A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  Cornar, however, was drawn to the circular hole marring the far wall. Chatter sounded behind him, but Cornar ignored it. He felt that irresistible pull toward the hole and the vault beyond. This was the place where the voice had compelled him to go.

  As Cornar neared the opening, a pillar of light shone into the vault. He stepped through the hole in the wall, seeing that the wall was nearly as thick as a man was tall. The Keepers obviously meant for this room to stay hidden.

  Once through the hole, Cornar cautiously surveyed the space. It was a plain gray, except for orange shards and jagged gray stone protruding from the walls—they looked to be impaled, as the walls showed signs of cracking. The vault was wider than it was deep. At first glance, Cornar supposed it was about fifty phineals wide and thirty phineals deep, rising two stories.

  The hole which marred the western wall was jagged, and nearly ten phineals in diameter. Sunlight shone through that hole, beaming across the room and ending at a waist-high pillar in the center of the space. The pillar was the only thing in the vault, apart from the rubble.

  What was this place? He wandered through the vault, examining the walls. The orange rock seemed unnatural and glistened.

  “… was harder the farther my spell burrowed,” Tinal said. “I think I spent several minutes trying to get my spell to penetrate the wall completely. It almost felt like something was dispelling my magic.”

  Cornar cocked his head, noting that Ordreth and his group must be in the other room. He didn’t look for his nephew, though. That irresistible urge filled Cornar with an urgency to uncover what lay hidden in this vault.

  Consumed with curiosity, Cornar’s eyes were on the pillar. It was just as plain as the rest of the room, but was off-white—almost ivory in color. It was about a phineal wide and rose two-and-a-half phineals from the ground. Cornar rounded the pillar, finding a gash along its western side.

  Intrigued, Cornar looked at the hole in the wall, then at the gash. The two points were almost perfectly aligned.

  “What did you find, Cor?” Igan asked, standing with Tinal just beside the crude doorway.

  “I don’t know…” Cornar trailed off, kneeling beside the pillar. This pillar is hollow, he thought, noting darkness beyond the gash. He glanced back to the hole in the wall, perplexed. If something tore through that wall, wouldn’t it have destroyed the pillar too? He looked around him, noting gray and brown rubble.

  Shaking his head, Cornar slid his hand along the gash’s edge. What could have cracked this while leaving the rest of it intact?

  A soft hum resonated from the pillar, and then its western side changed. Four grooves appeared, like a transmutative shift, forming a square. Gray-green light flickered from the grooves, and another groove appeared, cutting horizontally down the square’s center.

  “By Heleron’s Trident…” Cornar muttered, still kneeling.

  The stone within the flickering lines depressed into the pillar, then split apart, violently disappearing.

  Impossible…

  Cornar stared at the pillar with amazement. Where had the rest of its surface gone?

  Sunlight illuminated the pillar’s hollow interior, revealing thick layers of dust. The dust coated several objects: two dark-red tomes standing upright and five red rectangular cases—the same width as the tomes—stacked atop each other. The seven objects barely fit in the hollow space.

  “What was that?” Midar shouted, entering the vault with Kamdir. Ordreth and Sharon were right behind them, followed by Demsal and Hem.

  Footsteps hurried around Cornar, but he ignored his companions. Those objects in the pillar beckoned to Cornar. How was that possible? Still kneeling, Cornar leaned forward.

  “So, someone was hiding some texts?” Kamdir asked quizzically.

  “Seems an odd purpose for such a large room,” Midar remarked.

  This is your destiny, Cornar Dol’shir, that booming voice echoed in his mind. The irresistible urge intensified, and Cornar reached his hand toward the tomes, but Ordreth quickly snatched his uncle’s wrist.

  “Wait, Uncle,” Ordreth urged. “Let Sharon check it.”

  Sharon knelt beside Cornar, adjusting her thieving lenses.

  “Are you okay, Cor?” Igan asked. Igan’s question and Ordreth’s grip awakened Cornar from that compelled stupor. Why had he reached for the opening? Normally, Cornar would have one of the thieves investigate such a find. It was all too common for ancient vaults and treasure troves to hold traps. Had that creature from his dreams caused him to throw caution to the wind? Perhaps Cornar underestimated that… thing.

