The Chronicles of Aurion Read online

  “Well, no offense, Captain, but I hope we don’t run into too many of those before we reach our destination. I would hate to miss our own opportunity. I’m sure you can understand,” said Absell.

  Ponterossi’s face softened a bit, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, of course, every man is entitled to his own chance to tame the dragon.”

  “I just hope we are not too late,” added the priest.

  Ponterossi chuckled as he turned and walked away. Absell’s remark had once again intrigued his student. Out of aggravation, the youth placed his crossed arms over his chest and began to give Absell what he thought was a mighty intense glare.

  “Stop pouting. When you screw your face up like that it just looks childish,” remarked Absell as he scolded his student.

  “I’m not a child, but you keep treating me like one!” Arden barked.

  “What on earth are you blathering about, I’ve been telling you the—”

  Arden cut in, “Yes, but you’re not telling me everything, and you keeping talking in code.”

  “What—oh, the dragon remark?” asked the teacher.

  “Yes,” answered Arden.

  “You are a wonderfully ignorant boy, aren’t you? Pirates are a superstitious lot with many strange beliefs. As such they have many sayings. Taming the Dragon is one of their oldest ones—”

  Arden cut in again, “What does it mean?”

  Absell slapped him upside the back of his head, “Stop interrupting! As I was trying to explain, everyone knows that the only ones better than pirates at finding and hoarding their wealth, are dragons. The saying was introduced by the robber barons as a sort of a tip of the cap to the dragons themselves, in hopes that they would bestow luck and fortune upon them. When a new mate joins a baron’s crew, he is asked one question. The question is always the same. The captain will ask why they want to join the crew, and the proper response is—”

  “To tame the dragon,” said Arden as he finished the priest’s sentence. He nodded his head in understanding.

  The older priest continued, “My response was an answer of not only respect, but it was to establish a common ground. If nothing else, pirates respect the pursuit of wealth.”

  “These stones, this mission…,” said Arden as he thought, “they are valuable…but it isn’t even about the wealth, is it?”

  Absell looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, then he turned back to Arden with a dangerous grin of his own. “No, not even close,” replied Absell with a wink. “Now let’s get back to your history lesson.”

  “Good, because I have a few questions,” said Arden.

  “Just a few?” asked Absell.

  “Well…for the moment anyway. Queen Yezreth was some kind of sorceress or witch, right, but you really still haven’t explained to me what the magic is or how it works,” said the student.

  Absell paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts, then he answered, “We could lose days discussing the inner workings of the magics. It isn’t important at this stage of your studies, though. The bit that is important right now, is for you to understand the value of the Elder Stones.”

  “But if the magics are indeed real, and so many of the stories I have read about are real, then I must know more,” gushed Arden.

  Absell smiled and said, “The magics are indeed fascinating and accessible, so they are of equal importance in the grand scheme of things, but a rudimentary understanding will suffice for the time being.”

  “Wait…what do you mean by accessible?” asked the youth.

  “By accessible, I mean they are not exclusive,” he replied.

  “So anyone can learn to use the magics?” asked Arden, with wide eyes.

  “Well, you’ve said it yourself. If throughout the history of Aurion people of every religion have been able to wield these supernatural powers, do you really think it is a divine gift offered by their deity?” asked Absell dryly.

  Arden scratched his head before answering, “Well, no. That would suggest that every religion to be true, every god to be real, which flies in the face of our own faith.”

  The smile returned to Absell’s face. “So then, what can we surmise?”

  Arden stared off at the horizon as he pondered the question. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he returned his mentor’s stare and said, “The magics, whatever they are, must exist naturally throughout the world. Therefore, they would be accessible to anyone who knows how to manipulate them.”

  “Very good, my boy,” said Absell.

  “So why are the Elder Stones so important then?” Arden asked.

  “Yes why are they so important? Think of what you have learned about the magics so far from the story of Queen Yezreth,” replied Absell as he steered his pupil’s mind.

