The Enchanted Emerald (The Enchanted Stones Book 1)

by Donald Craghead

  A vicious smile split Red’s face as he began to lunge at Thomas. Before he could complete his charge a full, corked beer bottle whistled through the air, catching Red just above the temple. He crashed to the floor, unconscious even before he fell.

  Next to the bar, where the bottle began its flight, stood Charlie. “Well, he said he wanted a beer. So...I gave him one!”

  The bar erupted in laughter and cheering as the local fishermen surrounded Thomas and Charlie, patting backs and giving congratulations. Some of the men carried the unconscious seaman back to his ship. They stayed to speak to the captain, to insure that Red would not return to shore as long as the ship was in port. The rest of the men stayed to help Thomas and Charlie clean up the mess from the fight.

  It was well past midnight when Thomas finally left Sarah’s tavern. He was greatly pleased with the day. He had secured all the supplies they would need for the journey south, made some new friends, and even had a chance to crack a couple of heads.

  With his backpack fully loaded, and both hands occupied with two more full packs, Thomas left Monterey humming to himself. There was a swagger to his step.

  CHAPTER 12

  Michael’s group followed the trail up the hill from Monterey. This was one of the old concrete ways, from the days before the Magicians’ War. Most of the concrete was gone now, but they had no trouble following the cleared area where it had once been.

  The wonderful weather they had been having finally deserted them. The ever-present fog, that clung to the peninsula during the very early and very late hours, would normally burn off when the sun gained strength in the late morning. Today, however, even though it was past noon, the fog was so thick they could not see more than fifty yards ahead of them. With the fog came a slow but steady rain.

  “Good heavens,” complained Everett. “How do you people ever get use to this fog? The dampness goes right through to the bone.”

  “I can’t say I like the rain, Everett,” replied Sarah, “but I love the fog. Don’t you find it beautiful, the way it rolls through the tree tops?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it could roll right on out of here.” Everett looked over at Michael. “So, how do you feel, Michael?” “What? I feel fine, why?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about what will happen when we

  reach Acantha’s keep. Your magic is going to have to be much stronger than it is now, if we are to succeed. And if you are up to it, I think now is a good time to begin to strengthen your powers.”

  Michael was quiet for a minute while they walked. He was drenched from the steady fall of the light rain. Water was dripping from the hair that was plastered to his forehead. His clothes were drenched and clinging to his body.

  “I guess I’m up to it, Everett. I just don’t know what I should do to make my powers stronger. I’ve had years of schooling, with you as instructor, I don’t see how I’m going to advance so much further in such a short time.”

  “You have the emerald now,” replied Everett. “You must learn how to tap the well of power it represents.

  “I was just thinking, here we are slopping through soaking wet grass and weeds, rain drenching our clothes, making them stick to us

  -- and you could do something about it!”

  “Me?” Michael stopped walking and looked over to Everett.

  Thomas and Oliver, having taken the lead, also stopped and turned back to watch the two magicians.

  “How in the world am I supposed to make it stop raining? I don’t have that kind of power, even with the emerald.”

  “You don’t know yet what kind of power you have,” responded Everett. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about stopping the rain. I was just talking about us getting wet.”

  Michael paused to look up at the falling rain. “I don’t know, Everett. I don’t even know how I was able to call on the emerald the last time. But here goes nothing.”

  Michael closed his eyes to concentrate and went into a light trance. He slowly raised one hand over his head, passing it from front to back in a sweeping motion.

  The rain falling on them began to slow, finally coming to a stop. Oliver looked around in a circle. It was clear that it was still raining, it was falling on all sides of them; but not where they stood.

  “Damn! I think I’m beginning to like this magic stuff,” said Oliver. “How the hell did you do that?”

  Michael opened his eyes, and grinned at the old fisherman. “I couldn’t stop the rain, so I moved it. It’s just flowing around us, that’s all.”

  “Yes sir, real convenient,” said Thomas.

  They walked for nearly an hour before they noticed that it had stopped raining altogether. They were on the far side of the hill from Monterey. To their right the shoreline was nearly a mile distant, having reached the distant point of the peninsula. It would once again curve toward them until they were walking near the beaches. This would happen in about two more hours. Shortly before they reached the end of their day’s journey, they spotted a solitary man walking the path toward them.

  As he neared them, they could see he was a tall, slender man with stooped posture. He was swathed in a heavy coarse brown robe. Although his robe was the same color as Everett’s, this man wore his as though he was imprisoned by it. His hands were clasped in front of him, but lost in the voluminous folds of the sleeves. His head, and most of his face, was hidden by the hood that draped across the front.

  Michael’s group stopped as the man approached them. He seemed to have just now noticed them. He peered at them from the shadows of his hood with jaundiced eyes.

  “I am Ezekiel,” he stated. He stared at Everett, being the elder of the group, waiting for response.

  “Well met, Ezekiel,” said Everett. He continued by introducing his traveling companions, avoiding mention of where they were heading, or for what purpose.

  “You have the look about you of weary travelers. May my brothers and I offer you sanctuary?”

