by BJ Hanlon
“I do know where, and she does live, only just.”
Edin’s heart thumped in his chest and that dizziness of great heights or too much wine came over him. “What does that mean? Where is she? Show yourself!” He screamed. He was growing scared and angry and he felt like he’d leap up and slam the whole of the earth off its axis and chuck it into the sun. It was as if he were a god.
“She is out of your reach and mine unfortunately. The dematian king holds her.”
“How’d he—? Where?” nothing he thought of, no words seemed to work in his head. Even more the pain and anger roared in him. Edin summoned a great many ethereal knives. He summoned enough to fill his hands.
Edin whipped them at the walls and windows and the altar. He saw chunks of rock crumble. His vision was growing red.
“Calm,” a voice said inside his head and something snapped. “That is how you become mad.”
Edin stumbled and blinked. He saw the room, there were pot marks in the walls, previously unseen curtains were in heaps. The altar was whole and intact.
“What do I do? Where do I go?”
“You were brought here for a reason. You must become him.”
“Brought here?” Edin thought, he flashed to the tall bridge and the stone giant, then the stone elemental. They pushed him south and then north and through a whole host of gulches and ravines. He remembered being chased, though not that fast, and he remembered the form on the mountain.
“You coerced us into coming here?”
“You really, your friend was a side effect.”
Edin swallowed. “My other friends, Grent and Dephina?”
“They made it through the pass, I watched them. They are headed north toward the place you told them to ascend the mountains. Unfortunately, they will most likely fail.”
“They’ll die?” Edin gasped. Arianne was with the dematian king and somewhere he couldn’t reach and now Grent and Dephina are going to die…
“They may die, but the elves are fleeing south. They’re getting ready to flee their valley, their home of thousands of years.”
“Why?”
“The lands are growing rotten. You’ve seen it to the north when you entered the temple of Antulete. You saw the demigod who’d grown to a lunatic.”
“He’s the elven god?”
“God is a strong word, more like protector. But he is no longer protecting, as he lost control of his mind, he lost control over his lands.”
Edin shook his head. “So, what you’re telling me is that the god of,” Edin shook his head, “sorry the protector of the elves went crazy and attacked us?”
“Yes. And now the dematian king holds that land and will use it as a tool to bring forth his master. Then all of the lands will be covered in the yellow swamp.”
“The swamps of old.”
“Forests of old really,” the man said. “That’s why we lived in the mountains.”
Edin felt his head spinning. He needed to sit on something. There were no chairs. Why? Then he asked it.
“Because they do not need chairs except for dining. Eating without a table is for heathens.”
Edin sat anyways, he rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. His mind was thumping like the beating of giant wings.
There were no words for a long while. He pictured Arianne in some torture chamber, maybe hanging from her wrists or ankles or strapped to a table with dematians hanging over her cutting bits of pieces from her to nibble on. Edin sniffed away tears. “Are you there?”
“Always.”
“Arianne is alive you say?”
“She is.”
“Why do they keep her that way? How do I find her?”
“For both questions, I do not know. I can see her. She is unharmed but it is as if her mind has been either blanked or blocked from my wave.”
Edin swallowed. Did they wipe away her mind, her thoughts… her? He wiped his eyes with just the same ease. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Well, a long time ago, a very long time ago, there was a prophecy about one who could control all the talents.”
“The Ecta Mastrino.”
“Yes.”
“I’m him.”
“Almost,” the voice said and it was now speaking and not just in his head. Edin looked up and saw the monk from before but also the hermit and the professor and the elven, or not elven, warrior. The man was moving toward him with a sort of nimbus aura about him—a glow that didn’t quite meld with the light of the moon or the now green glow of the altar.
“You have spirit, water, lightning, wind, and fire. You but require the talent over the earth, and the one that brings it together so you may save this land.”
“I’m sorry what?” Edin asked.
“You need to become the Ecta Mastrino in practice, not just in theory. You are not a university professor who spouts their knowledge but never puts it to practice.”
“I guess not.”
“No, you are not. My question for you is, are you willing to save the world or let it be destroyed? Because he is on his way and he’s going to try again. If the dematian king gets all of the Ballast Stones, he can release him.”
Edin swallowed. He knew who was on his way. He knew the demon coming up but he would not say it, he would not mention what was coming for them. Edin looked up at the man, a legend and a god.
“How do I become him, Lord Vestor?”
11
A God Blessed It…
How a god was standing before Edin was something that very nearly made him run straight at that open balcony and throw himself over. He’d flap his arms and try to fly like a bird. Maybe reach the moon and poke out the eyes of the face in it, if that were possible.
Though it didn’t seem any less possible than having Vestor in front of him at this moment. Slightly more so actually, Edin thought.
“You need to stop him from acquiring the Birth Stone. As above is below. Do you remember the cave in the Susot Valley? The one the she-elf did not wish you to go into?”
Edin nodded.
