by Rex Hazelton
Following his cue, Rayns added, "Keep your sword away from me too. I wouldn't want to die in some failed experiment."
While laughter- sounding more obligatory than the kind that comes from being truly entertained- was heard, Grayce saw that a group of Fane J'Shrym were approaching. "Your cousins have arrived," she said in the way of explanation.
Gesturing with her hand, Grayce invited Deyvara to come and help seat the newcomers whose arrival initiated a night of reminiscing and sharing histories. Sadly, the evening didn't relieve the mounting pressure Jeaf was experiecning as Grayce had hoped. Instead, the Hammer Bearer ended up feeling like a man whose wife told him she was pregnant again when they already had more children than they could feed.
****
Aryl's father, Bannyr, was the last one to arrive at the Wyldestone family reunion.
Immediately upon arriving, Bannyr signaled his grandson to join him where he stood. As Jeaf rose from his seat, he thought it was odd that no one took note of him moving through the gathering as he went to meet his grandfather who waited for him just beyond the edge of the gathering, far enough from the braziers that shadows washed over both his face and body. It was odder still that Doryn, Rayns, and Boyd neglected to acknowledge Bannyr who stood like a hunchman with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Jeaf's arrival.
"I see that you have the Hammer of Power with you," Bannyr nodded toward the holstered weapon his eyes were intently focused on. "Good. Follow me. I have vital information about Vlad'War's Child that I want to share with you in private."
As they walked down Shtytl's main street, the oddness continued as doors and curtains were closed as they approached. This left Jeaf and his grandfather wrapped in shadows as they passed through the village, shadows that kept the details of his grandfather's face hidden from him. Beyond noticing that he had much of his father's physical characteristics- body build and contour of his face, mouth, nose, and forehead- Jeaf could make out little else. The shape of his hands, the color of his eyes, and the like remained a mystery to him.
At the end of the road, just before the two moved beyond Shtytl's last home, Jeaf turned to see that the street behind him was empty as a cellar long neglected. In what must have been record speed, the Wyldstone reunion had been disbanded. All the tables, chairs, and braziers had been taken away. The door to Grayce and Davyn's home was shut. Not a smidgen of light could be seen behind the tightly closed curtains.
"Where did they all go," Jeaf asked his grandfather to comment on the strange occurance.
"They were never there," was Bannyr's cryptic reply as he continued walking without turning to look at the abandoned village.
He's my father's size, Jeaf surmised as he tried to get a handle on the bizarre situation. I can't recall the color of his eyes. And look at that: Grandfather isn't wearing shoes. Until that moment, Jeaf hadn't noticed that Bannyr was barefoot, nor had he recognized the shroud that was draped over his body.
"Grandfather," Jeaf asked in a matter-of-fact way, "are you dead?"
Turning to look at Jeaf with an expression devoid of affect, Bannyr replied with a question of his own. "Are you awake?"
"Lately, I've had a hard time discerning the difference between being awake or asleep. Do you think I'm asleep now?"
"Since I really am dead, that seems likely. How else could I appear to you?"
"That means you've come to me in a dream to help me understand the mysteries surrounding the Hammer of Power."
"Yes." Bannyr's voice was followed by a subtle hissing sound. "But I doubt you'll want to hear what I have to say since I come to warn you that the Hammer of Power's magic is responsible for the nightmares you've been having. It wants to drive you insane so that it can take control of your life. Didn't your journey to the mountain top teach you this? Wasn't the Hammer of Power in control and not you? Weren't you no more than a puppet as your feared? Indeed, you are a stone in a game of Stones whose rules elude you."
"Grandfather, what would you have me do?" Confusion and fear overwhelmed Jeaf's senses. He needed Bannyr to help him find clarity.
"Give me the Hammer of Power before it imprison's your soul in a dungeon of its own making and takes possession of your body. Haven't you wondered why the hammer slips beneath your skin whenever you call upon its power?"
Bannyr extended his hand to lift Vlad'War's burden off his grandson. "Give me the Hammer of Power and your mind will be restored."
