Battle of Nyeg Warl

by Rex Hazelton

  After some discussion, we all agreed it would be best for us to withhold our story until necessity dictated otherwise. That's why your aunt Myra thinks her sister died in a fire. None of us expected our silence to last for fifteen summers. But as time passed, and with the emerging influence of the Society of Truth, it became easier to let the whole thing get buried under the sands of time.”

  Slumping, Vav paused giving himself time to gather the determination needed to say the things that were on his mind.

  “Muriel, I ask your forgiveness for not telling your father's story before now.” Sighing he continued. “I want you to know I spent many days searching for him. Recalling that Laz believed the kidnappers were Schmar's river-children, I scoured the Dyne River until it disappeared beneath a wall of stone that stands on the lower slopes of the Thangmor Mountains.”

  Having said all that was on his mind, Vav extended his arms and let the palms of his large hands fall upon the table's top before looking to his niece. Muriel now felt as exhausted as she had the day she escaped from Schmar's evil cave. Sobbing, as the full impact of her parents' plight fell upon her, travail gushed forth from the reservoir of bitterness that had quickly gathered in her heart. Vivid images of her mother valiantly fighting off Schmar's children filled her mind, causing waves of grief to flood over her. Then a vision of a peaceful outcropping of granite, standing watch over the Dyne River, appeared in her mind's eye, forcing the waters of sorrow to flow out of her eyes. Her thoughts, reaching out toward her mother's grave, said, I'm here mother... I've escaped the beast!

  Caught in the grip of anguish, Muriel spoke imploringly. “Father, where have you gone? I need your help! Please, help me! I'm so alone. Help me. Someone, please help me!”

  Truamor, moved to compassion by her cousin's pleas, went to Muriel's side. “I'm here. You don't have to be alone ever again.” In that moment, the hearts of the two young women were irrevocably bonded.

  The candles had burned low by the time Muriel emptied herself of her emotions.

  After Hylde lit others, Muriel told her new-found family her side of the story. Though she struggled to remember everything that had happened to her in Schmar's cave, the fact she had seen this character, who as far as Vav's family was concerned only lived in the warl of legend and rumor, cast a shadow over their hearts. They knew if they chose to believe Muriel's account, their lives, from that time forward, would never be the same.

  Vav and Hylde insisted Muriel spend the night with them so that she wouldn't have to return to Ivy's Inn at such a late hour. Truamor gladly shared her bed with her cousin. Muriel was relieved she didn't have to spend the night alone. In time, the room fell silent as each went to sleep wondering how the evening's events might affect their lives.

  The next morning, Muriel woke to the appealing aroma of fried eggs, potato pancakes, biscuits and gravy.

  Truamor, who had just awakened herself, leaned on one elbow as she genially smiled at her guest. “Good morning cousin. Let's eat. After last night, I think I could devour a whole cow for breakfast.”

  Rousing herself to her feet, Muriel changed out of the long nightgown Hylde had loaned her and back into her cotton dress. As she was seating herself at the breakfast table, the front door opened and Vav walked in and sat down. The amount of sunlight accompanying him into the room told how he had foregone going to work in his fields that day. His presence meant that he wanted to continue their conversation.

  The house was filled with an amiable atmosphere, one Muriel felt was sincere, even though everyone went about their activities in near silence. The warmth she sensed in the occasional exchange of polite banter allowed her to relax and enjoy the morning with her relatives. She knew Vav would get to the crux of the matter in due time, so she gladly partook of the culinary delights Hylde served up.

  As the food was being consumed, their conversation livened up. The energy their meal gave them was responsible for this change. Muriel learned how the Fyne and Dyne River converged on one another a day's journey north of Barm to form the Wyne River that flowed into Vineland, the home of Wombur the Bull King.

  When Wombur was mentioned, Vav chimed in, “If that rogue Koyer is ever going to have his way in Nyeg Warl, he'll have to contend with the Bull first. He may be able to intimidate the other kings, but not Wombar. The Bull King is fully aware of Koyer's intentions to spread his influence over Nyeg Warl, and because of this, he realizes war is inevitable. He sees the approaching storm and is vigilantly preparing to meet its inescapable onslaught. Sadly, the other kings are approaching this issue with far less determination. But enough of that.”

