Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Innes

  He looked up at her questions in his eyes. "What do be happening Marisha'ilea?" Her name rolled off his tongue like silver, but there was a seriousness in his voice that made her feel reassured.

  "There is a creature of darkness here. I found the remains of some sort of ritual in one of the message rooms, along with a body much like this one. Two others have been killed the same as her," she gestured to the body.

  "We must be finding it and killing it. If such a thing be possible." Doratellan stated. He stood and cast a spell of protection about himself.

  The two of them set off, following the trail as it led them up and out onto the upper walls. They sprinted along the wall towards the central spire, thinking they knew where the creature was headed. They opened the door to a brightly lit room with two Shilaar talking to each other and drinking from goblets. They sat forward when they sensed the urgency of their expressions.

  "Send out an alert. The citadel is under attack." Marisha'ilea stated.

  "By whom? We have heard no such thing," said one.

  "It's been quiet here all night," stated the other.

  "A creature being of the darkness," Doretellan answered the first Shilaar's question. "Be on your alert. Best be setting off the alarm bells. Also be making sure that the creature does not be reaching the control room," he ordered, and as one of The Seven, he expected it to be followed.

  "Well, if this isn't its first target, what could be-" Marisha'ilea stopped as she was finishing her question. Other than dropping Mahad'avor to the ground below, how else would someone or something cause chaos in the ranks of the Shilaar? And then she knew - Endergot.

  She raced from the room, calling for Doretellan to hurry as she raced for the main tower, willing herself not to be too late, to get to him in time.

  ---o---

  Marisha'ilea stopped to catch her breath as they reached the top of the stairs, at the landing in front of Endergot's chamber door. Doretellan had passed her two flights before, having the longer legs. Now he stood facing the door having caught his breath while she ascended the last few steps. She leaned over and rested her arms on her knees, gasping.

  "You do be better getting your breath if you do be standing," he offered as he studied the door before him while casting a minor detection spell. They could hear loud crashing and roaring noises within, but if they did not remove the protections on the door, neither would make it through safely.

  "Hurry please!" she pled.

  Finally Doretellan cast another spell and there was a flare of light from the door, which faded to nothing. He stepped forward and cautiously opened the door, stepping to one side.

  Marisha'ilea could not believe what she saw. The main chamber was in shambles, furniture strewn everywhere, some on fire as the fire sprites from the hearth jumped around the room freely. But what froze her to the core was the large, black-skinned creature a span and a half tall, muscles rippling along arms and legs, which held Endergot off the floor in one claw. She barely noted the window that was shattered inward, some of the stone casing knocked into the room with it that was the creature's obvious path in.

  The creature turned its glowing red eyes on the two of them as it flicked Endergot against the stone fireplace like a wet cloth. She heard the crack as his back broke against the stone. Doretellan cast the quickest spell they were taught "Cravash!" he intoned as marbles of light darted from his fingertips to strike the creature in the chest. It screeched a horrible sound and darted forward, faster than her companion could react and struck at him with a backhand that sent him off his feet into the corner, regardless of protection spells he had cast upon himself.

  She ducked underneath the claw it swung at her and ran into the room, trying desperately to reach Endergot. She tripped over a piece of broken furniture and fell to her knees. She crawled over to him, noting the dazed look on his face, and the cuts all over his body. A fire sprite jumped onto a piece of wood from the side table in front of her, and she backhanded it towards the hearth, causing her robe to briefly catch fire and singe her. The other sprite squealed and made a face at her, then leapt onto the curtains hanging near the broken window.

  She looked back as the heat of the room started to reach unbearable levels. She thanked her forethought as the protection spells she had cast earlier that now allowed her to ignore most of the distraction of the heat. The smoke was still getting to her however, causing her to cough.

