Devil's Awakening

CHAPTER ONE
Flying Times

A great eagle swept out of a cloud. Wisps of smoke trailed after it, as if magnetized towards this grand form of feathers and flight. High and free, it screeched its praise to the gods for bringing it to these new, plentiful lands. It was warmer here, and its senses were doused; not as sharp as they were before. However the prey here was much less alert and the eagle had already almost finished its hunt; in half the time that it was used to. Its belly was full but now it would provide for its chicks. It peered downwards at the circling seagulls. One would do. It targeted its victim and swooped downwards. It was about to catch the seagull when it suddenly flew out of the way, without appearing to notice the eagle bearing down on it. Undeterred, the eagle chased after it at a slightly faster pace, still far below its top speed. The seagull evaded capture still, frustrating the eagle. This was unusual to the eagle. All the other birds of this kind were slow and quick to kill. Was this of another kind? The eagle checked and sure enough it was one of this new prey but it was moving as gracefully as even an eagle, albeit at a slower speed. The eagle did not care for the meal now. Anger drove it to vow to capture this tiresome anomaly, however long it took. It sped on towards its higher speeds, never taking its eyes off its anger issue. It took a final swoop and caught it by the neck. Triumphantly it shook its victory in the face of the white flock. And then it noticed something wrong. It held not the unnaturally evasive seagull, but an ordinary one. It had been tricked. Calling out its pure rage, it launched itself back into the chase, discarding its catch. It was easy to distinguish the culprit now. It definitely moved differently, as if it was unsure of its humble identity. To the eagle’s eyes this was evidence enough. It sprung through the air and smashed into the side of its capture. It peeled round and showed off its prize to the now retreating flock and any other creatures that might be watching. As it spun around to head back to its nest on the rocks it noticed something else strange. When the seagull should be limp and unmoving, it was still struggling. And it was stronger than it should be. It started to rip itself from the eagles grip. The eagle feared the worst and so decided to eat it now and find something else for its chicks. It flew with new haste over the sea towards a ledge on which to land. As it devoured the meat, it ignored the stares and pointing coming from the workers swarming around the docks. The meat was rich and the eagle feasted well. However, as it tore deeper and deeper it grew weaker and weaker. Instead of giving it new strength, the meat was dousing its spirits. But it could not stop swallowing more and more of it. Compelled, it reached the seagull’s heart. It picked off one piece, two. Evil was suddenly unleashed out of this. It was as if this heart was a casket of hate and lust. The eagle could do nothing now. Its strong will was gone and its resolve crushed. It ate the last of the oozing heart and evil washed over it like the blood dripping down its feathers. It struggled for a moment, and then its blood stream was completely infected. Its eyes flashed red and it cawed out a warning to anyone who dared challenge it. It jumped back into flight and towards the forest it flew, leaving its chicks behind for dead.

The Mayor of the port was making his way down to the dock-yards to remind the dock-hands what good workers they were. He made this trip every month, each time reluctantly. The procession was slow as it moved down the cobbled streets. A few people waved flags out of their windows to show their appreciation. However the town’s many widows stayed inside not caring for their Mayor’s visit. He did not notice the seagulls circling above the town, for there was nothing to notice. They were as part of this town as the weeds in the walls. Why bother with them? However if he had been looking carefully he may just have noticed something unusual in their behaviour. He may have, but likely not. For the seagulls were starting to act as they had not ever before – at least not in living memory. It was as unlikely as the weeds in the walls gaining life and growing through into people’s homes, and strangling them in their sleep. What the Mayor would have realised was that there were not just seagulls up there. He would have seen a flash of gold brilliance as an eagle soared over his town in a straight line, heading to the forest. That is, if he hadn’t been busy kicking a young beggar out of the way, with pointed boots. He cursed loudly. What were beggars doing in his city? Orphans? He spat into a trough as he thought of them. What good were they? They did no work and he could see no reason to try to force them to labour on the docks. They were mostly far too weak. His mood was improved as they rounded the bend in the street. There were the docks that he was so proud of. Here, strong men laboured, flexing their muscles in what the Mayor thought was gratification to him. These strong-hands took his mid of the endless trouble plaguing his town. He loved to see them work, but loathed to speak to them, weak as their minds were. It seemed to him that there wasn’t anything good in this town that didn’t have an unpleasant side. Many ships docked here; the sign of a healthy port. In fact, this port was the best to come to right now, even with its bad situation concerning its population. It was situated right in the middle of the coastal settlements of the Province of Barttatron. However, it was backed by a steep ridge with few paths up, and this was restricted by the mounts rising to its side. Even past these obstacles, lay a forest of unmapped proportions. This should have spelled the port’s disaster, as no trade could be moved by land the other towns and cities on the coast and even further inland. However, it survived due to the obtaining of the largest airfield in the Province. Every hour or so, a big merchant airship would set course for a town to do business with. Empty merchant airships arrived back, hoping to barter for goods on the next ship to arrive. The entire airfield allowed room for up to fifty airships of reasonable size. However, at the busiest times often over sixty could be found there, jostling sluggishly for space. Today was not busy. Only one ship had come in; it was said that the others had been sunk. But by who, or what, it was not known. The airfield was only half full as the ship did not have a very big load. The bulk of its goods were wheat and cereal crops. Most of it was snapped up by the official army representatives, to be sent to the Front. A few merchants managed to grab a share to sell to the markets of nearby towns. As always, 5 percent went to the town of the port itself; Alkatarez. This was the only way that the town could sustain itself. Its only farming land was taken by the huge airfield and it could not have goods transported over land to it. So it was that it came to rely solely upon the ships that came in from distant lands, where food and riches were more plentiful. Today was not good for the merchants, most of whom went home empty-handed, or Alkatarez. The Mayor snorted when he saw only one birth filled.
