Battle of Nyeg Warl

by Rex Hazelton

  Looking through the window, she couldn't find one person who had even noticed her inquiry. So, she went back to the door and repeated her previous actions. She did this over-and-over again, but to no avail. With exhaustion setting in and her hands and feet numb with the cold, Muriel began crying until, to her utter horror, a bugle's blast was heard not far beyond the outskirts of the village.

  Rejuvenated by a fear, calling forth the last of her physical reserves, Muriel knocked furiously on the pub's door. Still no one came!

  Her sense of abandonment only incited the panic she felt when, once again, she heard the bugle's call. It came like a shock wave, speeding down the street she was standing on. Letting go of the metal ring, she began pounding with her fists, screaming at the top of her lungs, while the sound of hoof beats bore down upon her.

  “Please let me,” she shrieked out!

  Then jerking around, expecting to see one of Schmar's evil children, Muriel found she was blinded by light filtering through any army of branches swaying above her. Shaking her head in an effort to make sense of what she was looking at, a sound of knocking continued to fill the cool morning air.

  Looking up into the pine trees, she finally located the noise's author. Perched directly above her head, a strikingly beautiful woodpecker was busily extracting its breakfast from a tree's bark. Its little redhead, sitting atop its black body and white underbelly, struck the tree blow-after-blow as it hungrily gorged itself.

  “I was only dreaming,” she gasped in relief. “Thank the Singer… I was only dreaming.”

  “And by the commotion you were making, I'd say you were having a nightmare,” Groar Blood added before stretching out his body to a length Muriel thought it was incapable of reaching as he roused himself to wakefulness.

  “Yes! I was having a most dreadful dream I hope doesn't portend what lies ahead of me.” Muriel yawned as she completed her journey out of the world of slumber. “I dreamt I was facing danger in the village, and no one would acknowledge my existence let alone give me help.”

  “Well, Little Sister, there are dreams… then there are dreams, if you know what I mean?” Grour Blood said this more as a lesson to be taught than as a question asked. “Though I believe you will become a prophetess of great renown, you must learn few dreams really contain significance beyond revealing the state your own emotions are in. The dream you had last night is simply one that gave vent to the anxiety you are now feeling.”

  “Muriel Blood, in the future you find those who will teach you how to properly use your gifting. If it were not for your desire to find your kin, I would have already taken you to just such a place. Most certainly, I will suggest this destination once your search is completed, and you've had time to be properly reunited with your family.”

  As Grour Blood stood upon his hind legs and sharpened his claws high up on a nearby tree trunk, he continued. “Look into your pouch, Little Sister, and take out the purse I placed there while you and the cubs were saying good-bye in the Cave of Meeting.”

  Muriel brought out the purse and loosened its draw string. As she opened its mouth, sunlight, diving past the draw string, reflected off the gold and silver coins held inside.

  “What's this for?” Muriel quizzed her winged-guardian.

  “This will enable you to feed and shelter yourself while you get reestablished in Nyeg Warl and will protect you from those who would take advantage of your poverty.”

  After Muriel Blood and Grour Blood finished a breakfast of tropical fruit and dried fish, the great winged-lion sent her off to the village, reassuring her that he could be found either in or near the copse of trees they now stood in.

  Chapter 16: The Village of Barm

  The towering pines, Muriel had been walking through, were interrupted by poplar and other leafy trees growing more numerous the nearer she came to the sound of rushing water. In time, she stepped out of the sylvan woods and into the bottom lands bordering the Fyne River.

  Small parcels of land, separated by low stone walls, covered the river valley's floor. Potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, legumes and squash grew in an agricultural patchwork. Soon, Muriel was walking down a road the farmers used to get to their fields. Many of the workers were already laboring on their own parcels of land. Others, she passed, were on their way to join them.

  Strangely enough, the farmworkers she met went by without lifting their heads to greet her. Those who talked among themselves, as they walked by, ignored her as well. Except for the wonderful spring weather, Muriel felt as if she were reliving her disheartening dream of the night before. Then a tall, comely lad smiled and tipped his hat to her. Relieved by this act of recognition, Muriel relaxed and continued on towards the village.

