by R A Oakes
“Imagine a moonless night where you can’t see the hand in front of your face,” one ancient wizard had said trying to explain the dilemma. “Now imagine an even greater darkness so dense that you can see it penetrating the night and feel its cold rays upon your skin. Then, accept the reality that it’s alive, and you’ll begin to understand the danger.”
However, now, as Aerylln sat in Crystal Castle admiring Baelfire, her sword’s half-sister, Crystal, was entombed in lava rock. The dark sword was a prisoner so dangerous that even Chen, the heir to Crystal, was leery of her.
But on this sunny day, Aerylln was appreciating Baelfire’s beauty in peace and quiet. The young woman’s horse, Zorya, came up behind her nudging her gently, and Aerylln felt Zorya’s necklace bumping against her shoulder. A crescent-moon shaped medallion encrusted with jewels hung from a silver chain that wrapped around the horse’s massive neck. The medallion was one-foot tall and almost as wide as Zorya’s chest was broad. The jewels in her medallion and the ones in Baelfire’s hilt were zakarten, a gem that acted like a prism refracting light into a variety of colors.
“What are you thinking about, little one?” Zorya asked her master. Aerylln was dressed in white leather pants, white blouse, a white leather jacket and white riding boots. White- blond hair flowed over her shoulders and down to her waist.
“I need action, real life action!” she exclaimed feeling impatient and frustrated. “Practicing with Baelfire in simulated crisis situations has been helpful, but how can I learn to be like my grandmother if I don’t do more than that?”
Aerylln was referring to her grandmother, Lyssa, who was Baelfire’s previous owner. Lyssa only had one child, Lord Pensgraft, and he couldn’t inherit the sword. He’d just been a caretaker holding it in trust until his daughter came of age. Having a feminine spirit, Baelfire could only be wielded effectively by women, all of whom had belonged to the same hereditary line.
“You did well last year fighting Lord Daegal,” Zorya reminded her. “Without your help, the warlord and his men would have overrun Crystal Castle.”
“That was last year,” Aerylln said.
After 500 years, Zorya wasn’t as eager for action as Aerylln who’d inherited Baelfire only the year before. It was Zorya’s feminine spirit that had been infused into Baelfire, and they shared a deep, mystical bond. Back then, Zorya was a spirit woman who’d taken human form and was known as a great sorceress called the Lady of the Well. Even after Crystal changed Zorya into a horse, Zorya’s bond with Baelfire hadn’t weakened as the dark sword had hoped it would.
Baelfire, Zorya and the human female who wielded the sword had the potential to form a powerful Trinity. However, before they could merge together and be as one, the rivers of energy flowing through them had to be synchronized. Rather than happening dramatically, as it had with her grandmother, the transformation into the Trinity of Light had taken place slowly over the last year.
Baelfire and Zorya had always been linked, but drawing a new master into the Trinity had never been an easy process and was often a time of trial and error.
“Aerylln, you’ve made remarkable progress. But some things can’t be rushed,” Zorya cautioned her.
I can’t stand waiting! Aerylln thought in frustration. But then she said, “If people wait for the perfect moment to come along, they’ll never do anything. You can’t wait until you’re completely ready or until you’re sure you can afford to do something.”
“You have a point,” Zorya admitted.
“I need experience with real-life situations,” Aerylln said. “During practice sessions, sometimes I’ll keep my balance, and the three of us become as one. But if I’m taken by surprise, then I lose my concentration, and I can’t sustain the link. At this point, our connection breaks so easily.”
“All the more reason to exert caution,” Zorya advised.
“But in real-life situations, maybe it would be easier to focus. You know, if something was actually at stake, maybe I would rally.”
“What if something went wrong? People could die. Is that what you want?” Zorya asked.
“No, of course not, but I’m not going to get much better at creating a Trinity by just sitting around here.”
Oh, give me patience! Zorya thought in frustration.
Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Aerylln asked.
“Marcheto.”
