The Stone

Prologue to stories never told of how magic reached our land.

The Stone

The king’s chancellor practically kicked the door open and rushed in to the study, shutting and locking the door violently behind him.  It startled the old mage at work at his desk.

The two men’s eyes met and the mage knew that something dire had happened. 

“What is it,” said the old mage.  “What’s happened?”

“It’s the king,” said the chancellor, out of breath.  He wiped sweat from his greying brow.  “I ran all the way here to warn you as soon as I found out.  I haven’t run since I was in my twenties.  I feel as if my heart will burst.”

The chancellor swallowed, let out a wearied cough.  Then took a deep breath and spoke his news.

“The king has issued an edict banning all magic.”

“That’s preposterous,” said the old mage.  “He can’t do that.  Just because his son could not follow directions… I told that boy not to meddle with magic.  And it was on the king’s own orders that he received instruction before he was ready.  He knew all the risks.”

“It’s already done,” interrupted the chancellor.  “The king blames magic for the boy’s death.  By now he has made the declaration public and sent his personal guard to kill all known magicians. ”

The old mage still held two vials of colorful liquid from his experiment.  They fell to the cobblestone and shattered, igniting into purple flame for an instant then disappeared in a plume of white smoke.

“The fool,” said the mage.  He looked at his hands, then at the chancellor.  “I told that boy not to meddle with magic.  I warned them all.  And doesn’t the king have other sons?”

“Aye,” said the chancellor.  “But Henry was his favorite.  And besides, a son is a son, Merrick.  He mourns him greatly.”

“Cannot something be done?  Surely the king can be dissuaded.”

The chancellor shook his head slowly.  

“It makes no difference.  What’s done is done.  I came as quickly as I could.

The king’s men will be here at any moment" the king means to spare your life in recompense for your past services to the kingdom""  but he means for you to surrender the source stone.  The king wishes it destroyed.”

“That is folly,” said the old mage grimly.  “Destroying the source stone won’t destroy magic.  It will only make it wild" untamed and impossible to control.  Monsters, trolls, dragons… there will be a dark storm upon this land as has not been seen for a thousand years.”

The old mage looked around him.  At the books, the histories that given time he could use to explain to the king the folly of his plan.  

The old mage looked at the vials of blue and green potions mounted in racks and neatly labeled.  Healing spells that would all be rendered useless should the king succeed.  

He sighed.  There was nothing worth saving here that could not be rebuilt in a new land, but the years of work would be lost.  It was the source stone that posed the greatest threat to him and all magic.  Should they destroy that, it would ruin everything. 

“Daryl, you’ve put yourself in grave danger to come warn me,”  said the mage.  “Thank you.”

“You saved my daughter when the plague nearly took her.  You have my loyalty forever, Merrick.  I would have spoken against the edict, but the king sought no counsel.  Perhaps in time I may be able to change his mind and get him to reverse his decision… I’m sorry I could not do more.”

“I fear the actions of the day will make it very difficult to undo what has been done.  There shall forever be an enmity between magic and this kingdom,” the old mage leaned wearily on the table, pressing his eyes shut and thinking as a man does when he thinks as hard as he can.

“Perhaps there is something you can do yet, Daryl,” said the old mage quietly.  “The future of magic and the kingdom depends on it.”

There was a pounding at the door. 

“Open the door, Merrick!” said a gruff voice beyond the door.  “We come with orders from the king!”

“They’re here,” whispered the chancellor in a panic.  He had turned pale.  “They can’t know I came to warn you.”

The old mage raised a hand to calm the chancellor. “We are not too late,” he said softly.  “Have faith.”

Then, in a loud voice so that those outside would hear him, the mage said, “Just a minute!  I will be right there.”

“Make haste, wizard,” said the gruff voice.  “We haven’t got all day.”

Then the old mage motioned for the chancellor to follow him into the adjacent room.  It was lined with more books and tables with potions and experiments.  There were tables with cages with mice and snakes, and baby chickens.

But the old mage had no interest in these things.  There was only one thing that mattered now.  He made straight for the painting on the far side of the room.  Of a knight baring a sword of brilliant light pointed into the stormy heavens, as a lightning bolt fell from the sky and struck the blade.

