Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2)

by Thomas Quinn Miller

  Finngyr slid left and turned into a defensive crouch in case Horth was on the attack again. The flame haired dwarf was down on one knee nursing his thigh and shaking his head at Kjar's misfortune.

  “How is it your nose always finds a way to get hit?” Horth said.

  “Phaw,” was Kjar's only response as he pinched off the bridge of his nose in an attempt to control the bleeding.

  “Your attack was adequate, Knight, but you fell into a rhythm,” Finngyr said.

  “Well, fought, Knight Justice,” Horth said.

  Finngyr grunted and walked to the raised stone edge of the fighting ring. It was one of three such rings that made up the training arena.

  He leaned his sparring hammer against a bench and grabbed a towel. Even this early in the morning, the sun's warmth had Finngyr's wool trousers and broad waist sash damp with sweat. Black curly hair lay flat against his bare chest and back.

  He poured a mug of water from a nearby jug and drank deeply. The water was cool. He didn't notice the page who had filled it. The newest members of the Temple of Justice saw to all the mundane needs and were beneath notice. He wasn't sure if it was the exercise or teaching a couple of beardlings some humility, but Finngyr felt a little better.

  He sat down and watched the two as Horth examined Kjar's nose. A few squires came in and occupied one of the other rings, going through morning ritual stretches.

  Finngyr remembered a time when all the rings would have been full with knights and squires. There were two other practice areas which were converted to other uses long before he was born.

  His sect was in decline and seen as less of a necessity by the Empire. The Knights of the Temple of Justice were only needed to cull the human settlements and keep the forbidden cities' goblin populations under control, which the Empire was seeing more of a religious tradition than the essential need that it was. Only in the Nordlah Plains were humans still in any form of open rebellion. But, there were no tradable commodities in the plains, thus as long as the few bastions guarding the underways and the forbidden cities were protected, the Empire did not truly care what the nomadic plainsmen did.

  The humans in the outlying settlements produced desired goods and performed the menial work none wished to do. Even in the cities, human servants were used to run errands and wait on their dwarven overseers. Finngyr thanked Daomur their human stink was not allowed in the judicial and temple districts.

  As long as it did not impact trade, the Knights would be allowed to perform their sacred duties. Finngyr spat into the sand as if the bad taste those coin mongering simpletons left in his mouth was something physical, like soured ale.

  “That is a foul face indeed,” Knight Captain Danuk said.

  Finngyr had been so deep in thought, he had not heard the captain approach. He rose smartly and bowed.

  “Knight Captain,” Finngyr said. He tried to keep the hope from his voice. Had the time finally come?

  Danuk nodded in reply and then motioned for Finngyr to take his seat before joining him. Finngyr's earlier opponents were back in the nearby ring, sparring. The two veteran knights sat together and watched.

  “Those two have yet to be blooded,” the Knight Captain eventually said.

  “Aye and it shows,” Finngyr replied. “But, they fight well enough for a couple of beardlings.”

  Knight Danuk grunted and continued to watch them in silence. “That is good to hear. They will be joining you.”

  Finngyr wasn't sure he heard correctly. “They will what, Knight Captain?”

  “Be joining you. You have an assignment. Though, I'm not sure what the Knight's Council was thinking. I requested you and every other knight able to hoist his hammer assigned to the plains.”

  “I'm not being assigned to the plains?” Finngyr said. He was not sure if that was good or bad. A part of him wanted to be back there, the other wanted to find the stonechosen he had let escape and drag its mangled body back to Daomount.

  “All I know is you will not be reporting to me. You are to report to the Lord Knight Justice Gyldoon himself. That is all I was told.”

  Danuk's tone said he would be interested in any information Finngyr cared to add. The Knight Captain continued to stare out over the training area as he spoke, but Finngyr could see how the last statement pained him to admit. It meant whatever Finngyr's fate was to be, it was decided.

