Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  Looking at the steam rising from his own body as a handful of sparks continued to dissolve his body, Kaylan shrugged his scale-covered shoulders and let his ice-dragon body be turned into steam that joined with the vapor that had once been a beautifully-colored dragon.

  As the rain whispered, “Oh Kaylan,” the mists that were once ice dragons intertwined and the shape of a man and a woman were seen embracing a moment before the vapor expanded like a dying cloud and was blown away by a gust of cold air that plummeted out of the thunderhead before sweeping up into the Thrall Mountains’ heights.

  ****

  The Hammer Bearer stood in the middle of the Fane J’Shrym: four thousand that lay in heaps upon the battlefield, burned by Fires of Darkness; and four thousand that were fighting the wraith warriors yet to be dispatched, the whiteskins, the Hag, and the hunchman-human mutants who stood ready to obey the black-robed wizards’ commands despite the fear they felt towards the wraith warriors who had taken their spirits captive. Even their twisted mutant brains knew: If it happened once, it would happen again if the battlefield’s dynamics gave the wraiths the opportunity they needed to renew the harvest. Two thousand more Fane ‘Shrym were west of the Voyd River cutting down the wraith warriors who were there.

  Aryl, Elamor, Bacchanor back in human form, Mar’Gul, Bala, Dog, Ramskynd, and Vlad’War stood with Jeaf surveying the battlefield trying to figure out the Evil One’s strategy.

  “The Sorcerer’s pulling his warriors back and doing all of the fighting himself,” Ramskynd held a helmet with finally crafted antlers protruding from its sides beneath his arm. Rain was allowed to freely wash through the Elf-King’s hair as he looked intently at the fighting that lost much of its fervor as the Evil One’s forces drew back toward the Hall of Voyd.

  “Giving the Evil One a gender like humans, elves, giants, and hunchmen have serves a conversational purpose only and has little to do with the truth,” Vlad’War explained. “As far as we know, the fiend could have been hatched out of an egg like a fish or reptile; or it could have come into existence in a way our minds can’t conceive.”

  “You’ve given the monster a lot of thought,” Bacchanor noted.

  “Indeed, I have,” despite all the rain hitting Vlad’War’s head, it never seemed to get wet. The smattering of dew drops that clung to his curly, brown hair provided the only evidence that the wizard was affected by the storm at all, “ever since the Dream-Messengers started visiting me as a youth.”

  “You’ve always known this war was coming.” Bacchanor pushed his own curly, brown hair back to keep too much water from getting into his eyes.

  “Let’s say, I was forewarned.” Vlad’War looked at Elamor and Jeaf concerned about how they were taking the outcome of Kaylan and Lylah’s battle with the black dragon. “That’s why I spent my life tryng to discover magic that would enable the dead and the living, who love the light, to join arms and battle the darkness the Evil One clothes himself in. That’s why I made the Hammer of Power. As you know by now, its magic binds all the Fane J’Shrym that ever lived together, so that those who are in the Warl of the Dead can enter the Warl of the Living once a great enough sacrifice is made to create the doorway they would use.

  “That sacrifice began when Jeaf accepted the Hammer of Power. It continued when he came to Ar Warl looking for the hammer when it abandoned him. The sacrifice was made complete when the Fane J’Shrym risked their lives to follow the Hammer Bearer to this place. All that the Oakenfel’s and their friends have endured,” Vlad’War bowed his head to Elamor and the others, “is a part of that sacrifice.

  “From the way the Evil One is acting,” Vlad War added, “I think it’s figuring all of this out. That’s why the dragon is throwing Fire’s of Darkness at the Fane J’Shrym. If it can destroy us, there’ll be nothing the Warl of the Living can do to stop the wraith hordes once they’re released again.”

  “What are Fires of Darkness?” The Mar’Gul inquired.

  “From what I’ve gleaned by talking to those I’ve met in the Warl of the Dead who represent multipied generations of intelligent beings, I’ve come to believe they’re fragments of a time when darkness was all that there was, a time before the first flicker of light showed up in the deep. Somehow, someway, the Evil One has been able to gather these bits of darkness that inexplicably take on the look of radiant sparks when they enter our warl, and use them for its own purpose since that purpose is in agreement with the Fires of Darkness’ own.”

