by TP Keane
Chapter 5
Fresh powdered snow fell from the burdened branches of countless fir trees as Aramus landed between them. The forest was thick, and the tree branches bounced gratefully upon their release. The silence of the uninhabited mountaintop was only broken by the sound of Aramus breathing heavily, and Ol?rin groaning as he made to stand from the young man's arms. Having been nearly exclusively carried across the many peaks of the eastern Saraethian Mountains, Ol?rin had all but forgotten how old his bones truly felt. The sensation of being warm was also a distant memory.
"Do you? want to tell me exactly? what we are looking for," Aramus panted.
Although Aramus was a strong man, Ol?rin could see that the weak mountain atmosphere was taking a toll upon him. There was only so high his powerful wings could fly without losing their purpose to the lack of air, and it seemed that Aramus had reached his limit.
"You know why we are here, Aramus."
"Yes? I know you think you can cure me with some stupid potion of yours, but what exactly are we looking for?" he asked, resting his hands on his knees.
"You will know it when you see it," Ol?rin replied, making to climb further upwards.
Aramus grabbed hold of Ol?rin's arm and spun him around to look into his eyes.
"For the Goddess's sake, old man, why must you be so cryptic? We have been travelling these accursed mountains for two straight days now? without so much as a decent night's sleep. Do you even know? where you're going?" he demanded.
Aramus appeared to be unable to regain his strength in the high altitude, his normally tanned face was blanched with the cold. Ol?rin found it somewhat disconcerting that he now appeared to be the stronger of the two, and had finally found a weakness in the young man. 'Perhaps the closer to the heavens we soar, the further away he gets from his father and the weaker he becomes?' But Ol?rin also knew that it didn't do to dwell on such matters. He could never use this information to harm Aramus in any event.
"We are heading to the highest peak of Naretia, to the point where the heavens meet mortal soil. In case you haven't noticed, it's not an easy place to find, and not many have travelled there. So, while I do not exactly have a map to follow, I do know that it lies within these mountains? somewhere."
Aramus released Ol?rin's arm and squinted his eyes upward, trying to see the end of their journey through the hazy air. It was the first time in this young man's life that Ol?rin had seen a hint of worry in his expression.
"We'll soon be above the highest clouds at this rate, but the peak is still a day's climb. I am guessing that we will only be met with the same barren rocks as we saw on the other mountaintops behind us. What makes you think that this place even exists?" he asked.
"I've heard of it from many legends," Ol?rin replied, digging his staff into the deep snow again and following it with determined steps. Aramus was silent for a long time.
"Are you mad?" he finally shouted. "Only a fool believes the made up tales of drunkards and cowards that try to cover up their failures with elaborate tales." Aramus paused to catch his breath again. "You have dragged us to near the point of oblivion on the well-researched and trustworthy words of a legend? Old man? I knew you were eccentric, but I had no idea you were senile too."
Ol?rin didn't bother to look at Aramus. He didn't have to. He knew that the young man's face would hold an expression of shock and anger, or at least it should have.
"The minds of mortals are limited to what we can see and hear," he said, trudging onwards. "It is true that we are great story tellers. But in the field of originality, I'm sorry to admit, we are somewhat lacking. Most stories are often retells of other, older stories, twisted and turned to hide its true origins. But when a legend appears that is entirely different, so fantastical that it could not have been dreamt up by some dreamer in a dingy scroll-laden cell, I have always come to suspect that there might be some truth to them."
"You suspect?" Aramus replied, catching up to the old man. "By your own reasoning, the more unlikely a story is to be true, the more you believe that it is? And so, you have dragged me all the way up here? on a suspicion?"
"Yes! But won't it be a wonderful adventure regardless."
Aramus snorted and Ol?rin smiled, but together they continued up the mountain. It was a disconcerting change, for Ol?rin, to see Aramus as the one to struggle. His breathing, still laboured from the thin air, made his footsteps clumsy. On occasion he stumbled over a snow-buried tree root, and Ol?rin would have to catch him before he fell. 'Now you know what it is like to be a weak human,' he thought. 'But you shall overcome your weakness in time, and my only hope is you remember it.'
