Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal

by Jason L Crocker

  As for the battlefield, it was a throng of activity.

  With the continuing beat of the Khor-Tha-Roar pounding in my ears, my eyes darted from one enemy grouping to the next. I slowed to focus on a moving mass that was encircling an area just outside the city’s killing zone. Straining my sight, I could just make them out to be a contingent of cavalry, presumably the Malikans, doubtlessly looking for potential opportunities for a quick strike, but whilst the wall still held, they would have none.

  Beyond the riders were the first lines of the northern army proper, and it was from here that a hail of black bolts was suddenly shot skywards. They reached the upper battlements of the capital’s wall with ease. Whatever mechanisms these bolts were fired from certainly had more range than those of their southern cousins, for none were returned.

  Casting my gaze westwards, I took in the entirety of Vorgannon’s strength when from over the heads of the attackers hurtled two immense boulders on a dangerous arc towards the city! You could sense the apprehension as the three of us followed their trajectory with unwavering stares. The first of the boulders thankfully fell harmlessly short within twenty meters of its intended target. However the second projectile had no such luck, the immense rock struck the wall’s top with all its might, but it did little more than bounce over its ramparts and disappeared from view into the city beyond. I could not see what damage was done if any, but I knew it was going to take more than a few oversized stones to breach the thickness of those great walls.

  On the whole, it appeared as if the northerners had not yet prepared the proper siege equipment necessary for use against the Ring of Steel. I guess they had just underestimated the scale and might of the Galvians’ construction; it certainly was the one thing that was preventing Vorgannon from assured victory. But it did not take a genius to work out that Ranak-Lore was doomed, and it was only going to be a matter of time before the city would fall.

  “So many!” sighed Baram forlornly whilst lowering his head.

  “Bah! I’ve dealt with worse,” I quipped back in an attempt to lighten the moment.

  But before Baram could reply a great crackling noise overhead demanded our heads be tilted skywards. With the sound of the Kor-Tha-Roar silencing once again I noticed a build up of blue flashes appearing amid the darkest clouds that were reserved for the area just above the city. We all knew what was coming next, and it came with a wrath set free like the Gods themselves had entered into the fray.

  “Lightning from Vorgannon!” yelled Jaramel as the clouds flared bright blue before unleashing a terrifying burst of pure white light that thundered down to strike the city’s walls. A section of the barrier where the attack had been most severe instantly crumbled under the onslaught and fell to the earth below. Baram gasped at the sight, but it was only a small amount of stone that had loosened, and the Ring of Steel was largely undamaged. However, a division of Northern forces upon the ground had taken this as a sign to attack; they foolishly rushed forwards only to be cut down where they stood by a torrent of arrows the likes of which I would never see again. It looked like the King had every man, woman and child capable of using a bow to man the battlements, and when the downpour had ended, few of the northerners who had rushed forwards were left standing.

  Then something else occurred. It began small at first like someone with a burning torch had appeared atop the city’s fortifications. But the burning torch increased its size and mass until it was clearly as large as a hay cart. A great burning fiery ball of magic that could have only been created by one person within the King’s court now burned fiercely, illuminating the shadows of many men about its glow.

  “And there!” yelled Jaramel excitedly and with pride, “master Luka returns his answer.”

  The fireball then came alive and hurtled from the wall with such speed into a cluster of northerners that none would have been able to escape its fiery wrath. The resulting explosion of intense flame that followed burned brightly upon the ground for many moments, and when all the fires had finally died, so too had all of its intended victims.

  “One for Luka,” I said cheerily turning to Jaramel. But the mage had gone into a trance-like state and stood motionless as if in silent prayer.

  Several moments later and Jaramel rejoined the world of the living with a start.

  “Jaramel?” said Baram with concern, “are you okay.”

  “Perfectly,” replied the apprentice, “I have just informed master Luka of our intentions.”

  “Oh?” I said with irony, “and what exactly are our intentions?”

  Jaramel fixed his gaze upon me. I do not know if it was the adrenaline that was causing his eyes to burn like never before, or if it was the magic he had stored within his veins making it so, but whatever the reason, I found them to be unsettling once again.

