Moonsword - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When Kilfrie and Amristia came to get her, Tolian had at least managed to appear calm and composed.  They had (at last) found something other than a dress for her to wear, and that had helped tremendously.  She was still awkward and contemptuous of her new body (or more accurately what they had done to her body), but the tunic and leggings felt much more natural to her, though they did little to hide her feminine charms.  She also wasn’t too fond of the bright purple color of the garments, but they insisted that the Champion had to wear the holy lunar shade.  Brythia had helped her brush her huge mass of hair, which even Tolian had to admit looked quite nice.  She had, of course, been staring into the mirror trying to accustom herself to the sight of her reflection, almost the whole time from when Brythia departed to when the two druidesses arrived.

They led her through the large passageways that connected the vast complex that was Hyge Bryth.  Tolian found herself starting to become familiar with the place.  There was no one else to be found in any of the hallways, Tolian assumed that they all were assembled at the Council Meeting.

They stopped before a vast oaken door.  The door was carved in an ornate and intricate manner, depicting various natural scenes and animals.  Amristia knocked three times upon the wooden portal.

It opened.

Tolian could see a gigantic hall filled with thousands of druids.  They were seated in various, staggered levels, with those that were novices seated cross-legged on the floor.  Another level had seats and the druids and druidesses of the second circle (the same level as Brythia and the druidesses who had kidnapped him).  Then above them were seated the members of the high council.  Magara’s throne was raised a little above them.

Amristia and Kilfrie led Tolian across the lower level and to the second, then pointing for her to continue up on her own.

She was extremely conscious of the eyes upon her.  She looked upon the many faces she saw as she passed.  They were mostly looking with great hope on their Champion as she passed.  She tried her best to walk in as manly a manner as she could, but her consciousness of her body’s new balance made this somewhat difficult.  She stopped as she approached Magara’s throne.

Magara stood up and spoke, “Tolian, I ask you, do you accept the responsibility of Champion?”

Tolian sighed, “Yes”

Magara stepped down from the dias, “Then I place the Order of Druidry in your hand, to utilize as you see fit to defeat our evil enemy.”

She gestured for Tolian to take her place.

Tolian walked up the few steps and seated herself on the throne.  It was funny.  Throughout her life she had expected that one day she was going to take over the throne from her father, that she would one day be king of Lorm.  But that was not going to happen now, she was taking over a different throne, in a form she never would have dreamt of having.  She looked down below her, the entire hall broke out in a cheer as of one voice.

“Tolian, Tolian, Tolian,” they chanted.

She could not help but take some satisfaction in their enthusiasm.

Magara walked over to the High Council, who rose as she neared.  Five of the women walked down to the second level and five male druids took their places.  Now that the transformation had been complete, males were able to take seats on the high council again.  This was no doubt done, Tolian shrewdly guessed, out of political necessity, to keep the male druids from becoming too resentful of the druidesses.  Obviously such a change had been planned for some time.

Magara called up to Tolian, “You must welcome the men back, and address the assemblage.”

Tolian nodded.  She had been trained as a leader, of a kingdom not of a mystical order, but she assumed that there was little difference regarding the role and responsibility of authority.

She stood up, and cleared her throat.  The words came to her with ease, “Druids and Druidesses, I greet you.  I welcome back those who have wandered, and guarded, keeping this temple secure. I thank you for your efforts.  Now we must work together.  I shall count on your help in the days to come.”

It reminded her of something her father would have said.  But it suited the situation.  She realized that it would be disastrous for the rank and file to lose faith in her, which she was certain would happen if she showed any sign of weakness (or displeasure at her condition).

The crowd cheered again.

Tolian then saw that Brythia was being led forward, with loose bindings around her arms.

She was brought right to the stairs to the third level.

Magara looked to Tolian, “Lady Champion, do you pardon this member of our order?”

Tolian smiled at Brythia, whose eyes were shining with love, “I do so pardon her.”

The bindings were slipped off her arms.

Magara then called out, “The members of the first and second circles are dismissed.”

