by Rex Hazelton
Roy'Dohk was not so lucky. Few of Ab'Don's followers pursued the Healing Arts. Nevertheless, because the Sorcerer's fire had cauterized his wounds, he was still in the fight.
Chapter 33: The Sorcerer's Advantage
A seasoned warrior who was well-trained in battle strategies and in the art of fighting, for Jeaf was trained in the use of weapons by Aryl Oakenfel and had spent much time with Goldan, the Tsadal who led Nyeg Warl's combined forces against the Lord of Regret's incursion during the Battle of Descision, the Hammer Bearer took command of the raiders.
Seeing the Hag were rebuilding their fiery shieldwall, and being told how his sons had met this threat with their own magical construction, he had Ay'Roan and J'Aryl use the Candle Maker Candles they carried with them and raise up their own battlements. Soon, fire was set in place to combat fire. Blue against yellow-orange. But neither fiery fortress advanced. Each stood waiting for orders from the two men who stood in front of them facing each other- the Sorcerer and the Hammer Bearer.
"You're like a beetle caught in a wooden bowl whose sides are so smooth the insect's feet can't gain any purchase to make an escape." Ab'Don shouted so he could be heard above the earthquake's continuing rumbling. "Like the beetle, you're protected by a shell. But that won't keep me from cutting your legs off and taking Vlad'War's Hammer from you."
Having had his say, the Sorcerer pointed his sword at the firepits that were nearest him and summoned the spirits of those the Hag had sacificed in the Hall of the Moon. Bubbling out of the holes, screaming and crying in anguish as they came, these were the ones the Nameless Evil consigned to protect Chylgroyd's Keep. And as the wraiths cleared the pits' lips, they rose up into the air looking like writhing pillars of smoke that wound their way towards the raiders. Deranged by the torment they suffered on the stone tables that were scattered about the cavern and by their long captivity in the fiery pits confines, madness drove the wraiths to a frenzy that they hurled at the Hammer Bearer and his men. They couldn't do otherwise, for the Sorcerer had bound them to his will by a dark spell he cast over them at the time they were murdered.
Swarming over the Hammer Bearer, the tormented souls smothered Jeaf in the same agony and pain that contaminated their minds.
A cloud of the wraiths crossed over the fiery blue battlements J'Aryl and Ay'Roan had erected as easily as a deer jumps over a stone fence protecting a farmer's fields. Targeting men and elves alike, they blanketed the raiders with the tormenting emotions that ruled their pathetic existence. The fear and anguish that glutted the air the raiders breathed in was so intense that many of the Neflin and Fane J'Shrym were soon joining the cursed souls' in wailing out their woe.
Recognizing the wraiths were now doing the work that the fraethym normally did, Alynd, Bacchanor, and Mar’Gul looked past the expanding cloud of lost souls to the pits they came from and wondered if there were more than flames in the fire. Could there be fraethym as well, waiting for Ab'Don's summons? If there were, it made sense that they stayed in the pits. The malevolent spirits could only influence those in the Warl of the Living whose evil deeds made them vulnerable to their dark machinations. As much as Ar Warl had twisted both the Neflin and Fane J'Shrym into people their ancestors wouldn't recognize, few of them had the kind of darkness inside of them that the evil spirits could do anything of consequence with; especially these who risked their lives to save another.
The wraiths, on the other hand, had no such restrictions placed on them. As spirits that had not completed their journey to the Warl of the Dead, they're ability to interact with the living was close to what it had been in the days when they were clothed in flesh and blood. They could accost anyone who could not fend them off. Unfortunately, the diaphanous blue covering didn't protect the raiders' minds as well as it did their flesh. With emotions as strong as the wraiths had, if only a portion of the anguish they felt wormed its way into the raiders' minds, it could incapacitate their abiltity to defend themseves when the Hag mounted an offensive.
The cloud of anguish-ridden wraiths grew so dense that the raiders were soon blind to each other's presence, no matter how close they stood to one another. The cavern itself was blotted out by an unending stream of ethereal faces, contorted in the most bizarre ways by the depth of pain that drove the wraiths on. Children and old people were as numerous as those who had been slain in their prime. All looked emaciated. Starvation was one of the main courses the merciless Hag fed them. All looked like they were trying to pour their excruciating feelings into the raiders in hopes it would lessen their own suffering. As those who study the human condition say, Pain loves company.
