The events of the past day did not make sense. It troubled him, yet he kept it to himself. He was a loner, a vagabond, cast upon this land to do the bidding of his master, himself. What he had chosen was his own decision and his own path. He believed in fate, in the notion that a hidden power was at work in his life, guiding him, and steering him toward his ultimate end. Whether that was glory or doom, he cared not. He would do what he could to save what he could. The quest set out before him was clear. He would track Callaway and his ship to Dunandor and learn of his deception, and of who was behind the plot to destroy Sheevos.
Arünir plunged against the pounding waves as Mortwar steered her toward the island of Dalen, where he would challenge the wits of a ship that carried a crew more evil than any he had ever known. His thoughts turned once again to another, whom he must contact for aid. The frigid air cracked his lips as he pursed them. A glimmer of hope flared in his dark eyes.
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Chapter 12—Journey to the Dark
The scream could be heard echoing throughout the stone structure like a bell hammer struck at midnight. Aeligon bolted from the king's side and rushed out of the hole, ordering the nervous Timothy to stay with him. The wizard grabbed Pux, and joined Aerinas and Foran before rushing down the spiral staircase.
When they neared the bottom of the stairs, they could hear the sounds of battle raging outside the gate of the tower. The screaming had ceased, but there was a clanking of metal against stone and the shrieking of another creature, as yet unidentifiable to the trio. When they approached the threshold of the doorway, their questions were answered.
Arn was lying in a bloodied heap near the center of the wide walkway that joined the only standing tower with the other broken ones around the wall's outer perimeter. An ax protruded from the center of his broken body, which had been split nearly in two. He had been hit in the back with the implement. Roaring and thundering vibrations rose up from the courtyard below, as more rocks and metal pieces struck the wall and tower hard, chipping even more chunks away.
The screeching they had heard came from Cray that were scaling the walls and overwhelming Lynais, who had somehow managed to get clear of the flying debris.
"Hurry, we must help him,” Foran screamed, drawing his bow and running a few paces ahead. He knelt and fired an arrow into one of the hideous creatures as it threw its hairy claws out at him, sensing the new arrivals. The Cray charged them from all directions.
Aerinas hesitated momentarily, sensing something different. His hand held the blade that had crushed the Carcaradon at Fenduin Lake. He remembered the words of Krüna. She had told him that he had untapped power, which he was now only starting to understand. He had felt it. The sword responded to him, infused itself into his veins, and had become one with his mind and spirit. He could feel it now, throbbing with his heart, as the unseen power once again flooded his senses, and reacting in a microsecond to every instinct he possessed.
Aeligon saw Aerinas’ state of mind, and called out to him. “Aerinas, quickly, we need your help."
In that instant the runes on Aerinas’ sword flared bright red, and the fury invited by them charged through the steel. He growled and sprang from his frozen stance, charging one of the Cray that had turned to face him. The blade struck the beast between the eyes, and forced its way into its head. The infusion of magic and steel burst the skull, causing it to explode violently. Aeligon and the other two elves, along with the remaining Cray, spun at the noise. They saw Aerinas, with his sword glowing with red, hot flame and a dark fury in his hazed eyes, standing over the crumpled body of the twitching wretch. The remaining Cray hissed and scurried away quickly as more debris came hurling up at them from below. The sight of Aerinas, infused with metaphysical power, drew them.
Aeligon was speechless, but did not have the time to care about Aerinas’ newfound power. The giants were clamoring up the stone stairs and bashing their tools of destruction against the walls. He could tell that they were as mindless as the king had been, and had no idea what they were doing. The spell was a mind spell designed to render the conscious of a weak-minded creature into a state of confusion and disarray, rendering the mind incapable of distinguishing between friend and foe.
Aeligon leapt to a nearby outcropping of rock that overlooked the courtyard below, and raised his staff into the air.
"Aeligon! No! Get down from there!” Foran shouted, pulling at the hem of the wizard's cloak. “The giants will split you from head to groin with their axes!"
