Chapter One - Father Javier Moonstone

Father Moonstone sat in contemplation. The sounds of hammers and commerce rang in the distance, yet his mind was focused upon the centuries' long slumber of the gods of Rivalquinn. His red-rimmed eyes looked out toward the city; the meager light coming from his curtained window hit him full in the face and made him wince. He felt tired, in body and in spirit.

Berghoff, sitting on the edge of its namesake island overlooking the Bay of Lars, was a unique city. With most of its inhabitants being dwarves, the vast majority of buildings, archways, businesses, and homes were tailored to their shorter, broad stature. Out of all the fifteen main islands and hundreds of smaller ones that made up the known world, the Island of Berghoff was the only one so accommodating to dwarves, its most populous race. So much so that Javier had to have his home custom-built to house his taller human frame when he took up residence as a Professor-Priest at the Temple of Nethelar.

He had spent decades in the service of the God of Knowledge, particularly in the arena of academia. And arena was an apt word for it. Academia was somehow both the patient instruction of students combined with the ferocity and competitiveness of the fighting pits. To be known as an academic was to achieve celebrity. But Javier wanted to be known for far more than just writing introspective papers and letters on ancient elven culture.

It had been a full day since he left his room. The artifact eluded him, almost tauntingly so. He could see it moving in the corner of his eye, shifting from a book, to a necklace with a dark blue stone, and back to a book as he reached out to pick it up. He recoiled his hand, and the artifact shifted back to an amulet, as though it did not want to be touched in jeweled form. He felt rejected.

~~~~~~~

He had spent years trying to locate the Amulet of Nethelar, searching every book, parchment, scroll, or wax tablet he could find in an attempt to divine its location. His mild curiosity at the beginning of his search had deepened and overwhelmed his thoughts by the time he finally managed to find the correct tome – in the deep catacomb library beneath the temple, a book in remarkable condition for what was likely hundreds of years old.

Javier attuned himself and felt the palpable magic stemming from its cover. This book had been important enough to preserve through the use of both the divine magic stemming from the prayers of the faithful and arcane magic provided by mages. He looked around quickly, though he knew no one would be there.

Placing the book within his bag, he quickly walked past the shelves and skiffs of documents, both bound and not, to look at this valuable piece at home and, more importantly, in private. He ran up to the first floor of the temple to the reference desk. Even Father Moonstone knew better than to steal a book from his own temple, especially one written in a forbidden language.

The dwarven librarian turned and looked up as Javier approached the desk. “Ah, good afternoon, sir. What knowledge have you found today?”

Father Moonstone, almost nonchalantly, looked down at the spine of the book and then back up to the librarian. “It’s called Book of the Gods. And I must disclose that it is written in Elvish.” Javier nodded as the librarian’s eyes shot up. “Yes, I know. But it is a good thing us Nethelites are excluded from that censor, yes?” Javier smiled and then laughed as the librarian smiled along with him.

This fool has no idea.

The librarian wrote a few lines on his ledger, and then nodded. “Right. You are free to leave with your knowledge, Father. Please bring it back within a month.”

“Thank you, Father Coreen. Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask. Had you heard anything about the unlawful entry of the main temple about a week ago?”

Father Coreen sighed and shook his head, “No. It appears nothing was taken. Perhaps just some acolytes playing a prank.” His tone became hushed, “We suspect it was Parvel and his group, but we can’t be certain. More likely to engage in mischief than studies, those four.”

Javier pondered, then nodded, “You are probably right. Good afternoon.” He turned towards the double doors leading off campus.

On his way off the grounds of the temple, he was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he almost ran into a startled acolyte.

“Oh, pardon me, Father Moonstone. I’m terribly…”

But Father Moonstone did not stop.

“...sorry.”

Once inside the confines of his study, Javier carefully took the book out of his bag and placed it on his heavy oak desk. In Elvish script, with gold lettering embossed on a brown leather cover, said Plaga t’ba Ordo - “Book of the Gods”.

Surely a search for information will prove fruitful here.

Javier carefully flipped through the crinkled but sound pages of the section on Nethelar, looking for a particular word: Namrit. Amulet.

He scanned each and every page, methodically, until he found it near the end.

Namrit ta Nethelar

Javier jerked the page so hard he nearly ripped it straight out of the spine. Forcing himself to calm down, he took a breath and then started reading. He skipped over its history, its creation, and even its properties, until he finally saw:

Ba larinte alashar din tarinder t’ba namrit fona Bine Malin Gardine ta Berghoffe.

Javier scanned the sentence several times. The translation was simple; the words easy and simplistic.

The current owner and caretaker of the amulet is Father Malin Gardine of Berghoff.

Father Moonstone slowly began to smile. I suppose that confirms where his powers came from, then.

He wrote down the name on a slip of paper to ensure the correct spelling for when the time came and did not bother to go further into the book.

He went back to the temple library the next day. Father Coreen was on duty once again, filtering through returned scrolls when Javier stepped towards him. The Dwarven priest smiled at Moonstone. “Ah, back already?” He extended his hand to take the book.

“Actually, I can put this away myself. I have to go back down there anyway for more scrolls. You’ll mark down that I returned it?”

Father Coreen furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, then finally relented, obviously seeing no reason as to why Father Moonstone would lie. “Of course, Father.”

Father Coreen turned to his ledger and wrote a small check mark next to Javier’s entry after a brief search.

“Thank you, Father Coreen.” Javier nodded and headed towards the staircase that would take him back down. His footsteps echoed off the bare stone as he descended quickly. He found the book’s original resting place and took another look around him before peering down at the beautiful book, almost sorrowfully. But it is for the greater good.

Javier touched the medallion at his neck and focused his will on the book, seeking Nethelar’s permission to negate the magic that held the book intact… And he was not answered.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he tried again. This time, holy power sprouted from his hand like tendrils and wrapped itself around the book. The divine and arcane magic slowly began to fade, and the book with it.

As though hundreds of years had passed in a moment, the Book of the Gods aged before his very eyes. Javier slowly slid the book back onto a random shelf, and after a thought, placed a small statue of Eva in front of it. He smiled as the statue touched the spine and saw it crack along one edge. No one will be able to read it now. Now to find an old map…

