by Rex Hazelton
The hunchman, sniffing the air nervously, looked first to Jeaf, then to the tunnel his parents had taken, then back to Jeaf. Finally, letting out a low growl, the creature took a tentative step forward- the necklaces he wore gently clattering as he did. As soon as he cleared the doorway, another hunchman, who had braved the inferno that was busily devouring the house, pressed in behind.
Seeing the second hunchman, the young Woodswane didn't hesitate any longer. Breaking into an all sprint, he dashed into the winding passageway. Though Aryl had dug many dead-end tunnels, those breaking off from his escape route to fool any who might follow him, Jeaf knew his only hope lay in speed. He seriously doubted the hunchmen would lose his scent long enough to stumble into one of the decoys.
Sounds of grunting and snarling followed close behind the young Woodswane. Only a firsthand knowledge of the winding tunnels enabled him to stay ahead of his pursuers. Jeaf guessed, by the amount of noise flying about his heels, the hunchmen had chosen him as their target, the bone they would fetch. This surprised him! Jeaf couldn't imagine why they would want him more than his renowned father, even if the prophecies of the Hammer Bearer -as far as he was concerned, uncertain prophecies at best- were taken into account.
In full flight, the young Woodswane broke out of the tunnel and into a large chamber that was a part of the limestone caverns running beneath the hill his home rested against. The roof of the chamber, rising above the torch light's reach, magnified the sound his boots made as they beat upon the clammy stone floor. He was nearly a third of the way across the chamber, when snarling noises intermingled with the echoes marking his passing.
Not two but three hunchmen poured out of the tunnel and sped after Jeaf. Two of them circled along opposite sides of the chamber, while the third bolted down its center. To anyone who witnessed this race, the hunchmen's long, loping strides would have belied the tremendous speed they were able to achieve, the hair bristling on their bestial heads as they went.
Galloping for the far end of the cavern, to a place where the hunchmen knew Jeaf's escape route lay, Koyer's bloodhounds quickly closed the gap. In the end, the young Woodswane barely beat his pursuers to the tunnel, and as he did, he lept over the chasm he knew lay just inside the passageway's mouth.
The lead hunchman was getting so close that it snatched at Jeaf with its claws, just as he launched himself into the air. The attempt at grabbing the young Woodswane, kept it from leaping at the precise moment its prey did. Soon, the man-beast found itself crashing against the chasm's far edge. As it snarled, trying to scramble up the crevice's lip, a second hunchman flew overhead and landed on its arm. The loud snapping sound bone makes when it breaks caused the creature to lose hold on the ledge, sending it howling into the black abyss below. When the remaining hunchmen paused to determine their companion's fate, Jeaf was able to reestablish some distance between himself and his pursuers, but he knew this would be short lived.
Unfortunately correct in his evaluation, the snarling creatures were soon snapping at his heals; but before they could catch their prize, Jeaf lept into a pool of water that marked the tunnel's end. Plunging beneath its cold surface, he swam a route his father had made him swim at least a dozen times before.
The first hunchman skidded into the drink and clumsily tried to follow Jeaf into its icy depths. But no sooner had it submerged itself in the inky bath, panic set in. Hunchmen hated water! They were creatures bound to dry earth and stone, and as such, the beast-man soon turned back and climbed out of the pool.
Aryl had prepared the watery passage with Koyer's bloodhounds in mind. He knew they loathed deep water and seldom ventured into it.
Standing in the light of Jeaf's discarded torch, growling and snapping in frustration over losing their prey, the hunchmen cast an accusing eye at each another. With their macabre necklaces swaying about, they began circling each other. “You miserable coward!” The gravily voice came more out of the man-beast's throat than out of its mouth. “Why didn't you follow him?”
“Coward, you say!” the hunchman who had just scrambled out of the water, replied. “Let's see how you like it!” But when it grabbed its accuser, planning on hurling it into the drink, the beast drew out a short, curved sword and slashed the offending arm. Cut, but not detoured, the wounded hunchman leapt forward and clamped its fangs on its companion's neck. Howling in pain, the man-beast retaliated by sweeping its sword downward, slashing at the offending hunchman's bowels.
