Scars of the Past
THE TRIAL BEGINS
Tarilaous, Bragolous, and Condrator, grieve and say farewell to Drakasor at the tomb.
Late into the night they sit and talk of Ramsor. “It has been voted that Ramsor will become master dragon. My son is weak but I have faith that he will complete his quest. I, myself, will hide the crystal. If Garilaous fails, the crystal will be lost forever. Castargan will fall to into the hands of Sequeller because of Ramsor’s wickedness. Our only hope is Garilaous and the prophesied one. You, my dearest friends, must ensure the trust of all Adalamon’s forces. Tell them, in secret, that Garilaous will go on his journey and prove that he is master. Go, now before they fall under Ramsor’s evil rule” states Tarilaous.
Bragolous and Condrator take leave into the night to alert Adalamon and his men.
Tarilaous wakes Garilaous. “My son, Ramsor has slain Drakasor. The council is divided. Ramsor has been voted to be master dragon. Castargan lies in grave danger. Only you can prevent its ruin. You must depart this night to Elispurahn and seek out the wizard there. He will give guidance to your cause. Go the long way through the woods past Brastabur and Nalaria. Cross the Eydbyrga Woodlands to Lake Sapheria lest you fall prey to Sequeller in the wastelands. Remain watchful for those whose join with Sequeller.”
THE SOUL SEEKERS
With the morning comes strained deliberation. Kasandriana pulls her blanket closer around herself in an attempt to conceal herself from the recent events that brought her here. Shivers run through her already chilled and aching body. The deliberate dampness of the moist forest seeps into her bones. Questions endlessly flow through her mind. She relentlessly tries to search out some sensible explanation concerning the spiralling blue light that swallowed her and tossed her into such a strange wilderness. Why would Adalamon risk his life to save hers? He could quite easily take the sword and leave her to whatever fate she may stumble across in the wilderness. Adalamon certainly appears honourable, but why risk his life? She trembles as she recollects the seriousness in his voice when he spoke about Sequeller. Kasandriana doesn’t find any easy answers.
The early morning dampness and chattering force her to move towards the men and take a place close by the fire. The much needed warmth pushes the chills away as she sips on a warm bitter drink made from berries. Her body craves nourishment as she hungrily tears a piece of dried meat with her teeth in an attempt to quickly replace strength she lost yesterday.
Kasandriana listens in on the group of men who joined the camp long after she drifted into sleep during the night. “Beware of the soul seekers. They are leading unwary travellers into the Woods of Lost Souls. Four of your men have fallen prey to them during the night. Tarilaous sent warning that
Ramsor is voted master dragon and now unites with Sequeller. Tarilaous requests our alliance.”
“Where is Garilaous that Ramsor should stand in his place?”
“The Council of Seven took vote. Garilaous cannot fly nor can he breathe fire. Tarilaous would not vote for his own son. Drakasor could not speak against his own son and now he lays murdered by his own seed. The vote favours Ramsor and now the council is divided. Tarilaous has sent Garilaous to the wizard in the faith that he will succeed and take his rightful place. Ramsor has joined with Sequellor and now the realm is in grave danger. Tarilaous left Castargan last night vowing to guard the crystal.”
Adalamon’s mind is distressed with the report; his face serious with wordless foreboding. Moments pass before he speaks. “We have to keep travelling. We will move quickly by day and make camp at night. Kasandriana, stay near! Alert one of the men if you must take leave for a time. Let’s make haste now!”
Terror pulls at every nerve in Kasandriana’s body, she is now fully awake with thoughts she never imagined contemplating.
Adalamon advises his group of men who brought the report: “Go safely on your way now. Make the best of day. If you cross paths with Tarilaous vow to him our allegiance.”
Hours pass as Adalamon and his men ride rapidly through the thick woods. Dusk arrives quickly now and shadows appear to be moving as the men keep a watchful eye on their surroundings. Kasandriana’s fear forms a heavy weight inside her chest. Breathing becomes tense and conscious. Her body feels like it is placed within a vice and she can not move. Without warning a snarling wolf darts out from the shadows. Horses instinctively bolt and throw riders mercilessly to the ground. Adalamon tries to steady his horse. The horse fights against control and hurls his master to the rocky ground. Kasandriana struggles to remain on her horse that hurtles into the dark woods. Kasandriana buries her head in its mane seeking safety from the branches that whip across her relentlessly.
The wolf is on Adalamon almost immediately. Sharp teeth sink into his arm as he protects his face. Adalamon shoves his arm as far as he can into the vicious mouth while he reaches down with his other hand and grabs his knife from a pouch around his waist. With a swift thrust and pull into the wolf’s neck crimson blood flows freely. The wolf releases his grasp and collapses on Adalamon. Adalamon rises to his feet as quickly as he can.