“What is this? Do the captains of the ships dare not venture here anymore?”
“Please, your Lordship,” explained his chief courtier. “It has been said that the other ships expected were suck, though how is not known.”
The Mayor snorted scornfully again. “I don’t care if they are struck by the greatest storm ever to plague the seas. They should have come anyway.” Nobody dared tell him that he was speaking foolishly. “We shall have to cut the rations.”
Not too far above the rooftops, the seagulls continued to act strangely. They shrieked and called, circling round and round.
“Look at that,” exclaimed the Mayor. “Even the mere seagulls appear to cry our doom out!”
Then the mere seagulls began to descend in a swirling cloud. Driven mad by fear, they descended. To witness a legendary hunter come so close was enough. The clincher was the taint of evil and hate left behind by the eagle. Frantically, the seagulls swooped downwards to where they knew they must use their talons to rip and tear.
The Mayor continued to peer at the seagulls, spouting a series of curses directed at them. They suddenly seemed to turn on him and descend speedily towards him, as if they had heard him.
“Blast it! Quick! Under cover!” He yelled at his procession. They darted to safety in doorways, behind boxes and some even clung to the shadows of the huge dock-hands for protection. The Mayor himself took out the huge sword that hung at his side. Determinedly, he pointed it upwards as a warning to the fast-approaching birds. As he kept the blade raised, he backed away towards a huge tent erected for the purposes of hosting the ship’s market. Nearly there, the first seagull reached him. He jabbed directly upwards with his blade. It sank upwards into its soft, feathery belly. It shrieked and slumped, stuck on the sword, a reminder to the others not to attack. Except that they did not heed it, or at least didn’t seem to notice. They continued their attack. The Mayor was shocked; he had never seen seagulls act this way before. No one had, it seemed. All around the docks people stopped in their selling, purchasing and work, whatever it may have been. The Mayor started backing into the tent quicker now. He glanced at the bird on his sword. He thought he saw a flash red in its eyes.
“No i-it can’t be,” He gasped. He stumbled backwards and fell over a box into the tent. Shaking, he sat down on a bench. The barterers inside watched stood there with shocked expressions. Outside, the people out on the docks saw the seagulls rear back up for a minute, confused, it seemed. Then they resumed their attack. The onlookers were stunned as they ripped through the roof of the massive tent. Several notched arrows to their bows, and let fly. It was too late, however, and there were too many anyway. The crowd watched with hushed silence as their Mayor was torn apart in front of their eyes. The seagulls ripped at the Mayor’s flesh which, to their delight, was soft and tender. Thrilled at this new sensation, they looked for new ways to satisfy their new blood-hunger. The crowd saw the birds turn on them with dismay. The quick thinkers reached for the weapons at hand; most of the dock-hands carried daggers at their belts and a box of bows and arrows was torn open. Strong men hurried to the front, nearest to the oncoming birds, in order to protect the more frail behind them. Some women were aiming with bows further back. The birds fell on the front with their first attack. Coordinated attacks caused feelings of unrest and fear to grow among the people. Mercenaries were hurrying from the ship to help but they numbered only a score and a half. As the first wave of birds was cut to shreds, someone had their eyes gouged out and screamed out with pain. And the mass of seagulls remained, however many where shot with arrows or struck with sword.
“Duck,” came an authoritative cry from the ship. “Fire!” The cannon was fired into the seagulls as they where about to reach the centre of the crowd, into the unprotected underbelly of the defence. The birds screeched their confusion. The cannonball smashed into a stall, smashing it into splinters. The mass of beaks and talons swirled upwards, and away, towards the forest, following the treacherous path of the golden eagle before them. A ragged, uncertain cheer went up from the people. They turned to the ship, to face their saviour. Except that no one came out. The mercenaries who had come from there looked confused, too. A minute passed, then two. After ten minute’s waiting, several dockhands went with the ex-Mayor’s chief courtier to investigate. After several minutes passed, the gathered grew restless. Lonely people peered out of their windows to see what would be found. As the time passed restlessness grew into apprehension. After seeing a flock of seagulls suddenly attack, the crowd felt that anything might happen now. To their relief the men returned at the head of the crew of the ship. They moved oddly, but this was this was dismissed as the effects from the waves. The people who had gone to find them continued to lead them off the ship, and then turned round to face the sailors at the head of the crowd. The three dock-hands fell back respectfully while the others who had served in positions of power under the dead Mayor stepped forward. Together they bowed in a line. When they resurfaced the crowd bowed down too.
