“Me? Oh, nobody special. Just like I am sure you are nobody special.”
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t mean to degrade, it’s just how slave traders pick their stock.”
“What?”
“You know, you repeat yourself often. Don’t let them hear that. It could be a character flaw. Who wants a slave with a flaw?” The words were nonchalant and had no feeling. As he heard them, Fret felt sadness seeping in deeper. How long had this captive been here?
While Fret’s mind tried to come up with a response, a new light appeared, coming from straight ahead. Someone was carrying a torch. The passageway lit up as they came forward. Once it arrived in the chamber, more was revealed—more cages, more prisoners, and more…skeletons?
“Ah, the human is awake. It has been some time since we have had a human.”
It wasn’t the gnome. It was a woman, or what looked to be a woman. Fret looked up as much as he could at the figure, green like the leaves on the apple tree back home. Her gossamer dress appeared to have a bark-like texture or design that rippled when she moved. It was the best description Fret could come up with.
A cane rapped the cage, catching Fret’s fingers. Ouch! The gnome was right in front of him. Van had a sinister grin on his face.
“Do not ogle Melina like that, human.” Van’s words were curt and not fun-loving like when they had first met.
“Temper, temper, Van. The poor human probably has never seen a dryad before. Let him look, just a little,” the tree lady said. Her green hand patted Van on the head.
As Fret looked up at her again, the cane came against the bars. This time it caught his nose.
“And I see our little brownie is awake. You filling in our newcomer about us, are you, Warren?” Melina stepped to the left of Fret’s cell and bent down to look into another cage. In a cell half the size of his, Fret saw a tiny creature sitting on the floor. He couldn’t make out much detail, but Warren couldn’t have been bigger than Fret’s foot.
Warren mainly looked up at the dryad but didn’t speak. Fret took the time to “ogle,” as Van put it, Melina. Her skin was a light spring green. The odd thing Fret noticed was her long hair blended with her clothes, to the point where he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Wapp!
The cane came again and only nipped Fret’s fingers. Van squinted at him with one eye as his face worked into a sneer. Melina stood up, her hand coming down upon Van again.
“Come, gnome. Let the new friends talk. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” And she turned and swished back up the passage she’d used to enter the chamber. Van held his stare a moment longer and then followed the dryad. The torch and two kidnappers disappeared into the darkness.
Fret stared into the void, his mind blank.
“Van will be happy to sell you. He’s very protective of her.” It was the same somber tone.
“We have to escape! Get out of here!” His voice held hints of panic but was hushed. He did his best to direct it to the brownie.
“What’s the point? I’ve seen creatures escape, and Melina brings them right back. Sometimes armless, legless, or headless, but in the end they do come back.” Fret was really starting to get annoyed with this new friend of his.
No! Something inside him just would not let that happen. A fire, maybe fueled by fear, raged up suddenly within him. He shook the bars of the cage, none of them feeling any looser. The berserker in him quickly snuffed itself out and left Fret panting.
“Did that do anything for you?”
He so wanted to slap the brownie and make Warren see some sense.
“Well?”
“So you are waiting for an answer from me?” Fret panted, still exhausted from his tantrum.
“Yes.”
And before Fret said anything, he thought about it. The answer went from yes to a sad no, but then a little spark that originally ignited his rage chimed in. And the answer changed.
“Yes, it did.”
The brownie did not reply, as if he expected a different answer. Fret stared into the darkness waiting. But, nothing.
An inaudible sigh escaped him, and Fret slumped, as much as he could, in his cage.
Chapter Nineteen
It took the wizard a good fifteen minutes to come back from his secret hiding place. After hearing the prophecy, Ynob simply stood and disappeared into the recesses of his hidden chamber. No one spoke, for they were all still a bit rattled from his proclamation of doom. When he did return, he carried a heavy tome, dusty and ancient. Returning to his chair, Gantha caught a simple nod and spoken word from the wizard. A podium soared through the air and came to rest before the magic man. With another word, he made it shrink to the height he needed.
