CHAPTER
EIGHT--Queens Gambit
Though he wore a crown, N'Str'D'Ms--or Nostradamus, as the rest of
Islay called him--was no true king. And though he sat upon a throne, there
was nothing regal or noble in his bearing, for Nostradamus had long since
left behind the world of men to embrace the world of shadows and
darkness.
For over seven centuries of time, as men counted it, he had sat upon the
throne of Serpen atop the First School of Sorcery. And unlike those who made
up his Conclave--themselves Liches of great power--Nostradamus had never
consciously turned to Sorcery as a means to pass from life into unlife; the
Sorcery itself had, of its own accord, turned him into what he was. He had
welcomed and embraced the power of Hell beneath him and the throne and crown
that were tied to it, allowing Hells power to flow into him, becoming
one with it, inhaling it and bending it to his will before finally breathing
it out again.
Yet even as he had sought to subjugate that power to his will, that power,
in turn, crafted him into its own image. Where once had been a man, there
remained only the grotesque, skeletal remnants of a human now able to sustain
life only through the power of death. Eyes that might once have been able
to look upon others with love or mercy now burned with anger, hatred, envy,
and every other emotion of evil--all of which grew, century after century,
as the Liches existence lingered while its humanity was left further
behind in the mists of its memories.
So far behind it was the Light that the Liche had long since passed the point
where it could even make a choice to turn from the Darkness. Now, only hatred
powered the creature, and the degree of good will one might have had with
the Liche varied with the degree of hatred it felt toward
him. Those he favored--if the word
favored could be used--he may have felt no more than disdain
or resentment toward, tempered by their usefulness to him.
But his enemies were a different matter entirely: To them was reserved an
implacable hatred and thirst for vengeance that only Hell could produce--for
hatred drove Nostradamus. Hatred tormented Nostradamus. Hatred strengthened
Nostradamus. Nostradamus hated everything and everyone--starting with the
Lord of Darkness who had given him the life, he now knew. Where
in his youth he had served Asmodeus with zeal as he sought aid to climb above
his many fellows, he now hated him with as much fervor as he had ever served
the God of Darkness with.
The favor and power of Asmodeus had granted him sovereignty over both the
School and Hocwrath--but now, after having served him century after
century, Nostradamus kingdom comprised no more than the central tower
of the School. Only here, in his Throne room, was he at his full power. Outside
it, his powers quickly began to weaken to those no greater than that of a
mighty human wizard.
Beyond the central complex of the Upper School, normally open only to himself
and his Conclave, death awaited--for only the strongest level of power flowing
through the Throne room out to the remainder of the School could now keep
the monsters body from collapsing to dust.
Thus it was, that the most powerful being in Hocwrath rotted, waited and
sought some means apart from Hells mocking mercy to prolong its existence
no matter how empty that existence was.
Thirty seasons or so past, the Liche nearly had its chance. Into its life
had come a man of mystery. A man named Baltar Revenwood--or so he called
himself--who somehow knew what ten thousand years of Schoolmasters did not:
the true fate of both Goth and his master, Serpen; and the possible resting
place of his Mind Sapphire, that portable focus of the School Serpen
had crafted with the aid of Asmodeus, which permitted the original Lord of
Hocwrath to carry with him the full power of Hell that flowed through the
two Schools.
A team of skilled treasure hunters, led by Revenwood, had been procured to
seek it deep inside the Land of Shadows, the deadly region of mystery beyond
the inhabited lands of Hocwrath. And but for the youthful capriciousness
of one of them, the Mind Sapphire would have been his. But the half-elf,
Cormorant TenTolliver, had found and secreted the precious device on his
person, and by so doing Nostradamus lost his chance at
immortality.
If he could have but donned the necklace of the golden cobra and the large
sapphire set into it, the Talisman would have preserved him for as long as
the life energy of those slain by the possessor lasted. Not only could he
have left the tower--but he could have left the School itself. Not only could
he have left the School, but with the power of both the Crown
and the Sapphire, his Sorcery would have been amplified
tenfold
or perhaps a hundredfold--there was no way to know. He suspected
it all depended entirely on how much of the life energy stored in the device
that the wielder chose to direct into his spells.
He would have eagerly experimented, for life energy was cheap to come by--and
Nostradamus could have found untold numbers of victims whose souls could
power the device.
But he would never get the chance to experiment, for the young half-Elf had
stolen the Talisman. And though Nostradamus had sent a Leviathan to slay
and loot the group as they left for their homelands, somehow that boy and
a young Dwarf had escaped the clutches of the monster, though no one realized
it then.
In time, the half-elf activated the most basic powers of the device when
he slew some nameless person. From that point on, he became the man known
as Nightshadow, and the Sapphire became bound to him, protecting
him in battle and making him all but invulnerable. Today he was feared as
the most powerful swordsman in Islay.
And Nostradamus had made that possible, for that was the fruit of the
mistake.
But now, perhaps, this was about to change. Through the vanity of an important
relative of the half-Elf, he would be given a second chance. In her own desperate
quest for eternal youth, she would soon come to him--and she would bring
Nightshadow with her, for only with him at her side could she have hope of
standing against the Lord of the First School. Then what should have been
his would be his! And once it was, all Islay would fall to him, starting
with Throckmorton, the thorn in his side for centuries.
Master of the Second School--Goths original School--Throckmorton was
nearly equal in power to himself, despite being much younger. His School
was almost a duplicate of Nostradamus. Both Liches had armies of equal
size quartered in the outer wings of their Schools, but neither relied on
these to keep them in power; they were only for enforcing the joint edicts
both were forced to agree upon when circumstances called for it, or to keep
the Schools of Disdoma--the other great city in Hocwrath--in subjection to
Serpenalik. Otherwise, these mercenaries--whose loyalty varied with what
they were paid, or how much they were afraid--served no true
purpose.
No, it was the sheer numbers of wizards and Necromancers in both Schools
that held steady the delicate scales of balance between the two opposing
forces. Throckmorton could never defeat the more-powerful Nostradamus, but
neither could Nostradamus defeat the Second School without weakening his
own so much that he would be at the mercy of Hocwraths remaining Schools.
This gave Lord Draconerius, master of the Third School, a relatively safe
position as a neutral third party in the city.
Heading a School nowhere near as powerful as the two great Schools, Draconerius
was too little of a threat for the other two Liches to bother with, for all
their attention was devoted to out-maneuvering each other. Thus, Draconerius--and
all of Islay--was spared the wrath of the Liches as each dwelt together in
acrimonious harmony with the other, ever-watching, ever-planning, ever-hoping
for the other to make the one mistake...the one false move...the one
miscalculation that would give his eager enemy the advantage that could spell
his opponents doom at an acceptable cost.
The opportunity had never come, but now, Nostradamus sensed as the two Gypsies
approached the Throne room more quickly than usual, the time might be at
hand.
There was nothing that Madam Olga and Sonja hated more than being in the
presence of Nostradamus each dawn and each dusk to report the results of
their divinations. Every day, the message was the same: Not yet. But
this night, as dusk was falling, their message would be different. With luck,
this would be their final meeting with the Liche before they would be free
to return with their caravan to Sarvia--this time, with the wealth that would
buy them their freedom once and for all from the Boyars and
Cossacks.
Together, they hurried across the great causeway above the Pit toward the
two great doors of engraved gold that sealed off the Liches Throne
room from the rest of his huge basalt tower. They opened of their own accord,
for the Liche knew they were coming--he always knew--and the two Gypsies,
one old, the other much younger, heads lowered, entered into the shadowed
gallery beyond that was lit only by the glowing runes upon the huge onyx
throne atop a dais at the other end of the chamber. Neither dared look up
to see the two pinpoints of red light staring back at them from the recess
of the throne, which also hid the half-skeletal/half-incorporeal body of
the shade seated in it.
Drawing near, the pair dropped to their knees before the throne and leaned
forward to touch their heads to the ground in an act of ultimate
obeisance.
She approaches even now, Lord, Madam Olga, the older Gypsy, said
in a thick Sarvian accent without looking up.
And? came the hoarse response from the throne.
We foresee death, Lord--obviously hers.
Do you think me stupid, that you must explain that to me? the
irritated sibilation questioned.
Neither woman spoke, but they merely shook in unison, knowing that the slightest
thing said in error spelt instant death.
The fact that the most powerful wizard in ten thousand years had to lower
himself to seek counsel from Gypsies was loathsome. But detestable as that
fact was, none could deny they possessed a unique gift in being able to divine
the future. This acquiescence to utilizing them, however much he resented
it, would pay off by the destruction of all his foes through their advance
warning of his enemies movements.
How ironic, thought the Liche, that with all he had been able to accomplish.
and with his growing power over time itself, he had to rely on these two
women. But now the end had come. They had served their purpose. His enemies
had been over a year in planning their attack--and he had been over a year
in planning his defense. He knew the day soon approached when they would
come--but the precise day he could not know of his own accord.
But now, with the Gypsies warning, his would actually be the first
move.
They would come through the tunnels, of course--just as that other Witch
had done a few years previously. These enemies would fare better, naturally,
and he expected them to reach the catacombs at the bottom of the Lower School.
Most of them would undoubtedly die there, and it was a matter of speculation
just how many of the rest would actually manage to reach the Upper School
where his main defenses awaited.
Not that the plan was ever to slay the intruders outright--that would have
been simple, of course. The power of the Liche and his School could lay waste
to any number of Witches and warriors who managed to infiltrate the complex.
Had he wanted, most of them--from the Witch on down--would be piles of ash
before they had taken their twentieth step inside the School.
But that would have left Nightshadow alive, and with everyone else dead he
would simply leave, and no one could stop him. That, or lay waste to the
School with everyone in it powerless to stop him.
No, the plan was to draw the invaders deeper into the web, weakening them
a step at a time--weakening all of them, but particularly Nightshadow himself.
In the end, as they neared the very center of the web where the spider
awaited--deceived into thinking they were advancing toward victory--Nightshadow
would finally be vulnerable. Then the Queen would enter the game and finish
them.
All these musings had taken but a moment of time in the Liche's mind, and
just as quickly as he had rebuked Madam Olga, he was again speaking to
her.
What do your tea leaves say about Throckmorton? the Liche now
demanded.
The leaves say Throckmorton will not attack you. There will be no battle
between the two Schools tonight.
The Liches eyes then exploded in color, and blood burst out of every
pore of the old Gypsy. Screaming, the old woman writhed in agony for several
moments until she finally lay still, a large pool of blood beneath
her.
The burning red eyes now turned toward the other Gypsy.
What do your cards say about tonight, Gypsy? the Liche
calmly asked the younger Sonja.
Nearly unable to function, Sonja raised a single tarot card. Despite the
fact the card was vibrating in unison with her trembling hand, the Liche
easily discerned the picture of a tower being destroyed by lightning. Satisfied,
he now debated whether to slay the Gypsy for the temerity of using her wits
to try and prolong her life by saying nothing and letting him draw his own
conclusions. However, it was closest thing to humor that hed experienced
in decades, so he willed to let the Gypsy live until morning when he'd be
certain her skills were no longer needed.
Yours is the correct interpretation, he finally said. If
she is coming now, then she has already sought alliance with Throckmorton.
He has rejected it, naturally, and now waits to see how she will fare. He
knows she has little chance to defeat me, but if she does--or if she weakens
me sufficiently and escapes--he plans to launch his own attack. In the meantime,
he makes no direct preparations, lest he arouse my suspicions or risk my
retribution for failing to warn me of her plans. If I do defeat her, he knows
he can never overcome me, thus he does nothing to kindle my ire beforehand,
lest he need me to show mercy once I place him in a position where he never
can be a threat to me. The Fool! I will destroy him simply because
he is no threat. So indeed there will be battle between the
Schools tonight regardless, and his School shall fall to me! Your mother
should have been more careful with her interpretation.
She wasnt really my mother, Sonja thought, and thank you
for getting her out of the way. Now if we can just finish this and
leave for home in the morning....
Reading her mind, the Liche nearly chuckled.
Precopius, Nostradamus then called out.
Silently, a second Liche moved out of a darkened alcove to the side of the
dais and bowed its head.
Only you are to know of my plans for Throckmorton. Martial our forces--but
do so quietly, and keep them out of the catacombs. Order all Masters, Acolytes
and Apprentices capable of summoning to bring forth every Nether creature
they can. As Revenwood is gone, Nabonidus is to place our forces in defensive
positions around the lower levels and inform the commanders they are to be
on specific guard against a possible attack by the Second School of Sorcery.
We will let Throckmortons spies amongst us believe our position is
only one of defense. Then you are to place the Conclave in position and assure
they know that if any of the burglars survive to reach Liliths
temple, they best not pass the temple unless each of the Conclave
is a pile of dust on the floor.
The second Liche bowed.
And, Precopius--that goes for you as well.
Precopius froze for a moment. He no longer had enough muscles left to show
any emotion on his facial features, but the displeasure showed in his eyes,
whose pinpoints of light narrowed at the comment.
Nostradamus paid it no mind.
Once our burglars are slain and I have retrieved the
Mind Sapphire off Nightshadow, he continued, I will
personally lead our remaining forces against the Second School, and we will
destroy it and Throckmorton once and for all. You and the Conclave will remain
behind, of course.
The Liche turned his glance to the quivering, silent Gypsy.
Why are you still here? Leave the scrolls youve managed to make
for me, and get out. Assemble your assassins and pray they do not fail me
or I will show you more shed Gypsy blood in one night than she has spilt
in her entire life. And cause no harm to that long-haired Bard if she is
with them!
Keeping her head lowered, Sonja removed a sack from beneath her cloak and
placed it on the ground. Then she arose and hurried away--not too fast, lest
the Liche be offended, and not too slowly, lest he think she was
dawdling.
This chess game is over, the Liche hissed as she departed. In
one night, I achieve immortality, the destruction of Throckmorton and his
School, and the death of Nightshadow and Raven TenTolliver. So, the
Liche said to the air, hasten to my welcome embrace--little
Witch!
The last comment was made with such venomous hatred that Sonja almost felt
sorry for Ravens having to endure whatever the Liche had in store from
her.
Behind, the two portals slammed shut and thankfully Sonja was left alive
and alone.
All too quickly, the sun was gone and night overspread its shadowy wings
upon the world, bringing with it a disquieting fear to the Bard. Somehow,
with the sun out, she felt far safer than she did as the shadows fell, for
night was the realm of the Undead.
The Widow took no notice and used the darkness to her own advantage,
continuing unseen with her lamps out. It didnt take long for the mist
to begin, and dew started to form on the surfaces of the vessel as a heavy
spring fog settled over the coast. The stars were the first to vanish, hidden
by the haze, then the sea below was lost in a carpet of mist, and in a few
moments the bow of the ship began fading from view as the fog
thickened.
All of a sudden, it was as if they had passed into the Ethers, for the fog
became as thick as one might find on the dreariest night upon a Torrencian
moor. Doremi had been in those before. When they were this bad, all you could
do was stop where you were at until it burned off the next day--that, or
wander off to your death in a pit you couldnt see or a bog you
couldnt detect until you were knee-deep in quicksand. The last thing
youd do was try and make your way out of it.
Cyllindrethifl broke the eerie silence.
I see the coast, she spoke. Youll hear the surf
soon.
Mere glad youre able to see that! Fosmo exclaimed,
squinting. Cant see me hand in front of me
face!
Raven chuckled. That was part of our plan. The fogs in April are thick
to start with, and Cyllindrethifl researched a spell to make the mist twice
as bad as it is even normally. Shes stuck the mountains surrounding
the First School in a pea soup so thick--
Will we be able to take a boat to shore without wrecking in fog this
bad? a concerned Romulus broke in, looking over to her.
Actually...were not taking a boat, Romulus, Raven replied.
In fact, were not coming up through the tunnels at
all.
Her words hit them all like a blow from a mace as they realized precisely
what she meant.
You mean were going to fly this whole ship into the
School?! Doremi gasped.
Precisely, Espidreen answered.
Romulus opened his mouth to gripe, then halted and instead let out a
breath.
Why not? he finally exclaimed. Its no madder than
any other part of this plan.
Is that even possible? Doremi asked. Wont the
enchantments make the ship fall out of the sky when it passes over the
School?
We already tested the wheel last year, answered Cyllindrethifl,
glancing over to her. We put it on a boat and flew right over the Upper
School with no problems. The wheels enchantment is greater than that
of the School. The ship can fly straight in.
Wi the fog a-hidin us, eh? Mac Tavish spoke with
a grin. I like it. This plans good as if a Highlanderr made it
up!
Cyl, Raven now spoke, leaning in toward the Elf, swing
to the southwest and come up through the bay. I want to come at the School
from the west, flying over the city, rather than approach from the back of
the School.
Cyllindrethifl quickly looked back to her mistress, the worry evident on
her face.
Raven, that will take us too close to the Second School, and Throckmorton!
The east way is the quickest, and will give us the best chance of surprise.
That was our plan.
Just do it.
But I centered the fog spell so that it would screen the sea
east of the First School--there may be insufficient fog over the bay to hide
our presence from the city!
No argument, Cyl, Raven spoke calmly, --come in from the
west.
What is she doing? Doremi wondered. The body language of most
of the rest of the Fellowship showed they were equally apprehensive at the
Elfs comments. But Nightshadow and Thor, she noted, showed no
concern--suspiciously so, she thought. Perhaps they knew something she
didnt about this.
As ordered, the Elf spun the wheel and the Black Widow turned to port,
veering away from the School, still invisible in the fog. Quickly, the fog
began to thin and after a few minutes Doremi could see all the way to the
forecastle as they departed the nearly impenetrable bank of fog from
Cyllindrethifls spell and traveled on through the normal spring mist
off Serpenalik. The group at the stern remained lost in their thoughts, the
only sounds coming from the quiet creaks of the ships timbers as they
sailed forward.
It took about a quarter-hour to reach the bay of Serpenalik. As they flew,
every so often Cyllindrethifl glanced over to Thor, who stood next to her.
The Elf had apparently never seen a Scandian and found his stature and appearance
of interest. She made several furtive glances, trying not to stare, but finally
she fixed her eyes upon the Scandian, who, when he became aware of it, returned
her gaze.
I have heard, Cyllindrethifl spoke to him, that the Barbarians
drink the blood of the wolf in the belief they will gain its speed and
stamina.
Unblinking, she kept her eyes upon Thor, apparently awaiting an
answer.
Fosmo burst out laughing. Thats why they call em
Barbarians! he said, grinning at his own joke.
Thors scowl cut him off, and the thief fell silent. Then the huge Norseman
turned back to the Elf and leaned--way down--until his face was scant inches
from her own.
I wouldnt know, he answered quietly. Im a Viking,
not a barbarian!
The Elf froze for a moment, blinked, and then turned back to the wheel, a
look of puzzlement on her face.
A few more minutes passed before Cyllindrethifl swung the ship round to starboard
and it began flying toward the city, still invisible in the distance. Those
aboard could also feel her rising now as the Elf lifted the vessel high above
the surface of the sea.
Cyl, Raven spoke again, I want to avoid most of the city.
Approach from the west, near the Second School since its on the outskirts
of Serpenalik. Well go north from there, cross into the mountains and
swing around to come in from northwest. Keep us no higher than three hundred
feet or so. But bring us in along the south side of the Second School. If
we cant see it, let me know as soon as its off our port
beam.
Cyllindrethifls look said it all, but obediently she complied and adjusted
course. Fortunately the fog, though not magical, was still relatively thick,
and since they couldnt see anything Doremi was certain nothing
could see them either. Long moments passed, and several times the Elf altered
course, directing the vessel as Raven had ordered.
Were passing the School, the Elf soon whispered. There
are ramparts about a hundred feet to our left. Everyone stay quiet, lest
they hear us.
Raven stepped forward and took hold of one of the ivory spokes. Give
me the wheel.
Cyllindrethifl looked at her, then stepped aside as Raven moved into
position.
Everyone hang onto something, Raven now ordered.
Hands quickly reached for stanchions, ratlines, or some sort of support;
and a moment later Raven spun the wheel with all her strength to the right
until the helm was hard over. In concert with the movement, the stern swung
sharply in the same direction as the wheel as the bow snapped to port. Everyone
was thrown off balance for a moment as the ship heeled to its left, but just
as quickly Raven snapped the wheel to port and, centering the helm, concentrated
on stopping the vessel.
The Black Widow lurched back to starboard and lost forward momentum,
but still she drifted north from the initial maneuver.
Espidreen took a quick glance over the side of the ship. Raven, the
fogs thinning! she whispered.
Cyllindrethifl, who was obviously under a spell allowing her to see perfectly
through any sort of smoke or fog, understood even more clearly the predicament
the ship was facing.
Youre drifting straight toward the central tower! she
exclaimed, quickly looking back and forth.
Romulus had just about had enough, and stepped toward Raven. Risking
our lives against one Liche isnt enough, that you have to flaunt our
presence in the face of the other? he asked nervously. If
Throckmorton sees us flying over his School, hell blast us out of the
sky and well never even
reach Nostradamus!
Raven, Cyllindrethifl whispered frantically, theyre
going to see us!
Arre y all too daft to ken she wants em t see us?
whispered the Highlander from the transom.
Raven, meanwhile, remained silent, concentrating on maintaining
altitude.
Doremi, holding onto a rail along the portside weather deck, peered over
and down. The fog had indeed thinned, and she could make out the dim shapes
of spires and towers below, some of which she could almost have stepped out
onto now that they were passing the ramparts of the Central
School.
The Highlander had to be right--the Hocwrathians would have to be blind not
to see a hundred-and-fifty-foot ship flying above them!
And see them they did.
The Black Widow had now drifted over the top of one of the Schools
temples where five of what Doremi presumed were priests were gathered in
its courts. One of the group, facing toward the ship, lifted a hand, pointing,
and the others turned. They remained frozen in astonishment, staring at a
sight none could believe.
Theyve seen us! Espidreen exclaimed.
Immediately, Raven concentrated on moving the ship gently forward and the
Black Widow vanished into the mist heading northeast, leaving the
Second School behind. She then looked over to Cyllindrethifl and nodded for
her to take the wheel.
Now, Liche, Raven muttered as she stepped back, do exactly
what I expect you to, and total victory is ours!
It was Friday night, and as was his wont, Throckmorton was in weekly council
with the Masters of the Second School. His Council of Masters, skilled in
Necromancy and Sorcery, were thirty-seven in number compared to
Nostradamus Conclave of twelve, but the twelve making up that Conclave
were Liches of the highest order not only equal or even surpassing in skill
to Throckmortons own Masters, but in their state they possessed all
the benefits enjoyed by those who dwelt in the realm of the Undead with few
of the weaknesses.
Unfortunately, that Conclave, which for all practical purposes made the School
invincible to outside attack, could not leave its confines, unlike
Throckmortons subordinates. This gave Throckmorton, as Lord of the
Second School, more versatility than that enjoyed by his counterpart, who
often had to employ outsiders in some of his more nefarious tasks when he
didnt wish to risk any of his other Masters down in the Lower School.
Even so, the power of the First School was unquestionable, and any thought
of outright defiance an unthinkable act that could only result in the destruction
of both Schools as one side initiated conflict with the other through some
overt action born solely of pride.
Master Paracelsus, Throckmorton was saying from the recess of
the ebony throne, emblazoned with its ancient glowing sigils of power, on
to you.
Most of the Liche was visible in the huge, skull-like throne that crowned
a dais of thirteen steps. Unlike Nostradamus, who was clothed only in the
remnants of a black sorcerers robe, Throckmorton, still fully solid,
reclined in an opulent robe of scarlet and gold, looking every bit--from
a distance--like a king. Yet the form of the throne permitted his head to
remain in shadow inside the recess of the skull, his burning red eyes and
the glowing ruby of his crown alone faintly illuminating the rotted visage
within.
A gray-haired mage, attired in a robe of black embroidered with symbols of
alchemy, drew near from the group and bowed, the pentagram inscribed upon
his silver skullcap glistening from atop his hairless cranium.
I cannot recall the last time this School produced a new potion or
elixir, the Liche spoke. This is entirely unacceptable. You are
to undertake to produce something useful. Cull your students for worthwhile
ideas. Concentrate especially on the younger students. Oftentimes the young,
in their zeal, are more creative, if less skilled, than older students. Entice
them with a reward. Allow that the student who produces the most useful item
shall become your second apprentice. I want some preliminary ideas by next
week.
The wizard bowed once again and stepped back into the crowd.
Now, continued the Liche, on to Master Necros. You were
to report on the results of your new spell dealing with--
Suddenly, the Liche halted and looked up. He concentrated, and the room was
filled with a rumbling sound as the two great doors at the rear of the Throne
room, both fashioned from the bones of one of the most powerful dragons of
the First Age, began sliding open. Two acolytes and an officer from his Guard
rushed forward past the two halves of the dragons skull as it parted
to allow passage.
Murmurs arose from the assemblage. Such disturbances were unheard of, and
the three rushed through the crowd to fall on their faces before the
throne.
Why do you come, unbidden, into this kahal? the Liche
demanded--quietly, yet firmly.
Sire, one of the acolytes spoke, something was just seen!
A flying vessel passed over the School!
A what?! the Liche exclaimed.
True, mlord, the other acolyte confirmed. It was
a flying sailing ship--a huge ship! It flew over the central complex despite
the enchantments. It vanished in the fog, moving northeast.
Toward the First School, muttered Throckmorton. Now the
game starts.
The Liches head wheeled to the left where, inset into the lower jaw
of the skull, was a great ball of crystal nearly three feet across. It lit
up as the Liche concentrated, and he was looking down over Sepenalik through
the fog. Throckmorton concentrated again and the fog vanished from his sight.
Now he saw the ship clearly--moving directly toward the First
School.
So thats how shes doing it--a flying ship! exclaimed
the Liche. Marvelous! Yet how, I wonder, could the enchantments upon
its permit flying over the School? Is it possible its enchantment is greater
than twenty-fifth-circle? That would mean a god must be responsible. Certainly
the Pirate didnt do it. Something to ponder.
The vision moved closer to the vessel and Throckmorton began to scan the
stern.
Let us see whom she has brought, he muttered. The Elfin
Witch, as expected--and Nostradamus little Bard! Well, well
what
might this mean? I must consider the ramifications of this. Hmm
and
that must be her standing behind the Elf. And next to her--ah,
Nightshadow! Just as I intended; good. Who else? Some more Witches, apparently,
and some warriors. And--by the gods--a Northman! Look at the size of him!
That brute could battle an army by himself! No wonder his ancestors laid
waste to us in the First Age. Even so, you should have brought more power,
the Liche mused. It will be interesting to see how far you get. Nightshadow
will survive, but I wonder how the rest of you will fare. And what part might
that Bard play in all this? Has Nostradamus known of this attack from the
beginning?
Throckmorton turned away from his crystal ball and was in thought for several
moments, stroking his chin from long habit. Then he looked up and his arm
lashed out, casting a bolt of energy that streaked forward and struck Evo,
one of the assembled Masters. The force of the bolt threw the man backwards
with a grunt, and he crumpled to the ground, stunned for a moment as a space
instantly formed about him while his fellows scattered, leaving the hapless
wizard to whatever fate, for whatever cause, that the Lord of the Second
School had in store for him.
Seize and gag him! the Liche commanded.
Just as quickly as they had scattered, several Masters rushed back to obey,
and the mans mouth was gagged with a turban as he was dragged back
to his feet, still stunned from the blow of the energy
bolt.
Did your master think me so stupid that his lackey could deceive one
such as I? the Liche asked. Incompetent fool--I knew from the
first week you were here that you were a spy for
Nostradamus!
Frantically, Evo began to shake his head, begging to be heard.
Why do you think you advanced with us so steadily and so speedily?
the Liche continued. Because of your skills as a Necromancer? Nay--but
the closer you got to me, the less likely your fool of a master would send
other spies to infiltrate us, some of which I may not have uncovered as easily
as you. And with you as a member of my Council, I assured that Nostradamus
would be sufficiently satisfied to send no other spies.
As he was speaking, a red-robed acolyte rushed through the portal into the
chamber. Master! he cried.
The Liche directed his gaze to the new intruder. What is it
now?
The bearded acolyte came and bowed before the throne. A familiar from
one of our spies at the First School has flown here with a message,
he said, keeping his gaze downward. Nostradamus has brought the
First School to alert, anticipating an attack from us, he read
from a small parchment.
The Liche waved him back and directed his attention to Evo. I know
not if this will be Nostradamus last night, he spoke,
but this I do know--it will be
yours!
The Liches voice now rose so that all heard him clearly. Against
my warning, the Guild of Freeport is launching an attack against
Nostradamus, he announced. You are to go to your stations and
assure that no actions are undertaken that give him leave to suspect any
complicity on the part of the School in this. Do not bring the School to
alert! We will intervene only if events warrant it. For the present, I will
monitor the incursion from here. You are not to disturb me for any reason.
Now--get out, all of you, and cast that dog down the Pit as you
go!
Desperately, Master Evo struggled against the grasp of three Masters who
began dragging him toward the back of the Throne room as the Liche returned
to his crystal ball.
After the Liche was left alone with its thoughts, it began to
wonder.
Throckmorton leaned forward slightly and reached up, removing the crown from
his brow. It was the first time in centuries it had left his head, and as
he removed it the Liche felt the power drain from him, leaving behind the
emptiness of unlife. He had forgotten what it was like for a normal
Liche, despite its own intrinsic sorcerous powers. What a feeling of utter
destitution and hopelessness.
But that was unimportant.
What mattered was the inscription upon the golden rim of the inside of the
crown. Slowly, the Liche ran his fingers, bony with their leathery skin stretched
tightly over them like a parchment, upon the age-old letters.
There was no longer any true feeling left in Throckmortons touch; his
fingers always felt numb. But still he could perceive the indentations and
ridges of what was written therein. Ancient, and tracing itself to some nameless
Master early in the Second Age if not to Goth himself, the words were written
in the oldest tongue of Hocwrath. Over the last ten thousand years, none
but the hundred and sixty-eight Schoolmasters preceding him had ever seen
what it Proclaimed:
When flies the raven overhead,
And the fury of the Northmen return to the land,
The age between comes at last to its end,
The School of Serpen put to the ban.
Yet the West again shall rise,
Restoring again the power old,
And the throne of Goth
survives.
Prophecy being fulfilled? wondered the Liche aloud to himself.
Then he returned the crown to his rotted head and the power surged through
him once more, the only substitute left for actual life.
No, little Pirate, he spoke with contempt as he turned again
to watch the ship nearing the First School, Ill not be manipulated
by you. Youll not use my pawns in your Gambit; youll use your
own pieces. Only after youve used up all of your own pieces will I
consider entering the game, and then only if you play well enough to make
it worthwhile to me. But I shall wish you luck, for you may indeed have been born for such
a moment as this--to give my School ultimate power, and myself
immortality!
With a quiet laughter, the Liche extinguished all light in his chamber and
settled back to watch.
They had left the city behind and were swinging around in an arc to approach
from the fog-shrouded mountains above Serpenalik. It was a matter of minutes
now.
Venivica, Raven spoke quietly.
The Witch stepped forward to her mistress, awaiting orders.
Get into the hold and make sure those portals are still
working, Raven ordered, leaning back to speak to her without turning.
At the first sign of any attack on us, well try to get the ship
out of here--but if we cant, well leave through
them. If theres no attack on us when we reach it, then
well know weve succeeded.
Nodding back, the Witch looked over to a pair of deck hands nervously standing
around, their crossbows in hand.
You and you with me, she commanded. That said, Venivica then
made her way from the weather deck, the crewmen following.
Fosmo watched the three leave, and then moved to Raven. You dont
think they might let us land and ambush us somewhere inside the School, assuming
they know? he whispered, brushing a lock of his hair out of his
eyes.
Raven slowly shook her head, saying nothing.
Overhearing his question, Espidreen took in a breath. Not in his
personality as I told you before, she answered. In Nostradamus
way of thinking, the way you meet an attack is to respond with overwhelming
force as quickly as you can.
Oh, he might indeed plot and wait twenty years before striking his
own enemy, having considered every aspect of his own strategy, but
if someone attacks him--the response is swift and severe with no thought of strategy
or tactics. Its kill your enemy before he kills you.
The Witch nodded to herself. If they know were
coming, well know in a few moments, Burglar, because theyll
attack us!
Aye, spoke the Knight, unsheathing his sword in readiness. If
I knew Nightshadow be sallying forth to strike against mine own stronghold,
an army would I have set to meet him, and attack I would, the moment
I could. Only a fool alloweth an enemy inside his own house in hope of trapping
him within his own chambers when first he could set ambushments outside and
perchance ensnare him there. Thus, my sword be more ready for battle now,
rather than later.
Yeah, maybe so, Fosmo muttered, cautiously slipping a dagger
out of its scabbard and readying it for a fast throw.
The Knights words seemed to hold wisdom and most of the rest of those
gathered near the helm likewise prepared themselves, readying weapons. Only
Romulus stood out as unconcerned, arms folded against his chest, waiting
to see what would happen. Nightshadow, too, waited patiently, his swords
still tucked into his belt sash.
Doremi noticed Nazier slip the lever of his crossbow into the rapid-fire
position, and she gave him a You sure you want to do that?
look.
He winked back. Maybe Ill be lucky, and thisll be one of
the times it will work.
On they continued, and after a minute or so the ship heard the School, for
the clamor of its population penetrated the thick fog even if one couldnt
see through it. It was somewhat different, Doremi noted, than the quiet of
the Second School. Perhaps suspiciously so.
But Raven paid no attention, focused only on completing the most harrowing
portion of the journey. The next few moments would tell whether or not
Nostradamus had known her plans.
Then, all at once, the bow emerged from the fog like passing through a
curtain--into a clear night sky.
They were no longer hidden, and the Upper School was right in front of
them!
Fogs gone! Fosmo exclaimed.
They do know! Romulus added, his calm a thing of the past
as he drew his gladius.
Raven raised a hand to calm them. The Upper School has a spell around
it that keeps out fog and clouds. We expected this.
Nightshadow--go!
The Rogue nodded, and now Doremi watched as again he began to fade into the
Ethers, his cloak fluttering in the Ethereal wind. Then, wraithlike, he was
lifting above the deck and went flying out before the vessel toward the School
ahead.
Now listen, the rest of you, Raven spoke firmly. Once
were in that School, not one word about this ship! Not one word about
the Scandians! Understand? Dont mention them! Dont think about
them!
As she spoke, the ship was bearing down on the gigantic edifice Romulus had
pointed out at the council. It loomed before them, a massive rectangular
structure of brown basalt fronted by a gaping black aperture outlined by
an ornate frame of gold leaf, if not solid gold, on its three sides. It was
eerily beautiful to behold, but Doremi was more in awe of how ancient this
fortress was. It was old beyond comprehension. That, and its size.
Now that they were actually here, those who had never seen it realized just
how big the Upper School was. No wonder Raven would be so bold as to take
an entire ship into this place, for the Black Widow was easily dwarfed
by its immense scale. Battlements, crenellated turrets projecting forth from
great curtain walls, barbicans, cornices, iron gates, bridges connecting
buildings with towers, sculpted stone corbels, dormers looking out over
courtyards, stone arches set upon huge pilasters framing enormous windows
of stained-glass gleaming in the silver moonlight--the scope of the place
was staggering.
And above it all loomed the tower at the very back of the complex, crowning
the mountain upon which the School was built--a featureless dark cube pointing
to the sky like some great fist shaking itself in defiance of the very
heavens.
But for all its size, there was not so much as a sign of life in the place.
Where there were windows in the walls or within towers, no lights gleamed
suggesting warmth and occupation--only an inky blackness, darker than the
blackness of night, hinted at what creatures made this place their home,
for this place was a home of the dead
a place where life was the invader,
where humanity was unwelcome, where goodness was the ultimate
enemy.
Doremis thoughts faded away as she felt the ship slowing to a crawl
while the Elf guided her toward the waiting aperture.
They were obviously going to enter.
Raven looked up and then quickly down to the ship, trying to compare the
height of the aperture with the vessels masts. It would be
close.
Careful of our masts with that overhang, Cyl, she
warned.
Cyllindrethifl was confident of her judgment, yet to oblige Raven she
concentrated and the ship dropped a few feet as it prow began to penetrate
the darkness. Doremi took one final glance up as the mainmast slowly passed
into the entry several feet below the upper lip of the doorway, its skull
and crossbones flag gently fluttering as they went.
Then they were inside.
One could hardly see a thing for the darkness that hung like a curtain, though
a feeble light made its way in from the outside, bathing the floor of the
great chamber in a faint blue haze. Those aboard could just make out large
shapes scattered haphazardly within the vault, though what they actually
were wasnt apparent.
The ship now drew to a halt, and Cyllindrethifl held her steady as if awaiting
orders.
They were silent for a few moments, then Nightshadow appeared, flying back
to them through an opening of equal size at the other end of the chamber.
His flight over, the Rogue glided to the stern, passing through the ships
masts as he went, and began to solidify until he was standing on the deck
once more.
Empty, he announced, once he was back in his physical form. No
ones outside or near the stairs that I could see. If theres an
ambush, its waiting inside the tower. Something prevented me, even
in Ethereal form, from penetrating the walls of the buildings--but theres
no light from anywhere, no sound from anything--this place is, pardon the
expression, dead as a tomb, Raven.
Espidreen relaxed and expelled the breath shed been holding. No
one waiting for us. Weve done it, she whispered, a note of actual
surprise in her voice.
Raven now reached under her blouse and came up with a locket that she opened
up to reveal a glowing jewel within. A soft glow, akin to the light of a
torch, emanated from it, and she hung the locket upon her leather vest for
illumination.
Espy, hand out some of these, she answered the Witch.
Ill be back in a moment. Cyl, keep us where we
are.
With that, Raven draped her left arm down to protect her swords so they
didnt get caught on anything, and she was off, hurrying toward the
hold.
Down below, Venivica and the two hands were waiting. The three panels Doremi
had seen Nazier removing a tarp from had been set up in a triangle, one on
each side of the hull with a third set forward. The surfaces of each were
faintly glowing, providing just enough light to see by.
Completing her descent, Raven moved forward, a smile spreading across her
face as she caught sight of the panels. Grinning herself, Venivica swept
her hands back to the three teleportals.
All ready, Raven, she spoke.
I knew it would work, Raven whispered, awed at her own success.
Its the one thing they couldnt protect against--someone
like us bringing in our own teleportals!
Tentatively, she reached out and, as her hand began vanishing through the
enchanted portal, Raven nearly giggled.
Were going to succeed--I know it!
Then she regained her composure, becoming serious again, and directed her
glance from the portals to Venivicas eyes as she leaned forward,
placing her hands upon the Witchs shoulders.
Venivica, its all been to bring us to this point in time,
she spoke. The moment of our triumph is at hand and youre the
linchpin--it all hinges on you. For the next ten hours, you need to be
perfect!
Venivica nodded in response. I understand, Raven, she replied.
You can count on me.
I know I can. Now--off with you. Well see you in a few
hours.
Raven then released her grip and the Witch mouthed a farewell, vanishing
into the forward portal, leaving the three alone.
The Mistress of Freeport then let out a breath and looked over to her crewmen.
You two stay down here until our reinforcements come through. Til
then, no talking, and defend these with your lives, all
right?
Espidreens pack held a pouch of the enchanted necklaces, and quickly
the Assault team placed them around their necks. Now that there was better
light, the interior of the vault was revealed more clearly. To either side
of the vessel, great black chains, their links thick as a mans middle,
were anchored to giant iron loops driven into the walls or the floor. Studded
bronze collars, green with patination from age, lay scattered about the chamber,
restraints so large that a half dozen large men could comfortably stand within
them.
By the gods, spoke the Highlander leaning out over the side of
the ship to gaze down, wha sorrt a beasties need chains like
that t hold em?!
Dragons, Clansman, Espidreen answered as she swung her pack back
onto her shoulders. In the First Age, they tamed and kept dragons here.
This was the dragon stable.
And at times since, they have housed pterodactyls, although not for
some centuries, Cyllindrethifl added from the helm.
Doremi, Raven called out as she was re-mounting the stairs up
to the weather deck.
The Bard looked around to her.
If we walk from here to the tower, how long will it take for you to
lead us to the third story of its base? she wanted to know as she
approached.
If we move fast...a bit less than an hour, Doremi answered.
Slower if we creep and move carefully.
Raven thought for a moment. Too much time, she concluded. Cyl,
get us moving--were going to fly up to the third story of the tower
complex and break in through a window. Doremi knows of a chamber we can be
sure no one will be at.
The Knight took a step forward. Lady, be that wise? he asked.
A fellowship of ten, moving by stealth, be harder to see than a big
vessel that flieth through the air.
No, Raven is right, Cyllindrethifl spoke up, still grasping the
spokes of the wheel. Even if we walk in the nighttime darkness, moving
from shadow to shadow, our life force would stand out to an undead like a
torch would to us. We cannot hide from them, and the longer were out
in the open, the better a chance that one of the Liches might spot ten living
beings in their courtyard. We would do better to fly to the tower and disembark
quickly as possible. Remember--were not dealing with mortal beings.
Our strategy must be tailored to what were facing.
Anything lowering their chances of being spotted by Liches sounded like a
good idea, so the tension at Ravens bold suggestion quickly
subsided.
All right, get us moving, Cyl, Raven ordered.
Douse our lights, Espidreen spoke, snapping closed her
locket.
The Black Widow was plunged into darkness once more as the Team complied,
and the Druid guided the ship forward. It took only a moment to pass from
the stable into the great court of the Upper School, and then they were out
in the open once more. On either side of the stables they could just see
the large stairways, thrice as wide as a mans height, that led down
into the lower levels of the School--the same stairs Thors Vikings
would be called upon to guard. Then these were gone, left behind in the
darkness.
Shadows blacker than the night crouched in every corner of the ancient citadel.
Stairways stretched upward to floors or catwalks of the outer complex, marked
off by vaulted windows at each level up to the third. Beyond that, only cold
stone walls with bricked-up windows made up the last hundred feet or so to
the top battlements. Innumerable carved gargoyles or other figures of evil
leered down from every corner of the structures at the vessel as it turned
to make its way around towers or buildings rising from the floor of the court,
and Doremi wouldnt have been shocked if every one of them suddenly
animated and flew in for the attack.
But thankfully, the guardians remained silent and dead, taking no notice
of the intruders.
Then they came upon the statue.
It rose up over a hundred feet in height from the flagstones of the courtyard,
set before the final complex of the Upper School: A lone figure crowned with
a twisted diadem emblazoned with coiled cobras, its flowing robes hiding
any true features of the creature that filled them, standing as one last
sentinel over the School.
A pair of gauntleted hands, sprouting from the sleeves of the robe, were
brought together before it, resting upon the handle of a huge mace that stood
from the beings feet to its waist. The statue was frightening at a
distance just as it was, but most terrifying was the horrid emptiness behind
its empty cowl, for not even something so human as a head looked out upon
those who dared approach--only an empty, featureless void.
So that was Serpen, Raven muttered, gazing out to it. Second
Lord of the Triad...First Lord of the First School of Sorcery...the one who
destroyed the Dwarves of the West, and nearly destroyed the
Elves....
Cyllindrethifl slowed, porting the vessel to pass around the monolith, and
everyone took a good look at the horrid idol.
Raven, look, Espidreen spoke as she pointed,
--Nightshadows Mind Sapphire.
Sure enough, there it was, depending from a chain that emerged from beneath
the cowl of the being: the Mind Sapphire. Identical in form to the
true Talisman worn by Nightshadow, the fanged cobra, tall as a man, looked
out upon the invaders as if hissing its challenge to anyone who would provoke
this place.
Espy, why did they call it the Mind Sapphire?
asked Raven. That seems like an odd name for such a
Talisman.
Unknown, Raven. The Witch looked over to the helm.
Cyllindrethifl?
The Elf likewise shook her head.
Reluctant to move her eyes from the statue, Raven momentarily glanced past
Doremi to the Rogue. Nightshadow, have you ever noticed it granting
you any--mental powers, or anything like that? she inquired.
No, came the curt reply.
It was then that Doremi spoke up, saying, What an evil, horrible monster
he must have been. Look--they didnt even give him a
face.
Nightshadow, standing to her left, slowly turned his head to the
Bard.
I, too, have no face, he said quietly.
Then he turned back to glare at his predecessor who had first owned the Talisman
he now bore.
At his words, silence fell upon the deck and no one said a thing.
The Black Widow swung round the left side of the monolith, and then
she was covering the last short distance to the tower complex. It spread
out before them atop a stone court reached by a short but wide stairway leading
up from the main court below--a great square building, nearly the size of
the Ravens Inn, lined with soaring lancet windows upon the four floors
of its three exposed sides, their innumerable diamond-shaped panes glistening
in the moonlight.
Doremi, wheres that Music Library again, that you said we could
count on to be empty? Raven asked for Cyllindrethifls
benefit.
The Bard pointed to the southwest corner of the structure. Its
the corner room at the third level there.
Cyllindrethifl nodded and concentrated, swinging the bow to port and gaining
altitude. It was now that Doremi finally noticed the Elf wasnt spinning
the wheel but simply willing the ship to move as she
wanted.
How come she isnt turning the wheel, but the ship still turns?
she asked Raven.
You dont have to turn it, Doremi, came Ravens reply.
It responds to mental commands, but turning the wheel helps ones
mind focus in on what it expects the ship to do, and thus it follows suit.
But you dont have to do it that way.
Silent as a ghost, the Black Widow floated up to the edge of the building
and slowed to a crawl as the Druid now brought her alongside the structure.
The moon was nearly covered by its white clouds tonight and gave off a brilliant
white light that bathed much of the structure in an eerie glow. Rising in
the east, it was positioned in such a way that the complex cast a great shadow
that hid them as they made their final approach. Still they were unseen,
for not so much as a stir came from any part of the School they could
see.
It was as if the place were totally abandoned.
With a final creak of her rigging and timbers, the ship drew to a stop alongside
the building and floated silently in the darkness.
Doremi, Raven asked, will those windows open, or do we
have to bust in?
The Bard leaned forward to answer quietly, They
can open--theres a catch on them if theyre like the
ones in the Karnaki room next to it.
Good! Okay, team, Raven loudly whispered, lets get
moving!
Silently, the Fellowship began moving down the stairs to the main deck as
Cyllindrethifl gave the helm over to Nazier.
Nazier, Raven spoke, turning to him for a moment, once
were inside, get back to the stable and stay in there. Well
foot it back there once were done, or else send a message for you to
pick us up.
The mariner nodded, laying his crossbow aside and grasping the
spokes.
Oh, Doremi, Raven now spoke as she began following the rest down,
I left my bow and arrows on Naziers bunk--would you go fetch
them for me?
Okay, answered the Bard, falling in behind. She hurried over
to the door into the cabin and slipped inside. Spotting the bow and belt
quiver, she walked over to grab them, but then she heard a squawk.
Avast! came a voice.
A talking bird, the Bard realized with a jump!
Forgetting the bow, she moved, transfixed, to the stand upon which the beautiful
green and blue creature was perched, squawking and whistling. It was so colorful,
that it almost seemed as if someone had taken the sky and its rainbow, and
given them feathers and wings.
Hello, she spoke. My names Doremi. Can you
talk?!
Pretty bird, it squawked in response.
Yes, you are! she exclaimed, trying to reach out and pet the
bird, but it hunched down and retreated to the edge of its perch. Are
you someones familiar? she then asked.
Port tack! Port tack! the parrot repeated. Pretty
bird!
Doremi would have loved to spend more time with the bird but time was of
the essence, and so she reluctantly left Pete behind and retrieved the arms
for Raven.
Outside, as the door swung closed behind her, she observed that a gangplank
had been let out from the side of the ship to the ledge below the window,
and the group was preparing to cross. The Bard took in a breath and then
stepped forward to her comrades, knowing the time had come.
Nostradamus, meanwhile, had been reclining in his throne, focusing his
consciousness to be one with his School, and the moment the plank touched
the ledge, he knew it.
Theyre here, he exclaimed to himself, but not in the
catacombs! Then his consciousness was outside the tower, looking down
upon the vessel.
A flying ship. Interesting.
Forgetting any question of how one might come possess such a marvel, the
Lord of the First School directed his attention to looking over his opposition,
a feeling of satisfaction coming over him as his gaze fell upon Nightshadow.
It had all been for this--and just as he had planned, his enemy was walking
straight into his trap, bringing the Mind Sapphire right to his waiting
grasp. That was all he cared about--the others were of no
consequence.
The Liche restrained himself from the pleasure of materializing on the roof
of the tower and blowing the ship in half with an energy blast, watching
as it would fall to the courtyard in flames, killing most of those aboard.
No, he had to show patience and let the burglars think their plan was working.
Time enough later to slay them and take their flying vessel as his
own.
Think you can remember how to jimmy open a window, Fosmo? Raven
was asking.
The thief flashed a big grin and rushed across the gangplank to the vaulted
windows, reaching into his pouch for his set of lock-picks. Even in the dark,
he was able to select just the right tool for the job: a thin, hard piece
of steel that he wedged in between the two halves of the window. He tapped
the bottom of the tool with his palm, and with a quick lift the catch gave
way so that the burglar could swing open the window. He peered in, then replaced
his tools in his belt pouch and pushed himself up with his hands against
the bottom frame of the window. In one move, Fosmo swung his legs up and
over, then vanished into the darkened room, drawing his rapier. The Cutpurse
had eyes like a cat, and taking a moment to satisfy himself there was nothing
harmful awaiting them, he returned to the window and gave a thumbs up for
the rest to follow.
Wait, Raven spoke. Pull in that
gangplank.
Two crewmen stepped lively as Raven bolted partially up the stairs to the
weather deck. Up three or four feet, she whispered out to Nazier,
her head just above the deck level.
Nazier nodded and the ship began lifting. When it was high enough, Raven
waved at him to stop, and Nazier held the vessel in place.
Clearly excited, she braced her arms against the railing of the stairs and
kicked out her legs, sliding down to the main deck. Then she ordered the
crew to reset the gangplank from the ledge to the window for an easier ingress.
It took only a moment to do, then Nightshadow moved out to enter the building
followed by Thor. Raven then retrieved her bow from Doremi, strapped on the
quiver, and hurried across next with the Bard nervously following
behind.
Me was worried you was all leavin me! Fosmo whispered to
Raven as he helped Doremi enter the darkened chamber.
We thought about it, came the reply as Raven looked around to
verify Thor and Nightshadow were at the door, keeping watch.
Behind, the two Witches were coming in, and--last of all--the three remaining
warriors.
Once they were all inside, Raven stepped to the window, waved to the ship,
and the gangplank was withdrawn. Then, wasting no time, the
Widow was gliding off as Nazier turned her about to retreat back
into the courtyard on the way to the stables.
Raven watched the ship go, holding her breath. This was the last test of
their strategy: If Nostradamus knew they were here, now would be his last
and greatest chance for killing or capturing them. If the ship wasnt
blown out of the sky right now, there was no question they had succeeded,
and ingress was theirs.
Nervous moments passed, and the ship was lost to sight. The Mistress of Freeport
then leaned out, taking a long look at the empty courtyard below. Still,
not a sound came to her ears, and after a few more moments when she was certain
the vessel was safe, Raven released her breath and carefully latched closed
the window.
Okay, she whispered, weve done it!
For the first time, Doremi actually noticed the trace of a smile pass across
Espidreens face at Ravens words.
Everyone get their gear ready, and lets move out, Raven
continued. Doremi, youre going to be our guide--just tell us
which way to get to the upper levels.
The Bard shrugged. Ill do the best I can, though Ive never
been above this level.
Mac Tavish checked that his axe was securely strapped across his back, then
hefted his shield and unsheathed the claymore. What about lights?
he asked, looking around. We usin torrches, orr them magic stones
y gave us?
The lockets for now, Raven answered. Liches may be able
to see in the dark, but we cant. If were going to have
light at all, we may as well have some good light. As Cyl says
anyway--even if we walked in darkness, theyd see our life force, so
we have nothing to lose.
The darkness vanished as the light necklaces came out, and now they beheld
that they were in a room twenty feet square. At first glance, it didnt
seem as if there would be much of interest here, for there were but
three bookcases, each half-filled with various old tomes or stacks of music;
and a small desk was set before the windows they had entered by.
This was certainly not what one might have expected for the worlds
greatest repository of magic to possess on the entire field of Bardic
magic!
Even so, Doremi naturally headed straight for one of the bookcases and removed
the first volume her eyes fell upon--a small, simple little tome with a green
leather cover that was probably nothing more than some simple
poetry.
Sure isnt much of a Library, observed Raven, glancing around.
Desmores bookshop is at least five times its
size.
The School would consider Bardic and Gypsy magic unworthy of serious
study, Raven, answered Espidreen as she readied her mace. These
were probably a few basic materials they had stored here.
Whatever. Okay, Raven now spoke up, heres going to
be our marching order: Thor and Nightshadow in front, followed by Giles and
Mac Tavish. Next, Espy and I will be behind, and behind us Doremi and
Cyllindrethifl. Bringing up the rear are Fosmo and Romulus. If anything from
behind attacks us, Giles and Mac Tavish fall back to reinforce Romulus. Fosmo,
since Doremis coming along, youll be her guardian. Keep an eye
on her the way Romulus and Mac Tavish will for Cyl and
Espy.
Aye, the Cutpurse answered, winking at the Bard.
But Doremi wasnt paying attention, for her eyes were opening wider
and wider as she read the preface to the small book she held:
Bard/Elementalist
A translation from the Avalonian of a work,
Diatesseron of Dellenthar
--Being a treatise on affecting elements with sound.
Usefulness: Low/Nil. Makes repeated reference to 19-stringed instrument,
a Torban, with 9 bass and ten treble strings.
Unable to duplicate claimed effects with 19-stringed Arwinian rhubab
or with 15-stringed lute.
Slowly, her mouth opened wide with each moment she read, then finally she
squealed, taking in deep gasps of air like she was having some sort of
fit.
The Lost Chord! The Lost Chord! she squealed.
Raven leaned around Cyllindrethifl to glare at the Bard. Whats
the matter with you? she demanded.
Doremi, hardly aware of the question, blinked and shook the book at her.
That rotten, lying Nabonidus! she exclaimed. I asked him
if they had a copy of the Diatesseron, and he said they had nothing
but a few basic manuscripts in here--and its the first thing on the
shelf! Oh, that liar! These may all be priceless, she muttered, looking
over the manuscripts as she ran her left hand gently along the row of
books.
Raven marched over to her and grasped her arm, pulling her away from the
bookshelf.
Doremi, we do not have time for you to be looking through books!
she said sharply. You can grab some of these on the way out if you
want, but first things first.
The Bard knew she was right, but this was absolutely one of the hardest things
shed ever had to do--turn away from what might possibly be one of the
greatest Libraries of Music on Islay if what she suspected was actually true.
But turn away she did, gritting her teeth. Then she stood there, hands locked
about the book in a death grip, unsure where the safest place would be to
keep it. One thing she knew--it was coming with her. Period.
Now whats the matter? Raven exclaimed.
Im not sure where to keep this where it wont get hurt,
Doremi answered, standing there, looking confused.
Put it in your pack.
What if I lose my pack?
What if? What if? Raven repeated. Then she snatched the
book from the Bards grasp.
Heyyyy! Doremi started to say, trying to take it back.
Raven held it up and away with her left hand, out of Doremis frustrated
reach. If this book is that important to you, Ill keep it tucked
safely in a pocket of my cloak. Unless I die, itll be just
fine.
But...what if you do die? she asked.
Doremi, between you and me, whom do you think would be more likely
to survive this place?
The Bard hemmed and hawed for a moment. Well...I guess you, she
finally said.
Raven nodded. Thank you. Now that youre calmed down, you want
the book back so you can worry about it all night; or would you like to leave
it safe here, where we can pick it up on the way out; or would you like to
leave it with me where it has the best chance of surviving?
Give it to me!
Rolling her eyes, Raven acquiesced and tossed the book back to Doremis
eager grasp. Off came her knapsack as the Bard knelt down and shoved the
tome at the very bottom, where it would be safest from harm. Then she removed
her lute, which had been placed within and covered by a burlap sack, and
began hooking a strap to it so she could wear it without fear it would drop
from her grasp. That done, she made sure her flute was safely tucked into
her belt, and then she was ready.
Catching sight of the instrument, Raven looked down to the lute and then
back to the Bard. You think youve got enough strings on that
thing? she asked. Ive never seen a lute with so many strings!
How many are on there?!
Nine bass courses--or, eighteen bass strings tuned to double octaves,
with ten treble strings! Twenty-eight total! Doremi boasted as she
stood up.
Raven ran her hand lightly along the polished neck of the lute. Is
that good?
Yes! Normal lutes have fifteen strings. This gives you quite a range,
though I still dont tune anything above G to above middle
C.
The Mistress of Freeport glanced over to Cyllindrethifl. You understand
what she just said?
The Elf nodded. Of course, Raven--we Elves invented music, you
know.
Rolling her eyes and looking back to Doremi, Raven exclaimed, That thing must have the most strings of any instrument on Islay other than a full-size harp!
Actually, Raven, theres a zither in Arwin called a santur,
with a hundred-and-twenty-six strings--or so Ive heard, Doremi
answered
The Elf likewise found the instrument of interest, leaning over and taking
a close look at it. What range do you sing in? Cyllindrethifl
now inquired.
Well, I have a three-octave range, but my voice sometimes cracks in
a real high soprano. But theres a song I do that has a cadenza in which
I have to sustain an F above high C, so Id say thats my best
on a good day.
The Elf nodded her approval.
Raven squinted. I have no idea what any of that meant, she spoke,
--is that good?
Its very good, Raven, Cyllindrethifl answered. About
what an Elf can do.
The Mistress of Freeport seemed satisfied. Well...bard away
then.
Having spoken that, Raven began moving for the door as Cyllindrethifl stepped
up to make a closer examination of the instrument.
Splendid, she spoke, looking down at it. I have never seen
such a beautiful lute. Is it Elven?
No, Doremi replied, taking it off and offering it to her.
Its ancient Avalonian. From the First Age.
Do tell! Cyllindrethifl accepted the opportunity and tested the
instrument.
She clearly knew how to play, Doremi realized.
Its name is Faire-chlaidh-ceol, added the Bard.
The Elf thought for a moment and looked up. Gravesinger?
she asked, cocking her head to the left.
Um, yeah--thatd be one way to translate it. I think it belonged
to Dellenthar; I found it in his tomb and was allowed to keep
it.
Really!
Espidreen, meanwhile, knelt down and started rummaging through her pack to
retrieve a water bag that she quickly slung over her left
shoulder.
Water or wine? asked Fosmo, peering down at her.
Water--but holy water, the Witch replied. Then, to show what
she meat, Espidreen pulled off a cap, revealing a small metal nipple had
been attached to the bags mouthg. To squirt at an undead if the
situation calls for it.
Not a bad idea, eh, Fosmo replied.
Oh, that reminds me, Doremi exclaimed. Then she turned back to
her pack and came up with a small brass lamp.
Vampire lamp, she noted.
Whats that? several interested voices
said.
Obligingly, the Bard held it up for all to see. Well, as you can see,
its got a cross-shaped hole in the shutter, and it casts a cross-shaped
beam of light. I figure it might hurt a vampire if he gets hit with
it.
What a marvelous idea! Cyllindrethifl spoke in response as Espidreen
muttered a Hmm.
The Bard hooked the lamp to her belt, then reached back down and donned her
pack. Ill light it if we need it.
Espidreen then looked over toward the men. Weve also got some
holy oil here for smearing on your weapons, she noted, holding up a
vial taken from her pack. Should make them a bit more
effective.
There were a few grunts of approval from the fighters, and then the Witch
uncorked the vial and allowed a thick, rose-smelling ointment to pour down
and coat their various arms, one at a time. She then finished by drenching
her own mace with some of the concoction.
Meanwhile, Cyllindrethifl returned the lute to Doremi. Youre
fortunate. Thank you for letting me handle it.
The others now had the door open and were filing out into the hall, weapons
at the ready. Cyllindrethifl--taking the opportunity to flip up a small hourglass
affixed to her belt--and the Bard followed the rest out. As she exited the
chamber, Doremi caught sight of Raven opening up the door to the Karnaki
Library next to them and peering in.
So thats their Karnaki Library, huh? she asked as Doremi
approached.
The Bard looked over her shoulder into the darkened chamber. Yeah,
thats it.
The Library itself was of comparable size to the Music Library but held quite
a bit more, for its shelves and bookcases were stuffed with scroll cases
holding parchments or papyri, along with the journals Doremi had scribed
with their translations.
It was a pretty good experience being here, she told Raven.
Here and there, they had some real old Hocwrathian spell books that
had a few hieroglyphs listed with some translations of what they said, and
it helped me learn some things I didnt know. The most important thing
was, they actually had a translation of an ancient Karnaki funeral song.
Between that and the spells, I was able to basically complete learning what
I needed to know, not only about the language, but the way they wrote
music.
Doremis comment seemed to generate a bit of interest on Ravens
part.
So the School knows some ancient Karnaki spells then? she
asked.
Not that I know of, Raven. From what I could surmise by the books,
Karnaki spells cant be cast anymore. The wizards who wrote them expressed
a puzzlement as to why, and the general theory was that the Karnaki gods
were all dead by their time, and so the magic wont work for that
reason.
Ravens eyes narrowed as she looked to the Bard. I hope thats
not true, she spoke, a note of concern on her voice.
Doremi shook her head. I dont think it is; I think they just
dont have the right translations, or else they didnt know how
to pronounce the words correctly. As you know, if you dont pronounce
magic words just right, they wont work.
Which is what makes Witchery so superior to Sorcery, spoke Espidreen
from a few feet away as she listened in on the conversation. We need
only to learn the simple prose and focus the power placed within ourselves
by our goddess to do our magic, whereas these accursed Sorcerers need to
master some poly-syllabic language given them by demons ages ago that releases
the power within the words themselves. Witchery is thus vastly
superior.
Well said, Espidreen, Cyllindrethifl agreed with a
nod.
It was about then that the Bard caught sight of something upon the desk,
and she pushed past Raven to enter the dark chamber.
How odd! she exclaimed as she stepped to the desk.
Raven followed her gaze and observed that upon the mahogany desk, next to
a silver candlestick covered with the wax from a burnt-out candle that had
flowed down its shaft, was a piece of parchment tied into a roll with a red
silk ribbon.
Doremi held up the parchment as she turned back. This was the note
I left them when I finished. It looks like they never even read it. Its
like they dont even know Im gone.
Raven seemed to be considering her words, looking for an explanation.
Probably they didnt really care about your work, Doremi,
she finally concluded. They may only have wanted them translated just
for the sake of formality.
The Bard shrugged as she looked down once more to her note. I guess.
Strange, though.
Thor now stepped up to the doorway, the hammer in his right hand and his
huge red shield in his left. We going to be here all night? he
asked, leaning in. Lets go!
He didnt see it, but Raven rolled her eyes at the comment before stepping
back out into the hallway.
Doremi, which direction? she asked.
The Bard laid the scroll down and returned to the group, slipping out the
doorway as Raven swung the portal closed. She then lifted a finger, indicating
north.
Theres a hallway about halfway down that leads east. That takes
you to the stairways. One of them will lead to the fourth story, and maybe
one even leads into the tower.
Thor? Raven now spoke, nodding in the direction Doremi
pointed.
The Viking nodded back, then he and Nightshadow began trudging down the darkened
hall, their footfalls muffled by the thick carpet that ran like a blood red
stream from one end to the other.
The hall varied little in its appearance, with carved stone archways set
every twenty feet or so between the barrel-vaulted roof and the walls. To
the groups right, the walls bore no entryways, but were covered with
old tapestries every few feet to break up the monotony of the smooth stone.
But the left side of the corridor featured doorways to other small Libraries
spaced every twenty or thirty feet apart. They ignored these, and in a short
time they were at the branch Doremi had spoken of. Thor took a quick right
to a floor of smooth white marble, and now they were moving east. It took
but a minute or so and then everyone emerged into a great landing that stretched
nearly a hundred feet as it ran north and south.
Here the Fellowship halted, stunned at what lay before them.
The Grand Stairway
Stairs. And not just one set. Not just ten sets. But more than
twenty sets branching off into every possible direction, creating
an eerie maze of stairways twisting and turning and rising and falling like
some great maze ready to drive mad anyone seeking to navigate its many
pathways.
From the ten-foot-wide platform they stood upon, some stairs swept upward,
disappearing into the shadows where the hint of other landings was suggested
by the light from the groups lockets reaching the outer perimeter of
their range. Other staircases wound their way down to different chambers,
or perhaps to the lower levels for all anyone knew.
There were broad staircases. There were narrow staircases. There were large
staircases. There were small staircases. There were circular staircases.
There were straight staircases. There were staircases of every form and size
beckoning the Fellowship to come explore if they dared.
Some staircases led directly into darkened chambers, while others reached
alcoves that split off into two or more sets of stairs leading off to different
areas. Most confusing of all, however, was the fact that from the landing
one could clearly see stairs leading up or down to at least seven different
levels--and this was only a five-story building!
What is with all these stairs?! Raven muttered in shock
as her head looked back and forth, trying to take in the scene.
Then a gloved finger stretched back over her shoulder and
beckoned.
Assuming it was for her, Doremi pressed past Espidreen and obediently stepped
up.
Please tell me, Raven spoke without turning, that you know
which of these stairs will eventually take us to the tower.
Sorry, Raven, came the Bards answer. Ive never
gone beyond right here. Any of those stairs could be the ones--except, of
course, those ones there, she added, pointing to a set leading down
some thirty feet. Those lead down to the second level. The others lead
all sorts of places, and, like I said, its like a maze in here. Sometimes
you even have to go down before you can go up, or up before you can go
down.
Smart as she was, Raven still wasnt getting it.
But why are there so many different sets of stairs? she asked.
It looks like there are seven or eight levels to this place, and we
know its only got five stories. I dont
understand.
Well, like I said, Doremi attempted to explain, this place
is a maze, Raven. Not just lengthwise--but heightwise.
At those words, it finally began to sink in--and the Mistress of Freeport
blinked as her jaw dropped.
Are you telling me this place has levels inside of levels?!
Raven exclaimed.
Yes, Doremi replied with a nod. Thats a great way
of putting it. Each actual level is fifty feet tall or so, but within it
you could have areas where five whole floors of ten-foot-tall rooms might
be stacked on top of each other, making five sub-levels on the one
main level. So you actually have, here and there, way more than just
five levels here in the base complex. I cant even guess what the tower
itself is laid out like.
Almost as if on cue, the group expunged a collective sigh as their countenances
fell.
Why didnt you tell us this before?! Espidreen angrily exclaimed
as she glared at Doremi.
The Bard turned right to her and placed her hands on her hips. I tried
to, remember? You guys just cut me off and went on about how it made no
difference because Fosmo could just scale the Pit, and youd save time
that way!
Doremi then thought she heard Raven muttering something about ravens and
heaven under her breath, and then the Mistress of Freeport let out a
sigh.
Irrelevant, she declared calmly as her face tightened up and
her voice became calm once more. We will simply deal with the problem,
and overcome. Thor--any chance your tracking skills can pick up where the
heaviest traffic up is?
But the Viking was already down on one knee, looking for any indications
of travel. Eyes to the ground, he scanned for any signs that might indicate
what stairs were most traveled upon. Everyone waited in silencecertain
hed provide the answer--as he moved up and down the platform, checking
for any telltale evidence. But finally he walked back, and his look spoke
before he did.
Not so much as a speck of disturbed dust, scratches on the stone, or
worn pathway from ten thousand seasons of foot travel, he uttered,
shaking his head. Its like this place is brand
new.
Raven took a look up and down the platform. Far down at the south end, the
platform appeared to turn into a corridor leading someplace east.
Do we split up? asked the Highlander, guessing her thoughts as
he folded his muscular arms.
Raven, continuing her scan of the area, nodded slowly. Yeah,
she said quietly.
Bad idea in a dungeon, Raven, Espidreen warned from
behind.
Lets just be careful, Raven added, ignoring her advice.
Nightshadow, she said, pointing east, see where that corridor
down there goes. Follow it down as far as you feel comfortable. Thor--just
pick some stairs that look good to you, and see if you get lucky and find
a way up to the fourth story.
The Mistress of Freeport then pointed to a landing directly above them.
Fosmo--up onto the landing there. See if anything leads off it that
might go up to the fourth story. Romulus and Mac Tavish, you two check out
those stairs there, she ordered, pointing to what seemed to be the
highest set--though, as Doremi had pointed out, there was no guarantee the
stairs would lead where they needed to go.
Espidreen raised her mace toward a broad set of stairs. Those stairs
there seem a bit wider than the others, Raven.
Except they only go up about ten feet, Espy, Raven
observed.
Still, we should check them.
The rest of you do that, and Doremi and I will take some other set.
No one go too far, and for goodness sake be careful! Beat feet back
here at any sign of trouble! Oh, and by the way--let me know if you spot
a garderobe or piscina.
Doremi looked over to her. Need to find a water closet? she
asked.
Raven scowled back. Not for me--a garderobe may have a cess hole leading
down into the Pit! If its big enough, we might be able to go down
it!
Doremi grimaced, for the idea sounded none too appealing.
Fosmo was no happier. Me thought me sewer-crawlin days was over,
eh.
Apparently, you were wrong, Burglar, Espidreen spoke to him as
she passed by.
D y rreally think theyd build a sewerr overr the
head of Asmodeus? Mac Tavish asked.
Cyllindrethifls face showed surprise at the Highlanders casual
use of the name so close to the Pit, and immediately her ears turned
stiff.
I wouldnt speak that name too loudly in here, she
whispered.
Ill speak that name, broke in the Knight as he raised his
blade, and speak it with an oath, too! And if he care to defend it,
my sword be ready to give satisfaction!
Who knows, Mac Tavish, Raven answered the Highlander, ignoring
Giles comment, --its just a stab in the dark. Lets
go!
That said, the Fellowship now began splitting off in what could be a fatal
gamble. Nightshadow, moving at a fast limp, hustled south, disappearing around
the corner while Fosmo reached up for the railing from the landing above
and, in one move, pulled himself up and vanished from the groups view
as he swung his legs over.
Raven and Doremi made their way up a stone stairway to a small round platform
that split off in three directions. Quickly, the Mistress of Freeport was
drawn forward toward a dark recess another ten feet above them, and she slung
her bow, unsheathing the smaller of her two swords.
Only Doremis trained ears noticed a ringing as the blade was drawn
forth. High-pitched, it resonated for several moments as Raven positioned
the sword close in to her body before starting forward toward the
recess.
The Bard was impressed--the steel the sword was made from must have been
near perfect in its alloys and form to ring with such a musical
tone.
Youre really gonna use that funny scimitar, huh? Doremi
spoke from behind as Ravens eyes scanned forward for the first sign
of danger.
The only thing funny about this sword, came the reply, is
the look on its victims face as it tears out his throat about the same
time he realizes he was disemboweled a moment before. And its not a
scimitar; its called a wakizashi. The bigger one is a
katana.
Im no expert on swords, but it seems to me a good longsword would
be much better since its a heavier weapon that you can also thrust,
unlike your wakizashi, which obviously isn't made for thrusting as
a regular sword is.
Like you said, Doremi--youre no expert on swords, Raven
muttered. Now quiet down.
They were nearly to the alcove and Raven slowed to a creep as she began moving
the last few feet in an almost sideways gate, keeping her weight on her right
leg. Doremi surmised she was prepared to pivot to the left and bring down
the sword down toward her in one fast slash against any enemy that showed
itself, an unusual stance for a warrior.
Then the pair were at the opening, and enough light penetrated within to
reveal it was nothing more than an octagonal-shaped alcove piled high with
stacks of dusty old tomes. Again showing caution, Raven paused just before
the opening, scanned left and right to assure herself nothing dangerous was
within, then quickly ducked her head in and out, looking up to the roof.
Nothing was there either, and so she stepped in for a fast look, glancing
about the chamber for anything of special interest.
Doremi leaned in for her own look.
I appreciate your caution, the Bard mentioned to Raven as she
braced herself against the two sides of the entry and peered in. You
cant be too careful in a dungeon.
My feelings exactly, Raven agreed.
I hope we do find a water closet somewhere along the line,
though.
Raven gave her a look.
I have a weak bladder--I cant help it! Doremi exclaimed
in response.
The Mistress of Freeport shook her head. Just find some corner, and
go, she suggested.
You mean on the floor?! Isnt that rather
rude?
Afraid of offending the Liches, are you? Were going to do a lot
worse to this place before were done tonight!
Shaking her head, Raven then made her way past the humble Bard, looked around
at the maze, and then started up a different set of stairs. These led up
to a small chamber where another steep set of stairs headed somewhere down.
They ignored this chamber, turning back for the landing.
The others, save for Nightshadow, were also returning and emerging from their
brief explorations.
Raven paused, looking across to Fosmo, whod come back from the landing
hed climbed up to. The Burglar shook his head and extended his
palms.
Theres chambers behind here, and some have stairs going up--but
how do we know they go up to where we wanna be? he asked.
Meanwhile from below, Espidreen stepped into view and looked up to the
pair.
We found something
interesting, Raven, her voice echoed out as she raised her mace back
toward the chamber theyd just emerged from. A
zoo.
Theyve got a zoo in here?! the Mistress of Freeport
exclaimed in shock.
Not one with living animals, Raven, Cyllindrethifl explained
as she looked over Espidreens shoulder. These stairs lead into
a large chamber with many stuffed creatures, including some I have never
seen before.
And at the far end is a double stairway leading up--possibly to the
fourth level, added Espidreen. We didnt go beyond the chamber
itself to check it.
I suppose thats as good a place to start as any then, Raven
spoke, continuing down. Lets wait on the landing for the
rest.
It took only a few more minutes for everyone else to return, and none bore
any better news than the two Witches. There simply was no way to know, without
simply picking a direction and exploring it completely, which path would
lead to the next level.
Last of all, Nightshadow emerged from the hall hed explored and made
his way over. His arms, holding both scimitars, were swinging in somewhat
exaggerated movements to control his balance as he approached, and his limp
was very obvious.
Apparently, his left leg was giving him some problems.
Anything? Raven asked him.
Something interesting, at least, he replied.
The Mistress of Freeport nodded back, encouraging him to explain.
That hall goes down to the very end of the building, where it seems
to end in an area of natural rock, he replied, gesturing south with
his right-hand scimitar.
Im guessing its where the mountain is, behind the
complex. Down at the end of the hall is a huge bronze grate blocking the
way to someplace behind the building. I tried to go Ethereal to move through
it, but something prevented the Talisman from allowing me to shift into the
Ethers.
Natural rock...the Pit, maybe? Raven wondered.
The Rogue shrugged. Dont know. There are lots of doors, along
with other corridors branching off north, undoubtedly leading
toward the Pit, anyway. But as to whether the Pit is behind that
wall of bronze, I cant say, Raven. I can tell you theres no
obvious way to move it. I couldnt even budge it with my
strength.
Hearing this, Raven looked about at the others in the group.
What about with the help of the other men? she wondered.
Ive got to believe weve got enough stallions in this party
to lift anything.
Maybe, Nightshadow said with a nod. Thors strength
added to mine, with the other men here, might be enough to force it up. Even
if we cant get it open we wont be wasting much time, and can
always come back here to look for another way up.
Raven turned to have a brief council with her two Witches, and as she did
Fosmo drifted over to Nightshadow.
Leg givin ya problems, Mate? he asked, looking down at
Nightshadows left leg.
It always gives me problems, came the somber reply as the red
eyes looked back at him.
Whats wrong with it, eh?
Nightshadows gaze dropped for a moment to his left leg. Dragon
crushed my heel years ago.
Snap dragon? asked the Cutpurse, looking down to the Rogues
boot.
Dragon dragon, came his response.
Ya mean a real dragon? he asked in shock.
The masked visage nodded.
Thought there wasnt no more true dragons in
Islay!
There arent--now.
Fosmo then glanced to the Mind Sapphire for a moment, then looked
into Nightshadows eyes. Dont yer Talisman heal ya
up?
Nightshadow shook his head. It happened before the Mind Sapphire
activated, he explained. They splinted it up, but it never healed
rightly. Ever since, every time I put any weight on my left heel its
like a knife. It wasnt so bad at first, but as the years have passed
it hurts more and more. Most of the time, I can deal with it; other times,
its quite a bother. Right now, it feels like someones pounding
on it with a mace--and, of course, it had to pick tonight, of all nights,
to act up! Ill be fine, though.
Okay, Raven now spoke up, turning back to the Rogue.
Lets give Nightshadows grate a try. If were lucky,
itll get us into the Pit and we can make our way straight up to the
Throne room.
The Gladiator now glanced back and forth between Raven and her cousin.
Youve mentioned that a couple of times now, he spoke.
Im still not picturing it--just how is this Pit thing laid
out?
Let me answer that, Raven, Espidreen broke in.
The Witch locked her eyes with those of the Gladiator. At the very
top, and roughly center, of the tower should be Nostradamus Throne
room, she explained. Its directly over the center of the
Pit so that the power of Hell below flows up through the throne and keeps
the Liche alive. We assume its built fundamentally the same as
Throckmortons own Throne room. That Throne room is likewise centered
over the Pit at his own School, and a bridge leads to it from other areas
of what would correspond to the tower complex here. By scaling the sides
of the Pit, or by using a moon rope spell, we presumably can reach
the bridge and gain ingress to the Throne room.
How do you know theres a bridge even up there, and that its
laid out the same? Romulus now questioned. Its always possible
all thats up there is the bottom of the floor of the top level,
right?
We know, spoke Raven, because the Schoolmasters are famous
for throwing people down the Pit. There must be an opening for Nostradamus,
just as there is for Throckmorton. Even if not, well simply break through
the floor using brute force or Cyls magic, and get in that
way.
That seemed to satisfy the Gladiator, and he fell silent as he glanced up
into the shadows, trying to catch any possible movement.
I think we should definitely have a map in this place, Raven,
Cyllindrethifl suggested.
Good idea, Cyl, her mistress agreed. Doremi, why dont
you handle that? Youve got some paper and a piece of charcoal, I
assume?
Oh, you dont have to worry about that, Raven, Doremi responded.
I have a perfect memory. We dont need a map, because I can remember
every twist or turn we make--even in this place.
Raven cocked her head to the right and stared back at the Bard. And
what if you die, Doremi? she asked. How do those of us with lesser
memories find our way back?
The Bard grinned. Guess youll just have to keep me alive,
huh?
No one else seemed to appreciate the humor of the statement, so Doremis smile faded after a moment.
Fine--Ill make a map then, she spoke.
Thank you. In fact, I want you to make two maps. Just copy a second
when we take a break from walking or something, and that will be fine. Also,
when you get a chance, please make a fast diagram on how to go from the outside
up to the stairway here, and vice versa.
Why two maps? asked the Bard.
How about, so if we split up again, both groups have their own map?
Is that a good enough reason for you, Doremi?
You dont have to snap at me; I was just asking,
Raven!
Lead on, Raven now ordered, ignoring the Bards irritation,
and silently the group began falling in behind Nightshadow and Thor as they
marched to the southern end of the platform.
The Black Powder
Anyone who knows will tell you the most dangerous part of a School of
Sorcery is its alchemical laboratories. Its here that all wizards must
spend a considerable amount of time in training to master the art of brewing
potions and elixirs, for even so much as a slight imperfection in their
preparation can result in disaster. One can easily imagine, for instance,
the tragedy that can befall a person if
an elixir of detoxification fails to work, and work
immediately when swallowed.
Yet aside from the demands of general potion and elixir manufacture, the
true danger posed by the laboratories arises from the experimentation the
alchemists may undertake in researching new potions or elixirs. This can
be very dangerous, for the process of trial and error can produce everything
from poisonous compounds, which may do precisely the opposite of what the
wizard hopes, to fires or explosions that can burn down not just the lab,
but the whole School if not properly dealt with. Because of this, the
laboratories are usually set in an out-of-the-way place where the harm to
other persons or property can be minimized; and also, for this reason, its
rare that any truly new alchemical discoveries are made. Those who do experiment
with producing new compounds invariably do so at great risk.
They wasted no time in moving eastward down the long passage as the glow
from their enchanted lockets brought light into a place where darkness usually
ruled, chasing away the shadows for a moment before they swept back in to
reclaim their place. Though no one spoke, and although their footfalls were
muffled by thick throw rugs upon the floor, it seemed to Doremi they made
as much noise as a marching army as the sepulchral silence of the complex
was broken by the sound of clanking armor and rustling robes. Unsettling
as that was, even worse was the feeling she couldnt shake that they
were being watched.
The feeling was understandable, for it was eerie to be penetrating, at their
apparent leisure, one of the most forbidden areas in all Islay. But no opposition
to their invasion showed itself as they moved past darkened alcoves, closed
doors, or hallways branching north to unknown places.
The one truly bad thing everyone was painfully aware of was that nothing
before or behind them could possibly fail to see them because of their lights.
Thus, their chances of actually surprising anything were nil. Any enemies
who did happen to be in this place would undoubtedly have a first
strike at them, something that could prove deadly for whomever was the recipient
of that attack.
Yet when the first threat came, it was not by surprise, but with plenty of
warning--for everyone heard it before they ever saw it.
The group was nearing the end of the long hall with Nightshadow and Thor
twenty feet ahead of the rest when the pair began to pass yet another corridor
branching off north. It was then that they heard the steps--a slow, heavy
shuffling of something beyond the range of their locket lamps, drawing nearer
each moment.
Both men halted, knowing it was impossible to hide, and immediately Thor
reacted, leaping into the hallway and bringing up his shield as he set himself
to face whatever it was as the rest hurried up behind, ready for
trouble.
The huge Viking seemed to fill half the entryway as he stood there, muscles
visibly taut through his leather jerkin as he tightly gripped his hammer,
prepared to rear back and hurl it. Nightshadow, meanwhile, took his place
next to him, one scimitar positioned up to his right as the other was held
laterally, either one ready to slash out at the foe as soon as it got close
enough.
But Raven wasnt waiting for the enemy to get any closer. Thinking quickly, she shifted the bow to her left hand, then reached down with her right and slid open one of the doors of the metal can upon her belt. Out popped a small ceramic marble, and she hurled it down the hall into the darkness.
As it hit the flagstones, its thin ceramic shell broke, releasing a pellet
upon which had been cast a spell of light similar to that upon the
lockets.
The added light now revealed the creature advancing toward them: It had the
form of something that might have been seen in Krella, for it resembled a
warrior in greaves, breastplate and skirt, with an open helm upon its
head.
But this was no warrior of flesh; it was a construct of reddish-brown metal a good ten feet tall, slowly advancing toward them, its heavy footfalls loudly thudding against the stone floor of the corridor.
Iron golem! Espidreen realized as it was revealed to
view.
Darts! Raven instantly ordered.
The golem seemed to take no special notice, continuing its advance toward
them with the same slow gate, leaning from side to side so that its jointless
limbs could be lifted enough to shuffle forward in a jerky five-foot
stride.
Espidreen was first to strike the creature with an energy bolt as
she pulled a silver stud from her belt and threw it. The glowing dart streaked
out, impacting straight into the chest of the golem with a small explosion
when the creature was still a good twenty feet from Thor and
Nightshadow.
Cyllindrethifls own bolt hit its shoulder and the construct
seemed to flinch, though it continued on, unfazed. Finally, Raven pulled
a silver pellet from her belt pouch and hurled it.
The bolt hit and exploded in the golems face, halting it for
a moment as it was nearly thrown backward from the surprising force of the
spell.
But then it slowly leaned back upright and once again began moving forward.
Even so, Raven was satisfied. Front rank, finish him off, but dont
throw the hammer, Thor--too much noise, she cautioned.
The two warriors eagerly rushed forward to engage the creature, which now
halted and raised its two fists, focusing on Nightshadow. Thor was first
to reach it, bringing his hammer around in a powerful swing to collide with
the golems upper leg as he held his shield up, ready to parry any
punch.