  “I… I don’t see anything,” Sharon said, removing her lenses.

  “Odd,” Igan remarked doubtfully. “This pillar is obviously a tevisral of some kind.”

  A brief debate of speculation sounded in the vault, but Cornar reached for one of the dark-red tomes. He could faintly make out a numeral on the spine, “Two.” Cornar pulled the tome from the pillar and dusted off its cover, a thick leather-like substance. The cover lacked any signs of decay, and the pages were like those books found in the Keepers’ Temple.

  He continued dusting the cover, feeling an embossing on the surface. Cornar turned the tome to face him and started. That strange symbol he had seen all over the Keepers’ Temple marked the center of the cover. Seven sharp points protruded from a hendecagon, all arrayed above three claws clutching a circle.

  “We saw that in Klindil!” Hem exclaimed.

  “That symbol was all over the temple,” Demsal added.

  Cornar opened the cover, wafting dust into the air. He flipped past a blank sheet, coming to the tome’s title page: “The Thousand Years War. A narrative compilation by Dusel Nadim, Volume Two.”

  Dusel Nadim? Cornar wondered. This volume was definitely not one found in the Keepers’ Temple. But the title was familiar. Solidin claimed that name was the correct term for the fabled Dragon Wars.

  Confused and intrigued, Cornar flipped through the pages. The text was written in the Common language, but in an old style that Cornar had only seen once before. From what Cornar gleaned from skimming the text, this tome was a chronological reckoning of a war between the Kaldean Alliance and the Cheserithean Empire. The author—Dusel Nadim—gave commentary on battles and strategies. He often referenced names that were unpronounceable—long names that were sharp and guttural.

  Throughout Cornar’s survey of the tome more of his men returned. After a while, everyone was gathered in the vault.

  Still holding the tome, Cornar looked at his men. They gazed at him with concern. How long had he been absorbed in the tome?

  “It’s that interesting a book, huh?” Gregan asked with a chuckle. “Kalder and I have come up with a strategy.”

  “Good,” Cornar nodded, then glanced at the tome. “And we have a legitimate find.”

  “What is it, Uncle?” Ordreth asked.

  A few of the other warriors asked similar questions.

  Cornar was about to answer when Igan spoke. “Is this something we want to claim for ourselves?” the wizard asked.

  * * * * *

  It was the appointed time.

  Finally, Kaescis thought. The voices’ cries had grown louder—they too were eager.

  Today, the son of my enemy dies. Kaescis envisioned a glorious battle, maiming Mister Dol’shir and forcing him to watch as the members of his band were cut down, one by one.

  A thrill of bloodlust surged through Kaescis as the voices cried out in unison, Bring us that death! Give us destruction! Reveling in visions of his coming triumph, Kaescis spun from the war camp. He gestured for a group of Praetorians surrounding Practil to follow him. The servant was clad in Kaescis’s Triaindium Suit.

  Kaescis marched westward, and the Praetorians trailed behind him. Practil, however, walked beside Kaescis. Practil had been hesitant when Kaescis approached him about the task, but Practil eventually capitulated.

  “I appreciate your acceptance of this task, Practil,” Kaescis said gracio
usly. “You have served me well.”

  “Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” Practil said, attempting a bow of his head. He looked clunky in that armor. The pieces of the Triaindium Suit were a tad oversized for him.

  They continued in silence across the enormous chamber until Practil ventured a question. “Where are we going, Your Imperial Highness?”

  Kaescis grinned with anticipation. “The twenty-ninth floor of the western wing,” he said. “But I’ll don my armor before then.”

  * * * * *

  It was near noon when Cornar’s men finished preparing for the assault. The majority of his band would conceal themselves in the other rooms. Once Kaescis entered the vault they would attack the prince’s Praetorian Guard. Cornar decided that the vault would be the best place to isolate Kaescis.

  Ordreth was insistent that his group be the ones to inform Kaescis of the discovery. Cornar hated the idea of putting his nephew in danger, but Ordreth cleverly convinced Cornar that he should be the one to spring the trap.

