“There is one thing you are right about, Scievah. I know not the extent of my powers,” I said.
I held my hand upward as if grasping at him from across the room. Hatred and anger filled my mind. My blood boiled like never before. I was filled with violent rage. I imagined myself choking Scievah. His hands suddenly went to his throat and he began to gasp for air, scratching and clawing at the invisible force that clutched his neck.
I panicked upon seeing what I did. I released my thoughts and Scievah fell to the ground. I was overwhelmed. It seemed I could destroy life with my powers after all. Perhaps I was not yet skilled at mastering the manipulation of fire, as I tried and failed while fighting Hadlick, but it seemed I could do other harmful things with my mind. Scievah was right; I did not know the extent of what I could do. I could not help but think it was all part of his plan; to get me to use my powers, become drunk with desire, and join him.
But I did not want such powers. It was too much for a man to wield. My newly acquired traits of flight, gills and sight in the dark were plenty enough. Those were natural abilities that came with having the blood of the four races. Only the Divinae or the king himself should possess the other magical powers, I thought. Perhaps that thinking was why the king chose me to have such powers, since only then were they coming out, while I was destroying Scievah, as the king intended. In either case, I was glad the powers would die with me. They frightened me.
I approached Scievah and pulled my sword from his stomach. I held it firmly beside his head. The wound on his body began to fester and ooze, as if his body were rapidly rotting before my eyes. He moaned in agony, dying a slow and painful death.
“Say the word and I will show you mercy with one blow that will end your life instantly,” I offered, placing the tip of my blade below his chin.
He shook his head in the affirmative. A look of doom and helplessness came over him. He was about to meet his maker, and this scared him more than he ever scared anyone in all his cycles of terror on Haaret. For ages he lived without consequence for his actions. He would soon have to face them.
“May the king have mercy on your everlasting soul,” I said. And after feeling a brief moment of pity for him, I quickly and firmly pushed the blade into his neck.
Scievah died instantly. His body went limp as he fell face first onto the polished stone floor. A black puddle of what looked like blood pooled beneath his head, and I imagined his spirit emerging in the depths of the Sepulcre, agonizing in eternal death.
I heard an eruption of cheering and celebration coming from the window. I looked out to see our men standing victorious down below. It was done; yet I was still alive. I quickly turned back to Scievah, thinking that perhaps I did not actually kill him. His body lay still.
Gelande soon entered the room and saw Scievah’s corpse. At that moment, Scievah’s body began to crumble into what looked like ash. Gelande and I looked on with puzzlement. Soon, all that was left was a pile of black dust beside the fire in the center of the room. The soot caught the air and was pulled up into the chimney, where it flew out into the dark Uhaareti sky.
“You’ve done it!” Gelande cheered as he morphed from flame to Felgor before my eyes. He quickly grabbed a vestment to cover himself. “You’ve saved them all, Valdren.” He hugged me. His body was hot, still warm from the flames of Gelande’s form.
“Then why am I still alive?” I asked. We stood in silence.
“Expire,” Gelande said as if he had discovered something. “Perhaps only the power of the Fifth Stone is gone from you, expired. The prophecy doesn’t exactly say that you will die. It says that the Fifth Stone will expire, and that the four stones will once again be placed upon their altars.”
“I don’t understand. When one expires, doesn’t that mean they die?” I asked.
“Yes, but in the prophecy the Fifth Stone expires. You have the powers of the Fifth Stone; you are not actually the Fifth Stone; that was Ver’Deiro. The prophecy says ‘All is lost, lest there is payment of a cost. Peace shall extinguish the flames of the Unity’s fire, for when evil does diminish, the Fifth Stone must too expire.’ The flames of the Unity’s fire are your powers; those are what have expired. That is the cost for lasting peace.” I listened intently as he reasoned through his thoughts. “With all four stones back at their altars, there is no need for a fifth stone to be here among us to keep Haaret in balance. Sure, Ver’Deiro is needed for the impure to gain eternal life, but all that is needed for Haaret to be in balance, for nature to operate in harmony as the king intended, are the four stones.”
