The Fenimeldiyaan: Stolen Time - Chapter 8

The outline of the Warrior God blurred in mid-dance, morphing into a young woman with dark curly hair and a plump, rounded figure.  She continued the dance as if nothing had happened.  Morgan was tiring by that time.  Sweat beaded his brow and his whole body ached from the unaccustomed exercise.  He desperately wanted to stop, but found that he could not. 

The young woman smiled and reached out a hand, stroking him on the arm.  “Lord Morgan!  Tis such a delight to see ye again!”

“Do I know you?”  Morgan had great difficulty speaking and dancing at the same time. 

She smiled again and stroked the side of his face, heedless of the layer of sweat which had accumulated there.  “Of course ye do!  We met in me Pa’s diner. Lord Ezun Khadat.  I be Kyrteza Khadat, his eldest daughter.  I wanted ye to buy me and take me back to yer home, but Uncle Andreas said that yer people don’t do that”.

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Parsivaal smiled.  “That was an easy riddle, wasn’t it?  You arrived upon the solution without even realising it”.

Gerald chuckled at the elderly mage’s enigmatic words.  “And ye have a funny way of answering me question by not answering it”.

“Tis better that way” Parsivaal stated.  “Since this whole situation be somewhat tricky, unpredictable and downright dangerous, tis best not to admit to knowing anything.  Stay confused and you’ll have a better chance of survival”.

“If ye say so”.  Gerald sighed and rolled his eyes.

Parsivaal turned his attention to Terra.  “I do apologise for leaving you out of the conversation.  Would you like to hear what the Goddess wishes to say to you?”

He held out the whisper jar.

“I don’t care about your Goddess” Terra asserted.  “The situation here has gone way past divine intervention.  Our God has forsaken us and ignores our prayers.  Why should I believe that your Goddess will be any different?”

“The Gods learned their lesson from Baejaal, God of Lost Causes”.  Parsivaal spoke like a professor lecturing students.  “One time, Baejaal left a prayer unanswered, much to his detriment.  People stopped believing in him.  His temples fell into ruin and his name was forgotten.  But a few desperate souls still continued praying to him.  People who felt they had no other recourse, that they had nothing to lose.  None of the Gods ignore prayers, for fear of what happened to Baejaal happening to them.  Your God hasn’t forsaken you and neither has the Goddess of Justice.  You only have to touch the lid of the whisper jar to hear her message to you”.

“Nonsense!” Terra growled, swiping his hand at the jar and knocking it out of Parsivaal’s hand.  He expected it to smash when it hit the stone floor, but it remained whole. 

Despite his lack of interest, he found himself reaching for the jar.  It felt warm in his hand. 

“Go on, try it” Parsivaal encouraged.  “After all, you have nothing to lose by listening to her words”.

“Alright” Terra conceded.  “As long as you promise to leave me alone afterwards”.

Parsivaal smiled but made no reply.

Terra tapped the lid of the jar, not expecting anything to happen because he had no faith left.  However, the jar glowed for him as brightly as it had for Gerald.  The gentle melodic voice spoke to him. 

“Welcome, Sir Terra Roland, Knight of Corttann.  Your attempt to destroy a sacred artefact was bold and ill-advised.  It never bodes well to anger the Gods.  However, I forgive you, for you acted out of ignorance and fear.  The Gods will never forsake those in need.  Hear my words and know that I love you.  Time be fluid.  The past can be changed.  Your weakness can become your strength.  You have allies whom you do not remember, but they remember you.  Wind turns green and the Goddess smiles.  Everything will be the right size”.

“It’s a trick” Terra remarked dismissively, handing the jar back to Parsivaal.  “You probably stole the jar from a conjurer or jester.  Or else you used your sorcery powers.  You might have fooled Gerald, but I’m not taken in by it”.

Parsivaal shook his head and wagged a finger at Terra.  “I can’t cast spells when I be this close to you, due to your magic block.  But I won’t waste any more time trying to convince you.  Tis your decision whether to heed her words or ignore them”.

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The pale blue spark glowed brighter for a second and a voice projected telepathically into Merlin’s mind.  “Aye, tis me.  And I ain’t acting alone.  Outside this room, there be other members of the Inner Circle.  Merge with me and I’ll lend ye the strength to reach them”.

