by Bill Mays
“Something terrible heads this way,” Xina stated without feeling.
“Not ye too!” Sarry yawned.
“She is right. I fear the Dark Lord of Drackmoore has located me. I have reason to believe he will come for me at any cost.”
“Is that all? Why did you bother waking me? Drackmoore is far from here. We’ll be to Gurdail and gone before he or his men ever catch sight of the Siren,” Kottia smirked confidently. “Anyway, she can outrun all the ships in his fleet, without contest. I actually tested that theory a couple of times.” The woman patted the doorframe as if it were a close friend.
“Captain, you forget he is a wizard of no small skill,” Xina interjected. “His magic moves with a speed beyond anything we can hope to match.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, she‘s right again,” Tark agreed.
“Damn you magicians and your spells!” Kottia grumbled. “Sometimes I wish magic would leave this world for good!”
“If we do need to worry, what are ye suggesting then?” Sarry was now wide-awake.
“Is there anywhere to dock nearby? Any tiny island I could swim to, anything at all? I’ll take my chances,” Tark stated boldly.
“There isss nothing!” Sslath hissed angrily. “We ssshould throw him overboard now, captain. The crew isss right, he isss cursed!” The lizard man and the gladiator exchanged glares.
“Give me a reason not to take that advice, Drackmoorian,” the captain stared at Tark sternly. She was studying him for any reaction.
“He is …” Xina began, but a stern gesture from Kottia silenced the mage.
“I have none to offer except to say that the Dark Lord will not let you go even if you were to surrender me. That is not his way. I understand that you must do what you must do.” Tark stared back with confidence.
Kottia seemed to mull the choices over in her mind. “Then what are we supposed to do? How can we combat a wizard of such power?” The pirate captain looked beyond frustrated.
“There is but one choice,” Xina spoke up. “We fight magic with magic.”
“I can appreciate the bravery. Yer good girl. I’ll admit that, but I doubt ye can contend with the Dark Lord of Drackmoore on yer own. The tales of that wizard have been passed around since I was a child,” Sarry stated bluntly.
The mage looked to him with a slight grin. “I won’t be alone. The lady and the gremlin will aid me. Perhaps even the fairy.” Tark looked shocked.
“Don’t be so surprised, gladiator. We knew about them all along. By the way, the gremlin owes me for some minor repairs,” Kottia half-smiled, half-smirked. “Don’t think you can keep things from me on my own ship.”
“We will also need your help, Tark. You are the one chosen by fate after all,” Xina added.
“My help, but I’m no mage,” the big man balked.
“That is true, but I’ll wager you hold a power greater than any mage alive. With its strength behind us, we might just stand a chance.”
Tark was suddenly aware of the gem pulsing against his chest wildly. It, too, could feel that the Dark Lord was coming. He slid a hand beneath his jerkin and gripped the artifact tightly.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered as he fought back his growing anxiety.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Sorohl’s waves grew choppy, and the predawn horizon grew dark. The clear sky was fading as thick black clouds rolled in out of nowhere to block out the early rays of day. Winds began to blow with a strength that threatened to rip the sails from their masts. The Siren was being tossed around like a piece of driftwood caught in a swift current.
“This is no natural storm,” Kottia announced with a hint of trepidation in her voice. “I’ll wager that your Dark Lord has arrived.” She used one hand to pull her thick hair from her face and mouth as she spoke. “Can you calm it?”
Xina stood at her side. The woman’s already wild red hair was whipping about her darkly tanned face. “We will see,” was her only reply.
Tark and Kreasha were present, too. The lady huddled against the big man for protection from the sea spray and powerful winds. Ado and Nivit clung tightly to the inside of the gladiator’s backpack. The gusts of wind had grown so strong that neither of the little folk dared to fly lest they risk being blown away.
“This is madness!” Kreasha whined. “Why are we standing in this? We should be below deck. How are we going to stop a whole storm, anyway? Can’t we just dock somewhere and wait it out?”
