Battle of Nyeg Warl

by Rex Hazelton

  “What does all of this mean?” Muriel Blood, anxiously running her fingers through her long black hair, inquired.

  “Little Sister, it means it's time for you to go home.”

  “But I haven't any home to return to!”

  “Nyeg Warl is your home, and it's time you found your place there.”

  As Muriel wrung her hands together, she complained, “I'm scared! I know that isn't very griffin-like, but I can't help what I feel.”

  Grour Blood went over and rubbed his mane against Muriel's shoulder as if he were a common house cat trying to console her. “It's time you spread your wings, Little Sister. But remember this, you can return whenever you wish and stay for as long as you want.”

  “Though my fear tells me to stay in Stromane, I agree with you… it's time for me to go.” Digging her fingers into Grour Blood's mane, Muriel added, “How will you know if I want to return to the Stromane?”

  “Don't fear. I'll take you back to Nyeg Warl and stay with you there as long as you need me too.” Fierce golden eyes looked into Muriel's own as the winged-lion added, “We griffin will not forsake you. You're now one of us, Muriel Blood!”

  “How soon before we leave?”

  “If you are ready, we'll leave on the next full moon, four days from now.”

  ****

  Mittens and Slim came to see Muriel off on the morning of her departure. The days since she and Grour Blood talked had rushed by like water falling off a cliff. She spent the time saying good-byes to the hundreds of griffin making up her new family. The past evening, the Community of Blood had thrown a huge feast in her honor, under the light of a full moon. The memory of the pride roaring in the eerie lunar glow still caused her spine to tingle as she packed her old leather pouch with the fruit and nuts she, Seym Blood and the cubs had gathered the previous day. As she added strips of dried fish to the pouch, the memory of how she once had stolen bread and cheese slipped back into her mind, a curious memory after her stay in Stromane.

  Slim was feeling all paternal about his departing friend as he talked. “You'll be all right, Muriel Blood. No one messes with us griffin. Once those humans learn that you're Blood, they'll think twice before they try any funny stuff.”

  Slim was growing fast these days. He was now half the size of a full-grown griffin and the first hints of a mane were showing above his broadening shoulders. Aware of the changes that were overtaking him, Slim sided up to Muriel and placed a large paw on her shoulder as he continued. “Little Sister, I know I've chided you about your roar sounding like a bird call, but I want you to know I was only kidding. If you get in a pinch, you just let her rip. Remember, you were taught by the best. I'll bet there's no one in all of Nyeg Warl that understands the art of roaring like a griffin does. Once those humans get a load of your voice, they'll know to steer clear and respect your territory.”

  “Thanks, Slim.” Muriel hugged the young griffin's broadening neck as she gestured for Mittens, who was growing quickly herself, to come over and join them. While the three best friends held each other, Muriel felt the chests of the two young griffin heaving ever so slightly as the emotion of the moment began overtaking them. While this was happening, Grour Blood flew into the cave. Seeing the three together in their parting embrace, he patiently waited until they were through.

  Finally, the mighty griffin intoned, “Little Sister, it's time we were off.”

  Nodding her head, Muriel wiped the tears off her cheeks and, once she had picked up her leather pouch, climbed up on the griffin's huge shoulders. Jogging toward the cave's entrance, Grour Blood leapt into the air and plunged toward the ocean below. After a moment, he spread his magnificent wings and lifted Muriel skyward. Mittens and Slim followed close behind, acting as her entourage, while Grour Blood sailed back and forth upon the winds rising up the white cliff's face. Scattered roars greeted them as they soared on the robust updraft.

  Once the community realized what was happening, they began to chant, “Muriel Blood! Muriel Blood! Muriel Blood!” This was the characteristic salute given to a departing member of the pride.

  Some of the stronger griffin, who had been gliding high above the island in anticipation of her departure, saluted her with a spectacular display of griffin expertise. Plummeting through the sky like a meteor shower, they crashed into the ocean. One after the other, they streaked past Muriel towards the turbulent waters below, only to rise again and repeat their feat. As this was happening, a covey of cubs and younger griffin joined Slim and Mittens as they escorted Grour Blood out to sea. When the island began to set into watery horizon, the cubs were the first to turn back to Stromane. Then the younger griffin followed until only Mittens and Slim remained. Slim, chattering like a bird, kept giving Muriel pep talks until the crystalline cliffs vanished well below the horizon.

