The Return of the Fifth Stone

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The Return of the Fifth Stone Page 29

by Vincent Todarello


  Our pace quickened once we felt confident in our safety with Felsson at our side. We soon reached the dome where we camped the previous night. We set our things down and built a fire. We sat around it, warming ourselves and settling in for some rest. Peitus passed around some bread and dried seasoned turkfowl.

  “Shall I take the first watch tonight?” Peitus offered. Patreus nodded in agreement, but was interrupted.

  “No need. Divinae do not sleep. I will watch over you, but it is doubtful that any of those demons would dare show themselves in my presence again,” said Felsson. “Tell me, has Scievah found any of the other stones?” he continued.

  “Not that we are aware of, though he is constantly searching. Some say he has learned the language of the stones, so it is just a matter of time before he finds one, most likely it would be the Earthstone,” Patreus explained. Felsson grunted, as if suggesting that he hid the stone too well for Scievah to find. “He has greatly increased his presence in Ahaareta since your time here, building a fortified palace near the western shore. From there, he spreads his influence into Aqos,” Patreus continued.

  “I see. Then we shall crush this palace of his. We shall start the war,” Felsson said.

  “He has already brought war upon us. We were attacked at a peaceful festival, and one of our towns was destroyed,” Patreus answered.

  “There is only so much he can do with his power. It may seem that his forces are devastating and mystical, but he is ultimately limited by the stone,” Felsson reassured Patreus, showing the first signs of compassion, or some other emotion aside from impatience. “What we have is limitless. Scievah wanted our power for as long as he was in existence. He envied us, the other Divinae, who were given special powers to defend and protect the stones. But he failed to see that he was the special one. He was free to see the world, to mix with the Haareti and live among them. With this he tempted Gelande. We, the four Divinae, were made for the sole purpose of protecting the stones; only rarely and for a short time did we leave our posts or walk among the Haareti,” Felsson explained. “It was only during the warring times that we did so, when we had to fight to protect the stones alongside those who kept the king’s law.”

  “It seems your work may never be complete. There will always be desire among men to gain such powers, to touch what is taboo, to take what is not theirs,” Patreus added.

  “That may be, but my service to the king, and to you, also has no end. It is my only purpose. The same goes for the other three Divinae,” said Felsson.

  “What about the other Divinae? When will they come? Where will they be?” Peitus asked.

  “I do not know. They surely have their instructions,” he said.

  “Are you angry with Gelande, for neglecting his duties?” I asked.

  “I was at first, but I soon realized that he was swindled. He never should have let it happen, but he is not the only one at fault. Scievah is a master of trickery. What Scievah did was maliciously wrong; what Gelande did was a terrible and selfish mistake. That is the difference.”

  “So Gelande is gone? He will not return?” I asked.

  “It is doubtful that he remains in Eterna after his mistake. I do not know his purpose now or if he even still exists. As I said earlier, I was kept in isolation since that time,” said Felsson.

  “I have made contact with Hemela, or, rather, she contacted me,” I said.

  “I do not know her purpose either; perhaps she was permitted to contact the Haareti. I know little from the time Scievah banished us until now. I was sent back to train what remains of the pure hearted groundsmen, and launch strikes against Scievah until he is destroyed. Only after that shall I return to my prior purpose. Our first attack will be upon this palace you mentioned, near the western shore,” he said.

  “Mir’Dinaas,” Peitus added.

  “It shall fall,” Felsson stated.

  We slept peacefully in a most unwelcome place. When I awoke I noticed another patch of green grass beneath me. Perhaps the powers of the Fifth Stone within me were somehow bringing life even to this place of death. Felsson kept watch all through the night, as promised. He woke us earlier than we had planned, and we continued on Peitus’ dark path of markers, making our way back to the town.

  Felsson’s unrelenting pace would have pleased Deius, I thought, as my mind drifted to the others we left in Alapis. I pined for Lunaris’ embrace, to see her loving smile peek out from behind her long brown hair. Would they be safe? Would Hemela come to them as Felsson came to us? Would we ever see them again? I wondered how such thoughts rested with Patreus, who left his wife and children behind.

