Vlad'War's Anvil

by Rex Hazelton

  Stepping within reach of the young man's weapon, the cretchym swung his sword in a way that forced Ay'Roan to intercept it with his own blade to protect himself. The purpose of his move was to get a feel for the magic that embued Ay'Roan's sword with the blue light that danced lightly along its sharp edges.

  When the swords met, blue sparks flew off the young man's blade as it knocked Roy'Dohk's weapon easily aside. The force that the cretchym felt coming from Ay'Roan's sword was unexpected. Maybe the little human would put up more of a fight than he anticipated?

  Striding heavily across the warm stone floor, Roy'Dohk circled his opponent as he swung his blade time and again. The noise the two weapons made as their steel edges met was unusually loud, in part because all other sound had ceased as the onlookers watched, but mostly because these were no ordinary swords. For all practical purposes, the ensuing battle was one between wizards, though neither opponent would claim to be such. Having been exposed to magical machinations all their lives, and trained to use supernatural means in a fight, both considered themselves to be warriors only.

  A glint of silver light drew Ab'Don's attention to the Hammer of Power that looked as it always had for the past five winters once he settled his gaze upon it. Was he imagining things? Then he heard the Hammer Bearer moan. A subtle, calculating smile slipped into place as the Sorcerer recognized the signs that told him his plan was working. I'll get my hands on you today, he said to himself as he continued looking at Vlad'War's Child.

  Then a flash of blue light turned his attention away from the Hammer of Power and to Alynd the Elf-Man who was staring at him with eyes that glowed like burning embers. His smile broadened with delight at the thought that the intruders were futiley trying to figure out his strategy that would end with him usurping the role of Hammer Bearer from the unworthy man who hung limply in the air behind him. And once he had Vlad'War's Child in hand, he would strike the first blow of the coming war with Nyeg Warl by destroying Jeaf Oakenfel and those who stood before him. This would be a crippling blow that would remove so many key players from the real game before it even began.

  Roy'Dohk was frustrated that he couldn't knock Ay'Roan off balance no matter how hard he swung his sword. It didn't make sense since he was so much bigger than the young man. The weight of his sword alone should leave his opponent staggering as it crashed down on his significanlty smaller blade. It was almost like the man's sword was feeding off his weapon's own inertia; like the blade's magic was increased by the power that was used against it.

  This realization made Roy'Dohk determined to separate the sword from the swordsman; a feat he was certain he couldn't accomplish without help. So he spred his wings and beat them against the air twice to give him the separation he needed to have time to dip his blade into one of the fire pits that pock-marked the cavern's floor and let it soak up the evil power that was stored there. As he did this, the flames in the other pits rose up higher like they wanted to get a better view of the one who was conjuring up their might. When Roy'Dohk finally removed his sword from the pit, it glowed orange and yellow like any piece of steel would when newly drawn out of a blackmsith's forge.

  Spreading his wings as wide as he could and bellowing out with equal measures of excitement and anger, Roy'Dohk strode toward the human like a giant going on a rampage.

  Seym Blood roared back at the cretchym. Hearing the griffin's angry response to Roy'Dohk's bellowing, Bacchanor's form became indistinct, turning into a cloud of intermingled color that resolved itself into the shape of a griffin that looked like Seym Blood's twin. Then he roared too.

  Ab'Don laughed.

  The Hag stood motionless while the guards gripped their swords, anticipating the battles end.

  Bellowing again, Roy'Dohk swung his glowing sword at Ay'Roan not caring whether his blade reached the young man's flesh or not. His target was the sword with the blue light dancing on its edges. When the radiant orange and yellow steel reached Ay'Roan's blade, it wasn't repulsed as before. Instead, it flowed around the blue steel and gripped the blade like it was a hand made of molten metal. With a violent pull, the massive cretchym yanked the magical sword out of Ay'Roan's grasp, using his maleable blade to do the trick.

  But before Roy'Dhok could savor his victory, the young man charged at him like an enraged bull. Hitting the surprised cretchym with his shoulder, Ay'Roan knocked the winged-demon to the ground. Flowing with the inertia of his attack, Ay'Roan continued to drive his body into Roy'Dohk with strength that was far greater than his size should have been able to generate.