After giving him permission to enter, Aerylln watched the young man striding towards her wearing his wizard’s robes. A year ago, during the battle with Lord Daegal at Crystal Castle, Eldwyn, a senior wizard, chose Marcheto as his apprentice and successor.
“I was speaking to your father, and he says some of us will be going north to Skybrook Castle,” Marcheto said brimming with excitement and enthusiasm.
“Why?”
“Lord Pensgraft said it involves politics, a power struggle and infighting!”
Aerylln’s eyes brightened at that news.
“But he also said it could be dangerous, and he might not let you go.”
“He can’t do that!”
“Being Lord Pensgraft, he can pretty much do whatever he wants,” Marcheto said.
“I’m going!” Aerylln shouted, and she stomped out of the room.
Meanwhile, in Crystal Castle’s great hall, Lord Pensgraft had a good idea of how his daughter was going to react to what Marcheto had told her.
“I want her to demand to go, and I want her to fight for it,” Lord Pensgraft told Chen who was sitting next to him.
“Oh, she will,” Chen assured him.
“I hope so. I want her to decide for herself what she wants and then make it happen.”
Aerylln ran downstairs with storm clouds brewing in her eyes and charged into the great hall. Feeling her anger, Lord Pensgraft smiled inside but kept his face somber.
Striding up to her father, Aerylln put her hands on her hips and said, “I’m going!”
“No you’re not,” the giant said calmly and quietly.
Aerylln became so frustrated that she felt like crying but willed the tears away. Turning to Chen for help, she was shocked to find the black leather panther staring back at her with cold, hard eyes. Chen was usually nice to her, and it dawned on the younger woman that she was being tested.
“I’m not asking for permission. All I’m doing is letting you know where I’ll be!” Aerylln said spinning on her heel and striding briskly out of the room.
Lord Pensgraft and Chen looked at each other and smiled.
As Aerylln was walking away in a huff, Chen admired the thick, white-blond hair flowing down her back. But next, she noticed something else. Aerylln’s bottom was fuller and more sensuous, at least more so than a few months ago.
“I need to have a more in-depth talk with Aerylln about young men,” Chen said.
Looking at his wife, the giant warrior said, “If Marcheto hurts her….”
“I’m not worried about Marcheto. He’s sweet, and you have him intimidated. However, I am concerned about other men, and you can’t kill them all,” Chen said smiling at her husband.
“I could try,” he growled.
“For now, let’s limit ourselves to Lord Stallington’s enemies,” Chen laughed.
Watching his daughter heading back upstairs, Lord Pensgraft realized Aerylln was maturing and would soon leave behind the last vestiges of childhood. Sighing deeply, he said, “Skybrook Castle will be the beginning of a whole new stage for her.”
“I’ve a feeling it will be a whole new stage of life for us all,” Chen said.
Chapter 2
Lord Stallington’s warhorse carried the elderly ruler up a long switchback trail winding its way high into the mountains. Nearing the top, most of his guards rode ahead to inspect an imposing fortification that for decades had protected, and totally blocked, the mountain pass. Even the entrance was designed to discourage intruders. Barely large enough for one mounted horseman to pass through, there could be no mass
rush of enemy warriors into this fortification.
However, once Chen gained control of the northern part of Crystal Valley, there had been no further trouble in the region. These days, the fortification was manned by a token number of Lord Stallington’s warriors who functioned more as diplomats than defenders. Chen and the aging ruler shared a peaceful boundary, and Lord Stallington’s men considered the inspection to be just a formality. But they observed it none-the- less.
The lord of Skybrook Castle and his daughter, Genevieve, were traveling with 20 of his toughest, most- experienced warriors and were accompanied by Aerylln, Baelfire, Zorya and Marcheto. Corson, one of Chen’s closest friends, was taking up the rear. Ever hostile, antagonistic and suspicious, the warrior woman surveyed the mountainous terrain with a practiced eye.
If anyone’s going to attack us, this is an ideal place, Corson thought. We’re entering Lord Stallington’s lands, and he might drop his guard and relax.
