The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  Shaken visibly by the experience, Keldron tried to stand, only to find that his legs were as weak as a baby's. Reaching an aching hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he noticed blood on his palm. Looking at the other hand he was shocked to see that he had clenched his fists so hard that the tips of his fingernails had drawn blood.

  “Keldron, what is it?” whispered Joleen. The look of concern on her face overpowered any remaining fear Keldron had left. They had to move fast and move now.

  As an answer he whispered, “Later.” Taking her by the hand, Keldron pushed straight into the foliage, seeking a gap through the trees. He was surprised when he nearly fell flat on his face. As soon as he cleared the heavy foliage, there was a path through to the other side. Dried needles provided a brown carpet to walk on. At any other time, this would have made the perfect travellers' resting place, but for now, Keldron paused, listening for any further signs of activity. He looked questioningly at Joleen, who nodded urgently. The sounds of fighting intensified in the distance. Breaking the coverage of the foliage slightly, Keldron peered out. The track on the other side was clearly marked and showed signs of extensive use.

  “Nobody around. They must have all gone into the main village.” Pushing through, Keldron held the boughs apart for Joleen.

  “They must have known this forest well, whomever planned this,” commented Joleen as she looked up and down the path.

  “Why? What makes you think that? Surely there are many routes in and out of the village in places like this.”

  Joleen shook her head. “This route is barely used, and look at the amount of tracks on it now. Trust me Keldron, someone has been learning a lot about this place. The merchant route is out to the East, on the other side of the village. Nobody would have any reason to be out here.”

  About to ask another question, Keldron was caught short by the sound of a door being smashed. Completely silent, both dropped to their knees, ready to spring if anybody followed them. The slow, steady thud of somebody looking for something moved around the enclave on the other side of the trees. Keldron barely drew breath as he waited. More sounds, and now there were several figures in the enclave.

  “So?” asked one particularly rough voice.

  “I was told they came through here.”

  “By whom? The watchers? Those thrice-damned wizards haven't got a clue. Trust in what you can see and touch, mate. It'll get you a lot more than those idiots will give you.”

  There was some movement of the trees, and obviously satisfied with his cursory sweep, the owner of the first voice moved away. “Come on lads, there's a fighting still. Some say there's a way down to the rest.”

  “But what about the other two?”

  “Well you can wait for 'em here. But there's treasure down there, so they say, and seeing as they are obviously not here, perhaps you might want to look elsewhere for your missing wizard and his wench.” Keldron remained statue still as he listened to this curious exchange of words continue. The rest had evidently gone, for one man scuffed his boots in the dirt, moaning and muttering about bad luck and wizards. Finally, his greed obviously getting the better of him, he went back into the tavern, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Keldron sighed in relief, and raked his hand back through his hair as he thought about what to do next.

  Joleen seemed to have already made her mind up. “Come on, quick,” she whispered as she moved in the direction of the track. When Keldron saw that it was the direction away from the village, he stopped.

  “Keldron, we can't go back there!”

  “But what about the others? We can't just leave them!” How Keldron prevented a hoarse whisper from becoming a shout he would never come to know. “Those two are as brothers to me. I will be damned if we have come all this way to learn what we have, just to be split up by a bunch of thugs!”

  “Those thugs are all armed to the teeth, or did you not notice that? And they have wizards too. What are you going to do about them? You cannot battle your way through a whole army just to lead them through to the valley.” Joleen looked imploringly at Keldron, her face flushed with the heat of emotion.

  “Kel, there are other ways out of that valley, and we could not get to them if we tried. There must be hundreds of them in this army, not to mention what other things they have brought with them. I felt the evil too, as every member of the tribe would have. I guarantee you that they are leaving the valley as we speak. We should do the same. We know where they are headed. Once we leave here we can head in the same direction and find them along the way. But we must leave now, or anybody doubling back is going to find us.”

