The old angel’s motionless form lay at the slope’s base as his staff rested a few yards away, still glowing and patiently awaiting its master’s grip.
◆◆◆
Waremasu walked through the cavern. He smiled as he felt the cold stone floor. There was a sharp depression carved in the polished stone. He stopped and intuitively glanced over it. After a brief moment, a single word rang within his mind—dragon. The depression was carved in the floor by a large claw, the shape indicative of a larger breed.
The angel straightened up and peered into the darkness. His glowing charm gave off a rather small radius of light. He was not fearful of dragons, but he would have enjoyed knowing what stood beyond his small circle of light. After a short time, he shrugged off the thought and smiled once more as he continued. His cloak only moved from the slight drop induced from his shoulders as he took each step.
His mind was clear until he started to notice scorch marks along the cave walls. He did not stop to inspect them. Instead, he grabbed his katana’s hilt. The angel’s smile faded and he focused on his surroundings, aware of what could happen. After a short time, he stopped and could tell the floor before him sloped down at a very steep angle. He looked over the edge and could see a faint glowing light at the slope’s bottom. From his position, the light was too far away for him to discern its identity.
Waremasu looked around and noticed the narrow corridor turning into a large open room. The walls faded away to both sides, and the ceiling immediately rose. The floor before him suddenly dropped and sloped steeply downward. He could not see an easy route down the sharp gradient, though he shrugged and smiled under the concealment of his cloak. He moved closer to the edge and sat down. One hand gripped the bottom of his cloak as he folded his feet up inside. His other hand gripped his conical hat’s front lip and pulled it down. He pushed off the edge and began the long slide down the slope, wrapped up within his cloak.
If anyone had been around to witness the event and could have seen through the dark veil surrounding Waremasu’s face, then they would have noticed for the first time his white teeth fully showing as he shot down the glasslike surface of the obsidian slope at high speed. He was fully enjoying the slide. He even attempted to maneuver himself back and forth along the slope by flexing various limbs and muscles.
After some fun, the angel steadied himself and aimed his momentum toward the light below as he approached it. He relaxed and loosened his grip on his cloak. The cloak whipped up behind him from the friction, and he was flung up onto his feet. The slope rose and leveled off. Waremasu raced past the glowing object as his momentum began to burn off. He slowed his momentum and transitioned from a jog to a walk, and then he finally stopped.
He took a moment to readjust his clothing and hat. When he was content with his appearance, he turned around and walked back toward the glowing object. As he approached the object, he noticed it was a staff. He crouched down and inspected it briefly. He thought for a moment and shot his gaze out toward his surroundings. He stood up and held out the staff. It brightened, and the radius of light increased. As the light reached farther into the darkness, a body was revealed.
A name echoed within his mind: Zauvek.
Waremasu walked over to Zauvek’s motionless body. He paused for a second and looked up at the slope, understanding what had happened. He smiled at the absentminded old fool. He poked Zauvek in the back with the glowing staff—nothing happened. Then he jabbed the staff into Zauvek’s back a second time. Zauvek shifted from the jabbing sensation and groaned.
“Stop that, you irritating animal!” Zauvek rolled over with weak conviction. The old angel’s eyes focused, and he soon realized an animal did not prod his back. “Inconsiderate bird. I should have known you would find me. What unfortunate rock did you land on?” Zauvek grumbled as he picked himself up off the ground.
Waremasu lifted his hand and pointed a finger. His finger wrote glowing orange words in the air: I woke up peacefully on a path.
“You woke up peacefully?” Zauvek said. “Wait, why are you not talking?”
Waremasu wrote in the air: My voice is cursed.
“Cursed how? Do you speak like a little girl? Talk. I want to hear your little-girl voice.”
Waremasu shook his head and wrote, If I talk, it will cause you great pain.
Zauvek produced a smile. “Come on. Talk.”
Waremasu shook his head.
“Fine,” Zauvek grumbled. “You are no fun at all. Wretch.”
