The God-Stone War m-4

by Michael G. Manning

  The enchanted steel ‘box’ now seemed like a small thing, enclosed and resting within me. It hadn’t been included within my new self-image, and consequently felt something like a foreign body embedded in my flesh. Flexing, I shifted the bedrock surrounding the steel chamber and began moving it upward, toward the sky. The underground halls and tunnels that we had entered through collapsed as the earth heaved and if I had been still in my normal frame of mind I might have been glad that Dorian was no longer within them. As it was, he was merely an afterthought for me now.

  As I lifted it, I also applied a downward pressure on one side, attempting to create shear forces strong enough to crack the enchanted room. It resisted at first, but the enormous stress created was too much, and the steel cracked along the seams on one side, releasing a small explosion of magical force, as the enchantment failed. Careful to avoid damaging it further, I shifted the earth and stone above it aside and gently lifted the shattered steel chamber toward the sun.

  Once it was there, I brought up the granite sphere that contained my human body, opening the stone to show it to the sky as well. The most difficult part was next, but I managed to remember it, barely. Focusing upon the human resting on the ground above me, I began the difficult task of compressing and reducing myself, trying to become something less than I was. It was uncomfortable, almost painful, and for a moment I almost rebelled at the idea. Deep within though, some small part of me was insisting… let go, return to what you were.

  And then, as simply as that… I did. Opening my eyes I sat up and blinked at the bright sunlight. Dorian was scrambling toward me, not quite able to run across the broken and uneven terrain.

  “Are you alright?” he yelled, in a worried tone.

  I nodded. “Yes, things worked out more or less as I intended.”

  “As you intended?” he said incredulously, and in a voice that was a few decibels louder than I thought was strictly necessary.

  “I’m right here. No need to yell.”

  “You were underground in the middle of a damned earthquake!” he shouted at full volume. “And this is what it sounds like when I’m yelling! Can you tell the difference now?!”

  I stood up and gave him my best ‘calm down’ look. “For a fellow who spends his days hunting undead monsters, you are remarkably prone to overly dramatic expressiveness,” I told him.

  He opened his mouth for a moment and then shut it again. He then repeated that action a time or two before finally replying, “I’ve gotten somewhat used to that, but every time we go somewhere you manage to find a way to push the boundaries far beyond my comfort zone.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I thought you knew what to expect when I told you to move so far out. I forgot you were mostly unconscious when I fought Celior, weren’t you?”

  “It wasn’t one of my best days,” he agreed.

  I gave him a sympathetic look before clapping him upon the shoulder, “Let’s go see what we’ve uncovered.”

  The steel chamber was lying some thirty yards away, shining in the sun. It had cracked open fully along one side, causing one wall to split away, and allowing a large amount of loose dirt to enter the long sealed interior. The enchantment had dissipated once the integrity of the steel structure had been breached. Stepping through the wide opening, I used my magic to clear away loose earth and debris.

  It appeared that the room had once contained a number of marble pedestals, but as to what had rested upon them I could find no trace. The floor had been covered in a heavy red rug, though it had been twisted and torn loose by the upheaval. Only one thing stood out in my magesight, glowing with a gentle magical radiance, a small alabaster figurine. It was small enough to fit easily into the palm of my hand, and it had the appearance of a human nobleman. Even as small as it was, the detail and artisanship were incredible, it was an almost perfect sculpture, and I felt as if I could probably recognize the subject if I were to meet him in person. In fact, the face seemed familiar to some degree.

  I didn’t pick it up immediately, despite its small size, choosing instead to examine it closely first. There was no sign of runes or symbols, and the magic emanating from it had a strange feel to it, giving me the distinct impression that the small statue wasn’t enchanted. Though, for it to still radiate magic after several hundred years without being enchanted, doesn’t make sense, I thought silently. “You must be connected to some other source…,” I said aloud, trying to work through the possibilities.

  That was when I felt it, the rapid approach of something large, living, and radiating with aythar. It was in the air, rushing toward us at incredible speed and coming from the west.

  Dorian was gazing at the miniature statue we had found, his helmet resting on the ground beside him. “Is this all that was in there?” he asked me.

  I was staring toward the west. “Put your helmet back on,” I told him.

  “Why?” he replied, even as he rose to his feet. Despite his question, he was already putting his helmet back in place.

  “We’re about to find out why they call this place ‘Dragon’s Nest’,” I answered.

  “This would be the same dragon you met before?”

  I nodded, “I don’t think there are any others. This place was his home, once.” As I spoke, I used my staff to etch a circle ten foot in diameter around us. Once it was complete, I added a second circle just outside of it and added well placed runes in the space between the two. It was hastily constructed, but it did the job nonetheless. I could create a shield with nothing more than a thought, but it required more energy than if I used words to channel my power… using written symbols made the effort even easier, and added a significant amount of strength.

  Dorian had drawn his sword again, but I put my hand upon his arm, “Put it away. I don’t want to fight him if we can avoid it.”

  “He may not give us that option,” said my friend. As he spoke, I admired his courage; if he ever thought of running, it never showed in his words or actions.

