The Stones of Magic

  Chapter 17

  Mach's mind seemed to flow between reality and dream. Between realistic hallucinations and incomplete scenes of what was truly happening. No matter where his mind was, one thing remained constant…pain. Pain from the wound he had in his shoulder, though he could not remember when or where he had received it. He should have been looking for his mother instead of... That thought ended in nothingness and he could not seem to remember where he was supposed to have been.

  Several times he thought he had awakened only to find himself in another absurd dream. Other times, he thought he was dreaming only to realize that it was real in time for him to fall asleep once again. There were times when he would wake to find either Sehto or Miatsu sitting by his side. He knew who they were, but could not seem to remember from where or for how long he had known any of them. The gentle rocking and bobbing of his bed was enough for him to realize he was on a ship, at the very least he was able to recall what that felt like. The sailors' lullaby.

  At first, he thought maybe he had died from the wound he had sustained from... Rubious, was it? Yes, it was someone named Rubious. However, every time the pain set in, he realized that he was still alive. If he had died, surely Hell would be less painful than this.

  He awoke to the sound of a cabin door opening. He kept his eyes closed for a moment as he heard several bodies walk into his room. The scraping of chairs told him that the visitors had seated themselves at the end of his bed.

  “So where are you guys heading now? Didn’t you say that there were seven of these Stones?” He heard a familiar man’s voice speaking.

  “Indeed, legend says that there are seven,” He heard… The voice was old and familiar to him and it took a moment to think who it belonged to. He sounded a little worn down and tired. “The map does only show the location of four of them and at the moment, I have no idea where the other three are. We need information and supplies.”

  “I want to go back to Selane,” Mach suddenly spoke up with his eyes still closed, startling the others. Memories of the last few weeks flowed back to him as he steadied his mind. It was apparent that they had not thought he was awake. “I've spent too much time with you guys. I need to stop relying on others to look for her and find her myself.” He opened his eyes and stared right at the old man in white robes.

  Now that his mind was clearing he recognized each voice and when Mendoll spoke again he could hear the concern in the old Mage’s tone. “Well, the kind of information and supplies I am talking about is going to be much more than any of these villages are going to be able to provide. I was thinking of returning to the capital, actually. There I can talk to our king and request supplies and men. Perhaps even a new ship or two. I think we were identified when we left port. There is going to be a good chance that someone there recognized us and will report it to Rubious whenever he is capable of receiving reports. If that is the case, we are going to need much more than we have right now. And I guarantee that Rubious will want to take his revenge on us.”

  “That sounds like the best plan we have right now,” Sehto said. “There's a small port across the way from Selane used for quick transport to the northern section. We could drop Mach off and then just jump to the port. From there you can head almost directly to the capital.”

  “I have to find her before something happens to her.” Pain shot through his shoulder as he tried to move. Tears burned in his eyes that were caused by both the very real possibility of the death of his mother and the pain from his injuries. He reached up to his shoulder and placed his hand on the bandages. Thick as the bandages were, when he pulled his hand away, it was covered in blood.

  He looked at Mendoll questioningly. He knew there was fear and worry in the Mage's eyes but he did not care. He needed to know what had been happening while he had been unconscious. “I have done everything I can think of. Every spell that I ever learned has been useless in closing that wound.” Mendoll answered. “Internally, you are fine. Everything is healed, it is just the flash wound that won’t heal.” There was something in the Mage's voice that screamed of the torment that was eating away at him. It was clear that his skills had never failed him like this before.

  “I have an idea, Mach,” Sehto said, leaning toward him. “I've already explained it to Mendoll and he thinks that it may work. The reason he hasn't tried it yet is that it will be more painful than anything you've ever experienced in your life.”

  The Healing Adept looked deeply into Mach's eyes for a few moments before answering. “I do. As far as I know, it has never been done, but I think the theory behind it is solid enough. Especially since your wound is only external.”

  “Do you want me to explain it to you?” Sehto asked.

