by Rex Hazelton
Crashing head long into the imposing net, Laviathon fell slithering backward into the tightening snare, unable to escape. Enraged, the wicked serpent spewed fire on the net, but his blaze barely made the metal rings glow. The cold ran and colder sea water absorbed the heat too quickly. Bewildered, Laviathon blew smoke out of his nostrils, trying to hide his movements from those who hunted him. But the horrific winds that Ab'Don's sinister magic had conjured up dispersed the vapor faster than the terrible lizard could produce it.
Laviathon cursed Ab'Don for ordering him to foolishly attack the teeth of the Bjork defenses. He was more than a match for the longboats in the open sea, a place where he usually encountered no more than a handful of vessels at a time, but the confines of the narrow cove troubled him from the start. Having had numerous first-hand experiences with Bjork valor, add to this the advantage of their home waters, Laviathon knew his claws would be full. What started out as an act of terrorism, Ab'Don had ordered up to dissuade the Bjork from giving their support to the Hammer Bearer, had become a life and death struggle for Laviathon.
“Ab'Don's going to be the end of me yet! If he's so interested in conquering Nyeg Warl, why doesn't he bring his own stinking hide over here and risk his own life?” Laviathon grumbled to himself. “I'll not let that pompous ass' ambitions ruin me!”
Shaking himself out of the pool of pity his thoughts were swimming in, Laviathon gathered his considerable wits together, putting his sinister mind to work formulating a plan of escape. While he pushed his brain to think, the Bjork began firing ropes over his back attempting to snarl his limbs and restrict his movements. Looking about himself, he noticed a number of slits in the steel net. Though the openings were too narrow for his bulbous torso to fit through, Laviathon decided that they were his best chance of escaping. In an instant, he began his feverish side-to-side motion as he shoved past the cords laying upon his huge back. Then, taxing his muscles to their limits, he charged one of the slits. Hurling his massive body into the air, he came crashing downward.
Laviathon had made a good guess. He hit the net at its weakest point, the place where the segments were held together by cables affixed to the invisible longboats. At first, the great lizard's body was suspended in midair looking like a scaly catepillar stuck in a spider's web. After frantically thrashing about in a desperate bid for freedom, one of the cables snapped… and then another and another until the slit widened enough for Laviathon to fall through. Then, the evil reptile vanished as the wisdor stone's magic swallowed him up.
The sound of breaking timbers and screaming men emanated out of the nothingness. Unbeknownst to Laviathon, a longboat lay behind the slit. A wooden arm, as thick as a mast, that rose above the ship's bow was outfitted with a system of pulleys that were used to wield the net. The serpent's massive body had not only snapped the cables that knit the pieces of steel webbing together, he had also broken the boom. Nearly as big as a longboat himself, Laviathon made a horrible thrashing noise as he tried to squirm over the deck and out into the open sea.
In time, the upper third of a mast came into sight just before it fell sideways into the turbulent water. Several bursts of flame, shooting up into the ever-darkening sky, reached beyond the parameters of invisibility. Then, in a blink of an eye, the flailing reptilian body, perched atop a decimated longboat whose stern was hopelessly shattered to pieces, appeared moments before it slid over the vessel and out into the dark green sea.
Later, Laviathon could be seen leaping out of the water, reveling in his freedom- the limp body of a Bjork warrior still in his jaws. Then to spite the horrified onlookers, the dragon tossed the body high into the air before catching him in his mouth and swallowing him whole.
Turning to face the Bjork fleet, Laviathon put away any thought of exacting revenge upon the armada's hindquarters when he saw the longboats quickly fall into a new formation that he could only guess contained another trap for him. Spewing fire, over-and-over again, in helpless rage, the terrible lizard cursed Ab'Don for subjecting him to such danger and humiliation. But the evil Lord of Ar Warl's plans were sound and would have produced the desired measure of terror, if it hadn't been for the warning that Grour Blood had delivered in enough time for the Bjork to board their longboats and implement their defenses. Without this having happened, the storm would have hidden Laviathon's approach long enough for him to slip in and wreak havoc on the fleet.