Though only one would drag itself out of the tunnels, with a new fang numbered among its trophies, having to report its loss to Koyer brought into question who the real winner was. The Lord of Regret didn't like bad news. And even with its drug enhanced ferocity, the hunchman's savagery would be no match for its master's wrath.
Lungs nearly bursting, the young Woodswane emerged into another short tunnel that ended in another pool of water. Though blinded by the darkness, Jeaf was not concerned, for his father had thoroughly prepared him for this day. Carefully feeling his way forward, until he found water, Jeaf sat down to catch his breath before diving into the next pool, a pool he knew would carry him into the Roam River. But he didn't wait too long. Though he was told the hunchmen wouldn't follow him through the water, Jeaf thought he would rather be safe than sorry, lest one of the creatures gathered enough courage to attempt the swim. Swimming until he felt a current pushing up against him, Jeaf gently broke through the river's surface. Treading water, he looked about. Amazingly enough, a long narrow boat cut its way through the river, moving straight towards him. Terrified, the young Woodswane's imagination pictured milky-white hands pulling on the vessel's oars. Quickly filling his lungs with air, readying himself to, once again, plunge beneath the water's surface, a familiar voice caught his attention.
“Jeaf, don't fear! It's Alynd.” The minstrel's blue eyes, reflecting the moonlight's brilliance, were briefly extinguished when his wide-brimmed hat tipped downward. Reaching out, he helped the young Woodswane scramble into the long leaf boat that was wide enough for both to sit abreast of one another and long enough to hold a dozen men. A shallow draft made it look like a huge, elongated leaf had fallen into the water. The young Woodswane had never seen anything like it.
“How did you know where to find me?” Alynd handed Jeaf a cloak to warm himself and passed him a flask the young Woodswane opened and drank from. Its rejuvenating contents rushed through his body, making him feel more alive than he had ever felt before as he listened to his friend talk.
“Long ago, when you were a baby, I came to visit your parents. We talked about many things. One of the things we discussed was how you would escape, if your home was ever threatened. That's when Aryl told me about the river route.”
Struggling to understand the implications of what Alynd was saying, Jeaf asked, “Were you and my father able to foresee this day?”
“I would say, we were able to anticipate it, but only because we understood prophecy. Our foresight did not come by magical means. We knew Koyer would eventually cast his eye on the Oakenfel family for fear you were Fane J'Shrym. Yet, we also believed, he would one day view you, young Woodswane, as being a threat for more reasons than just your lineage.”
“How can this be?” Jeaf asked while emptying water out of his boots.
“From the day you were born, we've believed you might be destined to become the Hammer Bearer.” Alynd allowed Jeaf to take another sip from the flask, before he redirected the conversation. “Can I ask you about those things you saw while I sang at the Eagle King's banquet?”
“Why do you ask?” The young Woodswane stopped in the middle of ringing water out his shoulder-length hair. Turning to look up at his host, he saw the fiery blue eyes he had become accustomed to, eyes glowing with an inner light, eyes now peering over one shoulder.
Feeling his companion was still reticent to divulge his experience to a relative stranger, in spite of all he had said and done, Alynd answered, “I saw the amber light of sight descend upon you. So, I came over to
you and tried to meld with your vision to see the things that were shown to you, but I wasn't given wings as you were, and could only see you fly off into the night.”
“If you saw me fly away, then you must have seen me return?” Jeaf was challenging Alynd to divulge more of what he knew.
“Yes, I did see you return. Afterwards you dove into the heart of the Thangmor Mountains before bolting skyward with your wings set aflame.” The minstrel paused as he turned to look down the river. All the while, he had been steering the leaf-boat in a southeasterly direction, allowing the current to carry them along.
“Did I see something in your hands?” This time only one blue eye could be seen beneath Alynd's wide-brimmed hat. “Jeaf, what were you holding?”
“I think you already know.”
“You tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
Sighing, he replied, “It was a silver hammer, adorned with rubies.”
