by V K Majzlik
“The Aeonorgal was taken from my very grasp,” Vlandac hissed, still visualising his outstretched hand just before the elf transported it somehow. He felt the writhing failure in the pit of his stomach, and did not enjoy having to bring such news to the council.
“Failure?” the voice shouted. The ripples deepened and the bowl vibrated in Vlandac’s hands. “You come before the council and speak of failure?”
“My Lord the Elven Star will be returned. But, perhaps you can impart your guidance.” The karzon waited, almost breathless with the anticipation of punishment. The liquid in the bowl was motionless, signallng silence at the other end.
Vlandac closed his eyes with relief momentarily when the voice returned.
“You are to ride west until you sense its power. It is no longer cloaked from our vision nor your senses.”
“Perhaps my Lord, it would be wise to dispatch further forces.”
There was silence, so Vlandac continued.
“I believe one of the ambushers was an Aeon Elf. The travellers are all strong, skilful with their weapons, and now even more wary of our approach.”
The distant council contemplated Vlandac’s words. It was now clear how much they had underestimated the strength and cunning of the Elves and their allies.
“What of the uzgen?”
“We came across the remains of its body, but no others. To slay it, they must have used the Aeon power.”
A scream of rage emanated from the liquid, making the fluid jump and spit as it boiled even more ferociously. The skull began to shudder, but Vlandac resisted the mpulse to drop it.
“We will send support. They will meet you. Do not disappoint this council again.”
The black liquid cleared instantly, the surface now calm and almost mirror-like. Vlandac turned to his fellow karzon. “Find me some marsh rats, now!” he shouted.
The other karzon scattered in all directions, their blades drawn, probing the ground for burrows and holes. The squirming rodents screamed as they were cornered, pinned down by black, heavy boots and skewered by blades. They flung the dead, furry bodies at Vlandac’s feet until their number equalled their own.
The karzon were still without mounts, having been unable to find the khalit that had fled from the burning, white light of the Aeonorgal. No doubt they had become trapped in the mud, eventually suffocating. Vlandac knew how to solve the problem quickly.
Picking up the first rat, he allowed drops of its warm blood to trickle onto his palm. Vlandac then flung the dead rodent a small distance away, watching its body slowly sink into the oozing mud. He did the same with the other rats. Rubbing their blood on his palm he muttered an incantation, Yurch dranu stovailk, over and over again, chanting monotonously. The other karzon took a step back, watching expectantly, as their leader conducted his ritualistic sorcery. Within moments, the night sky became shrouded in clouds, its stars and moon erased by a inky veil.
“Now we wait!” commanded Vlandac.
The ground started to tremble and the air vibrate, the pulse emanating from where the dead rodents had been cast onto the mud. All the karzon began chanting the black mantras, not even pausing when bolts of lightning struck each site where a furry body lay.
Silence fell, even the ground stopped quaking. They watched as the ground seemed to heave and moan, its surface pulsate. The mud began to crack as long thrashing legs broke through, dragging wet, glistening bodies behind them. Using the Earth Magic taught by the Rjukhan, Vlandac had created new rides for them. Being of black magic, these horses were not the normal beasts of the land. They were devilish conjurations, taller, stronger and faster, their eyes jet black and soulless. These animals were just as dark and terrifying as the masters who would now ride them.
Mounting the animals bareback and finding their bearings, using the stars in the night sky that was once again clear, the karzon began riding fast into the west, towards their goal, as their council had advised.
The karzon were not the only ones who now travelled west. Guided by Nymril’s aeonthel, the comrades too had discovered that the Aeonorgal lay somewhere to the west. They could only follow the growing light of Nymril’s instrument. Tired and aching from the night’s ambush, their clothes still cold and damp, they were finding it hard to keep riding, however they knew they must press on. If they could track it from its emanating power,d so could the enemy.
“Omph!” grunted Gomel. “I’m still confuse!”
“Arghhhh! Why, Gomel? I have already tried to explain it to you!” snapped Nymril.
“Nymril, the Aeonorgal whisked itself away, at your command? Just like that?” Gomel rubbed the temples of his balding head as he tried to absorb and make sense of the elf’s explanation.
“Yes! As I said the last time you asked exactly the same question!” She would have been shouting at him had she had the energy to do so.
“Gnome, why can’t you just accept it!” Gaular was feeling the burning pain in his calf from where the arrow had struck. After closer inspection, it became clear that the arrowhead must have been poisoned. Thankfully, Gaular’s body was large and strong enough to resist the death that the miasma should normally bring. His large muscle mass would hopefully absorb most of the toxin, but he was still left terribly weakened, and felt sick to his stomach. He could feel the poison working its way through the veins of his leg, eating away at the flesh inside.
“So, it’s basically a self defence?” the gnome persisted.
Sighing heavily she replied, “Yes! Yes! As I keep saying!”
“Then tell me this, if you knew this was possible, then why didn’t the Elves do that two hundred years ago? It would have saved us all a lot of trouble, not to mention a number of lives!” There was an angry, frustrated tone in Gomel’s voice.
