by V K Majzlik
Baffled but relieved by the sudden retreat of the karzon, the rest of the group composed themselves, preparing for another attack.
“They will not return tonight!” Nymril called, still trying to squeeze herself from under the dead body. Her fellow travellers had not noticed her pinned to the ground. Guiltily Eilendan ran forward, and with the others, heaved the body off. Relieved, the elf breathed heavily, clutching her chest as if she could still feel the crushing weight. Jaidan stood looking out across the marshes for any sign of their enemy’s return, his bow strung ready.
“It’s gone!” Nymril panted, shouting above the loud rain. “They have no reason to attack us anymore. We are not worth the effort.”
“What do you mean it’s gone?” demanded Gaular, wincing as he inspected his impaled calf, wiping off the smeared mud.
“You sent it away, didn’t you.” Eilendan was trying to make sense of Nymril’s ramblings as he began to check her bruised arm.
She looked at him. “Yes!” Sighing, she pulled her arm out of his hands.
“What do you mean? Where is it?” demanded Gomel, stamping his feet in frustration, his hands flailing wildly in the air still clutching his axes.
“I sent it to safety.”
“But you don’t know where?”
She shook her head with a look of a small nervous child, water dripping from her long hair and pale face.
The sound of thunder had now passed over them, travelling somewhere else, carried quickly by the strong wind. It took with it the rain, which stopped as quickly it had started.
“She doesn’t know where? Then this was all for nothing!” Gaular cursed under his breath as he turned away from the rest of the group, limping and slipping down the grassy mound.
“No, I don’t know where yet, but I can find it using this.” Carefully, Nymril pulled out a small, delicately engraved object that dangled on a fine silver chain about her neck. Her cold hand shook, still dripping with rainwater. “This will guide us to it.”
“Omph! It looks very pretty, but what exactly is it?” demanded Gomel sarcastically.
“It’s an aeonthel.” With her small fingers she pressed the clasp at the side, and the silver orb snapped open. They group watched as the fine, silver circles magically began to lift from inside the object, spinning intricately around each other faster and faster. A faint glow appeared to emanate from the centre, the intensity increasing with the rings’ speed.
“It’s not too far away.” Nymril sounded confident. “The light will grow brighter the closer we get.”
“We should leave now,” suggested Eilendan.
His fellow travellers immediately agreed.
“Jaidan, see if you can find the horses, I’ll come with you. Gomel, start packing up the camp, and gather any arrows that are not broken, they may be useful. Gaular, tend to your leg.”
Eilendan followed Jaidan, leaving Nymril to find a bearing with her aeonthel.
Chapter 11 - Heavenly Fireball
Nechan had taken several hours to calm down after his irritated eruption at Cradon, but eventually neither brother could bear the silence any longer. They spent the next two days riding at a gentle pace, keeping to the woody back lanes, their conversation an amalgamation of trivial things. The topic of home or family was strictly avoided, although both boys dwelled on it at night. Already they seemed so far away from the safety of everything they had ever known.
Thankfully, the ride was pleasant, with gentle scenery and easy riding. More importantly, they did not see a single person. The woody track continued for miles, its dusty path winding gently through the sunlit trees. The overhead canopy was shades of green intermingled with autumnal amber and crimson. Invisible birds sang high overhead while squirrels leapt back and forth among the branches, now and then descending to rummage in the leaf litter for the nuts and roots. It was strange to see something so innocent when their minds were filled with threats and an unknown future.
“Perhaps we should think about stopping?” Nechan suggested. “It will be easier to make camp while its still light.” The sun had already started to sink below the tree line, flooding the wood with its orange hues. “I think I see a clearing up ahead.”
Cradon strained his eyes in the direction Nechan was pointing. “Well, if you think so. It looks like we’re just surrounded by a sea of trees to me. But I’m happy to camp anywhere.”