  Chapter Seven

  It caught Raoul and Belyn by surprise when they were suddenly struck with a feeling of such unspeakable dread that it was all they could do not to cower on the floor of the valley. Looking around, they could see that many of the people around them flinched, and many of the children looked as if they would cry. Belyn looked at Raoul. “What in the name of the Gods was that?”

  It was Yerdu who replied. “That was a warning from the forest. Something is wrong here, and we must leave now.”

  “What do you mean, now?” replied Belyn. “What about Kel and Joleen? We cannot leave without them.”

  Raoul recognised the tones in his close friend's voice. Mule stubbornness born out of loyalty to his friend; they had started this quest together and Belyn would see that they ended it together as well.

  Yerdu was unperturbed. “Fool man. A warning from the forest should not be taken lightly. Look around you, already those who were unsure have decided, and are leaving.”

  Belyn looked around the valley. It was true. In the brief moments since the feeling of dread, already streams of people were making their way out of the bowl. As if to emphasise the point, a scream was heard and a man fell from the top of the cliff to land in a sprawled heap at the bottom, not far from where they were standing.

  “You see?” said Yerdu as she pointed. “The enchantment maybe strongest up there, but it is not fail-safe, and already, whomever these people are, they have started trying to find a way to us. If Joleen and Keldron have escaped, surely you would be able to scry them with one of your focuses you talk so grandly about, but we must leave now!”

  The emphasis tinged with panic in Yerdu's voice was enough for Raoul, and Belyn moved too, although much more reluctantly. “How long until they could find a way down here?”

  Yerdu shrugged. “Depends. I have no idea who they are, nor why they would want to come down here.”

  Raoul took a look in the direction of the crumpled mess that had until recently been a man. The gleam of weaponry showed the man possibly had intentions other than peaceful trade. More unfortunate for him though was the fact that his weapons had been underneath when he had fallen, and were now poking up through the remains of his body.

  “The Gods save Kel; this man was armed, and heavily. I think getting out of here is best for us all.”

  * * *

  Meanwhile, in a tower much further North, a group of old men folded parchment sacred to them, and dipped the pieces into a large shallow bowl, filled to the brim with water. The water absorbed the paper, causing it to disintegrate and colour the water slightly. As the last of them released his hold on the parchment he had vowed to keep as long as he lived, a figure shrouded in a hood and cloak stepped towards him. “Is it complete?” A silent nod was all the hooded figure would receive, for all the twelve men, who now joined hands, had vowed to protect their order, the order of nature, known by the common man as the monkey clan, by cutting their tongues out when they were about to be captured.

  Dressed still in the green robes they had donned when captured, they moved in a slow circle; clockwise, to indicate the progression of the seasons. They could not speak, but they had learnt to express their words in a variety of notes, and they hummed such notes. The progression was steady, but as the hooded figure leaned forward, the bowl began to glow. The glow faltered at first, like a can
dle whose wick was drowning in a sea of wax, but then it grew steadily as the power of the seasons manifested in the circle that the order moved around. The bowl, a piece of perfection crafted in ages past, was made purely of a rock called greenstone, or nephrite, and it was in tune with all living things thanks to its strong green colour. It drew the power from the chant and produced a focus unlike any seen to the common man. The scrying power of this bowl was phenomenal and produced much better results than any other focus in existence.

  The stately procession of the twelve linked men continued, their robes swirling in unison to create a mass of dark colour. As the energy contained within the bowl multiplied, the bowl itself became one with the mass, and it effervesced upwards. In response, the tune hummed by the twelve changed, taking on a questioning tone, expectant for directions.

  “Show me the valley at the centre of the great forest, where the traders meet,” the hooded man commanded. In response, a large section of the vibrant energy cleared to reveal the land rushing by underneath, as the scrying made the connection between here and there. Only possible because the twelve had travelled the land in body and spirit, and knew all places. Ignoring the circle of moving men, he stared as the land rushed in, the dark stain of the forest becoming the individual trees in a bowl-like valley, surrounded on one side by cliffs. “Move in closer, down near the ground.” The view slowly descended, to reveal people readying themselves for departure. They were of no note. He searched the view for something other than them, and he found it.

