“Your majesty, what exactly were you planning on writing down just now?”
The question lingered on the ten of them as they all stood in front of the barred double doors. Two of the three wooden beams held steadfast in their assignment, with the lowest of the three just recently finding a new location on the ground courtesy of Esmond Waye. Esmond was a tall man, less than half a foot short of seven feet tall, but even he would have issues with the middle beam, and the farthest from reach was a far cry even for him. Simon had noted this spatial situation with delight, and his eyes only grew wider as he saw Esmond begin to reach for his backside where the Staff of Woods was surely held.
The history of Esmond had been well known in their time.
Outside of the King, and the biased circles that held Catina and Ailuin in high regard for first their bloodlines and later their accomplishments, Esmond Waye held the most prestige of any of the eleven. From Silver Acre, a country set off the northeast mainland of Angea and deeply devout in their belief that nature is the last standing connection between Gods and mankind, Esmond once held nothing but rumors for his survivability. A legend before cementing himself as one, Esmond had been sighted many times in his youth swimming upstream with salmon, pounding his chest in circles of primates, and even having turned a stalking cheetah into a purring cat when a family had nearly been turned to supper for walking through the wrong brush. No one had ever heard him talk, and the rumors circulated during Esmond’s teenage years that words were foreign to the boy and now young man who lived in the woods. But this would all change the day Silver Acre needed to know its success.
Tragedy struck Silver Acre and the whole of Angea on a fall day, the first of many senseless and vile dominos that would not make an end soon enough. The leader of Silver Acre, Lord Kimone's bloodline was one of the eleven. In the morning the Carnage began to spread, his wife and two sons had been seen along the beach. Storming waves, far too violent for the season, would clear any clues on the beach to the three lights in the Lord's life that had disappeared.
Despair would be the virus that took Lord Kimone, but not before he finished his two sacred duties; finding the next bloodline and finding a suitable user for the Staff of Woods. Tasks he had intended for one of his kin.
It had been a first for Silver Acre, and one of the few handful of times any country needed to perform the ritual. For as long as time stood, the first eleven bloodlines seemed to have this insatiable, gnawing feeling whenever their time was to come soon; to find the next one. Lord Kimone was no different, and those closest to him whispered how the ritual was becoming more and more the primary speaking point towards the end of his life. Nearly four years past the day he had lost his only remaining family, high noon came on the Lord’s day of birth with an entire town celebrating in the town plaza. That was when Lord Kimone placed the diamond, which had been housed on a string around his neck his entire life, onto his tongue.
Scores of stories, songs, and skits had told Simon of that day in many and varying details, but the most prominent mark on that day was the sight of the Lord himself. Tens of thousands of people came to an ear-piercing screech of joy as they watched Lord Kimone walk down the plaza stairs that lead to his castle, only to find themselves void of sound for the remainder of the ordeal. As Lord Kimone approached the crowd in what appeared to be closer to a drunken sway rather than a royal walk, the pupils of each ongoers eyes quickly found that Lord Kimone had lost his own. Whites as bright as a fresh painting canvas stood out for all to see, as Lord Kimone continued to push through and part the crowd as he went. Where a gap had formed from his path, ongoers quickly refilled it as he passed, following the path their Lord was taking.
It was no one in the crowd, nor anyone in the city. A mass was leaving through the front gates of Silver Acre, lead by a head with eyes that could not see and a mouth that would not open quite yet. It wasn't a half mile before the mass veered from the main road and towards a denser part of the jungle that was the exterior land of Silver Acre. A few hundred feet more, and the young man in the woods had jumped down from a considerably high branch onto the road.
Standing defiantly in the crosshairs of an entire city, Esmond had allowed a moment of confusion to sweep him as the large crowd of people remained silent and his eyes met the whites displayed on the Lord's face. Lord Kimone never once broke stride, and in a moment Esmond Waye had gone from believing the city would terrorize the nature he loved so much to being told by the now-aware Lord Kimone that he was of the first eleven bloodlines. Esmond never saw the diamond leave the Lord's mouth, nor felt the necklace with the diamond attached go around his neck. It was like it had always been there. What he had seen and heard, was an exhausted Lord’s look of relief, the pupils of his eyes returning wearily, and being told, “I am so very tired, please take this from me, and be good with it, Esmond Waye.” The next moment, Esmond was holding a wooden rod, no more than two feet in length, in the palm of his hand.
Lord Kimone would make his way back to the castle, and die peacefully in his sleep that same night.