The hammer connected with a solid thud against the constructs thigh,
but the golem ignored the blow and swung both fists at Nightshadow.
Realizing he was the target, the Rogue stopped in his tracks, instinctively
leaning backward and twisting to his left with surprising agility despite
his less-than-trim physique.
The blows missed, and the creature was delayed for a moment as it straightened
up for another strike.
The Rogue now jumped forward, swinging twice against the iron forms
right arm while bringing in his left scimitar for a slash against its
leg.
Sparks rained out from where the blows struck, and then the golems
arms were ready for another attack.
Thor, directly against the monster, leaned back and snapped forward, driving
the hammer against the golems hip. The Viking struck so hard that even
he gave a shudder from the sting in his hand as the unyielding iron form
of the construct took the full impact of a blow that would have killed any
normal man.
Still the golem paid him no notice, but again brought its fists down on
Nightshadow. This time, the Rogue was too close to dodge, and the golems
right fist struck him full in the left shoulder. There was actually a crunching
sound as his shoulder was crushed, almost driving him to the ground as
Dellendryll, the scimitar in his left hand, flew from his grasp.
Sensing the golem was fixed upon his comrade, Thor dropped all defense, stepping
forward and making a roundhouse blow against the golems kneecap, its
weakest point. A tremendous clang rang out as the blow struck home, yet the
golem seemed unfazed as it remained fixed on its original target.
As soon as the huge fist broke Nightshadows shoulder, the
Mind Sapphire healed its bearer, the power flowing through him
and repairing the crushed bone and torn cartilage. Even so, the masked warrior
felt the ghastly pain for a moment as he nearly went to the ground from the
force of the strike. Then he retaliated, swinging his remaining scimitar
for two quick slashes against the golems arm and leg as he backed up
a step.
Thor now dropped his shield and grasped the hammer with both hands for extra
power, windmilling it, over and over into the knee of the golem. The blows
were beginning to bear fruit, for the constructs knee began flattening
out of shape with each hit as the golem, totally ignoring the threat to his
left, seemed fixed on trying to strike the smaller target to its
right.
The golem now made a backhanded swing with its right arm that connected with
Nightshadows upper body, and the Rogue was driven into the wall, nearly
knocking him senseless. Yet the Talisman again did its work, and the warrior
recovered, instinctively slashing out with Brigit, his remaining
blade.
The others were holding their breath in the hallway, a few yards away, transfixed
by the battle. Mac Tavish, though, was fidgeting nervously at seeing the
beating Nightshadow was taking, and he looked over to Raven. She glanced
back and forth between he and the fight, and then nodded her permission.
Quickly, the Highlander sheathed his claymore and laid down his shield. Reaching
back for the massive axe strapped across his back, Mac Tavish moved forward,
eager to join the fray and give the golem a taste of steel.
By now, Thor had maneuvered behind the golem and was striking again and again
at the rear of the creatures knee, while Nightshadow focused on dodging
and getting in a swing whenever the slow golem straightened up before raising
its fists for another blow.
As the Highlander approached, Nightshadow ducked to his right as one of the
iron fists missed, passing through where his head had been a moment earlier.
This was what Mac Tavish had waited for: As the golem pivoted round to its
left, the Highlander timed his own blow perfectly, bringing his powerful
arms back and up in a great circle, whipping the two-handed axe in for a
massive blow against the iron body.
The axe struck dead center in the golems belly with so much force that
the corridor rang out with a loud clang as the enchanted blade broke through
the golems shell. The creature nearly staggered back from the force
of the blow, but then a hissing sound was heard as the blade struck, and
as the Highlander wrenched it free for another strike, a cloud of green gas
shot out the crack just opened by the axe blade.
Instantly, Mac Tavish was enveloped by the gas, and the axe dropped from
his hands as he brought his hands up to his face, choking as he tried to
back away.
Poison gas! Espidreen shouted, backing up the corridor as the
cloud slowly expanded toward them.
Cyl, finish it off! Raven cried.
The Elf immediately thrust a hand into a pocket of her cloak, withdrawing
a small black pearl. Without even waiting to see its effects before retreating
to a safer position away from the noxious cloud, she cast it forward, then
moved away.
In flew the black pearl straight at the golem like an
energy bolt. The creature didnt even try to dodge--and
probably couldnt have even if it wanted to. The ether ball struck
it full in the chest, and for a moment the space around the construct seemed
to contract and distort in a sphere several feet in diameter. Then, despite
its tremendous mass, the golem seemed to fold back in half, contract, and
was instantly sucked into the portal with a loud WHOOSH.
Then the sphere was gone, leaving behind the cloud of gas and the three
warriors.
The Highlander, meanwhile, was choking as he stumbled backward, and Nightshadow
reached out to pull him back to the hallway as Raven dropped the bow to fumble
in her pouch for an elixir. Thor, apparently able to hold his breath before
the gas affected him, grabbed Mac Tavishs other arm to drag him out
of the corridor as quickly as possible. They laid him down on a carpet as
Raven popped the stopper and knelt down, trying to pour the concoction down
Mac Tavishs throat.
But he simply spit it up as he continued choking.
The Highlanders contorted face was covered with a green film, and several
sets of hands were trying to help wipe the thick goo off, but amidst all
of it he seemed unable to swallow or take in a breath--he just kept choking
even though he had no air left. It was as if whatever poison hed been
affected by was forcing him to choke up his very lungs!
He cant swallow! Raven exclaimed frantically, looking around.
Cyl--cast on him!
The Druid rushed back and knelt down next to him, reaching into a belt pouch
for some herbs. Then she waved them over the fallen warrior, quickly intoning
some words in Elvish.
Mac Tavishs face was now a beet red as he shook in his death throes,
no longer exhaling but still unable to inhale. Face bathed in sweat and his
veins nearly popping, the warrior was starting to pass out as he slipped
toward death, but then the Druids spell started taking effect. The
Highlanders body jumped and he started gasping, wheezing in deep breaths
as he writhed on the ground. After a few moments, the writhing stopped as
his burning lungs began to relax and his breathing became more
normal.
Raven by now had maneuvered behind him and knelt down, cradling the
warriors upper body as the strength returned to his limbs.
At last, he took a deep breath and looked around.
Im arright now, he muttered hoarsely.
Just sit there for a moment, Raven ordered, patting his shoulder
and regaining her feet as she reached for the bow.
Romulus now leaned over to Cyllindrethifl as she stood up. Good thing
you had that memorized, he remarked. If itd been me, Id
have relied on elixirs, and memorized something else in its
place.
Thats why youre a Gladiator and not a Witch, remarked
Espidreen from a few feet away. Smart Witches always plan for the
unexpected.
After a few moments, Mac Tavish held his hand up and Thor reached down and
helped pull him to his feet. The Viking winked and slapped the Highlanders
arm with a nod as he handed back the axe. Mac Tavish nodded back and was
shaky for a bit, but then he nodded and related that he was recovered enough
to continue.
Raven looked up and down the hall. Seems like our luck is still
holding--dont ask me how, but no one seems to have heard the fight,
thank the gods.
It may well be the Liches are either in the tower itself or in the
other buildings, Raven, Espidreen speculated.
Lets hope, Espy. Other than that, I wish I knew what that poison
was the golem used on Mac Tavish. Its got to be some of the nastiest
stuff Ive ever seen. Im not even sure our ruby dust is
as good!
Do golems normally have poison like that? asked Doremi, with
a note of concern.
If you enchant them to, Cyllindrethifl answered, clasping her
hands behind her back and standing there demurely. Golems can be enchanted
to do any number of things. This one, it seems, had been crafted with a chamber
containing the poison gas. Very cunning, if I may say so.
Well, we were wondering what sort of guardians they might have
had up here. Now we know, Espidreen added.
Doremi, Raven now spoke as she glanced to the Bard, have
you ever seen any golems here before?
The Bard shook her head. Not when I was here, she
answered.
They could be something new, Raven, Espidreen commented. Or
perhaps they limit their patrol to only critical areas.
A wise choice on their part to use golems, Cyllindrethifl
remarked. Golems work twenty hours a day without rest, they can walk
about the whole level, and if they meet anything, they have a good chance
of killing it.
Raven looked to the Bard. Did you by chance ever do much exploring
in the tower where you would be able to speculate if these would actually
be a new addition, as opposed to something here you didnt know
about?
No, I didnt set foot outside the limited area they assigned to
me. I took some walks in the courtyard, but that was it.
I see.
Doremi caught the tone, and so she added, Of course, if they had led
me to believe I did have the run of the place, then I would
have looked around!
Raven picked the bow up from where shed dropped it as Nightshadow moved
down the corridor to retrieve the other items. This brings up the question
about how to handle them, the Mistress of Freeport spoke as she nocked
an arrow. If were going to be meeting more of these--and if they
have a poison that deadly inside them--do we rely only on spells to kill
them, or do we fight them and hope for the best?
The only spell that will guarantee an instant kill is an
ether ball, Raven, Cyllindrethifl answered. And we
need them for the Liches.
Well, fortunately Espidreen has brought along some extra
ether ball scrolls. How many you got, Espy?
Five, Raven, answered the Witch, patting the pouch that hung
from her belt.
Well...keep them ready. If we run into any more of these, well
hit them with those unless we decide we can risk fighting.
With the Highlander able to walk again, the group continued east, quickly
reaching the grate discovered by Nightshadow at where the hallway ended and
turned north. As the Rogue had indicated, it was a massive portal, crafted
of beaten bronze reinforced with girders bolted to it by rivets whose heads
were big as fists. The whole thing was twenty feet wide and three-quarters
as tall, and it sealed off the hall from some other area.
The question was just how to raise it.
Fosmo quickly moved up and began tapping and pressing the stonework, hunting
for some hidden switch or secret panel, but soon concluded either there was
none, or else it was hidden awfully good.
Finally giving up, he looked over and shook his head at the
Fellowship.
Espidreen, meanwhile, reached out and ran her own hand along the stonework,
observing where it turned from finished stone into natural limestone a few
inches before the portal.
The Pit, you think? Raven asked her.
She shook her head slowly. I dont know, Raven. Possibly. But
were awfully far from the center of the complex. Unless it leads around
part of the complex to the eastern side of the Pit.... Raven, I just dont
know, she concluded. This may be part of the mountains
caverns...it may be some sort of mine....
The Witch turned away from the wall to look at her mistress. We wont
know unless we get through, she spoke as she turned now to view the
portal itself. But as to how to do that....
Want us to try and lift it? Nightshadow offered.
Raven instead nodded to the western wall. Theres something on
the other side of this wall. Lets backtrack to the last hallway and
try to find out what it is. We may find a windlass or something. If not,
then well see what brute strength can do.
The last corridor was only fifty feet behind them, and so it took only moments
to retreat up the hallway and turn north, where a wide old oaken door, inset
between two pillars of stone to the sides of an archway, beckoned.
Thor reached out and tried the handle, and it came as no shock it was
locked.
Check it, Fosmo, Raven ordered, and the Cutpurse quickly moved
up to examine the lock mechanism and the doorway itself, scanning for some
sort of trap.
He made a quick wink and plunged a pick from his pouch into the lock, twisting
and turning it. Shes fine, methinks.
Fosmo seemed as good as his reputation--it took no longer to unlock it than
if hed had the key, and then the handle turned freely.
His task done, the Cutpurse stepped away and swept his hand back to the door,
inviting Thor to open it.
Holding his hammer in his left hand with the shield, the Scandian turned
the knob and pushed the door open, quickly shifting the hammer back to his
right hand as he peered in, prepared to fight whatever might be
inside.
But no creatures met anyones gaze. Behind the door loomed only a shadowed
chamber vaguely revealing sets of tables and shelves of pots and beakers
in the light of the groups lockets.
The Viking stepped in and the group began following.
Everyone but Raven, that is.
As the others moved in, she retreated to the corridor, listening, then held
up her locket, peering back down the way theyd come. Thankfully, no
sounds met her ears, nor did anything show itself.
Satisfied they were still unnoticed, she joined the others into the
chamber.
An alchemical lab, Espidreen spoke as she entered. No windlass,
though.
Sure enough, Raven noted that it was a large workspace for the manufacture
of some sort of magical concoctions. Large mortars and pestles rested upon
tables at the center of the chamber while other parts of the room were stacked
with barrels or shelving, or had workbenches and nooks placed against the
walls. Northward, thirty feet or so down, the room turned left, extending
west.
Cyllindrethifl, standing near a stack of small kegs, was prying off the top
of one with a dagger, and then looked inside. She reached in and withdrew
her gloved hand, allowing a stream of black granules to fall back
in.
Some sort of powder, Raven, she announced. I do not recognize
it.
Espidreen stepped over to the Elf and took her own look, rubbing some of
the powder between her own gloved fingers.
Espy? Raven asked.
Dont know, Raven, she concluded.
CLICK.
We gots some stuff over here in these big barrels, Raven. Fosmo
now spoke from the eastern side of the chamber, pointing to several large
barrels behind him. Smells like sulfur, looks like charcoal or fireplace
soot, and resembles some kind of crystals...like salt or
something.
Whatever the crystals are, dont get any on your hands,
Fosmo--probably kill you, Raven warned.
The Cutpurse moaned. Gimme some credit, Raven--meve been known
to be stupid, but never bloody stupid!
Intrigued by mention of crystals, Cyllindrethifl wandered over to Fosmo as
Raven joined Espidreen.
Ive seen crystals like this before, spoke the Elf as she
looked down into the barrel. Looks like the ones you see in bat
caves.
Raven was looking down into the keg next to Espidreen when a thought struck
her, and she spoke out: Anybody got a torch? I wanna see if this stuff
burns.
Got one in me pack, Raven, Fosmo answered up as he removed his
pack and began rummaging through it.
Not a good idea, Raven, Espidreen cautioned. Could be dangerous
to just throw a torch into this stuff.
CLICK.
Im just gonna test out a handful of it, Espy, Raven answered
as she reached into the barrel for a small handful of powder. Then she looked
round for a handy spot and spread the powder upon a table.
Fosmo quickly had a torch out and was striking some jasper and steel to light
it, then he headed over to Raven.
Okay, stand back and hold your breath in case it gives off a gas or
something, Raven spoke as she took the torch from Fosmo. That said,
she held her breath and tossed the torch on the table as she twisted and
ducked away. The powder instantly vanished with a loud WHOOSH, leaving behind
an acrid smell and a small cloud of gray smoke.
Hmm, was Ravens conclusion after she looked
back.
Fosmo waited for a moment to make sure it was safe, then retrieved the torch
and stamped it out.
Well, it burns...sort of, Espidreen spoke.
CLICK.
For the third time, Raven now heard the sound.
Whos making tha--Doremi, what are you doing over
there?!
The Bard, standing by a workbench against the western side of the wall, looked
over her shoulder. Nothing, she answered, --Im just
looking at this fire-starter thing.
Raven walked forward. What fire-starter thing? she wanted
to know.
Doremi held it up, and whatever it was, it was beautiful. The Bards
first thought had been that it was an instrument of some sort, for it bore
a tube of steel, ornately engraved with knot work and spirals, that flared
out at its end like a flute or wind instrument. It was set in a walnut stock
that curved down at its end into a silver pommel of sorts that was fashioned
in the form of a skull.
The curious part was that it had a trigger, and if you pulled back a fitting
on the side that held a piece of flint sandwiched between two small jaws,
it would snap forward and make some sparks when it came into contact with
another metal fitting before it.
Raven grasped the device by the tube and examined it.
Some kind of mace? Club? she wondered as she pounded the skull
into her left palm.
No, I think it makes fire, Doremi insisted. It sparks,
and if you hold it by a torch, it will probably light it.
Raven now withdrew a metal ramrod set beneath the metal tube and stared at
it.
Then whys it got this plunger?
The other two Witches were intrigued by now and also drew near to examine
the queer object for themselves.
In fact, this was not the only one, but there were a number of similar
contrivances, though decorated differently--some with pommels at the bottom
of the stock, and some without--set upon shelves as if waiting to be used
for some purpose.
Cyllindrethifl reached out and took one up.
I dont know, Raven, answered Doremi. I have no idea
what the plunger is for.
Several times, Cyllindrethifl pulled back the flint-fitting and tugged on
the trigger, producing sparks. Then she looked upon the workbench and observed
a number of nooks holding parts corresponding to those upon the device, and
some others that did not, but which notably were filled with some silver
pellets.
Since these are here in the same room with the black powder, Raven,
the Elf spoke, it could indicate that they go
together.
Thats what I was thinking, Raven responded. In fact,
I think I know what this does!
Raven grasped a small keg of the black powder and poured it down the tube
until it was almost to the top. First you pour in the powder,
she spoke.
Okay, Doremi said, watching. Then what?
Well...then you take one of these pellets, Raven continued, wedging
one into the top of the tube, and stuff it in with the plunger to cork
it off.
This she did. Then she pulled the flint fitting back into position and held
the device with the tube pointed upwards.
Then you pull the trigger...and you throw it, she speculated,
imitating the move. And it will explode, doing some
damage.
Cyllindrethifl squinted, unconvinced. Seems like an awful lot of trouble
to go through, Raven. Wouldnt you think a bottle of oil would do just
as good?
Youd think, Raven agreed.
It has to do something else, Raven, Cyllindrethifl
spoke.
Well, Im open to enlightenment, Cyl.
Espidreen, meanwhile, was wandering down a few feet when she came upon a
rack holding a dozen more of the odd devices.
Raven, look at this, the Witch spoke, leaning down and coming
up with one twice as long. This one is bigger, and looks like a
crossbow!
Sure enough, the device was longer, with a brass tube over a foot and a half
long that flared out almost like a trumpet at its end. But its short stock,
rather than designed to be held in the hand, resembled something more like
a crossbows, for it was flat and could be held up to ones
shoulder--although it would be somewhat cumbersome to do so, and a person
would be in an odd position with their right arm bent out sideways as they
grasped the trigger, while their left arm reached across to hold onto the
wooden stock beneath the brass tube.
Must be made for a Wighead, Raven spoke. A normal person
couldnt hold that comfortably.
Espidreen experimented with the positioning of the device, finally concluding
that wedging it against her hip was the best place to hold it.
Doremi stepped over to the Witch and watched for a moment, then noticed a
row of even longer versions of the device, about as long as a broom, set
into their own rack.
This one looks more comfortable to use, she spoke as she took
one up and raised it to her shoulder. You know, it does remind me of
how one handles a crossbow, although its a couple feet longer,
obviously.
It was then she pulled the trigger and the device made a flash of smoke and
exploded with a tremendous report, the like of which she had never heard
before! Just as quickly, something went banging around and off the walls
of the chamber, ricocheting about the room as everyone stood frozen in shock.
Finally, the pellet struck Thors helmet, making a scratch, and bounced
off.
The Viking bent over and picked up the flattened silver pellet, then dropped
it back down after examining it.
The device, meanwhile, had clattered to the floor from the shocked Bard who
let go like it was a snake.
Whyd it do that?! she gasped.
Intrigued, Raven walked over and picked up the device, running her hand upon
it, trying to draw a conclusion about the gadgets purpose. Then she
sniffed at the smoke coming out from the mouth of the tube.
Either the Bard did something wrong, or else it is meant to do whatever
just happened, Raven, Espidreen concluded.
Sounded like thunder, Thor observed, repositioning his helmet.
I dont think I like it, whatever that thing is.
Perhaps its a weapon, Espidreen speculated.
Cant be much of one, Raven answered, laying the device
aside. A pellet that small isnt going to hurt something bigger
than a rabbit. It didnt even scratch Thor, and it hit him in the head!
Of course, she noted with a wink, you do have a hard head,
Thor.
The Viking grinned.
Thats what his wife says, too, Nightshadow spoke, looking
over to the Viking. In fact, I think shes going to remind him
of that when he gets home!
Thor groaned and shook his head. Had to remind me, didnt you?
Well, maybe Ill be lucky and the Liche will kill me
tonight!
Oh--so I can go face her, and tell her youre dead?! No
thank you--you stay alive, and deal with her yourself!
Psst!
The joking was interrupted by Fosmo, who had moved down to the other end
of the room where it turned west, across from a forge in the northeast corner
of the chamber. He was waving for them come down, and pointing to
something.
The something was the largest version of all the devices! It had to
have weighed ten stones or more, for it was a bronze pipe four feet long
and almost a foot wide, set upon a carriage with four wheels. Forty or fifty
feet before it lay the broken remains of a section of stone wall that had
been erected there, possibly as a target.
A triangular pile of bronze balls, several inches in diameter, lay stacked
upon the floor next to it with a long plunger laid against them.
I dont know too many rabbits Id use this thing on,
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke as she picked up one of the
balls.
Ignoring the comment, Raven likewise picked one up. Half a stones
weight or so, she noted.
This thing is meant to shoot these balls at stonework, Raven,
Espidreen concluded. Its a sort of siege weapon. Perhaps its
as good as a catapult, while being much smaller!
Ravens eyes widened. Catapult! she exclaimed. What
if we put one of these on the Widow? If its as good as a catapult,
imagine what it might do to the wooden hull of a ship!
Espidreen shrugged. Youd know better than I about that sort of
thing, Raven.
Youre not planning on us dragging this thing around, I hope!
Romulus exclaimed.
Raven shook her head. No. Not that Id mind hauling this thing
out, but theres no need--this thing is only a bronze pipe with a hole
drilled in it at the front, and one drilled in the top here, she noted,
patting a small hole at the back of the device. I can cast it back
in Freeport with no problem. The key is that black powder! Thats what
makes it work. We need to figure out how to make the
powder.
Seems pretty simple, Raven, Cyllindrethifl answered. Sulfur,
creosote, and bat guano crystals. We just need to find the right combination,
but that shouldnt be much of a problem.
Well...Ive got so many chimneys at the Inn, creosote wont
be a problem! And heaven knows there are enough bat caves in Islay that we
should be able to get the crystals. Sulfur is all over Krella. So, if nothing
else, I think weve found something that will prove very useful to us
in the future! was Ravens final conclusion.
Raven! Nightshadow called out, nodding for her to join
him.
He was standing by a desk, leafing through some parchments, and he held one
out. The Mistress of Freeport grasped the parchment and noted it was a diagram
of an even bigger device--this one tall as a man by its looks.
Theyre thinking of making an even larger one, Nightshadow
spoke. One that big could knock down some pretty thick walls it seems
to me.
And we can guess who they plan to use it against, too, she responded.
I wonder what Throckmorton would have paid to know what Nostradamus
was planning for him?
Thor let out a breath. We really should be moving--this is taking up
too much time, Raven.
She nodded in response and took a last look around. For some reason
these small devices are more complicated than the bigger one. Lets
take some so we can reproduce them back in Freeport. Well figure out
how useful they are later.
Cyllindrethifl reached over and removed one of the hand devices from the
rack and tucked it in her belt. She retrieved another and offered it to the
Knight.
Want one, Giles? she asked.
Nay--tis unchivalrous at best, Lady, came his
reply.
Mell take one, Fosmo spoke enthusiastically, looking over
the rack and snatching one of the devices to tuck in his belt.
Doremi approached the racks and chose a brace of them for herself: Identical
twins with lions head butts, hanging from a leather baldric. Quickly,
she slung the baldric around her, then removed her pack and rummaged through
it for a small sack that she then filled with some of the black powder from
a keg atop the table. She finished by tossing in some of the silver
pellets.
What should we call these things? Doremi asked as she stood up
and slung the pack back on.
The Elf thought for a moment. Thunder-strikes? she
suggested.
Thunder clubs? Thor spoke up.
I like Thunder fires, Espidreen added.
Lets call them Thunder sticks, spoke Raven,
making the decision. As to the bigger stuff here, Espy--can you get
a portable pit open so we can dump some of the barrels inside
it?
The spell was something Doremi was aware of: It was a handy, though higher-rank
spell that would permit an enchanted pit to open up on a floor. Items could
be stored within it until such time as the pit was reopened elsewhere and
the goods retrieved.
I have two scrolls of it, Raven, but Im sure it wouldnt
work here inside the School.
Raven pondered the problem for a moment.
What about that area back there with the grate--where we think it turns
into caverns? the Mistress of Freeport asked. Would it work on
the other side, do you think?
The big thunder stick, stacked high with smaller ones, made quite a racket
as Mac Tavish and the Knight pushed and pulled it down toward the end of
the hallway, but Raven was confident that if they hadnt been
heard yet with all the noise theyd been making, no one would hear the
clattering of the four wheels either.
And, in fact, they didnt.
Then the Fellowship arrived at the portal and halted once again before the
wall of bronze, trying to judge how hard it would be to raise.
They sure want to keep people out of there, dont they?
Raven remarked as she looked it over again.
That, or they want to keep something in, answered the
Gladiator.
Raven squinted at him. Ever the optimist Romulus. Youre wrong
in this case, though.
Doremi twirl. And you know this because...? asked the
Bard.
Because the windlass isnt on this side, Doremi! More likely,
this grate is meant to keep people here from going past this
point.
Nightshadow, who looked rather comical toting a fifty-gallon barrel of the
black powder above his head, set it down upon the stone floor and came up.
Well, lets have a try at lifting it then.
Stallions, Raven spoke, gesturing toward the wall, have
at it!
The order given, the men sheathed their weapons and filed forward, lining
up along the grate with Nightshadow at its center and the others spreading
out to either side. Only Fosmo, knowing he was outclassed, held back with
the ladies.
His part would come soon enough.
Hands now reached out, bracing against the gratings girders as the
men readied themselves.
All right, Nightshadow spoke, looking to his left and right,
at the count of three.
One...two...threeeeee!
Groans filled the hallway as the men strained to lift the giant portal. The
Gladiators back and shoulder muscles stretched taut beneath his thin
layer of skin while the sweat flowed out the bronze warriors pores
as he grimaced from the strain. The other men were grimacing and groaning
from their own strain as muscle battled the incalculable weight of the wall
of bronze. A blue glow, meanwhile, was visible in front of Nightshadow as
the Mind Sapphire began strengthening him, and each moment his strength
increased as the glow brightened in unison.
Finally, the grate began to move. A loud scrape of metal against stone echoed
down the hall as the huge portal jerked upward several inches as the men
struggled to move it up.
The other side was apparently lit, for light was visible beneath the bottom
of the grate!
Bracing against the wall of bronze, Nightshadow slipped one hand, and then
the other, under the bottom lip of the grate for better leverage. Now using
his legs for more power, the portal began jerking upward. Thor copied the
move, and then the other warriors followed suit.
It was easier now, and up slid the grate, moaning in protest with each inch.
Yet they kept lifting, and in a few moments they had it nearly two feet off
the ground.
Fosmo, Raven spoke, inside--check for a
windlass.
The burglar crouched down for a fast look, then nimbly rolled under the door,
coming to his feet on the other side.
Theres counter weights, they heard him call back. Raise
it another foot or two so I can attach em!
Nearly at the point of exhaustion, the men made another big push as Raven
dropped her bow to the ground and, in one move, dropped and rolled under
the portal, hoping to aid the thief.
Another couple inches, then hold! she called out as she hurried
opposite to where Fosmo stood trying to secure a large hook to a huge eye
on their side of the grate.
Again, those on the door called upon the reserves of their own strength and
made one last push, bracing their knees against the bottom lip of the grate
and holding it. For a moment, they held it, then they felt the pressure ease
somewhat and Raven called out, Okay, let her go!
The wearied men released their grip and the grate dropped over a foot, but
held. Then everyone could hear the sound of a windlass as the grate slowly
began rising as the two inside winched it up.
In a few moments, the others could see that beyond the grate was a cavern,
brightly lit by spells of some sort. A great windlass, connected to a pair
of thick chains, was hooked both to the door and a set of large counter weights
a few feet inside the passage.
Before shed even taken a step, Cyllindrethifl sniffed the
air.
Smell that? she asked Espidreen.
The Witch likewise sniffed and nodded. I suppose we now know where
they get their crystals.
Guano, Doremi realized. The smell of that, mixed with the aroma of ammonia,
was wafting through the open portal. Somewhere ahead was obviously a large
cavern that was home to a colony of bats.
The women followed the men into the next chamber as Nightshadow went back
to retrieve the barrel and the big thunder stick.
Raven, can you smell the bats? Espidreen asked as she ducked
in.
The Mistress of Freeport reached out to retrieve her bow from Doremi, who
was thoughtful enough to bring it in. Yeah, and I suspect I know why
they have such a big door here--to seal the smell off from the rest of the
complex, came her answer.
Are Liches able to smell? Doremi wondered.
Several large tubs lay about the chamber along with some tin sifters and
ceramic pestles. Apparently, the guano was allowed to dry, then the crystals
were sifted out and later brought into the laboratory for mixture with the
other ingredients.
This bringeth up a question, Lady, spoke up the Knight as he
unsheathed his sword again. Who closeth the gate, for it seemeth to
be raised and lowered from this chamber, and not yonder?
That well have to find out, Giles. Just keep your eyes open.
Espy, Raven now spoke to the Witch, try and get that pit
open, would you?
The Witch laid aside her mace, then removed her pack and began looking through
it. Quickly, she retrieved a scroll along with a black cloth that she unfolded
and spread upon the cavern floor. It was a circular patch of black silk three
feet wide emblazoned with Elven sigils, and Espidreen silently read the scroll,
imbuing her with energy. Then she began speaking the sigils, each of which
glowed with a silver fire until she spoke the last one, whereupon the cloth
vanished, replaced with a hole several feet deep.
I really like that spell, Doremi leaned over and whispered to
Cyllindrethifl. Its very handy.
Yes, agreed the Elf with a nod, Princess LrZl made
some wonderful spells. I admired her greatly, and have tried to emulate
her.
Did you know her personally?
I did. In fact, I Fellowshipped with her for a period of
time.
Doremi was impressed. I would have loved to meet her!
The Bard then patted her belt pouch. She made my pouch, you
know.
The Elfs eyes widened and she glanced down to Doremis
waist.
Which one is it? she whispered excitedly.
The spider web one.
Really! She lost that one on the trail between Nordenrodd and Erins
Gate, you know. I was with her at the time. She was very troubled at the
pouchs loss. Where did you ever come by it?
I got it as a treasure pick in Avalon. A vampire had come to own it
somehow, and I took it as a pick since our Sorcerer wanted his spell book.
Its the most precious thing I own--other than my lute, I
suppose.
Well, I am glad to see it in good hands.
Its interesting, Doremi spoke, that LrZl--like
you--broke with tradition to learn magic and become a treasure hunter. I
suppose it cost her personally, though, since she had to leave Ashvryl to
do it.
The Elf shrugged. Fortunately for her, she was a Princess, and thus
above the judgment of most others, for as a Princess she had the right to
be a priestess of Brigit and thus to learn the art of Magic. Even so, her
boldness in using spellcraft outside of Talon made her unpopular with many
of our people as they considered it brash. Most passed it off to her youthful
age, however. She was only about two hundred.
I dont mean to be critical of your people, but honestly Ive
never understood the logic of abandoning the use of magic in order to honor
your ancestors who died fighting Gorus. It would seem to me a greater tribute
to have continued the study of magic since it was you Elves who invented
it after all.
The Druid paused for a moment and then spoke.
There are Elves to whom that logic also makes no sense, she
admitted.
Well, Im glad youre one of the exceptions, Cyllindrethifl.
Youre a bright spot in this Fellowship.
The Elf folded her hands behind her back and smiled at her. Why thank
you. I appreciate your company as well. It is a refreshing
change.
How long have you known Raven? the Bard now asked.
Over twenty seasons. We met when she formed the Adventurers Guild
with Arcana. I had heard that Witches were being invited to settle in Freeport,
and I had a desire to come see the place.
So youve worked for her that long?
Yes, came the answer. Our relationship has been mutually
beneficial. I have learned quite a bit from her, and the things she wishes
me to do are unusual and interesting.
Doremi glanced around the chamber. Like spying on the School
here?
Indeed. I found it quite stimulating to undertake the challenge of
spying on Nostradamus without his being aware of it. I consider my success
in that endeavor noteworthy, and a demonstration of the superiority of Elven
Witchery over human Sorcery.
Oh you do, do you?! Nostradmus spoke to himself as he
watched them.
As the pair continued their conversation, the others had dropped the thunder
sticks and the barrel of powder into the pit. Espidreen, deciding to forego
her wimple, cast it inside as well, then leaned down, and in one tug pulled
the patch up like a bed sheet, causing the pit to vanish.
Done, spoke the Witch as she then folded it for storage in her
pack.
Raven nodded, pleased at the rescue of the items. Okay, she spoke
as she nocked an arrow, lets take a quick gander at where this
passage leads. If it doesnt lead anyplace useful, well backtrack
to the stairways. Lead on, Nightshadow.
Getting back to business, the group formed up again and started to continue
east, but they had not so much as taken ten steps when danger again reared
its head--and this time it would not be so easily dealt with as a
golem.
As one of the warriors in the front rank stepped upon a section of flooring,
a series of circles with glowing runes of power within them suddenly appeared
on the ground. It happened so fast that before anyone could even react they
glowed and pulsated, vanishing in a flash of red haze that arose from the
floor into the shapes of some sort of creatures.
Conjuration traps! Cyllindrethifl shouted as she looked about
the floor.
If the Fellowship had been nervous as they watched their means of escape
flying away, it paled in comparison to the apprehension felt by those left
behind on the Black Widow. These may have been hardened seamen, bold
enough to face the terrors at sea or the wrath of pirates, but everyone knew
they were out of their element here. Now, with the guardians of the voyage
left behind, they were on their own.
Back flew the vessel, passing over the empty courtyard. If the truth be known,
Nazier fully expected an energy blast to hit them, or, at minimum,
some sort of ambush by the stone gargoyles leering down at them from every
corner of the complex. But the attack never came, and in a few minutes they
were retreating into the dark safety of the dragon stables.
Inside, the vessel glided to a halt and Nazier concentrated. The
Widow then began pivoting about, and in a moment her prow was
again facing toward the courtyard. Then Nazier shifted her laterally until
her spars were against the southern wall of the stable. Finally, she touched
the ground with a solid crunch as her timbers groaned from the stress of
her own weight. The ship settled over with a slight list to starboard, and
then she was still as her spars braced against the wall of the
stables.
Nazier then let out his breath and reached over to retrieve his
crossbow.
Mister Grayson, he whispered as he looked over to his First Mate,
check the men--remind them, no talking!
Aye-aye, came the hushed response. Then the officer was gone,
quietly descending to the main deck.
As he had been ordered to do, Nazier stood near the helm for a quarter of
an hour in silence, giving every indication that the ship would do nothing
more than wait for its passengers to return.
And Nostradamus fell for the ruse.
He had observed the ship leaving his tower and retreating back into the Aerie,
thinking itself safely hidden. A few dozen sailors, even with their obvious
repeating crossbows, were no more a threat to the First School than a few
ants. Theyd be dead even now for the sheer pleasure of the act but
for the fact that the Liche had designs on the flying vessel, and he chose
to let ship and crew survive until he had dealt with those who dared infiltrate
his tower.
So it was, that Nostradamus chose to ignore the
Black Widow and focus only upon watching the Fellowship as they
made their way through his tower, just as Raven had intended he do if he
became aware of their presence.
It would be one of the few parts of her intricate set of plans that would
go exactly as predicted that night.
The Back Door
There was almost no time to react.
Position Two! Raven shouted as she grabbed Doremi and
shoved her roughly back against the wall of the cavern.
Already trained aboard the Widow for this, Fosmo and the Witches jumped
toward the Mistress of Freeport as the other men rushed to form three sides
of a square around them. Even so, they barely had time to get into position
before the enemy was upon them.
Hissing in rage, a dozen creatures swarmed upon the Fellowship the instant
they materialized.
Immediately Doremis throat tightened and became sore, and she knew
these had to be demons, for anyone whos ever had contact with them
knows the sore throat that comes upon you the moment youre in their
presence.
Even apart from that, one could have guessed the Infernal origin of these
creatures just by the way they looked, for while they bore the general similitude
of men, that was where the resemblance ended, for each was a twisted, grotesque
being that could only be born of Hell. From a pair of tiny webbed feet that
seemed all too small to bear the weight of the creature, two spindly legs
supported a torso that spread out in a V-shape to a bulky set of hunched
shoulders from which sprouted two thin, muscular arms ending in a pair of
vicious claws. The hides of the beasts also werent the color of flesh,
but rather a pallid green marked by hosts of warts and carbuncles that only
served to make them seem all the more twisted and contorted in their
appearance.
Espidreen recognized them as soon as she saw them.
Givosh demons! she shouted as she reached for a belt stud.
Theyre hard to strike, but keep attacking them!
Quickly, the men realized what she meant: Hissing and drooling, two came
at Thor, and his shield blocked the claws of one while his hammer came round
to the others head--but the Givosh momentarily became transparent and
the hammer passed right through it! Then the beast solidified again and drew
a claw across the Vikings face, opening four red gashes on his cheek
as Thor reared back for another swing.
Nightshadow was having better luck--his two scimitars were slashing against
a demon, and one of the strikes connected as he brought it down on the
creatures shoulder. The Givosh, stunned by the strength of the blow,
failed to enact its ability to shift partially to the Ethers, and the
Rogues next swing with the razor-sharp scimitar cut the beast in half
at the waist.
Instantly, the Givosh vanished in a puff of green smoke.
Meanwhile, one of the circles had chanced to form within the square where
the three women were, and Raven barely had time to drop her bow and pull
the wakizashi before the monster was attacking.
The Givosh leapt forward, trying to rake Ravens face with its claw.
But even as it began the attempt, Raven enacted what Doremi later found out
she called the scorpion kick, a move the Bard would have sworn was
impossible for the human body to make: As the creature started its strike,
Raven seemed to sense its intention, and in no more time than it would take
to blink ones eye, she leaned forward and contorted her body like a
rag doll, ducking her head while twisting her torso violently to the
left.
The Givoshs claw struck only air as it missed.
A dodge like that would have been impressive enough--but that was only half
the move, for as her torso bent forward and passed beneath the creatures
arm, Ravens left leg seemed to rise behind her as a counterbalance
and then snapped forward, with the flat of her heel kicking the Givosh full
in the face!
The beast hadnt been prepared, thus it failed to Ether-shift in defense,
and the smack-in-the-face stunned it for a moment.
Had Ravens move ended right there, it might justifiably have become
source for the telling of a legendary blow, a tale told by Bards around
the campfire of a move by a warrior so unparalleled in its effect that it
merited becoming a part of Islayan history.
But it didnt end there.
The moment her foot made contact with the face of the Givosh she snapped
back, raking the blade of the wakizashi deep against the right side of the
beast with the move, pushing forward on the swords handle with her
left hand as her right and shoulder pulled back on the handle. Then, as she
became upright again, the Mistress of Freeport finished by whipping the blade
around in a circle and drawing it across and down the front of the beast
from its shoulder to its waist.
The Givosh vanished in a puff of green smoke, and all this had taken place
in no more time than it took for the beast to simply swing its claw and
miss!
It was then that Doremi somehow comprehended what Nazier had been talking
about, and in that same instant of time she understood both how Raven fought,
and the implications of her style.
The Bard had seen countless fine warriors in her time. Men trained for battle
all had a skill of learning to counter the moves of their opponents while
perfecting their own strategies for attack. But these strategies varied little
from man to man, and often it was the person who was fastest or strongest
who came out the winner in a fight.
Typically, be one a man-at-arms or a skilled Knight, the moves were the same
whether you fought man or monster, and came in a sequence of threes:
Slash at the leg/shield bash/slash at the head. Or, shield
bash/thrust to the torso/slash to the leg. The idea was to force the
opponent to react and protect one area, then use ones own shield either
to lock the opponents shield to make an opening for ones sword,
or else come back with another attack to the most vulnerable part of his
body.
In a way, it was much like a dance, with two warriors moving and counter-moving
until one opponent out-lucked, out-fought, or out-lasted the other. Other
times, the unskilled, or those with great strength or agility, might simply
lash out with fast thrusts or slashes, relying on little more than luck,
power, or speed to get the blow in that would put down his
opponent.
The key in both cases was that combat, regardless of its speed, was generally
conducted either one move at a time or three moves at a time, and that was
how battles were usually fought.
But the Bard realized that Raven had taken that concept far beyond the norm.
For her, an entire fight was one single move made up of many parts. Battle
to her was just like a chess game: She would allow the enemy to come and
make the first move--an attack she would avoid. Then she would retaliate
with some sort of attack he wasnt prepared for, calculated to make
him react the most predictable way for the circumstances of the surprise.
In doing so, naturally some part of him would be left vulnerable and her
next attack would be right there. This would force the opponent to now react
in a predictable manner from that blow, predictably exposing some
other part of his body--which was her next target--and by means of
this continuing sequence she would come out the winner sooner or later, for
the moment her enemy missed his attack he was on the defensive from that
point forward, always one step behind her as he was led like a sheep to the
inevitable slaughter.
Yes, it was just like a chess game: Move and counter-move--only she was the
one forcing her opponent into moving into a position she knew he would have
to go, where she would already be prepared like a waiting spider to end her
victims life while he was entangled in her web.
That was why Lightfoot had come at her, swinging as fast and as hard as he
could. It was as close as he could come to mimicking what she could do, but
the difference between them was the difference between night and day. His
only hope was dumb luck, while every move she made was coldly and calculatingly
done with the full knowledge that she would manipulate her opponent into
doing exactly what she wanted without his even realizing it.
So it was, that the Givosh was dead the moment it tried to attack her. It
made a strike Raven knew would cause it to lean over to its left; her superior
speed allowed her to dodge, then she gave the demon a foot in the face it
hadnt been prepared for. For a split-second, that caused it to pause
as the wakizashi was now dragged across its exposed right side as the monster
was frozen in surprise and unable yet to respond. Instinctively, the Givosh
would then flinch to its right from the cut while simultaneously trying to
recover from the missed claw, leaving its left side now vulnerable and open
to a final slash of the blade, sealing its doom.
And all this, Doremi somehow knew, Raven could do instinctively without even
having to think about it, and she got away with it because that thin, small
sword of hers seemed to strike as fast as lightning because it was like it
was an extension of her arm!
It was interesting, to say the least.
A few feet distant, the men were having a tougher go of it. Their swings
were much more predictable and slow, and the Givosh were phasing in and out,
frustrating most of the attacks while successfully raking their opponents
half the time.
One of the monsters managed to squeeze between Thor and the Highlander, heading
toward the Witches. Raven, having just slain the other Givosh, saw it from
the corner of her eye and managed to intercept, spinning around and blocking
its advance. Snarling, the demon halted, lashing out toward her face and
shoulder with its claws, but again she seemed to twist her body like it was
a tree blowing in the wind, and both attacks missed. Then she pivoted back
as the Givosh raised its arms for another strike, and in one flurry of moves,
she brought the blade down in a slash, then up and across the torso of the
creature, and finally around and back down. Two of the three blows missed
as the demon managed to slip out of phase, but her last slash struck home
as her foot also shot out and impacted against its knee, throwing the beast
off balance as Fosmo leapt into the melee, his daggers slashing the unprepared
monster in a dazzling flash of steel.
Two energy bolts from the Witches finished it off before she could
do any more and the Givosh vanished, returning to the Hells from which it
had come.
The demon gone, Raven took a step back toward the three women.
Shift attacks on those three, she whispered to them as
she looked across to the fight between Romulus, Giles and
Nightshadow.
Both Witches seemed to understand her words and pressed forward, lining up
with her as they readied their weapons.
One...two...three! Raven whispered.
Instantly, the three women vanished, invoking shift spells, transporting
themselves from within the circle to behind three Givosh fighting the men.
In unison, the trio then attacked, with Raven decapitating the Givosh on
Nightshadow, Cyllindrethifl driving two daggers into the back of a demon
fighting Giles, and Espidreen crushing the skull of a Givosh on
Romulus.
The three demons dispelled back to Hell as Nightshadow and Giles quickly
took advantage of the move, leaving their positions to attack the Givosh
on the groups right flank.
But a lone demon that had been on the Gladiator now turned toward Cyllindrethifl,
thinking her to be the weakest available target.
The Witch backed off, twisting and dodging its claws as the demon struck
air with every swing, then the Elfs foot shot out and struck the
monsters knee as she then leaned forward, swiping her two daggers at
it in a series of lightning-fast figure 8s.
Apparently, Doremi realized, she knew some kara-te!
The Givosh lasted only a moment longer before Romulus thrust his gladius
through its back and Espidreens mace struck it for good measure. Then
it was gone.
Behind them, Thors slow hammer finally made solid contact with his
enemys face, and his Givosh vanished with the blow.
Now the tide of battle was turning, for the remaining demons were being
double-teamed as the formation of warriors shifted from protecting the Witches
to finishing off the opponents.
But now noise had at last become a factor, for from a dark aperture ahead
of them more enemies appeared: A band of six, thick-bellied ogres, attracted
by the sound of battle, had come up and was peering out toward the invaders.
Then, grunting in challenge, they lumbered forward.
Now if youve ever wondered why ogres are called
ogres, its because they make a sort of a grunting sound
that sounds like a snort, followed by a Grr. So they often sound like
theyre grunting out, Oh-grr. And these did that as they
charged forward.
They were greeted by Raven and Nightshadow who left to engage them as Doremi
simultaneously reached to her belt for the flute. She began to play as soon
as she whipped it up to her lips, and the last monster in the pack suddenly
halted as it entered the chamber and looked about in confusion.
Then its head sunk down and the beast simply dropped to the ground, fast
asleep.
The first one to reach Nightshadow raised a club over its head to strike,
but was moving so fast it ran headlong into his scimitar and impaled itself,
crumpling to the floor in a heap as the club dropped to the ground and the
Rogue spun to the left to let him fall.
The second reached him before he could reposition, and grasped the Rogue
in a bear hug, wrapping arms nearly as thick as the legs of an elephant around
him, lifting Nightshadow off the floor as it sought to squeeze the life from
its enemy.
The Rogue could be heard crying out in pain, then he was exerting all the
strength he could muster to break the clutch. But even with the power of
the Mind Sapphire behind him, the ogre somehow managed to retain its
grip, exerting every ounce of strength it had in hope of crushing his
spine.
Finally, Nightshadow released his right scimitar and struggled to free his
right arm. Kicking and twisting, he managed to get the hand free and reached
up to grasp the throat of the ogre.
Then he started to squeeze.
Almost instantly, the ogre released its grip and brought its hands to the
Rogues hand, desperately trying to break his grip. But now Nightshadow
was at full strength, the Talisman shining brightly, and he was squeezing
the beasts throat as hard as he could.
In moments, there came a snapping sound and the monster fell limp, hunched
against its enemys shoulders. Then, with a grunt, Nightshadow stiffened
his body and raised his arm to lift the ogre off of him--and he hurled the
thousand-pound carcass across the cavern and into a wall with no more effort
than one might toss a pillow!
Thor, meanwhile, had disengaged from the last two remaining Givosh and charged
forward to meet an oncoming ogre at least two feet taller and hundreds of
pounds heavier than himself.
Both collided at a full run, but the Viking held his ground, halting the
ogre with a wicked bash of his shield as he braced it with both arms. Then
he swung the hammer into the left knee of the ogre for all he was worth,
and the monster cried out in pain as it brought its own club down upon the
shoulder of its foe.
The Viking was jolted by the blow, but immediately lashed back with the hammer,
swinging it again at the ogres knee while driving the top of his shield
up into the bottom of the ogres jaw with a THUD.
Og Face-Cutter, chieftain of the ogres, was a bit smaller than the others,
but he was twice as smart as any of them (nearly as bright as a ten-year-old
spoiled child), and his one great possession was the glowing blade given
him by one of the Conclave some time in the past. The blade was long as a
human greatsword, and Og eagerly wielded it with one hand against anyone
failing to obey him with sufficient zeal. Thus, his kingdom had been whittled
down to five ogres from thirty over the past few years, so he rarely unsheathed
it anymore since the loss of any more of the tribe would leave him
to scoop crystals from the bat droppings instead of being
overseer.
So it was, that Og Face-Cutter gazed out with delight at the intruders before
him engaged in battle with some demons. This was precisely what he had been
waiting for: someone outside the tribe to practice on--who probably had treasure
to boot--and the skinny human female in the dark blue cloak was made to order!
Hed kill her, then take his choice of the best loot and meat when the
fight was over.
His tribe, meanwhile, had their own designs on the fresh meat, and pressed
forward for the kill. One of them, in his excitement, made it no further
than a masked warrior who drove a scimitar into him and killed him on the
spot. Then another of the tribe, right on his heels, grabbed the masked man
in a death hug.
Calling behind him for Orgoth, last of the ogres, to back him up, Og Face-Cutter
yanked the sword from its sheath and lumbered forward.
Another of the tribe managed to reach the woman first, and made a bad swing
with a long stalactite he used as a club. The blow didnt even come
close, and the female rewarded the miss by whipping her own sword against
the ogres right leg. Screaming, the beast went down like a tree to
the woodsmans axe, but then Og Face-Cutter reached her. At sight of
him, she was backing away from the fallen ogre as it howled in pain. Then
Ogs own sword whipped down toward her, but his own swing missed
too!
Quickly as he could, the ogre chieftain then began whipping the sword from
side to side in a wild series of X-like slashes, trying to hit the woman
as he wondered where Orgoth was.
It was like trying to hit a chicken with a tree trunk--each blow missed,
and no help was coming from Orgoth as the masked man a few feet away now
snapped the neck of the tribe mate on him with one hand and threw him across
the chamber!
Then the woman paused, and Og Face-Cutter made his final move, swinging his
sword down on her in a great slash with all the strength he had, knowing
that any connection would spell her doom from the sheer force of the
blow.
But the blade snapped in half as the woman intentionally struck it with her
own sword, and by the time the ogre chieftains blow came to the end
of its arc, all that remained in its hand was the broken hilt of what had
once been a mighty blade.
A moment later, he felt a burning in his belly and instinctively looked down
as the womans sword now raked across his throat. Then a trident struck
him in the chest and he was swallowed up in a web of electricity.
Screeching, the beast instinctively backed away, tripping over his fallen
tribe mate, and as things went dark for the last time, Og Face-Cutters
final thought was to wonder who these people were.
Doremi watched the fight with fascination. The armed ogre had come at Raven
swinging a two-handed sword for all he was worth. She dodged several of the
blows, then held her ground and paused, allowing the monster to take one
last swing. Then, as the ogre brought the sword down, she whipped up the
wakizashi and the two blades collided.
Instantly, the ogres glowing sword snapped in two, and instinctively
Doremi stiffened and hunched down, fearing that an explosion might occur,
for shed seen that happen before: One comrade of hers from earlier
times had chanced to find a sword everyone concluded was probably made by
a 20th-circle wizard, for it could cut through most anything. Because of
its power and durability, its wielder had made a common practice of using
it to shatter his opponents own swords before dispatching
them.
The strategy worked great until he chanced to wind up in a duel against someone
else with a 20th-circle sword who used the same strategy. Both blades shattered
as they struck each other, and the accompanying explosion nearly killed both
men!
That ended the fight, but they both paid with the loss of their
weapons.
Fortunately, there was no explosion as Raven broke the ogres blade,
then brought the wakizashi about in a lateral swipe from left to right against
the beasts tummy, laying it open. A moment later, she had arced her
hands around and made an upward slash about the beasts throat. Then,
from somewhere behind the Bard, Romulus took the opportunity to test out
his new trident, hurling it into the chest of the monster, and the trident
transformed itself into a shaft of lightning, exploding into the
beast.
The beast then took a dirt nap for good as the trident reappeared at the
Gladiators feet.
Raven made a quick scowl back toward Romulus--shed have been electrocuted
if shed made another strike into the beast as the Gladiators
trident had struck.
Romulus shrugged at her. Next time, Ill know, was his
response.
The incident was forgotten as Raven caught sight of Thor, still battling
his own ogre. It took no more time than that for her dagger to streak toward
it and lodge in its neck, then the Viking used his own great strength to
shove the beast into the limestone cavern wall and pummel its face with the
hammer. He bashed it with the shield once more, then made another blow with
the hammer against its head, and the ogre slumped forward, falling to the
ground with a crash as the Scandian stepped aside looking around for other
enemies. But none was left to his sight save for the one whose screams ended
as Raven thrust the wakizashi into its head.
The Vikings chest was heaving as he took in deep breaths and expunged
a combination of blood and spittle.
Good fight! Good fight! he was muttering.
Far above them, the Liche cared not for the battle, but instead was communicating
with one of the most powerful guardians of the Upper School--one he could
actually rely upon to bring some harm to these intruders.
You will unable to slay him directly, so use your powers to wear down
the one in the mask, he was hissing into the air as his words carried
downward on an Ethereal wind. Your continued existence is secondary
to your primary charge of wounding and weakening the one in the mask and
the warriors around him. Do so effectively, and I may relieve you of having
to sacrifice yourself to assure the death of one or more of them. Now go,
and do not fail me or you know what to expect!
Hundreds of feet below, the Liches words were heard and obeyed as a
shadowy figure began flying out of the forgotten area of the complex it normally
called home, toward its unsuspecting prey.
With Thors ogre hitting the ground, the battle was finally over and
the Fellowship grouped together, agitated but remaining alert.
Everyone elixir up, Raven ordered as her head darted back and
forth, satisfying herself that no new enemies were ready to join battle.
Lets stay healthy. Even if youre not scratched, stay
fresh.
Thor exhaled one last deep breath and reached down into his pouch for a crystal
vial. We dont have things like these potions in Scandia,
he spoke as he held it up before him. This will heal me up, you
say?
Thats right, Raven answered him as she also reached for
one. It will refresh your energy and heal your wounds. You wont
even have a scar--which is a good thing since it looks like you took a good
hit to your face, Thor.
The Viking paused as he brought the elixir to his lips. Any way for
it to work and let me keep the scars? he asked, looking around
to the women.
Cyllindrethifl cocked her head to the left and gave the Norseman a puzzled
look. Why would you wish to keep the scars? she
wondered.
Theyre tokens of battle, came Thors answer. No
one respects an unscarred warrior.
Im afraid youll just have to live with it, Thor,
Espidreen replied, shaking her head.
This brought a chuckle from Raven.
Espy--I can actually remember when we would just have to pour some
honey on a wound, bandage it up, and hope for the best since our Witch
didnt even have a healing spell, starting out.
As can I. Fortunately, those days are long behind us,
Raven.
Yeah, she said quietly as she shathed the katana and leaned down
to retrieve the bow from the floor. Long behind us.
Hearing the conversation about warriors with scars, Nightshadow now took
the opportunity to lift the left cuff of his black shirt up to reveal a thick,
discolored band running across the top of his wrist, clearly a scar from
some old battle.
Thor looked over and shook his head as he swallowed the elixir.
The Rogue paused a moment and then lifted his sleeve higher, until he displayed
a rather nasty purple scar upon his forearm almost three inches long,
appropriately surrounded by some discolored skin.
Thor glanced down, shrugged, and almost nodded--but not quite.
Somewhat frustrated, Nightshadow lowered his sleeve, looked around, and then
said, Well--what about a permanent limp caused by fighting a dragon?
Would Scandians respect that?!
Absolutely, the Viking confirmed. Wed sing songs
of such a warrior.
Then the Viking grinned. Know of one? he asked,
teasingly.
Satisfied, Nightshadow said nothing more.
Ill say this, Mac Tavish now spoke up as he approached,
--if thats the best the Liche can thrrow at
us....
Its not, Clansman, Espidreen assured him. This is
nothing.
Thats right, Raven added. But it does seem to be
the best he had guarding his back door.
Still, keepin it all in perspective, Fosmo spoke, that
woulda been a tough fight for a normal group of treasure hunters. Even
Arcanas group might have had a time of it with all them demons at once,
eh.
Romulus, whod been readjusting his armor after the battle, glanced
over to Raven. You think Arcanas group could have made it this
far? he wondered.
No, Espidreen answered for her. Their map led to the catacombs,
and they were only going to loot treasure from down there. Under no circumstances
would they have risked penetrating the Upper School, and especially this
complex!
At least, Raven spoke, that was the plan. I suppose well
never know exactly what happened to them, but they must have died in the
catacombs. They invited me, and I almost went with them on that expedition,
you know. But fortunately I was busy at the time. I warned them it was a
bad idea, but they didnt listen to me.
Ever notice, Raven now said, looking to Espidreen, how
people who dont listen to me have a bad habit of winding up
dead?
I have, Raven, answered the Witch with a nod.
Arcana should have listened to me. Shed be alive today if she
had.
Frankly, Im glad we had this fight, Cyllindrethifl now
spoke. I was starting to get nervous over the complete lack of any
real opposition.
Makes two of us, Raven agreed. This does give me pause
to think, though: Theres no question this is a back way into the Upper
School. If the best he had to guard it was a dozen demons and a few ogres,
that tells me he isnt really worried about anyone attacking him
here.
You mean he hasnt really planned for it? queried the
Elf.
Raven nodded. I dont even think he fears Throckmortons
attacking him here. If he did, hed have had this door guarded by a
whole lot more than these lackeys, she answered, jerking her
thumb back toward the fallen ogres. I think Espidreen may have hit
the nail on the head when she mentioned there are bounds that the two Liches
dont go beyond. Apparently, Nostradamus, at least, presumes Throckmorton
wont risk a direct attack against him up here. If he was worried
about that, I think our fight here would have been a lot tougher.
No, the Mistress of Freeport concluded, if Im reading
his strategy correctly, I dont think the Liche has... she searched
for the right words --dedicated himself to defending this place
to the full potential of his abilities. In other words, whatever guardians
there are up here, I suspect are not remotely as powerful or as dangerous
as they could be. Cyl--hes relying, not
reacting!
React, dont rely, the Elf muttered. Possibly,
Raven. But I wouldnt rely on that theory myself. We may just
have been lucky.
I think well find out soon enough as we penetrate other areas
of the tower, Cyl. But certainly we stay careful.
And stay on guard, Espidreen added.
Romulus dropped his empty vial on the ground and retrieved the trident. I
dont know much about demons. Would a Necromancer have been able to
banish these without us fighting them? he asked, looking
back to the Witches.
Probably not, Espidreen responded. Under normal circumstances,
a powerful Necromancer might be able to exorcise these and send them
back to Hell, but this close to the Pit...even with us technically outside
of the School, I doubt it. The power that conjured them is just too powerful
to overcome by that of a deity foreign to the School.
Is therre anythin that might prrotect us frrom em if we
find smorre? Like a crross orr somethin? the Highlander
now asked.
The Witch shook her head. Excepting a Necromancer using them to
exorcise some Nether creature, crosses only work on vampires like
pentagrams only work on werewolves. They are no direct protection against
demons.
Strange, too, Cyllindrethifl spoke up, that crosses have
such an effect on vampires. You wouldnt think that a mere symbol could
so terrorize them.
That is a mystery, Espidreen agreed.
Oh, I know why they work, Doremi now interjected from
a few feet distant.
All eyes turned toward her, and when she didnt immediately follow up,
Espidreen spoke. Well--are you going to make us beg
you?!
Oh...sorry.
Quickly, the Bard fumbled beneath the front of her blouse and came up with
a golden symbol hanging from a leather thong. It looked like a T
with an oval circle centered atop it.
See this cross-like symbol? Doremi continued. This is called
an ankh. Its a symbol from ancient Karnak.
Ive seen those before, Raven noted, peering to the
symbol.
Doremi nodded. Well, the Karnakis worshipped sun gods, among others,
and the ankh was symbolic of the sunrise, with the loop representing the
sun rising above the horizon which is represented by the crossbar. Now since
vampires are killed by sunlight, this symbol of the sunrise somehow affects
them, and causes them to recoil. Crosses arent exactly like ankhs,
but theyre close enough that they work like ankhs. At least, thats
my theory.
Raven looked over to Espidreen, who shrugged.
Well, I suppose that does make some degree of sense, the Witch
remarked.
Youve tried this against vampires? Cyllindrethifl asked
her.
Well, no, Doremi admitted. And I hope never to have to.
But I do think thats why crosses work against
vampires.
Good an answer as any, Raven concluded. Oh, and Cyl--good
fight against that demon.
The Elf nodded. React, dont rely, she
repeated.
Well--where to now? Thor asked as he lifted his hammer and indicated
the way forward. Continue down there, or do we go
back?
Raven weighed the options for a moment, looking back and forth.
Lets try a quick look ahead, she decided, and then
we can go back and take our chances with those blasted
stairways.
Too bad we couldnt have taken one of these ogres alive and questioned
him about the way up to the tower, Espidreen mused.
Oh--you know, that ogre over there by the hole is only sleeping. We
could wake him up and ask him, assuming someone speaks ogre,
Doremi announced.
Raven looked up. You mean weve got a sleeper?! she asked
excitedly.
Doremi nodded and pointed toward Orgoth.
Orgoth wasnt as smart as Og Face-Cutter, but he was smart enough
to know this was the time to run for it. Doremis spell-song had worn
off a few moments before, and he had opened one eye to see if it was safe,
since a discomforting silence met his ears rather than the sounds of
battle.
As he squinted and looked, the ogre could see lying about him the bodies
of the rest of the tribe while the Humans stood together a few yards away.
Orgoth was going to play dead and bluff it out, but then he saw a female
pointing toward him and the rest glancing his way.
They must have seen him open his eye!
In a move surprisingly nimble for a creature of his size, but born from a
knowledge that it was escape or die, Orgoth rolled to his knees, stood up--and
bolted back down the aperture hed come up from, his legs racing to
put distance between the he and the enemies.
Hey, somebody--
Raven didnt need to finish because the Highlander was charging after
the beast with the Knight right on his heels.
The Swarm
The two passed through the hole to emerge in a chamber that was another
conglomeration of finished stone and natural cavern, but with a decrepit
and abandoned look to it. Neither of the men had time to take a good look,
for the ogre was running downward upon a wide path leading off to the southeast,
a path where the putrid smell of guano wafted up toward them.
The Knight and the Highlander followed him down, twisting and turning, and
both hunters and hunted finally emerged into a large dark cavern. Here was
a rift in the ground, its limestone walls stretching down into the bowels
of the great mountain upon which the School was built. Two narrow paths ran
along the cavern to either side of the rift and the ogre took the one on
the right, which led forward and then bore left until it cut right once again,
vanishing out of view.
Mac Tavish, forced to slow down, stayed with the ogre, but Giles paused as
he entered the chamber and took a quick look about. Then he started down
the left path, since the two looked as if they might intersect at some
easternmost point, and perhaps the creature could be trapped between them
and attacked from both sides.
The rest of the Fellowship werent far behind, and were hurrying
after.
Also hurrying to the scene was what they did not see: a large black bat that
flew with them. It flapped its wings silently, flitting from shadow to shadow,
staying near the roof of the passage, as it made its way toward the sounds
of the pursuing party.
Focused as they were on following their comrades after the escaping ogre,
no one caught sight of the creature as it emerged into the cavern with them
and flew upward until it was beyond the range of their lockets of
light.
The Highlander and Knight had rushed beyond the groups sight, and now
faced with a choice of paths, the others halted for a moment, trying to decide
which way was best.
Then everyone heard it: a rustling, like the flapping of many wings coming
from within the blackness of the void, a noise that grew louder each moment--and
no sooner did they hear it, then they were smothered in bats!
Thousands upon thousands of bats!
An uncountable army that swarmed up from the rift like some blackened cloud
of smoke from a furnace, and all the spellcraft, sword prowess, or skill
in kara-te in the world couldnt save them from the horror everyone
now found themselves in.
For a brief moment, Raven held her composure and froze, knowing that bat
swarms wont actually make contact with you if you keep still, but instead
will fly around you.
These didnt.
They swarmed at the Fellowship like hail from the sky, wings buffeting, teeth
slashing and claws raking. Dozens were on each of the eight heroes, and no
one could do anything but thrash about, trying to ward them off.
Doremi instantly dropped, trying to pull her cloak around her head, and curled
up into a ball as the Gladiator tripped and went down on top of her, his
half-naked body an inviting feast to the devilish bats that fastened onto
his exposed limbs and began sucking the lifeblood from him.
The mighty Thor, equally helpless, swung his shield around, trying to swat
them away, but several fastened upon his face, forcing him to drop the hammer
and tear at them, crushing the small creatures as quickly as he could grasp
them.
It took no longer than the time it took for the first one to scratch her
face for Raven to realize these bats werent benign, but the Mistress
of Freeport was totally caught off guard and could do little more than wrap
her cloak about her while trying to move out of the way of the
swarm.
Espidreen was screaming in panic, ducking and swinging her mace in wild arcs
against the black mass upon her while Nightshadow, equally helpless, flailed
about with the scimitars, unsure what to do.
Only Cyllindrethifl was able to think fast enough to react. Pulling the cloak
about her with her left hand, her right reached into a pouch for a small
pumpkin. Managing to focus her concentration for a moment, she cast the pumpkin
to the ground at her feet as the bats swarmed about her, trying to
attack.
With a WHOOSH, a ball of orange fire exploded around them dropping a host
of the creatures to the ground, and for a moment the area was
cleared.
The Elf didnt pause. No sooner had the first fireball went off, then
she was going for another and cast down a second small pumpkin a few feet
away to kill more of the bats.
Another ball of fire exploded about the group and though everyones
skin was singed and blistered, the space was momentarily cleared about the
party.
That bought the other Witches just enough time to react.
Espidreen managed regain her composure, dropping the mace as she intoned
an energy blast spell in record time. A ball of orange plasma appeared
in her palm and she threw it against the wall before them. Immediately, an
explosion rang out through the cavern as the plasma exploded into a ball
of energy, incinerating most of the rest of the bats that had come up into
the cavern while again catching half the group in its blast.
Now Raven had her own opportunity to attack with a
witchfire spell, bringing her hands together with her palms spread
outward, and a stream of red flame shot out in an arc, consuming every bat
it came into contact with.
It took but a moment to empty the cavern above everyone with what remained
of the first wave of bats, and then she directed the fan of red plasma flame
down into the rift, a roof of flame to impede the onslaught that continued
to seek its way up and out of the chasm.
Quickly, Cyllindrethifl moved up and cast in her own energy blast.
The ball of plasma sailed downward until it hit the cavern floor somewhere
below and a massive explosion, far stronger than she expected, went off as
the guano and assorted minerals down there ignited, spewing up a host of
charred bats in the rush of flame like a volcanic eruption.
Yet that was only the first blast, for even as it went off, the sound of
other blasts came to their ears as some huge area beneath them erupted into
flame from the initial spell, sending up a wall of fire running along the
length of rift.
Those of the Fellowship near the rift were almost roasted by the flames,
but as quickly as the fire erupted, it settled back down, leaving behind
the acrid smell of burnt bats and smoking flesh.
Then all was quiet, and everyone had pause to take a breath. Espidreen had
scratches upon her face and hands. Thor had a variety of bleeding bites upon
his face. Raven had a long cut running down her cheek. Fosmo, beyond a dozen
bat bites, had a bruised lip from where hed struck himself while trying
to rebuff the attacks.
All this was in addition to their red, blistered skin from the variety of
spells theyd thrown.
Members of a half-dead party thus looked back and forth at each other and,
as if on cue, began reaching in pouches for elixirs.
This is disgusting, Raven spoke, wiping some blood off her face
with a gloved hand. A bevy of bats caused us to do more harm to ourselves
than a dozen demons from Hell! This is why, Cyl and Espy, I say never to
underestimate the power of a weaker opponent with a superior plan, or plain
dumb luck on their side!
React, dont rely, Cyllindrethifl muttered once
again.
Those were not normal bats, Raven, Espidreen spoke as she unstopped
an elixir and drained it. Normal bats wont attack people,
she added, throwing the empty vial down the rift.
Rabid bats do, grunted the crimson gladiator, who was almost
drenched in his own blood. Or so I've heard.
You--think we might get rabies? Doremi nervously asked as she
regained her feet and double-checked to make certain her lute was all right,
and that she hadnt taken any bad bites.
Wont the elixirs-- Thor began.
They restore vigor and heal damage, not diseases, Cyllindrethifl
broke in. It takes a separate spell for that.
Fosmo, wiping his own flesh clean of blood with his sleeve, now spoke. How
about casting some of those spells, ladies? Might be a good precaution,
eh.
Waste seven, fourth rank spells?! Raven exclaimed. Forget
it, Fosmo. Well take our chances.
Thors head turned round to give her a Lets think about
that look.
People, rabies takes weeks to kick in, Raven reasoned.
Tomorrow, after were done here and have our spells back, well
cast all the disease-curing spells you want. Even if all of us have rabies,
we wouldnt feel it for weeks.
But what if these are some kind of evil, mutated, monster bats, whose
rabies affects you in hours instead of weeks? Doremi wondered, giving
in to her natural fears.
What if theyre vampiric bats that turn us into vampires?! What
if theyre lycanthropic bats that turn us into were-vampires at the
next full moon?! What if?! What if?!
You know, she could be right, Raven, Romulus spoke, backing
up the Bard.
The Mistress of Freeport let out an irritated breath. As soon as someone
starts feeling sick, then well cast them! Can you all hold off til
then instead of having the Witches use up all their fourth rank spells on
nothing more than speculation?! What if we run into some mummies, and your
arm starts rotting off? Youll wish they had those spells then,
wont you?!
Raven, Espidreen spoke, it might be wise, just for
cautions sake, to have one of us cast it on ourselves--just in case.
That way, if somehow a disease off these creatures starts to hit us all at
once, that person will be able to heal the others.
Raven, still annoyed, gave in. Fine. Cyl, go ahead and cast it on
yourself.
Espidreens eyes widened at her mistress. Well...why should
she be the one to do that? I came up with the
idea!
Ravens eyes narrowed, and she glowered at the Witch. How about,
because she has twice the spells you do, and can afford to waste one better
than you can? Is that a good enough answer for you,
Espidreen?!
Espidreen paused a moment. I dont think thats very fair,
the Witch then muttered under her breath as she turned away to retrieve the
mace off the ground, clearly unhappy. It was my
idea.
The Mistress of Freeport let out a second irritated breath. Cyl,
she spoke with gritted teeth, cast it on Espidreen so she can stay
focused the rest of the night. We wouldnt want her falling prey to
some evil, mutated monster bat disease that affects you in mere hours instead
of weeks, now would we?!
The Elf hesitated a moment. Raven, I do think it would be most sensible
to cast it on myself, she opined. As you point out, I do have
twice the spells, and that way, I can be certain of handling the entire
par--
Ravens scowl brought the sentence to a quick end, and the Druid-Witch
reached into her belt pouch for some herbs.
But now Espidreen was offended.
Ill not be talked to like some child--she can keep her spell!
I wont let her touch me!
Raven now let out a third exasperated breath and shut her eyes in
frustration.
A few yards away, Thor leaned over to Nightshadow.
Still wonder why I left Sif home? he muttered quietly, nodding
toward the women. This is what happens when you bring women
along!
He may have said it under his breath, but the females in the party still
heard it clearly enough, and were appropriately offended, forgetting their
own conflicts to give the Scandian some nasty looks.
The Mistress of Freeport started to turn and give him a piece of her mind,
but then she regained control and simply paused and threw her hands up over
the whole thing.
The group hadnt even entered the branch taken by Mac Tavish and Giles
before the bat had been summoning the swarm from deep below. Then, lost as
it was in the swarm of its fellows that met the party as they emerged, the
creature continued after the pair who had separated from the rest, hoping
to slay them out of sight of the others.
Mac Tavish and Giles, meanwhile, pursued Orgoth along both sides of the rift,
but it was the Highlander who caught up to him, forcing the monster to
fight.
The bat, meanwhile, had flown up to the top of the cavern and, hidden in
shadow, transformed itself. Where there had been a bat before, now a shadow
within the shadows silently crawled along the roof and sides of the cavern
like some sort of gecko stalking its prey.
Ahead and below, the Highlander was thrusting and slashing at the ogre who
was trying--unsuccessfully--to get in a good pummel against the wiry warrior
with its fists.
Unseen, a black finger then pointed at the fighter, and as he swung it, the
claymore flew from Mac Tavishs grasp, falling down the rift.
The Highlander nearly froze in shock, he was so surprised at losing the blade,
and Orgoth struck him full in the face, flinging him back and dropping him
to the ground. The beast wasted no time following up and stepped forward,
trying to smash the fallen Highlander.
Mac Tavish rolled to his side and the blow missed, striking the floor of
the path. Then, as the ogre growled and leaned back to strike once more,
the Highlander was scrambling back like a crab, trying to get
away.
Orgoth missed again but kept lumbering forward, determined to slay his attacker.
Mac Tavish, meanwhile, had managed to get to his feet and was trying to draw
the dirk from his boot since his axe had been knocked loose and left behind
during the struggle.
A few yards away, Giles could do nothing but watch. Then the thought came
to him, Jump across the pit and save him. You can reach the other side.
Its not too far!
Without pausing to think, the Knight obligingly stepped to the edge of the
rift and hunched down, preparing to leap the twenty-foot chasm. At nearly
the last moment, he regained his senses and shook his head, realizing he
must be mad--he could never jump that far!
Highlander! he then shouted out as he recovered, tossing his
own sword toward the unarmed warrior.
Mac Tavish caught the move from the corner of his eye and jumped up, hands
clutching for the enchanted blade. In one lucky move, he caught the hilt
with his left hand, then brought his right onto the hilt as well while falling
back down and whipping the blade down and across the chest of the
ogre.
No sooner had that strike ended, then he was whipping it up and to the left,
slashing open the beasts body.
The first blow caught the monster unprepared and interrupted its own attack
as Orgoth staggered backward to take the second slash. The beast cried out
in pain, and then as that slash reached its zenith, the red-headed human
was flipping his hands to the left and back over his left shoulder--only
to then plunge the blade into the ogres chest!
It was then that an explosion sounded from somewhere down the pit, but Orgoth
saw only the flame that he was being pitched down toward as the Highlander
withdrew the blade by kicking him over the side of the path into the chasm
below.
The beast now dead, Mac Tavish let out a breath and looked back to Giles,
managing a nod in thanks for his help, though it could not but irk him to
accept aid from a Knight of all people!
Two spells later, the rest of the group were preparing to split up down the
paths when the pair returned, saving them the trouble. Raven, catching sight
of the Highlander carrying the Knights sword and his own axe, was surprised
and stiffened up, looking as if she wanted to know what was happening. Neither
of them explained, however, and Mac Tavish handed the blade over with a grunted
Thanks.
The Highlander then caught sight of Ravens surprise. Lost m
best claymorre overr the side, n he loaned me his, he explained.
What was wi that firre, by the way? Nearrly rroasted us, y
know!
We were attacked by bats, and had to burn them up, Doremi answered
him.
The Highlander gazed back toward the rift. Don sppose
therres any way we can go get the claymorre, eh?
Fosmo grimaced, suspecting a cavern-climb was coming.
I can take care of that, Espidreen spoke up, removing her pack.
She quickly rummaged inside and came up with two skeletal hands that she
placed in her palms. Concentrating, the Witch intoned her spell.
Hands in life, taken by knife, arise to my call, be servant in
all.
She withdrew her hands and the bony hands remained floating in the air,
apparently waiting to do as she willed.
If youll show me where you lost the sword, Ill send these
down to fetch it, the Witch spoke.
The Highlander pointed back the way hed come and the two set off down
that way as Raven paused and turned to Cyllindrethifl while Doremi took the
opportunity to update her maps.
Cyl, Raven called.
The Druid glanced over.
Pen and paper--I want to let Morgaine, back in Freeport, know how
were doing.
She nodded and began fumbling around in a large belt pouch for a pen and
paper that she handed over to her mistress. Then she removed a small mahogany
box and waited as Raven hastily wrote out her message.
Raven finished, folded the letter, and Cyllindrethifl slid open the box so
the note could be placed within. She then slid the top closed, and concentrated.
There was a WHOOSH from inside, and then smoke wafted up from the box as
the note vanished.
Message box, huh? Doremi remarked as she sketched out
the path theyd taken on her map. Ive never seen one before,
but thats got to be one of the most handy magic items ever
made.
We agree, Raven answered. Unfortunately, we only have two,
of which Cyls, here, is one. The other is in the Guild offices in Torrence.
Wish we had more.
We may find another before were done tonight, Raven, the
Elf pointed out. The First School must have one or more within
its confines.
Well, well put it to good use if we do get our hands on
it, Ill promise you that! Raven spoke as she retrieved her
bow.
Not every invader in the Upper School was nervous and apprehensive. A few
hundred yards away, the Vikings were eagerly rushing through a
portal, emerging into the hold of the
Black Widow. Quick as they entered, the crew were shushing them,
trying to keep down the noise of their exhilaration, but it was a hard
task--these warriors had been waiting months for this, and now the time for
battle was nearing!
After the last of the Vikings had entered, a hooded figure emerged behind
them, hands clasped behind her back.
It was Venivica.
The Witch looked about, surveying the hold and the anxious Vikings. Then,
with a wave of her hand, she indicated the portal to her
right.
Rolf, she spoke, this stone panel goes to the north, the
other to the south. Set them up inside the stairways and stand guard out
of view of anyone in the Upper School who may look toward the stairs. When
the other two Witches arrive, follow their orders, and youll take up
positions at the head of the stairs.
The Viking nodded his understanding and looked
back to his men. We need those two walls lifted up on deck and then
taken with us, he said in Norse to his men as he indicated two
of the three permanent teleportals. Some of you get on deck
and let down some ropes to haul them up.
Several of the strongest Vikings answered the
call and mounted the ladder up to the main deck as others started to maneuver
the ten-foot square panels beneath the open hatch. After lines were secured
to the frames, the Vikings began hefting the first teleportal up and
then muscled it onto the deck with them. The
Widows regular crew now took over, sliding it over toward
the side of the ship in preparation for lowering it to the floor of the
stables.
Jon, Rolf spoke once more to
one of the Norse as he clapped his hand upon the mans shoulder,
see to your side. Take the wall part way down the stairs
and hide there with it. You and your men will join us after one of their
Witches comes through with the Dwarves.
Jon nodded and turned away, climbing up to the
deck as three other Vikings moved the starboard teleportal into place
beneath the hatch, awaiting its turn to be lifted on
deck.
Very good, Rolf, Venivica went on.
Now you may not see me again until youre finished here. Until
then, do as the Witches bid you, and may your gods grant you good fortune
and spoil this night.
Alu! Rolf spoke, raising his
sword to her.
Bonam fortunam! the Witch responded
with a nod. Then she turned about to step through the second portal,
vanishing from their view.
Venivica emerged into a vast cavern somewhere
deep beneath the surface of Jewel and quickly took a look around to orient
herself. A great rumbling sound pervaded the place, and the heat was almost
as hard to bear as the smell of sulfur that nearly choked her. The whole
area was lit by the flames of lava running below her, a great underground
river of molten rock that bathed the walls above it in an eerie orange
glow.
She was not alone, for dozens of Dwarves, armed
with everything from swords and axes, to copies of Ravens repeating
crossbows, were grouped around the thick slab of blue stone erected at the
edge of the precipice from which she had emerged.
Everything is going according to plan,
the Witch spoke to the assemblage as she looked them over. Theyve
been in the tower for an hour now, and havent met any resistance from
the Liches.
That was as far as she got as a spontaneous cheer
erupted from the ranks of the Dwarves.
Give them another three-quarters of an hour
or so to get the portals situated, then come on through, she
continued.
Another cheer rose up from the anxious warriors
and Venivica now turned to one of her cohorts, a younger, black-haired woman,
dressed like herself.
You have your scrolls ready, Varinia?
she asked.
The woman lifted a scroll book in response,
nodding.
Excellent. Whats there should be
sufficient to provide you with at least some defensive magic against
a large group of attackers. As for the teleportal spells, Espidreen
thinks that once Nostradamus is dead, the spells preventing the opening of
teleportals within the Upper School will be canceled. You can then
portal the Dwarves back to Orlon. Assuming that does not work, make
for the Black Widow.
How will we know the right time to go?
the younger Witch asked.
They plan on sending you word through a
message box. When you get it, immediately try to open a
teleportal because the ship will be leaving to pick them up
at the tower. If the portal does not open, do as I said and make for
the ship. Theyll spot you coming and wait for you to board before
continuing on to the tower. There is, however, always the chance that
Cyllindrethifl may somehow die or lose the
box, which means they wont be able to contact you. If that
happens, youre on your own. Use your best judgment, but stay as long
as possible.
Venivica now redirected her attention to the Dwarves.
Youre certain this slab of stone will not melt down in lava?
she queried, running her gloved hand along the side of the
monolith.
One of the Dwarves nodded. This is the strongest
marble in Naz-Al. It would take the breath of a dragon to melt
it.
Satisfied with the answer, she stepped away from
the edge of the chasm. Excellent. I will take my leave of you now.
Good luck to all of you.
The Dwarves likewise wished her well as she removed
a scroll from a pouch hanging at her side and unrolled
it.
Return, she then spoke, vanishing
from their sight.
So, we ready to move
on?
It was Thor who spoke, slipping the loop of the
big hammer over his glove, prepared once more for battle.
Since they were again healed up, the group once more fell into marching order
at his words, and the Viking began leading the way back, followed by Nightshadow
and the others.
Still unnoticed, the shadow trailed behind, concentrating and summoning its
next attack on the group.
It took only a few moments to leave the bat cavern and re-enter the larger
chamber theyd briefly traversed. As theyd noted, this area had
a somewhat cluttered look to it, for the floor was covered with a conglomeration
of dirt, guano, and silt, interspersed with crumbling bits of masonry or
fallen pillars. Eastward, a set of small stone buildings, stacked in three
levels atop each other and reached by steep stone stairways, had been cut
from the walls of the cavern. None had doors, though some had tattered rags
or old blankets as substitutes.
They chose not to explore these, presuming them to be quarters of the ogres.
Instead, they fixed their attention on a hall of finished stone running
north.
It seemed a bit more intact, with its limestone floor and walls polished
and whitened, though cracks and holes showed here and there along its length
as the group passed through. Quickly enough, the hall came to its end and
the Fellowship found themselves at the bottom of a circular shaft thirty
feet wide. Here, the roof towered forty or fifty feet above, barely visible
in the light from their lockets. To reach it, they would have to ascend a
narrow staircase that spiraled its way up the sides of the shaft until it
reached a landing far above.
That, my friends, Raven spoke with a satisfied smile as she peered
upward into the shadows, leads up to the fourth
level!
The others nodded in satisfaction and were about to mount the stairs, but
then they heard it: The noise came to everyones ears from what seemed
all directions, but particularly from the hall theyd just came in from.
It was cacophony of squeaks from many small creatures running swiftly--and
getting closer each moment!
Up those stairs! Giles cried out.
He may not have been the leader of the group, but no one had to think twice
as Nightshadow rushed to the steps, followed by Thor and the others, single
file, as they sought to put distance between themselves and whatever was
coming.
The stairs were so steep and narrow they were hardly different from climbing
a ladder, and one slip could mean a fall over the side. Thus, the group moved
slowly, like some great snake, winding its way up toward safety as whatever
behind them got closer.
Then they appeared, swarming onto the floor of the chamber.
Rats!
An entire army of rats, churning in toward them like a great black wave washing
against a pier. They poured in from both the hallway and from cracks in the
masonry on the sides of the shaft, then began piling up atop each other at
the foot of the stairs making a mound that others climbed upon to reach the
stairs behind the party. A few even jumped up toward the heroes, and one
actually made it onto Romulus shoulder, biting and holding on only
to be crushed as the Gladiator instinctively drove his back against the
wall.
At the sight of them, Espidreen panicked and froze only ten feet above the
undulating mass of rats, her eyes locked upon the horrid
creatures.
Move, Witch! Fosmo screamed, his way blocked by her.
That brought Espidreen out of it and, her breast heaving in panicked breaths,
she began scrambling up after the others, pushing with her feet while pulling
with her hands to climb all the more quickly.
And so up they rushed, with safety seemingly a few yards away.
Then Nightshadow activated the trap.
As soon as his foot touched the third step from the top, it flipped downward,
throwing him off balance and causing him to fall over the side with a loud
cry.
