by BJ Hanlon
In between the pulses, he saw it was a light purple though it could’ve easily been mistaken for an off colored diamond.
His heart raced in his chest and his mouth went dry. Edin felt himself leering like a creepy old man at a beautiful young girl. But Edin couldn’t help it.
All sounds and smells and feelings were gone. All notion of the outside had disappeared and Edin was in that moment staring at the Ballast Stone. The last stone of the set; the one, the rest were named for.
It was a stone unlike any he’d ever seen. He put his face as close as possible to the small, clear case without actually touching it. He looked around the left side and then right side of it and saw it was perfectly round like a ball and was at least thrice the size of any of the other stones.
Then he began to hear a small, thrumming sound. It was coming from the stone and then with it, a buzz.
Edin blinked and saw the stone in his vision. He could feel the energy coming from it; the energy stored in it. The stone was as if it were not just a stone; but something else entirely. Like it had its own consciousness.
He reached out with both hands and extended his fingers and thumb slowly and methodically like a naturalist examining a new, previously unknown species of animal. He closed his hands on the glass case. Edin was half expecting a shock, like rubbing your hair for too long and then touching a person, but there was nothing.
The glass felt normal. It could’ve been made by any glass maker in the world. Edin slowly lifted it up and over the top of the glowing purple stone that sat upon a small stand of some sort.
“That’s not an amethyst,” Edin whispered as he gazed deeply at the now bare stone. He blinked and looked again noticing that not only were there no ridges, there were no markings of any kind. It was as if no tool had ever touched it.
That was impossible, it was perfectly round and things like that did not form naturally.
Then there was a great whistling sound that somehow ripped him from his gawking. Edin perked up.
There was but a moment before he felt the huge rumbling and rocking of the Citadel. Edin fell to the side, he reached out to catch himself but was only able to catch the scepter. He fell into the shelf and tilted it as a few large leather purses, each rattling of metal, slid into him with painful force.
Above him things crashed and shattered.
Edin slipped and more purses began to pour onto him with vengeance. Edin pulled himself up and then another slammed his noggin and he fell forward. He blinked and rolled over as coins spilled to the floor.
Edin looked up toward the stone and saw it was gone. He scrambled to his feet and nearly fell back down with the unstable coin mounds beneath his feet.
He began to look around, trying to see the pulsing and hear the thrumming of the Ballast Stone. Then he searched the ground, around the left side of the shelf, then the right and saw only the coins. Edin searched the base. His chest pounded worse than when he’d first seen it. I lost it. He thought. I lost the last, best chance we have to save our people.
He sat back and then, out of the corner of his eye, covered mostly by a velvet coin purse, Edin saw the pulse. He spun and saw it. Edin ripped the purse away, flinging it into the wall and reached for the thrumming stone.
Edin snatched it up in his palm and instantly could see through the backside of his hand. Edin held it there for a moment. He saw through skin and bone and into the stone. Edin’s eyes widened and he felt his heart pulsing in time with the purple light.
Outside, just on the edge of his awareness, there was another thundering boom and the Citadel rocked again though Edin barely acknowledged it.
Something was happening to him. The glow began to rise up his arm slowly like an ant crawling toward its underground lair.
It rose faster and his mind didn’t work. Suddenly he’d forgotten everything that was around, everything that was happening and for a moment, who he was.
The glow surrounded him then like the culrian shield though it wasn’t as physical. It was more like an aura.
The light grew brighter and brighter until it was all he could see and then before him stood a figure in dark robes with a gray beard.
Next to him was another and another. People that looked just enough like their worldly depictions, for the depictions to be considered interpretations. Though it was not enough for the people to be unrecognizable.
Maybe people wasn’t the right word.
There were more of them than Edin remembered, the gods and goddesses. The main gods were easy. Losilin, the father god stood before him. Estoolin, Losilin’s other brother held a mischievous look, Vipastio drank from a wine goblet and as always seemed a bit drunk; Nelput stood next to his boar and Gorto wore a great tunic of snakeskin. It was a snakeskin that shined like no other skin ever had nor ever would again.
“Um… hello?” Edin said but none of the gods acknowledged him. “I’m Edin.” He paused. “My gods.” Still nothing. In fact, Edin noticed they weren’t even looking at him, they were looking through him, or behind him, and Edin slowly turned around.
Edin turned and saw Vestor though he wasn’t like the other gods, he was on the earth, or at least a spiritual representation of him was. He was glowing with an ethereal light as he walked the battlefield.
Next to him, quite a bit smaller and seemingly unaware that he was there, was a great bearded warrior and a thin, wiry woman who fought with two long knives. He saw elves there too as they fought a great many beasts.
There was a howl and suddenly from the woods rushed a great number of dogs.
No, not dogs, wolves. More dire wolves and at the front was Bliz and just next to him, a tan-skinned warrior from the north. They ran with an aura of white that seemed unnatural.
Their spirit. The spirit of Vestor and all living things.
“My son has always taken sides against Yio.” A woman’s voice said beside him, “both of them still live partially in this world, and partially in their own.”
