Blood Bride (Aarabassa World) (7 page)

Leon woke with a heavy buzzing ringing around his ears. He vaguely remembered the women taking over his care, once his mood had lightened a little. They had provided him with a tasty red wine that he had drunk uncontrollably. Now he suffered the consequences, but not regrettably. He sensed he could not have slept so peacefully without it and wondered if they had put in special herbs to give him some restful comfort.

A tray of refreshing fruits, creamy cheeses,  bread and a jug of cold milk were next to his straw mattress. He gulped the milk down almost choking at a greedy speed. He tore at the moist bread, still warm from baking, but did not have the stomach for any cheeses. When his belly was satisfied he rinsed his hands and face from a brightly painted bowl, with the water provided from a similar painted jug. This was very welcome and assisted in the opening of his heavy eyelids.

Clean garments of pale yellow leggings and a light green sleeveless tunic had been laid out for him. This he appreciated more than anything, his traveling clothes were damp, dirty and very pungent. He dressed in the style of a Cherok male and felt amongst good people at the efforts they had all made to help him in his time of grief. 

Opening the light bamboo cane door, an elderly female greeted him with a nodding head and beautiful smile. She held his hand and led him to the Chief who waited patiently for his arrival in the large hall where he had met the other leaders on the previous moonwake. He recognised some of the leaders present and knew the seven sons of the Chief, but there were also many new faces. In all there were around thirty people gathered. The assisting woman seated him in a chair next to the Chief and motioned with her hand to the other females present. They instantly started to serve warm drinks to each man seated. The Chief in turn smiled at the women and placed his hand on Leon’s arm.

‘You slept well, my son?’ the Chief enquired.

‘I did Chief Dallheim. I don’t know how I achieved such a refreshing rest but I feel well this moonwake,’ Leon replied.

‘Our women brew many potions. They have cure for everything. They give best of care.’

‘I am indebted to your people Chief. My spirits are lifted and I feel ready to continue with my quest,’ Leon said.

‘My Council of Leaders are gathered. They inform the other villages of this news you carry. Our Council now begin.’

At the Chief’s instructions, all the men stood, held hands and bowed their heads, chanting together.

‘Let our leaders be wise and strong 

Let our people live long 

Let us unite and grow

Let us use wisdom to care for the land

Let us begin and embrace our brothers.’

Long benches, stretched down each side of a wooden table. The seats creaked as everyone seated themselves, once finished with the opening ceremony. Leon, seated on a single chair, pushed it back to enable him to stand so he could speak loudly for all to hear.

He explained the situation of his people, the kidnap of his younger brother, the threats and demands of the monshaad Emperor and the travels of the Changeling. He told of the Changelings intentions to try negotiating his brother’s safety. He spoke of his older brother who was journeying to the other Lightland realms to gather other leaders to attend a meeting of the Lightland’s Council. 

The Cherok people considered the protection of their lands of the utmost importance. They had learned many lessons from the Serpent Wars and neither forgot nor forgave. They could quickly raise an army of fast riders and skilled bowmen, preparing for battle in an instant. None seemed surprised at this news and all agreed to protect the creatures of the Lightlands at all costs. Prince Phellip, seated at the other side of the chief, came to place himself at the end of the bench, next to Leon. He stood up to acknowledge Leon’s speech.

‘You are Prince I also Prince. We good friends. We hold Ceremony of Brotherhood. Unite people to face battle. Stand together as creatures of Lightlands.’

Leon knew of this ritual and felt deeply honoured. He would mix his blood with that of Phellips thus making him Phellip’s brother and therefore a member of the Cherok race. This was a rare rite for any outsider. Leon, at a loss for words, took Phellip’s hand and shook it hard.

‘What is this shaking my hand?’ Phellip laughed

‘Actually it can mean “hello”, so to speak, and it can mean that I give you my thanks. All I can think of is to shake your hand in gratitude for the honour that your people have shared with me.’

‘So be it Leon. We be united in brotherhood. Our people stand at your side when time comes’

With these words, Phellip looked around as if searching for someone particular. He found his target and continued to speak. ‘This be good Centaur friend of mine. Wishes to be your guide when you go. She is female and has chosen you. This is grandest of honours. She may remain at your side until old age. These are the ways of Centaurs. She love your dog. This be strange friendship for Centaur. He has touched her heart.’

The Princes shared a moment of laughter and joy. The Chief had left the table but his attention turned to the two Princes. He looked over to share their laughter and felt overwhelmed with pride at his eldest son and his new son to be. He would always have a place in his heart for the sons of his late friend Alfred.

