Jewel of the Surf

by B. C. Johnson

  “I don’t know. It only says that I am to keep my current assignment but I have been advanced to the rank of Major,” Nathan looked at the letter suspiciously.

  “Well good news then. It’s about time they stopped treating you unfairly,” Sam said.

  “Yes…” Nathan replied. The blonde haired soldier couldn’t help shake the feeling that there was more behind this promotion than what he was being told, but for the time being he needed to concentrate on helping Sam stop Cain’s attack. Nathan sat back in the chair and lost himself in deep contemplation.

  * * *

  David knocked on the door to the Wizard’s tower that had been placed on the far end of the central borough. The stone structure was attached to the wall and could have been a guard tower of some kind when the Aquifers had still used the place as a fortress. Since the humans had controlled the city and turned it into their capital, the court Magi had claimed the dwelling. Inside they conducted experiments, created spells, and served as subject matter experts in all things magical to the king. Usually there was one Wizard and one Sorcerer ranked individual living in the tower.

  The door opened and David was greeted by the male Wizard he had heard the king call Gladius. The man was wearing a strange set of bifocals that had numerous lenses that could be placed or pivoted away from the front of his eyes. The lenses were all currently down, which made his eyes appear enormous as they looked David over. “My my, what a tiny little man you are. Are you a fairy? A gnome perhaps? First Contact with a new species! Where are my notes?” Gladius stated.

  David cleared his throat and motioned to his eyes with a finger. Gladius realized he was wearing the spectacles and quickly removed them. He was a little eccentric with his movements, almost like a gerbil who had taken espresso. “Yes? How can I help you? Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want any!”

  “Good Morning Sir. My name is David Aidyn. I’m an apprentice from the Cortendale Keep…” David started.

  “The Keep!” Gladius interrupted. “Inside! Now! We must know what happened!”

  Gladius took hold of David’s arm and practically dragged him into the tower. On the ground floor was a circular living space with a hearth fireplace in the center. The second and third floors opened to look down upon the hearth, allowing the smoke to rise through the center of the tower and out of air vents in the roof. Through the circular openings David could see potions being brewed on tables with elaborate alchemy labs, stacks and stacks of old texts and extensive libraries, and at the very top of the tower a living space with beds, dressers, and carpets.

  Minerva, the elf sorceress with the oversized witch hat, was dancing a broom across the floor to sweep while she lay on a large cushion. She perked up as Gladius hurled David onto a couch close to the hearth and started checking him over, muttering notes to himself. “Seems intact, no dust mites to speak of. Powder residue, none. Magical implosion perhaps? No no, silly, even students know not to blow things up indoors…”

  “Don’t mind him kid,” Minerva rolled her eyes. “What can we do for you?”

  David had difficulty explaining himself with Gladius hovering around him like he was some sort of experiment. “I don't mean to intrude...”

  "Are you kidding? We've been waiting for you to arrive. Gladius wouldn't shut up about you after we saw you in the throne room. I was just relieved that there was another Mage besides us, even if you are an apprentice,” Minerva bluntly remarked, pointing at David's apprentice sigil sewn onto his shirt. She didn't seem one for formalities. "Come to finish your studies? We're no Enchanters but we can take a stab at teaching.”

  "I’m sorry but that's not why I’ve come,” David said, still trying to be respectful of their positions. "I believe there is something quite dangerous lurking in this city.”

  “Dangerous you say? Like the succubus?” Gladius asked.

  “You know she’s here?” David asked wide eyed.

  “Oh yeah,” Minerva stated, rolling over in the cushion to look away like she was bored. “We’ve known about her for months. Doesn’t do anything but sleep with the prince and prance around in scantily clad clothes. I told Glad we shoulda’ vaporized her just because she annoys me.”

  “Well she attacked me and my friends, seriously wounding two. One of your people will never walk again,” David squinted. He couldn’t believe these two had known about such a dangerous creature in their city and had done nothing.

  “In broad daylight? Bold, very brazen. Not like a Vampire to work in the day,” Gladius said.

  “One of my people you say? Who was it?” Minerva asked.

