by Teresa Grant
“Maybe it was struck by lightnin, maybe they moved afore it happened, maybe a plague?” Luther kept giving suggestions because anything sounded better than what he was afraid they would say next.
Mickael slowly shook his head, “Signs were posted… They read, ‘Beware, this village was possessed! The area has been ‘cleansed.’ “They all died for being compassionate enough to welcome a freak.”
Luther didn’t know what to say. It was a heavy burden for anyone to carry. No wonder they were so intent on finding Rylan’s child.
“Let’s go Laddies! What say we walk a spell? Give them wings a wee rest. Ol Luther will tell you a few more of his stories.”
It felt good to finally talk about it. It was something no one could change, or even provide any comfort for, but somehow just getting it out in the open helped, a little bit at least.
Maybe it would be their tiny spark of a beginning, in accepting the unacceptable.
Chapter 21
As Nathanial, Branadon and the two Dwarfs approached the old volcano, they could see that much had been done in their absence to refortify the mountain and surrounding lands. Many new faces greeted them as they passed sentry after sentry. More often than not, they replaced the faces of friends that had fallen in the frantic battle to hold the mountain and The Scale within, where the old Branadon had died so horribly last year. It wasn’t the first time they wished that Darion and Elise had destroyed The Scale instead of merely restoring the balance. It had lulled them into a false sense of security with the Witch dead and The Scales in balance. They had not been prepared for the uprising of the demons that had escaped the vat and caused many casualties as they finally ejected the Dwarves from the core and fled.
The Dwarfs never had found out who led the assault, but it was clear to all that someone or something was in charge. The leader was never spotted in the escape. The problem was, even if they knew how to destroy Garr’s Scale, they didn’t know what would happen if they did. Would chaos reign? Was it only a visual scale, or did it truly have control over fate? It was too fatal of a chance to take.
Nearing the mountain itself, news of Branadon’s miraculous return ran swiftly before them, so they were greeted by a mob of relatives and friends all wearing identical expressions of hopeful disbelief. After the initial outburst of welcome, an awkward silence followed.
Branadon’s reappearance from the beyond was not something easily accepted by some, and a little overwhelming for all. Faradon finally broke the ice by announcing loudly, “Beats Hell out of that Elf, Fynlaylyn, and his popping up with a Dragon, now don’t it?”
This seemed to help all of them put things into perspective. They were living in an age where legends came to life and the impossible became possible. If it brought back one of their own, who were they to question it? People started to drift away smiling while the rest of Branadon’s cousins pushed their way through to grasp his hands as if to reassure themselves that he truly was flesh and blood.
At that moment, a year seemed a lifetime away for Branadon. Even though time had already ticked off over a month in the blink of an eye.
Branadon naturally took charge. It had always been that way. Nat was practicing his illusiveness again and it was some time before anyone thought to make introductions. The kid had a lot on his mind. Branadon didn’t seem to be paying that much attention to the time he had left, but Nat sure was. From the moment he met Branadon until now, he was counting it down. It was going too fast as far as he was concerned. This time next year Branadon would be gone. It just wasn’t fair. What right did the fates have to bring Branadon into his life and rip him back out again so quickly. What good were his ‘gifts’ if he couldn’t use them for what he wanted most?
He had been forming a plan ever since Branadon defended him while he shared his abilities with Faradon and Borris.
He had to practice quietly though. What he was attempting was not very natural, and he was not at all sure how Branadon would take to the idea. Being unobtrusive and overlooked was the best way to stay for the moment.
It was decided to keep Nat’s multi-parentage and incredible talents quiet for the time being. His abilities may come in handy for something, but for now, there was no sense in making everyone even more nervous with an untrained, untried Wizard in their midst.
Many days passed while everyone everywhere prepared. For what, they weren’t quite sure, but they were not going to be caught with their defenses down again. Trenches were dug, weapons were sharpened, and traps were set and mapped.