He wasnt alone.
The moment the step folded away, the other steps below it snapped out from
under the feet of the party, withdrawing into the wall.
Ten heroes thus found themselves falling into the writhing mass of rats anywhere
from twenty to forty feet beneath them.
Nightshadow would have been killed, but the Mind Sapphire healed his
broken neck the moment it happened. Thor, limbs flailing helplessly as he
dropped, broke both his legs the moment his three hundred-and-fifty-pound
body made impact with the ground. Raven, meanwhile, managed to come out
relatively unscathed, tucking in and then rolling as she hit bottom. Even
so, she made hard contact with the side of the chamber, stunning herself
for a moment as the rats moved in and covered her.
Doremi couldnt imagine anything much worse than falling into a pit
of rats, for even being bitten in two by a snap dragon was preferable! But,
helpless to prevent it, fall she did.
The Bard nearly died of a heart attack on the way down, but she didnt
quite make it, and remained conscious enough to shatter both wrists and crush
several rats as her fall came to an end.
Then they were upon her!
Espidreen screamed and kept screaming as she dropped, relatively unhurt,
into the swarm below which actually broke the fall of she and those behind
her, though the moment they hit the ground they were being bitten by the
enraged vermin.
Only Cyllindrethifl came through unscathed, falling twenty feet and landing
on her feet like a cat.
Wasting not so much as a moment, she instantly came erect and spread forth
her hands, calling upon her powers as a Druid.
In the name of Dellendryll, begone! she shouted.
For a moment, it seemed to work, for at her words a hole formed about where
she was as the rats pulled back, leaving her alone.
But that wasnt what shed hoped for: Shed expected them
all to retreat. The fact they didnt, showed that her abilities were
obviously weakened here in the School.
The others, meanwhile, were still being ravaged by the vicious rats, and
the Druid knew she was left with no choice.
Quickly, she reached into a fold of her cloak for two pieces of magnetized
iron wrapped in a copper wire.
From earth to the sky, lightning arise! she
spoke.
The iron and copper vanished from her hand and, from her feet on back down
into the hall, blue tendrils of electricity began to rain upward, frying
hosts of rats within the area it affected.
No sooner had she done that then, before the rest could turn on her, she
intoned an energy blast.
The moment the ball of plasma appeared in her hand, she threw it against
the other side of the chamber and tried to duck as it exploded with a loud
WHOOSH and a burst of energy.
Everyone in the shaft took the blast and Cyllindrethifl was powerful enough
that her spell packed a strong punch! What was left of the rats was instantly
incinerated, and between the spell, the fall, and the rat bites themselves,
the party itself was nearly killed, with some left lying at the point of
death.
Only Cyllindrethifl herself, along with Raven and Nightshadow, seemed to
come through in one piece. Rats now gone, the Druid stayed on guard, scanning
up to the landing for any new enemies as Nightshadow and Raven scrambled
to the others to feed them elixirs. Nightshadow quickly found Doremi and
knelt down, searching through her pouch for an elixir as the half-dead Bard
lay quivering in shock. Then he found it, breaking off the top of the vial
and forcing the contents down her throat.
Thor managed to remain conscious and downed his own elixir, shakily rising
to his feet as the strength returned to his body.
Wotans curse on this place, he grunted in disgust. Rats
and bats! Rats and bats! What is it with this accursed
tower?!
Doremi couldnt even feel the pain of her broken wrists from the pain
the rest of her was in, but quickly the strength began returning to her limbs
as the pain in her wrists turned to numbness and then finally vanished. Even
so, she moaned softly, curled up in Nightshadows arms, having no desire
to go any further.
The groans of others in the group showed they were still alive, though Espidreen
lay prostrate and unconscious. Cyllindrethifl moved over to her, casting
a healing spell as she drew near, and the Witch awoke sufficiently to receive
an elixir from Raven.
For her, it had been close.
It thus took but a few minutes for the broken limbs and other injuries to
be a thing of the past--though the memory of this place would surely live
on!
Seven cure disease spells later, they sent Fosmo up to check the platform
and the door set into it. The burglar easily shimmied up the sides of the
shaft, using the protruding stubs of the vanished stairs as footholds. Then
he was at the top, pulling himself onto the platform.
Very carefully,
he tested each step on the platform, making certain it wasnt trapped
as well, then he went to work on the iron door before him, running his hands
along the sill and checking the crack with a piece of steel. He found no
traps, opened it for a quick look, then anchored a rope to the handle of
the door that he let down to the others below.
As they were outside the actual tower complex, Nightshadow shifted to the
Ethers and simply flew up to the landing, re-materializing there to help
the Cutpurse haul Thor up first as Raven took the opportunity to ascend as
Fosmo had done. In this manner the others climbed, hopefully ready to face
whatever monsters from the Liches arsenal of beasts that guarded
this new area.
Fortunate I had these cat slippers, Raven, Cyllindrethifl
remarked as she stood near the front of the platform, twisting her left foot
to show one of the furry set of slippers she wore. Very handy in a
situation like this.
Raven looked down to the Druids feet, then back up. Im
just glad you got us out of this, Cyl, she answered. That was
cutting it too close!
The Elf lowered her voice and leaned forward, eyes shifting back and forth
in nervousness. You should know that there is a power at work here
greater than mine, Raven. I should have been able to banish those
rats, but I could barely affect them.
Doremi and Espidreen, standing nearby, both heard the comment and looked
over to the Druid. Romulus, too, had heard it, and likewise directed his
gaze toward her in the event she would speak further.
You think something was controlling those rats, rather than them just
attacking intruders? Raven quietly asked in response.
The Elf nodded slowly. Someone or some thing summoned them and
sent them after us, Im sure!
Ravens eyes narrowed, and she whispered even lower. Nostradamus?
One of the Conclave?
Cant be, Espidreen now spoke up. They wouldnt
toy with us by using rats and bats.
I dont know Id call it toying, spoke
the Gladiator. Most of us nearly died here a few moments
ago.
Yeah, Raven spoke, looking to him, but not because of the
rats, but because of the power of our own spells. Same with the bats. Really,
such creatures are only a nuisance--we just happened to be forced into hurting
ourselves with our own spells to be rid of their nuisance.
Still, its an effective tactic, Raven, Romulus maintained,
looking down to the smoking mass of rats below, --let us kill
ourselves off!
Couldnt we have tripped some kind of trap that brought them on
us like the demons? Doremi speculated, wringing her hands
nervously.
Cyllindrethifl looked to the Bard and shook her head. No conjuration
spell can summon so many creatures. If anything, it was some sort of spell
or ability exercising control over the two colonies.
It may just be the power of this place, Cyllindrethifl, Espidreen
spoke. A Necromancer couldnt exorcise undead here effectively,
and perhaps Druidic abilities are likewise weakened.
The Druid said nothing in response. Obviously, she was
unconvinced.
What about an evil Druid or an undead Druid? Raven
speculated.
There is no such thing as an evil Druid or an undead Druid,
Raven! came the Elfs response, her ears pointing stiffly
upward.
Espidreen looked back to her, eyes narrowing. Im not certain
I believe that, Cyllindrethifl.
At her comment, Raven glanced to the Witch and then back to the Druid.
Cyl, Ive known a Druid or two in my time I had doubts about
myself, she noted.
Well--then you simply misunderstood them, Raven. Evil is simply not
the way of Druids. One cannot be evil and have a true love for nature! Besides,
of all things in the world, the undead are the very antithesis of what Druids
believe in. No Druid would ever be found here, helping guard this place!
the Elf assured them.
Well, could some spell-trap do it, Cyl? Raven now asked. Take
control over creatures already here, and send them after anything in
sight?
Cyllindrethifl shrugged and looked to Espidreen.
Im not specifically aware of any spell-traps like that, Raven,
but we are dealing with Sorcerers, the Witch spoke after considering
the question. Were not certain what all they can do, but if it
is possible for such a spell-trap to be created, this School would
be the place for it.
The Gladiator squinted and reflexively tightened his grip on the handle of
his gladius.
If there was some wizard controlling those rats, he could have
finished off most of us just now, Romulus spoke up. One more
energy blast would have killed off everyone but Nightshadow. The fact
we didnt get hit with anything else tells me these rats and bats
werent under anyones direct control--unless the Liche knows
were here and is just playing with us...toying with us like some cat
with a rag doll.
Espidreen shook her head. No. I dont think so.
Romulus frowned, and let out a breath. I know youre sure of that,
but if this Liche is as arrogant as you say, wouldnt it be in his character
to show contempt for his enemies, and toy with them?
It would, the Witch reluctantly agreed. But only against
a group he had absolute contempt for, and no fear of. Hes not stupid
enough to play games against a group this powerful. Hed send the Conclave
and everything hes got in the Lower School against us, not pick at
us with some rats! No, whatever this is, its not from Nostradamus directly.
It simply cant be...unless he knows were here and has some strategy
to slay us all at his whim with no possibility of failure. But as Raven
said--what could he do against Nightshadow? What possible strategy could
the Liche have that would let him be so arrogant that he could simply toy
with us? And why wouldnt he have used it long before
now?
Nightshadow, Nightshadow, Doremi was thinking. Always, it comes
back to Nightshadow. He cant stop Nightshadow so were
safe. Weve got Nightshadow with us, so what can he
do?
We stand or fall with Nightshadow. But what if he knows some way? Some
strategy we havent thought of? Some spell that will somehow neutralize
him? What if youre wrong, Raven? What if there is a way to stop
Nightshadow?
We have to go with whats most logical, Raven concluded
after weighing the possibilities. It was probably some sort of trap.
Once were back in the tower itself, I think well be rid of these
sorts of things. The Liche wouldnt have rats and bats running around
his tower--at least, I dont think he would.
Yes, Cyllindrethifl agreed. The tower, strangely enough,
seems safer than out here in back of it.
That could be, Raven speculated as she looked toward the iron
door, because theres something important out back here, like
a secret way up to the towers upper levels or Nostradamus own
Throne room. We could be exactly where we want to be. Meantime, lets
just keep our eyes open.
Is there any way we can send Fosmo ahead of where we walk, checking
for traps on the floor? Doremi suggested.
From a few feet away, the Cutpurse looked their way as he munched on a piece
of jerky.
Eh? Me hear me name bein spoke? he asked.
Without turning to face him, Raven waved Fosmo off with the back of her
hand.
You know how much time it takes to walk that way? she answered
Doremi. Yeah, its safest, but we simply dont have the time
to be that careful. Well just have to keep our eyes open, and keep
the stallions in the lead with everyone else spaced out.
Ive seen traps go off ten feet behind the guy who stepped on
it, the Bard noted.
I have too, Raven admitted. But what choice do we have?
Oh, Cyl, the Mistress of Freeport now spoke, --how long we been
in here? You keeping track with your glass?
The Elf looked over and reached down to tip up her hourglass for a quick
peek. A look of puzzlement passed her face, and she replied, A little
over a half an hour, Raven, as she released the hourglass and looked
up.
What?! Half an hour? Its been longer than that, hasnt
it?
Its been a good hour anyway, Romulus noted.
The Elf shrugged. Not according to the glass.
You sure its accurate? Raven asked.
Its never not been accurate.
Could it have turned in that fight, and you didnt notice?
I dont think so, Raven.
Doremi now spoke up. This place can do that to you, Raven. You think
youve been working for two or three hours, and when you take a break
and glance out the window, the sun shows youve only been working for
an hour or so.
My sense of time is pretty good, and Id swear weve been
in here close to an hour-and-a-half, Raven mumbled to
herself.
By now, Nightshadow had hauled up Giles, and as soon as the task was accomplished
the rope was untied, recoiled, and returned to the Cutpurses
pack.
We all ready, Raven? Thor called out from the doorway.
Yeah, were ready, she spoke in response as the knot of
heroes in the conversation broke up to take their typical places in the order
of march.
Marcus Flavius Valerius, Tribune of the 27th Legion, paced nervously at the
stern of his galley. He hated Sorcery as any good soldier would, and the
night had long fallen with still no sign of anyones passing through
the large square wall of wood taking up precious space on his
deck.
As if looking for an answer he knew wouldnt be coming, he glanced back
to the young, red-haired Avalonian Witch who remained silent and unconcerned
as she sat upon a cushion beneath a canopy at the stern. The grizzled old
warrior didnt like any of this--his entire fleet was being made to
sit still off the coast of Hocwrath for reasons he didnt know, and
the fact hed been ordered by the Praefect of Draconium--a man he
wasnt even directly under the command of--not to question the Witch
about the order shed given to wait for further instructions once he
neared Serpenalik made him even more uneasy. That the Witch had in her possession
a letter presumably explaining the entire situation which hed been
forbidden to receive until someone used Sorcery to come through the wooden
wall and appear on his ship to give her leave to hand it over, made him doubly
irritated. His own officers were themselves on edge, and rumors had been
spread for weeks by the Legionnaires, above and below decks, speculating
on what this all meant.
It was he pondered these things that the back of the wall now began to glow.
Marcus stiffened--perhaps now he would get his answers.
A moment later, two women stepped out of the swirling pattern of light onto
the deck.
More Witches, he thought to himself.
One certainly looked the part: Robed, with a hooded black cloak fringing
curled blonde hair, dragging a large sack. The much younger one looked more
like a pirate than a Witch. Yet it was she who did the talking.
Who is in charge? she asked.
Valerius stepped forward, placing his hands upon his hips.
I am Marcus Valerius, he answered.
Do you know who I am?
The woman did look vaguely familiar. The pair were obviously from Freeport,
and had something to do with the Guild.
Then he remembered. Youre the one who runs the Guild offices
in Libertasium...Morgan--is that your name?
Morgaine, she corrected. Ronessa has a letter for
you.
Morgaine beckoned to the red-haired Avalonian who had now risen from her
seat. She then produced a sealed scroll from her own cloak that she handed
to the Krellan officer.
Marcus broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. Quickly reading it, he looked
up to Morgaine.
This says only that Draconium is aware of your mission, and that you
have orders for me. I dont understand. What, precisely, are you doing
on my ship, and why are we stopped here? Were the relief force for
Arwinium--are you planning on using the Imperial Fleet to guard some
convoy?
You are no longer sailing to Arwinium, answered Morgaine. You
are to prepare your men for war, take your fleet straight into Serpenalik,
and attack one of the Schools of Sorcery as the woman next to me directs
you.
Voices exploded at once from those on deck.
Silence!
At the Tribunes shout, the voices on deck faded away until they left
only the noise of the waves lightly slapping against the wooden hull of the
vessel.
You presume to order me to attack the nation wed most like to
avoid war with?! On whose authority--Drusis?! You must be mad! Only
the Senate have the authority to order an attack against
Hocwrath!
It was time to play the trump card. From a fold of her own cloak, Morgaine
held up an ornate black wand capped with a golden eagle. Murmurs instantly
went up amongst the crew--none had ever seen one, but they knew precisely
what it was.
One of Drusis two subordinate Tribunes behind him whispered, A
Senatorial wand! to his comrade.
You recognize this wand of your sacred black ivory? she asked.
Then Morgaine, in the manner of the Krellans, tipped the wand toward
Marcus.
In the name of Raven TenTolliver, First Citizen of the Krellan Republic,
I command you to attack Serpenalik as directed.
Marcus held his hand up to silence the men.
Have the Senate conferred a Praetorship or Consulship on her?
he demanded.
Of course not--those would be subordinate positions to that of First
Citizen.
Then by what right does she presume to order the Twenty-Seventh Legion
into battle? Her rank as First Citizen may give her the right to represent
the Senate and make trade treaties, but she has no authority to command the
armies of the Republic! Only a Praetor or a Consul, as appointed by the Senate,
may enact war.
Venivica now spoke.
Ego Vestale. Inquam iussu Decretum Baltarus
permitto.
The Tribune seemed only mildly impressed with her words, and Morgaine now
locked her eyes with his.
This wand is the delegated authority of the Imperial Senate,
Morgaine continued. It gives her full authority to direct Krellan forces
she may have need of in time of emergency for the good of the Republic, or
the Guild--and this is an emergency!
Marcus cast the scroll to the deck.
Ridiculous! Obviously, this scheme was cooked up by your mistress and
Drusis. The Senate clearly know nothing of it. I dont care if
Drusis is the Chief Legate of the Praetorian Guard, and Praefect of
Draconium! I am under the command of Praefect Aristides of Atlantium, not
Drusis of Draconium. Go back to your mistress and tell her the Senate will
hear of this outlandish incursion on its authority!
Morgaine fearlessly stepped forward, locking eyes with the
officer.
The Senate will indeed hear about this! One of your own poets, as I
recall, once wrote something I think went like, Heavy is the brow that
wears the crown of command. Ive just made you aware that the Guild--and
Raven specifically--requires the aid of your fleet. Even as we argue, she
is attacking Nostradamus and the First School of Sorcery, and this fleet
is needed in the operation she is undertaking!
Now there are two things you can do--you can sail to Arwinium or sail
into Serpenalik. Assume you sail to Arwinium. One of two things happens:
Raven fails in her mission, is killed, and you get to stand before the Senate
to explain why the woman who has brought your Senators untold wealth for
the past twenty seasons is now dead because you refused her direct order
for assistance--or two, she succeeds without your help, and in her report
to the Senate she makes pointed mention of the Tribune who refused her direct
command to assist her, and sailed away, deliberately placing her life at
risk. In that case, I hope you can count on Aristides standing at your side
and supporting your actions--not in Atlantium, but in Draconium before
Drusis, the Grains faction, and the rest of the Senators who heed her every
word. So make your final decision now--but weigh carefully the
consequences!
Were only half a legion, woman! the Tribune grumbled after
a moment. Thats three thousand men if you dont know!
Weve no siege equipment; only our regular arms. We have no cavalry.
No battle plan. We cant conquer Serpenalik with half a legion of foot
soldiers!
You arent conquering the city of Serpenalik--you are going to
destroy one School! Other allies will be joining you, including, probably,
the wizards of another School. Raven has planned the operation out to the
smallest detail, and Venivica, here, carries written battle instructions
from Drusis for all your Tribunes and Centurions. Provided you follow the
instructions we have for you, total victory should be ours! Now will you
follow the orders Ive related from Raven, or not?
Silently, Marcus cursed and turned away, leaning down upon the port rail
of his ship.
By Jupiters beard, how I hate politics, he thought. I despise
politics!
The Scriptorium
The busiest places in a School of Sorcery are its Scriptoriums. Now one
might think that wizards spend the majority of their time learning how to
cast spells, or else mixing up potions and elixirs, but the actual fact is
that wizards in the great Schools spend most of their time doing humdrum
scribe work. The reason for this is that as repositories for the worlds
written works dealing with magic or Sorcery, the Schools must continuously
copy these works so that they are not lost through the process of aging.
You see, only stone lasts forever. Everything else crumbles with
age.
Most often, people write on parchment, which is made from the skin of
sheep, though goat or doeskin is also used. The best medium to preserve
ones writings, however, is vellum, which is made from calfskin exposed
to lime, which is then worked by tanners into a usable writing skin. In the
South, people still use papyrus to write on as did the ancient Karnakis.
(Papyrus actually comes from plants that grow near the sea off Arwin.) In
the past few years one also sees Ravens inexpensive mulberry paper
in use more and more.
Of these writing media, Parchment can last for several hundred years,
whereas vellum is known to last for up to a whole millennium. Ravens
mulberry paper will last a few years, though it seems to crumble easily,
and does not hold up well. But it is at least inexpensive compared to
parchment.
Papyrus is actually the worst medium to use, for while it lasts for thousands
of years in the dryness of Arwin, it falls apart in only a short time when
taken to moister climates such as Hocwraths. But fortunately the alchemists
of ages past developed some sort of concoction they dipped the ancient papyri
in which bonded to it, allowing the papyri to last almost indefinitely. This
concoction does not work on animal skins, unfortunately, and thus parchment
and vellum decay normally at the Schools.
Its for these reasons wizards at the Schools spend most of their
time copying, recopying and rebinding ancient texts of the wizards that preceded
them, a boring and monotonous task, but one which is nonetheless
critical.
The Fellowship realized immediately that the iron door led back into the
tower, for the architecture resembled that of the third story below them,
and the group found themselves entering from the side into a great hall running
north and south. A slight draft wafted its way down the empty hall like some
ghost touching and caressing their faces. With it, the feeling of dread--that
feeling they were not alone--seemed to return.
Hold up a minute, Raven spoke, her voice lowering. The Mistress
of Freeport then looked back and forth, her gaze finally settling to the
north.
Lets go as far north as we can and see whats there--Ive
got an idea, she continued.
This they did as Nightshadow and Thor led the way forward, the others again
spaced out every ten feet or so behind them. Once more, they seemed to make
all the racket in the world as rustling clothing and creaking armor broke
the tomblike silence as they trod upon the tiles of blue and gold the hall
was floored with.
For over a hundred feet they walked, passing doors and hallways and unlit
torch brackets or darkened chandeliers, until the corridor ended at a wall
covered by a large tapestry. Naturally, they took a quick peek behind it
to find nothing but a bare wall of basalt, and Raven looked back toward a
set of doors a few yards behind them.
Through those doors, she ordered.
They no sooner had begun to move toward them and then the sound came to their
ears from back the way theyd come: The same metallic shuffling and
sounds of heavy footfalls as theyd heard earlier.
Another golem! Espidreen cried out, reaching for a
pearl.
Ravens hand dropped down to her belt and out came another pellet that
she hurled down the corridor.
As designed to do, the pellet broke, the light revealing another mechanical
construct moving toward them. It had apparently come out from one of the
side passages it patrolled and, having heard the noise of the group down
the hall, was investigating.
This golem, however, was different from the last: It was smaller, about eight
feet in height, and bore a different visage from the iron warrior theyd
fought on the third level. This wizard-made monstrosity was crafted of a
silver-like metal and was in the form of a pot-bellied human dressed in a
loincloth and helmet, bearing no weapons but its fists, each of which was
about the size of a mans head.
It was sixty feet away, and advancing.
Raven looked to Espidreen, intending to tell her to get her scrolls out,
but the Witch was already fumbling for them. The situation thus in hand,
she then raised the bow and let fly an arrow.
It flew true and bounced off the constructs chest.
Save your spells, and hold your breath--Ill take it
out.
It was Nightshadow who spoke as he moved out to meet the oncoming enemy.
He advanced quickly, covering the distance to the creature while it was still
more than ten yards distant. Then he held up his left scimitar and spoke
the words, Sword be flame!
Immediately, a fiery glow spread up the surface of the blade until the weapon
seemed to pulsate with power.
Nightshadow now stood before the golem, waiting for its attack.
The monster obliged, stepping up to him--but it didnt swing its fists
as everyone expected. Instead, it seemed to lean toward him and expunged
some sort of fiery spittle!
Nightshadow managed to lean back and to the left, and the spittle flew past
him, splattering against the floor. Then came his attack as he lurched back
and slashed against the golems right leg.
The scimitar cut through and severed the golems thick appendage with
no more effort than one might slice through a loaf of bread with a sharp
knife!
A sword of sharpness! Espidreen gasped in awe.
Thats nearly an Artifact of Power!
The golem collapsed against the wall with a great crash and then rolled forward,
colliding with the ground. Once more, the Rogue brought the sword down, driving
the blade into the constructs head and nearly splitting it in half.
But no sooner had it struck then the corridor seemed to explode in a cloud
of fire and a spray of molten metal that spewed out from the golems
head.
The group was driven back against the wall from the heat, and they could
hear Nightshadow crying out in pain. Thankfully, the effects lasted only
a few moments, then all was still again as the Rogue, smoke rising off of
him, was hurrying back to them, shaking in pain.
Behind him lay the golem, dead in its own pool of molten metal.
Wonderr what the next onell do, Doremi heard Mac Tavish
muttering beneath his breath as he retreated from behind his shield and arose
from a crouch.
You okay? Raven called out as Nightshadow approached.
He nodded in frustration. Yes. I just wish we could fight something
with some life energy that the Sapphire could absorb. Its been
a losing proposition so far!
At those words, Raven suddenly got concerned.
Its not being drained too much, is it?
The Rogue shook his head. Im fine, he said calmly.
Its just rare that Ive been in so many situations where
the Sapphire is being drained without the counterbalance of killing
someone to recharge what gets used up.
So the demons and ogres didnt help, then? asked Espidreen
from a few feet away.
No--they dont have actual souls. The Sapphire requires
me to kill people to recharge it. And typically, I find myself in
enough situations where thats not a problem.
Thats what makes it such an evil device, Doremi thought to
herself.
Nightshadow caught the look on the Bards face. I only kill bad
people, or people who have done something wrong, he explained. There
never seems to be a shortage of those. I dont kill people who dont
somehow deserve it...at least, I try not to.
Well, Raven spoke with a wink, I dont think well
find too many things up here who count as people, but youll
be fine.
Your swords, brother, Cyllindrethifl now spoke up. --are
they from the First Age?
Nightshadow nodded. They were made by the matriarch of the TenTollivers,
Princess Ellendyryl.
Espidreen looked down, admiringly, at them. Are both swords of
sharpness, Nightshadow?
Yes. The enchantment doesnt last long, however. Ill save
Dellendrylls enchantment for Nostradamus.
That brought the conversation to an end and they formed up upon the nearby
ornate wooden doors of white and gold, finding that they opened to reveal
a large chamber stretching beyond the range of their lights.
Large bookcases, rising up from the floor to nearly the ceiling, fifteen
feet above, met their gaze as the doors swung open.
Two rows of these bookcases ran down the length of the chamber to its end,
over fifty feet distant. Between the two rows lay a space of ten feet, and
at the center of the room stood a large table piled high with parchments,
books and ink vials.
A Library, Nightshadow spoke, glancing around.
Now this is more like what I expected a Library to be, Raven
remarked, scanning the room from left to right.
I believe this is actually a Scriptorium, Raven, Espidreen pointed
out. If youll notice, the bookcases on the right side are stuffed
full, while some on the left are empty. Typically, books needing to be copied
are placed in one bookcase or series of bookcases, while the recopied works
are placed in their own separate bookcases.
The Witch pointed down toward the table. Those stacks of parchment
down there on that table Ill wager are blank, ready to be used for
scribing.
Whatever, Espy.
Raven then turned back to the Bard. Doremi, get your maps out. Lets
use that table down there.
The Mistress of Freeport, after glancing up to the roof, led the way in and
the ten heroes followed, making their way forward to the big table at the
center of the room.
Behind them the shadow followed, flowing through the crack of the right door
between its hinges. Unseen, it wrapped itself around the stone wall and
disappeared into the northeast corner of the room. Then, in the blink of
an eye, it shot up to the ceiling, hiding in the shadows behind a thick roof
beam.
Down at the table, Raven brushed aside the pile of papers and Doremi laid
out her charcoal sketches of the complex. The Mistress of Freeport examined
them as the Witches crowded around.
I want to know, Raven spoke, jerking her thumb north, if
this wall has the Pit on the other side.
Leaning over, Thor looked down to the maps. Depends on how wide the
thing is, he replied.
Throckmortons is about a hundred-or-so-feet wide, Doremi
informed them.
Thats right, Cyllindrethifl agreed.
Well, if the Pit here is the same general size, Raven muttered,
then by the amount of distance we just walked down the hall--the Pit should
be on the other side of the wall!
Raven now looked toward the west end of the room where another set of double
doors led to some new area.
Nightshadow, she spoke, would you go take a peek through
those doors and see if the wall here-- she pointed to the north side
of the room --extends out into whatever is on the other side of the
door?
All right.
The Rogue nodded and departed off toward the doorway.
Now were about two hundred-and-fifty-feet below the top level
of the tower, Raven spoke to herself. Too high for a moon
rope spell.
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke up, the sides are very rough.
Climbable for at least some of us.
After taking a peak through the doorway, Nightshadow was returning. His left
scimitar, Brigit, everyone noted, had lost its enchantment and no longer
glowed.
I think its a reading room, and yes--the wall extends out from
this chamber, he reported.
Okay, Raven spoke, satisfied. We need to consider our options
for getting up the side of the Pit quickly. Maybe the best thing to do is
see what were facing, and go from there. Come on, Cyl--lets break
into the shaft of the Pit.
Raven laid down the maps and made for the northwest corner of the room, followed
by most of the others. Doremi took a moment to gather up the maps, then she
paused to take a good look about the chamber.
As Espidreen had noted, the bookcases on the north side of the room were
stuffed full with tomes on both sides of each case. Those to the right, however,
were more sparsely filled.
The Bard casually wandered down toward the eastern end of the room, and as
she looked about a tome caught her eye. It was on the second bookcase to
her left, near the northeast corner: A thick tome bound in fiery red leather
with fancy golden hinges securing the cover to the spine.
Curious about it, she reached up and tried to grab the book. Unfortunately,
it was on a shelf almost ten feet above the floor, out of reach.
Temporarily stymied, Doremi looked around, finding no stool or ladder about.
She considered fetching the chair to stand upon, but instead she chose merely
to step up upon the lip of the second shelf of the bookcase, using
it as a ladder.
The others, meanwhile, were in the northwest corner of the Scriptorium, grouped
near the wall.
Cyl, hit that with a stone form, and make a hole for us,
Raven was saying as she tapped the stone. Then well see what
we have to do to get up to the top.
The Druid obediently complied, kneeling down before the wall and placing
her palms upon it as Raven stepped back.
O wall of stone, she spoke, I ask your pardon, but I must
alter your form somewhat.
Raven rolled her eyes. Cyl, its just a
wall!
Still, Raven, its good to ask.
Raven squinted and looked to Espidreen, who shrugged and gave her an
Its a Druid thing look.
Y rreally think itll mind, eh? asked the Highlander,
tugging on his beard.
I just dont want to take the chance of offending it,
sir.
I suppose you Druids also believe that trees know when you cut them
down? Thor asked, equally puzzled over the whole matter.
They do, and you shouldnt unless absolutely
necessary!
Having spoken that, Cyllindrethifl closed her eyes and concentrated. The
surface then seemed to shimmer and pulsate, but after a few moments the
shimmering faded and it returned to normal, unchanged despite the
spell.
Surprised, the Druid looked up.
Fosmo, arms folded across his chest, started laughing. Guess it did
mind after all!
Whats the problem? Raven demanded to know.
Cyllindrethifl stood up and turned to her mistress. The spell wont
work, Raven. Apparently, the enchantments in this place prevent altering
the stone work.
The Mistress of Freeport let out a sigh. Okay, she reluctantly
concluded, we have to do it the hard way. Lets keep
moving.
Raven looked around.
Whered Doremi get off to? she then asked.
Doremi, standing on the second shelf, had her hands on the book. It was wedged
tightly, and she gave it a tug. The tome didnt budge so she tugged
again harder and it moved out slightly. Sensing victory was at hand, she
leaned into the bookcase and then snapped back, pulling hard on the book,
and it finally gave way.
Above, a shadowy arm extended out from the darkness--and pushed the entire
bookcase forward from the other side.
The Bard felt the bookcase starting to tip over and she jerked back, trying
to stop it--but it was too late. Doremi gave a shout as she struck the bookcase
behind her, injuring her elbow, then she dropped to the ground as the entire
bookcase slid toward her. It rolled forward with a groan and struck the bookcase
behind it with a great crash, forcing that one to fall, in turn, against
the next.
One thunderous cash after another then resounded throughout the chamber as
bookcase after bookcase fell into the next and forced it forward, until the
last finally collided against the far wall--where the party had just jumped
and scrambled out of the way.
The noise eventually faded away and Doremi thanked her lucky stars she was
still alive, lying on the floor within a small triangular space created by
the bookcase as it lay atop its mate. The tome still in her hands, the Bard
took in a breath and managed to roll onto her stomach. Then, using her elbows,
she began to wiggle out to safety. It took a few moments and then she began
to emerge, halting when she ran against someone standing in a black woolen
robe.
The Bard looked up into Espidreens scowling face.
The Witch stared coldly down at her for a moment, then turned to give Raven,
who was hurrying forward, a you brought her look.
Is there any possible way, Raven was saying through gritted teeth,
that Liches are so deaf they somehow could fail to hear those eight
crashes, each of which was louder than the loudest peal of thunder Ive
ever heard in my life?!
I suppose well know shortly, Raven, answered the
Witch.
A tear began falling down Doremis cheek. Im sorry--it was
an accident!
Seeing Doremi was still in the land of the living, Nightshadow reached down
to help her up.
Raven, he spoke in Doremis defense, if they havent
heard us yet with all the noise weve been making, I doubt they heard
this either.
She nearly got us killed just now! Espidreen exclaimed.
After helping the Bard to her feet, Nightshadow turned to the
Witch.
Stop picking on her, he warned in no uncertain terms.
Stymied, Espidreen took the warning to heart and said nothing
more.
People--and that means everyone, Raven began, --we cant
afford any more mistakes like this! I want everyone thinking twice before
they do anything, understand?
Cyllindrethifl, presuming that Ravens words couldnt possibly
be applicable to her, leaned down and picked up one of the tomes that was
scattered about the floor. She opened it and her eyes seemed to widen. Then
she retrieved another, and her mouth dropped open.
Raven, she whispered, these are Witch spells! This is a
Library of Witchery!
WHAT?! Raven and Espidreen exclaimed together.
Suddenly, they no longer cared about Doremis accident as the two Witches
rushed to the Elfs side while she held out the book in her hands. Espidreen
eagerly took it and began reading as Raven looked over her
shoulder.
Shes right--it is, the Witch spoke excitedly.
Raven then glanced around, the wheels in her head turning, trying to figure
out how to take a whole Library of books with them.
There must be thousands of spells here, huh? Fosmo spoke, looking
the bookshelves over.
Espidreen looked up. No, thats not how they work, she replied.
There are only around five hundred spells Witches can cast, not including
unique ones individual Witches may have researched. Spell books like these
contain a Witchs spells she has acquired, along with notes on any
experiments shes conducted using substitute ingredients and the like.
Here and there, one might find new spells, but these books, by and large,
will contain the same spells. Its the notes by their previous owners
that could make them priceless to us--along with any new spells that may
be present.
Espidreen turned to Raven. We need this Library,
Raven.
Guess you guys know how I felt, huh?! Doremi couldnt
help exclaiming.
And just like your Music Library, Doremi, Raven answered, we
have to leave them for now.
The look on Espidreens face showed she clearly wasnt
happy.
Espy, Raven now spoke to the frustrated Witch, you need
to learn how to simply let it go when theres nothing to be done.
Theres no way to take these, and we have a job to do. Set those books
down, and lets get going!
Reluctantly Espidreen set down the tome she held. Doremi also complied and
tossed the attractive spell book with the cover of red leather and golden
hinges upon one of the fallen bookcases.
For now, theyd have to remain where they were.
Boy, me would love to loot this place from top to bottom, eh!
Fosmo exclaimed.
Youd die of old age before you could haul it out, Fosmo.
Theres probably not enough space in all of Freeport for all the wonders
here, Raven speculated. Theyve had ten thousand years to
acquire treasure--and this is just one room of it!
Thor let out an anxious breath. We moving on? he
asked.
Yes, Thor, were moving on.
Raven nodded toward the doors to the reading room Nightshadow had found.
Lets start moving west, and look for some stairs into the tower
itself. Maybe it will be laid out less haphazardly.
Leaving the tantalizing Library behind, they passed beyond into the next
chamber, finding it an almost charming mixture of desks, chairs, ottomans,
writing tables and bookcases beneath a coffered ceiling of cherrywood panels.
Long ago, wizards once comfortably studied here in an atmosphere conducive
to research, but one could sense nobody had used the chamber within living
memory.
Doors led off in three directions from the chamber and the Fellowship now
began passing through a maze of corridors and rooms, trying to find a way
up into the tower itself.
To say that the layout of the place was confusing was an understatement.
They would make their way this way and that, and up and down, and sometimes
even backtrack the way theyd come in their quest to make sense of the
maze-like layout of the structure.
As Doremi had warned, it was a warren of levels inside of levels with seemingly
no logical thought given to make the layout to make sense. They might enter
into a small chamber that was illuminated by a spell, walk forward ten feet,
then turn to go down three steps past an arcade of arches into another larger
room, pitch black, that had a stairway leading up to two open halls, one
lit and one dark, leading off to the gods knew where.
How then could they tell the difference between a passage leading on to where
they wanted to go, and one that did not?
Some places looked brand new, as if theyd never seen use, while others
were decrepit and even dangerous to traverse. Yet on and on they pressed,
taking comfort in their belief that the tower complex was at least lightly
guarded.
Above them, meanwhile, the Liche was gloating in confidence. Nearly all of
the intruders had been seriously wounded by confronting nothing more powerful
than a cloud of bats and a swarm of rats. However many of them lasted to
reach the top of the tower, they would never survive the final trap: a band
of Gypsy assassins backed by a host of life-draining spirits and all twelve
of the Conclave! It was only a matter of time before they would encounter
enemies so far beyond their ability to defend against that the mightiest
of them would be left lying dead upon the floor in the first moments of the
attack.
Nightshadow would survive a while longer, of course. But the moment the rest
of the Rogues allies were dead, the Lord of the First School would
enter battle and the end would come swiftly.
Even if by some miracle the burglars managed to defeat the Conclave--something
not even Throckmorton with all his Masters could do--the Liche had
one final power piece to play that none of them could withstand. His would
be the last line of defense, and he would not be broken by Nightshadow or
any of the rest of them.
Either way, the Talisman Nightshadow wore would be no help to him
whatever.
Thus delighted with the brilliance of his own plan, the Liche continued on
with the entertainment of watching his enemies march on to their own
doom.
Across the courtyard, meanwhile, a small army of Dwarves poured through the
enchanted portal, entering the darkened stairway leading down to another
maze of passages and chambers between the Upper and Lower Schools. Last to
enter was Varinia, who halted a moment to let her eyes adjust. Though it
was dark, she could see the wide steps of the stairs running both directions
and a canopy of stars spreading out overhead.
Us go Rolf now? one of the Vikings spoke from the
crowd.
The young Witch squinted, trying to see who it was that spoke from the shadows.
Yes, go--but quietly, though! she whispered.
Eagerly, the knot of Scandians began separating from the Dwarves to file
up toward the courtyard above.
The stairway was huge, at least thirty feet wide, leaving Varinia and the
Dwarves with more than enough room to remain hidden in comfortably. Quickly,
the Witch opened her locket up, shining its light down as far as she could
see. In the distance below, she could just make out a landing.
Dwarves, she spoke, pointing, set this wall down there
a few feet above that landing. A few of you should stay as close as you can
to keep an eye out--but watch out for the heat. Face it at an angle so it
points to the south somewhat; we wont be able to move it once it
starts.
There were some grunts of understanding, and gruff voice called out,
Faust, Red Fist, Silver Blade and Two Hammers--lend a
hand.
The four powerful warriors lowered or sheathed their arms as they moved up
to take hold of the wall of stone and its scaffolding. Wasting no time, they
began carrying it downward, away from the rest of the group.
The rest of us will remain hidden here, Varinia went on as they
left. If our presence is detected, well move out into the courtyard
to hold these stairs.
Orc Bane, the gruff voice spoke again, use your cloak to
remain hidden and keep watch near the top of the stairs. Warn us if you see
anything.
One of the Dwarves raised his axe in response and hurried upward, wrapping
his long gray cloak about his platemail as he went. Almost immediately, he
seemed to meld in with the stonework and was lost from view, leaving behind
only the muffled sounds of his footsteps and creaking armor as he
ascended.
Down below, the Dwarves maneuvered the portal into position. Then,
their task complete, one of them stepped in and passed through, back to
Naz-Al.
Now! he spoke to three of his fellows who had been left
behind.
With that, he ducked back into the stairway and hurried behind the wall of
glowing wood.
It only took one heave for the Dwarves to shove the wall of marble over the
precipice. Down it tumbled into the reddish orange river of lava far below.
It struck and seemed to float like a raft for a moment, then it settled into
the stream and vanished into the fiery muck.
Back at the School, a stream of lava began flowing out the
portal. For the first few moments, the stream was barely noticeable.
Then a ten-foot river of molten rock began spilling out as it poured down
the stairs and covered the landing before flowing south along a
passageway.
The Dwarves were elated, for it was working just as they had planned: The
lava, slowly but surely, would flow along the passageway and eventually down
other stairways until it would meet up with the water from the Vikings
portal someplace down below. It would then solidify--or so they
thought--blocking off the Upper School from its reinforcements. And indeed,
most of the lava flowed exactly as expected.
Most of it--but not all of it.
The Athenaeum
The groups sojourn within the lower levels of the tower complex continued.
There were still several wonders left for them to behold, and they came upon
the first as they passed through some sort of alchemical laboratory on their
way to a set of doors at its far end. Nightshadow thrust them open and the
first thing everyone beheld was a large chamber brightly illuminated from
the nighttime sky!
Their first thoughts were those of puzzlement, for as the Fellowship entered
they looked up to observe the moonlit sky shining above them and lighting
up the circular chamber. For a moment, Raven wondered if somehow they could
have been transported to the top of the tower itself, but just as quickly
as the thought came she realized that was impossible.
No, apparently--through some miracle of sorcery--the roof had been altered
into a sort of window allowing one to view the sky above.
Below the night sky nestled a comfortable chamber ringed with graceful Doric
columns along its outer circumference. Vine orchids wrapped their way around
the columns, giving one, as he stood upon the floor of clay tiles, the impression
of being in a garden.
I dont know how they did this, Raven remarked, looking
about as she stepped inside behind Nightshadow and Thor, but I wish
I could do the same with the Inn! Closest I could come was the glass ceiling
over the Elven section!
It certainly was a marvel, but it took only a few moments to realize the
Liches had constructed it not because they cared for beauty, but for reasons
much more in keeping with their lust for knowledge and advantage over
others.
The key lay at the center of the chamber: a huge wooden ball, twice the size
of a man, that had been meticulously carved with constellations and stars
upon its surface. It was set within a frame permitting one to rotate it in
any direction, and a brass rim round its center was scribed with numbers
and symbols.
An astrological lab, Raven, Espidreen observed as she looked
over the great ball. The Liches must use this to divine the
future.
The Mistress of Freeport snorted derisively as she stepped over to a second
astrological aid nearby. I refuse to believe in astrology, she
declared with contempt as she reached out to examine it. I make my
own future!
Raven ended her comments at that, focusing her attention on the smaller
contrivance before her.
One would have to call what her hand laid upon a
machine, though none of them had seen its like before. It appeared
to reproduce the universe in miniature, for a golden ball lay at the center.
Surrounding it, attached by a complex maze of wires and rods, lay seven spheres
representing planets. Some even had their own moons circling them.
Like the wooden ball of constellations, a large ring of brass encircled the
machine, and inscribed thereon was a calendar of sorts, showing months and
days and years--seven of them, to be exact. A crank was set upon the machine
and as Raven turned it, the planets and moons all began moving--at different
speeds--around each other and in a great circle as the rim spun with
it.
What is this thing?! Raven exclaimed, looking over to
her Witches.
Espidreen squinted and looked up and down and all around the queer device.
I think it is meant to be a depiction of the universe, Raven,
she finally concluded. It shows the seven known planets, two of which
are closer to the sun than Jewel, and the four which are further from
it.
The Witch pointed to a set of two planets, third from the sun. I think
that is Jewel.
Ravens eyes narrowed. But why did he make the moon so big? And
look how large the sun is--its positively gigantic! Why would he depict
things that way?
I dont know, Raven. Perhaps he believes some planets are much
bigger than others.
Cyl, whats your opinion? Raven now asked.
The Elf looked it over and shook her head. I think Espidreen is correct,
Raven, though I do not pretend to understand the rationale behind this. I
can tell you, however, that in the temple of Brigit there is a depiction
of the universe that also shows seven planets, with Jewel being third closest
to the sun.
Raven continued turning the crank and the machine clicked and whirred as
all the planets compassed about the sun on their courses. Then she let go
and stepped back.
A toy, she concluded, and nothing more.
Isnt it interesting that he has the planets look like balls?
Doremi now spoke as she pointed. Not flat, but
spherical.
Strange that, Raven spoke. Makes no
sense.
A wizard I know once told me he believed all planets were round like
balls, Doremi continued as she gazed with curiosity at the contrivance.
He said you could tell just by looking at the sun and moon, which are
spherical.
Well, thats obviously ridiculous! Espidreen exclaimed,
scowling toward her.
Why do you say that? asked the Bard.
Raven squinted. For goodness sake, Doremi, she spoke, if
planets were spherical, all the water and all the people would slide off!
Planets are circular, yes--but flat, not spherical!
The Bard considered her words for a moment and decided they made good
sense.
He also has the sun standing still and everything moving around
it, Cyllindrethifl pointed out. Obviously, thats
wrong as well since the sun revolves around Jewel, not Jewel around
it!.
Let that be a lesson to you, Raven spoke up. Just because
youre a Liche, that doesnt mean youre
smart.
The astrological aids werent the only things in the chamber. Shelves
were stuffed full with parchments and books, presumably for use in predicting
the future, and Doremi supposed it might be fun to see what she might learn
about her own future if she could figure out how everything
worked.
Hey, Raven, has anyone ever told you your fortune? she asked
innocently.
As seemed to happen all too often, Ravens response wasnt what
she expected: Her face tightened and became angry.
Only some accursed Gypsy, who put a curse on me! she spat back.
Fortune-telling is bunkum! Thats why only fools believe in it.
Make your own fortune, I say! Right, Espy?
The Witch stood there, not immediately responding.
Right, Espidreen? Raven repeated.
Well, um, yes--fortune-telling often leads a person into the wrong
directions, the Witch spoke in response. Ive seen it happen
more than once. I dont know as Id reject all of it out of hand,
but certainly its not fully reliable.
Yet Nostradamus seems to believe in it, the Bard
observed.
And look what good its done him, Doremi--he didnt even
foresee Nightshadow would wind up with the Mind Sapphire instead of
himself!
Doremi had to admit that was true.
The hard part seems to be in understanding the omens, Espidreen
went on. It is so easy to misinterpret them. Be one a Vestal, Witch,
or Sorcerer, understanding omens, dreams or prophecy is
challenging.
All the more reason its a waste of time! Raven shot back.
No ones ever prophesied about me, and Im the most important
person in Jewels history since Gorus! So there you have it! Omens,
prophecy, dreams, bird entrails--all superstition meant to lower peoples
potential by forcing them to fit their lives to someone elses false,
preconceived notions.
Having finished her assessment of fortune-telling, Raven proudly nodded her
satisfaction with her own words.
Odd thing is, the Gypsies seem to be best at divining the future,
Espidreen mentioned. Strange that a people so useless should have one
ability in superior measure to that of the rest of Wizardry.
Raven let out a moan. Dont get me started on Gypsies, Espy,
she said.
As they were having this discussion, the others in the group had fanned out
within the chamber. Thor, investigating the far side of the room, addressed
a large door of brass inlaid with sorcerous symbols whose function he
couldnt guess. Most interesting was a large human palm inscribed in
the center of the portal, upraised and silently conveying the message keep
out!
Thor wasnt intimidated, of course, so he reached out to take hold of
the doors golden handle and give it a tug. The next instant, everyone
heard his cry and looked over, then they were rushing toward him.
Doremi caught what happened from the corner of her eye: Thor had grasped
the door handle and at the same instant the door seemed to come alive as
a great fist reached out and caught the huge Scandian in its own
grasp!
There was no time for him to react, and in the blink of an eye he was off
his feet, being crushed in the grasp of the fist.
Groaning in pain, the Scandian was using his massive arms and legs to try
to leverage free, but the magic seemed superior to even Thors
strength!
The group was there in moments, but then they all heard his cry and the horrid
crushing sound of the Vikings bones as they started to break under
the fists grip.
Nightshadow immediately swung a scimitar into the fist, but he could tell
the moment it struck that the blow had done nothing.
Mac Tavish, meanwhile, charged the door right behind him, dropping his claymore
while retrieving his axe as he ran. When he reached it, the Highlander swung
the big axe into the door with all his might--only to have the shaft break,
its head flying off and nearly striking Cyllindrethifl.
Nightshadows scimitars joined the claymore on the floor as the Rogue
now reached over to try and force open the fingers of the hand with his own
great strength.
Witches, cast something! Raven was shouting as she reached the
scene, reaching for an elixir to pour into Thors mouth.
In response, Espidreen began mouthing a disenchantment spell as Raven
poured the elixir down Thors throat to keep him going.
A moment later, the door glowed as the Witchs spell targeted it, but then the glow faded away and the crushing fist remained wrapped around the Scandian.
A soften material
song, the Bard thought as she
ran--that might do it!
The problem was, that song, which could soften the metal of the fist and
perhaps allow it to be cut through, needed a violin to be played on, and
Doremi didnt bring one! Then the idea came to her: Shed never
heard of it being done before, and it might not work, but shed make
the attempt and see what happened.
The Bard pulled up, hands reaching for the strings and neck of the lute.
Faire-chlaidh-ceols voice then sang out through the chamber, but as Doremi rubbed
her fingers across the strings, trying to mimic the draw of a bow, the sound
of a violin could be heard accompanying it!
Instantly, the fist began to quiver and resonate as the Bard played, though
its grip remained around the Scandians body.
Try cutting the fist with a sword--hurry! she urged.
Move! Giles cried as he leapt forward, raising his sword with
both hands.
Nightshadow swiveled to the front of Thor, keeping his hands on the index
finger and thumb of the fist, still trying to pry it apart as Mac Tavish,
still surprised at losing his ax, ducked and twisted away at the Knights
word.
Giles grunted, swinging the blade around in an arc, hoping to sever the fist
from the door. The blow rang out through the chamber as the blade connected
with the brass fist--and the hand nearly came off the door!
Again the Knight swung, and this time the hand fell to the ground, the Viking
still caught within its grasp. But now its enchantment was gone and between
Thors own strength, coupled with that of Nightshadow and the softened
metal from Doremis spell-song, the fingers were quickly pried apart
and the Viking rolled free, cursing the fist in Scandian while thrashing
about in pain.
He lay for a few moments grunting in pain as Raven fed him another elixir.
Then he took several deep breaths and held up his hand, indicating he was
all right.
Raven smiled and patted him twice on the knee. Then she stood up, her eyes
seeking Doremi.
Excellent move, Doremi! she exclaimed.
Ravens eyes next fixed their gaze upon Espidreen. Lucky thing
we had a Bard along to do that, the Mistress of Freeport added. We
almost lost Thor!
The Witch said nothing, but looked away to the door, crossing her hands and
expelling a breath.
It was the proudest Doremi had felt all night.
Witches and Doremi, Raven now called out. I dont
have to tell you what would have happened if that had been any of you
caught in that thing--youd be dead right now!
She shook a finger at them. Be extra careful--let
us take the lead into new areas, remember that!
Thor coughed and struggled back to his feet, looking for Doremi. What
did you do? he asked, looking over to her.
Doremi held out the lute. I played a song to soften the metal of the
fist so they could cut through it. It actually takes a violin to work, but
I got lucky and it worked with my lute.
The Viking was satisfied--and grateful.
Our Scalds do magic like that with stone and wood, he continued.
They dont use instruments, though, but neither do they cast spells
like the Islayans do; they sing the spells because the spells wont
work unless you sing them out.
Really! Doremi exclaimed. Some Bards can do that too. Im
fortunate enough to be one of them, though it doesnt always
work.
Thor cleared his throat and scowled at the door, intending to make sure he
didnt leave this chamber without getting the best of the enchanted
portal. Angrily--yet warily--he took a step over to it.
At the same time, Doremi suddenly gasped in shock as a thought struck her
out of nowhere and she realized she might have just solved one of the great
mysteries of Islay.
Meanwhile, the Viking reached out and a muscular arm took hold of the handle,
roughly throwing the door open, prepared for whatever lay ready to meet
him.
Light flooded in from the other side and the Scandians head turned
from side to side as he took a good look. His muscles relaxed, but everyone
could see from his expression that he was surprised.
Still looking around in near wonderment, Thor moved within as the others
followed behind, anxious to see what so entranced him. As each reached the
doorway, they understood as the same wonderment fell upon them.
One by one, they filed slowly, languidly onto a balcony, their mouths falling
open and their eyes widening as they beheld the next chamber.
If one can compare a campfire to the sun or a pond to the sea, then the word
Library might have been an appropriate word to use for what came to
their eyes beyond the door.
Books!
Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of books!
More books than there were grains of sand on a beach! An uncountable myriad
of books, scrolls, papers, and even tablets of stone filling a chamber so
big the only thing Doremi had seen to compare to it was the rotunda of
Ravens tower.
The chamber was a vast circular shaft nearly a hundred feet tall and equally
wide. From a regally tiled floor of red, yellow and gold inlaid with glowing
symbols of Wizardry, eight gigantic rows of bookcases radiated out from the
central hub of the room like the spokes of some titanic wheel, stretching
from the floor to nearly the ceiling.
By the gods, Doremi heard Raven muttering as she gazed out upon
the magnificence before her, --a Library!
By the bloody gods you mean! Fosmo exclaimed, at a loss
for other words.
Behind, Espidreen stood still, her mouth hanging open at the
sight.
No, Raven, she managed to speak despite her own shock, not
a Library--an Athenaeum!
Raven, unwilling to look away, leaned back toward the Witch. I dont
know that word.
Espidreen drew in a breath and began to speak.
An Athenaeum is a...repository! A repository of the sum total
of Mankinds knowledge. Records chronicling everything ever written
by the hand of man. The written knowledge of ten thousand years of history
and humanity. All thats known about magic, sorcery, medicine, religion,
astrology, alchemy...everything from the natural sciences to the arcane--all
gathered in one place.
The Witch swallowed to moisten her parched throat.
They were legendary, she continued, for no one but the
highest Masters of the Schools supposedly had access to them if they existed.
But the story always was, that the First and Second Schools both had an
Athenaeum somewhere within them. Now we see the legend is
true.
In here is everything ever written? Romulus asked, incredulous
at the thought.
Not literally, Romulus Cyllindrethifl responded. But there
are copies of every noteworthy book or treatise ever penned, that the School
has been able to get its hands on.
The group stood silent for a few more moments, taking in the sight. Finally,
Raven nodded to a circular iron stairway leading down to the floor of the
chamber about forty feet below.
Lets head down. Thor? she spoke.
The Viking, no less amazed than the rest, managed a nod and began descending
followed by Nightshadow and the others.
They reached bottom without
incident and milled about, gazing upward at the vast bookcases, still awed
by their sight. Other doors, they observed, were positioned in the eastern
and western ends of the chambers.
Desmored go crazy in here, Doremi remarked, at a loss for
other words.
Raven nodded. Wed never get him out, I think.
Giles, looking up and down and around, asked, How do they fetch the
books, Lady? There be not so much as a ladder to climb yonder
bookcases.
Simple cantrip, Cyllindrethifl answered for Raven. They
could use a simple first rank spell to will a book to come down to them,
or return itself to its place.
But how would they know what book is where? Romulus
wondered.
The same way a dragon knows when so little as one piece of gold is
missing from its treasure horde, Espidreen replied. The mental
powers of Liches are vast--far beyond those of a living wizard. They know
every single one of these books, what theyre about, and where theyre
to be found.
Surely they could nay be so bright they could know every single one
of yonder books, could they? the Knight questioned.
The Witch looked about with a shrug. Well...its hard to know
for certain exactly what Liches can do, Giles. But I believe its
possible.
Thats why Nostradamus had his Conclave become Liches!
Raven suddenly exclaimed as her eyes flew open. He wanted to increase
their mental powers and bring them under his control! The Liche knows
knowledge is the key to power.
Perhaps thats how he invented the black powder, Cyllindrethifl
speculated.
And who knows what else? Nightshadow spoke, glancing
about.
It was then that the mood of wonderment felt by the group was suddenly broken
by a shout.
A ghostie!
The cry was from the Highlander, who was peering down between two rows of
bookcases. Then, just as quickly as hed spoken, Mac Tavish vanished
from view as he charged forward.
The others rushed to follow and beheld the Highlander, sword ready, bounding
toward a diaphanous figure standing as sentinel between two of the bookcases.
In one fast move, the claymore slashed through it twice and ended by thrusting
through the center of the spirit.
The ghostly figure vanished in a POOF!
Mac Tavish then halted, scanning about for any others as Nightshadow reached
him.
Fosmo, bringing up the rear of the group, looked back between another set
of bookcases.
Eh! Theres another one! he cried as his rapier found its
way into his hand.
Instantly, Raven pivoted back, raising her bow as the Cutpurse leapt forward,
the business end of his rapier heading for the image as he ran toward
it.
Wait, Fosmo! the Mistress of Freeport suddenly shouted
out.
The Cutpurse slid to a stop on the polished floor, looking back and forth
between Raven and the spirit, waiting for leave to do something against this
new enemy.
The shade, however, stood still, doing absolutely nothing as the group cautiously
moved up to the Cutpurse, who stood on guard a few feet from the
creature.
Raven looked the spirit over, puzzled that it seemed entirely unconcerned
over the groups presence, standing still as a statue.
Espy, she spoke quietly, is that a ghost, or what? And
why doesnt it attack?
The Witchs eyes narrowed as she gazed at the shade. Its
a spirit of some sort--that, or a conjuration, Raven. I dont know why
its just standing there; it doesnt seem to be much of a guardian,
does it?
Lets not wait for him to decide were enemies; lets
just kill it and be done with it, Romulus urged, raising his
trident.
Raven held up a hand, still pondering what she thought of the
spirit.
Doremi, she spoke after a moment, partially turning her head
back as she kept her eyes on the figure, what was the name of that
book you found in the Music Library?
The Diatesseron, answered the Bard.
You, Raven then spoke to the shade, --fetch me a copy of
the
Diatesseron!
Immediately, the figure departed, wafting upward and across the room until
it vanished between a set of bookcases as the Fellowship started following
along. They watched as it floated up nearly thirty feet above the floor of
the chamber until it reached out to withdraw a small tome from a row of books.
It then glided back down to the floor and a ghostly hand held the book out
to Raven.
Its not a guardian; its a ghost Librarian! Raven
exclaimed as she accepted the book.
A collective sigh of understanding came forth from the others as they began
to relax.
Apparently, the shade was harmless.
Raven tucked the small tome into a pocket of her cloak and then stiffened
as she thought of something.
Show me where the diagrams or sketches are of this tower! she
suddenly said.
Obediently, the shade moved off, gliding across the floor until it found
itself at a set of sliding wooden drawers crafted into one of the
bookcases.
Raven eagerly followed with the others. Everyone knew what she had in mind,
and if it worked the problem of finding their way through this place would
be solved!
The shade drew near to a set of at least fifty different sets of drawers,
and Raven was visibly excited.
Fetch me the diagrams of the third level of this tower complex up to
the very top of the tower, where the Throne room is! she
ordered.
The shade complied, opening drawers and withdrawing long leaves of parchment
that it handed over, one at a time, to Ravens enthusiastic
grasp.
After it was finished, the Mistress of Freeport looked back to the open central
area of the Athenaeum.
Some of you shove a couple of those desks together to make a good large
work space, she ordered, and lets see what weve got
here.
Three of the men moved back to do as she wished, while Raven, the shade in
tow, carried the stacks of parchments back with her and laid them down on
a desk she sat down before. Quickly, she spread them out upon it, and they
pushed a second table up against the one she was at, then the Fellowship
crowded around, looking over the diagrams and trying to make sense of
them.
This place is an architects nightmare, Raven quickly concluded
as she pored over uncounted rooms, chambers and hallways, but I think
we can figure it out.
She stood up and backed a step away from the table.
Doremi, sit, she ordered, patting the chair.
The Bard unslung her knapsack and laid it down, settling into the chair as
Raven stood behind, keeping her eyes upon the parchments.
You, Raven then spoke, looking to the shade, --show us
any secret way up to the Throne room.
Everyone paused, awaiting the shade to do something.
The spirit, however, stood unmoving and was either unable or unwilling to
heed her command.
Then Fosmo suddenly had a thought.
Eh, mate! the Cutpurse exclaimed, sticking his face toward that
of the shade. Show us where the nearest treasure room is to us,
eh!
The group held their breath in anticipation, but again the shade did nothing
but stand there.
Perhaps his knowledge is limited, Raven, Espidreen speculated.
He might only know what books and materials are in
here.
Ravens lips tightened together as she thought for a moment. So
then this--Athenaeum, as you call it--is like the master Library,
correct, Espy? Its got copies of everything else in the First School--like
Doremis Diatesseron--along with whatever else might not be in
the other Libraries?
According to my understanding, yes.
The Gladiator began to fidget. Which might be a good reason not to
stay here too long. If theres one place a Liche might visit in this
tower, this must be it, he pointed out.
Youre right, Romulus, Raven answered. Lets
stay on guard while we milk this place for what its worth.
Doremi, Raven now spoke, patting the Bard on the shoulder, try
to figure these out and make a map we can follow to get us up to the Throne
room. Cyl--sit down and help her. I want you to make a second copy of the
maps.
Nightshadow, she then spoke, stand guard on that door we
came through upstairs. Thor--you and Giles take the doors down there to the
west. Mac Tavish and Romulus, take the doors to the east. Stay alert, and
lets get this done soon as we can.
The men grunted their approval and filed off to their posts, spirits lifted
somewhat at the thought that they might soon actually have a map to
follow.
As they departed, Doremi focused in on the many maps. Some had legends indicating
what the particular chambers were, but the vast majority did nothing more
than show the legion of rooms within the structures of the great School.
Even so, it took no time to pinpoint the Athenaeum--she merely looked for
a giant circular chamber on the maps of the tower complex, and there it
was.
Raven, she spoke, pointing down to the map, heres
where we are.
Okay, Raven answered, leaning over her and looking
down.
Now, Doremi spoke, drawing her finger westward on the map,
those doors to our west lead to a large chamber, and just beyond that
is the Grand Stairway.
That may be the zoo we found, Raven, Espidreen spoke
up.
Raven, look at this!
It was Cyllindrethifl who spoke as she laid out a latitudinal map depicting
a cross section of the School, trying to compare it with Doremis
longitudinal map. She pointed to what appeared to be a gigantic hole running
the length beneath both complexes.
We were wrong about the Pit--it doesnt just extend from the central
tower downward; it runs the length of the entire School!
Espidreen now leaned forward to examine the map, surprise evident on her
face.
We never suspected. No wonder this place is so powerful, she
whispered. Even the Lower School has access to the power of Hell! What
the wizards are able to summon up must be--incredible!
So the whole place is hollow underneath, Fosmo noted.
Cyl, Raven now asked, does this affect any of our
plans?
The Elf shook her head slowly. No--but it is
interesting.
Raven, Doremi now spoke, I think the set of stairs Espidreen
mentioned at the eastern end of the zoo leads to the fourth level. See? Look
at this.
She laid down her map atop Cyllindrethifls, and they tried to make
sense of them.
The Bard traced the point from Cyllindrethifls map to another map whose
legend indicated was the bottom of the fourth level of the tower.
Theres another chamber similar in size to the zoo above it, and
at both ends of that room a set of stairs goes to what looks like the top
of the fourth level. From there...we walk east, twisting and turning, until
we reach this big chamber which opens to the tower itself!
Good job, ladies, Raven complimented. Draw out our path
as quickly as you can. Doremi--also update one of your maps with the route
from the outside of the tower complex up to the third level,
please.
The Mistress of Freeport then leaned back up, turning to Espidreen.
Espy--while were here in the Library, if you can think of two
or three significant books we simply must rescue and take with us,
have the ghost fetch them for you.
Espidreen blinked. Raven, I can think of two or three
dozen works of antiquity we should take if theyre here!
exclaimed the Witch.
Raven rolled her eyes. Yeah--which we have no room for, Espy. Make
it two or three!
The Witch sighed and looked to the shade. Bring me any books containing
the spells of the Witches Ladenna and LrZl, along with a
Book of Destinies if there is one! she
commanded.
Oh, and shade, Raven suddenly spoke as she straightened up,
also bring any books dealing with a place called Yamato, and the Sorcerer
al-Arwins legendary tower. Additionally, if there are any books here
that can magically increase a readers abilities as a spell-caster--bring
those as well.
Obligingly, the shade flew off as Doremi and Cyllindrethifl continued their
task.
Raven let out a breath. Doremi, she spoke, leaning over again,
Im going to tie my bow to your pack if you dont mind. It
doesnt seem to be doing me much good so far; I think Im better
off keeping a sword in my hand.
Yeah, sure, answered the Bard as she sketched out a path up to
the tower.
Cyllindrethifl, meanwhile, was looking through diagrams of the
tower.
Good news, Raven, she spoke, --it looks like the tower
is designed differently from the base. It appears that most of it is hollow,
as we supposed, and a stairway winds straight up to the very top
level.
Excellent, Raven exclaimed. Well keep to our timetable
and be out of here in three or four more hours!
Even so, Cyllindrethifl muttered, there seems to be something
odd about the layout...its...strange. I think they may have altered
it parts of a number of times and the maps dont indicate which is most
current. But I think we can still get to the top easily
enough.
Doremi, meanwhile, pointed down to a map before her. Here must be the
Throne room. And look--just behind it a small room of some sort reached by
a set of stairs.
Raven excitedly leaned forward. Thats it--his treasure room!
she exclaimed. Right where I thought it would be--in plain sight of
the room he cant leave!
Ah, so thats where were headed, eh, Fosmo
spoke.
Thats right, Fosmo, the Mistress of Freeport affirmed,
we just need to get past the Liche that guards it.
The Cutpurse rubbed his hands together over the thought. Me cant
wait to see what alls up there, eh! Even if ol Fosmo took the
dirt nap before leavin, itd be worth it to see what ten thousand
years o treasure look like!
Raven winked at him. If you survive to the end of this, Fosmo, I vow
youll walk out of here with all the treasure you can
carry!
Fosmo licked his chops. Me can carry a whole bunch, Raven! he
announced.
That ended the conversation on a positive light and the women went to work,
taking about a quarter of an hour or so to complete their homemade maps.
Raven then took Doremis in her hands, looking it over.
Message box, Cyl, she ordered as she began tightly folding
the map.
The Elf seemed puzzled by the request, yet she complied and removed the box
from her pouch, handing it over.
In went the map and Raven concentrated. There was the typical WHOOSH, and
then she returned the smoking box to the Elfs possession.
Whered you send those? Doremi asked.
Morgaine, back in Freeport, Raven answered. Just in case
we get caught but not killed, perhaps she can figure out a way to come rescue
us.
Even as Raven spoke, Doremi knew the statement was a lie. If
they couldnt survive this, Morgaine and whatever
forces were left to her certainly couldnt. The only question was why
would Raven utter such an obvious untruth? She couldnt possibly think
they were foolish enough to believe that.
Then the Bard understood: It was in case Nostradamus was listening in! Raven
really believed there was a chance the Liche knew they were there.
So to whom did she send the maps?
Doremi thought a while longer and finally decided it was to
Nazier.
Espidreen, meanwhile, was on her knees poring through a stack of books brought
by the shade.
Time to go, Espy--decide what we take, Raven ordered.
A pained look on her face, the Witch selected five tomes from the stack--enough
not to weigh her down dangerously--and placed them within her
pack.
I think those will be the ones of interest to you, Raven, she
indicated, pointing to a small stack of several books that she had not selected
anything from.
Lets form up again, people, Raven spoke out
loudly.
She watched to make certain the men had heard her, then reached down to retrieve
the books Espidreen had pointed out.
Thor, Raven then spoke as the Scandian moved up, could
I trouble you to pack these along?
The Norseman shrugged and turned round. Raven quickly lifted the flap of
his large pack and slipped the books inside. That done, she looked over to
Giles and Mac Tavish.
Move the tables back to their original position.
As the men took hold and separated the two tables, the Mistress of Freeport
gave her final command to the shade: Replace these books on the floor
on their proper shelves; do likewise with the maps.
The spirit immediately began to do as commanded, and Raven seemed satisfied
that nothing coming down here was liable to notice the groups incursion
apart from the disappearance of one of the shades.
Out to the zoo, and up to the fourth level! she
ordered.
Their spirits revived, the group now filed west, and as they came upon the
doors leading out, they now found something of interest: Crafted into the
wall next to the door lay a series of four golden rings, each within the
other, and each one scribed. The outer ring was scribed with some sort of
spell while the three concentric rings within it were instead scribed with
numbers ranging from 0 to 9.
Okay, what is that thing? Raven asked her Witches as they came
upon it.
The big ring is inscribed with the Sorcerers version of a
teleportal, Raven, Espidreen noted.
The Mistress of Freeport reached forward to touch the outer ring and found
that both it and the other rings were set into frames permitting them to
turn freely if one manipulated them. As it stood, the rings were set to
012.
Cyllindrethifl now spoke up.
Raven, do you remember we once speculated about how difficult the Liches
must find moving about the tower because they walk so slowly, and cant
use most spells to get around?
I do.
The Elf nodded back to the golden circles. I believe thats how
they do it. This is some sort of device permitting them to travel about the
School. I am guessing one turns the numbered rings to correspond to linked
devices in different areas, then perhaps you read off the spell and it will
portal you to the room in question.
Raven came erect. Then we could use this to reach the Throne room!
she exclaimed.
If we knew what number room it is, Espidreen added. It
could be any of up to nine hundred-and ninety-nine different chambers from
the looks of that thing. If I were to guess, maybe room zero-zero-one,
or nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine is the actual Throne
room.
Then again, thats rather obvious, Cyllindrethifl pointed
out, clasping her hands behind her back as she stared at the device. If
I were Nostradamus, Id make my throne any number but the highest
and lowest possible numbers to avoid the risk of intruders like us appearing
out of nowhere. That being so, we dare not try using this thing, relying
on dumb luck--the gods know where we could arrive, and what might be there
to greet us.
Agreed, Raven spoke with a clear note of disappointment. But
maybe....
Quickly, she rushed over to address the ghost, who was stuffing books back
into their respective places.
You, Raven ordered as she moved up, --there is some sort
of device over there on the wall with numbers on it, and I want you to fetch
anything which lists what those numbers correspond to, or which explains
how to operate it.
She then paused, waiting, but the shade ignored her and continued its
task.
That would have been too easy, Espidreen called after
her.
Well, Raven admitted as she walked back, it didnt
hurt to try.
Theres one of these down on the bottom floor at the foot of the
stairs, Doremi pointed out. I always did wonder what it was
for.
Raven frowned nervously. They dont have these down in the
Lower School, do they?
Weve never heard of one, Espidreen replied.
The Mistress of Freeport glanced to Doremi.
Ive never seen one there if they do, answered the
Bard.
They may have one anyway, Cyllindrethifl speculated. I
suppose theres no way for us to know for certain.
Raven was visibly concerned at the thought, and everyone knew why: Their
strategy depended on the Vikings keeping any reinforcements from coming to
Nostradamus aid, and if the forces below could bypass the two stairways
held by the Scandians, things could quickly go bad.
Well, no time to worry about that now, Raven spoke.
Lets Just keep moving and well reach the top of the tower
the hard way.
The Museum
After Thors encounter with the fist, they had Fosmo check for any magical
traps upon the doors leading west, but the Cutpurse found none. A second
check through a spell of Cyllindrethifls, just to be sure, confirmed
the thiefs assessment and so, with everyone satisfied it was safe,
the doors were opened to reveal the wondrous chamber beyond.
It was a vast open vault extending far beyond the light of their lockets.
A double row of carved pillars ran east and west down the length of the chamber,
towering forty feet up to its coffered roof. Beneath that roof a hundred
and one black shapes stood as quiescent sentinels. Most were hidden, their
shadowy forms melding in with the darkness, while a few were illumined by
the groups lockets. But they were all shown to be creatures, large
and small, from every corner of Islay. Everything from Arwinian unicorn-like
rabbits, to forest drakes, turtle toads, griffins, lions, trolls, Fomorian
ogres--even a small Krellan elephant!
One of the beasts before them was a small dragon around fifteen feet tall.
From two muscular legs upon which it stood upright as it balanced with its
tail, an almost beautiful conglomeration of yellowed scales and mottled hide
of green leather rose up to where two small, yet graceful, wings were
outstretched as if the beast were ready to fly. Finally, the dragons
green and yellow whip-like neck, easily as long as the rest of its body,
curved back in a great S-shape, ending at its open serpentine head where
three rows of razor-sharp teeth were prepared to rend apart their
victim.
Thor, Doremi spoke quietly.
The Viking looked back as the Bard pointed out the dragon.
Thats a snap dragon.
The Viking followed her gaze and took a good look at the beast, clearly
impressed. Flies, does it? he asked.
No, it has wings but cant fly. It jumps pretty good, though,
and that head of his moves so fast it can bite a persons arm off before
they even know it!
Thor grunted, looking around as if searching for something. Then his eyes
found what he sought and he directed Doremis attention to
it.
See that? he spoke, raising his hammer to point. Thats
the great ice bear of Scandia.
Sure enough, standing guard in a corner was a huge white-furred bear
in a terrifying pose, its black claws sprouting from paddle-like paws looking
ready to rend as effectively as the snap dragons teeth. Its mouth was
nowhere near as big as the snap dragons, but even so it looked well
able to stand its ground against a snap dragon, let alone a human
huntsman.
In Scandia, our enemies in Bear clan send their young men out of the
camp, four at a time, to slay one of those, the Norseman continued.
They may not return until they each have a paw to bring back as proof
of their victory in battle, then theyre considered men. They often
lose one or two of the warriors before the fight is over.
Doremi found the comment interesting--that was probably one of the many things
that accounted for the might of the Scandian people.
Does your own tribe have a right of passage like that, Thor?
she asked.
The Viking shook his head. Were not that stupid to waste the
lives of our young warriors like that. However, when a young man wishes to
marry a girl whose father objects, he sometimes goes out to retrieve the
sword of a famed enemy from the barrow mound of a dead Scandian to show his
courage.
Thor then turned and locked eyes with the Bard, adding ominously, And
half the time, its owner fights to keep it.
He left it at that and Doremi shivered at the thought, for shed encountered
barrow wraiths a time or two in Torrencia.
I wonder if they actually went to Scandia to get that bear,
Cyllindrethifl spoke up.
Raven, however, discounted the wonder of the many assembled creatures. What
was on her mind was the danger everything here might pose, for if
there was anyplace in the tower theyd yet seen that all but screamed
Im a trap--this was it!
People, she spoke quietly, lets stay focused and
stay careful. If this place comes to life all at once....
Her voice trailed off, but everyone could well understand the ramifications.
Theyd all encountered things like that in the past, and the thought
of every powerful creature in Islay short of a dragon suddenly descending,
en masse, on them was none too pleasant.
In response, Espidreen drew her hand across her eyes and then gazed up and
down and left and right, using a spell to see if any enchantments lay upon
the stuffed creatures.
Nothing, Raven, she reported. No enchantments upon the
creatures here. Only a slight aura of magic up ahead of us in the
shadows.
Curious about what the spell might have revealed, Raven, her sword ready,
edged forward, followed by the others.
Then they saw it.
Cyllindrethifl let out a sigh and tears formed in her eyes, for before them,
stuffed and mounted atop a pedestal of white marble, was a beautiful white
unicorn with a golden mane flowing down the sides of its short
neck.
What sort of evil could be so loathsome as to murder a unicorn and
stuff it like some trophy?! the Druid demanded to know. That said,
her sadness turned to anger and she drew forth a dagger. Then she began climbing
up upon the base.
That Liche deserves to die, and die slowly! Nightshadow muttered,
tightening his grip on his weapons.
The Mistress of Freeport watched as Cyllindrethifl climbed up upon the pedestal
and then reached out with her left hand to grasp the unicorns horn
while her right hand began sawing with the dagger.
Good idea, Cyl--that horns worth a lot, she
spoke.
Im going to take it back to Ashvryl and bury it in the Forest!
the Druid vowed as she pulled it free.
Raven and Espidreen looked at each other, and then Raven spoke
again.
Lets not be too hasty, Cyl.
Im not arguing with you, Raven--Im burying this horn, and
thats final! Cyllindrethifl answered as she jumped off the base
to the floor.
Cyl, the poor unicorn is dead--it wont miss its horn. We can
make at least one elixir of youth out of it! Now that may not mean
anything to you--
The Druid shook the horn at her mistress. The discussions over!
The Mistress of Freeport let out a sigh as Espidreen flashed her an
Its an Elf thing look.
Raven, Raven spoke aloud to herself, is there
anyone in Islay whose people give them as much back-talk as yours do to
you?
No, Raven, she answered herself, cocking her head the
other way, no ruler in Islay has to put up with as much rebellious,
back-talking servants as you do!
The Druid ignored the comment, crossed her arms, and deliberately turned
away, refusing to look at her mistress.
The only options were to kill the Elf or let her have her way, and killing
her wasnt an option, so Raven let out another sigh since further argument
was clearly pointless.
Fine, Cyl--if thats what you have to do!
Satisfied, Cyllindrethifl relaxed and knelt down to shove the horn into her
knapsack.
May I see it before you put it away? Doremi begged.
The Elf handed the horn to her and the Bard eagerly examined it, for shed
always wanted to see a real unicorn horn, and this was probably the only
chance shed ever have.
It was over a foot long, being a beautiful conglomeration of ivory and
gold wound together in a spiral ending in a sharp point.
Only a fool could doubt the magical potency of such a thing, and it was no
wonder Raven lusted after it. Such a trophy was near priceless.
What a crime, Doremi thought as she examined the horn, to kill
such a creature.
Thank you, she then spoke, returning the horn to the
Druid.
Cyllindrethifl placed the pack on again and stood up, returning to her place
next to Doremi.
The incident now behind them, Raven pointed the wakizashi to an imposing
set of marble stairs leading up to a landing that split left and right as
it continued up to the next floor. That way, people, she
spoke.
The group now began its climb, filing off to the left stairway as they made
their way up to the chamber above, leaving Nostradamus zoo
behind.
Leaning on the railing as she nervously ascended the sculpted marble steps,
Doremi peered upward into the darkness, aware that an attack could come at
any moment from an unseen enemy that wouldnt be noticed until
it made the first move. Yet still their luck held, for in a few
moments Nightshadow and Thor reached the top unopposed, and then the rest
followed to emerge in an enormous gallery equal in size to that of the zoo
beneath.
The moment their lockets began to illuminate the vaulted chamber, everyone
perceived this was another trophy room. But it was different, for rather
than holding trophies of creatures this room seemed to be a museum of
artifacts!
Scattered front to back about the stone floor were numerous strange objects,
the like of which they had never seen. To describe most of them would be
impossible, for few bore resemblance to the sort of items one might normally
find in Islay. In fact the only familiar thing that came to Doremis
eyes as she looked about was a clock, much like Desmores, although
it was divided into only twelve hours instead of twenty.
The room immediately attracted Ravens attention and she brought her
hand across her eyes, enacting the spell to detect the aura of magic objects
as Espidreen had done in the zoo below.
She was disappointed to find no aura of magic appeared within her spells
range as she looked about--except for the center of the vast chamber where
a blue aura of something was already clearly visible.
I think this is a museum, Espidreen remarked, though what
it holds is a mystery.
Raven, still looking about, spoke.
Cyl, is this stuff Elven?
The Elf slowly shook her head. There is nothing Elven here that Ive
ever seen, Raven. I have no idea what any of these objects
are.
Slowly, Raven looked back and forth, trying to form a conclusion about the
place.
Id like to take a look around this chamber before we go further.
In the meantime, Nightshadow, can you do something for me? she
requested.
The Rogue looked over and nodded.
Raven gestured to the stairs theyd just come up from.
Please take a run back to the Music room and have a peek outside--Id
like to know if the courtyard is still nice and empty.
All right.
Ill go with him t keep him company, Mac Tavish spoke
up.
She glanced to the Highlander and shrugged. Fine. The rest of us will
wait here--just dont waste time, and remember what stairs lead back
into the zoo from that maze of stairs!
Raven, is it wise to have Nightshadow leave us? Espidreen
questioned.
I think we can survive the brief time theyll be gone, Espy.
Well just keep on our toes, and if we have to, well to beat a
hasty retreat back downstairs.
Mac Tavish then nodded to Nightshadow and the duo started back down the stairs,
leaving the rest of the Fellowship to explore for a few minutes.
As they departed, Raven slowly made her way forward, looking about as the
others followed behind, equally fascinated by the oddities they
beheld.
Doremi noticed two things about the contrivances in the room: The first was
that most appeared to be machines, though what they did and how they worked
was beyond the scope of her knowledge. The second thing was that very little
was made of wood. Most things were of metal, or perhaps wood
and metal. What the significance was of that was lost to her,
but it was definitely strange to see so much metal work in the
objects.
The first wondrous device that particularly caught the Bards attention
was a very large brass horn--almost three feet long--that was crafted in
the shape of a flower bud affixed to an ornate wooden box atop which lay
a round black platter.
Pausing to examine the contrivance while the others drifted away from each
other as they continued forward, the Bard noted that upon the front of the
box lay an inscribed plate depicting a dog standing before a similar sort
of device. Above the dog, some letters spelled out a name.
A Wighead device, she concluded.
A crank was mounted on the side of the device and carefully Doremi turned
it but nothing happened, though she was sure it was attached to a spring
she could feel tensioning up. She then looked upon the top of the box to
observe that a shaft next to the black platter held a metal arm that ended
in a round disc made of metal and glass from which a needle stuck out. A
lever protruded out from under the round base holding the platter, and Doremi
pulled on it.
Immediately, the platter began to spin very quickly.
Cyllindrethifl, meanwhile, drew near to see what Doremi was fidgeting
with.
What is that thing? the Elf inquired.
Doremi shook her head. Its a Wighead device of some sort, but
for the life of me I dont know what it does. Its pretty, though.
I think the inventors name is Victor from the plate on the front
there.
Cyllindrethifl reached out to examine the arm and found that it swiveled.
Puzzled, she moved it back and forth, perceiving that it would make an arc
above the spinning black platter. Finally, she released it upon the
black platter to see what would happen, and the most marvelous thing began
to occur: As the needle touched it, loud music came out of the brass flower
bud!
It was not music like that which one might hear from a music box, but was
more like an entire orchestra playing very a very fast tune unlike any they
had heard before.
The startled women looked at each other in shock as they heard the sounds
of Raven and the others hurrying up.
What is that thing? the Mistress of Freeport demanded.
What did you two do?
Its some sort of Wighead device! Doremi spoke above the
din of the music. It makes music! Isnt it
wonderful?!
Well, make it stop--itll wake the dead! Raven shouted back.
Whats the matter with you?!
Quickly, Doremi shoved back the lever and the disc stopped rotating, the
music stopping as she did so.
Raven then settled down and let out a breath. Didnt I tell you
two not to touch anything? she hissed at them.
Actually, no, Raven, Cyllindrethifl replied as she thought about
it. I dont believe you gave a specific order to that
effect.
We didnt know it would happen, Raven, Doremi explained.
Besides, we were curious.
Ignoring Doremi, Raven addressed the Elf.
Cyl, this is a dangerous place to be curious in! I expect better from
someone three hundred years old!
Cyllindrethifl said nothing, but tightened her lips and looked down to the
floor.
Having properly rebuked the pair, Raven relaxed and again began drifting
west, followed by the others.
Raven, Fosmo spoke, looking off to the side as they walked,
whaddaya think that funny bird-thing over there is,
eh?
The Mistress of Freeport looked over to see what he meant, and gazed upon
a very strange object that had been tucked off in a dark corner of the room.
It was barely visible in the shadows, but they could observe it was far larger
than a bird, being about twenty feet long and half again as wide, roughly
fashioned in the general shape of an avian creature. Two sets of wings sprouted
from both sides of the contrivance, one set atop the other, held together
by some wooden supports. Whatever the thing was, it sat atop a pair of wheels,
suggesting it could be towed or pushed. From its front protruded two wooden
blades akin to those that might be found upon a windmill.
Curious, Raven diverted from her course for a closer look.
As they neared the bird-thing, it became apparent the contrivance was a
conglomeration of wood, green painted canvas, and wire, all made in such
a way to mimic some sort of a large bird, for there was a tail in addition
to the wings.