Unholstering the talisman that had been in his life for more than twenty-five winters, Jeaf was handing Vlad'War's Child to his grandfather when Doryn's words came to mind. If Bannyr knew that his grandson had become the Hammer Bearer that the prophecies he loved so much foretold would arrive, he would have been filled with pride. If he was still alive, I dare say he'd be your biggest supporter. His sword would be yours to command.
"Grandfather," Doryn's words had given Jeaf some of the clarity he was looking for, "do you wish I had never become the Hammer Bearer?"
"Having learned how willful Vlad'War's Child is, I'd have done everything in my power to keep you from picking the fire-blasted talisman up."
"What if Doryn wanted me to lay hold of the hammer?"
"I'd tell her that the Hammer of Power was giving you nightmares to undermine your mental stability."
As a new wave of confusion threatened to sweep over Jeaf as his grandfather spoke, he concluded: The magic assailing me is coming from Bannyr, nor the Hammer of Power. This isn't an ordinary dream. I'm having another nightmare that has my grandfather doing its bidding.
Seeing the Hammer of Power so tantalyzingly close, Bannyr leaned forward to take hold of the talisman before Jeaf could draw his arm back.
At the same time Bannyr's fingers touched the hammer's silver head, a luminous blue blade appeared in the darkness surrounding Jeaf and his grandfather a moment before it split the old man asunder like he was a piece of dry firewood.
As Bannyr's body fell apart, a Hag appeared where Bannyr once stood. The hand that touched the hammer's head turned out to be a black candle whose flame sent melted wax streaming onto the hammer's silver head, wax that was quickly woven into a net of hindering power that kept the talisman's magic from being activated.
The Hag's other hand held a short sword it thrust at Jeaf's mid-section. It would have struck home if the radiant blue blade hadn't returned to save Jeaf.
"Father, wake up!" J'Aryl's voice was filled with desperation. "Take my long knife and defend yourself."
Two heartbeats after the knife's handle was shoved into his hand, Jeaf's face received a stinging slap. J'Aryl didn't have time to wake his father up in stages. The sizzling sound that his blade made as it cut through the fiery fingers of Hag magic that sought to run him through gave the reason why. More than one black-robed wizard was on the scene.
Snatched out of his dour slumber as abruptly as he was, Jeaf was about as lucid as one who awoke not knowing what day it was. With Hag fire lighting up the night, he didn't have the luxury of getting his bearings before he had to act. The Hag short sword made certain of that. And with J'Aryl's blade busy severing the cords of searing hot magic that relentlessly struck at him like they were a brood of fiery vipers, Jeaf had no choice but to defend himself as best as he could given his disoriented state.
The long knife parried another of the short sword's thrusts before it looped around and cut the dark wizard's wrist, sending the blade spinning off into the night. With blood flowing from the deep gash, the Hag used the remaining strength it had in the empty hand to latch hold of the black candle that was used to hinder the Hammer of Power's magic. Holding the talisman in a two handed grip, the Hag used the restricting net that had been woven around the hammer's silver head, and the hand that held the weapon's handle, to push and pull Jeaf in a way that kept him off balance enough so that he couldn't reach the wizard with his long knife's sharp blade.
Caught in a temporary stalement, Jeaf surveyed the battlefield with eyes devoid of sleep. With his wits
continuing to return, he noted that his sleep-walking had taken him farther from Shtytl than his dream conveyed. Amazingly enough, he had travelled all the way to the lower pasture where the villagers kept the larger herds of cattle and goats whose meat sustained them.
A considerable walk from Shtytl, the canyon widened to form a long green bean-shaped pasture. Long ago, back before the grass-covered field existed, beavers had dammed up the creek at its western end where the canyon walls drew back towards each other, creating a pond that was much longer than it was wide. Afterwards, Shtytl Creek carried dirt and rocks down from the higher elevations and dumped them in the beavers’ pond. In time, the gravel-laden soil filled the pond and turned its expanse into a grass-covered field where the battle was being fought.
Undeterred by the turn of events that had taken their home from them, the industrious beavers built another dam farther down the canyon that created another bean-shaped pond. One day, this too would be transformed into a useable pasture long after the warriors, who were now engaged in fighting and were lucky enough to survive the struggle, had lived their lives.
