by Gwynn White
“You failed.”
“Yes, Master,” Jogli’s acknowledgement was barely audible with his forehead pressing against the cold marble floors in the lowest bow he could manage. He dared not look up, and dared not argue with the wizard.
“How did this happen?” Wizard Vail’s voice was as cold as the marble upon which Jogli lay prostrate, and a shiver of fear ran through the acolyte at the pain it promised.
“We had entered the passage the peasants call the Goddess’ Womb where the walls of the canyon narrow into a passage that allows only two riding abreast.”
Wizard Vail nodded, he knew the place, more than that he had seen it through Jogli’s eye, but he wanted his servant’s thoughts as well as he vision. “Continue.”
“The farrier awoke from the blow which we used to capture him. He lay tied across the saddle with his hands and feet bound. After that,” Jogli paused, and another spasm of fear rippled his robes and jerked his shoulders, yet he kept his face planted against the marble floor. “After that, I am not sure what happened. Somehow, he escaped his ropes. The soldiers who bound him have been punished. They will not be using their hands again, for anything.”
Again, Vain nodded. “Excellent. Please continue.” And, Jogli almost sobbed with relief at the almost pleasant tone in the mage’s voice.
“Once the man had escaped his bounds, he slid from the horse and helped deliver the mare’s foal. All the horses threw their riders, and formed a protective ring around them. Arrows were useless in the tight canyon, and the horses appeared unafraid of either sword, lance or spear. The animals appeared to be almost working together, of one mind, and we could do nothing to penetrate their shield. If one was injured another pushed forward. Many soldiers died from their kicks, and more were injured by their hooves and teeth.”
Wizard Vail stroked his beard as he contemplated Jogli’s version of the events. He had seen it all, but he valued Jogli’s first-hand account and opinions even though he would never tell his minion that. “Why do you think the animals behaved this way?” he asked, and that was the crux of the matter. The wizard wanted to be sure of the extent of Christol’s control over animals.
“I watched the man as closely as I could, and he never gave any verbal commands. Once or twice, he seemed to whisper to the horse he escaped on, but there was never any spoken communication. Also he seemed to be just staring in the horse’s eyes. I cannot clearly state what was occurring, but it almost appeared as if the man was speaking to the animal’s mind.”
“Rise,” the magician commanded.
Jogli struggled to his feet trying to untangle his legs from the fold of his formal robes. He finally stood, head bowed, afraid to look at his master.
“You know the penalty for failure.” It was a not a question, and there would have been no time to reply as Jogli’s agonized screams began the moment the mage made the proclamation.
“And you never saw what hit you?” Stephye asked.
“No, never saw anything, from the time I was hit to the time I escaped. All I saw was the back of horse. But…” Christol turned toward Dancer. “I think this big fellow here can help us with this question, at least.”
The puzzled crease across Ellora’s forehead deepened as questions turned into knowledgeable fears. If what she now suspected was true, the danger Christol faced could affect all of them.
“Tell me.” Christol, Stephye and Riesa recognized the voice of the Goddess speaking through Ellora, and knew then the gravity of the situation they faced.
“I can…” Blushes of embarrassment colored the large man’s fair skin making his blond hair and beard appear as the seed spots on a ripened strawberry. “I can talk to the horses,” he finally spluttered out. “And, they talk back.”
“I see.” Again, the Goddess’ voice that spoke through her priestess. “Explain please.”
An exasperated sigh escaped the man’s lips. “How do you explain a lifetime of loving horses,” he thought. Scratching the back of his head, he attempted to explain something he had always experienced, but never consciously tried to use or understand. “I’ve always had this way with horses. I always know what they need and why. I’ve never really given it any thought. If they're hungry, I feed them. If they want to run in the pasture, I free them. I just do what is needed to care for them. I never gave any thought to how I knew this. I just did it.”
They paused at the end of the meadow as it stretched toward the town’s low fieldstone walls. Reigning close together, they formed a small ring. Ellora’s melodic voice that asked, “So what changed?”
Scanning the woods behind him for trackers, Christol brought his eyes back to hers. “I’m not really sure. I just needed to be free. Wanted to be free more than anything, and I could hear her. She was in pain, and she needed to give birth.”
Ellora cocked her head sideways, scratched her ear, and a small frown creased her forehead, “Her?”
“The mare I was riding.”
“Oh, oh, I see.” Ellora’s blush was pretty and it hid her confusion. She couldn’t understand why she thought it might have been another woman he was talking about, and more bewildering she couldn’t understand why she even cared. “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” she explained which was partially true. “So, what happened next?”
Stephye and Riesa exchanged a look that was both knowing and amused. Neither friend was the least bit fooled by Ellora’s denial of her feelings. Both of them knew that Christol loved Ellora and she loved him in return. The only one that wasn’t aware of this was Christol and Ellora.
“Yes, what happened next?” Riesa asked, clearing the tension that had risen like bog mist, shadowy and deceiving, in the middle of the small group.
