The Spell of Binding (Part One) (7 page)

“Selene,” he whispered, tears formed in his eyes, as they always did when he stared at her beauty. He fingered a ring that rested on his left hand ring finger, or vena amoir : the vein of love . The ancients believed a vein ran from this wedding rin g finger straight to the heart.

Memories poured into him whenever he saw his wife’s gravestone. He had become an outcast by his own people. How could a novice mag us fall in love with a creature from their world? Regardless of whether she was an angel or not. A joining of the two races! Unheard of , and utterly unacceptable . And as soon as the elders found out about it he was punished and pulled away from her.

Selene had been a prisoner, caught by a raiding party who found a settlement close to the city. They had slaughter all in the creature’s village, even though it consisted simply of females. But none were human, dwarven or elf, so they were attacked without mercy or thought, slaughter ed like animals. Only she survived, to become a pet because of her phenomenal beauty, like having a bird of paradise in a cage, simply to be stared at.

Simeon shook his head, not wanting to remember anything more; how he had been young and full of love and fire –reckless. How he rescued her and made an escape. Their years of w a ndering in the wilderness. Shunned and hunted by both their kind. Memories, even after decades still hurt like fresh wounds.

“Time heals all things, ”
they say .
Rubbish!
“It’s better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.”
Lies he mused.

His hand moved to the multifaceted box. I t opened with a single touch. The sides parted like the petals of a stone rose. Here lay the small leather book. The book that showed the way to the Temple of Time, to the Stone of Binding; something that would take his mind off the greatest love of his life, and the source of his greatest misery and shame.

His eyes opened in panic and terror.
How? When?
His mind screamed, panic quickly taking hold. The box was empty! Somehow, someone had entered his most private, protected chamber, past all his powerful magic and had crossed the defensive moat and opened t he box.
How? It was impossible !

With rage that he hadn’t felt in years, he flung the box across the chamber, it hit the far wall behind his chair; it simply clattered to the floor unbroken. A powerful surge of raw magic poured from him, like a sonic boom from an explosion, washing over the complete room, turning his wooden chair to dust and blasting it against the solid stone walls, also destroying the flaming torches. The only light in the chamber emanated from the churning blue protective magical field around the statue –a magic al barrier that had failed him.

There was only one person capable of removing the Book. Only one gifted enough, and have the needed memories to remove the protective spells around the statue.
How was it possible? She was far from the city! My greatest shame hidden from prying eyes.

He would get to the bottom of this, check with the Gatekeepers, no one could materialize inside the city walls from outside, the barrier was too powerful. Every person that came and went had to enter through the Main Gate. If she had been to the city she would have been registered. Not simply giving a name, which could have been fake, and using a disguise, but by magic. An ancient powerful Sphere hung above the Main Gate, its purpose was to register all that entered, and all that left, keeping track of the cities population, but also – more importantly – to check that those that entered were of the three races; human, elvin or dwarf, other races would set off the alarms and seal the gate.

But why? Why would she take the Book?
Simeon confusion was replacing his anger. All she had to do was ask, and he would have let her see it.
Would I have let her ? He thought . He had been guarding the B
ook for so long, hiding it from others, supposedly for protection, it was after all many millennia old. Of course he had to protect it, not letting just anybody rub their fingers over its brittle pages. Everyone wanted to see t he Book –their salvation. He never doubted his decisions before.
Why start now , he thought?

Simeon returned from his musings, realizing that he had rested one hand on the statue to support himself. The burst of magic his anger had set off had weakened him .

I will head straight to the Main Gate and sort this out once and for all. But what if she had been here? Should I chase after her, now she ha s the Book?
He tossed his hands in the air.
It d oes n’t make sense, I ha ve just sent her a letter with the Spells locations. She didn’t need the book!

“My Shame,” he muttered. “Have you come back to haunt me?” He shook his head slowly, resting one hand on the smooth face of the statue of his long dead wife. “Ou r shame,” he said even quieter.

In one flash movement he pulled his hand free, turned, and walked with purpose, heading through the protective barrier to exit the hidden cham ber. Gone was the frail old man. He had to keep up appearances for everyone else’s sake, regardless of how or what he felt.

The runes around his robe hem flashed fiery red, crackling with power, instead of the sky blue they should have been, as the rune magic inscribed in the lettering lifted the magical field. The force caught him by complete surprise, tossing his frail old body backwards, crashing him into the stone statue. Simeon ’s body lay limp and unmoving over the blood splattered dais.

Chapter Nine

NIGHT WATCH

T
he strange collection of the three main species had been traveling for the best part o f the day, during the scorching heat. The route was widely used and was easy to follow, so the elf’s tracking skills w ere not needed.

Leinthren trailed along behind, singing happily to himself, while randomly talking to passing bushes and rocks, and occasionally falling into a ditch or hole. On a few occasions , when he had gone silent for a little too long, one of them would turn around and notice he had fallen flat on his face some distance back, and was just laid face down on the ground – snoring. They had wasted countless miles while sorting out the drunken elf.

Pramos –while it was the dwarfs turn to look after the drunk –had tried countless times to get Minika to join him in idle banter. All to no avail. He gave up after one conversation, while he was talking about how much water could be harvested from a tubular tree, when she had simply turned and commented on how she was amazed that his lips weren’t chapped, due to them forever flapping. He took the hint.

Whil e they had been walking –wh en he wasn’t trying to strike up a conversation – he had been collecting different dry plants and roots, to supplement the supplies they had brought with them. In the desert you can never have too many provisions.

They found a small spring, just before dusk, and Pramos used a cloth mesh he always carried to filter clean water into their drinking containers. He could have let Minika use her magic to replicate more water, but each time she used her magic, even for something trivial, it weakened her. Besides, Droncin pointed out he would rather drink muddy water, or lick it from a dirty rocks surface than drink anything produced by magic. They asked the elf his opinion but he simply started at them cross-eyed.