It struck Doremi that it might actually be a work of art rather than a
machine.
Raven finally reached it and paused before the contrivance, looking it up
and down, at a loss to comprehend its function.
Fosmo, having wandered off to the side, suddenly drew a dagger and from a
distance of about twenty feet away, heaved it forward with a THUNK into the
side of the thing.
Bullseye! he grinned, looking over to the others.
Ravens eyes narrowed. Whyd you do that? she asked,
puzzled at the move.
The Cutpurse pointed to the left side of the thing. Its got a
bullseye painted on it.
The group walked round the wings to look, and indeed beheld there was a target
painted upon the side of the device with Fosmos dagger solidly impaled
in its center. And not only that, but as Raven leaned over to look beneath
the bottom wings, targets were painted there as well.
Huh! Raven exclaimed, standing back up. I think this is
some kind of target
thing. You...tow it and shoot at it. At least,
thats my best guess.
Cyllindrethifl had been trying to understand what the device was and suddenly
her eyes opened wide in amazement.
Raven, do you think this could be a machine thats meant to fly
like a bird?! she asked excitedly.
The party expunged some sounds of amazement at the Elfs question, and
Raven looked up and down at the contrivance trying to form an
opinion.
I dont think so, she finally said, reaching out to grasp
the upper wing. Look, she added, shaking the wing up and down,
--the wing wont flap. Its built to stay stiff. How would
it fly?
I also think wed have heard if Nostradamus had invented a machine
that could fly, Espidreen remarked. Perhaps this is an example
of his failed attempt to invent such a device. As you say, those wings
dont look as if they can flap very well. I cant see why he want
to construct a machine to fly anyway--a spell is much
simpler.
But a flying machine could let him infiltrate the Second School as
we did with your flying ship, Romulus pointed out. Maybe thats
what he had in mind--using machines to invade the other
School.
The Cutpurse stepped up to retrieve his dagger. Eh, theres a
seat in it, he spoke, looking up.
The rest edged closer to see, and indeed there was a small seat above the
bottom wing where one might sit before a lever and some foot
pedals.
Curious, Fosmo stepped upon the wing and squeezed inside to sit
down.
Careful, Fosmo, Raven cautioned.
Sure is a tight fit, he muttered as he settled in. Eh,
you, he then spoke out to the machine, --fly!
He held his breath a moment but nothing happened, so Fosmo then experimented
with some of the contrivances controls, discovering that one could
cause portions of the wings and the tail to flap somewhat. He gave it everything
he had, but he simply could not get them to flap quickly enough to lift the
device off the ground, so after a time he gave up on this as well.
That thingll never fly, Raven, he concluded as he maneuvered
himself out of the tight fit of the seat compartment out onto the wing. Then
he jumped down to the ground.
I didnt think, she responded. Maybe this whole place
is just a graveyard of failed projects.
It was at this point that Doremi caught sight of another wonder a few yards
away.
Raven, she spoke, pointing, look at that beautiful
coach!
Beautiful
was the word, for as they looked to where she pointed they beheld the finest
coach any of them had ever laid eyes on. The coach was about ten feet long,
crafted of metal, not wood, and painted top to bottom in attractive shades
of green. A small cabin was housed at its center with just enough room for
two people. Large windows--set into varnished wooden frames--allowed one
a clear view out the front and sides of the cabin, and as the Fellowship
got close enough to see into it they noticed a sumptuous seat of black leather
that practically begged them to enter in and sit.
Four gleaming brass oil lamps were mounted at points in the fore of the coach
and, last of all, its wheels were covered by something akin to black leather
to make a quiet, comfortable ride.
At the very front, two brass letters revealed the person who owned the coach
apparently had the initials of RS.
Even Raven was impressed, exclaiming a Wow! as she admiringly
looked the coach over.
Thats a coach fit for a king, eh? Fosmo
exclaimed.
Or a Mistress of Freeport, Raven added.
Its missing the tongue, Espidreen observed.
Theres no place to harness it to a horse.
And how does one hold the reins? Cyllindrethifl
wondered.
Mayhaps it useth steeds that obey by command, the Knight
suggested.
Doremi by now had the coachs door open and was looking within. Spying
some pedals and levers on its floor, she spoke out, There are some
pedals here! Maybe you hook the reins to them somehow.
Curious, the Bard then climbed within and settled into the seat behind a
wooden wheel attached to a shaft sprouting from the fore end of the
cabin.
Theres a wheel here that turns, but it turns real hard,
Raven heard her say.
At the same time, those outside of the coach noticed the its front wheels
pivot slightly.
I think that swivels the wheels, Raven remarked, puzzled at the
coachs design.
Isnt the tongue supposed to do that when you tug on the reins
to turn the horse first? Espidreen asked.
It doesnt have a tongue, though, Espy. Maybe if we put one on
it, it would make more sense.
Cyllindrethifl leaned around the front, examining the coach. Theres
a crank on the front, Raven, she announced. Maybe if you turn
it, a tongue pops out.
Wondering if that was true, the Mistress of Freeport sheathed her sword and
came over, bending over to wind the crank, quickly noting that it was
surprisingly hard to turn.
Either it needs oiling or its hooked to some kind of spring,
she spoke, pausing. Then she stood up.
You know, I think this coach doesnt need horses--it uses a spring!
If you wind it up, I believe it will move on its own, and you maneuver it
from inside of the coach where Doremi is!
Wind it up and lets see! Doremi encouraged Raven from
inside.
Everyone, in fact, wanted to see, and Raven--no less curious--leaned back
down and turned the crank sharply.
For a moment, it made a whirring noise that stopped when she halted turning
the crank.
Definitely springs, she muttered. Feels like theyre
tightened, though. Are you sure theres no release or something in there,
Doremi?
Raven spun the crank yet again, and they could hear more of the whirring
sound. Faster and faster she tried spinning the crank, and then the most
incredible thing happened:
The coach seemed to roar to life!
It stunned everyone by making a horrible sound that took Raven by complete
surprise as she backed up in shock, eyes wide open. But this time the racket
didnt stop, continuing in a ghastly whirring, roaring, clattering and
coughing cacophony of sound that made the Wighead music device seem tame
by comparison! It was a noise so terrible that even Thor found himself backing
away in fear the thing would explode or else do some other dangerous
thing.
Raven, on the verge of panic over the thought that every Liche in the School
would hear the racket, cried out, Stop!
But the coach ignored her and Raven, in frustration, kicked one of its
wheels.
Quiet thyself! she shouted over the din as she drew her sword.
Be still, I say!
Still the coach kept up the racket, and Raven then began beating on it with
the wakizashi, hollering for it to be quiet.
The Bard, meanwhile, likewise worried the coach might somehow explode, began
scrambling to get out. Then Raven shouted at her to stay in.
Try and stop it, Doremi! Push the pedals or
something!
Not without a great deal of trepidation and misgiving, Doremi retreated back
in, looking down and around, with no idea of what pedal did what. Then she
started pressing pulling and turning everything she could see--but all she
did was somehow make the noise ever louder.
The coach seemed to quiet down somewhat as she pulled upon a lever, though
in doing so there came a horrid grinding sound from someplace. Thinking she
might be on to something, the Bard then pulled on the lever as hard as she
could while bracing herself with her feet.
The grinding sound continued, but suddenly the coach began to
move!
It lurched forward with a jolt, shoving Raven out of the way as it began
hurtling into objects on pedestals or things standing upon the floor as Doremi
tried desperately to halt it. Spinning the wheel, she turned it this way
and that, knocking things over, until finally it headed directly toward a
pillar of stone as wide as the coach itself.
The Bard closed her eyes, waiting for whatever was going to
happen.
She nearly went flying through the window as the coach finally smacked to
a stop, its regal front end collapsing in like an accordion.
But at least the contraption was silent again, and it didnt
explode!
Fortunately, Doremi wasnt hurt too badly and quickly the men were rushing
up, trying to help her out of the torn mass of metal and wood.
Raven was there too, brushing her hair aside, looking for any
cuts.
You all right? she asked, examining the Bard for any broken
bones.
I...I think so. I guess we shouldnt have fiddled with that infernal
contraption.
Raven let out a long breath and released her. I should have listened
to my own good advice. Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!
She looked about and then spoke up as the stragglers arrived. All right,
people--no one, including me, touches anything in this room that looks like
a machine! Leave it alone!
You think the Liches could have missed that noise? Romulus now
angrily asked.
Raven let out a frustrated sigh and hung her head. Were still
not even on the fourth story yet. If theyre in the tower itself, or
in one of the other buildings, then were still fine. If not, I suppose
well know soon. Either way, theres nothing we can do but go
on.
The Mistress of Freeport now looked around to the group, spreading out her
hands, trying to calm everyone down. Lets just stay focused and
move on, she spoke quietly and calmly. Fighters, keep an eye
out on the two stairways.
That said, she began heading for the glowing area at the center of the chamber.
The rest--nervous, but knowing she was right--followed along.
They hadnt gone far when Raven caught sight of something hidden against
one of the large pillars holding up the roof. Instantly, she pivoted about,
facing it as her hand thrust into her component pouch while the Knight rushed
in front of her to stand guard.
It was an iron golem!
No faster than it took to grab a black pearl, her hand was cocked, ready
to ether ball the construct. But the creature remained unmoving, giving
the Mistress of Freeport pause to think.
Espy? she spoke, keeping her eyes trained at the thing, prepared
to act at the first sign of life.
The Witch, fumbling for her scrolls, likewise paused when she beheld the
golem not so much as flinching at the groups presence.
I dont think its activated, Raven, she
concluded.
Shall we kill it anyway? Giles asked, his eyes fixed upon the
ten-foot statue of metal.
Raven shook her head. No--save the spells. If its not threatening
us, lets leave it alone. But be ready! Espy, if it so much as twitches,
cut loose at it.
Espidreen nodded as Raven cautiously backed away, keeping her eyes on the
golem.
Theres another over there, spoke Thor as he gazed off to
another pillar.
Sure enough, everyone spotted a second golem also standing sentinel in the
room, barely visible in the glowing blue light at the chambers center.
Like its mate, the golem stood stiff as a statue, apparently unconcerned
with the Fellowships incursion.
Now the fellowship was twice as concerned.
Lets just be careful, Raven urged. If they move,
we know what to do. Thank goodness theyre slow.
She then tucked the pearl in a pocket, shifted the wakizashi back to her
right hand, and made for the center of the chamber, which was now only a
few yards away.
Even from this distance they could see that the blue glow emanated from a
large circular depression in the floor that was forty or so feet wide. As
the group approached, they observed that a raised lip of stone encircled
the pit and inset within that lip were large crystals cut into the form of
Hocwrathian runes. Each pulsed with a feral light that changed color every
few moments from gold, to red, to an inky blackness, thereafter repeating
the cycle. Beneath these, inscribed in solid gold, ran what looked to be
Karnaki hieroglyphs! Finally, an ivory podium reached by a narrow silver
stair rose at the far end of the pit, positioned just above it, permitting
one to look down into the misty pit below.
They chose to draw no closer than ten feet from the pit as each took in a
good look, trying to guess the pits function.
I dont know what this thing is, Raven spoke, but
whatever it is, its important!
She glanced over to Espidreen who had stepped up to join her mistress, equally
fascinated with what lay before them. Well, Espy?
The Witch remained silent for a moment as she circled the perimeter of the
pit, trying to read the inscription. Im not certain, Raven,
she eventually replied. Some sort of conjuration pit, I think. I
dont recognize the spell and the formation of runes. I think theyre
using sorcery to invoke some sort of priestly magic if that makes any sense.
This seems to be a strange mixture of priestly and sorcerous
magic.
Why does that not surprise me? remarked the Mistress of
Freeport.
That thing could conjure up a pretty big demon from the looks of it,
Thor spoke, tightening the grip on his hammer.
Raven glanced to the Scandian and then back to the Witch. Is Thor right?
Could this thing conjure up a demon, Espy.
The Witch nodded as she stepped back to the others. The runes are
Sorcerer-tongue, but they must be an evocation to some demon. So far
as the hieroglyphs go, I do not understand their purpose, but the runes start
out with a beings name. I dont recognize it, though--its
S-S. Ssssssssss? she supposed, hissing out the word.
Sounds like yer a snake, eh, Fosmo joked.
Burglar, if you have nothing useful to say, then hold your tongue!
the Witch snapped back with a scowl.
Fitting name for a demon, Lady, Giles observed.
Espidreen ignored Giles remark and looked over Cyllindrethifl, asking,
That name mean anything to you at all?
The Elf shook her head. Its not the name of any demon Im
familiar withl. As Fosmo said, it sounds like some snake-like sound. Or,
it could be an S-H shound. Sh-sh?
Whats it actually say, Espy--the actual translation? Raven
now asked.
Espidreen returned her gaze to the pit, trying to decipher the
runes.
O S-S...who is seeing...the was...and the to-be...now open a
door.
No, thats not it, Doremi broke in. The two Ss
are a transliteration of the hieroglyphs, Raven. Its the Hocwrathian
way of writing the name of the Karnaki goddess Isis.
That could be it! Espidreen exclaimed. S-S is how
youd have to render Isis in Hocwrathian!
The Hocwrathian inscription I think is actually an attempted translation
of part of the hieroglyphs--a bad one too, Doremi added. I think
the hieroglyphs are some sort of spell they cant activate, and
theyve tried to duplicate it using their sorcery.
Raven now looked over to the Bard, clearly impressed. All right, what
do the hieroglyphs say, then? How would you translate them?
Doremi looked back, and began reading.
As I said, theres more to the hieroglyphs than there is to the
Hocwrathian spell, Raven. The hieroglyphs read: Isis, the Queen of eternity
is with me. What was commanded for Osiris, let that be done for me. O Isis,
who sees past and future, open now the gate.
Raven and Espidreen looked back and forth at each other and the
pit.
Thank you, Doremi, Raven finally spoke. Once again,
youve proven your worth on this quest. I dont know what any of
this means, but at least we have some clues to ponder.
Somewhat embarrassed at the public praise, Doremi nodded and fell
silent.
Either it gates something in or is used as some sort of
teleportal...or perhaps some sort of
scrying device, Raven, Espidreen speculated.
Meanwhile, Cyllindrethifl leaned in toward Doremi as Espidreen was offering
her opinion. Youre very fortunate to be able to read that ancient
tongue, she spoke. Would you be willing to teach me to read it
as well? We Elves love to learn languages.
Sure, Doremi answered back, smiling. Its not easy,
but I can try.
As Espidreen and Raven began speculating about the function of the pit and
whether it might be used as a means to portal into Nostradamus Throne
room, Doremis eyes caught sight of a large Karnaki statue of a skirted
warrior over by a wall.
Oh, look, she spoke to the Elf, theres a statue from
Karnak over there. Lets see if its got an
inscription.
The pair then wandered over a few yards away to investigate a large sandstone
statue of a muscular, spear-armed warrior with the head of a
hippopotamus.
Doremi chuckled. Hes funny-looking, isnt he? The inscription
on the base says, Who would seek to harm Pharaoh must face my
wrath.
For some reason the Elf did not smile, but gazed up to the face of the statue
for a long moment.
Rather frightening, isnt it? she spoke. Half animal-half
human. The Karnakis worshipped a lot of gods like that, didnt
they?
The Bard nodded. Oh yes, Anubis, Thoth, Seth--many of the Karnaki deities
were part animal. Strange, isnt it?
Cyllindrethifl turned away from the statue to lock eyes with those of the
Bard, looking very serious.
Do you know the background of why that was? she
inquired.
Doremi shook her head and looked back to the ten-foot-tall statue. No,
I suppose it was just their beliefs. Karnak, you know, was green in the First
Age. Perhaps the Karnakis were nature-worshippers of a sort who incorporated
aspects of nature into their worship.
The Elf said nothing in response, but gazed back at the statue in
silence.
Look--there are some more artifacts, Doremi observed, for stretching
back along the wall were assortment of Karnaki statues and artifacts, including
some unusual swords that looked like a queer combination of gladius and
sickle.
She and the Druid meandered west, examining some of the items. Then they
came upon a true treasure: a large stone sarcophagus which had within a coffin
of solid gold!
Thats a Pharaohs sarcophagus! Doremi whispered excitedly
to the Druid. They would wrap the dead Pharaohs in strips of linen
and then encase them in a coffin of gold housed in a stone sarcophagus. See
the way the gold is painted, especially in the face, to make it look more
like the actual Pharaoh?
Moderately interested, the Elf pointed to a flared headdress encircled by
a coiled cobra depicted about the head of the image. Is that the sort
of crowns their kings wore? she asked.
Um, yeah. They had several sorts, actually, but that was one of them.
I think its called a nemes. They had another called a
pschent, which I believe was a little like a hennin.
And they buried the Pharaohs in pyramids?
Or in tombs, depending on how wealthy and important a particular Pharaoh
was.
As they continued on their exploration, it occurred to Doremi that someone
had actually paid some thought to the way the museum was laid out, for rather
than being a dumping ground for unusual artifacts haphazardly placed wherever
they happened to end up, some related things were actually grouped together
in certain areas. For example, immediately following the Karnaki artifacts
they happened upon a selection of Krellan objects, notably a legion standard
and a set of Krellan armor along with one of their chariots.
I wonder why theyd have Krellan things here, Doremi spoke.
Whats unusual about those?
Cyllindrethifl was studying the artifacts closely as the Bard posed her
question.
Ill tell you whats unusual about them, she responded,
--theyre wrong. Theyre Krellan, but not
Krellan.
Puzzled by the comment, Doremis waited for the Elf to
elaborate.
Look at the legion standard, she said, pointing. See the
letters SPQR, thereon? It should be SPQK.
Sp-qk? the Bard spoke, trying to figure the word
out.
The Elf chuckled. They actually stand for three words:
senatus populusque Krellanus, which means the
senate and population of Krella. What SPQR stands for, I have
no idea. And look there, at the image upon the standard--two babies suckling
from a dog or wolf. Ive never seen anything like that on a Krellan
standard. Also, theres no scrollcase hanging from it.
Scrollcase?
Cyllindrethifl reached out and ran her hand along the top of the standard.
Legion standards have a scrollcase that hangs from them. In it, they
place documents recording any failures on the part of the legion. When a
particular legion has performed well and not earned any criticism, the scrollcase
is uncapped, which you can observe when they march. If a legion has somehow
tarnished its reputation, the scrollcase is capped, and at times the people
will pelt the soldiers with rotted fruit and vegetables when they see them
march.
The Elf looked into the Bards eyes. To tarnish the reputation
of the army is considered a great insult in Krella, and the offense is not
forgotten until fifty years have passed, or if the legion redeems itself
by some great act.
She returned her gaze to the standard. This is not Krellan--I believe
its Poliffian.
Whats that? Doremi asked.
Those were what the Krellans were before they became Krellans in the
First Age, Cyllindrethifl answered. Originally, their legends
say they came to Islay on ships after their home continent sank into the
sea. Back then, they were known as Poliffians. In time, Baltarus
father led a revolt, was killed, and his son completed the revolt. After
that, they were known as Krellans. That standard and the other artifacts
must date from the First Age.
Well, that might make sense, Doremi supposed. Since Krella
and Hocwrath were members of the Triad back then, perhaps they had some Krellan
artifacts left over here at the School from the First Age.
Yes, perhaps.
The pair continued on, passing another assortment of strange objects, until
they happened upon a section apparently devoted to odd clothing. Here were
hats and coats and other strange forms of attire, none of which they recognized,
but some of which were rather smart-looking.
They paused to make a closer examination.
Back at the pit, meanwhile, Raven had concluded that she wanted to try activating
the portal to see if it could be of any help to them.
Whered Cyl go? the Mistress of Freeport asked, looking
about. Lets get her over here, and try to figure out what this
does. Maybe we can portal straight into the Throne room!
Espidreen pointed to the southwest end of the chamber. She and the
Bard are over there, Raven.
Raven took in a breath to shout for them to return, but then paused, concluding
that would be too much noise.
Go get them, Espy, she spoke to the Witch, nodding toward them.
I dont want to holler in here.
As you wish, Raven.
The Witch walked off to gather the pair as Thor, keeping his eyes on the
eastward stairs, muttered, Nightshadow and the Highlander sure seem
to be taking their time, dont they?
Raven glanced to the stairs. They should be back any moment. If
theyd run into any fighting, Mac Tavish would have come back to get
us while Nightshadow fought whatever was there, Im
sure.
Some of the clothing was not only attractive; it was actually practical.
Doremi, for one, discovered a fine coat of leather with a comfortably warm
interior lining of shearling wool displayed upon a clothing stand. A matching
leather helmet came with it that featured a set of glass lenses in a frame
that could be placed about the head to keep the wind out of ones eyes.
The outfit was completed with a white silk scarf.
All in all, very useful, and smart as well!
Cyllindrethifl, meanwhile, removed her cloak and laid it aside to don a coat
of soft gray wool with golden brocade upon the sleeves and a double set of
brass buttons running down its length. A matching brimmed hat with a golden
wreath upon its front and pinned up along the side with a red ostrich plume,
came with it.
You look really nice, the Bard complimented.
Thank you; you do too. I wish there was a mirror
handy!
It seemed as if the Elf had only to ask, and Doremi caught sight of a large,
regal mirror, inset into the gold-leafed frame of a floor harp, standing
a few yards away.
Right there! she said, pointing.
Excitedly, the pair went over and dragged the mirror closer to the clothing
section, then stood before it, admiring themselves.
Oh! Cyllindrethifl suddenly exclaimed, withdrawing her hand from
a pocket of the coat. Mine has a gold coin in the pocket for luck,
she spoke, holding out her palm.
Indeed, there was a beautiful golden coin within her palm. It was
perfectly round--which was impressive--and showed a woman with a spear, seated
and holding out a scroll. Letters ringed the coin, but they were words the
Elf was unfamiliar with.
Cuh...coe...con...con-fay-de-rate sta-tees of am-er-ih-cuh, she
spoke, trying to phonetically read off the words inscribed upon the golden
disc.
Cyllindrethifl looked up, puzzled. Torrencian? Not
Krellan.
Doremi was equally mystified.
I know the word states. Dont know the other two big words,
though.
They turned the disc around and beheld an inscription of CSA which was identical
to the letters upon the front of the Elfs new hat. Beneath these were
the Torrencian numbers 20, and a strange word,
dollars.
The two decided to forget about the mystery of the coin and focus on the
more important subject of the sartorial splendor before them, and it was
then that Espidreen arrived.
Cyllindrethifl, Raven wants you back there, the Witch spoke as
she approached. She wants to try activating that portal and see what
happens.
All right, the Elf replied, turning round.
Espidreens eyes roamed back and forth between the two as she examined
their new attire. What are you two dressed up in? she
asked.
We found some wonderful new clothes! Doremi exclaimed, holding
open one side of the coat to show off the lining.
Oh?
Suddenly, interested, the Witch stepped up, taking a look about. Finally
her eyes fell upon a straw hat with a flat brim so wide it extended nearly
out to her shoulders, and she reached out to try it on.
This would be good in the sun, she remarked.
Espidreen then spied a rather interesting helmet that hung upon the wall.
It was a open-faced, black, with a golden eagle upon the brow and a spike
that stuck up through its top.
Off came the straw hat to be replaced by the helmet.
I like this helmet, she concluded, turning to admire herself
in the mirror.
There are some very interesting clothes here, Doremi
remarked.
Nice hat, Espidreen then spoke to the Elf. I think the
big feather really makes it distinctive. It would be a good hat for a
ball.
I favor it as well. In fact....
The Elfs voice suddenly trailed off as she looked past the other
two.
Oh-oh, here comes Raven, and shes mad, she muttered under
her breath, trying not to move her lips.
Espidreen and Doremi then made the mistake of instinctively turning round
to observe Raven stalking toward them--which clued Raven in on the fact that
Cyllindrethifl had warned them about her, making her twice as angry as she
already was. They could tell that as she paused for a moment in mid-stride,
then ground her teeth together and let out a breath as she
approached.
The three didnt have long to wait for the rebuke.
I cant get you to stay focused for three hours before
youre running off after new clothes! she spoke in
disgust.
Cyllindrethifl tightened her lips and said nothing.
Raven, I just thought--since I dont have a helmet-- Espidreen
started to say.
Dont you dare start, Espidreen! Raven responded sharply.
I sent you to fetch these two, and instead you ran off to play dress-up
with them!
And you, she then exclaimed, looking to the Bard, who
was peering back at her through the framed glass lenses, --take that
ridiculous thing off! You look like a bug-eyed fish! Dump this stuff and
get back over to the pit--and I mean now!
Having given her orders, the Mistress of Freeport angrily turned her back
to the three women in disgust, muttering to herself.
When Raven was out of earshot, Cyllindrethifl whispered, She takes
life much too seriously.
I heard that! they heard her say in the distance.
Raven was returning back to the pit, but then she halted, standing transfixed
before something. She didnt move for several moments--long enough for
the three to retrieve their bundles and approach close enough to observe
her standing frozen before an odd set of armor that was propped up upon a
stand.
A Samurai, they heard her mutter in a tone that was a
mixture of awe and surprise.
Doremi realized the armor resembled bits and pieces from the blacksmiths
shop. But instead of being made of metal like normal armor, this oddly formed
suit was crafted from rows of lacquered iron or wooden plates laced together
with beautiful silk cords, giving the armor a variety of colors from black,
to red, to gold, to green. A black iron helmet, similar to the one the Bard
has seen on a workbench, crowned the set of armor and likewise was crafted
in a form akin to the scowling face of a demon in front with an articulated
lobsters tail behind. Below the waist, the armor was scant, being only
a few pieces of plates covering a pair of silken pants.
All in all, attractive and lightweight, though how much protection it actually
gave was certainly debatable.
Strange armor, Doremi remarked. Is that what they wear
in Yamato, Raven?
Yeah. Its called yoroi, Raven whispered. How
could he have gotten it?
She reached out to withdraw a katana from its sheath, her eyes examining
it closely as gloved fingers ran their way along its blade. Then, in one
lightning fast move, she brought both hands together and whipped the sword
around in several fast slashes until she ended the sequence with her arms
extended and the weapon held out before her.
How could he have gotten this? she whispered again.
Obviously flustered, Raven leaned forward and slipped the sword back in its
sheath, forcing herself to regain her composure. But then she stiffened
again.
Hey--where did you ever hear about Yamato? she now demanded of
the Bard.
Uh...Nazier mentioned it, Doremi found herself
answering.
Doremi could tell from the look on Ravens face, and the irritated breath
she expunged, that Nazier was really going to catch it from her. But it was
too late--shed let the cat out of the bag.
Come on, Raven now ordered, again making for the pit.
They quickly found their way back to the misty pit, where the warriors still
stood guard. As the three women came up behind her, Raven patted one of the
silver railings of the stair sweeping up to the platform as she looked back
to them.
Cyl, she spoke, I want you to get up there, read the spell
off, and try to activate this thing. See what it does.
The Elf blinked once, then looked back and forth between the pit, the platform,
and her mistress.
Raven, she balked, if you think fiddling with
machines is dangerous, trying to activate an enchanted portal we
dont understand carries with it infinitely more risk!
True, but youre skilled enough that Im certain you can
handle the power of this spell, the Mistress of Freeport reassured
her. Give it a try. If it becomes too much, just back
off.
What if something dangerous comes through and
attacks?
Cyl, do you really think theres anything can come through that
the fighters and I cant handle? Go to it!
Nervously, the Elf gave in and tentatively began ascending the narrow silver
stairs until her slippered feet stepped upon the circular ivory platform.
She rested her hands upon the rails, and then, concentrating, began to
speak:
O Isis, who is seeing the was and the to-be, now open a
door, she spoke in Hocwrathian.
As the words left her lips, the Hocwrathian runes on the outer perimeter
of the lip began glowing and pulsating. Brighter and brighter they glowed
until they seemed to cause the golden hieroglyphs beneath them to burn with
magic fire as the mists within the pit began swirling. Everyone there could
feel the magic power surging through the pit. Then the mists seem to pull
back, leaving in their wake a blackness...a void through which they could
see nothing but stars.
Suddenly the Elf grew stiff as a board, and froze.
Can anyone still see or hear me? she asked.
Yes, several of the group answered at once.
Whats happening, Cyl? Raven demanded.
They observed the Druid turn her head this way and that as if looking around--but
clearly there was something wrong.
Im in a dark place, she spoke. Its like being
in a cave. Its all black, but for a ghostly path before me that leads
to stairs going down someplace.
See if you can walk down them, Espidreen urged.
The Elfs feet didnt stir, but from the vacant look on her face,
they knew that something was happening.
Tell us what you see, Cyl, Raven now spoke, leaning toward
her.
Im going down the stairs...there are--images--starting to appear
about me.
What sort, Cyl?
Places, I think, Raven. I cant see them well...and I hear
voices...thoughts, I believe. The Liches thoughts! Raven, his essence
pervades this place! I dont like it!
Cyllindrethifl began taking in shallow breaths. His thoughts are deafening
. I...I cant concentrate...so many thoughts...so much anger and hatred.
I dont like this, Raven--I wish to leave.
Cyllindrethifl, try to concentrate and isolate the voices, Espidreen
spoke up, trying to aid her. If that doesnt help, relax and empty
your mind.
Everyone could see the Elf struggling with whatever she was experiencing,
but after a few moments Cyllindrethifl seemed to relax.
Its a little better now, she whispered. The thoughts
are rushing through my mind...like raindrops falling. I...feel them more
than I hear them.
Giles moved near to Raven. Lady, this may be dangerous, he whispered.
Pray, let the Elf withdraw, lest she run afoul of some danger and we
be unable to help.
Raven waved him off and spoke again as she leaned back toward the
Druid.
Cyl, focus on one of the images and tell us what it is. Do you think
its an area of the School we can portal to
somehow?
Cyllindrethifl seemed not to fully hear as her head began to hang low as
if she was falling asleep.
He comes here, she spoke quietly. He comes here to see
the future. But he doesnt understand it.
The Elf paused for a moment, and then she spoke again, but this time
differently.
Magic is gone...it must be the Third Age, she whispered
in a throaty baritone. Have we failed to stop it? How then, has
Jewel survived?
Within the pit, the mists now began to clear and the group beheld a vision:
It was of Krellans fighting other warriors.
The Krellans have survived, but who are they fighting?
they heard the Druid ask.
The vision now began to change and the Fellowship observed great sailing
ships battling each other with thunder sticks--just as Raven had imagined
they could.
Cyllindrethifl, meanwhile, began to slip in and out coherency.
Is this another dimension or another time? Are there other
worlds besides Jewel?
He doesnt understand it, she repeated in her own voice
once more. He watches, but he doesnt
understand.
Then she began to slip away once more. The machines must never be
made. We cannot allow the Third Age to start. If magic remains, we are safe.
Magic must not die.
The Elf began to slump forward slightly. Clearly she was
weakening.
Throckmorton, they heard her say. He hates Throckmorton.
He must destroy Throckmorton. His hatred for Throckmorton consumes
him.
Now her face began to contort in rage as she began taking in deep
breaths.
Why can I not destroy him?! she hissed. Every
move countered...every plan foreseen. I must be free of this
chain!
Then her own voice returned. He cant overcome Throckmortons
magic, Raven.
Again her face contorted, and she began to hiss in rage.
I will take the risk. I will use machines to destroy him. Then I
will destroy the machines and magic will survive....
Cyllindrethifls eyes closed shut as she leaned forward and swallowed
hard, trying to regain control. He...brings...the machines back here,
through the portal, Raven. The machines...theyre from the
future.
The Mistress of Freeport jumped at her words and quickly mounted the steps
up to the platform until she stood behind the Elf.
How far in the future? she asked, leaning forward to
her.
Blinking and still confused by her surroundings, Cyllindrethifl seemed to
look up and about at the various images near her, trying to focus in on
them.
He cant overcome Throckmortons magic, Raven, came
the response. He brings the machines back here through this portal,
hoping to find one that can destroy Throckmorton. He...he...can see further
than he can reach. He can only reach so far to bring things back. If he reaches
further, he cant control what comes back and it weakens him too much.
He learned how to make the thunder sticks by watching the future and
bringing one back. But he...he cant reach all the way
forward.
Her voice trailed off as the scenes in the pit began to change. The group
now beheld horrible things: men battling each other with
thunder sticks, machines that could fly, spitting out fire at
each other, great towers that soared high as the tallest mountains, huge
armies marching....
Something about the machines, Raven, she went on. He fears
them, yet he still uses them. But he cant bring all of them back yet.
Every year brings him closer to the point he can bring back horrible machines
that can kill for him.
She was quiet a moment and then spoke once again.
I see a huge metal bird that people fly inside of. Theres a metal
egg in the birds belly he thinks can destroy Throckmorton. I see it--it
looks like a big metal teardrop with writing and numbers on it...but he
cant grasp it yet. Hes waiting until he can reach out and bring
it back here. It will only be a few more years.
If you can read it, tell us what the writing says, Espidreen
urged.
This ones for T-O-G-O...I dont know the
word, came the Elfs answer. The Liche is obsessed
with these machines, she repeated once more. Yet he still fears
them. He...he thinks machines will cause a new Age to start. He fears them
because if the Third Age starts, Gorus will return. As long as...magic is
strong...Gorus wont return. Hell risk using the machines against
Throckmorton, but then hell destroy them so the Third Age cant
start.
Now her voice began to soften somewhat, and it was as if she was addressing
someone.
We must turn our minds to a task beyond any that has ever been
undertaken in Islay. To do that, I require all of you to become as I, that
your minds may be used to their full potential.
Cyllindrethifl took in a deep breath and her face tightened into a scowl
again.
A machine must be made, she hissed out again. This
is the key. With this Karnaki enchantment, we can use our sorcery and build
a machine. Then we cannot be stopped. It will be my ultimate
triumph!
The Elfs breast now began heaving in quick breaths as she further weakened
and swayed back and forth, trying to stay on her feet.
Hes angry, she muttered. He has it, but he cant
use it. Why does everything I do fail at its moment of triumph? Why will
not it simply work as I wish?!
Now her voice changed once again, almost sounding pleasant.
Take that which is of your folk with my blessing, the
now heard the Elf say. That which is Hocwrathian or of Humankind
shall be our portion--with those others in your fellowship recompensed well,
of course.
Cyllindrethifl paused again for a moment and then let out a horrid scream
of rage. You promised It and brought me nothing! Incompetent fool,
think not that I care so much about Prophecy that I wont slay you where
you stand! Fine--we shall employ a different plan. There is a legend in
Arwin.
She fell silent as the pictures continued changing, then she spoke
again.
I sent you for an Artifact and you bring me a helmet?!
she roared. Again you fail me!
Then she paused for a moment.
Wait...wait...there is a better way, she said with an
evil whisper.
Then she chuckled malevolently.
We will let It come to us. Now watch and see a Master at
work.
The Elfs voice now softened as if she were having a pleasant conversation
with someone. It is my wish she be assisted in her studies--and
also that she not know I am watching her.... Merely a pawn I am developing.
Nothing more.... Thank you--old friend!
It was finally too much, and Cyllindrethifl fell back into Ravens arms,
the visions in the pit vanishing. Quickly, the Mistress of Freeport backed
down the stairs and laid the Elf out to restore her strength while the others
rushed up to help. Only Doremi held back, the Elfs words still burning
within her. For some reason she suddenly had a very unsettling feeling that
she was the person being referred to in Cyllindrethifls last
statement, though how and why that could happen was a mystery.
Espy, Raven called out, a healing elixir!
The Witch instantly reached into a loop of her belt to retrieve a vial, and
she unstopped it, pouring the contents down the Elfs throat.
Cyllindrethifl began taking in deep breaths, and after a few moments, the
color returned to her.
I dont remember all of it, Raven, she spoke. But
Nostradamus uses this portal to see into the future. The things in this room
all come from the future.
Raven nodded. Yes, Cyl--you told us that.
I saw horrible things from the future, Cyllindrethifl spoke,
looking up to those gathered round her.
The Mistress of Freeport nodded. We saw them too. I think this portal
shows things that might happen, not necessarily things that
must happen. Dont you worry, well take steps to subvert
all this.
When I was in the darkness, I imagined a chess board, the Druid
continued, taking in fast breaths. One game, many players--each deceiving
the other, like puppets on a string, and kings about to
fall.
Cyllindrethifl now sought Ravens face and swallowed hard. I think
the may Liche know were here, and hes waiting for us up in the
tower! Waiting like a spider in its web...waiting because he knew, sooner
or later, that we would come here.
Ravens face fell, her look becoming solemn. Do you know that
for sure? she asked quietly.
The Druid shook her head. No...its just a feeling. A feeling
that hes expecting someone--sometime--to come here and attack him,
and so hes prepared himself.
Raven seemed to relax a bit. Thats just prudence, she spoke.
A prudence thats no different from my own security measures back
in Freeport. It doesnt mean he knows were here right
now.
You might be right, Raven. I dont know if he is aware specifically
about us, and whether he knows were here right now, but I do
know one thing: hes angry at
you, she spoke.
The Mistress of Freeport was taken by surprise. Me?
Why?
You did something in the past. Something bad. I kept hearing his voice
in my head saying over and over again, We were wrong! We were wrong!
And I knew he blamed you for something. He wishes he had destroyed you long
ago, because now its too late.
Hah! Raven laughed. Theres a legion of my enemies
who realized that too late as well! But hes right--it is too
late for him to stop me. I just wonder what I did that set him
off.
He thinks Gorus is coming back because of you.
Raven let out one of her famous breaths.
Oh, for goodness--I am so sick and tired of hearing that bunk,
she spoke. Hes not coming back, and even if he did, wed
just destroy him all over again.
The Elf, her strength returning, now rolled over and tried to stand, assisted
by the Knight.
I dont know why the Hocwrathians have that odd tradition about
his return, Cyllindrethifl went on, looking into Ravens eyes.
We destroyed him; he cant come back.
And even if he did come back, Cyl--this isnt the First
Age! He doesnt have any followers left; theres no more Triad.
The Krellans wouldnt follow him, I guarantee you that! The Schools
of Hocwrath--led by Nostradamus who wont give up his throne--would
come after him. The Torrencians would come after him. Id come
after him. Nightshadow would come after him. The whole continent of Islay
would come after him. Hed be one wizard against the whole world, and
there are a whole lot more wizards now than there were ten thousand years
ago. He wouldnt last three days!
Thor, standing over them, was still fidgeting nervously. Then he caught sight
of something and looked up.
About time! he exclaimed, looking back to the front of the
chamber.
The others turned back to observe their fellow party members, illuminated
by the light of their lockets, ascending the set of stairs the group had
entered by.
Well? Raven questioned as she moved to meet them.
Nightshadow halted. Empty, everyone heard him speak. Nothing
in the courtyard.
Well--so far, so good then, Raven concluded. Lets
move on up.
So whats this thing? Nightshadow asked, nodding toward
the portal.
Raven looked back, pondering the best way to answer the question. Another
way the Liche tries to divine the future, she finally replied.
Lets be moving.
The Time Machine
The group filed returned to their order of march, advancing westward to the
staircase at the far end of the room. They climbed up and to the right, and
in only a few moments they found themselves at the fourth and last level
of the towers base. Here, a vast hallway led east, and down it they
went, making for the final passages their map showed would take them into
the tower itself .
They hadnt moved far from the stairway when Nightshadow paused to stare
at the wall to their left.
What do you suppose is in there? they heard him ask.
Raven glanced over to the featureless wall and gave a shrug. More
libraries? she supposed. Who knows?
Nightshadow seemed surprised at her answer and lifted one of his swords toward
it. You dont think that door is hiding something
good?
What door? several of the group said in
response.
That big brass door! he responded, puzzled at the Fellowships
response.
Raven, equally puzzled, looked back at the wall, then she shut her eyes,
concentrated, and opened them up again.
Illusion! she exclaimed.
Now most of the others began imitating her move, shutting their eyes and
emptying their thoughts to try and overcome the phantasm that was apparently
affecting them.
Thor, however, had no experience with such things, and wondered what was
happening.
What are you all doing? he asked, taking a step back towards
the group.
Theres an illusion on that wall, Raven exclaimed, pointing
to it. Its hiding a big door. Shut your eyes, clear your mind
of any thoughts for a moment, and then look at it again.
Theres a what on that wall? he asked.
Just do what I said--youll see.
Thor didnt fully understand, but nevertheless he complied. When he
opened his eyes again, the Vikings expression revealed he also now
saw the door.
Fosmo, however, wasnt having as much luck.
Me dont see nothing but wall, he exclaimed.
Raved reached over and slapped him across the back of his head.
Try it again!
Ouch! the Cutpurse exclaimed, rubbing his scalp. Then he concentrated
once more, and now he could see what they all could: a great door of brass
over a foot taller than Thor and almost thrice the width of his shield. It
varied from other portals theyd come across as it bore no ornamentation
but was instead a combination of both a machine and a door, for a thick glass
panel upon its front covered a complex series of gears, springs and levers
attached to thick brass rods extending three directions into its massive
frame, solidly anchoring the portal in place.
Whatever lay behind the door was clearly important!
Some kind of vault door, Espidreen speculated.
Treasure vault, y think? Fosmo asked,
excitedly.
Maybe so, Raven muttered as she appraised the door. The
vault doors at the Guild arent as elaborate as this. This could hide
something priceless. It could be one of the main treasure
vaults!
I think we have just discovered an ability of your Talisman,
Nightshadow, Cyllindrethifl now spoke up as the Rogue looked over to
her. Apparently, it renders you immune to illusions.
The masked warrior nodded silently.
Lets kill the Liche before we loot his treasure,
Thor spoke, anxious to be off. Thats the plan,
right?
Yes, but there may be something in here we can use to
help kill the Liche, was Ravens reply as she licked
her lips. Lets see if we can get it open.
The possibility of ingress was suggested by a large keyhole positioned on
the right side of the door, and Raven gestured toward it.
Okay, Fosmo--this is what youre here for. Go to
it.
The Cutpurse flashed an eager grin as his hand moved down to his belt to
retrieved his pouch of lock-picks, and quickly he knelt down before the door,
preparing to pick the lock.
Everyone back off in case some sort of spell goes off that incinerates
anyone in front of the door, Raven cautioned, stepping away.
The comment certainly dimmed Fosmos enthusiasm, for its true
that magic traps are often difficult to find and remove compared to mechanical
ones. Even so, he knew that, but this was his job, along with the risks that
came with it.
Others in the Fellowship heeded Ravens words, and Doremi joined
Cyllindrethifl in retreating a few feet back down the eastern stairs to duck
behind a banister while keeping the door in sight so both could safely see
what was happening.
Raven, sword ready, stood before her while Nightshadow, unafraid, remained
at Fosmos side as the thief began jamming picks into the aperture,
trying to manipulate the loch mechanism.
Problems arose immediately, for no sooner would the Cutpurse get a pick
positioned to move one tumbler, then the pick would fall free as he tried
to add the next. This went on for a while as he tried, unsuccessfully, to
pick the lock.
Finally Ravens patience gave out.
Come on, Fosmo--youre better than that! she exclaimed from
the head of the stairs.
Not a normal lock, he answered back. Keeps pushing me picks
out!
Raven, Cyllindrethifl called out from where she knelt down next
to Doremi, it may need an enchanted key. It may not be
pickable.
The Mistress of Freeport stepped forward, thrusting the wakizashi into its
sheath. Move! she ordered.
A moment! Mell get it! Fosmo was saying.
I said move!
Raven knelt down, jostling the Cutpurse out of the way, and whipped off her
gloves in frustration. Then she began shoving picks in, trying to manipulate
several at once between her thumb and fingers as she attempted herself to
pick the lock.
Doremi nearly fainted from shock. I dont believe it--there are hands
under those gloves!
But Ravens attempts bore no better fruit than those of the Cutpurse,
and after a while she gave up and stood to her feet, slipping her gloves
back on.
Cyl, she spoke, looking back to the stairs as Fosmo reclaimed
his picks, try and use a spell on this thing. I want that door
open.
The Elf obliged and rose up, focusing her concentration on the door.
Cyllindrethifl then extended her right hand and folded in her fingers as
if she was trying to manipulate a key, and for several moments she made the
attempt, but nothing happened and the door remained closed. Her continued
efforts fruitless, she abandoned the attempt and shook her head.
No affect, Raven. The lock is beyond me.
Her mistress wasnt ready to give up, however, and re-examined the door,
trying to think of some new strategy to use.
Nightshadow now took the opportunity to try and force it open, but though
he put his shoulder into it, the door didnt so much as
shake.
Even the huge grate at the back of the complex seemed easier to budge than
this contraption.
Maybe if we break the glass we can force those gears to open it up,
Raven proposed.
The suggestion seemed made to order for Thors hammer, and the Viking
moved up to give the door his full attention. He reached out and ran his
hand along the surface of the glass, then tapped it, trying to gauge whether
it could be shattered.
I think I can break the glass, he concluded.
Wait, Thor, Raven now spoke as she moved toward him.
Lets try to muffle the noise. She then glanced toward her
champion and said, Giles--can we use your cloak for a
moment?
The Knight quickly sheathed his sword. Then he removed his pack, unclasped
his cloak and stepped forward to hold it up against the surface of the
glass.
Thor responded with a quick rap against the cloak but nothing happened, though
the glass vibrated from the force of the strike. The Norseman glared at the
door with surprise--then he reared back and struck the glass with all his
strength.
Again, the surface of the pane vibrated, but as they pulled away the cloak
to look, not so much as a crack was seen.
Nightshadow laid one of the scimitars against the wall.
Let me try, Thor, he suggested.
Still irritated at the doors resistance, the Viking removed the loop
of the hammer from around his gauntlet and passed the weapon over to his
friend.
Forget the cloak, Nightshadow spoke as he took up position before
the portal.
Giles stepped away, returning the cloak to his shoulders, and Nightshadow
took aim at the exact center of the glass, whipping the hammer around in
a great arc to strike the surface with all the strength he could put into
it.
The glass bent inward slightly with the blow, but again it remained unyielding
as the Rogue lowered the hammer, equally taken by surprise at the portals
resilience.
Me dont think were gettin in there, Raven,
Fosmo spoke up. If Nightshadow cant even break through,
eh.
It was indeed starting to look that way.
Okay, Ill give it one last try, Raven now spoke up.
Perhaps my magic can overcome it.
The Mistress of Freeport positioned herself before the portal and began to
imitate Cyllindrethifls spell, seeking to manipulate the lock through
her own sorcery. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. But as she concentrated
and continued, there came a faint sound of metal rubbing against metal as
the tumblers seemed to respond.
I think Ive almost got it, Raven whispered.
Above, the Liche was taken by surprise at the power of Ravens spell.
It went without saying that no normal wizard might have hoped to overcome
the sorcery used to lock that door, but this Witch clearly was something
out of the ordinary. Instantly, Nostradamus sensed the level
of power directed at the door from her was at least equal to his own--if
not superior--and quickly he resorted to the power of the throne to withstand
and counter her spell. Even at that, he barely managed to keep the lock from
submitting to her, but the spell did fail.
But now the Liche was left with concern: How could this females magic
function at a level of power so great, and what were the implications of
that? Among Humans, including half-elves, no 20th-circle Witch had been known
to walk Islay since the First Age, so how could this upstart pirate from
Freeport boast such power?
The conclusion was that she possessed some sort of
Artifact of Power that either enhanced her spell-casting abilities,
or else granted those powers to her.
Either way, he intended to find out and make use of her secret before he
was done.
Raven let out a breath, and rubbed the sweat off her brow. Couldnt
do it--but I nearly did! she exclaimed in frustration.
Looks youll have to take the key from the Liche and come open
it later, Thor spoke, retrieving the hammer from Nightshadow
.
Apparently so, she reluctantly agreed, looking toward the darkness
beckoning from the east. We may as well continue.
As all these things had been going on, Doremi found herself inching forward
to watch, fascinated at the resilience of the portal.
Want me to give it a try? she now asked, stepping forward, resting
her hand on Faire-chlaidh-ceols strings.
From a few yards away, Espidreen snapped her head over with a typical scowl.
If Ravens magic cant do it, what makes you think
yours possibly could?
I dont know that mine can open it, Doremi went on
as she came to a halt. But my magic isnt the same as yours. I
use sound, not sorcery, to open locks. Its wholly different
from the type of magic you and the Sorcerers here use.
Doremi has a point, Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke up from the stairway,
looking over to Faire-chlaidh-ceol. They might not have
ensorcelled the lock against Bardic magic. She should make the
attempt.
Raven glanced over to Espidreen and then back to the Bard.
Go ahead, Doremi.
Doremi nodded and then asked for silence as she shut her eyes and focused
her concentration upon the lock. She then began to pluck the lute, her fingers
changing positions as she sought to match the resonance of the
tumblers.
An F sharp, she muttered.
The Bard made that note three times just to be sure, and each time she could
feel one of the tumblers vibrate in response.
Yes, an F sharp.
She continued on strumming and plucking, experimenting with different notes
and chords until she could detect the next tumblers
response.
A C chord....up a quarter step and then down a major third to
E....
This is a complete waste of time, Raven, Espidreen insisted,
hands on her hips.
But Doremi knew she had it and quickly she began to play the same chords
over and over, and faster and faster, until the lock was vibrating in unison
with her instrument.
Then they all heard the CLICK as the tumblers fell into place, and the door
began to activate!
Within, springs started unwinding, gears started turning, and levers started
moving as the rods began withdrawing from the frame and sliding back into
the door. One by one, they slid down and locked into place with loud THUNKS,
and finally the door fell silent as the last rods withdrew from the right
side of the frame.
The Liche nearly went berserk. Of everything in the School, this was the
one place it didnt want anyone entering under any circumstances--and
now a lowly Bard had overcome the most powerful enchantments the First School
was capable of creating to walk right in!
The invaders have managed to enter the Kronosium, Nostradamus
spoke into the air, his voice carrying down to the hidden Conclave. Use
the portal generator to reach the temple, then assemble and attack
them there despite the risks and disadvantages. The Machine must be protected
at all costs!
Instantly, the Conclave responded, enacting shift spells to leave
their hidden positions and materialize before a portal generator in
the temple below them as they prepared to carry out the order.
The first Liche to reach the generator extended a bony arm and manipulated
the numbered rings until they read 401. Then the creature spun the outer
ring, and the runes inset upon its surface began glowing as faster and faster
turned the ring on its own power until the runes seemed to come alive with
magical energy. Then came a WHOOSH and a pentagram-shaped field of energy
appeared on the floor.
Ravens eyes narrowed as she looked to Espidreen. Outstanding,
Doremi! she exclaimed, giving the Witch a cold stare.
With that, Espidreen at last seemed to get it through her thick skull that
she should stop harassing and criticizing the humble Bard who twice now had
made a valuable contribution to the party when the Witch herself had done
little more than show how fast she could run when faced with poison gas or
attacking rats. Thus, Espidreen looked down to the carpet with a mixture
of anger and embarrassment, making no further comments.
Raven wasnt the only one proud of Doremi either.
I agree--that was outstanding! Nightshadow spoke up. Then the
Rogue reached out to grasp the side of the door and slowly he pulled the
massive portal open.
Cyllindrethifl winked at the Bard and then waited to see what would be revealed
as Nightshadow pulled open the door.
Others now edged around to get in a good look as well, anxious to see what
lay within--but they were quickly surprised if not outright
disappointed.
Instead of gleaming piles of treasure, arcane books too valuable to even
risk placing in the Athenaeum, or priceless enchanted items--they beheld
a vast wizards laboratory or workshop.
Spread out before them in the well lit chamber lay a conglomeration of tables,
workbenches, shelves, bookcases and racks filled with the accouterments of
Wizardry: beakers, books, parchments, tomes, balance scales, conjuration
circles and so forth. But beyond these normal things stood a variety of other
objects that could only be called machinery of various sorts. Two
huge discs of quartz, positioned upright upon thick shafts, ground against
each other by means of some spell, and by this created electricity, as suggested
by two copper coils attached to them gave off sparks of lightning.
Elsewhere, metal panels stood against walls, hooked by thick stranded cables
to other panels or plates of iron wrapped in copper coils, the whole
conglomeration eventually weaving a web of cables and wires up to the very
top of the chamber.
The whole area seemed alive with the force of magic, from the tables piled
high with parchments and tomes, to a set of long silver poles near the quartz
discs between which sparks of electricity danced as they hummed like a hive
of bees.
What stood out most, though, was a large glass sphere floating above the
floor of the chamber. Within was entrapped--a something: a black,
cloud-like creature that ebbed and flowed within its confines with neither
head nor limb nor body.
Raven took a quick look up to verify nothing was ready to swoop down on them
from the ceiling fifty feet above, and then she glanced back to the group,
her eyes seeming to settle on Doremi.
Nobody touch anything! Nobody break anything! she
warned.
Wait! Nostradamus now hissed to the Conclave as he relaxed slightly,
loosening his crushing grip from the obsidian armrests of the throne. They
may not disturb the chamber. If so, we shall continue as
planned.
His command arrived to late to halt the first Liche, Selabbilus, who had
already transported down to the temple at the bottom of Nostradamus
tower when the order came for the Conclave to halt.
The Lord of the First School now turned his attention to him.
Hold where you are, Selabbilus heard his master speak.
Obediently, Selabbilus relaxed and took position before the
portal generator as he awaited his masters
bidding.
Vast though the chamber was, there was sparse room to move about freely,
for it was choked with items and work areas everywhere. And not just upon
the floor, for iron stairways wound their way up to three different levels
above the group where more of the mysterious machinery lay scattered about
upon elevated platforms and the upper walls of the room.
Raven took another look about, then asked Nightshadow to stand guard at the
door. That done, she led the way in followed by the rest, most all of whom
were eager to explore the chamber and its wonders.
The floating glass sphere was obviously the first mystery that called out
for investigation, and they drew toward it, pausing a few feet away to examine
what lay trapped within the five-foot globe.
The creature they beheld--if it was a creature--was unlike anything
the heroes had encountered before. It undulated and moved like some gaseous
beast, yet to call it gaseous, in the sense one would call an air elemental that would
convey a false sense of its true form. It more accurately might have been
described as a hole, that floated within the confines of its
globular prison, for its mass was totally black and devoid of any true solidity.
If one walked round the glass sphere to gaze upon the creature from the side--it
had no depth! It was no thicker than the thinnest piece of metal a blacksmith
might pound flat upon the anvil.
A glow shimmered around its outer edges suggesting that this might actually
be some sort of rip in the fabric of reality as there was a distortion about
the aura that showed the area within the sphere contorting and bending in
toward the blob until it was swallowed up in absolute darkness.
They stared in silence for a few moments until Raven, at a loss for other
words, exclaimed, What is that thing?! Espy?
The Witch, no less puzzled than anyone else, shook her head as she pondered
the creature. A demon of some sort? she speculated. Ive
never seen anything like it, Raven.
Cyl?
The Elf looked to her mistress, glanced back at the creature, then likewise
shook her head. It is very interesting, but I have never seen, nor
have I heard of, a creature like this. It must be something made through
Nostradamus sorcery. We should certainly leave it
alone.
Wise advice, methinks! Fosmo, a safe distance away, answered
as he lowered the rapier slightly.
It was about then that Espidreen happened to glance toward a table a few
feet away, and, curious, she wandered over to see what lay upon
it.
Cyllindrethifl, she suddenly called out, look at
this!
Everyone answered the call, moving toward her as the Witch reached down to
retrieve a heavy piece of crystal. It pulsed with colors that changed from
gold, to red, to black...a black very similar to that of the creature in
the glass prison.
The patterns were familiar: it was the same as the glowing crystals inset
below in the museum.
Gathering round the table, the group observed that it held dozens of similar
crystals, large and small.
As she took hold of the crystal offered to her, a look of concern passed
over Cyllindrethifls face and she seemed to realize what Espidreens
point was.
Raven, these crystals hold the captured essence of the creature
in the globe, Espidreen spoke as she released the crystal to
Cyllindrethifl. See how the red and the gold resemble the glow from
the outer edges of it, and the black matches its body?
And not only that, Cyllindrethifl added, but look how many
crystals he has here. He must have close to a hundred lying on this
table!
Raven now observed that both Witches had a most uneasy expression upon their
faces as if they understood something the others did not.
And? she asked, raising her left hand toward them, encouraging
them to explain.
Raven--where did he get them? Cyllindrethifl whispered, fixing
her eyes upon her mistress. How could he have access to a capture
essence spell?
The Mistress of Freeport looked back and forth at her two Witches, apparently
missing the reason for their concern. He doesnt have any Witches
here at this whole School of Sorcery who can cast that for him? she
asked.
Impossible, Raven! Espidreen exclaimed. No Witch would
work for a Sorcerer, let alone a Liche.
The thought is inconceivable, Cyllindrethifl agreed. Her
goddess would never permit it.
Even if he captured Arcana and tried to force her to work for him,
Espidreen went on, her goddess would have withheld her spells so she
couldnt.
It seemed to the Mistress of Freeport that there were more important things
to be concerned with, and so she asked, Is there some reason we should
be concerned about it either way, Espy?
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke in a somber tone as she held out
the glowing crystal, there should be no way Nostradamus could possibly
have access to that spell short of finding a few scrolls that he could employ.
He couldnt possibly have found sufficient scrolls of that spell
to allow him to make so many enchanted crystals, for we do not permit that
spell to leave our possession except for very good reasons. The implications
are that hes found a way to either cast the spell or else--because
hes a scribe--hes found some means of duplicating our scrolls
to make copies of it!
Doremi now offered up an opinion as she reached for one of the carved
crystals.
You know, it is common knowledge that scribes can make scrolls
of spells they cant actually cast, she pointed out. But
most Witch and Druid spells dont work for them. Ive never heard
of a scribe being able to make a capture essence scroll. But given
the fact that theyve had ten thousand years to try and find a way to
copy it...maybe they finally
have.
At her words, a nervous silence pervaded the atmosphere, and the Bard took
another look at the crystal, carved into the shape of a Karnaki hieroglyphic
falcon. Then she slipped it into her pouch as a keepsake.
Raven, if thats true, Espidreen eventually spoke up, we
must destroy the knowledge of how to do that and slay anyone who knows the
secret. Everything takes second place to that! Capture essence is
that which makes us Witches...it is that which makes us different from all
other wizards. If the knowledge of that spell has passed to Sorcerers and
Necromancers, it will mean the end of us! No matter what the cost, we must
destroy the knowledge if it exists!
Lets not panic, ladies, Raven spoke, trying to calm down
the agitated Witches. Nostradamus is going to be dead soon enough,
and my guess is, if that knowledge exists, hes greedy enough that he
wouldnt share the secret with anyone, including his Conclave. Kill
him and the secret--if there is one--probably dies with him,
okay?
Neither of the pair looked any too confident at her words, but both knew
there was nothing else they could do, and so they held their
peace.
This all brings us back to another question, though, Doremi added,
nodding toward the glass sphere and its occupant. Just what is the
thing theyre capturing the essence of, and why are they doing
it?
There was silence for a moment at the question.
I suppose, Raven finally answered, looking back to the sphere,
thats going to remain a mystery...unless we can find a clue here
amongst all these papers. Cyl, Espy--and Doremi--take a fast look through
some of the parchments and see if you learn anything. We cant spare
much time here, so go to it! Lets see what we can find
out.
At her command, the women drifted off to examine what they could of the written
materials while Raven and the remaining men explored other parts of the
chamber.
These parchments are Hocwrathian, but some of the books are written
in what looks like Torrencian, Espidreen noted to Cyllindrethifl, who
likewise was leafing through a thick old tome on a table next to the
Witch.
Very odd, isnt it? the Elf agreed. Also, these books
are filled with words I do not know--axial rotation, for example,
she added lifting her tome toward Espidreen. And look--the words inscribed
hereon were not written by someones pen--the letters are perfect and
identical! A machine must somehow have made them--or
sorcery....
A machine that can write books? questioned Espidreen. How
could such a thing be?
Hey, Cyl, Doremi now spoke up, look at this
diagram.
The Elf seemed taken aback for a moment, but then moved over to Doremi.
Please call me Cyllindrethifl, she requested, looking
the Bard in the eyes as she obligingly stepped up.
Oh, Im sorry, the Bard apologized. I know Raven calls
you Cyl, so I thought that was what you liked to be
called.
Yes, and I have been unable to get her to stop calling me that!
Even when she informed me it was that, or hey Elf!, and I told
her Hey Elf! was preferable, she ignored my wishes, and continued
with her own name for me. In any event, what have you
found?
Doremi held out a parchment, allowing the Elf to see that it was an illustration
of a ring inscribed with the Karnaki-Hocwrathian runes they had observed
below in the museum.
This is the spell they inscribed onto the portal underneath us,
the Bard spoke.
Cyllindrethifl nodded and released the parchment, directing her attention
to other drawings upon the shelf. Most were sketches, over and over again,
of rune-inscribed rings--derivatives of the same basic idea as the portal
below as the Liches had relentlessly sought a means to enact one sort of
spell through the power of another. Apparently, it was here in this chamber
that they had experimented until they had mastered the process, crafting
the portal in the museum as the zenith of their achievement.
It was about this time that Raven called out for them.
The trio found she and the men gathered around a corner, staring up at an
odd sight: massive boards of slate were erected across a wall, their black
surfaces covered, top to bottom, with chalk markings of numbers, letters,
symbols, brackets, angles and diagrams interspersed with notations about
various spells. Again, these all seemed focused on circular, hieroglyph-inscribed
rings. But beyond the odd scribbles and drawings of spellcraft and runes
of power, more than one drawing appeared to show such rings attached to
mechanisms of some queer sort. The display was nearly an entire tome of work
emblazoned upon a single wall, its purpose and meaning as mysterious as any
other thing they had yet seen.
Raven stood before the wall, trying and failing to make some sense of it,
her left arm resting on her hip.
Some kind of code, they heard her exclaim as they drew
close.
It didnt take more than a single glance for Doremi to decide it was
pointless for her to try and decipher the writings, while the grimace
on Espidreens face showed enlightenment wouldnt be coming from
her either. Only Cyllindrethifl, really no less puzzled than the others,
paused and slowly moved her head back and forth as she contemplated every
letter, number and symbol, seeking to decipher the mystery.
Raven leaned back and cocked her head toward Espidreen who stood
behind.
Espy? she asked, hopefully.
I dont understand codes, Raven, answered the Witch. The
meaning of this is no less a mystery to me than for you.
Cyl? Raven now asked.
I think...its...a language, Raven, came her
answer.
Raven turned and looked back. Did I not just say that,
Cyl?
The Elf returned her stare. No, you said it was a
code, she replied. I do not believe it is a code;
the Liches havent transposed letters with numbers in hope of hiding
the meaning of words--I believe this is an entire language of numbers. A
mathematical language if you will.
Raven turned back to the wall, observing the cipherings thereon, and then
she spoke again.
Cant be math, she concluded. No ones better
than I am at math, and that bunch of chicken scratch makes no sense to me.
What do you think, Espy?
The Witch held her peace a moment and then took in a breath. Raven,
Im a Witch, she exclaimed. I can add and subtract, and
thats it--you know that!
Doremi wasnt quite able to stifle the sound of her smirk, but as the
Witch turned to glare at her, the Bard quickly tried to make as if shed
coughed.
Sorry, she spoke, patting her chest and clearing her
throat.
Espidreen, though, wasnt fooled, and gave the Bard a nasty stare in
response.
Why would anyone want to complicate something as simple as
mathematics? Raven now asked.
Cyllindrethifl advanced another step to join her mistress as both gazed to
the wall before them.
If my supposition is correct, this is actually a
simplification of mathematics, Raven, she
concluded.
Raven chuckled sarcastically, and her brow furrowed. That looks simpler
than writing it out the normal way, Cyl?! Come on!
The Elf Paused, trying to find the words to explain her point.
Imagine, she finally spoke, if you took a full page of
ciphering, Raven, and could--condense it--into a half-dozen symbols. My
speculation is that this is what that wall represents. Complicated as those
writings look, perhaps to write them out normally--simply, as you
put it--would take many times that number of slate boards.
What could possibly require so much mathematics that youd have
to invent a whole new way of ciphering just to write it out,
Cyl?
The Elf shrugged. I cannot hazard a guess, Raven. But since we seem
to see a similarity between the portal below us and some of the writings
and objects in this chamber--perhaps this represents the trouble the Liches
had to go to in order to activate the Karnaki enchantments with their own
sorcery.
I suppose that could make sense, Raven agreed.
Look there at the end, Doremi spoke, pointing.
The others, looking to the board at the far right of the wall, now observed
that all the symbols and all the notes concluded with one interesting
notation:
= 0 drag coefficient
Anyone know what that could possibly mean? Raven
wondered.
No one spoke up, and after a moment, she went on.
Cyl, is there any chance you can figure out the basis and meaning of
this so-called mathematical language if you study it long
enough?
The Elfs mien seemed to take on an air of irritation, and she came
erect, the tips of her ears pointing sharply upward.
Raven--I am an Elf! Cyllindrethifl responded. Elves do
not study mathematics; we have better things to do. I have no idea what all
this means, and I have no wish to learn it. Id rather learn to play
a new musical instrument, than understand this language, since instruments
at least do something useful. Mathematics is for those who lack creativity
in their heart. That is why a Liche would spend its time crafting a language
out of mathematics when it could otherwise learn to draw, sculpt, or play
music.
The Mistress of Freeport squinted.
Cyl, youre as good at doing math in your head as I am--whats
this sudden contempt for ciphering?
I am only good at it because of its simplicity, Raven. Even a child
can cipher the numbers of human mathematics in its head. That doesnt
mean it, or me, has a regard for it. This Liche-made number-language can
be consigned to the flames for all I care.
That ended the conversation, but Espidreen had been looking over the wall
of ciphering, and she directed Ravens attention to one diagram of three
intertwined rings.
There, Raven, look, she spoke, pointing. See the notation,
The central ring stabilizes the field? What do you suppose it
means?
Raven took a quick look and shook her head. Some incantation to affect
crop growth? she speculated.
From across the room, the group now heard Fosmo snapping his fingers, and
they looked his direction to see the Cutpurse in the northwest corner, pointing
to the wall.
Secret panel, he whispered in excitement as the group
drew near.
The wall seemed no different, at first observation, from any of the other
finished surfaces of the chamber, being a single large panel of dressed stone
inset between two decorative marble arches. But Fosmo indicated with his
finger for Raven to examine the area between the panel and one side of an
arch, and there was a hairs breadth of space between the two. The space
was insufficient to press the blade of a dagger through, but it was enough
to reveal the surfaces were not truly flush against each other.
The Mistress of Freeport winked in response and patted him on the back.
Good job! How do we open her up?
Fosmo winked back and began tapping, pushing and pulling about the area.
For several minutes, he prodded and examined the stonework, hoping to locate
some catch or loose piece of masonry behind which a keyhole might be hidden.
But his efforts bore no fruit and eventually he looked back, shaking his
head in disappointment.
Must take a command word, Raven concluded. Then she took in a
breath and began to speak.
Door...open! In! Up! Down! Move!
She continued on, using every word she could think of, but the wall stubbornly
remained fixed in place.
Espy--try it in Hocwrathian, she finally spoke.
The Witch complied and began repeating many of the same words with no better
results.
Okay, everybody try it with every language you know, Raven now
ordered.
The group now cut loose at the door with every language from Pirates Cant
to Elvish, but it seemed to be an exercise in futility as the panel withstood
their attempts, remaining immovable.
Thor quickly grew impatient.
We could be here all day shouting at the thing before you get lucky
enough to hit upon some word, out of the thousands of words, that it likes.
Lets be off, and stop wasting time! he urged, lifting the hammer
toward the brass door leading out.
Doremi leaned back and craned her head up toward the Scandian standing behind.
No, thats not how it works, she quickly explained. There
has to be a command word it will respond to--something that, orders it to
allow passage to the other side. A word like open or lift.
The trick is to find the word and whatever language its
in.
Cyl, try it in Dwarvish, Raven suggested, shouting above the
din of the others voices.
The Elf paused, apparently surprised at the suggestion.
What makes you think I speak the language of the Dwarves? she
asked.
Youre an Elf, came the answer.
Once again, the ear tips were pointing stiffly upward and the head cocked
to the left. What is there about being an Elf that would convey to
you the notion that I must speak the tongue of Dwarves,
Raven?
How about, because you Elves like learning languages?! Raven
snapped back.
Dwarvish is so...guttural, Raven. We dont typically learn non-melodic
languages. Avalonian, yes. Hocwrathian because I have to--but Dwarvish?
Please!
If you dont know any Dwarvish, Cyl--fine! Try something else
you might know, for goodness--
The Scandian, meanwhile, had lifted his gaze from the Bard to the section
of wall. Haro--drepa! he spoke.
At his word, there came a loud grinding sound and the floor they stood upon
began to shake as the entire panel began sinking into a recessed hole beneath
it.
--Okay, who said what? Raven immediately wanted to know, whipping
her gaze from Cyllindrethifl back to the wall as she heard the block begin
to slide away.
I think it was me, Thor answered proudly. I said the word
drepa, a word meaning something akin to
Im knocking, so open up.
Good job! she exclaimed. And a smart move on their part.
How many burglars speak Scandian?
She paused and waited as lower and lower sank the great stone until they
could finally peer over its top to make out a small chamber behind. A few
moments later, the thick block came to a stop, tucked in its recess, and
the group eagerly crossed upon its top into the area beyond.
The chamber was filled with shadows, but as their lockets brought light to
the darkness, they found a most wondrous sight: Standing before some glass
cylinders to its left side, and resting upon the flagstones of the circular
chamber in which it was housed, was a large throne.
It was eerily beautiful yet it conveyed a disturbing aura, for this throne
differed from any they had ever seen: a sumptuous seat of tufted black leather,
easily able to fit two people or one single person in overmuch comfort, lay
crafted within a gilded frame of black and gold that vaguely resembled a
sedan, but for the fact it rested upon a rounded base with three steps that
allowed one to enter and sit therein.
Most curious, however, was that three great rings of gold encircled the throne.
Two crossed in the shape of an X while the third enclosed its mates, positioned
at the point where the others crossed. Unlike some of the diagrams in the
laboratory, nothing seemed to hold these rings in place, for they simply
floated freely in the air by means of sorcery. Similarly to the portal in
the museum, each was studded with glowing crystal hieroglyphs along the surfaces,
though they lacked the Hocwrathian runes scribed into the portal below. Each
ring also was crafted with a series of slotted ribs and holes drilled within
it, their purpose unknown.
Lotta gold there, eh! was Fosmos exclamation at the
sight.
Got that right, Raven muttered in response as she cautiously
crept up for a better look.
Entering, the group observed that some sort of control panel was positioned
in front of where the occupant would recline in the sumptuous seat. A lever
sprouted forth from it and to the left of the lever was fashioned a mechanism
with numbers inscribed thereon: five zeros lined in a row.
The golden rings, Espidreen pointed out,--they have the
hieroglyphs, but not the Hocwrathian spell they used to enact the Karnaki
enchantment. I wonder what the implications of that are.
Cyl, Raven said quietly as she ran a gloved hand along the rim
of one of the golden rings, when you were making use of the portal
downstairs, you said something: A machine must be made--that was what
you said. Can this throne be a machine of some sort?
Joining her, the Elf crossed her hands behind her back and assessed the seat
and panel before it for a few moments before she slowly nodded to her mistress.
I do not recall what I said, but this throne clearly is enchanted,
Raven. Beyond that, yes--I believe it is part machine.
The Witch now spoke up. I think I know what this does,
Raven.
Espidreen took in a breath as she leaned forward between two of the rings
to gaze at the controls of the device. Everything weve been seeing
here, from the astrological laboratory to the portal down below, has dealt
with time and divining the future. From that, I believe this is a vision
chair, she concluded. Like the portal below, it will allow one
to see visions of the future--or maybe the past as well.
It seemed a reasonable conclusion, and Raven looked over to Cyllindrethifl
for her opinion.
Possibly, Raven, the Elf agreed. This obviously is related
to the portal be--....
Cyllindrethifls voice trailed off as her mouth slowly fell open in
what seemed to be shock.
What? Raven wanted to know.
No, she whispered after a moment.
Then her voice rose in pitch. No! No! No! Not a vision chair! As Espidreen
said, everything deals with time, Raven. I think this is far more than a
chair to divine the future--this may be a machine, meant to travel
through time itself!
Raven glanced from the Elf, to the throne, and back to the Elf once more.
What do you mean, travel through time? she
asked.
Cyllindrethifl braced her arms against one of the rings and nervously leaned
forward, her eyes examining the interior of the throne and the control panel
before the seat. I mean, Raven, she continued, that the
purpose of this throne may actually be to physically take Nostradamus into
the past or into the future.
The Mistress of Freeport took yet another look at the throne, trying to
comprehend the Elfs words, and after a moment the silence was broken
as Doremi started to speak.
We must turn our minds to a task beyond any that has ever been
undertaken in Islay. To do that, I require all of you to become as I, that
your minds may be used to their full potential, the Bard said,
repeating Cyllindrethifls words in the museum. A machine must
be made. This is the key. With this Karnaki enchantment, we can use our sorcery
and build a machine. Then we cannot be stopped. It will be my ultimate
triumph!
A hushed silence returned to the chamber for a moment, and then Espidreen
spoke again.
Can such a thing be? And just how far into the past or
future?
An interesting matter for speculation, Cyllindrethifl noted.
My supposition is that he believes it could take one either to the
very beginning or the very end of time itself. But one might wonder if a
machine could actually travel back before it was actually created, or whether
it would stop at the point it was first completed. Hmm.
A bigger question, Espidreen now spoke, is how does it
do it? No spell could be so powerful, so how might a machine do
it?
Its possible, the Elf speculated, that its
meant somehow to shift into the third plane and then re-emerge in our world
again at any point of the timeline. But how could a machine possibly do
that?!
What do you mean, Cyl? the Mistress of Freeport
queried.
Cyllindrethifl knelt down, tracing a circle upon the floor. There are
three spheres--three planes of existence like three wheels inside of each
other, she explained. The first plane is the Nexus--the physical
world in which we live. Beyond that, is the second plane--the Realm of
Faerie, Cyllindrethifl went on, tracing a second circle outside of
the first. One side of that is the realm of Brigit. But the other side
is Hell and the realm of the demons and the supernatural. As you all know
from the stories youve heard, time functions differently there. A man
might visit and dance with the fairies for one night and return to our world
to find that twenty years have passed.
Something like that even happened to me once! Doremi exclaimed,
looking down at Cyllindrethifl.
The Elf now drew a final circle outside both of the other ones. But
beyond the Realm of Faerie is the last dimension--Eternity! Eternity exists
outside of time and space. There--the past, the present and the future of
our physical realm are all the same. This machine may--I say
may--be intended to plane shift into Eternity and then re-emerge
in our own world at any point of our timeline in the past or future. That,
or perhaps draw power from there to accomplish the same
goal.
Raven suddenly snapped to attention as the implications started becoming
clear. Then this thing could take a person back twenty years into the
past, Cyl?! she asked excitedly.
Well...that is, I believe, what Nostradamus wants it
to--
She got no further than those words before Raven, in one fast move, stepped
through the rings, moved her swords aside to keep them from catching on the
thrones sides, and settled into the seat.
Get back! she warned. Then, quick as that, she began tugging
and pushing the lever and manipulating the brass tumblers of the machine,
trying to make something happen.
But nothing did, and the throne lay dormant.
After a few moments, Raven pounded on the control panel with her fists, furious
at being disappointed. Maybe it takes a control word or some spell
to get it going, she speculated.
Cyllindrethifl reached over and grasped her by the shoulder. Raven,
she spoke, you should not be so hasty. I could have told you this machine
does not work.
Slowly, the Mistress of Freeport turned her head to give the Elf a positively
icy stare.
You magically just knew that, Cyl? Who needs portals and visions to
tell the future when we have an Elf who can?! she spoke
caustically.
Cyllindrethifl released her grip and stood back.
Raven, it was obvious this machine couldnt possibly
work.
Puzzled, Espidreen now looked to her and asked, Why do you say
that?
The Elf clasped her hands behind her back.
If this device worked, we would already be serving Nostradamus,
she said with a confident nod. He would simply send his forces out
to attack Throckmorton, see what Throckmortons defense strategy would
be, then travel back a day in this machine and attack him again--this time,
with a plan to overcome those defenses. Put another way, she added
as Raven climbed back out of the throne, imagine that you played a
chess game, then went back in time to replay it, but this time, you knew
your opponents strategy.
No, Cyllindrethifl concluded, this machine does not work
because Nostradamus has not conquered the Second School yet. Thats
what hell do first, before he does anything else.
Then whys this thing herre, eh? the Highlander wondered
as he squinted at the device. Whats the use forr it if it dont
worrk?
Raven took in a breath. Another failed project, perhaps, she
muttered.
The Mistress of Freeport then shook a finger at Espidreen. Remember
I told you they were up to something? Well--this is it! Theyre trying
to build a machine that travels through time!
Looks like theyve already built it, Romulus
observed.
At least theyve not succeeded in their task, Thor observed.
It would be a dark day for Islay if they had. Lets destroy this
thing, and move on.
If he still lived, Nostradamus would have suffered a heart attack at hearing
Thors words. As it was, the Liche immediately opened his mouth to order
his servant shadowing the party to attack Nightshadow in hope of drawing
the others outside to save his precious machine as the Conclave--joined by
their master--gathered for their own climactic attack as quickly as
possible.
No! No! Raven exclaimed. Leave it alone.
Wait! the Liche hissed.
Why? asked the Scandian, lifting the hammer toward the throne.
Its dangerous.
As Romulus pointed out, theyve already built this thing, and
they cant make it work. We might be able to study it, and find a way
to make it work ourselves.
How would we study it? questioned Cyllindrethifl. You plan
on taking this machine with us, Raven?
Raven paused a moment and considered the question.
Were not carrying this around with us if thats what
youre thinking! Thor quickly made clear, shaking the hammer at
her.
Irritated, Raven raised her hands against one of the rings and leaned forward
in frustration, looking down to the floor. I know that! she
exclaimed. But I want this thing. There must be some way to
get it out.
I dont think it would even fit through the door, Doremi
pointed out.
Raven exhaled. A million ounces of gold to anyone who can figure out
a way for me to get this thing back to Freeport! she
announced.
Instantly, Fosmo spat out the water hed just sipped from his canteen.
Fer that much, mell carry it out on me back! he
choked.
That said, the Cutpurse threw down the canteen and reached out to grasp a
rail at the fore of the throne. Then he gave a tug for all he was worth,
leaning backwards as he sought to pull the throne toward him.
Groaning as he strained to pull it, the machine did budge an inch or two,
and clearly with enough manpower it might have been movable--but even Raven
realized this was a fools errand.
Leave the thing be! Thor ordered. Its not going anywhere,
and we need to be moving!
Hes right, Raven reluctantly agreed. Leave it, Fosmo.
Its staying here. Drat it all! If we could just get it home, Im
sure we could get it to work.
How, Raven? questioned Espidreen. If Nostradamus and his
Conclave cant make this thing work, how can we do
it?
The Mistress of Freeport pondered the question for a moment. Theyve
already expended the full range of their knowledge of Necromancy and Sorcery
in what theyve done to this point. Even at that, they had to employ
Witchery as well--but they arent true Witches. What if we Witches were
to add the fullness of our knowledge to what theyve done so far? Might
we be able to figure out something they havent, and perhaps get this
thing to work?
Well...certainly were smarter than Sorcerers, Espidreen
acknowledged. But I wonder what about it doesnt work? What needs
to be done with it?
I believe I know why they have not--and may not--be able to solve the
problem with this device, even though they probably could make use of what
theyve learned otherwise, Cyllindrethifl spoke up.
Raven looked back. All right, why?
Hands again clasped behind her back, the Elf gazed upon the throne. The
task of moving a machine and rider through time is so staggering that
in determining to solve that problem, the Liche has failed to see the obvious
simple alternative: have the machine remain while only the rider travels
through time. Thats what the insurmountable problem is: they desire
too much, for they wish to be able to move back and forth through time at
will, rather than settling for gradual movement through steps. Very foolish
and greedy of them, if I may say so.
Suddenly, Doremi snapped her fingers. I know what the thing is in the
glass ball! she exclaimed, looking back toward the workshop.
Its a time elemental!
Espidreens mouth opened wide. A time elemental! she repeated
in a hushed tone. Shes right, Raven--it must
be!
The Mistress of Freeport glanced back and forth between the two.
Ive never heard of that sort of an elemental.
Theyre very rare, Raven, Doremi pointed out.
More than just rare, Cyllindrethifl added. They are legend,
more than anything else.
How about someone telling me just what they are?!
Supposedly, Espidreen began, they are creatures that can
be created or brought forth when two spells affecting the flow of time occupy
the same area.
Or so apocryphal tales assert, the Elf added for her mistress.
From what I have been told, when someone is foolish enough to allow
two time distortion spells to target the same area, a time
vortex is created which is similar to an Ethereal whirlwind spell,
although it sweeps people and objects out of their own time the way an
Ethereal whirlwind sweeps people into the Ethers. Tales exist that
time elementals have been known to exit these vortexes, though I stress they
are unverified by any reliable sources I am aware of.
They must have cast the spells like that until they got a time elemental
to come out, then captured it somehow, Doremi speculated. The
Liches must be mad to risk dangerous sorcery like that--they could easily
have wound up dead by doing that.
Cyllindrethifl thought for a moment, and blinked. It does make sense,
Raven, she admitted. They cant cast the Karnaki spell
theyve been employing, but the hieroglyphs themselves apparently have
power just as runes and our sigils do! The Liches carved crystals in the
form of those hieroglyphs, somehow
captured the essence of their time elemental, and then used a
Sorcerer spell of some sort to imbue the crystals with power, thus triggering
the effect of the hieroglyphs and allowing them to see into the future! After
that, they continued their research and built this machine in hope of actually
moving through time, but they cant quite pull it
off.
Thats right! Doremi agreed. Why does everything
I do fail at its moment of triumph? Why will not it simply work as I wish?
You said that, Cyllindrethifl. It must have referred to this
machine!
Raven, Espidreen now spoke, I believe we have enough
information between this device and the portal below that we could make a
spell to allow us to travel through time--at least a little bit through it.
That could be very useful.
Doremi, Raven asked, your memory good enough to draw out
those hieroglyphs encircling all these various rings?
The Bard nodded. Yes. Plus, theres a sketch of the runes out
in the other room, anyway, that we found.
Then the essence of that time elemental is the key, Espidreen
continued. I dont think we need to have carved crystals in the
form of the hieroglyphs to enact the spell, but we do need its
essence. Once we have that, with enough time and experimentation we
can create our own spell. I dont know about going back twenty years,
Raven, but hours, days...very likely!
A seventh-rank spell for sure, Cyllindrethifl
observed.
Espy, fill your pack with those crystals out there when we leave,
Raven ordered. If we get nothing more, that will be enough for us to
start work.
The Witch agreed and briefly continued in conversation with her mistress
as Cyllindrethifl, along with Doremi, took the opportunity to wander over
to examine the glass tubes north the throne. Mounted against the wall, each
was comprised of two half-cylinders of glass set into sliding, rune-covered
bronze frames that permitted them to be slid open or locked closed, and they
were hooked by thick stranded cables to the back end of the throne where
another lever was mounted. Small piles of ash lay at the bottom of each tube,
and the Elf found this most interesting. But suddenly, an odd look passed
across her face as her gaze followed the cables from the tubes to where they
hooked to the throne. Then she seemed to look back towards the
laboratory.
She knows, the Liche realized as he observed her.
Doremi, catching sight of the Elfs expression, asked what was the
matter.
This machine is very evil, was Cyllindrethifls cryptic
answer, and she said nothing more.
Raven, the Bard now heard Espidreen speak from a few feet away,
I think weve been here about three hours now.
The Mistress of Freeport nodded. I know. Time to pick up our pace.
Time to finish this.
As all this had been going on, Giles had been standing toward the south end
of the chamber, and at one point he casually took a step nearer the wall.
