The Three Charms

by Brian Spielbauer

  “As you can tell, it is Erol’s father,” Tegan answered. “Nothing yet remains of Sundaland but several dots of small islands on its periphery. They sought refuge for their people and we welcomed them. Their warriors will be of great help to us,” Tegan recalled. Cergon’s arrival ended his thoughts. The centaur rode up fast on them, hearing the last of their talk.

  “We are eternally grateful for the generosity offered us by the dwarves, something we had not previously heard of or expected,” Cergon took Kyrie’s hand. He then looked to Tegan and quietly said, “Forgive me for earlier. It is not my place to question your path or intentions. Only tell me where to be and when.”

  Tegan accepted his apology but did not reply. Something told him he hadn’t heard the last from the testy centaur lord, his appreciation of the acknowledgement notwithstanding.

  “If Herrog sought an alliance with the centaurs, we should assume there are others also that have been asked. Many would not have had the strength or fortitude to withstand his often-convincing invitations,” Kyrie offered as a warning.

  At last, the wagon carrying Gulac and Quelna noisily creaked up on of the rocky fingers to the steps just below Tegan. Those present parted to allow room for the elder travelers. The wizard spryly hopped down and then nimbly and fervently climbed the steps to address Kyrie. Quelna almost skipped up the small hurdles, as he could barely control his excitement from seeing his old friend.

  “Lord of, well, what do you call your home now?” Quelna clumsily asked Kyrie. “The Demon’s Chamber is hardly a fit name for what is now such a beautiful place.” The happiness of the wizard almost ousted Telon’s distrust of him, almost.

  “The Castle Klar, which means ‘clean’. We have started anew! Though we have accomplished much, thanks to our dwarf friends, we still have a lot of work to do. I believe it will do for now, as the mountain and our people continue to heal every day,” Kyrie replied. Then he noticed a little old dwarf peering untrustingly out of the back of the wagon. He wore a look of terror on his face as he hid in the safety of the little carriage. The petrified dwarf looked untrustingly on the mountain where he spent many years imprisoned. Wicked shadows of the trees fell hard on him as the sun continued moving lower in the sky with evening approaching. He seemed in complete darkness as he sunk under the canopy of the wagon, wishing to be somewhere, anywhere but there.

  Gulac’s contorted face spoke of pain and terror. Had he known they would come this way he would have never agreed to go. He already spent too many years of his life in this mountain, enduring unmerciful torture at the hands of Herrog. Tegan was careful not to let Gulac know his intended path, as he needed Gulac more than he needed any other.

  Quelna started down the steps to aid his travel partner but Kyrie stayed him. The gargoyle walked slowly down the steps toward Gulac, hands held palm up as a sign of welcome without threat. He was hoping he would be able to brighten some of the darkness bore by Gulac, for he knew the pain delivered by the gargoyles themselves. He also wished to show the scared dwarf a far more tender side of his people. The sight of the monstrous Kyrie coming at him made Gulac fall farther back into the wagon, searching for cover. “No! Please, someone help me!” Gulac screamed, hoping for aid. To him, it was Sain himself, coming fast for another round of limitless torture and agony. The anticipation of which nearly murdered his fragile soul, which only recently gained enough courage to attempt to mend. He wished to be back in his cell. Strangely, the place for years was the only safety he knew, the only reprieve from the whips and strains that further afflicted his sense of soul.

  “Friend, I am not here to hurt you,” Kyrie implored Gulac in his softest of voice, as he reached in and picked up the smallish, shaking man. He pitied Gulac and the pain he endured for years on end. He had full knowledge of the lessons in torment Sain gleefully availed himself too. Only when it was too late did Kyrie fully comprehend why his rival was so sinisterly inclined.

  “Won’t you help me?” Gulac begged to Tegan and those watching, knowing the gargoyle was taking him back to his cell, back to the seclusion and pain. All watching felt for Gulac, his heart ripping anew for all to see as he squirmed in vain in the mighty gargoyle’s pitying arms. The memories of his imprisonment rushed back as fast as the snap of the whips with which he was all too familiar.

