Flames of Awakening: Faemoch Cycle Book 1 (4 page)

"'I do believe it wants us to
get on,' I said. Not to anger the monstrous creature any further, we obliged.

"It leaped, without much
warning. We must have flown miles with that one bound. The wind madly whipped
our hair and stung our unshielded faces. Finally, after what seemed hours, we
landed in a much more hospitable area than we'd left. Jaxius and I slid off the
mighty thing's back and dove hastily into some nearby greenery.

The creature sat quietly for quite
some time. We dared not move. My legs started to cramp badly. Still we waited.
It must have eventually grown bored with our hiding because it simply leaped
away. That put we two just outside of Nordras, where we met the good Grundar
and his clansmen."

Tolian then recounted their battle
and the ensuing events quite truthfully. Grundar sobbed deeply through the
vines at hearing the tale of his son's capture. His soul still lay raw from the
awful realization that their journey was almost surely hopeless, but to hear it
all again, narrated to their tiny captor, was too painful to bear.

As Tolian finished, his mouth
stretched into a bright cheerful smile. He stood, arms stretched wide,
blinking, "And that, my dear girl, is how we find ourselves here in your
oh-so-lovely forest clearing. And we beg you, have mercy and release us so that
we may pursue our attackers and Bergar's captors."

Time froze. Breaths came more slowly.
Tolian blinked and gazed questioningly at the fae girl.

Chlora glared at Grundar, Tolian, and
finally Jaxius. "I believe you."

"Oh thank the heavens,
b..." Tolian exclaimed.

"But!" Chlora interjected,
"not a word about the frog dragon is true. They do not exist. I made them
up to see if you would lie to me. And you did, even after I saved your lives
one hundred forty-two times. It makes no sense, I tell you."

Her eyes never left Jaxius. "But
you. I see it now. There was a reason I was raised from my slumber when you
entered my forest. You are special. We have met before, you and I, I think. We
have a special bond. I can feel it calling to me."

As she spoke, her eyes glowed white
hot. She floated up from the ground to put herself  face to face with Jaxius.

"Now, wait a moment,"
Tolian pleaded. "Aren't you going to let us go?"

"Silence!" Chlora commanded
in a baritone voice. "I will see into this man and tell his past.
Something of your story concerns me greatly. That which you said to the doomed
man in the arena. How come you to know that phrase?"

The vines slipped from around Jaxius'
head. "I do not know. It simply felt natural."

Chlora raised one hand to Jaxius'
forehead. Bright blue and white light spread out from her palm, enveloping them
both.

For a moment, Tolian could not see
either Chlora or Jaxius. The light slowly faded, leaving only bright, dancing
sparks in Tolian's eyes. When his eyes finally readjusted to the darkness of
the night, the scene he beheld startled him.

Jaxius was standing stunned on the
ground unbound. Chlora knelt in the snow in front of him, green head bowed in
reverence.

The vines gripping Grundar lowered
him to the ground, gently and then slithered silently back to the forest edge.

"I ... I don't understand,"
Jaxius looked confused.

"You have forgotten yourself,
but I know you, Upuchwe. You will remember all in time. Just know that you can
call on me whenever and wherever you need. I think you will find the place you
seek just over that fallen tree," Chlora pointed at a huge, moss-covered
ancient tree at the edge of their camp.

"Tha's not possible,"
Grundar argued.

"I think you will find that many
things are possible when you meet a faerie in her own wood," Chlora
responded tartly. "Now go, before the witch finishes whatever task she has
planned. I hate that stupid old hag. So good luck."

She faded into the forest, "And
goodbye for now ... cousin. Happy Midwinter."

"Wait," Tolian exclaimed,
"That's impossible. Midwinter's still a week away."

But the tiny fae was already gone.

