Possessing the Grimstone (10 page)

Pim took it and pulled the warrior toward him with all of his might. He used Tolan’s body to hoist himself out of the trough, and kick Tolan in. In his hand, he gripped his sword.

Tolan pulled his face out of the trough and spit water. Pim collided with him, forcing him to the ground, holding the point of his sword to the man’s face. “Swords are not the only weapon, but I’m sure this one will cut you open, just the same,” Pim said to him.

“You have great fighting spirit, my friend,” Tolan said through a chuckle. “Continue.” He flipped Pim over onto his back, and jumped to his feet.

###

That night, Pim sat at the largest table he had ever seen. It filled the room and was laden with all manner of food and drink, baked breads, fresh fruits and vegetables, and platters of roasted meat. The aroma that hung in the air was intoxicating.

The young Wivering had never been in the midst of such splendor. He and the rest of his people now in the Warrior Guild joined the Cardoon soldiers and Northern men from Bhrungach in a great feast before battle.

Women of all ages joined their husbands, sharing in the wine and nibbles before bidding their men farewell in the morn. Some of the wives fought back tears.

In the distance, Pim heard music: soft strings and flutes, a single drum. Perfumed candles burned in all corners of the room.

Tolan took a seat beside Pim and patted him on the shoulder. He looked up the warrior; his expression was the picture of calm and stoic bravery in the face of danger. Along side Tolan, Geyess sat, then Jorrel, the commander of the armed forces.

On Pim’s other side sat Ono and Jun. From there, various Wiverings sat with their Cardoon trainers. All seemed so jovial, as if celebrating. Pim, too, was filled with a burning excitement. He was sure he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Battle awaited. In his head, visions played of him outsmarting his enemies, sailing over their awe-struck faces, and crashing down on them with righteous fury.

Across the room, on the other side of the table, sat King Endrille accompanied by many women, including his young wife. They drank and drank, cups overflowing with wine.

“Eat up, my friend,” Tolan said, sliding a plate full of meat and roasted root vegetables toward him. Tolan broke some bread from a loaf in front of him, and handed it to Pim.

“I’ve no appetite. It’s all so wondrous.” Pim’s belly churned, and his limbs tingled. His heart raced.

“I was like you before my first battle, too, but you must eat. It’s important to keep up your strength for the morning. Besides, one never knows when it will be our last meal.” He slapped Pim on the back, again.

Pim gulped, and then sucked in some air.
Is that true? Could this be the
last thing I ever see?
He pulled the bread apart and devoured it before starting in on the meat and vegetables.

Pulling a goblet toward him, he drank something he’d never tasted before. It was a tart, sweet nectar that went down smooth, and made his insides feel warm. It was amazing.

“That a boy,” Tolan laughed. “That will curl the toes of those amazing feet of yours. May they guide you to victory.” He pulled up a goblet of his own, and clinked it against Pim’s.

Pim almost dropped his own cup as a trickle of burgundy seeped down his chin. He grinned, then ate, and drank… and drank some more.

The King bellowed and laughed; the music wafted through the air; the room grew thick with steam and tobacco smoke. Pim absorbed it all. This was more than he ever expected to see outside of Gonnish. The rest of Athora amazed him at every turn. He knew why they must fight. How could they let any foreign kingdom take all of this away from them?

Pim looked around at all of his friends from Gonnish, as well as his new friends, the taller, stronger Cardoon soldiers, the gallant Tolan, and his best friend, Geyess. He was ready. Tomorrow, he embraced fate. Tomorrow, he made a difference to Athora. How proud would his parents be of him? The thought made him glow.

Chapter Seven

The dusty light of early dawn filled the Cardoon courtyard. Milky curtains of the sun’s rays gathered around fountains, glittering over the surface of the water.

The sky glowed with hues of scarlet and pale indigo. The air was cool, and smelled of wild mint and roses. Olani gathered her strength and flowing robes, and strolled across the courtyard.

She crept through cobblestone streets and listened to dripping gutters filling rain barrels. A cat meowed near her, but she couldn’t find it.

The black spires grew closer as she hurried toward them, despite the gnawing pain in her belly. Her legs felt weak, but she pushed herself on.