  “What purpose is that?” Ramskynd asked.

  “It wants to suck everything back to the time when darkness ruled over all. So, when it looks like the sparks are burning things up in a way that makes them appear to be winking out of existence, I think the Fires of Darkness are breaking down both the body and the spirit of those it is attacking so they can be, literally, sucked into a realm that no longer exists except in the distant past. I use the word suck, as crude as it sounds, because it reminds me of how a mosquito sticks its needle-like beak into its prey and excretes fluid that breaks tissues down into a solution that can be sucked up through its tube-like mouth.”

  “By all that is holy,” Jeaf exclaimed. “Is that what were looking at?” The Hammer Bearer swept his arm toward the Fane J’Shrym that lay in burned heaps upon the ground. “Are they doomed to be dissolved then sucked up as you suggest?”

  “Aye,” Vald’War didn’t look anymore pleased about things than Jeaf did, “if Andara and the Healers fail to keep them from decomposing any further.”

  “Mother,” Jeaf grabbed Elamor by the arm, “let’s gather your grandsons and join the Candle Makers who’re moving among the burn victims. Their swords are filled with Andara’s Healing Magic. Bacchanor, get your guitar. Aunt Pearl we need to go now. Healers are needed now as much as swords are.

  “We need to stop Alynd from using Andara’s Tears to fight the Evil One with. Every resource at our disposal must be used to save the Fane J’Shrym, and the tears are unparalleled in the restorative efficacy they dispense.”

  “Don’t hinder Mystlnor,” Ramskynd said with a measure of urgency. “Unless the Evil One is stopped, all the Healing Magic we can gather won’t keep the monster from destroying the Fane J’Shrym. Let the Elf-Man go after the dragon. If he can annihilate the beast, the Evil One will be forced to take another form that could be easier to handle.”

  “All we’re doing is playing a delay game.” Bacchanor looked frustrated over the struggle that didn’t have an end in sight. “Sooner or later, Jeaf will have to use the Hammer of Power to do something extraordinary to force the Evil One to return to the Warl of the Dead.

  “How will he do that?” Water dripped off the colorful cowl that was covering Elamor’s head, the one made to look like flames.

  “How has he done anything?” Bacchanor shook his head in a way that triggered Dog to do the same as each threw the gathering water off themselves. “By following his instincts. But as you all know, his instincts don’t stand alone: He’s as highly trained in the mystical arts as any wizard I know, including myself.

  “Raised by a mother who would become the Candle Master because of her skill in working magic and the wisdom she demonstrated in using it, trained in things supernatural and the Art of Warfare at the School of the Sword and the Song, mentored by Alynd the Elf-Man and myself, and blessed by Alegramor the Elf-Queen who is a Brotanyss like her husband, Jeaf has a vast arsenal of magical possibilities to draw from. The Powers of Intuition he inherited from his parents has increased the probability that the choices he makes will be the right ones for the unprecedented situation he’s facing. I think history has proven this.

  “Jeaf,” Bacchanor eyebrows took on a feathery aspect like they did whenever he shape-shifted into the owl form he loved to assume, “when the time comes for desperate measures to be taken, follow your instincts. Don’t second guess yourself. Magic works best when it is being wielded with confidence.”

  “Fane J’Shrym,” Vlad’War addressed Jeaf by the name
that was filled with prophetic importance, the one they both shared, “if confidence is needed as the wizard rightly said, know this: The Hammer of Power chose you because it believes in you. Peering into your mind and heart, my Child deemed you to be worthy of its trust. And I concur with its evaluation. You are indeed worthy.”

