Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

Jonah had spent four days telling tales of ancient heroes and great love stories in history. But he’d never told the same story twice and he’d never again asked for theirs. Charles couldn’t remember most of the stories. Mostly they were stories of historical figures or heroic tales with a few fairy tales. A few names Charles recognized as being characters in several stories. Jonah seemed fairly fond of an ancient Abvi General named Vena, and a Mythical Prince named Kehet.

The inns had all been pleasant, usually looking better inside than out. Everything he’d promised at the onset of the wagon ride turned out to be true. It was just before dinner on the second day that they arrived at a place where there were several concentric circles of wagons and carriages, all colorfully painted.

“Welcome to the summer camp of the Gypsies of the Wandering Rose,” Jonah said as he pulled his wagon into the center of the camp. Women and men all dressed in sparse but colorful silks gathered around the wagon and began unloading the contents. Other than glances and smiles, no one seemed to pay particular attention to Charles and Heather.

A woman dressed in sea green silks that were somehow sparser than the clothing of the other gypsies approached Charles and Heather as they stepped down from the driver’s bench. She was the epitome of beautiful. Her long pale blonde hair hung to her waist in gentle curls that seemed to accent more of her body than they hid.

“So, where have you been hiding all these years?” She said. Her voice was a seductive purr.

“Do you know him?” Heather asked.

“No,” Jonah interrupted, “Diten does not know Charles. She’s just particularly friendly.”

Diten then leaned close to Heather and whispered loud enough for Charles to hear, “Maybe I want to know him. Maybe I want to know you.” Her purr seemed a constant in her voice.

“I need to present them to the Queen, Diten.” Jonah said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Make new friends later.”

Diten walked her fingers over Jonah’s hand on her shoulder. “Oh, I will, unless I decide to renew some old friendships.”

As she walked away her hair swayed in an almost mesmerizing dance around her body. Heather grabbed Charles's jaw and turned him to face her. “I think we were off to see the Queen. I think we’ve seen enough of Diten.”

“She not often here,” Jonah said. “She’s a friend, but not one of us. She’s not a gypsy.” He led them to a carriage with a balcony. A middle aged woman sat on a pile of pillows on the balcony. “Bow,” Johan told them.

They did and Jonah did as well.

The woman looked up at them then, in a panicked flurry, rolled to her feet, scrambled over the railing of her balcony and knelt on the grass, bowing towards them with her hands outstretched.

Jonah straightened and tapped Charles. He and Heather stood as well. The woman, whom Charles had assumed was the Queen, continued to prostrate herself before them.

“I’m not sure this is what I expected,” Heather said. “Isn’t she the Queen?”

“She is.” Jonah grabbed Charles’ arm and nodded to the queen. “Tell her she may rise.”

These folks had strange customs, Charles thought. “You may rise,” Charles said as gently as he could. When Jonah released his arm, Charles stepped up to offer the Queen his hand. The queen took his hand, but kept her head bowed towards him as she climbed to her feet.

“Thank you, Majesty,” the Queen said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Now I’m twice confused,” Charles said. Why would a queen be expecting him, and why would she address him with such an honorific as ‘Majesty’?

Jonah stepped to the Queen’s side. “Charles is not yet fully aware of who he is.”

“Then it’s time he was,” The queen said. “My name is Queen Azalea of the Wandering Rose Clan. Your name is Kehet, Prince of the Unicorns.”

“I’m who of what?” Charles asked. The name was familiar from Jonah’s stories. He looked around to see if a crowd had gathered to see how they’d react to the Queen’s joke. Surely, this had to be a joke. A crowd had gathered, but no one was laughing.

Heather was nodding.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Charles whispered.

“It makes sense,” Heather said.

“Unicorns aren’t even real.” Charles said.

“That’s a myth,” Jonah said.

“Right,” Charles agreed. “Unicorns are a myth.”

Jonah shook his head. “No, the part about them not being real is a myth. They’re quite real. They just don’t like to be hunted, so they like to keep the myth that they are a myth going.”

“Woman,” The Queen said, addressing Heather. “You said this made sense; how?”

“He could be anyone,” Heather said. “I found him by the river three years ago. He had no memories at that time and still can’t remember anything before that. And he heals unlike a normal person would. I saw him return to how he looks now from a body covered in nothing but charred flesh. There was an explosion at the Blackstone mines. He wouldn’t be alive if he were human.”

“So you would be Heather?” The Queen said, it barely sounded like a question so much as a confirmation. “Thomas told us to expect both of you. Jonah’s been out looking for you for almost three weeks.”

“Thomas?” Charles asked.

“This town of Blackstone, from whence you came, must be quite remote,” The Queen said. The mirth in her tone was the first lightening of the mood since they’d arrived at the Gypsies’ town. “Jonah, tell them who Thomas is.”

“Thomas Boncanta is the greatest bard to ever live.” Jonah said. “And, some myths say that he’s lived forever and some say he’s lived forever thrice. I know him as a close friend, as I know you as a close friend, or knew you until your disappearance a millennia ago. About a decade ago, Thomas dropped of a box for the two of you when you returned. That was the last anyone has seen of Thomas. He told me he was setting sail to see the other continents. He had some secret to keep.”

The Queen went to her wagon, this time using a door on the side. When she returned she held a simple and crudely carved wooden box. She opened the box and presented the contents to Charles and Heather. “The bracelets are for the Wizard, the ring for the Unicorn.”

Heather gagged and gasped. No one had mentioned her talents.

“Your secret is safe among us,” The Queen said. “Gypsies may have the reputation for not recognizing property and selling anything and everything, but we keep secrets.” She handed the box to Jonah then pulled the bracelets out and offered to help Heather put them on. The bracelets were gold and wide enough to cover most of Heather’s forearm. They looked heavy. As soon as the inside of the bracer touched Heather’s skin, they flowed onto her, appearing almost molten then hardening again on her arms. They were skin tight.

“How strange,” Heather said. “They’re very comfortable, they feel soft inside but…” The tapped her arms together and the bracelets emitted a dull metallic thud. “They are rock hard on the outside. They’re pretty but, how do I take them off?”

“You don’t,” Queen Azalea said. “But panic not; they are not a bad thing. These are enchanted to prevent you from channeling more fire than you can control. Such explosions as the one in Blackstone are all but impossible with those on.”

Heather held out her hands, cupped with her palms towards the sky. A sphere of flame formed in the air above her hands. With a sudden lift, Heather flung the fire into the sky where it exploded like a firework. “I can still work my magic,” she said. “I did not take responsibility for the explosion, just to be clear.”