Chapter 38

* Fantasmal Mountain *

“I can’t believe we were able to drive those creatures away from Riverbed,” Karmandrian said as he and Pathos collapsed on a bench outside the transport cave they’d just arrived in.

They were in Fantasmal Mountain’s transportation corridor, a wide hallway with dozens of rooms on either side. Each door led to either a translift or a quickener cave, allowing people to transport from designated places around the world. The rooms were sealed so that only guardians and the mandant guards that patrolled the hall could open them, even from the inside. Though the corridor was usually quite active, it was unusually empty, allowing the guardians to talk freely.

Pathos was as exhausted as his partner but had a look of exhilaration on his face. “We were highly favored, and Ace’s presence allowed us to turn the tables. I’m sure that’s what caused them to retreat. Can you imagine what we could accomplish with more of them?”

“Well, he’s an extraordinary fighter because he had years to practice and was in residence at Vinchu. If what you told me is true, it’s highly unlikely that all of his friends had similar experiences.”

Pathos nodded. “True, but this seems like a blessing from the Almighty. People from another world who have the ability to destroy the Book of War. Do you not think this is fate?”

“You speak as if the heavens are so concerned with the petty squabbles of this world,” Karmandrian said. “The Book of War may be a unique threat, but not a day goes by when people aren’t killed in fruitless wars. If we were so fortunate as to have fate on our side now, what does that say for the hundreds of years that war has reigned unchecked?”

“Karmen, your cynicism has always been your undoing. We are not pieces in a game to be moved about at the leisure of the Almighty. This world is what we make of it. We are given tools, gifts, powers, and even prophetic word to make the best decisions, but that doesn’t mean that people always will. You would blame the heavens for not intervening in our own mistakes and then at the same time toss away help when offered during our time of greatest need. There’s no pleasing someone like you.”

Karmandrian gave a weary sigh. “I just think that we should take matters in our own hands and not wait for some miracle to pop up and save us all.”

“No one’s suggesting we do nothing, that’s why wherever these monsters show up, we will fight.” Pathos clapped him on the back. “And now we have people that can help us do that and stop the Book of War for good. That, to me, is a blessing.”

Karmandrian did not feel like discussing the issue further and was spared doing so by a distraction that came in the form of another guardian exiting from a translift chamber opposite their bench. “Is that a dwarf?”

Pathos turned to see a short, muscular dwarf with deep brown hair covering the sides of his face. “I don’t believe it.” He shot to his feet. “Excuse me, Elder Hamen?”

Hamen was so focused on the task at hand that he hadn’t even noticed the two guardians sitting just across from the cave he exited. He paused, not recognizing either of them. “Do I know you?” he asked gruffly.

Pathos stepped forward. “No, but I’ve heard of you of course: the dwarf guardian of Glorandor, correct?” His expression was of one meeting a celebrity.

Hamen raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea I was so…well known.”

“Sorry,” Pathos said. “It’s just, Glorandor’s so secret. I heard about it as a child, and I’ve always been so fascinated by it. Anyway, I know guardians from all over are reporting in due to the return of the Book of War.”

This got Hamen’s attention. “So, it’s true then; you do know.”

“Know what?” Karmandrian stood now.

“That the Book of War is what is responsible for these creatures,” Hamen elaborated.

Karmandrian and Pathos gave each other confused looks. “Yes, all of the guardians have been informed as well as all high-ranking military. Are you just now finding out?” Karmandrian asked.

“It’ll be because they are so secluded in Glorandor,” Pathos realized suddenly.

“I just came from Weather Mountain, and it seems word has not reached the commander,” Hamen said. “Why is that?”

“Well, as of right now, no civilian agencies have been informed,” Pathos explained. “We’re in a delicate balance. We don’t want word to reach the general public and cause a panic. The monster attacks alone are causing enough unrest.”

The trio started down the wide corridor toward the flight of stairs that led to a set of translifts that could take them to other areas within the mountain.

“Well, this makes what I have to tell Fantasma even more urgent,” Hamen said pensively.

“Oh, you’re going to see Fantasma?” Pathos said. “You’ll probably have to wait until morning. I believe he is at the Zinidenian Islands until late this evening.”

“Curse the rocks,” Hamen said in agitation.

“What’s so urgent?” Karmandrian asked.

