Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap

by Mark Caldwell Jones

  “STOP!” Eltheon yelled.

  The change in tone shocked Opal and made her yield.

  Eltheon backed away and pointed. “LOOK! LOOK AT THE STONE! It burns with your anger! CONTROL IT!”

  It had smoldered through another garment. The sheer tunic that Opal had been wearing was now black, ashen, and flaking away in the breeze. The stone was on fire.

  Eltheon yelled again. “Stop it, if you can!”

  Opal couldn’t stop it.

  “Watch me now! Do not move!” Eltheon said in a calmer voice.

  Eltheon closed her eyes and reached for the stone. With the other hand she grasped a white quartz hanging on a silver chain around her own neck. Opal had never given it a second thought. Crystals were ubiquitous in Fallmoon Gap.

  Eltheon was muttering a strange mantra, like an enchantress whispering spells. She cupped her hand under Opal’s necklace. A tiny ball of white energy appeared in her open hand. It mushroomed and Eltheon molded it with subtle movements of her fingers. Her fingers closed around the stone and the white ball enveloped the fiery opal.

  A sudden bolt of euphoria hit Opal in the chest. The blast moved through her like an arctic river, drowning out the wildfire of her wrath. She felt the stone cool. Eltheon’s chant ended. The ball of energy dissipated. The emotional reversal stunned Opal.

  When the drama of the moment was over, Opal looked into Eltheon’s eyes to see that her normal, reassuring look had returned, and Eltheon could see the blue of Opal’s eyes had been restored.

  Eltheon’s mouth curled into a mischievous smile. “Training session one complete. Now we know for sure!”

  All the craziness of the last few moments had been a test. They both watched as Eltheon slowly peeled back her fingers and released the stone. There was not a mark of damage to her skin—no burn and no redness. Opal was amazed to see that Eltheon was unharmed.

  “You possess the Agama Stone my sister!”

  Opal looked down at her now sleeping necklace.

  “It has a name?”

  “Yes, all the rare powerstones do.”

  “Well, whatever it’s called, I’m not sure I possess it. It seems to possess me. It has its own mind!” Opal was emotionally exhausted. She sat down on the floor with a huff.

  “It’s my hope that you’ll let me train you. It would be an honor to teach you what I know.”

  Opal could see that Eltheon was a bit misty eyed. She could feel that Eltheon’s concern was genuine. Maybe she could be a friend.

  God knows I need one right now, she thought.

  In her mind she heard Eltheon say, I need a sister too. I’ve been alone in Fallmoon Gap for too long.

  Opal felt ashamed at how she had acted. She took the necklace off and held it up in the light. She looked at it closely. “The Agama Stone.”

  “Yes, the rarest of the powerstones. It was a Treasure of the Cathedral, until it was lost many years back. I have been told that only a few in its whole history have been able to wield its power correctly.”

  “Well, Ellie—can I call you Ellie?”

  She laughed. “You just did. Like you said, Opal does what she wants!”

  “Yeah? Well Miss Ellie, maybe I will take you up on that offer,” she said with a half smirk.

  “Opal, trust yourself above all others. I like your self-confidence. There is great wisdom in that. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Don’t misdoubt me. The next time you refuse my help, the butt-kicking is going to be a lot worse!”

  Opal laughed the hardest she had laughed since her whole adventure had begun.

  Eltheon’s test reminded her of how Bree and Hud had taught her life lessons. The message was always clear, but the love was more evident.

  63

  Amina used her power to reach through the giant moonshine still. She could feel the heat of the boiling mash, but it did not burn her. Her fingers brushed against what she wanted, and with a little bit of effort, she pulled it out just as her sorcery closed the hole behind her hand.

  She held something that looked like an oversized apothecary bottle. She licked a bit of moonshine off the glass and then smashed it on the ground. The scroll was completely dry and intact as it rolled out amidst the broken glass.

