by BJ Hanlon
Edin looked to Grent and Dephina. They slowly began to fade from the conversation as if their spirits were being exercised.
“What’s happening? What is this place?”
“So many questions young forthcoming Ecta Mastrino. We do not attack yet as the time is not right—”
“What are you waiting for?” Edin blurted. Desperation and panic were rising in his chest. His woman, his friends, his father; they were all in the city. Some maybe dead already, others minutes from dying and the elves did nothing. “Are you waiting till we all die or maybe the summer solstice where you can confer with your goddess to see if it’s okay to help?”
The old elf put up his hand. “We are waiting to coordinate. As for what is this place, you have been in cruder versions of this space between spaces before. The Callto stones and the Mage Relay towers are all versions, though this talent was given to the elves, man and magi have made crude reproductions.”
“Coordinating?” Edin asked his brain moving twice, maybe thrice the normal speed as the elf was confusing him. “Coordinating with who?”
“With you of course. You are in need of something that will help fight this demon from the underworld.”
Edin tried to stop and think. He had his sword but nothing else. He needed something else. Maybe a staff, the one that Yio Volor carried. And the stones that he’d possessed.
Forthcoming Ecta Mastrino. The words of Hyle came back to him. “Forthcoming,” Edin said, “I need to find the spirit stone.”
“Yes,” said Hyle Coroju. “You are not yet what you should be and soon you will need to be. It is the only way to defeat Yio Volor.”
“But there’s no way to know where it is? The stone could be halfway around the world,” he said suddenly feeling weak and listless as the little hope he had faded completely.
“Of course, it is not around the world. It is where you are. Well in the city at least,” said Hyle. “Do you believe in fate?”
Edin didn’t have time for this. He shook his head. “Where is—”
“Do you believe in prophecy?”
“I suppose I have to, don’t I?” Edin said. “Where is this stone?”
“That I am not sure, but you need to figure it out. Most of Yio’s army is already in the city with a few patrols around. Yio however has yet to enter. Even a god cannot read prophecy correctly. My guess is that he is waiting for your body.”
“How do you know that?”
“The same way that I know that more reinforcements are coming via the sea. Sinndilo’s army has come as well.”
Edin’s mouth opened and closed and then opened again. “So we have a chance.”
“No, not until you find the Blossom Stone. The last piece of the puzzle.”
“The city is huge, it could be anywhere…”
“That’s why I ask, do you believe in fate?”
Edin did nothing for a moment but he felt it. He felt that fate had brought him here. He nodded. What else could he say.
“Then you should be able to find it. Sinndilo’s force has surrounded the harbor. We can see their ships off the coast. We are primed and ready to attack the left flank of the enemy.”
“Well come on then. We’re dying here.”
“Remember, it will be but a distraction and mean all of our deaths unless you can find the stone.”
Edin nodded. Just another weight added to his shoulders. “Attack now, I’ll figure something out.”
Hyle nodded. “It’s all I needed to tell you.” Hyle touched his forehead and a moment later, Edin was sitting up on the floor and looking around a small, boarded up room with a single candle at the center. He saw Berka and Melian coughing near him and a young man pouring water down their throats.
Edin knew the young man and the older one that was only a few feet off to the right. Overa and his master. Creshtilor.
Edin coughed once more and looked into the old man’s eyes. “Where are we?” Edin asked.
“My home,” he replied. “And we do not have much time.”
“I know,” Edin said. He pushed himself to his feet using the wall and a chair for leverage and looked at the old man. His knees were weak and shaky, his throat felt like he’d swallowed a whole lot of sandpaper. He said. “Do you believe in fate?”
The old man chuckled. It was odd in the somber room with death around them. Then he nodded. “I do.”
“Good, I need to find the Blossom Stone. Something tells me you know—”
“The Citadel,” said the old man, though concern was now drawn over his face. “The top of the Citadel in the Inquisitor’s chambers.”
Edin nodded. “Then that’s where I need to go.” He checked his body quickly. His tunic and trousers were nearly ragged. His boots had lost a part of a heel. He was cut on his hands and could taste blood.
Overa gave him a glass of water. He wished it were whiskey or ale but Edin drank and felt a modicum of energy returning to his nearly exhausted body.
Fate. He thought. If fate or prophecy stated that he would go out there, he’d burn up to save his family, then that would be what he’d do.
“How do I get there?”
“The streets are crawling with demons,” said Creshtilor. “You’ll never make it.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” Edin said.
“You think fate will keep them off your back?”
“No, but the elves and the reinforcements from Dunbilston will,” Edin said. He adjusted his sword belt and glanced down at Berka. He nodded at his old friend who looked about as great as Edin felt. “Are you coming?”
“Of course, you blasted blotard. Wouldn’t miss it if it killed me.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Me too,” said Melian, “they killed my ma and my sister.” Edin raised an eyebrow and Melian said, “she proved she was more than a meek housewife. Though I wonder if my brother knew she was a mage?”
“Hard to keep that a secret,” said the old man and looked to Overa. The servant nodded his head “Yes.” The servant sighed and suddenly water globules began to float in the air.
