by A. Giannetti
The nightmarish nature of the attack so disconcerted Elerian that he was unable to mount a defense. For one horrifying moment, he actually felt his shade being drawn out of his body. Galvanized into action, Elerian shook off his paralysis and fought back. He imagined his shade holding fast to his body with golden fingers. The sensation of being ripped from his body ended, but for an endless time, the outcome of the struggle remained in doubt, Elerian’s shade remaining half in and half out of his body as he fought desperately to resist the tugging of the flickering red shade that gibbered and screamed in his mind.
Gradually, Drusus’ shade appeared to weaken. Elerian found it easier to resist its furious assault. Eventually, it began to fade, becoming a dim, transparent shape that grasped at him with insubstantial fingers. A last despairing scream echoed in Elerian’s mind as it vanished, and with a sense of immeasurable relief, he settled back into his own body.
The eerie struggle left Elerian more shaken than the actual physical battle that had preceded it, for he had no explanation for the apparition that had attacked him. A shiver passed down his spine. If his mage sight had not warned him of the wraith’s impending attack, he would most likely have been overcome. When he was able to stand again, common sense urged Elerian to leave the underground dwelling at once, but as his strength returned so did his curiosity. “There are too many unanswered questions in this room for me to leave it without attempting to answer some of them,” he thought to himself. “First, however, I will deal with this light that the venetor left behind.”
The mage light’s bloody hue reminded Elerian too much of the shade he had just fought, and it lent an unpleasant look to the room that unsettled him. Extinguishing it, he lit his own light. Its cheerful yellow rays immediately brightened his spirits. Turning his attention to the painful slashes in his leg and the claw marks on his shoulders and chest, all of which were still bleeding freely, he used a healing spell to close all the wounds. Again, he paused to rest. He felt unusually weary, attributing it to the enchanted spear and all the strength it had drained from him.
When some of his fatigue had passed, curiosity led Elerian to examine the weapon that had saved him. When he pulled the broken shaft from the body of Drusus, he was disappointed to see that the graceful, leaf shaped spearhead was now a blackened, smoking ruin, eaten away by the venetor’s hot, corrosive blood. The silver lines inlaid in the steel were gone as well. Whatever magic the spear had possessed had also vanished, for it remained dead and lifeless in Elerian’s hand.
“Did it belong to the people killed by Drusus?” wondered Elerian. “He appeared to recognize it when I first picked it up.” Casting aside the broken shaft, Elerian retrieved his knives only to find that both their blades were darkened and half melted away “What sort of blood coursed through the creature’s veins, that it was able to melt cold steel?” he wondered to himself as he dropped the useless hilts of the knives onto the floor. Elerian turned to the lifeless body of the venetor. Drusus, he had named himself, a human name.
“Does some other form lie beneath the shape of the beast he died in?” wondered Elerian. Even though Drusus was dead, Elerian knew that his body must still yearn to return to its native form. Casting a shape-changing spell on the body, Elerian watched with his third eye as a small, golden orb flew from his right hand and enveloped the sleek black furred form of the venetor. Beneath a cloak of golden light, the spell sought within the still form for the memories of its native shape that were still contained there. The beast form wavered and changed, rearranging itself into the naked shape of an ancient, withered old man with proud, stern features that reminded Elerian at once of Urbanus. His long hair and beard were white as snow, but his open, staring eyes were black as agates. Even in death, they still projected such an aura of intense hate that Elerian started back a step. In his mind, he heard again the words of the curse Drusus had uttered and a shiver passed up and down his spine. Curses, especially from someone with mage powers, were not to be taken lightly.
Putting aside his misgivings, Elerian examined the body before him. “Did he wear the form of a beast willingly, or was it thrust upon him?” wondered Elerian to himself. “What was the reward he sought, and who were the people he killed. Did he really recognize me or did he mistake me for someone else?”