  “Okay…think…okay, so whenever magic was used, there was some type of spoken command,” said Arden.

  “Right, and what comes next?” asked Absell.

  Arden paused for a moment as he came to a realization, “Pain, they all experienced great pain as they cast their spells.”

  Absell looked down as he picked at his fingernails. “All of them?”

  “Yes all of…wait, not her. She never cried out in pain in your story!” shouted Arden as excitement overtook him.

  “Well done, Arden, but why?” asked the teacher.

  The story replayed in Arden’s mind, scene after scene, until he saw it. It was the pulsing flash of violet light coming from the gem that hung from her neck. Arden nearly leapt in excitement as he pieced the puzzle together. “It’s the Elder Stones! She was the only one with a stone and the magic never hurt her. So that is why they are so valuable.”

  “Indeed. That is generally the reason they were so highly sought after,” said Absell as he proudly regarded his student. “Now, I think it is time we get back to our history lesson. Shall we?”

  “Yes, teacher,” replied Arden.

  Absell said, “Very well. Queen Yezreth’s quest for the Elder Stones was drawing near to completion. It was the year of 7290.”

  Vaudrin locked the clasp of the iron brooch. The hardened jaws of the engraved maug beast held the fabric tight. The luxurious violet cloth was draped over the bulky, golden-hued armor that encased him. Some called him a paladin, some a crusader, and yet others still a templar, but by any other name, Vaudrin was a Ki’Roten, a champion of the light. It was a light that had all but vanished. It hadn’t always seemed so dim though.

  Like his long gray hair, the deep lines that doubt and worry had etched into his face revealed an age that his muscled body would try to deny. Like his fathers before him, Vaudrin had spent his entire adult life, close to forty years, in the service of the Church of Providence.

  Giving one’s life to the church used to be an honor of the highest regard among his people. He remembered children playing in the streets of Kiskarn and Rotenschoff. Their wooden swords rattled and clacked as they fought imaginary evils, cast out demons, slayed dragons, and healed the broken. They imagined that their wondrous and honorable deeds earned them selection into the knighthood. They aspired to become Ki’Roten, noble champions of the light, warrior priests who fought the darkness at every turn, freeing the oppressed and uplifting the downtrodden. That seemed like a long time ago though.

  This mighty champion of the faith stood bold and fearless in the face of evil countless times, tireless in his devotion to the cause. Times had changed though. The days of traveling to distant lands to protect the innocent were over. No longer were the Ki’Roten waging war upon unspeakable evils like the Gyrim and the Khronous. Now, under the direction of her highness, Queen Yezreth, the Ki’Roten still traveled across Aurion and they still waged war, but for what?

  In the wake of her daughter’s death, Queen Yezreth reclaimed the throne, but she wasn’t the same any more. Anjerra had only been queen for a few years, but the sorrows of life left Yezreth worn. She was still strong and decisive, but a shadow lingered upon her countenance and her eyes looked—tired. They were
tired because they never rested, but her eyes were not just tired, they were haunted. Yezreth’s eyes cried out from the same torment that the Spirit of Addiction inflicted upon those it consumed. That same hopeless, longing…aching desire that bears no semblance of reason, danced without ceasing in her eyes.

  She often daydreamed. Her haunted gaze drifted as if she were searching through both time and space, into the unknown voids between worlds. A great deal of her waking hours were spent in this meditative state. Months would pass by, but the queen would stay like this until she found what she was searching for. Once she had discovered the whereabouts of another Elder Stone, Yezreth would emerge from her quarters born anew with both vigor and determination. She would then commission the Ki’Roten to retrieve those precious stones, and that is when the wars began. Vaudrin secretly chronicled those regretful days.

