The Elemental Jewels (Book 1)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Drive the wagon, I guess,” Grange replied with what seemed obvious to him.

  “No, I mean next. How long are we going to ride with these people and pick apples in the countryside? Don’t you think we need to plan to get to a city and live normal lives?” Garrel responded.

  “This isn’t so bad,” Grange said after a moment of consideration. “We’re getting fed good food, the work isn’t that hard; it’s better than digging a tunnel. And we can just ride with them for a while, and maybe they’ll take us all the way to a city, this Palmland they talk about.” Grange was indifferent; compared to his concerns about demons and jewels, life in a city or in the country made little difference. He just wanted life to return to normal.

  “You’re too patient,” Garrel grumbled. But he said no more, and their wagon rolled steadily on into the darkness of the night, following the lantern that hung at the front of Thrall’s wagon.

  “I’m going to sleep for a while,” Garrel announced not too much later. “Wake me when it’s my turn to drive the wagon.” He climbed over the back of the bench onto the bed of the wagon, where he lay down in a narrow spot between the stacks of freight.

  Grange sat alone, watching the wagon light ahead and holding the reins as they slowly advanced through the lightly populated foothills of the mountains. The horses moved at a leisurely rate, the road was following the gentle contours of the land, and there was little for Grange to do along the way, as the stars overhead gleamed brightly, twinkling less than he expected as he looked up at them.

  There were sounds in the forest that lined the road. He heard wolves howl, and a profusion of nightjars calling to one another, but nothing else of note happened until he dimly saw a light figure suddenly dash out of the forest and run up to the side of the wagon. As he gaped in astonishment, a girl with long blond hair leapt agilely up onto the moving wagon and plopped herself down upon the bench next to him.

  His eyes were wide, and his mouth gaped open as he looked at the lovely girl in astonishment, trying to carefully examine her to determine if there was a demon on her back, the precursor to another frightening attack. There appeared to be no such creature, and the girl looked familiar, he decided.

  “Garrel!” he called hoarsely.

  “No,” the girl spoke to him in a musical voice. “Don’t wake him. Let him sleep. I came to see you anyway.”

  “Me? Who are you?” Grange asked, even more surprised by her unexpected declaration.

  She tilted her head to one side. “You know me. I’m Ariana,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  The name sounded familiar, and he remembered that he had seen her working in the cider barn when he had been given the flute. She had winked at him then.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I’m running away; I’m ready to go see the world. You need someone to look after you, I decided. I’m going to travel to the big city with you,” she explained easily.

  “You’re running away? To be with me?” he asked faintly. No girl as pretty as this one had ever paid attention to him, except for Lurinda, who had been enchanted by his musical skills, and Lurinda wasn’t as lovely as Ariana was.

  “I know you’ll take care of me, and I’ll watch out for you too. We can see the world together, the next big city, and anything that comes along,” there was a subtle nuance in her reference to anything that came along, but Grange was at a loss over the whole statement, the whole situation, unable to decipher anything beyond the fundamental fact that there was a girl suddenly sitting next to him in the middle of the night.

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You may learn something along the way. Is it a deal?” she asked. She stuck her hand out to shake in testament to the sealing of the pact.

  Without knowing what he was doing, Grange stuck his hand out and grabbed hers, then was surprised by the extremely strong grip she provided, and by something else, some current that seemed to flow between them as they agreed on the terms she had laid out.

  “I’m going to rest now. Wake me up when it’s my turn to drive the wagon,” she told him, then leaned against him without forewarning, laid her head on his shoulder, and shut her eyes.

  Grange sat woodenly upright, astonished by the inexplicable appearance of the lovely girl. He barely remembered her working in the cider barn, and had never spoken to her, yet she was now resting beside him. He covertly examined her again; she had no demon visible upon her, he was relieved to see, though being possessed by a demon would have at least offered an explanation for why she was there with him.

  The thought of demons jarred his thoughts.

  Why did that demon come looking for me last night? He silently asked the jewels.

  You are the one who will fight them. They are coming to realize that, one jewel’s voice replied. It spoke with a crispness and clarity that was far more mentally audible that the previous conversations had revealed. Grange looked around quickly for some evidence that the tiny bodies of the jewels might be flying close to his head, but saw no sign of them.

  Why do they think I’ll fight them? There are other men, men who really know how to fight. The demons should pick on them, not me, Grange protested.

  You are different. You have the sight, the ability to see the demons. That makes you able to fight them, so they fear that you may become effective and dangerous. We have to pray and hope so, the jewel told him, a note of resignation in the last few words.

  Why I can I see them? He asked.

  You were born at the stroke of midnight, on midwinter’s night, the longest night of the year. You have a special status, the ability to see demons and the powers of darkness, the jewel spoke patiently. But the power only has become evident as you have begun to change from a boy to a man.

  How do you know I was born at midnight? He asked in astonishment.

  Because you can see demons, the jewel answered in an exasperated tone. How do you know I am a jewel? Because I am a hard, shiny, brilliantly colored stone. The thing defines itself.

  Because I can see demons, the demons want to kill me, because they think I will fight them, he sought confirmation. And because I can see demons, you want to help me, because you think I will fight the demons.

