by Rex Hazelton
With her father fighting for his life, Muriel watched her mother reach for a bow and quiver laying against the nearby wall. Quickly fitting one of the arrows in place, the capable woman sent the deadly projectile into the chest of another of Schmar's children who was trying to enter the doorway to their home. Howling, mortally wounded by the razor-sharp steel perched on top of the rigid shaft, the creature stumbled off into the night. A moment later, another arrow cut its way into the forehead of her husband's adversary.
In the eerie silence that followed, Laz divested himself of the lifeless body laying on top of him before going over to check on his family's well-being. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Mara, after seeing Muriel nodding her head, said.
Taking full advantage of the lull in the fight, Laz returned the door to its former place, reinforcing it as best as he could. Soon, the sound of shuffling feet, mingling with the graying light of a new day, seeped through the cottage's shutters. Alerted by the noise, Laz figured the creatures were in the process of changing strategies, and the tell-tale smell of smoke quickly identified what that change would be.
“I love you!” He drew his wife close as he spoke.
For more than two thousand days, and at least twice that many times, the huntress had heard her husband repeat these words. But few of the other times matched the intensity with which they were now being uttered. Only on their wedding day, and the day Muriel was born, did he speak with such ardor, and each of these occasions marked a transition in their lives, a paradigm shift love had authored, but not so this night, for the ready pen of fate was now being held in the dreadful river-children's angry black hands.
Shaken by the vehemence of her husband's declaration, Mara's entire being tensed as she waited to hear his plan, the strategy that would gain their freedom.
“We're going to have to make a break for it!” the warrior-husband growled out. “We'll burn to death if we stay here!”
“I know!” Mara exclaimed. She had hoped the slain river-children would be a sufficient enough deterrent to break their attacker's resolve. Being knowledgeable in the intricacies of nature's balance, she knew that most predators, upon discovering their prey had the ability to wound and rob them of the skills they needed to continue hunting, usually cut off the chase. But not this time. Something greater than blood-lust was driving the river-children on.
Like a team of horses being pushed to the brink of a sweat-soaked death, the monsters were being prodded forward by another will, one that was manipulating the Warl's Magic, trying to pour thoughts of doom into Mara's keen mind, to weaken her resolve. But instead of shrinking back, something the malevolent presence hoped she would do, the huntress became enraged at the violating intrusion, a rage that infused her lean, muscular body with a fire surpassing any passion she had previously known.
“By the Fires of Darkness, they'll not gain their prize!” Mara muttered between clenched teeth.
“Laz, we can make our escape through the woodbox!” The words hissed from her mouth as she went to open the box sitting beside the fireplace and began removing the wood stored there. But before she could finish her chore, thick smoke began broiling into the room from the corner of the cottage. Hungry flames followed.
The heat from the burgeoning inferno, created a draft that sent a matching pair of rocking chairs swaying back and forth as if unseen specters sat in them warming invisible hands before the heaving fire. Ravenous dancing flames, casting eerie shadows around the room, only added to the illusion. Muriel gasped as she saw the weird sight, remembering how that only a few hours earlier her parents had been sitting in those very same chairs, filling her head with stories of the coming age of Parm Warl. But now hope for this glorious day's arrival was being smothered beneath the cloud of dark gray smoke ominously descending from the rafters above where it had gathered.
With the threat of suffocating smoke bearing down upon them, Laz bent over and picked up his daughter, knowing full well the creatures outside had started the fire to flush them out of their home. Hanging tenaciously onto her father's strong neck, as he set his plan into motion, the one he would use to thwart the evil designs the dark intruders had planned for him and his family, the little girl remained amazingly composed. Though frightened, as long as she was in her father's arms, she would not scream, nor would she cry.
“Muriel.” Laz lifted the little girl's hand. Nodding at the exquisite ring sitting upon her tiny finger, he spoke comfortingly. “Sweetheart, see this ring, whenever you look at it, remember that Mommy and Daddy love you with all of our hearts!” Then he kissed her on the cheek. “Will you promise to do that?”
