Chapter 25 – The Heavens Break

Two days later Lithônion arrived at the Southern Falls, with his host of mighty warriors, horses, and Centaurs. The plans had been laid. Lithônion entered the city in a beauty unknown to the men. His radiance made the city seem more dirty and drab. His face looked like fine gold. For miles away his army spread, off the horizon.
Three simple words he uttered and then all was silent as they waited, “We have come.”

So the men prepared their weapons more so than before. Calmar stood in his room looking out over the vastness of the Army. He buckled his belt and put his mail armor over his chest. He put his boots on and put on the arm guards. Then he took his sword, the one with which he had killed the Wolf, and slipped it in his sheath. His mind flashed back to that dreadful night. No one here besides Lithônion was prepared for what would ensue. The entire city hung in a silent chasm. Never had the city been so quiet and ghost-like as now. For everyone including Calmar knew that the city would be demolished like the dust in a wind.

Calanon entered the room, a worried and perplexed look shadowing his face.
“I cannot find Urúvion,” he said shortly. “I have searched the castle grounds and asked throughout the city.”
“Why are you looking for the betrayer?” Calmar asked.
“He is still my brother,” Calanon persisted. “Glandur would have done the same for either of his sons.”
Calmar faced Calanon with a fervent spirit. “Calanon, sometimes we must leave justice up to the Maker. If Urúvion makes it through the battle it will mean that he has been forgiven. If not, he has received the punishment due to him.”
“Yes,” he looked out of the city from the window. “I suppose you are right.”
“Come, we have little time and much to do.”

 

With the women and children out of the town it seemed to have dwindled in size, but one had only to look beyond the city walls and see the great Army spread across the lands.

The Men and Elves had all gathered for one last discussion. They sat around the table, gloom upon the faces of those weak warriors, but to the rest this battle was only the beginning for many of them wanted to leave the Earth behind. Many had seen just such battles and had lived through them, but they all knew this was the End of the Age.

Cedric sat and stared into the fire. Aidan drank from his mug.  Maethorion pondered the meaning of the Battle.

Lithônion spoke, “Do not let you faces be downcast. For beyond this life another awaits. Be warriors now while you have the chance.” The men all heartily agreed and the faces were lifted up.
Calmar contemplated his last good-bye to Nieriel.

“So this is the end,” he said. They looked out over the sea, the same place they had been when she had arrived. She touched his hand and brushed his hair away from his face.
A tear dropped from her eye.
“I will miss you Calmar,” she whispered. She rested her head on his chest and together they stared out to sea imagining a beautiful world without war.

“I have often wished I were not immortal. It is a sad thing to see the ones you love pass but you live forever on, wishing you could die from war. I often envy those in war, for they die from wounds and pain. But I slowly die inside from grief.” She sobbed softly.
“I am blessed to have made it this far with you and if I die I will miss you more when I leave. Do not forget me,” he whispered.
“Never,” she promised.

He softly touched her hair as it blew in the wind. She looked up into his eyes and they smiled, wishing it could last forever.
Slowly Calmar bent down and kissed her gently on the lips as they stood there by the ocean, a part of the sea.
And that was the last time he saw her.

The men all stood and prepared themselves. Then they bid each one a fond farewell and stood in the front lines, awaiting the final battle. Lithônion stood stately and tall upon his white steed shining.
And so an hour passed and nothing happened.

 

And then the earth shattering horrific sound of the Black Wind echoed in the silence.
From over the hill rushed the forces of all of Yamaeus. They shrieked and howled as if calling the men to their death. And there in the front stood Tarole, haggard and misshapen watching the battle rage, the one he had wanted.
Calmar could see the very pits of Hell in their eyes and they were trying to bring the city down with them, but he knew that Lithônion would never be contained in Hell and if He wasn’t going, neither were they.

Calmar looked at Lithônion fighting the evil creatures. All the men were fighting for their lives in the battle. For the first two hours neither side had won or lost and Tarole continued to stand and give orders. All Calmar could see around him were black and bloody hands reaching for him. He felt as if he were being swallowed alive by the force. He looked over and saw Aidan fighting valiantly by his side yelling out insults and profanities.
“Aidan!” he yelled, seeing a creature running upon him from behind. Calmar threw a dagger but it missed and fell useless on the ground. Aidan turned around and saw it but his sword was drawn too late. He fell to the ground beside the dagger, lifeless. Maethorion watched in horror and dark tears ran down his cheek as he fought furiously through the throng trying to reach his brother. But alas it was too late and Maethorion made a sign across his brother’s chest.

Everything became a blur as blood poured out upon the ground and claws dug into anything in reach. Tarole screamed orders for his army as Lithônion calmly fought against them. Everything was out of their hands and with each body that plummeted to the ground they became weaker. It was the wrath that was stored up in the Heavens coming down upon them in a horrific rush. Calmar took a step and slipped in a puddle of blood and went sliding down a hill. For a moment he lost consciousness but when he returned Tarole stood over him laughing hideously. Calmar squinted as he watched death standing over him. Tarole raised his club in the air ready to bring it down upon him when an arrow pierced his skull. A shriek uttered from his mouth as blood dripped out. He fell upon Calmar with such force his eyes went black and he saw no more.

The battle continued on for the rest of day with no breaks and no hope of the end in sight.
Swords clashed with claws and screams went up into the skies. Maethorion continued to fight like a warrior but Calmar could see that his strength was waning and soon he too would collapse from mere exhaustion.

Suddenly the ground rumbled and shook and for a split moment the fighting stopped. Each creature stopped and saw the skies nearly fall to the earth in dark swirls. And out of the darkness crawled the serpent, the Evil One. He slithered upon the ground and slowly he transformed into a creature of such gory proportions that each creature, Man, and Elf turned their sight from him. His appearance was no less than a demon, unleashed from the venom of Hell. He roared into the darkness. Everyone turned except Lithônion, who stared right into his eyes. Between them the dust swirled like hurricanes and yet they stood there as statues hewn from the earth. Silence reigned.

Maethorion gasped as he watched in horror.

He spoke in a strange language,
“Your time has come to die!”

Lithônion looked at him with peace and tranquility.  

“Then do what must be done,” he said back. “You have asked for this price and that price will I grant you.”

The field remained quiet and Maethorion stared blankly.