The companions shook away their
surprise and grabbed their weapons and packs. Wasting no time, they sprinted to
the fallen tree. Rounding the snapped end of the tree, Tolian stopped abruptly.
Jaxius, too, stopped, unable to see over or around his stunned friend. Grundar
bumped hard into Jaxius, his reflexes dulled by grief and pain. All three companions
tumbled down what seemed like an endless slope.

Finally, they hit bottom. Each one
tried to rise from the concussion; each one fell soundlessly back to the packed
snow and earth. Blackness took them all.

Chapter Six

Fire crackled merrily in the hearth.
A wrinkled hand lifted a wickedly barbed knife from the rickety table beside
the wall. The iron chains holding Bergar upside down on the torture rack
rattled as he violently struggled. The stench of whatever brew the vile witch
had poured down his throat churned angrily in his heaving stomach. The burning
in his gut at least let him know that he was still alive. Bergar looked around,
surveying his strange surroundings. A couple of tables, a chair, and numerous
bowls and flasks were scattered around the room. A short, ornate wooden altar
set against the stone wall opposite him held his flickering attention longest.
The horrific carvings along its legs and side depicted vile acts inflicted upon
poor tortured souls by monstrous beings. Atop the altar sat a gold plate and
chalice, several half-melted candles, and an ancient, grayed human skull. The
skull eyed Bergar sympathetically. He prayed that he find a way to not be the
newest addition to the hag's atrocious collection.

There appeared little chance for
escape, even if he could break free from the biting chains. One door stood
ominously on the side of the room opposite the crackling fireplace. The
torchlight that flickered under the door silhouetted two feet. A guard. There
were no windows in the stingy room. The smoke from that glowing fire must go up
some sort of chimney, but even if he found such a route, Bergar was simply too
large to fit up a chimney. Even if he did, somehow, make it up the chimney,
what would he do if the drop to the ground was too great?

His assessment was cut short by the
blinding bolt of pain that shot through his body. The witch who held him
captive dragged her cruel blade across his ribs again. His warm blood trickled
across his chest and neck before finally falling to the floor with a hiss. It
sizzled and boiled as it raced through the purposeful cracks in the stone
floor. His blood, at last, flowed into and filled a circle etched into the
stone around his torture rack.

The witch took up a long stick
affixed with chalk on one end and began drawing symbols around the edge of the
circle, chanting as she went. Her raspy voice got slightly louder as she
worked. When she completed her circle around Bergar, she set the chalk stick to
the side and took up a small, wooden bowl from the nearby table. Taking the
contents from the bowl into her spotted hand, she dribbled the fine sapphire
powder in a line from the bloody circle to the crackling fireplace. Still
chanting, she tossed a handful of the blue powder into the fireplace where it ignited.
Flames leaped from the fireplace and immediately found the thin blue line on
the floor. A sparking flame danced along the powder to the circle of blood,
where it erupted into a solid wall of fire all around Bergar. The heat stole
the breath from him until his lungs ached, and he prayed to the gods to let him
find release. He found no relief in blackness, though. The hag had seen to that
with her burning concoction. Bergar's only outlet was rage. He knew that he,
like all his people, could withstand great torture and trauma whenever they let
their bestial natures take over. So, bit by bit, the young man embraced the
pain. He let it wash over him. He let it lick at his very soul, his primal
self. The pain ripped open a gaping hole there and was met by a creature most
fearsome. Bergar howled an inhuman sound. He was Bergar no more, only white-hot
rage existed now.

"Yes," the witch hissed,
talking to herself or him, Bergar didn't know. "Fill my ritual with your
emotions. The Goddess will attend your screams and come to relish the taste of
your terror. Our masters know so little of her power. But they will, oh yes.
They will. They will see what Fylzia can do to an entire people. Yes, the
ritual may be theirs, but I add the Goddess's power."

