Pirates and Wizards

by Jaxon Reed

  Loadstone nodded in agreement. He stretched out his hand and carved out a hole in the ground with magic, in the middle of the clearing. Redstone made a scooping motion with his hands, and Darkstone’s body floated off the ground and down into the hole. Loadstone covered it up with dirt.

  Mita walked over and picked up the fake Forlorn Dagger she had created. She threw it back into the ground at the head of the grave, the hilt serving as a makeshift marker. The three of them stood around the fresh grave for a moment, respectfully.

  Redstone cleared his throat and said, “O Creator, we send him to you for Judgment. Our lives are longer than others, and we know You hold us accountable for our additional time here. We send this man to you, our brother in the magical arts, and ask You judge him impartially, as Your scriptures say you will judge all of us at the end of our lives. So be it!”

  Loadstone and Mita said in unison, “So be it!”

  Together, they walked back to where the wizard had fallen asleep. His staff lay on the ground, the darkstone dully reflecting dappled sunlight.

  Loadstone turned to Mita and said, “I believe this is yours. Pick it up.”

  She looked at both men. Redstone smiled and nodded his encouragement. She reached down and picked up the staff. The wood felt very smooth and very old. She expected the darkstone to start glowing. Or something.

  She said, “Nothing’s happening.”

  Loadstone said, “It won’t fully bind to you until you pass the tests. Then the stone becomes truly yours. For now, keep it safe.”

  Redstone said, “Expecting something more dramatic?”

  “I don’t know,” Mita said. “It’s been used for evil so long, I half expected a feeling of doom to pass over me.”

  “The stones are not good nor are they evil,” Loadstone said. “They are simply tools. As such, they can be used for grand purposes or ill-begotten ones. But in and of themselves, they are neither. It is people using them who are either good or evil.”

  Mita nodded, turning the shaft so she could examine it closely.

  Redstone said, “We need to get back and inform the others. Oldstone has given me passage to his castle.”

  He cast a transport globe and its hazy yellow light slowly rotated, casting glimmers around the clearing.

  Loadstone smiled at Mita and made a motion with his hand. He said, “After you.”

  She smiled back and walked through the globe and into Oldstone’s library.

  -+-

  Mita was greeted with a round of cheers and applause when she walked in, all the wizards around the table standing up at the sight of her carrying the staff. Redstone and Loadstone followed her in, smiling and nodding.

  The Troublesome Trio stood with everyone else, but did not smile back. When the congratulations died down, Quartzstone spoke up in a disapproving tone. “May I presume the staff was obtained honorably, according to our edicts?”

  “A lot more honorably than he earned it, I’ll wager,” Redstone said.

  Oldstone raised his hand for silence before Quartzstone could respond. He said, “The edicts state two wizards should vouch for an initiate obtaining a staff.” He quirked an eyebrow at Redstone and Loadstone.

  Loadstone said, “He attacked her. He attacked all three of us, in fact. Mita defeated him in combat.”

  Silverstone snorted. Skepticism crossed the faces of Quartzstone and Sandstone, too.

  Oldstone raised a hand again. He said, “Is this true, Redstone?”

  Redstone grinned, his orange beard moving with the muscles in his face. He said, “Aye!”

  “There we have it,” Oldstone said. “‘The word of two wizards shall not be crossed.’”

  The Troublesome Trio frowned, but offered no further resistance. Arguing against an edict was futile.

  “At this time,” Oldstone continued, “we will vote on allowing Mita to begin the trials, and joining our ranks as the new Darkstone. All in favor, raise your right hand.”

  Quartzstone, Silverstone, and Sandstone stood with their arms crossed while everyone else raised their hands.

  Quartzstone said, “Greystone is still not with us.”

  Oldstone nodded and said, “He has informed me ahead of time, if this situation were to develop, he is not opposed to Mita beginning her trials. A majority has agreed. Mita will depart as soon as she is rested and ready. Thank you all for being here. I will arrange a globe to take you back from whence you came.”