The little girl stared at the beautiful gem that shone brilliantly as it reflected the devouring flames' light. “Yes Daddy! I promise!” She said not certain why her father was insisting she make the promise.
Setting his daughter down, Laz joined his wife, who had finished emptying the woodbox. Bending down, he unfastened several bolts holding the back of the box in place and removed a thick panel. More firewood fell through the opening from the outside. After tossing this into the room, Laz climbed through the place where the panel once stood. Slipping into another box, one sitting up against the cottage's exterior wall, he carefully lifted its lid. The approaching morning's grayness broke through the opening. A thick fog, having risen out of the nearby river, pressed against his face.
Hoping the assailants were preoccupied with the door and windows, Laz was relieved to discover that this side of the house had been left unguarded.
In time, the beleaguered family slipped out of the box, silently. Creeping off into the thickening morning fog, they hurried away from the greedy bonfire feeding lustily on their home.
Moving swiftly beneath towering trees, Laz and Mara spirited their daughter away from danger. Locked onto a barely visible game trail, looking like fog-shrouded phantoms, they fled beyond the cruel fire's roaring grasp. Filled with determination, they rushed past the fern and scrub oak growing amidst the giant trees. But to their dismay a bugle blast sounded nearby, telling them they had been spotted, and off they sprinted, more intent than ever to make good their escape.
Not long afterward, the clamor of pursuit was heard following behind and more bugle blasts forced their way through the vapor-choked air. A cacophony of notes sounded out, dizzying bursts of noise that could break the nerves of all but the strongest minds.
Laz's sharp mind, quickly calculating the race's logistics, knew the attackers were trying to flank them and cut off their escape route. Certain they couldn't out run their pursuers with their little daughter in tow, he slowed down. “Burn it with fire!” Bellowing a curse, the warrior risked quicker detection. But he couldn't help himself.
After setting Muriel down, realizing he couldn't carry her to freedom, the unkind demands of necessity pushed his slumping shoulders toward the moist forest floor. Only his hands, braced against his knees, checked his descent.
Tormented by the few options left to him, Laz forced himself up and began searching the surrounding forest's lush environs. After locating what he was looking for, he turned and gazed steadfastly into Mara's worried eyes. Then clenching his jaw muscles, he snatched Muriel off her feet and strode away from the forest trail. Hurrying to an old, hollowed out tree trunk, one draped in wild grapevines, he separated the tangle of foliage that partially covered the opening and slipped his daughter inside.
A knot welled up in the little girl's throat when she realized her father was trying to hide her in the dark cavity boring its way into the wood. Reaching her little arms outward in a fashion that signaled her desire to be picked-up, she was disquieted by her parents' unwillingness to do so. This unfamiliar experience, for they seldom refused her overtures, only enlarged the lump she felt growing in her tiny throat.
Pushing her hands down, Laz placed his face against his daughter's tender cheek and gave her instructions. “Muriel. You must hide in this tree. You'll be safe here, if you stay quiet.” Hoping hi
s daughter wouldn't detect the fear in his voice, he added, “Mommy and Daddy are going to draw the bad men far away. And after we've lost them, we'll come back for you.”
“But what if you don't lose them Daddy?”
“Sweetheart, your mother and I know these woods better than most... They'll not catch us, I promise you that!”
The chilling sound of a bugle blast, now perilously close, spurred Laz to give his parting instructions. “Remember the ring... It'll keep you safe until Mommy and I return.”
After each parent kissed her, the two most important people in Muriel's life disappeared into the vaporous ground cover's waiting arms. Sobbing, as she stared at her ring, heavy mists settled around her head, dampening her hair. Fighting the desire to cry, but not wanting to displease her father by disobeying his instructions, Muriel bit her lip, and as she did, the sounds of racing feet, pounding hooves and cursing, hidden behind a curtain of fog, filled the forest around her. The coldness she felt, as the raiders passed by, strengthened her resolve to remain silent and sent a drop of blood oozing out of a cut her teeth had inflicted on her lower lip.