  He shook his head. “No, just do it. Let’s just get it over with quickly. I need to be ready for anything and I can’t be weakened by a wound that won’t close.”

  Mendoll got to his feet. “Alright then, Miatsu, go to my room and get the herbs on my nightstand. There is only so much that I will be able to do for the pain.”

  Sehto had risen from his seat and was already removing the bandages. “Remember what I said, old man. I think you'll have to mix the two.”

  When Sehto succeeded in removing the bandages, blood dribbled in a thin stream down his chest and back, marking the sheets that he lay on deep red. Miatsu returned a moment later with a handful of broad-leafed herbs in his tiny hands.

  “Rip those up into pieces as small as you can get them and put them into the wound itself. Give him a whole one to suck on.” Mendoll ordered. As Sehto gave Mach the leaf, Mendoll stepped up to his bedside. The leaf tasted minty with a hint of sourness, like his mother's remedy for the aches associated with the common cold.

  The effect was almost instant. Though it did not take away all the pain, or even a quarter of it, there was a definite decrease. After a few moments, however, the burning pain subsided to a dull throbbing that he was only mildly aware of, allowing him to shift his attention to the healing process. Mendoll stood beside him, his eyes closed and muttering words Mach could not understand. He could feel something stirring within Mendoll as Sehto pulled his dagger from his belt and began cleaning it with a rag. What in the hell are they going to do to me? He watched apprehensively as the two men continued with the preparations that made no sense to him. He began to think that perhaps he should have let them tell him what was going to happen after all.

  Sehto began ripping the herbs to tiny pieces, placing some into Mach's wound and wrapping the rest around the blade of his dagger. A thick green juice oozed out of each of the pieces that were torn. Once the hole was filed in and the dagger covered in torn herb and its juices, Mach finally looked down. He got his first glimpse of the injury King Rubious had given him. It was more than four inches long and more than an inch wide, he was surprised that the wound did not spill more blood, given its size and depth.

  His pain was slowly dissipating as Sehto filled the wound with the crushed herb. The moment the herb solution entered his wound and began circulating throughout his body, he began to feel the same relief as he had felt while sucking on the whole leaf. The two together was almost enough to completely rid the pain from his body.

  “Alright, give him some more to suck on. In fact, roll a few up tightly and let him bite down on it. So long as he doesn't choke on it, he will be fine,” Mendoll ordered, “this herb can be consumed in large quantities without any side effects.”

  Once the rolled herb was between his teeth, the two men nodded to Bastra. “Alright lad, remember what we said, this ain't gonna be fun,” Bastra said placing his massive hands across Mach’s entire upper body. The force was enough to make sure he did not move, but not enough to crush him. “Alright you two, let's get this done.”

  Mendoll nodded once and fire erupted from the palm of his left hand, taking the shape of a tiny orb that resembled a miniature sun. Ever Flame! The Mage had first conjured the same flame back in SnowDrift. Flames licked upward as he held it. He co
uld feel the heat emanating from it, but unlike the Ever Flame Mendoll had summoned the last time, this one seemed to be less impressive. It was more like a small candle fire rolled up into a ball.

  Quickly in succession, Mendoll placed his right hand over the flame and it instantly turned bright green. Mach was already trying to squirm away. He did not like this idea anymore, whatever it was that they were planning. Holding a dangerous ball of fire over a wounded child did not seem very appealing anymore, even if it were truly the only method left. There must be another way, a way that did not involve a scene from the darkest hour of a nightmare. He wanted another healer to try his luck. To see what they would say about his wound and this terrifying procedure.

  Sehto placed his blade over Mach’s body, the flat of it still covered with the juices of the herb. He watched in fixated fear as Mendoll tilted his hand and let the ball of green fire fall onto the blade, all the while muttering the words Mach did not understand.