  “Our intentions Mr Stein, consist of me summoning the Bane Demon to wreak what havoc I am able upon the northern tribes. Then Trevlock here will signal the aid of the Galvians at the appropriate time, which in turn will hopefully free those within the city to launch an attack of their own.”

  The plan sounded good enough, and it seemed our young apprentice had thought things through, but as my eyes went to the battlefield, and back again an area of doubt crept into my mind.

  “And what did your master Luka have to say about this?” I asked as Jaramel lowered the cloaked hood that he so infrequently had done before.

  “I do not know,” responded the apprentice awkwardly, “I broke my connection with him before he could reply.”

  Odd I thought… “You’re concerned by what he might say?” I accused.

  Jaramel nodded in agreement, his wispy brown hair fluttered so furiously in the wind that he fought to free it from his eyes.

  “I feel master Luka would… try and dissuade me from my intended course of action.”

  I nodded my head in understanding, it was obviously dangerous for the boy to attempt the summoning by himself, but here on the Eye, there was no one else. It would have to be Jaramel.

  “So why have you not chosen to talk with Luka before now?” asked Baram inquisitively.

  A smile formed on the apprentice’s lips as he turned to face the weaponsmith.

  “I can only converse with master Luka over short distances,” answered the mage. “I can feel him now trying to communicate with me, but at this point, my mind must remain closed as I have to prepare myself.”

  “Pity,” returned the big man, “I was hoping to find out how Kendra was faring.”

  I suddenly realised as Jaramel readied himself for the moment at hand, how relieved and carefree I had been feeling of late. My mood should be sombre, but it was not. The weight of responsibility had shifted. I had completed my mission. I had upheld my part of the bargain. My part in this quest had ended, and in doing so, it had freed me from my obligations. However, Jaramel’s task was just beginning, no matter how I should have felt, it was now his burden to bare. The lives of countless thousands, perhaps eventually even my own, now depended upon this scrawny boy wizard. I did not have to imagine how he was feeling. I had felt similar since leaving the gates of Ranak-lore those many moons ago. The south’s future could well now depend on him. I felt the need to say something, I felt that if I reached out and assured him that everything was going to be okay, it would somehow help, but in the end, I remained silent, I guess Jaramel understood what needed to be done… and ultimately our fate had yet to be decided.

  Allowing the mage room for his preparations, I came to stand beside Baram.

  “I feel so useless,” he complained, “and as for this!” he moaned again as he freed his battle-axe, “this is going to be of little use to me up here!” he said tossing the weapon to one side.

  I could not help feeling sorry for my old friend. Here we were positioned far from the battlefield, and all he wanted to do was split open a few northerners’ heads.

  Stooping to retrieve a fist-sized rock near to my feet, I then held it out to the big man for the takin
g.

  “Here,” I offered, “use this.”

  Baram frowned and looked at the rock suspiciously, but the frown dissolved as quickly as it had come, and was swiftly replaced with a maniacal grin as he took the rock from my grasp. Then with a full swing backwards he let the rock fly with a grunt. The rock sped from his hand, and I managed to follow its path until losing sight of it just above a tightly packed group of northerners below. I was generally surprised when one of the little warriors fell over. Baram turned to me still grinning.

  “HA! Take that you northern dogs!” he screamed aloud.

  After that, there was no stopping him. He scurried around like a dog looking for a lost bone as he continued to pick up ever increasing sizes of rock, before then hurling them off the edge with a fresh curse onto whoever the unfortunate was that received them below. Even the Galvian Trevlock joined in, although I suspected he thought it was some kind of game. The giant had placed his massive Longbow with the silver single arrow to one side, before picking up rocks of his own and hurling them clean off the Eye. Although to be fair the size of the rocks the Galvian threw would have to have the word “boulder” associated with them. One particular boulder that was heaved off the edge by the grey goliath actually started a landslide that dealt a significant amount of misfortune to those too slow to escape its path. The pair were actually in serious danger of running out of rocks to throw. But at least it had alleviated some of the worries on Baram’s troubled mind.

