by Rex Hazelton
A moment later, a gentle olive-complected hand touched his head, and the loveliest voice he had ever heard said, “I know you're here.”
Lifting his eyes, Jeaf stared into the face of the woman he had seen in his vision. “Muriel,” he whispered her name, recording it forever in his brain.
“Are you all right?” Tsut'waeh sounded worried as he lifted his friend to his feet.
Brushing himself off, Jeaf replied, “I'm all right.” Then looking at Muriel he added, “Now.”
After picking the shovel up, smiling at Muriel as he did, the young Woodswane had every intention of clearing the snow off Vestylkynd's walls, but his intentions lacked resolve. Having trouble remaining diligent to his appointed task, Jeaf spent most of the time leaning on the shovel's handle, conversing with the intoxicating woman. His negligence was so blatant, Truamor finally relieved him of his tool so that the young Tayn'waeh would not have to complete the arduous job by himself.
In time, and to his utter consternation, Tsut'waeh found that his friend had abandoned him entirely for Muriel.
All afternoon Tsut'waeh endured the couple's laughter. Then when he couldn't stand it any longer, he shook his head and muttered, “Women… I'll take a good sword over one of them any day.”
Finally fed up with his complaining, Truamor warned the startled Tayn'waeh, “You'll take a swift kick in the butt if you say anything derogatory about my cousin!” “No need to get into a huff!” Tsut'waeh spoke loudly, hoping to disarm the fiery redhead. “If I had to pick a woman to befriend, your cousin would be a fine choice. All I'm trying to say is that I'd choose a sword and adventure over the mushy stuff.”
The young Tayn'waeh's words proved that not only was he better at swordplay than conversing with the fairer sex, he was also better with the blade than the use of diplomacy. For his poorly chosen words only added fuel to the red-head's annoyance.
“So, you think adventure and women are mutually exclusive, do you!?”
Seeing the error of his ways, the young Tayn'waeh lurched into damage control by trying to change subjects. “Did you know that Jeaf and I were almost killed by an avalanche?”
“More things than an avalanche can kill you.” Truamor used her words like a dagger she stuck into Tsut'waeh's ignorance.
Realizing his strategy had failed, the young Tayn'waeh conceded by saying, “I'm sorry to have offended you and your cousin. Please forgive me!”
This last strategy appeared to work. It seemed like the tide had turned once the irritated woman said, “Thank you. Apology accepted.” But it hadn't.
After looking Tsut'waeh over, Truamor began baiting the young Tayn'waeh. “So, you're good with the sword?”
“Some say I am.” Tsut'waeh spoke not knowing when to leave well enough alone.
“Maybe you could teach me a thing or two on the practice field.” A trace of a smile betrayed the subterfuge that was afoot. After a pause, Truamor, who had been diligently trained in the art of warfare by her father, added, “Or maybe, you'll learn something about the fairer sex.”
By this time, Tsut'waeh, who was thoughtfully rubbing his chin, learned it would be better for him if he remained quiet. So, he and Truamor worked in silence until it was time for dinner.
Once the young men had left the women to go and clean up for the evening meal, Tsut'waeh told his friend about Truamor and their conversation. “Boy is she touchy. I think she's challenged me to a friendly dual. At least, I hope it's friendly.”
Hearing this, Jeaf laughed as he warned his dark-skinned friend. “You better get some practice in before you cross swords with her. Muriel told me she's an expert swordsman, whose mettle has already been proven in battle.”
“Great,” Tsut'waeh complained in exasperation, “just great! Why'd you leave me alone with that wildcat anyway?”
“Well, I must admit that you're a handsome enough man, but if I have to choose between Muriel and you… there's no contest.” Jeaf chided his friend.
“Come on,” the flustered Tayn'waeh replied. “I'd rather eat right now than talk anyway.”
