The Fractured Heartstone

by Ian Thornburrow-Dobson

  At Ydari’s side Lothram and Idrahil worked with professional efficiency. He watched Idrahil dispatch two of their enemies, her sword swishing through the air and cleaving a portion out of a man’s abdomen with an accompanying spray of blood and howl of despair that quickly died away. Teobrin was now completely swept up in the melee as he darted about, making quick lunging strikes with his small blade. Teobrin’s dagger cut swiftly into the robed men that fell upon them, the blade sinking into thighs and elbows and he exalted triumphantly with each successful blow. Another man stepped forward and elbowed the young man in the face and he clattered to the ground. Ydari seized Teobrin’s shoulders and dragged him backwards roughly towards the strange blue gem. Now cut off, Idrahil and Lothram cut a desperate retreat as they fought to re-join their companions. Retreat was no longer possible and they now found themselves surrounded on all sides.

  Suddenly the strange disembodied whisper became a tumult and Ydari watched the faces of their attackers turn into expressions of pure bewilderment, row upon row of them now illuminated in a blinding blue glow. To his confusion Ydari saw one of his enemies in the front baulk in horror, backpedalling maniacally and bumping into his brethren as they too began to reel in fright. Lothram glanced about and shrugged his shoulders animatedly at what he was seeing. Ydari however suddenly dropped to his knees as pain erupted through his head and sent him careering to the ground clutching his cranium futilely. His body convulsed uncontrollably, Lothram and Idrahil staring open-mouthed as their Captain writhed and thrashed.

  Behind Ydari the blue gem shone brilliantly as if Azreus’ own eye sat before them and pierced through the darkness. Inside his mind it felt as if an epic struggle was happening, the walls of sanity crumbling away before an encroaching nightmare. The mysterious force tore through his frame and fought for control. The Captain floated up into the air, wreathed in the same glow. The Watch Captain hovered for a moment and then darkness suddenly surrounded the group again as Ydari slumped to the ground in a mashed heap of humanity. The voice that had plagued him was now a whisper again but it felt like it was coming from deep inside his brain and refused to relent. He stood up slowly, his movements slow and awkward. Ydari opened his eyes and they had turned into brilliant blue orbs, his body pulsating with power. The watchman began muttering in a low guttural growl. The words were unfamiliar to his colleagues and to their ear his words sounded impossibly ancient. His gnarled intonations froze the hooded forms in place as they remained transfixed, his garbled mutterings washing over them.

  Ydari raised an arm and the air crackled around his outstretched limb, all the while his fevered voice increasing in pitch until the very walls of the cavern were resonating with his words. He gesticulated wildly and one of their unknown foes suddenly flew backwards as if struck by a tremendous unseen force. Ydari threw his arms about in all directions, hooded figures hurtling through the air. Lothram ducked to one side as bodies went whizzing by, grabbing hold of Idrahil in the process as they fought to find whatever cover they could to protect themselves from their Captain’s unexplained onslaught.

  Teobrin huddled by the pedestal where the blue gem had been and he did a quick double-take as

  he observed that the gem was no longer there. Bodies continued to career past like a rocket, the sickening crunch of flesh and bone buckling under the sheer impact of being smashed against solid rock. Their twisted and broken forms thrashed and jerked as Ydari’s ominous chanting slowly subsided. It was replaced by the answering groans of those who had been injured in the fight; their agonised moans were pitiful and Ydari came to his senses as he looked about at the horror he had wrought. The terrifying presence in his brain reared once more and Ydari’s entire body was consumed in light. His blood-curdled screams caused everyone within ear-shot to wince horrifically as he collapsed to the floor once more and darkness took him.

  ***

  Zyffhal squealed as the skin from his face flaked away until there was nothing but sinew and muscle. He raised a limb to see the same thing happening, his gnarled bones jutting awkwardly through dense layers of muscle fibre and tissue as these too began to wither and crumble to nothingness. Above him Trelech cackled menacingly, his demonic eyes burning into his very soul. He tried to scream but only a faint rush of air passed his decaying lips. It came as a gentle sigh and the cultist breathed his last. His aged body crumbled into a pile of dust and dropped to the floor, leaving no hint that moments before it had been a living, breathing person. Trelech glowered scornfully at the pitiful pile of remains and laughed derisively, spitting a generous glob of saliva onto them disrespectfully. He whooped in triumph and felt the power coursing through him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears like war drums and, to the psychotic Prince, it was as if they heralded an oncoming storm in which he would bathe in the blood of his enemies. He raised his head and roared in exaltation.

  The door behind the Prince thundered open and an audible gasp caught his attention. He turned and his eyes fell upon the newcomer who instantly recoiled at the sight of him hovering over his former master’s ashes. An ashen haired young man looked at Trelech and he was struck with a wave of uncertainty. He began to tremble at Trelech’s demonic appearance and he hesitated a moment. Before panic completely consumed his trembling body, the boy threw himself at Trelech; prostrating himself before the exiled Prince. Trelech’s features took on an expression of smug satisfaction as he beheld the cultist grovelling pathetically at his feet and this, coupled with the sight of the ghastly remains of Zyffhal, sent waves of ecstasy through his body as the power of the gem surged within him. A scalding sensation crept across his chest and the Prince wrestled with his tunic for a moment as he exposed his bare skin for a closer examination.