That must have been it. That must have been what Ver’Deiro’s spirit told my father. Gelande’s reasoning was sound. The prophecy was cryptic, but we all mistakenly took it to mean that if the powers of the Fifth Stone expired, then so too would my life. The strangest part of it all was that if Scievah’s soldiers hadn’t destroyed my father’s records when they raided the pure many cycles ago, then the exact words of the prophecy would have likely revealed to Scievah that my powers would fade whether I went along with him or not. It seemed that sometimes even bad things happened for good reason; perhaps by divine providence. Had Scievah known the true meaning of the prophecy, and not just the misleading rhyme, then he would have killed me right away and escaped with the stones.
“Try to do something,” Gelande instructed as Felsson and my father entered the room. “Try to use your powers.”
“He lives!” Felsson cheered. “Where is the demon?”
“Dead,” Gelande answered, “reduced to soot and ash. Go on,” he said to me. “Try to use your powers.”
I tried to use my powers again to move an object in the room in the same way I had grasped at Scievah’s neck. Nothing worked. I tried igniting the flames higher within the cauldron in the center of the room. Nothing. Perhaps the powers had left me after all. I was relieved. I did not want them. And I was happy to be alive!
“How can this be? The prophecy is defied?” Felsson questioned.
“No. We misinterpreted,” Gelande explained. He went on to repeat his reasoning to Felsson and my father.
My father curled a grin that slowly spanned his entire face as he looked upon me. “Rhyme and song; sometimes right, sometimes wrong.”
EPILOGUE
Felsson and Gelande carried the stones in sacks, and we made our way to some passages that took us back up to Ahaareta. Before leaving Uhaaretu I could see that the sky was already starting to brighten and reclaim some of its lost luster. Light and life would soon return to the deep realm.
We emerged in Ahaareta on the north side of the Great Divide and Ahaareta Falls. The land continued to flourish near the waterfall, and the skies were bright and clear, with the exception of the rip in the sky that occurred during the battle. But there was promise of repair and renewal in the air. Haaret itself seemed to cheer our victory. We traveled west, making our way back to the town of Valdren.
Everyone I knew survived the final battle at Scievah’s palace, even the lion, who traveled by my side as a pet. We suffered fewer casualties in the siege than in the battle south of the Junction of the Four Realms. As we walked, I talked with all of the Haareti I met throughout my wild journey. Gargaz and Bantas talked of how their old prophecies would have to be researched, now that part had come to pass. It would be a new age in their lands; one with more contact and interaction with the Haareti below, our fates intertwined.
Agimus spoke to us of his undersea homeland, and urged me to visit him in the future. I looked forward to more adventures and travels, especially in the three realms I was only just acquainted with.
Patreus, though saddened by the passing of Deius, seemed to have found a new friend in Jedrick, the man we saw at the Fountain of Power.
“You saved me and I saved you!” Jedrick cheered as they toasted with a mug of ale they garnished from the supply carts. Jedrick guarded Patreus in an attack from his flank during the siege of Scievah's palace, saving his life.
“He saved me as
well,” the once skeptical Thomgren added, speaking about Patreus’ persistent attempts to keep his faith and his spirits high in the face of tragedy. Patreus nearly gave up on him until Felsson showed up and changed Thomgren’s perspective on things.
“No, no my good men. I did not save you,” Patreus mumbled between sips of ale and generous puffs from his pipe. “I merely tried to help you find the right path,” he corrected them with a laugh.
“Which has led to our saving, or so we hope,” Jedrick added.
“It is all of our hopes.” Patreus raised his mug. “Here is to hopes being fulfilled.”
Several of the other soldiers nearby joined in their celebration, as did I for some time. But then I saw my father sitting beside a weeping Gerron on some rocks nearby. I went to them to offer some comfort, having seen Gerron accidentally slay Kalvis in our first battle near the Junction.
“During wars there are inevitable casualties. There is always an innocent death, usually many. Often times there are mistakes; deaths inflicted by those sympathetic to the cause or friendly to the effort. It is difficult to live with, and that is part of the sacrifice we make for those we wish to protect. Living life afterward, reflecting on your behavior and how you conducted yourself on the battlefield, will define you in the cycles to come.” My father comforted him. “The ghosts of war haunt every soldier until the day he dies, but, my friend, you’ve done nothing dishonorable. You didn’t flee from a fight, leaving Kalvis to die. You didn’t neglect to come to his aid, or ignore his cry for help. It was purely an accident. There is no wrong in that, Gerron.” My father placed his hand on Gerron’s shoulder.
