The Stone

Europe, 1944

"Down!" A sharp voice screamed out. As one, the squad dropped to their stomachs and covered their heads. This was immediately followed by strafing fire from a German fighter plane. All around men died, their dismembered and bloodied bodies lying silently in death; others cried out in pain or fear.

Cassius White uncovered his head and warily scanned the sky. Noting it was clear, he gave the order to care for the wounded then resume their advance. His calm demeanor never changed; even as he scanned the faces of dead brothers-in-arms. "Move it boys, we have to make Charlie Camp by nightfall. We don't want to get caught out with the Krauts at night." His usually handsome face was covered in dust and grime, a result of constant battle.

"Captain!" A Corporal hailed him.

"What is it Peterson?" Cassius snapped.

The Corporal gulped as he hurried alongside his Captain, "We are all out of Anti-Tank."

Cassius grimaced and turned his head back to look at his exhausted men, "Keep this between us Corporal, the men don't need anything else to worry about." He frowned, "We will just have to do without for next several hours. Best pray we don't encounter any Krauts." The Corporal nodded and trotted back to his position.

Cassius sighed inwardly; over the past four years he had watched friends die and been forced to kill countless enemies. His only goal was to win the war and save as many of his brothers as possible. His wife had died several years before the war, leaving him to care for their sickly son on his own. The boy had died a year ago; his sickness had finally won out. This prompted Cassius, a thirty-year old man; to enlist in the army shortly before WWII. Through dedication and courage; he had soared through the ranks to Captain.

For two hours they jogged and crept through the crumbled city streets. Not once did they encounter a single soul: ally or enemy. Cassius only grew more concerned and wary the further they went through the silent town. Things were quiet; much too quiet. Alpha squad hadn't heard from Charlie in over three days, and they had no other choice then to make their way there. Charlie was the only Allied encampment within fifteen miles.

Cassius signaled a halt with his fist as they approached the outskirts of town. He waved for Corporal Peterson. "Corporal. Take two men and scout ahead, make sure you are not discovered by anyone. I fear something is amiss." The Corporal nodded his head; he silently moved ahead alongside two Privates. It was almost dusk, so he hoped that if there happened to be enemies at Charlie; then Peterson wouldn't be discovered.

Cassius narrowed his eyes in concern after twenty minutes; the Corporal had yet to return. His squad was down to five men without the three scouts; not nearly enough to survive an enemy onslaught. He took a deep breath and turned to his men, "I don't think the boys are returning. We have two options, bunker down somewhere and wait for reinforcements; or, find out what the fuck is going on with Charlie." He paused time let it sink in, "So, what is it boys?" He asked quietly.

They all chose option two, they weren't about to leave three of their friends for the Germans. They quickly made a plan and waited for the last of the daylight to disappear and then fanned out in a staggered line. They crept through the rumble and quietly approached Charlie. They all dropped down behind cover when a shrill scream echoed through the town; bouncing off the ruined buildings and debris.

Cassius steeled his nerves and crawled forward to a chunk of concrete that had been blasted into the street by a tank. He took a deep breath and peered over the edge; his heart stopped and his eyes glazed over. There in the middle of Charlie camp was the most beautiful item he had ever seen; it was a stone that shone pure Crimson. It called out to his soul and ensnared his heart.

Surrounding the stone were the corpses of both Allied and Germans soldiers alike. They were all charred and blackened. In his mind he screamed at his body to stop, but it continued sluggishly towards the stone on its own. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his men staggered to the gorgeous stone as well. His friends all died as they approached the stone; their greed overcoming all sense. No matter what Cassius did; his body would not obey his commands. His soul felt completely drawn to the strange and beautiful stone.

His heart cried out in terror and sadness as the last of his friends died to a mysterious, crimson stone. Yet, he couldn't stop his fate. His body kept walking, passing the charred remains of his squad. A horrible pain lanced through his head as his hands clasped the stone. A deep voice echoed in his mind as he lost consciousness, "United at last..."

****

Telon

He smiled down at his work, enjoying the beauty of the nearly bloomed Moon-Lillies. With a sun weathered hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow. With a content sigh, he lifted the giant hoe onto his shoulders and left his garden. He passed rows and rows of flowers; Roses, Daisies, Lillies, and many more exotic types. In his long life he had found peace in the simple, but delicate task of gardening. It brought joy to his very soul and often calmed his troubled mind.

He made his way to a simple wooden cottage; where he removed the straw hat that rested atop his head. His hair had been freshly shaven, and little strawberry blonde remained. He stripped off the dirt-stained shirt, revealing ancient script that covered his muscular back. His tan skin glistened in the setting sun, a pleased smile planted on his kind face. As he approached the door to his cottage, a giant black wolf bounded to him; it's tongue lapping around.

"Wulf!" He laughed and dropped to his knees to pet his happy companion. His voice was soft and noble, "I have something for you inside." He grinned when the wolf barked in excitement, "Come along now." He stood and reached for the handle.

As he opened the door, his eyes were drawn to the sky. Great thunder shook the earth, followed by a crimson flash across the pink horizon. The runes on his back flared brightly; white light radiating from them. The man's eyes locked on those of the Wolf; a grim expression replaced his usually calm one, "And so it begins..."

****

In a chamber deep under the White Mountains; a beautiful, gold encrusted sword lay deeply embedded in marble. The hilt was forged from Blood Stone and was deep crimson. The pommel was shaped into the head of a roaring dragon with beautiful ruby eyes. The blade of the sword was completely black; bright golden runes lined its breadth.

The sword was ancient, crafted during the reign of the Elder Gods; yet, it had never lost it's beauty nor edge. It had not been moved since its wielder died; Irian, the Dragon God. The eerie serenity was disrupted by deep, echoing thunder. The thunder shook the mountain; the ancient chamber walls crumbled throughout the giant mountain complex. A golden throne some leagues above was buried in stone.

A crimson flash shot across the skies of Telon, directed somewhere on the continent. The sword chamber shook, but not a single stone crumbled nor cracked. The ancient sword flashed crimson and shone brightly for the first time in countless millennia...