She glanced sidelong at a large
mirror, missed during the young barbarian's assessment of the room. Then she
returned to her chanting and working at his flesh like a sculptor while he
growled and cursed. Bergar bucked and strained, trying to break free of the
iron fetters. But the chains binding him to the devilish contraption held fast.
Bergar's anger continued to boil and erupt, time and again. Flexing his mighty
chest and pulling tight his entire body, again and again, soon caused the
wooden rack behind him to crack and creak. The witch, paused in her evil
chants, shrank from him, a look of fear and disgust on her face.

"Morgrys, aid me!"

The door swung open and her lackey
entered with a menacing stride.

"Calm him," she said.

Grinning with pleasure at the task
set before him, Morgrys swung a heavy boot around to meet the side of Bergar's
face. Fully taken now by his rage, the pain the tortured barbarian received
only fueled him. His anger swelled, and as it did his strength and force of
will mounted as well. Bergar flexed harder, feeling his muscles tear beneath
his skin. As his shoulder nearly dislocated from the force of his pulling, the
torture rack's support beams snapped.

First an arm, then a leg pulled free.
Bergar slumped to the floor, the red-hot stones searing his already wounded
flesh.

Bergar peered up and a wild look
contorted his rugged face. He charged Morgrys, knowing that his own speed was
far greater than his captor's in his pain-induced rage. The tortured barbarian
jumped through the air and prepared himself to throttle the life from both
Morgrys and the accursed hag. Inches from Morgrys's throat, though, his
grasping hands met an impenetrable resistance. They folded into his chest, and
his face slammed into the same barrier. His rage suddenly spent, and his momentum
stopped mid-air, Bergar crumpled to the floor.

The witch raised her hands, and
Bergar lifted from the floor, suspended by her dark magics. He hung in the air,
arms and legs spread wide, once again upside-down. His face pulsed with pain.
No longer able to breathe through his smashed nose, his chest heaved in and out
with short, ragged breaths. His rage burned its final flare. Bergar raised his
head and sliced a hole through the witch with his fatal stare.

"I will see you die,
witch."

His threat was met only by a shrill
cackle. The hag waved her bony hand and his torture rack flew out of the way
and crashed against the wall. She promptly went back to work defacing Bergar's
flesh with small cuts and designs.

Morgrys raised an eyebrow, and with
it came the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

"You will not win, boy. You and
your entire people are weak." Morgrys spat in his face and promptly left
the room. The small hollow click of the door shutting was the last sound Bergar
heard before finally succumbing to the blessed darkness.

Chapter Seven

After a few moments, Tolian's vision
cleared. None of the scrapes and bruises that he thought he had suffered on his
way down the hillside were visible. After another moment, he realized the hill
that they had fallen down was not visible either. In fact, there wasn't any
kind of hill at all, only deeply quiet forest. Apparently Jaxius had come to
the same realization. The two men eyed each other. Grundar joined his blank
stare with the others.

Although they were in a small
clearing, surrounded by woods, they were definitely not in the same clearing
where they had decided to make camp. But the bard had no solid idea of where
they might be.

"Great. Now we have to figure
out where we are." Tolian sighed. He looked at Grundar with a raised
questioning eyebrow.

Grundar shrugged.

"Or how much time has
passed," Jaxius added.

Tolian decided that they must still
be in the same forest. The trees looked the same, more or less. Ahead of him,
night was approaching quickly through the deep snow blanketed forest. He turned
around to face the sunset, and panic grabbed him. They were standing at the
forest edge near a settlement. As he looked more closely, Tolian noticed that
this was not merely a settlement, but a large tower surrounded by an even
larger camp. Immediately he dropped to the ground behind some covering bushes.

Jaxius turned to see the reason for
Tolian's odd actions and quickly followed suit, dragging the confused Grundar
with him.

Tolian whispered, "It's sunset.
We are at the edge of a forest. And there is a very big tower, with an equally
huge raider camp, a stone's pitch away. Do you think that faerie brought us
here somehow?"

"The fae o' th' wood do
mysterious things, friend bard," Grundar whispered back. "Mysterious
an' evil magics they possess."

