Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  With a wary eye on what might appear in front of him, Jeaf had no choice but to trust that Vald'War's Child wouldn't slam him into a rocky spire that was taller than what was expected.

  A sigh of relief came from the hammer’s unwilling passenger as it broke through the mists' roof. But as high as Jeaf was, his relief was short lived.

  Skimming across the top of a blanket of thick vapor, the Hammer Bearer was overwhelmed by the sight of the peaks that were tall enough to thrust their heads above the cloud's undulating surface.

  It's so cold, he thought, surprised that the brilliant sun's warmth was less effective here than beneath the canopy of mists he had flown through. With the tallest peak approaching, Jeaf wondered if this was the Hammer of Power's intended destination. That made sense to him, and right now, he needed something to make sense.

  As if it wanted to affirm the logic its passenger was trying to make of things, the Hammer of Power increased its speed, so much so, that Jeaf was forced to brace himself for impact with the approaching peak. A handful of heartbeats before this happened, the talisman abruptly slowed down and allowed inertia to swing Jeaf's feet toward the cliffface where it planned on depositing him. Once the Hammer Bearer's body passed the Hammer of Power, the talisman synced its movements with its passenger's momentum and guided him to a stone shelf that was two body lengths short of the summit.

  What was the Hammer of Power up to? Why had it brought Jeaf here? Was there a reason or had the Hag magic that Vlad'War's Child was subjected to, as the black-robed wizards attempted to extract its power in Chylgroyd's Keep, warped it? Was the Hammer of Power as destabilized as the one who wielded it?

  The idea that this might be true was unsettling. Still, Jeaf felt a measure of comfort to think that the powerful talisman had suffered as much as he had. The Brotherhood of Shared Suffering, a wry smile accompanied this thought.

  "Well, Brother," Jeaf addressed Vlad'War's Child like it was a sentient being, "why have you brought me here? Maybe a better question is: Will you take me back? I'd sure hate to have to climb down the mountian you dropped me on."

  The canopy of of vapor surrounding the rocky peak began to separate at a point on its outer edge. Like cloth being torn apart, the swirling mists continued to be rent asunder until a broad channel of unobstructed space could be seen below the Hammer Bearer's feet. Cutting its way through a landscape made of cloud, the channel, as wide as the G’Nyrly Cove that the twin cities of Thundyrkynd stood guard over, looked like a vast inlet of unhindered space that emptied its contents into a sea of clear sky that stretched out to the distant western horizon.

  Other mountain ranges rose up into the cloudless expanse beyond: the Black Mountains were seen in the distant south; the Thrall Mountains rose up in front of Jeaf’s left hand; the Nordoc Mountains, with Chylgroyd's Keep sitting at its easternmost end, rose up on his right.

  Jeaf was surprised that he could see things so far away and in such great detail. Cities, villages, herds of animals, glistening rivers came into focus when the Hammer Bearer looked in their direction. Off to his left, Jeaf could see the top of the Hall of Voyd, rising above the lip of the gorge it was built in.

  Kaylan is in that place, Jeaf shuddered to think his son was a prisoner like he had been. The longer he stared at the Sorcerer’s citadel, the more detail he could see. In time, he could identify the types of cretchym that wound their way through the sky above the hall: four were beetle-human mutants; four were a mix of vulture and human; four were variations of dragonflies; a swarm of smaller mosquito-like mutants hovered beneath the larger cretchym.

  More details emerged as Jeaf's gaze focused on the loathsome place: balconies could be seen jutting out of the slender, impossibly tall towers; thin cables of some kind were strung between the towers like spider webbing that lacked a specific design; the towers, whose tops where nearly white, took on a gray cast that darkened the closer they came to the base they were built on.

  The Hall of Voyd proper was hidden inside the gorge. That's where Jeaf imagined Kaylan was being held. With his vision being enhanced the way it was, Jeaf wondered if the magic that was aiding him could go a step further and make it possible for him to see through the walls themselves so he could find Kaylan.

  But this wasn't to be. So, Jeaf pulled up a memory of Muriel hanging on the iron tree Ab'Don conjured up in the Temple of the Oak Tree when he thrust Crooked Finger, as the slender iron branch was being called, through Muriel's chest and into her heart. Gasping for breath as the weight of the recollection bore down on him, Jeaf took Kaylan's image and placed it over his wife's. Then he envisioned Crooked Finger sticking out of his son's body. Gasping for air again, Jeaf felt a stab of pain go through his heart like the Sorcerer had thrust the slender, iron talisman into his own chest.