“Men get the horses! Kasandriana’s horse has taken her that way. Find her before dark!”
Adalamon uses his sharp sense of detection to trace Kasandriana. His father was a legendary tracker and taught Adalamon to notice even the smallest variation in tracks. Adalamon stops where the bush is flattened and small branches lay bent and broken where she fell. The ground is well trampled. Blood covers the twigs a bright red. He looks thoroughly at the imprints she left behind. Several large round blood stains on the pebbles tell him her leg is badly wounded. He knows she is moving slowly and painfully by the way her right footprint is larger and spread across the dirt. He examines the newer leaves that have fallen. He understands that she passed this spot a few hours ahead of him by the decay on the crushed leaves. He follows her movements with great concern. She not only has to fear the soul seekers but also ravenous wolves. His heart beats faster as he perceives the terrible danger she is in.
Kasandriana struggles to go on. Her leg is starting to bleed more from the continuous scraping of sharp branches and thorns against her wound. She must find a secure place to spend the night. Exhausted she stumbles through the brush and into a small clearing. A hooded figure sits on a fallen half decayed log. She listens to the verse he is singing. He sings verses in honour of the heroic achievements of a brave man who hunted and tracked in the woods. Kasandriana thinks about Adalamon’s tales of his father. The mystic bard must be singing of Adalamon’s father. Relief floods through her and she quickens her pace towards him. She should be safe here.
“Come my child, sit here and rest awhile. Why are you alone in these woods?”
“I was with Adalamon and his men when a wolf frightened our horses. My horse reared and I held fast. I was taken through the woods until my horse threw me. I have been seeking safety from the soul seekers.”
“You will find safety here. I know of Adalamon. His father was a slayer of Sequeller’s followers. Here, hold this cloth against your wound and I will sing to you of his triumphs.”
Kasandriana listens intently while he sings of heroic deeds. She feels more and more secure. Every now and then he stops and talks to her about Adalamon’s father. Kasandriana is more at ease every moment. The bard convinces Kasandriana to sing with him. She feels mesmerized by the verses. She sings with him.
The bard speaks again to Kasandriana.
“It was true that Adalamon’s father was a hero but he did not always follow the right way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sequeller was the rightful one to sit as high priestess but Porcella seized the hawk from her. Guardianship of the crystal and control of the realm were given to the beasts. Saros alone kept Aracalis. Porcella bewitched Saros. In all her splendour she reserved his heart for her own will. Saros recognized that the two sisters proved equally well in their invocations and spells. It was Porcella’s beauty that betrayed Saros into choosing her as high priestess.
Adalamon’s father did not know this and though his battles were fearless and brave he fought against the rightful ruler.”
“Then why do men fear Sequeller so?”
“Is it not right that she should fight for her throne? If it were you what would you sacrifice? It is only those who fight against her who come to their bitter end. Those that take allegiance with her fare well.”
“There may be truth in what you say, but surely Adalamon would know this. His heart is noble in his deeds.”
“Listen while I sing of Adalamon’s father and how he fought Sequeller. Adalamon, like his father, was deceived by Porcella’s spell. Listen also while I sing of Sequeller’s sorrow. What is it to lose so many faithful followers and have them slain by such a mighty hand? She fights only for what is hers.”
Castergan sleeps in darkness tonight
Adalamon seeks the crystal this night
He like his father, you must beware
He brings upon us much despair
His father battled three years a night
A terrible battle to the last fight
The crystal to Sequeller belongs
You are the one to undo these great wrongs
Your soul is the sacrifice, you must obey
Come with me now this very day
Truth shall be yours with knowledge and power
Surrender yourself and the one in the tower
Sequeller, the queen, she does await
She is the one to seal your sweet fate
Sequeller the priestess she must prevail
Adalamon’s quest like his father must fail
Kasandriana listens, but she also observes a small irritable change in his left eye. It glazes over to hide some sinister plot and closes half-way to conceal the truth. Something unsettling stirs within her as she notices faint facial changes. Unconsciously she grasps the sword tighter in her hand. The sword feels like a part of her, no more separate than her arms or her legs. The bard continues to sing:
These are the woes
The darkness does bring
Porcella, Sequeller united and learned
Till came the day when Porcella had turned
Light into dusk and dusk into night
She blinded the wizard, she took his great sight
And that which was lost
Was too great a cost
Porcella became priestess on high
Sequeller was right to reign I imply
The crystal was taken by rightful heir
Caedamon came then fought with her there
The great battle lasted and light up the skies
For three years, a day, nothing but sighs
He stole the great crystal, that which was lost
The price he had paid, was such a great cost
He lies in the mountain, his coffin so deep
The Council of Seven, they watch him sleep
Adalamon now, the heir of his loins
With Porcella the priestess, he does adjoin
They conspire together to seek that was lost
Again will the price be too great a cost
Sequeller is rightful priestess beware
She sets out her plan, she sets up her snare
Intuition screams at her to flee.
