The Black Shard

by Victoria Simcox

  "Heerzek," Werrien said, "you're fortunate that I don't have any strength left in me, for if I did, I'd gut your poisonous entrails out of you and then shove Sentiz inside your corpse."

  After a disgruntled look at Werrien, Heerzek and Sentiz spoke quietly to each other, and when they were done, Heerzek said, "Werrien, do you and your pretty little girlfriend like surprises?"

  "Don't forget; she's really not that pretty anymore," Sentiz added.

  "Yes, of course. Those sores do take their toll after a while," Heerzek joked dementedly, "when there are so many of them, they start connecting with one another, leaving little room for skin. Werrien?" Heerzek said, but Werrien didn't respond, so Heerzek shoved him with his foot.

  "Don't think I'm going to let you get off as easy as falling asleep in death," Sentiz said. "Sit him up," she ordered Heerzek. Heerzek promptly went down on his knees and propped Werrien up into a sitting position. Werrien's eyes were half closed.

  "Open those pretty, blue eyes, boy!" Sentiz growled.

  Werrien's eyes half opened.

  "This surprise is for you as well," Sentiz said to Kristina, knowing she was staring into the Black Shard. Sentiz turned to look at the sloping hillside behind her. Then she clapped her hands a couple of times. "Come now, my dear one," she said.

  A girl came walking up the hillside. Kristina couldn't believe it when she saw her, Werrien was surprised as well.

  Hester? Kristina thought, bewildered.

  It was Hester, all right, wearing a long, fancy, purple gown. Kristina and Werrien both noticed something different about her. She was slightly slimmer and darkly seductive-looking.

  "It figures," Werrien said to Hester. "Sentiz has convinced you to join her motley crew."

  Smiling, Hester strode over to Heerzek, and Heerzek put his arm around her. The two of them kissed, and Heerzek gently pushed a few strands of Hester's long blonde hair behind her ear.

  Her ears are pointed, like Heerzek's, Kristina noticed.

  "How sweet," Werrien said sarcastically. "You sold your soul to Resucca to become a shamel like Heerzek."

  "There's so much you don't know, Werrien," Hester said, smiling, her cunning eyes narrowing. "First off, my name is not Hester; it's Strolin. Hester Crumeful is just a stupid name I picked up off a business card that I found on the street when I first arrived on Earth. Second, I was sent to Earth to keep an eye on Kristina. Originally, the plan was for me to develop a close friendship with her, but honestly, Werrien, I think you're really the only one I know who could put up with her. I could hardly stand being around her." Strolin paused to smile at Heerzek and gently ran the back of her hand across his cheek. "The best I could be, was her worst enemy." Heerzek nuzzled Strolin like a lovesick cat. "Thirdly, I've always been shamel, and fourthly, I sold my soul to Resucca way before you were ever born." She took a moment to admire the lace on the cuff of her sleeve. Then she looked at Werrien and smiled. "You know, Werrien," she said softly, "you might consider doing the same." She waved her hand nonchalantly at him. "I mean, to get rid of all this pain and turmoil stuff."

  Werrien shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I think the three of you will do just fine, roasting in the pit of hell, without me."

  "A toasty fire sounds pleasant compared to what I'm going to do with you," Sentiz chortled softly. She looked at Heerzek. "Well, then, enough petty conversation with the boy." Then she turned toward the sloping hillside. "Irgul!" she called in a screechy voice.

  Except for the wind whistling over the soft green grass, there was an eerie calm. Then it was broken by a wheezing sound. A moment later, a grotesque, greenish-gray head popped up over the sloping hillside. It was the Irgul. With long, slow strides it strode to the top of the hill, where it stopped and stood a few feet from Sentiz, Heerzek, and Strolin.

  "So, this must be your upgraded version of the zelbock," Werrien said.

  The creature did kind of look similar to the zelbock, only it was taller and leaner. It had rippling muscles all over its body, and it stood up straight, where the zelbock had a hunched back.

  "I'm not sure what to name him," Sentiz said, drumming her long red nails on her taut throat. "Maybe you can help me out, Werrien. What sounds better to you? Should I call him Irgul?"

