by Rex Hazelton
Using the candles' power in Ar Warl could lead to being discovered. The web of magic Ab'Don had painstakingly woven into his realm would sense the conjuring needed to bring the Candle Makers' wares to life. It wouldn’t take long for the Hag to figure out it wasn’t one of their own that had done the conjuring. But sooner or later risks had to be taken. Why not in a place that was as far away from Ab'Don's seat of power located in the Hall of Voyd as Mishal Parm was? Here, if detected, the brothers would have time to escape those that would be sent to find out what they were doing, and why they were doing it.
First to get sleep, the twins were now awake and on watch as midnight arrived. The heart of the night was a time both brothers loved for the quiet it brought with it: the hush that surrounds esoteric aspirations; a salient silence that promised strange and wonderful things would be had if the darkness was delved into. And as the darkness deepened- for the moon, now more than a quarter of the way past full, had slipped behind a passing cloud- a voice was heard coming from the ruins, a pitiful voice that begged for help.
"Is anyone there?' It said. "Am I alone?" It asked. "For I am in need." It added.
The sound of shuffling feet that accompanied the plaintiff cries went well together, since both things spoke of excessive age and weakness that comes to all men with the passing of time.
"I say," the voice softly rasped, "is anyone there to help a tired old man?"
And as the voice drew near to the dying campfire, a shadow came with it, one that looked like it belonged to a person who was stooped over by the weight of all the winters that had been heaped upon their frail shoulders.
"Stop old man! If that's what you are." Travyn, who rose to his feet with both his sword and long knife in hand, spoke with a firmness that made it clear he meant business. "We've already met a stranger we didn't much like. We're not in a hurry to meet another." Because the heavy accent The Watcher had was absent, he knew it wasn't the blood-lusting wizard. Still, he was in no mood to have to deal with another unexpected night-visitor.
Hearing the reply, the shadow straightened up when he saw who answered him. The surprise of seeing the rings of amber light shining in Travyn's eyes stopped the stranger in his tracks. A moment later, the figure resumed its stooped posture and continued its slow march to the ember-laden campfire. Neither Travyn's words nor his appearance could keep the stranger away. "You've met someone else in this place? Oh my, please let me come closer, for you've made me fear for my safety."
"I said, stop old man," Travyn pointed his sword at the stranger whose facial features were shrouded in darkness. "If you don't, I'll stop you myself."
"Leave the old one alone." Ay'Roan, who was awakened by the conversation, came to stand by his brother. Pushing Travyn's threatening blade down, he beckoned the stranger to come closer. "Let's get a look at you."
"Be careful," Kaylan had his hand on a candle he kept hidden inside his cloak, "something's wrong here."
"You might be right," the brothers were careful not to use each other's names as they spoke, "but we need to know what you're right about," Ay'Roan said as he waved the stooped figure closer, smiling a smile that didn't touch his eyes as he did. "Besides, there's four of us and one of him."
"If you recall," J'Aryl came to stand by Kaylan with his hand holding his own candle, "one was almost too much to handle the last time we met a stranger."
Stepping within the reach of the glowing embers’ light, the stooped figure straightened out once again, but this time the stranger maintained his posture. The face inside the wide cowl covering his head was that of a middle-aged man. Inscrutable, it looked at the brothers for a long time before a mirthless smile appeared. "Don't be alarmed. I pose no threat."
"Then why all of the theatrics?" Travyn, not happy with the turn of events, clenched his jaw muscles as he spoke.
"I didn't want you to take me for a highwayman and kill me before we could talk." Looking about the camp with eyes as gray as the cloak he wore, the stranger added, "How was I to know whether one of you was a bowman or not?"
"We could be highwaymen," J'Aryl countered. "What about that?"
"I think not," the stranger reached into his cloak as he spoke and pulled out four candles as gray as his eyes were as he spoke."But to show you that I wish you no harm, here... take these." With that said he extended his hand and held out the candles. A moment later, the four lifted up into the air and floated over to the brothers.
