Silverstone

by C E Johnson

  “They’re just a short distance away?” Emily asked quietly.

  Dr. D nodded while exchanging a glance with Luke and Emily. “Do any of you have any thoughts on our strategy?” he asked. Soldiers entered at that moment to add wood to a great stone fireplace in the corner of the room. They lit the fire and stoked it until flames danced in the room sending shadows along the walls as if they were living creatures.

  Luke spoke first. “I think we first have to decide if we fight or leave.” His words were solemn. He was staring into the flames. He didn’t appear apprehensive, only intense. “If we retreat back to Washington, we can join with the President’s forces under Hadrian’s command.” The wind began to build outside. There was a chill forming that brought something dark to Emily’s bones.

  “I think we need to deal with this battle here,” Emily said with building conviction. Luke was at her side and she reached out to hold his hand. Although her whole body felt pulled into a knot, she continued trying to keep her voice firm. This was a huge decision. Glancing around, she felt the weight of having everyone watch and judge her words. “I think there will only be one or two more battles on this planet, and then the die will be cast.” She continued attempting to keep her voice slow and steady. “The last battle will likely involve Drogor, Maaca, Iscar, and Malachi. They will have many advantages including the energy from the batteries you’re mentioning.”

  Show your resolve, Xena whispered. Face your inner fear. Give everyone encouragement with your conviction.

  Emily rubbed her leg appreciatively against Xena who lay at her feet. “I don’t think we want to add Doeg, Delores, and their growing army to that mix. I’m sure Iscar’s forces will grow in strength as others are drawn to his solar power. We need to stop this component before it becomes too daunting.”

  Anna stared at her with comprehension dawning in her eyes. “I get it. If we wait, their forces might become overwhelming.” Her brow began to furrow. “Anyway, how do we get people to join our forces over theirs? What’s our advantage?’

  “They have food and batteries,” Isabelle said thoughtfully as she narrowed her eyes. She began flexing her fingers and then balling them into fists. “We have divisions of the military, but so does Malachi.”

  “How do people know we’re the good guys?” Elizabeth asked gloomily. She looked to Emily, a confusing collection of emotions on her face. “I want people to know we’re good.”

  “If we defeat them, we can start our own center to help others,” Anna suggested with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “We can heal people. We will liberate others doing good with a pure heart.”

  “I think we also have to force the main issue,” Luke said slowly.

  “The main issue?” Dr. D asked.

  “I think we need to tell people this could be the end of times and they will have to take a stand,” he said quietly. A worried glance passed from Luke to Emily as he spoke. “Conquer badness with goodness.” Emily could feel all of their doubts. The task before them was monumental, and the depth of it made her shiver.

  Half-deads vs. humans, Xena whispered.

  “Half-deads vs. humans,” Emily echoed out loud. “She moved uncomfortably in her chair. “This really might be the end of times. People on Earth will have to choose between half-deads vs. humans as their rulers.” Her hands felt clammy. “Doeg and Delores will have half-deads on their side.”

  Oliver stared down at the palms of his hands. “I worry that when it comes down to food and warmth, most of humanity will choose half-deads.” He gave a sad little smile, stood, and moved slowly over to stand before the flames in the fireplace.

  Dr. D gave Oliver a long hard look that was both sad and pensive. “The end of days,” he said grimly. He took a drink from a glass of water his soldiers had placed before him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “This will be our first test,” Luke said slowly. He was so somber that Emily felt her heart catch in her throat. Everyone was subdued, acting like the battle was already lost. Luke went to stand by Oliver at the fireplace. As the firelight bounced off of them, dancing shadows rose in the room, writhing and lengthening.

  “We will tell everyone we meet of the dilemma we face,” Anna said hopefully. The wind sheared and snapped at the windows screaming at them like an attacking vampire.

  Dr. D appeared to sense the desperation in the band of warriors. He rose. “Exhaustion must be eating at each of you.” He allowed a thin smile to appear through gently pursed lips. “We all need to get some rest before the battle.”

