Chapter 7
January 30, 2009 at 12:59 PM (Fantasy Stories, Guinivere)
The Bæzendríl
What’s turned you chicken?
They were led to a room in the largest building in the centre of the abbey. It was a long walk and Mal kept his gaze on Guin. He was worried sick. The room they were lead to was brightly lit and contained only a single bed with a nightstand and a closet. Mal lay Guin down on the bed and stepped back. Father Eli reached out and grabbed hold of Mal’s wrist, holding it up so he could see the palm of Mal’s hand. He glanced at it briefly, seeing the white mark of the Riths on it, then he turned to Guin.
He checked her temperature and felt her heart beat, glancing briefly at her necklace. He checked her arms, hands, stomach, legs, and feet for any marks. He paused slightly when he saw her injured leg. Then he sat back. “You are a Rith and she is not, yet you are both traveling with wolf Familiars, True?” he asked.
Mal nodded, his mouth dry. Eli smiled grimly. “Yes, I expected as much. Brother Samson? You must return to your duties. Send to me young Jassen with these herbs and water in a bowl with a spoon.”
Father Eli scribbled down some instructions on a piece of parchment and Samson left with a nod. Eli then turned his attention to Mal. “Why are you traveling with young Guinivere?” he asked.
Mal gave a small start and looked up into the old man’s eyes. “I had been assigned to a group of Elvin child fighters. I was to keep watch for anything unusual.” He replied softly. “Not a month after I joined them they were attacked by Dark Elves and their leader and many of their comrades were killed. There were only nineteen of them left when they started with around two score men. The oldest of them seemed a little different from the others. He was nearing the age that he would have been screened into the older troupe. Many weeks past before I noticed something strange. A young elf maid was spying on us from the bushes. We were miles from any town and she seemed oddly dressed for just a common traveler. That girl was Guin.”
Eli nodded to show his understanding and Mal continued. He told the Father everything that happened from then on. When he was finished, Eli sat back thinking to himself. Just then there came a light nock at the door. “Enter.” Eli called.
The door opened and a boy of around eighteen slipped in. He had boyish features; his brown hair was tousled and hung low over his chocolate eyes. In his hands was the herbs and water Eli had asked after. “Ah yes, Jassen. Thank you my boy.” Father Eli accepted the bowl and herbs and started mixing them together.
“Do you know what’s wrong Father Eli?” Mal asked anxiously.
“I can not be certain,” Eli replied, slipping some of the mixture between Guin’s lips, “But, judging by the way the stone is reacting and her unresponsiveness to the medicines I would say that the wizard cast a soul sending spell.”
Mal and Jassen exchanged puzzled glances. “A soul sending spell separates the soul from the body until the body can be brought to the point the soul was sent to.” Father Eli explained. “My guess – and it’s only a guess mind – is that young Guinivere’s soul is now with her brother, and the Dark Elves are tracking you to bring him her body as well.”
Mal’s face drained of all color. “What must we do?” he asked.
“If we had a wizard we could perform a soul retriever to call her back to her body.” Eli replied. “But, like as not, we have no wizard.”
Jassen’s face lit up. “Father, if you please, I know where we can find a wizard!”
“Indeed.” Eli’s eyes glinted knowingly.
Jassen was too excited to notice. “If it would please you Father, I could go get him. He is not far from here.”
“Not far indeed.” Eli muttered. “Very well young Jassen, run and fetch us a wizard.”
Jassen took off to get his wizard. He was gone many minutes before Mal started to doze off, the excitement of the day taking its toll. Eli gazed intently at the stone of Alëndril as it gleamed at Guin’s neck. “How now.” He muttered to himself. “What shall we do if this fails to work? Oh Alëndril. What do I say to the boy? How do I tell him?”
He glanced over at Mal. Mal’s head had drooped to his chest, one hand held Guin’s hand and the other clasped the hilt of his sword. Even in sleep the boy seemed to be protecting her. He cared for her, that much was obvious, but he must be aware that this attraction would lead to serious difficulties along the line. The more the boy’s love for Guin grew the harder it would be for her to rejoin her people and do what she must to destroy her brother. Yet Eli could see it had already gone too far for him to meddle in their lives.
Jassen suddenly burst into the room, startling Eli and jarring Mal once again into consciousness. “Father Eli? This is the wizard of whom I spoke.” He smiled, leading the white robe into the room. “This is the Sorcerer Andren of the Whites. He knows the spell of which you spoke.”
