by M. D. Grimm
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
Peridot: War and Peace
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2013 by M.D. Grimm
Cover illustration by BSClay
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-514-0
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: July 2013
Printed in the USA
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Peridot: War and Peace
By M.D. Grimm
Chapter One
I scowled as I read the letter. It was the third of its kind. It used nearly the same words and phrases as its predecessors, only this one was more urgent. Threatening. I don’t respond well to threats.
“We request your presence” -- which meant they demanded it -- “at the White Tower” -- which was where meetings regarding mage business took place. The letter continued, “regarding recent events concerning a sorcerer and one of the Pferun Dulleriin. As this is our third correspondence without an answer, we will take required action. We wish to make this a civilized interaction, but further resistance from you will force our hand.”
The letter continued with more not-so-well disguised threats and ultimatums. Exhausted, not just from the long morning I’d had, but from the Council of Mage’s constant bombardment, I crumpled the letter -- as I had done with the others -- and tossed it into the ferocious fire in my hearth. I stared angrily at the cackling flames before glancing at the querian that had brought the letter. The little beast was pooped and currently sleeping on a pillow on one of my sofas. She was small and slender with leathery wings, a thick tail, and four stubby legs. Her head was disproportionally large, and two little horns grew on either side of it. She was a deep purple and was the spitting image of her much larger cousins, the payshthas.
I left her to her dreams, knowing she would leave as soon as she awakened. I’d had the boygles leave a small plate of meat and a bowl of water on the table next to her.
She would need refreshment before she battled the beastly weather outside. I walked out of the small parlor and across the entryway, where to my right were the front doors and to my left was the grand staircase that led to the upper levels.
My entryway was done in rich blues, and the banister was carved out of the reddish wood from the ellin tree. The carpet under my feet was thick and partially covered the cold marble floors. An intricate Hunter’s knot pattern was woven into the carpet, and it danced under the torch lights from the candelabras that graced my walls. The knot was shaped like a head with horns that stretched out in a slightly curved shape. The lines wove in and out from each other, very similar to the Celtic knot humans loved so much on Earth.
I’d been to Earth several times -- it’s in another dimension. The portal I used was located in the center of my forest, Vorgoroth.
I glanced up at my high ceiling, and the torch light illuminated another knot pattern, but this one was a circle, carved into the stone. It was the Mother’s knot, our Creator.
More intricate than the Hunter’s knot, the circular pattern symbolized eternity and unity.
I entered the largest of my parlors -- which was done in rich purple and white wood -- walked over to a cushioned chair, and fell onto it. A male boygle silently stepped back from the hearth where he’d been feeding the fire, bowed to me, and scuffled away. Boygles were vicious little monsters who dyed their clothes red with the blood of their kill. They were extremely ugly, with wrinkled skin, bulging eyes, and pointy toes and fingers. But they were efficient at the chores and maintenance of a fortress this big. They were a big reason why Geheimnis was as clean and organized as she was. They were also powerful little protectors.
They had lived in this mountain before I’d claimed this territory as my own. I’d had to blast away half of their tribe before earning their respect. Just one more distasteful but necessary thing I’d had to do in my life.
I stared at the small, decorative items on the mantelpiece over the hearth and a nice glow of pride flashed through me. Some mages used illusions to make their homes grander than they were. Not me. Everything from the topmost tower to the caverns under the mountains where Geheimnis sat -- which was what I named my castle fortress home -- was real. And it was mine. I had put my sweat and blood into this place, and I was damn proud of her. She was made to be feared. She was made to send a message -- don’t fuck with the Dark Mage of the North. Or East. Or West. Depends on where you lived, I suppose.
The mage was me, if you hadn’t guessed.
Sighing heavily, I stared at the hearth before me.
Another large fire burned, trying to beat back the cold that penetrated Geheimnis’ walls. There was no subtlety when the seasons changed in the northern part of the continent.
When the Mother decided it was winter, it was winter; the same with summer, begsumer, and begwinter -- which were the milder seasons between summer and winter.
Right now, it was decidedly winter. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but I expected it any day now. Geheimnis’ walls could not keep out the Mother’s cold fingers. I flexed my own fingers as I stared deeper into the fire, becoming entranced by the flickering flames. The Mother was the entity that had created this universe that my home planet of Karishian resided in, and damn, did she have a wicked sense of humor. But she also had a maternal side, often visiting her children in dreams or visions, warning them of impending danger. Or she actually visited her children in the flesh -- so to speak -- and she could be seen as a maiden, a mature woman, or an old crone. She didn’t reside on a bejeweled throne in the heavens, nor on a dark throne in the Underworld. She controlled life and death, but she didn’t “rule” us; she didn’t punish or reward us for things we did, or if we invoked her name in battle. She lived in the background, only coming to us when she had a mind to.
She didn’t dictate our actions. I like to think she guided us.
