Jan stopped at the exit to the tunnel, leaning against the smooth stone of Terror’s Lament as he thought. “They said that the king left somewhere around Cobblestreet. That pathetic village is quite a long ways from Castle Talon, one of the southernmost settlements along the river. What could he be looking for? Where is the rest of the caravan?”
Darius fiddled with the hilt of his sword, pondering the situation. After a moment, he simply threw his hands up in the air, defeated. “None of this makes sense,” he said, exasperated. “Why have some of the merchants left the caravan, but others have not returned? I truly believe that those men I saw you torture hid nothing. They honestly have no more answers than we do…” Darius’ voice trailed off as he shook his head.
“Thank you, good captain of the guard. I take pride in my work. No one hides their secrets from me. No one.” Jan took off the heavy leather apron he was wearing and hung it on a wooden peg just inside the iron door to the dungeon. It took him a few moments to produce the proper key from a deep pocket on his royal finery and lock the door. The two men took a few steps away from the wall before turning. Jan spoke a simple arcane command word and the door vanished into the wall so thoroughly that it was as if the portal never existed.
“I will never understand how you do that, Jan.” For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Darius shook his head in disbelief. Jan simply nodded to the captain, folding his hands behind his back and assuming his regal posture before departing for the castle. The guard captain continued out from the wall in the direction of the artificer’s guild, hoping to find some answers through less violent means.
The artificer’s guild hall was an interesting structure. When Talonrend was first settled hundreds of years ago by the refugees from the Green City, the building was a small palace. The residence had two turrets flanking the ornate wooden door with leering stone gargoyles keeping watch from above. The guild hall ran east to west within the city, each end marked by a formidable round tower molded to the shape of an eagle’s grasping talons. No one has ever been quite sure how the artificer’s guild came to possess the palace, but it had been their home since before the birth of King Lucius’ parents.
Darius approached the guild hall quickly; he never enjoyed his meetings with the arrogant artificers and he wanted the whole affair to be concluded quickly. As was normal with every visit to the strange guild hall, the door opened before Darius was in range to knock.
“Hello again, good captain Darius,” the porter said in a mellow voice, beckoning to Darius with one hand as he held the door ajar. “So good it is to see you today. Shall I inform my master of your arrival?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Darius muttered as he strode into the ornately decorated foyer. In the blink of an eye, the master of the artificer’s guild stood in the foyer as well, right in front of the startled captain, a tiny wisp of smoke dancing to the ceiling.
“Please,” Darius said with a start, “Lady Keturah, your sudden arrivals only serve to frighten me. Perhaps you could…” Darius tried to clear his head and recover from the frightening appearance of the guild master he so despised dealing with. “Knock… or something… before you just show up like that…” Truly at a loss for words, Darius simply took a step back from the imposing woman and produced a small leather sack full of coins from his belt.
“What exactly would you like me to knock upon, guard captain Darius?” Keturah’s voice had a melodic quality to it that sounded almost incorporeal, like a beautiful ghost was whispering her words just after she spoke them. “Your head, perhaps?” Keturah lifted a slender, gloved hand into the air, making a knocking motion a foot from Darius’ forehead. The guard captain felt the magical hand tapping on his head as surely as he felt the wooden floor beneath his boots.
With a flick of his wrist, Darius tossed the sack of coins to the intoxicatingly beautiful woman. Keturah was dressed in a flowing silk dress the deep color of blood with a black corset laced up her chest. Her long, curly red tresses matched the color of her raiment perfectly, almost blending into the soft fabric itself. Keturah’s hair bounced playfully as she reached up and caught the flying coins, allowing Darius to catch a few glimpses of the woman’s striking green eyes. She was unerringly attractive, her pale, lithe arms ending in black leather gloves covered in runes.
