by Reja Emran
She gazed at him, too weary to speak but still pride forced her sit up as she could not bear being helpless and Aniah held Cyrillon’s hand, gently moving it away. The ends of his mouth twitched as he watched her movements with amusement and then he pushed her back to the bark of the tree, hindering her painful efforts to get up. Aniah glanced quickly at him and a fire flashed in her eyes but she swallowed her regal pride and knew that she should not try anymore attempts of movement for the agony was too much to bear. Wincing as she lay back, her eyes again swept Cyrillon’s anxious face and noted the changes that had come to his bold features, which now were handsomely rugged; shaped according to the land in which he traveled and in the conditions in which he had survived as he had ventured through marshes, bleak valleys, deserted slopes and waterless hills if the rumors were correct. She understood why he did this; it was to find peace in the emptiness of these lands and to find fulfillment in the vastness of the plain savannas. She had known him for a long time now and still she wondered at the reason behind this endless quest for obtaining solitude. Aniah had never asked him and she knew he would never tell her, not because he didn’t want to but because it was hard for him to explain. He had changed much since she had last seen him except for his unfathomable eyes that were veiled and secretive.
Her gaze lingered awhile on his concerned face and then fell on the sword that lay besides him. It was the Jade-Silver sword of Luminon, one of the best crafts by the Elentians and Aniah traced the markings on the steel blade and was proud of Cyrillon as he was on of the few who had been entrusted with this sword. Her eyes fell heavy but she kept them open. She wanted to speak to Cyrillon for they were meeting after so long but her weakness overtook her body and even looking at him was an effort.
The Elentian knelt towards her weapons, scrubbing of the dried crusts of blood from their surfaces with water from the river. Finally, he finished and placed the armaments next to Aniah. Tucking his own sword back into his belt, Cyrillon took a seat adjacent to the Guardian against the tree stump.
“Where is Fiera?” she inquired.
“She is unconscious. I threw her into the river,” he replied and then turning his head to her, “Is the pain gone?”
Aniah shook her head and then heard a soft neigh. “Is that Khazdul?”
“Yes,” his answer was clipped. Aniah looked sharply at him to see that his eyes were crinkled in a smile as he watched her irritated expression because of his monotonous answers. He knew she wished to speak but also knew of the cost on her health.
With a small smile, Cyrillon brushed away loose strands of hair from her face and watched her changing expressions. She returned him a quick smile to conceal her irritation and then laid her head to rest on his shoulders. After a few silent moments, Cyrillon gently moved Aniah’s head off his shoulders and she snapped her eyes open and passed him a questioning look.
Cyrillon subsequently stood up and clutched his sword hilt, still in the scabbard. “You must rest. I am going to scout the area. I will be back before dark.” With that Cyrillon ventured into the woods, his cloak trailing the ground as he moved deep into the jungle of trees, leaving behind the Guardian.
Aniah watched his departing figure and then said a silent prayer before falling into a slumber on the soft grounds of the river bank, her head resting against her cloak. She had brought her sword close to her self as she slept.
Her heart, for the moment, was at peace as she heard the chirping of the birds around her and the gushing of the river as it flowed down the valleys of the jungle. She let all thoughts of Fiera leave her mind so that she could have a moment of peace and that peace was a gift she treasured unlike the gift she had received from the blade of the fallen Guardian. It was a gift that would leave a scar on her for a long time to come.
It was a scar which would heal slowly.
~ Chapter Six ~
A fragrant breeze blew near the cave and it shook the fragile branches of the colossal trees. The sun was at its peak, radiating warmth through the transparent blue sky.
Julian and Xia both were seated outside the cave, on a stone slab near the altar and Xia was shivering in her thin red blouse as the wind touched her wounds. She had told her friend of the dream but Julian just discarded it as a nightmare until Xia showed her the gashes on her shoulders. The Magicka was appalled and half-heartedly agreed not to tell anyone anything of the dream until nothing was certain although she insisted on putting a medicine on the cuts. She didn’t understand it herself. How could a nightmare leave marks, it was impossible.