“There are more of us than previously thought, hey?” said Edin.
“Many more.” Answered Master Creshtilor.
“Get to the castle if you can. Tell them of the aid coming, we’ll need time. And if you see Arianne, tell her I love her.”
The old man nodded and Edin headed toward the door. Then a moment later, he said. “Edin. I hear you use a sword and a quarterstaff.” Edin nodded.
“Try this on for size,” he said and tossed Edin one.
Edin caught it and instantly felt a few nubs and indents in it. He looked down and saw the carvings and felt a soft current of something flowing through.
“Is this?”
“An enchanted quarterstaff? Yes,” he said. “It is nearly indestructible and aides a magi’s endurance.”
Edin closed his eyes and felt it. More energy was coming into him, though it did nothing for the injuries. Edin smiled.
“Thank you,” Edin said. He held it in his left and opened the small door. They were in a back garden with a short path to a wall.
“Good luck, we’re all counting on you.” Master Creshtilor said with a sly grin.
A few motes of dust hung in the air, but most of it had settled into a fine film on the ground. Edin started toward a closed door when he began to hear skittering cries and roars coming from the other side of the wall. There was a lot of commotion and everyone suddenly seemed to be rushing toward the city walls. Away from them.
Edin smiled.
“Thank you elves,” he whispered and went to the gate. Edin cracked it open and looked down the road. The alleyway actually and saw three dematians and a trailing giant. They were headed to kill his friends and their allies.
Edin was about to step out when Berka grabbed his shoulder. “Not the time,” he said. “The Citadel is that way.”
Edin looked up into the darkness. He couldn’t see the Citadel or much e
lse in the sky. The Por Fen had purposely kept the tower dark.
The group of monsters passed, and they left the safety of the back garden.
The city was a ruin. Walls were tumbled, there were wooden structures aflame with bricks scattered all around.
They passed a crushed building that seemed to have fallen from a giant hammer blow to the spot where the wall and roof met.
Among the rubble, Edin saw a foot.
They paused at an intersection, looked for beasts and demons; there were a handful running away and toward the outer walls. Then they ran across the intersection and continued on.
Berka continued to lead. This was his adopted city and he knew the location of the Citadel having lived there for at least a few months.
Edin wasn’t sure he’d really lived in the Citadel or not. He wondered if there was another place, a tower or an open barracks where new recruits trained. Despite everything, he still had a child’s curiosity about the Por Fen.
They turned down another alley that started to wind right and then left with small patches of dirt and disgusting refuse-filled containers. Gutters lined the sidewalk and it flowed down. They followed it until they reached the river.
At the water’s edge, Edin saw the distance between the two sides. A raised bridge was a hundred yards or so upstream and another was more than halfway to the sea on the other side.
Edin looked that way and saw the castle and wondered if Dorset had gotten Arianne back. Please be safe, he prayed.
“The bridges are too exposed,” said Berka and he pointed toward a small rowboat lashed to a dock piling. It was big enough for the three of them and with the blackness of the night, they’d be able to slip across the river silently and unseen. Hopefully.
“Looks quiet,” Edin said.
“I just want to wait another moment,” Berka said as if expecting something to show itself. After the wait, Berka shrugged. “Never had much of a gut.”
They went down five steps to the dock. The wood creaked but with the river and the far-off cries of battle, Edin was certain it’d go unnoticed. Berka slipped in first and took the oars.
“You need your strength,” he said.
Melian went past Berka and Edin took the rear.
He slipped the lashings off the piling and pushed away from the dock. The boat clapped the dock in the soft current before Berka started to row.
Here the Crystalline was slow and easy and though the current carried it toward the ocean, it was so slow that they barely noticed they were heading to sea.
It was nothing like the Crys near his home. The color was darker as well, or so he heard.
Berka pulled the oars back and slapped them into the water. Overhead, Edin heard a screeching sound and a large cry. Then something came down at an angle toward them. Edin quickly ducked his head as a dark shape dropped by a few yards away and crashed into the water.
Edin gripped the staff and waited for the thing to come up.
“What in the heck was that?” Melian said with her weapon drawn.
Neither man answered her. Edin thought he saw reptilian skin but couldn’t be sure. Energy was brimming in him and a part of Edin wanted the thing to pop up so he could batter it down.
Edin saw Berka had stopped paddling now and then whispered, “I don’t think it’s coming back up.”
The oars splashed down again and they began heading further west toward the far bank. It seemed to take forever to get there.
Then there was a thump and the boat rocked slightly.
“Is that the other side?” Edin asked despite the nearest building still being twenty or so yards away.
“No,” Berka hissed. The oars were no longer in the water now and they were floating with the current.
The boat rocked again. This time harder.
“Remember the snake in the swamps?” Berka whispered.
Edin shivered. “Do not bring that up.” He pulled his sword. “How about you paddle us the heck out of here.”
“That’s a good idea,” Melian said.
