The Awakening

by Joe Jackson

  “Max! No!” Leighandra cried out.

  Galadon slashed diagonally across the offending spirit, and the blue flame of the Sword of the North Wind burned it into little more than an echoing cry on the wind. “Get him over to Audrei and Yiilu, quickly!” the knight commanded.

  Leighandra began to help drag their friend to his wife and the druidess. There was no mistaking it now: the circle around Audrei and Yiilu was clearly much warmer than the rest of the graveyard. The chronicler glanced up, looking for any sign of Starlenia. The woman was making her way with Galadon once again, headed toward a third crypt that had one of the shadowy undead rising from it.

  “Max! Max, are you all right?” Audrei asked.

  “C-c-cold,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering a couple of times. “Must we f-f-flee?”

  “I think Galadon has things contained with that sword of your father’s,” Leighandra told him. She glanced at the paladin and rogue enacting a dance of flaming-bladed death about the third and – so far as she could see – last of the specters.

  “Look out!” Yiilu shouted.

  The women all turned to behold another specter bearing down upon them. The druidess began the call to the Earth Mother, but the shadowy being stopped on the edge of that circle of warmth. Audrei straightened out before it and met the cold black pits of its eyes. She began to say something in the luranar tongue, calm and confident, though her hackles were raised and her ears were angled back, betraying her true feelings.

  “Light,” Leighandra muttered, remembering the specter’s reaction to being touched by the flame of their swords. She reached down into her soul and called forth the song of her sorcery, and she began stringing up as many lights as she could in the area. It didn’t rival the light of day, but it did seem to make the being uncomfortable. Still, it held Audrei’s gaze, and the chronicler wasn’t sure if she should shake her friend free of any corrupting influence.

  “It seems my magic cannot hurt it, not directly,” Yiilu said.

  “Call forth the light of day,” Audrei whispered. “I will hold it here while you do so.”

  “Yes! The light hurts them. Do as Audrei said!” Leighandra encouraged.

  The specter raised its arms as if to reach for Audrei, extending its shadowy fingers toward the luranar woman, but it was kept at bay by the circle of warmth around her. Then Yiilu called out to the Earth Mother in elvish, and the area lit up as if day was breaking. The spirit screamed in pain as it was bathed in sunlight. The druidess drew forth her scimitar and took a swing at it for good measure, but that didn’t seem to have any effect. Leighandra gave a couple of deep thrusts of her saber, though whether that hurt the creature any more than the sunlight, she couldn’t say.

  The shadowy spirit at last tore free of whatever hold Audrei had upon it, and it dashed away on an ethereal wind toward the nearest crypt. That was of no use, however, as Galadon met it with the still-flaming blade of the Sword of the North Wind. The paladin and his rogue sidekick slashed, thrust, and hacked at it, and the specter let forth a screech that faded into a sigh as it evaporated on the artificial rays of the sun.

  “Max!” Audrei cried, turning and kneeling beside her husband. He was still conscious, and he stroked at her mane absently when she embraced him. His breath no longer came forth in frosty clouds, and it was steady and calm. “Are you all right? What were those creatures?”

  “Specters, wraiths… whatever people like to call them,” Galadon said, approaching. He crouched and put the pommel of the sword into Max’s hand, then went to collect his greatsword from the ground.

  “You should keep this,” Max whispered. “It recognizes you. It does not respond to my will the way it did for you or my father.”

  “Have faith in yourself,” the knight said when he returned, sliding his greatsword back into its scabbard. “You think your father and I became paladins overnight? I know I’m not that old, but I was extensively trained… you just need to give these things some time.”

  Max sat up at last and got to his feet with some help from the others.

  “You all right?” Delkantar asked.

  “I believe so. I have the urge to drink several large cups of hot tea or coffee, though,” the luranar paladin responded.

  Yiilu gestured about. “We should sweep the rest of the tombs when you have your feet back under you. If any more hide in the shadows or depths of the tombs, it might be best if we open them, despite the protests of the people, and do what needs doing.” Then she turned toward their newest friend. “What was that you did, Audrei? You seemed to hold that spirit under the power of your gaze.”

  “I’m honestly not sure,” she answered. “I was just asking my Lord to form a protective circle around us. I’m not sure why the spirit was so fixated on me like that. It was so blinded by what I was doing that it failed to see the true dangers: you and Galadon.”

  The knight and the druid exchanged glances, but then both settled their gazes back upon the luranar woman. “Runs in the family, does it?” Galadon asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “Doubting your own abilities. Whether you held it in your gaze or it was simply fixated on you, that thing recognized you as a threat, and rightly so. You and Max don’t give yourselves enough credit where it is due. Don’t be so hasty to praise the rest of us for our parts and not know when to take praise for your own.”

  Audrei blinked but then bowed her head. “Thank you, sir. But I think I wet my pants.”

  Starlenia chortled at that, but covered it up with a cough when Audrei turned her way. The luranar woman managed a wolfish grin.

