Mystic Firestorm 2 Read online

  On her journey back to Fellowood she pondered the legacy which had been left to her by her mother, the Wishmagic. It bound them together in heart as well as spirit. The Wishmagic was embedded in white crystal that had been passed down from previous generations. A gift given from the ancient Elven race of long ago for a safe keep which had been entrusted to Deagian. It's exact purpose was unknown and for one to exploit its power meant some horrible death. Deagian kept it locked away and had never used it. She did not understand the Wishmagic nor its origin, but the crystal power would unfold in her darkest hour. Deagian accepted the privilege to use it to aid the stranger. She now held the wish of Shadowstill, a gift to safeguard one from harm, to make one a part of the shadow. The Wishmagic worked for only a short period of time. She guessed that it solely depended on her will, strength and faith to make it work. Never before had she needed to use it, but down deep inside her mind had told her that it was time. Time, she thought, an ongoing thing which never stops. As time marched forward so it had brought her to a specific fate the venture into Skydark. Deagian wondered what new nightmare of evil was unfolding. She witnessed death and destruction, hideous faces of strange beings. Those beings now emerged after centuries, Goblins. What were they doing at towers of Skydark? What evil magic would they bring to destroy the innocent and enslave the meek. What fate did they have intertwined with the Seekers? It was apparent this stranger was the key, his identity still hidden in the depths of his mind. Out of nowhere he appeared to bring forth an uncertain spelled doom which gave protestations of guttural fear. She felt disgruntled by foreshadowing of things to come. She knew that when she came to ask permission of the Wishmagic that she would be forsaking everything. This unintelligible understanding did not seem to pester her line of reasoning. The journey to Skydark needed to be done whether she liked it or not. Just as her ancestors before her used their magic to aid those against the forces of evil, so would she. Just as they sacrificed their lives and families for the cause of good, so would she. As she neared the portal to freedom, she draped her hand softly on the gray rock. A smile brushed over her red lips and eyes glimmered knowingly. It was this place where her mother could be called to help her. The Mohr held unpleasant memories as well, a longing to hold her mother once again, to feel her mentor's flesh and bone. Deagian wished it that way down deep inside but knew that her mother was bound for the small promise of the Wishmagic. It was for this very reason she only made the journey when a danger approached, or a problem was unresolved. It was to this place their souls shared each other’s company, only for a fleeting moment breathing life into the things to come. Deagian left the Mohr and stepped down onto the twisting dirt path. She vanished into the shadows with an uncertain journey. She felt her heart sadden as she said goodbye to her mother, never knowing if their paths would cross again.

  Just before the break of dawn she approached the wooden suspension bridge. The soft churning of River Gray ran softly southward into the unknown regions of Hell Scape. A jolting memory flashed of the dark forbidding creatures that had marched up the river. The shadow of the Deviling was etched in the same exact spot she had crossed into its path. A strange sensation overwhelmed her senses as fighting fear rose. They were going to Skydark. They would be the danger of which her mother had spoken about. The image of crimson fire ran forward in her mind as she felt a deep chill. The forest became still as she stepped onto the bridge. She walked over and below at the edge of the river was a dark cloaked figure. It was human-like as it stared up at her. She felt mesmerized by its sight. The thing lifted up its arm and a skeletal bone extended at her with burning fire. She gasped in fear and reeled her body back. She ran as the entire sky lightened along with smooth extending warmth on her back. The warmth grew into an uncomfortable steady burn and increased as she ran to the other side. She leapt as the bridge exploded into roaring flames. The trees on every side singed in an instant as the flames scorched the shattered boards. Bolts and beams fell into the white waters and floated downstream with red fire flaring viciously against the elements of nature. Smoke billowed into the sky.

  Deagian was gone.