Merlin gave his silent consent and the little spark whizzed through the air and into his head.  It was a peculiar sensation, as if something were tickling the inside of his skull.  Sharing his mind and body with Anwyn’s husband was not something he had ever contemplated.  He could sense the eccentric little man’s agile mind working and power flowed into him, causing his enhanced senses to expand beyond the limits of his prison. 

He could see Morgan Shadowbinder dancing with an attractive but rather voluptuous young woman.  A little way down the corridor, a white-haired mage in pale grey robes sat in meditation.  He also noticed another woman, slightly older than Morgan’s dance partner.  Her hair was dyed bright green.  Beside her stood Joseph Lightshield, looking extremely confused.

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Terra pulled his knees to his chest, determined to ignore the strange man addressing him. He had little use for their gods and right now, even his own seemed to be ignoring him. There had been no sign of Lizzy or Queen River in the castle, and every second, they could be far from him and dying for all he knew. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, intent on getting some rest.

“Someone be coming,” Gerald said suddenly. From his position closer to the door, the grizzled mercenary could hear better than Parsivaal and Terra. The other two men tensed, and Gerald’s hand reached for his back, where his broadsword normally would have lain.

The door slammed open, and the broad-shouldered man that stood there drew his bowstring back to his cheek, aiming at Parsivaal. Gerald opened his mouth to speak when a voice interrupted him. “Father!”

  

Fitz shoved past the man, the red-haired bard in his arms. He hastily laid her on the floor and ran to his father, tears falling unashamedly. “Father, you’re alive! How can this be?”

“I were saved.” Gerald was not expecting the sudden hug from his son, who buried his face in his father’s shoulder. “Ah, come now, me boy. There ain’t no reason to cry …”

Fitz pulled away, belatedly wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Father — Lea, I think … I think she’s gone.”

Gerald gripped Fitz’s shoulders. “What?”

“She gave her life to help me and Ilise escape,” Fitz explained. “She delayed Set from coming after us and …”

Gerald closed his eyes, tears stinging his eyelids. “Me daughter?” he repeated. “Leanora? She be … dead?”

Fitz nodded, unable to speak. He sat down beside his father, putting his chin on his hands. Gerald bowed his head, biting his lip hard. Then he raised his eyes to the big man. “Who be ye?”

“David of Colnia,” was the response. He lowered the bow. “You’re Gerald Hunt, aren’t you?”

“Sir Terra!” Ilise pushed past David and ran to Terra, falling to her knees beside him. “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“P-Princess Ilise,” Terra stammered, looking like he’d been slapped. “I thought Set had taken you prisoner!”

  

“He did,” she admitted. “But Fitz helped me escape. Thank you … for what you tried to do for me, Sir Terra.”

“I made a fine mess of it,” Terra muttered, turning his face away from her.

David slid his arrow back into its quiver and pulled his bow over his shoulder. “You two stay here,” he told Ilise and Fitz. Then, to Parsivaal, “I’ve been following the mind signature of a woman named Gremeldah. Am I on the right path?”

He was given a nod, and the Colnian moved to leave. Then he looked at Lana. “Take care of her, please,” he said before running out the door.

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Morgan struggled to pull away from Kyrteza, tears falling and he didn’t even know why. “I don’t know you,” he insisted. “Leave me in peace!”

“Ye do know me,” she told him. “Don’t ye remember the food ye had? The friends ye kept? The good times ye had?”

“No, go away.” Morgan’s mind was rejecting the information, struggling to understand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing … I have nothing. I have no one left in the world. No friends to be kept. Please, just go away. Leave me alone. Whoever you are, whatever you are, you’re wasting your time with me!”

“Ye must remember,” the girl insisted, stroking his face again.

Memories assailed Morgan. A spicy sort of food, numerous odd smells, a familiar red-head storming out, one of his friends twirling his moustache in thought … Morgan collapsed to the floor, at last able to stop dancing. “Leave me alone. Please,” he mumbled.

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Merlin smiled in satisfaction when he focused on the man meditating. Still using the private channel, he touched the man’s mind. “The Guardians greet you together, ‘Lord Caratacuus’. Morgan Shadowbinder is faltering, but your problems will only threaten to increase. Jezebel is coming to put a stop to you. You have minutes, maybe less, until she gets here, and then we’re all in trouble.”

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Set materialised from the shadows in Olivia’s cell. The little girl raised her wide eyes to him, bleeding from multiple lashes. He grabbed her around the throat, lifting her off the ground. “They’ll never hurt one of their own,” he snarled, and shadows plunged into the girl’s forehead.

