Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands

by Daniel White

  One—evidently their leader—stepped forth and bowed. They all followed suit. This was what Malath had dreamed of—being looked up to, being revered. Not devalued and treated like simple human scum.

  He raised his hands. “Warriors of ages past, breathe the air of a new dawn!”

  They roared ever more fervently at this. He signalled for silence.

  “I have granted you life. Now, do my bidding and take it from the humans that plague this land, for they are undeserving. No doubt you bear deep resentment of them. Do you not wish rabid revenge upon them for driving you from your homeland? For driving you to extinction? Go now and have it. Begin with their city in the west. Slaughter them all!”

  The Sanswords’ battle cries were deafening. They turned and began marching swiftly toward Galdrem. Malath watched them go, feeling wholly powerful.

  He turned to his faithful, who had been spectators of the army’s awakening. They eyed him now, in silence, nodding their heads in recognition as his gaze crossed them. Dron and Selayna were nearest to him, expressions of admiration upon their faces. His captives remained huddled under his warding enchantment. He bore down on them.

  “So will you stand with me, or do you remain blind and foolish?” he asked.

  They failed to reply. Malath could see that their hearts were sunken. Perhaps these remaining few truly were a lost cause… perhaps he should be rid of them. No, not yet. He would allow them one final chance. He stood straighter.

  “Wielders, no longer are you imprisoned. You may move freely. But choose your actions wisely. Any harm you deal upon my allies, I can reverse in the blink of an eye. I implore you to align yourself with me. It is the wisest choice and it is your only choice.”

  Devéna shot him a vicious glance.

  “Not a chance,” she said, stressing every word.

  Malath sighed. He held fond memories of this old hag. She had once been his tutor at Delthendra and had avidly supported his bid to become the minister. Now she stood before him, refusing his kindness. She would pay dearly for it, as would her gutless friends.

  Just as he had chosen how he would end them—by imploding their rib cages and crushing their organs, Dron stepped forward.

  “My Lord, you will let me have my revenge, will you not?” he asked. “That one is mine.” Dron pointed at Jon, the insolent wielder who had robbed him of life.

  Malath chuckled. “Ah yes, of course Dron. He is all yours.”

  Dron curled his lip and marched straight up to Jon. He might have looked ominous had he not been half the wielder’s height. “For you, there shall be no returning.” His voice trembled with hatred.

  Jon heaved a sigh of indifference. “Go on then, Dron. May it bring you satisfaction.”

  “Enough of this triviality,” snarled Aashkara. “This temple is mine now. I shall not be kept from destroying it any longer. Deal with those wielders elsewhere.”

  Selayna turned and looked Malath in the eye. “Yes Brother, must we not tend to this dragon before settling other matters?”

  “Indeed.” Malath raised a hand. “Dron, hold for a moment.”

  Dron stepped away from the wielder. “Fine.”

  Malath looked up at the misguided dragon. “Aashkara, go now, see your kin are freed.”

  Aashkara snorted, then turned and trudged toward the temple.

  “Now. Do it now, Brother,” Selayna muttered in his ear. “Return that monster to the Life Afterwards.”

  Malath raised the Shard in his hand… Aashkara stopped in her tracks. He too hesitated. Was she conscious of his deceit? The dragon’s head turned, but her attention did not fall upon him. She instead looked out across the sunken land toward the long spine of the Mountains Nemduran. He followed her gaze. There, in the distant sky, was a huge creature flying toward them. It was another dragon! How was this possible? Had Aashkara secretively summoned some accomplice to aid her? Apparently, this wasn’t so.

  The dragon gasped. “It cannot be.”

  Malath lowered the Shard.

  “Aashkara, what is this?” he demanded.

  “I cannot say in certainty,” she said. “But it appears you may have need of me yet, wielder. An olden enemy of mine approaches. And, if my keen eyes are not mistaken, he is accompanied by humans, and one of your own kin. I imagine that their cause conflicts not only with my own.” She glared at him through fiery narrowed eyes.

