by David Wind
“You only think such. You healed Trebor. What you did for Mikaal, I could not. Within you is a powerful healer: trust in the women of the Island and doubt not your ability. They would not have sent you if they had not prepared you. Although you know it not, your ability will guide you. You must trust such to happen, just as it did with Mikaal.”
Akassia touched the Master’s face and stiffened. Areenna’s breath caught when Akassia turned to her, her eyes glazed with a golden glow. “Lay him flat. Take his hands and do not release them—both of you.”
Mikaal carefully laid him down, took his hand in both of his, and clasped it tightly while Areenna did the same on the other side. Akassia swept her eyes over him and hesitated as the golden glow faded. “I don’t know where to begin, he is so… broken.”
Areenna leaned toward her. “Start anywhere, look for what is the worst and begin there. Give yourself over to the healing. It is the only way.”
With her eyes locked on Areenna’s, she placed her hands on his chest. The instant she did, the golden glaze spread across her eyes, and she was blind within the healing. Her hands glowed as she traced slowly over his body. When she finished, she opened her eyes. “His heart is failing,” she told Areenna
“Begin there.”
Akassia again bent over the ancient Master and went to work. Her hands stayed centered over his heart. She remained motionless for five solid minutes before she lifted her hands. When she did, his eyes opened and Mikaal saw their pale blue shade. “Rest easy,” Mikaal said.
I have been resting for too long. Squeezing Mikaal’s hand, he closed his eyes.
Lowering her hands, Akassia continued tracing his body. She stopped every so often and the glow around her hands grew brighter. When the glow dimmed, she moved on. Finally, she drew her hands from him and said, “Turn him over, be very gentle.”
While Mikaal turned the Master over, Akassia pulled at Areenna’s arm. “A knife.”
With her brows furrowed, Areenna drew the long knife from its sheath. “Why?”
Akassia pointed to a scar in the small of his back. “There is wood lodged into his spine, it is… melded to the bone. It must come out.”
“You mean to cut it out?”
“I… No, to open the skin only. When I start the healing, you must cut the skin deep enough to open, but not so far as to do damage.”
Akassia returned to the healing trance and Areenna placed the sharp tip of the knife at the scar. She touched the edges of Akassia’s mind and as soon as the girl began to push the healing, she opened the scar with a single cut. Blood welled from the wound. The glow around Akassia’s hands deepened and the bleeding stopped.
Areenna watched the wound and the way Akassia’s hands appeared to be working, her fingers making strange cutting and slicing motions. Then, minutes later, the broken piece of wood appeared in the open skin. It rose higher until Areenna could grip the wooden fragment with her thumb and forefinger.
It took another minute for Akassia to lift the long slice of wood completely free from his spine and when she did, Areenna pulled it out.
Akassia spent another quarter hour in the healing trance before she ended it and sat back. “He will need to rest.”
Mikaal started to pull his hand back, but the Master held it tight. Stay. Tell me of the situation. It is bad?
Areenna knew the question was for Mikaal, not her, and remained silent within their joining.
Bad, yes. Impossible? No. The Master who took me is very powerful, Mikaal responded.
He is Fasil Abdul-Mu'eid who was once my second. He now is the strongest voice of the Eight Masters.
Eight Masters? You are not a part of them?
My son has taken my place. Afzal Ben Jalil. They do not yet know I am alive. Nevertheless, he will know the moment the crystal entry opens. They want the staff of Afzal. This must never happen.
With his free hand, Mikaal touched the staff, which was now just a simple piece of wood. No spark issued from it, no white glow surrounded it.
Then we must not allow it.
Without releasing either Areenna or Mikaal’s hands, the renegade Master pulled himself to a sitting position. “I need time before I can aid you,” he said aloud, his words sounding strange in Mikaal’s ears, the thick accent making the way he spoke unfamiliar.
