by Rex Hazelton
At times, the Hag entered his mind through dreams they masterfully manipulated to get him to share the things he knew about the Hammer of Power. Allowing him to have seasons of clarity, the dark wizards would take on the guise of his mother and father to get him to talk about Vlad'War's Child.
When this happened, Jeaf found himself living with his parents in his childhood home. The time he spent there varied in length, though a lunar cycle’s duration was the norm. And as the days passed, each was filled with the same routines Jeaf had experienced when he was a young man: tending to the animals his family owned- a milk cow, three horses, two hogs and a hen house full of chickens- stoking a forge his father used to heat up the metal he work wonders with, and then taking his turn to hammer out more common things like horseshoes, nails, hinges, and the like.
In the late afternoons, he and his father would take time to work on their sword fighting skills. The use of wooden staffs was added to the training, as well as archery practice, and bare-handed grappling. Then in the evening, after a hearty meal had been consumed, Elamor, Aryl and Jeaf would sit before a lively fire and talk about magic while the Hammer of Power, that was often the topic of discussion, sat quietly on the floor beside them. While his father lit up the pipe he loved so much and blew smoke rings up into the home's rafters and the loft that was built their, the comfortable conversation would continue late into the night before sleep overcame them. The next day was filled with the same familiar pattern, and the day after it, and so on.
As was more likely than not, these idyllic seasons would end with strangers breaking into the home and taking the Oakenfel family captive. Then as Jeaf helplessly watched his parents being tortured and abused in the most heinous ways, he was interrogated about the Hammer of Power that sat beside the fireplace. Eventually the tresspassers would give Vlad'War's Child to Jeaf, demanding that he show them how to use its magic. Fools that they were, the men seemed to forget that young Oakenfel could use the hammer against them. And he did.
All the while Jeaf furiously destroyed those who had harmed his parents, one of the men stood apart from the ensuing mayhem, watching the proceedings as he furiously wrote down all he saw on sheets of parchment he held in his hands. And when the strangers were slain, the solitary figure would casually walk over to Jeaf, who was powerless to keep him from taking the hammer out of his hand, before he turned and killed Aryl and Elamor with the weapon Jeaf had used to save them.
Other dreams replayed the battles the Hammer Bearer had fought with Vlad'War's Child in hand. The one with Laviathon on the banks of the Eyrie River when Jeaf first found the hammer, the harrowing fight with Schmar in the Cave of forgetfulness, and the epic struggle with Koyer during the Battle of Decision were repeated over and over again. The Hag also spent a great deal of time exploring Torcanor's attempt to take the Hammer of Power as his own when Jeaf was a prisoner in Creydlnor, the homw of the Tsadal.
To make certain Jeaf couldn’t make sense of things, the Hag pulled information out of the Hammer Bearer's mind in a piece meal way to make certain he remained stuck in the web of confusion they weaved about him. To do this, they were careful not to give Jeaf memories in a chronological order, nor did they access any single recollection too often. A great deal of the time, the Hag replayed the autrocities they had forced Andara to witness when he was imprisoned in the haunted city of Cara Lorn, the foul compilation of horrific acts that forced the Healing Wizard's life out of him.
Propaganda promoting Ab'Don's claim to Vlad'War's Child and to the title of Hammer Bearer were mixed in to make the bitter gruel Jeaf was fed. Buried beneath this avalanche of filth and mis-information, Jeaf's identity was nearly obliterated, so much so, that of late, the Hag found that the man had difficulty feeling a connection to the dreams they conjured up.
The one thing the Hag learned to avoid was anything that had to do with the Hammer Bearer's wife. Early on, they found that memories of Muriel awakened Jeaf and the blue light that accompanied Vlad'War's Magic. At times like these, more sacrifices than usual had to be made to reinforce the Sphere of Magic's power that weakened as it struggled to subdue the dead wizard's power and the man he had given it to. Never sacrificed quickly, the doomed were tortured first so that their screams would make Jeaf forget the memories of the woman he loved. And once memories of Muriel had been pushed aside, Jeaf's stupification fell back into place.