Displaying his skill in Candle Magic, J'Aryl was busy using his free hand and a lit candle to fashion a shield made of fiery might. But this wouldn’t be enough to protect him and his father if one of the three Hag he was facing decided to flank them. Intertwined as they were with the Hammer of Power, the fourth black-robed wizard had their hands full keeping Jeaf from reaching them with his long knife.
The herds of cattle and goats that shied away from the unintended light show the exchange of magic was putting on display, scattered when dark figures swept through them on their way to join the fighting. On they came as their numbers swelled. Swords drawn, the black leathers the warriors wore made them hard to see as they ran crouched low to the ground. Movement that was not in keeping with the direction the herds ran was the only thing that gave their positions away.
If J'Aryl had not showed up when he did, the warriors would have arrived in time to help the Hag ensnare the Hammer Bearer before he was able to see through the charade that was meant to separate him from the powerful talisman he carried. Those who approached the Oakenfel men were called Shadowmen who were an especially dangerous company of assassins.
As chance would have it, Grayce caught sight of the fireworks as she was filling a bucket with Shtytl Creek's water she would later use to prepare breakfast with. Awakening Dayvn, she hurried off to see what was happening while her husband aroused the village.
Approaching the pasture where the Shtytl's herds were held, Grayce was brought up short by the battle that was raging in the grassy field. Never having been in a fight of such magnitude, Grayce took two deep breaths before she sent the candle, she had already used a Word of Power to light, spinning and charged forward. Before long, she stood beside J'Aryl with a fully developed fiery shield held in her hands. Not having mastered using two Candle Maker candles at a time, Grayce set about blocking the Hag advances. Time and again, her fiery shield intercepted the serpent-like ropes of searing magic the Hag launched at her.
Afraid the Hag would see that she didn’t have any offensive capabilities and press the attack, Grayce was relieved when she saw J'Aryl thrust his radiant blue sword into his own shield and send a shaft of power hurling toward the black-robed wizards like it was an incandescent spear thrown by a giant. This forced the Hag to reshape their ropes of condensed magic into fiery shields of their own. Since only one of the Hag could use two candles at a time, the odds were evened for the time it would take the Shadowmen to cross the ground separating them from the fight.
With the black leather-clad assassins sweeping through the pasture, it wouldn't be long before Jeaf and the two who defended him were surrounded. On top of this, archers followed the Shadowmen, nocking arrows to their bowstrings as they went along. Their job was to give the assassins cover as they dealt with the Hammer Bearer. Judge and executioners, the Shadowmen were the Sorcerer's hands reaching out into Ar Warl. Gifted with supernatural strength and speed, the assassins were peerless swordsmen who dispensed the kind of twisted judgement Ab'Don's dark magic fed on.
Frustrated by the Hag's ability to impede his movements, Jeaf was equally upset that he couldn't completely shake his drowsiness. It was like the net of black wax the Hag's candle had woven over the Hammer of Power was keeping his mental faculties from fully engaging. If I can just clear my mind, Jeaf reasoned, I could break the Hag's hold on the Hammer of Power and help J'Aryl.
Kicking his leg out and pulling at the same time, Jeaf tried to trip the Hag who laughed at the inept move as they kept the Hammer Bearer from gaining the leverage needed to complete the move.
How can this be happening to me? Jeaf was trying to make sense of things. Fire-blasted Chylgroyd's Keep, what did the Hag do to me there? They must have found cracks in the Hammer of Power's magic that they could sink their claws into.
The limitations inherent to all Candle Magic was the silver lining found on the otherwise dark cloud that hovered over Jeaf's head, for a magically embued candle's power lasted only as long as its wick did. Thus, Jeaf's situation couldn't last forever. Unless another Hag added their inhibiting wax to the mix, the net's restraining powers would weaken during the time the Hag needed to light another candle. The offending black-robed wizard's grievously wounded wrist made it unlikely that they could ignite a second candle's wick to reinforce their work.
