Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  With the arrival of the new day, all were surprised to find a huge mountain was filling the entire horizon, one that rose high above the Nortslyk Range that stretched across Ar Warl’s northern reaches. Its top was covered in billowing clouds where the flashing lights appeared. In time, they would learn that the Mountain of Song had come to the Warl of the Living, or at least a vision of the place was presented in a dramatic fashion that all the erstwhile warring parties could see. As expected, the sight of the magical place had a profound affect on everyone, filling those who saw it with an expectation of better things to come. After all, the vision was the antithesis of a threat. Instead, it was a portent of hope, and a clear sign that Abb’Don was truly vanquished.

  Goldan, who had arrived shortly after Jeaf and the Evil One were swept off into the Warl of the Dead, took charge of the group of ambassadors who would be sent to Ar Warl’s kings. Tsut’waeh and Tsayn’Wyle were numbered among these, as were Elamor and Dolfon. The commander chose to not include the kings to make certain that none of Ar Warl sovereigns would think their counterparts had ambitions of expanding their own rule.

  Having the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer visit each camp before the ambassadors were sent out, laid down the groundwork for the coming negotiations whose theme would focus on new beginnings for everyone. Though history would not be forgotten, it would be relegated to the past in a way that would keep it from unduly affecting the treaties that would be made.

  Seeing the man who fought the Sorcerer up close- for as large as Jeaf had become, all would know what he looked like despite his returning to a normal size after the fight- would set the table the way Goldan wanted. With the strongest among them telling the kings that they would retain their thrones, and their subjects their lands and buildings, the fear of being plundered was greatly assuaged, though not clearly removed since this was Ar Warl, a place where guile and deception had come to be expected.

  There would be laws to follow, laws that applied to Nyeg Warlers and Ar Warlers alike, though the exact shape of those laws would be determined by the sovereigns themselves with oversight from the Candle Makers of their choosing.

  To ensure their rule, the kings had to disavow the Dark Arts and promise to institute laws that would keep the rich from taking advantage of the poor and the strong taking advantage of the weak. The laws were intended to help Ar Warl crawl out of the swamp of darkness and despair the Sorcerer had cast it into, a place where fair play was a byword and justice was a concept only deluded philosophers and daydreamers entertained.

  Goldan, who took an instant liking to Bala, gave her the job of meeting with the surviving cretchym and working out a plan for them to live in a warl they were ill-suited for. The Community of Blood put their services at her disposal to both keep her safe and ensure the task was completed to her liking. Dog would go with her. A’Kadar was asked to stay with Lamarik since his feral presence might alarm the cretchym more than the griffin would who had the ability to speak.

  Pearl asked Bala if she could accompany her, so they could spend time together before she, Andara, and Lamarik made their way to Cara Lorn where the mantle of Mar’Gul would be transferred to the Neflin and she would complete her ourney to, as Jeaf now called it, the Warl of the Hereafter. As always, Bacchanor was never far from his wife.

  ****

  After Shaw and his son, Beryl, found Goldan, the three entered a tent where Bear and Ily’Gar were splitting a jug of ale between themselves, a split that decidedly was in the giant’s favor.

  “Do you mind if we join you?” Goldan asked the two without hesitating to enter the tent.

  Seeing Shaw and Beryl, who was named after the giant because of the friendship that developed between Sahw and Bear after the Battle of the Temple of the Oak Tree, accompanying the Tsadal Commander, Bear laughed and said, “Sure. But before ya sits down. Grab tha other jugs over there. Ya three can splits it, while I finishes this one.”

  After a time where the five shared things they experienced in the war, with Bear being given enough time to tell the others about the battle that took place in the Warl of the Dead, Goldan looked at Shaw and and Beryl and said, “I guess all of Credylnor must have thought I was crazy to leave the Tsadal Valley to go traipsing around off with a young stranger who claimed he was the Hammer Bearer.”

  “About as crazy as they thought I was when I named my son after a Cragmar Giant,” Shaw said after taking a sip of the warm mug of ale he was nursing.

  “That ain’t crazy,” Breaking away from wondering how Shaw could sip on his drink as slowly as he was, Bear looked up, surprised that the Tsadal people might think so. “Is its?”

  “It is if you live in Credylnor,” Beryl replied. “But don’t worry about that, Bear. I’m honored to have your name. Besides, there’s hundreds of Tsadal warriors who followed here. You’ll meet every one of them so they can get good look at the giant my father thought so much of that he named his son after him.”

  “Ashes,” was all Bear said in reply as he rubbed the back of his thick hand across his round nose like he did when he was embarrassed.

  “What do you think Credylnor’s historians will write about us, since most of the Tsadal people missed the war they’d been preparing for, for hundreds of summers now?” Goldan truly wanted to know what Shaw thought.

  “You’ll probably end up being a Tsadal champion and Torqanor vilified for keeping others from following your example. I’ve seen how politics works. No one paints themself in dark colors. Neither will the historians write about the Tsadal blindness. Rather, they’ll point to people like us to prove our people didn’t fail.

  “I’m sure they’ll sieze on the fact that you were made Commander of Nyeg Warl’s combined forces to highlight Tsadal virtues. In my thinking, only good can from the example you set for our people. But for that good to take root in our valley, you mustn’t stay away.

  “Goldan, come back if only for a visit and bring your friends with you, especially those who live in Thundyrkynd. It’s time the Tsadal pull their heads out of the sand to see the gifts that the Warl’s Magic has given to other people: be it humans, giants, hunchmen, or elves.