The two companions climbed higher and higher, until they emerged above the clouds. Far in the distance, the sun's energy had all but been extinguished; its bright yellow colour had turned amber, burning the landscape with its hue. The savage, jagged teeth of the tall mountain ridges made to swallow the ochre ball, as it dipped below the horizon. After a time, it was completely consumed, allowing the darkness to throw its cloak over the world.
As if to spite the full moon lighting their path, the harsh winds tried to turn their tears into rime and blind them. Each slippery step was taken more carefully, and more slowly. The coldness turned into a bitter monster that tried to attack them, viciously slicing at their skin with its frosty claws. Aramus, unable to withstand its onslaught, stumbled on the sheer mountain ridges more than Ol?rin cared to think was safe. But still they climbed, until the face of the crag became precariously sheer.
The crag itself, it seemed, wasn't best pleased to see them. Like it had a mind of its own, it threw a boulder in their direction and tried to knock them off. But the tumbling rock was met with Ol?rin's glowing staff, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. From somewhere high above them, the companions heard a primordial howl, followed closely by an echo of five or six distinctly different howls.
"What was that?" Aramus asked, craning his neck to see beyond the sheer ridges above them.
Ol?rin slammed the point of his staff into his young companion's back and pushed him hard into the cliff, just as another boulder tumbled within inches of Aramus's head.
"It is not the mountain that tries to knock us off the ridge. Worgen are the guilty party here," Ol?rin replied, hugging the icy rock in turn.
"No, it can't be. Worgen don't come this far up from the forest. It's why we flew over it."
"It seems that the queen's proficiency in convincing creatures of the underworld to do her bidding, is more accomplished then I had anticipated. I suspect that the breeze is carrying our scent toward them and they know exactly where we are, even if they can't see us."
Ol?rin glanced at Aramus, but he didn't see the fear written across his young face, as he would have expected from anyone else. There was no worry, no anger, no anxiety at all at the revelation that they were being pursued by half-men, half-wolf creatures, whose only talent was for disembowelling their prey in the most painful manner. The only discomfort shown was in the paleness of his face, the blue tinge around his lips, and the shiver in his fingers as he pressed his chest against the icy mountain.
"What kind of creature does not fear his own death?" Ol?rin thought sadly. "Even those that dwell in darkness and feed on destruction, fear the end." But Ol?rin was only too aware of the kind of creature Aramus was and why death had no meaning for him. This boy, this man, that he had known since the age of eleven, might never know that kind of fear no matter how much he tried to teach him. Not, at least, until their quest was completed.
A large boulder sped past Ol?rin's ear, jolting him from his thoughts. Three more followed, but those were each met with a silvery bolt from Ol?rin's staff. The explosions sounded out with the sharp, crackle of lightning. Rock fragments and dust covered the two companions as they clung to the cliff edge. The onslaught was unrelenting as more and more boulders flew past their heads at ever increasing quantities.
"They are gathering," Ol?rin shouted above the s
ound of the explosions. "They're trying to pin us down until the whole pack is present. They won't attack until then, and we must hide before that time."
"And where exactly do you expect us to hide up here?" Aramus asked sarcastically.
Ol?rin shot him an unappreciative glance before scouring the jagged ridges above them. "Up there," he said, pointing to a cliff edge. "We shall make camp in that cave up there. It's downwind from where I believe they are waiting for us. The ice is technically water, so if I seal off the mouth of the cave the worgen should lose our scent. But we have to move quickly, before they see us, and can aim better."
"Should lose our scent?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"We could just kill them." Armaus's eyes narrowed and a hint of something deadly glinted in the amber that was illuminated by the full moon. "Between the two of us we could handle them."
"No, Aramus," Ol?rin said firmly. "I will not kill just because I can. And besides, you are in no fit state to battle a dandelion, never mind a ferocious pack of worgen. You must trust me that right now is not the time to fight, but to hide."
Aramus nodded reluctantly and, with fumbling hands along the cliff wall, he carefully followed Ol?rin along the narrow path. The trail fell sharply away on one side, to whatever fate lay beneath the clouds. Ol?rin fought hard to stay on the path whilst blasting the boulders at the same time. At one point Aramus lost his footing and slid onto his stomach, his legs dangling off the edge. His fingers dug into the frozen path to gain some kind of grip. But despite his efforts, he slowly slid toward the edge.
