The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (22 page)

Taking his eyes off the door, he turned
back to the swirling images within. What was this? From an eagle's
point of view he saw a great valley set between two mountain
ranges, a large, snake-shaped wilted forest filling the otherwise
green landscape.
What are you showing
me?
he asked the vision. Then his vantage point rose
dramatically out of the valley and into the sky, a strange blending
of day and night. The twin moons were brightly there--blood red.
Randor heard screaming, though he could not tell whether it came
from outside the room or from the vision. The screams intensified
as the moons grew larger. Beldas began to crumble and glowed
orange, burning away from the heavens, and in a gigantic flash, the
moon was gone, along with the demonic cries.

"Permission was not given to you," the Oracle
spoke, startling Randor as he came from behind. "I thought I could
trust you. Now I find you in my inner chambers, hoarding for
yourself visions that only I am blessed to see."

"I came to set you free," Randor replied
sharply.

"Why?"

"Your mansion is not safe anymore."

"Impossible," the Oracle laughed.

"Are you not aware of this?"

"I am all-knowing, my wizard."

"Quickly, we must flee together!" Randor
turned and started away, but looking over his shoulder, he found
that he was alone in his escape. The Oracle remained at his radiant
light, unwilling to move. "Are you staying?"

"What did you see, Randor?" he asked,
disregarding the urgency.

"We have not the time to discuss this
now."

"The door is sealed. We will not leave until
I receive my answers." He looked at Randor with a serious
expression.

Randor kept his attention on the door,
wanting to break down the way to his company in need. The Oracle
boiled with eagerness, not caring what happened to his home.
Stretching forth his arm, he said softly, "Come, my friend."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Randor, not
understanding. Hoping to humor the Oracle into letting him escape,
he returned and stood beside the light, feigning cooperation.

"What visions of mine did you see?"

"It showed what might well be happening just
outside your chambers. Two scenarios played for me, and I do not
know which is truth--if either is."

"Please continue."

Randor did not wish to think upon the other
vision he saw, for it was too disturbing. Never had he felt such
despair and hopelessness before. He attempted to place a name on
the land he saw, but it was destroyed beyond all recognition. "The
light showed me a long valley lying between two snowcapped mountain
ranges. Within the valley lay a dead and wilted forest of pine that
stretched beyond the horizon."

"This is interesting."

"Just as I was about to figure what it meant,
the sky captured the image and revealed both moons." Randor began
to sweat, his cloak growing heavier from the humidity. "Beldas
shone bright orange and was consumed by leaping pillars of fire as
it began to split open in all directions."

"I have seen this as well."

"Then it vanished in a great flash of blue
light." Further detail flooded his mind. "I heard the sounds of
screams."

"Your senses serve you well."

"What did you gather from this?"

The Oracle shook his head as he probed into
his collection of visions. "If I had known this, your quest would
have had a superior beginning." He paused. "But you begin in a way
that I find not apt."

"It certainly has given me less hope in my
quest. From what it seems, the moon has been destroyed in the
heavens." The theory had not yet crossed his logic--then again,
nothing was etched in stone.

"It is likely," the Oracle admitted.

"Perhaps it is," Randor replied. "For the
time being I will not think it so. I believe Beldas is here on
Londor…somewhere." The pool of light faded as the Oracle made haste
for the door. It was Randor now who hesitated, but only for a split
instant; then both hurried back to join the battle.

"How did they break through my barrier?"
asked the Oracle as they reached the door to his chambers. "I
become emptier as time marches along. My magic is vanishing."

"I had to lower it, I am afraid. The company
could not progress with it raised."

"And all this time I thought it had allowed
you through and kept out only evil. Ethindar is punishing me for
some reason."

"He would never do that," Randor comforted.
"It is not His way." And swinging the door wide, he said, "Lead us
out of here."

The Oracle nodded and steeled himself to
leave his chambers. Two thousand years of solitude would now be
undone, and he did not look forward to this. Randor took a deep
breath and sprinted forward.

