by AZ Kelvin
“What? Ye think his disciples did this?”
“Yes, they are trying to free him from under the ground and we are powerless to stop them!”
A deep rumbling began in the ground yet farther away, more from the center of the canyon of rubble that used to be the Great Marsh. Druids, Gwylari, and others gathered beside them, drawn by the horrific scene.
A dome began to form pushing aside rubble as it continued to grow. The familiar glow of flaura came into view when Fairtheora rose above the dome.
“Na’veyja lives!” someone yelled out.
“Blessed be the Goddess!” someone else said.
The dome exploded in an ear-shattering detonation. The force of the explosion threw tons of lava and volcanic debris to incredible heights before it came crashing back down to Arden.
The initial blast was like a whisper in a temple compared to the scream of Na’veyja’s despair as her power was broken and Fairtheora was ripped asunder. Her cry echoed to the horizon’s edge and back before falling silent.
“No!” Joseah cried out.
People around her fell to their knees; some cried and sobbed, others stared in disbelief.
Na’veyja? Joseah tried to commune with her goddess, but the familiar presence was gone.
A second eruption eclipsed the first in size and power. The blast reached them in seconds and knocked everyone to the ground. A pyroclastic cloud of hot particles and burning ash began to fill the newly formed gorge-sized depression.
The sun disappeared behind huge columns of smoke and ash billowing as high as the eye could see. Bombs of falling lava rained down as jets of molten rock shot into the black-as-night sky.
“Rise and flee!” Joseah had to yell to be heard over the din coming from the eruption. “Rise! Help those who cannot help themselves. Flee! Flee to the west!”
The survivors made it to the farm fields where another band of survivors gathered what goods they could in a wagon hitched to a horse.
Joseah brushed the accumulated ashes from the horse and found a cloth to tie over her head to protect the animal from the ashes.
“She’s the only one to survive,” the stable master said. A tear cleared a small path through the ashes of his cheek.
“Too many have perished today,” Joseah replied. “We will see that she does not. Has anyone seen Bekka or her family?”
“No, Primerey, those here are the only ones to come forth. The ground is ripped apart and we cannot get past to search. Maybe they got out another way.”
“Primerey, what do we do?” one of the survivors asked.
“We head for the crossroads and go in whatever direction the ash is not traveling. To the west! Everyone, as quickly as you can!”
The clouds of steam, ash, and smoke stretched far across the sky. Grey flakes fell from the clouds, covering the landscape with heavy and gritty volcanic ash.
“Cover yer mouths and noses,” Silari told the group as they prepared to leave. “Try nae ta look up, ye dinnae want this crud in yer eyes, and drink only from closed containers. Put yer children in the wagon and cover them with blankets and such. If there’re any who cannae walk, ’tis inta the wagon with ye. We need ta move quickly.”
The ragtag group began to move down the roadway as fast as they could if they were to escape the ashes falling from clouds that now stretched out as far as they could see. Many peered back once in a while as they left behind what had been home to the druids for generations.
“Primerey Joseah,” one of the children asked, “where has the flaura gone?”
“The ash has hidden it, child,” she said. “Now, you get back under that blanket, my dear.”
Joseah searched the woods for any sign of the flaura’s glow, but not a glimmer shone anywhere. Was Na’veyja one of those who perished in the tragic day’s events? She stopped and looked back when they reached the final curve in the road before the destruction was lost from sight.
“Silari, I must try.”
“Here? Now?” he asked. “What do ye expect ta see?”
She looked at the volcano that still belched out fire and ash. The clouds around it streaked with lightning. “I must know. Keep them moving. I will catch up.”
Silari motioned to two able-bodied druids. “Stay with her. If thin’s get any worse, ye’re ta drag her out by force, if necessary.”
Joseah settled into a seated position and focused on separating her spirit from her body. The chaos around her made it difficult. She focused inward and closed off the outside world.
Her spirit rose up and drifted toward the basin of roiling lava, ash, and smoke. Lava bubbles in the lake of molten rock burst in slow motion while blasts of steam sent smoldering ash particles swirling through heavy black smoke.