“Are you feeling cold?” asked Julian and without waiting for a reply, “Here you can take my sweater.” Removing her white sweater, she handed it to her friend. It was not a gesture of courtesy, it was concern.
“Thanks…what about you?” inquired Xia as she put on the warm sweater and pulled up the collar to hide the fading cuts. She pulled her lustrous black hair from under the sweater and let them fall to her back.
“My dress is warm. I’ll be fine.” Julian fixed her auburn hair, freeing them of the tangles from the wind.
Xia just gave a short nod followed by a deep sigh. Her mind was now troubled with the discovery near the dragon’s cave where she had seen the panther who she knew now was Axhelius according to a book in Ching’s study and there she had found the emerald stone. “Julian I have to tell you about something.”
“Is it the dream again or the firestone?” asked Julian, recalling the disturbed state Xia had been in when she had rushed back to the cave. The same state she had been in when she told Julian the dream.
“More or less,” said Xia and removed a crystal-clear emerald from her pocket placing it in Julian’s palm, “I found this on my way to the dragon’s cave. It was sparkling and giving off some greenish light. I hoped that you could tell me what it was.”
Julian turned the gem around repeatedly as she studied it, but the wheels in her head were not turning as to her this seemed like a normal gemstone. But the events with Xia had taught her not to jump to conclusions and conscious of her friend’s patient gaze, she continued her scrutiny.
“Xia was this mark there at that time?” questioned Julian, fingering an engraved shape on the emerald. It consisted of three circles, overlapping each other as if in an Olympic flag but only more intricate and exquisitely carved into the polished surface.
“This was from where the light came” explained Xia, tracing the circles in an attempt to remember the event which was left as a hazy memory.
“Hmm…” muttered Julian.
“What is it?”
“Well…” she answered dragging the ‘well’, “I think it is a magical stone. Xia, we have to show Ching this at least.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Umm…because…because it might harm him!” said Xia thinking hurriedly as she didn’t want to fall in Ching’s opinion again by not telling him about the stone sooner.
“You’re just afraid that he’ll scold you. Come on!”
Before Xia could stop her, Julian stood up and jogged into the cave leaving the Annoxonum on the stone slab. Xia scrambled to her feet and bounded in after her, wondering what Ching would say about this.
He’d probably say ‘Shame on you Xia, when will you realize the importance of telling me everything?’
Xia called Julian but her friend had probably already shown Ching the stone and she kept jogging to the house, her pace slower now as she hoped that Ching would condone her mistake of not showing him on time.
***
“Aria!” called Axhelius as he trotted across the marbled floors, “Where are you?”
“Shh…you fool! Come here and be quiet.” Aria whispered angrily from behind the corner of a wall.
“What are you doing?” questioned Axhelius with a sardonic tint in his voice as he saw her pressed against the flat surface of the door. His teeth gleamed as he stared at her comical situation. The Mistress of Nebula is pressed against doors and
looking for conspiracy in her own palace where everyone should be loyal to her or at least fear her. Axhelius shook his head and went closer to the door.
“Of course, I’m eavesdropping, now let me hear.” Aria’s reply was curt and she strained to listen in to the droned conversation followed by Axhelius, who lolled out his tongue in curiosity as he heard the conversation.
“Iguana, are the preparations made?” Vien’s question was more like a command. “Aria must not know anything about it.”
“Of course, My Lord” bowed Iguana, “What will you have me do now?”
“You can go and seal the gates of Nebula?”
“Seal the gates?”
“Yes.”
“May I question why?” asked Iguana gruffly.
“Of course you may Iguana. I do not want any forces to notice the armies inside as some of the kappis have been collecting close by, near the water hole.”
“Kappis? Here? Shall I send a force after them?”