In a belated effort to escape the cloud, Bala spun so fast she looked like a ball of yarn being rolled up overhead as a stream of wraiths rose up to meet her. In time, the vaporous clot of tormented spirits brought her to the ground, adding their shreiks to her screams.
The souls of those whose lives Jeaf was forced to watch being sacrificed to the Nameless Evil in the Hall of the Moon targeted him. These were guards of another kind. They were forced to remain in the Warl of the Living for one purpose only, to prevent the Hammer Bearer from escaping Chylgroyd's Keep. It was their job to keep Jeaf occupied with their tormenting memories as the Hag moved to reassert the shackles he had shaken off. Since Ab'Don was here, the Hag would defer to their master in this matter. But given the circumstances, the Sorcerer was set on killing the man, not returning him to captivity.
Looking like maggots feasting on a piece of rotten meat, the spell Ab'Don had cast over the wraiths drove them to attack Jeaf. Frantically winding their way over and under each other like they were threads in a garment made of smoke, the disconsolate spirits vied for the chance of vomitting their despair on the one who had failed to save them.
This is what Ab'Don told them: The Hammer Bearer could have saved them if he wanted to, but he didn't, because he didn't think they deserved salavation. They were weak... insipid beings who had nothing to offer the warl. So, the Hammer Bearer let them die while he waited to use his magic in behalf of others more deserving. Now that he had taken up his power to save those who were gathered behind him like they were a brood of water fowl following their mother as she waddled along, the dead would make certain he failed to save them too. They would prove that the objects of his affection were as unworthy as the Hammer Bearer deemed them to be.
But not being completely changed from who they once were before the Hag had imprisoned them, the wraiths still wanted Jeaf to set them free. So, they implored the Hammer Bearer to rescue them just as much as they cursed him for failing to do so earlier. This two-pronged attack proved effective in keeping the Hammer Bearer off balance. Casting accusations one moment, and then offering up pathetic supplications the next, the wraiths prevented Jeaf from focusing his power. Accusations alone, for his failure to keep Muriel and the twins safe from harm in the Temple of the Oake Tree still weighed on him, would have aroused him to fight back, to defend himself against the absurd allegations. By themselves, the cries for help would have driven him to do just that- help them. But with the two opposing forces in play, Jeaf was like a battered wife who couldn't escape a husband that fed her equal doses of emotional nourishment and brutality. The former to keep her positioned for the brutal blows he would inevitably rian on her.
The wraith children were the ones who tore at the fabric of Jeaf's recently reclaimed sanity the most. Screaming children, whose voices nearly drove him deaf with the shrill terror that filled them, could prove to be his undoing. They could incapacitate him long enough for the Sorcerer to build a stronger prison about him. This time he wouldn't use rocks, though the keep's stone was far from ordinary, he would use the fire that had followed the wraiths out of the pit, sentient fire that had been breed by the fraethym the Nameless Evil had given Ab'Don to ensure his conquests were successful.
Driven on by the will its fathers had given it, the fire knit itself together in the shape of a dome that surrounded the Hammer Bearer as he struggled with the w
rithing mass of wraiths that purposefully shepherded him away from those who could help him.
Two of the fraethym were there too- Bolkar and Falkar. Having assumed their offspring's fiery form, the two evil spirits came out of the pits and stood on either side of the Sorcerer, looking like pillars of flame that were heard laughing over the joy they had in their childrens' success.
While this was happening, the wraiths that swarmed over the raiders were gaining their own victory, the fiery battlements that J'Aryl and Ay'Roan had built with their magical swords were weakening even as the brothers were. Unable to stay focused on the wall, the structure they had conjured up was fading away until the rich, blue flames had become as transparent as the diaphonous illumination that sheathed the raiders in its protective covering.
The problem was this, the battlements were created with Candle Maker magic. Though Vlad'War's power reinforced its construction, the luminous battlements's strength came from a source that the brother's training in the Candle Maker's ways enabled them to tap into; ways that depended on their mental acuity staying intact; the very thing that the wraiths relentless assault was slowly dismantling.
