Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  Unable to escape the deadly rain of sparks, the Fane J’Shrym, on both sides of the river, were being burned time and again by the Fires of Darkness that would, sooner or later, consume them entirely. Only Jeaf, who absorbed the Hammer of Power into his flesh, withstood the burning, as well as his sons who carried the powerful talisman forged on Vlad War’s Anvil. Even Vlad’War himself was badly burned by the Fies of Darkness that would have consumed him in the Warl of the Dead where he lacked the magical bond his Child had formed with the Warl of the Living. Shloman the Great was left in a pathetic heap. Elamor and Aryl stumbled about trying to find each other before they were consumed. Lamarik and A’Kadar were in as bad a shape as Shloman. So too were Deyvara and Vlad’Aeroth.

  Having shape-shifted into a griffin to be able to move across the battlefield with greater speed, Bacchanor had avoided the sparks, as well as Mar’Gul who rde on his back and Bala who flew beside him. The other griffin, invisible and visible alike, and their passengers had been spared too. Since Andara was one of these, he remained untouched as he taxed his magical abilities to the limits to keep the burned Fane J’Shrym from being obliviated.

  “Fight me!” Jeaf shouted at the dragon. “I won’t run. Come and fight me!”

  The Evil One spared only a few moments to look at the man, who would be soon divested of the support the Fane J’Shrym had given him, and fewer words. “Once you’re alone,” the dragon shouted, “I’ll accept your challenge, but not yet, not until I’ve burned the chaff away.”

  Where thunder had been heard at almost regular intervals of late, it now came in staccato like rapidity that sounded like a swarm of dragons was roaring as they chased their prey through the sky. The sound was so odd, the Evil One looked up at the thunderhead out of curiosity.

  What it saw quickly drove its curiosity away: The beautiful dragon had retuned with its horned companion beside it. But this time, they were not alone, two more dragons were following them out of the thunderhead’s dark greenish-black underbelly. One was as black as the Evil One itself, except the spikes on its tail were longer relative to its size; the other dragon was just as beautiful as the first dragon was except the colors on its breast appeared in a different order. Then a third dragon soared out of the thunderhead’s dark underbelly, this time one that was as silver as a sword’s blade. Then a fourth and fifth dragon arrived two heart beats before a whole swarm of the beasts followed, fifty in all.

  The Ice Dragons had come.

  ****

  After the Fires of Darkness had reduced them to vapor, the thunderhead sent out a blast of air that carried Lylah and Kaylan to the Pool of Transition situated high in the Thrall Moutains. Since the Evil One’s magic couldn’t wipe them out of existence, it took what it could get and forced the two to leave the Warl of Man by keeping them from gaining purchase in the place. Having no choice but to use the Pool of Transition to escape the influence of the Evil One’s power that had infected them, Lylah and Kaylan travelled to the Warl of Ice to see if they could reclaim their ice dragon forms. Bursting out of the lake-sized Pool of Transition found in the Warl of Ice, they were ecstatic when they discovered they had wings to carry them high into the frigid air.

  But instead of returning straightway to the fight, confident the Pools of Transition had cleansed them from the Evil One’s defiling magic, Lylah flew into the mountain peaks that jutted up into the Warl of Ice’s steel-gray sky and called the waterkynd to war. As daring as this was, for no waterkynd had ever bypassed the community’s leadership to make such a bold move, the ice dragons were stirred to action by Lylah’s claim that a goar was invading the Warl of Man where Mythoria was found.

  Clothed in the ice dragon bodies they assumed to protect their kin as they melded into one of the many glaciers found in the Warl of Ice and entered a sleep-state that lasted until the time of their rebirth, the waterkynd were already inclined to respond to a battle cry.

  In addition to this, Lylah’s mother compelled Foush to agree to send out waterkynd into all the realms they had access to, to search out the truth of Lylah’s assertion that her mate had been taken prisoner by a goar after he forbade the waterkynd to heed Lylah’s plea for help. As a result, troubling tidings had been gathered. Something appalling was happening in Ar Warl that could affect Mythoria and, by extension, the Realms of Ice, Water, and Vapor.