“What about his family, his wife?” Gerron wiped away the tears from his face. My father’s words seemed to help him. “They will be devastated. What do I tell them?”
“You must be honest,” my father suggested. “It will be difficult for them. They may not see it as we do. They may find you at fault, but you must honor their wishes. If they allow it, you should offer to look after them, to provide for them.”
“That is the least I can do,” said Gerron.
#
Soon we came upon the wall surrounding the Sepulcre. As we neared I wondered if the fog of the Sepulcre would someday recede backward, since the stones would be placed on their altars again. I wondered if the tear in the sky would ever close, or if the deserts would soon flourish as fertile lands once again.
Once we reached the town square, Fiama planted a seed from the mysterious tree we saw in the desert. Also in the square was a partially carved statue depicting Felsson, to honor him for helping build the wall around the town. Felsson laughed heartily, very pleased with the work in progress. The townspeople also began building an altar suitable for the Earthstone. Felsson carried the stone and set it down on its pillar. He stood beside it, motionless, resuming his ancient duty of protecting it as the walls of his quarters were being put up around him.
The town flourished. The trees Felsson pulled from the ground already began to bear fruit, and the ground was fertile. Cabins were built, and a market began to take form around the town square. Kalvis’ apprentice was busy at work in the blacksmith shop and took on several young apprentices of his own.
We stood there in awe at all that was done since we left. Soon Gerron left our side and went to find Kalvis’ family to tell them the news of what happened, and that he would support them if they allowed it. A moment later a young boy came running up to us, tugging at my tunic.
“The fountain has cracked! Scievah is defeated!” he cheered.
“What’s that you say, boy? The Fountain of Power has cracked?” Gelande asked with concern.
“Word has come from afar that the fountain is cracked and no longer flows with forbidden waters,” the child explained.
“I must go,” Gelande said as he turned to us. “The missing piece of the stone must be returned to the altar as well.”
“Where will you be once you obtain it? I should like to visit you every chance I can,” I said. “We all would.” I spoke for my father and Patreus’ family as well.
“Near the place where we defeated the Pantagruelian, in the lush land beneath the fountain. My men will help me build a new altar there.”
“Then we say goodbye for now,” I said. “We will visit soon.”
Gelande said goodbye to us all warmly, and then to the other Divinae. It would be many cycles before the Divinae would have cause to see each other again. They hoped never. Then Gelande was off, heading to the north. Luna and Hemela parted ways with us then as well, along with the Lapisians and Aquidians, including Gargaz, Bantas, Agimus and the others.
#
After resting for some time, we made our way back to the farms in the south. Lunaris and I had a small wedding ceremony the day we returned, and were finally able to spend time together in peace on the evening of our wedding.
My father and I began to rebuild the cabin that Scievah’s men destroyed, and Fiama planted several seeds to begin growing an orchard of the mysterious trees. Occasionally my father or I would catch a glimpse of the hunched, dark figure peering at us from the wood. It still followed us, watched us, but we could never reach it before it vanished. It was even stealthy enough to evade the lion.
Every morning that I awoke on the farm I visited my mother’s resting place, and my pet lion laid across the path that led to Sanji, watching over the farms. The king smiled upon us.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mr. Todarello spent his formative years hunting the elusive Yeti in the peaks of the Himalaya Mountains, only to return with a tuft of greyish hair and a few coprolites. He then began to meticulously recreate the experiments of Nikola Tesla in the abandoned warehouses of Redhook, Brooklyn. After passing through a wormhole in spacetime, Mr. Todarello knew how to play the Moonlight Sonata on the oboe without ever having picked up a woodwind in his life.
More accurately, Mr. Todarello grew up in a loving family in Suffolk County, Long Island. He studied biology in undergraduate school, and later became a patent attorney after graduating law school in Manhattan. He is happily married and still resides in New York. He spends his free time writing and working on his photography.
The Stones of Haaret is envisioned as a multi-part series of sequels and prequels that will chronicle the lives of key characters, past, present, and future. There is more to come!
Mr. Todarello recently published The Diaper Man, a short horror story, and he is busy working on a sequel to his zombie apocalypse novel titled The Lazarus Impact. After that he intends to return to the Pure Shores of Haaret. In the meantime visit www.vintod.com for full resolution graphic art illustrations from this and other novels.
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