After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, the warmth of the rising sun began to lift the vaporous cloak from off the warl. Would this make things better or worse, Muriel didn't know. But the one thing it did do was reveal the billowing smoke rising from the inferno blazing where her house once stood.
****
WHAT? The sound of distant bugles woke Muriel from a fitful dream, one where she sat perched atop the fur-covered cloud, high above the warl, so high she could see a line of distant mountain peaks jutting up into a thin layer of clouds on one side, and a dazzling swath of blue marking the presence of a far away sea on the other. A city lay on the banks of a river that eventually flowed into the blue swath. Below, she watched two people, she knew were her parents, running through a shadow-filled forest, looking like a pair of hinds fleeing the hunter's bow, moving in and out of sight beneath a dark green canopy of leaves. Behind them, a host of black specks raced along, helter-skelter-like.
Exhausted by the ravages of the adrenaline fear pumped into her, the black-haired girl had fallen asleep while morning settled upon the warl, and became the dream-rider again, for a time. Now fully awake, she listened to distant bugle blasts converging on one another before all went silent.
Not knowing what this meant, Muriel's worse fears began filling her mind. The only solace she found was when, much later, she heard a lone bugle sounding. She hoped this meant the monsters had failed to catch her parents.
An unbearably long time had passed by, still Laz and Mara didn't return, a length of time that wore down the little girl's weakening resolve.
With evening approaching, the smoke that had risen from where Muriel's home once stood was now gone. Eventually, her resolve buckled entirely when the stillness filling the forest, a quiet that oftentimes accompanies twilight, panicked her into imagining that slimy black faces and horrible round mouths bristling with sharp, stubby teeth were moving through the woods, retracing the path her parents had taken in their flight to freedom.
Feeling the raiders would find her if she remained where she was, the little girl stepped out of her hiding place and slipped off into the forest.
Daddy please don't be upset with me, she thought as her mind mulled over her father's last words. I'll go get Papa Grumky. He'll know what to do. Remembering how her parents had taken her to visit their neighbors, the Grumkyns, Muriel set off to find help she was sure her parents needed.
The Grumkyns were a stout couple who had two hardy sons and a daughter named Claran who was Muriel's age. Whenever her family visited the Grumkyns, it took them a good part of a day to reach their home. Not knowing what direction to go, Muriel tried to relax and let her memory guide her. Thinking the patch of forest ahead of her looked familiar, she headed off into the shadowy greenwood, hoping she had made the right choice.
Soon, the little girl came upon a river, as twilight deepened. This was puzzling, for she was certain her parents hadn't crossed a river on their way to the Grumkyn's. Standing motionless, Muriel watched the cold water heaving by. Intimidated by the river's power, she was about to turn away when the gnawing need for refreshment compelled her to reconsider. Stepping down to a patch of still water the river's main current had penned up against a gravel-laden shoreline, Muriel bent down to slake her thirst.
CCCRACK! The sound of a branch snapping echoed through the woods. Wheeling about, expecting to see the black monsters' red saucer-shaped mouths, Muriel was relieved to see a large buck instead. It was a magnificent animal that led six stately does down to the riverbank for their evening drink; but just before the great stag reached the water's edge, a loud gurgling noise rolled over the river's turbulent surface, alarming the noble beast, sending the herd bounding off into the darkening woods.
Watching the stag leaping away, with the last of the does breaking into an all-out sprint, the little girl whirled around to see what had frightened the animals. Squinting, she saw what looked like a dark boulder moving towards her, sliding along just beneath the river's surface. But before she could step away, water exploded all around her as one of the river-children leapt out of the deluge of cold spray and onto the shoreline next to her.
Screaming as only little girls can, Muriel lifted an arm to protect herself. As quick as a snake strikes, the creature's slimy hand shot out and grabbed her hand. Though the sheer horror of the moment gave Muriel strength to break free, the black monster didn't come away empty-handed. Sadly, its mean grip had inadvertently snatched her father's ring off her finger.
