Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

---o---

Celia had both dreamed of this day and dreaded it at the
same time.  It was her sixteenth birthing day, a day she legally became a
woman, a day when she can choose her path in life if she so desires. 

Most think that she will choose to marry Branton, her long
time sweetheart, and heir to the Saterleen fortune.  This would make her the
second wealthiest woman in the Republic of Cartondan, envied by all, equalled
by only a few.  It is tempting, to accept that possibility, to live the life of
privilege, her every want taken care of by a bevy of servants, to spend her
life by the side of a good friend.  Her parents, Horst and Lileean Wurthaven,
would be proud to be connected to the Saterleens, and in fact, her father encouraged
the match.  Even though her family was wealthy in its own right, with the
marble quarry located on its hillside estate, they were not Saterleen wealthy. 
The only problem was, while her and Branton were close friends, she did not
love him, nor he her.  Branton was in love with another girl from a neighboring
town, and wanted to spend his days painting, not running the family business. 
They had spent many evenings talking quietly about these things as only close
friends can, with no judgement, only acceptance.

She felt that it was fun to let the possibilities linger in
her mind as they occurred; she could join the Daughters of Saveesha as a
priestess and gain high honor by serving the Church; or she could become a
Sister of Jenavin, and as a priestess of knowledge help guide the Senate,
gaining honor through service to the government.  Her father would also accept
it if she chose not to marry Branton, but instead chose to join her father in
running the family business.  He wouldn't be extremely happy, but he would
accept it. 

Both of her brothers had died young; her older brother
Brucen from the coughing sickness when he was but three years old, and her
younger brother Waynten when he tried jumping into the old quarry pond from a
high ledge and hit his head, causing him to black out and drown when he was
eight.  She was too young to have known Brucen, just to hear the stories over
the years, but she was as devastated as her parents when Waynten was killed. 
Therefore, she was the only Wurthaven left to be able to inherit the marble
quarry and the distribution business, other than her uncle Yohan.  And her
father and uncle Yohan had had a falling out, and had not spoken in years.

However, none of those choices were true to her heart; to
what she felt was her life's calling.  It was a secret she told no other, not
even Branton on those quiet evenings of whispered words.  She told no one,
because if it ever slipped out, her father would find a way to destroy that
option and force her into one of the "acceptable" choices for the
rest of her life, and that she could not live with.  And now was the hour of
her choice, the hour that her life changed, for good or ill, forever.

She stood with many other sixteen year-olds in the back of
the choosing hall behind a heavy curtain, all nervous but full of energy. 
Branton was standing near her, but far enough apart to give her space.  He did
not know what her choice would be, other than he knew it would not be him,
since they had discussed his choice in some length.  Every time he brought the conversation
around to her choice, she would change the subject or distract him with some
question about the girl in the neighboring town that he loved.

Soon it was time for them all to be presented to the Hall. 
There were not a lot of people in the amphitheatre, mainly the families of all
the sixteen year-olds seated in the second row and further back.  The first row
was reserved for the members of all the Guilds; the Registrars of Marriage; the
Heads of all five religions were represented; the Sons of Voral the Father, the
Daughters of Saveesha the Mother, the Sisters of Jenavin, and Brothers of both
Benraw and Kristor; and finally, a representative of the Dar'Shilaar from Mahad'avor. 

As they stepped forward as a group to be called in order of
last name, she snuck a peek at the latter.  The man looked quite elderly, with
a long white beard, disheveled purple robes, and matching pointed hat, slightly
askew.  A staff leaned against the wall near him, a green stone glowing lightly
at the top.  He appeared to be looking about in bewilderment, smiling wildly to
everyone, seemingly unaware of what was happening or why he was here on this
particular day.  As Celia watched him surreptitiously, he locked his gaze with
hers for a brief moment and winked before returning to his befuddled amusement.

She watched as one teen after another stepped forward as
called and indicated their choice.  She watched as her friend Selenity stepped
forward with Rollard, her long time crush, and announced that they were seeking
the Rite of Marriage.  Celia looked into the stands to see both sets of parents
and siblings, already sitting with each other smile proudly and clasp hands all
around.  Others were called forward, most following the logical choice, or the wish
or their parents, but not all. 

