by Ravek Hunter
“But Master Curatei says they have a dark side as well.” Havacian leaned in closer so not to be overheard. “They exercise absolute control over their land, over who they allow to enter and where they are allowed to go without regard to rank or stature. Even Atlanteans have restrictions, and especially the Dwarfs, although the one exception seems to be the druids, probably because of their being dedicated to nature as well.”
Qel found it all exciting and was once again glad Havacian was with him. It wasn’t only because they were friends, but also because he appreciated the depth of knowledge Havacian possessed on so many subjects. He supposed that was an additional benefit of being the apprentice to the Keeper of Records for twenty years.
A group of Atlanteans and Elves sat next to them at the long table, and before long they were all chatting together over spiced wine. To Qel’s chagrin, Havacian couldn’t resist entertaining their new friends by telling them about their encounter with the Fairy earlier, to the satisfying laughter of everyone, even the Elves. By the time Qel and the others decided it was time to retire to their beds, it was well after midnight. The Dwarfs were still as raucous as when they had first arrived, and Qel wondered if they would continue all night or if they ever stopped at all.
~~~
The spring morning in the Sylvan Forest was cool and misty. Qel awoke late with the sun already well above the horizon, filtering light through the haze of earlier morning rain. Feeling rested and energized, he looked forward to the day ahead. They would be traveling through the forest on their way to Avalon. Qel’s moving about disturbed the still sleeping Havacian, and before long the two were washed and dressed and on their way downstairs for breakfast. To Qel’s delight, they were served bowls of mixed fruit and berries with a dollop of a porridge-like cream on top. It was absolutely delicious.
“Looks like we are the last ones to leave this morning,” Qel guessed by the empty common room. “Even the drunken Dwarfs have packed up and gone after the late night they must have had.”
“Well, the Dwarfs are a legend with their peculiar constitution for that sort of thing,” laughed Havacian.
Soon after, they were back on the road again in the direction of Avalon City. They passed several groups of Atlantean and Elven merchants traveling in the opposite direction toward Aquilon. Some drove carts while others used large floating disks to transport their goods. Although the Elves imported far more than they exported, they still had a fair amount of trade, and Qel knew that the Atlantean merchants were their primary agents. Fruits, nuts, berries, and sweet syrups from tree sap were the Elves’ primary exports along with Elven silk, which was one of the most sought-after and expensive textiles in the Western Kingdoms. The Elves wore it commonly and sold it very expensively. It was a mystery as to whether the silk was produced by a spider, worm, or some other creature, and if the Elves knew, they wouldn’t say. Even Master Curatei, according to Havacian, was unclear about the origin of the textile. Elven silk was valued for its light weight, ease of taking dye, and durability, not to mention that it was the most comfortable fabric of any silk anywhere. Qel’s mother owned a few pieces and raved about them whenever they were part of her ensemble. If it weren’t for her, he might possibly have lived his entire life without knowing so much about Elven silk.
Qel enjoyed observing the vibrant wildlife of feather, fin, and fur that had been a rare sight over the past twenty years he had resided in the Wizards Enclave. Of course, there he’d seen the usual rat or songbird perched nearby in the courtyards. In fact, not too long ago he saw a Roc flying over the city. Apparently, it was a very unusual occurrence for a wild Roc to fly so close to a populated area, and it caused quite a stir. At the time, he wasn’t even sure he was looking at a Roc until Havacian pointed out the much smaller size of other birds in the sky nearby.
Around midday, they came to a split in the road, with the main artery continuing over a bridge north toward Avalon City and another curving off to the east along the river. There was no indication where the road, a trail really, led, so they agreed to follow it a short distance until they found a beautiful spot to break for a bite to eat and rest their horses. They chose an area where the trail ran very close to the river, out of sight of the main road. It was a perfect circle of dry, green grass where they could enjoy the quiet except for the gentle lapping of the river on its stone-ridden banks and the music of the birds singing in the afternoon sun.
