BDS: Chapter Four

Mordán withdrew inside the protective barriers of his thick warm fur-hooded cloak as a blast of frigid wind grazed his face. The Ice Mountain trails spread out in different paths before him. He looked around in irritation at the ice-crusted leaves on the surrounding trees and whispered a curse. After a cautious glance at his surroundings, he continued forward, his pace quickening as he moved down a darkened trail leading into an arched tunnel of dense trees.

Minutes later he stopped short in surprise when the beaten path dropped off steeply into a deep canyon. Black fragmented rocks loosened beneath him and fell from the cliffs as he peered over the steep edge. His cloak hood blew back as the wind whipped around him. Finding nothing to grasp for additional support, Mordán flattened his back against the mountain and moved forward slowly around the curvature of the cliff side. He sighed in relief when the path widened once more into a broad ledge.

Shivering, he paused only briefly then continued through a narrow crevice of two looming ice-covered peaks and on into a shadowed area. An eerie fog seeped from the crevice and swirled around him. He quickened his pace as the fog thickened. Soon, the path before him descended into a stone staircase. He surveyed the area again before following the path as it curved between a set of trees and boulders up to a large entrance leading into the mountain. Frost-laced carvings wound up the mountainside and expanded out into the head and wings of an enormous stone gawl.

Mordán continued through the set of trees leading up to the mouth of the gawl but suddenly halted. His eyes lowered to the gray tip of the arrow pointing at his throat. The fog thinned and Mordán lifted his hands in surrender as his gaze took in the multiple Vaznaun surrounding him, their bows pulled back tightly—arrows aimed at his heart and head.

"I came to speak with Craenal," Mordán spoke slowly as he surveyed his captors.

The Vaznaun in front moved aside as another approached. He studied Mordán's face closely with his orange eyes. His gray skin was etched with intricate scars and black markings. His black hair hung past his shoulders and was tied into multiple braids. Black stones, marked with strange symbols, hung from his wrists and around his neck.

After several moments, the Vaznaun stepped back and smirked. "Of course, Lord Mordán," he said in a thick accent. "Normally one could not enter the Dark Sector without invitation and be allowed to live, but Craenal has been expecting a visit from Kraudor's ruler." The Vaznaun moved to the side and held out his hand before him. "This way."

The warriors lowered their bows and allowed Mordán to pass. The Vaznaun led Mordán through the gawl entrance and into an enormous multi-tiered canyon that closely resembled the structure of a small town. Multiple lit passages led in all directions to different homes and buildings.

"Take this passage on the right," the Vaznaun said as he pointed at a path before them. "It will lead you directly to him. You go alone from here."

Mordán gave a short nod and continued down the passage as it narrowed and descended into a dark tunnel. Torches hanging along the cave wall lit the tunnel with a soft yellow glow. After pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the change in light, Mordán continued. The only sound in the tunnel was that of dripping water and the echo of his footsteps along the stone floor. He stopped when he reached a fork in the tunnels that split into several pathways. His head whipped to the side as he heard a soft, deep laugh coming from the tunnel to his right.

"You have some nerve coming here alone, Mordán," the deep voice stated with a soft growl. A large gray foot appeared in the tunnel entrance followed by the enormous shadowed frame of a Vaznaun standing at least seven feet. "The laws of your kingdom are not heeded within the mountain realm."

"Craenal," Mordán stated.

"Not bringing the star witch with you was a very bold move, especially after leading my son and his team to their doom at Aikon." Craenal stepped fully into the center tunnel to reveal the same etched scars and black markings seen across the face and skin of the other Vaznaun. Layers of black stones and gawl feathers hung from around his neck. The same stones and feathers intertwined in the braids hanging past his shoulders. The only clothing he wore was a pair of dark trousers. Two diagonal scars began at the hairline near his temple and stretched to the edge of his mouth. His orange eyes scrutinized Mordán with a look reserved for an enemy. "Follow me."

Mordán hesitated.

