Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands

by Daniel White

  “That’s incredible… the thought that our world is founded on some great body of storm. If just a shard bears such power, imagine what power lies within the heart itself…”

  “A thought many wielders have entertained. But come, now is not the time to linger on it. Télia’s fear that Malath seeks to acquire the Shard and fulfil his evil desires is not without warrant. There is no doubt in my mind that he will try to find a way into its holding chamber. He is far too ambitious not to. If he cannot achieve it by his own hand he will find the necessary means to.”

  “So we must do something,” said Télia urgently.

  Jon looked flustered. “Yes, yes. But exactly what is the question.”

  “Well, it’s clear I have my part to play,” said Aldrick. “I will use my mother’s ability in the same way she did to trap Malath’s storm.”

  “But the stone she used was the key. Without that, you could never withhold his storm long enough to allow a reliable chance to strike, and you would find yourself rendered defenceless in the attempt. Your mother had barely mastered wielding that ability herself. You have yet to learn even the most basic of wielding techniques.”

  “I made thunder and lightning,” argued Aldrick.

  “Yes, but that was with your emotions flowing freely. Occasions like that are incredibly rare.”

  “Oh,” he said, feeling somewhat disenchanted. “So we need the stone then.”

  “Absolutely, I won’t have you go blundering after Malath without it.”

  “What happened to it after Darkna?”

  “The damned Synod claimed it, declared it a rare magical artefact and locked it in Delthendra’s museum. That’s what happened to it,” fumed Jon “It was exhibited as ‘The Halfstone—the stone that stole a wielder’s stormhalf’. They failed to conceive what a threat it still posed. Not a year passed before it was stolen, most likely by one of Malath’s faithful, perhaps Malath himself. That was the day any lasting faith I bestowed in the Synod was lost, and another reason I chose to remain here, away from their witlessness. Wise they may be, but insightful? Oh no.”

  “Wait, if Malath has probably had his hands on the stone all this time, why is it not until recently that he has found a way to retrieve his storm?”

  Jon shrugged. “As I have said, I do not know how he’s done it… and I’m not so sure I want to.”

  “We must find out,” stressed Télia. “It may yet work as it did for Isobel.”

  “Yes. It seems to be the brightest hope we have at the moment.” Jon looked at them both gravely. “You do realise that if we were to find the stone, this all boils down to a confrontation with Malath?”

  Aldrick gritted his teeth. “That’s what I’m hoping for. Do you know where he is, Jon? Surely twenty years has not passed without word of his whereabouts.”

  “Well, no one has seen him. But it is believed he fled to the Blackbed Plains, to the north of here.”

  “Blackbed… I have heard that name before, in stories.”

  “Many have. It is a sinister land, one of the last few places in the Narathlands where evil yet thrives. Only those with nasty, dark hearts find refuge there. It would be of no surprise to me if that is where Malath and Selayna dwell. Before she died, Selayna occupied an ancient fort there where she claimed to be researching the mysteries of the area for ‘academic purposes’.” Jon clenched his fists and the fire began to roar once more.

  “We would need an army to infiltrate a place like that!” exclaimed Télia. “I have heard stories of aeras venturing there and never returning home.”

  “I’m afraid we are on our own,” Jon said glumly. “I could request the Synod unites what remains of the wielders in Galdrem, but I doubt they would support such a venture unless it was proven that Malath poses a direct and imminent threat.”

  “Well it’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Télia stood up. Her face was lit by the blaze of the fire. Her hair wavered in the heat. “All my life I have trained to protect wielders under the Synod’s command. I refuse to believe that they would do so little in the face of adversity. You must warn them of what is coming, Jon!”

  “I will try, but expect my words to fall on deaf ears.”

  Télia sat down again, huffing. Jon looked on into the fire. There was a lengthy silence. Aldrick felt tiredness lulling his eyes closed. Télia had crescents under her own. She had slept even less than him over the past few days.

  “Perhaps it is time for us all to rest,” he suggested.

