by Rex Hazelton
The sound of hoof beats intensified, throbbing heavily through the night's moist air. Shattering branches were heard all around them. Huge creatures, moving through the woods, were making their way to the Oakenfel's home. Every nerve ending in Jeaf's body was at full alert when he realized a fight was inevitable. The blood in his ears beat louder than Bear's boots thumping on the forest floor behind him. Then all at once, brilliant light, radiating from Jeaf's house, a light he knew a thousand candles was responsible for, could be seen knifing its way through the greenwood, warring against the night's deepening darkness and the dangers that had come with it.
With only a score of trees separating him and his companions from his father's workshop, two huge clay giants plunged out of the woods and onto the trail. Alynd and Jeaf quickly slipped their lumbering grasp and sped by. Once out of the giants' reach, they turned to face the hulking monsters' gray featureless forms. The light, bursting out from the Oakenfel's home, revealed arms and legs that could only be distinguished from the rest of the body by the separation movement produced.
The behemoths lunged at Alynd and Jeaf, who, once again, sidestepped their clumsy efforts. But before they could regroup, Bear and his huge metal-studded club was upon them, bashing them over-and-over again, his braids flying, his curled lips snarling his disdain. Though their bodies contorted with each devastating blow, no sound of broken bones was heard coming from their malleable bulk.
Holding the clay giants at bay, Bear roared, “Run Jeaf!”
Grabbing the young Woodswane by his shirt sleeve, Alynd pulled him away from the fight and towards his home. An erratic sound of beating wings, filling the air, swooped downward towards them, chasing the two men across the yard that abutted the house. It was as if a flock of birds were pursuing a swarm of insects. Scitter! Flap! Scitter! Flap!
Knocking as loud as he could, Jeaf shouted for his parents to open the door.
Alynd, his eyes flashing blue light, turned to ascertain the valiant giant's situation. “Go now... You must escape!” he shouted, before stepping forward to meet the deluge of evil that rushed upon them.
Suddenly, the door opened and the young Woodswane was pulled inside the house and into his parents' arms as the door quickly closed behind them. “Jeaf, we were so worried for you!” Aryl pulled both his son and wife closer. “Koyer's advance guard has been here for some time. How were you able to get by them?”
“Father, Bear and a minstrel named Alynd helped me. But I fear for their lives!”
“Do not, Son,” Aryl replied. “Alynd is much more than a minstrel and Bear's fierceness is unmatched. Plus, two of Bear's brother giants have been standing guard over our house and will come to their aid. Yet, the best I think they'll be able to do is to save their lives. We'll have to save our own!”
Elamor broke in. “The power of the candle's light will protect us!” Frowning, she added, “Though I wish more of my order was here to help.”
“If the candles don't hold back Koyer's magic, we must get to the tunnels.” Aryl was referring to a set of passageways he had, long ago, dug into the hill sitting behind the house. Created as escape routes, for just such an occasion, the tunnels led to a set of natural limestone caves.
Outside, the sounds of struggle abated, and a hush took its place.
The real storm was approaching!
Peering out of one of the holes, cut into a thick panel covering the windows, a hole arrows could be shot through, Jeaf saw a menagerie of weird creatures standing on the cusp of the forest withdraw several steps and then part. A dark towering figure of a man stepped into the opening, someone Jeaf's Powers of Intuition told him was opulent with evil.
After gazing long and hard at the Oakenfel's home, the towering figure turned and began giving the foul collection of warriors orders.
“It's Koyer!” Aryl spat out his disgust. “I didn't think he did his own dirty work.”
Looking intently at his wife and son, Aryl spoke with great urgency. “Listen closely! If the power of the candles doesn't hold out, we'll have to make a run for it! Jeaf, you'll take the first tunnel. Your mother and I will take the other.” Aryl force a smiled as he added, “We'll meet up as soon as we can.” Grabbing a hold of Jeaf's shoulders, he added. “Son, your mother and I love you with all of our hearts. Don't forget all we've taught you. It'll serve you well in the days to come. Most of all, remember… you are Fane J'Shrym!”