  Emily stayed him with a hand. She wanted to do something to cheer everyone up. She wanted to give them hope. “You first need to see my silverstone,” she said to her father. Dr. D moved to her side with raised eyebrows as she took out her stone in the sword that she had gained from Wuldur. She placed the weapon on the table along with the other stones that were a part of her magestone set. “Can you believe it? Only one more stone and it will be complete.” She spun the free stones in her excitement, and the ones that could move turned rapidly together creating a blur of colors. “The last goldstone is with Iscar,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “I never thought you would form a set,” Dr. D said in a whisper. Instead of joy, she read something else in his look. Dr. D shook his head back and forth slowly. There was something in his expression that took Emily’s breath away. Something about his face made her think he was hoping for something different.

  “Can you send your bondsmates to get the last stone?” Oliver asked. “Then you would have all of them.”

  “No!” Dr. D’s voice was quick, firm, and resolute. “If we send them out alone and they were injured, you would all be weakened or die.” He stared at Emily, and she was startled to see dread forming in his eyes.

  Why is he so scared? she wondered. She could smell fear, love, and concern on him through Xena’s nose.

  He never thought you would make it this far in completing your magestone set, Xena whispered. Not in a million years. Realization dawned on Emily as Xena continued, He’s worried about what you will do with the sextet once it’s complete. He knows what Shadoe did. A cold chill went through Emily’s heart as she stared down at the stones. They all stopped spinning at the same moment.

  CHAPTER 17

  Queen

  The Royal Zuriel skimmed across the water like a flying fish. Maaca sat in the bow of the ship, closing her eyes, enjoying the spray on her face. The wind blew gently through her hair reminding her of Samil’s tender touch. Memories surfaced in her mind, and she thought sadly of the day Samil had placed her on a different ship and sent her away from his side. If he had kept me with him, Maaca thought, he never would have died.

  Captain Barkley bellowed commands to his crew, and the seamen sprang into action to follow his orders tying down lines amid the rise and fall of the ship. They were approaching Norfolk port. The water was rough today and there were snow-white caps on the tops of the waves. The sails above were in motion snapping back and forth in the currents of the wind. “Head to starboard!” the captain shouted, and the crew scrambled to obey. The wood creaked as the ship changed direction, and the cream-colored sails turned and cracked as they moved to a new position. “Pull down the sails!” the captain roared. “Oars in place!” The canvas groaned as it was brought down, and oars appeared forming a line on each side of the ship. “Slow speed!” Captain Barkley thundered, and a drumbeat began to sound. Dipping into the water with each crash of the oarmaster’s loud drum, the blades moved in precision. They approached the dock and lines were thrown. The ship was safe.

  “We should get moving,” Edvard urged appearing at Maaca’s side. “I saw a herd of horses in a stable close to here as we sailed into the port. We can ride them to meet with Iscar.”

  Maaca stood slowly. She was going to miss the water travel. Life was quiet and peaceful on the waves, and she had ample time for reflection on the meaning of her reincarnation and life. She deftly closed the fastenings on her black cloa
k. “Why do you think there’s snow now?” She asked Graciela. “What brought on the cold?”

  “I’m not sure, but I certainly don’t like it,” Graciela answered with a mock frown on her smooth face. She let out her breath giggling as it streamed out from her like smoke from a dragon. “We don’t have cold like this anywhere on Acacia except high in the mountains.”

  “You don’t act like a vampire anymore,” Edvard chided Graciela. He shook his head, but Maaca could see an edge of amusement in his expression.

  “Often I don’t want to be a vampire,” Graciela shot back. Edvard snorted at her before wheeling on his heels and marching toward Maaca’s side. He gestured to the plank that had been set down to let them off.

  “I’ll miss you,” Captain Barkley said in a soft voice appearing from his Captain’s cabin. He was approaching Maaca before she could depart. His face was tanned from the sun and his brow was wrinkled. Appearing to want to remain near Maaca’s side for a time, he began to talk about nothing important. After he finished prattling about the weather, Maaca awarded him with a small smile.