  I remember the events well. It all started in the year 7286, just a few months after Yezreth captured the orc warlord. She sent us south across the Frostlands. We were to escort the infamous Gazrin StormHowl back to his home in the Frostridge Mountains. Many of the men were frightened at first, but it was soon clear that the magical binding that she placed upon his mind was more than effective. He spoke to himself frequently, and often to others that were nowhere to be seen, perhaps those beyond the grave. By the time we reached our destination, the orc's mind was gone, lost deep into madness. Yet we were the ones with the true sickness, and we shall never be forgiven for the atrocities that we allowed him to commit.

  Gazrin StormHowl's tragic life ended much as it began. Like a newborn, he was clothed in naught but crimson—and he wailed. The earth drank up the blood of his kin and tears streamed down his face. Then Gazrin took the life of the last orc in the eastern world: his own.

  There were no victory songs or triumphant melodies played on our return march. It was sombre and surreal. We had all seen the horrors of battle before, but this was different. Queen Yezreth said that it had to be done, that the land had to be cleansed of evil. It was a lie; we were the wicked ones.

  When we returned, she told us of a dream. She called it a vision, a prophecy handed down from the gods themselves. They spoke to her of five stones of power, the Elder Stones. One of them, an amethyst, was already in her possession. None of us knew, or particularly cared, about her large jewel. She was a queen. Bearing such extravagance was her divine right as our ruler. At first glance, her stone, like the others, appeared very much like the gemstones of this world: sapphire, ruby, etc. The Elder Stones were larger, of course, and of a variety of shapes, but nothing about them appeared to be out of the ordinary. However, there was much more to these otherworldly stones than we guessed.

  She told us that the ancient gods showed her glorious visions of a reign of light where the gods themselves would return to Aurion to rule upon the thrones of the world. She said that the gods instructed her to build a gateway to the heavens. Curses, only the gods themselves know why I trusted her! Even if I didn't, it wouldn't have mattered; she always had a certain…power of persuasion. So we built the gateway. It consisted of five concentric arches of ivory and gold, and each of the five arches was adorned with a golden cradle at its apex. That is where the Elder Stones would rest. When all five arches were powered by an Elder Stone, this majestic construct would serve as a doorway for the exiled kings of old, the gods themselves, to come home. This was not just some prophecy; it was the prophecy. It was everything we believed in, everything we waited, no…hoped for. It was providence. She had us all.

  First she sent us to Jharkar in the far east. Our troop commissioned fifty Ki’Roten blades, hardly a military force. Yezreth explained that the stones had a voice, that they sang. She told us that those unfamiliar with songs of the divine could be tormented by its melody. So she implored us to bring a few of her priests with us, allowing only them to handle the gems. The queen believed their training and skill in the sacred arts would prepare them for the songs of the Elder Stones. Being this close to prophecy, something I served my entire life only hoping to see, was exhilarating; but I had no desire to be close enough that I might touch the things of gods. I was happy to oblige, so we brought along three of her hand-selected clerics. Little did we know they weren’t even priests; they were mages.

  The first gem, like a great sapphire, was said to be held by the local lord. Allabath was his name. He was a peculiar little fellow. Only the great teal kofia that sat atop his head gave him even the slightest appearance of any height at all. His matching robes were elegant, made of the finest suli cloth, and that’s really who he was. Just a small time ruler with a taste for all the extravagance his wealth could buy. Jharkar was not a kingdom of significance, but the lord himself was quite wealthy due to the heavy tariff he placed on the suli traders. The sapphire gem was said to be his prized possession.

  Queen Yezreth did not send us on our mission empty-handed though. She understood what kind of man Allabath was. She realized that Jharkar was no threat militarily, but she hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. So the queen offered up that which the little lord cherished most, gold, and lots of it. It took two days of negotiating with him, but he eventually sold us the sapphire Elder Stone for a hefty sum of two hundred and thirty sheks, eight skurs, and eleven skrebs. That’s Thirty-three thousand, two hundred and twenty-seven silver skrebs! That is enough to buy a small city in some parts of Aurion! The greedy little pig accepted the offer reluctantly and we left before he could change his mind. Despite the handsome price tag, he clearly had no idea of the stone’s true purpose or worth. Neither did we. If only the others had been acquired so easily…

  It was the year of 7288…

  “Queen Yezreth, you already possess the amethyst and sapphire Elder Stones, and we have now recovered the emerald. However, these confrontations grow bloodier and bloodier,” said the kneeling Commander.