  She turned to see Doretellan swing his staff, which had appeared out of thin air, in a wide arc, striking the beast on the side of the head. The small magestone mounted in the end flared briefly and the creature screeched again and stepped back onto a burning stick of furniture, causing another scream of pain. It recovered quickly however, and as Doretellan swung again it grabbed the staff and wrenched it from his grip. The creature flung it backwards towards the shattered window, hitting a fire sprite in mid-leap, sending it out through the gap in the wall. The staff landed among the flaming ruins of furniture on that side of the room, out of reach.

  Doretellan cupped his hands together in front of his chest, creating a large ball of light, which he forced into a beam aimed at the creature's face. At this the creature turned away, screeching in pain, its skin appearing to melt away. Marisha'ilea thought she saw a human face behind the facade of the creature, but could not be sure through the smoke and flame. She had finally managed to crawl her way to Endergot's side, and knelt over him stroking his face.

  "My dear," he said quietly, "You're in danger. You must flee!" She could hear the sounds of battle behind her, and glanced back to see that Doretellan had been joined by another Shilaar, but they were not doing so well. It appeared that this creature was resistant to many of their spells.

  "I came to save you," she said on the verge of tears. She did not understand why she was emotional. All elves outlived humans, why should this human be so different as to cause these feelings within her.

  "You have," he said. He then pointed to one side. "Now it's my turn to save you." He coughed several times, Marisha'ilea noting the blood frothing from his lips. She ripped open his bloody robes, ignoring his persistent fingers, to see several puncture wounds from the beasts claws across his chest. They were all bleeding, two were bubbling. She then began to cry as she took his right hand in hers. She felt his other hand grip her chin with extreme strength. She opened her eyes as he turned her head towards the flaming sofa and said, "Look!"

  She looked at where he was pointing her, but could not understand what she was to look for. Abruptly, she saw it. It must have rolled under the sofa when Endergot was startled by the beast breaking through the window - the Staff of Everilon! Suddenly her mentor's hand went slack and fell from her face. She turned to him and saw a serene smile on his face.

  He whispered something that she couldn't hear over the screeching and crashing behind her, the flames beginning to roar around her, and the cackling of the remaining fire sprite. She put her ear closer to his mouth, "It's now up to you," he whispered, as his voice gurgled with blood.

  "But I cannot wield it!" she protested.

  "You are now the only one that can." he responded in her ear.

  "But I am not ready," she said, feeling the grip of Endergot's other hand go slack as he died. She wept for a few seconds more, and then crawled over to the flaming sofa. The heat was now enough that she was extremely uncomfortable, and the sofa was burning almost to the stone floor. She gritted her teeth and shoved her hand under the flame, ignoring the pain until her hand closed upon the shaft of the staff, her arm almost up to the shoulder under the sofa. She screamed as she pulled the staff out, amber magestone the size of her fist cradled in the scrollwork metal at one end.

  She looked up to see Doretellan sorely wounded, one arm hanging uselessly by his side, his other hand out in front, maintaining a shield that the beast was now pounding against. Sparks of yellow danced out from where the massive claws hit it, and she could tell by Doretellan's face that his shield would not last much longer. Sh
e saw the body of the other spell wielder over against the side wall. Of his head, there was no sign.

  The Staff of Everilon was in her hand, given to her by its previous master, head of the order of Dar'Shilaar. She could feel it power, its awareness, and suddenly she felt her mind opening up and she did not resist as she had the first time when Endergot had let her hold it. She was scared, not of the staff, but of all it represented, the power and the responsibility. But she let it into her mind - and accepted. And then she felt it, like a river of life, all of its secrets revealed, all of the secrets of every one of its owners back for a thousand years, all now memories within her, but not her. Spells she had never heard of, knowledge beyond understanding, knowledge lost to time - all were now hers. And she used it.

  At her scream, the beast had turned to face her, and she thought she saw fear cross the creature's face, but it was there and gone again so quick that she could not be sure it was ever there at all. It screeched at her, oblivious to the smoke and fire all around. Doretellan saw her, and she nodded to him as his spell failed and he fled the room, stopping at the top of the stairs as two more Shilaar arrived on the scene.