  At least whatever his punishment was, he would still be performing Daomur's holy will. He was being assigned somewhere. But where would he go with two untested Knights who had not even performed their first rites yet? He could understand the Knight Captain's unease. The assignment should have been passed down through him. This breach in protocol could not bode well for Finngyr. If Lord Knight Justice Gyldoon needed to be seen taking a personal hand in this, it could only mean the High Council had instructed him to see to Finngyr's fate himself. The Lord Knight Justice would not be pleased to be ordered to discipline one of his own by the High Council.

  “You might want to clean up first. The Lord Knight Justice awaits you at the central shrine.” The Knight Captain's words shook Finngyr from his musings.

  Finngyr was up and moving, remembering at the last second to turn and bow.

  “His word is Law, Knight Captain.”

  “I'll let these two know to get ready and meet you at the stables,” was all the Knight Captain said in lieu of a response.

  Finngyr straightened his robes for the fifth time. He wished he had been given enough time to don his armor. But, he was worried he had kept the Lord Knight Justice waiting too long by just washing and throwing on his ceremonial robes. His neck and collar were still damp from his hastily rinsed hair. He rarely wore these robes and was used to the feel of his armor. The freedom of movement the robes granted felt wrong.

  “Damnable cloth.” He felt naked.

  He made his way up the stairs leading to the central shrine. The Temple of Justice was located near the summit of Daomount and the main chamber at the top of the temple. It was only accessible by a long flight of white Orehome marble stairs. Each broad step worth a small fortune.

  Finngyr had been in full armor the last time he was here during the Blessings. He recalled the plates of his armor reflecting the early morning light shining through the temple's high arches.

  The shrine was built to hold thousands of worshipers. Finngyr had only ever been to the main chamber during the Blessings. Nothing filled him with more pride and honor for his sect than the Blessings. The ceremony that heralded the Knights setting forth to deliver Daomur's judgement on the humans throughout the Empire.

  Where before Finngyr had been surrounded by fellow knights, lost in their numbers, his footsteps now echoed off the pillars, lining the stairs like sentinels, judging each of his unworthy steps.

  At the summit of the stairs, the warm salt-touched winds gusted through the chamber, sending the numerous banners, bearing Daomur's hammer and scales, snapping. He took in the majestic view of the shrine and the Innersea beyond the shrine's thick columns.

  In the distance, the Lord Knight Gyldoon knelt before the final set of steps that lead to main altar. Two knights, fully armed and armored, knelt a short distance behind him. They both rose at Finngyr's approach. By their demeanor and the way they held their weapons, Finngyr knew they were veterans and more than ready to sacrifice themselves to protect the Lord Knight Justice.

  Finngyr stopped a safe distance away and took a knee before bowing low and placing a fist on the smooth floor. He stared at his stone-faced reflection in the marble floor. The time had come to know his fate.

  “Daomur is the truth and his word justice!”

  The two bodyguards inclined their heads and responded in unison, “let our hammers deliver his truth!” Their words all but lost in the vast chamber.

  “And so they shall, so they shall,” Lord Knight Gyldoon said as he rose. His voice had the gravelly sound of the old, but with an undeniable strength still beneath it.

  When one of his knig
ht protectors stepped forward to help him to his feet, he swatted the proffered arm away.

  “Go! Guard the stair. Knight Justice Finngyr and I will speak alone,” the Lord Knight said.

  Both protectors dropped to a knee and bowed deeply. They rose, backed away and turned to walk past Finngyr. He could feel their eyes on the top of his helmetless head, almost make out their dour expressions in their reflections on the floor. They must be as confused by this summons as he.

  “Rise, Knight Justice Finngyr. I would have a look at you.”

  He rose to his full height and stood there silent, but proud. He would not play the part of the chastised child.

  “You were to deliver his judgement. Find the Fallen One's chosen and destroy them else their powers grow.” The Lord Knight's blunt statement, a quote from the Blessing Ceremony, would have had less impact had it been a gauntleted fist to the jaw. There was no accusation there, no blame. Just a matter-of-fact pronouncement that left Finngyr broken in its wake.

  He had failed.

  Finngyr swallowed and took a deep breath, staring forward. He did not want the doubt that was inside to be read on his face.

