“What of this one” as she points to Natsha.
“Natsha and Gareth freed me from the half-sleep of death. Although, not their original intent. They are free warriors traveling about the lands. In the process of raiding tombs, Gareth’s blood was shed, and it touched my person, thus breaking the spell. The hex was lifted, and I became complete and alive again.
The effects of the curse are still with me, as some of my memories are vague and distant. I cannot seem to bring them wholly back to my mind. Many of my spells come to me in dire moments. Others float in and out as with the wind. Deep within me is the desire to unite the five blades, of that I am sure.”
“Do you know where the other sabers of the Kcaj can be found?” Mimna asks.
Of the Wind sword—no! However, the Fire sword, Pyrestorm is slave to Urel.”
Mimna takes on a pensive look. “Even in our lofty cities, we have heard of Urel’s evilness. Many of the lowlanders have been tormented by her and the ruthless King of Aventine. Now we hear the Druids still exist and grow in numbers. I fear those outside of our protective mountains are about to feel the wrath from yet another evil force.”
Amari closes her eyes and pains inside at the thought of her ancient adversaries returning to tormenting the land of Aventine.
Mimna goes on. “We are peaceful people in the clouds. We have but a small number of warriors to protect the ascension device to our realm above. We must rely upon the Cylok rock people to keep others away. Still, some brave or I would say foolish men, attempt to climb up the peaks in search of treasures they heard may exist. Where there is talk of gold and jewels, all caution leaves reasoning men. We have no vast treasure house waiting to be plundered. For those who try. The fall is great and death quick.”
Mimna regards the small band of tired and weary warriors. “I think it is time we go to my realm above the clouds. I will give you shelter and safety. No evil may find you there as the mountain spirits protect us.”
“What of your people? Will they grant us leave to enter your great cities?” Truk asks.
“You are to be my guests. None will dispute the laws of hospitality I offer you. First, you must swear an oath what you see and hear will not be repeated to the flatland dwellers. All of you must swear to this.”
The Cylok moves away at Mimna’s whistle and they blend in with the surrounding rocks.
The warriors raise their hands and avow on the lives of each other to reveal nothing of what is seen or heard. Whatever secrets of the Skye cities they happen to witness will be kept in trust.
Mimna nods her head in approval. “Come now; the entrance to the eternal stairs is but a short distance away.”
“Eternal stairs” mouths Gareth.
“Yes brother to Amari and my new friend. How else can we gain the heights above? The three cities which lie posed above the clouds are over one-thousand meters from where we stand.”
Gareth utters a groan. It is plain to see that he does not relish a climb which could take forever and weaken their mortal bodies even more. He knows his companions think him strong and tireless, but the fact is he is indeed tired and weary and must replenish his strength. That will only come from food and rest. Maybe ale sweetened with honey would quaff his thirst as well.
Mimna gazes at the assembled group of warriors. It reminds her of the battles of olden days. It took much diverse peoples which fought together for a common cause. The fight against evil brought the valiant from every corner of Aventine and beyond. She turns and leads the way.
They traverse around the base of one of the peaks. Before long, there in front of them is a joining of two mountains. The merge of those great peaks disappears in the clouds. There is no break in the rock…no way to climb or scale the smooth weathered stone. Several large boulders bar their path. The sarsens are impossible to climb over because of the rounded surface.
Amari surmises beyond is where the three peaks may join at the base behind the immense boulders barring their advance.
The kin of the Black Angels rests her hand on the largest of the boulders and whistles a series of notes. The rock vibrates to the notes and rolls to the side—revealing a hidden entrance. Mimna motions for them to follow. After the last person passes through, the boulder rolls back into place. This effectively, hides the entrance from the outside. Standing on either side is a Cylok keeping guard.
Holl-tu says to Mimna. “I see there are sentries here. Has anyone managed to get beyond the rock door and come this far?”
Mimna looks at the wizard. “Once, long before my birth a druid attempted to get in here by bewitching one of the Black Angels into opening the portal. He made it quite far into the valley before he was killed by the Cylok. Since that day, a guard has been posted here.”
As they continue to walk through the tunnel, marble statues of ancient warriors in full battle dress line the passage. Expressionless faces with dark eyes stare at the warriors. Torches set in notches on the walls lighting the worn path.
With Mimna in the lead, they emerge to the outside again into a dim light. About them are the three peaks. Mimna walks through the tall grass gently moving the fragile blades with hands outstretched at her sides. “We go to the center which is equal distance from the mountains.” She tells them. The others follow close behind marveling at the wonder of it all.
Dian breathes in a lungful of sweet growing things. She looks all about and says. “The land is lush here. The fields of flowers flourish even in what may be reduced sunlight during the day.”
“We always have light here in the valley of the three-peaks. The walls all about give off a natural light. It is some sore of luminesce plant that grows only here.
Mimna merely nods her head without turning around. Gareth notices nothing here stands more than three meters high. Even with the mountains surrounding them, a light wind sweeps over them. Swaying the tall grasses and flowering bushes. The big man standing a head above the rest sees a well-worn path leading off into the distance.
