Blue Diamonds (Book One of The Blue Diamonds Saga)

by Murphy, R. E.

  “I don’t think so,” he finally answered. “An elemental has very strong senses.”

  Kala raised a brow curiously, but was satisfied with the answer.

  Liar.

  “On the bright side, we still have plenty of time to plan,” he said, attempting to sound hopeful.

  Plenty of time? To do what? Give the monster another fake leg? You’re going to get everyone killed! erupted Ambrosia.

  “Will you please be quite for one minute? How can I think of a plan with your unending squawking?” snapped Baymar.

  “The witch?” Kala asked, grinning.

  I have a name! Tell her I have a name! If you think I’m being loud now you have another thing coming cleric! I will scream you into insanity!

  “Ambrosia! Ambrosia! Her name, is Ambrosia,” whimpered Baymar.

  “Okay, okay. It's all good,” laughed Kala.

  “Try telling her that,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Let’s get back to the others.”

  As they turned their gaze from Aga and back to the rocky trail they nearly tripped over one another in disbelief. In the northwest, billows of smoke rose from the forest. At the center of the dark, rolling plumes of smoke, an occasional flickering of flame could be seen. Beside it was a pulsing, red light, but it was too camouflaged behind the smoke to identify what was generating it. All they could really tell was that whatever was lounging within the fire was big.

  The dragon has been summoned, Ambrosia said, in perfect unison with Baymar’s thoughts.

  Kala was hit by feelings of despair for the trees and animals, but there was something familiar about that part of the forest. She gasped in realization.

  “It's Berwyn, a small farming village,” she said.

  Every few seconds, a gust of wind would thin the smoke enough for her to see behind the billows. Kala could see that there was no longer a town, but a charred plot of land where Berwyn once stood.

  "And it has been devastated," she added.

  A village of farmers would not stand a chance, said Ambrosia.

  “We have no time to waste. We need to get down there quickly. It's starting a path to Somerlund,” said Baymar.

  “Wait! There’s more,” Kala held Baymar's arm. “Just north of the smoke, can you see them?”

  To Baymar, what she spoke of appeared to be a river. It looked like a long string of random shimmering lights, but her elfin eyes saw much more.

  "What do you see girl?" He squinted and altered his focus several times but it was no use. Even in his prime he wouldn’t be able to see something so far away.

  “There are soldiers in the forest! Hundreds of them, and bearing the flag of Somerlund. They're suited for battle, and headed directly for the smoke.”

  “What? They’ve come to battle the dragon?”

  "They couldn't have known," said Kala. "Berwyn's flames are fresh. They won't know what they're walking into. They're moving downwind towards the town."

  It was true, but even had the winds been calm, this particular section of the wood was dense, and the umbrella of foliage would have almost completely blocked their view of the sky.

  Then at least we won’t die alone, said Ambrosia.

  “That means we have to hurry.” Baymar grabbed Kala by the elbow, and nudged her towards the path. It took her no time at all to oblige, and was quickly far ahead of him skipping down the rocky path like a mountain goat.

  Actually, there's no reason to hurry, Ambrosia said. You can consider them dead. Unless they have a powerful wizard, they can’t hope to stand against the demon. Even you don't have a fraction of the power required to stop the dragon.

  “Then what do you suggest we do?” It was becoming completely morbid for Baymar to envision arguing with himself for the rest of his life.

  Capture or destroy the diamond. If you control of the stone you will in turn control the dragon. If you destroy the diamond its soul will return to the spirit realm.

  “What if we just kill its master?” said Baymar.

  If you kill the master while the demon is out, it will be completely free. Then it will defend the diamond at all costs, while it unleashes its fury on the world. You must destroy the stone. It is your only chance.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll take the diamond. It sounds simple enough...” Baymar whispered through his stumbling effort to keep up with Kala, who gracefully glided down the rocky trail ahead of him. His mind was already racing through scenarios.

  I hope you are as confident as you sound wizard.

  “So do I Ambrosia, so do I.”

