by Sanders, Dan
It was the Spartans and they hadn’t given up.
Daimon tried to shoo the birds out of the cave but they darted back. He picked up a larger stone and crouched behind one of the rocks. The birds hid on the ground behind him.
Shadows from the attackers blocked the remaining sunlight, and their angry voices echoed on the rocks. They looked around for the boy and saw nothing. Daimon held his breath as they entered the cave. They pointed to Daimon’s pack on the ground. Fool, Daimon thought.
The shouts were louder, more sure. A large boy with a bare belly called the others into the cave. They formed a line and called out to their victim, taunting cries of revenge.
Daimon had no choice. They would find him soon enough. He surged from his hiding place and slammed into the boy with the big belly as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground. He grabbed his pack and dashed for the opening.
Screams of victory erupted, and just as evening light from outside peeped in, the attackers grabbed Daimon’s hair and dragged him back. He thrashed about, escaped their grip and ran to the rear of the chamber.
The birds dived into the fight and beat their wings around the Spartans. The surprised boys covered their heads, once again avoiding the scraping claws. The birds had momentarily pushed back the attackers. Daimon threw wild punches, hoping to stop the fight in a single blow. He was a swordsman, not a fighter.
Darkness closed off the last light in the cave and blindness surprised both attackers and defenders. He might have a chance in the dark but the sheer number of boys was too great, and like a herd of horses they eventually burst into the cave. The boy with the belly grabbed Daimon by the robe and threw him backwards against the large circle in the rock wall.
Daimon tripped and his loose sandal caught on a rock in the sand. It moved. With his arms splayed like a cross, he fell with his back onto the wall. His fingers grabbed the rim of the embedded rock circle for support. And then his palm with the black disc touched the circle wall.
He didn’t have his blade. He couldn’t see his attackers, let alone fight them. With his hair dangling in his face Daimon growled at the Spartans, ready for his final beating.
But the boys stopped. Daimon wondered what had happened. He saw a blue glow reflecting off the astonished faces of his attackers. The birds hovered in front of him.
He turned his head and stared. The wall was changing colour. Although it happened in an instant, the moment happened in slow motion, a moment he would play over and over in his head for years to come.
At first, the rim of the rock circle glowed white. Then the circle centre shone turquoise. The turquoise circle turned, slowly at first, then faster, picking up speed, yellow and pink and white mixing in a blur of pulsing colour. The colours on the scared faces of the Spartan boys flashed rainbow.
The birds squawked and flapped and bobbed. Daimon felt himself dragged into the swirling circle, its hum filling his ears. His fingers were losing their grip. Could he lean on the pulsing colours to let himself down?
The big-bellied Spartan boy saw his chance. Under the coloured lights of the cave, his eyes gleamed a ghostlike victory. In a hulking movement, elbows high, he stepped forward and shoved Daimon in the chest.
Daimon groaned as he was sucked into the swirling circle. He saw his loose sandal fall from his foot. And the cave was gone, only blue light visible as he tipped upside down, unable to breathe, his stomach heaving, blood rushing to his head, gasping, perspiration on his cheeks, fear and thoughts screaming in his mind; Mother, Father, Alexi, Helena, Mother…
The last thing he saw was the two birds bursting through the blue light, before he gave up and darkness swallowed his mind.
Chapter 3
Gorgos Instructs Torek
FORTRESS OF TOREK MOTHFOOT, ABANDONED LANDS,
ANNWYN
The Abandoned Lands were the land of the undead, the Arglyth. There were no animals, no humans, no trees and no streams; just rows of rocky valleys blistered on the landscape of what was once a land of vibrant beauty, the most wondrous in all Annwyn.
Wedged atop a mountain was a lone castle, its black crystal spire flickering against a sky of red and black, tall in the howling winds of fire and ice that had lashed the castle for millennia.
The Lord of these lands sat on a throne carved from dark gold and black crystal, pondering a bald man on his knees before him. The Lord Melder, master of the four elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water, wore a dark-green cloak. His face was unseen except for two red dots pulsing under his hood, casting a bloody glow on his face. His gnarled fingers twisted a red crystal. He ignored the winds that screamed against the fortress windows.