“It is part of this lake. Though the beasts in there only stay under the earth.”
“Beasts? What type of beasts?”
“Heavenly guardians.”
“God, my Lord Vestor, why do you not stop this? Why do you not just smack the dematian king off his wyrm?”
“I cannot, the gods cannot interfere even if it is our desire.”
“What of Yio, he’s interfering?”
“Not while he’s still in the Underworld.” Vestor then looked to be trying to decide something. Then the god that looked like a man took a few strides toward Edin causing him to stand. “A gift for you,” he said and Vestor put a hand on his head.
Edin felt something flowing through him. It hit him like he was standing in the surf as a huge wave came at him. Things fluttered through him like he was watching his life float by. Visions, worlds, people, and things. He saw dematians attacking a stout wooden wall. Men on top beating them back with spears and swords and arrows. Merik was there, he and a couple other Por Fen were running to the areas where the demons had overpowered the defenders. There were shouts of ‘help’ and ‘onward you blotards.’
He saw a family, a young girl and terrified parents, huddled in a corner as something banged at their door.
The vision changed to a city. A very familiar one. Coldwater. The city was almost completely gone. All but the keep. And walking down an empty road with a bunch of dogs was a single warrior. A Foci Dun Bornu warrior.
Then he saw the boat. Dorset, Rihkar, and Henny were standing at the bow and whispering in soft tones as the ship sped through the ocean with a speed that didn’t seem natural.
And he saw Grent and Dephina as they rode their horses north. They were out of the mountains now, that was good. On their faces was a look of quiet determination. That and sadness.
Finally, it came to him, the vision that he’d been most wanting… most needing. The one of her.
A
rianne. She was in the dark corner of a tiny room on an uncomfortable looking stone slab. There was nothing around her. She was just as lovely, though she was pale. Ghostly pale and her hair, blonde normally, was nearly white. He couldn’t see her chest moving.
Was she even breathing? There was little light in the room from some unknown source. Edin tried but couldn’t reach out to her, he couldn’t speak or move or look to see anything but what was before him.
He saw she still wore her cloak, though her pack, her bow, and everything else was gone. The top of her shirt was torn and the necklace that had held the three ballast stones had been taken as well.
He thought he’d be crying or screaming or dancing but Edin was a statue. Just seeing her, knowing she was alive was a greater feeling than he’d ever thought possible. He was speechless, thoughtless, he just stared.
Then, as if being pulled out of a lake by the scruff of the neck, Edin was sucked back into reality.
When people in the past had told Edin that someone collapsed because of news, Edin hadn’t believed them. To have something told to you and lose all control of your body, it just wasn’t possible.
Even when he heard about her engagement to that blotard, he was able to at least lower himself to the ground. He didn’t flop like a fish out of water.
He was not able to lower himself now. Edin cried out and dropped to the floor like every bone had been plucked from his body.
Edin didn’t move, he didn’t try to stop himself from turning into a blubbering old lady whose kids had finally left her for being far too overbearing. Then his body tumbled like a fallen tree and he landed on his shoulder, his head smacking the red floor. The wall cradled his back and after a long time, he did not know how long, he slowed and finally stopped. Edin didn’t know if it was from lack of tears or if it just started to hurt less. Probably the former.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. In front of him was the underside of his forearm and the small hairs growing there. Not thick, but they were there. Edin blinked. The side of his face was wet as was the ground beneath it. Edin peeled it off and slowly began to rise.
He looked around for Vestor. How could that be truly the god? But Edin knew it was and that now, he was gone. The room was empty and cold. The door was shut and the moon had lowered.
Edin still didn’t stand. He looked out the doors and past the balcony at the moon and just stared.
At one point, his butt seemed to fall asleep. So he got up and moved toward the balcony and looked out it. Below was the foyer of this secretive land, the stables, the shed, and the fields. Then there were the huge stone walls. From here there was no parapet, there was no turrets to look out of. Only the walls as if they were protected by something else. And then much further he saw the stairs to the valley.
This was the view. The one from his dream. And he was called here by Vestor. Called here for what?
Down below, it was dark but there was still movement visible. The lake was rippling from something crossing it either at or just below the surface. There were creatures lying on the bank in the moonlight. But he was too far away to know what they were.
This was somehow a place that shouldn’t exist. Not in what he perceived the mountains to be and where the pass was; it was impossible.
He pictured Arianne on that slab of stone in the cold room. The light was similar; she was under the same moon.
Edin wiped his eyes. They felt sticky at the corners and he was sure they were red, but he was okay. At least for now. He’d cried all he could.
“Not again, not till I find her,” he vowed. But she was in that other’s capture. The dematian king who wanted to release Yio Volor.
Something caught his eye. He watched it float down from somewhere up to the right. It looked square and seemed light. Slowly, he saw it was a piece of parchment paper. It moved right past the open window and within a half a foot of Edin.
He grabbed it.