He swung the painting open like a door and waved his hand over the stone wall.  It disappeared, and there was the compartment with a black box.

The old mage pulled out the black box, and set it down on the table.  He motioned for the chancellor to come close.

“This" is the source stone,” said the wizard, opening the box.  “It is the last remaining piece of what once was the shield of Aegis.  Do you know the story of the shield of Aegis, Daryl?”

The chancellor leaned in close.  The stone was a milk white crystal the size of an egg.  The old mage waved a hand over the stone and it glowed so brilliantly, the chancellor raised his hands to shield his eyes.  When the light was gone, the wizard having placed the stone inside of a leather pouch and tied it with a string.

“Everyone knows the legend of the Aegis,” said Daryl, blinking away the spots that still danced before his eyes.  “You mean to tell me that the stories were true?”

The old mage nodded.  One thousand years ago, with the help of the noble dragons Ick, Mak, and Toh, and the nine champions, the dark age of magic was put to an end with the creation of the Aegis shield, a powerful artifact that sealed the wild torrents of magic. It ensured that future generations would not lose control of magic.   Also, it gave the shield’s wielder god like powers that were sought after and fought over.  The shield had been broken and mutilated into pieces.  

“After a thousand years,” said the mage, “Only this last shard remains of the champion Alrich’s shield with any power.  It is the world’s last hope to keep magic safe.  You must protect it, Daryl.  You must take it to my sister Cora Dianna in the forest of shadows.  She will keep it safe until a plan can be made about the king.  She has always wanted the stone for her own ends.  But perhaps she will honor me and protect it until I can return.”

“Yes, Merrick,” said Daryl gravely. “I will do as you ask.”  

“Then the future of magic, yet has a hope,” said Merrick.  “I will create a distraction for you to leave here, my friend.”

The old mage clasped hands with the chancellor.  

There was an impatient pounding at the door.  The guardsmen were growing impatient.  “Hurry up, magician!  Or we will bash in the door here and now!”

“I come, guardsmen!  Step away from the door!”

Merrick opened the door to his rooms.

“The king means to see you immediately,” said their leader.  There were four guards, all clad in full armor with the king’s golden seal branded on their chest plates. 

“Since when does summoning me to the king require an armed escort?” asked Merrick.

Without another word, they seized him and pulled him into the hall and across the castle.

Merrick felt the anger in his belly boil.  When they had dragged him a good way off, and Merrick was certain he had given the chancellor enough of a head start, he unleashed his anger, in a flash of light and a sound like thunder.

***

The king was at dinner when Merrick appeared, as from the shadows themselves, only slightly more dramatic.  For when the king was dishing a knife-ful of meat " and he did so with little enthusiasm as he was still mourning his son’s death " suddenly there was a plume of white smoke and from within, the mage stepped forth.

Merrick suspected that things were not as they seemed.  The king was too hunched over his meal, reacting with little enthusiasm even when Merrick manifested from the thin air.

The guardsmen and the king’s cup bearer stepped back, startled by Merrick’s apparition.  But the king was stone faced and weary.

Slowly, the king looked up from his roasted beef and chicken, and met eyes with Merrick " who stared angrily with fire in his eyes.

“What do you want wizard?” asked the king.  His eyes were haggard, the color of purple as only a man who has sobbed for hours can bear.  “Why do you trouble me with your presence?  I want nothing to do with magic.  Not now.”

Merrick felt a chill run up his spine. He had expected the king to be in his rooms. Armed to the teeth and surrounded with warriors.  Expecting retaliation for his declaration.

“What kind of game are you playing?” said the magician.  “Did you not send your guardsmen to apprehend me and bring me to you?  Did you not outlaw magic and send men to kill every wizard in the kingdom?”

“Bah!”  snorted the king.   “You’re drunk magician.  Why would I do that"  You were right all along.  It was foolishness to press Killian to learn magic before his time.  But he had such promise.  And there were voices in my ear whispering all the time of the power we could wield if a future king had mastery of spellcasting.”

The king was drunk.  He slurred when he spoke.  But on finishing his last sentence, he realized why the mage must be here, making such accusations.  He perceived the meaning of the unusual circumstances of his visit.

“Why are you here, Merrick.  What’s happened?”