“Where is your captain, good sailors?” asked the ex-chief servant cheerfully but warily as well. The sailors wobbled from side to side, none of them bothering to answer, or so it seemed. They peered at the head courtiers almost indefinitely. They looked into their eyes and infected them. Flashes of red light came from the eyes of the courtiers, unseen to the crowd. They moved forward as one line towards the line of sailors. They reached out their hands as the sailors raised theirs. They, sailor and courtier, touched their hands together. A froth of blood passed from the hands of the sailors to stain the hands of the leaderless courtiers. The courtiers kept their hands in the air as the sailors lowered theirs. The couriers turned to face the crowd, blood dripping. The people were at first afraid at what was happening. But as soon as they saw the red hands they stood, transfixed. At first weaker, then stronger their eyes flashed red. The people at the front were affected the most. Some of the people near the back fled, of what they did not know. People at their windows drew back the curtains, and shivered in the shadows. The sailors and couriers spoke in unison: “Come.” The crowd obeyed as one. Each of them went to the body of their dead mayor, lying amongst torn pieces of tarpaulin. One by one, they reached down to his fiercest wound. His heart had been ripped out. One by one they placed their hands in the wound, and made a clasping motion. They clamped their hands in a fist shape, and then ripped them out again, as if ripping the heart out once more. The one who arrived later had to make do with blood from other wounds, but they still pretended to tear his heart out. Even the Mayor’s old courtiers did the same thing. They completed this process without speaking of it but they all knew what to do. Scuttling noises could be heard from the nearby streets as the unaffected population ran from this horrific scene. Spindly figures escaped from doorways and headed the same way; towards the airfield. Five airships were docked there permanently for emergencies, in which it was impossible to escape by sea. When they reached the airship they saw to their dismay that four had been destroyed and lay in smoking tatters. Before only all five could have carried the entire population of the port, Alkatarez. Luckily, they found that the amount of people who had escaped was very few. Most of the men had already gone to war and a lot of the widows had stayed in their homes, no will to run. They sped onwards towards the lone survivor and starting climbing into it.

After they dipped and ripped, the flock of evil lined up in steady ranks in front of the ship. Stiff and unmoving they waited. A shadowy figure emerged down the plank. It stopped in front of the tainted. Waving a hand, it caused a ripple of movement to occur as each went down on the ground, head bent. It looked side to side. When it was satisfied, it spread its arms out. Its worshippers raised their heads. They turned, and set about looting and destroying the port. The stench of burning bodies soon reached the shadowy figure. It drank it in, relishing the sour smell.







CHAPTER TWO
Sleepless Nights

A strange being flitted away from the scene of destruction. It journeyed out of the fires of the port. It saw screaming women clutching babies, running from wicked beings. All it felt was fear. It did what it could; it made an airship crash into the looting crowd. However it was tired from its journey to these lands and this drained yet more energy. The evil washing over the place was slowly overcoming it, too. Its senses were being doused and it blundered dizzily in the direction of its destination. It felt confused and disorientated in this land, where none of its kind had travelled for millennia. It floated uneasily upwards. Bourne by the wind, it allowed itself to be transported over the old scenery. It sensed fear even lingering this high up. It wondered, and then casually glanced down at the forest, where a flock of seagulls sped onwards with haste fuelled by hatred and fear trailing after a glorious eagle. Beautiful though the sight was, the being understood the malevolence in it. It allowed itself to be carried away from the scene of fright, fight and fire and up towards the clouds. In the darkening times, they were beginning to melt into the soft caresses of the night. The cool of the air up here refreshed the being. The floaty clouds sent their spongy spirits through the being, which felt a new vigour. The vitality sent it soaring away from dependence and onwards in its mission. It sent itself tumbling down towards the forest, aware of the patches of evil residing in it. It went towards the lights of the pilgrims coming from the scene of wickedness. They held fiery torches in their hands, but unlike the others who looked like them, they did not seek to burn anything. The lights of the torches were being used to beam their way through the forest. The being mentally shuddered at the thought that such things could be used for such bad causes in the wrong hands, tools of evil. It revelled in the thought that they could also be used for such noble causes, too. It passed above their forms. It could make out blurred forms, but thousands of years of cut communication meant that it could not yet see these people in their true forms yet. It sensed their fear, but also the internal struggle against it being fought in the minds of the escapees. It marvelled at this, wishing contact with these creatures could have been resumed earlier. As it reached further down the line of travellers the feelings of fear and pain were overcome by feelings of frustration. Here, dense forest was being hacked away desperately by the leaders. A fear was hidden behind this frustration, though. A fear of those transformed coming to find them. The being felt these with pain. It tried to go beside them and talk to them, sooth them, but found