Jalil Ben Afzal, the direct descendant of Afzal Mahmud Terak, the founder of the Circle, looked from Mikaal to Areenna, his eyes both sad and kind. “I need time to heal, time to regain my strength. It will take both of you to stop him. He is powerful, cunning, and has only one goal—to complete the domination of every living being on our world, and Nevaeh is the last. If he gains the staff, he and the other Masters cannot be stopped.”
“You, with your complement, are the only two who can stop the Circle from conquering Nevaeh.”
Areenna, both hands still gripping his hand, shook her head. We are not like you, or the Eight women of the Island. We are… just people.
He nodded, and smiled. Yes, just people you are, and just people you are not. Both of you are… more.
Before Areenna could reply, Jalil pulled his hands free and grasped the staff. “You must use the staff when you face him. It will protect you and he… the Master you must stop is very powerful, and you must both believe in the powers you have been granted. Without such belief…”
Areenna took the staff. When her fingers closed around the old wood, a spark snapped between her skin and the wood. A vibration hummed beneath her fingers and entered her body.
“Good. It is as I have foreseen; you have accepted,” said Jalil Ben Afzal. “It is time.”
<><><>
“It is time,” Roth said, looking back at the gathered Nevaens.
Nasus had just finished her report. Her aoutem had found things exactly as Enaid had predicted. There were two dozen exiles armed with bows lining both sides above the trail’s end.
Hidden beneath the edge of the ridge, the rantor now waited for Nasus’s command.
Roth started to signal when he saw Timon running up the trail toward him. Two hours earlier, Timon had disappeared after telling Roth he needed to look for something. Behind him followed a group of Nevaen soldiers, carrying planks of wood.
When he reached Roth, he pointed to the soldiers. “We found wooden planks in the encampment and rope enough to make a shield of sorts to protect attack from above.” Turning, he motioned to the soldiers, who put the wood down and began lashing the planks together.
“Once again, my friend, you have come to the rescue.”
“We’ll see,” Timon said with a shrug.
Roth glanced at the lightening sky and knew the sun, for as little as it would ride the sky, would be up soon. “You’re ready?” he asked Enaid.
“I am, we are,” she said motioning to the small group of women standing behind her.
He stepped toward them, Enaid at his side. He gazed at each one in turn, and at the aoutems as well. “You will follow the wood shield we are building. Stay far enough behind to be out of range, but close enough to use your abilities.” His eyes swept over each woman. “You are the only protection we have.”
Each woman’s face was set in determined lines as they listened to their King. None spoke.
At Roth’s signal, eight men lifted the long wooden shield parallel to the ground. Roth motioned two of his ‘Six’ groups to go under the shield. The twelve men barely fit, but they managed. Roth took a breath and gave the signal.
The men beneath the shield led the way. Roth, Enaid and Timon were between the shield and the women. The rest of the Nevaen warriors followed.
<><><>
Areenna and Mikaal stood at the crystal entry. Behind them were Akassia and Laira with Trebor between them. On each side of the women were three of the Sixes. You are ready?
As ready as I can be, Mikaal responded.
We must be joined and stay so. It is the only way possible.
Instead of words, he sent a rush of warmth to her, as if em
bracing her physically. Areenna responded in kind. Mikaal and Areenna joined and their powers flared. She glanced over her shoulder at the Master and nodded.
The crystal wall made no sound, no color changed as it opened—not slowly as it had for them, but in one quick moment to expose them to those who waited.
Her first sight was of the Dark Master standing in the center of the massed Nevaen exiles. When the crystal opened, the Master drew himself to his full height and spun to face Areenna, his deformed face the color of cold, burnt charcoal. Her powers flashed and the staff vibrated in tune with swirling heat within her and Mikaal.
Areenna created a shield around them and stepped forward. When she and Mikaal cleared the cavern opening, a dark purple flash exploded across the shield with the Master’s first attack.
Mikaal’s longsword was in his right hand, his left encased in fire. He raised his left and let loose a stream of fire directly at the Master. The flames struck an invisible wall.