She reached the caldera at the center of the basin. There was no sign of either Fairtheora or of Na’veyja. There were only the destructive forces of nature that had been turned against them.
Joseah was about to call her spirit back when a strange motion caught her attention.
A mirage in the heat swirled above the pyroclastic lake of boiling rock and fire. The mirage moved out of the caldera and onto the land. The elements of the world were drawn inward from around it: the dirt, the fire, the air, the steam. The bones of a skeleton formed, organs clustered within, muscle tissue and tendons wove from joint to joint. Skin with the colors of ash and char covered the body as the being strode from the volcanic miasma. Eyes black as coal beheld the physical world once again. Acimasiz was free.
“No!” Joseah cried. The shock of seeing her nemesis for the first time in her life overwhelmed her. The ethereal spirit of her being was snapped back into her body as Joseah passed out in the physical realm.
~~~
Lord Praven needed no introduction when Acimasiz materialized in the provincial chamber of Teivas Keihas. He prostrated himself immediately before his god.
Get to your feet, Lord Praven, the voice of Acimasiz spoke to his mind. I do not seek worshippers.
Praven rose and beheld Acimasiz before him. The eyes were pools of black with no visible sclera or iris. His skin looked like black ink misted over with grey storm clouds.
Acimasiz studied a mural depicting a mythical battle between mages and dragons. He touched the image of a mage dressed in lightweight black armor and a mystic cloak, wielding both sword and magic. In the space of a blink, Acimasiz was dressed as the mage was in the mural. He pulled the hood of the mystic cloak up over his head.
You will forgive the intrusion, Acimasiz said.
Praven felt a power grip his spirit stronger than any he had ever known. “Ah!” he cried out when a piercing pain penetrated his mind. Images of Lord Nemilos, the disciples, and the plan to tunnel under the Great Marsh and unleash the magma chamber passed through his thoughts. The events of his life played out as well until the pain ceased and he fell to the floor.
Now I am up to speed.
Praven groaned, but the pain faded quickly and then was gone. He got to his feet and took a breath to compose himself.
She hides, Praven. After confining me for ages, she hides from me.
“How may I serve, Master?” Praven asked.
I wish to continue the hunt for my quarry, he replied. I can still feel her essence, but it is nearly spent. I need to regenerate my full powers in order to find her. I shall need sacrifices, Praven. Bring me the captive druids. I shall start with them.
*~*~*
Chapter Nineteen
The morning after Freyn’s ceremony, Quinlan and Grove Seven bustled around the stables seeing to their horses and packing their gear for the trip back to the conclave. Pie Thief and Blossom became great friends in the short time they had known each other. Most of the morning, Pie sat on Blossom’s head hanging on to the burro’s ears, which were taller than Pie sitting upright. Blossom seemed happy to have her there, especially when Pie would share a purloined bee biscuit with her.
“Ha! Our new grove mate knows how to win friends and influence burro
s,” Quinlan said.
Ticca laughed at the antics. “Siestrey, is she a familiar?”
“I do not believe so, Ticca, but who am I to say? Mine is a walking stick that came to me on a familiar quest three years ago. Askue is capable of channeling the power of the esbat and yet I knew not until this journey. Perhaps this journey has been your familiar quest in the eyes of Na’veyja and you have found yours.”
“Have ya tried ta commune?” Cassae asked her.
“No,” Ticca answered.
“Let your spirit touch hers and ask her if she hears ya,” Cassae said.
Ticca went quiet for a moment and Pie Thief barked three times, ran around the stable, and leapt to her shoulder. She cooed twice and put her paw on Ticca’s cheek.
“Looks like ye have yer answer,” Swela said who had been watching as well.
Ticca looked like she could not be happier.
A footman entered the stables. “Master Quinlan?”
“Yes, here.”
“A message from Master Kenri. I’m ta wait and brin’ him back yer answer.”
“One moment.” Quinlan read the short message. “You may inform him we accept.”
“Gratitude, milord.” The footman bowed and returned the way he came.
“Kenri would like us to join him before we go,” he said.