As the luminous blue battlements weakened, the Hag's shieldwall changed into two V-shaped formations that advanced on the raiders' failing defenses. Moving in front of the brilliant wedges, feral beasts, covered in the Sorcerer's fire, probed the wall for weak spots they could pass through to sink their teeth into the raiders who struggled with the wraiths onslaught. Mountain lions, wildcats, badgers, bears, and wolves were those on the prowl. The guards followed the Hag who split into two groups so they could pass around the fiery dome that was settling about the Hammer Bearer and engage the Neflin and Fane J'Shrym at the same time. This manuever would effectively keep the enemy from being able to attack their flanks.
Inside the dome, twisted up in a cloud of torment, Jeaf stood alone as the forlorned wraiths took turns visiting him, crying out in either torment, pain, or supplication as they did. Children, that reminded him of his own sons he couldn't prevent from being taken into the Nameless Evil's lair, were unbearable to behold as they lamented in the uncontrolled way the young did. Women, who suffered as his wife had in her youth, were just as impacting as the children. The accusations they cast at Jeaf for not stopping evil men from having their merciless way with them, were like well aimed blows in a prize fight whose purse was Jeaf's sanity. The rage that disconsolate mothers and fathers hurled at him, an anger formed in a forge filled with the hot coals of helplessness, were like laceartions sustained in a knife fight. Because Jeaf was no stranger to this sense of helplessness, the infuriated parents' verbal barrage cut deeply into his mind.
Feeling himself becoming undone, not wanting to strike the wraiths who had suffered so much already with the Hammer of Power's magic, Jeaf turned his right palm face up and cried for help. "Vlad'War," he shouted. "What am I to do? I can't harm these spirits. I won't harm them!"
As happened in times past when the Hammer Bearer called on the dead wizard for help, a silvery mist rose up out of Jeaf's open palm and began to swirl about until it took on the shape of a small orb with a surface resembling transparent glass. When the wraiths saw this they withdrew a pace. In time, the silvery mist inside the orb coalesced into a human figure. Once coloring was added, a man who wore a red cape over armor made of star's blood was seen. His dark hair, as wavy as J'Aryl's own, looked like it was being tossed about in a breeze. Fluttering around him, the red cape's liquid movements added to the impression that insistent gusts of wind were blowing over the man.
"Greetings Fane J'Shrym," Vlad'War intoned with a sense of decorum. "How can I be of service?"
"Behold the wraiths." Desperation glutted Jeaf's reply.
Aware of all that the Hammer of Power had witnessed, for he knew about the ensuing struggle in fine detail, Vlad'War looked at the wraiths and said, "Aye, it's a conundrum alright. How do we deal with these who have borne so much grief without adding to their misery?"
After turning his gaze back to Jeaf, the wizard asked a question. "You know something about their suffering, don't you Hammer Bearer?"
"Thankfully, I know very little compared to the wraiths who are attacking me. But what I do know breaks my heart."
"You feel guilt because you didn't stop Ab'Don from hurting your wife and sons back in Otrodor at the Temple of the Oak Tree."
"I'm a father. It's my job to protect my family. If I fail to do this, what good am I?"
Things were taking a strange turn. Jeaf hadn't asked Vlad'War to delve into his thoughts. He wanted the wizard to tell him how to deal with the wraiths before the Sorcerer stepped up his attack.
"So, you're saying you're no good because you couldn't keep you're loved ones from being hurt?"
"No... I'm not saying that. But I do have regrets. And I have anger in me that I can't shake... and bitterness that raises its ugly head up when I'm too weak to push it back down." Jeaf swallowed hard as he took time to revisit the things he had just said. "But I defeated Ab'Don in Otrodor. I saved my wife and children's lives. Why isn't that good enough? Why doesn't that assuage my guilt?"
"You said it yourself, you're a father. And a father wants the best for his family: health, wholeness, love, and a life without heartache.
"But life doesn't always give us what we want. Chaos can challenge stability. Storm clouds can blot out the sun. Devastating winds can accompany the rain we need. Light and darkness replace one another in their turn. A father must deal with all of this."
