The Dream

         “But sir, there are too many of them!” Brold cried to his superior.

Commander Sen looked down the hill at the approaching army and cursed to himself. He knew there were too many of them, but the king had demanded that he win. An unfair demand, but no less real. If he were to lose here he will have failed his king. There were more men who could fight still in the city, but they were too far to help them now. Sen took his eyes off the ferocious Dran army and looked down at the young man who was still looking up at him with eyes wide in terror. He was only a boy, twenty years at the most. Sen knew his family. He didn’t want to put them through losing another son to war. They had to win. “I know Brold, but we must win. The kind commands it.”

Brold swallowed hard, “Yes sir.”

Sen could see the look of utter terror on his face. He smiled down at him in reassurance. “Remember boy. We have Igama on our side, eight of them. It is not so hopeless.”

         Sen prayed that the words would prove to be true as he looked at the reassured look on Brold’s face. He knew he had just made the battle much more difficult. He had silently sworn to himself that he would return the boy to his family alive. He looked up the hill to the back of his company. There were perhaps a thousand men behind him, and behind them high up on the hillside stood the eight Igama, men and women who could wield the magic. They would be the deciding factor in this battle, not numbers. At least he hoped that would be the case. The enemy’s number was double theirs, though they were less trained in combat.

         The army drew nearer, come to the bottom of the hillside. This was a part of their strategy, to let them come up the hillside and wear themselves out on it. A man with sore legs cannot fight half as well as a man well rested, and they had camped out on the hill the night before. They were halfway up the hill, it was almost time. He raised his sword into the air and all talk among the company ceased. They had been waiting for this moment. Some had waited anxiously, others had dreaded it, but it was here. He looked back at his men and smiled. They were most of the way up the hill. It was time. “For Craell!” he shouted as he thrust his sword downward. He began to charge down the hill, and his men followed. They were fifty feet from the approaching army, thirty feet, ten feet. The armies collided.



~~~

King Craell sat in his throne fretting over the war that was being waged for his city, his advisor by his side. He knew his men were outnumbered, and it worried him. He could only hope that the Igama he had hired were enough to tip the scales in his favor. He looked over at his advisor. The man was an Igama himself, and a powerful one. Perhaps he should have sent him into the battle. No. He would never go. He served the king studiously, but was stubborn, and didn’t like war. He would never use his magic to hurt anyone. A good quality Craell had to admit, but not one that would win wars. As he was worrying about his men the door flew open.

         A man stumbled into the room, arm covered in blood. The king stood from his throne and looked down at his army’s commander in shock. “Sen, what happened?”

         The bloodied Sen looked up at his king and bowed, wincing at the pain in his arm. “It was all going according to plan my lord. We attacked with steel as the Igama launched fire into their numbers. Everything went great.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath.

         The king was confused, “Then what happened?”

         Sen smiled ironically, “We weren’t the only ones with Igama on our side. They had them, at least thirty. Once they released their magic we were done. They let many of us leave alive but wounded. To warn you.

         Niet, the Igama advisor leapt down from his seat at the king’s side and frowned. He went to the man’s side and pulled a blue stone from his pocket. “This is what you get for fighting a pointless war!” he yelled up at the king as he ran the stone over the man’s wounds. His arm began to glow blue, but nothing happened. “Damn!” he shouted. “It’s not strong enough!”

         “What do you mean it isn’t strong enough?” the king shouted, “This is my commander! You must heal him!” his voice had become somewhat nervous. Even the king feared to anger an Igama, but he knew in his heart that this Igama was a friend. He would do anything for his king.

         “It’s this stone, it simply isn’t enough, it is designed to heal shallow wounds, and that is all. This man has deep wounds, shallow wounds, bruises, broken bones, he is becoming ill from blood loss and infection and who knows what else is wrong with him. This stone simply isn’t enough, and all of the other healing stones are out on the battlefield treating the wounded there. This man should have stayed where he could have been healed.”

         Sen raised his head toward the Igama, and then toward the king, “I had to tell you; I had to deliver the message.”

         The king looked down at his commander, then at Niet, “So all of the stones are in battle?”

         “All of the ones that would help here, yes.”

         The king looked confused for a moment, then yelled, “Then make a new one!”

         Niet glared up at the king, then walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

~~~

Niet sat at his table with his head in his hands, starting at a transparent stone. His apprentice sat at his side staring at the same stone, wondering what his master was thinking. The stone was a perfect sphere that seemed to be made of glass. It was actually carved crystal, smoothed and cleared by a method that only select Igama knew. He sat contemplating the clear stone for hours, his apprentice watching him, begging to have some idea of what he was thinking. He knew what he was doing, he was contemplating the aspects of the stone, and how they could be changed to create the effect that he desired. As the apprentice sat watching his master in contemplation, he noticed the man’s face change from a look of deep concentration, to a frown. He had not found what he was looking for.