The oars hit the water again. Or what should’ve been the water. There was a slap like a bare palm on a wet back. Then there was a splash of water and it covered Edin and the boat. Edin quickly reached out with the talent and felt the water and the void within it.
He sensed the thing moving through the water. It was coming toward them. Toward Berka actually.
The world slowed, though it was nearly impossible to tell with the darkness and Edin lashed out his sword.
It cleaved through flesh in a flash. A thunk hit Berka and he yelped. The thing dropped to the boat and Edin summoned an ethereal ball.
There was a rolling sound and Edin saw between Berka’s legs was the head of a great serpent-like beast. The fangs were six inches long and the eyes were the size of bottles.
Edin stood above it with blood dripping from the sword onto Berka’s leg.
“Gods,” Berka swore, “what the heck, you nearly killed me.”
“It nearly killed you,” Edin said and then saw that Berka’s hand was empty. Not one, both. “Where are the oars?”
“Dropped them. I hate the dark.”
There was a great roar from the battlefield to the north. Edin could barely see anything but he heard Yio Volor’s voice above all else. Maybe it was, “He still lives.”
If that was the case, the distraction may have failed.
The other side was still a dozen yards away and the current was bringing them further downstream and toward the center of the river.
He didn’t know how long this staff would work. Maybe it was an indefinite energy giver, or something like that, or maybe it only helped for a certain amount of time.
No matter the case, he needed to get to the Citadel.
Edin let out the ethereal ball and felt the water move beneath the boat. He took the water into the small cocoon and slowly pushed them toward the edge.
“Get ready,” Edin said.
Wood clunked the dock and Melian said, “Got it. Hurry, get out.”
Berka moved quickly, then Edin. They reached down and helped Melian out and onto the dock.
Berka led them up the nearest staircase to street level.
There was a cry out in the sky somewhere as they darted past a building that was being cooked from the inside out. The two upper windows and the double front doors made it look like a carved pumpkin with buckteeth.
There was some artsy type circle, a pentagram, in the center that gave it the nose.
Berka led them further west through darkened streets. There was rubble all about, dying people and beasts moaned. Some called out to them for help.
Edin had to ignore it.
Bricks and household goods were strewn on the cobblestone. Pages of parchment from a nearby book and writing store blew around like large flakes of snow.
It was an odor of pain in the destruction. That was the only way Edin could describe it. He tasted the dust and the flames and the death on his tongue like a sandwich made in the depths of Yio Volor’s kitchen.
A flash in the sky caught his attention. A bolt of lightning lit up a bird. A raptor and Edin saw it fall from the flock.
That flash showed him there were few left and they were in a deep battle with the firerwyrm.
Another crow from up there, one that could only be a cliff raptor. Then about twenty yards away, the thing landed on the ground with a crunch.
They ran past it and Edin said a little prayer for their aerial guardians.
A cart laden with barrels lay on the ground. One of the barrel’s cap had come off and there was a black powder pouring from it.
Edin leapt it but didn’t jump high enough. His foot clipped it and it rolled slightly, shifting the barrel and letting out more of the black powder that smelled a bit like charcoal.
“Almost there,” Berka cried out from ahead. Then they found an angled street that headed out and away from the central part of the city.
Up above there was another flash of lig
htning. Edin glanced that way hoping to see the raptors and no wyrm. But it was the other way around.
It was only the long slender figure of the firewyrm like an ancient god that made men of prehistory shake in their caves as it twisted along lithely through the sky.
Suddenly, it seemed to turn toward them with its head twisting and the mouth opening. The flash of lightning faded and Edin kept running.
“Right,” Berka cried and Edin followed him through the dim red-orange streets.
A fireball lit up the wyrm’s mouth and shot toward where he’d have been if they’d ran straight. Berka must’ve seen it too because at that moment, he ducked into the entryway of some building.
Edin took a moment to realize that they were at the perimeter of a hexagonal open square. A square with closed shops and destroyed peddlers’ wagons where the plebeians must’ve shopped in nicer days.
There were fires here and there, pyres of burning wood and crumbled bodies. A giant serpent lay dead before one of the flames. Protruding from its mouth were a pair of human legs.
Dying mid-meal was not a way to go. Edin thought morosely.
“There it is,” Berka said pointing to the other side of the square off the large avenue that tickled its northern tip. There was a small wall, maybe ten feet tall surrounding it.
“A hundred yards of open space,” Edin said, “blast.”
“Did you see that wyrm turn on us too?” said Melian her voice trailing off and trembling. Edin was certain she was hoping he’d say no.
Berka said, “I did. It was looking right at us.”
“I think Yio Volor knows—”
“Do not say that name,” Melian said, “maybe try the biggest blotard that ever lived.”
“That is quite long,” Berka said.
“Well I was never the creative type.”
They were quiet then looking out at the open market square and hearing the sounds of battle and the destruction that was being had somewhere far away.
Then bells began to ring.
Loud peals that seemed to come from the direction of the castle.
They couldn’t see it; their nook faced the opposite direction but Edin was sure it was coming from there.
Edin looked at the two of them with a raised eyebrow.