Battle of Nyeg Warl

by Rex Hazelton

  Later that night, the tiny burst of light came and stood before Muriel, transforming into a little girl.

  “Mother,” she said.

  “Yes, my darling?”

  “The night is nearly over, and I and the others must leave soon.”

  Hearing the news, the Prophetess looked out over the plains and saw hundreds of luminous children floating before wide-eyed warriors. Numbered among the children were many who looked like adolescents, some like adults.

  “Are they talking to their fathers?”

  “Yes. Or one of their relatives,” Muriel the Free answered softly. “Once we go, they'll be permitted to visit their mothers in the cities and the villages where they are found; the others, who have no relatives here on the plains before us, will be allowed to go to their kin, wherever they are found, so they can ease their pain.”

  After coming over and sitting on Muriel's knee, the little girl asked, “Mother, will you tell me about your life outside Schmar's lair? Tell me about our family.”

  On-and-on mother and daughter talked. The little girl learned about Laz and Mara's bravery. She was told about her aunts and uncles and her cousins Truamor and Anna. Mostly, she was told about Stromane and their family that lived on the towering white cliffs overlooking the green sea. The little girl was delighted to learn that she was numbered among the Blood. She laughed when her mother told her about Slim and Mittens.

  “So, I have relatives who can fly just like me?”

  Grour Blood purred when Muriel the Free leapt off of her mother's lap and stepped over to muss up his mane.

  After a time, Muriel escorted her daughter over to meet Jeaf.

  Now it was the Hammer Bearer's turn to describe a warl the little girl was denied the opportunity to experience. He told her about the Woodwane and what it was like to live in the greenwood. Of all the things he shared with Muriel the Free, the little girl loved most hearing about Elamor and how she would tuck Jeaf in at night back when his was a little boy and then have breakfast waiting for him the following morning. She laughed as Jeaf told her about the times when he and his parents took walks in the forest together and how his father would sweep his mother up into his arms and kiss her.

  “Mother, is that how it would have been for us?”

  “Sweetheart, if Jeaf were my husband and your father, that's exactly how it would have been.”

  “Mother, are you going to marry him?”

  Muriel looked longingly into Jeaf's eyes as she replied,“Yes Sweetheart, I am.”

  This pleased Muriel the Free to no end. “Then Jeaf will be my father, once you're married!”

  “That's right Sweetheart, he'll be your father.”

  Suddenly, Muriel the Free imploded back into the tiny ball of light as she said, “I can't wait to tell the others that Jeaf Oakenfel is going to be my father!” And without further ado, Muriel the Free swirled about the Hammer Bearer's head, mussing up his brown, shoulder length hair.

  Once she had her fill of fun, Muriel the Free transformed back into a little girl and stepped forward to hug her parents for the longest time, her tiny luminous hands feeling like wisps of air gently brushing across their arms.

  In time, she stepped back and said, “Mother, I must go now.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “I don't really know. But I do know that a part of me will always be with you!” Once she finished speaking, Muriel the Free began to twirl around-and-around until all that was left was the tiny ball of light. Then just before she left, she added, “Thanks setting me and my friends free.”

  “Sweetheart, I love you and always will!”

  This made the little girl laugh once more. “I love you too!”

  And before Muriel could say another word, the little comet streaked heavenward where she joined thousands of other lights who flew up to meet her as they rose out of every part of Nyeg Warl. Once gathered, the brilliant swarm flew towards the stars, looking like a vast flock of migrating birds that were heading home.

  ****

  The morning light revealed a grizzly sight. Thousands of dead warriors littered the dormant grasslands covering the Crescent Plains, those that had been alive when the fighting stopped. Only the tall Malamor and a handful of giants remained alive. All the Archan, save one, had been beheaded, making the plains look like a macabre pumpkin patch.

  “Burn it to ashes!” the disgusted Bull King bellowed out when he saw the fruit of the past night's mayhem. “What happened here?”

