by Rex Hazelton
And as her sons shouted back "NO, WAIT," the sphere's dimming light flickered like a firefly in flight and disappeared. But before it had time to vanish entirely, Jeaf shouted again. "I LOVE YOU TOO!" and with that said, Muriel was gone.
Bellowing, "NOOOOOO," once more, Jeaf lifted the arm that was quickly absorbing the Hammer of Power into its flesh and made a fist he wanted to strike the warl with, hoping to shatter the place that had brought him so much pain, a warl where the bitter was drastically outweighing the sweet on the scale used to measure life's value. But before he could complete his destructive act, a man dressed in black armor stepped up to him and said, "If you do that, you'll destroy the bowl, ensuring your wife won't be able to return, at least not here, and maybe not to any of the bowls found in Ar Warl. Who knows what Vlad'War's Child would do to the magic used for Flying if you unleash its might in your present state of mind?"
Dog had assumed his human form, becoming Rybara once again to accentuate his words. The son of one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived, the man covered in black armor’s words would not be easily ignored.
With his sons supporting the warrior whose eyes were as blue as a cloudless sky by saying, "Father, please don’t." Jeaf slumped to his knees and continued to weep.
****
As Jeaf and those who sat astride mounts they were ready to ride off on waited for the rest of the Fane J'Shrym and Neflin to return from patrolling the greenwood surrounding the stone-lined bowl, Rybara retained his human form so that he could share the insights he had gathered over a life that was as long as Ab'Don's had been before the Evil One took possession of his body.
"Having Flown with Mar'Gul as much as I have," Rybara carried his black-plumed helmet in the crook of his arm as he spoke, "I believe Ab'Don, if that’s how we are going to refer to the monster who has taken control of the Sorcerer's flesh, would be able to feel the sphere's dissolution if the Mar'Gul had interrupted the Flight to change passengers.
"Recall the pressure you felt just before the vessel arrived here. A measure of the same force can be felt in each of the stations used for Flying whenever the magic is employed. Though most wouldn't be able to sense this from a distance, I'm convinced Ab'Don could. Remember, he was able to intercept the Mar'Gul's vessel in mid-flight, a feat that to my understanding has never been accomplished before."
"I find little comfort in what you're saying," Jeaf admitted through lips drawn tight by the pressure he was feeling.
"Though I would comfort you if I could," Rybara was not offended by the Hammer Bearer's brusque response, "my words were meant to explain Mar'Gul's unwillingness to end her Flight."
"Comfort is a luxury few will receive in the days we live in." Vlad'Aeroth looked at Jeaf knowing they had a shared history of suffering since each of their fathers died as a result of a duel they fought with one another during the Hammer Bearer's quest to locate Andara’s Tears. "Now is the time to examine the field of battle that lies before us and ascertain the resources we have to fight a war that none can escape."
All paid attention to the Wylder who spoke as the Fane J'Shrym warlord, a position he shared with Ay'Roan, even Jeaf, whose inner turmoil fought to overwhelm him. Vlad'Aeroth's assessment of the situation was a welcome addition to the things Rybara had said.
"Your wife chose to give herself to the Sorcerer in exchange for Kaylan's life, an exchange that will be completed once Muriel takes her sons place on the fiery tree Travyn says now stands in the Hall of Voyd.
"As we all know, if Ab'Don wanted to kill Muriel he could have taken her life by scuttling the vessel the Mar'Gul Flew." Vald'Aeroth's ink black hair made his facial skin appear to be paler than it actually was. "From the things that history tells us, as well as Travyn's report on he and his brother's attempt to get their hands on the talisman called Crooked Finger, I am certain that once the iron branch is taken out of from Kaylan's chest, it will be put into Muriel's."
"By all that is holy," the sound Jeaf made as he spoke was more of a growl than clearly audibilized words, "this can’t be happening."
"You freed her once from the Sorcerer's fire-blasted tree." J'Aryl looked so much like his mother it made Jeaf's heartache even worse. "And you accomplished this all by yourself. Now you have sons who have magic of their own to help you do it again." J'Aryl quickly slid the sword he forged atop Vlad'War's Anvil out of its sheath and raised the razor-sharp blade so that his father could see the blue flame enveloping it.