  Hearing this, the concerned waterkynd had gathered in the Realm of Ice to decide what they should do, if anything. After all, they were beings set apart from the others. As such, it behooved them to remain so. And that might have been easy to do if Lylah hadn’t come Together with a being made of flesh and blood that led many of the Mythorians to think a bond had been created between the waterkynd and humans, though what that bond was, they couldn’t say or wouldn’t even speculate on fearing the ramifications of doing so.

  Struggling to come to grips with things they never thought they would have to, aware they needed to decide a course of action before the war in Ar Warl progressed to the point that anything they chose to do would be rendered meaningless due to its tardy nature, the waterkynd assembly was interrupted by the very ones they were arguing about: Lylah and her mate Kaylan Oakenfel.

  Having listened to Lylah’s description of what was happening in Ar Warl that included how the Evil One had assumed the form of a massive, black dragon that dispensed Fires of Darkness wherever it went, the waterkynd had heard enough. A goar was invading the Warl of Man, and they wouldn’t let that happen if they could help it.

  If it had been Ab’Don alone, the waterkynd wouldn’t have lifted a clawed ice dragon finger to do a thing, no matter that Lylah had come Together with a human. What happened between men was no concern of theirs. But having an invading goar break into the warl where Mythoria was located was an entirely different matter, and the roaring that filled the Realm of Ice’s steel-gray sky made that clear.

  Chapter 24: The Iron Tree

  Swooping down at the Evil One, who threw barrage after barrage of Fires of Darkness at them, the Ice Dragon’s took turns absorbing the sparks’ punishment. In doing this, they adopted a strategy that woud keep them in the fight for as long as it lasted.

  Severely burned, streaming hot vapor as she soared away from the black dragon that had changed from a silent assassin to a roaring monster frustrated by the flock if Ice Dagons who harressed it, Lylah’s mother finished her second run at blocking the Evil One’s dark magic. As always, Loryn was up next. If things went horribly wrong, if Alysha or Loryn was scorched badly enough to be reduced to vapor, they would use the Pool of Transition to return to the Realm of Ice where the two would regain their ice dragon forms before returning to the fight. He same could be said for the rest of the dragon flock.

  As varied as the colors in a rainbow, the ice dragons looked like gems scattered about the heavens whenever a bolt of lightning’s radiance lit up the sky. At these times, those ice dragons that were made of large, transparent ice crystals added an additional touch to the colorful display by casting out rainbows of their own whenever the brilliant illumination passed through their prism-like bodies. As beautiful as the ice dragons were, as majestic as they looked in flight, they were creatures with incredible power who shattered mountians of rock with a swing of their tails, and crunched down the stones they broke away with jaws more than strong enough to do the job.

  With the number of cretchym that remained in the fight, there were enough winged-mutants to keep the ice dragons too busy to attack the Evil One directly. Even with the griffin continuing efforts to thin the swarm, the waterkynd had all they could handle dealing with the continuous flow of Fires of Darkness that the giant dragon was trying to pour on the Fane J’Shrym below and retaliating against the cretchym that continued to harass them.

  ****

  Seeing the freewheeling battle that filled the sky overhead, Jeaf shouted out Grour Blood’s name. Ever since they fought Schmar together in the Cave of Forgetfulness the powerful griffin and Jeaf had become sensitive to each othe�
�s summons. Despite the cacophony of confusing sounds that inundated the battlefield- shouting, screaming, yelping, roaring, thundering and the like- Grour Blood heard the Hammer Bearer’s voice.

  Landing beside Jeaf, the massive winged-lion intoned, “Yes?”

  “Where’s Alynd?”

  “I passed him on to Seym Blood when I heard you.” Grour Blood swung his massive head around to look at the Fane J’Shrym laying in the black mud the rain had created by washing the wraith smoke out of the sky. Though their devastated bodies had regained much of the fluid the Fires of Darkness had burned out of them, there was still much more work to be done to get them strong enough to sit up, let alone stand and fight. “Alynd didn’t want to waste time he needed to dispense Andara’s Tears’ Healing Magic, when time is something the Fane J’Shrym don’t have.”