Without saying a word, Kaylan aimed the palm of his hand at the candles and pushed them to the ground without touching them. "Do you carry any other weapons, Hag?"
"The candles aren't weapons." The stranger's jaws clenched as he added, "And I'm no longer a Hag."
Hearing the exchange, Ay'Roan and J'Aryl were quick to take hold of the man's arms and hold him while Travyn searched his robes with the hand that had quickly sheathed his sword. The long knife was still at the ready in his other hand. Finding neither blade nor talisman, Travyn put his long knife away and went to get a length of rope.
In time, the stranger was forced to sit in the corner where two broken down walls met. His hands were tied behind his back to make certain he couldn't use them to control the gray candles that lay on the ground where Kaylan had forced them to stop. Though thoughts could be used to activate a candle that had been made with magic, the wielder's hands played an integral part in manipulating its power. Thus the Hag's ability to use the Dark Arts his order loved to employ, for that is who the Oakenfels believed him to be, was curtailed enough to give them the upper hand if foul play was afoot.
And it would keep him from defending himself if the brothers had to exert pressure to get him to tell the truth about who he was and what he was doing in Mishal Parm. Then, when they were done interrogating him, he wouldn't be able to stop the Oakenfels from extinguishing the threat his presence posed to their plans. At least that's what Travyn had in mind as he fingered his long knife's handle. In his thinking, there was no other option, and he would have no qualms about doing the deed when it came time to be done.
"What did you think you were doing, Hag, by sauntering in here like you did?" Ay'Roan's mirthless smile reappeared for just a moment. "Did you think your candle would intimidate us? That we would be afraid to hurt a Hag? If you did, you've overplayed your hand." Excited to have a dark wizard in hand, one who belonged to the foul order that had inflicted harm on his mother on more than one occasion, Ay'Roan added, "Let me be clear… we have no love for your kind."
"As I told you," with J'Aryl having pulled his hood back, so the brothers could get a good look at someone they would enjoy hurting, the stranger's facial features were outlined by the glow coming off of the rejuvenated campfire, features that didn't look like they belonged to one who would serve Ab'Don, "I'm no longer a Hag."
The man had large watery eyes that gave his former pleas for help some credence. The short, black, curly hair growing on his head, interspersed with ample portions of white, and the beard covering his face, mostly white with a bolt of black striping the chin, gave him a paternal almosy grandfatherly appearance. Over weight in a way that those with privilege often were, he had a pleasant enough air about him, the kind you hoped a neighbor would possess. His hands were large. His feet were too. Add this to his thick, sloping shoulders and one could guess he was strong, or he should be if he dedicated himself to doing anything physical. On the other hand, if his love for books and the study of magic was strong enough to keep him cloistered away, he could be a proverbial push over, at least physically. As for the question of courage, he had already proven his spine was made of iron.
Even if he wasn't alone and other Hag were nearby, to act as the point of the spear that was being thrust at the four men, who trespassed in a place where Ab'Don forbid people to go, wasn’t something a coward would do. Even the nominally brave would balk at agreeing to such a dangerous maneuver.
"But you admit that you were once
a Hag?" Kaylan didn't look happy about having a prison
er, especially one as dangerous as the man who sat with his back against the wall surely was. For he was certain the stranger's arrival bode ill tidings.
Watching the man who was wearing the broad-brimmed hat impatiently thumbing the handle of his long knife, the stranger realized he had little time to gain enough of the company's trust to keep them from taking his life. He needed to work quickly, he was certain of that. The rings of amber light, piercing through the shadow huddled up against the hat's flat-brim, made this all too apparent.
That one is dangerous, he thought. Then glancing at the others- at the big man with the disconcerting smile, at the one who had forced his candles to the ground with the palm of his hand, and at the wavy-haired young man whose eyes looked cold as ice- he ammended his observation: They all look dangerous. But the man in the hat... he's different. I'll need to keep a closer watch on him.
