Verdunmull

by Jared Zakarian

  “You are strange for an elf,” Zauvek said.

  “Yeah, I’ve been told that before. These other jokers standing next to me remind me all the time. I was born in Alon, a human town. I am half human and half elf,” the guard told the angel.

  “That explains a lot,” Zauvek said. “Where can I find this guardian who tamed the dragon?”

  “I believe he left town not too long ago and was heading over to the dwarven lands. He has to hold their hands or something, but do not tell the dwarf over there that I said that. He would not like it,” the guard said as he pointed to a burly dwarf with a gigantic war hammer.

  “I will not.” Zauvek gave the guard an odd look. “I should be going now.”

  “Right. Goodbye then.”

  Zauvek let the guard return to his duties. He thought about the dragon and the guardian who had managed to tame it. The beast was afraid of this person, a single person. Zauvek knew what dragons could see with their eyes and started to piece together the puzzle. The creature had been blindfolded because whatever the dragon saw was significant.

  Suddenly, an immense pain shot through his chest, and he dropped to his knees. A spray of blood exploded out of his mouth, and he grasped at his chest. A long moment passed as he stared at the ground, and with some time, the pain subsided. A pair of strong hands took a firm grip around his left arm and hoisted him back onto his feet.

  “Are you all right, old man?“ the half elf knight said.

  His gaze shifted slowly to look at the knight. “Yes, I will be fine.“

  “I can call you a healer, if you need one.“

  “No, that will not be necessary.“ Zauvek leaned on his staff. “Thank you, I must be going.“

  “Yes, sir.“ The knight released his arm.

  Zauvek walked away from the scene, and pushed his ailment aside.

  His mind drifted for a second as he realized he could no longer feel Razbijen’s presence. It had faded away, and he knew Razbijen was no longer here in the city. Zauvek was a bit irritated he had come so close to finding Razbijen without actually locating him. His mind toiled over his problems, and he walked back to the spot where he and Waremasu had parted ways. Hours passed without him moving from his position, and as the sun peaked in the sky, the image of the wagon and its four-horse accompaniment flashed into his mind. He had first felt the powerful sensation when they passed the group, and he quickly became unhappy with himself. He had not even glanced at the small group that had left Lesley earlier that morning.

  “Perhaps Razbijen is riding with this Faolan,” he mumbled to himself. He walked to the front gates of Lesley and approached the nearest guard.

  “Which way to the dwarven lands?” he asked.

  “East. Follow the road,” the guard said.

  Zauvek walked away from the guard without a word of gratitude, and at the same time, Waremasu walked up to him in his characteristically calm nature.

  The old angel was caught off guard and took a step back. “Oh, Waremasu, you scared me. I did not see you there.”

  Waremasu wrote in glowing script that he had not seen Razbijen, and he did not feel his presence any longer.

  “I know. He is no longer here, but I believe I know where he is going. Do you remember the small group we passed when walking in?” Zauvek asked.

  Waremasu nodded.

  “I believe he rides with them. They are headed east to the dwarven lands.”

  Waremasu listened.

  “I need you to find them. An elf by the name of Faolan may be with Razbijen. If Razbijen indeed rides with this Faolan, then follow them and leave indications as to which way you are headed so I may follow. They have several hours lead, and they are on horseback. A problem for me, but it should not be a problem for you.”

  Waremasu wrote his concerns: What if his memories return?

  “If he remembers, then I pray for your safety, my friend. I will try to move as quickly as I can, but I refuse to be carried.” Zauvek rested a hand on his ally’s shoulder.

  The wide conical hat tilted forward briefly in acceptance. Waremasu vanished, and Zauvek’s arm fell limp. Waremasu’s ability was not teleportation or invisibility but angelic speed. No eye could capture his movements; not even the light from the sun rivaled his speed.

