The Stone of Dalmeer (standard:fantasy, 5835 words)
Author: Cloud Strife	Added: Jul 30 2003	Views/Reads: 3277/2310	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A story about three men, a battle between two kingdoms and the discovery of a rare book in the most unlikely place that changes a world forever

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

and spoke, “Do not fear of the battle Loneth for you are a brave and 
true warrior and if that does not give you solace then remember the 
prophecy and rejoice at our imminent victory”. “Yes, the prophecy”, 
murmured Loneth as his gaze returned to the Courtyard.  He still feared 
the battle and did not want to leave the castle or his wife but knew 
that the call to march into the West would come before long. 

· Broma finished his daily prayers at the chapel just as the priests
were arriving to say mass and returned to his quarters in the heart of 
the castle.  He unsheathed his sword and began to study it as it shone 
brightly in the midday light.  He dealt mortal blows to imaginary 
enemies before his thoughts turned to his deceased father, Maerhta.  
The sword had been his father's before he had been killed in the last 
battle with the enemy.  Broma realised that the battle had been more 
than fifteen seasons ago.  He had been very young at the time and had 
always been told that his father was a mighty man on the battlefield 
who had inspired confidence and courage among his comrades and sent 
fear down the spine of the enemy.  He had by most accounts in that 
battle taken the lives of a dozen or more before he too had succumbed 
to death. His father was considered a hero and Broma wanted so much to 
live up to his fathers name and do his best for his people in the 
forthcoming battle.  He longed for the chance to prove himself worthy 
as a warrior and knew that he would soon get his wish.  As he squeezed 
the hilt of the sword and felt the awesome power that ran through the 
weapon he did not doubt that the stories of Maerhta were true. He could 
almost see the man in battle before him now.  Broma was a deeply 
superstitious young man and believed that his father's strength still 
ran through the mighty sword and would help him in battle.  They were 
an evil and twisted people whom he would be facing and for the sake of 
a peaceful future for the Kingdom they needed to defeat the enemy once 
and for all.  Broma placed the sword back into its sheath and laid it 
down gently on his bed as if it were a priceless artefact.  “With this 
sword I will avenge you Father”, he whispered before going to the great 
meeting hall of the castle to be present at the council of war. 