The man before the Lord Melder was short, bald and wore the well-known royal bracelet of Gardsvor on his wrist. Farther back in the chamber, two rows of Melders stood silently watching, their faces also covered.
Nobody saw the sweat beading on the bald man’s face or that his left hand shook as he delivered the news.
“My Lord, my sources tell me the Ibendari King has secured the vote of Queen Rhinffrew of Gardsvor.”
“Vote to what?”
“To join the Confederation of Annwyn.” The man swallowed. “She is leaving the Coalition, my Lord.”
For a long time the only sound came from the wind and rain.
When the hooded cloak spoke the sneering baritone voice was calm. “Her disloyalty must be punished.”
“Yes, my Lord. I will see to it.” The man backed away, staying low, his face hidden.
“I have not dismissed you.”
The man froze in his brown travel robes. “Yes, my Lord Torek.”
Torek rose, his feet concealed under his garments. He floated across the floor, gazed down at the cowering man, and then spoke to the other hooded figures. “Is the Coalition of Independent States important?”
The Melders intoned in unison, “Most important, my Lord.”
“If it is so important,” Torek said evenly to the bald man, “why did the Queen change her vote?”
“The Melder Magas persuaded her that their future is with the CoA. I could do nothing, my Lord—”
“Interesting…” Torek mumbled to himself. “Why would Melder Whiteoak be involved in the affairs of the Confederation of Annwyn?”
“I am unsure my Lord. Some say the time has come and he is preparing the way.”
“Preparing the way for what?” Torek said.
“They say the Wellwyn Prophecy is to be fulfilled.”
“They say that, do they?”
“And that the Circle of Six will be formed.”
“You were her closest advisor, Tibbet. Why did you not help her see the error of her ways?”
The man bowed lower. “I am her advisor. Nothing more. She has a strong mind. And she suspects nothing about our… understanding.”
“I know she suspects nothing. But you are no longer her advisor.”
A withered finger poked from beneath Torek’s robe and pointed at a large upright mirror floating at the edge of the chamber. Grey light from outside reflected off the intricate twists of emerald on the mirror’s edge. At Torek’s commands the crystal disc burst into life, swirling into a black hole of night and stars. When the swirling stopped, they all saw the live image of a young woman, her sandy hair and shaking fingers wrapped around a young boy with black curly hair. They stared at the floating portal in their home.
“No,” groaned the bald man.
“Your family, Tibbet?”
The man nodded, his eyes pleading for his family in the floating disc.
“Papa,” the boy screamed to the bald man.
The red dots under Torek’s hood pulsed brighter. He spat at the bald man’s family, “This man was a failure. I will send him home as a reminder that failure, even for Earthlings, cannot be tolerated.”
Torek held up the red crystal, and spoke in an ancient tongue to the stone. At his command a tendril of lava light reached across the chamber and wound its way around the stunned Tibbet.
Grabbing his head the bald man screamed, “By the Gods!” He floated into the air, writhing in pain as a black cloud surrounded him, his screams of agony in harmony with the death song from outside. The screams became a whimper, a gargle, and then silence. The woman and the child screamed in terror but no sound was heard. The cloud cleared and the bald man lay prone, arms dangling, suspended above the polished grey floors. His mouth was open, his lips cracked and burnt, his eye-sockets hollow and black. Torek pushed the floating corpse through the air until it stopped in front of the mirror. He lowered his hand. There was a crack of bone as the man hit the floor.
The woman had covered the boy’s eyes with her shaking hands. She squeezed her own eyes shut.
The faces in the disc evaporated. Torek turned to the other Melders in the room and continued, “Earthlings and their gods, so weak. Why do the leaders on Annwyn continue to tolerate them in positions of high service?”
Torek hovered between the two rows of robed men. He faced the last man before speaking. “Blade, she will not be the last to betray the Coalition of Independent States. We must make an example of her, but our hand must not be seen.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Blade said. “Will we still pay a visit to Overlord Darius?”