Esmond Waye would go on to lead a righteous existence. Though whispers suggested that his name be put up for election in Silver Acre following the last of the Kimone bloodline falling, the reality was that Esmond would need to learn many things about living with people including their language and customs. But he would not need to be trained to fight, his days living and playing with savage animals would go on to apply quickly in battle and self-defense, with the exception of practicing with his newfound tool.
Two years would pass before Esmond found himself on the boat towards the isle with the other ten.
In the second half of his fifth decade now, Esmond Waye revealed the only true item of interest Simon had left on this isle. In the smooth darkness of his right hand, a small rod was revealed. Simon did not deviate from his line of sight and hadn’t known that the other nine in the room shared in his fascination. Even the King, standing in front of the barred door in a stance that suggested he was waiting for someone else to open it, watched on.
An ill-timed blink would leave any of the watchers bewildered in what had happened next, but nobody did. Esmond Waye held the wooden rod with his arm extended in front of him, the smooth, flat ends pointing north and south. Then the rod extended in an instant toward the ceiling, stopping and changing course when it reached the height of the middle beam. Simon and the others’ eyes widened with the spectacle, as the rod changed course abruptly at a right angle, and extended to and through the middle beam until the beam crashed to the floor on the left side of the door. Replaced in the beams stead, the once short rod had shot and extended over thirty feet to complete the unbarring. Esmond remained unbothered and unmoving, as if the added length and shape the rod took did not change the weight or balance of the item. Simon concluded that it did not.
Then the rod shot back, returning at the same speed that it had left in, and returning to its original state.
“Well, that was pretty neat!” Simon said, his expression almost childlike in his awe. Only Catina had returned his emotion with some semblance of agreement with a look and a smirk, but the other eight remained in their position.
“Your majesty, my question.” It was Aluin who would fill the void once again, referencing the friend he had added to the hall. An uneasy tension seemed to fill the room, and while ignoring Simon was easy for most of them, Aluin had earned a lifetime of respect and had asked a question on everyone’s mind.
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Esmond Waye readied to unbar the third beam when the King held out his hand and signaled to hold, “After all these years Aluin, you care now?” The King replied, not bothering to turn and face the others.
“You tend to lose care when you lose feeling, your majesty. A place like this can have that toll. Today though, I feel like Aluin Qiro again. Don’t you feel it too?”
The King had moved his lips quizzically, though only Esmond would see this flash of emotion. The truth was, the King had felt something today. Alive, aware, conscious, one of those feelings had been turned back on within him, a faucet once clogged that now poured and nearly roared.
“We all know the rules,” the King started but then paused. Turning the face of the eight lined behind him, his eyes found Simon’s, “except, maybe you don’t do you, boy.”
“The rules of the diamond?” Simon asked and then snorted a chuckle. He missed the dismay written on Modesto’s reaction, “Well, for starters, quite obvious we need all of the eleven present in this hall. Pretty dismal rule judging that our eleventh guest is the strongest Orc to live.” This comment seemed to add an ominous cloud in the room. Esmond and the others were all eyes on him now, and Simon thought he had seen an uneasy shift in the King’s eyes.
“Leave it to the fabled genius to point out the obvious.” Modesto chimed in, but whatever swagger he was about to showcase was quickly shot down by the bolts of the King’s eyes. Modesto shut up.
“I would also fancy a wager on that each wish can be no longer than two words. Bring Life and Save Humanity. I’d imagine you surely tried to write more than just that before.”
The King took a step toward Simon, a cold aura growing around him, “Anything else you’d like to guess.”
Simon was returning the intimidating step with an amused, almost challenging smile, “Well I truly think the two-word rule is a good joke by the Gods, don’t you all? I mean, it leaves so much up for interpretation! As if Bring Life was very specific at all, like what kind of life? Flying pigs? Just plants? Very open-ended if you ask me. But the wish you had written before, Save Humanity, well at least you attempted to be specific. So good on you old boy!”
Nine sets of eyes beamed at Simon. At least two sets, the King and Modesto, showed cold contempt, while Aluin, Catina, and even Esmond all seemed to be on the brink of enlightenment. The others simply watched, waiting for a reply that would help them choose which side they would stake their ground on.
“You think so too, don’t you Simon?” Aluin said, a slight quiver in his voice.
“ENOUGH!” The King yelled with a booming voice that had once stirred kingdoms, though only Modesto seemed to shift slightly when the echo faded, “As King, and as someone who never lost sight of the fate the Gods have chosen for me, I have thought long and hard over what the wish will be. When Egorth enters this room, the wish shall be written; Eternal Prosperity.”