Word finally came that the demons were headed this way again. Neglavale and Arilonia’s armies were in pursuit. They hoped to head him off before they reached the mountain, but they needed to be ready just in case.
Branadon looked forward to meeting all those people who suddenly meant so much to him. It felt weird that he would have to be introduced to them when they got there. He felt bad for going against Mickael and Dryfus’s wish for them not to meet again, but circumstances had changed.
The mountain itself was the main focal point for the soldiers. They felt like they had it bottled up tight, but as they reinforced the gates and combed the hillsides for possible ambush sights, they couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the evil inside rose up again. It seemed peaceful enough, but who could tell. There was talk by some that didn’t have all the facts, that maybe they could get the Dragons to level the mountain when they arrived, crushing that damn scale. The lady in the light could be seen from time to time by a few, brave enough to peek into the volcano from above. But she never deigned to acknowledge them. On the other hand, the evil that continually shrieked and screamed from the opposite side of The Scale, threw guttural taunts at any and all who came within hearing distance, but it was obvious they could not escape without help.
Nat spent almost all his spare time inside the mountain whenever he could sneak past the sentries. The Scale fascinated him. He took to sitting alone and studying it at night, that seemed to be when it held the most action. He never came across anything outside of The Scale, but he couldn’t assure anyone about that because he had been forbidden to even be in there.
By day, Nat could be found exploring the many tunnels that peppered the hillside. Most of the debris from the first overflow, just after Elise and Darion were there, had been cleaned up, same as the second outburst. Even so, there were always things to find of interest, and more tunnels that hadn’t been boarded up yet.
The Witch’s hall of mirrors was shut like a tomb to honor the dead, but not before careful inspection deemed it safe to do so, back when the Dwarves were still inside.
You could spend a lifetime exploring all the tunnels and caves. Nat never tired of it. He tried to stick to the areas already searched by the Dwarves, but most times his curiosity got the better of him. When his wonderings were brought to Branadon’s attention by Borris, who had caught him sneaking out one day, Branadon curiously just shrugged it off. “Let the boy be. If he’s staying out of the way all the better, I say, at least he’s not underfoot.” He knew he should talk to him about it. He just never seemed to have the time.
Always the lack of time.
Little did Branadon know that that was exactly what Nat was working on. Time, more time for Branadon. He was not going to accept the limit he was given.
One day Nat was deeper into the depths of the mountain than ever before. He found a rough stone stair and a passage that was well disguised. The opening was sunk cleverly into the wall so that anyone passing would think it only a recess. Holding his torch high he descended deeper and deeper into the dark tunnel. When the floor beneath him finally leveled off, it opened into a small cavern. In the center was a crypt. Holding his breath Nat read the words chiseled into the lid.
‘Here Sleeps Branadon.’ “That’s kinda short! How sentimental.” he muttered sarcastically.
Although the epitaph seemed blunt, tremendous care had gone into the stone itself. It was smooth as glass. Chiseled into the sides were hor
rific battle scenes with the prominent figure being a Dwarf about a foot taller than all the rest.
“This isn’t fair,” Nat cried in anguish.
Branadon was so patient with him. He taught him so much in such a short amount of time. Although, he did have the cuffed ears to prove his patience had limits. Non the less, Branadon eventually answered every question that Nat had ever thrown his way.
Nat knew he had parents out there he would meet one day, but right now, Branadon was it. He was not about to let him go so easily.
Carefully, Nat pushed with all his might on the heavy stone lid. Too late he realized this tomb was crafted by Dwarfs. The lid slid as if on ice and overshot the edge, landing behind it onto the floor with a mighty crash.
Running around he quickly inspected the lid to ensure it had not been damaged. It just would not do for someone to come down here and discover what he was up to prematurely.