  “True wisdom right there,” Jon said, rising and stretching. “We will speak more of all this tomorrow. If you are feeling up to it, Aldrick, I will teach you how to wield your storm in the morning, at least, get some of the basics out of the way.”

  Aldrick nodded. “Please.”

  Jon showed Télia to a spare bed through a doorway to the right of the living room. Aldrick remained put. In accompaniment with the woollen rug, there were enough blankets and cushions for him to find comfort upon the floor by the fireside. When Jon returned he waved his hand and the flames dwindled to a smoulder.

  “Goodnight, my boy,” he said before retiring upstairs, extinguishing lamps and candles as he went.

  “Goodnight.” Aldrick rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. He was too tired to think anymore.

  The morning arrived sooner than Aldrick hoped, though not before a surreal dream in which he told a little black fantail that he was leaving on an adventure. The adventure consisted of repeatedly falling from the cliff behind the family home, though this time he was unaware of the cause. Each time he landed at the bottom unscathed, where Kaal met him with a grin and words of encouragement. When he woke from this dream, it took a moment for the words he, Jon and Télia had shared last night to come flooding back into his mind. He lay on his back, assuring himself that he had truly woken, then heaved himself to his feet. This was all real. Here he stood—in the wielder Jon’s living room, far from the place he called home and the family he held dear. Here he stood—a wielder himself.

  Aldrick was not the first to have risen. The front door was ajar. A cool breeze met him, bringing with it the cleansing smell of damp earth after rainfall. He wandered to the kitchen where he found a small loaf of bread that he claimed for breakfast, then made his way outside. Much of yesterday’s clouds had dispersed and the golden peaks of the surrounding mountains were visible. Trees stopped growing less than one hundred paces above where he stood. The path they had followed to reach Jon’s had been on a gradual incline all the way from Farguard. He was now at a higher elevation than the family home was against the Mountains Rain. Isobel had truly chosen an isolated place to live. It was here she had intended to raise him…

  “Good morning Aldrick.” Télia was walking toward him from within the nearby trees. She looked lovely, as always. Beams of morning sunlight shone through the canopy and danced gracefully upon her, accentuating her natural beauty.

  Butterflies tickled his insides.

  “Hello. You’re up…” He realised he hadn’t formed a complete sentence. “Early,” he quickly added.

  She smiled. “It comes with the job. I’ve been on guard since before the dawn. Wielders tend to die in the dark, when people can sneak up on them.”

  “That’s comforting,” he said sarcastically. “Thank you though—for being here.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  For a moment they stood in silence.

  “Sooo, no sign of anyone or anything evil out there?” he asked.

  “None.” Télia sat on a boulder next to him and stretched her neck.

  Something that had stirred Aldrick’s curiosity recently came back into his mind.

  “Télia,” he began. “How did you find me in the market place that day in Rain, before you learned my name? And in Farguard, you saw Jon and knew he was a wielder, even before meeting him.”

  She grinned up at him. “Ah, well, something which I may have failed to mention during our journey here is that aeras, as well as a rare few wild crea
tures, like ka-zchen, have the gift of sensing storm within a wielder. It is of great advantage to us as we remain aware of our wielder’s whereabouts when they are out of eyesight.”

  “What does it feel like?” Aldrick asked, fascinated. “What do you feel as I stand here now?”

  Télia looked at him contemplatively. “It is as though you radiate heat… but it is cool.” She shook her head. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Does it not get annoying—being around a wielder when you can always feel them?”

  She shrugged. “We learn to live with it. It’s like any sense I suppose. We can always see and we don’t get sick of that, do we?”

  “True… is the feeling more intense when we wield our storm?”

  “Your storm will surge within you, but we cannot feel storm which has been spent, only when it is in its pure state.”

  “I see. Only people who have this gift are allowed to be aeras?”

  “Yes…”

  “Because an aera’s job is solely to protect wielders. You are no ordinary bodyguard.”

  “No.” Télia stood up. “Aldrick, I avoided mention of this on our journey here because it would have spoilt the big surprise for you. I saved that for Jon. I meant not to hide things from you. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “It’s fine. Really.”