  The approaching dragon brought with it humans and a wielder? Malath wondered who they could possibly be. If Aashkara was correct in thinking that they had quarrel with him, it was a problem. The powers the Shard gave him were not enough to defeat a dragon whose soul was not already his to toy with. She was right. He still needed her help. This irritated him immensely. It was a complication that wasn’t meant to be happening, and how could it be? Where had this dragon come from? Had it traversed the plains of time? It should be dead! It should be fragments of dry bone, dust on the wind! The one fortunate thing was that it was Aashkara’s adversary.

  “You will kill this dragon if it’s the last thing you do,” he ordered.

  “Indeed I shall,” Aashkara replied keenly. “I will crush him.” She braced herself and roared thunderously in its direction.

  Everyone was now watching the second dragon approach. There were apprehensive murmurings amongst his faithful few. They were fearful. Dron and Selayna both shot him glances, seeking reassurance. Malath had none to offer. He secured the Shard in a pouch on his belt. With it there, he could safely wield its storm. Somehow that storm no longer comforted him as much as it had. He felt hot and flustered. A drop of sweat trickled from his brow.

  18

  GAMBLE OF THE FATES

  Illumir had not reacted to the dragon’s roar. In fact, he had been silent for the entirety of the journey. He was likely harried by uncertainty, and fairly so. They all were. The chasm down which the dragon’s foes had been banished loomed ahead—a vast, hazy gouge in the landscape. There, at its edge, towered the temple Darkna. Upon its court the awakened dragon watched them approach. Near it were a number of figures whom Aldrick couldn’t identify from afar. Many were wielders though, as they wore robes of various shades. One of them was surely Malath.

  It appeared that they were arriving at the eleventh hour. Events had already been set in motion. To their right, Aldrick could see an army shrouded by dust, marching toward Galdrem. Soon it would reach the surrounding villages. They were Sanswords. Their presence told that Malath already had the Shard of Heart’s Storm in his grasp. Fortunately, the greater threat to the entire world was yet to be unleashed—the dragon had not yet broken the seal holding its kin at bay. They could only pray that Illumir possessed the might to impede it. It looked much larger than he was.

  Malath, Aldrick wanted all to himself. The wielder was to pay for all his villainy! Most of all, he was to pay for taking his parent’s lives. He was to pay the dearest price.

  Télia’s arms tightened around Aldrick. Her body felt cold. He was unsure if this was because of the harsh wind hurtling past, or because she was terrified. He took her hands and warmed them.

  Illumir began to descend upon the court. As he neared, Malath’s dragon took steps back, but not out of caution. It was merely granting Illumir space to land. Its leviathan face was one of pure loathing. Aldrick glanced at their audience. Jon was among them. His heart jumped. Jon was still alive! And it appeared that he was accompanied by a friend or two! Aldrick raised a hand in greeting. The others in the gathering were not allies. Behind their expressions of awe and alarm was bitterness and blind hatred. This was most telling on the face of a tall, aging wielder dressed in dark purple robes. It was Malath. There was no doubt. He stood as a self-righteous commander would. Aldrick felt a fire suddenly rage inside him, synchronous with a surge of storm. He wanted to attack the worthless murderer right now! But he knew that words must first be shared. There was the safety of his companions to consider also. He hadn’t the freedom to be reckless.

  Illumir landed lightly, t
hen lowered a wing to allow them down. Aldrick stood, wielded a warding wall between them and Malath, then turned to Télia and Kaal. “Stay behind me, all right. Promise me you won’t go intentionally blundering into harm’s way, even if I’m done-in.”

  Kaal nodded. “Suits me, Brother.”

  Télia frowned. “Aldrick, I’m your—”

  “I relieve you of duty,” Aldrick interrupted. “I need you alive more than anything, damn it!”

  Her frown became a smile. “You’re just an idiot. Why do I even bother?”

  He returned her smile, vividly aware that it might well be the last time he was ever able to, then took a breath and made his way down onto the court.

  “Aldrick, I will watch over you and your humans,” Illumir said calmly. “You must not rely on me, though. My winged foe will keep me from that foul wielder at any cost. If he falls, so does she.” His and the red dragon’s eyes were locked.

