Vlad'War's Anvil

by Rex Hazelton

  Laughing, as the tension filling the story briefly abated, Horbyn confessed, "Really, the tree house was just a platform made out of charred planks we found after a nearby barn burned to the ground.

  "The point is, my mother was deathly ill and I had to find a way make her better. Because of this, childish games lost their appeal. Discovering magic that had power to heal was all that mattered. So, I began to visit the local Healer who used herbs, seeds, flowers, and such to rid people of their fevers and help them recover from injury. Still, in the midst of her somewhat limited apothecary knowledge, I found a trace of magic she used to enhance the powders and salves she felt competent enough to use. It was the recitation of an elvish blessing she had learned from a Neflin the people of the Great Ral Mountains called Mar’Gul. And by Fires of Darkness, it worked. More than that, I found that when I uttered the incantation, it worked better still. My mentor said that was because the Warl's Magic had chosen me to become a Healer too. But if this was true, the elvish blessing couldn't heal my mother, though it did alleviate her discomfort a little.

  "As my abilities increased in herb lore and in the minimal magic I could use, my village's Healer set about introducing me to the other Healers who lived in our region. Taking me under their wings, for the Healers were not a competitive lot, at least not those living in the hills I called home, I soon learned how to use other incantations. And it wasn't long before I had surpassed the best of them who boasted in the part they played in making my transcendence possible.

  "Young as I was, my reputation grew so much that it caught the attention of two people- Mar”Gul and a beautiful Hag named Florym. At the time, I had no idea of the impact that these two women would have on my life since Florym was responsible for herding me into the Hag fold, and Margul is responsible for me being here."

  "How so Horbyn?" Kaylan asked. Using his Powers of Intuition, he had determined that the man was telling the truth, or that the things he was saying were true enough to warrant consideration. Clearly, he had knowledge of Healing Magic and a heart to use it. And it was just as clear that he had once been a Hag whose order cared little about the Healing Arts except when it came to their own health.

  "I thought my encounter with Mar’Gul would interest you. Unless I miss my guess, you're no stranger to the elves, though you've never met the Neflin."

  Becoming weary of the cryptic utterances that implied Horbyn's knowledge of him and his brothers was vast without saying anything concrete, Kaylan tersely replied, "Enough of your obfuscating. It's time to speak plainly."

  Confident that the men had swallowed the bait he set before them, Horbyn complied to Kaylan's request by saying, "Not long after Florym and her Hag companions came to Beaver Creek to find out if my reputation in using magic was deserved or not, in spite of the fact that it was only Healing Magic, Mar’Gul met with me in secret. She did so because the Hag, who were still in my village at the time, would have tried to kill her for saying the things she said to me."

  "And what did she say?"

  "After returning from a meeting with Florym where she had given me an invitation to come and study at the School of the Hag, Mar’Gul was seated next to my sick mother's bed administering magic that came from a golden orb she held in her hand. Andara's Tear is what she called it, using the name of greatest Healing Wizard who ever lived in the Warl of Man to explain what it was.

  "Turning to look at me with a face so scarred it was a wonder her eyes were left untouched by the maiming, the old woman said that she had extended my mother's life, though she was unable to completely heal her with the magical, amber-colored light she had bathed my mother in.

  "Right then and there, I made my decision to accept Florym's offer. If Mar”Gul's power couldn't make my mother completely well, then maybe Hag Magic would.

  "That's why I chose to be numbered among the dark wizards; so, I could unlock the power that would enable me to cure my mother. It didn't matter that the Hag weren't true Healer's. It only mattered that they weren't afraid to do whatever it took to open the doors leading to the warl's secrets, regardless if the doors were white, black, or gray." Horbyn nodded at the candles Kaylan had forced down upon the ground.

  "But understand this, having decided to go to the School of the Hag and learn their ways didn't mean I ignored the things Margul told me that day. Nor did I betray her confidence, something my mother made me promise that I would never do. For she had been revived by the magic Andara's Tear dispensed and went on to live in relative health for three more summers before Ab'Don had her killed."

