The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor

by A. P. Stephens

  Setting foot on the first step, the foulest sort of odor engulfed them--the undiluted stench of death, making where they had been smell like fields of sweet flowers by comparison. Seth, feeling sick at his stomach, wanted to retreat to a pocket of fresher air but knew it was impossible. The door atop the stairs was broken into three pieces, two of them still hanging onto the hinges. What laid beyond the door was visible through the breaks in the once fine wood.

  Randor took each step slowly. Nearing the top, he saw numerous Mazazuken in the pillared room, ransacking and destroying every marble pillar and statue they could find.

  "Do you see something?" Arnanor asked.

  "Silence," Randor replied. "Say nothing." He gestured, and everyone readied their weapons. The much-needed rest they had hoped for was over, and battle was unavoidable. Seeing no sign of the Oracle, Randor feared the worst. His solid plans had now proved unfeasible. I wonder where he is, thought the wizard. There were far too many doors to search. Backing down three steps, he said, "There is an amendment to my plan, I am afraid."

  "What is going on out there?" Gildan asked.

  Randor hesitated, not wanting to alarm the Northern elves. "The room has been overrun by Mazazuken."

  Geil and Arnanor perked up and grew impatient with their motionless status. Frowning, Geil shook his head, feeling his old hatred rekindle as his weariness fell away along with the pain in his muscles.

  "We are heavily outnumbered," Randor admitted.

  "Good," murmured Malander.

  "What is your command?" Seth asked.

  "Guard the staircase just outside this door while I go in search of the Oracle. I will try his chambers first."

  Arnanor slapped his hand across Geil's chest and grabbed the elf-knight's full attention. "Don't you leave my brother again! This is your only function!"

  "Yes, my liege," Geil replied humbly.

  "I will kill you if you fail me!" His expression showed Geil that he was not fooling. "I won't hesitate--not even for you, my old friend."

  Bowing in respect, Geil took the words to heart. "You have my word, my lord."

  "And if the Oracle is not there?" Seth wondered.

  "Then follow me wherever I lead." Randor started up the steps again and pushed down a large piece of the door leaning against the pieces still attached to the frame and sprinted ahead. "Forth!" he shouted. A great howling instantaneously erupted, filling the mansion with its wretched sound, as all Mazazuken eyes focused on the company.

  Malander finished off the broken door and sent it skidding across the ground toward the first line of oncoming werewolves, who jumped easily over the projectile.

  Geil stood as close to Muron as he could without unbalancing the prince. In Geil's mind it seemed that all the Mazazuken were heading his way, and his excitement grew with each step the enemy took. Geil truly desired to charge into the very heart of the Mazazuken offense and exterminate as many as he could. Arnanor kept a close eye on his knight, making sure he did not leave his brother's side.

  "I have missed you greatly!" Malander shouted to his foes, grinning. "Come and meet your deaths!" He would be cured once again as the battle began, allowing him to forget his life of misery in the heat of conflict.

  Lorn, who was at the edge of the group, was soon pushed to the middle. As the oncoming threat came howling into range, the company spread outward, giving themselves fighting room.

  The beginning of the fray favored Randor's company, as they struck down the first beasts to come within blade's range. Thus far, Randor would be safe from harm in his search for the Oracle. The howls filled his ears, and he didn't bother to guess the number of Mazazuken. He had one goal in mind; he would leave the secondary task to his followers. Moving quickly up the carpeted flight of stairs, his cloak flying behind him, he reached for the closed door and looked back briefly at the pursuit. The wizard took leave into the chambers as the seven maintained their half-circle in front of the staircase. Still the Mazazuken warriors advanced from all directions.