"Aye," Rybara said as he leveled his piercing, blue eyes on the Hammer Bearer, "I can’t help but think that the thing living in Ab'Don's body wants to keep her alive so it can use her to open a door to the Warl of the Dead where his true seat of power is found."
"That makes sense." Lamarik's ears picked up when she saw the others turn to look at her. But instead of being put off by the unexpected attention that was given to her, Lamarik added. "With Lorn Fast Wraiths loosed in the warl as they have been, it's clear the thing that’s wearing Ab'Don's flesh wants to summon more of its power into the Warl of the Living. No doubt, the tree Kaylan hangs on has a part to play in this." Lamarik studied Travyn for a moment before continuing. "It wouldn't surprise me to find out that the Evil One gave its design to Ab'Don in the first place, since he was the one who wanted the Sorcerer to send Muriel's spirit to him in the Warl of the Dead while keeping her body alive in the Warl of the Living."
"You're saying my mother has become a bridge that spans the magic that separates the Warl of the Living and the Dead?" Amber rings of light flared as Travyn spoke.
Jeaf's eyes blinked as he tried to sort things out. "That's what the teachers at the School of the Sword and Song have been saying all along, and those at the School of the Candle as well. Marta said that's how the spirits of Otrodor's deceased monarchs were able to follow Muriel and me to the Temple of the Oak Tree when we escaped from the Evil One's presence in the Warl of the Dead. But no one has been able to fully explain what all of this means.
"As for Crooked Finger... I thought Ab'Don took it with him, as he fled after the Battle at the Temple of the Oak Tree, so he could use it to threaten Muriel's life if we were to ever confront him again."
"Is Muriel not the Prophetess who sings the Song of Breaking," Rybara said as he looked at Jeaf's sons and those who were mounted beside them. "Has she not brought the dead back to life? Ab'Don knows this too. What is the limit of Muriel's power? Does she even know? No wonder the Evil One wants to get his hands on her."
"She is Muriel Blood, the Griffin-Woman." The wonder filling Ilya'Gar's voice made the Bro'Noon's words come out as smooth as a bard singing before a king. "You're right: Ab'Don doesn't want to kill her."
"We’ll help you free your mate," Arga'Dyne showed his teeth to emphasize the words that sounded like gravel was being spewed from his throat.
Ay'Roan turned from the Broyn'Dar chieftain to look at his father as he spoke, "Mother isn’t alone. Bear is with here."
"Grour Blood is there too," Ilya'Gar added.
"Don't forget Bacchanor and Pearl," Travyn continued to build the list.
"And don't underestimate Bala." Rybara put on his helmet as he began to transform back into Dog. "I've seen that little cretchym do things you wouldn't believe are possible."
Once Andara's son's desolving form had rearranged itself into a massive, wire-haired hound, Dog barked so loud that all of the horses were startled by the sound and A'Kadar was set off on a moaning jag that didn't help the riders get control of their mounts.
****
The vessel used for Flying slipped through the fabric separating the Warls of the Living and the Dead at greater speed than it had previously attained. The pull the Hall of the Voyd exerted on the vehicle Mar'Gul captained was responsible for this increase.
Looking stunned by the brief encounter she had with the husband she had not seen for more than five winters, Muriel's face tightened as she sat down and allowed Grour Blood to wrap a wing around her. Eyes filled with moisture that would never
become tears if the Prophetess had her way as she fell into a reverie that focused on Kaylan, though her husband and her other sons provided the accroutement that made the experience a feast her troubled mind fed upon, a feast that focused on memories as dear as life itself. Still she would not cry, not when she had to steel herself to the task at hand, not when she was about to stand before the Sorcerer who had imprisoned her son.
Giving Muriel time to sort out her emotions, Bacchanor finally broached the subject that couldn't be ignored. "We're on our way to the Hall of Voyd. Is there any chance that we can Fly out of there once our vehicle is dismissed?"
"Only if Not-Ab'Don lets us," Pearl's ethereal voice intoned.
"If he doesn't," Bear's rumbling voice filled the sphere's interior, "we'll fights our ways out a there and takes Muriel and Kaylan with us."
