Chapter Twelve
Hemlock could still hear the enraged creature thrashing about outside the cave entrance as she, Safreon and Gwineval sat on the floor of a dark, natural tunnel. They were all recovering from the battle at the mouth of the cave and the long trek that they had taken prior to that. Merit stood idly beside Hemlock, apparently in full working order again.
"My sabres passed right through that creature without hurting it," Hemlock noted in a low voice.
"It is possessed of an unnatural power," said Safreon darkly.
"Yes, clearly the creature is formed of some magic that even I am not familiar with. My strongest spells only partially affected it," added Gwineval, seeming troubled.
Hemlock turned to Gwineval, "How’s that possible for a Wizard like you to not know this magic?"
"I do not know," Gwineval replied, then added: "though I suspect that Falignus must know of this magic and may be keeping it from the other wizards for some reason."
Hemlock’s eyes registered movement from the interior of the cave and she was on her feet with sabres drawn in an instant. She was only barely conscious of knocking Merit back toward the cave wall as she had drawn weapons.
Safreon and Gwineval were also on guard quickly as the solitary figure of a man strode calmly forth from the pitch black interior of the cave.
As he approached, Hemlock could see that the man was impassive. He seemed dark complexioned, but as he emerged into the light, it became clear that his skin was covered in a chalky blue coating. Hemlock had seen men of this appearance before in the City when she had encountered the outlanders known as Tanna Varrans.
"Stop," said Hemlock.
The man continued to approach until Hemlock stood directly in front of him with her sabre point leveled at his neck.
The man look distracted even as he met Hemlock’s eye.
"What are you doing?" Safreon asked the stranger, "There’s a deadly monster out there. Stay and take refuge."
"Let him go!" intoned a strong, strangely accented voice from deeper in the cave.
A score more figures were now visible emerging from the deep shadows and approaching.
Hemlock kept the first stranger at bay as the others approached.
"You must let him go," instructed the same voice that had spoken from amongst the group, which despite the shadow of the cave, was now visibly composed of both men and women.
"We’ll not let this man walk to his certain death," chided Gwineval.
"Yet that is precisely his intention, and you must not interfere," responded the shadowy figure.
"I intend to interfere," growled Hemlock, eyeing the distracted figure in front of her.
"You think to do good by saving him, yet you would actually be causing him great harm in doing so. He knows that his family will suffer and possibly even die if he does not walk out of this cave right now," responded the distant figure more urgently.
"What is this, some kind of twisted punishment?" replied Safreon indignantly.
"Stand aside now, or bear the deaths of many on your consciences!" cried the man in the shadows, his commanding voice reaching a crescendo.
Outside, the great monster screamed into the cave, and the man in front of Hemlock used that moment of distraction to charge past Hemlock’s blade, knocking it aside.
Hemlock quickly turned her blade aside and hit the man hard in the head with the pommel of her sabre as he ran past her.
The man staggered, but continued to run toward the cave entrance. Hemlock turned to pursue, but a force held her feet in place and she fell to the cave floor awkwardly.
"Magic!" cried Gwineval and he quickly made a two handed motion toward the distant figures and they all scattered as if struck by a great force.
Safreon, his short sword in hand, ran to Hemlock’s side. The magical force that had bound her was gone and she rose to her feet.
Safreon and Hemlock returned their attention to the shadowy group before them, but then a great cry from the beast outside echoed through the cave, followed by an anguished human scream.
"Why?" mouthed Hemlock to Safreon as they all heard the crashing footsteps of the monster receding from the cave mouth and then the all too familiar beat of shadowy wings as the creature took flight.
The group of shadowy figures had reassembled in the cave in the same place where they had stood prior to Gwineval’s attack.
"What was the purpose of that?" cried Safreon.
"A sacrifice," stated the distant man simply, sounding impassive again. "We mourn his passing but our people will be safe now. I apologize for the magic spell, but it seemed like the only way that you would allow our brother to pass."
"He was slaughtered!" gasped Gwineval, slightly winded from his spell casting.
"He has made a great sacrifice for the safety of his people and will be remembered in song," replied the figure.
"Isn’t that great!" muttered Hemlock loudly and sarcastically.
"Why have you come to our lands?" asked the figure, oblivious to Hemlock’s muttering.
