The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (18 page)

“As in all things, our Lord does not coerce us. However, he also does not let us stray without repercussions. The Grey Elves wear their sin for all to see. Their skin was stained for the arrogance of Treigh and his followers. They were banished from ever returning to Forend.”

Kael glanced at the obelisk. Ilvir read his thoughts. She rose and approached the tall, black stone.

“This was Treigh’s library,” said Ilvir as she studied the stone’s surface. “He obsessed over the Seraphim. He convinced himself that he was the sixth. One day the sign I spoke of appeared here. Treigh inspected the stone. He stared into its shining surface for days. His own countenance stared back from the black mirror. One day the surface swirled and snapped alive. The presence within instructed Treigh to rally his followers and lead them into the obelisk.”

“But why would he do it?” asked Kael.

“Why would he not?” returned Ilvir. “The presence spoke with a great deal of authority and knowledge. And of course more importantly, Treigh wanted to believe.

So he rallied his people, including my daughters, and they passed from Forend forever. They entered the darkness of the obelisk and were lost. But Avra took pity on them and led them from its darkness into the Nagur Wood. There they remained. They await the Final Battle and a chance to redeem themselves.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Kael.

“My husband and his brother possess a deep connection,” smiled Ilvir. “All known to one is also known to the other. That is how I know of you and all that befalls my kin. That is also how I know you have a task at hand.”

She turned and pointed at the last bookcase. Its shelves lay empty. Above it rested the insignia of the Sword of Avra.

“It is time for you to walk along the path He provides for you.”

“But I do not understand,” said Riel rising from the table. “The time is upon us. The best that Forend has to offer sits in this room. Yet you tell us none are the one chosen to lead the Army of Light. This cannot be!”

“Why?” questioned Alel.

Riel spun on him with confusion in his eyes.

“Is that not self-evident?”

“No,” replied the Seraph.

Riel’s eyes widened with shock.

“There is no other. There can be no alternative.”

“With Avra, all things are possible, my friend,” laughed Alel, “and do not forget the lessons of Treigh Admir. Do not let arrogance cloud your minds and make you believe what you hope to believe.”

Riel moved toward the Seraph.

“If it is not one of us, then there is another at hand,” said the Elf, his eyes narrowing. “You shut yourself up within the library for weeks, Lord Alel. You know the answer. Who from amongst the people will lead? Which of the sons of Forend is a gem hiding amongst the stones?”

Others called for a name. They swore to follow the mystery Elf.

“The leader of the Army of Light is not from Forend,” stated Alel.

Protests grew. Dismay ran through the room.

“The prophesies, my lord,” called Riel. “You yourself brought them to our attention. Surely you cannot believe ...”

Alel held up a hand and silenced the room.

“The prophecy called for the Sword of Avra to be of the line of Forend. It did not demand that the chosen Elf reside on this world.”

The Elves within the room looked about in confusion, only Riel stared at Alel through clear eyes.

“A Grey,” he whispered.

Ilvir led Kael down a broad corridor. The floors were of red marble and the walls of gold.  Beautiful paintings hung within alcoves and sculptures came to life atop ornately carved stands. Kael recognized several of the scenes and eyed them with wonder. Ilvir noticed the boy’s attention.

“Alel hears every prayer and every plea directed to Avra. He knows all that takes place within your world. Most of what he sees is shared with the Elves.”

She halted before a large oil panting with a gilded frame. Kael reeled backward nearly bowled over with emotion. He staggered and stared at its glistening surface.

“Alel asked for this painting a few months ago,” said Ilvir. “He was adamant that it be completed rapidly.”

Within the borders of the frame lie a scene of sorrow and bloodshed. A burly warrior stood staring down a woodland path. One hand held aloft a gleaming sword, the other helped shelter a boy behind him. Beside the warrior stood an old man dressed in a patchwork of ill-fitting clothes. The old man’s hands were raised and an aura of green light pulsed about them. In the distance a black beast emerged from the woods toward the trio. Red eyes glared and jaws locked around the lifeless figure of another boy. Blood streaked the pale skin and tousled blonde hair of the body. Delight danced on the edges of the beast’s upturned mouth. Kael closed his eyes and stepped further from the portrait.

“Sacrifice, Kael,” said Ilvir firmly. “ALL are called to sacrifice.”