  “Why don’t you keep my father’s sword for now, old friend?” Max said. “We know it responds to your call, and we can use this to devastating effect against these types of enemies. Just as you say we should be willing to take credit where it is due, so should you. If the sword begins to respond to my call, or when we get your sword repaired, you can give it back. But I would ask that you carry it for now, and wield it in memory of my father if you so choose.”

  Galadon nodded. “I will,” he said, taking the sword and its accompanying scabbard.

  Max let the older knight lead the way this time, and the group began to systematically check the other tombs for signs of disturbance or foul spirits.

  “You felt it again, didn’t you?” Leighandra asked the luranar prince when her thoughts had calmed down a bit. “That sense of evil power to the west?”

  “Yes; there was a surge right before we were attacked,” he answered. “I am unsure why I can sense it and the rest of you cannot, but our enemies seem fixated on this place.”

  “The city, not the cemetery,” Starlenia corrected. “The cemetery is just their weapon they can use across the distance. This is the city where the meeting was held, and it’s because Solaris is sort of the middle ground between all the different kingdoms. Whoever this Crimson Queen bitch is, she clearly knows this is the place to strike to disrupt resistance.” She paused for a second and looked at Audrei. “Sorry.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Saying bitch.”

  Max snorted and Audrei let out a heartwarming little laugh. “We may have lupine features, but we’re not wolves and don’t refer to ourselves that way,” the woman answered. She pointed down at Vo’rii. “You might want to apologize to her, though.”

  “Why? She is a bitch,” Yiilu offered with a mischievous smirk.

  “Oh gods, now we’ve corrupted the elf, too,” Galadon muttered.

  The shared laugh helped dispel some of the terror of what they’d just faced, and the fact that they came across no further trouble helped bolster their spirits. With the cemetery quiet and no threats coming from their enemy, they headed back to the city.

  “Let’s not tell the guards about the specters,” Delkantar said.

  “Good idea,” Galadon agreed, and he led them back to the inn.

  They shared a late snack and some hot drinks. Max insisted he was fine, and felt much better once h
e had something hot to drink to dispel the chill of the specter’s touch. Leighandra was hoping to get Audrei to stay at the table and chat with her and perhaps the other two women, but once Max bid the others goodnight, Audrei followed with him. With the opportunity to get to know their new companion snatched away, the three other women retired to their rooms.

  Starlenia took the far bed and curled up to sleep. Leighandra kept her bedside lantern turned up, her logbook, quill, and inkwell handy to chronicle the things she’d seen while they were fresh in her mind. She glanced over briefly when Starlenia muttered “Haha, bitch” and then settled back to sleep. The half-elf smirked but continued her description of Galadon taking Max’s sword and the blade bursting into blue flame.

  What a magnificent sight, she thought. I can only imagine what it looked like when he and Kalamaris stood side by side – and with two others with flaming blades. I guess I may get to see it for myself soon enough, gods willing.

  She was just getting through the narrative about the after-fight, and even made a notation about Audrei admitting to possibly wetting her pants, when she heard it. A voice was singing just down the hall, a voice so clear and pure it nearly made the chronicler jealous. Leighandra was a trained singer and performer, and though whoever was singing could use some tutelage and studies in music, they had a voice and a natural talent that couldn’t be denied. Starlenia woke and sat up, glancing at Leighandra and then the wall in the direction the voice was coming from before she made a questioning gesture.

  And then a second voice joined the first, this one deeper but no less clear or pure. It took Leighandra only seconds to realize what she was hearing, and she turned to Starlenia in shock.

  “Is that Max and Audrei?” the Okonashai woman asked.

  “It has to be,” Leighandra whispered. “But what are they singing?”

  “Something in luranish, I guess,” Starlenia shrugged. “Great Spirit, I hope they don’t keep that up all night…”

  The chronicler chuckled. The song only lasted a couple of minutes, and when she poked her head out the door, she saw that several of the inn’s other patrons were either perched on the stairs or standing in their doorways to listen.

  “I’d heard the wolf-folk could sing, but damnit if that ain’t one of the prettiest things I ever heard,” one of the men on the stairs said before he and his companions descended.

  Leighandra looked at the door to the luranars’ shared room and wondered if they knew the rest of the inn was listening to them. She smiled and watched the others retreat into their rooms, and then she did the same. She returned to her writing, waiting to see if her friends would take up another song. It was late, and she imagined most of the other patrons wouldn’t want them to continue no matter how touching it was.

  They stayed quiet, though, perhaps mindful of the voices outside their door afterward. Leighandra imagined the two curled up in bed, finally together again after well over a month and more apart. There was little mystery what they were about now that they had sung together and to each other.

  You two make beautiful music together, she thought.

  The chronicler looked down at her journal, and dipped her quill one last time. And then, she wrote, our luranar companions sent us to slumber with a song that touched even the heart of this practiced troubadour.

  Chapter XI – Fireblade

  The tips of the Dragon Mountains came into sight after only a few days out of Solaris. As if the thought of walking into the lair of an old and powerful red dragon wasn’t enough to put a knot in everyone’s stomach, the sight of the mountains made it a constant reminder. Leighandra tried not to be too pessimistic in her journal entries, but found the prospect of being incinerated dominated her thoughts when describing their trek.