The solice Jeaf derived from knowing that the sway his opponent held over him was limited in duration was wiped away by the appearance of a second wave of assailants: a company of Malamor warriors who had succumbed to the Spell of the White Hand. Their milky-white faces looked like the dark forest covering the canyon's lower reaches was excreting a swarm of dull moons into the erstwhile pasture.
The bloodless fiends could not be stopped by conventional means. A beheading, total mutilation, being crushed beyond repair, or burned to a crisp were the only ways to defeat the inhuman beings whose feted existence was sustained by the Sorcerer's dark magic. As such, Ab'Don was privy to the monsters’ thoughts. He could, as was now likely given the one who was being targeted, get a real time report on the Malamors’ attempts to apprehend the Hammer of Power.
A swath of ragged fog that drifted along with the white-skinned warriors was comprised of Lorn Fast Wraiths who worked in tandem with the Malamor whose blue cloaks parted as they moved to reveal the burnished bronze breastplates they wore, those that had blazing suns embossed on them. The specters clawed fingers could tear flesh; their fang-like teeth could break bone if they sank deep enough into their prey.
The overwhelming force that was sweeping toward the three Fane J'Shrym was only one of four such groups sent out to scour the Great Ral Moutains until they located the Hammer of Power's whereabouts. To do so, a company had to get close enough to the Hammer Bearer so that the Hag could sense his presence through the nightmares he was having. Since the dour magic that was responsible for Jeaf's night terrors was planted in his mind by the the dark order of wizards, they had included a way to track him with the spell they had affixed to him. The proximity of the Hag to the Hammer Bearer was a key to activating this.
More than that, any of the Hag who had a hand in embedding Ab'Don's spell into the Hammer Bearer's mind could shape a nightmare as they wanted, if they were close enough to insert their own mind into Jeaf's dreams. This is how the Hag had gotten Jeaf to come to the pasture where the trap had been set for him. They turned a dream centered on Jeaf's family into a nightmare aimed at getting him to hand over the Hammer of Power.
"Father!" Ay'Roan's welcomed shout heralded that another sword remade on Vlad'War's Anvil had joined the fight. Running beside her husband, Deyvara had a bow in hand as well as the sword that was sheathed at her side. Davyn, with a handful of Fane J'Shrym and Neflin accompanying him, was close behind.
Light cast by the incessant use of magic in the ongoing battle reflected off of the face of the Hag who was struggling to control Jeaf. Though the wiza
rd's head sat well within a deep hood's expanse, a tightly clenched set of crooked teeth could be seen as they reflected the radiant flashes. Blue eyes squinted as the Hag exerted more energy, mesmerizingly blue, blue like an ocean the Hammer Bearer could drown in.
Jeaf staggered when utter darkness enveloped him as the Hag's hypnotic eyes fixed on him in an effort to draw him into another nightmare. Shaking his head, he struggled like someone frantically swimming out of the ocean's dark depths to reach the light that he knew was found on the other side of the surface he was struggling to reach. Blinking his eyes, that frantically tried to focus on the images accompanying both the Hag and Fane J’Shrym candles' returning illumination, Jeaf tried to catch sight of his son. To his surprise, Ay'Roan foolishly charged past the Hag J'Aryl was struggling to hold at bay and went to meet the Shadowmen. Deyvara and Davyn were a reckless step behind.
Sensing the living- other than the Shadowmen and Hag- was near, the wraiths flew past the Malamor in hopes of getting to their prey before the Shadowmen slew them. They weren't scavengers after all. Ingesting their quarry's flesh before they succumbed to death gave the wraiths an opportunity to taste the life force that once animated them, a force whose magic dissipated as quickly as light in a dying man's eyes.
Eventually, half of the crazed departed, whose ethereal forms included a representation of the clothing styles they favored when they were alive, flew past those that stood ready to confront the Shadowmen and fell upon the ones the Hag were battling. Women wearing fancy dresses were as ruthless as the soldiers who were clad in vaporous armor. Merchants were no less bloodthirsty than the housewives who accompanied them. A specter that had once been a furrier, another that had been a carpenter, and a third that was a laborer in a life he no longer lived were included in the swirling mass of mists that numbered twenty wraiths in all.