Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  At the same time, Pearl attacked the Lorn Fast Wraiths who had been harassing Ay'Roan and J'Aryl. Carrying a vaporous long knife, the magic she possessed in her role as Mar'Gul enabled her to cut the wraiths apart much like their claws could dig into her if they gained purchase in her ethereal form. Since she had been a fighter in the life she lived before she became the instrument for perpetuating Andara's Magic, Pearl's expertise was too much for Cara Lorn's foul children to handle, even those who had been soldiers.

  Taking their cue from Pearl, Bala and Dog went to protect the surviving rebels as best as they could. Dog stood beside Bacchanor to protect Jeaf, while Bala swooped over the Shadowmen making those who neglected to notice her presence pay for their oversight. Time and again, her needle-sharp sword stabbed down into an assassin's exposed neck. Wounding more than it killed, the slender blade was an effective deterrent to the Shadowmen's movements and helped keep them corraled for the inevitable lightning bolt that would finish the job the diminutive, green cretchym had begun.

  Discovering that the white-skinned Malamor were repulsed by the Hammer of Power's touch, Jeaf drove those that had fallen under the Spell of the White Hand back far enough that the lightning could strike them without harming any of the rebels who stood near him.

  By the battle's end, every Hag, Shadowman, and Malamor had been destroyed. Even the wraiths fled back to the safety of Cara Lorn, all in tatters after Pearl's swift blade had finished with them. As a result of this, The One Who Was Not Ab'Don was left with piecing together the Malamor's chaotic thoughts it had taken time to gather before they were destroyed to figure out what had happened.

  As things turned out, the Hammer Bearer wasn’t the only one who experienced a nightmare that night: The Sorcerer was left to ponder one of its own. What were the shining blue swords the Malamor tried to tell it about? Where did their magic come from? How were they able to make lightning do their bidding? Did they conjure up the storm in the first place? Could they do so again, say over a battlefield the ancient entity stood on? If they did, how would it counter their magic? Though doing this was not beyond its reach, what strategy would the Evil One use to do so?

  Then the Sorcerer remembered the sword Kaylan had strapped to his hip, the blade that resisted all of its attempts to remove it from its sheath. With all the power at its command as both a lord of the living and the dead, he couldn’t separate the sheath from the young man's side. And it certainly wasn't going to pull Crooked Finger out of Kaylan’s chest to see if this made a difference.

  I'll deal with the sword later, the foul entity promised itself. I need his mother. And if I end up killing the human just to uncover the mysteries surrounding the sword, I'll be throwing away the bargaining chip I plan on using to get my hands on Muriel. The Prophetess is the key I need to unlock the door separating my empires. With her unwitting help, my lovely dark realm that sits in the Warl of the Dead will spill out into the Warl of the Living. And when that happens, nothing will keep me from scaling the Mountain of Song's heights and claiming it for my own.

  ****

  Bacchanor's Healing Song had stopped a moment before he stepped from the bedchamber carrying a guitar with elf-runes sitting between the frets on the instrument’s delicate neck. "We've done all we can for now. Both are out of danger and will recover from their wounds," the Brown Wizard explained to those in the crowded greatroom.

  Following Bacchanor out of the room, Grayce added, "Davyn and Deyvara are asleep now."

  Next to exit the chamber, Ay'Roan nodded at those who were attending the meeting, acknowledging their presence. The shimmering blue light that danced on the edge of the sword he had used to support Bacchanor's Healing Magic, was already disappearing as he slid the blade into the sheath that was affixed to his belt.

  Sounding relieved, Ay'Roan said, "A few more applications of Healing Magic will get them and the other wounded back on their feet."

  Two of the rebels had been killed in the Battle in the Pasture, as people were calling it. Four more sustained wounds. Grayce was covered in bruises. But as she claimed: She was not worse for the wear.

  The two who had been slain would be honored in a ceremony that would conclude with their bodies being placed on top of a funeral pyre. All those living in Shtytl would attend. Afterwards, their ashes would be thrown into Shtytl Creek so they could be dispersed throughout Ar Warl.

  The corpses of the Hag, Shadowmen, and Malamor were tossed into a shallow cave where they were left to rot. The rocks used to seal the cave's mouth were scarred with runes that warned passerby's to leave the stones alone.