  "Ab'Don was responsible for killing your mother?" Travyn pushed up his hat's wide brim to make certain he had heard correctly. For the first time since meeting Horbyn, he wanted something other than a chance to take his life. Horbyn's admission that his mother, Monah if Travyn remembered correctly, had suffered at the same hands that had harmed his own mother effected the change.

  "Yes," Horbyn confessed with a pained expression. "He had her killed out of jealousy. You see, the Sorcerer wants the Hag to be utterly devoted to him and to no one or nothing else.

  "Seeing that I was unusually adept at working magic, Ab'Don deemed my pursuit of the Healing Arts as a waste of talent and time. Blaming my mother for this, he sent an assassin to take her life, thinking this would remove the impediment that kept me from jumping into the Dark Arts with both feet.

  "It didn't matter to him if I found out that he was responsible for her death. In fact, many of his best servants hate him with a hatred that increases their evil propensities and enlarges their ability to access dark magic. Since they can't touch Ab'Don because of the power he wields, they take out their frustration on others, which is precisely what he wants them to do. For the magic he draws his power from is increased in intensity by the atrocities done in his realm, no matter who's responsible for committing them or the reasons why they are done."

  "I'd have killed him," Travyn eyes narrowed as he spoke, "or died trying."

  "I don't doubt that you would have died trying," Horbyn said while ignoring the intended insult. "But I had others to consider, Florym for instance and our daughter, Shanym."

  "That doesn't make sense." Travyn had a hard time understanding why Horbyn was reticent to exact revenge. Hearing Horbyn say that he had had a child with Florym only sounded like an excuse fabricated to explain away his failure to act. "You said that Ab'Don wanted the Hag to be devoted to him alone, yet he allowed you and some Hag witch to give birth to a child? How is that?"

  "It's simple." Horbyn leaned forward to make his point; the campfire cast a reddish light on his countenance as he did. "Both Florym and I were Hag. As such, any child we bore automatically belonged to the Sorcerer. What was there to be jealous about?

  "That was the price he required Florym and me to pay for him allowing us to have our dalliance, as Lord Ab'Don put it. But it wasn't a dalliance. Florym and I loved each other and the daughter we bore together.

  "Unlike other Hag, who had to give their children up when they were still young so the Sorcerer could do with them as his dark whim dictated, we were allowed to keep Shanym until well past the point where she became a woman.

  "Sadly, we thought the time had passed when Ab'Don's desires would require us to give up our daughter. For the young were more to his liking. But we were wrong. And he took her last winter."

  Looking at Travyn with eyes filling up with tears, Horbyn added, "To my eternal regret, Florym was too much like you, young man. And now she is dead after trying to keep Shanym from being taken by the dreadful master she had so faithfully served, the insidious Sorcerer who fed my mate enough magic to keep her loyalties tied to him, but not enough to enable Florym to put up a good fight."

  "Where'd he take your daughtwe?" Ay'Roan didn't liked what he heard. No man should have such power. Not even a king. His father had taught him that a leader's responsibilities should outweigh their privileges, and their first responsibility was to make certain that the people who served them were properly
cared for.

  "Where else would the Sorcerer take my daughter, but to the Hall of Voyd of course."

  "That's why you want us to go with you there," J'Aryl stated the obvious, "to free your daughter."

  "That's where my story about The Mar’Gul comes in." Horbyn smiled at J'Aryl like an approving father acknowledging a son he is pleased with. "The day the old woman came and spoke to me back in Beaver Creek, she told me about your father and the hammer he carries and about your mother who Mar’Gul said would give birth to four boys that people would one day call Sons of the Storm.

  "The old woman said that you and your father would need me when you came to Ar Warl to gather the Fane J'Shrym and lead them into battle against the Sorcerer. So you see, I know you are the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer's children. I also know that you are the Four Winds that are destined to blow on Sky Master's heights to prepare the way for the coming Storm. The Mar’Gul told me this and more.