In the distance, Olani noticed some of the council members, white hair glinting in the sunlight, gathered around stone pillars under a great arch. Nachin was among them. He was in deep conversation with the old men. She wanted to know what they were discussing, and why it wasn’t with her, but she was almost at the spires, and she only had enough strength for one trip.

She pushed their clandestine meeting to the back of her mind, telling herself that she would address it with Nachin at a later time. The stairs to the first spire appeared at her feet. Olani looked up, and ascended.

Sooth-Malesh’s door was closed, but when Olani lifted a hand to knock, it creaked open.

She crossed the threshold to the darkened chamber. “Hello?”

Candles flickered to life around the room, and Sooth-Malesh appeared in a chair within a halo of glowing light. “Young lady, why do you come to disturb me? I am trying to seeour enemies.”

“That is precisely why I am here. I know that you can do much more than just spy on them. Think what it would mean to all of the kingdoms to have an actual battle mage behind them. The strength it would give them would be immeasurable.”

He looked up from his crystals. “Have we not had this discussion already? Does your memory fail you, due to your illness?”

Illness. She was almost embarrassed that her symptoms were that obvious. She thought she hid them well, remaining brave in the face of pain. Then she remembered he was a mage: of course he saw her illness. She held her head high.

“It was a conversation left unfinished. Search inside you. The magic is waiting to return, to join the fight. Do not others define your worth.”

“From your very lips. You should heed your own advice.”

“Again with this? Illness casts its shadow on me. It chose me, I did not choose it.”

“It wasn’t the illness that chose you.”

“Do you always speak in riddles?”

“Only to those who refuse to hear.”

“I prefer to speak directly. Your world needs you, and you have the power in you. Exercise it.”

“Who are you to tell me, Sooth-Malesh, arch mage of Cardoon, how and when to wield my power?” All candle flames in the room surged with a hiss, reaching the cathedral ceiling of the tower.

Olani smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

He looked at her with wonder, and then at the room, studying the candles.

“Show me more…” Olani begged.

“I-I c-can’t… it’s a fluke. A burst in the fit of outrage. I-I…”

“The arch mage of Cardoon, indeed.” Olani turned for the doorway, and the door slammed shut before she reached it.

Sooth-Malesh stepped out of his chair and walked to Olani’s side. “You don’t know what you’re toying with, young lady.”

“I believe I do. And so do you. You can do it. Show me.”

He turned to the candle in the corner of the room. Lifting a trembling hand, he pointed at the candle sitting high on its twisted pedestal. The mage snapped his fingers, and the candle’s flames danced and shot into the air. The fire soared across the room and into the mage’s hands. He redirected the fire behind him, increasing it in volume; it licked at the tapestry on the wall.

Then the tapestry ignited into flames. The smell of soot filled the room. The fire grew, glowing red-orange.

“Put it out!” Olani said with some concern.

“I can’t!” Sooth-Malesh gestured to the burning tapestry, but nothing happened.

Olani ran over to it, grabbing a dusty robe from a vacant chair. Sooth-Malesh followed quickly behind her.

She patted the flames out with the robe until nothing but a trickle of black smoke remained. The tapestry was scorched. She turned to Sooth-Malesh and laughed.

He shook his head and sighed, then he, too, laughed, the soundechoing throughout the chamber.

###

Trumpets blared across every city wall. Pim stared in awe at the great army around him. Thousands of Cardoon men were dressed in their best armor with tones of sliver, emerald, and copper, highlighted with ruby hues, helmets adorned with tassels and plumes, all brandishing their finest weapons, from swords and maces, to halberds and axes.

There were foot soldiers and cavalry as far as the eye could see, and they easily outnumbered what was left of the Northern men of Bhrungach. Pim thought of the Lady of the Council, and pity filled his heart.

Tolan mounted a steed by Pim’s side, and unsheathed a bastard sword. “This was my father’s sword,” he told Pim. “He slew many invaders with this blade. I pray that it swings true now, and strikes fear in these new invaders.”

“By Thet, I’m sure it will.” Pim smiled up at him, and turned. Ono was coming toward him.

