by Owen Black
Guderian tried to help. “That is my fault I—”
“Let me finish!” Arodon boomed. “If it is true that this…Realmlord…of the carnivores is attacking or enslaving the peaceful members of your kind, then this is certainly not something we would condone. However, I ask why should we be involved? This is not our fight. If anything, we are more like your enemies than yourselves.”
“But what about the struggles you have gone through, the efforts you have made to find peace?” Guderian asked. “You have found a better way than to kill innocents, or at least those unwilling. This evil monster is wiping out all of my kind and when they are done their bloodlust will surely spill into your waters. They will hunt your kind here and your world will certainly be his next conquest.”
A low roar erupted from the crowd.
“Nonsense!” Arodon yelled. “We live nearly a hundred feet from the surface and they cannot match our skill in the water. We may no longer fight amongst ourselves, but we train regularly. Let them come, we will destroy them!”
This was the audience he had come for and Guderian was not going to back down easily. “I have no doubts about your abilities but this man is ruthless. He will bring his war to your waters and thrust your peaceful lives into turmoil. Help us or not if we fall you will be next.”
“Fine!” Arodon yelled. “Let them come!”
Guderian shook his head. “Serves me right for seeking the help of murderers. Help us or not, your time will come.”
“Murderers?” Arodon questioned. “Did you not understand a word of what I said?”
“I speak of a group of my people that were taken from the shore nearly three years ago now. My sister was among them – another reason why I chose to come before you today. I take it something they did violated one of your precious rules as well?”
Arodon froze, surprisingly captivated by what Guderian had said. His eyes darted to a tall, skinny man with deep blue skin and a long robe made of seaweed that was standing nearby. The man quickly leapt up the steps and whispered into Arodon’s ear.
Arodon nodded and then yelled out at the boisterous crowd. “Silence!”
Of the possibilities that spun through his mind, Guderian never would have expected what happened next.
“We will help,” Arodon said, sending a wave of shock through the audience.
“Thank you,” Guderian said, amazed but also relieved. The fate of his sister had not been learned. He wondered how his question had triggered such a response.
“I don’t mean to sound unappreciative but I have to ask what became of the group I spoke of. Are they…?”
“They’re dead,” Arodon said grimly. “I’m truly sorry, more than you can ever know. We did not know their intent when they arrived on our shores so we brought them here, where they perished.”
Guderian’s stomach clenched and he felt sick having finally learned the fate of his long lost sister.
Arodon continued, “I fell in love with Ellonah and fought to spare her life. In time she grew to love me. She chose to stay here, you must believe that I would have set her free but she loved me. Me of all people!”
Guderian looked up at the Realmlord with shock upon his face. “You? And my sister?”
Arodon nodded.
Guderian’s mind was spinning with what he had learned. “Wait! A daughter, you said you had a daughter! Please, I must see her.”
“Not yet land dweller,” Arodon said firmly. “She is not ready. Perhaps if you survive the war but I will need something else from you first.” Arodon pointed to the tunnel from which Guderian had entered the chamber. “Go now,” he commanded. “Tell Tursia what you need. She will make the arrangements. We will discuss my demands before you leave.”
Chapter 25
Guided by a howling wind, endless waves of snowflakes plummeted from the sky and coated the five wary travelers in a chilling embrace. Although only eight days had passed since their journey had begun, the harsh climate had beaten down upon them with unrelenting force as if nature herself was settling an unresolved score.
The group was surrounded on all sides by the Bluemist Mountains, a massive, sprawling series of peaks and valleys that stretched to the sky where they eventually vanished into grey puffy clouds that hid their pinnacles from view. The land here was jagged, marked by blue-grey rock mixed with green snow-covered pine trees hardened to the winter and serving as the only shelter from the deadly cold. Breathtaking to some, the imbued rock sparkled magically when struck by the rare beam of sunlight, tempting travelers to linger a bit too long while the wintry elements sought to claim more victims.
A thick layer of white powder blanketed the landscape around them, washing out detail from the ground on which they walked, each step sinking deeper into the cold foreign depths and each step taking them that much farther from home. Turning back was not an option, but those less motivated most surely would have conceded long ago.
Due to frequent landslides the only clear passage was found at higher elevations that of course came with a price for those who dared risk it. The mountains had indeed served a purpose for those who lived in Avryndale because the area had remained relatively calm until the unrelenting carnivores had uncovered their location.
Mordigal glanced back at the three brothers who were struggling through the terrain behind. Not the tallest of men, the snow rose almost to their knees, making each step somewhat of a challenge. Although they lacked in strength and experience, the brothers were certainly determined and brave, even if lacking in sense. He had never met any of their kind before since kangaroos were quite rare, especially in the regions that he had traveled. As odd as they were, the three were certainly a fond representation of the species and he hoped, if he survived, to cross paths with more of their kind in the future.
As they had throughout their journey together, the practically identical brothers supported one another as they progressed. Mordigal grinned at their efforts when two – he gave up on trying to tell them apart days ago – struggled to support a third from either side, their arms clasped around his shoulders as they moved in unison.