  I shrugged, “If it comes to it, I don’t think you’ll be able to fight him. If something happens to me and you do… you’ll need to cut his head off, he can heal any other wound, given a moment’s respite.”

  There was no more time, for the dragon had arrived, screaming his fury with a rumbling howl that set my teeth on edge and sent cold shivers of fear up my spine. I had intended to hail him, but Gareth Gaelyn, the dragon, spent no time on introductions. Dropping down on us from the sky, he stopped twenty feet above and hovered there, throwing dust and debris in all directions from the thunderous beating of his wings. Opening a mouth full of dagger-like teeth, he sent a raging gout of flame at us.

  The heat and intensity of his breath was incredible, and it incinerated everything around us, beyond the edge of my warded circle. The flames continued to come for what seemed an eternity, but in all probability was only a half a minute. Still they made an impression. Gareth was not a happy dragon.

  The flames went out and I started to yell at him, but he wasted no time, attacking my shield with claws and teeth. It can be quite hard to make oneself heard over the noise of an angry dragon. Lifting my staff, I pointed the heel toward him like a spear, “Do you really want to do this?” I bellowed, using a touch of magic to increase the volume of my voice. “I thought we might talk first.”

  He stopped for a moment, staring at me with draconian eyes. “Your magic does not frighten me, human!” he replied suddenly in a snarling voice. My eyes went wide in surprise, when I had spoken to him before, he had taken a humanoid form first; I hadn’t known he could speak while in his dragon shape.

  “I don’t need to frighten you, but if you want, we can find out how well you do with a hole the size of a melon burned through that scaly body of yours,” I answered. I couldn’t be sure, since I hadn’t ever used my magic directly against him, but there weren’t many things that didn’t develop large holes in them when struck by a channeled line of power from my staff.

  “Robber! Y
ou break into my home and then have the gall to threaten me?!” bellowed the dragon.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “You might have a point there, but I didn’t think you had much use for the trappings of your human life anymore.”

  “Leave!” he roared back.

  “Fine,” I told him, and reaching down I picked up the small figurine. “We’ll just be on our way.”

  The dragon’s eyes had gone wide as I lifted the small statue, his body freezing into stillness. He gazed at the object in my hand with terrible intensity. I paused and then we both stared at one another. After a moment Gareth spoke, “Put that down carefully and leave, and I will forget this insult.”

  By then I knew I had the upper hand, though I wasn’t sure what I had. “You’ve changed your attitude,” I told him. “Are you worried I might break this?” I feigned dropping the small sculptured man.

  “No!” shouted the dragon, so loudly that I worried for the sake of my hearing. “You mustn’t damage it!”

  “Why?”

  The only answer I received was a cold reptilian stare.

  “Fine,” I said at last, “We’ll find out the hard way.” I set the small figurine on a somewhat flat rock and picked up another in one hand, as if I meant to smash it between the two.

  “Stop!” cried the dragon, as he looked on helplessly.

  I held my stone wielding arm high and motionless. “I need to hear two things if you don’t want me to smash your doll,” I said without a hint of humor, “please… and why.” I should have said ‘dolly’, observed my inner voice, but I doubted I could have kept a straight face if I had.

  Gareth stared at me silently for a long half a minute without any indication that he planned to speak. Tired of waiting I shifted and drew back my arm, “Fine, have it your way.”

  “Please,” he said suddenly, in a voice that was soft and desperate compared to before.

  “And?” I insisted.

  “It’s an imprint of my mind… from before,” he answered reluctantly.

  “What does that mean exactly? Are you still linked to it? Would it kill you if it were destroyed?” I said, asking questions in rapid succession.

  “It’s a family secret, a means of restoring the humanity of those who lose themselves in transformation magics. Yes and… in a way,” he answered.

  I had to review my last statement to realize he had answered each of my questions in order. ‘Yes’ he was linked to it and… I gave him a puzzled look, “What do you mean ‘in a way’? That seems like a very simple question to my mind.”

  “Please, I’ve told you enough. I’ll grant you any favor if you simply return my aystrylin and leave me in peace.”

  The proud dragon that Gareth Gaelyn had become was practically begging now, and for a moment I felt a twinge of shame at extorting the wild being, but I couldn’t look away from the opportunity that lay before me. “Answer the question,” I said calmly, “or the toy gets it.”

  He snarled for a moment as a visible wave of anger rippled through his massive scaled body, but then he calmed and answered my question meekly enough, “If the figurine is destroyed, it will perform its designated function in the crudest way possible. The aystrylin will return to me via the link and it will return me, forcibly, to being who I was over a thousand years ago. My memories, my experience, everything that has happened to me since the day that imprint was taken… all of it will be wiped away.”

  “From my perspective that isn’t all that terrible, you are returned to being your original self and the world gains another benevolent archmage. When was the aystrylin made?” I asked, but even as I spoke I realized my words sounded harsh.

  “Several years before Balinthor threatened to destroy the world,” answered the dragon, before continuing, “Think how you would feel if someone threatened to erase, not merely the last few years of your life, but the last millennium. What if you were faced with the possibility of being forced to become an entirely different person? I am happy being what I am now, but break that figurine and you will utterly destroy everything that I am.”