  The Lord Knight stared at Finngyr for what felt like hours. Finngyr squared his shoulders and resolved to stand strong under that gaze. He was a knight justice. He would suffer the fate of his failure.

  “Walk with me,” Gyldoon said.

  Finngyr blinked.

  Gyldoon clasped his thin hands behind his back and began a circuitous route through the shrine. Finngyr moved to take a place his right and slightly behind, giving him the position of honor, and followed in silence. Finngyr had never been this close to the old dwarf. He studied him as they walked. The Lord Knight Justice must have been large in his youth. Time had pulled on his frame, but Gyldoon's shoulders were still square and his back straight.

  “Did you wonder why you were assigned to the Cradle of the Gods?” He didn't look back as he spoke. He simply stopped near one of the many marble columns and looked down over the city and surrounding sea.

  “Yes, Lord Knight Justice.” Finngyr said.

  “A simple, sir, is sufficient, Finngyr. We will be here all morning if you insist on complete titles.”

  “Yes, Lord Kn…sir.”

  “Good. At least you can follow some orders. Well? Why do you think you were sent there of all places? “

  Finngyr swallowed. “I thought I had done something wrong, sir.” That was the truth of it. Finngyr could see no other reason to pull him from the Nordlah Plains and send him to that backwater settlement.

  “Did you know legend has it that settlement was named the Cradle of the Gods because it was the birthplace of the primordials?” Gyldoon said.

  “No, sir.”

  “The ruins that lay scattered at the base of the large mountain called the Horn was once one of the largest cathedrals dedicated to Haurtu the Hungerer. A place of study and learning. A place of the mind.”

  Finngyr remembered flying over the ruins when he accompanied the guards on their way up the valley to the Stonechosen's village. It seemed an unremarkable pile of stone. Nothing compared to some of the ruined human cities Finngyr had seen.

  “I believe those are the places where the soulstones of Haurtu appear in Allwyn. Those places where once his power was focused. It is why I personally selected strong loyal knights to perform the Right of Attrition in the settlements at or near those locations.”

  Did Finngyr hear correctly? So he was not punished but handpicked, personally selected? Loyal? Wait, weren't all knights loyal? Finngyr fought down the urge to rebuke that statement. He grabbed the nearest thought and focused on it instead.

  “Why now, sir? Why this year's rite?”

  Gyldoon did not answer right way. Finngyr could tell the Lord Knight was weighing his next words carefully.

  “If one studies the Book of Hjurl and is devout, the clues are there,” Gyldoon finally said.

  Studied? Devout? Finngyr drew a deep calming breath. He had pored over the Prophecies until his eyes burned. There were none more devout than he. Was he being baited? It was obvious the Lord Knight was holding something back and it maddened Finngyr that he could not question the Lord Knight's answer.

  The only portion that even mentioned the soulstones was the Prophecies of Hjurl, wasn't it? He had seen nothing to say when the Time of the Stonechosen would come let alone where the soulstones would appear.

  Finngyr swallowed before replying. “Lord Knight Justice, forgive my impertinence, but why not tell the Judge's Council this? If you suspected the Time of the Stonechosen had come and you thought you knew where the soulstones would appear, why not report this to the Council and send the might of the empire to those places?”

  Gyldoon again did not answer right away.

  Finngyr then recognized the Lord Knight's fight for self control. He fought the same battle so often in himself. Gyldoon raised an eyebrow and looked ready to chastise him, but then swallowed it down instead.

  “Because the Judge's Council would ask the very question you have asked and believe my answer as much as you do now.”

  The old knight rubbed his hands together and continued walking. They did not speak again for several moments. Finngyr turned over the implications as he followed. The Lord Knight's next words were spoken with a tiredness.

  “A knight justice should not get as old as I am, Finngyr. The battles I have seen, have been through. Any one of them should have brought my end upon me. The wounds that should have claimed me, only to heal so that I could fight on. I used to think Daomur had some special purpose for me.” Gyldoon held his hands before him, studied them in the dawn light.