He was amenable to any decision made by his brother; it was easier than trying to come up with suggestions himself. Fun-loving and generally carefree, it was not in Cradon’s nature to worry or even plan ahead. His brother, however, was far more sensible and realistic.
The brothers were surprised when they approached what they thought was a clearing. Before them lay a beautiful expanse of crystal blue water. The lake was perfectly still, reflecting the autumn hues of the trees along the shoreline. Neither of them had any idea of this lake’s existence, nor was it marked on the map. They must have travelled deeper and further into the woods than they realised. It was picturesque, seemingly untouched by the outside world. The twins felt as though they were the first people to look upon this lake.
After travelling a few hundred metres around the shoreline they found a sheltered, white sandy beach, a perfect site to make camp. Cradon volunteered to find firewood, much at Nechan’s surprise, while he made a crude fishing line to catch their evening meal. Still following their father’s advice, the boys were trying to conserve their rations by fishing and hunting when possible.
A few hours later, the sun had completely dipped behind the hills, the first stars were starting to twinkle high in the night sky and the half moon was gliding into position. Sitting around the crackling campfire, the boys slowly turned the small brown trout that Nechan had caught. The scaly skin bubbled and sizzled above the fiery heat, filling the sheltered camp with a satisfying aroma.
“What do you think father said to the soldiers?” Cradon was sat cross-legged on his bedroll, picking at his scolding hot fish. He did not see the shocked look his brother threw him across the fire. Nechan did not answer, not wanting to even think about the consequences of their actions.
“Well? We have to talk about this at some point!”
Nechan lay back, throwing the remains of his fish into the hot ashes. He sighed, looking up at the starry night sky. Finally he spoke. “I’m sure he managed to talk his way out of it. He probably sent them off in the other direction.”
“Do you really think so?”
“No! I just hope so, for the sakes of our mother and sister.” Nechan sat up to look at his brother through the dancing flames rubbing his furrowed brow. “Do you think we did the right thing?”
Cradon choked as he tried to stifle a laugh. “You know that I was never sure. Running away was never something our father taught us. But, he seemed so positive……” he trailed off, throwing the bony skeleton of his fish into the fire.
“We’ll be fine. We have each other.” With a tone of reassurance, Nechan stared at his brother, who was sitting cross-legged, flicking the sand between his feet.
“Did I say I was worried?” A smile crept across Cradon’s face, matched by a mischievous look in his blue eyes.
Ignoring it, Nechan lay on his back, looking up again at the stars that now littered the evening sky. As he watched, a dark veil of clouds slowly drifted across, blotting out the night jewels. Nechan shivered, feeling the wind whip around him, picking up speed. It felt like rain was coming.
Unexpectedly, he was slapped in the face by a handful of grainy sand, thrown by his brother. Nechan rolled back over, shaking the dirt from his blonde hair, only to see his brother cheekily beaming. Cradon was now standing, goading his brother, laughing hysterically.
“What are you going to do about it?” he jeered, changing positions so he was crouching, ready for any attack his brother may launch in retaliation. Almost catlike, Nechan sprang over the fire, with all his might and full body weight behind him. He fell on Cradon, and the two of them
tussled, trying to pin the other brother to the ground, or wrestle him into a headlock. Although it was friendly play fighting, they were both strong, and were summoning all of their strength to put the other one down.
They rolled back and forth, playfully, knocking saddlebags out of the way, narrowly missing the fire several times. The horses behind them stamped their hooves, staring wide-eyed at the mass of wriggling, flailing limbs, intermingled with shouts and yelps.
In a tangled ball, they rolled into the icy, cold water, continuing to wrestle. Their laughter carried across the lake, echoing in the silence all around them. Managing to find a tight hold on his brother, Cradon kicked water into his brother’s defenceless face.
“Stop, I give in! You win!” Nechan coughing and spluttered, as Cradon loosened his grip. Together, they fell back into the water, laughing at how much like little kids they were. It was a much-needed release of tension.
“Rematch?”
“Give me a moment! You nearly drowned me!!”