Waremasu wrote, Cranky old man.
“If I am a cranky old man, then you are an annoying little child,” Zauvek shouted.
Waremasu threw the staff at Zauvek in disdain.
Zauvek laughed. “Just like a child, throwing a fit—” Suddenly, Zauvek’s chest burned and ached, a sharp pain stung his heart. He paused and put a hand to his chest, though he tried to hide his weakness from his companion, and after a moment the pain subsided. He no longer wished to banter.
He motioned to Waremasu. “We should find our way out of here.”
The old angel moved deeper into the cavernous room, and Waremasu followed in his naturally calm demeanor. Zauvek had not walked far before his foot kicked an unusual object. He bent over and picked it up. It was a golden gourd with decoratively placed rubies. Waremasu dropped a heavy hand on Zauvek’s shoulder and pointed one of his fingers forward. Zauvek followed the implied direction as his eyes widened. Before them stood a miniature mountain of golden chalices, jewelry, and coins.
Zauvek lobbed the gourd away. “Aye, seems we might be on the deserving end from now on,” he said. He looked at the giant beast sitting atop the mountain of treasure. “Only one?”
The dragon’s head lifted, and it stared at the two strangers.
“This should prove easy enough . . . Waremasu?” Zauvek turned around and saw Waremasu slowly backing away. “Thinking of leaving me?”
Waremasu pointed forward. Zauvek spun around and saw the situation evolving before them. The dragon’s hornless head hovered above the ground five yards before Zauvek.
The old angel grumbled.
He took on a more serious demeanor, straightened his body, and rose with the strength of his own two legs. He held his staff at one end and lifted it overhead. The dragon slowly opened its maw as it salivated for a meal.
Zauvek swung his staff downward. The dragon’s head slammed into the ground with unforeseen force as if it was struck from above. The impact of the dragon’s head shook the cave, and dirt was thrown up in all directions. When the dirt cleared, blood glistened atop the dragon’s head, yet Zauvek had not physically touched the dragon.
The dragon shook its head in stunned recognition of the attack and peered up into the darkness in curiosity. After a moment of confusion, it glanced back down at the small man standing below and roared in irritation. Both opponents stood firm and uncompromising in a brief silence. Several more roars sounded from the darkness. Seven more dragons emerged into the dim light of Zauvek’s staff. The new dragons stood twice as tall and several times as wide. The first dragon was evidently a youngling.
“Hah! Now, how is this a fair fight? I demand we re-pick sides!” Zauvek glanced around with a smirk. “I demand that you be on my side.” He pointed at the largest dragon.
The old angel felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He glanced over and saw Waremasu standing beside him, shaking his head. Waremasu pointed up to the ceiling, and Zauvek followed the directional cue with his eyes. As Zauvek peered into the darkness above, Waremasu launched a swift punch into Zauvek’s stomach. Zauvek doubled over, and Waremasu caught him. Waremasu hoisted Zauvek onto his shoulder, then glanced around and noticed the ring of dragons readying for an offensive. He picked up one leg in preparation for beginning to run, and he grasped his hat with his free hand. His foot hit the floor, and a tunnel of wind rushed around him. He ran between several huge legs and disappeared into the darkness. The dragons were left staring at where the strangers had been standing, baffled at
their sudden disappearance. The dragons had witnessed no more than a blur and a rush of wind as Waremasu shot out of sight.
Waremasu raced down the cave corridors with remarkable speed and only the staff to light his way. He turned corners on a thread’s width, a blurred mass flying down the dark hallways. The cave grew lighter, and soon the glowing trinkets ceased their usefulness. He shot out into the blinding sunlight with Zauvek on his shoulder. The sky was clear, and the sun was high above the horizon. The path sloped down from the cave exit, and a beautiful green landscape spread before them.
Zauvek wiggled about as he tried to break free of the unforgiving hold on him. “Release me, Waremasu!” he shouted into Waremasu’s ear.
