The Nightstone

by Wil Ogden

  People began leaving the Audience Hall. Not one had dry eyes.

  Kehet shifted back, catching the pendant as it fell from where his horn had been. It looked like a flat diamond with an eight pointed starburst of gold inside. The star glowed, giving off a bright light. He placed the pendant in his pouch.

  Kehet noticed pages handing folded parchment to several people, including Sheillene and Pantros. He walked over to them and they were joined by Marc, the bard Thomas and his wife, the sorceress who had flown them all earlier that day, and a young Abvi girl Kehet hadn’t met.

  “Writs of knighthood,” Sheillene said, holding up her paper. “We’re to be given smaller ceremonies in the coming weeks if we want them, but it seems Pantros and I are now Knights of the Order of Truth, and David is an honorary knight of that order. Since he’s a Knight of Relarch, he can’t really accept a true Melnithian knighthood.

  “Me too,” Mirica said. “And that Wizard Heather’s name is listed as well. I’m a little surprised. Just a few days ago, all Wizards were living under threat of execution and today one is a hero of the kingdom.”

  “She’s worthy,” Kehet said. “If nothing else, a person of that power is someone you’d want to have obligated to be on your side.”

  “True, there are not many people of any school of magic, with that much power.”

  The words came from Prince Aven, who stepped up to the conversation. “For each school of magic, Earth, Air, Fire and Water, there are ten circles of power. Magic is rare in humans and uncommon in Abvi. At any given time, for each school there is, at most, only one person alive with the potential of the tenth circle, and no more than three of the ninth. Though with that much power, the bearers of often destroy themselves before they find training.”

  “So it’s not just fire that’s dangerous?” Kehet asked.

  “No,” Aven said. “Any magic, if untamed, can be dangerous. But to have so many potent people in one city at a time has not happened in the history I know. Though, we were never in the same room, at one point we had the world’s most potent people of each of the four schools in the city. I am ninth in Earth Magic. The Archmage was ninth in Water. Heather is Ninth in Fire and Mirica is Tenth in Air. The way magic is measured, that makes Mirica as powerful as Heather and I combined. I have never seen so many powerful people in one place.” Aven then turned to Sheillene’s sister, who’d been with her since the huntress returned from battle. “You’re Aemelia, aren’t you?”

  The girl, who, with dark brown hair and brown eyes, didn’t look at all like Sheillene, answered, “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “You are also a Tempest, but still a Keeper,” Aven asked.

  “I only tend my garden,” Aemelia said.

  Aven leaned close to Kehet and said, “Her garden is the northern third of the kingdom.” He then stood straight and said, “I have to wonder if such a convergence of potent people is a sign of something.”

  “Or maybe it’s just that most of the people in the kingdom are currently seeking refuge in the city,” Sheillene said. “But I had the same speculation earlier when I noticed I was sitting at a table with Thomas, Pantros and Marc.”

  Kehet nudged Aven’s shoulder, “Worried that the world is going to tip off balance?”

  “I actually am,” Aven said. “But, of all of us here, that’s something more of your concern than mine.”

  Beldithe stepped into the room, “Kehet, I’ve been looking for you.”

  Kehet was surprised to see the goddess actually wearing clothing. Though she wasn’t wearing much. Her robe didn’t have sides and the turquoise fabric did little to contain her body. “What do you need?” Kehet asked.

  “I need for little,” Beldithe said. “There are, however, things I want. What I want right now is to speak with you.” She then looked around the room and her eyes fell on Marc. “But, I am suddenly overcome with a desire to postpone our discussion. The city is in celebration, we should join in the festivities.”

  “We?” Kehet asked.

  “You and I,” Beldithe said. “And these fine heroes should join us. I would like to sit at a table in a little tavern in the Foreign Quarter and chat with Thomas, Tara, Sheillene, Marc, Pantros, Aemelia, Aven and you. Drinks are on the prince.”

  “Of course they are,” Aven said. “I can plainly see that a goddess carries no purse.”