“I threw up, again.”

“Ono, calm your nerves. We are among the greatest army in Athora.”

“That changes nothing. Who knows what creatures lie waiting for us?”

“They will taste our might, and wish they’d never come through the misty cloud wall to our shores.”

“Pim… I’m scar…”

The city gates opened, and the trumpets sounded again. The army moved, and Pim walked with his Wivering brothers to the outside. The traders and sellers cleared out, the farmers hurried their livestock away.

Black clouds covered the sky on the horizon.

As soon as they were through the gates, Pim saw the army from the South riding through Cardoon’s outer reaches. Their horses pulled war wagons on two wheels: wagons armed with spears and shields. The people were painted in various colors, but the most vivid of them was their leader, Drith. He was covered with bright yellow and striking black. His armor resembled turtle shells, and was decorated with the red feathers of the phoenix-tail bird, a creature indigenous to his land. He looked proud, with his warriors behind him, sporting black feathers. Behind them, banners beared their symbol: the sun encircled in flames.

Pim then noticed Cardoon’s banners, with the symbol of the black spires with the King’s crown above them. Sadly, he could find no banners for the city of Bhrungach.

Moments later, the mysterious people of Gwythroth, tall and nearly gliding, moved across the land. In the blink of an eye, they vanished and reappeared at the city’s gates. They bowed to Tolan, Geyess, and Jorrel, who now stood at the head of the gathering of armies.

Pim could not have been prouder to be part of this moment in history. He couldn’t wait to use his fleet to save the world.

“The Wivering should save their fleet for the battle,” Jorrel said. “Let them ride in our wagons, and in any the South may spare.”

Tolan approached Pim. “I promised your parents for your safe return. Ride with me.”

“I am not a child any longer.”

“Yes, yes, you are a brave and courageous man. Still, you are riding with me.” Tolan extended his arm, and Pim took it, climbing onto the back of the horse.

The warrior got on his nerves sometimes, treating him like a child and questioning his every decision. He knew Tolan didn’t think he was ready for this, but what choice was there? Every last person in Athora had to do their part. Pim only wanted to be a part of it.

“I am sorry I could not train you longer, lad,” Tolan said to him. “It is not just to send you and your people into the midst of war. Becoming a warrior takes time and patience. But it is time we do not have. For this, I apologize.”

“Months would not make a difference,” Pim said. “At some point, one must fight, be it for the land, the people, or his very life.”

“In mere moments, you have become as wise as Sooth-Malesh.” A smile drew on his lips, but quickly faded, as his eyes dimmed. “War does not make one a man. Someday, however, you will see there are other ways to bring peace rather than fighting. Today is not that day.”

“You sound like my father… amusing, because you look nothing like him.”

Tolan laughed.

“Do not worry, Warrior. I do not blame you for my part in this war. I understand your king sent you to seek every last man you could find, but in our village, your call to arms was true. Did you not think we would answer?”

“I knew the Wivering would do the right thing and I remember my call well. I will carry that day for as long as I live, which may not be very long.”

The trumpets blared one last time, and the army moved out.

“Not long at all.” Tolan tried to whisper, but Pim heard him just fine.

###

Drith steered his wagon slowly, his brother walking beside it. Drith leaned over to him.

“Remember,” Gyrn said. “Watch for signs of this remarkable stone piece. It can deliver all of your people to the world they deserve”

“My eyes are sharp, Brother.”

“May the flames of our land protect you. Let as many Northerners fall as possible; the fewest who return, the better.”

“The better for us all. I will exert no aid to them. Our people come first.”

Gyrn nodded as Drith pulled away from him, leading his army to join Cardoon, the Wivering, and the Northern men.

###

Olani watched the grand army march off from her balcony. She couldn’t help but worry for them. She knew all too well the hell these monstrous invaders were capable of. The terror they unleashed upon her people and homeland had left its mark.

The warrior, Tolan, was in her thoughts; his selflessness and brave heart was admirable. She prayed to Thet on his safe return. In the distant sky, she saw the black clouds. It was a scourge on the world, a curse, a blight. Perhaps that was why she had grown ill lately, and why this illness came back each time she fought it off.