Andren was an elderly man with white beard and tired yet wise green eyes. His wrinkled face held a polite smile that almost hid his worry for the girl child lying on the bed. He bowed to the men in the room and leaned on his staff. “Can you really bring Guin back?” Mal asked anxiously.
“No, not I Mit-Rith Malroy.” He replied quietly. “You.”
“Me?” Mal asked in surprise.
Andren bowed his head slightly. “Too long has the power of the Riths lain forgotten.” He replied. “To long have they been shunned aside.” He looked up into Mal’s eyes. “Riths, of all beings, are the most adept at soul projections. In ages long past this allowed them to merge with their familiars. Unfortunately, the council of Riths found that this made Riths harder to keep track of and they banned such tricks from being taught. They could still use soul projections, but they couldn’t pass on the knowledge to others. Thus, now only council members know how to do this.”
The old wizard smiled. “Besides, she is more likely to follow you home than me. Just follow my directions. I can send your soul to hers, rather than take years to teach you the spell.”
“I’m ready.” Mal said firmly, tightening his hold on Guin’s hand.
“Ok. Now, I’m going to teach you the spell to bring you both back. Memorize it quickly.”
Andren pulled a scrap of parchment out of the pocket of his robes and handed it over to Mal. Mal glanced over it, using his Rith talents to burn each word into his memory, then he nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“Be careful young Malroy.” Father Eli said quietly, startling Mal who had quite forgotten that he was there. “There are evil creatures out there that could utterly destroy your soul. And you can’t even touch them. Most can’t even see them.”
“I haven’t heard of these before.” Mal said in slight disbelief.
“The Bæzendríl, soul eaters, are Galdin’s worst forces.” Eli explained. “No sword can scratch them; no magic known can harm them. They suck souls dry leaving people worse than dead. They like to possess the bodies of their victims to give themselves a physical shape. They are the only thing that can harm soul projections.”
Mal groaned inwardly. They would most likely be what Galdin had guarding his little sister.
“True, no magic can harm them.” The wizard said kindly. “But there is one spell that can scare them away for a short time. Mind you it should only be used in dire emergency.”
“I honor your judgment sir wizard.” Mal assured him. “However, I seem to lack this spell. I am no wizard.”
“No Malroy, that you are not.” Andren agreed. “But I am. I’m coming with you.”
Mal glanced at him dubiously. “Why? What’s in it for you?”
Andren looked up in shock. “Can a wizard not do anything out of the goodness of his heart?”
“No.” Mal replied. “Wizards only do something if it will benefit them in some way.”
Andren smiled. “Unfortunately this is true,” he admitted, “Would it satisfy you if I told you that I am studying Riths and I would like to observe how you act? Also, I find your link to young Guinivere quite intriguing.”
“I’m sure you do.” Mal muttered under his breath.
Andren chose to ignore him. “I have no intention of letting either of you die. Now, let’s get this over with. Hold her wrists lightly and empty your mind.”
Mal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion but he did as the wizard asked. Turning to Guin he clasped her wrists in his hands. Half closing his eyes he slipped into a meditative trance, emptying his mind and slowing his breathing like he had been taught as a pup. “Now, concentrate on young Guin.” Andren’s voice sounded faint and distant to Mal’s ears, “Get an image of her in your mind…”
The wizard’s voice faded into the distance as Mal brought to mind an image of Guin when she was spying on the soldiers, unaware that he was watching her. He saw the young elf laying unconscious on the ground as the soldiers removed weapon after weapon from her still form; he recalled her huddling against a tree, tied at the ankle and shivering with cold; the sheer hatred in her eyes as she faced the backstabbing Nors; her laughter as they raced with the wolves…
A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. “Open you’re eyes young Rith.” The wizard said gently. “We must find your young friend.”
Glancing up in wonder, Mal found himself no longer in the bright and happy abbey at Mystra. Now he was in a dark, damp castle. Ghostly figures wandered around him. Servants scrambled to dodge the soldiers who struck out at them as they rushed to complete their appointed tasks. Everybody that passed through Mal shivered as if they got a sudden chill.
“Are we in a palace of ghosts?” Mal asked Andren.
“No Malroy. They are not the ghosts,” Andren smiled, “We are… in a sense. They cannot see or hear us save on the night of the full moon.”
Suddenly, there appeared a servant with more substance than any of the others. She was covered with scars and walked with a sense of ease that none of the others had. All the soldiers ignored her and kept out of her way. Suddenly, she turned and looked right at Mal and the wizard. With a smile and a wink she slipped through a door and was gone.
“She could see us!” Mal gasped.