Waremasu slowed to a stop and did as Zauvek commanded, and at once the old angel regretted it. He groaned as he fell unflatteringly to the ground. Zauvek picked himself up as quickly as his old bones would allow. He brushed himself off and gave Waremasu a look of displeasure.
“Hmph. Dragons are weak, Waremasu. Twenty would have been too few for a fair fight. Why did you steal my enjoyment?” Zauvek said with a slow, raspy voice. A series of coughs followed his words. and blood trickled from his lips.
Waremasu wrote in the air, Their lives were not ours to take.
Zauvek leaned on his faithful staff. “Our obligation is not to this world. It does not matter if a few dragons die or even if a mountain range collapses. As long as Razbijen succeeds, then we need not fear what else happens. The rest of the world does not matter. Mere mortals die every day.”
Waremasu wrote, If you take an innocent life, then I shall take yours in retribution. His hand found his katana’s hilt.
Zauvek sighed.
“Waremasu, your compassion for the weak confounds me.” He turned his back on Waremasu. “I will be kindlier to the weak if they warrant my pity. Forfeit will any mortal’s life be should they stand before me in opposition. You very well know what will happen should we reach Razbijen too late. A Corrupted Temperean Event has begun. Darkness will sweep over the land, and a dark one will reign.”
A reassuring hand fell on Zauvek’s shoulder. The narrow darkness between the rim of Waremasu’s conical hat and his high collared cloak peered down into Zauvek’s weary eyes.
The old angel looked away, as he knew the truth of his deceit was still unrevealed to Waremasu. The divided angel had been an accomplice to Zauvek’s true plans but remained oblivious to the truth. Why the Divine One would not reveal the truth to Waremasu, he did not know, but the Divine One was wisdom itself, and the reason would present itself in time. If his unaware ally found out that he was the one who began the Corrupted Temperean Event and that he was the one yearning for dominion over Verdunmull, not Razbijen, then the battle between them would only end with one of their deaths.
The old man’s eyes rose again and searched the impenetrable darkness blocking Waremasu’s face. He sighed as if a giant sat on his shoulders.
“You hide beneath such unbefitting clothing. Do not let your shame consume you, Waremasu,” he said, and then looked away from his companion. “Let us go.”
Zauvek began his undulating walk down the path, and Waremasu joined him.
“It is a welcome feeling to have you by my side, Waremasu. My feeble mind would be hard pressed to make the journey alone,” Zauvek confessed, though fear shadowed his words.
Chapter 3
“The Charge”
“An unshackled guest will be invited onto the lands, sowing bedlam in the fields.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 2:4
All that remained of the night’s campfire was an ash pile surrounded by a rock ring. Three elven scouts wearing Harmaalinnian army uniforms stood around the smoldering campfire. The Harmaalinna Kingdom’s emblem was embroidered on the back of their dark-green cloaks. A family of three serving together among the ranks of the army was an unusual sight; an approval from the king was required for family members to serve together.
The scouts had their hoods raised in order to protect their faces from the cold bite of the morning wind, which caused their breath to be visible. The sun could not be seen, though the sky was growing lighter in the early morning twilight. The mountain range to the north slowly reappeared out of the fading night. The scouts stood on the eastern Gashindran Plains, between the town of Darnum to the east and the Giant’s Playground to the west. They were conducting a routine reconnaissance as they did every week in this part of the plains.
Their westward scouting expedition was a search for the whereabouts and activities of the Nathra race. Nathra had plagued the Harmaalinna Kingdom before, little jumpers with long canines and claws. The semi-intelligent carnivorous creatures had the ability to understand language but lacked the developed vocal cords required to converse in more than basic chirps. Their orange fur and black stripes camouflaged them, a dangerous trait of the pack hunter. They were a threat worth keeping an eye on.
The scouts were finally ready to depart as the sun began to rise over the horizon, and the summer morning brightened.
