“The people of this mountain fortress have figured how to work the stone without slicing off a hand or two.” Holl-tu says while running a hand over the smooth stones of the building.
The warriors continue their travel upward on the series of stairs, each in their own thoughts of what this place must have been like. Dian stops to smell a large yellow flower. “What a wonderful scent.”
Amari touches Dian’s shoulder.
“What sister—should I have not done that?”
“No…your nose…it is covered in yellow pollen.”
Natsha produces a cloth and hands it to Dian, who wipes her nose and smiles. “I could never have done this if I was still cursed to the sea.”
They continue on the path.
A large arch covered in more vines greets them when they reach the top. They have arrived at a plateau. More lush gardens, small pools of rippling water dot the flat land. Further on stands the remains of a city. Houses of various sizes built to mimic the spike-like rocks about them are gathered close together. Some whole and untouched by time, others demolished. The Largest which may have been the leader’s house who Amari said was kin to her father.
The ebony structure with hundreds of windows still stands magnificent…even though half of it is in ruin.
“Tis there my father took me. I would play hoodman’s blind with the other children while the men discussed whatever men tended to discuss.”
“Did you sister come as well?” Natsha asks the Maiden.
“No, my sister cared little for adventure when we were young ones. She chose to stay with our mother and do the things’ women do.”
Gareth looks into the Maiden’s misty eyes. “Warrior even then you were?”
Amari flexes her fingers as she remembers. “At age ten, my father taught me to handle sword and bow. He had always wanted a son, but all he had were daughters. It was much later that Urel wanted to learn. With my father’s health failing, I taught Urel everything our father had taught me. She was a little envious, as she had to play catch up to me. I can see now that there was always a rivalry of sorts.”
Natsha says to the others as they walk. “Spread out and see if there is still a building untouched and will keep the weather and night at bay.”
“Speaking of the weather—it seems warmer here than down on the lowlands?” Mimna says. She adds. “On the Three Peaks, it was always cooler because of the height.”
“That is due to the black rocks these buildings were built of, and sat upon. The black stones retain the sun’s heat into the night.” The Maiden offers.
One or two of the band detach from the march to poke a head into a building they pass; each warrior returning shaking heads. As they stand before the largest building of the keep, Gareth wrestles open the damaged main door. One after another, they step over the threshold. They enter the central hall, which is customary for most manors and keeps. The living quarters would be in the back, or upper floors.
The high ceiling is broken and fallen away in many spots. The late-afternoon sunlight streams into the room. The decades of settled dust, rise up from their footsteps. Each particle is held suspended in the warming rays.
Tables and chairs are turned over, and litter is everywhere. One table that survived still has stone plates and piles of dust that must have been food. The scattered bones of many lie about the room. Skeleton hands still holding swords. Some bodies so small, they could only have been children.
“Funny, we saw no remains on our path here?” Dian voices with a sadness in her tone.
“It appears many retreated to this manor house to make a last stand.” Gareth says. He begins to search the side rooms off from the main chamber. He returns shortly to report.
“There is a good many sleeping chambers here that are untouched. We can make this our camp. Natsha and I will go and look for food. I am sure there may be gardens still producing something. Those large pools we passed on the way may have fish.”
Gareth realizes no one is listening to him. He follows his companions’ gaze to the far end of the hall. He sees their collective attention is centered on a body pinned by a lance, high up on the wall. The remains still hold flesh, as if the one impaled just died. A dented golden crown sits tilted upon a misshapen head. The eyes of the dead one are wide open and staring.
A broken sword is still grasped in his right hand. His left leg below the knee has detached. It lies crumbled on the floor.
Thinking this is a recent death, swords quickly fill hands as the warriors form a circle—backs together.
Amari moves her hand in mystic circles directed at the body. “This is old and the magic remains. Whoever did this deed, put a spell upon the remains that has lasted for decades?” Amari moves closer and looks at the face and golden chest plate of the leader of the Thunderclan. “This was Liam Rerocliam…I knew him. He was a proud man and capable ruler. He should never have died this way.”
Gareth stands next to Amari and says. “Looks like the Druids left him pinned there for all eternity as a warning to those who dare to defy their rule. At least, he resisted to the end as he still holds his sword. Can you withdraw the spell Amari? We can bury him with his people.”
“I will try…some spells cast by others cannot be cancelled.” She raises her hands and weaves a complicated pattern over Liam. She does this ritual several times before the long-dead body shakes and contorts.
Immediately, the spell which preserved the remains must be gone, as the flesh turns to dust and only bones covered in tattered cloth and armor is left. The remains slide down the length of the lance and drop.
Gareth quick for such a large man, moves beneath the falling ruler and catches him. He carries and gently lays him upon a dais next to an overturned throne.
“Well done Gareth!” Amari says with pride for the big man.
“I could do no less for a ruler of many. As you spoke of him with affection, I could not let his remains crash to the floor like rubbish.”
Gareth goes back out to the courtyard. Bringing Helixx out and pointing it at a flat expanse of ground, he commands the earth to move. A long and deep trench opens; dirt piled on each side as if dug by men. He returns to his friends. “I have prepared a grave for these people. Their remains shall rest together for eternity.”
