by R A Oakes
Raven’s body had been severely burned with only a few exceptions. The skin on her face was bright red but undamaged, her long hair was smoldering but intact, and the skin on her hands and feet were untouched by flames. Other than that, the ghost whisperer had been critically burned on over 90% of her body.
But she was alive. Just barely, but alive.
Zarimora glared at Balzekior and, in a sneering tone of voice, said, “I thought you were fully charged and ready for action.” Then, Zarimora saw Rothena and the adult Starlight staring at their critically-burned friend, and the troll queen shouted with all her might, “Vegetarian trolls! Vegetarian trolls! I’ll get you for this insult, for this unwarranted intrusion! I’ll get you all!”
Rothena was stunned by the sheer intensity of Zarimora’s anger, a rage that seemed to leap past the line between sanity and insanity without hesitation. And the abbot realized that since the troll queen had only recently gotten back from burning human villages, she was still drunk on blood lust. But even knowing that Zarimora was intoxicated and stupefied from the senseless slaughter of innocent humans, the troll queen’s hatred was beyond anything Rothena had ever witnessed before.
However, that was about to change, for Balzekior, stung by Zarimora’s rebuke, cut loose with a rage that topped Zarimora’s to the point that Rothena’s mind almost shut down to protect itself from the overwhelming sense of evil pouring out of the decrepit, old crone. Pointing both hands at the crack in the ceiling, Balzekior shot a blast of demonic flames that was so intense the rock itself began to melt.
Fortunately, Aldwen, a member of the College of Wizards, a band of ancient warrior mystics, anticipated the attack and held out his wizard’s staff horizontally with both hands and shouted, “Renamerous infernas defenderatum!”
Instantly, a beam of brilliant white light burst from the length of the staff creating a protective shield between Raven and the onslaught of dark-red flames. But even Aldwen was taken by surprise by the sheer intensity of Balzekior’s billowing inferno and had to brace himself as the flames seemed to eat away at the wizard’s energy shield.
“Run!” Aldwen shouted to his friends over the rumbling, thunderous noise of the inferno. “I’m not sure how long I can keep Balzekior at bay.”
Holding Raven’s ravaged body in his arms as gently as he could, Dynarsis made his way back through the undeveloped crevasse, the natural tunnel’s floor being covered with boulders with no cleared path to hasten their escape. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Aldwen struggling to beat back the demonic fire, the dark-red flames almost pressing up against the wizard and his staff, flattening the white-light heat shield and threatening to overwhelm it.
“A-h-h-h!” the elderly wizard grunted as he fought to hold his ground against the almost crippling evil surging forward. Yet it kept coming, pushing him back a step and then another.
Remembering how Jaren had said that Balzekior could be worn down, Aldwen committed the energy of his wizard’s staff to the task and shouted, “Exhaustera terminatum blastipar!”
Instantly, the brilliant white light started making progress against the torrential dark-red inferno, reversing its direction, and Aldwen began a tactical retreat, backing up into the crevasse and putting as much distance between himself and the crack in the ceiling as possible.
Next, he shouted, “Disruptum vibratora decendaray!”
And the ground beneath his feet began shaking, the walls of the crevasse began buckling and rocks in the ceiling started falling, smaller ones at first and then larger ones. Pointing his staff behind him to maintain the force field as best he could, Aldwen quickly made his way along the tunnel knowing the ceiling was about to collapse. And it did. Tons and tons of rock cascaded from above, sealing off the crevasse and holding back Balzekior’s demonic inferno.
Choking and gasping for air, Aldwen stumbled along, a bit of light flickering from the top of his staff helping him make his way through the darkness. But after catching up to Raven and the others, the wizard was further alarmed when he noticed there was only the faintest hint of golden light still glowing from the ghost whisperer’s body.
“I think the tiny bit of megentum energy left inside of her is all that’s keeping Raven alive,” Dynarsis said, facing the wizard, the concern in his voice evident to everyone.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Aldwen replied, seeing the anguish in Dynarsis’ eyes. “However, there might be enough light energy left in my staff to help.” And with that, he said, “Brimtor encaseray renetar coviterno.”
Dynarsis gasped as what looked like a layer of clear glass began flowing from the bottom of Raven’s feet along the length of her ravaged body to the top of her head, sealing in the remaining megentum energy. Gradually, the golden glow built up inside the clear container and filled it, creating a golden fog that enabled Raven to breathe, breathe recycled megentum energy.
After a few moments, the ghost whisperer’s eyes opened, and she asked, “How are the children?”
“We’re fine,” Renivy said, stepping from behind Dynarsis and kneeling down next to the older version of herself.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Brianuk added, kneeling down as well.
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“But, Raven, what about you? You sacrificed yourself for us,” Renivy cried.
“You’d have done the same thing for me,” Raven said, smiling calmly, exuding a sense of peace.
“But you’re dying,” Renivy sobbed, and Zorya looked at her daughter, surprised that she’d be so blunt.
