by Rex Hazelton
Once inside, Alynd removed his hat and said, “Today I'm going to teach you the Art of N'Rah.”
“What's N'Rah?” Jeaf asked.
“It's the magic that causes our organs to function, our muscles to move, and our thoughts to take shape.”
“Then it's life, isn't it?” Jeaf surmised.
“Precisely.” Alynd agreed with the young Woodswane's assessment of his explanation. “It's the mystery of life, the magic that can take inanimate substance and turn it into a reasoning creature.”
As was his custom whenever he was caught in thought, the Elf-Man placed his index finger against his lips before he continued. “It can also be used as a weapon. Properly focused, N'Rah's magic can deliver a blow that is an accumulation of a body's entire strength, strength that is not just physical alone but is also intellectual, emotional, and moral.”
“Let me illustrate.” Alynd's eyes flashed blue. “Come over and take hold of my shoulders. But be ready for a fall.”
Setting his feet, the Elf-Man lifted the palm of his hand towards Jeaf as he approached. Suddenly, the young Woodswane felt a blow hit his chest like a sack of grain had been thrown against him.
UUFFF! Stunned, Jeaf found himself laying on the floor with the wind knocked out of his lungs. “You used this power when we fought the Soldiers of Truth.”
“Yes.”
“Can you teach me how to use it?”
“That's why I brought you here.” Alynd explained before he began his instruction. “First, you must realize that N'Rah cannot be exerted indefinitely. Like a boxer recoils after each new blow is unleashed, N'Rah, once expended, must be regathered before it can be used again. Secondly, like the one who delivers a punch, your feet must provide a firm foundation from which N'Rah's blow can be launched. And lastly, N'Rah can only be extended a short distance beyond your arm's reach, like heat radiating beyond a flame.”
“But isn't it true, the hotter the fire, the farther its heat can reach?”
“Yes,” Alynd agreed. “This is something I encourage you to consider.”
The two men worked the rest of the afternoon, and many afternoons to follow, on this technique. Jeaf discovered how strong emotions such as anger increased the power of the blow. But, ironically, a sense of peace was needed to direct it accurately. The young Woodswane learned that unbridled anger, by itself, was a destructive force, but anger, when directed by wisdom, was a gift given to all living things to ward off harm.
“Can anyone learn to use N'Rah?” Jeaf asked.
“Many can learn how to use this technique, but few really do. Only a handful of people in either Warl have any expertise in it. Some of the Candle Makers, like Illumanor, can use this magic, but the philosophy they hold so dear limits its power. They have a misguided belief that teaches how emotions hinder its operation. They think if they divest themselves of their human impulses and inclinations, this will help them tap into N'Rah's magic. What they don't realize is that these emotions are a part of N'Rah, and if denied, a part of its magic is lost.”
It is true N'Rah functions best in an atmosphere undergirded by a peace that is birthed out of wisdom. But the calm accompanying passivity is not true peace.”
The Candle Makers can't reconcile how sheep, bleating under the watchful eye of the Singer, can transform into roaring lions in the presence of their enemies. But until they learn to roar like lions, they will never learn to use the full power that N'Rah provides.”
Jeaf, you must learn the wisdom of being both a sheep and a lion: as a sheep, you will not let your emotions go unbridled; as a lion, you will learn to unleash every instinct that N'Rah has given you. Remember, it's both the sheep and the lion, the sword and the song. The balance that exists between these two is where true life is found.”
Once Alynd was done, Jeaf posed a question that was troubling him. “If our emotions, our ability to reason, and the ability we possess to move our bodies are things that come from N'Rah, why are there people with evil instincts and destructive emotions?”
Alynd's eyes splashed blue light throughout the chamber as he gave his answer. “N'Rah is no more good or evil than say, your muscles are. Though it empowers us to think, it is this very ability that enables us to bend N'Rah's magic to our will. This is a great paradox, one you must try to understand.”