  Before long, she was crossing a stone bridge arching over the Fyne River's dancing waters. An old man and his grandson, who were fishing off the bridge, greeted her. “It isn't every day a fella gets to see a woman dressed like a man.”

  Startled by this comment, Muriel looked down at the forest green clothes the griffin had given her. She had worn them for so long, she had forgotten they belonged to Mystlnor the Elf-Man. Making a mental note to purchase a dress as soon as she could, Muriel stepped off the bridge and passed between a row of fields lining the Fyne River's eastern banks, those butting up against the Village of Barm.

  A hamlet of more than five-hundred souls, nestled safely on the banks of the Fyne River, greeted her. About half of its buildings had walls made of stone, the rest were made of cut timber. The roofs, covering the buildings, were constructed of either thatch or turf. Moss and lichen grew on most of the walls, while flowers dotted the roofs made of turf with yellow and white buttons of color. The doors, as well as the gables, painted in a mixture of pastel and vivid hues of blues, yellows, greens, lavenders, and purples, were decorated with ornate designs. Overall, the village had a congenial atmosphere. The homey warmth these lovely structures projected buoyed Muriel's spirit.

  Wispy smoke, wafting out of scores of chimneys, greeted Muriel as she set foot on the cobblestones lining the main road running through the village. Passing doors that were open, she caught sight of a number of pretty women whose plump faces, showing beneath their broad-brimmed bonnets, returned her smile with puzzled ones of their own. Realizing her clothes were the source of their consternation, Muriel again reminded herself to buy a dress as quickly as possible.

  In time, Muriel spotted a pub whose stone exterior embraced a cheery sign reading Welcome. The name, Ivy's Inn, sat above this. Passing over the burgandy-colored threshold, Muriel was greeted by a fat blond-headed man who introduced himself as Ivy.

  “Welcome to Ivy's Inn,” the congenial man blurted out. “I'm the Ivy in the Inn,” he added with a chuckle. “What might your name be, and how may I serve you?”

  “My name's Muriel, and I'd like to rent a room from you, if one's available.”

  “Well Muriel, if you have the money, we have the room.”

  When Muriel opened her purse and Ivy caught sight of the coins she was carrying, he took her by the hand and led her to a table where several others sat and added, “I see you got the money, so come on over and my Myra will fetch you some victuals.”

  Once she was seated, Ivy added, “Is there anything else I could do for you?”

  “Oh, yes!” Muriel's face brightened as she replied. “Could you tell me where I could buy a dress?”

  “I'd say that's a right proper request,” Ivy responded as he joined the others laughing good-naturedly over the outfit Muriel wore. “A pretty girl like you shouldn't be dressed like a boy now. I got a daughter of me own who looks to be about your age. I'll see if she'll be willing to go shopping with you, sometime today.”

  Wiping his hands on an apron covering his portly belly, Ivy dismissed himself to go find his daughter, who was in the kitchen helping her mother cook the morning meal. Not long afterwards, Ivy reappeared, leading two women in tow. The eldest, whose auburn hair perfectly framed her face's handsome features, sat
a bowl of steaming oatmeal before Muriel as she introduced herself. “I'm Myra.”

  Sitting a pitcher of cold milk and a tray of rich butter down on the table, Ivy proudly introduced the lovely young woman he was escorting. “This is my Anna. She's agreed to help you find your dress.”

  Anna smiled and nodded her head. With some coaxing from her father, she sat down and ate breakfast with their guest.

  Muriel found she immediately liked Anna, who was just as warm and amiable as her father. Though Muriel didn't eat all her cereal, the young woman's company was food enough for her. Never in her recollection, other than her parents, had she had a human treat her so kindly. Those who had lived with her in Schmar's cave were too busy trying to survive to learn any manners.