The warrior woman watched the elderly ruler’s guards approaching the fortification’s entrance and expected trouble, but then she always did. Riding next to her was Balder, a male warrior, who was studying her facial expressions trying to discern her mood. Having been together for almost five years, he was well aware of her unpredictable, volatile nature. Seeing Corson’s hand resting on the hilt of her sword, Balder wondered what was bothering the warrior woman. Personally, he saw no reason to be concerned.
Corson wants to get into a fight so badly, Balder thought knowing her temperament and having great respect for her fighting skill. However, he began smiling when the warriors manning the fortification began waving Lord Stallington’s guards through the entrance.
“Everything looks fine. Are you disappointed?” Balder asked teasing her.
Refusing to be distracted, Corson carefully scrutinized the men on the walkway behind the front wall. And even though they were smiling, the warrior woman could sense an underlying hostility. Slowly, Corson slid an arrow from her quiver.
“Something’s just not right,” she said quietly.
“Are you having another one of your premonitions?” Balder asked instantly alert.
Almost in response, a surge of energy from the fortification struck Corson bringing with it a powerful intuitive awareness, and she shouted, “I’m sensing danger, grave danger!”
Trusting Corson’s instincts implicitly, that’s all the warning Balder needed. Without hesitation, he sprang into action shouting, “It’s a trap!”
Pulling her bowstring back, Corson launched the arrow at a man directly above the entrance who fell backwards with a shaft sticking out of his neck.
Determined to protect Lord Stallington, Balder spurred his horse and rode past Aerylln shouting, “Unsheathe Baelfire!”
Grasping the hilt of her sword, the young woman started to obey, but Zorya intervened saying, “Not yet, there are people between us and Lord Stallington. If you can’t control the force of Baelfire’s energy, you’ll knock them all from their saddles.”
“Then get us closer, please, and hurry!”
Instantly, rays of multicolored light shot out of Zorya’s eyes forming shafts as thick as arrows and just as straight. The jewels of Zorya’s necklace did the same, the shafts of light including all the colors of a prism. Some were purple, while others were blue, green, yellow, orange or red. And the bright shafts of light fanned out in all directions.
Quickly adjusting her feet in the stirrups, Aerylln wrapped the reins around her left hand while grabbing hold of Zorya’s mane with her right. Then, the magical warhorse took what appeared to be one great stride forward, and suddenly they were next to Lord Stallington.
Speaking up, Baelfire said, “Jump onto Lord Stallington’s horse and sit right behind him.”
As Aerylln stood on Zorya’s saddle and prepared to jump, the warhorse said, “You must keep the Trinity unified. Concentrate on the link between you, Baelfire and myself. You’ve said you’re tired of practicing and want real-life action. Now you have it. Make me proud of you.”
Leaping into the air, the young woman felt rivers of energy from Baelfire and Zorya flowing through her with enormous intensity. This was the Trinity she’d practiced so hard to feel and maintain. Three as one, a combustible mixture of life forces creating enormous power if properly synchronized.
“Unsheathe me now!” Baelfire shouted when Aerylln landed behind Lord Stallington.
Doing as she was told, the young woman held the sword high above her head, and purple, blue, green, yellow, orange and red shafts of light exploded from the jewels in Baelfire’s hilt. Aerylln, Baelfire and Zorya were now in total unity. The blood was pounding in Aerylln’s temples, Baelfire was feeling razor sharp, and Zorya had the strength of 100 horses. They were majestic, they were dynamic, and they were unbeatable!
Lord Stallington’s horse reared up on its hind legs, but Aerylln held onto the elderly ruler as beams of multicolored light began encircling them creating a protective force field. Energized by the battle, Lord Stallington’s poor health couldn’t keep his warrior instincts from surfacing, and he spurred his horse galloping towards the stone fortification.
Alarmed by his reckless, headlong charge, Corson shouted to Zorya, “The men who rode through that entrance are probably already dead!”
“Use the shafts of multicolored light to defend us! Make them into bows and arrows!” Zorya shouted back.
“Good idea!”