Placing his index finger against his lips, the Elf-Man gathered his thoughts. “There are parents who teach their children to be cruel, or neglect to protect them from those who are. Then, after they're grown, these teach their own sons and daughters the same horrible lessons until, at last, evil winds its way into their lineage and their N'Rah is corrupted.”
“But not everyone who is trained in such ways chose that path for their lives,” the young Woodswane interjected.
“True enough,” Alynd resplied. “That's why each generation must give an account for themselves. There's a magic greater than the dismal power of cruelty that stands as a doorway to freedom each can walk through, if they so desire. Some open this door and walk out of the house of darkness that they have lived in; others, refusing this opportunity, just make themselves at home.”
****
One afternoon, as the Elf-Man and Woodswane were engaged in another arduous training session in the room behind the waterfall, Silvamor burst in upon them. “Jeaf, your father has come to Mystlkynd.”
“My Father! Where is he?” The young Woodswane looked boyish as he replied.
“He's with Ramskynd in the King's Council Chamber.” Silvamor placed his hand on Jeaf's shoulder as he added, “Your father has brought dreadful news with him.”
“The news isn't about my mother, is it?”
“No, My Friend, fair Elamor is fine. But the warl you left when you entered Mystlkynd has been turned on its head.”
Alynd, sensing the tension in Silvamor's words, chimed in, “Let's not delay our leaving. I'm sure Jeaf wants to see his father and I want to hear about the changes taking place in Nyeg Warl.”
The three men slipped out of the cave, down the cliffside, and out onto the pathway that led home.
Sometime later, they were entering one of the doors cut into Shar'At's impressive trunk. Once inside, Silvamor led them down a long flight of stairs that emerged onto a landing, jutting out over a precipice located south of the great tree. The landing was cut into one of Shar'At's massive roots that wound downward along the cliffside until it dug its way back into the stone wall. Stepping off the landing, Silvamor led his friends down a stairway carved into the giant root. Jeaf, who had never gone this way before, put his hand against the cliff-wall to make certain he wouldn't lose his balance and fall. Alynd didn't seem to be bothered by the dizzying height.
WHEW! It sure is a long way down. But if this is the way to the King's Council Chamber, then my father must have already made the climb. The young Woodswane comforted himself with this thought.
Two other roots plummeted down the escarpment, looking like wax dripping off a giant candle and down the table it sat on. But instead of diving into the cliffside, like the root Jeaf was now on, they plunged all the way to the ground and sunk themselves into the good soil covering southern Mystlkynd. Here, a handful of bridges, crossing the space found between the nearest trees and the roots, led to stairs that the elves, from the lower city, used to reach Shar'At and the upper city. Watching the elf-children climbing up and down these steps, with no more concern than if they were walking on level ground, Jeaf felt self-conscious about needing to keep contact with the cliffside.
An ornate archway stood at the place where the root dug its way into the stone. Once this threshold was crossed, the three friends entered a large chamber. Here, a brace of equally ornate windows, cut in the stone, provided a spectacular view of the southern reaches; elaborate carvings, depicting Mystlkynd's history, covered the walls; stalagmites and stalagtites, that met each other in midair, were carved to look like pillars that joined the vaulted roof to the polished floor; the great root ran the full length of one
of the walls, until it cut into the rock and disappeared. Large enough to hold a banquet, the chamber was devoid of tables. Only a score of stone-carved chairs, arranged in a circle, sat at its center. A bench, cut into the wall, spread along the room's perimeter.
Seeing Aryl sitting with the king, Jeaf hurried over and embraced his father. And as they hugged one another, the rest of the council stood. Among them were six stout Woodswane, sober men all, who were nearly as adept with the sword as Aryl was.
“Son, you've grown in the weeks since we last saw each other!” Aryl proudly proclaimed.
And indeed, Jeaf had. He now stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with his father and in all physical respects, appeared to be his equal. It was as if the hardship of his flight, mingled with Mystlkynd's magic, had the affect of helping him take the last step into adulthood. No longer a diamond in the rough, Jeaf was quickly being shaped into the many-faceted stone whose brilliance could soon blind Koyer's eyes.
