CHAPTER THREE
The Book of Bloodbeard
Oh, Chosen Witness, may your third eye gaze far into the western horizon, five thousand miles from the deceit of Skul’haven, across oceans and continents, to the honorable griff kingdom of Brizzlebane! Behold! Their capital city, known as the Armored Isles stands at the crux of destiny, as the fate of Terrynmen continues to unfold. Oh, Great Prophet, listen closely as the soft percussion of peace progresses to the drumbeat of battle.
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The Armored Isles appeared as a tropical archipelago in the midst of deep turquoise waters. Yet this was just an illusion of the landscape. In actuality, the Isles were a network of heavily vegetated hills, which were surrounded by blue dunes of sand that rolled into the horizon like rippling waves. The aquatic likeness of the mysterious sapphire desert was further enhanced by the sails of modified ships, which caught the Trade Winds and cruised on giant skis across the azure sea of sand.
The sun was fixed in an eternal midday position, which bleached the many stone structures that were nested in the island-like hills. Even the roads were colorless and wrapped around the lush green peaks like albino serpents. The Isles were interconnected by a web of white drawbridges that extended into tall limestone walls, which guarded each hill from outside threats.
Recently, the Armored Isles had been set ablaze with rumors of war, which spread through the streets like raging wildfires. Thousands of four-armed, battle-readied soldiers stood on high alert to defend their homeland. Safeguarding Brizzlebane was the shared responsibility of all griffs. Every man, woman and child sharpened their blades with great zeal, as the forges of blacksmiths burned bright in preparation for battle.
No one was more ready for combat than the perimeter guard, which stood on high alert at checkpoints along the borders of Brizzlebane. They looked down from their white, craggy watchtowers that sprung forth like lighthouses shining into the fog of war. At the top of the most eastern frontier post, a young guard put down his scope and quickly descended a spiraling series of stone stairs to see his commanding officer.
The young sentry breathlessly entered the situation room of the Eastern Guard and saw his Captain standing over a table cluttered with maps that outlined various defensive strategies. The Captain’s brow was wrinkled in the depths of concentration. The officer was dressed in the same uniform as the rest of his subordinates, which was a chainmail coif and tunic, along with a deep red shirt, which proudly displayed the Bloodbeard Coat of Arms. The young guard stopped in a trained halt, saluted the officer and then shouted his distress, “Sir, a galleon approaches.”
The Captain looked up at the guard with an eyebrow cocked, “There are plenty of ships on the sands. Could you be more specific, Private?”
“Yes, sir! This galleon travels across the skies!” The young guard stated with urgency.
The Captain twisted the tip of his dark brown mustache, “Through the skies you say? Show me where.”
“Right this way, sir. The ship is heading towards the Isles quite rapidly. Let’s hope it is an ally.” The young griff stated.
The Captain grinned, “Ally or enemy, we are prepared either way; although an enemy would be much more fun to engage.”
The two griffs marched up the stairs, with apprehensive alarm. When they arrived at the peak of the watchtower the posted guards greeted the Captain with a quick salute. The regiment leader then proceeded to the most viable viewpoint of the tower and squinted his weathered eyes at a growing speck in the sky. He reached an open hand out to one of the watchmen, who was tracking the incoming object, “Corporal, your scope.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard obliged and quickly handed over his eyepiece.
The Captain twisted the scope until the approaching ship came into focus. The lens easily made it possible to look upon a mighty galleon, which seemed to ride the mystical winds of an unseen tornado. The ship was made of a dark wood and had massive black sails that branched from the top, bottom and sides of its hull. The Captain put the scope down and turned to the young guard, “With all of those sails, the ship looks like some sort of stupid fish.”
“What, sir?” The Private asked nervously.
The senior officer shook his head, “Never mind. The craft that we’ve been waiting for approaches. Spread the word that the Ebon Tempest has arrived.”
“Yes, sir!” The guard said and then quickly left to follow through with the command.
The Captain folded the fingers of his top set of hands, “I wonder what news they bring from the Golden Empire.”
Another guard standing nearby, under an archway, which led to a dim room signaled for the Captain, “Sir, we are being hailed.”
“About time.” The Captain responded.
He entered a shadowy room with mystic runes written on the walls and walked towards a crystal that sat upon a two-foot tall pedestal. The crystal hummed and glowed with a prismatic light. The Captain waved his hand before the pedestal and spoke the magic word, “Kommuchata.”