it did not know the language. The people looked through it, as if it wasn’t there. The only other option was the help. It used its replenished power to help them with their labour. It loosened vines, weakened trees in their way and tore out thorny bushes in front of them, when they weren’t looking. When it felt it had done enough, it journeyed back into the streams of air above the dark green canopy. It found a current that would take it in the right direction and let itself be swept away, always alert. Back past the port of Alkatarez it sped and was angered and the burning and pillaging present. On and on it went, following the road on the ridge. Sometimes it passed over travellers on foot. Most of these were going in the direction opposite to the port. Those who ventured towards it were warned against it. The road thinned to a dusty path as it left the cursed Alkatarez behind. The being soon reached its final destination. There, where the ridge was very wide, stood a house by the path. It was not too large, but very grand. Its expensive red tiles were dull in the midnight darkness. A cobbled path led to its large front door, furnished with a proud golden knocker. An open window playfully let in some of the breeze blowing, but not all of it. The being slipped inside through this entrance. It was but a faint creeping. Pale footsteps down an empty hall. Ghostly feet dragging on dusky flagstones. Sniffing its way, it climbed up the wide staircase. It thought about trying to talk to the boy, but it knew it still wouldn’t work. Instead, it sighed a long, deep sigh. The sigh swept through the house. It sped down corridors; searched larders; it looked in cupboards. A whisper of drowsy activity made it suddenly change direction. Alerted to its target’s proximity it whispered waking thoughts. Through a rusty keyhole, over a pine floor towards the activity of thought. Up his nostrils it went, through his ears, crowding at his eyes. And then

Xavier awoke from the dream he had been suffering. He felt no feelings of relief, as was usual after a bad dream. He knew that this one would return; stronger than ever. Always, it was the same. Waves and waves of fear, hatred and anger seemed to be throwing themselves against his sanity. Terrible, screaming noises pierced holes in his consciousness through which hissed streams of wickedness. The longer he stayed awake, the more holes were forced open. The more his defences were breached. His was so afraid. What was different about this nightmare to others was that most people woke from ordinary nightmares at the scariest point, at which all hope is lost. But in these nightmares there was no such thing. The whole situation was one long scary point. There was no rest. Every morning, Xavier awoke shivering and coughing. And it was getting worse. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The most hated part of this curse was the voice in the background. It was a good voice; it offered safety and calmness, away from the horror. However, Xavier could never hear it. It was as if it were drowned out by the torrents of malice, greedily splashing against his good thoughts, drowning them. He so wanted to hear that voice. Every night it seemed to shout louder, but was also weaker. It seemed to grow hoarse with time. Xavier wished he could answer back. It all seemed so real, he thought as he lay there shivering. Surely anything thought up by my head could not be that bad? Or am I so touched by evil that I can dream up such horrors? And what about that voice? It all seems so real. As if my mind were but a battlefield on which this battle was played out? He sighed and rolled out of bed. Blearily, he made his way to his window. It looked out onto the sea, crashing upon the rocks of the fragile ridge that kept his house up from those swirling depths. He looked to the right, regaining calm in the stillness of the night. He noticed a faint, shimmering glow in the night’s sky. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the port of Alkateraz. Xavier frowned. What could that mean? He was too curious to let the matter rest and returning to his bed would most likely mean a return to the dream, too. He shouldered a thick coat and padded downstairs. Putting on some warm boots, he slipped outside. Not before he thought he felt a prescience watching over him. His boots crunched on the frosted ground and his breath came out in clouds the colour of the wide moon. He reached the path that spindled softly to Alkateraz. Small creatures of the night darted out of his impending treads. He rounded the first bend and found he could see the glow clearer in the distance. It seemed to flicker and held a tint of yellow. Xavier hastened on. What on earth could this be? What could it mean? After another ten minutes’ walk he found he was ready to turn back, having learnt nothing on the matter. However, at this moment he saw someone hurrying towards him, coming from the port.
“Hey you, sir!” he addressed the man. “What goes at Alkateraz?”
The man shifted uncomfortably. Xavier could see blood on his brow. “Aye; ‘tis bad. I don’t know hat brings you out here at such a time but if I can offer one thing it is this warning; don’t go near Alkateraz. Not as long as you live, ya here? It’s a tainted place!”
“Yes but what has actually happened there?” pleaded Xavier. “I saw a flickering light coming from its direction. Is there a fire there?”
“In a manner of speakin’,” chuckled the man grimly. “The whole town is ablaze. Yes that’s right,” he certified after seeing Xavier’s disbelieving expression.
“B-but how?” stammered Xavier.
“It is not a question of how, but who; and what. The fire is the least of the places’ worries. Evil has arrived there,” he whispered, looking from side to side. “Aye it arrived by boat, it did. I was there, but not too close, so’s I escaped. Hid in a small cave, I did, ‘til they stopped lookin’.”
“Yes but what did you hide from? Tell me!”
