And like the tomes had claimed, there stood the ring. This, at least, had not fallen. Several of the stones were marred, one cut almost in half, its top collecting lichen a few feet away. But they all stood in the same places they had first been erected. I realized that these monuments of power were exactly why the island hadn’t shifted over the millennia. Without them acting as roots, binding the physical world to the surging ether beneath, this strip of rock and grass would have been torn apart by wind and wave long ago.
I set down my bag and pulled out the Sea Staff. It was a gnarled old piece of iron wood, the hardest wood in Mariandor. The staff had been in the top level of a rickety tower that few remembered. It was resting in a chest, of course, and when I saw the banded container, I had to roll my eyes. How faithful RPG creators and fans are. Why wouldn’t the staff be in a weapon’s rack, or resting under a display case made of diamond? Why, because an oak chest wrapped in bronze was just too classic.
In the very center of the ring, I dug down into the soil and found the platform. Only a few inches of dirt were in my way, and I easily uncovered it. After brushing away the loose bits after, I found the socket.
The rest was a matter of pushing the staff’s base into the socket, then activating it. I struggled with the last, twisting harder than I wanted to, testing the strength of an item generations old. Yet even as I winced, eyes closed as I used my strength to twist the staff, I felt the ancient mechanism move.
The imagined somber voice of a long dead scholar echoed in my mind, Thrice around it turns, and thrice it will call to the sky above. I counted each turn, wanting to avoid missing the count. At the precise end of the third rotation, the staff stopped dead. I let go and took a few steps back.
Nothing happened.
I noted the crash of waves and the wind crying over the stone columns around me, but nothing besides.
“Well, crap,” I said to myself, rubbing my hands together. The wind had sapped their warmth greedily, and I huffed out my impatience. I’d journeyed long and far to to get to this point. Weeks of danger and discomfort, and now nothing? What in the Wyndark Sea would I do if this didn’t work out?
Then a pulse of power shot out from the staff, a ring exploding horizontally, knocking me on my backside, and a pillar of light lanced the sky above. Another blast emanated out a few seconds later, followed by a third.
As soon as the buffeting power subsided, I got to my feet and summoned my casting staff. It was an ordinary yew staff that allowed me to channel mana more effectively and little more. Still, having it in my grasp always made me feel more… wizardly, I guess.
When my eyes had began to adjust to the gloom again, the wind responded. A slow gyre formed around the hilltop, whirling around the stones. Its speed increased, and I had to run and take cover beside one of the great stones. Rain fell from a cloudless sky above and I blinked in surprise. A few of the drops found their way to my lips and the taste surprised me. Not rain, then, but salt spray!
The whirling coalesced and formed a solid figure, a surging mass roughly in the shape of a man. His legs were a pillar of ocean water, and his body churned, sea foam and tide wrack forming his very core. I’d done it!
The Tide Father himself stood before me!
He searched about the hilltop and found me huddling pathetically, and he screamed, showering me in water. Both of his arms reached up and he pulled lightning from the sky. As he let the ball of power build in his fist, I did exactly what I had been told to do.
Before fear closed my throat entirely, I shouted, “Tide Father, old and strong, I’ve come to claim a boon!”
The words acted upon the creature and it froze. Though it had no eyes other than orbs of electricity, its glare was tangible. “Who has come for my boon and what favor did you bring?”
I stumbled forward, fear making my every move clumsy. “Here I have holly from a mountain pass, thyme from a widow’s garden, and the most beautiful shell after a day of searching. Please accept my gifts.”
I set the items at the elemental’s feet and it peered down at them. A tongue of water lashed out, pulling them into its swirling core.
The Tide Father hummed in satisfaction, the sound vibrating the air. “Your offering is accepted. Now, what is your boon? Be swift. I have an ocean to tame and a kingdom to rule.”
My boon had been decided weeks ago, but even so, the prospect of asking for anything tugged at every selfish and greedy piece of my soul.
I pushed it all away and spoke the only words that were needed. “An evil has been growing in the land again, and the foes of the noble races increase in number. I want to know if this is but another kingdom that will rise and fall, or has the ancient evil come again? What power do we face, Tide Father?”
The being released the storm in its hand and it rose to the sky, a few stray bolts emitting the gathered power. The elemental pushed its hands out to either side, as if tasting the entire world.
Suddenly, a ripple of energy tore through its core, and the creature shuddered visibly. It began groaning, a sound so low it pained my joints, and the lightning in the sky began to