Hamen hesitated as they reached the staircase. He seemed to be weighing his choices. “There are people that have a special connection to everything that’s going on, including the Book of War.” He lowered his voice. “Rifts are involved. It’s very complicated.”

Pathos and Karmandrian exchanged looks again. “Rifts, and,” Karmandrian lowered his voice even more than Hamen, “another world?”

“So, you know about the off-worlders too!” Hamen shouted.

“Quiet,” Karmandrian said as he looked around, relieved that the corridor was empty apart from themselves and a few mandant guards who were far out of earshot.

“We can’t talk about this here,” Pathos said. “Let’s get someplace private.” He started up the flight of stairs and Hamen followed.

“We should find Ace too, he’ll want to hear this,” Karmandrian said. “When he left Riverbed, he said he was going to look for Tabatha. I’ll find out where they are.”

“Ace? Tabatha?” Hamen repeated, eyes wide. “Wait, I’ve heard those names before. Could it be—"

“I suspect there’s a lot you need to be caught up on,” Pathos said with a nod.

***

Pathos, Karmandrian, Hamen, and Ace were sequestered in a small lounge where all of them pooled information.

“So, this confirms that more members of the group were sent back in time,” Ace said when Hamen finished telling his story.

“Between the Weather Mountain group and the ones we have, that’s nearly half your friends accounted for,” Karmandrian said.

Ace nodded. “Plus, according to Fantasma, Jandor’s out there somewhere.”

“So, what do we do now?” Hamen asked.

“I propose that you bring your group here to the mountain,” Pathos said. “No doubt Fantasma will want to question them. There may be more information that we can glean that will help us find the others, plus they’ll be safest here.”

“I agree,” Ace said. “The more heads we have together, the better. This gives me hope that the others are still alive, wherever they are.”

Hamen stood, adjusting his robe. “It seems more than reasonable. I’ll head back to Weather Mountain now and escort them here. Would you like to come with me?” he asked Ace.

Ace shook his head. “There’s no need, I’ll see them when they get here. I want to find Tabatha and tell her the good news.”

“Then we’ll meet again shortly. I know Bernie and the others will be thrilled as well,” Hamen said as they all headed out of the small lounge.

* Weather Mountain *

Becky was much more interested in a tour of the mountain now that it was being done by Alyson. She and Bernie revisited the weather chamber where Alyson showed off her talents by producing a small, controlled tornado. After this, they went to the dormitories to see the room that Alyson shared with her roommate Pennilisa and to drop off their bags in the guest suites. They then saw some of the many classrooms where Alyson studied and followed that up with a trip to the mountain’s large library. Their last stop was the training room that Becky and Bernie saw when they first entered.

“So, I don’t get this,” Becky said as they entered the now deserted room. “Why do you learn how to fight with weapons? I thought you learned weather stuff here.”

“We do learn ‘weather stuff’ here,” Alyson chuckled, “but Weather Mountain is one of the most advanced masters schools in the world, so they teach a little of everything to prepare you for any career path. You’d be surprised how many military opportunities there are for a skilled environ. We’re required to reach a guild level of soldier to graduate and warrior if we want to even be considered as a Weather Master.”

“Well, I don’t know what that means but it sounds hard,” Becky said. “You must have really struggled.”

Alyson laughed. “Actually, that was the one area I excelled at. Most of these environs are the book-types. I had an advantage: all that sparring I did with Jandor over the years.”

“Sparring with…what?” Becky was clearly confused.

“Yeah, I uh…” Alyson realized in that moment that she’d revealed a huge secret. “I don’t know if Jandor or Terri ever told you, but when I first moved to Greengale, I was having a lot of trouble dealing with my parents’ divorce. I was angry all the time and took it out on everyone. Jandor helped me out by giving me something more constructive to do, and I really got into it.”

“Oh…” Becky didn’t know what to say to this revelation.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Alyson added quickly. “You know how Jandor is; he’ll teach anyone who’s interested.”

Bernie tried to break up the awkward moment. “So, are you saying you have guild warrior standing? What’re your proficiencies?”

“Sword, staff, and mentant sword, with a master in sword.” Alyson said proudly.

Bernie whistled. “Not bad.”

“And yet you sound skeptical,” Alyson said folding her arms. “What’s your guild standing.”

