Shadow almost stumbled over a dead man on her way down. It was one of Nahad Hari’s soldiers, and his wrecked body was stretched on the rocks. But, before Shadow could understand what had happened to him, she noticed a source of light nearby. It looked like a giant firefly or pallid star floating in the air.
”Shadow, is it you?”
The melodic voice belonged to the masked man, without a doubt. He was holding a short stick, its tip glowing a pale light. It was not a flame but something Shadow had never seen before.
”Have you found the phoenix?”
”Yes…”
Shadow stepped back and away from the masked man.
”What happened to the soldier?”
”A moon wolf killed him.”
The light from the wand became brighter, and Shadow saw everything by herself when the firefly flew toward the dead body. Besides their diet on human hearts, moon wolves were known for their brutality. This time the vile creature was not hungry or, maybe, did not have time, so its victim was left in one piece. Almost. Shadow instantly recognized an extended cut going through the whole man’s body. Few steel weapons (if any) could leave such a long, straight, and deep wound.
She turned away, wishing she did not see it.
Where did the moon wolves come? They were not seen near Chipped Mountain for long. Somehow, Shadow did not feel very surprised. This night was filled with dark magic and rage; it was only logical for the vilest of all magical creatures to join the feast.
”Give me the phoenix!” hurried the masked man.
What is he going to do? thought Shadow taking off the bag and handing it over. To protect from moon wolves, we need a light much brighter than his firefly. Maybe the soldier had a flint? But there is no dry wood around anyway.
The masked man immediately pooled the sleeping bird out. The stone egg had changed since Shadow took it. Now a cobweb of thin cracks covered its surface all around. The web was glowing with pale, cold light as the bird was ready to awake. Holding it with bare hands triggered the awakening, and the web shined brighter.
Bewitched by the proceeding, Shadow watched as the masked man put the egg on the stones and, waiving his wand, started a strange ritual. He drew a few simple shapes that hung glowing right in the air and then started reciting a rhythmic poem. It was a mixture of sand speech and unknown to Shadow language. The light from the awakening phoenix started flowing toward the shapes. A milky rill was swinging in the air. Then it raced back to the wand disappearing within until this magical instrument absorbed it entirely. Finally, the verses changed: the poem became cold and harsh, and the stone egg stopped glowing—the phoenix fell into a deep sleep. Shadow felt no more internal heat coming from it.
So, this’s true… there are people who can control magic powers. The masked man quickly hid the phoenix in the bag and put it on.
”Move if you don’t want to be eaten by moon wolves,” he commanded before descending.
Too much arrogance was in his voice.
”Who are you?” said Shadow into his back, but no reply followed. ”Are you from the Crimson Alder clan?”
That seemed to be the right question, as the man stopped and turned. But, of course, Shadow was most afraid to hear ”yes” in return.
”No!” exclaimed he to her great relief. ”I would rather die than join your clan of cowards. Don’t test my patience anymore!”
It was as dark as it could only be before dawn. Staying alone was not an option if moon wolves were around. The pale light from the magic wand illuminated their way. Behind the lightened area, Shadow noticed a ghostly figure flying by. One wolf will never attack. He is waiting for his pack. Could a magical firefly stop them?So far, Shadow only heard rumors about wizards but never saw one by herself.
While descending, they soon noticed another light on the slope below and then found Nahad Hari and some of his men. One of the soldiers was severely wounded, and one was holding the last remaining torch. It was already half burned but maybe could last until the dawn as the sky in the west started to brighten. Others tried to form a circle to protect their commander and the torch bearer from the creatures of the night.
”I’ve got the phoenix!” yelled the masked man when he and Shadow were let into the defensive circle.
Shadow watched the surrounding darkness instead, not worried about receiving little credit for her efforts. There was something there: misty figures and black flocks of darkness were swirling at the edge of the light, slowly surrounding the men.
”They are going to attack!” Shadow tried to warn everyone when a few ghosts rushed towards the circle. Moon wolves had plenty of opportunities to attack, as the light of a single torch supported by a magic firefly was not enough to drive the darkness away. Dark shadows were dancing around, and from their cover, obsidian-black figures emerged, stretching their razor-sharp claws toward man. Immediately, one of the soldiers standing further from the light fell dead. Another, trying to escape the creature, stumbled upon him, and the circle was breached, bringing chaos in.
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Nahad Hari was throwing his orders at everyone. His soldiers tried to hold the defense and reach the phantoms with their swords. Two of the wolves jumped in the direction of the torch bearer, aiming to attack him from behind his back. The masked man was first to react: his magic firefly flashed brightly, illuminating the vile creatures. Lighted-up moon wolves froze at once, resembling two misshapen animals made of swirling mist with large menacing paws. Shadow stared at them for a moment, as they hung in the air without any visible support, until one of the soldiers struck the creatures with his sword and burst into pieces. This attack brought even more confusion to their ranks, and another followed immediately. It was more successful: obsidian claws cut the throat of the torch bearer. The torch fell, and, for a short moment, they were left only with magical light protecting them from death. The wand was flashing again and again, but each next flash was dimer.