  Here Grour Blood came to a fluttering stop. “You two better be getting back now,” the mighty griffin exhorted the two youth. After a tacit moment, Nazar Blood and Shar Blood circled Muriel and, with a loud roar, headed back to Stromane. A moment later, Grour Blood whirled about and continued the flight to Nyeg Warl.

  Away from island of Stromane for the first time in more than twelve moons, the two, each in their own thoughts, flew silently through the warm morning air. The salt-scented wind, created by the terrific speed at which they flew, brought Muriel relief from the day's increasing heat. It was late spring, and the skies looked turquoise-colored under the glowing sun. Casting rays from its great round face upon the ocean below, the Lord of the Sky caused a million sparks to jump up from the water's surface, giving the undulating ocean the appearance of an immense glistening creature. After having lived in the confines of Schmar's foreboding cave for most of her life, Muriel was mesmerized by the unending expanse of resplendent water spreading out beneath her.

  Taking inventory of the things she had learned while in Stromane, Muriel decided the most important lessons were about friendship and family. Though the magnificent griffin prized their personal freedom, nevertheless, they gladly gave themselves to the community. Yet, with all the nobility she had discovered in the griffin's selfless natures, it was the life of the individual families, she saw displayed on Stromane's breathtaking cliffs, that most intrigued her. The atmosphere of safety permeating these was intoxicating. In the handful of summers she was fortunate enough to spend with her parents, Muriel had only vague memories of such feelings, feelings the pervasive evil living in Schmar's cave had almost eradicated. Because of this, she found herself inextricably drawn to the warmth and structure she witnessed in the griffin's family life. Whenever she pondered these thoughts, the ring her father gave her as a child vibrated gently against her finger as if it agreed with her assessment of things.

  Though griffin parents gave strict guidance to their offspring, they, nevertheless, made certain an atmosphere of freedom enveloped their homes. These awesome creatures, motivated by love, encouraged their children to explore their own talents, as well as the world they lived in. Tor Blood had taught Muriel, another one of the precepts of the Law of Sea and Sky stated the Singer had invested in each one of us certain talents and desires that, with their discovery, would reveal the path each must take to reach their own destiny. The griffin adamantly believed it was the individual's obligation to uncover these giftings for themselves. They thought it a travesty whenever one would seek to impose their own destiny on another. This was such a part of their thinking, they didn't assume the young griffin, after completing the Rites of Passage, would automatically join the Community of Blood.

  Quite often, those who had achieved adult status in the pride would go off to explore the warl and would be gone for many summers before returning to start their families. Sometimes they never returned. But even this didn't cause the others to forbid the young adults from going on their journeys. In the final analysis, the pride felt the experiences gained on these travels enhanced the overall life of the community. Tor Blood said it prevented inbreeding of the soul.

  I
n contrast to this, when Muriel tried to take inventory of her life outside of what she had experienced in the Community of Blood, she encountered a fog thick enough to keep all but the briefest glimpses of her past life hidden. It was like her previous life had been lived in a dream that was fading from memory. Though Muriel knew she had spent numerous winters in Schmar's evil cave, she could hardly recall the events that had transpired there.

  On one hand, this was distressing to Muriel. On the other hand, the little she did remember made Muriel grateful she couldn't recall everything that had occurred in the nightmare warl. Tor Blood said her inability to remember may be an outcome of the magic plaguing the dark place, or it could be Muriel's way of dealing with things too horrible for her face.

  ****

  Except for the few casual conversations Grour Blood initiated to stay abreast of how Muriel was faring on the trip, the remainder of the flight passed by quietly. Gazing to her left, Muriel watched the burning sun's orb being extinguished in the ocean's cool green waters, a sight she had grown to love in her stay on Stromane's towering cliffs. She savored the memory of the rose-colored hues washing across the dizzying heights, heralding the arrival of another peaceful night the griffin families would enjoy together.

