The Awakening

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “By the First, the air is damp,” she remarked furrowing her brow.concerned.

  “And warm,” Giles added. “I thought it was me.”

  “No, it is not. The air is decidedly warm. Everything around here is melting,” Alemar observed. “We had best find Clovis as quickly as we can,” she said, her fears beginning to mount, having not heard his voice shout out yet.

  Together they walked back toward the mountainside, searching for their friend. If Giles was correct, Clovis would have landed much closer to the slope than they had. Climbing the hill was difficult with the snow as wet as it was, and their legs grew tired and cramped quickly.

  “This is not easy,” Giles remarked.

  “He must be around here somewhere,” Alemar commented, scanning the terrain. “I cannot believe how much everything has melted in the short while we were in the Caves of Carloman,” she commented. And then the alarming thought occurred to her that the lake below had probably thawed as well, and thereby released the spirits trapped beneath it. “Where can Clovis be?” she said uneasily.

  The water was cascading down the mountainside, creating fissures and rivulets and seeping into the ground, easily splitting the once hardened bedrock of ice below the soft snow surface. The air was so thick with moisture that it was hard to breathe.

  “I think I see him,” Giles yelled. “Quickly. It is Clovis,” he signaled, and he was running as fast as he could through the quagmire of slush and frozen water.

  Alemar overtook her companion, being lighter of foot, and she reached Clovis’ motionless body before Giles did. She bent to his aid immediately, trying to assess how badly he was wounded by his precarious fall. He was not conscious, but his breath was steady and strong. All of his limbs were pointing in the right directions, and despite numerous cuts and bruises, he appeared to be in one piece.

  “He must have hit his head on those ice blocks over there,” Giles said, as he reached her side. “Can you tell if he is alright?”

  “He seems to be, even though he was knocked out by the fall. I do not think anything is broken,” she said, carefully feeling for injuries. “He has quite a bump on the back of his head,” she discovered, cradling it gently in her hands. She ripped a piece of cloth off of the bottom of her jacket, and then placed a smooth piece of ice inside it. Wrapping it neatly, she held it against the wound. With her free hand, she gathered up some wet snow and rubbed it on her friend’s cheeks and forehead. Wearily, Clovis opened his eyes.

  “Oh, that hurts,” he said quietly, squinting tightly from the pain. “What happened?” he asked, trying to move and wincing from the effort.

  “You landed badly, my friend,” Giles responded, relieved that his injuries appeared to be superficial.

  “I certainly did,” he replied, grimacing.

  “You were very fortunate that you touched down where you did. You could have hit those rocks over there,” Alemar said, pointing a few yards away at an outcropping of stone that was fully exposed by the rushing water.

  “What a mess,” he said as he looked around and tried to sit up.

  “I think you had better take your time. You have a nasty bump on the back of your head. Let the ice bring down the swelling before you attempt to stand,” Alemar admonished him.

  “By the looks of it, I do not think we have too much time to waste,” he rejoined.

  As soon as Clovis was able to, he rose to his feet assisted by Giles and Alemar. He appeared to be strong enough to walk on his own, and they were all eager to be moving along.

  “Are we anywhere near where we left the horses?” Giles asked. “The air’s so thick with mist, I can hardly tell where I am.”

  “I doubt it. I really do not recognize anything. But that could be because so much snow has melted. The landscape is quite different now than it was before. Besides, it is almost impossible to see more than a few yards ahead,” Alemar commented. “Do you see how the fog gathers just above the ground? The snow is melting quickly.”

  “My horse will come to me if he hears my whistle,” Clovis said, and he put his fingers to his mouth. He blew a loud, high pitched note, and then immediately scowled in pain. “Ouch,” he said, reaching for the bump on the back of his head.

  In a matter of minutes, they could hear the distinct sound of a horse’s hooves clapping across the rocks and ice.

  “I told you he would come if he was in hearing distance,” Clovis said proudly.