  Noticing Muriel hadn't eaten much, Myra came over and asked if the oatmeal wasn't to her liking. Muriel was careful to compliment the woman's cooking while explaining she had eaten some fruit and nuts earlier that morning. On Grour Blood's advice, she neglected to mention who she had breakfasted with.

  “So, you say, you already ate breakfast in the woods? What's a girl like you doing traipsing about in the forest, all alone?” Myra, incredulous at what she heard, inquired, “Child, where do you come from anyway. What are your people thinking, letting you wander about like you're doing?”

  Blushing under the barrage of questions the auburn-headed spitfire threw her way, Muriel warily explained, “I'll give you the answers you seek in due time, for now I'll just say, my people haven't neglected their duty in keeping me from undertaking such an adventure, as you're suggesting. Rather, it's quite the opposite. You see, the reason why you find me here today is because I am, in fact, trying to locate my parents who misfortune had taken from me, many long summers ago.”

  Muriel's explanation was spiced with the eloquence she had picked up from Tor Blood, her teacher for the past twelve months.

  “Poor girl!” Myra responded with sincere concern. “How did that ever happen?”

  “I'd rather not talk about that right now, if you please.”

  “Well then… will you tell me your parents' names?”

  “Yes, My Lady. Their names are Laz and Mara”

  Myra's eyes grew larger than saucers when she heard this. After taking a moment to gather her composure, the befuddled woman spoke in measured tones. “Did you say Mara and Laz?”

  “Yes, I did. Do you know them?”

  “Yes! Mara's my sister.” Myra, reaching down and grasping Muriel by her delicately shaped chin, lifted her face up so she could get a better look at her. “By all that lives and breathes, you do look like Laz. Could it be you're my sister's little girl? I thought it strange that you had the same name as my niece.”

  Muriel's head swam in disbelief she was looking at mother's sister. With her father's ring gently vibrating on her finger, her eyes filled with tears.

  Could greater miracles be in store for me this day, she wondered before excitedly asking, “Do you know where my mother and father are?”

  Myra let Muriel's chin go before taking her by the hand and lifting her to her feet. Then she hugged Muriel, tightly. “Darling, your mother and father died in a fire that burned their home to the ground. Why… we thought the fire got you too.”

  “No! They didn't die in the fire.” Muriel quickly dispelled her aunt's assumption.

  “Well then, what happened?”

  Muriel was on the verge of telling Myra what had really happened when she felt tendrils of cold air creeping over her back. Intuitively, she wheeled about and came face-to-face with a man sitting at the far end of the table. His furrowed brow and leering gaze sent shivers up Muriel's spine. Becoming noticeably flummoxed when Muriel took as much interest in him as he had taken in her, he stood to his feet and fumbled through his bluish-gray cloak for a coin he nervously tossed on the table before he excused himself. This odd experience cautioned Muriel to not divulge anymore of her story in the presence of strangers.

  “Honey, how did you escape the fire? Where have you been living? And why haven't you looked for your parents before now?” Myra energetically inquired while the man in the bluish-gray cloak's departure went unnoticed by her.

  Turning back to her aunt, Muriel responded by saying, “I'll tell you as much as I can… once were alone.”

  Anna following Muriel's gaze, turned to look back at the door where the man in the bluish-gray cloak stood. Together the two young women watched him wheel about, as if he were a soldier who had just received marching orders, and stomp down the cobblestone road.

  “Well, I do have some good news for you,” Myra added. “Laz's brother, Vav, also lives in Barm, with his wife Hylde. After you girls buy a dress, Anna will take you over to meet your aunt. Vav will be working in his field until later today. So, he won't be there.”

  After Myra hugged Muriel, once again, she said, “My, my, I can't believe my eyes. I'm actually looking at Mara's little girl. I wouldn't have believed it was true, if you weren't the spitting image of your father; as alike as two peas in a pod, I'd say. Well off with you two. I'll take care of cleaning up.”

  After picking up the used dishes, Myra and Ivy walked into the kitchen, talking like two school children, thoroughly discussing the morning's surprise.