· Greyna had managed to sneak back into the great city of Lethsor one
stormy night and right under the noses of the guards who were on sentry 
duty.  He had even impressed himself with his skill in accomplishing 
the feat.  The day before while he was journeying on the road to 
Lethsor he had seen a plume of smoke rising high above the treetops 
from the way he had come.  He realised that the peasants from Yeda had 
burned down his old hovel in anger when they discovered what he had 
done before leaving.  Greyna had a day's start on the peasants now and 
believed rightly that they would not try to follow him.  All the same 
though he picked up his pace considerably for the remainder of the 
journey.  He had bled the poor town dry on the morning he left there.  
He had enough coins on him now to last well over a week.  The trouble 
for him from this point on however would be to remain unseen and 
uncaptured inside the city.  But he was confident and believed that he 
would not have trouble in avoiding any unwanted attention.  He 
considered himself a very good thief. The next day after dawn broke he 
got his first glimpse of the city in over eight moons.  It was just as 
he remembered it.  There rose high into the sky huge buildings that 
spiralled as far as the eye could see and before him swept the dusty, 
winding streets that he knew so well from old. It was all there and at 
the centre of the huge city would be the market of Dalgor, the largest 
in the world, which thronged with merchants who Greyna believed, had 
too much money to spend and not enough sense or care to deserve it.  He 
headed straight towards the market with a newly found spring in his 
step that had been lost for some time.  It's good to be home he thought 
as a smile spread across his face. For the next few weeks he slipped 
effortlessly back into his old role of conning money from anyone who 
was gullible enough, stealing money from the merchants who frequented 
the market and stealing food and other goods from the numerous stalls.  
He was not all bad though and when sometimes he had food to spare he 
shared it with others living on the streets like himself.  This did not 
happen often though as it was a relatively lean time for Greyna because 
people were more cautious of thieves than eight moons previously when 
he had left the city. He was surprised to find that there were visibly 
more guards patrolling the market and the rest of the city for that 
matter to protect the people of Lethsor from those like Greyna.  This 
was one of King Ronaths ideas to find favour with his people.  The 
market of Dalgor was becoming a safer place, as more and more thieves 
were being taken off the streets never to be seen again.  Greyna soon 
learned this upon his return but it did not deter him for he had one 
fault in that he was overly confident.  This was the reason why he had 
always been caught before and it wasn't long until he began taking 
unnecessary and foolish risks like stealing too much from one place 
before moving on despite the fact that he was under threat of death and 
sure enough on one occasion he slipped up. The owner of a stall saw him 
as he pocketed an amulet on a sweltering afternoon at market.  The 
stall owner had noticed him hanging around and had been keeping an eye 
on him.  “Thief”, he shouted at the top of his voice and pointing at 
Greyna.  “That man stole an amulet!”  “You there”, called a nearby 
Palace Guard.  “Halt in the name of King Ronath!”  Greyna had no choice 
but to run as fast as he could from the scene because he would now be 
running for his very life.  He pushed and shoved his way through the 
crowd with the guard right behind him.  He headed out of the square and 
tried to lose his pursuer in the labyrinth of narrow streets in the 
slums which he knew like the back of his hand.  The route he took meant 
that they were climbing up all the time to a higher level of the city 
and to Greyna's dismay he found that he could not outrun the guard. The 
guard was almost on top of him as he burst out into an opening where 
about twenty yards ahead there was a sheer drop of more than thirty 
feet to the street below.  Greyna knew this place and had his eyes 
locked on a large opening in the derelict building opposite them.  It 
was a jump of four or five yards.  Just at the instant when Greyna was 
preparing to make the jump the guard managed to grab his shoulder from 
behind and shout, “Now I've got you thief”.  Greyna was completely put 
off by this and subsequently was not able to jump as far as he had 
needed.  He crashed into the bruisingly hard stonewall on the other 
side and being just able to hang on to the rough stone for his life 
managed to claw his way up a few feet and through the jagged opening in 
the stonework. The guard had not made the jump.  He had been trying so 
hard to make up the ground on Greyna that he had not noticed the drop 
ahead and had fallen to his death on the street below with a sickening 
crunch. There was already a growing crowd around the body as Greyna 
peered down.  He was badly hurt but needed to make ground away from the 
scene and as soon as possible because he knew that many had seen him 
during the escape and would be able to give a description of him to the 
Palace Guards as rewards were often offered for information in these 
situations.  Murder was still a common occurrence in the city even if 
theft had been almost eradicated.  He would be killed for the death of 
the guard but when it emerged that he had already been under threat of 
death for other crimes he knew that he would suffer the most horrible 
and cruel fate that could be imagined by the King or anyone else.  
Visions of awful torturing devices swam through his mind as he made his 
way out of the derelict building, and hobbled through the winding 
streets away from the scene of the crime as fast as he could. His right 
knee and ankle were badly hurt though and he soon realised that he 
could not continue much further on foot.  Instead he quickly and 
cunningly decided upon another plan.  He knew he was in an old section 
of the city and that mostly elderly people lived there.  He would enter 
a house and kill its inhabitants so he could rest up for a few days 
until the hunt for him had died down.  With this in mind he approached 
a small and weather-beaten door, which he knocked on softly.  Shortly 
afterwards an ancient looking man with a long, thin beard answered. “   
    Hello friend”, spoke Greyna in what he hoped was a pitiful voice.  
“I have travelled far and will gladly pay if you allow me to rest here 
awhile”.  “You may stay my friend and need not part with coin for I 
live alone and seldom have visitors these days, I would relish some 
company for awhile”, croaked the old man.  Greyna's eyes lit up with 
wicked intent at these words.  “Come in and close the door after you”, 
called the man walking back towards his chair by the fire.  “My name is 
Felyar, make yourself at home here by the fire and tell me something of 
your journeys.  I too have travelled far in the past you know but do 
not see much of the world nowadays”.  Suddenly the old man felt an 
excruciating pain shoot through his back and looking down at his chest 
saw the tip of a blade emerge through his garments, which were 
beginning to turn from a dull white to a rich crimson.  “I am sorry 
Felyar”, came a voice from behind, “but I'm in a lot of trouble at the 
moment and you will soon live again in heaven”.  At these words Felyar 
groaned and began to sway violently.  He coughed up blood and fell 
forward onto the floor.  He did not stir again. Greyna was truly sorry 
for what he had done to the old man but believed that it had been the 
only thing to do given the unusual circumstances.  It was better to 
have the old man out of the way as that put Greyna back in control of 
the situation and as soon as he had convinced himself of this he felt 
much better.  He was back on track now and felt that he was surely 
going to escape the death that would have befallen him had he been 
caught.  He was his old self again and when that feeling came back so 
too did his old thoughts and instincts.  He would have to stay in the 
house for about a week for his injuries to heal and the hunt for him to 
die down before he could hope to leave.  He would leave Lethsor for 
good this time but in the meantime he went about ritually searching 
through Felyar's belongings for anything of value, which he could use 
or sell on his upcoming journey. The old man had collected quite a lot 
of junk during his life and most of it was stored in a small room at 
the back of the small house.  Greyna's keen eyes quickly deduced that 
most of it was worthless but beneath a small pile of old clothes in a 
corner of the room there was a medium sized chest made of a very old 
and tough wood.  It was locked of course.  Greyna wondered what the old 
man had that needed to be locked away and hidden from prying eyes and 
so he methodically and patiently set about trying to unlock it. The sun 
had gone down and been replaced by a magnificent full moon by the time 
he managed to get the chest open.  When it finally opened it was with 
protesting creaks and groans, which told Greyna that nobody had 
glimpsed inside of the chest in a long, long time.  When Greyna finally 
peered in his breath was taken away completely and utterly.  He could 
not have dreamed of such a find.  There were more coins in there than 
he had seen in his entire life but for once the thief was not 
interested in coins because their was something else in there that was 
even more valuable.  It was perhaps the most valuable thing in the 
entire world.  “Where did the old man get this?” he said to himself.  
“It must be the only one left in the world”.  It was a book.  It was by 
the look of it an ancient book.  But it was not just an ordinary book.  
It had a thick black binding made of some tough material that may have 
been stretched skin.  On the cover was a fierce looking green dragon 
with a golden ring about its neck and flames bellowing forth from its 
mouth.  It was the mystical symbol of the lost art of magic.  This was 
a book of spells. Greyna did not understand how the old man could 
possibly have come across it.  Five generations before Greyna had even 
been born the reigning King of the Great City of Lethsor had been a man 
named Galres the Mighty.  Galres was a powerful warrior who was 
respected by his people but he had always feared those who could wield 
the art of magic for it was a power which he not control or even 
understand.  He had feared their power so much that he had ordered a 
number of magicians and other spell makers killed and all written 
documents relating to the art were destroyed.  It had been a bloody 
time in the history of Lethsor and afterwards it was believed that the 
art had disappeared forever.  Due to the savagery of the persecution of 
magicians during the period it had been considered even up to Greynas 
time as one of the most embarrassing incidents in Lethsors history and 
was rarely discussed though of course everyone knew the story.  So 
Greyna quivered with excitement at his find as he blew dust from the 
cover and leafed through the torn and yellowing pages of the book.  
What spells awaited his command?  What power could he wield?  His eyes 
fell almost immediately upon a spell that set his heart racing even 
faster than before.  This was a spell which could transport him to 
other worlds. 