  "Let's get down to business," Vlad'Aeroth said as he looked at the three disembodied spirits who stood among those gathered. Even though Pearl was dead, the Wylder had to fight the impulse to defer to her leadership. After all, she was Mar'Gul when she was alive. Since no one had taken her place, in the Fane J'Shrym's thinking, she still was.

  Once his ethereal cousin smiled at him and nodded for him to go on, Vlad'Aeroth relaxed and posed the question that was uppermost in everyone's minds: "How did the Hag find us?"

  "I have a theory," Bacchanor said after coming to stand beside his wife's spirit. "As we were making our way to Shtytl," he was refering to his companions that included Travyn, Lamarik, A'Kadar, Arga'Dyne, Ilya'Gar, Bala, Dog, and others, "we met those who reported that at least two other Hag-led groups of comparable size were seen moving through the Great Ral Mountains. By implication, this tells us that Ab'Don didn't know where the Hammer Bearer was hiding or else he would have combined his forces with those that found their way to Shtytl.

  "But this doesn't answer Vlad'Aeroth's question, does it?" Bacchanor chuckled when he saw impatience in Pearl's vaporous eyes. "Once one of the hunting parties got close enough to the Hammer Bearer, I believe the Hag were able to home in on nightmares that I suspect they’ve planted in Jeaf's mind."

  "Ashes!" Jeaf's despondent exclamation was spoke under his breath. Shaking his head in disbelief, he added with a louder voice, The Hag spells are like worms digging their way into my brain. I can feel them moving inside my head, filling me with fear and uncertainty, making it hard to determine what’s real and what isn’t."

  "The spells can be removed," Bacchanor tried his best to sound confident.

  "How long will that take?" Jeaf threw an attitude at Bacchanor that he didn't deserve. "The Hag had five winters to entrench their work inside me. I doubt the spells wil be easy to find and probably twice as hard to remove."

  "That's why we need Muriel's help." Pearl's voice sounded like it had travelled down a long hallway made of stone before it entered the greatroom. "The Song of Breaking's magic can dislodge the Hag spells. Once broken loose, Bacchanor can extract their influence. So," Pearl's form had taken on a more substantial aspect as she spoke, "I plan to go and fetch her for you."

  "How will you do that?" Ay'Roan didn't know what his father was already guessing.

  "She's going to take your mother Flying." Jeaf looked stunned by the prospect of seeing his wife so soon as he spoke. “I once Flew from the Warl of the Brie'Shen to the outskirts of the Lorn Fast Swamp where the Warl of the Neflin is found. Surely you remember me talking about this when I told you and your brothers the story of the Battle of the Oak Tree?"

  "We remember," J'Aryl answered before he fleshed out the story his father had told them. "You went Flying after Grandfather fought..."

  J'Aryl paused as he considered what he was about to say. The son of the man Aryl had fought was sitting in the room with him right now, a fight neither combatant survived.

  Seeing Vlad'Aeroth shrug, J'Aryl finished what he was going to say, "...Garyth. When Grandfather fought Garyth."

  Not only was Garyth, Vlad'Aeroths' father and Poroth's grandfather, he was Pearl's uncle. And it was a duel, not some random brawl, a duel Garyth had forced Aryl into fighting to satisfy his need to take revenge on the man he blamed his sister's death on.

  Unbeknownst to Aryl, Pearl was conceived during the only ti
me he had been intimate with Sari Wyldwise. He had never thought of Sari, who was his best friend and partner in crime, in that way before that night.

  Because it was the eve before Aryl planned to leave Ar Warl and go to the Nyeg, there wasn't time for him to consider what their moment of indiscretion meant. As close as their friendship had been, Aryl thought the affection each had for the other was inflamed and misdirected by the prospect of his imminent departure.

  Little did Aryl know that Sari loved him in the way a woman loves a man. In all the time they had spent together, and on all the raids where they had protected each others backs, Sari had never found the courage to tell Aryl how she really felt about him. Valuing his friendship as much as she did, Sari didn't want to risk losing the close relationship they had by asking for more. Then, on the verge of losing him forever, Sari spoke to Aryl with her body in a way she hadn't been able to with her words.

  The next morning, as Aryl swung his travel pack up on his shoulder, he turned to Sari and said, "About last night..."

  "Don't worry Aryl," Sari replied. "You didn't take advantage of me. I'm the one who wanted that to happen." Then she foolishly added, "Off with you. The Nyeg awaits."