  “Poikaer, a ranger from Lorie.”

  Minerva’s eyes widened. “The High Father’s daughter!?! Take me to her!”

  “Fortunate! A study of a succubi victim! Must grab my quill and notes,” Gladius practically squealed.

  David was again grabbed and thrust through the tower’s door, this time by a tiny Minerva grabbing his belt. Gladius struggled to keep pace behind, cradling a quill and sheets of blank parchment that flew from his grasp and littered the cobblestone behind them.

  * * *

  Dinaer handed Poiker a cup filled with an herbal tea. They had moved to the master bedroom, an attempt to make Poikaer as comfortable as possible. The two sat mostly in silence, Dinaer hadn't left his sister's side all week except to gather food or check in with the others' progress. Poikaer took a sip of the tea and squealed softly, Dinaer instantly at her side. "What is it?" He asked, concerned.

  "It's just a little hot brother, calm yourself. Stop doting on me so much. I am crippled, not helpless,” Poikaer scolded.

  Dinaer stood and moved to the window, looking out at the city. A knock on the door gathered their attention as Minerva entered the room, removing her hat respectfully and bowing her head. Her long elven ears almost seemed to droop as she saw them. “Milady… Milord…”

  Poikaer smiled and outstretched her hands. "Minerva. Elen sila lumenn omentilmo[1]”

  “Cormamin lindua ele lle.[2]” Minerva responded, coming towards the bed and hugging Poikaer gingerly.

  “It is good that you came.” Dinaer stated, flashing one of his rare smiles.

  Minerva looked at Dinaer wide-eyed. “Where have you two been? We thought you both dead. No one has seen or heard from either of you in twenty-two years.”

  Dinaer grunted. “We left, along with the others who shared my captivity. I was imprisoned for centuries only to come home to a people who scorned me.”

  “We never scorned you, not once. We wanted to help you,” Minerva argued.

  Dinaer turned to look out the window, angered by the conversation. “It is done.”

  There was a long pause, Poikaer smiling as Minerva ran her hand along the woman’s cheek. Minerva looked back towards Dinaer. “Does Persephone know?”

  Dinaer’s head hung in shame. He did not answer her question. Poikaer shook her head and Minerva nodded towards her. The sorceress looked down at Poikaer’s legs and sighed heavily. “I will start researching a cure for you immediately.”

  Dinaer did not turn to look at her. “Our healer said that her injury is permanent. She was unable to see any way for it to heal.”

  “Our healer?” Minerva squinted. “You prefer the company of humans over your own kind?”

  “And what of you? Sorceress for a human king?” Dinaer argued.

  “To fund explorations into our people’s ruins and find new ether springs. I use them to further our race’s endeavors,” Minerva countered.

  Dinaer sighed. Poikaer tried her best to calm the tension in the room. “The human healer has been exceptional. We trust what she has to say.”

  “With all due respect to her abilities, where light fails, magic triumphs,” Minerva argued. “I would think you of all people would try to cling onto any hope we can muster.”

  The three collectively sighed. “Forgive me. I did not want to argue when I rushed over here,” Minerva said.

  Poikaer smiled. “These are troubling
times. Darkness fills everyone's hearts with pain and dread.”

  “You two travel with the human’s Guardian? On the quest he spoke of to the king?” Minerva asked.

  “Yes. He has accomplished much in just a few short months,” Poikaer said.

  “So he speaks the truth? He searches for the shards?”

  Poikaer nodded. “So that will take him to Mal’hathanan,” Minerva stated.

  “Someday, yes,” Dinaer said.

  No mortal had ever set foot in the Elven capital of Mal’hathanan. No mortal ever would. Minerva replaced the hat onto her head, her ears sprouting from the slits in the brim. “I have to start looking for that cure. Tenna’ ento lye omenta, arwenamin ar’ heruamin.[3]”

  “Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’, mellonamin.[4]” Poikaer replied.

  “Quel fara, Minerva.[5]” Dinaer said, still not looking at her.

  Minerva closed the door behind her and Poikaer glared at her brother disapprovingly. Dinaer shook his head, “Now don’t you start.”

