The Voyage of the Cybeleion: A Rawn Chronicles Interlude (The Rawn Chronicles Series)

by P D Ceanneir

  Gunach groaned loudly, ‘it is worse than I thought. He’s a Felwraith.’

  Havoc raised his eyebrows in surprise. Gunach had mentioned Felwraiths to him before. They were an Elf and Dwarf cross, created by the Goddess-queen Morgana thousands of years ago for the sole purpose of policing Dwarves and Elvenkind, purely because both races rarely got on. After a time the Felwraiths became their enemy when they began to practice in Dark Magic. The long war that followed led to the elves disappearing from history and the dwarves becoming homeless. Nevertheless, the Felwraiths were all but wiped out.

  ‘Indeed, I am,’ confirmed Pagan, ‘once I was the Great Dispenser to the Chancellery of Queen Morgana and Keeper of the Blood Knight Sigel. Now I’m a maimed Necromancer thanks to your ancestor,’ he said pointing to Havoc with his metal hand.

  ‘Ancestor?’

  ‘My life has been a long one, moving from place to place. Unfortunately, there was one place where the Halcyons found me,’ he lifted up his metal hand, ‘and they took a toll,’

  A flash of memory from Havoc’s academy days pushed through his thoughts, ‘ah! Now I know where I have heard your name before. The Halcyon Missions led by my ancestor, Cromme, over two thousand years ago.’

  During the time of the Dragor-rix War, Cromme, a young, powerful Rawn Master and son of a minor baron was the leader of the Halcyons, a group of elite soldiers, mercenaries who had the unnerving ability to carry out impossible military missions for large sums of money. Cromme made a name for himself when he returned home to fight in the war, so much so that his descendants became powerful nobles of royal titles. The House of Cromme still bears his name and standard.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Pagan rather sourly, ‘he and his soldiers destroyed my coven of Morgani Witches and almost destroyed me.’

  ‘My heart pains for your loss,’ said Havoc in jest. Pagan chose to ignore the comment and continued with his story.

  ‘I suffered with my wounds for hundreds of years until I came here and tormented the starving legionaries trapped in this place for many years because of the harsh winter storms blocking any of the known supply routes; those pathetic wretches wished for death rather than lose honour and shame their empire, mainly because they had started eating the dead. The insane inside the fortress were not much better, but they had an excuse for their cannibalism. I just helped them to make a better choice. I took away their pain. I took away their mortality.’ He pointed up towards the pulsing white clouds of swarming spirits and grinned.

  He lies! They still suffer! The Blacksword growled. The Thought Link earlier with the reanimated corpse proved that.

  ‘So, it has come to this.’ Pagan said with a chuckle, ‘I have the Sword that Rules and a chance to revenge the descendent of my enemy for the pain he caused me. The plan could not have gone any better.’

  Elric thumped the table beside him with his fist, ‘this is not part of the deal, Pagan!’

  ‘Deals change,’ said the Felwraith.

  ‘Let them go.’

  ‘I think not.’

  There was a subtle shift in the air to Havoc’s right. It was the Blacksword, rather than he, that felt it. Something black and feathery landed on Gunach’s cage. The dwarf flinched when he looked up into the black eye of the raven, but he said nothing as it silently started pecking at the leather strapping that bound the wooden bars.

  Havoc tried to distract Pagan. ‘So, why the sword?’

  Pagan walked up to the prince and looked up at him, his face paler than the glittering white scar. He grinned, showing short pointed teeth.

  ‘I need it to contain the souls, of course.’

  Havoc frowned.

  ‘Ah! This is priceless! You have no idea what the Orrinn on the sword pommel actually is, do you?’

  Havoc knew that the Muse Orrinn was unique. It allowed him to see glimpses of the future and to control, or Rule, other Orrinns. It could also be used as a holding area for his soul if his body was too damaged to contain it. He also theorised that the Blacksword resided inside it also, rather than just his mind.

  ‘I shall not go into detail,’ continued Pagan, ‘I would rather keep you in the dark, but believe me when I say that the Orrinn is more than capable of holding the hundreds of souls that swarm this cavern. Once ensconced within, I will then be able to focus their energy and become unstoppable!’