"How?" Jeaf blurted out.
"By doing the best he can. A father doesn't get overwhelmed by things that are already done. How would that help his loved ones? He gains wisdom from life's tragedies and uses it to move his family forward so they can taste life's sweetness when it is offered.
"The fool says, all is evil. But I say, there's more good in life than bad. Still, at times we must endure the cold night's darkness until the sun rises to warm our hearts. This is a metaphor a father would do well to remember."
"How will this help me get rid of the wraiths?"
"By sharing the dark night with them until day appears."
With that said, Vlad'War stretched out his arms like he was getting ready to greet a friend. But instead of an acquaintance coming to embrace him, the wraiths were drawn to the welcoming wizard. One by one, they were pulled into the transparent sphere Jeaf held in his hand. Then they came by threes and fours until the ghostly flow became a steady stream that engorged the tiny orb with its darkness. In the end, not a single wraith that had been swarming over Jeaf remained. They were all in the sphere along with Vlad'War who was busy pressing the etheral throng into an ever smaller ball than the one he stood in until it was no larger than a coin-sized marble that he stashed away in a pocket that lay hidden behind his breastplate.
"Now to other business," Vlad'War said this as he hit his hands together like he was knocking off any darkness that still clung to them. "Heed my words. If nature fails you, call on the Fane J'Shrym, for Bacchanor isn't the only shape-shifter here. Now let me show you something."
When Vlad'War was done speaking, the orb became a swirling mass of silvery vapor once more. But instead of being reabsorbed into Jeaf's flesh as it had in times past, the silvery mass took on the shape of a weapon that grew into a shimmering replica of the Hammer of Power. Still, Jeaf's arm kept its silvery cast and red coloring was hidden beneath the flesh that was covering his knuckles.
With this hammer in hand and having experience with evil spirits, though the dome was only comprised of fire that was imprinted with the fraethym's wicked mindon it and wasn't a collection of beings as such, Jeaf addressed the flames like they were. "BE GONE!" he shouted.
Aware that the fraethym could only gain access to its prey when a door was left open either by an evil deed done or an evil thought embraced, the Hammer Bearer struck the fiery dome with words filled with magic. With the wraiths that had been attacking Jeaf now gone, and with the Hammer Bearer rejecting th
e regrets that once plagued him and embracing the heart of a father as Vlad'War explained it, the door of opportunity was closed to the freathym's fire that was now stripped of much of its power. Weakened as they were, the flames fled as the commanding voice broke upon them like a massive wave that threatened to douse their fire beneath its fury.
Fearing the man who had so easily dispelled them, the flames avoided the pits that were vulnerably closs to the powerful stranger. Instead, the flames chose to gather at the cave's ceiling where it took on the aspect of a brilliant, undulating cloud. The wraiths, who were assaulting the Neflin and Fane J'Shrym, soon followed the retreating fire. Though Jeaf's command wasn't specifically directed at them, the magic that filled his words caught them up in its compelling power and sent them fleeing as well.
With the wraiths and flames winding their way through each other in a pattern that had no beginning or ending, they looked like a volcano's violent discharge. The quaking cavern only added to the illusion as the mass of fire and spirits waited for the Sorcerer to act.
Startled by how effortlessly Jeaf had escaped the fiery dome, the Hag quickly forsook their V-shaped formations and formed battle lines on either side of the Hammer Bearer with their magically-generated shields held up in front of them for protection.
Seeing Jeaf standing alone, the wild animals attacked him. Using his newly found weapon, the Hammer Bearer swung the extention of Vlad'War's Magic like he was trying to flatten foliage that had grown up in the path he was taking. Crushing the first wave of bears, wolves, and mountain lions with a back and forth sweep of the hammer that was becoming more substantial as each moment passed, the rest of the fire-clad beasts wisely decided to avoid entering the kill zone. Once Jeaf drove the wild animals back, he turned to face the Sorcerer with an exact replica of the Hammer of Power in his hand even though Vlad'War's Child was still inside of him strengthening his muscles, sharpening his wits, filling him with the wizard's inimitable magic.