She wrote the destinies of all the creatures that resided on Karishian -- it was her world after all, forever until the End.
But she allowed most to follow their paths to their destinies without any interference from her.
She will always be the Creator and the Destroyer, the Mother and the Blood-soaked Warrior. She and her companion, the Hunter, dictated the fate of Karishian.
According to all the legends and myths, she didn’t want us to fear her. She wanted us to respect and love her and to not dread what destiny she wrote for us.
Easier said than done. Especially for me.
I shivered. I hated winter. I remembered nights as a child, freezing in the basement of my family’s home. It was rather amazing that I hadn’t died of exposure. Helpless, starving, only skin and bone. Never once knowing an affectionate touch or kindness. Alone. Hated.
Trained.
My fingers dug into the arms of the chair as my insides grew as cold as the winds outside. I pushed to my feet and walked to the large one-way window that dominated the wall to my right, looking out over Vorgoroth. While I could clearly see outside, no one looking in could see inside.
The wind blew harshly at my trees, bending them, ripping the last lingering leaves off their branches. The sky was fierce -- gray and overcast, threatening an
other storm. I clenched my jaw to keep it from chattering. Memories of my past always made me cold inside. A cold that was hard to banish, one that sank deep into my bones, threatening to snap them in half.
I scowled at myself for thinking about my childhood, for allowing that letter to shake me. I hadn’t had direct dealings with the Council for several years, and I had been grateful for that. Now that was all gone, shattered. Now I had them breathing down my neck. Again.
I was the seventh son of a seventh son, which meant my destiny was to become a powerful and deadly mage: a Destroyer. There were two other well-known mages with the same doomed birth as me and they had nearly destroyed Karishian on their quest for power. Many saw me as being worse because I was the third one born with this dark lineage. There were certain numbers that held power in our world, and the most powerful of these were 3 and 7. I was the seventh son of a seventh son and the third in the line.
All other mages feared me and wondered when I would embrace the darkness.
I wondered as well.
The sky darkened and I studied my faded reflection in the window. My face could best be described as angular and the paleness of my skin that rarely saw the sun highlighted my dark brown eyes and shadowy black hair.
My dress was unusual for a mage. Early on, I had decided to discard the traditional robes and go for something more comfortable that didn’t hinder my movements. I wore a long jacket that had a high collar and long sleeves, which covered the majority of my scars. Clasps held my jacket together in the front, but at my waist it divided and became cape-like and swirled around my legs in a dramatic fashion.
I wore trousers that were light and breathable, and my boots came up to mid-calf, buckled tightly to my legs. Everything was black, of course, but there was silver trimming around my cuffs and collar, and the belt around my waist was also silver. It was laden with various pouches of magickal bric-a-brac. While I was good with evocation, sometimes magick needed a subtler approach.
Turning away from the gloomy view, I sat down again.
Leaning into the cushy material, I forced my brain to shift toward present events -- which were much more pleasant to think about. I had just finished changing another room’s enchantments to recognize Aishe and to not treat him like an intruder.
My dialen lover always put a kingdom-wide smile on my face. He was a lover I’d only had for two weeks. I still delighted to remember his temper when we first met, the anger sparking in his green eyes, his impatience as he told me his name, pronouncing it “Ash”. It was actually a dialen word that meant “one who sees”. Aishe explained that it meant one who sees into another’s heart or soul. Someone who sees the true self of everyone he meets. It was a hefty name to carry around, but in my opinion, he lived up to it.
He’d certainly seen straight through me.
We’d met while tracking down a sorcerer named Kayl who had stolen Rambujek, a ruby, which was one of the Stones of Power. The Pferun Dulleriin. They were stones that legend said had been created by the first seven mages ever born. The stones’ numbers were unknown, as well as all their names and what they did. But they were addictive and tempting. They seduced all that approached them.
Kayl had massacred Aishe’s entire tribe to obtain that ruby, which Aishe’s tribe had been guarding. We’d managed to kill the sorcerer, and I now had the ruby locked up in a hidden vault, along with the five other Stones of Power I kept hidden.
I really hated those damned things. I kept them only to keep them out of the hands of those who were weaker and power-hungry. Those who would have no hesitation to use them. They were menaces, and Kayl had been ready to destroy all of Karishian just because he wasn’t born as powerful as he thought he should be. Arrogant prick.
And that damn ruby was the reason the Council was threatening me.
I snuggled deeper into the chair and thought of Aishe again. My smile deepened. He was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. As well as the most terrifying.
Why he wanted me, I didn’t think I’d ever understand.
But I was forever grateful. He was currently in Vorgoroth, exploring it, I think he said. He’d taken his quiver of arrows and his bow, so I assumed he would practice his archery as well. I wasn’t worried about him visiting the forest alone -- he had the amethyst pendant I’d made years ago. I’d made it when I’d first claimed Vorgoroth and the mountain upon which Geheimnis sat as my own. The pendant was a protective charm that would allow him to bypass all the enchantments inside Geheimnis. It also alerted the creatures that inhabited my forest that he was never to be harmed.
