by Rex Hazelton
Chapter 35: Shiprock Island
High on Vestylkynd's insuperable walls, Jeaf held Muriel in his arms, watching the magnificent griffin taking off from the courtyard below. Goldan and Truamor, who rode on Seym Blood's powerful back, waved as they soared passed the couple on their way up into the sky. Fyreed's long braids bounced off his wide back as he leaned forward over Tor Blood's shoulder as if he were straining to see Thundyrkynd from this vast distance. The rest of the griffin, who were already far ahead, looked like a flock of geese heading south for what little winter remained as they knifed through the crisp morning air.
Jeaf and Muriel embraced. Tenderly kissing, they wanted to take advantage of the short time remaining before war broke out in its full, furious force. Goldan, Fyreed, and the others had gone home to visit their families and meet with their leaders, each carrying messages from Vestylkynd. The children of Nyeg Warl's rulers had similarly gone to their respective homes to encourage their fathers to unite with the others. Ahrnosyn had sent them forth with the admonition that they were the keys to success in the coming struggle.
Earlier, the Chief Mentor had a thousand candles lit, so those who gathered in the Hall of Meditation could call on the magic that had awakened in the warl. With one voice, they asked for the gift of Anointed Speech be granted to them, speech that would capture their father's hearts, loosing them from the fear and suspicion they held towards each other. And as the candles' flames flickered off the cathedral's walls, Alynd stood holding one of Andara's tears in the palm of his hand. Blowing on its surface, he sent a cloud of amber light into the great room, filling it with a magical mist that sent the candles' flames leaping off their waxy perches. Finding a new resting place atop the students' heads, they danced joyously in the air.
Moved by this sight, Muriel's beautiful voice rose above the sounds of astonishment echoing off of the polished wood-covered walls as she began prophesying over the students in song.
You shall go forth as the dew of the morning,
Clothing your fathers with glistening glory.
On the day the Song of Breaking is sung,
The hearts of the fathers will return to the sons.
Then the curse shall be lifted from off the warl,
Volunteers will come to cast down their sorrow.
With shining swords and flickering arrows,
The brave company will rise up to herald,
Parm Warl's glory is coming.
When she finished her song, a thousand swords shot up into the air. The flames, sitting atop the students' heads, rushed up their arms, enveloping the blades in orange, yellow and blue splendor as the names of the represented kingdoms were shouted out, one after the other, “Eagle's Vale for Nyeg Warl, Riverkynd for Nyeg Warl, Thundyrkynd for Nyeg Warl, Wilderkynd for Nyeg Warl, Shomeron for Nyeg Warl, Plagea for Nyeg Warl, Wyneskynd for Nyeg Warl, Tayn'waeh for Nyeg Warl, Cassiakynd for Nyeg Warl, Verdant Deep for Nyeg Warl!”
The names of numerous villages and hamlets were added to the list that resonated through the Hall of Meditation. In response to all of this, the Warl's Magic gathered up Andara's power and sent an amber shaft of light high above the cathedral until it disappeared in the star lit heavens.
It was later recounted that all Nyeg Warl could see the luminous pillar. Included in those who witnessed this phenomenon were the forces of darkness festering along the shores of the Cragmar River.
Five-hundred young men and women left the following day armed with the Chief Mentor's commission. Five-hundred more remained behind with the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer. The flight of griffin was the final group to depart. Watching them leave, Jeaf knew that the gears of Nyeg Warl's war machine would be shifted into gear once the army of messengers arrived home.
Watching his brothers depart, Grour Blood sat perched atop Vestylkynd's rose-colored walls looking like a huge tawny raptor. After observing the couple's kiss, he made a deep rumbling noise as he cleared his throat to speak. “Remember Ahrnosyn wants to meet with us in the Great Hall. If you don't mind, I'm going on ahead.” The huge cat hesitated when he saw that his words didn't have the slightest affect on the couple and their long embrace. But before crouching to jump down off the wall and onto the courtyard below, the powerful griffin added, “Don't be long, or I'll have to come back and drag you two there by the scruffs of your necks.”