“Well, I guess I’ll tell you fro’ the beginnin’. Aye that’s what I’ll do.” He looked down and scratched his head, as if gathering his thoughts. “Well, the ship had come in for the day; but just one, mind, which was already unusual. I had wandered down to th’ port, you see, to barter fro some rice and flour which was what was on board, they notices said. But then I heard this shoutin’. For some reason I looked up. What I saw took my breath away; a flock of seagulls was downin’ on the town. I ran down closer to check on what was happenin’. Not too close, I peered round a corner. I saw the Mayor ‘imself cowering from the seagulls, which were actually attacking! He managed to get inside one o’ those big tradin’ tents and those birds seemed to be stumped. But they went back in for the kill, they did. Tore at the tent n’ everythin’. They tore the Mayor to pieces, they did. Somethin’s bad happenin’ I told myself. Get away, I thought. But I stood there all th’ same. It was somethin’ never happened before in our history. The attack o’ the seagulls! It was quite somethin’. A crowd had been gatherin’ near the ship so a lot of people were at risk now. The strong dock-hands and mercenaries from the ship went to protect them but failed. The seagulls were about to tear at the unprotected women and children. But at that moment the ship loosed a cannonball into the flock, dispersin’ them. Then they took flight, followin’ a golden eagle, some said.”
“Why would a golden eagle venture down to these parts, though?” Pondered Xavier.
“Exactly my thinkin’ at the time. Anyways, the seagulls ‘ave done and so the people think the danger’s gone.”
“So how did the fire start?”
“Don’t be hasty, lad. I’m coming onto that bit. So where was I? Oh, of course,” he coughed. “Everyone turns to face the ship; to thank the people who saved them, see? Except no one comes, see? So, some brave men go and look in there, not knowin’ what they’ll find. They come out with the ship’s crew, but not the captain. Then all the dead Mayor’s couriers have made a line and are facin’ these sailors. I couldn’t see what was happenin’ and neither could the crowd, but then these couriers go and press their hands against those of the sailors. I thought I saw blood on them. They then turned back to the crowd and faced them. Now, believe you me, I saw what I saw. Their eyes started flashin’ red and the people in the crowd was just starin’ back. Some people at the back ran off with me and we got some people out o’ there homes. We went to the airfield to get on the emergency airships. Only one was left – the rest were burnin’ wrecks – but it was enough and we were getting on board. However, just as I was about to get on there was a shout from behind me. I looked round and saw a mob with blazin’ torches runnin’ towards us. I knew the air ship stood no chance so’s I ran to the cliff and hid in a dark cave. I saw their evil at work. All the survivors got on but the never took off. The evil people clung onto the ropes and held it down. They threw blazin’ torches at it an’ it caught fire like a fragile leaf. I could here the screams of the people inside. Wishin’ to see no more, I hid my eyes from the scene of torture. They lit up all the other airships like beacons while the others destroyed Alkatarez. I hid so long I fell asleep, but when I awoke there was no one left near me. The town was still on fire and there was noises from there, but the airfield was dark and deserted. I took a rope from a fallen airship and pulled myself up onto the ridge. Then I started walkin’ upwards, seekin’ shelter. And here I am now. If I know one thing it’s this; something evil beyond evil was aboard that vessel.”
Xavier gaped at him, disbelievingly. “Do you swear that what you have just told me is of the pure, honest truth?”
“Aye, I swear it on all the dead lives o’ them widows in their poor homes, murdered innocent or burnt alive.”
“Well. I-I’m glad you told me,” said Xavier, regaining his senses. Then he remembered something. “Did you say you were looking for a place to stay?”
“Aye, to be truthful if I don’t find somewhere I’ll have to sleep rough again; at least ‘til I reach Ferramor, where my cousin lives.”
“Well, after what you’ve been through, I’m prepared to let you sleep in my home for at least a few nights. Then you can prepare fully for your journey.”
“Oh, thanks beyond thanks, young one!” The man reached forward and kissed his hand. Xavier smiled awkwardly.
“It’s just back up there. Not more than a ten minute walk, I assure you.” Xavier pointed back up the path.
“That’s just great!” The man winked at him. “Oh, an’ before you ask, my name is Balzer.”
“Mine’s Xavier. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He started back up the trail before Balzer halted him.
“Where d’you think you’re going? We can’t leave without putting up some kind of warning side for travellers. However many years it takes, people will forget that evil lies in tha’ town. Who knows what kind of evil force will always linger there?”
“Alright,” agreed Xavier.
“And it needs to last!” They pondered the problem. Xavier wandered around in circles, picking up anything that came to hand and throwing it back down again.
“It’s no use! What can we do that won’t get kicked or washed away?”
“Carry on searching,” said Balzer determinedly.
Suddenly Xavier clapped a hand to his head. “Of course! Why don’t we just use the rocks on the side of the ridge?” The path was lines with huge rocks on one side to stop people walking over the edge of the cliff. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner!”
“I expect tha’ your just so used to seein’ them, but I knew you wu’ find the answer eventually.”
“You mean you knew all along?”
Balzer nodded. “Mmm-hmmm.”