  SIX

  When Gweyn turned to see the bulk rise from the water Allenor had appeared before her. He lashed the Sludgerunner with a blast of blue fire. The Mystic unleashed the full impact of his power into the creature. It had come crashing down on top of the Mystic. Allenor rose a second later, his face bloody and weary from the release of tremendous power. Gweyn had not realized what incredible power he had commanded with his mystical magic. She remembered the blue fire which now faded at the flickering of a small campfire. It was here that fate would turn, and he would rescue Gweyn and two children after escaping Mystic Domain. She was a lovely woman with a strange accent and blonde hair, green eyes, red rosy cheeks. She wore a black cloak that was frayed on the bottom and her hunting garb was dirty. She was fleeing the monsters that were destroying the Six Providences. She had come to a pond where a river emptied into when the attack from the creature through her off guard.

  Something missing in Allenor’s life haunted him and he knew what it was, companionship. He had known love in his younger days, but relationships were hard to come by while being an apprentice Mystic during the time of the Zandu War. He had traveled far and was tired form the journey and knew it was only truly beginning. They would have to face foes that were trying to destroy them. The guilt of Jarret’s downfall haunted him also. He should have left the boy in Laurel when he found him. Now his human demise was happening, and he would become the new leader of the Crimson Seekers. He wanted to find a way to save him, but his failure haunted him. Maybe that was why he latched onto Gweyn. He needed to save some lives, innocents.

  It had been one whole day since they had left the underground city of Athenon. Impassable Breach’s memory faded behind them, but the orated destruction of Sunken Valley trailed alongside in a crimson wake. Allenor returned as she finished sipping a warm cup of water. He sat down with his mind in passive memories of green golden life that was now gone from the valley. The fate and direction of the others were unknown. The outcropping forests of Sunken Valley could be seen burning into the night. The wake appeared to rush into the Craggy Mountain, spreading south into the Midlands. The major portion of the blaze was running directly into Dragons Spine. Gweyn leaned back and closed her eyes. Since the day's journey they had not rested, but the Mystic had seen her frail condition and set up camp. There, she had slept for a few fleeting hours among the great torrent of flickering flame and black smoke that silhouetted the entire Midland. Examining the lands east, she noticed bright bursts of light that danced along the northern edge of Darkcanyon. She clasped her hands and put them over the fire.

  “It burns so brightly,” she ventured to break the loneliness of the night.

  “The magic of the Seekers has begun. They are sweeping toward the Snap. In a wave of fire, they will destroy this land.” He turned worriedly; face taunted against the Dragons Spine.

  “What burdens your mind?” she hesitated at first to ask, but the words just fell from her troubled lips.

  “The company most likely went toward the Craggy Mountains. They may have been captured by the dark ones.”

  “Captured?” she rose. “Are you positive?”

  “The fire spreads and is difficult to douse. The black magic makes it so. If only I had acted expeditiously.”

  She crouched up and stride next to her companion. In a soft gesture she sat down and grasped his hand. His first reaction was to withdraw, but the gentleness begged him to keep hold.

  “I have faith that they will make it to the Snap,” she managed as the flickering light darkened.

  “The Seekers must have recovered the broken blade for their power to be so unstoppable. We are racing against time, it is a race that we shall loose,” his hardened face twisted down into the firelight.

  “Is there a way to find them?” Gweyn continued to hold his rough hand. “Anything we could do?”

 
“Possibly, but it would risk our lives.”

  “Do what needs be.” She released his hand and nodded him to go forward.

  “You have a strong heart, Gweyn. Perhaps, I have made mine a block of stone. Perhaps, I have failed in this mission; it may be too late for all of us.” He stared bleakly into the fire and rubbed his tired face. Firelight flickered off the harsh brown eyes and crooked jaw his mind filled with indecision.

  “Maybe, maybe not. I shall not give up hope in finding my two children. I cannot foresee as you have been given the gift, but I can hope. Where else everything fails there is love.”

  A sudden remembrance parked deep inside Allenor's heart as memories flashed of an innocence long lost to the strange ways of mysticism.

  “Shall you risk your life, Gweyn? Shall you walk into the very flame of evil to rescue them? Do you fear the Seekers?”

  She shook with tension and turned her face directly to his, their eyes meet for an instant, his cold and dark, hers uncertain and gentle with a womanly spirit. “So, I shall.”