  "The staff won't help you," the creature said in a deep, reverberating voice that surprised her. She had not thought it could speak.

  "Of that you are mistaken." With a quick word a quick wind picked up as the air in the room was evacuated out the shattered window taking the smoke with it. With the brief lack of air, the fires were extinguished almost immediately. Then, standing in her bubble of protection, she released the spell and air came pummeling back into the room, pushing the creature around on the floor, its clawed feet scraping against stone.

  The beast jumped towards her to attack, claws aiming for her heart. She stepped forward to meet the creature, staff leading, and struck it dead center of its chest. The creature was thrown back, howling in pain.

  "You will die for that elf!" the beast threatened as it stood and turned to face her. It walked slowly at her this time.

  "Again you are mistaken. Ava'riel!" she intoned, pointing the staff at the creature of darkness as she stepped to one side. A beam of light so bright burst from the end of the staff and hit the beast in the chest, knocking it back against the wall next to the shattered window, pinning it there. The beam continued its stream, no other but Marisha'ilea able to withstand its glare. She noted that Doretellan and the other two spell wielders had moved to the side of the landing shielded from the light of the beam. The beam was continuous, pure, and white burning the black of the creature's skin, peeling it away to pink human skin below. The creature howled and thrashed, knocking stones from the wall in its pain. A huge chunk of the wall fell outward, crashing to the courtyard below. She heard the faint screams from the revellers below.

  Suddenly the black, oily skin burst apart into the air, and fled out the wall like a swarm of insects as the body within dropped forward onto its knees.

  At that, she let the beam of light dissipate, and strode forward to look upon the face of the assassin. The body looked to have had its skin removed, all covered with blood and its muscles visible. She stopped several paces away from the oozing figure as he looked up. His eyes were bare, as were his teeth, all skin from his face gone.

  He coughed up blood. "You have not won. My master is coming for you." She recognized the voice of one of the other recorders, and her eidetic memory supplied his name as Koltan.

  "But now we know, so we can be ready." She replied more calmly than she felt.

  "You'll never be ready," he responded. And at that statement, he wrenched himself to his feet and flung himself out the jagged hole in the wall into the now dark sky. There was a scream, which cut off abruptly, followed by a deep cackling.

  Doretellan and the other two Shilaar ran to the window to look out after him. "There be no body," he stated looking back at Marisha'ilea, who still stood where she was, looking down at the Staff of Everilon in wonder. She was still trying to comprehend what this meant.

  Part IV

  As the world fell apart around us, I wondered really if this course of events, this war, would have occurred anyway, had I Chosen not to take the magestones in the first place? Was it destined? My ego tells me no, that there is no way anyone else was good enough to sneak in, foil all the magical wards, and get out again without being caught. My head tells me otherwise.

  If they had found someone else - dare I say stupid enough - to accept the commission, would they have succeeded as I had, or would they have failed, forcing this warlock to use more direct and possibly brutal methods to obtain the stones? My heart wants to believe that I saved lives by originally accepting the job, and justify it by believing this war was coming anyway.

  In the days following the invasion, in talking with Celia, she brought up the fact that graduation ceremonies were always before held in Mahad'avor - always. But this time, they had sent unbound magestones to Tala'ahar for a ceremony that was requested to be at the Imperial Palace - for the first time ever. Celia believes this is the thread to unravel, assuming we can find the correct end to pull.

  Whatever the truth, the path ahead always lays in shadow. You can put plans in motion, but only luck and good timing determine success or failure. I happen to believe in luck a lot. But I also plan ahead.

  Journal of Hoyle Dardanel

  The 11th of Julra,

  In the year 89 IR (Imperial Rule)

  Chapter 27

  Hoyle sat with the other three, tied to the center pole of the heavy oilcloth tent. Even with him and Robart trying, they could not get enough leverage to lift the pole enough to slip their bonds free. Well that fact and the four guards standing over them. By this time though, they had moved to a side table and were pulling out some dice.