  His words had a certain merit to them, but I still had questions, “You said the ‘crudest way possible’… is there another way to use the aystrylin, one that doesn’t destroy your memories?”

  “That might be the cruelest fate of all,” he replied. “If I were to voluntarily activate the aystrylin’s magic, it would return me to my prior state, but without destroying my memories. The man I was then would have an entirely different view of the events of the past thousand years. He might not wish to live with such knowledge.”

  That reminded me of my own demons. I had wiped out the lives of over thirty thousand men at the conclusion of the war with Gododdin, and that had triggered a wave of sacrifices in the nation itself, as the priests of Mal’goroth murdered the men’s families. There were still nights that I woke sweating at the thought, but I had somehow managed to go on anyway. Even worse, I seemed to be filled with memories of an event that was quite possibly, more horrifying than that, memories so dark that my mind literally refused to look at them.

  Gareth Gaelyn had transformed into a dragon to protect his people from the shiggreth, and instead he had destroyed them along with their enemies. Beyond that, I had no idea what small atrocities he might have committed over the intervening millennium since that day.

  Dorian put a hand on my shoulder, “This isn’t right, Mort.”

  “We can’t let him stay as he is. How many has he killed already?” I argued.

  “None… since the day we met, after your battle with the god, and few before then. I have never had much appetite for men,” answered the dragon earnestly.

  I waved Dorian away before rising to my feet. I had thrown the stone away, but I held the figurine firmly in my hand. “I don’t give a damn, even one is too many. This is my decision: I will keep your aystrylin, until the day you decide of your own will to accept it and return to your humanity.”

  “Never,” interrupted the dragon.

  I held up my hand, “Until then you will live by two requirements. You will harm no humans nor damage their livestock, and you will answer my call and obey whatever commands I give you.”

  “I would gladly give you my word, if you but return the aystrylin to me,” said the dragon.

  “It will remain in my possession to vouchsafe our bargain,” I told him flatly.

  Gareth Gaelyn, dragon and archmage, growled menacingly, “You are a thief!”

  I held my ground, “Ask me if I give a damn! Now, will you meet my demands, or do I have to destroy this thing?”

  A long tense moment passed before he finally lowered his head, “I will obey your commands, under duress. The day you lose sight of my aystrylin I will rip out your heart and feed on your liver.”

  “A finer oath I have rarely heard,” I replied dryly. “I do not need your service today, but if I have need of you, how will I call you?”

  “Merely touch the aystrylin and speak, I will hear you,” he growled.

  “Very well then, you are dismissed, but before you go, you should know one thing,” I said. “You underestimate the strength of the human mind. Your human self could handle a lot more than you give him credit for.”

  “I am in a far better position to judge that theory than you are, master,” he responded with a sneer, and then he leapt from the earth on powerful legs, vaulting into the sky. His wings beat powerfully as he gained altitude, sending a howling storm of air and dirt flying around my shield.

  Watching him go, I slipped the figurine into one of my special pouches before muttering, “No… I really don’t think you are.”

  Chapter 39

  A week had passed since my encounter with Gareth Gaelyn and I found myself still restless. I had gone to explore the Gaelyn ruins in Agradden primarily to assuage my feeling of motionlessness, but I had been fooling myself. The true source of my unease was my continuing avoidance of the darker memories contained inside my head.

  I had spent sev
eral evenings at the Muddy Pig, after the more formal dinner at the castle was finished. Penny hadn’t reproached me on the subject yet, for she usually supported my need for socializing, but I could tell she thought I had spent entirely too many evenings there that week. One or two… that was fine, four or five… and it was apparent I was brooding or possibly depressed.

  Even my newfound drinking companion, the huntsman Chad Grayson, had noticed my darker mood. “Are you going to stare into that empty cup all night?” he asked me acerbically. He almost never bothered using the proper honorifics when addressing me, which suited me just fine.

  “What else should I do with an empty cup?” I asked, in a half-hearted attempt at wit.

  “If you’d let go of it long enough, the barmaid might be persuaded to fill it for you. She keeps watchin’ for the chance, but you’ve not let go of it yet,” he replied blandly.

  Cyhan was sitting on the other side of me and he chose that moment to interject, “That’s your biggest problem half the time.” It was the longest sentence he had offered up all evening, a sure sign that he’d had more to drink than usual.

  I showed him my grumpy face, “I didn’t come down here to have you two catalog my faults.”

  “Didn’t say it was necessarily a fault,” answered the veteran knight, “… just that it was a problem half the time.”

  “Me hanging onto my cup is a frequent problem?”

  Chad spoke then, “Don’t be daft, he means your habit of holding onto everything.”

  Cyhan nodded in agreement.

  “Alright, fine!” I said suddenly, “Maybe you two geniuses can find the answer to my problem.”

  The master huntsman replied, “Better’n you mopin’ about it all the damn time.” Cyhan merely grunted.

  I had already had several cups of wine, or I’d not have been so forthcoming. “I need something, but I can’t see it or look at it directly. I know it’s there, but I can’t grab it with my own two hands.”