“You have done a great wrong against the Maker and you will pay with blood,” Lithônion said.
“It will be paid with your blood!” screamed the Creature.
“What the Maker has chosen so shall it be.”

Lithônion stepped down from his horse and came to stand before the Evil One. His very breath made staines upon Lithônion’s cloak.  The skies rumbled above.

The Creature lifted his dagger above his head, breathing heavily upon Lithônion.
“This is the end of the reign of Men and so shall you end!” He brought down his dagger with a violent force penetrating into Lithônion’s head. A scream shuddered the earth and skies opened up in a hurricane sending a violent storm upon the people. A terrifying voice came from it and said things in a strange language but it was beautiful all the same. The ground began to shake and suddenly all the creatures of the Black Wind were pulled, by a force greater than anything in Yamaeus, up into the swirling hurricane. They were eaten in the mighty jaws of a terrestrial Being.  Maethorion looked with awe upon the scene. He turned quickly to aid Lithônion, but it was to late and Lithônion breathed no more. The earth continued to tremble beneath the weight and Maethorion cried upon him for many hours while the Army said their blessings and farewells to him.

Lithônion lay on the ground with a puddle of blood surrounding his head, his chest still and lifeless. Maethorion saw in his mind a darkness like never before. No longer was there evil, but no longer was there beauty.

Soon the warriors began to rejoice over their triumph when they realized that soon, the people from the Lost Hills would return. That thought cheered the men of the Southern Falls more than anything.

Calmar finally awoke from the darkness and realized what had happened. So he hadn’t died after all and the city was still there with castle bearing their flag, but then he saw Lithônion.  Gloom gripped his heart as he watched the Elves gathered around the motionless body. He wiped the dirt from his face and walked slowly over to Maethorion.
“We came through,” Maethorion said, looking up at Calmar.  

“Yes, we did. I almost think we were better off not,” Calmar mourned.

“You will be able to see her again,” Maethorion said.
“Who do you speak of?”
“The woman. The one you so loved.”

Suddenly it struck Calmar the meaning of what Maethorion had said. Ah, yes! Adanessa; the beautiful one, the one he had loved.

Then a shadow passed over him. What would Yamaeus be without a King? What would keep the darkness from covering them again?  

Then they heard a shout from the Men and Calmar heard Cedric utter exclamatory words. They all looked to the East and beheld that most beautiful sight they had ever seen before. There on the hill stood all of the people that had been snatched from them by the Spell. They stood as one people, the victors of the inferno. They stood as warriors come back from the War.

Calmar began to cry for happiness as he watched his mother and Adanessa walk hand in hand to receive him once again in their arms. He began to run to them as if he were a mere child. When they reached each other Adanessa wrapped her arms about him and kissed him.

She seemed different then when she had been taken, but Calmar cared not, for she would be safe and protected here with him. His mother received him with great happiness and the three stood there in the battlefield, afraid of nothing.

It began to rain again. Slowly but then it came harder. Calmar watched as they took Lithônion’s body into the town. It seemed strange to him that it would still be dark if the Evil One was gone? Why was it still dark and gloomy?

The three turned and went into the city, for they were cold and desolate.
Far into the night they talked. Adanessa and his mother cared not to talk of what happened beyond the hills, but Calmar told them of past events. But finally sleep could keep no longer and they slept upon beds of  pure comfort.

For two days the Men and Elves stayed in the City and tried to make sense of what had happened. The people that had left before the battle returned and they feasted once again all together.
Calanon found that Urúvion fell during the battle and he mourned over him.
During the night at exactly *Arya the earth shook and rattled the walls of the castle. The men awoke with a start and gathered arms.

Calmar jumped up. Surely the Evil One was not back? He wondered.
Storm clouds gathered once again above and a torrential rain began. The sky lit up a thousand times brighter than anything they had seen before. Lights flashed and the clouds rolled as the ocean did. The men watching over Lithônion’s body shook in fear, waiting for the next attack. The noise was fearsome. Suddenly a voice echoed from the heavens.

“Wait no longer for your salvation. For it has come.”
Lithônion began to shake and move. A light shined out of his open eyes which filled the small room. His head began to heal, the wounds no longer scarred his face. The transformation was magnificent.

And then all was still.
Lithônion rose with a glorious power from where he had lay dead.
Calmar watched with the other Men as Lithônion climbed his great white steed and rode back into the West.
“So it was Lithônion all along,” Maethorion marveled.

And they all stood on the balcony watching the sun rise over the distant Eastern Hills.

 

*Midnight

Chapter 24 – Breath and Life

The sun was setting with vibrant colors as if it were a painting.  Nieriel walked close to Maethorion. They were a day’s journey ahead of the the Army.  Lithônion ordered them to go ahead and prepare the City for their arrival.
“What will become of the Southern Falls?” She asked. “With forces such as there will be, they stand no chance of survival during the War.”
Maethorion looked at the green grass blowing softly beneath their feet. His hands suddenly tightened. “I am not certain of their fate. If we can get there fast enough we will tell all the women and children to run as far as possible. As soon as Lithônion arrives it will begin. We have a short time before they arrive.”

Nieriel shivered despite the sun.
“Tomorrow we arrive, but what shall we say? Who is the sacrifice?”

“They need not know such things as it has nothing to do with the Southern Falls. But we must make sure that innocent blood is not shed. There are many in the City who are unaware of the grave danger that awaits them.”

The next morning they saw in the distance the flags of the Southern Falls waving in the distance, a beacon of hope within the land.
“At least their flag is still waving,” Aidan shouted. “I will be glad to sleep on a bed tonight, although nature has not been too hard on us.” He picked some daisies and put them in Nieriel’s hair.
“Beautiful!” he stood back to admire the work of art.

When the townspeople saw the return of Maethorion they shouted great thanks to the Maker and went to greet them. Alastair went also to meet those whom he had heard so much of. Calmar knew there was no time to prepare a feast for the battle would soon start and there was little time.

That night the men gathered round the ale and began talking within themselves. Nieriel took Alastair to her room and read to him a beautiful book she had brought from her home far away North. He loved the book and asked her to read it over and over to him. But even from her room she could hear the worried tones of the men in the hall and she knew the gravity of the situation.