Alynd's head dropped as if he had just completed an arduous task. Nodding his head in acknowledgment, his silence sent them into a season of tacit reflection, each letting their thoughts float along with the river's current.
After a while, Alynd began to sing the Song of the Hammer Bearer, softly. And as if by magic, music drifted out from the woods lining the riverbank, music that accompanied the minstrel's singing. When Jeaf tried to discover the source of the sound, he thought he saw flower-laden dancers moving among the trees- others were playing flutes and lyres.
When the Hammer is found,
The eagle will soar, the lion roar
And grapes will grow on the vine.
When the Hammer sounds,
The breach will mend, the darkness bend
And children will run to the sign.
The music Alynd sang and his mysterious accompanists played, continued as the leaf-boat floated down the Roam River, making the young Woodswane feel like he was in a dream, a delicious one that stirred up longings for the greenwood, places wild and untamed. Energized by the drink flowing from Alynd's flask, his heightened senses absorbed the essence of the woods and water, night and stars. Finally, Jeaf asked, “Where are we going?”
“We're going to seek sanctuary in Mythoria. The magic found there will protect us from Koyer until you've had time to decide what you're going to do.”
“I've never heard of Mythoria before.”
“Not many have, young Oakenfel. Not even your father,” Alynd added. “Their magic is so strong, most of those who have seen their country can no longer recall the things they witnessed.”
“Then they'll be important allies to have,” Jeaf concluded.
“Maybe,” the minstrel said as he moved the long paddle to the other side of the boat as he talked. “Though they appear to live among us, I'm not certain they live in the warl in the same we do. It's this paradox that gives birth to their magic, and it's this paradox that makes it difficult to predict what they would do if a war breaks out. Their love of anonymity, if that's what it is, directs a great many of their decisions.”
The young Woodswane scratched his head. “I don't understand.”
“I'm not certain anyone does,” Alynd replied.
“Where is this village located?” Jeaf quizzed.
“Soon, the Roam River will flow into the Eyrie River, as it heads southward, Mythoria is located close to where the waterways meet.”
****
The music that had been accompanying them as they floated down the Roam River, ceased when they entered the Eyrie River's strong current. Not long after this, a cloud passed over the full moon, dimming the night's silvery light, leaving them in greater darkness, a darkness that bled into the river's water, increasing its blackness. And then, as if alive, the river heaped up and began to pour over the lip of the boat, filling the bottom of the craft. Startled, Jeaf watched the black water reshape itself, taking on human form.
“To arms!” Alynd shouted.
In an instant, the young Woodswane was on his feet, his sword's naked blade reflecting the moon's returning light. With the cloud now gone, he could plainly see he was facing dark human-like creatures. Mouths as round as saucers slurped in air. Water cascaded over their glistening faces.
Looking upon the trespassers, the young Woodswane recalled Vav's tale of how he and a mighty griffin had stood shoulder-to-shoulder fighting monsters just like these. But before he had time to recall all of the stories details, the closest creature made the mistake of lunging forward. A short powerful thrust of Jeaf's sword tore through its abdomen. Pushing the skewered creature overboard, another that had slipped in behind him grabbed a hold of the young Woodswane. With his arms pinned to his side, a third river-child pounced on Jeaf, biting into the flesh covering his heart. Moving its jaws from side-to-side, the assailant's needle-like teeth dug deeper, its throat eagerly swallowing the blood flowing into its mouth. Thllrrrppp! Thllrrrppp! The thing continued its feverish sucking.
The young Woodswane's cries of pain had no sooner begun, then the assailant's own shout of anguish was heard, a shout preceded by its bristle-like teeth abruptly losing their grip on Jeaf's wounded chest. Then it just slumped into the bottom of the boat.
After bracing his foot on the thing's carcass to gain the leverage he needed to pull his long-knife from its black back, Alynd lept up on the lip of the boat and stepped around the young Woodswane. A moment later, the creature who had been holding him from behind, released its grasp. Hearing a lifeless body flop into the river, Jeaf kicked at the one laying before him, pushing it overboard with his foot.