“Oh, I don’t have an official one, but I’m pretty decent with a dwarf-made sword. They don’t take too much stock in the warrior guild, though they talk about it a lot, usually about how guild rankings are ‘tamed down for the benefit of human frailty.’”

Alyson raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that a fact? Want to test that theory?” She walked over to the wall and selected a pair of swords.

Bernie grinned. “Well, it’d be nice to put my skills up against someone who’s not a dwarf.”

“Um, should you two be doing this?” Becky asked cautiously.

“Don’t worry.” Alyson tossed Bernie one of the swords and he caught it easily. “These are coated swords, the blades hurt, but they can’t cut or do too much damage. They’re for training only.”

Bernie swung the sword experimentally. “All right, let’s do this.”

Becky stood back, knowing that she wasn’t going to stop them. The look in Alyson’s blue eyes—so similar to Jandor’s when he was gearing up for a good fight—was indicator enough.

Bernie made the first move, swinging the blade high as he darted forward and slicing down so hard and fast that Becky was sure this opening move would both begin and end the fight. To her surprise, Alyson parried the blade with equal speed, almost as if expecting it. The two started fighting in earnest, their swords little more than blurs as they both attempted to gain the advantage. Neither said anything as they dueled, only the occasional grunt or murmur.

Becky was amazed at how skilled they were. She’d only ever watched Jandor fight in tournaments before, but the intensity of this fight rivaled even those. She had to remind herself that Bernie and Alyson had both been on Mendala for years and had a long time to garner their respective skills, but it still didn’t make the exhibition any less impressive.

Alyson was fluid in her movements, the blade acting like an extension of her arm. Bernie was deliberate and forceful and when the blades clashed, the sound echoed around the room. It was Alyson who eventually prevailed, getting the upper hand several minutes into the fight by moving in close, parrying her opponent’s blade, and at the same time using her free arm to elbow him hard in the chest. Catching him off guard, she struck hard, and his blade went flying.

Bernie staggered back, winded, but grinning. “You’re really good,” he said. “I don’t think I’d have been able to keep up much longer.”

 “You did well too,” Alyson complimented, not seeming fatigued at all, “but that dwarf fighting style doesn’t work well for humans; you lose stamina too quickly. Instead, you should use mentus to strengthen yourself when needed. I could show you some stuff if you like.”

Bernie nodded. “Definitely, but not now. I need to catch my breath.”

Alyson turned to Becky. “What about you, want to have a go?”

Becky held up a hand. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” Alyson said cheerfully. “I’ll go easy on you. You’re carrying around that weird weapon thing.”

Becky examined the slender bacilla that she was still carrying. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to use it.”

Hamen told her previously that it was an elf weapon, but she hadn’t learned anything about it. It was slightly thinner and shorter than a fighting staff with a leather-like grip and three wing-shaped blades at the end.

“Well, it’s like part spear, part staff; give it a try,” Alyson said.

“But—”

“Come on, I know you’ve trained with Jandor too.”

This seemed to spur Becky on. “Okay, fine, I guess.”

She stepped forward holding the bacilla like a sword, though it seemed odd to use it that way. The small blades at the tip didn’t seem designed for the weapon to be used like a sword, nor did it seem like it was meant to be used as a spear, and the grip’s position made it unwieldy to use like a staff.

“This thing makes no sense,” she muttered to herself as she took one hand from the grip and realized it felt more comfortable to only hold it one-handed.

Alyson tested her sword against the bacilla, giving it an experimental strike with the blade. Becky felt the bacilla vibrate in her hand and without meaning to, the weapon swept downward and with ease she twirled it back up as if it were a baton. It felt natural.

“Hey, do that again,” Becky said, intrigued by the move.

Alyson obliged, hitting the blade a bit harder now, trying to knock it to the side. Again, Becky was able to innately twirl it back into place. It was then she realized that the weapon was oddly weighted in a way that allowed for these types of moves easily. She started to slowly twirl the bacilla, getting used to its feel.

It was like the weapon was guiding her into a dance. She felt light on her feet and was able to move it from one hand to the other seamlessly, allowing her to twirl, spin, and jab with the blade.

“You look like a natural with it,” Alyson said impressed. “Let’s test it out.” She raised her sword and made a few careful jabs in Becky’s direction.