* * *

Despite the ranks of snarling, slavering
Mazazuken relentlessly driving in at the company, no injuries had
come to the seven yet. Piles of fallen werewolves lay at their feet
and beyond, and their swords slung blood against the walls and onto
one another's armor and clothing. The Northern elves were guided by
a blind madness of revenge against their ancient foes, and Gildan
and Malander took pleasure in the howls of the dying as the
never-ending legions of Yindraken's army poured through the
mansion's front door. How lucky that this countless clan wasn't in
full number the night before, or things would have gone much
differently for the little company of fighters. There was no sign
of the Mazazuken leader anywhere, though Geil searched the crowd
many times over between slashes of his sword.

"Keep close together!" Gildan yelled out,
noticing a small opening in the formation. "None shall get past
us!" In the back of his mind Gildan worried for Randor, who had
disappeared many minutes ago and should be back by now.

Seth, too, was worried, knowing nothing of
the turmoil behind the door to the Oracle's chambers. "We should go
after Randor!" he shouted as he pulled his blade from between the
ribs of a dying werewolf. "His magic could annihilate this entire
horde!"

"We have orders to stand fast!" Geil
replied.

As if in answer, the door to the chambers
burst open, spilling out Randor and the Oracle. After two steps,
Randor halted his charge and stared in disbelief at the hundreds of
foul creatures before him.

The Oracle stood frozen behind the wizard,
dismayed that he had been unable to perceive the attack. In all its
thousands of years, his mansion had never been invaded. There was
nothing here of any real material worth, and no one of any
importance dwelled with the Oracle. He did not hold himself highly,
and the thought that anyone should want him was ludicrous. "This I
do not understand," he said softly, his strength and willpower
ebbing away at the horrid sight.

"They seek you out," Randor informed him,
grabbing the Oracle's frail arm. "This is why you must escape with
us at once!"

"There is no way clear to get out--all my
doors are blocked by these…creatures."

"Then let us
make
a way," Randor replied with an unexpected
smile. He felt ready to wield his magic--a very uncommon feeling.
"Are your offensive spells functional?"

"I should guess they are," the Oracle
answered uncertainly. Not all his gifts were completely gone, but
the collection of offensive spells he knew were long unpracticed.
Nevertheless, he would try to harness what he could. "We shall soon
find out together."

The company did not notice Randor and
the Oracle until they heard Randor calling out,
"Nara sen mothor lei nara!"
The seven knew that
it was a spell, and kept their senses sharp to watch where the
magic would strike. Calling out the spell, Randor conjured four
small flames of a brilliant blue, each hovering around his hand. He
scoured the room for a major weakness and soon found it, in the
center of the room. There stood the two largest pillars of the
Oracle's mansion, not yet destroyed by the Mazazuken pillaging, and
also the heart of the Mazazuken pack. This was the chance he
needed, and the outcome would surely benefit the cause. Placing his
hands one atop the other, he took the projectiles of blue light and
reached back for momentum. Then Randor squinted his eyes in
concentration and let loose his talent with a fierce outstretching
of the right hand. The four orbs of streaking fire roared across
the room, and in three seconds the magic hit its mark perfectly. As
the two mighty columns crumbled atop the doomed werewolves, fire
and stone ripped through the evil horde, annihilating all it
consumed. Severed and burned body parts scattered in all
directions, flying over the heads of the still untouched clan
minions, who continued to charge inward.

The Oracle, meanwhile, conjured a wordless
enchantment, striking rapid beams of the purest light from his
fingers from one end of the room to the other. As his magic hit the
marble floor it shredded the polished surface into jagged boulders
that served as weaponry. The Mazazuken juggernaut seemed to grow
weak, and what resolve they had trailed away to nothing.

"They are scattered!" Seth cried with
excitement.

The once thick lines of beasts wilted into
handfuls of condemned victims for the company's blades. Randor
escorted the Oracle carefully down the stairs and asked quickly,
"Which way to the southernmost door?"

"South?" Arnanor replied, shocked. "Our
horses and supplies lie outside the northern gate. We must retrieve
them before we escape!"

"They are either dead or captured by now,"
Randor answered grimly. The prince did not wish to hear this. "With
all the werewolves that passed our steeds, you honestly believe
they remain untouched?"