It was then that his sword started to glow. Surprised, he lifted it toward
the wall and as he did so the glow brightened somewhat.
Lady, he spoke, nodding toward his uplifted blade.
The whole group now glanced over toward the Knight, catching sight of the
silver blade glistening with a red glow that grew slightly in intensity as
he took a step toward the wall.
There was a pause and then everyone could clearly make out the word
Liche as Raven silently mouthed it.
That was all Thor needed to hear, and the Scandian was charging from the
chamber.
Theyve seen you! the Liche hissed out.
Now one of the problems Nostradamus had, both in life and in death, was a
habit of failing to clearly explain his orders to those who served him.
Typically, he would bark out a command, leaving it to the servant in question
to determine the full range of what his master wished done, and how to do
it swiftly in a manner acceptable to the Liche--or his end would be anything
but swift! The bad fruit of that trait now showed itself, for when
Nostradamus warned the shadow, in his mind was the presumption that it would
naturally retreat and hide (since thats what he would have done),
leaving the group confused, which might permit a return at a more opportune
time.
It didnt.
Because the Liche had ordered it to attack only a moment before, when he
spoke again, the shadow raised its hand and a ball of orange plasma appeared
as it sought to provide a diversion before it retreated to safety.
Its blast went off when most of the Fellowship were still yards from the
door.
Nightshadow never saw the ball of fire that sailed along the roof toward
him, and the Rogue took its full brunt as a sphere of flame erupted at the
door, stopping Thor in his tracks until the flame died out a moment later.
Then the Viking was surging forward again.
I didnt tell you to attack! Run, you idiot! the Liche exclaimed
in rage.
At its masters command, the shadow--eagerly--began fleeing west as
the Fellowship began pouring out the door.
Nightshadow, whod been on watch facing east, had been taken totally
unaware as the hall around him exploded into flame. Recovering from the blast,
he made a fast glance backward, seeing nothing, and then--assuming the attack
must have come from before him--started moving away from the shadow as the
flames began to vanish. It was then that Thor emerged from behind and sprinted
the opposite direction, causing Nightshadow to pause, change direction, and
follow the Scandian--just in time to collide with Romulus as he rushed out
into the hall.
The pair tumbled down in a heap as Raven jumped over them, beginning a spell
as she flew into the hall, whipping her hand forward to hurl a
sunstone.
Instantly, the gemstone began to glow as it streaked westward like a sling
bullet until it exploded into a burst of sunlight.
That same moment arose a ghastly screech from the roof above, and a smoking
black mass, writhing in pain, dropped to the carpet as the light from the
spell faded out. Still howling in pain, the shadowy figure scrambled to its
feet and in one quick moment bounded off like some four-legged beast as Thor
just missed striking it with his hammer.
The whole thing happened so fast that neither of the other two Witches even
had time to cast before the monster was scurrying around the corner at the
back of the hallway, vanishing from their sight.
Not a Liche--its too fast! Raven shouted as she started
running after Thor.
It was something else, Espidreen yelled back as she began following,
--a werewolf, I think!
An undead werewolf?! Giles questioned as he, too, sprinted down
the corridor, behind the faster-moving women.
Who knows in this place?! Cyllindrethifl exclaimed as she drew
a dagger and passed him.
Doremi had followed the rest out of the laboratory, pausing at the door while
Nightshadow and the Gladiator go to their feet and rushed after the others.
She was about to do likewise when she felt the Highlander behind seize her
by the arm.
Y said y rrememberr maps n things good, he
spoke quickly, nodding to the eastern stairway from the fore end of the museum.
Could whateverr the thing is cirrcle rround and come back this
way?
Uh, Doremi said, trying to recall the maps of the fourth level,
I think so. I didnt get a close enough look to remember the exact
path, but from what I remember, yes--I think you could go south from the
back of the complex and then wind your way around until you were at the south
side of the building, then come back here.
In case its trryin that, Im cuttin it off,
he spoke releasing her arm as he began running east. Tell the rrest,
he spoke, looking back.
Fosmo moaned.
Wouldn do that, mate! he advised from behind as he looked
over the Bards shoulder.
But Mac Tavish was gone that quickly, vanishing from view in a dead run as
he rounded the head of the eastern stairs.
Come on, the Cutpurse then spoke, grasping Doremis arm
and pulling her down the hall with him.
Thor was first to reach the turn as he came to a halt, Raven right on his
heels despite the time she took to cast the spell. Both whipped their heads
about, looking and listening, but the corridor was empty, and the two realized
the shadow could have bolted down a variety of passages along with at least
two stairways from what they could observe in the great shafts of moonlight
that thrust their way through the arched windows running along the western
side of the building.
Raven unleashed a second sunburst spell in the event the creature
had simply become invisible or was somehow hiding in the rafters above them,
but this time no sounds of agony came forth.
Whatever the creature was, it had managed an escape for now.
The Fellowship were now catching up, and it took only a moment to verify
there was no sign of whatever it was that had attacked them.
Raven, we need to find and kill that thing! Espidreen exclaimed
as she looked about. We cant let it escape to warn
Nostradamus!
Would a werewolf be smart enough to warn him? Thor
asked.
It was smart enough to cast a spell at me! Nightshadow exclaimed, stepping past him. Lets move!
Raven was about to speak, when she caught sight of Fosmo and Doremi joining
up with the party.
Wheres Mac Tavish? she wanted to know, looking to the
Bard.
He went southward, along the other stairs, to cut the thing off in
case it tries to circle around! Doremi panted in response.
Split into three groups! Raven angrily ordered, moving forward
as she shifted the wakizashi into her right hand. Meet back here in
a quarter-hour at the latest! If you run into the Highlander, link up with
him.
Theyd trained to do this on board the ship as well, though they hoped
it wouldnt be necessary since nothing could be riskier than splitting
up in the face of known danger. But the situation called for it and the
Fellowship now scattered different directions, weakening their overall strength
in hope of finding and killing whatever creature had discovered the
party.
Arcana
The Highlander, meanwhile, had already bolted southward in a dead run, ignoring
doorways, corridors and stairs until he arrived at the enormous vaulted windows
lining the southern side of the building. It was there that Mac Tavish paused
a moment as he reached over to snap closed the locket, hiding its tell tale
light. Then only shadow and silence was left in the hall as he held position
against a wall, waiting and listening. He stood there for long minutes, a
lone sentinel constantly shifting his eyes right and left in hunt of anything
that might show itself, but his vigilance was rewarded by neither sound nor
sight of any enemy.
His patience eventually wearing thin, Mac Tavish began creeping west, the
thick carpet beneath him muffling the sound of his footfalls. Still no enemy
had shown itself, and the unarmored Highlander crept some fifty feet west
before a wall blocked his way. A set of stairs off the hallway here led up
to the north, and Mac Tavish cautiously began to ascend, sword upraised as
he listened for any sounds, other than his own beating heart, that could
alert him to what his eyes might miss in the darkness.
Up stepped the Highlander until the stairs ended at a door nestled in an
alcove. It was difficult to see, but there was just enough light from the
windows behind to reveal it was crafted of thick wooden planks bound together
by wide iron hinges set into the stone wall. The room beyond was apparently
one of those in the complex that was lit, for light showed from beneath the
door.
He debated what to do for a moment, and then Mac Tavish reached out to grasp
an iron ring, opening the door just enough to peep inside.
Through the crack of the door, he beheld a two-story atrium ringed by an
arcade of arches and a set of stairs leading up to a mezzanine. The light
within emanated from some sort of spell that dimly illuminated the chamber,
revealing shadowy alcoves, some with doors set therein, and some empty. No
creatures were visible, and the Highlander decided to shut the door and return
downstairs.
Then he felt it.
It started with a shudder from what felt like a sudden draft, except that
there was no breeze coming out the crack of the door. Then the hairs on the
back of his neck began to grow stiff as the warrior sensed
something.
Something he knew was evil.
Tightening the grip on his claymore, Mac Tavish held his breath and thought
he heard the faint creak of a door opening at the far end of the chamber.
That portal was set into its own dark alcove, and the Highlander couldnt
see it open. But open it did, and he sensed, more than saw, something emerge
and position itself in the alcove as the door creaked shut behind
it.
Whatever the thing was, it didnt move, and Mac Tavish had to direct
his sight a foot or two to the center of the alcove for even his hawk-eyed
vision to focus clearly enough to perceive that something just a shade darker
than shadows around it was standing there.
Moments passed, and neither sound nor movement came from the alcove, but
the Highlander still knew it was there, remaining motionless.
Something in him told him whatever it was knew he was there as
well.
That settled it: The Highlander stepped aside and maneuvered his left elbow
around the door, swinging it open. He paused a moment, waiting to see if
the movement would provoke a response, but nothing happened and he boldly
took a step inside, his eyes remaining fixed on the shadowed
alcove.
Arright, beastie, ghostie, orr whateverr y arre--lets see
what y got, he spoke to himself as he hunched down behind his
shield, advancing another step.
Whether or not it heard him, the shadow seemed to take up the challenge.
It now emerged from its alcove into the atrium, and he saw it clearly for
the first time. It had the form of a hooded creature the size of a man, all
black, the folds of its robe and hood undulating in an eerie, almost etheric
manner. Not really spirit and not really solid, the faceless monstrosity
stood there for a moment and then casually began to lean forward in a manner
no living man could do and remain on his feet--until it bent over, nearly
touching the floor.
Both adversaries then paused a moment, waiting to see what the other would
do.
The shadow was first to move, slithering forward like some sort of snake
as it ventured a few feet nearer. Mac Tavish, in turn, now crept across the
blue floor tiles toward his foe, muscles taut as a cat ready to
pounce.
He took another step, and the shadow seemed to reconsider. The Highlander
likewise came to a halt, though both still focused upon each other. Nothing
happened for a moment and then the shadow--almost nonchalantly--seemed to
turn away and slither back toward the alcove where it turned, stood up and
appeared to direct its gaze back at its enemy once again.
It made no further move, so the Highlander continued to edge forward, not
even blinking as he kept his eyes locked upon his quarry, ready for the first
sign of hostility. If whatever the thing was so much as raised its ghostly
arm or made more than a slight languid motion, he was leaping in for the
kill.
Yet, curiously, the shadow did nothing but stand there until he was almost
within ten feet. Then, as the Highlander took another step, it retreated
into the alcove, seeking to blend into the darkness.
Mac Tavish didnt wait to figure out what the creature was doing. He
sprang into the alcove like a lion, slashing up, down, left and right with
his claymore in the darkness.
Yet the moment he entered, he knew the figure was gone.
Instinctively, he then thrust open the door he knew hadnt been opened
only to find an empty hall beyond.
There was no possible way the shadow could have slipped through the door
without his seeing it!
Puzzled, but still alert, the Highlander slowly began backing out of the
alcove taking a blind swing or two as he went, eyes locked forward, waiting
for the first sign of his enemy in case it materialized.
The shadow couldnt have gone invisible, he reasoned, else his blade
would have made contact with it. But how could it have vanished? Could it
have simply flown through the wall like a spirit?
Then it came to him--a shift spell! Maybe that was it. The creature
might have used sorcery to escape.
But to where? And what to do about it?
Depending on its power and how well it knew the tower layout, the shadow
could have transported itself to the safety of chambers as far distant as
a hundred or more feet from him. In that case, it might make good its escape
if it wasnt hunted down, and hunted down quickly.
But where to search? It could have gone up. It could have gone down. It could
have gone to the right. It could have gone to the left.
...It could even have moved behind him.
When Raven had ordered the split, she, Fosmo--taking the Highlanders
place--and Giles moved toward a set of stairs leading down as Thor,
Cyllindrethifl and Romulus charged down the corridor, turning left to search
down the first hallway they came upon.
Last of all, Nightshadow, Doremi and Espidreen made their way south, passing
Thors group as they turned left to mount a set of stairs leading upward.
The Rogue leading the way, the trio ascended to an opening that led into
a rectangular antechamber, but no sooner had Nightshadows boots taken
the first step inside, then from above the doorway came the attack: a ball
of electricity shot down, transforming itself into a shaft of lightning that
struck the Rogue in the back.
In the next moment, a second will O the wisp followed after
the first, streaking down from the roof to attack.
Crying out as he was hit, Nightshadow spun around, his scimitars instinctively
slashing out at the second will O the wisp as he caught sight
of it moving in from the corner of his eye.
But it was the wrong thing to do.
His right scimitar struck the ball of electricity before it made its attack--but
the crackling bolt of energy now flowed down the blade into his
arm!
A few feet behind, Doremi and Espidreen halted in their tracks as the first
will O the wisp struck the Rogue. There was a shout and then
both saw Nightshadow pivot around to slash at a second will O the
wisp that had flown in after the first. This time, the silver blade struck
home, but instead of harming it, a blue bolt of electricity struck
him!
It took only a moment and the surge was gone as he screamed and dropped the
scimitar, but now the third attack came! Streaking down like a comet,
a small globe of fire dropped from the roof to the floor before
Nightshadow.
Witch and Bard immediately knew what it was--a foo fire spell! That
realization was as far as they got before there came a loud WHOOSH and the
foo fire exploded into a sphere of flame, its force knocking both
women to the ground as its flames singed their skin. Fortunately a regular
foo fire like this didnt do much damage--but both were
in pain from the red, blistered skin caused by its explosion, something that
was becoming a habit in this place.
The attacks were over, and Nightshadow was now moving into the chamber, spinning
around as his eyes searched all directions for any sign of an actual
enemy.
Witch spells, Espidreen was muttering in frustration as she got
to her feet, pulling out an elixir. Cyllindrethifls wrong--its
got to be some sort of undead Druid!
Doremi took a quick sip of her own healing draught. Cant Gypsies
cast those spells? she asked. I once saw a Gypsy attack a Cossack
with a will O the wisp. Maybe its some undead Gypsy thing
were facing.
Espidreen paused. Maybe, she admitted, looking over to Doremi
as the pain from the burns vanished. I dont know everything those
accursed Gypsies can cast, but neither of these spells requires the
essence of a creature, so they might be able to enact both of them
and an energy blast. In any case, none of these spells
is above the third rank, so the creatures Wizardly abilities might
be limited--thats good!
Yeah, Doremi muttered. At least its not a Liche.
A Liche would have hit us with something a lot more
powerful.
We still need to find and stop it. Come on.
Pausing at the doorway for a good look, the duo then cautiously entered to
observe Nightshadow busily opening doors to see if he could find the enemy
in any of the rooms off the chamber.
I dont think its here, Espidreen called out. It
left these behind to delay us. Its probably running away as we
speak.
Halting, the Rogue looked back and then toward two separate corridors,
considering what to do next.
Stay here! he ordered. Then he hurried down one of them, turning
right at its end and vanishing.
Doremi and Espidreen now found themselves alone, tensely awaiting
Nightshadows return. Both were silent, avoiding making the slightest
sound, and as the moments passed, they eventually found themselves standing
back to back, each on the lookout for danger.
Though they may have been silent, the building wasnt. Without
the sounds of the group drowning out the ambient noise of the complex, they
noticed every creak and groan that was natural to the place.
The slight moan of a draft from someplace cast an eerie aura about the room,
and--with nothing else for the women to focus their attention on--that palpable
feeling of evil seemed to come alive now that they were left by
themselves.
Unsure whether or not it was her imagination, Doremi thought she might have
heard the sounds of dark, evil little things scurrying about, but when she
would focus her hearing, the sound was always gone, only to start up again
the moment she began to relax. Espidreen, meanwhile, constantly kept her
eyes on the shadows above them, where the attacks had come from. More than
once, the Witch was certain shed caught sight of movement out of the
corner of her eye up there among the thick wooden rafters, but each time
she shifted her gaze, nothing was there.
It was almost like the place was toying with them.
Eventually, it occurred to Doremi that here she was, standing out in the
open in the most dangerous place in Islay with her only guardian a Witch
who didnt like her, and who seemed to be more practiced in running
than fighting.
About the same time, Espidreen realized her only protection in the
event of trouble was a Bard with a lute!
Why are we standing here alone? Doremi asked nervously from behind
Espidreen.
I dont know--we must be insane! the Witch
responded.
The duo then looked at each other for a moment, then bolted down the hall
Nightshadow had taken, leaving the room behind.
Raven was first to emerge back in the hallway after their fruitless search
down the stairs theyd taken. Hoping the others had better luck, she
gazed down the hall where Thors group had been searching only to see
them likewise come rushing back out of a room after an obviously fruitless
examination of it.
Catching sight of her, Thor shook his head.
Raven nodded and led her own group down the hall to them to compare
notes.
Those stairs I think go back down to the third level, Raven
exclaimed. The gods only know where the thing could be if it went that
way.
Nothing on our end, the big Viking grunted. Its slipped
away, whatever it was.
A few yards up, Nightshadows group were now descending the stairs,
and the Rogue waved to the others to join them.
We know which way it went, he exclaimed as the six rushed down
toward him. But we lost it.
Raven, it cast foo fire and will O the wisp spells
to delay us, Espidreen noted.
Witch spells, Raven muttered as she came to a halt, lowering
the katana.
The Bard thinks it could be an undead Gypsy creature, Espidreen
continued.
Raven, that might make sense, Cyllindrethifl quickly spoke up.
The thing looked like some kind of lupine beast when it ran from us,
and Gypsies can curse people with lycanthropy. If Nostradamus managed to
capture some hapless Gypsy whod already been cursed with the disease
and then turned it into an undead--he might very well have an undead werewolf
to use as a guardian. Something retaining the power of a werewolf while possibly
keeping its ability to reason as well!
Then again, it might not be an undead, Espidreen interjected.
It could be a normal were creature of some sort and the
sunlight from your spell may simply have caused it pain. We could have mistaken
that for the effect of sunlight on undead. Anyone ever hit a were creature
with a spell creating sunlight? Maybe it hurts them.
Cyllindrethifl shook her head and Ravens silence was answer
enough.
The moon is full tonight, Doremi observed.
Ive never heard of werewolves--or were-anythings, for that matter,
casting spells--have you? Nightshadow asked.
No, but werewolf, undead, or whatever the thing is, we need to find
and kill it, the Mistress of Freeport responded.
The Knight now stepped forward. Lady, hast thou any enchantment that
could discern which way our foe passed? he asked.
Raven shook her head in frustration.
Too bad we dont have a good old fashioned hunting dog to track
the thing! Doremi exclaimed, looking back up the stairs.
At her words, Raven and Espidreen both paused then, in unison, they looked
over to Cyllindrethifl.
Had any of the Liches been in that portion of the tower complex, no doubt
theyd have been shocked at the sight of a bloodhound leading a knot
of eight heroes down the empty halls and past silent chambers, yet thats
exactly what happened! Up and down and around they went until the hound paused
at a door, sniffing. It looked back to the others, and Thor stepped up to
grasp the iron ring set thereon as a handle, tugging the door
open.
A huddled mass lying on the tiled floor of an atrium was the first thing
they spied. It took only a moment for the Norseman to recognize the red hair,
the plaid tabard, the yellow shirt--and in he ran. Raven followed, turning
round in a circle to seek for enemies as her eyes searched the
chamber.
Kneeling down and laying aside his shield, Thor grasped the Highlanders
shoulder and quickly turned him over.
Mac Tavish was dead all right, his throat mangled by whatever hed
encountered.
Raven now advanced, looking down at the body with, it seemed, an air of
sadness.
He was a good man, Doremi heard her say. He shouldnt
have split off from us.
Thor stared at him a moment longer and then took up the fallen warriors
sword, placing it in Mac Tavishs hands atop his chest. He was
a brave warrior, the Scandian chieftain spoke out. Well
avenge him on whatever did this.
Got that right, Raven muttered, getting down on one knee and
leaning over for a close look at the body. Espidreen, come here,
she now called out.
The Witch, standing at the alcove with the others, looked back and forth
at her fellow party members and then tentatively stepped forward, averting
her gaze at the mangled throat of the Highlander.
Would a Liche kill a man like that? Raven asked without
turning.
The Witch stole a quick glance.
Yes, she replied, turning away. With its claws--thats
exactly how a Liche would kill someone if it wanted.
What about a werewolf? Thor asked her, keeping his gaze upon
his fallen comrade.
I--think werewolves might do more damage...but who knows? the
Witch speculated as she moved back to the others.
A ghoul? Thor now wondered aloud, looking to Raven.
The Mistress of Freeport shook her head. A ghoul wouldnt be smart
enough to kill and run--itd still be here, enjoying dinner. Though
a greater ghoul, maybe....
Her voice trailed off.
Nightshadow now joined them, peering down at the body. Wouldnt
a Liche use spells?
It might not have gotten a chance, Thor speculated. The
Highlander may have gotten the jump on it as it ran here, and forced it to
fight. Thats assuming it is a Liche were hunting and not
some other sort of demon, werewolf, or what-have-you.
Thor now rose to his feet and looked about at the various doors in the chamber,
trying to guess what way the enemy had fled.
Raven stared down for another moment and then pulled the Highlanders
cloak about his face.
As this had been going on, the hound was sniffing about the room, trying
to pick up the scent. After a few moments, it alerted on the alcove at the
other side of the room.
The Mistress of Freeport looked over to the hound and returned to her feet,
tightly gripping the wakizashi.
Come on, she ordered, moving forward.
Do we--have to leave him here? Doremi asked as she walked past
and paused for a moment.
Well come back for him if we can, Raven answered without
turning. Then she hurried over and thrust open the door. She realized they
were now at the southern end of the building, and, wasting no time, she quickly
led the way downstairs until the Fellowship stepped down into the hall leading
east.
Coming up from behind, the hound immediately caught the scent, brushed past
Raven and bounded off east, the others following. It scrambled down to the
main hallway leading back north and followed it until they reached where
theyd started from. The hound sniffed the air there a moment--then
began moving east into unexplored territory.
At seeing that, Raven was so furious that she expunged a breath like the
hiss of steam.
Heading straight for the tower--its gone to warn Nostradamus!
she exclaimed to the group through gritted teeth. Move! We need to
catch it!
Caution left by the wayside, the Fellowship now broke into a virtual run
as they followed the hound, hot on the shadows trail.
Above, Nostradamus concluded that it was now time for the opening moves of
the final Gambit.
Selabbilus, he spoke, the burglars are approaching the
tower. I wish to see what they are capable of against some real opposition.
You are to move out and engage them using your most effective offensive and
defensive spells. Teach these dogs the difference between Witchery and Sorcery,
and kill some of them--other than the Bard and the Witch herself. I will
enable you to use a word of Power to escape back to the upper temple at your leisure,
where you will await the final attack.
As for you, Nostradamus now hissed to the shadow as it
fled eastward, your incompetence has rendered you useless to me. Go
to your workshop and pray I find some reason to continue your existence,
else you will greet the dawn by walking out into the courtyard and waiting
for the sunrise!
At his masters command, Selabbilus vanished, transforming into a diaphanous
pillar of light. Next, faster than could a mortal mage, he evoked spells
of protection against what he suspected Witches would cast against an undead.
Then--confidently--the light began moving down the shadowed hallways toward
the approaching intruders.
The Fellowship, meanwhile, had charged after the hound as it led the way
forward, twisting and turning its way down halls and corridors, following
the scent of whatever they were chasing. They were, Doremi realized as she
ran, close to the entrance to the tower itself now, and Raven was right--it
had to be heading for Nostradamus to warn him.
Then Selabbilus appeared.
From a bend in the corridor ahead, the darkness seemed to give way to the
light from someone approaching.
Ravens first thought as she pulled up was that someone was walking
their direction with a torch or lantern. It only took another moment for
the others to catch up as the light, some fifty feet distant, grew in
intensity--and then it was in the hallway facing them.
Possessing neither substance nor form, it was simply a soft glow that illumined
the darkness around it--a glow that was slowly moving toward them.
Liiiiiiiiche! Doremi screamed at the top of her lungs
as she slid to a halt, her throat tightening.
If it was possible, there was a brief moment in which the realization of
that was actually a relief. The group had been on edge all night waiting
for this, and for the sake of their own morale, they needed to know whether
they could, or could not, stand up against this most powerful of all undead
creatures.
And so at Doremis cry, they didnt hesitate, but sprang like lions
upon a lamb (and hopefully not lambs upon a lion), the knot of warriors surging
forward as Raven and Espidreen began casting spells.
But the Liche was already prepared.
As the men ran forward, a field of energy appeared laterally in front the
group, stretching between the walls of the corridor like a great curtain.
Thor ignored it, meaning to pass through and risk whatever it did, but the
Scandian, shocked, bounced back like hed rammed a wall of unbreakable
glass. Romulus, managing to halt just in time, slashed at the field with
his gladius, causing the field to waver slightly, but it remained in place
isolating the Liche, at least for the time being, from any direct harm from
the Fellowships warriors.
The force field was as far as Raven planned to let the monster get
as she hurled an energy bolt. The streak of energy, unaffected by
the field, hurtled east like a shooting star until it impacted with
the exact center of the glow. As it struck, there was a bright flash and
the bolt exploded, giving momentary hope that the creature could be
brought down without swords.
But the energy from the spell seemed to dissipate as it outlined the figure
at the heart of the glow. The Fellowship actually saw the monster clearly
for a moment--a skeletal, robed visage with parchment-like drapes of mummified
flesh still clinging to the limbs that had borne it in life, eyes glowing
red with hatred.
Though the Liche flinched for an instant as the energy bolt struck
home, the Mistress of Freeport had expected far more than that. Even something
as powerful as a Liche should have nearly been blown in half by the power
of her spell!
The creature had to be surrounded by some sort of protective enchantment
she hadnt counted on.
Fighters hit that force field at the same time, Raven
shouted out as she reached for another silver pellet to hurl. You can
bring it down with enough damage!
Espidreen fumbled for a scroll while trying to control her panic, then she
had it out, reading it off and dropping it to the ground as she threw a black
pearl toward the monster.
The ether ball shot past the group blocked by the Liches force
field as it targeted the monster, ignoring the field of energy. The swirling
blob of magic then struck like lightning, impacting the against the glow
in the hallway--but it dispelled like the energy bolt!
Protected from ether balls, the Witch muttered as she
reached for a different set of ingredients for the back-up
strategy.
The hound, meanwhile, had scrambled behind the party as soon as it caught
sight of the Liche. Once safely out of the line of direct fire, it plopped
down upon the floor as it sought to transform back into an Elf. Quickly,
as it could, the hounds limbs began lengthening as its fur vanished,
replaced by pink-white skin as, simultaneously, the dogs snout began
flattening out while its ears changed shape into those of an Elf.
Down the hall, the Liche, only slightly injured, had endured the best opening
volley the party was capable of delivering and was still in a position of
relative safety. And, like the opposing player in a chess game, it was now
its move.
Recovering from the energy bolt, the creature seemed to solidify,
crossing its skeletal hands before it. The hands then drew themselves into
claws as the monster concentrated and spread them out to its sides as if
parting a set of curtains.
At the movement, cubes of energy seemed to spread out from the Liche down
the hallway to the back of its force field.
Grateful the monster had invoked some new protective spell instead of
incinerating half the group with an energy blast or worse, Raven cast
in record time and immediately a globe of sunlight appeared about the monster
before it could go for a third spell.
She chose the right spell. This time, the monster felt it--and felt it
good!
The Liche emitted a ghastly combination of a hiss and a scream as the creature
shuddered and its robes began smoldering. There was no choice--it had to
move, and it instinctively drew five feet closer to the Fellowship to leave
the deadly sunlight at its back.
The fighters, meanwhile, were wasting no time in following Ravens command,
battering the force field with simultaneous blows from hammer and
swords.
Not even the power of a Liche could withstand the strength of four of the
mightiest warriors in Islay, and instantly the shimmering curtain wavered
and silently shattered into pieces like a broken mirror, the shards vanishing
as the field collapsed for good.
The men sought to press forward again--but now they found that trying to
penetrate the other spell was like trying to walk through a vat of near-solid
molasses, for they could barely move through it!
The Liches delay gave Espidreen the time she needed to attempt Plan
B. Out came a silver bell and clapper from a belt pouch, and she concentrated
for an instant, focusing her power. Then the Witch rapped the bell, lifting
it up toward the Liche.
The bell pealed sharply in the hall and a glowing spiral of sound waves visibly
spun their way through the energy field toward their intended victim. The
Liche had no time to even react before the spiral of sound struck it in the
face like a hammer, nearly driving the monster back into the globe of
sunlight.
But it held its ground as the group saw the creature shudder in pain while
large cracks began appearing in its skull and even a few chips of bone flew
off!
It was an effective attack, but even that spell couldnt kill
such a powerful monster and the Liche withstood the pain until the bell fell
silent and the effects ended.
Another energy bolt from Raven dissipated against the Liches
chest, again causing it to flinch. Yet despite the harm it had endured, the
Liche kept its composure as it now reached into the folds of its robe,
withdrawing a gladius.
Was it now going to fight, Doremi wondered from the back of the
party?
The answer came as the Liche held the weapon with its hands upon the blade
and the handle as it cast a spell. Then the monster turned the blade over
to the left, crossing its hands and releasing the sword. The blade hung in
the air a moment and then duplicated into dozens of swords flying forward,
stretching themselves out in a flat plane that filled the corridor, extending
its way toward the party.
Wall of swords! Espidreen screamed as she bolted for a
door that to her right, pushing it open even as Raven shouted out, Witches
take cover!
Doremi assumed she was included in the order, and even if she
wasnt--running seemed like the best thing to do for the situation!
So she leapt for the door, hot on Espidreens heels as the Witch jumped
inside to safety. The Bards move came none too soon, for she felt something
strike her knapsack twice as she followed the Witch through the doorway.
Fosmo, too, with the same idea, pushed in behind her, parrying away one of
the blows as he backed inside, bumping into Doremi.
She managed to keep her feet, but the Cutpurse went down on his back, though
he still managed to kick the door closed to keep out any swords that might
somehow have made their way in after them.
Outside, the three could hear the swishing swords strike the door as countless
blades appeared in the corridor a few feet above the ground, twisting and
turning as they slashed anything within reach.
At the bend of the hall behind the group, meanwhile, Cyllindrethifl had finally
regained her normal form, coming up to one knee to launch her own energy
bolt as fast as she could as the wall of swords moved toward
her.
The bolt of energy wound its way through the morass of swords and the field
of repulsive energy. Then it struck Selabbilus solidly in the face, nearly
causing the monster to lose his footing.
But still the Liche managed to remain on its feet as it prepared to cast
another spell.
So far, the Liches choice of spells was perfect, for Cyllindrethifl
was now the only effective wizard left in the hall since spell-casting was
now impossible for Raven, forced to duck this way and that as she parried
the razor sharp blades slashing about her. The men, too, now abandoned their
attempts to move through the barrier as they likewise battled this unyielding
wall of slashing blades trying to skewer them.
The men, that is, apart from Nightshadow.
Oblivious to the pain of the blows against him, the Rogue fixed his eyes
upon the enemy and bent forward, using his tremendous strength to slowly,
steadily, advance one hard step at a time toward the waiting
Liche.
Fosmo, a gash across his brow, scrambled to his feet as the others gazed
around to assure nothing even more dangerous was in the room, but the chamber
revealed itself to be some old kitchen. Stoves, sinks, tables, cupboards
and racks of cooking implements filled the place, and fortunately there were
no enemies within.
Espidreen, breathing hard, looked over and caught sight of two doors on the
east wall.
I wonder if we can get behind it, Doremi heard the Witch speak
to herself. This place may lead up and around to the hall behind the
thing if we pick the right way.
The Bard was a bit surprised at this sudden outbreak of courage, and for
a moment she made no response.
Then Espidreen looked hard at her.
Can you do anything to hurt that thing other than sing to it?!
she demanded.
Exhibiting no little amount of self control, the humble Bard forced herself
to ignore yet another insult from the Witch, and she simply held out the
lute.
I can duplicate a necromantic bell spell like you just did,
if that's good enough for you, was her response. Mine, however,
affects every Liche that hears it, though--unlike yours which only affects
one!
With satisfaction, she caught the look of surprise on Espidreens face,
and the Witch quickly formulated a plan, gazing back toward the eastern side
of the chamber where the doorways and a set of stairs beckoned.
Lets see if we can find a way that can get us around back of
the Liche, she spoke, lifting her mace from the tab on her belt.
Hurry!
Fosmo held out a hand and immediately began stammering, trying to find the
words to talk the Witch out of the idea.
Shut up and do what youre told, Burglar! Espidreen snapped
as she hurried for a door. If we can find a way around, its got
a sun globe between it and us. If the Bard and I both hit the thing,
we can kill it with two or three, necromantic bells. Well sneak
up from behind and then Ill attack. As soon as my spell goes off, you
do yours, she said to Doremi as she reached for the door ring. Then
Ill get off another. We keep it up until its dead, or one of
the fighters manages to get to him. The trick is to keep hurting him so he
cant cast! Burglar, you just keep your rapier between him and us if
he tries to fight, so we can cast.
The Witch paused as she began pulling open the door. If either of you
finds a way, come get me--Ill go through here, she told them,
nodding eastward. Dont go far, and run, screaming, if you see
anything larger than a rat!
Doremi didnt need to be told that twice, and nervously she drew
a dagger from her left bracer, crossing toward a door at the southeast corner
while Fosmo--anything but eager--ground his teeth together and very
cautiously started up a narrow stairway to the northwest.
Espidreen, meanwhile, went through hers to find a narrow hall running forward
until it jogged south. Seeing no signs of any enemies, she quickly moved
in and turned right, making for an open doorway along the eastern wall, in
hope it would emerge into a hallway or chamber that would lead to someplace
behind the monster.
Without hesitating, the Witch entered into what looked likt an L-shaped chamber.
Nothing harmful met her immediate gaze, and she took only a cursory look
about, paying no attention to the shelves holding beakers and jars, or the
tables stacked with parchments and alchemical equipment atop them.
Following the wall eastward, the Witch continued on, anxious to see if the
bend would reveal some means of ingress to the hallway back of the
Liche.
But the moment she could see the eastern side of the room, Espidreen realized
she wasnt alone.
The Witch saw it as she reached the turn of the wall: a cloaked figure, its
back to her, standing against the far wall.
The sight stopped her dead in her tracks, but--acting on sheer instinct--she
managed to keep her senses as she thrust a hand to her belt to rip off a
silver stud as the figure became aware of her presence and turned toward
her.
It was then, for a brief instant, that Espidreens eyes seemed to play
a trick on her, for she imagined she caught sight of a flash of pale white
skin wrapped in an almost ghost-like apparition of a cloak and robe. But
that image was gone when she blinked, and the Witchs mouth fell open
in shock as she paused.
Espidreen, the figure called out to her in its own shocked whisper,
my old apprentice! Youve grown up!
Doremis search hadnt taken long, for the door opened into a forgotten
storage room choked with cobwebs and crates of rotted food long turned to
dust. There were indeed some rats in the place, but these let her be as she
made her way around wooden barrels or over scattered crates and rubbish to
a door in the eastern wall. She listened at it, hearing nothing, and then--as
slowly and as quietly as she could--Doremi moved the door open a crack to
see what was behind it.
It was a corridor extending north. A few feet away was an open doorway and
she could just hear the sounds of someone speaking from inside. The Bard
now opened the door up and leaned into the hall, continuing to listen to
the muffled conversation.
It was Espidreen!
The Witch could hardly believe her eyes, and had Doremi been there she would
actually have seen a big smile spread across her face.
Arcana! she cried out in joy, for she knew her instantly. The
cherry red lips, the raven-black hair that hung down in ringlets past her
shoulders, the silken robe of midnight blue inlaid with sigils of power,
the black cloak that absorbed spells, the piercing sapphire blue eyes--it
was Arcana, all right.
And she was unchanged from the last time Espidreen had seen her twenty years
earlier.
Arcanas mouth likewise hung open in surprise. What are you doing
here?! she spoke. Did you come to find me?
Im here with Raven TenTolliver, Espidreen replied excitedly,
lowering her hand with the stud in it. Were here to kill
Nostradamus!
If it was possible, Arcana seemed even more surprised.
Just you and her? she questioned.
For some reason, Espidreens face felt numb. Still grinning, though,
she swallowed hard and went on.
Uh, we have a whole group--and Ravens far more powerful now than
she was the last time you saw her; shes a twenty-fifth-circle Witch,
and we control almost the whole world now with the merchants
guild!
Folding her hands together before her demurely, Arcana took a step further,
eyes locked on Espidreens.
Thats incredible. But how is that possible? she asked softly.
How can a mortal be a twenty-fifth-circle Witch? Only Elvyra, or a
god, can have such power.
Espidreen paused and had to wonder that for a moment herself. How
was Raven so powerful? Then she remembered--the Book! That was
it!
But the Book was a secret...a secret she wasnt supposed to reveal.
At least she didnt think she was supposed to reveal it. Actually,
she wasnt sure.
Im not...Im not s...s....
The Witch looked away, trying hard to remember the right word.
Supposed! she exclaimed, remembering. I think Im
not supposed t-to talk about it, she stammered, trying to remember
what she wasnt going to talk about, and why she
couldnt.
Espidreen could hardly speak now her face was so numb. In fact, she
couldnt even feel her lips move.
Would you like to come with us? she found herself asking. Why
are you here in this room? I thought you died.
The Witch then relaxed, dearly wanting to get some sleep. Or was it
me who died? she whispered. I dont
remember.
Ears straining to listen, Doremi crossed the hall to the doorway, trying
to make out Espidreens words. It seemed to her that Espidreen must
be talking to herself, for no one was answering and the Witchs voice
was growing softer with each spoken word.
Timidly, the Bards head peeped round the doorway to observe Espidreen
a few yards away speaking to someone or something she couldnt
see.
What was going on, she wondered?
N'Str'D'Ms captured me and forced me to help him, Espidreen heard
Arcana speak as the figure drew closer. He has bound me to this chamber,
and I cannot leave. Give me some spell ingredients to break his enchantment
and well leave together!
Espidreen barely paid attention to her words, she was so busy trying to remember
why she was there.
I want to sleep, she finally whispered.
Arcana smiled once again.
Sleep on, her liquid voice whispered back as the Witch closed
her eyes .
The Liche, ignoring the others, was directing its gaze to Nightshadow, who
was thirty feet away and advancing, foot by foot.
If it could have laughed, it would have. Instead, Selabbilus concentrated
and invoked a spell, healing nearly all the damage he had taken. Then the
Liches right arm extended back and up, lashing forward as a bolt of
black energy struck the Rogue in the face.
Nightshadows body contorted with pain as he felt the Mind Sapphire
expend extra energy to counter whatever harm the enchantment would have done
otherwise.
No doubt about it--between the swords cutting him to ribbons and the power
of the spell, this Liche packed a good punch!
At the far rear, Cyllindrethifls energy bolt was the most she
could do before needing to retreat to the hallway south to save herself.
But at least the Liches wall of swords ended at the bend there, leaving her free to attempt
a disenchantment.
The tie that binds, the tie that breaks, she spoke in
Elvish as she waved her hands toward the swords, be severed now,
whatere it takes!
The spell worked, for immediately the swords halted their slashing motions,
falling to the ground as they vanished.
Wasting no time, the Elf hurried back toward the group, reaching into a pocket
of her cloak for another silver pellet.
As the attacking swords vanished, the other heroes turned their attention
back to the repulsive wall the Liche had invoked against them. Slashing,
pushing or battering, none of them--including Thor--could bring down or make
headway against the field of energy protecting Selabbilus. He was isolated
from their physical attacks and that was all there was to it!
But Nightshadow was still advancing. The Rogue may have felt like a turtle,
but each moment, like a child taking its first small steps, he advanced closer
and closer to the monster.
The Liche, casting as fast as lightning, fired off two
energy bolts that hit him in the chest, but again Nightshadow
forced himself ahead. He was within twenty feet of the monster now and the
Liche unleashed one final attack, taking careful aim and hurling another
bolt of energy directly at the Mind Sapphire.
Both the force of the bolt and power the Talisman had to expend to
protect itself snapped the Rogue back in pain and nearly cast him to the
ground---but Nightshadow stayed on his feet and swiveled back to his foe,
cocking his scimitar back as he neared the end of the repulsive field and
the Liche trapped between he and the sun globe behind.
Thirty feet away, Raven realized the Liche was finished. Quickly, she raised
a hand as the Elf ran up, halting Cyllindrethifl as she readied an
energy bolt.
Let him take it, the Mistress of Freeport spoke.
The Liche, unconcerned, gazed at his approaching enemy with one last bony
look of contempt that he absolutely wanted Nightshadow to observe. Then
Selabbilus relaxed and calmly spoke the word,
Return.
Nothing happened.
Shocked, the Liche--its disdain of Nightshadow suddenly gone--jerked to
attention.
Return! Return! it hissed two more times.
But it was too late, and now Nightshadow was on it! He burst out of the
fields effects like a wagon lurching free of the mud, swinging Brigit
in a massive arc against the torso of the Liche--and the incredible strength
of the blow threw the monster straight into the sun
globe.
Screeching, Selabbilus burst into flame as he lurched backwards out of the
deadly sphere of sunlight to the safety of the dark hall behind. But the
Rogue stayed right with him, bringing his left scimitar across the skull
of the monster.
The Liches lower jaw flew off from the blow.
Now forced to fight for its life, the monster held its ground, raking the
inside of Nightshadows left arm with its claw. Blood spurted for a
brief instant before the Mind Sapphire closed the wound then, whirling
back and dodging as the pain left, the Rogue brought his right scimitar into
the left leg of the Liche.
There was a cracking sound, and the limb severed.
Even before Selabbilus could fall over, the left scimitar struck the right
side of his skull again, smashing it to powder.
Then it was over as a pile of bone and dust simply fell upon the carpet,
its bothersome field of energy collapsing with the death of its
creator.
Far above, Nostradamus was satisfied. He had sacrificed a rook when the only
piece he had won from his opponent so far was a humble bishop, but he had
eleven more rooks to use, and he had also learned what he needed to know:
This groups strategy was nothing special. Just the usual spells against
undead with the Witches relying on the fighters to do most of the damage.
Their skills were impressive as far as they went, but they had nothing truly
unique to threaten the waiting Conclave with.
And now, with their reasonably easy defeat of Selabbilus, they would do exactly
what he wished them to do...
Move deeper into the trap.
The Bard nervously took a step inside the room. Espidreen was mumbling very
quietly now, then she simply went limp and froze.
Doremi, watching, didnt know what to do next. She didnt move.
She didnt breathe. She simply looked and listened for a
moment.
Leave, came
the thought.
Good idea, she agreed with herself. Then--silently as any thief ever
stalked down any dark alleyway--Doremi began to back up and out of the
room.
But it was then that the worst thing that had happened to her all night
occurred.
Hello, Doremi, came a pleasant feminine voice from around the
corner.
The Bard froze in her tracks.
Enter freely, and of your own will, it added. Then it
chuckled.
That was enough.
Whatever denizen from Hell it was who knew her name was no creature she wished
to meet--and the Bard bolted for the hall, leaving Espidreen to her
fate.
She got as far as the force field blocking the doorway, nearly breaking
her nose from the collision.
Dont leave so soon, the voice encouraged.
Now trapped inside the room with whatever it was, an even worse thing befell
the humble Bard.
Come here, the voice now ordered.
Doremis heart skipped a beat and nearly stopped (which would have been
a blessing), but it didnt quite stop and the Bard didnt quite
die. She just stood there, shaking like a branch in the wind, eyes now locked
on the turn of the wall where Espidreen was frozen, waiting for something
beyond her worst nightmares to show itself.
Her legs were ready to give out, but she was too terrified to even faint,
lest she awaken in the arms of whatever the voice belonged to. Thus, she
just stood there, breathing heavily, like a mouse cornered by a cat, until
the voice spoke again.
If you dont come to me-hee...Ill come to
you-hoo....
Now it was toying with her.
Aton, if youre there, please let me die this
instant, the terrified Bard prayed, for anything had to be better than whatever
fate the voice had in mind.
But Aton didnt answer--the voice did.
I wont ask you again. Come here!
No false pleasantry this time.
Doremi felt the fog closing in on her. It was as if she was drunk and totally
helpless to resist taking a very small step forward. Then she took
another.
Visions of every possible sort of monster from Hell flooded the terrified
Bards mind. In her fear, she began imagining the various ways the creature
would torture and kill her, none of them quick enough and all of them
ghastly.
When the thing saw her, what would it do? Would it charge? Laugh maniacally?
Walk slowly toward her, drawing her fear out to the last possible moment
before it struck?
Was it a Liche? A medusa? A four-armed naga demon that would dice her into
pieces with its swords?
How horrible would it look?
A host of thoughts like these passed through her mind as she helplessly moved
further from safety and closer to whatever awaited her.
The Bard was almost to the edge of the wall now and barely able to remain
on her feet. Her throat was on fire and she knew it would only be one more
moment and one more step....
Then, slowly, knowing it would be her last moment of life and the last thing
she would ever see, Doremi forced herself to look round the edge of the wall
and greet her fate.
But there was nothing there!
Shocked, the Bard almost relaxed and took one small step to the side, standing
behind Espidreen as a shield. The chamber was actually laid out in a sort
of Z shape, and part of it to the southeast was still hidden from her sight.
Perhaps the voice was over there waiting, and shed have to move another
ten feet east and look around another wall to see what summoned
her.
Returning to sanity for an instant, Doremi kept her eyes on next turn of
the southern wall as she tugged on Espidreens robe with her left hand,
praying shed come to.
The Witch, eyes closed and softly snoring, didnt stir.
It was then that the Bard suddenly had the worst feeling of her entire life
as she sensed just where the thing was.
In the blink of an eye, she jumped sideways, whirling around to look--and
there it was, mere inches behind where she was just standing.
What met her terrified eyes was no pleasing vision of Arcana as Espidreen
had known her--Doremi saw the creature for what it actually was.
There are no words that any Bard could ever write to fully describe
the horror of the monster standing there. It is enough to say that the creature
was her own height and bore the general visage of a woman clothed in tattered,
rotting garments wavering from solid to shadow in a shimmering etheric
aura.
That was where any resemblance to a human being ended.
Two claw-like hands attached to swollen, corpse-like arms hung at the
creatures sides, palms turned inward, with the grotesquely long fingers
spread out as if ready to rend her to pieces.
Part of the upper torso of the monster showed through its robes, revealing
pasty white folds of skin varying in appearance from swollen bulbous pustules,
to parchment stretched over some of the creatures jutting ribs--one
or two of which actually showed through tears in what was left of the hide
that now covered her.
But worst of all--beyond any nightmare, beyond any wild imagination of
horror--was her face, for it was the last vestige that showed this had once
been a living woman. Yellow eyes that burned with fire stared at the Bard
past pale, cadaverous skin stretched tightly over the shrunken eye sockets
and a hole where once had been a nose.
What remained of her cracked, pallid lips now drew back into the malignant,
fanged smile of a vampire.
A vampire that hadnt eaten in a very very long time!
Doremis last chance to die of a heart attack failed, and she was now
face-to-face with the monster. At that point, she let go of her last shreds
of sanity, losing awareness of everything else to lock eyes with the
creature.
She no longer saw Espidreen. She no longer saw the room. She didnt
even see Fosmo banging against the force field blocking the door as
he screamed at the vampire, hoping to draw the creature off her.
All she saw was what was left of Arcana slowly moving toward her as, by some
last feeble bit of strength from somewhere deep inside, the Bard managed
to take a step back in a vain attempt to keep a distance between
them.
Here I was, thinking I was still the most powerful Witch in Islay and
Espidreen tells me Raven is twenty-fifth-circle. How is that possible?
Arcana asked quietly, keeping in step with Doremi.
Somehow, the creature released some of its hold upon her, allowing the Bard
to regain enough of her senses to answer.
I dont know--I just met her, she panted out.
And here I thought you two were friends, Arcana responded
quietly.
Then the eyes seemed to burn into Doremis soul.
Would you like to be my friend, Doremi? she
asked.
It was going to kill her no matter what she said, so Doremi refused to give
the monster the satisfaction of an answer. But the knowledge of how close
she was to being bitten snapped her back to reality, and--summoning all the
inner strength she had--the Bard reacted, dropping the dagger and ripping
Lydias torc from about her neck.
She hurled it straight at the Witch, watching with renewed hope as the golden
torc transformed itself into a serpent! But then, with amazing speed, the
vampire simply reached out and caught it, and the serpent wrapped about
Arcanas arm, sinking its fangs into the top of her hand.
As if she didnt even feel it, Arcana raised her arm, slowly rotating
her fist to examine the irritating little snake. Satisfied after a moment,
she reached over with her other hand to grasp the snake by the middle--and
pulled it in half!
Two pieces of a torc clattered to the ground.
I always liked Bards, Arcana said teasingly as she again grinned
at the retreating Avalonian.
By some miracle of self control, Doremi managed to keep from simply screaming
and dropping to the ground. Instead, she kept backing eastward, unable to
take her eyes off the approaching monster.
Pickety wi-hitch...pickety wi-hitch...whod like a kiss from
a pickety wi-hitch? Arcana spoke, smiling as she moved her head
back and forth with the rhyme.
In desperation, Doremi tore at her blouse for the ankh. Then, with all the
faith and boldness left that she could muster, the Bard yanked it from about
her neck and thrust it toward the vampire, shouting,
Begone!
Arcana halted and looked at the symbol, apparently wondering what is was.
Then she looked back to the Bard and took another step.
Go away!
Doremi was begging now.
Then--quick as that--the vampires right hand lashed out and snatched
it!
Doremi didnt wait--the moment the ankh left her hand, she ran around
the corner for the southeast side of the room, the last place of
retreat.
Arcana examined the ankh and then let it fall to the ground.
Close, she observed.
Then Arcana began following, delighted that fate had given her a chance to
preserve her life, for if she could bite this Bard and make her compliant,
Nostradamus would let her live--at least while he made use of his new
slave.
At the back of the room, Doremi realized she was cornered. There were no
doors to run through--just a wall lined with some shelves of spell
ingredients.
Panicking, the Bard turned to face her approaching stalker--and then she
remembered: The thunder sticks! They hurled silver pellets--and silver,
she thought, hurt vampires!
In sheer panic, Doremi ripped the first one from the baldric, reaching over
with her left hand to pull back the flint-holder until it clicked into place.
Then--shaking so bad she was sure shed miss--the Bard raised it toward
the vampire and pulled the trigger.
A few sparks flew as the flint struck the steel appendage, but nothing
more.
I used to like poems and rhymes, Arcana was saying as she slowly
advanced upon her cornered prey. Tell me a rhyme,
Doremi.
The thunder stick clattered to the floor as the Bard desperately grabbed
for the other.
No? Then Ill tell you one. I have a little pickety
hen..., the Witch began as she took another step.
Who lays some eggs every now and then...
Sometimes five and oftimes ten...
Hickety pickety--my little hen!
The final words were spat out with a tone of hatred, and Doremi knew this
was her last chance. Repeating the move, she brought the flint-holder into
place and raised the weapon. Then, closing her eyes and turning away, she
pulled the trigger.
A tremendous explosion rang out in the room and the Bard nearly broke her
hand as the thunder stick shot its pellet out and then dropped to
join its mate on the floor--as the vampire screeched in pain!
Hoping beyond hope, the Bard opened her eyes to see Arcana rubbing her right
shoulder with her left hand, looking over at the wound in
puzzlement.
The thunder stick had hurt her--but in no way had it killed
her.
Now Doremi was helplessly looking every direction for anything left that
might help--and one last, desperate hope occurred to her: Someplace--she
couldnt remember where--shed heard that vampires had some fear
of, or attraction to plant seeds of all things, and there was a jar of pumpkin
seeds in arms reach upon on a shelf with some other spell
ingredients!
Furious, though confused at the wound, Arcana was now turning back to the
Bard, ready to end the game once and for all as Doremi pulled the jar off
the shelf, ripping the top off it and thrusting her hand in to retrieve a
handful of seeds.
Look what Ive got! the Bard shouted, holding them out.
Look! Look! Look!
Arcana blinked and actually turned her head to stare at Doremis right
hand. Then the snarl melted away and the expression on her face changed from
rage to one of actual distraction.
Thinking quickly, Doremi tossed them behind Arcana and the handful of seeds
scattered to the floor a few yards away.
Arcanas gaze followed them.
Go get em! the Bard begged.
The vampire looked back for a moment, then returned to staring at the floor,
snarling and purring softly like some sort of evil feline. A swollen,
maggot-filled tongue then came out and licked the cracked lips as the monster
stood there, trying to decide what to do.
Doremi didnt wait for Arcana to make the wrong choice. She raised the
container over her head and hurled it against the eastern wall, scattering
the contents everywhere as the glass shattered.
Get the seeds! Get the seeds! she cried.
It was too much for the monster. There was a flash of movement, and then
the creature was on its knees, gathering the seeds up into a pile with lightning
speed.
The greatest athlete in Islay would have envied the way Doremi now made a
desperate combination of a jump, a leap, and a sprint to get past the beast
in half a blink of an eye.
Even as she made it, the Bard was absolutely convinced that the vampire would
reach around with its incredible speed and simply catch her by the foot to
drag her down in a last mocking act--but it didnt!
A moment later, Doremi was shaking Espidreen as hard as she could, trying
to wake her--but the Witch seemed lost to the world. Down to desperation,
the Bard then reared back and slapped her across the face as hard as she
could.
Espidreen flew back, waking up enraged from the blow.
Why, you-- she began to say, ready to strike with her
mace.
Shes a vampire--run! Doremi screamed as she hurried
past.
It took no more than for the Witch to behold the black shape across the room
scraping together a pile of seeds--and she took Doremis word for
it.
Force field! the Bard was now shouting as she came to
a halt at the exit. Disenchant it, quick!
Racing behind her, the Witch pulled up, dropping her mace as she tried--and
nearly failed--to muster enough concentration to try a
greater disenchantment, not taking any chances on breaking the
spell.
But it was at that moment Doremi saw the best thing she had ever seen in
her life: seven feet of battle-hungry Scandian appearing in the doorway and
battering the force field with his hammer.
The field wavered and nearly collapsed, but it managed to stay up.
Both women then froze, a momentary vision of remaining trapped with Arcana
racing through their heads, but suddenly Nightshadow was with Thor in the
doorway adding his blows to those of the Vikings.
The force field shattered and came down, permitting the women to flee
into the hall as the Scandian forced his way inside.
At the same time, Arcana completed her task and a blood-curdling scream arose
from the other side of the room as the enraged creature, its senses returning,
sought revenge.
Thor wasnt waiting for any help, charging straight around the bend
in the direction the scream had come from as the creature rose up, snarling,
to greet him.
It was too late for her to flee, and Arcana was now forced to fight an enemy
who seemed twice her height.
Racing in for the kill as the vampires right hand was rearing back
to strike, the Viking whipped the hammer down at Arcana with the full strength
of his massive arm--but the monster, contorting its body into nearly an S
shape in a split-second of time, caused the hammer to strike only air, throwing
Thor off balance for a moment.
Then it was Arcanas turn as she snapped upright with demonic speed,
her two claws striking like lightning, one ripping open Thors unprotected
throat as the other tore out an eye.
Blood showered like rain as the Viking, blinded, gurgling, and unable to
breathe, realized he was in deep trouble. No longer standing his ground and
fighting, he was actually backing away now, ducking behind his shield and
swinging the hammer in great arcs, trying to keep the monster at bay while
things started going black.
Incredibly, if it had been just those two, Arcana might actually have won
the fight!
But it wasnt.
Nightshadow, casting his blades to the ground, leapt at the beast, tackling
her as his hands sought to lay hold of any part that was solid enough to
grab. Thor, given a reprieve, let go of the shield and dropped to the floor,
desperately grasping for an elixir before he passed out.
For a moment, the vampire managed to break free, her claws raking
Nightshadows torso through his leather tunic. But the Rogue backhanded
her as hard as he could in response, the brass studs of his glove making
solid contact with what was left of her face.
The sheer force of the blow drove Arcana back into the wall, stunning her
for an instant--then he was on her!
It was now a wrestling match between two supernaturally strong opponents.
But despite Arcanas possessing at least as much strength as Thor himself,
the power of the Mind Sapphire was vastly superior to her own demonic
power, and the two ended up in a ball as they struggled upon the cold stone
floor.
For a few moments, they were locked in a death struggle, but it was Nightshadow
who eventually wound up on top, pinning the vampire down as she screamed
and kicked to get free.
Romulus now sought to join the fray, intending to skewer Arcana with the
trident, but a kick from her sent the big Gladiator flying across the room
into Raven and Cyllindrethifl as they were trying to cast energy
bolts.
Someone stake her! Someone stake her! Nightshadow was crying
out as his hands locked upon the monsters throat and left
arm.
It was Giles who responded, dropping sword and shield as he overturned a
table to rip away one of its legs. In the next instant, he broke it upon
his knee, splintering off a sharpened section, and rushed toward the
melee.
Arcana was now biting, clawing and kicking with everything she had left,
even biting a chunk of flesh off the Rogues arm after failing to fasten
her fangs upon his neck.
Managing to keep her away from his throat despite the pain, Nightshadow leaned
backward, pulling her up--then snapped forward, driving Arcana into the floor
with all his strength as he shifted position, rolling to his side to expose
her front.
Giles saw the opening and now brought the stake down, thrusting it into the
center of the vampires chest.
Her previous screams were nothing compared to the keen that escaped her lips
now as the stake went in. Then the Knight, with no hammer to pound with,
leaned onto the table leg with all his weight, twisting and turning it, praying
the beast would die.
Over and over, Arcana screamed, and the last thing she heard before she slipped
into the blackness of death was the voice of Nostradamus in her head telling
her to be grateful for a swifter end than she deserved.
Finally, Nightshadow felt her weaken. Then it was over as the vampires
strength departed and she collapsed into a pile of bone and dust as an
appropriately sepulchral silence descended on the chamber.
Everyone--even those not in the fight--was breathing hard, and after a few
moments when it was certain there was no possible way she could still be
alive, Giles patted the Rogue on the shoulder and Nightshadow finally released
his grip as the Knight helped him up from one of the toughest battles of
his life.
The others, save for Espidreen, now came forward, anxious to see, while Raven
leant a hand to help a recovering Thor regain his feet.
The Viking took a deep breath and spat some of the blood from his mouth.
By Wotan, he grunted, --are vampires this powerful? That
was the closest Ive come in many a long day!
She was more powerful than normal vampires, Doremi nervously
answered from a few feet away.
Ive never fought a vampire, Raven noted, releasing the
Scandians arm. But if theyre anything like that
creature, Im glad we dont have them back home.
Espidreen swallowed hard. That was Arcana, Raven, she
spoke.
What?!
The Mistress of Freeport whipped her head over and looked down to the corpse.
There was nothing recognizable about it, but she took the Witchs word
for it.
I guess we know how he got all the capture essence spells,
Raven uttered after a moment.
I thought you said forcing her to help him wouldnt work,
Romulus spoke, limping over.
Espidreen, her eyes on the tattered clothing and the dusty bones, said, I,
uh, think what he did was sacrifice her, and You-Know-Who caused her to arise
as a vampire. Hes the one who empowered her spells from that
point. A vampire created by that means would, I suppose, be more powerful
than most.
There was silence a moment as they all pondered that. Then Raven
spoke.
She deserved better. At least its over now.
The Bard came forward nervously. Could he do that to
us? she wondered as she retrieved her fallen
items.
Romulus particularly seemed to want an answer to that question. And not just
him--most everyone there started thinking twice about being there now they
were faced with one possible set of consequences.
Raven didnt respond. Instead, she looked to Espidreen and asked,
What were you all doing here?
The Witch focused back on the reality of the situation. We thought
if we could get around the back of the Liche, we could--
Whoa--whats this we stuff, eh?! Fosmo broke
in. Me told ya not to do this--yer the one wanted to run off into a
vampires lair by herself! Yer the one told ol Fosmo t hold
his tongue and--
Knock it off! Raven snapped, stopping the confrontation before
it flowered into something really bad. The idea was sound--you just
happened to run into something. But lets keep in mind, she
emphasized, we do not run off alone anywhere! If we break into smaller
groups, we stay together in smaller groups! Nobody--and I mean nobody--goes
through a door by himself without back-up; not even Thor! The only person
in this group allowed to take risks like that is Nightshadow. The rest of
us stay in groups at all times! Clear?!
A few grumbles and unenthusiastic affirmation arose in response to the point
and Raven tried to get the party back into focus.
At least our luck is still holding, she noted, taking a quick
gaze about the chamber. Because Espidreen found where Arcana was hiding,
we managed to take her out before she could warn Nostradamus. Same goes for
the Liche outside.
On hearing that, Cyllindrethifl seemed to let out an exasperated breath and
immediately began gesturing to Raven with her hands. It wasnt until
later weeks, when Raven explained to Doremi what was going on, that she
understood that a heated debate began as Cyllindrethifl, Raven and Espidreen
started communicating in a silent hand language--one that Nostradamus could
not understand.
Cyllindrethifl: Not luck. Trick!
Raven: Y U think that?
Cyllindrethifl: Did U C Liche try cast W of P? He thought would work.
He thought he have way to cast spell.
Raven: So? He wrong.
Cyllindrethifl: But he thought would work!
Raven: We know that spell not work everywhere. Maybe spell not work this
close to tower.
Cyllindrethifl: I saw look on face. He
expect it work; not
hope it work. He surprised
it not
work.
Raven: U complaining?
Cyllindrethifl: I think trick to fool us. N know we here. Sacrifice Liche
to trick us. We moving into trap.
Raven: Disagree. Y N waste good Liche? No need. We going to him quick
enough.
Cyllindrethifl: Trick! Trick! Trick!
Raven: What u think, E?
Espidreen: Not there to see, but agree R. Y waste Liche? Make no
sense.
Cyllindrethifl: Make good sense to lull us into false
hope.
Raven: We not leaving til we done, so I see no way N gain by
this.
Cyllindrethifl: We should leave.
Raven: No! Even if U right, he come at us forever in F-port if we not
kill him now. We be looking behind us forever. To late to turn back. Better
hope U wrong.
Make a quick search of this place and lets get moving,
Raven ordered, ending the discussion. Nightshadow, please watch that
hallway.
Most of the Fellowship then split off, seeking anything useful they might
take from the chamber. Apart from a stack of capture essence scrolls
that Cyllindrethifl tore to pieces, nothing else of special interest seemed
to be there apart from what might have lain within a large trunk stuffed
away in a corner. It took only a moment for the Cutpurse to determine it
was untrapped, and they opened the lid to find row after row of vials and
bottles housed inside in a series of shelves stacked within.
Espidreen took one look and exclaimed, We won the pot,
Raven!
The Mistress of Freeport rushed over, watching as Espidreen lifted a shelf
of the vials out to look at the one under it.
A potion and elixir collection! the Witch exclaimed. Raven,
I think this is a collection of every known potion and
elixir!
Raven suddenly came alive. Is there--
Yes! Espidreen exclaimed, holding up a small vial filled with
a thick, pearlescent liquid.
Raven--moving nearly as fast as Arcana--snatched the vial. Ill
make sure it gets out of here in one piece.
A less-than-pleased look passed across the Witchs features, but Raven
ignored it, tucking the vial away.
What is that? Doremi asked.
Id like to know that too, Romulus added, looking down to
her belt pouch.
Elixir of youth, I would guess, Cyllindrethifl responded
coldly.
Takes years of age off you, right? the Gladiator
questioned.
Thats right, Raven admitted.
The Galdiators eyes narrowed. Just taking it for yourself, are
you? Maybe one of us would like it!
No, Raven answered with a tone of irritation. Im
just making sure it survives, Romulus. Well add it to the treasure
we find at the end, and cast lots for it. If you want it as a pick, be my
guest. Til then, its coming with me to maximize its chances of
getting out of here with us.
The comment made sense, but something suggested to Doremi that, one way or
the other, Raven was planning on ending up with it, whatever she had to
do.
Its an evil thing--you should destroy it, Cyllindrethifl
suggested.
Raven let the comment pass as Espidreen continued rummaging through the vials
and bottles.
Elixir of rejuvenation, she announced after a few more
moments.
The Gladiator gave Doremi a look as if he wished to know what that did as
well.
Restores your power to cast spells, the Bard whispered
back.
Youve got the least amount of spells, Espy, so hold onto it,
responded Raven.
Some jars of Royal Jelly! the Witch next
announced.
Outstanding! Raven exclaimed, pleased at the horde. Grab
those and anything else we can use and lets be off.
The Battle
It took only a few moments for Espidreen to stuff some more vials into her
pouch, and the group was ready to continue. They quickly made their way back
to the large corridor--where fortunately the Liches remains were still
waiting (half the group expected them to be gone), and after retrieving a
pair of enchanted rings, a pair of daggers and four amulets off the body
for later examination, they moved forward, leaving the corpse where it
lay.
They had hardly moved past the creatures body when Doremi came to a
halt.
Hey, you hear that? she asked.
The others paused, looking to her and listening.
Hear what? Raven whispered.
I hear it, Cyllindrethifl said quietly, turning her head around
until she found the best angle. It sounds like chanting! Its
coming from someplace ahead.
The Mistress of Freeport now stiffened and brought her finger to her lips.
Then she looked over to Nightshadow and nodded. The two now took the lead,
moving a good ten yards in front of the party as they crept
forward.
The further they moved, the louder grew the chanting. They could hear it
clearly now: choral chanting of the sort performed by Necromancers in their
temples.
Can Liches chant? Doremi whispered to Cyllindrethifl.
Dont know, she whispered back, drawing a dagger. Not
like regular people, but chants are prayers, and even Liches must pray to
their gods.
They had now come to the end of the corridor and before them arose two huge
doors of bronze blocking their way. Embossed upon the surfaces of each were
inverted pentagrams encircled with glowing necromantic runes pulsing with
power.
The chanting was coming from beyond them.
Raven beckoned Fosmo forward and up came the Cutpurse to make a cursory
examination for any traps upon the door. He found none, shook his head, then
backed away, drawing both rapier and dagger.
Cyl, Espy, Raven whispered, looking back for the two
Witches.
Quickly, the two moved up through the ranks until they stood with their mistress
before the two massive portals.
Okay, lets get our strategy down.
At hearing that, Thor expelled a moan, shaking his head--and, but for the
gravity of the situation, it was almost humorous to note the differences
in attitude between he and Raven.
Why do you always plan so much?! he muttered, looking down at
her. If they do this, well do that--unless, of course they
do this instead, in which case well do this, unless doing this would
cause them to do that! Its maddening! Just kick the door in, and
fight!
He then stood there impatiently, tightening and relaxing the grip on his
hammer, waiting for leave to do what he did best.
Ignoring him, Raven outlined their moves like a chess game.
This may be it. When we open it up, if its Liches, you two hit
them with sunbursts. If its Humans, cut loose with energy
blasts. If its a combination of Liches and Humans, Espy
you energy blast and Cyl, you sunburst.
See what I mean? the Scandian grunted to Nightshadow.
Fighters, she continued, looking up, if there are Humans
in there, dont move in until the energy blast goes off. After
that, you two Witches cast to make sure any Liches are slain before you do
anything else, then target any Humans.
Abandon ether balls? Cyllindrethifl questioned.
Yeah, the Mistress of Freeport whispered back.
Espidreens ether ball didnt hurt the Liche we killed, and we dont
know how complete their protection is against the spell. It may be full
protection; it may be partial protection; it may depend on the casters
power--we just dont know. Stick to what we do know hurts
them.
Raven now addressed her cousin. Theres always the chance this
could all be an illusion. Nightshadow, were going to watch you. When
that door opens, if you see no enemies--you hold at the doorway and tell
us theres nothing there. Witches, no matter what you think you see,
dont begin to cast until Nightshadow moves in. His charge will be the
signal to cut loose, okay?
The pair nodded their understanding.
Now if Nostradamus is in there, Nightshadow--go straight for him,
she added. Ill cast one spell from the doorway and then
shift to him and attack. Get to him fast as you can.
Nightshadow nodded, tightening the grip on his swords.
Thor, Raven continued, I know you want Nostradamus, but
we need the others taken out. Throw your hammer at the Liche furthest from
us and run for him. After you take
him out, then go for Nostradamus if you wont go
for another of the Conclave.
It was clear by the look on the Vikings face he was less than pleased
at having to delay attacking the very creature hed come here to face,
but he gritted his teeth and nodded--reluctantly.
The rest of you fighters--pick your targets and go. If there are only
Humans in there, just fan out and take them down.
Raven shifted position to in front of the right-hand door. Set up,
she whispered, looking back. Witches and Doremi--stay here in the doorway.
Dont enter; let us do the fighting in there. Just cast from
the doorway. Keep one eye behind you--something in there may try to
shift behind you, and attack. Make sure you get your spell off at
him before he gets his off at you!
Having received their orders, the group moved into position with the men
lining up before the doors and the women filing to their back. Espidreen
and Cyllindrethifl readied their spell ingredients for whatever eventuality
that awaited them, then nodded to Raven.
Doremi, meanwhile, planned to do a bit more than merely watch. Hands on the
strings, soon as she saw Liches, she was going to unload a Bardic
necromantic bell.
It wouldnt kill them, but theyd feel it.
The Fellowship were prepared as they could be, and Raven grasped the handle
of the left-hand door. To her surprise, she found it was perfectly balanced
and would actually open easily. With that knowledge, she risked taking a
peep by opening it up a crack.
Out swung the door and she peered in a moment, then stiffened. She now gave
it a hard tug, and the door swung open, allowing the others to
see.
Beyond, was revealed a vast cathedral shrouded in darkness but for the shafts
of moonlight coming from a row of windows on the northern wall, and a red
feral glow from the center of the room where a great altar stood adjacent
to a towering statue of Asmodeus that looked down upon it.
This was clearly a temple to him, for rows of pews spread out toward the
center of the room, and great pillars, carved in the form of demons and other
Dark Gods, supported the arched roof.
Statues of evil figures looked down upon the floor of the temple from alcoves,
niches, mezzanines and choir lofts crafted into the walls of the huge
chamber.
The sense of evil was so strong that Doremi realized this ghastly room had
to be the very heart of the tower.
With the door open, the chanting was clearly audible, but it came from no
true worshippers: It was actually created through spells cast upon the walls,
causing the stonework to form itself into mouths from which the choral
invocations sang forth.
Surprised, Raven stepped inside, scanning every direction for enemies as
the others followed.
Weirdest temple Ive ever seen, they heard her remark as
she took the place in.
This place sickens me, Raven, Cyllindrethifl muttered, wrapping
her fur cloak about her for warmth as a draft wafted out through the open
door. Let us be quickly through it.
I recognize the invocations, Espidreen noted. Theyre
to You-Know-Who.
Why are they using spells to do it? Raven asked, puzzled at the
whole thing.
Because he craves worship, the Elf answered, and likes
a steady stream of praise directed to him.
Temples to him usually do have courses of priests chanting to him for
twenty hours a day, Espidreen added, looking about.
Well, Raven concluded, I suppose this is an efficient way
to do it.
Eh, looky here--another o them portal things, Fosmo
spoke, pointing to the wall next to the door.
They turned, and sure enough, there was another portal generator built
into the wall next to the northern door, the numbers on it turned to
902.
Nine hundred and two?! Raven exclaimed. They cant
have that many of these portal machines; weve only seen
a handful. It must be a code. The first number may refer to a level of the
School or tower, and the last two may be actual room numbers, she
speculated. Since there are, we think, nine master levels to this place,
the nine might mean the top of the tower. The zero-two must be a room on
that level.
Thats possible, Raven, Espidreen agreed, especially
when you consider that Liche may have come from here. He might have set the
device to take him back up to the top of the tower.
Which also means he has the portal this one leads to, set to take him
down here!
Espidreen nodded. Probably.
Everyone stand back, Raven ordered. Espy, see if you can
read the spell off and activate the thing.
As Raven was speaking, the Bards attention was directed to the south
side of the room where she spied a positively gigantic pipe organ against
the wall from which sprouted hundreds of brass tubes stretching nearly up
to the ceiling. Attached was a massive canvas bag, studded with glowing runes,
that flapped and moved like some large creature was trapped within, seeking
to be let out.
Look at that, organ, Doremi whispered in awe. That bag
must hold an air elemental. Ill bet it makes a sound unlike anything
in all of Islay!
Raven and the others glanced to the organ for a moment as Espidreen took
up position near the portal generator. Then, squinting, Raven slowly
turned to glare at the Bard, giving her a dont you dare touch it
look.
I wasnt going to! Doremi responded.
Espidreen was now ready, and she began reading off the spell upon the outer
ring of the generator.
Nothing happened, and the Witch looked back to Raven, shaking her head. It
may only work for them, Raven.
Nothings easy tonight, the Mistress of Freeport muttered.
Then she stepped up, trying to figure out the generator. The fact
that the outer ring could spin like the other numbered rings seemed
significant.
Do you have to position this some way before you read it? she
wondered aloud.
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke as she pointed to the far end of
the chamber, according to the maps we found, the tower is beyond a
set of doors across the room.
All right--no time for experimentation. Lets move, the
Mistress of Freeport now spoke, abandoning the machine and heading forward
between the two rows of pews.
Cautiously, the group followed as they watched for the first sound or movement
that would betray a surprise attack. Still, like virtually every other part
of the complex, this room, despite its importance, was empty of life--or
even unlife.
The temple was built differently from other parts of the School. This close
to the tower itself, almost half the room ahead was an empty space over an
aperture about forty feet across, and everyone knew what that aperture had
to be.
Part of the Pit.
A walkway extended out from the pews over the shaft, until it reached a great
circular platform of black stone. Here, there was scribed an inverted pentagram
inlaid with the leering figure of a goats head. At its center rose
a huge altar of black marble reached by thirteen steps.
Cyl, Raven spoke, coming to a halt at the walkway, give
me a check for any traps--magical or otherwise. I want to make sure that
bridge doesnt open up and drop us.
The Elf pulled up, concentrating, and scanned everything within the range
of her vision. While she did so, Doremi happened to glance at a pew next
to her. It was dusty, she noted.
Nothing, Raven, Cyllindrethifl reported.
Satisfied, Raven allowed Nightshadow to take the lead, and in a few moments
they were reaching the platform, observing that the altar was intricately
carved, its front embossed with a frieze of two ravens leaning forward to
sip from a chalice.
Doremi, meanwhile, safely braced herself against a railing of the platform
and cautiously leaned over, trying to see as far down the shaft as her vision
would allow. She noted that the stonework angled downward until it vanished
in the darkness beneath the platform. This wasnt, she concluded, the
actual Pit--but it probably led down to it.
Noticing her, Raven couldnt resist reaching out and playfully giving
her a fake shove.
Dont fall! she joked as the Bard nearly jumped out of her
skin.
The Mistress of Freeport chuckled at her own joke and then focused in on
the altar. It was eerily beautiful in its design, and upon it rested a large
black chalice--the one depicted in the frieze. Intrigued, Espidreen was ascending
the steps for a closer look, and then the Witch picked it up, her eyes
widening.
Cup of Abominations! she exclaimed in a victorious whisper,
holding it toward the group.
That good? Raven called up to her.
Yes! she answered, triumphantly descending the stairs with the
trophy.
The group looked the thing over as she returned with it, beholding that the
obsidian cup was scribed with a variety of necromantic runes. A rusty dried
residue--blood, they assumed--was encrusted around the bottom of its golden
inner cup.
Ever practical, Raven asked the Witch, Whats it
worth?
To a Necromancer, priceless! Espidreen responded in a hushed
tone. It permits them to make potions and elixirs in minutes or hours
instead of days or weeks!
Really! Will it work for us that way?
No, Espidreen replied with a tone of regret.
Well--pack it away then. Well find someone to trade it
to.
Doremi and some of the others, meanwhile, were peering up at the statue of
Asmodeus. Looking at him, one wouldnt have thought this portrayal to
represent the personification of evil. In fact, he actually looked like a
handsome, muscular man of dark countenance with a neatly trimmed goatee,
whom one would greet pleasantly on the street.
But his eyes...there was something you could see behind his squinting eyes:
A mind that dwarfed even the mental powers of Liches. A mind that could play
chess on a scale undreamed of, using an entire universe of pieces.
Awed and frightened at the thought, Doremi nervously took a step back and
turned away as she realized this being was far, far, far beyond anything
they had ever imagined.
That must be what being a god is like, she thought.
As this was going on, Cyllindrethifl had been deep in thought, her eyes scanning
the chamber. Now she broke her silence, and spoke.
Raven, I think this temple is very telling.
Umm? Raven asked, looking over to her. What do you
mean?
The Elf focused her gaze upon her mistress. Look at this place--it
doesnt give the appearance its been in actual use for quite some
time. From the dust on the pews, to the dried blood in that evil chalice,
to the sacrilege of these spells chanting for their casters--it looks like
this temple hasnt been used in years...perhaps
centuries.
Well--dont they have temples enough in the Lower
School?
Yes, the Elf admitted, but this temple seems like
it is of prime importance, and one would imagine that the Conclave--which
never leaves this place--would continue its rituals of worship here. Yet
look--its not really being used. And these--these chanting sets of
lips on the walls...can you imagine how offensive they would be to a
god?
The Elf now addressed the whole group.
The abomination of using spells to mimic true prayer is
inconceivable to me...its unthinkable! The temples in Talon would never
dishonor our goddesses by such a thing as this! she spoke, sweeping
her hand towards the statue of the Lord of Hell. And You-Know-Who wants
real worship. Hed never settle for this! These Liches seem to have
abandoned their faith for...for convenience! she concluded, searching
for the best word.
Yer sayin they aint all that religious no more, eh?
Fosmo questioned.
Yes! Cyllindrethifl confirmed.
Doremi twirl. And the implications of that are...?
That they have turned their backs on their Master, the Elf
concluded.
Espidreen looked back and forth between Cyllindrethifl and Raven. I
think I get what shes saying, the Witch spoke. Theyve
become lax in their worship--a dangerous thing to do, considering whom the
god of this School is.
Wouldnt that be good for us, then? Romulus
questioned.
Bad for them, and in
that way good for us, Gladiator.
Raven shrugged. Good--its their problem, then! Lets be
moving.
Espidreen remained still, looking off into space as she tried remembering.
They may have broken the Pact, she whispered to herself. If
so...then perhaps the legend is true.
Raven paused, turning back.
What legend? What pact? she wanted to know. And not just she,
but the whole group gave pause at the Witchs words, seeking to know
what she meant.
Espidreen took in a breath and then spoke.
There is an ancient bit of Hocwrathian lore--a legend, if you will--that
when Serpen built the School, he made a ten thousand-year Pact with You-Know-Who.
Once that Pact was over, something was supposed to happen. No one knows exactly
what, but payment of some sort was coming due.
Well--it has been ten thousand years since the First Age,
Nightshadow observed. And here we are--here to bring retribution on
the head of this School....
The Knight fidgeted. The thought of we being used in the service of
the Lord of Hell sitteth not well with me, he muttered.
I dont think you have to worry about that, Espidreen replied.
It would more likely mean that the protections and benefits You-Know-Who
would be withheld.
Maybe thats why weve been able to get this far,
Cyllindrethifl speculated.
Doremi, Raven now asked, looking over to the Bard, you
know anything about this legend of a ten thousand-year
Pact?
The humble Bard had never heard of such a thing, and thus shook her
head.
Cyl? Raven now asked.
I am aware of the tale, Raven. There was, as I recall, a poem or rhyme
supposedly about it.
Let me see if I remember it, Espidreen muttered. It went
something like...
The pact shall be tween me and thee...
Throughout an epoch of time.
My throne and power here to be...
Till nine thousand nine hundred and
ninety-nine.
So the Pact was for one year short of ten thousand years, Raven
observed.
I should point out, Raven, Cyllindrethifl noted, that the
meaning of the rhyme, even if it is true, has been debated. There are some
who believe the time specified was literal, but the majority view holds that
four nines--nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine--represents an infinite
number, meaning the Pact was an eternal one between You-Know-Who and the
School.
Raven thought for a moment. Anyone here know the exact number of years
its been since Serpen built this place--assuming Desmores wrong
and Gorus didnt build it? she asked.
Between the muttered NOs and shaking heads, no one had a
clue.
I dont think there even is a way to calculate the
Schools exact age, Raven, Espidreen postulated. The records
arent that precise.
I think, but cannot prove, Cyllindrethifl spoke, that this
School was built seven seasons before the Triad attacked us. It was, they
say, built in a single nights time with You-Know-Whos
power.
Okay, so how long was the war? Raven queried.
Doremi knew this one.
Two springs, she answered up. They attacked Avalon first,
and then we fled into the Elflands for a year until Gorus was
defeated.
Actually, theyd been killing off Gnomes and Dwarves for years
before they attacked Avalon, Espidreen noted.
From the time of the Triads defeat then, going back nine years--how
many years, exactly, has it been? Raven asked. Cyl--do you have
any idea? Would the Elves know the exact number of years?
I suppose if one counted the reigns of the seven Elvenkings, up to
Everence, you could find the exact number, replied the Elf. The
battle was fought, interestingly enough, in the nine thousandth nine hundredth
and ninety-ninth year of the reign of the first
Elvenking.
That number again, thought Doremi. There was something very mystical--and
very creepy going on, she suspected.
Eh, Elves dont live that long! Fosmo exclaimed.
Cyllindrethifl looked hard at him. In the beginning, we did. Only after
She-Who-Is-Not-Named betrayed us, did we become mortal like
you.
Whos that yer talkin about, eh?
Cyl, can you count them up and figure it out? Raven broke
in.
The Elf ignored Fosmos question to answer Ravens.
I dont know the exact number of years each king reigned, Raven.
I cant give you a better figure than what we all know--that it was
about ten thousand years ago that Gorus, Serpen and Baltarus were
defeated.
Youre a priestess of Dellendryll, and you dont know how
many seasons your seven kings ruled?! Raven asked,
incredulous.
The Elf stiffened, a bit embarrassed. Well--I had other things I needed
to learn, she responded. Besides, we Elves dont think in
terms like that. I only consciously know my own age because you insisted
I count the seasons up because you wanted to know
it!
Raven gave up on her and turned away. Doremi, do you know?
she now asked.
The Bard shook her head. Dont the Krellans keep good records?
she spoke. Wouldnt they know?
Raven shook her head. They keep good records, but theyre bad
at calendars, so I have no way of figuring it out from them. Torrencia
didnt even have its own calendar until two hundred seasons ago,
she noted, glancing to the Knight, so I guess we just arent going
to know for sure. Ill bet the Dwarves know, though--they
never forget a wrong done to them! Too bad there arent
any Dwarves in this group.
Thor looked over with a frustrated frown that he had so obviously not been
even given the courtesy of being asked the question.
Why dont you just ask a Scandian? he retorted.
Huh?
You think were too barbaric to count? he asked Raven.
From what you call the First Age, I have had one hundred and
sixty-seven fathers before me, and I can tell you exactly how long each one
lived, and what deeds he did. We Scandians always pass our tales and traditions
down to the next generation.
So you know exactly how many years have passed since the year they
defeated Gorus? Raven asked excitedly. Youre
sure?
Thor nodded. Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-two
seasons.
And if you add seven to that..., Doremi muttered.
Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine, Raven finished the
sentence.
As he listened, Nostradamus suddenly became very cold and felt very alone.
He hadnt thought about the Pact since his days as a young Wizard, for
as the Elf had said, the traditional view of the Sages was that the Pact
was to last forever, and not much thought had been given to it beyond its
being a part of ancient lore.
Now he wasnt so sure.
But whatever the case, once tonights events reached their climax, time
would mean nothing.
Lets just trust thats a good omen for us,
Raven spoke.
I hope so, Romulus muttered. The gods know if we dont
get some extra help from somewhere.
Meaning what? Raven demanded, whipping her head around toward
him.
Sensing that the time had come to air out some things, Romulus glared down
at her.
Meaning that one Liche back there gave us a devil of a time. We only
killed him off because Nightshadow got to him, and the first thing your
Witches did when he actually cast at them was to run! These Witches
of yours, whose spells are supposed to be devastating to undead,
couldnt do more than give him a scratch--and when that was the best
they could do, they turned tail and ran!
