Fifthwind (13 page)

"Welcome
to my mew." Vincent Woodlock said, his voice echoing against the
hard stone walls.

"Your
what?" Ben asked.

Vincent
smiled and waved off the comment as unimportant. "A mew is a secret
place of hiding."

Kyla
quickly added with more than a little sarcasm, "Mew also means
'
cage
'. This place has all the charm of a dungeon. If it
weren't for the tree, I'd never even come down here, but it's somehow
encouraging to see that even in the most unlikely of circumstances,
life can find a way to take hold."

Vincent
said, "The seed probably fell through one of the air vents decades
ago and it gets just enough light each day to keep growing. I find it
relaxing to sit under an indoor tree that constantly reminds me that
there is always hope in the world. Besides, how many scholars can
boast a tree in the middle of their library?"

Kyla
pointed to the collapsed side of the room and the now useless stairs.
"As you guessed, this used to be a sally port that allowed troops
to move beyond the outer wall. The beams here were intentionally
broken ages ago to seal the gate. Now this is a dead end."

"Which
means we'll not be disturbed," said Vincent.

Ben
marveled at the expert stonework. "I had no idea that such
masterful constructions existed here in the east. You said this place
was old...how old?"

Vincent
Woodlock stepped forward into the light. "About twenty centuries,
give or take a few years."

Ben's
jaw dropped. "Impossible!"

"You,
of all people, should be careful of what you deem to be impossible,
you've witnessed first-hand certain impossible things already and
there's much more you'll have to accept before the day is out."

Kyla
added, "It's important that you keep an open mind."

Vincent
crossed his arms and lifted his chin to look down his nose at Ben. He
looked like a teacher gearing up for a lecture. "So, are we ready
to talk? Or do you still want to play games, because if that's the
case, I've got better things to do."

Ben
reluctantly conceded, "How did you know I was lying?"

"About
the Bandits?" Vincent scoffed. "There aren't any bandits within
fifty miles of this place. No living ones at least. I've been telling
everyone around here for months now that their problems have nothing
to do with thieves and they reward my warnings with laughter and
ridicule. So, you tell me, if it wasn't bandits that paid a visit to
Mr. Haddaway... what was it?"

Ben
sighed. There didn't seem to be any reason to continue lying to the
man. "It was some kind of creature."

Vincent
shuffled toward Ben. "Some kind of creature? I've already told you
what I think they are...is it really that hard to say it out loud?"

Ben
gave in, but the words hung thickly on his lips, reluctant to let go,
"The Murg...killed Tad."

"That's
a start... anything else?"

"And
they almost did the same to me and Mason."

"And
what do you want from me?"

"I
want to know why."

Vincent
chuckled, "That's easy, they want to kill everyone." He placed
his hand on Ben's shoulder and motioned toward a chair. "Please
sit, we have much to discuss."

He
moved to the table and rummaged through the papers. He softly swore,
"I've waited so long for someone to listen... and now that I'm
faced with it, I don't know where to begin."

Kyla
said, "Father, just take your time and explain it to him. He came
here willingly to listen."

Vincent
sat heavily in a chair facing Ben and leaned forward with his elbows
on his knees. He fidgeted with his hands for a time, then opened his
mouth to speak, stopped and fidgeted some more. Finally, satisfied
that he had found the right words, he spoke.

"With
the passing of years, history can take many forms. Songs, stories,
superstitions, they are all molded by history. Some things are
remembered as truth, other things as folklore."

Vincent
swept his hand toward the numerous volumes on the shelves behind him.
"But truth dwells in the heart of all these things. Finding the
truth can be difficult... and even when you find it, it can be hard
to accept."

Ben
nodded. There were many things of late that were difficult to accept.

Vincent
continued, "For a few years now, I have been interested in one
particular story. A story that I'm convinced is based on real
events."

Ben
nodded that he understood. "The stories of the Murg."

"Right."

