Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I fell into a routine. Working tirelessly on my wyverians occupied my time during the day and once a week I’d devote to researching in the Archives, looking for everything referencing Nar, no matter how minute. I became a veritable scholar on the subject. Every book, every article, every story that had ever been passed from father to son, I learned. I spent long hours perusing through musty tomes, interviewing various people, and discerning everything I could from my Narian artifacts. What was I able to learn?

  Absolutely nothing.

  Growing desperate, I came up with a brilliant plan. I started to make more toys. These toys were not as elaborate as my prized wyverians, but they were still quite clever. These were puzzles. The simple metal pieces fit together so precisely that they created shapes. I made griffins, serpents, kytes, and any of a number of other creatures that fit my fancy. The brilliance of my plan, though, was what came next. I made another journey to the human castle in R’Tal and made a gift of a dozen of the puzzles. I also selected several of my wyverians and brought them along, just so they could get a taste of the finer merchandise.

  The puzzles were received very well by the children. Never had they seen puzzles like this. They wanted more, always more! I just smiled and said that I was a simple toymaker looking to expand my list of customers. When I was putting a few of the extra puzzles away I let my bag fall open long enough for the king to see one of my wyverians. It was a silver land dragon, with emeralds for its eyes. This model could walk around a few steps and even swish its tail back and forth.

  The king fell for it. He said he had to have it. I told him that my wyverians were a passion of mine and that I really wasn’t looking to sell them as I didn’t need more gold. This story was validated by my refusal to accept payment for the gift of the puzzles. The king began to offer other treasures in lieu of gold. Again, I politely demurred, stating that I had no desire to part with them.

  Finally, after the king and I went back and forth for nearly an hour, a silver and gold colored shield was produced. It was Narian, I could see that immediately by the way the Narian blacksmith had masterfully blended the gold and silver together. The king informed me that this was his favorite shield as it had never failed him on the field of battle. He offered it in exchange for my silver wyverian. I meekly accepted. The human king became a valuable ally from that point on.

  Returning to Borahgg with my new shield, I…

  “Yes? What is it, Breslin?”

  “I have that shield. Father gave it to me quite a while ago.”

  Kasnar smiled. “I’m glad to hear it’s still in the family. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.”

  I returned home with the shield and wondered what my next step should be. Do I try visiting other cities? Perhaps I should venture north into Ylani and try my luck at Zaran, their capital? As it turns out I didn’t have long to wait. Word rapidly spread of a dwarf living under the northwestern Bohanis who made wonderfully articulate wyverian figurines. Everyone wanted one. I’ve never seen demand for a single item so high. I couldn’t make them fast enough.

  Soon I had the largest private collection of Narian artifacts ever assembled. Mind you, most of the trades were for small, insignificant pieces of armor, or maybe a slip of paper with the Narian seal on it. However you chose to look at it, I wouldn’t refuse a trade if the customer who came asking for a wyverian had a Narian item.

  In retrospect that should have been my first warning. I was becoming too careless. It was only a matter of time before I attracted his attention.

  “Who’s attention?” Breslin demanded, instantly angry.

  “Settle down, lad. I’m getting there.”

  One day I received word that a customer, who wished to remain anonymous, wanted the nicest wyverian I had and was willing to exchange a hammer head for it. I had a handle. I thought this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I…

  “That should have been your second clue something was amiss,” Athos remarked.

  Kasnar gave him a sour look. “You think? Be silent.”

  “Sorry.”

  Against better judgment, I journeyed to Bykram and met at the agreed upon location which was just outside their main entrance. I waited for two days, and when it was apparent that my mystery customer wasn’t going to put in an appearance, I decided that as long as I was there, I should consult with their scholars to see if anything new had been uncovered. However, if you’re familiar with Bykram, or any clan city, one does not venture inside without an invitation. Plus, their entrances are hidden. I had been to Bykram the prior year and knew that the only way I’d gain entrance is to be escorted by one of the Kla Rehn. So I waited.

  Nearly three days later the door finally opened and a dwarf ventured outside. I introduced myself and indicated my desire to meet with one of their scholars, Zincoff. I was escorted inside and led straight to the library where my story was corroborated. I spent a few extra days there as their library was extensive and I quite honestly lost track of time. Little did I know I was being watched.

  I had stumbled across a reference to dendrology, which is the study of…

  “Trees!” Tristofer blurted out.

  Everyone stared at the scholar. Tristofer mumbled an apology and went quiet.

  Trees. I had found an obscure horticulture manual which had a tiny mention of a practice the Narians used which could modify the behavior of trees. Modify it how? What did it mean? What would the Narians gain by changing how a tree behaves?

  “Lower your hand, Master Lukas,” Kasnar told the underling. “We all know where this is going.”

  Excitement was building again. I was certain I was exploring an angle that no one had ever considered before. What was I looking for? Would I know if I found it? As you can imagine I spent the next several weeks idly roaming about Topside, careful not to venture too far from Bykram as the surrounding forest and mountains were largely unexplored. I had come to the base of one mountain and was gazing up at one of its sides when I spotted a tree. I’m sure you know which one I’m referring to. Anyway, I located a tree that looked as though it had two separate colors on its trunk. Since a closer look was warranted, I climbed up for a better look.

