by Rex Hazelton
Seeing the anguish in Jeaf's face, Ab'Don broke out into ribald laughter that rolled over the field of battle like unrestrained thunder. "How the table has turned. We're no longer in Nyeg Warl as you've discovered."
The Sorcerer was refering to the time Jeaf had defeated him in the Battle of the Temple of the Oak Tree. "If you wanted to keep up the pretense that you really are the Hammer Bearer, you shouldn't have come to Ar Warl. Here, in this place, the magic that empowered you to keep up the ruse has been stripped from you to reveal the truth that I am the true Hammer Bearer.
With that said, Ab'Don stretched out his arm and commanded Vlad'War's Child to come to him.
To his horror, Jeaf felt the hammer lift his arm up a moment before it broke lose from his hand and flew off to its new roosting place in the Socerer's grasp.
Once the hammer had nestled into its new resting place, Ab'Don turned to look at Muriel and say, "See, My Darling, I am the true Hammer Bearer just as I said I was; and these around me are true Fane J'Shrym, not those lifeless lumps of flesh that lay at the imposter's feet. If you are the Hammer Bearer's wife as you’ve told me, then logic says that I am your spouse, not this sniveling creature that crouches on top of that rock. So take my hand, and let us bring the Age of Parm Warl to life as prophecy said the Fane J'Shrym would do."
"You call me Darling," Muriel replied with a beatific smile on her face, "and right you are, for I accept your affections willingly and call you Darling too. But before I take your hand, there is work I must do."
As her smile turned to a grimace, Muriel took hold of the slender, iron talisman that stuck out of her chest and withdrew the branch that she held like it was a weapon once it was removed. Covered in blood, Muriel lifted Crooked Finger and pointed it in judgement of Jeaf’s failings. "You’re no longer my husband and should never have been. I divorce you and declare you to be a deceiver who took advantage of me when I was but a child."
Nearly collapsing beneath the weight of Muriel's rejection, Jeaf looked at Travyn, Kaylan, J'Aryl and Ay'Roan who stood dumbfounded before him and shouted his question, "What about our sons?"
Blood flew off the slender, iron branch as Muriel turned the talisman's point on the four young men. "They're you sons, not mine. All were conceived in a bed of lies you built with your own hands." Then using Crooked Finger to point at Ar Warl's heaving throngs, she shouted, "You are my children, not the fire-blasted boys who lick their father's feet like the dogs they are.”
As a deafening roar of approval rose from the Ar Warlers, Jeaf shouted, "NO! NO! NO! NO! This is a nightmare. It can't be happening. Someone wake me up. Please, someone wake me up."
Turning to see Ab'Don embrace Muriel and bestow a tender kiss on her willing lips, Jeaf heard an insistent voice in his ear. "Father, wake up!"
Looking at his sons, who stood slumped shouldered and defeated, he saw that none of them had spoken, though he would've sworn it was J'Aryl's voice he had heard.
"Father, wake up!" The voice was heard again. This time the rock beneath him shook as the words were spoken.
"Wake up before you hurt yourself." This time all of Ar Warl shook along with the stone he stood on a moment before it was consumed by utter dark.
Hearing snapping fingers somewhere in front of him, Jeaf labored to focus his eyes on the sound. At first, shadowy fingers were seen. J'Aryl's face followed. Then the trees that stood behind him appeared. All covered in night.
Reaching out to touch J'Aryl on the shoulder to make certain he was real, Jeaf said, "I was sleep walking again, wasn't I?"
"Yes," J'Aryl said as a modicum of relief gained purchase in his voice. "But if you had taken a step off of the rock you're standing on, you would have fallen into the chasm below."
Shaking his head, as he allowed J'Aryl to turn him away from the swath of darkness that sat at his feet waiting to catch him when he fell, Jeaf thanked his son for saving him. When he looked back at the gaping darknesses he had been facing, he thanked him again.
