Fable, page 23
Wyrm waited a good hour. He wanted them to find the body, so he left the torch lit and the entry door open before he left. As the alarms rang out, he waited until all the guards left the danger zone, and then he stole a horse and escaped from the palace; he didn’t use the large stag anymore and couldn’t use portals, so this was the only way he could travel.
At the same time as the alarms started ringing, an eagle slammed into a tree outside the palace gates. As the bird fluttered its wings around, it began changing into a woman. Faiay’aar had managed to make it back, though she’d been lost for ages, trying to find home. She was not without injuries and exhausted, and the journey had taken a huge toll on her mental state. It was lucky that a passing guard who was sent straight out from the throne hall to look after the main gates saw her, lying in blood, her white gown now tattered. As the guard moved closer, he recognized the woman, calling her name before he shouted for help.
“Faiay’aar, is that you? Are you alright?”
Obviously, she wasn’t, but he was in a state of shock himself seeing a powerful dryad mage like that, accompanied by the constant ringing of the alarms which only ever rang when there was an attack on the palace itself.
Faiay’aar looked up at the guard, her face covered in blood. He saw she had binding marks on her wrists. She whispered something the guard couldn’t hear before she laid her head down once more.
The guard kneeled, lifted up her head, and whispered, “It’s me, it’s Maalik Nightingstar.”
Faiay’aar opened her eyes, placed two fingers on his face as he held her, and smiled before passing out. Maalik picked her up and took her inside for immediate medical help.
The dark lord’s resurrection seemed to have failed. The skeletal remains of the large creature had come together and, in fact, he moved and tried speaking at times. But it was not nearly enough to get any kind of cognitive functioning out of him. Viltzin was frustrated, but he knew that it had been a big gamble to even try such a thing.
He needed another elemental treasure stone but had no idea where the last two were. He was relying on the Wyrm to feed his knowledge, but he hadn’t shown up back here since taking the white dryad from Maelenflitt.
The necro-mage was becoming frustrated. The dark faeries had failed to return since going after Faiay’aar, and Felvora was not giving up any more information. He couldn’t kill her now as he had no leverage. She also knew that he would need her again in the future if he was successful in obtaining another stone.
Felvora only hoped that her two friends Grilif and Darf had got through the harsh and densely populated dark forest, and that they and Faiay’aar had reached safety. She was in luck, though, as the little dark faery that escaped from Glinoxx’s cage seemed to have a fascination with the tree mage, hiding when others entered the room but keeping her company when she was alone. He gave up valuable secrets of the makeup of the castle and where Viltzin would go when he left the room, as well as listening to conversations of all kinds of dark creatures and relaying information back to Felvora.
Vaelenflixx had also started cutting the bindings attached to Felvora’s wrists and ankle. Being small made the task nearly impossible, but he worked on it every chance he had. He was a peculiar little sprite, made from the Aurora Forest but twisted into darkness when the dark lord was around all that time ago. He couldn’t remember anything about his home. But there was something familiar about Felvora. He talked in riddles and was very jerky with his flight, but what Felvora admired the most about the tiny creature was his hatred for the dark ones now. He had been through far too much over time to ever trust or like any of them.
Felvora promised him he could live with her if they got out of the current situation, which he was most excited about. He had had a terrible life, and she thought he could use some help and positive company.
Meanwhile, in his library of dark books and potions, Viltzin was studying intensely, trying to find alternative ways to bring the dark lord fully back. But book after book, page after page disappointed him. He worked through the night, then again the next one. He tried to commune with the dark lord Varzunnos to gain some extra insight, but his memory was just not there. He needed the firing neurons of his brain to get that information.
Several more days passed. Felvora was becoming too weak. If she didn’t get out of that place soon, she would not make it. Vaelenflixx was working like a soldier when the coast was clear cutting away at her bindings.
