by Rex Hazelton
Fire-blasted stones, Travyn thought. I knew it was taking too long to break chips off of the blasted thing. How will we have time enough to free both Crooked Finger and Horbyn’s daughter?
“Why our master would waste time with you is beyond me.” The first Hag hissed his disdain once he was done speaking.
“The news said that a battle had been fought at Chylgroyd’s Keep,” the second Hag replied. “Maybe Horbyn’s Healing Magic is needed.”
“It’s ridiculous to think Lord Ab’Don could be hurt.”
“Maybe he’s not returning by himself. There are prominent brothers stationed at the keep.”
“Brothers that can’t protect themselves don’t deserve mercy.”
“Maybe you should let me pass.” Horbyn joined the conversation without missing a beat.
“Alright… go ahead and enter the hall.” The first Hag replied with a tone of voice that said he wouldn’t give Horbyn permission if it was left up to him
“Who are these with you?” The second Hag asked when he realized Horbyn wasn‘t alone. Why he hadn‘t noticed the men before was disconcerting.
“The Master gave orders to bring two recruits along with me.” He lifted a brow as he tilted his head towards the brothers.
“Ah,” the Hag responded with a chuckle. “That’s it then.”
Horbyn gave a nod of agreement to everything Ah implied. Ab’Don wasn’t asking for a Healer alone, he was asking for those who would supply the blood he needed to work his magic. It made sense to do such a thing on the heels of a battle. His power would need to be replenished. And these two were good candidates to supply the fuel the Sorcerer’s flame would feed on. Neither had a bit of magic in them as far as the Hag could tell. And as all who lived in the Hall of Voyd knew, the more vulnerable their victims were, the more power could be extracted from the sacrifice.
The Hall of Voyd was longer than the Eagle King’s Great Hall back in Nyeg Warl and just as wide, though this made it proportionately as narrow as a Bjorkian longboat. Fashioned in the same style the corridors the men had passed through, the massive room’s ceiling was higher than it was wide. Its windows were appropriately elongated. All this was meant to convey the idea of transcendence. Reaching upward, everything pointed to the sky above. The carvings of blazing suns, that were positioned between the hall’s windows, each inlaid with gold, emphasized the Sorcerer’s aspirations. The golden throne that sat on a raised dais at the hall’s end made this abundantly clear.
At first the brothers thought the blazing, golden sun, filling the far end of the Hall of Voyd, was the backdrop to the throne. As they followed Horbyn, who steadfastly walked the length of the room, they came to realize the giant sun was the throne itself. At the center of the mass of gold, that was made to look like a raging sun rising out of the hall’s floor, was a seat that protruded out of the precious metal like a beak on a giant bird of prey whose head was ringed with a crown of serpentine-shaped feathers.
The only other thing that was on the dais was a single chair, stoutly made with angular pieces of gold. This was Isham’s seat, the Sorcerer’s aunt, lover, and advisor.
As the men approached the throne, it became apparent that the golden rays closest to the floor were stunted at their ends to provide openings that could be used to gain access to the area behind. Other than Ab’Don, only Isham was permitted to go this way uninvited. Today, Horbyn, Kaylan, and Travyn would break the rule because the wizard was determined to go behind the throne that let Ar Warl know the Sorcerer was a rising sun that would never set, to a room where Crooked Finger was housed.
Having been invited behind the ostentatious throne to speak with Ab’Don on the few times he wished to discuss matters related to Healing Magic, a subject Horbyn knew more about than all of the other Hag put together, Horbyn was counting on the wards that guarded the rooms found there to view him as a familiar visitor.
Since the scent of Healing Magic that emanated off Horbyn would keep him from being seen as a threat, the message the wards sent out to the Sorcerer about his activity would be more of a prompting rather than a warning, a notification Ab’Don might overlook in the aftermath of the harrowing doings at Chylgroyd’s Keep. This would most certainly be the case if Jeaf Oakenfel had actually been rescued. Then the Sorcerer would be too engrossed in making plans to deal with the troublesome Hammer Bearer then to waste energy worrying about an innocuous Hag whose powers were squandered on dabbling in the Healing Arts.