The thing that was disquieting to the stranger wasn't so much that Travyn was different, it was more that he was different from what he had expected him to be. The truth was, the man with the unusual eyes was all too familiar. Give him a black candle, he thought, and he could pass for a Hag.
The look in Travyn's eyes, the anger that was stored there and the calculating aspect they held, was a common trait among the dark wizards. The only thing that was missing was the dose of cruelty that accompanied the Hag's inherent anger. The man didn't having the feeling of a person who would inflict pain just for the joy of hurting someone, but he did have the feeling of someone who would be quick to kill if need or reason dictated he do so.
And the man with hair the color of sweet honey and eyes that were as dark as tree bark, what was it about him? How could he so easily control candles created in twilight? Though the candles weren't birthed out of the Womb of Darkness the Hag were accustomed to using in their magical machinations, they were nevertheless tainted with the impurity that was part and parcel of Ar Warl. And this man was able to take charge of the candles like they were household pets. How could this happen? What was there in his heart that gave him the ability to do this? He hadn't expected to find shadows lurking inside these men. For shadow was the only thing the candles would obey.
Then there was the big man.
The light the stranger felt residing in him wouldn't tolerate shadow let alone darkness. But this made him no less dangerous. As all Hag knew, day could be as deadly as night. And the wavy-haired fellow didn't feel much different than the larger one. Both men held themselves in a way that warriors were wont to do- alert and ready for action. Though well-muscled, they looked lean and fast. And none of them appeared to be afraid. Not these two or the others.
"Yes I was once a Hag," the stranger replied in measured tones that spoke of the careful thought he was giving his words. "But I am no longer. My allegiance to the order has shifted to other interests, though I must admit it was never anchored to the Hag community."
"Why so?" In spite of his misgivings about the stranger, Kaylan was always interested in solving a mystery.
Travyn, who was not so easily baited, spoke with sarcasm that made this apparent. "I can see where this is going," he said through clenched teeth. "You're going to cite your candle's color to give proof to your tale, aren't you? Everyone knows that a Hag candle is black and your's is gray. So, you can't be a dark wizard, right? Well that won't save you. The Hag aren't the only ones we dislike, and those we don't like won't fare well once we get our hands on them."
The dangerous looking young man's point was well taken as the stranger quickly replied. "Yes, my candle is gray and the ones you have are white. Am I supposed to say, that proves you're Candle Makers, when I know you're not."
The stranger's words were like a blast of frigid air was blowing in from the Ice Desert that bordered northern Ar Warl. All was frozen in the moment it came. No one moved or spoke. The campfire's flames suspended their lively gyrations. The stranger's eyes, that slowly surveyed the four young men he had alarmed with his words, were the only things unaffected by the revelation that he knew more than the brothers wanted him to know.
Then the moment of trepidation passed and Kaylan spoke. "If you stop now, your fate is sealed. You must know that." Kaylan's lips pursed, his eyes narrowed, as he looked at his brothers.
While Ay'Roan's smile left his face, Travyn's appeared.
"So go ahead," Kaylan prodded the stranger, "show us your cards. But before you do, know that your hand better be a good one or this will be the last game you'll ever play."
"If you give me adequate time to explain all I know," the stranger's watery eyes glistened in the firelight as he spoke, "you'll find that there's another game you'll want to play with me."
"And what game would that be," Travyn spate out his words.
"A game whose prize is the life of your father, Jeaf Oakenfel."
"Ashes," Ay'Roan exclaimed. "What's going on here? How does he know this?"
"Shut up!" J'Aryl growled out his words. "The man's just fishing."
"I assure you," the stranger carefully studied J'Aryl as he spoke, "if I am fishing, I've got a big one on the line." After taking a moment to enjoy all the metaphors that were being bandied about, the one about playing cards and now fishing, the stranger smiled wryly as he added, "But I'm not fishing as you suppose. I know exactly what I'm saying and more than you suspect. Still I'll need time to fully explain my presence since my appearing here is not by chance."
"First, are you alone?" The long thin braids that fell down in front of Ay'Roan's ears swung forward as he leaned in for an answer.