  Contemplating the special magic evening time brought with it, the revelries of her last night in Stromane replayed in her mind. The feast thrown in Muriel's honor was held in a small valley, nestled in the middle of the island, the very place Tor Blood, during one of her history classes, told her was the griffin's original home.

  To initiate the celebration, Stromane's creatures came to pay homage to the griffin for protecting their homes: a cloud of birds flew over the banquet fires, creating a rainbow of colors; wild pigs grunted about; apes hung like ornaments from the surrounding trees; reptiles stuck their heads out from the tropical undergrowth; tiny deer lept about like children, and leopards snuggled up against their winged-cousins.

  As the highlight of the evening, Seym Blood led Muriel Blood into the center of the gathering and introduced her to all the creatures came to honor the griffin. “Hear, O' hear all things living in Stromane- both large and small, short and tall, weak and strong, fowl of the air and creatures crawling upon the ground- she who once was Muriel the Human…”

  Hearing she was human, the smaller creatures began withdrawing into the shadows, leopards anxiously growled, and the birds began taking flight until Grour Blood let out a roar loud enough to raise the dead. “Stand fast, my friends,” he shouted, “until you've heard all Seym Blood has to say, lest you offend your hosts!” In respect for their griffin benefactors, after hearing Grour Blood's warning, the creatures slowly returned, apprehensive and wondering what was happening. Once things quieted down, Seym Blood cleared his throat and assumed a dignified air as he repeated his words. “Hear, O' hear all you who live in Stromane- both large and small, short and tall, weak and strong, fowl of the air and creatures who crawl upon the ground...”

  As Seym Blood paused for affect, Muriel nervously eyed the gathering audience in anticipation of further backlashes. In the back of her mind, she wondered what other humans must be like for the presence of a single one of her kind to create such a ruckus.

  Now ready, Seym Blood continued, “…she who was once Muriel the human is now become Muriel Blood, griffin-woman, and poacher's bane. Behold the Prophetess who will usher in the age of Parm Warl.” The sounds of approval the creatures made humbled the beautiful, black-haired woman: apes whooped, birds sang, leopards roared, pigs grunted, and tiny deer took turns leaping over one another's backs. “Look.” Grour Blood's words had the affect of shaking Muriel from her reverie. In the distance, Nyeg Warl's dark silhouette could be seen rising out of the waters spreading out beneath her as the moon, one day past full, climbed above the eastern horizon and casts its silvery light into the sky. To Muriel's great surprise, her recollections of this place, previously consisting of darkness and evil, now mystifyingly gave way to hope. Somewhere out there, the life I've lost is waiting for me!

  “Muriel Blood, behold Nyeg Warl,” her friend exclaimed. “Shall we continue on or turn back? The choice is yours to make.”

  “We've come too far to turn back now,” Muriel replied as she felt hope's warm embrace. “I'm not afraid, for I am not alone anymore. I feel Stromane's magic stirring in my soul. It's time this blood finds out who she is meant to be, and where she is meant to go. Now that I've gone through the Rites of Passage, it's time for my journey to begin.”

  Pleased with her words, Grour Blood replied, “Spoken like a true griffin.”

  Later that night, the mighty griffin flew over Nyeg Warl's coast and landed near a dark stream of water. Here they took time to eat and refresh themselves. “Little Sister, can you travel further tonight?”

  After swallowing a bite of fruit, Muriel brought out more dried fish for Grour Blood to eat before she gave her answer. “If there is need, then I am able.”

  Pausing to take another bite of fruit, Muriel asked, “What are our plans?”

  “I intend to take you back to the place where we first met. There you will have the best chance of finding your parents and their families. You'll be going to a village I saw when last I was in Nyeg Warl. It lies about a day's journey from the place where I found you.”

  “Will you come with me to the village?”

  “No, I'll wait for you in the nearby woods until I know you're safe.”

  Muriel hugged her huge friend's neck in gratitude.

