The Awakening

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “Orcs and trolls,” Preston said, his voice tinged with loathing.

  “And humans…” Elion commented, “…all in one group.”

  “She is the leader,” the dwarf said, as they watched the dark haired one give instructions to the others.

  “I am frightened, Tomas,” Steph whispered to him.

  He clasped his right hand over hers and the tension she felt disappeared at once.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of here, Steph. Just stay out of sight for a while longer,” he said, calming her.

  The words of the intruders were hard to distinguish. The noises sounded like they were being uttered from behind some kind of invisible wall that muffled them. They watched as the regal woman who had entered the area first, dismounted and stood facing her companion. She dropped what looked like a short sword or long dagger onto the ground before her, surrendering it to someone whose features they could not clearly discern. The Knight too got down from his steed and tenderly lifted the prone body that he brought with him off of his horse’s withers. He carefully laid it upon the soft ground and stood protectively in front of it, but then both he and the first woman to enter looked around them with bewildered expressions upon their faces, as if they were terribly confused suddenly and they could no longer understand where they were.

  The pursuer gave some kind of instructions to her soldiers before stepping out of the woods herself and then through the opening onto the grass. The moment her booted feet touched the ground beyond the line of bushes, her face went deathly pale. She staggered slightly and her eyes looked upward, the whites clearly visible, as if she was fighting to remain conscious. For a fleeting second, an expression of calm crossed her face, and it even seemed as if her features were being illuminated by a light from above. But as quickly as it overcame her, it was gone, replaced by a grimace of violent hatred that was almost painful to gaze upon. She raised her hands protectively before her.

  “It is a trap,” she yelled bitingly to her troops, but they could not hear her any more, stranded as they were behind the opaque barrier which seemed to solidify somewhat after she passed through it.

  Preston and Elion heard a voice they did not recognize that seemed to emanate from within their own heads. They looked upon each other with expressions of awe, confirming that they both heard the same thing.

  She is beyond hope. Her essence is already corrupted so totally that I cannot help her.

  The woman looked like a snared animal with her head darting left and right, and her black eyes searching everywhere for a means of escape. When she realized that she was alone and that the others could not reach her, she turned to her apparent prey.

  “These tricks will not save you,” she said, and she leveled her left palm skyward with her arm outstretched.

  Try as she might, she could produce no fire in her hand, no weapon she could hurl at her adversaries, nor any dark and evil conflagration with which she could strike them down.

  The Knight stepped forward, shielding both of the women he entered the area with from whatever might be cast upon them by their attacker, while the woman standing by his side moved to cover the prone body of the other one with her cape.

  They stood there like animals, poised for the attack, waiting tensely for the first strike.

  Do not attempt that again in my presence—a voice boomed out from all directions at once, filling their heads with the sound.

  The dark haired woman cowered before it and began to look frantically around for its source. She backed up as far as she could, but when she touched the perimeter of the barrier through which she had recently entered, sparks flew up around her, startling her. She stepped forward quickly and crouched low to the ground. Her human features seemed to fade and become less distinct, the more frightened she became.

  Meanwhile, the Knight of Avalain and the Lady surrounded their prostrate friend in an effort to protect her, yet it was clear by the expressions upon both their faces that they were no longer frightened. They too looked all around, searching for the source of the voice that had addressed their adversary, but their countenances were hopeful.

  Twice your evil plans have been thwarted. Near Parth you failed, and now here. When thrice you fail, he will forsake you—the words echoed in their minds for them all to hear.

  Elion was standing and staring at the first woman who had entered the glen. His expression was one of tenderness, as if he had seen a long lost friend. Preston sidled up to him and the elf nudged him with his arm.

  “She looks remarkably like Filaree. Could it be her mother, the Queen?” he asked the dwarf.

  “Now that you mention it, I see the resemblance too. But what would she be doing out here in the woods, so far from Avalain?” he questioned.