Looking at the large man who was asking an essential lead question, the stranger replied, "As I said, when I feigned to be older than I really am, I'm alone and need help. Search as you may, no one else is around, at least no one who is with me."
"If you lie on this point," Ay'Roan rolled one of his braids between his thumb and forefinger as the mirthless smile returned to his face, "the hope of us believing anything else you have to say will be forfeited, as well as your life."
"I have not lied on this point, as you put it, for it is important for me to get your trust, since I really do need your help."
"Help?" Kaylan tilted his head like he was a dog listening to human speech. "Why would you need our help?"
"I need your help to save my daughter." The stranger's pained expression added weight to his words.
"Why us?"
"Because you're the only ones I know who would be foolish enough to break into the Hall of Voyd."
"The Hall of Voyd?" Travyn squinted in disbelief as he spoke. "Isn't that where Ab'Don's throne sits?"
"If you were from Ar Warl, you wouldn't have to ask that question. For those born here, that dark place stands alongside our earliest recollections. It is the threat mothers use to keep their children in line. If you don't obey, they'd say, men will come and take you away to the Hall of Voyd.
"You see, every Ar Warler lives in the shadow cast by that horrible place, and no one who has lived in its shadow would need to ask what you just did."
"If we're not Ar Warlers," Kaylan eyed the stranger suspiciously as he asked his needless question, for he had correctly guessed what the answer would be, "then who are we?"
"Do you promise to restrain yourself from killing me off hand if I answer you truthfully?"
"Don't think you're in a position to barter with us." Travyn hated that the stranger was trying to pull their chains, so to speak. If he had his way, he'd dispense of the man on principle alone. They weren't some farm boys a huckster could trick.
"Oh but I am," the stranger calmly replied, though his gray eyes took Travyn in with a measure of concern. "And if you let me live long enough, you'll realize that."
"Answer the question," J'Aryl ran his hand through his curly, dark hair in frustration as he spoke. "You may not get out of here alive, but we won't kill you until we hear all you have to say." Looking to each of his brothers with an expression that said he meant what he was about to say, J'Aryl added, "That I promise you."
The stranger nodded his head satisfied that the first battle had been won- he would be heard. But as in most wars, the first battle is rarely the last. And let there be no doubt, a war was in full swing, one that was being waged to gain the four men's trust; a war the stranger felt he had no choice but to fight.
With J'Aryl's promise being given, Travyn dropped his thumb off his long knife. Still, he wouldn't push the brim of his hat up as was his habit when entering into casual conversation. His guard would remain in place for now, and later, once the foolishness J'Aryl had forced them into had ended, he'd do what inevitably had to be done. Go ahead and speak, Old Man, Travyn thought. It'll be the last time you do.
Looking up at the night sky, the stranger adjusted the way he was sitting as he gathered his thoughts. Then he took a deep breath of cool mountain air and began. "Indeed, I once was a Hag. But before that I was a boy named Horbyn, who lived in the village of Beaver Creek that sits near the headwaters of the Little Ral River. My father's name was Tannyss. He died in the flood that followed the Winter of Endless Snow. My mother's name was Monah who escaped the flood when my father lifted her and me onto the bough of a sturdy oak tree a moment before a wall of water swept him away.
"Following that tragic event, I would have to say my childhood was an uneventful one. With my mother and I not having much to fall back on, she worked hard as a seamstress for hire to keep food on our table. My mother never remarried. But I don't think that mattered much to her because we had each other. You see, she loved me as few mothers loved their sons." Laughing over the delightful memories his story stirred up, the stranger added, "And I loved her more than life itself and still do."
The laughter left as quickly as it came. A sullen look too its place. "After sharing many summers of warm companionship together, my mother fell ill and my childhood came to an abrupt end. That's when I began devoting myself to the pursuit of magic and set aside the games I used to enjoy playing with the village children: no more jaunts in the surrounding woods with my friends; no more swimming in the pool that Beaver Creek fed into; no more sharing secrets in the tree house we had built together."
