* * * *
One incident with a foul being ruined her trust in most creatures during the chronicling sessions.
The elves were known to make special arrangements for war-torn members of the city to sit and talk with folk gifted with the talent of writing fast, taking down all that was told, who then went back and re-wrote them. These chronicles were cast into large books of many pages that were brought back to the Library of Songs where they were then reviewed and verified. Such folk were brought in from the outside to do such work. One day a stranger came calling who specifically asked for Ithyllna, wanting to record her lore for the archives. The being turned out to be an imposter of great wiliness, and nearly killed her. Ithyllna was far too versed in war to be swayed. Even after suffering a large wound in her left side, she struck down the scoundrel with her might. She vowed to never again allow her guard down to anyone who was not her kin, or brethren in arms.
* * * *
Nimoni smiled and brushed the side of her maiden friend's cheek softly, a gesture not taken lightly by Ithyllna, who smiled and nodded her head.
Aerinas had turned to see his mother off. When she turned away from Ithyllna, Ithyllna looked toward Aerinas and caught him staring at her. She offered only a polite nod, to which he replied with one of his own. Even unspoken, the mutual respect between the Krayn went far beyond the bonds of normal men, or any other race for that matter. An elf would have had to go far outside the law to lose this reverence.
* * * *
The small council was finished and set to move forward at last. Aerinas and Aeligon descended the great stairs together for the first time since the healing at the house many weeks before.
"How is that wound of yours?” asked Aeligon.
Aerinas rubbed it with his hand and replied, “Getting better I think. It is not aching like it was even a few days ago."
"Good."
In his mind, Aeligon knew that the wound would take a long time to heal. The poison swimming in the wolf's saliva was of horrible potency, and well beyond any wizard-born antidote. It would not have been that way had the dark powers steered clear of the beasts of the world, upon whom their evil deeds and spells were cast to create the hideous minions of their cause. This saddened the great wizard and was the reason he placed his home inside Mernith forest, where he could care for the trees and the remaining unspoiled creations.
"What is wrong, Aeligon?” asked Aerinas, who took to noticing the wizard's distraction.
"Nothing ... nothing at all."
The two walked along the forest floor, not talking much about the dealings they were undertaking the next day. They came upon the Grove of Souls, to which they each gave their respects, and stood long gazing upon the headstones of the fallen. The beautiful aura that surrounded the place was something to behold that night, when the resting souls seemed to come alive and smile upon the two great ones standing in their midst. The spirits of the dead, when rested, knew the very thoughts of the living and could approve or disapprove. These spirits looked with revelry at the pair, whispering words of wisdom and encouragement into their ears. Aeligon and Aerinas stood there, taking in the attention of the ghosts.
Suddenly, a mist swirled and curled around in front of them, took the shape of a being, and remained suspended in the air.
Aerinas grabbed Aeligon tightly on his forearm. “I am afraid, Aeligon,” he whispered, voice shaking.
"Do not be afraid,” Aeligon whispered back. “It is safe.” Aeligon turned out to be right. One of the spirits of a fallen elf of long ago manifested before them in the misty crystals hanging in the air. Its mouth never moved, yet it spoke aloud to them, binding their eyes to it as the melodic tones gushed from its thoughts.
"Aerinas ... Aeligon,” it said to them in a hypnotic, whispering voice. “Step nearer to me now."
They stepped closer, yet did not speak. They only wished to obey, for it was said that a visit by a spirit-world apparition meant either doom or fortune. A sense of fear boiled in Aerinas’ heart when they drew nearer to the ghost. Aeligon never faltered.
"Do not be afraid, Aerinas, son of Tristandor. You have more than such as I to fear in this world,” said the phantom as it smiled at the elf.