Ol?rin felt his heart jump into his mouth as he grabbed hold of Aramus's leather jacket and hauled him back onto the path. The two companions huffed with the effort and relief, before a falling boulder reminded them of their urgency.
Clambering inside the cave, Ol?rin pointed his staff toward the mouth and a silvery light burst from the burl. Within a matter of minutes, a thick, blue wall of ice grew across exit and crackled against the cold breeze outside. Muffled howls made their way through the thick wall. Eventually, much to Ol?rin's relief, they began to sound further and further away.
Even though it was not as warm as a tavern, Aramus and Ol?rin were both thankful to be out of the bitter breeze that had betrayed them. With numb, fumbling fingers, Ol?rin took off his hat and rummaged inside of it. Aramus collapsed against one of the icy walls, and wrapped his dark wings around his shivering body tightly. 'I remember seeing you once like that before,' Ol?rin thought. 'It was the last time I ever saw you so vulnerable too, until now. But you were only eleven then, and a much more vicious creature.'
A sharp nip at Ol?rin's finger brought him out of his thinking. Apparently the chicken living in his hat didn't appreciate the disturbance of his hand.
"Ouch, accursed fowl," he said through chattering teeth. "Now, where is that fire? No, that's a broom, and that's my collection of The Thirteen Tombs of Wizard's Decrees. Some spare underpants. Wait, here it is. No, sorry, that's not it either? you don't want to know what that is. There's some parchment, a chamber pot, OUCH, the accursed chicken again, a tankard, the vegetable patch, and? ah, yes, finally, here it is."
Ol?rin tipped his hat upwards and pulled his arm out. Hovering just above his outstretched palm was a fully built, and lit, camp fire. He let it hover for a moment, enjoying the heat that radiated from it. Plopping his hat back on his bald head, he picked up his staff and banged it once on the ground. The ice and snow under it, curled away in the pattern of a small circle to reveal the long forgotten grey mountain stone underneath. Taking care not to singe his beard, Ol?rin placed the lit fire down onto the stone.
Almost immediately, Aramus crawled toward the heat. With his wings outstretched and his hands precariously close to the flames, he let out a long, shivery sigh.
"Better?" Ol?rin asked.
"How long have we been cold, old man, and you had that fire in your hat all this time?" he asked, now mostly recovered from his breathlessness, and giving Ol?rin a pointed look.
"The magic in my hat only preserves the items I put in there as they are. As soon as I take them out I cannot stop the fire from burning, my young friend. Nor can I whip up another one at will; magic cannot produce something from nothing. Had I taken out the fire earlier, then we wouldn't have it now when we needed it most," he replied, rummaging in his hat again.
"Have you got anything else warm in there?" Aramus asked hopefully.
"Alas, if you recall, you left my cloak in The Monkey's Nuts. But I do have some eggs from the chicken, some bread, and a jug of elven firewater to warm the blood," Ol?rin replied, pulling out a large metal pan from his hat and plopping it over the fire. It landed with a resounding hiss as the cold metal met the warm flames. With little care he threw the eggs, shell and all, into the pan.
"Warm the blood?" Aramus said incredulously. "I think you mean set it on fire."
"Ah, yes, pure firewater is indeed too much for our kind. But this particular brew was made by my dear friend Tallain, the alchemist. He assures me that, while it will still singe the tough hairs off a dwarf's beard, it is perfectly safe for us to drink."
Ol?rin pulled out a small, brown bottle. It had a large red X haphazardly drawn on its syrupy green label, like it had been marked in haste. Aramus eyed the potion suspiciously.
"Is this friend of yours an elf?" he asked.
"No, no, of course not. I think we both know that elves don't compromise on much, so altering their beloved firewater is out of the question: Too high and mighty with their purity and unadulterated ways of living, and all that. No, Tallian is a fellow human living in the queen's keep, in Lothangard."
Ol?rin unscrewed the top of the bottle. A small hissing sound rang out against the icy walls of the cave, followed by a small green cloud which escaped the bottle top.
"You mean he's the queen's prisoner?"