With that the druids and druidess began to file out of the hall in an orderly fashion.  Magara stepped up to Tolian, “Good work,” she said.  “That wasn’t too bad, now was it?”

Tolian said wearily, “I suppose not.  Now, is that it, or is there more?”

“There’s more.  Now we’ve got to discuss plans and strategies.”

Once the rank and file of the order had gone, Tolian and the High Council entered a spacious antechamber and seated themselves about a great table.  Wine was brought to them and a small selection of berries and cheese.  Tolian was introduced formally to the members of the high Council, new and old.  There were, seated around the table from Tolian’s left: Demvirtsa, who had been high druidess prior to Magara (she retired due to her age, but her skill in divination was second to none), Kalabred, the highest ranking of the male druids, he was polite, but regarded Tolian somewhat coolly, Righuli, Fwyrth, Saxroa, Pathik, Jiopla, Hiktaile, Morthis, and of course Magara, who was seated to Tolian’s right.

Magara addressed them, “Our purpose here this evening is to begin the process of helping the Champion determine the proper course of her action.”

Tolian surprised everyone when she spoke, “Magara, is it not true that I am now the head of this order?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll lead these discussions.”

“As you prefer,” the former high druidess deferred.  She seemed almost shocked by Tolian’s taking command.

Tolian knew what she was doing for the first time in a long while.  No one needed to teach her how to plan a military campaign, or lead a group into battle; she had been trained in these things her entire life.  Lorm was a kingdom of warriors, and Prince Tolian had been the greatest of her country’s best.  Obviously, the first move in any operation, either large of covert, was to gather the intelligence.

“You’ll have to forgive my ignorance on many of your techniques and capabilities, I shall definitely need your help.  First, I suppose, we must determine what exactly we know of the Demon’s whereabouts, weaknesses, tactics, etc.  I witnessed the Demon’s entrance into the world, but that is about all I know of him.  Have you been able to keep track of him?”

The old woman, Demvirtsa, said, “He is able to break our spirit vision, our divinations have revealed nothing.  We know nothing of his whereabouts immediately following his arrival, at least not by any magickal means.”

Kalabred, looked to Magara for a nod, before speaking, “We have several druids posted in and around the Entrine desert and the major city-states and kingdoms in the vicinity.  We have as of yet heard nothing of him.”

Kalabred spoke with a confidence that Tolian admired.  There was something in his voice, however, that let Tolian know that the druid did not have that much respect for her.  No doubt because she was a woman.  She would have to prove herself to these men, she realized, before they could ever accept her as a leader.  At the risk of sounding stupid she had to ask, “How exactly do you gather the information from these operatives?”

“Of course,” Kalabred said, “I forget that you know little of our methods.  Nature is our medium of communication.  Our messengers travel in the voice of a frog, or call of a bird.  It takes only several hours for a message to reach us from anywhere within a thousand miles of here.”

“That’s certainly an impressive technique.  I have seen it employed before.  I just had no idea how far a distance it worked.  That will be a big help.  So, apparently, the Demon is moving, that gives us more time.”

Magara interrupted, “Excuse me, My Lady, but the prophecy is clear on the amount of time we have.  By the Winter Solstice he shall be Lord of the North’.”

Tolian considered this, “Well, he’s going to have to move fast to accomplish that.  Oh, I’d prefer not to be addressed as "My Lady" if you don’t mind.  I still think of myself as a man, and would assuredly prefer to be treated as one, if possible.”

Tolian watched as the High Council nodded or mumbled in acceptance of this, but, it definitely caused some agitation.  She did not allow them any time to consider it though. She pressed on, “‘Lord of the North’, what does that mean?  Do we have any idea?”

The druid, Fwyrth answered, “It is generally thought to refer to the demon’s domination of the North’s three greatest capitals:  The City-state of Coertal City, The Throne City of Gestoia, and the Imperial Capital of Keythion.  Taking these cities, or any two of them, would give the Demon nominal rulership of the Northern Kingdoms.

“I see,” Tolian said. “How would he take these cities, militarily?”