  Soon after Ordreth departed, Cornar returned to reading the tome chronicling the Thousand Years War. Cornar turned the pages, skimming their contents. Dragons were continually mentioned, as if they were commonplace. One passage claimed the dragons, elves, and humans all gathered in the elven city of Kardorth. Their coalition—the Kaldean Alliance—was repelled by their enemies and forced to fall back to the heart of the elven realm.

  Cornar flipped through more pages, noting the author’s prolific references to dragons and their unpronounceable names.

  But they’re not real… Cornar told himself, struggling with the idea of dragons roaming Kalda and mingling with men and elves. He mulled over the thoughts as his men prepared themselves in the adjoining room.

  Cornar flipped another page, finding a hand-drawn illustration of exquisite detail. It depicted an amulet made of gleaming white, most likely a precious metal. The upper half of the amulet consisted of seven curved petals surrounding what looked amazingly like an eye—an oval slit holding a many-faceted gemstone as if it were an iris. Below the petals and the oval slit, the lower half of the amulet consisted of three draconic talons extending downward and gripping a large black sphere. Tiny specks within it looked like stars in the night sky.

  The words at the diagram’s top caught his eye: “Au’misha’k, el Amul tila Draco Silisra, the Amulet of Draconic Control.”

  More text was arrayed around the diagram, with lines pointing to different parts of the amulet. The text linked to the black sphere read: “Shiz’nak or the Tethering Stone.” Another line went to the brilliant ruby. “Lish’nacht’nal or the Ruby of Lish.” One of the lines pointed above the sphere: “Til’tak’shak, or the Key of the Stars.” The last line pointed to just below the oval opening: “Ka’nakar or the Activating Key.”

  Cornar blinked in disbelief, then read the text on the page beside the diagram.

  “… This was their last hope. The Kaldean Alliance was outnumbered and overpowered. Forging the Amulet proved to be their only means of achieving victory. So, the Irum’mak’sha spent decades in the pursuit of constructing this immense tevisral. They theorized that a weapon of this magnitude would end the war. And it did. Throughout the rest of this volume I will prove to you that the Au’misha’k enabled the overthrow and utter destruction of the Cheserithean Empire. The Amulet’s power laid claim to every red dragon that encountered it. None but Cheserith himself was able to defy its power…”

  That passage sent Cornar’s mind spinning. An amulet to control… dragons? he wondered, turning back to the diagram. Myriad questions filled his mind.

  Startled gasps echoed into the vault. and Cornar looked up as Kaescis—surrounded by Crimson Praetorians—strode toward the opening between the rooms. It’s too soon! Cornar thought, abruptly shutting the book. Though Cornar tried stilling his composure, anxiety still twisted his face.

  The prince was clad in his golden-red armor and held his helmet at his side. A devious grin spread across his face, and Cornar thought he could see a gleeful anticipation in the prince’s violet eyes.

  Kaescis waved his freehand, and the Praetorians took up sentinel positions throughout the sitting room.

  “My, my… what do we have here?” Kaescis mused, his voice tinged with hostility. He glanced at Cornar’s men and then ducked into the hole hewn by Tinal.

  Cornar set down the tome, rising to his feet. Had Ordreth made it to the war camp quicker than expected? No. He couldn’t have…

  “I see you received my summons,” Cornar said, attempting a smooth voice.

  Kaescis set his jaw, sauntering through the vault. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Cornar started. Though his gaze was fixed on Kaescis, Cornar could see the Praetorians in the other room standing at attention.

  The prince rounded the hollow pillar, glancing at the tome atop it. “And what is this?” Kaescis asked, picking up the tome and setting his helmet in its place.

  Cornar’s eyes settled on the helmet. I could throw it out the hole… he thought. That would give him an advantage. Cornar hadn’t expected Kaescis to arrive clad in his armor. That suit of his was extraordinary, and Cornar doubted he could defeat the prince while he wore it… After all, the Sapphire Guard had failed to penetrate the armor.

  Kaescis flipped through the tome’s pages, then started. His violet eyes widened. “The Crimson Eye…” he muttered, staring with horror at the open tome.

  The prince seemed completely unaware in that moment.

