by Ravek Hunter
He let his mind relax and concentrated his attention wholly on the task at hand, allowing his senses to reach out and feel the energy all around him. Then he raised his staff and spoke the charm that would protect those within the ring of dancing Trolls, weaving a complicated web of magical strands that would serve as their shield. Just before he completed the first spell, he held it fast and began the charm that he would cast next. Again, he wove an even more complicated network of magic over the Trolls and linked it to the casting of the first. Once he released them, there would be no going back, and neither could be reversed.
He opened his eyes to survey the scene one last time. Everything was set. Myrllin could see the glowing threads of the spells he wove around them, invisible to all but him. It was so complex, so fragile, that if he made even the smallest miscalculation . . . a misstep that would kill them all.
He would have liked a sign from Wodanaz, but his brother’s head was slumped down on his chest where he stood, and it was all he could do to keep playing the rapidly deteriorating melody on his golden flute.
It had to be now.
Time stood still for a fraction of a second when Myrllin released the power of the spells upon the field before him, and he watched as the shield slowly took hold with a final weave just as . . . There was movement from Wodanaz. Was that a stumble?
Before he could see clearly, the energy of the second spell crashed down upon the Trolls. It exploded with an intensity that instantly dried the wet soil and threw up a vast cloud of dust that rushed away from where it landed with such concussive force that it sent Myrllin tumbling to the ground, pummeled by hot fragments of the earth.
He lay there until the heavy dust settled and it began to clear except for the lingering haze in the darkness all around him. Myrllin still had his night vision and quickly searched the vicinity where he had last seen his brother. Thirty-eight stone monoliths circled the mound where Wodanaz lay, the golden flute fallen by his side. Behind him rose two more monoliths, the innkeeper and his wife, who lost the protection of the shield when Wodanaz stumbled forward. Myrllin felt sadness for the pair and knew that Wodanaz would mourn them as well.
“You have not held to the bargain, Mer-lin.” A thick, rumbling voice spoke from behind.
Myrllin turned to see the Troll he met earlier standing over him. “They are not dead, Troll.” He gestured to the monoliths. “They are alive within the stone and will remain that way forever. Immortals they are!”
“You have used trickery in your dealings with me, Mer-lin, and now I will keep the promise I made to you!”
The Troll rushed forward.
Myrllin was not sure what he had left to defend himself and hastily put together a fire charm. Once within arm’s reach, the Troll grabbed his leg, and Myrllin knew he was out of time. Then there was an unexpected rush of air, and a massive jaw clamped on to the upper half of the Troll, lifting him into the air.
Dergo.
Myrllin couldn’t believe his eyes. The Dragon bit down hard, splitting the Troll in two, sending its lower half flying through the air while he devoured the upper parts.
Struggling to stand, Myrllin shook his head. “Foul beast,” he whispered to the remains of the Troll strewn all around him, “I was trying to spare you.”
The Dragon continued to pick at the parts of the Troll left behind on the ground. “Couldn’t find any mammoths nearby,” he said between mouthfuls.
Myrllin almost laughed, but then he heard a noise behind him and turned to find Wodanaz struggling to stand. With no hesitation, he ran over to see to his brother’s needs. To Myrllin’s relief and amazement, Wodanaz was exhausted but unharmed.
Together, they stood and surveyed what they had done. Then Myrllin turned to his brother. “I didn’t know you could play the flute.”
Before Wodanaz could reply, there was a startled roar from Dergo, and Myrllin turned to see him ejecting partially shredded flesh from its huge maw. On the ground below, where most of the Troll’s remains were gathered, rose a shadowy orb of vile blackness darker than the blackest part of the sky. It hovered there for a brief moment, stretching at its edges as if fighting its own physical confines.
Dergo cautiously stepped back and away from it, clearly uncertain and maybe even a little afraid. Myrllin could feel the bone-chilling fear that the orb seemed to exude from fifty paces farther away. Then with an ear-piercing shriek and an audible pop at the end, the thing was gone.