  “Then it shall be done!” Allenor rose and brought her over to the fire. He knelt down on one side at the leaping flames and she on the other. He murmured a few distant words and eyes lifted up to the blackened sky. Gweyn sat there watching him passively in hope of some miracle.

  “Give me your hand? Trust fully in me. Trust and remember your children. The feelings you have deep inside. Throw away anger, fear and regret. Rejoice and watch! Fear nothing Gweyn, fear-nothing!”

  Allenor grasped her hand as she held his over the licking flames. She felt the walls of fear raising in defense as her eyes widened, He was bringing their hands closer to the flames. She went to hesitate, but his harsh grip squeezed with a kind of gentleness, a reassurance of trust and safety. She nodded as a small sense of power rushed through her. Allenor whispered the strange words and the flames exploded into a rushing wall. The flames spread across and engulfed them as the blue aura rushed forth. The red was calmed and dissipated as the flame flared down and they held their hands in the very heart of the fire. It was then that fire changed, and an image rushed forth. Patch and Aaron were holding Tullamore's hand as Flicker parted some underbrush. Patch turned at the smooth expression of Gweyn sensing the touch of her heart. Gweyn felt a longing reach out in the image, which was fading, a tear of Gweyn’s slid helplessly down. It was then the cold harsh passage of the Snap loomed. Within the image, thousands of torchlights blocked the passageway. Suddenly a blaze of fire seared the sky and whole valley exploded into crimson red. The image faded and Allenor and Gweyn drew back from the flames their hands untouched by the blue flame.

  “The Snap. He’s leading them into the middle of the assault.”

  “What can we do?” she rubbed her hands feeling the strange after-effects dance through her bones.

  “We go south.” He decided.

  “Away from the Snap?”

  “To River Run. We will journey along it and get help from Sleigh Mish. You will remain there while I get some help to find the others. We must leave now.”

  “Allenor, where will you go after the Snap?”

  In his dark manner he had hesitated giving her this piece of information, it was not for her to know, but some voice inside his mind told her to reveal the answer. His sixth sense spoke deeply to him as he turned to her. It had been time to reveal the entire legacy to her. His strained eyes gleamed at the dying fire and stared directly east.

  “My journey leads me to Skydark. It is there I must find the answers of what I seek. This journey is not meant for you Gweyn. It is meant for only a few and somehow you have become entangle in its fate, but I shall protect you and see you to safety.”

  “What is Skydark?” She had never heard of it before and the name enthralled her curiosity to seek out this unknown legend, but he simply left her without answer. She ignored his way and rose.

  Neither one spoke as their journey south had begun.

  The night carried them down the confines of River Run. It's long winding passage flowed southeast into the Dragons Spine, down past the Green Mountains and into Skydark. The river was lower than usual because of the lack of rain for the autumn season. The sun would be rising to greet a new day, one with much despair and sadness. Allenor knew that the entire northern edge of the Midlands was now laid to waste. The Seekers were moving east consuming timberland, villages and life. The shallows reflected the stark movement of life within the stream itself, dead fish and animals were rotting along the river’s edge. Gweyn noticed the great amount of pollutants that appeared to be at the sandy riverbanks.

  “They've marched this way,” Allenor said coldly.

  “What will happen if the Seekers gain the other half of the blade? What if they find the one you seek?” Gweyn stride behind his long dark shadow. He winded around trees and continued down the sandy path. The path outcropped at the foot of giant oaks that hung over the enticing waters. The small ripples of left traces of silver along the riverbanks as Allenor knelt down and placed his hand in the water.

