by Susan Faw
The fragile strands drifted in the currents of air. Caerwyn swore they were hunting living beings. Attracted to motion, they would wind their tendrils around any creature that crossed their path, twisting in the breeze to float down onto an unsuspecting arm, softly wrapping itself around and around. Microscopic barbs set against the tug as the victim moved on, unaware of the plant’s activities. The stinging vegetation went out of their way to slap up against flesh, and Caerwyn swore one plant was actually following them as they finally reached the edge of the swamp.
He did not need to encourage his men to keep going; they had no desire to linger within the confines of the swamp.
Three days and nights after their exit from the swamp brought the Kingsmen to the crest of a ridge. The River Erinn came into view, a ribbon of dark in a flattish flood plain, dotted with willow trees.
The last gasp of night faded before the blush of the predawn sun.
Caerwyn sat his Pegasus at the head of the assembled army, watching the approach of the warriors under Alfreda’s watch. The spirit clan warriors moved with the precision of clockwork. Even the battering mammoths swaying gait kept rhythm with the marching clansmen.
Caerwyn could only see them from his vantage point because of the flickering torches held by the lead warriors. They crept out of the darkness of the southern plain, the moon long since set. It would be the better part of the day before they were able to merge their two forces and march on the mountain.
Caerwyn turned Brimstone back to face the mountain. A never-ceasing glow could be seen flickering on the side of the mountain near the summit. Smoke curled and twisted into the air, forming a dense mushroom-shaped cloud with a pink underbelly. Lightning flashed within the roiling smoke, and occasionally a bolt would stab down toward the rocky base.
Helga had planned her distraction well, for between himself and the fiery ledge, a Primordial host stood, watching their approach. He grimaced with distaste. Civil war...he had never wanted it to come to this.
He dug his heels into Brimstone’s side and launched into the air.
***
From the banks of the ford of the River Erinn, the Primordial clan chief of the flesh tribes watched as the horizon resolved into a skyline thick with mounted Kingsmen. Vertical pikes broke the sky like the sharpened pole fences of a wooden fortress, stretching the entire width of the valley, from river to treeline. The Kingsmen were set six men deep with archers and swordsmen filling in the last two files. Heavy armour plate glinted off the bodies of the horses, reflecting the first rays of morning, refracting over the curvature of the earth.
A Kingsmen rode back and forth in front of the men, a long thin trumpet strung with the sky blue flag of the Royal house of Cathair along its length. Caerwyn lifted the trumpet and blew a long shivering blast on the horn as he galloped past the orderly rows. The front row snapped a salute as he passed, a sea of arms like the curl of a cresting wave.
The flesh clan chief, Akecheta, a necklace of neck bones decorating the front of his skins, sat astride his black and white paint, stroking its muscular neck, comforting the high-strung mountain-bred stallion. It snorted, catching the scent of the other horses across the valley, and whinnied with excitement.
The Primordial warriors, their barebacked mounts snorting and shuffling, crowded in around the clan chief and gestured toward the approaching army jabbering excitedly to one another.
“Enough!” Caerwyn roared, “Do you wish the enemy to see you flapping around like chickens with a fox in their midst? Do you want them to see us as afraid?” His dark glare made heads drop in shame, avoiding his hawkish gaze. “Daimon be praised,” he spat. “Cease this babbling! Rein in your mounts!”
The milling warriors stilled their horses, forming a loose row facing the intruders and the murmuring ceased. The clan chief rode in front then circled behind the outnumbered clansmen, his stallion snapping at the other horses as he passed. He scanned their heavily painted faces, searching for any trace of fear. No warrior would admit to it. Fear was for the weak, and the penalty was death. Painted onto the skin of some were crude depictions of creatures thought to reside in the underworld. Others wore Daimon masks decorated with glowing charcoal eyes that granted a flickering life to the fierce images. Every warrior brought their spirit guardian to battle; none would dare fight without their protection this day. Today they would face Kingsmen and kin, cousins who called the traitorous spirit tribes home.
