The Return of the Fifth Stone

by Vincent Todarello

  I snatched the blade from his hands and slipped behind him, placing my left arm over his and then across his back. My other hand took the blade up to his throat and sliced from right to left. I felt the life slip away from him as his body went limp in my arms. I set him down and asked the king to show mercy on his soul, as well as my own.

  My men swept the other corridors in similar fashion, killing a guard in each one. The sleeping quarters at the end of those were empty, but I hadn’t reached the one at the end of mine yet. Their plan to spring on us had failed. The other assassins joined me in my corridor and we came upon a closed door at the end. The dancing glow of firelight trickled out from underneath the door. It would be difficult to enter the room in silence and with stealth. The large wooden door had an iron latch and rusted hinges; it would surely creak and squeal upon opening. We would have to slip into the shadows and discreetly close the door behind us in silence if we were to go unnoticed.

  The door was unlocked. I opened it slowly, just a crack, as the other men poured chubfish oil on the hinges and covered them with their hands to deaden any sound they could make. I peeked into the empty room. A low fire flickered in a marble and stone fireplace on one side of the room. A large elegant bed was against another wall. In the center of the room stood an altar of some sort; a raised flat stone slab that was stained with old blood. On top of the altar sat a small blade, a bowl of liquid, and a candle.

  I slipped inside, hugging the shadows that clung to the walls. I searched the room with stealth; there was no one there. I signaled to the others and they came in as well. “I’ll go get the other men,” one of them said. By the time he returned I had found a secret corridor in the corner of the room behind a false wall. It led behind the fireplace and down into a tunnel.

  “He got away!” my father fumed with frustration. “Felsson broke from the plan and scared him off. I would have had my revenge tonight if not for that.”

  “Do not be motivated by revenge. You must focus on justice, as was done with Hadut, for if you kill with malice in your heart it then becomes murder,” Felsson instructed.

  His words struck meaning for me. Killing in self defense or to level a fitting punishment to serve the ends of justice was not wrong, but to do so with joy, hate or vengefulness was murder. Death, the ultimate punishment, was not to be taken lightly, whether in punishing a crime or during the passions of war. I struggled with it deeply, having doled out that most final of judgments on a few occasions.

  My father calmed himself, taking several deep breaths and pacing the room.

  “We should follow the tunnel to see where it leads,” Peitus suggested.

  One of the men fashioned a torch from a leg of furniture and lit it in the dying fire. We went in.

  A stone stairway twisted down to an earthen-walled passage. It was wide enough for three men to walk side by side. If we had to fight down there, it would be as difficult as our fight against the Draugr down in that dark musty tomb. The tunnel was straight. If Pere had taken this secret escape at the outset of the fight, he would be too far ahead to catch.

  Light splashed down onto the tunnel floor ahead. When we reached it, the tunnel sloped upward to an exit among the tall straw fields east of Mir’Dinaas. Even then, in full sunlight, the tunnel opening just looked like a darkened patch of grass; completely hidden in plain view. Our sight ahead was obstructed by the tall reeds, and the wind was gusting too hard to identify any tracks Pere may have left during his escape.

  “I suppose he will tell Scievah of our attack. Scievah will know where to meet us for battle. We go east,” Felsson directed. “The war will be upon the fields south of the Junction of the Four Realms.”

  Like the ancients before us, we would defend purity and goodness upon the very same battlefield; a battlefield for the ages. The pure were victorious there before, despite losing the Firestone. Perhaps we would be truly victorious, and retrieve the Firestone.

  Weighted hurried footsteps came from within the tunnel, along with the heavy panting of someone trying to catch his breath. The traveler from the oasis emerged. He put his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

  “You decided to join us!” Patreus cheered.

  “Yes.” He answered between breaths. “My wife wants to kill me, but I suppose right now that is better than the king wanting to kill me.” The soldiers erupted in laughter, and a smile took over the traveler’s face as he began to breathe easier. “I am Jedrick.” He held out his hand, and we all shook it in the traditional way among pure men. “It is an honor to be among you, and it will be an honor to fight beside you.”