“This storm is meant for me. Meiron is coming,” Tark stated as he stared off into the black clouds.
“Well, surely he doesn’t want you dead if you’re so important to him,” the lady replied confidently.
“Do we at least have that truth to hold to, Drackmoorian?” Kottia stared at Tark. The captain awaited an answer.
The big man hung his head low as his shoulders slumped. “I wish I could give you that reassurance,” he grumbled.
“He wants the gem, right Mr. Tark?” Nivit squealed loudly from inside the pack. “Ouch!” the girl cried out. “What was that for, Mr. Ado?”
“Stupid fairy!” Ado squeaked in response.
“If it is the gem he wants, why not give it to him?” Kottia stated seriously.
“If he were to claim the artifact’s power, all of Pangias would be in danger,” Tark replied. “At least that was King Airos of Kandair’s belief.”
“I believe he speaks the truth, captain,” Xina added. “The artifact does hold great power.”
“Artifact? What artifact?” Kreasha asked in confusion. “You mean he doesn’t want you? He only wants something you carry?”
“Maybe both, I can’t be sure, but my life is by far less valuable to him.”
“Well, isn’t that just marvelous,” the lady spat sarcastically. She looked at the growing storm in a new light. “Shouldn’t we begin this attempt at blocking the old man’s magic?”
“She’s right,” Kottia shouted. The winds were growing to a howl and the ship began to rock wildly on the growing waves. “If this storm gets much worse, we’ll all be going under.”
A large wave struck the side of the Siren, jarring her sharply to one side. Tark and Kreasha fell to the wooden planks. A thin sheet of water washed over them and a soaked fairy went sliding and coughing towards the edge of the deck. Xina also stumbled, but the agile captain grabbed her by the arm and kept her on her feet. The pirate woman then sprinted to catch Nivit before she was swept away. Kottia returned to the gladiator and held out a half-drowned fairy.
“You dropped something,” she smirked.
Nivit coughed violently until she cleared her lungs. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Miss Kottia!”
The tiny voice startled the pirate. The captain dumped the girl into Tark’s pack and wiped her hand on her pants. She noticed that everyone was looking at her oddly.
“It started talking,” she explained with a shrug. Ado giggled as Nivit struggled to right herself.
“The ship’s taking on a lot of water, captain,” Sarry shouted as he ran by the group. The dwarf was running back and forth trying to keep things operating smoothly.
“Get everyone we can spare bailing! Sslath, take us to calmer waters!” Kottia called out with authority. The muscular lizard man was at the ship’s helm, doing his best to keep their course steady. “In case you missed it that was your cue to get started. I want to see some magic fly and some clouds dissipate. I’ll be bailing if you need me for anything.” The captain ran to join her struggling crew. She was determined to keep them afloat.
“Well, you heard her, wild woman,” Kreasha shot Xina a look of impatience. “You’re the one directing this show. Tell us how it works already!”
Xina motioned for Tark to stand between them. She took no notice of Kreasha’s insult. “You must concentrate on what you want to happen, gladiator. The artifact holds great power. I can sense its strength. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered, and it has chosen you to wield it. We can only hope
it will hear your cry for assistance.”
Tark pulled the gem from beneath his jerkin by its cord. He cupped it tightly in both hands. The blue radiance was bright in the darkness engulfing them. Its steady pulsing, as always, was calming to him.
“Such power!” Kreasha gasped as she looked upon the artifact for the first time.
“The rest of you must add whatever enchantments you can to the field I create.” Xina prepared to start her spell.
“Field? What are you planning to summon, amazon?” The lady in red questioned skeptically.
“I will create a zone of protective probabilities,” Xina replied.
“A what?” Nivit chirped.
“It is an area where things will work in our favor. I only hope it will be enough.”
“That’s enough hoping, just start casting. I don’t know what I can add, though,” Ado admitted. “I work mainly with grand illusions.” The gremlin was feeling slightly inadequate. He did not know any spells to fight a storm.
