The Enchanted Emerald (The Enchanted Stones Book 1)

by Donald Craghead

  Time stood still as he stared at the deadly tusks aimed at the woman he loved. Without thought, with a flourish of his hands, he froze the boar to the spot, a mere five feet from her. Before anyone had a chance to react further, Michael spread his arms wide. Following the sweep of his hands, a shimmering green light unfurled to envelop all of the members of the group.

  As the heaviest concentration of animals reached the perimeter of the camp, the wondrous green light expanded to encompass the whole area in a dome of protection. All of the beasts flowed around the protective shield without a single misstep.

  It was nearly five minutes later when the last animal had passed the area. “My God!” exclaimed Thomas. “What the hell is going on here? Something scared the hell out of those animals to cause that kind of stampede.”

  “The stench, Michael,” groaned Everett from the ground where he still lay. “It’s getting stronger. The shield you have erected won’t keep that out. I’m afraid it also won’t keep the cause of it out.”

  “What do you mean?” inquired Michael.

  “I mean that wild charge was not natural. Oh, no doubt, natural fears were induced to cause such madness. But, I believe it was magic that did the inducing!”

  As the five members of the camp began to look around with trepidation, the protective green light began to waver. Once again the night became startlingly hushed.

  At first just a quiet chuckle could be heard breaking the silence. Then a loud malicious laugh rang through the darkness. “Fools!” called a voice from the night. “Your few precious moments of safety are over now.

  “Brother,” called the voice in the dark. “You have something I want, brother. Give it to me and I may at least spare that bitch you care so much about.”

  “Acantha!” called Michael. “The ruby, it’s the ruby that causes you to do this. Fight against the evil of the stone!”

  Again the wild, malignant laughing began beyond the perimeter of the camp.

  “Oh, what a fool you truly are, Michael. I do what I wish. It is I that control the power, it does not control me.”

  “No, Acantha. I know you believe this to be true, but it is the ruby, it controls you.”

  “Enough of this!” screamed the voice of Acantha, as the specter of Croom lurched into the light of the campfire. Acantha’s voice was coming from the corpse.

  It was a chilling sight to see the long-dead man stalk into the camp. The smell of decayed flesh assaulted them with renewed vengeance as they stared at his broken visage. The new clothing he had stolen from the luckless Pitt’s leather shop now hung on him like rags, torn and tattered. The blow that Pitts had delivered to his skull, caused a gaping hole above his left eye. The entire side of his face was beginning to droop at an alarming rate.

  His steady shuffle into the camp came to a halt as he ran into the green shield erected by Michael. His look of confusion, as he turned from side to side to study the strange occurrence, did not match the scornful voice that spurted from him.

  “It will take more than this paltry attempt at magic to keep me at bay, Michael.”

  With no outward sign of assistance from Croom, the green shield began to show small red cracks. They began to lengthen and spread, soon racing from side to side, then from top to bottom. In a matter of seconds the entire dome of green was covered with cracks, all glowing a violent red.

  As the cracks began to pulsate, a sizzling hum could be heard running through the entire dome. There was a brilliant red flash and the dome disintegrated, the air sparkling with green and red motes floating to the ground.

  Michael collapsed to his knees, exhausted from the demands of magic, as he realized his first test against Acantha had ended in failure. He did not have time to indulge in self-pity, however.

  Immediately after the fall of the protective dome, Croom bulled his way straight toward Everett. The aged master raised his right hand; a ball of fire appeared from nowhere.

  Everett hurled the fire-ball and scored a direct hit in the center of Croom’s chest. Croom’s hands flew up to protect his face an instant too late. Blisters appeared on the dead flesh of his face and his hair began to smolder. The leather clothing was charred and smoking.