  The red gem was lodged firmly in the centre of his torso. Crimson tendrils twisted out from it and ran across the surface of his skin in every direction, the sight of it causing Trelech to laugh maniacally. The cultist braved a quick glance and he too saw the web that was seething into Trelech’s flesh. He wisely dropped his head quickly and continued to grovel. A few moments later Trelech readjusted his clothes and lightly touched the man on the shoulder. He flinched at the sensation and desperately pressed his forehead to the ground, Trelech laughing monstrously as he repeated the gesture.

  “You may rise,” Trelech ordered. “Take a message to the new Master of this sect. His predecessor lies smouldering in your Chapel and I require an audience with the one who is to inherit his position.”

  “At once Lord,” the cultist stammered before bounding out of the room, silently breathing a sigh of relief.

  Trelech watched the man disappear from view and then turned his attention to his surroundings. He was feeling new sensations and his eyesight had been sharpened significantly. The exiled Prince could make out the most minute of details in the darkest cracks and corners of the room and an otherworldly voice rang in his mind. He hadn’t ceased smiling since he had taken up the red gem and the feeling of power was intoxicating and he longed for more. Now his vision of the future seemed more certain than it had ever been in the past and he was deep into his imagination by the time the cultist had returned with another member of his order. The two of them entered silently and approached uncertainly. Trelech had closed his eyes and held his arms aloft as he took in every sound and listened to every word that now resonated in his mind, the same manic grin plastered across his twisted face.

  The second man stood in front of his subordinate and he greeted the Prince. Trelech turned his head and he gazed at the newcomer, his lip curling into a derisive smirk as he examined the faces that gawked at him. The two men shifted uncomfortably as Trelech drank in every detail of their appearance. He dismissed the first cultist as he focussed his gaze on the man that he had summoned. He was older than his counterpart and he had a surprisingly stocky frame for someone who led such a cloistered life and there was something oddly familiar that nagged at Trelech. In an instant he pictured Zyffhal’s wretched face and it suddenly became clear. He sha
red many features of the deceased master and Trelech surmised that this man must be his son. The newcomer was well into his forties, or possibly fifties, but he held himself with the same degree of confidence as his father had and it sent a pang of annoyance up Trelech’s spine.

  “You’re the son then,” Trelech observed matter-of-factly. “I hope, for your sake, that you’re not as arrogant as your father was.”

  “So, it is true. My father is dead then,” the other man replied simply. “My name is Kalythyll.” He paused and took stock of the situation, curiously observing Trelech’s grim appearance. “It appears you have done what our order, the Draconis Legium, thought impossible. You have triggered events that are now unstoppable,” Kalythyll said.

  “I had the will to act when all your order did was to hide away in this backward corner of the city,” Trelech spat.

  “You have no idea what you’ve just awoken do you?” Kalythyll asked, a look of concern gleaning across his face. “There was a reason our order refused to touch that gem. To do so meant death.”

  “Well I appear to be in fine health. Better than fine actually. I have never felt this sort of energy flowing through me,” said Trelech, waving a hand at Kalythyll insultingly.

  “Perhaps I should explain for your majesty,” Kalythyll replied patiently. Trelech blanched at these words and appeared to be offended. Kalythyll hid a smirk as he continued. “Our order, as you well know, worships the old Dragon God which is considered heresy. This is why our order was driven underground. We have various sects across the continent and we have long laboured to collect Dragon artefacts of great power. Over the centuries we found two gems and kept them hidden away. Some of our order tried to touch them and all were killed in the attempt. What you have done today should have been impossible but now it seems you have taken the power of that gem into yourself and it will change you irreversibly. You have been imbued with the power of a God and not even we know what will happen to you.”

  “The power of a God!?” Trelech exclaimed, his eyes widening. His imagination was stoking his megalomania and he relished the thought. “With this power nothing can stop me. I’ll be a king and a God! I’ll honour the agreement I made with your father. If you aid me then you too shall gain power and we will sweep away the folly of the Gods. The world will quake at our might.”

  “You have our support Lord. We are your agents and we will strike at your enemies from the shadows. I assume you will want to know of the other gems?” Kalythyll asked.

  “Other gems?” Trelech asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes, my lord. The Draconis Legium found a second gem centuries ago but our scholars long spoke of legends that referred to other gems that have been lost. If we were to find them you could become more powerful,” Kalythyll said.

  “If that is true, we shall dedicate all the manpower we need to uncover whether there is any truth to these legends. But first, I must secure my place on the throne and deal with my father,” Trelech announced, more to himself but he was secretly pleased to have an audience. He stretched his arm and felt a light click from his shoulder joint as he walked from the chamber.