Safreon and Gwineval looked to each other, glanced at Hemlock and then Safreon spoke: "We came here inadvertently, and now we seek to return to the City."
"…to the City," mused the figure.
"Yes, the man with the serpentine appearance here is named Gwineval, and he is a member of the Wizard Guild in the City. This is Hemlock and she and I are from the Warrens section of the City."
"And the fourth?" asked the figure.
"Ah yes," added Safreon, "that is a machina named Merit."
"Please approach. Come and sit with us so that we can discuss what has happened." suggested the figure.
After some discussion amongst themselves, Safreon responded for the group: "We will do that."
The four of them walked further into the cave in a state of cautious alert. Safreon and Gwineval both conjured glowing magic which lit the way before them, but little else. This revealed around twenty men and women covered in the blue chalk standing in a large cavern.
"We rarely reveal these hidden places to outsiders," commented the apparent leader, whom they could now clearly see appeared to be middle aged and bore a noticeable scar on his torso. All of the males were clean shaven and had long brown or black hair. They were clothed in well-crafted animal skin garments–the men bare chested and the women’s bosoms supported by small elastic coverings which appeared more functional than decorative and did not seem to be instruments of modesty.
The Tanna Varrans drew out and lit torches, and in their flickering light, a vast cavern complex was revealed, extending as far as the light travelled.
"Come," said the Tanna Varran leader calmly.
The Tanna Varrans began to follow their leader and the four outlanders walked behind them, still cautious.
The air was heavy and still, laden with moisture from the underground streams that flowed through the space. The only noise was their collective footsteps, the occasional murmur of a terse conversation, and the sound of water flowing over rock all around. They stepped over small arteries, and at times forded larger ones as the water flowed in knee deep streams over old and stubborn rock.
After a few minutes, they came to a shallow pool which was roughly round and bordered with a collection of squared off rocks which enclosed the pool.
"I am Tored," stated the leader of the Tanna Varrans, as he motioned to all to sit around the circle. He then motioned to his right: "And this is Taros Ranvok. Taros Ranvok is the son of our King and ruler, Pan Taros."
Taros Ranvok was a youth who appeared to have just crossed into manhood. He was lithe, but muscular, and it appeared that he would one day be as powerfully built as the older Tored beside him.
Hemlock noted, as they all sat in the circle, that the Tanna Varrans had an odd calmness about them. Even in the face of the recent death of their comrade, they seemed unfazed.
"We have few visitors here from the City," stated Tored.
"I unders
tand that this is a bit unusual, but we are on Wizard Guild business," stated Gwineval, talking over Safreon as he had begun to respond.
Hemlock risked a guarded look at Safreon whose features wore a hint of surprise at Gwineval’s improvised statement.
"We are no friends of the Wizard Guild," responded Tored.
"You may not be our friends, but you will be wise to let us proceed with our business," said Gwineval.
Hemlock noted that Safreon was beginning to frown.
"Are you aware that your ‘business’ has cost us the life of our friend whom you just saw exit this cave?"
Gwineval made to respond but then said nothing, turning to Safreon.
"Tored, my friend Gwineval’s account of our reasons for being in your lands did not fully represent certain subtleties of our situation," stated Safreon diplomatically.
Tored nodded and waited for Safreon to continue.
"Gwineval is a member of the Wizard Guild, but we arrived here as a result of a misunderstanding that occurred between some of the wizards, and the three, ah four, of us," Safreon added.
He then continued: "So while Gwineval is a member of the Wizard Guild, it is not clear that his agenda is in alignment with theirs at this time. Basically, we are trying to return to the City in secret. You said that we were responsible for your man’s death – what did you mean by that?"
Tored paused as if considering his response. Then he looked to Taros Ranvok, at his side, more than once before responding.
"You speak well, Safreon, but you attempt to cover for your friend. I sense that even you are unsure of his motives," he stated.
"It is none of your concern," responded Gwineval in a haughty tone.
Tored continued without acknowledging Gwineval. "You four awoke the beast we call ‘Mathi’ from his slumber on the hilltop, is that true?"
"Yes," responded Safreon before Gwineval could; Hemlock felt content to allow Safreon to speak, yet remained wary of a fight.