Qel was removing the bread and cheese from their packs when he heard something splash upriver from where they sat. It sounded heavy, much more substantial than a fish jumping to snatch an insect, if there were even fish of that sort in this river. Then it was followed by the sound of something large moving quickly and without regard to the noise it made through the forest. First, it came toward them, and then away from them, snapping branches as it went. No wild animal would be so careless, even Qel knew that.
“Did you hear that?” he asked Havacian nervously.
Havacian’s eyes were larger than goose eggs. “I did.”
Looking back to the river, not far from where he heard the splash, Qel saw a large leather sack bobbing in the water, carried toward them on the swift current. At first, it was nothing more than a curiosity, and then something moved inside the bag. His heart froze in his chest as he watched the movements become more frenzied in the quickly saturating fabric, and Qel realized with horror that if they didn’t do something quickly, whatever was inside would drown once the bag submerged.
“There is something alive inside the bag!” Havacian exclaimed, mirroring Qel’s thoughts. “And it’s sinking fast!”
Focusing intently, Qel began to cast a spell. Seconds later, he was levitating above the ground. Keeping part of his mind focused on maintaining the invocation, he slowly stepped off the bank and moved across the top of the water.
“Qel,” Havacian shouted.
Qel was busy trying to keep his concentration from wavering and couldn’t afford to be distracted. “Be still, Havacian.”
He would have to time his effort well to grab the bag. If he missed, he wouldn’t be able to outrun the current by chasing it. The bag bobbed closer and closer, and now he could hear the sound of desperate crying coming from inside the bag. It sounded like a child.
“Qel,” Havacian repeated.
“I’m going to try to catch it,” Qel replied. Was that an exaggerated sigh he heard from his friend? What was wrong with him?
The bag was close and moving more quickly than he expected. He tried to focus and time its movement, searching for the best place to grab it. Then it was under him, and he lunged for it, his hands slipping off the slick edge of the wet material. Damn! Now, what do I do? Thinking quickly, he turned and ran back over the water toward where his horse stood nibbling calmly at the grass as if nothing unusual was happening. Qel had only seconds to mount his horse and sprint down ahead of the sack for another try. In his head, he calculated that the bag would be long submerged before he could get ahead of it again, but in his heart, Qel knew that a child’s life was at stake and he had to do anything he could to save it.
After only a few steps, Qel realized that running while levitated was not the same as when his feet were touching the ground. In his current state, it was more like swimming, and he found his arms and legs flailing wildly in an effort to move forward quickly. His progress was agonizingly slow, and he was growing desperate. Even if he quit the levitation and dropped into the water, he would never be able to catch up to the sack by swimming, and it would take him at least as long to swim against the current to the shore near his horse. His mind racing, Qel struggled with what to do.
“Got it!” Havacian’s voice rang out. Qel looked over to where his friend was standing a little farther downriver and saw to his eternal relief that the bag was on the bank of the river in front of him. The flow of the river still held the unnatural current that had taken the bag to the shoreline.
Qel felt like an idiot. Havacian was a Water Wizard. So stunned by
his own stupidity, he lost his concentration and fell into the river just a few paces from the edge. Fortunately, he fell into the same current that had taken the bag, and seconds later he ended up nearly on top of it.
Havacian pulled the bag onto dry land and then helped Qel out of the water. “Are you OK?” he asked.
The only injury Qel had received was to his ego, but he put that aside for the moment and crawled over to where the bag was flopping around violently. “Stop!” Qel shouted at the bag. “Stop moving so we can cut you out!” Incredibly, the thing in the bag began to struggle even more desperately.
“Havacian, I’ll hold it down and you carefully, carefully, cut it out!” he yelled to his friend and then flattened himself on the bag, doing his best to restrict its rapid movements. Qel was happy it was smaller than him, but it was strong, and he felt blows to his legs and sides that could have come from a grown adult. From inside he could hear sounds of the child screaming and crying in a language that sounded vaguely familiar, but his attention was entirely on holding the child still, and he couldn’t spare the time to listen.