A gust of wind roared down the mountainside and gusted out onto the plain, hot and sulphur-scented. It burned the nostrils and coughing broke out in the ranks. It sped past the flesh clan warriors and eyes watered in its wake. Akecheta wheeled around to stare at the mountain, scowling at the source of the offending wind. The mountain rumbled and the cloud of smoke flashed as an eruption of rock and lava spewed from the rent in its side. Boulders of rock shot into the air and sailed in a slow arch past his warriors and out into the plain. The mounted Kingsmen shouted a warning, and their lines were abruptly broken as men and horses dodged the flaming missiles landing amongst their ranks.
Cheers rose from the Primordial warriors and shouts of glee as the mountain continued to spew its fiery belly skyward. Small fires sprung up, burning across the grassy plain, and smoke drifted across the parched surface, spreading quickly. A wall of fire created a barrier between the enemy armies.
“Daimon be praised!” shouted the flesh clan fighters. “Our guardians go before us!”
“The Gods are pleased!” shouted another.
“Victory will be ours!”
“Honour to the high priests! They show us the will of the Gods!”
There was no fear in their eyes now; their faith renewed, they faced the enemy boldly. Assurance that victory would be theirs gleamed in every painted face.
***
Caerwyn felt the shock wave from the explosion before he heard it, but it was the projectiles of pumice and ash that drew his eyes as balls of fire roared out from the missing face of the mountain crater.
Brimstone screamed and attempted to dodge the flaming bullets but several tore into his wing, puncturing it, others burning along hip and flank. Caerwyn struggled to steer his panicking mount to the west, but the fiery debris rained down on them as the mountain continued to belch. His eyes watered with the acrid smoke. As he cleared his vision, he spied a hollow tucked in against the base of the mountain. Brimstone tumbled toward the surface, and Caerwyn sawed on the reins to steer him toward what was the only sanctuary in sight. The ground rushed up toward him, and at this speed, even he could be killed if he were to make impact with the ground. Caerwyn kicked his feet free of the stirrups and slid further back on his saddle, readying himself to jump at the last second.
A sizzling pellet sliced across Brimstone’s cheek and tore through the main muscle of the wing, which folded under the combined weight of Brimstone and Caerwyn. The Pegasus spun around and around, a maple leaf tossed in the wind. With a crash, the Pegasus struck the ground and rolled, a tangle of wings and mane and tail, tossing Caerwyn over his back. He flew through the air and his head smacked hard against an upright grey stone pillar. Bright stars popped across his vision, and he knew no more.
Chapter 18
Mordecai
Mordecai stood up on the seat of the wagon, peering toward the mountain. Great plumes of smoke rose from its crest, and fiery breaches could be seen in the stone façade despite the dark that clung to the mountainside in the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t the roaring mountain that drew his eye. Below the summit, partway down the mountainside a nimbus glowed, a flattish blue aura that was neither cloud nor smoke. Brighter than the rock face, it throbbed with light and life.
“Father, what is that place?” he asked.
Hud followed his son’s pointed finger, but his eyes were not as keen as Mordecai’s. Or what he is looking at, is magical, he thought.
“What is it you see? I see the mountain erupting and lots of clouds and smoke.”
“Do you see that
blue disk? It sits there, just above that outcropping of pinkish rock.” He stared at the spot his lips pursed, hand still pointing in the direction of his gaze.
Hud shook his head. “I’m sorry Son, but I cannot see it. Why do you ask?”
“Because that is where I need to be. Can you take me there?”
“It is behind the Primordial lines. How do you expect us to get there?”
“We can fly. The king brought extra Pegasus.” Mordecai pointed to a snowy white Pegasus grazing alongside three other Pegasus at the rear of the Kingsmen. “Her name is Moonbeam. That is her true name. She told me.” He grinned and pushed the blanket-covered box to the edge of the floor before hopping down from the wagon. Grabbing the box, Mordecai ran over to the Pegasus. “She told me I could ride her.”
Hud jumped down from the wagon and followed his son over to the Pegasus. Moonbeam lifted her slim head and chewed a mouth full of grass, eyeing their approach. She snorted and flapped her wings then settled them against her sides and went back to grazing.