  Now’s my chance, Cornar thought, grabbing the helmet. “Attack!”

  “Few men refused Cheserith’s reign, but most of those who did were the Channelers of Aridia. They saw Cheserith for what he was: a charlatan masquerading as a divine being.”

  - From The Thousand Years War, Part I, page 45

  Kaescis jerked from the tome, starting with horror. His helmet—hurled by Mister Dol’shir—sailed through this vault of sorts and through a crude opening, clanging against hewn stone.

  “No!” Kaescis cried, dropping the tome and taking a step back. That tome, he cursed. He glimpsed the depiction of the Crimson Eye on the opened page. Had it evoked enough dismay to distract him? No matter. Kaescis had a foe to slay. And this man deserved that fate.

  Suddenly, Mister Dol’shir advanced with a lunge, drawing his weapons.

  Kaescis threw his hand aside, uttering the incantation to muster his massive Ko’delish blade. The black mist burst from his pores, coalescing into a shaft, but before the blade formed it puffed into smoke. It was if the Ko’delish just evaporated.

  “Impossible—”

  Dol’shir’s weapon swung toward Kaescis. Perplexed and enraged, Kaescis dodged the blows, raising his gauntleted freehand to defend himself.

  Kaescis uttered the incantation once again, but the result was the same. He dodged more blows from Mister Dol’shir and parried the man’s serrated dagger. They exchanged blows—Kaescis punching and Mister Dol’shir swinging and stabbing his weapons.

  The sounds of battle resounded from the sitting room—the Crimson Praetorians and Mister Dol’shir’s band clashing.

  Kaescis parried both of his opponent’s weapons, exposing himself while also exposing his foe. Mister Dol’shir aimed a kick at the same time that Kaescis’s foot shot toward the warrior, but Kaescis was faster, landing a blow against the warrior’s midsection that sent him tumbling.

  With significant distance now between them, Kaescis threw his hand aside again, uttering the incantation a third time. As with each attempt, the Ko’delish appeared but wisped away before forming his blade.

  What is wrong? he thought in confusion, watching Mister Dol’shir recover. Why won’t it manifest? Kaescis was drawn to one of the large orange shards protruding from the wall. The shard was translucent and absorbed the surrounding light.

  Mister Dol’shir made another advance. Kaescis attempted to block, but the warrior landed blows against Kaescis’s armored ribs.

  Tha
t rock… Kaescis blocked another blow from the dagger while parrying the short-sword. He had never seen rock like those orange shards. They seemed somehow alien—not of this world.

  Dol’shir’s dagger swung toward Kaescis’s face. The blade grazed Kaescis’s cheek, drawing blood. The wound pulled Kaescis back to the fight with a fury. He grappled Mister Dol’shir’s arm wielding the serrated dagger, pulling it across the man’s chest. Kaescis then charged, warding the short-sword away with his freehand while slamming Mister Dol’shir into the wall.

  Kaescis repeatedly smashed his knees against his foe’s groin until the warrior managed to get his short-sword free. Kaescis attempted to evade the blow, but the blade cut his ear. The pain was enraging. He grabbed Mister Dol’shir with both gauntleted hands and threw the warrior across the room. The warrior landed with a thud and skidded.

  Those are no ordinary rocks, Kaescis thought. Are they preventing my blade from forming? He knew of objects that could nullify magic. The ancient Kaldean Alliance had possessed many of them. One of their notorious suits of armor used a ring to nullify magical effects—it enabled its wearer to pass through barsion. The ring was made of tazerin. Tazerin was not of Kalda. It fell only from the sky. Tazerin was such a rare substance that any known deposits had been mined centuries ago.

  The sounds of Mister Dol’shir recovering snapped Kaescis back to reality. Kaescis couldn’t remain in this room if he wanted the upper hand. Here, in this vault of sorts, they were on equal ground.

  * * * * *

  Cornar scrambled to his feet. Realization spread across the prince’s face, and then Kaescis dashed out of the vault.

  Are you retreating already? Cornar grunted, feeling sore from the prince’s assault. He followed Kaescis into the sitting room, where the battle between the Praetorians and the other warriors was raging.