Finally, Havacian took hold of the crimped opening that was bound by a tightly knotted rope and cut the binding. Immediately, out popped a screaming little elf girl about the age of a human toddler. She was hysterical and attempted to run away, but Qel gripped one of her arms and whispered shushing sounds to calm her. Having no experience with children, since he was the youngest of four siblings, he had no idea what to do to quiet the child. Havacian apparently had no ideas either, as he stood wide-eyed and staring as if she were some crazed animal. Qel was almost at wit’s end when he decided to do what he thought his mother would do in this situation. He pulled the child close . . . and hugged her.
The little girl went limp in Qel’s arms. She was exhausted and sobbing. He stroked her long blonde hair and quietly sang a tune his own mother would sing to him as a child. So many memories came flooding into him, beautiful memories of his childhood he had not thought about in years. It felt natural and right to hold this small child in his arms, and he instinctively kissed her on the crown of her head. “You’re safe now.”
Chapter 10
Hellas
Beasts of Legend
Akakios was ready to leave camp as soon as there was enough light to travel over the rocky ground and through the dark, tangled forests. He knew that he must get to an elevated area on the western slope where there were fewer trees so he could see the forest below and above him better. Searching for the illusive oak grove in the vast landscape of the Othrys Mountains would take years unless he could view large expanses of it from a higher vantage point. Akakios was looking for oak, but so far what he had seen was mainly poplar and cypress. He started a slow climb up the escarpment, leading his horse behind him, to where he hoped to find a ridge. In the shadow of the trees, it was cold, and Akakios set a pace faster than he should to keep his limbs from becoming stiff as much as to cover ground quickly. He stumbled over exposed roots and loose rocks, relying on his staff to keep him upright until he finally came across a rocky clearing with a fantastic view in every direction.
“Thank Kronos,” Akakios muttered to himself. He was no longer a young man, and that climb was exhausting.
He sat to rest on an outcropping overlooking the expanse of the sloping forest below, and he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face even while the chill wind cooled his cheeks. Not having slept well the night before, he began to doze, losing his grip on his horse’s reins and allowing them to slip from his relaxed grasp. He was vaguely aware that his mount was wandering freely, but he was unconcerned that it would go far, so he remained within the comforting swaddle of half wakefulness without stirring. Akakios had reached the tree line, and the ground was mostly rough and rocky. The few clusters of grass and weeds that were scattered across the slope squeezed through cracks in the rocks for his horse to pick at, and it sometimes kicked the ground to move the stones and gain access to the tender roots. This was the only sound except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees, and he was oddly comforted by it.
Sometime later, he knew not how long, a terrifying scream ripped Akakios out of his light slumber to fully awake. Disoriented for a moment, he wondered if he imagined the sound, then the cry came again, a bestial sound not human and full of pain. He jumped to his feet and looked around wildly. Everything was as it was before he dozed off, except that his horse was not within sight. Where was his horse? His mount must have wandered away looking for the choicest sprouts among the greenish ophiolite that formed the primary characteristic of the terrain around him. He called to his mount with a distinctive whistle it would always respond to.
Nothing.
Then another terrified scream broke the serenity of the still mountains, this time sounding desperate and hopeless from somewhere not far above him. Those were not the screams of an animal with a hoof stuck in a furrow. If the screams were coming from his horse, it was in mortal danger, maybe beyond his help. A chill streak of fear raced over his spine. Akakios scrambled up the rock-strewn slope using his staff to keep from slipping and sliding on smaller stones with his deformed foot trailing in his rush. Cresting the ridge on all fours, he could see down into a shallow ravine that held a pool fed by a fresh spring surrounded by an expanse of green grass and tender foliage.
Akakios’s mind took in the beautiful landscape, although it might as well have been the hot geysers of hell, for his focus was riveted on the terrible scene unfolding before him. His horse, with the meat of its hindquarters ripped away, struggled to run with only the use of its front legs. The poor beast was leaving a bloody trail through the vibrant green grass in its panic to escape its attackers. Akakios knew immediately that it was a hopeless flight.