“He do be setting out the tastiest sweets and breads for his guests, so count me in.” Sovia crossed her arms and gave a nod.
“Be mindful we need to be on the trail home by high sun, so don’t be shy,” Quinlan said. “I know you have trouble in that area.”
“I do be a delicate flower, milord,” Sovia said daintily.
“Uh-huh,” Quinlan replied sarcastically. “Let’s finish up before we meet Kenri, so we can leave right afterward.”
“It shall be so, Siestrey.” She happily started ordering people about.
Grove Seven found Kenri later on one of the terraces of Torr Amhairc along with Ronni MacRory and Wylla.
“Lah ahm, friends,” Kenri said as they arrived. “Please, sit with us. We’re having a late breakfast and talking about the flaura.”
The grove greeted the three and chose seats around the open-air table.
“Lah ahm, and gratitude, Kenri,” Quinlan said. “Lah ahm, Ronni and Wylla.”
“Lah ahm, Quin, Grove Seven.” Wylla nodded.
“Ahh—lah ahm,” Ronni said but looked confused.
“Means good morning,” Kenri told her, “in Gwylari.”
“Oh, lah ahm, ta ye all,” she said with more confidence. “I was just tellin’ them, I always took the glow of flaura fer granted. ’Tis always been there. I never thought ta question it.”
“I was the same when I was youn’,” Cassae said. “I remember me first years with the Order. I thought the older druids were wizards, truth be told, and that they’re weavin’ magic.”
“What exactly is it, can ye say?” Ronni asked.
“Most certainly,” Kenri answered. “Druids can tap into a form of ethereal energy from the goddess we call Na’veyja’s grace. Where the environment is alive and healthy, it has a stronger connection to Na’veyja’s grace and begins to glow. The flaura shines brighter wherever a group of plants and trees remain strongly connected to the goddess.”
“Like the deep woods and the Great Marsh they call home?” Ronni asked. “’Tis why some areas are brighter than others?”
“Yes, and yes,” Kenri replied. “In the early days of the Order, two levels of interaction were known of. The typical druid in the Order of Arden can only manipulate flaura, such as fast grow a plant but not without a seed or spore to start with. Other druids, such as a brother or sister of the Dayne Kinship, can create plants by calling the flaura from the world around them without the need of a seed.”
“Siestrey Quinlan is a brother of the Dayne,” Ticari said.
“You have the right of it, Settey Ticari,” Kenri replied. “And congratulations on your recent advancement.”
“Gratitude, Master Kenri.”
“Before his death, Eldret and I believed a third interface had been discovered. The conduits, as Askue is and as Freyn was, have the ability to access Na’veyja’s grace where none is directly available. Perhaps they draw energy from the ethereal plane. I cannot truly say. They can bestow the energy upon other druids who utilize it in many ways, such as—let us say—awakening ancient artifacts in poisoned watersheds. From what Chyne has shared with me regarding her people, I have come to suspect the Gwylari are natural conduits of Na’veyja’s grace. They are born with the inherent ability to call the flaura at will and use it in their everyday life.”
“The farm communities of the Gwylari are nae what they once were,” Wylla said. “And they’re fewer and farther between now than in recorded history.”
“Yes, truth be told,” Kenri said. “I remember the flaura being much brighter when I was a boy playing along the coasts of Vakere than it is today.”
“Perhaps the recovery of the Cealjin Delta and Drifting Leaf will help restore it to former glory,” Quinlan said.
“Yes, indeed,” Kenri replied.
“My curiosity is piqued,” Ronni said. “We must speak more of the Order sometime, Kenri. What I saw in Driftin’ Leaf dinnae easily leave the mind’s eye.”
“At length, mi lady, at length,” Kenri said. “There was another tale of Drifting Leaf that caught my attention. I heard a tale of a beauty and a beast if you will. Horrendous, what was done to the creature. I imagine the pain drove it into pure mania.”
“Truth be told,” Ticari said, “it had gone berserk.”
“Aye,” Kian said. “Even knowin’ about her power over beasts, seein’ it runnin’ at her nearly stilled ma heart.”
