Srackt the Wise nodded thoughtfully as he lit his pipe. “You are asking me to leave the Afrd Mounts. But tell me, what do you know of the other side?” He looked pointedly at Legone.
“I have been through the land of Asspraineya, and the great green forest that borders the land of Slutan and Asspraineya,” Legone confirmed.
“Have you been to the Great Water Hole?” Srackt asked.
Legone shook his head.
Srackt nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. He laid a hand on the shoulder of the thin male sitting beside him. “This is Devine the Cron, or Sorn, as they call themselves in Asspraineya. He has been to the Great Water Hole.”
Devine shivered and lifted his wide eyes to look at the five. His face was gaunt and weathered. His eyes had lost their light and stared vacantly. His long brown hair lay in limp, stringy strands to his shoulders, and the top of his head was balding. “We had no warning when they took over Asspraineya.” His voice was high and halting, his speech in broken fragments. “One day, we were mining rock in Sornarky. The next, those fearsome beasts came sweeping in. Snatching us one by one. Forcing us to march to the Great Water Hole. Some they kept in prisons erected across the two countries. Seizing those found lost in the woods. Invading homes. Slaying those who resisted. Asspraineya is not a war country. The Rulers of our lands quickly struck a deal, promising cooperation and allowing the strange troops to invade our lands. At first they were Crons and Tiders in shiny armor. They were quickly replaced with the fleshy brown creatures that roar. We call them Garcrats because of the sound they make.”
“I do, too!” Starman exclaimed.
The Sorn ignored him and went on. “Next came the skeletal creatures. A stronger army called the Gaslinks because of the way they sneak up at night. They are real warriors, faster, and difficult to kill. Third came the Gims. A spirit that wafts through the wind and appears suddenly. It is tied to what is called a Boleck. They may be immortal but some evil is controlling their actions. Gims are rare and the few that do live terrorize Asspraineya. Finally, there are the guards, Xeros. They are not made of flesh and blood. Their eyes are everywhere. To cross above land is to welcome ambush and death. If you would dare to journey to the Great Water Hole, you must take the Slutan Tunnels. They do venture there sometimes, but no one lives there. It is an empty route. There are dead ends and branches off the tunnels. But the main path will lead you straight and true to the Great Water Hole. When you climb out, you will be standing in his presence.” He shuddered. “There is a tower where he dwells. And the smoking canyon is where the transformation takes place. Prisoners are tossed into those waters, washed downstream, and come out as one of the turned creatures. When they threw me in, I caught onto a ledge, crawled out, and escaped by the tunnels. It is only by luck I made it here. If you feel you must go, then go and lie low, and whatever you do, do not touch the water.”
Crinte felt a twinge of doubt at the Sorn’s unlikely tale. He nodded. “This is knowledge indeed. Would you mark the way for us on a map?”
The Sorn stared, fear shining bright out of his weathered eyes. “Srackt did warn me. It does not matter what I say; you will go nonetheless. But what is your plan once you arrive there? He is more powerful than any in the world.”
“Who is this ‘he’ you speak of?” asked Marklus.
“Sarhorr.” Devine spoke nervously. “That is what they call him. No one knows what he is, certainly not one of the people groups of the Four Worlds.”
Legone’s face was grim. “I know what he is. I have seen his face and I know who let him go. They will know what powers must be used to take him down.”
All eyes turned to Legone. “Will you tell us what you have seen?” Srackt the Wise asked.
“When I left you on the edge of the Dejewla Sea,” Legone’s eyes were dark, “you had told me crossing the sea would be my undoing. I did not believe you then, for at first those were the happiest years of my life. But as I dwelt with the creatures of the wood, I realized all was not well. They had opened portals across the Western World in their desire for light and beauty and power. Dark creatures came through from other worlds, the Wyverns in Srinka, the Zikes in Zikeland, Sarhorr in Asspraineya, and perhaps more. A poison began to spread across the lands, and fear began to run amok even among the ‘wild things.’ He was a beautiful creature at first, or so they say, but he came through torn and weak, using his last strength to close the portal lest what had chased him here would follow. And now, I wonder what indeed was seeking to take his life and why we did not let it.
“He came full of promise and power, transforming the green forest into even more of a paradise than it already was with his illusions. He needed us to love him, desire him. But when I looked at him, I saw him with true eyes, and his dementedness would not let me rest. At last came the day death entered the forest. Through deceit, he slew the Queen of the Green People, the King’s wife, and in a dark initiation transferred her power to himself. When we found him he feasted, intoxicated. There was dissension among the people, and at last a council was called and they made their ruling. The sentence was light, casting him from the forest, forcing him to become homeless and never return again, shutting him out of the power they held. He ranted and wailed but it may have been his plan all along. Weakly acclimated to his new power, he could not use it against the wild things, so he left and the civil struggle began. I spoke out in anger, telling them that under no circumstances should he have been allowed to live, and to this day I am not sure whether they were under his spell or not. I was forced to run, helped to escape, and since then I have sought to forget. But now he grows at large, and they know exactly how to stop him. As with all power, it ebbs and flows, and if it is stolen, the person will be no more than a broken shell. We must steal his power.”