  “They must reunite the blade. The dark lords are at the same disadvantage as we are. They must go to Skydark and obtain the information from the Book of Power. In its ancient lore it shall speak of the long-forgotten magic. The ancient Elven magic will transcend the lost secrets of the Hearthstone Sword. It will sing of the promise, of light and of dark. It holds the key to a passing age, world of old to a world of new, one, which the Seekers may rule. What the dark ones fail to recognize is that it holds the secret of the Hearthstone's destruction. The blade must be reunited, and the Promise restored. There is only one who may do this, the Protector.” He washed his face as Gweyn listened to his fading sentence. The entire task could easily be visualized in her mind, but where was the Protector? She winced at the unfolding burden of Allenor. They had to once again recover the blade and then reunite it. Time was against them and with an impending doom that Allenor had previously spoken about, the Book of Power. It was protected within the fortress of Skydark. The history had been one of memories for Allenor, now lost and gone forever. This had been the fortress of the great wizards. Just as the Mystic's Domain had been in the Westlands, such was the same for the Eastland’s and Skydark. He had studied there as a young apprentice, full of life and spirit. Skydark had hidden the ultimate secrets of strange magic’s, not of just humankind, but of Faerie, Gnomes, Dwarves and the Druid's of nature. The races had secured the secrets of life and death and bind them in a strange magical tapestry for all lifetime. On ancient scrolls the spells and incantations of life and death were transcribed. Through the spell weaving of the ancient Kings, the magic’s of Gnome, Dwarf, Elven, Druid and Wizard were forged into reality, a visible written legacy to be passed down to the generations. It remained the very essence of life, a foundation to humankind's origin, long before the race of Faerie. They had uncovered the essence of the world, of what had brought the spirit of life to all humankind, A Promise had been made between the Faerie and the races for a safekeeping of life. Thus, the book bound the people to the world and world to the people. With the creation of the Book of Power came the ability to control the chaotic forces of evil. It was with the magic that they looked away the impending darkness. This darkness was then cast into a timeless star, a void in which the evil found no escape. The Races then went onto discover that the evil had found a rift, it had found an untapped power which was brought forth to destroy the world. The race of Faerie marched forth against the demon armies and defeated the power. In the final battle the race knew that in order for the world to continue that they would have to sacrifice their magic in order for the future generations to survive. The great Transformations occurred, and the final battle raged. In a last hope the Faerie called upon the most powerful magic’s in their possession. The Gift of Power was bestowed with a great price, to sacrifice themselves, to be the eternal guardians of the light. The race of Faerie was drawn into the void, the star of eternal life. They were established as the guardians, holding to
the Promise and binding the races to their legacy - Elven magic. The race of Faerie balanced the forces of good and evil and kept the world protected. It was with great hindsight that the ancient race left the world with the Promise and gave freely of the magic. In return, the races of the Transformation were to serve only for the essence of life, to serve each other. It was a simple gift, which had been bestowed. It was only when the keepers hoarded the magic’s, corrupted themselves in disastrous ways and created weapons of dark magic to self-serve had the Promise been broken. The magic’s had been forged into weapons, with weapons came enslavement of the meek and the destruction and discrimination of humankind. Only then did the Transformations divide the Faerie into races.”

  Allenor's explanations was overwhelming and at the same time sad because of the failures of humankind. The entire creation of the Seekers came from the corrupt magic of the broken Hearthstone. The sword had been cracked when the ancient demon, Grim Wraith who wished to destroy the elven boy, Dayven. Thus, the blade was cracked and the spectral returned to the depths of the netherworld to summon and bring forth the powers of hell, a crimson fire. Gweyn knew the immediacy of the mission, she understood his isolation, a life binding him to the land in an ancient legacy. As time dwindled down to nothing so did their chances of stopping the Seekers.

  The multicolored leaves blew around as the first of dawns light shed through the gripping night. A new day emerged and with it the sky filled with ashes and soot from a burning, wave of destruction which swept eastward. Allenor knew that boy had retrieved the broken blade and gained the power. His heart hardened and turn into itself with unending guilt. He enlisted Jarret to take on the mission and now the boy was lost. Black magic captured and weave its spell within the Mystic's Domain, controlling his will. His life sacrificed and altered by a horrible fate. The ascent into tie insidious world of the Seekers broke his spirit. No magic would bring the boy back, he had become one of them. Allenor's gut instinct incessantly gnawed for revenge, but something else gave him a different kind of notion. Jarret was strong willed, and it would take more than the dark magic to break his soul.