Flames of Awakening: Faemoch Cycle Book 1

by Reynolds, Michael

"That's what I am trying to say to you, I don't understand why you have done this to yourself."

  "Why do you travel the far reaches of the world, righting wrongs along the way? Why do you use the very same weapon as the regal man from your dreams? Why do you surround yourself with precisely the right people for every major moment of your life? Because you must. As I must do as I do," the mystic shrugged at his visitor.

  Jaxius' concern deflated. Much as he disliked the answers given to him so far, he knew that repeating the questions, or rephrasing them, would only yield the same cryptic responses. He resigned himself to accepting the fate that was apparently heaped on him. Adding a nod to the sad expression on his face gave the ancient mystic all the reaction that he needed.

  "Now, listen. Yes?" The old man asked. Not waiting for a reply from his audience, he continued, "Since you left my tent to help sort out your friend's predicament, I have been in deep contemplation, seeking to learn more of you and your precarious situation. The grave news that I bear requires a sacrifice of me. So I freely give it.

  "You must remember yourself. I have given you the aids. I have sown the kernel of knowledge. Now, you must roll it in the snow of your memory and build it up like a snowball. Of your dreams and new found abilities, I can speak no more. Except that you must seek he who seethes with hatred for you. Many enemies you have made in your journeys, but this man, you have never met. Although, he is the one who hates the deepest."

  "What do you mean? I am going to make an enemy? Or I have already made the enemy, and now must figure out who he is? You speak riddles, elder."

  "This I know, and you have not the time to solve them. This one of whom I have visions is like a shadow in a window. With eyes that glow."

  "Or a mirror?" Jaxius asked, certain he knew the answer to this question, at least.

  "It could be a mirror. Yes, in fact, that explains further. The mirror that you shattered in the witch's sanctum. That one is the enemy. He leads a great force against you. I cannot tell if the scene is from your dreams, your past, or your present. No matter from whence, it is troubling indeed. All I can see are dark secret meetings and mysterious hooded figures. You must seek out this man and his following. He will bring grave destruction to all who stand in his way. I have felt his hatred, and it must be stopped." The ancient shaman shuddered, the memory of that seething hatred still haunting him.

  "I will leave first thing in the morning. Which direction should I take?"

  "No, no. take this. It is one last parting gift that I may give you." The old man handed Jaxius a rolled up sheet of parchment. Just the act of passing a sheet of paper across drained the mystic of nearly the rest of his energy. "Go now, and remember. Everything."

  Those last words rang loud in Jaxius' mind. As he grasped the scroll, the old man's hand melted away like sand in the air. The northern shaman slowly disintegrated into a large pile of dust. Jaxius was both outraged and disgusted by what he saw.

  Even as his head melted away, the old man tried to get through to Jaxius, "You must remember. And find him. Quickly. He knows y...."

  And then Jaxius was alone in the frigid, empty tent, the fire dying rapidly.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Screams erupted through the night. The small town of Eluil had never in its long history endured such chaos and destruction. Solid wooden doors gave way to the supernatural strength of the attackers. The demons, although flying around creating chaos and confusion, worked in tandem to each other. Where one would bash in a door, another would swoop around to the nearest window and wait for the frightened family to try to flee. The foul beasts snatched up any fugitives and flew straight up into the air several hundred feet, loosing their cargo to flail and scream to the ground. Occasionally if someone's terror truly delighted the host of demons, they would toy with that one by dropping them and then catching them once more in mid-flight.

  The flames that had started on the southern end of town now engulfed the entirety of the town. Special attention was paid by the attackers to the livestock and stored harvest. The demons made sure that if they did not kill the farmers outright, then they would die of starvation over the winter.

  "Hear me!" the great demon leader announced. "We stop only to feed. Eat what you will and gather again. We fly as soon as possible."

  "Why do you cringe before this mortal? Surely, you are more powerful," Pactor, a small, jittery orange demon with a frog face, asked, creeping annoyingly under Gredgeshnosch's feet.

  "This mortal, as you call him, is no mortal at all. I have seen into his soul. I know the truth of his magics. He is no more mortal than you or I."

