Possessing the Grimstone

chapter 3


Olani, the Lady of the Council in Bhrungach, stood in her study, tracing the patterns in the wallpaper again and again. She was greatly troubled with the news from the Lake Lands. It wasn’t enough that she had to endure conflict with the people of the South? Now a new enemy had risen to make war on her people. What had she done to deserve all of this?

She paced at the back of the room and leaned on the mantle of the huge fireplace for support. Her reflection stared back at her from the surface of the gold candlesticks: such a pale, thin face.

A soft knock came from the door. “Enter.” A servant girl came in with a steaming cup of tea. “Thank you.” She took the cup gingerly and raised it to her chapped lips, sipping with caution.

As the servant left, a tall, thin man came in past her. He shut the door behind him. “M’lady, you should be in your chambers, in bed. You are not well.”

“My people need me, Nachin. Our lands are being invaded. The villages are being destroyed as we speak. I cannot resign myself to bed while they suffer.”

“And you cannot help them if you collapse and expire. The rest of the council can handle this trouble.”

“The rest of the council would just love to operate without my input, wouldn’t they, Nachin?”

“M’lady?”

“Don’t take me for a fool. I know about the whispers and stares. I know that I am only the second woman to command the council, and they would have rather it have been my husband. But he is dead, and I am the council’s new leader by law. Tell them they are to make no decisions on my behalf.”

“Of course, M’lady.”

“There is dread in the wind, Nachin. The loss of Daustra, Triton and Helfex, it leaves a hole in my soul. We are their guardians. How did we not see this coming?”

“It deceived us all. Some say it is a trick of the South; that they are using a new weapon to divide our attention and interests.”

“They would never attack poor villages with women and children. It is not their usual practice. Something else is afoot.” Her hand trembled—a dribble of tea tipped from her cup and splattered on the floor. She held strong, stiffening her grip. “It was with heavy heart that I sent our soldiers to the Lake Lands with no scouting or preparation.”

“It was the only choice.”

“True. Have we heard back from Farnus-Tan? Do they know what enemy makes war on us?”

“There’s been no word so far, M’lady.”

“It’s been half a day. I fear the worst.”

“All this worry will take its toll. You should rest.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I will be in my chambers. Summon me the moment word arrives from the battlegrounds.”

Nachin nodded and bowed to her. He left the room quietly. She’d always thought he was smug bastard, but he was loyal to her family. Olani made her way to the opposite door that adjoined her bedchamber. On wobbly steps, she managed to get to her bed and climb in. She set her tea down on the nightstand to rest.

Damn this sickness. I cannot lead in such a frail state. When will the healers divine my cure? She looked out her window and thought of her husband. She could use his words of comfort right now, and his strong hands upon her shoulders. He was taken too soon from her. The Gods of Brungach were angry on that day, and had struck him down. If only she had offered them more fitting tokens, perhaps they would have spared him.

Now they sent new evil to test her and the Northlands. Why has Farnus-Tan not sent word? Perhaps it was time to commune with Cardoon, the richest and most powerful city in all of Athora. If this was too big for her to manage, what alternative was there?

She would bring the order to the council after she rested.

###

At the edge of the village, away from the prying eyes of his father, Pim practiced his swordplay on one of the carved totems. It stood about eight or nine feet tall, and had many different animals and faces leering at him: gaping mouths, bird-like beaks, were meant to represent the First People, the eyes of Thet, the father of all.

“Blasphemy!”

Pim turned with his heart in his throat. Ono stood laughing at him. “Away, I am busy slaying my enemy.”

“If the Order of Thet catches you, they will cry blasphemy just as I have. And you will be whipped in the village center for all to see. You better cut that out. Who are you slaying, anyway? Your little brother?”

“No, the Fire Elemental, or the undead of the swamps.”

“Really? Can I join you?”

“I’m not playing. I’m training.”

“Sure you are.”

“It’s true. I’m going to join the Warrior sect when I come of age.”

“You may have use for your sword before that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The traders that came this morning? They were gypsies from the forest.”

“So?”

“They heard talk on the roads. Something came through the wall of mist last night. Out on the Red Coast.”

“Impossible. There is nothing beyond the mist. It’s been there for ages. The land just drops off into the darkness.”

“I’m not so sure. They said it was something terrible, something evil with an undying hunger. All of Athora is in danger.”

“It’s nonsense. Just stories, like the First People and the father Thet, who poured the dawn into the water and created land.”

“Ah, believe what you want… like how we can run on top of water and leap over trees. Those are stories, too, aren’t they?” Ono skipped off to join the others boys, running with the dogs.