Keturah snatched the money out of the air and looked at it intensely, weighing the contents in her mind. She smiled, sending a wave a relief through the nervous captain. With a snap of her fingers, the gold vanished. “So, you are serious this time. You brought enough gold to convince me that either you have actually spotted a dragon or this meeting is about something else altogether.” Darius lost himself in the thin, ghostly echo of Keturah’s words, barely understanding them as the woman spoke.
“I need you to find the king,” Darius stammered, never taking his eyes from the lovely mouth of the guild master.
“An interesting proposition. Just where do you think our precious Lucius has run off to?” The woman smiled as she spoke, her thin red lips nearly hypnotizing the enamored captain. “Surely you do not expect to find him here, yes?” Darius didn’t miss the subtle glance of Keturah’s eyes to an ornate door on the side of the room. Still, the man’s increased heart rate betrayed him, turning his face red. “Follow me,” Keturah whispered, echoed by her high-pitched ethereal counterpart. She reached out, taking the rough hand of the guard captain in her delicate, gloved grasp.
Keturah led Darius deeper into the guild hall, heading East, through corridors lined with statues and portraits of famous, and sometimes infamous, artificers. Darius was barely able to take the sights in, having never been beyond the foyer of the grand building. Keturah moved quickly, guiding him by the hand through the various twist and turns of the mansion. Finally, they arrived in front of a solid stone wall, the base of the eastern round tower.
With a gentle shove, Keturah pushed the man away from the stone and squared her shoulders to it. “Get behind me,” she said, using a tone that brokered no alternative. Darius nervously toyed with the hilt of his short sword, honestly wondering if he was about to die. The woman, and the guild she represented, terrified him. Darius had never been blessed with any powers beyond the martial, divine or arcane. Magic and magic wielders, especially beautiful ones, held a distinct advantage over the anxious man.
Keturah spoke her name to the wall forcefully, projecting her voice much louder than Darius thought possible given her slender frame. Something about her astral echo changed when she spoke to the stones. The ghastly quality hidden underneath the woman’s melodious voice grew in volume and speed, pronouncing Keturah’s name even before her natural voice did.
The stones of the tower’s base shifted ever so slightly, quivering with energy, before erupting into flame. The gout of liquid inferno washed over Keturah, blinding Darius momentarily as he ducked down behind her. Lines of fire continued down the hallway behind the pair, congealing onto the floor in a pool of sublimated flame.
Darius could feel the intense blast of heat licking at the edges of his body. He quickly retracted his arms in to his chest, curling up as tightly as he could against the dizzying onslaught. Much to his disbelief, his skin was not burned. With Keturah in front of him, Darius was able to endure the fire without any serious injury.
As quickly as the geyser had erupted, the hallway calmed. Everything looked just as it had a moment before, without a burn or char to be seen anywhere. Keturah turned and lifted the man from his crouch, brushing his shoulders off and smilingly sweetly. “See, I told you to stay behind me.” Her voice had returned to normal; well, as normal as her voice ever was. The woman was unscathed by the maelstrom of fire, looking perhaps even more radiant than before.
The two continued up a dark, unlit staircase winding tightly around itself as it ascended. Keturah took the pitch black steps two at a time, her footfalls placed perfectly on the stone. After several full rotations, they arrived at the top of the tower, its stone walls set with intricate s
tained glass. There was a bronze telescope on a tripod standing in the center of the room, facing east.
“Based on everything I have already seen in this place, I’m betting that telescope is no ordinary device.” Darius took a hesitant step forward, approaching the telescope with a measure of reverence.
“That would be correct,” Keturah said, moving swiftly to position herself behind the fine bronze instrument. “Now, where should we begin our search?” The graceful woman swiveled the telescope back and forth, aiming it at the stained glass windows, one after another. Darius then realized that she wasn’t looking through the scenes painted on the glass, she was looking into them.
“We have learned that the king left the merchant caravan he was travelling with around the town of Cobblestreet. You might try starting there.” Keturah turned the bronze telescope to a window depicting the small village of Cobblestreet and watched for a long moment. Darius watched the woman with anticipation, hoping she would be able to locate the missing king with ease.