  Without taking her eyes off the stones laid before her, she responded, “It will require all five stones to fulfill the prophecy.”

  “But at what cost?” asked the intrepid Vaudrin.

  “Any,” was her terse reply. Her gaze was unremoved from the stones.

  Vaudrin winced at her answer. He unclenched his teeth and said, “Your Majesty, even if we get the topaz stone from King Teremiss, getting the fifth stone will be—”

  “Will be what, Commander?” snapped Yezreth, as she fired him a warning glare.

  “It will be war, all-out war. This will not be some small land lord that we can pay off, and it won’t be a small keep to siege. You’re talking about Girielle…and the elven King Lorenathi’Liluon!”

  Deep lines formed between the queen’s eyebrows and her lip curled into a snarl. “Do you deny the will of the gods? Do you deny the fulfillment of prophecy?”

  “Yezreth!” he said brazenly, “The elven king will not relinquish that stone, you and I both know it. This will lead to war, and war against Lorenathi’s people is suicide.”

  “Do not forget your place, commander,” barked Yezreth. “And you did not answer my questions. Do you deny the will of the gods?”

  Vaudrin stood tall, his eyes and his voice full of dangerous fire. “If we are all dead, then the gods be damned, my queen!”

  Eyes wide and mouth agape, she gasped. “I pray your blasphemy has fallen on deaf ears!”

  “What kind of gods have deaf ears?” The cynical words flew past his lips before he could think to close them, but he did not relent in the dangerous game he played. His anger and doubt were sincere and filled him with passion.

  Yezreth’s expression shifted from shocked to contemplative. Her lavish quarters were quiet apart from the barely audible hum of the nearby stones. She straightened her posture, reestablishing her royal composure, and then she spoke. “How does one bereft of belief rise to your rank and station?”

  Like his voice, the dangerous flames in his eyes roared. “I believe as my fathers before me believed, that the gods called all men to a higher standard. That men are born to aid and protect, not
seek and destroy. This,” he shouted as he broke the bloodstained pendant free from his neck and threw it to the floor, “is not the will of my gods, nor of any worth serving.”

  A wry smile crept over the queen’s face and then she replied, “Good thing I am not a man. Besides, I see many other purposes for a man like you.”

  “Yez, I can’t let you do this. My men—”

  Yezreth cut him off sharply, “I will do whatever I want. And don’t act like you’re some poor suffering servant, you’re getting everything you want. I know because you always come crawling back begging for more! Maybe that’s the problem. Perhaps I should find someone else who would appreciate your enviable position. Hmmm, that could be fun…”

  “Yez,” Vaudrin said with a groan.

  The snarling Queen cut him off again saying, “Carry out the will of your gods and queen, retrieve the stones, or I’ll find a man who will.”

  It was the year of 7289…

  Captain Galyon deflected another arrow with his shield. “Do we sound the retreat?” he cried out.

  “The archers, take out the archers!” screamed Vaudrin as he parried a slashing attack.

  The arrows continued to rain down from Teremiss Keep. The clanging echo of arrows crashing down upon hardened steel could not drown out the mingled cries of pain. The battle had just turned bloodier for both sides. King Teremiss the Third seemed mad. He was willing to keep the Elder Stone at all costs, even if it meant slaughtering his own men.

  “Dammit, men, get the archers!” shouted Galyon.

  “Mages, do your job,” roared Commander Vaudrin as he parried another attack with his massive blade.

  The dark clerics reluctantly began their chant. They were not afraid of battle; it was their evocation that frightened them. They knew what it brought. The archers atop the keep walls had to be eliminated, though, and they knew it, so they began their strange utterances.