me.”
He indicated King Jarrek with a flourishing, outstretched hand.
“As the former ruler of Wildermont can tell you, I can and will tear this ancient place to the ground. If you swear fealty to me though, Willa the Witch, I might let your citizens repopulate Wildermont. The place is completely empty at the moment.”
Pael chuckled coldly, and turned away from Jarrek’s outraged crimson expression.
“If you do not, then my Dakaneese friends will be pleased to sell your people afar.”
It wouldn’t have surprised Hyden if smoke began rolling out of King Jarrek’s ears. The man was fuming with anger, but somehow managed to keep his tongue in check.
Seeing his effect on Jarrek’s demeanor, Pael laughed more deeply, then strode through the air, over the table, toward Queen Willa.
“I would rather not destroy this place, but have no doubt that I will, if you resist me, witch.”
“We will not run from you!” Willa said fiercely.
From somewhere high in the room, Talon cried out a proud shriek of support. The hawkling’s call reverberated around the stonewalled room harshly, causing Pael to flinch and glance about. Once the wizard determined that there was no threat to him, his temper flared.
“You fools will think differently when you gaze upon my army.”
Pael turned, and strode back over the table towards where Targon, Hyden, and Andra were. Clasping his hands behind his back, he continued his tirade.
“My daughter, who incidentally, is now known as the Dragon Queen of Westland, was only supposed to cause blood to be shed on the sacred soil of the Leif Greyn Valley so that the Dragon’s Pact might be broken. With the dragon unbound to the Seal, I had my way. The fact that her little band, dressed as your Blacksword soldiers, caused King Broderick and Queen Rachel to attack you was a boon I couldn’t have conceived and better planned myself.”
He stopped, and turned back towards General Spyra. From across the length of the table the General met his eyes.
“By the way, General, you needn’t worry about the Valleyans and Seawardsmen now. I’ve killed the lot of them. You’ll find out when the dawn breaks, that they march for me now!”
Pael strode quickly back towards that end of the table, where he stopped and bent forward to meet Queen Willa’s eyes. She was standing rigid, clenching her fists over and again. The set of her jaw looked painfully tight, and her eyes were alight with fear and fury.
“They are already dead, witch!” Pael yelled at her. “Take the morning to gaze upon them. Loose a few arrows into the ranks and see for yourself. They will not fall. And when the morrow ends, they will set upon Xwarda. You’d be wise to flee, before I arrive to oversee the occupation!”
“We have the sword, and we will stop you!” Hyden stood and yelled at Pael’s back.
Targon put a restraining hand on his shoulder, but Hyden shrugged it off, as Pael turned, and almost ran back down the table at him.
Pael recognized the boy, and it startled him. It wasn’t the specific face he remembered though. It was the brother’s face, and he remembered it well enough to immediately recognize the relation.
“It was your brother’s life blood that opened the Seal and bound the demon for me, boy!” Pael was trembling with fury, and spittle flew from his mouth, as he spoke. “My daughter used him to collar the dragon, and then left him for me to sacrifice!”
Talon swooped down from somewhere above, and landed on Hyden’s shoulder. Hyden was terrified by the white-skinned abomination. He didn’t know what to do or say, or why he had said what he had. It was all he could do, to hold the defiant look on his face, as Pael took a knee, and leaned down to look him in the eyes. For a long moment, the demon-wizard just stared at him. Then, in a half pouty, childish voice Pael spoke.
“Little Fawlkra Mahn, you should’ve taken the ring from your fool brother when you had the chance. It was meant for you, and without it, you are nothing to me.” Pael’s voice grew hard and menacing. “And tell that idiot squire, if he survived the Choska, that I will chew him up, and spit out his pieces all across MY FARGIN KINGDOMS!”
The last few words were screamed in a demonic voice so deep, that it rattled the cups on the table.
Pael jerked upright, and whirled toward Queen Willa. His voice grated like a massive stone slab being dragged across a gravel road.
“On the dusk of morrow, if you are still here, you will all be slaughtered!”
Then, with a flourish of his robes, and a hissing pop, his apparition was gone.
Later, as the sun was setting, Targon showed Hyden the door to Pratchert’s Tower, and gave him a dire warning.
“You either pass Dahg Mahn’s trials, or you never return from beyond that door.”
“How many have passed?” Hyden asked, hoping to be able to speak to one who had done so.
“None,” Targon replied simply.
Hyden nodded his understanding. He wasn’t ready to enter yet, and he knew it. Ready or not, he would have to enter soon though. The demon-wizard wasn’t about to wait for him to prepare.
His problem wasn’t fear of the trial. He had faith that the White Goddess wouldn’t send him off to die in some ancient wizard’s trap. What troubled him, was what he would do with the crystal, if and when, he recovered it from the tower. It could take weeks to get it across the land to the marshes, where the Dragon Spire was located. By then, it would be too late. If it was small enough, then maybe Talon could carry it there. But even if it was small enough, how would Talon dissolve it into the carving of the Seal’s symbol?
He sighed, and tried to sort out all the questions forming in his mind. Then, he changed his train of thought altogether.
“Is there anything you can do for Mikahl?” Hyden asked, as he followed Targon away from Pratchert’s door.
Somehow, knowing Gerard’s fate had caused him to see that this was as much his war as it was Mikahl’s. His personal responsibility for his brother’s actions, and the burning feeling, a longing for vengeance that was growing inside him, seemed to give him strength and resolve. With or without Mikahl and Ironspike he would face the darkness ahead; but he would much rather face it with his friend by his side.
“There are possibilities, but none that would prepare him for the upcoming battle,” Targon answered honestly. “Queen Willa said he was -is a brave soul.”
“Aye,” Hyden agreed. “And he is vicious with a blade. Not just Ironspike, but any length of steel.”
After a moment, Hyden asked, “What was it that Pael called me? Fawlkra Mahn?”
“It means hawk man, like Dahg Mahn means dog man.”
Hyden thought of Vaegon then. If he was to be remembered, which he doubted he would be, he would rather be remembered as Hyden Hawk. Fawlkra Mahn sounded more like a food dish, or maybe a wagon part. Thinking of the elf, and the fact that Vaegon was out doing something, instead of wandering around, blowing hot air, caused him to strengthen his resolve even further. He forced himself to focus his attention.
“Do you know of a magical crystal that Dahg Mahn possessed?” Hyden asked hopefully.
“I assume you mean the Night Shard.”
Targon stopped their procession through the bustling corridor they had entered.
“There’s a text that mentions it in the Royal Library. It came from deep within the earth, and was given to Pratchert by the dwarves for some great act of wizardry that he supposedly performed for them.”
He paused and put his finger to his chin.
“There is a tapestry depicting the ceremony in which it was presented. The Shard was one of his most prized possessions, they say.”
“Can you show me this tapestry?”
Hope was beginning to rise in Hyden’s heart. Once he knew how big the crystal was, he could start forming an actual plan. Surely, the depiction showed the artifact’s size in relation to a man.
As they traversed the mile or so of stairways and passages that led to the hall where the old tapestries were stored, Hyden explained what his goddess had told him to do with the crystal. At one point, Hyden looked around and realized that they were outside under the stars, crossing an open-air courtyard that was big enough to contain his whole village.