“Well,” she said, standing up and returning her gaze to the captain, “he is not in Cobblestreet. Most of the merchants are still there, camped outside of the village, milling about and doing nothing. The king’s royal banners and his large tent are clearly visible, but peering inside the tent reveals nothing.”
“What about my men stationed to guard the king? Is there any sign of the twenty armed soldiers that served as Lucius’ escort?” The captain’s mind raced with possibilities. He had learned of the king’s departure from the caravan already and with the amount of money he had paid the guild master, Darius expected more information.
Keturah leaned over the telescope again, further examining the area surrounding the small riverfront village. “I see a few armed men, nothing the level of a royal escort though.” The woman turned the telescope just slightly, aiming it at the very edges of the stained glass window. “There are tracks in the mud from horses, leaving out to the south of the encampment,” she said, shaking her head. “I do not have the range to follow them. The windows are only so big.”
“Continue to search. I want to know every single thing about the town. There must be other clues around the village.” Darius was impatiently pacing the small tower room, his right hand fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.
Keturah continued to scan the telescope over the window, inspecting every street in the muddy village. Darius was quick to notice the sudden quickening in the woman’s breathing as the telescope aimed at the far edge of the town, opposite the camp.
“What is it?” he asked in a frantic voice, “have you found something?” Darius moved behind the woman, hoping to look through the scope and see the king, alive and well.
Keturah shook her head, continuing to look through the instrument as she spoke. “This is certainly interesting. It appears as though the little town of Cobblestreet has some uninvited guests.” She moved the scope even further to the edge of window, straining her vision to its magical limits.
“I can’t quite make out what is happening, but on the other side of the river…” Keturah stopped her scan, rubbing her eyes before returning to the telescope. “Yes, there are two goblins camped out on the fringes of the town in a small clearing. Right next to the Cobblestreet graveyard, it seems this pair of armed goblins is spying on the city. Certainly is unusual behavior for such an unintelligent race.” Keturah stood up, letting Darius view the bizarre scene for himself.
The image was cut off at the edge, not showing the entire clearing, but Darius could easily see two small goblins sitting down on the grass. “Why would there only be two of the wretched vermin?” Darius muttered to himself, trying to look beyond the small clearing to see the rest of the area. Something at the edge of his vision caught the guard captain’s attentive gaze.
“Did you see the boots at the very edge of the view?” he asked, looking back to Keturah. The expression on her confused face told Darius that she had not.
Keturah shoved the man aside, peering back into the stained glass. “Those aren’t goblin boots. As far as I know, goblins don’t even wear boots. Those feet belong to a humanoid, either a man or an elf, perhaps a cleric of some sort, judging by the hem of the robe. That is all I can see. The stained glass images don’t extend far enough.”
“What do we do?” Darius asked, fearing that a goblin raiding party was waiting just beyond their vision.
“We send a scout. That is what we do.” Keturah’s voice, amplified by the ethereal echo behind it, was commanding. “I trust that you have already sent an expedition to find the dear king? They must be warned.”
“Yes,” Darius agreed. “Our fastest scouts will be dispatched to warn the town.”
“I have someone faster,” Keturah said with a sly grin. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth, whispering arcane words of evocation into them. When she revealed her hands again, a large black scorpion sat upon her fingers, clicking its massive claws together. Keturah set the creature down upon the stone of the tower and breathed on its back, a thick cloud of billowing smoke escaping her mouth and enveloping the scorpion.
“Taurnil,” Keturah whispered to the swirling wisps with her ghostly, disembodied voice. “Taurnil, arise, my champion, awaken from the abyss.” Keturah and Darius both took a step back, giving the scorpion as much room as possible in the small chamber at the top of the guild hall’s eastern tower.