· The battle had been raging for hours on the plains of Chardra, located
about two hundred spans west of Pertha.  The Perthans had at first been 
taken completely by surprise to find that their enemies the Granthans 
had been marching on them aswell because open conflict between the two 
armies had not been anticipated.  It had been the Perthans plan to lay 
siege to the Granthans castle and when the rations of their enemies 
were growing short to storm the castle and finish them off.  It 
appeared however that the Granthans had been planning a similar 
strategy.  Despite both sides initial surprise it was a particularly 
fierce and bloody battle that took place that day. 

The Perthans however began to gain the upper hand as the battle raged on
throughout the day.  While both sides had similar numbers of about five 
thousand men apiece the Perthans appeared to be more organised in their 
ranks and more fearless against the enemy.  In the midst of the Perthan 
ranks was Loneth who was fighting like a man possessed as he wielded 
his sword and drove through the enemy with unstoppable force.  He was 
feeling the exultation of battle, which he had heard about from some of 
the older and more experienced soldiers.  “You become like a different 
person”, they had said to him around the campfire the night before.  
“It's almost like a trance.  The graceful movement of your sword 
through the air and the glorious sound of the death agonies of your 
enemy are in those moments the most beautiful things that can possibly 
be imagined.  The red blood of your enemy spilling to the ground 
consumes you with a feeling that is half madness and half ecstasy”.  
Loneth's armour was covered in blood as he cut his way through the 
Granthan ranks. 