  "Well this has been some experience, these past few days," Robart griped noisily, "traipsing through the forest with you. Ending up captured... yet again"

  "Oh drop it already, or get us out of this yourself. Probably get yourself killed by these four dunderheads." Hoyle replied, irked.

  "Hey you two keep yer traps shut, ya hear?!" one of the guards called at them from the gaming table, looking up from the game they just started to see what was going on. He was obviously satisfied they had not moved, and turned back to the game with a grunt. Hoyle watched as the two facing them looked up after scooping the dice on every throw. No help there.

  "Hey Celia, can you do the glowing flame thing you did last night?" Hoyle whispered to Celia.

  "Not without immolating the three of you," she replied.

  "Well, let's not do that then," Robart chimed in, too loudly, causing two of the guards to look over.

  "Shut yer traps, or we will breaks them!" the biggest one said. He was still a hand shorter than Robart, but probably just as heavy, based on the way his belly stuck out from under his chain shirt and hung over his belt.

  "Okay, that's out. Valena, got anything that can help us out of this?" Hoyle directed at the small healer.

  Valena shook her head, "No. Sorry."

  "Okay then," he said as he rested his head back against the pole, and closed his eyes against the lantern light. Mentally he checked his spatial memory, having memorized the contents of the entire room in the last few minutes.

  He mentally checked off each item: two guards outside by the tent flap; the small table to one side of the large tent, with four folding camp chairs that the guards were using to play dice; four dicing cups and twenty-four dice if they were playing Best; a chest on the other side of the entrance from the table, where the guards put their possessions, Robart's greatsword leaning against it; a large heavy camp desk and sturdy chair on the opposite side of the pole from the entrance, behind which was another flap to the back room of the tent; lit lanterns on top of the desk, hanging from the pole they were tied to, and the third on a pole near the side table the guards were using; several carpets on the ground as the floor; a weapons rack near the chest holding a few mundane items, but no weapons.

  "Fin
e, go to sleep then." Robart grumbled. "We're only going to die when that warlock gets back."

  He opened his eyes, and took note of the few minor things he had missed, but was overall satisfied with his memory. "We're not going to die."

  "And how do you know that?" asked the large man.

  "Because I make sure I always have a back-up plan." He replied.

  "Well what is it?"

  "We wait." Hoyle responded cryptically.

  "For what?!"

  Hoyle stayed silent and leaned his head back against the pole and closed his eyes. Let him fume he thought. I owe him nothing.

  "For what?!" Robart asked again louder, drawing the guards' attention.

  "Does we need ta gag ya, you loud brute? Cause we will if ya say one more word." This came from the smallest one, with his back to the quartet.

  "Not what, who." Celia whispered. "Salrissa."

  "Fine. I'll wait." With that Robart stayed quiet, finally understanding that there was possibly a rescue in the works. Robart had never fought her, nor really seen what she could do, so did not have the confidence that Hoyle did about being rescued. Especially at night. Night was her element, like her natural environment in which she was the predator and everyone else was the prey. The Goralonians just didn't know it yet.

  ---o---

  Short while later they heard a large contingent of men shouting a war cry that became a continuous sound, and then over the span of a few minutes dwindled to nothing. Within moments, a similar noise as by more men, but further away began, punctuated by the sound of catapults flinging there large payload towards what he suspected was the Fort. The attack had begun in earnest.

  The sounds of battle began a long distance away, and became a constant background noise. Suddenly a shadow sped through the tent from the back room, and had extinguished the lantern by the side table, and sliced four necks in the span of seconds, with almost no noise save that of the dice spilling onto the table from cups. The four men fell onto their sides on the carpeted floor; the figure that Hoyle knew was Salrissa, kicking the legs out of the camp chairs as she went. The guards made no noise as they hit the thick wool rugs, and could neither scream, nor breathe to call out a warning to those outside.