Almost immediately, she went limp, and he let her drop to the floor. After a moment, Olivia got to her feet, raising her pale face to Set once more. But this time, her eyes were a pure black, blacker than the darkest shadows. “Hello, my puppet,” he said, a hint of amusement entering his voice. “Soon, you will be their undoing. Soon.”

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“Ye be ready for some extreme shapeshifting?” the fragment of Andreas asked from inside Merlin’s mind.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that” Merlin replied.

“Ye’ll like the alternative even less” Andreas assured him.  “Given that ye helped Gremeldah to escape, I doubt Set will be gentle with ye.  Tis best if we get out while we can, and in a form that be difficult to track”.

Merlin gave his silent consent and Andreas guided the transformation, resulting in a cloud of pale blue vapour.  It felt strange to Merlin to have no body and no substance, but when the vapour seeped out through the microscopic cracks in the stonework, he could find no reason to complain.

“So we’re outside the castle” Merlin observed.  “What do we do now?”

Andreas projected the telepathic equivalent of a sly grin.  “We wait.  There still be another part of me inside, helping the others and guiding Gremeldah.  She be the key to undoing Set’s handiwork.  I have to convince her that she can manipulate time and put everything back the way it should be.  But first, she and the others have to evade Set and Jezebel long enough to get out”.

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David followed Parsivaal’s telepathic instructions.  It did not take him long to find the one he sought.  The green hair was unmistakable.  “I have a message for Gremeldah Dowd” he blurted.  “I’m Councillor David Smith of Colnia.  Basil Sonelian sent me”.

“Twould be a fine trick if he could” Gremeldah remarked with a scowl.  “Last I saw, he’d been turned into a statue by Set.  I suppose ye managed to restore him”.

“Not exactly”.  David shifted from one foot to the other, feeling the intense emanations of disdain coming from the Virian Chronomage.  “But I made a connection with him.  I need to pass on his message.  I promised”.

Gremeldah kept her face set in harsh lines, studying the newcomer in great detail.  “Ye can trust him” Ghadry transmitted.  “I’ve had previous dealings with Councillor David Smith.  Let’s hear his message and I’ll guide yer responses”.

She relinquished control to him.  His voice issued from her mouth. “Go ahead, deliver yer message”.

David recited Basil’s message word for word, knowing that it would not be well-received.

Gremeldah’s first instinct was to rage at David, but Ghadry still had control of her mind and body, thus managing to quell her anger and give a more reasoned response.  “Well, he could have tried asking me direct instead of putting me through all that torment.  He really needs to work on his people skills.  Seems it be a habit of his, being tactless and bringing out the worst in people.  Anyways, there be more pressing matters to deal with.  He can wait.  Our priority be staying hidden from Set and Jezebel until the proper course of time can be restored”.

Caratacuus opened his eyes.  “Then you should all leave now.  I will stay here and create a few distractions to buy you time.  Go invisible and keep your emanations low.  Take Morgan Shadowbinder with you”.

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Apollo, while the others were occupied with David Smith from Colnia, went to his cousin’s semi-conscious body on the floor and knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked him.

Morgan fixed his manic eyes on his friend. “A-Apollo?” he stammered. “You’re …”

“I’m a spirit, Morgan.” Apollo’s heart felt heavy.

Morgan said nothing, turning his face away from his friend’s. Neither of them spoke.

David shifted uneasily as the invisibility spell was cast over them. The fury of Gremeldah at Basil was obvious, and he couldn’t blame her in the least, but Basil was his friend. He heaved a sigh, wondering when his life had gotten so complicated. The healer, Apollo, turned into a golden spark before disappearing, and David, at Gremeldah’s instruction, picked up Morgan.

“Too late, little ones.” The laugh sent shivers down David’s spine — it was all too familiar. He placed Morgan on the ground, fury coursing through him. That laugh had been sounded as his teenage daughter had been murdered before his eyes. “Did you honestly think you could escape us?”

The shadows formed and retreated, revealing Jezebel and a short child beside her. The little girl’s black eyes were too dark to be natural, and her skin was paler than porcelain glass. Jezebel tapped her on the shoulder, and the girl reacted immediately — a massive explosion of magic was ripped from her, slamming into David’s group full-force.

