THE BLACKNESS SPEWING FROM THE TOWER spiralled up into the night sky and gradually spread its way outwards, it roiled and writhed, spreading its malignant poison as it went. Lightning flashed and danced across its under surface casting a flickering glow on the land below. It had now reached the far edge of the valley and within a few hours it would spill out into the wider world.
The foul creature holding Princess Meriol skirted the very edge of the clouds as its rider steered it towards Ravens Bane. She felt helpless, wishing she had not lost her sword; at least then she may have been able to free herself and make her escape. Rain mixed with her tears of frustration as the rider turned the bat creature and pointed it at the dark tower. A crumbling parapet appeared high on the side of the keep and a unit of Goblyn guards pushed from an arched opening and rushed forward. The creature hovered above the stonework, leathery wings beating wildly. The rider held the beast steady, then ordered it to drop her. Meriol screamed as she slammed onto the stone slabs. She desperately tried to scramble to her feet, but before she could, rough Goblyn hands grabbed for her. In moments her arms and legs were tightly bound with thin leather straps.
One of the Goblyns forcibly threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the keep. The others followed, chittering among themselves. They started descending a spiralling staircase that clung precariously to the inside walls of the tower, no rail guarded the drop that yawned below them. The whole centre of the keep appeared to have been ripped out by some unstoppable force. Here and there wooden beams and the remains of collapsing stone arches and doorways showed where once great halls and rooms had stood.
The air around her filled with a great roaring sound and Meriol twisted her head to ascertain the cause. A great vortex of dark matter howled up from the bowels of the keep, spinning overhead, and up into the night sky. It whistled and whipped at the Goblyns, threatening to pluck them from the stairwell. But they pressed forward, surefooted, keeping well away from the jagged edge of the steps.
After what seemed like an eternity to the Princess, they reached a level that was still mostly intact. A large wooden door studded with iron creaked open and the Princess was deposited on the floor of a great stone chamber. Rows of flaming torches lined the walls, and she could see a circular stone well set in the centre of the room from which the vortex of magic emanated. She lay there, face pressed against the cold stone. She rolled and tried to regain her feet, but one of the Goblyns placed a cloven hoof in the middle of her back and forced her to the floor.
Several tall robed figures stood around the dark swirling cloud, chanting and inscribing mystical signs in the air.
Keeping the magic flowing, she thought. If only she had some means of disrupting them.
One of the figures turned away from the well and strode towards her.
A hand reached for her slight form. Gripping her cloak, it lifted her effortlessly into the air. Eyes as black as coal regarded her from beneath the shadowed cowl.
'Princess Meriol is it. I must say that this is a pleasant surprise,' Ceridin Ravengaard declared. 'You are supposed to be buried beneath a mountain of rock.' he pushed back the hood of his cloak. 'What of your companions, did they also manage to escape? It seems I shall have to have words with Maelgwn if he returns from the errand I sent him on.'
A cruel smile formed on his bearded, windburned face. 'I must congratulate the Elves on being a particularly tenacious race. I would have thought you all long gone by now. Still, it will give me immense pleasure to finally be the architect of your downfall.'
Meriol twisted uneasily in his grasp. 'Do your worst Warlock,' she screamed, bringing up her legs and kicking out at him.
Laughing he flung her to the ground. 'Do not worry Princess. I fully intend to.'
She screamed again, this time in pain. Ravengaard crouched by her side and turned her to face him.
'Tell me, what do you know of the Witch's plans? I sent Maelgwn to seek her out and put an end to her. But I have heard nothing since. Which means she may have found a way to defeat him.'
Good, thought Meriol, that means that the Goblyns that escaped from the fighting around Ceridwen's cottage had not made it back to Ravens Bane. So he knew nothing of the children's survival or the bringing together of the Arcs of Heaven. Even now at this late hour, there was still hope.
Danielle and the others huddled in darkness on the hillside above Ravens Bane. The only light came from the lightning that continued to flash violently from the blackness that swirled overhead. The wind and rain continued its ferocious assault on them, and they pressed themselves further into what little shelter the hill provided. A feeling of hopelessness surrounded her; she was unsure how to proceed. To end this madness, the Dark Tower must be sent back to the Evermurk, and very soon. But to do so would spell the end for Princess Meriol or at the very least condemn her to a life trapped in the same hell as the Warlock. She had forbidden George from going after Meriol, there was not enough time to find a way in, attempt a rescue, and get back out again. Delay any further and it would be too late to reverse the spells that had brought Ravengaard back.