“This”—dust clouds billowed from the book as Ynob placed it upon the stand—“is the diary, journal of Guilaud of Deharem.” Ynob looked about as if expecting a reaction from his audience, but no one even blinked. Snow was the only one to give a puzzled glance, but that did not look like it suited the wizard’s expectation.
“Do you not know anything of history or magic?” He threw his head back, ran a hand through his hair. “Really, a council member doesn’t know of Guilaud?” He directed this at Gantha.
“Um…no?” A meek answer, but truthful.
Ynob threw his hands up. “No wonder the prophecy said to come find me. You all are a bunch of idiots!”
Lourak grunted—almost leapt forward to attack. Ra’na held the small man back. “Yar no sweet peach neither!” was all the dwarf could get out. Ynob looked shocked, alarmed at the insult.
“Please, go on about Guilaud,” Ra’na urged as she pushed the dwarf back into his seat. The wizard stared at Lourak a moment more before he returned to the tome. It creaked as Ynob opened it to near the halfway mark.
“Guilaud was a powerful wizard, probably the greatest that ever ruled.” Ynob’s eyes sparkled.
“Ya mean he was just a bloody human?” Lourak snidely remarked.
The wizard reacted with some sort of supersonic speed. Gantha didn’t even see his arm swing and point. One moment it was at his side, and the next it pointed at the dwarf. And whatever Ynob cried out was lost to interpretation.
But the effects were quite visible. Lourak’s beard suddenly knitted together over his mouth. It looked as if the hair patch appeared in the blink of an eye. The dwarf tried to scream, but nothing came out but a tiny, muffled cry. Ra’na looked at Lourak and then back at Ynob.
“He’ll be fine, just quieter. Make sure he stays seated. I don’t want to have to turn his ankles.” He lowered his arm. “Dwarves…dreadfully rude things….”
Ra’na had to hold Lourak back as he tried to strangle the wizard. It took a few minutes to calm the little man, who eventually sulked in his chair. Ynob offered a small smile toward the dwarf.
Gantha wanted the ball rolling. He wasn’t sure how long they had been there, but he knew it was late. “So are the prophecies about this guy, Guilaud?”
Ynob turned to look at Gantha with a condescending glare. His smile disappeared and formed a line. “Really, elf, I don’t see how you got a council seat.” But the wizard didn’t give time for a rebuttal. He looked down at the dusty tome. “To answer your question, no. Time for a history lesson. Maybe after it, you may all understand the danger we are possibly in. Probably not, but at least I tried.”
All eyes were on him as the wizard cracked his knuckles. Lourak gave a spiteful stare, Ra’na looked on hopefully. Gantha feigned curiosity, yet still held doubt.
“Guilaud of Deharem ruled over the human kingdom many years ago. He had a wife named Rose, who was the world to him. She was his heart and soul. While out on campaign, a piece of the plunder came into his possession. It was a necklace—a bluish stone encased in a crystal bat pendant.” Ynob looked toward Snow, whose eyes suddenly came alive with recognition. He only nodded as he continued.
“The stone was of a type he had never seen before. Later on, he wo
uld discover it was called Midnight Core and was only harvested from the Lake of Harad, deep in the Territories.”
“I think… I think I know—” Gantha began but was quickly cut off.
“No interruptions!” Ynob adjusted his robes before he began again. “This stone was also known as the soul stealer. Guilaud had no idea of this at the time, or he would have never given it to his wife. The stone has the power to capture the energy, the very soul of a person, and store it away. In a sense, with long-term exposure, one could become a walking shell of a body—living yet dead inside.”
“Undead? Are we dealing with the undead?” Gantha’s hand clamped over his mouth as he spit this out. Ynob turned to look at him, his finger pointing. The wizard lowered the finger before addressing the blurting.
“You have to have died first to become undead. This does not kill a person, just captures their essence.” Ynob stared for a moment and then shook his head. He turned a page in the tome.
“As Snow can attest, the necklace is very beautiful.”
Gantha was first to grasp the meaning. “Wait, are you saying this necklace is still around?”