  The Troublesome Trio left first, in a huff, saying goodbye to no one and traipsing through the hazy yellow globe as soon as it appeared. Several others stayed a while to offer Mita personal congratulations and to hear more about the battle. Trapping Darkstone in her dream proved to be a popular idea, and they wanted more details.

  About the battle in the physical world, out in the clearing, Redstone provided plenty of graphic details, telling the story from his vantage point several times over.

  At long last, Oldstone politely suggested everyone should leave so Mita could get some rest. One by one, the remaining wizards exited through the hazy globe rotating slowly in place in the middle of the library. Redstone and Loadstone were the last to leave, departing simultaneously. Loadstone smiled at Mita before going through the globe, his bright white teeth shining out from his dark almond skin.

  “Well done!”

  She smiled back at him, and he walked through the globe with Redstone, disappearing from sight.

  Oldstone turned to her and said, “Indeed, well done. When you feel up to it, you can begin your trials. The castle has been floating toward the northern Ageless Isles for some while. We’re over water now, as a matter of fact.”

  Mita said, “No globes?”

  Oldstone shook his head. “The island we’re going to can’t be reached by spells. A flying castle is the easiest way to get there. Most people have to take a boat.”

  “Did you take a boat?”

  “Yes. And so did all the others who were just here. Consider yourself fortunate.”

  “I take nothing for granted, Master.”

  “Good. That’s a good quality in a wizard.”

  -+-

  A week passed after Trant had taken Kathar. The metal men stood at even intervals in a circle around the walls of the castle, their animus spell spent. Now they were mute reminders of battles past.

  Unlike the villagers, Katharians had no qualms or fears about the metal men. Most had not seen them in battle, only marching through the streets. In a few days after Greystone had parked them in their current locations, people came to accept them as part of the landscape. Children climbed over their feet while parents and others strolled under the shadows they cast without concern.

  Trant felt concern for different reasons, as he peeked out from the curtains of a side chamber in the Emerald Cathedral. On a nearby dais sat a throne. Not the Emerald Throne, but the one used by the King of Emerald while attending worship services. It had not been used in many years, since Endrick never entered the cathedral. Next to the throne stood a podium, and a small table holding the crown that Endrick had tossed aside in his flight from the castle.

  Always in the back of Trant’s mind, Endrick loomed. He had not been apprehended. Trant took the castle with minimal trouble, Endrick’s orders to hold at any cost notwithstanding. The giant metal men proved to be quite persuasive. Most of the men guarding the castle had fought with the same contraptions. Seeing them now under Trant’s command, or at least his wizard’s, led to a quick surrender. It helped that Darkstone was nowhere in sight.

  Despite a thorough search of the castle, inside and out, Endrick was nowhere to be found, either. At last someone thought to look down in the dungeon, and found the jailer’s bloody body along with Endrick’s discarded clothes.

  A search of the dungeon followed. Someone noticed tracks in the dust leading to the end of a corridor. A secret doorway was discovered, revealing a tunnel which exited some distance away in a vineyard. The clues thus assembled, it seemed obvious Endrick had s
lain the jailer, donned his clothes, and exited through the tunnel.

  He could be anywhere by now. Trant put that uncomfortable thought out of his mind and refocused on the present.

  The seating area was packed, the pews filled with everyone of importance from two realms. Dignitaries from other kingdoms besides Coral were present as well, many sending emmisaries to declare their support for the new regime.

  Sitting on the front row were King Keel and Queen Kita, along with Princess Margwen. She looked his way, as if expecting him to peek out at that moment. He caught her eye. She smiled and her warmth and love flowed across the cathedral, filling his heart.

  Greystone walked up behind him and clasped his shoulder. He said, “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Get the crown, settle things down in the kingdom, then you can marry her.”

  “You have an uncanny way of discerning my thoughts.”

  Greystone chuckled and said, “I don’t have to be a wizard to notice the way you two pine after one another.”

  “Do I pine after her?”

  “You’re like a puppy dog following her around.”