“You cannot expect us to follow one of the Deceived into battle?” announced Riel. “They are tainted with their sin. They have fallen.”

“No. They have not fallen,” returned Alel sharply. “They were deceived. They did stray, but they have not fallen. They stayed as true to Avra as those of us gathered in this room. Their penance is great but their resolve even greater.”

“But we are called to fight as the Army of Light. We are called to represent Him at the most crucial of times. They come from a line of weakness. They are flawed.”

“We are all flawed. If you enter this battle thinking you are perfect, then you surely will fall. The Lord of Chaos will exploit that against you. He will sow the seeds of self-doubt and terror. They will take hold because you thought yourself incapable of feeling such things. You will not be prepared to face them.”

“But one of the Greys, a Deceived. They are our greatest shame. How can we follow our own shame into battle?”

“By acknowledging it and putting it behind you,” came the reply from the open doorway of the room.

Kael left Ilvir’s side and stepped forward.

“To never ere and face that error is to never grow. I’ve committed plenty of mistakes and so have my kin, but we struggled past those mistakes.” said Kael.

Riel turned to his comrades gathered around the table. They all sat shocked.

“He is just a boy,” said Riel. “Who is he? What has he done?”

Kael confidently strode to the head of the table. Alel smiled and stepped from his path.

“I am Kael Brelgson. Son of Mestor DeHartstron and Wist Admir. Raised by Brelg and Yanwin of Kelky. Heir to the Amethyst throne of Astel. And most importantly,” Kael paused and drew the flaming blue Needle of Ader from its scabbard. “Iam the sixth of the Seraphim. The Sword of Avra.”

CHAPTER 14: INSTRUCTION IN TRUTH

“WINDRIDERS! I WISH TO ENTER YOUR CAMP!”

A rush of movement and cries of alarm met the call. Viday remained pressed against the moss covered trunk of the cypress. Teeg stood beside him peering in the direction of the camp through the trees.

“HOLD WHERE YOU ARE, INTRUDER! WE WILL KILL ANY WHO ENTER OUR RING OF FIRE!”

Orange bonfires glowed throughout the swamp in the direction of the reply. The fires fought to penetrate the gloom but darkness swallowed much of the light a few feet from the source. More sounds of movement wafted through the night air and the hiss of angry voices cut through the oppressive humidity.

“ ... ghosts of the Toxkri. ...”

“They trick us ...”

“ ... others will fall, Yazir. We will fail in our task.”

“YAZIR DUBAD! IT IS I, VIDAY SHAN. I BEAR TERRIBLE NEWS!”

“ ... tricks, Yazir! The spirits use our minds against us ...”

An arrow shot from the camp and slammed into a cypress trunk twenty yards from Viday’s position.

“Silence,” shouted the voice of Yazir, “and hold your arrows.  If theses are the voices of demons, you waste the effort.”

“I WILL MOVE DOWN THE DEER PATH TOWARD YOUR CAMP, YAZIR.” continued Viday. “IF THE VOICE I HEAR IS THAT OF YOUR COUSIN SAYID, ORDER HIM TO STAND DOWN. I DO NOT WISH TO FEEL HIS BOLT WITHIN MY CHEST.”

Viday stepped from behind the cypress, centered his feet in the path and slowly walked toward the light. A harsh, whispered argument continued within the ring of fire but the Windrider did not falter. As he moved forward, wisps of movement within the surrounding swamp drew his eyes. Dozens of Sprites, nearly invisible within their meld cloaks, positioned themselves just outside the light of the ring. Viday pushed forward and stepped into the light.

Two-dozen black-garbed Windriders stood in the center of a small clearing within the swamp.  Most had removed their masks and stood with bows drawn or swords raised. Their bodies were tense and their eyes appeared sunken and haggard. Before them, closest to the path, stood Yazir Dubad, leader of the attack force of Borz Windriders.

As Viday entered the light he bowed low, kissing the upturned fingers on his right hand.

“May the wind keep the sands from your eyes,” said Viday Shan as he rose.

Yazir simulated a quick bow, never taking his eyes from Viday.

“And you,” he said abruptly and narrowed his eyes at Viday. “How did you find us?”

“I traveled through the swamp without rest. Your path was easy to follow.”

“Lies,” snapped Sayid moving up beside his cousin and drawing a dagger. He pointed it at the draping moss and confining tangle of the greenery about the clearing. “We couldn’t follow our own path. How could he do so within the darkness of this prison?”