"Yes, yes, I suppose he is. But he's also a fine alchemist, and a damn good man to know. Not at all the treacherous poisoner she made him out to be."
"Poisoner?"
"Well, even the best of us have a bad day every now and then. I suppose he didn't mean to poison her head advisor on purpose."
"You suppose?"
"In truth, the two of them never really got on, something about one of them stealing the others wife, so one can never be truly certain. Drink?" he said, offering the small bottle to Aramus, who scrunched up his nose and shook his head.
Without so much as the smallest hesitation, Ol?rin drank from the brown bottle. Almost immediately, his face burned, and he did a little hop before sitting down next to the fire. A pleasant hot tingle coursed through his veins and, as he jabbed the sizzling eggs with a wooden spoon, he was sure that the ice would melt under his bottom from the heat. Aramus watched Ol?rin warily, like he was waiting for him to die, and huddled closer to the fire.
"You really ought to learn to trust people more, Aramus," Ol?rin said, holding out the firewater to him again. "I would never lead you astray."
"It's not you I'm worried about," he replied, eyeing the bottle. "It's your friend Tallian, and the true reason the queen has him locked up, that I don't trust."
"I am alive, am I not?"
"I suppose," Aramus replied, taking the bottle and sipping it at first.
Within a matter of seconds Aramus had polished off the contents of the bottle. His face shone with a healthy warm glow, and his posture relaxed. His two large wings folded neatly behind his back again and he even almost managed a smile. But it wasn't long before his smile faded.
"Ol?rin, why do they hate me so much?" he asked quietly. "The queen really hates me, doesn't she? But she's not the only one. Why do they all want me dead?"
"I won't lie to you," Ol?rin said with a deep sigh, still poking the eggs on the pan. "I am afraid that you are simply a victim of your heritage. Although, the queen does seem to have taken a rather severe dislike to you that I cannot explain. But in large, people react to you with the most ir
rational of feelings, fear."
"You mean because of who my father is?" Aramus asked, breaking a chunk of bread off and scooping up one of the eggs with it. "But I am not my father. I've never even met him. So, why would they think I am in anyway like him?"
"Because you look like him, Aramus. And because you suffer the same affliction that saw him become the lord of the underworld, ruler of the most feared and hated creatures in existence."
"Is this the same affliction that you're trying to cure me of with your potion? Why won't you tell me about it? I have a right to know."
Ol?rin bit into the fresh eggy bread, peppered with egg shells, and mulled the contents of his mouth sluggishly. He was waiting for Aramus to get impatient, or to get angry with him for not answering. But as he had expected, Aramus was silent, and waited patiently for his answer.
The truth was that Ol?rin had thought long and hard about telling the young man about his father, about the reasons why they lived as outcasts since he was a young boy, about why his mother abandoned him, and why every creature on the surface of Naretia ran in fear at the very sight of him. But long ago, many decades before he had met Aramus, he had decided that Aramus's change must happen naturally. It couldn't be forced or influenced by the knowledge of what was expected of him. It is easy to pretend to be something you're not when your life may depend on it. But true change only happens when one is not coerced by outside factors.
Now, however, it seemed that the pinnacle time of the prophecy was drawing near, and without any evidence of change regardless of Ol?rin's precautions. 'Perhaps I have been wrong not to tell him,' Ol?rin thought. 'Perhaps the knowledge will offer him motivation?'
"Do you remember when I got you that pet Razorbeast?" Ol?rin asked.
"I do," Aramus replied, tearing a chunk of eggy bread off with his teeth. "It was purple, with more than a dozen sharp razors all over its back and head."
"Do you remember what happened to it?"
"I killed it for biting me. What has that got to do with anything?"
"That, I'm afraid Aramus, has everything to do with it." Ol?rin dropped his bread in the pan, his appetite lost at Aramus's indifference toward life. "You see, I got that pet for you to teach you how to connect with another living creature. I knew the Razorbeast would eventually bite you, they're nasty little blighters at the best of times. But I wanted you to come to love it enough that you would forgive it, regardless of how many times it bit you."
"What in Goddess Edwina's name would make you want to do that?"
"I did it in the name of our Goddess Edwina."