  Soon the fog thinned and eventually lifted. It was midday. We scaled the wall and were back in town. The others noticed right away who accompanied us. They knew him from old drawings and depictions of the Divinae. Awestruck, they gawked at us. I walked beside Felsson as we parted the gathering of onlookers and headed toward the center of the encampment.

  As we walked past the enamored onlookers, Felsson gently spoke into the ear of Thomgren, the hopeless and angry man who doubted Patreus. “Your family is with the king in Eterna,” I heard him say quietly, almost in a whisper, with an uncharacteristically somber and heartfelt tone.

  “It is true. It’s all true,” Thomgren uttered with widened eyes, his faith no doubt rekindled. Thomgren gasped. His body went stiff, and his mouth dropped open with an overwhelming combination of fear and reverence. In complete awe, he fainted. A few others ran to Thomgren’s aid.

  “He will be alright,” Felsson announced. “It happens from time to time with the fallen,” he said quietly as he turned to me, as if warning me.

  We placed our gear on the ground, and Felsson looked all around at the work being done on the new town. Remarkably, the others all showed a great deal of respect to Felsson, leaving him alone and not intruding with what would likely have been hundreds of questions about the ancient times.

  “We decided to extend the wall to enclose the town, so that others who may happen upon it would be reluctant to enter, thinking it lies within the Sepulcre,” Patreus explained. “As you can see, we started to gather some fieldstone from nearby to do so.”

  “Perhaps I can be of service,” Felsson kindly offered. He stomped his right foot on the ground. It rumbled the earth all around us, and in an instant he commanded the attention of everyone in the encampment. His head pointed downward and his hands were raised up into the air. A light rustling sound of stones and boulders began to fill the air, and soon all the stones that we gathered seemed to begin to assemble into the crude shape of a wall. Felsson controlled the rocks as if they were parts of his own body. They floated strangely through the air, like the fruit of the Sacred Willow out in the desert.

  Slowly, it came together all around us. New rocks that we did not gather came from far distances, some jaggedly rolling across the field, some sailing through the air. He was doing in moments what would have taken several days with everyone working all day. The wall was complete, stacked tall and strong, all the way around the encampment, creating an enclosure with plenty of room left for a town to grow within.

  “And now you need timber for your homes,” he said.

  With another wave of his arms he began to summon unearthed trees, roots and all. They barreled across the plain leaving chunks of grass and dirt torn open in their wake. Heaps of dirt and rock flew and sprayed, bouncing up from the ground and from what clung to the roots of the trees.

  He lowered his arms and soon there were several trees ready to be formed into logs for building homes. Then he put his hands to the ground, dredging his fingers into the dry grass and dirt at his feet. He slowly raised them up. As he did this, saplings began to sprout out of the ground all around the enclosed area. In one area, there even seemed to be an orchard of young pearapple trees rising from the ground.

  “There,” he said, as his hands rose up above his head. “That should bring some life to this soil in time.”

  Everyone stood in
awe at what Felsson had done. Applause and cheering erupted, filling the air. Men and women came over to him and bowed, asking what they could do in return.

  “Build a likeness of me out of stone!” He laughed heartily at his own joke, showing a sense of humor for the first time. He must have thought the idea of a statue made of stone, depicting him, would be like making a statue of a tree made from wood. “Build a structure fitting of the Earthstone, for when the war is finished, I shall place it here. This shall be the town of the Earthstone altar.” He spoke mightily and triumphantly, as if the war was already won.

  I wished I had his strength and confidence. I had begun to doubt our prospects of winning against such a terrible force of evil. On the other hand, the recent events gave me hope that we were on the right path. It was a path that might lead to my death, but it was the right path nonetheless. Felsson’s will and determination served as a beacon of strength to us all.

  When Thomgren awoke from his fainting, he was astonished at the changes that were made to the town. He apologized to Patreus and me, and thanked Felsson furiously.