  "Not a mortal? Then why does he smell like a mortal? Why does he summon us to do his work for him?" Pactor's long slimy tongue shot out and wrapped around an unsuspecting runaway's throat. The sickening crunch that followed brought a broad smile to Gredgeshnosch's vile face. The smile widened exposing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth as Pactor sucked the man whole into his elongated mouth. The man was driven down the smallish demon's throat, slowly forming an obvious bulge in Pactor's stomach.

  "He is different. And you would do well not to invoke the wrath of one so learned and practiced in the art of stripping you from that which makes you who you are. Follow me, and you will live. Disobey, and I will see to it personally that you make it into our summoner's hands. Finish your meal, we fly now!" With that last threat, Gredgeshnosch flew off into the night howling back for his horde to follow him.

  "What in all the universe could shake the ferocity from Gredgeshnosch?" Pactor asked himself, truly hoping to never learn what could do that. He lifted up from the ground to take his place in the procession, pausing to spit out the bones of his most recent meal.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Morning came too much soon for Jaxius. The bright rays of the sun intensified by the sheet of white spread out on the Nordrasian plain bored into the half-elf. Jaxius squinted as he stared across that plain wondering how far the snow stretched forth.

  "What burdens yer mind, Returned One?" Grundar asked, staring out to the brilliant morning beside Jaxius.

  "Returned One? The old mystic called me that. What does it mean?"

  "I don' rightly know. I'd like t' be knowin' how an' why 'e shoved off las' night. An' I take it, he won't be comin' back."

  "No. I don't believe he will," Jaxius replied understanding the questions that might be aroused in the clansmen this morning. "It seems death follows me wherever I go."

  "Don' let yer head be troubled o'er this. Old Kaird knowed when 'is time would be comin'. I be thinkin' he waited fer ye t' come t' 'im. He fought 'long side me grandpappy. He jes' refused t' give 'imself up till 'e was done wit' whate'er needed doin'."

  This thought both relaxed and worried Jaxius. The thought that Kaird – so that was the old mystic's name – had lived so long and likely had some power over when he would go was comforting. But the fact that Jaxius still did not truly know what was going on, that was so catastrophically important that a mystic had to extend his life by an extra fifty years, was a bit more than troubling to Jaxius. The idea that he was somehow at the center of a world-changing event made the thought sting a little more.

  "I suppose you are right."

  "S'pose? I know I'm bein' right." Grundar grumbled. "Wha' I be needin' t' know from ye is where ye be goin' now?"

  Jaxius looked up, still not knowing the answer to that question, himself. He thumbed the rolled parchment in his hand and wondered what its writing might indicate. He had been too lost in thought about the old man and the mysteries presented to him in the past days to worry overmuch about the mysterious missive.

  Grundar continued, thinking that he had offended Jaxius, "Know tha' ye may come and go as ye see fit. I just be wonderin' if ye know 'ow t' fix me son or know where t' be lookin' fer answers."

  Jaxius' heart sank at the thought of the predicament that Tolian and Bergar were in. He berated himself for worrying about his own problems and not considering those of his
friends.

  "I will find an answer for you, even if I have to travel the world to find it. This might be the first step." Jaxius held up the parchment. "Kaird gave me this right before he left."

  "Well, read it, boy." Grundar urged.

  At the irresistible command of the leader of Clan Dernegart, Jaxius unrolled the scroll and scanned the page. He did not know many of the words as they had been penned in a language completely unknown to him, but the old mystic had penned an explanation at the top.

  "It is a spell scroll. Reading the magical incantation will enact a spell that gives the reader knowledge of that which he seeks."

  "Can ye read it?"

  Jaxius frowned. "No. Most of it is in a language that I cannot understand."

  Secretly, Jaxius was glad for that fact. Not fully understanding how the spell worked, he wondered if it should be used for himself or for his friends' sake. The warrior decided that it would be better, for everyone, to use the magic of the scroll to help Bergar leave Tolian's body. But he was not so sure that he could fully resist the temptation to delve into his own missing life, if he could, indeed, read the spell.

  "We should take it to Tolian, he knows the language of most every nation in the world, and some from beyond."