  Reaching across the table to hold his niece's hand in his own, Vav added, “Muriel, I want you to know that we believe your story. Because of what you've told us, it's obvious that Koyer isn't the only one we should be worried about.”

  Muriel slumped in gratitude. “Thank you, all of you. You can't possibly know what this means to me.”

  Patting her hand in reassurance, Vav said, “Sweetheart, listen carefully, though we believe you, there are many in Barm who won't, and some of those who won't are dangerous.”

  The memory of the man in the bluish-gray cloak returned to Muriel as she replied, “Do you mean the Society of Truth?”

  “Yes. You wouldn't want the fire-blasted Society to hear your story. They'd surely loose the Fires of Darkness on you. And there are others we should be concerned about as well, for there wouldn't even be a Society of Truth if people hadn't accepted it. You see, the Society only reflects things that people want to believe. Since it's natural to want to believe the warl is safe from wicked men, some of those who can't handle the possibility this might not be true will want to silence the voices that challenge their belief. Muriel, once you tell the others all that you know, your presence will become a disturbing voice that will need to be silenced.”

  The condition of the warl Grour Blood had returned Muriel to was becoming painfully clear to her. “Then you're saying the people of Barm won't want me to stay?”

  “If you tell the truth, many will want you to leave. Others, like the Society of Truth, will want you discredited or destroyed,” Vav explained. “But there are others who will listen to you, and I believe, ultimately stand with you. Wombar the Bull King is proof of this, for he has outlawed the Society in his kingdom.” Pausing to consider this fact, Vav added, “You might need to seek refuge in Vineland. But as long as you're in Barm, please be careful. Still, I want you to know, if you do decide to tell the village what has happened to you, we will stand with you.”

  After breakfast was over Muriel thanked Vav and excused herself to go tell Myra where she had spent the night. On her way back to Ivy's Inn, Muriel recalled, with some consternation, the conversation she had with her cousin Anna while they sat beside the village's fountain, the day before. She began wishing she had met her uncle Vav before she met her aunt Myra.

  The warmth that Myra and Anna greeted her with, as she reentered the inn, helped alleviate some of Muriel's fears. After telling them where she had spent the previous night, Muriel dismissed herself from their presence, telling them she needed some time to herself. Then she set off to find Grour Blood and tell him all that had happened.

  Anna accompanied Muriel down the cobblestone road until she reached the home of her boyfriend Clouse. There the two parted ways.

  After only one day among humans, Muriel found herself feeling a deep sense of relief at having the opportunity to get away from the air of uncertainty surrounding them. As she left the lovely little village, that posed as many questions as it had answered, Muriel looked forward to experiencing the stability Grour Blood presence exuded.In her excitement at seeing her winged-guardian, Muriel nearly ran from the bridge, crossing the Fyne River, all the way to the greenwood and on towards the copse of tall fir trees where she and Grour Blood had last spoken.

  Lifting their heads, the farmers watched her hurrying by their fields.

  Once among the tightly grouped pines, Murie
l called out Grour Blood's name. “Where are you? It's me, Muriel Blood.”

  A large shadow, moving silently among the huge timbers, approached the young woman. Hearing the mighty griffin's deep rumbling purr, Muriel ran to meet her friend. Throwing herself on the winge-lion's muscular neck, she wept.

  “There, there now Muriel Blood, everything's going to be all right,” the griffin assured her. “Tell me Little Sister, how have things gone for you this past day?”

  “Oh, Grour Blood, it was both wonderful and dreadful all at the same time.”

  “Muriel Blood, whatever do you mean?”

  “It was wonderful because I've already found some of my relatives, and dreadful because I was told that my mother was killed by those who kidnapped me.”

  “What of your father?”

  “No one knows.”

  “Plus, there are those who may not want me stay around!”