  A lone blood-soaked Malamor, after dropping his sword and casting his helmet aside, slowly walked up to the Bull King's finely bred stallion. “It seems that our short cousins, having lived their pathetic existence worming about in the Mountains of Sorrow, couldn't stomach the thought of being banished to Ar Warl. You know… I don't think they like Ab'Don very much. So, they took turns chopping off their heads until there was only one of them left. Then the twisted idiot took his own life, slitting his throat with the edge of his ax.”

  “But what about the others,” the Eagle King shook his head in disbelief as he made his inquiry.

  “Do you mean the conscripts that Ab'Don forced into service?”

  “Yes! I saw other flags flying among your own.”

  “Right enough, other Ar Warlers stood in our midst.” The tall blood-soaked Malamor smirked as he spoke. “But there's not enough ships for all of us. So, my brothers and I took care of the problem. If you take a closer look, the banners you spoke of are now laying on the ground beside those who once carried them.”

  “So, you killed them all,” the incredulous Wolf King surmised.

  “Of course,” the tall, blood-soaked Malamor casually answered. “They'd served their purpose.”

  “Well then, if you butchers wish to surrender,” the Bull King's forceful voice rang out, “have the others throw down their swords!”

  Soon sounds of discarded weaponry rattled through the cool morning air.

  “You'll want to build funeral pyres for your comrades before you leave,” Phelp shouted out to the tall Malamor who were already marching toward the nearby beaches.

  “No. We're warriors, not slaves.” The tall blood-soaked Malamor shrugged his shoulders before turning to join the others on their trek to the longboats that waited to ferry them out to the ships. And as he walked, he spat out, “Feed them to the dogs. That's what we would have done with your rotting flesh if we'd won.”

  Later that day the Company of the Hammer watched the patched-up Cassian vessels turned eastward limped off to Ar Warl.

  “Did we make a mistake letting them go,” Fyreed asked, the wrinkles in his face bearing witness to the weight of his question.

  “No,” Alynd replied. “Though we or our sons will likely fight them again, the right choice was made. It would have been a tragedy to have more Nyeg Warl blood spilled to satiate our need for revenge, or to placate our fear of the future. The Battle of Nyeg Warl has ended. We'll take the next fight to Ar Warl, where, if prepared, we will once again beat the Malamor when our swords next cross. But as for today, mercy triumphs over judgment.”

  “What about the hunchmen?" Fyreed inquired about the malicious beasts that surprisingly enough had slipped through the ring of warriors standing guard over the Ar Warlers and escaped under the cover of night.

  “My valiant Bjork, there will always be tares growing among the wheat,” Alynd soberly replied. “But at harvest time, they're removed and cast into the fire.”

  ****

  One moon after the Battle of Nyeg Warl had ended the volcanoes on the Isle of Regret, after nearly five-hundred cold winters of dormancy, erupted. Ahrnosyn said the magic that had awakened in the warl was busy purifying the land.

  Though very little smoke accompanied the eruption, heavy flows of lava gorged the tubes leading to the evil cretchym's insidious dungeons. Running up through G'Lude's abandoned fortress, the molten rock poured down the mountainside and into the Breach Sea's cold waters. The impact of the searing magma, c
areening into the cold green waters, caused majestic clouds of vapor to rise into the skies, so high that all of Nyeg Warl could see them and rejoice in what their presence meant.

  Chapter 48: The Wedding

  Over six moons had passed since the Battle of Decision had ended, and the days of the harvest feasts were drawing near. Once again, funeral pyres blazed on the golden grasslands spreading out before Wyneskynd's war-tested walls, reminiscent of those that burned in the days following the war, but this time their flames only burned symbolically. The day of memorial had arrived, the day that the kings and chieftains had agreed to gather on the Crescent Plains, now called the Plains of Decision to properly honor the brave warriors whose lives were given so that others might live free from Ab'Don's tyranny, was here.

  After returning home and tending to the wounds they incurred in the conflict, each of Nyeg Warl's realms sent a large company of people to represent them at this august occasion. To accentuate the importance of the gathering, the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer's wedding was included in the schedule of events.

  Colorful pavilions, signifying the diverse group assembled around the memorial fires, spread out along the shores of the Wyne River, making Vineland look like a field of resplendent flowers. Though tears flowed freely, the atmosphere was charged with gratitude for the valiant warriors who gave their lives for the love of home and king.