Xavier felt a bit useless at this point. Balzer seemed to notice because he said; “Don’t worry about it, lad. There’s many a man who wu’ ha’ taken much longer than you. To tell you th’ truth, I’ve been thinkin’ over the problem all the while I’ve been fleein’ th’ town.”
Xavier smiled. He knew this probably wasn’t true, but he was grateful for the reassurances. They set about shifting the rocks, which weighed more than Xavier had anticipated. He wondered what strange fortune had brought him here. If I hadn’t woken up at such a strange hour, this man might not have bothered to knock on our door, and I might have walked straight into a trap. The work was hard and Xavier had to stop for a few breaths after five minutes. They were hindered when they realised the cliff-top was too narrow for the whole message, but eventually they had finished the task. The rocks spelled out the words Venture not further. Evil lies ahead. Xavier and Balzer stood before their work, panting and satisfied.
“That’s not th’ last of it, though” said Blazer.
“What do you mean? Is there more to be done?” Xavier was disbelieving.
“Aye – but the work is not arduous, fret not.” He pulled out a small pouch from his pocket. “After all, somethin’ good has to grow out of this!”
He set about planting strange seeds into the ground.
“I have not seen those seeds before. What kind are they?” Enquired Xavier.
“Ah, they are no too common these days; they come from the eastern elves.
“Are you a friend of the elves?”
“In a manner of speakin’. But now they are not friends o’ any men. I was given these many years ago, in return for a service I performed for them.”
“What kind of service?” Xavier was curious, but Balzer would not say, merely shake his head; “It’s o’ no matter now.”
Xavier’s curiosity had been aroused. He now had a much higher opinion of the man now he knew this of him.
“What’s special about these seeds is that with them will come the most glorious trees of silver. They shall shine like wonder in th’ moonlight. But the most special thing about them is that as long as they stand here, across this path, no evil being shall be allowed through. They grow mightily quick, too; somethin’ to stop those accursed invaders in their tracks. Of course, they’ll come with axes at the trees, but these are made stern stuff. They use the moon for their power and will deflect any blade borne to them. However they’ll find another way to get to Ferramor, there’s no doubt.” He sighed. “We do what we can, eh?”
Xavier nodded as he watched Balzer plant three rows of trees, each four across. He looked into the pouch. There were only twenty left.
“Aye, precious, they are. Their fault is that the trees take a score of years to produce any seed. The elves treat these seeds as precious jewels.”
Xavier wondered at what Balzer could have done to gain such respect from such noble creatures.
“Your house will be safe, at any rate. However I won’t stay; I’ll be off to find my cousin in Ferramor to make sure th’ alarm has been sounded.”
“Thank you very much. It must be painful to part with such precious gifts.”
“Aye, but what else am I to use ‘em for? If there’s any cause just enough it’s this. To share with you a secret, I’ve planted one of those in front of my house. O’ course I didn’t tell anyone about its history, but hopefully it will deter any of ‘em from going in my house. Anyway, enough o’ that. Let’s get on back to your home. You don’t want to worry your poor parents,” said Balzer.
“Of course,” murmured Xavier, lost in thought. What of this man’s family? He mentioned his cousin in Ferramor but he must have some other relatives still alive. He decided not to plague the man with yet more questions, especially ones so personal, and perhaps sensitive.
And so it was that the short walk to Xavier’s house was passed in silence. They passed no one and all was silent. The moon hung in the air like the most valuable medallion of the greatest general. They crunched their way up to the front door of Xavier’s house, lying ten paces to the side of the port.
“Aye, ‘tis a fair home, much more so than mine old one.”
“Thanks.” Xavier looked up. He could see a flickering light. His mother must be awake, waiting for him. He gulped. Right now, what he feared almost as much as the waiting danger was his mother there at the window. He saw her shadow move away from the window as he waited by the door.
“Ah,” remarked Balzer. “Not going to go down too well, is it? I just hope she don’t cast me out before I’ve said what’s needed to be said!”
As a matter of fact, it wasn’t as bad as Xavier thought it would have been. He heard echoing footsteps and a rattling before the door opened. She welcomed them in without a word, only raising her eyebrows at the stranger, and folding her arms. She closed the door behind them a little more loudly than necessary and watched them grimly as they relieved themselves of their boots and coats.
“Well?” Questioned María.
Xavier looked up and met her eyes hastily, but did not respond.
“Were you woken by a nightmare?” Xavier was glad to see her face soften as she said this. It was not as bad as he had feared.
“Yes…yes a kind of nightmare. I could not get myself back to sleep.”
“Nor could I, to tell you the truth. This past hour I’ve been looking out of the window at the waves, waiting for you. I assume you went out to find out what that strange glow on the horizon is?”
“Of course; my spirits cannot rest until I’ve found an answer to something of that matter!” Xavier thought about telling her what had happened himself, but did not think himself capable of it. All he wanted to do right now was drift off to sleep. He stifled a yawn. “And this gentleman,” he pointed to Balzer, “wishes to spend a few nights of rest with us. He has something most interesting to tell you.” Balzer bowed, a little exaggeratedly. “I hope that I am most welcome to this most grand abode.”