“No. Leave them. I shall not break the neutrality.”
“Yes my Lord. Shall I leave?”
“Yes but send the two guests on your way. They need to witness an event and that will result in some of the witch’s magic. I want to see how powerful she really is.”
Aria immediately moved to a sofa, snapping at Axhelius to act as if he had been sleeping. She had not a clue of what Vien was planning and that made her quite angry. If he is planning a rebellion against me, I’ll make him wish that he was burning in hell. The door opened and Iguana entered the room, a lazy but cynical grin settling across his face as he noticed Aria, a woman he detested much. “You have been summoned.” Announcing that, the demon commander left with heavy strides and an impudent air.
Aria and Axhelius rose and walked to the room, greeted by Vien’s beaming face. “Rested? Good. Now come with me.” Yawning quickly, Aria followed Vien to the chambers and there to her utter surprise, she beheld Annor’s wretched condition. The fairy’s wrists were clamped in manacles and encompassing her were two burly demons, gripping bull whips in their fists.
“Annor! What is the meaning of this?” stormed Aria; her sapphire eyes revealed her fury as she eyed Vien.
“She was plotting murder.” Vien’s eyes frothed angrily, “To murder you.”
“What?” screamed Aria, anger throttling her senses, “Annor, why?”
“No Mistress. The demons forced me to. They threatened to kill me if I did not perform such an action!” insisted Annor.
Aria silently gazed into the depths of her servant’s eyes, placing a spell on her. “Please Mistress, please don’t,” whined Annor fearfully.
“Silence!” Aria spoke quietly, her stormy mood transforming into one of disgust. “You speak false, Annor. You are worse than your predecessor.”
“No. I swear.” Annor pleaded with tears streaming down her face. “Please…believe me.”
“Should we kill her?” questioned Vien and on Aria’s nod, he gestured to Iguana to proceed. He was enjoying this scene but he concealed his amusement for he had filled Annor with the guilt that she had been plotting to kill her Mistress and now he hoped that Aria would intervene in the slaughter of her sprite.
“No. I’ll do it myself.” This claim of Aria’s took all by shock and Iguana, taking the king’s approval, handed the sharpened cleaver to the sorceress. Gripping the leather tightly, Aria walked slowly to Annor, whose eyes had turned a frightful white.
“Aria, are you sure?” inquired Axhelius, bewildered by her actions and the readiness she had displayed into accepting the demon claim.
“Yes.” Her whisper cut like an icy blade through Annor’s heart. Raising the cleaver to the fairy’s neck, she slit it open and to everyone’s surprise, Aria collected the indigo blood in a container. Turning to the demon king, she thrust him the knife and said, “I want her to be clothed in white and be burnt, right now.”
Vien was calm as he knew this was inevitable and likewise told Iguana to go in accordance to the command, who was bewildered by the King’s accurate prediction. While the demons collected wood and piled it in the centre of the ground, Aria ran a finger on Annor’s cut which had now dried up.
“My Lady, the fire is ablaze.” Iguana announced this quietly, with a mocking stare. “Shall we place her body in?”
“Yes…do it quickly” hissed Aria as she swept over the marble floor, her black dress trailing behind her. Annor’s body was positioned on the centre but did not catch fire.
“She is not burning,” muttered Axhelius to no one in particular but the demon on his right grunted.
Aria did not comment as she stared at the sprite’s scrawny body. The sorceress lifted out the container of blood and trickled the indigo liquid on Annor’s chest, following this by an enchantment in a barely audible whisper.
Creatures of the darkness beyond the West,
Aid me in my tedious quest,
Summon for me a hideous beast,
Unlike the rest!
All of a sudden, the blood began to flow towards the slit in Annor’s throat as the fluid re-entered into the sprite’s body. The fire flickered to a ghastly shade of lime with flames curling around the sprite like cords. After a fleeting second, Annor’s figure rose from the depths of the fiery inferno; a figure which had eyes with a startling white sclera and irises darker than the folds of night.
