The Legend Of The Seven Crystals The One Crystal - Chapter 2 Chapter V The Joining

“With all respect, my King, how can anyone expect the Guardians to handle something as important as the Joining of the Crystals after such a sumptuous meal and all that entertainment? Personally, all I want to do is take a nap!”

King Spartas chuckled, not entirely dismissing Masori’s complaint. He had to admit that the bed did look inviting, and a short nap after the banquet would have been nice. However, he had been raised to be a monarch, and in the course of his training had learned to put aside personal desires to accomplish what was needed and best for his people. He had also learned to discipline himself enough to be able to fend off the sleepy feeling brought on by the evening of enjoyment.

Stifling a yawn, Masori went to the wardrobe adjacent to the King’s bed and opened it. “Ah, look at that,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s exactly as you predicted, your Highness.” He pulled out a robe that looked like the gleaming threads had been spun from emeralds, and held it up for Spartas to see.

“Impressive, wouldn’t you say, Masori?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful garment!”

“Nor I.” Spartas came forward and slid a hand down the smooth, bell-like sleeve that ended in gold trim, which mirrored that which was circling the neckline. Embedded in the trim were the tiniest of stones – topaz, if he wasn’t mistaken –meticulously cut into facets that sparkled even in the lower candlelight illuminating the room. The bottom of the robe was trimmed in rich brown fur into which lighter green stones, peridots perhaps, had been sewn.

“Here. Let me.” Masori helped Spartas pull the dinner garment over his head. “Would you like to wash again first?”

“My hands, certainly, and probably my face. I wouldn’t want to get grease on that gorgeous garment, eh?” Smiling, Spartas went to the alcove where he discovered fresh towels and a new cake of soap laid out beside the bowl, into which someone had poured clean water. He’d noticed Masori no longer looked like he was about to pass out, and his grin widened. Nothing like a chance to see the King of the Elves decked out in proper regal attire, he thought.

“I’ve found your slippers to go with the robe, sire.”

“Excellent.” Spartas finished washing and turned around.

“These are as magnificent as the robe!” Masori held out the footwear, eyes gleaming with pleasure.

Tossing the towel aside, King Spartas stepped closer and peered down at the slippers. They were crafted of soft leather that had been dyed the same color as the robe, and then studded with chips of gold, emeralds, diamonds, and the lighter green stones in a lovely, scrolling design. Best of all, they looked comfortable. “Indeed, Masori, they are that.” He straightened. “Well! I’d better get dressed. Our friend Cortas said he’d be back soon, and it wouldn’t do to answer the door in my smallclothes, now would it!”

“No, your Highness.” Masori placed the shoes on the floor with a gentleness that bordered on reverence, and then lifted the robe from where he’d placed it on the bed.

Spartas raised his arms so Masori could slip the robe over his head. The garment fell in smooth, flowing folds over his body to the tops of his feet. A perfect fit. After removing the other slippers, he slid his feet into the green ones. As he’d guessed, they, too, fit just right.

“Allow me to take care of your hair before you leave.”
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Normally, Spartas pulled his long hair into a single ponytail, wrapped in a dark ribbon, which hung down his back. For special occasions, however, he would wear it loose, except for the sides near his face, which would be plaited with small gold chains and held together at the ends with fine golden wires. This was, without question, a special occasion, so he went to the chair near the window and sat so Masori could brush and style his hair, something the knight had been trained to do as part of his preparation to become a knight.

Spartas had heard how knights in other realms were required only to learn fighting skills and swear loyalty to their monarchs. He thought about this now as Masori worked with nimble, practiced fingers, twisting the king’s thick hair into the first braid and working in the chains as he went. In the elf kingdom, a knight was much more than a mere fighting man. He was prepared to serve as a personal retainer to one of the elf lords, and if chosen by the elven council, the personal aide to his king. His training therefore included knowing how to attend to the king’s toilet – bathing the king, keeping his clothing spotless and clean, dressing the king’s hair when needed – in addition to archery and other fighting skills. But above all, of course, undying loyalty. Masori, as young as he was, had proven himself more than capable in all of these areas, another reason he’d been chosen to accompany Spartas to the Joining. Which, he reminded himself, was imminent…

“Almost done, sire,” said Masori, as if reading the king’s mind. “Just have to secure this wire – ah. There. You look splendid, my king. And here – you can’t forget that!” He pointed to a simple leather case Spartas had placed in the middle of the bed.

Despite it’s unadorned construction, it held the most treasured object of the entire elf kingdom – the glowing crystal shard that would, when united with its brothers, bring renewed life to Meridia. Masori was unable to hold that case, since what was within would have lashed out through the leather and blown him to pieces – only those chosen as Guardians could handle the shard and whatever it directly touched.

Spartas stood and smiled at the younger elf as he went to the bed and took the case. “You’re a treasure, Masori. Thank you. And now I believe you’ve earned that nap.”

Blushing, Masori bowed. “I was being childish about that, your Highness, but thank you. I just wish I could attend. What a wondrous event this is!”