  Before Everett could unleash a second attack, a blinding red light exploded from Croom and streaked at Everett. The force of Acantha’s magic lifted Everett from his feet and cast him to the far side of the camp. Everett had scarcely hit the ground before Thomas hurled himself at the intruder that had caused his friend such pain. Croom’s strength was inhuman, but the giant mountain man threw his entire weight behind his charge. The pair crashed to the ground with the force of thunder. Thomas was up before they stopped rolling and hauled Croom up after him.

  Oliver came rushing into the middle of the battle. He had snatched a burning limb from the fire, one end still aflame. With weapon lifted overhead, and in both hands, he charged at Croom. It was the first time he had seen this monster that had been pursuing Sarah. He was consumed with fear and anger as he rushed to Thomas’s aid. His emotions gave voice to an anguished howl as he charged.

  Feeling neither pain from Thomas’ attack, nor fear of his two adversaries, Croom called upon his inhuman strength and heaved the giant into the charging Oliver. They fell together, in a tangle of arms and legs. Oliver was trapped beneath the stunned giant.

  Michael was astounded with the speed of the pitched battle. It had been less than a minute since his protective dome had been destroyed. Now his friends lay in discarded heaps with Croom standing dispassionately in the center of the camp.

  Croom turned to Michael and raised his right hand. “I warned you to give me the ring, Michael,” said the voice of Acantha. “Now it is too late. I’ll take it my way!”

  Still on his knees, Michael again reacted instantly, throwing both hands in front of him toward Croom. A shaft of green light sprang from his hands; in the same instance a beam of red was racing to him from Croom. The two stood locked in battle, but not moving. The camp was bathed in the reflected light from the two beams. Splinters of red and green light splayed in all directions as the two forces of power met, centered between the two combatants.

  Michael’s shaft of light slowly began to dim and shrink, showing his power to be weaker than Acantha’s. He fearfully glanced over to Sarah, still on the ground. She had crawled over to Oliver where he had landed on the ground after his attempt to help Thomas. She was watching Michael in his battle with Croom. Her expression showed her fear for Michael, as it was evident he was losing this test of strength as well.

  Michael redoubled his efforts against Croom when he saw the concern reflected in Sarah’s face. Her safety as well as the others’ depended on his success, and there was no one available to give him aid now. Beginning slowly, then gaining in speed, Michael’s shaft of light brightened and spread. Acantha’s magic, being channeled through Croom, was now losing strength against Michael’s superior power fed by the force of his will.

  With an almost audible snap, the clearing was flooded with the brilliant emerald green light. The red glow from Croom’s hand was extinguished. Croom looked at his empty hand in confusion as Michael wrapped him in the green light. His dread and anger had finally mastered his fear. He magically raised Croom from the ground and hurled him into the nearest tree. With broken bones showing through his skin and clothing, Croom still managed to regain his feet. Michael did not pause. Once again he lifted Croom on the end of the spear of light and hurled him into another tree. Before he could regain his feet Croom was streaking to a third tree, then a fourth.

  “No!” came Acantha’s strangled cry. “This battle has only begun Michael!” And with a shattering explosion that knocked Michael from his feet, Croom disappeared. Acantha had pulled her defeated assassin from the fray before he could be lost entirely.

  As suddenly as it had started, the violence ended. Michael scanned the campsite to check on the condition of his friends. There were more than enough bruises and cuts to go around, but consideri
ng their ordeal, everyone seemed to have survived in relatively good condition. Glazed and shocked eyes stared back at him. Thomas was the only one not affected by the violence. With a large grin on his face, he sat next to Oliver.

  “You seem amused, Thomas. What’s so funny?” demanded Michael.

  Thomas’ grin widened as he pointed behind Michael. Still frozen in place was the boar that had stampeded straight for Sarah. Thomas looked around at the other members of the camp. “Dinner, anyone?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Acantha had watched the entire battle from the safety of her laboratory in the highest part of her keep. What she saw did not please her at all. Accepting the outcome of the battle with good graces was not her nature. She reacted to the outcome of the battle with her typical intolerance. She broke every piece of glass, most of the furniture, and the arm of one of her slaves in her anger.