"Well…"

"Nonsense, foolish elf!" Randor pressed his
way through the company and asked again, "Which way to the south
entrance?" The Oracle could only point to a door to his immediate
left, and Randor shouted, "Follow me!"

The Oracle opened the way with a slight
gesture of his freed hand. Down they went into dim passage. The air
smelled sweeter, and the path was narrow, obliging them to move in
single file. As Malander entered last, he turned about and slammed
the door, hoping it would hold out the remaining enemy. He had had
a fair share of killing, more than enough to quench his desires for
the moment.

"What next?" Randor demanded. Not receiving
an answer from the rattled Oracle, he shouted, "Tell me!" The
Oracle caught his wind and pointed straight into the corridor
ahead. "Are you certain?"

"It curves a bit, but trust me, you shall see
the steps to freedom in little time."

"Will that door behind us hold?" Seth asked
as he looked over his shoulder.

"It will hold long enough for our purposes.
Magic does not keep us alone, but all we need are a few
seconds."

"Seconds!" Seth shouted, wishing they could
move faster. Panic gnawed at the young knight, and he felt
exhausted. But life was at stake, and rest would have to wait.
Growing up in the long era of peace under the Council, Seth lacked
the experience of warfare, and fatigue came too easily. Under these
new circumstances, though, his training came fast, and the lessons
would never be forgotten. "We must hurry! I can feel their breath
against our necks!"

Randor refused to acknowledge the absurd
remark and kept his brisk walk. The farther the company pressed,
the less the torches of the hallway availed them. The wizard
finally felt the curving corridor and was relieved to know they
would soon be outside, though what lay outside could only be
guessed--but he would deal with whatever came. "How much farther?"
All courtesy was gone from his speech.

"Three hundred steps more, I would say."

"Attention, everyone," Randor commanded. "As
we come to the door you will make your way down a hill, where a
large river snakes around its base. Chances are, we will become
separated in the dense forest. Meet the Oracle and me at the wooden
bridge that spans the river's narrowest point." He paused and gave
them enough time to let the order sink in. "Am I clear on
this?"

"Yes, sir!" was the complete consensus by all
except Malander.

Randor took a deep breath. "Good luck, my
friends," he said, meaning it, knowing that these might be the last
words he spoke to any of them. He picked up his speed and barely
saw the door ahead.

The air grew crisp and cooler as they
approached, and a faint glimmer of light shone through the narrow
gap under the doorway. The path behind them was still clear, but
more than once the company imagined noises at their heels. The mere
thought of pursuers certainly kept Seth's and Lorn's feet moving as
quickly as they might. Strong winds wailed in the world outside,
audible even through the thick boards of the door.

"Until we meet again," Randor spoke. His
words trailed off as he opened the way at last.

"Werewolves!" shrieked the Oracle. "There
must be hundreds more on my hill!"

"Count later!" Gildan laughed as he prepared
himself anew for battle. "To war!" he cried, racing down the hill,
weaving between the sharp-edged rocks that lay half-buried in the
thin soil. The Mazazuken were in all directions and could not be
avoided, which pleased the Northern elves to no end. As a sea of
torches approached the mansion in no apparent formation from the
werewolves, Gildan ran to greet the masses.

"What is he doing?" the Oracle asked,
astonished at the elf's lust for battle.

"His job," Malander offered as he sprinted
away to join the mercenary.

The two princes and Sir Geil followed
in Malander's shadow down the way, wielding their swords at every
step, yelling,
"Tu Trose!"

As they moved farther away from the mansion,
the tall evergreen trees grew closer together, their bases half
obscured by a light fog. Geil kept his hand, as ever, on his young
master's shoulder, leading Muron around with some difficulty.
Arnanor led the way for his kindred, now disregarding the path
taken by Gildan and Malander. The princes' path sent them up an
incline that made for a harder escape to the unseen river below.
Each direction they turned, they found dozens of their hated enemy.
Sir Geil led Arnanor now, with sword raised high. All three joined
in a premature victory cry as they stormed the hill.