  When the fire touched the blade, a flash of green and red flared and the ball sunk into the steel, merging with the blade. The silver of the blade was now infused with Mendoll's strangely colored fire, shimmering and pulsing with green and red, tiny flames shooting up like hundreds of tiny candles. He could smell the pieces of leaves burning on the blade, the smell both sweet and bitter and nothing of it actually burning. It reminded him again of the remedies his mother used to make over the hearth, the strong perfume of it would linger in the house for days on end.

  “On the count of three. One!” Mach stared up at Sehto, his eyes wide with fear like a trapped animal. The tracker’s eyes were directed only at his wound.

  “Two!” Were they going to stab him with that dagger? This was completely insane! What the hell are they thinking!

  “Three!” The moment Sehto reached the final count, Bastra firmly applied pressure on Mach's chest and the tracker flipped the blade over and laid the flat of it on Mach’s wound. Without delay, Mendoll placed his hand on top of the blade. Mach felt as if his body was on fire, the flames scorching and destroying every inch of his flesh.

  And then, everything turned white and the pain vanished.

  He stood in an empty field surrounded by smoke and mist. The green of the grass darkened by the dimmed light all around, clouds of black and grey wafting from one spot to another, never staying in one spot for more than a moment as a breeze swept all around heedless of anything or anyone. He could see the three suns above, all three crimson red through the thick smoke in the air.

  The laughter came, the same laughter that made him shiver in fear and hatred.

  “You think you can take me on, boy,” the voice said just out of his sight, concealed by the smoke. “You don’t have a chance.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere, as though the speaker were in a thousand different places all at once.

  “I will stop you!” He yelled into the smoke, his anger and courage mixing within giving him strength he did not feel he truly had. His eyes darted one way, then another, searching for any sign of his adversary. “If not for my own personal revenge, then just to stop you from hurting anyone else!”

  The laughter grew louder, as though whoever it was were directly in front of him. “Your father didn’t stand a chance against me and neither do you.”

  He could feel himself shaking with rage. So this man knew his father, did he? Suddenly, from out of the mist, a human figure lashed out at him with inhuman speed, armed with a sword glinting in the dull suns' light. He raised his sword and blocked the attack just in time to prevent a gash in his shoulder. There was something familiar about this. It was almost like a subconscious memory being replayed in his mind.

  But how could this be a memory?

  The face, so distorted by smoke and haze and his own fear, was right up against his own. He could smell the putrid breath on this demonic being, feel the heat of it against his flesh. The only thing that he could see clearly were the wild red eyes glaring directly into his, making his skin tingle with anger and fear.

  “You will never defeat me! You are weak just like your father. He was no match for my blade,” the man whispered, droplets of rancid saliva landing on his face as the man spoke, “what makes you think you are?”

  Mach’s rage peaked. This was the bastard that had taken everything away from him! This was the man that had killed his father and had flipped his whole world upside down! He focused his mind on the rage within and his blade burst into flame, the light so bright that he had to close his eyes against it. His rage became a physical entity. His anger turned to living flame.

  He opened his eyes slightly and he could still see the man in front of him, red eyes, sun tanned skin and jet black hair. The man’s eyes began to show a trace of fear, but it quickly turned to anger.

  This was the moment he had been waiting for. This was what all his training and all his suffering had led him to. He would live or die right here on this field and it did not matter to him which it was. All that mattered was that it would finally end this day.

  Mach's eyes snapped open as pain racked his body once more. He was laying on a bed, his chest wrapped in a white cloth. Miatsu was standing by his bedside, his little hand on his shoulder. “Mage say we near home. He says come and get you, things not what they should be. Things different from what he thought.”

  He laid there for several moments gathering his thoughts. These dreams were so real, this last one more so than the previous times he had experienced it. He could almost still taste the fear in his mouth along with the smell of burning land. He thought he could still feel the fire in his blade and he looked at his hands, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour yet remaining in a single spot.

  He thought he might have heard the clash of steel on steel somewhere in the distance. The sound of the other soldiers fighting around him. Was this the past he was seeing? Was there a chance, like some of the dreams before now, that this was a vision of someone’s past fight? Could he learn from it if he watched closely enough? If he could, maybe he may just stand a chance against his own enemies.