  Elves and men sat elbow-to-elbow; feasts were eaten; an unending string of toasts were made; a free exchange of art and poetry flowed between the peoples who had come from the different realms dotting Nyeg Warl's landscape; beautiful music wafted through the air like sweet smelling incense, while a host of bards and poets entertained the joyful throngs.

  Once the fires had burned themselves out, the Nyeg Warlers gathered the ashes. Carrying them in a sober processional, the holy symbol was placed atop the barrows that held the remains of those who died in the war. The mixed multitude of slain elves, griffin, Vinelanders, Plagean, Woodswane, Hadram, Bjork, Tayn'waeh, Valamor, Shomeronians, Cassians, Froms and Forest People, those whose ashes lay mixed together beneath a thick layer of turf, reflected the mixed company of living that intertwined their hearts in the bonds of shared sorrow while standing atop the plain's rich soil.

  Candle Makers, led by Illumanor, placed a host of candles atop the huge stone that had crushed Koyer's body and was now used to mark the mass grave.

  Following the war, the kings and chieftains sent their greatest artisans to carve intricate scenes across the stone's surface, commemorating the Battle of Decision that many called the Battle of Nyeg Warl. They did this so the generations to come would remember the dear price paid for their freedom. The Candle Makers used steps, painstakingly cut into the rock, to climb to the top of the huge boulder that was wide enough to hold more than a fifty of their order.

  A statue of a fierce looking griffin stood in the midst of the flames glowing atop the stone. The life-like sculpture was made out of crystal transported from Stromane's towering cliffs. The monument was carefully carved to make the griffin look like it was standing guard over the barrows and, as some said, all of Nyeg Warl.

  The long, braided hair and tattooed faces of the Bjork were visible in the mixed assembly, as well as the dark-skinned Tayn'waeh; the elves wore a rainbow of colorful garments; the Woodswane were garbed in the traditional brown and green hues that satisfied their simple woodland tastes; Valamor wore shimmering, white tunics trimmed with gold embroidery; the Plagean were decked out in silver and black. Though the maroon and green of Vineland was most conspicuous, the blue of the Hadram, the red and silver of the Shomeronians, the green and yellow of the Froms, and the orange and brown of the Cassians were well represented.

  Sadly, only a score of men wearing the Tsadal blue and gold were present. These were the survivors of those who had joined Goldan to fight in the Battle of Decision. The rest of their kingdom had withdrawn deeper into the suspicion that gripped their valley, fearing all that had taken place was a trick, a dark conspiracy to get them to leave their fathers' ways.

  Finally, a large entourage of griffin stood among the humans, favoring the Forest People whose tastes in apparel were as eclectic as the places of their births were diverse.

  As the sun set on the auspicious occasion, twelve elven musicians played a haunting melody to mark the end of the day. Woodwinds, flutes and lyres were used to dispense Mystlkynd's music that showered the audience with the enchantment that sustained the forest folks' realm. Bathed in sweet sound, the assembly of mourners stood in silence until the candles burned low. In the moment that the last flame flickered out, a shower of falling stars shone brightly enough to be seen through the rising moon's silvery veil. Recognizing this as having prophetic importance, the crowd shouted a great cry of joy for the blessing the Warl's Magic had bestowed upon them

  ****

  Later that night, the Company of the Hammer gathered to reminisce and enjoy one another's presence before the wedding took place the next evening. Muriel, who spent her time with Truamor and her bridesmaids preparing for the ceremony, was absent, along with Grour Blood her guardian. Joining the Company was Tsut'waeh who had miraculously recovered from his severe wounds after eating one of the leaves the nurse had wisely taken off the sylvan crown he so dearly cherished.

  “Well Shorty, what'r ya goin ta do after you gets married?” Bear's eyes sparkled with the warmth his friendship with the young Woodswane engendered.

  “If you mean right after the wedding ceremony,” Jeaf smiled at the others before continuing, “I guess you'll have to find yourself a pretty giant maiden to marry and find out for yourself.”