Pim stood pondering for a moment, replaying Ono’s last words in his mind. What if it were true? What if something had come through the mist? His skill would be needed now more than ever. He was glad he picked the warrior sect: now he could serve his people and be more than just a farmer. In all honesty, the idea of a new danger actually excited him, and he relished it.

“I’m telling Father!” Tal cried, pointing at Pim’s sword.

“No you’re not.”

Tal dashed off to the village, using his fleet of foot, but Pim was older and much faster than his little brother. He chased after him, leaving his sword behind.

###

“You can’t send out two more Circle Guards—the other two haven’t come back yet.” Tolan argued with Jorrel.

“And how else do you suppose we track them down?”

“Dispatch a battalion. Something’s wrong.”

“I told you before, it’s an overreaction. We’re not going to alarm the entire kingdom. We’ll send out the normal rotation and have them report back, or perform search and rescue. That is all.”

Tolan sneered, but said nothing further. He left the watchtower and stormed down the stairs.

At the foot of the black spires, Tolan began to climb the steps, twisting around and around. A flock of crawmares fluttered past him, dropping black feathers as they went. Not a good sign. He climbed steeper, and was nearly out of breath when a stench rose in his nostrils. Rounding the last corner, he came to a wooden door with a moon and stars carved into it: the chamber of Sooth-Malesh.

Tolan knocked hard. “Wizard, I seek an audience. I believe you. Sooth-Malesh?”

The door creaked open and the darkness slithered out. Incense, stinkweed, and soot filled Tolan’s senses. His eyes watered.

“Come…” Sooth-Malesh beckoned.

The young warrior entered slowly, candles igniting one by one as he walked. Walls lined with bookshelves took shape, ancient tomes, and musty volumes crowded the shelves, which sagged from the weight.

A table in disarray with all manner of flask, bottle, mortar and pestle, herb, and oil appeared on his left. Pedestals flanked the corners, sconces held yet more candles. Trunks of magical items were stacked against brick walls, rugs of various shapes and sizes layered the floor.

To the back of the room, up some stone steps, Tolan noticed more doors. Some led to even higher reaches of the spires, and some led out to bridges that connect the six spires to one another.

Blue-purple smoke trickled in the air from urns at the bottom of the stone steps. One of the many doors opened, and Sooth-Malesh appeared. He walked into his chamber and an empty chair slid across the floor to meet him. It nearly tripped the old mage into it.

“Well, what do you mean you believe me?”

“There is a foul taste in the air,” Tolan said. “I feel it deep down in my bones. Something is wrong. Athora itself is in danger, isn’t it?”

The mage nodded.

“Tell me what you have found out so I may go to the King.”

“You may not want to hear it.”

“I must. My friends in the Circle Guard are out there, and more are being sent as we speak. I have troubled over this all night, gaining no sleep at all.”

“Dear boy,” he got out of the chair and went directly to his worktable. Tolan joined his side. “They tried blocking me at first, so I couldn’t see them. But they’re working too much magic in their attacks now to stay hidden.”

“Who?”

“Patience, patience, Lad.” Sooth-Malesh opened his musty book again. “I do not know what they’re called, but they’re more ruthless than anything in our land. Barbaric, relentless, and dark as the abyss.”

Tolan watched with restraint as the old mage thumbed through the pages.

“You know the belief that there is no land on the other side of the mist in the Fifling Sea?”

“Yes, we covered this down below.”

“Yes, yes… well, it’s not true. This race has come through that mist. They broke their way through, and it wasn’t easy.” He stopped on a page with rough drawings and sketches of men with wings. “You know of the legend of the First People.”

“Of course, every child learns about them in school.”

“Yes, yes,” the old man nodded. “Well, do you know the legend of the Grimstone?” He turned the page, and there was another drawing of a grand, shimmering stone, a texture unlike anything Tolan had ever seen. It was a stone with shades of emerald and onyx, with a twinkle to every side of it.

“I know not of this stone.”

“The Grimstone. Long before any of us existed, the First People knew the power of this stone, and the danger it possessed. They could not destroy it, but they separated it. Three pieces were forged and hidden throughout the land. These creatures have one of its pieces. It lent them power; their mages used it to break through the mist and enter our lands. Now they mean to invade us all.”

“They must be stopped.”

“There is very little we know about them.”

“It is time we found out. We must bring the fight to them before they lay waste to our lands. Do they know of the other two pieces or their locations?”

“I do not know. There’s no telling if they’re simply here to plunder, or to find the other pieces. Look.” Sooth-Malesh grabbed a silk bag from his robes. He shook the bag and poured the contents onto the table. Rune stones scattered about, turning onto various sides. “You see?”