“Well, I believe if you look out the window, you’ll at least see the beam of epta coming from Miroh. That, I’m sure, will be spectacular enough to give you a lifetime of memories.” He went toward the door, sensing enough time had passed that the escort should be arriving at any second.

“I’m sure you’re right, sire.”

“Now that I’m taken care of, I suggest you get out of those things and into something comfortable. When I return, we can discuss what we need to do to prepare for our return journey.”

As if a cue had been given, the escort’s knock sounded, and Spartas opened the door.

“Ah! I see you’re ready, King Spartas!”

“Indeed. Shall we go?”

Cortas gave a deep bow and stepped aside, waving the king into the corridor, then shutting the door and joining him. “This way, your Highness.”

“Where is the portal located – we seem to be going in the opposite direction of the Banquet Hall.”

“And so we are. The Portal and Beam Platform are at the very center of the Palace.”

As he said this, several other Guardians emerged from rooms along the corridor, led by their escorts. Having spoken with all of them during dinner, Spartas felt comfortable in their company, but no one seemed inclined to talk. The solemnity of the occasion had rendered them mute, including Spartas, who merely exchanged smiles and nods with his fellow Guardians.

A few minutes later, they emerged into a kind of courtyard, but a vast one, brightly lit by scores of huge torches. The walls of the palace surrounded three sides of this open area, but Spartas figured it would take at least fifteen minutes or more to walk from where he was to the far facing wall.

At the very center of this massive space was a raised, round platform reached by seven staircases surrounding it. Each staircase was a different color, and Spartas realized why this was as he was brought to the base of the green steps.

“I may not go up, King Spartas – you must go alone.”

“Thank you, Cortas. Your help has been greatly appreciated.” Favoring the escort with a smile, he started upward, noticing in the corner of his vision that the others were doing the same. He noticed, too, that each wore a robe the color of the steps he was mounting. Knowing his own crystal was green, he concluded that the ones held by the other Guardians matched the color of the robe each one wore – and the steps they climbed.

He had to admire the simplicity of it all.

“Welcome to the Joining!” King Vangard, standing on the platform, raised his arms in greeting as the Guardians reached the top.

Behind him was a structure that was unlike anything King Spartas could have imagined. A circle of glistening silver mounted on golden legs, between which was intricate scrollwork, had been placed over a hole, out of which rose a smooth, black, shining stone marbled with gold. At the center of the stone was another opening, but this had prongs that the elf doubted had been made by any craftsman. They looked as if they’d been formed naturally out of the rock itself, and had once held something.

Of course, that “something” had to be the crystal. He wondered how the whole thing had originally looked, before the crystal had been broken into shards. But the time for speculation was over – King Vangard was speaking again.

“My Chief Wizard, Leman, has told me the alignment is almost perfect.” He gestured toward a man beside him in a long, silvery robe.

The wizard, who was fairly close to Spartas’ position on the platform, was standing over a device that was pointing heavenward where a circular area of clouds had parted, revealing Miroh in the starry heavens. He was peering into an eyepiece attached to it and appeared to be muttering. Part of this device, Spartas saw, was a highly complicated-looked series of metal circles and knobs, which the wizard kept adjusting.

“My son, Prince Tristan, will be the first to place his crystal into its slot,” Vangard continued. “Then the rest of you shall add your crystals in the order I call you forward.” He turned to the wizard. “Is it almost midnight, Leman?”

The wizard straightened and stared up at the stars without the aid of his device and began muttering again, his long beard quivering with each syllable. But then he lowered his gaze and nodded. “The alignment and the time are now, King Vangard! Let the One Crystal be reunited!” His old voice cracked on the last word, but he smiled and bent over his instrument once more.

“Prince Tristan, come forward and place your crystal!” Vangard called.

The prince came to the edge of the Beam Portal and opened a leather case identical to the one Spartas carried. From it, Tristan took a glittering stone the same color as his indigo gown, and leaned forward. Opening his hand, the prince extended his palm and the shard, as if lifted by an invisible force, left his hand, hovered for a second over the opening, and then fell into place between two of the prongs with a loud click.

Amazing. Simply amazing. Spartas thanked the stars that the Joining had fallen to his generation – what a great privilege this was!

“Chieftain Bulgar of the Ogres, come forward and place your crystal!”

The massive creature needed only a single step to reach the edge of the Portal, his violet robe nearly ripping at the sides with his huge stride. From his case, he pulled a glowing purplish shard, and repeated the process just completed by the prince. Then, like the prince had, Bulgar stepped back into his place on the platform.

“King Spartas of the Elves, come forward and place your crystal!”

Removing his shard from the case, Spartas came to the edge of the Portal and held it out. Suddenly, something that felt like soft fingers caressed his palm; the shard was lifted, and settled into its place beside the other two. Astonished but thrilled, he returned to his place. Masori would have loved that, he thought with a small grin.