Turning slowly, he looked at the bones enshrouded in bits of some type of tattered material. Beside him was an axe, but Nat didn’t touch it. He reached in and touched the cloth though. He hoped to find more than just bones in there. He didn’t know if it would be enough for what he was planning. He couldn’t just make a person out of a rock.
He had a few small successes transforming objects and animating them, but would something like that work for a human life? If he wasn’t so desperate, what he was contemplating would have scared the bejeebers out of him.
“If I can do these things, I wonder what other Wizards can do,” he thought. “I don’t think I really want to meet one and find out. It’s not as though I can practice this a few million times, is it?” he questioned the bones. “I wish I could talk this over with Branadon… or Noni… or someone. Someone who wouldn’t have a fit and try to lock me up. I know it sounds crazy, but I have to at least try… don’t I?
“Try… or say goodbye.
“I mean, it’s not as though I’m bringing you back from the dead… is it? The way I look at it, I’m just transferring life forces. Noni does it, kinda, why shouldn’t I? You’ll just be the anchor for what I need to transfer Branadon into. He was quite clear he didn’t like sharing the way Noni Molly does. This is the better way.
“It just has to be!”
Deciding to go and get some fresh air to help him think better, Nat tried to replace the lid of the crypt. Straining all his muscles, he still could not budge the stone an inch.
“What am I doing?” he rebuked himself. Concentrating hard, Nat levitated the lid into place. “Wow, I don’t know why everyone gets so upset about my gifts. Maybe they’re just jealous,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he turned and started up the passage.
Once outside, his idea seemed even more credible. He saw Branadon walking purposefully past him and asked him to stop and talk for a minute. Branadon stopped and listened without comment until Nat finished. Nat was beginning to think Branadon didn’t hear a word he said. He just stood there staring at him. Finally, he shook his head and said “No,” calmly and coolly, “No.” Then he turned around and walked away.
Nat couldn’t let it go. He followed him doggedly, trying to reason with the Dwarf.
“We’ve got to at least give it a try, Sir,” he persisted. “If it doesn’t work, Noni can zip you back before it’s too late. I’m sure of it,” Nat hoped, wondering if it were true.
Stopping in his tracks, Branadon shook his head and told Nat skeptically, “It sounds a might far-fetched to me lad. I’ve come to terms with some mighty strange things this year, but I don’t think we should be messing with this. It’s not natural.”
“Nothing about you and I being alive is natural!” Nat insisted. “Look at us! There must be a reason we were brought together. I could have gone back to my parents, but I knew you needed me. Now I’ve finally figured out why. Why can’t we at least try? Are you afraid…?”
Branadon cut him off fiercely, “Grown Dwarfs are not afraid to die Nathanial. It’s the consequences I’m thinking about. Let’s say we do this? Then what? What happens when I really am supposed to die?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think lad, will I die? Or will I keep going on? This all smacks of black sorcery to me. Besides, I may not be ready to go just yet, but I will be damned if I’m hanging around long after I’m meant to be gone. I’m already living on borrowed time, so to speak.”
“Branadon, I know it will work, I know it! If it were wrong, I’d feel it. It doesn’t feel bad. Like back at Noni’s when I’d use my gift to do bad things…” Nat looked at Branadon a little shame faced but swallowed and continued on. “I experimented a little when I was young,” he explained.
“Young... Ha… That’s no comfort Nat. Technically, you’re not even a year old yet. Take no offence now lad, but it doesn’t instill a lot of confidence.”
“You’ll just have to trust me. I’d NEVER do anything to hurt you. I couldn’t. I’d know it…” again the sly look crept into Nat’s eyes as he remembered the jig he had made Branadon perform one night when they were first living together.
Branadon was about to ask for further explanations but dismissed it. “Right now, I just don’t know lad. I have to think on it awhile. There’s still time boy,” he assured him ruffling his hair. “We have other fish to fry at the moment.
“Don’t worry about me so much. Go find some lads your own age to play with.” Branadon turned to leave, chuckling as he realized what he had just said. “Come on lad, let’s get some grub.”
