Chronicles of the Planeswalkers

by B. T. Robertson

  "That is why the walls are in such condition!” Aeligon yelled to the others. “Quickly, Wesnoc, drop us off down there on that walkway below the parapet."

  Wesnoc did as ordered, and dove swiftly toward the perch. As he swung in close, the giants looked toward them and roared.

  "Their eyes are rolled white!” Foran screamed in terror.

  "Hurry! We must dismount before they get wise to our presence,” Aeligon urged. “They can only see the roc."

  Wesnoc perched and stretched his wings out as he screeched, concealing the five, who slid off his back and ducked into the postern at the rear of the remaining turret. Once they were away, Wesnoc shot back into the sky just as a storm of stones came crashing down where he had been previously.

  As the bird made off safely, Aeligon and Aerinas approached the edge of the battlements and looked through broken sections to the courtyard below. The giants went back to their mindless work, their bashing against the walls sending shudders throughout the entire stronghold.

  "Where is King Hrathis?” Aeligon asked; he looked at Aerinas with concern. “We may already be too late. Who knows how long this has been going on."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Look at their hands and clothes."

  Sure enough, the wizard was very observant. The clothes that the giants wore were torn and ragged, not to mention the plethora of blood stains and dirt covering them. Their hands were swollen and bloody, which transferred to the handles of their axes and war hammers. Carcasses lay about that were unidentifiable at that distance, but the reek was unmistakable.

  "We must find him, if he is still alive.” Just then Aeligon looked up at the tower before them. There was no way of telling if any person dwelt within, but it had to be investigated. “Let's start here, shall we? Lynais, Arn, you two guard this entrance. Shout if anything comes along that would not seem welcome.” Aeligon quickly crouched into the postern once again and wearily started to climb the winding staircase. He kept his staff held ahead of him. Pux was alert and ready to unleash fury at the first sight of trouble. Aerinas and Foran followed with swords drawn.

  The staircase emptied onto a stone floor at the top, which the three emerged from watchfully. As they stood there, they heard some shuffling off to their left. They spun and ducked just as glass bottles sailed toward them, shattering glass across the floor. Aerinas jumped high into the air, and knocked over the bookcase from where the bottles emerged. He was just about to bring his sword down when he heard a voice call out in fear.

  "Don't! Don't kill me! Please! I thought you were him! I thought you were him!"

  Aerinas’ peered in disbelief at a creature balled up into a corner behind some old crates and other debris. He sheathed his sword, and roughly snatched up the shaking man, who looked no older than himself.

  Aeligon and Foran rushed over to see the boy Aerinas shoved to the middle of the room and ordered to his knees.

  "What is your name?” Aeligon asked the boy, who continued to shake and whimper quietly.

  The young man had been severely malnourished. His body was little more than a skeleton with some skin hanging loosely on the bone. His clothes were worn, and his hair was greasy, hanging about, and in need of grooming. Though he was not a boy, his young age was still cause for them to refer to him as such, for the elves and the wizard before them had lived for hundreds of years already.

  "M-m-my name ... is Timothy,” he said, quaking and nervously shuffling his hands together. “I a-a-m the k-k-king's aide.” He continued to stutter and twitch.

  Aeligon saw the boy's need for food, and withdrew a couple of green apples from his pouch. Timothy snatched them up and began gnawing at them, spraying juice and debris across his face and the floor. The wizard and the elves looked at each other with pity as they waited for the boy to finish before pressing him further. The king had to be somewhere if his aide were alive. At least that is what they hoped.

  Once Timothy finished, he sat down heavily on his backside. The twitching had subsided a bit, though he still rubbed his hands together lightly.

  "Now, we know you can speak. Can you tell us what happened here?” Aeligon whispered out of fear of shocking the boy.

  Timothy's voice was broken and quivering. “Twenty one years ago today,” he began with his eyes closed, “King Hrathis ordered a party of five men to go into the mountains of Farrin the Giant.” The boy pointed out the window behind him without opening his eyes, one of the few times he would unclasp his hands during the account. “Drezdain was ambushed near the fallen fortress of El-Caras in the Hollow Wood. He had a fortress there, hidden within the cover of the surrounding woods, to catch any creatures passing between Dunandor and Merchindale."