And now Akiros was called to place his crystal, a shard that gleamed the same deep yellow as his attire. Following him was the dwarf, Prince Lotra, his orange robe and shard not too different from the color of his beard. Next came Tundras, the aquamarine of her shard and robe coming as no surprise to Spartas. Finally, the enkanto guardian, Shakur, with his flaming red robe and a shard that sparkled even brighter, completed his part of the task and returned to his place on the platform.

Mere seconds later, a near-blinding spark engulfed the pieces; when it faded, the once-separate shards had coalesced into a single entity that danced with every primary and elemental color of the rainbow from within its depths for several seconds before becoming as clear and pure as glass.

At first it seemed to Spartas that nothing more was going to happen, but then something in its depths began to pulsate, slowly at first, but soon accelerating until the Crystal began to emit low hum. Miroh was directly overhead. Soon Spartas had to shade his eyes with the edge of one hand, eventually lowering his gaze altogether as the light became so bright he feared it would blind him. It was happening. The hum of the Meridian Crystal became a roar, and now Spartas found he had to cover his ears, and saw that everyone else there was already doing so. A powerful beam came out on the One Crystal and went directly above Miroh where the other portal was waiting. The platform shook with the force of the beam.

The shaking knocked everyone but the ogre to the shiny surface of the platform, and the brightness of the beam became so great, everyone closed their eyes, covering them with their hands, heads bowed or turned away completely.

Another sound broke through a minute later, one that accompanied its source – a fierce wind that blew across the platform, forcing all of the Guardians, King Vangard, and the wizard to abandon their positions and clamber down the ladders to the ground below. No sooner were they down than the beam began to increase in diameter until the entire platform was engulfed, and around this whirled a tornado of lightning and color.

Spartas swallowed hard, realizing that anyone who had tried to remain on that platform would have been vaporized. He didn’t bother to look around to see what the rest were doing, sure that like him, they were heading for shelter between ladders against the platform’s base. As long as that deadly whirlwind got no bigger, they should be safe, he told himself.

Epta continued to flow into Meridia’s core from Miroh, using the Crystal as the conduit that led directly into the magma lakes deep within the planet, energizing the source of the planet’s very life force.

The ground beneath Spartas was rumbling now, too, and he wondered, albeit briefly, if Masori could feel it inside the strong walls of the palace.

Hours seemed to pass, and then… a pause. As if someone had slammed a huge door against it and shut it out, all fierce sound and movement ceased, the blue light of a pre-dawn moon poured over them, the clouds and storms gone. Slowly, awe etched on every face that Spartas could see in the light of the now silent beam, the Guardians got to their feet. He had no doubt his own awe was as evident as theirs.

He had been told that the beam’s energy flow would pause after the first two hours of the three it would take to charge – the second phase would take only an hour. This pause, he was told, was necessary in order to keep the planet from shaking apart. Spartas knew they would all have to return to the platform at the very end in to take their respective shards once more.

When he was young and still under a schoolmaster, Spartas had been told that the Crystal was pure and clear when it was undivided. But as soon as it was split into its seven parts once more, each shard would take on the color that best represented the kingdom where it would be guarded. He looked forward to seeing this occur when the Elven Shard was returned to him.

From what sounded like far away came a great shout that grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Ah, listen!” called King Vangard. “That, my friends, is the sound of the good people of Nipos shouting with joy in the marketplace!”

Well, considering the thickness of the palace walls and the distance, that would make sense. Smoothing the front of his robe, Spartas went to Akiros who was still staring up at the platform. “Nice to be alive,” he remarked, his tone dry.

“What’s that?” Akiros gave his big head a rapid shake and turned. “Ah, my friend the elf king! What did you say? Glad to be alive? I quite agree. Some things are bigger even than the tikbalang.”

“Ogres, too.” Bulgar shuddered.

“Now what do we do?” Spartas bit his lip, looking around to see if anyone was being given any kind of instructions.

“We wait,” said Tundras, joining them, smoothing her blue hair with her hands and wrapping it with a ribbon that looked as if it had come undone.

“Not much longer, I hope,” growled Akiros. “We’ve been up here two hours, yes? That means there is one more hour of charging. How long in between, though? This day has been a long one after a long journey. I may be a great warrior, but even I need to rest once in a while.”

“As do we all,” Tundras agreed.

At that moment, Cortas approached King Spartas. “I will take you back to your rooms, now, your Highness.”

As he was speaking, the other escorts entered the area and approached the Guardians to whom they were assigned.

“Thank you, Cortas. Is all well inside the palace?”

“As far as I am aware, King Spartas, but we were all in fear for our lives for a while, I must admit.”

Apparently the palace walls weren’t as rock solid as they appeared, Spartas thought, frowning. He hoped Masori had fared well. “It was indeed an awe-inspiring hours with another hour like that to follow.”

Cortas nodded, clearing his throat, but said nothing, leading Spartas to believe the man felt that to be a gross understatement. Not that any of it mattered. The Joining had been a success, epta was being returned to the world, and Meridia could look forward to another seven thousand years of unthreatened existence.

A few minutes later, Spartas would reassess that statement, and wish was far, far away from Nipos.