  Before long, they were on their way again. Because of the moon's brightness, Grour Blood chose to fly high above the land, as a precaution. Though Grour Blood had counseled Muriel Blood to sleep during this last portion of the trip, she was kept awake by the mixture of anxiety and hope that caused her thoughts to fly faster than the awesome griffin ever could.

  Seeing intermittent lights glowing in the darkness below, Muriel assumed they came from homes scattered throughout Nyeg Warl's forests. She also assumed the occasional cluster of lights, they flew over, marked the locations of various towns and villages. Taking note of a mountain range, following them on their left, she asked Grour Blood if he knew its name. Responding to her inquiry, he told her these were the Alabaster Mountains that lay in western Nyeg Warl. The sheer height of the mountains, whose tallest peaks rose high above the flight path the great griffin was now taking, enthralled Muriel. They looked like the buttress and walls of a gigantic fortress protecting all that lay beyond.

  In time, other mountains loomed up ahead and to their right. This was the Thangmor range that bisected the Warl, its eastern reaches ending where the Cragmar range began, its western reaches falling short of the Alabaster Mountains. There, a wide valley, spreading out between the two geological behemoths, lay... in same the direction they now flew. Before long, the great griffin was carrying them over this valley. Once he negotiated its length, he banked his huge wings and headed eastward along Thangmor's northern slopes.

  Not long after they had turned eastward, Muriel shuddered as they flew over a glistening ribbon of water running out of the steep mountain range. Recollections of the subterranean river, paralleling her flight from darkness in Schmar's cave, flooded her mind. The cool spring air turned frigid as they crossed the serpentine waterway. Muriel's scalp began tingling. Her breathing became labored. When the sound of a lone bugle was heard far below, she felt like she might faint. But before she did, they reentered cleaner air and her clarity of mind returned, and more so with each breath she took.

  As the last remnants of evil rising from the river, now far behind them, faded, the illumination of another cluster of lights appeared up ahead. Instead of passing by, Grour Blood circled the village, indicating this was the place he had told her about. Soon, the powerful griffin began his descent into a heavily wooded area laying close by the village. Once on the ground, Grour Blood folded his magnificent wings against his body and led Muriel into a particularly thick copse of trees. Here, they laid down for a short sleep.
>
  Nestling up against the griffin's tawny fur, Muriel tried to rest though convinced the tumult raging inside of her would prevent her from doing so. But to her relief, the big cat's rhythmic purring hypnotically drew her into the same sleep he had entered.

  The fluttering of owl wings was heard in the branches above the slumbering pair. Landing on a nearby perch, the nocturnal predator puzzled over the low rumbling sounds it heard in the undergrowth below. Looking all about, the owl's huge saucer-shaped eyes soon spied Muriel and Grour Blood. Sporadically blinking its large eyelids, the raptor watched over them as they slept, not realizing they were gathering strength needed to face the uncertain day rushing towards them.

  During their short respite, Muriel dreamt that Grour Blood had already escorted her to the fog-shrouded village, and then took off to who knows where. Looking like a disembodied spirit, she moved furtively through the empty streets, seeking shelter from the cold wind cutting at her flesh. Threatening shadows, slipping through the fog on either side of her, moved like ship's oars passing through a sea of fathomless dark water. In time, she came upon several people who emerged out from the vaporous soup, only to hurry along through the bitter weather without making eye contact or acknowledging her presence.

  Not knowing what to do, Muriel approached one young woman, who was carrying two large bundles between her blue-tinged fingers and volunteered to help carry the packages, but the woman just rushed by, knocking her to the ground. Picking herself up, Muriel noticed blood oozing out of cuts she had sustained on her hands. Brushing herself off, she began knocking on one door after another, seeking help. But no one answered, though she could hear people moving about inside the homes whose doors she stood before.

  Eventually, she came to a pub filled with patrons who were cheerily drinking, eating and laughing- the warm glow of a fireplace shining on their faces. The smell of pastries and tobacco, wafting out of cracks in the doorway, froze in the cold air and fell to the ground in an icy heap beside her. Muriel swung the large metal ring, affixed to the heavy wooden door, sending out a loud rapping noise that was immediately devoured in the frigid fog.