The Return of the Fifth Stone

by Vincent Todarello

  “Like we practiced,” Felsson whispered. Patreus nodded in agreement, reassuring his son.

  Peitus quickly regained his usual fearless composure. I heard the friction of fabric upon fabric, and a low muffled pop. The guard went limp. With a quick twist, Peitus had snapped the guard’s neck. He dragged him a few paces away, setting him down along the wall. Peitus pressed a fist to his forehead and uttered low whispers to himself.

  “Are you alright son?” Patreus asked him, understanding that Peitus killed not out of self defense, but, rather, preemptively, as our assassins on the wallwalk had done. Peitus nodded, only half sure, but knowing he had done the right thing.

  Felsson’s attention was drawn away from the action. He watched our men on the wall as they gave signals and hand gestures to my father.

  “What are they saying?” Felsson asked.

  “Something approaches from the east, beyond the wall. A large bird, perhaps?” my father answered.

  Patreus’ face became still with horror. “A winged lizor,” he corrected. “One of the Soul Collectors.”

  My father didn’t know what we learned at the council meeting, all the treachery that Scievah was up to in the past cycle and more since he was captured. We would have to inform him of everything after the battle, if we survived.

  Patreus signaled back for the men on the wall to stay low and still, to hold their position until we could reassess the situation. Fighting a fire breathing dragon would require different techniques than we planned.

  The men on the wall would be our ranged attack either way, but we would no doubt have to rely more heavily on Felsson if we were to defeat a winged lizor mounted by a dark wizard or a Soul Collector, who would most certainly command the destructive forces of a dark item.

  I heard the distant undulating whoosh of the lizor’s wings as they beat rhythmically, coming closer and closer to Mir'Dinaas. All was silent, but soon the throbbing strokes were heard by all. Moments later, the beast perched itself atop the palace, resting on the upper most spire. I could make out a figure, the dragon riding Soul Collector. Both the man and the beast scoured the area. Then, upon the rider’s whip of the reins, the lizor leapt upward, high into the dark sky. With a flap of the wings it took an arc downward. Like an arrow, the dragon came shooting downward toward the executioner’s tower.

  It landed with a soft gracefulness that none of us expected from such a vicious beast. Its massive claws wrapped around the thick iron cauldron handle, and the Soul Collector dismounted the beast onto the platform surrounding the cauldron. The lizor remained perched on the blaze. The flames licked its body, and smoke enveloped it almost completely. The beast wrapped its wings around itself, forming what looked like a giant leathery egg made of skin and scale. An eerie red-orange glow reflected off its body from the cauldron beneath. It rested, as if comforted or relaxed by the fire and heat.

  The rider slowly descended the spiraling stairway that wrapped its way down around the outside of the tower. His countenance was familiar to me; hunched, awkward, paranoid, frantic, erratic and unrefined.

  “Hadut the Betrayer,” Patreus whispered as he came off the stairs and into the square. “This is what the Haareti have been tricked into thinking is an angel, one of the Divinae?” he uttered in disgust.

  Hadut scurried about the area, his face low to the ground on all fours, furiously sniffing various spots on the ground like a hound with a glowing talisman dangling from his neck. A look of disgust filled his face as he eyed the men and women who lay passed out in the square. He turned toward the palace doors and walked on two feet. The guards stood at attention as he approached.

  “Wa, wake him!” Hadut demanded with a stutter. A long drawn out sigh followed.

  “Yes sir, right away,” one of guards said as he opened the palace doors and went inside.

  “Bring him out he, here,” Hadut commanded into the palace.

  Two men soon emerged from the palace door; the guard, and an older, bald man. His face was weathered with time. He wore a mean look, but he was strong and well built despite his age.

  “That is your grandfather, Pere,” my father whispered to me. “Tonight there will be justice, and a bit of revenge.”

  Moments later two naked women trotted out of the palace door, their heads hung low with shame and embarrassment. Taken aback by the sight of Hadut, they gasped in disgust. Breaking their quickened stride to a stop, they set their astonished eyes upon the hairy half-man, half-rodent that stood before them.