  This is correct. Thank the gods you finally understand, there was a note of relief in the jewel’s voice.

  What if I just want to be left alone? What if I just go away somewhere and stay out of this whole fight? You and the demons can fight each other without me, he suggested.

  You will not stay out of this! There was such force and anger in the words that Grange whimpered and placed his hand on his forehead, feeling pain.

  There is no staying out of this; don’t you understand? The barrier to the darkness is weakening. This is the time when the demons can come forth. There will be an army of demons, seeking to weaken the goodness of humanity in this world, so that their dark lord can come forth and take dominion.

  If you do not fight the demons, they will take over the world, and every place in it. There will be no safe place for you, only the guarantee of eventual torment by the great evil that awaits. You, and every other person and spirit and force in the world will spend the next eon in a tortured state of existence, the jewel declaimed passionately.

  It was a paralyzing prospect, one that the jewel enforced by projecting visions and feeling of terror and pain and torture into Grange, showing him the consequences of failing to act.

  You want me to fight all of that? All by myself? Just you and me? I’m not even a fighter! He protested less sincerely now, convinced of the rightness of the cause, but aware of his own severe limitations.

  There are others who will be your friends and allies and unexpected supporters, even lovers, the jewel told him. There will be a god. And you will learn to fight. You must. You must take advantage of every opportunity while there is time.

  There is not much time, a couple of years at most. You must not fail. You must be driven to succeed or all the world will be punished, the inte
nsity of the jewel was frightening, and Grange shivered in fear at the visions he was exposed to.

  And then the sense of uncertainty and resistance and fear disappeared. If it was his fate to fight the battle, if he had truly been singled out only by the simple stroke of fate of being born at the wrong moment, he would accept the challenge, as unprepared and unfit as he felt. He knew deep in his heart that he wasn’t sufficient to meet such an overwhelming responsibility, that trying to fight demons would have to eventually lead to his death. But the visions the jewel had shared showed him that if he didn’t fight, death would come after him anyway, and would be worse than what he might suffer in a battle.

  That’s better, but don’t be so glum. You will not be alone, I promise, the jewel tried to assuage his fears.

  Chapter 8

  They rode along with no further conversation. The girl by his side soon leaned the other way and lay down on the bench, while Garrel started to snore from his space among the freight in the back. The horses placidly walked on in the wake of the other wagons, while Grange held the reins loosely and drifted between sleep and wakefulness. Sometimes he saw the wagon ahead and the horses, while other times he dreamt of armies of demons, or the pretty Ariana smiling and talking with him as they rode together in the wagon over endless roads.

  Ariana awoke while the sun was beginning to brighten the eastern sky behind the increasingly distant mountains on the horizon.

  “Can you stop while I go into the woods for a minute?” she asked.

  “Why do you need to go into the woods?” Grange asked through the dim, foggy state of awareness that the night of sleeplessness had left him in.

  “Never you mind. I just need to. Now stop the wagon,” the girl said authoritatively, and Grange immediately complied.

  He let the horses drift to the side of the road, where they began to crop the grasses growing in the narrow strip beneath the open sky, while the girl lithely jumped down and sprinted into the shadows of the forest. The other wagons continued to slowly progress, pulling away from Grange and the others, unaware of the stop. Grange wasn’t worried though, certain that they would catch up quickly, especially since there seemed to be no alternative to staying on the road that had no crossroads or intersections.

  Ariana gave a sudden scream. “Grange! Help me!” she shouted in a terrified voice.

  He sat up straight, a jolt of adrenaline snapping his sleepiness aside. He started to scramble across the wagon bench towards her, when he saw that a gleaming metal sword lay propped where she had rested during the night. He picked the weapon up for whatever use it might bring as he bolted out of the wagon and into the forest.

  “Grange, what’s happening?” he heard Garrel’s voice call from behind him, but he didn’t waste time stopping to explain.

  The forest was dark, the limited light from the sunrise barely penetrating the still thick foliage on the tree branches overhead. After a dozen strides into the forest he paused, looking desperately in all directions as he sought to find Ariana.

  “Grange, help!” she screamed again, her voice coming from straight ahead.

  He dashed forward, holding the sword awkwardly, until he sudden pressed through a tangle of brambles and found Ariana standing behind a tree trunk, a wolf snarling at her on the far side of the tree.

  “I’m here; it’s okay,” he told her, pushing the sword out in front of himself as he rushed to defend her from the fangs of the large gray beast.

  Back in Fortune, Grange had seen men carry swords. Some of the city guards had carried them, and the nobility, as well as the men from the palace, carried them constantly, appearing fearless and lethal with the shining blades of metal gleaming on their hips. But he had never held a sword himself, never even seen one used with intent to cause harm.

  The wolf diverted its attention from Ariana to Grange. He focused intently, crouching lower as he kept the sword in front, and began to cautiously side step away from Ariana, trying to draw the predator’s attention away from the girl.

  “Run back to the wagon Ariana,” he told her, as the wolf’s body turned to keep its face towards him, and he opened up the space between the girl and the animal.

