Chapter 1 The beginnings
The old wizard lay motionless staring out onto the world, his thoughts played out before him as he clung on to life. A single candle lit up the small room which had been his surroundings for the past months. The last great protector of Utopia had arrived at the end of his journey in this world. Darkness filled the night sky as the wizards two apprentices came to sit at his bedside. “Father, can you hear me?” said the youngest of them, the Magician as he was known to those who knew of him. “He’s gone he can’t hear us anymore” said Morwell who had a haggard face which made him look older than he actually was. The two young wizards stared at each other as they realised life was coming to an end for their great teacher. “Is there anything you want us to do for you” said the Magician. At that the wizard slowly turned to the two apprentices, his frail hand came up to clutch the stone around his neck. Orange shades of light burst through the pale wizards hand as the stone clung to the chain around his neck. “Protect the stones, protect the stones” said the old wizard. Morwell and the Magician moved a little closer to hear the whispers of an old man who knew his time was up. “We can’t control their power father” said Morwell. “No, no you must conceal them until the protectors are found. Only then can the world be in light once more” said the wizard as his hand started to slip from the stone. “Yes father, we will do as you wish. The stones will be kept safe.” said the Magician. He looked up with a smile and the wizard was finally at peace, his hand fell from his chest and his journey was at an end. The apprentices put their hands over their adopted father’s body and said the ancient prayers to the old gods asking them to receive their teacher into the afterlife. The magician put his hands over the eyes of the wizards and closed them for the last time; he took the chain from his neck and carefully held it in his hands. “We must go to the tower” said the Magician. Morwell stood over his father nodding his head as to say goodbye and followed the Magician out the door. They headed for the tallest tower in the castle, barely drawing breath let alone speaking to each other. As they began to climb the stairs of the tower, the Magician took out a large set of keys from his cloak making sure all the while never to lose a grasp of the stone. Finally they reached the top and were greeted by a large door blocking their path. The magician chooses a key from the bunch, he was sure this was the key and placed it into the lock but it would not open. Morwell had a little smirk on his face “His last little test” he said. “The old magic” said the Magician smiling as he appreciated the joke. “Do you remember the words?” asked Morwell. “Of course I do” replied the younger wizard sharply. They both kneeled before the door and said the words taught to them by their father. “Arman Versaco Dillota Bertacio”. The words rang through the air and hit the door bursting it open as the young wizards got to their feet. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see what’s behind this door” said Morwell. Turning the handle of the door the Magician walked into the room at the highest point in the castle swiftly followed by Morwell. There was nothing fancy or decadent in the room at all just five little tables sat in a circle in the middle of the room with a large glass window placed between the stones. Nothing else was in there, nothing at all but the tables. On top of the tables there were little bowls in which four of them held the remaining gemstones. The magician walked round to the table that was empty and placed the last stone onto to the table. “We must look after the stones until they choose their protectors” said the Magician. “Finally they are together at last, the sacred stones of Utopia lying side by side. Think of the power one could possess if we could harness the power of the five stones” Morwell said. The young apprentice walked round the room staring at the stones as he walked. “They are not ours to use, we can’t control the power the stones can produce” said the Magician. “How do you know? If we work together we could control it” said Morwell staring at the little stones. “Why do you want the power of the stones” the Magician said. “Don’t you see, we could rule the world and everything in it. The creatures, men, sea monsters every living thing would be under our control” said Morwell. The young wizard’s stared at each other from across the room, each of them knew they had to make the first move. “We were entrusted to keep the stones save, l won’t let you use them to enslave the world.” said the Magician. As Morwell stepped forward to attack, the Magician unleashed a thunderbolt from his hands which struck Morwell in the chest knocking him across the room. The Magician picked up the stones and took them from their wraps; he sat them on the floor in the corner of the room. The stones began to glissing in the moonlight, there colours shone brighten that they had done in years. Red, Blue, Green, Purple and Orange there light seemed to dance across the room giving the whole place light. The magician knelt over the stones and with his eyes closed he muttered some ancient words. Louder and louder his voice became and as he got louder the colour of the stones got brighter and more powerful. His body began to shake as the power of the stones rushed through him making him weaker. All of a sudden the stones lifted in the air above the head of the Magician swirling round in a circle they let off sparks of light around the room. Morwell awakened and got to his feet to see the stones over his head, the wizard tried to walk forward to get to the Magician but the magic was too strong. “Stop, you are not strong enough” shouted Morwell as a force field of power blocked his path. He was right; the strength of the Magician was fading in front of his eyes. The once young man had aged dramatically; the stone’s power had sucked the life from him. He conjured up one last bit of energy and shouted “Unlatis Enfigya”. The stones shot up through the roof of the castle into the night smashing the glass window as they went leaving a trail of colour behind them. Morwell ran over to the window trying to get a glimpse of their path but they were too fast, they rushed up and over the world like shooting stars much too fast for anybody to track. The Magician lay motionless in the corner of the room, his old frail body was drowned by the robes he had on. “You fool what have you done; you gave your life for nothing. I will find the stones and when l do the world will bow to me” said Morwell. He picked up the old wizard with ease and held him out of the window above the water that surrounded them. “You were always weak brother, l have no use for weakness” he said. Morwell dropped the Magician from the window; his body tumbled down from the top of the castle into the water below and disappeared as quickly as it hit the water. He stood looking down showing absolutely no remorse for his actions, he was actually glad as if he had been waiting to do that for a long time. Morwell stared out at the sky; his focus was on one thing and one thing only now, getting the stones back at any cost.
