Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  A hooded figure issues from the ground as if the earth spat him out. No sooner does he step upon the ground, then, it is followed by another two; dressed in the same ominous hooded cloak. Now, three are gathered around the crack in the earth with faces hidden. The ebony black of their garments is even darker than the night they find themselves. Slowly, they create a circle about the opening—chanting something unrecognizable and mysterious.

  The ground shakes, as another figure shoulders its way out of the earth. The most stout hearted would falter at the sight of the hideous hairy beast emerging from the depths. Once free of the earth, it stands over three meters high. If one of the hooded figures stood upon the head of another, the creature would still be looking down at them.

  Great arms that could snap a tree trunk swing loosely at its sides. The head appears to sit squarely upon it shoulders with the absence of neck to support it. He reaches into the hole and pulls out an immense club made from the knurled bole of a petrified tree.

  Even though it is a monstrous being, it bows to the hooded figures—visibly shaking.

  One of the robed figures pulls his hood back revealing an ancient man with a shaved head. The skin across his skull is marked with intricate tattoos. The ink appears alive and seems to swirl about his head and down the neck. The large rings in his ears, the lack of eyebrows deem him one of the Druids who follow the old ways of evil and death. His voice is old and crackles as he talks to the others. He is Edalvin, leader of the Druids and one of the Council of Ten.

  “My brethren, what is written in the runes upon the stones of this sacred place and foretold in the stars is coming to pass. We grow strong again. Our numbers have gained a thousand-fold over the eons. This world will once again bend to our rule, and the mortals will sacrifice themselves to us willingly.

  Once we were mighty and without equal. Now our dreaded enemy we thought dead and turned to dust has returned to this realm. Our nemesis the Maiden Witch lives! The sorceress has escaped the death sleep, and the tomb where she lay hidden. She roams the land free and untouched.

  Our ally Urel Irgini the Druid priestess and sister of the White Witch failed us. She allowed the Maiden to escape from the Dragon’s Grave.

  Those followers of the light were captured later at Yerin by King Borin’s soldiers and brought to his dungeon. Now it seems she has escaped them as well.” In anger, he strikes one of other the hooded figure across the chest sending him staggering. The other druid does nothing in offense, but return to the circle—head bowed.

  The Druid leader shakes his head. “Your sacrifices have been unworthy Bellock—the Gods are laughing at us. They support the quest of the Maiden. To win their favor again, we must tilt the Golden Scales of the God Solmantra to us.”

  The tattooed leader tells Bellock. “Send the Shadow Clan to gather more women and children to be worthy sacrifices.”

  Edalvin is quiet for a time and then speaks again. “Word has come upon the wind the White Witch is forming an army of warriors. Several have already joined her ranks. We know little of who or where they hail.

  She still carries Katana which slew many of us during the last days of the great battle. We attempted, but could not destroy a sword the Gods had forged. As it is charmed to her hand only, none could wield it without being consumed by fire. We buried it with her.

  Now it seems one of her number holds Helixx the Earth Sword. Whether she knew where it was or by happenstance found it, we have no answer. With the power of the two united enchanted blades, the Maiden will wage war on us, and our allies, the Gastalon Horde.

  This White Witch vowed many years ago to destroy us all and rid the land of our power. We have been reading the stars, and the seers tell us a great battle between the shade and the light will soon come upon us. The Maiden and her warriors must be defeated quickly before they grow stronger.”

  The strange beast stands there and listens to the Druids without making a sound. He perks his head up when the leader looks to him. “Ragnot—it is time for you to do what I have set upon you.”

  Unblinking blood-red eyes stare at the Druid Edalvin. His lips move, but the words are forced from that hideous mouth. “I hear master Edalvin and obey.”

  The leader of the Druids smiles at the thought of the undertaking he is about the command this servant. “You must not fail the task I have given you. Only return when you have slain the Maiden Amari. Bring me her head and sword. It would be better for you to be killed at her hand than to return defeated.”