Once he leapt into the air, the majestic griffin laughed as he spread his huge wings and soared downward toward the Great Hall. The thought of him carrying the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer in his mouth, like they were two griffin cubs, had humored the mighty beast.
The Woodswane spoke as his eyes drank in Muriel's beauty. “I love you with all my heart!”
“And I love you with all my being,” the griffin-woman replied, her own heart enraptured with the handsome man who held her in his strong arms.
Their love had blossomed in Vestylkynd. Living in such close proximity, while spending every moment they could with one another, each day was like a fortnight and each fortnight was like a brace of moons that provided the time their relationship needed to mature.
“I guess we should go?” Jeaf was asking a question more than making a statement.
With the uncertainty of war laying ahead of them, made the two reticent to leave the blessed moment. But, in time, they walked along the rose-colored parapets, down the spiral stairway winding its way through one of the stone towers and out into the street that led to the Great Hall.
****
“Winter will soon end and the War of Decision will begin.” Ahrnosyn, who sat with Alynd and the wizard Bacchanor, looked intently at Jeaf, Muriel and Grour Blood as he spoke. “It is now time for you to play your part in the matter. The prophecies of the Hammer Bearer and the Prophetess are calling out to you, encouraging you to arise and set your feet on destiny's highway.”
“Chief Mentor,” Jeaf addressed the learned man, “what are we to do?”
Ahrnosyns's somber expression conveyed the gravity of the conversation. “You must help Muriel learn to sing the Song of Breaking.”
“How shall I do that?” Jeaf's frustrated tone revealed his sense of uncertainty. “Shouldn't we be seeking Bacchanor's advice on this matter? After all, he's a Master of Songs.”
The shape-shifter was shaken out of his reflections when he heard his name being called. “I know many songs filled with wondrous magic, but I don't know the Song of Breaking.”
“Neither do I,” said the Bard of Nyeg Warl. “The Prophetess is the only one who can learn its melody and release its magic.”
“But why me?” Muriel complained as she felt the weight of the others' expectations being placed on her.”
“Only the Singer himself knows that for certain, My Dear,” Ahrnosyn replied in consolingly. “But we're not totally ignorant of this mystery and the magic that guides it. We believe one of the reasons why you have been chosen to learn this song is because you're numbered among those who need its magic the most.”
“What do you mean?” Muriel sounded tense.
Ahrnosyn's fatherly demeanor reached out to comfort the beautiful woman as he spoke. “Schmar's sorcery still permeates your mind and soul like the lingering scent of burnt wood after a fire. Though you've physically escaped that vermin's perverted lair, the dark magic he sought to bind you with still reaches out to lay hold of you and shall continue to do so until you've learned to sing the Song of Breaking that will ultimately free you from the curse.”
“And where shall I learn the words to this song?”
“You will learn to sing the Song of Breaking in the place where the things that need to be broken off you were affixed to you!”
Muriel became suddenly dizzy; her heart sank within her. Falling into Jeaf's arms, she wailed out, “NOOOOO! I can't go back there!”
“But you must!” Ahrnosyn's voice revealed a strength totally consistent with his fatherly demeanor. “Yet don't despair, the magic that has awakened in the warl has provided deliverers who will g
o with you, chiefest among these is the Hammer Bearer. The power that permeates Vlad'War's Child will enable you to face the demon.”
Fear and uncertainty clutched at Muriel's mind. “But what if I'm not the Prophetess?”
“You are she.” The Chief Mentor spoke reassuringly. “The signs are clear, you've brought the griffin back to Nyeg Warl; by your graces, you have won the Hammer Bearer's heart; with your touch and voice, you have healed the sick and raised the dead. All here have seen the virtue of your prophetic gifting and agree with my conclusions.”
“But I'm not a princess, nor a nobleman's daughter; I am but an orphan child of a commoner.”
“An orphan, Yes! But Laz was no commoner.” Ahrnosyn's enigmatic words riveted Muriel's attention to those things he would soon utter. “He was filled with the Warl's Magic even as Jeaf is, and, like him, he didn't know it. Surely your father's ring that rests upon your finger has taught you this.”