“Of course. The Jalpari are a neighbour of Gardsvor. We will check on his progress.”
“I’ll prepare for travel, my Lord.”
The young Melder and his brethren were near the tall silver door when time suddenly stopped. The hall became silent and night seeped through the walls. Floating crystals that provided the hall’s green light snuffed into blackness. The men in the hall froze, unaware of this new intrusion, their eyes blank and their robes as stiff as marble statues.
Torek was the only one not frozen in time. He levitated towards the centre of the room and looked anxiously at the darkness forming in the chamber. A black cloud hung above the floor before a single green cat’s-eye larger than a boulder peered into the throne room.
A crushing mental voice rammed into Torek’s mind. “Torek, the Prophecy is coming to pass.”
“But the seers of Wellwyn are fools,” Torek offered.
“There has been a disturbance in the lattices between Earth and Annwyn. Eostra has wielded her hand. You must find the Chosen One and the Prophecy.”
The red dots under Torek’s dark-green hood nodded in humility at the mental force ringing in his head. “Dissonant One, where will I find them?”
“Listen carefully, Lord Melder. The Chosen One is an animal from Earth. She has been instructed in her new destiny. She will endeavour to lay Eostra’s Egg, the hidden crystal stone of harmony, at the centre of Eostra’s realm, the multi-space meridian between the Twin Worlds. We must act while her power is still fragile.”
The dark cloud swelled and crushed the powerful Melder into his throne. He felt the mental voice commanding his mind. “You will intercept her journey and send her back to her world, or destroy her. If you fail, Eostra’s power of the Elements in both worlds will be complete.”
Torek pondered his response before replying, “Dissonant One, Eostra’s Melder, Magas Whiteoak, is working with the confederation. Perhaps they are linked.”
The cloud pulsed silently. The Melders remained frozen.
The mental voice spoke. “Our time is at hand, Torek. The deharmonisation of the land progresses according to my plan. Alendi has been cleansed, and readied for a new order. I will not waste three millennia of work for this interruption. Find the Chosen One, stop the Prophecy, and all we have worked for will come to pass.”
The ruler of the Abandoned Lands forced himself upright, bowed low in submission to the menacing cloud, spread his arms wide, and in acquiescent mental tones said, “It is done, supreme Gorgos.”
“Torek, I have groomed another who will help you.”
“But Master I—“
“Silence. She has the other half of the Zora Stone and has been groomed by me in the lost art of deharmonisation. She is among the ranks of the confederation.”
Torek looked at the red crystal in his hand and raised his hood to speak. Before he could ask another question, the green cat’s-eye widened and the black cloud briefly filled the room before imploding. Light, sound and movement again filled the prodigious hall.
Torek composed himself and with hands locked together in the sleeves of his robe, glided along the floor to his newly appointed Melder. “Blade, we leave at once. There has been a change of plans.”
The marble white face of the youngest Melder of the Abandoned Lands looked confused. Every window had smashed inwards. Millions of shiny shards lay in submission to an unseen force. He did not ask why.
The Melders filed out. The hall was now empty save for the charcoal body and its discarded Gardsvor bracelet. Torek and Blade walked side by side down the front steps of his fortress. Torek whispered and the two robes shimmered, evaporating into small black clouds lined with a glowing green. The clouds rose on a silver wind and disappeared across the Erandassi Sea, their destinies on a collision course with the Chosen One.
Chapter 4
Daimon’s Surprise
ADROS, Crystal CITY,
ANNWYN
Daimon sat bolt upright, gasped for air, rubbed his eyes and looked around. The room was simple and clean, with a grey stone floor and polished walls of pale green that resembled a peaceful forest glade. He shook his head, trying to stop the walls from gently pulsing in rhythm to his breathing. He opened his eyes and ran his fingers on the silk sheets; white with purple patterns? Where was he?
“It’s about time you woke up. I guess they were right.”