  “Only the First knows. But they are too much alike in their features and mannerisms for it to be mere coincidence,” Elion replied.

  Tomas suddenly appeared beside his two friends, with Stephanie still holding onto his arm, as if he had been there all along.

  “We arrived at just the right moment,” he whispered.

  “Lucky for them,” Preston said, pointing to the three who were being pursued.

  “Do you view everything as mere chance?” Tomas said to his comrade smiling. “Rather, if fortuity be a part of this episode at all, lucky for us. Ormachon would have dealt with the Dark Lord’s messenger whether we were here or not,” Tomas commented. “What is our good fortune will be her bane. She will be the messenger who brings the news to Colton of my existence,” Tomas said as if he knew this was going to happen.

  Three pair of eyes quickly focused upon him, each with questioning looks emanating outward.

  “Who is it that speaks to me so?” the evil woman said, having garnered her courage once again. She stood erect and her beady eyes darted from left to right.

  Have you not guessed already? the voice bellowed.

  “There are none of the accursed trees in this part of the countryside. You try to deceive me with your games. It will not work,” she boasted. “Besides, all the trees are doomed anyway. They die even as we speak,” Margot spat the words.

  Deceive? It is you who are deceived. You have much to learn, the Lalas said calmly. I live only amid truths. Tell your master that we die because we choose to, not because he wills it so. Our deaths preserve life. Surely he knows that by now.

  Margot shook her head, as if to rid it of the words she was hearing.

  “My Lord will see you all disappear from the face of the earth, one way or another,” she spat again.

  Your Lord has much to discover first—Ormachon’s words roared in their minds.

  Tomas stepped out from behind the veil of branches and walked toward Queen Esta and Parsifal. Stephanie gasped and put her hand over her mouth, concerned that he was exposing himself so. Margot stepped backward hastily as he seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and she assumed the defensive stance of a cornered animal.

  Tomas was so beautiful and so innocent looking. He was completely relaxed as he approached the others. They stood mesmerized and simply stared at him as if he were a chimera, as in fact it must have seemed to Margot.

  When he reached their sides, he bowed his head momentarily. Raising it once again, he spoke in his serene and soothing voice.

  “I am Tomas, brother to Davmiran, heir to the crown of Gwendolen,” he said calmly.

  By the way he spoke the words, it was unclear whether he referred to himself as the heir, or to his brother. The ambiguity did not fall upon deaf ears.

  “Let the Dark Lord know that the fabric weaves around him, despite what he may believe. My brother is ready to assume his role,” he continued. “The quest has begun,” Tomas proclaimed.

  Elion and Preston joined him in the clearing at that point, and Stephanie walked determinedly up to the woman lying upon the ground to see if there was anything she could do to help her. Her fear had departed as quickly as it came. Margot remained hunched over and cautious with her back practical
ly up against the barrier in her effort to stay as far away from the others as possible. She watched the boy carefully, untrusting.

  “Your brother will soon be dead, if a brother he is at all,” she hissed under her breath. “As we speak, my Lord attacks Seramour,” she declared. “They will not survive his wrath.”

  Tomas closed his eyes and tilted his head backward somewhat, as if he was trying to listen to something very faint and far away. When he reopened them, they were sharp and focused. He stared at Margot, catching her in his gaze, and try as she might, she could not look away from him.

  “My brother will not die there. You are mistaken,” he said, impassive and assured. “He has much to do before death overtakes him,” he smiled.

  Tomas motioned to both Elion and Preston to stand by his side. When the three friends were standing abreast, he raised his arms and embraced them.

  “Do you know the prophesies?” he asked Margot.

  She shook her head slowly back and forth, indicating that she was unaware of what he referred to. The look of disdain upon her face was glaring.

