by RG Long
"I believe it would be okay to remove your jacket now. You may be surprised at what you see."
Reluctantly, Ealrin removed his jacket that was now stained with Blume's blood. And indeed, he let out a gasp when he saw her shoulder. Her dress was stained a deep maroon, and though it had a hole in it where the dagger had split the cloth, there was no evidence of any injury to her whatsoever. Her skin was soft and smooth and whole. There was not the faintest scar to show where the knife had plunged so deeply into her.
"How is this possible?" Ealrin asked, looking up at Holve.
Holve smiled down at Ealrin, and then looked back to Blume. She was breathing quite regularly and appeared to be asleep.
"We are in the presence of a Speaker."
***
BLUME SLEPT FOR THE rest of the day, and on into the night. Holve and Ealrin had moved themselves into the protection of a small cave that was far enough from the path to avoid anyone's gaze. The bodies of the fallen Raiders were hidden on the opposite side of the road underneath many tree limbs and leaves. Hopefully their stench would not attract any unwelcome looters to their camp. Not that they had anything on them worth stealing. Holve and Ealrin had relieved them of anything of value. They kept anything they could use for their journey to the next city in Thoran, the mountain town of Loran.
The small fire they had made inside the cave kept away the chill of the night and were just large enough to cook the rabbit that Holve had shot. The bow and arrow had come from a dead Merc. It now served them meat. Holve had figured that the smoke would be hidden by the failing light and the cloudy sky outside their cave.
Ealrin was trying to comprehend what had happened. Blume still slept peacefully, covered in several jackets to keep her warm as she lay next to the fire on the cold stone floor. He was certain he was going to watch her die, and then witnessed her life be spared by the light from the jewel that still hung around her neck. Holve had not spoken much of what he meant by calling her a speaker. Only that they should protect her while she recovered as whatever she had done apparently drained her of all of her energy. Holve had made very clear that she would probably be ravenous when she woke up.
It did seem like the smell of the fire roasted rabbit was what roused Blume from her sleep. She sat up slowly and licked her lips, apparently also quite thirsty. Ealrin got her a container of water that they had pilfered from one of the Merc's and let her drink as much as she could, which turned out to be the entire thing.
"I hope we have more of that," she said as she let out a satisfied sigh.
Ealrin laughed in reply. "I believe we happen to be close to a certain river where we can get more. Are you hungry?"
"I'm famished," she replied. "Is that rabbit?"
Without much more comment, she began to greedily eat every piece Ealrin handed her. Holve was right. She had developed a bottomless pit of hunger. And just as Ealrin was thinking about him, he appeared at the entrance to the cave with another rabbit and two other containers now filled with water.
"I see our speaker is awake now," he said as he came and sat next to the fire, preparing the rabbit to be cooked as he did. "And when were you planning on telling us that not only were you skilled in the magical art of healing, but also that you had a near flawless piece of rimstone?"
Rimstone? The name triggered something in Ealrin, like a memory he could almost recall.
"What's rimstone?" Ealrin asked. Already he could see the blush on Blume's face as she continued to eat her rabbit.
Holve put the rabbit on the spit he had made from a stick he carved sharp with a stolen knife. He began to spin it over the fire, roasting the meat that would be Blume's second helping. She was almost finished with the first rabbit. Ealrin had taken perhaps two bites; the rest was in her belly.
"Rimstone is found throughout the world. It's a rare stone of differing color and shape. It allows those who have the gift of speaking to influence and change the elements around them. Those who are able to convince rimstone to change the elements around them are called Speakers."
"Speak to the elements?" Ealrin asked. None of this sounded familiar.
"Say a Speaker here with us was able to speak to fire. He could easily take the fire and make it bigger, smaller, or give it a shape. But they wouldn't be able to do this through their own willpower or skill. They would need a rimstone that had the ability to influence the element of fire. Several different rimstones exist, some that are able to influence the known elements. Others have properties that are still being studied in the College of Magic of Irradan."
Holve paused to check on the meat of the rabbit on the spit. It wasn't done yet, for he returned it over the fire to continue to cook it.
"Then again, we have other Speakers who are able to influence rimstone to mend wounds and cause bleeding to cease. It would seem that our friend here is able to heal wounds by speaking through the rimstone. What I'm lost for though, and wondering if she'll explain to us is how did she come to possess such a gift as a rimstone necklace and, how in the world was she able to heal herself?"
Blume looked up from her rabbit at Holve, with a blush on her face, but Ealrin was more lost than before Holve began talking.
"Why is it such a feat to heal yourself?" Ealrin asked, looking at Blume who was now fiddling with her necklace.
"You see, one of the most advanced forms of speaking involves convincing the elements to influence the speaker. For most, causing a fire is easy due to it being outside of you. For a typical healer, convincing the elements to heal others is a much simpler, though still difficult, task than healing yourself. It isn't heard of except in the most skilled and powerful of speakers."
Holve directed his gaze again towards Blume as he handed her the rabbit.