A boy she didn't know well, but knew to be a bully, chose to
join the Brothers of Benraw, to the weeping of his mother and shocked look of
his father.  It was unusual, and almost unheard of for the God of Chaos, War, and
Destruction to have anyone join from the Republic of Cartondan.  In fact, Celia
couldn't remember a year when that choice was made.  She was sure it would be
the talk of town for the next decade, so knew she would have heard about it if
it had happened before this.

Next up was Branton, who paused after being called.  He
looked up at his parents, and Celia could tell he was nervous, but knew his
decision to join the Painter's Guild was what his heart wanted.  So when he
called out his decision to join the Merchant's Guild and help with the family
business, she was dumbfounded.  He left the stage with his head down, his
shoulders slumped.  Celia looked up at her parents to find a frown on her
father's face, but understanding on her mother's.  A mother always knew.

A few more teens went up to declare their Choice, but Celia
took in none of it, focusing on her decision, worrying about whether she could
go through with it or not. 
Could she disappoint her parents?  But could she
live with a decision that was not her own?
 

And finally it was her turn.  She stepped forward to the
front of the stage and looked at all the various groups represented at the
front of the room, looking each one in the eye before moving on to the next. 
Finally her gaze landed on the Dar'Shilaar, his gaze intense, looking through
her to her very soul.  She paused, and watched as he nodded slightly at her,
amused expression gone.

Immediately after the words were out of her mouth, she heard
her father shout, and her mother gasp as the rest of the hall went silent as a
tomb.  Celia could not hear the exact words that her father was shouting at her
over the blood pounding in her ears. 
She had done it!  She had made the
choice that she wanted, chosen the life solely for her.
  She was going to
become a Dar'Shilaar, a wielder of magic!

She stepped off the stage and was met by the Dar'Shilaar as
he stood to greet her.  He took her hand and kissed it gently.  "Welcome
to the ranks of the Dar'Shilaar Celia.  You have the rest of the afternoon and
this evening to say goodbye to your family and friends and pack your things.  We
leave in the morning."

By this point the two remaining teens had made their choice
and the ceremony was starting to break up, families hugging and shaking hands,
some of the teens, including Branton, sitting with the Guild members at the
tables provided at the side of the room, reading through the guild charters and
contracts.  Celia watched as her father stormed down the stepped side aisle,
and brushed past the elderly Dar'Shilaar to grab her arm roughly.  Her mother
trailed a few feet behind, with an apologetic half smile on her face.

"What are you thinking young lady?!" he nearly
shouted, drawing stares from some of the others in the hall.  "You knew my
wishes, and yet you still defy me!"

"But what of my wishes father?" Celia responded
quietly, almost meekly.

"Your wishes are none of my concern!" he stated
angrily, trembling in rage.  "You must change your decision, and do it
now.  If you do not, I will disown you, and you will never be able to use the
Wurthaven name again!"

"But sir, her choice has been made," the elderly Dar'Shilaar
interjected, "and cannot be undone.  As a member of the Dar'Shilaar she
will not need the use of your surname any further.  She will be known from this
point forward only as Celia Shilaar, the same as all of our members.  Family names
are given up as a requirement."

This statement made her father even angrier, if that was
possible.  She could see that he was a short time from losing control, but she
watched as he buried it deep down and regained some composure.

Her mother touched her father on the shoulder and stepped up
slightly.  "Well, come home and have dinner with us tonight after you get
your things packed, and we'll talk about this some before you leave in the
morning."

"There's nothing to talk about.  She's made her
decision and must live with the consequences - she can come home and get packed
and leave immediately."  Her father's words were without emotion, said
only as a fact.  Her mother had tears in her eyes, but did not sob.  She was a
strong woman, Celia knew; after all, she was married to her father.

"Well then, that's settled," said the elderly
Shilaar.  "Meet me at the Gilded Pear Inn on Farthing Way when you have
your things together and we'll leave promptly.  He turned and ambled from the
hall, bumping into several of the stragglers, apologizing with a wide smile and
vacant eyes.

The carriage ride home was oppressively silent, no one
looking at each other, but out the window at the buildings and people streaming
past.  Finally the buildings gave way and they passed through the wall and left
the city on their way to their estate in the hills.