"Leave me be, Foran.” Aeligon hissed. “And do not interrupt me again!"
Aerinas, having returned to normal after his magic encounter, and although still dazed, grabbed at Foran to get down. A rock struck the wall behind where he had just been standing. The two looked at each other in silent relief, and then watched Aeligon perform his ritual.
The wizard, with Pux held aloft, called into the air. Clouds rolled in rapidly, dark and insidious, carrying a potent weight. The giants looked to the sky, startled by the rumbling sounds and gurgling gestations in the clouds. Their white eyes started to roll around. They were all captivated by the workings of Aeligon, great healer and practitioner of an art that few had ever witnessed.
As the unwitting giants still sent their gaze skyward, a flash of light snapped the air, causing even Aeligon to flinch at its brightness. The giants were thrown down to the stone, blinded by the spell's delivery. They covered their faces with their bloody hands and writhed in pain, roaring and moaning loudly. Aerinas and Foran rose to see what was happening. They saw all of the giants in the same wracked position, tossing and rolling about against the rough texture of Gudred, no longer clutching their weapons and tools.
Finally, Aeligon released his grip on the spell, and the clouds rolled away once more, allowing the sun to shine upon Gudred for the first time in many years. The scrape and clatter of the fleeing Cray was still heard over the rush of silence that settled in the stronghold. The giants’ struggling had ceased, and they simply lay silently still upon the stone. Aeligon and the three elves walked down the passageway leading to the courtyard where they lay. From there they had a much better sight of the horror that befell the great giants.
Farrin himself was ravaged the most. His body was riddled with scars, tears, open wounds that had become severely infected, swollen limbs, bleeding hands, and an unclean face. He breathed heavily. Death was close at hand for all of them. They never would have survived the time it would have taken them to dismantle the stronghold, for it held fast for the twenty-one years of dismemberment. As the party looked around, they caught sight of the rotting carcasses of Cray strewn about the yard, some already melted to the bone. Signs of battle adorned the walls, with dried blood smears and broken bodies littering the passageways and tunnels.
"Foran, go let Ithyllna and Tristandor inside,” Aeligon ordered hurriedly. “I hope they found a safer place to wait us out."
Foran nodded and rushed to the gate. However, he found that the mechanism that held it in place was too cumbersome for him to operate alone.
"Aerinas, give me a hand with this,” Foran asked; he watched his friend scuffle about, no doubt still in a state of shock.
Aerinas sheathed his sword, and moved over to where Foran was struggling to lift the gate. His mind was a cloud of emotion and disbelief. Trying to sort through Krüna's puzzles made his head ache and it angered him further when he thought of his father, who was probably waiting for him on the other side of the gate. Had Tristandor known all along that his son held this special gift of magic? If so, why did he keep it from him and why was he sheltered from finding his own path? Aerinas could almost feel the magic starting to well up inside of him again. Angry, furious energy coursed through his veins. He felt an insurmountable urge to lash out at everyone and everything. He pulled on the chains so hard that the gate rose with little effort. Foran said nothing; he could see the wildness in his best friend's eyes.
When the gate was raised and
latched open, Tristandor and Ithyllna came through almost immediately and ordered the gate to be shut once more.
"What would you call creatures of that sort, Aeligon?” Tristandor asked. It was clearly visible that he and Ithyllna had also battled with the Cray. Ithyllna was still wiping blood from her deadly blades.
Aeligon looked up from tending one of the giants and said, “They are called Cray and they hail from the mountains to our backs. These giants you see before you were the ones who kept them at bay for many years, but now they are let loose upon the land in greater numbers than before."
"What are they?” Ithyllna asked in disgust as she approached.
"They were created by the Dark Lord Hydrais in the time when he dominated the lands of Vaalüna. He needed an army to do his bidding, so he called upon his two witches to create a creature with strength and agility unmatched. The result was the Cray. They have no supernatural powers, but possess enough raw physical abilities to dismember entire armies of men and elves. Once Hydrais was banished to the Nether, they scattered. Divided and leaderless they fled to the hills where few people roamed, save for Farrin and his giants. Aside from the occasional mishap, the Cray stayed far away from the giants’ realm since they were the only creature who could match them."