“We have only tomorrow before Lithônion arrives. We must send the women, children, and older people of the town South to Bluehaven. It will take many days but by tomorrow eve they will be far enough from here,” Maethorion began.

“But we have lost contact with the Black Wind and have no way to know from which direction they come. We are vulnerable for far too long and they have used that time to their advantage. When the fighting begins the people will run in all directions, praying to the Maker to save their souls. They will be frightened more than anything and there will be no hope for them. If we can avoid that, we will be able to save many more,” Calmar answered.

Aidan, Cedric, Calanon, and Rainion sat near listening to the conversation.
“But if we do not know where the enemy comes from how will we protect our people?” Maethorion replied.
The answer came in short, “There isn’t a way.” Calmar looked at the doubtful faces. “But Maethorion’s suggestion was the best and will perhaps save lives.”

They decided that the next day they would pack up and send the women and children South with some of Maethorion’s men.

The night wore on as they prepared their weapons and began the restless wait for the next day.

_________________________________________________________________

Tarole smiled slyly at the city. The next day the heavens would break open with a flood of fighting. Nothing would stop them now. Adrian had returned from their journey South and had brought valuable captives from Nightsedge. His bloodthirsty army were ready. Adrian stood by Tarole’s side.

“The Dark One has worked well. He is prepared and we will begin.” And so they sat in wait watching the city from the East.

Chapter 23 – Beyond Good And Evil

Rainion traversed far into the woods. His mind played tricks with him, tantalizing him into turning the wrong way. The boy clung to him as they walked. The wind blew through the trees in a mournful song. His knees were numb as were his eyes from the tears he had cried. There seemed to him no reason to keep living in this world of sorrow. Life had asked from him more than he could give and now it seemed that he could not continue. The boy held still to his hand, but Rainion kept trying to shake his small fingers from his. Attachment only meant grief.  

The night grew yet darker but no campfire could be lit without being seen. For he had seen in the land around signs that the Evil Ones were also trying to reach the Isles of Gloom. He was not safe until he was dead. Together he and the boy stared up into the sky, each seeing visions of those they loved most.

The boy yearned for someone to take the place that his mother had left. Someone to care for him and to love him. He had felt a beautiful feeling when the woman had loved him, but it lasted for far too short. Now he was alone again. The man never spoke to him except to tell him to be quiet or stop being restless. He traced the sign of the North Star in the dirt, the one he and his mother had always looked for, before she left. He looked over at the man lying beside him, sleeping fitfully. If this was how life was, he wanted nothing to do with it. The feeling he felt at that moment was more than a boy his age could bear.

 

Rainion looked through slitted eyes at the boy. He lay there so still and so peaceful. What horrific thoughts raged through his mind? His life was no doubt one of betrayal and loneliness. Rainion wanted so badly to love that soul, to treat him as his own. But he couldn’t bring himself to love anyone with such a love when it could be so easily snatched from him. What small token of love could he give this small child, so feeble and frail and yet such a warrior? His anguished thoughts turned feverishly in his mind. How could he be so unkind to such a delicate creature? But he feared that if he left his heart vulnerable as he had with Meltoriel he would break under the weight of loss.

He turned the other way, unable to keep thinking about it.

Tomorrow they would have to cross two rivers and arrive at Port Llast from the West and then they would  be in the Isles of Gloom. From there they would begin to travel around and gather troops to come back to the Southern Falls. Unless, he thought, the Black Wind had already arrived and taken them all captive. We will have to travel with speed and stealth.

His mind went black with sleep and he slept through the night.

 

The birds chirped a sad song in the morning that woke the two sleepers. The sun shone through the clouds weakly, though they both knew it would hide again in a few moments.

“Alastair, we will be walking very far today. When you are tired, I will carry you but we must remain quiet, for there are many dangers in this forest.” Fond memories relapsed in Rainion’s mind as he recalled this name. Alastair looked up in his eyes. He smiled fondly and took hold of his hand.

For the whole day they traveled and after crossing the river in a boat they had made from logs, they made it finally into the Isles of Gloom. The day was done and the light was fading so Rainion made camp without a fire and laid Alastair down to sleep. He stayed up and watched the trees sway. Bugs flew around his face and buzzed in his ears. The Bog had begun to show its power. The night was filled with the humming of tiny bugs and snakes and other things that loved the mire.

Finally Rainion could keep his eyes open no longer.

 

The day proved hotter than either of the travelers had experienced. Nowhere in Yamaeus did it get to the temperatures that it did there. The paths through the forest sizzled in the heat and left each sweating drops of perspiration on their brow. The sun did not shine but the heat penetrated through the earth. Alastair began to breathe heavily and Rainion looked at him with worried glances. This was not an easy trek, but he knew that when they returned to the Southern Falls the women would all pamper Alastair with all they had to give. They came to the first small town. It was nothing beautiful but it was a relief to see that there still remained something. They approached it with caution. The town was comprised of several houses constructed of woody vines from the Bog. The people had planted flowers in the front of their houses but not many had budded any flowers. Alastair pointed suddenly to a group of women hanging clothes on their line. Rainion hurried his speed and came presently to speak with them. The women seemed the only people in the town but upon further questioning Rainion found that the men had all left to work in the Bog cutting wood for their homes. But from the number of women Rainion realized that there would not be many men of which to form an army. When the women saw the young boy they offered him what small thing they had. And so he had an apple and other nuts and fruits and a small doll with which to cuddle with at night.

And so they left the the first town.

This is what continued to happen in the other towns and soon Rainion gave the journey up for useless, until they came to a larger town than the first. It had a wall built around it and was at the South end of the Isles. The town was busy and people crowded the streets. Rainion entered holding Alastair close to him.

At the center of the town stood a wooden building much like the others but Rainion could tell from the construction of the building that it was the center of all business. He entered and found himself in a cool interior filled with men all talking at the same time. There were tables all over and jugs of beer were being handed out.

After finding the Master of the town Rainion relayed to him the reason for his journey. The Master agreed with him on all matters and promptly sent word to all the other towns asking them to send their men equipped with weapons and ready for war.

They continued to talk far into the night and the women took Alastair to a room above the Inn to sleep.
So they returned to the topic of war.

The Master, Cedric, seemed to know much of war and the triumphs past. They talked long into the night about his history in battles far away.