  Havoc felt the Blacksword use the Rawn Arts, but only to a small degree. He looked down. Even though the Cürious looked the same, something had changed. The Blacksword was changing its molecular structure. The tingling in the prince’s arms eased and he found he was able to move his fingers.

  ‘Ah, so you like my new contraption?’ said Pagan when he noted Havoc’s interest. ‘It took me a while to bastardize a Cürious enough to contain you with it’s magic. It has enough power to suspend your Rawn abilities and keep you trapped indefinitely.’

  ‘Havoc shook his head, noting how easy it was to move now, ‘magic has no effect on Rawns.’

  ‘And yet you are trapped,’ remarked the Necromancer, ‘it is true that Rawns are immune to normal magic, but not Spirit-magic. There, I am afraid, is your weakness. With the spirits of the insane incorporated inside the Sword that Rules, then no one, not even a Rawn or a Ri, will be able to stop me. I can safely march across the entire world and find Mortkraxnoss without any power opposing me. I can find the Gredligg Orrinn and release the Lonely God from his prison and the My’thos, spirits themselves, will cringe in supplication before me. I will command Gods to release the one true God!’

  Not if I have anything to do with it, hissed the Blacksword.

  ‘You’re as insane as the dead you control,’ said Havoc with a wry smile.

  ‘I concur,’ said Elric who was looking at the Felwraith with disgust. ‘The Marauder Doom will oppose you. If I knew this was your plan, I would…’

  ‘Would what?!’ snapped Pagan, ‘you entered into this for greed! Your obsession with Grendal’s Heart has blinded you in more ways than one.’

  On Gunach’s cage, another raven joined the first and began pecking.

  ‘Ah, Omivra! I weary of your pet. Do with him as we discussed,’ said Pagan with a wave of his hand.

  The witch stepped forward and raised her staff. Elric instinctively went into a crouch and reached for one of his Mara Swords. There was a brief flash of red light and the big warrior dropped his sword. He groaned loudly.

  ‘No…NO...NO…stop it!’ on his face the tattoos of glyph symbols under his eyes and curving around his temples slowly disintegrated into tiny particles and floated away. Elric stumbled to one side and barked his shin off a stool. He reached forward and collapsed against the table, knocking the clutter on the surface onto the floor. His hands fumbled around in the air, searching. He extracted his second sword. Omivra rushed forward and struck him in the side with the base of her staff. He brought his sword around in an arc, judging her last position, but she had quickly stepped to one side and used her staff to knock the Mara out of this hand. She struck him several more times before kicking him hard in the groin. Elric curled up into a ball, groaning and whimpering in agony.

  Pagan chuckled throughout all of this. ‘As you can see, Elric Stormstrider is a fake who used a magical gift he was given by Omivra, many years ago, to become the warrior he wished to be and make a name for himself as a Marauder Doom. Now, without the gift, he is truly blind.’

  The witch took a length of rope and tied it around Elric’s throat. ‘Now, you ugly lummox, we shall have some fun.’ She dragged him by the rope until he scrambled to his feet. She took him off to Havoc’s left and they entered a narrow doorway in the rock wall.

  ‘Omivra is a keen practitioner of Necromancy, my best student. She will “make” something of Elric, oh, and your other friend as well.

  ‘Furran,’ nodded Havoc, who had been wondering where the stocky knight was. ‘I’m afraid I cannot let you continue with your plan,’ said Havoc.

  Pagan looked genuinely surprised, ‘You
certainly are not speaking from a position of advantage. How do you propose to stop me?’

  ‘Oh, by some rather convoluted and ingenious plan that I’ve not quite worked out yet.’

  ‘Ha! You amuse me. Perhaps I shall let you live a little longer. Long enough to see the Dark Force of the Earth freed from his bonds, eh?’

  Another raven landed on Gunach’s cage. It began pecking at another leather strap. The first raven had torn several bands of leather loose already.

  Pagan looked towards the cage, ‘what the…?’

  19

  Omivra kicked Elric in the backside and he slammed against a stone table, hard. A number of sharp torture implements scattered and he managed to grab one and round on the witch, but she grabbed his arm, twisted it sharply, Elric yelled in pain and he dropped the tool. Omivra spun on her heal and kicked the warrior in the side of the head. He crashed to the floor at the foot of a stone obelisk where a manacled Furran hung by the wrists. The paladin had been stripped of his armour and only wore his padded leggings. Blood drenched the side of his face, there were numerous cuts on his chest, and blood from those wounds ran in parallel lines down to his stomach. Clearly, Omivra had been using him as entertainment to pass the time.