“Yes, I know. I can feel the golden light, the Creative Light, draining out of me. But I was one with it for a while, and it opened my eyes and my consciousness to new possibilities.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Renivy asked, and Zorya put a hand on her daughter’s left shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze, hoping to steady her child and to discourage her from asking such pointed questions.
“The unknown is always frightening, but I think we’re supposed to be humbled by death, not frightened by it.”
“Humbled?”
“As one’s body is destroyed, even if only by the ravages of old age, a person is living within that damaged physical form. And since we’ve become attached to our body, the destruction of it, at least at first, appears to be a great loss.”
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s not. No more than if a house burns down, but everyone inside has gotten out safely. What matters most are the people who lived in the house and not the house itself. Just so, as long as our spirit survives, our body is of no more value than a house.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve lost me,” Renivy sighed, feeling a bit confused.
“It’s okay, you’re young. Your ‘house’ should be around for a long time yet.”
“I can only live for as long as you live,” Renivy countered.
“What?”
“If you die at 33-years-old, so will I, at least once I reach that age myself. And if I had died before you, you would have died at the same moment since I’m younger than you, and my death would wipe out your existence.”
“You’re a smart girl. It’s a good thing I helped rescue you.”
“A lot of good it did you.”
“Being one with the golden light has opened my eyes to seeing beyond physical death.”
“Then, I’d rather you remained spiritually blind. I don’t want you to go away.”
“We all die sometime.”
“Tomorrow would be better. Always tomorrow.”
“Renivy, I love you, but I need to close my eyes and rest.”
“No, don’t. People die when they close their eyes,” the girl cried out, but it was too late. Raven already seemed fast asleep. Looking up at Zorya with eyes filled with tears, Renivy asked, “Is she dead, Mother?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“A woman with this much hard-won wisdom can’t be allowed to die,” Aldwen insisted.
“We need to get
her back to the monastery’s great hall and to the megentum metal,” Rothena suggested.
“Even that might not save her at this point,” Aldwen replied.
“Then, take Raven and the megentum metal to the monastery’s forge and create Baelfire, the magic sword,” Rothena firmly advised.
“Creating Baelfire will save Raven?” Aldwen asked.
“I believe Raven is already one with the Xao,” Rothena said gravely.
“The Xao or the Creative Light?”
“The Xao, the Creative Light, the golden light and the megentum energy. I think they’re all one and the same. Regardless of what you call it, I think we’re all worshiping the same God.”
“If Raven’s one with the Xao, then she and the megentum metal might also be as one.”
“In that case, without Raven there can be no Baelfire,” Rothena replied.
“And without Baelfire, there can be no Raven.”
“Raven and Baelfire,” Rothena mused.
“Two bodies, in a way, with one spirit.”
“Yes.”
“As you suggested, Rothena, we’d better get back to the monastery, and quickly.”
“Forge the sword, Aldwen. Forge the sword.”
Chapter 21
When Raven opened her eyes, it was like awakening from a restless, troubled dream into a living nightmare. The huge double doors of the forge had been flung wide open allowing her an unobstructed view of the northern side of the monastery, a massive four-story structure with flames shooting out of every one of its windows. And though it was no longer nighttime, what little light there was revealed the worst possible weather conditions.
Meat-eating trolls hated sunlight for it would turn them to stone in an instant. But they had little to fear on this day for dark, brooding storm clouds filled the sky with a bleakness that gave courage to the army of mindless warriors. Raven could see them swarming around the monastery by the thousands.
“It’s like when meat-eating trolls overran the last human stronghold in the time frame we came from twenty years from now,” the ghost whisperer said, looking up at Dynarsis who was standing next to her. “We’re reliving the same event all over again, in a different time and a different place, but it’s happening all over again.”
Dynarsis didn’t reply. He didn’t know what else to say. Raven was right.
Glancing around her, the ghost whisperer realized she was lying on a table that was next to a much sturdier one with the blacksmith’s anvil on it. However, the blacksmith, in this instance, was unlike any other she’d seen before. He was dressed in white wizard’s robes, had long white hair flowing down his back and a long white beard reaching almost to his waist. The elderly man appeared ancient, but he was wielding a hammer with the strength of someone in his prime. However, that only added to Raven’s personal nightmare because every time the wizard slammed the hammer against the anvil, the sound seemed to explode inside the ghost whisperer’s skull, as she already had an enormous headache.
“Bang, bang, bang!” the hammer seemed to shout with every fall of the wizardly blacksmith’s arm. “Crash, crash, crash!”
Looking around the forge, Raven was surprised by how large it was, being more like a barn than a blacksmith’s workshop. And it was filled with dozens of wizards, at least it appeared to be. But when Raven reached up to touch one of them, her hand passed right through him.
“Are these wizards actually ghosts?” Raven asked.
“They’re projections from within the College of Wizards, a parallel universe where they live,” Dynarsis replied. “It was too dangerous to come into our world.”
Glancing out the huge double doors and seeing the mob of meat-eating trolls encircling the monastery, raising their double-bladed axes and cheering as the building burned, Raven said, “I don’t exactly blame the wizards for staying away.”