Becky parried them, each time a different way. The bacilla seemed best used when it was constantly in motion, spinning or twirling around Becky like a sentient protective partner, finding the attack and countering it without her having to think about it. Becky was no longer focused on what Alyson was doing, she was focused on the dance that the bacilla was leading her in. It was this fluid, natural movement that seemed to be the key to using the elfish weapon. She only had to learn the dance, following the innate prompting, to use it correctly. It was almost like she could hear music as she moved.

Alyson increased the speed of her strikes, but this seemed to only speed up the tempo of whatever song Becky was dancing to and again the bacilla parried as it twirled around her and she moved it expertly from hand to hand, forcing Alyson to step backward.

Not wanting to be outdone, Alyson moved with more earnest and landed a hard strike on the bacilla, slicing upward so that it spun from Becky’s hand and hit the floor.

Suddenly the spell was broken. Becky looked down at her empty hands. It felt like she’d lost one, but she soon realized that only the bacilla was gone. “Wow, I…”

“You did really good. I’ve never seen a weapon move like that. I bet with some training you could be amazing,” Alyson said. “I wonder if any of the masters here know how to use it.”

“Doubtful,” Bernie said picking up the bacilla and handing it back to the still-stunned Becky. “Hamen says that’s an elfish weapon. That’s probably why it’s designed so weird.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Alyson said. “I heard that only elves can use elf-made weapons the right way. I guess that means you’ll never learn to use it fully.” She gave a commiserating look. “Well, you could always get a sword,” she offered. “I’m sure they’d declare you proficient in no time since you’ve had practice.”

Becky looked up, only half hearing. “Uh, maybe, but hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

The truth was, she had only practiced with Jandor a few times, enough to learn some basics, unlike Alyson who was a regular sparring partner. As close as Becky was to Jandor, she’d never gotten into his hobby of learning to use swords and other weapons.

“Anyway, I’m going to keep this even if I don’t ever learn how to use it.” She shouldered the bacilla. “After all, it was my mom’s.”

Alyson nodded. “So, I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch. You guy’s hungry? I can show you the refectory.” She walked to the wall and hung the two practice swords.

“I could eat,” Bernie said eagerly.

“We just ate like two hours ago,” Becky said.

“Almost three,” Bernie countered defensively.

Becky rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re more like a dwarf than you want to admit.”

***

 “Hey Aly, who’re your friends?”

Alyson looked up from her potato and sausage soup to see a boy and girl approaching the round table that she was sitting at with Becky and Bernie. Both of the new arrivals wore open light-grey robes over their regular clothing and carried refectory trays laden with food.

The pale-skinned boy who first spoke was slender and wore a pair of black cargo shorts and a baggy, green sleeveless shirt. His blue eyes were half hidden by his blonde bangs. His companion was a full foot shorter with ivory skin and waist-length silver hair that cascaded down the back of her blue dress. Her slightly pointed ears were a clear indicator that she was half-elf.

Alyson beamed. “These are the friends I told you about: Charles Wordright and Pennilisa Loamhedge.” She stood. “Guys, I want you to meet two of my friends from my old life; Becky Gabbie and Bernie Steward.” Charles and Pennilisa put their trays down and everyone shook hands. “Charles and Penny are my best friends. I don’t think I’d have made it through without them,” she beamed. “They’re the only ones who know the truth about me.”

As everyone sat, Charles leaned forward, lowering his voice. “So, you two are off-worlders, just like Aly?”

Bernie nodded. “Yes, I’ve been here ten years; Becky just arrived yesterday.”

Pennilisa’s green eyes shone with excitement. “That’s amazing. So, you aren’t alone like you thought,” she said to Alyson. “But does that mean you’re leaving?”

Alyson nodded. “Probably; it looks like we might have a shot at finding the rest of our friends if we go to Fantasmal Mountain.”

“What will the mountain do without the Silver Strike?” Charles chuckled. “It’ll be dead boring around here without you.”

“The ‘Silver Strike’?” Becky repeated with a chuckle.

“It’s just a dumb name some annoying people call me,” Alyson said pointedly while glaring at Charles.

“Alyson is the best, hands down,” Pennilisa said with open admiration. “She’s not just the best environ; she can also use the Thunderstrike.”

“What’s that?” Becky asked curiously.

“It’s one of the most powerful mentant swords in existence.” Charles said. “Hard to control, even harder to use without injuring yourself in the process.”

Alyson was trying hard not to blush. “It’s not a big deal, honestly.”

