Nightfall (Book 1) (21 page)

The wizard stood. “Yes, you can get up, just stay within the clearing here, for now.” I nodded and swung my legs over the edge of the hanging bed, then stood. My muscles were grateful for the change of position, but they were a little weak from having done nothing for two full days. I swept the screen from my path and walked out onto the lush lawn of green; the grass seemed to be alive because of a soft breeze that ruffled the blades, making them dance. I walked around the field until just before noon, when Koldobika called me back to the screened room. I trotted back to him and found Arrats sitting up, taking in the scenery that was so very different from any he was used to. When he saw me, he smiled. I was glad that he recognized me, since he had not when I had found him in the Guards’ barracks.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked.

“You have no idea,” he laughed. I smiled at the sight of him well again. “So, where am I? Our friend here will not tell me a thing, other than that you came and got me from Caernadvall. So, I merely know one place that I am not.”

“Are there actually any places like this in Zigor’s kingdom?” I asked.

“Zigor?”

“Oh—that is the name of the King of Caernadvall.”

“Oh.” The boy looked at the trees again. “No, there are no places in Caernadvall where you cannot see either the Wall or buildings—at least, none that I am aware of.” He leaned back in the hammock. “Sorry, I just feel a bit weak.”

I smiled, understanding. “You have been asleep for approximately five days, now, I believe.”

My friend closed his eyes and smiled. “Tell me about what you have done since leaving Caernadvall,” he suggested. I sat sideways on my hammock and began from the night I had left him, Eskarne, and Ekaitz and only stopped when two elves—whom I had never before met—brought our lunch.

I was attired in plain black as Koldobika and Basajaun led me to the meeting place of the Council. As I had been instructed, I did not carry a single weapon with me, which seemed strange; I was used to the slight weight of my sword, and a dagger or two at my hip, or the bow and a quiver of arrows on my back. The lack of a weapon made me feel naked in a way. As usual, a few of the beings whose paths I crossed throughout the haven bowed to me. I smiled and nodded my head in return and greeted those I knew, by name. We walked into a section of the city, nearly at its borders, where I had never been before and stopped in a clearing with a small crowd of ranged faces.

The leaves of the circling trees were a bright green which contrasted nicely with the dark of the huge monoliths’ bark. Warm sunlight filtered through the clearing, playfully glinted off the weapons belonging to the Council members, and brightened the cold-grey stone seats arranged in a solemn circle. The curious faces of eleven of the twelve Council members looked at me, as I followed my two guides into the clearing.

There was a handsome male centaur with nut-brown skin, slightly darker than mine; he had long, braided, black hair falling down his broad shoulders; the horse section of him displayed a fine, glossy coat of midnight black. He wore a huge, two-handed sword strapped at his side, and the fletching of many arrows peeped over his muscled shoulder, and a strung bow was slung over his human back—next to the quiver. He wore no clothes over his human torso—which was not
 at all uncommon in the haven—and in the spirit of competitiveness, I considered ripping my own shirt off. I decided against that though, since I would only have succeeded in making a fool of myself. His almond shaped eyes were a shocking blue, with thick brows arching over them.

Beside the centaur, a dwarf woman sat on a stone chair that—although it was too big—she made seem as if it were quite small, just from the arrogant way she carried herself. She had eyes the color of oak leaves in the fall, and wore brightly colored clothes; not knowing much about the ways of dwarves, I was a little surprised to see a large, finely wrought battle axe held lazily in her right hand over the armrest of her chair, as if it were her scepter. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as I entered the range of her view, as if I were to be the new victim of her pranks.

A giantess looked down on me with a scrutinizing gaze; even sitting down she was almost a quarter the height of the enormous oaks of the Oihana forest. She wore dark green clothes, randomly streaked with an equally dark grey. Her black hair was cropped short, and she bore the scars of many battles—though from what I had heard, giants were a rather peace-loving race.

A dragonman with silver and red scales on his wings, dark skin, and a torso nearly as muscled as the
centaur’s, scowled at me. He sported two fangs in the front of his mouth—I could not remember Alaia having teeth like that—and when I gave him a big smile (his dark look was getting on my nerves), he gave his own serpentine snarl in return. He actually hissed at me for trying to be friendly—how weird was that? The thought that he was a spy of Zigor's crossed my mind, but as a member of the Council—and a creature of magic, nonetheless—I knew he could not be such.

