by Rex Hazelton
While she was making her observation, the tiny firefly suddenly rose high above the pond, growing brighter-and-brighter until it exploded in a blinding flash. Covering her eyes, trying to hide them from the brilliant burst of light, Muriel heard a small splash in the water near her feet. Removing her hands from her face, she noticed tiny ringlet-shaped ripples moving out from a center where she guessed the object must have fallen.
Looking about herself, she realized the firefly was gone, leaving her all alone. Frightened by the prospect of having been abandoned, Muriel called out to her little companion, over-and-over again. But it did not reappear. Driven by the deep displeasure of her situation, the memory of an ancient song came to mind- one she was surprised she knew. Then feeling it was the right thing to do, she began singing its compelling melody.
Alone, alone stands the suitor of love.
Alone, alone weeps the father of time.
Alone, alone on the wings of a dove.
Alone, alone like windblown chimes.
Run away, run away to the fires of home.
Run away, run away to the shelter of friends.
Run away, run away no more to roam.
Run away, run away until the darkness ends.
Unbeknownst to Muriel, her song began stirring up the magic that slept in the warl, but it was more the singer than the song that was responsible for doing this. At last, moved by the woman's suffering heart, the magic awakened and looked at her. Rising above the pond, like steam does on a cool spring's morning, higher-and-higher it climbed until it filled the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. A golden glow, rising out from the shallows, laying at Muriel's feet, intermingled with the bright array.
Looking down on the brilliant illumination sitting at the epicenter of the fading ringlets of water, she heard a man's voice calling out to her. “Reach down into the water.”
Before she knew what she was doing, Muriel heard herself respond, “Yes, Daddy.”
Kneeling, she reached into the water and dug beneath the soot and rocks laying atop the mysterious golden light. Soon, her hand returned filled with golden pond scum. Carefully washing away the filth, Muriel fell backward to the ground when the tiny shape of a ring appeared in her hands.
Scrambling to the water's edge, she finished cleaning away the mud. When this was done, she stood amazed at what she saw. The ring her father had given her on the day she was born, the one she lost as a child, had returned. It lay in her trembling hand, looking as comfortable as a baby resting against its mother's bosom.
Once in her hand, the golden glow subsided, and as it did, the array of colorful light the Warl's Magic cast into the sky was reflected in the ring's exquisite stone. The radiant spectrum grew brighter-and-brighter until the pond itself was awash in the magic's resplendent hues. Then, for one brief moment, the multicolored kaleidoscope stopped twirling as if it were pausing in thought, taking time to make a decision, one with profound ramifications.
As soon as the decision was made, a rumbling sound was heard, like the noise an approaching storm makes, and when the sound rose to a crescendo, all the beautiful colors filling the sky rushed into the diamond like pipe smoke being inhaled, until it had all disappeared into the gem, absorbed by the ring's compelling power.
Startled by what had happened, Muriel examined her prize to make sure it was safe. Finally satisfied the colors wouldn't explode out of the ring and harm her, she tried it on. Sadly, the ring was too small. But, this wouldn't remain the case.
Pulsating with power, the circlet changed sizes, enlarging until it slipped over her finger, easily. When the magic subsided, leaving the ring vibrating gently on her hand, a subtle golden glow enveloped the treasure. Eventually, even this too dissipated, leaving Muriel standing under the warm Nyeg Warl sun, basking in the magic her father's love had produced.
Looking at the gem, she was not surprised when the firefly didn't return.
****
After eating a lunch consisting of stolen cheese and bread, Muriel strolled along the pond's edge wondering what the future had in store for her. Regaining her father's ring had, like a good rain, watered the seeds of hope that were sown in her heart, and to hope, purpose was now being added.
I must find my parents, Muriel reasoned. I need to let them know I'm still alive.
As she was making plans, nearby bulrushes began rustling. A large submerged object, winding its way through the water the tall blades of grass grew in, moved stealthily towards her. Soon other parts of the long stretch of bulrushes began swaying and jerking as other intruders forced their way out of the river and into the pond.