  "But Irgul is what he is," Heerzek said. "I think he needs a name other than that."

  "Or ..." Sentiz went on, "should I call him by his other name—Graham?"

  Werrien's usually tanned complexion was now a pasty white. His head fell forward and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

  "Since he's too feeble to respond, I suppose that I'll have to decide on my own," Sentiz said. "Okay! Graham it will be." She turned to face the Irgul. "Graham?" she said, but then she shook her head. "Hmm ... maybe 'Irgul' does suit you better. I can't decide."

  "What about his original name?" Strolin said.

  "Oh! Yes, of course! Margah," Sentiz said. "Nah! Graham it will be." She turned to face the Irgul who was standing over Werrien, breathing heavily and staring down at him. "Okay, Graham, you may get the boy, and be quick about it—we have a long night ahead of us."

  - 39 -

  Transparent Stones

  The Black Shard went dark, and the only light left was that of the lantern. There wasn't even one star in the sky to be seen; they were covered by a blanket of turbulent dark clouds.

  Tears streamed down Kristina's face. Even though she was in extreme pain from the multitude of sores covering her body, it was no comparison to the pain she felt in her heart for what had happened to Werrien.

  The black vines covering her body were numerous now, twisting and tangling around her in all directions and then drilling their pointy tips back into the ground. There were so many of them that they looked like a solid black mass.

  The wind picked up and blew out the frail fire in the lantern, making the atmosphere around Kristina completely dark. She felt a raindrop hit her forehead. Then, a moment later, it began to pour heavily. The rain pelted through the spaces between the overlapping vines. It felt like battery acid on Kristina's open wounds.

  When the vines first began entwining around her, they were soft and pliable, but now, they had become hard with a rough surface, like the bark on a tree. They tightened around Kristina's body, pressing her down toward the earth. She imagined herself as a grape being squashed through a winepress. Closing her eyes, she desperately hoped her innards wouldn't explode out of her. The pressure was so great that confusion took over her mind, and she couldn't think straight anymore. The names "Navesa" and "Sirus" suddenly flashed across her mind—she saw them in shiny gold letters. Even though delirious, Kristina felt oddly comforted by them—but only until the letters fizzled away like a disappearing vapor. Then a deep sense of loneliness overcame her, and she wanted to cry. Her thought pattern was suddenly interrupted by more letters appearing, swirling around and arranging themselves to spell the name "Graham." They were a beautiful royal blue color but then the color faded fast and turned a greenish-gray mold-like color, and suddenly, a foul odor—like that of rotting garbage—filled Kristina's senses. Then the letters fell apart and the smell left as well, but only for a moment, as the letters rearranged themselves to spell "Margah." The horrendous smell came back twice as strong, causing Kristina to choke and gag. Then, like dish soap poured into greasy water, the name Margah dispersed and different letters flooded into her mind's eye. They circled around and spelled "Resucca"—red-hot and pulsating. Then they spiraled in the opposite direction and rearranged themselves to spell "Accuser"—and the letters burst into flames. They drew nearer and nearer to Kristina, as if they were trying to set her mind on fire. The heat was so intense and painful, she imagined her brain liquefying in her skull. Then, suddenly, everything went black. The atmosphere became dead silent.

  Kristina opened her eyes, but because it was so very dark, she couldn't see anything. I'm dead, she thought. I'm really, truly dead this time. Suddenly, letters spelling "Elyon" flashed across her mind— br
ight-white and glowing. Kristina had seen this name before, but she was too exhausted to remember where. Then, like they had been hit by a bomb, they exploded apart, pieces flying in all directions. The particles from the letters came rushing back together and rearranged themselves to spell "Yolen." They were a shimmering pearl-white and blindingly bright. They brought about a feeling of warmth, security, and love but at the same time, there was a sense of power so great, Kristina was sure she was trembling before them. They were extremely painful to look at, but she kept her gaze upon them, her eyes tearing due to their intensity. At the same time, the vines began to squeeze her so very tight. She felt liquid trickle out of her nose, eyes, and ears and was sure it was her blood. She had one last breath left inside her, and she used it to scream out, "Save me, Yolen!"