Both men, descendents of the Fane J'Shrym, were olive complected; chestnut-colored hair fell to their shoulders. Well-muscled from the blacksmith work they had done for a living and by the countless hours spent in practicing the Art of Swordsmanship, no one doubted they were capable of taking care of themselves. The only difference between the two was, Jeaf was clean shaven. His father, on the other hand, wore a thick, chestnut-colored beard, liberally salted with white hair.
Holding his son at arms' length, Aryl smiled as he remarked, “I perceive that more has changed about you than just your height.” Aryl turned his head to acknowledge Alynd with a slight bow of his head, as he added, “Though I understand only a little about about the supernatural warl, I do know enough to sense the magic now living in you, My Son. Where you have been and who you've seen, I can only guess by the light that shines in your eyes and by the hammer I see hanging from your belt. But no matter… all I really care about is that you are safe and doing well.”
“Indeed, I am Father,” Jeaf replied as he and the others were escorted to their seats. “And how is Mother?”
“She is safe and living among the Woodswane in the village of Wylderkynd. She sends her love and affection and asks that you not to worry about her, since in the coming days of doubt, you must be freed from your childhood restraints to go where the need of Nyeg Warl leads you.”
“And where may that be?”
Aryl turned to look to Ramskynd for directions. Seeing the elf-king nod, he continued speaking. “Jeaf, the winds of war are now blowing across Nyeg Warl; the festering infection has finally burst out of the Mountains of Sorrow and is even now coursing its way through Nyeg Warl's veins, trying to reach the heart and kill the glory that once was ours.”
“What are you talking about, Father?”
“Koyer has lead an army out of the Isle of Regret and has already conquered the kingdoms located closest to his home. He now controls the land of the Cassians, Froms and Shomeronians. Since a great company of Malamor have been seen moving with his hordes, it is certain that Ab'Don, the dragon who lives in Ar Warl, is vomiting his fire into our lives. When and where Koyer would strike next is not known. Most believe he won't attempt any further advances until fair weather returns in the spring, and that he'll spend the winter preparing for his campaign. Regrettably, Nyeg Warl's immune system has been weakened by centuries of petty bickering. As I see it, we could fail ridding ourselves of the disease that is flooding across the Bridge of Despair.
“Jeaf! The fear gripping each of the kings is fed by pride that tells them they alone know how Nyeg Warl must be ruled and defended. Foolishly listening to the self-aggrandizing voices that tell them they're the true stewards of the Warl's Light, each has come to believe the other rulers, even if they were well meaning, are deceived at best. Therefore, their willingness to unite Nyeg Warl's armies into one cohesive fighting force has been all but banished by this plague of fear and pride.”
They forget that castle walls are made with many blocks, that a chain is formed with many links and that a house is constructed with many timbers. This is where you come in, My Son. As the Hammer Bearer, you may be the only hope for uniting Nyeg Warl in enough time to turn back Koyer's deadly assault.”
Startled to hear his own father addressing him by the prophetic name, Jeaf found it hard to breathe as he asked, “How can I unite Nyeg Warl?”
“How this will play itself out… I can't really say. But what I do know is the Warl's Magic, in its wisdom, has given you the Hammer of Power just as the storm is breaking upon our land. My Son, I believe you will find a way to cast down the fear that drains men's hearts and keeps them from embracing the humility they need to rise up as one man to defeat Ab'Don's forces.”
“If this is true, then what must I do?” Looking into Aryl's face, Jeaf began thinking he might, indeed, have a part to play in the drama that was unfolding in the Nyeg Warl. If his father, whom he knew to be a man of reason, believed he was the Hammer Bearer, then he would too.
“I've been told that you've decided to go to Vestlkynd.” The elder Oakenfel placed his hand on his son's shoulder. “I encourage you to maintain this course for two reasons: first, so you may receive counsel from the Chief Mentor, Ahrnosyn, for he may have light to shed upon the path you must take; secondly, so you may show yourself to the kings' children who now study within the school's hallowed halls. It may be that, once they see you and the hammer you carry, they will become emissaries who will help free their parents from their shortsightedness.”