Awakened from her musing, the curious ruckus caught Muriel's attention. Stepping away from the pond, she drew the stone dagger from her belt, readying herself, much as her father had done so long ago, to meet the approaching danger... She didn't have long to wait!
SCHWAAAP! The pond's water parted as a disgusting river-child forced its way onto the shoreline. Another of Schmar's slimy offspring quickly followed.
No longer afraid of the watery ghouls, Muriel stepped forward and drove her blade deep into the first creature's chest. It was a vengeful thrust, one propelled by red-hot hatred. Removing her knife, the surprised assailant fell backwards into the pond scum, convulsing as its horrible life neared an end. Almost like it was a single continuous motion, Muriel savagely gashed the next one's belly, spilling its guts on the gravel-covered ground. Using her foot, she pushed it on top of the first one.
With one of the river-children dead and the other grievously wounded, Muriel, now covered in the creatures' black blood, stepped back when four more monsters rose out of the water. Approaching her with greater caution, these would not naively attack her as their fallen brothers had; first, they would surround her; then subdue her with the force of numbers.
As her predicament worsened, Muriel decided she would rather die than be taken back to Schmar's lair. “Fire-blasted animals,” she shouted at the four river-children who were taunting her.
The monster standing directly in front of her spoke out with its raspy, watery voice. “Schmar told us to bring you back. He says, he doesn't bear any ill will for the scratch you gave him.”
Another creature added, “If you put your knife down, we'll forget about what you did to our brothers. But if you don't… you just might not make it back home in one piece.”
The four creatures kept rotating positions as they inched their way towards the bedraggled woman. Picking up rocks and sticks to toss against Muriel's legs, wanting to distract her and diminish their odds of being stabbed, the foul monsters began placing wagers on which one would nab her. But before their game was completed, the sound of pounding hoofbeats interrupted their mischief.
Two large horses, as black in color as the riders they were carrying, came charging up. The mounted river-children were dressed in dark green cloaks, fish skin loin clothes, and vests. Judging by the way the others were deferring to them, Muriel guessed the horsemen held the greater rank. Soon, one of these began barking out orders and threatening reprisals on any who dared to hurt her. Reaching into a bundle laying behind his saddle, the creature pulled out a net and four poles. Snarling, he commanded the others to obey his directions.
Following orders, the horseman had brusquely dispensed, the four foot soldiers tossed the net over Muriel. Then prodding her with the cruel poles, they tried to disarm her.
While this was going on, a shadow passed over the group, causing them to look up. Following their eyes, Muriel beheld a great eagle flying between them and the sun. Once the creatures were satisfied this magnificent bird posed no threat, they returned to their fun.
Eventually, one of them struck the knife out of Muriel's hand. The other three pounced on her, wrapping her up. The largest of the creatures poked his head through the net and began licking her face; his grotesque hand searched her body. “Maybe we'll take a piece of the pie before we return it to Schmar. Surely our father won't miss just one piece,” the gruesome beas
t said in low hungry tones.
But before the creature's words could be turned into action, a bullwhip cut into the thing's flesh. The loud cracking of the whip warned that other blows would come if orders weren't followed. The commander was determined to keep his dangerous company under control. “Enough of your fire-blasted folly Korps or I'll soon be using you for my own entertainment!” The horseman spat out his angry words. Dismounting his steed, he pushed his chest into his nearest brother- an act meant to establish dominance. His dark green cloak, spreading out behind him, increased the impact of his malevolent presence. Then striding forward, the rider struck Korps across the face, forcing him to draw back in obeisance. Once Korps was subjugated, the commander turned to look at the other horseman. Pleased by what he had done, he let out a gurgling chuckle.