“Swela,” Kenri said, “the tale of you and the Torac in Drifting Leaf intrigues me. Would it pain you to tell me the story of how you got your scar?”
“’Tis painful nae longer, Kenri.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I was a wee lass of six years. I awoke early one mornin’ and went down ta the lake we lived near. I remember a butterfly goin’ by and chasin’ after it inta the woods. ’Twere summer then and the woods were like a dream, all misty and glowin’ in the mornin’ light.”
The group murmured in appreciation as everyone followed along. Ronni sat forward and paid closer attention to Swela. Quinlan knew Ticari and Ticca had never heard the tale told and they listened intently.
“I was out in the world on ma own fer the first time, just too youn’ ta realize there was any danger. A mother bear and her cubs had come down ta forage around the water and I walked straight inta them.”
“Oh, no,” Ticca said.
Ronni gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. “What happened?” she asked through her fingers.
“The bear roared when it saw me standin’ there. The sound of it frightened me so bad, I peed ma bed gown.”
Ronni nodded. “Pbff—I probably would’a shite mine.”
“What did you do?” Ticari asked.
“I turned and fled, which I know now was the wron’ thin’ ta do. The bear followed and caught me. She grabbed me here”—Swela unfastened her raiment and moved the shoulder of her blouse down to expose more of a four-lined scar—“and spun me around and knocked me ta the ground.” She lifted the bottom edge of her blouse and showed the bottom of the scar lines where it went under the waist of her pants. “Ripped four gashes clear ta ma waist.”
“Swela, I never knew!” Ticca became so emotional she ran over and embraced Swela. She pulled a chair closer, dabbed at tears, and looked ready to hear more. Pie peeked out from Ticca’s hood, chittered, and remained on alert.
“Did anyone come ta help ye?” Ronni asked.
“Nae, just then,” Swela said. “I screamed fer ma and da, but I had wandered too far and they could nae hear me. It hurt so badly where the bear had cut ma side, I cried and cried. ’Twas then I heard the most beautiful and soothing voice. It spoke nae ta ma ears, only ta ma spiri
t and said, Swela have nae fear.”
“Who said it?” Ronni asked.
“’Twas Na’veyja,” Swela said. “She came ta ma rescue.”
“How did she?” Ronni asked.
“The excruciatin’ pain was gone. A golden-yellow glow came from ma wounds. They closed over with new skin leavin’ only the scar. The bear moved in for another strike, but she stopped within paw’s reach. Our spirits blended and she plopped down next to me like I was another cub. Ever since that day, I’ve been able ta calm the vicious side of angry beasts.”
“What happened afterward?” Ticari asked.
“Oh, ye should’a seen my da’s face when they come lookin’ fer me and find me sittin’ next ta that bear.”
“Did they kill it?” Ronni asked.
“Nae, I told her ta go and she did,” Swela said. “I could nae explain ta ma folks what’d happened until I grew older and reasoned it out maself. Half the village thought me a witch at the time. Da moved us away and we ended up settlin’ at the conclave.”
“Incredible,” Kenri said when she finished.
“Aye,” Ronni said. “Quite a tale.”
“Swela,” Kenri said, “I believe there may be a connec—What in Na’veyja’s name?”
The terrace shook under their feet when the castle it was mounted to and the ground underneath the castle shook and rumbled.
“Earth tremor!” Therin exclaimed.
A mighty cracking and a rumbling roar were heard from far in the distance. The noise grew closer and louder in seconds. The force of the sound when it arrived shattered glass panes, terrified animals, and nearly deafened Quinlan before it rolled off toward the opposite horizon.
Quinlan cringed and put his hands over his ears to protect them. The others around him did the same.
“By the Goddess!” Sovia said when it had passed.
“I should go and see if any need help,” Ronni said.
“We’ll go with you,” Quinlan replied.
They reached the castle grounds, which were filling with people as they left the shaking buildings for the safety of open places.
The ground shook more violently than before. The eastern tower cracked and crumbled. A cloud of dust and debris billowed out as the tower collapsed into a pile.