Turning to look at the others- glad that their conversation gave her the excuse she needed to leave the more debilitating emotions behind, for sorrow would only weight her down in the coming struggles- Muriel explained. "I wish it were that simple, Bear. With Crooked Finger thrust into Kaylan's chest, that won't happen. The trade has to be made. And once it is: there'll be no escaping for me, not unless you think you can defeat the Sorcerer when he stands at the source of his power surrounded by all the dark wizards he has at his command."
"He'll not let any of us go," Grour Blood's eyes blinked lazily as he spoke, belying the fire that filled his stomach, "unless the entity's arrogance is so great he thinks doing so poses no threat to his plans."
"Then there mights be a fight." Still keeping his arms above him like he was holding the sphere's roof up, Bear managed to lower his hand far enough to give his large, round nose a good rubbing before he continued. "If it comes to that, I ain't leave'n withouts Muriel."
"Don't think that I don't appreciate your concern for me, but you'll leave me behind if Kaylan needs you to get him out of that place." Muriel insisted.
Studying the giant's massive dimensions, Bacchanor added, "I think I can shapeshift into a griffin big enough to carry Bear if it comes to that, though I can't say how fast I'll be able to fly."
"If he can swing that big club of his while sitting on your back," Bala chimed in, "his brawn can make up for a lack of speed. Either way we'll have to fly through a swarm of cretchym to get away."
Silence followed Bala's words as each calculated the forces that awaited them. But none were distressed. They had already made peace with the demands that the ensuing war would impose on them. The fact that the chances of making the ultimate sacrifice had been magnified by their predicament held no sway over them. Their commitment to the Prophetess and her family, as well as their distaste for the Sorcerer who had hurt so many innocent ones saw to that.
Looking to each of her friends in turn, Muriel broke the silence by saying: "I'm sorry you've all been pulled into this. And the magnitude of the gratitude I feel for you is beyond description. Still, I ask that you do whatever it takes to see that my son gets safely away from the Hall of Voyd. If you do this, I will be eternally grateful."
Having been imprisoned in the Cave of Forgetfulness like Muriel, Bear could uniquely sympathize with the Prophetess who would never leave a loved one in such a place without doing something about it when it was in her power to do so. "We beat Schmars together." The giant's locks of hair swung about as he nodded his huge, round head. "We'll beat Ab'Dons too."
"Muriel Blood, don't worry, we'll get Kaylan out of the Hall of Voyd." Grour Blood tightened his wing about Muriel as he spoke.
Muriel looked up and smiled at the griffin who had, long ago, saved her from the river-children that were trying to take her back to Schmar's subterranean chamber of horrors after she fled from the odious place. If anyone could make sure Kaylan escaped his captor, it was the massive griffin. But she was not completely helpless in the matter.
"I'm not so certain that fighting is inevitable," Muriel turned from her winged-guardian to look at the others.
Lifting her hand to display the magic ring her father gave her at the time of her birth, Muriel went on to explain: "Once Ab'Don learns that I've placed a spell on the ring that will force it to take my life if he plays the rest of you false, the Sorcerer could be persuaded to let you Fly out of the Hall of Voyd, though I'm certain he’ll put measures in place that will keep you from returning by this means. He wouldn't want the Hammer Bearer popping into his thrownroom unannounced."
"Will your father's ring heed your command?" Bacchanor inquired.
"It doesn't matter. The Sorcerer will feel the ring's power. I doubt he can understand its nature. The uncertainty the monster will have to wrestle with can give you the advantage you need."
"Were you wearing the ring when Ab'Don first thrust Crooked Finger into your heart," Bacchanor asked.
"No. And I'm certain that Ab'Don's memories will tell the Evil One this. The ring came back to me after Jeaf and Grour Blood carried my spirit out of the Warl of the Dead."
Rubbing his thick, curly, brown beard, Bacchanor went on to say, "With the ring now on your hand, things could play out differently this time. I think your right: This will throw a measure of uncertainty into the Sorcerer's thinking that we could take advantage of. More than that, you'll have resources at your disposal you didn't have when you were first exposed to Crooked Finger's magic."
"What if the Sorcerer demands that you part with the ring before he gives up Kaylan," Grour Blood asked.
"I won't comply. You all are too important to me. And I won't leave you and my son completely exposed to the Evil One's whims."
"What if he kills Kaylans?" Bear frowned as he waited for Muriel's answer.