Danielle looked out across the valley. A faint trace of grey began to seep between the darkness of the distant horizon and the forbidding maelstrom that churned overhead.
'Come on, we had better prepare for the ritual, time is running out.'
Down below a Goblyn war horn blasted out above the howling of the wind. Signalling yet another attack of the Elven Lines. Shouts and screams drifted up to them as the two armies clashed again. Danielle wondered who was winning, although from what she had seen, it seemed impossible for anyone to stand against the massive Goblyn army. Anyway, if the plan did not succeed, it would all be in vain.
She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter against the wind and rain, stepping towards the edge of the steep incline that stretched down to the valley floor. Just below, Castle Ravens Bane stood forbidding and storm-lashed in the flashes of lightning.
She was just going to call George and Jessica over when there was a familiar popping sound in the air behind her. She spun to see Captain Thrax, Altard, and four Elven Hunters standing there.
Jakth, Jerth and the Dwarf Troopers leapt to their feet, weapons at the ready they quickly moved to surround the newcomers.
Danielle held up a hand. 'It's okay, they're friends,' she shouted.
'We came as soon as we could,' said Malin Thrax. 'It was difficult to track you down.'
He studied the group, noting the mood. 'What is the matter are you not ready. Holt got word to us of the plans to...' he trailed off as he noticed Meriol was not with them.
'Where is the Princess?' he asked.
Danielle looked down at the Dark Tower. 'Ravengaard has her,' she informed him with a sob of despair. She blurted out what had happened, relating all that had happened since their return from Annwn Deep.
The Elven Captain thought for a moment, and although inside he felt a crushing sadness, he kept his voice calm. 'We must continue as planned,' he looked out across the valley. 'I think we have maybe, thirty of your minutes before it is too late. Valen, do you think you can transport us into the tower?'
The Spellcaster nodded.
Malin turned back to Danielle. 'We will try rescuing Meriol, but if we cannot and are not returned by then, you must be ready to carry out your part of the undertaking.'
'I understand,' Danielle nodded looking worriedly at the group.
'It will be dangerous transporting blindly,' the Spellcaster warned them. 'We were lucky last time. And only the Gods know what is happening within those walls. But I can see no other choice.'
'We can use that,' shouted George, pointing to the small ledge on the side of the keep, where the bat creature had dropped the Princess. 'There's a way in from there.'
'We!' exclaimed Danielle. 'You're not going.'
'Yes, I am. No arguments.' he added.
'Captain, please tell him he's not going.' Danielle pleaded with a shake of her head. But she could almost feel her resolve slipping away.
The Elven Captain held out his arms in uncertainty. 'I am afraid I cannot say. It is a matter for George and yourself to decide.'
'I can be of help,' he gave Malin Thrax a begging look. 'My power will come in useful. You have to let me come.'
Valen Altard answered quickly. 'George is correct. His magic could make the difference between us succeeding and failing.'
'And me,' Jessica put in. 'I'm coming too.'
Danielle felt her anger rising, pushing back the apathy that was clouding her mind. 'No. Not both of you. I forbid it.'
Valen Altard raised his arms. 'We have little time for arguments. I will take Malin, the boy and two Hunters. That leaves a space for the Princess on the way out, if we make it. Any more and we may not make it out again.'
Jessica looked downhearted. 'But I can help I have the strongest magic here... besides you.'
'Nevertheless, you will remain here with your sister. She may have need of you here, danger still lurks at every corner,' Altard observed. 'Ready the spell. And remember, if we have not returned by the allotted time, do not hold back...' he paused, then a faint smile crossed his Elven features. 'I realise it is a lot to ask of one so young, but we need to know we can count on you to carry out the task without delay when the time arrives.'
Danielle stared at him, hesitating a little. 'Yes of course....' she whispered. But she wondered, would she would be able to do it.
Malin called over two of his Hunters. Lach, young, but one of his best bowmen and Wrai, a seasoned warrior who he knew he could trust in battle, and explained the plan to rescue Meriol.
They joined Altard and George and stood ready to transport to the Keep. The Spellcaster gazed across at the little platform as if trying to determine the distance. 'Are you all ready?' he asked.
They nodded in agreement.
Seconds later they stood on a stone balcony high on the side of the dark keep. The wind and rain raged much stronger here than on the hillside. It lashed at them, threatening to sweep them over the edge of the low parapet. They hastily moved into the shelter of a crumbling doorway; alert for anything that may prove dangerous, but none came.
'It appears our enemies are not expecting an attack from above,' Thrax called over the howl of the wind. 'But do not let it fool you. Be watchful. Stay alert.'