  “You speak as a holy man,” replied Everett, without offering an answer to the question.

  “Indeed, this is true,” replied Ezekiel, as he bowed his head. “I am a brother of The Church of the Second Millennium.”

  Michael and Everett shared a wordless glance at each other.

  “I trust this does not cause you consternation,” Ezekiel added, as he watched the two men.

  “Of course not, brother. It’s just that it has been long since we have met one with your convictions.”

  The shrouded figure sighed as though with great burden. “No doubt. Our numbers have diminished over the years. There are not many that can uphold the strict tenets of our faith. But, regarding my offer of sanctuary from the night,” Ezekiel’s eyes pierced them with suspicion. “Would it not be preferable to spending the night blanketed by the cold, damp fog?”

  As Michael moved to decline the offer, Everett reached out to take his arm. Michael held his peace.

  “It would be quite preferable, and we thank you,” the old man said for the group.

  As Ezekiel turned to lead them along the path south, Michael asked Everett what had possessed him to accept the offer. Everett explained to Michael that it was better to have danger in view, rather than waiting around the corner to surprise you.

  Sarah moved closer to them. “I’m missing something here, aren’t I? Who is this man, and what is this church he is from?”

  “The Church of the Second Millennium, and keep your voice down,” responded Everett. “They are a very rigid cult. They believe that magicians are demons of the devil.”

  “What?” exclaimed Sarah.

  “Shhhh. Please, keep your voice down.”

  “Why are we going with him if his church hates magicians?”

  “Because if we didn’t, they would rightly suspect that we had something to hide. Pass the word to Oliver and Thomas, say nothing about who we are or why we are heading south.”

  As they continued along the route south, a large building became visible ahead and to
the left. It looked to be twice as old as any of the ramshackled buildings Sarah was familiar with from the village. It also seemed to have withstood the test of time much better.

  The building was set back quite a way from the roadway the group was upon, however the details of the building were easily seen. It was a heavy, oppressive building, constructed of brick and mortar, and ancient dark wood.

  As they turned from the path and began to make their way up to the church, Ezekiel spoke for the first time since their meeting.

  “You will have noticed, I surmise, that our church is in remarkably good repair. Since its construction this building has been tended to. Never has it been empty, and never has it housed other than the children of God.”

  As they approached the building, they first came upon a wall surrounding it. The wall was made of the same stone and mortar. The massive front gate was closed.

  Ezekiel reached for a cord that was suspended from the wall. Inside, the muffled peal of a bell could be heard. They stood in silence waiting for the summons to be answered.

  From behind the gate, the travelers could hear the sliding of the bolt, releasing the lock from the gate.

  When the door opened, they could see two brothers of the church waiting to greet their visitors. Neither of the two looked as ominous as Ezekiel.

  “Please, come in,” said one of the brothers. His face was fixed with an easy smile. “Do you seek refuge from the night?”

  “If it would not be too inconvenient,” replied Everett. “We will be resuming our journey at first light.”

  “No inconvenience at all,” replied the brother who had just spoken. “We welcome travelers.”

  Once inside the gate introductions were made. The church brother they had spoken with was named Jerimias. Wrapped in the same coarse, burdensome robe, he was nevertheless much more congenial than the morose Ezekiel.

  Jerimias led them to the rooms they would be using for the night. The large main hallway of the church was bare of amenities, and the ceiling was fully thirty feet over their heads. Their footsteps sounded sharply on the wooden floor and echoed through the hall.

  Once across the hall, Ezekiel disappeared through a heavy wooden door. Michael and his friends followed Jerimias, and found a stairwell of stone steps leading down to the lower parts of the church. The walls were close, and gave the feeling that they were slowly moving inward, to trap the unholy. Escape from the stairwell came in the form of another hallway, this one being dark and moist. It was lit with large candles. The light, however, was dim as the candles were spaced more than thirty feet apart.

  Jerimias turned to address his followers. “You may take the first five cells along the left side of the wall. They have been empty for many years and may smell musty, but they will provide you with safe and protected sleep.

  “When you have unloaded your supplies, come back upstairs. Our evening meal and worship will commence within the hour.”

  When Jerimias left, everyone began to speak at once.

  “What in the world are we doing here, Everett?” asked Michael.

  “I don’t think I like this place,” declared Oliver.

  “Gotta admit, I’d rather be under the open sky,” said Thomas.

  Sarah said, “Michael, these men are dangerous. I can feel it. Why are we here?”

  “Everett, why in God’s name did you agree to come here? You know what The Church of the Second Millennium believes,” said Michael.

  “Enough,” snapped Everett. “We are here for good reasons. If we had declined the offer we would have been under suspicion. Further, we are not in danger as long as these men do not know we are magicians”.

  After speaking, Everett softened his tone. “The main reason that I accepted, however, is much more important. I want you all to understand the nature of the quest we have undertaken. We are going into the very lair of Acantha. Once there we are going to make an attempt to steal her mode of power right off her finger.

