Chapter 28 The Four
The Four
The four ancient Lords of Xanthia stood together in a circle, faces solemn and grave.
They had met at the most central point in Xanthia, where each of their territories converged, and where their powers blurred with each other.
There was an intense energy in the air, as if the wind itself knew of the power that flowed here, both below ground and above.
“We are making the right choice. We agreed this – all of us,” Rasnik, Lord of the South, said to the others.
He was dressed in elegant green robes. Beside him stood three other Xanthian males, dressed in yellow, red, and blue.
“To turn back now would be a disgrace to our people, and a disgrace to Xanthia.”
Rasnik’s eyes locked on Tephorn, the quiet, young Lord of the East, who was dressed in red. “Yes. I know.”
“We leave a lot behind, Rasnik. Tephorn is young. Yet he makes the choice today of a male much older and much wiser than his years.” The male who spoke was tall and elegant, with dark hair.
He wore a flowing yellow robe and had blue eyes that were so intense, he could likely see through somebody if he tried.
“I know, Virmor. But the magnitude of what is to be done cannot be understated. If it was not for Kashult’s bravery,” Rasnik signed, indicating to the weathered, tired-looking male dressed in blue.
The male looked empty, hollow, like a great tragedy had befallen him.
His light brown hair was matted with dirt, and his eyes held a darkness that only those who had been through deep sorrow could understand.
“We would not stand here today, able to do what is to be done. Xanthia would have fallen to his Uncle, you understand that? We cannot allow such a risk to be posed to Xanthia again. This must take place. None of you can turn your back on Xanthia and go back on your word. You would damn the Realm.”
Kashult coughed, raising his head. His solemn eyes met Rasnik’s.
“Behind your harsh words, Rasnik, I see what you truly feel. You feel concerned. You feel afraid that this might happen in the future. I understand that. We have seen and felt such awful things. Our beautiful realm came so close to falling into the hands of my Uncle. I do not, nor does anyone in my territory, wish to see Xanthia on the verge of such peril again.”
Kashult straightened. “The power that flows within me is corrupt. I hope that with this final action of good, I can remedy all that was done. I can right the wrongs caused by my kin. I can cleanse the impurity within me, and within Xanthia. The rot will die off, and a new Lord will come to power.”
Rasnik’s eyes softened, and he sighed. “You make an incredible sacrifice on behalf of Xanthia, Kashult.”
“We all do,” Kashult replied, his eyes returning to the ground.
“Then we shall do as agreed?” Virmor spoke. “We make this journey – make this offering for the future of our people – and new Lords will come to be.”
“Yes,” Rasnik replied. “When we perform the ritual, we must ensure we give so much of ourselves over that our bodies begin telling us to stop. It is at that point that the stone will be adequately infused. When it is done, we return to Xanthia. You need enough left within you to make the jump back to our realm. If you misjudge this, you damn us all.”
Tephorn nodded. “And when we return, within our own territories, we end our lives, to bind the magic and complete the ritual. Our heirs become the new Lords of Xanthia.”
“Yes,” Rasnik nodded. “But nobody can know. Nobody can know that such an artefact exists. An item with the power of the four Lords of Xanthia could cause a war unlike any of us have seen. A war that could well escape the powers of our realm, and extend into others.”
Kashult gulped, and Rasnik cast him a fleeting look.
“So, we agree now. As the ritual is performed, as we return and end our existence, we shall wipe all memory of the tragedy that has befallen Xanthia. Nobody living shall remember it. The fallen will be forgotten. The chaos, the destruction. All of it. Nobody shall know that on the eve of peace, all four Lords died, and new ones came to power. Even the new Lords will not remember how they inherited their territories. Only when a worthy Lord of Xanthia is drawn to the artefact for the purposes of saving his people, and that purpose only, shall he remember that we met on this day. He will remember all that happened. He will remember the ancient war and the harsh choices faced to see peace in Xanthia once more,” Rasnik levelled a look at Kashult.
“He will know of the decision we have made for our realm. He will understand the power that this stone holds, and that by us uniting as one on this day, he holds the power of the four territories of Xanthia within his hands.”
Each Lord nodded.
“The Power that lies within each of the Wells will replenish,” Virmor confirmed. “Our heirs will be at full strength within a matter of decades. But the power in this stone will not decrease. I am sure of it.”
“Then it is to be done,” Rasnik finished.
One by one, they placed a hand on the stone.
The air around them began to burn with an intense heat, like a fire igniting and taking shape.
Kashult’s face twisted into an agonised expression, but he did not let go.
Each Lord leant forward, maintaining their grip of the stone, as if an unseen force was trying to push them all away.
There was a blinding white light, and the Lords were gone.