Thank you for reading the Crystal Shard
CHAPTER 6
Just One Drop
Western Luvelles—The Head Master’s Island
NOW, FELLOW SOUL … IF YOU DO NOT REMEMBER, the houses that Brayson Id, the Head Master of Luvelles, created for George and his family were based on George’s memories of old Earth. These memories were divulged to the Head Master by Lasidious when the Mischievous One appeared to Brayson as Amar to ask the Head Master to take George as his Mystic Learner.
The homes sat in a circular subdivision, with the outside walls made of a combination of stone, brick and stucco. Of course, there were no streets or sidewalks, but the mound of stones sitting at the center of the clearing between the homes served as a playground for the older children in the family.
Much of the furniture inside the homes was also reminiscent of Earth. There were a few differences, however. Homes on Earth did not have circular platforms near the front door that teleported you wherever you wanted to go inside the house. They also did not have beds that made themselves, food closets where the temperature changed on each occasion the door opened or lights that illuminated from no apparent source. Finally, the homes on Earth were not alive. The walls did not carry a pulse from funneling magic throughout hidden veins that existed beneath their surfaces.
Western Luvelles
The Northern Shore of the Head Master’s Island
Early Bailem
“Garesh! I’m dreading this damn meeting,” George said as he stood from the kitchen table and walked to the food closet.
Hearing George swear, Payne hit the top of his high chair on either side of his plate and shouted. “Damn meeting! Garesh!”
Athena glared at George.
The warlock shrugged. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, babe.” He looked at Payne. “Watch your mouth.”
Turning back to the food closet, George opened the door and looked in. “Sam isn’t going to take the news very well. Shalee’s soul has obviously been swallowed. Five Peaks have passed since she entered the Eye.”
Brayson lowered the vial filled with his potion to bind Garrin’s power and watched as the toddler grimaced. After wiping the baby’s chin, the Head Master returned to his chair and added, “The King of Brandor is strong. As tragic as this news is, I wouldn’t worry about his reaction. Sam will accept the loss of his queen and lead his people with honor.”
Athena wiped a piece of greggled hash from the corner of her mouth. “Still, Sam will be heartbroken.” She looked at George as he shut the food closet and carried the corgan milk back to the table. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if you didn’t come home to me.”
“I agree with Athena,” Mary added. She reached to her right and collected Payne’s empty plate. As she stacked it on top of her own, she continued to speak while she reached for Garrin and Joshua’s plates that were sitting on their high chairs behind her. “I’m sure Sam will present a strong face … but he’ll mourn.”
Susanne cut in, “I saw the way Sam looked at Shalee when we feasted with them in Brandor.”
Swallowing his bite of scrambled vestle chick eggs, Gregory added, “At best, we’re guessing as to the king’s reaction.” He looked at George. “Perhaps you should get it over with.”
George nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah … I know. I hate delivering bad news. It sucks ass.”
Athena slapped George on the forearm. “Don’t you dare speak another ill word. I told you to stop speaking like that around the children. Since you stood from this table, you’ve ignored my rules twice.”
Mary reached out with her right arm and put her hand on Athena’s shoulder. “You tell him, daughter.”
Instead of reacting to Athena’s chastisement, George looked across the table at Brayson. He rolled his eyes and then grinned before he lifted his mug to his mouth and swallowed his last drink of corgan milk. After lowering the cup to the table, the warlock shrugged. “Well … the moment has come for me to get ready.” He leaned to his right to kiss Athena.
After a quick peck, Athena grabbed the red collar of George’s black tunic and looked him in the eye. A sly smile appeared on her face. “Don’t think this conversation is over, Mr. Nailer. Make sure that mouth of yours remains clean around these children from now on. Do you understand me?”
George reached out with his left hand and cupped his wife’s chin. “You’re so hot when you’re rough with me.”
Before Athena could respond, the warlock vanished. She turned to her right and looked at Susanne who now held baby Garrin in her arms and was wiping his face. “I love it when he does that.”