Within seconds the glowing light of the crystal condensed to the center of the prism and then generated an image of a man at the helm of a ship. He wore an armored mask that hid his features, but this wasn’t unusual in times of impending battle. The stranger nodded in salutations and greeted his onlookers, “Hello my brothers. This is Cadmus Seveneye of the Ebon Tempest. I have a scheduled audience with your liege, King Rangnorg Bloodbeard. He is expecting my presence.”
The Captain of the Guard lifted his top-right hand to prepare his men for possible conflict. He then questioned the approaching ship according to procedure, “If you are Seveneye, then you’ll know the password and landing coordinates that were provided by the King’s personal agents.”
Cadmus held up a charter for passage, which bore the royal seal of King Bloodbeard himself, “I thought you’d never ask. The password is Misthlekorn and the landing coordinates are Eastern Dock, 33.7 by 3.11.”
The Captain calmed his fellow guards by lowering his hand in a signal of peace. “The required criteria is correct and accepted. My name is Logmar Ironmane. I am the Captain of the Eastern Guard. Welcome to the Armored Isles.”
Within moments, several griff heli-birds loudly soared from their battle stations, to escort the Ebon Tempest to Castle Bloodbeard. The roaring rotors of flying contraptions echoed through the sea of the sand, as they flanked the silent, majestic galleon. The convoy cruised together towards the giant limestone castle, which could be seen for miles. It was by far the largest structure in Brizzlebane and appeared as a giant boney claw, reaching for the eternal midday sun.
The winds picked up in the eastern landing docks, as the Ebon Tempest slowly approached for mooring. The heli-bird escort broke off to return to their battle stations, as many more mechanical turrets and cannons targeted the galleon, just in case there was any hint of deceit. Dockhands hurried through the blowing debris and waved their flags to signal the appropriate anchoring pad. As the Ebon Tempest lowered, the sails on the sides and the bottom of the ship folded up into the top mast, like the collapsing of a hand fan. A small pillow of air escaped from the below the ship and gently set the craft in its final landing spot.
An armed welcoming party, of red-clad guards descended onto the dock. They surrounded the visiting ship and stood ready for any surprises. The griffs watched intensely, as a previously unseen panel, opened on the side of the Ebon Tempest. A figure masked in shadows kicked out a rug from the open port. As the rug unrolled, it formed thirteen steps from the edge of the ship, to the dock below. The griffs sighed in relief, as three individuals casually exited the craft, without any signs of hostility.
The strange guests were much taller, than the stout, four-armed griffs. They were shrouded by dark blue, hooded cloaks and fine chainmail, which was further reinforced by plated armor that was fashioned with ornate, metallic buckles. Two of the strangers were men, with various scars on their faces, most likely from past battles. The other was a young woman, with the bulk of her mag
enta hair hidden by her hood. Her face was unscathed and had an alluring countenance that almost seemed supernatural. She was so beautiful, it caused many of the guards to look away nervously.
Once the three strangers made it to the dock, Cadmus Seveneye finally emerged from the ship. He briskly walked down the steps to join his crew. He then snapped his fingers and instantly, the rug stairway disappeared and the door to the Ebon Tempest closed as if it was never there.
Cadmus’ face was still covered by the silver mask, which was seen earlier in the communication crystal. He wore a hooded cloak like the rest of his associates, but his armor held a mysterious uniqueness. The griffs who were metalworkers, as much as they were soldiers, looked at Cadmus’ peculiar armor with admiration and hidden jealousy.
Suddenly, a larger heli-bird rumbled in from the east and loudly landed in a reserved anchoring pad. The blades of the chopper continued to spin, as the Captain of the Eastern Guard exited the airship. He quickly made his way through all of the other sentries that had arrived before him, and spoke with a shout, “Mr. Seveneye!”
As the engines of his heli-bird decelerated, the Captain quickly changed the loudness of his voice to a more polite tone and reintroduced himself, “I am Captain Ironmane; we spoke earlier. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, in person.”
Cadmus bowed his head, “Thank you, Captain. We appreciate your assistance in our arrival.”
Ironmane nodded, “It is my pleasure and duty. Although, I must say, we weren’t expecting you here until tomorrow.”
Cadmus replied with an unexpected grimness, “We were afraid that tomorrow may not come for Brizzlebane. It is of the utmost importance that we see King Bloodbeard, right away.”