Craenal glanced back. "Do not worry, Lord Mordán, I have no intention of killing you…yet."

He continued down the tunnel with Mordán following him cautiously. The tunnel opened into a large cave of stone carvings and rooms that reflected a well-kept home. Craenal led Mordán past the rooms and into one furnished much like an office.

Craenal moved a book that rested on the seat of a large chair in the corner of the room and placed it on a nearby table. Other books were scattered on the floor around the chair. Mordán's eyebrows rose as he took in the scene around him, noting the shelves of books and large maps hanging on the wall. He hurried to a small fire that burned in a carved opening within the wall.

A slight smile fell across Craenal's face as he observed Mordán. "You are surprised that I do not have a female in chains or the head of a gawl hanging along my wall in place of books and parchment?"

Mordán remained silent as Craenal sat.

"The Vaznaun are known for their barbaric nature—that I don't deny," said Craenal. "However, I find that it's far more dangerous and beneficial to combine this nature with intellect. It is my preference, anyway." He raised an eyebrow. "My son did not concern himself with much of this, and now he is dead. If he had learned more about you rather than just blindly trusting in your promises, he would have never agreed to fight for you without more promise of reward or education about a light warrior's hidden ability."

"Kar's services to the kingdom are the reason your people are allowed to populate the outer regions of Kraundor," Mordán replied. "Citizens of Kraundor do not take kindly to you stealing, murdering, or injuring their families."

Craenal's deep chuckle rang throughout the room. "You have a point there. However, your arrogance deceives you. Your guard may be large in number, but I can assure you they do not control the decisions of where my warriors reside."

"I grant your people access to the lower lands, yet you still choose to live here in the Ice Mountains. Why?"

"Just because one can freely do something does not mean it is wise to do so," Craenal replied as he leaned forward. "After all, my son followed you freely and led many of the warriors in the lower lands to their demise. Would you claim that this was wise of him?"

Mordán sighed. "What happened at Aikon was unexpected. You have my sympathy for the loss of Kar and of your people. He was a great warrior."

"We have lived this fate before," Craenal continued slowly. "The ability of the light warriors is always unrevealed until they are opposed directly, despite what we have learned of their power from history. Their power is tied to changes in energetic force that flow with the times they are born in. Surely your witch has told you this." He sat back in his chair. "I have lived longer than most Vaznaun…long enough to observe the evolution of such warriors. I have experienced the power of the Mysteis, as well. It was the power of the dark Mysteis that diminished much of my race in the Elsarian Wars—"

"As it did many races," Mordán interrupted.

Craenal's expression shifted to one of irritation. "What is it that you want with me, Mordán?" he asked coldly.

"I want you to lead your warriors to fight for control of Elsaria with me," Mordán stated simply, "—continue Kar's work."

Craenal laughed a deep laugh. "And how will this request serve my people? What will the great ruler of Kraundor promise us that we could not gain for ourselves?"

"I will give you control of Androsa," Mordán stated. "All of it, including the palace."

Craenal smirked. "And where would you rule with the higher crown?"

"Alsar."

"You seem certain that you will win against the warriors. What trickery does the witch have up her cloak for you to carry such confidence?"

"A formula laced with the blood of a light warrior and Pandian—a potion to give your soldiers. It would increase their strength and stamina to match that of the light warriors.

Craenal studied Mordán thoughtfully for several moments. "So, my men would have the same physical stamina as the light warriors."

"Yes."

"And you wish to give it to the Vaznaun because the formula will destroy your own soldiers," Craenal stated rather than asking.

"Yes. Their bodies have rejected the potion up until this point."

Craenal raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think it is wise to give such power to those of my kind?"

"Why would you question it?"

"My people are difficult to control, even under my rule. It gives us a certain pleasure to exercise power and control over others—even to kill. To risk giving my warriors a potion to increase their strength may only increase this desire to the point that they will turn against anyone."

"I realize that. The formula is made to wear off after a short time, so it would be given only at necessary times and in small doses to build up tolerance."