· Broma too was fighting bravely with his father's sword.  It seemed to
be a part of him.  It was controlling him as enemy after enemy fell 
dead to the ground before him.  Some of his strength ebbed away however 
when he saw the opponent who now stood facing him just yards away with 
a mighty sword gripped tightly in his right hand.  The man was tall and 
broad shouldered with armour that was completely covered in blood.  It 
was the blood of Broma's people.  This thought filled him with rage.  
He called out to his father for courage as he charged at the beast 
before him.  His opponent blocked the first volley of slashes cleanly.  
Broma himself was then forced to deflect a number of slashes but 
finally managed to smash his shield into his opponents face and use the 
time that this brought him to inflict a mortal blow on him.  The man 
was stabbed fiercely straight through the chest.  As Broma pulled his 
sword back with all his strength the opponent stood bravely for a few 
moments and tried to summon the strength for a final charge at Broma 
but suddenly the sword fell from his hands and he sank slowly to his 
knees. 

· Loneth had never known that pain could exist as that which he now
felt.  He tried to stay on his feet and charge again at the Granthan 
warrior but the pain was simply too great to bear.  He sank to his 
knees and put his hand to the wound in his chest.  He knew that he was 
dying when he saw the blood flowing profusely from the wound and 
mingling with that, which had been collected from those he himself had 
already killed.  Loneth summoned up the picture of his wife Aertha in 
his mind and began to cry at the thought that he would never see her 
again.  He would also never live to see his child and hoped that he or 
she would grow up to be a better person than he had been or at least 
not die like he would very soon on these plains.  His head was growing 
light and the colours of the battlefield were beginning to lose clarity 
and focus when the man who had done this to him approached.  Loneth who 
was now struggling to breathe had his eyes fixed on the boots of the 
man who now walked slowly forward.  Broma stopped about three feet from 
him.  With extraordinary courage Loneth forced his eyes from the man's 
boots up to his face so that he may die with honour looking into the 
eyes of his enemy.  He looked into the face of the Granthan warrior 
before him and in the instant before his head was cut from his body he 
thought that the Granthan wasn't a monster at all as Loneth had always 
been told.  He was a man.  He was nothing more than a scared young man. 
· An instant later there shone a dazzlingly white light in the sky just 
above the battlefield, which caused fighting to cease momentarily.  
When the light had faded there was a man standing on the battlefield in 
dirty and strange looking clothes who had not been there before.  “The 
prophecy has come true”, shouted one of the Perthans to his comrades.  
“It is the lord Amoseth. He has come down from heaven to lead us to 
victory”.  With this realisation the Perthans fought with vigour even 
greater than before.  The Granthans courage immediately disappeared and 
quite soon each and every one of them including the brave young warrior 
Broma had been killed without mercy.  The stranger who had appeared did 
little more than stir during the proceedings as he stared at those 
before him with an expression of bewilderment and horror at the 
unfolding barbaric spectacle of the battle. 

· As soon as the victorious army arrived back in Pertha the next day
after a gruelling march home a huge feast took place in the main hall 
of the castle.  It was a celebration the likes of which had never been 
seen before in the Kingdom and on a large marble chair next to the King 
and Queen sat the quiet form of the man who had appeared from the sky 
during battle.  The people ate and drank and toasted the Lord Amoseth 
for granting them victory.  However a hush grew as the King rose and 
gestured to the crowd for silence.  “Oh great and mighty Lord Amoseth”, 
he began, “You came down from heaven and in our hour of need you helped 
us to vanquish our enemies.  What do you now require of us?  How may we 
serve you?” 

· Greyna stood up before a hall filled with hundreds and hundreds of
people on their knees before him.  He did not understand anything that 
had been said since he came to this strange place as the people spoke a 
language he was unfamiliar with.  The rich blue coloured sky of his 
world had been replaced here by a beautiful pale orange which looked 
incredible and even frightening to him.  None of the land he had been 
brought through by these people since he came from Felyar's house was 
familiar to him.  He knew that the spell had worked and had at first 
been scared not knowing what was happening around him but here in the 
castle he had finally seen. The man who is standing beside me is 
clearly a King he thought and he and all the rest seem to be 
worshipping me.  They think I am some kind of God.  This caused him to 
laugh hysterically at the audience before him.  “My servants, my loyal 
servants”, he shouted at the top of his voice. “I am Greyna the 
traveller and conqueror of worlds.  Give me riches.  Give me all the 
gold and jewels in your kingdom and worship me always”. 