‘Lorno died beneath this monastery.’ Was all it read and Edin shivered because he knew what that meant. It had to be the reason he was summoned here, the reason there were guardians and the way to get Arianne back and save the world. One spot where no dematian king can reach but where the prophesized Ecta Mastrino must go.
Edin pocketed the note and started back down the stairs. He passed a monk who was heading up. The monk gave him a quizzical look. Edin reached his own floor and ran across the grounds to his cell. Edin opened the door and grabbed his sword. He strapped it on his belt and picked up the quarterstaff.
As he took a step out, he saw Berka opening his door. His friend looked confused.
“Where are you off to?”
“The dangerous parts.”
“Of course you are.” Berka sighed and held up an open palm telling him to wait. “Let me get my sword.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“When you do something stupid, so do I,” Berka called back as he strapped the greatsword to his back.
Edin nodded and they started toward the stairwell.
They followed it down, but it stopped at the first floor. “Blast it,” Edin said.
He exited in a long corridor and followed it. They passed open doors with monks inside. Some were sleeping, others were writing, and one it looked like was painting a picture of a landscape. There were rolling hills and blooming flowers and a river that came to the very edge of the painting and looked like it was about to pour out of it.
The monk gasped and covered it.
“Thought they weren’t much for decoration,” Berka said.
“Everyone’s got a creative side, if they just embrace it,” Edin shrugged.
They continued down the corridor until they reached another door. Through it was another corridor.
“Do you know how we’re going to get there?”
“No,” Edin said calmly. He was completely turned around even though they’d only gone through three halls and down a single flight of steps.
This place was confusing as any place he’d ever been.
A monk stepped out. Their guide monk. He appeared as if out of nowhere, which was not right because there was a door next to him that Edin couldn’t see.
“Awake I see and dressed for battle. Is there somewhere you wish to go?”
Edin cleared his throat. “Down below. I need to see where Lorno died. I need to face the guardians.”
The man made no expression of awe or shock. In Edin’s mind he heard, ‘it is unwise.’
“Take me to the abbot,” Edin said allowed. “Let him be the judge.”
The man simply walked past Edin without a word and back through the previous door, turned left through a different one, then right and another left before there were stairs.
Edin’s head was spinning again. There was a distinct possibility that if he ever got separated and never saw another monk, he’d die in here of dehydration, hunger, or just frustration.
Then he stopped at a door. Just as plain and simple as the others. There was no knock and after a moment, the monk opened the door.
“The abbot will see you.”
Edin stepped past the monk into a cell the same as Edin’s, though the pallet was on the other side.
“You wish to venture below and meet the guardian,” the abbot said. “No one has done it since—”
“Lorno,” Edin said. “Who hid the Ballast Stones.” He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to him.
The abbot took a look at the paper, looked up at Edin, and then back down for just a moment. He sighed and said, “I cannot believe he showed himself to you.”
“We conversed,” Edin said hoping that he could get going now. And that did it.
“You wish to go as well?” The abbot was looking at Berka. Berka nodded. He looked at the other monk. “Take them to the gate and stand guard.” Then he turned back to Edin. “If you fall, we may never find you.”
“It is a chance I must take.”
The abbot shook his head. �
�Some days I don’t know if he is all there anymore.” Then he looked around as if he were going to be struck down at any moment.
“Who are we talking about?” Berka asked.
No one answered him.
After a moment, the monk said, “Okay, this way,” and they followed him out. It was just as confusing, but they reached a door with a coldness coming from below and Edin had a feeling there were more stairs on the other side. He wondered if there were more stairs here than anywhere else in the world.
Through it they began down. It took more than a half hour for them to reach the bottom of the switchback staircase. They met a door with three giant bolts across it. One at the base, one at the middle and a third at the top.
The room itself held an almost wicked feeling. It reminded Edin of a graveyard or a torture chamber. There was a barred window through which to look, but on the other side was naught but darkness. “This is as far as I go,” the monk said as he lit a torch on the wall. “It is not a good place down here.”
Both he and Berka nodded.
The odor grew worse as the door was opened and the feeling became more than just oppressive. Edin took a torch from the wall, lit it with the monk’s, then paused. He took a deep breath and stepped in first.
The room was a thick, lichen covered stone tunnel with an arch about ten feet off the ground. Unlike the dwarven tunnels, this was made from separate stone blocks and the flame reflected off the floor that was slightly damp like sweat on a farmer midday.
Then something caught his eye. In a crack, he saw puddled water. Only it didn’t shine like water should. It had a green tint to it.
A great gust of wind ran through. It sounded like a sigh from a giant and Edin felt the hairs standing on his neck. Was that one of the guardians?
They pressed forward; their footsteps were the only sounds in the tunnel.
Then it split into two: one left, one right. Edin saw more water with the green tint to it. It seemed a bit brighter. An emerald color. Then he noticed something, only with his sight not with his feeling: the water rippled.