  Aeligon, Aerinas, and Foran gazed at the poor boy, still wondering what fate had brought to the once great king of men.

  "Please continue,” urged Foran softly. Concerned eyes were upon Timothy.

  "General Drezdain and his men turned to drunkenness while they were away. With their guard down, they were ambushed by orcs, and were slaughtered. We didn't even catch word of it until the king became suspicious when reports stopped coming back from Drezdain and his scouts. A search party was sent out to find out what had happened. Hrathis feared the worst. A few weeks later, they returned with bad news. Word of the slaughter spread through the townsfolk like wildfire once the king broke it to them. The king is an honest soul, and could not withhold the news from the families who lost their loved ones. He called the same five men who searched Drezdain's Keep to go into the mountains and seek out Farrin the Giant. He was a long time friend of the king, but a reclusive one. No more than two weeks later, the five returned with eleven of the largest creatures I had ever laid eyes upon."

  "Farrin was found?” Aeligon asked with surprise in his eyes. “Hmm, this is indeed remarkable. I fought beside Farrin long ago, in the Great War of Calaridis."

  Timothy continued with the same sour look upon his face, unmoved by Aeligon's triumphant story of victory. “Festivities celebrated their return in friendship to King Hrathis. It did not take long for Farrin to agree to aid the king in finding Drezdain's murderers. Farrin and his five giants stayed a couple of days longer to rest and gather as much information as possible. There were many meetings between Farrin and the king..."

  "Why were there only six giants going on such a large quest?” Aerinas interrupted. “Surely there were more of them living in the mountains."

  "The Cray live there, Aerinas,” Timothy answered. “Have you ever heard of, let alone seen, a Cray?"

  "As a matter of fact, I have, recently."

  "Then you already know why giants were left behind up in the hills to guard their homes. The Cray would've taken advantage of the strongest being away from home. They are sneaky and ravenous creatures. Besides, I forgot to tell you that there were more than six giants there. There were also five left behind here in Gudred, to protect the people and the king during that time."

  "Please continue,” urged an irritated Aeligon. “There is much more to this story."

  "Yes, well, after the meetings were settled, Farrin, his five giants, and an army assembled by the king were summoned to the courtyard. All were in attendance. Every man, woman, and child of Wiltrout entered through the gate that day. It was a sight to see, I tell you. Aeligon, you especially would have loved it."

  "I'm sure he would have,” said Pux. “He loves great gatherings where he may be the center of attention."

  For the first time Timothy's thin face opened with a smile, which turned into laughter. “And who or what is this?” he asked, still chuckling from the comment. Aeligon wore a look of disgust.

  "I am Pux, since I will receive no introduction by anyone in this room,” Pux said, his face appearing in Aeligon's staff. “I would shake your hand, but I fear that I possess no limb with which to do so."

  "How about this then?” Timothy patted the top of the staff.

  "That'll do just fine, just not too hard, though, because my he
ad still hurts there from Aeligon whacking me into trees and rocks on our journey here."

  More laughing ensued from the boy, who was thoroughly enjoying Pux's antics more than Pux's long-suffering master.

  "This is all well and good, Pux,” Aeligon said, “but we need to get to the bottom of this boy's mind. Do you mind hushing up so he may finish speaking?” Aeligon furrowed his brow. Pux hushed up quite rapidly.

  Timothy was visibly more ready to continue. Color returned to his face.

  "Now, what happened after that?” Aeligon asked, anxious to access the vital information stored in Timothy's mind before it escaped him for good.