  For a moment, she didn’t want to touch it. It was a relic of her horrible past. She flashed back to her girlhood on the shore of the North Fork, playing in the water, hunting for rocks that contained tiny sea-creature fossils. She remembered finding a big one right as the horrible hill goblin appeared and carried her away. She screamed at her sister and friends—they were only yards away—but they just turned in horror and ran.

  She wished she had been killed immediately, but the lesser goblins had decided she was too tasty for a quick meal. She would make a perfect treat for their king, so they set her aside for a special occasion. She barely fit in the goblin’s cottonwood cages. She barely stayed sane listening to the screams of other stolen children.

  When she was finally presented to the goblin king, he was sharpening his dinner knives and bargaining with a conjurer named Gemaea. Before the magic erupted, she made some strange connection with the woman. Maybe the conjurer could sense her dormant power? Maybe she witched it out of her in that very moment? Whatever the cause, it began: Amina unleashed enough black magic to kill several lesser goblins and mortally wound the king. Gemaea was impressed and offered to help Amina escape, as long as she promised to be her apprentice.

  Amina agreed, but before she left she grabbed the sharpened dinner knife and eviscerated the dying goblin king. The strange scroll spilled out from inside him and lay in the heap of his guts. He had hidden it in his belly just as Amina would hide it in a moonshine still years later.

  Gemaea had speculated that it was the famous Hill Goblin Scroll that taught the Harvesting Spell. The Harvesting Spell had never been used, because it had the potential to destroy the Veil.

  Amina felt it was her right to test that theory. Why else would she have been taken from her home? Why else would her sister and family abandon her to those monsters? Why else would she have suffered?

  She was destined to be strong.

  She was destined to find the scroll.

  She was destined to control the Veil.

  64

  Jakob Prismore seemed to be more ancient than the Ozark Mountains themselves. He was a brittle stalk of a man, witty and wise, but slow in step. He was inelegantly dressed in common workingman’s garb. Opal thought he looked awfully shabby for the guy who was supposed to be the leader of the Fallmoon Gap. His presence felt very strange and disarming to her.

  Opal stood quietly in the corner of his extraordinary room, then she cleared her throat.

  “Excuse me, Professor Prismore?”

  Jakob’s beard jutted out. It looked somehow both wiry and soft like cotton. His long hair was slicked back under a brimless black hat made of goatskin. His blustery eyebrows looked like the tips of dove’s wings. They hid many of the lines etched into his tan, leathery temple. All of the hair on his body was sun-bleached white.

  His room seemed to be a bubble of blown glass. Thin but strong pine framing housed massive windows on all sides. He sat rocking back and forth in the middle of the room, like an astronomer waiting for his telescope to be delivered. He was watching a bright full moon rise over the ridges of the Ozarks.

  Opal shuffled forward and the elder finally turned and acknowledged her presence.

  “Opal Summerfield. What a sight you are. How I have hoped for this day. Welcome! Please come in,” he said warmly. He struggled a bit as he stood up.

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Oh dear, you flatter this old man. I am no professor. No, not at all. Please, just call me Jakob.”

  “I’m sorry, Jakob, I thought I had a class here tonight.”

  “Oh, you are meant to be here. But let’s consider our time together a chat, not a class.”

  Most of the great glass windows were hinged, and many w
ere open, letting in a cool breeze. Opal looked up through the windows at the canopy of twinkling stars.

  “Quite magnificent, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful,” Opal replied.

  “So we meet among profound things to chat, perhaps, about other, more profound things? I’m sure you have many questions, am I right?”

  “Well, you could say that. But I have no idea where to start. So much has been happening. It’s been quite—”

  “—an adventure? If I may impose my own description?”

  “Yes, you got it.”

  The old man moved a bit closer. He walked at a slant with the aid of an elegantly carved hickory cane. It was stained a rich brown that shimmered like the hide of a horse in the sun. Because of his great height, the walking stick seemed a half-length longer than average. The grip was black from years of use. Embedded in the handle, Opal could see an opal similar to her own.