“A week ago we heard of what happened in Nightsedge. It was a terrible loss. Our people became panicked and afraid. Rainion, you have seen nothing until you see a whole city in a panic. It is a frightful thing. But our men were ready to fight, ready for revenge.” Cedric took a gulp of ale and wiped his stubble covered chin with the back of his hand. He was a big man, with muscles bulging from his arm. He had scars and tattoos on his face. He seemed a battle-ready man. His hair was dark brown streaked with gray. His hands were so big they enveloped the glass of ale.

Rainion cringed when Cedric had said he hadn’t seen anything. Had Cedric ever seen someone he loved with his entire being die at the hand of the Black Wind? No, it was Cedric that hadn’t seen anything.

So throughout the next few days, preparations were made and the army was ready to return to the Southern Falls by the route that Rainion and Meltoriel had taken.

Altogether, it took five days to return to the Southern Falls.

When they returned Calmar met them with a feast and for one night happiness spread itself over them. Toasts were made to the warriors in their midst and great stories were told over the banquet table. Alastair was taken in by the women of the city and cared generously for.

But as the festivities continued Rainion felt all the more alone.  While everyone shared their excitement Rainion sat alone in his sorrow.

 

When the feast was over and the men had left their separate ways to the various Inns of the city, Calmar met with Rainion in the room outside the banquet hall. They could hear the cooks cleaning the tables, preparing it for the next banquet feast.

“I heard of your grieving news. I’m sorry for your loss. Meltoriel was very dear to me as she must have been even more so to you. We all have lost things that were dear to us.” They looked at each other through the dimness of the room. “I’m glad you survived and are able to come be comforted, for you are also dear to the people of the town.”
Rainion looked down through tear covered eyes.
“I find no comfort here,” he said.  “Everything here reminds me of her. I have to leave.”

Calmar got up and paced the room. “Why must you leave before the battle? Did you not tell her you would fight? A coward does not run from war or sorrow!”

“Calmar, those days are behind me. There is no more her,” he said emphatically.  

Calmar stared at him intently, studying his face. “I’m sorry you feel that way, because when sorrow hits a strong man he does not buckle beneath the weight, he takes it on and fights beneath it until it is gone. I also have lost someone dear to me but I still must be King, and so I live each day with hope of a new future and the memories that I still hold so dear.”
Rainion stood up and shook Calmar’s shoulders. “There are more things to life than fame. Is not love anything to you?”
Calmar grabbed him and pushed to the chair. “Rainion, you do not understand what I am saying! Your head is too full of sadness and revenge that you cannot think straight. Love is perhaps the most important thing in life, but it is here to make our life better, not ruin it. If our love for someone makes us regret living, then we are good as dead. Our lives are beyond our grasp, so take each step that is laid before you and be thankful for the time you had with loved ones.” His eyes softened with tears and watched the young face of Rainion stare into his.

Nothing was right, nothing was fair, and yet life had to be lived.

Rainion rested his head in his palms and sighed loudly.
“You’re right. I was wrong to give up. We have a battle on our hands!” he exclaimed.

He got up with a start and began to walk away.
“I am with you in my spirit,” Calmar called after him.

Chapter 22 – Land Of Shadow

The land was covered in murky shadows and the wind blew like a lonely whistle over the land. Calmar stared over the expanse and watched as breath turned into vapor and whirled around his head. A shadow began to pass into his head. Nothing was changing and he knew soon his land would become nothing more than a darkness of the past.

He replayed the past years in his mind.

His one love was gone into the Hills, perhaps never to return to life again. Maethorion and his band of men along with Nieriel had left to go to the King of the West and help there was not even guaranteed. Perhaps a respite from the wrath of the Evil One was not going to happen. And Rainion and Meltoriel had left for the Isles of Doom. Glandur had died and they had a traitor in their midst. And here he was destined to a life of desolation. Was there nothing he could do to fight the growing darkness? And what of father? He pondered. His hands rested on the intricate pattern of the balcony. The hands which had once held beauty and had shaken as he killed the Wolf. Now they laid there, strong and firm and yet seemingly useless. He turned and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. Someone moved in the courtyard and emerged from the shadows.
“It’s your father,” he said hurriedly. Calmar ran quickly to his father’s room.
“What is it father?” He asked, though he was certain of the answer.
“It is time son for me to leave. My breath is leaving and the life which once filled my breast is certain to leave soon. This darkness has taken me sooner than I expected, but son, there are many things I wanted to tell you.” He held out his hand for Calmar to take. “I have been a poor father. For too long have I left you on your own. You carried a weight on your shoulders that no human should have had to bear. And yet you took the responsibility and worked well under it. Never has a father been more proud of his son. You have held up under great odds and come though a victor. There is nothing more that I can say my son. Please accept this verbal gratitude, for I have already given you my kingdom, though it is a small gift. I hope that someday you will be a father far better than I.” He smiled up into his son’s eyes, sparkling with tears.

“Father, you have been a friend though my life and I could never have been happier. You taught me how to be brave and how to see beauty in the unlovely. And though the Spell has taken many years that should have been spent together, I will never forget the time we did have together.” His tear splashed upon his father’s hand.

His father’s breath became more labored and a darkness settled behind his eyes. Calmar II reached around his neck and pulled off a necklace which had been hidden by his tunic for years, yet it sparkled in beauty. Calmar gasped in exclamation.
“Son, this was your mother’s necklace. I have little use for it now. Take it and treasure it until you pass.” He kissed it and then fastened it around his son’s neck. For a moment his memory traveled back to the day his wife had given it to him. It was a beautiful day and their love for each other was burning more than the sun that shone upon them. It was shortly before Calmar III was born. She had held his hand and said softly to him, “I couldn’t be happier if I was the richest woman on Earth. The best day of my life was when I first kissed you.” She laughed then in a beautiful and flowing way.

He jerked back to present. He heard Calmar asking him questions. “Are you alright Father?” he asked.

“Yes son, I’m perfect. I am leaving this world behind and will spend eternity in a far better place. Do not ask me that question. It is you that I am worried about, but I know better than anyone that you will make it through and will join me one day far more deserving of the place that we are going than I am. I have one last thing to say.” He stared up into the sad brown eyes. “Live with courage, love in fervent, and remember your God. These are the rules for every warrior great and small. Live by these and life will bless you. Now go and rule wisely over your kingdom.”

