Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands (6 page)

“This is home,” Jon said, proudly walking back down the stairs
after igniting one final lantern that hung from the centre of the ceiling.

“I love it!” exclaimed Télia, looking around in fascination and
delight. “It’s so different, and cosy.”

Jon chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. Do not hesitate to make
yourself at home, in whatever way that means for you. I imagine you will be
staying a short while.”

Aldrick wondered how long he meant.

Jon looked upon him with caring eyes. “Oh, Aldrick, you look so
much like…” he paused momentarily, “like I remember you.” He clapped his hands
together. “Well now, let us relax, refresh ourselves and afterwards I shall see
to supper. When our stomachs are full we will discuss much. Yes, indeed we shall!”
He spoke with lofty spirits. This was how Aldrick remembered him—always acting
in a manner that offset any seriousness there was. Never had he seen Jon’s face
grim. Since their last meeting, he had aged well. No more wrinkles had appeared
on his face nor silver hairs upon his head; perhaps because they had always
been silver. How very strange it was to be looking upon someone he had known
all his life and only now knew was a wielder. Aldrick still saw no obvious
clues that Jon was. Save for his mane of hair, he appeared nothing like the
images Aldrick had in his mind of how one might—clad in grand robes,
brandishing a magical wand. Jon was still the same quirky old man from the
mountains.

After a short rest and cup of tea that was accompanied by idle
talk, Jon left to fetch meat and potatoes to roast for dinner. Aldrick and
Télia were left sitting in the living room. The fire had been lit and was a
hypnotic dance of yellow flames upon the hearth. Although the mood was restful,
Aldrick readily anticipated the conversation that approached. He would at last
know why he was hunted. Why, after so long living a simple life, he was
suddenly fleeing from death, having to take life to preserve his own. He had an
uncanny feeling that this fate had always been pursuing him and he yearned to
know where it would lead him from here.

Dinner came late but was plentiful. Jon had cooked more than
enough for them all. The mutton and potatoes were roasted to perfection and
accompanied by boiled vegetables and thick, nourishing gravy. They ate in
silence, subdued by both keen appetites and a squall of thoughts. Outside, the
mountainous world was at rest, lulled by the soft sound of the falling clouds.

When they had finished eating, Aldrick took it upon himself to
break the silence.

“Sooo, here we are…” he started.

Jon sat back in his seat and made himself comfortable. “Yes, here
we are. You have come a long way and I think it is about time you had some
burning questions answered.”

Aldrick waited breathlessly for him to continue.

Jon stroked his beard thoughtfully for some time. His natural soft
smile had faded from his face. “As you are no doubt already aware, Aldrick, a
certain wielder named Selayna has decided that she doesn’t want you around. You
have already encountered more than one of her servants. They travelled far to
find you. You wonder why, yes? Well, first you must know some things about your
birth parents… I knew them both well. Their names were Isobel and Gilthred.” Jon
looked away. His eyes glinted. “Aldrick, the things I am about to tell you are
no ordinary things. I’m sure you won’t find them easily acceptable as truth.
However, they are. I have little reason to keep anything from you now.” He took
a deep breath. “Your parents were wielders. They were great wielders, some of
the very greatest, in fact.”

Aldrick’s mind ground to a halt. “They… what?”

Jon lent forward. “Their son was a wielder too. Aldrick,
you
are a wielder.”

What again? No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t a wielder! “No, I’m
not a wielder, Jon. You must be confused. I’m just… ordinary… I am!” He looked
at Télia for some kind of reassurance, but it appeared that this had not been
news to her.

“I’m quite sure you are, my dear boy!” cried Jon. “As sure as the
mountains rise you are. And that’s just the beginning of it!”

His mouth hung half open. “H… how am I a wielder?”

“How? Well, because your parents were, obviously! Wielders do not
bear humans. You are as much a human as you are a rabbit.”

“How is it that I know nothing of this, then?!”

