“I do not know why I came here. Recently, I have revisited places from my childhood. I thought of this place and…I don’t know,” Mieka replied sighing.
“Perhaps you seek places of fond memory to relieve the guilt you now feel. Merric’s distress at your betrayal could be felt through the very bones of Kantwell. It saddened us greatly,” the Oakkrin told her.
“You could sense Merric’s feelings here, all the way from Kantwell?” Mieka asked in shock.
“Aye. We are connected to the world and have always been. Very little cannot be detected by merely listening to the rhythms of the world around you. That is how we know also that your Garoliths are approaching. They seek the Lord Micah. If you have come to aid them, then know that you will die.”
“Come now, the Avari Lord is good, but to deal with two Garoliths and a wizard is likely to be much more than he can handle,” Mieka replied incredulously.
“We did not say you would die by his hand,” the Oakkrin replied cryptically.
Mieka’s eyes narrowed as she looked to the wolves surrounding her.
“Yes wizard Mieka, the Grove Wolves have grown quite fond of the Avari Lord. Any hostility toward him in this place will result in retaliation by them. They not only guard us, but him as well,” the Oakkrin informed her.
“I do not wish to harm them or you, and I did not come here to cause you distress. I will leave in peace,” Mieka spoke softly.
“Perhaps the reason you came here is that you are unsure of the course you have embarked upon. Listen to the heart of the child you were. Merric does not deserve what you have put him through and we think, in your heart, you know that. Consider carefully the course of your future, wizard Mieka, before that future is no more.”
Mieka bowed slightly and spoke the words of transport, vanishing from the grove.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Micah returned to his home. He had gathered the scattered Avari from their various posts and transported all of them to The Slot. Commander Salic was relieved to see over four hundred more Avari reinforcing his position. Micah had given them his orders, which amounted to getting their assigned positions from Commander Salic; though he had made it clear that when it came to the battle they were to use their own judgment.
Micah moved to his bedroom and refilled his flask from the large silver vase hidden there. Just as he was returning the vase to its hiding place, he heard a howl at his front door. Sounds of growling and snarling were followed by a loud yelp. Micah quickly downed a bit of the liquid from his silver flask as he ran toward the sound of battle. He nearly tore the front door from its hinges as he barreled through it.
Outside he saw two hideous creatures fighting nearly a dozen Grove Wolves. Instinctively, Micah reached for his swords then remembered that they would do him no good against these monsters. His front lawn was alive with circling and charging wolves. He could see two of the great wolves lying on their sides a good distance away. Micah’s acute hearing could pick up that their hearts were still beating, and he was relieved. He sent a mental command to all of the wolves telling them to back off and hold their positions.
“So your Master has sent you to do what his feeble wizards could not, eh? Well come and meet your deaths, misshapen ones,” Micah called in challenge to the two Garoliths.
The glowing red eyes of the Garoliths focused on Micah. The huge scythes they wielded were poised to strike at anything coming within range. “The Nine Key has commanded your death, Avari Lordling. It is our pleasure to carry out such an order,” One of the Garoliths hissed as they began to move forward.
Micah laughed, a deep echoing sound, which caused the wolves to stop their pacing and look at him with ears laid back against their heads. “That is an order much easier given than carried out,” Micah replied as his face suddenly changed. His eyes glowed as bright and as red as the Garolith’s and his teeth elongated into fangs. Micah’s fingernails grew in length as he flexed his fingers.
Both Garoliths paused seeing the change come over Micah.
“You are not a man,” one of them hissed.
“I never claimed to be,” Micah replied.
As the two Garoliths turned to look at one another, Micah shot forward. Against mortal foes, Micah was all but invincible. Yet, against these creatures he was unsure. The Garolith’s heads snapped toward Micah and they both reacted faster than he would have thought possible. They separated and slashed out with their scythes trying to catch Micah between the two massive blades.
Micah leaped at the very instant the two blades descended. He caught one of the scythes just below the blade and, with tremendous strength, twisted his fist, snapping the blade from the scythe. The Garolith quickly brought the shaft of the now broken scythe up and reared away from Micah. Micah took note of its movement and as his feet hit the ground he rolled to the side. The wind whistling off the second Garolith’s scythe told him he had been in the line of attack. Micah drew his sword in his left hand from across his body since his right still clutched the blade and what remained of the shaft of the other Garolith’s scythe. He completed his roll back to his feet and swung his sword overhanded at the shaft of the descending scythe. The sword sliced through the shaft with very little resistance, so great was the force of the blow.
In one fluid motion, Micah sheathed his sword and swung the scythe blade at the second Garolith. The creature was damnably fast and was able to twist its body out of the path of the blade. Micah dropped the scythe blade and launched himself sideways and up at the first Garolith, hoping the change in direction and tactic would take his enemy by surprise. It worked. He was able to lock his hands around the skeletal throat of the first Garolith however it was fast enough that it also caught Micah around the waist.