It takes a full two turns of the hour glass before they reach a raised pedestal in what looks like the exact center of the three peaks. All along the way, Cylok’s would rise up from the tall grass to block their path.
When Mimna whistles a complicated tune, they quickly retreat to lie in wait, appearing as only stones of the field.
Natsha sees this and raises a question. “Mimna, is your whistling learnable by others? Can I not mimic you and command the stone people as well?”
“No Natsha. It is not just the complex notes which issue from my lips, but the construct of my body. We of the high peaks are born with an inherent energy which the stone people can sense. This force within, coupled with the whistling of certain tones is how we are able to talk to the mountain’s rock inhabitants. We have co-existed with them for centuries. All this was taught to us as younglings.
They pass out of the tall grass and enter a clearing.
“We have arrived at the eternal stairs my friends. About us” as she points to the peaks, “is what we people of the Skye call The Three Sisters.”
Gareth is the first to respond. “I do not see any stairs. Are they hidden by some magic?”
“We just call them the eternal stairs. The stairs are not steps in the sense for climbing, but is really a central shaft of energy that carries one either up or down depending on where they originate. As we are the base of the peaks—it will lift us upward. This tower of energy originates from deep within the earth.
I can tell you how it works, but not why it does. It is centuries old and we do not know who was the first to make use of this means of travel, or why it serves us.
Do not fear, as you cannot fall once you are in the shaft of power. It is a little unnerving at first to be suspended with nothing under foot, or sides like a cart to grasp. I will go first to herald your approach. Archers are positioned at strategic places all the way to the top to bring down any that have gotten past the Cylok. Although, no one has ever gotten past those sentries to get eve
n this far, as they never sleep or tire.”
Mimna mounts the platform and stands in the center, feet together. She turns her body in a circle—three turns to the left and one to the right. She raises her arms and then crosses them over her chest. A yellow shaft of light appears from the pedestal and envelopes her body in a warm glow. In moments, she is quickly rising…suspended on nothing solid. In the barest twinkling of light and time, she is out of sight in the clouds. Sometime later, the yellow glow which suspended her in its grip is gone.
Everyone takes a seat on the edge of the platform to wait.
Amari looks to Truk with questioning eyes.
Truk can almost read the Maiden’s thoughts. “Mimna told me a long time ago she was a Black Angel, but nothing of this place.”
“Strange,” Amari says to Truk and the others. We have fought side by side, but know only a portion of each other’s pasts.”
Only Holl-tu answers her. “Wizards like their secrets,” he says with a grin.
It is much later that the shaft of pulsating light begins again, heralded by slight vibrations in the pedestal where they are sitting or lying. They have spent a good portion of the night there waiting. A false dawn can be seen over the eastern peak. Morning will be upon them shortly.
Rising to their feet, they strain necks while looking upwards. From where the light fades and disappears into the clouds, a form can be seen riding the beam down. After many minutes, Mimna lands with the softness of a bird’s feather, floating to earth.
“Come! My people await your presence. I have told them of you Amari, your friends and quest. As you fight for truth and the light, you will be welcomed as friends. You have to be aware your time above will be limited. No outsider has been allowed to stay there since the early days of our existence. Once you are given shelter, and rested under our laws of hospitality—you must depart.”
“How much time will that be” asks Dian and Natsha at almost the same instant?
“For the Three Sisters which is our home—three days.”
We all look at each other and nod our heads. “That is fine Mimna. We thank you for the kindness you have shown us.”
Mimna is still within the shelter of the light that shimmers around her body. “Please gather around me all of you.”
With Mimna in the center, the others form a tight circle about her. She reaches her arms outward, and as she does, the shaft of yellow light expands until it encloses all who stand there.
The warriors feel a warmth enveloping them. A serenity of peace passes through their collective spirits. They see more than feel they are rising. It feels like they are still standing on the hard-surface pedestal. When, in fact, they are hundreds of feet into the sky when they look down.
Dian falters a little and her knees start to buckle, but Mimna puts an arm around her waist and draws her closer.
“Fear not Dian. You cannot fall. Once within the shaft of energy you are held a prisoner until the end of the transfer. Even if you were foolish enough to throw yourself at the walls of light, you could not pass through. Relax all of you and enjoy the journey.”
Chapter 12 – The Apprentices of Shade
A lonely figure walks through the tunnels that crisscross a portion of the lands under Aventine. Intricate and ancient worked stone buttresses transition from polished floor to an equally reflective ceiling.
Carved figures of snakes, dragons and skulls are set into the columns. They seem to watch as the hooded shape walks by. In reality, it is a trick played by the flickering torch lights. The walls are rough stone. This tunnel and others like it that connect with each other were pounded out centuries ago.
The hooded figure passes many side tunnels along his hurried journey to those who await the word he brings. At his passing, he can hear voices of others in dark alcoves. Some speak in quiet whispers while others care not their voices carry the discomfort of living in the ground like rats.
A large score of the Druids who live in this dark and damp place wield magical powers. The few mages left after being almost wiped out, tried to recreate their old glories. It has taken decades, but their ranks now swell as before.