Cadmus eagerly started towards the castle entrance, but the Captain of the Guard stopped him, “Sir, I am sorry, but before you proceed, you must remove your mask. It is a security policy recently enacted to prevent acts of terrorism.”
“I fully understand,” Cadmus nodded politely. “Although, I would like the general populace to remain unaware and unafraid of my true appearance; so I ask that no illustrations are made of my likeness.”
Captain Ironmane looked around at his guards, “Agreed.”
Cadmus placed his finger on a small bronze clip on the side of his mask. Instantly, the cover dissolved away like a waning shadow. The guards tensely gripped their sheathed swords in fear and awe of the presence before them. Many had heard tales of the legendary Cadmus Seveneye, but to see him in person was quite intimidating, even for the courageous griffs. His face was more phantom than person. It was like blue projected light on eternal ether; his gentle expressions were made of wisps of smoke. Many guards could have sworn, that at certain angles, they could see the form of a skull behind the translucent, ectoplasm flesh.
As Seveneye came closer, the griffs took a better gander at his extraordinary armor. They were shocked to see that it wasn’t armor at all; it was his body. Gears turned and pistons fired, underneath a seemingly weightless plate mail chassis. The guards stepped back superstitiously, as the mechanical man stepped forward. For all intents and purposes, Cadmus Seveneye was truly a ghost in a machine.
The specter could sense that he was being gawked at, so he turned to the Captain of the Guard with a sense of urgency, “May we proceed?”
“Aye, you may.” Ironmane nodded with approval, “The King has been alerted of your arrival and welcomes your presence. He is waiting in his throne room as we speak. Please follow me.”
As Seveneye and his crew followed the griff Captain down the dock, the blue ghost inquired, “I trust in the meantime that your guards will also watch after the Ebon Tempest.”
“It will certainly be arranged,” the Captain stated. “That is quite a beautiful ship that you have there.”
The young woman that traveled with Seveneye, spoke for the first time with a proud smile, “It’s the fastest ship under the sunlit sky.”
Cadmus frowned and shook his head, “For all of its speed, I pray that we are not too late.”
“Do you care to explain, what you are too late for? What news do you bring from the Golden Empire?” The Captain asked inquisitively.
Cadmus turned to the chaperoning guard, “I am sorry, but that I must share with your King before anyone else.”
Captain Ironmane crossed his four arms and nodded, “Understood.”
The guards and their guests traveled through the crooked white walkway into Castle Bloodbeard. The structure was very Spartan, and showed no resemblance to the regality of a palace. Although it did have all of the fine embellishments of an impenetrable stronghold. Massive limestone and coral bricks created thick ramparts that separated one area from the other. Each passageway was protected by iron gates, which were guarded by well-equipped defense forces. Additional watchmen were positioned every ten feet in strategically placed battle stations. As Seveneye’s crew was led through the hallways, they noticed opened slots along the corridors, which were most likely manned by hidden archers or mages.
Seveneye turned to Captain Ironmane, to kindly show respect, “It has been a number of years since I last strolled down these halls. Every time I return to this wonderful domain, I am always impressed. Castle Bloodbeard truly is a monument to griff architecture and defense.”
“Aye, that it is,” Ironmane smiled.
After walking through the fortified maze, the griff chaperone and his guests finally arrived at their destination. They stood before an imposing iron gate that was magically locked by two gold hammers, which crossed at its center. Behind the gate, thick oak doors bearing the Bloodbeard Crest provided another layer of security.
Several elite guards, wearing ornate, golden plate male, stood in front of the sealed entryway. They wore no helmet, in an effort to limit anything from escaping their vision. Each of these distinctive watchmen had horribly scarred tissue that uniformly disfigured the flesh around their eyes. The young woman that traveled with Seveneye, looked at them with a curious concern.
Captain Ironmane noticed the beautiful maiden’s discomfort and chuckled, “Something wrong, Milady?”
“No. No, it’s just--” She began.
“Their eyes?” Ironmane finished her sentence.
The young woman did not want to offend the guards, but replied with truthful nervousness, “Yes, I suppose. What happened?”
Seveneye, a renaissance man, seemed to jump at the chance to share his knowledge of griff lore, “These fine individuals are members of the Golden Gauntlet. They are the private guards of King Bloodbeard. In dedication to their important role, the initiation into their order requires them to cut off their own eye lids.”