  “Gulac, you need not fear me, I am your friend,” Kyrie enlightened, his compassion sought the smallest opening into Gulac’s battered heart. The sincerity of expression drew Gulac’s attention. Kyrie saw the pause and ventured further, “Only good gargoyles yet remain here. We continue our work to cleanse this mountain and rebuild it. Only one yet remains of the wickedness that resided here. I pledge my help to aid you, in honor of your years of sacrifice and in your brave offer to lead us to him.”

  Gulac slowly looked around at those present, peering out the opening at the back of the wagon. He saw their approving nods and that none of the others feared Kyrie. He looked back at the large gargoyle who gently picked him up and set him on his feet. The gargoyle then knelt before the dwarf in submission. Gulac held back, reluctant to trust, resistant to befriending a gargoyle.

  “I was tortured by your kind. They killed many, many good people of all lands,” Gulac stuttered as he began speaking, his jaw shook uncontrollably as tears raced to his chin. It was as if he was talking to the world and not the gargoyle before him. Then he directed his attention as his own awareness sharpened, squinting at Kyrie. He tried to see past the wrappings of the being before him, as they so often hide the desires and intentions. He wanted to see what lay within his soul. Directly to Kyrie he disdainfully questioned the gargoyle, just as a father would do before an expected scolding of his child, “Did you have a part in what happened to me?”

  “No, I did not. Sain threw me out and tried to have me killed. My own family perished at his hands,” Kyrie explained, the sound of the name was like a sword slash to Gulac, who glanced quickly away at the blow, as if knocked back. Kyrie caught him, “I killed him and many of my own kind because of what they did. I ask that you remember that it was a kind gargoyle that fed you many years to keep you alive.”

  Gulac’s eyes opened, as if a long-forgotten memory suddenly rushed back in, “Yes, a kind gargoyle he was. He gave me food and water and talked to me when no one could. He continued to do so when I couldn’t even make words myself. Yes, he was very kind,” Gulac excitedly remembered. Then he quickly grew sullen again, “Others were there too.” Gulac recalled there were many gargoyles imprisoned with him in other cells, many who never made it out.

  He wrapped Kyrie’s massive hand in his, as the last of his frozen block of distrust melted away, “You are here to help us?” Gulac asked. Kyrie nodded yes, reassuring the dwarf.

  “We have no dwarves or other creatures in those prisons,” Kyrie confirmed, “They are destroyed and buried, never to be discovered or used again.”

  Gulac looked again to Tegan, needing one last verification from another. Tegan nodded his agreement to Kyrie’s statement. Gulac smiled to Kyrie, accepting him then and there. He stood tall and looked out over the wreckage that was wrought from Herrog’s evil and asserted to all, “Then I pray that together we can rid Lemuria of Herrog forever!”

  Those watching cheered Gulac’s prayer, as the well-earned distrust of the old dwarf slipped away. Then Cergon looked around too, as there stood with him gargoyles, dwarves and human men. A group of diverse people uniting to fight Herrog and his destruction. If Gulac could come to trust a gargoyle, he could do no less to the centaurs and the rest.

  “That is my intention, even though death may find me first.” Kyrie said to Gulac, though no one else heard over the boisterous shouting. It honored Kyrie to meet the dwarf that lived, the one who survived the rule of Sain and Herrog.

  Kyrie turned and helped Gulac up the remaining steps. Together they entered the opening of the mountain to the large entry room, carved from the lava rock by Deron and his men.

  Though not much more than an openin
g, the dwarves hewed it directly from the new stone, using some of its original outlines, plus a few new turns long the edges to suit the desires of the new Lord. Along the back of the opening stood a wall, with wavy lines of rock that told not only of the recent eruption but also of the many over time that produced the rock on which the mountain stood. Defiantly against the hardened lava and previous rock, the dwarves ensured exact and straight lines to mark the base and top of the wall against the curvy tapestry behind it. Against this back wall stood the openings to the halls leading below, with only one of them mined to the point it led away and down. Several holes, already there in the new rock, spoke of the old hallways. The dwarves widened the holes just large enough for a small dwarf to squeeze into them, enabling the search of the hall as far as the small tunnels would allow.