  ~ ~ ~

  Confused and not remembering where she was, Kristina opened her eyes. A cool breeze blew through the cracks of the vines, which now covered her entire body, including her head. All she could see was a light gray color through them, and she felt cramped and claustrophobic, like she was encased in a coffin or a cocoon. Is this the afterlife? she wondered. Then she heard voices—familiar voices. Are the voices of spirits? She suddenly became aware of the thumping of her heart in her chest. I'm alive! she rejoiced.

  "Look!" one voice said.

  "What is it?" the other voice replied.

  Kristina heard rustling in the grass. Someone was approaching her. Through the tiny spaces between the tangled vines, she thought she saw someone standing on one side of her, and then she saw someone else approach her on her other side.

  "There she is!" one of the voices said. "She's buried under this mass of vines."

  The mysterious fellows went down on their knees, and with small knives they began to cut into the vines and pull them apart. A tanned, muscular arm reached inside the opening. Kristina recognized a tattoo on the wrist. It was the fairy blossom tattoo she had seen the day before. The blossom part was intact, but the stem was eaten away by a sore.

  "Tor!" she cried happily, grabbing onto the hand. I'm not paralyzed anymore, she realized. The hand gripped hers tightly and pulled her up and out of the vine casing. She was right—it was the rickshaw shamel.

  He smiled warmly at her. "My name is actually Hector," he said. "Hector Mysteria."

  "Are you the wizard of Tezerel who's been missing for many years?"

  "Yes, I am," Hector said.

  Kristina realized that she had heard two voices, and she turned to greet the other person—but he was no longer there. Her eyes trailed up the sloping hillside, and she caught sight of him, just as he reached the top of it. He turned around and waved to her.

  "Mr. Macgregor?" she said in amazement. He was dressed in all white and had a golden aura surrounding him.

  Hector came to stand by Kristina's side. "His real name is Reuel," he said.

  "Reu ... what?" Kristina said confused.

  "Re-u-el is how you pronounce it."

  "That's an odd name for a Scotsman."

  "It means friend of Yolen." Hector smiled. "He chose the disguise of Mr. Macgregor, your bus driver, so that he could keep a watchful eye on you. He said that it especially came in handy when you were younger, when Hester and Graham bullied you on the bus."

  "Wow! Now that you mention it," Kristina said, "there were many times on the bus that he did intervene and protect me from them."

  Hector looked intently at Kristina. "Do you have any idea how we were able to find you?" he said.

  Still staring at the top of the hill, where Reuel was no longer visible, Kristina shook her head.

  "It was our maker, Yolen, who heard your cry. He not only healed your sores, but he sent Reuel, your guardian, to me, so that together we could rescue you."

  Surprised, Kristina looked at Hector and then at her arms. They were again pale, smooth skin with no trace of sores. She knelt down and pulled up her pant legs. Her legs were smooth and clear of sores as well.

  "Is Mr. Macgregor—I mean, Reuel—is he my guardian angel?" Kristina asked.

  A smile formed on Hector's weathered face. "I know that he's not your typical-looking angel, but to answer your question, yes, he is."

  "Is he going to rescue Werrien as well?"

  The warm smile left Hector's face, and his dark brown eyes grew serious. "I'm afraid that there's no word on whether Werrien is alive."

  A lump filled Kristina's throat, and she felt her eyes well up with tears. She walked over to the spot where the Black Shard lay on the grass beside the crystal necklace, and Hector followed. The Black Shard was no longer black but transparent.

  "I wonder what happened to it," Kristina said.

  "It was cursed," Hector said, "but now the curse has been lifted."

  "What was the curse?"

  "Whoever was the first to become captivated by the Black Shard would be captured by Sentiz. The curse was actually meant for King Warren, but no doubt, Sentiz is pleased with having it come upon her second choice, his son, Werrien."