  The red gem was visible through the fabric of Trelech’s tunic and Kalythyll eye-balled it as the Prince left the room. The other cultist hovered by his new master as both of them held a breath as they watched the retreating figure of the Prince. A moment later they breathed a collective sigh of relief as the click of the door announced his exit from the chamber. An unspoken message passed between the two of them and a nod of understanding was enough for both of them to tell that they were of one mind, neither man relishing the situation they now found themselves in and the Prince that now held sway over them. Kalythyll was the first to break eye contact and he knelt beside his father’s remains. He sighed mournfully and he clenched a fist, his mind lost in the swirling vortex of his imagination. After a time, he stood up and addressed his fellow cult member.

  “Get the word out to the rest of the order Gryliaar. Send whatever letters you need to get things moving and tell them what happened here today. Whether we like it or not, things are going to be radically different and I do not know what side of history we will fall upon but we will do as we’re asked,” Kalythyll said softly.

  “I will do as you say,” Gryliaar responded, though the tone of his voice betrayed the fact that he wasn’t fully convinced.

  “I know, I don’t like it either but the moment has not yet come for us to decide our course,” Kalythyll whispered reassuringly. “We will bide our time and when the opportune moment arises, we will act in the best interests of the Draconis Legium. You have men to rally and I have a father to bury.”

  ***

  Ydari felt as if he were tumbling into a void from which there was no return. He fell through darkness, an ancient voice talking to him across the ages. Gradually the words became less alien to him and more ordered. Visions flashed before him as he descended through his subconscious; tales of long-dead people fighting tremendous winged serpents; armies clattering off the shields of their foe. They gradually subsided until they were replaced with the lingering image of a huge speckled jewel with a winged form hovering protectively over it. Occasionally familiar voices came through with piercing clarity and washed these aside and, for the briefest of moments, it was if Ydari could reach out and drag himself free from this stupor. Every time he did so however it slipped through his fingers and he dashed about madly trying to regain some semblance of order until at last he gave up and the visions came back in full force.

  Ydari awoke with a start, his head pounding and the taste of the dirt and ash in his mouth. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the cold light of the afternoon and even longer for him to be aware of his surroundings. Every minute movement sent a spasm of pain like a knife plunging into his flesh. The Captain resigned himself to merely lying still and waiting for the horrendous agony to pass, all the while a constricting warmth spreading across his chest and made each breath an agonising effort. It was in this state that Ydari found himself for hours until, at long last, it began to subside. With a lengthy groan, Ydari swung his legs to the side of the bed and pulled himself up into a seated position. He cast his eyes about the room and the familiar trappings of his office greeted him. Everything was as he remembered it, save for his armour that he had worn into the catacombs, which now decorated one corner of the floor and it appeared some care had been taken with its placement.

  Ydari pushed himself up, a twinge here and there from his protesting limbs. Spasms of pain wormed their way up his spine as he stood up and Ydari kept his eyes shut as he took a lurching step. He found his footing quickly and soon enough he tottered over to his desk. He took a seat in the chair and turned it about to face the window. The brilliant warmth was gone, replaced with an oppressive haze of dull grey as a thick sheet of clouds obscured the glorious sunshine. Ydari sighed as he began to focus on his recent recollections. The skirmish in the catacombs played out vividly along with the feeling of being ensnared by something vastly beyond his comprehension. After that his memories became a jumbled mess and in spite of how hard he tried the Captain was unable to bring any cohesion to the random assortment of images that zipped by.

  Muffled screams drifted into Ydari’s ears, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him back to reality. The Captain rose to his feet once more and, after a painstaking amount of time, Ydari readied himself for the day ahead, donning a loose-fitting white shirt paired with plain black trousers. Ydari shuffled his way over to the door and cracked it open. The dulcet tones of Lothram arguing with someone could be heard and Ydari sighed audibly. He craned his ear closer to the door to listen. The voice of Lothram’s verbal sparring partner was clearly that of a woman and yet there was something strangely familiar about the voice that bellowed insults at the Sergeant. Ydari laughed at a couple of the verbal barbs before he swung the door open and stepped through. As he did so he caught sight of the female mage that he had followed through the streets. Both of t
hem remained ignorant of the sound of his footfalls whilst Lothram continued to berate her.

  “Well you can’t I’m afraid. Now would you get out of here and stop making a scene,” Lothram yelled at the top of his lungs. A few of the more amused watchmen were sitting idly by while one fellow had his hand half raised to his mouth with a half-eaten sandwich.

  “Don’t be a fool!” Raelynne shrilled back. She leaned against the counter as she screamed her retort, a shower of saliva splashing into the Sergeant’s face. He wiped this away irritably. “Don’t you understand basic logic? If he doesn’t get my help he will die!”

  “I see the watch house is a beacon of love and harmony,” Ydari grumbled sardonically. “Just what in the hell is going on here?” the Captain asked.

  “Sir!? You shouldn’t be walking about,” Lothram exclaimed, his head wheeling at the sound of his Captain’s voice.

  “Finally, something we agree on,” huffed Raelynne.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Ydari asked quizzically.

  “Don’t you recall what happened in the Catacombs?” Lothram asked, his face uncharacteristically grey and lined with concern.

  “Not really. The last few hours have been a blur, honestly,” Ydari responded.

  “Uh, sir. It’s been nearly a week since... “Lothram said, his voice trailing off. There was a pregnant pause from everyone gathered.