Hemlock And The Dead God's Legacy (Book 2) (20 page)

Soon the path had clearly leveled off, and
then it rapidly began to descend.  The group’s spirits began to rise as the mists began to thin.

As they rounded a corner after a difficult part
of the path, each of them stopped to take in the newly revealed view.

The vale they saw below them was like an expression of some raw, divine passion: primal in its execution and ethereal in its result. None that laid eyes upon it were unmoved. Some were brought to tears. It affected them all differently, but fundamentally, with a force comparable to the infinitely life affirming power of the milk suckled from a mother's bosom.

There were high cliffs from which descended a multitude of playful cyan waterfalls.  These graceful arcs of water fell into serene pools, which themselves culminated in smaller falls that fed still lower pools. The water descended in this fashion, layer upon layer, down to a central lake, which was ringed in reddish sand that quickly gave way to a border of lush green foliage. The sky, now visible over the vale, was a perfect blue, accented artfully with heavenly white brush strokes of cotton.

Small, naked figures relaxed in the many pools, their voices and laughter carrying on a sweet and pleasant breeze.
Large, delicate sailboats glided with the wind in many places across the lake, their gaily colored pennants flapping joyously.

Hemlock thought that the
newly audible sounds of the place could not have been more elegant if the greatest band in the City had been playing their finest minuet: the water burbled triumphantly, the birds and insects made a frolicking melody, and many of the people themselves sang together in a tune that seemed interwoven with the laughter and other sounds of the place.

None of
the explorers was able to speak a word for several minutes.

“This is the accursed vale?” Hemlock finally managed.

“It would appear to be so,” replied Tored.

Hemlock felt reassured by his matter of fact tone.  It was like a lifeline back to her normal reality, when all of
her senses were suggesting some alternate reality lay before her.  The fact that the vale seemed incredibly pleasant did not make it seem any less alien.

“Let’s go
explore it!” cried Otticus.

“Wait,” cautioned Renevos in a voice that did not sound completely convincing.

“Let’s proceed, but remember that there is rumor of a curse here.  Could a deception be more artfully prepared than what we see before us?  Be cautious!” said Tored.

His words seemed to sober the group somewhat, but spirits were high as they descended at what Hemlock thought was a reckless speed.

As the perfection of their destination came increasingly into focus, Hemlock became more aware that the group was still covered in the filth of their recent battle.

When they entered a clearing with a hot spring, Hemlock urged a delay s
o they might quickly bathe.  Even Tored considered this a good idea, once he had carefully surveyed the pool and detected nothing unusual.

Once they emerged clean, they continued their descent.  It wa
s clear they had been spotted, because many of the revelers below were gathering at the foot of the path, and all of the boats had docked.

A final, small peak blocked the group’s view of the vale as they neared the bottom of the path.  When they finally rounded it, the full splendor of the people
waiting for them was revealed.

Hemlock’s eye was first drawn to a woman of stunning beauty that stood before those assembled
to meet the group.  She met Hemlock’s gaze, and smiled at her.  Her smile was like a melodious chord struck on a harp.  And the woman’s golden hair, woven crown of flowers, shimmering, sheer gown of light, and scepter of woven roses were wonders that her senses could not fully register.  The only beauty she could compare this to was the hideous, cold beauty of the first witch she had slain.  But this woman was free of any hint of taint or decay.  Rather, she emanated a sublime purity.

Hemlock wasn’t sure how long she stood and stared at the woman before she gradually became aware of the man standing beside and slightly behind her.  He was taller than the woman, and darker.  His face was thin and long, and artfully arrayed.  His curly hair was wet, and his eyes locked with
Hemlock’s.  He looked at her with a gaze that suggested an invitation to pleasure without breeching good taste or decorum.  His body was toned and muscular.  But this was an unremarkable trait amongst those that greeted them, for they all shared it.  The man’s only attempt at modesty took the form of a small bouquet of angular red and orange flowers that he held in a careless attempt at concealment.

“Welcome to our Vale.  I am Cassandra, Queen of the
Ishawn.  I greet you with pleasure,” said the woman, after what Hemlock feared had been minutes of awkward silence.  But then she suddenly considered that a silly thought, and didn’t concern herself with it. 

Nothing is awkward in this place.

“Hi.  My name is Hemlock.  We are here from the City.”

“Welcome
, Hemlock,” said Cassandra, and a chorus of relaxed welcomes reverberated from the revelers.

“Thank you.”

Cassandra pointed toward the sky.  “Look, the mists are receding.  What a wonderful boon—to see the sky again is so precious.”

Hemlock looked up and then behind her.  The mists were clearing over the mountain pass.

“It must have been that creature that we killed,” she said.

“We wondered how you passed the
Groolnak.  It has kept us trapped here for centuries.  And few have managed to enter in that time.  We heard a great thunder-clap, and wondered at its source.  Then we saw you descending into the Vale as the mists receded.  I hoped for a miracle such as this, but I can scarcely believe it’s true!”

“Why did the
Groolnak imprison you here?  It wasn’t that hard to kill. “

“The
Groolnak was designed to be an impossible foe for us, for we are not warriors.  Our only weapon, if you can call it that, is to fulfill sensual appetites and dispel aggression.  But the Groolnak, as you saw, was a creature with insatiable appetites and boundless malice.  It was created by our Bachawn sisters to imprison us here.”

Hemlock heard
Acron Gallus stammering behind her.  As she turned, he found his tongue.

“Witch…  She is a witch.  She is a witch!” he said with increasing passion.