“With Aerylln protecting Lord Stallington, I need someone to ride me and shoot light arrows, a warrior with great courage who shows no fear and spits in the face of death.”
“That would be me!” Corson shouted while almost laughing. The warrior woman knew Zorya had been referring to her.
For most of her life, Corson had endured a level of mental and emotional anguish that would have crippled a lesser woman. As a form of escapism, she’d engaged in frequent battles, and the prospect of ending her suffering made facing death almost a relief.
At the age of six, her odyssey of despair and destruction began upon seeing her parents being brutally murdered. Afterwards, a childless couple, a local tavern owner and his wife, had taken her in. Much to their delight, she was a hard worker helping out at the tavern and at local farms as well. She loved physical labor and had spent endless hours plowing and clearing new fields. She’d grown strong, very strong. And the bigger she’d gotten, the harder she worked.
However, Corson was always getting into fights and not only with girls but with boys and even full-grown men. Eventually, the townsfolk began wondering if something inside of her had snapped the day her parents died. And they were right. A boundary had been broken.
Nothing made sense to Corson. The savage murder of her parents was an experience no boundaries could ever justify or explain. Thus she had none.
While in her early teens, Corson stole a sword from a tavern customer and walked 20 miles to find the man who’d killed her parents. What had transpired that day wasn’t pretty. Even grown men cringed and shook their heads when they heard what she’d done to him. After that, she was even more hostile.
One day, when Corson was 15, Andrina was visiting the tavern and had witnessed the young woman’s temper. It had been intense, focused and fierce. With only a knife, Corson was lashing out at four drunken men who’d been hassling her foster parents and drove them from the establishment.
Greatly amused, Andrina had taken the wild teenage girl and taught her how to fight, to really fight. Then, she’d made her a member of Chen’s personal guard comprised of 100 young warrior women, and Corson was the best, except for Chen herself.
So when Zorya invited Corson to join her, the warrior woman immediately leapt from her warhorse onto Zorya’s back.
“Touch me with your spurs, and you’ll be dead before we take one step,” the magic horse said sensing Corson’s eagerness to reach the fortification.
“Promises, promises,” the warrior woman laughed, but the urge to join in combat was almost overpowering.
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As Zorya galloped towards the fortification, Corson took a thick beam of light to use for a bow, a thread of light for a bowstring and broke thin shafts of light into arrows. Then, she began firing at men defending the fortification’s walls and discovered light arrows travel a lot faster than wooden ones and are impossible to dodge.
Watching Aerylln and Lord Stallington riding through the fortification’s entrance, Zorya thought, They’ll be safe no matter what happens. Nothing can penetrate that force field.
Aerylln wasn’t so sure, but she was caught up in the excitement and was thrilled to be charging into danger with a legendary ruler who’d been known as the Fighting Eagle in his prime. With deadly results, Lord Stallington had swooped down on many an adversary, and he’d never lost a battle. Not ever.
However, in his 70s, the elderly ruler wasn’t physically up to the challenge and was being driven purely by instinct. If he and Aerylln hadn’t been protected by the multicolored force field, both of them would have been dead by now.
As it was, the aging warrior was having one last hurrah and felt better than he had in years. Reaching the other side of the fortification, onto land that was his, Lord Stallington was determined to lead the fight to retake the huge stone wall.
Galloping over to a group of five warriors, he rode them down and took a swipe at another with his sword. He missed, but it didn’t matter. The man fell down seemingly of his own accord.
How did that happen? Lord Stallington wondered.
But then it dawned on him. The force field had knocked the warrior down, and the Fighting Eagle felt ashamed and embarrassed to be protected by the multicolored light. It was like admitting he couldn’t take care of himself, which he couldn’t.
“Death is better than this!” Lord Stallington shouted, and he was closer to getting his wish than he realized.
Looking around, Aerylln saw two-dozen warriors wearing Skybrook Castle uniforms that were ripped and bloodstained. Shocked, the young woman realized the uniforms must have been taken from Lord Stallington’s warriors who’d been stationed at the fortification, all of whom were now dead.