by Rex Hazelton
“Anna.” Muriel warily approached the subject. “You know I'm a missing child who has come wandering into your village. What would you do if I told you I've seen the very boogie men your talking about?”
“Are you telling me, you were kidnapped like the girls in our stories?”
“No, I'm not saying that,” Muriel quickly replied. “But what if I did?”
Anna gave the young woman who claimed to be her cousin a long, concerned look. Then, straightening her dress out, she replied, “I don't know what I'd do.”
“Would you believe me?” Muriel's voice rose in pitch as she probed further.
“I don't know!” Muriel's line of questioning was starting to frighten Anna. “I really don't know. I guess I wouldn't want to believe you. I'd hate to find out Nyeg Warl isn't as safe as I think it is.”
Anna wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead before she changed the subject. “The sun's really hot today... Muriel, let's get out of the heat.”
Noticing how uncomfortable Anna appeared as they walked toward a bench sitting in the shade of a large walnut tree, Muriel tried to defuse the situation. “Anna I'm not saying, I was kidnapped. It's just that I heard the same stories you did when you were a child, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.”
Noticing how stiff her cousin was, Muriel doubted Anna believed what she had just said. In the back of her mind, Muriel began to wonder if she had opened a door she shouldn't have.
The two young women spent the rest of the morning talking about dresses, food, and Clouse. In time, they were laughing and holding hands as Anna told Muriel how wonderful her boy friend was. When they finally left the shade-covered bench to return to Ivy's Inn for lunch, Muriel hoped their earlier conversation had been forgotten.
Muriel was relieved when Myra used up lunchtime reminiscing about her childhood with Mara. Each story she told was like a delicacy the young woman ravenously devoured. Muriel had to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming as she listened to one vivid account of her mother's childhood after another.
Myra's recollections stirred up Muriel's own, bringing back memories of her mother in graphic detail. She remembered the swing her father hung from an oak tree growing near their front door. The memories of her own childish laughter leapt out of the forgotten corners of her mind and came skipping forth to mingle with colors and sounds that had long lain dormant. Muriel felt her parents touch as each held one of her tiny hands, lifting her off the ground, gently swinging her in the air before they lowered her back to the ground. The smell of her mother's freshly baked bread filled her nostrils while her father's voice, calling her to dinner, filled her ears.
With the momentum of her returning memories carrying her along, Muriel interrupted her aunt and began to recount her own childhood, a childhood she spent living with her parents in a beautiful cottage nestled in the wildwood. When the memory of the terrible fire that consumed her home surfaced, she stopped, abruptly.
With tears running down her cheeks, Myra exclaimed, “My, my, if it isn't Mara's daughter!” Wiping Muriel's tears away, those the memory of the fire had caused, she added, “No need for crying, Darling. You're back home with your family.”
Chapter 17: Vav
That evening, Muriel stood knocking on the lime green door leading into uncle Vav and aunt Hylde's home. Earlier, she and Anna had spent a good portion of the afternoon with her delightful aunt. Having returned alone, as Hylde had requested, she came to meet her uncle Vav and to eat supper with them. Gazing at the little village resting in the Fyne River Valley, Muriel savored the beautiful lavender sunset washing across the sky west of where the fields, full of crops that were barely greening the broken ground, stood, a sunset accentuating the mixture of pastel and vivid colors used to paint the array of homes and shops spreading out before her. The brilliant illumination bursting forth from a panoply of windows and open doors, only added to the enchanting ambiance. The sight was so remarkable that Muriel found herself wishing she were an artist who could capture it all on canvas.
The sound of the door opening behind her made Muriel turn around to face a man who looked remarkably like the memories she had of her father, only he was little taller and much older. The gray salting his hair and the smattering of wrinkles etching their way across his face, were not able to hide his good looks. Seeing him, Muriel was sure that she could have picked him out of a crowd. There was no doubt about it, this was Vav, her father's older brother. A moment later, redheaded Hylde was standing beside her husband whose mouth was open wide with disbelief.