"Why did you do this?" asked Tored.
"I did so inadvertently as I used the energy from the obelisk on the hilltop to cast a magic spell," said Safreon.
"The Mathi is a creature of the Witch, whose name we utter softly for fear of her wrath," said Tored. "It is a soul eater and a demon. If it had not found a victim soon, then it would have attacked our Town and done great damage. This we would have had to allow per the ancestral laws that govern our lands. Once aroused, this beast hunts until it claims a person’s soul in vengeance. If satisfied immediately, it will limit its revenge to one soul per the ancient law. If not satisfied quickly, it will attack us viciously and take many souls. It will return to the Witch’s Ziggurat and offer the soul or souls it has claimed to her. She will feast on them and look in favor on her minion. We are a peaceful people, and the Witch enjoys our souls the best."
Safreon paled visibly at these words and Hemlock gasped aloud.
"What do you mean by devouring a soul?" Hemlock asked.
Tored turned to her and spoke: "If death is a mystery, then our land sheds some light on that mystery for we see the energy of the dead–their souls–drawn to our hilltops. We believe that some spirits cannot or will not make the journey to the higher planes; as they linger, they are drawn back to the earth and the special spiritual properties of this land."
"They often head for the highest points, the hills, in order to try to take the next step of their journey. Sometimes, they cannot continue and remain trapped there. The weaker spirits often sink back into the valleys.
The Witches have learned to devour the weak spirits and enslave the stronger ones; tempting them with the ultimate reward of flesh gained anew. The Witch devours souls and feeds off of her minions to stay alive and remain powerful. She lives in her Ziggurat to the West, around a score hilltops hence.
The Mathi is a powerful type of demon which she sends to guard her soul trapping Obelisks. The Mathi now has the soul of Bradrun, our brother, and soon the Witch will devour and consume him," spoke Tored gravely.
At that last comment, all of the Tanna Varrans bowed their heads.
"What if we kill this Mathi?" asked Hemlock.
Tored raised his head and gazed at Hemlock. "We have not killed a Mathi since the Witch Wars that occurred prior to the great separation – when our land was sundered from our people."
"You mean when your people and land were bound to the City?" asked Safreon.
"Yes, that same event," stated Tored. "We have lost many of the arts of battle over the years. Combat with a Mathi is forbidden by the ancient laws. Plus these young warriors do not know how to battle a Mathi," he said gesturing toward many of the Tanna Varrans, including Taros Ranvok.
Taros Ranvok looked confident as he replied, "My father does not allow this training, but I venture that with some guidance from you, Tored, that we could kill that Mathi and allow Bradrun the peace of his final rest."
"Train us as well, and we’ll take care of it, since we started this," said Hemlock, standing.
"Please, do not break the circle," said Tored.
Hemlock took her seat under his calm gaze.
Tored then turned to Taros Ranvok. "I cannot do this – it would be against your father’s orders."
Taros Ranvok trembled though he spoke calmly, "Bradrun was deemed high among us and was a great friend to all. He does not deserve to meet his end at the hands of the Witch. These people are responsible for his death because they roused the Mathi. I am not saying to train us to fight it, which my father has forbidden. I am saying to train them to fight and kill it. They can free Bradrun’s spirit. They have volunteered to do so."
Tored nodded as Taros Ranvok completed his plea. "You are wise beyond your years, young Taros Ranvok. There is an opening in your father’s edict and also in the law, which could be interpreted to allow such training to occur without violating the letter of the law. Yet I feel that such training might violate the spirit of his word, if not the letter."
Taros Ranvok responded after a few moments, sounding even more resolute. "Tored, long have you served at my Father’s side and now you serve with me and you honor me by doing so. Never have I used my station to ask you to perform any task or deed. But, on this day, and under these circumstances, I must order you to train these outlanders in our ways. They survived the attack of the Mathi and made it to this cave. They clearly have strength. With the help of your training and technique, I believe that they will kill the Mathi. Bradrun was my friend and I am ordering you to train these warriors and to go with us and lead them to the Mathi."
Hemlock glanced at Safreon and was a little taken aback to see that he looked bewildered. Gwineval appeared to be brooding. Hemlock hoped that Tored would concede and allow them to partially make up for causing the death of Bradrun. She knew that this was a distraction from their goal of returning to the City that they probably didn’t need and couldn’t afford, but a man had died because of them.
