The Three Charms

by Brian Spielbauer

  As they reached the shores, the winds picked up and the shadows grew from the wrecked homes. Tegan ordered the army to rest.

  “We will depart in the morning, rest tonight.” Tegan said to the generals, who passed the order on.

  Erol came back to Rufus and Tegan, having gone on a little farther with Belgin. “We have reached the wilderness with no sign of the enemy.”

  “Tomorrow we will head inland and Rufus can lead us to his village,” Tegan replied, excited for the next stage, but weary of the warnings laid upon him by the elf.

  In the morning, Rufus gladly boarded Erol’s hand, ready for the day’s trek. The giant ogre carried the elf across the old fields of the city to the edge of the forest. There Gile and Belgin stood waiting for them, watching the trees.

  “Do you see something?” Erol asked. His intent and focus clear.

  “No,” Belgin answered. “Nothing. I have not seen one animal, not a dear, a rabbit, or even a bird.”

  “Everything hides now from Herrog. His forces take and kill all they see. It is only a matter of time before he spills into your fair country. He is unstoppable.” Rufus’s words hardened the resolve of the ogres, as they were determined to ensure this fate did not extend to Lemuria.

  “We will see about that,” Erol muttered, unwilling to go along with the elf’s assessment.

  “Let’s go, my village is not too far from here,” Rufus urged, changing the discussion. Rufus desired to get to his village, hopeful his people were still there.

  The rest of the army caught up to them and was eager to be under the cover of the forest instead of the open plains. They were pleased to have crossed the ice without incident, but the still bitter cold downed their spirits. Not long after entering the forest, a lone dog howled in the far-off distance, wailing in the wind that carried the shrill sound through the trees.

  Rufus covered his ears, “They never stop, always howling they are!” Then he looked to Erol, “They know we are here.”

  Erol smiled back, “Let them come. I have a dragon!” The smile gave Rufus comfort, picking a fight with this crew would be quite a bit different than bullying some elves.

  As they drew close to the cave where Shalkar and his friends first met the elves, Rufus could see smoke rising from his village far below. More sounds carried up from the village, traveling fast on the evil gust.

  “Those are the screams of my people!” Rufus conceded as he sadly stared into the wind. Then another sound crept back in, with his anger rising, “The hounds of Herrog are there, tormenting them!” He looked to Erol, who saw the resolve growing in Rufus, who was ready to measure his new friends against his old enemy.

  Erol and Belgin, always ready for a good fight, bounded through the higher drifts of snow toward the village. Gile gladly followed, the snow melting below his gut that was quickly heating up with flame. The gargoyles took to flight to follow, with Tegan and Telon on their cats rushed to help, the last that could match the ogres speed. The rest followed as they could, immensely aided by the trail left by the rampaging ogres and dragon.

  It was a nightmare come true for Rufus, as before him goblins and large wolf-like dogs were racing around the village. They were chasing the frightened elves here and there, grabbing them. The goblins were throwing elves in cages as slaves, while others they murdered for sport as the defenseless elves frantically scampered between the trees. Rufus climbed from Erol’s hand to his shoulder and held on as the two ogres reached the fight first.

  More than trolls and snakes, Erol hated anyone who took advantage over those they deemed weaker. He merrily began smashing the dogs with his giant fists. They yelped in pain with each blast and the giant canines turned on him. The fighting was fast and ferocious as they swarmed Erol, trying to get to Rufus, who clung tight to Erol’s ear. Several more dogs emerged from the woods, ready to take on the giant ogre.

  Erol quickly discarded the beasts, sending all but one flying through the air. That one he strangled and began using it as a club, smashing the other dogs with their leader. Rufus laughed with each bash of dog on dog, his eyes dancing with tears as he saw his people begin to turn on the dogs too and fight back against their evil nemesis.

  Gile stood high and reared back, roasting several of them with a blaze of fire. The stink of the burning hair filled the glade, the wretched smell sending the other dogs into a frenzy. The areas he hit melted quickly, forming a sloshing pool of mud the dogs dove into to stop the fires.