  She threw herself into the nearest unbroken chair to analyze what had gone wrong. She had been doing so well in the beginning. She had smashed through Michael’s shield with ease, and had been able to defeat Everett and those other two clumsy fools with no problem. So what went wrong? She should have been able to overcome Michael’s meager powers with very little effort.

  Maybe it was the distance. After all, she was over one-hundred miles away. That must have been it, she decided; the distance. Michael was learning to call on the power of the emerald, and he was within feet of Croom during the fight, whereas she was so far away.

  “No matter, you little fool,” said Acantha with a sneer. “You told Everett you were coming South with him, and I’ll be waiting.”

  With the grimace of bloodlust on her face, she rose and stormed to the door of her laboratory. Flinging the door open, she quickly twisted her head first to the left, then to the right, peering down the ornate hall.

  At the end of the hallway, a startled slave stood frozen, mop and pail in hand.

  “You! Get in here!” she bellowed, as she stood glaring with finger pointed wickedly at the man.

  The poor fool shrieked and threw bucket and mop in the air. He turned and bolted for the stairwell at the end of the hall.

  With a wave of her hand, Acantha stopped the fleeing slave in mid-stride. She flicked her wrist, and he began moving toward Acantha. He did not move under his own volition, but rather as if he were tied to the end of a long rope, being pulled unwillingly to an evil end. He was pulled the entire length of the hall, screaming and kicking. Nearly insane with fear, the slave collapsed to the floor where he continued his fruitless attempts to escape Acantha’s call.

  He tried to slow his progress by clawing at the floor. Unfortunately the floor was stone and marble. His fingernails cracked, then tore. In the end he was dragged the length of the hall, coming to a stop at Acantha’s feet.

  “Your fingers are bleeding, fool,” said Acantha with a smirk. “I don’t know how much you have to spare, but I plan on taking some of it myself.” She laughed as the poor man clamored to his feet in yet another attempt to escape.

  “Come along now, I have no more time for your whimpering.” She turned on her heel and strode toward her work bench. The slave was pulled from his feet by the invisible bonds that still held him. He tumbled and rolled behind her with every step she took. Upon reaching her worktable, she reached for the only unbroken piece of glassware in the room. She pulled the magical crystal bowl to her and looked down at the cringing slave. With a touch of her finger, he rose to a rigid standing position. She pulled his arm over to the table until his wrist hung like an unmoving branch above the crystal bowl.

  “I don’t know why you people persist in trying to deny me.” She spoke as if to herself, unmindful of the terrified rolling eyes of her servant. She gazed at the veins in the man’s wrist as she prepared to fill her need. Her thumb probed his wrist until she found the vein she wanted. With agonizing slowness she pressed the nail of her thumb into his wrist. The vein puffed, then began to swell, until it finally burst, filling the magical crystal bowl once again.

  When the bowl was nearly full, she released her hold on the slave. His face was drawn and slack, gray bags sagging beneath dull eyes. He collapsed to the floor, passing out from his weakness. With a final wave of her wrist, the slave disappeared. He would awaken much later in the basement slave’s quarters.

  Once again waving her hand over the bowl, the fluid came to life, showing her the scene at Everett’s camp. She would watch them. Soon enough he would make a mistake. When he did, she would be waiting to take advantage of it.

  * * * * * Michael and Sarah both sat near the campfire. The shock of the battle was finally beginning to wear off. The closeness to the light of the fire helped to push away their fears.

  “Well, I think all this calls for some change in plans,” said Michael, breaking the silence.

  “What change do you mean?” asked Everett, suddenly alert to

  the possibility that Michael had changed his mind about the quest. “I don’t believe Sarah would be safe if we left her behind.

  Acantha has become vindictive enough that she would come after

  Sarah, even if it didn’t help her to defeat us. She would be safest if she

  came along with us.”