  From the folds of his robe, Edalvin retrieves a small green crystal. He places it in the massive hand of the beast. “This will help you locate your quarry. The gem will change to the color of blood the closer you are to the Maiden. Be warned, she is a witch with much power and can do many spells. It would be a simple task for her to fool one such as you. Hear my words. You must attack from behind with speed and no sound of alarm.”

  The large beast snarls and bows as best as he can before the assembled Druids.

  Edalvin points into the night of the forest. “Go beast! No rest for you until your task is completed, and your club drips with blood of our enemy.”

  Ragnot turns and runs into the forest. His retreating form is quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

  The Druids raise their hands to the sky, praying to the gods that the beast will find the witch and end her existence. Only then will their rule of this land be solidified. They are joined by others from the entrance in the ground, and their supplications go on until dawn.

  Edalvin speaks to the gathering. “Once where we thought to be rid of the sorceress, she has returned as a bane to the evil we create. It has been many years since she was sent to the half-sleep. All the while, we few surviving Druids have been converting others to join us. Those of us who survived the long-ago battle formed the Council of Ten. Since then, our numbers swell, and we are near the size before the Maiden Witch decimated us to only a handful.”

  Their ritual done, they retreat down into the earth. Again, the sound of stone grating upon stone disturbs the stillness of the night as the altar of the Druids slides back, covering the entrance to the catacombs below.

  The beast has not looked back, but continues running and looking for the ones he must kill. His master put the quest upon him to destroy the White Witch and any others that oppose the Druids rule. He was born from the earth and the fire that spews from the dark mountains. The magic of the ancient ones he serves put the spark of life into his body. His sole purpose was to attend to the Druid’s wishes. He has killed countless those who the druids deem their enemies.

  For many days has the beast roamed about the countryside in his quest to find and slay the enemy of his master. The crystal now on a chord about the beast’s club remains ever quiet during his wanderings.

  On the fourth day, the gem comes to life…subtle at first, then to a light tint of red. Ragnot runs forward through the meadows and farm lands. The magic tool of the Druids returns green. He stops and runs back the opposite direction. The red glow returns. His small brain not built for too much independent thought, does not realize he is headed back toward the Fire Woods.

  Cresting a hill, the band of warriors is confronted by a dense forest below them. Wisps of smoke rise above the tree tops.

  Natsha is the first to speak. “Behold my friends, the famed Fire Woods.”

  “Sister” asks Dian. “Why so named?”

  “Legend tells the last of the Druids; a small band retreated there after our Amari’s fighters defeated them. The wood is supposed to have been cursed by the Druids so none may enter but their own kind and those allies so deemed by them.

  Somewhere deep within lies the Druid’s lair. Although, this is only one of several fables repeated by Tellers, drunken men, and those who wish to scare others. So many say it is just a tale, but I have read of it in the ancient manuscripts collected by my father.”

  Amari closes her eyes and waves her hand in the air back and forth as if searching, not only with her
body, but with mind as well. “What you say is truth Natsha. There is shadowy spells at work here. The forest is not cursed. However, it is under a dark magic. There are those within the wood who wish to hide. I cannot sense any Druid presence, but that may be masked as well.

  We must go around the forest, as we are not ready for battle yet. Truk is still recovering, and our bodies need rest and food. Those distant sounds of hounds have been with us for several days now. Even though my magic hides our trail, the king’s men are everywhere. It will only be a matter of time before we are discovered.”

  Truk speaks up. “Do not care about my person Maiden. Leave me here and let me die fighting those who track us. I am only slowing your escape.”

  Gareth slaps the dwarf on the back. “Be still large one. We are trying to keep you alive!”

  “Gareth is right my old friend. We leave no one for the meat of another’s sword. We will continue our path and find Mimna. You spoke of her at the Three Cities of the Black Angels.”

  “Yes my Maiden. Mimna told me where the wonderings would take her. It was ages ago—before the time of my capture and languishing in the dungeon. Mimna may not be there still or passed on to her ancestors.”

