by Rex Hazelton
When the hunchman shouted for his companions to follow him, everyone's hands went to their weapons as they watched the beast-men careening down the rocky ridge that stood across from them and disappear into the gorge. With the flame continuing to dance atop the candle that one of the hunchmen carried, the grip on their weapons tightened. Was this a trick? Could some dark enchantment be at work?
Odder still, Travyn and the hunchman gave each other a helping hand as they climbed up the rocky ridge. Things were getting too much for Lamarik to stomach. Warriors shouldn't act this way. So, Lamarik decided she’d give the hunchman a dose of reality once he reached her.
Storm Master, her sarcasm hadn't been dismissed yet, no wonder he can't call down lightning anymore. Travyn's gone soft without Kaylan around.
Travyn and the stranger continued talking like two women who had bumped into each other at the village well while the rest of hunchman gathered at the foot of the rocky ridge below. Poroth and the Fane J'Shrym moved up the gorge to face the beast-men that stood there. The Candle Wielders among them had their candles lit and at the ready. Their eyes were wide at the sight of a hunchman carrying a candle of his own, one that was as white as theirs. The Neflin took positions around Lamarik. Two of them held bows, with arrows nocked to the bowstrings, in their hands.
Climbing up the last bit of rock, Travyn slapped the hunchman on the back and said, "Lamarik, I'd like you to meet Ilya'Gar Bro'Noon. He’s from Nyeg Warl and my best friend."
"Best friend?" Ilya'Gar's laughter was harsh sounding. "I'm his only friend. No one else can handle that stare of his or put up with his atrocious manners. You'd think he was raised by a bunch of hunchman. Wait,” Ilya’Gar’s laughter had a snarl in it this time, “I think he was."
After gaining his composure, Ilya'Gar bowed and said, "Please to meet you Lamarik. You're as beautiful as Travyn says you are."
The tight-lipped look Lamarik had been giving the two melted like butter set too close to a fire. Her eyes blinked at the unexpected compliment. Her ears lowered against her head as she looked at Travyn who seemed uneasy over what Ilya'Gar had said. He thinks I'm beautiful and he told his friend.
Stepping forward with an outstretched hand, the Brown Wizard said, "I'm Bacchanor. I know your father, Loda’Gar. This is Bala. Dog is beneath her. These close to us are Neflin. The men below are Fane J'Shrym. Welcome to Ar Warl. We have much to talk about.
****
"You were sent out as spies, is that why you’re here so close to the Hall of Voyd?" Bacchanor played with his beard as he posed his question.
"That’s but one of the tasks we've been asked to complete." Ilya'Gar, sitting before a modest campfire alongside Travyn, studied the expressions on the Neflin faces that ranged from wide-eyed wonder to narrow-eyed suspicion. Haven't they seen a hunchman before? Using the common term for his kind, Ilya'Gar had no idea of how much enmity Ab'Don had cultivated between the Broyn'Dar and the rest of the Ar Warlers.
"I guess I could say that the Prophetess initiated my mission since she was the first one to come and talk to me about it." Ilya'Gar turned to Travyn as he spoke. "But that wouldn't be true, since the undertaking was actually my father’s idea. He just hadn't gotten around to telling me about his plans to contact our cousins living in the Thrall Mountains. Using her prophetic gifts to discover the plan, your mother beat my father to the punch before his strategy had time to develop.”
"What does my mother have to do with this?" Travyn wasn't surprised Muriel was involved with Ilya'Gar's mission. This helped to explain how his friend stumbled on to his whereabouts. He already had doubts happenstance accounted for the meeting.
Hearing that Muriel had talked to Ilya'Gar about his undertaking, Travyn's question was his way to insert himself into the conversation in a more active way. Somehow this made him feel closer to his mother since his friend's arrival made him realize just how much he missed her.
"On the morning that my father wanted to meet, Muriel intercepted me as I was on my way to talk to him. Taking me by the arm, your mother led my off into a copse of trees that stood near our camp so that none could hear us speak. Telling me about Kaylan's imprisonment, Muriel said that you'd be in the Thrall Mountains trying to discover a way to free him. She expressed her fear that you would act out of haste and lose you as a result.