“Muriel, this is your uncle Vav.” Aunt Hylde seemed pleased at her husband's reaction. “Here she is, just like I told you, you old cynic.” She playfully grabbed at her husband's ear, chastising him for not believing her.
“By all that lives and breathes,” Vav exclaimed in a breathy voice. “This certainly is Laz's daughter! There's no mistaking that.”
Reaching out for his niece, Vav gave Muriel a hug that rivaled those she had received in the paws of a griffin. “Come in child. There's much we need to talk about.” And with that said, Vav whisked his niece inside and shut the door against the darkness spreading over the warl.
The home Muriel entered was well kept. Several wooden sculptures adorned its interior, displaying a refined taste. A young redheaded woman, who was undoubtedly Hylde's daughter, stood by the fireplace.
“Muriel, this is our daughter Truamor,” Vav proudly proclaimed. “My wife tells me she wasn't here this afternoon when you came to visit.”
“So, I have another cousin,” Muriel exclaimed as she went over and gave Truamor a warm hug. “And I see that she's just as beautiful as her mother.” Everyone laughed good-naturedly over Muriel's kind remark, a remark that was quite accurate.
In due course, they were sitting down for a dinner of steaming vegetables, hot bread rolls, salad, and venison. Eager to dig into the evening's fare, Muriel had to restrain herself when her newly found family bowed their heads in thanks for all that nature had provided. She was pleasantly surprised to hear her uncle give special thanks for her presence.
Vav concluded by repeating his earlier exclamation. “By all that lives and breathes,” he said as he stared for the longest time at the woman who looked so much like his younger brother, so long he made her blush. Seeing the deepening redness spreading across her face, he finally shook himself and repeated, “By all that lives and breathes!” Then smiling he added, “Let's eat!”
Once given permission, the four dove into the delicious meal Hylde had prepared.
Vav ate his portion of food much more quickly than the three women did, so he broke out a long stem pipe. Enjoying the pleasure his evening ritual brought him, he started entertaining his family with stories of when Laz and he were boys. Unexpectedly, especially in the light of how hungry she had been, Muriel's food grew cold on her plate as she sat wide-eyed, listening to the stories her uncle told about the man who was now only a distant memory in her mind.
The house erupted with laughter when Vav told about the time when he and Laz went around Barm greasing all the door handles with chicken fat. That evening, old man Kratchen chased them all the way home. He finally caught them while they futilely tried to open their own door. It seems the boys, in their haste to escape the old man, had forgotten they had greased the handle to play a prank on their own folks.
After apprehending them, old man Kratchen, who had been a burly blacksmith in his prime, took the two boys by their ears and dragged them all the way to his home. Once there, he made Vav and Laz clean off his door handle, and then all the door handles in the village. Vav swore that he and his brother spent half the night undoing their mischief. The whole time, the old man stood by looking like an executioner. Amazingly enough, as sometimes happens when people endure conflict with each other, old man Kratchen and the boys became fast friends. That's how Vav gained his blacksmithing skills.
This story prompted Muriel to recall the beautiful metalwork adornin
g the door to her childhood home. She chuckled as she thought what a little chicken fat could lead to.
Gazing at Vav's comely features, Muriel thought he must be the most wonderful man in all the warl. Looking around at the two redheaded women, Muriel just knew Parm Warl could not make her feel any better than she did at that moment. Only her mother and father walking through the door would have been a greater experience.
After the meal was over, and everything had been put away, Vav carefully cleaned out his pipe and then refilled it with sweet tobacco. Puffing anxiously on his elegantly long-stemmed pipe, he asked for everyone to take a seat. The flickering light leaping from candles strategically placed about the room, to provide the greatest illumination possible, looked like bright fingers busily molding Muriel's uncle's face into a pained expression. “Muriel, I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone outside my immediate family. But before I do, I'd like to ask you a question.” Vav rapidly puffed on his pipe before sending a large cloud of smoke out into the room. It was like he was trying to insulate their conversation from unwanted ears. “I know you've heard that people believe your parents died in the fire that destroyed your house. What I want to know, if you'll tell me, is your recollection of that day. How did the fire start?”