Mary reacted by grabbing Brayson by the collar of his red robe. She pulled him close. “I second that. You magic men are intoxicating.” She then nibbled the Head Master’s right ear lobe. “Mesolliff wine may be in order tonight, my love.”
Watching his brother’s eyes widen, Gregory looked toward Susanne to see what her response would be. Instead of receiving the playful response he desired, he watched as Garrin started to grunt. The White Chancellor’s nose crinkled at the pungent smell that followed. “Somehow … that’s not what I expected.”
Susanne grinned as she handed the baby to Gregory. “Let’s see how sexy a magic man can be when he changes a messy diaper. Perhaps a kiss will follow.”
Gregory snapped his fingers and a fresh diaper appeared on Garrin. “There. It’s done.”
Susanne smiled. “Now that deserves more than a kiss.” She removed Garrin from Gregory’s arms and handed the baby to Mary. “We’ll be back.” Grabbing Gregory by the hand, they walked into the next room.
Meanwhile, Western Luvelles
The Kingdom of Lavan
The Grassy Plains of the
Battlegrounds of Olis
Now, fellow soul … the foundation of Kepler’s palace was finished, but the materials to form the outer walls had only recently arrived from Trollcom. After speaking with Lasidious during yet another dream the night after Shalee’s entrapment in the Eye, George spoke with Kepler about the design of the structure. The demon-cat had stopped its creation long enough to implement Lasidious’ suggestions. The Mischievous One had told George about a special ore that was mined by enslaved dwarves on Trollcom. He said the metal possessed regenerative properties, and it had the ability to rejuvenate one’s magical foundation over a shorter series of moments. As a result, Kepler and George would be able to recuperate much faster after a heavy Peak’s use of power.
Boyafed pushed Lord Dowd’s wheeled chair up the ramp to the top of a platform that overlooked the site of Kepler’s unfinished palace. After setting the brake, the Dark Chancellor folded back the collar of a black trench coat that George that created for him. He remembered the young warlock saying, “Boyafed, you need a cooler look.” He smiled at the memory and enjoyed the oddness of the statement.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Boyafed looked down and shouted at the lead creator who was standing on the ground at the base of the platform he and Dowd were on. “Taugor … you better get this right! The ore cannot be replaced. The council of neither kingdom can afford a mistake.”
Taugor turned and looked up. He pushed his hair clear of his face and signaled his receipt of the message with a wave of his hand. After receiving the go-ahead from Lord Dowd, the lanky elf strolled across the clearing and climbed to the top of a circular pedestal that sat 25 paces above the ground. Removing his shoes, he placed his bare feet into a shallow pool of water at its center. Once confident in his footing, he removed his shirt and signaled Dowd and Boyafed that he was ready to begin. A moment later, he wrapped his shirt around his shoes and allowed them to fall to the ground.
Three elves, all without shirts and shoes walked up to the base of the pedestal and encircled it. They placed their hands on metal rods that ran up and through the pedestal to the pool.
Once Taugor had received a nod from each, he began swirling his arms in a circular motion. The elves on the ground began to chant, and a long series of mo
ments passed before their hands began to glow. The energy from their magic ran up the metal rods to the pool of water and caused it to bubble. As a result, Taugor’s magic was amplified three-fold.
The massive piles of ore that sat more than 100 paces to the right of the tower that Boyafed and Dowd were standing on began to stir. The top of the first mound segregated itself from the rest and floated across the grass toward the foundation of Kepler’s palace. As it did, an infrastructure of beams with holes at their centers formed. Once above the foundation, they assembled and lowered into place.
Next, though still sizable, a much smaller mound of ore lifted from the pile and began its approach toward the framing. As it did, the metal reshaped into long strands of hollow wire and worked its way through the holes in the beams until the veining was complete.
Third, the rest of the mound lifted off the ground and molded into large sheets. One by one, they attached themselves to the outside of the framing until the structure was sealed on all sides.
With the outside covered, the network of veins doubled back along the inside of the structure and worked their way toward the rear of the palace. They slithered up the back wall and attached to a number of cylinders that would later be joined with an enormous heart that would be created out of more than 200 hearts harvested from slaughtered corgans.