As for the brothers violating the sanctity of Ab’Don’s private rooms, Horbyn was counting on the fragments of stone calved from the rock taken from the Stone Desert to hide them from the wards. If things went well, they would be mistaken for being extensions of the wizard’s shadow and nothing more.
When the men finally passed beneath the massive golden throne, Horbyn was pleased that the wards reacted just as he hoped they would. He felt the protective magic tense for a moment as it examined him. Then it relaxed and let the harmless wizard pass by. Aware that its master had been in a fight, back when it could sense Ab’Don clearly, the wards weren’t surprised that a Healing Wizard had been summoned. The two men who were with him were completely overlooked.
A gilded door, arched like the giant throne it stood behind, was ajar. The Sorcerer had forgotten to close it in his hasty departure from the Hall of Voyd.
Ab’Don’s oversight removed another hurdle. Since the door only opened at the Sorcerer and Isham’s command, and at the behest of any who the two invited into the chambers that lay beyond. There was no guarantee the door would have responded to Horbyn’s voice, though it had done so on an earlier occasion.
Passing through the door, the men entered a round room lined with shelves filled with books, scrolls, and tablets. On the other side of this stood an opening to a larger room where a long, stone table stood with twelve chairs positioned around it. All was covered with dark stains that spoke of the perverse magic that was practiced here.
The second chamber was a miniature version of the larger hall, only doors stood where windows were found in the Hall of Voyd. Though Horbyn had no idea what lay behind most of the doors, he guessed that some of them opened up to passageways that led to other places on the island. It was only reasonable to think the Sorcerer would want quick access to all he ruled over.
One of the doors opened to Ab’Don‘s own bedchamber. Horbyn knew this because he had been summoned there once. That’s when he saw Crooked Finger on the other side of another door that had been left open, a door he was now moving towards, one that was a short distance beyond the Sorcerer‘s bedroom.
Reaching the door, gilded like the others, Horbyn took out one of the black candles he carried and set it aflame with a Word of Power. Then he reached for the lever that was used to open the door and pulled on it. But nothing happened.
After Horbyn’s litany of incantations and spells had failed to loosen the lever, Kaylan tapped the wizard on the shoulder. “Let my have a try,” he said as he stepped forward and took hold of the lever. But before he turned the handle, Kaylan asked Travyn to join him. Once both of their hands were on the lever, Kaylan said, “Now.”
Responding to the brothers’ touch, the handle gave way to the young men as they pulled the handle down and opened the door.
Stunned by what he had witnessed, Horbyn asked, “How were you able to do that in a place where you don’t belong?”
“We may not belong in the Hall of Voyd, but we do have a kinship with its magic.” Kaylan looked at Horbyn expecting him to follow his reasoning.
“You’re speaking of the darkness that I can sense in both of you.”
“Of course,” Kaylan’s eyes took on a dangerous aspect as he spoke. “When Ab’Don thrust Crooked Finger into our mother’s heart, he pierced our souls as well and left a trace of himself behind. That’s one of the reasons why we were able to open the door. The other reason for our success is that Crooked Finger helped us. You see, when Ab’Don tainted our souls with his magic, we returned t
he favor and tainted Crooked Finger with ourselves. Thus, it longs to be joined to us again, to taste our essence and control our beings as a mind controls the body. Surely you have suspected this dynamic might exist?”
“I had my suspicions.” Horbyn looked apprehensive. “And as you’ve said, that’s why I wanted you to come with me.”
“You used us to get your hands on Crooked Finger?” Travyn hated the idea that someone would try to manipulate him.
“Well, we haven’t got our hands on Crooked Finger yet.” Horbyn decided it best to stand up to Travyn. “And I dare say, you’ve used me as much as I have you. So, get off your high horse and help Kaylan and me finish what we began.”
“Travyn,” Kaylan placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s right. We need him as much as he needs us.”
Crooked Finger wasn’t the only thing in the room that the men entered. There was a Field of Magic surrounding the talisman that kept the thin, iron branch floating in midair. The soot that gathered on the field’s transparent surface, revealed its presence and dimensions. Threads of brilliant, zigzagging light- the same color as the thin, iron branch- shot out of the talisman and struck the Sphere of Power in an erratic way that ended with tiny explosions of pent up magic.