  “I would think that your old friend would be safe among those she calls kin,” says Dian. “I too have heard of this land above the clouds called Skye. It is said it is where only the foolhardy venture and those who thirst for riches believed to be high in the mountains.

  In order to gain the summit, one would have to start at the base of the three peaks. For those foolish enough to try climbing up the heights, they have never made it, or returned to tell the tale. No one really knows what awaits above as none have come back to reveal its mysteries.”

  Natsha nods her head. “It is a true accounting Dian tells us. I have also heard the tales and read of those who witness skeletons lying about the base of the peaks. Their lifeless bodies crushed as if falling from a great height. No one has ever gained the top. Yet Truk, you say that this Mimna is one of those Black Angels. Is it possible that she can come and go from there as she pleases? Amari, does your magic see through the clouds and to the land above?”

  “No Natsha. Whatever exists above the clouds is hidden from me. It does not feel like magic. It may be some other natural earth enchantment to mask its presence from intruders.

  We have tarried here too long. Let us go to the hill country and bypass this place of fire and evil.” I look to the woods as we head away, keeping a measurable distance from the fringes.

  I can feel a presence I have not felt in many a year. It is the stench of a Druid. They may indeed still exist—hidden among the trees which shed fire.

  Chapter 10 – The Ring of Labyrinth

  After many days of travel, in the distance, we can see our goal. The time it took to arrive at this spot involved circling on our back trail to see if any were in close pursuit. Now we are within a day’s walk of our objective.

  The three peaks rise straight up from the valley floor and disappear into the clouds. The skies all about are clear and blue. Except around the peaks where the clouds seem to cling to the mountains—unmoving. The white puffy mists seem to linger there as if held by a magical force. The tops of those sheer mountains are masked to all those below.

  “There,” Amari points. “There is our objective!”

  Gareth follows Amari’s pointing finger. “A fair amount of formidable land is between those mountains and us. It looks to be about a good day’s trek to reach the base of those peaks. Amari, we need to plan how to get up there when we are closer.”

  “Yes, scheme and plan we will Gareth. First, a suitable and defendable camp for the night is in order. Our travels have been long and arduous. We are all tired. We need food to replenish our energy as well. Night will close in on us rather quickly.”

  The dwarf using the inner sight Amari gave him indicates off to their right. Not in the direction of the peaks.

  “Look to the stand of trees next to a small lake. Can you see the broken spire of a stone tower? There is a place, I know well. It is an old destroyed monastery. All the priests were killed ages ago by the Druids. The church is in shambles. However, several stone buildings of the abbey still stand. These can be defended quite easily. We must be careful in our choosing, as there can be no escape if we are cornered within its walls.” Scratching his bearded chin, he adds. “I wonder if Holl-tu Seaject still lives there”

  “Did you say Holl-tu?” Natsha asks.

  “Do you know of him?”

  “If it is the same wizard I have seen when I was a mere child—then yes. It is an uncommon name to be sure.”

  “It may be Natsha. Truk returns. “I believe he is over one-hundred years old. His magic is great and the last I knew of him, he prefers to live out his days alone and without care of the goings-on in Aventine.”

  “I thought he turned to be a dark sorcerer who worked black magic and worshipped the shade?” Natsha says.

  Truk smiles at Natsha. “No sister. They were untruths created by envious wizards who could not work the same powerful magic Holl-tu possessed. Those who used to call him friend, now call him outcast and evil. I myself never believed the stories. Any worker of magic would have a blackness about them—not so with Seaject.”

  Amari closes her eyes trying to remember. The vision into her past is cloudy as old things rise to the surface. “The name Holl-tu is familiar. I do not know from where in my past it comes. Will he take to us intruding?”

  Truk hefts his battle axe. “Possibly not, but he has no love for the king, the soldiers or the Druids. He may give us a safe comfort for a night, but I doubt much more beyond that will he extend hospitality.”

