“After the fall of Gnorepenne, the guild was disbanded and most of their members hunted down and killed as a threat to humanity. That was a time where fear gripped even the most stout-hearted of men. The few members that survived went underground and formed a secret guild that few know about and fewer speak of.”
Kyle looked at the elder in astonishment and stayed silent.
“Or so I’ve been told,” Kalaldi said quickly. “One moment.”
Kalaldi walked to one of the shelves and after looking through several volumes, brought one of the larger ones back to his table, opened it and began reading the handwritten notes to himself. Looking up occasionally and speaking as if to a student, Kalaldi said, “You understand this volume is not all together inclusive of whom the guild accepted employment from, but for a number of years, they worked exclusively for the Brotherhood of the Black Star.” Kalaldi slipped a thin colored cord into the page, marking it, and moved further into the thick book and began to read out loud once again, “And the Guild of the Black Star was a powerful black wizards group, not commissioned by the Guild Order, but operating on the fringes of acceptance. The wizards of Black Star meddled in creating life, summoning death and various shades in between, the undead, the unliving, and unspeakable horrors.”
Kalaldi paused and tapped his forehead with the end of a clenched fist.
“Damn it all, if only I had access to the notes of the library.”
“The library?” Kyle asked.
“The Great Library. Where the mages stored their notes. Detailed notes,” Kalaldi waved his hand, as if the words were smoke, “Anyway.”
Kalaldi sighed and closed the book with a thump. “If you have found the carriage, then the device the guild was commissioned to deliver may still be inside, and it may be something created by the Black Star. We need to go and ensure whatever they were carrying doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“The carriage is gone. The mudslide that released it deposited it on the edge of the Pit and it slipped off the edge,” Kyle said, his voice even.
“The Pit? What the devil is The Pit?” The Elder asked, picking up the button from the table and handing it to Kyle.
“It is a water filled sinkhole. They say it is bottomless, and I have heard stories of people drowning trying to find if that fantasy is true or not.”
Kalaldi clapped his hands together and a smile formed on his lined face. “Why, that is good news. Bury that thing and forget that you ever found it. Better yet, toss it into that Pit of yours and never speak of it again. If the surviving members of the Guild were to find where that carriage and its contents are, you would be in grave danger. They would stop at nothing to recover the powerful magic contained inside that carriage, including killing you, as thoughtlessly as you would squash a bug. Controlling forces of and beyond nature is an intoxicating desire. Many who dabble in it can control their lusts, at the start, but little by little, succumb to the power and go down a darker path. They would pay handsomely for any artifact. Those tortured souls…” Kalaldi paused, his voice trailing off as a memory came to his mind. He leaned forward, and looked at the blank wood of the tabletop, his eyes staring at the wood, but not seeing it. A moment later he returned, startled, and continued in a voice heavy with emotion, “those who travel down that solitary path usually meet their end, destroyed by the very thing that they themselves created.”
Kalaldi’s somber mood suddenly brightened, like a lightning bolt in a midnight rainstorm, and he smiled.
“But, as you say, the danger is passed. The artifact is out of reach of any unlucky fool who should stumble upon it and...”
Kyle removed his gloves and held his palm up where the magic user could see. “I also wanted to find out about this.”
“Do not move.”
The elder’s voice boomed again and he stepped back quickly, out of the reach of the farm boy. Kyle was stunned by the change in tone, but did as he was told. Kalaldi stepped forward and whispered, “Don’t move, don’t move,” over and over again as he moved as close as he dared to Kyle’s hand without touching it. He stepped back, pulled a blank piece of parchment from a flat stack of several sheets on his desk, and uncorked the small vial of black ink next to them with slightly shaky hands. Picking up a writing probe, he began copying the runes and the symbolism of the blue glowing design on Kyle’s palm. When he finished, he re-examined his artwork and then said, “Put your gloves back on, and then tell me what you found.”