Devine the Sorn stared into the fire, his eyes glazed over and hazy. At last, he spoke in a lazy voice. “Power is intangible; you cannot steal what you cannot see.”
Srackt the Wise turned over Legone’s words slowly in his mind. A long moment of silence passed with only the sound of flames eagerly licking up the oxygen in the air around them. He looked at Legone as if trying to read him. “The words you say are true, yet I feel there is something you have not told us. Whether it is key to your quest or not, it is hard to tell. There are shadows around you. It is hard to know your true intentions.”
“You have always thought ill of me,” Legone accused coldly.
Srackt shook his head. “Only of your intentions. This time though, you have come in a time of peril, and for that, we are grateful. I will speak to the armies and Rulers on this side of the sea, and we will go forth on your heels to the Great Water Hole. Mizine will send out armies of their own, and it will be a swift and brutal retaliation. Although you have come to seek my counsel, it is clear you do not need my blessing to proceed. Take with you the knowledge imparted here and keep close the dreams the night brings. There is much truth in what you see as you lie sleeping. Now, relax from your woes. There comes a time when you must keep watch always, but for now, rest in the Mounts and enjoy the time you do have.”
23
A Report
Later that evening, after the entire house was asleep, Devine woke in his loft. He sat up slowly, pulling a crystal in the shape of a winged horse from underneath his bed. He remembered when he had crossed the sea, worn and exhausted from his mission, on the brink of giving up his duty. He had been ordered to seek out a Tider of the Afrd Mounts, and only a name was given. Now, he lifted the Clyear of Revelation, closed his eyes, and breathed upon it. When he opened them, he followed as his eyes were taken past the dark tower, before the face of the very one he deeply despised. “Report,” the deep voice intoned boredly.
“The Five Warriors have come. Just like you said. And he is among them. They are coming to steal your power. They will take the route through the Slutan Tunnels.”
“Steal my power?” The voice gave an ironic laugh, but there was a hint of devilish anticipation i
n it. “We will be waiting for them in the tunnels. What else?”
“They plan to travel to the border forest of Asspraineya. And meet with the wild things to discover how.”
“It is too late for that.” The voice appeared thoughtful. “What else?”
“My host is planning on uniting the armies of Mizine. Leaving them exposed.”
“This shall be easy.” The voice sounded pleased. “What else?”
“One of them carries the Clyear of Power.”
This time, the voice did not speak again readily. “Now that is interesting,” it said finally. “Devine.” There was another pause. “Your work is done.”
“Thank you, Lord Sarhorr.”
“You have satisfied me. I have no further use for you.” Devine choked as he felt the invisible shield of protection removed from him. “The Order of the Wise has failed,” the voice laughed. “My plan remains in motion.” Devine attempted to breathe in deeply but realized no air was coming through. For a moment, he struggled, and even as he did, the Clyear of Revelation slipped from his fingers and he collapsed into a fatal sleep.
24
Purple Eyes
When dawn broke, Crinte was standing on the rooftop of his father’s home. They had talked late into the night but despite the early hour, the others were preparing to leave. Crinte watched the Mount as light began to gently touch its peak, encouraging life to shine forth. He found himself surprisingly frustrated when in reality he’d thought speaking with the wisest Cron he knew—who also happened to be his father—would confirm his plan was right. Mystified at the unsettling feelings, he hoped it was only anxiety regarding the task at hand. Besides, the Mounts were odd and secretive; their eyes were always watching. To the east, the sky was blazing with life, and suddenly, the air filled with the chatter and beating of wings as a thousand birds flew over his head. Crinte watched them calmly but his heartbeat was already quickening. So it was beginning.
“Crinte!” Marklus’ voice rang up from below. “Are you ready?”
The warriors were filing out the front door, their packs laden again with food for the lengthy journey. Srackt the Wise was the last to appear, his face more serious than the night before. “Are you sure you won’t stay just one more day?” he asked.
Crinte declined, saying, “We have already delayed too long. We must be away.” He followed the winding staircase that led off the roof, back inside, and finally out the front door to his companions. There was no sign of Devine the Sorn, but his knowledge of the lands to the north, and the map he had marked for them, was all they needed.
The five said their goodbyes and walked down the trailing road. The birds of the air chattered eagerly above them, but the tongues of the warriors seemed to have left them.
It was mid-morning when Marklus finally heard the voices of the Zikes again. “Some good news!” he announced to the others.
Starman trailed slowly behind. “News; I am tired of news,” he lamented. “The world is dark and everything is gone. How can news save us now?”
“Oh.” Marklus had no words to cheer him up. “Well, at least Ackhor has deployed the army to the guard the sea, and the Zikes will meet us on the other side.”
