by Mark G Heath
Campion opened the door and stepped down onto the ground, pleased to be free of the undulating carriage. He would have been quite content to walk down from the church, but Tsangarides would have none of it. The priest held the box in front of him as Tsangarides hopped down from the carriage and turned and helped Novac alight from the vehicle.
“ This way, your eminence,” said Campion. He began walking down a path between the trees and the Arch Priest followed, his highly polished boots kicking through the snow. Tsangarides closed the carriage door and brought up the rear. Foliage and the trees, all coated in white, enclosed the path on either side as it led through the forest. All that could be heard was the sound of the three men’s boots compressing the snow as they walked. The usual sounds of the forest were stilled by the fall of overnight snow. A crow took off from a tree, the flapping wings disturbing the calm and dislodged snow fell from the branch onto the forest floor. After a short walk, the trio emerged from the path to see two buildings stood to the left of the path and two more on the right. The buildings were made of stone and timber, being single storey in height. Smoke rose from each of the chimneys, the grey pillars climbing into the sky.
“ Here we are,” announced Campion. He continued along the path, between two of the houses and made a right-hand turn once he came to a short fence built at the end of the path. Novac halted at the fence and looked over it. A steep, sheer drop fell away to the river churning below. He continued following Campion up some wooden steps and onto a porch, which overlooked the river and the forest on the other side. A rocking chair was positioned on the porch and a small upturned barrel beside it, on which several melted candles were placed.
Campion strode to the front door and knocked firmly upon it. Novac stood beside the priest and noted that three small rubies were embedded in the worn timber, at about head height. He glanced to his right, attempting to look in through the window but the interior appeared too dark to allow inspection. He reverted his eyes to the door as it opened and a youngish looking man appeared in the doorway. He had short brown hair and his similarly coloured eyes were filled with intelligence. Of moderate good looks, he wore a neatly trimmed beard around his mouth and his chin and was dressed in a well-made and close-fitting jade coloured tunic. The collar was upturned, several small green gemstones sewn into the cloth and they caught the daylight, sparkling.
“ Your eminence, this is Lostrec Ringthane,” declared Campion.
“ Lostrec, this is his eminence, Arch Priest Syed Novac and his Under Priest, Juran Tsangarides.”
“ Gentlemen,” said Ringthane in a well-spoken voice, giving a slight bow to the two men.
“ Master Ringthane,” replied Novac.
“ Please, come in,” said Ringthane.He led the men into his house, the interior contrasted with the simple exterior. A large fireplace dominated the room and a sizeable fire burnt within it, a pile of fresh logs heaped to the right. Thick rugs lined the floor, showing no sign of the stone or timber that lay underneath. Various books lined a shelf and Novac noted that each book had a gemstone in the spine, the various colours glinting in the firelight. A large chest of draws was set into an alcove in the wall on the left-hand side of the fireplace. It had numerous small draws and looked more akin to something one would find storing wares in a shop. Numerous well-made chairs were placed around the front of the living room, a pair by the fire, two winged chairs in a corner and two elbow chairs beneath the window. Opposite them, effectively cutting the room into two was a chaise lounge, on which a number of plump cushions were placed. Behind the chaise lounge was an oblong table, around which there were six chairs. Two doors led from the living room, although both were closed.
“ Do take a seat,” invited Ringthane. Novac walked forward and positioned himself in one of the winged chairs in the corner of the room. Tsangarides took the chair besides his master. Campion perched on a chair beneath the window, along from the Manfurian Arch Priest
“ Before I sit down, may I offer you some refreshment?” said Ringthane.
Campion looked across at Novac.
“ No thank you Master Ringthane, we are not in need of refreshment at present.”
“ Very well,” replied Ringthane and he sat on the chaise lounge, placing his hands on his black breeches. He wore several rings, each displaying a large gemstone rivalling the size of those sported by Novac.
“ Well, I see you have brought it with you,” commented Ringthane nodding his head towards the box that Campion balanced on his knees. Ringthane’s face was alight with excitement.