Sensing this, the bard stands, towering over her. “Follow me, there’s a camp of Adalamon’s men just on the other side of the clearing.”
Fear rises into Kasandriana’s throat as she senses danger. “I must move on now before darkness comes.”
His bearded face grows darker and more sinister looking. Wrinkles deeper than furrows in a pasture begin to line his face. Ancient black eyes peer at her like a hungry wolf. His jaws open showing rows of malformed teeth. Her throat goes dry and she stands up slowly then abruptly bolts into the clearing. Her heart pounds faster in her chest and her throat tightens so no scream escapes. The bard flashes in front of her like a shot of lightening. He grabs her as his face turns to wicked rage. In this one moment light turns to darkness and the certainty of evil is known. Instinctively Kasandriana draws back her arm and with a burst of rekindled energy she swings it across the bard separating his head from his body.
Kasandriana immediately feels faint. Her face turns as pale as the moon on a cold winters evening and she slumps to the ground. Kasandriana descends into darkness.
Kasandriana eventually wakes to a cold wetness against her face. Confused and frightened she struggles to get up but her body does not co operate. She rests on the ground trying to gain some momentum. Her horse nudges his cool moist nose against her face. Slowly she reaches over to his reigns and pulls herself up. Her body is sucked dry of allenergy. Cold, hungry and tired she mounts her horse and allows him to take her where he will. She has no idea in which direction she should go. Hopefully her horse knows.
Somewhere Kasandriana falls between a sleepy daze and a foggy awareness.
Adalamon fights against time. Cool shadows quickly transform into anxious shadows of the forthcoming darkness. She stopped here for a time, shifting her feet frequently. The indentation of her left foot is much deeper. He knows she is in trouble. Her leg still bleeds. Blood droplets accumulate and smear where her right leg attempts to bare weight but surrenders over and over again to her left leg. How much longer can she go on?
Adalamon continues to follow crushed dirt clods and vegetation that she brushed against and damaged in her movements. Kasandriana’s wound is slowing down her pace. He is almost thankful for this. Maybe he can reach her before nightfall. The forest dampness is beginning to saturate through his clothing. He quickens his pace.
The clearing is more of a warning for Adalamon. Kasandriana made her entrance here. Longer strides meant she quickened her pace. He follows her footsteps steps to the log. His heart stops for a moment as he makes out two sets of prints that divulge they sat here for a long time. Her footprints tell him she left running with the unknown enemy after her. Immediately he rushes in the same direction following the trail of blood. Her leg bleeds more as she runs. Blood droplets splat and trail off into narrow points. Adalamon stops. The Bard’s severed head lays a few feet from the body. Fear squeezes Adalamon’s heart and his throat swells. Slowly he scans the entire area looking for evidence that the Bard’s other adversaries may have slaughtered Kasandriana, or worse yet, taken her soul. Nothing moves. He manages one breath and then another. He takes a few steps and sees where Kasandriana fell. Around her form imprinted in the grass are horse prints. He knows it’s her horse and for a moment he is relieved. She will be better able to avoid or contend those who seek the darkness. Relief is immediately replaced by a deeper fear. Suspicion Cavern is ahead and if she enters there for the night her mind may be lost forever.
Adalamon persists with desperate determination. His aching legs feel like lead weights. Every breath hurts his lungs, his chest feels like exploding. There is no such thing as quitting, he will die fighting if he needs to, but he will not quit.
Sounds of horse hoofs in the distance caution him to take cover in the nearby trees. He’s not sure he can make it but he knows he knows he has to for Kasandriana’s sake. Hiding low in the bushes, he listens to the thunderous pounding of the horses. He’s not sure which is louder: the pounding hoofs or the beating of his heart. He tries not to breathe as he touches his face to the cold damp earth where the musty smell of dirt fills his nostrils. If he dies now, Kasandriana will have no hope. Eternity passes slowly as horses circle him.
Footsteps crackle amongst the dry fallen twigs. Suddenly, strong rough arms lift Adalamon to an upright position and roughly tie his hands tightly behind his back. The soul seekers throw him over a horse like a worn out blanket. Adalamon has no strength left to fight. His eyes tire from the constant appearance of movement over the ground. His stomach aches; every gallop is like a giant fist in his abdomen. Knees feel like they are being bent and broken with every jolt. His head pulsates with pain. His throat is dry and aching.