Kyle slipped the gloves back on, opened his pack and pulled out the golden medallion. He held the disk in his hand as he recounted the story of how he had found the carriage and climbed inside. He told of the two swords he had found and pulled them from his pack, unwrapped them and placed them on the table. Kyle continued and told about finding the small chest and how after breaking it open, it contained the red velvet bag. Finally he told him about the events that lead to the runes being emblazoned on his hand and the loss of the carriage and the medallion to the depths of The Pit. Kalaldi sat quietly listening and waited until Kyle was finished before asking a couple of questions about details of any identification marks on the carriage itself. He asked when the medallion came back into his possession after he had kicked it into the muddy waters of the sinkhole. Finally Kalaldi asked for the disk itself.
Kyle gingerly held the metal disk in his hand silently wondering how to safely hand it over when Kalaldi reached out and snatched it from his hand. He turned it over, examining it closely and writing a few things down on the piece of parchment on the table.
Kalaldi looked up from his writings at Kyle and then back again. “The medallion is…it’s a vessel for the incantation placed upon it. When you foolishly touched it, the magical energy left it and entered your body. What it is doing, what are the specific characteristics of the spell placed in the medallion is a guess, but we should be able to deduce its function by what we know and these writings along its faces. They are different from what I copied down from the runes on your palm, which is interesting in itself. The medallion has forged a bond with your spiritual as well as your life energy pattern. Why it stays at your side is a simple matter of trans-materialization as any second-year casting apprentice could tell you. The fact that the medallion was able to transfer through a water barrier means that this was created by a very powerful magic user indeed.”
“But why is it safe to touch the medallion and not touch me?” Kyle asked, his head swimming with things that he didn’t completely understand.
Kalaldi sighed. “Have you not been listening to me? Whatever magical properties the medallion once contained are now at your disposal, whatever they may be. I would suggest you keep those gloves on and not touch anyone or anything barehanded, until I have the chance to decipher these runes and find out what caravan may have been the one lost two centuries ago.”
Kyle packed the two swords and the medallion in his pack and when he finished he shouldered the load. Already, Kalaldi was pouring over a new thick book. One of his pages brought him a scroll and blew a thick layer of dust from the case before handing it over.
“I wanted to ask about the swords.” Kyle said, afraid to bother the man intent on the documents before him.
“Hmm…What?” Kalaldi said, looking up absently. “The swords? Oh they’re probably fine. The assassins in the White Rose Guild were wary of magic, as most laymen are, fear of the unknown, I suppose, so they are most likely not enchanted in any way. However, you may want to keep them around in any case. Sometimes a simple slip of the tongue…” Kalaldi stopped and looked at the two pages sorting through a stack of rolled up scrolls, “can begin the clockwork of unforeseen and unintended consequences. Be vigilant, and I will see you here in the morning.”
Kyle stepped out into the daylight and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He looked around. A feeling of paranoia crept over him from the conversation with Kalaldi. He glanced up and down the road, looking for anything that seemed wrong or out of place. The feeling passed and
in its stead, he felt a foolishness at being caught up in the stories that Kalaldi had told. He laughed at himself and started off toward the smoke of the weapon-smith’s building.
* * * *
The dark figure crouched still in the clump of high grass and wooded plants across the lane and within view of the entrance to Kalalid’s tower. He waited, not disturbing the vegetation surrounding him. Thirty minutes later, his patience was rewarded by the sight of the young man who left the stone building and turned toward the bustle of the market area. The description he was given for the young man was close enough, he decided. With a slight nod in affirmation, he slipped back away from the path and traveled northward, blending in to the growing clusters of moving people.
He looked like just another busy traveler in Whiteforge.
* * * *
He wiped his hands behind the leather apron and extended his hand, “Mathas Grinwall, how can I help you?”
Kyle reached out and watched as his hand was completely enveloped in the blacksmith’s handshake. “I was wondering if you purchased used swords. I have a short sword I would like to sell if you’re interested.” Kyle knelt, undid his pack, pulled one of the swords free, and handed it over to the weapon-smith.
When he took it in hand, Mathas released a low whistle, turned the blade and sliced the warm air rising from the red coals.
“This is a very fine weapon, nicely balanced and the hilt is in good shape. How much are you looking to get from this?” Mathas asked while looking down the length of the blade and his wide smile revealed he liked what he saw.