  “I enjoyed our talks, Captain,” Maaca whispered in a soft tone. “I enjoyed the sea.”

  He leaned forward and gave Maaca a hug. Giving him a small kiss on his cheek, Maaca attempted to close off her senses so she couldn’t smell his blood pumping frantically through the vessels in his throat. She was surprised to see his skin flush slightly at her touch.

  “And you aren’t acting like a vampire either,” Edvard said to Maaca with a shrug as they went down the gangplank. He rubbed his temples appearing unsettled. They all fell quiet for a moment before Maaca began to laugh at the absurdity of the evolution they were each undergoing. The entire notion of a kind and caring vampire amused her to no end.

  “I don’t feel like a vampire today either,” Maaca teased her warriors. She ran her hands through her hair which was thick and wet from the spray of the ocean. She liked the feel of her heavy hair on her neck and she wondered what she would find in the caverns ahead. Would Drogor have returned from Ater? She had known of his supreme reputation as a wraith of great power while she endured in Ater, but she had never wanted to join his retinue. She didn’t think her underlying feelings for Drogor would have changed, but she had to find out. Besides, Iscar had requested she come to him. “I guess we should quest out for our steeds,” she said. Touching the hilts of the swords on her back, she felt reassured by their presence. They walked through the sand in their leather boots, half-deads in front and magicians behind, until they arrived at the large stable that Edvard had identified.

  A young girl with thick brown hair and a round face was feeding hay to a herd of quarter horses. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, but loose strands danced on the sides of her head framing her delicate features. She opened a corral door just wide enough for their squad to enter. “You want horses, right?” she asked. Her tone was resigned and cold, but she didn’t appear fearful.

  “We do,” Maaca admitted. A cold sleet began to fall from the darkening sky and the wind was picking up, gusting around their position.

  “Can you pay?” the girl asked hesitantly. “My dad will skin me alive if I don’t get something for them.” The girl stared at each of them boldly. “Each of you is pale as death,” she blurted. She gestured toward her house. “There’s a fire crackling in there. Do you want to come in with me and warm up?”

  “We aren’t going to pay,” Edvard began stubbornly. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, but Maaca waved him back.

  “I have gold or gems. Which would you like?” Maaca asked, her voice was sad. “You remind me of a young girl I met in a village one day in a different place.” Maaca thought of the young girl she had to kill, a girl who had given her a silverstone. Acacia seemed so long ago, so far away.

  The girl gave a faint smile. “A little of each if you don’t mind.” She giggled quietly as if she were sharing some special secret. “I never know what my father wants some days.” She held out her hand with a sweet grace that warmed Maaca’s heart even as Edvard looked on with disappointment and suspicion.

  Maaca gave the girl enough gold and gems from their London robbery to purchase all the horses and the ranch house too. Money had no real meaning to her. She found she simply enjoyed making the girl happy. Reflecting on her actions, she wondered how her transformation would end. Kindness had its own excitement, but it also made her dread that which she was turning into. How will Iscar view me? She wondered. How will Drogor see me? Edvard rolled his eyes at her, but she could see he was becoming amused with her. There was no anger in his eyes.

  Maaca directed Edvard and Graciela to evaluate the characteristics of each of the horses. While they did, she taught her magicians the basics of riding over a long distance before vaulting into her own saddle. With Edvard’s advice, she picked a stallion that had hints of crimson red in his coat. Graciela chose a jet-black filly, while Edvard rode the largest horse available, a silver gelding. She gathered her reins in her hand, wheeled her red in a circle, and rode out of the corral at a fast canter. The sand was wet from the sleet and it stuck to the horses’ hooves falling in clods from their shoes. Appearing impatient to gallop, the horses tossed their heads. “They were probably cooped up way too long,” Maaca suggested.

  “I miss the horses on Acacia,” Edvard murmured. “These quarter horses have an elegance to them, but they are feeble compared to our steeds.”

  “I miss everything on Acacia,” Graciela added peering off into the distance. Her laughter had all but disappeared and she appeared doubtful as she studied their path ahead.