Mordigal noted the grimace on the face of the middle brother. Over a strong wind he called to them, “Is he alright?” When he spoke his words were transformed into a smoky plume of breath that slowly mingled with the cold air and vanished in front of his eyes.
The brothers looked at one another as if deciding who would respond. Finally the one on the left yelled back, “Just lovely! Numb toes is all.”
The brother on the right added, “Clotch has enormous feet. You should see them!”
Clotch, apparently the middle brother, hastily separated from the others and gritted his teeth as he pulled ahead on his own, large feet and all, apparently steadfast on showing his independence.
Mordigal smiled then turned back to his front where Caballus had stopped on an elevated tree-lined ridge a short distance ahead, his wool overcoat flapping in the wind as he surveyed the land before them. Always alert for trouble, the tall giant of a man was leaning on a thick walking staff while he peered into the white blanketed trees that lined the natural path on which they traveled. Caution was critical. They were passing through a valley that put them at a disadvantage in terms of visibility.
“Hold up there,” Clotch requested. “I need just a minute.” He then double over and rested his arms on his knees, conceding in his failed attempt to travel unaided.
Mordigal wiped a light dusting of powder from his cloak and then yelled back. “Alright take a break. I’m going to take a look up ahead.”
Pushing through the snow he climbed a small hill and joined Caballus on the ridge. As he ascended, the path ahead came into view. To the west, the gap between the mountains narrowed considerably and led them down the hill into what looked to be ravine, likely carved by a dried up river whose bed lie buried beneath a coat of ice. Flanked by rock sides that climbed to a jagged cliff nearly a hundred feet above on each side, the gap stretched far into the distanc
e where it bent out of sight to the north.
They were off track and it shook them both.
“Definitely not the way we came,” Caballus said, his deep voice accompanied by a look of concern.
“We must have gotten off track in the blizzard earlier.” Mordigal glanced into the thick grey clouds that hid any trace of the sun while tiny flakes tickled his face. “Hard to tell but we should still be going west. At least the snow is letting up a bit.”
Caballus stared into the woody cliffs as if looking through them and into the very depths of the land itself. His alarm was obvious. “We can stick to the high ground or follow the ravine.” He then peered back at the brothers who had stopped to rest. “I don’t like the thought of being cornered, but I am not sure they can make it if we get caught in another storm in the open.”
“That ravine could take us anywhere,” Mordigal replied. “It could lead us back the way we came even.” He hated feeling trapped. If they followed the ravine their path was dedicated.
“Very true,” Caballus said before he shifted his attention to the other travelers in their group. Worry is a universal expression, shared by all, and it clung to his face with obvious certainty. “Either way, you know they will have to go on without us after we clear the mountains.”
“They knew we would have to separate at some point. If we can just get them to the other side of the range that would increase their chances considerably.”
“Do you know if they have any family back in Avryndale?”
“I don’t think so. Trussil told me they came with a caravan that arrived three years ago. A curious sort for sure.” Mordigal looked back at the brothers. Two were seated wrestling on a log apparently trying to stuff snow in the other’s hair, the third was not immediately visible. Tired and lost, they remained innocent and untainted by the horrors of their world, perhaps not realizing the peril that lie before them. His eyes fell back on Caballus but as he thought about the brothers going on without them, his words were silenced by concern.
As quickly as he had looked away, Mordigal’s attention shifted when a yell interrupted their conversation. Glancing back, he spotted one of the brothers emerging from behind a tree, apparently after having briefly ventured into the woods. The round-faced man was waving one hand frantically while he struggled desperately to hold his trousers up with the other. Awkward as he appeared, his clumsy movements were a feeble attempt to shield his otherwise exposed rear from view.
Quick of foot even in the thick snow, Caballus and Mordigal sprinted back to join their fellow travelers, anxious to hear the cause for alarm.
“Come on Clotch, we don’t want to see any part of that,” one brother called to the partially disrobed one, leading to an eruption of laughter from the others.
Clotch came to a halt in front of the group just as Mordigal and Caballus joined them. He was out of breath and shaken.
“What is it?” Caballus asked, cutting through the merri-
ment.
Clotch gasped for air while he fastened his belt yet any relief caused by this action was quickly dispelled when he managed to spit out one startling word, “Tracks!”
This word, spoken by an unassuming individual short of stature and lacking any intimidating traits, hung in the air as if a fierce demon had appeared before them and uttered it with a fiery breath. The boisterous brothers were silenced immediately.
Mordigal rushed to his side and grasped Clotch by the arm. “Where?” he demanded. “In the woods?”
Panting, the shaken man nodded and pointed into the woods, “Yes…lots of them. About thirty feet in or so.”
Immediately the three brothers withdrew previously sheathed short swords in unison and did their best to look ready for battle although their shaking blades gave a more accurate account of their confidence.
“Alright I’m going to check it out,” Mordigal said. He then turned to Caballus who was busy scouring the woods with his eyes for any sign of trouble. “If I am jumped I will run them up the cliff away from here. Take these three into the ravine if you have to.”