  “Would you like the presence of a woman?” Pere asked. “You must be tired from your travels.”

  “No,” Hadut snapped. “I have no need for such distractions.” He calmed as his hand stroked the talisman that hung from his neck.

  With a snap of his fingers Pere dismissed the women out into the brisk morning. “Come back later, and bring a third!” he demanded with anger.

  “You should not be so distracted either.” Hadut pointed to the unguarded town. “Entertaining wo, women while your town guards drink to oblivion?”

  Without warning Pere turned and punched the guard closest to him square in the face, doling out punishment. By then my father fumed and shook with rage. His anger boiled and his face went red. I could see it in his eyes that he wanted revenge upon Pere.

  “I run Mir’Dinaas, Hadut. Do not lecture me on security. We’ve never been attacked or infiltrated. The rebellion is too weak,” Pere bragged. “Now, come, relax.”

  “Where. Are. Your. Guards!” Hadut paused between each word, pronouncing each with vicious force.

  “They are probably drunk or with women. I have taught them well,” Pere said with pride. “You worry too much. Besides, most that were stationed here were called on by Scievah to prepare for war.”

  “Even mo, more cause for concern. Scievah draws nearer to finding the Earthstone. Those devoted to the king will be on the offensive.”

  “Damn right!” Felsson growled, summoning a massive boulder to launch up at the lizor. It hurtled through the air at incredible speed, smashing into the resting dragon. The beast lurched backward, sailing over the wall of the citadel. The huge boulder crashed to the ground beside the executioner’s tower and shook the earth, cracking the ornate cobblestone that adorned the town square.

  The drunks awoke from their slumber, and Hadut and Pere turned in shock at the sight of Felsson. We too were shocked. None of us expected Felsson to initiate the attack. My father even seemed angry.

  “Enough small talk,” Felsson said with disgust. “War is upon you and your kind.” He pointed his rocky finger at them, fuming with righteous anger.

  Hadut took the talisman from around his neck and held it in his hand, above his head. It glowed bright as he spoke unknown words and chants, and with a wave of his hand the drunks gave him their full attention. They were possessed, their eyes fixed upon him like a god.

  “Seize and kill them all,” Hadut commanded.

  They turned in our direction and began to charge at us. More came out from their homes, ravenous and bloodthirsty. As they drew near, a rain of arrows fell from the sky. Our men upon the catwalk began to loose their arrows relentlessly at the attackers. We were now in a full scale siege. Their arrows sank deep into the bodies of the damned.

  Hadut hurled balls of flame at us from the palace steps. Felsson intercepted each, engulfing them with his stony body without harm. More guards joined the fight, coming from inside the palace. Most of the drones were easily dispatched. They were weaponless, attacking with hate and rage rather than skill. But one of them stuck out among the others. He was defending himself rather than attacking. Someone from Mir’Dinaas was fighting on our behalf. I worked my way closer to him during the fight and confirmed my suspicions; it was the traveler we encountered in the oasis, by the fountain. Glancing over between parry and thrust, he locked eyes with me and then Patreus. He nodded at us with familiarity.

  A high pitched screech filled the air followed by the deep ominous rhythm of wings beating.
The dragon rose up from outside the walls of the citadel, recovered from Felsson's attack. One of its wings was tattered, and it oozed blood from a wound on its belly. The blood dripped down onto the cobblestone in the square as it hovered over the battle. With each spatter of blood came a sizzling white smoke. Each toxic drop dissolved the rock and mortar beneath. Some of the blood fell upon our men during the fight. They screamed in agony as it melted through their protective armor and clothing. The caustic blood burned their skin to the bone.

