A Time for Revenge

Mach slipped out of the Sea Fairer Inn without anyone noticing. The cool night air had brought a thin mist, the light of the Soul moon brightening the world around him with a purple hue as if he had entered another realm.

A breeze blew through the road, a gentle whisper in the night. He closed his eyes and listened, waiting for the call he knew would come. A gentle rise in Power alerted him to the nearby presence. He snapped his eyes open to see a figure standing several houses away. Its form was wraith like, spectral in the purple glow of the light above. In the darkness he could not see much of what was present, but within the glow from above he could surmise that he was facing a Mage. The Power he felt radiated from the form, gently rising and falling as if it were its very breath.

It stood there staring at him, the cloak that was wrapped around it waving in the breeze. “Derune…” That one word was spoken, whispered from the mystic form ahead. It turned away, taking two steps before turning its head back, “Follow.”. Resuming its walk, Mach followed without hesitation. There was a feeling of connection that he felt from this entity, a feeling that he had felt once before. It transcended everything that he had felt when he had met the Mages of Juiint. If this was a spirit, it was not merely a simple Mage.

He followed it through the street, recognizing the path that it was taking him. The ruins of his home lay ahead, the memories of that day flashed through his mind with each step he took toward it. Those images as fresh as if the attack had been yesterday. His heart raced once again in fear as he was reminded how terribly fragile his life had been in those days, how close to death he had been.

The form entered Mach’s home, not through a wall as he would have expected a ghast or ghost to do, but through where the door had once been. Stopping only long enough to make sure that he was following. Taking care not to slip or trip on the rubble, he climbed over the debris of his wrecked life. The darkness within his home was complete despite the hole filled and half crumbling structure. Carefully he reached to his side and drew the King’s Blade from its sheath. Focusing his Power first within than forcing it out through the Blade, he let his emotions fuel the enchantment as he had done so many times before. Gentle white flames ignited along the length of the King’s Blade, illuminating the darkness and showing him what it was that had hidden itself within that blackness.

Ten figures surrounded him, each one wore robes similar to those of the Mages from Juiint, each one with their hoods raised blocking their faces from the light. But within that darkness, within the hoods he could see the ghostly silver eyes staring out to him, eyes that were the mark of the Mage race.

“Derune…” One of the figures stepped forward, the word sounding as if it had come from it. As each word came, another form took a step forward one by one, “Our… legacy… lays… within… we… who… guard… that… which… is… sacred… protect… that… which… only… blood.. . may… retrieve…”

He was surrounded, the entities were an arm’s reach away from him but he could not move to defend himself. He felt no malice from them, no anger. If he had to explain what he sensed, it was acceptance. Our legacy that lays within? Which only blood may retrieve? A sudden pulsing drew his attention away from those around him. He reached within his own cloak and pulled out the two Stones that were still in his possession. The Stone of Life and the Stone of Death pulsed gently, their light a gentle flare next to the light coming from his Blade. He glanced up to find himself alone. The darkness that had been was gone, the purple hue off the moon of Souls illuminated the wreckage of his home and the damage that had come from the fires. He let the Power fade from the King’s Blade and sheathed it. That was when he felt a gentle tug, a pull of Power that was just out of sight. It pulsated in time with the two Stones he held in his hands.

He replaced the Stones in his cloak and hurried to the spot from his dream, clambering over the rubble and debris as he went. His mother’s room was just beyond the kitchen, right at the back of the house. As he slipped through the half fallen doorframe, he entered her room to discover the extent of the damage. The top floor had fallen in at the corner, the rubble pilling up to open sky. Burnt lumber lay across the frame of what had been her bed. A gift that his father had gotten her shortly after Mach had been born.

He wrestled the rubble off of the frame and stood there for a moment, staring at what had been his life with memories of old times flashing through his mind. He shook his head and focused on what needed to be done. As he lifted the edge of the bed to flip it over, whispers rose up through a small opening that had revealed itself under the frame. He tossed the frame over and quickly lowered himself down. Once again the whispers rose, becoming more coherent as he found footing within a cavern. “Our… legacy… lays… within… we… who… guard… that… which… is… sacred… protect… that… which… only… blood... may… retrieve…”

He had reached for his sword when the light from the hole above him went black. The voices slowly increased in volume. Just as it had before, each word came with a different voice, “Derune… Family… Heir… Oaths… Sworn… Oaths… Kept… We… Who… Lived… Here… We… Who… Guard… Our… Home… We… Who… Are… Descendant… Of… Derune…” A low purple light flared from up ahead, its soft light barely illuminating the passage. But in the pure darkness it was a beacon of pure light. He moved forward carefully, taking each step with caution. The voices repeated the words, each voice speaking the same word as it had before.