  “How are you coping with the whole ‘being an almighty wielder’ thing, anyway?” she asked.

  Considering this was daunting. He sighed and shrugged. “It’s definitely new.”

  She laughed aloud. “Well you’re very special, you know. Inheriting two unique abilities… many will be in awe of you.”

  Aldrick was sure, or at least convinced himself he saw Télia’s eyes dart up and down his body. He hoped she was thinking what he hoped she was thinking.

  “People might be in awe of me if I actually learn how to wield something,” he said self-effacingly.

  “Don’t worry, Jon will train you well. And, if you also wish to learn how to wield your blade, I can teach you a thing or two. The better you are at defending yourself, the easier my job becomes.”

  “What if you’re the one who needs defending?” he asked teasingly. “I recall it was so at Seawood Inn.”

  “True.” Télia walking up to him and placed her hands firmly on her hips. “But only after I took down the first assassin and then took a fist to the face trying to save you.”

  “… True.”

  They stood staring into each other’s eyes. Hers were like enchanted emeralds—alluring, spellbinding. His heart leapt beneath his chest, which was strange, for he was certain she had stolen it from him days earlier.

  “Both early risers I see.”

  He turned. Jon had emerged from the house and was striding toward them, donning a grand robe. It was forest green with thin strings of deep blue symbols entangling it in intricate fern-like patterns. A fine band of gold lined the hood. This he wore down, keeping visible his wild mane of hair. He looked remarkably wielder-like.

  Jon had noticed Aldrick staring.

  “My robes?” he asked, peering down at them. “Yes, well, as we are going to be wielding today I thought I may as well look the part.”

  “You most certainly do!” exclaimed Télia. “It makes you look both noble and wise, Jon.”

  “Thank you, my dear,” he replied humbly. “They have been well kept, though for far too long now. I am glad to be wearing them once again.”

  Télia took Jon by the arm. “Come, keep me company over breakfast.”

  His face lit up.

  “What a charming idea,” he said delightedly. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Télia turned back to Aldrick. “Will you join us?”

  “No thanks. I’m enjoying the sun. You go and eat.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  They left, chatting, toward the house. Aldrick remained standing alone with his bread. Although heavy thoughts lingered in the recesses of his mind, he anticipated what this new day promised—opportunity to learn how to wield… at least, begin to learn. He tried to imagine how it was done, how it might feel. He couldn’t recall feeling anything other than intense anger last night when the thunder and lightning occurred. He had done nothing physically, at least not knowingly, to induce it. Perhaps waving wands wasn’t the way to do it in the real world.

  While Aldrick pondered such things, he took time to explore the surrounding land. He wandered into the clearing, avoiding frequent patches of bog and thorn bushes. In the occasional hazard-free areas, tame mountain goat and sheep grazed. He supposed Jon was their herder and profited from their meat and milk. Further into the heart of the clearing, Aldrick stumbled across what appeared to be the remnants of a stone wall hiding within the grass. Curious, he followed it a short way to where he found a markedly large area where crumbled stones lay in ruin upon the ground, overgrown by mosses and leafless creeping vines. Some kind of fortress must have once stood here, many years ago. Intrigued by this, he decided he would ask Jon about it. When he returned he found Jon back outside by the stables.

  “It was once a watchtower,” Jon informed him, feeding the horses apples from a small sack. “Long ago, the Narathlands was a mighty, sprawling empire. This valley was the main way of passage between the capital city, Prithe, and the southern provinces. War saw the fall of the empire and the city in turn. This valley has long since been forgotten, as was the tower.” Jon finished feeding the horses and turned to Aldrick. “You may be surprised at just how rich the history of the Narathlands is. It has not always been the peaceful place it appears today.”

  “It appears?”

  “Evil lingers.”

  “So it does. I suppose that is why we are here.”

  “Yes. And why I must show you how to wield, my boy.” Jon turned and strolled toward the house.

  Aldrick followed. “Shall we begin training soon?”

  “Indeed. I suspect you are eager to learn?”