The Garolith tried to pull Micah away, but his grip was as strong as that of the Garolith. Without pause, Micah gave a wrenching twist with all of his strength and had the satisfaction of hearing bones crack and snap. Immediately, Micah felt the hands of the Garolith loosen so he pulled himself in close and braced his feet against the monster’s chest. Without releasing his grip he pushed with his legs away from the Garolith and pulled against the neck. A loud splintering sound echoed off the surrounding forest as Micah was propelled backward, skull and several vertebrae still clutched in his hands.
Tossing the lifeless skull aside, Micah’s feet barely had time to touch the ground before he was forced to roll to his right to avoid the whistling shaft of the second Garolith’s scythe. Micah came slowly and deliberately back to his feet facing the remaining Garolith.
“I had thought your kind would pose more of a challenge,” Micah said with a wicked grin on his face.
The Garolith did not respond, but lashed out again with the shaft of its scythe. Micah moved with inhuman speed and caught the shaft in his right hand stopping it instantly. The Garolith tried to pull the shattered shaft away from Micah, but it might as well have been incased in the side of a mountain.
Micah, still grinning fiercely, yanked the shaft from the Garolith and with lightning speed, swung it at the side of the Garolith’s head. The shaft connected with a cracking sound and the Garolith was knocked almost completely over. Instead of rising up, the Garolith turned, and staying low, darted for the forest, moving as fast as its serpentine body would propel it. The Grove Wolves started to give chase, but at a silent command from Micah, turned and headed back to the grove of the Oakkrin.
Micah took off at a run, his keen eyesight locked on the fleeing Garolith. The creature was fast and its body moved with such agility that the thick growth did not seem to slow it down at all. Moving as fast as he could, it would take him some time to overtake the monster so Micah spoke the words of transport and teleported a short distance ahead of the Garolith. Micah came instantly to a stop and turned to face the creature.
The Garolith saw the obstacle in its path and veered to the right to try to get around Micah. Micah remained where he was, gauging the creatures speed and its path, then with inhuman sp
eed he was suddenly right before the creature. The Garolith tried to dart to the left, but Micah was faster and, as it turned its head in the direction it intended to go, Micah struck out with his fist. He connected with the Garolith’s head in a downward strike which caused the creature to plow, face first, into the ground and sent its tail soaring over in an uncontrolled somersault.
Without hesitation, Micah mounted the creature's back and wrapped his hands around its throat. As he was twisting in an attempt to break the neck, as he had the first Garolith, the creature righted itself and reared up and backward, slamming Micah into a nearby tree. The crushing force of being pinned between the Garolith and the tree would have rendered a human nothing more than a bloody pulp stuck to the side of the tree. Micah grunted with the force of the blow, but maintained his grip and twisted with all his strength. He felt the bones beneath his hands splinter and separate. Micah pushed off from the tree and yanked upward at the same time. The tattered black robe and the skull with part of the spine tore away from the body.
Micah landed on his feet with feline grace still clutching the remnants of the monster in his right hand. He watched as the body slid slowly to the forest floor then spoke the words of transport that would take him back to the clearing by his house. Once back, Micah went instantly to the closest prone wolf. He recognized the big male. It was Rafe and he was already dead, the side of his great face missing. Fearing what he would find, Micah moved quickly to the other. As he got near, he could see this one was still alive, but its breathing was very shallow. He kneeled down and nearly gasped as he saw that it was Jewl and the way she was laying, he could tell her back was broken.
Micah knew he didn’t have time to get help, the sun was already rising so he removed his little silver flask and drank down the entire contents. As the precious fluid hit his throat, he saw all of the doors in his mind reopen save for the one golden door. He stared at the door wanting nothing so much as to be able to open it and heal Jewl. What was the name Michael had given the door? Ianua Vita; that was it. The Door of Life. Micah, kneeling beside Jewl, had one hand resting gently on the side of her head. Her eyes were closed, but he could sense that she knew he was with her. He could sense that she wished to be left in peace to die as she must.
Micah refused to contemplate her death and kept concentrating on the golden door. “Ianua Vita, Door of Life, please open. A friend is in desperate need,” Micah said softly.
The door began to glow softly as he concentrated on it.
Michael had transported a large group of the men from the elven camp to The Slot. He figured between Merric, Mathis, Prince Rein and the elven druids, they had enough people to transport the rest. He looked around. Where he had come in was approximately where he had teleported to previously when he had seen Dain in danger through the scrying basin. No one was around save for a couple of guards, one of them, a huge ogre. The human and dwarf guards were standing side by side with the massive creature, so he must be an ally. The guards had taken note of the appearance of so many men and had moved to block the passage into The Slot. Michael started to walk over to them, but was stopped suddenly by a terrible feeling of desperation.
Merric came through with about seventy-five men. He scanned the area and saw Michael beginning to walk toward the guards. Merric saw him suddenly stopped. The look on Michael’s face told Merric instantly that something was wrong. He started hurriedly in Michael’s direction, but Michael muttered something and was gone.
“Damn! What now?” Merric swore softly.
Looking at the men, he did not see Branik anywhere in the bunch and with his size, he would've stood out. At least Michael seemed to have taken the Avari with him. Knowing there was nothing he could do, Merric hailed the guards at the entrance to The Slot. The guards, upon seeing Merric, relaxed somewhat and the human ran to him.