  Belgin ran into the gang of dogs. With a giant stomp, ten or more were smashed into nothingness. Mud and dog parts exploded in all directions. Then he continued his smashing in the frozen waste but soon he turned his focus back to the goblins. The fat maggots exploded like small balls of jelly under his hammer fists. It was as a game to Belgin. His enjoyment at ridding Lemuria of goblins was so great that he could play for days on end without tiring.

  The gargoyles raced ahead to free as many elves as they could, dislodging the riding goblins from their dog carriers. The goblins carried the cages of elves between them, but they dropped their captive elves as the gargoyles drew their attention. Then the winged pursuers killed several of the goblins and the rest began to flee in fear. The relieved elves did not know what to make of the gargoyles and cowered in fear they were trading one captor for another.

  Tegan and Telon rushed into the burning homes in the trees, saving many young elves from certain death. The elves were too afraid of the dogs to leave their homes, even at the risk of burning alive. Elard and Bramble developed their first hate of dogs, eagerly taking them down one at a time. A band of the mongrels disappeared into the forest, regrouping for another time. Without a doubt, they would alert their master of the new presence to the island. Telon called Elard back, not allowing the cats to chase the fleeing dogs.

  The newly arrived army saved several hundred elves. But not before the goblins took many as slaves or killed them. The snow was falling fast, covering the tracks of the escaping dogs and goblins.

  “We cannot chase them, the elves need our help,” Telon implored Tegan, for he saw Tegan’s desire to chase them down. Tegan saw it as a chance to track them straight to Herrog.

  Dorir also read the look on Tegan’s face and agreed, “We will get her Tegan, but there are many injured here. Send out search parties to find the path. We will stay and help the elves before they freeze.”

  Tegan felt so close to his prize but he knew Telon and Dorir were right.

  A group of elves carried another on a stretcher. Rufus was mortified to see the victim.

  “Father, what happened?” Rufus worriedly asked Argus as he turned to see his son.

  “They took Philomena, your mother is gone!” Argus sadly huffed as he struggled to speak. He carried a deep wound to his stomach, courtesy of dog claw. “You must save her!”

  Rufus fought back tears, “We will save her, you and I both.”

  “It must be you, I have failed,” Argus muttered what he thought were his last words. Rufus cried as he held his failing father in his arms.

  Telon picked Argus up and rushed him into a makeshift hut, taking care of the wound as best he could.

  Though some elves were dead or taken, the dwarves saved many of them. The dwarves, with the rest of the newly arrived army, did their best to build shelters for the elves, using what was left of their homes in the trees. Rufus spoke to several of the elders remaining, “You must lead them back across the ocean to Lemuria. There is a forest, just across the ice. Wait there for us.”

  The elders agreed, “We will leave in the morning.”

  The elves that weren’t fit for the battle, which was most of them, would leave. The rest prepared as best they could for the fight that was before them. There were several who carried serious injuries, which the elves left in the hut with Argus. The elves had few weapons, so the ones preparing for battle grabbed anything they could find that looked menacing. Many of them carried little more than nets or fishing poles.

  The wagon
carrying Quelna and Gulac arrived at the woodland home of the elves, having got stuck several times in the large drifts. Seeing the need, Gulac insisted to Tegan, “Please use our wagon to move the wounded. It is the least I can do for the ones I lived with for many years.”

  Telon worked hard to take care of Argus’s severe wounds. He had the bleeding stopped and searched through the medicines available to lower the elves’ fever. Argus began to stir and as he opened his eyes, he became anxious, as if seeing a ghost.

  “Gulac,” he whispered, almost in horror.

  Telon was amazed the elf was awake. “Close your eyes friend, you need to rest,” Telon encouraged Argus, trying to comfort him.

  “You have escaped the dungeons! How? When? Please, forgive me what I have done.” The memory Argus was having caused him turmoil as he struggled to get out of bed. It was as if he was hurt more by a tainted dream than the massive injuries he sustained at the paws of the dogs.