The Tanna Varrans brandished their spears as if waking from a dream.  Even Tored appeared to be on the edge of violence.

Screams of fear broke out from the Revelers and many of them burst into tears.

“Wait!” cried Hemlock as she positioned herself between Cassandra and the Tanna Varrans.  She saw that Tored had composed himself, but Acron Gallus and the rest of the Tanna Varrans were still impassioned.

Otticus rallied the First Circle wizards around Hemlock and they helped her to restrain the Tanna Varrans.

“Beware her tricks!  She may be different than her sisters, but she’s just as deadly!  Don’t underestimate her!” screamed Arcon Gallus.

With a lightning stroke of her sabre, Hemlock sliced the tip off of the spear that
Acron Gallus brandished.  Getting the attention of the Tanna Varrans, she called out in a loud voice: “Lower your weapons!  Look at these people.  They aren’t warriors.  We will be wary of them, but we will also hear them out.”

“You’re a fool!” said
Acron Gallus, throwing the remnant of his spear down in disgust.

Hemlock ignored him and turned back to Cassandra, who, along with the
striking  man at her side, was consoling the crying revelers around them.

“Please, my people are more sensitive than most,” Cassandra pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” said Hemlock, “but the Tanna Varrans have suffered greatly at the hands of the witches.  Is it true that you are also witches?”

“We call
our race the Witchawn.  But we are different than our sisters.  Where they sustained themselves by causing suffering, we are interested only in peace.  Amongst our people, they are known as the Bachawn.  We are known as the Ishawn.  We are related, but very different.”

Cassandra looked at
Acron Gallus. “There is no need for enmity between us.”

“There will always be enmity between us, witch!” spat
Acron Gallus.

“
Faruk, take the people back to the Lake and wait for me there,” Cassandra said to the man at her side.

He nodded to her and then to Hemlock, turned, and attended to the revelers.

“Leave this place, then, and let us alone.  We have no wish to quarrel with you,” Cassandra said to Acron Gallus.

“We will suffer no witch to live within our lands any longer!  You will die as the rest have.  Why
, this girl that you are so happy to parley with, has slain two of your kind with her own hands!  What say you about that?” Acron Gallus cried.

Cassandra looked at Hemlock
. “Is this true?”

“Yes.  These
Bachawn, as you call them, were evil to the core.  They were trying to kill the Tanna Varrans.  And one tried to kill me.”

Cassandra looked down in contemplation
. “I see.  Do any of them yet live?”

“Not that we’re aware of.”

A tear rolled down Cassandra’s cheek.  Hemlock thought that it looked like a shimmering ice crystal as it slid along the gentle, flawless curve of flesh.

“I know what they were, but they were still my sisters and brother.  Now
Faruk is all I have left,” said Cassandra.

“What are these others?  Are they not of your kind?”

“No.  They are short lived people, as you are.”

As Hemlock stared at Cassandra
, she slowly noticed a potent tapestry of magical threads that seemed woven into the entire Vale.  She could sense its power, and had the sudden realization that this power was drawn from the Wand of the Imperator that she sought.

“Cassandra, we have come here for a reason.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, our intent is to release this
land from the City.”

“I have heard rumor of this
great City.  Is it a beautiful place?”

“Yes.  And no.  It’s not perfect like this place.  But there is beauty there as well as ugliness.”

“I see.  So we will return to the old lands?”

“Not if I can help it!” cried
Acron Gallus.

“Please!”
shouted Hemlock over her shoulder.

Hemlock looked back at Cassandra
. “There is a magical artifact here that we also need to remove.  Doing so will return this region to your old lands.”

“That is well, assuming we can come to an accord with these Tanna Varrans,” said Cassandra.

“I’ll work on that,” said Hemlock as she heard Acron Gallus spit contemptuously behind her, “but there is another thing you need to consider.  I can sense the nature of this place.  There is great magic here.  It’s beautifully crafted.  But I see that this power is being drawn from the magical artifact that we seek.  What will happen to this place when we remove this item?”

Cassandra tilted her head and reached down to
caress a wildflower that bloomed near her foot.  “It will fade away,” she said softly.  But then she stood tall, and her bearing was proud. “Still, we will remake it as we can.  It will not be as perfectly beautiful as it is now.  But it will still be a place of beauty and peace.”

“I’m sorry that it has to be this way, but I seek a magical Wand.  Do you know where it is located?  I sense that it is beneath this Vale,” said Hemlock.

“Yes, I imagine that it must have been placed in the caves under this place by those wizards that came to our Vale so many years ago.  My sisters fought them at first, but then they lured us here and trapped us with the Groolnak.  I think they suspected us of being in league with the wizards.  We were not hostile to them, but that is as far as it went.  But my sisters were always suspicious of me.”

“Where are these caves?”

Cassandra pointed across the lake. “The entrance is there, beyond the lake, in the rocky area below the large, reddish pool.”

“I’ve heard that a Demon guards the Wand?”

“There is a spirit down there.  She’s been there since the wizards left.  She suffers greatly, and has always refused our company.  Her suffering enrages her, I think.  But I don’t think she’s a demon.  I would call her a tormented spirit of the old world.  She doesn’t bother us, but she forbids us entry into the caves.  If you enter, you may run afoul of her.”

“Do you know anything more about this spirit?”

“I have only spoken with her twice at a distance, when she approached the surface.  I know that she favors the shelter of the caves, but I know little more.”

“Al
l right.  Well, given the situation, I think it’s best if our group makes camp in a clearing in the pass.  I will discuss matters with the Tanna Varrans, and we will meet with you in the morning to discuss our plans.”