Calmar bent over and kissed him on the cheek. He watched as his father slowly let go of life and became a part of history. Calmar II was gone but would be remembered by his descendants.

Carefully Calmar laid the blanket over his father’s dead body with tears cascading down his cheeks. He had held back these tears too long and now he could not stop them. They were the tears of sorrow, revenge, love.

He turned slowly from the bed and willfully walked from the room. He must rule his kingdom as his father had said. These were a people who needed a ruler and he was the one who would guide them.

 

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The hours passed and went and still no one knew what should be done with the traitor in their midst. Calmar and Calanon both spent their days in grief of their own, but they could not mourn forever. Urúvion continued on acting as if he lamented over his father’s death. But they knew it was he that slay his father in his sleep, a sin worth nothing short of death. But Calanon could not bring himself to accuse Urúvion and so he sought help and advice from Calmar. How could a brother fight against his brother, his own blood and flesh?
Calmar and Calanon stood upon the turret of the Fortress speaking softly. Calanon seemed different and had lost his charm of the past. Being forced to make choices such as stood before him it required a great strength from him.
“I do not understand why he would have done this evil,” Calanon murmured. “Glandur the Great never overlooks his descendants and if Urúvion had simply talked to him he would have found a remedy for his ill feelings.” The sky filled over with darkness and rain began to fall. But neither of them moved, for they had become a part of the storm that raged.
“Calanon, there are many things in life which cannot be explained and which we will never understand. Sometimes we must fight with what we have and leave the rest up to the Maker. For not all evils are directed to us and we simply witness them. You must face Urúvion knowing that he is your brother. There is nothing you can do to change that.” He touched Calanon on the shoulder. “We can only remain strong in the storm and let it not push you over.”
Calanon looked at Calmar in the eyes, watching the rage and sorrow in them meld and create a hurricane of emotions.
“Glandur was a great man of stature and more than that he was my father and my friend. Never was anyone more close than him to me. We shared heartache and sorrow and joy together. To think that Urúvion valued that for nothing makes me angry beyond knowledge. No one realizes that Elves get angry. Everyone thinks we see this torture and murder and we think calmly of a way to overcome it, but sometimes that does not work and we must come out of it and become one with the revenge we are feeling. Is there nothing I can do now?”
Calmar’s lips trembled with grief,  “I too seek revenge, but we must wait for Maethorion to return or else it will add the already violent storm awaiting us.”

They turned and were lost to darkness of the Fortress walls.

Updated Video for the Spell Of The Winterwolf

So here is the finished version of my promo video. Check it out and see what you think ; )

The Spell Of The Winterwolf Video

I also made this video to promote my novel. It’s not the best, but I’m working on another one. So here is this in the meantime.

Yameaus Map

So as you know, this novel takes place in an imaginary world called Yameaus. And I’ve gone through so many maps trying to paint just the right picture. I’m still not happy with this, but it will do until I can find someone who wants to draw it for me. This story has plunged me into an entirely different world and my mission through writing it is to share that with everyone that reads it. I want them to be able to escape into the world of heroes and villains.
So here is a map for you to look at while reading the story. I hope it helps and I hope that by writing this I have been able to create a story so captivating that it will draw you in whenever you read it. Of course I don’t expect it to be a best seller novel, but I want to make a difference through my writing to those I love. Here is the link to my writing blog so that you can follow it and get updates whenever I write something new. An Author For Life. And I’m sorry I haven’t been updating this blog for awhile, but my novel is currently undergoing the editing stage and will hopefully be published someday.
But I want you to know what joy and inspiration this has brought to me to write. So even if it doesn’t get published at least I was able to enjoy writing it and sharing it with all of you.
I always say that being popular doesn’t make you great. But rather changing the lives of those around you. So that’s what I want to do.
To read a story about evil being overcome gives us strength in this life to overcome the darkness that finds its way into our lives.
So I say, keep fighting, keep being free… because we all deserve to be heard.
Enjoy,
Megan

Changes

I have made some changes and have created a new blog for all my other writings. Here is the link, visit it and enjoy!

An Author For Life

 

 

 

Chapter 21 ~ A Darkness Beyond Knowledge

For years an evil greater than the knowledge of men lay beneath the Earth, seeping through the quakes in the ground, and now was the age of the Demons, summoned by the power the Dark One. Through this one shapeshifter, all the dark armies of the world were united for one cause and one only, the ruin and desecration of the races of the Earth. The spell of the Winterwolf was only a temporary pause in the glory of men, but now was their final hour. This time the Dark One would bind the world in darkness and send his wicked helper Tarole to search the Eastern Mountains for any living creature. Lithônion, however, had the power to stop the curse of the Winterwolf, but the Armies of the Dark would already be gathered and blood would have to be spilt.
Tarole stared at the ancient writings in his bloody grasp. The writ began to change and Tarole saw in astonishment that the spell had been changed. No longer would the spell be broken by spilling the blood of Tarole or the Dark One, but it would be broken if Lithônion spoke the words of the Maker and sent it back into darkness. But so also, the Dark One would suffer loss and extinction as the Armies of the Maker were brought forth. The only thing they could do was brace themselves for the fight and continue killing anyone that got in their way. It was up to the Maker about the ultimate sacrifice that would pay for the transgressions of His people.
Tarole let out a relieved lisp as he realized his life would not offer ransom for the first sin. Someone else would have to die on the Dark One’s account.
He chuckled to himself. There can be no defeating the Dark One, he thought to himself. His armies were greater than anything Tarole had ever seen, and from all over the earth his servants were hidden, doing the bidding of the demon. There had been whispers of the Maker within the camps, but everyone thought that His power would easily be overtaken by the darkness. Surely someone so great and full of light could not survive in such darkness, he murmured.
“Oh, but he could,” someone whispered in the darkness behind him. Tarole turned and saw the Dark One slithering around the room of the ruins.
“I was summoned by someone here, was it you?” he asked.
“Yes, your majesty. It was I,” Tarole whispered. “I have seen that the spell is changing. What has the Maker done? Perhaps we will not be able to defeat His power any longer.”
“Why have such doubts entered your mind? Don’t you realize?” He seethed through his fangs and his eyes turned red. “We want this! We want to draw out all His forces. We want Him to realize His beauty is nothing compared to our numbers.”
Tarole looked at him doubtfully. “What if His power is greater though?” He questioned.
The Dark One hissed. “How could someone who created the Earth and yet could not control the fate of Man, be more powerful than the ever growing darkness in this world? Yes, He will send His helper Lithônion, but his power will last for only a time and then they will be out of soldiers to fight this war. We will squelch His beauty in our grasp until His people turn to Him in vain hope, waiting for the day when He will save them. But,” he paused. “He will not come.”
He turned towards the door of the castle ruins, “The Age of the Maker is over, now it is our turn.”

“But the old conditions of the spell have been repealed, what now?” Tarole asked.
“We will only seek now to destroy the human race. It is all that is left to do. I had put the spell on them that they might have a chance to live; to live as one of us, but they have fought so rashly against it that it is too late.” The Evil One slinked back into the shadows of the room. “Call forth your legions that we may end this before Lithônion arrives.” Then he was gone.

Tarole turned to the book that he had been reading and slammed it shut. They had many miles to go before they reached the Southern Falls, and time was of the essence if they were to beat Lithônion to it.
He screamed down the hallways, waiting for the reply of the creatures.
Someone called back down the hall towards him.
“Yes, your majesty,” it screeched. “We are ready.”
“What are your numbers?” Tarole asked.
“We are few compared to what we were before. Little of us survived the first battle of the Southern Falls.”
Tarole paced across the courtyard ruins. He wrung his claws in despair. The bloody drops of carcass remains dripped from his mouth.
“Those men will pay for this!” he yelled. He bent on his knees and screamed into the sky, sending shivers down the horizon. “Call the Master back and tell him what has happened. He surely will have backup for us.”
“Yes, your majesty,” it murmured and scurried away.
Slowly a mist began to develop until Tarole could not see the room in front of him. Then suddenly the Master slunk back into his view.
“You have summoned me once again. What is it?” he hissed.
“Well,” he fidgeted with his claws. “We have a very small number of fighting creatures. We will need more if we are to survive. I have sent many down to the Isles of Gloom before some of those nasty men get help from those living there. Now we have very few.”
“You are a poor leader,” the Master spit. “When this is over, your life will be too. I will summon them,” he said. “Wait.”

He disappeared from the room.

It was dark and murky in the Swamp and the trees groaned as once again the Evil One entered. He silently transformed into a man, with the likeness of hands and feet. His hair was disheveled and dirty and his teeth were almost black. The sign of the Evil One was engraved on his arm. Slowly he looked upward and began chanting,
“Come forth you legions of the earth and finish what the Maker has begun. For soon He will come to ruin and we will rule the world in our darkness.” He began to shout loudly and the sky formed a funnel, letting shafts of bitter darkness down to the earth. The ground began to shake and dust sprung up from the grass. Water swirled around the tree trunks as they let out frightened gasps of horror.
“Come forth and do your bidding!”

As the earth began to move and shake, the legions sprung from the water. Thousands upon thousands sprung up from the depths and left their bloody footprints in the mud. For miles around you could hear the giant steps of the horde, leaving their underground abode to fight for darkness and evil. It was the sound of those wanting only death and misery. It was the sound of those following a leader who had betrayed mankind, leaving only a legend of the 3rd Age. And as each creature left an imprint of evil on the earth, so was Lithônion and his host of glorious warriors leaving their footprints of peace and justice for a world hidden in lost dreams and transformed minds.
As the earth reclosed again the Master folded his hands and smiled. This was his final masterpiece.

And Tarole stared out over the horizon and watched as it was blocked by the swarm of creatures, ready at his command.
It was like a beautiful masterpiece of darkness and lies, which ended only in death.

This was the 3rd Age.

Chapter 20 ~ Awakening

The camp-fire burned and snapped as the camp sat around silently.

“You seem to have grown quieter, Nieriel,” Maethorion said softly to her.
“I just am not sure where this journey is taking us and I’m afraid something bad will happen with my father.” She looked into the fire. “I’m afraid I have disgraced his name.”
“Nieriel, rest your mind! There is nothing to be ashamed of. Your father is very fortunate to have such a noble heir.”
She looked up into his fiery blue eyes and smiled.
“Yes, you are right. This will make me age very quickly indeed, if that is possible.” She laughed. Silence began to bind the company. Then someone said something, coming out of the woods.
“Why are we all so sober?” Aidan asked. “It might just as well be a funeral procession to Lithônion instead of what it is!”
“Aidan! It is past the eventide and the men are tired. Perhaps you should rest,” Maethorion said.
“Yes I suppose I should. But how can you let sleep take you while on such a perilous journey?” He winked. Later in the night Maethorion woke to find Aidan standing beyond the outskirts of the camp. He stood with his back to them, staring out into the vast expanse. He had a yearning deep within his heart to settle down and have a home. To be loved by someone and to have a place in the world, instead of a wandering sojourner. Maethorion laid back down and watched as Aidan slowly walked through the trees. He would be back, he knew. Something kept him here, for he would not have ordinarily stayed with the company this long. He looked over at the sleeping woman. Yes, it was her.

The morning dawned darker than the yestermorn. The spirits of the men were beginning to lose hope and the fondness for home and hearth had gotten the better of them. It had been several days since they left. Was it too late? They questioned daily. But Aidan tried to cheer the men on, which proved to be very difficult. They continued walking each day, hoping the next would bring them to their destination.

Maethorion took out the map and studied it carefully, looking at the terrain that laid ahead of them, hoping that they would be able to reach Him before time ran out.

“Do you think that there is hope in this mission?” Nieriel asked quietly to Maethorion.
He paused looking at the sun peeking from behind the dark and ominous clouds, a sign perhaps of the hope that was being given to them from afar off.

“I have taken many risks in my life, and this one has by far been the biggest, but with the hope that I hold in my heart and the sun to cheer me on, I believe we can do this and more than that, I believe it will help.”

The wind blew across the plain, urging the travelers on, whispering a worried and yet confident note in the ears of the wearied. The sun bounced off the emerald grass like glass in the courts of the King. It was a noble and beautiful land, bearing the fruit of long labor of men from the 3rd Ages.
Nieriel watched as Aidan walked calming through the lush grass, picking pieces off as if they were a part of his heart. He whispered softly to himself, lulling the doubts that were surely rising behind that confident exterior. She knew that Lithônion seemed frightening to many races and He seemed equally strange and mysterious to her, and yet something pulled her to see Him once again as she had long ago.

She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Things will look up when this is over. Darkness and doubt have no place here and they will soon be chased off by the beauty and hope we hold deep within our hearts. Fear not, for morning will dawn.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked on into the sunset.

Suddenly they felt something on their faces. It felt cool and wet. Nieriel laughed gently and realizing where they were, Maethorion motioned for them to stop. They had come to the Western Sea, the end of the world they knew so well. But for Nieriel, the sea had always been her home and it was where she felt safest.
“We have come at last to the Western Sea!” She called raising her hands in the air. “We have made it thus far, and farther shall we go until we reach the Island of the Living, for a glorious place is that.” Tears fell from her eyelids and a great happiness spread throughout them. The sun reflected off their bright and shining faces, a desire of beauty and peace.

They quickly made boats out of the trees along the beach farther North and Nieriel waded into the bright blue water of the Western Sea. It was forever her home, and place of solitude and splendour.
“Here we shall leave all sorrow that has held us back and join the ranks of the glorious, standing for the hope that has carried us here, and pleading for the cause  of those we love most and dearly. Come now, lose not your valor for this is but the beginning of our journey and many nights lay before us.” She motioned with her fair hands for them to continue on into the East, leaving sorrow and sadness behind them while it could still be forgotten.

“The only way for us to overcome darkness is to bring the Light into it, and that is why we have come at last to that fair place beyond the Sea where hope and peace will find us.”

Hearts turned toward the hope that was left and Aidan sat staring into space. A hush fell over the group and a peace enveloped them.

For days they rowed in hope of finding that peace, but it seemed all a loss. Meltoriel held her promise of quiet rest and peace within the land deeply and breathed her life on finding it. But the others began to lose hope and all sight of land. Soon they began to drift through a bog, filled with ghastly and unnatural trees growing around them, clouding out the sun. The evil seeped in around them and the pestilence grew unbearable. The trees creaked with an overwhelming hopelessness. The small group rowed quietly through trying to settle the troubled chaos in their minds. An unsettling sickness dwelled deep in the roots of the Ash and Elm trees, and they recalled to memory the ancient stories of Mashya and Mashyane, the trunk of a tree separated creating a male and female, who then brought forth the human race. But that was for those who believed in those ancient riddles and myths, for most believed in the true story of the Tree Of Life, brought forth from before the Land was created, filled with magic and beauty for the world to see and rejoice, looking to the sky for their hope. But there were yet consequences if the people chose to touch or eat from the at tree, for when they did, darkness would cover the earth and never again would beauty reign as it had that glorious day. For from then on the Maker hid the  Tree of Life from the sight of men until the day when darkness would be banned from the Earth, and perhaps, some thought it would be hidden in one of the darkest forests, waiting to burst through the web of shadows and He would cast its light on the lost World.

Something creaked deep within the forested swamp and they sat still, holding their breath deep within their breast. A winding fog billowed down upon them, curving through the trees, winding its way to their feet. A voice whispered in the dark sending echoes off the trees. The trees shivered as the mist softly touched the edges of their branches and crept its way along the murky paths.
“Why O men, have you come?” It whispered softly and pretentiously. “You have come so far, I would hate to have it end here.”
“It is not our friend,” Aidan whispered. Maethorion looked at him and nodded.

“Who are you Dark One?” Meltoriel asked.
“I am legions and I have come to claim my prize!” it screeched. “Nothing will get in my way. If you have forgotten, it was I who tempted the first Men to taste of that glorious tree. It is I who have changed Tarole’s mind and it is I who will stop this mission to find light. Light is no more!”

.Maethorion shuddered at the sudden blast of foul and hideous breath. Darkness had suddenly encompassed them and there was no escape. He touched his sword and breathed a prayer into the abyss. A sudden cloud of smoke went up and blocked their view. The Dark One came back in front of them.
“No not utter prayers in front of me!” He shrieked. “He has met His death and it is in this Age that I will put an end to the senseless utterances of His people. For too long have I been banished from His kingdom and I will no longer!” He wrapped his long slimy body around a tree branch, making it cringe from such a creature. “Ever since the Maker made this world, He put boundaries on it which no man can keep and for too long He expected us to come in full reverence of His rules. Yes, I was once like you, a human with feelings, but when I ate from that tree He was filled with vengeance and banned me from the land of the living, turning me into this! This pitiful creature, everyone said. Well, now I will prove my worth and when I am done, I will be the only one here! After He hid the Tree of Life from us, He sent Lithônion to keep over the country, that is when I had enough of  the secrecy. I decided to create an army and an alliance so powerful, nothing could stop it.” He stared out over the bog, a sad anger in his face. “I have armies in the North so powerful they could pluck up the Southern Falls as they were a piece of fish, and they will come down out of the North one day, when the army I already have is done with this country. Lithônion will not be able to help, and I doubt that He will have anything to do with this wretched land. I will not leave until there is no human left on this world.” He hissed in Maethorion’s ear.

Aidan quietly grabbed his sword in one hand, and a knife with the other. Suddenly the creature looked fiercely at them and vanished in a mist, leaving them alone and unsure.
“He must have been summoned to some other place where he will work his evil,” Maethorion whispered.
“He does not know the power Lithônion holds. Fear will strike his heart until he dies and then he will be buried in the smoke and ashes which he has rendered for himself.”
“But Maethorion,” Aidan pursued, “We will be between the two most powerful armies in the world! There is no way possible that we will come out alive.”
“Then if that is the case, we will die leaving a legacy of honor and hope for the generations after and we will die knowing we did all that we possibly could,” he answered looking sadly at Aidan. They continued rowing through the bog, leaving ripples of sadness behind them. For two days they rowed through the swamp with no sight of the sun or the end of it. But still they clung to hope. On the third day they emerged from the marsh and saw that they had reached Lafa Anore, the Western town in Yameaus. The town was silent and sat down in a valley. Nothing moved and no noise came from the town. A mysterious smell arose and they immediately recognized it as the smell of burning carcuses. Nieriel cringed and covered her eyes from the sight. Men were lying naked and burned upon the ground and smoke rose from the houses. The town had been sacked and every valuable piece of gold aptly removed. It was a town of  lost dreams.
“Come, we need not look closely, we know who’s work this is. But it will not last long, for we will receive help.” Maethorion pulled Nieriel from the ashes and took her with him to the sea. The port also was ruined and no boats were to be seen. Maethorion motioned for the men to bring the boats to the bay so that Nieriel could sit, for her grief was much and her body began to shake.

