The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (14 page)

The two Mazazuken kept their distance from
Seth for their own amusement, knowing that the human was no match
for their powers. Seth's haste was considered an insult, and he had
to be stopped, but patience was the key for the Mazazuken to take
down this particular prey.

Off into the shadows Seth Highbinder ran,
giving the last of his waning strength to the cause. His chosen
path crossed many others, but he never strayed from where his feet
carried him--this was not a time for second guesses. In the
distance he saw a flickering light, which inspired in him a
much-needed burst of extra power.

At long last he had found his companions.
Only one last obstacle lay in his way--a great tree trunk lying in
thick mud on the forest floor. He would have to jump well over six
feet to clear it. "Almost there," he whispered. In a moment he
would have reinforcements to balance the battle with the Mazazuken.
But he could see no signs of movement within the campsite. He ran
toward the down log, planted his feet, and leaped as high as he
could, reached upward, and pulled, dislodging a chunk of bark. He
was over. He looked to the ground below, but then his focus blurred
as he collided with an unknown assailant. Tackled in midair, he hit
the ground hard, wrapped tightly in the arms of a gray-furred
beast. The two rolled through puddles of water and mud until,
stopped at last, the enemy pushed off Seth's body and tumbled away,
disappearing into the darkness.

Seth stood upright and shook his head,
trying to dispel the daze. The forest and the firelight blended as
if seen through smoked glass, and he could not distinguish
anything. His sword fell from his grasp and splashed into the water
at his boots as a nauseating pain clenched his stomach. Giving in
to the weakness, Seth collapsed in the mud, where he drifted in and
out of consciousness, unable to move as he struggled with his inner
self. Had he really come all this way only to fall victim to the
Mazazuken?

Chapter Six: A True Fire

As soon as the four left their presence,
Geil, Muron, and Lorn heard more foreign sounds coming from the
forest. Geil took up his sword and quickly took Muron's sword from
the saddle. Lorn looked at both elves with weapons in hand, and it
was suddenly apparent to the elves that this dwarf was unarmed. It
baffled Muron and Geil to see a member of the Dwarvish race, even
one from Beowulken, without a weapon, and Lorn wished now that he
had a sword or ax. Without a word, Geil drew a small dirk from his
belt. It was fourteen inches in length and rarely used by the
elf-knight, kept only as a side arm. The elf handed it promptly to
Lorn, who gazed in wonder at its beauty. The hilt was golden with a
red-jeweled pommel, with a few elvish letters burned into the
blade, though naturally, the dwarf could not read them.

Muron assumed a ready position, yet Geil,
noticing that it lacked the form he had been taught, adjusted his
stance.

"Use this weapon well, dwarf," Geil said.

"I shall use it to the best of my abilities,"
replied Lorn. "It is a splendid tool."

"In times of trouble it will protect you."
Geil maintained his place by the prince, and as the elves turned
their senses to the night, Lorn drew in behind the two, having no
inkling what to do. As unseemly as it was, he had to rely on the
strength and skill of the elves, and he trusted them
completely.

"Whatever you need me to do," Lorn said, "I
will do it. Though I am not a fierce warrior as you are, I can
follow instructions well enough."

"Offer accepted," Geil answered. "Remain
close by, and you will continue on this journey Randor has planned
for us."

"Agreed." Lorn held the dirk tightly. Muron
gestured for him to mimic his actions, and though Lorn found
Muron's technique most uncomfortable, especially in the arms, he
kept the weapon pointed toward the heavens as his heart sank in
fear.

"Should we follow after the others?" Muron
asked. "Something tells me all is not well with my brother….It is a
strange feeling. I wish it would go away."

"I am ordered to stay here with you and the
dwarf," Geil replied sternly. "This is my only intention until
Prince Arnanor issues my next command. Our belongings also need
tending, young master."

"My brother is far more important than
anything else in this world. These horses and miscellaneous
possessions hold no meaning by comparison. Supplies can be
replaced…" Muron paused, growing emotional. "My brother cannot
be."

Suddenly, from behind the three came a loud
noise that sounded like a gasp of air, followed by a sustained
sliding sound as of something colliding with muddy ground. Spinning
around, they saw a tall, slender figure rise from behind the brush,
swaying from side to side as they looked on in new wonder.