The old mage was looking at his hands again.  Feeling boyish and stupid, despite his old age.  

“Then it wasn’t you who sent the guardsmen to take me?  To steal from me the source stone?” 

The old mage told the king of the chancellor’s visit.  Of his words claiming the king meant to purge magic from the land.

The king shook his head gravely.   

“I hate magic, and always will for what it did to my son,” said the king, pointing the end of his knife at the old mage.  “But I had nothing to do with this.  The chancellor lied to you.  And now it seems you have a problem.  Go solve it and leave me be.  If it is the end of magic, then so be it.  Leave me alone to grieve my son, Merrick.”

The old mage thought of demanding soldiers from the king.  To help him comb the lands in search of the chancellor and the source stone.  But he knew it was folly.  The king would lend no hand. He did not understand the gravity of the situation.

 

***

That night, in a wet cave miles away from the castle, Daryl Charlemagne, the once chancellor of the king, carried his precious package deep into the depths of that cavern.  There he found the one he sought" the hooded dark one" seated by a fire.

The hooded one’s head inclined briefly.  The crazy shadows of the fire danced on the veiled face and it could not be distinguished even as a fully human face.

“Did you bring it,” said the hooded one.  “Is it finally mine?”

“Yes,”  said Daryl.  “I followed your plan to the letter.  And now the source stone is ours.”

“Ah, the source stone is ours?”  said the hooded figure in a sardonic tone.  

Catching the meaning and feeling an ominous pressure upon his chest, Daryl corrected himself.  

“I meant, the source stone is yours, of course,” he said, swallowing.  “And… and you will honor our deal?”  

He had not meant to make this last part a question, and yet his insecurity was showing clearly.  Daryl was afraid.  Until tonight, he had spoken with the hooded figure only in his dreams.  It had promised him wealth and power" which interested him little" But it had also promised security and safety for his daughter, something that in this quickly waning world was becoming more and more difficult to acquire.

The hooded figure laughed.  And what was left of Daryl’s resolve dissolved into the dark.  

“Give it to me,” said the hooded figure.  “You have done well, my little puppet.  And you have earned your reward.  Power, safety, security, and a home where you and your daughter.”

Daryl took the source stone out of the pouch Merrick gave him.  It glowed brightly when the hooded figure’s hands took it, though not as brightly, he noticed.

The hooded figure’s hands, Daryl wondered, fascinated, were such milk white as might never have seen the sun.  They were smooth, like polished alabaster, and delicate. Yet their clutch was iron when they took his arm.  

Pain tore through Daryl’s body.  Pain that banishes all memory of every past pain and fear of future pain.  Pain without thought.  Pain without words.  Every nerve ending in his body felt as if it was on fire.  Skin searing, turning, flipping inside out.  

Then there was no pain.  

The ex-chancellor who had betrayed the king and Merrick for his own and his daughter’s safety lay on the floor.  He was not dead.  But neither was he conscious.

The hooded figure knew not to take chances with traitors.  They were unpredictable.  Especially under the circumstances.

The alabaster hands held the milk white crystal  carefully, setting it down on an adamantine anvil that had been procured earlier for this exact purpose.  

The hooded figure conjured a spell, and a glowing green hammer with a long black haft manifested in its alabaster hands.  

“May magic forever be lost to this age, and grow wild.  And may we who I have called step forth into the next age, where I will rule from on high.  Queen of the new earth of the future.”

The hooded figure de-frocked, the hood falling behind her shoulders.  An ancient woman with stone seemingly carved in marble stood before the glowing source stone and glowing green hammer.  She held the hammer high, a look of adoration and victory painted on the woman’s laughing face.

She brought down the hammer and it struck the source stone.  

It shattered into a million pieces and was no more.

Merrick felt it.  And so did the rest of the spell casters that lived in the world.  

And each one of them gasped as they were sucked into a vortex that they could not understand beyond space and time.  To awaken in another land where magic had never been, and never would have been.

A land they called the United States of America.

Reviews

[Alex Cook]

I thought it was good. I like your work. I like that you left out any bad language.

[Marie]

THe twist at the end of this story was good, but it lacked the punch it should have had. You made the story too long, trying to put too much into it, and I didn't find enough closure to justify its length.