Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands

by Daniel White

  “Aashkara, today I travel to Darkna. We shall converge there together. You must not think to destroy the temple before I arrive, or I may be compelled to return you to the Life Afterwards. For as long as you live, your soul is bound to my storm. Your own storm, however powerful it may be, cannot contest that.”

  Aashkara leered at Malath through thinned eyes then, without words, launched herself into the air once again and soared over them, disappearing from sight.

  Selayna and Dron scurried to where Malath stood, continuing to stare in the direction the dragon had left.

  “She truly is a formidable creature!” exclaimed Dron.

  Malath lowered his gaze and smirked. “Yes, truly she is.”

  Selayna did not appear impressed.

  “That beast—you will end her once she has served our purpose, won’t you, Brother?” she asked.

  Malath touched her cheek. “Of course I will, Sister.”

  There was no doubt in Jon’s mind that Malath meant it. He would not allow a creature of such power to exist in a world in which he planned to hold sole supremacy.

  In short time the horses which had fled were returned to the courtyard and the procession was on its way to Darkna. Jon remained standing, pacing back and forth in the confines of the cart. After beholding the resurrection of the dragon he was feeling ever more hopeless than before. Yet, his mind went on spinning. He wanted to know what was happening, how things would eventuate. He would not close his eyes when they could still be open.

  People eyed the procession timidly as it moved down the streets of Galdrem. They huddled in groups, close to the entrances of shelters in case any harm was wished upon them. In the distance, Jon could see Aashkara perched upon the eastern wall of the city. It was likely that many of these people had witnessed the dragon passing overhead. To those unfamiliar with the fable of dragons, and even to those who were, for that matter, she must have appeared a winged demon.

  Up ahead, cries of alarm broke out. Some of Malath’s followers were pointing toward the Synod’s tower. Jon looked to see an orb of fire hurtling down toward Malath. It was Ferven finally taking action! The fire was short-lived. Malath waved his hand and it dissipated into a cloud of black smoke seconds before striking him. He signalled his company to halt and calmly trotted back to his captive’s cart. He leered down at Devéna.

  “It would appear I have forgotten about your cowardly leader. Whatever am I going to do?”

  Devéna didn’t reply, just closed her eyes and turned her head.

  “You should end that old fool, my lord,” spouted Dron. “Show these human vermin your primacy. Show them a sight before they never see again.”

  Malath chuckled. “Yes, yes, that is what I shall do.”

  He drew his staff and pointed it at the tower. With a thunderous crash, the tallest turret imploded and began tumbling to the ground below. There were screams and cries from the onlookers on the street but laughter and applause from Malath’s followers. Jon was sickened. He opened his mouth to curse at them but stopped himself, realising that the words he had been about to utter were too revolting to do so in the presence of Devéna. Instead, he sullenly watched the last pieces of the turret falling away.

  As Jon’s gaze fell, he noticed a figure within a nearby crowd of onlookers who wore an aera’s cloak. It was Sinin! He must have returned to Galdrem after checking upon Aldrick. His attention was fixed on Malath, who had turned to reclaim lead of the procession. There was a dagger in his hand. Jon urgently waved his own hand to draw Sinin’s attention. Sinin glanced up at him with an expression that told of his deadly intent firmly etched on his face. Jon shook his head, urging him not to proceed. The aera glared back at Malath for a moment, then grudgingly sheathed the dagger. A woman with a young boy in her arms came to his side. He embraced them. Jon waited for Sinin’s attention once more, then mouthed the words “Get them out.”

  Sinin nodded. He turned and quietly ushered his family away.

  Jon sat and sighed heavily. One could only pray that there was still a chance for those here in Galdrem. There might yet be time for them to board ships and pursue lives in distant, safer lands. The Sanswords Malath was to resurrect would not willingly follow them across water. Whatever fate was to befall these people, it was not far away. Malath would reach Darkna before the sun’s setting and have the untold power he so coveted in his wretched grasp.

  16

  ILLUMIR

  Aldrick’s thoughts were fractured by an excruciating throbbing in his forehead. He opened his eyes in a daze. He couldn’t see. He was blind! Wait… no. No, he was just somewhere very, very dark. He held one hand to his head and searched for the ground with the other. He couldn’t find it. Apparently he was floating… was he dead? The thought terrified him. Was this what death was—an eternity of conscious nothingness? No, that couldn’t be right. He was just confused. He began to slowly heal his head wound with storm.

  When he no longer felt any pain, Aldrick ignited a small flame in one palm and peered around. He was upside down, suspended a short distance above a rough rock floor. Something floated in the air around him… water! Large blobs of water were drifting slowly and aimlessly about like bubbles. Their source was a steady drip from above. Now he recalled entering the cave.

  “Télia!” His voice echoed. No answer was returned.

  Looking more closely, Aldrick saw bones strewn across the rock beneath him. How had he come to be suspended above them? It must be storm—some kind of warding wall. It had not stopped him abruptly. Had it, he wouldn’t be conscious. For whatever reason, he had been intentionally spared from a fatal meeting with the ground.