  Soon, not one, but all three of their steeds found their way back to them, no worse for wear after having roamed the hills on their own for the past number of days.

  “How long do you think we were in the Caves anyway?” Giles asked.

  “Two days perhaps. Three at most,” Alemar answered, grabbing Shira tenderly by her mane, as the bridle and reins were no where to be found.

  “It is extraordinary how much the terrain has changed in such a short time. I wonder what is going on in Eleutheria,” he said, giving voice to the concern that was on all of their minds.

  “We will have to contend with what we find on the Pass of the Righteous first,” the Princess declared, climbing onto the back of her horse. “Have you forgotten already what we encountered on our way to the Caves?” she asked.

  “How could we have? The images of those poor soldiers trapped beneath the ice has not left me for a moment. But, if they were released from beneath the ice already, do you think they will still be there?” Clovis asked.

  “Maybe not. I imagine that they will have no sense of how much time has passed. Besides, Iscaron does not know the fate of Alicea, his daughter,” she said. “Perhaps he will continue on his quest and head for the caves. Or more likely, he will lead the army back to Eleutheria, thinking her already dead.”

  “If they head for the caves, they will not get very far,” Giles commented, reminding them all of what they just left behind. “There will be no way to enter the mountain by now, and the great cavern is probably no more than a mound of fallen stones,” he said.

  The image of the gentle Seedkeepers flickered in Alemar’s mind, standing together, hand in hand, watching their world come to an end. She was saddened by it, yet she knew in her heart that their lives were fulfilled when they turned over the seeds to her. She reached instinctively once again for the pouch at her belt and felt it warm in her hand.

  “We will soon find out,” Alemar said. “There is no other way for us to return to Eleutheria. If we cannot cross the Pass, we will be stranded here. And by the looks of things, we will shortly be swimming rather than walking,” she replied, looking all around.

  “By the First, it is getting hot,” Clovis remarked after scrambling into his saddle. The perspiration was already beading up on his forehead.

  “Follow me,” Alemar said. “If we track the path of the running water, we will surely reach the Pass of the Righteous. It was the lowest point on this side of the mountain, and everything should flow to it eventually.”

  The three elves carefully navigated the hills and gullies, winding their way down the side of the cliff. The air grew warmer and the rush of water increased with each step that they took.

  “I think I recognize this area,” Giles remarked, looking back at the rocks behind him. “We cannot have much further to go,” he said. “The terrain is starting to flatten out.”

  They walked carefully down, leading their horses away from the gathering pools of liquid. Had it not been for the thick mist created by the melting snow, they would have been able to see more clearly ahead. As it was, their vision was limited to no more than six or eight feet in any one direction. Alemar led Shira down a winding pathway and around the outcropping of a large rock that must have previously been completely obscured by snow.

  As soon as she cleared the stone obstruction, an incredible scene revealed itself before them. The former Pass of the Righteous, once flat and frozen, had been transformed into an enormous sea of blue liquid, now churning and frothing before them. Great chunks of ice continued to fall from the sur
rounding cliffs, crashing into the deep azure water and sending geysers of freezing spray in all directions. Stretched out in front of them, a ribbon-like arch spanned the seething expanse, perhaps six feet wide at the most, beginning just below where they now stood and continuing on until their eyes lost it in the distant fog. The frozen wasteland had melted away around it leaving only this narrow bridge of ice, that glistened and sparkled in the fractured sunlight. Giant droplets of water dripped from its bottom into the sea below, as the warm air continued to wreak its havoc upon all that still remained frozen.

  The three travelers stood abreast of one another, on the very edge of the precipice, staring with disbelief at the only remaining pathway ahead.

  “If not for this, we would be marooned here,” Alemar said, staring wide-eyed at their only means of escape.

  “Are we really going to have to walk across it?” Giles asked the others.

  “Unless you would rather swim, I see no other alternative,” Clovis replied, shifting uneasily in his saddle.

  “Look down, my friends. I do not believe that swimming is an option,” Alemar remarked, pointing to the water below.