  Fool, said Ambrosia. Hope isn't magic.

  "But maybe it was, once," countered Baymar. "Like a long lost cousin?" he added, and they left it at that, for no one really knew what magic was either. Wizards really only borrowed, and then bent it.

  Kala reached the others much ahead of the cleric without breaking a sweat.

  “There are flames to the west of us!” she sang out.

  In unison, Shomnath, Pall, and Rolo glared at the tree line.

  “You can't see it from here," she said. "But we could from higher ground. The dragon destroyed the village to the west.”

  “Berwyn,” muttered Pall.

  “Then west we go,” Shomnath said, and pulled out his amulet. Pall and Rolo quickly did the same.

  “Wait, Ambrosia told me how to defeat the dragon,” announced Baymar, breathing heavily as he finally caught up.

  Finally, a little credit, said Ambrosia.

  “We must either seize or destroy the diamond. Killing the master isn't enough,” Baymar said.

  Explain the part about the demon roaming freely. Baymar, I cannot begin to tell you how bad it will be if they do not do this correctly, Warned Ambrosia, but Baymar held his tongue. He did notice however that Ambrosia used his name, which was a nice surprise.

  “Fine. I’ll kill the master, and the rest of ye can worry about the diamond,” said Pall, without hesitation. He was not going to give up his right to vengeance.

  Tell them! Ambrosia yelled from what felt like the depths of Baymar's mind.

  “Pall can kill the wizard, but we must take the stone first,” reminded Baymar.

  “How do we know it’s a wizard?” asked Shomnath.

  “No one could summon the dragon without magic, that much I can tell you. Although a wizard will be the least of our concerns if we don't handle this the right way.”

  Shomnath looked deep into Baymar's eyes and recognized the dread behind his words. “Then it's a plan," said the prince. "Pall, the wizard is yours, while they rest of us will focus on his diamond.” Shomnath knew that there would be no arguing with the dwarf, but he agreed that Pall deserved the right to avenge his kin.

  “Aye,” said Pall.

  “But remember, don't land the killing blow, unless you are totally sure that we have the stone.”

  "Aye," The dwarf said again, although more solemnly this time.

  “Did you see the beast?” Shomnath asked Kala.

  “No," she said. "But there's another thing Shomnath, your father’s army is here.”

  “What? What is he doing here?”

  “I don’t know if he's here personally, but well over a hundred troops bearing his sigil are marching for Berwyn right now.”

  “Dugan,” uttered Shomnath, deep in thought. “He can’t know what he’s marching into.”

  “Good to have extra arms if you ask me,” declared Rolo.

  “And more reason to hurry if ye ask me," said Pall. "Starky won’t be beating me to me kill.” Pall had already mounted his bison, and was glaring impatiently at Shomnath.

  “Day’s getting better and better,” grinned Rolo as he swung onto his saddle.

  Time seemed to slow as the prince watched his friends mount up. He didn’t feel the rush he’d expected. The climax of their journey seemed to be nearing, but numbness took him, rather than excitement. In place of excitement was concern, not only for his companions, but for his mentor as well. Whatever happe
ned from here on, the fun and games were over. From here on they would need to proceed with absolute caution.

  “Well?” Pall was losing what little patience the dwarf had.

  “Alright then," said Shomnath. "Let's ride.”

  “Kala, I want you to stay ahead of us and scout, because you're the only one who can move through the forest unnoticed. We need to know more about our enemy. If we're fighting a wizard we'll need the element of surprise.”

  “And ye better not be thinking of attacking till the rest of us are by yer side, or at least not until I’m there,” Pall said with a wink.

  “What about the turtle?” Rolo said and looked to Baymar, as did everyone else.

  Yes, what about the turtle? teased Ambrosia.

  “I’ll stay a distance behind you," said Baymar. "And I will handle Aga myself.”

  What? said Ambrosia.

  “What?” said Shomnath, and the prince searched Baymar’s face for any hint of uncertainty. He found none. The old man had made up his mind.