This was the condition the Hammer Bearer found himself in as he was transported out of the Hall of the Moon by a host of attending Hag. Though a feeling of relief washed over him, as the room that held the blood-soaked stone altar disappeared when the Sphere of Power he was in was carried off into an adjacent tunnel, he could make no sense of his new surroundings. But that was alright with him. He had come to accept his confusion as being normal. For five long winters, he had never eaten or had the need to relieve himself. Sustained by Hag magic, his bodily needs were put on hold, except for his mind, and after all that had happened to it, his brain was barely functioning. So why not be surrounded by stone walls and a throng of black-robbed wizards?
Jeaf could sense motion. But slowly twirling about inside the Sphere of Power, he couldn't rightly guess the distance he had traveled. Nor did he care. Nothing had made sense to him for so long that he had quit trying to understand what was happening around him. Things were simply the way they were. So, he chose to numb his feelings and turn off that part of his brain that tried to define his experiences and organize them into discernable patterns.
Resigning himself to the vagaries of an incoherent existence, Jeaf lacked the faculties to make a guess as to why the Hag were moving him form the Hall of the Moon where he had spent the past five winters. Someone launching a rescue mission aimed at setting him free was unthinkable, since the memories of the freedom he once enjoyed were muddled during in the emotional mayhem that had become his life. Nor could he guess that the Hag were moving him to the dungeons where they planned on waiting for the Sorcerer's arrival.
This act was not motivated by fear since the dark wizards weren't afraid of the raiders. Instead, they were simply obeying orders from Ab'Don who wasn't taking chances with his prized possession. Besides, the Sorcerer was exhilirated by the prospect of using his magic to deal with the foolish tresspassers. With war on the horizon, he could use the practice. And if he was lucky, maybe he'd learn something about the Hammer of Power the intruders were evidently after.
Those who had fallen under the Spell of the White Hand were responsible for informing their dark master about the intruders.
Animated by the magic that the Sorcerer had comjured up, the bloodless fiends were an extension of Ab'Don's life. As such, they had an ability to communicate with their lord without the need of messengers. Dominated by the Spell of the White Hand, their subjugated minds were in continual contact with the one who had enslaved them; contact that enabled them to recieve and transmit thoughts that were clear enough to be understood. Though, at times, the messages were affected by distance and the interference of outside magical forces.
If Ab'Don were to admit it, his exhiliration over the impending fight was tempered by a nagging concern that had been growing ever since he felt the discharge of magic that came from Sky Master's broad slopes, near the vicinity of Mishal Parm's ruins. His unease deepened when a a solitary surviving winged-mutant, that was once a part of a mixed troupe of cretchym and Hag he commissioned to find out what had happened, described another explosion of power that destroyed the winged-horde the cretchym had been traveling with and all of the Hag as well.
Having left his brethren to chase the female cretchym they had captured in the midst of Mishal Parm's ruins, the lone survivor had lived to tell his tale. This wouldn't have been the case if he had chosen to fight the shape-shifter, who had come to rescue the diminuitive female, like the rest of the winged-demons did. Since the little cretchym was the only female of their kind that any of them had run across, it was surprising that more of his winged-brethren hadn't joined in the chase
whose end promised delights never experienced before.
Possessing wings that looked like a long, black cape as he stood before his master, the surviving cretchym spoke out of a black, skull-like face as he reported how he heard an ear-splitting explosion. Instinctively fleeing from the sound, the cretchym looked over his shoulder and saw a giant bubble of light rising high above the tree tops surrounding Mishal Parm's ruins. Watching the broiling llumination sweep over his winged-brethren, who were futiley trying to escape the light’s expanding boundaries, the cretchym threw himself on the ground to keep from being swept away by the brilliant storm’s passing. When the light finally abated, his comrades were no where to be found. Nor any of the Hag.
This story, coming when it did, kept Ab'Don from minimizing the attack on Chylgroyd's Keep. Confident in his own ability to handle matters, the Sorcerer wasn't about to entrust someone else to deal with the troubling nuisance, not when the Hammer Bearer was involved. So, with this in mind, the Ab’Don rode on the back of a great fiery winged-worm that his dark powers conjured up so he could fly off to Chylgroyd's Keep. Looking like a ribbon of brilliant light coursing through the air, this was the same type of magical phenomenon he had used to escape after the Battle of the Temple of the Oak Tree was lost.