The invisibility spell was ripped away and almost all of them — aside from Caratacuus and Gremeldah — were on the ground. Shadows swirled around Joseph, trying to latch onto him, but he seemed immune. The glowing form of Apollo kept the rest of them at bay, but even the spirit seemed to be struggling.

Gremeldah went to cast a spell, but the little girl fired off bolts of electricity, sending the Chronomage flying backwards into Caratacuus. They both hit the ground hard, and shadows fought against them, trying to keep them pinned to the ground. David struggled to his feet, snarling. “Jezebel! You little witch, just let me get my hands on you, murderess!”

“I’m afraid not, hero,” she mocked him. The little girl raised her hand again, but this time, David was faster. Golden light shot from his own hands, slamming into her and sending her flying. It entered her head, trying to pull the shadows from her mind.

At that moment, Apollo’s light failed, and the shadows plunged into him. He gasped in pain, staggering backwards, and the shadows started draining him. His golden aura flickered, threatening to collapse completely. He collapsed to his knees, pale, gasping.

“Apollo!” Morgan’s shout was filled with rage. With inhuman strength, he dragged himself to his feet and advanced on Jezebel, twisting his hands. The shadows were dragged from Apollo, but Morgan was weak, and his control over them was minute. The fight between them lasted only for a moment.

The shadows abruptly changed course, turning into sharpened weapons as four of them plunged into Morgan’s body. The mage screamed in pain, and when Jezebel retracted the weapons, he collapsed, blood staining the floor beneath him.

“MORGAN!” Apollo’s voice cracked in utter grief, and a blinding flash of light drew a pained shriek from Jezebel. When the light faded, the dark wizard had vanished, probably going to lick her wounds. Apollo ran to his cousin, kneeling beside him, crying helplessly. “Morgan, no. No, not you, please, dear God help me, not you!”

Morgan smiled at his cousin, wheezing. “At least … at least I could help you, one last time. It’s cold, Apollo. Death is cold.”

“I … I know.” Apollo covered his face, trying to hide the tears coursing down his cheeks.

“An—Andreas,” Morgan whispered. “Is he here? I want … I need to see him … please …”

It was obvious the mage could not hold out much longer.

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Gerald turned to Parsivaal. “What do we do now?” he asked. “We should go, aye? The longer we stay ‘round here, the more the odds are that Set’ll come for us.”

Ilise gently brushed Lana’s hair from her forehead, trying to soothe the shivering girl. “She’s dying,” the princess whispered. “Isn’t there something we can do for her? I can’t … she doesn’t deserve this …”

Unexpectedly, the princess broke off and started sobbing. The day’s fears had caught up to her, and she found that she couldn’t stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. When did everything get so horrible?

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Morgan felt himself falling.  Although he lacked the strength to open his eyes, he could see a starry sky all around him.  Unfathomable numbers of multi-coloured stars twinkled in the space inside his mind, the last images from his dying brain.

Abruptly the downwards motion ceased and he landed on his feet in a dirty, noisy street which seemed vaguely familiar to him.  Street entertainers played lively tunes on beaten-up old instruments and beggars sitting in doorways held out their bowls, caps or hands.  Dealers and prostitutes plied their trades and many conversations in unfamiliar languages assailed Morgan’s overloaded senses.

A little way down the street he noticed a tin shack painted with multi-coloured stars on a black background.  A memory stirred from deep within his subconscious and he allowed his instincts to guide him.  He approached the shack and knocked on the door.

The door of the shack opened with a grating sound and a skinny, scruffy little boy of around nine or ten years old peered out at him, grinning in delight.  “Morgan Shadowbinder!  I never expected to see ye here.  But that ain’t the proper way to knock on the door.  Let me show ye!”

The little boy climbed onto the roof of the shack and jumped up and down a few times, grinning all the while.  He then leaped off and landed in front of Morgan.  “Wanna try?”

“I’m not that good at climbing” Morgan replied, feeling nervous and awkward in front of the agile street urchin.  “I’m not exactly built for that kind of activity”.  He patted his belly as if to demonstrate.

The boy nodded in acknowledgment and stroked Morgan on the arm.  “Don’t worry, Morgan.  Tis all confusing for ye at the moment but everything will be the right size.  Including me”.

“Andreas!”  At that moment, Morgan’s memories returned to him.  He was in Grehelin Street, with a much younger version of his Carpathian friend.  “Sorry I didn’t recognise you.  You look so different without the moustache and the checked suit”.