Sacrificial rituals are increasing as well. They believed drinking their victims’ blood gave them great power over mortal men. They saw themselves as gods.
His head bent down as his message to the leaders weighs heavy upon his shoulders. The passageway twists and turns. It bends sharply to the left as it goes around a stone corner. Sometimes the passage seems to go further underground, only to rise a short time later.
This ancient shade is not afraid of getting lost. His life has been spent here waiting for the time all Druids will leave the darkness below ground; and roam about the upper world.
Many of the bards were once farmers and tradesmen, who fell under the power of the druids. Their old life is all but forgotten as they live to serve the rituals and life of a priest of darkness.
A tribesman from the Shadow Clan passes him from the other direction. His back bent under the heavy load of fresh cast swords. Those of Shadow and Moon Clans serve the Blood Druids for many years. Promised a share of Aventine lands when the Druids rise again, they go about their elected slavery with great expectation of the oath given them.
Having that thought, this Druid knows his leaders will not honor their promise to the clans. These minions will be disposed of when they are no longer needed. Such is the way of a Blood Druid. They only have honor among themselves. All others are lesser beings. Good for only slavery and sacrifice.
Rock walls drip water as little streams run down the stone and along the tunnel floor to disappear into a hidden cistern further underground. The man continues walking deeper and deeper into the earth, knowing this realm lies under the Mystic Lake near the Fire Woods.
He nears the main meeting chamber. His resolve is diminishing at the thought of standing in the presence of the Council of Ten.
Passing through an arched doorway of skulls cemented together, he enters an immense cavern filled with hundreds, perhaps thousands of Druids milling about. Many are seated cross-legged upon the cold earth. With eyes closed and bodies swaying…meditating and transfixed deep within their art of perfecting dark spells and incantations.
Seated in the center of the chamber are the Council of Ten and their leader the feared Druid Edalvin. The ancient warlock is listening intently to one of his council members.
The hooded man who just entered the chamber wishes another would be the bearer of the news he has to give. Nevertheless, this task fell upon him. He is one of the very few Druids with the ability to mind-talk to the beasts and fowl of the earth.
Picking a weaving path through those gathered around the dais, he stands unmoving waiting to be seen…and hoping not.
Crogan Elves servants tending to the leaders of the Druids with food and drink pass by the waiting Druid. One thinking his rank among the other elves is superior is brazen as it sneers at the presence of the Druid who waits.
This disrespect to a Druid is observed by another, as a leathery whip cuts through the air and catches the elf about the head and shoulders.
“Away with you foul creature,” commands Edalvin.
The other Crogan Elves scatter in all directions trying to escape the wrath and whip of the Druid.
“Tarrino come closer and tell me of the beast’s victory. Does he possess the head of the Maiden and her magic sword? Quickly, I must see it!”
Gathering his nerve, the lowly druid takes a deep breath and says. “Mighty Edalvin; Ruler of the Imals’ Blood Druids; teacher of the ancient ways and dark magic, have mercy upon this messenger. The beast you dispatched has failed to carry out his task. The raven which brought the news is limited in what he can articulate to me. He said a great light destroyed your servant. One of the Maiden’s warriors was slain at the beast’s hand before it fell.”
Edalvin pulls back his hood to reveal an ashen face and red eyes. The years have not been good to this leader of the most feared sect
. “I underestimated her magic and the faithfulness of her warriors. Where are they now?”
“No one knows my liege. Those of the forests cannot find them. It appears your enemies have gone into the mist.”
“Where was it the beast attacked them Tarrino?”
“I can only get vague impressions from the hazy mind of a black bird. Its mind revealed what may be a mountain which disappears into the clouds.”
In anger, the leader of the Druids throws his whip to the floor. “They are in the hidden cities of the Black Angels!” Edalvin mutters under his breath.
“Of course, where else in Aventine could anyone go from our sight? The White Witch must have someone who has helped her to ascend those treacherous peaks. We cannot go there. Our magic will not work against the rock creatures that protect the mountains and those who dwell above.
Post sentries near the peaks, but not too close. We will wait until they return to the low lands. Send a messenger to the High Priestess Urel. Tell her that we have found her sister. She will be very pleased.”
“Yes Edalvin, it shall be done as you command.” He turns to leave, but the Druid leader taps his staff on the hard ground.
“One more thing Tarrino; the next news you give me better be what I want to hear.”
Tarrino swallows hard. Even though he is a Druid with much magic at his calling…Edalvin possess superior sorcery which no other Druid or enchanter could counter.
As the lesser Druid leaves, Edalvin turns to the council of ten. “My brothers—the enchantress and bane of our continued existence has escaped us yet again.
I believe the Black Angels may have given her sanctuary for a time. We cannot test their borders as they are protected not by magic, but by the Cylok. Our magic does not work against those spawn from the earth. We must wait for the Maiden Witch and those who follow her to return from the cloud cities.”
Several of those assembled there nod their heads while others are making signs in the air as if to read the future.
One of the very oldest of the Blood Druids gets to unsteady feet while keeping gnarled hands on the chair’s armrests. His eyes are but dry sockets now. His sight taken away by one of the Ords that served the Maiden decades ago.
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