Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal

by Jason L Crocker

  Having seen this side of him before, I knew it best to just let my old friend return to himself, by himself. So I did my best to ignore him, which proved to be no easy task.

  “We should reach the Governor’s residence by noon if all is well.”

  “Not if that cloud bank opens to the east,” griped Baram for the umpteenth time as he eyed the far off clouds distastefully. “The way this wind is blowing we shall have rain by mid-morning, you mark my words” he continued.

  “Then we shall have to take our chances with the weather,” I argued back.

  “It will slow our progress, should we be caught by it,” he snorted.

  I gave Jaramel a sharp look which blamed him for my lack of rest, and Baram’s current condition. The apprentice wizard did his best not to meet my gaze.

  Two hours later and the rain still had not come. The south winds had kept the eastern clouds from advancing in our direction, and by mid-morning, we were bathed in glorious sunshine.

  Baram’s dark mood seemed to lighten somewhat by the arrival of the sun as well since he had only complained twice in the past hour. The first being that his saddle straps had somehow loosened themselves and that the maker was obviously to blame for producing such inferior craftsmanship. The second was when a wild forest boar suddenly burst from the trees in front of Anvil heading for thick bush on the far side of the road. The result of this was a string of curses from Baram directed at the pig’s rear as he fought to regain control of a startled mount. But by the time we had reached the Governor’s residence, he thankfully seemed pretty much back to being himself.

  Governor Talak’s residence was built in much the same manner as Governor Arron’s of the south. The entire residence was built on top of a small hill on an open plain. The path we now rode upon led up to a guarded gate at the top of the rise. The whole place seemed to me to resemble a miniature version of Ranak-Lore, as strong looking sturdy walls led off in either direction from the gate to totally encircle and protect the buildings within. A ring of steel, all of its own I thought.

  Another gate could clearly be seen on the west side of the encircling wall. This gate led down to a mass of makeshift structures at the base of the hill. Many people could be seen here moving about carrying out various tasks and duties of their own pleasing. At first glance, I thought these structures had something to do with the food source for the Governor’s residence, as cows, pigs, and even a haystack could be seen amongst them. But on closer inspection, I realised them to be a community all of their own.

  Remembering Ranak-Lore and how the people were flocking there seeking the King’s protection, my guess was that these people were some of the local populace, who were frightened by rumours heard, so gathered here to obtain the protection of the Governor and his men.

  I shook my head at the sad sight.

  If the north were to invade now, then these people would not stand a chance.

  An archer atop of the gate called down something to a colleague on the ground at our approach.

  Three guards quickly assembled before us. The one in the centre stepped forward to bar any further approach as his two companions moved their pike staffed weapons uneasily in their hands.

  “Halt! What business do you have at the residence of Governor Talak?” demanded the guard.

  I noticed his eyes linger longer on Baram.

  “Our business is with the Governor, we must speak with him urgently,” I insisted.

  The soldier shook his head.

  “The Governor is seeing no-one today, business or otherwise. Those are my orders, so be off with you.” There was a slight edge to his tone that I found offensive.

  I regarded this man in a new light, a rough-looking fellow who looked as if he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Tall, broad shouldered, with a stubbly short beard and a cleanliness of uniform that the King’s guard would be ashamed of, in respect of the one he now wore being so dirty! Judging by the insignias he wore he appeared to be a Captain of sorts.

  “You don’t understand. I am Taragon Stein, and I have with me here…” I reached for my saddlebag intending to retrieve the scroll with the King’s seal, but on hearing a bowstring go taught, I realised that I had moved my hand too fast.

  An archer had pulled back his weapon and now aimed the projectile in my direction. Simultaneously the two guards that accompanied this Captain had moved forward to flanking positions on either side of him, and the Captain himself now had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It was then I realised that my crossbow on my leg sat very close to the saddlebags.

  “Hold!” I said aloud with my palm raised upwards in a gesture to stop.

  I then moved my hand very slowly into a saddlebag and withdrew the scrolled parchment that was intended for the Governor.

  I noticed another archer had appeared on the wall’s top, and another two other armed guards had emerged from within the gate to join their colleagues.

  This was beginning to get a bit out of hand.

  “I have a message from the King intended for Governor Talak’s eyes only.” The Captain looked sceptically at the parchment in my hand.

  I needed to convince him further.

  “I also have with me Jaramel Ovin, apprentice mage to Luka Barail, the King’s own court advisor and mage.”

  “Jaramel!” I called.

  I heard Jaramel’s voice come from behind as I kept my eyes directed on the scene in front of me.

  “I am Jaramel Ovin, apprentice mage to Luka Barail, court advisor to King Silverstone the Third, and you would do well to listen to the words of Mr Stein here.”

  The Captain redirected his attention towards Jaramel, then turning to the soldier on his left, he whispered something to him before the soldier turned and ran off back through the gate and disappeared. None of the other soldiers I noticed had relaxed their stances.

  It was anxious moments that passed before the guard returned escorting another man who wore a purple robe sitting astride a small horse. The man on horseback looked official in status, but I was somewhat disappointed by his appearance. From the rumours I had heard about Governor Talak, I was half expecting some huge hulking battle-hardened warrior lord, not some small thin, ageing man with a poorly styled greying hair cut!