The senior scout set forth his command. “Faolan and Auvelia, I received a report overnight by a messenger peregrine falcon. An archer manning the south walls two evenings ago informed Gavina of an unidentifiable creature seen near the end of twilight, tracking westward along the edge of the Mythios Woods. The setting rays did not provide enough light for him to discern what type of creature it could be, so Gavina requested that we also keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
“Very well, dear,” Auvelia replied.
“Faolan, you will scout to the west at the Giant’s Playground in search of any Nathra, in an effort to prove the gathering of packs. We will meet you there after your mother and I scout the forest’s edge to the south. We will be searching for any trace of this unidentified roaming beast, though I suspect it’s just a stray buck or ursa roaming beyond the forest’s edge. I trust you will make wise choices?” the leader said.
The lowest-ranked scout nodded at his leader and father and inquired, “If the packs are joining and a Nathra charge looks to be forming, how should I proceed?”
“You should alert Darnum at once; do not wait for us. If you suspect a charge is forming and their attack eminent, then go straightaway. I am sure we will hear the rolling roar of their ricochetal thumps,” Kellen firmly advised.
“Understood, Father.” Faolan accepted his leader’s command.
Faolan departed and made his way toward the west.
The leader turned to his wife, and commanded, “Stay close, Auvelia.”
“Of course, my love,” Auvelia said. “But Kellen, do you believe it wise to send the boy off alone?”
Kellen was confident in his decision and responded, “He must become strong from within, and we cannot coddle him forever. There is a limit to what he will gain from our instruction and protection. He needs to regain his independence and confidence. He needs to move past his amnesia and not let it define him. We adopted him as our child, though we do not know if he is a child at all or where he came from. He needs to build a new life, and it’s about time.”
She trusted her husband and accepted his decision.
The two scouts departed from the campsite, as Kellen sprinted toward the south, with his wife close behind. The capable female elf followed with ease because she could run much faster than her husband due to his heavy great sword’s weight. She never understood why her husband chose such a cumbersome weapon as she believed it was rather unbefitting of an elf.
Auvelia glanced off toward the east and watched the sun rise over the horizon with a shielding hand. The rising sun turned the clouds vibrant shades of pink and orange.
Another day had begun, and they executed their roles as usual. As of late, Kellen had sent Faolan off alone more frequently. The father hoped one day his son would strive to be a general among the ranks of the elven army, following in his footsteps. He had been a general himself for a time and had occasionally voiced his opinion to his son about his potential.
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Faolan’s excursions were meant to increase his independence, or at least Auvelia guessed as much. She knew her husband all too well, but she felt Faolan’s fighting style was still too sloppy and rather unorthodox to warrant any notice from the king. Her son was not exactly what the king would look for when choosing a general for his grand army.
“Open your eyes, Auvelia,” Kellen said when he saw her distracted gaze.
Auvelia snapped out of her thoughts and glanced forward as she realized the forest had snuck up on her, and they quickly crossed the last hundred yards to the forest’s edge. She scanned the trees for movement as they slowed to a walk, and they entered into the Mythios Woods in search for anything abnormal.
She inspected the moist ground and saw tracks left by elk and squirrels. The perceptive scout moved farther into the forest, pausing after a moment. She removed her green hood and revealed her soft, pale face topped with long blonde hair. Her beautiful blue eyes located an odd set of tracks.
She crouched down and inspected the unusual footprints. They were single-toed hooves, yet the hooves were much too large for any species native to the Mythios Woods. She followed the tracks a short distance and came across an object stuck in the mud. The intrigued scout crouched down and picked it up for closer inspection. After a short examination, she realized it was a fragment of a recurved horn. From the fragment’s size, she estimated the full horn to be three feet tall.
Auvelia called out. “Kellen, come look at this!”
Her husband came running. “What have you found?”
“A piece of a horn.” She glanced up at him with a puzzled expression. “There are no horned species native to this area.”
Verdunmull Page 2