  J'Aryl's voice was heard wafting over the mountain top. "It's not a good idea to see what our talisman's can do? That doesn't make sense?” Jeaf’s youngest son sounded incredulous that his father was reticent to find out what the Hammer of Power was capable of doing. “It would be foolish to wait and try to figure things out in the heat of battle."

  "Battlefield?" Jeaf let the picture of Kaylan's body, hanging on the iron tree, slip to the back of his mind. "That's it. The channel through the clouds isn't aimed at the Hall of Voyd. It's aimed at something else."

  Following the path through the canopy of mists that spred out beneath him, Jeaf lifted his eyes and saw a city. Malam, he thought. This was Ab'Don's childhood home that lay north of the Hall of Voyd, half way between the Thrall and Nordoc Moutains.

  As important as Malam was, the Hammer Bearer's attention was drawn farther to the west, out beyond a vast stretch of rolling grassland, to another city.

  "Suskynd!" Jeaf said as the city, still smoldering from a recent conflagration, came into focus. As before, more details were seen the longer he focused on the same place. A longboat was being consumed by flames as it drifted aimlessly on the Malamor River that fronted the city walls to the north. More longboats floated nearby. Some had been blackened by fire. Many had there rectangular-shaped main sails up and were moving about like they were patrolling the waterway. Others, with sails lowered and sterns resting on the shoreline, were docked beneath the city walls.

  In time, the massive encampments surrounding Suskynd were noted. The Eagle, Bull, and Wolf Kings' banners flew above these.

  Nyeg Warl has attacked Suskynd and Muriel is with them, Jeaf surmised before he took a long breath and said, "The war has begun."

  ****

  Jeaf's trip down the mountainside was no less harrowing than his journey up the rocky slopes. Utterly subject to the Hammer of Power's whims, all he could do was lay hold of Vlad'War's Child with his free hand when it plucked him off of the stone shelf he had been standing on and try to minimize his flailing about like he was a wind-tossed banner. Not choosing the path he took, nor speed at which he travelled, the best the Hammer Bearer could do was try to gain a modicum of control over his body as it was pulled along by the willful talisman.

  In time, he found himself being unceremoniously deposited before the large crowd that was anxiously waiting for his return. Stumbling as Vlad'War's Child set him down in an opening that appeared as the onlookers hastily moved aside, Jeaf reached down with his free hand to brace himself against the ground that was rising up to meet him.

  When the Hammer Bearer extricated itself from the forearm it was wrapped around and resumed its original form, Jeaf took a moment to compose himself before he requested that Vlad'Aeroth, his sons, and the village elders come forward.

  Once the leaders who were present in the crowd complied, Jeaf spoke loud enough for all to hear and said, "The war has begun!"

  After the crowd had been given time to vent its emotion, Jeaf took time to describe the experience that brought him to this conclusion, but not in detail; he kept the feelings of helplessness he struggled with to himself.

  Chapter 12: Blood and Relatives

  With all the nightmare
s Jeaf was having, a special evening had been planned long before the Hammer Bearer flew off to the mountaintop. The positive affects that Jeaf's immediate family had on his questionable state of mind provided the rationale for the gathering that Grayce facilitated. A family reunion of sorts was taking place in the street outside her home. Seven strategically placed braziers supplied the light needed for the night's affair. The wine that was served was well watered down to ensure everyone's wits remained intact, while providing enough warmth to keep the atmosphere comfortably congenial.

  Jeaf's uncle and aunt were seated at the table opposite him and his sons. His grandmother was nestled deep in the furs covering a chair positioned close to one of the braziers. As old as she was, Doryn had a hard time keeping her frail body warm.

  This was Aryl's family, though none called themself Oakenfel. These were Wyldestone's all. Once called Brie'Shen, they had recently assumed the name their ancestors were known by- Fane J'Shrym.

  "You look like your father." Boyd spoke about the brother he last saw alive when they were both young men, though he did see Aryl many winters later as his body lay on top of funeral pyre.