Simon filled the hall with an almost choking laughter. The others could only look puzzled at the boy, all except the King, Aluin, and Esmond.
“You are a trip, King, let me tell you that. I thought I was the smart one. God or Gods or the Devil’s ass will have a rough one trying to solve those big words you use. Well, at least you broke it to Aluin here, cats out the sack my friend. Just how the hell do you plan on telling the big guy on the other side?”
Aluin looked stirred, and nearly broken at Simon, “What are you saying, Simon?”
“Save Humanity! What a terrible thing to write! Truly a stab in the back to our elvish friend here, and while you could get away with that crime-free, the orcish tend to need a tall drink before they get royally fucked.”
A cold, hard object lightly kissed the side of Simon’s neck, followed by a gasp from Catina and Aluin. Trying to turn to make eye contact with the dealer only resulted in the object boring down a bit harder. It was Esmond, his outstretched arm never moving from its place, only the staff taking on a new form as it used two right angles to form its path and hit its target.
“Your tongue has learned to do, young Simon,” Esmond said in a low, accented tone, “these things accused need proof.”
Simon heard one of his own droplets of sweat drop down to the ground, and in a nervous panic, began tapping unknowingly the rhythm of seconds on his thigh. He absolutely had no intention of upsetting Esmond, though the outcome had taught him a lot, and now he began multitasking his thoughts. Simon mused with the idea that the staff of Woods could only bend at ninety-degree angles, an oversight from his research in texts. He also realized the foolery of his behavior, as he had no reason to be tense.
Simon filed these thoughts away and rejoined the room, “Esmond, you can’t hurt me on this isle, you do know that right?”
The always apathetic Esmond returned this retort with another quarter inch of movement from the shaft. Simon wanted to feel unbothered by this act, but some concern began to arise when he realized that there was a new sensation taking hold of him. He tried to persist, “ All I am saying is that it has perplexed me for over a decade and a half, why wouldn’t the King here just write Save Us into the diamond? It leaves further possibilities does it not? I can’t prove that the races of the elvish, orcish, centaurs, trolls, or giants have gone extinct, but I do know that the second wish compared to the first marginalized those- ok that's uncomfortable!”
Still held to where his current gaze allowed, Simon only witnessed the King’s eyes widen in alarm. Distress was shared in the faces of the others in the room, as nine pairs of eyes stared shocked at the blood-forming around where Esmond’s staff had dug into Simon's neck. Blood that had not come from the walls.
“We must continue this instant,” The King started, “Esmond, get-”
The next instant ruined everything. The third bar, its height being at least fifteen feet tall, would remain at its post but fail in its duty. An explosion of force burst through the bottom of the doorway, uprooting and ripping the hinges off the lower half of the door, allowing a gap where the double doors were supposed to remain shut. The sudden and impressive sound only further disoriented the ten in the room, with Esmond Waye receiving a direct hit to the back of his neck from a sizable splinter that shot off the door, making him fall to the floor with the staff naturally retracting.
Ears ringing and confusion gradually becoming clearer, Catina was the first to get a clear image of what was happening. The force that had destroyed the double doors left a trail of smoke in its wake that was disappearing, and it would be a fraction of a second longer until Catina could pair what this new sound was. A pounding sound, rhythmic but not solid at first. Squishy? Was that the word she was looking for? The ensuing pound brought a new thought as it crunched this time as if something had just broken, and then again. It was the sound of breaking, shattering bones.
“THE KING!” Modesto shrieked, a shuttering terror resonating in his vocals. The eight of them, Esmond unable to stand quite yet, watched frozen as the scene came into full effect. Long, black hair that reached the ground hung and swayed to and fro, a curtain to the destination that a set of massive green arms rose and fell upon. Further toward the wrists, green was not the primary color anymore. There was laughter, sinister laughter that may have always been there but now haunted and echoed in the large hall.
Egoth, the last of the Orcs, looked up at them now. Eyes wide in excitement, fresh blood shining on his cheeks, lips, and even teeth as he smiled, the privacy of his prey was now null. The King, arms reaching and muscles spazzing for another moment before going dormant forever, was an unrecognizable mess of blood and brains, a cranium completely opened. Dark blood grew in a pool.
“FINALLY!” Egoth burst out, his laughter rising with a menace and insanity even Hell would find unbelieving.
Behind the row that formed the eight spectators, faces twisted and unbelieving in mortified shock, the diamond glowed in a growing hue until it blinded them all.