“Was that what I think it was?” Wodanaz asked in a hoarse whisper.
“It was,” confirmed Myrllin. “The Demons are loose again.”
Chapter 17
Ἀτλαντίς
New Friends
Qel stood in front of the Avalon Tower with Havacian. His friend was right—the Towers were not always actual towers. Depending on the city where one was located, it would still conform to the standard architecture of that city so as not to stand out. Here in Avalon City, the Tower was a massive tree that supported a significant complex of natural dwellings that were interconnected and extended into the farthest reaches of its highest branches. Had he guessed at the magnificence of the Tower, he would have elected to stay here rather than the inn, and it wouldn’t have taken any convincing to get Havacian to agree, based on the look of admiration on his face as he stood to stare up and up.
Qel stepped through the main entrance, Havacian a step behind, and was immediately greeted by a young clerk. “May I have your names please?”
“I am Qellel, and this is Havaciante from the Enclave in Atlantis.”
The clerk quickly recorded their names on a ledger held steadily in his left hand. “Will you be staying? I can direct you to the house administrator if you are.” His response was formal and very polite.
“No,” said Qel, “we would like to go to the lounge. we already have accommodations elsewhere.”
“Of course.” The clerk showed no surprise or any emotion otherwise. If nothing else, he was very professional. “The lower lounge is through the hall behind me and on the right, and the upper lounge can be reached via the stairway at the end of the same hall or the lift disc next to it.”
Qel was confused. “Lift disc?”
“Yes,” the clerk answered coolly. This was obviously not the first time he addressed this question. “The lift disc will take you quickly and directly to the upper lounge without the exertion of climbing a little over two thousand steps.”
Qel looked at Havacian. “The lift disc, then.”
“Very good, it’s located at the end of the hall behind me,” he reminded them and then moved to the next guest, who walked in a moment before.
Qel was eager to see this lift disc. They must exist in the City of Atlantis, probably in the palace and maybe even in the parts of the Wizards Enclave that initiates were prohibited from venturing into. Qel may have been unfamiliar with the disks, but he could guess their purpose. They followed the instructions of the initiate, walking through the naturally formed tunnel of vine and branch studded with light globes along the way.
“This is incredible,” Havacian muttered to himself.
Qel couldn’t agree more, and this was only a hallway. When they reached the end, there was the stairway situated on the left side of an open landing. It spiraled around the outside of the colossal trunk of the tree and went so high it became lost in the cluster of branches far above them. But it was the strange contraption on their right that held their attention. The base of it was apparently a disc. It glowed and hovered just like every disc he had ever seen in Atlantis. What was strange about it, aside from the fact that ten men could have easily stood upon it with room to spare, was that it was enclosed in a kind of cage. Like the cage his master would keep the occasional songbird. Branches surrounded the disc from top to bottom with enough space in between to extend an arm or leg if one chose to. There was a kind of door, also made of branches, which swung freely, as if inviting them to enter. Qel hesitated. The disc floated there attached to two thick branche
s, one on each side of it. The branches were smooth and sprang straight up from the ground where they stood to somewhere deep into the canopy above. Beside it, there was a vacant space and two additional branches marking the spot where another lift disc must rest when not in use. It was a thing of wonder, a thing of magnificent magic, and it scared Qel half to death.
“Do you want to take the stairs?” Havacian spoke nervously and uncertainly, as if he just assumed Qel would agree. Qel couldn’t agree. They had to get on this wondrous monstrosity and experience the terrifying adventure of it.
“No,” Qel replied. “We’re going to take the lift disc.”
“OK,” Havacian agreed. “That’s what I thought we would do anyway.”
Neither of them made a move toward it. They just stood and stared and considered their courage.
“Going up?” The gravelly voice that came from behind shocked Qel nearly to his core. He caught an audible yip from Havacian and knew his friend had not heard anyone approach either.