The last question bothered Elerian especially. It was maddening to think he might have slain the one person who could have told him who he really was. Remembering the shade that had leaped out to attack him, Elerian was reluctant to touch the old man’s body, but finally, he picked it up, taking care to avoid the dark blood that stained it. It did not seem right to him to leave it there, unburied. He found it light, almost insubstantial, as if all its substance had been consumed, leaving behind only a frail shell.
Leaving his mage light behind, Elerian carried the body of Drusus out into the forest. There, he used a spell to carry away enough soil to create a shallow trench at the base of a large gray boulder that thrust up out of the ground, almost like a headstone. After laying the body in the hole, Elerian transferred the dirt back to the trench, closing it up.
“This Drusus must have been a most potent and evil mage,” thought Elerian to himself, as he scattered dried leaves over the grave. “He must have been well known in Ancharia. Perhaps Tullius can tell me more about him when I return home.”
Elerian returned to the main room of the underground dwelling. His mage light still hung suspended in the center of the room, showing him that he was in a chamber that was roughly circular and about eight feet high. Floor, walls, and ceiling were all made of gleaming stone that reflected the rays of the mage light, even beneath the coating of filth that covered them. To the right of the entry door was a large fireplace that seemed formed from the stone of the walls, for Elerian could find no joint between the facing and the walls. The facing itself was shaped in the form of two smooth columns, carved to look like the boles of trees. Their twisting, linked branches formed the mantelpiece. A polished stone step extended out into the room from the base of the fireplace.
“Drusus may have used this place as a lair, but I do not think he had any part in building it,” thought Elerian to himself. “The craft and beauty displayed here would have been alien to his cruel and evil nature.”
The room around Elerian had held furniture and other items at one time, but everything was destroyed, as if some great struggle or battle had taken place in the room. Mixed in with the household debris, Elerian found broken weapons and old armor, but to his disappointment, he found no more weapons like the spear he had used to slay Drusus. Some of the armor still contained long, slender bones, and beneath tarnished helms, Elerian saw fine boned skulls with grinning fangs that were of a kind he had never seen before. There were other bones scattered about too. Some were human and some were animal, but all showed evidence of being gnawed upon by sharp teeth.
“The human and animal bones are the remains of Drusus’ past meals,” thought Elerian to himself. “The bones in the armor most likely belonged to Goblins. What did they seek here, I wonder?”
Against one wall of the room, Elerian found a nest of dried leaves such as any wild beast might make for itself. “This rude pile of leaves was Drusus’ bed,” he thought to himself. “Even though he was a man with a man’s thoughts, he lived like a beast, trapped, I think, by some enchantment, for he referred to his form as hateful to him.” Remembering his own early experiences as a shape changer, Elerian shuddered at the thought of being trapped in an alien body, locked in unending combat with a savage mind that would constantly seek control of that body to fulfill its own bloody desires.
Turning his thoughts away from the unfortunate Drusus, Elerian continued his explorations. To the left of the fireplace, he discovered a wide hallway that led away from the main chamber. When Elerian explored it, he found rooms on either side of it that had the look of bedchambers. Beyond the sleeping quarters, in the right hand wall, Elerian found the entrance to a large bathroom where a constant stream
of cold, clear water issued from an elaborate fish head carved out of one wall, flowing into a carved shallow basin of stone before draining away into some hidden recess below ground. A large stone tub, wonderfully carved, occupied one side of the room. Elerian took time to wash away the blood and grime from his battle with Drusus before continuing his explorations.
After leaving the bathroom, Elerian continued to follow the passageway, which ended at a set of stone steps. The walls of the stairwell were of polished stone. At the top of the steps were a stone landing and a doorway. The rotted remnants of an oak door still hung from the doorframe on heavy, ornate hinges, badly rusted from exposure to the weather.