  Zauvek sighed heavily and began the long walk east. His goal was to reach the dwarven lands unless Waremasu informed him otherwise. So he began his rhythmic one-two-three, the movement of his feet and staff. His mind grew heavy with concerns and doubts, with thoughts of what would come if the seals were opened. He thought of the five evils and their legions, which he knew he could have obliterated with his complete and unfragmented angel power; without it, there would be many tribulations should the seals begin to open. He looked at the forest’s edge, just beyond the curving wall of Lesley, and knew his future was grim whether Razbijen succeeded or failed. He had set all this in motion with a plan to rule it all and crush the evil beneath his feet, though neither of his possible outcomes appealed to him now as he believed he knew what punishment would be waiting for him either way.

  Chapter 15

  “The Stranger”

  “The angels will not be known for what they are. Mortals are easily swayed toward false gods. They shall hide in obscurity, for no glory is to come to them. The angels will only reveal their true nature if the war beckons.”

  The Ikalreev Prophecies 8:5–8

  The gigantic redwoods of the Mythios Woods blurred into a wall of reddish-brown and green. Waremasu took only seconds to run miles through the old woods and stopped when he reached a fork in the east road. It would take Zauvek hours to traverse the same distance. Waremasu’s hat swiveled as he looked between the three paths exiting the fork in the road. He glanced at the wooden signs and their indicated destinations.

  The road to the north led to Lithilias, the road to the northeast led to Dragdun, and the road to the southeast led to Odemar. The angel did not know which way Faolan’s group had traveled, and he was unfamiliar with the lands of Verdunmull. His angelic duties had never brought him to these lands because his charge had been to protect a land very, very far from here. So he picked methodically; he chose the northernmost road to travel down first and was gone in a flash.

  The forest blurred past him, and he traveled miles in seconds. He came to an abrupt stop as he neared a mountain range and believed he had traveled far enough. There was still no sign of the procession or any tracks to show recent travel in this direction. So he turned around and ran back to the fork in the road. He stopped in the middle of the fork, walked over to the tree nearest the sign for the northern road, and carved a large X into the bark with his katana.

  He resheathed his katana as he turned around and then vanished, racing down the northeastern road this time. Again, he traversed many miles in seconds and stopped as the tall forest thinned and began to turn into grassland. There was still no sign of the group; therefore, he turned around and raced back toward the fork in the road a second time.

  He stopped when he reached the fork, and a rush of wind billowed around him as his wake caught up to him. Waremasu moved over to the tree nearest the sign for the northeastern road, and again he carved a large X into the bark of the tree. After carving his second indication of a dead end, he walked toward the southeastern road, and before he left a third time, he carved an arrow into the bark of a tree. The arrow pointed down the southeastern road, indicating which path the old man should take.

  Waremasu vanished from the fork in the road for the last time.

  ◆◆◆

  Faolan’s group traveled at a quick and steady pace. Those on horseback kept pace with the wagon without trouble, and the group was moving as quickly as they could without exhausting their horses. They were headed toward the dwarven town of Odemar, and from the orange and red hues in the sky, they could tell the sun was nearing the horizon. Between the two lines of tall trees, they could see patchy clouds rolling overhead through the narrow clearing above the road.
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  “How much farther until we reach Odemar?” Leith asked Caedmon, who was running next to the wagon.

  “Not until tomorrow night,” Caedmon said.

  Leith looked over at Faolan. “Two days’ ride from Lesley. A good distance farther than Mor.”

  “Have you ever been to the dwarven towns?” Faolan asked.

  “Never, but I have heard about them.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “The towns are decent size, but the majority of the dwarven population lives in the caves dug into the cliff faces of the Verdunmull Scar. The dwarfs are a hardy people, and their trained soldiers live in the four cities to protect those mining in the caves. The cities are similar to citadels but have no walls, much like Lesley was before the giants.“ The healer thought for a second. “Do you know the story of the giants?“

  “No,” the young guardian admitted.