****
Shtytl, the first Brie'Shen village to embrace its Fane J'Shrym roots, was nestled in one of the many canyons found in the Great Ral Mountains' rocky heights. If one could see through the ubiguitous mists that lay across the mountain tops, the quickly growing village would look like a root system winding its way through the system of gorges that sprouted out of the main canyon. Twenty-five winters before, only a handful of dwellings made out of stacked stones were found there. That was before Ab'Don sent his armies to raze the Warl of the Brie'Shen that once spread across the Black Mountains' eastern reaches in retaliation for them giving Jeaf Oakenfel, the Nyeg Warler who falsely claimed he was a Fane J'Shrym and the Hammer Bearer that prophecy said would usher in the Age of Parm Warl, free passage through their territories.
Fleeing for their lives, the Brie'Shen- who the Sorcerer had entertained suspicions that they had ties to the Fane J'Shrym of antiquity- scattered like bugs fleeing from the boot heel that was descending on them. This began a search for hiding places in the Ar Warl's remote southern and easternmost fringes where the Black Mountain and Great Ral Mountain ranges were found. Shtytl Canyon was one such place. Shrouded in mists, tucked deep in the mountain's rocky folds, with a ready water source on hand, the few rough dwellings found in Shtytl Canyon were quickly replicated and a village came into existence.
When the Oakenfel brothers arrived, seeking out those who would help them attack Chylgroyd's Keep where their father was being held a prisoner, Shtytl changed further. It was here that the Brie'Shen first cast off the name they had hidden behind for so long to embrace the one their forefathers were known by- Fane J'Shrym.
Ay'Roan Oakenfel and Aeroth Wyldwise's now famous duel provided the catalyst for the change that included the later being given a new name, Vlad'Aeroth, that honored the renowned Fane J'Shrym’s wizard who had made the Hammer of Power that had recently returned to the Warl of Man.
With the raid on Chylgroyd's Keep being the success it was, and with Jeaf Oakenfel and the Hammer of Power coming to Shtytl were Vlad'Aeroth lived, the village became a focal point of a rebellion that was building to help the approaching Nyeg Warler armies fight the Sorcerer they all feared.
As such, Shtytl's numbers swelled like a stream fed fresh rain water from a springtime storm. The same could be said about at least a dozen other nearby villages that were hidden in the Great Ral Mountains. With the number of those that were embracing their identity as Fane J'Shrym swelling by the day as the news of Vlad-Aeroth's conversion spred, the outlawed people began leaving their hiding places in the Black Mountains' heights and the sanctuaries they found on Sky Master's hulking slopes and began migrating to the place where they were told the Hammer of Power could be found.
****
With night nearly spent as the two men entered Shtytl, J'Aryl listened to his father rehearse the nightmare he had while he was sleepwalking for two reasons: one, he wanted to understand the unrelenting torments his father was experiencing since his escape from captivity where the Hag mercilessly probed his tortured mind to try and uncover the secret of accessing the Hammer of Power's magic; and two, the exercise helped Jeaf recapture his wits. Seeing a window filled with the glow from a fire that had been built using the previous evening's embers, J'Aryl led his father to the home of Ay'Roan's in-laws.
Getting up before sunrise was a habit Grayce had developed as one of three daughters born to an industrious woman who had passed her ways on to her children. Counting on her to be awake, J'Aryl led his father to the door that Davyn had affixed to the house he had built by stacking flat rocks on top of one another to make the walls. The roof was constructed with thin plates of slate the villagers found were easy to calve off of the larger stones. These were carefully arranged on top of a lattice work of sturdy branches that were anchored to the top of the stone walls. With the back wall being taller than the front, the roof gained its pitch without having to have the branches arranged with a peak at its center.
"Grayce," J'Aryl thanke
d Deyvara's mother for welcoming him and Jeaf into her home, "my father and I wouldn't know what we'd do without you."
"Come on in." Grayce ushered the two men into the simple dwelling with one hand on Jeaf's back to help steady him. "It's not like your strangers. Take a seat and while I get you a steaming cup brown herb tea and a hot bisquit I just took off of the fire."
Grayce wasn't reluctant about listening to Jeaf as he finished telling J'Aryl the details of his nightmare. After all, this wasn't the first time the two men had asked her and Davyn to help chase away the night terrors. And each time they did, Jeaf's return to the real warl was hastened by their company. J'Aryl thought that this was because Grayce reminded Jeaf of his own mother Elamor with the common-sense approach she took to life and with her love for herb lore that included an understanding of the rudimentaries of the way magic worked.
