Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  "You keep disrespecting me and I'll use a scorpion's tale for a switch." Findyl smiled as he savored Bowdyn's arrival. Here's one he trusted and loved like a son.

  "Enough, you two." Jayk leaned back to stretch his back muscles as he spoke. Then he rolled his shoulders and neck before adding, "Save the banter for later."

  "What's up, Jayk?" Bowdyn always had an ability to get serious in a hurry.

  "Bridgewater's under attack."

  "Attack how?"

  "Wraiths have come."

  Bowdyn's hair rose on the back of his neck as he recalled the eerily human shapes appearing in the fog sitting on top of the bridge he passed and the clump of mist that crossed the street in front of him as if it moved on its own volition.

  Is that the reason why the village is shuttered like it is and why the tavern is nearly empty, he wondered.

  "What about the whiteskins?" Bowdyn used a term that was becoming more popular as time passed. He had seen more than one lately, and all of them gave him chills with their clouded-over eyes starring at him like he was no more than a dog to be kicked out of the way. "Disturbing folk if you ask me."

  "Aye, they're here too." Jayk looked at Findyl to see how he was taking all of this. "But few are strangers. Most are people I've known all my life. Each week that passes, their numbers grow."

  "You mean villagers are turning white?" Bowdyn didn't like the sound of that.

  "Aye." Jayk leaned forward as he spoke. "One day they look normal... the next they're white as bed sheets. Their hair's white too, like they’d grown old overnight. Their eyes are all cloudy like they'd died. Worse yet, my father in-law is one of them."

  "The Mayor?"

  "Aye... and most of the village elders too, along with Gasyn who owns the stables, a few farmers, one of the vineyard owners, and a handful of children. There's old Trott as well. He used to love to fish in the Teal River before his skin washed-out."

  "By all that's holy, what's going on? I know that Ab'Don's personal guard is white as chalk and I've seen a few of them riding on our roads, but this... it's beyond me. I've heard there’s magic in the Hall of Voyd that can wash the color out of a man’s skin." Bowdyn ran a hand through his hair as he tried to figure things out. "But the hall's on the other side of the Thrall Mountains. Besides, not too long ago, all the whiteskins bore arms for the Sorcerer and lived in the shadow his magic cast.

  "But you say, some of the village's children are now whiteskins. That doesn't fit the pattern. Besides, the men living in Bridgewater only fight when they need to protect their homes or for honor. Few have done any real soldiering. It's almost like a plague has come to the village. What other explanation is there?"

  Findyl turned and spat on the floor in disgust. "Sorry Peyt. I couldn't help myself."

  "That's alright. I'd do the same if I didn't have to clean it up later." Peyt had moved close enough to hear Findyl's quiet apology. "One of them kids is my nephew, Toomy. Do you mind if I join you?"

  "Pull up a chair, Peyt. What's said here concerns you as much as it does us," Findyl replied as he watched the large bellied, bull of a man pulled off his apron and sit down. Sweat sat in beads on top of his bald head. Since the kitchen ovens weren't on, it wasn't hard to guess why he was perspiring.

  "How old’s Toomy?" Bowdyn asked more to make the large man feel comfortable than to discover the boy’s age.

  "Next winter will be his tenth, if Toomy's still Toomy." Peyt examined his huge hands for moment before mumbling, "He don't act like Toomy anymore. He doesn't play with the other kids; and he only laughs when one of the others gets hurt. I swear I've seen him do some of the hurting." A look of shame crossed his face as he realized what he was saying.

  "Don't feel bad, Peyt." Jayk squared up his shoulders after he decided to face things head on. "My father-in-law's a stranger to his own daughter. She's even told me to never leave her and the kids alone with him the way Kroyn looks at them. Hungry like. Strange thing is, he seems to recall little of the history that Karyn and he shared. Case in point, he has few recollections of the raid that killed my folks when he was wounded as bad as he was. What do you make of that?"