Darkness arrives with terror. Adalamon fears there is no way out. Kasandriana is abandoned.
They stop and immediately toss Adalamon to the murky wet ground. He cannot make out his surroundings. The soul seekers were only silhouettes against a threatening sky. He fades in and out of sleep until the smell of camp fire and the sound of muffled voices alert him to his isolation. He asks himself, “Is this how I will die, without pride? Unlike my father I will die a contemptible failure?” He struggles to free his hands in his last effort to escape. Wrists tear with every twist against the rough rope. Wetness drips down his hands with every wrench. Adalamon resolves he will breathe his last breath gallantly. He prays death will come quickly.
Howling wolves swallow up the voices around the fire. Crisp branches snap in the forest and Adalamon wonders if the wolves are hungry tonight. His struggle is more desperate now. To be ripped apart by omnivorous jowls and not be able to defend him self is too much to think about. He decides it is better to rip both wrists from his arms than to allow demonic wolves to rip his flesh from his bones and viciously gorge themselves. Both wrists are torn and his blood flows freely as he continues to exert his feeble strength. He knows he is at a disadvantage and will die soon. With one last pull Adalamon lets out an agonizing moan as pain sears throughout every nerve in his body and he falls into unconscious.
A hushed voice calls out, “Adalamon?” “Adalamon, is that you?”
Adalamon floats back into consciousness and listens to the darkness believing he is close to death. He listens to his father calling him to the netherworld.
The voice calls again amidst the crackling of the forest floor, “Adalamon?”
“The wolves are very close now.” “Soon it will all be over.” “Kasandriana,” he mumbles.
“Adalamon?”
Something familiar about the voice alerts him. “Who’s there?”
“Adalamon it is I, Barak.”
“Here, over here. Come quickly my brother,” Adalamon replies with a raspy voice. The effort to respond makes Adalamon’s throat ache.
Barak quickly severs the rope and lifts Adalamon to his feet. Adalamon can not bare his own weight so Barak lifts him over his shoulder and runs into the forest to where the rest of the men wait. They are delighted to know he still lives. A cask of water is placed gently to his lips and Adalamon drinks avariciously greedily. Barak removes the cask to prevent him from becoming sick. Barak pulls apart some cloth and binds Adalamon’s bleeding rope burned wrists.
Adalamon mumbled from under his hoarse throat, “Suspicion Cavern.” “Kasandriana.”
Barak understood. “We will go now. You will ride with me.”
Barak boosts Adalamon onto the horse and mounts behind him.
The men hold their torches high enough to illuminate the dark ground. Adalamon wishes they could go faster but the horses and the men are tired. No good would be gained by wearing themselves out to utter exhaustion.
Torches flicker tossing eerie shadows on the pathway. Adalamon can not fight sleep any longer. He is almost glad as his eyes close in the safety of Barak’s arms. He falls into darkness and runs towards Kasandriana before she descends into the abyss. He tries to reach for her but he has no hands. She disappears and he weeps in the darkness.
THE AMULETTE
Garilaous travels slowly and cautiously through the Edbyrga Woodlands. Caution prevents him from making any fatal mistakes. He understands the consequence of failing in his quest. Nothing is more important than protecting the realm and the crystal. He will reach Mt Nalaria by early morning if he continues to travel cautiously. Aracalis watches as Ramsor stalks Garilaous and senses now is the time to bring the malachite to Garilaous. Aracalis spreads his wings and leaves his perch with a farewell call to Porcella. Porcella watches Aracalis from her garden and sends a small gust of wind to aid his flight.
Ramsor waits for the right moment to destroy the heir to the realm. His death must be swift and sure. Ramsor knows he can defeat Garilaous because he has the advantage of great skill while Garilaous is defenceless. He decides to wait until Garilaous is nearer to the wizard so it will appear he failed his quest. If those of the realm who pledge allegiance to Garilaous discover he was murdered they may not readily esteem the name Ramsor. Yes, he will wait.
Aracalis calls to Garilaous and soars in magnificent circles in the sky before coming to rest on a weathered stump. Aracalis allows the malachite to fall from his tight grip onto the stump.
“Aracalis my friend, what have you brought me?”
“Porcella sends this to you. Carve an amulet out of silver and place the stone therein. A prophesied one is coming and by this stone you will know each other. Wear the amulet around your neck. The stone holds no power Garlilaous. What must be done; must be done with your own strength and determination. Keep watch always for Ramsor seeks your demise.”
Aracalis takes to flight once more and lets out his cry as he soars into the sky towards his perch where he will continue his watch.
Garilaous takes the malachite and begins his search for the silver from which he will carve the amulet.
Written by Beverley Woznica