  "Well, where's me boy this mornin' anyway?"

  Grundar set off toward Tolian's tent, grumbling the whole way about lazy-headed boys who thought nothing about spending a day in bed while the men do all the work.

  Jaxius looked down at the parchment and let his mind wander to the possibilities that the spell might hold for him. He quickly shook away the selfish thoughts and shoved the paper into the pouch at his belt.

  A few minutes later, Jaxius gathered with Tolian and Grundar in Grundar's personal tent. The sat covered in furs and blankets as the temperature had steadily plummeted through the morning. The cold had followed the blizzard, a sure indication that it was midwinter in the north, according to the grizzled clan leader.

  "So, what are ye thinkin' o' it?"

  "Well," Bergar started. "I am not sure. But Tolian says he recognizes the words, but it is a di-a-lect that he has never heard spoken."

  "Hmm. Do you think it could be that the spell is written in an ancient tongue? One that might have been tied to the mysticism that Kaird practiced?" Jaxius said.

  Almost certainly, Tolian said to his body companion.

  "Tolian says, 'Almost certainly.'" Bergar repeated.

  "Can ye be figurin' it out if ye have time?" Grundar asked.

  Yes, but I don't think that we really have to know what it means. Just what it says.

  "He says yes, but he doesn't think that we have to know what it means. We just have to know what it says."

  "Wha'? Speak straight t' me boy. None o' tha' mumbo-jumbo double talk yer always tryin' t' get' away wit'."

  Yeah, what?! I don't know what you mean by that, either, Bergar thought.

  Tolian mentally sighed. Most spell scrolls don't need to be translated. You simply need to repeat the words precisely as they are written. If you fail to pronounce the words, as written, the spell will not work. It is also possible to completely distort the intent the spell. Or worst of the worst, it could quite literally blow up in your face.

  Bergar swallowed hard. "What he means is that we only need to know how to say the words, not what they mean to make the spell work."

  "Well, why didn't ye say tha' t' begin wit'?" Grundar grumbled.

  Jaxius finally cut in, "I think we should use the spell to find out what we can about how to separate the two of you."

  The scroll may only work for Jaxius. After all, the mystic gave it to him and not us, noted Tolian.

  "The bard says the spell may only work for you, Jaxius, not us. Kaird did leave it with you, after all," Bergar told his friend.

  "If there is a way to use this for you two, then we should," Jaxius argued. "My fate will lead me to my answers in time."

  "I be agreein' with th' half-elf."

  Jaxius couldn't help but to note the rarely used term for his half heritage. Was it jealousy that he felt, that he was so easily labeled? Or was he just frustrated from the changes that had undertaken him?

  He has a point. This may be our only chance to find out how to reverse this. Tolian thought, doubt creeping up in his mind.

  Yes, but what about what Kaird intended? Bergar asked. He was anxious to leave Tolian's body, but shuddered at the idea that they'd need to use more magic.

  We cannot know what the old man intended.

  I know, I just feel weird using what was given to another to help me out, Bergar admitted.

  I don't think we have much choice. When Jaxius has his mind set to something, he is rather difficult to persuade.

  "Tolian says we go with using the scroll for us. He says it's hard to argue with this one." Bergar said thumbing toward Jaxius.

  "Then, it's settled. Ye and the bard'll work t' sound out th' words and cast th' spell." Grundar was quick to step in with guidance, once a reasonable plan had been put forth.

  The next several hours were spent with Tolian sounding words out to Bergar, who, if the complaints of Tolian were to be believed, followed directions like a four-year-old child. Finally, after much shouting at himself and ridiculous half conversations, Bergar announced that he could do it.

  The sun was already setting when the three men gathered again, poised to have the spell cast. Bergar slowly but confidently repeated the spell while holding the scroll just as he had practiced. When he finished, they all sat silently waiting for some monumental explosion or sign from the gods that the spell had worked.

  "Well," Grundar said to Bergar. "Do ye know anythin'?"