Behind Moonbeam, a great cat bounded through the grass, a woman on her back. Hud raised his hand in greeting. “My lady!” he said and bowed low.
“Cinda!” cried Mordecai, as Alfreda rode up to the pair of them. She halted the cat short of the Pegasus and slid to the ground then hurried over to the pair of them.
“Where is Caerwyn?” she said anxiously, eyes searching the area for her brother.
“He is in the air with Brimstone,” Hud said, alarmed at the frantic look on her face. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, he is in danger, and I cannot reach him. He is not answering my summons. Something is definitely wrong!”
“We must search for him then. The only ones who could find Brimstone are the Pegasuses. We were going to take Moonbeam here and go check out an area by the mountain that has caught Mordecai’s attention.”
“I will join you then.” Alfreda turned around and spied a third, toffee-coloured Pegasus. “I will ride Sandstorm.”
“Somehow, it seems appropriate to ride a Sandstorm and Moonbeam to search for elusive Brimstone. It could get hot before we are finished.” Hud flashed a crooked smile, amused.
Alfreda gave him a weak smiled in return. Cinda nudged Alfreda’s arm, and she yowled, complaining about the change in plans. Her tail twitched and her golden eyes narrowed at the commotion around her, ears twitching. “Not this time, Cinda. I must fly!” Cinda rubbed up against Alfreda and then rolled onto her side, begging a bell scratch. Smiling weakly, Alfreda scratched her soft belly, and straightened.
Mordecai was already scrambling onto the back of Moonbeam. “So what are you waiting for?” he called “Let’s get going!”
Hud pulled himself up behind his son and Alfreda caught up Sandstorm and swung onto his back. With a heel to flank, the Pegasuses launched into the air, wings sweeping quick beats to carry them skyward. The ground shrank away and the men shrank to the size of wooden toys. With swift strokes, the Pegasus pulled higher into the sky then leveled off to coast on an updraft from the mountain. The wind was thick with a foul stench that made their eyes water and made them tuck their faces in against their sleeves.
With a roar, the mountain exploded and great chunks of flaming debris arced across the sky, raining down on the troops below. Kingsmen fell like dominos, dodging the deadly missiles.
Hud was suddenly thankful for the height that the Pegasus had climbed to, as they now flew above the debris field, but the wind became white hot, the erupting mountain super-heating the air. Whirlwinds of flame created violent updrafts and downdrafts that sucked at the Pegasus, who struggled to not be pulled into the flaming trailers in the sky.
Mordecai pulled ahead of Alfreda on Moonbeam, intent on the location only he could see. She put Sandstorm nose to tail with Moonbeam, and together they swept toward the bubbling mountainside.
As they crossed over the Primordial forces, faces turned upward and arms pointed and an arrow or two was loosed in their direction, but they fell short and tumbled back to earth. Alfreda looked back over her shoulder, searching the clan for the high priest...or high priestess if that was who was truly in charge...but she could not pick out anyone to fit that description in the crowd of clansmen.
They crossed the River Erinn. Once on the north side of the river, the buffeting winds ceased and they were able to descend through the caustic smoke, coughing and holding their sleeves over their noses through the dense vapours. The heat tore at their throats and scorched the exposed skin on their faces.
The hair on Hud’s skull rose. I wonder if it will burst into flame.
They passed through the cloud.
“There it is!” shouted Mordecai. He urged Moonbeam on toward what now appeared to be a crater on the mountainside. A blue aura hung over the tree-lined clearing. In the center, large upright stones formed a circle from which the blue mist emanated.
The Pegasuses dropped lower, and one by one they landed in the far end of the clearing, knee-deep in the meadow grass. A whicker came from the long shadows reaching half way across with the setting of the sun. Brimstone stepped forward from the shadow, limping, wings dragging on the ground.
With a gasp, Alfreda slid from Sandstorm’s back and ran over to the injured Pegasus.
“Where is Caerwyn, Brimstone?” She edged around Brimstone, careful to not touch the deep burns running across his chest and flank. Brimstone rolled his eyes and bared his teeth in warning.