“Whatever for?” The maiden gasped.
“So our watchful eyes will always be open to danger!” One of the golden-clad guards stated with zealous passion.
The hooded girl smiled, “So you speak?”
Another Gauntlet member laughed, “Of course we do. We lobbed off our eyelids, not our tongues. You’re thinking of those tandin guards, who don’t appreciate the taste of good goat roti!”
The initial zealous guard rolled his disfigured eyes at his outspoken comrade. The whole exchange caused Cadmus to chuckle. He had a fine appreciation for the warm humor that filled the hearts the griff people. Yet soon after, he quickly regained his focus on seeing the King and looked to Ironmane in an effort to hurry things along. The Captain then took control of the situation and spoke to the King’s private guards, “This is Cadmus Seveneye and his crew. King Bloodbeard is expecting their arrival.”
“We’ve been informed. You may pass.” The Gauntlet member stated. He then placed his hand on a stone, which glowed upon contact. This seemed to trigger the magical hammer-locks to disconnect from one another. Next, there was the grinding sound of an advanced gear system, which separated the gates and pulled them into slots in the wall. The crew could hear the clicks and clacks of several other locks disengaging from the other side of the heavy oak doors.
Finally, with a loud, weighted creak, the doors swung open revealing King Bloodbeard’s throne room.
As the group entered the royal chamber, the doors quickly shut behind them and mystically locked on their own. The guests then breathlessly beheld the massive throne room, which truly radiated the greatness of the griff people. Epic reliefs of national heroes were carved into the tall, ivory walls. Beautiful red tapestries, embroidered with magical hieroglyphs were displayed proudly above. The ceiling rounded off into a dome and was artistically adorned with a mosaic of gray toned tiles, which depicted the eternal midday sun and the outside sky. Yet, most eye catching of all, were the two giant statues that stood in the back corners and were nearly as tall as the ceiling itself. The statues represented the twin Bloodbeard brothers who founded the Armored Isles long ago. Though inanimate, they still appeared as watchful guards over the Royal Family.
Directly across from the entrance was a series of steps that led down into a sunken reception area, which was dedicated to those that had an audience with the King. Just beyond that and on the same level as the entrance was long table that made a half circle around the lower reception area. Many advisors and mystics sat at this table and bickered over the finer ways of seeing the future. Above them was a large marble ledge that surrounded the throne room. This area was fortified by forty members of the Golden Gauntlet, who stood so motionless, they looked like decorative suits of armor.
Above the Golden Gauntlet, there was an incline that led to two thrones. The first throne belonged to Prince Agon Bloodbeard, who unlike his forefathers, had a blonde beard, which was neatly trimmed. The Prince looked down at the guests with an irritable expression on his face. The second throne was empty. It was a silent tribute to the King’s wife, Queen Hellana Bloodbeard, who had died several years earlier.
The final series of ascending steps led up to the highest tier, where King Rangnorg Bloodbeard sat on a hard marble throne. To the right of his throne, was a communication crystal; to the left was a small, enchanted fountain, which was used for keeping time in this world with a stationary sun. The King’s hair was gray, but had many rusty red streaks that remained as a relic of his younger years. Both the King and the Prince wore iron crowns with weighted runes of tungsten, which was a traditional griff reminder that ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown’.
A royal crier loudly heralded the entry of the foreign guests, “It is my honor to announce the arrival of the dignitaries from the Golden Empire: Cadmus Seveneye and the crew of the Ebon Tempest!”
Captain Ironmane stayed by the doors, as Seveneye and his crew walked down the steps into the reception area. They all kneeled before the throne. King Bloodbeard smiled a grin void of teeth, which were lost in battles from long ago. The griff lord stood up laughing and clapped his four hands with excitement as he walked down the steps from his throne, “Cadmus Seveneye! You may rise, my friend!”
Cadmus stood as the rest of his crew continued to kneel. He was nearly three feet taller than the approaching King. The mechanical ghost gave a warm smile, “Thank you, Your Majesty. It is good to see you.”
King Rangnorg reached out his four arms and greeted Cadmus with a hardy hug. He then jested, “So it takes the threat of a war for you to finally come and visit?”
Seveneye shook his head reluctantly, “I do regret that war is usually the reason we share each other’s fellowship. How have you been?”