“Possibly, the prophecy affords few clues on that count,” said Fwyrth.

“So, we know what he’s going to do, just not how he’s going to do it, or when he’s going to start.  Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Magara said.  “What we need to discuss, therefore, is how to kill the Demon, before it’s too late.”

“Okay,” said Tolian, “How do we kill the Demon, then?”

“Well,” Fwyrth said, “You’re the only one who can kill it, according to the prophecy.”

“How does that prophecy suggest I’m going to kill it?”

“By using a metal not of this earth.”

Kalabred suddenly stood up, in disgust, “This is a futile waste of time, Magara.  This woman has no idea of what she’s doing.  She may have been a man at one time, but now she’s a weak woman, what chance have we?”

Magara turned to Tolian, “Show him”

Tolian was stung by Kalabred’s words.  She stood up, “I do not need to be reminded of what you people have done to me.  But, if you think I am too weak, you have much to learn.”

She walked over to the rebellious druid, and in one swift motion lifted him, surprised and flailing, over her head.  Everyone in the room (except Magara) gasped in astonishment at the sight.  In not too gentle a fashion Tolian tossed Kalabred to the ground.  She then grabbed the heavy oak chair Kalabred had been sitting in and crushed part of it to saw dust.  She rubbed her hands clean and sat down.

“Anyone else doubt my ability to be your stupid Champion?”

“To doubt the Champion is a crime against the founders of this order.  Let this not happen again,” Magara said, directed towards Kalabred who was getting up off the floor.

Kalabred bowed, “Forgive me, um…Tolian.  I will not doubt you again.”

That’s what Tolian was counting on.  She had known that she had to make a strong statement in response to his insubordination.  Hopefully, it would not be necessary again.

“Apparently,” Tolian said, “You have some sort of plan.  Perhaps it would be simpler if you told me more about this Demon, and then explain what you have derived from your Druidic Prophecy.”

Magara bowed, “As you say.  When the World was formed, a great many forces were employed by the creator.  Some of these forces were helpful in the preparation of the world, but had no place in its actual creation or maintenance.  These were forces of extreme unbalance and contention.  They were discarded and set outside of the World.  When humanity arose and our consciousness began to grow, our thoughts began to move into the other planes of existence.  The old discarded thoughts, the shells of imagined fancy, sank to the deep planes where the Forces of Unbalance churned in empty violence.  These myriad, conflicting thoughts found a home in the Chaos of the Abyss, it is from the integration of excrement of worthless thoughts and the unbalanced forces that the Demon arose.  Every dark thought that has ever been thought has been his food.  Every act of outrage or violence gave new form to his being.  He exists to destroy everything.”

As she spoke Tolian recalled, with great clarity the spirit vision she had witnessed of the Demon’s possession of Perilisk.  A chill went through her spine, and a dark cloud passed across her mind.

She spoke in a dreamy manner, “Though I saw the Demon’s entrance into the World, I was at a loss to understand what was going on.  Can someone explain it to me?”

Old Demvirtsa whispered, “There are times when the World is open to, well, let us say, to other worlds, other planes of existence.  Normally, the solstices, equinoxes and the cross quarter days, are such times.  Usually, great magickal tides are turning and shifting across all of creation during these times.  But there are other cycles, too, and they take great eons to come to pass.  Let us say that the Universe was aligned through such a power cycle that the Plane of the Unbalanced Forces, home to the Demon, came close enough that a magickal door was built that the Demon could pass through.

“Perilisk and his companions had opened up a magick door in a ceremony that was supposed to summon earth elementals, no doubt to satisfy their avarice.  Had their aims been higher, more lofty, the Demon would not have heard them.  But, their amateurishness, impatience, and baseness alerted the Demon.  Their many mistakes brought the Demon to a plane right next to ours.  When they broke the circle by throwing out the charged earth talisman, they gave the Demon entrance and mastery of the Earth.  And poor, misguided Perilisk gave the Unbalanced One his body.  Hence, it is that the Prince of Chaos walks now in the Physical World, intent on its total perversion and destruction.”