  Knowing how important going to Nyeg Warl was to Aryl, she didn't want pressure him with her own needs.

  "Come with me," Aryl took her hand as he spoke.

  "You know I can't leave my family."

  Truly saddened by Sari's persisting on refusing the offer he had made before, Aryl accepted her answer and said, "Friends now. Friends forever. "

  "Forever." Sari repeated but one word as she watched the man she loved move off through the greenwood that covered the Black Mountians' northern side.

  If Aryl had known Sari loved him the way she did, he would have forestalled his journey. It would have been cancelled if he had known she carried the beginnings of a child who would later be given the name Pearl inside her. But as young as Aryl was, and given his lifelong dream to go to Nyeg Warl, he was blind to something that should have been obvious.

  Years later, when Aryl returned to the Ar as he accompanied his son on a quest to find Andara’s Tears, Garyth, Sari's brother, confronted him with what he had done to his sister. Thinking Aryl had taken advantage of Sari, though she swore it was the other way around, Garyth challenged Aryl to a duel to get justice for Sari dying in childbirth, a duel that ended both of the men's lives.

  Vlad'Aeroth shrugged again as he said, “It’s all water under the bridge.”

  Even in her vaporous form, Pearl could be seen frowning as she studied her cousin's face. She had never completely divested herself of the guilt she felt for being the cause of both her father and uncle's deaths even though her intellect told her otherwise.

  "Vlad'Aeroth and I have lost much." Jeaf spoke with conviction. "And though our sons don't realize it, since they never met their grandfathers, their loss is just as great."

  "Tell me about Flying." Ilya'Gar thought it wise to redirect the conversation.

  "I too want to know," Arga'Dyne added though he didn't share the Bro'Noon's concern for the others’ feelings. To him, a duel had been fought. Two men died upholding their honor. Their children held no grudges. The matter was closed.

  Humans and elves, Arga'Dyne thought, who can figure out the way they think. Fight when it's time to fight. Talk when it's time to talk. How hard is that to understand?

  Still, with the apparent differences between them, the Broyn'Dar chieftain was amazed that he and his mate were so readily accepted by the humans that surrounded them, especially by Travyn's father and brothers. The Ar Warlers, who tried to emulate the ease that the Oakenfel's displayed around the hunchman, still kept their guard up as history said they should. Change took time. Trust was earned.

  After Bacchanor explained Flying in simple terms, Poroth asked, "Why not send Jeaf to Muriel? Wouldn't that be an easier solution?"

  "Good question," Bacchanor replied with a smile. "We considered this for a time until we recalled that the Hammer of Power went to great lengths to get Jeaf to come to Ar Warl. Funny enough Poroth, you’re the reason why Vlad'War's Child did something as drastic as forcing the Hammer Bearer's hand."

  "Me?" Poroth snorted over the idea that he was so important.

  "You and the rest of your Fane J'shrym kin, Vlad'War's descendents as it were, the ones who can tip the balance of power away from the darkness to the light with the help of the Hammer Bearer and the talisman he carries. Poroth, it's vital that Jeaf and the Fane J'Shrym stand together in the war he’s told us has already begun. To separate you now would be foolish indeed."

  "Since the Hammer Bearer can't go to the Prophetess, the Prophetess must come to the Hammer Bearer." Pearl's ethereal voice added weight to her words. "Only the Song of Breaking can completely wash the filth out of Jeaf's mind."

  "The filth my wife refers to lives in Jeaf's dreams. It seeks to weaken him when he sleeps. As we learned during last night's battle, the Hag who confronted Jeaf was able to pull him into a nightmare of the wizard's making as he stood on his feet. We can't allow this to happen again. How will Jeaf be able to direct the Hammer of Power's magic on the field of battle if he doesn't know if what he is seeing is real or not?'

  Rings of amber light flared in Travyn's eyes before he spoke. "Bacchanor, how was the Hag's fire-blasted candle able to control the Hammer of Power?"

  "I don't think it controlled the Hammer of Power as much as it prevented the talisman from gathering momentum. It's easier to keep a boulder that’s at rest from tumbling downhill, than it is to stop one once it's already rolling. Still," Bacchanor rubbed a hand through his thick, curly, brown beard, "the Hag’s feat is disconcerting."