“Well, I’m not an expert on swords or weapons of any kind, so I guess one or two gold pieces?” Kyle said, more question than statement, showing that he was very much out of his element.
Mathas laughed, “I’m not going to pluck you, my young eagle. Come here, let me give you a little bit of education about what you have here.” For the next ten minutes Mathas showed Kyle the different parts of the sword and explained how he could spot quality as well as the common tricks used by some smiths to hide substandard materials or workmanship. He pointed out the scratches on the blade indicating the weapon had been used for fighting and not for show. He also explained how to care for the weapon, and keep corrosion at bay. When he finished, Kyle thanked him over and over again for the information. He was so taken aback by the time and depth of the conversation he almost forgot he was there to sell the weapon until Mathas reminded him of it.
“Tell you what son, a new sword, one that I made myself sells for ten gold. I’ll buy this one from you for seven and I’ll throw in a bottle of oil to protect the one you have in your pack. What do you say?”
“I’d say you have a deal.” Kyle said, extending his hand.
Mathas wrapped the coins in a small piece of cotton cloth and handed it over with the oil. “I would suggest you put the coins in your pocket and the oil in your bag. The wrapping will keep the noise from the coins down. Many a rogue has a finely tuned ear for the clink of a gold or silver coin, and you don’t want to lose your money if your pack gets stolen. Take care my young one and mind what I said.”
* * * *
Kyle peered in the window and found his cottage empty. He pushed the door open slightly and called to his father. With no response, he entered and quickly crossed the dining area and pulled the curtain aside to his sleeping area. He opened his pack, pulled the remaining sword out and slid it beneath his mattress, hiding it from view. He put the pack against the wall in its usual spot and sat down on the edge of his bed. He thought about all that Kalaldi told him while he waited for his father to return home.
Almost an hour later the door creaked open and his father walked in the cottage carrying a small bundle smelling of warm bread. He sat down at the table and smiled when he saw his son.
“Kyle. How are you doing? Come, sit down here and we’ll cut into this loaf of bread and talk. Did you sell the swords like I asked?” Jacob pulled two plates and a knife from a shelf next to the fireplace and cut off slabs of the still warm bread.
“Yes, I sold both swords,” Kyle told his father and pulled the gold coins from his pocket, placing them on the table. Picking up a piece of the bread he bit off a piece and chewed while he watched his father’s expression. Based on the outburst from the night before, he didn’t know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised when his father put his hand on his shoulder.
“Kyle, I know you think we should have kept the swords, but I think you’ll see that it would have been dangerous to keep them around. Take it from someone who lived by the sword in his past, you don’t want to do anything to invite violence into your home. And by selling them we will have enough to support us since we’ve lost everything in the flooded fields. With the bit I got for the silver button and this windfall from the swords, we should be fine until next growing season.” He picked up the coins and tossed them slightly and caught them again. He reached up onto the mantle over the fireplace and pulled down a small wooden box. Opening it he pushed aside a lock of blonde hair and dropped the coins inside.
Internally, Kyle fought the urge to tell his father all about the medallion, the meeting with Kalaldi and the history of the carriage and the possible danger to both of them. The story was incredible and he didn’t think it believable. However, the blue runes on his right palm were a constant reminder that the story was entirely true. In the end he decided to wait until he spoke again to the elder wizard in the tower at Whiteforge before he told his father the details.
The two sat up until the sun dropped below the horizon, talking about the possibilities the gold coins could hold for them. If luck was on their side between now and the next growing season, they could make big improvements. Perhaps something like a new well was in the offing. When the two began to regularly yawn, they finally decided to call it a night and get some sleep. Kyle was torn by the resurgence in the closeness to his father he hadn’t experienced in a long time and the secrets he was keeping to limit the older man’s worrying. He hoped Kalaldi’s advice to be careful amid the danger was a needless precaution.
Chapter Four
The sunlight beaming onto Kyle’s face pulled him awake. The position of the beam told him it was already late morning. He had wanted to get to Whiteforge early and find out what Kalaldi had discovered in his dusty old tomes, and now the morning was almost gone. Kyle grabbed his pack and lifted the necklace from the bedpost. He eyed it again, his mind wrestling with whether he should stop to see his girl and give her the gift when he went into town, or head directly to speak to Kalaldi. He slipped the necklace into his pocket.