  “I’m the one who tricked him," said Baymar. "And I'd bet that he's focused solely on me. Let me solve the problem that I’ve caused.”

  Shomnath gave Baymar a moment to reconsider, but when the cleric didn't falter he just nodded.

  You are going to get us killed, you old fool, said Ambrosia, and Baymar simply shrugged, as if to say, maybe.

  “All right," Shomnath said. "You keep behind, but not so far that you won’t be able to reach us if you find yourself in a bind.”

  Shomnath then shook Baymar’s hand and mounted his own bison. Before starting though, he gave a quick nod to Kala and she dashed off, down the path, and then disappearing into the forest en route to Berwyn. She knew this forest well, and chose to go ahead on foot. Darting through the branches, she would still be able to maintain an easy lead over her friend's slow trot.

  After giving Kala a solid head start, Shomnath gripped the golden hilt of his sword and beckoned his animal down the path after her, Rolo and Pall in tow.

  “Be safe lord Baymar," called Shomnath, without looking back. "If you manage to handle that monster, it’ll be the biggest surprise you’ve given me yet!” he laughed. Shomnath was convinced that it would be the last time he would ever see the old man, and couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.

  Baymar waited and watched them vanish into the woods, before pulling his own amulet out into the sun. Once his bison materialized, he stroked its shaggy main and listened for the quiet rumbling sound of Aga in the distance. He listened to the whispering wind, hoping to find some sort of answer within its clarity. Once he felt he had a handle on his nerves, he swung up to the saddle and guided his steed away.

  Do you have a plan? said Ambrosia.

  Baymar willed his bison into a relaxed pace and chuckled.

  “You know," smiled Baymar. "I think I do.”

  14) The Archmage

  High above his city, in the eastern tower of the castle, King Shomnor was receiving more bad news in his private study. Earlier, Alexander had returned nearly empty handed from what was sure to be a half-assed investigation of the library. According to the library monks, the last book with any material pertaining to soul gems was acquired by a young dwarf only days ago. What was even more maddening than the book being checked out by a dwarf, (everyone knew dwarves distrusted magic after all) was that a young dwarf from clan Hammerheart checked it out! It was too preposterous to be mere coincidence, but this wouldn’t be the only bad news from the bishop. The real shocker was who Alexander found to be next in line for the seat of Archmage.

  Now, slumping in his throne, his face paling more and more by the second, the king looked down to his next closest advisor. The king was having an extremely difficult time believing that the raggedy, eighteen-year-old standing before him was to be Somerlund’s highest-ranking wizard.

  Cowering in peasant attire and wearing a mop of unkempt, curly blonde hair that covered most of his face, Fenwick seemed more frightened than proud to learn about his imminent promotion. The king could hardly believe that this child, who seemed incapable of separating from Alexander’s hip, was going to stand next to him in private council.

  For the last ten minutes the boy’s dark brown eyes were glued to the king’s feet. The only sound the young man had made since his introduction was a sigh of relief, when Shomnor’s bodyguard, Londo, entered the room and interrupted the king’s interrogation to bring important news. The relief was short lived, as it became evident that it was more bad news. Evidently, Londo also failed to find someone the king wanted to see.

  “Not there?” asked the king. “Tell me, my faithful Londo. After deducting that the cleric was, as you said, not there, did you take any steps to find him?”

  Londo couldn’t unlock his eyes from Shomnor’s fingers, which were impatiently drumming on the golden armrest to the throne. He felt the loud THUMP, THUMP, THUMPing in his bones.

  “Yes. Well, I tried your highness,” said Londo.

  “Tried?” the king repeated in a venomous tone. He hated the word. To him, it was just another word for failed. “Please, enlighten me on the extra steps you took.”

  “Well your highness, after a while of my knocks going unanswered, I tried to break into the school to check for clues.”

  Bishop Alexander choked on his breath, trying hard not to break out in laughter. With every slow word that came out of Londo’s mouth, the king's complexion shifted in color.