  A cobbler by trade, Jayk’s bravery and fighting ability enabled him to marry above his station. As it turned out, Bridgewater’s mayor was only too glad to give Jayk a blessing to marry his daughter, Karyn, once he found out about their deepening affections. Though the cobbler didn’t own any land yet, Kroyn reckoned that Jayk’s reputation as the village’s protector was sure to gain him such over the course of time. Besides, a family could always use another sword living in the violence that was intrinsic to Ar Warl, a sword wielded by a man who was not reluctant to use it, one who could tap into a reservoir of anger that made him dangerous to his enemies.

  Trying to avoid all out war, but still wanting to satiate their greed, the kings of both Storch and Kent regularly sent out raiding parties hidden behind the guise of being one of the outlaw bands that roamed the warl without owing allegiance to any particular realm. Since gaining territory was seldom the goal of these raids, this kept the fighting from boiling over into conflicts that would force the kings into needless all out war, though a generation had not passed without seeing such a conflict erupt.

  Ab'Don never interfered with the kings' disputes. In fact, he encouraged them since animosity and discord were things his brand of dark magic fed on. With the amount of mystical might he wielded, the Sorcerer didn't fear rebellion. Besides, his unparalleled skill in manipulating others kept the lords off balance enough to stop unwanted alliances from developing. At the same time, the infighting provided him with an endless supply of battle-tested warriors.

  With Bridgewater situated in the Thrall Mountians’ southern foothills, far from both Storch and Kent, it was a prime target for such forays. The excellent wine, squeezed from lush grapes growing in vineyards that blanketed the hills surrounding the village, made the place a likely target for looters.

  Since the storehouses holding the casks of aging drink were located on the banks of the Teal River that separated the kingdoms of Storch and Kent, the raiders were forced to use the bridge to reach their prize. The large casks of wine, that comprised the treasure pillagers were after, ruled out the Thrall Mountains as a direction to launch an attack from. Carrying heavy plunder over such treacherous terrain would slow them down enough to allow reprisal to quickly overtake them.

  It was here on the stone archway that Jayk had made his reputation. Standing at the tip of the spear that turned the raiders away, the storehouses had never been plundered since he had become a man. His brother's reputation among the highwaymen and his relationship to the village of Bridgewater helped keep the real outlaws away. It was no secret that raiders had killed Bowdyn's parents. There wasn’t a brigand around who wanted to cross swords with the brothers who fierce anger was stoked by that memory.

  "I even caught Kroyn leading Shayne off into the vineyards the other day." Jayk's jaw muscles churned as he paused. "When I asked him what was happening, Kroyn said he wanted to show my boy something. When I asked him what, he said, something special. Then he walked away without so much as saying a goodbye to me or my boy.

  "Later I caught him watching me work at my shop, through the front door I'd left open to let some air in. So, I pulled my knife out of my boot and crossed the street to confront him. Putting my blade to his throat, I told him to stay away from my children when Karyn and I aren't around.

  "You know what he said to that? Nothing! He didn't even blink his clouded-over eyes while I waited for a response. Not a word was said, nor a muscle moved, not even when I nicked his throat with my knife. Stranger still, no blood came from the cut. When I finally gave up and went back to work, he continued his vigil like nothing had happened."

  "Does he watch you often?" It was Findyl's nature to want to see the Big Picture. To do this, he gathered pieces of information he fit together, so he could see what the puzzle revealed.

  "He keeps an eye on me like I'm
a prisoner and he's a guard. I think he'd put me in chains if he could."

  "What about the other whiteskins? Do they act like guards?"

  "Well, now that you ask... I guess they do. They all move about the village, watching and keeping their thoughts to themselves. The only time they talk is to dismiss people's fears over those who’ve gone missing and to give excuses for each other's strange behavior. I've heard that on more than one occasion, they've resorted to threatening those who persist in asking questions about them."

  "Threatening them how?"

  "With foolish things, like saying curiosity could bring a curse down on their heads. After a few of the more stubborn folk went missing after they were given a talking to, the warnings have put an end to any questions spoken above a whisper, lest the whiteskins- as you call them- get wind of what they're saying."

  "And what do people whisper about the whiteskins?"

  "The whisperers say they're possessed. Some say they're dead too. Even the dads and moms say their children are different." Jayk looked at Peyt before continuimg. "Like Toomy. And none of the parents that I know outright disagree with the speculations, though some avoid the conversations as best they can."

