Beyond a Broken Stone

Chapter One

          "Arthur, shush!" I turned around and hissed into the darkness, seemingly for the umpteenth time. From where I was standing, the scowl I received was subdued by dim shadows.

         "Would you stop doing that?" Arthur whispered back vehemently. A step further, a light crunch issued from the area he inexpertly trailed on, sending me into another muttering frenzy. He stared guiltily at me after my agitated admonishment, but decided it was wiser to say nothing.

         While on the outside I seemed tyrannical, it was nothing compared to my internal feelings of chaos. My mind was unsettled and flustered, while my stomach was in much the same position, harboring a knot that was slowly--- but surely--- tightening. Strangely enough, however, my mind was as clear as a crystalline pool, aware of every sound and noise that occurred in its vicinity.

         The mood of our setting was apprehending and heavy, much as my heart was. A calm breeze blew about from time to time, carrying a scent of foreboding; everything seemed symbolical to me at that moment. The crescent moon above us was unaccompanied by stars: forlorn, but clear in its pathway through the sky.

         Arthur silently shuffled behind me, trudging along as if this was the last place he wanted to be in.

         I ignored his unvoiced protest; he had often done this to show me his reluctance at whatever adventure was at hand. Quite frankly, I was not about to back down on this particular escapade. Plodding about on the inconspicuous trail for a few seconds was enough mockery and reply to his dissent; he immediately stopped.

         My brother and I had always communicated in taciturn ways. Although I was two years his senior, he did not particularly respect me, as most other siblings would. His response to my incessant words of "I'm older than you" was the protruding of his tongue. I was never particularly moved by this action, but our parents, obviously, were.

         During a feast some time ago, Arthur and I were locked in an intense argument over who would receive the left-over dessert, and when I presented my usual support of age, he presented his traditional support of physicality. My mother had the misfortune of witnessing this debate and of deciding its results, for not soon after, my brother found himself with extra lessons taught by an abhorred tutor.

         A faint pop not ten yards before us interrupted my memories. I froze. Stunned and bewildered beyond speech, I almost fainted right there and then.

         Behind me, Arthur was brought to a halt; out of instinct, it seemed, he grabbed my cloak and clutched it with a forceful grip.

         I felt a presence nearby, despite my temporary disability to see. Something was shuffling forward with swift speed; I could hear the distinct swish of robes on the leaf-strewn ground. The grown terror within me increased. Could it be that this was Adrianna? Was she really entering the woods like she promised she would?

         Whatever it was seemed to be moving away from us, and for that, I was exceedingly thankful, but my apprehension did not cease.

         Another breath of cool breeze swept through the silent woods. I heard my brother exhale deeply behind me; for once, I did not silence him, letting him escape with a display of momentary relief.

         I, however, did not harbor such thoughts of renewed safety, for I knew we were far from secure: The woods at this time of night were neither benign nor harmless.

         "Let's go," I muttered and continued along the wide path; Arthur released my cloak and followed.

         We did not have to walk far to reach our destination.

         Surrounded by contorted trees and overgrown moss, the building before us was a fearful sight. The roof was partly eroded from neglect and natural causes; from what I saw, only a portion of it still stood. A balcony was positioned on the left side of the structure, but its Roman design was hardly discernible. The large entrance was seemingly decaying before our eyes, while the statues of ancient gods were yellowed and incomplete. The entire place held an atmosphere of gloom and obscurity.

         It was said that long ago this building was consecutively occupied by mild and easygoing families. The house was kept and restored every generation, and hardly anyone from the town could complain about the inhabitants, not only because the families were so peaceful, but also because they chose to stay secluded deep in the woods.

         According to the rumors, the young daughter of the most recent of generations committed suicide in that very house for reasons unknown. Her spirit was said to have lingered in the house and murdered off the rest of the family. Since then, the house has been left in ruin while her ghost remained to haunt it forevermore.

         When my grandfather retold these rumors to us, by the bonfire on Hollow's Eve, my mother shook her head and told us that these were old wives' tales only invented to scare children and keep them from journeying to the old house.

         In spite of myself, I smiled ruefully: I was doing the reverse of the story's moral. However, I would not turn back now, not when I was standing in front of my journey's end.

         Regardless of the falseness of the rumor, I shivered. It was easy to believe that the gruesome ghost of a miserable girl was now watching my brother and me from the second story; awaiting us and the life we possessed, smirking at the effortless lure she had prepared, and laughing at our innocent expressions, not knowing of the doom to come.

         I shook my head. Where were these thoughts coming from? Perhaps the mood of the house was finally and slowing settling into me.

         Arthur shifted beside me, almost questioningly.

         "Jamie?" He asked cautiously.

         I didn't answer at first, but after the silence grew intolerable, I replied with a question.

         "Do you think Adrianna really came?"

         "Of course; it isn't her way to miss out on something like this."

         I nervously bit my bottom lip.

