by Zax Vagen
“Well then.” said Jem as he waved his finger in front of his face. “Never lose those stones.”
A chill ran down Thist’s spine as he considered the whereabouts of the rage stone. It was still on the beach and it probably glowed at night, if it was still there.
“Don’t you think it would be wise to consider what you imbue with magic before you do?” said Jem. “What is the stone of power anyway, what does it do and can anybody use it?”
“I don’t think anybody can use it,” said Thist “but I would be sad if I lost it. As for what it does, it gives me more power.”
“That is scary.” said Jem. “You don’t need more power. You’re not turning into a monster are you?”
“I’m not turning into a monster, but if I was? What would we do?” asked Thist.
“Thist, you have to think about what you do with your power from now on.” implored Jem. “And please, don’t become evil.”
“Sure.” said Thist. “I will, and thank you for the good advice.”
Thist toed the pile of items on the floor and picked up a beautifully crafted dagger. He looked it over, nodded and left the tent.
Jem watched Thist the whole time. An ominous chill came over him as he thought about his most dear friend.
Thist took the small bundle of items and laid them by the fire. He walked over to the edge of the canyon where they had crossed some days ago and stared at the profound distance. He longed for home and for his own carefree solitude that he had enjoyed there. He longed for the company of Tayah, Kaylah, Jem and the friends that made up the small community. He longed for the jokes that they had made of him and with him when he was a ‘nobody’. He longed for his lorikeets and the unique sounds that they made but most of all he longed for Tayah. “How are you Tayah?” he said as if she were there by his side. “Look at this beautiful canyon.”
There was no response, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in a soul stone and she wasn’t a voice in his head. “How are my lorikeets?”
It was just a few days ago when one of his lorikeets had been there at the canyon and kept him company but it had flown away. Thist wondered where it had gone after finding him in such an unlikely place. “How did it know to come here? And where did it go when it left?”
Thist abandoned his daydreaming and focused on the task at hand. He returned to his small fire. It wasn’t hot enough to melt silver or gold but it would soften a little. Using a small hammer from the tavern shed, he fashioned some of the items into arrow heads. Thist held each completed item onto the stone of power while it was still hot and enchanted them while drawing power from the stone.
Normally Thist would have been exhausted from imbuing one item or nearly comatose from doing two, but he had adapted. Instead of using his own life essence as magical energy, he drew energy from the stone of power, now cold and throbbing with the anger of a thousand bolts of lightning.
Thist sat by the fire. He considered the folly of the world as it was and yearned for understanding. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. “Why do I have to fight a dragon for some kind of thing?” he said.
“We all have our dragons.” said a voice, “You just have a real one.”
“It’s not my dragon.” said Thist “It’s everyone’s dragon. Why must I slay it?”
“I cannot say, when you face it you will know what to do.”
“I feel unprepared, what must I do to prepare?”
“You must slay your own dragons first.”
“What?” asked Thist.
“Your own dragons!” said the voice, “They eat at your soul. You cannot go into battle against the dragons of this world if you have un-slain dragons in your heart.”
“Who are you?” said Thist, “show yourself!”
Thist was tiring of the voices that used his mind as a conduit. He wanted to ask their advice without soliciting riddles. “What un-slain dragons in my heart? What do you speak of?”
“There are things in this world that hold you back, because you are scared. You are scared that someone will see you and you are scared that someone will expose you or point you out for something. There are things that you have done or wished that you had not done, or finished or never started. Those unfinished things and those unchangeable actions are like dragons in your soul that hold you back and prevent you from becoming the greatest person that ever lived. You have to vanquish those dragons by either fixing the things that you can fix or accepting the things that you cannot fix to the point of indifference.”
“To the point of indifference.” said Thist exasperated. “What does that mean?”
“To accept something so completely that you could not even care to dwell on it ever again,” said the voice, “then you forget that the problem ever existed.”
“What do you know of my soul dragons?”
“Your dragons are in your dreams. If something is so big and so important in your life that it scares you, or if you long for it so completely, then you dream about it. And if you dream about it then it will wake you and you will cry about it. That is a soul dragon.”
“How will I know if I have vanquished all my dragons?”
“Only when you sleep without dreaming will you know that you have vanquished your soul dragons.”
“How can I tell the difference between a soul dragon and a real dragon?”
“Thist.” said the voice with emphasis. “When you see a real dragon, you will know.”
“Go.” said Thist. “I need to be alone and free of your nagging for now.”
The voices were still and he daydreamed back to the tranquil village where he and Jem had grown up. He couldn’t remember how long ago it was when they left; a month, six weeks. It seemed that he had lived and grown more since he had been travelling than the rest of his life together. He felt different and strong. He looked at the swinging rope over the canyon. “You nearly had me.” said Thist.
He packed up the items in a small sack and put a pot of water on the campfire for tea and cooking. No sooner had he done it when he saw Kelvin carrying in some half plucked fowl. “Good hunting Kelvin?”
“Yes.” said Kelvin “What have you been doing?”