"But,
if those stories were real, wouldn't there be detailed accounts by
many witnesses, instead of just silly stories told to frighten
children."

Vincent
got up and moved to the shelf. He removed a large exquisitely bound
book and ran his fingers over the beautifully embossed green, leather
cover. "This is a collection of Kreggorian and Tanian myths and
folklore. Stories of old, crafted by master storytellers, poets and
bards."

He
came back to sit before Ben and rested the book across his knees.
"These stories were expertly crafted with careful attention to
detail and, over the years, were told many times by many
storytellers."

He
stopped and placed the book on Ben's lap, as if the weight of the
manuscript alone would emphasize his point. "Or, as some would
say...
carefully documented accounts by multiple witnesses
."

Ben
held no appreciation for Vincent's tactics, but the logic was
acceptable. He handed the book back to the older man. "You've made
your point, but you can't expect me to believe that everything in
that book of fairy-tales is true."

Vincent
rubbed his chin thoughtfully and admitted, "Probably not."

He
opened the book to a page near the center and turned the book around
so Ben could better see. He stabbed his finger at the page. "They
may not all be true, but this one is."

Ben
looked at the page and saw a poem entitled
The Scourge of
Stonewall
. He read the first few lines:

In
the dark days of madness
When
the bane of men roamed wild
The
Fifthwind flowed strongest
In
the heart of a child

The
Soul of the World was
Broken
by fire
By
the loss of a pure heart
To
selfless desire

Eleven
were strong to face the dark terror
In
a fortress of stone...

Ben
stopped reading and flipped through the book only to see that the
poem continued for several pages. He did not have the patience or
aspiration to read the entire text. He dryly said, "I don't
recognize this."

Vincent
closed the book and placed it back on the table. "It is the oldest
known written reference to the Murg." He waved his hand toward the
shelves of books and scrolls. "Of course there are more,
many
more. We have all heard dozens or more interesting and horrifying
tales of the creatures who live in the dark. Of all of them,
Stonewall was the first."

Vincent
closed his eyes as if cherishing the flavor of the words as he
recounted the tale. "Stonewall is a story of survival. Long ago in
an age of change, the people of this land found themselves confronted
with an absolute evil. The invasion of an enemy bent upon the
obliteration of all mankind."

Vincent
opened his eyes and continued his story. "The creatures showed no
pity and ravaged the cities and towns. The horde was unstoppable and
all seemed lost. The people called them the Murg."

Ben
considered the story for a moment and then said, "It's clear that
you believe this story to be a true account. I can accept that, but
how can you be sure that something that happened far away and long
ago has anything to do with what is happening right here, right now?"

Vincent
walked across the floor and disappeared into the darkness of the vast
chamber. His footsteps echoed until he came to a stop some distance
away. In the gloom his voice rang out, "Kyla told you that this was
once a great stronghold, a huge complex built eons ago. A fortress
this size would have been constructed in defense of a mighty foe."
Vincent slowly came back into the light with his arms wide. "Ben...
this is Stonewall."

Ben
was silent. It was not something he had expected to hear. He
struggled for words that did not come.

Vincent
took the opportunity to snatch up the book and turned to another
page. He read aloud, "
...terrible beasts of pale gray skin. Eyes
of yellow fire and an inner rage that twist their very being into a
distorted mask of horror...
" Vincent closed the book. "Sound
familiar?"

Ben
stammered, "Yes."

"That
quote is directly from The Scourge of Stonewall." Vincent reached
for a single loose paper on the side of the desk and read, "...More
than animal, but far from human. The beasts are relentless in their
desire to kill. The eyes... I will never forget the eyes!" Vincent
sat on the edge of the desk. "This is a recent description from a
credible witness right here in Kishell Springs."

"Credible
witness? Who?" Ben asked.

Vincent
tossed the single loose page to him. On the paper, Ben saw the
description Vincent had just read aloud and the signature of the
witness: Taddus Haddaway.