  As I entertained thoughts of joining the happy duo, the familiar sound of magic gathering in the clouds above demanded all heads save Jaramel’s, who it seemed was more content to draw strange symbols in the dirt by his feet, to be again turned skywards.

  With the warriors below in quiet harmony for a second time, I fixed my eyes once more above the ill-fated city and noticed a worrying change in the way that the skies gathered. Before, the flashes in the clouds were sporadic, and randomly placed, but this time they seemed more concentrated, as if they collected for a single purpose, in a single area, an area that would position them within the same locality of the last strike!

  With startling insight to what was about to take place, I watched with helpless fascination as a massively thick, single thunderbolt, roared from the heavens to strike the damaged section of the wall with such intense rage, that the stone and mortar beneath had little option but to split and crack asunder in its wake…the wall was breached.

  As Baram screamed with disbelief, a great cheer issued forth from Vorgannon’s army, they rushed forwards as one under a sea of arrows heading for the gap that had appeared in the city’s defences…

  Baram turned angrily to face Jaramel, the big man headed straight for the young apprentice who seemed oblivious to what had just occurred. Not knowing the thoughts of my old friend, I moved to stop him, but thankfully I did not need to as Jaramel’s outstretched hand froze the weaponsmith in his place.

  “Do not come any closer Baram Oakengood,” said Jaramel as he bent to collect the rolled piece of fur that was situated by his feet, “for you will disrupt the enchantments that I have placed upon the ground.”

  Baram was red-faced with rage. “Then do something damn you!” he said furiously, “Do something!”

  The apprentice of Luka made a motion with his hand, and Baram fell to his knees as he was released from the hold.

  “I am about to master weaponsmith,” returned Jaramel with a voice full of purpose, “I am about to.” With that, the young mage unrolled the chieftain’s fur, and with both hands raised the Soul Crystal high above his head, bathing us all in an unnatural green aura as he did so.

  My eyes returned to the battlefield, it must have looked strange from down there to seemingly have the mountain come alive and glare at you with a single glowing eye. But as the army below wedged one man against the next at the breach of the wall, it seemed that most of them were either oblivious to what was happening above their heads, or were too preoccupied with the southerners to care!

  Still…there were no signs of any manifestations as yet. Perhaps our young magic user did not have the required skill after all. Or maybe it just took a little bit of time for a Bane Demon to arrive from the depths of the Black Pit? Whatever the reason, it was time that the southerners could ill afford.

  I looked to Baram. He was still on his knees, his head was down, and he was shaking it in denial at the events taking place in the valley below. Moving to his side, I extended my arm in the offering. The big man looked up through tears of frustration, and my heart was sorely troubled for my old friend. I knew that Kendra would still be safe. It would take many more hours before Ranak-lore would fall. Besides those that were surging through the breach would have to contend with the blades of King’s own before the city was theirs, and Silverstone would have surely ordered all the children and women folk to take shelter in the safest place in the city, most probably within the walls of his very own castle. But telling any of this to Baram would not have helped, for all he saw was the murderous north rushing into his home.

  Taking his arm, I helped him to his feet; he said nothing as he tilted his head to the heavens, just as my ears picked up the worrying closeness of the crackling sound above us. The now all too familiar flashes were appearing in the dark clouds above our very own heads, and this time I do not believe they were intended for any of the city’s walls.

  With one eye on the deadly display of light, I turned back to face Jaramel and surprisingly found the mage had created a glowing display of his own. The strange symbols the apprentice had placed upon the ground were each radiating with green illuminations that matched the Crystal’s own. There were six symbols in all, and all of the strange markings, including Jaramel, were contained within a further circle of shimmering light.

  Cautiously moving to stand by the apprentice’s side, I was careful not to disturb the enchantments upon the ground.

  “Jaramel,” I said concerned, “we may have a small problem occurring above.”

  But Jaramel did not answer, leaning my head I saw his eyes now reflected the same colour as the rest of the light that enshrouded him, and he seemed to be using them to focus on a single area of the battlefield.