Pushing Muriel's tormentors aside, the commander pressed close to her face. Then speaking, as gelatinous saliva fell from his horrible circular mouth, he said, “I know you, you wretched wench.” Pulling her to her feet, he lustily examined Muriel and added, “I think Korps had the right idea, but he won't be the one who gets to eat the piece of pie he's been talking about.”
Drawing out a long, curved blade, the commander cut the netting off Muriel. He did this carelessly and ended up cutting off much of her filthy garments as well. Humiliated, Muriel crouched down and wrapped her arms about herself, shielding her exposed olive-colored flesh from the rider's leering gaze.
Satisfied with what he had done, the commander ordered his company to stand down. Reaching for his fish skin belt, he began unbuckling it so he could take off his loin cloth. But before he could finish loosening his garment, the shadow returned once again. Much larger now, it blotted out the sun's light, entirely.
Like before, the creatures turned their gaze skyward. But this time, they could see the shadow was not cast by an ordinary raptor. ROARRRRR! The bone shaking sound, filling the sky, verified their quickly developing suspicions. To their utter horror a great griffin was swooping down on them, one the likes of which had not been seen in Nyeg Warl for more than a hundred summers.
Ever their enemy, the river-children feared the griffin almost as much as they feared Schmar. Though none of these had ever seen a winged-lion, the stories they passed on from brother-to-brother ensured this age-old fear would not be lost. And it was this fear that sent the river-children scrambling about. Undone by the unexpected turn-of-events, each was trying to save their own skin.
“Burn it to ashes, stand and fight you damn cowards!” The commander was trying to muster the troops, to set up a defense. But it was all for naught, the griffin's terrifying presence was seeing to that.
AWWWWWW! the commander screamed when the winged-lion swooped down and snatched him off the ground, as if he was no more than a doll, and soared back up into the sky where it lazily dropped the foul beast to his death, shattering its slimy body on the boulders lining the river's shoreline.
A moment later, carried on pinions as long as swords, the griffin swooped down on another of the river-children. Frozen in fear, Schmar's offspring awaited its fate. With one bite, massive jaws broke the loathsome thing's neck.
After tossing the black corpse aside, the griffin came and stood between Muriel and her would-be captors, spreading out its huge wings to shield her from further harm. Cautiously eyeing the ghastly river-children, a deep rumbling voice rolled out of the griffin's mouth. “My Lady, please climb on my back and grab a handful of my mane.”
Though she couldn't understand why, Muriel felt comfort in the winged-lion's voice. Somehow it felt familiar to her, as familiar as a fond memory. Have I met this beast before... in a dream, perhaps? The magic Muriel felt coming from the griffin told her, she would be safe in his presence. So, without further encouragement, she leapt onto the mighty beast's back and grabbed onto the thick hair covering his neck.
With a final warning roar, the winged-lion leapt into the air and was well beyond bow shot before the surviving horseman could steady its terrified mount and unsheathe his arrows.
Chapter 14: The Cliffs of Stromane
Nestling deeper into the griffin's warm fur, Muriel sped through the sky, riding on the winged-lion's broad back. A fur-covered cloud! This curious notion made the young woman laugh, a thing she was not used to doing. Clinging as tightly as she could, Muriel watched the warl receding beneath her until the river, she had just left, looked like a thin silvery ribbon, winding its way through a velvety green landscape.
Gazing over the griffin's massive tawny shoulders, Muriel watched Nyeg Warl spread out beneath her. Up ahead, south of their present position, the mighty Thangmor Mountains rose up, looking like a massive wall topped with towering pinnacles of stone. Winding his way between the peaks, the powerful griffin continued toward an unknown destination, but this did not trouble Muriel in the least. Soaring high above the warl made her feel less connected to things below. And for that, she was grateful. Anything that put distance between her and Schmar was all right with her.