  "No, nothing yet," Bergar answered. "Wait, I think something is ... yes ... something's coming to me. Give me just a...." At that, Bergar stiffened. Every muscle of Tolian's body tightened reflexively. Arms straightened, knees locked, eyes rolled sightlessly, Tolian's body jerked and quivered with the powerful seizure. Not even slamming into the freeze-hardened ground was enough to shake him from the fit.

  The others dashed over and scooped him up, making sure that he was comfortable and unhurt.

  Bergar relaxed nearly as quickly as he'd tensed. His blue eyes blinked several times, and he shook his face side to side as if awakening suddenly from a monstrous nightmare.

  "Wow, now that was some spell," he exclaimed.

  "Me boy! Are ye hurt?" Grundar gruffly asked.

  "Umm, no, I believe I am perfectly fine, now. And I, sorry to say, am not your boy. I am Tolian, the bard and … the sole and rightful owner of this beautiful body by the way," Tolian said, somewhat indignantly.

  "Oh. Well, where's me durned boy? Is 'e in there?" Grundar moved closer, peering into Tolian's eye as if he could find his beloved son behind Tolian's blues.

  Tolian jerked his head away from the ignorant probing of the barbarian. "He truly isn't in here, Grundar. As far as I can tell, anyway. I mean, when he's here, he does tend to whine and mope when he isn't in charge of my everything."

  "Watch yer lip, boy, or ye'll be learnin' a new job," Grundar growled. "Now, wha' d' we do? Th' spell didn't work, and we be missin' me boy again."

  "We find someone who can read the spell and knows exactly what it does," Jaxius broke his contemplative silence. "We just won't be able to find them here on the frontier."

  Grundar agreed. "I be knowin' no one what can speak any ancient tongues. Kaird was th' last o' th' old ways."

  Jaxius looked around the room and at Tolian in particular and pursed his lips, not wanting to accept the inevitable conclusion. "We head south, keep to the border of Hawklos and Feldrovia, and then into Paradisia."

  "Paradisia? Have you gone completely raving mad? You remember getting out of Paradisia last time? There will be guards at every road looking for you. And me, by mere association."

  "Surely, the arena master will have forgotten by now," Jaxius said.

  "Whoa, I though' ye told tha' little fae girl tha' the arena ma
ster got eat by some such toad dragon," Grundar said, looking incredulously from Tolian to Jaxius.

  "Oh, right. That I did. I regaled her with a story of a froggy-faced dragon." Tolian said shaking his head and his hands, rising to pace as he spoke. "You remember, Jaxius, the scary little faerie girl who would have torn my face from my head, if I didn't do exactly as she said? I remember her. Although, I had almost forgotten. The thought was right there, leaving on its merry way. And now, you, YOU brought it back. Thank you." By the time he finished this tirade, his hands were a blur of frantic gestures, none of which made any sense to the barbarian.

  "It's settled," Jaxius interrupted. "We go to Paradisia. There we can find someone who will have a better idea about this scroll."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The next morning greeted the Dernegart camp with no more hospitality than it had for the last few weeks. The winter storm had long been over, but her effects sat blindingly on the ground. As the sun finally peaked over the eastern mountains, the light bounced in from all directions. Jaxius squinted, stepping out of the large public tent.

  "Are you ready?" he called back to Tolian.

  "I suppose, if I absolutely just have to be," Tolian said.

  Sensing the reluctance in Tolian's voice, Jaxius said, "Perhaps we will get lucky and find a nice town in Feldrovia where we can get some horses."

  Tolian's head jerked up and he raised a confused eyebrow. "You are talking about Feldrovia? And you say 'nice town'? You are joking right?"

  It was Jaxius' turn to be confused. "No, why?"

  "Feldrovia's haunted. Great wicked evil lives at th' heart o' Feldrovia. Been tha' way fer o'er a hunerd year." Grundar answered for Tolian who nodded in agreement.

  "All of Feldrovia?" Jaxius scoffed.

  "I just assumed you knew. Our illustrious clan leader here is correct. Over a hundred years ago, a great plague swept through Feldrovia, and now all of her population belongs to the Undead Witch." Tolian explained.

  "Great. So, not only do we have the curse on Bergar from the Undead Witch to deal with, but now we are hiking right past her greatest armies."