  The unsettled spirits of the army of Iscaron, trapped for countless tiels beneath the frozen water, had finally been released. The liquid below seethed with bodies, countless arms reached upward, as thousands of clamoring soldiers made their way to the shore. They bellowed and struggled, swimming and climbing over each other in their haste to reach the living creatures on the rocks above them.

  “If we do not cross here, they will be upon us very soon,” Clovis said, as they could clearly see that they were the reason for the hastened advance of the undead.

  Slowly and steadily the soldiers, with their faces white and mottled and their lips a frozen blue, swam toward Alemar and her friends. It would be only a matter of minutes before they reached the point just below where they presently stood.

  “Will the ice hold us?” Clovis asked, looking circumspectly at the seemingly delicate span.

  “What choice have we but to try?” Alemar replied, as she lead Shira carefully onto the bridge. “Follow me, but not too closely. We should spread our weight out somewhat,” she called back. “Lucky for us our horses are still shod. The spikes will help them to grip.”

  Clovis stepped up onto the promontory of ice next, and then he began to walk slowly and guardedly behind Alemar.

  “Do not wait too long,” he called back to Giles.

  “Have no fear on that account,” Giles replied, holding his horse back forcefully, just as the first of the ancient soldiers started to drag their dripping bodies, clothed in rusted armor and hung with debris from the sea, out onto the shoreline nearby.

  The bridge held their weight, and Alemar gained a bit more confidence as she walked further out.

  “It seems solid enough. But be careful, and do not look down,” she admonished her friends.

  “Alicea,” they heard a deep and anguished voice call out. “Alicea, my daughter. Do not leave me.”

  The spirit of Iscaron had raised himself out of the water and onto the rocks just before the ribbon of ice. Alemar turned her head backward and she saw him, forlorn and aggrieved, standing alone and tortured. His arms were outstretched and his face was etched with torment, as he called out to her. His breath as it left his blue lips, froze solid as he spoke, as if his very essence had turned to ice.

  “Hurry, Giles,” she yelled to her comrade.

  “Alicea,” the voice pleaded. “Beloved. Wait… please,” he implored.

  Alemar hesitated and turned her head so she could look behind her.

  “Keep going,” Giles urged. “Do not waver now. Close your ears, Alemar.”

  “My darling child. It is a miracle. You are alive. Do not leave me here alone again,” he beseeched her.

  As he walked, the ground froze solid beneath his treads. The mere touch of his body caused everything near it to harden.

  Her heart reached out to him, and she could ignore his pleas no longer. The Princess stopped in her tracks, pivoted Shira around carefully, practically forcing her onto her hind legs in order to navigate the narrow bridge, and then she deftly walked right past Clovis and past Giles until she was standing directly in front of the spirit of her ancient relative.

  “I am Alemar, daughter of Whitestar, King of Eleutheria. I am not your daughter,” she called to him.

  He reached out his hands which were hung with seaweed. His skin was decayed and rotting as it thawed in the hot air.

  “Alicea. I left you behind to die. I was trapped here by the Lord of Darkness. I could not return,” he cried. “How is it that you are alive? Are you a spirit too?” he asked, not listening.

  “I am not your daughter, Iscaron,” Alemar repeated. “But Alicea did not die because of you. She recovered from her illness. You did not forsake her,” Alemar yelled. “She forgave you for not returning. But she lived, Iscaron. She lived.”

  “You are not my daughter?” he asked confused. “But you know of her? She lived? My daughter lived?” he asked in disbelief. “Does she still?”

  “No, she is long dead now. But she lived a fruitful and glorious life, and she bore children, and they, too, had children. She became Queen of Eleutheria, the Ice Queen. I am Alemar, your great, great, great, great, granddaughter. I am evidence that she did not die.”

  Iscaron could not understand all that was being told to him, but a look of recognition was clear upon his face.