“Well, it might be powerful, but that power has to be commanded and wielded. It cannot conduct magic itself, it doesn’t work like that. Those that guarded it must have been slain before they…………” her voice trailed off, knowing that Gomel spoke the truth. She was struggling though, every breath hurting. Her chest still felt as though it were in the clutches of a vice, her bruised ribs limiting her breathing. It was as if she could feel the weight of the karzon upon her. With every movement of her horse she winced in pain.
“That’s enough!” Eilendan rode up between Gomel and Nymril. “We are all exhausted. There is no point trying to go on any further in this state.” He leaned in towards Nymril. “Are you in a lot of pain?” Eilendan whispered.
She nodded, holding her side with one hand, the pain making her bite her lower lip.
Taking Nymril’s reins from her hand he began to lead her white horse. “I wish there was something I could do to help. We will stop as soon as we find somewhere appropriate.”
Nymril flopped forward, her head resting on Sonda’s neck, letting her arms fall down either side. In this position she was able to steady her body and flow with Sonda’s movement, helping to ease the pain. “Thank you,” she whispered, smiling at Eilendan.
“You’d have done the same.”
Her pale cheeks blushed slightly, but she knew her comrade required no response., Her breathing slightly easier, Nymril closed her eyes and fell into a light doze, her thoughts swarming with the recent, troubling events.
Eilendan guided Sonda carefully between the rocks and small pools that were scattered along their path, ensuring a smooth ride for Nymril as she slept.
The pair had met two hundred years earlier, just before the battle of Andkhuin. As a captain in the Elven army, he and his small battalion of Aeonates had been assigned to protect Nymril. From the moment they had met, there was an instant bond and understanding between them. He had saved Nymril from the clutches of death, carrying her away unconscious, as he and his men escaped with the other survivors from the battle.
In the following months he had nursed her, while the two of them remained hidden high in
the mountains, avoiding the Empire’s patrols. She struggled not only with her wounds, but also her body’s withdrawal. With the Aeonorgal captured, her Earth Spirit battled at first to sustain itself and Nymril’s body. Eventually that subsided, and she trained her body to cope without the Earth power, until she was strong enough to travel with Eilendan in search of others. During this time they became close friends, and since then had not parted company.
Jaidan rode up swiftly, his dirty green cloak billowing out behind him, returning from scouting the lie of the land ahead with the help of Khar. She sat balanced on his shoulder, preening her feathers.
“Did you see anything?” queried Eilendan eagerly.
“Nothing. Only clouds, and the edge of the marshes. It looks as though we are heading for more woodland.” He was edgy, keen to get under cover, his thick eyebrows frowning with concern.
The comrades were still picking their way across the vast, seemingly endless expanse of the Kethnor Marshes. After leaving the dry, grassy mound, they had been forced to wade through the mud, but after several hours of travelling westwards, they were able to mount their horses once more and travel more quickly. The ground, though still muddy, was not as boggy, and the pools were now few and far between, making their going much easier. Thankfully the stench had also begun to fade.
“Woodland would be a welcomed break,” Eilenden decided. “We’re all exhausted. How far away?”
“We should reach it by nightfall but only if we maintain this pace.” Jaden looked over at Nymril who still slept, her white hair draping around her face, framing it. Everyone was now nursing injuries or aching muscles of some sort, unfortunately it was their strongest who were suffering the most.
Jaidan took another look at Nymril, but knowing there was nothing he could do for her without stopping, urged his horse forward to ride alongside Gomel and Gaular.
“How’s the leg?” Carefully, he unwrapped a section of the bandage, both patient and carer remaining on horseback. Gaular winced, clenching his jaw as he tried to hide the pain.
“I’m alive at least!” Gaular growled, trying to steady himself as he felt another wave of nausea pass. Beads of sweat dripped down his black brow.
“When we stop, I will dress it again. I have some leaves that might help counteract the flesh rot, but it is spreading quickly. It would be easier if we knew what they used, if only you hadn’t discarded the arrow head.”
The orange sun was sinking by the time the comrades could see the faint line of woodlands stretching across the horizon. They were heartened at the thought of cover and hopefully rest, even the horses picked up their pace. However, it still took them an hour to reach the trees, and the whole day had nearly passed by, with the night starting to draw in. Thankfully, neither Jaidan nor Khar had seen any signs of the pursuing enemy. However, this could mean that they were somewhere ahead, closer to finding the Aeonorgal.
Nymril sensed it had not yet been found. She could still feel its pure power surging through her veins, a sure sign that the Spirit Star had not been tainted by the touch of the karzon or their black magic. They were also encouraged to see that the light of the aeonthel around Nymril’s neck had grown brighter over the day, a definite sign they were travelling in the right direction.
Chapter 13 – Tavor
Until now, the boys had been fortunate with the weather, but since the previous night, the heavy storm clouds had made good on their threats. The track they were following had become a slimy swamp of mud and mushy leaves, and although they were still travelling through the woods, the scantily clad canopy provided little cover. Both Cradon and Nechan were miserable. The clothes on their back were soaked through, and even the belongings they carried were sodden. They spoke little, their low thoughts about leaving home compounded by the deplorable weather.