  This man’s eyes quickly sort out Jaramel as he came along side of the scruffy Captain.

  “Thank you Captain,” he said in a voice as weak as his appearance, “I shall take it from here.”

  “Jaramel, it is good to see you again, do forgive the good Captain here as times have been a little uneasy of late.”

  “Tell me how is Luka these days?”

  “He is well,” replied Jaramel.

  “And how are you Degrim? I hope all is well with you?”

  So this wasn’t Talak after all, I felt a little relieved.

  Degrim shrugged his thin shoulders, which protruded like two lumps from under the silky robe he wore.

  “Ahh, you know,” sighed Degrim. “One tries to do his best under such circumstances.”

  “You will forgive me if I do not dismount to greet you properly,” he continued.

  “It’s just that the mud is so terribly thick here I should probably get stuck.”

  “Of course,” replied Jaramel.

  Degrim cast his gaze over Baram and me for the first time.

  “May I introduce Taragon Stein and Baram Oakengood.”

  I bowed to this man of obvious status as Jaramel introduced my name to him.

  “Degrim Calfor, personal assistant to Governor Talak, at your service,” added Degrim with a returning bow of his own.

  I knew this type of man. He was the kind of person who had worked hard for his status and consequently commanded the respect that goes with it. I decided to be nice to him…at least for now.

  “Sir, we have travelled from Ranak Lore on urgent business with Governor Talak, and we have great need to speak with him?”

  The Governor’s assistant slowly eyed me up and down before giv
ing his reply.

  “Well, you could if he were here, but unfortunately the Governor is away at present.” He smiled weakly.

  “Then where may we find him?” I pressed.

  Degrim sighed again.

  “He should be found at the central fort along the divide. He left to journey there two days ago. But by now he could be at any one of the forts,” he added.

  “Then our time here is wasted!” I snapped irritably and began to turn Storm without another word. Baram followed my lead, leaving Jaramel behind to conclude any pleasantries he may have had with Degrim as we continued our journey.

  After another two hours of travelling the majestic scene of the Talon mountain range came into view far off to the east. Their peaks pierced the low cloud banks that hung about their summits which reached forever upwards into the heavens. The formations I now eyed were at the far northern end of the Galvian’s home boundaries and seemed to me to resemble a gigantic crown that had risen from the earth’s depths to rest gently upon the world above. Amazing to behold, beautiful to look at, I now understood why they were sometimes referred to as the Noble Mountains.

  And to our west, lost from view over land and tree was Glandoran’s Basin. Jaramel had become quite excited by the fact that we were only a quarter day’s ride from the famous landmark. Supposedly, as stories told, the Basin was created by a powerful magic user who had tried to change the shape of the land by casting an earth-altering spell with disastrous consequences. Not only was the magic user reduced to smouldering pile of ash, but also the resulting effect of the spell was a quarter mile depression cut into the land, fifty feet deep at its centre and with sides as smooth as glass. Nothing ever grew there, and no rainfall ever filled the basin.

  Nobody knew for sure if this was the actual reason for the landmarks existence, but it was generally the most acceptable explanation. Whatever its creation we had no time for sightseeing, much to Jaramel’s disappointment.

  The Divide was still over a day’s ride away. We had wasted time at the Governor’s residence, and where I thought we would have rest, there was none. I toiled with the idea of pushing the horses on through the night to reach the relative safety the divide would offer but dismissed the thought just as quickly. The animals needed their rest, and now so did we. Besides, even though I had travelled north to these lands before, I did not know their paths well enough to risk moving through them at night.

  I looked to the heavens.

  The sun’s daily journey across the sky had passed its midday point by three hours. I estimated another three hours of sunlight remaining before the approach of night.

  We were currently following the south bank of a flowing stream. The road could be seen continuing on through the trees on the opposite side of the water.

  Crossing the shallow stream, we stopped only briefly to replenish our water skins before continuing along the northern road for another two hours as it curved its way through the much more rugged terrain of the north. Our progress was slower here than it had been, as our path consistently dipped and curved in tune with the landscape before finally levelling out to reveal large fields ahead of us.

  By now the sun had all but gone. It was slowly disappearing from our world into the western horizon taking with it what light was left for yet another day.

  I slowed Storm before the path that led into the fields, and decided that it would be better to spend the night amongst the trees, rather than the exposed expanses that the fields would have to offer, so camp was made amongst a small glade of surrounding trees within a stone's throw from the field’s entrance.

  Once the horses were unsaddled Baram volunteered to lead them to the grass so they could refresh themselves.

  “Here, take this with you to light your way.” I offered my Glowball staff up to Baram who took hold of its shaft before looking the item up and down with some puzzlement.

  “How does it work?” he asked.

  “Just pass your hand over the globe at its end,” I replied.

  Baram did so and was immediately bathed in the eerie blue light of the staff.

  “Amazing!” he replied as he tapped the illuminated globe with an extended finger whilst peering into its hypnotic light.