"What is that?!" Muron asked, horrified,
holding his shaking sword outward.

"Who goes there?" Lorn yelled.

"Silence, both of you!" ordered Geil.

"Seth? Is that you?" Lorn asked, hoping that
it was.

"Quiet, dwarf!" Geil blasted. "A torch,
quickly!" Lorn grabbed a long blazing brand from the fire and
passed it across his body. The flames guttered and crackled as they
cut through the air and the brand made its way to Geil's outreached
hand. Holding the torch high, the elf saw a blue-cloaked figure
with blond hair caked in mud. Then, in a blinking of an eye, it
dropped to the ground.

"Seth!" Lorn cried out. "Dear me, he's
hurt."

Geil rushed to the side of the stricken
knight and knelt down, placing his sword hand on Seth's shoulder
armor, which had been knocked loose by the violent tumble. "Where
are the others?"

But Seth spoke not, his mind still muddled
from the attack. He rubbed his forehead, and Geil grew agitated and
asked again, "Where are the others, Seth? Where is Prince Arnanor?
Tell me!"

"One mile…roughly, away from here…atop a
hill."

"Does the prince still live?"

Seth could only nod as he laid his head back
in the mud. "Maza…" Seth began. Geil cringed and awaited the rest
of the foul word. "Mazazuken have come."

Geil rose with his sword--his hatred for
these creatures ran much deeper than Arnanor's. Now he debated
whether to keep his oath to stay at the camp, stewing in resentment
all the while, or seek revenge against the Mazazuken. This was a
chance to settle scores in the drawn-out struggle between the elves
and the wolves. He hated that he was not in a position of
authority, for many of his fellow knights had fallen in battle
against the Mazazuken clan, and any opportunity to serve up death
and destruction to his enemy was not to be passed up lightly.
Looking down at Seth's ashen face, he heard the distinct sound of
wood cracking nearby. "Looks like you led the Mazazuken back to
me." Geil smiled and swung his sword down, rousing his spirit to
slaughter the evil. "Where is the prince?" Seth looked around
himself and pointed weakly to the southeast, then coughed and held
his aching chest.

"Geil!" Muron's small voice rang, filled with
fright. Imagining the terrible things that could be happening
during his short departure, Geil dashed back to the fire.

Lorn and Muron were standing as close to the
fire as they could bear. As Geil returned, three large werewolves
slunk between the company and their steeds, who became restless and
moved about, neighing wildly in fear. Though the three Mazazuken
were mighty, they did not compare to Yindraken. Gray fur covered
them completely, and their eyes glowed red as their master's did.
As two of them dug their claws deep into the wet earth, preparing
to spring, the third stood upright and stared menacingly ahead.

"Which direction did they come from?" Geil
asked, dumbfounded. He tossed the torch back into the fire and held
the hilt of his sword with both hands. "Mazazuken," he hissed.

"I saw not their direction," Muron regretted.
"We both were distracted by Seth's return. Before we knew what
occurred, they were upon us." The prince lowered his head in shame.
"All I could do was cry for help. I am sorry. I knew not what to
do."

"You have encountered Mazazuken before," Geil
replied sharply.

"Great, mighty gods!"

"Calm yourself, Muron. They can sense your
fear."

The Mazazuken knew of these particular elves,
and it amused them that revenge would be theirs at long last. The
radiating fear given off by Lorn and Muron fed their boldness until
the only thing that kept them from attacking was their leader's
command.

"I wish Seth were here," Lorn said with
fading hope. "We are doomed."

"Why do you come to this place?" Geil asked.
Knowing that the Mazazuken had not followed them from the Northern
Kingdom, the elf-knight began to connect answers with questions he
had been asking himself for months. Seconds passed with no response
from the beasts.

"Perhaps they do not understand," Lorn
suggested.

Geil laughed and shook his head. "They
know many languages, Lorn. Do not let their ignorance fool you." He
decided to use his primary tongue, knowing it would get their
attention.
"Malor dei fon drafon
Maza?"
Geil waited.

"Malar xandror tui
falcre!"
the leader of the trio replied in laughter,
his fiendish voice invading the forest with a supernatural
echo.

"What…" Lorn gulped. "What did he say?"

"It speaks of conquering a new
adversary."