“Because you have not been told. Well, at least not until now.”

This conversation was impossible. Aldrick was only just becoming
accustomed to living in a world where wielders existed. Being one himself was a
whole different story. Surely he had been grievously misinformed. He shook his
head fervently. He was on his feet, tense. “It’s not true!”

“Aldrick, be calm,” Télia said gently. “I knew this myself, but it
was news that needed to come to you from one more understanding and
knowledgeable than myself. Jon is very wise. Heed his words.”

Jon chuckled. “Wise? I don’t consider myself as such. I’m just
old, far too old… now where was I?” He pondered. “Ah yes, I know where I was.
You are a wielder, my boy, as were your parents! Now your parents, Aldrick,
they were very special. When I said that they were some of the greatest
wielders, I referred not only to their noble characters but also to their
stormpowers. Storm, of course, is the term given to the magic we possess. We
are wielders of the storm. Many folk may simply refer to us as wizards or
sorcerers, but wielder is the preferred title.

“Your parents were able to wield their stormpowers in unique and
exceptional ways. Your father, Gilthred, could influence the weather—turn the
rain to sun and the wind into a weapon.” Jon paused again, seemingly adrift in
an ocean of memories. “And your mother, she could do something quite
extraordinary. She could drain another wielder’s storm from them. It was an
ability feared by many.” He looked upon Aldrick with grave eyes. “Aldrick, you
are hunted because you are feared too, because you also have this ability.”

Aldrick fell back to a seated position. Jon’s words continued to
numb his mind. How was any of this true? How had it been kept from him for so
long? Since being swept away on this journey he had not even entertained the
possibility of such truths being revealed. He had expected more trivial
explanations for the attempts on his life. Perhaps they came as revenge for
unpaid debts his parents owed to Selayna or something of the like. Never could
he have foreseen that it was he who was considered a threat.

Télia came to him with a mug of water from the kitchen and placed
it in his hands.

“The look on your face tells me many of your thoughts,” she said,
studying him. “Thoughts I am sure will take time to rationalise.”

“Rationalise? None of this has a place in the realm of the
rational!” he exclaimed. “Wizards, or wielders, as they are called—I was so
used to imagining them in stories of old and distant lands. I never imagined
they were a part of my own life. Jon, my parents… me? I am one of them?” He
stared blankly forward, shaking his head at every impossible notion.

Télia sat beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Just
remember that nothing Jon or I tell you changes who you are. I know that sounds
foolish but it’s true. The whole ground doesn’t disappear beneath your feet.
You are the same person you have always been. Only, there is more to your
story. Everyone you know, including me now, is ever willing to find your head
upon their shoulders. I am your aera, Aldrick. I remain here—at your side.”

Her words were kind and calming, though not nearly calming enough.
Aldrick managed a faint smile of appreciation before his mind caved in to the
weight of his thoughts once more.

“I will continue, if that is all right,” said Jon, who had been
observing him mindfully. “I understand that what I have said is difficult to
accept, Aldrick, I do, but there is much more that needs telling, and there is
no better time than now, with food in our bellies and the rain falling outside,
to tell it.”

Aldrick took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”

“Excellent! But wait… I have lost myself yet again.” Jon squinted
down at the floor, stroking his beard. “Ah yes! You have the abilities your
parents did! That is why Selayna wants you dead.” His eyes widened. “Oh, but
no. Selayna is not the one who wants you dead. Oh no. No, no, no! She does the
bidding of another.” He looked upon them gravely. “There is another who wishes
your demise, one whom your parents knew well—Selayna’s brother. His name is
Malath.”

Aldrick heard Télia gasp beside him. Cold radiated from her. There
ensued a deathly silence in which only the faint flicker of flames and
occasional crack of heated wood could be heard from the hearth.

“Malath is also a wielder?” Aldrick asked finally. “My parents
knew him?”

