by Jon Kiln
“We still haven’t decided how we’re going to get inside that thing.” Azmariddian frowned again.
“Stop being a pessimist, Azmariddian, I will think of something,” Hendon snapped, but despite his scolding of the old druid, he did not know how he was going to enter the witches’ temple. “Let’s just get as close as we can, then we can reassess the situation.”
They packed up camp and set off in the direction of the spire. As they walked on, the monkey perched itself on Hendon’s shoulder.
From a distance they could see something that looked like a small castle with a spire. The walls seemed deserted, and neither Hendon or Azmariddian could sense any danger yet. As they neared the building, they became more wary, staying hidden in the dense forest.
“Whilst I cannot see them, I can sense those witches are here guarding their temple. How ever are we to get inside?” Azmariddian said, unable to keep the hopelessness from his voice.
“I have an idea, my friend,” Hendon whispered to the druid.
“Why is it I don’t like the sound of this?” Azmariddian replied, seemingly with a permanent frown.
“Because it’s a little crazy, but right now, it’s all we have,” Hendon said, taking the monkey from his shoulders. “I can communicate with animals. You’ve seen me do it, so you know it’s something I’m good at.” Hendon was attempting to gain the trust of his partner, the druid. “The monkey can make its way around the castle, and I can control it.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan? Are you crazy?” Azmariddian exclaimed, thinking his companion had lost his mind.
“It’s all we have,” Hendon retorted. “Have you a better idea?”
The druid said nothing. They had never discussed what they would do, once they found the witches’ temple. Probably for this exact reason, they simply did not know.
“It is fortuitous that we have this tiny creature,” Hendon said.
Azmariddian said nothing, but shook his head in despair.
“Druid, I want you to play your part,” Hendon demanded. “Scan your mind over the castle, reconnoiter the layout. I want to know exactly where that book is, so we can be in and out before anyone even knows we’re here.”
With that, he left the druid to his work. Though he did not let him out of sight, as he would be in a trance and in need of his protection, should they be seen. Hendon stroked the monkey while he watched Azmariddian go into the trance.
Hendon then entered the mind of the monkey, telling it that there was much food to be had in the castle, and showing it images. The creature immediately jumped off his back and into the trees. The next time he saw the little creature, it was scaling the wall, before it disappeared through an open window.
The old druid had put himself into a dark world. A hazy pathway stood before him and he knew he had arrived within the spirit realm. This was not a place he wished to linger within, but he called out on the hope that a spirit may recognize his presence. Swiftly, he turned around as he heard a shuffling noise behind him, and before him stood an adult albino. He had drawn the attention of Cronos’s spirit guide.
I have been waiting for you, the guide said in a gentle voice. We do not have much time. Thalia will be letting legions into your world if you do not use the book. There were many ways you could have gone, but I tried to draw your attention to the scroll, and lead you to the witches’ layer. The Book of Opposites is not hidden, as they do not know its use. They will only see blank pages for the opposition spell. You will not be able to read the darker magic spells. That is how it works. The user can only see the magic that they understand themselves. The book is stored within the library. It is not guarded, it simply awaits your arrival. Take it back to the palace and close the portal.
With those words the spirit faded and Azmariddian stood alone. He knew he could not linger in the spirit world, or he may become a part of it.
He awoke to Hendon shaking him.
“It’s in the library,” he said. “Unguarded and just waiting for us to take it. They don’t know its true worth,” Azmariddian recounted his conversation with the spirit. “The monkey must look for a book, not a scroll. It is called Double Incantations, but the reader can only see the pages of the magic he practices.”
“Watch over me while I concentrate harder,” Hendon said. “You, my friend, have done your part. Now it is our turn.”
Hendon lay upon the floor and put his mind into that of the monkey. He found the small creature under a table eating a piece of stale bread that someone must have dropped. The monkey was reluctant to look at the shelves with books on it, it wanted to look for more food. Hendon pushed harder in the monkey’s mind, now forcing away the thought of food and replacing it with an overwhelming need for the book.