“I’ve been getting old,” the King laughed. “I am not as young as I used to be during our campaigns in the Veil.”
Seveneye disagreed, “I think that statement is a ruse. I bet you are as quick with a blade as you were the last time we adventured together.”
The King tugged on his beard, “My goodness, it’s been years. I believe the last time we adventured was our quest in the Pine Ridge.”
“Yes, as I recall, that ended up being quite the good time,” Seveneye reminisced.
“A good time?” King Bloodbeard laughed, “Is that how you remember it? Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I was nearly eaten alive by Baron Guis and his pack of werewolves. Thankfully you did what you have a knack of doing, and conjured up those silver axes.”
Cadmus shrugged, “Ah yes, I do remember. Didn’t you promise me that one of your artisans would craft me a wolf skin rug? To this day, I have yet to receive a furry package in the mail.”
“Believe me, I tried, but we put too many holes in their hides!” The King shouted quite theatrically. Both Bloodbeard and Seveneye nearly doubled over in laughter as they joyfully relived old times. Price Agon yawned at the pleasantries.
Cadmus quickly tried to get back to business and attempted to make his concerns known, “My good friend, as much as I would like to continue to talk about our exploits of yesteryear, I must discuss with you the importance of our presence. I know you are expecting for us to deliver news about your requests for military support from the Golden Empire, but I am afraid there is a direr situation at hand-“
King Bloodbeard interrupted the ghost by loudly clearing his throat. “Cadmus, I must apologize. As you know, my soothsayers have predicted, without a doubt, that Brizzlebane will soon be engaged in war. As you also know, our enemy has taken great precautions and used sinister dark magic to disguise their identity. My most powerful and trusted mystics have cast bones, read cards and scryed crystals; yet none of them have been able to uncover the hidden threat to our lands. This has made us a bit suspicious about everyone.”
Cadmus nodded, “I understand and believe that we can help lift this paranoia by revealing the threat to Brizzlebane. Unfortunately, I don’t want to begin with any false expectations of the Golden Empire. The Council has…”
Bloodbeard shook his head, “Wait. No you don’t understand. We have set certain safeguards in place in an effort to protect us from the eyes of our unknown enemy. I cannot discuss any further business or politics with you, until you and your crew have been reviewed by my sages. It is a matter of national security.”
Cadmus stated with frustration, “I will honor your preventive measures, but please hurry if possible. I believe that time is of the essence.”
The King nodded and then looked to the tier above the reception area, where the mystics sat. They all wore purple and green robes, except for the oldest member, who was a dark skinned griff who wore a crimson robe and a pointed red hat. He was also adorned with a variety of rings, bracelets and necklaces; each of which held a unique magical power. The King confidently introduced the old sorcerer, “Cadmus, I believe you remember my alchemist, Bol Malrithru. He now sits at the head of my Advisory of Sages. He will be conducting the investigation to confirm that you hold no allegiance to our enemies.”
Cadmus lowered his head politely, “Yes, Bol and I are quite familiar with one another.”
Bol raised one eyebrow suspiciously and spoke through his finely braided, salt and pepper colored beard, “Actually, Cadmus are we that familiar? You may have once been a friend to Brizzlebane, but you have also been gone for a long time. Perhaps you have been swayed by those that plot against us. Or maybe you are not Seveneye at all. You could easily be a doppelganger seeking to bring down the proud griff empire. I can’t place my finger on it, but something seems off about you and your crew.”
Seveneye smirked, “Please feel free to begin your investigation, Bol. You will only find our sincere desire to help the griff people, but like I said before, time is of the essence. Please expedite this. We have much to say, but I believe we have very little time to say it.”
The High Sage had a smug look on his face, “You are in luck. This will not take long. I have devised an instrument that will instantly inform me of any treacherous intentions towards Brizzlebane. No sinister soul can escape its detection, so don’t even try. It is linked to a very ancient and potent magic, which has been bestowed upon our people.”
“Bestowed by the Crimson Saint,” Cadmus knowingly added.
Bol didn’t answer, he only smiled and placed an ornate monocle
into his eye, which had a finely crafted, emerald lens. Next, he picked up a twisted wand with a long emerald embedded into its tip. Then, he waved the wand like he was tracing the outline of Cadmus and said the magic words, “Tu-trogga Parsona!”