“Rise Annor, may your undead life be at ease.” Aria ended her sentence with a low cackle of satisfaction.
“What madness is this, Aria?” barked Vien, advancing to her side, “You cannot practice this witchcraft in the boundaries of Nebula. You know this rule and the consequences of disobeying it. This is no resurrection, this is purely evil!”
He has no idea that I can even compel him to listen to my every command. The fool! And there he was hiding things from me. In time I shall empty his soul and receive answers. Aria thought, smiling inwardly. She looked into the demon’s startled eyes and placed a jeweled hand on his shoulder. “Do you think I am practicing forbidden witchcraft?” she questioned innocently with a hypnotizing smile, “I am merely restoring my leader. You should welcome her back.”
“Yes” replied Vien, purely in a trance which drew a tight expression from Iguana. “Welcome Annor.” Annor smiled revealing her pointed fangs and gave a little bow before Aria.
“Leave Annor, continue your assigned duties which have been cleared before your rebirth.” Aria gave a quick command and in accordance to it, the fiendish sprite exited the room.
All the while Axhelius sat still, resembling a stone statue studying the sorcery of Aria, which in his conclusion was the greatest form of evil. His wide, amber eyes washed over her hard, piercing expression. He pitied those who had placed themselves against her and wondered what wonders her dark sorcery could create. I can feel Kashya as well. Was she revived in the aftermath of Aria’s magic? Axhelius thought, shuddering at the notion.
His contemplations were shattered by Aria’s voice. “Let’s go Axhelius, I need to retire.” Axhelius followed her as he always had, but unlike before this time he slightly hesitated though he did not know the reason.
And he did not want to know it.
***
Raven flew; his feathers ruffling in the evening breeze and his eyes beheld the setting of the sun as the pink rays were ebbing away, leaving a shimmering imprint for a moment which then dissolved into the approaching darkness. The eagle was headed to the Council for yet another exchange of messages.
However at this instant, his attention was diverted. In the diminishing sunlight he could outline a figure perched on the branch, with cyan eyes riveted towards him. Raven cautiously drew near and to his utter amazement it was an eagle, a female! It was the same eagle who had warned him of Aria on the night when he visited the Eagle’s Council. The bird remained silent as Raven settled down besides her; her eyes gentle and welcoming.
She had a pure white down and stood magnificently over the branch with a hint of pride. Raven
tentatively asked the eagle of her origin.
“Crescent,” was her instant reply, her voice resonating with firmness and solidarity.
“The land of the elder eagles?” questioned Raven.
“Yes.” Her reply was again monotonous, “I am the daughter of the King.”
“King Vinyl? He is alive?” Raven’s disbelief was great for eagles were not immortals.
“Yes.” was again the answer he got. Raven then peered down for awhile and an uncomfortable silence settled between the two, enhancing the existing barriers of conversation. Eagles in the lore never trusted others of their kind and that triggered the downfall of the King of the Eagles, Ramseur and with him died all the ancient and wise of the tribe.
“What is your name?” she asked, placing a question for the first time, her beak clicking in impatience.
“Raven, son of Kerfina” he said confidently, ruffling his feathers proudly.
“Raven…I have finally located you. I am Sylvana,” she said. “I was sent from the tribe of the griffins, Titanarius.”
“Why?” inquired Raven narrowing his eyes, “The griffin leaders are hardly friendly with us eagles.”
“They are my allies as they have a debt to repay.” Sylvana clicked her beak again, “You must come with me.”
“I have to go someplace else. My master requested it,” rejected Raven. Or rather he was stalling.
“Where do you have to go?”
“To…to the High council.”
“Is it urgent?”
“It can wait but not for long.”
“Then come with me. We will return at sunrise.”
Raven then reluctantly followed the snowy eagle, Sylvana into the midst of the forest.