  “Let’s continue your adventure, shall we?” His eyes narrowed and he tapped his walking cane on the ground. It began to give off a radiant white light. Opal’s stone began to glow in response. It radiated the same color, but more dimly, as if it were a voice trying to match the notes of a more accomplished singer.

  “You have one as well?”

  “A rare powerstone? Yes! This one is called Knarray. It is different than yours. All are unique. All have different abilities. They are mysterious, but with some careful study you can learn the pattern of their enchantments.”

  The air in front of Opal and Jakob seemed to dilate. Through this magical door, she caught a glimpse of a garden.

  “You see, each color indicates a different type of magic. The color white appears when one uses the power of apportation—the magical movement of people or objects. Yours has this power as well. Walk with me,” he said.

  Opal followed Jakob through the strange portal.

  “Do you remember this place, Opal?” he asked.

  “No sir. Should I?” She noticed the window to her room above them.

  “This garden is now called the Courtyard of the Honored. It was a very different place before you were born. It bears the unfortunate distinction of being the site of a terrible battle within our cathedral, an incident we now call The Battle of Fallmoon Gap. You were born in this very spot, to an extraordinary woman, a woman I loved like a daughter. Her name was Sanura Windfar.”

  “I was born here?”

  He pointed the handle of his staff at a stone marker. “Yes. Right here,” he said.

  His stone began to emit a vivid emerald light. A vine of trumpet creepers emerged from the ground and encircled the marker with its tendrils, blooming flamboyant horns as it went.

  “Green is the color of elementalism—the magical manipulation of nature,” he said.

  “Amazing!” Opal said.

  She reached forward and picked one of the watermelon-colored flowers. She admired it and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Your mother single-handedly defended the women and children of Fallmoon Gap who were taking refuge in this part of the cathedral during the battle. She held off a horde for many hours, even while wounded. Sadly, she succumbed to her wounds as reinforcements arrived. But she saved many of our most precious, including you. She is considered a hero throughout the Veil.”

  Opal could see the name Sanura Windfar written across the top of the stone marker.

  “A hero?”

  “Sanura was from Liberty Creek, a town like Grigg’s Landing. It is sealed off from the rest of Arcania by the Veil. She could have lived a quiet, happy life there, but she decided to devote herself to a more noble cause—the protection of the Veil. Few would give themselves in such an unselfish way. And now we have invited you to follow in her footsteps. Have you had time to consider whether this is a path you would like to undertake?”

  Opal couldn’t help but notice how Prismore glossed over the great risk her mother had taken to fight Amina, and its dreadful result. Didn’t he see that she was in the same dangerous situation? His offer had a hint of snake-oil salesmanship to it.

  “Well, I’m really confused about it all, to be honest,” Opal said. “I mean, I appreciate the offer. It’s just something so different from what I ever thought my life would be. I just wonder—”

  “—if you should accept?” asked Jakob

  “No. I wonder if I’m able to be what you want me to be,” Opal replied.

  “I see. I appreciate that you are considering it carefully. Let us continue our walk,” he said.

  A new portal dilated and the humid night air rushed in. Opal followed Jakob through to a rocky outcropping below the walls of Fallmoon Gap. They stood overlooking the valley. Jakob held his staff tightly, and through his finger tips Opal could see a familiar orange glow.

  “Tiger-eye, the gemstone of premonition. Its glow warns us of danger. But of what? That is always the question. A Stone Wielder must unravel that mystery,” Jakob intoned.

  Opal heard the neigh of a horse. Through the trees, she could she a cloaked rider coming through the forest. The horseman kept looking over his shoulder, as if evading pursuit.

  “Who is it?” Opal asked.

  “I don’t know, but both stones are asking us to take notice,” he said.

  Opal looked down to see the same light emanating from her necklace. Jakob was right—the stones once again glowed in harmony. She could feel uneasiness spreading through her chest. The more she stared at the rider, the more her feelings of misgiving grew.

  “Maybe he’s up to no good? A Hood? We should follow him!” snapped Opal.