Fortunately, the library was deserted and almost in darkness while the little creature searched. Each book it picked up, Hendon quickly scanned the title by seeing through the monkey’s eyes. One by one they were discarded onto the floor.
Just as it seemed they were going to fail, and possibly Azmariddian’s spirit guide being wrong, something drew Hendon’s attention. A small book lay open on a table. The monkey could sense Hendon’s excitement and jumped onto the desk, grasping the book in its arms.
“I think we have it,” he said, sitting up. “Quickly, get all the dried fruit out of the packs, or the little creature may not give it to us when he returns.”
They awaited the return of the little animal. It was hard to say who was the more excited, them, or the monkey at seeing the offered food. It pounced into the pile of fruits, throwing away its load. Azmariddian grabbed at the book and opened it. Sure enough, he could only read one side of the pages.
“By the wonders of the Maker, I think you’ve done it, Hendon,” he said, finally breaking into a laugh.
“Come, we must get away,” Hendon replied, grabbing the little monkey. “I must give you a name, little fellow, for you may have just saved our world.”
38
Two thousand Vandemlander soldiers and mercenaries. Five hundred Palaran soldiers and a hundred wolf people from the further reaches of the Palaran Kingdom. All now worked together to march through the forest that bordered Vandemland and Mirnee. They had come to the aid of their mutual neighbor. These three kingdoms had not always had such close relations, but it was not just about some petty territorial dispute this time. This was about the very survival of their races.
The forest, which had previously been so tightly packed that even a single rider could not pass through, had now opened up. There was room for three horsemen to ride side by side on the permitted roadway. Progress was slow, and it was almost half a day before the first of the troops emerged into the Kingdom of Mirnee. Scout riders had been sent ahead to see if there were hostile forces awaiting them. All reports confirmed it was clear. There were neither witches nor demons to be seen anywhere.
Queen Myriam sat upon her steed, as one of the scouts approached.
“We found their tracks,” he reported to Qutaybah. “They’re heading for the Palaran borders.”
“Seems they gave up on our border, and now they’ve turned their eyes to your Kingdom, m’lady,” Qutaybah said to the Palaran Queen, turning on his horse to speak with her.
She said nothing, but nodded her head silently. An invasion was inevitable, and she had expected such a move and had prepared for it. They were ready. The bulk of her armies were camped just at the other side of this main border crossing. They would fight fiercely to protect their kingdom.
Some of her forces she commanded here. A small expeditionary naval force was sailing to the port of the royal city in Mirnee, whilst the rest remained in harbor. The naval forces would aid Ganry in his battle from within Mirnee. She hoped he was safe, but she knew him well, and he would be in the thick of it, fighting for his homeland. Ganry would be looking for weaknesses, and a chance to kill the leader and close the portal.
By evening, all troops were through the woodlands. Just as it had magically op
ened to let them pass through, it quickly closed back up behind them. They rode into the open plains of Mirnee, and decided to camp for the night. The sun was already low in the sky and it would soon be dark.
“How did you come by such an amazing forest?” Myriam asked Qutaybah as they sat around a camp fire, eating the day’s hunt.
“No one really knows for certain. Different generations have different accounts. My favorite is the one about two farm houses that were situated in this great open plain. One was in Vandemland and the other in Mirnee. The farmers often squabbled over the exact border line, and grazing rights for their cattle. They both decided to plant a tree at the bottom of their land, to mark their own borders.
“One dark night, the Mirnean farmer felled the Vandemland tree. The next day the Vandemlander bought a magical seed from a witch. Within one single night of planting it, this single seed covered the whole area with saplings. A week later, it was a full forest, just as you see today. They say the Mirnean farmer’s cottage can still be seen deep in the forest, and his spirit haunts the area. Since that day, any Vandemlander can pass safely through the forest unmolested, as can those who do not mean us harm. If you enter the forest with any evil in your heart against Vandemlanders, you will never make it through.”
