Gerard tried several silent commands to make the light go away, but none of them seemed to work.
Off, Dim, Dark, Darkness
. It grew very quiet. The air was crackling with tension, as everything alive inside the reach of the magical glow, held its breath. The silence became deafening. No matter what command Gerard gave, the light would not extinguish. Finally, under the intense gaze of all those strange pairs of eyes, he did the only other thing he could think to do. Reluctantly, he pulled the ring off of his finger. A dozen hisses and sighs of relief emitted from the suddenly darkened jungle around them. Gerard made a short prayer to the goddess that the light would stay gone when he slipped the ring back on. He let out his own sigh of relief when it did.
What seemed like days, but was really only a few hours later, they came to a clearing in the trees. Gerard gasped in shock when he saw a bowl-shaped depression, lit like a field full of burning stars by hundreds upon hundreds of campfires. Illuminated in the wavering orange glow around them, were thousands of Skeeks and other strange swamp creatures. A few big four-legged lizards could be seen carrying small groups of their two-legged kin around a perimeter of bigger bonfires. A dactyl bird, like they had seen soaring out over the marshes, was sharpening its long beak on a chunk of the black porous rock that was scattered about the clearing. It looked to Gerard as if all of the creatures there were, in one way or another, preparing for battle.
“An army of Skeeks?” he asked Shaella quietly.
One of the lizard men escorting them hissed out sharply.
“This is only one of several armies. And don’t call them Skeeks.”
She sheathed her sword and took his hand. “They prefer to be called Zardmen or ‘The Zard’. Come now, let’s feast, and then we can work out a plan to steal the dragon’s egg that pleases all of us.”
Gerard couldn’t help but wonder what they would be eating, and just who “all of us” really was.
After being out in the cool, crisp mountain air for the past few days, the Elders’ council chambers seemed stiflingly hot. Every single pore on Hyden’s body was running freely with perspiration. His condition wasn’t caused solely by the temperature though. He was nervous, and more than a little bit afraid. He wanted to leave, but that wasn’t a possibility. The Elders would deny his exit, and probably lock him in a goat burrow if he so much as complained.
Talon was miserable too. He had fluttered over to the tip of one of the dragon skull horns that curved up out of the dancing blue flames, and perched there, but only for a heartbeat or two. Apparently, it was just as hot up there. The hawkling finally flapped his way down to the floor, and found a place between Hyden’s boots.
The stool Hyden was sitting on was directly in front of the dragon skull and facing it. The wicked blaze burning in the skull’s brain cavity made the dragon’s eye sockets seem alive, and made the semi-circle of Elders gathered around it look like a bunch of hungry ghouls.
Halden, the Eldest, sat directly across the sapphire blaze opposite Hyden. The dragon skull’s curved horns framed a disturbing picture, with Hyden’s grandfather at its center. The old man was chanting now, and raising his arms in a series of lunatic gestures. At precise intervals in the Eldest’s manic song, the rest of the Elders spoke the powerful words of invocation in unison. They shouted, in short bursts, phrases that seemed to make the walls of the cavernous burrow they were in hum with reverberation. Slowly, it became repetitive and hypnotic, and Hyden found himself slightly swaying to the flowing rhythm they had created. How long this went on, he couldn’t say. He had become lost in the moment.
Eventually, the walls of the chamber faded. All around and above them, was nothing but a deep empty blackness. Hyden looked up into it. A pinpoint of light appeared, then another, and then several more.
Suddenly, Hyden was looking at the open night sky. It looked exactly the same as it would have if they were outside around a campfire in the very same place. Or did it? Hyden questioned. Hadn’t the real sky been gray and cloudy?
Hyden became aware of the stark silence around him. Between the dragon’s horns, a thin wisp of smoke began to swirl up from the blue flames. The tendrils thickened and twisted like a miniature funnel, and spun crazily until a small featureless humanoid form appeared. It was about as tall as a man’s forearm is long. A pair of arms rose away from its sides. Hyden could see the back and buttocks of a shapely woman slowly define itself. Long flowing hair, curvaceous hips, and smooth tapering legs, formed in perfect miniature out of the swirling smoke. It was the White Goddess, but she was facing away from Hyden. He wanted badly to move to the other side of the dragon skull so that he could look upon her face, but he dared not do anything that might startle her away.
