The Keystone Staff



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  To Christine Hoang.

  Chapter One: Jorthen

  The Aeonlith hovered in the great hall.

  Eight stories tall and blood-red, the stone resembled a blade balanced on its tip, defying the known laws of nature. Jorthen wondered where the stone came from as he felt its power flow through, giving him goose-flesh. His order believed it was given to them by the Gods to drive out the Necromages during the ancient times. Stories to frighten children, he thought.

  He walked up the helix shaped stairway that spiralled around the Aeonlith in the Eastern Tower of the Citadel. The cream-colored stone interior of the great hall rose ten stories to a vaulted ceiling with a gallery overlooking the giant stone. The morning light poured in through the windows and refracted off the Aeonlith, bathing the hall in a blood-red glow. Jorthen's jewel encrusted staff tapped against the steps as he continued to climb the stairs.

  His golden hair had only begun to show streaks of white while his beard had become almost entirely gray. His skin was thick and lined from the sun and his red leather armor was worn and scuffed. He reached the gallery, looked down upon the Aeonlith and shivered. A sentinel walked up to him and guided him through the door to the waiting High Council.

  Inside the circular room, the twelve member council flanked a throne where the Preceptor should have been found. Instead, Preceptor Fanlorn stood in the center of the chamber with his staff in hand. He stood over six feet tall with a shock of white hair and dark eyes. His face wrinkled like old parchment but he stood as straight as an arrow.

  "Welcome," he said.

  Jorthen walked towards him in the center of the chamber. The Preceptor swept his hands towards the elders of the council, motioning him to speak, and patrolled the auditorium's circumference.

  "Fellow Wardens and members of the High Council," Jorthen said above the murmur. "I come before you to ask permission to seek the Keystone Staff."

  The council fell silent, leaving only the steady tap-tap-tap of the Preceptor's staff as he circled the room. Jorthen looked toward him but the Preceptor continued to circle the room.

  "Are you informing us you know of the whereabouts of the Keystone Staff?" asked a council member.

  "My work with the bibliothecary, Luindre, has yielded the locations of many of the ancient and rare stones located around the world. We believe that we've identified the region where it might have been lost after the War of the Heavens."

  Jorthen paused. Here we go.

  "It is in Qattan."

  The room erupted into a roar as a debate between council members burst forth. A few called for a division of Wardens to invade while the others considered it far too risky to enter the Elderlands. The rest were suspicious the staff could be in Qattan at all. Preceptor Fanlorn thumped his staff on the chamber floor, causing one of many stones to brighten and then dim. The room silenced again.

  "We cannot invade the Elderlands without committing the Protectorates to all out war," Fanlorn said still circling the room. "But, the Keystone Staff is one of our holiest relics and should be recovered. Do you have another way?"

  "I do. I've traveled the world over and have earned the trust of a few... colorful acquaintances. One of which is an airship captain whose ship is berthed in our city's harbor as we speak. He can get me inside the walls of Qattan and from there I can search for the Keystone Staff."

  "And you expect us to allow you to go alone?" asked a council member.

  "I know the captain of the airship well but persuading him to take me south of the Disc Sea will take much convincing. Try to persuade him to smuggle even a small team of Wardens?" Jorthen shook his head. "I can assure you, is folly."

  "He sounds untrustworthy."

  "Colorful. Unfortunately, I will need someone with far more knowledge of Qattan and the Keystone Staff itself to locate its precise position." Jorthen looked around the room. "Thus, I would ask the council to allow the bibliothecary, Luindre, to accompany me on my journey."

  "Luindre is too old to travel," Fanlorn said.

  "His expertise is required to retrieve the staff. The records we are working from are damaged and incomplete and no one knows them better than he."

  "I'm sorry, but what you ask is impossible. You will have to make do-"

  "What of his assistant?"

  The Preceptor stopped circling the room and stood between Jorthen and the throne. Fanlorn turned to face him. Jorthen could tell the Preceptor was appraising the situation before offering a response.

  "Her gift from the Aeon is weak, and she has never left the Citadel."

  "But if she is to continue Luindre's work once he's passed, should she not see at least part of the world?"

  Fanlorn paused. She is young and inexperienced. Her first foray into the outside world should not be to a place where Wardens are executed on the spot, Jorthen thought. But that cannot be helped. Fanlorn walked to his throne and sat down.

  "Let the council choose," the Preceptor said. "All in favor of Jorthen recovering the Keystone Staff, say aye."

  The council was in unanimous agreement.

  "Those in favor of the acolyte, Kera, to accompany him, say aye." Only seven members gave their support, but it was enough.

  "The council has spoken. Jorthen, you are charged with the retrieval of the Keystone Staff by the High Council of the Wardens of Aeon. Accompanying you will be the acolyte Kera whose knowledge may help you find the staff. Go."

  "Thank you, High Council, for seeing me and allowing me to serve Aeon."