Elerian walked through the ruined doorway to emerge outside. It was still night, but the bright stars overhead gave him more than enough light to see by. A good distance behind him was the oak through which he had entered the underground dwelling. Before him, a wide, flat space at least sixty feet across had been delved into the side of a steep hill, leaving a vertical wall three quarters of the way around the space. Midway around the wall, ledges of various sizes had been cut out of the stone. A small stream cascaded over them, falling thirty feet in a series of waterfalls that splashed into a small pond at the foot of the wall. Water flowed from the pool through a narrow channel and disappeared under a small arch in a low fence of fieldstones, which closed off the remaining side of the space. Leading from the doorway to the pool was a path made of gray flagstones, partially obscured by the long, unkempt grass growing between their joints. Low stone pedestals, finely carved, had lined the path at one time, but they had all been pushed over or shattered. What looked like the beds of an old garden lay on either side of the path, but they were grown over with a tangle of weeds. An air of emptiness and neglect hung over the clearing like a gray sheet.
Elerian walked down the path to the side of the pool. Next to it were a stone table and two benches, all broken into pieces. To the left of the table, a stone bowl lay on the ground. The shattered remains of the graceful column that had supported it lay next to it. Elerian walked from the pool to the boundary fence, climbing over the low wall when he reached it. Before him, he saw only the side of the hill and the ancient trees that covered it. Turning around to climb back over the wall, he found, to his surprise, that there was no sign of the garden or the wall. He saw only trees and the untouched side of the hill as it must have existed in the past before the garden was made. Opening his third eye, Elerian saw a shimmering green curtain, rising up like a wall before him.
“It resembles the spell which guarded the ravine where I saw the water nymph,” thought Elerian to himself. He walked slowly toward the barrier and bumped into the wall that separated the garden from the forest. When he climbed over the hidden wall, the garden was visible once more. “This place was meant to remain hidden from ordinary eyes,” thought Elerian to himself as he took a last look around. “The people who built it possessed powerful magic, but it was still not enough to protect them from the Goblins.” It was a sobering thought, for the Goblins were Elerian’s enemies too.
Having found nothing that would give him any clues to the history of the dwelling or the garden, Elerian returned to the underground home, walking through it until he reached the place where the front door had been. Elerian tried an opening spell, watching curiously as the smooth wood before him became fluid and flowed away to create the arched opening once more. Elerian stepped through it, and a moment later, it snapped shut behind him. The oak was now indistinguishable from the trees around it. Elerian extinguished his mage light, and after fixing the guardian oak and its surroundings firmly in his mind, in case he ever wanted to return, walked wearily away. Climbing up the side of a towering chestnut tree, he entered the forest canopy and headed south along the upper pathways of the forest toward home. The venetor was dead, but he took little satisfaction from that, for his mind was full of unanswered questions, and Drusus’ curse hung over him like a dark cloud.
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS
After leaving Drusus’ lair, Elerian traveled at a steady pace through the forest canopy of the Abercius. Paying no heed to ground far below him, he walked lightly down the lengths of enormous, twisting branches, as secure and unconcerned in his steps as any townsman traveling over the sidewalks of his village. The miles and the hours unfolded beneath his tireless stride, for he stopped only to recover his bow and quiver of arrows, but even so, the sun had risen and made its great arc across the sky, before he approached the base of the hill where he lived with Balbus. Although the sun was already sinking below the peaks of the Galerius, Elerian abruptly turned aside from his path toward home and instead, made for Tullius’s clearing, which was not far away. “If he is already abed, then he will have to forgive me for rousing him,” thought Elerian to himself. “I would like to talk to him tonight, if possible.”
It was full dark when Elerian arrived at the circle of rowan trees that guarded Tullius’s clearing. After letting himself through the gate, he soundlessly crossed the overgrown grass that covered Tullius’s front yard and knocked on the mage’s door. Soon, he heard the shuffling of feet, and a moment later, a sleepy voice asked suspiciously, “Who knocks on my door at this late hour?”
“It is Elerian, Tullius. I am sorry to wake you, but I have something important to discuss with you.”
