Blue Diamonds (Book One of The Blue Diamonds Saga) (17 page)

First to come out was a spell book, before three purple candles that he stuck into the ground around him, roughly forming a triangle. The candle wax was nothing special, but the wicks within were magical braids, supposedly woven from the hair of faeries.

“Do you see this tree? No one could figure out why it is lying over here, when it was definitely uprooted a hundred yards away...”

Shomnath continued on somewhere in the distance, but Baymar continued to blot his chatter from thought. He was patiently drawing symbols on the ground around him in between the candles. He drew with white ash that he drizzled from a powder horn. They were the runes of spirit sight, which would focus mystic energy into the fairy fire once the candles were lit. After he was satisfied with the runes, he sat cross-legged with the book in his lap. When he was pleased with the aesthetics he took in a few slow, deep breaths.

“Put out your torch and don’t say another word,” instructed the cleric.

Shomnath stopped mid-sentence, surprised at the cleric’s sudden curtness. Baymar noticed his hurt expression and momentarily offered a look of sympathy.

“We haven’t the time to reminisce," he added, softer. "You can tell me all about it after we get what we came for.”

Shomnath gave a nod, and then doused his torch in the dirt. A little disappointed that the cleric wasn’t interested in his story, he grudgingly walked over and sat behind Baymar’s setup.

As he took his seat the cleric bent forward, whispered a few words, and then blew onto the tops of the candles. The wicks caught and suddenly let loose a stream of sparks high into the air in a magnificent blast of light. As quick as they were to flare up, they just as speedily simmered down to purple flames that were no larger than the flame on any ordinary candle. What wasn’t ordinary was how the forest around them suddenly went aglow in a light, lavender hue. The prince enjoyed Baymar’s magical light show until the very moment he saw them.

First one, then two, then several more red forms appeared before them, wriggling free from unseen cracks in the darkness. They were soldiers, guessing by the garb they wore, but they didn’t have the stern faces of warriors. They looked lost, or more fittingly oblivious, and they all bobbed in place several feet from the ground. Closer observation revealed that the apparitions floated above piles of rusting armor and decaying bone. Shomnath handled this sudden change in scenery well, until he made eye contact with the soldier floating closest to him. When he looked closely into the empty, white orbs, from where a pair of eyes should have met his, Shomnath panicked and grabbed a fistful of Baymar’s cloak in attempt to get his attention.

“Let go of me!” scolded Baymar.

“But…” stammered Shomnath.

“They won’t harm us,” assured the older man, and the prince loosened a bit, but his weary expression held as he cautiously watched the spirits floating overhead and throughout the area.

Aside from the gentle bobbing, the spirits occasionally swayed side to side in tempo with the trees around them, riding the invisible breezes that rattled the woods. Shomnath nervously scooted just outside of the ash circle to be closer to Baymar, who was focused on a lone phantom floating high above all the others. Leaning back without taking his eyes from the red blur, he cupped a hand and whispered into Shomnath's ear.

“They are remnants of the dead," Baymar whispered.

"Lost souls, stripped of their wits when their life was torn from them. If you die a peaceful death, your life energy will drift away to the light with your soul in tow. If your life is taken violently, they separate, leaving a confused husk of a soul. The lost soul will spend eternity looking for its home. The one highest up in the air is Ambrosia. I'm going to draw her soul to us, and then we can ask her anything we want.”

This was all that Shomnath needed to hear in order to confirm Baymar's insanity, and he immediately crawled several feet away from the old man. He felt safer sitting next to the dragon’s skull, although he wondered why no giant, red phantom loomed over the skeleton. He turned to Baymar, who was pointing his left index finger at Ambrosia’s spirit, while holding his right hand over his heart. He was reading from the book on his lap, chanting one verse the entire time.

“Ago agere egi actum phasma atis,” said Baymar, and he repeated the tome over and over again in monotone succession.

After about the tenth repetition, the tip of his index finger flickered red. It wasn’t very bright, but a mellow red, much the same as the spirits above.

Shomnath looked up then, to see that Ambrosia’s phantom was steadily gliding down to Baymar, rocking side to side much like a leaf falling from a tree. He nervously looked to the old man, who was so deep in meditation that he seemed unaware of his surroundings.

Instinct told the prince to shout a warning, playing against every bit of faith he’d gained for the old man thus far. He stood ready to yell, but just as the words surfaced from his lungs, the phantom reached Baymar’s extended finger and exploded, drowning the forest in a bright, red light. Shomnath cowered in reflex and began to run away, only to ram violently into the dragon's skull, rolling it onto its side.

Then, dizzy from the crash, the prince found that beneath the skull a glimmering treasure awaited. It was a magnificent golden broadsword, looking as shiny as if it were newly forged. It reflected the red lights of the spirits above brilliantly, but only now they were no longer calmly floating about. The explosion from Ambrosia's contact with Baymar upset the spirits, waking them from their stillness, and now they were zipping all about the grove like an angry swarm of insects.

Terrified, the prince found that not only had Baymar lost control of the situation, but also was bent over fast asleep, with his face planted in his spell book. He would have thought the old man to be dead, if he weren't still mumbling the words of the spell.

Above, the action escalated, and the red spirit soldiers morphed into a screaming, red tornado, that grew until all of the other spirits were swallowed up in the maelstrom. The last image Shomnath saw before blacking out was of the soldiers red faces, screaming out from the center of the whirlwind. Only now they weren’t so oblivious. Their faces held one common expression, rage.

And then, in a blink of an eye, it was morning.

Wake up you twit!

Baymar always did have the tendency of talking to himself, but he couldn’t remember ever calling himself names. As he stirred from slumber he was startled when sunlight burned his eyes. It was already well into the morning judging by the intensity of the sun, but that couldn’t be right. It had been decades since the last time he slept, but that was obviously the case here.