  “You climbed all the way up there?” Athos exclaimed. “By hand? That’s impressive. I don’t care who you are, that’s just impressive.”

  Kasnar nodded. “You make it sound as though it’s impossible. Clearly it isn’t as the five of you also made the same journey.”

  Breslin cleared his throat. “We, uh, were carried up.”

  Kasnar leaned forward, interested. “Carried? By whom? By what?”

  “By Rhamalli!” Lukas piped up.

  “What’s that?” Kasnar wanted to know.

  “It’s a who, not a what. He’s a dragon,” Venk told him.

  “You were carried up the mountain by a dragon? You didn’t have to climb?”

  Venk and his companions shook their heads no.

  “And the dragon did this willingly? You didn’t trick it?”

  Everyone nodded their heads affirmatively.

  “That is impressive, lads. Allow me to continue.”

  Once I was standing before the tree I could see right away that this tree had been modified, its behavior changed, as this wasn’t just one tree but two. Why these two were growing together meant only one thing to me: concealment. I believed it was hiding something. Getting down on my belly I could see that there was the tiniest of openings in the rock at the base of the two trunks. Applying my eye to the hole revealed an open cavity just on the other side!

  I spent the next three days painstakingly chipping away at the rock to enlarge the hole. Once it was large enough to pass through, I entered the hole and was about to look around when I heard a commotion outside. Someone was coming up the side of the mountain, and from the sounds of it, it was more than one person. I had been spotted, and more importantly, I had the hammer handle with me. I knew that whoever was approaching was no f
riend, so I had to find a place to hide the handle. I wrapped it in a piece of cloth that I had and looked up at the junction of the trunks, which was just over my head. I wedged the handle up against the trunks and once I verified that it wouldn’t drop back down, I scrambled outside to try and intercept the encroachers before they discovered the cave under the roots. After concealing the hole the best that I could, I headed down the mountain, managing to descend about twenty feet. I stopped, whipped out my hammer and chisel, and pretended I was trying to extricate a stone when they found me.

  “Who?” Breslin demanded. “Isn’t it time you tell us who your captors are?”

  Kasnar nodded. “A Kla Rehn family by the name of Delvehearth.”

  Breslin blinked a few times with surprise. “You say that name as though we should know it. I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Of course you haven’t. They’re an insignificant moronic bunch of idiots.”

  Athos and Venk both managed to stifle their laughs, but Lukas let out a loud giggle. Venk silently wagged a finger at his son and then tapped his lips with his fingers. The meaning came through loud and clear. Lukas composed himself and fell silent.

  “What can you tell us about this Delvehearth family?” Breslin inquired, already hating the family for their treatment of his elderly grandfather. “What did they want with you?”

  “Long story short, they wanted me to unlock the secrets of Narian metallurgy.”

  “People have been trying to do that for centuries!” Tristofer cried. “No one has had any luck. Wait. Have you?”

  “Have I what, Master Tristofer?”

  “Had any luck deciphering the mystery of Narian metal?”

  Kasnar shook his head. “None whatsoever.”

  “How long have you been at it?” Athos asked, curious. A quick glance around the area revealed stacks of books and scrolls everywhere. An open notebook lay on the thin mattress. Several scrawls could be seen on its open pages.

  “I really can’t remember,” Kasnar admitted, rubbing his gnarled hands together. “So long that I can’t remember doing anything else.”

  I was escorted back to Bykram in the company of two adult dwarfs. I heard the one refer to the other as Bastion, but the identity of the second was never revealed to me. That night was the only time I had ever seen him since I was quite certain Bastion had plans to eliminate his helper just as soon as I was secured because I never saw Bastion’s assistant again after that day. I learned Bastion had been watching me from the time I had arrived at Bykram, as he was the mystery client that was responsible for bringing me to the city.

  Bound and concealed by a hooded cloak, I was escorted through the city, unchallenged, as Bastion explained I was a relative that had taken ill. I was taken to his home and locked securely in a cellar. I spent enough time in that house to learn, by keeping my ears tuned to anything happening on the other side of the door, that my captor had made a discovery within the last year or so and it was something large enough that he wanted to keep it secret.

  I hadn’t learned the nature of this discovery yet, only that somehow he was profiting off of it. More expensive furnishings began appearing in the home. They began to take pride in their appearance as every time I saw Bastion after that point he was decked out in the finest clothes. The Delvehearths had clearly stumbled onto a fortune, and they were desperate to keep it concealed.

  In several years time I was moved to another location, as I had learned Bastion had accumulated enough wealth to purchase a larger, fancier home as his old home had become too small to contain everything he and his wife had purchased. I also learned that the new home was chosen specifically because of its large storage cellar beneath the residence. Bastion knew that there’d be no escape from that cellar without proper tools and he watched me constantly to make sure I never got my hands on any. He wanted all of my knowledge of Nar, and of blacksmithing, and he was prepared to wait as long as necessary to get every last bit of it.