The man came around in front of them after neither of them responded. “Are you boys OK? If you’re going up, get on, or you’ll have to wait for the next.”
He was a human of middle years, with long black hair to match his equally long beard and mustaches. His gray robes were layered and long, cinched at the waist by a thick chain of gold, and he held a staff in one hand. “C’mon, let’s go. The best wine is in the upper lounge—Mekali, I believe—and I intend to have a few cups before the night is done.”
Qel struggled to speak, although the human’s smile was comforting, and his eyes were inviting and as blue as the Primal Sea. They were beautiful, and they held undeniable power.
Qel finally found his voice. “Yes, yes, we are going to the upper lounge. Havacian, are you ready? Havacian?”
Havacian stood rooted as sure as the great tree they were about to ascend. Qel reached out and took hold of his friend’s sleeve, and to his relief, Havacian moved forward until they were both standing on the lift disc with the friendly human. The man stepped forward and closed the door, prompting the disc to hum beneath them.
“Take us up!” The man was looking at Qel when he said it. Qel felt panic rising. He had no idea what to do and considered just getting off he was so embarrassed.
“You’ve never been on a lift disc before, have you boy?” There was no mocking in the man’s tone, just a statement of fact.
“No, sir,” Qel managed to reply.
“You just have to will it to ascend under your own power. It will go as slow or fast as you like.” The human was smiling warmly at him. “Give it a try.”
Qel heard the words the man spoke, but he wasn’t sure if he comprehended what it was he was supposed to do. Quickly recovering himself, he closed his eyes and visualized the lift ascending. There was a jolt and the rush of acceleration, and then he felt the sensation of weightlessness. Havacian screamed in terror. Qel’s eyes shot open, and suddenly everything stopped. He felt himself using his power but in a very controlled manner. To his shock, he realized that the human was in control of the flow of his magic and tempered its surge, regulated it so the lift ascended slowly and smoothly. How is this possible? Even my master has never taken control of my mind and magic the way this man does. It made him feel helpless, but at the same time, he was learning. The man was teaching him how to control the ebb and flow of the magic that surged through him.
“We’ve got it,” the man said with assurance. He showed no effort at all from where he stood casually on the other side of the cage. Qel looked beyond the thick branches and could see the lights from the city far below. There was the market, the palace, their inn. He felt light-headed from the height and clenched his teeth to keep a scream to rival the one released by Havacian from being ripped from his throat.
“Ah, a fear of heights,” the man commented. How does he know? “I’ll fix that.”
Seconds later, Qel felt normal again. The fear and anxiety were gone, and the lift disc was still ascending under his power. Well, the man’s control of his power through him. And so it went until they were into the canopy of the trees and the city was only a twinkle of lights below. Then the lift disc abruptly stopped.
Reaching forward, the man opened the door of the cage. “Here we are,” he said cheerfully.
Qel stumbled forward, dragging Havacian behind him. It was late afternoon and all around them, Elves, Atlanteans, and Dwarfs sat in comfortable chairs drinking or ate a meal at one of the many long tables. Servers wove in and out of the crowd serving cups of wine, ale, and mead throughout the room. Except that it wasn’t a room at all. It was more like an immense balcony or landing. Looking beyond the chest-high wall of entangled branches that surrounded the open space, Qel could see the clear sky to the horizon in every direction. They were at the very top of the tree, and below the canopy of the forest stretched out before them.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the man said quietly beside him. “As many times as you come up here in your lifetime, and it will be many, I assure you, the view will never be less astounding.”
Qel was nearly in tears at the sight before him. This must be the view Pontus enjoyed every day looking down on them. Someone put a cup in his hand, and he took a sip. It was Mekali wine, from his home far to the south. He looked over to see Havacian holding a cup and staring into the vast expanse with as much ardor as he was.
“Join me for a few more, boys,” the man said jovially. “The more you drink, the more philosophical you will become in a place like this! But first, tell me your names.”