Halden spoke a greeting in a strange language and bowed his upper torso to the misty woman before him. The rest of the Elders remained silent, but all of them bowed their heads to her in a show of respect. Hyden bowed his head too, even though he didn’t think she could see him. Looking down, he noticed that Talon was standing alert, like a statue, with his raptor eyes glued to the apparition floating in the shimmering air over the fire.
The goddess spoke then. Hyden couldn’t understand the words, but he knew that he was the subject of the conversation. He could feel it. Halden responded to her, and then their words switched to the common language.
“The Pact has been broken,” she said gravely. “The guardian of the seal is no longer bound to protect it.”
There was a long silence. After the pause, the voice of the goddess grew angry and harsh.
“This is what happens when old men grow jealous and covet another’s abilities. You changed tradition. It is shameful that a foolish squabble with the elves would cause grown men to act like children.” Before Halden could respond, her smoky form turned to face Hyden.
His breath left him, and his heartbeat quickened. His eyelids felt like they might peal back over his skull. She was beautiful, perfectly formed, and naked. He was glad to see her expression soften before she addressed him.
“For now, you must follow your heart, Hyden Hawk. When you’re lost or confused, Talon will help you find the right path to follow. Eventually, you must get back the ring your brother wears. It was not meant for him. It was meant for you to find.”
She glanced back over her shoulder at Harrap and the other Elders, with distaste showing clearly on her tiny, smoky face.
“The balance of things is out of kilter. The entire nature of prophecy has been fractured. Not even I can know what to expect until the balance has been restored. You must follow your heart Hyden. Your heart and your familiar will guide you until the time comes when you can get the ring back from Gerard.”
She turned back toward the Eldest then, leaving Hyden staring after her.
“The power of prophecy is useless now,” she said, with a quick, nervous glance up into the false sky around them. “Fractured and uncertain is the only future I can see –”
She paused again, and for a moment, seemed confused. Her suddenly fearful expression, along with her words, created a wave of panic among the Elders. More than one pair of shame-filled eyes fell on Hyden. Even the Eldest glanced at his grandson with an expression full of dire concern.
“There is no sure path for him to follow,” she continued. “Any deed of honor might prove to be horribly destructive. A cold betrayal might prove to be the most righteous act ever committed. No one can say with any certainty.”
She spun, and half ducked reflexively, and then looked up into her starry sky, with an arm held out protectively over her face. High over her head, something as dark as the night glided by. Had it not been eclipsing the stars it was passing under, it would have been invisible to them.
“Evil approaches as we speak! It is upon them. You mus –”
Her voice ended abruptly, and her image turned into a shapeless swirl as Talon shot through her, towards the dark thing gliding overhead.
“NOOO!” Hyden screamed at the bird, but it was too late. The spell had been broken. The night sky had been replaced by the stone ceiling of the chamber and Talon struck it with a sickening thump. The Elders gasped as the brave hawkling tumbled to the floor like a feather-covered stone.
The door to the chamber burst open then, and young Derry Skyler came in huffing and covered with sweat, with eyes as big as saucers.
“Something has attacked them!” he said between breaths.
Being a seasoned climber, the boy was in spectacular shape. Hyden knew that he would’ve had to run a long way to be so out of breath. Hyden’s stomach clenched as he realized that Derry had been watching over Vaegon and the kingdom men.
“It was coming down out of the sky on them when I left to warn you. The…they were asleep. Oh Hyden,” he sobbed. “I should have warned them awake instead of…of…”
He fell apart then. He was crying and very confused.
“I pa…panicked. I thought…thought there…thought there might be more of them…come…come…coming here.”
Mikahl’s eyes popped open. His hand went to Ironspike’s hilt and he took in a long deep breath to clear his mind. The beast from his dreams was there! As he exhaled, he tried to force out all of the fear and anxiety that the nightmares had left inside him.