"Do you know what tower this
is?" Jaxius asked, matching his friends' whispering.

"Nay, but if I had t' guess
..." he replied, "I would say ‘tis the cursed Claw of Fulzadar.
Fylzia's den o' evil. Them what are surroundin' it are her horde."

"I am going to get a bit closer,"
Tolian whispered. He crouched as close to the ground as he could. Finding a
good hiding spot behind some evergreen bushes at the outermost edge of the
forest, he began mentally detailing their predicament. Jaxius and Grundar
slowly slid forward to join him. The trio spent the next candle-mark observing
the bustle of the tower and surrounding camp of barbarians.

Finally, Tolian softly slipped back,
deeper into the relative safety of the woods. When Jaxius and Grundar joined
him at length, he relaxed visibly.

"Here is what we know now,"
Tolian began. "These are the obviously same men who attacked us. That
means that this must be where Bergar has been taken. There was one important
element that I didn't notice, though. Guard patrols. Did either of you happen
to see any?"

"No. I also noted no entryway to
the tower. Unless I missed something?" Jaxius asked.

"Nothing. It looks like the
forest surrounds the tower on all sides, though. Perhaps one of us could circle
around and see if we can find the door," Tolian responded.

"Nay, I will jes' kick in her
accursed walls t' git me boy back," Grundar growled. He was growing more
impatient.

"Peace, Grundar. Try to remain
calm for a little longer. I know, my good friend, that you wish nothing more
than to rescue your beloved son. But listen to me. If we rush in, we will
surely be cut down before we even make our way inside. I will move ‘round and
scout for a door, or any other possible route of rescue," Tolian said.
"You just stay here and keep hidden."

"Another question that needs an
answer is what day it is," Jaxius said.

"I would surmise it is Midwinter
Eve," Tolian said. "The custom of the people of Hawklos is very
similar to the custom in Nordras. They burn a man made of sticks and straw.
That's the end of the old. Then they have a birth feast, which is the beginning
of the new. There is much dancing and celebrating. Copious amounts of food are
shared by all. I saw what looked remarkably like a feasting tent, and there was
a group carrying a straw man to the central fire just before we pulled back
here."

Grundar nodded in agreement.
"Well, that would mean we were out for a whole week."

Tolian said, "So it would. And
that means we must hurry. Luckily, they should all be most distracted
tonight."

Tolian moved silently through the
forest in a broad circle around the looming edifice. His life as a performer
afforded him some measure of grace which was much welcomed on this particular
stealthy endeavor. He took quite some time circling the tower. Much to his
surprise, the only entrance that he could find was a window about fifteen feet
from the ground. He found his companions waiting where he had left them.

"Did they see you?" Jaxius
asked.

"No."

"Which side is the door
on?"

"No door. At all. The only
opening I can find that is in any way reasonable is a small window about
fifteen feet up. I think we are going to have to do this like we did in
Chanua," Tolian said to Jaxius.

"Chanua?" Grundar echoed.

Jaxius rolled his eyes and walked
away, turning his back on the conversation.

"Yes. Chanua is a land far to
the west of here. It is a noble land with a very complicated way of life. None
of that really matters right now though. While we were there, we had to rescue
some plans from a very, very bad man. He had built his grand fortress in such a
way that one could only enter through a tunnel whose location was guarded most
secretly. He had made the singular mistake of having regular windows on the
third floor, however. We had to be a bit creative in finding a way in since we
didn't really have the time to find his secret entrance. Our plan was
absolutely amazing. Full of precisely the right combination of amazing luck,
strong-as-steel guts, and sheer stupidity. We fired crossbow bolts into the
wall at intervals and simply climbed our way to a convenient window. Isn't that
wonderfully inventive?"

"Aye. I see what yer gettin' at.
But we ain't got any crossbows."

Jaxius turned about and raised his
hands at the undeniable logic.