  “Really? I am to be King and you think this woman has me so smitten that I’m eating out of her hand?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I know it.”

  High Priest Gustaff approached the podium on the dais and all eyes in the cathedral turned toward him. A tall and skinny man, he could have passed for a scarecrow had he worn farmer’s clothes instead of vestments. Brown curly hair seemed to float in different directions as if with a will of its own.

  Gustaff touched his throat and cast a Spell of Amplification, then began a short speech. His words filled the vast interior of the cathedral.

  “Many years ago, the Emerald Throne was taken by force, and our King and Queen were murdered. But a wizard came and rescued their son, hiding him away and raising him as his own, preparing him for this very moment.

  “Today, it is my pleasure to place the crown on the rightful heir to our throne. It is my pleasure to present to you the next King of Emerald, and to lead him in his vows to the Creator as he takes his place in service to our people.

  “Prince Trant, come forth.”

  Trant opened the curtain and walked out onto the dais. He went down on one knee in front of Gustaff.

  “Prince Trant, do you swear to wear the Emerald crown in righteousness, to rule with integrity, to serve your people as their leader walking in accordance with the ways Holy Scripture instructs?”

  “I do so swear.”

  “Then by the power vested in me from the High Tower, in accordance with the Holy Edicts on sovereignty governing all those born to rule, I hereby proclaim you King, monarch over all the land and people within Emerald.”

  Gustaff picked up the crown and placed it Trant’s head.

  “You may now rise and take the throne.”

  Endrick stood and walked three steps to the throne. He turned and sat down facing the crowd.

  Gustaff said, “Milords and Ladies, friends and agents from all the realms, I present to you the son of Tren and Karla, King Trant of Emerald!”

  Thunderous applause erupted as hundreds of people stood and clapped. Through it all, Trant and Margwen smiled at one another. From the side chamber, Greystone smiled, too.

  -+-

  “It’s taken longer t’ get home than I thought.”

  Fret spoke to himself, leading the train in the first wagon. Or perhaps he spoke to the pigs who grunted their way forward, leading him ever closer to home. He had finally passed the ancient mulberry tree marking Clan Nugget’s land.

  The delays had not been due to weather or troubles on the road. Rather, every town and village, every dwarf they met, wanted to talk with them about their adventures. He knew this must have been a direct result of Tun.

  Upon delivering the letters from Dudge along with the Council’s share of the gold, Tun must have hightailed it home, spreading word along the way. The news, Fret suspected, eclipsed the speed of his carts arrival.

  “I wager ’twas old news by th’ time ’e got here!” Fret said, continuing his soliloquy.

  Of course, the news didn’t stop at the old mulberry tree. No, the entire Farmlands had heard tales of Prince Dudge and his faithful friend Fret, how they had vanquished the corrupt Rak, how the human wizard had brought back the prince from death, and how Fret fought valiantly alongside his prince, slaying those who would betray their oaths to the throne. It made for quite a tale.

  The way some of these dwarves told it, in the inns along the way, one might think they had been there, Fret thought. He also considered the fact that his exploits seemed to sound better and better the closer he came to home. Last night, the innkeeper wouldn’t take any gold for their entire party.

  “I ha’ Fret hisself as a guest! Th’ dwarf who be frien’s wi’ yuman princes an’ dwarven princes, an’ wizards as well! Tha’s paymen’ enough, I tell ye!”

  It probably did not hurt that practically everyone in the village was in the place eating and drinking, and the inn likely saw more trade that night than it had in a long, long time.

  Nonetheless, after breakfast that morning, when the innkeeper wasn’t looking, Fret placed a small bag of silver next to the inn’s money chest. It made Fret feel better. Even with the additional traffic the inn received the night before, Fret was sure the innkeeper lost money feeding all his drivers.

  Upon reflecting on his actions, another thought crossed Fret’s mind. His reputation would probably continue to grow, outrageously out of proportion to reality, once the innkeeper figured out what had happened.

  “I shoulda thought o’ that. Nay, dinna think tha’ one through. Bu’ I coul’na stay wi’ out payin’ like that.”