  ‘Bitch,’ he wheezed through lips caked in dry blood. Omivra backhanded him and his head snapped back from the blow.

  ‘That’s no way to respond to your host,’ she said as she kicked Elric across the floor.

  ‘What…what have you done to him?’ said Furran.

  ‘I have taken away his ability to see through his blindness. Now he is just a sightless fool.’

  Elric crawled along on all fours. His hands shook as he searched around his environment of the small room. He looked small and pathetic. Furran’s hope of seeing Elric alive and possible rescue soon faded.

  ‘Where are the prince and Gunach?’

  ‘Trapped, like you. Do not worry, they will join you in more suffering.’ She went to the table, ignoring the fumbling and whimpering Elric, picked up a long implement with a serrated edge hooked at the end by two sharp barbs and a pair of long scissors.

  ‘Perhaps castration will mollify your attitude,’ she said with an evil leer.

  ‘Go ahead,’ smiled Furran, ‘I’ve been on worse first dates.’

  She quickly approached him, pulled down his breaches and grabbed his genitals in one hand. He flinched and tried not to scream as she applied pressure.

  ‘Afraid?’ she said mockingly.

  ‘No, your hands are cold.’

  Behind her Elric stood up, showing no sign of his previous panic. He approached her quietly and quickly. He gripped Omivra’s head and twisted it around sharply until it snapped.

  Furran was shocked, ‘what the ...?’ as the girl fell in a heap.

  Elric searched the witch’s body and found a set of keys. He reached up towards Furran’s manacles and felt along the band until he found the keyhole. Once he was happy with the shape, he selected the correct key and unlocked the cuffs. He caught Furran as the knight slumped forward.

  ‘Can you stand?’ asked Elric.

  ‘Aye,’ nodded Furran, ‘but the tattoos on your face, they’re gone? She said you were blind again…was all of this an act?’

  Elric felt his forehead, ‘Oh, that thing. I’ve never used it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Never saw the need to use magic. My own senses are just as good, but I was not going to tell them that.’

  ‘So, why…?’

  ‘Why the play-acting? I told you, I could see the future. I made a deal with the witch and established their trust on the orders of the Marauder Doom Elders. The Necromancer gets the sword and I get the High-kings Heart, that’s what they’re meant to think. I am not about to give them the upper hand. Now, let’s get the others.’

  20

  Cornelius Pagan was distracted again when another raven cawed behind him. He turned to see one sitting on the pommel of the Sword that Rules. The glow from the Orrinn shone through the bird’s feathers as it flapped its wings. Another landed on a rock nearby, then another on Gunach’s cage.

  ‘What magic is this?’ he gasped.

  ‘No magic, Cornelius,’ said Havoc, ‘a summoning. Like I said before, you will not be allowed to continue your madness.’ Underneath him, the lights from the Curious flickered and the rings of red mist became more intermittent. Pagan noticed.

  ‘No! That cannot be. What are you doing?’

  ‘Oh, I am not doing anything. I am trapped, remember? I think there is someone who wants to meet you.’

  The Necromancer frowned in confusion. The cavern was filling with ravens and the sound of their cawing was increasing.

  ‘Right,’ said Havoc, ‘you’re up.’

  ‘What?’ the Necromancer looking around him with a marked degree of anxiety clearly etched onto his face.

  ‘I’m not talking to you!’ snapped the prince.

  ‘He’s talking to me!’ hissed the Blacksword through Havoc. Pagan stepped back from the harshness and anger in the voice. He witnessed the princes bright green eyes become covered in a film of inky blackness.

  Then the Cürious exploded.

  21

  Pagan raised his arms as the ground underneath the floating prince erupted outwards, yet he was not showered in debris. Instead, the column of earth and rock churned and rotated upwards for a few seconds before falling to the ground. Someone tall wearing a black hooded cloak floated out of the conflagration with arms outstretched.

  The Blacksword landed just in front of the Necromancer.

  ‘What in the…?’