"Taros Ranvok, have you considered how the Witch might react if one of her Mathi were slain?" asked Tored after a long, awkward silence.
"They are outlanders. If the Witch presses the matter, then we will tell her that it was aroused and then slain by them. It is just." The young warrior responded.
"Assuming that there is even a parlay, the Witch will likely guess at our involvement," Tored pointed out.
"The Witch’s old laws are unjust and they need to change. I do not fear her any longer. I agree with your views, Tored, that the Witch only gets stronger the longer she is left alone. I do not fear acting against her in this indirect way, as it does not violate the laws or my father’s decrees."
"Your father will think ill of this decision on both of our parts."
"Yet he will understand that Bradrun did not deserve his fate and also he will know that the outlanders are making up for their role in these events."
Upon hearing these remarks, Gwineval stood and started to make a stern comment, but Safreon quic
kly rose and grasped him by the shoulder and guided him back into his seat.
When all was again still, Tored addressed the four: "Do you agree to this course of action: to receive training in our ways of demon slaying and to join us in tracking and slaying the Mathi? Due to the ancient pacts between the Witch and our forefathers, we will not be able to directly help you in this battle."
Hemlock looked to Safreon and nodded.
"We agree," said Safreon simply, with a sigh of resignation.
"Safreon," hissed Gwineval, "this is not our fight. We must return to the City."
"Gwineval, we have accidentally caused the death of their warrior and now he faces a fate worse than death. How can we not act?" said Safreon.
"But we did so in ignorance, and helping them now and diverting from our path may prevent us from returning to the City before Falignus finds us," responded Gwineval.
"Would you compromise your values to return to the City, Gwineval?"
"Isn’t our ultimate cause greater than ourselves?"
"And what cause is that? I believe that I live for a cause, but I have not seen you commit to any cause outside of those that are directed from within that Wizard Tower," Safreon replied.
Hemlock noted with satisfaction that this statement silenced Gwineval.
"We agree," repeated Safreon.
The four outlanders and the Tanna Varrans departed from the circle and proceeded farther into the caverns, which the group learned extended far across the land and offered the quickest and safest form of travel below the hilly, haunted terrain of the upper land.
Hemlock inquired about the Tanna Varran ability to fly, but was told that they could only fly for short distances and had limited capability for magical recharge away from the Town.
Later that day, Tored led the group into a wide cavern of singular beauty. Glowing purple and pink crystalline deposits glistened in the chamber in the form of stalactites and stalagmites. Crystals were also embedded in rich deposits in the floor and ceiling of the cavern.
As Hemlock appreciated the beautiful environment around her, she noticed something moving on the floor, far into the chamber.
Seeming to anticipate her surprise, Taros Ranvok dropped back and spoke to her loudly enough that Safreon and Gwineval were sure to also hear him.
"There are Grimoi in this room – lost souls. Down here, they are slow and easy to evade, but do not meet their gaze for too long lest they bewitch you."
"Why are they down here?" asked Hemlock.
"They are drawn to the beauty of the gems. And they are weak and cannot ascend back to the surface to attempt to escape this realm. They are tired and weak, but still dangerous in their hate."
Hemlock took a closer look at the slow creatures, which littered the central portion of the chamber through which they now walked. The creatures turned toward the Tanna Varrans and the four of them.
Hemlock picked up Merit as the pace quickened.
A few of the Grimoi seemed to focus on Hemlock as she passed near their shimmering, pale forms, inchoate as they crawled and stretched across the floor toward her. They were vaguely humanoid figures, but seemed dreamlike and insubstantial.
"They have such baleful eyes," Hemlock whispered to herself.
Suddenly Hemlock noticed that she had not evaded the nearest Grimoi and was but a few footsteps from its grasp. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned with a start to see Taros Ranvok beside her.
"Do not look into their eyes," he repeated, and from that point onward she was careful not to.
She saw that a Tanna Varran had paired off with each of her band and were similarly guiding Safreon and Gwineval.