  Aldrick nodded. “Thanks, Illumir. You can best her. I know you can.”

  The dragons now wrathfully bore down on each other and a fierce dispute erupted that sounded like an ocean-born tempest. They took to the skies. Aldrick turned and faced Malath. The wielder stood staring back at him with an expression of puzzlement upon his ashen face.

  “You,” he muttered, taking steps forward to survey Aldrick more closely. “I know who you are… yes, yes… I can see it in your face. You are the Aedimons’ child.” He sneered, then turned to address his companions. “It appears this untimely interruption brings with it a small fortune!” he exclaimed. “An opportunity to see Isobel’s child out of this world myself.” There was some dutiful sniggering and jeers but most eyes were on the skies, watching the dragon’s feud unfold. Malath turned slowly back to face Aldrick, a deathly smirk painted on his face. Suddenly, Aldrick felt very small. Malath had a strikingly sinister presence. He was evil, deeply hate-filled.

  Aldrick attempted to stow his nerves. “I haven’t come so you can see me out of this world, Malath. I am here to avenge my parents. It is your life that will be taken… by me.”

  “Oh,” said Malath contemptuously. “Oh I see. You are trying to be the hero, just as they did.” He scowled. “I killed both of them! Your father I turned to ashes on this very ground. And your mother… we found her in her little valley hideaway. My faithful held her down and I slit her throat. Slowly.” His deathly expression became one of contemplation. “You must have been nearby that day… a discarded infant.”

  Rage seared through Aldrick like wildfire. Once more the urge to strike was near overwhelming. He looked across at Jon. Jon looked back with an expression that told he was ready for conflict. His frail fists were clenched.

  “Tell me, how it that you come to be here today?” Malath asked. “That dragon—you found it somewhere? That accursed stone was a part of it, wasn’t it?” He crossed his arms and chuckled. “Please tell me you weren’t planning to try what your mother did. You have not the will to take my storm from me.”

  “Yes, I found the dragon and yes, the Halfstone was once part of it.” Aldrick stood straight. “But I don’t think you heard me—I have come for your life. I care not for your storm.”

  Malath’s eyes narrowed. “Oh but you ought to care. The Shard has ascended my power to new heights. You are a pittance before me. I will smite you down!”

  Aldrick knew the situation was dire. Just what exactly had he planned to do? He was an ant and Malath was a very large boot. He looked up. Illumir and his adversary circled each other cagily. Their dispute had not yet become violent. He doubted it would be so for much longer.

  As if he had somehow sensed the imminent peril below, Illumir suddenly dived and landed again on the court. The dragon rounded on Malath. “You—do you truly intend to battle my friend whilst you possess such deviant power? You must be foul indeed.”

  “Silence, lizard!” retorted Malath. “With or without the Shard I could snap this whelp in two.”

  “Is that so? Then why don’t you prove it?” Illumir opened his jaws.

  Malath reeled back and grasped a pouch that was attached to his belt.

  “No!” he cried. “Aashkara, stop this!”

  The great red dragon was already in a dive. She swooped down on Illumir and lunged for his neck. Illumir was quick to evade. Suddenly a flickering green object flew from Malath’s pouch which the dragon devoured. It was the Shard of Heart’s Storm!

  “No, NO!” Malath hurled a raging fireball at Illumir. It struck his chest but failed to scorch his stone exterior. Illumir ignored the attack, for now he was caught in a ferocious clash with Aashkara.

  “Brother!” A woman draped in blue scurried up to Malath. It was his sister, Selayna. She was hysteric. “Brother, the Sanswords!”

  Malath whirled around and looked across the land toward Galdrem. The dust which the Sanswords had stirred was lifting, revealing that the army had all but disappeared—returned to the Life Afterwards. He let out a cry of anguish. “I cannot sustain their life without the Shard! The dragon robbed me of it!”

  A number of Malath’s followers were fleeing. They feared his loss of power and control. Their faithfulness was not as strong as he might have hoped! This was the opportunity they needed. The battle ground had been levelled, save for the fact that Malath’s power remained unequalled.