  “The giants attacked Lesley several times about a century ago. They were angry because some human thief stole magical stones from them and hid in our city,” Leith explained. “Their attacks are the reason the king built the inner and outer walls of Lesley. They are substantially taller than the castle’s walls, and I have always thought the short castle walls looked funny, compared to the outer ones.”

  Faolan listened to Leith’s story about the giants as he had never heard the tale before. He thought it was quite intriguing; he had thought the giants were rather docile before their discussion with the king. He had never heard of an attack or Treasach’s insinuations that they were dangerous, though he supposed they could be if provoked.

  Meanwhile, Aili and Auvelia were talking. Auvelia was riding close to the bench, and Aili switched positions with Faolan so she could more easily converse with Auvelia.

  “When did the two of you marry?” Aili inquired.

  Auvelia gave a quick laugh. “Oh, a very long time ago. I believe it has been three hundred and forty-seven years now.”

  “Wow! When did you two decide to have Faolan?” Aili wondered as he seemed young, but she did not know his exact age.

  “Oh, well . . . Faolan is not of our blood. When we found him, he was alone and wandering aimlessly without any recollection of who he was or where he had come from. He only wore his two oddly shaped swords and the most basic of coverings. So we decided to take care of him for a time while he got back on his feet. We provided him shelter at first, but he grew on us, and Kellen asked him if he wanted to stay with us. My husband promised to teach Faolan all he knew, and soon he became as a son to us,” Auvelia explained as she stared into the distance. “At the time, he was like a pup. Dull and uncoordinated.”

  “Do you know how old he is?”

  Auvelia felt she knew what all the questions were about and laughed softly. “Have you developed a fondness for Faolan?”

  The healer blushed. “Oh no. Of course not. I was just curious.”

  “It is fine by me if you do fancy him, dear. He needs someone to care for him just as much as anyone else does.” Auvelia had given her blessing. “To answer your question, we are unsure of his exact age, though we have known him for three years. We never figured out who his birth parents were. They could have been either elf or human. He has physical characteristics of both, so his past remains a mystery to us.”

  Aili asked a question they were all wondering. “Do you know why the dragon acted so oddly toward Faolan?”

  “No, dear. No one does. Odd things have always occurred around Faolan, and I could never explain their reasons.” Auvelia shook her head as brief memories of odd events flashed in her mind.

  Aili’s thoughts drifted to the vision she had experienced.

  Auvelia noticed the girl’s sudden silence. “Is everything OK?”

  Aili pulled herself from her memories. “Oh yes! I am fine.”

  “Have you kissed him?” Auvelia raised a brow.

  Aili glanced cautiously over at Faolan and saw he was deep in conversation with Leith about giants. She whispered in a hushed tone to his mother. “Just a peck on the cheek.”

  “Oh dear.” Auvelia giggled. “You will have to do more than that if you are interested.” She lowered her voice. “He is oblivious to the advances of ladies. I am sure he is interested in you, too, but I have seen it before. He does not catch the hints or know how to act on them. You will have to be obvious if you want him to understand.”

  Aili blushed from the direct conversation with Faolan’s mother. She was caught slightly off guard by Auvelia’s words. She was indeed interested in the young guardian and admired him for his sweet personality and protective nature, though she was not sure if she was prepared for such an overt gesture. It was unbecoming of a lady, and the idea was overwhelming. She shied away from the thought.

  “Your decision. If you find yourself truly interested, then worry not about being the initiator because it will not happen any other way. No complaints here—you are a fine elf maiden,” Auvelia assured her.

  Aili smiled at her and knew she had Auvelia’s blessing but was taken aback by her forwardness. Perhaps she was informal about it all because Faolan was not really her son, but she still cared for him as a mother and wanted what was best for him. The healer glanced at Faolan and wondered what the future would hold for them.

  A sudden rush of windswept all around them and then quickly subsided. The air had been motionless before because of the tall redwoods blocking any strong airflow. Strong winds would not normally permeate the forest as the stray gust had.

  “That was odd,” Treasach said.

  “What was?” Gavina asked.