  "You look more than bit like him too," Jeaf replied. In fact, if not for the perennial frown branded into Boyd's face, his appearance was so similar to Aryl's that Jeaf could easily think he was talking to an older version of his father.

  "Aye, I do." Boyd's frown deepened before he continued. "But I'm nothing like him. He was a dreamer. I was the practical one who made sure his little brother didn't stub his foot when his head was in the clouds. As they say, 'Nose to the sky, toes in harm's way.'" Boyd Laughed. "Nose and toes, get it?"

  "Nose and toes," Aunt Rayns replied as she rolled her eyes. "I haven't heard that one before," she added with poorly hidden sarcasm.

  "Come on," Boyd protested in a half-hearted way, "you criticized Aryl too."

  "Aye, you're right. But I criticized him for leaving, not for the reasons why he left." Bannyr and Doryn's daughter wouldn't do that, since her parents were the ones who gave their son the material he used to construct his rationale.

  "Boyd." A voice that sounded younger than the one who had spoken was heard. "Mind yourself lest you belittle your father in the eyes of his grandchildren. Ayrl was a good man."

  "I agree that he was a good man, but not a great man."

  "Being a good man in Ar Warl is a great accomplishment." Doryn's eyes were amber in color like Jeaf's; her hands were a feminine version of his own if the protruding veins, knots, and wrinkles that came with great age were dismissed. "Boyd, you're a good man too. Don't belittle your brother or yourself. Ar Warl's evil gained little purchase in your lives. I'm proud of you both."

  "Thank you, Mother," Boyd's smile was a weary one. "But I know Aryl was the apple of your eye because he loved prophecy as much as you do and Father did."

  "Aye, Aryl and I were much alike; but I didn't love him any more than I love you." Doryn shifted her shoulders to look her son straight in the eyes. "Here me son: Aryl took the name Oakenfel, but you're the true oak tree in our family. That's why Aryl left and you stayed."

  "Mother, if you were a man, you would have done the same thing Aryl did."

  "Aye, you're probably right." Doryn put a hand to her mouth to cover a cough. "The part of me that wanted to escape the Ar and join those in the Nyeg who wanted to fight Ab'Don was poured into Aryl. But when he left, that part of me went with him.

  "Boyd, I didn't stay in Ar Warl because I had to. I stayed because I wanted to. In spite of what you think, my love for you, Rayns, and your father is greater than my love of prophecy. Besides, the Fane J'Shrym are here in Ar Warl. Your father and I knew Aryl would return. He had to. That's why your nephew is here and the Nyeg is standing on the Ar's doorstep."

  "I must admit," Boyd took Jeaf in with an appraising eye, "all of Aryl's talk of Fane J'Shrym seemed ridiculous given how much suffering the name has brought to those who use it. Why would we want to take hold of something that would certainly bring the Sorcerer's wrath down upon our heads if we did? For all the good that name has done us, let Ab'Don keep it. Why do we care what he calls himself?"

  J'Aryl cleared his throat to signal his desire to speak. Since everyone turned to look at him, he did just that.

  "Uncle," he began, "There is little consequence if Ab'Don calls himself and his subjects Fane J'Shrym as long as it doesn't prevent those who are truly a part of Shloman the Great's bloodline from accepting the resposibilities that come with being his descendents."

  "And those responsibilities are?" Boyd's frown deepened once again as uncomfortable memories of conversations he had with his brother surfaced. Ashes, the boy sounds just like Aryl.

  "To stand with the Hammer Bearer when he confronts Ab'Don," J'Aryl replied as he pointed at his father. "And here he sits."

  Without pausing for a response, J'Aryl added, "Humor me as I flesh this out."

  "Go ahead, put the meat on the bones if you must," Boyd said with a wave of his hand. It seems we didn't get rid of my brother when we lit his funeral pyre. By the looks of things, Aryl lives through his children.

  "Thank you Uncle," J'Aryl lowered his head in a show of respect before he began.

  "Don't thank me." Boyd's frown softened more out of resignation than willing compliance. "I learned early on in life that there was little I could do to stop my family from sharing their view on things, even if those views were based on scant more than a fortuneteller's prognostications. Since it's obvious that your part of my family: I humbly defer to you."

  "Be careful Boyd," Doryn chided her son, "or Aryl's grandchildren will think you're nothing more than a cranky old man."