  “This will take great courage on everyone’s part. You are right, we are in danger as long as we are under this roof. If that prospect frightens you too much to function properly, if you cannot control your fears, then you do not belong on this venture. Call it a test if you will, but you must learn to handle your fears. You must be able to look into the face of fear, and still perform.”

  He paused here to smile at his friends. “Trust in Michael, trust in me. We will let no harm come to you here. Now, go to your rooms and unload your burdens. We will go upstairs shortly to join our hosts.”

  Michael was unloading his pack when Sarah entered his room. “Michael, just what is The Church of the Second Millennium, and what do they believe in? You seemed just as upset about being here as I am.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause you concern,” said Michael as he turned to her. “I was just surprised Everett would allow us to come here.”

  “But, why, Michael? What does this church represent that worries you?”

  “Here, sit down, I’ll try to explain the church to you.”

  With Sarah sitting next to him on the thin cot, Michael told her what he knew about the church.

  “After the Magicians’ War, a particularly zealous religious cult explained the war and resultant disappearance of so many people, as the War of Armageddon, and consequently the rapture....the rapture being when all true believers are taken to heaven.

  “After the rapture, Satan is to be the lord of the earth for a millennium. The Church of the Second Millennium believes they are now living during the time of Satan’s rule. The proof to that assertion is evidenced in the presence of magic in the world. Magicians are therefore tools of the devil. The brothers of the church feel it is their duty to find and dispose of the magicians of the world. To their way of thinking, they must eradicate all magic from the face of the earth,” said Michael, completing his story.

  “So, if they find out you and Everett are magicians, they will try to kill you.” She looked into Michael’s eyes. “I see what Everett meant when he says we must conquer our fear during this trip. I have not thought of losing you, until now.”

  She opened her arms, moving into Michael’s embrace.

  “Don’t worry,” whispered Michael. “We’ll be careful.”

  Returning upstairs, they found Ezekiel waiting for them at the head of the stairs.

  “Are you ready for our evening devotionals and then dinner?” he asked.

  “Thank you. It would be an honor, Ezekiel,” responded Michael.

  Without a further word, Ezekiel turned and led them through the halls of the church. Upon reaching a large darkened room to the side of the main building, they found the entire membership of the church, nearly fifty men, gathered in silence. They were led to a bench near the end of the room. Ezekiel passed them five large squares of cloth, dark brown and coarse, like the robes. These they were directed to drape over their heads.

  “You must be covered when communing with God,” he explained.

  The five visitors did as instructed, then turned their gaze to the front of the room. In the very front, there was a podium where six men were gathered. Two were to the left of center, and two were to the right. They were on their knees, heads bowed, and hands clasped in front.

  In the center of the podium, a fifth man stood next to an ornate chair on a pedestal. The sixth man was sitting in the chair. The man had surpassed what would be considered old age many years ago; he was, in fact, ancient.

  Even though covered by the heavy brown robe, the travelers could see he was frail beyond description. His robe hung about him like a funeral shroud. The hands that extended beyond the folds of the sleeves were skeletal. The face protruding from the hood was very nearly a skull.

  The figure raised his arm from his lap, the hand hanging from the wrist, seemingly too heavy to be held straight. At the gesture, the church body dropped to their knees, almost in a single movement. After a brief hesitation, and a wordless glance at Everett for direction, the travelers did the same. Th
e hooded brother standing next to the chair leaned down to put his ear next to the old man’s mouth. When the brother stood again to speak, Michael and his friends recognized the voice belonging to Jeremias.

  “Brothers. We, of the 144,000. We have been entrusted by God to spread his word among his people of the earth. Our duty has never been more difficult, our challenge has never been greater.”

  Once again Jeremias leaned down to the old man in the chair. “Our numbers have dwindled,” he continued after he rose from hearing the old man’s instructions. “To continue our service, our ranks must once again swell. We must spread our word and our purpose to all men.”

  He raised his hands over his head as he gave final instructions. “We must seek out the demons that are aligned with the Devil! They must perish before any more souls are lost!”

  “They must perish!” chorused the church body. “They must perish!”

  “Pray brothers! Pray that they may perish!”

  The next fifteen minutes were spent in silent prayer. Michael, Sarah, Thomas, and Oliver exchanged concerned looks during this time. Everett was as still as a statue. Head bowed, appearing to be in prayer.

  Once back in the cellars, safe among their rooms, Sarah met with Michael. “They give me the shivers, Michael,” she said as she held her arms crossed close to her chest. “You could have heard a mouse scamper across the floor during the prayers. It was such an ominous silence.”

  “Well, I tried to impress on you that they are fanatics.”

  “The 144,000 that Jeremias mentioned, what did that mean?” she asked.

  “I do know a bit about that. We studied them as our main danger. There is a holy book from the time before the Magicians’ War. That is where this cult originated. They perverted the teachings of that great book to meet their own purposes. The 144,000 refers to a special group of people that are supposed to be sent by God to teach his word. They feel that the members of their church are that group. I don’t know where they got the idea that they are supposed to go out and murder all the magicians they can find. But, that seems to be their goal in life.”