“Mordecai, Hud, go into the forest and gather some witch hazel. Quickly!”
“But, Alfreda, you need to know...” Mordecai broke off as gave him a push towards the woods. Hud grabbed Mordecai’s hand and tugged him along behind him. They ran off up the path past the stones and disappeared into the woods.
Alfreda turned back to Brimstone. “Where is Caerwyn? Where is he, boy?” Alfreda opened her mind, searching for her brother. Caerwyn, can you hear me? Her mind quested, searching the link of the bond they shared, but was as if he had disappeared. A stone cold wall was the only sensation where normally there would be a tangled web of emotions.
Alfreda turned on the spot, eyes searching the strange clearing. The stone placement was of recent date, the stone freshly quarried, and the soils around it showing recent activity. In the broad circle, several rings narrowed to focus on a white disk. She frowned and took a step toward the rune-covered stones. Artio, this is your handiwork, isn’t it?
At that moment, a shout echoed from the woods. “My lady, Alfreda, come quickly!” A shiver of apprehension slide down her back, but she did not need any further calls from Hud, Caerwyn’s silence was all the excuse she needed. She hiked up her skirts and ran for the path into the trees.
Alfreda pushed through the scrub brush and into the forest, following Hud’s call, but the forest was dark with the descent of night. She stumbled down the path. As she leapt over a thick root, slimy hands grabbed her arms. A cloth was shoved over her face, smelling strongly of petrol. She struggled to get it off her face, but her consciousness faded and she sagged limply in the Charun’s hands. They turned as one and floated away into the woods.
Hud kept a hand clamped tightly over his son’s mouth, the other arm around his waist, keeping him still and silent.
After several moments of silence, he relaxed his hold.
“The Queen!” Mordecai whimpered, and a big tear rolled down his cheek.
“You knew this was coming, Mordecai. You were the one who told me.” His father wiped the tear off his cheek and pulled him onto his lap.
“Yes, but I didn’t want it to happen. I wish the box had been wrong.” Another tear leaked out from under eyes squeezed tight.
“Caerwyn will understand. So will Alfreda. You must trust them.” Mordecai nodded then buried his face in his father’s chest and sobbed.
Chapter 19
Artio
Artio exited the cave at the end of the meadow. As she straightened, she stopped so abruptly that Genii plowed into the back of her. He grab
bed her around the waist to keep them both from toppling over.
“Pegasuses!” she breathed, watching the winged mounts. “Caerwyn is here somewhere.” Her eyes scanned the clearing, but nothing stirred other than the Pegasus gorging on the lush grass.
The mountain rumbled, and her eyes were drawn to the summit towering above them. “The mountain grows restless. Whatever is happening inside that mountain is giving it a belly ache. I fear we will live to regret what that is.”
“Come. The light fades. We must prepare.”
Genii reached back inside the cave and pulled out a rucksack and slung it over his shoulder and followed Artio down the sloping pasture to the great circle of rock. The sun was already hidden behind the treetops and long fingers of shadow stretched to cover more than half of the clearing. Artio took the sack from Genii’s hands and loosened the drawstrings and then reached inside to pull out the two lumps of moon rock. She handed them to Genii before reaching back inside and pulling out the collection of vials.
The first vial contained tiny grains of crushed diamond that sparkled in the low light. Artio crossed into the circle and knelt on the white circle then pulled the stopper and emptied the contents of the vial into the bowl. Genii then placed the two chunks of meteorite in the center of the diamonds.
Returning to the satchel, Artio removed the remaining two vials, both of them containing the purple elixir provided to them by Calleigh. A catalyst, she had called it, to enhance the spells cast.
Artio returned to Genii and gave him one of the vials. She sat on one side of the circle and he sat down opposite her, cross-legged, facing Artio, knees touching. The sun faded and the light of the day waned. As the clearing darkened, the bowl of diamond twinkled, seemingly lit from within. But the source of the light was the moonstones, which initially pulsed weakly but gained strength as the light faded.