  Jorthen turned and left the room. He walked to the edge of the gallery and looked down upon the Aeonlith, goose-flesh once again crawling along his arm. He stepped away from the overlook and made his way along the spiral staircase to the ground floor.

  He smiled. I got everything I wanted. Jorthen went to gather his belongings.

  Chapter Two: Kera

  Kera swept her pole underneath the young man, knocking him to the floor. She pointed the rod at his head and he raised his hands in surrender.

  She helped him up as an older man with long jet black hair walked towards the two. Kera bowed to the man as he waved off her opponent, dismissing him.

  "You've improved," he said.

  "Thank you, teacher Jin."

  "I still don't understand why a Warden of Aeon would want to learn the art of Kunsdt if she's able to spew fire from her staff."

  "Most Wardens rely far too much on Magick. I spend much of my day pouring through old documents so it's nice to get a stretch."

  It wasn't exactly a lie. Like all Wardens, she has been properly trained to use Lenstones since she was a child. She could produce a flame with a Firegem but she would be lucky if it were any larger than a candle's flame. She only carried a rarely used white Luminstone pendant she kept around her neck, hidden under her crimson shawl.

  The truth was that she enjoyed the physical exertion. It also gave her a reason to walk through Valtan City's streets and a reprieve from her work at the Citadel.

  Jin handed her a parchment. "A messenger came for you as you were sparring."

  Kera unraveled the long red braid from the bun she had pinned to the back of her head. Her golden eyes scanned the message. The letter was from the High Council informing her of her new instructions.

  "I need to go," she said, bowing to her instructor. He bowed in return as she handed him the training pole and hurried out the door.

/>   ***

  There must have been a mistake, Kera thought as she rushed into the athenaeum.

  Kera could remember the first time she arrived at the library to meet Luindre after her induction into the order of Wardens. He requested her after the induction ceremony showed her gift from the Aeon to be low. It was a relief at the time since she was certain she would have been turned out onto the streets of Valtan City. Like most Wardens of Aeon, she was inducted when she was just a baby and had no recollection of her parents or the home she was born in.

  The athenaeum was a musty old library in the northern tower of the Citadel that Luindre spent decades restoring. There were other bibliothecaries over the centuries, to be sure. But they were few and less concerned with preserving these tomes for the next generation. Luindre sat at his desk, as he did every day, this time reproducing an ancient tome on nightshades that had fallen apart.

  "Did you know?" she asked. "They're sending me away."

  Luindre put his quill back into the inkwell and stood up from his desk. His back hunched from years of toiling over scrolls and volumes of encyclopedia. His skin was thin with deep wrinkles that crisscrossed his gaunt face. Wisps of white hair hung from his scalp but his eyes were as black as the night sky. Kera offered him her arm. He was becoming more frail each passing day, though his mind remained sharp.

  "Do you know why I asked for you to be my assistant here?"

  "Because you need someone to continue your work when you pass," she recited from memory.

  "And what work is that?"

  "To keep all our records intact."

  "Why?"

  Kera hesitated, she was at a loss for words. This was a conversation the two of them had so many times it became a mantra. But never had he asked why. Luindre may be an old man but he was also a sly old fox. Kera wouldn't put it past him to have written this exchange years ago expecting this day to come.

  "I spent many years traveling the world from the Freehold to the Dragonlands and learned much along the way," Luindre said. "I added passages to many of the books in this library and corrected others. My work may be small compared to the entire library but even adding a fraction of knowledge is as important as retaining it. You can spend your whole life in here restoring and illuminating these works but it's just as important to add to them."

  Kera's eyes narrowed. "You knew Jorthen would take me on his quest, didn't you?"

  Luindre smiled again. Jorthen and her master had long worked together to uncover many lost relics and stones but the Warden had never paid much attention to her. The few times he had spoken to her he had been curt and dismissive. She often wondered if she had offended him in the past and was never forgiven for the slight.

  Now she would be stuck on airship thousands of feet in the air with him. She recalled the last time she tried to fly via a rare Aerostone. All her intense concentration got her, however, was two feet up into the air and a broken ankle seconds later. She concluded that man was not meant to fly. Or at least she wasn't meant to.

  "Where does the Council want me to go? All I was told is that I am to board an airship on the morrow," she asked.

  "Jorthen and I have tracked down the Keystone Staff and we think it may be in Qattan," he answered. "The Council, in all their wisdom, decided I may be too frail to make the journey."

  "Qattan? Wardens are forbidden in the Elderlands! They'll execute us!"

  "Only if they catch you." Luindre guided her towards the alcove where most of the information regarding the Keystone Staff was held. She had restored and reproduced much of the material on these shelves over the last few years and a good deal contradicted itself. Some of the works insisted that it was the shape of the staff itself which gave the Keystone its awesome power. Other volumes dismissed the staff as not being of any importance. The Keystone itself was either normal material crafted in a unique way or a jewel that fell from the heavens. Or even a piece broken off the Aeonlith itself. Whatever the truth, one thing that every book, scroll and scrap of parchment agreed upon was that it was powerful for a Warden to wield.