  Finngyr saw the thickness and odd curves in the Lord Knight's joints.

  “The pain brought on by age seeps into me, Finngyr. It far outweighs the pains of old battle wounds. Did you witness the light when you struck the stonechosen?” Gyldoon said.

  The question caught Finngyr off guard. “Sir? The light? Yes, yes, sir, I did. I was blinded by it.”

  “What did it feel like when you struck the creature?” Gyldoon said.

  Finngyr had barely finished saying “stone” before Gyldoon was nodding, a distant look on his face.

  “So the time is upon us.”

  Gyldoon reached out and placed his gnarled hands on Finngyr's shoulders. His yellow tinged eyes grabbed and held Finngyr's own with sheer intensity.

  “You have failed me and the order, Finngyr. But, if given the chance, to redeem yourself, would you seize it?”

  Finngyr didn't understand. Was he to be given another chance? Knight Captain Danuk said he was not being assigned to the plains. That the Lord Knight Justice had a special assignment for him. When Finngyr responded, each word hung heavy with conviction.

  “With all my being, Lord Knight Justice.”

  Gyldoon continued to stare into the younger knight's eyes, weighing him. “Every year during the Rites of Attrition the merchants complain about trade and business. How important the settlements are to the Empire. Then the Judges council consults with the three Temples of Daomur. The Artificers' coffers, like most of the governors who sit the Judge's Council, are lined by the merchants and guildhalls. The Ritualists spew their rhetoric of carefully weighed choices and restraint. They pay lip service to the importance of the Temple of Justice, but speak of it in dribble about the importance of traditions.”

  “Your actions in the Cradle of the Gods have drawn much attention, Finngyr. You are exactly what the merchant's feared. As a result, the Judge's Council was more upset about that burned village and the riots than any rumors of stonechosen.”

  Gyldoon smirked. “Did they seek my counsel? No, they asked in what way you would be disciplined to set an example for the others of our sect.”

  By what right did those coin mongers and wordsmiths have to question the Knight's Council?

  It was by divine right that all knights of the Temple of Justice were assigned their duties by the Knight's Council, of w
hich Lord Knight Gyldoon presided over.

  But, as the smallest sect in the Church of Daomur, the Knights held little sway over the Judge's council, unlike the other two major sects, the Ritualists and the Artificers.

  “As long as the Temple of Law and the Temple of Art are in power, the merchants have control of the Judge's Council. If we are going to protect the Empire from this threat and itself, I need to seize control. To do that, I must prove the Time of the Stonechosen has indeed arrived and to do that I need proof. I need to show them a stonechosen,” Gyldoon said.

  “If it could be proven that the time of the stonechosen has come, then the laws are clear and the Judge's council would have to listen to the Knight's Council of the Temple of Justice above all others. It would mean supreme control over all military of the five mountain cities and the entire Empire,” Gyldoon said.

  Again the weight of Finngyr's failure to capture Ghile Stonechosen rose unbidden like bile. Had he succeeded, the Lord Knight Justice would have what he needed and even now a righteous purge would be sweeping across the Empire.

  But, the Lord Knight Justice said he sent knights. There were others chosen and sent to these special places he somehow knew about.

  “Sir, what of the others? Did none succeed?”

  “All that returned failed me.”

  “That returned?”

  “Of all the Knights I sent out, only one is unaccounted for.”

  Then, there was still hope.

  Finngyr was torn. A part of him hoped this remaining knight would succeed, a part of him wished for his failure.

  Finngyr chastised himself. He would not let his own hubris cloud his thoughts.

  “Sir, how many did you send out?” Finngyr said.

  “Three to the lost cities in the Nordlah plains. Of those three, all returned with talk of large tribal gatherings, but due to the number of humans were unable to get close and had to return. The ones I sent to the ruined city on the forgotten coast returned with no sightings. Only Knight Justice Griff, who I sent to Dagbar's settlement near the Fallen City, has not returned.”

  The City of the Fallen, as it was named in the texts, was one of the cities Finngyr had marked as a potential destination for Ghile Stonechosen.