“ Yes, all here,” answered Campion lightly tapping the container.
“ May I see it?”
Campion looked across to Novac who gave a short nod. Campion unlocked the box and flicked open the clasps. He turned the box around and opened it. Ringthane leant forward to look into the box.
“ By Traen, it is magnificent,” he said. He reached out to pick up the crown.
“ All in good time,” said Novac and Campion promptly closed the box causing a look of disappointment to flood across Ringthane’s face.
“ You must excuse my apprehension Master Ringthane, but we have been let down once already since our arrival in Aftlain and a second disappointment really could not be countenanced,” said Novac looking at Campion. The priest looked crestfallen and fixed his eyes on the lid of the box.
“ You know the provenance of this item?” asked Tsangarides.
“ Oh yes, it is the Crown of Mainvere, the artefact of the Duke of Mainvere’s authority and source of his governance,” said Ringthane.
“ Fashioned from gold that had been mined from the Toran Peaks, the melted gold was infused with blood from each and every member of the Mainvere line. Added to this was bone ground from the preceding, deceased, first, second and third dukes of Mainvere.”
“ You have done your research Lostrec,” complimented Campion.
“ Oh that is not the best part of this scintillating artefact. Six emeralds have been set into the gold. They are flawless. Each of the emeralds has been melded with the souls of the powerful. The First bears the soul of a malevolent sorcerer, the Second the unholy spirit of a death knight, the Third, one who was skilled in the dark art of necromancy,” explained Ringthane.
“ The Fourth the soul of a dryad, The Fifth the unblemished soul of a paladin,” continued Campion.
“ And the Sixth the spirit of a witch hunter. Very good,” said Novac.
“ So, you realise the power contained within this crown which had been lost to men until recovered by Priest Campion.”
“ After exhaustive and extensive exploration,” added Campion.
“ Yes, in fairness, Priest Campion has done well in unearthing the crown, although of course, it was expected of him,” said Novac.
“ Yes, the might that is ingrained within both metal and gemstone in this crown is considerable indeed,” said Ringthane.
“ You can harness it?” asked Tsangarides.
“ I can invoke the power held within the emeralds, yes. Not the gold. That is a different craft altogether,” said Ringthane.
“ It is only the emeralds that we are concerned with Master Ringthane,” explained Novac
“ You are needed to extract the essence of the emeralds, the crown is to be given to Father Campion as reward for his assistance in this matter,” added Novac. Campion gave a small, self-congratulatory smile. Novac clasped his gloved hands together and leant forward.
“ I shall be forthright Master Ringthane, your youth troubles me. The might trapped within these emeralds is considerable and not one ounce of it must be lost, otherwise our grand design crumbles.”
“ If I may provide your eminence with some comfort, Lostrec’s appearance is deceptive. He may appear not far from the first shave of manhood but in reality he is aged beyond sixty winters,” said Campion.
Novac gave a surprised look.
“ Is this true?” he asked.
“ It is your eminence. One of the
advantages of my craft is that it pays particularly well and with this comes the opportunity to afford concoctions that maintain youth and vitality,” said Ringthane.
“ Vanity is often a trait of gem invokers,” added Campion.
“ Is that so Father Thomas, I thought it was priests,” smiled Ringthane looking around at his guests. Novac waved his hand to dismiss the playful comments.
“ So you are confident that you can match the power within the emeralds, harness it and bring it to heel?”
“ Absolutely,” said Ringthane smiling widely.
“ Campion advised me that you are without peers in your craft, hence your residency in this village,” said Novac.
“ He is correct.”
“ I certainly sense no weakness on your part,” replied Novac, “ very well, Master Ringthane shall attend to the extraction of the essence from each emerald. Pass him the crown.”
Campion opened the box once more and lifted out the crown. He passed it to Ringthane who took it in two hands, the gold gleaming and the emeralds flashing, in the firelight.