I next noticed a pegusi; the difference in demeanor from the dragonman to the flying horse was like a slap on the face. I had just gone from looking at a man who seemed to want to kill me, to a heavenly being whose white coat was practically as bright and invigorating as sunlight reflected off clean snow.
The pegusi trumpeted at me and then pranced about, before he backed off shyly. The being’s welcoming actions brought a smile to my face and momentarily erased the scowling dragonman from my mind.

I noticed that to the sides of the empty seat, opposite where I stood, were perched a beautiful phoenix, with grand plumage that shone in the bright sunlight, and at the other side a storm sprite, seated upon a raised pedestal. I noticed the blacksmith and ogre, Ganix, seated in a large stone seat and smiled, then nodded my head in greeting. The ogre smiled back, and then looked behind me, to Koldobika.

A gryphon, with pale, golden fur and feathers, lounged on a small stone dais. He watched my every move as I was led by Basajaun to the center of the oval made by the seated Council members. A girl, who looked about a year older than I—at most—with pale skin and large, light blue eyes, stared at me under fluttering, lowered lashes; they reminded me of butterfly wings for some reason. She wore clothes that the elf women would only dare wear while swimming and they were made of soft, pale colored materials. She had long, golden locks that flowed down her nearly bare back and glowed like sunlight against her skin.

Behind me, Koldobika coughed meaningfully and kicked the back of my foot. “Concentrate,” he instructed. I snapped out of my daze and looked away from the girl—the nymph. I would have to be cautious around her.

The remaining seated member of the Council removed her hood, revealed an old, wrinkled, and familiar face, framed by long, white dreadlocks. Alazne smiled warmly at me, revealing her perfect, white teeth, and her eyes crinkled at the sides. I smiled back, incredibly pleased to see her again. Then I watched, a little surprised, as Basajaun left the wizard and I, to sit serenely on the empty stone throne at the head of the Council.

Through the clearing flew a small herd of faetaurs—which were just a sort of faerie that mocked the centaurs and were only four to five inches tall. The faeries evacuated quickly as a flock of sunbirds flew overhead, some swooping beneath the canopy of the trees. The frantic cries of the faetaurs could be heard as they disappeared into the forest, though the birds paid them no heed and soared back into the open reaches of the sky.

Koldobika tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. "I am afraid I have no right to stay here, Izotz. Good luck." I gave the wizard a crooked smile and nodded; I had been expecting that I would have to face the Council alone. He turned and left, and I watched for a second before I turned back to face the elf Lord.

Basajaun introduced each of the members of the Council to me as soon as the wizard was far enough away that the meeting could begin. “Zeru who represents the pegusi; Nekane of the phoenix; Luken, the gryphons; Itxaro who is here on behalf of the giants; Ihintza the storm sprites; Gurutze representing the dwarves; Ganix, those few but appreciated ogres who fight against even their own kin, for the sake of a great cause; Esti of the nymphs; Erramun the dragonman who is here on behalf of both the dragonfolk and Aintza of the dragons; I, Basajaun, for the elves; Argider the centaur represents his people; and, alas, on behalf of the unicorns—as we all know—there is no representative.”

For some reason, the elf Lord’s last words jumped out at me—they finalized the idea that the unicorns had actually been on the land that I called home, though it was long, long ago. “Do you have any questions before we begin?” Basajaun asked.

“Where are the dragons?” I asked. Hearing the muttering of a few in the crowd, I added, “I know the reason for the absence of the unicorns, but why the dragons as well?”

“They left shortly before the change in Zigor took place, now we have no idea where they are because we have not been contacted by any of their numbers, and even through our many efforts we still are unable to find them.” The answer came from the centaur, Argider. The dragonman hissed a few words at him, which I was unable to catch.

I looked gratefully at the centaur, who smiled back at me, and then the elf questioned me again. “Is that all?” he asked. I nodded and noticed a faint look of relief in his eyes. “Now we will begin. Izotz, you have been called here, before the Council, to determine the limits of your connection with Lietha. Koldobika told me that you were able to banish a demon Lord—banishment being a feat of magic which none other than a gathering of unicorns was ever able to enforce. Though I trust you—from what I have thus far seen of your judgment—it has been deemed necessary to have you tested—and that, frankly—for the safety of every living thing.

"A few of the Council members—whose names I will not mention—are worried that you will turn against the free peoples, or—some have even gone as far as to say—that Zigor has already taken control of your soul." This he said with complete disgust, and though he did not single anyone out, it was obvious that he was displeased with at least one of his fellow councilmen. I was dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of the suggestion that I was under Zigor's influence. The King had sworn to take my life—there was no way he could circumvent the powers of Lietha for long enough to bring me under his control.