  The cave entrance was still at the bottom of the cliffs, as he had read in the ancient texts of his library. Grinning with an evil glee, he almost danced a jig where he stood. “Pull the view back, that I may see the top of the cliffs.” Again the view shifted, allowing a view of the cliff top. He looked beyond, and could see the village at the cliff top. One further command, and the view of the village became clear as crystal. There was a running battle between a group of hunters and the men he had sent to the village. He rubbed his ancient hands together, barely able to contain himself as he watched the struggle between the ant-sized figures. He knew that should he desire it, he would be able to see the fear and pain on each dying face, two emotions that he relished as they had great energy potential for the darker side of magic. Nevertheless, the commanding view brought something else to his attention. Between the village and the cliff the view became hazy. He knew from years of experience that this was a focus that only the highest magic could breach. He also knew that one of the highest magics was being practised in this very room.

  As if anticipating his next wish, the faces in the circle of twelve paled as they moved, but not once did the circle falter. He ducked in through the arms of two of the ordermen and stood as close as he could to the vision. “Destroy that enchantment,” he commanded as he pointed with one gnarled finger at the vision. “Allow my people access to the valley.” As he watched, the tone of the ordermens' hum increased greatly, and the shimmering haze over the forest disappeared. Just as he found himself looking for the object that filled his deepest thoughts with longing, the view was hurtled backwards away from the forest. In the blink of an eye the forest had gone, and the mountain chain that filled the gap between this tower and the forest sped by. It was then he noticed the circle had faltered.

  The energy needed to maintain that focus must have drained them, he pondered. Several of the men were shaking, and one had half-slumped even as he walked. In his state of unconsciousness, he let go if the next man's hand despite all attempts to hold on. Those who could, dived away from the focus, and it exploded with the recoil of energy. The old, hooded man was caught right in the middle of the blast.

  For a split second searing heat tried to burn his face, but he controlled it quickly. He focussed the energy into the midnight-black stone he always carried with him. The glare subsided, and a moment of disappointment melted into irony as he chuckled. The bowl had blown apart, several chunks managing to embed themselves in those he had used to do this. Had they tongues, they might have screamed in pain, but in their state of expended energies the most they could manage was a feeble moan. Those who had been spared just slumped to the floor. He thought to himself that it was just typical that the force to destroy such a rare focus came from nature itself, and not from his doings. Humming a catchy bit of the twelve's spell to himself, he wandered out to find other amusements.

  In the silence of the room, one man looked about; the sole conscious member of the twelve sighed silently in relief that the fool had not used the power of the focus for anything more. Had he truly known the level of power at his disposal, he could have done anything short of destroying the gods themselves. The orderman sang a silent prayer to Jettiba in the depths of his mind, and then began to crawl around the floor, searching for fragments of the exploded bowl.

  * * *

  The valley was emptying rapidly. Despite his agreement to leave with the rest of them, Belyn was trying to delay as long as he possibly could. His repeated argument with Yerdu and Raoul was that Keldron and Joleen might have been on their way down the cliff path. Eventually, Raoul had gotten impatient, and with a brotherly hug had departed ahead with others of the tribe. The general idea was to meet at the town in the mountain pass, and Belyn was satisfied that Keldron knew this through Joleen.

  Ushering others ahead of him, Belyn started up the rise at the western edge of the valley. He had a good view of the cliffs, and still saw the occasional body fall with a distant scream. Glad he was nowhere near that side of the valley, Belyn was about to turn and leave in a rickety wagon Yerdu had found. There was room for just the two of them and no provisions, the cart being a latticework of wood with a roof and wheels, but little more. What prevented him turning was the cloud formation atop the cliffs. Yerdu too stared at the cliff top, as did several others. “So is that kind of thing usual?” Belyn asked, unsure of what to make of this phenomenon.