“Relax young Rith. Scar will not rat us out. She is a friend.” Andren’s smile softened.
“But how could she see us?” Mal asked.
“She was a High Elf seer. She is one of the very few who can see spirits.” Andren replied.
“How do you know so much?” Mal’s voice was thick with suspicion.
“I like to know what my enemy is doing.” Andren replied curtly. Then his brow creased with worry and he muttered softly, “She had less substance this time. He’s draining her will faster than I thought.”
Mal glanced at him quizzically. “Never mind.” Andren cut off the question on Mal’s lips. “We have lingered here too long. Beware the advisor. His eye can see all. Now let’s go find young Guinivere.”
Guin groaned and opened her eyes. She was in a cell that pulsed with an eerie silver glow. She glanced up and groaned again. There were two soldiers standing at the bars of her cell looking in. They each wore a pair of glittering green glasses and they were snickering to themselves. They seemed to only be able to see her if they wore the glasses and they were ghostly and without substance. They just stood there staring at her and snickering. Guin sat up and scowled at them but they just grinned all the wider. A sudden bout of cold air blew through the cell. Guin pulled her cloak closer around her to shield her body from it. “Look at her shake.” One of the soldiers sneered, “She’s scared of us.”
The other soldier suddenly went white. “If she’s scared, it’s not of us.” He muttered to his partner. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s turned you chicken all of a sudden?” the first soldier laughed.
His partner turned and ran. “Jevaal? Are we likely to hear the warning bells if we’re down here?”
That caught Jevaal’s attention. His face paled and he followed his partner very quickly.
Guin placed her head against her knees. Her strength was just starting to return and they were sending in the Bæzendríl again. Looking up she could see Galdin striding briskly toward her cell. His boots made ominous clangs against the cold stone floor and his mouth set in an evil grin that chilled her to the bone. Behind him floated two nondescript grey shapes… Bæzendríl. Galdin was the only one they wouldn’t touch.
Galdin grinned through the bars at her. The green glasses on his nose gleamed wickedly making him seem like malevolent nerd. At any other given time the image would have appeared comical but the shadowy shapes of the Bæzendríl reminded her all too clearly of the severity of the situation. “It won’t be long now, dear sister.” He told her. “My men are closing in on your Rith friend. Soon you will be returned to your body. But for now… my pets are hungry and you need to be kept under control.”
He nodded to one of the Bæzendríl and it quivered with excitement. It swooped down through the bars and stopped just in front of Guin. It stood there for a moment, and then it seemed to blur and twist together until it had twisted itself into the shape of an elf.
Guin shrank away, trying to put some distance between her and the monster. The Bæzendríl moved forward, placing its shadowy “hands” on her shoulders and turning her toward it. Its icy grip sent a freezing pain down her body, paralyzing her. Galdin watched in grim satisfaction as the Bæzendríl leaned forward, opened its mouth and clamped itself upon her lips. A searing pain rang through her body. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out.
When the Bæzendríl pulled away she fell to the ground. She felt weak and feverish and could barely support her own weight. Then the other one closed in.
~Ψ~ ~Ψ~ ~Ψ~ ~Ψ~
Mal and Andren ducked and dodged down one hallway to the next. They searched down every corridor but they couldn’t find Guin anywhere. Then, two soldiers came running right by them. One of the soldiers was grinning widely; the other’s face was a pasty white. He was grinning nervously. “She’s in for it now.” The first soldier said. “She just woke up and already he’s set those Bæzendríl things on her.”
Mal’s face drained of all color. The other soldier’s grin grew stronger. “With any luck we won’t have to guard her for much longer.”
Mal had heard enough. He took off down the corridor from which the soldiers had emerged. Andren followed close behind muttering something about headstrong Riths and rushing into danger.
When they reached the cell area Mal pushed his way through the oaken doors in his hurry to find Guin. He had barely made it through the doors however when Andren reached out and pulled him back. “Let me go Wizard!” Mal snarled, trying to pull away.
“What do you think would happen to you if you just rush in and the Bæzendríl are still in there?” Andren remarked, tightening his grip on Mal’s shoulder.
“I don’t care.” Mal replied. “They could be killing her in there. We have to get her out!”
Andren shook his head slightly, listening intently to the door. “Back!” he ordered, pushing Mal firmly through the far wall.
“What are you doing?” Mal asked, his voice rising in anger.
“Shh!” Andren scolded. “I’m trying to listen!”