  My primary task was to unlock the metallurgical secrets of special pieces of armor I was given. I told them that I couldn’t do this without having access to information. Time and time again I was brought more armor, books, and scrolls. It wasn’t until Bastion had dropped off the second set of books when I realized just what it was that he had found. The imbecilic lout had located Nar, and wherever he had found it, only he knew how to find it again. To make matters worse, I learned that’s where the wealth was coming from. He had found the fabled city I had been searching for and was pillaging it, selling whatever valuables he could find. To say that I was angry was a serious understatement.

  One thing I will give Bastion, though, was he was no fool. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before his supply of armor was depleted. If that ever happened, how would he maintain the lifestyle that he and his family had become so obsessed with? Like so many entrepreneurs before him, he decided if he could learn how to make more armor, he could continue to amass his fortune at an astounding rate. He had found Nar! Surely somewhere in the city some blacksmith had kept detailed notes on what the process was for creating more. Fortunately for us, Bastion was no blacksmith. He had absolutely no skills with a hammer or chisel. He would be lost if he ever stepped foot in a foundry. He was also no scholar, having only mediocre reading skills.

  Bastion realized he needed to find someone that did possess those skills and also was familiar with the deep levels of research necessary to even begin to unlock the Narian secrets. How would he go about finding such a person? How could he get them to Bykram? That’s unfortunately why I became part of this accursed tale.

  “Wait a moment,” Tristofer interrupted. “Did Bastion know that he had discovered Nar?”

  “I’m coming to that. Be patient.”

  I believe I was imprisoned in that basement for nearly a century before one night I fell asleep and awoke in this chamber here. I can only assume that he had drugged my food. Upon awakening, and discovering that I was here, I began to explore the room. I saw, with dismay, that I was in yet another storage room, but this time all signs indicated that I was in Nar itself. I still couldn’t tell you how to get here from Bykram as the way remains concealed from me.

  “Don’t worry,” Tristofer assured him. “We know it. There’s no way any of us will ever forget it.”

  Breslin took a deep breath. “How were you able to create that mark and such a perfect plan to get us the hammer and reveal Nar’s location? You’re no wizard. None of us ever were.”

  In the midst of taking a drink of water from a nearby goblet, Kasnar choked.

  “Perfect? You think it was a perfect plan? Hardly. You’re right, lad, I’m no spellcaster. However, that doesn’t mean I didn’t have the time to learn.”

  “How does one learn how to cast spells?” Tristofer inquired, insanely curious.

  “With time,” Kasnar answered, giving the young scholar a patronizing smile. “With lots of time. And it doesn’t hurt to have several Narian spellbooks to guide you along.”

  “Narian spellbooks?” Tristofer repeated, shocked. “Narians practiced jhorun?”

  Kasnar reached over to the nearest bookshelf and pulled out a dilapidated blue tome from a stack of books in similar condition. He passed it to Tristofer, who was dumbstruck.

  “Apparently they dabbled,” Kasnar told him. “And fortunately for me, this volume was mixed in with one of the loads of books I was given by Rahygren, Bastion’s son.”

  Tristofer was ecstatic. “The Narians practiced jhorun! I knew it!!”

  “You did not,” Kasnar argued. “You just said so yourself. Now, let me continue.”

  “Get to the part where Bastion learns he had found Nar,” Athos told him impatiently. Although he’d deny it if confronted, he had become completely enraptured by Kasnar’s tale.

  Kasnar sighed. “Fine.”

  For those of you that are curious how Bastion learned what he had discovered, it was by accident. For that, let me switch briefly to Bastion’s routine when his g
old ran low.

  Eager to hide his new fortune from prying eyes, Bastion only made the journey to Nar once every couple of months. Once there he’d collect some of the smallest trinkets he could find, which usually meant pieces of jewelry, small weapons, and the like. Whatever he chose to bring back had to be small enough to be concealed on his person as he didn’t want to be stopped in the streets by anyone.

  One day he came back from one of his pillaging trips with his customary load of jewels and artifacts. However, on this trip he had found a set of bejeweled wrist bands, and deciding he wanted to keep them for himself, he chose to wear them back. When he approached his usual contact, an unsavory fellow who stank of rotten fish…

  “How would you possibly know this?” Athos demanded. “You said it yourself. You never left this room.”

  “This was prior to my arrival as a prisoner held in Nar,” Kasnar explained. “Rahygren and Krisken, that would be Rahygren’s wife, have had many heated arguments, many of which I was able to overhear. The two of them were at each other’s throats constantly. At any rate, Bastion had brought this character to his house several times, presumably to make riskier and riskier deals. Apparently this fellow suspected Bastion was holding out on him and wanted a larger and larger cut of the profits in exchange for his silence.”

  “I’m surprised Rahygren agreed to that,” Venk murmured.

  “He didn’t want to,” Kasnar agreed. “He must have ranted and raved like a lunatic, if one was to believe Krisken. As the number of deals increased, their profits decreased, and soon Bastion was berating his son to look for a way to tie up loose ends.”