“What?”

“Their mark.”

Tolan looked closer and saw that each rune formed one large symbol overall. When the stones were assembled together, the runes connected to form an unfamiliar emblem.

“Each time I shake the runes, they form the same symbol.”

“How do they do this?”

The mage shook his end. “Devil’s hellfire, if I know. Rune magic is very mysterious. But if we can decipher this symbol, we will know their name.”

“Ah,” Tolan had grown weary. “I need to warn the King. We must amass and meet the invaders head-on.”

“Tolan,” Sooth-Malesh grabbed him by the arm. “If they do happen to find the other pieces of the stone, they would be unstoppable. All of Athora will fall.”

Tolan pulled away and rushed outside the spire and down to the inner courtyard.

###

“You cannot enter!” The palace guard blocked Tolan from passing the main doors into the King’s foyer.

“I must see the King; he must know of the danger!”

“Only the High Guardsman may enter. Go see Jorrel.”

“He won’t listen to me! His logic is clouded. The city mage has seen it. We are all in grave danger.”

“The city mage? The man who saw Fire Gods in the sky, and they were nothing but comets? Or the man who saw the spirit of the King’s first wife entering the palace, but it was only fog?”

“This is different. There are signs: there’s thunder in the mist; our comrades have not returned. I’ve seen the runes in our mage’s chambers, myself. Now let me in!”

The guard refused to budge, pointing his lance at Tolan’s chest.

That was the final straw. Tolan’s patience had indeed run out. He grabbed hold of the lance and yanked it out of the guard’s hands. He swung it upside the man’s head and sent him crashing to the ground. Tolan rushed the doors, pushing them open with a clatter.

Servants and musicians ran out of sight. Tolan heard a few cries and gasps. He stormed through the foyer and into the courtyard, but there was no one about. He flew up a flight of stairs to the throne room, and thrust the doors open. The throne was empty.

Tolan spun around and rushed back down the stairs, where the guard charged him. Tolan ducked andsped down a grand hall full of tapestries and chandeliers and sconces, past the kitchen that was filled with the scent of baked bread and bubbling stews. Finally he reached the dining room.

He flung open the doors, and found the rotund King Enrille seated at a table for twenty with only his new wife and two kitchen maids, holding trays of food and wine. He’d just taken a bite out of a huge wild turkey leg when Tolan interrupted.

The King’s eyes widened, but he finished his mouthful before putting the turkey down. “Excuse me, young sir, are you lost?”

“No, sire. I am sorry to disturb you, but I must speak to you about a great danger to our city.”

“Great danger? Would I not have heard of this danger by now? Would you like some turkey with dressing? It is delicious!”

“No, your majesty. This is very important.”

“How about some biscuits and gravy?”

“Begging your pardon, sire. It’s about the mist in the Fifling Sea on the Red Coast. An army has come through the mist and is attacking the land.”

“The mist? There are no lands beyond the mist! There cannot be any army attacking the land! You must be mistaken, young sir.”

Tolan rolled his eyes. “If someone could just listen for a moment!”

Two soldiers rushed Tolan, seizing him and putting chains around his wrists. “Unhand me!”

“Tolan!” Jorrel stormed into the dining room. “You are a disgrace! I can’t believe the audacity of your act! We beg your forgiveness, your majesty.”

The King smiled and nodded, turning his attention to his wife, and tickling her under the chin.

“Come, bring Tolan.” Jorrel ordered the guards, and they dragged him from the palace.

They drew across the city streets to the stockade. Tolan was disarmed and tossed in. It was full of straw and was damp; mold clung to its walls.

“Tolan, why do you make me do this?” Jorrel asked. “You struck a palace guard. Now I have to react, and I don’t want to. You’re my friend.”

Tolan grabbed the bars. “If you are my friend, then listen to me! Sooth-Malesh is right! We are all in danger, all of Athora! Our world will fall if we don’t take action!”

“Tolan,” Jorrel half-smiled. “You’ll see, when the next rotation of the Circle Guard return, you can, at last, relax. You’ll see how silly you’re being. Spend one night in the stockade to clear your head. I’ll let you out in the morning.”

“It’s you who will see. Blast you, Jorrel, you’re condemning us all! If we act now, we can avoid our fate! Jorrel!”

The commander of the High Guard would not listen, and disappeared from his sight.



Up high in the black spires, Sooth-Malesh gazed out of the window and into the distance at the black smoke trickling on the horizon. He closed his eyes: a vision of the Grimstone appeared. It was whole again.