  “Little Sister, please explain.” Grour Blood was concerned.

  “I've learned that there's something called the Society of Truth. It goes around discrediting those who say they have been held captive by either Schmar or Koyer. They think, by doing this, they are ensuring peace will prevail.”

  “Oh, I see,” the wise griffin replied. “It's the old story of 'don't rock the boat.' They think Nyeg Warl's peace will be maintained by keeping the status quo, even if the status quo has skeletons in the closet.” Grour Blood growled before continuing. “The fools! Don't they realize the spider can't live if you tear down its web.”

  “You mean Schmar couldn't exist if people didn't permit him to?” Muriel inquired.

  “Little Sister, if all of Nyeg Warl were to rise up against Schmar, face the truth of his insidious behavior and do something about it, he wouldn't last until the next full moon... His strength isn't in numbers, rather it lies in the power of fear and shame that he uses to blackmail the warl. He counts on peoples' unwillingness to admit he has smeared their families with his filth for fear that others will think there is something inherently wrong with their bloodlines and make them outcasts. These foolish ones are his allies, the soldiers he commands... Though they don't believe it, in many ways, Schmar is as much their lord as he is to those who call him father.”

  “How do you know so much about this, Grour Blood?” Muriel asked in amazement.

  Snarling, Grour Blood explained. “I know the one you call Schmar and the griffin call Worm. Our fathers met him in battle, when the Warl's were still one. And the bitter lessons they learned have not been forgotten.”

  Letting out a pained-filled moan, Grour Blood continued. “In the days preceding the Breach, Schmar and his apt pupil, Ab'Don, captured a number of young griffin, those who had gone on the journey following the Rites of Passage. Some of these griffin, after being defiled with a woe they had never dreamt was possible, were driven mad, and in their madness, they longed to humiliate others of their kind in the same way, thinking that by doing this they would feel better about themselves. Glad they were now the ones dishing out the woe rather than being its recipient, these reveled in the feelings of power this brought them. Blinded by the Worm's wicked magic, mutated by the darkness they now lived in, these became man-eaters.”

  The few who escaped and returned to Stromane to tell their tales of horror, were silenced by the shame their families felt. Sadly, this silence permitted other young griffin to go flying off into the trap that was set for them. But in time, a griffin was found with courage enough to rise above the shame he and his family felt. He was the one who went throughout Stromane warning others about the snare that lay in the Warl.”

  Pausing to let his words have their full affect on Muriel, he added, “His voice became a roar that shook the pride from its sleep. It was then that the elders of the community met and faced the problem head on. Teachers were sent to inform all the blood about what had happened at the hands of Ab'Don and the Worm. Rallying as one, the community was now focused on undoing the harm that had stricken its children. So, they took those of the pride who had been humiliated at the hands of these grotesque men and permitted them to be brought through the Rites of Passage once more. These were honored, above all other griffin, with the title Twice Born of the Community of Blood.”

  The mighty griffin lifted his head in pride as he declared, “I am Grour Blood from the line of the Twice Born, for my ancestors were as you are Little Sister. You see, we are family in more ways than you know.”

  Then in an instant Grour Blood's mood changed for the worse. The hair on his back bristled, his lips drew back revealing his formidable fangs, and he began pacing back and forth, like a caged animal, as he spoke. “Afterwards, the unspeakable happened in the Battle of the Breach, a horror which will forever scar the pride's soul.”

  Confused by her friend's dark mood, Muriel asked, “What happened, Grour Blood? What unspeakable thing are you talking about?”

  Without warning the mighty griffin began growling; his ears lay back on his powerful head; his eyes filled with an intensity she had never seen before. For the first time, Muriel felt fear in the presence of a griffin.

  “BURN IT TO ASHES!” The tawny beast bellowed the curse that turned into a blood curdling roar, one that chased the birds out of the copse of trees they were standing in before furiously rushing on through the forest and out into the fields where the farmers labored. If Muriel would have been on the road that ran through the bottom land and on towards Barm, she would have seen the farmers stop in their tracks when the whirlwind of sound swept over them, quizzing each other about its meaning and origin. The value the mighty griffin placed on secrecy made his outburst even more startling to Muriel, who now watched the tormented griffin struggle to speak.