“Well, Aldwen says the wizards are here, at least their collective essence is here, and he says they need to be,” Dynarsis added. “Apparently when megentum is heated, at least at first, it absorbs the properties of whatever’s around it. The mystics need to be here so the megentum absorbs things that are useful, like the wisdom and knowledge of the entire College of Wizards.”
At that moment, Raven cringed again because the sky erupted with an enormous, rolling clap of thunder and the heavens opened unleashing sheets of torrential rain as the wind began to howl, whipping through the forge. However, the ghost whisperer noticed that none of the wizards’ robes so much as moved, and she said to herself, So they’re here but not here.
Raven tried to sit up but barely made it onto one elbow. “Help me up,” the ghost whisperer said to Dynarsis. When he hesitated, she added, “Now.”
As gently as he could, Dynarsis helped his friend as she swung her legs over the side of the table and sat up, and he steadied her when she almost passed out from the process, her head reeling. When she caught her breath and could see somewhat clearly again, she glanced up to the rafters and saw dozens and dozens of ravens perched on the ceiling’s support beams. Bold Spear, her favorite, flew down from her perch and greeted her friend, “C-r-o-c-k, c-r-o-c-k.”
The raspy sound of her bird-friend’s greeting caused the ghost whisperer’s head to ache even more, if that was possible, but Raven gently petted Bold Spear and smiled as best she could. But then, the ghost whisperer saw something that caused her to cry out. Her mother, Zorya, was unconscious and sprawled out in a large chair near the table where the ancient wizard was still determinedly hammering away.
“What happened to my mother?”
“She’s okay,” Dynarsis said. “Dean Tenaray says she’ll be fine.”
“What happened? And who’s Dean Tenaray?”
“The mystic in the white robes forging Baelfire is the dean of the College of Wizards. As for your mother, Dean Tenaray wasn’t able to make a fire hot enough to melt the megentum metal, so your mother unleashed her own flames, giving everything she had, including her own inner spirit, her own soul, at least in part, so Dean Tenaray could get the metal flexible enough to begin to mold it.”
“Mother’s alive?”
“Alive, but exhausted.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Aldwen’s over there by Dean Tenaray.”
“His wizard’s staff is the gateway to the College of Wizards, isn’t it, which is how Dean Tenaray got here?”
“Yes, and Starlight and Andylan are right outside guarding the door.”
“Why haven’t the meat-eating trolls attacked the forge?”
“We’re a couple hundred yards from the north side of the monastery, and the forge looks almost insignificant compared to the main structure. But once they stop celebrating their victory, we’ve got problems, real problems.”
“Their victory?”
“Vangalaya and 150 vegetarian trolls are outside the forge with Starlight and Andylan, ready to make a last stand. However, about 200 vegetarian-troll monks have retreated into the crevasse, the one just north of here with the miles-deep staircase that eventually leads to the Sacred Cave.”
Upon hearing that, Raven said, “Zarimora will seal off the crevasse and starve the vegetarian trolls who are alive, and Balzekior will kill the ghost monks. They’ve walked into a trap of their own making.”
“I agree.”
“What about the other vegetarian troll monks? There were around 500 in all.”
“The others are dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What’s surprising is that it was Xankar who led the charge.”
“Xankar, the renegade monk who tried to topple Vangalaya?”
“Yes. He gathered 100 monks around him, primarily the ones who’d come to the Sacred Cave to destroy you, but after witnessing how the Cave accepted you, came to believe in you. Yet, before that, they were his closest followers. When he’d heard that Balzekior could be worn down, he volunteered to lead an attack against her, and it worked to some degree. The black-red billowing
flames that she now unleashes aren’t as powerful or as intense as when she burned you in Gratuga.”
Just then, there was an enormous roar, and Raven and Dynarsis glanced outside through the rain. Even Dean Tenaray stopped hammering and looked over his shoulder at the mindless horde of meat-eating trolls closing in on the forge.
“Here they come,” Vangalaya said, as she glanced inside. Seeing that Raven was awake, she strode up to the ghost whisperer and added, “I’m glad you’re still alive, and part of my reason for saying that is somewhat selfish. I don’t think Dean Tenaray can create Baelfire on his own, no matter how hard he tries.”
When Raven didn’t respond, Vangalaya looked over at Dean Tenaray and asked, “How’s it going?”
“I expected Baelfire to come to life, to become an actual sentient being, especially after absorbing Zorya’s inner spirit as well as the wizards’ knowledge and experience. But it’s not happening. I don’t know what’s wrong,” the dean said, his voice filled with anxiety and frustration. As he watched the meat-eating trolls closing in on the forge and saw the vegetarian-troll monks steeling themselves to make one last stand, a stand the monks would surely lose, Dean Tenaray threw up his hands and almost cried, “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Have you shaped the metal into a sword?” Vangalaya asked.
“Yes, the sword itself is ready, but it’s lifeless. It’s just a metal sword, a megentum sword, but a lifeless one nonetheless.”
“Maybe you’ve done all you can.”
“There has to be something, something I’m leaving out,” Dean Tenaray said, wringing his hands.