Aerinas stood up straighter, and cleared his throat. Still, he did not speak. The phantom turned to Aeligon, and continued, “I came to offer something to you, Aeligon, Great Healer of Vaalüna, leader of the Order of Light. The spirits of the dead roam these lands seeking rest. Their screams can be heard whipping through the plains, and echoing between mountains. The power of the ones who never rest is great, for their curse is to walk the spectral Planes until rest is found. They cross boundaries, and can break barriers set before them with greater ease than those of us who have found peace. I offer to you this talisman...” The specter held out its icy hand to the wizard; a charm hung on the end of a chain looped over a finger. It sparkled as Aeligon took it, bowing in return. “This is Phantom Dawn, Talisman of the Shadow Plane. I impart it to you, Conjurer of Spirit,” concluded the specter; the mist parted, the face dwindling from their view.
Aerinas was astonished, and Aeligon stood in silence as he looked upon his gift.
"Phantom Dawn ... Phantom Dawn,” he said over and over again. “I have heard of this amulet, Aerinas. This is said to grant great power to the wielder, a power that can shatter the barriers of Planes beyond the scope of our own here. This is a gift among gifts, and one that I will carry with pride.” Aeligon held it up, the red crystal in the center of the gold disk glowing with increased radiance, and placed it around his neck.
* * * *
Night and its silence settled upon the city and its Grove. Everyone retired to their homes, tired from the activities of the day. Even the warriors, who were about to embark on their long journey, took the opportunity to get one more night's rest in the comfort of their great city. Aeligon, too, took rest again with Pux in the House of Lythardia. Tristandor spent what he thought might have been his last night with Nimoni, his wife of a great many years. They held long talks of Aerinas, who was soundly asleep in his bed, a good distance away south. Many tears were shed by Nimoni at the thought of his possible death or worse, enslavement by the savage molester infesting the Plane of Vaalüna.
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Chapter 6—Forest of Spirits
The wind picked up that night, casting its bitter freeze through Mynandrias. Aerinas pulled his covers over him as he slept, aware subconsciously of the cold breath of winter. He shivered under his layers of blankets, drifting in and out of sleep. His mind was restless again, much as it had been the night of the dream when Krüna came to him.
Then, he could see his body. He was outside of it, and looking at it from above. It was pale, like death had taken residence where warm blood once flowed to make it suffused with life. His eyes were closed. Suddenly, as he gazed upon his own form, the eyes opened and flames burst forth with a great laughter bellowing from the open mouth. Aerinas tried to turn his gaze from himself, but could not. He felt something grab him from behind, covering his mouth so he could not scream. Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped, and the fire receded back into the sockets. The ‘something’ that had covered his mouth was gone. He turned to see what was behind him, and there she was!
Krüna had come to him at last! After all the longing to see her again, there she stood, adorned in all the splendor he had imagined. Her fiery hair writhed about like snakes caught in some ritual dance and her hands, those beautiful hands, were outstretched to him. She smiled, and walked closer to the elf. The space around them was black and empty, or perhaps he was so spellbound by her that he did not notice any other feature of the surroundings. He did not care, for she was there and more beautiful than he had remembered.
"Krüna,” he said. “You have come to me again. Please tell me that I am not dreaming. Tell me that you are real, and are here with me to stay."
"I am sorry, Aerinas, for that I am not. I am here to guide you and to w
arn you."
"But, I cannot be warned or guided beyond that which I already am. There is a party arranged now to depart when the sun is ripe tomorrow. We
* * * *
* * * *
go to find the wretch Haarath, and to try and learn of this evil that is seeking to destroy Vaalüna."
"This evil is far more dangerous than you can imagine, Aerinas. Your lack of faith in yourself is bringing you to your knees. I have come to warn you, not of this evil, but of your own fear. The fear of becoming the leader of your people and the fear of your father will cause you much trouble unless you face it now. Face it while you have time."
"I am going with my father to help destroy this menace ... what more do you ask of me?"
"I only ask that you have faith in your ability to lead, which will be your power in dark times. You have the will of ten thousand great warriors, yet your fear of facing your destiny diminishes you."