  “Did you just feel that breeze?” Treasach wondered as he looked at the surrounding forest.

  “Yes, and what about it?” Gavina answered while noticing the prince’s worried gaze.

  “We should not feel any wind here. The redwoods should block it.”

  Gavina knew Treasach was right, but she did not think much of it because it was only wind. She shrugged her shoulders at Treasach, and the prince brushed off the odd wind as nothing important.

  Kellen and Caedmon had been silent for most of the trip. The old guardian had remained focused on the road and the trees. He had always heavily relied on his sight. His unconventional eyes allowed him to see the details of the world differently than those of a human or elf. Kellen had been watching and listening as well. His many years of service in the elven army had trained him to be aware at all times.

  Kellen moved his horse alongside the wolf and spoke with a quiet voice so as to not alarm the others. “Someone is following us.”

  Caedmon glanced up at him. “How do you know?”

  “It was not hard to figure out. He is walking in plain sight behind the wagon,” Kellen said.

  The old guardian maintained his speed while peering back over his shoulder and did indeed see the stranger following them. The stranger was not far behind the wagon and was enshrouded in odd apparel. Caedmon released his gaze and turned back around. “Keep the group moving and do not stop until you reach Odemar. I will meet you there.”

  The wolf slowed his pace, and as he stopped, the wagon passed him. Faolan turned around when he noticed Caedmon dropping behind. “Why are you stopping, Caedmon?” Faolan shouted.

  “Do not worry. Keep going, and I will catch up soon. My legs need a rest,” Caedmon lied.

  Faolan thought it odd the whole group did not stop with him, but the young guardian trusted Caedmon and relaxed. He turned back around in his seat and continued talking with Leith.

  Caedmon watched as the group traveled farther down the road, and when he was satisfied with their distance, he turned toward the west, standing between the stranger and his allies. The stranger had stopped a fair distance from the wolf, and Caedmon looked the individual over and saw no apparent movement.

  Waremasu moved ever so slightly as he grabbed his sword’s sheath with his left hand. He pressed the tsuba of his katana with the thumb of his left hand, popping the sword out an inch from its sheath. The
movement was so slow and concealed that Caedmon neither heard nor saw the movement beneath the man’s cloak. Waremasu’s hat rose, but when it looked as if his eyes would be revealed, they were not; instead a disturbing shroud of impenetrable darkness persisted around his face.

  “Who are you?” Caedmon questioned the unusual man.

  The stranger did not answer.

  “Why are you following us?”

  Again, the stranger did not answer.

  “Your silence appears unfriendly. Be you friend or foe?”

  The stranger slowly unsheathed his katana with his right hand and allowed the metal to sound as it slid out of its cover. Waremasu stepped forward and extended his sword arm. His hat rose and fell with each bob of his footsteps. Caedmon readied himself in apprehension as the individual approached.

  “I do not wish to harm you,” Caedmon insisted.

  The stranger stopped a dozen feet from Caedmon. The guardian was confused by the man’s actions, but he did not lower his guard.

  Waremasu wrote in the dirt with the tip of his sword so the letters were facing the wolf.

  R-A-Z-B-I-J-E-N

  Caedmon mouthed, “Raz-bi-jen . . . I do not understand.”

  Waremasu took another step forward and wrote in the dirt again: Name.

  “I do not know anyone by that name. Is it yours?” Caedmon wondered.

  The angel’s hat swiveled left and then right. He took another step forward and wrote in the dirt again: Yours?

  Caedmon tilted his head. “Caedmon Conn. What is your name?”

  The angel took another step forward, but he did not write his name, and he did not acknowledge the question. At that range, any person would be at the edge of their striking distance, but for Waremasu the term “striking distance” had no meaning for any distance from the angel was perilous.

  The angel wrote a warning in the dirt: Do not fight the old man. Waremasu took another step forward before Caedmon could say a word. Unforgiving.

  “And you are?” Caedmon asked.