  The beast flew to the executioner’s tower. It grabbed hold of the cauldron handle with its talons and lifted, carrying the cauldron like a seabird carries a fish pulled from the ocean. Flame, smoke and lava spilled and bubbled out of the cauldron as the lizor carried it out over the battle. Our men yelled to one another, warning of the doom above. The beast seemed immune to the natural effects of fire, but Felsson’s attack had certainly wounded it. Realizing this, Felsson ran up the spiraling steps of the executioner’s tower. Once on top, he challenged the beast, calling out to it to focus its aggression on him rather than us and the soldiers below.

  The dragon, hovering just out of Felsson’s reach over the square, turned and breathed fire at him, blasting him with an inferno of flame streamed as thick as a tree trunk and as fast as rolling rapids. Felsson put both of his forearms up over his face like a shield. The blast deflected around him, creating a cone of red fire around his body. It was so hot that we could feel the heat of the fireball from down on the ground. Felsson’s entire body glowed red hot like embers in a campfire when the dragon’s flame ceased. Felsson seemed weakened, but not harmed. The heat melted and charred anything not made of stone at the top of the tower. Any other living being would be burnt to a crisp if it were nearby.

  Felsson had successfully drawn its fire away from us below. The archers on the catwalk were safe and unchallenged as they rained arrows down upon the drones and guards. Our men fought with vigor; especially Thomgren, who showed great courage.

  Pere was nowhere to be found. He likely retreated into the palace. Hadut, however, stood on the palace steps commanding his ravenous drones and hurling balls of flame at us. When he saw that his drones were no match for skilled fighters, he abandoned his control of them. They then attacked anything in sight, even each other. They gnawed and bit at each other’s flesh, feasting upon the dead like animals.

  Hadut stepped down and waded through the chaos of the battle, cutting and slashing his way through friend and foe alike. He fought the way he moved; erratic, unpredictable. His eyes were fixed on the tower, on Felsson. The dragon looked down upon Hadut, as if awaiting his command, still hovering above the square. Hadut uttered unknown incantations, and suddenly the dragon flung the bubbling cauldron out across the fight below. Its contents bathed several of our men in a hot blanket of fire that scorched everything it touched.

  The dragon screeched again, turning its back to Felsson as it awaited further commands below from Hadut. Hadut spoke to it again, and the dragon breathed in a massive breath, filling its lungs with air, as if preparing to unleash a huge blast of fire from its mouth.

  Its face winced in anger and its body jerked downward. Felsson had grabbed hold of its whip like tail. Interrupted, it exhaled hot white steam from its nose that smelled worse than the putrid stench bogs deep in the jungles of Tashik.

  Felsson pulled the giant beast in closer to him as it frantically flapped its tattered wings, kicking up dust all around us. Then, with a powerful yank, he viciously jerked the dragon’s body. A ripple flowed from its tail all the way up its spine and to its head. We heard a low crunch as its neck snapped like the end of a whip from the sudden motion. Its body went limp in the air, and crashed down against the side of the executioner’s tower. Felsson released his grip and the dragon fell to the square below, dead.

  Hadut was stunned by the magnificent power of the Divinae. Realizing that this fight had taken a turn against him, he panicked, dropped to all fours, and began to scurry toward the palace doors to lock himself away in safety. A guard inside was frantically closing and locking the doors as Hadut reached them. Hadut was locked out. Felsson looked down upon him, chuckling. Hadut looked around in all directions, seeking a place to hide or a way to escape.

  Felsson raised both his hands to the sky and with that motion an entangling snare of roots and razor bush emerged from the ground beneath Hadut’s feet. Thick vines wrapped themselves tightly around Hadut’s ankles, anchoring him in place. Droplets of blood squeezed out from the thorns and burrs that pierced Hadut’s skin. Roots encircled his hands, tying them down at each side of his body. One shoot even made its way up and across Hadut’s mouth, preventing him from speaking his dark incantations of magic. Felsson left him there to watch as we finished off the rest of his man eating drones.

  The traveler from the oasis fought by our side, dispatching the drones he once knew as people who lived within the citadel. When the fighting slowed, Patreus confronted him.