  Laughing over the vagaries of life, Vald War added. “Jeaf,” anticipating the Hammer Bearer’s misgivings, those that have cropped up since his time spent as a prisoner in Chylgroyd’s Keep, he added, “you’re not perfect. None of us are, though I think the Evil One believes it is. But you are worthy, the way the Hammer of Power has settled into your arm is the evidence I point to. That’s something I never imagined it could do. With all the magic I put into my Child, with all the powers of reasoning I instilled in it, I never dreampt it would think of doing such a wonderful thing. I say wonderful because it is clear to see that the hammer sees no difference between you and itself. In its mind, you two are one, not in the way Muriel needs to be concerned about, but in the way a person’s brain, heart, lungs, muscles, skin, and the like are one with each other. Jeaf has an organ none of the rest of us have, one filled with powerful magic that embraces the entirety of his being in such a way that he is no longer the Hammer Bearer but has become the Hammer of Power itself.

  “Imperfect, yet powerful,” Vald’War lifted his head to look on the battlefield again as he spoke, “Jeaf, you are more than anything I ever envisioned or hoped for. I do not hesitate to say: I would follow you into battle anywhere and anytime.”

  “So would I.” Aryl finally spoke. Though his words were few, they were the most impacting of all.

  Looking at the man he admired more than any he had ever met, Jeaf greeted his father’s response with a subtle smile and a nod of his head. Then he tightened his lips and joined Vlad’War in studying the battlefield for one last time.

  ****

  The water splashed off the giant, black dragon’s wings and back like rain falling on a roof made with slabs of stone as it wound its way through the storm looking for Andara. But try as it might, the Evil One couldn’t find the wizard who annoyed him with his Healing Magic. Had Andara fled from the field of battle: Unlikely. But where could he be?

  Turning his serpentine neck this way and that way, the Evil One’s bright yellow eyes took in all that it saw with a vision enhanced by the dark powers it drew on. Frustrated by its failure to locate the wizard, the black dragon decided to extend its search parameters to the other side of the Voyd River where it would dispense a dose of Fires of Darkness on the Fane J’Shrym fighting there.

  With the cretchym that were flying beside the dragon engaged in an ongoing battle with the griffin who continued to thin out their numbers as time passed, the Evil One soared past the Voyd River and over the western battlefield. Though the torrential rain continued to fall here, the bolts of lightning that were fewer in number knifed through the dark sky in a way that let the ancient entity know they weren’t being controlled here like they were on the other side of the river.

  Angry that two thousand Fane J’Shrym could decimate his wraith warrior hordes so easily, the Lord of the Darkness that Covers Half of the Warl of the Dead slapped his massive wings together and sent a shower of loathsome sparks down on the enemies’ heads. Not taking time to release a second dose of magic once the dragon failed to discover any sign of the wizard he was hunting, the massive beast turned its attention back to where the Hammer Bearer was found, thinking Andara wouldn’t stray far from his master.

  Gliding over the Voyd River, seeing the the fleet of longboats that had been damaged in the ensuing struggle, the dragon took interest in the crafts that looked like they were cut in half or missing significant portions of their hulls. The Bjork that appeared and disappeared as they moved in and out of the Field of Invisibility their longboat had entered when it drifted up against a craft cloaked in the Wisdor Stone’s magic were of special interest.

  Ah, Wisdor Stones. The Evil One’s eyes narrowed as a thought came to mind. I wonder.

  Taking the Magic of Invisibiltiy into account, the Evil One quit looking for the wizard himself and started looking for signs of his handiwork. As expected, the dragon found those signs where the Fires of Darkness had done the worst damage to the Fane J’Shrym. Seeing the burned bodies, that looked like weird mushrooms lying in a field of black mud, slowly growing in size and, in some cases, regain a modicum of their human attributes, the serpent-like creature guessed that Andara was somewhere overhead. The faint touch of amber light that could be detected once one new what to look for, helped narrow the area of probability down. Remembering the Bjork sailors that he saw walking into and out of the Fields of Invisibility emanating from the magically cloaked longboats, the dragon swooped through the rain-filled sky spewing fire as it went. When a cretchym disappeared only to reappear a moment later looking like a beetle that had been crushed underfoot as it fell along with the rain, the winged-monster sent a stream of dragon-fire hurtling at the spot where the mutant had disappeared. As expected, a sphere-shaped Field of Invisibilty appeared where the flame flamed.

  When a nearby cretchym disappeared and reappeared in worse shape than its mutant brother, the Evil One realized there was more than one who was using the Wisdor Stone’s magic to hide themselves. If there had been growling or sounds of fighting when the cretchym had been demolished, it was lost in the rolling thunder’s continuous roar.