“That is good news indeed,” Crinte agreed, “but something is wrong and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“I hear it,” Legone said. “I must go to a higher mount and ask the Xctas to come fight with us.” He turned off the road with feet as fleet as a mountain goat, and began to make his way to the heights.
“We will wait for you in Wiltieders,” Crinte called after him.
“Is Srackt the Wise really your father?” Alaireia asked after Legone disappeared.
“Yes,” Crinte replied offhandedly. “He is my father by blood and a nomad by heart. I inherit his skills and would have inherited his longevity as well.”
“His magical home seems almost prison-like,” Alaireia went on. “Latch-less doors and rounded walls.”
“He has his ways,” Crinte remarked, but his voice was quiet, ending the conversation.
“There’s that smell again.” Starman twitched his nose. “It’s like a sweet syrup. Almost perfume like, but not quite.”
“The voices have returned as well,” Marklus observed. “They come and go at times.”
Crinte began to walk faster. “Let’s head north. We’ll meet Legone at the glade.”
Legone threw back his head, opened his mouth, and called. His voice echoed off rocks, slinking into the hidden crevices of the Mounts where creatures held their ears and asked him to stop. Quiet, Legone, they hushed. We will not listen. We will not comply.
Not you, he told the ravens and the hawks. I know where your allegiance lies. To the sky only. Flee while you can. This world is doomed.
Quiet, Legone. We are only doomed if they find us.
He called, the wind carrying his hoarse scream across the peaks. A lone coyote answered, howling from its interrupted sleep.
Come, the voice he sought out answered at last.
Heady elation consumed him as it did each time he felt wings sprout from his back. Sharp, curved talons grew in place of feet, and with a leap, he rose in the air, spreading his wings to soar above the peaks, free again. He could count on one hand the times the Xctas had allowed him to transform, for they controlled that innate ability. His sharp, beady eyes could see the birds of the air below him, crossly flying in opposite directions. The heart of the mountain beat feebly as he could see, beyond the grass and rock, deep below where the light did not shine, a poison seeping towards the core. Beating his powerful wings against the resistant air, he zigzagged higher towards the lonely peak hidden in mist that none could dare reach except by flight. A nest perched precariously on the utmost point, and when Legone dived into it, he found himself tumbling, rolling among brambles and sticks, a full sized Tider again. A talon snatched him up and before he could take a breath, he found himself hanging upside down over the precipice.
Why have you come? The voice was fierce, demanding.
Legone tilted his head in order to catch the eye of the giant Xctas holding him aloft. War is coming. The very being who destroyed Lye, your brother of the air, is coming for all of us.
The world spun again as he was tossed into the nest. Scrambling to his feet, he stood beside five fierce Xctas who perched on the edge, looking at him. They were his height, with long talons, curved beaks, and unforgiving eyes. Their features took on a rusted golden hue, and the very tips of their wings were pure white, blending with the mist of the air, rendering them invisible until they were on top of their prey. Legone stood calmly before them, as he had many times before. I have told many stories with portions of the truth intertwined within my words. But you deserve to know what is really happening. After you have heard, I ask of you a choice. Will you flee with the others, or will you come fight with me?
Proceed, an Xctas replied, moving its intimidating talons a hair closer to Legone. And be quick.
Calmly, Legone told his tale of his journey to the other side, ending with his flight back to the Afrd Mounts. Before I fled, I made a deal with Sarhorr the Ruler. In fact, we all made deals with him. He asked me to bring him the most powerful warriors in all of Mizine. You see, if he drains the power from the People Groups and wild things, there will be none to stand before him, no resistance left. I agreed, in exchange for the lives of the Green People. But Sarhorr the Ruler may not make promises that he keeps. If he is lying, I must have some kind of insurance that could save the world. The Green People gave me the Horn of Shilmi, carved from the bones of their Queen. I travel with Crinte the Wise and his powerful warriors, each who have an army to call. I ask for your help, to provide distraction in order to give me enough time to turn the tides of this war.
The Xctas closed around him, and Legone could feel their superior anger. What will you give us in exchange?
And for a moment, he almost could not answer them.
Evening brought them closer to the shallow
s of Wiltieders and Crinte led them to a grassy glade to camp for the night. Dark clouds were rolling in even as they perched cautiously on gray rocks and slowly ate. Crinte still felt uneasy as he paced the glade, rubbing his blond head as moisture filled the air. His night vision was strong as he surveyed his surroundings for a hint of the purple eyes. He had seen them before, years ago, when first traversing the Mounts. At first, they had been appealing, pulling him inward, intoxicating him under its spell, but now his thoughts were interrupted. A shadow appeared at the edge of his vision, and he turned his head to see it fully. He saw a streak of red and a flash of purple. Without hesitation, he moved towards it, out of the glade, sneaking between the trees that blinded his view. He could feel anticipation clouding his judgment. They had come at last; now was the time.
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 17