Daimon jumped up on the bed in fright. His foot caught in a sheet and he fell off the bed onto the floor. He peered over the bed and saw the muddy colored bird he had carried the day before.
“What… did you say?” His voice was tight and faint.
“You’ve been knocked out for three days, and I told them you were dead, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Probably a good thing.”
“But how can you… understand me?”
“Oh that. Don’t know. They won’t tell me. I blew a beak at first but it’s rather handy once you get used to it.”
He swallowed and said, “How did we get here?”
“The better question, Earth boy, is, where is here?”
“Where?”
“Yes, where. They say we are on another world. I can’t say the name yet but we’re not on our own land. And they won’t tell me where Emily is.”
Daimon stood and saw that the bed hovered above the floor. He said, “By the gods, young bird! What’s this sorcery?”
“It is fascinating, but again, you’ll have to ask them. And my name is Noogie. My friend who was with us is called Emily.”
Noogie held a wing out requesting a response from Daimon.
“Oh, my name is Daimon.”
Daimon slapped the side of his head three times before Noogie said, “What are you doing?”
“I must be drugged, or dead, or some other sorcery. Talking to a bird, walls that glow, beds… that float.”
Daimon blew his nose on the hem of his tunic.
“Yuk,” said Noogie.
“My head is blocked. Can’t help it.”
“Try,” Noogie said waving her beak in disapproval.
Just then a smooth voice rang off the crystal walls. “Your body must be adjusting to the translation between the spatially merged energy lattices.”
Daimon jumped at the intrusion. He turned, and then bit his lip to stop laughing at the two men standing before him. Their bald heads, as large as a watermelon, wobbled on thin necks surrounded by black cowls.
The taller of the men spoke first. “I am Emperor Heilyn, Son of Carthas, Supreme Ruler of Adros. Welcome Earth boy.”
Alexi won’t believe this, he thought. He wasn’t sure he did. Regardless, he had to get a hold of this situation and get back home. “My name is Daimon, son of Aspasia, squire to General Xenephon. I want some answers and I wan
t them quickly.”
The Emperor’s pasty faced wobbled in surprise. “My boy, remember your manners. We saved the life of you and your bird-friend here from the sure death of the Adros snow storms. You will have your questions answered, but in our time, not yours. We also have many questions of you.”
“Well, “Daimon said,” if you could find us, you can send us back.”
The Emperor glanced nervously at his guard before smiling. “All in good time, but for now you must rest. You have an audience with the venerable Melder Whiteoak.”
Noogie suddenly flapped her wings and hovered near the beak-shaped nose of the Emperor. “Please tell us where our other bird friend is? She is red.”
“Settle, young bird,” the Emperor said. “We did see another come through the portal but she was lost to the snow storm. She will rejoin with the land.”
Noogie lost control, swooping around the room, tiny pings filling the room as she bounced off the polished crystal walls, squawking and tweeting in anger. Daimon jumped around the room swatting the air, trying to calm Noogie. He eventually caught her, sat on the bed and gently patted her between his palms. “Shhh, we will find her, Noogie. We will…”
“You must find her,” Noogie whimpered. “She’s special. She saved you.”
Daimon’s blue eyes connected with Noogie’s tiny round eyes, eyes that blinked sadness without tears. “We will find her,” he lied, feeling sorry for them both. The red bird would be dead, he thought. But I owe it to her to get her home to her family, in my time, not when these weird monsters tell me.
Daimon stood and casually made his way towards the door, distracting the Emperor. “How did you say we came to this place? What do you call it?”
The Emperor smiled at the return of calm. “This land is called Annwyn. And you came through one of the portals that connect our Twin Worlds.”
“Mmmm,” Daimon said, now near the guard. “And when will this Magas-man join us?”
“He will answer your questions before the end of the next lunation.”
And before the Emperor’s next head wobble, Daimon reached forward and whipped out the red crystal blade attached to the guard and said, “Now, Emperor, I am not your prisoner. You will escort us safely to the portal for us to return to Earth.”