However farfetched it sounded, Tolian knew it was the truth.  She had witnesses the whole thing.  Now, it made more sense.

“ Right,” Tolian said, “I follow that part.  I understand, then, that the prophecy describes the Champion’s (er, my) nature, but why would such a being as myself have power over this Demon.”

Fwyrth explained, “There are several theories to account for the, as you say, ‘nature’ required by the Champion.  Because the Demon is a being comprised of Chaos and Unbalance, it was thought that only a being of pure Balance could successfully combat it.  Because you now have experience of both genders, you are considered, in a mystical sense, the most balanced person on the planet.  Just as Perilisk is now the most Unbalanced person.  That the reflective power of the Moon exacted your transformation, gives you an extra advantage.  It is through the power of reflection that the Light of Creation enters the World.  In our tradition, the Sun reflects the Light of the Infinite just as the Moon reflects the Sun’s Light.  The Highest Aspect of the Moon represents the Reflective Nature of the Highest Light of Existence.  It is hoped that your immersion in those transforming Lunar Rays has made you more than just a woman.  You are, in truth, a demi-goddess, charged with the Lunar Energy.  Also, since the Demon’s possession of the Earth Talisman makes him immune to attacks utilizing anything from this World, your Lunar Nature gives you an advantage there as well.”

Tolian didn’t much care for the logic, but she could the feel seed of its truth beginning to grow in her.  But then, hearing of her transformation caused her to remember what she had become.  She again stared down at herself in discomfort.  The new power did give her some confidence but it did nothing to ease the sense of humiliation and deep loss that she felt.

Magara must have noticed that Tolian was drifting towards a debilitating negativity.

“It is also considered important that the prophecy mentions, `no metal of the earth’,” she added, attempting to bring Tolian away from her thoughts of self pity.  “Perhaps, Demvirtsa, could elaborate on that for us?”

“Eh?”  asked the aged druidess, “Oh, I’d be happy to.  When Brythic wrote the Druidic Prophecy, he was uncertain about the champion, but thought he had deciphered the meaning of the line “No metal of earth shall harm him.”  It seemed clear to him that they had to devise a means of making a weapon out of a metal from some other world.  It is told that he left the order and wandered the western lands.  He eventually built a magickal system which has distilled a lunar metal out of moonlight, over the past thousand years.  He never revealed its location, but it is said to be well hidden and guarded, lest the moonstone, which would eventually be formed, fall into the wrong hands.  It is rumored that Brythic’s early researches here at Hyge Bryth, indicated that the moonmetal would be of a highly malleable, changeable nature.  An individual with enough inner strength and balance could form whatever he or she wished from the distilled lunar substance:  an arrow, an axe, a sword, whatever.  Brythic was supposedly confident that if there really was to be a champion, that they would be able to find the moonstone, and utilize it.”

“Distilled lunar substance?  I’m not sure I’m clear on that,” Tolian questioned.

“It’s claimed that Brythic devised a means to pull the essence of lunar metal from out of moonlight.”

“By some alchemy, then?”

“Well, yes. I suppose you could call it that.”

Magara put the whole thing quite succinctly, “It was decided that the best response to the Demon was to secure a champion, or excuse me, the champion.  She would then, theoretically, know where the moonstone was.  A mission should then be sent out in search of the lunar metal.  Then utilizing this weapon the Champion shall kill the demon.”

Tolian heard Magara’s words and they registered somewhere in her mind, but most of her was somewhere else.  She felt quite.  An inner certainty was coming over her.  She knew.

“A map,” she said.  “I need a map.”

“Certainly,” Kalabred said.  He fished around through a stack of papers scattered on the corner of the table.  “Here we go,”  he said as he handed Tolian the map.

As she was unfolding it, a commotion broke in from the main hall.  A young druid came in, rather nervously, “I’m sorry.  It’s just that there’s a person here who demands to see the High Council. He’s a...”

The young man was cut off as the stranger pushed his way into the room.  Tolian looked only briefly at the fellow before returning her dazed attention to the map.  Even in that short glance, she could tell that there was something extremely odd about the man.  There was a striking otherworldly aura about him, that and he had pointed ears.