  Kristina shuddered. "It gave me the creeps; now I know why. I wish Werrien would have felt the same about it." Her eyes trailed from the shard to the necklace. It was transparent as well. "Did you know that I also brought about a curse. When Hester ripped the necklace from my neck, I—as well as the people of this land— developed sores, the same sores that you still have."

  "It was definitely an unfortunate mishap, especially when it was Hester, or I should say Strolin, who tore the necklace from you. Though it really doesn't matter anymore; Yolen heard you cry out to him, and he lifted the curse."

  Once again, Kristina stared at the crystal necklace and the shard. "What should I do with them?" she asked softly.

  "They have no power anymore, so I suppose you can do anything you like with them."

  "Since the necklace's power is gone, does this mean I'm not going home?"

  "As far as I know, no, you aren't—at least not in the near future."

  Kristina knelt down and picked up the necklace and the shard. Then she turned to look up at Hector. "Why hasn't Yolen healed you?"

  "I asked Reuel the same question. He said that even though the curse has been lifted, it may take longer for me and the inhabitants of the land to heal."

  "But why, then, are my sores gone?"

  "Apparently, Yolen was especially pleased with you."

  Kristina sighed. "I really have no idea why he would be. The whole time that I've been in your world, I've been so insecure and sickly."

  Staring out at the Sicapif Sea, Hector smiled and shook his head. "What you have just said proves to me that you do not yet know the ways of Yolen."

  Gazing at the dormant stones, Kristina said, "You're right, I don't think that I do know the ways of Yolen."

  "Let me ask you a question," Hector said.

  "Sure," Kristina said.

  "What do you see in a mirror?"

  "That's quite obvious. I see myself." She suddenly thought of the old hag she had seen in the vanity mirror. "Well...usually I would see myself, unless I was looking into a possessed mirror," she corrected herself.

  "But you do agree that in a normal mirror, you see yourself?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "As you can tell, my hair is quite long." Hector held his braid in his hand for Kristina to see. "Possibly even longer than your hair."

  "I think that may be true," Kristina agreed.

  "Have you ever tried to braid your hair while looking in a mirror?"

  "Yes, I remember the very first time I tried. I thought that it would be obviously easy, but it was very difficult, because the reflection of my hands moved in an opposite direction from what my hands actually were doing."

  "Exactly my point!"

  "What do you mean? I don't get it."

  "What may look so obvious to you, like the way you see yourself as weak, is actually the opposite of how Yolen sees you. He sees, what you perceive as your weakness, combined with your humility, as your strength." Hector again loo
ked very seriously at her. "When you were at your life's lowest moment and you faced total depravity, you did not become bitter or try to reason away the things that were happening to you. Instead, you faced your dismal situation and then, best of all, you cried out to Yolen. For this reason, he was pleased with you."

  "Is that the reason Yolen saved me?"

  "Partially. It's complicated to understand, but let me try to explain it as simply as I can. Yolen knew you even before the world of Bernovem and your world, Earth were created. It was Yolen that placed the seed of faith inside of you when you were born. Your crying out to him to save you was the germination of that seed."

  Mixed feelings flooded Kristina's mind. She was so very grateful to Yolen for saving her and healing her, but at the same time, her heart was burdened with sorrow for Werrien. "If Werrien is still alive, I wonder what is to happen to him, now that Sentiz and her followers have him," she said.

  Hector sighed heavily. "Werrien was tempted by the Black Shard, and he gave into his temptation by taking it and coveting it. Reuel said that this saddened Yolen as well as angered him. Reuel has not told me anything about what has, or what will happen to Werrien, but what Reuel has told me is that right now, as I speak, Resucca is making final preparations to take over our lands—for good, this time. There are already great changes in the city."

  "How can Resucca be stopped?"

  "The only way to stop him now, is to find Azaril. He has the front section of Bernovem's Book of Prophecy, and it contains the instructions on how to destroy Resucca and his followers once and for all."

  "Where is Azaril?"

  "Reuel thinks he is in the forsaken land of Jalmara." Hector's eyes narrowed. "Would you be willing to journey to Jalmara and search for Azaril with me?"