Myriam looked back over her shoulder at the forest. She could just see it on the edge of the horizon, and shivered. Although grateful for its protection, she still felt uneasy at its obvious powers.
“Tomorrow we head to the Palaran borders, and deal with the witches who’ve created the magical barrier there,” Qutaybah said. “For now, we should rest. The ride ahead will be hard in this accursed weather. I just wish we could be rid of this infernal darkness, and the constant rain storms. It slows down our advance.”
The camp settled down for the night. They had come organized with tents and tried their best to take some protection from the rain storms. Despite the conditions, Myriam was soon fast asleep.
She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but when a noise awakened her it was still dark. Myriam lay there, straining to hear any sound that might seem out of place. Suddenly, she could hear the clash of metal on metal, and she quickly jumped up and grabbed her sword. Sleeping fully dressed meant she had only removed her armor, but there was no time to put it on. As she exited the small tent, she met with Artas, who informed her that a small party of demons had attacked the camp.
They moved together towards a group of soldiers, where Qutaybah was commanding his men in battle.
“M’Lady,” he bowed slightly when he saw her approach. “We have this in hand, but I think there’s something here that might interest you.”
She followed his lead and soon looked upon a group of soldiers who surrounded a small number of demons. The battle was not going well for the creatures, as a number of them lay dead on the ground. Perseus was leading the attack, and was in hand-to-hand combat with someone Myriam recognized immediately.
“It’s Rochmyr, the boy’s bodyguard,” she stated, staring at the giant.
“I thought it was, m’Lady,” Qutaybah nodded. “What do we do with him? The rest are almost beaten, and some have already fled.”
“We must not kill the giant,” Myriam turned to Qutaybah. “He may be possessed now, but we must do all we can to capture him alive. Hendon or Grecia will know what to do with him.”
“He’s a giant m’Lady, and fights like a demon. He’s already slain a number of my men,” Qutaybah informed her as he watched his men fighting the last of the evil spawn.
“Please, Qutaybah,” the Queen pleaded with him. “He is loyal to the boy, and fought bravely against the witches in Palara a few years ago. I feel we owe him the chance to be saved from this fate.”
Qutaybah looked at the Queen, then at the giant who was fighting with his Perseus. It would be difficult enough to beat such a voracious fighter, let alone take him alive.
“We will do our best, m’Lady,” Qutaybah said, as he joined in with his men in trying to subdue the giant.
“I should help,” Artas spoke, drawing his sword and joining the affray.
Rochmyr was the only one of the attackers now left standing. Around him lay the bodies of his fallen companions, and a few of his enemies. He watched as the soldiers surrounded him, but he kept them at bay with his huge club, which he swung before him. No one dared get too close, for a single blow from the giant’s weapon would most certainly mean death.
Darango, the demon inside of Rochmyr, cursed himself for his impetuousness. It was he who had ordered the attack on the humans. Now he realized that all was lost. Surrounded and outnumbered, he admitted to himself it had been a foolish plan to attack this party. Darango the demon was always rash and impulsive. He watched the humans closely as they surrounded him, especially that damned dark skinned warrior who had plagued him incessantly, sticking him at every opportunity with his sword. If he was to die this day, he was determined to take that devil with him.
Glancing to his right he saw two further warriors joining the attacking group. One of them sparked a warm memory, deep inside his head. Rochmyr, the giant half human, still had a tenuous link to his mind. He had not completely lost ahold of himself, and seeing a familiar face sparked more life into his very essence. Nevertheless, the demon still controlled his body, and he swung the huge club down on a human. Artas only just managed to avoid the blow, as he dived to one side. Darango had a sudden need to kill the newcomer. He knew not why, but he did not question his instincts. Some faint lingering thought in his head had been stirred by the sight of him, and it angered Darango. So much so that he lost a little control. He lunged at Artas again, swinging his club before him and scattering the other men until he was almost on him. As he towered over Artas, he raised his club and brought it crashing down.