The smoke swirled about the black scorpion faster and faster, the insect’s body beginning to pop and crack with the magic of transformation. Obsidian flakes of the scorpion’s exoskeleton fell to the floor and dissolved as a humanoid shape grew within the smoke. Taurnil stood five and half feet tall, his sinewy flesh pulled taut over thick lengths of corded muscle. His body was completely devoid of hair, his skin the color of pale ash mixed with acrid snow. The room smelled strongly of sulfur, the pungent odor stinging Darius’ nostrils.
The demon, or whatever Taurnil truly was, grinned, showing his jagged teeth stained brown and red from years of eating flesh. The beast’s face was flat, with a wide nose so stretched over the underlying bone that it appeared as two gaping holes in the center of its head. His eyes were dramatic enough to send Darius running from the room, had Keturah’s command over the creature not been so apparent. The monstrous being craned its neck about the room, its eyes showing nothing but the deepest black. The room reflected blurry off of the crystalline eyes, giving a haunting, soulless aura to the foul humanoid.
Keturah moved to the creature’s side, placing an arm gently on its boney shoulder in a loving manner. “Taurnil, my dearest champion, go now. Fly to the settlement of Cobblestreet, southeast of this place, along the Clawflow River. Go there, warn the king’s soldiers of goblin activity in the region. Then go across the river, near the human graveyard, and kill every goblin you can find.” Taurnil smiled devilishly at his last command.
“I do as you command.” The creature’s voice was more a hiss than recognizable speech. Taurnil bowed his head in obedience to his master. Keturah pushed up a small section of the stone, causing the wall to swing open and revealing a sizeable door in the tower between two of the stained glass windows. “I shall return once I have gorged upon the souls of goblins,” the beast hissed, turning for the door.
Taurnil’s back shifted and churned, the taut flesh splitting on either side of the demon’s distinct vertebrae. Two massive wings unfolded themselves from beneath the flesh, hooked spikes of bone accenting the bottom of each leathery appendage. Taurnil spread the wings wide, filling the small chamber, flexing with raw power. The thin wings were translucent, bulging veins showing clearly throughout. The wings were torn in places, small holes letting the sunlight of the morning shine through them.
“A powerful and winged lich died near Talonrend once,” Keturah explained, recognizing the shocked expression on Darius’ face. “Of course, I couldn’t just let the wings go to waste. Taurnil here was most appreciative.” Turning back to her champion, Keturah bade him to leave with a calm wav
e of her gloved hand.
“I have seen too much for a man my age,” Darius muttered to himself. Keturah simply laughed, watching her demonic companion fly out of the tower.
***
“WHY HASN’T HE woken up yet, Vorst? I thought he would be awake by now…” Gravlox was nervous. Even though the man’s chest still rose and fell with steady, rhythmic breathing, Gravlox feared for the man’s life.
“It has been a full night. I figured that he would wake up with dawn, most humans do anyway.” Vorst sounded inquisitive rather than nervous like her companion. “Go to the river and get some water. Maybe if we splash it on him, he will realize that I didn’t kill him. Humans are so stupid.”
A few moments later the man was coughing up a runny mixture of river water and blood, frightfully looking about the clearing at his captors. The man was almost six feet tall, greatly dwarfing the goblins that held him hostage. He continued to cough, struggling against the ropes that bound his body.
“Wha—? Goblins!” the man shouted when his eyes fell upon the image of Vorst holding her bow. It was clear from the sneer in the man’s voice that his initial surprise was replaced with disgust.
“Yes, goblins,” Vorst responded in a halting version of the human tongue. “Just goblins,” she said calmly. Vorst lowered her bow slightly and sounded out the word ‘necromancer’ in the man’s direction.
Gravlox nearly fell over dead from shock at hearing Vorst’s beautiful voice speak the human language. His mind started to ask her how she came to speak their language, but his mouth would not move. Gravlox sat slack-jawed on the grass, dumbfounded.
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