  “You Haareti are so dim,” Felsson responded. “It took an angel to prove what you already should have known to be true? The truth is all around you. Be open to it and it shall seek you out.”

  “It has. Thank you. I will continue to be open. You’ll see. I will fight beside you until my end if I must,” he rambled.

  “Thank you for your dedication and sacrifice,” said Felsson. He turned from Thomgren to address the other men. Sometimes he spoke to them alone, other times in groups. With little delay, Felsson had talked to and convinced the soldiers and other men of the next part of our mission. We were going to sack Mir’Dinaas.

  #

  Felsson spent a few days training us in combat. He showed us advanced movements for fighting without weaponry, and instructed us on group formations that were effective in dealing with certain kinds of attacks, both from man, magic and beast. He taught us silent killing methods used by rogues and assassins. It occurred to me then that the Divinae were formidable creatures. Their sole purpose was to watch and defend the power stones. They were trained to do nothing other than fight. He was an ally of vital importance to us.

  In the meantime, supplies were gathered and new weapons were fashioned for those who did not have any. The blacksmith was the first workshop to thrive in the town of Valdren, with the walls literally going up around Kalvis as he worked diligently and tirelessly. He was at his busiest ever, and he had others helping him throughout the days and nights. When he was finished with his work, he packed his gear to come with us, bidding farewell to his family. Construction of the town would have to get along without a blacksmith for the time being. Luckily, Kalvis’ apprentice was among the survivors of Kal’Adria. He could take on some duties if they were needed.

  My wings finished growing. They grew large, but not quite as big and majestic as the Lapisians. The feathers were brightest of white. When I opened them wide they stretched out as far as my arms could reach. I tried several times to jump up, flapping them furiously in an attempt to fly. I did not succeed. My body was too heavy, unlike the Lapisians, whose bones seemed to be light as air. I recalled back to when my feet sank into the padded floors in Alapis, while Bantas’ feet did not. I soon realized that this was probably the reason why my mother could not simply take to the air and fly away from her attackers when she was abducted in our home. Like me, she was unable to fly. Even if she was able to break free from their grasp, she wouldn’t be able to fly like the Lapisians.

  When we set out, we traveled northwest across the fields surrounding the town, through the woods where we collected timber, and over the small stream where we fetched fresh water. As we passed through the woods, I thought I saw a shadowy hooded figure watching us from behind one of the trees. I fixed my gaze upon the tree and watched as we passed, but there was nothing. I hoped my eyes were playing tricks on me and that we were not being followed. Soon we were slowed down in waist-high shrub brush, much of it prickle-thorn and thistle, which pierced our skin and stuck to our clothing as we cut through it. We kept our blades sharp to hack through it all. Felsson would take our blades and place them in the fold between his bicep and forearm and pull them quickly out. With one ringing, yellow-sparked swipe, our blades were sharpened in a move that would have severed a man’s arm at the elbow.

  We soon smelled the sea air. We would reach the shore by nightfall. Agimus was filled with excitement. His scales had lost color and began to dry out and flake from being on the land for such an extended period of time. He longed for the water, his home. He said that, eventually, all of his scales would shed if he stayed on the land. Underneath was a smooth shimmering skin that resembled my mother’s. I told him he was free to leave us, that his self-imposed duty and vow to protect me did not require fulfillment. He refused my offer. He was proud to fight beside us.

  “I’cn hear the waves a’crashin’ now, lads. Who wants seafood?” he cheered.

  Our bellies were tight from a long day of travel. Agimus’ offer allowed us to conserve our rations.

  We climbed up and then slid down the high dunes, reaching the shore shortly after nightfall. We made a small fire to cook the seafood Agimus brought to us and then quickly put it out. We kept a quiet, fireless beach camp on a night when no moonslight shined. Cloaked in darkness, we rested for our surprise attack on Mir’Dinaas.

  CHAPTER 22

  We left camp well before sunrise, walking north. We could see the distant cauldron flame of Mir’Dinaas burning as we made our approach in the dark. The impure stronghold was ill-prepared for a surprise attack. Although it was heavily fortified, it had never been attacked. Guards often slept at their posts, or left them to drink and pursue women.