Jeaf read his father's thoughts, thoughts conveying determination more than fear. Our race has just begun. Do not despair. Though Aryl lacked the Powers of Intuition his wife and son possessed, he knew Jeaf would hear his mind.
Son, this time Elamor's mind reached out to him, trust your heart. It will not fail you.
“Shouldn't we stay together?” Jeaf complained.
“No, you have a better chance of escaping on your own. Seeing Koyer here, makes me suspect he may not be after me, or your mother, at all... I don't know what happened at the Eyrie of the Eagle, but whatever it was, it's forced Koyer's hand, and that means you may be the focus of his attention.”
No! No! No! This can't be happening! Jeaf's mind shouted before he spoke. “I haven't come all this way just to leave you!”
Tightening his grip on his son's shoulders, Aryl spoke commandingly. “You must live! I now know, you are the whole reason why your mother and I came together. Son, we'll survive! Don't think a Woodswane and a Candle Maker don't have a few tricks up their sleeves.”
Each kissed the other and exchanged affections, before Elamor added, “Aryl, don't discount the power of the candles. Our having to flee may not be as unavoidable as you think.”
“I hope you're right.” Aryl squeezed his wife's hand.
“Oakenfel!” A thunderous voice cried out, a voice intent on intimidating those it addressed. “I'm Koyer, the Lord of the Isle of Regret. Come outside so we can talk.” Koyer was a man of towering height. Draped in a black cloak that fell like a curtain to the ground, an imposing collar rose high above his head. Eyes, glowing like coals of fire, surveyed the field of battle.
“Sir, I'm not a lord as you yourself claim to be,” Aryl replied. “If you have something to say, you should talk to Cane, the Eagle King, whose realm you have trespassed.”
“My business hasn't anything to do with the King of Birds!” Koyer blurted. “My business is with you, Fane J'Shrym, and with your cub.”
“Fane J'Shrym, you say!?” Aryl snapped back. “What possible business would you have with a lone Fane J'Shrym and his son?”
“I want to remove the particle of dust irritating my eye, that's all.” Koyer sneered as he explained his reason for being there.
“If that's all, why have you bothered to come all this way yourself? Why not send one of your white henchmen to do your dirty work?”
Koyer's cloak, filling with air, rose about him looking like huge leathery wings as he strode forward. “My friends tell me the particle of dust is larger than I first thought.” His eyes glowed brighter as he advanced. “Haven't you heard how your son has disquieted the Eyrie of the Eagle. Even now a warrant is being put out for his arrest on charges of murder.”
Koyer was referring to the Soldier of Truth Bear had killed.
Perplexed, Aryl frowned at Jeaf before shouting, “How does that concern you?”
“The peace of Nyeg Warl is my concern, you miserable wart!” Koyer's voice grew hot with anger as he roared his response. “Open now and I will have mercy on your wife. If you refuse… she will share your fate. Your son is a murderer and you both have the criminal blood of the Fane J'Shrym flowing through your veins! Open now or Elamor will face a fate worse than death.” The Lord of Regret sneered as he added, “You do know there are things that are worse than death, don't you?” A deep throated chuckle rippled up against the house's heavy timbers, sending vibrations across the room that lay within. “Who knows, maybe I'll persuade her to become the first Candle Maker to enlist in the White Guard?”
“We'll not open up for a dog li
ke you!” Elamor spoke out with a threatening voice, the likes of which Jeaf had never heard before. “The light of the candles will not let the darkness you cloak yourself in pass through the door. Depart, lest you bite off more than you can chew!”
“Superstitious woman,” Koyer grunted. “You trust in a candle's flame? Don't you know, I light my banquet hall with your candles? And as for the matter of biting off more than I can chew… we shall see.”
Sounds of laughter, stomping feet, and fluttering wings erupted in approval over Koyer's words.
Looking out the window's opening, Jeaf watched as the imposing black figure faced his macabre troops with arms uplifted. His dark cloak, flowing from his wrists all the way to the ground, enlarged his presence, adding validity to his boasts.