Artas used his sword to parry the blow from the club. The giant swung it down, aiming for his head. The force of the blow was too much, and his weapon was swept aside as a numbing pain shot through his arm. His actions saved his life though, as the parry diverted the course of the club, and instead of his head, it crashed into the ground beside him. Still, the force of the strike had knocked Artas off his feet, and onto his back. The giant stood astride him, a smile of triumph on his face as he lifted his club once again, readying to smash it down on the human’s unprotected body.
“Rochmyr!” Artas cried out in despair. “It is me, Artas. Your friend. Do you not recognize me?”
Something flickered again deep in the mind of the giant. Much to the demon Darango’s anger, he shook his head to rid himself of the feeling. If he could just kill this man, all would be well, and he would be back in control. Again, he lifted his club, intent on crushing this troublesome insect. To his disbelief, his arms did not move. Instead, they stayed by his side. No matter how much he willed them, they did not obey his command. Instead, his fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, loosened their grip on his club. It fell to the ground.
Artas watched Rochmyr closely, waiting for the killing blow and unable to do anything to defend himself. His own arm numb and unresponsive, he could do nothing in defense. Yet, it never came. He saw confusion on the giant’s face, and watched with disbelief as the club slipped from his hands.
Perseus was quickly upon the giant’s shoulders, and before Artas’s eyes, he transformed into a huge snake. It coiled itself around the giant’s upper body, squeezing him tightly. The giant struggled and grabbed at the creature with his huge hands, but to no avail. The snake had his arms locked tightly by his side, and he could not free himself. As the snake squeezed harder, the giant’s face started to turn blue as the very air was crushed from his lungs. A blankness came into Rochmyr’s eyes, and his jaw became slack. He stumbled to his knees, falling forward to the ground.
The snake held him captive for a short while longer, its huge head staring at the passive face of the giant. A forked tongue flicked in and out, before it released him and slithered away. Perseus changed back into the human form of himself.
>
Artas stood up, his arm throbbing with pain, and walked over to the prone giant. He sighed with relief when he saw his chest rise and fall. How they would keep him subdued when he awoke, he had no idea. For now, he was just relieved that they had managed to overpowered him, and that he still lived. If they could exorcise the demon that controlled him, Rochmyr would be a valuable ally in the battle ahead, and a friend returned.
“Quickly!” Qutaybah ordered his men. “Get stout rope and tie him. I want him secure for when he awakens.”
39
The demons were in retreat of the Mirnean wild wolves’ rampant attacks, all directed by Grecia the shaman from Palara. She had cut through them, scattering them into disorganized groups. Now, they ran for their lives.
Grecia knew the war was not yet won. More of these foul beings could arrive yet. It was time to gather the wolves and regroup. Time to prepare for attacking the larger army on the borders. With Torno by her side, she felt better able to fight these strange creatures.
Cronos had not yet returned, and he was long overdue. Neither had she seen any Asgwern flying in the skies. Her concern for him was rising. His decision to take on the group of Asgwern was rash, and now she feared the worst.
Grecia found a quite spot, leaving Torno to marshal the wolves. Squatting down, cross legged, she focused her inner mind, scanning the skies and searching for Cronos and his flying beast. Closing her eyes, she moved her search to the ground. Images flew through her head, the landscape, the rivers and forests. All manner of creatures were laid bare to her, but no sign of Cronos. As she was about to give up, something, or someone, brushed her vision. Looking closely she observed a swirling mist. In it she saw the image of an albino. Just for a moment she thought it was Cronos, but it was too big to be him.
Put the battle aside, for now, Grecia, shaman of the wolf people. The albino addressed her. I will guide you to the boy. I am his spirit guide. He lays injured not an hour’s run from here. Go. Go to his side and help him.