Clapping his hands, Dowd shouted, “Remarkable work, Taugor!” The new King of Lavan extended his right arm and used his magic to lift the tired elf off the top of the platform. After setting the lead creator on the ground, Dowd released his magic and allowed the elves surrounding the pedestal to catch him when Taugor collapsed.
Dowd looked up at Boyafed. “When do the hides and muscle of the corgans arrive?”
“Six Peaks,” the Dark Chancellor responded. “For now, they remain frozen in Froland.”
The king cringed. “You could’ve chosen another name.”
Boyafed released the brake of Dowd’s wheeled chair with his foot and then patted his friend on his right shoulder. “I renamed the city to honor our friendship. Does this not please you, Henry Froland Dowd?”
“You jab at my expense, Boyafed. Perhaps, some Peak, we will need to have our fight after all.”
Boyafed grinned. “You will have to learn to roll quickly if that’s going to happen.” The Dark Chancellor then directed Dowd’s wheelchair to the top of the ramp. As they began their descent, he changed the subject. “The jaguar’s taste is exotic, is it not? Materials continue to arrive on Merchant Island Peakly. I long to see the completion of the structure.”
Dowd smirked. “I sense the cat’s taste resembles that of the prophet’s. Perhaps I should teach Kepler how to garden.”
Boyafed chuckled. “Where did that come from? Ha! The sight of a predator gardening. How tragic.”
Dowd’s brows furrowed. “Gardening can be peaceful. I should take you to my old home in Inspiration. Cultivating is not just for women and servants, you know.”
Boyafed patted Dowd on his shoulder again. “Sure, it isn’t. You keep telling yourself that.”
Meanwhile, Ancients Sovereign
Gabriel’s Hall of Judgment
Lasidious stood from the heavy, stone table to address the gods. “How wonderful it is to see you all again. My influence continues to grow Peakly, and soon I shall have the power to control the Book.” The Mischievous One stopped talking. He looked down the table at Gabriel who was hovering above it and grinned. “My apologies, Gabriel. I shouldn’t have called you a book.”
Without waiting for Gabriel to respond, Lasidious continued as he scanned the faces of the others. “Anyway, as I was saying...” He paused again and looked deeply into the eyes of Gabriel. “Soon, I shall control the Book, and this collective will be forced to live by my laws and not the laws written on its useless pages.”
Mieonus stomped the lifted heel of her right shoe and leaned forward. “Your arrogance is thick enough to cut with a knife. There are those of us on this Collective who plot against you. Your Peaks as The Almighty will never come to pass.”
Murmurs filled the room as Celestria stood and started to circle the table. The Goddess of Beasts held the Goddess of Hate’s eyes as she responded. “Yet, there are those of us, Mieonus, who desire an Almighty. I’d gladly sit at Lasidious’ side and worship him for eternity.” Stopping next to her lover, Celestria caressed Lasidious’ face. “Is that not right, my pet?”
Feigning his irritation, Alistar slapped his right hand on the table. “Save your dramatics for the theatre, Celestria. You put too much faith in your pet prophet. George will only be able to spread Lasidious’ supposed good word so far.”
The God of the Harvest stood and circled the table as well. As he did, he touched each of the gods on the shoulder as he passed. “Soon, George will be faced with a dilemma … one that will consume his moments. He won’t be able to deceive the worlds into misplaced worship.” Alistar stopped on the other side of Lasidious. He reached up and caressed the Mischievous One’s cheek just as Celestria had done. “How does this news make you feel, my pet … my cute, little devil-god?” He spit on the floor. “I may vomit.”
As Celestria stormed back to her chair, Mieonus rolled with laughter and pounded her lifted heels against the floor to punctuate her enjoyment of the moment. “Oh, my dear Alistar, we must converse upon the completion of this meeting. I desperately desire to know your scheming.”
Kesdelain looked across the table at Hosseff and then turned to his right to nudge Owain with his elbow. “Must every meeting exude such hatred?”