“Create a clear sky with calm weather, and focus on that thought,” Xina cried out to be heard.
“And me?” Nivit chirped enthusiastically.
“Just add whatever positive thoughts and energy that you can. If something magical that’s relevant comes to mind, feel free to add it as well. You can do the same,” Xina added the last statement for Kreasha’s benefit.
“I’ve been listening. I know what to do!” The lady snapped in annoyance, or maybe it was fear. It was very hard to tell.
A forceful gust of wind nearly took the women from their feet. They both held onto Tark for stability. The pirate mage continued her casting. The magic she called on was powerful. It would drain her considerably, but it was needed. Ado began mumbling his own spells while Kreasha did the same. Nivit sat huddled and wet. The fairy dreamt of the forest in spring. She envisioned the wild flowers in bloom all about her. She pictured sunny skies and the smiling faces of her friends, Herrin and Lilelee. Then Nivit cast the spell that Ado had taught her. Into the sky shot a brightly colored rainbow. Its many hues swirled about the ship into the air.
Tark took to a sturdy stance to brace himself from the tossing ship and the growing winds. He held the gem with an iron grip. His mind called out for its help. He could feel the pulsing intensify. It was pounding in his hands and sending vibrations through his entire body. He felt his limbs trembling as his muscles reacted to the energies flowing through him. Something was definitely happening. A burst of blue light shot from the big man’s eyes and Tark released an excruciating cry of pain. The light swirled through the air and lit the invisible field Xina had created around the ship. The blue lights traced the edges of the dome until they disappeared into the dark waves.
“What was that?” Ado squealed nervously. The tiny mage felt the intense power in the magical energies released by the gladiator. Tark did not respond. He was lost in a trance.
“I don’t know what it was either, Mr. Ado, but it sure was pretty,” Nivit breathed in awe.
Surprisingly, Kreasha was chanting spell after spell and adding their strength to the dome. Ado could not really make out the specifics, but they sounded like protection enchantments. Maybe the lady was useful after all, he thought. Xina began to laugh. Her arms were spread wide and raised to the sky. Her eyes were shut tightly.
“What’s wrong with you, amazon? Focus on your casting!” Kreasha snapped angrily. This was life or death here, and she was not playing around.
“Can’t you feel it?” The tall woman replied in her strange accent. “The winds are lessening and the waters are calming!” The amazon sorceress was right. Everything did appear to be settling down, though just beyond the ship the storm continued to rage out of control.
“Yea! We did it!” Nivit cheered as she leapt into the calm air.
“Do we know how long this will last?” Ado questioned, afraid to take flight himself.
“Yes, it wouldn’t do for us to suddenly be cast back into that mess,” Kreasha added, as she attempted to wring some of the wetness from her hair, which now hung in her face. She had lost her bejeweled headband in the high winds.
“It should be enough to carry us through this storm and to Gurdail’s shores,” the flame-haired mage smiled. “Fate has seen fit to watch over us this day.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Powerful energies filled the small room. The air in the scrying chamber was literally crackling with magic. Meiron leaned over the bubbling-green liquid at an angle that did not seem physically possible, without him falling into the acrid pool. His eyes were gone from sight. Only bright red light shone from the sockets. His dragon-scale cloak fluttered in the strong winds whipping about the chamber. His arms were stretched wide to either side of him and the pulsing gem hung from his neck, dangling mere inches from the image reflected in the pool. It was enhancing his magic, adding its own considerable power to the casting. He glared down on a small ship riding the waves of the Sorohl Sea. It was the Siren. Her crew was aiding an escaped slave of his. That alone was enough to guarantee the pirates’ deaths. His contacts among the Order of Four had alerted him to the ship’s location and the renegade’s presence there. He was overjoyed to hear of the runaway’s reappearance. The gladiator was aboard; he could feel it. Better yet, the artifact he sought was still in the man’s possession. His recent and troubling setbacks would become inconsequential. The escaped Messengers of Vergehen would be unimportant. Rugen’s failure would be unimportant. Even the loss at Talipax would no longer matter. Soon, he would hold a second artifact of the ancients. He would wield two legendary gems of power. With that strength, he would crush any who dared stand in his way. His magic, combined with the stone’s gifts, would lead him to the others. They would each call out to him in turn, as the red stone had once done. The mighty Dark Lord of Drackmoore would reconstruct and don the legendary crown. He would become the Lord of all Pangias, and the second such ruler in the history of the continent. The only difference being that he would hold onto his throne.