  “I have no idea what that is, and if you have any sense, we would not be waiting here to find the answer to your question.” Glancing aside, Belyn looked aside and saw Yerdu staring, her eyes lost in mystery at what was happening. “Maybe this was part of your coming to us,” she murmured.

  The cloud atop the cliff was not dark, but several strands intertwined like a maiden's wedding plait. The growing finger reached down hungrily towards the top of the cliffs. As it did so, it took on a greenish hue and appeared to touch the top of the cliffs. A jolt shook through Belyn that knocked him off of his feet. The impact had the same effect on everyone else still present. There was no noise, but atop the cliff, the trees had all disappeared, and one could make out the squared lines of wooden buildings. The finger of cloud had gone, and in its place was a hole in the cloud, as if someone had fired something straight through.

  Belyn stood slowly, checking that he was all right. He helped Yerdu up, and she nodded thanks. Checking him over to see that he truly was all right she poked him in the shoulder. “So, you lump, what do you think of dallying now?”

  Finally convinced, Belyn reluctantly started towards the rim of the valley. “I think Yerdu that this was definitely not to do with any foretelling, in fact I think we had best get out of here now.”

  “LOOK!” shouted one of the tribesmen, pointing in the direction of the cliffs. A mass of people could be seen where the trees had once been, and an echoing roar vibrated around the perfect acoustics of the valley, chilling the souls of everyone still within. Those who had been taking their time for love of the valley were now shocked into moving, and Belyn and Yerdu almost found themselves alone.

  “How long until that lot could reach the valley floor?”

  “Not long. It seemed from the noise that there are a lot of them, so the descent will be gradual, but the only thing limiting them is the size of the paths. There was never any need for a defence as we had the enchantment, so the paths are built to aid those using them. We should be safe though.”

  Belyn looked ahead, watching the last few people leave the de
ep green of this lush valley. “What about everybody else? Will they hide, or just flee?”

  Yerdu looked ahead at the departing few and wrinkled her nose in indifference. “They will flee or hide as they have chosen. It is of no matter. Those who will have chosen to stay will be protected by the trees. They will be almost invisible to anyone seeking them.”

  Belyn watched behind him as they made their way up the slope of the tree-laden valley. The track was fairly straight, only winding through the lush grass of the slopes where it had to. For now, there was no sign of anyone at the foot of the cliffs. Belyn worried for the things he had left there. Reassured by having his collection of focus stones in a pack on the horse though, he soon became more worried about evading pursuit, as the cart was tiresomely slow.

  As they reached the rim of the valley, he engaged his focus of far -sight, holding the stone steadily while Yerdu drove the cart. Looking back through the valley, the occasional wisp of smoke from a smouldering ember could be seen. He trained his thoughts on the path entrance at the base of the cliffs. For a moment nothing could be seen, but then a couple of wiry old men dressed in great cloaks emerged. They seemed to be staring right at him for a second until they turned and walked out of his view. Then steadily, a flow of men, armed with every weapon conceivable, came from the path. They wandered around the ex-camp, though they did not show any interest in pursuing those so recently gone. Realising there was nothing he could do aside from give himself away, Belyn released his will, concentration ebbing as he relaxed.

  “Anything?” questioned Yerdu.

  Drawing a deep breath Belyn answered with a nod. “They have reached the bottom. They are not moving away from the entrance, but I'm sure it is only a matter of time before someone takes the initiative and leads them after us. I think we should make best speed to the mountains while we still can.”

  * * *

  Getting out of the immediate area of the village proved difficult for Keldron and Joleen. They had not made a half league when they felt the same invisible shunt everybody attuned to the awareness of the forest had felt. It was some time before either Joleen or Keldron felt up to moving, so they stayed in some dense bushes, listening to the occasional set of footfalls moving nearby. When they did feel like moving they moved slowly, ready to hide at the merest sound. Sense dictated that erring on the side of caution was a much better option than getting caught.