  “We... we... shed griffin blood!” the great beast confessed.

  “What do you mean, Grour Blood?”

  “Griffin took the lives of other griffin in the Battle of the Breach!” The winged-lion was panting hard now. His head hung so low that his nostrils stirred up dead pine needles with each halting breath he took. “Ab'Don, may his name be cut off from the living, enlisted a handful of griffin, those who chose his dark magic over the glory of the light, to help him conquer the Warl. These fallen brothers devoured hundreds of humans in the fighting that followed. News of the atrocities our blood committed reached the cliffs of Stromane about the time King Winslett was being executed on Ab'don's orders. It is said the sound of mourning and sorrow the creatures of Stromane heard that day, was no less passionate than our ancestor's vehement cries at the time of their extinction. In time, sorrow turned into anger and our fathers leapt into the air to save the humans, knowing that our blood would continue slaughtering them.”

  But our fathers didn't arrive until after the Battle of the Breach had already begun. So when they flew into the Warl, they saw their blood, those fighting for Ab'Don, already mauling his enemies. Their roars of outrage caught their unholy brethren's attention, drawing them away from the battle on the ground.”

  Knifing through the sky, with the warm, red blood of their human victims still dripping from their fangs and claws, they bellowed with an arrogance bred by Ab'Don's magic. Then, before they knew it, the wayward griffin were surrounded by their fathers. That day, the armies fighting below heard a thunder storm break out of the cloudless sky spreading overhead. And as quickly as a cloudburst's showers fall upon the land, the dark ones were torn into pieces that fell on the warring rmies below.”

  “Their anger now abated, our fathers sat perched on the tops of the Verdant Mountains, watching the birds of the air feasting on their children's carcasses laying on the bloodstained plains below. It was then the Warl was torn asunder by the magic that put a stop to Ab'Don's assault, creating the Breach Sea.”

  “I'm so sorry.” Muriel's simple words had the effect of disarming Grour Blood, stripping him of his uncharacteristic defensiveness.

  “Little Sister, your words have troubled my soul,” Grour Blood replied as he transformed back into the noble griffin Muri
el had always known. “I need to visit, among other places, Vestylkynd, where the School of the Sword and Song is found and Mystlkynd, Mystlnor the Elf-Man's home. There I might gain understanding of what is happening in Nyeg Warl. Will you be safe if I'm gone for a while?”

  “Yes, I'm certain I'll be safe,” Muriel confidently stated. “I've met both my mother's sister, Myra and my father's brother, Vav. I'm sure I'll be all right until you return.”

  “Then I'll be on my way, once the cover of night arrives,” Muriel's winged-guardian explained. “Now that's settled, tell me in as much detail as you can everything you heard or said this past day.”

  Muriel proceeded to give a blow-by-blow description of all she had experienced in her first day in Barm. Grour Blood took special interest in the man in the cloak, saying, “bluish-gray,” out loud as he made a mental note of this information. Later, the mighty griffin's amber eyes glinted like fire as he heard about the things that had been said between Muriel and her uncle Vav. At last, a look of relief crossed his face when he was told how her uncle and his family had pledged Muriel their support.

  Comforted by this knowledge, Grour Blood's eyes narrowed as he allowed himself to stare past the greenwood and into a time long past. “Muriel Blood, we griffin believe you are the Prophetess who legend teaches us will arise to help the Hammer Bearer heal the Breach and usher in Parm Warl. When happens, we also believe the wound inflicted on the pride's soul, through Ab' Don and the Worm's evil magic, will be cured. Parm Warl's arrival will mark the end of the civil war that has scarred the Community of Blood all these many winters.”

  “I thought the war of the griffin ended when Ar Warl and Nyeg Warl were separated at the Battle of the Breach?” Muriel interjected. “Surely you don't think other Fallen Ones are walking in the Warls, do you?”