  “Follow me,” Beldithe said. She turned and walked, swaying as only she could.

  §

  It was a long walk to the foreign quarter but the densest parts of the crowded streets were near the palace. As they walked Aemelia stepped up next to Kehet. “Would you change to a Unicorn for me?” she asked.

  “You saw me as a Unicorn in court,” Kehet said.

  “You were pretty and I’ve never seen a Unicorn before. I’m sure there are thousands in the city right now, but they all look like people,” Aemelia said. “I was hoping to see one up close. I wasn’t standing that close to the throne and if you hadn’t noticed, I’m short.” The top of her head was around Kehet’s shoulder, for an Abvi, she was short.

  Kehet looked around and, noticing they were on a relatively empty street, took a step back and changed.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Aemelia said. “Can I ride you?”

  Kehet thought about it, but hadn’t had a rider yet and wasn’t sure how to carry anyone. He changed back and said, “No, I don’t carry passengers.”

  “I’m a virgin,” Aemelia said. Kehet already knew that to be true. It was a sense common to all Unicorns.

  “It’s not about that,” Kehet said. “I’ve never carried anyone and am a bit afraid I’d drop you.”

  “I could hold on tight to your mane,” Aemelia said. “Or would that hurt?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” Kehet said. “Perhaps another time.” He pointed down the street, “We should catch up.”

  CHAPTER 32: PANTROS

  The group reached their destination and Beldithe literally pulled Marc in by the hand. Thomas and Tara were close behind. Pantros lingered by the doorway, trying to get a feel for the place by what he could see before stepping through the door. That’s when he noticed Sheillene was not among them. He caught a glimpse of her ducking into the alley beside the tavern and his curiosity got the best of him. He stepped over towards the alley, but could hear Sheillene’s voice before turning the corner so he stopped and listened.

  “I don’t care what you’re reason is,” Sheillene said. “What you did was abandon my friend.”

  “I didn’t abandon anyone,” The other voice, which Pantros recognized as Thomas’, said. “I did what I did when I did because that’s when I did it.”

  “You’re going to have to repeat that again,” Sheillene said. “Slowly and in a language I would understand. First, let’s get to the part where you explain why you are inside and out here at the same time.”

  “I’m a lot older than the me that is inside,” Thomas said. “I am far older than anyone thinks.”

  “So the oldest Abvi is around ten thousand years old,” Sheillene said. “Are you close to that?”

  “Not remotely. More than a hundred times that,” Thomas said. “I’ve lived to the end of time and back to the beginning and now I’m here again. And when I say here I’m referencing a point in time.”

  “You travel through time?” Sheillene asked.

  “No,” Thomas said. “I live through time. The guy in the Inn is me in the decades after I was born. I was him a long time ago in my past. I am currently in my third, and I believe final, trip through the timeline. Just be glad you haven’t met me while I was living through time backwards. Even for me, it was confusing to wake up each day a day earlier than the one I went to sleep. The worst part about those million years was that I could never travel more than a day from my home.”

  “You’re over two million years old?” Sheillene asked.

  “Just barely,” Thomas said.

  “How can that be?” Sheillene said. “Are you a god?”

&nb
sp; “Not for lack of trying,” Thomas said. “The gods have issues with me; they say I know too much. I tell the truth when it is inconvenient.”

  “But that’s a curse,” Sheillene said.

  “Not really,” Thomas said. “I just adopted the story of another Thomas, one who lived a much shorter life. I’ve just been around a while, so I get the chance to know an awful lot of things. And I share a bit of consciousness with my other selves. I remember being the young Thomas and how insane I thought I was. It’s odd knowing things that I don’t remember learning, but then later in my life I learned them and the young me has some access to that knowledge.”

  “Why are you here?” Sheillene said.”Why drag me into this alley?”

  “You’re going to tell the story,” Thomas said. “The story of Pantros and Kehet and the battle of Melnith?”

  “I’m working on something,” Sheillene said.

  “Then you need to be able to explain why the Thomas in that tavern is married to Tara and can’t say why,” Thomas said. “I’m explaining why, for your story.”