Nat followed behind dejectedly. He had worked so hard to come up with the answer. He realized he was going to need some accomplices if he was going to get the stubborn Dwarf to agree. He was sure it would work!
Telling Branadon he wasn’t hungry, he returned to the mountain. He took a large blanket with him and secretly removed the bones, taking them and the axe up to the top of the mountain where he hid them in a small cave. He carefully laid Branadon’s remains out, and reverently arranged them in their proper places on the blanket. He levitated a large boulder to block the entrance in case some animal might come and steal one and ruin the whole thing. He then went in search of Faradon and Borris.
After their initial aversion to his gift, they soon realized he could be a handy friend to have around. Especially Borris, he sought Nat out a few times for a couple of small favors, nothing too extreme. Mostly simple things, like making his sword and armor impervious to rust. Small things like that to make his soldiering a little easier. All and all, the Dwarves were a pretty honorable race. They wouldn’t take advantage of him. They never asked him to do anything they thought might make him uneasy. He wondered how they would feel about what he was about to tell them now.
He thought it would be harder to find them in this sea of Dwarfish soldiers spread out on the plain, but even amongst their own, Branadon and his cousins stood out like royalty.
He could see the cousins holding court at a fire pit telling stories of battles, won and lost. It looked as though they stopped there for a noonday meal and got waylaid.
Grabbing a bite to go for himself, he signaled from the surrounding crowd that he wished to speak to the two of them in private.
Faradon and Borris cut their story short and left amidst cries of disappointment, and bribes of better ale, to stay and finish the tale properly. But they could tell by the look on Nat’s face, something was urgent.
Guiding them towards the Mountain, Nat assured them he would explain what he had in mind when they reached the top. For some reason, as silly as it sounded, he felt their chances would be greater for success if it were done tonight beneath a full moon and he needed them to hurry.
He should have placed a guard as well on the bones, he thought. But what would he have told them to guard? It would have made things too complicated.
“Slow down boy,” Faradon demanded, “It’s hard to hear what you’re saying when you run on like that. Stop here awhile and explain yourself.”
“I can’t, please, just follow me an
d I’ll explain when we get there. We have to hurry! Branadon needs us!”
That got them moving faster. In fact, Borris overtook Nat with his drawn sword and would have run right past the cave if Nat hadn’t hollered for him to stop.
“Where is he? What’s wrong? Boy, if you’re playing tricks with us, I’ll tan your hide!” Borris warned.
“Please, he’s not in danger,” Nat panted, trying to catch his breath. Man, these Dwarfs could climb mountains better than billy-goats.
It had taken less than an hour to get to the top. Gasping, Nat tried to tell them, he didn’t know how to start so he thought he had better just get on with it, “I found a way to give Branadon back his life. He doesn’t have to die at the end of the year, but I need your help to convince him to try it.”
Sheathing their swords, they all took a seat on a nearby fallen log. The Dwarves looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“You think you can get Bran out of that old hag’s body? How? He’s not coming in here with me if that’s your intention!” Borris insisted squeamishly.
“Shut yer yap Borris, let the boy speak,” Faradon rebuked him. “What are ya sayin’ Nat? Is this going to cost us our souls or what?”
“No… No, no, no, I’m not talking dark spells and demons here. I just want to transfer his life force from one vessel into another. Noni can only hold him for one year, but if he had his old body back, I’m hoping it would just rekindle his old force and he would continue on, like nothing happened back when he fell. His bones are enough to rebuild it.”
“You mean he’d be back in his ‘old’ body? He wouldn’t be strutting around like he’s King o’ the Mountain anymore?” Faradon asked. Branadon suddenly being younger than them and in better shape was driving them crazy. Competition was everything in a Dwarf’s life. Faradon was lost in thought, and both Nat and Borris were staring at him as he came back to reality.
“What do we have to do?” he asked Nat with enthusiasm.