Suddenly the ground began to quake violently. All fighting ceased as people fell to the ground, unable to hold their balance. A deafening blast echoed through the rocky foothills and rolled across the field. Blood Mountain erupted, ejecting an explosion of red magma and black ash high into the night sky. Even the moonslight could not penetrate its thickness, and soon the magma could not be seen, hidden behind the cloud of soot that lingered in the air above the mountains.
Massive boulders thundered down from the foothills to the north. They raged and barreled through the battlefield, crushing many in their wake.
“Take heed, for the mountains will bleed, the ground will quake, and the very skies will break.” Patreus quoted the rhymes of the prophecy as he gazed out into the night sky. He turned to me and spoke. “It would seem the prophecy was accurate that there would be many disasters during this time.”
The fighting soon resumed, and the impure forces were closing in on victory as the night turned to the faded and dim morning. But one part of the dawn sky still looked as though it was night. There was what looked like a large hole slit into the morning sky, and beyond it was the night sky, with stars still shining. The prophecy was right. Even the sky seemed to break; it was ripped open, allowing darkness back into that torn part of the sky.
My corrupt grandfather Pere made his way into the fight, and it seemed all of the impure forces were deployed. My father saw him slowly walking towards us, ignoring the fighting all around him. He took his sword into both hands and met Pere in the middle of the battlefield.
They circled for a few moments, studying each other’s movements. My father calmly stared into Pere’s eyes as they closed the distance between them, smashing blades together in the air. Pere’s face contorted with anger and hatred. His mouth frothed like a rabid dog. My father was calm, focused. He took Felsson’s words about revenge to heart back in Mir'Dinaas. This fight was no longer out of vengeance but, rather, justice. Pere’s emotion clouded his focus. He struck to kill, not to win. My father seemed to predict his every move, as I had experienced in my training with Peitus.
Pere yelled and lunged with each attack. My father parried and stepped aside, conserving his energy. Pere soon began to tire. He could not strike my father. As Pere’s rage died down with each unsuccessful attempt, my father began to pick him apart; a grazing slice to the leg, a pierce of the upper arm. My father even threw elbows and kicks as he spun away from some of Pere’s sloppy attacks. Soon Pere could not stand, let alone swing his sword. He dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.
My father held the point of his sword up to Pere’s lower neck, just above his armor. With the fingers of one hand gripped on the handle and the palm of his other hand poised at the bottom of the handle, my father stood ready to plunge his sword through my grandfather’s neck. One quick push would end Pere, and bring him to justice for the capture and murder of my mother. But my father waited. Moments later Pere began to laugh.
“You’ve lost your nerve.” He mocked my father. “You were always a disappointment.”
“I haven’t lost anything, father. I was giving you a chance to ask for forgiveness,” my father said calmly.
His face dropped as he realized why my father stayed his hand. Pere's eyes fell upon me, as I looked at him out the tops of my eyes. With a quick shove of his back hand, my father put the tip of his blade through Pere’s throat and into his spine. Pere fell backwards with his eyes fixed on me the whole way back. By the time he hit the ground behind him, he was dead.
My father knelt down beside Pere, placing one hand over his father’s eyes. His other hand, balled into a fist, pressed against his own head. He spoke to the king as a single tear fell from his eye.
Moments later he joined us back in battle. Our forces were weak. It was only a matter of time before we would be overwhelmed due to being outnumbered on the field. We fought tirelessly. The Divinae fought beside us. If it weren’t for the Divinae, we would have been finished before nightfall.
Then a long, loud whistle sounded from behind me. It repeated three times; someone must have been blowing on a reed carved of wood, for it did not sound like any whistle a man could make. Felgor burst into flames beside me, revealing his true form again; Gelande.