The wichtln would protect him in my absence. They were my lieutenants and would stay loyal to me as long as I stayed powerful and formidable.
Aishe was the reason I was tired. All the enchantments in my home only recognized me and my boygle minions, and would unleash their fury on any intruder. The amethyst pendant around Aishe’s neck kept him safe from harm, but I wanted a permanent fix -- what if he lost the pendant? He would be defenseless. I couldn’t take that risk. I wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to harm him -- especially me and my creations.
But changing all the enchantments in Geheimnis was no easy task. For one, I had hundreds of rooms, which meant hundreds of enchantments. Some were more complex than others, but all of them were delicate and time-consuming.
I’d managed to change the enchantments for my bedroom, one of the bathrooms, and my three parlors on the ground floor, and the gargoyles that roosted on my towers now considered Aishe a friend. I’d just finished the armory, and now my stone guard dogs would never attack Aishe, with or without the pendant.
But there were still hundreds to go. I groaned and slid down in my chair. I stared at the high ceiling, shaking my head. This would take years, no doubt.
I’d managed, however, to develop a fairly sufficient process. Each room was charged with one or more crystals, which acted like batteries to keep the enchantment charged with magick. I always had to pump more magick into those crystals to keep the enchantment active, but that wasn’t very difficult. But to change the enchantments, I had to deactivate the crystals and rework the enchantment -- which meant I had to remember how I built the enchantment in the first place. That was the trickiest part.
I had to build the enchantment again from the ground up. I had to be careful when I removed the crystal, however, and drained it of the magick. If I wasn’t careful, it would blow up in my face; that would hurt like a bitch. But I managed.
Aishe was worth it.
Guilt gnawed at me as my mind turned back toward the three letters I’d received in the last week. It was a new sensation for me -- I didn’t often feel guilt, not like this. The letters were from the same mage -- a dog of the Council -- and I had not yet told Aishe about them. Why worry him until I had a plan of action? I knew that if I ignored the summons one or more mages would show up on my doorstep eventually. But how was I to respond with diplomacy when all I wanted to do was write, “Fuck you”?
I knew what the Council wanted. They never said their exact intentions in any of the letters, but I could read between the lines. They wanted Rambujek.
Not for the first time, I thought about Master Ulezander, my mentor and trainer. Maybe I should contact him; he might have a plan -- he always did. But I hadn’t spoken to him in years. And it irritated me that I even contemplated asking for help. I was Morgorth, for the Mother’s sake, the resident Dark Mage, the ruler of the Dark Forest, the Overlord of Happy Valley. I kept the kingdoms north and south of me from claiming my territory. I instilled fear in all who met me.
I shook my head. This was my battle. Master Ulezander and Aishe had nothing to do with it. This was a vendetta between me and the Council, started at the moment of my birth -- the moment they learned of my existence.
The large front doors of Geheimnis swung open behind me. I smiled again but didn’t move. The doors thundered close, and I could barely hear Aishe’s light footsteps on the marble floors. His boots squeaked
slightly until he walked on the thick carpet, which muffled him completely. I heard the rustle of cloth and knew he was taking off his thick coat that I’d had made especially for him -- the boygles were skilled in many trades.
“Morgorth?”
“In here,” I said. Aishe came into my line of vision as he walked around to stand in front of me. The fire light reflected off his white hair, and I could smell the forest on him. He wore his usual tunic and leggings, which were both a pale blue today. His eyes -- which were a stunning green -- considered me, and I knew he saw my exhaustion. But I made sure he couldn’t see my guilt. I had to handle those mages by myself. Aishe was not part of that world. I didn’t want him to be.
“You look like you’re about to fall asleep.” Aishe knelt in front of me. He placed his bow and quiver on the floor before scooting between my legs.
My heart jumped a beat and sped up slightly. “Nah, it’s not that type of exhaustion.”
Aishe placed his hands on my legs, suspiciously close to my crotch, wearing a gentle smile on his face. He was very pretty -- his face regal with elegantly shaped cheekbones and a straight nose. His body was athletically built like his species was prone to, but he also kept it stringently in shape. He was around six feet tall, which made him slightly taller than me. That used to annoy me -- now I found it arousing.
“Maybe you should take a break.” Aishe rubbed my thighs. “I won’t lose the pendant. I never take it off.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind. Makes me familiar with my home again. I think I even managed to strengthen most of my enchantments the second time around.”
Aishe continued to smile, tilting his head slightly to one side. His hair slid over his shoulder. “I know you’re doing all this for me,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
I cleared my throat and nodded. When he looked at me like that, it was hard for me to form words, let alone sentences. It also made a strange fluttering sensation appear in my stomach that wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.