Transporting the Hammer Bearer, and his dangerous weapon, in Spheres of Power that looked like they were made of coalesced heat waves, the black-robed Hag wanted to reach the dungeons as quickly as possible. Maybe that's why they didn't see the flash of blue light that appeared deep inside one of the dark tunnels that intersected with the one they were using; a blue emission that captured Jeaf Oakenfel's vacillating attention like it was a hand nudging a sleeper awake; a demure flash of light that pulled on the Hammer of Power in a way that made the Hag have to use their magic to compensate for the bump in the road.
Slowly twirling about in the Spheres of Power's grasp, the blue flash compelled Jeaf's body to face the hole it came out of as the thoughts that accompanied the burst of light reached into his mind, thoughts that Hag magic, and his mentally unstable condition, kept Jeaf from comprehending except for one word- Father. And after the word worked its way into his mind, scattered memories of four boys and the woman who had given birth to them followed, though they were vague like the kind of recollections one has of their earliest childhood.
Son? Ay'Roan was sure he had heard his father's reply. But it was weakly conveyed and was offered up more as a question than a reply.
What have they done to our father? The mind that Ay'Roan's thoughts had touched was so unfocused that he wondered if his father was still sane.
This brought doubts about what he would find if the raiders successfully freed Jeaf. The doubts cast an ominous shadow over the raiders' chances of escaping Chylgroyd's Keep once the Hammer Bearer was loosed. The raiders' plan counted on Jeaf's help to pull this off. But the mind Ay'Roan's thoughts had reached into was in no condition to make the kind of quick decisions warfare required. Burn it to ashes! He wondered if his father would even recognize him. But the questions had to be shelved for the time being. There was a battle to fight, and that was enough to think about for now.
Once the Hag were gone, Ay'Roan and Poroth moved into the tunnel his father had been carried through with the Wisdor Rings in place. Little did he know that Vlad'War's Magic accompanied his thoughts as he sent them out to his father, and revealed itself in a flash of blue light that escaped the enveloping Field of Invisibility.
****
As many guards as they had earlier encountered, J'Aryl was surprised by how empty the keep now felt. Still, another trap could be sprung at any moment, though the chances of that were less likely as time passed. It appeared the Hag, who were moving his father, were set on reaching the keep's bowels. When the name Son reached out from below and touched his mind, a name Ay'Roan's attempt to communicate with their father had elicited, J'Aryl was convinced of this. That's why he encouraged the others to avoid the dangerous tunnels and, whenever possible, use their ropes to lower themselves from one bridge to another and head straight for the dungeons.
“Their taking my father to the dungeons,” he told the Neflin before he explained his plan. And once the rescuers reached a chasm, whose bottom was filled with the tell-tale orange glow cast off by the ever present fires used to light the arena where hapless victims were tortured, the Lorn Elves took out their ropes and cast them at the nearest bridge below them. A moment later they looked liked beads of rain water sliding along a spider's web as they dropped downward.
The farther they went, the fouler the stench-filled air became. From the Neflin perspective, the lower keep- where the sky was supplanted by hard stone and the scent of the greenwood was replaced by the overpowering stink that rose from the dungeons- was the kind of place that the damned would be consigned to, to pay for the crimes they committed in a life now past. This increased their angst as they willingingly descended into the horrible abyss.
****
Ay'Roan's company of raiders had the good fortune of avoiding a fight so far. From what he gathered, from the scattered thoughts and feelings J'Aryl was able to get to him, this was because his brother had drawn the keep's guards away from him. In spite of this, he knew luck no longer played a part in their unchallenged pursuit of the Hag who were carrying his father along. The occassional sound of steel inadvertently bumping against steel that came out of the tunnels they passed told him this. The glimpses of guards they saw moving along the bridges, either below or above the one that spanned the chasm they were crossing, added weight to this conclusion. If this were a game that was being played, Ay'Roan guessed the Hag's inscrutable strategy was unfolding just as they planned it to.