Beyond the doorway, the vortex of dark magic continued to spin and howl as if it were alive. Lightning strobed the interior as it flashed along its length, seeking the opening at the top of the tower. Thrax risked a look down into the depths, leaning out as far as he dared on the ruined staircase.
'It looks clear,' he told them.
The Elf Captain led them downwards. The Elves moved nimbly, George followed, testing each step as he went. In places the staircase had all but been destroyed, leaving just a few crumbling blocks clinging precariously to the wall. Just metres away dark matter twisted and writhed, tugging at their clothing, repeatedly threatening to pluck them from their unsteady perch. They moved as fast as they dared, ever mindful of the time it was taking.
At long last, they reached the lower levels. Malin Thrax held a finger to his lips and ushered them back into the shadows beneath the stairwell. Voices drifted up to them from below. Thrax crept to the edge and peered over.
Directly below them, in the centre of the chamber was the well. The nexus that now joined this world to the Dark Abode. Several of Ravengaard's followers gathered around the opening, chanting and weaving the magic that kept the portal open and allowed the tainted matter to pour forth. To one side, stood the Warlock himself, the small figure of Princess Meriol lay bound and helpless on the floor before him. Even as the group watched, Ravengaard reached out with his magic and raised her up in front of him. He was shouting something at her, but the roar of the vortex snatched it away before Malin could hear what was being said. Ravengaard shook the Princess, then reached behind her and grasp one of her wings between his fingers. Malin heard the screams and saw her body arch in pain as the Warlock twisted it.
They could not wait any longer. Captain Thrax signalled to Lach and Wrai to remain where they were and provide cover for the rescue.
'Get us down there now,' he screamed at Altard.
The Elven Spellcaster was forming the blue orb around them even as Thrax called out his instructions.
Below, Meriol felt the crushing grip of Ravengaard's magic lift her into the air. She cursed silently to herself, if not for the bindings, she could have fought back somehow. Although in her heart she knew it would be useless against him. She gasped for breath, aware he was screaming at her, asking questions.
What did she know of the Elves plans? Were others involved yet?
Meriol gritted her teeth, determined not to tell what she knew, no matter what he did to her. Then he grinned evilly and reached behind her; she felt him grasp one of her wings and crush it between his fingers. She heard herself screaming as a fresh wave of unbearable agony lanced through her body. But even as she screwed her eyes shut against the pain, she glimpsed a blue flash in the ruins above them.
Valen Altard set them down behind Ravengaard. Even as the blue bubble dissipated behind him, Malin race forward, bow drawn in readiness. The Captain sent an arrow flying towards the Warlock. But some sixth sense appeared to alert him at the last moment. Ravengaard half turned, motioning with his hand as he did so. The arrow clattered harmlessly to the floor, knocked aside by the field of magic he had conjured. Meriol dropped to the floor, momentarily forgotten by this new intrusion. The Warlock spun to face his attackers, infuriated at their audacity. An arc of green fire flew from his fingertips, lancing towards the Elf Captain. He ducked beneath it. Rolling closer he released two more arrows in quick succession, trying to keep the Warlock off guard. Again they ricocheted off the magic he had surrounded himself with.
The other wizards turned from what they were doing, the clamour drawing their attention. Altard sent spheres of invisible force spinning towards the black-robed figures, catching them unaware. One Acolyte toppled backwards, hit by one of the spheres. His knees caught the lip of the well, and he slipped screaming into the whirlwind of dark matter. A red smear momentarily stained the spinning funnel as the power of the vortex tore him apart. Others fell back in disarray as Lach and Wrai fired their longbows from up above. The small but needle sharp shafts found their targets easily, creating panic among them as they sought cover.
Goblyns scrambled in from the hallway, drawn by the cries and howls of pain from within the room. Malin shouted a warning and a freezing blast of icy magic from George's sword met them, forcing them to momentarily retreat. It allowed George time to race forward and lift the Elven Princess from the floor.
'Kill them,' Ravengaard screamed in anger. 'It is only a few Elves making a last attempt to disrupt...' he paused noticing George.
His burning eyes sparkled with rage.
'Boy?' Ravengaard questioned. 'Maelgwn assured me you had perished along with the others. First the Elven Princess, now you. What else have I been told that is untrue?'
A cruel smile formed on his lips. 'No matter, I will do it myself. The prophecy speaks of three children who could possibly lead to my downfall. If I eliminate you then that effectively ends any chance of it coming to pass. I am determined the prophecy will not come true. Not now. Not when I am so close.'