Qel pulled himself back into reality. “My name is Qel, and this is Havacian.” He gestured to his friend, who was finally turning from the impressive scenery to join the conversation. “May we have the pleasure of your acquaintance?”
“Why certainly,” the man replied with a broad smile. “The name is Myrllin, at your service.”
Qel was distracted by two men, wearing earth-brown robes decorated with feathers and beads, who strode quickly by him toward the low wall he had turned from to address the human, Myrllin. Their hoods were up, so he couldn’t tell if they were Elves or humans, but it hardly mattered, for not a pace from where Qel stood the pair jumped up on top of the wall and casually stepped off the other side.
This time, Qel could not suppress his scream, and neither could Havacian. Instantly, they were both at the wall looking over to see the fate of the two men. There was no sight of them and no ledge below that they could have landed on. The only life he could see were two eagles that flew away from them side by side.
Then the realization of what happened hit him. “They were Druids,” Qel told Havacian. “They walked off the edge and transformed into those eagles over there.” He pointed into the growing distance where they flew.
“Thank Pontus,” Havacian exhaled.
The room behind them was oddly silent, and when Qel turned to see what was the matter, every soul was staring at them. Their urgent screams apparently captured the attention of the entire room. He was never so embarrassed in his life.
Myrllin walked to stand between him and Havacian, and with an explosive laugh, patted them both on the back. The room erupted in laughter with him, and the sounds of music and casual chatter resumed. Myrllin had saved them from an awkward situation again.
He smiled at them slyly and steered them toward a long table with a few open spaces. “Let’s go liberate a few more glasses of that fine Mekali wine from their barrels, shall we?”
~~~
Qel awoke with a slight headache and a horrid sense of dread. What had they done? He recalled that they drank Mekali wine throughout the night with their new human friend. What was his name? Myrllin? Yes, that was it. The man was quite the social entertainer with his stories and witty humor. Qel and Havacian enjoyed his company enormously, and the wine kept flowing. At first, it was just the three of them laughing and spinning tales at the long table in the center of the upper lounge. Before long, others gathered with them at the table, inc
luding several Elves, to join in the fun. It was surreal sitting among these wizards, many of whom were quite accomplished based on their fine clothing and medallions of office. Qel was even surprised to see a pair of Atlantean masters, who he did not recognize, joining in the fun. Many of them knew this man called Myrllin, especially the older ones, and treated him with great respect. Qel respected him as well after feeling the control and power the man had exerted over him in the lift disc. It was a sensation he would never forget, and he wished he had the chance to ask Havacian if he felt it as well.
The afternoon had lengthened into evening, and food was brought out for everyone to share. It was a good thing, since Qel was ravenous after all the drinking. If the night had ended there, Qel thought he would have departed the upper lounge as a respectable Atlantean wizard of the Imperial Order who had dined with what some of the patrons referred to as a legend of the magical arts. Unfortunately, things took a very different turn.
Just after they finished the fine meal of roasted vegetables and braised pork, a man walked into the lounge. To Qel’s utter shock, it was the Wandering Minstrel—or the Wanderer, as most called him—Wodanaz. A great shout of recognition greeted the minstrel from the crowded room of patrons prompting him to wave and smile in return. He looked around the room until his gaze landed on the table where they were sitting and he without hesitation began weaving his way through the room, receiving pats on the back as he went. When he arrived, the man sitting next to Myrllin quickly vacated his seat, and with a nod of thanks, Wodanaz replaced him.
“I was hoping to speak with you about a matter of some importance tonight,” Myrllin told Wodanaz, “but I found these two, and they needed a bit of mentoring.”
“I got your message, brother,” Wodanaz had replied. “If you’re sure they need us, you know I’m here to help. Besides, it’s nice to see you loosen up once in a while.” He turned to them and put out his hand, “I’m Wodanaz, and I think I have seen the pair of you before. You’re about to have the wildest night of your lives . . .”