“They did, only too well.” Jon waved his hand aggressively and the
fire roared, brightening the room and vanquishing the chill in the air. Aldrick
stared. “He was their friend—a valued member of the wielding community. Malath
Jayther, the great and damned foolish!” Jon’s pacing quickened. Anger fuelled
his steps. “Your parents trusted him with their lives, as anyone might have. No
one had ever heard of such a distinguished wielder turning so foul. Arrogant—yes,
but sour, bitter and resentful? No. No, Malath was one of a kind, a
well-privileged idiot!” Jon halted and turned to Aldrick. “He led your parents
to their doom.”

Aldrick swallowed. He had often wondered about his parents of
late, but only now did he realise that hearing their story inevitably meant
learning how they died.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

Jon seated himself in an armchair by the fire.

“This all began many years ago,” he started. “Gilthred, Isobel and
Malath were scholars of Delthendra—the wielder’s lyceum in Galdrem, a place
Télia is familiar with I’m sure.” Télia nodded. “Well, that is where they came
to know each other. They were each very wise and astute, but Malath was more
powerful, as was he ambitious. As a young man the Synod adopted him and—”

“Wait… the Synod?”

“The Synod is an order of ‘highly esteemed’ wielders in Galdrem. I
was once associated with them myself.”

Aldrick could tell Jon held no high opinion of them. “I see.”

“As I was saying, they adopted Malath and installed him as
chancellor of Delthendra. This gave him great power and position over not only
novice wielders, but humans alike.” Jon leaned forward. “You see, Aldrick,
wielders once stood above humans. It is a common belief that our storm
comprises half of our very being, but back then many claimed it to be the
superior half.

“So, Malath being promoted to chancellor meant that he suddenly
had command over a vast majority of the peoples in the land. He even held sway
over the high council. They were advised to follow his guidance on all matters
of social and political discourse. The system was egregiously flawed. All the
time though, it was the elder wielders of the Synod who pulled Malath’s
strings.

“In following years they became more accepting of humans’ rightful
place as equals among them. They sought a democratic society, a peaceful one.
But as much as their arrogance lessened, Malath’s grew. He feared that these
new ways of thinking would threaten his position as chancellor. Resentment grew
in him, a dark fire that could not be doused. Madness took hold. Members of the
Synod began to disappear inexplicably. Common folk were found dead in the
streets, murdered by storm.

“Your parents soon realised that Malath was responsible for this,
along with Selayna and his ever faithful, brainwashed scholars. Though it was
hard for them to accept, he had become an unspeakable force of evil. Like
themselves, he possessed a unique ability no other wielder did. He could defy
death, manipulate it… reverse it. He threatened to use this to ‘cleanse’ the
Narathlands of the filth of humanity.

“He planned to venture to Darkna—a hallowed temple of old which
stands at the edge of the legendary Vuldenfar Chasm. There, a great power
exists that would greatly strengthen his storm, allowing him to resurrect an
entire army of ancient warriors from the Life Afterwards to carry out his
murderous intent.

“Your parents knew they needed to act, but knew also that it would
be futile to confront Malath on a level battleground. In his madness, his
powers had been rendered ever stronger than before. Their options were few.”

Jon raised a finger. “But, as fortune might have it, some months earlier
Gilthred had stumbled across an invaluable object while on a scholarly
expedition in the west—a peculiar stone, one with a profound attribute. It
could hold storm within it. They discovered this when Isobel practised her
sapping ability on Gilthred while holding the stone in hand. Typically, his
storm would soon have returned to him, but this time it did not. It had been
absorbed into the stone. For days they tried to retrieve it, but to no avail.
The stone was of the hardest material known to them and could not be
penetrated.

“For a time they attempted to conceal the fact that Gilthred’s
storm was lost to him, but inevitably this was exposed, though no one was able
to offer a plausible explanation nor a solution. Not even the eldest and wisest
of the Synod could unravel the stone’s mystery.