  "Cranky when young," Rayns laughed as she spoke, "cranky when old."

  Not taking offense at his mother and sister whom he dearly loved, Boyd sighed as replied, "Aye, It seems I haven't changed much, have I? Go on J'Aryl; I'll give you an open ear."

  "Thank you all." J'Aryl didn't make the mistake of separating Boyd from something that was clearly a well-engrained family dynamic as he began. "Moved by foreknowledge, Vlad'War imbued the Hammer of Power with magic that would be needed to combat darkness in a time when it threatened to utterly extinguish the light, amazingly enough, a time that arrived well after his children and his children's children had lived their lives.

  "Moved by his prophetic instincts, the wizard hid the powerful talisman he had created in a place that was beyond the Sorcerer's reach. Did Vlad'War anticipate the Warl being torn asunder to form the Ar and the Nyeg, one can only guess. But as fate would have it, the Hammer of Power ended up in Nyeg Warl where the one who found it could learn to use its magic without the Sorcerer's full might coming to bear on him.

  "This is where your brother comes into the story: By leaving the Ar and coming to the Nyeg, my grandfather brought the Fane J'Shrym bloodline to the place where Vlad'War's Child had been hidden. And lo and behold, his son ends up being the one who finds the Hammer of Power at the exact moment he needed its power to overcome Laviathon's magical fire."

  Boyd couldn't stop himself from asking, "Where was the hammer hidden?"

  Jeaf spoke up here. "Vlad'War buried it in the ground beside the Eyrie River and planted an oak tree on top of it. By the time Laviathon attacked Alynd the Elf-Man and I as we were be carried along by the Eyre River’s current, the incessantly moving waters had worn away enough ground to expose the oak tree's roots. Ironically, Laviathon dislodged the last of the rock and soil that hid the Hammer of Power from sight when he struck the embankment with his massive tail in a display of anger."

  "Then what happened?" Boyd was enthralled with the tale that was being told.

  "If you must know, Laviathon's fire reached me before I could lay hold of Vlad'War's Child and sorely burned me." Jeaf grimaced at the memory. "But when I did catch hold of the Hammer of Power's handle, the talisman's magic saved me."

  Doryn's laughter drew everyone's attention to her. "Well don't that beat all Boyd? Vlad'War hid his hammer
under an oak tree. Can't you see: Aryl's the hammer and you're the oak tree? Without your strength none of this could have happened. Your brother would never have gone to Nyeg Warl if he couldn't trust you to take care of the family that he always planned to return to."

  "Nose and toes." Rayns playfully rubbed Boyd's face into his own words. "You old oak tree, the hammer has returned to its roots."

  "That's well and good," Boyd didn't dislike what he heard, "but how's a few thousand Fane J'Shrym going to help your father defeat the Sorcerer and his hundreds of thousands. As far as I can tell, only a few hundred of us have a chance of learning how to use magic- less if you subtract the Neflin- and none of these can fly except Aryl's boy here."

  It was Jeaf's turn to laugh. "I didn't fly. Vlad'War's Child hauled me through the air like I was a pail of water scooped out of Shtytl Creek and poured me out on the mountaintop where it showed me how the war had begun."

  "Why are you telling me this? You're mistaken if you think admitting your limitations wiil make me feel better," Boyd admitted.

  "I'm answering your question." Jeaf looked unruffled by his uncle's difficulty in following his train of thought. "Need and chance are the teachers who have taught me how to use the Hammer of Power's magic. At times, like today, the hammer itself has been my tutor; and like today shows, I have more to learn. If my guess is right, the Fane J'Shrym have to be present for my education to be completed. I've come to realize that the Hammer of Power is not mine alone; it's somehow connected to all who are Fane J'Shrym; and its full power won't be realized apart from them."

  "Just today," J'Aryl was excited to share his discovery, "Ay'Roan and I discovered that the swords we remade on top of Vlad'War's Anvil can enhance the Candle Wielder's magic." He went on to explain what had happened in that afternoon's training session.

  After hearing the tale, Boyd narrowed his eyes to add affect to his witty reply. "Don't go sticking your sword in me to see what happens." The touch of humor was his way of telling the others he was starting to feel comfortable in Aryl's children's presence.