* * *

Heimarl had finally found it. After slogging over hundreds of faded parchments and tightly rolled scrolls, for so many moonwakes that he and his wife Minnah had lost count, he now had his hand on the one manuscript that could provide him with the answers that he sought. He had read the words that he needed to know. He looked up and stared at the low-yellowed sand-rock ceiling. Stretching his arms above his head in a moment of thankful elation, he breathed a loud sigh of relief.

His thoughts wandered as he yearned to share this news. 

If only Alfred were here to share this with me. I miss you, old friend. Your guidance was once the answer to everything. I will need to make these decisions alone now. I can only hope that I choose well. Your sons’ lives are in my hands as are the lives of the creatures and people of the Lightlands. Guide me Alfred from wherever you are. Guide me well, my King.

He looked down to double check the wordage he had just been reading only moments ago, but his eyes stared at a blank parchment. At first, he believed the words must simply be faded with time. Had he perhaps strained his eyes in his attempt to read for so long? His hands felt a sharp burning sensation and then he realised that the parchment was protected by a strong magic. It was seeking his identity before it would reveal its secrets. Clearly, it had accepted him once, when he had first come across this invaluable document, so why should it not acknowledge him again? Waiting patiently he looked upon the scroll and smiled as it slowly revealed to him, once again, the information written by the Ancient Mage. He could not bring himself to read the words out loudly as they slowly became visible. A force he could not comprehend encouraged him to ponder over the information in his mind only.

There is but one element that can diminish the Barrier. Hear now, ye who read these secret words. Ask of yourself why you would wish the creatures of the Lightlands to be threatened with a death and destruction beyond all that the imagination could conceive? Consider the consequences of such a docile act. Those who remove the Wall with ‘he who sleeps’, they alone must ask of themselves why they do so?

Heimarl sat in astonished surprise. He had speculated many a time at how the monshaad Emperor could possibly already know of this, but had failed to arrive at any coherent conclusion.  He was left in no doubt that Morte-Bielz had an uncanny insight as to the essence of the spell remover, and that this powerful information was propelling him forward with his incessant demands. Even with the reading of these clues, Heimarl did not know the identity of ‘He Who Sleeps’. Nor could he stop the Emperor from performing the ritual that would result in the destruction of the Wall.  All that he had learned was that there surely existed a way, a means, a method, to destroy the Wall. Also, it was obvious that the Emperor was aware of this very same information. Now, more than ever before, it was time. It was the time for the Lightland’s Council to unite and face this dire threat, together. They needed a strategy. They needed the strength of all their armies. Now, aware of his foe’s intentions, he understood the threat fully. Now was the time for a battle that would finally stop this evil from encompassing all of Aarabassa.

I
t is difficult to measure time in the Darklands. The sun does not circle or shine upon the lands as it does on the other side of this formidable world. The event of the two moons crossing over the summit of the mid-mountain horizon, is named a Moonpass. Many creatures of the Dark lands are of a spiritual substance and do not live by any measurement of wakefulness or sleep. Vamplins, however, are not spiritual and exist with similar habits as humans. Their sleeping and eating habits are influenced by whichever of the moons is in position in their silver grey skies. The Darklands do benefit a little from the sun’s rays, as they reflect from the passing moons onto the ice and snow to create an eerie silver grey haze over all the lands.

Heather calculated that three moonwakes must have elapsed since they had passed through the Wall. The dragons had remained in their protective circle formation, for safety. They appeared as if in slumber to any passing observer, but their senses tuned in to every movement the surrounding vamplins and monshaads made. 

This was her first experience of meeting with the creatures of the Dark Side. She observed with her magic skills, that the monshaads could take a vague shape of a human, appearing as if cloaked with full length robes, hooded heads and long sleeves to cover their hands. She also noted that whenever the monshaads came close, there was a foul acidic aroma about their presence.

The vamplin creatures also appeared human-like in shape but taller and all were muscular, yet slender. Their pure white long hair matched their pale skin, which seemed as white as snow.  They were elegant beings but Heather could not come to terms with the drinking of a creatures’ blood as sustenance, her human instincts still ruled her heart.

The vamplin hounds appeared more ferocious with fur hanging in clumps from large boney bodies. They were untidy, dirty creatures, obviously feeding on the pickings of their masters. They reminded Heather of a very large skinny dog, though these creatures were much uglier. They appeared capable of walking on two elongated hind legs, though she doubted their ability to remain in this position for long, as it looked unnatural to their formation. Often, Heather noted, they stood upright searching, with red bulging bloodshot eyes, for any weakened creature that they could latch their fangs into and pump the warm blood to feed. Her attention turned to a frantic basca who screeched at a hound in protest of its very presence. It seemed even these huge bats did not like the hounds either. She observed in silence as the basca spread its enormous wingspan, threatening to take off in flight.  The basca calmed with a passing vamplin’s presence, which also appeared fond of the bascas and showed dislike of the hounds.