  From the back wall leading out, and ever wider apart as they went, were the two side walls. The same waved backdrop of rock rolled across it. At the edge and opening, the dwarves carved gigantic pillars on each side, which signaled the strength of the people within and the order in which they would lead their lives. Lastly, in the center of the opening, which jetted out farther than the two sides, stood a last large signature pillar, wider and stouter than the other two. Black as darkness, it supported the girth of the mountain above. This room was finished completely, down to the polished stone floors and walls, which were not unlike any of the stone floors found in the city of Tunder Bin. While it was only the beginning, it was a tremendous start.

  In the middle of the room sat a long stone table, one Kyrie asked Deron to make for him. It was as deep black as the signature pillar and as brilliant as anything the other dwarves had seen. Like the pillars, Deron made the table from only the darkest of the molten rock. It was smooth on all edges and appeared to be seamless. Tegan wondered aloud, “Deron, perhaps you have missed your calling! At the very least something of this level could be prepared for your own King, don’t you think?”

  Deron smiled and agreed, “It will be an honor and at the top of my list when I return.”

  Jaric added for his son, “But it will be just under the list of things he needs to complete for his wife first.” Deron enjoyed the laughter at his expense and the moment of praise, not being above the need for such things.

  When all found a seat around the large table, with Erol and Belgin straddling the pillar in the entrance to further enclose the room and discussion, Kyrie and Deron stood in front of the gathering and began.

  “I first need to thank Tegan for sending Deron to us. He and his skilled crew have taught us much in the trade of mining and due to their diligent work, they carved this stunning room we sit in. We thank you for your sacrifice and efforts on our behalf.” With that, Kyrie made a bowing gesture toward Tegan first and then Deron.

  Then he continued, “Deron has led an advance crew through many investigations of the mountain passages that are available to us. They have mapped what was left open by the lave flows. I will let him take the lead,” Kyrie said, introducing Deron. Jaric was proud of his oldest son and the many successes he had as he grew older. He would soon take Jaric’s place as head of the Guard.

  “Much of the lower levels were completely blocked with new rock, but there were a few places that were left relatively untouched. Even some of those, while not ruined by the lava, the shifting mountain and falling rock wrecked. Eventually we will excavate them to the desire of Kyrie but that will take many years to complete. We were, however, able to find a path to a few of the higher chambers that were left untouched. In one, we found several scripts that you will find interesting. The gargoyles used ancient runes to write the scripts. Kyrie will read them to you.” Deron then invited Kyrie to take center stage again as he stepped back.

  Kyrie leaned over the massive stone table they sat around, carefully opening the first of the fragile scripts, laying it on the table of stone in front of him for all to see. The paper was yellow with age, with the edges jagged from years upon years of use. Telon helped to hold it open so it would not recoil as it had spent most of its life tightly rolled. They marveled at the ancient text and the sharp letters that covered it. Kyrie and the well-learned Master Quelna were the only two present who could read the texts.

  “The first is a story of the beginning of Lemuria, as has been handed down through many generations of gargoyles. We believe we were the first creatures to call Lemuria home, followed next by the dwarves and so on.” Many at the table assumed they were the first ones to Lemuria, but few kept track of their history like the earliest gargoyles of old. The scroll entranced them as their gaze and focus locked on Kyrie’s every word. “The first reads as follows:

  Born from burst of fire and lava at the separating ocean floor,

  Lemuria was called from the depths of the great sea!

  The three charms were soon cast in the heart of the First Mountain,

  As the Creator of the Charms commanded them to be.

  Two were to help the wielder,

  giving power by their possession.

  The first clear as water with dark piercing light,

  Gifting the influence of persuasion.