“Most welcome,” answered María. “My son mentioned that you had something to tell me. Not bad news, I hope?”
“Ah,” he sighed. “I’m most afraid that it’s nothin’ but.”
“Well I suppose it will most suitable for us to discuss what you have to tell me in a more comfortable position. Will the kitchen do? I’ll brew some strong herbal tea.”
Balzer’s face crinkled with a smile. “That’ll do just nicely. Perhaps when you have heard my tale, you will understand more why I have forced my presence upon your company without notice of any sort.”
“Follow me, then.” She turned to Xavier, who was swaying tiredly. “Do you want to return to bed or would you rather stay downstairs with us? It shall be dawn soon so there is little scope for returning to sleep, I would think.”
“Ok, I’ll come with you two,” he muttered blearily.


CHAPTER THREE
Explanations


Xavier, his mother María and the strange man Balzer were seated around the kitchen table. Since this house was so big itself, the kitchen was too, as well as the huge table which occupied the middle of its floor space. María was stirring a brew which simmered inside a small pot hanging above a crackling fire. Balzer was busy checking his pockets in case he had dropped something. Xavier was staring into the fire, his mouth tightly shut. Clenched in his hand was a half-eaten piece of bread; Balzer had already eaten three, spreading them with a strong smelling paste which he had taken out of his cloak. The room had a fresh feel as the sky began to undress itself from its black cloak of night. Xavier shuddered as the cry of a seagull reached his ears, remembering what they had done just hours ago. His mother took the pot and placed it near where he and Balzer where seated and gave them a mug each, too. Balzer took the initiative and poured himself a steaming serving. Xavier wearily grasped the pot by its handles and filled his mug. María seated herself in between them and filled her mug, too. She turned to Balzer.
“I have three things to ask you. Firstly, who are you?”
“I’ll reply as truthfully as I can, ma’am. Recently I have been residing in the doomed port of Alkateraz. I go by the name of Balzer, given to me at birth by my dead mother. My father has not spoken to me for ten years, though I do not wish to tell you why; at least not for now.”
“Quite right, too. Some things are best kept to one’s self,” said María.
“I thank you for your understanding. Now; onwards. My family is not from Alkateraz, nor from Ferramor, though my cousin, Earliiar resides there to this very moment. Originally, we are not even from this province, but from further north. After harsh winters, my ancestors turned cowardly and moved south, here. That is a tarnish on my family’s name that I could never scrub clean. Who I am exactly, though? You could say I’m a traveller. I rarely stay in one place for long so staying here away from home does not bother me.”
“Ah, yes. That brings me on to my next question.,” cut in María. “How long do you wish to reside with us?”
“Not very long at all. I respect your pressures as host and so even if I had had the choice, I would not have stayed long. As it happens, I must leave early tomorrow morning. Now, I can guess what your final question is. And that must be why am I here? Why have I suddenly turned up, uninvited, in the middle of the night, accompanied by your son? No need to ask, I shall answer these questions now. I am almost certain that you will find the answer satisfying, if disturbing. I shall start from where I deem appropriate. Please do not interrupt me while I speak, for I will lose my thoughts. Agreed?”
“Of course. You need not tell me to listen if it is of such importance, as you seem to be indicating towards,” replied Mar You need not tell me to listen if it is of such importance, as you seem to be indicating towards,” replied María, a little haughtily.
Balzer sucked in his breath. María waited patiently as a fit of coughing consumed him; “Aye, I am old enough.” He took a long swig from his mug before beginning with his tale. Xavier only half listened as he retold all of the events that had passed. He drank sips from his mug, though he was not thirsty. His eyes half closed, he was swirling the tea around, hypnotizing himself until a passage of speech made him prick his ears.
“…aye. And so I watched helplessly as I knew my dear daughter was in that very crowd, gone ahead of her old man in her eagerness to please. Ah, I shouda never made the mistake o’ lettin’ her out of my sight. Something bad was always going to happen, I told myself. One day you’ll be payin’ for this. But, of course, I never listened to reason. My girl was growin’ up, see. I thought she’d be able to take care o’ herself. Aye, but what can anyone do against the tides of evil. That was when I had to go. I knew it. No point hangin’ around here, waitin’ to be killed a—"
“Wait,” interrupted Xavier. “You never mentioned this to me. Your own daughter was one of the…transformed?”
“Aye. At that time it still pained me too much to speak of it – to anyone, especially a stranger as you were there.”
“I am terribly sorry. If I’d have known before…I’d have,” but there was nothing that Xavier could think of that could have helped. Nothing at all.
“Ah. There’s nothin’ you could have done – nor do now, for the time being,” replied Balzer gently. Xavier nodded meekly in his direction and quickly lowered his eyes back to his tea, where he carried on stirring it, with a little more passion now. As Balzer’s tale came to a close, Xavier’s mother closed her eyes in thought. She then addressed Xavier. “And where does your side to this story come in?”