Once home, she bolted from the carriage and went straight to
her room and gathered her few things, several of her newest changes of
clothing, her two favorite books, her travelling boots, cloak and the ring her
mother gave her.  A few other sundries ended up in the pack as well, things
with a practical purpose like her sewing kit, comb, and brush.

She then went down and met her mother at the front door. 
Her mother hugged her and said, "You may take the carriage back to town
-"

"No, she may not!  If she doesn't want to be a
Wurthaven any more, then it can start now!" her father did not look at her
as he addressed her mother.  He then turned his scowl towards Celia, "You
may walk to town.  In fact, you are no longer welcome in this house."  He
held the door open for her.

She could see tears in her mother's eyes as she gave Celia
one last hug.  Seeing them caused tears to well up in hers and Celia fought
hard not to sob uncontrollably.  She managed to hold out until she reached the
main road to town. 

Hoyle stood against the worshyr tree, at the top of the
cleft in the rock, outside the ring of firelight.  He could hear Celia sobbing
quietly below through Robart's broken snoring, and could see her form curled up
in a ball as she slept. 
She must be having a nightmare.  Wonder what it's
about? 
It surprised him that he cared enough for even that thought.  He
had been trying to be as hard emotionally as he could ever since he got out of
the Imperial Sky Citadel.  He knew it was a defense mechanism, but he had
consciously chosen it.  Now he found himself caring, even if it was just a
little bit, and began to worry.

Suddenly something triggered the tingling at the base of his
neck.  He wasn't sure what had done it, but he now paid even more attention to
his surroundings. 
Had he heard a stick snap, or was it that something
brushed a branch nearby?
  Something was nearby, and he had to assume it was
not friendly.  He whistled a bird call into the night, pulled his cloak tighter
around him, and slid back against the trunk of the tree.  Almost immediately a
chest-high shape moved past the tree, stick thin in the darkness, moving toward
their camp.

He waited as several more of the figures moved past his
hiding spot.  He could see more figures on the far side of the cleft in the
rock, looking down on his sleeping companions.  They were little over a pace
tall, with white bark-like skin, and thin, branch-like limbs.  Their heads were
narrow, wide at the top, tapering to a point at the chin.  The tops of their
heads looked like broken trees, with sharp edges sticking up in all
directions.  The creatures had eyes that glowed red in the firelight, and carried
crude weapons, mostly spears that were no more than sharpened sticks.  Several creatures
had thicker club-like branches, and one carried a club made from a stone wedged
into the end of a branch.  They all seemed to be carrying a length of vine or
course rope in a loop over their shoulders.

Hoyle made a rough count, and figured more than thirty now
surrounded their camp, and he could hear more behind him in the darkness.  If
he moved now, or made a sound, he would be discovered.  He could only hope
Salrissa heard his bird call and made it to safety, as he couldn't see the camp
clearly from this vantage point and moving even slightly was not an option.

The creatures chittered away in their strange language, and
began yelling and screaming as they ambushed Hoyle's companions.  He heard
yells of surprise from his companions below and loud swearing from Robart as
the creatures descended on the camp.  Hoyle heard a "
Cravash
"
from Celia and a squeal that must have come from one of the creatures, and then
the firelight suddenly died.  There were additional brief sounds of combat, but
they ended as quickly as they started, as outnumbered as they were.  More
creatures were still milling around the top of the cleft, so close that he
could reach out and touch one if he so wished.  Assuming he was stupid and
wanted to die or be captured.

He watched in the light of the waning crescent moon as the
creatures herded the rest of the group up and out of the cleft, hands tied behind
them and elbows bound tight.  They were being prodded with the spears the
creatures carried.  In the near darkness, he could see four shapes, meaning
they had managed to capture Salrissa, which meant there were more of them than
he thought. 
Seven Hells!
 

He waited until he was sure the creatures were gone before
he began to follow.  In the city, he could follow anyone unseen and unheard,
but out here it was a different situation.  He was not a woodsman; he knew that
he was going to make more noise than he wanted to, and if he stayed too close
to the stick creatures, they would catch him.  However, he couldn't let them
get too far ahead, because he did not know how to track them if they did.