  “Argus, I am sorry, but you are mistaken. I am not Gulac,” Telon answered, brushing off the comment. “Worry not for him though, he is here and safe. I freed him from the torture he endured for many years. Would you like me to send for him?”

  Argus did not answer but continued to wriggle restlessly in his bed. His mind could not let the thought of Gulac slide away. He tormented himself for a past transgression, tortured by the image of the young Gulac that seemed to be standing before him.

  Gulac hobbled on his cane toward the nearest tent, with the help of Tegan and Quelna at either side. As they entered, they saw Telon standing over a table, mending the badly hurt elf laying before him. The elves continuously brought the wounded in, some of which were already dead from their injuries. The dwarves had nowhere else to put them.

  Gulac walked up to Telon and stood over the elf on the table between them. He could not believe his eyes as Argus, his dear friend of many years ago, lay close to death below him. For the moment, Argus’s closed eyes and did not notice the new arrival. Gulac saw his old friend was in a rough condition. As Gulac took ahold of Argus’s hand, Telon informed him, “The elf has asked for you. He actually thought I was you for a moment.”

  A burning fear covered both Gulac and Quelna over what was about to unfold. A tidal wave of events was ready to crash down which they were powerless to stop. Tegan also heard the words and he looked to the terrified face of Gulac. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but none of them seemed to present a way out of the situation.

  At that moment, Argus opened his eyes. They began swinging back and forth from Gulac, to Telon, and then back again. His breathing became excited huffs. Then the words which Tegan, Quelna and Gulac had hoped to fashion themselves at another well-planned time, came rushing hazardously out of the wounded elves mouth, “Gulac! You have returned from death. This must be your son!”

  Telon froze, the words hanging in his ears as he looked over the medicines on the table before him, which were next to Argus’s bed. At first, he smiled at the elf, not wanting to correct him. Then the look on Gulac’s stunned face caught his eyes. Gulac stood still, staring directly back at Telon. Gulac’s look was one of pain, but also one that spoke of a long-held secret that had finally escaped. It was of a secret that, although he was committed to keep, he also gained relief at the giving up of it. The truth was finally out.

  Telon quickly looked to Tegan, whose face was not of surprise and doubt, but of worry. “What is he talking about,” Telon asked, inviting anyone to answer.

  Argus was not aware of the secret and had a more urgent concern before he passed. He struggled to speak but knew his time was limited. He clasped Gulac’s hand, breaking his connection with Telon. He pulled Gulac close. “I am sorry. You must forgive me!” Argus begged of Gulac.

  Gulac mistook the apology, “It is all right my old friend. You could not have known that Telon was unaware.” The words further shocked Telon, who backed away from the table, dropping the medicine in his hand.

  Argus saw Gulac misunderstood his confession, “No. It was I. I am the reason you were captured!” Argus lay pained, unable to look at Gulac.

  Gulac saw Argus was close to death. Telon would need to wait a little longer. “There is nothing to forgive old friend. You could not have prevented my capture. I did survive and have come back to show them where the castle is.”

  The words of Gulac’s forgiveness meant nothing to Argus. If anything, it drove more pain into his riddled body. Argus intently locked eyes with Gulac as he lay just a few short breaths from death, “I am the one! I turned you over to them, to save my people!”

  Each word he delivered took more effort, as blood from his injuries began to show from his mouth and gurgle his speech. He shook badly, but was determined to meet his end with a clean conscience.

  Gulac was the one pained, as he marked Argus as his closest ally. He, for the first time, realized Argus was the one that set up his capture and the many following years of imprisonment and torture at Herrog’s hand. He was not afforded the time to react as Argus seized on the table. Telon snapped out of his own trance and tried to help the wounded elf, but he could do nothing further. He could not mend the damage to Argus, just as Argus could not repair the damage from his last words to Telon and Gulac. Argus passed.

  Telon stood, again scanning the room and those before him. Much of his body covered in the blood of the dead elf. “Is it true?” he demanded, looking to Tegan, who searched for the words. Gulac answered for Tegan, “Yes.”