  Using his own storm, Aldrick propelled himself sideways, keeping his flame alight to guide his way. Soon the vigour of the storm holding him up weakened and he touched down against solid ground. He stood, brushed himself off, then brightened his flame.

  He was in a massive, seemingly roofless hollowing beneath the mountains. It was eerie. It felt like a dungeon—bare, cold and hauntingly quiet. He squinted to see beyond the reaches of his flame’s light. There was no sign of any wielder who possessed the storm that spared his life. Surely there was something here though, something causing the distortion in gravity. He walked until he found a smooth rock wall and began to follow it. With any luck, he wouldn’t find himself back where he started.

  In a few minutes Aldrick came to a sharp corner. Around it was a sight that made his heart skip a beat. Jutting from a great mound of pale rock was a seam of remarkably large, luminous green stones. This was the source of the Halfstone his father found all those years ago! Excitement rippled through him. His fall had not been in vain. Perhaps it was these very stones which had caused the distortion in gravity. He assumed they held storm within them now—it was why they illuminated their surroundings in the enchanting way they did.

  He made toward them, pausing suddenly as his flame wavered, as if it had been caught in a draft. It did so only momentarily, then continued burning as a sphere again. This was a good sign. If there was a nearby passage that led to the outside world he might not have to find a way back up the crevasse he fell down.

  Aldrick continued to the base of the mound encrusting the stones. Its surface was rough and in many places fractured, but looked sturdy enough to take his weight. He clambered to the top where the seam of stones peaked then arced left. Their green glow was so intense that Aldrick no longer had need of his flame. For a while he just stood and gazed upon them. They took the form of stalagmites, only their surface was far too smooth for them to be so. At their core their glow was fiercest. In places, it almost appeared as though there were organic veins running through them.

  Hypnotised, Aldrick reached out to touch one. The mound shuddered beneath him. Startled, he stepped back, tripped and tumbled painfully down to the cavern floor. He hurriedly scrambled back, away from the living stone… but it wasn’t stone at all. The seam of green flared brighter, revealing the figure of a massive winged creature awakening
, unfurling. Aldrick stared in terror. The creature lifted an enormous lizard-like head and opened crystal blue eyes. He gulped; he was about to die horribly.

  To show his awareness of total inferiority, Aldrick bowed his head and gave the creature opportunity to do away with him as it pleased. He could feel its eyes firmly fixed upon his puny, trembling figure. Surely a killing blow would come at any moment…

  “Human.” It was… speaking to him?! It had a deep, grumbling voice—an avalanche of rocks down a mountainside. “You are no human.”

  Aldrick lifted his head very slightly and looked up to see its own now very close to him, held up by an elongated neck of plated scales. It was surveying him keenly. He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak but no words came out.

  The creature retracted its head and appeared to frown. “You are a storm wielder, are you not?”

  This time Aldrick was compelled to reply.

  “I… I… am, yes,” he stammered, remaining huddled upon the ground.

  “Peculiar,” the creature said musingly. “And why have you interrupted my drowse?”

  He frantically racked his brains for an innocuous reply. “I meant not to, oh great… one. I mistook your body for stone. But I see now that you are a mighty and majestic being.”

  The creature frowned again, and then yawned, revealing jagged fangs and a forked, snake-like tongue.

  “Wielder, there is no need to offer me flattering words. I do not intend to harm you,” it said plainly.

  “You don’t?”

  “No, for you and I are alike.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes. You and I are storm bearers both. It is rather a shame you aren’t a wild creature, though. I find myself peckish.” The creature rested its head upon the ground, now seemingly uninspired by his presence.

  Aldrick cautiously got to his feet. “You… are a dragon, aren’t you?”

  It snorted loudly and misty vapour erupted from its nostrils. “Yes—dragon, that is what inhabitants of this world call me.”

  “Of this world,” he repeated. “You are not from this world?”

  “No. I come from its moon. Solemn, I believe you call it.”

  He was dumbfounded. “But… what? How long have you been down here?”

  The dragon didn’t reply immediately. For a second Aldrick was sure he saw the sad and distant look of reminiscence in its eye.

  “For a long time I have been here,” it said finally.

  Aldrick continued to stare at it. His world had been turned upside down when he discovered he was a wielder, but now, having strayed upon this dragon from another world, his concept of reality was being radically reconstructed. In past days, he had been quietly attempting to mentally prepare himself to witness the dragon Malath revived, but encountering this one down here in the lonely dark was unforeseen and almost inconceivable. Perhaps the most ridiculous thing of all was that he was conversing with it.

  The dragon’s fiery blue gaze met him once more. “Wielder, you failed to tell me why you are here…”

  “I fell down here.”

  “This was the result of mere foolishness and misfortune?”

  “Foolishness, yes, but not misfortune, as it turns out. I was looking for something…”

  “What was it you were looking for?”

  “I was looking for a piece of the luminous spires which line your back.”

  The dragon lifted its head and scratched its chin with a razor-sharp claw that extended, along with four others, from one of its front feet. “That is a most peculiar thing to be looking for, wielder. Tell me why.”