  "The old woman told me that I had no choice but to go to the School of the Hag because the dark wizards would kill me if I didn’t. Then she admonished me to do everything in my power to keep my soul from becoming entirely lost, adding, if I succeeded in doing this, I would play an indispensible role in bringing Ab'Don's horrible reign to an end.

  "Then to make certain I understood the importance of what she would say next, The Margul withdrew Andara's Tear again. After blowing across its surface, the old woman sent the same amber light that washed across my mother's face over mine. You will need this to withstand the evil that lives in the place where you are going, she said. And if you escape being assimilated into the darkness Ab'Don dwells in, remember what I have told you this day. For when the Hammer of Power appears in a place few expect him to, look to the mountain and wait for the winds. And when you meet them, tell them all they need to know.

  "But alas, as you can see by the color of the candle that I carry, I have been compromised by my exposure to the Hag: I have been forced to do things no Healer should ever do; I have made grievous mistakes; I have acted cowardly; I've capitulated to pressures that you can't possibly imagine in the sheltered lives you've lived in Nyeg Warl. But through it all, I never lost my desire to be a Healer. The memory of my mother's suffering saw to that. And maybe that memory, along with Mar”Gul's Magic, has saved enough of my soul to make me useful to you."

  Looking at each of the brothers in turn, Horbyn's watery eyes reflected the fire's dancing flames as he added, "I have promised myself to do for others the very thing I was prevented from doing for my mother because an assassin's blade took her life: to give help. Don’t fear me. Though my candles were once black, they are now gray. Because of that, there's still a chance that I can fulfill the destiny Mar’Gul said I had so long ago.

  "That's why I'm here, to assist you and to make amends for my wrong doings. But sadly, my candles are gray and not white like yours. So too, the service I will render is not from a pure motive, for I will not tell you where your father is being held prisoner without demanding a boon from you first."

  "You're saying that you know where our father is?" Kaylan said with a considerable amount of suspicion in spite of the elaborate tale he had heard.

  "Of course." Horbyn gazed warlily at his audience as he confessed, "I was one of the Hag who captured him.

  "Here amidst the ruins of Mishal Parm, I helped Ab'Don's foul brood apprehend Jeaf Oakenfel, the Hammer Bearer, and your father. And why was he here? For the same reason you are, to get in touch with the magic that was used to give birth to Vlad'War's Child.

  "Jeaf Oakenfel tried to do this so he could use the magic to find the Hammer of Power that had abandoned him. You four, on the other hand, are here to find magic that will assist you in finding the father you have lost. And I am here to fulfill my calling as a Healer, since no place needs more healing than Ar Warl. But first, you must agree to help me free my daughter. That is the boon I ask from you."

  Silence ensued. Thought accompanied silence. Four pairs of eyes looked past the campfire to the man that sat on the other side of the dancing flames, the man with his hands tied behind his back; the one who shifted his weight to adjust his seated position so he could get a better look at those who were busy digesting his words.

  And while the tacit moment continued, the moon rose above Sky Master's dark heights. A slice of it was obscurred in the shadow that would continue to grow as each night passed until the lunar light is extinguished completely; a shadow that looked like a huge thumb was slowly pushing its way across the moon’s face until it was removed from sight.

  Looking up at the white rider, who had begun its predictable trek across the night sky, Kaylan wondered if Horbyn's tale was a reflection the moon's fullness that was decreased by the sliver of darkness that lay upon it. Did his words represent three-fourths of the truth? Or a half of what really was? Or less? Could it possibly be true that he had a part to play in the ongoing drama the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer were forced to be a part of? Was he here to help as the Mar’Gul foretold? Had he even met the old woman? Or did he throw her name around to gain the brother's confidence, knowing that the Mar”Gul had accompanied their father in his quest to find Andara's Tears in Cara Lorn's wraith-ridden environs.