As the Chief Mentor spoke of the ring, it began to vibrate on Muriel's hand.
“Yes Muriel! Your family is filled with the magic that has awakened in the warl.” Grour Blood's deep voice vibrated through her chest as he spoke. “Why this is so, is a mystery. But it's true, you are the Prophetess who will learn to sing the Song of Breaking. That's why I first committed myself to keeping you safe… though now I do it for love's sake.”
With that said, the Prophetess reached out and hugged her guardian before the mighty griffin added, “You are Muriel Blood of Stromane, Little Sister. No longer an orphan, you have a family of hundreds that are perched atop Stromane's towering white cliffs waiting for your beckon call.”
“If returning to Schmar's lair is my fate,” resignation filled Muriel's words, “how will I do this if I can't remember where it is?”
“Indeed, Schmar's lair is not called the Cave of Forgetfulness in vain,” Alynd surmised. “For those who escape that odious place can't remember the way they took to do so.”
“Schmar's magic is strong.” Ahrnosyn stood and paced about as he pondered his own words. “But we have an idea where the door to that hideous place can be found. From what Muriel has told us, the entrance to Schmar's lair is not far from the village of Barm, laying near a waterway we believe is either the Dyne or Fyne River. Grour Blood tells us that he first found Muriel on the banks of the Dyne River. It has long been known that the foothills from which the Dyne emerges is full of evil magic. Therefore, it is our guess the entrance to the dark kingdom lies somewhere in that vicinity. No doubt, the magic that is awakening in the warl will bring the exact location back to Muriel's memory, once she has braved a journey there.”
Her father's ring, glowing on her hand, gave Muriel the strength to say. “When do we leave?” And as she spoke, it surrounded her in bright light.
Ahrnosyn, shielding his eyes with his arm, replied, “Once the Company of the Hammer has been reassembled, you'll begin your journey. But until then, your time is your own.”
“So soon,” Jeaf questioned the Chief Mentor as he stepped into the light and held Muriel in his arms.
“Yes, you must go as soon as possible. Since we've liberated Koyer's prisoners, it's certain he will move up the time of his invasion. It's imperative the Prophetess learn the Song of Breaking before his foul hordes can advance too far.”
“Who will go with us?” Jeaf and Muriel were now clearly visible in the ring's diminishing radiance.
“Who has fate brought to you?” Ahrnosyn quizzed.
“Alynd, Goldan, Bacchanor, Fyreed, Tsut'waeh and yourself,” Jeaf recounted the names of those who had joined him on his journey from the flight from his home to his stay in Vestylkynd.
“You're right. But I won't be going with you. I must stay in Vestylkynd to work what magic I may from here. And I doubt you could tear Grour Blood from Muriel's side. But there may be another you have forgotten. Think Jeaf.”
A vision of a rock skidding along a forest path filled the young Woodswane's mind as he searched his memory. “That's right, Bear!”
Smiling at the thought of the ragamuffin giant, Ahrnosyn concluded by saying, “Don't forget Beryl… for look for the one who stood with you at the beginning, to be by your side at the end.”
****
The wind rushed through Jeaf and Muriel's hair as they sped across the Crystal plains astride Grour Blood, on a trip to Shiprock Island. It would be the last one they would take before they began their march into darkness. Soon, the island's jagged cliffs could be seen rising out of the Peaceful Sea's emerald waves. In time, the mighty griffin deposited his passengers on the rock table, just as he had so many times before. Then he was off to hunt for fish.
Taking Muriel by her hand, Jeaf led her down the cliff's slopping backside and onto a game trail that took them through a sylvan forest. On they went, laughing and talking as they journeyed through the wildwood. Their joy in being in one another's presence was so great it seemed that all of creation had disappeared except for the two of them and the portion of forest they now walked through.
After a lengthy hike, the couple emerged out from under the verdant canopy of trees. Winding their way down a shorter cliff, they stepped onto a narrow beach that stretched southward until it turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Passing over the buckskin-colored sand, they came upon an old ship's hull whose bow had been driven deep into the beach.