"What happened here, Aeligon? Why is Gudred in this condition, and where is King Hrathis?” Tristandor was visibly distraught at the state of the once great stronghold.
"I do not yet know who is responsible, but there was a spell of unequaled power placed upon this castle and the surrounding inhabitants. The giants and the townsfolk, including their king, were placed in an altered state of mind, rendering them devoid of will, except enough to process the orders given to them by the foe who cast the spell. Your son has foreseen this.” Aeligon and the others turned to Aerinas.
Aerinas hung his head, and did not want to raise his eyes. His father approached him.
"Of what does Aeligon speak, Aerinas? What does he mean by saying you foresaw these events?” The fire shot through Tristandor's eyes, yet Aerinas did not see.
"I had a vision many weeks ago before you set out with Aeligon for this place. It was what made me to go to Fenduin Lake. Something inside was calling me, guiding me, though I was reluctant in following. I discovered more than you could ever possibly know, Father."
"Is that any excuse to not forewarn us before we set off!?” Tristandor shouted, throwing his hands into the air. Aeligon stepped closer to him, fearful the Elf-Lord might strike his son in a fit of rage, not fit for someone of his stature.
"I did not see the place it was to happen, Father. Surely you cannot believe me to be a seer of some sort. In my vision, I saw a swarm of bodies. All of their eyes were rolled as white as the ones we encountered today. There was an approaching figure dressed all in black, with shadows cast into the cowl that shielded the face from my eyes. It was in these dreams that a voice called out to me."
"What voice? Whose voice do you mean?” Tristandor showed frustration.
"The voice of a creature without shape, one whose spirit envelops the
Earth in constant vigil, one that we had never understood, before I confronted her and her kind that day at the lake. Her name is Niconüin. Her name means Seer, Father. So that is why it seems to you that I have seen visions in detail. I have not, but she most likely has. I call her Krüna, at her request. No other mortal being has ever laid eyes on her, but I was permitted the chance."
"And why do you think that is, Aerinas?” Aeligon asked. Tristandor, on the other hand, was too blinded by his own anger to form an intelligent question of his own.
Aerinas replied, “She told me that I possess a skill of the world that thrived in Vaalüna before Calaridis, a magic that runs through me just as natural as my own blood. The longing in my heart to seek out answers and to adventure beyond the borders of my confinement was more evidence that I had it, yet I still did not see. She suspected, as did I, that I am not the only one who knows of this revelation.” He cast a piercing glance at his father, who stood now with arms crossed. Tristandor said nothing.
"We will speak of this later, Aerinas,” said Aeligon suddenly, noticing the tension mounting between Aerinas and Tristandor. “We have work to do here. The Cray will return at nightfall, and we must get these massive beings indoors somehow. I will do my best to heal them. Quickly now, we must hurry!"
Aerinas and Ithyllna went around checking the fallen giants to see who was in need of immediate attention. Aeligon and Pux went to work healing wounds with Tristandor assisting with his own skill of healing. Lynais and Foran brought water to them from a well near the back of the courtyard. Each one worked tirelessly to bring the wounded behemoths inside before darkness fell. Wesnoc had even returned, and kept a watch going from high atop the walls. The Cray would not dare to cross the path of a roc, though one against many would ultimately be a mismatch.
Aerinas warily walked between pools of dried blood, fallen debris, and crooked bone fragments; his feelings turned toward home once more. Visions of Nimoni shuffling along the causeways and platforms alone haunted him, caused him to blink away the tears that were trying desperately to fall. The elf was strong at heart, stronger than he ever knew or thought possible; strength was fed to him by his mother when he was still a child. Her strength was evident to him as he stood wondering about his fate, and how he had acted toward her when they stood in his vault back in Mynandrias. She had tried to tell him something that he did not want to hear perhaps, but was there nonetheless. Aerinas paused and looked up into the night sky imprisoned between the high ramparts as they reached up to form the square perimeter.
