III - Darkness Gathering
Malefestra!
The name burned in Aaron’s mind. He had heard it whispered, of course — heard it in old tales, darker tales than he usually liked to listen to. A master of power, a master of wickedness. In the shadow of his presence, their plan to attack Dark Anne seemed like little more than a game.
“I thought Malefestra was dead,” whispered the boy.
Bellenmore shook his head. “His kind never dies. They change. They wait. They go through times of quiet. But they always emerge again sooner or later, stronger than ever, ready to challenge anything that stands between themselves and the power they crave.”
He paused, then added, “It would make sense, in a way. If Dark Anne did find the Black Stone and bring it back with her, that might have been enough to stir Malefestra into action. Its power would call to him as surely as it called to her.”
“But why would Malefestra kill the Grangli?” asked Aaron. “Wouldn’t Dark Anne be on his side?”
“On his side, but never willing to yield to him. I suspect he killed the Grangli to show her his strength, possibly even thinking he might frighten her into submission. I don’t believe it will work; she is too fresh from exile, too aware of her own power. Though it could never match his, she won’t surrender without a struggle. And he has managed two warnings at once with the killing of the Grangli: one to Dark Anne — and one to us.”
The witch’s shriek of rage echoed from the walls of her cave, so startling in its fury that it silenced the hissing of the serpents. Shaking her skinny fists, she cursed the name Malefestra.
“My Grangli is dead!” she screamed. “My beautiful Grangli dead. And it’s all his fault. Oh, woe to him now, too. Woe and sorrow and pain. How he shall pay for this!”
In the heat of her anger all caution was lost. She waved her hands over her cauldron and summoned an image of Malefestra. Then through that medium she sent a bolt of power with the intention of destroying the Demon King immediately.
She realized her foolishness at once, but it was too late to call the power back. The cauldron shivered. A great gash appeared in its side. Its contents poured out across the floor, thick bubbling liquid splashing about the witch’s feet. Hissing in alarm, the snakes slithered away, but several of them were too slow, and thus were boiled on the spot.
Dark Anne’s eyes bloomed large with fear. For a moment she stood like an animal that has just scented a hunter on its trail. Then she snatched something from her shelves, stalked from the cave, and headed into the woods.
“I can tell you something about this,” said the minor demon, its voice a raspy growl.
Bellenmore gestured for it to go on.
The creature adjusted its tail, then said, “It has long been rumored in the Otherworld that Malefestra would be on the move again. He has been gathering power and enlisting recruits — trolls, goblins, assorted monsters and creatures — for many months. Though you might think this would be our desire, many of us fear him.”
“Why?” asked the lizard, which was still perched on Bellenmore’s shoulder.
“We fear that if he is successful he will make our lives even more miserable than they are already.”
Bellenmore nodded. “He probably would. The problem is, how do we stop him?” He tugged at his beard and scowled himself into thought.
Aaron tried to come up with an idea, too, but it was hopeless. He knew too little about all this.
He was still trying to focus his thoughts when a voice screeched, “Bellenmore!”
“As if we didn’t have trouble enough already,” muttered the lizard.
The call had come from Dark Anne, who was approaching through the forest. Though Aaron felt a surge of terror at the sight of her, the witch raised her hands and said, “I approach in peace.”
Her voice was low and gravelly; Aaron found it somehow both terrifying and exciting.
The witch paused for a moment when she saw the crumpled form of her great flying beast, paused and closed her eyes. Then she made a sign over the broken body and walked on. Stopping a few paces from them, she said, “When the time comes we shall be enemies again, Bellenmore — unless you are willing to change your ways and hold your power less tightly. But for now, I bid you join me in confronting an enemy who would destroy us both, who has already struck at the thing I hold most — “
She paused and glanced back at the Grangli. A terrible look of grief twisted her face and a few grains of sand trickled down her withered cheek.
Aaron glanced away, embarrassed to witness such sorrow, even in an enemy. But Bellenmore was unmoved. Face stern, voice cold, he said, “I can never work with you.”
“That’s my boy,” said the lizard, in a tone so odd that Aaron really didn’t know what he meant.
The old woman sneered. “Don’t be a self-righteous idiot. You know how things were the last time Malefestra’s power was on the rise — the darkness that covered the land, the innocent blood that was shed. He makes no distinction between your folk and mine, Bellenmore. They suffer equally. Can you stop him by yourself? Will you risk the lives and safety of those who depend on you simply to avoid soiling your hands with the likes of me?” Gesturing to the minor demon, she added, “It’s not as if you’ve been pure in all your dealings until now.”
The minor demon hissed at her.
“Wait!” said Bellenmore, as the witch turned to go. When she turned back he nodded and said grimly, “You’re right, Anne. It is the only way.”
Startled, Aaron drew close to Bellenmore. “Can we do this?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “You told me there could be no compromise with her kind!”
The wizard frowned. “It is a bad idea, Aaron, and I fear it. But I see no other path. Should Malefestra conquer, there will be no choices for any of us.”
It was the minor demon who gave them the next step.
“Rumors have Malefestra’s headquarters in the Broken Tower,” it said. After some discussion, the others agreed that the minor demon should lead them there — primarily, felt Aaron, because Bellenmore and Dark Anne wanted to keep an eye on each other and neither wished to be in front.
Now that they knew their destination, it was decided, somewhat to Aaron’s dismay, that they would fly.
The night air chilled the boy as he rose into the sky at Bellenmore’s side. He liked flying. Even so, it also frightened him — mostly because he had no control over his own flight. And though it was Bellenmore who lifted him and guided him, and though he trusted the old magician with all his heart, he still found it terrifying to careen through the air at such speed — and at such a dizzying height — with no control at all.
Night-dark fields streaked by below, as did cottages, huts, the occasional town or village, and here and there a large manor house — all bound in slumber and unaware of the darkness growing among them.
At last the tower rose in view. Aaron shivered at the sight of the monstrous thing. Once tall and splendid, decorated with intricate inlays of ivory and ebony, it had been charred and battered in a clash between chaos and order a millennium ago. The top of the tower had been shattered in that war, and now it rose in jagged points. Brambles grew thick around its base.
“We must not let Malefestra know of our approach,” said Bellenmore as they neared the tower. “We dare go no closer without protection.”
Dark Anne hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she drew from her sleeve a black stone half again the size of a man’s fist. It gleamed like an ebony fire. Even Aaron could sense the crackle of power that surrounded it. “The Black Stone of Borea,” he whispered in awe. “So you did find it!”
The hag caressed the stone. “With our combined skills, we can use this to shield ourselves from the enemy’s eyes. Neither one alone, but you and I in tandem, Bellenmore, can make this magic work.”
Floating high above the ground, the magician reached forward to place his hand on the powerful stone.
For a frightening moment Aaron expected betrayal. But he saw Bellenmore smile, ever so slightly, as a thrill of power raced through him. Then the wizard’s brow darkened in concentration as Dark Anne began to chant. Working together, the two magicmakers threw a shield about the little group.
Moments later, they landed inside the top of the tower, on a narrow stone ledge — all that was left of its highest floor. Around them rose the jagged remnants of the wall. The pieces made Aaron think of giant teeth, as if he was standing inside some huge stone jaw. Looking down, they saw the next level, which was scorched and abandoned.
“Now what?” whispered the lizard.
“We go down, of course,” replied the minor demon. “Into the tower to face Malefestra. There is no other way.”
– End Chapter Three –