With each step he took, the light began to pulse in time with the beating of the Stones in his cloak. He could feel the warmth of their pulsing against his chest. The tunnel opened to a small room, carved out from the stone and clay of the earth. On the back wall was a pedestal extending out from the wall, cradled in a dip in the stone was an orb exactly like the two he had. Deep purple in color, this Stone was unlike the others that he had read about or seen. They had all the Stones save one, the Stone of Sight. That Stone was supposed to be clear, almost see through. But this Stone was as colorful and mysterious as the Moon of Souls in the sky above.

“See the truth.” A harmony of voices sounded around him. He turned sharply to see that he was no longer alone. Standing around him were the figures he had seen upstairs in his house. Their hoods were lowered and now he could see familiar faces.

“Grandad!” He all but squealed at seeing a man he had not seen since he was only two. His only memories were vague recollections when viewing pictures that had been made of him. His silver eyes and black hair so much like his father’s, it was easy to see where his dad got his looks from. Around him, the others had the same silver grey eyes and black hair, each one had features that made it easy to tell that they were all related.

The voices came again as one, but this time he was able to pick out his grandfather’s among the choir. “We swore an oath to protect this sacred item. We who have guarded this with our lives have done so knowing that there would be a day when our protection would no longer be needed. When King Derune founded this town, he first built this alter to hide the first Stone. When he completed his mission, and returned home, he set into place a spell that would bind any heir to the Staff of Kings when they leave the physical world so long as they swear the oath. We have done so to protect this Stone from all of the races. King Derune knew that one day someone would seek the Power of these Stones. There would be no denying that they existed. To keep the world safe, to make sure that our people had a chance, he hid the eighth Stone and all knowledge of it. Along with the item that had been crafted to harness the Power of those Stones. The Stone of Souls, the guiding light of the eight who came to Nedmere, sits before you. Its Power wields control over the other seven, balancing their strength to the user. But the Staff of Kings, a relic of the end of King Feirdain’s reign and the rise of King Derune, allows the focus of control needed for the safe use of the Stones Power. Together, the two can protect our people against those who would destroy our ways. To take this Stone, you must truly be willing to protect those that you call your people. You must be willing to use everything in your Power to protect those that rely on your Power. You must be willing to be a true King.”

Mach looked behind him at the soft glowing orb. This was not the first time that he had faced an ordeal like this. He must be willing to be a true King? He thought back to the oaths that he had sworn during his coronation and those oaths that he had sworn afterwards. To protect those who rely on my Power? There was no question about that. Although his personal goal was to end Rubious’ life, every person that followed him, every man, woman and child who had a family member or a friend within his ranks, they were his people now. He knew now how it must have felt for King Feirdain in those stories he had read in Juiint. His race was scattered throughout the Five Empires, and though each Kingdom had its own ruler, he felt that so long as his people were among them he was responsible for them as well. Mach felt like that now.

The people who followed him now, those warriors and fighters who were willing to put their lives on the line beside his to end Rubious’ reign. Their families and friends were his responsibility just as much as the Mages.

He looked back and found that he was alone once again. The whispers had faded, the sound of the wind could be heard from the far end of the tunnel. He could smell rain in the air as a breath of wind found its way down the hole. He turned back and the pedestal was gone. Laying on a simple metal rack, was a wooden staff. Its handle was as straight as one would expect, but the tip had a half dozen strands of wood that curled and wrapped around each other, circular notches had been carved into the strands. Eight notches in total and within the eighth notch, the notch that lay at the tip, lay embedded the purple Stone of Souls.

He reached out and gripped the staff with both hands, closing his eyes as he did. He had come here to find a weapon to end Rubious and he had found much more than he had ever hoped for. He found hope, he found a future for himself. The people here, a family that he had not realized that he still had was waiting for him to return after his quest was done. Their love for him, their faith in him, gave him the strength to shed of the fear and uncertainty that was within him.