Aramus was silent for a moment. His slatted amber eyes studied Ol?rin in the dim light of the camp fire, and his jet black eyebrows furrowed. What Ol?rin had to say next prevented him from looking at Armaus directly, so instead, he watched the fire create shadows in between the powerful muscles of his chest. His black shirt was open just wide enough for Ol?rin to know that this boy, even though he was only seventeen years old, was more physically a man then most peers his age. Given the life he lived, he had to be.
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Aramus eventually said.
"Let me tell you a story," Ol?rin replied with a long sigh.
"I'm too old for stories, just answer me."
"This story is your answer."
With a suspicious look toward him, Aramus nodded.
"Long before creatures dwelled on the surface of Naretia, there were two gods that hung in the sky. One was Edwina, the creator and the nurturer, the other was Dantet, the passionate lover and the destructor. Together they lived in harmony, and their love filled the skies with a light so bright that it would burn the eyes of a mortal man. The two celestial bodies saw perpetual day come to pass on this world, and the soil was nothing more than dust.
"But Edwina, whose love was abundant, wasn't satisfied to live in an existence with only one other being. So she bore Dantet's children, twins, whom she named Vesta, meaning devotion, and Amor, meaning love. The two stars were born and shone more brilliantly in the sky than any other star that could be seen, and Edwina revelled in their love.
"Dantet, however, was not pleased. He grew jealous of the love Edwina showered on her children. This jealousy painted dark pictures in his mind, which bent and twisted his sense of reason until he couldn't take it anymore. One night, as his lover Edwina slept, Dantet murdered his two children in the hopes that Edwina's love would now be focused entirely upon him, and him alone.
"When the Goddess woke to find her two babies slaughtered, the skies wept for a century. She cast Dantet into a dark underworld where he would never see her light again. She took his powers from him, his fire, his ability to feel, to love, so he could never hurt her again. She took his memories, his heart, and his soul too, until there was next to nothing left of him. It is said that the hollow moon is all that remains of Dantet's physical form, only ever casting a reflection of the light it once had."
"That's a very nice story Ol?rin, but what has it got to do with me?"
"Don't interrupt! Where was I? Oh, yes. Edwina, wasn't content to let her heart fester in grief. But without Dantet's seed she could no longer become pregnant herself. So, instead, she created corporeal life on the world where her tears had moistened the once dusty ground. She named her new children's playground Naretia, and watched over us. She also gave some of us unmatchable gifts, so that we may protect ourselves better than her own two children had been able to.
"To the dwarfs she gave bravery, strength, and loyalty. These three traits have proven to be indispensable in resisting the call of Dantet and his dark creatures. It ensures that they can work beneath the ground, close to his dark world, without succumbing to his influence. We, the wizards, were given magic in the most general and powerful sense. We dabble in everything from runes to the good old fashioned abracadabra stuff. We are not born into it, however, rather the ability grows within those chosen by the hand of Edwina herself. But with such abilities comes the inevitable hunger of greed, and the desire to rule all others, grow.
"So as not to abuse our position as the protectors of this world, like Dantet had abused his, we wizards are forbidden to murder. We cannot be complicit in the murder of another either. If we do, then our powers, and the lives of the entire wizard caste, are forfeit. In the midst of battle, however, the Goddess sees reason and does not hold us responsible for the actions of heated minds, only our own.
"Additionally, the elves were given power over nature, with the stipulation that they must remain as pure as nature itself. That is the reason they do not eat meat, nor do they partake in drinking ale, smoking pipes, or any activity which could be seen as unnatural or impure. They are the balancers and, unlike wizards, can kill. But they only do so to maintain the balance of this world. They too are cursed, and should they break their creed, they are instantly turned into Dark Ones, orcs to be exact. That is how the three castes of Naretia were formed, and we have protected its people since the dawn of our time."
"I still don't?"
"I said not to interrupt. I am old, Aramus, and follow a certain train of thought. Yes, I know I ramble, but I am getting to the point, I promise. Now, where was I again? Oh yes. More than two hundred years ago, just after my apprenticeship finished, and I was enjoying the fruits of wizardom, I had a vision. It was the most powerful vision anyone had ever had and it lasted for days. The wizarding community was awash with stories of my eyes and the ancient words that escaped my lips. People even came from near and far to see me as I lay in a trance.