Both Cyllindrethifl and Espidreen exploded at his charge, but Raven cut them
off with a raise of her hand.
Did we kill the Liche, Romulus? Did we kill the vampire,
Romulus?
Yes--we managed to kill those two single creatures in
individual fights. But what if the two of them had fought together?
Or what if that Liche had brought along a second Liche to help
out?
What if? What if? There werent two of them; there was
one!
So what if we run into the other eleven Liches up there? What do we
do if they and Nostradamus hit at us at once? We cant take out
two of those things at once, let alone twelve! What if theyre
not holed up in the Throne room waiting for Nightshadow to walk in and kill
them for us, like you think? What if they all materialized inside this room
right now and cut loose at us? All were doing is marching to our death.
A coordinated attack by eleven of these things--with Nostradamus--is too
powerful for us to survive, and youre too stubborn to admit
it!
That comment finally set Raven off.
I will not have that defeatist talk in my presence! she hissed
in a low voice. Two more hours and Nostradamus will be dead, so instead
of spending all your time worrying about his power--maybe he should
spend his time worrying about mine!
Furious, she whirled about, a ball of plasma appearing in her palm. Then--in
a rage--she hurled it toward the northern wall. It impacted with a tremendous
explosion so large that the group was nearly thrown off its feet by the
blast--and fully a quarter of the wall was actually blown out as the blocks
of stone flew out into the night, followed by the flash of the
explosion!
Above, the Liche lurched as if hed been punched, and instantly he called
upon the power of his throne.
The blocks of stone and the shards of glass immediately halted in mid-flight
and snapped backward, becoming whole again as if the wall had healed its
own wound!
Within the temple, the entire group--instinctively hunched down from the
blast--slowly returned to their feet in utter shock as they gazed upon the
restored temple wall.
Even Raven, who hadnt moved an inch, stood there agape for a
moment.
It was Cyllindrethifl who finally broke the silence by saying, We have
greatly underestimated the power of this place.
Doremi, standing behind Raven, saw the hood move slightly as if the Mistress
of Freeport momentarily turned her head toward the Elf, but then she returned
the wakizashi to her right hand and began striding east.
Come on, she ordered, making no further comment.
Nightshadow and Thor looked at each other, then began following. There was
no question what they were going to do. Giles, too, didnt hesitate,
and moved eastward the last few yards to the portal leading into the
tower.
The women werent quite as enthusiastic. The two Witches simply looked
back and forth at each other, hesitating. Doremi, meanwhile just stood there,
hoping the group could come to some sort of consensus that would permit at
least some of them--including her--to flee this place while they could. The
Gladiator, as if his point had been made, was standing there like a statue,
while Fosmo remained by the ladies he was detailed to guard, waiting for
them to move.
Raven sensed not everyone was following, and so she paused, turning back
to the stragglers.
You coming, or not? she demanded, giving them an icy
stare.
She didnt say it, but something in her demeanor left the Bard with
the impression that the words, but if you go, you better pray I die
in here, would have been the right footnote to the question.
The two Witches now locked eyes, each seemingly wanting to take her cue from
the other. Then the choice was made, and both apprehensively began to move
toward their mistress.
Ultimately she and Cyllindrethifl may have came to the same conclusion as
Doremi about Ravens demeanor. Or, they may have decided it was simply
more dangerous to go back than to press forward. Or, they may have found
some courage they didnt know they had.
Whatever the case, they were going on.
Their decision answered the question for Doremi as well, so she--with
Fosmo--unenthusiastically fell in behind as well.
Now whos the coward? Espidreen could be overheard muttering
as she passed the Gladiator.
Romulus may have been proud. He may have been stubborn. But one thing he
wasnt, was stupid. If Nostradamus knew they were there--which he supposed
was the case--he knew hed never make it back to the ship alive by himself
unless the Liche was going to let him do so, and Nostradamus wasnt
exactly known for his compassion.
And so, as he expelled a frustrated breath, the Gladiators body relaxed
and he swallowed his pride only because he realized his best hope of survival,
slim as it was, was to go on and hope that the final moves in this game would
play out the way Raven had predicted.
Romulus deliberately avoided making eye contact with the Mistress of Freeport
as he came forward--but she knew that she had won.
Saying nothing further, Raven pivoted about and thrust her way to the fore
of the group, anxious to lead the way on.
The last barrier to Nostradamus tower now rose before them: a great
circular portal of brass over twenty feet high made of a series of leaves
that spiraled together until they locked into place, barring
passage.
The portal was set into a frieze of black marble that shamed even ravens
fireplace. It took the form of a huge bat-winged female whose fanged smile
leered out toward onlookers as a clawed hand stretched out as if calling
the portal into existence through her sorcery. A host of bats and bat-like
demons, meanwhile, swarmed about her as if she was a mother hen and they
were her children.
Gods, wha a horrible lookin thing, eh! Fosmo whispered.
Id hate t meet her on a dark an dreary
night!
Lilith, Espidreen whispered nervously. Queen of Hell, consort
of You-Know-Who, goddess of succubi, and mother of all
vampires.
Ravens eyes flew open, and she suddenly turned to the Witch. Could
Arcana have been a Lilithian vampire, Espy? she demanded.
Espidreen shook her head. The sunlight from your spell hurt her, so
no, Raven.
Thank goodness, Doremi thought! She was aware of the legend that dated from
the First Age, that the demoness had spawned a race of super vampires that
could exist even in the sunlight, and it was from these titans that the normal
vampires had come from. Fortunately they had been few in number, and all
had been slain with the Triad.
What a horrifying thought if they still existed.
They say Lilith is gone now, you know, Espidreen continued, looking
up to the figure.
What happened to her? Thor questioned the Witch.
No one knows for certain, Thor, she replied. Theres
talk she turned against and led a rebellion against You-Know-Who, and he
destroyed her--or else banished she and her followers into the darkest reaches
of Hell. Some say that Goth--who was devoted to her--convinced Serpen to
follow her, and the Triad started to fracture at that point, allowing the
Elves to eventually defeat it. But those are all just legends; no one knows
for sure. We only know that she has no followers and no power any more. The
Lilithian vampires that werent slain in the battles died when she
did.
An inscription wound its way round the rim of the portal, and Raven asked
for its meaning.
A prayer, Raven, Cyllindrethifl responded. An invocation
to You-Know-Who--or to her--to grant entrance beyond.
Speak it out, Cyl, Raven ordered.
I will not! the Elf replied, and that was that.
Irritated, Raven now looked to the other Witch.
Espy?
Espidreen--less than enthusiastic--drew in a breath and then
spoke.
O Eternal One, whose name I am unworthy to speak, grant your slave
leave to enter the place wherein you dwell, she spoke in an ancient
Hocwrathian tongue.
If it was possible, the entire room gave a spiritual shudder as the incantation
worked its magic, and a low rumbling began as the floor beneath them began
to tremble followed by the sound of metal grinding against metal as the leaves
began to part, folding up into the stonework. The power emanating from the
other side was even more palpable than the evil they felt from the temple
alone, and in moments the portal was open, beckoning them to pass beyond
if they dared.
Light flooded into the temple from the open doorway, and before them lay
Nostradamus tower in all its glory.
For a moment, no one spoke, and to say they were awed was an understatement.
The Fellowship were shocked, for what met their eyes was a vast hollow cube
with what looked to be a gigantic stalagmite soaring from the floor of the
chamber to its very topmost level, two hundred and fifty feet
above.
An eerie sort of power surged through it like electricity, for they beheld
shimmering tendrils of red plasma flowing from the base, up the trunk of
the stalagmite. Like the branches of some wicked tree, bridges and causeways
spread forth from the trunk to structures within the cube, large and small,
that seemingly floated in space through the power of whatever force gave
life to this place.
So thats where they live, Raven noted quietly, taking in
the scene.
Is it my imagination, or is this place bigger on the inside than it
is on the outside? the Gladiator questioned.
I believe youre right, Romulus, Cyllindrethifl
answered.
What is that energy field about that rock? Raven wondered
aloud.
The Elf continued looking the place over for a few moments and then
answered.
It reminds me of a perverted copy of Talon, with that rock formation
and the bridges that make branches out from it. As Talon takes its nourishment
from the Realm of Faerie, where Brigit is, this abomination takes its power
from Hell. That is the power that keeps this whole place alive...the power
that keeps Nostradamus alive....
Thats why he cant leave the Throne room! Raven
concluded.
Then she took a few steps in, craning her head up to look to the top of the
tower. The stalagmite, she observed, protruded through a circular hole far
above, in the floor of the uppermost level. Within its hollow shell were
the stairs that would take them up to the end of their quest.
A long climb it would be.
The Mistress of Freeport now sheathed the wakizashi.
Doremi, she called out, my bow, please.
Quickly, the Bard unslung her pack and untied the bow, handing it to Raven,
who drew an arrow from her belt quiver and nocked it.
All right, Raven next spoke as Doremi re-donned the pack,
final marching order: Nightshadow, youre fifty feet ahead of
us. Youre going to lead the way up to wherever that giant stairway
goes. Once you get to the top, well remain in the safety of the stairway
until you check it out for enemies. Make certain its empty!
Nightshadow slowly nodded and gazed up to the top of the tower.
Understood.
Thor, Raven continued, youre next in line. The rest
of us are ten feet behind you. Romulus and Giles--youre at the back
of the group. Keep on guard for enemies shifting behind us to
attack!
Thor removed the loop of his hammer from about his wrist as Nightshadow limped
forward.
Mjolnir, he spoke, addressing his hammer as he raised
it to his eyes, your time has come. Speed well!
That said, he waited for Nightshadow to advance fifteen yards in front of
him, then fell into line behind.
As the maps in the Athenaeum had shown, the entrance to the stalagmites
stairs was visible in its base. The Fellowship wasted no time crossing to
it and entered to mount the large square staircase crafted into the walls.
Then they began the long ascent with Nightshadow leading the way far enough
ahead of the party to keep the majority safe from any sudden
attack.
They will be with you shortly, Nostradamus spoke into the minds of
those gathered at the top level of the tower.
Prepare yourselves. Conclave--attack when they are all in the room.
Do
not hurt that Bard under any circumstances; I need her alive! Only use
spells targeting individuals. Hit those Witches and prevent them from casting!
Gypsies, you will attack after they all have been sufficiently weakened
by the Conclave. Your task is to finish off everyone other than Nightshadow
and the Bard.
His final orders given, Nostradamus anxiously held his peace, waiting for
the trap to spring.
Higher and higher the Fellowship climbed, ignoring landings to other areas
as they spiraled up within the hollow stalagmite. Legs straining, they ascended
for nearly half an hour, and then at last they approached the very top of
the tower.
As theyd seen from below, the stalagmite protruded up through the floor.
It was encircled by a railing except for where a path led out from the stairwell
into the chamber proper.
It was here that Nightshadow finally emerged in the center of a vast darkened
area.
Shadows filled the vast chamber whose walls were pocketed with innumerable
alcoves barely visible in the darkness beyond the range of the Rogues
locket. These housed statuary dedicated to the past Schoolmasters who represented
ten thousand years of Wizardry and ten thousand years of Masters who had
lorded over this School, developing the science of Magic.
Their next destination was visible in the eastern wall of the chamber next
to a portal generator: two mammoth double doors inlaid with silver
filigree that were set into a frieze once again depicting the faceless beast
Serpen.
Before the doors, standing upon a marble base as if guarding the way forward,
was a statue depicting a short, pot-bellied man with thick, slicked-back
hair (but with a receding hair line), dressed in the robes of a Wizard and
holding onto a gnarled staff.
It was Nostradamus as he had been in life--ordinary, non-intimidating, and
even unimpressive in appearance.
Not so much as the sound of a rat scurrying about came to the Rogues
ears as he paused at the stairwell, peering left and right as he tried to
see or sense any enemies lost in the shadows. The chambers distant
walls, barely perceptible in the light from his locket, vanished into total
darkness as they swept upward to the vaulted ceiling overhead.
There wasnt so much as even a slight movement of the thick, heavy air
up here, and for a moment Nightshadow had the nervous feeling they would
continue on to the Throne room to find it deserted like most of the rest
of this complex.
What then?
He didnt want to even imagine what theyd do in that eventuality,
and so he cautiously took a step inside, continuing to listen. There was
still no sound other than his own beating heart, and the Rogue now began
to investigate the room. Quickly--head constantly turning to scan every
direction--Nightshadow made a circular transit of most of the chamber. Like
a cat on the prowl, his senses were tuned to their highest pitch as he sought
for any sign of a trap. Once, he thought he might have heard the slight sound
of rustling garments, as if someone right ahead was moving about unseen.
But as he paused and looked, he saw nothing, nor did he hear the sound
again.
This was some sort of temple, he speculated. When he neared the chambers
western side, he realized it must have been to Lilith, for there was a great
statue of her in a niche behind a large altar. The Rogue continued his
examination of the area, and eventually he was satisfied that this chamber
was as empty as the temple below, so he returned to his starting point,
descending the stairs until he reached the party, who were grouped together
a few yards beneath the exit, regaining their strength from the long
climb.
Looks empty, he whispered, looking down at them from a few steps
above. A big temple of some sort, over fifty feet tall. There are alcoves
in the walls, some with statues in them, and some without. I thought I might
have heard a noise, but I think it was nothing. There are two big doors leading
east, and an altar against the western wall.
Do the alcoves go up to the ceiling? Raven asked
quietly.
Far as I can tell, yes.
The Mistress of Freeport nodded. Then she began making a fist and then opening
her left hand three times, ending by sticking out two fingers. It was clearly
some sort of code Doremi didnt know, and she wanted to ask what it
meant--but Raven immediately spoke up before she could.
Nightshadow, lead on--well keep the same marching order until
we reach the next area.
The Rogue made a nod and started climbing back up to the Gallery. Again he
paused at the exit, listening one last time, then he began trudging eastward
toward the two great doors.
Nostradamus was now looking down on the temple from overhead, watching with
delight as the first of his victims, thinking the real danger was still someplace
ahead, began moving into the maw of the waiting lion.
Thor was next to emerge from the stairway, carefully following Nightshadow
from a distance as Raven and Cyllindrethifl made their way out behind
him.
All the Gypsies, and all the hidden Conclave, saw them clearly--and readied
themselves.
But Nostradamus saw only Nightshadow.
Doremi and Espidreen next exited, and then the remaining three men filed
in behind, all following Nightshadow as he led the way toward the eastern
portals.
Slowly, but confidently, the group advanced until the last of them was a
good twenty feet from the stalagmite...
And then the battle was on!
Energy bolts, ether balls, shadow darts, and lightning bolts
suddenly began raining down on the Fellowship from both sides of the room
as the enemy sprang into action.
It was an ambush!
The Conclave, waiting all night, had secreted themselves in some of the alcoves
along both the northern and southern walls of the chamber, high above the
ground, safely isolating themselves from any attackers without a way to fly
up to them. Now, with the enemy in sight below, they were loosing the most
powerful spells they had that could kill selected targets--starting with
the Witches, who alone posed a threat with their accursed sunlight
spells.
Four energy bolts streaked down, exploding about Ravens face
and chest, and their effect was immediate: the Mistress of Freeport dropped
like a rock, the bow flying from her hands as another Liches ether
ball sucked Espidreen to her death. Meanwhile, a shadow dart,
together with three energy bolts, hit Cyllindrethifl, throwing the
Elf to the floor atop her mistress--and the helpless duo lay there, either
unconscious or dead. Finally, a lightning bolt from another of the
Conclave fried Thor in his tracks, and the Viking spun around, collapsing
to his knees as his limbs gave way from the sheer power of the electricity
surging through them.
Victory was theirs! The enemy spell-casters had been vanquished and now no
one was left who could threaten any of them with spells!
Nostradamus, however, thought they had gone mad--for they were firing at
an empty floor!
Then he realized the truth.
Its an illusion, you fools! his voice rang out through
the chamber.
But the warning came too late as the fake intruders, reacting to the spells
thrown down at them, vanished with the Conclaves wasted opening
volley.
A sunburst now shot out from the darkened entry of the stalagmite,
exploding at the upper level of the far wall. Then Cyllindrethifl jumped
out stairwell to hurl a second
sunburst at the Liches hidden along the southern wall.
A moment after the Elfs sunburst faded out,
Faire-chlaidh-ceol rang out through the chamber, wracking every Liche
in the room with a necromantic bell!
Doremi hadnt specifically been in on the plan, but as they neared the
top of the stalagmite, Espidreen had reached over to grab the Bard by the
arm as she put a finger to her lips to warn everyone to keep silent. Raven,
in front of them, then began concentrating, bringing the illusion into being,
and out stepped the false party to draw any enemies that might have been
there into wasting their attacks on a mere phantasm.
The strategy had succeeded brilliantly: The Liches had fallen for the ploy
and their error had now given the advantage and momentum to the wrong side
at the worst possible time.
Out had come the partys first two attack spells from the Witches. And
being smart enough to know that continuous damage would prevent
any Wizard from casting, Doremi rushed to play her own
necromantic bell, timing the strike of the lute to occur just after
Cyllindrethifls sunburst was spent.
Back in the Throne room, Nostradamus realized the peril that his unbeatable
Conclave was now in: they had totally wasted their opening attack, and now
the enemy had the advantage of the first effective strike. If some strategy
wasnt found immediately, there was a very real possibility the entire
Conclave would be defeated by sunbursts before they could recover
and retaliate with their own spells!
Theyve tricked you! Nostradamus shouted out in the chamber.
Defend yourselves however you must!
The real Thor, teeth gnashed together in rage, now charged out the stalagmite
toward the opposite wall, hurling his hammer up at a darkened alcove from
where hed seen the shaft of lightning come down at his imaginary
counterpart. Crackling with electricity, the hammer struck with a lightning
bolt of its own, a clap of thunder ringing out in the hollow as the area
was bathed in a blue glow from the electricity delivered to the hidden Liche.
The glow lasted only a moment and then vanished as Mjolnir came flying
back toward its owner.
As the hammer left the alcove, it was followed by the desiccated body of
a Liche that tumbled out onto the floor of the chamber below.
The second member of the Conclave had now fallen.
Spirits, attack! Nostradamus voice now echoed throughout
the chamber again.
At his command, the next wave now made its appearance from the very top of
the chamber where they had waited months for this one task: a host of undead
spirits--too many to count--swept down into the chamber beneath, heedless
of everything else but for the one single victim theyd been reserved
for...
Nightshadow.
Before he could even realize what was befalling him, the Rogue was surrounded
by a host of spectres, wraiths, shadows, fetches, shades--every possible
life-draining spirit that Nostradamus could conjure up, create, or spare
from duty down in the catacombs. Literally hundreds of the undead beasts
swarmed in on their lone target, each trying to claw at him, each trying
to drain the life from him--and each spirit getting stronger with every touch
they made against his person!
Nightshadow began swinging for all he was worth, slaying one of the transparent
figures with each strike--but there were simply too many. For each spirit
he killed, ten tried to take its place! The Mind Sapphire was glowing
nearly as brightly as his locket from the energy it expended as the spirits
drained the life from their victim. But not even Nightshadow could withstand
so many attackers, and in a few moments he was helplessly cocooned in a
translucent shroud of spirits sucking the life from him.
Back at the landing, Raven saw Nightshadows predicament. Just as quickly,
she realized that the attack could be broken in a single moment with one
well-placed sun globe targeting the Rogue. Even so, her defense strategy
required her to place a sun globe about the group for protection before
doing anything further, and thus she began to cast, trusting that Nightshadow
could hold on.
Espidreen, moving up to her side, kept up her own pre-determined strategy,
invoking a second sunburst at the far wall as soon as she ended the
first, in a desperate race to keep the Liches on the northern wall out of
the fight.
This whole battle plan, in fact, was no spur-of-the-moment strategy worked
out spontaneously on the climb up here; it was one of many strategies the
key members of the group had developed months earlier, testing it in the
underground training areas beneath Freeport usually reserved for Ravens
Assassins. Now that strategy and the training for it had paid off, for the
Liches had taken two full sunbursts, with the bonus of some
necromantic bells, without being able to respond. The Hisses of pain
from the tormented creatures trapped in their positions of supposed safety
told the story: the throat of the Conclave, stuck in a consecution of attacks
they could not break, was at the point of a dagger--and the three Witches
and one Bard were about to make the final draw without some miracle happening
to stop them.
Then the miracle came.
From one of the alcoves, a ball of plasma shot downward, exploding into an
energy blast on the landing before the stairwell.
It was the Gypsy, Nostradamus realized, and she had actually done something
useful!
Her attack suddenly reminded the Lord of the First School that he still had
a hidden force available no matter how much disdain he may have had for
them--and, like the pawns in a chess game, they could now be sacrificed to
protect the power pieces for the one precious moment they needed.
Gypsies, attack--kill those Witches! the Liche
ordered.
As Sonjas spell went off, the three Witches lost their concentration
as the spell erupted around them--but fortunately the weak
energy blast hadnt killed anyone outright.
But one thing was certain: no one had time to try and figure out how one
of the Liches had managed to get a spell off, for now the pendulum had swung
the other way and the Conclave would seek vengeance. The Fellowship needed
to recover, and recover fast!
The groups advantage gone, the females were now faced with a tough
choice: ignore their wounds and try to cast, risking death if the enemy got
off one more good attack, or go for a healing elixir and perhaps lose all
momentum in the fight while the Liches gained and kept the upper
hand.
But then Nostradamus command to the Gypsies made all that
moot.
Out of nowhere, from all parts of the room, invisible human attackers began
appearing and running toward them, blades at the ready.
Now it was the Fellowship that was at the point of destruction if something
wasnt done.
The warriors answered the call: Romulus, Giles, and even Fosmo grouped together
as a human shield before the landing, placing themselves between Cyllindrethifl,
Espidreen and the onrushing attackers while Raven--who had ventured a few
feet inside the chamber--stood her ground as she herself was attacked,
maneuvering her body in a move reminiscent of Arcanas, forcing a
Gypsys scimitar to strike only air.
Then she locked her hands about his arm and fell back to the ground, pulling
her enemy forward as her legs pushed to leverage him up.
With a scream, the Gypsy tumbled over the railing toward the ground hundreds
of feet below.
Continuing the move, Raven kicked her legs out and was suddenly on her feet
again, wrenching the wakizashi out of its sheath and over her right shoulder
as she twisted its handle and exhaled.
Instantly, a stream of glowing red dust spewed forth toward a big, bald-headed
Gypsy rushing in for his own swing.
Shrieking in pain, the Gypsy dropped his blade and stopped in mid-charge
as his hands went to his face--which had melted away like it had been dipped
in acid!
A dagger followed after the dust, embedding itself in the mans chest,
and the Gypsy dropped as Raven let go the wakizashi to draw the
katana.
Across the room, meanwhile, two Gypsies came at Thor as the hammer returned
to his hand.
Eager to greet them, the Scandian charged forward, whipping his shield into
one of the garishly-dressed enemies, throwing him back from the force of
the blow as he swung Mjolnir into the face of the second.
That Gypsys head exploded into a bloody pulp.
The other enemy, recovering and moving back with the speed of a striking
serpent, managed to duck under the shield and strike with an envenomed dagger,
drawing it across the Scandians side.
That was his one successful blow as the Viking reacted and drove him back
into a wall, pinning him there with the shield as the hammer struck the
Gypsys face.
The breath knocked out of him, the Gypsy went down for good as the hammer
hit his head a second time, drenching his white linen shirt red with his
own blood.
A normal man would now be dead from the venom used against him, but Thors
massive body and iron constitution kept him up long enough to go for an elixir
even as his extremities turned numb. Still holding onto the shield, he fumbled
with his belt pouch as he twisted and turned, assuring that no other attackers
were coming his way.
Back in the stairwell, Doremi realized the peril they were all in and turned
to strumming necromantic bells as fast as she could, trying to take
up the slack as the two Witches in front of her were forced to abandon casting
and re-position themselves to avoid the sudden onrush of Gypsies trying to
overbear the swordsmen and get at them. Unfortunately, the power of her spell,
muffled as it was from playing it inside the stairwell, wasnt working
with full efficiency, and two of the Conclave managed to endure its affects
and still act.
Energy bolts--the quickest thing Liches could cast--shot down toward
the now-exposed Witches. One struck Cyllindrethifl in the left arm like the
blow from a mace, but she remained on her feet despite a second that struck
her in the chest. The other attacker hit Espidreen in the leg with an energy
bolt and his next exploded in her face, causing the Witch to see stars as
she nearly went over the railing while urgently trying to retrieve an elixir
from her belt.
Heeding the Liches call, one of the Gypsies ducked under Giles
shield and lunged past, trying to kiss the Elf with his envenomed dagger.
Already injured from two spells, there was no time to cast and instinctively
Cyllindrethifl whipped off her cloak, hurling it in his face as she backed
up to put distance between them.
In mid-flight, the cloak transformed itself into a host of angry kittens
that stopped the Gypsy in his tracks as they latched onto him, clawing and
biting at every part they could reach! A moment later, after shed
re-focused her concentration, an energy bolt in the face finished
him off and the cats vanished, the cloak returning to its normal form. Quickly,
the Druid-Witch reached down to retrieve it, swinging it back upon her shoulders
as she likewise went for an elixir.
Of the warriors battling the Gypsies who charged them, Fosmo was actually
the most impressive as his long rapier, moving like lightning, impaled the
first Gypsy to come within five feet, then the Cutpurse pulled it free and
spun around to parry a second attackers dagger thrust. That done, he
lunged forward, his dagger laying the Gypsys throat in a blur of speed.
Fosmo then backed away, finishing him off with the rapier as he looked back
for a moment to verify the women were all right.
A third attacker, materializing from the side, went for a surprise attack,
but Fosmo caught the movement from the corner of his eye and made an underhanded
toss of the dagger, impaling it in the mans throat as he twisted to
duck a fourth attackers scimitar. Then he pivoted back, ducking, to
drive the rapier into the attackers side, skewering the Gypsy. Both
men froze there a moment as the Gypsy choked on his own blood, then Fosmo
pulled free the blade and his enemy collapsed to the ground.
Romulus, half naked in his Gladiatorial armor, might have seemed to be the
most vulnerable of the heroes, but the big Gladiator moved his small shield
like lightning, parrying two or three attacks at once while his gladius thrust
toward his enemies with the speed of a dagger and the strength of a bull.
No Gypsys blade even came close to scratching him before his enemies
lay dead with their fellows!
It was indeed a pretty intense fight down at the landing, but determined
as some of the Gypsies were to get to the two Witches, Raven seemed to be
the preferred target of others.
Four new attackers rushed her from three different directions, the first
making a wild roundhouse slash with a scimitar as he reached her. Ducking
easily, the blow missed and the Mistress of Freeport then sprang into the
air behind him, whipping the katana toward the enemy as she came down, adding
her body weight to the swing for extra power.
The Gypsy screamed and dropped as the blade ripped across his back, severing
the tendons in his neck. Then he was down.
The second was right there to pick up where his fallen mate had left off,
thrusting a poisoned gladius at her from the side, but she spun around, again
forcing the blow to fail, and a leaded heel shot out and broke one of the
attackers kneecaps as the katana nearly severed an arm.
By the time he hit the ground, he was already dead from two more
slashes.
The third attacker halted, hunching down and waiting for a double-team, but
Raven wasnt waiting, and charged straight at him.
The Gypsy, realizing he was hopelessly outclassed, desperately went on the
defensive, backing up while trying to parry, but his blade snapped as she
struck it. Another lightning-fast attack then opened him up from his waist
to his right shoulder as he spun around, vainly trying to dodge.
The katana ended the fight by thrusting into a kidney as he went
down.
The fourth attacker, a swarthy, dark-eyed Gypsy named Illya, came in slowly
behind his fallen comrade, two daggers ready, as Raven spotted him and drew
the katana around and up to the right side of her head in a defensive stance.
Illya was the highest ranking male in the band, the smartest, and the most
skilled with a blade. He knew how dangerous his opponent was, and he was
determined to battle on his terms, not hers.
Slowly, the Mistress of Freeport backed toward the railing as the Gypsy followed
like a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Illya wasnt going to make the mistake of the others, and his body was
both tense and loose at the same time as he and Raven did a dance in unison,
each keeping their weight on their back feet and adjusting their weapons
to the others movements as their eyes stayed locked, unblinking, upon
one another.
The Gypsy made the first strike, lashing out with his poisoned blades while
twisting his body in a dodge. With luck, he would break her choreographed
movements and force her into some defensive motion allowing him to close
for the kill and still avoid the deadly katana when she struck back. The
Nostradamus-made poison was all he needed--even a scratch would spell her
doom.
It was a stalemate for several moments as his quarry constantly jerked and
twisted, forcing the daggers to kiss nothing but air as they moved in arcs
and slashes at her. Illya then picked up the pace, lurching forward as his
hands became a blur, slashing and striking every direction at the hated enemy
who twisted and contorted her upper body like no human hed ever
seen.
But still he missed, and then Illya made his final move, hurling one of the
daggers in a gamble it would force her to lose concentration or else reflexively
make a block as he lunged in to slash with the other.
Instinctively, the Mistress of Freeport spun to dodge as the blade flew
past--then continued, whipping her right leg about in a great circle as she
leaned back and did a pirouette, the toe of her boot connecting with the
left side of Illyas face, leaving behind a deep gash in his tan
flesh.
The move took the big Gypsy completely by surprise and nearly stunned him
as she repeated the move, kicking his face a second time with the flat of
her foot.
The force of that attack caused the dagger to fly from his hands as he flew
back and fell over the side of the railing.
By sheer luck, a flailing arm managed to grasp hold of the railing, and Illya
spun about to lock another hand upon it, saving him from falling as he hung
there trying to find a foothold for balance, hundreds of feet above the floor
of the tower.
There werent any, and though the Gypsy may have been big, Illya could
still move like an acrobat, and was about to swing his body up and over the
railing, hoping he could avoid the enemys katana until he could continue
the fight.
Then he froze, meeting Ravens cold gaze as she stared down from above
the railing.
Her eyes would be the last thing he would ever see before she brought the
razor-sharp katana down upon his hands.
During all this, Doremi had been playing unopposed, but from one of the alcoves
came more help for the Conclave: a will O the wisp suddenly
flew down into the stairwell and hit the Bard with a bolt of lightning,
interrupting her playing.
That was what the Liches had been waiting for, and those who didnt
heal themselves immediately began launching energy bolts.
Some struck the two Witches even as the fighters dispatched the last Gypsy
attackers--but most of the Conclave couldnt resist the tempting target
of the Mistress of Freeport herself.
As she turned from Illya, five bolts of energy struck Raven solidly in the
chest, arm and shoulders, driving her backward into the railing and nearly
knocking her senseless as she instinctively reached down for an elixir. Then
a sixth, from the same alcove the energy blast and will O
the wisp had come, hit her square in the face and down she went, falling
limply to the floor, face first.
When she hit the ground, she didnt move.
Sensing victory, one of the Conclave acted to finish the enemy leader off
once and for all, and an ether ball streaked out of an alcove straight
toward Ravens body for the final blow.
Only Cyllindrethifl could stop it.
Ignoring her own pain, the Elf leapt past Giles, pulling out the right side
of her cloak as she took position before the body of her fallen
mistress.
In shot the ether ball, vanishing, and the Witch pivoted back toward
the direction the attack had come from.
The ether ball then shot back out from the folds of the cloak straight
for its caster!
Trapped in the narrow alcove, the Liche who cast the spell brought its bony
hands up to its face as it vainly tried to duck.
Their sorcery may have protected them against the Fellowships
ether balls--but they had no protection against their own! There
was a ghastly sucking sound as the Liche bent in half and was sucked through
to his death from the very spell he had meant for Raven.
More from instinct than intent, meanwhile, Espidreen managed to get a
sunburst off at the northern wall before stumbling back into the partial
safety of the stairwell where she grasped for yet another elixir.
From inside that stairwell, meanwhile, a blistered Doremi plucked
Faire-chlaidh-ceol, enacting her last necromantic
bell.
Again came the sound of the lutes strumming, but not before another
ether ball hurtled down from an alcove in the southern wall,
this time targeting Cyllindrethifl.
Glimpsing it from the side of her eye, the Elf made a spectacular pirouette,
catching it in the folds of her cloak as she whirled round, then she released
it toward another attackers alcove as she completed the
spin.
A second Liche was sucked into the Ethers.
Doremis spell may have held off some off the Conclave for one last
moment, but then the note faded away and they all began to cast in unison,
momentum now solidly on their side.
After downing the elixir, Thor, his Gypsies lying dead, turned and cocked
his hand back for a second throw at one of the alcoves--but suddenly the
ground beneath his feet became like the claws of some beast, raking his legs
like razors as it forced the Scandian to delay his attack as he jumped to
exit the affected area.
One of the other Liches, meanwhile, gambled on an all-or-nothing attack,
and sent a third ether ball straight down at the Elf.
Once more, the agile Cyllindrethifl caught it in her cloak and sent it flying
back into its owner.
With the fall of now a third member of his Conclave, Nostradamus decided
hed had enough of her.
All of you strike that Elf with energy bolts and kill her
now! he screamed into the chamber.
Had it not been for the heat of battle, who can know what might have happened
if Nostradamus had kept silent and allowed the fight to run of its own accord
until his side had won? But the order had been given, and even though the
Liches had regained the advantage, the Conclave immediately obeyed, half
of them interrupting spells they were already in the midst of to resort to
energy bolts.
At the same moment, Cyllindrethifl froze, knowing there was absolutely nothing
she could do against a host of simultaneous attacks.
Indeed, it did look like the end of the courageous Elf, but neither she nor
anyone else realized something important:
Raven wasnt quite dead.
Knowing how badly she was hurt as she went down, the Mistress of Freeport
had forced herself to stay conscious but unmoving on the floor until, despite
her wounds, she could muster up enough strength to unleash upon the Conclave
the one surprise shed been holding back for the final conflict with
Nostradamus himself.
And so, as she heard the Liches command to slay Cyllindrethifl,
Ravens head jerked up as a hand simultaneously flipped off the top
of an elixir.
Brigit! she feebly shouted while simultaneously bringing
the elixir to her lips.
At that word, the entire chamber heard Nostradamus scream out at the top
of his lungs...
And then the world seemed to end!
Time halted as an explosion unlike any theyd ever seen went off, and
every mortal being was blinded by a light so intense it was as if the sun
itself had been brought into the room.
It originated from where Raven lay, a globe of effulgent white sunlight that
burst forth with an unearthly shriek of Ethereal wind as it pulsed, sending
billows of energy rippling in every direction.
In a single instant, the host of spirits engulfing Nightshadow were blasted
into nothingness as the first wave of energy engulfed them.
The Liches werent as lucky.
Despite the wounds theyd already suffered, they could endure far more
damage than spirits, and the Conclave now found themselves battered with
wave after wave of sunlight wracking them with hellish torment.
Some threw up their skeletal hands to block their eyes. Others cringed. A
few called on their gods. But all of them--with no way of escape--stood trapped
in their alcoves, enduring a torment theyd never faced the likes of
before.
With the first wave of energy, their robes started to smolder and their
parchment-like skin began to flake away. By the time the second wave hit,
their skin was gone, leaving behind only the polished white bones that had
once borne it.
Yet the spell wore on, wracking the Conclave with one lethal
sunburst after another. Long before the enchantment even ended,
their hisses of torment vanished as what was left of their skeletons turned
to powder and collapsed into heaps within the alcoves that had become their
tombs. And as the globe of sunlight finally faded away, allowing the darkness
to return, only silence was left inside the Gallery which had now become
the Conclaves crypt.
The Fellowship were so shocked, none of them dared move for several moments
as Raven, healed from her elixir, rolled to her feet and scanned the area
with blade in hand, listening.
Espidreen, having downed her own elixir, timidly peeped out of the stalagmite,
her jaw wide open in shock.
What was that? she panted.
Cyllindrethifl, astonished that she was still alive, turned back to
her.
The Twelfth word of Power, she answered in awe. Spoken
only by the Three!
And now we know it! the Witch exclaimed. That makes
nine of them.
Cyllindrethifl had no further opportunity to comment, for at that moment
came the sound of bones rattling from across the room, and a skeleton tumbled
out of an alcove along the northern wall, falling to the flagstone
floor.
They were prepared to ignore it, thinking it was dead--but then the pile
of bones moved!
Raven and most of the rest immediately bolted for it before the creature
could try to cast or escape.
But there was no need.
Thor was first to reach it, hammer ready to finish the Liche off. But as
he came upon the creature, he paused, realizing this monster was
finished.
What lay there had once been a twentieth-circle Necromancer-Sorcerer like
Nostradamus himself.
Now it was nothing more than a quivering pile of bones, garbed in the bedraggled
remnants of once-fine robes, at the point of death and unable to defend
itself.
The Viking stood over it, staring down at the frail, pathetic monster in
its last moments of life.
The others were now joining him and Raven bent down on one knee to the Liche,
hand tightly wrapped around the katanas handle, prepared to end the
monsters misery.
Wheres Nostradamus? she asked coldly.
In a last appeal for mercy, the Liche tried to lift its left hand toward
the two doors leading east. Then it was over. The hand collapsed to dust,
the glowing red orbs of its eyes darkened and faded away, and the bones ceased
moving as the Liche died for good.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Doremi realized something.
Raven, the Bard spoke quietly, this Liche...I think it
was Precopius--Nostradamus second-in-command. The Conclave--its
all dead now! He has no Liches left!
The Mistress of Freeport said nothing in response, but nodded at Doremis
words as she stood up. That was probably how he had almost survived:
Precopius power--and the protective items he wore--almost saved
him.
Almost, but not quite.
And these people, the Bard continued as she looked back to the
fallen Gypsy bodies, --they were the Gypsies who kidnapped me a few
months ago.
She nervously grasped Ravens arm. There were two women with them,
though-- Doremi went on.
A few yards above the floor, where she was still alive and hiding in the
recess of an alcove, Sonja realized this accursed Bard, whom Olga had stubbornly
refused to kill when she had the chance, was now going set the victorious
enemies on a search for her. It would be only moments before they either
found her or cast spells to kill anything left hiding in these
alcoves.
Would that she had the power to kill both of them, but fate could only deliver
one enemy into her hands--and if that was the case, she knew what she had
to do.
And so it was, that Sonja made her decision: Spitting out the cork from a
vial she brought to her lips, she turned the container over, pouring its
contents upon the blade of the dagger she had drawn from its sheath. Then
she concentrated, invoking a shift spell from one of several enchanted
amulets about her neck.
For the Gypsies! she screamed out the moment before she
vanished.
Instinctively, the entire party turned toward the sound of the cry as, in
the next instant, Sonja appeared behind Raven and plunged the dagger between
her shoulders with both hands!
But the non-magical blade snapped as it cut through her cloak and struck
her enchanted leather armor beneath.
The response was immediate: Though the force of the blow drove her forward
in pain, instinctively Raven spun to her left, the katana raking across
Sonjas belly as the Mistress of Freeport stepped back and steadied
herself, ready for another strike at whomever had attacked her.
It wasnt necessary.
Sonja, a broken dagger in her hands, stood there looking down at a scarlet
band across her middle that spewed blood. Then the Halakah, her mouth open,
looked up, gurgling, and, knowing death was a moment away, summoned what
strength she had left to expunge a bloody spittle toward the Mistress of
Freeport in a last act of contempt.
At that, Raven went berserk.
In sheer rage, the Mistress of Freeport hurled the katana to the ground as
she leapt at the Gypsy, hands punching like lightning.
Helpless, Sonja was thrown back against a wall as Raven unleashed a rage
Doremi had never seen before, striking the Gypsy again and again in the face
with all the strength she had.
Who can say just when she died? But long before the blows ever ended, it
was over for her.
Again and again, Raven pummeled the Gypsy, using the force of her own blows
to keep the body pinned against the wall.
Sonjas face was now nothing more than a bloody mess yet still Raven
wouldnt stop. Hurling curses as she screamed her hatred for Gypsies,
she kept beating the corpse as if Sonja was still a threat.
Finally Cyllindrethifl tentatively approached.
Raven, the woman is dead, she spoke softly as she leaned toward
her mistress. Stop striking her.
But she didnt hear or didnt care, and continued battering the
corpse until the Elf reached out with both hands to grab her arm.
Raven, shes dead! Cyllindrethifl exclaimed, trying to break
the sequence of attacks. Stop!
That brought the Mistress of Freeport out of it, and she looked--wide-eyed--at
her as Sonjas lifeless body collapsed to the ground. For several moments,
the Mistress of Freeport just stood there panting, as if she didnt
know who she was or where they were as she gazed, in an almost somnambulistic
manner, at the Elf.
The sanity seemed to return as she relaxed and looked down to the corpse
lying on the floor, staring at it a moment or two.
Then she made a final kick of the dead Gypsys face and was in total
control again.
Doremi, did you say there were two of them? Raven asked unemotionally
as she extended her hand and the katana flew into it from a
cantrip.
More frightened by Ravens outburst than by most of what shed
seen this night, the Bard managed a nod.
This one--her name was Sonja. There was an old woman who headed the
clan. I--dont see her anywhere.
Cyl, the Mistress of Freeport spoke quietly, find her if
shes in this room. Find and kill her before I do.
Unwilling to let Raven face any more Gypsies, the Elf obligingly withdrew
a Y-shaped willow twig from a fold of her cloak and concentrated, moving
about in a circle as she directed it toward every direction in the
room.
Shes not here, Raven, came her report after a few moments.
Shes dead in one of those alcoves, escaped, or simply
elsewhere.
Then prepare to move on, Raven now ordered as she began walking
back to the stairwell to retrieve her dropped weapons.
In what was left of Precopius lay a variety of rings, amulets, and other
enchanted items. Fosmo was first to start the process of recovery, and it
didnt take long for most of the rest to join in.
The Liche was quickly on its way to being stripped of everything it
treasured.
Cyllindrethifl claimed as her prize a small blue ball of crystal that fit
comfortably in the palm of her hand. Suspecting it was an enchanted device
for seeing hidden things rather than for use in crystallomancy, she
pocketed it for later experimentation.
As Raven began walking, she halted in mid-stride before Romulus, who stood
silent a few yards away from the main group.
You understand now? Doremi heard her ask in a cold voice as she
locked eyes with the Gladiator. I wanted the Liche to think we were
inept! she exclaimed in a loud voice for Nostradamus benefit.
I wanted him to think we werent a threat! I wanted him to think
we had nothing but Nightshadow to threaten him with--and he fell for it.
I suspected--as you did--that he might well realize we were here and set
a trap for us, and I used that to our benefit by letting him think wed
be an easy kill. Like all my enemies, he underestimated me.
She whipped her head back toward the body of Precopius.
Now look! Theres whats left of his twelve Liches you were
so worried about, Romulus! Now theres nothing between him and us but
those doors over there. Understand now?
Whether or not the Gladiator was going to respond will never be known, for
at that moment the tower seemed to vibrate as the ground below their feet
shook.
Everyone--even Raven--gave pause at that point, wondering what this meant.
The tower shouldnt be moving, but they felt it give a
shudder.
Nostradamus felt it too.
For hours now, the water and the lava had been flowing through the groups
teleportals down into the Upper Schools front complex, and finally
they had met in the halls somewhere far below. But rather than the water
solidifying the lava and sealing off the passages between the Upper and lower
Schools as theyd planned, an explosion happened! The damage--at least
at this point--wasnt overly significant, but now the Liches attention
was drawn to what was going on beyond his tower.
Just as startled by the trembling floor as the others, the Lord of the First
School instantly let go his focus upon Raven and her group and became one
with his School, seeking to discover what the source of the shudder was that
he just felt. As he directed his consciousness to the passages leading down
to the Lower School, he realized the corridors were filling with water--and
molten rock!
Lava and water, he thought! What is this? Where is it coming
from?!
He followed the path back to the source of the flows. Then he became aware
of the enemies apparently holding the two passages to the Lower
School.
Dwarves! And Barbarians! And two Witches! Where did
they come from?! They werent on that ship. What is it they have
there? Some sort of portable
teleportals?! We cant do that--how can
they? Theyve somehow infiltrated the School with
teleportals
and are
portalling
in water and lava to seal off the Tower!
The Liche now sent his consciousness to check the
Black Widow. Still she floated inside the Aerie, with the same
two dozen deck hands unmoved from the positions theyd been in the last
time hed looked.
They must all have come from that ship. They must have hidden the
teleportals in the hold and carried them into the tower as I spent all my time
watching the Witchs progress! Fool that I am--Ive let a large
force walk unhindered into the very heart of my
School!
This game has become too costly. They are too far from the Throne room
for
me to stop; I must direct my forces to counter-attack
now before they do any more damage to the School, and it would be good to
summon a few reinforcements.
Even now, with his Conclave lying dead, the Liche had only a passing concern
of being slain by the intruders. He was more bothered over the mess being
made by them!
First, let us be sure that Throckmorton is still no threat, and we will
redirect our forces as needed.
Nostradamus began invoking more power from the throne, sending his consciousness
flying past the School, toward Serpenalik in the valley below. It flew as
fast as lightning, halting over the Second School as the Liche looked down
upon the counterpart to his own complex.
All seemed normal, with no unusual activity.
Good. He still waits to see what will happen. His forces are not prepared
for action against me. Now to verify there are no other threats coming in
from the mountains, and then we deal with the problem at
hand.
The Liches consciousness now shot high above the city as he looked
down upon the entire region, assuring himself no other forces of
Throckmortons were attempting to approach the School from another
direction.
He saw nothing over land, but then the Liche caught sight of something out
to sea, and instantly his view shifted past the coast of
Serpenalik.
What are
these?! Galleys! Dozens of war galleys headed here!
He flew toward them, stretching the limits of the thrones power to
propel him there, until he was directly over one of the ships, staring down
upon a deck covered with armed, enthusiastic-looking Legionnaires.
Legionnaires! Krellan Legionnaires! There must be thousands of them. A
whole legion, perhaps.
The Witch tricked me! She isnt attacking me with a small
force--shes assaulting me with everything she has, including a legion
of Krellans! But how? Those Plutocratic swine in the Senate have no stomach
to challenge Hocwrath. She must have convinced them--but how?
She must be mad. Even Throckmorton would join forces with me if they attempt
to land Krellans in Serpenalik. She must know that. Why is she sacrificing
them? They cant land anywhere except near his School. Once he sees
them, hell destroy them. Not even to defeat me would he allow an enemy
army a foothold in the city. Hes not that stu--
The Liche suddenly broke his concentration and sat up and, for the first
time in centuries, terror gripped him as he realized the true scope of the
forces that were arrayed against him.
He
has joined forces with her, Nostradamus realized!
He must have! Thats why theyre risking landing here. Hes
offered to join them! Once they defeat me, hell turn on whats
left of the Witch and her army and destroy them--but only after
theyve destroyed the School!
His mind now began grasping the significance of the force he faced as every
possible defensive strategy went through his head--all with the same unacceptable
results.
My mercenaries are no match for Legionnaires--the heart will leave them
at the first sight of an entire legion ascending toward them! And my School
cannot possibly defeat Nightshadow, Throckmorton and his School, and a legion
of Krellans! They have out-maneuvered me! I cannot win this!
Just as quickly, the Liches mind formulated a new plan, and he regained
control.
No...no...there is still time. It will take them at least two or three
hours to land and get up here. If I can slay Nightshadow and retrieve the
Mind
Sapphire, I can still defeat them. Then the souls of that very army will
power the
Sapphire. Yes, there is still time. But I must end this siege, and end it
now! I must dispel the enchantments around the Upper School so my Masters
can
portal in reinforcements.
No sooner had Nostradamus thought that, then his mind interrupted that plan
by speculating on how his enemy could possibly make use of it, and
immediately the Liche paused, clenching its fists in rage.
No--thats what they want, he decided! The moment I break
the enchantments, Throckmorton will
portal in his own
reinforcements to supplement the Dwarves and Barbarians against my own forces.
That, or portal his own Masters directly into my Throne room! That's
why there is no activity in the School--his Masters are with him, preparing
to attack me! With my Conclave gone, theyll join with the Witch
and assault me while my own forces are still fighting to get up here. Its
precisely the sort of strategy hed use: let someone else risk
their lives and clear the
way for him, then send his own forces in, to minimize their
losses.
Almost, Throckmorton, almost you tricked me. But not quite, and--wait!
The Gypsy!
The Liche began to laugh.
As that accursed Gypsy showed,
your School--not mine--shall be the one to fall tonight. I am assured
of that. Therefore, I am assured of victory no matter what I do. It is now
a question of the most effective Gambit to employ...unless the Gypsy was
wrong like her mother was.
The thought that Sonjas skills may not be potent enough to guarantee
the accuracy of her fortune-telling again gave the creature pause. Even so,
it was a point in his favor. And so, choosing to place his faith--and his
fate--in her word, the Liches mind ran through a whole different array
of strategies, debating which would be the most
effective.
I will not disrupt my Potencies, he concluded. But I must have
aid. I should have saved one or two of the Conclave. I should at least have
preserved that fool Precopius. No matter.
Nostradamus now spoke, his voice carrying to every corner of the
School.
A team of mercenaries has infiltrated the Upper School and is holding
both passages to the Lower School. A group of Dwarves hold the main Northern
ascent, while a group of Barbarians holds the South. Attack both groups now
with summoned creatures. The army, meanwhile, is to scale the palisades
separating the Lower and Upper Schools, and finish the intruders off. I otherwise
want all Masters and students to make their way to the Upper School from
beneath, using alternative ascent routes. The first two Masters whose forces
reach the Throne room preserve their lives; the rest die! Move, all of
you!
Down below, the First School sprang to life as thousands began rushing to
aid their lord, spurred on by Masters whose lives now depended on how quickly
they reached him. They wasted no time, for they had been awaiting the order
for battle all night--it was only a question of how long it would take them
to reach the Upper School by routes not normally used, and which two Masters
would escape Nostradamus wrath.
We have him, Raven spoke in elation after his words faded
away.
Checkmate, Nostradamus! she shouted into the air, turning round
as if that would help carry her words to the Liche. Theyll never
reach you in time--Ive sealed your tower off from your own forces!
Revenge is ours, Liche! We've waited years for this day. Oh, and don't worry
about coming to us--we'll find you!
Will
you now, the Liche thought?
Nostradamus concentrated, sending a telepathic message to his Captain of
the Host.
Nabonidas, bring a force of your best warriors into the catacombs and
use
the portal generator to reach the Throne room. Supplement
it with some Priests and Wizards. Hurry, you fool!
Now the intruders would be facing human warriors and wizards backed
with the full power of the Lord of the First School, and this fight
would go much differently than the last.
But the Liche concluded he needed to buy just a little bit of
time.
Nostradamus leaned back in his throne and began to concentrate. Then, from
behind the throne, the sound of grating stone flooded the chamber as the
floor started to shake. The rumbling lasted almost a full minute until it
finally ceased, along with the vibration.
Come out! the Liche commanded.
At the other end of the Upper School, the Vikings realized their hour was
at hand.
Rolf gazed east, toward the tower from which the voice had come. Thor, he
was certain, was at the point of slaying the Liche, and the monster was now
desperate for aid.
He and his men would assure that aid would never come.
Out into the court! he shouted, sweeping his sword
upward.
Shouting exuberantly, the Vikings now poured out of the stairwell as Rolf
halted at the head of the stairs, seeking for the smallest member of the
band. When he emerged from the shadows, the big Viking strode toward
him.
The red-bearded Scandian, no more than five feet-four inches tall, but with
muscles like iron bands, caught sight of him and stiffened as their eyes,
unblinking, met each others gaze. Oblivious to anything else happening,
neither spoke for a moment, and then Rolf reached forward to grasp the man
by the neck with his right hand, pulling him to within inches of his
face.
Jon, you are the smallest of us, he spoke loudly enough
for all of them to hear, but you are the swiftest, and always first to reach battle. Lead
us now, and we will follow!
A cheer erupted as Rolf released Jon, his eyes seeking for another of his
men. Ronessa, who had joined them earlier, found this a strange way to prepare
for battle as she tried to make her way to a good position against the wall
of the Aerie through a forest of Vikings.
Olaf, Rolf now shouted to another, I grew up
hearing tales of your fathers battles. Show me now that his blood runs
through your veins and I will sing songs of you to my own
sons!
Before the cheer died down, Rolf was speaking again.
Sten--twice you have saved my life in battle. Stand with me now,
and let our blades strike as one!
Arn--you are the greatest warrior of Narwhal Clan, and there are
none in Fire Clan who can stand up to you! Show the honor of your Clan
now!
Bjorn--just strike the right back!
The cheer turned to laughter in the same breath with that word, but Rolfs
exhortations had done their job: the Scandians were fanning themselves into
a fire that could only be quenched by blood.
They didnt have long to wait, for half the monsters conjured up below
could fly and, like a cloud of locusts, every one that could make their way
from up below was now soaring up for the attack as they began appearing over
the ramparts of the Upper School.
But the Vikings had already formed themselves into a great wedge shape with
Ronessa at the very back as the demons swept down to begin their horrid
attacks.
Some clawed. Some bit. Some used weapons. A few cast spells--but all fought
wildly, seeking to slay their mortal enemies.
Yet the Scandians held their ground.
The floor of the Throne room began to shake again, but this time more strongly,
and now rhythmically as a thumping sound in unison with the vibration of
the floor grew louder as an enormous beast ascended up the stairway and out
of the chamber it was normally forced to call home.
The hiss of its breath was as the roar of a lion, and the brute towered above
the Liches throne, looking down with undisguised contempt upon the
skeletal figure twenty feet beneath who dared command it.
Must you interrupt the pleasure I derive from guarding your spoils?
its baritone voice sarcastically thundered through the chamber.
Be still! the Liche hissed back. A fellowship of mercenaries
have infiltrated the tower. They are about to enter the room you were conjured
in. Go slay them, then return.
The Liche had given his orders, but the beast remained unmoving, breath hissing
from its nostrils.
Eye slits of yellow fire as long as the Liches arm stared downward
as the beasts horned head pivoted back and forth as it pondered the
Liches command. It too had heard Nostradamus' worried call for
assistance.
What are you waiting for? Go!
Now monster slowly started to laugh.
If you need me to destroy these mercenaries, they must be powerful,
it spoke. And if they are that close, they have overcome your other
forces. I sense the fear in you, Liche. Might it be your own army cannot
save you in time? Where is your coven of dead wizards to come to your aid--lying
dead on the ground someplace?
Nostradamus glowered at the gigantic beast. I have no time to waste
with you. I wear the Crown--do as I command!
The beast shuddered for a moment as it felt the power of the crown nearly
seize control of its limbs. But instead of obeying, it keaned forward, focusing
its eyes back on the Liche.
I sense fear in you, it repeated. You fear these people
have the power to end your pitiful existence. If theyve destroyed your
coven--which we both know must be the case--you are next.
Long have I awaited this day, the beast went on, for I
cannot be commanded to sacrifice my own existence to save yours; to do such
breaks the Binding upon me. If they are this close--and if you fear
them--they may be able to destroy me, and I therefore legally interpret your
command as an order to lay my life down for you. You cannot use the crown
to force me to obey it without freeing me!
The Liches eyes burned with rage as it locked eyes with the creature.
Leviathan--you will obey it or I will place you in torment youve
not known since Serpen himself bound you! Nostradamus threatened.
And you will endure that torment until you beg me to release you to
your task! I wont need to force you to comply--youll
willingly go!
Instead of being intimidated, the Leviathan took in a breath and spoke
again.
If they are that close, they will be here in moments. I can endure
any torment you place me under in the time it will take your enemies to reach
you. Then, once your concentration over me is broken, I vow that though the
greatest champions of Good in all Islay stand before me, I will battle
side-by-side with them to crush your bones to powder. Then I will take your
crown for myself and leave your enemies alive to gloat over your end, and
to loot all you have that I dont want!
Nostradamus squirmed in frustration. This was precisely why the Lord of the
First School had this monster assigned to do nothing more important than
guard his treasure room: it back-talked, threatened, and balked at every
opportunity. The creature only served because the throne and crown held power
over it, and typically it took at least two threats and at least one kiss
of pain to get the accursed beast to comply with even the simplest
orders.
Furious, the Liche realized the Leviathan momentarily had the advantage,
and the monster began to laugh again.
I will slay one of them, Liche, in return for my freedom, and
in return for your giving me leave to enter Hell from your Pit. Choose the
one, and choose quickly before I decide the pleasure of crushing your bones
beneath my feet is worth more to me than fighting for you to
earn my freedom.
Fine, the
Liche thought as he glared back into the face of the monster, earn it
you will! I will make you pay later.
Very well, Leviathan--earn your freedom, you shall. The one you are
to kill is called Nightshadow--one you should have slain thirty
seasons ago! You will recognize him--he wears Serpens Mind
Sapphire.
The Leviathan jumped back in surprise, his eyes widening. I cannot
attack him--if he wears the Mind Sapphire, he can command
me!
He does not know that Talisman gives him authority over you. The crown
has superior authority of command over the Sapphire anyway. So do
as I bid you--slay Nightshadow and return the Sapphire to me, then
I shall have no further need of your services.
The giant paused a moment and then leaned down until its huge face was only
a few feet away from the Liche.
Proclaim it! the monster roared, its voice shaking the entire
chamber.
Still furious, Nostradamus looked away as the words tortuously came forth
from his mouth.
I Proclaim that, if you slay Nightshadow and return the
Mind Sapphire safely to my possession, I relinquish my authority
over you, provided you thereafter leave in peace, taking no revenge. If you
want to go down to Hell where you belong, by using the Pit--be my
guest!
And if he should somehow flee, and I be unable to prevent him, my
obligation is still fulfilled, added the monster.
Pushed beyond all limits of patience, the Liche now let fly a stream of oaths
and profanity, using every vile word it had leaned in eight centuries of
existence--but in the end, it acceded to the Leviathans
demand.
The beast stood up, laughing in delight. Know that I will return in
seven years for you, Liche--if there is anything left of you to return
to!
And I will prepare a welcome for you, Boraz! Nostradamus hissed
in response. But as for this fight, dont let him strike
you, he warned--not because he cared, but in order that the monster
would win this crucial battle. Your life energy will be absorbed into
the Talisman and strengthen him. Youll also not be able to heal it
magically.
Keep your useless advice, the Leviathan responded with
contempt.
Then the beasts colossal head moved slightly as it took one last gaze
up and down at Nostradamus, who sat beneath him.
Poor, pathetic bag of moldering bones, it spoke slowly. Look
upon me and see true immortality. Look upon me and see true
power. Last of all, look upon me and see the real master. You, and
those before you, thought me your slave, and slave I was. But know this:
I was given to be your slave for our own purposes. You thought to use me,
but the truth is, we used you, and now our plan is
accomplished.
As it spoke, the monster saw the look of confusion pass across the features
of its enemy as it tried to figure out what the monster meant. It was impossible,
of course--something that gave pleasure to the Leviathan.
One last thing, Boraz continued, --whom do you think crafted
the Talisman you so covet? We made it! Yes, us. For our own purposes.
And now the time of the Leviathans is at hand, brought about by your own
greed, which we took advantage of for ourselves. Go with that knowledge,
Liche.
With that, the monster turned away and began striding toward the doors leading
out of the Throne room, the floor shaking in unison with each
step.
Back inside the temple, the Fellowship were preparing to finish the quest.
Thor and Nightshadow set themselves before the enormous silver doors eastward.
Balanced perfectly despite their mass, they swung in easily and unveiled
a great circular chamber looming beyond the entry. It was a vast columned
rotunda of polished marble that literally surged with the power of
magic.
Floor tiles of gold-laced quartz led to the center of the chamber where a
huge golden ring was crafted upon the floor. The ring encircled an enormous
glowing pentagram whose cardinal points stretched to the inner circumference
of the rune-studded circle. A field of energy, shaped like the pentagram
it sprang from, rose from floor to ceiling within the ring, and it was obvious,
just by looking at it, that whatever this thing did, it was through power
on a scale none of them had seen before.
As was the case in the portal downstairs, an ornate stairway led part way
over the pit, extending up to a large platform where a whole group of wizards
could stand and invoke the portals magic. Here, a silver lectern was
placed, and upon it rested a positively enormous black spell book that was
actually chained down so that it could not be removed.
Slowly, the group filed in, and--as if on cue--the two Witches immediately
began to ascend the stairs to the platform, the book too great a temptation
to leave until later.
Make it fast! the Mistress of Freeport ordered as she gazed across
the room to yet another set of gigantic doors.
This here pit could conjure up quite a monster, eh! Fosmo observed
as he stepped to the edge of the circle--but not one inch beyond.
No one answered the obvious.
The bridge leading to the Throne room is past those doors, Raven,
Doremi spoke, following Ravens gaze.
She nodded in response. Nightshadow, Raven then spoke as she
brought an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it, youre going
to lead the way across the bridge. Well wait and cross one at a time--I
dont want to take any chances the Liche can collapse the bridge and
cast us down the Pit. It may waste some time, but we may tie off with lines
just to be double sure.
They continued briefly in conversation with Thor and the other warriors,
and finally Raven directed her attention back to her Witches.
Lets go, you two, she called out.
Raven, this books pages are crafted from Elven silver!
Cyllindrethifl spoke in a hushed tone from the platform.
Ravens eyes flew open. Such a thing was priceless!
There is a strange spell we cant understand, Espidreen
added. Could you send the Bard up here if she can read ancient
Hocwrathian?
Raven looked back to Doremi. You read old
Hocwrathian?
I can some, Doremi responded.
Raven nodded to the stairway, and up climbed the Bard as the two Witches
moved aside to let her examine the page the book was turned to.
We need to take this with us, Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke, leaning
over the rail to her mistress. But I see no way to remove the chain
without breaking the lectern apart.
Well get the thing on the way out, her mistress promised.
Hurry up, though!
The book, Doremi noted, was a very thick tome--almost half her size--whose
cover was made of some thick pebbled leather through which a silver chain
passed, securing it to the lectern which was a part of the platforms
base. The cover, it turned out, was not actually black, but some red leather
darkened from extreme age. Even so, the pages of bluish silver inside still
glistened and literally glowed from the power of the mixture of sigils and
letters that were engraved upon them.
Wow! Doremi spoke as her eyes looked over the page.
Thats a long spell.
Ive never seen one so complicated. Does it look like anything
youve ever seen? Espidreen asked.
Doremi shook her head. Its a real ancient form of Hocwrathian
like you said. I recognize some of it, but its hard to make out. You
can tell they were stealing some of their letters from the Elves--their L
from back then looks just like the L on one of my pouches, which is
Elven.
The sigils upon Throckmortons throne also look like a corrupted
form of Elven, Cyllindrethifl added. It is no shock that Humans
would steal Magic from the Elves and turn that which is good into something
evil.
Ignoring the comment, Doremi paused and turned back a page. This spell
is right after a word of Power, a whole bunch of which he seems
to have listed, by the way.
The two Witches came to attention as they heard that.
What words?! What words?! Espidreen queried, leaning in toward
her.
Doremi, dont answer! Raven ordered from below.
Ill decide what words of Power I want those two
knowing!
If looks could kill, Raven would have been twice dead.
Staying out of the argument, Doremi returned to examining the lengthy spell.
So, is it a Sorcerer or Necromancer spell? Cyllindrethifl inquired
with a tone that still showed some irritation.
I cant tell...its strange, the Bard
responded.
Then Doremi suddenly looked up.
I think this could be an eighth rank spell! she
exclaimed.
Fosmo, who by now had moved to the eastern edge of the portal near the doors
leading east, turned back and shook his head.
Impossible--aint no such thing!
Raven glanced over to him. No, there once were, she
said.
I dont know much about magic, Nightshadow now spoke looking
back to the Witches, but I thought wizards can only cast seventh rank
spells, at best. My cousin Cassandra casts spells of that rank, but no
greater.
The gods can cast eighth rank spells, Cyllindrethifl answered.
Some say the Arch-Masters of the First Age, like Gorus and Serpen,
could as well. The Elven Masters of the First Age also, it is said, knew
spells of the eighth rank of power. This may have been Serpens own
spell book, and that spell may be an eighth rank spell he could
cast.
Does the spell have a name, Doremi? Raven called up.
Two words, Doremi replied. Ktok--I can make
that out. It means to call up...bring forth...summon--that means this
summons something. The second word I dont know...its L-V-TH-N.
Levthin? Anyone know what a Levthin is? Or is there a word
similar to that in Hocwrathian with other vowels?
Well--a livthyona is a pregnant mare, Espidreen
muttered.
Im sure this spell does more than conjure up a horse,
Espidreen, Cyllindrethifl opined.
Obviously! the Witch glared back. I was just throwing that
out!
Well--if we play with vowels, what sort of words can we create?
Doremi now wondered. Livthon?
Lovthon? she speculated.
Liveethin?
Liveeathon? Espidreen tried.
The color now drained from Cyllindrethifls face, which became as white
as her hair.
Not Leveeathon, she muttered in horror,
--Leviathan!
Ravens brow furrowed in surprise. You mean it summons a sea
monster?! she asked, looking up to her Witches. We fought a Leviathan
on my first ship. Nasty thing it was! Way bigger than this circle,
though.
The word didnt originally mean that, Raven, the Elf answered
quietly. It meant something quite different when this spell was
created.
Ravens eyes narrowed in puzzlement. What did it mean,
then?
It was Espidreen who nervously looked away from the book and
answered.
The Leviathans were a group of ultra-powerful demons from the First
Age who challenged You-Know-Who for Lordship of the Hells. They were driven
from Hell because they were so powerful he couldnt destroy them--he
could only banish them.
That is incorrect, Raven, Cyllindrethifl interjected. They
were a race of beings some called Titans--who challenged the gods with
You-Know-Who, and were also cast down to perdition with
him.
Thats not what the Hocwrathians say, Espidreen spoke, turning
back toward the Druid. They say the Leviathans were a race of demons
who joined Lilith in the rebellion, and were banished to the
sea.
The Elf stood erect and clasped her hands behind her back. The Hocwrathians
are wrong--our knowledge is older, she said confidently.
I also thought the word meant sea demon, Cyl, Raven
insisted, looking to the Elf.
It does now, Raven--in the tongue of Humans, as does even the
word orc, the Elf replied as she glanced back down. But
it is the meaning behind the words that you Humans have lost. This is one
of your many problems--you live for only a few decades, passing down your
traditions and corrupting them just a little with each new generation that
repeats the story. We, on the other hand, live far longer and thus retain
the memory of our traditions much better than you. I know of the events from
the First Age because I was told them by my great-great-grandmother, who
was told them by her great-great-great-grandmother, who was the first High
Priestess of Dellendryll, and actually there when they happened! I am less
than ten generations removed from the First Age, while you are over a hundred.
Whom then, do you think retains a more correct knowledge of those days? The
Hocwrathians, or the Elves?
That is why the word Leviathan has come to mean a beast from
the sea, Raven. But we Elves still know that the sea they came from was not
the ocean--it was the sea above us, she asserted, pointing upward.
The Leviathans came here from the sky, for once they were a host of
stars in the firmament of the heavens. But they left their Place and sought
to climb even higher, and their radiance was stripped from them, leaving
them grotesque, twisted shadows of what they once were, banished to the darkest
regions of the night sky and left to themselves.
It was actually You-Know-Who himself who led the hosts of Goodness
that overthrew them in that ancient time. But then he, in turn, sought to
do as they and climb above his own allotted Place; and to aid his doing so,
he sought out the help of the fallen of the Leviathans, promising them glory
and station if they joined their remaining powers to his own.
And so, for the second time and last time, the Leviathans came against
the gods, but now with You-Know-Who and the hosts who also followed
him. Again they failed, and this time they were expelled from
the heavens altogether.
Most were cast down to the lowest reaches of Hell, but some of the
Leviathans escaped to Jewel, and once here, they consummated their evil in
ways even more unspeakable. Some even caused men to worship them as gods.
In fact, you spoke some of their names, the Elf mentioned, looking
over to Doremi.
The bard, who likewise thought Leviathans were sea monsters, looked puzzled
at the comment.
Seth, Anubis--both Leviathans whom the Karnakis worshipped as gods,
she continued. One of the last Pharaohs realized their evil, and what
they truly were, and tried to end their worship. But the Leviathans raised
up a champion who slew he and the new religion he was starting, and they
retained their hold over Karnak for one last generation. Then Gorus, who
followed You-Know-Who, wiped out Karnak at his behest, and the worship of
the Leviathans ended forever.
Those statues we saw, the Elf continued, looking at Doremi, --the
half-human/half-animal forms? Those came about because some of the Leviathans
committed the ultimate abhorrence, and actually bred with Humans. It was
from this abomination that all the monster races--the orcs, the trolls, the
ogres, and so on--were created. We Elves call them
Nfls--Sons of the Fallen-Down Ones.
Thus, the Druid concluded, clasping her hands behind her back,
you may now see one reason why you might have encountered Elves who
left you with the impression that they think themselves superior to Humans.
It is because our blood remains pure while your blood--the blood of humankind--is
tainted with that of the Leviathans. This is why you are capable of such
evil--because the blood of the Leviathans runs through your veins since they
bred with your ancestors long ago.
There was silence for several moments as everyone took in the Elfs
comments.
Thats...odious, Doremi finally said, using the worst word
she could think of.
But the wizards all believe You-Know-Who drove some them out of Hell,
into the sea, while he chained the others up deep in Hell, Espidreen
insisted. Thats what they say happened to Lilith--that she and
some of her minions were chained at the bottom of Hell for their rebellion
against him. Do you deny that?
It was not he who punished them, Espidreen, Cyllindrethifl answered;
it was the gods, who were angered at what they did. The weaker ones--if
the word weak can be used about a Leviathan--they cast into
a pocket of Eternity called the Abyss, where they still wait, bound in chains
of darkness, yearning to be released to take vengeance on everyone: You-Know-Who,
Elves, Humans, and even the gods themselves. The princes, though, were too
powerful and escaped the fate of their fellows by fleeing into the deep parts
of Jewel to hide. Some hid in the bowels of the planet, and some did hide
in the sea. To keep them there, the gods created the dragons as rulers of
the air. The dragons were the guardians of Jewel, and the implacable enemies
of the Leviathans, for if a dragon discovered a Leviathan, it would slay
it, and the Leviathans essence would be drawn down to its eternal captivity
in the Abyss. As to what happened to Lilith specifically--whether she was
cast into the Abyss or slain at some point by a dragon--I do not
know.
A sad look passed across the Elfs features.
But as the millennia passed, and the Leviathans faded from memory,
the dragons themselves, like the Leviathans before them, became proud and
evil. Yet still they were bound to their original task, for if they found
a Leviathan, they could not do other than slay it. Goth and Serpen realized
this and attempted to breed a race of dragons, not bound to Leviathans, to
serve them. How successful they were, I cannot say. But some believe this
is where lesser dragons--such as drakes and snap dragons--came from. Thus,
the spell within that book conjures no sea monster, but may possibly summon
up a lesser Leviathan from the Abyss, or--depending on the power of the
Summoner--it might conceivably conjure up a Leviathan prince from the bowels
of Jewel...if any remain.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Elven myth, Espidreen finally muttered in disgust.
I dont know how much of this I believe either, Doremi said
quietly.
The Elf glanced to the humble Bard with a puzzled expression.
Whether you believe or not, has no bearing on truth.
Well...worry about it later, Raven exclaimed. Lets
just be glad Nostradamus cant cast eighth rank
spells.
At least so far as we know, Espidreen added.
Fosmo suddenly spoke up. Eh, Raven, he said, the floor
is vibrating...like something is...coming this way.
Immediately, Nightshadow elbowed the Cutpurse out of the way, and with a
grunt pushed one of the huge doors open a crack. He looked up and then pulled
it shut, turning back to the others.
The Rogue spoke quickly, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.
Theres a bridge through some kind of cavern on the other side.
I dont know what a Leviathan is, but I have a bad feeling it looks
like the giant coming across the bridge toward us!
Giants and bridges, muttered Thor, --somehow feels
right.
Raven grimaced and let out a frustrated breath. Quick--take
positions! she ordered. Well kill the thing and move
on.
Hurriedly, the fighters formed a rank twenty feet back from the doors, their
weapons at the ready as the women scrambled down the stairs to the floor
of the chamber.
By now, everyone could clearly feel the ground shake as something huge and
heavy walked toward them.
Cyl--how tough is a Leviathan? Raven demanded, readying her bow
and taking a quick glance over her shoulder.
Cyllindrethifl, eyes wide open in fear, shook her head.
How tough?! Raven demanded, now looking to Doremi for an
answer.
Doremi shrugged, the fear obvious in her own eyes. Like a dragon, maybe?
I dont know!
The Mistress of Freeport shook her head. Okay--swords or spells? What
hurts it?
Spells, probably not...swords, maybe, Doremi
speculated.
Maybe?! Fosmo exclaimed as he backed up toward them.
Yer sayin we might not be able to kill this
thing?!
Just when it looks like weve won, Raven
muttered.
I just mean--if, as Cyllindrethifl says, it took an Arch-Master from
the First Age to cast the spell to bring it, maybe only weapons made
by an Arch-Master--or a god--can hurt it! Im sure we have
good weapons, but has anyone got something made by a better-than-twentieth-circle
from the First Age? Im not certain that it takes arms that powerful
to strike them, but if the gods couldnt even kill these things, but
only bind them....
I think my scimitars are powerful enough, Nightshadow answered.
Theyre from the First Age. Ellendyryl herself enchanted them--and
she was daughter to the first Elvenking.
My hammer was crafted by Wotan--hell feel it! Thor
vowed.
And Priscillas blade, Giles added, his eyes fixed on the
doorway.
The floor was noticeably vibrating now, accompanied by a loud thud with each
step of the monster. Whatever was approaching would reach the door in a few
more moments, and everyone now fell silent, waiting for the portals to
open.
It took Nabonidas and his squad little time to reach the eastern end of the
Lower School, for he and his men had been waiting all night with their mounts,
prepared for whatever attack the Second School might have launched, and at
Nostradamus command, they spurred their horses to the back of the
School.
Impressing some of the spell-casters amongst the chaos back there, the group
lost no time in rushing down into the bowels of the School, making their
way to the catacombs and the single portal generator at its lowest
level that could take them directly to the Throne room, as other wizards
passed thorugh the upper levels of the catacombs seeking to reach the tower
by slower means.
They flew with all haste, showing no caution as they made their way through
corridors and down narrow steep stairways until they were at last in the
darkest and eeriest catacombs lying beneath the School. The group had made
the trip in record time (their lives, as much as anyones, depended
on that), and within a quarter-hour they were descending the last stairway
to where the portal generator would be found, in one of the bottom
chambers of the catacombs.
Nobonidas was leading the way, his sword sheathed and a torch in his hand,
when his foot touched upon a step a few yards up from the bottom, and runes
beneath his boot glowed for an instant.
It happened so quickly that he stepped on another before he could even stop
himself.
Magical traps, he realized too late--but traps that shouldnt have been
there!
Then the energy blasts went off.
They were huge bursts of energy from an obvious Master who had apparently
placed them here without telling the Host Captain! The narrow stairway literally
exploded with flame, incinerating half the force, including the Sorcerers
with them--but a good number of men still survived after the flames died
away.
That was for Arcana, they heard a gruff voice speak from the
catacomb chamber ahead.
There was no time to ponder what enemy had attacked them--instinctively,
Nabonidas drew his blade and charged forward, calling for the others to follow
as he leapt down into the camber.
Nearly losing his footing as he landed at the bottom, the veteran warrior
emerged into the chamber, his eyes searching for whomever had
spoken.
He and those who piled in behind him saw no one to fight, but even worse
than that was what did meet their eyes a few yards away, nestled amongst
the crumbling masonry of ancient sarcophagi: the portal
generators golden rings wrenched out of shape by some prying
instrument, making it inoperable.
Then, next to what was left of the device, a set of lips appeared in the
stonework and began to speak.
This is for Jen and the others.
For a brief instant, they paused in confusion. Then Nabonidas screamed out,
Run!
But it was too late. The Host Captain barely had time to turn his head and
catch sight of the tall, black-robed wizard--his invisibility spell
broken--casting down a ball of orange plasma from the head of the
stairs.
The thuds ceased as they reached the doorway, and for a moment there was
no sound other than the pounding hearts of the Fellowship. Then both portals
began to swing outward as something on the other side pulled them
open.
Most everyone had seen demons in their time--but nothing on the scale of
this! What seemed like a mountain of blackened brass formed into the shape
of a beast from the deepest reaches of Hell stared down with amusement at
the grasshoppers below it. From a pair of six-toed feet, two great legs,
more like tree trunks than limbs, supported a torso thrice the height a man
that was capped by a scaly head sprouting between a set of shoulders so wide
they could barely fit in the doorway. Two mammoth horns curved out from the
head, stretching up along the sides of a colossal diadem of brilliant brass
encircling the bony ridged cranium of the beast in stark contrast to the
huge iron collar, pulsing with runes of power, that was bound to its
neck.
It bore no weapon, but the hands of the giant looked easily able to pick
a man up and crush the life out of him. Behind the beast could vaguely be
seen the shape of its enfolded wings. Once graceful in their beauty, they
were now grotesque and tattered, bent and twisted into a form more like the
wings of a reptile than that of a bird. The creature itself had once possessed
a visage not too unlike that of Mankind, but now its own flesh had been corrupted
into a mocking conglomeration of scales, fur and sinew providing little more
than form without beauty, power without grace.
The monster spoke not a word, yet everyone before it, as if the beast had
whispered into their thoughts, comprehended its message:
Before life began, I was ancient. Before the first Elf took its first
breath, I ruled all that my eyes looked down upon. The mightiest of you is
as far below me as you are above the insects you tread upon. Your puny weapons
and spells cannot harm me. Do obeisance then, and live at my whim. Or, oppose
me and die without mercy.
None dared move or speak as the Leviathans shoulders pivoted slightly
so that it could direct its gaze to study those who dared stand before it.
Not even Thor seemed anxious to attack, but stood, his hammer held out to
his right side, ready to hurl or swing if it came to it.
A Prince, Cyllindrethifl muttered under her breath next to
Raven.
The monster somehow heard, and everyone felt a slight breeze as it took in
a breath through its cavernous mouth.
A Prince and more than a Prince, its voice boomed out as it looked
over the Fellowship --for I am a Archon.
There was silence for a moment as the monster satisfied itself that no
one--including the burglar hiding in the shadows behind a large column--posed
a threat.
Raven shot Cyllindrethifl a whats an Archon? look.
Tell them what it means! its voice thundered through the chamber
as it whipped its gaze back to the Elf, who shook like a branch in the
wind.
The Archons were the mightiest of the two hundred Leviathan princes...the
brightest and most radiant of all stars and heavenly bodies, Cyllindrethifl
answered in a hushed tone. There were, I believe, seven of them, some
of whom were worshipped as gods: the Prince of Iron, the Prince
of Fire, the Prince of Water, the Prince of Air, the
Prince of Shadows--
Princess! the beast corrected. The one you mortals call
Lillith is Princess of Shadow.
--the Prince of Bronze, she continued, and this
one, which I believe to be the Prince of Brass.
Yes, Brass, it whispered, even though its whisper was louder
than a mans shout.
Then the creature almost seemed to turn solemn as it continued.
Look upon me, for I am all of my kind who remain on this world. Semihazah,
Ramtel, Igrat--the ones you called Osiris, Seth, Ptah--all gone now. Only
three there are, who are left of our company, and all of us bound in some
means like the Others. But the day of our freedom now dawns. Our first powers
were taken from us, but we have learned new ones through you. Our Place shall
be restored!
Then, surprisingly, a look of puzzlement passed upon its features as the
Leviathan stopped speaking and seemed to sniff the air as it focused in on
Raven, who wisely had her bow nocked but lowered in a non-aggressive stance.
It said nothing for a moment as its eyes narrowed.
You smell, it then remarked to the Mistress of
Freeport.
If there was anything the Leviathan could have said that would elevate the
partys confusion over their fear, that was it.
Raven was totally flustered and was silent for a moment herself.
Uh...so Ill take a bath when I get home? she squeaked
out.
You smell like one of us, it continued. But I do not smell
our blood in you. Yet you smell like one of us, though youre not one
of us, nor are you possessed. Explain this, and if the answer amuses
me, I may show mercy to you.
Ravens face said it all--she had no idea what the beast
meant.
I, uh, would gladly do so, Sir, she finally answered politely,
but I have to be honest to say I dont know precisely what you
mean. Im not trying to be disrespectful or trick you, but I dont
understand.
A mouthy female, the Leviathan thought. I hate mouthy females.
I think Ill silence that wagging tongue of hers right
now!
Although it perceived she spoke the truth, the monster was only a moment
away from turning Raven into a smoldering pile of ash, but even as it stiffened
slightly before letting fly with a demonstration of its power, it was interrupted
by the Knight who spoke out: We have no quarrel with thee, O Prince
of Leviathans--let us pass onward!
Distracted, the beast now turned to glare at Giles, whose upraised sword
was glowing like the sun.
And let you go slay the Liche, who is like a brother to me? it
spoke sarcastically.
Art thou friend and comrade to yonder Liche, that thou standest
tween us and he as his champion? Giles continued, shouting up
to the beast. Or doeth he to thou as he doth others--bribe or force
thee into service because he be too cowardly to come fight for
himself?
Shut up, Giles, Raven was hissing under her breath to
her champion.
But the Leviathan found Giles opinion of Nostradamus to be amusing,
and half a smile passed over its features, revealing a few of its fang-like
teeth as it chuckled.
Coward, its baritone rang out through the chamber. Yes,
a coward. Even now, that dog of a Liche cowers and trembles upon his throne.
In his heart, he fears you will destroy him--something which pleases
me.
Raven now found some hope in the monsters words, and she wasted no
time in trying to work her charms upon it.
Since it seems we have the same enemy, she spoke, lowering her
bow and extending a hand up toward the beast, give us the honor of
joining you against the Liche. Let us fight with you to see him lying dead
at your feet!
As the puny little man hiding in that suit of steel has said, the Liche
has bribed me to fight for him, came the reply.
Well give you more! Espidreen suddenly exclaimed without
even thinking.
Raven scowled at her for joining the conversation, and the Witch fell silent.
Then the Mistress of Freeport turned back to the Leviathan.
Yes we will! she continued.
The Liche has Proclaimed my freedom if I battle for him, the
monster answered, with disinterest.
Well, wait! Raven exclaimed. Certainly a creature so mighty
as yourself can choose which bargain he wishes to keep!
True, thought
Boraz.
Well help you kill the Liche, and when hes dead, not only
will freedom--and revenge--be yours, well see to it you leave
here with so much treasure--
The agreement has been Proclaimed, you mouthy, serpent-tongued
flatterer, spat the Leviathan as it leaned in through the doorway to
emphasize its point, and I have no time to waste. Today is the day
I not only gain my freedom--it is the day my brothers gain
theirs as well! Only I and--one other, who is bound elsewhere--have the strength
left to force open the Abyss and release those who are chained there, for
we are Beings, not spirits! When I am free, I will fly there and free the
others--then we will take our vengeance!
The last half of the sentence was said with a rage so great that the room
shook violently, nearly throwing everyone off their balance.
When the shaking subsided, the beast lowered its voice once again. Slay
the Liche with my blessing. I have bargained, and only one of you must die.
The others I shall not restrain. But the one must die, and then I am
free.
She was afraid to ask, but Raven had to know.
Who is the one? she asked quietly.
A finger long as a staff with a fingernail sharp as a sword pointed down
to Nightshadow.
Him, was the reply.
The answer surprised the Mistress of Freeport.
I, uh, Im sorry, Raven said after a moment, but
hes a member of this Fellowship. We cant just hand him over to
his death.
Nightshadow wasnt as polite.
I dont fear you, demon, he spat, raising Brigit.
Ive slain a dragon, and Ill slay you as
well!
The beasts eyes opened wide as it came erect, a look of shock passing
across its face.