  Sure enough, when we neared the gates, we saw that two guards were fast asleep at their posts on top of the wall. Three of our Uhaareti men each climbed the gate quietly and crept up the stairway that led to the top of the wall. Silently, one man approached each guard while the other two stood at the ready. With a snap of the neck, the guards were dead. One of our men went back down the stairs and unlatched the lock to the gates. The night sky was black, but I was able to see everything, as did the Uhaareti assassins. Many of the others could not, so I relayed the events to them with a whisper as they unfolded.

  Our men continued around the wallwalk, silently dispatching each guard posted at various places around the perimeter. One man began to wake, but before he could shout or call to others, an arrow hissed, swift like a serpent strike, settling in the soft of the sentry's neck, above his breast bone but below the bulge of his throat. The arrow passed through completely and out the other side. It fell beside his feet.

  The guard grasped at his neck, and blood gurgled out his mouth and between his fingers, dribbling down his tunic. He fell to his knees. Then one of our men bolted toward him. He was about to topple over into a chicken coop below. With quiet swiftness, our man scooped him up into his arms and pulled him aside, but not without incident. The guard’s foot had sloughed out from under him, and his boot pushed the bloody arrow over the edge of the wall and down to the chicken coop below. I watched as it fell silently through the air. With a clatter it fell upon the wire mesh and wood enclosure that housed the resting hens. They began to cluck and bristle, disturbed by the unfamiliar interruption. A guard below stirred from his sleep and stood up. He began to walk the square, stumbling about, still drunk from the previous night’s debauchery.

  The rest of us waited in hiding near the front gate. The plan was to take the wall, leave a few of our men stationed up there for ranged attack, and then take the palace, killing all that were armed. Though impure, women and children still lived within the walls of the town, so we decided not to clear the homes. This was to be an attack on the impure; a message, not a massacre. If they took up arms, however, we would have to defend ourselves no matter what.

  Mir'Dinaas was deceiving. It was not very big, despite the daunting height o
f the palace, the looming spires, and ominous tower cauldron. Several shops and homes lay between the gate and the palace door. We smelled the stale odor of urine and ale that wafted from the tavern. Outside its doors several men were passed out drunk on the ground, along with a few half-dressed women. Tattered clothing and bruised skin covered their bodies. In the square stood the execution cauldron, which could be seen from a far distance. The cauldron, set atop a stone tower rising high above the walls in the center of the square, bubbled and smoked with molten lava and flame.

  Two guards stood at the palace door, and the sentry we woke near the chicken coop continued his rounds, shambling about on his route. We waited for the signal from the others to charge the palace door. My father said that if Scievah were there, his presence would be obvious due to the elite personal guard with whom he traveled. He also demanded certain things to always be present wherever he went, such as his concubine of young women and his elaborate horse-drawn coach. We saw no evidence of these things and assumed that it would only be Pere in the palace.

  I thought of my father and whether he would kill Pere, his own father. Pere ordered the capture and death of his own son and his son’s wife. He surely was a relentless, heartless man, so twisted by dark corruption that no love for others was left in him. There was only self-love.

  We retreated into the deep shadows along the wall, silently taking a knee on the cobblestone with our weapons drawn. As the drunken guard passed the execution tower, his belligerent gaze unsteadily fixed upon the wallwalk. A puzzled look came over his face as he drooled and struggled to maintain a soldierly composure. Through the fog of fading booze, he knew something was amiss. There were no guards on the wall, none at the gates.

  His eyes caught glimpse of our men hunched and sneaking about the catwalk, getting into position. He quickly turned toward the palace. He breathed in a deep breath, readying himself for a billowing call to the guards in front of the palace doors. A low belch emerged instead, through the fingers of a muzzle, as a fast responding Peitus snatched him off his path, covered his mouth with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around the guard’s neck, placing the crux of his elbow across the man’s throat. He quietly slipped the guard backward into the shadows. Felsson gave a signal to put him down. Peitus was unsure at first, frightened.

 

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