  Telon absorbed the blow. Its force knocked him severely. He brushed past Tegan and out the door. He entered the cold world outside and never felt more alone. Tegan followed, not wanting Telon to handle this by himself.

  Just after Tegan left the door an elf woman entered, it was Philomena, Argus’s wife. The gargoyles saved her from a cage and she rushed quickly to the table. Her search was over as she found her injured husband, only to discover she was too late. She held his hand and wept. Only after several moments passed did she notice the dwarf standing on the other side of the table.

  She stepped back, looking at Gulac, gasping, “You lived.” She could not believe her eyes, as she never expected to see him again. “Did he see you before he passed?”

  “Yes,” Gulac replied, hoping she would have answers to his many questions.

  She stared at him for a second and then looked back to Argus. “He was troubled of his decision from the day he made it. It was his hardest thing, and even though it saved our people, he always felt he failed the test. You will want to know more, but right now I need to say goodbye to my husband.” Her body quivered at the loss brought to her that day. Gulac allowed her the time she needed.

  Gulac bowed and took one more look to Argus before he ambled from the tent with the help of Quelna. As they left, the wizard surmised, “Much evil was unveiled today. The seeds of which were wrought many years ago. It is a bitter day.”

  Gulac brushed off the wizard’s grim words, “Not for me.”

  Chapter 18: The Secret

  Telon stood overlooking a meandering stream that was barely fast enough to escape the freezing temperatures. Snow lightly fell as he stared at the water as it rushed between the islands of rock and ice. He watched as the water changed course often in its path, even as it flowed ever downhill. It trickled here and then there, twisting and turning as it went. Seldom did it take a straight shot and only at those rare moments was it rushed. Water had no mind to tell it where to go and seemingly no urge to go anywhere. It was called and pulled, ever downward and only downward. When the call ceased and no downward pull was present, the water slowed and pooled. When the call returned the water fell quickly in whatever direction the call pulled it. It made sense to him. He desired the occurrences of his life make the same sense.

  He heard Tegan approaching and calmly asked his brother without turning, “How long did you know?” He could not look at Tegan, his pain still too great.

  “I found out not long ago. We were looking for the right time, we wanted to p
rotect you.” Tegan, more than anything, did not want to hurt his brother.

  “Protect me? Since when did I need protected?” Telon asked, ready to address him. He spun quickly on Tegan, his anger rising to a controlled boil. Telon felt as if he was being called, pulled, and ever downward.

  Tegan knew not what to say. He fumbled awkwardly and could not find the right words.

  “Tell me what you know, everything. And please, spare me the favor of protecting me.” Spite dripped from Telon’s words.

  “Brother,” Tegan started, addressing Telon in the usual way. Tegan pained also as Telon winced at the word, but he continued, “It was less than a moon cycle ago that Gulac told me. He begged me not to tell you. It was a promise he made to Deyanira that he would not let you know the secret. From what I know, he loved her dearly, even after learning of her desire to be with Moro, which was shortly after she was with Gulac’s child. He loved her still. Gulac wanted to give her what he could, so he left Tunder Bin to allow her what she wanted. This was right after Sera’s death. That was all I know.”

  “More than enough to tell me. More than enough,” Telon shot back, his voice stern.

  “Do you not think this news was hard for me to hear also? It pains me to my heart for many reasons. Deyanira and that stone wrought much evil. That evil may have even killed my own mother.” Tegan’s head was also spinning, thinking the worst of every scenario, which is when evil truly wins.

  Telon heard Tegan’s words and the truth in them soothed his anger slightly. He acknowledged to himself how difficult it would have been for Tegan, but it didn’t wipe the slate clean. He walked toward Tegan, addressing him closely, “You should have told me.” His spite still thick.

  “Yes. I will forever be sorry for that,” Tegan offered and owned.

  “So Gulac is my father, not Moro?” Telon asked. He wanted to make sure he had it right. The words were hard to say but, ones he needed to hear.

  “I believe it to be so,” Tegan reluctantly agreed.