"I do not ask for this leadership. My father is holder of the throne. Who am I to think of taking his place?"
"A time will come one day when you will be tested, Aerinas. When all hope has failed, you will be asked to rise to meet the challenge of facing your fear, of facing yourself. You need to be ready."
"What do all of these riddles mean?” yelled Aerinas with attitude. “I did not ask for this task, yet I faced it willingly. What more am I required to do? I have faced my fate, and have longed for this quest. It is here, and I do not desire to go back."
"You will be asked a great deal more in due time. You need to be prepared."
"You have told me nothing about who you are, or how you are visiting me in my own thoughts, invading my dreams. I found out where you reside, Krüna. Niconüin, Seer of All in Fenduin Lake, you are due east of my city. Dispense with the riddles and tell me what you truly want."
Aerinas grew cross with his golden beauty, yet he felt that he had to. He must have answers.
"We have a vested interest in your success in this matter, since you are the Chosen One. You are to bring the Realm out of darkness, much as your father did in ages past. You must succeed, or this world will fall."
"Can you not answer questions for me, Krüna? What of the Enath-Hüdain? I need to know what you are—tell me!"
* * * *
Krüna did not answer him, but faded into the blackness slowly with Aerinas still standing there, calling out to her. She felt deceiving as she left him there, but she had to do this thing to allow him to find the path—or hope to find.
* * * *
Aerinas awoke the next morning without the cold sweat on his body, yet with the same heavy mind full of unanswered questions. Her beauty was clouded by the notion that she was toying with him, twisting his thoughts for a fell purpose. He sat up, clutched his hair in his hands, and let out a heavy sigh. I must find her. I must find her before my destiny is decided, he thought. He stood, threw on his garments and fled to find his father before the party departed.
* * * *
Aerinas found his father and mother sitting on their bed talking quietly together, hands clasped together. Tristandor stood as Aerinas broke their discussion.
"What is it? You have a troubled face this morning. The fear of our journey has claimed you?"
"No, father, it has not. I have decided to break from the party."
Tristandor approached him slowly, raising his eyebrow as he moved across the floor. His mind was teeming with reasons why his son would abandon the group before it even set out.
"And what reason will you give for this?"
"I must seek out my own path, and a path lies before me that I cannot chance to miss. I will travel to Fenduin Lake to find what I seek. I can send word, and rejoin you and the others when my task is complete. I did not come to ask blessing, only to let you know of my plans."
"A course has already been set, Aerinas. I do not appreciate this sudden rash decision to abandon our company in search of something that will not aid our cause."
"For someone who delves so deeply into the realm of the unknown fate that steers our course, how is it that you have come to the conclusion that what I seek is of little value to our cause?” Aerinas’ face bore the anger of a thunderous storm brewing to take up issue with a peaceful sky.
Tristandor answered, “Because, I feel that my moves recently have been guided by the unseen hand of fate in this matter. I think your role will be best played out with us."
"I am not a child anymore, Father, and I do not fathom the reasons behind you keeping me caged up like an animal, but it ends here. I am going to Fenduin Lake with or without you. I believe that something has been calling to me that I cannot ignore, something that you cannot control or take away. If that bears the consequence of going without your blessing, so be it.” Aerinas’ position was like a castle built upon the rocks, unmoving, never failing.
"Very well,” Tristandor agreed, “It seems that your mind is made up. I will not stand in the way of your choice. I will take the others, and begin the road to Gudred. You know the path we will take. When your task is complete, seek us out there. Make haste with your business, for you will be needed if Haarath and his minions are found."
"I understand, Father, and I will not linger needlessly,” said Aerinas. He turned to his mother, who had taken to looking at him with wonder and curiosity, and bowed. He fled out of the door and back to his own abode, where he packed the things he would need.