Tolian heard Kalabred say, “What is the meaning of this?  Oh it’s...”

“Good Evening to you, my Druidic Friends,” the  fellow began.  “I am an emissary from the King and Queen of Faerie.  My name is Findelbres.  I bring gifts and tidings for the Champion.”

Tolian ignored the man, or whatever he was.  She was searching the map; she could feel its location.

“There,” she said.  “It’s there”.  She pointed to a spot near the western coast, in a kingdom called Threrasia.

“My sword,” Tolian said.  She hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was saying until after the words were spoken.  But she knew she was right.  It was all coming to her.

“Your sword?” Magara asked.

“The Moonstone, whose formation was set in motion by Brythic.  I shall go to Threrasia and retrieve it,” Tolian said matter-of-factly.

Confusion ran through the room.  Both Tolian’s sudden announcement and the arrival of the faerie messenger had galvanized the room into a commotion.

Tolian then looked at the man who claimed to be an emissary of the faeries.

He smiled the most unusual smile.   His appearance was peculiar.  His clothing was of the most delicate finery, his hair was silver, but he was not old, or at least he did not appear so.

Findelbres bowed low to Tolian, “I am truly enchanted by your great beauty, Lady Champion, it as though a goddess has visited the earth.”

Tolian hated both being called Lady Champion but she did not want to put too fine a point on the matter at that moment.  She was prepared to let it pass without mention, this time.

Findelbres continued, “The Lord and Lady of Faerie wish to lend their support and blessing to your mission, and have sent me with gifts and something even better.”

Magara answered for Tolian, and she didn’t mind this time, as she hadn’t come out of her daze as of yet. “We thank the Folk of the Sidhe for their kindness, and we greet thee warmly at the High Council of druids.”

“I accept your generous hospitality, but allow me to present these gifts:  First, a gift for the Champion.  As her new situation in life shall require new armor, the Queen has donated her own battle armor for your use, Ma’am.”

He pulled out what at first appeared to be just a few pieces of silver connected by extremely small chains.  As Findelbres neared, Tolian realized that it was, in fact, the skimpiest armor she had ever seen.  It would barely cover her breasts. It seemed more like bathing wear than armor.

Tolian gasped, “I can’t...”

Magara jumped in, “The Champion finds the gift so spectacular, that she is speechless.  She accepts such a magickal gift with sincere gratitude.  She would, however, prefer not to be addressed as Ma’am, if possible.”

“But, of course, Dear Magara.  How thoughtless of me.  It must be quite a shock,” The Faerie turned to Tolian, “So, how’s it feel, anyway?  Do you like it better?”

Tolian turned bright red in an instant.  She glared at the impudent elf.

“Once, again, my apologies, I meant no offence, Dear Lady,” said Findelbres.  “So sorry.”

Tolian closed her eyes, “Tomorrow,” she said, “I shall depart to obtain the sword, taking with me only a small party.  We shall then make our way North and confront the Demon.”

Magara exclaimed, “Tomorrow?”

“It was you who impressed upon me the urgency of the situation.  As it is we shall be hard pressed to travel to Threrasia and then to the Northern Kingdoms prior to the Winter Solstice.”

“Then, perhaps,” Findelbres interjected, “The next gift of the Folk of the Sidhe will also come in handy.  Though, I did not bring them into the hall with me, My Lord and Lady have sent with me eight horses from their royal stables.  These are at your service and in your own stable at this time.”

“Faerie Horses!”  Kalabred was delighted.  “It is said such steeds travel as no other horses.”

“‘Tis true enough, friend druid,” Findelbres replied.

“Well,” Magara said, “That means we only have to determine who shall go with Tolian on her mission.”

“I hate to keep breaking in all the time,” Findelbres once again interrupted, “but, I have one more gift to present, and this seems a splendid time to do it.  The gift is...me.  I am to present myself for your use.  I am at your service.”

Findelbres bowed again.

Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt