Chapter Six
The day was windy but clear. She could see the animals of her forest going about their daily routines. She could smell the fresh new blossoms on the trees. The only thing missing was a good nap. Lisann quietly returned to the ruins of that old cottage, spoke the words of a spell, and watched it grow. Many years had she lived here since Wyrmwood was raising Tystyl up to be a warrior, until the dwarf had gathered enough orphans to have to build a larger home. Once the walls had formed and the roof began to take shape, the woman stepped just inside the door. Her fire was already burning in the fireplace, and furnishings were materializing. When Lisann wasn't home, she would cast the illusion of the house being in ruin to discourage folk from trying to steal anything.
She didn't know she was being followed.
From somewhere behind her, in the woods, she heard an unnatural sound. The sound of steel being drawn from leather. She quickly closed and barred the door. A minute later came the knock. A deep voice she recognized came from the other side of the door. The captain of the guard called, “Lady Lisann, King Tystyl is in dire need of your assistance.” Omarus was lying. Lisann went to a corner of the main room, gathering a few assorted wands.
“Omarus,” she called, “is that you?”
“Yes, my Lady, our king is injured, he needs your healing powers” came the man's voice. She wondered what he was up to, for she knew Omarus was the one who attempted to kill the king.
“I shall be out in a minute” she said through the door. A moment later, she triggered one of her wands, aiming squarely at the door. The blast knocked her backward into the other room of the cottage, incinerated the door, and threw Omarus twenty feet back. With a thud, he landed hard on his tail. Lisann frantically began to work another spell.
“You wretched whore!” Omarus yelled as he pulled himself from the grass, smoke rising from his singed cloak. As soon as he had his balance, he rushed forward, shielding his face from the heat of the flaming doorway, and into... Nothing. Omarus now found himself in darkness. He didn't feel the floor, nor did he see anything. All of the sights and sounds of the forest were gone. He couldn't tell if he was falling or if he were still. Had he died? All he knew was darkness now.
Knowing she could no longer stay at her home, Lady Lisann decided she should join Tystyl in his search for their friend Wyrmwood. She went outside and cast her illusion over her house. Putting two fingers between her lips, she let out a loud whistle. A few minutes later, a giant eagle landed in front of her. “Kemda, my old friend,” she said as she climbed onto the eagle's feathered back, “take me south.”
*******
Tystyl and Wyrmwood talked throughout the night, far enough from Kryzzl that he could not hear them. “I went out for you three years ago,” said Tystyl. “I have felt nothing but pain since that damned old wizard pushed you out of court. I pray you can forgive me for that, Father. I meant you no wrong, but I should have been wise enough to see what Fael was up to.”
“I do forgive ye, me son. I tried to warn ye 'bout the mage. Any man lives longer than a century, always be up to no damned good.” He smiled at his son as he began to formulate a plan. “Are ye still allied with the wizard from the main land?” the dwarf asked.
“Of course, but how will he help us?” The puzzled king asked.
“We'll need all the help we can muster for me plan, ye see. I reckon we ought to take the fight straight to Fael. He'll not know what hit him.” The old dwarf grinned.
“Father, we cannot harm him in his tower. Plus, if we had these rings close enough to his own, he would surely fight harder.” Wyrmwood seemed amused at Tystyl's naivety.
“That be why we need the other mage, me boy. He can cast his protection spells an' break down the tower's magical defenses. An' then...” Wyrmwood swung an imaginary axe and hung his head, feigning death.
Tystyl considered the option. After some thought, he finally said to Wyrmwood, “We'll need more muscle. If Fael knows we are alive, he will be watching us as soon as we enter his territory. He will either vanish, or call my knights to his aid.”
“Aye, 'tis why me own folk will have to help us. I will send for me brother Bareet, and if'n Lebouf still fights for the king... I know ye have some pull with ol' Jak an' the elves. We can get this done.”
*******
The darkness enveloped him, pressed in on him. Omarus could not move. He could not see. Could not hear. He called out several times, without even hearing his own voice. How long had he been there? It seemed like an eternity. This didn't feel like Hell. He was not consumed by fire and brimstone, only darkness. Then, suddenly, he saw a spec of light. The light slowly grew, the larger it got, the slower it seemed to grow. This great light in the vast darkness seemed to beckon him, pulsating and changing colors.
The first color was purple, then blue, then green. The light changed in this manner many times. The light slowly formed into a shape. At this time, Omarus began to hear a gentle breeze. The light was ever changing and moving about now. The sound would crescendo into a more prominent wind, until the roaring cacophony was almost too much for his ears. It all stopped. The light went out, he heard no sound. Back to darkness.
*******
Jak the elf was tending to his garden when the call came out. “To Arms,” one of the other elves in the village yelled. “A giant eagle is overhead!”
Jak called to him sternly “Hold fire until it screeches.” Jak knew that these giant eagles usually screeched out a warning before taking prey. They like the sport of the chase. This one, however did not screech, but circled the village seemingly looking for a clear landing. When the eagle finally started to descend, Jak could just make out the form clinging to it's back. “Hold your fire,” he said, “It's the Lady of the North Forest.” The eagle landed in the only place that was large enough in the small village. Lisann hopped off, spoke a soft word to the eagle, and Kemda took flight once more.
“Well met, Jak,” the druid said, “I need to know where King Tystyl has gone. He may need me.”
“Tystyl is well, he has Wyrmwood at Hillchurch. They have taken Kryzzl prisoner, and should be returning to the valley this day.” Jak smiled as he always did when speaking to Lisann. She was a human after an elf's heart. She held the utmost respect for nature, healing the land and all of its inhabitants.
Lisann had come to know Tystyl and Wyrmwood one day when Tystyl was still an adolescent. She had been caught in a bear trap, and the boy freed her without expecting any reward. She had been forever grateful to him and loyal to his cause. When he finally grew into adulthood and was crowned king, he had given her the title of Forest Keeper. She wore the title with pride.
“Kryzzl?” She was puzzled, did not understand why they had the man prisoner. “Kryzzl came to me a few days past seeking Wyrmwood for some business in Jire. I sensed no ill will in the man.”
Jak replied, “He has in his possession false papers from Jire, and Wyrmwood's ring. He also speaks falsely about the dawrf's brother, Bareet, claiming him to be dead. However, we have scouts in Jire that see the king riding out on his daily patrols.”
Lisann gave Jak a worried look. “I gave him Wyrmwood's ring in hopes that he would find him and help protect him.”
“Worry not, My Lady, the Elder Ring is in the right hands now. We should be seeing your king and his father soon. Stay with us until then, we shall all have a meal in the presence of Horlarl and the court.” Jak turned his head to the east, his pointed ears alert. “They come now, I hear the ponies.”
A minute or so later, King Tystyl and Sir Wyrmwood topped the ridge just above the valley, leading the ponies. Riding on one of them was the bound Kryzzl. Lisann rushed up the hill to get to them sooner, stumbling on her own dress a couple of times. When she met them, she quickly went over to Kryzzl and gave him a hard backhanded slap across his mouth. “You should never lie to a woman,” she scolded, “we always find out the truth.” She then turned to Wyrmwood and barely kept her composure.
Ten years he had been gone. Ten years she worried. This dwarf was the closest thing to a husband she ever knew.
“Me Lady,” Wyrmwood said as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist. “How I have missed ye these years.” With tears in his eyes he raised up on the tips of his boots as she met his bearded face for a kiss. Lisann stroked his hair and tugged at his beard just to make sure he was real.
Tystyl stepped forward and bowed, “Lady Lisann,” he said, “we have a plan, of sorts. It is a good thing for you to be here. We will need your help.” He then turned to Jak, who had walked up to meet them, and said “we will need help from the elves as well if we are to have any chance at victory.”
Later that evening, in the dining room of the elven king, Tystyl began to lay out the plan. “I will need a messenger to get to the main land and bring back the mage Edward of Costil. If he then can spare any troops, it would be good, but it would also waste time.” He then turned to Horlarl, “If you could send a score of archers, I can assure you the reward will be great.”
Lisann put in, “I can ride Kemda above the tower and watch over everyone, healing as needed.”
Jak stood up, retrieved an object from a pouch hung on his belt. He tossed the object to Tystyl.
“This might be useful,” he told the king as Tystyl examined the square gem. It was clear as glass, but with swirling energy as black as the darkest of nights.
“What is this?” the puzzled king asked, turning the stone in his hand.
Jak replied, “The body and soul of your captain of the guard. Lisann cast him into this gem without knowing. I witnessed it this morning through my seeing crystal.” Tystyl continued to gaze at the gem. “When you need it most, the gem will get warm. The object is intelligent, It will know when to release the captain.” Horlarl looked tired. His wrinkled face showed great concern.
“King Tystyl, I have not left this valley in two hundred years. Through my crystals I have seen every event that has happened in all of Atalmor. I have never once seen any army of any size defeat a wicked mage in his own tower. I know of this Edward of Costil. He is a great wizard, however I do not believe he has studied the Dark Arts. I will aid you any way I can. I will have five score archers ready in three sunrises. I will send for a friend of mine, if he still lives, on the main land. Adley is a sorcerer, trained in the Dark Arts, and may be of more use than Edward of Costil.” The elven king then excused himself from the table, limping toward his private chambers. “Good luck,” turning his head to the table just before walking out of the room, “and may Caryn live to see freedom once more.”