  “Why weren’t you controlled by the Soul Collector?” he asked.

  “My heart changed since our encounter at the oasis. I suppose my soul was protected.” He answered with fear in his voice as he glanced at Felsson, who was descending the executioner’s tower. “The spell the Soul Collectors weave works only on those who are devoted to Scievah. My family remained safe in our home as well, thanks to the things you said and the mercy you showed me at the oasis. They changed me.”

  “Then you should join us,” suggested Felsson.

  “I would need to consider it with my family. I have much to make right with them as well as with the king.” He spoke candidly.

  “Very well. Now, someone go dispatch this hideous creature at the palace door.” Felsson spoke of Hadut.

  “With honor,” Patreus said and drew his blade.

  The sun began to rise up above the wall behind the palace. It was a new day. Patreus and my father approached Hadut, squinting in the morning sunlight.

  Each of them placed a hand on Hadut’s shoulder. Hadut squirmed and twitched, desperately struggling to free himself from Felsson’s entanglements. Patreus rested the tip of his blade near his heart. It pounded in his chest, as if ready to explode.

  “Goodbye old friend.” My father spoke to him softly, almost with care and compassion.

  “We pray the king will have mercy on your soul,” Patreus added as he slowly pushed the blade into his heart.

  Hadut died instantly, without pain or suffering. At his end, the friends he so fiendishly betrayed showed him much more mercy than he deserved.

  Felsson had summoned several boulders in the meantime, readying himself to unleash a barrage of power that would knock down the palace doors. Pere was still inside, likely locked away in his sleeping quarters with the protection of some guards.

  Felsson shot the stones forth, pelting the thick wooden doors until they began to splinter and crack. After a moment, they were nothing but a pile of twigs and tattered boards. Our Uhaareti assassins came down from the wallwalk and were ready to use their skills in an initial sweep of the palace before the rest of our men went in for the attack. We didn’t know how many more men were holed up inside the palace, protecting Pere or hiding.

  “Valdren, you should lead them,” Patreus said. “Your skills at this kind of work are matched only by Felgor.” I stepped up to lead the molemen into the palace.

  “Be careful and stay alert,” my father instructed.

  We slipped into the grand entryway. Dark polished marble echoed the slightest sounds all the way up a double stairway that lead back into the sleeping quarters. Lanterns burned at various spots along the wall, resting on ornate pillars. There were symbols upon the walls; Scievah's raven crest. I took a closer look at the details of the symbol. It depicted a raven with its wings ominously spread and its talons clutching a red sphere. It had the head of a serpent lashing a forked tongue. In the past I had only seen it while in danger. But now, those who wore it were the ones in danger.

  Our first ta
sk was to extinguish any light. The palace had no windows, so this was easy despite the rising sun. We crept up to the lanterns in the entryway and put them out. All was dark, even up the stairs and into the sleeping quarters. There were no signs of guards. They knew we were coming for them, coming for blood. They were hiding in the dark, waiting for us to blindly burst into what was likely a trap.

  The other assassins thought as I did. They were seasoned and trained for this. Although my skills were superior, they had experience in these situations. They sensed a trap.

  I held my hand out to them, signaling that they stop moving. I heard something ahead, at the top of the stairs. Short, soft breaths. The pounding of a heart within a chest. It was the sound of someone straining to be silent. Whoever it was had his back to the wall in the corridor to the right. My eyes fixed on the spot where the sound was coming from. They adjusted, and I could see the man; a guard. His eyes shot in every direction. He was blind in the darkness, but holding his scimitar at the ready with two hands in front of his body.

  I side stepped and circled around. I quietly scaled the steps and began to approach him. The others followed close behind. I thought about what I was about to do. I thought of Reigo and the pirates. I feared that killing, even when justified or in battle, would make me a different person. I thought about the things my father taught me during the time we spent in the wilderness. This was not hunting, but I vowed to respect the kill as any other. Even the most vile criminals still deserved my prayers in the end. In that spirit, I proceeded.