As he headed toward the door, Kyle picked up a chunk of bread, left over from the night before and threw it into his pack. He was hungry, but would wait and chew on it as Kalaldi told him what he had uncovered from the sources in his workshop. Hopefully, something would indicate a solution and reveal how he could be cured of the magical power that possessed him.
* * * *
Kyle ran down the path past the weapon-smith’s shop, ignoring all the late morning activity around him as he thought about talking to the wizard and hopefully getting answers to his questions. He stopped in his tracks when the door to the General Goods store opened and Jennifer Little stepped out.
Jennifer turned in Kyle’s direction and the initial look of surprise was immediately replaced by a wide smile beaming from her face. She broke into a run in his direction and then threw her arms around him, pulled him close and gently kissed him.
When their kiss ended, Kyle stepped back and took her in with his eyes.
“You look great,” he said, his eyes traveling over her slim frame and flowery dress. Her brown hair was pulled back, secured by a comb made of white bone.
“Do you like this? It’s new.” She turned around slowly, her arms out, parallel to the ground.
Kyle was watching his girl show off her dress for him, but he couldn’t concentrate. Speculation as to what Kalaldi may reveal to him was overriding the display his girl
was putting on for him.
“It’s…it’s beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, of course,” Kyle said, recovering.
“And look at these!” Jennifer showed Kyle a bouquet of colorful wildflowers she’d been holding in her hand the whole time. The colors and shapes of the flowers were varied and arranged perfectly. Jennifer held them up to her face and took a deep breath of the fragrance.
“Grew these in my window box. They managed to survive the heavy rains, that destroyed all the...Kyle, I…I heard about the farmlands.” The smile drained from her face and she stood looking at Kyle’s sour expression.
“Yeah. It’s bad, but we’ll make it through. It’s a long story.” Kyle looked up the road for a second, “Listen, I need to speak to someone. He’s waiting for me. Can we talk later?”
Jennifer poked her bottom lip out and held it there for a second, and then broke into laughter. “Of course we can talk later. I’ll be stocking shelves in the store. When you get done, stop in.”
“I will. And you get those flowers into some water. See you soon.”
With a quick kiss goodbye, Kyle was off again in a run past the grove of trees and finally stopped when he arrived at the tower, his chest heaving as he took in deep breaths of early morning air. Kyle leaned against the door and stumbled when the door offered little resistance and swung open revealing a dark interior. He looked back and forth down the road, found it empty in both directions and stepped inside.
* * * *
A dark figure, hidden by the same brush as the day before, watched the girl in the flowered dress from across the lane. He motioned to a small stand of trees deeper in the wooded area and with a soft rustle, was joined by his partner moments later. He wasted few words as they both knew what needed to be done, and with a nod, the second man moved in the direction of the merchant shop.
Reaching into a leather pouch at his waist, the first man pulled out a glass orb that glowed with a pale yellow light as he stroked it. He listened closely to his instructions, murmured his reply in the affirmative and the orb went dark once again. He replaced it in the pouch, fastening it closed. Next, he reached into a hidden pocket in his cloak and pulled out a silver talisman. Holding it tightly he recited the words rote by years of use. Seconds later a small puff of black smoke began to swirl in a grassy clearing nearby. Gradually, the smoke gained in size and density, collecting as it did into a lengthy winged serpent. The smoke continued to flow into this shape, increasing its detail until after almost a minute, the shape of the flying mount was complete. Climbing onto the back of the creature, the dark figure checked that his weapons were at his side. Reaching into the smoke at his thigh, he pulled his hand back clutching a thin tendril of black mist that reached to the front of the mount. Moving his hands to one side, the mount’s head was pulled by the barely visible harness. With a screech as the assassin kicked the mount in the sides, the Shadowrider took to the sky over Whiteforge, heading toward a small flooded farm and someone with knowledge of a silver button and possibly much more.
Medallion of the Undead Page 4