Vincent
moved again next to Ben. "You are not the first to see them
firsthand."

"You
knew Tad. Why didn't you say something? You said he couldn't be
trusted, that death surrounded him!"

Vincent
bowed his head, "I'm sorry for that. I never intended to dishonor
him. I had no idea that his death was imminent, or I would never have
tarnished his character in such a harsh way. The truth is that Tad
and I worked together for a brief time. Once he discovered that the
problems around here had nothing to do with thieves, our relationship
grew stronger for obvious reasons." Vincent became quiet with a far
off look on his face.

"What
happened?"

Vincent
blinked away his daydream and turned again to Ben. "I'm not sure,
everything was going well. He had a remarkable group of dedicated men
at his disposal and we were making real progress until..."

Ben
scooted up closer. "Until what?"

"He
changed. I don't know, maybe someone got to him and turned him
against me. I know you won't be able to accept this, but I think he
was somehow helping the Murg."

Ben
eased forward in his chair as if to stand. "If you had known him
like I did, you wouldn't say such a thing. I respect your opinions,
but you're wrong."

Vincent
leaned forward and placed his hand lightly on Ben's arm. "Perhaps I
am. I understand your loss of a good friend, but it is important that
we do not let his death put an end to his work. The Murg must be
stopped."

Ben
eased back in his chair as he struggled with all that he had heard up
to this point. It did not seem fitting that Tad's death be shrouded
in so much mystery; that he had died by the hands of a creature born
from the pages of a fairytale.

There
were many unanswered questions in his mind, and one in particular
teased his interest. "
Fifthwind
... that poem mentioned
something called the Fifthwind. What is it?"

Vincent
perked up. "That's another reason I'm convinced the Murg are back.
The Fifthwind is an energy that ebbs and flows through this world.
The last time the Fifthwind graced us was in the time of Stonewall.
It causes both wonderful and horrible things to happen. Sometimes it
is referred to as the Soul of the World."

Vincent
squinted his eyes and moved his hand through the air. "It can't be
seen, or felt, but it's gaining strength all around us. It is
magical."

Ben
cynically ventured, "So, this Fifthwind is a magical energy that is
responsible for the appearance of make-believe monsters in the
woods?"

"Your
sarcasm does not amuse me, but don't take your own words too lightly.
Your analysis, though spoken in jest, is essentially accurate. You
have to open your mind and believe."

"That's
a lot to ask."

Vincent
pointed to Ben's wounds. "Is that not proof enough?"

"I'll
admit that I don't have an explanation for what attacked me. I'll
even consider the possibility that they are the same creatures that
were once, long ago, known as the Murg. But to suggest that they've
come back because of some invisible, magical force is a bit much."

Vincent
stood and paced. "It's a complicated matter to explain, you can't
just simplify it that way. The Fifthwind is responsible for many
unusual events we are now experiencing. As the strength of the
Fifthwind increases, so will its effect on the land."

"Like
the appearance of the Murg," Ben said, trying to understand.

Vincent
stopped and raised a pointed finger. "Yes, but the Murg are just
the beginning."

"There's
more?"

"The
Fifthwind connects all things. It moves through this world and
touches us in special ways and breathes life into things we would
have thought impossible. While it is immediately apparent in the
appearance of the Murg, it will soon be apparent in even more ways.
Magic is returning to our world for the first time in ages, it would
not be uncalled for to expect change. The power of the Fifthwind is
already manifesting itself in certain unusual abilities developing in
those around us."

"Abilities?
What do you mean?"

Vincent
spoke sternly, but Ben detected a hint of pride in his voice.
"Kyla... show him."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kyla
walked a short distance away from the two men. When she turned
around, the color had drained from her face, and she had a nervous
look about her. She took a deep, wavering breath and it was clear
that she did not entirely welcome what was about to happen. She
closed her eyes and immediately stiffened as if in great pain,
throwing her head back as ropes of tension welted up in her neck.