Dragon-slayer! it spoke in a whispered tone almost conveying
respect as it looked up and down at Nightshadow. A pity, for otherwise
I would bid you pass with my good will. But this day, you must die, dragon-slayer
or no. Take heart in knowing I will slay the Liche in turn, so you do not
die without his following you--eventually.
The Rogue stepped forward, raising his right scimitar. If its
a fight you want--
It is, so come forth, little man-Elf, the Leviathan roared. I
will await you!
Having spoken that, the monster stepped back, slamming shut the doors of
the chamber with a loud crash, leaving the Fellowship by
themselves.
The rest can come out with you and die with you, or they can stay here
and let you sacrifice yourself for them. One...all...no difference,
they heard the beast say as its voice faded away, leaving only the sound
of its footfalls as the monster moved out to take position.
There was silence now for several moments as the Fellowship tried to come
to grips with what they faced.
Theres not much time, Raven finally whispered. We
need a fast plan.
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke, the terror obvious in her eyes,
we cannot defeat that monster. The best plan is to run, and run now!
Weve crippled Nostradamus. Let us be satisfied with that, and
go!
Espidreen glanced over to the Elf, then blinked and looked back to Raven.
Cyllindrethifl is right, Raven, she reluctantly spoke in agreement.
That thing is one step under a god. Its beyond
us.
Angrily, Nightshadow took a step toward them. I didnt come this
far to run from a demon--even if hes a tall one! he spoke, raising
Brigit. Like I said, Ive killed a dragon and, with Brigits
help, Ill kill him too!
Would you people please stop calling this thing a demon?! an
exasperated Cyllindrethifl spoke, waving her arms. Its not a
demon! This thing is as far above a demon as Nightshadow is above a
squire!
No one spoke, and the Elf continued.
Demons are spirits; they have no true bodies. When demons are summoned
onto the Nexus, some can take on a physical form through the conjuration
ceremony, and they actually gain strength over what they normally possess
in the realm of spirits. When you kill them, what you do is dispel the physical
form they took on and send them back to Hell, where they return to their
true form and power, with a loss of prestige in the eyes of their fellows.
The Leviathans are different--they were originally stars and comets! They
were immortal, but they had bodies! Because of this, they can exist in either
realm! What you see is its actual body--or rather, the body it now
has after falling from its first state of glory!
Understand that when it enters the realm of spirit, a Leviathan
becomes infinitely more powerful than its remaining physical body permits
on the Nexus. Here, demons are weaker than they are in Hell, but Leviathans
work in the opposite manner: in Hell, they are vastly more powerful because
they bring all their power from this realm into that realm, adding the power
of the Realm of Faerie to what they already have. The only reason dragons
could kill these creatures was because they
do have physical bodies, and that body can be slain. The one
difference between Leviathans and demons is that, if destroyed on the Nexus,
the Leviathans remaining spirit essence will be drawn down not just
into Hell itself, but past that into the Abyss, where the others are bound,
there to remain a mindless, shapeless, chaotic force of raging evil, ever
in torment because it cannot take physical shape again. So please stop calling
the thing a demon--its not!
What does it mean, that it can free the others because its not
a spirit? the Bard nervously asked.
The Elf shook her head. I dont know, she answered. Some
people think the Abyss is an actual physical realm within the sphere of Eternity,
where the Leviathans are entrapped. The beast may be saying that--as a physical
being--it can sunder the physical gates holding its fellows and release them,
something a demon from Hell may not be able to do--not that it would want
to.
I wonder what would happen then, the Bard muttered.
Who can know? Cyllindrethifl whispered back. The Leviathans
may hope to return and take new forms if they can reach the Nexus again.
Or, they may have some other plan--some last great scheme they cooked up
before they fled from the face of Jewel. Maybe they plan to conquer Hell
and live
there!
Raven had only been half listening, and suddenly she looked up.
Dragons! she exclaimed, her face looking as if she had solved
a puzzle. Cyl said the dragons were made to kill these things, and
Nightshadow and Dorrik killed one! Everyone be still. I want yes-or-no answers
to the following questions: Nightshadow--yes or no--could this group kill
a dragon?
The masked face nodded. Yes--but it would kill several of us before
it went down.
Cyl, best guess: can my magic affect it? Can your magic
affect it?
Yes. No, came the Elfs hurried answer.
Espy--how many of us have weapons that can hit it?
Uh...everyone but Cyllindrethifl, the Bard, and the Burglar. The rest
of us have arms either made by you, a Deity, or someone in the First
Age.
Raven looked back to the doors leading forward. Then were still
a viable fighting force against that thing. And we know dragons could kill
Leviathans, and since we can kill a dragon--we must be able to kill a Leviathan!
Doesnt that make sense?
Raven, Cyllindrethifl spoke up, this is no ordinary Leviathan.
As Nightshadow says, hes sure to take several of us with him even if
we can kill him!
Raven considered her words for a moment.
Not if were smart and a little bit lucky, she
concluded.
Giles took a step forward. I will fight with thee, he said to
Nightshadow.
And I, Thor said, emphasizing the point by raising the
hammer.
Nightshadow shook his head. No, he spoke, turning to the men.
The Witches are right--itll kill any of you who get close to
it. The Sapphire will keep me alive. Ill kill him myself. He
cant possibly take so many blows to kill that he can drain the
Sapphire before I cut him to pieces.
Thats what worries me, Brother, Cyllindrethifl spoke up.
He knows what you possess, yet he challenged you without even considering
turning on Nostradamus with our help. He has some plan...some strategy to
negate the Sapphire--he must have! Remember, his magic predates even
Serpens. The Mind Sapphire may not draw his life energy from
him. He may know some weakness you arent aware of....
It makes no difference, Nightshadow said quietly. Ill
slay him. But if it so be I die, then avenge me.
The Mistress of Freeport was thinking fast.
No, no--the Liche is obviously controlling him, so that means the
Leviathans power cant be greater than Serpens, she
surmised.
But hes not afraid, Raven, Cyllindrethifl maintained. He
believes he can win. There must be a reason for that.
Ravens face furrowed in irritation.
Cyl, you know how demons are--theyre all arrogant, and they always
think theyre going to win, up until they get dispatched back to Hell
by your sword!
The Mistress of Freeport moved forward, the bow in her right hand, and put
her left on Nightshadows shoulder. Nightshadow, head out there
and engage him. Well watch from here. If it looks like you need help,
well come in.
At hearing that, the Knight fidgeted. Lady, we should all go out at
once. It may not be chivalrous to join combat once it beginneth, if the beast
fighteth fairly.
From beyond the portals there now came a muffled shout: Come out
now!
Giles--this is not the time! Raven snapped back to her Champion.
Then she looked over to the three women.
Witches--no matter what, stay back! Cast from the doorway only if the
situation warrants--remember, you probably cant affect him, but give
it a try if the opportunity presents itself. If you find you cant do
anything to him, try to cast something on the fighters to help
them.
What about your magic? Espidreen asked. Your magic
might get through, Raven.
I wont cast unless I think I can take him out in one shot. If
my spells can affect him, I dont want him knowing that until
its too late to guard against it--because hell go for me the
second he realizes I can hurt him. If we have to fight, Ill first try
for an assassination shot on him. Failing that, Ill switch to magic
at the opportune time.
What if he kills Nightshadow and takes the Mind Sapphire to
Nostradamus? Doremi now asked.
It wont do him any good, Nightshadow answered as he moved
toward the doors. It will be drained of energy.
Swords in hand, the Rogue now pushed his two fists against the doors and
thrust them open to reveal the chamber beyond.
Before him lay a landing thirty feet square, and from it extended a causeway
leading through a great hollow that extended from the eastern area of the
tower to its back.
At last, here was the Pit.
Beneath the causeway, a great black shaft plunged down into the very heart
of Jewel. A feral light illumined the chamber, which reached up to the very
top of the towers roof. Rough walls of brown basalt formed their way
around the causeway until they merged into another landing fronting a second
set of doors Nightshadow assumed gave ingress to the Liches Throne
room. The beast stood before these hunched down like a wrestler, its fists
opening and closing in anticipation of the fight, a final unmoving sentinel
between the Fellowship and its ultimate enemy.
Both challengers said nothing, but eyed each other for a moment,
waiting.
Nightshadow was first to move, walking forward at a fast stride toward his
waiting foe. He looked so small, thought Doremi, as he made his way toward
a beast several times his own height. Yet he showed no fear as he advanced
toward the Leviathan.
Halfway there, he called for Brigit to become enflamed, and a yellow
glow spread down the curved blade as he approached the demon. Then, as he
broke into a run to cover the last few yards, the monster enacted its own
strategy for battle: the beasts great wings spread out and the creature
lifted up above the causeway, swinging around between the earthbound warrior
and the rest of the Fellowship, out of sword reach.
Stymied, Nightshadow made a futile attempt to jump up, swinging his blades
against his opponent, but the Leviathan was now hovering twenty feet above
where he stood.
Then it attacked.
The beasts palms spread out in a fan as it brought its gigantic arms
together, aiming toward the figure below. Then two streams of white hot flame
roared out from the monster, engulfing its hapless enemy in an aura of
flame.
Hellfire, muttered Espidreen as she watched through the
open doorway. Its attacking him with
Hellfire!
Nightshadow began screaming as he was plunged into the flames of a blast
furnace, and he lurched and dodged about the bridge, trying to escape the
heat.
Come down and fight me, you coward! he managed to shout up to
his foe as he sought to stay clear.
The Leviathan emitted a fiendish laughter as its arms moved with its foe,
keeping him shrouded in fire.
No, you come up
here! it answered.
Several of the group had by now moved out onto the landing to watch the battle,
and a frown spread across Giles face as he shook his sword in
anger.
He cheateth!
It was enough for Thor. Ignoring everything else, the Viking rushed onto
the bridge. Eyes focused on the Leviathan, he paused, leaned back, and with
a grunt hurled his hammer up toward the back of the beast.
Mjolnir sailed
upward, gaining speed each moment as it trailed a blue lightning bolt. Then
the hammer ended its flight with a tremendous clap of thunder as it struck
the Leviathan in the right shoulder.
Boraz instantly let out a bellow as blue tendrils of electricity surged through
his body, momentarily causing him to lose control of his muscles. Unable
to remain in the air, the beast dropped onto the bridge in a crouch and the
entire structure shuddered with the colossal impact.
Relieved from the Hellfire, Nightshadow sprang forward, reaching the
monster in only a moment despite his limp.
Backed with all his strength, Brigit came down in a huge arc, striking the
Leviathans left leg. Nearly half the blade sunk in as the rogue
simultaneously brought Dellendryll in for two quick slashes, neither of which
penetrated the brass limb, though sparks flew from the strike.
Nightshadow then wrenched Brigit free and reared back to deliver another
blow.
Romulus, knowing the time had come to fight, leaned in toward Doremi as he
readied the trident.
Remember what I said, he spoke as he turned to charge.
The other warriors were now running toward the giant, trying to engage. Romulus
went with them, covering half the distance to the beast in a sprint. Then
he halted and pivoted his hips before he whipped back, launching the trident
toward its target.
Up it sailed, striking the Leviathan in the lower back and transforming itself
into a shaft of lightning that surged through the giant body once again.
Then it vanished, reappearing at the Gladiators feet.
All thoughts of alliance with the creature now gone, Raven pulled back the
bowstring and let fly a shot into the back of the Leviathan where its kidney
would be if it had one.
The arrow bounced off.
Giles continued past the Gladiator, slinging the shield around his shoulder
as he brought both hands onto the hilt of the sword, raising it over his
right shoulder to deliver one massive blow as Thor paused, his mighty right
arm catching the returning hammer.
The Leviathan now knew it had grossly underestimated the power of the force
arrayed against it. The creature supposed itself to be safe from attack by
anything other than useless spells and a few puny missile weapons, but the
Scandians hammer was like a blow from a titan. The force of the lightning
it generated caused the beast to shudder and momentarily lose its ability
to hover as it reacted to the pain and dropped onto the bridge, simultaneously
interrupting its attack on Nightshadow.
It took only a moment for the Leviathans quarry to take advantage of
his foes vulnerability, and one of the swords cut deep into the
monsters leg as another surge of lightning--this one not nearly as
bad--struck from some other weapon.
The beast didnt even feel the arrow that bounced off it and fell over
the side of the bridge.
The Knight had now reached the battle and swung his own glowing blade into
the monsters right flank. It was the first time Boraz had ever felt
heat--for flame was his element--but this blade was like a hot poker thrust
into the flesh of a mortal man, and the Leviathan instinctively kicked out
a leg as long as a tree, sending its enemy with its accursed sword flying
backwards in a painful somersault.
Then the brass colossus rose up to full height, concentrated, and in one
horrid instant, transformed itself into a gigantic pillar of white hot flame,
a last remnant of the power the creature once had as a star in the
heavens!
It was like opening the door to a furnace hotter than any found in Naz-Al:
Everyone on the bridge but Nightshadow and Thor instinctively backed away
from the intense heat into the sanctuary of the Conjuration room. Even Giles,
one leg broken, was on his knees trying to scramble to safety, his armor
starting to glow from the heat, as Romulus wrapped his protected arm around
the Knights to help drag him back despite his exposed bodys own
painful burns.
Behind, the two main warriors battled on despite the flames. Nightshadow,
ignoring the pain, moved in and made another slash into the beasts
leg with Brigit. Thor, despite nearly being roasted, stopped and hurled the
hammer once again toward the head of the monster, only then retreating as
he ducked behind the shield and reached down to his pouch for an
elixir.
The hammer vanished into the mass of flames, but everyone heard the resounding
crash of its thunderclap and the Leviathans cry as flame became immersed
in a cage of electricity.
Then the beast was gone, simply jumping over the side of the
bridge.
The heat gone with him, Raven rushed to the side of the landing and peered
down as the Knight and Gladiator took the opportunity to drink elixirs.
Meanwhile, the others from the Conjuration room, including Doremi, cautiously
followed their leader out.
The Bard stared over the side of the landing with the rest. Far below,
penetrating the blackness of the Pit, was a pinpoint of light. Apparently,
the Leviathan had flown a couple hundred feet down, safe from the attacks
of its enemies, while it recouped its senses.
The hammer hurt him, and he ran away--thats good, right?
she nervously asked Raven.
The Mistress of Freeport was only half listening to her.
If he can be hurt, he can be killed, she muttered back, her eyes
fixed on the light far below.
Doremi now glanced up to the other end of the bridge where the last set of
doors awaited them. Raven, we could make a run for the Throne room--maybe
hell leave us alone if he sees weve gone for the
Liche!
Now Raven was paying full attention to Doremi as she whipped her head
around.
And fight Nostradamus in front of us while that thing comes up from
behind?! she exclaimed. You never leave a dangerous enemy alive
at your back, Doremi--never!
Amen, Thor grunted as he stepped up to the knot of people gathered
on the landing.
Doremi looked over the edge again. The light was still unmoving, hovering
far below.
Whats he doing? she wondered aloud.
What do you think hes doing? Raven grunted, glancing
back over the side. Hes healing himself! Fosmo--come watch, and
let us know if he starts coming back up!
Less than enthusiastically, the Cutpurse came forward to keep lookout as
Raven glanced around for the two Witches.
Cyl, Espy, she spoke, We need two things: we need some
protection from the things Hellfire, and we need to get it onto
the bridge where the fighters can hit it. Cyl--can you cast a control
fire spell and give some protection to them?
The Druid shrugged. I can, but the amount of protection I can give
to them may be negligible compared to the power of its flames,
Raven.
As she was answering, Nightshadow was hurrying up to rejoin the
group.
Hell be back soon--any ideas? he called out, knowing what
would soon befall him once again.
Raven glanced back to him. Were working on it
now.
Then she turned to the Gladiator.
Romulus--heres what well do: Youre going to get ready
with your net on the right side of the bridge. Cyl is going to turn you
invisible, and--
He may be able to see invisible creatures, Raven, advised the
Elf.
Raven sighed and hung her head in frustration. Just one time tonight,
I wish you two Witches would do what I say without giving me an argument!
she snapped without turning. He may be able to see invisible creatures,
and he may not! We have to gamble that he cant!
Cyllindrethifl clasped her hands in front of her and took in a breath. My
point was that a chameleon spell might be better, as it will allow
Romulus to blend in with the terrain. The Leviathan may not see through
that spell as easily as a spell granting invisibility, she patiently
explained.
Raven sighed again. Cyls going to cast a chameleon spell
on you, Romulus, she muttered through gritted teeth. If the Leviathan
drifts over the bridge and gives you a shot, hurl your net at his wings and
try to bring him down. Then everyone swarm on him. That means, Giles--stay
back on the landing and wait for an opportunity to charge in; dont
run out to expose yourself before hes vulnerable. Hell attack
Thor first thing, so Thor--stay forward with Nightshadow. Not next to him,
but near him so he puts his back to Romulus and the rest of
us.
Thor gave her a stern look.
We cant take him out by ourselves before he flies off! We need
you casting at it, not shooting a bow!
Slowly, Raven turned to glare up at the Viking, who stood two feet taller
than her, returning a stare just as cold.
Oh-oh, thought
Doremi, party discord. Ive seen this
before.
Thats my intention, Raven answered in a low voice that
betrayed no sign of intimidation. You just keep him off my two Witches,
and well see if our magic, added to your attacks, can bring him
down!
Far below, Boraz was hovering safe from attack while his wounds healed of
their own accord--his wounds, that is, other than those on his right leg
which still oozed ichor from where Nightshadows blade had cut deeply
into it. The gashes would remain for days--the price of being struck by someone
wearing the Mind Sapphire.
The Leviathan was furious at himself. He should have slain every one of the
intruders the moment he had laid eyes on them, and in a moments he would
correct his mistake and leave the bodies of every last one of them smoldering
on the bridge. No wonder the Liche feared these people--they were no ordinary
group of mercenaries. Who they were, and how they entered the tower without
the Liche realizing it until they were at his door, was a mystery--but one
thing was certain: this group of warriors could easily slay Nostradamus.
But they would find in Boraz an enemy beyond them. The Prince of Brass would
devastate these mortals. Then it would be over, and he would be free. He
and--
The beast paused, suddenly realizing where he was, and peered down into the
blackness below.
Brothers! he suddenly shouted, his voice thundering and
echoing down the Pit.
And far, far below, beyond the deepest bowels and the blackest darkness of
the furthest reaches of Hell--his voice was heard.
This is the day we have awaited! Today we will ascend back to where
we were and change what happened to us! This--is the day of our freedom!
This--is the day of our vengeance!
Over and over again, his voice pealed downward. And finally, in a place where
eternity and a moment were one in the same, where hope did not exist, where
there could be no respite from the torment of their imprisonment with each
other, a cacophony of ten thousand times ten thousand shrieks, hisses and
groans welled up in response from a writhing mass of beasts, horrible beyond
all imagination. The sound would have driven any mortal mad, but here, in
the depths of the Abyss, it was a shout of victory...a last shout of hope
that freedom was at hand.
Boraz sensed the hails of his fellow Leviathans, and, emboldened by his own
words, he expunged a shout and looked up to the bridge above. Then he began
rising.
This time, he would play no games.
The entire tower shuddered with the sound of the beasts cry, and Fosmo
watched as the dot of light began to streak toward him. He was bolting for
the Conjuration room even before he opened his mouth to shout, Here
he comes!
Doremi and the two Witches were hot on his heels, and Raven ran for the shadows
in the doorway, trying to hide as the Knight stood guard in the doorway itself
between those inside and any potential attack by the Leviathan.
Ahead, the others were now set: Nightshadow and Thor were most of the way
across the bridge, standing about fifteen feet apart, prepared for the
Leviathans next attack. Thirty feet behind them, a few yards in front
of Raven, Romulus lay hidden by Cyllindrethifls spell. Blending near
perfectly with the stonework, he remained motionless, ready to hurl his net.
Finally the Witches, having retreated beyond the doorway, prepared to cast
whatever they had that might help against this nearly unbeatable
foe.
Then their enemy appeared, soaring up above the bridge against the northern
wall of the tower, bringing its hands in position for another attack of
Hellfire.
At the same moment, Thor threw the hammer. Unafraid, the Leviathan brought
its huge left arm up to its face as a shield, and the hammer once again impacted
with a tremendous clap of thunder.
But he was prepared: Boraz stiffened, enduring the force of the blow and
the lightning surge that came with it. This time, the monster remained in
the air, off the side of the bridge, until the lightning ended and the hammer
began to fly back to its wielder.
Now it was Boraz turn.
Out came his hands once more--now ignoring Nightshadow to target the Scandian
with a blast of white hot fire surging out onto the bridge.
Reacting, the Viking threw up his shield, disappearing into an umbra of
flame.
Raven now concentrated, calling upon the power of the Book, and a 5th rank
spell Islay had rarely seen since the First Age began to take shape around
the head of the Leviathan as she extended and twisted her hand round in a
circle. The spell began as a translucent globe of purple energy thirty feet
wide. It was there for only a moment, then Raven brought her fingers into
a fist. The outer surface of the globe flashed brightly and the globe transformed
into a flat plane of energy that contracted inward with a muffled thud as
the beasts head took the full impact of energy, shaking the Leviathan
to its core.
The force of the blast threw the Leviathan against the wall of the tower,
disrupting its attack on Thor. But the attack had done its job: as the flames
lifted, the body of the Scandian lay quivering on the bridge as Nightshadow,
alive yet equally helpless, could do nothing but wave his blades at the
beast.
He dropped Thor in one attack, Espidreen muttered in shock. Then
she recovered and let fly an energy blast.
The ball of plasma shot out the doorway up to the beast, but--as they had
feared--it fizzled out as it struck the monster.
As the flames had swept down toward Thor, Doremi could see a small percentage
of them being held back by a spell from Cyllindrethifl, but the vast majority
swept through to engulf the warrior. Just then, Ravens
implosion went off, breaking the Leviathans
concentration.
Even so, the Scandian lay moaning on the ground, barely alive.
Thinking fast, the Bard fumbled for her scroll book. One of the spells inside
was a Necromancer spell that could heal wounded people from a safe distance.
It was a 6th rank spell, thus there was no guarantee she could read it safely,
and a failure would probably finish him off--but the Scandian was a goner
if someone didnt do something quick!
Boraz, meanwhile, was thrown against the wall by the force of the spell,
but it took only a moment for the beast to recover and fix its enraged gaze
toward the back of the bridge as one of the other Witches energy
blasts proved futile.
At the same moment, Raven looked backward toward the Conjuration room--trying
to mislead the Leviathan--and vanished, shifting across the bridge
to the safety of the dark entryway on the other side.
Deprived of a target it wanted revenge on, the colossus now swept laterally
over the bridge, trying to see if its prey had somehow retreated back into
the Conjuration room through a spell, as those left inside made for the back
of the chamber, surmising its intentions.
Boraz move was what Romulus had been waiting for. The Gladiator began
whipping his net around in circles, its enchanted strands expanding in size
until it was large enough for the task, then he let fly.
The net spun upward, becoming visible as it left the Gladiators hands,
and the Leviathan reacted almost immediately, lurching back and trying to
bring its hands up to bat it away--but the beast was a moment too late and
the net caught between its head and left wing, contracting and entangling
the wing with its horn like a net of constrictor snakes.
For a moment, Boraz was forced to land on the bridge, but as quickly as he
could grasp the net, he was ripping it apart!
As soon as the net left his hands, Romulus--now visible--reached over to
grasp the trident and took aim, leaning back to throw with his right hand.
Even as Boraz was tearing his net in two, the Gladiator let fly, and the
trident hurtled up to the beasts midriff, exploding in another burst
of electricity.
Ignoring it, the Leviathan reacted immediately, taking a huge step forward
and lashing out with its left foot at the Gladiator as it roared in
anger.
If there had been time to think, Romulus would have tried to dodge, but
instinctively he made the mistake of trying to bring his shield up to parry
away a foot the size of a barn door. The move spelt his doom, for the blow
struck home, driving the warrior, shield and all, into the side of the bridge,
breaking his spine with a horrid crunching sound.
Back in the Conjuration room, Doremi screamed, bringing her hands up to her
mouth.
Mercifully, Romulus was dead before Boraz leaned down to backhand his foe
over the side of the bridge and into the abyss below.
Now they had lost two of their Fellowship.
Giles reached the monster a moment too late to prevent its last attack on
the Gladiator, but he answered the beasts victory by swinging the blade
with all the power he had into the exposed left arm of the Leviathan, opening
up a wide gash.
Yellow ichor, more like molten metal than blood, sprayed out with the blow
as the Knight brought the sword round for another slash into the beasts
leg.
Nightshadow now joined the battle, swinging both scimitars against Boraz
legs. Brigit was no longer enflamed, and thus its damage could not
compare with his earlier attack--but still the beast shuddered with the blows
as sparks flew from its body where the blades struck.
Another implosion from Raven then wracked the Leviathans
head.
Boraz reeled with a shout and instinctively turned back toward the source
of the spell, bringing up his arms to rake the area with flame as he kicked
at Nightshadow with a foot.
Raven reacted immediately, pulling her cloak about her before she vanished
into the same aura of fire that had nearly finished off Thor.
Doremis spell, meanwhile, was slowly imbuing Thor with strength, and
in a few moments the Northman came to his senses, lifting his head to see
the fight raging only a few yards away. He didnt even think to go for
an elixir, but spying the hammer lying next to him, reached out to grasp
its handle. Then, in one fast move, he rolled to his knees, making an underhanded
throw of Mjolnir up at the Leviathan.
The hammer flew out, striking the monster in the belly and unleashing yet
another barrage of lightning, and the creatures attack on Raven was
disrupted as it backed away. But as the flames withdrew from her, they revealed
a smoldering black mass huddled on the ground in a ball.
Hes killed Raven! Espidreen screamed in horror.
Oh, I hope shes only faking it again, thought Doremi.
Boraz had endured enough this round, and with the blow from the hammer combined
with everything else, the beast backed against the side of the bridge and
again allowed itself to fall over, seeking the safety of the void.
Giles flew to the side of the bridge, helplessly looking after the beast
as it fell away to safety, his frustration evident as he shook his sword
at fleeing the monster.
Even as the Knight moved for the side of the bridge, the two Witches bolted
out of the Conjuration room, running for their mistress, certain she was
dead if not gravely wounded. But they had hardly taken three steps when the
black shape rolled up and reached for her bow, apparently still
alive.
Relieved, Doremi pulled up in mid-stride behind them and changed direction
as she reached into a pouch for an elixir to give Thor, who was being helped
to his feet by Nightshadow.
Raven was downing an elixir of her own as Cyllindrethifl and Espidreen reached
her.
Thank goodness--we thought you were dead! Espidreen
exclaimed.
Not far from it, Raven murmured back as she threw the empty vial
of her last elixir to the ground in anger. Come on.
Back she hurried to the group, Witches following, gaining speed as the strength
returned to her body.
We almost had him that time, she exclaimed.
And he almost had us, Thor spoke in response as Doremis
elixir began to show effects.
The Viking rubbed his right arm, trying to rush the feeling back into it
as the burn faded away. As it is, looks like we lost the Gladiator,
he added, nodding back.
Raven ignored the comment. Getting him on the bridge is the key,
she continued. Every time he gets on the bridge, we hurt him.
Cyl--
The Witch pulled up and came to attention.
--We need the Leviathan on the bridge again. When he comes up the side
and starts to hover, can you unleash a load of hailstones on
him?
She thought for a moment.
Yes--and he wont be able to resist them! the Elf exclaimed
excitedly. Ill follow it up with a second load on the right side
and well keep him trapped on the bridge--unless he simply dispels my
magic. He can easily do that, Raven.
Not while fifty-pound hailstones are hitting him in the head--he
cant concentrate through that! Nor will he do it while our fighters
are attacking him on the bridge. Well have him!
Whatever spells youre casting is making the difference,
Nightshadow continued. Can you keep them up?
Raven nodded. Its an expensive spell, but Ill keep up the
attacks on him. Right now, though, Im concerned about Thor. Do we have
anything that will help him against that things flames? Anything at
all?
The two Witches looked at each other and shook their heads.
Isnt there a Druid spell that enchants a cloak to help protect
you against heat? Doremi remembered, drawing upon her own years of
adventuring experience.
Raven expectantly looked up.
Cyllindrethifl shrugged. Cloak of chills. I dont have
it memorized, nor do I have the essence of a winters day to
enact it.
Raven sighed and her head dropped in frustration.
I can--although I am loathe to do it--enact that third rank spell by
casting the Song, Raven.... Cyllindrethifl continued.
Doremi knew what Cyllindrethifl referred to: the Song had to
be speaking of the most powerful of all Druid spells: the song of
Rhiannon, as the Avalonian Druids called it. The Bard had never heard
it, for it was a thing sacred to Druids, who would never use it lightly.
But shed always longed to hear it performed.
Go to it, Cyl--we need it.
He needs a cloak, Raven, Espidreen pointed out.
As quick as that, Giles threw off his pack, laid his sword down and reached
for the clasp of his own cloak.
Take mine, he spoke as he ripped the cloak off his
back.
Just as fast, Thor shucked his own pack and dropped
the rune bow next to it as he reached out to swing the Knights
cloak about his own broad shoulders. Meanwhile, the Elf cleared her throat
and concentrated. Then she opened her mouth and sang out a melody unlike
anything Doremi had ever heard: a delicate, lilting series of tones that
seemed to come alive in her mind in the same way her own voice might affect
someone. To her great disappointment, she would never recall so much as one
note of the song, but she would ever after remember its
beauty.
A film of dew appeared, spreading over the surface of the blue cloak as the
Elf sang, and in a few moments, the surface of the cloak was covered with
a sheen of glimmering ice.
Thor grunted, shrugging his shoulders so the cloak would wrap around him
as much as possible. First time in months I almost feel
comfortable.
Hell do better now, Cyllindrethifl assured the
group.
Well, lets not stop at that, Raven spoke as she reached
into her enchanted belt pouch, retrieving a ball of white wax.
Open up, the Mistress of Freeport then spoke to the
Viking.
Theres an elixir in there, she explained as she slipped
into his mouth. When the cloak starts to wear off, bite down and swallow.
Itll give you and extra boost of healing to keep you in the battle.
Between Cyls spell and the elixir, youll be good for at least
two throws of that hammer before its flames start to get to
you.
The Viking nodded. If Wotan wills it, well finish him!
he mumbled.
The two of you need to stay toward the eastern end of the bridge,
Raven warned. If he targets you there, well be out of range of
its flames and can keep casting without interruption.
Well take him this time! Nightshadow vowed.
Down below, Boraz own rage was building. Hed had enough of that
accursed hammer, and the first thing he was going to do was to kill the Scandian.
That loud-mouthed Witch was dead, but as long as that Scandian lived, he
was a threat--and it was time he became a threat no more!
His anger at a fever pitch, the Leviathan didnt even wait for all his
wounds to heal of their own accord; he simply spoke a word of Power
hed learned in the past, healing all but the wounds caused by
Nightshadows scimitars. As he felt the pain leave and strength return
to his limbs, the beast was ready to fight once more, and up it began to
move, determined to have vengeance.
Again, Boraz rose up over the side of the bridge. And, as it knew Thor would,
the Viking hurled the hammer as soon as he spied the Leviathan.
But Boraz was ready: The moment the Viking was bringing his arm around to
let fly the hammer, the beast shifted over the center of the bridge.
It was too late to stop the throw and Mjolnir struck nothing but the
basalt wall of the cavern as the Leviathan vanished even as a row of huge
hailstones appeared out of nowhere and began raining down along the left
side of the bridge where the creature had been a moment earlier.
Having avoided both attacks, Boraz now unleashed another torrent of
Hellfire upon Thor. But this time, the Viking was holding his ground,
standing behind his shield, waiting for the hammer to return for another
throw.
Now another purple globe of energy surrounded the beast and hammered it by
the force of its implosion.
The mouthy Witch still lived!
Ignore it, Boraz forced himself to think. Kill her next. Whatever
it takes, finish the Northman first!
Thor now had the hammer back and, despite the flames, reared back and took
careful aim, hurling Mjolnir at the chest of the beast. It struck
home, unleashing yet another storm of lightning into its foe, but the Leviathan
withstood the blow, determined to bring down the Viking.
Another implosion struck the Leviathan, causing the beast to nearly
fall onto the bridge, but through sheer force of will Boraz stayed aloft,
following Thors movements and keeping the flames up in hope of finishing
the Viking off once and for all.
The Witch would pay soon enough.
Raven read the strategy, realizing the Leviathan was determined to kill Thor,
and she urgently beckoned for the Witches to come out and cast. Then she
began invoking yet another implosion.
A pyrotechnic display of magic now went off about the Leviathan as the two
Witches joined in from the doorway, hurling the best spells they had, as
quickly as they could, at the beast. But nearly all of them proved futile
as the monsters innate ability to resist magic rendered them ineffective.
Only Cyllindrethifls spells, every so often, seemed to actually bring
some measure of harm to the Prince of Brass.
The flames were starting to consume the cloak of the Viking as the hammer
returned to his hand for what might be his last attack. He made it count,
shouting a Scandian curse and hurling it with all the strength he had left
into the face of the beast, then he swallowed the elixir and began to move
back.
Despite the pain from yet another blow of the hammer, Boraz realized victory
was at hand--the Viking was at last retreating and cowering behind his huge
shield. Now he would finish him and crush that hammer if it was the last
thing he ever did!
The Leviathans feet touched down upon the bridge as it landed, its
rage so great the beast didnt even feel Cyllindrethifls bolt
of lightning that overcame its spell immunity. Thor, smoking like a rack
of meat upon a spit, tried to hurl the hammer one final time, but the Leviathan
was too fast! In fury, a fist of brass came hurtling down, breaking the
Vikings shoulder and throwing him unconscious to the ground where he
lay unmoving.
Nightshadow and Giles now leapt forward before the monster could finish the
Viking off, their blades striking desperately against the giant. But the
beast sensed the battles end was at hand, and its massive fist flew
back and caught the Knight square in the face, flinging him backwards to
the ground where he lay unconscious if not dead.
Nightshadows blades were hitting the colossus one right after another,
but Boraz had determined Thor would die before anything else. Yet even as
another implosion struck him in the head as he prepared to crush the
last bit of life out of the Viking, Boraz saw an opportunity to finish off
Nightshadow: Trying to protect his comrade, the Rogue had made a swing as
hard as he could into the beasts leg with his left scimitar, but the
blow struck so violently the Rogue nearly broke his wrist and the scimitar
had flown out of his grasp.
Instantly, he jumped away, intent on retrieving the weapon and re-entering
combat, but in doing so he momentarily turned his back on the Leviathan.
Forgetting Thor, the beast took advantage of the fumble and made its final
move: Quicker than it would have seemed possible for its size, the Leviathan
raised its leg and brought it down upon its foe, pinning him, face down,
against the side of the bridge.
Nightshadow cried out, trying to awkwardly slash at the monsters foot
with Brigit, now that Dellendryll was trapped somewhere underneath him. But
now Boraz had him pinned from above and was trying to crush the life from
the fallen hero. Whats more, in the position he was in, the monster
wasnt making actual contact with the Mind Sapphire, and thus
the Talisman couldnt draw his life energy from him as it would have
had the beast been touching it with his massive foot.
Another implosion wracked his head and Boraz looked back to the landing
where the three Witches were unloading all they had left. Furious, his right
hand reached back towards them, emitting a stream of flame--but, as Raven
had planned, it reached no closer than some fifteen feet from its intended
targets.
In came another implosion, but again Boraz ignored it, determined
to finish the fight now. This could be has final victory if he could only
hold out against the Witches spells. He knew he was close to half dead--but
half dead to this monster was still beyond the most powerful demons at full
strength.
The only question was how much energy was stored in the
Mind Sapphire to protect its wearer?
Stunned for a few moments, Giles regained enough of his senses to fumble
for an elixir. His gauntlets making it impossible to remove the cap, the
Knight simply broke the vial, letting its contents drip down into his throat,
then he was struggling to his feet, moving forward again after retrieving
his sword.
Leaving his shield on the ground, Giles courageously stumbled to the back
of the monster, raising both hands upon the hilt of the sword above his right
shoulder--and then drove the blade into the heel of the beast as deeply as
he could.
The enchanted blade sank nearly two feet into the body of its target, and
instantly Giles withdrew it for another strike. But Boraz right leg
caught him again in a backwards kick, sending the Knight flying once more.
Then the monster swiveled around, sweeping its hand after its foe and sending
out a jet of flame.
Giles became immersed in fire, and when the beast ended its attack, the fallen
champion lay still and this time did not get up.
Nightshadow, meanwhile, was drawing on the full power of the
Mind Sapphire in hope of raising the colossus from off his body
as Doremi nervously watched from the landing.
Come on, Nightshadow--you can do it, she whispered.
For a moment, the Rogue seemed to. Boraz was leaning over with all his weight
as the Talisman literally hummed with power, imparting all its strength to
its bearer. As he pushed, the giants foot slowly began to be forced
up as Nightshadow sought to get to his knees. Then they paused, both locked
in a stalemate...
Until Nightshadow finally collapsed, trapped underfoot of the
giant.
Yet another implosion struck the beast, and the moment it faded away,
Boraz cried out,
Heal!
Everyone heard him, and everyone knew what it meant: a wave of power now
surged through the beast, and in moments most of its wounds were gone. When
the next implosion hit a moment later, it was like starting all over
again.
Then Boraz immolated.
Nightshadow shrieked like a soul trapped in Hell, for now he endured the
additional anguish of the searing flame with the crushing weight of the giant,
yet the Mind Sapphire healed the damage even as it came, keeping him
alive and in torment each passing moment as he lay trapped beneath the
monsters foot.
Someone come up with an idea!
Now even Raven was panicking as she began running low on spells.
Hes done it, thought Nostradamus as his consciousness viewed
the fight from overhead! That worthless Leviathan has finally done something useful! But where
did he get the ability to cast all these spells?!
Now the Liche turned its attention to trying to find some legal means of
subverting its agreement with Boraz and destroying him the moment the Talisman
was handed over.
He also wondered what was keeping Nabonidas.
As fast as she could cast, Raven was hitting the Leviathan with
implosions, but those left alive could see it was a losing battle,
and they all knew that whatever her powers were, she had to be nearly drained
of her higher-rank spells. Yet still she was casting one massive
implosion after another.
But Boraz had had put up with her long enough, and he was going to outwit
and defeat that accursed Witch once and for all! As the globe began to appear
once again, the monster concentrated, canceling its flames and invoking an
ability to reflect magic back at its caster as Raven started to make her
fist and strike him with the spells energy.
There was no time to halt it: instead of activating around the Leviathans
head, the purple sphere of energy suddenly appeared around Raven, and its
blow caught her full force, stunning its caster who dropped to the ground
like shed been sapped.
Espidreen, taking a bit less damage, was thrown down to the floor of the
Conjuration room, but Cyllindrethifl hurtled into one of the silver doors,
knocking her unconscious, and the Elf crumpled to the ground in a
heap.
Only Doremi and Fosmo, inches from the affected area, escaped the blast,
instinctively ducking as the implosion went off in front of
them.
This is it, Doremi thought, grimacing.
Now the Leviathan was unopposed and grinding its prey into the ground as
it put its full weight down upon its left leg, trying to finish off
Nightshadow.
Lets make a run for it, Fosmo urged, reaching out and grasping
Doremis shoulder. Ill get us out of here!
Doremi didnt even have time to consider the suggestion, for at that
very moment, just when things couldnt get any worse, the doors from
the temple burst open and the startled pair looked over, fearing they now
had to contend with yet a new enemy.
They were both frozen in shock for a moment, and then Doremi exclaimed,
Whore you?!
Overwhelmingly pleased with his demonstration of superiority as he watched
the three Witches taken out with their own magic, the Prince of Brass again
immolated and turned back to his entrapped foe, leaning forward, twisting
and grinding his foot into Nightshadow.
It was only a matter of time now.
The Talisman had reached its limits, and the Rogue stayed trapped as the
life was slowly crushed and burned out of him.
For what seemed an eternity of moments, the two were undisturbed in their
struggle, but then there came a gruff voice from behind.
Leviathan! it shouted from the landing. Thy moment of judgment
is at hand. Leave that dog and come fight me, for I challenge you
for the glory of my master whom you have affronted!
The giant head swung round to see what fool dared issue such a
challenge...
Then the beast roared with laughter.
Standing on the landing, before the closed doors of the Conjuration room,
was a Dwarf.
Unafraid, he was shaking an axe-hammer up at a monster that was nearly ten
times his own height. The Dwarf was stodgy and solidly built, and for his
attire he wore an ornate suit of engraved plate mail capped by a great helm
encircled by a ridge of gold much like the Leviathans own
crown.
Boraz was amused.
I will be but a few more moments, little Dwarf, the Leviathan
laughed. Be patient, and I shall entertain thy
challenge!
It took only as long as it took the Leviathan to deliver his mocking answer
for the Dwarf to hurl the axe-hammer--and it shot forward, twirling end over
end until it drove itself into the back of the beast and exploded into a
great ball of fire.
The blow was as bad or worse as that of the Northmans hammer, although
the creature didnt feel the flames of its fire. Still, Boraz howled
and shifted position, turning to face his challenger as he kept his foot
on Nightshadow.
The weapon, meanwhile, flew back to its master and a gauntleted hand reached
out to grab it.
Then the Dwarf spoke his challenge again.
Come fight, coward! Yield and do obeisance to the master whose honor
I battle for!
The monsters eyes narrowed in fury.
Who is thy master, that I may know who will eat the fruit of
my wrath after I finish with you, footstool of the Prince of Brass?! the Leviathan hissed
back.
I fight for the honor of my master and thine, who ruleth over all Devil
and Leviathankind--the Lord Asmodeus! the Dwarf announced.
It was the worst thing anyone could possibly say to a Leviathan. A roar,
terrible beyond description, now issued from the beast, shaking the entire
complex of the Upper School to its foundations as the colossus clenched its
fists in rage.
Across the courtyard, the battle, which had now grown to include the first
Humans whod managed to reach the Upper Schools courts, actually
halted at the sound of the beasts cry--which was heard even that far
from the tower! Sword and axe stopped in mid-swing while claws raking flesh
halted in mid-strike as Viking and demon, Dwarf and Hocwrathian paused in
their life-or-death struggle at the sound of the horrid bellow. The shout
then died away, leaving behind a surreal silence in its place.
The pause lasted but a moment, and then the battle resumed.
Immediately the Leviathans flames snuffed out as the creature rose
to full height and fixed a gaze of utter hatred at the Dwarf.
How dare you speak that name in my presence?! the monster
bellowed at the top of its lungs. Do you know what he did to us? Do
you know what we lost because of him?!
His wrath beyond his control, Boraz screamed once again and raised his foot,
beginning to stalk, one step at a time, towards the Dwarf, eyes burning with
rage and its former prey forgotten. Behind him Nightshadow, blessing Brigit,
rolled the opposite direction and came up, looking for the sword that had
flown from his grasp.
Then his eyes fell upon it.
You look like his champion! the colossus spat as it advanced
upon the Dwarf, who steadied himself and raised his shield while rearing
back with the axe-hammer. I will crush the life from you and throw
you down to your master. Tell him Ill be right
behind!
No, you idiot--stay on Nightshadow! screamed the voice
of the Liche.
Ignoring the voice, the Leviathan continued forward. It was almost upon the
Dwarf now, shaking the bridge with every powerful step and cursing him at
the top of his lungs.
Then, suddenly, the Dwarf shouted, Now!
Boraz halted at the word and looked up as the doors to the Conjuration room
were shoved open by the Burglar and the female in the ruffled cap. With
amusement, it saw the pathetic trap they sought to use against him, for behind
them was arrayed a force of some two dozen Dwarves, positioned for
battle.
The creature knew it had been tricked, but it had no fear of even an army
of Dwarves. Nothing short of a weapon made by a god, or a fellow Leviathan,
could penetrate its hide of brass, so Dwarves could no more bring him down
than ants could bring down an elephant.
Their pathetic ambush was amusing to the Leviathan Prince, yet for an instant
Boraz was puzzled, for the Dwarves did not advance. Instead, they stood in
four ranks, raising something at him that vaguely resembled crossbows, though
the Leviathan saw neither limb, nor string, nor quarrel, but only a round
casement of wood set upon a crossbows stock which showed a faint glow
of magic--a magic undoubtedly too weak to affect him.
The Leviathan may not have known what the devices were, but the Liche
did.
Run, you fool--those are weapons! its voice rolled through
the chamber.
Boraz nearly laughed in scorn at the Liches warning. But then the clicking
began, and over a hundred crossbow bolts rained up at him in only a
moments time. They had no chance of actually hurting a being so powerful,
but the monster naturally brought its hands up to block them.
As one might have guessed, none of the bolts penetrated. But every one that
bounced off its brass hide broke the vial of holy water encased in the tip,
showering the Leviathan, as it were, in acid as the beast let out a roar,
instinctively backing off and turning away in the moment before he would
move back and stamp the Dwarves like ants.
Then his eyes fell upon Nightshadow, and his hands dropped away from his
face.
No! Boraz screamed.
Before him, Nightshadow was laying on the bridge, his legs raised with
Thors rune bow wedged between the top of the toes of his left
foot and the underside of his right. Through the strength imparted by the
Mind Sapphire, both hands had grasped the bowstring of frost giant sinew
and pulled it back against his chest, bringing the two limbs of the bow so
close that they nearly touched each other.
The result was a shimmering bolt of energy the size of a spear that was now
pointing directly up at the Leviathan.
There was no thought of taking a true aim in such a clumsy position--it was
simply a matter of firing at a target so huge it couldnt be
missed.
Nightshadow released the string and the bow snapped forward, launching its
bolt of energy at the Leviathan like a thunderbolt.
Too late, Boraz tried to dodge but half his left shoulder was blown away
as the bolt exploded into him with a tremendous crash and a shower of
sparks.
The creature nearly spun around in a circle from the force of the blow as
Nightshadow scrambled to his feet, ready for another shot. But his form was
still not that of a normal archer: he thrust the bow as far away from his
body as he could with his long left arm and, with his right, he drew the
string back past his head as far as he could stretch.
A second blast from the bow now shot into the belly of the beast with a force
so great it exploded out through its back!
No sooner had he released the second bolt, then Nightshadow was pulling back
the string for another. It took only a moment for another deadly shot to
collide with the monsters chest as the bow which had been used in the
First Age to bring down dragons now sought to bring down a
Leviathan.
Staggering, Boraz turned away from Nightshadow--into a new volley of fire
from the Dwarves, who had been reloading.
Then an implosion wracked its head from a healed Raven.
This is our last chance! she screamed from the doorway, reaching
for a shuriken from her belt. Finish him!
Now the Dwarf hurled his axe-hammer at the monster again, striking him in
the chest as two more shots from Nightshadow blew through the beasts
waist and thigh. Then the Leviathan, reeling from the attacks, looked over
to the side of the bridge, where safety beckoned.
But it had taken too much damage.
The monster tried to stagger to the railing of the bridge, but its legs gave
out from under it and the beast fell to its knees with a massive crash that
nearly knocked everyone off their feet as the floor nearly gave way beneath
it.
Too entranced by the battle to leave the door for the safety of the Conjuration
room, Doremi could see the look in the monsters face and realized it
didnt know where it was.
They did it, she thought! Hes gonna die! Hes really
gonna die!
Like any creature in its death throes, the beast was now acting on sheer
instinct, trying to roll to its right and fall off the side of the
bridge.
But now it was Ravens parting shot.
Give my regards to Asmodeus, she muttered as she cast the shuriken
up at the monster.
The golden star streaked toward the Leviathan, but before it reached the
monster it split apart into so many flaming shurikens that Doremi couldnt
count them all. There were twenty if there were one, and shuriken after shuriken
struck the monster like energy bolts while Nightshadow fired off one
last bolt from the bow.
Boraz pivoted to his right and fell forward as his momentum carried him into
the side of the bridge, breaking through the stonework. Then the Leviathan
was gone, rolling over the side like a giant diving into a pond.
Raven bolted to the side of the landing to look down. Cyllindrethifls
hailstones spell had long expired, and the Mistress of Freeport had
an unobstructed view of the monsters descent.
It fell as it had done before, but this time limply, striking the sides of
the tower as it tumbled down into the Pit. In a moment, he was a pinpoint
of light, then the light winked out as Boraz continued falling and falling
and falling until he was never seen again.
After the third energy blast, only Nabonidas still drew breath, his
skin blistered and red, and his limbs nearly stiff from the shock his body
underwent. Despite the agony, the grizzled old warrior sought to rise to
his knees as the figure above descended, step by step, toward him.
Several shadow darts followed the enemy down, floating to the right
of his head as the man, one of the
darts in his hand for use if necessary, finally emerged from
the darkness of the stairway and his features became visible.
With satisfaction, the enemy mage, thin, yet muscular, and dressed in a familiar
robe of black silk, stood there observing the look on Nabonidas face
as his parched lips opened in utter shock of recognition while the blue eyes
stared out past the spittle-streaked beard, grayed with the age of
decades.
Nebonidas! the old warrior stuttered. But youre
dead!
Pitilessly, the gaunt figure standing there returned Nabonidas gaze.
You have that backwards, my brother, he corrected.
Simultaneously, the mages hand then snapped forward to launch the
dart as Nabonidas used his last strength to wrench a dagger from
a boot scabbard and hurl it forward.
Neither would have the satisfaction of the kill, for in that selfsame instant,
both were consumed in a maelstrom of flame and smoke.
For hours now, a portion of the lava flow had been cascading down the side
of one of the stairways and pooling far below in an isolated cellar of the
Upper School reserved for storage. No one was there to see it or stop it,
and little by little, the lava had flowed down the empty halls until it was
finally stopped by a thick oaken door.
Behind that door, they lay stacked in a pile against a wall: close to a hundred
barrels of black granules representing twenty seasons worth of toil
by Og Face-Cutter and his ogres.
Guarded by three juggernauts (huge golems only a few feet smaller
than the Leviathan) with orders to slay any living creature that entered
the chamber, the barrels had been kept here for decades with the intent of
someday using them against the Second School.
It wasnt long before the door isolating them from the hallway caught
fire and collapsed from the great heat, allowing the lava to flow forward
until it reached the lowest stack of barrels...
And then the room exploded with a force never seen before in
Islay!
A few outside the School who observed the blast say that for a moment every
window of the fortress above the Lower School lit up bright as the sun. Then
came the ear-shattering sound of the explosion as the entire western slope
of the mountainside blew out!
The blast was so powerful that a good portion of the Upper School collapsed
off its foundations and slid forward, burying alive scores of Hocwrathians
trying to make their way to the Upper School as its collapsing towers and
battlements rained down upon the eastern end of the complex below.
Worse than that, many wizards who had conjured up the demons battling the
Scandians and Dwarves were slain in the event--and now those demons were
free from their control! And so, acting as demons do, the creatures
first thought was to turn on those they had been fighting for. The moment
they felt themselves freed from their Bindings, many were flying, running
or leaping from the melee in the Upper School to slay every victim they could
reach in the Lower School. They didnt last long, of course, against
the warriors and Necromancers below who still outnumbered them, but they
fought them anyway, just to show their contempt.
Thats just the way demons are.
And if this wasnt enough for the Hocwrathians left alive to contend
with, the blast shook the mountain so badly that the entire foundation of
the Lower School shifted and would have given way but for the power of the
throne which managed to keep it intact. And so, while much of the School
was in pieces, most of it still survived because the thrones power
kept it alive.
But that power wouldnt last much longer.
Aboard the Black Widow, theyd managed to avoid most of the fighting
as the demons focused on the defenders at the stairways, leaving the Scandians
and Dwarves to take the brunt of the attacks. But the ships luck
couldnt hold out forever, and one of the demons bounding up the
mountainside discovered the vessel when it entered the Upper School through
the Aerie.
It attacked immediately, leaping up to the weather deck and landing with
a solid THUNK as it came to rest upon the timbers. The crew may have been
used to sea monsters, but this was nothing like theyd encountered before:
The demon was a good head and shoulders above the tallest of them, and it
stood there hunched over like some huge praying mantis, its bulbous eyes
assessing its enemies for a moment as its elongated head swiveled about on
a spindly, muscular neck.
The Mate was first to react, raising his crossbow to fire, but a razor-sharp
claw sent him pitching to the deck, practically tearing an arm off in the
process, while a second crewman was nearly eviscerated by the creatures
next blow.
Nazier didnt risk the crossbow and dropped it to the deck as he drew
his two cutlasses and charged straight at the beast, his blades moving in
a blur, slashing at the monster and driving it back toward the
transom.
Hissing in rage, the demon was only there for a moment before it regained
the initiative and moved forward in reply, relying on its thick, scaly carapace
to withstand the blows. Two claws kissed only air as the master of the Black
Widow parried them away, but then the demon lashed out with a claw, catching
one of the blades in mid-swing and actually wrenching the cutlass from his
grasp!
Two other crewmen had reached the aft deck by now and were rushing to their
Captains aid, but a scaly backhand sent one over the side of the ship
as the second went down to a claw that nearly took his head off.
Then the demon was back on Nazier again.
Though down to one sword, Nazier ground his teeth together and pressed the
attack, drawing the blade across the exposed chest of the monster as he jerked
and twisted, dancing on the deck while dodging its attacks. The blade failed
to draw blood, and in response another claw raked across its enemys
left shoulder, throwing Nazier to the deck by the force of the
blow.
Drooling in fiendish delight as its prey went down, the beast leapt in for
the kill as Nazier began kicking his legs in its face while swinging his
remaining cutlass, trying to keep the monster from getting close enough to
finish the job.
They wrestled like this for several moments until Nazier managed to pin the
demon against the helm with the bottom of his boots--yet no sooner had he
done that then the beast was shredding both unprotected legs with its dagger-like
claws. It was only the sound of his own scream that kept the old mariner
from passing out from the pain as he instinctively thrust the cutlass back
at the beast, and missed.
Then he felt the crossbow lying next to him on the deck.
In what he knew would be a do-or-die move, Nazier released his grip on the
cutlass, allowing the demon to wrench it free from his grasp as his right
hand reached for the crossbow and swung it into firing position.
The crossbow started clicking over and over again, all eight shots going
off in the demons face as it turned back to its prey, the beast not
even having time to cry out as it vanished in a puff of green
mist.
It was indeed a night of miracles!
Back at the Conjuration room, a cheer of elation arose as the Leviathan fell
to his death. Then the Dwarves were rushing onto the causeway, triumphant,
to catch a glimpse of their foe as the Witches, along with two Dwarven priests,
rushed to attend the wounded.
Raven, along with the Bard, was peering over the landing, watching as the
glow of the beast faded from sight until it finally vanished completely.
Only then did she relax.
How far down do you think Hell is? Doremi asked her over the
whistle of the wind blowing through the cavern.
However far it is, Raven answered, its too close
for me.
The Mistress of Freeport then turned away from the Pit and locked eyes with
the Bard. And by the way--good job! she added.
The Dwarf leading them had worked the plan to draw the beast off Nightshadow
in only moments after Doremi had explained what was going on. They hadnt
hoped for much more that that, but Thors bow in Nightshadows
hands had made the difference: The Leviathan was dead, and now the way forward
was clear to finish the quest.
Ravens eyes now sought for the Dwarven leader. I dont know
why you came up here, but thank the gods you did! she exclaimed as
she turned away from Doremi to him.
Almost surprised, he looked up to her. We got the map you sent us,
and we thought you wanted us! he explained. Since nothing was
happening on the stairs, I led some of my Guard up here.
No--we were just sending that in case we did need you...and
it turns out we did! Thank the gods you came! Raven repeated. Hey,
your crossbows, though--those arent the ones I gave you! Whered
you get those?
At that question, the warrior looked a bit embarrassed.
Please dont take offense, he replied politely, but
the ones you gave us werent very well made--they kept jamming. So we
made some with better springs that were a bit more
reliable.
Doremi stifled a laugh at those words as Raven scowled slightly, then the
Mistress of Freeport wrapped her arm about the Bards shoulder and thrust
her forward. Oh, and if you havent met formally, she spoke,
--Dorrik, this is Doremi Bender, a Bard from Avalon whose help has
been invaluable to us. Doremi, this is Dorrik, King of all
Dwarves.
The Bard curtsied. We met for an instant only! she replied. An
honor to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty!
And thats Fosmo Figgins, chief Burglar of Torrence, the
Mistress of Freeport added as an afterthought.
Hey there, Mate! the Cutpurse nodded with a toothy
grin.
Just watch your sceptre around him, Espidreen mumbled, overhearing
as she helped a recovering Giles back to the landing.
The Dwarf nodded politely to Fosmo. So our enemy still lives, then?
he asked, pleased at the thought, as he turned back to Raven.
For a few more moments, Dorrik. Looks like youll have a chance,
after all, to--
That was as far as she got, for at that very moment came the sound of a
tremendous explosion and then a horrid rumbling as the entire tower gave
a shudder, this one far worse than the earlier one. As everyone was forced
to reach for railings or drop to their all fours to steady themselves, the
ground gyrated for several terrifying moments.
Then it was over as the tower, swaying like a pendulum, seemed to settle
down.
But Dorrik and the Dwarves were still agitated.
Were out of plum three degrees! the King of Dwarves announced,
facing the Conjuration room as he let go of a railing hed been holding
onto. Were pitching downward toward the west! What was
that?!
Throckmortons finally attacking! Raven exclaimed with delight.
It must be that!
Things are coming to a head now, Espidreen spoke up, stepping
away from the railing.
Exactly as I planned it! the Mistress of Freeport beamed. Then
her eyes sought for Cyllindrethifl, who was returning with a healed
Thor.
Cyl, pen, paper, and message box!
The Elf simply lifted the belt pouch off of her belt and handed it to Raven,
who dropped to her knees as she rummaged around in search of what she needed.
Scrawling fast messages, she shoved them into the
message box and they vanished off to their recipients.
Dorrik, Raven spoke as she penned another letter, send
your men back to the Music Library on the third level of this place. Im
telling Nazier to pick us up there.
You dont want them with us against the Liche? he
asked.
The Mistress of Freeport shook her head. If you want to keep a couple
to replace the men we lost, thats fine, she responded.
Otherwise, theyve done their part--better for them to clear the
way back out if anythings coming up to stop us.
When the blast hit, Nostradamus was nearly catapulted to the floor. Bound
as he was to the School by his Artifacts of Power, he felt the death
throes of his own forces even as he realized his plans were unraveling by
the moment. It was now only a matter of time, and if he, himself, did not
stop these people--and stop them now--his end would be assured.
Trying to sense the fate of Nabonidas, Nostradamus perceived even he was
dead along with scores of others.
Now the Liche was truly all alone.
A few hours ago, he thought to himself as he righted himself upon
the throne, my School was the most formidable force in Islay. Now--the
Witch has slain my Conclave with a
word of Power few have
uttered since the First age...they have felled my Leviathan...half my School
is in ruins...an army approaches from the sea--and all my forces have been
able to slay are a few miserable Dwarves and Barbarians!
I underestimated you, Witch. I expected Nightshadow, but not that Barbarian,
let alone the King of Dwarves and his personal Guards! So be it. I should
have dealt with you directly from the start; I have erred in wasting my minions
against you. Even so, no one defeats N'Str'D'Ms in his own Tower! Now I will
show you the difference between a clever pirate who learns to cast spells
only because she finds some item that permits her to learn, and a true wizard
who has seen
twenty
times the number of seasons she has!
Confidently, Nostradamus removed a black crystal shard from a pocket of his
robe and peered down at it.
The essence of Midnight to protect me against the
word of Power
youll cast when you see me.
He crushed the shard in his skeletal hand and intoned a spell.
Next, he removed a second shard of crystal.
The essence of Time itself to protect me--and to aid in your
destruction.
He crushed it and invoked another spell.
And, of course, these. So simple, they will be your final undoing. You
will over-analyze and miss the simple answer while you search for the
difficult.
Carefully, he tied the sack of scrolls Sonja had left for him to a sash about
his waist, the lowest part of him that was still solid.
And, finally, you.
The Liche reached over and picked up a two-handed mace, running his hand
along its smooth iron shaft until the shaft formed itself into a golden claw
holding a huge black diamond cut into the shape of a spiked mace
head.
You served Serpen well--now serve me.
Watch and learn, Witch, was his final thought as he prepared for
battle.
Raven finished and folded her last letter, stuffing it into the box and handing
both up to Cyllindrethifl, who waited for instructions.
Draconerius, Raven ordered as she regained her feet.
Cyllindrethifl was startled. Raven, I dont know
Draconerius!
Now it was Ravens turn to look surprised.
Youve lived here for a year! You never ran into Draconerius?
Never even seen him from a distance?
Cyllindrethifl shook her head. Our paths never
crossed.
Ravens head fell in frustration. She couldnt believe
it.
Doremi now spoke up. I met him once, but its not like were
friends or anything.
Raven pulled the box from Cyllindrethifl, shoved it into Doremis gut,
and the Bard reached out and grasped the box.
Concentrate on Draconerius, Raven told her.
Doremi complied, closing her eyes and concentrating.
A puff of smoke rose from the box and she knew the letter was
gone.
Raven retrieved the box, placed a letter to Morgaine in it, and concentrated.
After the letter vanished, she stuffed the box back into Cyllindrethifls
pouch and returned it to the Elfs possession.
Espy, Raven now called out, give that elixir of
rejuvenation to Cyl. Once were done here, your part will be over
for the night, but Ill need Cyl at full strength.
It seemed to Doremi that Ravens words almost brought as much relief
to Espidreens face as it did puzzlement to Cyllindrethifls. But
the Druid accepted this as in keeping with the way things worked around Raven,
and she gestured up ahead to the two great doors nestled in the alcove eastward
as she imbibed the elixir.
Raven--his throne room should be beyond those doors, she spoke
after downing it. Its the same layout as Throckmortons
School. Weve done it! Unless he has a dragon with him, nothing could
be more powerful than the creature we just slew. Its down to him and
us now!
You don't think he could have a dragon, do you? Espidreen
muttered nervously.
There are no more dragons in Islay, Nightshadow answered her
with confidence.
Trust us on that, Dorrik added.
Okay, Raven spoke, everyone make sure theyre healed
up, and activate whatever protective spells or devices they have left.
Dont hold back--when you see him, give him the best youve got,
because hes giving you the best he has left! If we hit him hard
and fast, we may all survive. If not, depending on what he does, he may drop
some of us before he goes down. He cant leave that room, though, so
hes got nowhere to run. He has to make his last stand
there!
Cyllindrethifl pulled a crystal from her pouch and began casting, causing
the bridge around them to light up brightly as a globe of sunlight surrounded
her. She continued casting, invoking two other protective spells.
Raven--do you have any more words of Power left? Espidreen
asked as she began invoking a ward of protection, that guaranteed shed resist at least
two or three of any spells the Liche cast at her.
Ive got two seventh ranks left, Raven answered. And
hes getting a word of Power off them the moment I see his rotting
face. Ill hold back my last seventh unless we need it. How about you?
How you doing?
Ive got a sixth rank left Im going to use to activate a
fifth rank star gems spell since I dont think of my sixths will
affect him, she replied, now tossing a handful of gems into the
air.
Dazzling rubies, garnets, pearls, diamonds and other gemstones now began
whirling around her head. Each would now provide a variety of enchanted
protections against the Liche's coming attacks.
The fighters were clearly edgy and anxious to be moving. Dorriks two
remaining Guardsmen had slung their crossbows to re-arm with swords, ready
for one-on-one battle. Giles, now healed from the flames, hefted his
Holy Sword in two hands, slinging his shield for now, ready for
this last fight. The three titans now reunited, Nightshadow, Thor and Dorrik
huddled together a few feet onto the bridge, encouraging each other, certain
that final victory was now at hand.
Keep in mind, you must lure him off his throne, Cyllindrethifl
announced to everyone. If he stays on his throne, he can cast spells
all day without using up any of his own power.
Well just charge the throne then, Giles spoke. My
Sword be ready to skewer yonder Liche!
Cyllindrethifl now summoned a greater will O the wisp, following
it up with her own ward of protection, and then she was
ready.
Raven herself now invoked a ward of protection and when she had done
that, she spoke again.
Okay, were going to bust the doors and Ill hit him with
a word of Power--assuming hes visible. If hes not,
the fighters need to charge in and draw his fire. The second I see him,
Ill set it off. If were lucky, itll finish him just as
it did the Conclave. If not and he still lives--the fighters rush him, and
the Witches hit him with whatever they have. If theres anything else
in the room with him thats significant, I want Dorriks two guards
to go for it or them; if not, they can do what they think best.
Nightshadow--you, Thor, Giles and Dorrik take Nostradamus unless
circumstances warrant backing up the Dwarves or doing something else. But
Giles and Nightshadow, no matter what--go for the Liche if you see him.
Espidreen, cover the Dwarves if they engage anything. Cyl, you and I will
concentrate on the fight with Nostradamus. Doremi--just stay back and out
of trouble. Fosmo--stay back to cover Cyl and Espy. Do not leave them. Everyone
clear?
The Fellowship nodded amongst each other.
Raven, Cyllindrethifl said, patting a pocket of her blouse, if
we dont see anything, Ill scan the area with the ball of crystal
we got off that Liche in the Gallery. If hes invisible, I should be
able to see him.
Oh, but I
want you to see me, thought Nostradamus as he listened
in on every word they said. In fact....
He concentrated, and the darkness of the room fled as a spell lit up the
entire chamber.
Enough planning--lets finish this! Thor shouted with a
scowl.
Anxious to fight, the Viking turned and began hurrying across the bridge,
Nightshadow at his side and the others falling in behind. Before them now
stood two massive doors at least thirty feet tall fashioned of solid gold
inlaid with various symbols of Necromancy and Sorcery. Both men put their
shoulders into the doors at once and they swung open with surprising ease
to reveal the final chamber inside.
The Throne room was a cavernous vaulted room of basalt a hundred feet long
and almost fifty feet tall. Hundreds of people could have fit within it,
but only a lone figure met their eyes as the doors exposed what lay behind
them: At the other end of the room stood a single massive piece of onyx carved
into a dais and throne covered with glowing runes of power. Seated in a recess
of the throne, but still clearly visible in the brightly lit room, sat the
Liche, its burning red eyes staring back at them past its iron crown of coiled
cobras which mounted a glowing sapphire much like Nightshadows own
Talisman.
No longer fully solid, a skeletal face and upper body clothed in a formless
black robe passed from bone to spirit below the monsters
waist.
Here then, was Nostradamus, 137th Master of the First School of Sorcery.
And it took but a moment of time for everyone to realize that, despite their
confidence, they were now face-to-face with the most powerful being Islay
had known since the First Age--a being all now sensed would not fall as easily
as its minions had.
Our little Bard has returned to us, the Liche spoke almost wistfully
to Doremi, looking past the bodies between he and her. And she brought
some friends--how nice! All night long I have awaited you, and now comes
the end of our little game.
You got that right--Brigit! Raven shouted.
The room exploded with a globe of energy as bright as the noon sun, and Ethereal
wind roared through the chamber like a hurricane, blinding the Fellowship
as the Liche vanished into a maelstrom of energy.
As before, wave after wave of sunlight pulsed through the chamber, and as
the light finally began to subside, everyone could see once again--and see
that, unlike his Conclave, the Liche was unharmed!
No, it whispered, the acoustics of the chamber bringing its voice
all the way to the other end of the chamber where the startled heroes now
paused to decide what to do next. Your pathetic Witch spells have no
effect on me. In fact, you can no more harm me than you can stop me from
leaving this chamber whenever I wish.
The Liche caught the look of surprise on the faces of its enemies at hearing
its words, and half a smile seemed to pass upon the monsters
features.
Oh, yes, Nostradamus continued, I can indeed leave this
chamber. I have merely fostered the myth that I cannot. So why then, am I
here? Why did I not simply leave you an empty room as I fled to safety? Because
it is here that my powers are at their greatest. It is here--not outside--that
I cannot be harmed. Best fall to your knees and beg mercy. That, or learn
there are fates worse than death. Come--I await you.
Having finished his challenge, the Liche leaned back and waited.
Fearlessly, Sir Giles stepped inside the chamber, first to challenge
Nostradamus.
How doth it feel to know thou art about to die, Liche?! he shouted,
pointing his Holy Sword at the monster before him.
The Liche again sat upright and twisted its head toward the
Knight.
You tell me, Torrencian, it whispered back. Then, with a swiftness
no one expected from a skeleton, the Liche threw two daggers, enacting a
pair of seventh-rank spells. As did Ravens shuriken, both daggers as
they left his hand burst into flame and spread apart into many others, shrieking
toward the old Knight.
Forty dagger-shaped bolts of energy slammed into their victim who flew back
into the wall near the door, collapsing to the ground, where he lay
still.
Thor looked down at the body of the Knight, then let out a Scandian war cry
as he hurled the hammer and charged forward, followed by the other warriors
and the greater will O the wisp which Cyllindrethifl had mentally
ordered to attack.
Instantly, the Liche held up a hand, and Mjolnir reversed its course
in mid-flight, hurling itself back into its own master with a clap of thunder,
driving Thor to the ground by the force of its strike and the power of its
lightning!
Laughing, the monster then fixed its gaze on Raven, who was casting a
witchfire spell.
Did you think you were the only one who could cast spells from the
First Age? it asked calmly. But, as a Witch, you can only cast
one spell at a time while I, as a Sorcerer, can cast two. Like
this....
Two more daggers flew out from the Liche and split into dozens more to impact
against the chest of Nightshadow, stopping him in his tracks and nearly blowing
him backwards by the force of their impact, but the Rogues Talisman
instantly healed him, and he did nothing more but bend over for a moment
in pain before rising up and continuing his charge.
We need him off the throne, Cyllindrethifl muttered to
Raven.
The Liche seemed to hear, and gave a shrug. If it will please you,
the monster spoke in response.
Nostradamus now rose and began floating down the dais toward the floor, a
huge black mace in his left hand. Nightshadow, despite the spell hed
just been hit with, was nearly to him now, and he took a final step forward,
swinging his right scimitar against the head of the monster as his left cut
through its waist.
But as a harbinger of what was to come, both blades passed harmlessly through
Nostradamus as if he were some sort of illusion!
In the next moment, the will O the wisp transformed itself into
a bolt of lightning and struck in turn, but if he felt it, Nostradamus gave
no sign, simply vanishing from their sight.
The witchfire launched forward in a stream of red plasma from
Ravens gloved right hand--but now Nostradamus was gone. Harmlessly,
the plasma passed through the spot where the Liche had stood, striking nothing
as Nightshadow backed away, taking a quick look back to Thor who, though
nearly slain by his own hammer, was feebly trying to get to his
knees.
Doremi had entered the chamber as the rest of the group came in, searching
for the Liche. Spotting the body of Giles, she knelt down and placed her
hands beneath the shoulders of the fallen champion, hoping to drag him back
out into the alcove.
Dorrik and his two Dwarves halted at the center of the room, looking for
their enemy and scanning the many alcoves and recesses in the chamber expecting
a sudden attack from the safety of their darkness, but there was no sign
of their quarry.
Raven, wakizashi drawn, had entered the chamber and was looking up, anticipating
an attack from above as Cyllindrethifl urgently peered through the crystal
ball, trying to find Nostradamus in case he was invisible.
But then the Liche casually floated out from behind the throne followed by
two disembodied hands holding the massive black mace.
The skeletal head turned toward Nightshadow and a bony finger pointed to
him.
In response, the hands, with their mace, obediently sped toward
him.
In thirty years of battle, the Rogue had never encountered anything like
this, and his advance toward the Liche was halted as he now sought to parry
the phantom attacker as it unleashed a blistering attack on him.
Brigit! Cyllindrethifl now shouted, using her own word
of Power now that Nostradamus was off the throne.
Once again, the room exploded into sunlight as an Ethereal hurricane roared
through the chamber. Moments passed as the eastern end of the room vanished,
but--as before--the Liche was untouched when he returned to their
view!
Aroused by the presumption of the attack, the living skeleton directed its
hate-filled gaze back to the Elf.
Impotent, pathetic Witch, he slowly muttered in contempt. Now
witness the triumph of human Sorcery over Elven Witchery!
A ball of plasma then appeared in the Liches hand as it raised its
right arm.
The three Dwarves now rushed to engage the monster in combat, trying to disrupt
the spell it was casting. Two swords and Dorriks axe-hammer whipped
through Nostradamus, followed by an ineffective energy bolt from
Espidreen. Behind them, meanwhile, Thor was shaking his head to clear the
grogginess as he downed an elixir. He then reached for the hammer that lay
next to him. Weakened but still alive, the huge Viking then forced his himself
to his feet and stumbled forward.
The elixir quickly did its work, and with each step the Viking gained strength
until he was reinvigorated, his rage still at fever pitch.
The Knight, meanwhile, encased as he was in plate armour, was heavy, but
Doremi was able to drag him out to safety. Though he was unconscious, fortunately
he still breathed. But as the Bard set him against the side of the landing,
an explosion went off behind her, its concussion driving her to the
ground.
Energy
blast--a big
one, she realized.
Inside the room, Raven and the two Witches, injured but alive because of
their protective magic, were trading spells with the Liche, who kept moving
and casting as Thor and the three Dwarves flailed away at him.
Whatever the warriors tried had no effect on the monster, for their attacks
proved useless as sword and axe seemed to pass through it with no more effect
than the best spells the Witches could muster. Even Raven, certain Nostradamus
could not possibly resist the magic from the Book, found her own powers
ineffective against him. The one positive aspect of the battle was that the
Liche was reduced to casting only one spell at a time as it maintained
concentration on the mace pounding Nightshadow.
Projected image of some sort? Is he invisible? Espidreen called
out to Cyllindrethifl in frustration.
The Elf intently peered through the crystal ball at the Liche, and then quickly
scanned the chamber.
No, its him! she shouted back.
Grabbing her flute, meanwhile, Doremi hurried back to the doorway and stepped
in to the right of the entry, mentally going over her list of songs in hope
one of them might help.
This is probably a waste of time, but Im going to try and lay him
to rest, she thought. Then, bringing the flute to her lips, she began
playing a powerful Bardic spell-song.
Unbelievably, Nightshadow was screaming for help as the mace struck him
repeatedly as easily as if it was being wielded by a master warrior. Each
time the huge studded head struck his leather armor, the Mind Sapphire
flashed brightly, apparently healing an enormous amount of damage.
The masked warrior was attempting to parry, but--as was happening with the
Liche--his weapons passed harmlessly through the mace while it could still
hit him solidly.
Answering his call, Thor turned away and leapt back, swinging the hammer
at the mace with no better results than the three Dwarves who remained on
Nostradamus.
Then the sound of Doremis flute arose in the room, and the power of
its lilting melody momentarily seemed to affect the Liche. Nostradamus actually
gave a shudder, a vacant look momentarily passing across his face.
But he managed to recover, and in fury the burning red eyes fixed themselves
on the Bard.
Oh-oh, Doremi
thought.
A skeletal hand arched backwards and then snapped forward, launching a shadowy
black dart at her. The song now a memory, Doremi tried to duck, but the dart
struck her shoulder and exploded, painfully numbing it and causing her to
momentarily lose control over her right arm.
Satisfied, Nostradamus shifted back to the throne, sat down and crushed
a crystal of some sort. He then emitted an evil-sounding sibbilation directed
at the mace.
Hes speaking Karnaki Doremi suddenly realized in shock as she
rubbed her arm! O Isis, who sees the past and future, open now the
gate. Its that same spell again!
She continued listening.
Okay, now hes changed in the middle of the spell to
Sorcerer-Tongue.
Dorrik and the two Dwarves rushed forward to re-engage the Liche as Raven,
meanwhile, came to the center of the chamber trying to analyze the situation,
apparently stymied.
Nostradamus was off the throne and moving again--this time, literally passing
through the group of Dwarves like a spirit, heading straight for Raven who
readied herself, raising her wakizashi to make a massive downward swing at
the Liche in final hope her blade would do the job. But then it paused and
removed a scroll from a bag at its side. Apparently, unafraid of its attackers,
the Liche calmly read the scroll off as the Dwarves again struck
nothing.
Ineffective magic and
elemental ice darts from Espidreen and Cyllindrethifl shot through
Nostradamus as Raven shifted the wakizashi to her left hand and with her
right pulled a black pearl from her pouch.
She took aim, throwing it straight at the Liche, but the
ether ball flew harmlessly through the monster, dispelling in
a soundless explosion as it struck a wall beyond it.
No, Witch, Nostradamus spoke as he looked straight at her.
Your spells and arms cannot hurt me. I move back and forth, outside
your normal time. I exist simultaneously in the present and the future!
I can strike you, but you cant strike me before I move out of your
time once again. Fools! You cant even see where I am--you can only
see where Ive been!
The Liche now issued a hissing, sarcastic laughter, then it began moving
again.
Raven thought for a moment, closed her eyes and cast forward a shuriken.
Twenty-five shuriken-shaped bolts of energy spread out in all directions,
seeking targets, striking the walls of the chamber apparently failing to
connect as the Mistress of Freeport opened her eyes, trying to follow most
of them to see if there was any effect.
One struck the floor by Doremi, but her attention was drawn more to Nostradamus
who had ignored Raven and was moving toward she and the other two women.
The trio eagerly rushed north, past the doorway, allowing the Liche position
itself in the southwest corner of the chamber, followed by the Dwarves. For
a moment, it winced--precisely, Doremi realized, where the shuriken bolt
had struck the floor.
Raven, she exclaimed, I think hes moving about a
quarter-minute in the future compared to us! Hes using that Karnaki
spell we found to do it!
Cyl, Raven shouted,
--seven-twenty-five!
Whatever code that was, Cyllindrethifl understood and withdrew a small hourglass
from a pocket of her cloak, as she began casting a spell.
Yes, thought
the Liche, recognizing it. You have done exactly as I intended.
Farewell!
Doremi saw the hourglass and realized Cyllindrethifl was going to cast a
time distortion spell, one of the most powerful of all seventh-rank
spells known to Witches. They were planning to either slow Nostradamus down
or else speed themselves up to his level of movement through time.
It wont work--hes still moving
twice as fast through time as that spell will slow him down,
she thought.
Then her eyes suddenly widened as she realized the risk of hitting the Liche
with that spell.
No, Cyl! Doremi screamed.
But it was too late--the Elf finished, and the spell was going to take
effect.
Without pause, the Bard dove back through the doorway to the safety of the
landing as, where the Liche stood, a portal of swirling light in the shape
of a cone appeared and the roar of Ethereal wind filled the
chamber.
Tricked by Nostradamus, Ravens order had caused a time vortex
to open up as two time-affecting spells collided. But instead of killing
Nostradamus as shed gambled, the Liche merely stood there, racing ahead
of the vortex in time, allowing the party to endure its
effects!
One of the Dwarves was immediately sucked through the portal, his screams
fading away as he vanished to only the gods knew where in space and
time.
Feeling it start to draw her in, Raven dropped to the ground but was
too close, and she began sliding back toward the vortex while desperately
trying to crawl the opposite direction on the slippery floor.
Dorrik--right next to the vortex--let go his shield and caught hold
of a column in one of the alcoves lining the walls, pulling himself away
by his own great strength. The last remaining Dwarf from his Guard had dropped
both sword and shield and was hanging on for dear life to a column, only
feet from the vortex.
Cyllindrethifl and Espidreen were further away, inching toward the opposite
side of the chamber when Nostradamus, clearly able to withstand the
vortex and still act, hurled an energy bolt into
Cyllindrethifls leg. The hit caused the Elf to lose her footing, and
with nothing to grab onto, she was sucked backwards through the
vortex, her screams echoing until they finally faded into
nothingness.
Now the third member of the Fellowship had fallen.
Fosmo managed to reach out and pull Espidreen with him, and both fell to
the ground, safe for the moment.
Thankfully, the vortex vanished after only a few seconds as the Liche
again shifted to its throne and sat down.
Removing yet another crystal from a fold of his robe, Nostradamus cast the
same half-Karnaki/half-Hocwrathian spell at the mace which was still battling
Nightshadow. Then his bony hand reached into the sack at his side to retrieve
another scroll.
At the other end of the room, those left alive were beginning to recover.
Raven quickly rolled to one knee, casting a greater disenchantment
spell at the mace.
But there was no effect.
Impossible,
she thought! That spell was cast at twenty-fifth-circle; it has to break
twentieth-circle magic--it
has to!
Screaming a Dwarven battle cry, Dorrik charged toward the throne as his comrade
pulled a hand axe from his belt and hurried behind. On hands and knees,
meanwhile, Doremi crawled back into the room and struggled to her feet, feeling
absolutely impotent.
And now to end this, Nostradamus thought to himself.
Casting away the used scroll, the Liche threw a dagger, and twenty dagger-shaped
bolts of energy struck Nightshadow, throwing him into the southern
wall.
The Mind Sapphire healed him and he recovered to again swing his scimitars
at the mace. But now the glow of the Sapphire was noticeably dimmer
than it had been at any time since theyd entered the School.
I can feel it hit me before I can see it hit me!
Nightshadow shouted in pain.
It must be moving too fast through time for us to parry it! Thor
exclaimed back as he made yet another useless swing.
Suddenly, several images of Nostradamus appeared on the throne as if he were
somehow out of phase, and they merged into one as the Liche was actually
stunned for a moment.
His time spells ended! Raven screamed, rising and sprinting
forward. Hit him! Dont let him get another off!
It looked to Doremi like the tide of battle might finally turn, for the Dwarves
had mounted the throne by now and began swinging wildly at the
Liche.
Yet still their weapons struck nothing solid!
The evil, leering face of the Lord of Hocwrath then turned to the King of
Dwarves and emitted a stream of laughter as the axe-hammer passed harmlessly
through it. Then Nostradamus casually floated down the throne and toward
the melee with Nightshadow, completely unconcerned with the two Dwarves
attacks.
Espidreens sunburst now hit the Liche dead center in the chest--but
the monster showed no harm as it continued on toward Nightshadow.
Thor turned and made a massive swing directed at the Liches head and
the iron crown it wore, but again the Vikings mighty hammer passed
harmlessly through. Raven, meanwhile, had now reached the battle and began
her own series of slashes with the wakizashi. She didnt know about
anyone elses weapons, but hers had to affect him--not even a
gods weapon could hold much higher of an enchantment than the ones
shed fashioned herself through the power of the Book!
Yet the wakizashi sliced through empty air, doing absolutely no harm to the
Liche.
Espy, why cant we hit him?! Raven screamed out in
frustration.
I dont know! the Witch shouted back from across the room.
Its not the time spell; its something else! He might
be under some other seventh or eighth rank spell from the First Age we never
heard of!
Come up with something, you two! Raven answered back as she continued
swinging.
Now all the main fighters were on the Liche: Nightshadow, abandoning attacking
the mace, Thor, Dorrik, his Guardsman, and Raven were all attacking it with
everything they had. The Liche was being bludgeoned, hacked and slashed by
hammers, axes, scimitars, and wakizashis--but nothing could touch
him!
Espidreen--nearly out of spells--hurled a disenchantment at the Liche,
again with no effect.
Still unconcerned, Nostradamus halted and began hitting Nightshadow with
energy bolts, ignoring his many attackers. The Necromancer-Sorcerer
had a nearly unlimited supply of power for 1st rank spells, and he was now
launching them at Nightshadow whose Mind Sapphire healed the damage
from each one.
The frustration on her face evident, Espidreen ceased casting, realizing
it was futile.
Why is he wasting spells on Nightshadow? she whispered to Doremi.
Magic doesnt affect him; he must know that.
Doremi had realized that as well, and it made no sense to her either. Then
with nothing else to do, she, Espidreen and Fosmo began inching toward the
melee at the opposite end of the room, trying to think of some strategy they
hadnt tried.
Nostradamus now interrupted his attacks on Nightshadow to retrieve another
scroll from his sack. This reinvigorated the group, which pressed their attacks,
but still nothing seemed to harm the monster.