· At these words a change appeared to take place in the crowd.  The King
rose to his feet and turned to address them.  “It was foretold that the 
Lord Amoseth would come to us and give us the strength to defeat our 
enemies in battle.  As you have seen this has indeed come to pass.  It 
was also foretold that when the Lord Amoseth spoke to us in the lost 
language of Nirmalore used by our ancestors during the Golden Age of 
our history that we would take him to the Stone of Dalmeer.  Do any of 
you before me here doubt that he has spoken in the forgotten tongue?”  
There was no movement from the large crowd.  “Very well then, at the 
break of day tomorrow on what will be a truly glorious day in our 
history we will journey to the Stone of Dalmeer”.  The crowd were 
delighted by the news that they would be going soon to the Stone of 
Dalmeer and every parent made sure that they and their children went to 
bed early that night so as to be awake and ready to leave for the stone 
at the break of dawn. 

· At dawn the next morning Greyna was awakened from sleep and dressed in
fine robes before being ushered from the luxurious room where he had 
passed the night.  He was seated on an extravagantly crafted golden 
throne, which was carried by eight men.  It looked as though wherever 
he was going today, every man, woman and child in the Kingdom were 
going aswell.  Greyna for his part did not know or even care where he 
was going.  I am going to live here as a God for the rest of my days 
and what a life I'll lead he thought. They journeyed outside the city 
walls through a dense wooded area towards a hill.  When they reached it 
and began the ascent Greyna noticed that the hill was surprisingly high 
but it mattered little to him as he was still being carried on his 
throne.  At the top of this hill there was a huge clearing, which was 
big enough to accommodate everyone who had made the journey. 

· A tall, thin and very pale skinned man began to address the crowd. 
“People of Pertha yesterday we saw the prophecies of old come true”, 
shouted the normally placid priest Dernoth.  “Now as you know it is 
time for us to give Lord Amoseth back his immortal life so he can once 
again watch over us from heaven and protect us until the end of time”.  
Wild cheers erupted from the masses at these words.  “And even though 
we lost many friends in battle recently”, Dernoth went on thinking of 
Loneth among others, “that does not take away from the splendour of our 
victory and the eternal happiness awaiting us all.  Let all hail 
Amoseth”, he bellowed.  “All hail Amoseth”, answered the masses. 

· Greyna did not have any idea what was happening and was surprised to
find that he was suddenly being lifted up and passed along by the 
cheering and smiling crowd beneath.  “Look how they adore me”, he 
laughed.  “I truly have become a God here in this land”.  He was 
presently allowed back down onto his feet.  Two men came to him and led 
him forward to something that he had not seen before.  It was a huge 
flat stone about eight feet long, four feet wide and three feet high 
off the ground. He was laid gently on the stone but began to struggle 
when he saw that his hands and feet were being tied down.  His 
struggles proved too late and soon the deed was done.  He was trapped.  
With panic rising quickly inside him he fought in vain to break the 
bonds that held him but quickly found that they were too strong.  There 
was nothing left for him to do except to try futilely again and again 
to break the bonds and agonise over what was now in store for him.  He 
couldn't understand why this was happening and began shouting furiously 
at the onlookers to be released.  His shouts and screams soon turned to 
whimpers though as the tall figure slowly approached him.  The man wore 
a shimmering black cloak from which he now pulled a long, cruel looking 
dagger that gleamed in the light.  Greyna's blood froze instantly in 
his veins at its sight.  The man inspired a raw terror in Greyna that 
was primal and fierce and threatened to stop his heart completely in 
sheer terror.  It was mostly due to the wide and crazed blue eyes of 
the evil figure before him.  He became hysterical as he saw the 
murderous glint in those eyes and turning to the crowd for help as they 
closed in around him he realised that there was none left as they all 
too had the same maniacal glint and bloodlust in their eyes.  It was 
over for him.  He knew he was going to die. “Please God forgive me for 
all I have done”, he whispered shutting his eyes tightly and knowing 
that the end was coming.  “Lord Amoseth we will now take your mortal 
life as you lie before us on the sacred Stone of Dalmeer and in so 
doing restore onto you eternal life”, spoke the priest Dernoth to the 
shivering form below him.  “For as the wise magician Dalmeer foretold 
long ago the people of Pertha would enjoy a peaceful and prosperous 
existence free from all evil forever when this act was accomplished.  
We thank you for the sacrifice that you now freely make to us and 
rejoice in the fact that we will one day be a part of your glorious 
Kingdom in heaven.  May you reign there over all until the end of 
time.” Greyna shivered uncontrollably as the man came closer and as the 
knife was pressed into his frantically beating heart amid the cheers 
and roars from the crowd he screamed and screamed and screamed and 
screamed. · 


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