  “Is his magic as great as our Maiden?” Dian asks.

  “Who is to say young warrior. He knows me, and that should help.”

  Amari smiles, “Come then my fellow warriors let us knock upon this wizard’s door.”

  They walk through overgrown fields of flowers and weeds. No longer cultivated nor sown. Through a stand of tree they pass, quietly and slowly, ever watchful of their surroundings. They have not heard the baying of hounds for many hours. Reasonably sure they are no longer hunted.

  They clear the wood, and the ruins are before them. Without warning, a gray mist rises from the ground. This is no ordinary vapor from the earth. Tiny flickers of light within the mist dance about as if by design. The smoke swirls about, becoming thicker as it takes the shape of a dragon. The vaporous ancient lizard turns solid, and a stench of rotten meat reaches their noses. It roars with fire issuing from it wide teeth filled mouth. They can all feel the heat.

  Gareth and Natsha are quick as they both notch arrows and send them into the head of the dragon. The shafts pass through the dragon unhindered. Two more of the short bolts follow the first. The steel arrows have the same effect, as they bounce off the stone walls behind.

  “Save your shafts” Amari says. “It is but a conjuring of an image. The beast does not exist.”

  “How does one account for the heat from its fire and the smell of its last meal?” Gareth asks.

  The Maiden does not answer, but raises Katana. She utters a strange language and the dragon is attacked on all sides by hundreds of white hawks. The dragon spits fiery arrows from its mouth, killing the hawks.

  Amari spins the enchanted saber before her in an elegant dance of grace and power. With those movements, another dragon appears and takes a solid appearance. The new monster is dark green and larger than the first scaled serpent. Amari’s magic quickly devours the antagonist. With the threat gone, Amari’s conjuring disappears in a puff of smoke.

  As the mist begins to clear, a hooded figure walks toward them out of the fog. He raises a staff and points it at the warriors. “Be gone interlopers. This is my land and you are not welcome.”

  Gareth raises his hand in an open gesture. “We are travelers of this realm. We seek nourishment and a place to rest.”

  “Go find another place to gat
her comfort. I have no pallet to sleep upon or food to offer you. Now go before I call upon my dragon to tear your flesh.”

  Dian says to the sorcerer. “You’re a spell-caster.”

  “So you say,” answers the wizard.

  “Wizard,” says Truk. “We only want to retire here for one night in peace. Will you grant us a hay barn, so we may rest for this eve? We will be on our way with the morrow?”

  The hooded figure comes even closer to see the one speaking. “Your voice is old and familiar to me. No matter! Go away as I do not want you here. You carry the scent of fugitives about you. The king’s dogs will bring soldiers here. Whoever wants your heads will not disregard me. I will fall under the same axe. I shall not have them at my doorstep this night or any other.”

  The dwarf speaks again, “Holl-tu Seaject. That is your real name; do you not know me? It is I Truk from the Dwarf Nation come to request a boon. Allow us a night’s sleep within your keep.”

  “Yes, I remember you now Truk, but your friends I do not. Go away and leave me to my solitude.”

  Amari raises her hand for his attention. “Wise one of this land. We have come a long way and still have days more of travel before we reach our goal. You cannot deny travelers when they request a place to lie down and food to eat. Remember the old ways of hospitality?”

  “How is it? You a young maiden knows of such times. Go away I say before I cast you into darkness!”

  Amari raises Katana up for him to see its glowing power. “Your magic, although great will not work on me and mine wizard. I am the Maiden Amari on a quest of virtue and honor.”

  He pulls back his hood to reveal flowing white hair and a beard which reaches his belly.

  “The White Witch of old? I have heard of you. Many thought you dead and buried. Some still sing of your battles and goodness. How is it, you live? I have dwelt over a century on this earth. You should be three score and ten by my reckoning. Yet, you are still fair—how is that possible? Do you possess a spell, keeping you thus young?”