The sudden screeching roar of some creature, followed by the wet ripping sound of one of the horses being brutalized, saved him from having to wake the others. Mikahl spun to his feet and drew the King’s Blade in one fluid motion. Its soft, bluish glow filled the night around them. He didn’t advance towards the beast. Instead, he stood over Lord Gregory and Vaegon protectively until they were both on their feet and armed.
Lord Gregory stared open-mouthed at Ironspike, then at Mikahl.
“So it’s true,” he muttered in astonishment. It was all he could do to keep from falling to a knee on the spot.
At the edge of the blade’s light, the horses brayed and nickered in terror. Beyond that was total darkness.
“Should we cut them loose?” Mikahl asked, indicating the frightened animals. One of them was already a bloody mess, and the scent of its death was traumatizing the others.
“Aye, your Highness,” Lord Gregory said, then went to release them. Mikahl had heard the Lion Lord’s words, but was too intent on the matter in hand to make sense of them.
Vaegon turned in a whirl, and fired an arrow up into the air above and behind Mikahl. Mikahl felt the presence of evil there. He also felt, and heard, a distant musical vibration. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that it might be coming from the sword in his hands. He didn’t have time to contemplate the sensations though: he had to duck. He turned, and came back up quickly with a sharp thrust, but missed the dark thing. Luckily, its big swiping claw missed him too. He saw the elf’s arrow. It was stuck into the creature’s shoulder, and there was a black wetness where it had penetrated.
“It bleeds!” he yelled more to himself than to the others.
It was an odd relief to know that the creature from his dreams was made of flesh and blood, that it had form and substance, and that it could most likely die.
As fast as the hellcat had come, it disappeared back into the darkness. Above, the sky appeared empty, but the thick grayish clouds were backlit by the moon.
“Look for the shape,” Vaegon called out, “the shadow in the sky.”
A sudden sound swept by in the darkness. A horse? Mikahl hoped so. It was probably trying to get as far away from the light of his blade as possible. He also hoped that it wasn’t Windfoot that had been slaughtered, but he didn’t dare take the time to go and check.
Lord Gregory came hurrying back into Ironspike’s radiance. Mikahl saw it then, a speeding shadow coming at them from the side. He cringed and felt his heart drop to the dirt. Not even a warning shout could save the man he respected and loved so much.
Vaegon loosed another arrow and it struck true, but it didn’t help the Lion Lord. The hellcat’s claws dug deep into Lord Gregory’s back and shoulder, and yanked him screaming up into the darkened night. Vaegon started to launch another arrow, but thought better of it. As good as his aim was, under these conditions, he could easily hit the Westland Lord by mistake. He wondered for a fleeting moment if that might not be the merciful thing to do, but then the chance had passed.
“I think it’s afraid of the sword,” said Vaegon. “Or maybe, it’s just the light it’s weary of. Otherwise, I think it would land and fight us tooth and claw.”
“Aye,” Mikahl agreed absently. He was in a state of shock now. His confidence had been snatched away into the night with the Lord of Lake Bottom.
From behind them, came the hellcat’s shrieking growl. Mikahl nearly dropped Ironspike and ran. They turned, and Vaegon made to loose the arrow he had nocked, but the spiked tip of the hellcat’s tail caught him square in the face. He went down hard on his back, his bow tumbling uselessly to the ground as his hands shot up to protect what was left of his ruined eye.
Mikahl swallowed his fear, and swung at the beast with all he had. A glancing slice was all he could manage, but the contact of the blade on the beast’s skin caused it to howl out in rage and pain. It gnashed its teeth together, and snapped its catlike head out, as if it were striking viper. The sharp, blackened maw smashed closed just inches from Mikahl’s nose. The beast’s hot breath stank of burnt steel, rotten flesh and hatred. It reminded Mikahl of how the body-strewn field at Coldfrost had smelled a month after the snows had melted. He had to choke back the urge to vomit.
Mikahl used his backswing to hack at the thing’s extended neck, but it withdrew its head even faster than it had lunged. The miss would’ve carried him off balance, had he been a fraction less agile. Instead of stumbling away as he came around, he pulled his arms in close to his body, like he had once seen a dancer do in a mummers play. It made him spin faster. He did a full revolution, and as he came around the second time, he extended the blade out as far as he could and caught the surprised beast.