Snow spoke up before the wizard could condescend. “About half a year ago, I stumbled across this human girl who had accidentally swiped the necklace from your sister.” The last part she directed at Ra’na, who looked stunned. Snow continued, “We came to Ynob to find out more about it, but he threw us out, scared to death of it.”
“I most certainly was not scared of it. You bring a powerful artifact into my home that has the potential to capture my soul and you think it rude of me to throw you out?”
A look passed between the two, a stare down. The wizard looked away first. Snow then turned to Ra’na. “Right after that, Katrena kidnapped Kara.”
“What?” Ra’na exclaimed and stood up.
“Just hold on.” The wizard stood and held his hand out in a stop motion toward the dark elf. Ra’na looked at Snow and then at Ynob. She took her seat. “This was my story and suddenly it was hijacked away from me. Let’s stick to the timeline instead of jumping all around.” He eyed everyone else in the group before he sat down. Taking a moment to brush back his hair and turn a page, Ynob let the silence pass.
“Since we are heedlessly impatient, I will skim some of the story for you so we can deal with details from the more recent past.” He silently read the words to himself on the page. “Rose’s soul was trapped by the necklace, but instead of an empty shell, something else dark and sinister moved in. A wraith.” Ynob paused, waiting for a dramatic gasp, but his audience stared at him. He made a humph sound and went back to reading.
“Wraiths are very malicious spirits. They seek a physical form, and if acquired can rain havoc. Rose became afflicted with a wraith.” Again the wizard paused and waited for some reaction, but nothing suitable came. Lourak seemed to have fallen asleep, tiny snores echoing from his enchanted beard.
Wham! The wizard slammed the book halves closed and stood up. “You expect all the answers direct from me. Yet you are lacking in wisdom to even put simple puzzle pieces together. I could have had more luck and reaction from my five-toed Ginny lizard!” His eyes glared at all the shocked faces in the room. Lourak had woken up, scratched his mouth, and sat up.
“Out. The world may be doomed, yet I will not work with imbeciles. Snow, I am going to bed. Please show them out.” With a flourish of robes, he spun and stalked off. Four steps in, he stopped and partially turned. He pointed at the dwarf and muttered something. “Be that a lesson to you, dwarf. Next time it shall be worse.” And Ynob was gone.
While Lourak tested his mouth, even sticking a finger in to make sure the hair was all gone, Ra’na and Gantha looked at each other and then at Snow. They could see the apologies in her eyes already, and Ra’na stood and took her in a warm embrace.
“We’ll go. I am sorry if we upset him,” Ra’na said to Snow.
“Aye certainly…oof!” The dwarf started, but Ra’na smacked him. He promptly shut up.
The others stood and looked nervously around. Ra’na and Snow went first, with the dwarf following after. Gantha took a moment to gaze at the tome the wizard had left in his departure.
“Are ya coming, Elf Boy?”
“Yeah….” And in a bold move, Gantha scooped up the book and hid it under his tattered cloak. He quickly caught up to the rest.
“Take this—it will keep the Lire wolves away until you reach home.” Snow held forth a lantern glowing a strange green light. Whiffs of smoke trailed from it, smelling of charcoal and lemon clover.
Ra’na nodded thanks and let Lourak climb to the door first and then Gantha, who stopped to thank the Werehare. “I’m sorry to have left him like that.”
“You at least woke him up from his deep sleep. I am grateful for that.” Snow beamed.
“Aye think aye liked him sleeping better,” Lourak muttered from outside.
Gantha exited, wondering if his stolen treasure would be helpful or come back to bite him.
***
Night, a clear, starry sky, but the moon was cold and pale. Hazel and Taylon waited the hour prescribed before meeting Zediah out in the stone circle. Euphoria was limp in the captain’s arms. It appeared she was sleeping, but she didn’t stir as he cradled her. The princess was a lifeless doll, still breathing, heart still beating, yet no other signs of life.
Zediah had not changed her dress yet had bandaged a wound on her arm. One side of her garment held stains of brown streaks, blood. But on quick inspection, Euphoria had no injuries other than her arm.