  It wouldn't have been difficult for Ab'Don and his followers to guess about her involvement, not if they traced the origins of the Battle of the Temple of the Oak Tree to the Warl of the Dead and on to Cara Lorn where Jeaf had gained entrance to the place where the deceased were found. Then all they’d have to do was find the wraith-wizard, Drak, who ruled over the haunted city and ask him to complete the story that included the part where Ma’Gul and the Hammer Bearer appeared in the ruined city at the exact same time, a highly unlikely coincidence.

  The brothers had to find out if Horbyn was telling the truth. They couldn't dispose of him until this was determined. Did he reallly know where their father was being held prisoner? That information alone was worth keeping him alive. But what about the boon he was asking for? Would they be foolish enough to follow the enigmatic wizard to the Hall of Voyd? Wouldn't it be easy enough to make a promise they never intended to keep? Not all lying was wrong? Was it? All the brothers had to do was hide their full intentions like the thumb-shaped shadow that hid the moon. Wasn't that what Horbyn was doing?

  Indeed the gray wizard wasn't telling the whole truth, for he had no daughter, though he once loved Floyrm. And though he wanted to be a Healer, he primarily did so to find a way to restore his mother's body that lay in a cave up in the Ice Desert where he had placed it to stave off further decay. But what good would it be if he found a way to heal his mother's body when he couldn't call her spirit by from the Warl of the Dead?

  That's why he wanted the Oakenfel's to go with him to the Hall of Voyd, to find Crooked Finger- the slender, iron branch that Ab’Don had thrust into the Prophetess heart in the Temple of the Oak Tree- and then unleash the power that could summon Monah's spirit back to the Warl of the Living; a feat he believed the Prophetess son's could help him do since their mother had called departed spirits back from the Warl of the Dead on more than one occasion. Horbyn was convinced that the talisman the Hag had named Crooked Finger had a claim on not only the Prophetess life, but it had a claim on her power to raise the dead too.

  Horbyn invented the idea of having a daughter trapped in a perilous situation to gain empathy from the brothers. He doubted his mother's frozen corpse would do that. Horbyn knew he needed every advantage he could gather if he was to attain his goal. The emotional bond that would be forged by working together to free each other's loved one would help secure Horbyn's place with the brothers.

  Looking back up at the diminished moon, Kaylan said what he and his brothers were thinking. "We need proof. To do as you're asking without having proof would be folly. Surely you knew we would ask for this before you came into our camp. Out with it! What do you have that will convince us that you're telling the truth?"

  "Untie my hands and I'll show you." Horbyn
turned and leaned a shoulder against one of the walls that were behind him to expose his back and fettered hands.

  "What about his candles?" Travyn rose to his feet as he spoke, all the time keeping his eyes focused on the gray candles laying on the ground like a pack of sleeping dogs.

  "Lay one of your own candles on top of them," Horbyn was quick to reply. "The candles, coming into contact with each other while unlit, will cancel out their power."

  To reveal one of the white candles that Horbyn had insisted they had, would remove any doubt he still had about their identities. Wielding Candle Makers' magic while not being Candle Makers themselves would be an obvious admission of who they were: four men, Four Winds, here on Sky Master's broad shoulders, at the very place where Vlad'War made the Hammer of Power in an age now passed.

  Fully aware of what he was doing, knowing Horbyn was right about the candles cancelling out each others' power, Kaylan rose to his feet, withdrew one of the candles he had hidden in his cloak and went over to lay it across the wizard's gray candles. As he did this, J'Aryl rose and went over to cut Horbyn's hands loose. Travyn crossed his arms over his chest in apparent frustration. Ay'Roan slapped his thigh while saying something about the fat being thrown into the fire and stood to his feet.

  Bringing his hands in front of him so he could inspect the damage done to them by the ropes that had been tied too tightly about his wrists, Horbyn flexed his fingers to encourage more blood to flow into them to dispel the numbness that was there. Then he grunted as he put one hand on his knee and the other one on the wall behind him as he lifted himself to his feet.

  Loosening his muscles with the kind of motion those forced to maintain a cramped position were likely to do once they were free to do so, Horbyn cleared his voice before saying, "Don't be alarmed. I need to remove something from the hem of my sleeve."