"Placing her hand on my head, Muriel blessed me with magic that would enable me to find you. Afterwards, she said that I had to compel you to join me in completing the task that Loda'Gar was about to give me, adding that the success of my undertaking was dependent on you and I working together. At the same time, Muriel said the mission would keep you from acting on your impulse to rush in and save your brother.
"Before we parted, your mother told me to give you her love." With that said, Ilya'Gar reached out and placed his hand on Travyn's chest. The moment his friend's hand touched him, Travyn was swept into a vision where he found himself standing in the trees beside Ilya'Gar as he spoke with the Muriel.
While the conversation continued, a luminous, gossamer-like projection of Muriel stepped away from herself and walked farther into the trees. Drawn by this iridescent phenomenon, Travyn followed the nearly transparent image that went unnoticed by the two as they spoke to one another.
With the arbors separating them from the ongoing conversation, Muriel's projection turned and offered her hands to her son. Once he took hold of them, Travyn felt his mother's presence overwhelm him in a most wonderful way. Her maternal instincts enveloped him like swaddling wrapped around a newborn. Memories of the ways his mother had expressed her love for him over the course of his life swept past his mind's eyes in rapid succession, each conveying cherished details: the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the scent of her breath, and more.
Realizing Ilya'Gar had been given an enchantment that conveyed all these things, Travyn wasn't surprised that his friend's presence had magnified his longings for his mother.
Providing an avenue for an exchange of affection was not the sole purpose of the magic Muriel had given Ilya'Gar, she wanted to speak to Travyn directly to give him a message of importance. "Son," she began, "your friend has most likely told you about my fears that you will move too quickly to come to your brother's rescue."
"Yes, he has. But how can I hesitate to act? You know he’s more than a brother to me."
"And he is my son." Muriel let the love she felt for Kaylan flow into Travyn for a moment to confirm what he already knew. "I’ve let you feel the love that I have for both of you. Is it not great? It is so great in fact that Ab'Don used it to compel me to run off into the Wilderness to confront Arachnamor in the Temple of the Oak Tree before I was ready to do so. The dreams he used to compel me act so rashly made me feel I would lose my mind if I tarried any longer. But as you know, I rushed into a trap that allowed the Evil One to touch both you and your brother, as well as me, with his darkness. It gave Ab'Don the opportunity to make the talisman that holds a frightening amount of sway over my life and now imprison's your brother, a talisman called Crooked Finger if what I’ve been told is true”'
"That's right. As we’ve all learned, the fire-blasted thing’s called Crooked Finger!" Muriel had to fight the impulse to pull her hands away from her son as the intense rage he felt over the slender, iron branch that was rammed into his brother's chest struck her.
Troubled by the strength of her son's emotions and the darkness they tapped into, Muriel said, "Be warned. Don't repeat my mistake and allow the Hall of Voyd become your Temple of the Oak Tree. Worse things could befall you and your family if you do. Bide your time. And as you do, there’s a matter of grave importance you can attend to after you meet with Ar'Warl's hunchmen."
Allowing the calm Muriel was passing on to him to assuage his anger, Travyn replied, "What matter could be greater than Kaylan's predicament?"
"The matter is not greater." Muriel looked deeply into her son's eyes as she explained. "But it has equal footing since it’s about your father."
"A shadow is descending on Jeaf that could well take his life. Once you and Ilya'Gar complete your mission, you must return to your father as soon as possible. Jeaf needs his sons near him, now more than ever, if he is to escape from this shadow. Set your concern for Kaylan aside for now and go to your father. Without Jeaf doing what he is destined to do, your brother will be lost."
Muriel's last words sent Travyn's awareness back to the Thrall Mountains where he found himself sitting before a modest campfire alongside his friend who was withdrawing his hand from his chest.
Returning to Bacchanor's question, Ilya’Gar explained "Loda'Gar told me to find my brother,” Ilya’Gar pointed his thumb at Travyn, “and compel him, as Muriel put it, to help me find our cousins. My father has authorized me to make a peace treaty with the Broyn’Dar before the Bro’Noon are forced to fight them in a war of human making."
"Is Loda'Gar asking the Broyn’Dar to hide and sit out the fight?" Poroth's pale skin looked like alabaster as it reflected the flames' light. The black, wavy hair that framed his face only added to the impression.