  "Take whatever books you may require for the journey," Luindre said. "But remember you'll be traveling by air. Airship captains are discerning about the weight you bring onto their vessels."

  "Do you know anything about this captain?" Kera asked.

  "Only that his name is Captain Fitch and Jorthen has chartered him from time to time."

  Kera scanned the books and scrolls on the shelves and decided on four she should take with her, placing them on a cart. They rolled it back to Luindre's desk where he handed her a fifth book titled Gornen's Account of the Final Stand in the War of the Heavens.

  "Can we trust him?" she asked. "The captain, I mean. What if he betrays us to the Elderlands?"

  "What is the first lesson I ever taught you?"

  "Question everything. Assume nothing."

  "Trust is earned, it cannot be given. I've tried my best to teach you of the wonder and horror beyond our city walls but nothing will teach you quite like experience. So question everything when you travel."

  "But I can trust Jorthen?"

  "Oh no, you should question him the most."

  Luindre sat at his desk, dipped his quill in ink and continued his work. That would be all she was to get out of him. Kera resigned to continue her work on a manuscript that told of the myth of the Necromages during the ancient times. She had only begun last week but it gave her something to look forward to when she got back to the Citadel. The farthest she had ever ventured was the city walls. By tomorrow she would travel south across the Disc Sea and to a land unified by one thing: their hatred for the Wardens of Aeon.

  Chapter Three: Fitch

  The trade winds were blowing towards the south and Fitch had just about had it with his Warden associate. Two days he waited aboard his ship in Valtan Harbor and he would be damned if he stayed a third.

  Jorthen had been a useful ally to have on occasion, getting the Silent Star through certain ports in the Protectorate states without inspection. In return, Fitch had been willing to give the Warden free passage whenever they were going in the same direction. Never had he expected they would go to Qattan. The unified Elderlands had expelled the Wardens of Aeon two decades ago from their lands. It was the head of anyone who smuggled them into their territory.

  He stroked his unkept black beard. I need a drink, he thought.

  Valtan Harbor was a center of trade and commerce in the Protectorates but it was impossible to find a good and affordable stein of mead. While not illegal within the walls of the city, the Wardens abstained from drinking alcohol. They preferred to be clear-headed and the people of the city weren't officially allowed to import it. That always left a little leeway for enterprising young captains to sell grog to the citizens of Valtan for "private use" at extravagant prices. He hated the stuff. Fitch had his own supply of wine, which he drank in his cabin. But what was the point of traveling across the world just to lock yourself in your own room drinking your own wine? I need to get some air.

  He threw on his heavy green coat and headed out of his room. The Silent Star's hallways were made of balsa wood, much like the rest of the ship. He walked down the central corridor of the ship's upper-decks and approached one of the hoists. He stepped into the wooden carriage and pressed the lever on his right and descended through the bowels of the ship.

  Most of the Silent Star was an open cavity filled with gasbags that kept the ship afloat and separated the upper-decks from the lower. Underneath the gasbags were the cargo holds whose giant doors opened downwards like a ramp. The carriage lowered itself between two of these bags and came to a stop once he reached the lower levels.

  He stepped out of the carriage and down the incline of the open freight hatch towards Valtan City's harbor. The Silent Star stretched over 300 feet in ea
ch direction behind him, shaped like a giant white cigar with sails protruding from the hull. At the edge of the cargo ramp, sitting atop a crate, was a short young woman with pale skin and black shoulder length locks. The fringe of her hair framed her pale blue eyes. Her young round face had yet to shed its cherubic features.

  "What's the word, Captain?" she asked.

  "I hate this place, Vessa," Fitch said. "Make sure the crew is ready to fly at a moment's notice."

  "We leaving today?"

  Before Fitch could respond, there he was: Warden Jorthen making his way down the dock. Jorthen usually packed light but today he had a young redheaded companion in a maroon robe carrying a second bag for him. She looks terrified, Fitch thought before he realized the woman wasn't carrying a second bag for Jorthen at all. She was carrying her own belongings. Fitch rushed down the rest of the cargo ramp and down the dock to meet the pair.

  "Oh no," he said. "No no no no! No, you are not taking her with you! One of you is bad enough!"

  "I need her with me," Jorthen replied as he continued to walk up to Fitch.

  "Like hell you do! You need a ship more than you need her and I need the both of you like a sword through my neck!"

  Jorthen brushed past him with his companion girl trailing behind like a puppy on a leash tethered to her master. He followed the two Wardens as they approached the cargo ramp. Vessa pounced from her crate, ready to lunge on the two Wardens but Fitch waved her away.

  "What? Are you going to board my ship and fly it yourself? She's running pretty low on funny air so I'd be surprised if you made it across the Disc Sea. And how do you think the Freehold would take to a Warden of Aeon commandeering an airship? Or are your people just trying to piss off every nation on the planet?"