  “Jaramel!” I said with more urgency. But it was of no use, the vacant expression that was returned told me he was anywhere but standing next to me.

  Three seconds later and it did not matter… the first of the thunderbolts erupted from the clouds at the same time as my shield arm was thrust unexpectedly upwards to meet with it. The lightning struck so forcibly on the outside of my shield that I thought my arm would be torn from my body as I fought to deflect the power of nature itself, but a strange force was at work helping me keep my arm in its place, a place which protected Jaramel. The strike had been unnaturally uncanny with its chosen target. As quickly as it came, the attack had stopped, but I had no time to caress my bruised and battered arm, as twice more it was pulled in abnormal directions as the magic contained within my shield absorbed two more of the deadly bolts, much to my own amazed discomfort.

  With the skies overhead suddenly quietening, and with my aching arm my own once again, I painfully and thankfully lowered my shield. It was then that I saw the first signs of Jaramel’s attempts at summoning the demon apparently working…

  Out in the centre of the plain appeared glowing green lights. They were hard to see at first as they seemed to be rising up from the ground itself, but as those that stood upon them moved aside realising that something was amiss beneath their feet, my view was bettered. From where I stood, I could clearly see that the lights were now, in fact, six illuminating symbols. Symbols, which mirrored those that surrounded Jaramel, only those of the battlefield were ten times as large, and each was blazing upwards through the earth with a sinister green flame.

  As the sense of foreboding crept into my heart, the noise around the battlefield began to dull. It seemed others were taking note of the unearthly flames appearing in their midst. Higher and higher they burned, a
nd with more intensity, until they had all combined together to form a single, thirty-foot high circle of emerald green fire. The northerners standing closest to this strange phenomenon had wisely pushed back their comrades in arms until a ring of men had formed about the flames, flames which illuminated them all like the living dead, each one looking on as if unable to move… a sensation that I knew all too well.

  There! Something else was appearing now. Slowly it came, rising upwards from the flames. No more than a dark shimmering shape at first, but a form that I saw with crystal clarity in my mind's eye, and with it came with such an impression of evil that all present must surely have felt its touch.

  As I took an involuntary step back, the flames upon the plain started to diminish, and I took this time to gaze briefly at Jaramel. The apprentice was standing as before, tall and erect, still holding the staff of Baros high above his head whilst awash in its soul-taking light, but now there was something else to him that had not been there before… a grin, our apprentice, was grinning.

  Turning back to face the monstrosity that awaited my eyes, I realised that some things in life are best left undisturbed, and this was surely one of them.

  As the dark mass started to uncurl itself from the ball it was formed in, the warriors around it widened the circle they had created. The silence was uncanny, and the sense of malevolence was overwhelming as it outstretched to its full height…the Bane Demon had arrived!

  With horror made real, the Demon towered above all; its appearance was just as it had been in my dreams. With a mane of red hair and curved black horns, it was slowly eyeing those that backed away from it. As yet it had not moved as if it was waiting for command. Then as its great head turned hatefully towards us, one of its hands rose to claw at the chain around its neck…I knew then that Jaramel had control of the beast.

  With a roar that pierced the soul and shook the heavens, the monster suddenly came horribly alive, In one quick motion it threw back its head and released an unholy breath upon all that stood before it. The green flames that issued forth instantly sent over a huge horde of men screaming to their burning deaths, such was the evil contained within. After that the centre of the battlefield erupted into chaos, the Bane Demon found its feet. Taking great steps forward on cloven hooves, it chased down its victims with merciless persecution. Men ran everywhere trying to escape its path, but how can anyone escape death itself? Those within easy reach were viciously torn asunder from passing swipes of its talon-like claws, whilst others, too slow to escape its path, were simply trampled to the ground. Some brave souls not yet overcome by fear managed to break away from the main body of men to do battle with the beast. Bravely, or foolishly, they charged in their head-on challenge. Some were on horseback while others on foot, their war cries were heard loud and clear above the screams of the dying as they clashed with their foe… I counted a full eight and a half seconds until all but one of them lay dead, and that hapless soul was on his way into the jaws of his demise, horse and all.