Tales of the Talisman, Volume 8, Issue 3

Tales of the Talisman

Volume 8, Issue 3

Edited by David Lee Summers

Tales of the Talisman Volume 8, Issue 3

Published by Hadrosaur Productions

Smashwords Edition

© 2012 Hadrosaur Productions

All rights reserved. No unauthorized use of any of this material without express permission granted by the individual authors and artists.

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***

The Dark Side of Fantasy

Introduction by David Lee Summers

Thanks to a lot of animation for kids, the word fantasy often conjures up images of magic castles and fairy princesses, idyllic villages and benevolent wizards. However, there is a dark side to fantasy as well. Modern fantasy traces its roots back the folk legends and fairy tales of days gone by. Frequently those were cautionary tales, warning people to avoid dangerous places. The fae were often portrayed as frightening tricksters. Magic can be used for evil and idyllic villages can be overrun by power-hungry tyrants. Harry Potter faced Voldemort. Frodo Baggins confronted the forces of Mordor.

Sometimes dark fantasy is used as a euphemism for supernatural horror. The problem with the euphemism is that it’s hard to know where to draw the line between dark fantasy and ordinary fantasy. Fantasy often concerns itself with good people battling dark forces. Sometimes those dark forces are even supernatural creatures such as werewolves, vampires, and witches. As an editor and a reader, I’m always delighted when writers push the boundaries of my expectations.

In this issue of Tales of The Talisman you’ll encounter a dark wizard who harnesses forbidden magic. You’ll meet a wicked enchantress who is so vain she blinds her lady in waiting for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some stories have clear morals and some just look at the dangers of tampering with unknown forces. One might be surprised to see modern soldiers of fortune in a fantasy story, but are they really any different than the knights and mercenaries of classic fairy tales?

I hope you enjoy this look at the dark side of fantasy and find some of your expectations challenged.

-End-

***

The Black Elm

Story by Timothy Bastek and Taylor Packer

Illustration by Neil T. Foster

I

Ocasa watched in bewilderment as his master grabbed the stranger's collar, lifted him from the mud and shook him like a branch in the wind. He knew his master, Varefar, was prone to episodes of silent brooding and moody outbursts, but this was unlike anything he had witnessed before.

What did you say? Varefar demanded.

The man's lips quivered.

Varefar shook him harder. What did you just say? Answer me!

I—I said the Land Father took my betrothed.

"Not that! The name! What is the Land Father's name?"

Azkalar! His name is Azkalar!

Where is he?

The forest!

Varefar let the stranger fall back in the mud. He tugged at his long, pointed beard, his brow furrowed.

Ocasa turned when he heard heavy footfalls approach. A guard trudged over from the town gate.

Master, we should go, Ocasa said. We need to get out of this rain. He knew Varefar could care less about the storm. It seemed as if water refused to touch him. Whether they traveled through streams, rain, even snow, he remained dry. Whenever Ocasa asked why this was so. Varefar would lapse into silence.

The guard drew to a halt in front of the three men. Is this wretch bothering you? he asked and drove a kick into the stranger's side.

The stranger crawled through the mud and grabbed the hem of Varefar's purple robes. Please. You must help me. Ocasa wondered what could cause a man to become so desperate.

A'right, Fierghus, the guard said. You've caused enough trouble. He lifted the stranger, Fierghus, from the mud and began to walk past Varefar and Ocasa. Varefar grabbed the guard's shoulder and pulled back with a shout. The guard lost his footing and fell in the mud. He sprang to his feet a moment later and went for his sword.

Ocasa stepped forward and laid a hand on the guard's arm. Wait! he said. I don't know what has gotten into my master. Please forgive him for his behavior.

A direct assault against an officer of the law is a violation against the peace.

Please, we don't mean any harm. All we want is to find lodgings for the night.

And we're taking this man with us, Varefar said and motioned toward Fierghus.

He's a disturbance to the community, the guard said. You're not taking him anywhere.

You don't understand. I wasn't making a request. This man is coming with us. You can either let us take him or we'll pry him from your petrified hands.

We are new to the area, Ocasa said before the guard could reply. We could use a guide. Ocasa handed him a few coins.

The guard looked at Fierghus. After a moment, he took the coins and shoved him over to Varefar and Ocasa and warned they would be watched.