"How about we start with the easier of my two questions, hmm? How did you come to possess a rimstone of healing?"
Blume accepted the rabbit and gingerly began cutting small pieces of meat from it, as it was still quite hot. She began speaking in a quiet but matter of fact tone.
"As far as I can remember we have owned the stone. It's been in our family for generations. It was my dad who fashioned it into this necklace."
She said this as she twirled the necklace in her fingers gingerly, as if admiring the handiwork of her father all over again.
"There aren't many known deposits of rimstone in The Southern Republic," Holve said out loud. It was perhaps just a statement. Or was there something more in his voice, Ealrin wondered.
Blume returned his look.
"I swear our family has always owned the jewel. We're not thieves or crooks," she said as she put the necklace down and went back to her rabbit, still apparently hungry from her previous magical feat.
Holve relented.
"Okay, Blume. So how did you learn how to heal with the stone?" he asked her.
Blume took a moment to answer because she was chewing a particularly tough piece of meat.
"My father really was a jeweler in the city, but that's not all he could do. He could make the necklace do things also. He had a way of making the precious metals and stones bend into shapes that other artisans just couldn't imitate. He was amazing. My brother could never get the hang of... what did you call it Holve? Speaking? He could never speak to the stone like dad could. I tried to make the metal do what I asked, but it just wouldn't cooperate. Then, one day, dad gotten hurt pretty bad working in his shop. He hurt his hand and it looked like he wouldn't be able to make jewels like he used to. I don't know, but it just came to me that I could heal his hand. I saw bones mending and skin returning to its natural smoothness in my mind. So, using the necklace, I was able to mend his bones and repair the damage. It was more from desperation than anything else."
She paused from her story and looked back up at Holve and Ealrin.
"Whenever someone in our family was injured I could heal them, unless it happened in front of a lot of people. Dad never wanted a lot of attention drawn to us. Once my brother broke his arm in the field,
but others were with us when it happened. I wanted so badly to fix it for him, but dad forbid it. He hurt so badly that I healed him when they weren't paying attention and he pretended to have a broken arm for the next few months so that no one would know."
Holve was staring intently into the fire as he listened to Blume's story. Ealrin was speechless. She truly was talented beyond his comprehension. Blushing again, Blume busied herself with getting another bite of rabbit and drinking from the water container.
Then, after a long pause, Holve broke the silence.
"You speak of a natural ability, Blume. There are Speakers who study rimstone for decades to achieve what you say you learned from just willing yourself to."
Holve studied her for a long time before speaking again.
"Has your family always lived in Weyfield? Or did you move there from somewhere else?" he asked her with a look on his face Ealrin couldn't place. Was it suspicion?
"Our grandfather moved to Weyfield when his father came with their family. I don't know where they moved from though. Dad never actually told me the exact place. I always assumed it was somewhere else in the Southern Republic."
Holve made a sound that was something like a grunt or a sigh, and then added a log to the dwindling fire. He looked at the pair of them and just simply said, "Loran is the first town we'll encounter in Thoran. I pray that once we reach that small city we will be able to borrow horses to let us reach the king quickly. If Androlion is planning a coup in the Southern Republic, then King Thoran must be warned immediately. It may be too late for the Grand Elder. Perhaps even for the elder council, but that doesn't mean we can't try to prevent the bloodbath that would ensue should a civil war rise up from these seeds of rebellion. We'll need to travel at first light. Hopefully we can reach Loran in two days walking."
There wasn't much conversation after that. Ealrin volunteered to take the first watch of the night to let Holve and Blume sleep. After hunting all afternoon, Holve was obviously drained. Blume was still recovering from her magical healing and needed rest as well.
Ealrin was happy to guard them as they slept.
There was much more to his adopted daughter than he knew, and more if he was to believe that Holve was suspicious of her. Perhaps she was hiding something from them and didn't completely trust them, even now.
One thing was for sure, though. Ealrin was in the presence of a gifted general, and now a speaker of great magical power.
As Ealrin began to count the stars he could see through the treetops and listen for any signs of movement down on the road below, he felt that he could not ask for better traveling companions.
25: Androlion Fellgate
Androlion Fellgate sat on the armchair that had served as his throne for the past month. Here in Breyland, he was a king. In the inn that was made of wood and nails, he reigned. Men did his bidding without question. Whole cities were raised at his command. He was the ruler of this settlement, without question. He longed for the finer things than a musty armchair and creaking floorboards.
Soon, his reign would extend far beyond the simple city.
Who else had been able to unite the warring Mercs under a single banner after they had been so utterly defeated? Who else had given them purpose other than looting and raiding at random? Who had been able to show them a vision of a great future?
It had been he, Androlion Fellgate, a former elder of the Southern Republic and soon to be ruler of all men.
He was fit to be a king.
Fit to rule those who were lesser than he.
For he alone had been granted the privilege of foresight. He alone had seen what the future held for the continent of Ruyn and indeed, the rest of Gilia if they did not follow him.