The ground began to rumble. At first I thought it was another earthquake, but it was a slow approaching vibration, like a stampede. Then I heard the roar of battle cries echoing off the rocks to the north. I turned to see a flood of molemen pouring down from the hills, from out of the Gates of Uhaaretu. My heart dropped. "Is this our end?" I thought. No. They were Gelande’s men. He commanded them and they followed his order. It was a secret regiment of pure Uhaareti that Gelande was waiting to unleash until the time was right.
Suddenly the fight was even again. Our numbers were no longer our weakness. A new day had begun. The sun was rising and our spirits were lifted. The battle took on a whole new feeling. Hope. There was hope for us.
#
A lone arrow plunged into the chest of one of the impure soldiers nearby, killing him instantly. It was an arrow nearly the size of a man in length. I turned to see a hail of these arrows making their way toward the battlefield from the west. The massive arrows all found their final resting places in the bodies of the impure. Some hit them with such force that they passed through the enemy and pinned them into the ground. Behind the arrows I could see winged figures approaching, glowing in the low morning sun.
It was the Lapisians. They had come to our aid after all! Leading them was what looked like a giant eagle, elegantly soaring toward us. It rose up high into the air and circled over the battlefield, as if hunting for prey. The Lapisian sentries swooped down, grabbing impure soldiers and lifting them into the air, tearing off the dark items that some of them wore, collecting them to later be destroyed. When the Lapisians were high enough, they dropped the impure, and let them fall to their death. It was a simple but effective way to fight. Slung over each of their backs were massive bows, which I assumed were used to fire the long arrows as they flew in. Gargaz and Bantas fought bravely.
Then I saw her. Hemela. The figure from my dreams was there on the battlefield. She flew up to me, landing in front of me. She looked into my eyes and the harmonic sounds of peace and serenity filled my head.
She turned and faced our enemies on the battlefield. She stretched her arms out in front of herself and pointed her wings out to the sides. The impure soldiers nearby dropped their weapons and grabbed their heads in agony, some even tearing out the hair on their heads in pain and madness. I could only imagine the sounds she put in their heads. Then a force of air jolted outward from her hands like an explosion. A concentrated wind blew the soldiers backward and they were launched into the air as if by a catapult. They fell limp to the ground, their eyes and ears dripping of blood. After that, Hemela used her powers of healing to tend to some of our soldiers. Many were saved, but some were too gravely injured to recover, even with her divine powers.
The giant eagle above positioned itself high over the unsuspecting dragon. Beyond it I could see the billowing smoke rising from Blood Mountain and the slow, creeping ooze of lava that dripped down from its rim. The eagle circled up above. Then it tucked its wings back and began to dive downward. It was then that I saw a rider on its back. It shot downward, faster than an arrow, with the lizor in its sights. It let out a loud shriek as its powerful claws clutched the neck of the dragon. The eagle was not quite as large as the dragon, but it was quicker and more nimble. It squeezed its claws tight around the dragon’s neck and thrust the tip of its pointed beak over and over into the eyes of the monster. Moments later the dragon died. The eagle landed and looked upon Hemela, as if waiting for instructions. She locked eyes with the creature.
The rider dismounted the eagle and waved goodbye as the eagle soared off into the distance. When the rider turned toward us, I recognized him. It was Deius. Patreus ran to him, greeting him with a big hug and a hearty, joyous laugh.
“You’ve recover
ed!” he cheered.
“Yes, thanks to Hemela. She healed me,” Deius explained. “The lost Lapisian prophecy, the second half of Tumain's message, is being fulfilled alongside our prophecy. Part of their prophecy says that a young man from Ahaareta would come seeking help who would later lead them into battle against evil forces to restore peace to Haaret.”
“That you have, my boy. That you have!” Patreus was overjoyed, and both Peitus and I greeted him with warm embraces. "My own son, the subject of prophecy!" Patreus was proud of Deius.
“When Hemela healed me, she revealed herself to the Lapisians. It was then that they decided to join us in the fight,” Deius explained.