“Well, I have not as much to say as our guest but I’ll tell you what I can. I awoke from a…nightmare,” Xavier did not want to worry his mother even more and so refrained from telling her what really woke him. “I was alert and awake. I did not trust myself to fall asleep any time soon and so I paced in my room restlessly. When I looked out of the window, I saw the same strange glow that you did. I then decided to investigate, so I began down the path towards Alakateraz. Luckily, I was met by the fellow sitting with us now and he explained to me what he told you. And so we set up our warning to all travellers who may still walk the path. We then returned here immediately.”
“Ah, so it is true.” Said María, raising an eyebrow. “You truly are a friend of the elves, Balzer?”
“Well, you could say that.” Balzer looked down at his feet. “But…the elves are friends of no one right now. They are the air race; the most pure race in the land. They look down upon us with a certain amount scorn, I’m afraid to say. Not so long ago, the reverse was true. But times change, of course, and though I am still regarded fairly highly with them, I would expect that they have forgotten of me.”
At this point he fell silent. A tension had broken into the air. Breaking the awkward silence, Balzer said, “I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but it’s best to know now, rather than when it’s to late and your are murdered in your sleep.”
“Of course; I thank you for trusting my son enough to tell him too, even though the events have clearly shocked you. On the matter of you befriending the eastern elves, I shall pry no further, though it does increase the thick mystery around you.” Balzer acknowledged this with an inclination of his head. “Now remains one more matter for us to discuss. That is, the course of action. After hearing what you have had to say, provided that it is of truth, then I have no inclination to stay here.”
Xavier looked suddenly up at his mother, shocked at this statement. “But this is our history, our heritage. Are we to leave all this behind?”
“What must be done will be done. There is always the chance that the…changed could stray upon our house and destroy it, even. Remember that the trees you have planted only protect one side of the path. It would not take long for them to find a less direct route. It is likely that they shall overlook this place, but what can one say? I have lived here as my ancestors, but go back a little further and we originated far from here. To me, this place means nothing. I watched my parents squabble over it with my aunts and uncles and now no one talks to anyone else in this family. Whatever I do now, our honour is gone anyway. This is an act of courage that we shall remember with pride – I hope. What is left for us here? How could we even survive with Alkateraz destroyed? No, I should have done this a long time ago. I would be honoured to travel with Mr. Balzer, if he so agrees?”
Balzer did not display any feelings at this revelation, or at least he did not let any show on his face. “You shall be most welcome. It is not my decision anyway; you have the food and accommodation. I should be grateful to you to come, truth be told. The journey to Ferramor is not as straightforward as it may seem. With my thinkin’ we should leave early tomorrow morn. It is of no use to leave this morning with us all lacking of sleep and preparation. I have not slept all night and the two of you have fared little better. We should try and grab some sleep before the day truly begins.
“Wait.” Xavier looked at the light coming in from the window. It now had an orange tint and was much brighter. He motioned the two adults up. He led them out of the kitchen and out of the house. Shivering, they followed him a little way up the path. He then turned sharply into a thin, winding track that made its steep way up into the hills which watched over the ridge running along the top of the cliffs that lined the coast as far as the eye could see. Trudging up it, they were out of breath once they reached the top. Without a word, Xavier led them onwards across the top of the smooth, rolling peaks. Soon a grim watch tower was in sight. It stood as tall as three houses stood on top of one another. Its complete blackness made it look even more unnatural in the midst of the vegetation that surrounded its base. Balzer stopped to gaze upon it. “Ah, Egilem Pir - the cursed tower.” The other two stopped beside him. “Watch and see,” was all Xavier would say. They looked upon it with their backs to the sea. The sun steadily rose behind it, to the east. As time passed the sun grew higher in the sky and more colours were added to the heady mix of light. María and Balzer shifted uncomfortably, but Xavier knew what to expect. “Aye I do not like to be so near to the cursed tower,” muttered Balzer, but he remained standing next to Xavier. Then the light began to catch on the broken glass which stretched right the way around the top of the tower as huge windows. Patterns began to emerge on the ground further towards the tower. Xavier waited patiently, the others with baited breath. As more scratches and cracks in the glass stretched the light before returning it to its chosen path, the range of colours grew as did the jagged patterns, which now grew to their feet. They grew up the watchers’ legs like mystic vines, covering them from head to toe. It was a breathtaking sight, as the still gentle heat from the sun warmed their upturned faces. The watchtower’s windows now shimmered with intensity, while the main body remained blacker than ever. “Light out of darkness…good out of evil,” murmured Balzer. “That is truly the way to experience a sun rise! This is the greatest beauty I have experienced since my time with the elves!”
Now that there was full light to see in, Xavier studied Balzer. The man had shaggy long dark hair. A think beard grew around his strong jaw, though it was kept at a reasonable length. A smile was curled around his mouth. Xavier knew he could trust him, from this appearance alone. Here was a strong, honourable man. Deep furrows lined his face, accompanied by countless other markings. They were like a network of veins, spreading from the main arteries. Xavier thought he could see where the man had been crying for the loss of his daughter, and only child by what he had told them.