  Switching from his beard to his head, Bacchanor rubbed his hand through hair just as thick as his beard's, though less curly. His reddish-brown eyes took on an intense aspect as he looked Travyn directly in the eyes, undaunted by the rings of amber light sitting there. "Storm Master. You and your brothers put on quite a remarkable show. What else can you boys do with the swords you carry?"

  "I didn't conjure up the storm, if that's what you're thinking," Travyn admitted as he lowered his head in thought. His hat’s brim covered his eyes as he did. "I just took advantage of its power. Things might have turned out differently if the storm hadn't showed up when it did."

  "But it did show up, twice now, when you needed it to." Arga'Dyne and Shala'Dyne's laughter had feral undertones that caught the others' attention, even Ilya'Gar.

  Travyn grimaced knowing Bacchanor had thrown fuel on to the Broyn'Dar's fire. Lamarik's ears picked up as she noted her mate's response. An amused smile bred by her own feral instincts soon followed.

  Responding to the Brown Wizard's inquiry, J'Aryl stepped into the conversation and told Bacchanor how he and his brother had used their swords to amplify the Candle Wielder's magic during the past day's training session. Wanting to be thorough, Travyn followed this up by telling the astute wizard how he had used his sword to command fire to do its bidding when he fought the hunchman-human cretchym at the place where the Hag were creating the mutants.

  During the silence that followed the explanations, Vlad’Aeroth said, "We need to get prepared for the other hunting parties that are out there. I doubt Ab'Don will call his dogs off."

  "To the contrary," Bacchanor calmly replied. “Ab'Don is smart enough to guess that we've discovered the nature of the spells the Hag planted in Jeaf's mind by now, a discovery that will see that his sleep is well warded to keep the Hag from gaining access to his dreams. With war erupting in the west, the Sorcerer will need to consolidate his forces to meet the enemy that is pouring into Ar Warl. He won't chance suffering another loss like he did last night.

  "Vlad'Aeroth, increasing the number of guards you post will suffice for now, as well as expanding the area your scouts are given to search.

  "Wylders," Bacchanor spoke to both Vlad'Aeroth and Ay'Roan, since Vlad'Aeroth had insisted that Jeaf's son be given the honor of sharing his respon
sibilities, "send word to all who are Fane J'Shrym and to the Neflin and tell them it is time to gather at the prescribed place so that the Prophetess and Hammer Bearer can lead us to war."

  "Aye, Wizard!" Vlad'Aeroth stood as he spoke.

  "War!" Arga'Dyne's enthusiasm was matched by his mate who joined him in growling out the proclamation.

  The others stood and repeated Vlad'Aeroth's words. This left only Jeaf and Grayce in their seats.

  Slowly rising to his feet, Jeaf unholstered the Hammer of Power and twirled it in his hand to make certain the last of the Hag's magic had fallen away. Feeling the unadulterated magic the talisman radiated, he finally said, "Aye, Wizard." And when he did, the room was filled with an outburst of shouting and snarling.

  When the exuberant response was over, and those gathered had splintered off into side conversations, Grayce said to no one in particular, "Fire-blasted war." Then she stood and went to tend to her injured husband and daughter.

  Chapter 13: Well of Souls

  Muriel's tent sat at the center of Nyeg Warl's forces like it was a flower's pistil and the kings' encampments were petals that would destroy anyone or anything that tried to get past them to reach her. Soldiers from Eagle's Vale, Wyneskynd, Hadram, Plagean, Shomeron, and Verdant Deep were numbered among the lethal petals, as well as Woodswane, Forest People, Bro'Noon, and Tayn’waeh warriors that were ensconced in their own encampments. The Bro'Noon were flanked by companies of Cragmar and Clay Giants.

  An assemblage of elves from Forest Deep, who set up their tents around Muriel's own, played a more direct role in keeping her safe. Candle Maker and Candle Warrior tents were closer still. The pride of griffin who slept on the ground with their bodies brushing up against Muriel Blood's tent, provided protection from an airborne assault.

  All in all, the Prophetess was safe from any threat that might rise against her, save an all out attack led by the Sorcerer himself. But all of these things- the camps of warriors and the enclaves of Magic Wielders- were part of the corporeal warl; not so the one who slipped unnoticed into Muriel's dreams as easily as she did into her tent.