Nothing could be seen below the Sphere of Power, nor was there a chain or rope that held the Field of Magic up like it was some kind of dangling chandelier. The room hadn’t any windows. The lack of blood stains let the men know that dark magic was not practiced here. The prints their feet left in the sooty dust that lay on the floor gave proof to the room’s single purpose- to store Crooked Finger until the day the Sorcerer would need it to defeat the Prophetess and the people of Nyeg Warl who would accompany her into battle.
“How can we disarm the Field of Magic?” Horbyn’s inability to open the room’s door discouraged any attempts he might make to dissolve the Sphere of Power that kept guard over the thin, iron branch.
“You’re asking us?” Travyn was perturbed by Horbyn’s ineptitude. Shouldn’t a Hag know what to do more than those who had spent such a woefully short time in Ar Warl?
Horbyn’s eyes took Travyn in with an icy stare. He was reaching the end of his patience with the irksome brother.
Before the wizard had time to respond, Kaylan interrupted. “Travyn… can you hear Crooked Finger calling?”
“Yes,” Travyn’s irritation over Horbyn was all but forgotten when he focused his attention on the slender, iron branch that floated inside the Sphere of Power. “I feel it drawing me.”
Not one to resist his impulses, Travyn stepped over to the Field of Magic and reached his hand out to touch it.
“No, you fool!” Horbyn shouted.
But it was too late. Once Travyn touched the magic guarding Crooked Finger, it grabbed hold of his hand and pulled it inside its spherical boundaries. His wrist followed. His forearm and elbow were next. All the while Travyn shouted in pain as the talisman quivered in anticipation of the reunion it longed for.
Tendrils of gray light wound about his arm up like roots wrapping around a stone it wished to digest. On and on this went until Travyn’s shoulder and side slammed into the Field of Magic. When this happened, the gray light that flashed about Travyn‘s arm took on a blue cast. And just as quickly as the Sphere of Power had sucked Travyn’s arm in, it spat it back out.
Panting as he cradled his wounded arm, Travyn said, “What was that?”
Horbyn replied, “It could have been worse. If you were anyone else, I believe the sphere’s magic would have killed you. But Crooked Finger wouldn’t let it. Instead, the talisman used the Sphere of Power to drag you to itself. It’s clear to me that Kaylan’s right, Crooked Finger longs to possess you again.”
“If that’s true,” Travyn rubbed life back into his arm as he spoke, “What stopped me from being pulled all the way in?”
Kaylan laughed. “Your sword stopped the talisman when it struck the Field of Magic.”
Sure enough, Travyn’s sword lay in a scabbard that hung below his wounded left arm. The flash of blue light that was seen at the moment of impact must have come from the enchanted blade. This gave Kaylan an idea.
“So, you think Crooked Finger wants to possess my brother and me?”
“Your mother too.” Horbyn rubbed his chin in thought. “More your mother than you boys, I’d wager.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Kaylan withdrew his sword as he spoke. Travyn followed suit. “I’ll be thrown into the Fires of Darkness before I let that happen.” Stepping toward the Field of Magic, he added, “We’ll see who possesses whom.”
Then the twins thrust their swords into the Sphere of Power and blue light lept out of their blades and consumed the magic that enveloped the talisman. No longer held aloft, the slender, iron branch fell to the ground in a clatter of metal.
With his sword still in hand, Kaylan grabbed hold of Crooked Finger and held it aloft. At first he felt the talisman pull on him, trying to take control of his thoughts and emotions, making him feel as weak as an infant. Then the sword’s magic took control and Kaylan felt Crooked Finger cower before the blade that was filled with both Vlad‘War and Ankara‘s Magic.
“Let’s destroy the thing before it does any more harm.” Travyn’s solution to a problem was always direct.
Aghast at what he heard, Horbyn exclaimed, “Destroy Crooked Finger and you might destroy yourselves; if not you, certainly your mother. Think before you act rashly. Remember that Ab‘Don was able to escape from your father at the Temple of the Oak Tree by threatening to destroy the talisman he had thrust into your mother‘s heart. Is that threat now gone?”
“He’s right,” Kaylan surmised as he stuck Crooked Finger into his belt like it was an extra sword he was carrying. “We need guidance on how to deal with Crooked Finger, and that won’t be found here.”