The rain suddenly stopped and the hail took full control. Doubling in size, the icy barrage pelted the festal crowd, driving them to find shelter. Along with the hail, a deep rumbling noise joined the peels of thunder, filling the ever-darkening sky with a sound so overwhelming in its intensity that one might have guessed the warl was being ripped asunder. Those who still watched Laviathon, saw him snap his head toward the awful noise and then quickly dive out of sight. And as the sea serpent fled, an unbelievable bolt of lightning filled the air with a brilliance that revealed an ominous funnel shape reaching out of the sky, one that dipped down into the sea.
Cries of, Water spout! Water spout! Water spout! could be heard screaming out of a hundred throats as the deep rumbling sound, coming from the deadly whirlwind, grew to a deafening roar.
Hypnotized by the display of sheer power, Jeaf, Goldan, and Bacchanor watched the churning monster grinding up the cove, on its way to the invisible fleet. An unrelenting spray of sea water, feeling like handfuls of gravel, stung the men's faces. Still they remained determined to witness what the terrifying whirlwind would do.
Like a bloodhound locked on a scent, the water spout didn't need eyes to find its prey. Unerringly, the giant funnel cloud bore down on the Bjork until something like the sound of a million horses chomping on grain was heard above the water spout's incessant roar. The storm had located its victim and was busy shredding it apart. Devastating winds cut through the boats, tossing pieces of wood and cloth high into the air
Satisfied with the destruction it had dealt the hapless fleet, the whirlwind made an abrupt U-turn and headed straight for the tower where the Hammer Bearer and his companions were sheltered.
“Run!” Bacchanor shouted. “Evil is upon us!”
An instant later, all were racing for down the spiral staircase that bore its way through the tower's core and into the lower wall. As they ran, the roar grew to ear shattering proportions. Mouths moved without making sounds, shouting out words that were pitilessly drowned out by the horrible rumbling groan. Two Bjork, trying to move faster than was possible, lost their footing and fell on Goldan. The human avalanche swallowed two more people before it lost momentum and allowed the men to scramble to their feet and renew their flight. Noise of timbers being rent to pieces could be heard overhead as a chunk of splintered wood cut into the Jeaf's shoulder, sending him reeling to the floor where the stairs ended. Another piece struck the wizard on the head, crumpling him alongside the Hammer Bearer. Blood covered both. Then as the two stunned men gazed at one another, wondering if they were looking into the last face they would ever see, the whirlwind's deafening noise ceased.
Laying upon the wooden stairs, moaning in pain, the company of survivors looked upward and saw clear evening skies spreading over them, as if the storm had never happened. Astonishingly enough, the entire tower had been torn away, and they would have gone with it if they hadn't reached the lower wall first.
After gathering themselves up, Jeaf and the others made the short climb up to the ramparts. Looking out into the cove, they saw one half of the original fleet reappear. The evil storm had blasted the other half into oblivion. Turning away from the tragic sight, the fortunate company hobble away to get their wounds tended to, each fully aware that Ab'Don had made his terrifying point with a display of magic that had nearly cost them their lives.
****
Riverkynd's lights, twinkling on the northern horizon, announced the end of Jeaf's voyage aboard the Bjork flagship, the Thorgood. He and his traveling companions, that now included Fyreed who was proudly wearing Goldan's blue Tsadal un
iform, would finish the journey to Vestylkynd astride Hadram horses that Baryk's gold would purchase for them.
As Jeaf leaned his elbows on the ship's bow, his mind drifted back recalling other kindnesses the Bjork king had shown him. The evil storm, Ar Warl's dark lord had conjured up to strike fear in Thundyrkynd's heart, had not produced the desired effect. In fact, the deadly barrage only cemented the commitment the Bjork had already given the Hammer Bearer.