The young Andreas laughed and reached behind his neck, flicking his long tail of hair over one shoulder.  “I thought ye’d recognise this at least.  Anyways, it don’t matter.  Outward appearances make no difference where ye be headed”.

“I know I’m dying” Morgan acknowledged.  “And I don’t even care whether I go upstairs or downstairs.  I only wish I could have done more to hold out against Set and help the others find a way to defeat him.  And I wish you hadn’t asked me to kill you”.

“Twould have been worse for all of ye if I hadn’t” Andreas stated.  “Twas better that I died rather than become a weapon for Set or Jezebel.  Ye did the right thing, Morgan”. 

“At least I had some effect on Jezebel” Morgan remarked.  “Killing me seemed to exhaust her, although I believe Apollo had something to do with it as well.  I hope it buys the others time to escape”.

Andreas took Morgan’s hand.  “Tis time for ye to rest now.  Gremeldah, Merlin and the two Malvanians know what needs to be done”.  He gestured inside the shack.  “Sleep now, me friend, and be at peace”.

Too tired and disheartened to put up any sort of protest, Morgan allowed the boy Andreas to settle him inside the shack.  The blankets felt soft and comfortable and soon he fell into a deep sleep.

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Morgan’s body vanished, eliciting gasps of shock from Olivia, Joseph and David. 

“What happened?” Joseph asked.  “Where did he go?”

“Where everyone goes in the end”.  Ghadry’s voice spoke via Gremeldah, who had disentangled herself from Caratacuus.  “To the Beyond.  Ye shouldn’t worry, he be at peace now.  All through his life, he were fighting an internal war, trying to keep his dark side from taking control.  For him, the struggle be over”.

“How do you know so much about him?”  David’s voice had a hostile, suspicious tone to it.  “You’re not from this world and you could only have spent a few days with him at the most”.

“I be a Chronomage” Gremeldah explained.  “We be a sect of sorcerers specialising in the manipulation of time.  We don’t see time like the rest of ye.  Tisn’t a straight line from birth to death.  Tis more like when ye look at a vast landscape and see everything, all at once.  Ye can pick out details here and there, then go and see them up close.  Tis what I did with Morgan.  His life deserves to be remembered, so I’ve fixed it in me mind and I’ll put his story in a whisper jar at one of the sacred repositories of the Geheimsvaak on Malvania.  I’ll also dictate it to one of the Virian Chroniclers.  Future generations will come to know how Morgan Shadowbinder lived and died”.

“Tis well done, my dear”.  Caratacuus got up and stood beside Gremeldah.  “We should take advantage of Jezebel’s weakened state and get ourselves to somewhere safer”.

The others agreed and so they moved out, under cover of a collective invisibility spell cast by Gremeldah and Caratacuus.

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“Aye, we should get out of here” Parsivaal agreed.  “But first, we need to stabilise dear Lana.  In her weakened state, moving her could speed up the effect of the venom”.

He gave Ilise a reassuring hug and used the ragged sleeve of his patchwork robe to wipe away her tears.

“Can you heal her?” the princess asked, looking at the dishevelled sorcerer.

Parsivaal shook his head.  “Not exactly.  But I have a little knowledge of basic healing techniques which may serve.  I can infuse her with some of the power from my crystal bonds.  Twill slow down the spread of the venom within her system and possibly buy us time to get her to a proper healer”.

“You’ve got no chance of finding a healer around here” Terra commented in a gloomy tone.  “In case you haven’t noticed, the castle is under Set’s control and I can’t see him employing healers.  He prefers to kill or enslave people, not cure them”.

“Very true” Parsivaal acknowledged.  “However, my colleague Caratacuus should be able to help, as will the Chronomage.  Once I’ve given Lana my strength, I’ll have to levitate her while we move through the castle.  We won’t be able to go very fast, but in our present circumstances, stealth be preferable to speed”.

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Parsivaal used his crystal senses to scan for the familiar mind signature of his fellow Malvanian.  He transmitted a brief message, informing him of their situation, then he used a levitation spell to lift Lana off the ground and propel her along. 

Anxious to be doing something instead of sitting around, Terra surged ahead without waiting for Parsivaal to cast an invisibility spell.  He doubted that it would work on him anyway, due to his magic block. 

Gerald, Ilise and Fitz went next, with Parsivaal bringing up the rear.