  “You would be well served to study the Tomes. So much can be learned from them. Remind him that what was one has become two,” Tomas said, still smiling. “He will perceive the meaning. Your Lord believes that the end is near. He tries what he can to hasten it, and he convinces others that what he desires they should crave as well. He is a master of deception,”

  Tomas looked up at Ormachon momentarily before continuing. When his gaze returned to capture Margot once again in its field, he spoke even more quietly and more assuredly than before.

  “He is wrong. Pay heed woman, the end is not nigh. It is now merely the beginning,” he whispered and he turned his head away from her. “You have chosen your allegiances poorly. May the First have mercy upon you,” he concluded sadly.

  At that point, Tomas reversed his position, left the fear-stricken woman staring disconsolately at his back, and with his friends by his side, went to speak with Queen Esta and Parsifal as if Margot were no longer there. She crouched in the corner, aghast at the fact that they ceased to pay any attention to her, as if she was of no consequence whatsoever. Tomas’ words echoed in her mind, and a chill passed over her body as they repeated themselves. Frustrated and frightened like never before, she slowly stood up and looked around her for a route through which she could escape while she had the opportunity.

  As her beady eyes scanned the perimeter of this prison of green, everything grew oddly quiet around her. The others ceased their movement completely, frozen in their strides. After a moment, Margot carefully stood up and approached Tomas with caution. He did not move, nor did he recognize her presence. She walked around him as if he was not really there. The others too stood transfixed, without even blinking, no breath filled their chests and their eyes stared blankly ahead. She thought she saw the bushes separate all by themselves, and she then saw a large branch gently bring itself down to the ground before her. She backed up hastily, fearful of its touch. At first, she thought she was the one who had been left behind, stranded out of time by the Lalas, but then she heard a voice address her while the others remained still and silent. It seemed to speak to her from inside her head as before, and she recoiled at the encounter, retreating wildly into the wall of bushes behind her while searching for a means of escape.

  This is of my doing. They cannot hear us any longer. There are things you must know, the voice said solemnly.

  “Are you going to kill me now?” she asked, certain that her time was up and not really listening to the words that were said to her.

  Kill you? it asked, confused. I have no need to kill you. But you must listen carefully.

  Margot looked skeptically upon the tree before her, untrusting and frightened. She was physically repulsed by the voice and she grew nauseous and lightheaded.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked.

  We are of two different kinds, it spoke sadly. But you are necessary, as are they, the voice continued in a serious tone. You failed to stop the Sister from Parth. She leaves now with the map.

  “Why are you telling me this? It cannot be true. You would not help me,” she replied, shocked and frightened by the encounter.

  Help? I only give you information. What you do with it is not up to me.

  “But why would you even tell me this? I cannot trust you,” she said, holding her hands tightly against her ears, as if to muffle the words themselves.

  We do not always do what is expected of us, Ormachon replied somberly.

  “And what does that mean? You speak in riddles I cannot understand. Let me go,” she implored him.

  My meaning is clear. I do not deceive you. Use what I told you to redeem yourself, the Lalas said. Bring the news to your master. He will appreciate you for it, despite your other failures.

  The mention of her previous attempts at carrying out Colton’s demands reminded her of how little she had to show for her past efforts. Surely, the Dark Lord was not going to be happy with her. Perhaps she could use this information, even if it was not entirely true, to curry his favor once again.

  “Why would you want to help me?” she asked Ormachon one more time.

  The fabric weaves of its own will. I am a Lalas, and my race is dying. You cannot see the world from my perspective. You do not know what death means to us. Take what I offer you and be on your way, the voice bellowed inside her head with finality.

  Margot returned with a start to the position she had been in moments before, crouched at the far end of the clearing with her back against the bushes. The others began to walk and talk as if they had never paused, totally unaware that anything had occurred whilst they stood, transfixed, out of time. Only the one named Tomas turned his head and caught her eyes for a brief instant. She cringed at the contact and turned her gaze away from his as quickly as she could. His perception seemed to penetrate her very being and it left her feeling confused and contravened. She could now see the trees outside of the clearing, and she also thought she could hear voices shouting at her from beyond the confines of this fearsome space. Anxious to be as far away from these people as quickly as possible and recognizing the opportunity to escape, she slipped out through the portal and disappeared into the darkening woods.