As it turned out, not only was Grayce able to wield a Candle Maker's talisman with a respectable amount of proficiency, she became skilled at making the candle's the newly-recruited apprentices used to practice the Magical Arts their forefathers once knew, but had been taken from them by the Sorcerer's coordinated efforts to control all supernatural activity in the realm he ruled over. Because of the air of stability she exuded, many viewed Grayce as being the mother of the informal resurrection of the Order of the Candle Makers in Ar Warl, a position her friendship with the Hammer Bearer added weight to. It was informal because there was no official guiding principles to what they were doing, though Jeaf tried to explain the way Nyeg Warl’s order of benevolent wizards was structured to Grayce and other respected people who wrote down all he told them.
With war bearing down on them, expediency placed a premium on learning how to use the Warl's Magic to fight. Because of this, the Healing Arts had been relegated to a supporting role that was aimed at getting the wounded back on their feet to rejoin the fight. There would be time to implement a formalized structure for the Candle Maker neophytes to order their lives by once Ab'Don was dethroned. But to think that far ahead was foolish. The Sorcerer was no ordinary sovereign. The dark magic he wielded was unparalleled in its scope and magnitude. To defeat him would take a miracle and right now that miracle was struggling to keep his mind intact.
Placing hot food and drink on the table in front of the Oakenfel men, Grayce remarked, "Your nightmares have a reocurring theme that attacks the confidence you have in the Hammer of Power and those you love. They keep you from the sleep you need to regain your vigor and the clarity of mind you’ll need to act quickly and decisively once the war begins. Jeaf, you must use your intellect to fight off the spell the Hag has rooted in your soul. You’re not helpless. Your strength is not as compromised as you think. You can rise above the quagmire the Hag's magic is trying to drown you end. I believe this, and so must you."
"Five winters, Grayce," Jeaf sounded as weary as she said he was as he quietly replied. "I was baptised in the foulest filth you can imagine for five long winters. Hundreds of people I couldn’t help were tortured and killed in front of me. Men, women, and children alike were abused in the most horrible ways. All the while, the dark wizards mocked me for claiming to be the Hammer Bearer. And their taunts still linger, making me fear that the Hammer of Power's magic will not heed my call when the critical time comes, just like I failed to summon its might during the interminable time I was help captive."
"Shake yourself man, the Hammer of Power heeded your call in the depths of Chylgroyed's Keep once your sons set you free." Grayce wasn't going to let Jeaf wallow in the self-pity that the Hag magic intended to mire him in. Then pointing at the hammer Jeaf holstered at his side when J'Aryl gave it to him once he had been aroused from sleepwalking, she said, "If Vlad'War's Child heard you in that place of sorrow, it’ll hear you on the field of battle when the Fane J'Shrym stand by your side."
"You say that Chylgroyd's Keep is a place of sorrow." Jeaf continued to speak with a voice filled with resignation. "And right you are. But that’s not the only place where sorrow can be found. Knowing Kaylan is imprisoned as I once was, fills my soul with grief. I can't stop thinking about the things the Sorcerer could be doing to him. When I do, the memories of my own captivity overwhelms me. Even now they threaten to break down the defenses that I’ve put up to keep them from sweeping over my mind and soul."
"Jeaf Oakenfel, Wyldestone, Fane J'Shrym, Brosantaney, Willow King, and Hammer Bearer," Grayce used the litany of Jeaf's titles to slap him across the face, "shake yourself. What good will come from being despondent: Will it save Kaylan or sharpen you mind and strengthen your muscles?
"Fight it Jeaf. And if you can't fight it alone, let me and your sons fight it with you, for we believe in you, even if you doubt yourself. When the time comes to fight, the Hammer of Power' magic will not fail you. It never has. Don't let bad memories overshadow the good ones. Remember your victory over Schmar, how you bested Koyer in your duel with him, and the day you defeated Ab'Don in the Temple of the Oak Tree where you saved your wife when Crooked Finger pierced her heart. And you’ll do the same for Kaylan if you shake yourself and get ready to fight.