  * * *

  Randor was submerged by the darkness of the void. No pool of radiant light greeted him this time. The Oracle was not here, and he lowered his head in disappointment as he ran toward the center of the great room, hoping his old friend would reveal himself. "You must come with me!" Randor yelled, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Your home has fallen under attack! Hurry while we still have time!" Spinning about, he found nothing, and as he stopped, a small beam of light shot up from beneath his feet. It was the pool of light, and his eyes were instantly drawn inward. Visions came, rapid and unclear. He stepped to the edge and watched in wonderment: indistinguishable lands and wars, then a vision of his seven companions just outside the door. They were in the midst of a great battle against the werewolves. The company looked to have the advantage, but dozens of the enemy were finding their way to the staircase, and he could see the worry and stress on each of his companions' faces. The vision soon faded, replaced with a horrifying spectacle of the company being overwhelmed and falling slain at the bloodied, clawed hands of the Mazazuken. Randor did not know which to believe as the random visions of nonsense returned. He wanted to break free from the pool but was deeply compelled to stay, his curiosity not yet content. Surely what he saw was not real, yet doubt clouded his thoughts. He did not know which to believe about what might be happening just outside. No sounds penetrated the Oracle's void, and Randor strained to listen.

  Taking his eyes off the door, he turned back to the swirling images within. What was this? From an eagle's point of view he saw a great valley set between two mountain ranges, a large, snake-shaped wilted forest filling the otherwise green landscape. What are you showing me? he asked the vision. Then his vantage point rose dramatically out of the valley and into the sky, a strange blending of day and night. The twin moons were brightly there--blood red. Randor heard screaming, though he could not tell whether it came from outside the room or from the vision. The screams intensified as the moons grew larger. Beldas began to crumble and glowed orange, burning away from the heavens, and in a gigantic flash, the moon was gone, along with the demonic cries.

  "Permission was not given to you," the Oracle spoke, startling Randor as he came from behind. "I thought I could trust you. Now I find you in my inner chambers, hoarding for yourself visions that only I am blessed to see."

  "I came to set you free," Randor replied sharply.

  "Why?"

  "Your mansion is not safe anymore."

  "Impossible," the Oracle laughed.

  "Are you not aware of this?"

  "I am all-knowing, my wizard."

  "Quickly, we must flee together!" Randor turned and started away, but looking over his shoulder, he found that he was alone in his escape. The Oracle remained at his radiant light, unwilling to move. "Are you staying?"

  "What did you see, Randor?" he asked, disregarding the urgency.

  "We have not the time to discuss this now."

  "The door is sealed. We will not leave until I receive my answers." He looked at Randor with a serious expression.

  Randor kept his attention on the door, wanting to break down the way to his company in need. The Oracle boiled with eagerness, not caring what happened to his home. Stretching forth his arm, he said softly, "Come, my friend."

  "Why are you doing this?" asked Randor, not understanding. Hoping to humor the Oracle into letting him escape, he returned and stood beside the light, feigning cooperation.

  "What visions of mine did you see?"

  "It showed what might well be happening just outside your chambers. Two scenarios played for me, and I do not know which is truth--if either is."

  "Please continue."

  Randor did not wish to think upon the other vision he saw, for it was too disturbing. Never had he felt such despair and hopelessness before. He attempted to place a name on the land he saw, but it was destroyed beyond all recognition. "The light showed me a long valley lying between two snowcapped mountain ranges. Within the va
lley lay a dead and wilted forest of pine that stretched beyond the horizon."

  "This is interesting."

  "Just as I was about to figure what it meant, the sky captured the image and revealed both moons." Randor began to sweat, his cloak growing heavier from the humidity. "Beldas shone bright orange and was consumed by leaping pillars of fire as it began to split open in all directions."

  "I have seen this as well."

  "Then it vanished in a great flash of blue light." Further detail flooded his mind. "I heard the sounds of screams."

  "Your senses serve you well."

  "What did you gather from this?"

  The Oracle shook his head as he probed into his collection of visions. "If I had known this, your quest would have had a superior beginning." He paused. "But you begin in a way that I find not apt."

  "It certainly has given me less hope in my quest. From what it seems, the moon has been destroyed in the heavens." The theory had not yet crossed his logic--then again, nothing was etched in stone.

  "It is likely," the Oracle admitted.