  CHAPTER 23

  We traveled east, back across the plains. It began to rain so we sought dry shelter and tried to rest at the ruins of Kal’Adria, which now sat smokeless and lifeless. There weren’t any covered dwellings left to get out from the rain. Everything had burned and collapsed. When the rain stopped we struggled to make a fire with wet flint and kindling.

  Agimus tried to glean a spark but he had no luck. I sat with him and tried. Nothing. We were cold and wet. I focused my eyes on the pile of kindling, trying to will it to ignite with each of Agimus’ attempts. Strike after strike there was nothing. Agimus had all but given up. I blocked out all sound around me. My eyes saw only the wood and flint; all else was a blur. Then suddenly a flame appeared. Agimus saw it. He quickly cupped it with his hands and nursed it from a flicker to a fire. “Whaddaya know, lad? Not bad for a merman, eh?”

  “Not bad at all!” I said, though I wondered if I had created the fire with my thoughts. If so, was that a power that I should continue to wield? It seemed dangerous and destructive. Impure.

  Felsson boiled with anger at the sight of the destruction as our seafood stew broth bubbled over the campfire. Agimus watched over the meal, stirring it to perfection. I could hear the clatter of the shellfish as the stick slowly circled the pot. Agimus preferred his food raw and cold. In his view, cooking the meat destroyed the flavor. He kept some aside for himself, but he cooked the rest for us.

  We sat and ate. Patreus and I informed my father of everything that happened while he was gone, including the attacks and the things that were said during the council meeting. He too was disturbed by the prospect of Felgor being a spy for the impure, but, like us, he was not fully convinced.

  Thomgren approached us as we sat and talked. “I apologize for my behavior toward you both after you found us here.” He spoke to Patreus and I, motioning to the twisted and charred bits of wood that remained after the fire.

  “We are glad you came to your senses, Thomgren,” Patreus responded. “You fight with great skill and bravery.”

  “I will continue to do so until death or victory.” The rumble of his stomach was as loud as his voice.

  “Have you eaten?” Patreus asked.

  “Not since we left our new settlement. I’ve felt some nerves since then,” he said.

  “How about now?” my father asked, passing him a hot bowl of fish soup. The steam wafted up Thomgren’s nose. He breathed it in and his stomach called out for it. “It will calm your nerves,” my father added.

  “Thank you. You are very kind,” he said.

  “No thanks necessary. This food is for everyone, so conserve your own rations,” my father said.

  Just then, out of the corner of my eyes I saw the cloaked figure again, hunched in its countenance, leering at us from behind one of the burned buildings in the square. I leapt up from my seat and ran toward it, but when I got there it was gone.

  “What is it?” my father asked.

  “I thought I saw someone watching us. On the way to Mir’Dinaas too. A shrouded figure with a dark hood,” I explained.

  “I’ve seen it. Ever since I escaped Sanji. Perhaps we are being followed by Scievah’s spies,” he said.

  “Or a dark wizard, using the Gift to locate the Fifth Stone,” Patreus added.

  We fanned out in search of the spy, but we found nothing.

  #

  After an u
neasy sleep, we crossed the old river near Kal’Adria and set out back across the desert, filling our flasks with fresh water for the journey ahead. Along the way we rested at the mysterious tree that sat in the desert. It seemed to have grown twice in size since we were there.

  The desert was hot in the day and bitter cold at night. We rested on the outskirts of the oasis, avoiding the fountain. We refilled our water from the rivulet that trickled near the campsite, and ate our rations and what fruit we gathered from the tree in the desert.

  Jedrick raised a toast as we ate. He spoke of his struggles with the choice to be here and the choice to change his life. The temptation to visit the fountain was gone from him, he explained, and he thanked us again for showing him mercy. He told the rest of the soldiers the circumstances of how we met, and how Patreus’ words helped him through troubled times.

  The next morning we set out across the fine, hot sand of the desert east of the oasis. The terrain escalated as we traveled on, and the ground beneath our feet became hardened and grassy. We were exiting the once fertile valley and going up a steady incline that, if we continued onward, would eventually take us past the Junction of the Four Realms and up near Blood Mountain. The temperature dropped; it was cold.