Mal folded his arms across his chest and waited. He was worried. They had unleashed the Bæzendríl and there was no telling what they were doing to her. He wanted to go and save her but the wizard seemed in no hurry. He had just made up his mind to go in anyway when Andren turned to him. “Ok.” The wizard nodded to him.
Mal rushed into the cell area without giving it a second thought. He ran down the rows of cells, searching each one with his eyes as he went. All the cells looked the same. The bars and the people behind them were unsubstantial and of little importance to him. Then his eyes caught the glowing cell at the end of the row. He ran to it to see Guin’s crumpled form on the ground inside. “Guin!” he called.
She didn’t respond. Mal put his hands on the glowing bars. Suddenly a searing pain lanced up his arms as what felt like weak lightning glanced over his hands. He snatched them back with a yelp and glanced at his palms. They were red and throbbing. He cursed and kicked the bars, receiving a jolt in his foot for his efforts. He cursed again and rubbed his sore foot. “Well that was foolish.” Andren’s voice came from behind him.
Mal whirled around, his teeth clenched in anger. “I’m warning you wizard.” He growled.
Andren just smiled and knelt to examine the lock to the cell. He whistled softly to himself as he pulled out a set of thin metal lock picks. Mal raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Why waste your energy when it can be easily solved using other measures?” Andren explained. “It is a very crude lock. Obviously this cell is only used for souls.”
The lock gave way with a soft click. Almost instantly a screeching sound echoed through the cell area. “They set an alarm spell.” Andren muttered, amused.
He silenced the alarm with a wave of his hand as Mal ran into the cell and gathered up Guin’s still form. Footsteps on the stairwell announced the onslaught of soldiers. “Now Mit-Rith, give the return spell!” Andren told him. Mal was just about to when something in the spell perked his memory. “What are you waiting for?” Andren asked exasperatedly.
“There’s a memory charm in this spell.” Mal told him. “You’re trying to wipe this from my mind!”
“A plague on headstrong Riths.” Andren muttered to himself as he grabbed Mal’s elbow firmly. “Hold on.”
He muttered something under his breath that Mal couldn’t catch and they shot up through the ceiling. Galdin’s scream of rage echoed from the stones underneath them. They wasted no time but took off down the hall, trying to find a safe place to mutter the spell. They were suddenly hit by a frigid wind. “They’ve unleashed the Bæzendríl.” Andren muttered.
Mal blanched visibly. A shadowy shape had just appeared in front of them. It seemed to quiver slightly and a high-pitched ringing emanated from it. Suddenly, it was joined by more shapes that seemed to come from the shadows themselves. “I’ll hold them off.” Andren muttered to Mal. “You get the girl out of here.”
Mal shook his head. “You know the spell better than I do and I won’t leave a man behind… even if he is a wizard.”
Andren shook his head. “Foolish Rith.” Then he started to recite the spell.
Mal barely had time to mutter the counter-form of the memory charm before the world seemed to pull away from it’s self. Within moments they were back at the abbey. Mal sat back and massaged his stiff muscles. Jassen was sitting in the chair that Father Eli had occupied when they left. His head shot up as Mal stretched and he raced from the room.
Mal glanced at Andren who was leaning on his staff and messaging his neck. “I’m getting to old for this.” The wizard mumbled.
Mal grinned and glanced down at Guin. She stirred and groaned and started to cough violently. Mal leaned over and propped her up just as Eli came through the door. The aged Father looked from Mal to Guin and sighed in relief. He walked over to Guin and fed her some liquid from a flask in his hand. Immediately her coughing subsided and she fell into a peaceful and healing slumber.
Mal breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, all his strength seeped out of him and his limbs felt slow and sluggish. His mind was foggy in the way it often was after countering a memory charm. Jassen led him out of the room to a place where he could rest. He shot a glare at Andren just as he passed through the frame of the door. Eli turned to Andren. “What did you do to anger him so my old friend?” he asked
“I had a memory charm worked into the retriever spell.” Andren told him, heading to the door. “He realized it seconds before he would have recited it.”
Eli fell into step beside him, closing the door as they went. “But why my friend? Surely by now you would have realized that Riths don’t take to that sort of thing.”
“I wasn’t counting on him realizing it.” Andren replied. “I felt it would be better for them not to remember anything… especially the girl. She’s been through enough to give even a hardened warrior nightmares.”
Eli nodded. As much as he hated to admit it Andren had a point. Guin needed to rest to regain her strength. She would be safe here, able to rest. She’d be much better off with a clear mind. They would be pleased to have her here as long as she needed – though the old Father felt that the two wouldn’t stay long. And when they left, at least one person would leave with them.