Yazir did not react but stared at Viday through the flickering light of the bonfires. Others within his group edged forward. Their agitation grew.

“Sayid talks sense. This swamp is a maze of confusion for us,” said Yazir.

“Where are the others?” asked Viday Shan, ignoring Sayid’s question. “Little of your force is represented here.”

“I do not trust anything that walks out of the shadows of this swamp,” snapped Sayid glaring at Viday. “Do not tell it anything, Yazir.”

Viday Shan did not react. He stared at Yazir in expectation of an answer. The clan leader of the Dubad considered the question for a moment.

“If you are a demon, then you already know that answer, so I lose nothing through reply.”

“Yazir! It toys with us ...”

“They are gone,” barked Yazir over Sayid’s protest. “A few at first. Then groups. We hardly noticed as the first quarter of our force simply disappeared from the back of our ranks. We were too busy struggling against the swamp to look to our rear. When we did, a few odd stragglers emerged from the darkness. They spoke of ghosts, wisps emerging from the bowels of this foul place. Materializing from the air around them and dragging unconscious Windriders into the depths of the Toxkri.

We thought the stories a form of madness and rushed on, trying to get from this watery maze. However, the swamp refused to let us pass. Trails turned back on themselves. Bogs and quicksand blocked our path. The light shifted and we lost direction. We wandered for hours then they came for us.

We only caught a glimpse. Hanging moss sprang to life. Figures darted from tree to tree. When we sent men to investigate, they found nothing. Members of our party vanished. Our numbers dwindled. Panic increased. Talk of the ghosts grew.”

Yazir shot a withering glare at the grimacing form of Sayid.

“Finally, I called a halt in this clearing. We were nearly upon one another, ready to cut the throat of any who strayed too close. I’ve been trying to determine our next move for hours while fear grows in our bellies.”

Yazir finally broke into a hopeless smile.

“If you are a demon in the form of Viday Shan, please be quick about your business and be done with us. I fear my own men will do as grave damage to one another or worse.”

“I am no demon, Yazir Dubad,” replied Viday. “But I know them.”

“I told you he was in league,” shouted Sayid as his knuckles whitened on his dagger.

“I am in league with no one but my brother and sister Windriders,” stated Viday Shan. “But I am here to tell you what you must do to exit this swamp alive.”

“Go on,” prompted Yazir flatly.

“First, you must know that Rada is dead and I lead the Shan Borz.”

Cries and gasps broke out amongst the Windriders.

“SILENCE!” barked Yazir. His hand shot into the air. “How did this happen?”

“Our assault on the White Palace was thwarted,” continued Viday. “Rada fell as he saved the rest of us from death.”

“A trap?” growled Yazir. “The Counselor was betrayed?”

“The Counselor was the betrayer,” announced Teeg as he stepped from behind a large cypress into the firelight.

“ELVES!” shouted Sayid and his hand snapped forward.

Yazir’s fist moved even faster. He hammered Sayid’s arm and a black dagger fell ineffectually to the ground. The Dubad leader spun on the smaller man.

“You will gather your wits about you, Sayid, or I will send you off into the swamp,” shouted Yazir. “Think! We learned more in the last few minutes than in two days of wandering through this hell of poison.”

The cowering Sayid slunk from his chieftain’s presence. Yazir stood tall and glared at the scattered Windriders.

“To think that I challenged Rada to grant the Dubad total leadership over the attack force. I look at us now and cringe as to what he would think. We shiver and whine, ready to stab the man next to us out of fear. Listen. Learn. We are Borz Windriders. Act as such!”

He turned back toward Viday and Teeg and stepped confidently toward them.

“If you wanted us dead, Lord Elf, you could have accomplished it at anytime in the last few nights,” stated Yazir. “Since that has not happened, and you stand before me with one of my brethren, I assume you set other plans regarding us.”

“I do,” smiled Teeg. “Or at least the people of Sprite do. For in truth they are the true masters of this realm.”

Yazir scanned the darkened swamp.

“They are out there now, watching us?”

“Yes,” replied Viday.

“And what of my warriors?”

“Safe. A bit groggy. But no worse for wear.”

“Why?” asked Yazir. “Why are we not dead? Why do the allies of Amird not remove us from this world? You know we will never side with the Deceiver.”