He would be able to move forward from his home and return to the tasks at hand with a lighter heart. He would face Rubious knowing that he had family to return to, he had a life worth fighting for. He would fight for them, fight to return to them. And now, he had a gift from his family, from his ancestors. A means of control to a Power that would enable him to survive his encounter with Rubious. If they wanted another oath from him, he would give it gladly. ”I will protect those that need my strength, those that have no way to defend themselves, I will be their shield and sword. Those that cower from the darkness, I will be their morning light, illuminating the shadows. My Power, my strength, my sword, these are what I offer the people.”

He lifted the staff from its brackets and felt no resistance. In that one moment he felt power sweep through him, a tantalizing feel of what lay within this eighth Stone. A crash of thunder rattled the earth above him and the sound of rain falling hard came to his ears. He clambered his way back through the tunnel and up out of the hole and back into the living area of his old home. Rubious had attacked this place looking for one of the Stones of Magic. He had destroyed everyone’s lives here in this quiet town just for the chance on retrieving this item. But now here Mach stood, the Staff and Stone in hand.

He left the ruins of his home and marched through the rain, uncaring that he was drenched. He took a seat at the table that had once been his father’s favorite, a fire was already burning in a fireplace nearby. As he warmed himself, he sat staring at the Staff and Stone. This was the heritage of his family, something far more precious than the title that he had gained when he had visited Juiint.

He was not sure how long it had been since he had returned to the Inn. But as the light brightened outside and people began moving about the meal hall he knew that breakfast would soon be made. There were curious glances toward him, his clothing still the same as it had been the day before, his hair an untidy mess. And the Staff that laid across his lap was the real focus of everyone’s attention.

“What in the name of all that is Holy is that?” Mendoll’s eyes widened in surprise and uncertainty. Without bothering to ask, the Adept Mage reached out for the Staff and hovered his hand over it, closing his eyes and concentrating. “Where did you find this?”

“It is a family heirloom.” He answered plainly. “Nedmere left here under the protection of his bloodline.”

“But this can’t be,” the Adept stuttered, “I mean, this isn’t the Stone of Sight, is it?”

“No it’s not.” The memories of how the Stones came to Nedmere flashed before his mind and he could not believe that he had overlooked the facts of what he had seen so many times before. “There are not seven Stones, Mendoll. It was never only seven. I was told that this is the Stone of Souls, it is the key to safely controlling the Power of the Stones. It is why Feirdain had even attempted to use them during the Great War.”

“And the Staff?” Mendoll asked as he sat down on the bench across from Mach. “I don’t remember anything about it while reading through the tomes in Juiint?”

“It was crafted for King Feirdain, specifically so that he could use the Power of the Stones safely. It focuses the Power in some way. This is what I was summoned here to get, this could be our key to ending Rubious’ war quickly. That is if we can just find him. Still no clue based on what I described?”

The adept sighed wearily. “I have gone over the details with every person I can think of, there is just nothing that we can think of that fits your descriptions. It sounds familiar, like I should know it by heart, but I just cannot remember it.”

He had been sure that the others would have been able to figure it out by now. “Well, all we can do is continue the search for him and the last Stone. Maybe if we can find that last one, it will give us some insight into where he is.”

There was just one last Stone that they needed, if anything, it would be that Stone that would lead them to where Rubious was. It was only a matter of finding it. Its last known whereabouts had come from a journal in Juiint, where Nedmere had left descriptive notes on how to find them if the need should arise. Mendoll had studied those notes with extreme care and he had been confident in his knowledge of where each and every one of them was. Other than that one Stone, every other one had been exactly where it had been described. When they had arrived at the location of the Stone of Sight, the Guardians of that Stone had knowledge of it and had admitted it had once been there. Unfortunately it had been stolen several years before.

Whoever had it now was keeping a low profile. There was no rumor or legend that could be heard that could be attributed to such Power. So whoever had it was not using it for control and Power. Here in a few days he would return to Gehnith and he would continue the search for both the Stone and for Rubious. Once he had the location of either one, he would be on the move again. The time to end this ordeal was coming closer with every day that passed and this time he would be ready for it.