“Preparing for a fight.” said Thist. “Here I made some special things for you. They are imbued.”
Thist handed Kelvin the small sack of arrow heads, crafted from silver and gold. Kelvin scooped a handful and looked at the shiny arrow heads. “You imbued them all?” said Kelvin.
“Sure.” said Thist.
“What with?” said Kelvin.
“Super magic,” said Thist, “you will like them.”
“Why did you make them out of our silver and gold?”
“Simple,” said Thist with a broad grin. “It’s only the heads that are imbued and they are made of silver and gold.”
Kelvin shook his head. “So?”
“So.” said Thist. “The enemy soldiers will only fire them back after they have removed the heads. Only the three of us know that the heads are the magic part.”
Kelvin pursed his lips and nodded as he looked at the arrow heads. “That’s clever Thist. A greedy adversary will cripple himself, but what about a loyal adversary?”
“I think that the guards in the castle are either mercenaries or pressed.” said Thist.
“What makes you think that?”
“Simple, if they knew the truth and cared about what they were guarding, then they would not guard it.” said Thist. “They either don’t know or don’t care. It’s a dragon’s lair guarded by mercenaries.”
“That is a bold assumption,” said Kelvin as he shouldered the sack of arrow heads, “but if it is correct then we have a better chance.”
“Why?” asked Thist.
“Mercenaries are easy to scare off.” said Kelvin, “Let’s go and talk to Jem.”
Jem was standing on the far side of the old tent with a horrid look on his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Thist as he and Kelvin approached.
> “It’s the smell.” said Jem “I cannot take it anymore. It’s that ghastly dead fall cheese these people eat. What is wrong with them?”
Thist nodded his head. “Yes, it is rank. But less of them, what is your plan for the first attack tomorrow?”
“With your help.” said Jem. “They will never see it coming”
“Sure I will help.” said Thist as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Jem looked at Thist as if he was a moron. “I’m building a massive trebuchet in the forest of wisps.”
Thist leaned back and glanced into the small tent were a few metal items were lying on the floor of the tent. Not more than a single man can carry. “No.” said Thist. “It’s not obvious that you are doing that.”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” said Jem.
Thist recalled the last time that Jem had said that to him, back in the forest in their home town, when they were out collecting hum.
“Then what do you need help with?” said Thist.
Kelvin excused himself. “I have arrows to fletch.” and disappeared into the shrubs beyond the camp perimeter. He had left the plucked fowls to boil.
Jem took Thist into the old tent and showed him the items on the floor. “Just imbue this one item for me if you can. Then I can do the trebuchet on my own in half a day.”
Thist agreed to do what Jem had requested. “You know what I think I should do Jem?”
“Spit it out please.” said Jem.
“I should just walk into the castle and lash everyone with my whip.”
Jem laughed. “Imagine that.”
Thist picked up the item that Jem had singled out. “It’s a long coil of wire with tiny spikes.”
“Yes.” said Jem.
“What does it do?”
“It cuts wood.”
“What kind of abilities do you want me to imbue it with?”
“I will leave that to your discretion, what I need is a final outcome. I need to cut one of those massive trees as quickly as I can, in minutes not days.”
“That will be easy.” said Thist.
53
The hagget retched.
The potion that it had made for itself was wearing thin. The form that it had taken was wavering and would not last longer than ninety nine days if it was well prepared. Something was wrong with the mixture and it was wearing off far too soon. Time was against it. It had waited a thousand years for the perfect opportunity to execute its plan and now that the final hour was looming it had only minutes. The hagget shrieked. “Damn you. Damn you. Why was I struck with this cursed affliction? Why?”
Tears of acid rolled down its cheeks that stung the form that it had conjured, threatening to ruin its appearance. It rinsed its face in water over and over as it wept. A thousand years of sorrow, grief, anger, hatred and pain racked its barely living body. It needed one thing in the world and that one thing was all that mattered to it. “This wretched world can be damned and all the useless people in it can burn,” It sobbed as it rinsed its face over and over. “I will have my last will and I will make it come to pass before I exhale the last of my foul and rotting breath.”
It reached into its pouch and fumbled a small vile of potion to its quivering lips. It made sure not to spill a drop, as it was the last resort. There would be no second chances and no going back. It was too close to the end of its own quest to make alternate plans. The hagget swallowed “A thousand years, a million failures, but not anymore.” It could feel the power of a horse surge through its body and the glow of youthful beauty and vigour coursed its veins. Its cheeks glowed with energy and its eyes sparkled with verve. “Now… let us finish the job.” It glanced to the sunset, “Three more days, or two if those stupid boys can…” Its voice trailed off. There was no more time left to speculate on ifs or buts. The hagget had to press on and accomplish its goal or die trying.
“Just finish the job.” It lamented itself.
54
Kelvin wiped his face.
The arrow heads that Thist had made were easy to fletch. They were the right shape and seemed to obey his will, as if they knew their place. He still found the task of fletching arrows to be a chore. Spending ten minutes to fletch one arrow and half a second to shoot it away and miss was heartbreaking, even though Thist’s imbued arrows had never missed.
