The Helm's Tooth

He sat by the soothing fire, weary and unconscious of the stillness that surrounded him. He shivered; the coldness crept up his spine and made his hair stand on end.
“What happened?” He asked himself, for he awoke that very morning cheerful as he always was. He awoke as a Meer-folk, the jolliest and most mischievous of the creatures that roamed the Earth.
Now here he was, dirtied with smoke, mud, and blood—the blood of his kin. An ambush had occurred just moments ago. The Purds. These were the foulest of creatures. They show no mercy and will pillage and plunder villages in search for food and jewels. But there was that one certain Jewel that they sought out for: The Helm’s Tooth they wished to destroy it for it would destroy them.
He grimaced at the very thought of it, guilty and ashamed because it was on his account that there was bloodshed in his village of Meer. He knew of the potent danger the jewel beheld for it was introduced to him by the Elders, they who taught him young about the world and its secrets, it was his task to do so. But he was a very special child, indeed, already destined at birth to protect the Tooth from anyone who would try to take it for his own doing.
Now he knew that his duty was in its pinnacle. He must now take the Tooth to the peak of Mt. Hyacith, the highest peak in all the land and there he shall expel all its power unto the gates of Charia to destroy; the territory of where all evil is born. And then at last the Jewel will be as ordinary as Sapphire, laid to rest for all eternity.
He must hasten. This all must be done before the week turns too many and the moon changes its shape. It will not be an easy task, he thought. This mission will lead him out of his country and onto the path to Mt. Hyacith so dark and malicious that no being could ever rid it of its interior. He was not frightened so, because the Elders had given him special armour as a boy made of Bonsworth, the cloth of the Great Soldiers. This would protect me, he thought to himself.
He then gathered whatever provisions he would acquire on his journey and hitched it all unto his horse whose name lingered as Whitefall, descendant of the Gladial herd. He put the Jewel safe in his robes. He rode on. Leaving his dead village behind him, never to return again for he knew that this mission would surely take his life but for the better. He rode on day and night, stopping only to eat and rest his horse. Danger snuck close behind him, he could sense that Purds were close afoot.
As he was riding the night, he brought to mind the day the Elders bestowed upon him this great burden. “Come child, come with me and do not bring fear with you” said Henfir the Elder. He had led him into the downtown of the village. “Do you know why the Elders and I have been teaching you of the mysteries and legends of the world around you, Artemuth?” for that was the boy’s name. “No Master Henfir, I don’t” replied the innocent boy. The old man reached for something in his satchel and it must have been heavy because he groaned a bit. He had brought out a circular object a bit bigger than his fist and it was wrapped in old sheepscloth. It intrigued the boy. “What is that, Master, can I see it?” the boy asked so eagerly that his own eagerness had made him want to touch it. “Do not speak in vain boy, for this which I have brought out will determine your fate and that of the rest of the world.” Henfir spoke crossly, Artemuth knew this tone of voice and he remained silent and waited for the Elder to speak again. “We have taught you well, haven’t we?” he asked. “Yes Master, you have.” The boy replied in pride. “Then it is time to give you the Helm’s Tooth.” Artemuth heard of this before in one of the stories of the Elders. “You know of its power, Artemuth. Let no one else take it from you. It is yours to protect. Until the day you bring it onto the highest mountain.” Henfir explained to Artemuth his task and taught him the words of the Ancient of which he must recite to unleash the power of the Jewel cast it on Charia so that the world and its people will be safe once more. “Am I really the right person for this, Master Henfir?” Artemuth asked in disbelief. “You doubt yourself, boy? We wouldn’t have chosen you for this great task that we know is for only the bravest, strongest, and most intelligent of the Meer-folk if the Jewel-Bearer is in doubt of himself.” Hearing these words of praise, Artemuth suddenly felt strength in him, and it rid him of his fear of not being able to complete the task before him. “You’ve made the right choice then, Sir. You chose me.”, said the boy boldly. “Right then, on to your combat training.” Henfir said, smiling at the boy.
Artemuth frowned upon remembering his mentor for so long. Henfir had died of old age just before Artemuth reached his coming of age. He can still hear his Master’s voice and his final message before he passed: “Artemuth, do not grieve for me. I am always with you in spirit. Complete your task and it shall be your everlasting valor. Generations after you will still remember your name: Artemuth the Jewel-Bearer. Do not forget what I have taught you and it will save you.”