Using ragged tapestries pulled from the walls, the warriors go about the task of collecting remains and putting them into the mass grave. Dian and Mimna have collected flowers and place them upon each body. It takes the rest of that day, and the next before all the citizens are put to rest.
They stand on both sides looking at those finally laid to rest.
“It seems these are too few people for the size of this city of the mountains?” Truk remarks as he looks upon those gently laid side-by-side in the open burial place.
“I have found more,” Holl-tu says while walking up to the grave. “Below us in jagged crags and precipices are many more bodies. They cannot be reached from here.”
The others follow the wizard to a cliff overlooking hundreds of bodies; now only bones. “To climb down there would be a hazard and life-threatening. See the cut on my finger from when we entered the portal,” as he holds up a finger with a long thin reddish healed scar. “This is from only laying one finger on the stone.”
Dian leans over the edge and scans the bodies below. “Either these people threw themselves over the cliff to escape being captured and enslaved; or the Druids killed them and threw them there!”
“Then we leave them where they lie. A piece of the mountain will be their blanket.” Again, Gareth raises his Earth Sword and directs it at a large overhanging ledge near where they all stand. He says the mystic words taught to him by Amari. A great force ensues as the ledge breaks away from the mountain and hovers in place. Gareth’s sword arm begins to shake.
Amari moves closer to the big man and says. “Brothers and sisters, lend your strength to Gareth.”
Each quickly lays a hand on his person…willing their own s
trength to join his. Amari and Natsha have raised their enchanted swords and lay the blades across Gareth’s sword.
The added physical strength from the others and the magic of two more of the Kcaj is all Gareth needs. He moves the large flat stone over the skeletons and gently lowers it into place. It is of sufficient size to cover all the remains.
Amari blesses those that who fallen to evil. Going to the other mass grave, Amari repeats the blessing. Gareth moves the earth back over the bodies creating a burial mound. All stand or sit in reflection of those they did not know, but fought the common enemy.
No grave marker is erected. Instead, they scatter seeds collected from wildflowers, which grow along the paths. Soon, this burial mound will contain the sweet-smelling aroma of blooms.
As the sun sets, they retreat to the great hall exhausted. Using the Fire Sword, Natsha ignites a fire in the large hearth with wood the men collected. The warmth spreads quickly to those sitting near.
Mimna and Truk enter from one of the rooms. “We have prepared a bed for each of us. You shall have his or her own chamber. We found blankets stored in chests. A little worn and threadbare, but sufficient for our needs.
We all give thanks to our friend’s thoughtfulness of our comforts.
Slowly, as the minutes tick by, each sleepy man or woman retires for the night. Tomorrow promises a new day is on each tired mind. Only Gareth and Amari remain awake and keep each other company.
“Brother, no need for you to stay awake and on guard. We are completely safe here…that is why I chose this keep.”
“Tis not fear of attack, but my mind feels like it is tumbling down a hill. Many thoughts race for my understanding. I cannot sleep even if I wanted to lie down. Go rest sister, I will tend the fire.”
“Very well Gareth. You and Natsha are the first of my new warriors. My feelings for you are the strongest. I cannot forget the number of times you saved me, including from the half-sleep of death.” She lays a hand upon his shoulder as he sits hunched over looking into the blazing flames.
He places his hand across hers. “It was my destiny to be here with you and the others. I pray that I am here to see the quest to its end.”
He drops his hand down, but hers pauses there for several moments longer.
All of a sudden, he lets out a wide-mouth yawn. “You know Amari. My mind has relaxed and stopped racing about with a myriad of thoughts. I think that I might be able to sleep after all. It must be the soothing effects of the fire. He first hugs the Maiden—goes to an open door of a sleep chamber and shuts it behind him.
Looking about the great hall and the fire casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, she smiles while going to her own chamber. “The fire does have a soothing effect. A little magic helps too.”
Mimna wakes to the sun streaming in her window and warming her face. She stretches and lays there for a few minutes. She had a restful sleep and did not want to get out of her bed. Thoughts of who laid upon this raised pallet gather in her mind. Was it a woman…man, or child? I wonder if he or she laying here dream of wondrous things? Was their death by the savage Druids quick and without undue pain; or was it one of those brave souls we buried, who died with a sword clenched in their hand? Mimna would doubt if any of these questions could be answered.
Dressing in her battle gear and tunic, she straps on her chest and leg armor. Tall leather boots slide over her stocking feet. Buckling the wide belt with sword and dirk about her middle, she slips her arm into the small shield strap and moves it over her shoulder and across her back for quick use.
Before she can even open the door to her chamber, she smells something cooking. The aroma is familiar. Grasping the handle, she swings the door inward and steps out into the main chamber.
Holl-tu and Dian are busy setting one of the tables with stone plates. Over the fire in the hearth, several large birds are roasting. Butchered and featherless, the smell of oil drips into the fire, to sizzle and tempt the nose.
A shallow stone bowl is set near the coals with a pair of large headless fish simmering it its own juices. Clay pictures of water are placed on the table. Two large overflowing bowls of some orange and green fruit are at each end of the long table.