****
After cleaning up for dinner, Jeaf went to the Hall of Meeting, the place where the students and faculty took their meals. Once he discovered that Muriel wasn't there, he went to the double doors and waited for her to arrive. In time, a silhouette, moving gracefully over wet cobblestones, caught his attention. Instantly, his palms became sweaty and his heart began beating rapidly in his chest. By all that is righteous, Jeaf swallowed hard, she is beautiful! Then, before he could recapture his composure, Muriel swept up to the door clothed in the light blue dress her cousin Anna helped her pick out, back in Barm. A heavy, dark blue cloak hung loosely about it.
Surprised to find that his mouth had gone as dry as an empty skillet on a hot stove, Jeaf tried to greet Muriel and her constant companion Truamor. “Good evening ladies.” Bowing slightly, he opened the door to the hall. “Would you care to join me and my friends at our table this evening?”
Muriel looked to her cousin, who shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, before she answered. “Yes, that would be fine.”
The moisture returning to his mouth let Jeaf know her answer had been very important to him. Though his nerves abated somewhat, they weren't sufficiently calmed to keep him from clumsily bumping into other students as he escorted the women to their seats. Muriel and Truamor smiled at one another each time the young Woodswane had to excuse himself for running into someone's chair or stepping on someone's foot. Once they had to lower their faces, trying to keep from laughing, when he nearly stumbled over a student and fell to the floor. The only thing that saved Jeaf from the impending humiliation was his uncanny sense of balance. But even then, the little dance he did, to stay upright, was one a court jester would have been proud of.
Once they reached the table, the blushing Woodswane introduced the ladies to his friends. “Muriel. Truamor. This is Fyreed of Thundyrkynd, Bacchanor the wizard, Tsut'waeh who you've already met, Alynd my teacher, and Goldan of Creydlnor.” Turning to the others seated with them, Jeaf apologized after nodding to the Chief Mentor. “I'm sorry… I don't know your names yet.”
Ahrnosyn took this as his cue to introduce his colleagues to the young Hammer Bearer. “As the ladies know, this is Mumfyrd, our expert on rites and rituals and something of a wizard himself. Over here we have Nee, a master of both history and prophecy. And, this is Froeyd, our military expert.”
The talk which took place around the table that night was of the gravest importance, but Jeaf and Muriel heard very little of it. Instead, they picked up where they left off when they were last togather and immersed themselves in a conversation that only the two of them partook of. It was obvious to all who were seated that, despite the thick blanket of snow covering the warl, a romance was budding. At the same time, Truamor caught Goldan's eye and the magic that enveloped Jeaf and Muriel touched them as well.
Later, once dinner had ended, Tsut'waeh was seen shaking his head, once again. After making another one of his familiar remarks about women, he watched his two friends invite the young ladies out for an evening stroll.
“Don't they know war's coming?” A disgusted Tsut'waeh questioned Fyreed as the two men watched the couples disappear around a nearby corner.
“Well, my good friend, there's no need fighting a war if you don't have someone to return to, once it's over.” Fyreed had just shared some Bjork wisdom with the impatient Tayn'waeh.
****
Later that evening, Muriel took the four of them into the Hall of Meditation, the cathedral that Jeaf had seen on the day of his arrival. Uttering a Word of Power that the wise use of magic had affixed to this hallowed place, the young woman brought a thousand candles flickering to life. Towering walls, covered with highly polished walnut, oak and redwood, were revealed. “I come here as often as I can.” Muriel spread her arms wide, moving in a slow pirouette. “Here Nyeg Warl's Magic embraces me and fills me with its warmth and wonder.”
“How s
o?” Jeaf asked his question not so much because he cared about the answer as he was glad to have found something else to share with his enthralling companion.
Muriel's lips, full and inviting, broke into a gentle smile. “It's like wind blowing through the trees.”
“What's like wind blowing through the trees?” Jeaf had already forgotten what they were talking about.
“Silly goose,” Muriel was glad for his attentive gaze, but wished he'd listen to what she was telling him, something that was very important to her, “having Nyeg Warl's Magic visit is like wind blowing through the trees.” Her uplifted hands began to sway back and forth, illustrating what she meant as she asked, “Jeaf, do you have visions?” Her wistful air belied the gravity of her question.