Cadmus looked around like nothing had happened, but Malrithru’s expression showed otherwise. The sage was deeply locked in a trance through the emerald monocle. The sage spoke with an internal vibration to his voice, “State your name.”
The ghost shook his head irritably, “Bol, you know my name.”
The sage grimaced, “And as you should know, great power dwells within a name. It is linked to your soul. I need to hear it from your lips. State your name.”
“Cadmus Seveneye,” the mechanical specter barked.
From the High Sage’s perspective, the emerald lens displayed a white glowing aura around Cadmus. The white light was purer than the first fall of snow and the energy nearly filled the entire scope of the lens. Bol smirked, “It is Cadmus Seveneye; his power signature is unmistakable.”
The King smiled cautiously, “And his intentions?”
The High Sage peered out of his non-monocle eye, “Actually… He appears as noble as always, My Lord. Although, I must add, he is much more powerful than I had initially estimated, so perhaps, somehow he’s fooled--”
The King interrupted, “Cadmus has not fooled nor attempted to fool anyone. He is a friend to Brizzlebane, as we expected. Continue your examination of the rest of his crew.”
“Yes, Sire.” The sage nodded, “Cadmus Seveneye, you will be the core of the rest of this investigation. I will be using your resounding aura of truth to validate the rest of the members of the Ebon Tempest. Start by introducing the first of your crew. Please use their actual names to the best of your ability.”
Cadmus could feel precious time slipping away and introduced the first of his kneeling crew in a voice that didn’t mask his stress. He pointed to a fair-haired man with a large scar that ran down from his eye like a painful tear, “This is Adolphis, cleric of Golgoron.”
The King’s eyes lit up, “Ah, mighty Golgoron: the god of blacksmiths. The armorer of the heavens! As you must be aware, the majority of griffs also share in your worship of this honorable god.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Adolphis responded. “My hammer is just like the symbol on your gate. It is devoted to Golgoron, as a smith and as a soldier.”
Seveneye added, “Adolphis also has much experience using his hammer to smash the heads of the denizens of the Veil.”
The King chuckled, “That is my preferred use of a hammer as well. Hmm, how does he check out, Bol?”
The High Sage nodded, “He is clean.”
The King then turned to the validated cleric, “You may rise, Adolphis.”
As the cleric stood, Seveneye continued with his introductions. He gestured to his crewmember who had a head of beautiful dark curls, but a face horribly disfigured by three diagonal scars, “To my left is Praxus Martingeau. He is an expert swordsman and has been fighting at my side since the Battle of the Poisoned Fields.”
The King nodded solemnly, “Ah, I am familiar with that battle; a lot of good men were killed in that conflict.”
Praxus responded, “My brother was one of those good men. He died at the hands of the infamous warlord, Rotgus the Cruel. After my brother was slain, I looked everywhere to find peace. I finally found it during the last day of the battle, when my sword pierced Rotgus’ heart.”
This exchange seemed to spark the sudden interest of the prince. He spoke inquisitively from the height of his throne, “You are the one that killed Rotgus the Cruel? Many thought he was immortal till that day.”
Cadmus verified the claim, “Yes, I saw him dispatch the horrible villain, myself.”
King Bloodbeard nodded approvingly, “Vengeance is often the best remedy for sorrow. You did the world a favor by removing Rotgus from it.”
Bol Malrithru nodded again to confirm good intentions. The King smiled, “You may rise, Praxus.”
As the swordsman stood, Seveneye began to introduce the young maiden. Her beauty gained the attention of the Prince, who leaned forward with anticipation of hearing her name. Yet the High Sage could care less about her beauty and was more suspicious of the interference he was receiving from his lens. Cadmus recognized Bol’s unease, but introduced his third crewmember quite proudly, “This is Whisper Silvermyst. She is a Chronoblood like myself and I am currently training her in the ways of my Order--”
The King interrupted his friend again, “Another Chronoblood? That’s a rarity these days.”
Bol Malrithru began to wince, “I am receiving a strange feedback, like I have never seen before. By the gods, it’s just getting worse! It’s so bright! So bright!” The sage screamed in pain, as the monocle cracked into a thousand web-like fissures. Bol tossed it from his eye and fell back into his chair.
Captain Ironmane reached for his blade and the Golden Gauntlet followed suit, “The girl is a spy! Apprehend them!”
The King looked quite shocked, “Bol, is this the case? Is she a spy?”