Craenal stood. "Even with increased power, I do not have the numbers to fully supplement your armies. The Dark Sector of the mountains is limited, and I will not allow any more unskilled Vaznaun from the lower lands to enter war as Kar did. It would be the end of my race."

"Really?" Mordán looked unconvinced. "Part of the reason the Vaznaun have lasted so long is because I believe the numbers of your race to be more than what you claim. Isn't that one of the real reasons you remain in the mountains? Do they not serve as a means to mask the population of the Vaznaun?"

Craenal smirked. "You're cleverer than many give you credit for, Mordán."

"Your men will be assigned to the specific task of opposing the Spear warriors and controlling the other tribes when the time is right."

"And how will you protect your troops from the Inala?"

"I am working on a solution to that."

"More unlikely promises made to others?"

"I give you my word that you and your people will be compensated."

Craenal approached Mordán slowly until he towered over him. "I heard what you said, Lord Zye Mordán. However, I am more interested in what you do." He stepped back. "I will tell you of my requests."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want Androsa; I want the entire kingdom."

It was Mordán's turn to smirk. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It is the deal. I will make something very clear to you, Mordán. I am not my son. I do not respond to threats, and I do not act on something unless I see a clear and deserving merit in it for my people. My race has lived hidden away for years, buried and only tolerated by your kind when it could not be avoided. That has led many of my people to live in an uncivilized fashion, you see?"

"The behavior of your people has caused other races to fear your kind, Craenal. Your race would drive out or kill the citizens of Kraundor if given the chance."

"A just payment for the isolation and hardship we have endured."

Mordán cast Craenal an incredulous look. "You wish for the entire Kingdom of Kraundor to be just for the Vaznaun."

Craenal walked to a shelf and poured himself a drink of dark liquid from a glass carafe sitting on top. "Exactly. It is time my people no longer compromise with any other than those outside the kingdom. I will rule Kraundor and you can rule the rest."

Mordán sighed. "Then, you leave me no choice. When we succeed, I will grant you control of Kraundor."

Craenal gazed at Mordán skeptically. His eyes narrowed. "So easy? Why are you quick to give up this land? You must have something more to gain."

Mordán shrugged. "It's not that. We simply cannot succeed without your support."

"And I suppose your eagerness for a solution has nothing to do with a desire to do whatever it takes to retrieve the girl?" Craenal stated with a knowing gleam in his eye.

For the first time, Mordán showed anger. "You are not to mention her," he said as his fist tightened.

Craenal raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye. He raised his glass. "To Kraundor."

Later that evening, Mordán entered the lower dungeons beneath his palace. He leaned against the door frame in the room where Akila busied herself by mixing varying drops of ingredients in the flasks spread out before her.

"So, the mix of warrior and Pandian blood has continued to work?" Mordán asked.

"Yes. It remains compatible. I just have to find the right warriors for it to work on."

"Where is the light warrior's body?"

"A warrior's body disintegrates into light after it is released by spirit. Once I lifted the spell that was preserving his body, it disappeared." She glanced up. "I take it your journey to see Craenal was a success."

"As far as his word goes, yes."

"I will meet with him soon, then. To complete our next steps, you must go immediately to Rastar and offer our deal to Ralian."

"I don't think now is the time to journey to Suál."

"Even with the support of the Dark Sector Vaznaun, you will not have the power you need to defeat both the Inala and the light warriors."

"The Order may seize the opportunity to attack if they learn I am gone."

"It will not take you long. Besides, the warriors do not attack. It is not in their creed. They protect and defend."

Akila moved to face the wall at the furthest corner of the room. Silver-white light flashed in her gaze as she waved her hand across a space in the wall before her. The door to a hidden chamber released and she stepped through.

She reappeared carrying a thin book with a violet cloth cover in her hand and handed it to Mordán. "Give this to Ralian. He will know what to do with it. I have already translated the runes he will need to understand it."

Mordán studied the book. On the front cover was a single rune.