Mordigal then withdrew a pair of wooden daggers from his waist, took one look into the woods and then shifted his form to that of a wolf. Startled, the brothers stumbled back a step.
“Woah!” one of them said.
“Um…good wolfie, good, good…friend…not food,” added another.
As if amused by the attempt at humor, the wolf turned toward the source of the comment and gazed with pale blues eyes that looked to be formed from the very ice upon which they walked. The creature looked around while it sniffed the air and panted through an open jaw that spilled forth a purplish tongue over jagged teeth. Then, with a grunt, the wolf bolted into the woods, kicking back tiny chunks of snow as it departed.
“Glad he is on our side,” one of the brothers said.
Equipped with animal quickness and grace, Mordigal ran through the trees as easily as if crossing an open field. Thick snow clung to his paws yet the creature continued, guided by invisible messages delivered in the form of lingering scents in the air that assaulted his mind at an astounding rate.
His body was warm now, covered in a thick coat that was fed by a quickly pounding heart. Sounds trickled into his ears from all sides mostly fueled by an arctic wind that whipped through the trees, tossing leaves to the ground. The wolf kept his eyes low and focused as his head swung from side to side searching, ever searching.
He smelled something briefly and then it was gone. Several things. Gone now. Deeper he ran, past a fallen pine. There….no, something else. A strong odor to his right at the base of a tree. He stopped a second, sniffed it. One of the little men had been there. Marked it. Then he saw the tracks. Lots and lots in the snow. He lowered his nose to them. Still strong and fresh. Clawed toes. Danger. He crept down and slowly followed the tracks but it was hard, they were spread out. A pack perhaps. He looked in the distance, nothing up ahead. He knew better though. They weren’t far. He needed to go back. Hurry.
Minutes after he had departed, Mordigal emerged from the woods and shifted back to his human form. While he caught his breath he looked into the four sets of eyes that stared at him eagerly anticipating his report.
“Dogs most likely,” he said. “Maybe a bobcat or two mixed in. I spotted ten in all. They look to be heading up the cliff in the direction we were going. They can’t be far off. I would guess an hour or two at most. The trouble is-“
“They’re sticking to the trees,” Caballus said bluntly.
Mordigal nodded. “Exactly. They either knew we were coming or they knew something else was coming. Maybe bigger.”
Blotch pointed to Caballus and said, “Bigger? What could be bigger than that fellow?”
Not amused, Mordigal replied grimly, “The weather has been bad but the mountains are passable. We might just run right into the army heading for Avryndale if we take the ravine.”
The men looked at one another, silenced by a painful thought that all knew to be true. Even if their journey proved successful and they all returned with help, there remained a possibility that Avryndale, along with everyone they struggled to save, would already be gone.
Caballus grabbed their attention. “No going back now. It sounds like we have no choice. The ravine it is. Let’s get moving.”
Chapter 26
Through winding tunnels of remarkable craftsmanship, surrounded by the dark ocean depths that harbored life beyond his comprehension, Guderian was led by Tursia to the chamber in which he had awoken. Apparently secure in his intentions, no guards had accompanied them on their walk yet the two had remained speechless, their tongues captivated by the events that had just occurred.
Guderian’s thoughts were mixed with both shock and excitement. Having realized the fate of his twin sister and the existence of a young niece he longed to meet he felt strangely renewed. He wanted to see Joli so bad that his heart ached.
“I am forever grateful,” Guderian said to Tursia. He then recalled how Arodon
had admonished her before the crowd and added, “I’m sorry I put you in a difficult situation.”
She held up a webbed hand to silence his concerns. “We have rules and I chose to disobey them. I was well aware of the consequences.”
“Please thank Arodon for me.”
A hint of a smile appeared on her face and she replied, “Actually, you will get that chance yourself.”
Approaching footsteps echoed in their ears. Tursia took a step closer and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“I wish we had more time,” she said as she glanced to the tunnel leading from the room. She then looked back at Guderian. Her eyes lingered a bit longer on his as if she was conflicted.
Guderian began to speak but Tursia abruptly turned and walked away at a hastened pace, her toeless feet slapping the floor as she moved. He watched as she lowered her head in humility when she passed five figures that had emerged from the tunnel in front of her. The group was led by Arodon who, most notably, carried with him two swords, one in each hand. Being a man rich in knowledge of weaponry, Guderian noticed immediately that the jagged blades were made of an unusual light-colored substance that he could not identify.
The Realmlord was followed by two brutish blue-skinned guards and a pair of tall, black-skinned figures, with flattened, featureless heads and tiny yellow eyes that made Guderian shiver. Although frightening in appearance there was something familiar about them but nonetheless Guderian grew nervous when they approached.
“Relax outsider, you have nothing to fear,” Arodon said. “These men will get you back to the shore. If you survive the ascent tell them how to find your village. We will honor our word and send whatever help we can soon.” Arodon glanced away for a moment and then continued, “There is, however, something you must do for us in return.”