The young Woodswane, startled by her words, had a gut feeling she knew things that he hadn't expected her to know. “Sometimes. Why? Do you?”
Lowering her arms, she looked him straight in the eyes. “Sometimes.” A host of cheerful candles danced behind her like they were excited by the conversation they heard. “Did you have a vision up on the wall earlier today?”
The young Woodswane eyed her suspiciously wondering where she was leading him. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“I don't know if I should.”
“Then let me ask you this... have you seen me before today?”
“You mean in a vision?”
“Yes, in a vision or a dream.”
Jeaf, amazed at the turn of the conversation, decided to be as bold as Muriel was. “Yes, I have. As a matter of fact, you were in the vision I had up on the wall. It's one I've seen before.” Pausing to allow the weight of his words to sink into his own conscious mind, he added, “Why? Have you seen me before?”
Smiling, Muriel responded, “Yes, I've seen you many times before. But I didn't know if you were a real person or not. The shock of meeting you up on the ramparts was so great that I almost fell to the ground right along with you.”
“When was the first you saw me?”
“When I was a little girl.” Muriel's eyes moistened with tears as she gathered the courage to speak. “Jeaf, I've had terrible things happen to me… things I'm afraid to tell you about.”
“What things Muriel?” Jeaf replied as the picture of her standing on a precipice of white stone overlooking an angry sea's violent waves returned.
Dropping her head in shame, Muriel's voice was not much louder than a whisper. “At a very early age I was kidnapped by an evil man called Schmar. His horrible offspring, the river-children, did the dirty work.”
“Were they dark creatures with human form?”
“Yes.” Muriel lifted her face to look at Jeaf. “Have you seen them in one of your visions?”
“No, I wasn't so lucky.” Jeaf spoke as the memory of the pain they inflicted on him returned. Rubbing his chest, he added, “I had the misfortune of having to fight them, and if it wasn't for Alynd, they would have killed me.”
Bolstered by this news, which offered some proof for all she would say, Muriel began telling Jeaf the story of her anguished past. “These monsters killed my parents and carried me away to Schmar's lair. There, horrible things happened to me.”
“What things?” Jeaf's jaw muscles tightened as he asked his question.
“It's hard to remember for certain, for Schmar possesses magic that takes his victim's memories away.” Muriel frowned as she labored to recall her past. “I can only remember disjointed images where that loathsome animal toyed with my life.” Teary-eyed, her admission was a difficult one.
Once Jeaf placed his arm around her and drew her head to his shoulder, she continued. “During that time, I had a reoccurring nightmare. In it, a gruesome beast that looked more like a giant leech than a man carried me up onto a mountain overlooking a city of lights that spread across the hills below. Boasting he owned everything we beheld, the monster painfully assured me that I could never get away from him. Pushing his ugly face close to mine, terrifying me with his malice, he bragged that no matter where I tried to hide, he'd find me.”
But one night, I had a different dream... one where I found myself flying high above the warl. In time, I approached a cloud that had a door made of wood in its side. Entering a room with walls made of vapor, I met a man who was sitting on a chair made of star's blood. Though he was a stranger, I somehow knew he was safe. Motioning me over, he drew me into his arms and held me against his chest, much as you're now doing. All the while, he never said a word...That's when I first saw you.”
After consoling me for the longest time, the man pointed to one of the cloud walls. Instantly, a window appeared, revealing a small cottage sitting in the middle of a greenwood where a little boy and man were playfully fighting each other, using wooden swords. A beautiful woman, holding a blue candle in her hands, stood outside the cottage.”
Eventually, the window closed, the dream would end, and I'd return to my living nightmare. But whenever the gruesome beast invaded my sleep, boasting how he owned me, the very next night I would return to the cloud room and into the wonderful man's arms. Afterwards, the window in the cloud wall would open and I'd get another glimpse of the boy, who, over time, grew into a man.”
Lifting her head, looking into the young Woodswane's handsome face, she whispered, “Jeaf... you're the little boy that I saw through the window, so long ago.”