"No. No. No." Ilya'Gar showed one of his long canine teeth before he spat into the flames. "Neither the Broyn'Dar or Bro'Noon would miss out on a good fight. More so the Broyn'Dar since chata is still their master. I doubt the drug would allow them to pass on the opportunity to gather plunder during the coming war. The question I, whose side will they fight on? Loda'Gar hopes our blood ties will give the Broyn'Dar a way to appease their honor that could be hurt by them defecting to those who are invading their warl."
The rings of amber light intensified when Travyn heard Ilya'Gar's words. "Nyeg Warl is going on the offensive?"
"Aye, Brother." Ilya'Gar lifted his upper lip and showed the rest of the teeth that filled his snout-like mouth as he explained. "We're taking the fight to Ab’Don. With your father holed up with the Fane J'Shrym in Ar Warl like he is, Nyeg Warl's leaders thought it best to join him, since he wields the Hammer of Power that gives them a fighting chance to defeat the Sorcerer."
"Vlad'War's Child isn’t the only thing that gives Nyeg Warl a chance." Travyn was determined to see that his point was made.
"Aye, Brother. There's your mother and the beautiful voice of her's."
"There's the Fane J'Shrym too." Poroths' eyes looked like black stones freshly pulled out of a stream filled with cold water as he spoke. "Bacchanor and the Oakenfel brothers got us thinking we'll have a say in how the fighting turns out."
"It wasn't me, so much as it was Pearl who got you to believe." Bacchanor didn't appear sad as much as he looked resolved to complete a mission left unfinished even though he felt as exhausted as he did. Recollections of his wife's devotion to her work as Mar'Gul had that affect on him. It drove away sorrow, at least for the time being. Memories of how Pearl held him and spoke quietly about her hopes in the way she did when they were alone, renewed his resolve to see her work gets completed.
Never far from the Brown Wizard, Bala went and stood behind Bacchanor with one of her tiny hands resting on his powerful shoulder. Dog let his head drop on his outstretched forepaws where he lay and let out a nearly imperceptible whine. All had moisture in their eyes, especially the Neflin that were present who loved Pearl like a mother. Even Travyn felt a knot rising up in his throat, though he had only met his aunt once before she was killed during the raid on Chylgroyd's Keep, a death that came as she helped set her half-brother free- Jeaf Oakenfel, the son of Aryl Oakenfel who was born a Wyldwise, and Travyn's father.
Pressing his lips together to fight off the melancholy moment that none of them could afford wallowing in, Travyn summoned the ubiquitous anger he lived with and asked, "Ilya, where are Nyeg Warl's armies right now?"
"They’re gathered on the shores of the Breach Sea that is now no wider than a large river. Most are amassed across from Suskynd in the north where we are. The Elves, Otrodorians, Bjork, and Cassians are getting ready to move against the port city of Belem in the south. The city of Cassiakynd is entrenched behind its fortifications, ready to repel any incursion Port Crown would send its way. Half of the Bro'Noon are stationed there. The rest of my kin have joined the northern army."
"When will they attack?"
"Soon." Ilya'Gar looked at the collection of Neflin and Fane J'Shrym to see how they took this news, and what he saw pleased him. Here were men and elves that would fight just as hard as the Nyeg Warlers would. "In fact, the war might have already begun. It's that close to the tipping point."
"Well, we better find the Broyn'Dar in a hurry. When you placed your hand on my chest, my mother spoke to me and said that my father needs me."
Chapter 4: The Broyn'Dar
In the search for the Boyn'Dar, Travyn divided his company into five groups. Poroth, Ilya'Gar, Bacchanor, Lamarik led groups of their own. The fifth one was his. Candle Wielders were assigned to each of the five to provide protection from any dark magic that might be used against them and to keep lines of communication open between the stragically spaced groups. The Bro'Noon, who were dispersed in like fashion, were instructed to mitigate tensions when contact was made to provide the time needed for the others to arrive
It was decided that daylight would be the best time to conduct the search, since all were new to the area. Though this exposed Travyn and his company to the cretchym that patrolled the skies above the Thrall Mountains, this was considered less of a problem than meeting the Broyn'Dar cloaked in night. As Ilya'Gar explained it this way. Chata’s affects are heightened in darkness where emotions play a greater role in interpreting one's surroundings.
