"A great cloud is sweeping over my mind the closer we get to Gudred, like some force holds it captive already. We must be extra careful, for Gudred is hard to approach from its face. I think we should risk the extra time to survey the stronghold from afar, before we get too close."
"Do you feel that King Hrathis has switched sides?” Tristandor asked.
"No,” Aeligon said, “but I do believe he is not who he used to be."
"You have not told me all that you know regarding the Order of Light,” Tristandor accused suddenly. The remark caused Aeligon to turn to him with brows furrowed. Tristandor held his gaze before justifying his pressuring.
Aeligon turned from the elf's heavy glance, pausing a long while before answering. “Tristandor, do you know of the Sorcerer Haarath who hails from the floating isle of Resforian, the city that you can see upon the horizon to the south?"
"I have heard of him. He was thought dead some years ago, due to reports that he has not left the island in quite a long time. No one has heard of, or seen him. No evidence of his presence is discernable in the towns’ spirits. Trade and commerce have also increased there. Mynandrias has traded goods with Resforians recently as well. The entrance to his
lair is sealed. Unless there is a hidden passage leading to it that he uses without being seen, we should assume that he is either dead or not at full mental capacity any longer."
"And that is where your folly lies, my elfin friend,” said Aeligon with sadness in his voice, much departed from his usual witty humor.
Tristandor shifted in his saddle and sat tall. “Well, I see that one sour remark deserves another."
Aeligon nodded and continued. “Haarath was once a wizard like me in the Order of Light. He held a high position next to my own in that Order long ago. Once having good alignment, he chose to study the Healing Arts of Palon, the wizard after whom those arts are named. He had taken a trip to broaden his mind, and knowledge of the earth. He was only gone for a few months, yet when he returned he changed drastically. He was less tolerant, and more violent. The arts he once toiled over tirelessly were now disregarded as he delved into as much of the Black Art as he could."
"Black Art? But why would the Order of Light allow such study?” Tristandor asked, puzzled more than ever.
"Black magic is not evil in and of itself, Tristandor,” Aeligon said. “The Black Arts have uses in the world too. However, they were to be studied with the utmost caution and respect, for they were the most volatile of the magic we taught. One had to possess a clean mind empty of all doubt, fear, and aggression. Haarath knew that his new attitude would not warrant such study, so he deceived those in power with his willingness to follow the rules. Needless to say, he did not. He stole the Black Book of Wrantha, the only one of its kind."
"Wrantha?” asked Tristandor, both perplexed and amazed the wizard knew of such things.
"Wrantha is the Keeper of the Nether, Tristandor, and one of the gods that balance all of the Planes that form the fabric of time. The book was written by his own hand. Within this book are the instructions of chaos, of death, and of destruction. It is balanced only by the Book of Light, which the goddess Sheevos guards. Her spirit dwells in a magic Elfstone, named after her, that resides in the Temple of Arünir, where a pillar of light keeps Sheevos suspended at the top. We refer to it as the Pillar of Arünir."
Chronicles of the Planeswalkers Page 19