  "What do you make of this Old Man?" Bowdyn didn't mind fighting if it was with a flesh and blood adversary. Coming up against magic so dark folks were getting possessed was another matter. "And what about the talk of wraiths?"

  Findyl rubbed his stubble-covered chin, pursed his lips, and took each of the men in a measured gaze before he replied. "A profoundly troubling change has taken place in Ar Warl. One would guess that this is because a war is on the horizon whose ramifications are so horrible they literally shake the ground we stand on." Findyl was refering to the earthquakes that regularly visited the warl. "The way the kings are busy conscripting our youth into their armies and placing heavy demands on the rest of us to build up their stores is disconcerting enough. As we all know, Bridgewater has already endured two such gleanings. But I fear there is a different explanation for the things that are taking place around us. From what I've been able to gather, the beginning of Ar Warl's transformation coincides with rumors saying the Sorcerer has lost the Hammer of Power.

  "It’s well known that Ab'Don had the story of how the Hammer of Power came to him of its own accord circulated to prove, that beyond a shadow doubt, he is, indeed, the Hammer Bearer who will usher in Parm Warl's glorious age.

  "This talisman, that none here has seen but his emissaries have so emphatically heralded, is of paramount importance to him because it places him on firm footing atop of the most important prophecies to arise since the Age of Star’s Blood's demise. Having it in his possession validates his claim to being Shloman the Great's heir. As such, he gains the allegiance of all without having to coerce them with threats. Then, when he goes off to conquer Nyeg Warl, the throngs of warriors he brings with him will follow his lead with zealot like passion instead of out of fear. Can you not see the benefit in this?

  "And now rumors say Ab'Don has lost the talisman that verified his claims."

  Frowning over the weak link in Findyl's chain of reasoning, Bowdyn gave his opinion. "No doubt this talisman is important. But as all who live in Ar Warl know, Ab'Don's rule is absolute without it. The Sorcerer's authority is unquestioned. His armies will fight just as hard no matter if he has this hammer in hand or not. I don't see why losing the talisman would push Ab'Don into changing things as much as he has?"

  Findyl nodded in agreement. "Your point is well made. Some other dynamic must have come into play when the Hammer of Power was lost. Other magikers tell of a great battle fought at Chylgroyd's Keep over the Hammer of Power, a battle Ab'Don lost. They say the Sorcerer also lost a prisoner along with the Hammer of Power. Oddly enough, it's the man Nyeg Warl claims is the Hammer Bearer, a man named Jeaf Oakenfel who Ab’Don captured when he came to the Ar looking for the hammer rumor claims he once possessed."

  "I've heard of the usurper," Jayk was quick to add. "What does a faker have to do with things?"

  "Put two and two together." Findyl's smile was a dour one. "Isn't it strange that the Hammer of Power and the Faker, as you call him, go missing at the same time? Isn't it stranger still that Ab'Don would tighten his grip on Ar Warl if the man was a Faker?"

  "Be careful Old Man," Bowdyn warned. "Treasonous speech will get you nowhere."

  "Facing facts isn't treason, nor should it bring into question my loyalties. I'm an Ar Warler through in through, just as you are." Findyl was aware that Bowdyn spoke out of concern for him. "If you can't chew on the words I just fed you, how will you handle the next bite I'm ready to offer, seeing it's a bigger one?"

  "Burn it to ashes Old Man! Do you see me running away?" Bowdyn was a highwayman after all, breaking rules wasn't new to him. Besides, he wanted answers for why whiteskins and wraiths were inundating the warl.

  "Peyt," Findyl looked at the man he had known for as long as he had the brothers, "you still with us?" The tavern owner was more a man of action than a talker.

  "Don't worry about me," Peyt actually appeared relaxed. "I need to know what's happened to Toomy and I ain't getting answers anywhere else."