Droncin, who was a remarkable lookout and hunter, had been walking up front, checking for ambushes and traps. Because it was a main road from the village to the city, it was most prayed upon by demons and other unsavory beasts. It had been way too quiet for way to o long. He had been itching all day to get some blood on his axe.

Demon blood was good for polishing metal; it gave it a dark sheen. The metal became darker with every kill. It was almost a sign of position, the darker your axe, the more you fought and survived. The legendary king Dracko’s axe, at the midnight Battle of Tarnac, was supposedly so dark that the beas ts wouldn’t even see it coming.

Minika simply walked as if the heat and dust didn’t affect her in the slightest. She didn’t even seem to sweat. She had so much going on in her mind. Going over and over the letter. The words use, and unused. Once she got to the city of Keep Safe, she would use their communication Sphere to talk to the Council of Seven ’s leader, Simeon – her father.

*

The nights were always cold, bordering on freezing just before dawn.

Pramos had built a large fire, with the dwarfs help. Even though he was the smallest, the dwarf was by far the strongest of the group. He w a ndered back with arms full of dry logs and whatever he could find that would burn ; and in the wastelands that wasn’t much.

The fire was built up against a cliffs overhang. They were on the highest elevated point they could find, using it for protection and a better view across the desert below. The rock face minimized the directions they could be attacked from, and the sheer rock radiated heat back from the fire.

Pramos sat staring into the flickering flames. His bedding was laid out close to the fire, right next to Minika’s, without being rude or intrusive. He kept f lashing sideways glances at her to check what she was doing. All the while he sharpened his short sword, or more aptly, a long dagger. It was one of his most prized possessions. He found it many years ago on one of his gathering expeditions. The skeleton he took it from wouldn’t need it any more. He just hoped when the time came he would be better at wielding it than its last owner. He also began wondering if he had it on him the morning before –when he ran in to the Tigerman –would he have attacked straight away. He put the thought from his mind.

“Give it to me,” Minika said without even turning her head.

“Pardon?”

Instead of repeating what she had already said, the mag us just gently snatched the short sword from Pramos ’ hand . Then reaching into the flames she took out a short stick that had a burning end. Then carefully, and precisely, she started to write runes down the center of the blade. When she finished one side, silently she flipped it over and repeated the process again.

Pramos sat transfixed. The runes are an ancient written form that only the magi had mastered. They carried great power, and is the source of all their magical abilities.

Once she had finished she check ed both sides for unity, then passed it back.

Pramos held it at arms length. The runes were still glowing a fierce red colo ur . But as he watched they started to fade, leaving the runes engraved into the metal.

“The runes will keep the blade for ever sharp. Sharper than you could ever achieve by rubbing it on stone or leather.” Minika retu r ned to what she was doing before. Then as an after though she raised her head towards the dwarf. “I would offer you the same, but I know you would decline.”

Droncin had his axe handle between his boots, and was rubbing the blade with two different types of oil. He si mply nodded his understanding.

Leinthren was already asleep. After pulling out a very thin, intricately laced blanket, and laying it out on the ground, he had fallen in t o a deep, thankfully snore-less sleep within minutes of setting up camp. Elf’s, being cold blooded, didn’t need thick blankets at night, due to not feeling the cold. They simply accepted any temperature without complaint, and apparent feeling. And, of course, not feeling the cold, apart from a blanket to shield them from the dusty ground, they used no other sleeping equipment. They didn’t like the feeling of being smothered.

A pot boiled softly over the flames with a co llection of wild onions and herb s, and a handful of skinned and boned leaping lizards. Once a nest had been found it was simply a matter of standing next to the hole and slamming a boot on the ground. The strange little jumping lizards then leaped around, to distract predators. You simply plucked them out of the air.

Droncin wasn’t too impressed, saying it wasn’t real hunting, just trickery. Even though he hadn’t caught any larger game himself.

“I will take first watch,” Droncin said.

“I second,” Minika said, to everyone’s amazement. They didn’t expect the mag us to do such a menial task.

Pramos looked down at the elf. “I will finish the night watch off.”

The night was bitterly cold and way too quiet , a s if something huge was hunting in the wilderness and everything, demon included, w as hiding in the deepest caves.

They finished their meal and started preparing for a night under the stars.

Pramos walked over to the lip of the cliff. He looked up. The stars shined like a billion crushed diamonds. The full moon was huge and bulbous, taking up a large section of the horizon.

Pramos stood with his feet wide apart and raised his hands as high and wide as he could, while trying to fill the whole circle of the moon. He used to do this with his brother. Janos was much taller so he could reach that little bit further. He missed his brother so much he couldn’t put it into words.

When he turned he noticed the dwarf stood to one side, watching him.

“It’s best if we all stay close together.” The dwarf stated. He didn’t ask the human what he was doing stood like a starfish.

Without a word Promas wandered back to his bedding.

Greybeard watched as Promas settled down for a few hours sleep before his watch started.

Humans are so strange, the dwarf mused. He then removed his flask of oil and settled down on a boulder. With slow purposeful strokes he started to oil his axe blade.

*

Not too far away Slis and Qwat sat hunched together in a shallow cave.

Slis was trying to keep warm by completely wrapping himself around Qwat, whose body was like a furnace. Qwat’s mouth was almost as wide as his square head , which simply dropped into a huge gullet. Smoke was always rising from between his flat , square, grinding teeth.

Qwat survived on rocks, the more mineral deposits the better, but generally any stone composition would do. Hence, he was never hungry; stones of some description were always available. If the worse came to the worse, he could live on sand; he simply wouldn’t need to chew it.