“ Breathtaking,” he said studying the crown, turning it in its hands.
“ Now, what makes this crown extra special is not only is the essence of each emerald powerful and thus capable of extraction by only the highest skilled, the emeralds are bound to the crown by glyphs of holding. You see the small symbols around each gem stone,” said Ringthane pointing to an example.
“ Yes, we have seen that,” answered Tsangarides. “ I must admit, I could make no sense of those etchings.”
“ Understandable Under Priest Tsangarides. Those glyphs are there to prevent the emeralds from being removed from the crown say by a thief, or by the blow from a weapon. Similarly, if one was to attempt to undo the glyphs when one has not the requisite knowledge it will result in the emeralds remaining intact but fracturing, dissipating the essence within and rendering them worthless.”
“ I admire your knowledge Master Ringthane, but I shall be honest, it leaves me somewhat uneasy given the magnitude of the task you face,” said Tsangarides.
“ Put aside your concerns, the matters rests with me now,” said Ringthane.
The gem invoker stood up and placed the crown on the table. The holy men all stood up and drew closer to afford them a better view of what Ringthane was doing. He placed three fingers on the first emerald and closed his eyes. He began muttering something, but the words were spoken softly and quickly and could not be discerned. Ringthane opened his eyes and placed his fingers around the edge of the emerald giving it a sharp tug. It lifted away from the crown. With a grin, he held the large gem up before him, twisting it in his fingers.
“ Behold, the first,” he said.
“ It is intact?” questioned Tsangarides.
“ Of course it is,” answered Ringthane. “ I shall now release the second.”
“ Before you do that, I should like to see you extract the essence from the first emerald,” said Novac.
“ By all means,” said Ringthane. “ Here hold this, would you?”
He passed the emerald to Tsangarides who took it, cupping the gem in the palm of his hand. The Under Priest looked anxiously at the gem as if it would ignite or crumble in his hand. Ringthane moved to the large chest of many drawers and pulled open one. He lifted a folded piece of white silk from the draw and placed this on the table behind him. The gem invoker opened a second draw and carefully removed a thick-looking glass bottle, which had a gold lid held in place by two clasps. He set the bottle down on the table also and returned to the folded silk. Methodically, he opened it up so that a square was created, approximately three hands across. The border of the square was filled with small symbols, which ran all the way around the square. Smoothing out the silk, he placed the bottle inside the square, flicked back the clasps and removed the lid, putting it too down in the square.
“ Emerald please,” said Ringthane. Tsangarides handed the gem, relieved to no longer have custody of it. The gem invoker set the emerald down within the square and then held both his hands above the gem. Similar to before, he began to mutter, a stream of unusual utterances issued from his mouth. The emerald began to glow, a green light forming around it. The three priests edged closer to the table as within the light, a lighter shade of green light appeared, like strands and rose from the gemstone to swirl and coalesce above the emerald and beneath the canopy of Ringthane’s hands. More of the tendrils of light flowed from the emerald, the area around the table now bathed in green light, the faces of the holy men lit by it. The dark green glow grew, spreading out from the emerald and Ringthane, still chanting, lifted his hands. The dark green light formed a sphere and within it, the tendrils of light green light spun and floated. Slowly, Ringthane moved his hands towards the bottle, the orb following as if attached to his palms. He raised his hands the orb following suit. The sphere hovered over the neck of the bottle and then the strands of light green began to fall into the bottle, snaking downwards, writhing and twisting as they slipped into the container. Eventually, each wisp of light green now twirled and floated inside the bottle, the dark green orb emptied. Ringthane parted his hands, reaching promptly for the lid, which he placed atop the bottle, securing the clasps, and then he halted his chanting. The orb vanished and he picked up the bottle holding it aloft. Utterly silent, the three priests stared at the container and its pale green, swirling contents.
“ The essence from the first,” said Ringthane.