There was much to fear in these lands yet Heather felt calm whenever the vamplins were near, though she could not yet judge if they were  friend or foe.

Heather had closed herself off to Mindtalk but was quickly learning that dragons had other means of communication. Breathing patterns, whistles of the nostrils, movements of certain limbs, snorting of air and grunting deep in the throat. She had just ended a short exchange of silent interactions with Queen Thimat when she was strangely drawn to the monshaad Emperor Morte-Bielz. He had remained inexplicably quiet so far. He waited with a phenomenal patience, for the Changeling to show her true self.  This made it difficult to judge how fearful he really was.

Heather then turned her attentions to the vamplin Lord Fiendrac. She sensed an emotion of deep passion within this powerfully built leader. He truly cared for his people and appeared to be in some sort of grieving process. From the words she had managed to pick up there had been a disagreement between him and the Emperor over his pet basca. The vamplins appeared to behave similar to humans. The big difference being their food sustenance, and, of course their very pale skin tone. The few women that attended this group were protective of their children, which surely showed a kindness amongst them. The males seemed protective of their women, though the females were not fragile or feeble; their strength alone was probably equal to that of the strongest of human males.

The monshaads clustered in a small group, planning and plotting some misdeed. The vamplin Lord Fiendrac looked over at Morte-Bielz suspiciously. He did not appear to trust or respect the Emperor. 

Equally, the dragons had not yet tired of their circle of unity. In fact, Queen Thimat had reassured Heather that they would remain positioned as such, until Heather made a clear decision of progress. Queen Thimat had also emphasised that Heather should know her enemy well before she made herself known to him.

Heather wished she could Mindtalk her father, his wisdom would be most welcome right now. She could not decide upon which moment to show her true form, full aware that was what the monshaad Emperor awaited. Yet disguised within this dragon form was not really helping her. She needed to know what he had done with Raphael. She needed to know of any progress they had achieved in their twisted plots to pass through the Wall? She needed to know exactly what this Emperor needed of her. None of these answers would materialise whilst she remained a silent dragon.

Whilst she pondered over these issues, the eerie green monshaad shadows dispersed and floated out over the vamplin camp. They hovered over the vamplin mothers with a sinister and uneasy flow. What were they up to? The mothers called to their children in a protective gesture. One small group of children played on the outskirts of the camp. Heather could hear the chanting of their playful voices with her keen dragon senses. The boys merrily chased the girls around tall dark stones as they innocently enjoyed their childish games.

A slow panic was unfolding in the camp as a few mothers looked longingly for their missing children. With a swirling gush of thick dusty wind, the monshaad vapours changed direction; they had spotted the lone children before the vamplin mothers could find them. Each child dropped to the hardened cold ground limply. Foul green gasses swirled around their small bodies. Using dark magics the monshaads captured the unconscious children and swiftly soared off into the deepness of the dark skies, with their tiny victims. Vamplin females shouted with hatred and rage, trying pitifully to jump up and reach for the skies with upraised arms. Lord Fiendrac was realising the true turn of events. He swiftly turned to focus on the dragons. Did he seek their help to save their young or did he blame them for this traitorous deed of his evil neighbours?

‘Lord Fiendrac,’ a female vamplin pleaded as she fell upon the ground at his feet. ‘Please rescue my child! Why are we at the mercy of these foul spirits?’

‘Your child will be returned to you. We will take flight and take back what is ours,’ Lord Fiendrac replied with a weary saddened expression, unsure if the children would return alive or dead.

‘We should be fighting these evil creatures,’ a voice cried from the female crowd that had amassed together.

‘How?’ Fiendrac shouted at them. ‘How do we fight dark magic? How do we fight death itself?

‘You are no Lord!’ A grieving female dared to blame her leader. ‘You sell our souls to death.’

‘You are wrong.’ Fiendrac was loosing the trust of these women, in their panic. ‘It is because I am your leader that I do not fight this evil magic. This Emperor is not of flesh and blood. He has such magic that we cannot hope to win over him. I do all I can to protect you from these creatures.’

Fiendrac knew he was defeated. He could do nothing to stop the monshaads from killing his people; he could do nothing to convince his people he could protect them, because he could not. How do you fight a shadow?