  Tomas rushed toward Esta and Stephanie beside Marne’s prostrate body. He had a strange look in his eyes and he glanced backward at Ormachon, then shook his head as if he was trying to clear it of something. He was frowning slightly and he was very distracted.

  “She is barely breathing,” Stephanie said, her ear close against Marne’s chest. “The skin around the wound is discolored. How long has she been unconscious?” she asked the Queen.

  “Since minutes after she was struck,” Esta replied, kneeling next to Stephanie and beside her afflicted friend. “Perhaps a half an hour. The barb was poisoned,” she said dolefully.

  “There is little I can do for her. The venom has permeated her blood,” the maiden said, holding her hand tenderly. “I fear she has only precious moments left,” Stephanie sighed.

  Queen Esta turned her majestic head to the side and covered it momentarily with her slender hand. She bowed it slightly and closed her eyes.

  “She does not seem to suffer,” she said, looking upon her friend once again.

  She smoothed the matted and damp hair off of her forehead and ran her fingers fondly down the dying woman’s cheek.

  Marne opened her eyes for a mere instant. She stared blankly upward until her eyes found the Queen’s face. A tender smile crossed her parched lips, and with tremendous effort, her weakened hand grasped the Queen’s. Her mouth moved in an attempt to form words.

  “Do not exert yourself, my dear friend,” Esta whispered in her ear. “I am here.”

  Marne’s tired eyes softened at the words, and the pain seemed to have left them, though she did not cease her effort to speak. Her tongue was parched, and Stephanie dipped her kerchief in a goatskin of fresh water and dabbed her lips carefull
y.

  “I am sorry,” she finally murmured, struggling to speak.

  “Hush, now. You have nothing to be sorry for. I am safe, as you can see,” the Queen said with her mouth close to Marne’s ear. “You are my dearest friend. All that you do, you do for me. Your loyalty has been my strength all these tiels,” she averred with love.

  Marne smiled again, though it pained her to do so, and she clasped the Queen’s hand a tiny bit harder.

  “Filaree is safe, I know it,” she sighed painfully.

  “She will know what a true friend you have been to me, and to Avalain,” Esta murmured in her ear.

  Esta drew a deep breath and leaned over to place a tender kiss upon her friend’s cheek, as a lone tear slowly left its trail down her ashen face. Marne’s hand went limp in her own and the muscles in her face relaxed, though a sweet smile remained drawn upon her pale lips. The Queen ran her fingers over the maiden’s eyes, and gently closed out the light of day forevermore. She lingered there a moment longer and stared at Marne’s frozen features. Then she gathered up her skirts and rose to face the others.

  They were all standing nearby, hushed and solemn. They looked upon the Queen; each pair of their eyes was soft with sorrow. Not a sound could be heard. Tomas was the first to move, and he walked up to Esta and took her arm in his own. An uneasy look was still upon his face, though the circumstances surely warranted his concern anyway, and no one thought it odd.

  “Come,” he said. “I will show you the wonderful place where my aunt and uncle lay. If you wish, we can bury her alongside them,” he offered, glancing backward at the Lalas once again with a strange and troubled look in his eye.

  Esta stared hard at this unusual boy and immediately felt a rush of understanding and familiarity overtake her, despite her sorrow at Marne’s death. She could feel his compassion, and she trusted him immediately and implicitly, though she too sensed that more than her friend’s death was bothering him.

  “Yes, I would like to see it,” she answered, stricken by his innocence, yet perceiving his unusual strength as well. Together they walked toward the path that led to the ruins of Tomas’ former home. Once they had left the group, she turned to him. “Are we still in danger here?” she asked.