He stuffed a leather satchel with some food, including dried fruit, meats, and breadcakes. He donned his brown, linen tunic with the repaired right sleeve. Over this, he strapped his quiver across his back. The leather bonds hugged his chest tightly. A leather satchel was secured to his waist. From a large, wooden chest he drew his sword. It was a one-handed sword, slender and sharp, with a leather-bound hilt. The gleam of the blade reflected all angles of the sun's rays, happy to be in service again. Aerinas slid it into the sheath, which was built into the underside of the quiver at an angle so that the hilt did not stick up above his head. He also fetched a bundle of his finest arrows, the same ones he had with him when he went to Merchindale. The tips were washed clean of the wolf's blood. Tristandor's amazing handiwork was wrought in them, and he felt oddly proud of his father right then. His long, silvery hair was brushed back. He braided the sideburns, and in them tied black beads used to keep the hair from tangling or sweeping across his face during battle. Once he was ready he descended the stairs to the lowest causeway, crossed the bridge connecting two large trees, and finally stepped onto the forest floor. He made for the East Gate, reaching it when the sun was just starting to peek over the line of the horizon. The gate was opened, and he set out on his journey toward Lake Fenduin. His first task would be to conquer the great Tunin River.
* * * *
The Great Hall of Lythardia was silent when Aeligon awoke. No elves were scurrying about preparing for a council. No more council was needed, at least no more than necessary to keep the city breathing. He rose, let out a great yawn, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the clear light of the new day. Once he was satisfied with his lazy awakening, he rose and went out into the Hall. Pux was with him, though he was quiet. The wizard took him everywhere, more to keep his eyes on him than anything else.
Once Aeligon climbed the stairs leading out of the House, he suddenly realized the severity of the quest before him. Far to the east, despite the full face of the sun shining down on Mynandrias, darkness swept over the skies. His experienced eyes strained hard to see what approached from the horizon. No details could be defined at that distance, but he knew that there was nothing contained therein for any good purpose. He tightened his grip on his staff, and made his way to the house of Tristandor.
When he arrived, he found the Elf-Lord kissing his wife on the cheek, then the forehead. A sack made of the finest linen was stuffed full of provisions, a sword propped against the foot of the bed, and a cloak thrown about his shoulders. Tristandor gave one last look upon Nimoni. A tear burned a path down her cheek, wher
e his lips had just pulled. Even in her strength, she had fear for her family in times of danger. He whispered something to her about promising to return, and then gathered up his items and met Aeligon outside the door.
"Shall we go?” Tristandor asked.
"I feel that something is amiss here,” said Aeligon.
"Your heart tells you correctly, Aeligon. I let Aerinas go."
Aeligon simply nodded, almost as if he already knew.
"He came to me last night, told me that he was setting out on his own, and I let him go. He said he was going to Lake Fenduin to find answers to questions that had come to him recently."
"Tristandor, the Enath-Hüdain reign supreme in that region. Did you not know of this?"
"Of course I know, but I am not going to stand in the way of his fate, Aeligon. I cannot. I have tried in vain too long to keep his spirit boarded up in the confines of our peaceful city, but something strains the fiber of our way of life, its evil pulling out the rug from under us."
Aeligon lowered his head, sighing deeply. “Very well, we will continue on as planned then?"
"Yes, we leave immediately for the land of Fornidain to the west,” said Tristandor. “We seek out the refuge of Farrin's Giants, if they still inhabit those mountains. Many towns and villages of men have sprung up around the suspected place. We must tread carefully. It will be a few weeks until we reach the threshold of the mountains. We will have much time to prepare. Come."
Tristandor moved past Aeligon, who was staring at nothing while his mind cycled through vision after vision.
"Aeligon!” shouted Pux. “Let's go before he leaves without us."
"Silence, Pux,” said Aeligon crossly. “You do not know what peril young Aerinas rides to, or what it is doing to his father and mother."
* * * *
Chronicles of the Planeswalkers Page 12