Sweeping about to face the house, Koyer clapped his horrible hands together and gave a command. “Come forth my servants!”
At first, the young Woodswane thought he had ordered his troops to attack, but he soon found his intentions were quite different. KKKRRRUMBBLLL! The house began to quake as the power in Koyer's words pummeled the walls.
In response, Elamor shouted out her own command. “Magical light, cut through the night and chase away evil's might!” The illumination cast by a host of candles grew in intensity with each word she spoke, until the house glowed as bright as a furnace.
Once again, The Lord of Regret clapped his hands together, summoning his power before he barked out his commands, over-and-over again, as if he were trying to beat the house to pieces with his voice. “COME FORTH! COME FORTH! COME FORTH!”
Soon, the house's heavy door and the wooden posts reinforcing it began to make cracking noises. Hearing the sound, Aryl gave his own command. “To the tunnels! Now! Before it's too late!” Wrapping his arms around Elamor, who stood with eyes closed and the palms of her hands defiantly pushed out against Koyer and his minions, Aryl pulled his wife to the back of the room where another heavy, wooden door was located.
Reaching for the latch, Jeaf heard a loud explosion behind him. Turning, he saw pieces of the front door being sucked out into the night. The air in the room followed, making a gushing noise as it went. Then, as if in a dream, his mother's candles began rising into the air. Slowly twirling, end-over-end, they floated out the broken door. First it was one, then ten, then hundreds of candles cartwheeling through the air on their way to where Koyer stood. Could these candles be the servants Koyer was calling for, Jeaf wondered.
Not wishing to give up so easily, aware they needed time to make good their escape, Elamor inhaled air into her lungs, air that snatched the flame from off the last candle still standing in the house, carrying it to her. Once it arrived, the tiny flame, suspended in midair, waited for the Candle Maker's orders. Flickering a hands breadth in front of Elamor's face, it leaned forward. “To the house you must go and with your touch make it glow. Burn all the wood you can see so my family may have time to flee.” Elamor spoke her command knowing they would never return, not to this home, not to a place Koyer knew about.
The tiny flame bobbed as if it were acknowledging her command. Then it leapt onto the nearest wall and began racing along the timbers, leaving a trail of fire and smoke behind. Up-and-down it went, rapidly, until it jumped to another wall, burning all it touched. The fire grew so quickly, Jeaf begin to think they might not escape before they too were consumed in the tiny flame's fury.
Without any further hesitation, the young Woodswane opened the door and he and his parents passed through. Aryl handed one of three torches to Jeaf, a torch he had stored inside the tunnel. Then, after each looked intently into the other's face, the family parted and ran across the chamber's floor, that was larger than the house it was joined to, and out towards a brace of tunnels exiting from the rear wall. Only two of these would take them to safety. The others were decoys that opened into unchartered caverns filled with crevices, fathomless in depth. Before the young Woodswane entered his assigned tunnel, he paused to watch his parents disappear into their appointed escape route and wondered.
Chapter 8: Jeaf's Escape
The door behind Jeaf groaned. He turned to see a foul creature peering out from the voracious flames burning behind it. Snapping its brown stained fangs, fangs stained by the drug it was fond of using, the hunchman's huge eyes narrowed as they spied the young Woodswane.
Oh no! Though he had never seen a hunchman before, by all that his father had told him, Jeaf knew his chances of escaping were now in doubt. Few had ever shaken off a hunchman, once it had them in its sight. Their love of the chata bean was largely responsible for this. Growing on the barren heights of Nyeg Warl's highest peaks, this powerful stimulant enabled the hunchmen to stay awake, days on end. Whereas, a normal person would die if they were to eat just a small portion of the bean- usually, because their heart would beat out of their chest- the hunchmen were invigorated by its use; their strength was multiplied; their ferocity was inflamed. Since their prey needed sleep and they didn't, the advantage was theirs.
Many assumed the use of this powerful drug explained why no elderly hunchmen had ever been seen. A short life, they thought, was the price the creatures paid for their dangerous habit. But the teeth hanging from the necklaces they loved to wear told another story.