Dorriks Guardsman, frustrated at his inability to strike the Liche,
interposed between the mace and Nightshadow, trying to grab the handle of
the weapon. Irritated, Nostradamus reacted and willed the hands wielding
the mace to attack the Dwarf.
The mace swept downward and the Guardsman gave a cry as his flesh instantly
withered, shrunk and turned to dust, dropping his now-empty plate armour
to the ground.
Raven jumped back in shock.
That things enchanted with a transmute creature to dust
spell! One hit, and youre dead!
Worry not, Witch, the Liche spoke. This weapon is only
for him; the rest of you die by other means.
Comforting thought, Raven said to herself.
Then Espidreen suddenly realized something.
That mace looks like the one on Serpen's statue outside! It could be
his mace! gods--that means it's an Artifact of Power,
Raven!
The mace now returned to attacking Nightshadow, striking the leather-armored
Rogue in the back again and again with ease, and Nostradamus launched another
energy bolt at him from the front.
Still healing the damage, the Mind Sapphire was finally beginning
to darken.
Suddenly it all made sense to Doremi: Nostradamus spells couldnt
get past the Mind Sapphire--but it drained the Talisman each
time it neutralized them!
Now she understood what was happening.
Raven, she shouted, he tricked you! Nostradamus
wanted you to attack him! He knew youd bring Nightshadow--his
plan all along was to get Nightshadow here so he could kill him and take
the Mind Sapphire! Hes trying to drain the
Sapphire--thats why weve been fighting things without
life energy for it to absorb, and why everything has been attacking
him! You did exactly what the Liche wanted, and brought it right to
him!
True or not, the knowledge was useless at this point.
Change strategy! Raven screamed in panic. Try anything!
Try silver...try non-magic weapons...try cursed weapons--try anything! Nothing
is working! What spell is this?!
Yes Bard, the Liche calmly acknowledged. All that you say
is true: I manipulated this simpleton Witch into bringing my Mind
Sapphire within reach. And why not? It and the crown are a matched set.
But, lest you think too much of yourself--know that I manipulated you
most of all!
Satisfied that the mace would be enough to finish Nightshadow, and unconcerned
with the attacks being made upon him, Nostradamus turned toward Doremi whose
eyes had widened in surprise.
Yes-you were the gullible little pawn I used to lure these all
here. Why do you think the Schools permitted you to visit their Libraries
after I let you leave? Do you think it was because they needed either the
paltry sums you offered them for the privilege, or your services? I let every
Schoolmaster in Hocwrath know I would consider it a personal affront if they
refused to let you do research at their Schools if you called on them. I
wanted your skills to mature, and I have enabled you to become the
most learned scholar on ancient Karnak in Islay--far beyond me. I confess
we at the School never thought those picture-writings would ever be useful
to us, and we lost the knowledge of them. I even had to bargain with my Leviathan
to translate one simple sentence for me.
Nostradamus now paused and read off yet another scroll.
You may wonder why I took such an interest in you, the Liche
continued after finishing. Quite simple: I knew the Witch would need
one such as you once she set her mind to come fetch what I allowed her to
realize I possessed. Since you were the worlds only female scholar
on Karnak, whom else would this predictable Witch--whose vanity would never
allow her to grow old without a fight--seek after? I knew that when she contacted
you, she would soon come here and Nightshadow would be with her. And how
did I know she contacted you? A little bird told me.
The Liche grinned.
You were too simple to notice it--my little raven who followed you
everywhere. She followed you through Hocwrath, Sarvia, Avalon--and finally
to Freeport, and she told me everything you did. Then I knew the time was
close, and I prepared.
Nostradamus now turned back to Raven as his smile turned to a look of utter
hatred.
I have been outwitting and defeating better than you for
eight centuries! Did you think the most powerful wizard since
the Triad could be tricked and defeated by a flying pirate ship manned by
an outcast band of Elves, Barbarians, and this dog of a Dwarf? Did you really
have the unmitigated gall to think--even with an army--you could come to
my Tower, take me by surprise, and gain for yourself immortality, and through
that, the rulership of all Islay with me helpless to stop you?! Pathetic
little Pirate--I tricked you into coming here and giving me
what you sought for yourself! You never should have sought to play chess
with one such as me, Witch! Now all Islay shall fall because you came here
and gifted it to me in your own foolishness.
Abandoning use of the wakizashi, Raven was now chopping and kicking the Liche
in case its immunity was actually to metal.
She spit through him.
Id have come long before now if youd let me know you murdered
my father--you didnt need this game!
Witch, I have no idea whose whelp you even are, Nostradamus answered.
But if I did kill your father, a pity I didnt kill him years
earlier to spare the world the birth of you!
His name was Shibato. He died with Nightshadows
uncle!
The Liche thought for a moment.
Ah! The little bald fellow--yes, I slew him. Or rather Boraz did, useless
Leviathan that he proved to be. Your father was such a worthless dog I never
even took the time to learn his name.
Youll remember that name in Hell, Liche!
I think not.
The Lord of the First School turned back to Nightshadow and fired off yet
another energy bolt.
If he drains the Mind Sapphire, Ill die and hell
be able to remove it from me! Nightshadow shouted as he desperately
tried running toward the center of the chamber, trying to buy
time.
Liche and mace followed as Doremi assessed the situation, concluding this
was all hopeless.
Raven--we cant beat him! We have to make a run for it--if he
gets Nightshadows Mind Sapphire, it will keep him alive forever
and nothing will be able to stop him! Hell be able to leave
the School!
The Liche turned his head toward Doremi and the two giant doors of the Throne
room slammed shut.
None of you is going anywhere, it hissed. And just so you
know, Witch, it taunted Raven, as soon as I get my Mind
Sapphire and can leave this accursed tower, you will live to see what
I do to your island and every living soul on it--even if I have to bring
you back from the dead in order to do it! Then Im going to find the
best torturer on Jewel and give him his weight in gold for every day he can
keep you alive! As for you, Bard, it vowed to Doremi, when Im
done with you, Im going to trade you to some demon as a concubine in
return for a service! The rest of you die to re-energize the Mind
Sapphire once I take it from this thieving Elf. Your life energy should
be just enough for me to reach and kill your mercenaries at the other end
of the School.
The monster turned away, removed another scroll from its sack, and started
reading.
Doremi, Raven cried out, try a Bardic
disenchantment--maybe music can affect him!
That sounded like an idea! In fact, she would go one better and try for a
greater disenchantment, which would be based on her own level of skill
instead of trying to overcome the Liches.
Her arm sore but functional again, Doremi dropped the flute and went for
Faire-chlaidh-ceols strings, strumming a chord that nearly blew
everyones eardrums--but again, the Liche was unharmed.
Then the Bard had an idea.
The
Holy
Sword,
she thought! Giles Holy Sword! The Liche attacked him first, and no ones
tried using it!
She looked around to where Giles had originally fallen. The silver-bladed
sword, fortunately, hadnt been sucked into the time vortex and
still lay on the floor where the Knight had dropped it.
Doremi hurried over and picked it up. Then, rushing back toward the melee,
she approached Raven from behind.
The huge sword, she could see, began glowing as she approached the
Liche.
Raven--heres Giles Holy Sword--try using
it!
Raven dodged to the side. Get that thing away from me! she said
sharply.
Doremi sighed and turned back to Fosmo. Fosmo! she
called.
The Cutpurse froze. Uh--Im a rapier and dagger man, sorry,
he mumbled.
Oh, you bunch of evil--
That was as far as she got before the sword was snatched from her hand by
Thor, who spun back toward the melee. The sword was now white hot, and Raven
gave him plenty of space as the Viking whipped the blade down on the Liche,
trying to split him in two.
As had everything else, it passed harmlessly though the monster.
With a Scandian curse, the Viking threw down the sword in disgust and shifted
his hammer back into his right hand to continue attacking.
Yet as the sword fell, Nostradamus quickly floated to the side of Nightshadow,
and Doremi caught the movement.
I think he's afraid of the sword, she thought. But why? Thor just
hit him with it, and it did nothing, yet he moved away from it when he threw
it down. That means something--but what?
Raven, Espidreen shouted, hes been using scrolls
to do it! They must be scrolls of some eighth rank spell survived from the
First Age that he cant cast but can read off!
It sure seems like it, Doremi thought. But he cant have
that many scrolls from the First Age. That sack hes
got is bulging with them!
Everyone could see the Mind Sapphire was now only dimly lit--and
Nightshadow was almost out of time.
The Liche now shifted back to its throne
and once again began to cast the frustrating time spell on the mace.
Only Dorrik and Thor followed, for Raven figured hed be back in a second.
And, just as she presumed, after casting the spel,l Nostradamus floated through
the two warriors back toward Nightshadow.
I dont know what spell hes under, Dorrik grunted
as he followed the Liche, swinging in futility, but whoever invented
it should be gutted!
No spell should be this powerful--theres no way to hurt him,
Doremi exclaimed to
herself.
Then, out of nowhere, to her mind came Cyllindrethifls words from when
they had examined Nostradamus non-functioning time machine: The
task of moving a machine and rider through time is so staggering that
in determining to solve that problem, the Liche has failed to see the obvious
simple alternative--have the machine remain while only the rider travels
through time.
Was it possible, she wondered, that there was actually a simple way to thwart
him that they were missing because they were determined to use weapons and
spells? But what could it be?
Every spell had some sort of flaw--but this one had none, except, perhaps,
a short running time.
Wait a minute, the Bard then thought. If it
is that powerful, why did he wait so long to use it? Why throw
all his minions at us if all he had to do was just attack us with it? There
must be something about this spell...something were missing...something
hes afraid well figure out. There
is a simple answer--there
has to be! But what is
it?! One of Ravens shurikens hit the floor and the Liche reacted when
he got to that point in the room. He moved away from the
Holy Sword when Thor dropped
it. That must mean something,
too--but what? Maybe that's the Achilles' heel of the spell--if you hit his
heel he takes damage. But he hasn't got a heel--he's a spirit below the waist.
Is the floor somehow enchanted? The clues are there, but what do they
mean?
Gloating, the Liche reached for another scroll, sensing victory was only
moments away.
Those scrolls, Doremi realized. Theyre our last chance to
try and figure out whats happening. Ive got to listen and see
if I can learn anything.
As a Bard, Doremis ears were trained to dissect and analyze sound,
and she closed her eyes, blocking out the curses, grunts and sound of the
melee as she focused upon the Liche as it began to read.
Its not Sorcerer-Tongue
or Karnaki, she realized. That language
is....
She continued listening.
It sounds
Sarvian! A Sarvian wizard must have invented it. But
why use scrolls? Why not just cast it? At his circle of power, it would last
forever!
The Mind Sapphire had now grown dark and Nightshadow was weakening.
Still the mace kept striking, driving the Rogue back into the wall. He was
now too weak to even dodge--and then the mace seemed to take aim and smack
him right in the face!
Nightshadow now collapsed to the floor, helpless and near death as the mace,
unopposed, began to strike him again and again as he lay helpless, draining
the last bit of energy from the Talisman.
Ive done it! the Liche hissed with glee. The thief
has fallen! After eight centuries, its mine! Your doom is at hand,
Throckmorton!
Then the monster paused and looked into the air as its lips uttered the supreme
blasphemy.
As Lord of the First School, I now renounce the Pact! the Liche
shouted out. I renounce your power. I renounce your anointing. I renounce
your protection. Most of all, I renounce you, Yourself! I am now the
god this world will bend its knee to!
On the verge of delirium, the Liche filled the chamber with his evil laughter
as it leaned over toward Nightshadow, waiting the last few moments for the
mace to finish its victim.
Fosmos face fell. Its over, he said to Doremi.
Were dead.
Back at the battle, Thor realized the same thing and now he took a step back.
Keeping his eyes on Nightshadow lying helpless on the floor, the Scandian
brought the hammer up, tightly grasping its shaft with both huge
hands.
Then, straining, he started to bend it.
Raven realized what he was going to do: the moment the
Mind Sapphire was drained of energy, he was going to snap the
hammer in hope the Talisman would be destroyed by the accompanying
explosion!
That they would die too was obvious. It was only a question whether
the Liche would somehow perish in the explosion with them.
The end of her life in sight, the Mistress of Freeport called on all the
energy she had left, doubling her attacks on the Liche, hoping for one last
miracle. Failing that, the moment Nightshadow ceased moving, she was going
to try and shift out of the chamber into the Conjuration room as Thor
snapped the hammer.
With luck, she might survive--if the hammer didnt take the entire
level out!
The humble Bard, meanwhile, was deep in thought.
There arent many Sarvian wizards, she was thinking. In fact,
Ive never heard of one. Plenty of Gypsies, but no Wiz--wait! Gypsies!
We were attacked by Gypsies! And that Bujo woman Sonja was with them! That
could be a Gypsy clan tongue, not Sarvian! And he cant cast Gypsy
spells--but he
could read a Gypsy scroll!
Doremis hopes collapsed again.
But no Gypsy spell is
that powerful. They only have fifth rank spells. Half
their spells are songs I can play. But maybe hes altered it. Maybe
hes using a Gypsy spell in combination with some Sorcerer
spell.
The Bards head was beginning to swim in confusion.
No--too complicated...look for the simple
answer.
Doremi thought for a moment.
The only simple answer is that hes casting a Gypsy spell. That means
it may not be what it seems to be. It could be some kind of trick we're mistaking
for something real--and thats what he could be afraid of! But I've
never heard of anything like this. Even if its a trick, what kind of
Gypsy spell makes you immune to
everything?!
At times like this, Doremi was glad she was blessed with a memory that allowed
her to recall almost everything shed ever been told, read, or seen,
for it was at that moment that something from a night long ago suddenly flashed
across her mind: It was the incident in which shed finally escaped
from the Gypsies clutches when the Cossacks had attacked their caravan
one night.
Wait a minute! I remember when one of the Cossacks came at Sonja. She started to
run when the Gypsies all scattered and I thought his sword cut her head off--but
then she caught up to me again and she was alive. The Cossack's sword didn't
hurt her any more than ours are hurting the Liche! Maybe thats the
answer. I remember she said something weird. What was it?
The voice of the dead Gypsy seemed to echo in her mind.
It was an old Gypsy trick--I merely hid in shadows and he could not
see me.
No no--it wasnt that. It was something else. It wasnt he
could not
see me...it was he could not
find me....
Sonjas words kept running through her head, rearranging themselves
like someone trying to put a puzzle together in the right order.
It was an old Gypsy trick....
...He could not find me...
...I hid...
...In the shadows?
...Inside of shadows?
...Inside of my shadow!
Then she remembered.
It was an old Gypsy trick--I hid inside of my shadow and he
could not find me.
The Bards eyes flew open.
A
shadow shift
spell!
You exchange places with your shadow! Your body becomes your shadow
and your shadow becomes your body so you can escape from your enemies without
being hurt! You cant use melee weapons--but you can cast spells and
use scrolls! Thats why the shuriken hit the floor! Thats
it!
I know what hes doing! Doremi suddenly screamed at the
top of her lungs. Hit his shadow! Hit his shadow!
What happened next was surreal: The entire melee ceased for a moment, and
all eyes turned to Doremi.
In the instant of time it took the Liche himself to look back at her, a dozen
different scenarios about how to continue the fight and win ran through its
mind.
But all of them ended up with the same unacceptable result, and Nostradamus,
eyes burning in rage, was still first to react.
Re--
Raven, with nothing to lose, simultaneously slashed at the Liches shadow
on the floor with her wakizashi.
--Ah!--turn.
The spell failed as the Liche took her slash!
The Mistress of Freeport nearly dropped the wakizashi in shock, then recovered
and cried out, Shes right--hit his shadow! as she made
another downward slash.
Return! Nostradamus tried once more.
Again, the spell failed as the wakizashi and now an axe-hammer struck his
shadow.
Hes trying to use a word of Power to escape, screamed
Espidreen. Hit him as fast as you can--dont let him get the spell
off!
The Witch then began casting energy bolts as fast as she could at
the shadow of the Liche upon the floor. Even Fosmo now leapt into the fray,
trying to find room to jab the shadow with his rapier as Thor--a hairs
breadth away from snapping the hammer before Doremis cry--bent over
and brought Mjolnir down onto the Liches shadow with all his
strength.
The plan had been brilliant, and the chess game played with unparalleled
skill to maneuver his opponents into doing precisely what he wanted. But
the Liche, having sacrificed nearly every piece on the board, had staked
all on this one last Gambit--and now that Gambit had failed. There were now
no options left, no strategy that could save him. Hammers, wakizashis and
rapiers now battered the monster, and the Lord of Hocwrath was now helpless
as the hunter became the hunted, its quarry unleashing the fury of a pack
of ravening wolves against their lone enemy.
Nostradamus was now incapable of even minimal continued concentration on
the hands wielding the mace, and it dropped to the floor, the Liches
plans collapsing with it--for Nightshadow, barely alive, shakily rolled to
his side, tentatively reached out to grab one of his scimitars, and began
to struggle to his feet.
Suddenly there was a flash of light from the Liches right
hand.
Return! Nostradamus attempted again.
Again the spell failed.
Return!
Another failure.
Return! the Liche desperately cried.
There was another flash of light from the Liches hand.
Whats that flash?! Dorrik shouted as he kept bringing the
axe-hammer down upon the enemys shadow.
I think hes got a ring of nine lives, Doremi shouted
back. Its protecting him from dying but it wont last long--no
more than nine times!
Three times more, the Liche attempted to use a Word of Power, but
it was simply impossible for him to focus long enough to activate the spell
since he was being hit every second by
something, and the ring flashed with each attempt as a storm
of weapons came down upon the defenseless creature.
Finally there was a bright flash of light from the Liches hand as the
ring vanished.
Its gone--weve got him! Thor shouted.
Return! the Liche tried once again.
Now a flash appeared in its left hand as the spell failed once
again!
Curse the swine--hes got another ring! Fosmo swore as he
thrust the rapier into the heart of the shadow.
Nightshadow by now had regained his feet and joined the battle, the Liche
now taking the blows from his scimitar in addition to the other attacks
it endured each tormenting moment.
Desperate for any avenue of escape, Nostradamus began trying to move eastward
as the group followed, showing no quarter as a rain of steel continuing falling
upon the monster.
Doremi stepped forward.
Hes trying to reach the throne! Dont let
him!
At her cry, Thor stepped away from the battle, reared back, and with a grunt
launched his hammer at the onyx throne. Trailing lightning, it collided near
the top with a tremendous clap of thunder and huge blue bolts of electricity
spread out in tendrils from the top to the bottom of the great black throne,
immersing it in electric flame. Half the throne exploded as large chunks
broke away, but more importantly the glowing sigils upon it flickered and
went out as the hammer wheeled about and came flying back toward its
master.
The effect was instantaneous: the entire tower--in fact, the entire School--now
gave a mighty shudder as the magic that had kept it intact for ten thousand
years gave way.
But everyone remained on their feet, smiting the enemy.
With the power of his throne now broken, Nostradamus halted and, having ceased
casting, twisted and covered up, trying vainly to protect himself. Hissing
and screaming, the Liche could do nothing but withstand blow after blow with
no hope of deliverance, knowing all that lay between it and the welcome of
Asmodeus for a traitor were the last few charges of its remaining
ring.
The scene reminded Doremi of an encounter a group of hers once had with a
vampire in Avalon. Having trapped the monster in the tower of an old keep,
four of her party held it at bay with crosses as the monster was forced to
await its demise at dawn, only minutes away. The vampire had also hissed
and writhed like a caged animal in its last desperate moments of life, helpless
to escape the heroes who had cornered it. Nostradamus, likewise trapped,
awaited his own dawn, not minutes, but mere seconds away now. Again and again,
his last remaining ring flashed as the attackers kept striking the monster
with all the vigor remaining in them.
Raven, Espidreen shouted, nearly jumping with excitement,
hes out of spells! We have him! We have him!
A few feet away, Doremi was holding up nine fingers.
No, hes not, she thought. He has one left. And I betcha I
know what hes gonna try to do--if he doesnt get killed
first.
She grasped for faire-chlaidh-ceol and carefully positioned her fingers
on its strings. Then, forcing herself to ignore the visible body of the Liche,
she focused only on the floor where the weapons were raining down on the
monster.
I have to time this perfectly, she thought. It will only take him
a second to cast it, and if I miss, hell escape. One breath after it
happens, I play. No--one-half breath after it happens!
Strings, if there was ever a time you didn't need to break, this is
it!
The ring now flashed its final time and vanished from the Liches
finger.
Thats it--hes finished! Raven shouted, flipping her
wakizashi into position for a final strike. Die,
Liche!
With that, she plunged the weapon into the floor.
At the same moment, sparks and shards of stone flew up from the floor of
the Throne room while the weapons of the Fellowship struck stone as the
Liches Gypsy spell ended simultaneously with the ivory rings
destruction.
Confused, the attackers halted for a moment, which was all Nostradamus
needed.
The Liche now bolted upright, the twists of fate having given it one last
chance to survive.
Doremi took half a breath and plucked the strings of the mandolin as hard
as she could, running her left index finger along the
A strings as fast as possible, cutting herself in the process
as she sent out a series of sound waves from the instrument.
Return! Nostradamus shouted with all the strength he had
left, intending to reach one of the Libraries and hide until his forces reached
the tower.
The Liches voice echoed through the chamber and his attackers remained
frozen, realizing hed gotten the spell off and escape was
his!
Instantly, the familiar aura of light appeared atop his head and began spreading
down his body in the second before hed vanish.
Break it! Break it! Break it, Doremi was thinking!
Doremis fifth rank spell-song paled in comparison to the power of the
Liches seventh rank word of Power. But dissonance was
a song specifically invented to counter the musical attacks of other Bards,
and thus it disrupted the power of sound. Yet it also had the side-effect
of neutralizing spells with only vocal components--and this was the
very foundation of the word of Power.
As the echoes of Nostradamus voice faded away in the chamber, the aura
from the spell hovered about the monsters waist for a moment, then
retreated back up until it disappeared--and in its last moments of life,
the Liche realized the spell had somehow failed and a look of utter bewilderment
spread across its features.
But I got the spell off, they heard him mutter.
Psssst!
Mouth still open in shock, Nostradamus turned to look at Doremi, who was
waving to get his attention.
And that was from a Bard! she called out.
Trapped and helpless, the Liches head now pivoted about, seeing nothing
but the hate-filled eyes of its enemies who surrounded the monster staring
back, their weapons ready for the final blows.
Mercy! it begged. Mercy!
This, Raven said, slowly, is for my father, you
filthy...putrid...Liche.
With that, she thrust the wakizashi through the center of the monsters
back and through its black heart, skewering the monster.
And this is for my brothers! shouted Dorrik, who swung his axe-hammer
into the belly of the monster.
And for my uncle, grunted Nightshadow, who found the strength
to slash the creature.
And for my brother! roared Thor, who had retrieved the hammer
and now swung it with all the strength he had at the Liches
head.
Nostradamus head exploded into powder and the iron crown was crushed
by the force of the blow, pulverizing the large sapphire set into
it.
With a final scream, what was left of the Liche turned to dust and simply
fell to the ground.
In the selfsame moment, they all sensed the change: it was almost as if a
darkness of sorts had vanished with him, for the entire chamber seemed just
a little bit brighter.
Thus, with Thors strike, the battle was done and the heroes stood there
for a moment in silence. Then Espidreen began jumping and clapping in
delight.
I knew we could do it! I knew we could do it! she squealed with
delight.
Panting heavily for the first time that night, Raven squinted, slowly turning
toward the Witch to give her a positively withering stare.
Espidreen, she then spoke coldly, get a sack out and gather
up whats left of him. Were going to take him to Freeport, dig
a hole in the doorway of the Inn, drop him in, and glass it over. Everyone
who walks inside will walk on his grave.
Excellent idea, Raven! Espidreen exclaimed as she eagerly came
forward and dropped to her knees, pulling out a sack from her
pack.
Raven then looked about. Wheres Cyl? she asked.
Giles! Doremi suddenly remembered. Then she was running for the
doors.
Wheres Cyl?! Raven asked again, suddenly
concerned.
Espidreen looked up as she scraped the Liches remains into the sack.
Raven, shes dead, the Witch spoke.
What do you mean, shes dead?!
She was sucked into the time vortex. Didnt you
see?
What?!
Raven hadnt seen it happen, and at those words the Mistress of Freeport
angrily hurled her sword at the nearest wall.
That means we lost both her and the message box! Howd
that happen?! she demanded, turning back to Espidreen.
Then her eyes sought out Fosmo. You were supposed to protect the
Witches! Raven barked at him.
The Cutpurse threw up a hand. Whoa--me was savin Espidreen at
the time!
Its true, Raven, the Witch confirmed, regaining her feet.
He dragged me to safety. There was no way for him to save Cyllindrethifl
as well. Nostradamus bolted her, and she was sucked
in.
Raven suddenly grew solemn. Is there any way she could survive?
she asked quietly, through gritted teeth.
I dont know, Raven. If she did survive, the only way she could
return would be by opening a greater teleportal. And even if she did
that, shed experience a time warp. She could return--hours, months...even
years from now. We certainly cant wait for her.
Reluctantly the Mistress of Freeport resigned herself to the truth: the Elf
was lost.
Well...if anyone could survive, it would be her, she mused. Go
attend to Giles, Espy--see if hes still alive.
Raven then looked to Nightshadow, whose strength seemed to be
returning.
You all right? she asked.
The mask nodded. That was very close, Raven. But Ill be all right.
I, uh, really need to get this thing charged back up, though, he added,
patting the Mind Sapphire.
I--think we can take care of that soon enough, she
answered.
Fosmo, meanwhile, was eyeing the Liches fallen mace, and he started
to reach down for it.
I wouldnt, Fosmo! he then heard Raven say as if she had
eyes in the back of her head.
The Cutpurse froze, his hand a few inches from the maces handle.
Eh? he asked, looking back to her.
One touch of that thing will turn you to dust.
Not if me grabs it by the handle.
How do you plan to carry the thing, Fosmo? The tip of its head killed
Dorriks Dwarf just by touching the outside of his armor. The first
time that head brushes against your leg....
Raven left the comment hanging.
How bout if me wraps the head up nice and safe in a bag,
eh?
Since it worked through the Dwarfs armor, what makes you think
a sack would insulate you from its affects, Fosmo?! Take it if you
want, but youre a fool to risk it.
Can we destroy it? Thor asked.
Doubtful--its an Artifact of Power. We could throw it
down the Pit.
Salivating at the thought of its value, the Burglar stood there a moment,
pondering. Then he put his plans on hold until they could scope out the treasure
room.
Me still wants dibs on it, eh--just in case! he
exclaimed.
Raven dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand as she went to retrieve
her blade.
The other two women were now returning with a healed Giles, and Raven quickly
moved over to him. Nearly getting killed is becoming a bad habit of
yours, Giles! she exclaimed.
But it was obvious she was glad the Knight was still alive.
Priscilla spared me to fight another day, Giles answered. Then
he looked about.
Where be our Elf?
I suppose with Dellendryll, came Ravens solemn answer as
she turned away.
The Mistress of Freeport then spoke up. All right, people--no time
to relax! Lets loot the treasure vault and get out of here! The Second
School must be laying waste to this place while I speak.
At her words, Fosmo eagerly started to race east, past the crumbled throne,
as the others began to follow.
Here! they heard him shout in delight. And sure enough. behind
the throne was a large aperture where a wide stairway led down a into the
final chamber.
Hold up! Hold up! Raven was saying as she rushed up from behind.
I want you to check for traps like youve never checked before!
she ordered. Every square inch, Fosmo!
This the Cutpurse quickly did, taking the lead and tapping the steps with
his rapier while keeping a wary eye out for any tripwires or deadfalls.
Apparently, Nostradamus figured nothing would be capable of getting past
him, so there was no need of trapping the way down. But the Fellowship still
waited at the head of the stairs until the Cutpurse was certain the path
was absolutely safe. He then called for them, and they followed after to
emerge in the Liches treasure room!
When they actually saw what was in it, everyone was a bit surprised. There
was gold, all right, but not great piles of it as theyd imagined: there
were only two small chests worth, along with three chests of silver.
They were all too heavy to lift, yes--but the amount of gold still seemed
way out of proportion to what they had presumed a School of Sorcery that
had existed for ten thousand years would possess in its main treasure vault.
Truth be known, a small wooden chest nearby that held jewelry along with
several big handfuls of red, yellow, blue and black diamonds was probably
worth more than the other five combined.
Despite the paucity of the gold and jewels, what did meet their expectations--and
may have exceeded them--were the magic items! On wooden shelves, in crates,
or stacked upon the floor were hosts of items.
Delicate Elven blades and finery, mighty Dwarven axes and hammers, ancient
Hocwrathian swords in ivory scabbards, slender wands of ivory and gold, gnarled
staves, sigil-embossed robes, jewel-encrusted spell books, gem-studded enchanted
rings, rune-covered amulets glowing with power--there were enough items to
make even a seasoned Burglar like Fosmo drool!
Not much gold, is there? Nightshadow observed as he looked
about.
I suppose running a School of Sorcery takes more money than we
thought, Raven concluded as her eyes scanned about. Plus, it
looks like they wasted most of what they had on the doors to the Throne
room.
The Rogue reached down to examine a gold-handled gladius whose engraved silver
blade glistened in the light from their lockets.
But I will say this, he continued, --Ive seen a lot
of treasure piles before, but nothing even close to this
one!
On this, they all agreed.
A golden flute lying atop a pile of assorted goods just seemed to be calling
out to Doremi, and the Bard quickly tucked it in her belt.
Okay, people, Raven spoke up, lets get it done.
Fosmo--
Aye! grinned the Cutpurse.
--Check this room, top to bottom, for secret panels. When you find
one, itll have the trap from Hell, so be careful! Giles, gather
up those jewels--theyll be worth the most; forget the gold and silver.
Everyone else, pick some choice items for yourselves, and a few things for
our other people. Hurry now! We need to clear out! Oh, and one last thing:
If anyone spots a golden ring inscribed with the hieroglyphs weve been
seeing in this place, sing out--I want it! Itll be a few inches
wide.
The group scattered and fell to looting with appropriate zeal, stuffing articles
of interest into their sacks. Even Doremi, saddened at the loss of three
of the Fellowship, managed to forget her grief and pick up a few things,
for it must be said that there are few feelings to compare with the excitement
of spoiling a treasure vault! Imagine the joy of finding a pot of gold in
a field, then multiply that many times, and one may begin to understand the
exhilaration of the act. The Liche had secreted so much here that no one
had to give thought to wondering who got first pick of what. There simply
were so many items that if you wanted something that someone else grabbed
first--another, just as good if not better, could quickly be found to replace
it.
Espidreen eagerly dropped an ivory box filled with enchanted rings into her
pack as Fosmo--interrupting his search for secret panels--took the time to
slip on a fancy set of silver bracers which, despite his delight at finding
them, didnt elicit half so much the shout of excitement that came from
him as when he discovered a master key hanging from a nail on the
wall.
So much for his ever having to pick a lock again!
Lady, Giles suddenly spoke as he held up a chessboard and its
pieces that were housed in a pouch, Methinks here be an enchanted chess
board.
What?! Raven exclaimed, looking over. Grab it for
me!
Aye, Lady! replied the Knight as he thrust them into his
pack.
Thor now cried out as he pulled forth a long, rune-encrusted Viking blade
from a pile of swords.
My brothers sword! he exclaimed in triumph as he held it
up.
Raven looked over, then her eyes widened as her gaze left the Scandian to
look down next to him. Then she rushed to the same pile to retrieve a dented,
black Yamatan helmet from the pile of armor it nestled in.
My sisters helmet! she hissed, holding it up.
Thats how he knew!
And my Uncles sword--and Stevns ax! Nightshadow
exclaimed, waving Dorrik over.
The Mistress of Freeport held the helmet before her, letting the memories
flood her mind. Then she carefully laid it down and turned her back to
it.
Secret compartment! Fosmo announced, prying a piece of masonry
loose from the wall, revealing a dark hole behind it. That done, he reached
over for a handy lance--which was probably some highly enchanted Torrencian
treasure Giles would have killed for--stepped back, and thrust it into the
aperture.
Instantly, a razor-sharp blade sliced down, severing the silver head of the
lance as a pentagram appeared upon the floor where a thief would have normally
stood to reach into the hole.
In a split-second, the pentagram transformed itself into a roaring pillar
of flame, turning half the lance into a pile of ash. Then the trap was spent
and Fosmo cast the ruined weapon aside as he leapt forward to search the
hole.
Out came a dagger with a blade dark as midnight in a scabbard of black dragon
skin, and secondly a blue leather-bound book with a silver spiral upon its
cove. Finally, he removed an amber box filled with Karnaki scarabs and
jewelry!
Thats all, the Cutpurse announced.
Espidreen snatched the book from his grasp as he delivered the box of Karnaki
jewelry to Doremi and started to choose a floor pile for
exploration.
Check the secret compartment for a secret compartment, Raven
now ordered.
Fosmo thought for a moment--then turned back to the compartment, tapping
with his dagger.
Yer right! he announced a moment later. Then, after a quick check
for a trap, the Cutpurse pried loose a piece of stone within the compartment,
reached in as far as he could, and withdrew a sack.
Raven quickly moved up to see what lay within as the Cutpurse pulled out
a golden ring about ten inches across and two inches wide that was scribed
with hieroglyphs and what seemed like part of a map inscribed upon
it.
Thats it! the Mistress of Freeport announced in triumph,
snatching it away.
Doremi, of course, wanted a closer look despite her excitement over the jewelry,
and she craned her head over Ravens shoulder to examine the object.
Raven, however, quickly tied the ring onto her belt with a thong and let
her cloak fall over it, hiding the item from the Bards
sight.
But Doremi had seen enough.
What do you plan on doing with that? the Bard
whispered.
Raven pretended not to hear by stepping toward Espidreen.
Whats that book there, Espy?
The Witch, nearly shaking in excitement as she leafed through the tome, paused
at the question and didnt speak for a moment.
Her eyes betrayed her: she was debating whether or not to lie to her
mistress.
Fortunately she avoided that mistake and reluctantly admitted,
Book of Destinies, Raven.
It was no wonder she hesitated, afraid that such a treasure would be taken
from her, for to those who do not know, the Book of Destinies is the
most powerful of all enchanted items known to Witches!
No one knows its true origin. Some say Brigit herself crafted it. Others
think it traces itself to She-Who-is-not-Named, as Cyllindrethifl called
her. Whatever its origin, this incredible item actually has the power to
change history!
When the Book is found, the first Witch who opens it up finds that
it is a journal of her life, up to the point she discovers it. In some wondrous
way, the journal continuously updates itself as her life progresses, but
its greatest power is that the owner may rewrite the text in such a way as
to alter a baneful event in her past!
This only works for recent events, and it supposedly can only be done a time
or two before the Book vanishes. Where it goes from there, no one
knows.
Now Espidreen was the Books proud owner.
Ravens mouth opened in shock. Could it bring back Cyl?
she whispered.
Well...maybe, Raven. But--
Rewrite it so Cyl survives the fight! the Mistress of Freeport
ordered.
No--we cant!
Ravens eyes narrowed in disgust.
I dont believe you, Espy! she spat. If
youd been the one to die in that fight, Cyl would be the first
to suggest we use that to bring you back! And here you
are--
You dont understand! the Witch snapped back, waving the
book in her mistress face. We need to be very careful how we
use this! We dont dare alter the fight to save Cyllindrethifl. The
fight with Nostradamus has to run its course without change. Even a slight change in
the fight might have caused the Bard not to figure out how to stop him. We
could bring Cyllindrethifl back and Nostradamus could win the fight! We
dont dare risk altering it, Raven!
Ravens hands went to her hips. Fine--so write the thing in such
a way that we win the fight and she still survives!
We cant risk that either, Espidreen insisted. The
more you ask of a Wish, the greater the chance it will be fulfilled in a
perverted manner. That, or it could fail altogether. What we need to do is
get home to Freeport, put our heads together and think of the best way to
use this book, not just use it in a convenient, haphazard manner. Besides,
Espidreen concluded, lowering her voice, we arent out of here
yet. Who can say whether we might need to use this for something even more
important before the night is over?
The Mistress of Freeport immediately accepted the Witchs logic with
a nod. Youre right. My apologies, Espy. Keep it safe
until--
She never finished the sentence, for at that moment the tower again seemed
to shudder with a terrific moan as the entire complex trembled as if a great
earthquake had hit the region.
The Fellowship halted in the midst of their looting, reaching out to brace
themselves against whatever was handy, for they were nearly thrown off their
feet as the tower began to sway precipitously as cracks appeared in the walls
about them dust rained down from the roof.
Whats happening?! Doremi screamed as she leaned
against a wall for support, fearing that the roof might collapse upon
them.
To those in the tower, the earlier blast from the exploding powder was but
a noise, a rumble and a shudder. Across the courtyard, however, the explosion
was horrifying and its force so terrible that many of the Dwarves and Vikings
were badly injured from it, and a few even died. Yet out of tragedy came
blessing, for the battle in the Upper School largely ended at that point
as many of the demons turned their wrath upon the Lower School and
Nostradamus forces still alive down there. What few Hocwrathians remained
behind to fight quickly fell to the swords and axes of the defenders, and
thus the battle had ended long before the Liche had even died.
Then Ravens letters started arriving, instructing the Witches to get
their men out if Throckmorton was attacking.
He wasnt, of course, but Varinia concluded theyd done their part
anyway and escape now--before the whole place blew up around them--was a
good idea.
But there was one problem: The heat from the lava coming out of the stone
panel on the stairs below was so intense that no one could come near it without
being roasted! That left only the Vikings teleportal, and so
the Witch, with Dorrik gone, ordered the Dwarves to make for the southern
side of the courtyard.
The distance was short, and Varinia made it there quickly only to wind up
arguing with Ronessa, who--though equally eager to leave--feared to go without
Ravens express command.
They wound up waiting and arguing a few more minutes until Thor finally destroyed
the Liches throne.
It was then that the real terror began, for the power of the throne was all
that was keeping the entire School from collapsing into the Pit which lay
beneath it. Now, with the throne broken, portions of the Lower School began
to give way as whole blocks of buildings and towers began falling backward,
plummeting down into the blackness of the Pit. Many of the School-members
died in the cataclysm, but many still survived, retreating like ants to the
western side of the Lower School.
But they would be denied safety, for as the School started to fall down the
Pit--Things started to fly up it.
They were demons.
Demons of every shape and size: Small demons. Medium-sized demons. Large
demons.
Demons that had waited for nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine years
to claim what theyd been promised...
The harvest of souls bound to the School.
Inside the Aerie, meanwhile, Nazier decided theyd had enough even without
Ravens letters. Before the place could collapse upon them altogether,
the Black Widow began inching forward into the courtyard.
The argument had also ended amongst the two Witches. With the quaking of
the entire mountain now, escape was foremost on the minds of both, and they
rushed to open a portal through the back of the water portal
to allow the valiant defenders to escape back to Freeport while they
could.
The Black Widow quickly flew outside to the courtyard and held position
there briefly as Nazier watched their forces begin to leave. A few of the
Scandians, and a Dwarf or two who were close to the ship, did make for her
and were taken aboard. But seeing that the Witches had everything under control,
Nazier quickly ported the ship toward the tower, leaving the evacuation
behind.
For several moments, the tower swayed and groaned, filling those in the treasure
room with a dread that the whole place might collapse. Then the rumbling
and groans began to fade away as again the structure seemed to settle back
down to only a slight vibration until it ceased moving altogether.
But everyone could now feel it--the tower was tilting somewhat to the
west.
Yet that wasnt even the strangest thing: No sooner had the tower seemed
to settle back, then a set of wooden shelving built into the walls seemed
to turn to dust and collapse, dropping the items upon them to the
floor.
The Mistress of Freeport suddenly had a very empty feeling in the pit of
her stomach as she watched it happen.
Whyd it do that Espy? she asked in a very low voice, not
taking her eyes from the fallen pile of items.
The Witchs eyes were wide open in fear. I dont know,
she whispered back.
Then, a few yards away, a wooden bookcase likewise collapsed, its contents
tumbling down in a pile.
The humble Bard didnt like this turn of events one bit.
Raven, we should leave! Doremi urged.
The crown and throne, Espidreen was now heard muttering,
--Thor destroyed them both. Raven--the Potencies on this place must
be broken! Thats what it is! she exclaimed, her voice on the
verge of panic.
Meaning? Thor now spoke as he stepped up.
The throne kept this School alive as it did Nostradamus. With it gone,
the School is now aging! In a few moments, ten thousand years of age will
hit this place! All the wood--all the stone--will truly be ten thousand years
old!
But that shouldnt hurt anything, Dorrik spoke as he moved
up to them. Our cites are all that old and made of stone like this
place. It shouldnt be causing the place to shift so. It must be something
else! This is more like an eruption.
As far as Raven was concerned, it didnt matter.
Well, lets not wait for things to get worse--lets get out
of here! Everyone grab a few last handfuls of stuff and lets go. Thor,
Nightshadow--with me!
The two men scurried over to Raven, and they huddled for a quick, heated
conference in a corner. The others--save for Doremi, whose only thought was
to leave--took a last look around in search of things that might appeal to
them, thrusting a few more goods into their sacks while they could. Fosmo,
however, wasnt quite so discriminating: the Cutpurse had two large
sacks out and simply shoveled in as much as he could stuff inside them, figuring
anything here, whatever it was, was the cream of the cow, and could be counted
on to be worth a kings ransom.
Hed worry about the inventory later.
Espy! Raven now called out, and the Witch, after tucking an enchanted
quill into her own pack, made her way over to them, stepping over the jumble
of items now covering the floor.
We have a tough choice to make, Doremi heard Raven speak quietly
to her. Her voice lowered in volume as the Mistress of Freeport spoke to
the Witch, and then--with a look of trepidation of her face--Espidreen removed
a scroll from her scroll pouch and began to read it off.
Instantly, a greater teleportal opened up.
With the Potencies broken, apparently teleportals and such could now
be cast in the Upper School!
Nightshadow--reluctantly--stepped in, followed by an equally apprehensive
Thor, who took a last look at Doremi and the others as if he was concerned.
Then he was gone.
Across the chamber, Doremi felt relieved that they could
portal out to safety, and she left the stairway, hurrying forward
to enter the portal...
Then Espidreen closed it!
Hey! the Bard exclaimed, halting.
Most everyone, in fact, gave pause as the portal vanished.
Lady, be not we departing thence as well? the Knight questioned,
the surprise evident on his own face.
No--were taking the long way home, Raven answered back,
picking up a sack of goods. They have other things they need to do--come
on!
She gave no further explanation, but grabbed a sack of treasure and began
moving up the stairs as the others fell in behind.
Doremi wasnt sure what was happening, but at least they were finally
retreating out of this accursed place. But where had Raven sent the two most
powerful warriors in the group, and why?
The answer had to wait, for they were now in the Throne room heading for
the doors out. The portals were heavy, and all six had to use their combined
strength to pull one upward and open now that the tower was leaning
west.
Then they saw the change.
It was the Pit. No longer a great black shaft vanishing into the earth, it
was now brightly lit, filling the entire cavern with a fiery glow.
Raven rushed out to the side of the landing to see that the heart of the
orange glow was coming from deep inside the Pit. For a moment, everyone thought
it might be lava as they watched it pulse and undulate, growing in
intensity.
Then--out of the glow--a shapes began to appear, swirling about the sides
of the shaft. Too small to see clearly, they darted this way and that, almost
like bats moths darting about the flame of a candle.
What is this?! Raven wondered aloud.
No one could hazard a guess, and so none of them answered. Then one of the
shapes, coalescing into something more solid than an amorphous blob, seemed
to leave the others, soaring up towards them like a burst of lava hurled
out of a volcano.
It flew up like lightning, Raven barely having time to drop her sack and
pull the wakizashi before the shape reached them.
It was a demon!
A black, loping, bat-like demon with a hunchback and two spindly legs that
hovered a few yards off the side of the landing, assessing the group before
it as a thick, syrupy drool oozed outs the sides of its mouth.
Then it attacked, swooping in and slashing out at Raven with the claws of
its feet!
The Mistress of Freeport brought the wakizashi up, parrying away the claws
as Giles drew his blade and charged in, thrusting the
Holy Sword into its side.
With a screech, the beast vanished in a puff of red smoke as the building
again shuddered.
Raven, Espidreen screamed as she realized what was happening,
Hell is taking this place back--that was the price for Nostradamus
breaking the Pact! If we dont get out of here now, were going
down to Hell with the School!
Whether or not the Witchs assessment was true, the Mistress of Freeport
wasnt waiting for any more demons to make an appearance. She grabbed
her sack with one hand while keeping the wakizashi in the other.
Move! she shouted, bolting toward the causeway.
The others hurried behind her--and they all saw the next problem as they
moved west: The causeway around where the Leviathan had fallen had broken
away leaving a hole nearly twenty feet long!
Raven came to a stop at the edge, trying to think fast: It was too far for
her to jump even with a running start.
Doremi saved her the trouble.
I got it! the Bard panted, reaching into her enchanted
pouch.
Out came her hand, casting forth a handful of spider webs. They flew out,
shimmering and expanding in size as Romulus net had done, until they
floated down and fastened themselves between both edges of the broken
bridge.
Doremi immediately threw her small sack of treasure over to the other side
and jumped onto the web, shakily starting to make her way across to the other
side, followed by Raven who imitated her move after heaving her own sack
across and sheathing her blade.
Fosmo now raced up, toting a heavy bag across each shoulder. Both were so
crammed with treasure he had to drop one and spin around in a circle to allow
him enough momentum to hurl the sack all the way across the void. He followed
it up with the second, then leapt out onto the web, clambering toward safety
after Dorrik, Espidreen and Giles.
Raven, moving like a cat, was the first to scramble upon the other side of
the causeway as the tower lurched again, and immediately she reached back
a hand to help Doremi up to safety.
The others, still a few yards away, held on for dear life, praying the web
would hold and no more of the bridge collapse as the tower shook for what
seemed like forever. Then they could feel it relax as it began to settle
upright again.
Their prayers had been answered, for the causeway remained intact and the
Fellowship all made it across to safety, scrambling off the net and re-gathering
their bundles quickly as they could.
Dorrik had the hardest time, being a Dwarf weighed down with an assortment
of Dwarven arms from the First Age hed scavenged, but finally he made
his way after the others, climbing onto the other side of the
bridge.
Raven now took the lead again, racing for the Conjuration room with the Bard
right on her heels.
There was no hope of retrieving the huge spell book upon the lectern. It
was left behind and not even Espidreen gave it a second thought.
They were actually relieved when they passed into the darkness of the temple
to Lilith. Now at the rear of the tower, away from bridge and the Pit, they
somehow felt safer.
But they werent, for again the tower rumbled and lurched violently,
shaking for several moments until it quieted down.
It was like a woman in labor: the tower would shake in torment and then the
shaking would subside as if all was safe, only to start up once again. Now
the pains were now almost coming one right after another--and getting stronger
each time!
Raven we cant make it back to the ship before this place
collapses! Espidreen shouted in panic. We shouldnt have
used the scroll up!
The Mistress of Freeport had the same thought and gazed at the
portal generator next to the doors. If they could only make it
work theyd have a decent shot of escape. Otherwise....
Espy--figure out how to work this thing! We dont have time to
take the stairs; they may give way before we can get down them! Raven
urged.
Raven--I dont know how the thing works!
Well, figure it out, blast you! the Mistress of Freeport
snapped back, grabbing the Witch by the arm and angrily thrusting her toward
the golden discs.
Has anyone got a portal spell we can use instead? the
Bard cried out.
No! Raven replied, glancing back. Were out of
everything.
Espidreen was desperately reading the spell off the outer ring, but nothing
was happening and she pounded the generator in frustration.
Raven, its not working! the Witch cried out. Its
a Sorcerer spell!
As if to taunt them, the tower now gave another lurch, moaning in protest
as it pitched dangerously westward and then violently righted itself, vibrating
to a stop.
Now the damage was starting to get serious: some of the blocks from the arches
supporting the roof began to give way, actually plunging through the bottom
of the Gallery with horrid crashes!
Doremi--you can read scrolls! Read that spell
off--hurry!
The Bard instantly complied with Ravens order, stepping up as Espidreen
moved away and reading off the Sorcerer-tongue inscribed upon the outer
ring.
Again, nothing happened.
Then the ground seemed to nearly give way beneath their feet, and the entire
tower dropped slightly.
Aint fair, Fosmo was muttering. Me shouldnt
have to die with the greatest load o stuff me ever had at once without
gettin t enjoy it! Aint fair!
Raven had gambled that they could make it back to the ship, but now it was
looking like shed bet on the wrong horse, for this place was shaking
itself apart. They were all on the verge of panic now--except for Raven,
who blocked out everything else as she studied the
generator.
If no one else could figure out how it worked, then
she would!
The ring turns, she was saying calmly to herself. That
means we have to set it in the right place before reading the spell
off.
The Mistress of Freeport now turned the ring so that the beginning of the
spell was at the very top position.
Read it, Doremi!
This, the Bard did again--but once more, there was no effect. They tried
it a couple more times as Raven positioned the wheel in different ways, but
still nothing happened.
Raven, I dont even feel any magic from the spell, the Bard
reported.
Espidreen, meanwhile, was jumping up and down like she couldnt hold
her water. Raven, its not working--the magic may have died with
Nostradamus! We better run for it and hope for the best.
The Mistress of Freeport ignored her, focused on the device.
That thing turns, she spoke once again. We know why the
inner rings have to turn, but why would they make a device with a moveable
outer ring? Either because they wanted to, or because they had
to. Is there any reason they would want to?
Oblivious to the terror around them, the Mistress of Freeport considered
the question.
Only if it was some sort of defensive measure to hinder people like
us from using the thing, she concluded. But they werent
worried about intruders, and so that would make it unnecessary. That means
they might have had to make it moveable! So if its not meant to turn so
the ring can be set in a specific position to enact the spell...what else
could you do with a ring that can be moved in a circle?
Ignoring Espidreens urgent pleas to run while they could, she reached
out, placing her fingers upon the surface of the outer ring and slowly began
to move it in a circle as she pondered her own question. Then she began to
increase her speed. Faster and faster she spun the ring--and then it
activated!
The ring jumped on its own, spinning like lightning as the runes upon it
glowed with magic fire. Then there came a WHOOSHING sound and a glowing pentagram
appeared on the ground before it.
Thats it! Raven exclaimed in triumph, looking down. Come
on!
Wasting no time, she jumped upon the pentagram and both vanished.
Espidreen was next, and then Doremi took her turn without hesitating, for
at this point it didnt matter where the portal generator led
to--anyplace had to be closer to safety than the very top of the
tower!
One by one, the Fellowship emerged at the back of Asmodeus temple below,
and as soon as the last of them appeared, they were running as fast as
Dorriks short legs would allow, retracing their path to the museums
stairway.
Behind them, the great statue of Asmodeus lay broken and toppled over upon
the altar.
The tower was shaking and swaying badly now, and this time didnt stop,
but varied between light and severe shaking as horrid snapping sounds came
from all directions.
The stonework was finally giving way.
From above came the sound of tremendous crashes as whole floors of the tower
now began to collapse upon each other. More than once, the roof ahead of
the Fellowship bulged precariously downward as if ready to give way and crush
them from the tremendous weight pressing upon it.
But they paid it no heed and pressed forward with all their vigor.
Elsewhere, the floor rose up in spots, forcing them at times to climb over
small mounds of stone to press onward. But, moment by moment, they were nearing
the western side of the building where safety awaited.
Bad as all this was, an unnerving sound now arose, and to describe it would
be impossible. The closest one might come would be to imagine a great hall
filled with a myriad of people desperately trying to escape a fire through
one small door.
That was what it sounded like.
It started out as only a background noise muffled by the groans and rumbles
of the building itself, but it began growing louder. What it was, and where
it came from, no one knew or even cared. All they knew was that they had
to run without stopping or their end was at hand.
Think Nazier is out there? Doremi panted out as she
ran.
Yes! Raven responded. We just need to reach
him!
How...do you know? an exhausted Dorrik called out from
behind.
Because he knows what Ill do to him if hes not, and I survive!
Trust me, hes there!
They continued their desperate run, and then finally a great sight now rose
up ahead them: the eastern set of stairs down to the museum!
Raven paused there as the others caught up, most all breathing heavily from
exhaustion.
Keep going, she ordered. Have Nazier wait--Ill be
along.
Yer not leavin us! Fosmo spoke.
Ill be back! she replied glancing over her shoulder. Get
to the ship!
Then she was running west, leaving them to go on.
No, Raven, dont! Doremi screamed after her as Espidreen
led the way down the stairs.
But the Mistress of Freeport was vanishing into the workshop, apparently
planning to loot some of the materials and sketches of the time travel device,
gambling another minute or two wouldnt make a difference.
Fosmo, sucking wind, and his muscles and shoulders aching like the devil
from the weight of his two sacks, followed Espidreen, making his way downstairs,
determined that both he and his booty would escape this accursed tower, or
die trying.
The place was coming down around them as masonry showered upon the corridors.
In the museum below, the great pillars supporting the roof now began to tip
over and fall like trees to the axe as the Bard hurried after the Cutpurse,
feeling the stairs tremble beneath her feet. She was nearly to the bottom
when her side of the stairs started to give way, and she leapt out, landing
on the floor of the museum as the stairs shed just been moving down
collapsed down into the zoo.
It was a painful landing, but she was only bruised and Giles immediately
wrenched her to her feet and dragged her toward the southern side of the
stairway which was still--at least for now--in one piece.
Then she saw it: A guitar--and a very nice one, placed upon its own stand
next to the stairs leading down, and obviously in need of rescue.
It was just within reach and--quick as that--she grabbed it by the neck and
started down the stairs in one single move.
At the bottom, Espidreen had come to a halt, gasping for breath as she doubled
over. Despite her terror, the Witch had reached the limits of her strength
and simply could not go on. Rescue came in the form of Giles, following right
behind, who simply picked her up and carried her forward, staggering toward
the other end of the room.
The sound of the death throes of the First School now came from every direction:
Rumbles, crashes, snapping, sliding, coupled with the screams and wails of
the gods knew what, nearly deafened them.
Doremi, leading the pack, was at the other end of the zoo now, and a horrid
thought came to her: What if the Grand Stairway or the stairs across to the
western side of the tower had collapsed?
She pressed on and found they hadnt. At least, the one that counted
hadnt!
Down she stumbled, to the landing at the western side, and on she went, retracing
the way back to the Music room.
Then the tower shook like it had never shaken before, in one moment seeming
to drop, pitch westward and twist itself. From every direction came the sounds
of walls and ceilings giving way and collapsing as the humble Bard was nearly
buried by part of the collapsing ceiling, barely managing to dive to the
safety of an alcove leading into one of the Libraries as great blocks fell
behind her, covering the hallway.
Finally the collapse ceased, and Doremi came out from beneath her arms shielding
her head. Then she looked up--only to see something looking back at
her.
It was an imp!
Almost a foot tall and wearing a small straw hat with a wide brim, the warty
little green demon with a large hooked nose was toting, of all things, a
bag nearly equal to its own size, bulging with who knew what! It had scrambled
atop the pile of debris as it too sought escape, then caught sight of her
the same time she caught sight of it.
Doremi froze, unsure what to do.
Hey--you still here?! it exclaimed with a funny accent and a
look of surprise.
The rumbling started up again as the tower gave yet another
shudder.
At that, the imps face furrowed in fear as it looked about, and then
it spoke again.
I dont know about you--but Im gettin while the
gettins good!
Then it was gone, scrambling down the hall into the darkness with its bag
of booty.
There was no time to wonder about it, and the Bard forced herself up and
down the last few yards to the Music room where a wonderful sight greeted
her eyes: a gangplank stretching out into the sill of the open
window.
The ship was there!
Filled with a new reserve of energy, Doremi rushed for the window.
The sight that greeted her as she looked out was beyond imagination, and
the source of the shrieking became apparent: the Black Widow stood
by waiting, floating outside. But the land around the School had become a
living nightmare. The First School of Sorcery--as large as a city--was surrounded
on three sides by an enormous field of red and orange flame swirling around
like a tornado, above which sat the eastern portions of the Upper School,
a last island of safety from the flames of destruction. A cacophony of shrieks
and noise no human words could describe drowned out the sounds of massive
basalt towers that had stood for nearly a hundred centuries collapsing and
falling into the abyss awaiting them below.
The crew were waving for her to cross before the tower gave another shudder,
and the Bard quickly dragged a chair to the window and scurried up into the
sill. She nearly jumped to the other side of the plank and then she was safe,
for the first time allowing herself to breathe easily.
The others had now found their way to the Music room and were starting to
make their own way out of the tower. Fosmo, first to reach the window, took
a quick glance outside.
Espidreen was right--Hell is reclaiming its own! he muttered
in shock.
That realization was enough to propel him into the chair, then he was trying
to make his way across the plank with his two heavy sacks.
Again the tower shuddered, and the Cutpurse nearly pitched over the side
of the plank, dancing like a marionette to keep his balance with the two
sacks. Then he was across, hurling the sacks with relief down into the hold
along with his pack.
The tower had settled down for a moment and now the other three came across
to safety, likewise dumping their sacks and packs down into the hold from
the deck above.
Wheres that blasted Raven? Nazier called out from the weather
deck.
She said to wait for her, Doremi shouted back up.
Nazier gritted his teeth in frustration and let out a hiss as he shook his
head.
He wanted out as much as anyone else!
It was then that something suddenly occurred to Doremi.
Nazier! she called up from the main deck. While were
waiting--there are some priceless books in that room there, she shouted,
pointing back to the Music room. Could someone please help me to save
a few of them?
The master of the ship considered the request a moment and then ordered two
of the hands to assist the humble Bard.
Showing no small degree of courage in the face of extraordinary danger, back
Doremi went across the gang plank, re-entering the Music room as the deck
hands followed after.
She flew to the bookshelves, grabbing for the first volume to see what it
was.
Okay, take this one, she spoke, dropping it to the floor as she
reached for the next.
This one, too, she decided, likewise dropping it. Then she pulled
out the third.
And this--oh, just take them all! she decided, tearing at the
bookcases and throwing whole stacks of tomes to the ground.
It took two trips, with Giles and Fosmo assisting on the last run, to transport
all the books to the Black Widow, where they were conveniently slipped
beneath the canvas top of a ships launch for the time being.
All this time, more and more of the School had vanished into the maelstrom
of fire. Now, little more than the tower itself, still resting upon the ledge
it was built atop, was left of the place--and Raven still had yet to
appear!
Then they heard the sound of glass breaking from somewhere above and a chair
came hurtling down to the foredeck along with the shards of glass from the
broken window.
It was Raven, breaking out a window on the fourth level to escape!
The Mistress of Freeport now tossed out a sack of booty down to the ship
and climbed into the window sill. Once there, she simply stepped out onto
one of the spars of the ship, which was nearly touching the side of the tower.
Then she grabbed hold of a line and slid down to the deck as the others ran
up to her.
Okay, she muttered, releasing the line. All done--time
to go!
Wasting no more time, the Mistress of Freeport headed for starboard stairs
up to the weather deck, Doremi right with her.
They had not ascended more than a few steps when a cry went up from behind,
and the pair stopped in their tracks, wheeling back.
A Thing--there was no other word for it--had appeared, floating in the air
portside, towering over the deck. Ghastly beyond description, it resembled
an ogre-sized black-robed humanoid holding a scythe etched with burning red
runes. Two glowing eyes of greenish yellow fire stared out at them from what
would have been a cowl were the creature not one solid black mass that ebbed
and flowed in an invisible Ethereal wind.
Giles drew the Holy Sword and took several steps toward the monstrosity.
Fosmo, too, had his rapier out in an instant--although he made no attempt
to get close--and Raven shoved Doremi down to the deck, following after and
putting herself between the Thing and the Bard as she pulled the
wakizashi.
Were not a part of the School! she shouted up to the Thing.
You have no rights to us! In fact, were the ones who broke the
throne and crown and helped you reclaim this place!
Whatever it was, seemed unimpressed and slowly looked up and down the deck
at the mortals gathered upon it.
Some never, it spoke with an evil, windy voice.
Others, it said, fixing its gaze on Raven, just
not now.
Then it was gone, flying down into the chaos beneath the vessel.
Doremi grasped Ravens trembling arm.
Raven, can we, like, leave--now?!
Nazier...get us out of here! Raven shouted in
response.
Nazier needed no urging and pushed the helmsman away as he grasped the wheel
and concentrated on ordering the ship to rise and depart this doomed
place.
Raven and Doremi, meanwhile, took a quick glance over the side into the nightmare
below.
I never knew Hell was this real, Doremi muttered.
Me neither, Raven muttered back. What was that
thing?!
I think its called a kemp. Theyre demonic familiars
of the Hell Lords. I think that was the kemp of You-Know-Who
himself!
Raven now turned away and led the entire group up the stairs to the weather
deck. At the same time, Nazier caused their hearts to stop by shouting out,
Somethings wrong--were not rising!
You weak-minded--get out of there!
Angrily, Raven rushed to the helm and pushed Nazier away from the wheel,
grasping for the spokes. Her mind was far stronger than Naziers, and
she exerted her full will on the wheel, commanding it to take them
up.
In response, the Black Widow started shaking and her bow began tilting
upward toward the night sky.
Hearts started to beat again, but the relief lasted only a few seconds, for
while the bow lifted, the ship began sliding down, stern first, toward the
maelstrom of flames beneath them!
The tilt of the deck threw the Fellowship, along with some of the crew, against
the stern bulwark. Still Raven held on, beads of sweat forming on her brow
as she exerted all her mental strength to get the ship to rise. Higher and
higher rose the bow, but lower and lower sank the stern as the
Widow seemed bent on following the Lower School into the
abyss.
It seemed this would be a battle of wills between the most brilliant mind
on Islay and the will of Hell itself, and Doremi feared Hell would win this
fight.
Raven cursed and kicked the wheel, shouting for it to rise. But second by
second, the Widow, unable to hold her own, was being pulled down even
as what was left of the School--already mostly submerged--was itself quickly
collapsing and returning to the Hell that it had come from.
The lip of the maelstrom was soon above them as they came ever nearer the
bottom of the vortex now about a hundred feet below.
Espy, quick, Raven could be heard shouting, --use that
Book of Destinies and get us out of here!
Raven, its somewhere in the hold--I dont have it!
the Witch cried back from the stern.
Raven let out a groan of utter frustration. If anyones holding
back a Wish--use it now! she then screamed in
desperation.
Doremi let out her own groan and shook her head. This really was the end--even
Raven was reduced to grasping at straws.
I guess this is it, the Bard thought. Im going to die now.
And this is how it ends--sucked down to Hell on a flying pirate ship because
some people wanted to take vengeance on a Liche. Well, I guess death never
comes at a good time, but I never thought it would end like this. At least
I helped a few people in my time. Im sorry I didnt get to help
more.
I suppose someone might write a song about me, and they can call it
The death of the Bard who was too stupid to listen to the painting
that told her to run while she could, but went ahead and joined this group
of nuts who decided to attack the most powerful Liche in Islay and his entire
school, and got dragged down to Hell for their
trouble.
When am I gonna learn?
Espidreen, too, realized Raven was out of answers. Pressed against the stern
bulwark by Nazier and two deck hands, as the flames drew nearer, she fumbled
in her pouch for the last scroll she had left and started reading. Finishing,
she let out a Good luck! to the rest as she crushed a black pearl
to her breast.
A portal opened and she gave a scream as she was sucked into the
Ethers!
Doremi was aghast.
Suicide, she thought! Sheer suicide!
Above, Raven didnt blame her. Normally shed plot revenge for
anyone daring to abandon the party--death not withstanding. But in this case,
it was 100% death to remain and 99% death to cast oneself into the Ethers,
so she couldnt feel anger at Espidreen.
Anything had to be better than dying in the flames of Hell itself. Truth
be known, she might have ether balled herself if only she had the
spell left!
The Black Widow was completely perpendicular now. Those of the crew
not gathered at the stern held on for dear life to whatever they could, or
scrambled to the front of the forecastle to brace against it. The shrieks
of Hell around them were so loud now they even drowned out Ravens frantic
screams at the wheel--in Yamatan--so no one at the stern heard, let alone
saw, the two anchors at the bow swing free and whip their capstans around
like childrens tops as they fell downward, dragging their chains with
them.
The port anchor fell harmlessly past the stern, reached the flames, and was
momentarily surrounded by an aura of light as it left the Nexus and entered
the Hells, where it was consumed in an instant. But then the starboard anchor
ripped off its capstan and the whole mass of anchor, chain and capstan hurtled
past the weather deck, catching one of the crew at the stern and knocking
him over the side. The hapless seaman, already dead, fell into the flames
and Doremi shut her eyes, unable to watch.
Raven had now stepped into the rim of the wheel to anchor her feet and had
wrapped her arms around two of the top spokes in a death grip, determined
to concentrate to the very end on willing the ship to rise, even as it was
inexorably pulled toward the flames now only yards away.
To either side, a liquescent nightmare of swirling Hellfire spun around them
as the Widow settled ever deeper into the maelstrom. While the flames
were bright, they were still in another dimension so they gave off no heat
nor did they cast light, and the ship herself was dark. Beyond the bow, the
stars in the sky twinkled above, and Doremi thought, as she took a last look
up, that perhaps it was a good vision to die with.
All at once, she became angry at herself.
Im sorry--I will not take that attitude. If Im going to die,
then Im going to die, but I refuse to lay here and wait for it. Im
going to fight to my last breath to live,
and I may not be able to do anything, but at least Ill
try!
The weather deck of the Widow was now against her back like a wall,
and Doremi turned to face it. She found a line hanging down from somewhere
above, just to Ravens right side and grabbed hold, pulling herself
up the few feet to the helm. The flames were now almost upon the stern and
only seconds were left to the end.
Doremis last act was to grasp one the rim of the ivory wheel, anchor
herself, then let go of the rope and wrap her other arm around the wheel
and hang on.
Up, wheel, she thought. Please make us go up!
No one was more surprised than Doremi herself when the
Black Widow suddenly gave a lurch and she could actually feel
it reverse course.
Were moving! Nazier shouted.
Doremi, Raven screamed, whipping her head around, whatever
you do, dont stop! Dont stop!
Below, bracing his own legs against the stern bulwark, Fosmo lay back against
the deck and wrapped his hands about Doremis legs, bracing her in
turn.
Up! Up! Up!
Over and over again in her mind she concentrated on that one word. Obediently,
the ship complied, torturously putting distance between it and the maw of
fire waiting to engulf the vessel.
But Hell would not be cheated so easily. As if some cruel game were being
played, the strain on the Widow began horribly shaking the vessel,
and Doremi could feel the deck begin to warp. Splintering wood, snapping
rigging and loose equipment began to drown out the shrieks of Hell itself
now.
Were not gonna make it; Fosmo shouted, --the ship
cant take this!
I designed this ship--she can take anything! Raven shouted back,
adding a silent I hope to herself.
The ship certainly sounded like she was done for, but still the Black
Widow rose skyward, shaking, twisting and groaning as she went. Then
at last her bowsprit slowly emerged from the maelstrom, followed by the rest
of vessel.
Still rising perpendicularly, the Widow sailed up into the night
sky.
The towers going! Fosmo now shouted.
Raven turned her head to take one final look behind. Everything but the tower
had completely vanished, drowned in the flames. The tower complex itself,
still perched atop its plateau, was now in its last moments as the ledge
it sat upon gave way and the entire structure began sliding down into the
maelstrom, making a great rumble as it went. The base slid into the flames
and the whole complex slowly tipped back upright as if it were a cork cast
upon the surface of a lake. For several moments it floated in the sea of
fire, then the building tipped forward as spouts of flame shot up its sides,
and it was drawn down to its final destruction. In its last second of life,
a gigantic glowing pentagram inscribed onto the roof of the highest
tower--Nostradamus tower--sank into the flames and vanished forever
as the Hells reclaimed what they had given millennia ago.
Just as quickly, the maelstrom collapsed and vanished with it and the
Widows bow fell forward, throwing everyone to the
deck.
Raven lost her grip and tumbled over the wheel, landing hard on the helm
fairing and losing her wind before rolling off to the deck. Doremi, determined
to hang on no matter what, had her arms locked in a death grip, concentrating
over and over again in her mind, to will the ship to rise.
Up and up went the Widow, vanishing into the darkness, but now on
an even keel.
The blue glow from the huge ball of crystal faded out and the room was enveloped
once again in total darkness.
Entertaining,
thought the Liche. I could
portal something onto your ship to kill you now. But you have
entertained me. And I havent been entertained in two centuries. In
a way, it is good you survived, for you may yet prove amusing to me for a
while longer. But remember this, my arrogant little Pirate puppet: We were
forging empires centuries before you were born. And you have the gall to
think you rule Islay because of your impotent little guild? Your Guild exists
because we--because
I--let it exist. And very soon--when it pleases me--I will
come claim it.
So take good care of my guild, Raven TenTolliver. Sleep well tonight,
confident in your own arrogance. You have done me a service--exactly as I
planned for you to. You have destroyed my enemy at a cost to me of nothing.
You took my morsel of bait, and did exactly as I willed you to, every step
of the way. And I will for you to continue on your quest, for I shall steal
that from you as well if you approach success. I already walk side-by-side
with you, without your even knowing it.
Yes, continue a while longer--and entertain me, little
Pirate.
With that, Throckmorton, the new Lord of Hocwrath, settled back in his ebony
throne and pondered the changes he would enact come morning.
Nazier flew to the wheel, trying to take control over the ship which was
soaring into the sky under Doremis mental command. It took several
moments to bring the Bard out of her fog, but then she released her grip
and took in a breath, at last relaxing face down on the deck, thankful that
at last this night of Hell was finally over.
But it wasnt.
As if the gods themselves were in conspiracy to slay the lot of them, a ball
of plasma suddenly fell down from overhead, hurtling down into the hold and
exploding with an enormous blast.
The Widow had been struck in her heart and now shook as the School
had in its death throes, as she started to plunge downward out of
the sky!
Startled by this new turn of events, Nazier fought to keep her in the air
and under some semblance of control, but the damage was done: The ship was
increasing in speed as she pointed steeply downward, headed for the hills
below.
Raven, her breath recovered, scrambled to her feet and stumbled back to the
wheel, jostling Nazier out of the way and taking grip of it yet
again.
But the wheel was barely replying to commands now.
Raven, shes broken her back! Nazier shouted out, looking
foreword. Look--shes hogging! The wheel no longer recognizes
her as a ship!
Raven gazed out and realized he was right--the ship was bulging in the middle
and her ends were sagging!
It must be Throckmortons parting shot, she muttered. I
refuse to die now! Hear me? I refuse! she then shouted into the
air.
Their one blessing was that the School was near the coast and there was just
enough control left in the wheel that the Widow avoided dropping like
a rock and crashing into a mountainside; instead, she was plummeting down
at an angle that found her shortly out over the sea.
The fog was gone now, replaced by a frosty chill in the air, and they could
see for miles. Raven was now concentrating with all she had to bring the
bow of the ship up or slow her descent, but still she headed downward at
a breakneck pace. Closer and closer came the waves, silver in the gleaming
moonlight, then the ship struck the water, her bow plowing a furrow into
the waves as the sea rushed back over the deck and the ship slipped to a
final stop.
They had survived!
But the danger was far from over, for now the ship was yawing to starboard
and pitching down by the head as the water submerged her bow.
She was going to sink, and that was all there was to it!
Raven released the wheel and rushed down to the main deck, screaming orders.
But the men didnt need to be told--they all knew what a wreck at sea
meant. The Widows crew moved like madmen, chopping down the
already damaged masts and spars to hurl them into the water as flotsam while
others made ready to launch the ships boats--one of which was filled
with books and hadnt enough room for more than a handful of men in
any case!
Whatre those books doing there?! Raven cried out as the
crew pulled the canvas cover off the boat.
Theyre from the Music Library! Doremi shouted
back.
Dump them! the Mistress of Freeport ordered.
No! Doremi screamed. Theyre
priceless!
I said dump them! Raven repeated.
The Bard broke into tears. Please--they can never be replaced!
Theyre priceless--you cant just throw them
away!
At seeing her cry, Raven immediately began to tense up and was about to shout
again, but then Nazier cried out from a few feet away.
Raven, the wheel! he shouted, looking back to the weather
deck.
The wheel! she repeated, her eyes opening wide in
concern.
Suddenly the boat and the books meant nothing to the Mistress of Freeport
as she tore back up the stairs, screaming for the hands to unbolt the wheel
from the helm.
Get those boats in the water now! Nazier then ordered.
Doremi didnt even have time to thank him before he was off shouting
orders to other seamen who were desperately trying to get the boats in the
water.
The first launch was now over the side, and then one of the hands roughly
picked the up Bard, guitar in hand, and simply pitched her over the side
into it.
The last thing she remembered was her head striking something and then all
went black.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
Doremi had already been awake for a few minutes, but she still lay in the
plush, soft bed as the soft morning sun streamed through the
windows.
Come in, she answered, sitting up and drawing the covers up to
her.
The door swung open and Raven peeped inside. No longer in her Adventuring
gear, she was back to her normal outfit.
She stepped in, smiling.
Good morning; I hope you slept well, she spoke, closing the door
as she approached the bed.
I suppose I did, Doremi responded unemotionally.
Whereve you been the past few days? And how come we havent
been allowed to leave the villa?
Raven eased herself down by the side of the bed.
I had business in Draconium I had to take care of, she answered.
I needed you all here until everything was straightened out. Now it
mostly is.
Mind telling me whats been going on? Doremi asked, crossing
her arms. I thought once Nostradamus was dead, that would be it. But
you send off Nightshadow and Thor, and we need to walk back to the ship,
then after it sinks, you and Dorrik leave us alone on the beach the next
day, and Ronessa comes back for us on a Krellan galley and portals
us here. Then everyone is forced to stay in the villa for days, wondering
where--
Raven held up a gloved hand, silencing the Bard.
Its complicated, she answered with a sigh. I sent
Nightshadow and Thor back to Freeport in the event Throckmorton had somehow
engineered an attack on us. Turns out, he didnt. But I had no way to
know for sure, and as soon as I had some spells back, I took Dorrik and came
straight home to make sure everything was all right. Hes back in Orlon
now.
Then, of course, I also needed to hurry and report to the Senate, since
I did, after all, attack the Lord of Hocwrath, which could have meant a war
between Krella and Hocwrath. But its all straightened out now, and
the Senators...are satisfied, lets say. Enough of that, though. Lets
talk about you. You performed brilliantly! You saved all our lives.
I want you to know I wont forget it. Ill make it up to
you.
Doremi lay back in the bed.
You dont owe me anything., she answered. If you want
to be my friend, I suppose thats reward enough.
Just the same....
Raven arose. Ill let you rest up.
Did you get what you wanted out of it? Doremi asked as Raven
moved to leave.
Raven recognized the tone as critical, so she paused and turned to look back
at the Bard.
Is there something wrong with avenging ones murdered father?
she asked in response. Or is it that you think Nostradamus deserved
to go on living?
No, Doremi answered. I think youve done the world
a favor. If anyone deserved to die, it was Nostradamus. I just wonder why
it is, that after they have power, evil people always seek after two things,
one of them being revenge.
Whats the other? Raven asked.
Immortality, Doremi answered.
Raven turned away.
Whats your point? she asked.
So how many circles do you have now?
Two.
Congratulations. I suppose getting the third wont be that hard
for you. Youll just march in and take it from Arwinium, I
suppose.
Raven ignored the comment. Will you be leaving? she
asked.
Doremi rolled over and looked out the window. I thought about it,
the Bard admitted. But Ive decided Ill stay--at least for
now. If I do help you, maybe--between now and then--I can help talk some
sense into you over this. Why do you think you have the right to become immortal,
anyway?
Because I can.
Raven opened the door.
One more thing, Doremi added. Im going to do exactly
what we agreed upon--Ill run your Institute and make it the finest
Institute of Music Islay has ever seen.
Good.
But just so you know--Ill use it to help other people as I told
you I would. But I wont use it to help you and your
plans.
Then why are you staying? Raven had to ask.
Because I choose to.
Not that I mind the answer, the Mistress of Freeport observed,
but I get the impression you have an ulterior motive behind
it.
Well--dont you have ulterior motives in everything you
do?
Yes, Raven admitted, but thats fine for me.
It can be dangerous for others. If youre thinking about somehow getting
in my way, Doremi....
Why would I do that? Youd just kill me--thats the way of
evil, isnt it?
Raven made no response to the comment, but instead the Mistress of Freeport
moved to leave the room.
Youre a magnificent woman, Raven, Doremi continued. You
dont know how much it hurts that youre not what you pretended
to be.
I never told you anything that wasnt true,
Doremi.
I know--youre too smart for that. Youre one of those people
who know how lie by using truth.
Raven hesitated, her back to the Bard. And then she spoke once
more.
That boatload of manuscripts and song books you managed to have Nazier
drag out of Nostradamus Music Library for you is safe and sound at
the inn. I trust your conscience will still permit you to make use of
it.
Doremi laid back into the pillows.
I dont claim to be perfect, Raven, she replied. But
the difference between us is, those manuscripts are something I think should
belong to everyone, and I plan on letting everyone who loves music have access
to them once the Institute is up. Everything you took out, you took only
for yourself and your plans. You really dont care about anyone
else.
Part of Raven was angry and made her want to rush back in and smite Doremi
for her insulting comments.
But another part knew she was right.
Selfish as I am, Im glad to have been able to place you in a
position where you could obtain something of such importance to you,
Raven finally responded. And Im pleased to grant yet another
dream of yours--well be leaving for Arwin tomorrow morning. Youll
get to see for yourself what treasure hunting is like
there.
With that, she shut the door behind her.
That afternoon, they held one last great banquet for Thor and the Scandians,
but not before Raven and Morgaine got in a terrific rowe. Doremi had been
walking down a hall when Morgaine had angrily stalked out of a Library, pausing
only long enough to glare at her and ask what she was looking at.
The humble Bard replied, Nothing, and off she continued, cursing
Raven under her breath as the Mistress of Freeport stormed out to watch her
leave, the veins of her neck nearly popping she was so mad.
Then she caught sight of Doremi and growled, Well, what are
you looking at?!
Nothing--I was just going to the water closet! the poor, belittled
Bard replied.
Raven then retreated back into the Library and slammed shut the
door.
Bad as this event was, no one would let it detract from honoring the Scandians,
whose courage and tenacity had withstood everything from a storm of Hocwrathians,
to the wrath of Hell itself. They had done what they had come for, and now
they would be returning home. The Bard also said her last farewell to
Nightshadow. There was something on his mind, she perceived, but he didnt
go into it, and one thing was clear--he genuinely liked her, and in him she
had found a new friend.
The same held true for Thor.
It was the middle of the night when the Scandians had finally drunk themselves
full, and then the time came for them to depart.
The windows of her room looked down upon the dock, and Doremi watched as
Raven and Nightshadow slowly--almost with deliberate intent to forestall
the inevitable--walked in the moonlight toward the end of the dock where
Thors longship awaited.
Those two make an interesting couple, she thought to herself as the
pair, looking like two twins in their hooded cloaks, with their two swords
tucked in their sashes, walked side by side.
The Bard was truly sorry to see Nightshadow and Thor depart. She hadnt
known them long, but shed become fond of both. And Raven had been right:
Nightshadow did indeed possess an evil Talisman, but an evil man he was not.
A troubled man, yes, but at heart Doremi felt he was actually a good man.
And she was much the richer for having made his acquaintance.
Good luck, Nightshadow, she whispered. I hope you find
the peace you want.
I take my leave of you now, Cousin, Nightshadow spoke, turning
his head to look at Raven. I am glad to have met you.
Her hands clasped behind her back as she walked, Raven stared down at the
planks of the dock.
Nightshadow, Ive come to respect you, she said quietly.
I--I have something I need to be honest with you about before you
go.
You mean that youre not really my cousin? he
asked.
Surprised, Raven turned to him.
How did you know?
I suspected when Doremi told me you had a sister named Aradawn, who
died, came the reply. Aradawn was my grandmothers name.
Uncle Orrin said nothing about having two daughters, and so I suspected you
must be Shibatos daughter. As soon as I saw you fight, I knew you were
truly his daughter, and not my Uncles. But that is good because
Shibato was my friend.
They were near the end of the dock now, and they both halted.
Please know that I did not take the name either to bring disrepute
upon your family, or to deceive you, Raven told him. Ive
actually been Raven TenTolliver since I was nineteen. It started out when
your letter came for us, and Aradawn took her family name. We were as close
as two people could be, and she wanted me to take the name too. I didnt
for a long time, until she died. A big part of the reason I took it was,
I think, so a part of her would always be with me. I miss her so
much.
I wish I could have known her.
I wish you could have too.
In any case, Nightshadow spoke, I take no offense. I have
adopted you as my cousin, and as far as Im concerned, my cousin you
are. At least that way I can pretend I have some family to come home to other
than Cassandra, who doesnt want me.
Raven reached over and grasped his arm, and Nightshadow looked into her
face.
There will always be a place for you here, she spoke. And
a place with me. I dont think youll be happy living in the halls
of the Dwarves or the ice lands of Scandia. When you tire of them, come back
here to Freeport. Better yet--stay now. Im off to an even greater adventure
than the one with Nostradamus--that was only the first part of it. Nightshadow,
with you and I together, nothing can stop us. Join me, and a years
time will see us sit as the Emperor and Empress of Islay.
Nightshadow shook his head.
I dont want to rule anyone, Raven, he spoke, a tone of
sadness in his voice. And Ive done with my share of adventures.
For thirty seasons, I have trod this continent, an object of revulsion, cursed
to wear this mask to hide the hideous visage beneath it. People either hate
me or they fear me, but none want me. My cousin Dierdre, who I refused to
love though I was betrothed to her, was more noble than I, and is now dead
because of me. Where I go, death follows.
I am weary of it all, and I will not go on any more. I go now to Orlon,
and if Brigit be merciful, my own death will not be so many seasons from
now. Then Dorriks people will destroy the Sapphire so no one
like Nostradamus ever gets a hold of it. I have avenged my Uncle, and my
life here in Islay is over. I shall not come back. But if Islay should some
day need me--then return I shall. For now, farewell! May Brigit light your
path, Cousin!
Nightshadow placed his hand atop Ravens, then let go and strode across
the gangplank to the deck of the Windhawk. Two Vikings hauled the
plank aboard behind him and Thor, at the stern tiller, looked down on
Raven.
Lady Raven, he spoke, it has been an honor to have fought
at your side. You are the first Islayan woman I have met worthy to be the
mate of a Scandian!
Raven smiled up at him.
And you are one of very few men Ive known deserving to be called
a man, she answered with a nod. Fare thee well, Thor.
And thank you for permission for some of my ships to sail through your
waters."
So long as they fly my banner, my people will let them be, the
Viking answered. Not all the Norse will honor my banner, but the ones
that count will.
And each Summer I'll send a ship of goods for your people, Raven
added.
Thor barked a Norse command to his men, and they began to row the ship away
from the dock as Raven stood at the end of the dock watching for several
minutes as the Windhawk began fading into the darkness.
Just before it vanished, Nightshadow and Thor raised their hands toward her
in a final farewell. Back on the dock, Raven, too, raised up the palm of
her hand and held it until the ship was lost to her view.
A feeling came upon her, one she hadnt known in decades--the sadness
one might feel if ones friends were departing, perhaps never to be
seen again.
No, she thought
to herself as she lowered her arm, I have no friends. Friends betray you.
Or theyll leave you. And at best, theyll hurt
you.
Alone, Raven walked back up the dock and ascended the tiled stairs to the
security of her villa.
And so it was, on a brisk night in April, before the twilight of a new dawn,
that Nightshadow left Islay for the last time and sailed into the mists of
legend.
Here ends what I'll be putting online. Therer are 3 or 4 more chapters to do and then I'll polish the whole and the book will be done.