  Aldrick turned to Télia and Kaal. “Keep your distance, both of you. This will be a clash of storm.”

  “No, fool, remember Jon’s teachings. Wield your weapon and your storm as one.” Télia looked at him with an expression of both affection and terror.

  Aldrick turned away. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. “If you are to fight, fight only aeras. Have no quarrel with the wielders. Look out for each other. If you are injured call out to be healed… don’t die.” He drew his sword and faced Malath. The filth and his sister were still lamenting the losses of the Shard and prized army. Now Aldrick glanced across at Jon. Calmly, Jon looked back and gave a single, subtle nod. He and his friends were ready.

  Aldrick knew that he had little chance of defeating Malath if he held onto the anger which seethed inside him, as much as it might stoke his storm. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the afternoon air. He let all sound fade into the background. The roaring and booming of the dragons became muffled murmurs. He pictured his mother’s grave in his mind, felt soft golden grass beneath his feet. The flower he had placed on her headstone was still there, fresh and open. The sun was warm, the breeze, cool. He turned around. She and Gilthred stood together in the middle of that crystal clear tarn. They were beaming at him. He smiled back. That same sense of clarity that he had felt after first finding the grave washed over him. Now his storm truly surged within him. It was strong. He opened his eyes.

  “Malath!”

  Malath stopped speaking with his sister and slowly twisted to face Aldrick. His dark eyes flashed. He drew his own one-handed blade and gripped his staff in the other.

  “Well, Aedimon, what are you waiting for?” he yelled savagely.

  Aldrick charged at him. In the same moment Jon and his two friends moved on Selayna and Malath’s remaining allies. Aldrick’s blade became fire in his hands, its metal white hot. Malath stood fast, inviting him to strike. He swung at him with all his might. Malath crossed sword and staff before him, forging a warding wall. As Aldrick’s blade struck it, lightning erupted from the tip and lashed at Malath. There was a succession of bright blue flashes and the wielder’s staff disintegrated. He staggered back, shaken.

  “Ah, your father’s trickery,” he spat, hastily recomposing himself. “I might have known!”

  Now he attacked. A wall of ice struck Aldrick, throwing him across the court. Its sting was agonizing but his hardened nerves made it tolerable. Almost instinctively, he healed himself and found his feet.

  “Strong, aren’t you!” exclaimed Malath, advancing on him. “The same cannot be said for your parents. Those two were pitiable. They were nothing without those special little ab
ilities of theirs. Your mother stole my powers from me because she was afraid, as you should be. I am almighty and I will destroy you as I did them!” He hurled a raging fireball at Aldrick, who leapt out of its path in the nick of time.

  In the corner of his eye, Aldrick saw Télia and Kaal engaged in combat with enemy aeras. He had to take this fight away from them. He bolted for the temple.

  “Where are you going, whelp?” Malath pursued him.

  Aldrick felt gravity working against him but persisted forward, determined to keep Malath’s attention from the others. He sped through the hall, across dust and ruin. Ahead of him, stairs wound up around an abandoned altar. He scaled them and found himself on a huge terrace that overlooked the chasm. He wheeled around. Malath appeared.

  “Nowhere to hide now, is there?” he snarled.

  Aldrick raised his sword. “Come on!”

  Malath lunged at him. Their swords met and fire erupted between them. Malath’s fury was fierce, his storm potent. The flames edged closer to Aldrick, licking at his cloak.

  Suddenly Malath leapt back. “What… what is this? You’re trying your mother’s trick now, aren’t you?! Do you not think that is cheating, whelp?”

  Aldrick realised he had briefly drained some of Malath’s storm. Now he felt weak. Wielding the ability had depleted his own.

  “It wasn’t cheating,” he said. “If so, only as much as bringing things back from the dead is.”

  Malath snorted. “It is my right to do so. I am divinity, with or without the power of the Shard. You on the other hand… you are lesser. You cower behind power that you are unworthy of!” There was a tone of anger in his voice now.

  “Tell me then—who is worthy?”

  “Those who look up to me.”