Though she drifted in and out of consciousness, Felvora opened her eyes briefly and glimpsed a large hat with a leaf sticking out of it. She blinked a few times and realized that Grilif and Darf had helped Vaelenflixx finally cut through all the bindings. Felvora was now free, but far too weak to change. She would have to get away on foot. Grilif had just finished covering her wounds with a special remedy he kept in his satchel, and as she had just collapsed to the floor, he gave her a strong herb called “fight.” It was from Aurora and came from a rare tree near Vylass, given to those who needed an adrenaline boost to fight when injured or to run from danger.
The necro-mage was still in his quarters rummaging through books when Felvora in a weakened tone spoke, “We cannot escape this place. There are creatures everywhere.”
Grilif smiled and whispered, “We are gnomes. We find the impossible and that’s exactly what we have done. I cannot explain any more than that. Now, that ‘fight’ should kick in any moment and when it does, turn into something small.”
Felvora thought she was dreaming and when the “fight” kicked in she was ready to go. Before they ran off, Felvora whispered, “I can’t sustain a mist but if I turned into a rat would that be better for our escape?”
Grilif nodded and responded gruffly, “Just hurry, we have a small window of time.”
In that moment Felvora swirled into a small mist and landed next to Grilif and Darf, with Vaelenflixx hovering above. Grilif gestured for them to move, as they began going into small hallways and pipes, passing other rats and mice, dropping, level by level, staying out of sight, moving fast in tight places even for them, before coming to an enormous drop.
Felvora looked down. With her whiskers vibrating like crazy and her eyes bulging, she shook her rat head. Grilif tried to reassure her, but she kept shaking it, and then in a squeaky voice said, “Are you both crazy? That drop will kill us all.”
Now Grilif shook his head and asked straightaway, “Do you trust us, Felvora? If you do, you need to take the leap with us now.” And as soon as he finished speaking, he slid down the large pipe as if on a crazy slide, going left and right, up and down, water flowing alongside him, until he finally reached the end, and with a small drop fell onto a soft bag of flour.
Next Darf followed, and then Vaelenflixx. As they waited in anticipation for Felvora, they soon heard a screech coming from the rat as she dropped next to the others.
Felvora changed back into her full dryad form, looked around, and whispered, “How did we get onto a flour boat, and what is one of these doing so close to Xarkynan?”
As she looked up from where they came, she could tell they were at the other end of the castle and directly underneath.
“When we escaped, we tried to smuggle on board one of these vessels but couldn’t get past the creatures at the ports picking up the food from the barley islands past the mists of Faelynn. We looked around to this side where a special boat was always kept. It must be for repairs. We watched it for days and it didn’t move so we thought if we can get to the island Flen, we have a better chance than going through the dark forest where everyone would be looking for us.”
Felvora stared for a moment at Grilif, taking in what he had just said, then with the last of the “fight” left in her she picked him up and kissed his forehead. Grilif only groaned for a moment, and then as she placed him down, she moved back into rescue mode. “Now, who is going to row us?”
Grilif laughed, knowing no one could, and as he looked at Felvora it was like she could read his mind.
“I think I have enough puff left in me to get us started,” she said. And with that a wind picked up and slowly led them out to sea, taking a quieter route than the other two boats on the water. As they hit the mist, Felvora remembered something from legend. The second island was where the ancient merrow dwelled.
THE DARK LORD AWAKENS
SOON AFTER FELVORA’S ESCAPE, Viltzin entered the room to attempt another resurrection. His thoughts were that she must have had enough time to recover from her ordeals by now, as she was a strong mage.
There were still those parts of the original mind of Viltzin that filtered through, and always close to the surface was the hate at how he was trapped for all that time. But those thoughts and feelings of the original mind were coming through less frequently.
Viltzin discovered Felvora had gone and started tearing the place apart in rage. There were books and potions there as well as the cells. He used that room for multiple things while constantly monitoring the two dryad mages. But his obsession with raising Varzunnos had led to his lack of supervision.