The pursuit of power had consumed the man from an early age. His own limitations had led to much hardship in his youth, and much loss. His drive to learn more and thus gain more magical might had kept him absorbed and pushed him to the edge of his sanity. All of his humanity had been traded long ago for the power he sought. Never again would another dominate him. He spent his considerable lifespan destroying those possibilities from ever happening. He held power beyond most men’s comprehension; and very soon, he would hold even more. The excitement pulsing through the ancient wizard’s veins was intense. He felt as if he could almost reach into the pool and pluck the stone from the gladiator’s hands -- what a pitiful champion the blue stone had chosen. He was nothing more than a runaway slave. A cackle of laughter spilled forth from the wrinkled wizard’s lips. He finished the incantation and reveled in the strength of his summoned storm.
“You are nothing more than ants beneath my heel! You and that pitiful rebellion will be blown away like dust in the wind!” He screamed with glee. “I will have you, artifact of the ancients, and I will slay your champion. You will come to me and join with your brother. Together we will reunite your family under my rule. All of the stones of power will be mine! With that unequalled strength, I will rule this world! I will become a god among men!” Meiron’s expression was on the verge of insanity.
He cackled again and again, as he watched his storm growing and tossing the tiny ship about. Such fools they were to think they could oppose him. There came a flare of blue light from the ship’s deck. Its source was undeniable.
“It cannot be …,” the old man whispered.
The blue gem had been used against him. Others, mages of some skill, had added their strength to the artifact’s defense. They were resisting him. The storm was an immensely powerful spell. It could not be maintained for very long. Meiron felt the power of the artifact. Even though it was working against him, its energies made him hunger for it all the more. He felt a tinge of fear seep into his
mind. Had the warrior learned to wield the stone? The old wizard then began to laugh even harder. It took him hundreds of years to learn the secrets.
“You dare to challenge me? You are but a boy, a warrior no less. I am Meiron, the slayer of dragons, and master of the gates from beyond! I am the Dark Lord of Drackmoore, the most powerful and feared wizard on all of Pangias! I have only been toying with you. Feel the true power of the ancients!”
The words that spilled forth from the man’s mouth were in a language long lost to the world. He spoke the secret chants. He called on the strongest power of the red stone.
* * * * * * * * * *
“You did well!” Kottia half smiled, half smirked, as she approached the small group surrounding Tark. The gladiator awakened from his trance only to collapse to the deck, exhausted. Sweat replaced the salty spray on his skin, keeping him slick.
“Thank the warrior,” Xina grinned back. “He has used the artifact’s might to shield us from the wizard’s powers.”
“Hey! We were helping, too!” Ado squeaked as he folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t give that big oaf all the credit!”
“Yes, we were,” Kreasha seconded. The lady was also a little put off at not being given her due praise.
Kottia ignored both of the whiners. “We seem to be sailing just fine, though the storm that’s brewing not twenty yards from my ship leaves me a bit nervous.”
“It makes me nervous, too,” Nivit chirped. “Those winds look awfully strong.”
“The probability zone protects us from harm,” Xina assured them. “It has been reinforced with all of our efforts in addition to the gem’s power. We should have no more worries from that storm.”
“What about that old wizard? I doubt he’ll give in so easily, right warrior?” Kottia looked to Tark.
“You must drop me off at Gurdail as quickly as possible. I am truly sorry for the trouble I have caused you,” the big man sighed. His mood had been a very sad and dark one since he awakened from his trance. “I should not have dragged you all into my problems.”
