Peridot: War and Peace (The Stones of Power Book 2)

By M.D. Grimm

Morgorth is considered a villain by his own people and known as the Dark Mage of the North. But now all he feels is light and love as he pursues a budding relationship with Aishe, a dialen of the Ravena tribe. Morgorth hardly believes his good fortune. He has allowed Aishe into his home, into his bed, into his heart. He laughs more, smiles more, and feels happier than he ever has before.

He should have known such bliss never lasts.

The Council of Mages, the ruling body over all mages on Karshian, knows he has Rambujek, a major stone of power—a stone won from an evil sorcerer. They also know his destiny—to become the Destroyer. Fearful, they send two emissaries to take the stone from Morgorth, using whatever means necessary. This includes tricks, threats to those under his protection, and the threat of war. A war Morgorth knows he would never survive.

Conflict soon arises between him and Aishe. Their tenuous relationship is put into jeopardy, their very beliefs about themselves and their love is put into question. Morgorth doubts if he should keep Aishe in his life. He doesn’t know if he can protect Aishe from his enemies. Or from the monster he might become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.D. Grimm
• Release date: Mar 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370118212

M.D. Grimm

M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!). After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

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Peridot: War and Peace

Book Two

M.D. Grimm

Peridot: War and Peace

The Stones of Power Book Two

By M.D. Grimm

Cover art by BSClay

Copyright 2017 M.D. Grimm

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Reign of the Mother

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Chapter One

I scowled as I read the letter. It was the third of its kind I’d received in the last few weeks. It used nearly the same words and phrases as its predecessors, only this one was more urgent. Threatening. I don’t respond well to threats.

We request your presence—which meant they demanded it—at the White Tower—the place where meetings regarding mage business were held. The letter continued, "regarding recent events concerning a sorcerer and one of the Pferun Dulleriin. As this is our third correspondence without an answer, we will take required action. We wish to make this a civilized interaction, but further resistance from you will force our hand."

The letter continued with more not-so-well disguised threats and ultimatums. Exhausted, not just from my long morning, but from the Council of Mage’s constant bombardment, I crumpled the letter—as I had done with the others—and tossed it into the ferocious fire in my hearth. I stared angrily at the crackling flames before glancing at the querian that had brought the letter. The little beast was pooped and currently sleeping on a pillow on one of my sofas. She was small and slender with leathery wings, a thick tail, and four stubby legs. Her head with its little horns was disproportionally large for her purple body. She was the spitting image of her much larger cousins, the payshthas.

I left her to her dreams, knowing she would leave as soon as she awakened. I had the boygles leave a small plate of meat and a bowl of water on the table next to her. She would need refreshment before she battled the ghastly weather outside. I walked out of the small parlor and across the entryway. To my right the front doors stood and to my left the grand staircase led to the upper levels. The rich blues of my entryway contrasted nicely with the banister carved out of the reddish wood from the ellin tree. The thick carpet under my feet partially covered the cold marble floors. An intricate Hunter’s knot pattern was woven into the carpet, and it danced under the torch lights from the candelabras gracing the walls. The knot was shaped like a head with horns that stretched out in slightly curved shapes. The lines wove in and out from each other, very similar to the Celtic knot humans loved so much on Earth.

I’d been to Earth several times—it’s in another dimension. The portal I used was located in the center of my forest, Vorgoroth.

I glanced up at the high ceiling, and the torch light illuminated another knot pattern, but this one was a circle, carved into the stone. It was the Mother’s knot, our Creator. More intricate than the Hunter’s knot, the circular pattern symbolized eternity and unity.

I strolled into the largest of the parlors—done in rich purple and white wood—walked over to a cushioned chair, and fell onto it. A male boygle tending the fire silently stepped back, bowed to me, and scuffled away. Boygles were vicious little monsters that dyed their clothes red with the blood of their kill. Despite being extremely ugly, with wrinkled skin, bulging eyes, and pointy toes and fingers, they were efficient at the chores and maintenance of a fortress as big as Geheimnis. They were a big reason why the castle was as clean and organized as she was. They were also powerful little protectors.

They had lived in the mountain Geheimnis sat upon before I’d claimed the territory as my own. I’d had to blast away half their tribe before earning their respect. Just one more distasteful but necessary thing I’d had to do in my life.

I stared at the small, decorative items on the mantelpiece over the hearth and a nice glow of pride flashed through me. Some mages used illusions to make their homes grander than they were. Not me. Everything from the topmost tower to the caverns under the mountains was real. And it was mine. I’d put my sweat and blood into this place, and I was damn proud of her. She was made to be feared. She was made to send a message—don’t fuck with the dark mage of the north. Or east. Or west. Depended on where one lived, I supposed.

Being the most hated mage of my generation was hard work.