“Chicken?” Cradon flapped his elbows and waddled back and forth in the water, clucking; the ultimate insult. At this taunt, Nechan launched himself at Cradon once again, managing to force his head under the water.
The twins were suddenly started by a loud noise above them that sounded thunderclap. A white fireball streaked across the night sky, cutting through the overlying cloud, blazing a trail that lingered in the air for several minutes. It plummeted into the far side of the lake with a roaring crash that sent waves across the serene surface. The twins stopped, still kneeling in the shallow water, unsure whether there was going to be anything else.
Even from this distance they could easily where it had landed. The water seemed to glow with a strange light, clearly visible, despite the churning, boiling currents formed by the heat of the unknown, heavenly object. Neither twin was able to get a word out; they were both speechless, still panting heavily from their tussle. The burning light subsided after a few moments, and the lake returned to its calm, tranquil state. All around them the trees were alive with the sound of alarmed animals and birds that had been awoken by the commotion.
“What was that?” Cradon stood staring at the place where the fireball had hit, water dripping from his drenched clothes and hair.
“I don’t know….” Nechan had not moved either, a puzzled expression on his face. They were both stunned into silence.
“Do you want to…”
“Go and find out?”
They looked at each other, excited by the identical thought. It was obvious that their curiosity would drive them crazy and keep them awake, unless they went to investigate.
After settling the two horses who were still agitated from all the hubbub, they packed up the camp, doused the fire and started picking their way around the shoreline. Their clothes were still damp, and the wind was wrapping its wintry fingers around them, making the material cling like a second skin.
After nearly two hours of tripping over slippery rocks, and falling into freezing pools, they made it round the edge of the lake to the collision area. The water had returned to its serene state, with only the wind disturbing the mirrored surface. Disappointed that there was nothing to help them search further, they reluctantly realised that there was nothing more they could do that night.
The morning choir of birds in the surrounding trees woke Cradon early. The sky was a dismal grey, and it was clear the sun would not be making an appearance that day.
Looking over, he could see Nechan was still slumbering soundly. Try as he might, Cradon could not get back to sleep. The yearning thoughts to search the water played endlessly on his mind. When he could bear it no longer, he crept past his brother, walking as quietly as possible on the crunching sand towards the water’s edge. It was bitterly cold, combined with a pleasing, cleansing sensation as it lapped over the tips of his toes. Braving it, slipping off his cream tunic, Cradon took a deep breath and began wading into the water, stopping every few steps for his skin to acclimatise. Eventually, he was chest-deep and forced to swim.
Visualising where he remembered the object falling, Cradon swam out some distance and started to tread water. Looking below him, even in the dim light, it was crystal clear enough to see the gritty bottom of the lake. Placing his face into the water, he swam, studying the floor, searching for anything that looked out of place.
After several more searches in between deep breaths, he finally found something of interest. At first he doubted what he had seen, but upon checking several more times, Cradon was certain. Lying amongst the grit in a small, shallow crater was what looked like a silver orb. Positive his eyes were not deceiving him, he inhaled deeply and dived down to the lake floor. Clearing away the grit and sand he quickly uncovered the entire object. Clutching it tightly to his chest with his left hand, he resurfaced and swam back towards to the shoreline, surprised by how light the object was.
Nechan slowly woke from his deep sleep and yawned widely before rolling over to perceive his brother. He had to rub his eyes again, at first confused by what he saw. In an instant, as soon as the realisation dawned on him, he was filled with raging anger. Why did Cradon not wake him?
Cradon, still shirtless, his skin goose-pimpled, was crouched over an object, studying it intensely. At first he was unaware of Nechan standing over him, his eyes smouldering with the fury of deceit.
“Nechan, you’re awake, come look. It’s amazing!” Without taking his eyes of the enchanting object, he beckoned his brother closer.
With the first glance Nechan also found himself drawn to its strange, mesmerising beauty. Quickly forgetting his anger and disappointment, he crouched down next to Cradon, scrutinising the sphere more closely.