  Guessing there were more than two, the dragon flew straight for the places where the cretchym had vanished. Massive bulk would be used to deal with a problem whose parameters had not yet been determined. Correct in its assumption, the Evil One slammed into griffin, who had Wisdor Stones fastened to their tails and manes, like it was a rampaging bull running through a herd of sheep. After a handful of jolts its huge body barely registered, the two elves seen falling through the air after being dislodged from the winged-cat they had been riding on revealed the warriors the griffin carried. The sparkling thred arrows that flew at its bright yellow eyes showed that they were archers all.

  To the dragon’s surprise, one of the elves falling through the sky was the one who had used magic to blow his body into pieces. No doubt, the troublemaker was about to use more of that magic before he was knocked off his perch. Needing his hands to conjure up the explosive power explained how the elf had been dislodged. Not trusting that the elf, who probably wasn’t a one trick pony, would die when he hit the ground, the Evil One folded his wings against his sides and plummeted after the troublemaker. One good bite would do far worse than the rain-soaked ground ever could, especially since that bite was powered by magic both dark and foreboding.

  Fortunately, a winged-cretchym, looking like a bat and a human had come together to ive birth to a child, latched onto the elf and tried to stab him with the short sword it carried, a plan that failed when the elf’s twin-blades rose to the defense. With blue light erupting from his eyes, the elf cut the cretchym into pieces before the mutant had time to finish its scream. Still, death didn’t loosen the bat-like cretchym’s hold on the elf. As a result, its mangled wings provided enough resistence to appreciably slow the elf’s descent, making it a certainty the woodland creature would be crushed between the dragon’s massive jaws that were already opening to catch the elf before he had time to hit the ground. Then, to the Evil One’s surprise, the elf vanished.

  Going as fast as it was, the dragon opened its wings up just enough to gain some ability to change directions. When a cretchym corpse suddenly appeared out of nowhere as it spun through the air, the Evil One changed its angle of descent enough to try and intercept the flight path of the griffin who had caught the elf. The dragon unfolded its wings wider just before it reached the place where it calculated the griffin would be found. Then it unfolded its wings even more as it wheeled about in the sky, trying to strike the winged-lion with its thrashing body. And sure enough, the dragon felt a jolting blow strike it on the neck. But no other contact was made when it took a few moments to fl
ail about in the air, hoping to hit the griffin and the elf it carried a second time.

  Once the Evil One recognized its chances of catching the elf were gone for the time being, since it didn’t have a clue to the direction griffin took to make good their escape, it went hunting for Andara once more, though it knew the elf, if it survived being struck by the dragon’s neck as hard as he was, would have to be dealt with sooner or later.

  The dragon sent the cretchym flying about in a chaotic way that made it difficult for the invisible griffin to avoid running into them, hoping to uncover the one the Healing Wizard was riding on. The visible griffin, who continued to chase the cretchym, unwittingly added to the confusion that led to, as far as the invisible Blood and the elves they carried were concerned, the unwanted encounters.

  Once the encounter took place that usually ended the cretchym’s life, the dragon would hurry over and use its incredible bulk as a battering ram to take out the griffin and their rider that were protecting Andara as he went about restoring the wounded Fane J’Shrym enough to extend the time they had left in the Warl of the Living.

  Frustrated that it hadn’t stopped the illusive wizard from using his Healing Magic, the Evil One decided to pit its magic against the wizard’s. Looking like a terrifyingly large butterfly moving from one flower to another in sky where the flowers had to be imagined, the dragon clapped its wings together each time it stopped and sent a shower of sparks falling on those below. Not knowing if there was a limit to how much Fires of Darkness it could conjure up at one time, the Evil One took a risk it thought was worth taking to win the war. With the indiscriminant way the Evil One dispensed its magic, many of the Hag and whiteskins that fought below had the Fires of Darkness fall on them. Unlike those the Hammer of Power’s magic kept from being immediately erased from existence, the Ar Warlers were burned up so quickly that many of those who were nearby missed their passing.