He stepped out of his hiding space cautiously, and began to move
in the direction they had gone.

---o---

After what Hoyle figured to be just more than a bell, based
on the position of the moon in the sky, he came over a rise and saw firelight
through the trees below.  He dropped to his stomach, his instincts telling him
that there would be sentries.  He watched the shadows carefully, and saw one
just off the path to his right, and another one far to the left.  The rise he
was laying on was fairly gentle, with the trees spaced apart in this alpine
meadow, but the dead winter grass was almost to his waist. 

Below the rise, the trees began to clump together in a small
ravine that appeared to have a small creek running through it.  He could only
see shadowy shapes moving through the trees against the faint firelight, but he
could still hear Robart grumbling and cursing, throwing in a threat every now
and again.  It was his voice that allowed Hoyle to follow the raiding party
from quite a distance back.  The creatures had tried to silence him, but had so
far been unsuccessful.

There was more of a scuffle in the clearing, and he noted
that the creature closest to him turned toward the commotion.  Hoyle took his
chance and moved down the slope, alternately sliding and crawling on his elbows
until he was at the next tree over from the stick-like figure.  Then, stepping
carefully, he edged around the pine tree and stalked towards his target in a
crouch.  He carefully slid his stiletto out of its sheath at his belt as he
managed to step up behind it silently.  He quickly put his hand over the
creature's mouth and slid his stiletto into the creature's back through the
thick, bark-like skin.  The creature twitched several times before it died. 
Hoyle laid the body down in the grass, and rolled it under the branches of the
tree it was standing next to.

He stayed low in the grass and looked toward where he had
positioned the other sentry and noticed the creature still there, almost hidden
in the high brittle grass.  He decided to leave him be for now and worked his
way down the slope to the closest copse of trees.  As he reached the trees
screening his view, he could see there was a fairly steep drop-off, and noticed
a small winding trail that switched back down the incline to the ravine below. 
Several more guards were stationed along the path.

Through the bare tree branches, he could see the creatures
knock his companions to the ground on the far side of the small stream in front
of a small cave opening.  Most of the creatures from the raiding party
surrounded their captives in a semi-circle facing the cave.  He noticed several
others moving around the ravine, tending fires, cooking meat on sticks, weaving
strips of dried grass, and other more mundane tasks.  This must be their home.

Two of the chest-high creatures entered the cave opening and
returned after several minutes leading a larger creature.  This creature was
not the same as the stick-like creatures.  This creature had green and brown
mottled skin, with boils and warts all over.  Its hair was patchy and stuck out
in bristles all over its body like quills.  It was slightly smaller than
man-sized, possibly the same height as Valena though much more muscular, a head
taller than the stick creatures.  It was wearing a dirty, tattered loin cloth
and a necklace of ears around its neck.  It finished chewing on the cooked leg
of some creature and flung it to one side as it walked up to the captives. 
Hoyle noted a wicked looking axe in its other hand.  It appeared to be the
leader of the stick creatures.

As he watched, the leader walked over to the bound captives
and grabbed Salrissa by the chin.  He turned her face up to his, examining
her.  He did the same with the other two women, and then finally turned to
Robart.  He stayed farther back from the cursing, struggling man and had a conversation
in the strange language with several of the stick creatures.  They gestured
wildly at Robart while two others began to poke him with their spears, trying
to get him to settle down.  This just made Robart more riled and he thrashed
even harder against his bindings.  Finally the leader stood up from his
conversation, grabbed a heavy branch from one of the other creatures and
slammed it against Robart's skull three times before it knocked him
unconscious.

Several of the creatures grabbed Robart's still form and
dragged him into a small alcove in the rock.  Others forced the women to their
feet, and herded them into the alcove with Robart.  They were then stripped of
all their belongings, and forced to strip down to their small clothes.  Several
more creatures pushed a gate of woven thick branches across the alcove, and
then rolled a small boulder in front, effectively sealing them in.  The sides
of the alcove overhung two spans above, so they would not be able to climb
their way out.  Besides, their hands and elbows were still tied behind them.