Admiring its beautiful prize, the creature's round mouth twisted into a gruesome smile. But its jubilation was cut short by a blinding burst of light. Stunned by the unexpected flash exploding out of the ring, the river-child discovered its arm had lost all feeling. Not able to control its muscles, the monster grimaced as it watched the ring slide out of its numb hand and plop into the river.
Intent on regaining the treasure it had lost, the thing used its good arm to grope about the river bottom. Enthralled in its work, the monster had forgotten about Muriel, nor did it hear the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
“Let the fool thing go, Chlun!” Another creature, sitting on a stallion as black as itself, gave the raspy-voiced command. The authority with which it spoke, identified the rider as being the leader of the foul troupe that was closing in on Muriel. “Can't you see the thing has some kind of magic that doesn't like you,” the horseman warned. “Best to leave it alone, unless you want your dead body piled up with the rest of the driftwood. Besides, we've come for the girl and nothing else.”
With its lifeless arm dangling from its shoulder, the creature spat at the water throbbing with the ring's muted light before trudging up to where one of its kin were roughly tossing Muriel across the commander's horse as if she were no more than a sack of grain. All the while, the little girl's eyes stayed riveted on the fading glow filling the shallows. And as her captor's horse reared up on its hind legs, triumphantly beating the air with its hooves, the light went out and hope went with it.
Chapter 2: Fifteen Summers Later
The tall grass growing on the banks of a babbling brook stirred as if by a spring day's breeze. Yet, all else stood motionless under the warm afternoon sun.
In time, the rustling ceased, and all was quiet except for the sound of birds taking flight from a nearby tree. Circling gracefully, the flock chose another arbor to rest in, one farther away.
A beautiful yellow butterfly hovered above a brace of bright orange-colored flowers. Pointing skyward, they looked like trumpets heralding royalty. Content with what it found, the happy insect sipped nectar until the grass began to stir again. Shaken from its colorful perch, broad yellow wings were soon flitting across the brook in search of more flowers. And as the butterfly flew away, the tall grass parted revealing a minuscule snout.
Tentative and uncertain of what it was doing, the tiny nose furtively sniff
ed the splash of orange-colored flowers before the underbrush gave way and an elegantly slender fawn stepped uneasily onto the brook's stony banks.
Once exposed, the young deer stood still for a long time warily surveying its surroundings. After sniffing the motionless air one last time, the fawn stepped over to where the eddying brook created an inviting blue pool of water and began drinking. The refreshing liquid had the affect of temporarily alleviating the little creature's apprehensions about being separated from her mother.
With her thirst abated, the fawn began browsing through the plump blades of grass that surrounded her, eating as she went. Soon, the warm sun and a full stomach made her sleepy. So, she looked for a place to lie down. But before the fawn's quest was completed, a sound in the tree tops caught the little animal's attention. Unaware of the importance of what she was seeing, the tiny deer drowsily watched the flock of birds return to the air, moving even farther away.
If her mother had been there, her vast experience would have warned them both that this feathery exodus portended ill tidings, and she would have been right, for an ominous shadow was silently slipping through a large patch of ferns just above where the fawn stood, unaware and succulently vulnerable.
In time, a shaft of unimpeded light fell on the shadow, revealing a mountain lion's powerful form. Methodically flexing and relaxing its muscles as it went along, the big cat moved stealthily forward. Silent as night, the beast slunk back into the dark underbrush. With its tail twitching in excitement over the deadly game it was playing, full of pride and with an appetite to match, the fierce cat let a muted growl slip past its teeth-filled jaws as it glided forward.
Plop! Startled by the rumbling sound, a nearby frog leapt into the water.
The tiny creature's frantic movements didn't go unnoticed. Having the effect of a blast of winter air upon the fawn's keen nervous system, the little animal froze in its tracks.
Yellow eyes, once just sinister slits, grew large as the big cat realized the tiny amphibian had ruined its plan of attack. Muscles tensed like bands of steel; dagger-like claws extended out of large padded paws; lips curled back, revealing the armory of fangs they hid. The carnivore was readying itself to speed across the remaining expanse of ground laying between it and its doomed prey.