  ‘For someone who desired the Sword that Rules so much to fulfil their aims, you did not research its owner thoroughly, did you?’ mocked the Blacksword.

  Gunach roared as he kicked the wooden bars of his prison. The weakened leather strapping, now frayed by the ravens constant pecking, snapped. The birds on the roof of the cage called sharply in annoyance and flew off in all directions. Gunach hit the ground, rolled and grabbed Elric’s Mara Swords in each hand.

  ‘Kill it! You will not get this chance again, Blacksword, Felwraiths do not deserve to live,’ shouted the dwarf.

  ‘Black…?’ The Necromancer seemed even paler when he realised the identity of the tall, thin being standing in front of him.

  Death is already here for him, dwarf,’ hissed the Blacksword.

  Pagan frowned. He instantly went into an aggressive stance and leapt onto the Blacksword with an inhuman screech. The cloaked figure stumbled backwards as they grappled with one another. He dug in his feet as the Felwraith pushed him backwards and found purchase. Those long white fingers of the Blacksword wrapped around the arms of Pagan and both of them were locked into a position of stalemate as they applied muscle against brawn.

  Gunach watched with fascination. He knew from legend that Felwraiths were stronger than Elves and Dwarves, but the Blacksword was obviously equal to the challenge.

  ‘Ah, a word of advice, Blacksword. Pagan will not play fair, so neither should you,’ remarked Gunach.

  ‘A good point,’ said the Blacksword and head butted the Felwraith, shattering his nose. He then wrenched off the metallic arm and kicked him in the chest. Pagan went spinning across the ebony table and landed hard on his back. The Blacksword grimaced at the contraption in his hand and then threw it away in disgust. Gunach, not one to discard dwarven ingenuity, picked it up.

  Out of the small opening in the rock face, Elric, half-carrying Furran, exited. Elric held Gunach’s Legacy Axe in one hand while Furran had strapped his Spit Guns over his shoulder and carried his short sword.

  ‘The Blacksword?’ said Furran, ‘how in the name of Arcun did he get here?’

  Elric sighed, ‘and you say I’m blind!’

  They both watched as, on the other side of the table, Pagan stood up.

  ‘Enough of this!’ He bellowed and raised his arms towards the undulating mass of clouds that held the souls of Sjardhiem inmates. He mumbled uninte
lligible cantrips under his breath and then finally pointed towards the Blacksword.

  ‘KILL HIM!’

  The cloud exploded into a screaming mass of malevolence. Furran and Elric had to duck back into the doorway as the raging gust roared over them, yet the spirits left them unharmed. Gunach dived under the heavy wooden table, which creaked and vibrated as the tide of phantoms washed over it.

  The spirits spiralled around Pagan as he laughed manically. The Blacksword stood his ground and raised his arms out to the sides. All around the cavern floor, the ground erupted into tall funnels of earth, dust and rock. The Blacksword grasped the debris into tight columns of twisting storms. To use two elements together took an enormous amount of concentration and energy, but the Blacksword seemed unfazed by the strain and toll it had on him. The wind roared to a deafening degree and pulled in more detritus as it spiralled around the mass of souls that coalesced near the Necromancer.

  As the Blacksword assumed, the spirits were confused and a little afraid of the wall of smashed dirt that surrounded them. They howled and huddled closer to keep back from the shifting partition that now drew together and spun into a spherical shape. The closing ball of dirt mashed particles and atoms together to quickly harden into a shell that encased the souls perfectly inside the orb. Pagan watched helpless as the ball spun several feet above his head.

  Then the sphere of dirt turned into a beep metallic silver that did not reflect light, stopped spinning, and dropped to the ground with a hollow thump.

  Silence filled the cave as everyone stepped out of their chosen hiding places and stared at the four-foot high spherical ball of strange metal.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned. He trapped them inside a ball of Pyromancium,’ said Gunach in awe, ‘they will never escape.’

  Whether the Necromancer knew of the indestructible properties of Pyromancium or not was beside the point as he mumbled incoherently at the ball before him.

  ‘This…this…this is impossible,’ he finally said.

  ‘Not as such,’ said the Blacksword and even though no one could see his face inside the dark depths of the hood, they could all hear the smile in his voice. ‘I have severed your connection to the spirits. You cannot hear them or use their energy as Dark Magic against us, can you?’