  “Oh… knock it off!” A deep crimson color covered the ragamuffin giant's countenance when he caught Jeaf's jest. “Ya knows what I mean.” Aware that an inordinate amount of blood had suddenly rushed to his face, Bear began rubbing his noise with the back of his hand to keep the others from getting a good look at him. Tilting his large, round head allowed a few of his heavy braids to fall over his face, aiding his hand in keeping him from being scrutinized.

  “Forgive me Bear. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity.” Jeaf walked over and slapped his massive friend on shoulders that were even with his own though the giant was sitting on the floor. “After Muriel and I spend time with her adopted family in Stromane, we're going to Vestylkynd to complete our studies and figure out our future.”

  “Yes, and exactly what that future may be will have a huge bearing on us all. For your work as the Hammer Bearer is not yet complete.” Alynd eyed Jeaf intently while idly bouncing the leather pouch that held the last of the magical spheres in his hand.

  “You're talking about the healing of the Breach, right?” Goldan rubbed his smooth chin as he quizzed the Elf-Man.

  “Yes, he is,” Bacchanor replied. “The Battle of Nyeg Warl is only the first great step toward that end.”

  “Indeed,” Alynd chimed in. “As long as Ab'Don's evil magic holds sway over Ar Warl, Parm Warl will not appear and Nyeg Warl won't be safe.”

  “Parm Warl.” Tsut'waeh wistfully said the name of the resplendent age the seers said would come in the days of the Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer as he pulled out the crown of living leaves he held up for all to see.

  “Well if we're going to fight the fire-blasted Sorcerer, let's get going!” Fyreed's enthusiasm for battle made the others laugh in disbelief.

  Goldan, blessed with the foresight leaders possess, replied, “I want to get at Ab'Don just as much as you do. But we're not ready yet. If we rush heedlessly into this fight, the barrows that now lie on the Plains of Decision will be a pittance compared to those that will follow.”

  “Besides,” Silvamor, seated beside his brother Shalamor, spoke up, for unlike many of his woodland kinsman, Shalamor had survived the sea serpent's fire though his scars reminded him that he was lucky to have done so, “Jeaf needs time to learn how to use the hammer's power, for the foul magic living in Ar Warl is far greater than that which he has alread
y faced.”

  Remembering his own people, Goldan added, “And there are things still troubling Ar Warl that need to be addressed before we can move as one man against the enemy.”

  ****

  The Prophetess and the Hammer Bearer stood on a dais that the Vinelanders erected high above the Plains of Decision beneath the Canopy of the Sky, a magical tapestry the Candle Makers had woven. Byrnis, the Ska of the scattered tribe of the Fane J'Shrym, had the honor of presiding over the ceremony. Living among the Forest People, he came out of hiding once the White Guard was destroyed. A powerfully built man, he was a head shorter than Jeaf. The Cloak of Glory covering his broad shoulders fell on either side of his long beard, reaching to the dais he stood on. This was the apparel the Fane J'Shrym's Candle Makers wore for important occasions. A six-pointed star made with star's blood lay on his forehead as it dangled from a thin, leather strap he tied about his balding head. A hood made to look like flame fell over the cloak that covered his back.

  Muriel was as breathtaking as the mountain heights, as graceful as the sylvan woods and as radiant as sunlight splashing on the ocean waves. Dressed in a flowing gown of shimmering green, trimmed with pearls interwoven among tiny bells made of star's blood and wearing a sheer veil covered with a shower of tiny precious stones the griffin had supplied, the Prophetess was a vision of beauty.

  Jeaf wore silver armor the Forest People had given him called the Lion's Mane and a golden cape they called the Cloak of Zeal.A ruby crown, called Valor's Reward was held in his left hand. Serving as armor bearers, Goldan stood nearby holding a magnificent sword the Forest People had named Lion's Claw, while Fyreed was entrusted with an ornate bronze bow named M'Esterian the Judge. Beside them, Tsut'waeh held the living garland. Alynd, Bacchanor, Aryl and Elamor stood alongside Jeaf beneath the Canopy of the Sky. Vav, Hylde, Truamor, Grour Blood, Seym Blood, Mittens and Slim stood beside Muriel.