  “Very,” he replied excitedly. “I am ready when you are.”

  “Well then, just let me fetch a thing or two and we will be off. There is a secreted glade a little way into the forest where we can practice in the confidence that we shan’t draw any unwanted attention. You never know who could be wandering the mountain path—servants of the enemy perhaps!”

  Aldrick thought Jon sounded a little paranoid. “No one’s going to find us all the way out here.”

  Jon wheeled around. “Words uttered by a fool! Do not make me retell you what happened to your mother in this very place!” He stormed inside.

  Aldrick was left feeling immediate regret. The murder of his mother was a recent revelation to him. For Jon, it had been an unspeakable tragedy in his life. Jon had sought to protect her and held more resentment for her passing than could ever be understood.

  Télia, who had been relaxing on the landing, stood and came to Aldrick.

  “Don’t take Jon’s words too heavily,” she said quietly. “The many years spent alone here have given him too much time to dwell on sad things.”

  “No, it was my own fault,” Aldrick mumbled, annoyed with himself. “My words were thoughtless.”

  He made his way inside, where he found Jon removing a long, thin object wrapped in cloth from a wooden chest underneath the stairs.

  “Jon, I—” he started, but was interrupted.

  “There is no need to apologise, my boy,” Jon said briskly. “It was I who spoke out of turn. Let us put it behind us and focus on the future.” He pulled the cloth from the object. At first glance it appeared to be a walking stick, though there were notable differences. Instead of a conveniently carved grip at its head, there was a pale blue oval stone, about the size of crow’s egg. This was fastened in place upon a gold collar. The shaft was fashioned from a dark wood. A strange spiralling pattern wound from end to end, interrupted midway by a leather-bound grip.

  Aldrick gasped. “Is that—”

  “Yes, this is a staff,” said J
on, inspecting it closely. “Many years have passed since I last held it.” He took the staff firmly in one hand and brandished it before him. Aldrick saw him now as not just a wielder, but a powerful one, one whose day was far from over. “Come, let us begin.” Jon strode past Aldrick and out the door.

  He and Télia followed Jon along a narrow, overgrown trail behind the house that led them a short way through the forest to a small glade. Here, the ground was unlike that at the centre of the valley. It was level and the grass that claimed it, though overgrown, was greener, as if it had once been tended to. Near the far edge lay a collection of oddly out-of-place boulders. Some of these were cracked and, in places, black scorch marks were visible on them, noticeable only because no mosses or lichens clung to them. The trees closest to the boulders were grey and lifeless.

  “This is where I used to practise wielding,” said Jon, walking a short way into the glade and looking around. He raised his staff and waved it slowly from side to side. The grass began to rustle then, all at once, fell flat against the ground.

  Aldrick was dumbstruck.

  “Ah…” he managed, mouth gaping open.

  Jon chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. The staff is to stay with me,” he said, then, noticing Aldrick’s continued expression of awe, “it is used to intensify the effects of storm wielding.”

  “How does it do that?”

  “The shaft is fashioned from the wood of the rare lelylan tree. It conducts storm brilliantly. And the gemstone,” Jon gestured to the blue oval at the tip of the staff, “is far more efficient at emitting it than our own body. Put the two together and we have a tool that intensifies our powers significantly.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Yes, but like I said, you’re not getting your hands on it. You’re just a beginner, my boy.”

  “Then show me the way, master,” Aldrick joked.

  “Very well then.”

  Jon rested the staff on the ground, stood up and stretched, then paused all of a sudden, like he had just remembered something. “We are ahead of ourselves, Aldrick. You need to understand just what the heck storm is. We have only touched on the subject until now.” He scratched his beard and stared down thoughtfully for a time before continuing. “In truth, its nature remains peculiar and elusive. It is believed to be some kind of energy, a life-force which exists in everything… most things. It spills from the heart of this world and flows around every corner of it. If you imagine our sun—always emitting energy,” Jon performed some wild gestures with his hands, “well, that is what the heart of the world is believed to do, except the energy emitted is not only heat or light… but storm as well.”