“Where in the world did you find food on this inhospitable mountain?” Mimna asks of Holl-tu and Dian.
Dian stops what she is doing of moving and dusting off chairs. “You can thank the wizard for the fowl roasting on the spit. He enchanted a passing flock of geese to fly into the side of this building. It was a simple chore to retrieve, clean and stake over the fire. The fish are plentiful in a large pool behind this building. There are plenty of insects flying about to feed them over the years. Most scaled ones are fat and slow moving. They were an easy kill with a pointed stick.
Beyond the pool and down a long and overgrown path there lies a protected valley atop these mountains. Within are field stone rows bordering gardens and orchards. We just reached up and picked the fruit from the branches. Several of the trees have fallen and are old rotten wood—worthy for warming a hearth. A good number of the fruit-bearing trees persisted; properly pruned of the dead and broken branches, they should yield fruit for many more years.
The gardens may have contained vegetables at one time, but weeds and time have choked off anything that could have been eaten. I dare to say we have enough food and water to sustain us for many months.
If we are to call this home and sanctuary for a time, I am a mind to restore the orchards and gardens. Maybe an excursion to a town or village to procure spices, flour, seeds and other foodstuffs we cannot grow here.
“Let’s hope the holders of the Kcaj find the answers to their questions in less time it takes us to exhaust our food supply.” Mimna says to Dian.
“Dear sister…one would think you are jealous of those who hold the enchanted blades.” Dian says to Mimna as she finishes cleaning the last chair.
“Not jealous, but I feel the lesser than the rest. Even though Amari and I go back to the times of great battles and companionship, I feel she is more akin to you, Gareth, Natsha and Truk than me.”
“Do not dwell on that sister. We are all equals. Sure I hold a sword mighty than your pure steel, but you are no less part of the whole. Come with me.”
Mimna and Dian walk outside and around to the back of the building. They come upon the pool Dian spoke of earlier.
Dian moves her hands in short quick movements. The water from the pool forms a shaft of liquid that flows to her outstretched hand. Hydrosin is formed. It shimmers in the early-morning light. It has the sheen of moving water and at the same time, the strength of formed steel. Dian swings it back and forth in a dance of grace.
“Mimna, give me your hand.”
Mimna takes Dian’s empty hand. She can feel great power welling up in her body.
“What you are feeling is the energy created by the Water Sword pulled from the earth mother. As water is a strong element of the planet…its power is great. Now grasp my hand that holds the sword.”
Mimna reaches slowly with hesitation. She knows touching a Kcaj not selected by the blade itself could be deadly.
Dian takes Mimna’s hand and places it over hers as she still holds the sword.
Mimna can feel even more power surge through her. Dian closes her eyes to distractions. Her body sways back and forth as ancient languages flows from her lips.
All Mimna can do is watch—mesmerized.
Dian puts her hands together in a prayer and looks at Mimna. “Sister of mine, what do you hold?”
Suddenly, Mimna realizes that Dian’s hands are folded in front of her and not holding the saber—the Black Angel is.
“How is this happening,” she asks the once Nix.
“As Amari has given the ability for either Gareth or Natsha to hold Katana, I have shared Hydrosin with you. You do not have all the magic I possess, but the sword will serve you if I were to perish in battle. For you see, this blade finds you worthy to be a holder; this I have felt from Hy
drosin.”
Mimna spins and swings the enchanted blade and neatly slices through a dead sapling. Another whirlwind swipe of the saber and a stone block at her feet splits apart. Mimna was expecting a painful vibrating felt in the hilt when hitting the rock, but none came. “This is astounding!” Mimna says.
Dian smiles at the wonder in Mimna’s eyes. “Now throw the sword back at the pool sister.”
Mimna does what is requested. As the sword leaves her hand, it becomes the liquid and splashes back into the pool.
“Now go to that basin over by the arbor. It is used to collect the rainwater. Say these words and hold your hand over the basin. “From the blood of the earth veins do I call upon Hydrosin—come fill my hand.”
Mimna repeats Dian’s words, but nothing happens.
“Mimna, you must concentrate when using magic. Be careful as distraction can also shift the flow of mystic power.”
The Black Angel makes several more attempts. On the fifth try, she clears her mind and repeats the words taught to her.
Mimna’s fingers pulsate with power as the column of liquid rises up. Once it touches her hand, the Water Sword is born again. Opening her hand the water splashes to the ground.
“Now you have the power I have sister. You are truly equal to us all. Keep this in mind. Only one of us can call forth Hydrosin at a time. Since it initially selected me as its mate, it will always defer to my hand first. If I were to die in battle, it knows your grasp already, and you will be its new chosen master. If the Water Sword did not feel you worthy, then it would have never formed in your hand.”
Mimna looks to her wet hands and asks. “What if we are far afield from each other and you were to die in battle? I pray to the gods that will not happen to any of us.”
“Nearness does not matter sister. Hydrosin was crafted by a goddess, and she is far-reaching. If I were to perish, the saber will find you with the last beat of my heart.”
A flood of tears well up in Mimna’s eyes as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around Dian. “I will cherish what you have shared with me for all time.”
Maiden's Saber Page 42