His aching head felt like an anchor to the rest of his body as he pulled it from the open book on his lap. He was still sitting cross-legged, and being hunched over in the awkward position for the entire night wreaked havoc on his back. Just sitting upright was a new hell, but he overcame the discomfort quickly, as memory of the prior night seeped through the blurry forest scene around him.

It took several moments of deep breathing for the dizziness to fade enough for him to focus and regain his bearing. The candles had melted to the ground, leaving three coins of purple, melted wax in their place. In the near distance he heard soft snoring, which he assumed to be coming from Shomnath. Slowly, he glanced down at his spell book.

Ago agere egi actum phasma atis? Please, say that isn't the spell you cast last night!
said a woman's voice, and then suddenly the cleric’s memory came back in full.

“Ambrosia?" said Baymar. "It worked! You can hear me!”

Baymar smiled into the air, looking all about, suddenly very giddy and proud. His most favorite feeling in the world was the joy that followed performing a new spell successfully.

More than hear you, you oaf. Do you realize what you’ve just done? No, of course you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t be smiling like a complete dolt,
said Ambrosia.

The first thing that Baymar noticed about the sorceress was that she didn't sound impressed one bit. Baymar looked to his spell book absolutely puzzled. It was a powerful spell, enough to catch the eye of any wizard. Then a thought struck him.

“Ambrosia, how are we communicating in the day?” he said.

Oh, you are a clueless one,
she answered.

“I am not clueless,” he retorted. “I drew your soul to your material connection so I could speak with you. Could a clueless person pull that off?” He couldn’t understand why she seemed so upset. The way he saw things, a soul should be happy to be rejoined with its life essence, because only together could they ascend to a better place. So focused in thought, he didn't hear Shomnath wake.

My material connection? Ha! Oh, you’ll be getting much more than a conversation.

“What do you mean by that?” Now Baymar was worried.

“Who are you talking to?” asked a waking, stretching Shomnath. When the prince realized how late in the morning it was, he rose from the ground slightly startled. “We need to go back," he said. "The sun is already up, and the others will be worried.”

Go on. Tell him who you're talking to,
prompted Ambrosia.

“That’s who I'm talking to! Don't you hear her?” shouted Baymar, hands waving in the air.

After a short pause, of listening to nothing but the natural sounds of the wilderness, Shomnath shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t hear anybody,” laughed the prince. "But look what I found last night. I its Sir Williamdale’s sword! Can you believe it? It was under the dragons skull all this time.” Shomnath lifted the golden sword and waved it side to side, smiling at Baymar the entire time, but the old man seemed to be lost in thought.

He couldn't hear me,
said Ambrosia,
because that is a soul-binding spell. You’ve bound my soul to yours, oh master wizard.

“No! Are you sure?” Baymar asked.

“Let me see,” said Shomnath, assuming that Baymar was speaking to him. The prince then tilted the sword and pantomimed inspection. "A gold sword, under the skull of a dragon that was slain by a general famous for his golden armor and sword. Yes, I'm fairly sure it was his."

“No, not you, I’m talking to Ambrosia,” said Baymar.

Am I sure? Oh my dear, dear, mageling. I wrote that book,
said the voice in his head, to which
Baymar acknowledged by slowly opening the cover of the book in front of him. He searched out the author’s name, and as plain as day, inside the cover, in the bottom right corner of the first page, in flamboyant longhand, was one name. Ambrosia.

Baymar’s skin paled.

“Are you okay?” asked Shomnath.

“Bound your soul, to mine?” said Baymar, further confusing Shomnath. “Gods what have I done?”

Evidently, not what you intended,
said Ambrosia.

“Could you please tell me what’s going on?” Shomnath pleaded, but was further ignored.

"And the effect is...?" said Baymar.

Permanent,
said Ambrosia.

The word hung in his mind, and for a moment Baymar forgot about the Evernight, the blue diamonds, and even the giant stone turtle waiting for them back at the camp. In the world of wizardry, permanent was one of the words that you didn't want to hear after an experiment.

“I have encountered a slight problem,” Baymar said to Shomnath.

Slight?
said Ambrosia.

“Slight?” echoed Shomnath.

“Ambrosia seems to be stuck in my head,” answered Baymar.

Stuck in your head?
laughed Ambrosia.
You cast the spell, so don’t make it sound as though I just happened to wander in here and forgot my way out! It’s your fault I’m in here, and don't you forget it!

“Alright!" said Baymar. "I misunderstood the summons spell, and I’ve bound Ambrosia's soul to mine,” he admitted to Shomnath.

Much better,
she said.
But failed would be a better way to put it.

“Bound to you?” asked Shomnath.

“That’s right,” Baymar said.

“So you can hear her now?”

“Yes."

For your information, I can hear everything you can hear, and that goes the same for everything you see.

“And, I’m beginning to worry she’ll never shut up,” sighed Baymar.

What nerve! Why in the galaxy would you even attempt to conjure my soul?

“We need to know where you’ve sent the diamonds,” Baymar answered her, and then there was silence.

“What is she saying now?” asked the prince.

“Nothing, which suits me just fine for now. We need to get back to the others before Aga’s spell wears off.” Baymar said, and then the older man twisted around and charged back onto the path that led them to the clearing.

“Wait, before what spell wears off?” called Shomnath, but the cleric was already too far ahead to hear him.

The hike back to the campsite went much quicker in the light of day. When they did reach camp, they were surprised to find Rolo and Kala still asleep, both snoring away. Pall was the only one up, although he looked horribly tired. He claimed he couldn’t sleep from all the crickets, but actually spent the night worrying about Spirits.