A tremor that swept across the room made Horbyn exclaim, “We must be quick if we want to escape the Hall of Voyd.”
“You mean,” Travyn’s irritation returned as he corrected the wizard, “if we want to rescue your daughter.”
“As much as it grieves me,” Horbyn tried to look forlorn as the tremor increased in strength, “using your swords as you did, and when you did, has made that impossibile. If we don’t go now, the Hag will soon be upon us in mass. We have scant moments to flee before that happens. Unleashing Vlad’War’s Magic in this place has stirred the hornets' nest. Rescuing my daughter must be set aside for now.”
Looking about like he was trying to get his bearings, frowning as the tremor turned into a quake, Horbyn added, “Sheathe your swords for now and hope the flakes of stone that we scattered over your garments will continue to hide their presence.”
Once that was done, the three men took off walking at a brisk pace. To run would draw unwanted attention, and sure enough, when they re-entered the Hall of Voyd, they saw a handful of Hag enter through the main door. “Stay close to me,” Horbyn said as he lifted the black candle he was carrying and pretended to join the others in hunting for the cause of the sense of alarm that was sweeping across the island, an alarm that had little to do with the emerging earthquake.
“Did you check the throne?” One of the Hag asked Horbyn as he looked at the mass of gold that stood unmoved by the tremor.
“Yes. But I wasn’t brave enough to search behind it.”
The Hag spat out in disdain over the Healer’s timidity as a groaning sound rose up from the island’s depths. “It figures you’d be afraid. Out of my way you craven pile of bull splatter.” Pointing at the brothers, the dark wizard snarled at Horbyn and added, “Why don’t you tend to your flock somewhere else and let those with courage deal with matters.” And once the word flock left the Hag’s mouth, it was forgotten.
The quake that the battle at Chylgroyd’s Keep had set off had a destabilizing effect on all of Ar Warl. The tremor that shook the Hall of Voyd traced its origins to that fight, though the struggle had ended some time ago. But the quake wasn’
t the only thing that came from Chylgroyd’s Keep. Sadly, Horbyn and his flock found this out before they had time to escape from the hall.
Nearing the main door that was now open all of the way and shaking right along with the building it was hinged to, fire began to fly through the Hall of Voyd’s open windows, unwarly fire that marked the entrance of the fraethym who served the Sorcerer at the Nameless Evil’s command.
Because the evil spirits home was in the Warl of the Dead, the sheets of flame were drawn to Crooked Finger’s magic that was infused with remnants of darkness that accompanied Muriel‘s spirit as she fled from the realm of the departed and back to the Temple of the Oak Tree where her body hung on an iron tree fashioned by the Sorcerer‘s hand. Because of this, the talisman produced a scent that the fraethym couldn’t resist, a compelling aroma that drove everything else from their fetid minds.
The host that looked like shredded sheets of flame homed in on Kaylan who had Crooked Finger tucked into his belt. Rushing forward with a blast of wind accompanying them, the foul spirits separated the brothers from one another. Viewing Travyn and Horbyn as mere impediments to reaching the prize they desired, the fraethym pushed the two away.
Grabbing Travyn’s shoulder, Horbyn drew him from the mass of flame that swirled about Kaylan. Staggering along as the floor beneath his feet continued to shake, Travyn gave into the wizard’s promptings for a time until he finally set his feet and turned to face the fraethym.
Standing before the hall’s threshold, Travyn reached for the sword he forged atop Vlad‘War‘s Anvil. But Horbyn wouldn’t let him draw it out. Calling on his candle’s magic, he sent a flame out to tie Travyn’s hand to his sword’s sheath. “Look!” the wizard shouted as he grabbed Travyn’s other hand that was reaching for the long knife he planned on sticking into Horbyn’s gut.
Following Horbyn’s gaze, Travyn watched smoke rush through the same windows the fraethym used to enter the Hall of Voyd, smoke that coalesced once it had passed through the windows and took on an inhuman shape with a head far too big for the long, lean body that held it up. Then the smoke drew in tighter until a human form took shape. Color emerged. The wispy edges of smoke were exchanged for the firmness of clothed flesh. And Ab’Don appeared.