“Schmar's children!” Alynd snarled in disgust. “Jeaf, there are more things foul in Nyeg Warl than what comes out of the Mountains of Sorrow.” Alynd's piercing gaze probed the water's depths to make sure the river-children had fled before he added. “Beware of Schmar!”
Bending over the young Woodswane, the minstrel began cleaning the puncture wounds left by the black creature's teeth. Pulling out one of the golden spheres, Alynd breathed on it, sending an amber vapor into the wound, a vapor that was instantly absorbed by Jeaf's body. Then the minstrel picked up the flask, now laying in the bottom of the boat, and returned it to the stunned Woodswane.
Going aft, Alynd began steering the leaf-boat towards the riverbank. Here the gentle fores- laden hills had grown in height. Layer-upon-layer of undulating greenwood lay both east and west of the river. Occasionally, one of the ever-steepening hills ended in a rocky cliff. After passing one that dropped off into the river, the boat skirted a stand of bulrushes growing in a part of the river that widened beyond the main current. All the time, Alynd used his paddle to keep the boat moving along.
As they slipped along, floating beside the expanse of bulrushes, Jeaf turned to the bard and asked. “Do you know anything about Schmar?”
“People say he is a myth, a legend, a story children tell one another to scare themselves.”
“I've heard a few of these stories myself, when I was a child. But if he's a myth, what was the thing that bit me?” Jeaf grimaced as he made his inquiry.
“I didn't say, I believed he was a myth,” Alynd explained. “He's real all right, living in a filthy pit called the Cave of Forgetfulness. Never leaving his hole, no one who has not been in his cave has ever seen him, and no one who has been in that hole comes out unscathed. Some of those who have seen him say he is no more than a fat little man. Many others believe he is much more, or should I say, less than he appears.”
“He shares his dark domain with his wife, Arachnamor, who is said to be both very beautiful and very dangerous. Though they seem to be an unlikely couple, their union is one of the most enduring things in Nyeg Warl.
“Schmar's lair is protected by an evil magic making its location impossible to find, and those who stumble upon it- once escaping its power- can never find it again. Sitting in his hideout to protect his own skin, he sends his children into the warl to do his dirty work.”
Alynd made a quick examination Jeaf's wound, before adding, “You met some of these ton
ight.
“Yet, there is another evil that lives in the Cave of Forgetfulness, an evil as great as Schmar, one that has never been seen. The only evidence of its existence is the odd cracking noise it makes as it moves through a night-shrouded warl and the havoc it leaves behind.”
“What kind of havoc?”
“Mostly, missing people. Occasionally, a murder.”
Once they passed the stand of bulrushes, Alynd steered his craft onto a rocky shoreline before proclaiming, “We're here!”
Chapter 9: Mythoria
A great stone wall rose up beyond the riverbank, on the far side of a stretch of fern-covered ground. A lively lattice work of streams danced through the lushness. Horseshoe-shaped, the cliff had the appearance of a natural amphitheater with scores of lovely waterfalls cascading down its variegated sides. Differing in size, the waterfalls fell out of the heights splashing into glistening pools scattered about on terraces jutting out of the cliffside. Filled to overflowing, the water blithely slipped over the pools' edges to, once again, fall until they splashed into other pools. Unlike the seats of an amphitheater, the terraces were not evenly spaced. Instead, they were scattered about like the pedals on a rose, and like a rose, the sight was beautiful to behold.
Reaching into his leather pouch, Alynd pulled out another golden sphere and blew its light into the young Woodswane's eyes. As the amber mist drifted closer, shimmering as it came, Jeaf found it had become a window he could use to see the Mythorian village.
To his surprise, it wasn't a village at all, not in the traditional sense. There weren't any inns or blacksmith shops, no livery stables or hardware stores. In fact, there weren't any buildings, or, for that matter, roads. What Jeaf did see were mists, almost human-like in form, swirling above pools of water that sat on the cliffside terraces. But, not every pool was topped with swirling vapor. Some were capped with motionless cloud. Later, Jeaf learned, this is what the Mythorians looked like as they slept.