A fire blazed in the center of the stone circle; flames fueled with too much wood made sparks dance high in the air. Next to the fire was a stone altar, similar only in general shape to the one in the church back home, Taylon mused. Zediah busied himself, garbed in another ridiculous outfit. He wore a pointed hat, but from what Taylon could see, this one had a star on it. The fish robe was gone, now replaced with a darker-colored tunic with what looked like a tree etched onto the back of it.
They stepped over the first circle, a perimeter of chiseled glassy rock. Twenty feet in was another circle, which was composed of red sandstone. This second circle was all one piece, as far as Taylon could tell. It was about three feet wide. Shapes and markings decorated the surface, none of them recognizable to the captain.
At the center was the fire and altar, which rested on a dais of pure black stone. The stars and moon reflected in its surface, yet Hazel and Taylon remained absent from the mirror. The captain hesitated a moment when he noticed, but Hazel urged him on.
Zediah glanced up from his spot by the stone table. For a moment, he looked like he was surprised to see them, his head trying to figure out who they were and why they had come, but the moment passed quickly. “Good. Good…. Good! You have brought her. Quickly now! Lay her on the table.” The old man stepped back, gesturing to the altar. Before he set the princess down, Taylon caught sight of other objects on a side rock, one of them being a nasty-looking dagger.
“Um….” He started to say something about the weapon, but Hazel again gave him a nudge. Taylon did his best to arrange Euphoria so she looked comfortable, but he couldn’t imagine the table being anything but clunky and hard.
“Step aside, step aside. We must begin. Oh, oh, oh, yes.” Zediah practically shoved Taylon out of the way. Hazel took hold of the captain and moved him a few steps.
“She’ll be okay,” Hazel whispered, but it did little to reassure him. He stood back, but his instincts were alert. It was a matter of trust, and Taylon didn’t have much faith in the old man.
Sparks crackled and fled the fire, escaping into the black night. And the chanting began. The words escaped Taylon, but Hazel nodded with each phrase. Zediah threw something into the fire—incense, Taylon thought. A moment later a thick, rich smoke of honeysuckle and roses filled the air. It was almost overpowering, and the captain coughed once as too much of it got in his lungs. Hazel showed no ill responses to the aroma.
While the scented smoke flowed over Euphoria, the old man exposed her neck and the pendant. The yellow glow pulsed in the smoke. It captured the captain’s attention and held him rapt for a moment, until liquid splashed down upon it. Zediah emptied a glass vial over Euphoria, mainly concentrated on the necklace. The stone instantly became dark blue and stopped pulsing.
All froze in time—the old man, his arms outstretched over the princess. Taylon watched with worried eyes. Euphoria did not move.
“Complete.” One word that slipped into the smoke as hastily as it had come.
Taylon looked at the princess and then back at the old man who hadn’t moved since dousing the necklace. “That’s it?”
“No.” And Zediah was moving again. When his hands came up, he held the dagger. Taylon instantly tensed but fought his instincts to protect Euphoria. Hazel’s hand crept to his arm and squeezed.
“Whatever he does, do not interfere. For her sake.” The woman’s words were soft yet commanding. Taylon nodded, accepting them for now.
The dagger lay in the old man’s palms, and the chanting began. Sounds and tones the captain had never heard blended together to form words that never existed. It was like a song, yet out of key. One moment it harmonized, and the next it made one cringe. Luckily, the chant was brief.
In one quick motion, Zediah raised the blade above his head. It looked as if his intent was to plunge the nasty dagger into Euphoria’s heart. Taylon moved to intercept, forgetting the warnings, but Hazel’s grip on his arm tightened, causing a biting pain to shoot through him. In the time Taylon paused in pain, Zediah swung downward. The captain’s eyes widened as he saw the sloping arc, a cry trapped in his throat. Before the blade came near Euphoria, the old man deftly flipped the knife and smacked the necklace with the hilt.
All of Taylon’s urge to fight halted as his conscience went, What?
Zediah raised the dagger away from the necklace. The center stone had a deep crack in it. Turning to face the captain, the old man pointed to the hilt. “Crystal.” The one word tried to answer all, but Taylon remained confused. Zediah did not clarify any more as he turned to his side.
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