The rain and thunder had continued all morning, finally petering out to misty drizzle by late afternoon. The sun struggled to make an appearance, slowly burning through the grey veil of clouds.
Despite the rain, Nechan’s hand kept wandering upwards, handling the silver orb that hung around his neck. It had become strangely warm to the touch as if something inside was fuelling it. Cradon too, would often fumble in his saddlebag, checking his secret was still secure. They were both discrete, feeling as if eyes spied upon them from all directions. Something told them it was vital these items were protected, although neither twin understood why.
“Do you know where we are?” Cradon shook his wet red mop again, trying to shed some of the water.
They had come across several forks in the road, and each time chose the one that looked less travelled. Their current track was now no more than an overgrown path, winding through the trees. The horses often stumbled on stray roots and brambles that trailed across the path, made worse as they slid about in the mud.
“To be honest, I really don’t know. Not one of these lanes is marked on any of the maps Barnon gave us.”
“Well at least we haven’t run into anyone yet! Why don’t we rest for a while? The rain seems to have stopped, for a bit at least.”
Nechan agreed, and led Danfur onto a small, grassy knoll. He took out the maps, pleased to see that although they were damp, the ink had not run. Crouched together, holding the parchments out, the twins once again tried to make sense of the scrawled letters and markings. The problem was, they had no idea how far they had travelled, as they were inexperienced at gauging distance covered when riding.
Sighing, Cradon rolled onto his back, not caring about the wet grass beneath him. He stared up at the sparse, red canopy, watching the occasional dead leaf slowly fall to the ground, listening to the sound of dripping raindrops. Nechan continued to study the maps, flipping between the different ones.
“I just can’t tell where we are. If I could see the lie of the land, maybe then I could get my bearings.” Nechan scratched his head again. “It would help if I could see some landmarks that I could identify. I don’t even know how close we are to the mountains.”
Nechan looked over at his brother, hoping for some kind of participation or solace. Instead, Cradon just continued watching the spiralling leaves, holding out his tongue to catch drops of water. This frustrated Nechan. Why did it always have to fall on his shoulders? Why couldn’t his brother take something seriously for once?
Cradon had always had the fun with Nechan trailing behind to clear up the mess left in his brother’s wake. He was the mischievous twin, and always had been, even as a young boy. If he was not stealing freshly baked pies from the bakery, he was spying on girls down at the lake, and it was always Nechan who ended up sorting things out.
Cradon looked deep in thought, as if he did not have a care in the world. All of a sudden, he sat bolt upright.
“I have an idea!” he said excitedly, barely able to get his words out quickly enough. Springing up, he ran over to the nearest tree, and started inspecting the lower branches. “No, this won’t work,” he mumbled to himself as he hopped over to a second, then a third tree. “Ah ha! This…..I can work with!” He stood proudly, his hands raised, showing his brother the tree.
“Please, Cradon, this is not helping!” Nechan looked at his brother despairingly, shaking the maps at him, trying to understand what was going through is brother’s head.
“I’m going to climb up and have a look round for you! I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before!” Cradon laughed. He was amazed he had been the one to come up with such a simple answer to their problems rather than his brother
Cradon shook the lower branches first, producing a shower of water, after which he jumped up, holding onto the lowest branch with both hands. He swung his legs in the air like a pendulum trying to get up the momentum to swing them around the branch. Like a spider monkey he hung upside down, blood rushing to his freckled face.
Slowly but surely he shuffled round the branch, struggling to keep a grip on the wet, slimy bark, until he was upright. Delicately, he found his balance, using the trunk of the tree t
o steady himself, and slowly he stood up, reaching for the next branch. He continued to use the same method, until finally he was almost lost from view amongst the remaining canopy. Leaves and water showered Nechan as he waited patiently, quietly impressed with his brother’s agile climbing.
“Can you see anything yet?” he shouted up.
“No, not at the moment! Whoops!!” There was a loud crack and a tumbling rustle. “Nechan, you might want to take a couple of steps back!”
Nechan was pleased he jumped out the way, just in time, as a large branch came crashing down, narrowly missing him.
“I don’t think I can go any higher, but this view is amazing! You should see it!!” The voice sounded muffled high above him.
“You know I don’t like heights!” Nechan had not dared climb a tree since he fell out of one when he was five. Even though he did not break any bones, his confidence and pride had been seriously dented. He was quite content to watch his brother do all the hard work. Nechan had the brains, while Cradon had the brawn.
“So, what can you actually see? Any landmarks I can work from? A river? The mountains?” Nechan knelt over the map, waiting for his brother’s response.
“The mountains are off to the left, but they’re a long way away. We seem to have been travelling parallel to them. I can’t see anything else though! Sorry!”
It was not really much help at all. Nechan stared at the map blankly. It was clear they could be anywhere in the vast mass of woodlands surrounding the foot of the long chain of mountains.
“Hey! Wait! I can’t be sure, but I think there is a farm up ahead!”
“A farm? There isn’t one marked anywhere. Are you sure?”