The necro-mage continued his tantrum, tipping over tall storage units and pushing over tables. It wasn’t until he hit the skeletal remains of the dark lord, sitting there lifeless, that he calmed down. He went to the large war horn at the opposite end of the hallway and blew it three times, alerting the castle that there was an escapee.
Glinoxx was the first to attend the necro-mage’s request as he was the only one on that level after Felvora had made a mess of the guards. He chose his words carefully as he saw the look on his master’s face, “Who has escaped, my master? Find them I will.”
Viltzin leaned down and calmly, though assertively, whispered, “Take every single creature in this castle and do not return until you have found her.”
Glinoxx knew immediately who Viltzin had meant. The only females in the castle at the time were the dryads. There were female guards and warriors, but they were all out on missions or seconded to the dark dungeons where they were used for birthing more guards. Even Glinoxx had trouble comprehending the vile and evil necromage’s actions at times.
On he went, running down the stairs and out into the main corridor to the throne room, when a hooded rider stormed into the enormous section of the castle where in the past many feasts of blood and corpses were had. The hooded figure leaped off his horse, pulled his hood away and demanded Glinoxx take him to see Viltzin.
“It’s not a good idea, Wyrm, he’s not in a good mood at the moment.”
Wyrm didn’t care, he knew he would be rewarded after this; in fact, his excitement was that of a young Fae after first learning to fly. “I don’t care, grub, lead me to him now.”
Glinoxx shook his head, and said under his breath, “It’s your life, idiot.”
Wyrm and Glinoxx started to ascend the stairs that the grotesque, spitting goblin had just come from.
“What was that, ugly gnome?” Wyrm said.
Glinoxx wanted to eat his throat just for saying that and would keep it in the back of his mind for later, but whatever Wyrm had to show his master must be worth it, so he decided not to react.
They reached the peak of the staircase and Glinoxx pointed reluctantly over to where the necro-mage was standing. He had his hood on and was staring out of the window, hoping to get a glimpse of the escapee. The castle was extremely high, and he could see nearly all the dark forest of Xarkynan, but if she was out there, she would be deep in the woods. Any form she took would soon be carved up into tiny bits by creatures he had taken as his “people.”
Wyrm slowly approached the necro-mage as Glinoxx descended the stairs once more to inform all those who could search for the escapee.
Viltzin felt someone behind him and used a trick he had learned in his necro-magical studies. When Wyrm was only five or six steps behind him, he whispered in his ear, “Why do you disturb me, traitor?”
Wyrm swung around in fright to see who was there, but it was just a dark and empty hall. He immediately turned back around and realized Viltzin had a sharp dagger connected to his throat, drawing a little blood straightaway. His eyes were always a glowing fiery red and the snarl on his scaly face would make anyone or anything drop on the spot in fear as he whispered to the visitor once more, “What do you want, traitor?”
Wyrm garnered all the strength and courage he could find just to answer that one question. He had to be quick and say the right words or the blade would find its way deep inside his neck. “I have it, master, I have a Tuatha treasure.”
Wyrm could see slight changes in Viltzin’s face as the blade dug a little deeper into his throat. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. Viltzin looked down into Wyrm’s left hand and saw a satchel, and then he slowly looked back up as the snarl showing his yellow needle teeth became more of a grin. The blade eased back until it was out of Wyrm’s skin and moving ever so slowly away from him.
Viltzin licked the dagger quickly with his forked tongue and placed it back into the scabbard on his hip, before switching his temperament completely. “Come, Wyrm, sit with me. I apologize for all that, but it has not been a very productive time lately and your disappearance has only made me paranoid. Now, what do you have in that bag of yours?”
Viltzin was drooling. It wasn’t for food but for power; the dark power corrupted the Zeytar’s mind even more lately.