  Miatsu’s words finally sunk in…he was home. Home after so long a time, too long of a time. The last time he had seen it, the village was aflame and buildings were falling apart. People were screaming and running in every direction, some of them managing to escape to safety while others ran right into danger's path and were torn apart. Others had simply disappeared into the bilious smoke of the burning bodies and smoldering village. Others like his mother were not seen at all.

  A part of him did not want to see what had happened. He wanted to merely bypass the village and go straight into the forest to seek out the cottage that he knew his mother was in. That is what part of him wanted to do. That same part so easily convinced him to run away from searching for his mother. But that part of him was no longer in control. Would never be in control again if he could help it.

  Slowly, he rose from his bed, Miatsu remained beside him as if to support him if he needed it. Even though he would crush the imp if he were to fall, Miatsu stood by his side without a worry for his own safety. Moving cautiously to where his clothes were laid out, he took slow, steady breaths so he would not reopen the wound his friends had so painstakingly mended.

  As soon as he was dressed, Miatsu handed him a cup of tea that held pieces of the herb he remembered the others using on him. Thankfully it was not hot. In fact, it seemed to him that the tea had been made a long while ago in the hopes that he would wake sooner than he had. However, it tasted fine cold, perhaps even better than if it had been hot.

  Relief began to spread through him and he felt revitalized by the drink. He edged his way out of the room with Miatsu in tow. Together they made their way to the upper deck to find blinding light shinning down on the ship. The sound of seagulls pierced the air, harmonizing with the crashing of waves against the bow of the ship. Unfortunately, the familiar sounds were not enough to hide the smell of destruction.

  As he stepped fully onto the deck he saw the clif
fs that were to the north of his home. The ones he used to play on all the time when he was younger. A rush of nostalgia came over him as he watched the cliffs pass by, becoming insignificant and distant as the ship began to round the coast to the cove where his home lay, like the happy times he had once experienced here. He breathed deeply and spoke a single word with a sigh. “Home.”

  Behind him on the upper deck, he saw Mendoll, Bastra and Sehto. The group had not even noticed that he was outside until he was a few feet from them. “How is that wound?” Mendoll asked as he neared the group. Sehto moved quickly to his side and began removing some of the bandages without saying a word as he examined the wound.

  “Not bad.” The tracker said finally. “It’s turned an ugly shade, but that's to be expected. No blood though. That's a good sign,” Sehto nodded, examining the wound more closely. “Swelling has gone down as well.”

  Mendoll looked relieved by those words. “I do not know if it will ever heal properly. I just wish I knew what kind of steel that sword was made out of. Or better yet, if there was any enchantment on it. Just keep a few patches with you. It might still bleed every now and then. I just can’t be sure without knowing exactly what was on that blade. But it will be nothing to worry about.” Mendoll said confidently.

  Mach looked over Sehto's shoulder as the tracker continued to scrutinize his would and watched closely as Selane came into full view. As the cliffs fell completely to meet the sea with low coastline, the land opened up to reveal exactly what he had thought he would see. Several smoke columns rose over the hillside, still dark and ominous. As he eyed the columns rising into the air he realized something different from what he remembered from the day of the attack. The rising smoke did not seem to be the same uncontrolled pillars he had seen that day. In fact, they looked a lot like the kind of columns open-pit cooking fires would produce when they were in heavily use. “Are you going to start right away?” Bastra asked him from behind.

  He nodded without turning his eyes away. He didn’t need to ask what the Gargoyle was talking about, or who he was talking to. His plan was to be out of here by sunset to search for the hunter and his cabin. If there really was anyone left here, then perhaps someone here might know of the hunter's whereabouts. It may just be that this hunter was a familiar body among the village men. In any case, he was not going to wait around. He was already scanning the tree lines for any sign of the clearing and the hut. If only it would be that easy.