  The second, clear at first,

  but quickly it became stained red.

  Fore-telling of the scarred earth,

  From the spilled blood of the many dead.

  It provided the power of awareness and insight;

  To fight despair and dread.

  The last, the most powerful, was but a simple stone.

  None who knew it would have it, but on enemies it was bestowed.

  The Stone of Doom and Ruin, is how it would be known.

  It brought sorrow and doubt, where the seeds of destruction sown.

  The first two meant to combat that last.

  In the hands of evil,

  the first two must never pass.

  The owner of both will have few to fear,

  the owner of all three, the role of ruler cast.

  As Kyrie finished, he looked at the others. Several looked around, as if the shadows watched them. Their paranoid concern pulling at them for who might have also heard the foreboding and ominous words. Kyrie spoke first, “Some of this seems clear, while other parts I struggle to understand.”

  “The first stone would seem to be the one Herrog possesses, as he is both powerful and persuasive. Could the second be the stone that Milan split, one part in Tegan’s axe and the other in her necklace? If so, does that make Tunder Bin the first mountain the script speaks of?” Quelna postulated to the group, knowing far more than he let on.

  “Where was the stone found, exactly?” Dorir asked.

  “Erol, were you not there when it was found?” Fiji added, looking to the ogre.

  Erol had to think, remembering that day, “Milan was by the river, not in the mountain, when she found it.”

  “The river flows from the mountain. I believe the story was Deyanira persuaded her to look there to find it, as it was spring. Is that correct?” Quelna again questioned, making a hard insinuation of Telon’s mother’s involvement, which many were hearing for the first time.

  “It is. She told Milan to look there,” Tegan spoke, his mixed feelings for his dead step-mother and her role in Milan’s capture rising again. Telon too looked pained as they spoke his mother’s name.

  “Then we must also consider the possibility that the stone was placed there by Deyanira, or perhaps a gargoyle under Sain’s control. Perhaps it did not come from the mountain at all,” Quelna explained, making sure to cover all the possibilities.

  “Why would Herrog take one of the mightiest jewels of all and place it for Milan to find? That does not make sense to me,” Telon challenged, eyeing Quelna.

  “Young dwarf,” Quelna began, minimizing Telon’s insight, “You must consider all things. Did he not intend on taking Milan that day, and if so, would he have not attained the jewel again? It could be the stone was nothing more than a lure to get Milan there and that Erol’s fateful arrival that day thwarted f
ar more than we first thought.”

  “A mighty lure indeed,” Telon stated, his dislike, distrust and disinterest in having the wizard around was growing by the moment.

  The insinuation that Deyanira had gone even farther than previously conceived reopened the brother’s wounds further. They had no ground to stand on and no cause for argument. Their gashes of pain getting wider, the wounds ones with which no one present could help.

  “What of the Stone of Doom and Ruin? We have not spoken of that?” Kyrie asked, as he had no knowledge of what it might be.

  Tegan and Telon knew too well the stone and each waited for Quelna to answer the call.

  “Of that stone,” the dwarf wizard began, and then paused. He did not look to the brothers and then finished, “little is known. I have an idea of what it might be and even of its location. I will continue to track it and let you know when I am able to attain it.” Only at the end, after looking to the others that stood there, did his eyes connect with Tegan and Telon. The brothers knew from his look and actions to say nothing. They would discuss the stone at a later time, with far fewer ears around.

  “Kyrie, you said there were two scripts?” Fiji asked. He wanted all the mysteries out.

  “Yes, there is another,” Kyrie said as he opened the other script on the table. It also was written in the ancient runes and very difficult to read. After rolling out the scroll, with Tegan’s aid, he began again, “It speaks to the ‘Creator of the Charms’ and of his intentions. It goes like this:

  The Creator of the Charms

  Left behind the Jewels of Light,

  ‘Er he created them and the lands from fire,

  Until the lands cooled, they left his sight.

  The stone of Doom and Ruin,

  He let lay,

  Allowing its evil run loose to harm,