Jeaf and Muriel, who had come this way many times before, loved to play a game where they tried to guess the abandoned vessel's history. Was it a cargo ship, washed ashore by a tremendous storm's winds? Could it be one of Ab'Don's ancient armada that sailed against Riverkynd?
The two spent the afternoon sitting on the sand beside the mysterious vessel, sharing their hopes and dreams with one another. A calm breeze, now warmer than it had been on the previous trips, gently caressed their skin as they spoke.
Finally, as the sun, looking like a giant orange ball, dipped towards a watery horizon, Jeaf stood to his feet and pulled Muriel up. The beached vessel, silhouetted by the radiant sun, sat behind them as he asked her the question that had been welling up in his heart. Soon the words, that came to him more easily than any others he had said before, gushed forth. “Will you be my wife and take me as your husband?”
Muriel's eyes moistened with tears as she stumbled over her words. “I... I... I don't know what to say.”
“What's wrong?” Jeaf asked, watching Muriel's face grow red.
“Are you sure you want to marry someone like me?”
“Yes, I'm sure!”
“But you don't know all that has happened to me. Even I don't know all that has happened to me, and those things I do recall are horrible.”
“I know that you spent most of your life in Schmar's hideous lair,” Jeaf firmly replied, “where he cast his darkness over you, defiling both your body and soul.”
“But you can't imagine the things that were done to me!” Muriel nearly shouted as she pushed Jeaf away.
Following Muriel, who was now making a retreat to the wildwood, Jeaf lifted his voice. “I want to marry you for who you are today, not for what has or hasn't happened to you in the past!”
Muriel stopped back peddling and fell to her knees sobbing. “What if the things I can't remember are more horrible than you can handle?”
Dropping down beside Muriel, Jeaf lifted her chin. “Muriel, you're the love of my life!” Leaning forward he kissed her rich, full lips as he whispered, “Don't let the shame Schmar heaped on you keep you from accepting my love. He's already stolen enough.”
Suddenly a voice that was familiar to Muriel spoke out of the air surrounding them. “Trust him. For this, he was born!”
Startled, Jeaf rose to one knee and placed his hand upon his sword. Looking quickly about, he tried to locate the voice's author. But no one was to be found.
Feeling Muriel rise to her feet, Jeaf followed her lead. Turning to look at her lovely face, he found it was reflecting radiant light emanating from her ring. The magical illumination engulf
ed the couple when the voice returned and exhorted them to, “Behold!” And as they lifted their eyes to look upon the old shipwreck that looked like an ink stain against the setting sun's blazing orb, the radiance that enveloped them rushed forward and spread over the old vessel, bathing it in a rainbow of color and filling it with texture.
Then to their amazement, the old ship groaned in its resting place on the beach and slowly lifted out of the bed of sand that had gathered around it: broken timbers suddenly were made whole; railings were mended; huge masts made a cracking sound as they stood upright, once more; loud popping noises, accompanied the appearance of massive sails filling up with cool evening air; ornate trimmings of star's blood bejeweled a deck suddenly filled with cheerful sailors, stout men who were busily readying the magnificent vessel for the open seas.
The radiant light's magic continued sweeping westward past the resurrected ship and out over the emerald sea, until it washed over the huge orange sun, changing it into the largest moon Jeaf and Muriel had ever seen. Then, as they lifted their eyes to gaze upon the ship's helm, they gasped when they saw themselves in the fullness of life, steering the mighty vessel, each wearing royal garments. Alynd, Bacchanor, Goldan, holding Truamor in his arms, and Fyreed, who held hands with a beautiful woman they had not seen before, stood on the deck beneath them. But most interestingly of all was the presence of four handsome young men standing beside them. They too were dressed in royal apparel, but unlike Jeaf and Muriel, they wore crowns made of star's blood upon their heads.
“Who are these four young men?” the voice inquired.
“I do not know,” Muriel replied, her heart filled with wonder.
“If you will not allow past shipwrecks to keep you from sailing life's seas, you shall discover their identities.”
Turning to the man whose love she once feared, while a smile like the dawning of the day spread across her face, she said, “Yes, My Love, I will be your wife!”