  What little moisture the grass held beneath our feet was frosted over in the mornings. Large boulders and rock outcroppings dotted the landscape, providing places to climb so our eyes could rise up above the ground and see what was ahead. We gazed upon the smoky peak of Blood Mountain in the distance. To our left, in the north, we could see the ancient ruins of the Junction of the Four Realms; covered with ivy, like a city made of leaves.

  “North,” Felsson commanded.

  “There are tracks leading that way. Many men. Perhaps twice as many as we,” observed one soldier who was an expert tracker. “I see the marks of animals too; goats, lambs. We must be cautious in any case. It could be Scievah’s army.”

  “Scievah’s army does not travel with such animals. Warbears, yes, but not livestock,” Patreus commented.

  “Three men should travel ahead,” my father suggested. “We shall camp here for the night until you return tomorrow with news of who is ahead of us.”

  The tracker and two other men went out ahead, and we set up camp for the night. Early the next morning I awoke to the distant crunch of our scouts returning as they treaded across the frosted grass. They approached with confidence and good spirits. The others were awake and eagerly awaited their news.

  “We have an army,” one of them proclaimed. “Hundreds of men, mostly Ahaareti, some Uhaareti and even a few Aquidians. All pure, and ready to fight.”

  “But also women and children,” another added. “Many families just picked up and left their homes together, fearful of being apart from each other. They took whatever they could with them, including their animals. They said they were answering a calling.”

  We needed all the men we could get if we were to fight a war against Scievah’s dreaded army. But hundreds may still be no match for thousands or more, including bloodthirsty beasts, barbarians, dragons, dark destructive magic, and the Pantagruelian.

  As everyone gathered their things before making the way to the Junction I took a stroll around the area and climbed some boulders to see the land. I came upon a great gated passageway embedded in the rocky terrain. It led deep into the ground. I scoured my map to see that it was the Gates of Uhaaretu. It was how the ancient Uhaareti would come to Ahaareta when they visited the Junction. The gates were old and rusted, but thick and strong just the same. The passage hadn’t been used for many cycles. It was abandoned in the ancient days, because when Scievah took the Firestone the earthquakes caused the tunnel beneath to collapse. Many Haareti died, trapped within. The way down seemed to be blocked by boulders, but my eyes saw far into the darkness and fell upon what looked to be fresh tracks of some kind, possibly made by animals that fit between the bars of the gates. I passed with caution, and kept my senses sharp just in case.

  I made my way back to the others. We soon wound our way up and around rocky passes until we came upon the lush cliffs upon which the Junction sat. The area had warmth despite the weather in the surrounding mountains, as if the civilization that bustled here in the ancient days still radiated heat and life long past its demise. The vines climbed up and out from the west, covering almost every space of rock and granite. Statues were engulfed by ivy, an amphitheater was blanketed in green and looked like a giant bowl of wilted dark cabbage, and the stone walls of homes that had outlived their roofs resembled the sparse outline of a labyrinth.

  A clearing was made in a central square, high up a winding stairway and overlooking the sea to the north. From there we could look upon the massive trees of the Hem’l Canopy in the west as they climbed up into the clouds. To the east the magnificent and ominous Blood Mountain could be seen with frightening detail. Molten lava spewed and gurgled up into the air at the crater. Red rivers of fire flowed from its peak, trickling down the mountainside in the distance.

  It was a serene place. The sea air that came in from the north was fresh and moist, the mountain air that blew from the east was cool and crisp, and the blanketing plants that crept in from the west, along the edge of the lush Hem’l Canopy, filled the area with strength and life. A small pool of water near the cliff’s edge steamed and hissed; a natural hot spring, likely heated from the magma beneath the nearby volcano. Although it was a ruin, it was a kind of paradise.

  Elaborate stone walkways, bridges, and private paths meandered their way throughout the ruins and ended in hidden lookouts. Beyond the steam pool was a tremendous stairway leading down the face of the cliff to the rocky shoreline below. Off to the west I could see where we met Agimus and his boat men.