"The Goddess Edwina spoke to me directly during that vision. She told me of a child that would be born in the future, a child with the blood of Dantet. You see, up until then, Dantet had been content to dwell in his underworld. Without his heart he no longer had the passion he once had and could no longer desire for anything more than the darkness. Nor could he remember why he had been so obsessed with Edwina. But the guilt of murdering his two children was a more powerful magic than even the God
dess Edwina had first thought. It festered within him and created a want, a need, which he could not understand without his soul.
"In the reflection of the moon, Dantet saw the life Edwina had created on Naretia, and something stirred inside of him. He too wanted to create life, to regain something he had once lost, but could no longer remember. He tried to create it using the flesh from his corrupt body, and so the Dark One's were born. But he was not satisfied.
"One night, as Edwina had predicted, Dantet set forth a loyal minion from his darkened world and had him bring back a human woman. Without her permission, he planted his seed in her and returned her to live amongst Edwina's children. Before long she gave birth to a baby boy, a boy she instantly feared. This young boy was different to any other creature in the kingdom of Naretia, and the Goddess was fearful of the chaos she had predicted in his future. She saw that, like his father, this young boy would ensure her own children would all be slaughtered because of him.
"Regardless of her fears, however, Edwina refused to kill Dantet's child, like he had killed Vesta and Amor. That is why she chose me, a wizard forbidden to murder, to stop this prophecy. She didn't tell me when, or where, this baby would be born, so I wouldn't be tempted to prevent his birth, thus killing him by not allowing him to exist in the first place. So, for over two hundred years I have foregone the pleasantries of a normal life while I searched for this baby, following the path my Goddess has laid out for me."
"And I am the baby you speak of?" Aramus asked quietly. "I am the curse of Naretia? You found me that night when I was forced to kill those men who surrounded me. The prophecy you saw was about me, wasn't it?"
Ol?rin nodded and laid a gentle hand on Aramus's shoulder, but he pulled away.
"That's why people fear me isn't it? They think I'm going to slaughter them all."
"Not everyone is aware of the prophecy," Ol?rin replied. "It was because of fear that I kept it secret from all but the wizards. I couldn't risk anyone taking matters into their own hands."
Aramus shot the old man an impatient look and stood up, pacing the small cave.
"But they can see what I am, can't they? They think because I don't get angry that I am incapable of feeling, like my father. They think that because I am apathetic that there's something sinister about me. And you think it too, Ol?rin, don't you?" he demanded from the old wizard, pursing his lips together.
Ol?rin said nothing, he would never lie to Aramus.
"But I am human too. Maybe I appear to be indifferent because that is the way the world has taught me to be? Maybe I don't get angry because my anger has led me to do terrible things in the past, things that I regret. Maybe, I hold no faith in this world because it holds no faith in me. My mother killed herself at the sight of me, and my remaining family beat me daily to rid me of my demons. These are the memories that I keep locked inside, the reasons why I am the way I am, and not because of who my father is."
Aramus ran his hands through his thick hair and took a few deep breaths.
"If Edwina has seen me do terrible things? maybe the world would be better off without me," he whispered.
Ol?rin watched, almost dumbly, as the young man pulled out a small dagger from his black leather boot and placed it into his wrinkled hand. Aramus knelt down in front of him and wrapped his hand over both the dagger and Ol?rin's unwilling grip, pointing the knife to his throat.
"Go ahead," he said. "Kill me. Naretia would be better off, and you will be freed of your burden."
The dagger pricked Aramus's neck and a small drop of black blood ran down its blade. Ol?rin watched the young man's Adams apple bob up and down as he waited for his death. His eyes scrunched closed and a single tear rolled from the corner, trickling down his cheek. Ol?rin had never realised that Aramus was so bothered by the reasons behind people's hatred toward him. But in that moment, something in the trembling of Aramus's fingers gave Ol?rin hope that the prophecy could indeed be prevented.
"Are you scared to die?" Ol?rin asked in a whisper.
"Of course I am. What man wouldn't be?" he said, closing his eyes and waiting.