Christol sighed, as he thought back to the events surrounding his escape, and tried to explain what happened. “I woke up on the back of this mare, and at first I was frantic to escape. I realized that struggling wasn’t going to help, so I forced myself to relax and think. That’s when I felt her pain, and knew that she was in labor and needed to stop immediately. But, my captors weren’t listening.”
“And…” Stephye promoted when Christol had stopped to think.
“I’m thinking. I am not clear on this part of it. I sort of spoke to her with my mind and she answered. And, then I spoke to the only other horse I could see, which was just the legs of the animal, and showed him how to untie me.”
“Spoke?” This time it was the Goddess’s voice asking the questions.
“With my thoughts, with simple words and mostly pictures. I showed the horse what I needed with a picture, and then he did what I needed.”
“That is why he wants you,” the Goddess said. “Hurry to the temple. You have no time left.”
Christol raised his eyes from the comforting cup of soup the potboy had placed before him and gazed down the long corridor off the kitchen. A soft glow from the Goddess’ eternal flame shimmered on the walls casting both light and shadow. A shiver of fear ran up his spine, and he lifted his warming soup to his lips trying to displace the perplexing and unusual sensation. He soon forgot about it as the conversation went from gratitude for the tasty meal to plans to a serious discussion about Wizard Vail’s intentions for Mithonde.
“It was a mistake from the day it was first given breath,” Ellora stated, her hunting dagger scratching fine lines across the planks of the coarse kitchen table. “I tried to tell them. I tried…” She gazed off down the hallway where Christol’s eyes had previously wandered. “If only they had waited. She would have taken care of the dragons. In Her own way and time.”
Riesa reached across the table and grabbed the high priestess’ hand. “They were scared. They didn’t want to lose any more of their fields of animals, or loved ones.”
“I understand that, Riesa, and the Goddess knew that also. She cares for her people. All of them from the bully in the tavern to the termite in his home. And, that includes the dragons. They are her creatures, too. Her plan would have brought peace to every
one, eventually. If they had waited. Now….”
Ellora’s voice drifted off, and for the first time, all three friends, Christol, Stephye and Riesa, heard a note of fear and despair in it.
“Now what?” They all asked and almost in unison.
Ellora began tracing the wood grains with her hunting dagger again. In the darkened kitchen, her shining blond locks held the deep, dark of burnished copper, and Christol thought she had never looked more beautiful, even if she also looked more concerned than he had ever known her to be.
“Now, I don’t know.” She stabbed the dagger straight into the wood, and looked up at her friends. “The Goddess is not talking to me, I don’t know what her plans are, people with any type of magic are disappearing, Jogli commandeers more soldiers and supplies weekly, and I have no idea what is going on.” She jerked the dagger from the table and through it at one of the standing beams where it stuck with slight vibration at the violence of her throw.
Pushing herself away from the table, she strode to the beam, wrenched out her knife and turned on her friends. “This would have never happened if they had just listened to me. What good am I, if the people won’t listen? What is my purpose? Oversee the sacrifices and the eternal flame? Is that it? Well, that seems to be it, since She isn’t talking to me anymore, and who in all of evil depths of Charonyde knows what the blazes is going on!”
Christol pushed back his bench, and walked softly to her side. He gently lifted her chin to face him, and said, “Ellora, no one is blaming you. The people know, they remember your warnings against getting involved with Vail, and now they know it is their own fault. What we must do is figure out what he is up to and how to stop him. Even if the Goddess is not speaking to you, you know she still cares. You said so yourself. Maybe she is just counting on you to figure this out.”
Stephye and Riesa, holding hands, walked over to join the pair that now stood in front of the kitchen hearth with its blazing fire and comforting warmth. “He’s right you know,” Riesa said. “The Goddess is depending on you because, as you said, no one else is listening.”
Ellora crossed her arms over her chest and the look on her face was more than a little skeptical. “Well, Riesa, she isn’t talking to me either, so exactly how am I supposed to do that?”
“She did give you a brain; maybe she wants you to use it.”
Ellora hid her smile by rubbing her face with her hands. “You think so?”
“She wouldn’t have selected you to be the high priestess without it,” Stephye offered. He had remained mostly quiet throughout Ellora’s bout of self-deprecation simply because he was too surprised to think of anything to say. The normally composed, reserved and logical high priestess didn't have fits of self-pity or insecurity. Her current doubts about herself and her abilities left him speechless, and he was glad to have finally thought of something encouraging to say.
The small group stood facing each other in a small circle in front of the hearth fire where the pot of soup still bubbled. The aroma of its rich spicy broth filled the kitchen, but their thoughts were far from the comfort of either fire or filled bellies.
“We need to find out what he is up to? We cannot stay here in the safety of the temple while our people are kidnapped, and who in pits of Charonyde knows what is happening to them.”
Christol’s eyebrows almost met the bangs on his forehead as the priestess cussed for second time in as many minutes. Realizing how truly worried she was, he reached out to comfort her, laying his hand on her arm to turn her toward him. She brushed it aside, and turned to him.