To celebrate a kill, be it man or beast, the hunchman would keep one of their victim's bones as a trophy. Though bits of this were woven into their thick head of hair, and bracelets cleverly carved out of bone adorned their ankles and wrists, their most prized trophies were teeth, a tooth per victim. If one were to hold one of the hunchman's necklaces in their hands, they would see, along with the teeth of deer, boar, bear, wolf, a smattering of human, as well as some indistinguishable teeth, the most common trophy were fangs taken from other hunchmen. Certainly, the chata bean had devastating side effects, but it was doubtful the hunchmen allowed others of their kind to live long enough to suffer their habit's full consequence.
Though things looked bleak for Jeaf, hope was not entirely lost, for Aryl had prepared a little trick for the beast-man, something to help his son elude its grasp, that is, if he could run fast enough and far enough.
Called hunchmen because of the way they carried themselves, bowed at the shoulders as they were, their well-muscled arms were disproportionately longer than their legs. As a result, it was not uncommon for them to travel on all fours. Once on the move, their broad shoulders rose well above their drooping heads that were usually sniffing the ground with their elongated snouts. Their large moisture-filled eyes made them adept at maneuvering in darkness. It was for this reason, among others, that Koyer employed them as his personal bloodhounds.
Others believed Koyer used them for other nefarious reasons- like catching children. They came to this conclusion because the sightings of these creatures, often-times, correlated with unsolved kidnappings that were all too common in Nyeg Warl.
The sight of the creature reminded Jeaf of the time he met a madman. Driven to lunacy by the demons waging war against his mind, the fellow claimed a hunchman had kidnapped his baby boy, some months earlier. At the time, the young Woodswane, who was just a child himself, had been exploring the woods around his home when he heard a ranting voice coming towards him. Climbing into the branches of a nearby tree for safety's sake, Jeaf saw an unkempt man- whose hair looked like snarled yarn and whose finger nails were long and blackened with earth- was the source of the ravings. As he was passing beneath Jeaf's perch, a piece of bark fell and hit him on the shoulder. Looking up, the madman caught sight of the young Woodswane hiding behind the tree trunk. Seeing he was only a boy, the pathetic man's demeanor softened. Imploringly, he asked, “Have you seen my boy Thed?”
Reluctant to respond, Jeaf answered, softly. “No sir… I haven't seen him.”
“Woe upon woe, wound upon wound, how evil life has become!” The bedraggled man moaned. “Young man, have you seen any hunchmen in these parts?”
“No sir, though I don't know what a hunchman is. I don't think I have.”<
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The young Woodswane's response caused the madman to stomp about. “What is a hunchman, he asks! I don't believe I've seen one, he says! Well, if you had seen one, you wouldn't have forgotten the watery eyes and evil snouts these dream thieves and heart crushers have, the fiends that ripped the life out of my bleeding heart when they snatched little Thed from his crib.”
Pulling on his hair, the madman renewed his wailing. “OH NO! OH NO! OH NO! They've taken Thed and it's all my fault. I'd heard Old Clar had seen one scrapping its way through the nearby mountains, just the night before. If I'd only believed the stories I'd heard about them, things would have gone differently. I'd have held Thed tight all that night and on all the nights that followed. But alas, I did not and the hunchman stole my dreams. Now I'm doomed to wander about in cursed guilt and pain. OH NO! OH NO! OH NO! My little Thed is gone.”
Looking back up at Jeaf, he asked, “Will you help me find my son?”
“Sir, I would if I could. But I am only a boy myself.”
“Then when you grow up, will you promise to find Thed for his dear old father?”
Jeaf answered. “Sir, it would be my honor to find your son for you, when I grow up.”
Having heard these words, the madman quietly replied, “Thank you.” And then he stumbled off into the woods weeping as he went.
Now, after all the summers had passed since that day, Jeaf was finally meeting a hunchman, and the thing was looking right at him. This made him wonder if Thed had ever been found, or if he were still alive. But even if he were alive, the young Woodswane could not save Thed, not now, not unless he first saved himself.