They began their journey into the West, into the sunset. The farther West they traveled the brighter the sun became, and Nieriel reminded them that her father had been given eternal light from the Maker. The night closed in and they slept quietly as the men rowed with much speed.

The morning dawned bright and clear and Nieriel woke with a start, not used to waking to light. They all turned and stared West as Lithônion’s City loomed in the distance threatening to block the horizon. It was so painfully beautiful that they blinked in surprise. Nieriel gasped as they came closer and she grasped Maethorion’s hand.
As they approached they could hear the singing of great creatures, singing to Lithônion. As they advanced towards the Great Gate, they bowed their head in obedience to the Law of the land. Two Elves in shining clothes reached down to help draw them out of the boats.
“You are very tired,” said one.
“You will need to rest before anything else,” said the other. They led them up the stairs of gold to a courtyard built with extreme care and beauty.
Maethorion glanced at Nieriel, shocked at what beauty one place could hold.
“Here,” the first one pointed to a hall that ran to from the inside of the courtyard to the outer side and had many rooms on either side. “These are the rooms for guests only, who have not spoken to the King.” The Elves left the small group in the courtyard.
“Shall we rest before we meet the King?” Maethorion asked.
“Yes, we should,” Nieriel answered in reply with the others.
For many hours they slept, and when they awakened it was still light outside.
“That is because there is never night here,” Maethorion pointed out as they each emerged from their room. “Night is a sign of weakness and darkness, but there is none here.”
The two Elves gracefully walked over to them. “Have you business with the King?” One asked.
“Yes, but He does not know we are here.” Maethorion answered.
“I shall go and tell His court master,” the other replied.
In an hour they were standing in the court of the king, awaiting a reply to their request to speak with Him. At the front of the room was a double doorway, through which a streak of light spilled out and onto the floor. Shadows through the crack between the doors. Then suddenly a brighter light opened out into the room, forcing them to close their eyes and cower. When their eyes finally adjusted to the light, they stood and stared in awe of what stood before them. A beauty so refined and gorgeous that even Maethorion stumbled in shock. He stood there looking at them with fierce yet kind eyes, silent and noble. No blemish could be found on HIm and sparkles of light fell from His shoulders. It was the bewitching charm and magnificence that held them breathless before Him. His skin was the fairest of fair and His hair fell in smooth, golden pieces around his shoulders. His crown was made out of pure gold and jewels and His coat out of the skin of pure and unblemished animals. His robe and boots were made of the finest colors from the kingdom.

They were unsure of what to say and so they stood there silent, basking in the light of His beauty.
Finally He spoke. His voice echoed through the hall and reflected off the walls.
“You are silent, why is that so?”

“We have come from the Southern Falls to ask something of you, great King,” Maethorion answered.
He peered down at them from the throne. He knew at once everything about them for He could read their minds and He knew their lives.
“You are very brave young ones, for you have traveled far in search of someone you knew not existed. You need not explain further for I have been to the Southern Falls many times. I have circled the earth and come back millions of times. There is nothing new that I do not know.  I know of the evil brewing within this land and I have talked with the Maker on this subject. He cannot save these people without the just punishment that their disobedience deserves. Blood will have to be spilt if your people will be saved.”
The company began talking among themselves, whispering of the many stories of what would happen in the Last Age, but none of the them had contained this.
“The Maker is displeased with His people and if the blood is not spilled as it justly will be, His wrath will be against His people and the whole Universe. That will truly be the Last Age.”

“Yes, we have heard rumors of His powerful wrath, but we can barely take care of our own people, and the darkness has taken over our lands. Good has been compromised for evil.” Aidan spoke up.
Lithônion began looking at the company and noticing their familiarity. Something seemed familiar about the girl and then He realized who she was.
Ah, yes, it was she. His second generation, a beauty within the world of Men.
He whispered, “Nieriel, yes, that was her name.” She looked up into His eyes and murmured words of love in Elvish. A bond that had been broken for thousands of years was brought together once again.
Quickly they turned away and began talking once again of the dangers that lay in Yameaus.
“For many years we have labored trying to keep our people safe, but it has grown impossible and there is no longer a safe way through this battle. The only way to perhaps have some survive, is to gain an army big enough to take theirs.”
“Yes, the Maker wishes that the army at hand be taken care of before the sacrifice is made.”
“But I have been considering this for some times, and if the blood of one is spilt to regain justice among the nations, killing one evil person to cleanse the world of evil is a vain act,” Maethorion pondered.
“Yes, you have noticed things that many people have not, for they are in the darkness. The Maker has not overlooked that, for someone of equal perfection as that of evil must be sacrificed, and anything less will result in the death of every man in this world.”
“Who then will be sacrificed?” Aidan asked.
“That, Aidan, is only known to the Maker and me. None others can comprehend such things as the Maker does.”
They stood in silence for moments until Lithônion had considered the things they came to talk about.
“I have armies bigger than that of the evil Tarole and his master. They lurk in the shadows, sending out only their army. But bringing out my armies will put your people in jeopardy for they will be between great forces. Are you ready to go to the end with them?”
“But they are not my people. I have come on behalf of Calmar IV of the Southern Falls, for his father has passed, leaving him the king. He was unable to take this journey.” Maethorion looked at the ground, making the sign of the Quel kaima across his chest.
“If you have known what was happening in Yameaus, why did you not send help?”
“Because I was waiting for you to fulfil the sayings in the Book. I see now that you have, and I will hear the pleadings of your voice.”
They all bowed in respect to Him and bade HIm farewell until a further time.
“Farewell and Tenna’ ento lye omenta,” He said. He turned slowly and His light was hid from them again.

For two days they stayed there, waiting for the word of the King. And when finally He came to a decision about His armies, He called them forth from the Earth, uttering His speech to the corners of the world. Slowly the armies gathered and the world creaked beneath the grandeur of their power.

And so they started off, power upon power, led by the King of the West, Lithônion.