  "Perhaps it is," Randor replied. "For the time being I will not think it so. I believe Beldas is here on Londor…somewhere." The pool of light faded as the Oracle made haste for the door. It was Randor now who hesitated, but only for a split instant; then both hurried back to join the battle.

  "How did they break through my barrier?" asked the Oracle as they reached the door to his chambers. "I become emptier as time marches along. My magic is vanishing."

  "I had to lower it, I am afraid. The company could not progress with it raised."

  "And all this time I thought it had allowed you through and kept out only evil. Ethindar is punishing me for some reason."

  "He would never do that," Randor comforted. "It is not His way." And swinging the door wide, he said, "Lead us out of here."

  The Oracle nodded and steeled himself to leave his chambers. Two thousand years of solitude would now be undone, and he did not look forward to this. Randor took a deep breath and sprinted forward.

  * * *

  Despite the ranks of snarling, slavering Mazazuken relentlessly driving in at the company, no injuries had come to the seven yet. Piles of fallen werewolves lay at their feet and beyond, and their swords slung blood against the walls and onto one another's armor and clothing. The Northern elves were guided by a blind madness of revenge against their ancient foes, and Gildan and Malander took pleasure in the howls of the dying as the never-ending legions of Yindraken's army poured through the mansion's front door. How lucky that this countless clan wasn't in full number the night before, or things would have gone much differently for the little company of fighters. There was no sign of the Mazazuken leader anywhere, though Geil searched the crowd many times over between slashes of his sword.

  "Keep close together!" Gildan yelled out, noticing a small opening in the formation. "None shall get past us!" In the back of his mind Gildan worried for Randor, who had disappeared many minutes ago and should be back by now.

  Seth, too, was worried, knowing nothing of the turmoil behind the door to the Oracle's chambers. "We should go after Randor!" he shouted as he pulled his blade from between the ribs of a dying werewolf. "His magic could annihilate this entire horde!"

  "We have orders to stand fast!" Geil replied.

  As if in answer, the door to the chambers burst open, spilling out Randor and the Oracle. After two steps, Randor halted his charge and stared in disbelief at the hundreds of foul creatures before him.

  The Oracle stood frozen behind the wizard, dismayed that he had been unable to perceive the attack. In all its thousands of years, his mansion had never been invaded. There was nothing here of any real material worth, and no one of any importance dwelled with the Oracle. He did not hold himself highly, and the thought that anyone should want him was ludicrous. "This I do not understand," he said softly, his strength and willpower ebbing away at the horrid sight.

  "They seek you out," Randor informed him, grabbing the Oracle's frail arm. "This is why you must escape with us at once!"

  "There is no way clear to get out--all my doors are blocked by these…creatures."

  "Then let us make a way," Randor replied with an unexpected smile. He felt ready to wield his magic--a very uncommon feeling. "Are your offensive spells functional?"

  "I should guess they are," the Oracle answered uncertainly. Not all his gifts were completely gone, but the collection of offensive spells he knew were long unpracticed. Nevertheless, he would try to harness what he could. "We shall soon find out together."

  The company did not notice Randor and the Oracle until they heard Randor calling out, "Nara sen mothor lei nara!"The seven knew that it was a spell, and kept their senses sharp to watch where the magic would strike. Calling out the spell, Randor conjured four small flames of a brilliant blue, each hovering around his hand. He scoured the room for a major weakness and soon found it, in the center of the room. There stood the two largest pillars of the Oracle's mansion, not yet destroyed by the Mazazuken pillaging, and also the heart of the Mazazuken pack. This was the chance he needed, and the outcome would surely benefit the cause. Placing his hands one atop the other, he took the projectiles of blue light and reached back for momentum. Then Randor squinted his eyes in concentration and let loose his talent with a fierce outstretching of the right hand. The four orbs of streaking fire roared across the room, and in three seconds the magic hit its mark perfectly. As the two mighty columns crumbled atop the doomed werewolves, fire and stone ripped through the evil horde, annihilating all it consumed. Severed and burned body parts scattered in all directions, flying over the heads of the still untouched clan minions, who continued to charge inward.