"Are we that new adversary?"

"Doubtful."

"We need Randor now!" Muron spoke. "We are
trapped!"

* * *

After at last managing to stand, Seth
staggered southward with his sword clutched in shaking hands. With
what faculties he left, he thought only of Randor; he had to find
the wizard. Fortunately, the hill he sought was not far. Being
cautious not to alert the Mazazuken to his location, he could
vaguely hear the sounds of trouble in camp, but he disregarded
them, focused intently on his grueling trek through the bristly
shrubs.

As he finally reached the hill, Seth breathed
a little easier. A mysterious feeling came over him, assuring him
that evil could not harm him here. No longer able to endure
standing, he was obliged to crawl, yet crawl he did, digging his
fingers into the ground to pull him upward. The grassy slope seemed
never-ending as his sight began to fail him. "Randor," he
whispered. Once more, summoning his last atom of power, he managed
again to say, "Randor!"

It was enough. The wizard's concentration was
broken, and he turned to see Highbinder collapse facedown in the
grass.

Randor rushed to his side, surprised that
there should be distress this early in the journey. "What has
happened?" He knelt down, turned Seth over, and shook his
shoulders. Seth shuddered and raised an arm to his sweaty brow.
Randor looked around with sharpened senses.

"We…we need your help," Seth spoke softly.
"The camp--hurry back to them, I pray."

A howl pierced Randor's ears for the
first time that evening. "Werewolves?" he asked.
"Here?"
Quick to his feet, he tipped
up his hat as he backed away, feeling a strong presence of evil. He
drew both hands out from the warmth inside his cloak. He was not
tempted to draw Seth's blade, knowing the knight would need it on
awaking. Magic would prove ample defense against those who opposed
this servant of Ethindar. "Seth," he whispered. "Remain here until
your senses return. I will right the forest and keep safe our
companions." Randor started past Seth but was halted by the
appearance of a Mazazuken. The wolf soared through the air with its
fearsome claws clutching at Randor. Its mouth bore long, white
fangs that gleamed with slaver, desiring only to tear into the
wizard's slender form. Randor stood guard over Seth and rubbed his
fingers, knowing precisely what spell to cast, knowing also that
negotiating with werewolves was out of the question. Magic would be
his only recourse.

The Mazazuken hesitated and glanced to
the east, where he saw his master locked in battle. The view to the
other hill was clear, and Randor, too, watched as Gildan and
Malander attempted to ward off three beasts. Randor was unaware of
Arnanor's condition, and very much displeased with the two
warriors.
The company lies divided
more than I thought.
Boldly Randor
approached the Mazazuken. Lowering his head, he stretched out his
hands to do battle, and whether out of wisdom or out of fright, the
Mazazuken retreated and loped off to the east.

Taking a closer look, Randor saw what
exactly had occurred. He strolled to the center of the hill once
more, where he faced east and placed both hands before him. Taking
a deep breath, he closed his eyes and muttered,
"Nara astei mon ustif fei thrathin-seigoh tar leisha."
Exhaling a cloud of vapor, he watched as a luminous glow rose
from his damp hands and three orbs of orange light flickered into
form, hovering inches from his palms. As he reopened his eyes,
Randor focused on the two Mazazuken closing in on
Malander.

All that Randor needed was the opportunity
to set loose his magic. He waited for Malander to grant him a path.
The grim fighter held his enemies at bay as he feinted and wielded
his blade with great skill. Seeing Malander now out of harm's way,
Randor thrust his hands forward and sent his powers into the night.
The three orbs screamed across the sky, forming comet-like tails
behind them as they barely cleared the treetops. The magic's
potency loosened Randor's posture as pain racked his body, and he
could only pray for fortitude as he watched his work draw nearer to
its intended targets.

Chapter Seven: Night's Fire

After watching their messenger sneak away
into the dark forest, Gildan and Malander both focused on
Yindraken, who was just disappearing over the hilltop. Seth had
vanished nicely and without detection, hastening on his way to
inform Randor and the others of the fighters' distress. Drawing
nearer to Malander, Gildan had a plan that he felt certain would
work. Malander, eager for once to hear what the elf had to say,
leaned inward as Gildan stood at his side. "I have an unorthodox
design in mind," whispered Gildan.