  She trusted in Karinda; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that they had no reason to trust Fireblade. The dragon had the reputation of a volatile and vicious manslayer. Leighandra was wary of causing her friends any further distress, but she knew more stories than any of them. She had made passing mention of the gold wyrm Taeluriel and her rider, Asceri Moonshade; it was odd that no one had ever asked her to elaborate. True, they had far more pressing concerns at the time, but now would’ve been an opportune moment to bring it back up.

  It was just as well, since she didn’t want to. Asceri and his faithful dragon mount were both said to have met their ends fighting Fireblade. No one knew or even speculated much on the subject, but it had long been Leighandra’s belief that the dragon-riders of legend had mostly met their demise at the claws of Fireblade and her forebears. They were a plague upon the continent and the world as a whole.

  And yet, here the companions were, about to walk into her lair and ask for her help.

  The gods certainly have senses of humor, she thought, and that made her turn to Audrei.

  The luranar woman had no trouble keeping up with the rest of them, and Leighandra had to attribute it to chasing little ones around all the time. Though it had been a jest, Starlenia’s suggestion that Audrei take over the cooking duties from Delkantar was happily agreed to by both parties. Thus far, the woman had proven to be quite a cook, even with the limited supplies they carried with them. She was more than pulling her weight by Leighandra’s reckoning.

  Training Audrei to fight was another matter. She was over-mindful of hurting any of her friends, which made getting her to commit to the training difficult. She seemed to respond best to Max, which was little surprise, but was gradually beginning to work with each of the members of their party, all the better to learn numerous styles and possibilities. And best of all, on those many occasions where someone was hurt, she demonstrated an uncanny ability to massage the injuries away or use hastily-made poultices to help with healing. In this regard, she was beginning to form a bond with Yiilu, who was more than adept at finding ingredients.

  The women were able to walk behind a little while the men took point and discussed their plans for dealing with Fireblade. There had been few opportunities for the women to talk without the men, so Leighandra jumped at this one. “I understand you and Max were married by arrangement?” the chronicler prompted. “I’m interested to hear more about you standing up to his father on that matter.”

  “It was what you might call a political marriage,” Audrei confirmed with a nod. “We keep our nation tightly-bound by important marriages between the prominent clans, to help foster more friendships and keep the families united under the king. My clan, Drakkara, is one of the largest, and King Kalamaris wanted to renew the bonds between our family and his own. So he decreed that I would be married to his youngest son.”

  The luranar woman let forth a sigh through her nose. “I already had my life planned out by that point, you understand. I had… what do your people call it… a crush on my elder brother Kas’Yari, and had all these silly dreams about how we’d run off and be married and leave both of our peoples behind. Silly girl dreams, nothing more, but I clung to them as long as I could. So, when Kalamaris told me of my impending betrothal, I gave him a piece of my mind.”

  “And received a good spanking?” Starlenia chuckled.

  “Spanking? Hardly. He kicked me in the rump so powerfully that my feet left the ground,” Audrei said, but she gestured for patience at the reactions of her companions. “You must understand: I insulted our king in front of much of the tribe. Oh, Kalamaris beat my rump raw and then some. He was a good king and a righteous man, but was heavy-handed. He believed he had to rule our people by strength foremost, probably because he had taken the crown at a young age. So when some loud-mouthed young woman questioned his integrity and his decision-making in front of the entire tribe, he saw only one way to address the issue.”

  “So you obviously went through with the marriage,” Leighandra said, though in truth, she was still hung up on Audrei dreaming of eloping with a gnoll, adopted brother or not. Did the luranar truly see the gnolls as some sort of kin, then? It was a fascinating thought.

  “That came later. F
irst were the courtship rites, despite the fact that the betrothal was set. Max was still a young man at the time; he was only a little more than fourteen summers. And I didn’t like him at all. I thought he was arrogant and self-absorbed. He was rarely among others of our age, or among the tribe at all, always off doing his own thing and ignoring the people he was supposed to be learning to rule. When I was first sent to spend time with him on my own, I expected I was to prepare myself for a lifetime of disappointment and resentment.”

  Leighandra watched a contented smile play out across the woman’s face, her gaze drawn in her husband’s direction.

  “I went down to the river where he was, and found him there playing with his horse. I think he was supposed to be washing it, but that silly animal was giving as good as it got. Max was soaking wet, and every time he filled a pail with water, the horse would pick it up and dump it on his head. After a while, it became a game, and they were competing to see who could pour the most water on the other’s head. Max was smiling and laughing, the first time I had ever seen him do either, and I realized then that everything I thought I knew about him was wrong.”

  “Max is rather shy, though you might not think so to talk to him,” Audrei explained. “He is gradually becoming more open as he gets a little older and the time for him to take the crown draws nearer. But as I told you, he had a rather terse relationship with his father, and between that and the fact that he had no mother growing up, he turned out shy and introspective. I think he took to raising horses because they never wanted much from him other than friendship. When he dealt with our people, I think he felt overwhelmed with the pressing responsibilities that were sure to come.”