  This is no ordinary human, Roy'Dohk correctly surmized before Ay'Roan smashed his fist into the giant cretchym's snarling mouth. Two, three, four times, he hit the monster. His fifth strike was brought up short by the cretchym's retalitory blow that sent Ay'Roan sprawling across the floor.

  Wiping blood off his muzzle-like mouth, Roy'Dohk stood and cast his molten sword and the blade it held in its grasp aside. He would fight the pesky human on even terms. Besides, he had claws and the boy didn't. And as he advanced on the human, who was already bracing himself for the attack, Roy'Dohk's molten sword spred over the top of Ay’Roan’s blade. Before it hardened, the cretchym's weapon sent tendrils of liquid steel searching for finger holds in the stone below.

  Looming over the young human like he was a butcher choosing an animal to slaughter, Roy'Dok swung his fist, using his massive torso's rotation to give it power.

  Ay'Roan blocked the blow with his forearm as he was knocked to one knee. A second blow was quick to follow. This time Roy'Dohk's claw-tipped fingers were being used like a griffin's paw as they raked the young man's body, cutting his clothes and flesh alike.

  Disregarding his blood lose, fueled by adrenaline and the magic that was his birthright, Ay'Roan charged at the giant beast again. Grabbing one of Roy'Dohk's crooked cat-like legs, he pulled and twisted at the same time, toppling the beast to the ground before he, once again, was on top of the monster bashing Roy'Dohk's face with fists as hard as stone.

  Ay'Roan's strength startled the Sorcerer. Seeing the gossamer blue light covering him, Ab'Don gave the young man's magic-embued sword credit for the impressive power display. Little did he know that Ay'Roan's inherent magic increased his strength as need required.

  Though his ability to lift great weight had amazed those who witnessed his legendary feats of strength, his power had its limits. But on occassion, as the situation called for it, his strength exceeded its normal paramaters. Once, he single-handedly lifted the front of a nearly completed Bjorkian longboat off the carpenter who was building it, after the frame that was holding the vessel up suddenly collapsed. Another time, he grabbed a rock bear from behind and pulled it off a Bjorkian hunter it was mauling. Then locking his arms around the massive bruin's neck, he choked it into unconsciousness.

  But Ab'Don didn't know any of this. His attention was focused on the sword that J'Aryl held. Surely, this talisman, and its twin, was responsible for the exertion of supernatural might he had recently felt coming from the Sky Master's slopes near to Mishal Parm's ruins. With this in mind, his thoughts continued down the road they had taken. Could it be that these young men found Vlad'War's Anvil and used it to tap into the dead wizard's power?

  Recalling how he had found Jeaf Oakenfel trying to do that very thing, led to this question. Others followed. Could it be that the blue swords had captured the drudged up remnants of Vlad'War's fading power and brought the magic here? Could he be so lucky?

  Reckoning that the young men were Jeaf's sons, he wondered how the Nyeg Warlers could be so foolish to bring such valuable weapons here where his power was greatest, except in the Hall of Voyd itself, here where he could take the swords for himself as easily as plucking ripe fruit off of one of the trees that grew outside the great city of Malam. Having trapped its mate beneath Roy'Dohk's steel, the Sorcerer planned to sieze J'Aryl's weapon as well, and place them both in his personal arsenal of magical devices. With the Hammer of Power's indomitable magic being
so hard to subdue, Ab'Don gained comfort from the thought that he would at least make the swords his own. But he wasn’t ignorant of the danger that accompanied this compromise.

  No! Ab’Don huffed air out of his nose in disdain over his own ruminations. How dare he consider killing Jeaf Oakenfel and setting his quest to discover the Hammer of Power's secrets aside? The Sorcerer quickly spurned the seductive thought. No, he told himself, I willl have them all, hammer and swords.

  If the Hammer of Power was Vlad'War's Child, the swords could be considered to be his grandchildren. And Ab'Don wanted everything that belonged to the wizard who was proving to be troublesome long after he died.

  Bleeding from both his mouth and nose, Roy'Dohk finally shoved the young man off his chest where he had been pummeling the cretchym with his angry fists.