Flapping erratically in circles around the disabled horse were three creatures he had seen in books and heard stories about from old adventurers. These creatures, each half the size of his horse, had the wings and talons of a monstrous eagle with the head, torso, and exposed breasts of a woman. And they were terrifying. They were called the Harpyia.
Screeching at the dying horse and at one another, each dove in turn on the animal, removing chunks of its body and consuming the living flesh raw. They fought one another as much as they attacked the horse in a kind of aerial frenzy that only added to the chaos below. Nearly petrified, Akakios’s anger at what they had done to his horse compelled him to stand, and he made his way down into the ravine as fast as he could with the support of his staff while taking care not to slip on the loose rocks. By the time he got to the bottom, his horse was no longer screaming. It barely had the strength to toss its head back and forth in pain, crimson foam bubbling from its mouth as it bled out, while the Harpyia continued to eat it alive.
Akakios stood at the edge of the ravine and leaned on his staff to catch his breath. He knew there was nothing he could do for his poor mount, but he wasn’t about to allow the creatures to finish their meal in peace. Before he could decide how he would destroy them, one of the Harpyia noticed him. “Sisters!” she screeched, “We have new prey!”
The Harpyia that spoke turned to fly toward him while the other two continued to fight over the remains of the horse. Akakios, at first stunned that the creature spoke and that he could understand it, paused a second before the rage over the loss of his horse returned, and he lashed out with a fierce bolt of flame that struck the approaching Harpyia square between its breasts. The fire exploded over her, consuming her in a ball of flaming flesh and feathers. Her dying shriek was satisfying to Akakios’s ears. She fell to the ground flapping and rolling around aimlessly until her body was still.
The spectacular end to their sister got the attention of the remaining two Harpyia. Screaming in a fury, they came for him with deadly purpose and surprising speed for their size. While they were still a distance away, Akakios sent a wave of flames at the Harpyia. They easily maneuvered around the fatal fire and gathered momentum. Knowing he could only get one before he was
face to face with the other, Akakios let them get closer before he sent a bolt of flames at the one on his right. They were too close to avoid the attack; the bolt struck true, consuming the Harpyia in fire with the same results as before.
Screeching wildly, the surviving Harpyia slammed into Akakios, knocking him off his feet and onto his back, plunging its long claws deep into his chest. Feeling the weight of the Harpyia, he was briefly surprised how light she was for her size. However, it was the intense pain from her claws firmly in his chest that filled his awareness with her mighty wings buffeting his face and arms. The Harpyia was in a rage, screaming and flexing her claws, causing the wounds in his chest to bleed while inflicting excruciating pain. Akakios felt like he might pass out and knew that if he did then his pilgrimage would be at an end.
He had one chance to survive and concentrated through the pain and violence to cast the only spell he could think of. Meanwhile, the Harpyia set about furiously lifting his body, then slamming him to the ground, inflicting more pain and damage to his chest. Blackness was forming around the edges of his vision, and he knew that he was almost lost. With titanic effort, Akakios reached up and grabbed the Harpyia’s legs just above her enormous claws. His hands burst into flames, and the Harpyia’s screams changed from fury to howling pain. In an attempt to flee, the Harpyia lifted him off the ground several feet. Still, Akakios held firm. Seconds later he was falling. Just before he hit the ground, he heard the intense screams of the Harpyia diminishing into the distance, and the darkness took him completely.
~~~
It was dark when Akakios next opened his eyes. He could see the stars of the heavens clearly above him, and he was surprised. He had not expected the Underworld to have stars. Then he became aware that it was cold and his limbs were stiff. Realizing that he was not dead after all, his hands were tightly gripping what felt like rods above his chest. Looking down, he was horrified to see that he held the legs and claws of the Harpyia with its talons still deep within his chest, but that was where the Harpyia ended, as the rest of the body was no longer attached.