They were in the town of Cesonûr, a merchant settlement surrounded by a wall made from the trunks of trees from the nearby forest. Ocasa had heard of the town, but he had never set foot inside its borders before. He looked forward to seeing the trade market in action, yet, as he and Varefar strode through the streets, he saw no signs of trade or any other business. He knew it was not due to the rain. Varefar had been here before and he explained there was always some activity in the markets, no matter the weather. But now, it was as if the whole town was dead.

Then there was the fountain. It was made from Corannene marble and expanded across the entire town. Wooden bridges were placed over the shallow pools and led to the houses and other buildings. Each pool had statues in the likeness of forest animals. There was a family of bears in one, a pack of wolves in another, then an elk, and finally a hawk. A statue of a massive tree stood in the very center of the town and stretched high above the buildings. Ocasa had heard about the fountain, heard how its clear water sprayed from the branches and shot over the buildings, yet, instead of the magnificent shower Varefar and others told him of, the water was dark and spat out in sporadic bursts, as if the fountain was coughing. It oozed down the sides of the tree and covered the white marble in a sickly coat of black.

When Ocasa asked Varefar what could have caused this, his only response was, I don't know, but if this man is telling the truth, then I fear the worst for this town. Then, almost to himself, Azkalar, what have you done?

II

What happened back there? Ocasa asked. Who is this Azkalar? They sat at a table in a corner of The Wolf and Owl tavern with several pints of mead between them. They all belonged to Varefar. He said Ocasa didn't have need of such drink, that it muddled down his progress in the druidic arts.

Azkalar was my master long before you became my student, Varefar said.

Ocasa found it hard to believe Varefar himself had a master once, let alone what Varefar's master did to invoke such a violent reaction. Did you have a falling out? He took his ponytail and squeezed as much rainwater from it as possible.

You mind your business! Varefar sunk into silence and drank his mead.

So … what? Ocasa asked after a few seconds. After you split ways, your old master became Land Father of Frenbark Forest?

…Yes.

I thought that was impossible.

Very rare, and downright stupid, but impossible? No, never impossible. Varefar leaned across the table and pointed a finger in Ocasa's face. "Don't you ever let me catch you doing something as idiotic as becoming a Land Father."

Land Father, or Land Mother, is a term used to describe a druid who binds him or herself to a piece of the land, whether it's something as small as a stream or something as expansive as a forest. This allows them to access great amounts of power, however, it is not favored, for once a druid is bound to the land, they must stay on the land and nurture it. If they leave, their power diminishes the further they travel, and if the land dies, the druid dies along with it. This is the first lesson every aspiring druid is taught, for once the Binding Ritual is complete, it cannot be undone.

Fierghus returned with three plates of food. He placed them on the table and took the seat next to Ocasa.

Varefar rested his elbows on the table and leaned across to look Fierghus straight in the eyes. Tell us, he said, what did Azkalar do to Cesonûr?

III

I was a part of a trading caravan from Bryeston (Fierghus began). We sold fine silks and fabrics to anyone wealthy enough to buy our ware. During our last visit to Cesonûr, a young seamstress named Eysis stopped by to pick up an order for her family's shop. She was fair-skinned with long, black hair and emerald eyes. A rare beauty for such a small town. Ever since, she would come down to our stand. Sometimes she would pick up an order of cloth, but usually she only came to talk to me. She mostly talked about her family's expectations for her to work in her parents' shop when she wanted to help her brothers in the lumber mills.

We began to meet away from my caravan, by a hill just outside the town, near the border of Frenbark Forest. It was here we shared the tales from the day and expressed our love. After three months, we became engaged.

Yet our wedding day never came. My caravan received an order of silks to deliver to the mayor of Noradia. I wanted to stay behind, but my companions said they needed me. I tried to bring Eysis with me, but her parents refused. They said they didn't want their only daughter traveling the world, that the journey was too dangerous. I had no choice but to leave her behind. Once the delivery was made, my caravan decided to set up shop in Noradia. Business was thriving. An exact opposite of Cesonûr. But I refused to stay. I needed to return to Eysis.

However, during my leave, Azkalar moved into the forest and became its Land Father. The people were afraid they would never be allowed to enter the forest again, that they would no longer be able to use the trees for their homes or hunt the wild game to feed their families. After much deliberation, the townsfolk came to an agreement. They would give Azkalar a gift in exchange to hunt in the forest and use its resources. Their gift was my Eysis. They gave her to Azkalar to be his wife.