"Then I'll kill Ab'Don and shut the door the foul thing used to gain access to the Warl of the Living."
"How?" Grour Blood searched for an answer that would give him clues to the part he would have to play in the assasination attempt.
"I'll sing the Song of Breaking. I doubt the Hall of Voyd's magic can dispell all of its power. And even if it can, I doubt it'll be able to do so quickly." Muriel's redish-brown eyes took on the aspect of polished stone as she spoke. "Before that happens, I'll ride the crest of the song's magic and fall upon the Sorcerer when it crashes upon our enemies."
"I'll keeps the Hags busy as you does the killing," Bear smiled as he made his promise. He liked the idea of being able to dispense destruction at the heart of Ab'Don's empire.
"We'll all be with you Muriel." Bacchanor placed his hands on his knees in the way he did when a matter was decided in the council meetings he was often asked to attend both in Nyeg Warl by the kings that ruled there, and in Ar Warl where his wisdom came to be valued by the chieftain and clan leaders he met when he accompanied Mar'Gul as she completed her rounds. "Who knows, maybe the damage we'll do before we die, will be enough to turn the tide of battle in Nyeg Warl's favor."
"Don't think I don't like the idea of you shedding that body of yours and joining me when I take leave from the Warl of the Living," Pearl rubbed her husband's arm with a touch as light as a gentle breeze, "but its not certain that any of you will die if our goal is confined to destroying Ab'Don's corporeal form and then fleeing."
"I never likes fleeing," Bear frowned as he spoke.
"Don't worry." Bacchanor responded to his friend's remark. "In a best case scenerio, you'll have plenty of time to use your club before we get out of the Hall of Voyd. I don't think the Hag and the cretchym will be amenable to letting us go even if their lord's body is destroyed. By now, they must realize who it is they’re serving. Sending the Evil One back to the Warl of the Dead will not end their allegiance to the foul thing, nor will it put an end to the war that is quickly gaining momentum."
"So it's settled." Grour Blood sniffed before encapsulating their conversation. "We'll take to wing and fly out of the Hall of Voyd with either Muriel or Kaylan with us. And we'll fight as we have too.
"But I swear to you Little Sister," the huge griffin's lip lifted his lip to reveal one of his d
agger length fangs, "if we leave you behind, it won't be for long."
"I know you'll return with the entire Community of Blood with you and try to set me free." Muriel tugged on Grour Blood's mane as she had done a thousand times before.
"There'll be no trying." Bear sounded like a parent scolding their child as he spoke to Muriel. "There'll only be doings. I swears that too you," the giant added as he nodded at Grour Blood.
****
A sudden jolt followed by the sensation of incessant tumbling told the company of travellers that their time Flying was coming to an end. Tossed end over end, as the luminous sphere came to an abrupt halt, was most disconcerting since all knew the Sorcerer and the Hag stood nearby.
If they had been tricked into coming to the Hall of Voyd so the One Who Was Not Ab'Don could kill Muriel, she and her companions found themselves in the unenviable position of being thrown off their guard by the turbulance inherent to Flying's conclusion. Was it possible that the Sorcerer lied about his ability to scuttle Mar'Gul's vehicle and send it plummeting into the Warl of the Dead when he intercepted the craft as it carried Muriel to the place where Jeaf waited for her? Was this display of impressive magic only a ploy to get Prophetess close enough for the Sorcerer to stick a dagger into her gut?
Considering this possibility, the company of travellers thought it an unlikely prospect. Aware of Travyn's report that said Ab'Don had taken Kaylan captive and not killed him off hand, they decided that they had no choice but redirect their Flight to the Hall of Voyd. Still, the thought that the Hag would attack them before they had time to regain their balance was troubling indeed. So, all readied themselves for the unknown as the tumbling turned into extreme sloshing before it calmed down to the gentle swaying motion one would feel standing aboard a large sailing vessel making its way through a sea filled with modest swells.
While the swaying abated to a swirling motion reminiscent of a goblet of wine being induced to release its aroma to a waiting nose, the area around the Flying vessel was suddenly engulfed in utter darkness. This made the shreds of flames racing across the sphere's surface seem brighter than they really were since they were losing their potency only a little less slowly than the vessel was losing the inertia it had gathered while it Flew.