Kelvin wondered how Thist was doing it all; holding up against the voices in his head, and learning a lost art of magic. “Are the voices helping him?” thought Kelvin. “They must be.”
He finished fletching his arrows and then washed himself in the stream before starting back. The sun was setting and the campfires were warm and inviting. As he approached their own tent he saw Jem and Thist sitting around the campfire like good old friends. “Supper ready yet chaps?” asked Kelvin as he approached.
“Sure.” said Jem “Thist and I were discussing how, since you have had that bow, we have eaten a lot of fowl meat.”
The three of them laughed together as Thist handed Kelvin a cup of ale. “This is good stuff.” said Thist.
The three young men sat around the campfire and enjoyed good food and ale as they discussed their bold plans for the siege.
They set out at first light, each carrying what they would need for the first attack on the castle. Kelvin peeled around to the left of the castle to find a vantage point within bow range of the gate. Jem went to the forest to set up a new trebuchet and Thist went straight down the middle to the gate. Thist stood in the road leading up to the gate. His coat and his hair flapped in the breeze. He held a staff in his right hand, his whip on his belt and a sack slung over his shoulder. He stood just out of bowshot range from the battlement and waited. He knew that he would be ignored for the whole day if nothing happened but he also knew that ‘nothing’ wasn’t going to happen.
The sun crested the mountain peak and illuminated the valley where he stood. He could see slight movements on the battlement high up on the castle walls. As the sun shone down on Thist’s face, he could feel the heat bleeding away the cold. An hour passed, then two. A long time after Thist had become bored, two guards walked out to meet him. “Well met fellows.” said Thist politely. “Stop right there.”
The guards said nothing and advanced on Thist. At the blatant disobedience of the guards, he put his hand up and commanded them to stop. It was a signal. Seventy-one arrows landed hard into the pavement in front of the guards with alarming clarity of purpose. “I command an invisible army, gentlemen. I suggest that you do as I say.”
The single imbued arrow that Kelvin had landed at the guards’ feet had spawned seventy mirrored illusions, giving the impression that a massive group of archers were watching over Thist.
The guards were riveted with fear and disbelief. They had been instructed to fetch the vagrant on the path and to bring him in for flogging and labour. The first guard stammered for his words. “M-m-may I i-inquire as to the p-purpose of your visit, sir?”
“Tell your master’s master that I have come for the bridge.” said Thist. “And please hand him this sealed brief of terms.” Thist handed the guard that had spoken a folded parchment with a wax seal. “Make sure that he gets it.”
The guard took the note while looking over Thist’s shoulder to see if he could glimpse a single bowman. But he could not. The two guards backed away and returned to the castle.
Thist retreated to a comfortable and hidden vantage point and waited for an hour after high noon.
Jem worked frantically to get his trebuchet in place. He had decided that his deadline was farcical, but he also knew from previous experience that the solutions will come to him as fast as the problems arose. “Building a giant trebuchet on my own, in a morning, why am I such an idiot?”
Jem hated the ancient forest. The forest wisps had gathered and were crooning like meerkats, taunting him as he worked. He could feel prickles on his neck every time he heard them and tried to calm himself. “Focus Jem, focus.” he said to himself. He had asked
three of the men in the tent village to help him carry his supplies to the forest and was grateful that they had obliged. But they ran back to the village at the first glimpse of the wisps, leaving Jem with an untidy pile of ropes and equipment in one place.
First Jem had to find a dead tree or risk being lynched by the forest wisps. Then he had to climb up the tree and cut off the top at just the right height, this was the easy part. The cutting wire that Thist had imbued worked like a dream, slicing through the wood like a sword though water. “Finally, some good luck.” said Jem.
Jem sliced all the branches off as he climbed back down, but when he reached the bottom he was horrified to find himself standing on a mountain of branches.
“Stupid villagers!” he cursed, as he thought of the three that were supposed to help him for the day. Jem fretted about it for a moment and then decided that it was unnecessary to clear them all away. Only the bed where the shot had to slide needed to be clear; two paces wide and two hundred paces long. As Jem began to clear the centre slide out he realized the magnitude of the problem. The fallen branches were too numerous and were interlocked like a woven basket. He would have to think up a radical solution or miss his deadline. Jem looked up. “An hour after noon?” he said to himself. “I have about three hours left, probably less.”
Jem shut his eyes as he pondered the problem. Nothing came to him and he started to bite his bottom lip in anguish. “Go on.” He motivated himself, “Do what you can.”
Jem grabbed the end of a long rope, tied it to his waist and started to climb the tree again. When he reached a designated mark on the trunk, just eight or ten paces above the ground, he hoisted a bag of pulleys to where he clung to the tree trunk. The pulleys were already strung with rope, over and under many times and were powerful enough to lift two horses. He had attached the top pulley to the tree and the bottom pulley to his waist belt and used it like a friction block to slide down the tree and lengthen the distance between the top and bottom pulley. “Nice.” said Jem to himself.