  “It’s enough that we have noticed him, but your eagerness to act is appreciated. There is little doubt that you possess the same spirit as your mother. The Veil needs you Opal.” Jakob pointed toward the rider as he slipped away out of sight. “As you can see, danger is always lurking in the shadows.”

  Opal looked up at Jakob and asked, “What about my father? Did you know him?”

  Jakob turned away from Opal into a new portal. She followed him once again and they emerged in the darkness of a cave. A sunflower-yellow light radiated from Jakob’s staff and filled the great expanse of the cavern. Jakob and Opal were on a ledge overlooking a tremendous sight.

  Jakob was avoiding her questions about her father. Opal felt annoyed by his misdirection, but magic from Jakob’s stone began to numb her irritation. She took note of the yellow energy radiating out of Knarray. It was as if the stone was pushing her to let Jakob control the conversation.

  “Where are we now?” she asked. Her mind and the Agama Stone secretly fought back against Knarray.

  “We are directly under the mountain, right below Fallmoon Gap.”

  Two flowstone columns rose from the shadows below the ledge. They reached up hundreds of feet through the middle of the chamber and disappeared into the shadows of the cave’s ceiling. The columns twisted together like yarn twirled on a giant’s tying table. They were made of opalescent stone.

  “This is called The Great Helixflow. Nothing like this exists within the entire Veil. These formations were created over a great expanse of time, millennia upon millennia.

  The old stories say that our powerstones were cut from these columns by a powerful ancient magic. And right above this, something just as spectacular,” he said.

  Jakob and Opal walked through another portal and emerged in the grass yard surrounding the large Crystal Tree. They were back in the Courtyard of the Honored.

  “The roots of this Crystal Tree have intertwined themselves with the Helixflow. It has been this way for as long as we have known it to exist.”

  “So that is how it gets its magical qualities?” Opal asked.

  “Yes, precisely. It is believed that the Helixflow powers the entire Veil. It is the source of all magic. Now indulge me one last time,” he said.

  Jakob backed away from the tree. He waved his cane, created another portal, and Opal and Jakob walked into her bedroom overlooking the tree. The two of them stood side by side admiring
the crystal blooms that twinkled like fireflies in the night’s shadows.

  “You asked about your father, and I will now answer you. Your father was a great man—just as noble as your mother, fierce in battle, and brave beyond anyone I have known. This is why Sanura was so drawn to him. Like the Helixflow, their spirits were intertwined from the moment they met. Their passion gave life to our community, and in time, to you.

  When your mother died, your father was deeply wounded. Just like the Crystal Tree would die if it were cut from the flowstones, he was broken and could not heal. He was overcome with grief and anger. He turned from our ways and lost his spiritual compass. He was obsessed with avenging your mother’s murder and finally left the Wardens and Fallmoon Gap,” said Jakob.

  “Is he still alive?” she asked desperately.

  “Reports said that he died in the Ozark Wilderness, pursuing your mother’s killer. It was a tragedy to lose him that way. And once again, Opal, I find myself sorry to share such unpleasant news with you.”

  “Who was it? Who killed my mother? Who was he after?”

  “A powerful conjurer named Amina Madewell. She was part of the plot that led to The Battle of Fallmoon Gap. She sought to destroy Fallmoon Gap. Your mother lost her life standing against her. But in the end, Sanura repelled Amina and saved us.”

  “I know her, don’t I?” Opal snarled.

  “I’m afraid you have encountered her, yes.”

  “By the river? She was the witch controlling those monsters?”

  “Yes, I’m sad to say, that seems to be the case. We had assumed she was dead, but it’s obvious now that she has reemerged. When she was found to be alive, I sent Wardens after you. Unfortunately, Amina seems only to have grown in power. She is relentless in her obsessions.”

  “Let me guess, she wants the—”

  “The powerstone, yes. Your mother used it to fight off Amina. I imagine she sees it as a threat. You are very intuitive, Opal.”

  “Why do I even have this thing?” she asked.

  “A powerstone is not given to any one person. It chooses who must bear it. You have been chosen. You were born a Stone Wielder. As for what you are to do with it…” Jakob trailed off.