“No, put your swords away!” Malrithru screamed while holding his eye, “Treacherous intentions reflect an aura of black fire. Her aura was so bright and pure, it was like focusing a telescope on the holy sun. I am sure her intentions are good, but I have never seen anything like this. In fact, I hope it wasn’t the last thing that I’ll ever see. I am still quite blind in my left eye.”
As the guards re-sheathed their swords, Adolphis spoke with a cleric’s compassion, “Your blindness may be cured through prayers to Golgoron.”
Bol waved away the notion, “Hopefully it will correct itself in due time. Right now, I believe we have more important matters at hand. Like figuring out why I was blinded in the first place. Which begs me to ask, what manner of creature are you, Whisper?”
“Perhaps it would be easier if I just showed you,” the mysterious maiden said. She then pulled back her hood and to the amazement of the King’s court, revealed stunning magenta hair that sparkled with marvelous orbs of light. The King stepped closer to observe her enchanted locks and saw a thousand stars and reflections of galaxies, which floated through her hair like a map of the heavens.
As the throne room speechlessly beheld the enchanted beauty of the maiden, Cadmus added cautiously, “I didn’t have a chance to finish her introduction. Whisper is very special and we felt it prudent not to draw too much attention to her as we made our way through your castle. Whisper is not just a Chronoblood, she’s much more…”
The King nodded with interest, “Go on.”
Cadmus continued, “Years ago, I was guided by a premonition that led me deep into the Gray Oaks. There I saw a comet shoot through the sky and then crash into the forest. I quickly found the point of impact and approached the burning crater. Inside was a molten, metal shell. I was shocked to see a young girl emerge from the scorching debris. She was completely unscathed. That young girl is the woman standing in front of you… King Rangnorg, Whisper is a star child.”
Whisper paused for a moment, then like a cloud covering the night sky, she pulled her hood back over her hair. She then simply stated, “Now you know who I am, Your Majesty.”
After a brief moment of shock, Prince Agon stood up in outrage, “By the gods, Cadmus! You’ve brought a star child here? Are you mad? You’ve cursed us all!”
Captain Ironmane concurred, “The Prince is right! A star child cannot be here! We are threatened with war; we can’t be cursed before entering this conflict! King Bloodbeard, I don’t care if our guests are dignitaries of the Golden Empire; we must immediately expel them from our lands!”
The King gave a scowling look to his son and guard, “Don’t be fools! There is no curse! That is just a mere superstition of the uneducated.”
Whisper nodded humbly, “It’s okay; I anticipated a similar reaction. Their superstitious belief is shared by most of the people in the Land Eternal. I have grown accustomed to it.”
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The King looked at Whisper kindly, “Bigotry is not something that you should have to grow used to and that kind of prejudice will not be tolerated in my throne room.” The king turned back to his court with disappointment, “Do you hear that, Agon? Do you understand, Ironmane?”
Prince Agon nodded with embarrassed anger, but Ironmane spoke with a worried apprehension, “Yes, my King.”
Rangnorg then reached his hand out to the fair maiden before him and said, “Please rise, Whisper.”
Whisper stood and bowed graciously, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“No, Whisper, it is I that should thank you… Thank you for being who you are,” the King replied. “As I said before, Chronobloods are a rarity these days. Star children are even rarer. They come to Terrynmen, perhaps once a generation. Yet, a star child who is also a Chronoblood? That is unheard of! You are perhaps the most unique creature to have walked our lands in a very long time. Please understand, Whisper, I certainly do not think that you are cursed, but you surely must be an omen.”
Cadmus Seveneye agreed, “You are right. Whisper is an omen. Star children have received the reputation of being cursed, because devastation usually follows in their wake. Yet this isn’t a relationship of cause and effect. Star children are sent to warn of impending destruction. Unfortunately, that is why we are here.”
The Prince interjected, “No, you are here because of our requests to the Golden Empire.”
Cadmus shook his head, “This goes far beyond the Empire. You requested military support, because you expect to soon be engaged in war, but I fear that the situation is much worse than that. Whisper warns of an end to this age. A brutal end, which will begin right here in the Armored Isles!”
The King shook his head in shock, “How can you know such things, with certainty?”
The star-hair maiden spoke with desperate passion, “Your Majesty, I have foreseen what will come to pass; death is coming to Brizzlebane! Yet we may still be able to save the rest of the world, but we must act now!”
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