The door opened on creaking hinges, revealing Tullius dressed in a nightshirt and sleeping cap. His staff was held tightly in his right hand, ready to cast a spell if necessary. A small mage light hovered above his gray head, illuminating Elerian as he stood on the doorstep.
“Put down your staff,” said Elerian with a smile. “I am not some enemy in disguise.”
“Come inside then,” grumbled Tullius, lowering his staff. “Short of announcing a Goblin invasion, I cannot understand why you could not wait until morning to talk to me.”
“I did not come to talk about Goblins, but I think you will find what I have to say interesting just the same,” said Elerian. Closing the door, he followed Tullius over to the worn table in the center of the room. When he sat in a battered chair, Elerian was suddenly overcome by weariness. He had not slept or eaten now for a night and a day, and the weight of his labors settled heavily on his shoulders.
“You look terrible,” said Tullius bluntly, as he added wood to his fireplace. Before long, he had coaxed bright flames from the coals buried in the ashes, and waves of warmth and light spread through the room. Without a word, Tullius set out fruit, bread, cheese, and dried sausage. After pouring Elerian a cup of wine, the mage sat silently in the other chair drawn up to the table and watched Elerian eat.
After he had taken the edge of his hunger, Elerian carried his half-finished cup of wine and his chair from the table over to the fireplace. He soaked in the heat of the fire, enjoying the warmth, while Tullius dragged over his own chair. The leaping flames illuminated the mage’s dark eyes and the curiosity that burned in their depths.
“Well then, what brings you to my door at this hour besides a desire to eat and drink me out of house and home?” asked Tullius sharply.
Elerian paid no mind to Tullius’s hard words, for he knew they masked a concern the irascible old mage would never admit to. “I was actually returning home,” said Elerian, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs comfortably to the fire, “but I passed so near to your place that I decided to stop here first. I have questions which I hope you can answer.” Elerian fell silent, casting a sly glance at Tullius’s face out of the corner of his eyes. A bright gleam in Elerian’s warm brown eyes betrayed his enjoyment of the situation, for this was a perfect opportunity to test Tullius’s small store of patience.
“Where were you returning from in the middle of the night?” snapped Tullius impatiently, as Elerian deliberately took a sip of his wine. Tullius knew Elerian was baiting him, for he was all too familiar with Elerian’s sly humor, but his curiosity and hasty nature still got the best of him. His stiff white beard began to quiver, a sure sign of his
growing impatience.
When he was certain that Tullius was just about ready to explode, Elerian spoke up, forestalling the mage’s angry outburst. “I had an adventure last night that was both strange and perplexing,” he said mysteriously. “Since you are the wisest mage of my acquaintance, I thought you might be able to explain some of the things I observed.”
Tullius’s eyes narrowed under their bristling white brows. “Save your wit for those who appreciate it,” he said crossly. “Tell me plainly what you saw or leave and let me go back to bed; it is all the same to me.”
“Perhaps I should have another glass of wine before I begin,” said Elerian innocently. “Talking is dry work.”
“Start your story,” said Tullius, “then I will judge if you deserve another glass of my good wine.”
“Very well then,” said Elerian, laughing softly and turning serious at last. “Judge away then. Yesterday, Dioges told Balbus and me that one of his lambs had disappeared. He was certain the venetor had taken it. I decided at once to follow the creature’s trail.”
“Once a fool, always a fool,” said Tullius angrily. “I warned you to stay away from that creature. I am surprised Balbus agreed to this madness.”
Elerian ignored Tullius’s outburst. He knew Tullius’s harsh words were his way of masking his concern. “Balbus was against my going,” admitted Elerian, “but I was determined to hunt the creature down. I found the venetor’s trail, and eventually, it led me into the Abercius. I finally overtook the creature, and we fought, inconclusively. I managed to lightly wound it, but it broke away from me and fled into the forest. Determined to end its reign of terror, I pursued it.”