When I returned and heard about Azkalar and his new bride, I feared Eysis had betrayed me. I wandered the streets in grief, not caring where I went.

I don't know how long I walked before I looked up and saw the hill where we would always meet. I climbed to the very top and fell asleep to the wind in the trees. She came in the dead of night and explained everything.

We started meeting in secret, after the markets closed. She would sneak away from Azkalar and we would wander the backstreets of town. We never returned to the hill, for she said it was no longer safe since it was so close to Azkalar's forest.

One night, as we walked through the empty markets, Eysis stopped and took my hand. We need to leave, she said. I fear Azkalar knows where I'm going every time I leave the forest. I fear he knows about you. About us.

Wouldn't he give chase once you're gone? I asked.

He can't leave the forest, remember?

Where would we go?

"Anywhere that's far away from him."

A small flock of ravens took flight from a nearby house and caused Eysis to jump.

All right, I said. "Just let me gather my things from the tavern and we can go.

No, Eysis said. She fixed her eyes on the retreating ravens. We need to leave now.

Okay, I said and laughed a little at her paranoia. At least let me get my sword. I don't want to set off on a long journey without means of protecting you.

She reluctantly agreed.

We never reached the tavern. I heard a mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood. Guards cried out and the few late-night wanderers screamed and ran through the streets. We looked toward the eastern gate. A large brown bear charged across the bridges toward us, its muzzle contorted into a snarl, its cold, grey eyes piercing our very souls. The beast stopped in front of us. It swiped at me with its claws and sent me through the air. I crashed into the marble tree and crumpled into the pool at its base. I raised myself on one elbow and saw the bear wrap its paw around Eysis and lift her so she was eye-level with the monster. It growled at her and moved its lips. I realized it was speaking to her. Its words were low and guttural, but I heard them clearly: You belong to the master and the master alone. It turned its back against me and loped off the way it had come.

I struggled to my feet and gave chase. I would not let Azkalar take Eysis away from me. But when I reached the forest's border, I stopped. A pack of wolves sat and waited at the tree line and a flock of ravens glared down from the branches. The wolves barked and growled and the ravens screeched in rage. When I approached the forest, the wolves sprang forth and chased me back to Cesonûr. They would not leave until I showed them my back and re-entered the town.

When the fountain's water turned black, I knew Azkalar decided to punish the entire town. I approached every man and woman I could and asked for his or her aid in rescuing Eysis. But they all refused. Even Eysis's parents. Why would we help the man who corrupted our daughter and condemned us all to death? they said. They all believe I am to blame for their troubles, when in truth, the fault is their own.

IV

Varefar finished the rest of his drink and stood up.

Where are you going? Ocasa asked.

I need time to think. Alone.

Rain continued to beat the land like fists on Corannene war drums as Varefar wandered Cesonûr's fountain bridges. He lifted his face toward the sky, but he felt nothing. The rain and wind avoided him. Even the few people he passed through the desolate markets kept their distance. Despite his efforts to look like he belonged, they knew something was wrong with him. They may not know what it was exactly, but they knew Varefar was tainted. That was why the guard let him off so easily for assaulting him. It wasn't because of his violent outburst, or Ocasa's quick tongue. It was the energy he let off everywhere he went, like a stench that defiled the very air around him.

All this because of Azkalar. Everywhere his old master went it seemed as if he caused the land to suffer. He defiled Varefar's very existence and now he tampered with the lives of two young lovers and the people of Cesonûr. What other curses had Azkalar set into motion? How many more would he invoke? He had to be stopped.

V

Ocasa woke the next morning when his cloak hit him in the face. He sat up in bed to see Varefar walk over to Fierghus and kick him awake.

Get up, both of you.

What's going on? Ocasa asked. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

We're going into the forest.

You're helping me, then? Fierghus asked.

No, I'm up and dressed this early for my health. Now move.

They gathered their belongings and went downstairs to eat a quick breakfast in the tavern's common room, then bought provisions in what markets were open and left Cesonûr by the east gate. The storm from the previous night still hadn't let up and Fierghus and Ocasa donned their cloaks to remain dry.

They walked in single-file with Fierghus in the lead. He took them along the canal, which led straight to the forest. It connected Cesonûr to the river that flowed through Frenbark. The townsfolk built the canal in order to power their lumber mills