Green fire spat from his fingers once more, flashing across the chamber towards George.
Even as George lifted the Princess, his eyes did not leave Ravengaard. He saw the flicker of the Warlock's magic lancing towards him.
'Down,' Meriol cried, shifting her weight in George's arms. He threw himself sideways, half tumbling into the shelter of one of the pillars that supported the shattered remains of the ceiling. The fire burst against the stonework in an explosion of smoke and green flame.
George set Meriol down and with a quick slice of his blade, freed her from her bonds.
'Thank you,' she whispered. 'This is the second time you have saved me.' she planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
'Are you okay?' he asked her, blushing slightly.
'Yes, I think so, just a little sore,' she flexed her wings, gasping in pain as she did so. 'I do not think I will be flying anywhere just yet.'
George risked a cursory glance around the edge of the pillar and saw Malin and Valen Altard occupied with the Goblyns and Acolytes. They had recovered from their initial surprise and were trying to counter-attack. From above Lach and Wrai continued to lose arrows trying to discourage any such thing. In its midst, Ravengaard ignored all else and continued to stride across the floor towards his hiding place.
With a dark curse issuing from his lips, Ravengaard sent a bolt of Warlock fire up into the Elven archer's place of concealment. It smashed into the already weakened stairwell collapsing it beneath them. Lach managed to jump clear, but falling masonry caught Wrai and plunged him onto the stone slabs below. Thrax swiftly leapt swiftly towards the fallen Elf, firing at a Goblyn who stepped between them, as he did so. The arrow struck the attacker in the throat and with a gurgle, it dropped to the floor. Thrax shouldered his bow and unsheathed his short sword, engaging another Goblyn that charged forward. He parried its awkward lunge and dispatched it with a swift thrust through the chest. The Elven Captain reached Wrai but instantly knew there was nothing he could do for his comrade. The Elven Hunter lay among the fallen stonework his body crushed and broken.
Angrily he swung around looking for the Warlock.
How many more Elves would forfeit their lives because of Ravengaard?
Something slammed into him. He rolled with the force of the attack. His sword was knocked from his hand and went skidding across the floor. Blindly kicking out at whatever had struck him, he managed to push it away. Twisting away from his attacker Malin caught a glimpse of a toad-like creature, mottled green-brown scales glinted in the dull light. He spun, frantically trying to regain his footing and seek out his fallen sword. It was too far away; the beast would be on him before he could reach it. The Captain turned to face the toad-thing. Its purple tongue flicked out, sampling the air between them. Sinewy rear legs bunched beneath its body as it prepared to leap and grind him between rows of jagged teeth.
Malin drew in a steadying breath. Was he fast enough to draw his bow and fire before the creature was upon him?
George stepped from the shelter of the pillar, sending white fire from the tip of his sword at the advancing Sorcerer. Ravengaard roared with laughter and countered with his own magic. Green fire flicked from his fingertips licking around the sword's weaker magic and thrust it aside. Overwhelmed, George fell backwards trying to seek cover again. But before Ravengaard could take advantage, there was a deep groaning from the direction of the well and the spinning maelstrom of magic seemed to lose cohesion. It slowed, its movement became erratic, the howl of the wind died away and for a moment an ominous silence fell over the chamber. Then the entire structure trembled and swayed precariously.
Ravengaard stopped, momentarily confused. 'A curse on these intruders,' he screamed, raking the chamber with another burst of Warlock fire. 'We have become distracted,' he shouted to the remaining acolytes. 'We must regain control of the magic it is not yet strong enough to survive in this world.'
From nearby George heard Altard call out urgently. 'Quickly, we must go. Time is nearly up,'
George and Meriol took advantage of the interruption to rush toward the Spellcaster. George dodged a blow from a Goblyn wielding an axe, and a well-placed arrow from Lach's bow felled it before it could strike again. More Goblyns entered the chamber; they moved to encircle them and cut off their retreat. With no time to waste, George and the Princess leapt into their midst. Once again the white fire lanced from Frostblade scattering the attackers. But George could feel the magic growing weaker, he feared he would not be able to wield it much longer. They needed leave now. Diving through a gap that opened in the circle of Goblyn's, George threw shards of white fire in all directions. For a brief moment, it looked like they were going to make good their escape. But a movement in the shadows between them and the waiting Altard forced them to a halt. A figure appeared, seeming to materialize out of thin air. It stepped out into the open, the air around it crackling with uncontrolled energy.
Caranaxus, the Dark Witch moved between them and their only means of escape.