Once Thundyrkynd patched itself up, following the devastating attack, by shoring up its battered buildings and tending to its wounded, the great city set about burying its dead. Using barrows dug high up on the slopes overlooking the Largryk Sea's green waters, the fallen were put to rest. Three days prior to the mass funeral, the city streets were uncharacteristically empty while the Bjork observed the customary time for mourning their fallen. Not bury their loved ones until after the time of grieving had passed, they believed the spirits of the deceased hovered near their bodies until the fourth day after their demise. To do otherwise would offend the departed, bringing bad luck. Soon afterwards, the spirits began their journey to Wygean's Hall where they spent eternity in a warrior's paradise.
After a week of work and sorrow had passed, the king called the Woodswane, wizard and warrior to Thundyrkynd's Great Hall. Enacting the Rite of Adoption, the Bjork accepted Jeaf, Bacchanor and Goldan as their own. The bonds of shared suffering became the hallowed logic inducing Baryk to invite his guests to join them in the solemn bonds of life.
Grour Blood's timely appearance- proving to be the sign that Bjork prophecy said would come out of the heavens to accompany the arrival of the Hammer Bearer- elevated the Rite of Adoption, filling it with greater awe and wonder.
As part of the sacred liturgy, Jeaf and his companions were given the names of three warriors who had been killed in the battle with Laviathon, an act meant to honor both the living and the dead. Jeaf was given the name Stren, Goldan was given the name Boryss, and Bacchanor was given the name Lars.
Tradition held that the spirits of the slain warriors would help their namesakes in time of need; when they passed from this life, they would come and usher them into Wygean's Hall. But, until that day came, as long as the three men lived, the deceased would not be cut off entirely from the warl of the living. Their chance for glory and honor would continue, now coming through the words and deeds of those who had been given their names.
At the end of the Rite of Adoption, moved by the gravity of the recent events, Baryk honored the Hammer Bearer by giving him a ring of invisibility. “Here, brother.” The Bjork leader spoke while reverentially picking up a double-banded ring made of pure star's blood, each band holding a red gem that was originally one stone, now divided into two. “Let me show you how the magic of the Wisdor Stone works.” Baryk separated the bands from each other, holding them at arm's length; as he did, the king blurred before disappearing inside a field of invisibility arching between the two gems. He reappeared once the bands were reunited.
Handing the Hammer Bearer the greatest treasure the Bjork could bestow upon a person, the king explained the history of the Wsdor Stone. “Over three-hundred summers ago, after our fathers were exiled from Ar Warl and once we settled in Thundyrkynd, Ab'Don commanded Laviathon to find the remnant of our people and destroy those who had escaped him. Obeying his master, the evil serpent continued ambushing our ships until only ten were left.”
Since all we had ever been were traders who used the rivers and seas of the warl as highways to transport our merchandise, we were left facing extermination. In need of a miracle that would stop Laviathon's rampage and make the seas safe again, our fathers called out to Wygean, beseeching him to save them. On the third night of their fast, a star fell out of the sky. Striking the mountain our fair city rests upon, the ground heaved like the surface of a pond struck by a stone. The sound of thunder filled the air.” Believing this was Wygean's answer, our fathers went hunting for this star. Finding it resting in the bottom of a deep hole on the far side of the mountain, they dug it out of the pit and set out to bring it back to Thundyrkynd. Black as coal, it was so large that it took a team of twenty horses to carry it by wagon over the rugged, roadless terrain. Then, as the wagon neared Thundyrkynd, its tongue broke, separating it from the horses, sending it toppling over a steep rocky cliff, taking the prize with it. When our fathers finally reached the pile of splintered wood, they found that the star had split open, revealing the magical Wisdor Stone sitting at its core.
“Extracting the massive gem from the black rock that had hidden it, our ancestors tried to finish the journey to the city. But, as fate would have it, one of the warriors found a shard of the gem resting against the mother stone. Picking it up in his hand and stepping away from the star, he, the stone, and two others suddenly vanished. Fear and confusion gripped the hearts of the remaining men, sending them scrambling for their lives until they heard the voices of their departed brothers reassuring them they were still there and hadn't been whisked away by some form of evil wizardry.”
In time, our fathers discovered that the Wisdor Stone was endowed with a magic that could render invisible any who understood its secrets. So, artisans were commissioned, those skilled in working with precious gems, to cut the magical stone into various useable sizes. The very stones in your ring were some of the first to have been split off the mother gem.”
The king went on to explain. “The stones must be separated and then exposed to each other for the Magic of Invisibility to work.” Asking for Jeaf's ring, Baryk repeated his earlier performance, inducing the Wisdor Stone to envelope him in the magic of invisibility. But this time, he reappeared still holding the stones apart in closed fists. After a few moments, King Baryk gave a faint smile, opened his hands- exposing the stones once again- and vanished.
Jeaf learned that the field of invisibility the Wisdor Stones cast was proportionate to their size. For example, the stones sitting on his ring could create a field of invisibility that would at best engulf an area comparable to the size of a king's bed. Therefore, the stones that were used to protect the longboats were sufficiently larger than Jeaf's ring to accommodate the vessel's greater size. Imbedded near the bow and stern of a longboat, to provide the necessary parameters in which a large vessel could hide, gems were held inside wooden boxes. When the need for invisibility arose, the lids were opened exposing the two stones to each other.
“What about the ship's mast?” Goldan asked. “Wouldn't it keep the stones hidden from one another?”
“You've made an astute observation for one who does not know the breadth of the stone's power.” The king was impressed with the Tsadal's powers of reasoning. “Further explanation is needed.”
We found that the Wisdor Stones' magic is like candlelight. Let me explain. One could cover a candle with a thick blanket and hide it entirely, negating its power. But if the blanket were moved some distance from the candle, though the flame itself was hidden from line of sight, its glow would still be seen.” Here, the king paused until Goldan nodded his head. “If you had two candles, one on either side of a blanket, wouldn't their glowing touch?”
“Yes, of course.”
Pleased with the response he got, the Bjork lord concluded, “When you add that the flame's size determines the distance at which its glow can effectively be seen, you'll know enough to figure out how the Wisdor Stones work.”
The king went on to explain that the two biggest stones were held in iron boxes anchored in rock abutments on either side of the Largryk Cove. If need arose, the lids of these heavy boxes would be lifted, allowing an arch of magic to span the mouth of the cove, swallowing the twin cities of Thundyrkynd in invisibility.
“Sir, wouldn't the Wisdor Stone's magic make it impossible for your people to see one another?” Goldan continued quizzing the Bjork leader. “How then could you implement your battle strategies?”
Baryk smiled cognizant that the Tsadal commander was busy evaluating the limits of the stone's properties. “
Indeed, you are a leader of men. As such, you seek to see the forest and not just the trees.” The king nodded his approval before he spoke again. “Commander, the Wisdor Stone only prevents those outside of its influence from seeing those that are within.”
“Sadly,” Baryk at last admitted, “with the passing of time, the greater portion of magical stone has been lost in the sea's depths, during the numerous battles that the Bjork have fought with Laviathon and his brood.”
Chapter 30: The Road to Ranah
As the lights of Riverkynd flitted on the horizon like an army of torches marching steadily closer, Jeaf looked at the ring he wore on his finger, knowing this gift was a treasure beyond value.
The young Woodswane flexed his shoulder and bent down to rub his calf, astonished at the powers Bacchanor's music possessed. A few more of the wizard's healing songs and I'll be as good as new, he thought.
Looking at Fyreed, who was standing beside him, the young Woodswane touched his neck where he now carried his own tattoo. Though much smaller, it was not unlike the one resting on the Bjork's face. His neck was still tender from the needle used to put the sign of adoption on him, a picture of a hammer crushing the head of a dragon.
Goldan, who was fast becoming more than just Jeaf's companion-in-arms, lightly touched his own neck as if he were reading the Hammer Bearer's mind. The two men, though they were raised in widely divergent environments, were kindred spirits and were quickly becoming best friends. The Woodswane's warl was one of living free in the greenwood; whereas, the commander came from a rigidly structured society that permitted little freedom of expression or individuality. Yet, the two men were discovering that they were cut out of the same block of stone, for both had the courage to follow the truth wherever it led.