Their stuff was put in a pile near a fire to one side, and
the leader started sorting through it.  He found Celia's amulet, with its
glowing azure stone, and was fascinated by it.  He turned it this way and that,
staring at it from every angle before finally putting it around his neck with
his necklace of ears.  One of the stick creatures was rummaging through the
other side of the pile and brought forth the violet magestone from the sky
skiff.  The glowing stone lit up that side of the ravine, casting weird shadows
and overpowering the firelight from the campfires.

The leader noticed the creature holding the stone and
reached over and took the stone away, smacking the creature in the head.  He
then turned and returned to his cave, leaving the rest of the items to the
stick creatures.  They rummaged through all their stuff, tossing it about as
they pulled it out of various pockets and packs.  One tried to lift Robart's
sword, and just about dropped it on another, nearly slicing him in two.  It
must have taken several of them to bring that back to camp.

Hoyle watched it all quietly as he tried to formulate a plan
to rescue the others.  There appeared to be only two ways into the ravine that
he could see, and once into the ravine, there was not a lot of cover. 
Apparently these creatures just lived and slept out in the open.  He guessed
that with bark-like skin, there probably was not much need for shelter.

The camp began to settle down as the moon was just setting
behind the mountains in the west and Hoyle had the beginnings of a plan.  His
choice was taken away from him, however, as he felt two spear points poking
into his back.  He carefully turned around to chittering of several stick
creatures as they prodded him repeatedly with their spears.  One reached forward
to relieve him of his rapier, but on instinct he turned his hip away and kicked
out at the chest-high creature, knocking it back several feet into his
companions. Seeing his chance, he turned and ran along the side of the ravine
in the near darkness, trying to find a way down to his companions.  Loud
screeching came from behind as the creatures untangled themselves and began to
chase after. 

A stick spear came streaking past his shoulder as he
frantically looked for a way down into the ravine.  Then he saw his chance as
he could just make out a break in the trees ahead, and what looked to be a
toppled trunk of an ancient woshyr tree.  He veered for the gap in the trees as
several more spears missed him to each side.  He chanced a glance back and saw
them chasing, their short legs managing to move at an amazing speed, and regardless
of the fact that he had a much longer stride, they were catching up to him.

Reaching the break in the trees, he dove, arms outstretched
for the toppled tree.  Just at that moment, he felt a spear pierce his left
calf in a shallow, but painful wound.  He still managed to snag the toppled
tree and swing around it, powering his legs into the swing which dislodged the
spear, the swing tossing him forward in a long arc over the small creek to the
other side of the narrow ravine.  As he landed however, his left leg buckled
from his wound and he dropped to his side in the gravel.  He managed to get
himself to his feet and started to work up the ravine, back to where his
friends were.  Soon the alarm was up in the camp, causing some of the creatures
to flee, while others came at him with all sorts of simple weapons - simple,
but no less deadly.

Hoyle drew his rapier and stiletto, and limped towards the
stick creatures assembling to attack him.  He could feel blood pooling in his
boot, and knew he had to get to his friends fast or he might soon be dead.  The
spears and clubs ahead of him did not give him pause.  He moved as quickly as
he could, and when they charged him, he twisted and turned, slicing through
stick spears with his rapier, then through a club handles with his stiletto. 
Every once in a while, he would kick out with his wounded leg, knocking one or
two of them back, gaining some precious space.  Finally he was through them,
near the main fire, most of the creatures backing away now weaponless.

He edged towards the cage holding his friends, facing the
stick creatures, looming over them in actuality.  They all stayed back a span
or more, realizing how effective his weapons were compared to theirs.  He faked
a lunge towards them, causing a weird gasping noise as the creatures flinched
backwards.  Hoyle smirked.

"I don't know if you can understand me, but if you can,
I am just going to collect my friends and leave."  He could not read the
expressions on their weird faces, but they seemed to grasp the situation.

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and lunged for the
side, but even with his instincts kicking in, his ankles were suddenly bound as
a set of bolas wound around them causing him to land hard on the ground,
dropping his rapier, which skittered out of reach.  He looked back as the
leader that he had seen earlier pulled on the rope tied to the bolas, dragging
him across the gravel and even further away from his weapon.  He reached down
to the rope with the stiletto he still grasped, but the leader was quicker, and
took three quick strides and smashed his club into the side of Hoyle's head.