Ithyllna watched him carefully, curiously, yet with a sparkle in her eye that spoke of a longing, yet unannounced. She had always been attracted to Aerinas ever since they were very young. Aerinas was too wild and longed for adventures too often to mind much, but he sensed it in her. The strife he suffered with his father kept him from pursuing it further, but Nimoni saw the flare and had secretly nurtured it along. Ithyllna's silvery hair was short and spiked, not the usual style of elf maidens in Mynandrias, but differed chiefly in design due to functionality needed for battle. Her clothes fit about her the same way, tight and snug, to keep any portion from snagging during melee. Aerinas noticed her features regularly, but kept his thoughts to himself so as not to upset his father. His mind was to be on more serious matters.
The two meandered between the rank death and decay of the courtyard. One of the giants was dead, hacked beyond recognition and left to rot. The smell was almost too much to bear. Aerinas reached into his satchel, and drew a cloth from inside. After tearing it in two equal lengths he handed one to Ithyllna, which she used to promptly cover her mouth and nose, and tied securely around the back of her head. Aerinas did the same. Ithyllna cast a smile in his direction that he caught, despite the covering that shielded her smoldering face, which no longer looked as rough as it had to Aerinas many times before.
Ithyllna was seasoned beyond the skill of even the most hardened Elf-Lord, and had perfected her craft to the sharpness of a sword. Her fighting skill was not the typical sort of the elves, which consisted mostly of archery and sword fighting. She had discovered at an early age that she had an acrobatic flair. It had shown itself when she was just a child running through the streets and across the bridges that hung between the trees of Mynandrias. She would instinctively spring up and grapple branches, dodging over and under them in a series of swinging motions, finishing off with a mid-air summersault before landing upright on a different surface than the one she started from. This astounded her siblings and peers and earned her the nickname Acrona, which loosely means “acrobat” or “tumbler” in the Krayn tongue. When she later joined the Vrünyn Guard at an earlier age than had previously been allowed (aided by Nimoni), she honed her acrobatic skills. Her renowned skill at the use of throwing knives went even further after she incorporated them into her fighting style. She could pull off a rolling, no-handed cartwheel, which
was not too hard in and of itself, but her two hands were the deadly assets. She would hurl out two daggers in a flash as her feet swung above her, which more than confused her adversaries and caught them off guard. The other members of the guard would place bets on her displays, and she would humor them greatly during parties and gatherings in the city by hacking flies in two from a considerable distance away.
Even after all these years, Aerinas looked at her as more than just a rough-edged warrior, and as they walked together in the once great Gudred, they finally spoke.
"That was some display you put on back there,” Ithyllna said shyly, breaking the icy silence that had plagued the other members of the group as they worked. She kept her voice low to avoid unwanted attention from the others, especially Tristandor.
"How do you know? You were outside.” Aerinas reacted without thinking, his voice sarcastic and a bit harsh. He looked over at Ithyllna, and quickly offered a partial smile.
"I could see the light, and heard your scream. More than that, I felt the magic pulsating from within the walls."
Aerinas looked at her again, astonished at what she claimed. “You could feel it? But how?"
"Magic sustained the Earth long ago,” Ithyllna began. “It was infused into the very fiber of every being that walked above and below. Ashinon once said that the reason that magic was fleeing Vaalüna was because it was being depleted by the evil of Hydrais. But Ashinon was mistaken about magic's hold on living things. Hydrais, however, knew all too well, and, armed with this knowledge, sought to destroy all implements of magic, items, keepsakes, and practitioners that were thought to hold the power he so greatly feared."
Ithyllna looked up at the sky and sighed. “There is another reason, too. I have not led the sheltered life that you have. I was allowed to join the Vrünyn Guard, where you were not, though I know you greatly desired it. I traveled outside of our city's borders on many occasions with them freely, where you were not permitted. So I have seen many displays of such power before, though nothing that intense. Your mother...” She broke off her sentence abruptly as Tristandor appeared suddenly before them.
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