  “But ten years ago, in Ignea, that was you, this version of you?” Sheillene said.

  “There’s only one version of me,” Thomas said. “It’s not like I died and was remade. But yes, that was me during this trip through the timeline.”

  “So when you left and left me to explain to Tara, it wasn’t because you discovered the death of Tara’s parents, you clearly already knew that from the memories of the Thomas inside.”

  “My memories get a little fuzzy after so long,” Thomas said. “But I knew the truth all along. I know lots of truths that I won’t share. I just knew I had to get out of the picture before the younger me came into the picture. Sometimes I just do things because I know that’s how I did or was going to do them. I’ve yet to find a way to change anything I know to be true about history, even the history that hasn’t yet been written for you, because it’s all been written for me. Luckily, I never told my younger selves the day to day details of every day from this trip through time. Most days are still full of surprises.”

  “I guess you are not coming inside,” Sheillene asked.

  “Me and my younger selves bump into each other now and then, but not tonight,” Thomas said. “Go inside; don’t let your husband have all the fun.”

  “I’m not married,” Sheillene said. “I’m not even engaged or for that matter romantically involved with anyone.”

  “Oops,” Thomas said. Pantros could hear the mirth in the man’s voice. Then there were footsteps walking deeper into the alley.

  “Who?” Sheillene shouted. She repeated it again louder.

  Jovial laughter came from the far end of the alley.

  “Did you hear?” Sheillene asked. Pantros hadn’t heard her step out of the alley but she stood an arm’s length away looking at him with suspicion.

  “I did,” Pantros said. “Just to clear, it’s not me.”

  “Not you?” Sheillene asked.

  “I’m not interested in being your or anyone else’s husband,” Pantros said. “But I can guess who.”

  “Really?” Sheillene asked, her voice low with disbelief.

  “Don’t get too jealous of Beldithe,” Pantros said. “He’s not yours, yet.”

  “The half-ogre?” Sheillene asked. The term had changed from a jibe when they’d first met Marc. It now sounded more like a pet name or an endearment.

  Pantros just smiled then turned and walked into the Tavern. Sheillene followed several minutes later.

  §

  The sun was low in the sky when Pantros finally left the tavern. Thomas and Sheillene were still taking turns on stage telling stories or playing their instruments. Aemelia had left the party early with Kehet, though the Unicorn prince had returned moments later. It seems she’d managed to convince him to give her a ride back to the inn where her mother was staying. She’d only asked him a dozen times through the night.

  Marc and Beldithe disappeared somewhere around midnight. Tara slept at a table by the stage.

  Kehet caught up to Pantros as he walked back towards the palace.

  “Steal any good purses lately?” Kehet asked.

  “What?” Pantros asked. He hadn’t been practicing his trade during the celebration.

  “How does one start a conversation with a thief?” Kehet asked.

  Pantros shrugged. “‘Good Morning’ would probably work just fine,” he said.

  “Well good morning, then,” Kehet said.

  “You’re remarkably sober,” Pantros said, his mind still blurred, though he’d stopped drinking shortly after midnight. At least he didn’t remember drinking after Thomas’s ‘Midnight Merriment’ song.

  “It’s a Unicorn curse,” Kehet said. “No poison works on my kind, not even alcohol. I could cure your minor case of being hung over.”

  “Can I call it hung over if I haven’t been to sleep yet?” Pantros asked.

  “So you and Mirica weren’t sleeping for the two hours you disappeared into the back room?” Kehet asked.

  “I what?” Pantros asked. It seemed there was more than drinking that he’d forgotten. But thinking back, he could remember most of getting very friendly with Thomas’ sister.

  “Stand still,” Kehet said. The man then changed to a large Unicorn and without warning, stuck Pantros in the arm with his horn. Before Pantros could complain, Kehet had changed back.

  “What was that for?” Pantros asked.

  “Feeling better?” Kehet asked.