Artemuth stopped Whitefall on her feet. The air, he sensed it to be too still, as if it waited for a surprise. He looked far ahead; Mt. Hyacith was not far from where he was. Zoom! An arrow had just past him and shot past a boulder. He looked at its end; it was a Purd’s. “Go Whitefall! Run like the wind is taking you!” ordered Artemuth, I must outrun them, he thought. More arrows had whizzed past him. He looked back they were fewer than he imagined, maybe ten or so. The filthy, monsters were right on his tail. He began to climb the mountain, dodging the arrows as best as he could. Without warning, Whitefall fell dead. Too many arrows had pierced her flesh. Artemuth had fallen with her and lay beside her. “No! Dear Whitefall, do get up!” Artemuth cried. He had had her since she was a calf. She fought beside him ‘til the very end. The Purds surrounded him with their swords directed at his neck. “Where is the Jewel, Meer-fellow?” one of the Purds commanded, he seemed to be their leader. “I know nothing of which you speak.” Artemuth answered furiously. “Kill him!” the Purd Leader shouted but just before the stroke of their swords reached his skin, a number of arrows shot across from above him piercing into the chests of the monsters. He looked up. He never saw a more beautiful being in his life. Her perfect form of shooting arrows was mesmerizing; her long golden hair was elegant. “Get out of here, Artemuth son of Heggisnuth!” she said as she looked down upon him. She jumped down, already finished killing all of the Purds.
“Who are you, stranger? I am indebted to you.” He said with a graceful bow. “No you do not, Sir. I am Myowen daughter of Asuthwen of the Evvish kind. Master Henfir came to me long before and sent me to protect you on the day you pursued your destiny.” she said. “How do I know that I can trust you, stranger?” he asked defensively. “I was asked to give you this.” She said while holding out her hand and on it, Henfir’s Meerish necklace. Artemuth almost wept upon receiving this ornament that once belonged to his beloved mentor. “He had wanted to wear It.” she said gently, “Come, my Lord, the peak is at foot’s distance we must make haste” he reluctantly followed her, he felt hurt and just wanted to go home, he thought aloud, “ Why is my fate, my destiny? I had not chosen this. I want it all to go away.” “Artemuth, your predecessors chose this for you because they found such greatness in you. A certain strength that may come easily to you, but not to others. That is why.” She explained to him, remembering word for word what Henfir told her.
They climbed higher for three days and the way up became more difficult and much colder. “Keep up, m’lord,” she said, “only a few steps more.” And indeed it was. A few moments later and both of them were on the top of the mountain Artemuth ventured for. A wave of relief came over him as he sighed. “Artemuth, it is time to cast the spell to destroy evil.” Myowen reminded him. Artemuth blinked back to reality. All this effort, all this bloodshed was just to say a few magic words. “You can say it can’t you, Myowen?” he said weakly, he did not want this valor anymore. “Although the words are Evvish, they are yours to say my Lord you are the Jewel-Bearer.” She replied. He took the Jewel out of his robes and unbound it from its dressing. He held it above his head and bellowed, “ɜ̟̔d LjĂ˥̉orstuπΣσô σű ˩ƿ̊yu įɞ̨ ñasƒ∽z! Bring your power forth and cast it upon the fiery gates of Charia to destroy!” just as he said it, a powerful surge of energy enraged the exterior of the Jewel and sent it to the center of Charia where it burst with power and burn the city to the ground. The whole phenomenon used up all Artemuth’s strength that he fainted.
He awoke to the smell of lavender and the soothing sound of the river. He realized that he was no longer on the mountain. “Myowen?” he called out. She came in the room with food, water, and clean clothes. “Where am I, dear Myowen?” he asked, relieved to see her beautiful face. She sat down next to him. “You are in my home in the village of Rivendeve.” She said smiling. She leaned closer to him as did he hoping to lay his lips upon hers. “You may rest now, Artemuth for danger is gone forever.” He was quite disappointed and lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Myowen.” He said with the deepest of gratitude. And then he felt a soft touch of skin on his lips. And he opened his eyes to see Myowen looking deep into his.