  “I’m glad he stayed to help the Healers restore my kin. Anyway, it’s you I need,” Jeaf agreed.

  A rumbling growl slipped out of Grour Blood’s mouth as his upper lip lifted to show one of his larger fangs. “If you’re going after the dragon, you’ll need wings.”

  “You’ve read my mind.”

  “Do you want me to carry you or are you planning to grow a pair of wings of your own?”

  “I see Seym Blood told you what happened.” Jeaf looked at the black mud that gathered around his boots as he was lost in thought.

  Recalling the time, he placed his hand on Seym Blood’s head, while drawing on the Hammer of Power’s magic, to shapeshift into a griffin so he could fly out of the Chylgroyd’s Keep’s dungeons, Jeaf planned on repeating the feat he had only done one time to date.

  Jeaf stepped over to Grour Blood. “Once I’ve changed, gather more of the Blood and go get my sons. If we’re going to take the dragon down, we’ll need their swords’ magic.”

  Placing his hand on Grour Blood’s forehead, Jeaf closed his eyes and remembered the times he flew along Stormaine’s towering, crystalline cliffs riding on a griffin’s powerful back. Memories of travelling with the griffin as they caught fish with their long claws joined the Hammer Bearer’s revelry. Feeling massive wings clamping against his legs as they were folded against the griffin’s sides a moment before they plummeted toward the green sea below was the precursor to the sensation of wind blowing against his face and through his shoulder-length hair.

  Instead of shape-shifting straightway into a griffin as the memories of Stromane coursed through his mind like he did in Chylgroyd’s Keep, Jeaf’s transformation was delayed by the scent of Muriel’s hair filling his nostrils, the feel of her body as he held her between himself and the griffin that carried the two through the air, and the sound of her laughter as she was caught up in the excitement of the hunt. The delay wasn’t because the Hammer of Power’s magic wasn’t working this time. It came because Jeaf wanted it to. It came because he didn’t want to leave the memory of Muriel that was more real to him now than the battle that was being fought around him or the rain that fell upon his head.

  Muriel’s voice whispered in his ear: Jeaf Blood, you don’t have time for this or all will be lost. Let me go and become a griffin. Then go kill the dragon and we’ll be together again.

  “Muriel,” Jeaf shouted out his wife’s name in a voice that was as deep and rumbling as any other griffin’s, a voice that brought his mind back to the present with all the horrors it held.

  Pulling a massive paw that had once been a human hand off Grour Blood’s broad forehead, Jeaf’s thick mane swung about as he looked up at the black dragon who had imprisoned his wife, the beast that kept the two of them from being together. Silvery-gray in color, with a mane and wings a much darker shade of gray, the Hammer Bearer’s griffin form reflected the hammer’s hue everywhere except in his amber-colored eyes and three of the claws on his right paw that were as red as rubies. The rest of his fur had a metallic aspect that was as bright as silver reflecting sunlight whenever a lightning bolt flashed through the air.

  Roaring with the rage he felt over all the harm the Evil One had done to his wife, Jeaf shouted, “Get my sons!” before he spred out his massive wings and lept into the air.

  Reaching out, Jeaf used his Mind Ciphering abilities to try and touch Muriel’s thoughts, an endeavor that proved to be fruitless. Had he just imagined her speaking into his mind? Did the memories he was having fuel his imagination to play a trick on him? But iif that was not the case, if Muriel had somehow used the magic she possessed as the Prophetess to reach out to him, she had to be close to pull such a thing off.

  Grour Blood watched Jeaf flying up into the maelstrom of giffin, cretchym, and ice dragons that swarmed about the giant black dragon until a bolt of lightning and an unusually loud peel of thunder reminded him of the task the Hammer Bearer had given him. Identifying the nearest griffin, Grour Blood flew off to get other Blood to enlist in the enterprise he was undertaking. As fate would have it, Shar Blood and Nazar Blood were numbered among these, the two griffin who were Muriel’s best friends, though all griffin were dear to her.

  The Hammer Bearer’s rhythmic breathing sounded like a blackmsith’s bellows used to stoke the coals of a dying fire as he surged upward int the rain-filled sky. With his radiant, amber-colored eyes fixed on the Evil One’s monstrous form, Jeaf didn’t see the horned dragon who was approaching him until it shouted, “Father, is that you?”