  Peyt was the kind of person others would say was the Salt of the Warl. That's why he was such, until recently, a prosperous tavern owner. The villagers liked him. More than that, they trusted him. Every one of them considered him to be a friend, many a dear friend. The fact he had, over the passing winters, used his massive fists to kill a litany of outsiders who were foolish enough to think they could stir up trouble in the tavern, only made his neighbors respect him more. Fierce in battle, Peyt had picked up his axe more than once to fight by Jayk's side in defense of the village, and more than once, each had saved the other's life.

  With the humorless smile that acknowledged Peyt’s response fading from his face, Findyl continued. "Remember I said that a battle had been fought in Chylgroyd's Keep?" A pause took place long enough to let the three listeners respond with nods of their heads. "There's a rebellion taking place in the Great Ral Mountians where the last of the Brie'Shen are said to be holed up. It's reported that they're calling themselves Fane J'Shrym now."

  "Like the people who once lived in Mishal Parm?" Peyt wanted Findyl to know he was paying attention. "But haven't they died off?

  "It now seems that may not have happened. What I've been told is this, they changed their name to Brie'Shen to hide from those who wished them ill- Ab'Don being the chiefest of these. I think we would’ve done the same thing after being harassed the way they were by those who said flesh and blood Fane J'Shrym were abominations who lost the right to their name, as well as to their lives, when they let the Age of Star’s Blood die

  "So what do we know so far? Ab'Don has lost the talisman that he himself claims is the Hammer of Power. The Faker who Nyeg Warl believes is the Hammer Bearer vanishes with it. A people now calling themselves Fane J'Shrym are responsible for all of this happening when they attacked Chylgroyd's Keep. And Ar Warl is suddenly filled with whiteskins and wraiths."

  "Go on." Bowdyn said, wanting to get to the journeys end as soon as possible. "So, you think all of this is connected? If that's so, what does this tell us about the whiteskins and wraiths?"

  "Since Ab'Don has always had whiteskins surrounding him, it's safe to say they are connected to him in some way. I know magickers who think the Sorcerer cast a spell over them that makes the whiteskins extensions of himself, to the point he can hear what they hear and see what they see if he wants to. Some say the Nyeg Warlers call it the Spell of the White Hand. But no one is certain how its magic works.

  “With the influx of whiteskins in Ar Warl, and I assure you what we're seeing in Bridgewater is happening everywhere else, we can conclude that Ab'Don is taking direct control of his empire. He's not letting his surrogates deal with things. If the Sorcerer does have a supernatural connection with the whiteskins, as we think is likely, then his presence fills our village.

  "Don't miss the point I'm m
aking Peyt, I think the Sorcerer can look through Toomy's eyes if he so desires. I most certainly think he can read his thoughts. Jayk, the same goes for Kroyn and the others."

  Silence filled the tavern as the men came to grips with this idea. Caught up in the conversation they were having, the four didn't realize that the rest of the room was empty. None knew when the few others had left. Only the coins laying on the table tops and the empty cups and bowls sitting beside the scattered payment gave proof that others had been there.

  Seeing they were now alone, Findyl spoke a little louder, but only a little bit. "As troubling as the whiteskins are, the wraiths have me more worried. Though, in times past, the Sorcerer has conjured up spirits called fraethym to do his bidding, he has never been known to have mastered the Art of Necromancy. In fact, none now living in Ar Warl has.”

  Findyl leaned forward and placed the palms of his on the table top as he added, “There’s a rumor that says Ab'Don has awakened a dark power that has long slumbered at the warl's roots to make an alliance with it, a power so great I doubt that necromancy by itself could call it forth.

  "It’s this Power that has given Ab'Don access to the fraethym. More than that, there are those who think the Power is the source of all the Sorcerer's magic, including the Spell of the White Hand. Yet, in all the time Ab'Don has ruled aver Ar Warl he has never been able to call forth wraiths to do his bidding; not even those dwelling in Cara Lorn, though it is said he has gone there to communicate with them on numerous occasions.

  "Then oddly enough, at the same time the Hammer of Power was taken from Chygroyd's Keep, Ab'Don suddenly develops an ability to control the dead. That's counterintuitive to what would take place after a battle where the so-called Fane J'Shrym freed a Faker that Nyeg Warl claims is the Hammer Bearer. Ab'Don's abilities shouldn't have increased. This makes me think that something else transpired in the keep.