They could not help but stare at the carvings, for much as Chance had suspected, it did show a dragon, one in flight, wings flared, breathing fire. It was what was beneath the dragon that really took their interest. Four figures stood, opposing the dragon, one a dwarf, one a wolf, the third a gnoll and the last a kobold.
“Is that…us,” Yrip asked hesitantly, almost in disbelief.
“Look, the gnoll is holding a broom,” Snarl exclaimed and cackled. “That has to be me. That has to be us.”
Can’t be many gnolls with brooms around, Shags noted.
“But how?” Chance asked. “This looks like it was carved long ago.”
Random chance, Shags suggested. The other three all turned to stare at him with incredulous looks. The wolf grinned back at them, eyes glowing. I admit that is unlikely. Perhaps it is the will of the gods then. Perhaps it was predestined. Who can say. All that we can say is that it would appear that it is us.
“And fighting a dragon too,” Yrip stated. “We are bringing down the false masters.”
Chance raised a hand to touch the stone again, where the figure of the dwarf, of him, was on display. It held a staff in its hands, raising it towards the dragon, lighting forking from it. The monolith still vibrated beneath his touch. He left his hand there this time, and as he did so, he detected a pattern in the vibrations, rising and falling. Almost like the notes of a tune.
“Fascinating?” he murmured.
“What is it?” Yrip asked of him.
Chance closed his eyes and felt the flow of the tune running through his hand, picking up on the nuances of it, the timing of it. Slowly he began to hum, joining in with the song of the monolith. Almost as if in response, the vibrations coming from the monolith increased in intensity. The deep, resonant voice of the dwarven body Chance occupied matched it, growing stronger and more assured as he got to grips with the tune, feeling its flow and patterns.
The other three watched on in silence, listening to Chance’s powerful voice as it filled the glade with music. The butterflies shimmered and swayed in tune with the song, drawing in ever closer and closer to Chance, until they began to settle upon him, upon his shoulders and back and head, so that it appeared as if he wore a crown of gold and a shimmering golden cloak of butterflies. Sunlight streamed down upon the glade and Chance glowed in it.
He noticed it little, so intent was he upon the tune. At times it shifted, changing in tempo and Chance changed his own humming to match it, the sound growing until it reached a crescendo. Then, with a last triumphant note, it stopped. Silence fell again, and the butterflies lifted from Chance, to once more dance about the monolith and the glade.
Chance opened his eyes and took his hand from the surface of the monolith. He stepped back to look upon it. Light glowed from the stone, not the light of the sun but a light from within, radiant greens and blues and whites that marked out the carvings, causing them to stand out, both the ones they had initially seen and ones that they had not yet observed.
The light from the monolith pulsed and a ring of golden light swept onwards from it, across the glade in an ever expanding ring. It washed over them and then rolled on into the forest, the lights on the monolith dimming.
Chance’s body tingled from the touch of the light running through him, and he felt invigorated. More, the voice that announced matters to him spoke in his mind.
Power Unlocked:
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Earthsong of Azval Stalvaq.
Power Source: Primal
“What just happened?” Yrip asked. Chance didn’t have an answer, and nor did any of the others. The song, the power, none of it he could explain.
“The Earthsong,” he mused, recovering his parchment, to read up on it.
Power: Earthsong of Azval Stalvaq
Requirements: Special
Power Source: Primal
The Druidic site of Azval Stalvaq holds great power for the one who can tap into it, able to perform great things. The Earthsong is one such, for the singer of the Earthsong can inspire and encourage their companions to greater heights, such that they can function beyond their normal levels of ability.
Interesting. An actual song that he could work with. Music always had the power to inspire, but this seemed to be more than just that, with actual magic in it. He would have to test it out later on, to see just what it could do.
Tucking the parchment away, he returned his gaze to the monolith, inspecting it more closely. The burst of light had refreshed the cavings, making them more pronounced, easier to see, almost like they had been freshly chiselled into the monolith’s surface. Besides the image of the four of them in battle with the dragon, new images could now be seen and interpreted, spiralling up the monolith.
In one spot they could see large numbers of figures engaged in a battle, a mix of dwarves and kobolds and skeletons and another race that he did not know, being tall and lanky.
“What are those?” he asked, pointing at them.
Elves, Shags growled, fangs bared; there was a hard edge to his mind speech, a real dislike in it. It was a side to the wolf that Chance had not really seen before. He had grown used to the wolf being rather chill in his demeanour, to the point he sometimes forgot that he was an actual wolf, a wild and dangerous animal. And one who apparently did not like elves either.
He stared closer at the images of the battle, and it almost looked as if the elves were in battle against the dwarves and kobolds, with the skeletons and some other monsters fighting alongside the elves. The four of them were represented again, in the midst of the battle, though he could not say what their part in it was.
“Why would the elves be in battle against dwarves?” he asked.
“And kobolds,” Yrip pointed out.
“Kobolds fighting alongside dwarves is unheard of,” Snarl said. “They have had many differences in the past. But against elves? Yes, there are reasons for that. Many reasons. The elves are not friendly.”
“Really?” Chance scratched at his beard. “I thought elves were peaceful, living in the forests. And good with bows.” At least that is what he thought based on his limited knowledge, which was mostly taken from the movies. Tall, graceful, elegant and that kind of thing.
His words brought a burst of laughter from the others.
Good with bows, yes, Shags responded, But the rest? Not so much.
“I will never get used to this place,” Chance sighed. He didn’t know much, and what he did mostly seemed to be wrong.
Moving around the stone, studying it, they caught sight of other events, other images, of building and farming, of dwarves meeting together before an empty throne, and yet more that they could not understand the meaning of.
Then, at the very top of the monolith, hard to see from the ground, Chance caught sight of another event in action. The four of them were there, once more, but above them rose a tall figure of flames, wings spread wide, horns upon its head. The dwarf figure, him, lay before it, dead. A chill ran through him as he realised what he was seeing, blood turning to ice.
“A demon?” he asked.
Snarl nodded slowly as he gazed upwards, his ever present grin gone. “Yes. A terror drawn up from the darkest fires. It is a grim tiding indeed if one of them was to walk the world. And we are to face one, it would seem.”
“And I am to die,” Chance stated sombrely.
It is too soon to say that.
Chance shook his head, frowning. “No. It is there upon the monolith. And more than that, I feel it within, that this is a true depiction of things that are to come. This is what will be.” He did not know how, only that when he had looked upon it, he knew that this was what would be, graven on his bones. It was not simply a warning but a message, carved in stone.
“I refuse to believe that,” Yrip responded loyally. “This thing, this stone, how can it see into the future, yes? It could mean anything.”
Chance favoured Yrip with a faint smile. “Thanks for your kind words, but I know what it means. Some day we shall face a demon, and on that day I will die.”