  Glad she had been given leave from her chores, Anna hooked her arm in Muriel's. Hurrying out into the sunshine, falling upon the cobblestones like warm golden rain, the girls headed off to the tailor shop.

  By late morning, Muriel, who was now wearing a long light blue dress made of cotton fabric, sat with her cousin Anna on the edge of the lovely fountain that provided the villagers with easy access to drinking water and was a favorite meeting place for those who lived in Barm. Since they were now alone, Muriel ventured a question about the man in the bluish-gray cloak.

  “Oh him,” Anna exclaimed. “He's one of the Soldiers of Truth.”

  “What's a Soldier of Truth?” Muriel quizzed.

  “They're members of something called the Society of Truth.” Sensing her answer was inadequate, Anna tried to explain in greater detail. “It's kinda like a religious order, though I don't believe they think of themselves as such. They're always warning about things they think will destroy our way of life.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, they put up a fuss about any slander spoken against Koyer. They believe this type of talk will make people want to fight him, and if enough people want to fight him, a war will break out and destroy our way of life.”

  Muriel remembered Tor Blood speaking of a man named Koyer in the same breath he spoke of Schmar and someone named Ab'Don. Recalling the winged-lion had compared these three to those who had annihilated the griffin's ancestors, so long ago, Muriel thought she'd better question her cousin on her own view of Koyer.

  “What do I think of Koyer?” Anna repeated Muriel's question as she searched her mind for an appropriate answer. “I don't really know for certain. I still remember the horrible stories I heard people tell when I was a child, stories that said he was Ab'Don's servant, and Ab'Don's our worst enemy.” Chuckling as other recollections came to mind, the young woman added, “When I was a kid, my friends and I would scare each other with stories about Koyer kidnapping children. Boy did we let our imaginations run on. But when the Society of Truth came to Barm, such tales are rarely heard anymore. Now only zealots, who believe Ab'Don is using Koyer to get his hands on Nyeg Warl, dare confront the Soldier's of Truth.” Scratching her head, Anna went on. “It's hard to know who to believe. Later, many of those who criticize Koyer are found to be criminals and thieves themselves.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, let's see.” Anna brushed her hair off her forehead as she gathered her thoughts. “The Society is convinced, anyone who slanders Koyer publicly has impure motives. That's why they check out the person's past to see what they're hiding. And, more often than not, they find their suspicions are right. Then they make certain the troublemaker is brought to justice for their own wrongdoing.�
� Anna frowned as she went on to explain. “My father says we shouldn't get mixed up in these arguments.” Looking down at her feet, she added. “My boy friend, Clouse, has taken an interest in the Society's doctrine... but I still hear a lot of negative things whispered about Koyer.”

  Muriel instinctively knew it was important for her to digest all her cousin was saying before she revealed too much of herself. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder about the frightening stories Anna and her friends told one another when they were children, stories about Koyer. So, she asked her cousin to explain these.

  Squinting, as she tried to recall one of the tales, Anna began. “Ever since I was young, kids would just disappear. Some folks said they ran away from home. Others said darkness took them captive because they had been bad.”

  Every now and then, we'd hear that a runaway had come back home, usually in a village far from Barm. Most of them refused to say where they'd been. But some told stories about how they had been kidnapped and taken to live in the Mountains of Sorrow where horrible things were done to them.

  Since the stories were so much alike, a lot of folks thought the young people were just using a well-known tale to excuse their galavanting ways.”

  Hearing all of this, we'd play a game where we made up stories about little girls who disobeyed their parents and were carried off by Koyer once they were alone. We'd say things like, 'You better stay close to home or the black boogie men will get you.'”

  Seeing that mentioning the black boogie men had visibly shaken Muriel, Anna asked, “What's the matter? Your face is as white as a ghost's. Did I say something wrong?”

  Regaining her composurel, Muriel responded with another question. “Why did you call them black boogie men?”

  “I don't know... I guess because rumors about strangers who were black as tar were going around at the time.”