I need a sword, Shadow realized. But when she stepped aside to borrow it from a dead soldier, a black mist lunged straight at her. She would probably be dead right away if she were a target, but the creature only used her to reach the masked man.
The wand flashed again, but this time something different happened: the umbral ghost did not stop frozen but instead jumped sideways and continued his attack. There was something more solid in his form than in other wolves. It did not look like a swirling cloud of the pure void that had only taken a bestial shape to be able to kill. No, this ghost moved and looked different, as if it was not emptiness but a man behind the curtains of darkness.
The light of the wand faded away. Unable to protect himself with magic, the masked man drew a dagger, and steel rattled in the darkness meeting other steel. Not fully understanding how she managed to survive until now, Shadow nevertheless tried to pull a sword from the belt of a dead man but failed. She returned to the only remaining source of light: the torch. Someone already picked it up. But then, Nahad Hari, standing beside it, pushed Shadow back toward an approaching pack of moon wolves, shielding himself and his soldiers with her.
Shadow did not have a chance to understand what happened next. She dived into an umbra and for a split second saw ghosts passing around her. Her eyes widened with terror, but then someone’s hands caught Shadow and drew her out of the dark mist.
The stranger, whoever he was, pulled her further away, holding firm her hand. They ran a few dozen feet from the fight before Shadow could escape his grip, only to realize that it was the young hilistian monk, Belrigan.
“Let’s run! Quickly!” Fear was in his voice.
Shadow had nothing behind that she would prefer to stay for. Was it safe to trust that stranger? She did not think about that. They ran together through the night. They ran fast on a rocky slope, which cost them a few more bumps and scratches, but that was nothing compared to being cut into two pieces by obsidian claws.
Moon wolves must have left them alone. The sky was brightening when they found themselves at the mountain foot by the river running on the edge of a sparse wood.
Shadow did not expect to descend that quickly, yet she was ready to accept any magic that could help her survive.
”Where are we?” Shadow asked after catching her breath. She did not remember such a place in the proximity of Phoenix Peak.
“I don’t know,” Belrigan turned his head, ”but I think your camp is that way,” he pointed down the river.
How could he know? Shadow looked there, but before she asked another question, Belrigan added:
”I need to go; my brothers are still there…” he stepped back, looking at her, turned, and dashed, immediately dissolving between the tree shades.
Shadow trudged along the river as the heat from the chase was slowly leaving her body. Soon it was bright enough for her to realize that she was not even close to the Silent Waterfall. Instead, it must have been the Dry River that marked the clan border a dozen miles west of Phoenix Peak.
Shadow kept walking in the direction Belrigan showed her when riders appeared ahead. Banishing fear, she stood straight, waiting for them to approach, ready to meet whoever they were. It turned out to be ragers of the Crimson Alder. They recognized her at once and hurried to help. Shadow drank some water and, feeling finally safe, collapsed unconscious. Before falling asleep, she only managed to warn them about the moon wolves.
As the new day began, the darkness was retreating from Phoenix Peak and hiding at the mountain foot and in the valleys. Its hungry minions retreated as well. Few Nahad Hari’s men survived that night, but the phoenix was his. At the same time, when the masked man was trying to help wounded soldiers, Gerome was running a mountainous path leading east from the Silent Waterfall in his attempt to escape.
”Good lords, have mercy…” muttered he, misstepping and nearly falling. His body was not built for long jogging. A mile uphill, and he could hardly move his legs, faltering and sweating severely.
”Blessed Sun, save me!”
He did not know whether the path was leading him to the village. He ran nevertheless, quickly glancing back on the go. The sun was still hidden behind the hills on the west, and the path was covered with shadows. While trying to stay away from the deepest of them, Gerome stopped to have some rest.
”Belrigan…” he whispered, looking back. ”What will I tell brother Viraz…and what will I tell your master?”
The path behind was empty, but shadows under the ledge to his right suddenly moved as if they were alive. A long paw stretched its way to Gerome, and the figure of a man jumped out of it. He was cranky, dressed in a hunter’s costume, and had thick shaggy hair. A fresh scar on his cheek was still bleeding. In his right hand, he was holding Belrigan by his collar.
”You lost your pup,” said the shaggy man in a husky voice. Then he threw Belrigan toward Gerome. The young man stumbled and fell to his feet. Gerome was quick to help him up.
”Good lords! How are you, my boy?”
”You smell of fear,” the man indeed sniffled. ”And also of old books, cellar, and weed. A rare blend to taste in our lands, but not something to my appetite.”
Gerome kept silent, watching him.
”But I know who you are,” continued the man.”You are one of these hilistian monks from the Zidron mountains who kill magical creatures for their powers. I heard about you. But who is this boy? Why could he enter the void path? Did you kill a moon wolf to take its soul?”
”No, we did not,” hurried to deny Gerome.
”Then he must be a child of those Libra renegades. That means you were able to protect some of them after all,” the man grinned wickedly. ”Don’t be afraid, monk. Maybe we have common enemies. Let’s talk about Libra.”
Gerome cast a desperate look at Belrigan and nodded after just a moment of hesitation.
The man grinned again.
”A wise decision indeed.”