After he had been ousted from his position as elder those many years ago, he had been dejected and broken. His own followers turned him away. Those who claimed to be loyal knew that they could no longer find favor with any in power by befriending him.
With no one to help, he had wandered into the mountains, seeking to perish and be forgotten.
He was a miserable thing.
Yet it was as he stumbled in the darkness, tripping over bramble, brush, rock, and dirt, that he fell. Into the deep pit, he fell. It felt like he had fallen into the very bowels of the planet itself, never to reach to the other side, but rather to fall for an eternity.
There, he heard the voice.
A voice powerful and terrible, wonderful and awful at the same time. Androlion had first feared the voice that sounded like thunder and stone, but soon the voice began to tell him of his reign over men.
And he was no longer afraid, but consumed.
Pictures flashed before his mind. Images of himself as a king seated on a throne and exalted.
Men bowed down to him, worshiped him as a god.
But it was only a possibility. One of many futures.
And it would not be unless the other races were subjugated and destroyed.
For a greater threat was coming.
A threat that stood to destroy them all.
The images he saw were terrible. Flame. Ruin. Destruction. He sat not on a throne, but on a pile of the bodies of those who had once worshiped him, now consumed by the demons of his mind.
Two futures, two possibilities. Either Androlion could reign or be ruined along with all other living things.
To cause his future to happen, it was up to him. The vision showed him how he could rule. Where stores of rimstone could be gathered, harvested, and used to fight back the demons.
And he was shown the key to it all: the Rimstone of Demon Song.
He would control the precious stone and rule upon his throne.
At whatever cost.
When he had awoken from his dream on the mountain, he had been found by the remnants of the Mercs. They bandaged him. They listened to his ramblings in his fever and sickness. And when he had recovered, they followed him.
As it turns out, men are easily swayed to fear the future, to fear that which is unknown. Now that Fellgate knew of the coming darkness he could persuade others to follow him, to rid the continent of the blight of the elves and dwarves who hoarded the stone for themselves.
Unless men used it to stop the tide of what was coming, all would be consumed.
Androlion had learned that he could inspire others to believe that their misfortune was due to others. To begin to hate those who had caused them such hardships. To act upon those feelings of hate.
His thoughts were interrupted by Vyncent, one of his generals whom he had sent to capture the eavesdroppers, the spies.
Androlion leaned upon his arm and looked into the eyes of his general and knew.
He knew he had failed.
“My Lord, we were unable to bring back the...”
Androlion had made eye contact with him, the other general who stood at the door of his chamber. With a simple wave of his hand, a life was ended.
A worthless life of one who was unable to carry out orders.
Two Mercs came in and dragged away the former general.
“My Lord, shall I go and do what he was unable to?”
Androlion looked to Rayg.
Rayg was a man whom he could trust to do whatever he had asked of him, and yet Androlion feared the man’s ambition. Oh well. His time would come, as all others who dared defy him.
“Go, Rayg. See that they are destroyed and that no word of our plans reaches the north. We need for our timing to be perfect. Take whatever men you need. I will see to the speakers in your absence.”
Rayg bowed and left the room.
Though he had successfully acquired as much rimstone as the southern peninsula could offer, there was still more to be found. In the north, on the islands to the west, and the farthest reaches of the continent. More must be added.
In Rayg’s absence, Androlion would see to those who were being trained to use the magic stones in battle. Rayg’s knowledge of the stones was a boon in this coup, but also a threat to Androlion
, who was unable to speak through the stones.
In his time, Rayg would fall.
As would all of those closest to Androlion who knew too much. Secrets were safer with those whose lips could no longer speak.
Androlion rose from his chair and went to the window.
As Rayg left, another came on a horse. The assassin.
From here Androlion could see the smirk upon his lips.
Good, he thought. Not all who do my bidding fail me.
With those who opposed his way of thinking removed from power, it would be easy to march upon Conny and preach to those who were inclined to hear that others were responsible for their suffering. The Mercs readied themselves to move into the city and take what rightfully belonged to man, and no other. For months the prophets of Androlion had been sent to preach hate in the chapels of the city. They preached that a better future was upon men.
They preached that an uncertain future awaited them unless they followed him.
Androlion Fellgate, the savior of men.
26: Purpose
In the morning, after Holve had woken both Ealrin and Blume, the three set out on the road again. They had not heard any signs of travelers during the night, or in the early hours of the morning, and didn't fear running into any now. The Mercs were content to let the three go, for now at least.
The day of walking was not a bad one. The spring air was cool and crisp, but warmed gently by the twin suns. There was not much talk as all three of them apparently had thoughts to settle.
Ealrin certainly was.
If Blume really was so talented at such a young age, with little to no training whatsoever, what could she potentially accomplish given the proper education? Could she become a speaker the likes of which had not been seen before? Could she turn the tide of a battle that she may take part in later by healing the wounds of those who had fallen? Ealrin kept pondering and pondering until, at last, he could not hold his thoughts in his head any longer.