  Frowning at the beast that was the color of star’s blood, Jeaf replied with a question, though he had been told what his son looked like when he assumed the ice dragon form. “Kaylan?”

  “Aye Father, it’s me.” Kaylan’s long tail swung about like a bullwhip put into action. “Have you come to fight the Evil One?”

  “I have,” Jeaf spoke as he continued to fly toward the giant black dragon.

  “Then we shall fight the monster together.”

  “You’ll not fight as a dragon.” Jeaf’s rumbling voice was easily heard by the horned dragon that flew beside him. “I need your sword. Go fetch it and look for the griffin Grour Blood is sending to carry you into battle. Three other Blood will be carrying your brothers. Join them and hurry back. I’m convinced your swords will do as much damage as my claws and teeth will.”

  ****

  Frustrated by the the ice dragons’ relentless strategy to make it empty the reservoir of magic it was tapping into, for there was no such things as limitless power when it came to the Warl’s Magic, the giant, black dragon was surprised when a griffin got in line to take a turn blocking the Fires of Darkness it was dispensing. If the griffin wanted a taste of the dour medicine it was spooning up for the waterkynd, the Evil One would gladly oblige the winged-lion since it planned on sending all of the Community of Blood into the dark abyss anyway. So why not begin now?

  Slapping his wings together, the gigantic, black dragon sent a shower of sparks rushing at the silvery-gray griffin with the bright amber-colored eyes. As Fires of Darkness hit the foolishly bold winged-lion like a massive handful of blazing hot gravel had been thrown by a giant as big as a mountain, the griffin’s body lit up with blue light where the sparks hit it. A moment later, the dreadful sparks disappeared when their magic was unexpectedly used up shortly after impact.

  Not a hair on the griffin’s massive body was singed let alone burned. And instead of flying off enveloped in steam like the ice dragons did, the enraged winged-lion roared and attacked the giant, black dragon.

  The Evil One felt pain for the second time in the battle. The first time was when the noisome elf blew the fiend’s dragon form to pieces with the fire-blasted golden sphere of his. Silver-colored claws as long as daggers were the culprits this time.

  Using his forepaws to keep the griffin away from its eyes, the giant dragon felt like he had fallen into a thorn bush as it struggled with the pest who had the hubris to attack him. With four swordsmen, astride swift griffin joining the winged-lion as it slashed away at his black skin, the thorns became exponentially more problematic. To its utter astonishment, with blue flames racing along their razor-
sharp edges, the blades the swordsmen wielded cut through its skin and into the muscles beneath.

  The Hammer Bearer’s here, you bastard. And if I don’t miss my guess, his sons are with him.

  The Evil One frowned as Ab’Don’s thoughts entered its mind for the first time since it had taken possession of the Sorcerer’s body. What did this mean? Was it losing sway over the man it coerced into agreeing to let it possess his body until his mortal wound was healed, a healing that would never occur? Were the claws and swords that cut at its skin also attacking the magic used to create the giant dragon’s body? Would Ab’Don be able to insert his influence into matters if the ancient entity’s magic was diminished enough? Could it actually lose control and in the end be bested by the man it had come to dominate?

  Casting the concerns aside that assailed it like a pungent fragrance had entered its flaired nostrils, the Evil One thought: If the man thinks that calling me a bastard is insulting to me, he has no idea how I came to be. None of them do, not the Hammer Bearer and his sons, nor that awful elf. But they’ll all learn enough to wish they had never met me, especially Ab’Don if he thinks the griffin and the swordsmen are his unwitting allies. He may not know it, but he’s mine for eternity.

  Directing its thoughts at the man that was imprisoned in the recesses of its being, the Evil One said, I’d be quiet if I were you. Those you think can help you will fail as miserably as you have in dealing with me. When they do, I’ll remember your taunts. Then I’ll not leave you be as I’ve done so far. I promise… you won’t like what I do to you. You’ve seen what the fraethym have done to others. What do you think they’ll do if I take the restraints off them?