  Rolling across the ground, Ay'Roan grabbed one of the monster's wings that lay askew on the stone floor due to the rough treatment he had dealt the cretchym, and dragged Roy'Dohk along the ground to keep him off balance. Rolling to his side, Roy'Dohk kicked out with one of his feet and knocked Ay'Roan through the air with the force his powerful leg produced. Then he rose to his feet and took stock of the situation.

  He's healing himself, Roy'Dohk surmised as he noted how the young man's lose of blood had been stemmed. Having struck Ay'Roan more than once, he knew he would have cut the human badly if he had been a normal opponent. But this adversary, wrapped in diaphanous blue light, was far from normal. His skin was not easily cut, even with the power the massive cretchym put behind each violent blow. And the purchase his claws gained in the man's flesh, with the damage that followed, was soon mended by magic Roy'Dohk was unfamiliar with. Instead of waning, the young man's strength seemed to be increasing as the battle went on. How could that happen when he had trapped Ay'Roan's enchanted sword beneath his own magical weapon?

  Something had to change if Roy'Dohk was going to defeat the extraordinarily resilent human, the man who waited in the wings with a sword whose edges rippled with blue flame, and still have enough strength to deal with the griffin who was the true prize.

  Repeatedly punching and slashing at the Ay’Roan in an attempt to keep the human at arms length so he couldn't get ahold of one of the cretchym’s legs and bring him to the ground where the pugalistic assault on the winged-demon's bloody face would be renewed, Roy'Dohk shouted, "YOU FIRE-BLASTED WORM, I'VE HAD ALL I'M GOING TO TAKE FROM YOU!"

  Shaking himself like he was trying to get free from something that was holding him back, the monstrous cretchym spred out his wings and lifted up into the air with a single flap of his huge, feathered appendages. Another flap and he was well beyond his foe’s reach. Two more flaps sent the huge mutant soaring through the cavern. After circling overhead so he could get a good look at Seym Blood, Roy'Dohk was pleasantly surprised to see a second griffin had arrived.

  Twice the fun, twice the satisfaction, he told himself before he settled to the ground beside the firepit that was farthest from Ay'Roan where he replicated his earlier action.

  This time he thrust his clenched fist into the flames instead of the sword he once carried. Like the unholy fire had done to his blade, it made his well-muscled arm look like glowing steel taken out of a raging hot furnace. Then it swept onto his broad chest. From there, the orange glow fell down over his torso and legs while simultaneously continuing on to cover his other arm.

  In time, the broad expanse of the cretchym's wings was enveloped in orange and yellow light that made them look like twin swords pulled out of a blacksmith's forge. Last of all, the firepit's light rose up and covered Roy'Dohk's head with a mane made of leaping flames. And when the winged-demon laughed over the joy he felt as unholy power flowed into his massive body, orange and yellow sparks flew from his mouth.

  The power that Roy'Dohk had absorbed was an accumulation of the life forces that were drained out of the host of human sacrifices made in Chylgroyd's Keep. For the blood of the victims was the fuel that feed the dungeon's fires.

  "What are you going to do now?" Roy'Dohk shouted out with a confidence breed by the power that engorged his muscles. "Where are you going to run?" The flames dancing about the cretchym's head made it look like a sun in its glory. "Your thin veil of blue light won't hide you from me any longer, not here where the blood of so many has been spilled to increase my master's magic.

  “Behold, the Sorcerer's might, for he has lit the flame that engulfs me!"

  As the cretchym roared, orange and yellow flames lept out from Roy'Dohk's body in a flash of blinding fury before the monster strode with ponderous might towards the man who braced himself for the approaching onslaught.

  Unfortunately for Ay'Roan, Roy'Dohk was right, the magic he had drawn out of the well of Chylgroyd Keep's dark power was too much for the human to contend with. As such, the contest's dynamics changed. Where the cretchym's clawed fingers could barely cut beyond Ay'Roan's protective skin, they now dug deep into his flesh; and, instead of toppling Roy'Dohk as easily as he had before, Ay'Roan was now only able to bring the winged-demon to one knee on occasssion.