         The apprentice had a very basic understanding of how stones of magic were made, but not nearly enough to make one himself. The first step was to look into the stone, notice every quality and every flaw that it has to offer, and find a way to exploit them for your purpose. Some stones were better suited to be made into elementals, while some were more apt to be made for healing, or other uses.

         “What is the problem, master?” the apprentice finally spoke after hours of silence. He strove to learn the ways of the Igama. It was an interesting science, but it was also a great way to make money. People paid a lot for an Igama’s services.

         “I found the first step, Chael.” He replied worriedly.

         The apprentice, Chael was confused, “That is what you were looking for, is it not?”

         “This stone would be best suited as a weapon,” he sighed as he finally took his eyes off of the transparent sphere. “But it is the only one I have left. It will have to do. I will bend it to my purposes.”

         “Isn’t that dangerous?” Chael asked, “Doesn’t that make them unstable?”

         “I don’t have a choice!” Niet yelled, not truly angry at his apprentice, but at the situation that had been thrust upon him. “If I don’t do it the king will have my head! As many ill decisions as I have prevented him from making, this city would fall in an instant, but he is just stupid enough to do it. No. I must make do.” His voice had calmed and hinted at an ironic humor. He laughed morosely. “I will need some time.” Chael took this as a dismissal and left the room.

         He sat in the room adjacent for hours, training himself to use the magic. He let it course through him, letting it reach its peak, then releasing it out his palm, which he held upward. He controlled the flow of the magic, and in his mind could see its threads weaving this way and that in complex patterns. He twisted them around each other and made them spread out. He had great control for an apprentice at his level. Someday, he knew he would surpass his master. Niet saw it as well, and was filled with the kind of pride most never got to feel.

         After several hours had passed Chael heard movement from the room from which he had been dismissed. The door lurched open, and his master came wearily into the room. He could see the tired state of the man reflected in his eyes, which alternated between fully visible, and shyly hiding behind his lids. “I need sleep.” The man said simply, leaving the door open and heading to his bedroom.

         Chael watched him until he closed his bedroom door, and then peered into the room he had been working in. There on the table sat the stone. A perfect sphere, as it was before, only now it shone bright amber.

~~~

         Niet stood over the army’s commander and held out the yellow stone. Though it had shone brightly the night before, it was now dull, having cooled from its creation. He looked down on the man. The blood had been cleaned off of him, but the gashes remained, and his skin was white with blood loss. His arm was strapped to his side, the bone protruding through the skin. If something weren’t done soon, he would surely die of infection. The Igama’s attacks were clean, but the ride home certainly was not.

         Looking to his side, Niet saw his apprentice staring anxiously at the man. He had never been in battle before; he had never seen someone so close to death. He smiled to reassure the boy. “Assuming I did everything right last night, this should heal him. I put everything I had into this stone, and I believe it is the strongest I have ever created. He will be fine.” Chael continued to stare at the dying man as Niet spoke, but he nodded to show his attentiveness.

         Niet held the stone out over the man, let his hand hover over the center of his body, then channeled the magic within him. The stone began to glow once again as it had the night before, as he poured his power into it. Chael found his eyes distracted from the commander, and focusing instead on the stone. It was beautiful. Its light cast a golden sheen over everything in the room; it was as lovely as the most beautiful of sunrises. He could tell in that instant, how powerful the stone was.

         He looked back down at the commander and nearly gasped. Before his eyes the gashes in the man’s body closed themselves, the broken bone in his arm slid silently back beneath the flesh, and he suspected that it mended itself. It wasn’t obvious until the stone grew dull once more, and the golden sheen it cast had vanished, that his skin had regained its former color. The man on the bed took a deep breath. He reached his arm up to his face and Chael realized that his bone had mended perfectly. The man didn’t even wince. It was as if he had never been injured. This stone was powerful.

~~~