  “Well done," stated Shomnor, his words heavy with sarcasm, "please, tell me about your findings,”

  “I could not get in,” Londo meekly replied, and the king's whole body went stiff.

  “You are stronger than my horse! Are you telling me you couldn’t break down a door?”

  Londo shrugged pitifully, and held up his hands. At a glance it appeared Londo was wearing long black gloves, but Shomnor quickly realized they were badly burnt and covered in a thick layer of black soot.

  “It shocked me your highness,” said Londo.

  “What shocked you?”

  “The door, your highness.”

  Alexander released a loud bellowing laugh that he manipulated into a series of fake, violent coughs.

  “The door shocked you?” asked Shomnor, once Alexander got a grip on himself.

  “First the door. Then the window. Even the chimney, your highness,” whimpered Londo. "I had men question the neighbors, and they all agree that he left days ago with a small group.

  Memories of his crafty old friend raced through his mind and he couldn't help but to grin. But he also knew his old friend wasn't the type to cower in a corner of his house, so although Londo couldn't find Baymar, his dance with the wizard's defenses told Shomnor that Baymar was not around.

  "Another thing, your highness," said Londo.

  "Go on."

  "The neighbors called one of the men a giant."

  “Thank you Londo, you may leave," Shomnor said with a wave of his hand. "Have the clerics tend to your hands.” Shomnor’s forehead fell into the palm of his hand, as if the weight of his face became too much to bear suddenly. At least he knew whom his son managed to recruit for his quest.

  “Thank you, your highness,” said Londo, but the king wasn't listening.

  As Londo wobbled out of the study, Alexander was still sputtering out a few coughs, which caught the king's attention. Shomnor sneered at Alexander, but shifted his focus on his next victim.

  “Fenwick? Fenwick. Ahh, Fenwick. Please, tell me. Of all your peers, are you the most skilled in the art of magic?” Shomnor was now stroking his grey beard and staring hard into Fenwick’s eyes. Fenwick met his gaze momentarily, but quickly shot his focus back down to the king's feet.

  “Yes, your highness,” said Fenwick, and quite confidently.

  Alexander jerked in surprise, and stared at the young man incredulously. Fenwick returned his look with a helpless shrug. It wasn’t a lie, for in fact Fenwick was the only student at the mage’s guild. All of the other guild members
had quit.

  “Really?” said Shomnor, and the king suspiciously looked him up and down, hoping that he’d misjudged the young man by his unlikely appearance. He couldn’t tell what his clothes had more of, stains, or holes. “What can you tell me about conjuring spirits from a soul gem?”

  “Not much your highness," replied the young man. "I, uh, haven’t covered soul gems in my studies, yet.”

  Alexander slowly backed a few steps, all too willing to give Fenwick the stage with his newfound confidence.

  “Well then," said Shomnor. "Besides Horace, who were your instructors?”

  “There are no other instructors, your highness.”

  “No instructors? How were you and other students able to learn anything?” Shomnor was swiftly losing his patience. Fenwick proudly pulled a raggedy notebook from under his shirt, stepped up to the throne, and held it out to the king.

  “I practiced these spells in between my chores," said Fenwick. "I’ve mastered every one but the last.”

  Shomnor hesitantly accepted the booklet. It was bound in a lime green, velvet cover. By the look of its worn appearance, one could only imagine what the manual had been through. The outside of the booklet only had one word etched into the lower right corner.

  NOVICE

  The king found no comfort in what he read next, as he skimmed through the first several, stained pages. After a quick analysis of the first three spells, which were for boiling water, making ink, and seed sprouting, Shomnor cut straight to the last page. His eyes widened, and he was compelled to read the last one out loud.

  “Fire casting. Candle level.” Shomnor just smiled and handed the notebook back to Fenwick.

  “It’s a complicated spell, your highness,” Fenwick declared.

  Alexander smirked, awaiting the king’s eruption. To his disappointment, Shomnor remained calm.

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll need that one for our current situation," smiled Shomnor. "Is this the same notebook that all the students learn from?”