  “She lived,” he said to himself. “My beautiful Alicea lived. She did not die because I failed to return to her,” Iscaron said as if in a trance. He then turned his eyes upon Alemar once again. “How long have we been imprisoned here?”

  “One hundred tiels, at least,” Alemar said.

  “Had it not been for Caeltin D’Are Agenathea, I would have returned to see my daughter alive,” he said to himself, his enmity growing stronger by the second. “I have anguished here for so long. I have suffered unimaginable pain, and my soldiers have shared my suffering. I thought my daughter died because of me. I thought I killed my only child, my darling Alicea,” he cried.

  “She was a hero,” Alemar quickly spoke. “She was loved and revered by all of our race. I have always wanted to be just like her, ever since I was a little girl,” Alemar admitted, and she impulsively thrust her arm out toward him.

  “Do not touch me,” he warned. “Anything that touches my skin will freeze and die. Beware— We have become like the ice we lived beneath for so long,” he explained. Backing up a step so that he was not too near the others, he continued to speak. “What you tell me brings me great joy,” Iscaron said. “You have freed our bodies from this frozen tomb, and you have freed my soul from eternal anguish and despair, though we still carry the curse of Caeltin in our touch,” he said, bowing to Alemar.

  “It was not I who caused the ice to melt and released you,” Alemar avowed. “The very same one who imprisoned you has turned nature upside down around us. Caeltin has warmed the air and heated the soil beneath our foundations in order to destroy us and to destroy Eleutheria itself. He is the one who has inadvertently freed you from your prison,” Alemar confessed.

  “Ah, but it is you who has freed us from despair. Our prison was so much more than a mere physical one,” Iscaron said, bowing again. “We are in debt to you for now and for always, granddaughter, and to your two friends here as well,” he said, pointing to Giles and Clovis. “You have given us the knowledge, the lack of which has confined us to a prison of unbelievable torment and pain,” the King proclaimed. “You are my flesh and blood, and I will repay you. I swear to it!” he concluded, and then he turned his back on Alemar.

  Iscaron gathered his army around him, on the shores of the sea, at the base of the mountain, and he spoke to them in the ancient tongue. He bade them rise up from the chilly waters and march with him to Sedahar, to the city of their persecutor, the home of the Dark Lord.

  “Our spirits will find peace only when we avenge ourselves
upon the Evil One who caused us to suffer here, bereft of knowledge, far from our homes and loved ones, who imprisoned us under this accursed sea of ice! The same demon who seeks now to destroy our children’s children and our own ancient home,” he declared. “Follow me, soldiers of Eleutheria, so that our souls may rest at last! When our frozen hearts release themselves upon the heat of Sedahar, then and only then will we be free!”

  The warriors dragged themselves one by one from the sea and stood before their King. After they had all assembled, Iscaron turned once more toward Alemar, Clovis and Giles. His expression was one of sadness, and he bent his head before he spoke.

  “May we accompany you back to Eleutheria, Princess? May we see our beloved city once again before we depart forevermore?” he asked her.

  Without having to think, Alemar nodded.

  “I hope you know what you are doing, Princess,” Giles said in a hushed voice from behind her.

  Alemar rose up tall. “They will not harm anyone,” Alemar replied. “There is no evil amongst them.”

  She led Shira back up the icy bridge, and solemnly began to walk across it once again. Giles and Clovis followed behind, and the entire army, led by Iscaron, slowly made their way to the foot of the span. They began their procession behind the three brave elves, two abreast, an endless line of lost souls who had been found again, innocent prisoners who had finally been freed, woebegone soldiers who would soon suffer no more.

  Alemar looked back over the heads of her friends at the remarkable scene behind them. She reached for her belt once again, just to reassure herself that the pouch the Seedkeepers had entrusted her with was still there, secure and intact. She smiled when her fingers clasped it. Proudly she lifted her chin and proceeded to lead this unearthly procession of her long lost ancestors across the ribbon of ice and onward toward their precious home; toward Eleutheria.

  Chapter Forty-two