  His self-reflection came to an end as he heard a shout up ahead. Somebody had seen the wagon train approaching from on top of the hill before the village, and yelled down toward somebody on the other side.

  Fret said, “Now what?”

  Slowly the pigs climbed the hill. Before it reached the top, a large group of children came over from the other side, laughing and skipping and squealing.

  They sang, “It’s Fret! Fret th’ hero!”

  Fret guffawed. He said, “I dinna ken who this dwarf be. I am not th’ Fret ye speak of.”

  “Fret! Fret th’ hero! Friend o’ royalty an’ he’s from our town!”

  They danced around his wagon as the pigs crested the top of the hill, then started down the other side toward the village and the brewery.

  At the foot of the hill, every person in the village turned out to greet him. Standing near the front were the six members of the village council, and in their midst stood his mother.

  A small band had assembled (likely holding every wind instrument for miles around, Fret thought), and they started up a merry tune. The crowd cheered as his pigs trundled in. His mother Helga grinned widely at him, her chubby cheeks lit up in joy.

  Four or five village maidens beamed at him as well, with different kinds of smiles. They were almost lascivious grins, sending unmistakable non-verbal clues that proposals of matrimony would be heartily welcomed.

  The band stopped as Fret pulled up and set the wagon’s brake. He stepped down and hugged his mother. Everyone cheered. The village council leader made a short speech, praising Fret. Then he asked Fret to stay a few words.

  Color rose to Fret’s cheeks as everybody looked at him again. He cleared his throat and said, “I dinna ken wha’ t’ say. Mos’ wha’ ye’ve heard is doubtless exaggerated. Were there any heroics, ‘twere mos’ly done by Prince Dudge an’ me lads on th’ wagon train. As fer me, I’m jus’ Fret, son o’ Barley. I plan t’ get back t’ brewin’ now.”

  The crowd cheered, and he made arrangements for the gold to be stored and the pigs berthed. After shaking hands and patting backs with practically everyone in the village, his mother finally led him away.

  Helga said, “He’s had a long journey. Talk wi’ ’im tomorrow.”

&nbs
p; Everyone smiled and parted, clearing a path for them as she guided him home. When they were out of earshot from the crowd, Helga said, “We’ve ha’ some good matrimonial prospec’s lately.”

  Fret grunted and said, “One successful trip t’ Osmo, an’ they think I’m somethin’ special. Th’ hops dinna come in nex’ year, or one of a dozen other mishaps, an’ they won’ think so highly o’ me.”

  Helga smiled and said, “Y’ soun’ like yer father. Bu’ yer right. And tha’s why we ha’ t’ strike while th’ iron is hot. Th’ Council Leader and ’is daughter be comin’ fer lunch tomorrow . . .”

  She continued filling him in on her plans for choosing a wife as they walked, and Fret began to wonder if he’d ever go back to something approaching his old life again.

  20

  Kirt stood with the twins at a respectful distance to the main Coral Castle gate, watching and listening as Tempolius argued their case to the captain on duty. Over time it became increasingly obvious, at least to the boy, that the Royal Guard had no interest in Stin. Or at least no interest in producing him. They had been waiting at the gate for several hours now.

  They met Tempolius early that morning, shortly after breakfast. Bellasondra was in high spirits. Tempolius had sent word the day before that he had located Stin in the dungeon below Coral Castle.

  One would think that might be disheartening, Kirt thought, and indeed the news proved upsetting to Bellasondra. But as the morning dawned, she began to see things in a more positive light. At least they knew where he was, she said while they ate breakfast. Whatever series of events had befallen him leading to the dungeon could surely be rectified, she hoped.

  So they hitched Horse up to the cart and headed toward the castle in the center of the city, arriving at the gate early. They parked Horse under a tree shading a portion of the street nearby and waited.

  Tempolius soon showed up, asked to do all the talking and bade them wait while he approached the gate to see about getting everyone in for an audience with the prisoner.