  “Years ago my father found a piece in this cave. A piece that must have broken off of you. I assume you know it withholds storm. I seek a piece so I can trap another wielder’s storm inside it.”

  “That seems like a rather foul and devious thing to do. Why would you wish to do that to a fellow wielder?”

  “Because the wielder himself is foul and devious. He thinks of humans as vermin and means to rid the world of them.” Aldrick’s jaw clenched. “And he murdered my parents.”

  “Ah, so you are on an errand of righteousness and revenge, then?”

  “I am.”

  “That I can commend, wielder. However, allowing you to leave with a piece of my backbone is something I am less inclined to condone. As you said, my spires hold storm within them. Storm is my life-force.”

  “I completely understand,” Aldrick replied hastily, fearing he may have angered the dragon. It still appeared quite calm. Its eyes were half closed. He wasn’t focused on convincing it to give him anything right now anyway. He was far too fascinated by its mere existence and skyward origin.

  “So, you are from Solemn,” he began. “Why then have you been here so long in this dark, isolated hollow of the Narathlands?”

  “Solemn was my old home, yes,” the dragon said forlornly. “I was left here after a disagreement with the king of my kind.”

  “You were exiled?”

  “Yes. We came here many ages ago, bringing with us the remnants of another race of dragons we were in feud with on Solemn. They are vile and depraved creatures that blindly devour and burn storm, rather than endeavour to preserve a natural balance, as my kind does. Our king wanted them gone from our world forever. He banished them beneath the earth here, to be eternally scolded by molten fire and intoxicated by the wealth of storm the heart of this world bears within it. I believed that punishment too pitiless and told him I would not allow it. He was enraged and commanded me to remain here. Though he wished never to see me again, he had heart enough to spare me the hellish fate of our foes.”

  Aldrick’s mouth was half open. He pressed his palms against his temples so that his head wouldn’t explode. “Are you telling me that there is an entire race of dragons trapped beneath the surface of this world?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “Surely it’s not possible,” he said in awe and bewilderment.

  The dragon chuckled in a deep and rather disconcerting way. “A revelation I would not expect such a modest-minded creature to comprehend. I assure you, though—it is the truth.”

  Aldrick sighed. “Actually, there is much that has come to light recently that I have found difficult to comprehend, and the truth is, I’m becoming somewhat accustomed to it.”

  The dragon chuckled once more. “I find your company enjoyable, little wielder. Do you have a name?”

  “My name is Aldrick,” he said. “And what is your name, oh sky dragon?”

  “My name? It will hold little meaning to you and sound unpleasant in utterance, so you may call me what you will. Go on Aldrick, give me a name.”

  He thought for a moment. What could he call a giant, stone-scaled dragon that glowed in the dark? “Well… because you illuminate your surroundings, I will name you Illumir. How does that sound?”

  “Illumir,” the dragon repeated thoughtfully. “Yes, I like it.”

  Aldrick felt more relaxed now, though still fairly dumbfounded; he had just befriended a dragon. He had also discovered that, essentially, there was a hellish underworld beneath them. It wasn’t the best of news.

  Télia and Kaal now came into his thoughts. They were probably searching for him. They might think him dead! He needed to get back to them. Today was the day Malath planned to infiltrate Darkna. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. It could already be too late! Considering the circumstances, he reasoned they needed this dragon, Illumir, on their side. He could give Malath’s dragon a run for its coin. It would undoubtedly be their deadliest foe. He just needed to convince Illumir that there was cause to aid them.

  “So, Illumir,” he began. “Those vile and depraved dragons you spoke of… perhaps just by mere coincidence, the foul wielder I want to kill has one under his command and is using it to retrieve for himself the power to wage war across these lands.”

  Illumir’s attention was caught. “Nonsense, the few that escaped the banishment were put to death. It is not possible
that one still roams the surface of this world.” He spoke with apprehension, afraid his words were false.

  “It should be impossible, yes. But this wielder can resurrect the dead.”

  Illumir looked at Aldrick for a moment and then scowled. “This foul wielder of yours is making a momentous mistake. Do you not realise what this means, Aldrick? The dragon will seek to free his kind, and should they escape, they will set this world ablaze.”

  “There is a way it can free them?” He hadn’t really considered this.

  “Yes. Lord Wielder Akimr, who ruled when those dragons were brought here for banishment, helped our king forge a seal which was to forever shut the chasm down which they were banish—”

  “Hold on, hold on… wielders were involved in this? Then why does no one seem to know anything about it?”

  “History can easily be forgotten. I presume Akimr ordered that there be no written account of it, in case someone ever sought to break the seal.”

  “What exactly is the seal? Was it forged with storm?”

  “Yes, a great temple was built at the mouth of the chasm. Into its stone the king infused vast amounts of his storm. If that temple were ever destroyed, the seal would be broken.”

  Realisation struck Aldrick like a club to the forehead. “Darkna—the temple that stands at the mouth of a mighty chasm! That is where Malath is leading the dragon to gain him access to the power he desires—the Shard of Heart’s Storm. That is where it is kept. He doesn’t know what he is doing! The dragon will destroy the entire temple! We have to stop it. We have to go there now!”