  As quick as a cat in a deadly alley fight, Roy'Dohk swatted the human twice. Claws, as long as paring knives cut into Ay'Roan like he was a large piece of fruit. Blood welled up in the deep gashes that criss-crossed one another as they stretched from Ay'Roan's shoulders to his rib cage. A moment later, Roy'Dohk struck him on the head and sent him reeling to the ground, stunned and disoriented. Before he had time to regroup, the winged-demon grabbed ahold of Ay'Roan and flew up into the air so that all who were looking on could witness his moment of triumph. And as the flame-covered cretchym hugged the helpless human to his chest, he opened his jaws to reveal his impressive fangs a moment before he bit down on Ay'Roan's head.

  If he had been a normal man, Ay'Roan's skull would have cracked like a nut struck by an iron mallet. But Vlad'War's Magic wouldn't give way so easily. Instead, the cretchym's long fangs could only pierce Ay'Roan's scalp, sending streams of blood running over his face and the hair that covered his head. One of these streams flowed down a long, thin braid that hung in front of Ay'Roan's ear. Blood was soon falling off the braid, as well as Ay'Roan's chin and jawline, and onto his chest where it joined the warm liquid that was still welling up in the gashes that lay there, those that didn't heal up as quickly as the shallower cuts Ay'Roan sustained before Roy'Dohk was baptized in Chylgroyd's Keep's foreboding fire.

  Instead of being discouraged by his failure to crush Ay'Roan's skull between his powerful jaws, Roy'Dohk continued his assault on the young man's head. Grinding his sharp teeth against bone, as he continued to bite down on his opponent's skull, the winged-monster shook his head in the way carnivores do when they tear into their prey. With a sudden twist of his flame embellished head, the enraged cretchym tried to break Ay'Roan's neck with the violent motion. Then he did it again. And again.

  Ay'Roan screamed in pain as the pressure of the cretchym's fanged jaws began to take their toll. Given enough time, the Sorcerer's Magic would wear down the portion of Vlad'War's power that resided in Ay'Roan. After all, this was Chylgroyd's Keep and not Mishal Parm.

  Sensing this, J'Aryl lept onto Seym Blood's back, who was ready to fly up to free Ay'Roan from the cretchym's deadly embrace.

  Seeing what was happening, Ab'Don lifted his sword and pointed it at the Hammer Bearer before he shouted with a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "I wouldn't do that if I was you."

  Then the Sorcerer gestured to the Hag with his free hand and six of the dark wizards withdrew their candles' magic from the luminous shield-wall. Reshaping the parafin talismans' flames into fiery spears, the Hag hurled them at the Sphere of Power that imprisoned Jeaf Oakenfel. Piercing the sphere's shimmering skin with the force their creators used to launch them into the air, the radiant spears stopped a finger's width from Jeaf's limp body. There they pulsed with the magical might that would ram them into his flesh once the Hag gave the orders.

  Accentuating the threat, Ab'Don pointed his swor
d at a portion of the Sphere of Power that was closest to each spear. Heeding his command, the magical globe's surface reshaped itself into the form of shoulders and arms whose hands took hold of the fiery lances. This was done without compromising the sphere's ability to keep the Hammer Bearer imprisoned. Bent in a way that gathered energy for a throw, the arms were ready to thrust the sharp spears into the helpless man they were pointed at.

  Blue light flashed out of the shadow sitting beneath the Elf-Man’s broad-brimmed hat when he saw the Hammer of Power move inside the sphere that held it. "Wait," he said to J'Aryl and Seym Blood with a voice that sounded like a musical instrument. "Wait until help comes," he added as he continued to gaze upon the Hammer of Power.

  "What help?" J'Aryl was frustrated by Alynd's interference until he followed the Elf-Man’s gaze and caught sight of the Hammer of Power’s sporadic twitching.

  At last, Ab'Don thought as he looked upon the sight along with Alynd and J’Aryl. The Hammer of Power has come to life. And now I can force it to reveal its secrets to me.

  With a wave of his hand, a third of the Hag turned their hooded heads toward him as he spoke into their minds. When he pointed his finger at the Sphere of Power that imprisoned Vlad'War's Child, the Hag swung about and sent their flaming shields racing up to reinforce the sphere. When the shields reached the magical globe, they wrapped themselves about the rippling orb, turning it into a ball of blazing fire that drew in upon the Hammer of Power in an attempt to take control of the talisman and the magic it possessed. And the smaller the sphere became, the more its magic intensified as it coalesced into a dense mass of supernaturel might that was determined to make Vlad’War’s Magic its own.