Sighing heavily, I stared at the hearth. The large fire burned, trying to beat back the chill that penetrated the stone walls. There was no subtlety when the seasons changed this far north. When the Mother decided it was winter, it was winter; the same with summer. We didn’t get much time to enjoy the milder seasons of begsumer, and begwinter.

Right now, it was decidedly winter. Snow hadn’t yet fallen, but I expected it any day now. Geheimnis’ walls couldn’t keep out the Mother’s icy fingers. I flexed my own fingers as I stared deeper into the fire, entranced by the flickering flames. The Mother was the Creator of the universe Karishian, my home planet, resided in, and damn, did she have a wicked sense of humor. But she also had a maternal side, often visiting her children in dreams or visions, warning them of impending danger. Or she actually visited her children in the flesh—so to speak—and she could be seen as a maiden, a mature woman, or an old crone. She didn’t reside on a bejeweled throne in the heavens, nor on a dark throne in Underworld. She controlled life and death, but she didn’t rule us; she didn’t punish or reward for things we did, or if we invoked her name in battle. She lived in the background, only coming to us when she had a mind to. She didn’t dictate our actions...supposedly. She wrote the destinies of all the creatures that resided on Karishian—it was her world after all, forever until the End. But she allowed most to follow their paths to their destinies without any interference from her.

She would always be the Creator and the Destroyer, the Mother and the Blood-soaked Warrior. She had a companion, the Hunter, an entity she’d supposedly made with her own blood, intimately connecting them. According to all the legends and myths, she didn’t want us to fear her. She wanted us to respect and love her and not to dread what destinies she wrote.

Easier said than done. Especially for me. I had mixed feelings for our Mother.

I shivered. I hated winter. I remembered nights as a child, freezing in the basement of my family’s home. It was rather amazing I hadn’t died of exposure. Helpless, starving, only skin and bones. Never once knowing an affectionate touch or kindness. Alone. Hated.

Trained.

My fingers dug into the arms of the chair as my insides grew as frigid as the winds outside. I pushed to my feet and stalked to the large, enchanted one-way window that dominated the wall to my right, looking out over Vorgoroth. While I could clearly see outside, no one looking in could see inside. The wind blew harshly at my trees, bending them, ripping the last lingering leaves off their branches. The sky was gloomy—gray and overcast, threatening another storm. I clenched my jaw to keep it from chattering. Memories of my past always made me cold inside. A chill that was hard to banish, one that sank deep into my bones, threatening to snap them in half.

I scowled at myself for thinking about my childhood, for allowing that letter to shake me. I hadn’t had direct dealings with the council for several years, and I’d been grateful for that. Now that was all gone, shattered. Now I had them breathing down my neck. Again.

I was the seventh son of a seventh son, and it meant my destiny was to become a powerful and deadly mage: a destroyer. There’d been two other well-known mages with the same doomed birthright as myself, and they’d nearly destroyed Karishian on their quest for power. Many saw me as worse because I was the third one born with this dark lineage. There were certain numbers that held power in our world, and the most powerful of those were three and seven. I was the seventh son of a seventh son and the third in the line. My fellow mages feared me and wondered when I would fully embrace the darkness and become the monster they expected.

I wondered as well.

The sky darkened further, and I studied my faint reflection in the window. My face could best be described as angular and the paleness of my skin, which rarely saw the sun, highlighted my dark brown eyes and shadowy black hair. My dress was unusual for a mage. Early on, I had decided to discard the traditional robes and go for something more comfortable that didn’t hinder my movements. I wore a long jacket with a high collar and long sleeves that covered the majority of my scars. Clasps held the jacket together in the front, but at my waist it divided, allowing room for my legs to move. I wore light and breathable trousers, and my boots came up to mid-calf, buckled tightly to my legs. Everything was black, of course, but the trimming around my cuffs and collar, and the belt around my waist was silver. The belt was laden with various pouches of magickal bric-a-brac. While I was good with evocation, sometimes magick needed a subtler approach.

Turning away from the dismal view, I sat down again. Leaning into the cushy material, I forced my brain to shift toward present events. They were much more pleasant to think about. I’d just finished changing another room’s enchantments to recognize Aishe, and it would no longer treat him as an intruder.

My dialen lover always put a kingdom-wide smile on my face. He was a lover I’d only had for a few short weeks. I still delighted to remember his temper when we first met, the anger sparking in his green eyes, his impatience as he told me his name, pronouncing it Ash. It was actually a dialen word that meant one who sees. Aishe explained it meant one who sees into another’s heart or soul. Someone who sees the true self of everyone he meets. It was a hefty name to carry around, but in my opinion, he lived up to it. He’d certainly seen straight through me.