Edin turned to see a beautiful woman with a flock of golden hair and bright blue almond eyes. Her face was round with high cheekbones. She smiled at him and Edin noticed pointed ears.
“You’re an elf?”
“I am.”
“But you said you’re Vestor’s mother.”
“They are not mutually exclusive.”
Edin blinked and looked back at the gods and then at the battle. Many of the wolves were getting beaten down. Many elves as well. Somehow amidst the chaos, he saw the she elf that had first helped him in the valley all that time ago.
“She is a relative of yours, very distant.”
“You mean…” Edin paused, “I’m part elf?”
“All magi are,” she said, “though it is a very small part these days.”
Something clicked in his head, “are you Antulete.”
“Most people forget me and many don’t even realize I exist or believe I to be someone completely different.” She smiled though as if it didn’t matter. Heck to her, it probably didn’t.
“Right,” Edin said, “I should probably get—”
“You are the last of his line young Edin de Yaultan. It is not something that he wants to be true but it is something that is true.”
“What is that?”
“The prophecy.”
Edin swallowed and nodded. The lines of the prophecy washed through his head. He could spout those blasted words drunk and backward after being spun around like a stone in a sling for hours.
“Well then, you must go now. My son will not be able to give them strength much longer. Especially as the swamps of the underworld approach.”
Edin didn’t have to look to know she was telling the truth.
She started to turn and Edin said, “wait, am I the…” his voice caught in his throat for a moment, “the Ecta Mastrino?”
A smile came to her face. “Help save this world and we shall know,” she said.
A moment later, he was in a dark room that was no bigger than a close
t in certain homes. Edin glanced down at the purple stone in his palm. It was no longer pulsing though Edin felt little difference. Maybe a bit smarter, though Dorset would probably say the difference was negligible.
Above him, Edin saw open sky, it was dark and all around there were broken bits of metal and stone. A great gust of wind whipped continuously by the open air above him. Edin reached out and touched the ladder. He felt the coldness of a winter’s day though it was already becoming summer.
Edin grabbed the quarterstaff and climbed up.
As soon as his head reached the top of the stairs, he saw everything that had been up there, the artifacts, the books, the dematians, and even the former Inquisitor de Demar and his, whatever she was, were gone.
It was as if someone had cut the top off with a knife and then swept clean anything that remained.
All that stuff that was so valuable to civilization and hidden in the high reaches of the Citadel for a thousand years was gone. Scattered through the city and maybe to the far ends of the world. Much he knew, would never be found, though he would search for Merik’s and Madi’s bodies if he had the chance.
He owed them that.
A wind whistled by him and through him but it didn’t, even for a moment, feel like it’d push him over or even that he was fighting it in anyway.
Edin closed his eyes and felt it as well as the stone beneath his feet; he felt electricity and water in the atmosphere and the fires down below.
Edin stepped forward, but it didn’t feel much like stepping. It was more like gliding. He reached the edge and looked down. There he stood at the edge of the world above a drop that would’ve make him dizzy not long ago. It reminded him of looking over the edge of the great cliffs.
At that moment, he noticed his vision was improved. He could see further and extremely clearly and even the darkness held little back from him. He could see the ruined city, crumbled buildings, and great fires. Beyond the walls he saw the battles amidst the flames. There were bodies everywhere, man, dematian, and beast.
In the sky, there were no more primevals, only cliff raptors and Edin saw the faint ethereal aura around them and all of their allies.
But around the dematians, there was a black aura and there was a point when the two collided. At that spot, they turned a putrid gray.
He heard, as clearly as if they were next to him, the screams of the injured and the war cries of the brave. The smell of burning flesh and wood and grass met his nostrils.
Edin closed his eyes and took a step.
His stomach leapt into his chest as he fell quickly down the side of the tall building.
The Citadel wasn’t a perfect cylinder, it gradually, very gradually narrowed as it rose. It did so slightly that it was difficult to tell from the ground.
As he fell, he felt his tunic brush the wall. With a small, steady wind, Edin buffeted himself forward and away.
It was almost as if he were gliding.
After nearly a minute of letting the wind whip his hair, more from desire than it being affected by the physical world.
Edin landed hard in the center of the small square with a smack. Dust and debris flew out from around him as if he’d splashed into a calm pond.
He rose and looked around. There were bodies to his right and left, mostly Por Fen monks, but a few dematians and one wyrm.
Or at least a headless body of the wyrm. Then Edin saw the head a few feet away and coming from behind it were boots.
Ones that looked extremely familiar.
“Berka,” he shouted, and his voice seemed to pound out into the air like a gong. He sprinted over, or glided, and found his friend.
Half of his body was burned and charred, there was a great slash across his chest that still bled but his eyes were open. Berka moved his mouth but his lips looked dry as a towel on a wash line in summer.
He tried licking them but grimaced instead.
“Wa… ta…” he moaned and Edin instantly summoned a perfectly round cup of water before him. It was crystal clear and shimmered in the firelight. With barely a thought, he put it to his friend’s lips and poured the water. It never seemed for a moment that it was draining.