There was something about her uncle's demeanor that made Muriel feel it would be all right to answer his question. “I know it is commonly accepted, around here that my parents died in the fire. But that's not true! We escaped by using a secret door hidden in our wood box.”
“Why didn't your parents use the front door or one of the windows?”
“Because the ones who started the fire were hoping we would do just that, so they could catch us when we fled.” Vav shook his head in agreement. Resolutely slapping his knee, Muriel's revelation helped him make up his mind. Her answer had become a password that gave her entrance to his thoughts.
“Fifteen summers ago,” he began explaining, “your father came knocking on our door. It was in the middle of the night when we let him into the house. His clothes were torn and stained with blood. Looking like a wounded animal being hunted down, he had a horrible tale to tell, one that told how black fiends attacked his home and burned it to the ground. Just as you said, he revealed how he escaped the inferno through a secret door hidden in the woodbox.”
Vav touched Muriel's arm with a look of concern showing on his face. “He explained how he and Mara were forced to leave you in a hollowed-out tree while they tried to make good their escape. Again-and-again, he recited the promise he gave you, the one where he said he would return, once the danger passed.” Brushing some wayward hair out of Muriel's mist-filled eyes, he added, “Child, your father was tormented by his failure to save you.”
After Hylde leaned over and put her arms around her niece, Vav recounted, as best as he could, the words his brother had spoken that night. “Because of how well we knew that part of the forest, we were certain we could shake our pursuers. But this didn't happen. We tried every trick in the book, but to no avail. When the bugles sounded again, they were perilously close... Calling on all the speed we had, Mara and I tried to sprint across a small glen our path ran through. We had barely entered open ground, when a hunchman, leaping out of the trees, caught my wife. Mara screamed in terror when the creature bit into her back, trying to sever her spine. But it missed its target! Withdrawing its fangs, the hunchman snapped open its jaws to complete its work. Engrossed in trying to kill my wife, the beast forgot about me, an oversight it would not live to regret, not after I split its fire-blasted skull open! While helping Mara to her feet, the sound of hoof-beats rolled out of the fog. It was no use running anymore. We were surrounded by the fire-blasted monsters.”
'Where is your daughter?' The fiends demanded an answer.”
'She is not here.' I shouted back.”
'Tell me where she is and I might let you two live.' the horseman replied, looking pleased with his obvious lie.”
'Never! You fire-blasted leech.' My words only seemed to entertain the horseman more. “Rising up in his stirrups, the loathsome thing shouted out to the others. 'The girl's not here. Quick, retrace her parents' steps and find her. I don't think a little thing like her will be able to hide for long.'”
'Brap, let's hurt them and kill them before we leave,' one of the footmen snarled. 'We got to 'cause they killed Gillmush.'”
'You're right! They did kill Gillmush, and Thorpel too!' The leader of the sordid group shook his black head in disgust over his comrade's shortsightedness. 'You idiot! Why don't you ask them if they'll put down their swords, so you can make them pay for your brothers' deaths.'”
The horseman's steed whirled about as he shouted. 'We don't have time for this... We came for the girl. Don't challenge them in hand-to-hand fighting! I can't afford to lose anymore of you. Use your bows.'”
The first arrow hit my shoulder, knocking me to the ground.”
Lifting up her bow, Mara returned fire. But before I could get up, I saw one arrow after the other hitting her body. Still, she refused to fall until she had let her last arrow fly. In my heart, I knew she was trying to kill as many of the river-children as she could to increase Muriel's odds of escaping.”
In the end, her body fell on top of mine... dead.”
Holding her as tightly as I could, I waited for my executioners to arrive. But they never came. Whether or not the fog obscured our bodies so much that they thought they had dealt both of us death blows, I'll never know. After the horseman sounded a single loud note on his bugle, he and his company raced back down the trail in search of Muriel.”