  Everett sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Well, don’t sound so thrilled, Everett,” Sarah replied

  petulantly. “I’ll try not to get in the way, or slow you down.” “No, I’m not concerned about you slowing us down, I’m

  concerned about your safety. Whether you go with us or stay behind,

  I’m afraid you’re at risk.”

  Sarah was immediately sorry for snapping at Everett. He had

  been a good friend of Michael’s and deserved better treatment than

  that. “I’m sorry, Everett. I know you’re concerned. I’m just jumpy

  because of all that’s happened.”

  Oliver leaned closer to the fire. “Well, I guess I know what I’ll

  be doing for the next couple of months. And not a word from you,

  Sarah, you’re not going without me.”

  Thomas stopped Sarah’s imminent objection by joining the

  conversation. “So, we’re all going together, that’s all settled. What I

  would like to know is how you managed to beat that creature. You said your magic isn’t strong enough to control that stone of yours, but

  it looked to me as if you did a pretty good job.”

  “What do you think, Everett?” asked Michael. “I was

  controlling the stone. It wasn’t acting on its own this time. I don’t

  even know if I could do it again.”

  Everett leaned back against the log he was resting on. “Well,

  maybe you listened more during your classes than either you or I

  realized. I think much of magic is controlled through desire and

  strength of will. The stronger your will to battle this evil, the more

  power you are able to call upon. When you saw that we -- especially

  Sarah -- were lost without you, your will power was at its strongest.

  Just speculation at this point, of course, but at least it’s an educated

  guess.”

  Michael rose from his place near the fire and walked to the edge

  of the clearing. He stared into the night for a couple of minutes, deep

  in thought before returning to the campfire. He stood near the flames

  as he looked around at the friends that had all offered to accompany

  him. “If you are all going to go with us, you deserve to know what

  Everett said to me to convince me to undertake this quest.” The next hour was devoted to telling his friends about the

  history of the enchanted talismans, and his ancestors’ place in history. If Michael had thought his ancestors’ deeds would change his

  friends’ opinion of him, he had misjudged them. At the end of the

  story, all were still committed t
o the journey. If anything, their resolve

  was strengthened when they learned of the danger that would be

  loose in the world if Acantha was successful in her attempt to control

  both rings.

  * * * * * Acantha had watched the entire conversation at the campsite. She continued to watch, even after all of Michael’s followers had retired for the night. They had set a schedule where each of them would take turns staying up and watch over the camp that would extend until daybreak. All of the members of the camp were to take a turn, even Sarah. A plan began to grow as Acantha watched the camp. Soon she saw her chance. The second camp guard of the night had wandered too far from the protection of the group. She could have her way with this one without any interference.

  The call of nature must be answered, even for those on a majestic quest. So it was that one of Michael’s followers was caught in a most compromising position. From the fog that was beginning to settle on the mountain top, a figure was beginning to appear. A portion of the fog separated and began to coalesce until the figure of Acantha stood before the defenseless guard. The figure was only a trick, a likeness of the sorceress, but when it pointed a finger at the guard, movement was impossible.

  “My, it seems I’ve caught you with your pants down, doesn’t it?” Acantha leaned her head back in laughter to enjoy to the fullest her prisoner’s humiliation. The laughter, as was the voice, was light, however. It had the feathery softness of the fog itself.

  The camp guard was struck with a piercing terror. Muscles were locked rigid. Previously warm, dry skin became cold and soaked with frigid perspiration. Stark, unblinking eyes stared into the night. It was obvious evil magic was making an appearance.

  The guard was struck with a piercing terror. His muscles were locked rigid. Previously warm, dry skin became cold and soaked with frigid perspiration. Stark, unblinking eyes stared into the night. The guard knew evil magic was making an appearance.

  “I have filled you with fear, have I not?” inquired the specter. No answer was forthcoming, none was expected.