#
Together the Divinae dominated the forces of evil, and even the most unskilled of warriors fought with inspired vigor. The prophecy was being fulfilled before our eyes. As I looked out over the battlefield, and we began to take the advantage, I noticed that the scene before me reminded me of something. It was the design embroidered on my sheath; the image depicted a grand battle with the four races conquering the impure. The sword Kalvis gave me was a foretelling of this very battle.
My eyes searched for Kalvis, who was bravely fighting nearby. I saw him then, and called out to him. He looked over at me as I held the sheath into the air, pointing at the image. He smiled a warm, broad grin, shooting me a nod and a wink. He turned to continue fighting, seeing that Gerron was becoming overwhelmed by several impure soldiers. With Gerron’s back to him, Kalvis ran to him. But out of the corner of his eye, Gerron must have seen someone else running at him. As if by instinct, Gerron turned and stuck out his blade to intercept. I gasped in horror. Kalvis stopped still in his tracks, as Gerron’s blade lodged deep in his abdomen. Gerron’s blade had found Kalvis by mistake.
Gerron turned to face what he thought was his attacker. Realizing it was Kalvis, his face changed to one of dread and sadness. His emotions quickly turned to rage, and he swiftly dispatched the two men he was fighting. He then turned back to Kalvis, who was on the ground holding his side, shivering in the cold.
“No!” Gerron screamed into the air. He looked down at Kalvis, his eyes flooded with tears. “What have I done?”
Kalvis could not speak. I ran to them, hoping to lay my hands upon Kalvis and bring him back to us, like I had done with Lunaris at the river side. I put my hands over his wound, closed my eyes, and focused all my thoughts and energy on Kalvis. Then there was a bright flash, so bright I felt its warmth and saw it flicker even though my eyes were shut. I opened them to see that Kalvis had vanished. His body was gone, like the bodies of Erdus and the other men who were ambushed in the night.
It suddenly occurred to me that this had not happened once before during the battle. Our men were so brave that they kept fighting until their death. Surely their spirits would live on in Eterna. But Kalvis, knowing he was about to perish from his wound, went into a relaxed state and allowed himself to leave this realm, as Felsson had instructed us. Losing Kalvis was saddening. He had saved my life by virtue of giving me my sword. It protected us in the Hem’l Canopy, and again in the Sepulcre. He worked tirelessly to help build a new, secluded town for the pure to live in. There was no shame in him doing this, or any of the other men that were ambushed for that matter. It was not like giving up, but, rather, like jumping forward to eternity when the time was right.
Gerron spoke solemn prayers for Kalvis then, but he was devastated. He let his guard down, walking off in shame. I called out to him, trying to give him words of encouragement, but it was no use. He needed time alone.
I took up my sword and fought beside Deius, with Agimus in stride, who was bravely watching and protecting me throughout the battle. My lion roamed the battlefield, assisting anyone who was in trouble. Gargaz, Bantas and the Lapisians took to the skies to exploit our advantage from above.
The dark wizards came down from their perches on nearby boulders to get closer. Their hands clenched simple staves but with them they weaved terror. Streams of fire shot forth from their palms, like some kind of evil Divinae. They channeled the power of the Firestone and caused much destruction.
Deius and I worked our way toward one of them. He seemed to require time to recover his strength after each spell he cast, as if channeling the powers of the stone had a tiring effect on his body. This seemed to be true of all the wizards. Deius and I waited, plotting an attack. We even pretended to fight one another, so that the wizard was unsuspecting of how close we were to him. As we neared him, we could smell the rotten stench of death he carried.
The dark wizard began to weave a spell. As soon as the fireball released from his palms, we ran in to attack him. The stench that surrounded him was unbearable and nearly made us retch. Unable to cast his spell upon us, Deius fought him, sword against staff. The wizard was skilled with his staff, but so too was Deius with his sword. His skills had improved far beyond mine. His speed was unmatched on the battlefield.
I circled around to the back of the wizard so that his guard would be weakened, trying to focus his defenses between two men on either side of him. Once I was in position, Deius began to overwhelm him with speed. The dark weaver was focused only on defending Deius’ attack. I took advantage of this and set my blade upon him. With a thrust I plunged it into his side.
