Izznet H'unar
Journeyman
Finally a breakthrough with the Cove mountain. The small veins of jade and emerald that were offered to earn favor had been accepted. Melding together the veins wound through the country side and valleys. Stone paths along with boulders and mountains would be seeking the one called Mason.
The shirt Melody had offered to assist held lingering remnants of his essence. It was sufficient for the emerald name Azi to track. Minerals mixed with soil and roots to involve much of earth elements in tracking the missing Caine sibling.
A small voice, one not of the seeking stones, resonated into the dark places lending aid. The Mage Mason was beginning to tap into natural abilities; intuition focused his energy into the ground around him. When the voice was heard, to human ears, it was as a young child. The voice was small and weak, but the power behind it was fierce as a hurricane.
Coursing through the human’s bare feet, the energy flowed through him spurring his steps toward freedom. Past empty cells and guard posts the path continued. Stepping over scorched and bloody bodies of his captors Mason finally made it out of the dungeon.
“Follow me, I will not abandon you.”
A storm howled around him as he fled. Bloody feet and a wound from the guard’s sword fed the ground knowledge of his presence. He had to find a shelter, if for no other reason to assess the damage he sustained.
A small clearing opened in front of him. Ducking inside he sat in the dark shivering. With a heavy sigh he began to replay the events that ended him in such a pathetic state.
“Fire is a gift.”
The voice interrupted his self pity. Laughing at himself he gathered a few sticks and aimed the one spell that had begun the whole bit of trouble. One simple fireball and all would be as it should.
“Vas Flam.”
His whisper was barely audible over the storm but the strong flame made him dance with glee. Warming himself and tending to wounds he began to collect his thoughts. There would be no way he would find his way home in the storm. He needed a sign.
There was no sound, but a sensation that startled Mason out of a fitful slumber. Unseeing eyes were desperate to find the source of the disturbance. The breath began to burn in his lungs forcing him to release slowly. Then he heard it, the familiar voice that drew him from confinement.
Sitting upright he was relieved to be alone. The child’s giggle echoed only in his head. Puzzled and intrigued he had to follow. A rustle caught his attention, then a glint of green. As he drew close to the tiny gem it would shift or roll away.
Another giggle joined the first, as if the ground was laughing at his expense. Growing irritation made Mason determined to grab the stone and teach it a lesson in manners! Each time he got close, it would shift or disappear.
The path was obscure yet covered in soft moss suitable for bare feet. Azi had no trouble with rocks, but he had been informed by Avalon that human feet are more sensitive. Taking a long and winding path they came out to familiar lands.
Mason stood a moment irritated and exhausted. When recollection came he was overjoyed to be near Britain. Falling to his knees he heaved a sigh of relief. At his side, lying in the ground as if smiling at him, was the bright emerald that he had chased.
“The voice is not a trick. Learn to listen, you will be strong.”
As Mason stood he picked up the stone and held it in both hands. Still unsure if the voice was real, he held the stone hoping it was. Joy coursing through his body spurred tired feet to run.
“Home! I’m coming Home!”
The shirt Melody had offered to assist held lingering remnants of his essence. It was sufficient for the emerald name Azi to track. Minerals mixed with soil and roots to involve much of earth elements in tracking the missing Caine sibling.
A small voice, one not of the seeking stones, resonated into the dark places lending aid. The Mage Mason was beginning to tap into natural abilities; intuition focused his energy into the ground around him. When the voice was heard, to human ears, it was as a young child. The voice was small and weak, but the power behind it was fierce as a hurricane.
Coursing through the human’s bare feet, the energy flowed through him spurring his steps toward freedom. Past empty cells and guard posts the path continued. Stepping over scorched and bloody bodies of his captors Mason finally made it out of the dungeon.
“Follow me, I will not abandon you.”
A storm howled around him as he fled. Bloody feet and a wound from the guard’s sword fed the ground knowledge of his presence. He had to find a shelter, if for no other reason to assess the damage he sustained.
A small clearing opened in front of him. Ducking inside he sat in the dark shivering. With a heavy sigh he began to replay the events that ended him in such a pathetic state.
“Fire is a gift.”
The voice interrupted his self pity. Laughing at himself he gathered a few sticks and aimed the one spell that had begun the whole bit of trouble. One simple fireball and all would be as it should.
“Vas Flam.”
His whisper was barely audible over the storm but the strong flame made him dance with glee. Warming himself and tending to wounds he began to collect his thoughts. There would be no way he would find his way home in the storm. He needed a sign.
There was no sound, but a sensation that startled Mason out of a fitful slumber. Unseeing eyes were desperate to find the source of the disturbance. The breath began to burn in his lungs forcing him to release slowly. Then he heard it, the familiar voice that drew him from confinement.
Sitting upright he was relieved to be alone. The child’s giggle echoed only in his head. Puzzled and intrigued he had to follow. A rustle caught his attention, then a glint of green. As he drew close to the tiny gem it would shift or roll away.
Another giggle joined the first, as if the ground was laughing at his expense. Growing irritation made Mason determined to grab the stone and teach it a lesson in manners! Each time he got close, it would shift or disappear.
The path was obscure yet covered in soft moss suitable for bare feet. Azi had no trouble with rocks, but he had been informed by Avalon that human feet are more sensitive. Taking a long and winding path they came out to familiar lands.
Mason stood a moment irritated and exhausted. When recollection came he was overjoyed to be near Britain. Falling to his knees he heaved a sigh of relief. At his side, lying in the ground as if smiling at him, was the bright emerald that he had chased.
“The voice is not a trick. Learn to listen, you will be strong.”
As Mason stood he picked up the stone and held it in both hands. Still unsure if the voice was real, he held the stone hoping it was. Joy coursing through his body spurred tired feet to run.
“Home! I’m coming Home!”