  “The foresight you displayed by recognizing Jeaf when he was still wet behind the ears is inspiring.”

  “The foresight you displayed in accepting Muriel as the Prophetess when the elders wanted you to engineer her death is equally inspiring,” Goldan replied.

  “Don’t forgets,” Bear frowned as he spoke, “I saw Jeaf first. Why I was standing by his sides fightin tha Societies of Truths while you two was holed ups in your valley.

  “Goldans saw Muriel first, I’ll gives him that, but it was me who saws Jeaf first.”

  “Bear, this isn’t a contest.” Beryl was amused at the fierce giant’s unwarranted insecurity. “We all know the important place you’ll have in Nyeg Warl’s history.”

  “Well, I guesses I’m big enough ta shares Jeaf with a few others.”

  “With the way you’ve been eating lately, Bear, you’ll end up being big enough to share the fire-blasted Hammer Bearer with all creation.” Ilya’Gar growled out his words.

  Bear laughed so hard, he nearly fell sideways to the ground he was using for a chair. “I guesses your rights about that.”

  The giant’s faced glowed with the warmth his personality always exuded as he saw the others were enjoying the joke as much as he was. Then he added, “Hey Shaws, you done with tha drinks of yours?”

  The giant’s quip filled the room with another round of laughter.

  ****

  The Mountain of Song remained visible until negotiations were completed. On the morning it could no longer be seen, the last of the ice dragons took to the air and headed for the Pool of Transition found in the Thrall Mountain heights that would take them back home. Not long afterward, Muriel, Jeaf, their sons, and their sons’ mates were flying on the backs of the huge griffin that were taking them to Stromane. A’Kadar stayed with Dog while Lamarik was away.

  �
�Little sister, we’ll we be home soon,” Grour Blood’s rumbling voice rolled over Muriel and Jeaf as they watched the ice dragon’s reflections flickering in the green sea below. There were two of them: one was as beautiful as a rainbow appearing after a heavy rain; the other was the color of star’s blood and sported a set of impressive horns.

  “I can’t wait,” Muriel said as she turned her gaze back to her children. Ay’Roan and Deyvara, riding on Seym Blood’s back, acknowledged her with a wave. The rings of amber light in Travyn’s eyes could be seen beneath the brim of the hat he refused to take off despite the amount of wind that was buffeting him. Thor Blood let out an excited snarl beneath him. Lamarik, riding Shar Blood, laughed at her husband who was still sulking about her insisting on riding by herself so she could better savour the trip to Stromane. J’Aryl began to whoop as he spurred Nazar Blood on. Kaylan snapped his long tail like a bull whip pushing a team of horses on to greater speed. Lylah just looked at her husband with a wry smile on her face.

  Looking ahead, Jeaf tried to catch sight of the island’s towering white cliffs that looked out on the sea they were travelling over as he mulled Grour Blood’s words over in his mind. Muriel thinks of Stromane as home, he thought. Where’s my home: Mishal Parm where the Fane J’Shrym are resettling, the School of the Sword and Song where Muriel and I spend most of our time, the School of the Candle where my mother lives?

  Leaning against his wife who sat in front of him, soaking up her warmth as he did, a gentle smile crossed Jeaf’s face as he thought, I’m already home.

  There is a love within the warl that can calm the tempest tossed,

  And mend the breach and heal the wound that evil powers have caused.

  It is sweet love and only love that can lay foundations strong,

  Upon which castles of stone are built to undo the ancient wrong.

  The Hammer Bearer will find his love and with his courage heal,

  Her broken heart and innocence that evil men did steal.

  Together they will face the night and the wicked wind’s onslaught,

  And overcome the dragon’s fire until justice has been wrought.

  Though swords may clang and arrows fly and threaten to destroy,

  The hope of peace, the light of day within the warl of joy,

  Their love will rise like dawn’s new day to drive away the dark,

  And break the spell and crush the heads of all with evil’s mark.

  One destiny, two visions intertwined like ivy on a wall,

  For a three-strand cord can’t be broken by the darkness of the fall.

  Embraced in each other’s loving arms they will fight forgetfulness,

  And usher in Parm Warl’s resplendent light in the coming age of bliss.

  The Prophecy of the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer

  The End

  If you enjoyed this book, please send some of your magic my way by submitting a review.

  About the Author

  Born with a vivid imagination that longed to express itself in more ways than a good conversation would allow, it was only natural that Rex Hazelton found himself writing. And what type of books would he write? Seeing he chose the Hobbit as the vehicle he would use to transport his four young boys to a world where they discovered the endless possibilities found in a good book, it's not surprising that the fantasy genre came to the forefront.

  An entertainer at heart, and a storyteller by inclination, Rex Hazelton used the experience of writing Battle of Nyeg Warl to scratch an itch that remained unattended to for far too many years. And once he began scratching, the itch just grew worse, for he has completed Books Two and Three of the Chronicles of the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer, entitled Tears of Andara and Vald’War’s Anvil that will soon be released to the e-pub world. The last book in the series, entitled Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead, has been written and is in the process of being edited.

  Though the impetus for writing the Chronicles of the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer is essentially the same one that motivates most people to share stories around the proverbial campfire, the womb that gave birth to the tale is found in the author's professional past. Serving as an educator and counselor for all of his life, the hardships Rex has seen people face and then overcome gave him the inspiration needed to create the Warl and the panoply of characters who live there.

  If you would like to contact Rex to discuss the Battle of Nyeg Warl or the other books in this series, his email address is rexhazelton2@gmail.com.