Sweeping out of the mountains, the griffin continued journeying southward over Nyeg Warl's vast forests, moving at terrific speeds. On-and-on he went, and all the while the sun continued its arching trek overhead until the first taste of evening arrived and land's end could be seen. But even this did not stop the winged-lion. Instead, he picked up greater speed and shot out beyond the coastlands. With each stroke of his powerful wings, the griffin and young woman moved farther southward until they were far out to sea. Even this didn't bother Muriel. The amazing expanse of green water helped convince her, she was truly being carried beyond the Cave of Forgetfulness' reach.
Discovering she didn't need to cling to the giant cat's heavy mane, only added to Muriel's sense of comfort. Its back was so wide, and it flew so expertly, she felt she would have to purposely jump to fall from her perch. Then, once land could no longer be seen, an array of billowing clouds appeared in the sky. After deep rumbling laughter swept over Muriel, the griffin banked its huge wings and flew straight for the mass of pearly white vapor.
The cream puff giants, they were soaring past, made Muriel feel like she was flying through a fantastic floating city. Imagining other griffin lived in the heaping white vaporous towers, she half expected doors to open in the clouds' sides, revealing winged-lions flying back and forth as they carried out their daily routines. Approaching an unusually large cloud, one rising high above the others, Muriel imagined this must be the cloud castle where her tawny deliverer lived. No doubt he was the lord of his realm, and she, as his special guest, was now going to live happily ever after with him, in his majestic white fortress.
Refreshing moisture splashed on Muriel's face, when they entered the cloud castle, and the only thing she could see was white, a color not found in Schmar's lair. So, Muriel began imagining she was passing through a thick curtain, one leading to the griffin king's throne room, a place where she would soon be granted freedom from Schmar's spell and absolution from things troubling her soul.
Recognizing this was her day of liberation, tears began flowing. Along with the moisture-laden air, these began washing away the filth covering her face. Burying herself deep in the great cat's mane, Muriel let her thoughts entertain memories of her parents, memories long forgotten, those hidden beneath the filth and all it represented.
For the rest of the evening, the two flew onward through the clouds, and didn't break out into clear skies until night had fallen. When they did, a full moon floated just above Muriel's head, one she felt she could almost touch, if she dared to stand on the griffin's back and reach as high as she could.
Listening to the great cat's heart beating rhythmically inside its massive chest, Muriel became sleepy. The moon's continual dipping motion, with each flap of the griffin's huge wings, only added to her drowsiness. Having an inexplicable faith that the awesome beast would not let her fall, Muriel slipped off into a welcomed sleep.
****
A million stars, looking like grains of glistening wheat cast upon a t
hreshing floor made of black stone, greeted Muriel when she awakened. A thin line of rose and lavender hues, heralding the approaching day, sat on the eastern horizon. Looking down over the great cat's side, the unbroken darkness let her know they were still traveling over water.
“How much longer?” Muriel asked the griffin. The question popped out before she knew what she had done. The sound of her voice startled her. Though she remembered the great cat telling her to get up on its back, until that moment, she hadn't considered trying to strike up a conversation. She had merely been satisfied to lounge in the feelings of safety this huge winged-lion had brought with it.
“Not much longer now, My Lady,” the deep voice replied.
“Where are we headed?”
“We're going to Stromane, the home of the griffin.”
“What will we do when we get there?”
“Well, My Lady, first thing we'll need to do is sort things out.” The tawny beast banked to the left so Muriel could enjoy the approaching day's burgeoning colors. “Rest now and enjoy the morning.”
Heeding her deliverer's advice, Muriel reached into her pouch. Pulling out the last of the stolen food, she began breakfasting. At times, overwhelmed by beams of radiant light, streaking above a distant horizon, Muriel forgot the cheese and bread in her mouth until an over abundance of saliva reminded her of the need to swallow.
Not long after completing her meal, an island came into view, one with towering white cliffs overlooking a bejeweled sea. A flock of birds circled high above sharp pinnacles of stone. Several of these broke away from the others and flew straight towards her. When they got closer, Muriel realized they weren't birds at all, they were griffin who had come to escort her and her tawny savior back to the island.