  Chapter 8

  Party Foul

  By the end of a second week since Lilith’s threat, all the preparations had been made for the banquet and not a moment too soon. Dignitaries from nations across the globe started arriving by boat to the gates of Lochmare. Using a special canal built between boroughs six and seven, the royal ships docked in the back of the palace grounds in the king’s private harbor at the south end of his estate. Crowds of people lined the canal, cheering and waving at the dignitaries from their host nations. In response, the foreigners from the ships threw out food, flowers, or other assorted gifts from their homelands.

  Each vessel was adorned to great detail in representing their nation. Rich silks and beautifully colored sails from the Gatoen Alphanium, a bustling steam driven monstrosity from the ingenious Dwarven Parliament, and the pure white wooden vessel that seemed to float along the mist that stayed ever around it from the Elven Hierarchy. There were a few races who did not send delegates, mostly because they did not have a centralized government body for their people such as the Wildmen of the snow, the Chipowi, Shades, and the races of the Sun Sprite. The Lycan were also absent which was strange as one of their settlements was only a week’s journey to the north by land. The dragons were going to be represented by Ahtash and no one expected any Aquifers as they were generally considered as a dead race. A number of human nations were also absent from the proceedings, still ostracizing Lochkary due to its alliance with Bashawn. All together the size of the guest list compared to the actual attendees was a large indication of how Lochkary currently stood within the world’s political scene - not well respected at all.

  Jeremy was uncharacteristically cheerful. He greeted each delegate personally on a red carpet that stretched from the dock to his palace. He spoke with each one as he exchanged pleasantries, swapped humorous stories, and he and the delegates updated each other about the state of their perspective kingdoms. Sam waited impatiently in a side room on the third floor of the palace, a few servants and his tailor putting the finishing touches on his uniform for the evening. He had been cleaned, primped, and altogether prepared by what seemed like an army of specialists to make him look presentable and noble. They had washed and tied his blue hair back, cleaned his nails, they even had tried to apply a bit of makeup to hide his facial scar but at that point Sam had shooed them away. By the time they were through he almost didn’t recognize himself in the mirror.

  A gentle knock on the door brought the Guardian away from the window overlooking the dignitaries’ arrival. Lucas Hayze smiled and let himself in. He looked over Sam’s garments with mock appeasement, “Well don’t you look every bit the honorable man I know you to be, Samuel Gale of Cortendale.”

  Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I would much rather prefer my armor and shield with Lilith still out there somewhere.”

  Sam’s tailor looked hurt that he didn’t like his suit, which the Guardian quickly apologized for and the tiny man went back about his business. Lucas chuckled. “Do not fret. Tonight is about making impressions. Let the guards worry about security.”

  “Will it just be the dignitaries and the royals?” Sam asked.

  “No. While the banquet will seat only your party, my family, and the dignitaries at the main table, there will be other tables for the nobles, senators, advisors, and other guests. My father has spared no expense introducing you to the world,” Lucas said, almost half believing his sugar coating of the king.

  “I am grateful he finally sees me as a benefit to his rule, instead of a threat,” Sam said, looking down as the tailor finished with his pants.

  Lucas bit his lower lip and quickly changed the subject. “Sam, there’s someone I would like you to meet.”

  Sam looked towards the doorway as Queen Victoria stepped through the portal, holding a red rose in her gloved hands. She was gowned in an elaborate blue dress, with golden trim and white decoration. Sam bowed deeply and accepted the rose she offered to him. “I am honored to finally meet you, my queen. We have all heard of your beauty in the Valley. The stories do not even come close to the reality.”

  Victoria smiled and stroked a comforting hand on Sam’s arm. She curtsied politely and signaled to Lucas who translated. The honor is mine, Guardian of the Wind. You have done so much for the people of Lochkary it is I who is honored by our meeting.

  “Your majesty does me a great kindness. I am only doing what is right,” Sam replied.

  And that is what makes you the perfect man to save us. Victoria signaled. She curtsied again and left the room, the two men watching as she left. “She is everything I’ve heard and more,” Sam said, still awestruck.