I would advise you against taking the shortest route to Vestylkynd and the School of the Sword and the Song, for the forests and plains that lie between here and there are filled with Soldiers of Truth who are busily scouring the land in an attempt to arrest you for murdering those in their order.”
Aryl's words stirred Jeaf's memories. Once again, he saw the Soldiers of Truth laying their comrade's crumpled body across the back of his horse. I wonder how Bear's doing. Once he finished intertaining this thought, he turned his attention back to his father.
“Besides this, our brothers have seen other sinister characters, such as bounty hunters and hunchmen, rooting about. So, I suggest you head south towards the land of the Bjork. Since they're Koyer's adamant enemies, you could find an ally there. Seek passage on one of their longboats and go to the land of the Hadram who live on Nyeg Warl's western most shores. From there you can approach Vestylkynd from a direction that your enemies will not expect to find you traveling.”
“Will you not go with me, Father?”
“No! I must return and gather the Woodswane for war. Besides, your mother says my days of helping you, are for now, over. You must face this challenge alone if you are to gain understanding of the hammer and the power it holds.”
Wrestling with disappoint that his father would not be accompanying him on his quest, Jeaf quickly won his struggle and shouldered the burden set before him. “When should I leave, Father?”
“Now, My Son!” Aryl exclaimed.
With this said, Ramskynd signaled one of the elf-attendants, who slipped out of the chamber.
In time, he returned leading a line of others laden with food and drink.
“Eat now Brosantaney and be refreshed.” The elf-king admonished the young Woodswane. “You will be leaving as soon as you are finished. Mystlnor will be traveling with you since it is apparent to the elves that your destinies are interwoven.”
Jeaf turned and looked at Alynd, who returned his thoughtful gaze, as the king continued speaking. “Even now two of our finest horses are being saddled for you, and the provisions you'll need for your journey are being gathered. There is still much daytime left in which you can travel safely and quickly by horseback.”
Addressing Alynd, Ramskynd added, “Keep these horses as long as you need them. If conditions arise where you must strike out on foot, just speak into their ears and tell them to return home and they will obey.”
“May we go too, Father?” Silvamor and Shalamor were unwilling to let the time they were
spending with the Hammer Bearer end.
“No, My Sons. Two horsemen have a better chance of going undetected. The company of elves would only complicate matters. Until the Hammer of Power is revealed and the Prophetess has sung her song, our magic cannot reach far beyond Forest Deep. For now, we must wait.”
Jeaf and the Woodswane spent the meal huddled together, sharing heart and mind. Mystlnor talked earnestly with his elven brothers, in much the same way. There was very little laughter in the room that afternoon as the two friends felt the weight of destiny bearing down on them. It was certain a new age for man and elf was dawning in the warl, but what that age would be, only time and magic would tell.
Later that afternoon, Jeaf and Alynd were ready to mount the powerful roans that the elves had provided them.
Aftering hugging his father one last time, Jeaf went over to Alegramor, who had recently joined them, and said, “Like Melechrom, I have met Chrystillan and have fallen irrevocably in love with her; for Mystlkynd and Forest Deep are like the fair elf-maiden to me, and just as Melechrom betrothed himself to fair Chrystillan, I have given my soul to your city and to your people.”
“We know, Brosantaney.” Alegramor reached out to embrace the Hammer Bearer. “That's why we are sending Mystlnor along with you. Remember, I said that you and he are both a bridge and a bridge builder. So, take care and remember, you'll always have a home in Mystlkynd.”
Chapter 25: The Tsadal
Four powerful steeds galloped in a southwestwardly direction, deftly winding their way beneath the canopy of leaves that spread out like a roof over Forest Deep. Elf-ponies would not do for a job like this. Greater speed was needed, speed that carried them towards evening.