  "It's hard to say, sir,” said Timothy. “The crowd left for the evening. The giants and men were given their own private speech by King Hrathis in the courtyard when the gates were shut. Night was falling, so the shadows grew. When the king was finished, the giants and men were going to the village to sleep. As the gate was raised, a hooded figure appeared in our midst. His hands and voice were his power. With one motion of his hand, the gate guards were thrown aside and the gate came crashing back down, locking us all inside the courtyard. With another motion, the lot of us was frozen, unable to move, speak, or use our weapons. I can't remember what he said, but I do know what power his words held. I became scared. The king was the only one allowed to speak. When he did, the warlock used his power to pull King Hrathis closer to him, while suspended in the air. He sealed his lips and mouth shut, then raised him up to the tallest tower, the one you are in now. The giants you see below you aren't the giants anyone would remember. They've been put under some kind of spell that turned them into mindless slaves, ordered to gut this stronghold piece by piece, no matter how long it took."

  Timothy hung his head and started to cry. The pain and suffering he had experienced, not only within himself, but also what he had seen throughout the village, was more than any normal man was meant to bear.

  Aeligon bent forward, placed his hands on Timothy's hands, and whispered to him softly. “Timothy, what happened to the king? We set out from Mynandrias on a quest to rid the land of this filth you speak of. I must know where he is so I may study the nature of this spell that locks Gudred in its icy grip. I need to stop this suffering. Please."

  Timothy stopped crying, wiped the tears from his face, and rose to his feet. He motioned for them to follow. Aeligon and the elves obliged. He led them around the center stone column in the middle of the floor. When they reached the other side, Timothy pointed toward a large bookcase that stood against the stone column. Aerinas and Foran moved in and slid the bookcase away gently. This revealed a dark hole carved out in the wall. Aeligon snapped his fingers, and a flame sprung up in the palm of his hand. As the light sped into the dark crawlspace, a loud grunting was heard that startled everyone. Aeligon extinguished the light and looked at Aerinas, then at Timothy.

  "He hates light,” the young man said. “It hurts his eyes. He can't speak anymore, so he just grunts excessively. We cannot take him from there."

  "You must give me some time with him alone,” Aeligon said to the others. “I must break this spell that seals his speech, but it will require time and concentration."

  Aerinas and Foran nodded. After they sealed the hole with the bookcase once again, they took Timothy back to the place where they had found the poor lad. Aeligon and Pux were left alone with the wretch of a king, who was once the greatest man in all of Vaalüna. Aeligon felt pity for him, but shunned it quickly, as his task became apparent.

  Pux remained silent, since he knew that the wizard's undertaking was not an easy one. Given the amount of time they spent together, their routine in any situation was fairly predictable. Aeligon disappeared deeper into the hole.

  Once inside, Aeligon needed no light to see the king. His eyes were gifted with a seeing spell. Repeatedly, the wizard contemplated the possibility of confronting a massive evil infection in the king's mind. This would be difficult. However, he had never tried to banish an evil hex from a human soul. The shock could kill Hrathis. The spell that plagued him would not take kindly to being thrown out of its host. Aeligon would have to be careful. It would be trying for both of them.

  Aeligon knelt next to the seething and drooling king. Hrathis’ white eyes rolled over and over again in their sockets. Aeligon noticed that the king still had his royal robe on, though no human eye could have discerned it as such. He was soiled similar in nature to Timothy. His hair was very long and oily from twenty-one years of imprisonment, and insanity. Aeligon looked upon the king, his friend and ally long ago, when Vaalüna was being rebuilt in the lands of the former Calaridis, and frowned. Hrathis knew there was someone there, and flinched when Aeligon brought close his hands. This made the wizard reconsider what was going on.

  "Hrathis,” Aeligon whispered softly to the king, “do not be afraid. You know who I am. Long ago I aided you and your people. Nod your head if you understand me."

  To Aeligon's surprise, the king nodded slowly; his white eyes momentarily stopped their chaotic spinning.

  Very good, Aeligon thought with hope renewed. “Can you see anything, Hrathis? Are you able to see me with those eyes of yours?"

  Hrathis shook his head more violently that time. The little bit of light that was coming into the dark space was enough to hurt them. Aeligon figured as much, but the fact that Hrathis had flinched when he brought his hands close had told him that his sight might still be functioning. Aeligon prepared to take the journey into the king's mind.