The Master spread his hands and circled them once. Then, he pushed his hands toward them. Flames rose and shot toward Mikaal and Areenna. Areenna raised the staff and before the flames were halfway to them, they were gone.
“Forward,” Mikaal said, knowing there was more than magic to come. He raised his sword and charged. At his side, Areenna lifted the staff with her left hand, her right hand enveloped with the blue-white light of her most powerful ability. As she ran next to Mikaal, she sent two bolts of blue lightning—one at the oncoming exiles, the other directly at the Dark Master.
CHAPTER 36
“Ready,” Roth whispered just loud enough for the men carrying the wooden shield to hear. He turned to Nasus, who stood at the head of the women. “Now!”
Nasus closed her eyes. Within the space of a breath came the loud cry of a hunting rantor followed by two bodies crashing downward.
“Go!” Roth commanded and raced forward. Enaid was at his side, her powers flaring as she raised a shield to protect them from the Dark Master. There was another scream, this one issued from the mouth of a falling exile, as the rantor created havoc above.
On the plateau, the Dark Master, in the midst of his attack on Areenna and Mikaal, turned and with a flick of one hand created an avalanche of rock, snow and dirt. The shifting earth careened down the sides of the trail. The landslide the Dark Master had so easily created caught three of his own exiles.
The moment the surge of dark energy struck, Enaid shouted for everyone to stop. “With me,” she added to the women and drew on her abilities. Aided by the women, Enaid pushed at the falling rocks, forcing them to drop straight and not roll down upon her people.
She poured every ounce of her powers at the mass of earth—not to stop it as had the Dark Master earlier—but to direct its fall, slowing the debris until it settled on the trail without rolling down on them. The result was not good. Their way to the top was blocked.
Taking in what had just happened, Roth screamed his rage and charged the pile of earth, jumping onto a large boulder, grasping at another and pulling himself up. His Sixes raced behind, clawing for handholds and footholds as they followed their King.
“Shield them!” she ordered the women. “Use your bows,” she told the Nevaen soldiers even as she pulled her black wood bow from its hitch on her back and slotted an arrow.
The arrows flew quickly, striking some of the exiles, who leaned over the side to fire at the climbing men while others ducked back out of the way. The white rantor took two more down. “Keep shooting! Keep them away from the ridge. Protect Roth. Protect our men!”
<><><>
At the instant Areenna released her bolts at the Dark Master and the exiles, the Master turned toward the trail and dislodged the avalanche. Areenna’s first bolt struck the oncoming exiles and cut a path through them, their bodies flying in every direction. The second bolt sped toward the Master, who turned back just in time to raise his shield and stop it. The blue lance of power struck the shield and spread out across its face—its force so powerful the Master staggered within his own bubble of protection.
Areenna sent another volley of energy at him, but this time he was prepared and, roaring out his anger, sent two streams of killing energy at Areenna and Mikaal.
Without thought, Areenna raised the staff. A stream of dazzling white spread before them. When the streaking death reached them, it hit the white misty barrier and disappeared.
The exiles ran forward, their weapons raised, their faces distorted with the projected fury of their Master.
Taking in everything as if she were an onlooker and not part of this battle, Areenna recognized the impending danger. “Circle with me!” she shouted. Turning her back on the onrushing enemy, she raised the staff and slammed it into the earth. It hit the ground, stopped for an instant, and then its tip went down a half foot. The ten with her circled the staff shoulder to shoulder and prepared to defend themselves and the staff. To the center, grasp the staff, she directed the two women.
The Dark Master stood surrounded by his exiles. She watched him order a third of his exiles back to the trail to stop the Nevaens while sending every other exile except those protecting him to attack Areenna.
When they stood next to the staff, Areenna released her grip, turned, and reached for her sword, knowing her bow would be useless in close fighting. Her hand stopped an inch before she touched the sword. There was only one chance. She raised her hands, drew back her arms and shoulders. “Drop the shield… now!” she shouted. Akassia and Laira released their shield before Areenna’s words died.