  It took only a breath to realize that not only was he no longer hung over, he was no longer tired. Aside from a small, bleeding prick in his arm, he felt fine. “Mostly,” Pantros said. “I now not only have a hole in my shirt, but it’s getting bloodstained.”

  “But you’re sober?” Kehet asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Pantros confirmed.

  “Good,” Kehet said. “Because I’ve been thinking about the demons and your gem and I don’t think it’s over.”

  “Oh?” Pantros asked. “You think there’s someone else who wants to summon all the demons in hell to Mealth?”

  “I think the same someone is going to try again,” Kehet said. “None of the demons we killed stood out as a leader among their kind. Somewhere, they have a general or a king directing them.”

  Pantros hadn’t been looking at the battle from beyond the parts he’d been directly involved with. “They didn’t get that Vulak in the fancy armor?”

  “They got the armor,” Kehet said. “One of my Unicorns caught up to the creature wearing it, but when the creature saw my Unicorn, it disappeared in a swirling cloud of black smoke. Prince Aven says that’s a way for demons to return to their hell. But he also says such a small demon would not have been in charge. He was probably selected because he was the same size as a Vulak. Demons get bigger with power or maybe it’s easier to get power for demons of immense size, but small demons are not leaders.”

  “Are you saying we have to coax the demon king out of hell?” Pantros asked.

  “I’m saying we have to go to hell and kill the demon in charge of this whole mess,” Kehet said. “And when I say ‘we’, I’m not sure I can include myself. There are some limits as to what I am allowed to do and going to hell may not be one of them.”

  Gods were not something people of Ignea dealt with on a regular basis. Ships’ crews would offer sacrifice to Avengale before long voyages, but once on land, the gods were forgotten. Ignea had no temples. Pantros shrugged. He’d never really expected to be able to rely on a god. He saw them as being who helped on their whims. “I am glad you helped where you could, then,” he said.

  “You’ll need weapons of power,” Kehet said. “Your own sword may not be strong enough to penetrate the hide of a demonic lord.”

  “What of your sword?” Pantros asked. “What of the sword of a god?”

  “There’s nothing special about this,” Kehet pulled his sword from over his shoulder. “I made it from a block of steel I’d smelted
that came out to be not hard enough for mining tools. The crossguard and hilt were in an old box that my master kept under the workbench. Poor Segric died before approving my using them on this blade.”

  “I’ve seen that hilt before,” Pantros said. “I know where the blade is that originally sat in it.” The blade he spoke of had been Bryan’s. He pulled the page he’d torn from the book out of his pouch. The drawing clearly showed the same wolf and bear moldings as the crossguard, though the actual piece was far more detailed than the drawing. “Sheillene told me the blade was disassembled to prevent humans from using it against the Abvi. We have most of the pieces of one of the most powerful swords in the world.” Pantros looked more closely at the drawing, focusing on the part they didn’t have. The pommel also looked familiar. “I think we need to talk to Estephan,” Pantros said.

  §

  They found the prince with King Allaind eating a quiet breakfast. The king was clearly disturbed by their intrusion but did offer them seats at the table and had settings placed on the table for them. Pantros suspected the courtesy had more to do with who he walked in with than politeness towards him.

  “Kehet has convinced me that someone needs to go to hell and kill the demon behind this,” Pantros said.

  “If you’re looking for a champion,” the king said, “then your coming here surprises me. Surely the man you are looking for is your friend Marc.”

  “I’d already reached that conclusion,” Pantros said. “Though others coming along would be welcome. I came for two reasons. First, to get to hell, we’d have to open the portal. That’s not something I would want to do without your support or at least your permission. Second, I was wondering if maybe Prince Estephan had, among his possessions, his father’s crown.”

  “I do,” Estephan said. “I had hoped to present it to my brother.”

  “Could you have it brought here,” Pantros said. He pulled the picture out and set it on the table. “If I’m not mistaken, the setting on the top gem is actually the pommel for the Blade of the Baron, and we’re going to need such a weapon intact to assault hell. We have all the rest of the pieces.”