Once again, Hemlock berated herself for underestimating the power of the ghosts of the Witch Crags and nearly being ensnared by them. She considered how alien the magic of this realm seemed and how sheltered that she had been living in the familiar confines of the Warrens and the City. She recalled tales of her youth and her life before she came to the City, but her mind quickly returned to her present peril.
After a time, the travelers left the gem filled cavern filled with the strange Grimoi behind them, and entered a tighter complex of labyrinthine and interlocking cave passages. At times they had to crawl through barely man-sized openings, while at other times they could walk up to five abreast.
As they walked, the Tanna Varrans instructed the three Outlander fighters in their ways of battle.
They stopped to camp and Hemlock and Safreon were covered in blue chalk, which Tored explained provided magical resistance to detection by the dead and also protection from fear of the dead. Gwineval glared at Taros Ranvok as he approached with the chalk, and Taros Ranvok paused to consider the lizard–man for a moment before moving on to other tasks without attempting to apply it.
Hemlock learned that Tanna Varran weapons were enchanted with intricate spells which they cast with chanted words. Hemlock, using her ability to attune to magic, saw the spell’s patterns as intricate, yet uniform in focus; she visualized them appearing like ornate and stylized arrows. The Tanna Varran magic existed in an apparent harmony with nature and seemed especially focused on the purity of the birth-death cycle and the natural circle of life which returned every being back to nature.
The group slept for several hours under the watch of Tanna Varran guards. Gwineval still seemed to mistrust the unusual guides, but seemed to fall asleep quickly once he lay down. At least, Hemlock assumed that he slept, for when she glanced over at him his lidless eyes stared back at her, though without recognition.
After another full day of travel, they reached an exit to the surface.
”We will track the Mathi overland from this point,” stated Tored.
”Won’t the Mathi just fly directly to the Witch’s Ziggurat?” Hemlock asked.
“It would cost the Mathi a great deal of power to do that. It will fly from hilltop to hilltop, engorging itself on revitalizing souls at each stop and then resting for a time. Demons are always fighting amongst themselves, and even a creature of great power, like the Mathi, can’t risk entering into the Ziggurat in a state of fatigue without risking assassination by a rival spirit,” Tored said.
Over the next few hours, the group made their way through lightly wooded terrain set amongst distant hilltops.
Hemlock was relieved to be above ground again, although the outdoor landscape of the Witch Crags still felt odd to her after all of her years living in the City.
As they walked along a ridgeline in the morning daylight, they saw a shallow, bowl-like clearing below them within which a large group of animals was gathered. The two-legged beasts were covered in a light blue fur and grazed on bountiful patches of grass. Though their bodies were thick and looked much heavier than a man, they had powerful feathered wings on their backs. Their legs were comparatively thin and bent forward at the knee. Their long necks ended in small, horse–like heads and their mouths were wide. They chewed slowly from side to side, devouring great quantities of tall grasses and weeds.
"What a herd. What are they, Tored?" Safreon asked the native Warrior with whom he seemed to be developing a noticeable camaraderie.
"We call them Bosan, which means the Fathers of the Hills in our tongue. They are great beasts and their spirits resist the evil that plagues our lands. We hunt them and use their bodies for many things. We always mourn their sacrifice when they are slain in order to fill our bellies and supply our craftsmen. Watch as our warriors hunt one of the old fathers. His feathers, bones and sinew will be used to make your battle wings."
Hemlock watched as four hunters fanned out from the Tanna Varran band and approached the herd in groups of two. When they reached a distance of about fifty yards, they rose and bellowed a great singing call into the clearing. The herd of Bosan scattered and took to clumsy and lumbering flight.
In a flash, the Tanna Varran hunters' wings deployed and they sailed into the air in pursuit. They overtook one of the Bosan, a
nd its torso was struck and pierced with their spears. It cried out once and fell with a crash into a small copse of trees. The Hunters descended on the kill as the rest of the band made its way down to the scene to assist in harvesting the meat, feathers, and bones of the beast. Almost every part was put to some use or stored.
When the band made to depart, Hemlock noticed that very little of the carcass remained.
In the next few hours, they picked up the trail of the Mathi.