  Be careful, Grange,” she replied.

  He glanced over at her, and the moment he took his eyes off the wolf, it bounded at him, snarling as it launched itself into the air. Grange’s eyes grew wide with fear as he saw fur and fangs and claws flying at him with unmatchable speed. He tried to adjust the sword to intercept the wolf, but the animal was too fast, and knocked the sword free from his grip as it arrived. It struck his chest and knocked him backwards, as he shouted in fear and swung his fist wildly at the wolf.

  He made contact, knocking the jaws of the wolf to the side as they snapped shut in an effort to bite him. He fell to the ground, and the wolf fell on top of him, still snarling angrily. Grange desperately reached upwards and closed his hands around the wolf’s neck, trying to keep it from closing in on him, as he felt the heat of its breath and saw the spark of anger in its eyes, only inches from his own.

  Then suddenly the wolf growled and howled, and then collapsed. A fountain of blood poured over Grange; he felt its warmth on his chest and closed his eyes as it splattered onto his face. He shouted again and shoved his arms upwards, pushing the wolf off of him.

  He sat up instantly, and saw that Ariana stood over him, grimly holding the sword that he had brought, its blade dark with the wolf’s blood.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she said without irony.

  Grange stared up at her blankly, unable to comprehend what had happened. He had gone to rescue her, but had only survived because she had rescued him.

  “Grange?” he heard Garrel’s voice calling from not too far away. He looked around, and saw the wolf’s body, lying on the ground just three feet away. The massive creature looked even larger in death than it had in life.

  Ariana stepped over and wiped the blade on the fur of the carcass, then flipped the sword and wiped the other side.

  “That pelt will make a good blanket. You should bring it along,” she told Grange, then held her hand out to him, offering to help him rise. He reached out to her, astonished to see his hand trembling in the air, until their palms connected with one another, and he felt her steady him as she lifted him to his feet.

  “Grange?” Garrel called again. “Where are you?”

  “On our way,” Grange answered, as he looked Ariana in the face, staring at her intently.

  “Thank you for saving me,” he said at last.

  “I’d say we’re even. It looked like you don’t know how to handle a sword. Would you like me to teach you?” she asked, as she released her grip on his hand and began to walk towards the wagon.

  He bent to pick up the wolf carcass, then grunted and staggered as he tried to lift the heavy weight of the great canine. He shrugged it over his shoulder onto his back, and began to trundle forward, bowed by his load.

  “Hello! Who are you? Ariana? What are you doing here?” Grange heard Garrel go through the stages of recognition and surprise as the girl preceded him out of the forest.

  “Great gods! What happened to you?” Garrel gasped as he saw the blood-soaked Grange appear steps behind the pristine girl. “Are you okay?”

  “A wolf attacked me in the forest, and Grange came to my rescue,” Ariana explained, as Grange trudged past the two and dropped the wolf carcass on the tail end of the wagon, giving a sigh of relief as he unburdened himself of the heavy load.

  “Ariana, where did you come from?” Garrel asked, not taking his eyes off of the girl. The sun was rising, and the fleeting moments of the most golden, warm-tones rays of the morning sunlight were striking the girl, making her look soft and gentle, appealing in both person and spirit. Both boys stared at her, entranced by the enhanced allure the light shed upon her.

  “I climbed on the wagon while Grange was driving last night. I’m running away with him,” she answered. “We ought to remove the pelt right away, while
it’s easiest.”

  “You rode with us all night?” Garrel asked in astonishment. He looked from the girl to Grange for confirmation.

  “She did,” Grange agreed.

  “You two start driving the wagon, and I’ll dress the carcass while we catch up to the others,” she suggested.

  The boys looked at one another, at a loss, then shrugged.

  “Have you slept at all?” Garrel asked Grange. “Why don’t you let me drive, and you can get some rest, or whatever,” he trailed off into an unspoken suggestion, even though he wasn’t sure what he was really trying to suggest.

  “Good idea,” Grange agreed, and they all went to their places in the wagon, then Garrel took the reins in hand and the wagon started rolling along once again.

  Grange settled in among the apples in the back of the wagon bed, close to where Ariana had pulled a knife out of some unseen fold in her clothes. She was slitting the carcass with a deftness that left no doubt about her competence at the task.

  “I found that sword on the wagon bench,” Grange told her as he watched her. “I didn’t remember you carrying it onto the wagon when you climbed on.”

  “It was under my skirt, just like this little beauty,” she held up the wicked-looking knife that she was using to tend to the wolf pelt. “I unloosened it when I lay down, to be more comfortable,” she explained.

  “You get some sleep,” she commanded.

  Grange smiled, happy to comply.

  “Grange, would you like for me to give you lessons on how to use a sword?” she asked again, repeating her earlier question. “My dad showed me, so I know something about what to do with them.”

  “Sure, that would be good,” he agreed sleepily. His exhaustion was catching up with him suddenly.

  “We’ll start tonight, after the apple picking is complete,” she told him, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

  He fell asleep as he heard those words, and wasn’t aware of another thing until the wagon stopped at the next orchard, their destination to begin picking apples again.