We’d met while tracking down a sorcerer named Kayl. He’d stolen a ruby named Rambujek, one of the Stones of Power. The Pferun Dulleriin. Legend said they’d been created by the first seven mages ever born. How many stones had been created, no one knew. Neither did anyone know their names, not until they were found. But they were addictive and tempting. They seduced all that approached them. Aishe’s tribe had been Rambujek’s guardian and Kayl had massacred everyone to claim it. We’d managed to kill the sorcerer, and I now had the ruby locked up in a hidden vault, along with the five other stones of power I kept hidden.

I really hated those damned things. I collected them only to keep them out of the hands of the weak and power-hungry. Those who would have no hesitation to use them. They were menaces, and Kayl had been ready to destroy all of Karishian just because he hadn’t been born as powerful as he thought he should be. Arrogant prick.

And that damn ruby was the reason the council was threatening me.

I snuggled deeper into the chair and thought of Aishe again. My smile deepened. He was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. As well as the most terrifying. Why he wanted me, I didn’t think I’d ever understand. But I was forever grateful. He was currently in Vorgoroth, exploring it, I think he said. He’d taken his quiver of arrows and his bow, so I assumed he would practice his archery as well. I wasn’t worried about him visiting the forest alone—he had the amethyst pendant I’d made years ago. I made it when I first claimed Vorgoroth and built Geheimnis. The pendant was a protective charm that would allow him to bypass all the enchantments inside Geheimnis. It also alerted the creatures that inhabited my forest that he was never to be harmed. The wichtln would protect him in my absence. They were my lieutenants and would stay loyal to me as long as I stayed powerful and formidable.

Aishe was the reason I was tired. All the enchantments in my home only recognized me and my boygle minions, and would unleash their fury upon any intruder. The amethyst pendant around Aishe’s neck kept him safe from harm, but I wanted a permanent fix—what if he lost the pendant? He would be defenseless. I couldn’t take that risk. I wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to harm him—especially me and my creations.

But changing all the enchantments in Geheimnis was no easy task. For one, I had hundreds of rooms and that meant hundreds of enchantments. Some were more complex than others, but all of them were delicate and time-consuming. I’d managed to change the enchantments for my bedroom, one of the bathrooms, and my three parlors on the ground floor, and the gargoyles that roosted on my towers now considered Aishe a friend. I’d just finished the armory, and now my stone guard dogs would never attack Aishe, with or without the pendant.

But there were still hundreds to go. I groaned and slid down in the chair. I stared at the high ceiling, shaking my head. This would take years, no doubt.

I’d managed, however, to develop a fairly sufficient process. Each room was charged with one or more crystals, acting like batteries to keep the enchantment charged with magick. I always had to pump more magick into those crystals to keep the enchantments active, but that wasn’t very difficult. But to change the enchantments, I had to deactivate the crystals and rework the enchantment. That meant I had to remember how I built the enchantment in the first place. That was the trickiest part. I had to build the enchantment again from the ground up. I also had to be careful when I removed the crystal and drained it of the magick. If I wasn’t careful, it would blow up in my face; that would hurt like a bitch. But I managed. Aishe was worth it.

Guilt gnawed at me as my mind turned back toward the three letters I’d received. The letters were from the same mage—a dog of the council—and I hadn’t told Aishe about them yet. Why worry him until I had a plan of action? I knew if I ignored the summons one or more mages would show up on my doorstep eventually. But how was I to respond with diplomacy when all I wanted to do was write, Fuck you?

I knew what the council wanted. They never stated their exact intentions in any of the letters, but I could read between the lines. They wanted Rambujek.

Not for the first time, I thought about Master Ulezander, my mentor and trainer. Maybe I should contact him; he might have a plan. He always did. But I hadn’t spoken to him in years. And it irritated me I even contemplated asking for help. I was Morgorth, for the Mother’s sake, the resident dark mage, the ruler of the Dark Forest, the Overlord of Happy Valley. I kept the kingdoms north and south of me from claiming my territory. I instilled fear in all who met me.

I shook my head. This was my battle. Master Ulezander and Aishe had nothing to do with it. This was a vendetta between me and the council, started at the moment of my birth. The moment they learned of my existence.

The large front doors of Geheimnis swung open behind me. I smiled again but didn’t move. The doors thundered close, and I could barely hear Aishe’s light footsteps on the marble floors. His boots squeaked slightly until he walked on the thick carpet, which muffled him completely. I heard the rustle of cloth and knew he was taking off the thick coat I’d had made especially for him. The boygles were skilled in many trades.

Morgorth?

In here, I said. Aishe came into my line of vision as he walked around to stand in front of me. The fire light reflected off his white hair, and I could smell the forest on him. He wore his usual tunic and leggings, though they were both a pale blue today. His eyes, a stunning green, considered me, and I knew he saw my exhaustion. But I made sure he couldn’t see my guilt. I had to handle those mages by myself. Aishe was not part of that world. I didn’t want him to be.

You look like you’re about to fall asleep. Aishe knelt in front of