Wyrm sat back on a side stool near the great horn and handed the bag to Viltzin, saying, “I am sorry, master. I am no traitor, but my cover would have given me up if I were to visit earlier. It seems the queen will leave soon for the Earth realm to save her people from the sinisters. I followed her one night and I found what only the royals knew. There was still some fresh blood on the device allowing entry into the tomb which is what I used to unlock the door; it was pure luck. The security on it was almost impossible to crack as I found out that if you aren’t an Aethelwyne, you don’t get in. Witnessing the queen led me to try it, otherwise it would never have been found.”
This impressed Viltzin. He shifted his gaze away from Wyrm and opened the bag. “We will see now, won’t we?”
Wyrm swallowed hard. He was in a very precarious situation. If the necro-mage was happy, he still might kill him. If he was not, he would surely kill him. The unnerving feeling he always got from the unpredictable necro-mage was nauseating to the point that his paranoia told him he may even be able to read minds. So he constantly gave his master the truth and what he wanted. Better to face a blade from the Aethelwynes than from this creature.
Viltzin pulled the stone from the satchel. The smile on his face was just as horrifying as his snarl. He forgot Wyrm was there and raced into the room where he had kept the dryads and the skeleton of Varzunnos. He figured he didn’t need the dryads anymore, not now anyway, as there would be more than enough power to complete the resurrection on his own.
Viltzin placed the third elemental treasure on the large table in the middle of the two cavities. It was the only piece of furniture that he hadn’t disrupted in his fit of rage.
Once the stone was in position he cleared an area around it to make it accessible. With the dark lord’s body there too, he began pulling power and copying the words the dryads had spoken upon the opening of the first two stones, hauling and drawing from the working elementals. The room was becoming engulfed in wind and fire once more.
Wyrm wasn’t going to wait around and made a dash for it in case it didn’t work.
More and more power was drawn, with incantations of the Celtic Tuatha language before the stone started swirling and humming. Water was now encasing the stone, molding and coursing all around while the top twisted, creating an opening like in the others. It was translucent like the other two as well, not just a black smooth stone.
Viltzin was now laughing which could be heard echoing throughout Xarkynan. As his power increased, the water elemental started rising and joined the other two, creating a vortex of power. The elements turned from their existing power to now a light show of mists, lightning, and force shooting out from Viltzin’s hands, as he pulled more and more. He began the original incantation for resurrecting Varzunnos. He wasn’t weakening at all; on the contrary, he was becoming more energetic and in control. The colors in the room were like lasers and lightning, reds and blues, purples, and greens, cycling through, as Viltzin continued pointing at the dark lord.
Soon the bones were in the air once more, as the land underneath the castle broke away, lifting the whole structure higher into the air. The bones were becoming harder to see as the mists set in, encompassing him, as if the power stones were rebuilding him from scratch. Blue flashes, then red, flames climbed higher as the noise broke windows in the lower sections of the castle.
Viltzin held as best he could, shouting out over the noise the last of his incantations and holding on, before wailing as he collapsed into a heap when the power slowed to a trickle. It dissipated from his hands and went back into the cavities of exposed stone. The mists were still very thick as they swirled the last few times, still sparking with electricity.
Viltzin closed his eyes and passed out for a moment, until a thunderous roar awoke him. Looking up to see what it was, he was met with a sight that even he feared.
Varzunnos was standing where the mist had been, naked and angry. His face was partially animal, and he had a multitude of horns on his head. Two came from the sides, pointing out and down. Two tiny horns were at the front on either side of his forehead, and two larger ones were like antlers or like branches of a tree, reaching high and outward. His teeth were razour-sharp, and he had four ears on the sides of his head, two that were tiny and two ears that pointed higher than an Elvenfae’s. His animal-like face had fur over it with stag features, but formed the complexities of a humanoid face without a snout. His body down to his waist was humanoid, but the remaining part, which Viltzin was staggered to see, was that of an enormous stag with hoofed feet, with dark brown fur covering every inch of his legs.