Gently pulling Muriel closer, he replied, “You don't need to be afraid any longer. I'm here now.”
“I know.” Hot tears ran down the young woman's lovely cheeks
Truamor, who had been listening to what was being said, wept.
Wishing to provide comfort, following the urgings of his heart, Goldan wrapped his arms around her.
So powerful was the sharing, that, unbeknownst to the two couples, the Warl's Magic rushed out of the hall to meet Grour Blood and Seym Blood, who were just returning from Stromane. Filling their huge griffin wings with its wind, the magic carried them to the doors leading into the Hall of Meditation where they took up positions with the tips of their wings touching, making certain nothing would interrupt the holy moment. And as they stood guard, the magical wind pushed the doors open and rushed into the room carrying flames of fire with it. Swirling about the hall, it brushed up against the couples, warming their souls, binding their hearts together, filling them with inexplicable joy. And as they basked in all that was happening to them, the flames that flew upon the magical wind sounded musical notes, a note per flame, notes that came together to fill the hall with resplendent music.
Then, as if cued by the hand of an invisible conductor, Muriel began singing a melody in a language Jeaf couldn't understand. But before he realized what was happening, the Mystery of the Ages breathed on him and he sang the same melody in Nyeg Warl's common tongue. On-and-on they sang as the Warl's Magic infused them with ecstasy: Muriel prophesying; Jeaf giving the interpretation.
Moved by what they heard, the flames of fire began dancing about the couples. Darting in and out, around and about like a multitude of threads being woven together by a magnificent magical loom, the flames formed an elaborate tapestry of color they draped over the young Woodswane and the woman he held in his arms: one cloth, many threads; one purpose, many lives; man and woman becoming one flesh; magic and mortals becoming one army.
“What would you see,” a voice asked, before answering itself, “but the dance of the two armies!”
As the song continued, the flames expanded, one at a time in their appointed order. Within the expanse scenes of war and death, darkness and fear, valor and courage, hope and deliverance appeared and faded away as each flame took its turn. Herding the flames together, as if it was the grand finale, the wind formed a ball of brilliant light that exploded into a vision as large as the Hall of Meditation itself, one that showed Jeaf and Muriel standing beneath a canopy of stars. A man dressed in white robes, trimmed with blue fringes, was wrapping a ribbon of many colors around their wrists, and when he fini
shed doing this, the stars of the sky fell upon the golden robes, decorating the cloth with their glory. As their lips tenderly touched in a passionate kiss, a voice, coming out of the midst of the flames, sang.
Who are these arrayed in the glory of the sky,
Holding the warl in a balance between the truth and a lie?
Who are these joined with a ribbon for all time,
Punishing the destroyers for their heartless crimes?
The Prophetess and the Hammer will break every chain,
Their love will bring righteousness back like the rain.
The Sword and the Song will loosen darkness' spell,
Their magic, like medicine, will make the warl well.
After the vision passed, Goldan and Truamor turned to look at their friends. And when they did, they saw the Hammer Bearer taking a ring off his finger. Separating it in two, he handed half of it to Muriel and the two vanished from sight.
Goldan, knowing about the Wisdor Stone the Bjork had given Jeaf, spoke into Truamor's ear telling her what had happened. Hearing what he said, her expression changed from wonder to greater wonder as the light of the flames shone brightly upon her face.
Finally, the wind flew back out the doors that led into the Hall of Meditation, shepherding the flames of fire along as it went, leaving the room filled with tiny embers of light lingering in the air for a time before they faded away and drifted to the floor. In the end, Goldan, who had been left alone with lovely Truamor, took her in his strong embrace and kissed her upon her willing lips until gentle laughter broke love's spell and Jeaf and Muriel reappeared.
Surprised to see Grour Blood and Seym Blood seated outside of the Hall of Meditation, Muriel went to greet them. The huge cats, who were sitting on their haunches, stood and ambled up to their sister, nuzzling her with their broad noises. Jeaf had to step back as the griffin lowered their huge heads upon Muriel's shoulders, purring with satisfaction as she hugged her two guardians as tightly as she could.