  “Baram!” I called the big man’s attention.

  “Yes?” he replied, his gaze unmoving.

  “Are you not going to tend the horses?”

  He turned his head towards me.

  “Oh…yes, of course,” he stumbled and walked off whilst holding the staff aloft.

  I shook my head as I turned to Jaramel who had been following Baram intently with his gaze until noticing my attention upon him, whereas he quickly redirected his eyes back towards his book.

  Taking the food sack in hand, I walked to the campfire with the thought of a stew in mind. The pot of water that had been placed there earlier was now almost at boiling point and ready for the ingredients. Emptying the contents of the sack revealed there to be potatoes, salted meats, various roots and vegetables, some of which I had collected along the way myself, and also some dried fruits.

  I had made this type of meal before of course, but with varying levels of success. I called it Everything Stew! And as its name implies you generally ended up placing everything you had into a pot and hoping for the best.

  Placing the dried fruits to one side for breakfasting, I then began to mix the remainder of the ingredients into the pot.

  Stirring the bubbling mixture once, there was nothing to do now but to wait.

  Jaramel was still reading with constant interest the little leather bound book he always carried. He carefully thumbed over another one of its pages.

  “How can you see well enough to read in this light?” I asked, partly from interest and partly for the need of conversation.

  “Or have you a magical book at hand too?” I continued with a hint of sarcasm.

  Jaramel looked up from his reading.

  “Mr Stein, having eyes such as mine does have one advantage.”

  “You mean you can read in the dark?”

  “I mean I can see in the dark. Night becomes almost as clear as day.”

  I was quite surprised by this. All along I thought that Luka’s and Jaramel’s eyes were like that mainly because of the magic within their veins.

  “I did not know,” I said with genuine surprise.

  “You did not ask,” came Jaramel’s reply, before once again returning to his book.

  At that moment something caught my eye. A few leaves of the tree Jaramel sat against slowly fluttered downwards to land a short distance away from my boot.

  I found this strange, as no wind was apparent for their disturbance, so I followed their path upwards towards the tree.

  There! Something just moved within the shadows, or was it a trick of the fire’s light?

  No! There! It moved again!

  A dark shape was moving very slowly down the black bark of the tree.

  Black bark! How could I have been so stupid?

  I quickly looked at the shape of a leaf near to my boot, and my worst fears were confirmed. Jaramel was leaning against the trunk of a Midnight tree! That could mean only one thing, the shape creeping slowly down the trunk towards Jaramel could only have been … a Barkskin Spider!

  Damn my eyes for not recognising this earlier. After all my uncle had taught me about tree lore as well!

  Naturally aggressive, very territorial, and extremely venomous, the Barkskin spider was an efficient killing predator, instantaneously lethal to any bird or small mammal that was unfortunate enough to seek refuge and rest amongst the branches of its home.

  Another favoured technique for catching larger prey would be to simply drop from the branches of the tree straight onto the back of an intended victim. Its first bite would generally be sufficient. Its quarry, depending on size, would then stagger in a daze never far from the tree until the full effect of the spider’s poison had taken effect. Once this had happened, the Spider would then simply suspend
thread from above, before rolling its prey back up into the branches to consume at its leisure.

  I still remember the time when I saw my first one with my uncle, and how I watched it in fascination lift a small forest boar it had killed clean off the ground, only to be rolled back into the branches of a Midnight tree by its spidery thread.

  That particular tree had been close to my uncle’s home. He even had a name for the Barkskin spider that lived within its branches. Old Creepy, he used to call him. My uncle had explained to me at an early age that Barkskin spiders made their homes only in the branches of a Midnight tree. This was because their bodies resembled the bark of the tree so perfectly it was almost as if they were a part of the tree itself. This also made them extremely hard to spot, unless they were to move of course. As large as a man’s torso, they hunted by the heat of the blood that coursed through warm-blooded veins.

  I think that is why this one moved slowly down the tree trunk now. Bathed by the fire’s heat, Jaramel must have been a hard target for the Barkskin spider to spot. It must have sensed that there was a possible meal at the base of its tree, but needed to get nearer to find the exact location.

  Jaramel would be okay as long as he did not move…

  To call out to this young mage now would surely mean his death. More likely to panic, Jaramel would probably try to stand and flee from this approaching death. The spider would then have him in an instant. It was generally slow to move, but with the possibility of a meal at hand it could suddenly be as quick as lightning, and its bite with unknown cure would certainly be fatal to the thin frail magic user.

  Jaramel turned another page of his book entirely unaware of his impending doom.

  The Barkskin Spider meanwhile had inched another foot down the tree trunk. It's two forward appendages were eagerly tapping in the air before it…. sensing… probing, looking for another clue to this elusive prey.

  I had to act; it was now only three arm lengths away from Jaramel’s head.

  Through careful movements, I moved my hand slowly to my crossbow. Sitting next to the fire I would have been invisible to its view. Still, any sudden movements on my behalf could also prove fatal for the young mage. I felt the straps fall loosely about my leg; all the while my eyes remained fixed upon my intended target so as not to lose my mark.