Hearing the troll-god’s comment, Sharvesa spoke out. “Yes, do tell, Hosseff.”
A hissing laughter emanated from the nothingness beneath Hosseff’s hood. The sound caused all the gods to pause and look in his direction. The God of Death pulled back his hood and allowed his face to materialize. “The scheming of this collective, filled with ruthless, devious, malicious power seekers, should be cherished. What fun would immortality be without the games we play?”
Sharvesa sat back in her chair and lowered her head. “If I would’ve understood the truth of the gods prior to my ascension, I would’ve chosen to remain on Dragonia. I care not for the hate of my peers.” The demon-goddess looked down the length of the table at Lasidious. “With respect, if I would’ve understood the depravity of your heart, the races of demons would not have served you when I was queen. My only consolation is that my people have now abandoned their service to you and have begun anew. My daughter has seen to it that all demons speak my name in their prayers.”
Sharvesa moved behind her chair. Her yellow gown swayed and contrasted gloriously against the red of her skin as she pushed the chair under the table. She looked at the Book of Immortality. “Gabriel, I must excuse myself from this meeting. I’m feeling sick.”
Before the Book could respond, Lasidious vanished and reappeared next to Sharvesa. He reached out and placed his hand on her forearm. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why this meeting was called? After all, a decision was made seasons ago that will effect your homeworld.”
Without moving her head, the orange surrounding the yellow irises of the demon’s eyes filled her sockets as she looked to her left. “I’m listening.”
Vanishing again, Lasidious appeared in his seat with his feet resting on top of the table. He leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. “I thought you’d say that. This collective has convened to announce the moments are right for Dragonia to become the new Hell. As per Gabriel’s judgment, the darkest souls within his pages are to be released. They shall wander the territories of your old homeworld by the end of the Peak, 7 Peaks from now. They will survive inside temporary bodies that cannot perish. They’ll feel pain, fear, sadness, anger and remorse for the sins they committed during their lives, and it won’t matter what world they committed them on ... they will suffer.”
The Mischievous One crossed his arms. “With the dragons removed, the criminals who were banished to live out the rest of
their Peaks on Dragonia will be free to do as they please. Because of this, a new hierarchy will form, and the most ruthless of these degenerates will rule. They’ll murder, slaughter, burn, rape and pillage not only those who occupy Dragonia but also those who will be cast upon it who cannot die. The souls released from Gabriel’s pages will be forced to suffer. They may even fight back in an effort to avoid reliving the experience again and again. Everyone on your old homeworld will endure this living Hell until they, too, pass to join the ranks of the damned.”
Sharvesa reached up and grabbed the horns that rolled over the top of her head. The red in her knuckles displaced as she squeezed. “And what of my people? Shall all demons suffer, or will they be moved to some other world?”
Lasidious chuckled. “Your people were created for a different calling. You have no memory of your past, but you were once used to administer pain and torment for the mightiest of all governors who ruled a Hades that no longer exists. You were—”
The demon-goddess cut Lasidious off. “My kind will do no such thing. They exist in harmony on Dragonia. They won’t do the bidding of this collective or any being who is chosen to govern the Hell that Dragonia is to become. I’ll see to that.”
Lasidious chuckled again. “Your people will accept their fate, because if they don’t, they’ll perish as a result of their inability to adapt. Your kind will have no choice but to resume the true purpose for which they were created, or they will quickly join the ranks of the damned.”
The demon-goddess scanned the faces of the others. Her eyes stopped on the Book of Immortality. “Is this wickedness true, Gabriel? Did my people once exist as foot soldiers for an ultimate evil? Were we once servants of a cause that we couldn’t control?”
The Book floated across the room and stopped eye-level with Sharvesa. Remorse filled his expression. “What Lasidious said is the truth.” The Book sighed. “When I was created, it was understood that all races of demons would once again resume their function once the dragons were given their new homeworld. Though you cannot remember the ways of old, you existed to torture and do the bidding of one who has long since perished. There are members of this collective who believe the demons should resume this charge.”
The Tear of Gramal Page 14