  Our scouts took us to the others. I immediately recognized several of them; the Saubit and the council members. Ergomet, Bellock and all the other members. Erdus, the Aquidian we saw early in our journey at the chasm pools, greeted us warmly. Algomann was also there, the Aquidian that Gerron sent to keep a cautious eye on Ergomet. Patreus spoke quietly with him, out of earshot. I moved closer to listen in.

  “What have you found?” Patreus asked.

  “Nothing. I was always suspicious of him, but he has done nothing to suggest his disloyalty other than skepticism and fierce advocacy that Sindris is the Unity.”

  “Very well. Better this than betrayal,” Patreus responded.

  They joined back with the rest of the group. All looked in awe upon Felsson as the crowd gathered around him, prodding him with questions. He would have his hands full for some time.

  #

  An impromptu council meeting took place to discuss matters of the rebellion and what had happened since the Di’Veridae attack. In recent days the pure began to develop a feeling that they referred to as “the calling.” The calling, they said, was an urge to come to this place and prepare for battle. The first Ahaareti to arrive thought he had gone mad. When he arrived here, alone, he just simply sat and waited, unknowing of why he felt compelled to travel here. The next day another traveler showed up, describing the same compulsion. Then more came the day afterward. Soon, groups of Haareti arrived; men, women, and children alike, all with the same feeling.

  Those who escaped the attacks at the festival of Di’Veridae and Kal’Adria struggled to survive. Many traveled for days without food and water. Others left their homes and lives behind to come here, unknowing of what was ahead. Patreus explained all that had happened to us since the attack, including our stay in Alapis, his receipt of the king’s message, the journey into the Sepulcre, and the attack on Mir’Dinaas. My father explained his escape as well.

  All were in agreement that war was upon us. Ergomet still pushed for inaction, diplomacy or negotiations. This time he was outvoted; we were going to war. Upon this he insisted that Sindris, the part-Aquidian groundswoman, lead us into battle as the Unity.

  “One does not decide who is or is not the Unity. It is not a matter for debate,” Patreus sta
ted. “The young man has performed several miracles that could only be the sign of the Fifth Stone. He has the blood of all four races as well as the traits of all four. Valdren is the Unity, there is no question about it.”

  The others were in agreement, with the exception of Ergomet. Sindris sat beside him, her head lowered in embarrassment. She was uncomfortable being a point of contention for the council.

  “Ergomet, can’t you see that you are wrong?” my father asked.

  “You see what you want to see,” he retorted.

  “With or without full support, we are going to war. It matters not who leads us into battle,” Felsson interrupted as he walked over, exhausted from the onslaught of questions he just answered from other travelers. “According to the prophecy, the Unity will destroy Scievah.” He addressed us all, more than just the council. He addressed us as Haareti. “Your apprehensions have strangled you for long enough. You’ve put off your training and preparations for war based on bickering. You’ve clouded your reason with doubt, and squandered your faith with politics. You’ve set aside your natural desire for freedom and peace and replaced it with fear and complacency.” The council looked upon him as a student would a teacher. “Wake up, you fools!”

  “Felsson is right,” Erdus added. “But there is one more issue that may be of importance. Felgor.”

  “What is it?” Patreus inquired.

  “I have confirmed that he is with the enemy. He has betrayed us,” Erdus said, shaking his head with shame. “He is one of the Soul Collectors in Scievah’s army; Felgor, Hadlick and Scievah himself.”

  The others gasped in disbelief. It seemed futile to fight it any longer; Felgor was a villain. My heart sank. The feeling was worse than losing my mother, because there was anger and betrayal as well as sorrow. A loved one had squandered our trust and destroyed a bond of friendship.

  “We shall destroy this Felgor traitor,” Felsson vowed.

  A crushed Patreus now fumed with vengeful anger. He thought back on all that he shared with Felgor, all he had known, everything about the rebellion. How could he lie and keep up pretenses so well for so long? A cunning spy. A master of deceit on par with Scievah himself. Others confirmed Erdus’ statement, saying they saw him traveling among Scievah’s elite convoys in Uhaaretu.