Drawing up the power the Eight had gifted her with and combining Mikaal’s incredible powers too, she slammed her hands together and sent out a massive surge of energy. Before it reached the exiles, the Dark Master responded with a sweep of his arm. The rippling force stopped before it reached the first exile.
Without hesitating at her failure, Areenna freed her sword and prepared for battle. “Shield!” she told the two women.
The shield went up. Areenna hoped against hope it would be enough protection from the Dark Master’s powers, as they fought his distorted minions. All thought left when the exile leading the charge reached them and swung a long axe at her head.
She stepped forward, ducked beneath the axe, and plunged her sword into his chest. He fell as she stepped back into the circle and blocked a sword stroke from the next onrushing fighter.
Next to her, Mikaal fought two more. She swung at another, slicing his arm. His sword fell from numbed fingers and the two exiles behind him pushed him down and stepped over him. The small circle of defenders was being pushed back as the overwhelming force continued to press against all. She joined with Mikaal, and working together moved their swords in patterns eyes could not follow. Their swords, blurring in wide sweeps, took down exile after exile.
Yet the oncoming rush of the Dark Master’s fighters continued. To her left, one of the Six fell and they closed the circle. Another fell, two away from Mikaal. We cannot withstand this for much longer, came Mikaal’s thought.
We must, Areenna shot back. We have to hold.
On her left, Trebor stumbled under an attack. From within the circle, Akassia screamed. Laira, seeing Trebor fall to one knee, raised her arm. Her aoutem leapt from her arm and struck Trebor’s attacker in the face, its long teeth sinking into an eye. The exile screamed and grabbed at the ret. Laira’s aoutem bent in half and plunged its inch long razor-sharp teeth into the man’s hand. He screamed again and Trebor, regaining his feet, put his sword through the exile’s heart.
The Dark Master’s troops forced them into a tighter and tighter circle within which they could now barely move their arms to defend themselves. Then, exploding within her head came a single word: Hold!
Areenna recognized the touch instantly. Hold, the silent voice repeated. In the face of the oncoming madness of the exiles, Areenna raised her sword, reversed it and jammed it tip first into the ground. Next to her, Mikaal did the same. With one hand on their swords, they clasped
their free hands together. When their hands and minds joined, Areenna’s blue-white light melded with Mikaal’s yellow orange fire. Then, a sheet of flames, not yellow, not red, not orange, but deep blue, encircled the remaining Nevaens with a barrier of pure energy.
The Dark Master’s fighters stopped short. Behind them, the Master drew himself to his full height, his mouth forming words no one could hear. From around him, came mist twisting like a rising whirlpool.
Hold, came Enaid’s insistent thought.
The energy needed to maintain the wall was draining them and Areenna’s powers began to fade as the Dark Master released the gray mist at them. The gray mist did not simply strike the protection Areenna and Mikaal had created, it snaked along the ground weaving through the exile warriors before it rose from the ground to create a second wall. Slowly, the mist, particle by particle touched the blue wall of fire. A heartbeat later, both the blue and gray were gone, and those who remained in the circle were without protection. A loud roar came from the throats of the exiles who charged forward.
We cannot hold. Mikaal’s thought came, and with it, all the emotions he had been containing since the day he had met Areenna. Those emotions burst through to her, caught her unprepared, and strangely, rebuilt her waning strength.
I will not lose you, she told him. Not now, not ever! She swung her sword at the face looming before her. The exile ducked beneath the blow and countered. As his sword descended at her head, she knew she could not stop it. Then, suddenly, the exile lifted into the air and pitched backwards. A long wailing scream poured from his mouth.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw another attacker almost on top of Mikaal. Before she could move, Gaalrie descended and struck the exile, knocking him forward, impaling him on Mikaal’s sword.
Then the impossible had happened; the shouts of oncoming fighters filled the air.