"No. But we do have Jaxius'
short spear," Tolian reasoned.

"Which is no crossbow,
Tolian," Jaxius responded. "Besides, it took four bolts in Chanua.
And they didn't make their fortress from the same stuff as this. And how do you
know that the walls aren't magicked against intrusion here? There are too many
holes in your plan for it to work. I say we try taking a prisoner and get the
information from him."

"That will never work, my
friend. First, if we try to obtain a prisoner and fail we are undone. Second,
if we do manage to succeed in acquiring a prisoner and they don't know what we
need, then what? Another and another until finally we have the whole camp here?
We don't have any rope to tie them up with. Third, what if we alert the camp to
our presence before interrogating said prisoner? And finally, to deal with the
idea that the witch cursed the walls against touch, I saw some of the
barbarians leaning on the wall with no problem. Chances are that she feels so
smugly comfortable up there in her tower, that she simply wouldn't think to
spell her windowsills. It's the one shot we have. Put the spear under the
window about ten feet up. One of us will have to stay down on the ground to
hoist the other two up. That's the only way we are getting in. And we have to
do it rather quickly if we are going to do anything."

"So then, wait ... If yer fer
climbin', that prob'bly means tha' I'm the one stayin' behind."

"You are correct, Grundar, but
your job is the most important," Tolian said.

"But he's me son. Ye don' know
what it is t' lose yer son."

"He has a point, Grundar. You
must realize that your people need you. I think we can use just the one step.
The short spear might do for that. If you can hoist us up and then get to the
woods and stay hidden, then you will most likely be able to return and lead
your people. Even if we fail," Jaxius gently reasoned with the forlorn
father.

"Which we won't," Tolian
added.

Grundar's shoulders slumped.
"Fine. I'll be yer steppin' ladder. But be ye warned. If ye are fer takin'
too long fer me tastes, I'ma kick in the walls and come git ye."

Jaxius smiled. "I understand,
friend. I understand. Well, Tolian, what say we get started?"

The group circled around to face the
side where the lowest window sat on the menacing structure. Luckily no guards
were positioned on that particular side of the tower. Jaxius placed his shield
under a bush, knowing that without his spear, it was of little use.

"Grundar, you try to sneak up to
the tower. Get as close as you can without being spotted. I will throw the
spear into the wall above your head. Then, you hoist us up to it. Got it?"

"Aye," Grundar grumbled.
"I still think I ought be savin' me boy."

"We will get him. Trust us. And
stay hidden," the half-elf reminded his friend.

Grundar slinked out as far as he
could, hiding in the bushes, and then turned to a crouching jog when the bushes
no longer provided cover. Waiting until he was almost at the tower, Jaxius let
his spear fly just over Grundar's head. Fast on the tail of the spear, Tolian
and Jaxius sprinted into the open. The spear found a soft spot and sank into
the mortar of the old tower. Jaxius leaped up onto Grundar's shoulder before
the clan chieftain even turned around. One foot paused on the goliath's
shoulder and then it was into the air. His other foot deftly found balance on
the precariously placed shortspear. Another quick spring and he was grabbing
hold of the windowsill with both grasping hands.

Tolian's route was a bit more
forgiving for Grundar, since he waited for Grundar to spin about and set his
hands before making his jump. Like Jaxius though, it was one foot on Grundar,
then one foot on the spear. His final leap didn't gain him as much distance as
Jaxius' had, so he grabbed onto his friend's back, using Jaxius as a sort of
ladder. He climbed to the window and slid thankfully inside. A half second
later Jaxius worked his way inside as well.

"You there, what are you
doing?"

Grundar cringed, thinking Jaxius and
Tolian had already been undone by the owner of the harsh voice. He turned
around and looked at the tower window as he backed up. The fire-cast shadowy
silhouette on the tower's wall told Grundar that he was the one in trouble now,
not his companions.

"Well, y' see ...." Grundar
started.