“Not a big deal?” Charles leaned forward again, the light of mischief in his blue eyes. “She stole it out of its case on a dare.”

“It was your idea!” Alyson interrupted.

Charles ignored her. “Almost got herself crispy-fried, but then she managed to control the thing!”

“And a good thing too or Lina would’ve been toast,” Alyson added with an eyeroll. “So busy trying to upstage me.”

“Anyway,” Charles said, “The commander caught her and was furious, but when she saw Alyson using the sword, she was impressed. She started training her and everything, and thus ‘Silver Strike’ was born. Just one of many nicknames our little Aly has earned over the years.” He ruffled Alyson’s hair playfully. “Certainly the nicest one.”

“Get off,” Alyson slapped his hand away but was grinning all the same.

“Wow, it’s like high school here.” Becky said.

“Worse,” Alyson said immediately, though she was still smiling, “but it’s also like home. I’ll miss this place. It’s been my whole world for seven years.”

“Yeah.” Charles sighed wistfully. “I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Will you come back after you find your friends?” Pennilisa asked hopefully.

“I…” Alyson thought about this. “I don’t know.”

Becky gave her a curious look. It had never occurred to her that Alyson would want to stay, but for her, it had been seven years. She’d lived in Weather Mountain longer than she lived in Greengale. It was clear she had developed strong bonds there. Would she even want to go home after having so much of her life here on Mendala? Would it be fair to make her?

Her train of thought was cut off by the arrival of Eleanor and Hamen. “Oh good, the three of you are together,” the dwarf said. “I have exciting news. Four of your friends are waiting for you in Fantasmal Mountain.”

Becky leapt out of her seat. “Really? Who?”

Hamen quickly relayed everything he’d discussed with Ace, Pathos, and Karmandrian.

“So, Henry was the one who quickened us,” Bernie said in awe. “That’s incredible.”

Becky looked pensive. “I’m still learning all this, but it sounds like Henry will be able to bring everyone together soon.”

“That’s the hope,” Hamen said. “Though they’re not sure exactly when his staff will be repaired, and even then, there’s a chance he may have lost the connections.”

“Well, this is still good news. Let’s head to Fantasmal Mountain; I want to talk to Ace and get more information about what’s going on.” Becky stood, picking up the bacilla.

Charles and Pennilisa gave each other furtive looks.

“Well, there is one thing we must do before you leave,” Eleanor said with her usual airy voice. “Alyson must be promoted to weather master.”

“What?” Charles said in shock. “You’re being promoted? That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell us?”

Alyson was blushing again. “I just found out today while you guys were still in class.” She stood. “Commander, I thought you said that you only did this to get the Glorandor guardian here and find out about my friends. You don’t have to promote me now that we know the truth.”

“Excuse me?” Eleanor said in a faux-haughty voice. “I did not spend almost seven years honing your skills like a well-forged blade, only to have it all be for naught. You passed all of the requirements. You have earned the right to be promoted to weather master, and I’ll be quite upset if you leave without taking what is rightfully yours.”

Alyson looked slightly flustered. “But I don’t want to hold everyone up. I’m sure they’re waiting on us and all.”

“And they can wait a few more hours.” Eleanor said matter-of-factly.

Bernie stood. “Yeah, it’s fine Alyson. You should do this; you earned it.”

Becky seemed more inclined to leave immediately but felt it would be selfish to insist, so she nodded. “As long as it doesn’t take long, I’m fine with it.”

“Well good, it’s all settled.” Eleanor turned to Hamen. “How quickly can you prepare the rod for the bonding ceremony?”

Hamen gave a start. “Oh, well if I work uninterrupted and have a little help from one of your in-house guardians, I could have it done in four to five hours.”

“Use whomever you wish,” Eleanor said with a dismissive wave. “We’ll hold the ceremony right after the evening meal. It’ll give Alyson a chance to say goodbye.” She turned to Alyson. “I’m sure there are many who want to give you a proper sendoff and witness your promotion.”

Alyson’s eyes were tearing up again, and before she knew it, she was hugging Eleanor. “Thank you.” Both Charles and Pennilisa looked shocked at this.

Eleanor gave them both a stern look over Alyson’s shoulder as she released her. “Don’t either of you get any ideas.”

“I always knew she was the Commander’s favorite,” Charles muttered to Pennilisa.