It was only about a hand’s width, with a delicate, silvery hue that seemed to glow faintly. Peering deep into it, the brothers could almost make out swirling mists trapped inside. Its perfectly spherical outer skin was warm to the touch and covered in intricate etchings in what looked like finely inlayed silver. The markings appeared to be a language. Somehow, they knew unmistakably that this was an item of great power, perhaps even magic, but who made it, and where did it come from?
It dawned on Nechan that he had seen similar engravings before. Grabbing one his saddlebags, he rummaged around and found the small box Barnon had given him. Kneeling down again by the orb, Nechan snapped open the box and carefully removed the silver artefact on its chain. He was right. The etchings did appear to be the same as those on the orb.
Holding it in his palm, he gently pressed the clasp, popping open the delicately engraved lid. His hands began to shake nervously, as before their eyes the item appeared to spring to life. Small, silver rings lifted from the base and began spinning and weaving around each other. They gained speed, and a light began to glow in the centre of the sphere formed by the rings. Nechan instinctively held it out towards the orb. The rings span faster, and the light emitted grew to a blinding brightness. He pulled it away again, as he shielded his eyes, and the light appeared to dim and spinning rings slow.
“That’s……..”
“…amazing!” Nechan finished Cradon’s sentence. They were both almost speechless at their discovery. Not only had they found a strange silver globe that had fallen from the sky, but the object that Barnon had passed onto them seemed to be related.
“They must have been made by the same people, don’t you think?” Nechan scratched his head and sat back, still staring back and forth at the orb and then the artefact in his palm. “I wish Barnon could see this.” He smiled, knowing how excited his old friend would have been with this discovery. Could it be that all his tales were in fact true?
Together they sat for what seemed like hours, unable to draw themselves away from the two spheres, not even to make breakfast. Out of nowhere, a bleak thought crept into Nechan’s mind. “Do you think someone will be looking for this?”
“What?”
“Well, something like this must be valuable….really valuable. I don’t think someon
e would just let it go without wanting to find it again.”
“Brother, you may be right.”
They were both suddenly subdued at this thought, and sat back in the sand looking at each other. Should they try and return it? But who to? And where? There were so many questions flooding their heads.
“I think we should leave here shortly. If someone is looking for this, I am not sure how happy they would be to find us with it.”
The twins were filled with a strange sense of urgency to abandon camp. It was as if the drab, stormy skies above heralded the approach of a threatening danger. With great care and under the intense supervision of Nechan, Cradon wrapped the silver orb up in one of his woollen blankets and stashed it securely in a saddlebag. Nechan hung Barnon’s artefact around his neck for safekeeping.
They packed up their camp quickly and then doused the smouldering embers of their fire, scattering the ashes to hide the evidence. Deciding to continue travelling east, they left the beach in pristine condition, untouched, just as they had found it.
Chapter 12 – The Race Was On
“My Lords, I request your guidance.” The hooded karzon stared fixedly into the murky contents of a crude bowl: the scoured-out skull of an animal. Taking a small glass vial from around his bony, wizened neck, he added several drops of blood. Then he waited for a response.
After their first failed attempt at recapturing the Aeonorgal, they were now forced to make a report and seek the advice of their masters, the Rjukhan. Vlandac, the leader, watched as the dark liquid in the skull began to swirl and steam. Gradually, a distant, shadowy image began to take shape.
“What news do you bring before this council, Vlandac?” A harsh, raspy voice had answered their call. It echoed in small, pulsating ripples across the concoction’s surface.
Vlandac, the karzon leader, was a respected member of the council of the Empire and he stood nearly a foot taller than the other karzon, who themselves dwarfed normal clansmen. Like all karzon, he was dressed in black from head to toe and about his shoulders, a sign of his rank, he wore the pelts of two black foxes, complete with stuffed heads, their dead, yellow eyes staring lifelessly while their white fangs still grimaced.