"And as for the five winters you spent in captivity. Consider the more than three hundred winters the Fane J'Shrym have spent trying to escape Ab'Don's attempts to drive us into extinction. Five intense winters compared to the weight of three hundred that you forefathers had to bear. Who's to say which is worse? Is the sword's thrust worse than being slowly suffocated? It would be foolish to say. The point is: You're not unique. We all have mountians to climb. Your's might be taller, but your resources are greater. So, shake yourself and start climbing like the rest of us have had to."
"Father," Deyvara's voice came like a refreshing breeze as she entered the dwelling. "Bad dreams again?"
"Good morning son." Jeaf greeted Ay'Roan first before he answered his daughter-in-law's question. "Aye, Daughter, a good night's sleep eludes me."
Laughing as he took the hand Deyvara extended to him, it was obvious he liked his daughter-in-law as much as he did her parents, even more so, Ay'Roan and J'Aryl would say, an observation that eased their minds as much as it lightened their father's heart.
"Have you brought your sword with you?" Jeaf smiled when he saw the sheath Deyvara had strapped around her wasit and the blade that lay within.
"Aye, Father. I plan to beat the fire-blasted nightmares out of your head." The sprinkling of golden freckles that lay below her eyes and across the top half of her nose, like they were bits of exotic make-up she had applied to her face, rose with the smile she gave her father-in-law.
"You don't need a sword to do that, just hearing your voice has done that."
"And what of mine?" Grayce chided Jeaf. "Are you burdened by its sound?"
"Not at all," Jeaf admitted. "As always, your wisdom has swept away the dirty dishes from the table top that now receives the course your daughter offers me. A good stretch of the muscles is a dish I'll not turn away."
Returning from emptying the night pan, Davyn entered the room behind his daughter and son-in-law and said, "If you're not careful, Grayce will give your muscles a good stretch by having you clean the table that sits before, since you said she cleaned the one that rests in your mind."
The vitality of a family was a joy that Jeaf had learned to savor as a boy. He cherished the life he had while he was growing up with his parents- Aryl and Elamor Oakenfel. His marriage to Muriel was a transcendent experience that was magnified by the birth of their sons. Laughing and loving each other was the greatest magic he had ever known. And now he was with an extended family that Ay'Roan and Deyvara's marriage had forged.
Quickly inculcating the family his son had married into with his own, Jeaf considered Davyn and Grayce to be the siblings he never had. As large as Davyn was, with the unruly read hair that covered his head, it wasn't hard to consider him to be an older brother. Grayce- matching his mother's height and demeanor, though her hair was redish-brown and not black- easily fit the role of a sister.
; After a time of relaxed conversation, all went out into the street where Deyvara and Jeaf warmed up by methodically working through a few basic fighting forms. Ay'Roan did the same with Davyn before J'Aryl and Grayce joined them.
With Shtytl situated in a narrow canyon, the roads were the only open places wide enough to practicing both fighting and the working of magic. The sun, still hidden behind the mountain peaks that rose east of the village, made its presence known by filling the mists, covering the sky above the canyon, with pale gray light that filtered down upon those busy working on their fighting skills. Soon more villagers stepped outside their homes to join the activity. In time, the streets were filled with men and women intent on getting ready for a war they knew none could avoid.
As tall as Deyvara was, sparring with her reminded Jeaf of the times he and Muriel worked on their swordplay together. Having been raised by a Master Swordsman, Jeaf was in the habit of practicing with his sword whenever he could.
"Muriel will be pleased that our son chose you to be his wife," Jeaf said as he settled into the rhythm he taught the Fane J'Shrym to use when working through the basic fighting forms.
"Father, you do know his choice was forced on him?" Though Ay'Roan never did or said anything that made her think he resented being compelled to accept an arranged marriage, Deyvara was still self-conscious over being the one used to prove that the Oakenfel family was truly committed to the people their patriarch had been born to but abandoned when Aryl was a young man. Being a political tool to forge an alliance between the Hammer Bearer and the Fane J'Shrym was something she had never envisioned for herself. Nor did she think Ay'Roan relished the part he was forced to play.
"Daughter, I see the way he looks at you," Jeaf replied as he used his sword to intercept his daughter-in-law’s arching blade. "Ay'Roan's as far away from being unhappy with his marriage as he possibly can be. I think you have so captured his heart that he has a hard time focusing on what he needs to do to prepare the people for battle."