  The Oracle, meanwhile, conjured a wordless enchantment, striking rapid beams of the purest light from his fingers from one end of the room to the other. As his magic hit the marble floor it shredded the polished surface into jagged boulders that served as weaponry. The Mazazuken juggernaut seemed to grow weak, and what resolve they had trailed away to nothing.

  "They are scattered!" Seth cried with excitement.

  The once thick lines of beasts wilted into handfuls of condemned victims for the company's blades. Randor escorted the Oracle carefully down the stairs and asked quickly, "Which way to the southernmost door?"

  "South?" Arnanor replied, shocked. "Our horses and supplies lie outside the northern gate. We must retrieve them before we escape!"

  "They are either dead or captured by now," Randor answered grimly. The prince did not wish to hear this. "With all the werewolves that passed our steeds, you honestly believe they remain untouched?"

  "Well…"

  "Nonsense, foolish elf!" Randor pressed his way through the company and asked again, "Which way to the south entrance?" The Oracle could only point to a door to his immediate left, and Randor shouted, "Follow me!"

  The Oracle opened the way with a slight gesture of his freed hand. Down they went into dim passage. The air smelled sweeter, and the path was narrow, obliging them to move in single file. As Malander entered last, he turned about and slammed the door, hoping it would hold out the remaining enemy. He had had a fair share of killing, more than enough to quench his desires for the moment.

  "What next?" Randor demanded. Not receiving an answer from the rattled Oracle, he shouted, "Tell me!" The Oracle caught his wind and pointed straight into the corridor ahead. "Are you certain?"

  "It curves a bit, but trust me, you shall see the steps to freedom in little time."

  "Will that door behind us hold?" Seth asked as he looked over his shoulder.

  "It will hold long enough for our purposes. Magic does not keep us alone, but all we need are a few seconds."

  "Seconds!" Seth shouted, wishing they could move faster. Panic gnawed at the young knight, and he felt exhausted. But life was at stake, and rest would have to wait. Growing up in the long era of peace under the Council, Seth lacked the experience of warfare, and fatigue came too easily. Under these
new circumstances, though, his training came fast, and the lessons would never be forgotten. "We must hurry! I can feel their breath against our necks!"

  Randor refused to acknowledge the absurd remark and kept his brisk walk. The farther the company pressed, the less the torches of the hallway availed them. The wizard finally felt the curving corridor and was relieved to know they would soon be outside, though what lay outside could only be guessed--but he would deal with whatever came. "How much farther?" All courtesy was gone from his speech.

  "Three hundred steps more, I would say."

  "Attention, everyone," Randor commanded. "As we come to the door you will make your way down a hill, where a large river snakes around its base. Chances are, we will become separated in the dense forest. Meet the Oracle and me at the wooden bridge that spans the river's narrowest point." He paused and gave them enough time to let the order sink in. "Am I clear on this?"

  "Yes, sir!" was the complete consensus by all except Malander.

  Randor took a deep breath. "Good luck, my friends," he said, meaning it, knowing that these might be the last words he spoke to any of them. He picked up his speed and barely saw the door ahead.

  The air grew crisp and cooler as they approached, and a faint glimmer of light shone through the narrow gap under the doorway. The path behind them was still clear, but more than once the company imagined noises at their heels. The mere thought of pursuers certainly kept Seth's and Lorn's feet moving as quickly as they might. Strong winds wailed in the world outside, audible even through the thick boards of the door.

  "Until we meet again," Randor spoke. His words trailed off as he opened the way at last.

  "Werewolves!" shrieked the Oracle. "There must be hundreds more on my hill!"

  "Count later!" Gildan laughed as he prepared himself anew for battle. "To war!" he cried, racing down the hill, weaving between the sharp-edged rocks that lay half-buried in the thin soil. The Mazazuken were in all directions and could not be avoided, which pleased the Northern elves to no end. As a sea of torches approached the mansion in no apparent formation from the werewolves, Gildan ran to greet the masses.