  When he realized what he was doing, he immediately stopped. There was no way for him to locate it from this distance and it was just a waste of time and energy to try in the growing darkness. Instead, he turned his eyes back to Selane and what he saw nearly made him cry out in anguish.

  The town was in ruins, far more than he could ever have imagined them to be. Not a single living person could be seen from the deck of the ship and by the state of the buildings, he doubted there would be many left alive. As they neared the dock, he saw that there were still blood stains on the wood piers and along the dirt road that led into the town. It must have been a horrid battle. He prayed that the group that took on Rubious’ forces had taken as many of them out before they themselves were destroyed.

  They docked in Selane by the time the last sun was beginning to set. He was apprehensive about going into town. Flashes of that day haunted him still, particularly the vision of George running off headlong into battle armed for battle, the blacksmith yelling back for Mach to run away. He began to wonder dreadfully if any of the blood here was his or if it would be further up. He dreaded what he may see in town. He did not think the enemy would have been kind enough to clean up after themselves when they left.

  He was already tired from standing around for as long as he had been. It felt like his wound was draining what little strength he had left and there was no telling how long he would be able to continue. He may not be able to leave tonight, perhaps leaving in the morning would be better. Whatever it was that was causing him to feel weak, it left him feeling stiff and dizzy.

  The day turned dark with the sunset and the clouds rolling in only darkened his mood, it made the town look worse than it already was. Sehto found a few choice swear words as the group disembarked from the ship for the first time and they truly looked at what was around them. Other than blood, the docks seemed fine and mostly undamaged. It was only as they entered the town itself that he noticed that there was not a single building near the water that had been saved in the attack. Everything was obliterated for the first few blocks. Thankfully, there were no bodies. he did not think he could have handled seeing his old friends' partially decomposed bodies on the ground.

  Flashes of the carnage that had occurred filled his thoughts. He had believed things had been bad that day, but now that he saw the aftermath, he realized how lucky he had been just to have escaped. As the last rays of sun were falling properly in the sky, turning the heavens above crimson gold, they entered the middle of town. So many dreams and memories had turned to ash that day. He began to wonder whether the neighbor down the road had lived, or if the old lady who had given him treats at the market stall across from the church was still hobbling around. He had even planned to ask a lovely girl he had liked for years to be his girl later in that week before the attack. Had any one of those people that he had held dear to him lived through this?

  He stopped reminiscing suddenly, his thoughts changing from wondering and remembering to dangerously alert. Something was watching them. He had not heard anything, and it seemed that neither did anyone else. However, he got a chill up his spine that sent him off the edge. Drawing his sword slowly he scanned the shadows for any movements, any signs of a hidden enemy. For any signs of the inevitable attack and where it would come from.

  Rocks fell from a building ahead, rubble falling to the ground and in the silence it sounded like an avalanche. Something shot passed his head and he could feel the cold steel as it cut through some of his hair and he knew that it had not missed. It was a warning.

  He twisted around and swung his blade. He had reacted without thinking and it had saved his life. A thin blade had connected with his sword. Had he not turned, the steel would have lodged itself in his spine and he would be dead. The strike had caused him to lose his balance, but only for a moment. In no time, he was lunging forward, slashing at the hip of his enemy. He did not want to kill it, he needed information and whoever this was, this stranger might just have what he needed.

  He felt his blade cut flesh as he thrust it forward. “You will pay for that, scum!” It was a gruff and hoarse voice. One that sounded very familiar to him. He caught a glimpse of a second blade being drawn and barely had time to react. Blocking the strike may have stopped him from being carved up, but it did knock him backwards into a wall. With a resounding crunch the enemy was on top of Mach, the thin blade pressed up against his throat. Pain exploded through his head as he felt it smash against the wall. His shoulder erupted in pain, both causing the little bit of sight he had to waver and vanish.

  The last thing he remembered was someone yelling a name and the warm and sticky feeling of blood flowing down his front and back.