“Do not touch me,” the Goddess said. “She who serves me is no longer she who is here. You will follow her. You will go to the Draekhen Mountains, to the Halls of Marbeht, and find the lair of Wizard Vail, rescue my people and remove this abomination from Mithlonde, forever.”
“But the dragons…”
The Goddess cut him off in mid-sentence. “The dragons will obey the one who speaks to animals. The priestess will guide you, protect you and heal you. Your friends will assist in everything else.”
Stephye and Riesa looked at each other, then at Christol and finally at Ellora, the puzzled look on their faces mirrored in the faces of both Christol and the high priestess.
Christol risked a tentative tap on Ellora’s arm. “Are you you?” He asked.
“I am, I think,” her lips pursing into a frown. “She keeps doing that to me lately, and I don’t like it at all. I also don’t like this whole idea.”
“Well, that makes about four of us,” Riesa said.
“Yeah,” Stephye and Christol agreed.
“I really don’t think we have any choice,” Ellora replied.
“And, when are we supposed to do this?” Christol asked.
‘Now!” Came the command from the Goddess’ lips.
All three of the others moaned in unison at both the long journey ahead of them, and the dangers of facing the dragons that lived in the Draekhen Mountains.
Chapter Four
Ellora’s curses could have blistered the bark off every branch and tree trunk in the forest if the Goddess had blessed her with the gift of the spoken word. As it was, they only caused her companions to hunch their shoulders and scrunch lower in their saddles. It was also fortunate for the tried little group that the target of her verbal fireballs had neither flesh nor substance. It was more ethereal than that. It was fate and destiny.
“I never wanted this,” she shouted, flinging one arm around in a gesture that encompassed everybody and everything. Riesa, Stephye and Christol simply sank lower in their saddles and hoping her words didn’t include them as well.
“I never wanted to serve the Goddess, I never wanted to be a priestess and I never wanted the Magic! All I ever wanted was to be a huntress. I didn’t want to feel them die, and I don’t want to help them pass onto the Goddess.”
Her three traveling companions exchanged a silent communication with raised eyebrows, puzzled frowns and shrugged shoulders. They all knew she hated magic, hated the soul-deep awareness of death and passing over, but she had been trained since childhood to become the high priestess It’s what she’s always wanted, or so they thought.
Christol pulled his head up from between his hunched shoulders to brave the priestess’ wrath and ask the question they all wanted to ask. “But, I thought your life’s dream was to be the high priestess?’
“It wasn’t mine. It was my mother’s!” And, this time, as she pulled back on the reins to turn her horse, tiny licks a flame crawled across her fingertips shining like lightening bugs in the darkening forest. “She never listened to me. Night after night, crying myself to sleep after the day’s grueling training, I would beg her to let me go. To let me be free like you to run, to laugh, to hunt.”
She yanked her mount to a stop and the others gathered around her watching in fascination at the flames that now raced up her arms, across her shoulders and brow, ringing her, lighting and outlining her but not burning.
“’Shh now, my lamb. It is for the best,” she would say,’ ‘one day you will understand.’ Well, I don’t understand and by all the dragons on Mithlonde, someone is going to suffer for this.” And, as if a portent of things to come the flames that had been flickering across Ellora engulfed her, pulsing and blazing with the depth of her fury. Christol, Riesa and Stephye slowly backed their horses away from the angry priestess, their silent retreat a more telling acknowledgement of her needs and her anger than any logical expostulation could have been.
Wizard Vail adjusted his robes as meticulously as he adjusted his thoughts. Listening to his adopted son’s groans of pain was an annoying wrinkle in his thoughts, and he smoothed it away with the justification for the need for discipline, order and obedience. “He must learn how to do his duties correctly. The first time.” With that thought, muddled musings cleared like still water at the top of a muddy puddle. He pushed open the dungeon door and gazed thoughtfully at the mass of blood and cloth that lay moaning at his feet.
“Get up!”
Jogli struggled to his feet using his arms to push himself up. Blood created candy stripes, dark red against the pale skin of his forearms, where the torturer had applied Vail’s magic to wound and punish. The table where the torturer’s tools lay was within arm’s reach, and Jogli used it to balance himself as both blood loss and pain made the room spin. He fought back a wave of nausea, knowing that any sign of weakness at this point would only bring him more agony.
The wizard’s eyes tightened at the sight and a small twitch appeared, causing Vail to blink and look away from the physical disaster his son had become. He cleared his mind, and once again focused his thoughts on his plans and his ultimate desires. “Do you recognize the evil you caused?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you acknowledge that you failed me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Will you fail me again?”
“No, Master.” And, this time a shudder of fear shook Jogli as he gripped the table more tightly, shaking and rattling the iron torture tools. He risked a glance at the wizard and hid another tremble of fear when he saw understanding in the man’s eyes. Jogli pulled himself up, releasing his grip on the table and prepared for another assault.
“Good as I have need of you again.”
Wizard Vail turned toward the door where two servant guards stood waiting. “Clean him up and bring him to my chambers,” he ordered, striding through the door, Jogli already forgotten as he considered his plans for capturing Christol.