  “What worries you?” Maaca asked Graciela, but she already knew the answer.

  “I know Drogor’s probably going to be a half-dead like us when we see him, but I don’t really want to meet up with him,” Graciela said in a low voice. A faint steam was coming up from their laboring horses who were trotting at a steady pace. Graciela kept riding forward with a resigned expression, but Maaca could feel her growing concern. “Drogor represents all that we used to be before we started killing elves,” Graciela continued. “When I look back on my life at that point, it seems so empty, cold and sad.” She spun her head to face Maaca. “I’m happy now. Is that so wrong?”

  Maaca could feel moisture welling in her eyes and tears threatened to fall. She knew exactly what Graciela was talking about. “We’ve changed,” she whispered. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she bit the side of her mouth to keep the tears at bay. “We will go to Drogor and we will listen to him,” she said slowly. She shook off her melancholy and gave a sly smile to both Edvard and Graciela. “We will also listen to Iscar. And I’m beginning to think we will even listen to the elf Emily Dalton, the killer of my creator.” Her heart lurched as she finalized her plans. “Finally, we will listen to all of those we have assimilated before we make our ultimate decision. We must find our meaning.”

  “Our meaning?” Edvard asked. He gave her a cold look.

  “Oh, Edvard, you know what she’s talking about,” Graciela chided while fixing him with her own chilly glare.

  Edvard snorted, “I understand exactly what she means.” A few flakes of snow fell upon his dark cloak. “Although I wish I were fully behind Drogor and his horde of my brethren half-deads,” he began in a low voice, “I am firmly behind my queen Maaca.” He sighed and stared up at the night sky. “We’ve all killed entirely too many elves.” Suggesting a torrent of snow was preparing to fall, the sky darkened even more.

  “That we have,” Maaca whispered. Ice and snow crunched and cracked under the hooves of their horses, and Maaca could even detect a faint numbing sensation as the cold invaded her marrow. “Onward to Drogor and his caverns,” she called out before urging her horse into a gallop.

  * * *

  Just before they arrived at the gates of the caverns the following day, Maaca laughed aloud as Edvard and Graciela became involved in a snowball fight. The contest ended with the two falling into each other’s arms and exchangi
ng an awkward kiss. I wonder if my talking about a variety of possibilities had given them hope, Maaca reflected.

  “It’s blasted cold out here,” her green magician complained while rubbing his hands together rapidly as Edvard and Graciela leapt back into their saddles.

  “The gates are just ahead,” Maaca’s gold magician promised. A smile danced on his lips as he revealed his knowledge. “I remember this area from my dream-link with Iscar. You will all be warmed very soon.”

  “Well done,” Maaca encouraged her warrior-magician. Beaming with delight at her compliment, he led their contingent to the entrance to the caverns where two turrets of stone flanked the solid gates. Arrow slits were evenly spaced along the length of each turret with faint motion visible in the darkness suggesting bowmen ready with their arms.

  “Who goes there?” boomed the leader of the guards, a tall vampire with arms as wide around as Maaca’s legs. A squad of twenty vampires, all in black plate and leather, slowly filtered out of each turret spreading out over the top of the gates. They carried loaded crossbows that were held against their chests. Longswords hung at their sides. Goblin bowmen in red leather armor stood at the periphery of the gates. The dark eyes of the vampire leader widened and his confident voice suddenly faltered, “Maaca, is that you?”

  Maaca beamed proudly at the vampire warrior. He was one of her Black-blades that she had taught herself. “I’ve returned,” she called while raising a leather-clad fist with pride.

  “Open the gates!” the Black-blade roared. “Our queen has returned!” The vampires all made similar fists.

  The goblins stared at Maaca with mouths agape before turning and scurrying into the caverns. As they ran, Maaca could hear them calling excitedly to one another, “We must tell Drogor that his queen has arrived.” Instead of feeling excitement with the realization that Drogor had returned from Ater and was waiting for her, Maaca felt bitter acid rising into her throat.