But this wasn't a game, and the end of the contest would be determined more by magic than muscle and steel. The problem with this was that much of the supernatural means that would give the raiders a chance for victory was locked away in the Spheres of Power the enemy controlled, those with the Hammer Bearer and Hammer of Power in them respectively.
In time, the guards became less careful about remaining hidden. Where there once was only an occassional warrior spotted on the other bridges that spanned the chasms they were crossing, now three and four at a time could be seen. And none of these hurried to get out of sight. Plus the sounds of pursuit could be heard behind them. Ay'Roan guessed that the measure of stealth the guards had been using was no longer needed because the raiders had reached a point that was so deep inside the Chylgroyd's Keep that the Orskovyt and Malamor warriors reckoned their simplistic ruse was no longer necessary.
Most likely, they also guessed that the intruders weren't going to leave without having a go at capturing the Hammer of Power. Having witnessed the shape-shifting wizard manifest himself in their presence, the guards rightly guessed that the raiders had more things hidden away in their bag of tricks. Otherwise, the invaders wouldn't have undertaken such a foolhardy task in the first place. So, why conceal themselves like children playing hide-n-seek?
Eventually the Fane J'Shrym reached the dungeons where the air was stiffling hot by reason of fires the torturors kept at a continual blaze. Caves were normally cooler in their depths, but not this place that cruel hands had scaped out of the surrounding stone; this place of unceasing suffering where the captives learned to loathe the day they were born.
Copious prison cells, with iron bars firmly esconced in the mouths of their grotto-like enteriors, were soon seen. Each contained a bedraggled collection of men, women, and children who looked half starved to death. Corridors that ran off to the left and right were lined with the same kind of chambers. Some of these housed animals: bears, mountain lions, wildcats, wolves, feral-looking dogs, and badgers. Sheep, goats, and barnyard swine were there too. The later group of animals was an obvious food source. Why there were so many carnivors was anyone's guess.
After Poroth took time to break one of the cells open, only to find that the prisoners had fallen into a malaise that kept them from responding to his urg
es to leave the place, further endeavors to help the captives were not attempted. The lengthy time it took to break the heavy lock made this a prudent decision, as well as the fact that any prisoner brave enough to heed Poroth's urgings, would most likely be cut down by the guards that followed them.
The bright orange light cast off by the, as yet, unseen fires, riddled the dungeon with shadows that lay upon the walls and floors like dark paint had been thrown about to offset the light’s intnesity. Many of the prisoners reflected this dynamic in faces that were half hidden in darkness and half bathed in luminous clarity that revealed deep set eyes, glazed over with the sense of helplessness that was entrenched in their pain-numbed brain.
After passing by hundreds of cells, Ay'Roan and the rest of the Fane J'Shrym entered a great circular space with stalagtites hanging from its high ceiling like they were scores of elongated chandeliers that commanded the spacious room. The natural formations told the raiders that they had moved beyond the keep's columns of stone and into an adjacent cavern. Here the rock was composed of materials that could be easily worked with. Thus, the vast open area and the multiple rings of cells that surrounded it on three sides. A large pool of black water spred across the fouth side, blocking the way that led off into a network of caves whose end no one had ever found, nor did many of those who went off to explore the continuing expanse return.
Flame-filled pits pock-marked the vast floor where a host of Hag stood waiting for Ay'Roan and the others. Blood-stained stone tables were arranged like it was the biggest operating room in all the warl. Spheres of Power floated in the air above two of the tables: the Hammer Bearer was in one; the[EH8] other held the Hammer of Power. Black-robed wizards surrounded both of these. All held candles as black as their robes, lit and at the ready for battle.
The guards, flowing into the room from corridors that ran between the cages, were quickly amassing themselves on either side of the company of dark wizards. The blue livery of the Malamor on one side and the Orskovyt’s black and gray on the other. These[EH9] were careful to avoid getting in front of the Hag, lest they were inadvertently swept away by the magic that would soon be sent forth to destroy the intruders. Their job would be to mop up after the Hag were done.