Travyn directed the divided company to scour the environs around a stream bed that he got acquainted with back when he, Lamarik, Kaylan, and Horbyn made their ill-fated attempt to get their hands on Crooked Finger. Since this was the place where Travyn met Arga'Dyne, it made sense to include the adjacent area within their search parameters.
The problem with this was the fact that others were present at the time Travyn met the Broyn’Dar chieftain. There was a dangerous Hag named Scytholar for one, a deadly Shadowman named At'Jak, two Thrall Giants whose huge metal-studded clubs could knock down a wall made of stones with one swing, and a host of hunchman-human cretchym the Hag had created by mixing the Sorcerer’s essence in with the essence taken from the Broyn’Dar.
Meeting those that were friends or allies to any of these would prove problematic in a most serious way. The deadly fight that erupted between Travyn, Kaylan, and the Hag's nefarious band provided evidence for this assumption, a fight the Oakenfels survived because Travyn was able to take the sword he remade on top of Vlad'War's Anvil and summon lightning from a gathering storm, lightning he transformed into a weapon that was used to change the harrowing struggle's balance of power, a feat that Travyn has been unable to repeat. Still, risks had to be taken if Ar Warl's hunchmen were to be found.
The forest at this elevation was populated by large arbors that fed on the heavy mists that lay across the mountain height. Tall pine and spruce were found in abundance with a marbling of aspen groves taking up the slack. Cold-resistant ferns were present along with a variety of hardy brush. Oaks wouldn’t be encountered unless the company moved farther down the slopes.
Bacchanor assumed the shape of a great owl and flew in tandem with Bala along the periphery of the search area. The Brown Wizard left Onorok, a Neflin warrior, in charge of his group when he took to wing. It was this pair that first sighted a lone Broyn'Dar standing in the shadows cast by a large crack found in one of the spine-like rock outcroppings that rose above of the dense forest, outcroppings that were becoming increasingly rare as Travyn and the others moved farther to the east, away from the large gorge that held the Hall of Voyd in its gapping mouth.
The hunchman held his position when Bacchanor flew overhead, but withdrew from sight when Bala appeared, making it apparent that he wanted to avoid cretchym intanglements. With this observation made, Bacchanor returned to Onorok and instructed him to h
ead for the rock outcropping while Bala went off to give a report to Travyn.
Once he apprised Onorok of the situation, the shape-shifter resumed his feathery form and returned to the location of the sighting to keep an eye on the place. Suspecting the Broyn'Dar had company, it seemed prudent that Bacchanor function as a scout for the time being. The wizard didn't want Onorok to have to deal with too many surprises when he eventually made contact.
Jan'Gyn was the name of the Bro'Noon assigned to Onorok's group. Taking the point, he set off for the ridge of stone that Bacchanor was keeping watch over. As he approached the elongated rock outcropping, Jan'Gyn let a huffing bark escape his mouth, one that sounded like a high-pitched breathy, yelp whose volume was measured so that only those close at hand could hear it. It wouldn’t be good if anyone else but the Broyn’Dar heard him announce his presence.
With few trees left to separate the group from the rock outcropping, Jan'Gyn instructed the others to remain where they were as he approached the foot of the stone.
Standing in an area devoid of vegetation, the Bro'Noon crossed his arms over his chest, lifted his head, and continued to signal his benign intentions with the non-threatening barking sound. All the while, he made sure not to show any of his teeth by keeping his lips wrapped over them. With the red and blue paint, the hunchmen wore when they went on raids or set off to find a fight, missing from his snout-like nose and mouth, Jan'Gyn had done all he could to show the hidden Broyn'Dar that he had come in peace.
After a time, a single hunchman stepped out of the crevice’s shadow and growled out his words. "Stop the yapping. You sound like a lost mongrel looking for his owners." The beast-man's snout had stripes of red and blue paint smeared on it. Instead of reciprocating Jan'Gyn's posture where his arms were crossed ove his chest, the hunchman drew a jagged-edged sword from a sheath strapped to his back along with a shorter blade that looked more like a sharpened spike than a knife that was tucked in a wide belt that was affixed to a pair of knee-length pants. A leather vest, left open, clothed the warrior’s torso.