Driven to despair by my wife's death, and weakened by the loss of blood, I tried to decide what course of action to take. It was clear to me that I would be of little help to my daughter in the condition I was in. So, I decided to follow my original plan and get help before I returned for Muriel. I was sure this plan had a good chance of working, as long as my daughter remained in hiding.”
Not being able to bear the thought of wild animals picking at Mara's body, I bent down and pulled her up onto my good shoulder and continued on to my friend Brau's home. It took me most of the day to get there.”
When I arrived, Brau and his two sons took Mara's body from me and led me inside their home. After I told them what had happened, Rutnor, Brau's wife, tended my wound. Once the wound was cleaned and dressed, we set off to find Muriel: me, Brau, and his two sons.”
It was the middle of the night before we reached the hollowed-out tree where I had hidden my daughter. Overwhelmed with sorrow, when I found it was empty, I fell to the ground weeping. While I was caught up in grief, Brau directed his sons to scour the surrounding woods in case Muriel had wondered off to find another hiding place. Hearing her named called out over-and-over again, I was shaken out of my sorrow and joined Brau and his sons in their search. All that night we looked for her, and all the next day. On the second morning, just before sunrise, I thanked Brau for his help. Then, after making certain he would take care of Mara's body, I set off to find my daughter.”
Vav paused for a good while, giving Muriel time to weep in Hylde's comforting arms before he continued sharing his brother's words.
'For some foul reason,' Laz explained, 'the creatures wanted my daughter, not me or my wife. So I seriously doubt they only want to kill her.'”
'Why do you think they wanted Muriel?' I asked my brother, who was riddled with a fever his wound was responsible for.”
Searching my face with eyes too intense to describe, he asked, 'Have you heard of someone called Schmar and his river-children?'”
'Yes, in stories that tell about a lair laying near the roots of the Thangmor Mountains, where they say he imprisons kidnapped children taken out of Nyeg Warl.'”
Grabbing me with his good hand, your father was desperate as he spoke. 'Vav, I swear the black things that attacked my family are river-children. They came for my daughter, burn it to ashes, not for me or my wife! I tell you, Schmar's kidnapped my c
hild! And I'll be cursed to darkness if I don't dig up his evil lair and kill him with my own hands. He'll rue the day that he places a finger on Muriel.'”
Seeing your father was so frantic, I tried calming him down by assuring him that I would help him find you. Then hugging him as tightly as I could, I added, 'Brother, your loss is my loss. Let's get some rest before we make our plans to get your daughter back.'”
My words seemed to alleviate your father's agitation. So, we fed him, cleaned him up and gave him a change of clothes. Later, as we were trying to get some sleep, I lay awake listening to your father tossing about as he, no doubt, struggled with some hellish nightmare.”
After hearing Laz cry out, 'No! No! No!' in his fever-drenched sleep, I began wondering how much his delirium had skewed his perspective on things. So, I planned on insisting that he rest long enough to permit his reason to be restored, even if this meant we would not set off to find you for several more days. But I had underestimated his resolve and found he had already departed by himself long before I woke. That was the last time I saw or heard from my brother.”
The next day, I rode off over the Fyne and toward the Dyne where your home stood. Pushing my mount as hard as I dared, I arrived at your home that evening and found it just as your father had described it. I spent the next morning roaming the countryside looking for clues. Finding nothing, I headed north to have a talk with Brau.” It was sometime in the afternoon before I pulled up to his house. He, his sons, and I talked at length about what had happened. I was told they had buried your mother at the foot of a granite outcropping overlooking the Dyne River, so she could continue searching the river for signs of her missing daughter… for you, Muriel. They also said, though they never saw the river-chidlren, they did discover inhuman foot prints scattered about the glen where Mara was killed.”
Bringing out the arrowheads they dug out of Laz and Mara, as well as two arrows they found laying intact in the glen, they asked me to examine them. I concluded, as they had, that they were of a make unfamiliar to us: their steel heads had anguished faces engraved on them; their shafts were made of blood-soaked bone, and their tail feathers were made of shredded gristle.”