  From a pouch, the wizard withdrew some salves and ointments and laid them out on a leather cloth with which he covered a section of the stone floor. He also drew out a flask with water inside and another clean cloth, which was also laid next to the ointments. Lastly, the Healer took out another flask full of a green substance.

  Once he was finished preparing his materials, Aeligon laid the king back and brushed the mop of hair out away from his face. The king was remarkably calm, still resisting the evil inside of him, even after such long exposure. His mind was stronger than any man Aeligon had ever come across, but this was a supernatural display. Hrathis’ face was streaked with old, dry blood turned black from the long years of improper cleaning. Aeligon soaked the cloth with water from the flask, and washed his face and neck clean. After that, the Healer took a vial of healing salve and applied it to the cuts and bruises suffered from fits of rage against the cold stone of the citadel. This made the king wince in pain as the healing power of the high quality ointment penetrated his pain's defenses, and flushed it away. Hrathis’ cuts and bruises faded almost instantly upon application of the salve, bubbling and steaming slightly before sealing up. Aeligon smiled and continued to patch up the visible wounds.

  Once the surface abrasions were taken care of, Aeligon moved the leather cloth aside; he positioned himself near Hrathis’ head and placed a soft pillow under it. Aeligon whispered to him, “Just relax for me now.” The king did not acknowledge the request, but remained perfectly still for the Healer.

  Aeligon placed his hands on either side of Hrathis’ temples, nodded his own head, and closed his eyes. A rush of visions and memories flooded Aeligon's mind. The wizard shook from the effects of the images that came upon him of pain and suffering, of entrapment, of a hooded menace, of the giants’ mindless destruction of each other and of Gudred, and of Wiltrout's enslavement. Aeligon squinted his eyes tightly, feeling the same pain as the king in one serving. He never broke contact with him. He was searching, looking for a cause, for some residue of evil that still held Hrathis in its icy grip.

  "Return me to the hooded one!” Aeligon shouted loudly, willing Hrathis’ mind to obey and return him there. It worked. Aeligon was standing in the midst of the frozen giants and men on the courtyard floor. Even the hooded one was frozen with hands outstretched. Aeligon walked over to the other and put his hands on his. Suddenly, the hood flew back and a shockwave blasted Aeligon away from him. It knocked Aeligon to the floor of the citadel and broke his contact with t
he king's mind.

  "Aeligon, are you all right?” Pux shouted, concerned.

  Aeligon grunted as he returned to his sitting position. “Yes, I'm all right. An ancient force holds this man. I cannot identify it for certain, but I think I can break the spell on his mind. It does not take much effort to blind the eyes of the weak-minded and, alas, men by nature are thus. The spell on Hrathis is not particularly strong or dangerous, but has held him captive for so long. It will be the same when we face the giants."

  "That will be far worse a job than this,” Pux noted. “Giants are far bigger, and have greater strength than these men here. It will be much more difficult getting them to lie down for us while the others watch."

  "We shall see, my humble comedian.” Aeligon smirked and gathered up his things, repacking them. He backed away from the king slightly as he reached for Pux. “You know what we must do."

  Pux nodded, and the face disappeared from sight. Aeligon held Pux in front of him vertically. There was barely enough room inside the space to do so. Aeligon closed his eyes again, and began to chant ancient words from a learned language. The king started to writhe and twist, grunting as he did so. Aeligon kept chanting. After a few minutes of it, he opened his eyes. His eyes contained a shimmer of blue light, not unlike the glow of the Lenthan crystals in Mynandrias. Suddenly, the king's own head started to glow the same color as the Healer's eyes. The writhing stopped. Hrathis’ eyes rolled back to their dragon-green pupils of old, and instead of grunting, his throat opened wide and bellowed a wave of voice that the land had not heard for over two decades of time.

  The shockwave sent out by his voice shook the foundations of the tower. Aeligon stopped chanting after that, and his eyes returned to their natural blue-gray shade.