“ Marvellous, marvellous,” said Novac and he took the bottle from Ringthane, peering intently at the hypnotic essence within. Ringthane walked over to a sideboard and lifted a large, heavy, wooden box from it, by a handle set in the top. He placed it on the table and opened the three clasps set across the front. Lifting the lid, he beckoned for Novac to hand the bottle back. The Arch Priest hesitated.
“ I have a case for all six bottles. Whilst the bottles are made with strengthened glass I don’t suppose you want to risk dropping one and breaking it do you?”
Novac handed the bottle back to the gem invoker who slid it into a compartment within the box, where it sat, held tight and secure.
“ Besides, I have not been paid yet,” added the gem invoker.
“ You shall have no concerns about payment Master Ringthane,” assured Novac.
“ Please, do continue,” said Novac.
“ You want me to extract the second?”
“ But of course, I see no reason for delay,” said Novac.
“ Very well,” said Ringthane. He picked up the emerald, which was now perfectly clear and moved it out of the square before he returned to the crown. He reached out with three fingers and placed them on the second emerald and began his incantation. This time, a yellow glow formed around the edge of the emerald, the light becoming brighter as Ringthane continued pressing his three fingers against the gemstone and whispering the relevant arcane words.
A bang sounded causing the priests to jump and two yellow lights streaked from the crown. One of the lights hit the back of a chair beneath the window and flames burst from the material as soon as the golden light struck the chair. The second arcing light struck above the fireplace and again, flames sprang up. Ringthane continued with his work, as if he had not heard or seen this activity.
“ Get that chair out of here,” ordered Novac. Campion grabbed a large cushion and began to beat the flames on the wall as Tsangarides stooped, to avoid being caught by the flames on the chair and grabbed its two front legs. Novac turned away from the fire fighting to watch Ringthane, who was still chanting. Tsangarides hauled the chair, scraping it along the floor and exited the house. The flames now enveloped the top half of the chair and he steered the chair across the porch as he backed down the steps, mindful not to let the fire set the wooden roof of the porch ablaze. He looked behind him at the drop away from the path down to the river and with a grunt swung the chair around and flung it from the path. It bounced off the side of the steep riverbank, the flames trailing as it fe
ll, before landing in the river. The Under Priest watched as the chair floated away. The top part poked from the water, still ablaze as the current carried the chair. Tsangarides returned to the living room to find that Campion had successfully extinguished the fire on the wall, at the expense of an ornate cushion and a black mark on the wall.
Ringthane turned to the three priests and held up the second emerald.
“ Number two,” he said. “ That was a spicy one,” he laughed wafting the smoke that lingered in the room with his hand.
“ Is it intact?” asked Novac.
“ Most certainly,” said Ringthane.
“ Good, extract the essence,” commanded Novac motioning towards the silken square. Ringthane nodded and took another bottle from the chest of drawers. He placed it, as before, in the centre of the square and removed the lid. He carefully put the emerald beside the bottle and took a deep breath. The gem invoker spread his hands above the emerald and began the low, rapid chanting once again.
“ This is the progress I have come to expect,” said Novac to Campion who remained silent.
Within a few moments, the dark green glow had manifested and grown, coerced by the craft of Ringthane. Moments passed and then the first pale green tendril of essence emerged from the emerald, like a blade of grass growing from the earth. Another wisp slid from the gemstone and then a third, until a clutch of wavering stalks of essence drifted out from the emerald. Campion glanced at Ringthane whose brown was furrowed in deep concentration. His eyes had glazed and the veins on his neck stood out with the exertion of the task. A trickle of perspiration ran down his forehead, halting at his eyebrow. The gem invoker began to shake as he lifted the orb upwards, the spinning essence trapped within it. Suddenly, his hands dropped and the orb dipped down towards the emerald again. Ringthane’s chanting became louder, although the content remained unintelligible. He grimaced and then hauled the orb upwards again, over the top of the bottle and held it in pace, body still trembling. The essence seeped into the bottle, Ringthane’s hands swaying slightly, causing the orb to move too, the tendrils being dragged about.