~~~~~~~

Days later, he found the amulet’s resting place, buried with the former Nethelite whose ancient tombstone had been so beaten by the seasons that he could not even read the priest’s name.

All he had to go on was a graveyard map that should have turned to dust ages ago. Some of the landmarks weren’t even in existence anymore. Temples of Nethelar kept excellent records, second only to the Bureaucracy, but even magic cannot slow the inevitable effect of time on paper indefinitely.

It took him a full night to unearth the scattered bones of the priest, his wooden coffin long having given up and turned to rot. Pawing through the packed earth, he finally found it - the Amulet of Nethelar – glinting as though it had never spent a single moment underground.

He went to pick it up, its power palpable even though his hand was inches away, and the jewel shifted its shape before his eyes into that of a book. He withdrew his hand, and it turned into a jewel again.

He believed he could figure out this curiosity later. Javier intended to pick up the book and remove himself from the deep grave. A groundskeeper will find this grave and re-cover him. I have other matters to attend to.

As his hand touched the book, however, a jolt of power surged up his arm and into his chest. The Priest of Nethelar gasped so loudly a murder of crows perched nearby cawed and flew away. In his head, he heard a plea, “Open yourself.”

Javier took a breath, placing the book inside the messenger bag at his side and climbed out of the grave. He stumbled back to his gated home, aided only by his own knowledge of the area and soft moonlight, and to his bedroom, where he made a half-hearted attempt to clean himself before falling into his bed, clutching the messenger bag in his dusty hands. He drifted off into a fitful slumber, filled with dreams of sleeping gods and the One who watched over their rest.

The next morning, he was awakened by a stiff knock at the door. He crawled out of bed, groaning at his aching back, and began to lift the plate lock with one hand before he remembered what he was holding in the other. He looked down at the bag, still dirty from the previous evening, and frowned, “Who is it?”

“Father Moonstone, it is past Nine Before Bells. Your acolytes are awaiting your instructions in the lecture hall and…”

“Leave me be, whoever you are.”

“But Father M-”

“LEAVE ME BE!” The rapid padding of soft shoes on wood followed. He carefully opened the bag in his hand to see the amulet sitting amongst the now crumbled and dirty papers that included his notes regarding its location.

He reached in, praying to Nethelar to be able to hold the amulet in its true form, but when his hand got close enough, it turned back into a book. He felt himself seething.

Is this a denial? Am I being rejected? By NETHELAR?!

He grabbed the book again, expecting the same question he received the night before. He wished to answer it, but when his hand touched the leather surface, he did not receive the same jolt. Instead, he felt himself flying, as though thrown back by some mighty force to land hard. He heard the shift and felt the crunch of solid wood under him. Papers, ink, and books were strewn about randomly. It took a long moment, but he groaned and rolled to his side.

A sharp heavy pain there made him suspect he had broken some ribs in the process. Javier clutched at the small medallion at his throat and whispered a prayer for healing, which, thankfully, was answered in a far more peaceful fashion.

He stood and saw, at the door, the bag’s flap lay open with the amulet sitting beside it. He sat back down slowly and stared at it, biting his thumbnail.

Eyes narrowed, he slowly began to crawl towards the jewel, trying to discern the exact moment, the exact distance, where it turned from amulet to book. After a few tries, he determined it was roughly three inches of distance. He willed himself to not go any farther than that, as he did not want a repeat of earlier.

He closed his eyes and prayed again. I am sorry for my hubris. I have no right to this amulet. I see that now.

He tried again. He managed to get two inches away before it turned into a book.

It took another day, and another fit of yelling at a visitor to be left alone, before he got the distance to one inch. He spent the entire day and well into the evening in prayer, extolling the virtues of knowledge and humility.

Every so often, he would stop his praise to extend his hand toward the amulet. Finally, after the sun had set, he expected that to be enough prayer and set his hand on the artifact. It turned into a book, but the voice returned.

“Why do you seek the power within this amulet? “

He inhaled sharply and replied with an exhale, “To awaken the gods from their torpor. To awaken Nethelar.”

“To be known as the one who awakened Nethelar.”

He paused and felt the outrage return, “What does that matter?!” The amulet did not reply for a moment, then whispered again: “If you open yourself to this power, it may consume you.”

He nervously licked his lips, “I am willing to risk it.”

“Very well. Open yourself.”

He gripped the book and felt it turn into an amulet in his hand. The burning pain shot up his arm again, even more intense this time. As the amulet flew out of his rigid grip and slammed into his chest, he could not help but scream.