“Edin,” Berka said, “my father. You killed him.” It was more of a statement than an answer.
Edin nodded, he remembered when Yio had shown him what he’d done. Berka must’ve seen it but said nothing.
“He was dying. I couldn’t do anything for—”
Berka raised a hand up to silence him. He licked his now very moist lips and looked at Edin. “Do for me,” he said.
Edin looked at his friend, his oldest and closest friend with shock. He shook his head as tears welled up in his eyes. Somewhere near him, something exploded, and a building crumbled to the ground. Edin didn’t care about that.
“You’re not dying. I can heal—”
“I killed the wyrm,” he said and nudged the greatsword that was leaning on his thigh. “Took its head off—” he began to cough, heavily and heartily and blood was coming from his mouth and nose. “Tell El that I love—” Berka’s eyes looked up and a smile came over him. Then his eyes dulled and he said no more.
“Berka,” Edin said and shook him, “Berks.” He shook him again but there was no response. Edin grabbed his burnt hand and squeezed. Charred skin slid off and again, Berka said nothing. “Berka!” He roared and there was a boom that escaped his lips.
Edin drooped his head, closed his eyes, and cried.
For a good long while, he didn’t move at all. He also didn’t hear the battle or the city crumbling like a dry tea cake.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, then arms reached around his waist in a hug. Both seemed to squeeze at the same time and a sweet voice spoke in his ear. “Edin,” Arianne said, “we need you.”
“Come on my friend,” Dorset said, “people are dying. We have to stop this blotard. We have to do it for the ones we lost…”
There was a moment of clarity and Edin nodded slowly and wiped his eyes. He saw his friend’s blade on the ground and picked it up and placed it over his chest. Then he crossed his friend’s arms and reached up to close those big, dumb, but kind eyes. Another tear fell.
“I’ll finish it,” he said and with the help of Dorset and Arianne, he stood. Arianne hugged him again and kissed his cheek.
“I need you to be safe,” Edin said when they broke apart. “Both of you.”
“Well, I need you to be safe also,” said Arianne, “instead you’re going to fight a god—”
“It doesn’t sound safe,” Dorset interrupted.
“I suppose not.” Edin reached down and touched Mirage’s hilt and lifted the quarterstaff. Edin took a deep breath. “Stay behind me and try to keep up okay.” There was much power from the staff, much from the world and Edin felt like he could run a thousand miles in moments.
Probably not though.
Edin began jogging, he took the road toward the bridge, crossing it was not an issue now. He jogged so that his friends could keep up.
He passed a dark alleyway and could see a pair of dematians creeping down it. They must’ve been thinking they were hidden. Edin reached out and pointed the staff. A bolt of lightning leapt from the end and down the staff. He did not watch to see it hit, though he knew it did. He felt it.
A few dematians looked down upon him from rooftops. Edin saw them all and waived a hand up.
Ethereal knives flew out and struck their bodies turning them into arterial mists. He reached the bridge and felt something in the water.
Something long and ancient and strong. Edin barely paused. With the talent, he reached down into the water and felt the thing. He felt its long tentacles and its wicked eye watching him from just beneath the bridge. He knew it was ready to leap out of the water and pull him and his friends down.
As it did. Edin turned the water that clung to the beast instantly to ice. A deep thick and cold ice that would need to be chipped apart by a very sharp icepick.
The be
ast had tentacles already over the edge of the bridge and on the railing. Edin froze them onto the railing and the beast hung there like an ornament.
They ran on. Edin spotted a giant bent over trying to reach through a doorway at people shrieking. Its head was pressed against the building as it blindly grabbed for them.
Edin spotted a large rock. He lifted it and dropped it on its head. The giant stumbled and fell into a lattice of vine-like plants with flowers trying to bloom. Or they had been before Yio Volor had brought the darkness.
Edin summoned fires to rise up and engulf two large cobra-like snakes that slithered through the dark city trying to prey on unsuspecting victims.
Then they were at the main avenue that led to the outside of the city. Behind him, Arianne and Dorset were having trouble keeping up.
Then he reached the place where the gate had been. It was but a crumbled wall for about thirty yards and small fires burned in and around the rubble and stuck out from stones. Dead bodies inside were like mortar.
Edin glanced down the wall and saw a few humans appearing from buildings as he went by. But it couldn’t have been more than a dozen. Probably less.
He climbed the mound as pebbles crumbled beneath his feet and looked out over the open field before him.
Despite seeing it from the tower, this took his breath away. The field was strewn with dead bodies on both sides.
Men, elves, dematians, crillios, and all other forms of good and evil.
Even things Edin hadn’t heard of that looked to be mashups of other things. There were broken shields and swords and horsehead knives all around. Men were crying, dematians were chattering and chittering. To the right, nearest the ocean, he saw a line of men, elves, and wolves being pushed back into the water. Magi were interspersed between them and they were sending powerful attacks at the beasts. It did nothing, the attacks were being deflected by what looked like shadows.
Edin jammed the staff into the stones and held up a hand. He felt the strength of the energy and the elements around him. He reached out and felt into the darkness and reached for the spot he thought Yio Volor was.