Tored gave them their final training in the use of the Tanna Varran wings: the strangely crafted backpacks which were familiar to Hemlock since she had used one to penetrate the defenses of the Wizard Tower. Gwineval and Safreon struggled with their use at first, but soon they were able to launch themselves from the ground as high as nine hundred feet. Since they were spell casters, they could replenish the power of their wings on their own, and fly repeatedly or sustain long flights.
Hemlock could not replenish the wings on her own, yet she seemed able to use their innate power very effectively. Her power of magical affinity allowed her to use the wings almost as effectively as if they were an extension of her own body.
The Tanna Varrans were amazed when she erupted almost two thousand feet into the air on a single magical charge and then soared back to Earth in complete and expert control. She knew that if she used the power of the wings wisely, she could fly several times during a battle without a recharge.
Soon after the flight training was complete, the Tanna Varrans prepared to break camp and continue stalking the Mathi. Hemlock approached Gwineval and Safreon, who were both strapping on their Tanna Varran wings in the manner that was used for portage. Merit came up behind Hemlock, whose own wings were already appropriately configured for the upcoming hours of walking.
"Miss Hemlock, will you fight soon?"
Hemlock turned to face Merit and replied: "Yes, in all likelihood we will."
"What if you are killed?"
"That won’t happen – we will kill this Mathi and free the spirit of the warrior, Bradrun."
"Miss Hemlock, do I have a soul?"
Hemlock glanced at Gwineval briefly and then returned her attention to Merit. Gwineval approached.
"Merit, you are a spirit who has been bound to this mechanical form. You are not a machine – in fact you were…are a man," said Gwineval.
Hemlock looked at Gwineval in surprise.
Merit stood perfectly still for several moments and nothing was said. All the while, however, gears and springs were working furiously on his metallic head.
Finally he responded tentatively, "I am a man? But how can a man live in such a form as I inhabit?" Merit asked sounding skeptical.
"Merit, I believe that you are a product of the Seventh Circle of wizards and their experimentation with … forbidden magic. I believe that somehow they transferred your spirit from your mortal form into this mechanical form. I do not know the specifics, for Falignus, and before him, Zaringer, blocked my inquiries. But I have been able to glean enough from conversations and attitudes to feel strongly that this is what happened to you."
Hemlock appeared to be ready to respond, but then stopped short, looking searchingly at Safreon, who had joined the conversation.
"Merit, sometimes men are faced with difficult circumstances. You did not choose this path, yet you find yourself on it. All that a man can do in such circumstances is to try to do his best and to make whatever peace he can with things as they are," Safreon said with kindness in his voice.
Merit looked at Safreon, back to Hemlock, and then back to Safreon. "I…I will have to think about this," he said and shuffled off with his characteristic gait.
"Will he be ok?" asked Hemlock, watching him go.
"Time will tell. It will be difficult for him – especially if he begins to recall memories of his former life. But he now walks the only path open to him and he must deal with it. Check up on him, Hemlock, for he seems to feel a certain bond with you," Safreon said.
"This is another stain on the Seventh Circle and the Wizard Guild. Zaringer betrayed our trust and Falignus follows in his footsteps," muttered Gwineval bitterly.
"Why do the wizards follow Falignus?" asked Hemlock.
"He’s charismatic and he’s smart. And he is principled in certain ways. He is efficient and he works tirelessly for the Guild. Most wizards feel that his positive qualities outweigh his negative ones," Gwineval answered.
"Leadership without compassion will always be flawed," Safreon chided.
"It is a noble notion," responded Gwineval noncommittally.
"Safreon, when will the Griffin arrive? Did the summoning work?" asked Hemlock, changing the subject.
Safreon’s features darkened as he replied: "The Griffin should be able to find me magically once she is within a few miles from our location. Still, I would have expected her to have been here by now. Perhaps she became confused when we were underground and is awaiting another message. We will have to deal with that once we finish this battle with the Mathi."
Safreon’s voice softened and grew distant. We now seem to be part of great events. The Tanna Varrans move against the Witch and we seem to move against the wizards. Great forces are in play now." Safreon’s eyes focused on the peak of a distant hill where they believed the Mathi now rested.
Hemlock noticed that Gwinevalcast his eyes down and looked away.
Taros Ranvok approached the group as they all gazed at the hill.
"The time for battle nears, my friends," he stated.
"We are ready," responded Hemlock.