“Guardsman, expect more men. We are bringing them through as quickly as we can,” Merric informed the man.
“Yes, Wizard Merric,” the guard replied and ran back to his fellow guards.
Merric felt a light hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his robe.
“Please forgive me, Wizard Merric. I did not mean to startle you,” Ataum said, lowering his hand.
“It’s quite alright, Prince Ataum. Michael’s sudden disappearance has me a bit distracted at the moment,” Merric explained.
Alissa was off to the left side of the entrance standing next to a scrawny shrub. As Merric watched, several more elves stepped out of the shrub. It was an odd sight. The shrub was only about two or three feet tall and the elves seemed to instantly grow in size as they stepped out of it. Merric shook his head and focused on Ataum.
“Did you need something, Prince?” Merric asked.
“I just wanted to inform you that we will setup in the rocks above,” Ataum said pointing to the rocky sides of the pass.
“Good. I will inform Commander Salic of your position.”
Ataum nodded once and ran off to a knot of Forest Guard that had gathered nearby. After few words, the Forest Guard split into two groups and made for the cliff faces, a druid accompanying each group. Merric watched one of the druids as she spoke to the rock wall. He could not hear what she said, though he could see the effect; the rock shifted and flowed slightly creating hand and foot holds that the guard climbed with swift elven efficiency. Higher up, ledges formed that the elves could stand on and shoot from.
Merric walked up to the guards blocking the entrance to the pass. “Please inform Commander Salic of the elves' position. I have to return to Kantwell to bring more men through,” Merric informed them and, without waiting for a reply, spoke the words of transport.
Michael found himself back at Micah’s house near the Oakkrin Grove. It was pitch black so he held up his hand and said, “Lumen.” His fist began to glow brightly. As he looked around, he couldn’t quite grasp what had happened, and then he saw the corpse of the Garolith and Micah kneeling next to a prone Grove Wolf.
Branik and Reek were cautiously scanning the surroundings, when they saw Michael run forward, they instantly followed.
“Micah, what has happened?” Michael asked, looking down at the wolf.
“I cannot save her. The door will not open for me. I have tried and tried, but I cannot do it,” Micah whispered miserably.
Michael could see the wolf was barely breathing so he wasted no time. He fell to his knees next to Micah and placed his hands over Micah’s.
“Vigoratus,” Michael chanted quickly.
The wolf's breathing shuddered and grew steady. She raised her head and stared at the two men kneeling beside her. She rose to her feet and shook herself vigorously.
Michael rose to his feet, but Micah remained where he was, head bowed.
Jewl cocked her head at Michael and then lowered it and touched Micah on the top of his head with her nose. Micah reached up with his arms and wrapped them around the massive neck. Michael could see his shoulders shake slightly. Jewl raised her head up, bringing Micah to his feet. Micah held the embrace for a few seconds longer then let go. Jewl nudged him with her head then turned to Michael and nudged him as well, nearly knocking him off his feet. She bolted from the little clearing toward the grove.
“Micah, what happened here?” Michael asked as he once again caused his hand to glow and looked around at the torn up clearing.
“I assume Mortow sent a couple of his monsters to eliminate me,” Micah replied as he walked over to Rafe’s lifeless body.
Michael followed him, but he noticed that Reek and Branik hung back. He looked questioning at them, but Reek merely gestured for him to continue. They went to examine the corpse of the Garolith.
“Did the Grove Wolves kill the Garolith?”
“Rafe was a strong hunter and loyal member of the pack. I remember the day he was born, though it was nearly one hundred years ago. I can still see him crawling over his siblings eager to be on the move. I remember playing with him as he grew and his first hunt. He wasn’t the f
astest or strongest of his litter and though I loved them all, he was my favorite,” Micah said as if he had not heard Michael’s question.
“What is the protocol for burial?” Michael inquired softly.
Micah turned and looked at Michael for the first time as if just realizing he was even there. “The Grove Wolves are taken to the Oakkrin when they pass. Their bodies are placed at the base of one of the great trees and left. The Oakkrin take care of them,” Micah explained.
“Do you want me, Reek and Branik to take care of him?”
“No. Tonight, I will deliver him myself. He died defending me. It is only fitting that I see him on his final journey.”
“I am sorry, Micah,” Michael said, placing a hand on Micah’s shoulder.
“He was a warrior. He died a warrior’s death and, from the looks of it, that death was mercifully quick.” Micah began unbuttoning his shirt and removed it. He placed it over the ruined face of Rafe and patted the big wolf one last time on the shoulder. Micah rose and saw Michael staring at him with a stunned expression. “Have you never seen tattoos before?”
“Aye, I have; but never anything like those,” Michael replied still staring.
Micah’s chest, shoulders, stomach and upper arms where laced with interconnected geometric patterns done in blue, black, green and red. As Micah moved his right arm, Michael could see the pattern did not stop at the elbow as he had first thought but continued down the inner arm ending just short of the wrist. It seemed so out of character given Micah’s sophisticated mannerisms and cultured nature.
“They were drawn on me by my father in the ritual to pass his magic on to me. It took nearly a month for him to complete them.”
“So your father passed his magic on to you. I did not know that was possible.”
Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) Page 31