         "What if this was beyond her courage? Would she risk getting struck by her drunken father just to win?"

         Arthur looked uncertain. No matter how much younger he was, we were somehow equal in our thoughts, and in this case, I was glad for that.

         "You're right. . ." he replied, and then with a grin he added: ". . .Jamensina".

         I glared at him, but had no way of mocking his name, for his was simply Arthur--- no embarrassing long name, no inane nickname.

         Unconsciously, I clutched the staff I had ultimately forgotten through our adventures thus far. Sweeping my fingers over the cool wooden carvings and shapes gave me comfort, especially in the face of what we were about to do. Sighing, I noticed Arthur's expression changed.

         My brother was eyeing the staff enviously. Immediately, I knew why: He was but a year from receiving the Novice Magicians Assessment, which, with passing, would enable him to own a staff. The official age for getting into the Moderate Magicians Academy, which I was currently attending, was thirteen. This, perhaps, was the best advantage I had over Arthur concerning age.

         I gazed at the waiting house once more. Its wicked and grotesque appearance was fixed in place; the erosion and decay was wafting slowly towards us. Surrounded by deterioration, the front doors seemed to be screaming at us to enter. I decided it was time to do so.

         "Let's go." A simple command and an expression of determination was enough to tell Arthur that this was not a statement to argue with. Silently, he followed me.

         The three stairs that followed up to the front porch were the color of murky, lukewarm water and I was afraid that they would break under our combined weight. Surprisingly, only creaks and groans escaped the steps as we trailed on them.

         The porch was as barren as a windswept field. Only the moss and wild vegetation that had grown over the decades provided for morbid decoration. I pinched my nose to keep the rotten air out of my lungs and kept my head down so as to avoid the hanging spider webs.

         "Ugh," I heard Arthur mutter as he stepped into a puddle of an unknown substance. Trying to stop the laughing that was about issue forth, I preoccupied myself by inching towards the door.

         Turning the knob, I found that it was unlocked. Surely, then, Adrianna was here; and most likely already thinking up an incantation to direct at the protected stone within the altar of the house.

         Once more, I sighed; we would not make it in time. If Adrianna really had cheated and come tonight to take the last piece of the treasure hunt for herself, then we stood no chance. She was a practiced Magician and knew spells that I had never even heard of.

         Struggling with emotions, I looked at my staff. It was a great item to own and I had never regretted passing the Novice Magicians Assessment and acquiring it, but a wand was always better. A wand was lightweight and easy to carry; it was the mark of advance and honor. If Adrianna completed the last task and received the wand as the ultimate prize, I would never forgive myself for wallowing in self-pity before the door that separated me from a near future. With that, I pushed the door open.

* * * *

         As I kneeled by the altar, I instantly saw the surest sign that Adrianna was here: the stone was gone.

         The treasure hunt chairman and sponsor was Mr. Regales, and he specifically told each contester where the stone was and how it would look. Tomorrow, the last task of the treasure hunt would have taken place; now, this would not be so with Adrianna's sly cheating.

         The altar was the farthest room in the house, secluded from the entire building by means of a greenhouse-style room. The floor was merely dirt with a broken candle here and there. Spider webs were inevitable in a house as old as this, especially with the more open style of the altar.

         "Do you think she left, or that she's hiding somewhere on the upper floor, waiting for us to leave?" Arthur asked as he dusted an old crate and sat on it.

         "She's probably hiding. Knowing her, she'll stealthily follow us and curse us with a spell, while flaunting the stone in our faces," I replied gloomily.

         "But wouldn't she have done it by now?"

         I nodded, but chose not to answer; I was examining the small wooden box at the front of the altar and trying to determine the spell Adrianna used to release the stone of binding.

         "Or maybe she saw us coming and ran out. That might have been her we heard walking into the woods." He looked thoughtful, and was so engrossed in his own observations, that he did not witness my own bemused expression at a sudden realization.

         "Arthur. . ." I started slowly.

         "No, wait a moment. Maybe she's already gone and we're sitting in this old house talking about---"

         "Arthur!" I whispered urgently.

         He finally looked at me and saw that I had discovered something; he often understood the importance of something I had to say through the tone of my voice.

         "What?"

         Without replying, I pointed to a spot on the wooden box.

         He looked at it. Between the symbols of the four elements--- fire, water, air, and earth--- and among the artificial jewels embedded into the cubic box, there was another insignia. It was in the shape of a fiery-red dragon, so small that the tip of a quill could completely encircle it.

         "How did she. . ." he began, but when I shook my head, fear overcame his bewilderment.

         The shape of a red dragon on an enchanted object was the mark left by the most advanced of Mages; it was the remainder of a Magician's spell and was almost inerasable. It was a symbol that no normal thirteen-year-old girl could procure, not even one advanced in Moderate Magic. Whoever had taken the stone had not done it for a contest.

         Not a second sooner, a shout pierced the silence.