I said nothing, and let the members of the Council sit in obvious discomfort as the silence continued on. Finally, the dragoman voiced the question that was flitting about in my own mind: “How do we go about testing his abilities?”

“I do not know,” came Basajaun’s reply, the words sounded condemning to me. “Do you?”

I looked to the dragonman, as did the entire Council. “Make him bring back the dead.” A few shocked, and angry, responses came from the others of the Council, but the dragonman ignored them. “It is the only way I can see.”

“Raise the dead?” I asked skeptically. “I thought anyone who tried was turned into a Lietha stone.”

“Yes. We cannot risk losing him,” Alazne said; I was glad to have at least one person on my side.

“But we must know,” the dragonman, Erramun, demanded. "Banishments—which he has already proven capable of—were also known to destroy the spellcaster." A long and time-consuming argument then ensued; some agreed that it was worth the possibility of my death to find out whether or not I was all-powerful, while others were against putting my life—the life of the one whose destiny it was to bring the return of true peace—in danger, merely for the sake of satisfying the fears of a fool. I believe whoever said that had forgotten that it was Koldobika who had brought up the concern in the first place—at least, I hoped either that was the case, or they meant Erramun.

At the zenith of the argument, the dragonman stood and walked over to me. He was ranting as if he had gone mad; a snarl was fixed on his face as he yelled at me and demanded that I attempt to bring someone back from the dead. When I refused, he attacked. Since I would be put to death for bringing a weapon into existence within the Circle of the Council, I had to defend myself with nothing but magic—not that that was much of a hindrance. The dragonman flew into the air and dove at me from above, his lethal sword held ready to strike me down. Given a lack of options, I forced some air into a hardened disc, and sent it flying at Erramun. The force of the disc sent the man flying backward as the front of his chest was torn open, as if by invisible hands, and his blood sprayed in every direction, splattering the people below, as his lifeless body thudded to the ground.

The members of the Council each had to assure themselves of the fact that the man was actually dead, rather than just stunned or unconscious. When they were sure of his state, they turned back to me, ready to decide whether or not my actions deserved death, or life. Their attention only stayed focused on me for a few moments, before they were busy deciding amongst themselves what the outcome of the meeting would be. I zoned them out and had Erramun’s body float toward me on a blanket of air.

As I looked at the man’s face, still twisted in a snarl of hatred, I was sorely tempted to change my mind and not try what I was about to. Still, I knelt and began to heal the man’s wounds, then gathered the blood that had been expelled from his veins. After a moment of hesitation I called upon Lietha; I completely ignored the crowding Council as my mind spun the complicated web of magic I needed. With my eyes closed in concentration, I did not see what happened, though I knew something had, because the Council gasped in unison as my last spell took effect.

I opened my eyes to see that Erramun’s spirit had returned to his body. He glanced around as if dazed, and looked quite the opposite of the angry, cruel man he had been just minutes ago. I was proud of what I had just managed to do, but deep inside I knew that with it came much responsibility—after all, I was the only one with complete control of magic and access to Lietha. I held out my hand to the dragonman, but he pushed it away and crouched on bended knee before me.

“Forgive me; I did not believe you were the one whom the Ancients prophesied of.” I was shocked, in the least, to hear those words from the dragonman, but I could not help but believe that he meant them.

I held my hand back out to Erramun and said, “Neither did I—and I am still not entirely sure of it.” That time he accepted my hand and rose to his feet. The dragonman slapped his hand onto my shoulder.

“I know you are the one. I have just been told by a source which I can in no way disbelieve.” He spoke so softly that it was impossible for any of the others to have heard. I dipped my head in gratitude of the man’s words, then we turned to look at Basajaun, as he stood before his stone seat, raising his arms before him, calling the attention of the Council to himself.

“From the events we have just witnessed, we now know that Itzal Izotz is powerful in the extreme, and that should force those of us who previously did not, to believe that he is the one of the prophecies. Furthermore, he is in no danger of death sentence, for the man he killed within the Circle is no longer dead.”

“Ah, but can we trust him?” Gurutze, the dwarf woman asked, with that mischievous light still in her eyes.

Before I could say anything, the giantess spoke up. “We could have him swear by his blood and life to eternally do the bidding of the Council.” Not many members of the Council seemed to agree entirely with the idea of the giantess, for which I was grateful, but some of them did seem partial to it, at least for safety measures. I found it strange to hear Erramun right next to me disagreeing, full- heartedly. It was a glad thing that he no longer seemed to loathe me.