Suddenly a burst of smoke came out from the wound. The sight was familiar to me; it was a Draugr. Deius froze with awe as he saw the dark wizard begin to writhe and twist in horror. The sorcerer collapsed to the ground. I stood over him, pressing my sword flat against his chest.
“Leave this body at once!” I commanded the wraith. His body heated up and I felt his heart pounding hard and fast through his chest, causing my arm to rattle with each beat. Several more Draugr rose up from the wizard, bursting into bright dust as their shadowy figures met with the morning sun. Moments later the man beneath my sword stopped convulsing. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart slowed, and he became calm. He was free from the Draugrs’ possession, but I feared the wound I inflicted was too damaging. I placed my hands upon his wound and concentrated on him. I felt his wound closing up beneath my fingers, and when I opened my eyes he was revived. I brought him back as I did to Lunaris by the river.
It was as we had suspected; the dark wizards were living men who were under the control of the Draugr. The Draugr could live in our realm when they took root inside of a living Haareti. Those within the dead, though, would forever be trapped in the Sepulcre, afraid of the light.
“Who are you?” the man said as he regained his composure.
“I am Valdren. I fight for the pure. Are you a pure man or do you desire the powers of the stones?”
“I strive to be pure,” he answered.
“Then how did this happen to you?” I questioned him.
“I don’t remember. The last thing I recall was hiding in my home from impure soldiers who were raiding my village.” The man was baffled by his surroundings as he sat up and looked around.
“Be off then,” I told him. “You are free to go, or you are free to join us in arms against those who abducted you. The choice is yours.”
“I will fight beside the pure, my friend,” he said as he picked up the staff left behind by the dark wizard and shook off the unholy ashes that were left behind. Without missing a beat, he was on his feet fighting for us.
“That was the most frightening thing I have ever seen,” said Deius, still confused and bewildered by the events he witnessed.
“And the most inspiring,” I added. “We battled many of these wraiths in the Sepulcre, but none that dwelled within the bodies of the living,” I explained. “We should take down the others the same way. Perhaps we can save them. They are Haareti just like you and me, only they are possessed. Another pure man could be trapped within.” Deius nodded in agreement, and we set to our task.
We struck down the other dark wizards in the same way. Deius’ speed was an incredible asset in battle. He overwhelmed them, and I placed my blade of banishment upon them,
driving out the wraiths within. Most of the others were indeed impure who had willingly given their lives over to Scievah’s command in a desperate desire to obtain the power of the stones. I questioned them all, and some were in possession of dark items. I tore them away and kept them in my pocket for later disposal, dispatching the impure Haareti that were left when the Draugr were cast out of their bodies.
“How did you do it? How did you convince the Lapisians to join our cause?” I asked Deius when the last sorcerer was destroyed.
“I had help from Gargaz and those who believed in the prophecy as he did. After I recovered, he showed the elders that I was the young Ahaareti who came speaking of reuniting the realms and stopping evil at a time when even truly pure men were becoming corrupt and losing their gift of eternal life. Gargaz told them of Aquidians who had lost their way, joining the impure. And of course Hemela returned and they could not refuse.” He laughed. “After that we began to train.”
“I bet that made you very happy!” I added.
“You bet it did!” Deius laughed. All of the old tensions that were once thick between us were gone. Deius seemed to have redeemed himself of any of his questionable behaviors. “Lunaris is here you know. She trained as well. She and my mother are fighting back there.” He nodded in their direction. I looked around and saw that several women were fighting; even Peitus’ wife Allewyn fought beside him.
“Do you mind if I leave to go find her? I have been yearning to see her, and have something important to tell her,” I said.
“Ah, I know what that means,” he replied jokingly. Deius knew my feelings for his sister. “The feeling is mutual. She hasn’t stopped speaking about you since my recovery.”
The Return of the Fifth Stone Page 34