  “Yes,” Lucas watched his love leave, pulling himself back to the task at hand. “Well my friend, good luck. And don’t eat the Gatoen’s cuisine, it's so spicy that it’ll burn a hole straight through your stomach. I made that mistake my first time.”

  Sam laughed. “How old were you?”

  “I was seven. Screamed so loud they thought an assassin was after me and called in the guard,” Lucas smiled.

  Sam and the prince chuckled together. “See you on the other side,” Sam said. “Let’s hope we survive the night.”

  ***

  The banquet was held in the grand ballroom which took up two-thirds of one of the palace’s struts. An exquisite mosaic was painted across the ceiling and the walls were lined with three story tall panes of glass that looked out onto the gardens and city. The floor was a deep red and gold patterned carpet with the exception of the dance floor in the center made of hardwood. Chandeliers the size of small houses dangled in line along the ceiling. At the far end there was a master table set up much like the palace’s U shape as other tables for the senators, advisors, and other nobles lined the exterior of the room.

  Due to the security concerns raised by Sam and the fact that the dignitaries would be present, the army had submitted a request to the Cathedral for the Light for help. Long ago, in the church’s infancy, missionaries had moved into Chipowi lands and converted some of the people of power to their religion. As a result, most of the church’s security were descendants of these early converts. To the free tribes, they were traitors. Squabbles and periodic fights broke out between the Followers and the Chipowi whenever the two groups neared each other. For tonight, the Followers had sent a platoon of its guard to the palace. Forty of the massive warriors dressed in identical white plate mail armor and wielding claymores stood guard in front of each window of the ballroom. Unlike their free tribe cousins, they did not grow out their hair in decorative braids or other wild features. They were each clean cut, with professional military hairstyles. They stood as motionless as statues, their eyes peering out of the slits in their helmets. The Guard Captain, a bald headed Chipowi veteran named Ayawamat, walked the room with General Sillis. The man looked caged, restrained, like he was waiting for something to happen so he could be let off his chain.

  A string quartet played a melodic tune while th
e attendants obsessed themselves with small talk. Soon the familiar sound of Regent’s bronze staff echoing through the hall brought everyone’s attention to the grand marble staircase. Regent announced the introductions as he had in the throne room as each ambassador and his or her party was played down the stairs by their nation’s anthem; King Jeremy the last of the dignitaries to be introduced. Once they had made their way to the table on the far end of the room, the attention was brought back to the stairwell. Sam’s party was then presented. Nathaniel and Haven, David and Ahtash, and when they were settled, finally Sam.

  The room fell deftly silent as Sam entered in his handsome dark green uniform. The tailor had added a nice touch of adding golden Epaulettes to the shoulders with an Aiguillette on Sam’s left side so that his right was free to use Windrider should he need to, the sword attached to his hip by a decorative scabbard. The man walked down the stairs confidently, starting to hear whispers from the impressed faces of the senators and nobles as he moved towards the table. The King had done him a great service in introducing him last to the banquet, it was Sam they would remember above all the others.

  Once Sam reached his table he was unable to sit, as the dignitaries pounced on him almost immediately, after all, it was him they had come to meet. King Jeremy introduced each to the Guardian, the ambassadors seemed thrilled to meet the man whose tales had reached even their shores. “Charrrrmed,” The Gatoen ambassador named Osiris purred as she extended a furry hand that had paw pads and retractable claws.

  Sam nodded courteously to her and shook the offered hand. The dwarf ambassador was next, Billy Bronzecog. He was an older dwarf, with a silver beard and balding hair tied back into a ponytail. “Hey, pleasure ta meet the man behind the tales,” The dwarf clasped Sam’s hand in a strong yet sweaty handshake.

  Valen Riverwood, the Elven ambassador, seemed almost otherworldly as he greeted the Guardian. His long blonde hair and flowing green and white robes only accentuated his pale complexion and long pointed ears. The elf’s eyes were large and unblinking, making the dignitary seem almost like an apparition than a real person standing before Sam. “Mae govannen, Arato Edan. (well met, Champion of Humanity.) We are all anxious to see what awaits you in your career.”