The knight and the warrior drew their swords and readied their shields before making their way cautiously into the room with the bard following only steps behind.
“Where to first, Sir Darian?” the captain asked.
“I think up,” the knight replied.
“I agree,” the warrior nodded. “Follow me.”
Tealor carefully and quietly crossed the floor before shooting a glance at the open door. Kilren and Erana stood just outside; their weapons at the ready. The warrior gave them a quick nod before turning to begin his ascent. The first floor above the ground contained a number of open rooms without doors. These chambers included what appeared to be a kitchen and a dining room. The others were, at one time at least, larders and other storage rooms.
Having come to the conclusion that the first floor was both empty and safe, the trio continued up the stairs. The next level was also divided into a number of rooms. The first they entered had clearly been some kind of study. Papers, which had once likely been piled on the large desk in the center of the chamber, littered the floor.
“Hmmm,” Ian said, staring at one of the rather ancient documents he had lifted from the floor. “Some kind of magic-user certainly used to live here. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a wizard.”
“What makes you say that?” Darian asked.
“Instinct,” the bard chuckled. “I can't really be sure. It's just that there seems to be a certain methodology about these notes. Usually, sorcerers aren't nearly as organized. Of course, that's just been my experience. You certainly can't count on it.”
“What does it say?”
“I'm not sure,” the dwarf answered. “Sarena can probably make more of it than I can. Still, I can read some of it. One moment, lad.”
Having said this, he picked up a few more of the frail papers and carefully spread them out on the desk in front of him.
“Aye...” he said as he scanned the writings, “I think this is who we're looking for. At least, whoever made these notes was working on a way to create permanent wards using tattoos. I believe that's what these are talking about anyway. We should gather them all up. Sarena certainly needs to take a look at them.”
The companions quickly and carefully collected the remaining papers before placing them in the far corner. This detail attended to, they continued their search. The next room they encountered had a very solid wooden door blocking its entrance. Once again, the dwarf carefully studied the door while chanting in a sing-song voice. He then tried the handle; it was open.
The room was obviously the bed chamber of the tower's owner. A serviceable, but otherwise unremarkable bed sat against one of the walls with a large, open, and empty chest at its foot. The room also contained other articles of furniture that were equally uninteresting. After a brief, but thorough investigation, the trio moved on.
After searching through a number of other essentially empty rooms, they finally stumbled upon something of interest. It was a chamber that still contained the vials, bottles, and beakers used in alchemy. All the tools that now occupied the chamber were damaged in one way or another and most of them were piled in a single corner. However, it was obvious that the room had previously been used by an alchemist to distill potions or other liquids of a magical nature.
“And, here's more evidence,” Ian said as he paced slowly around the room.
“What do you mean?” the young knight asked.
“I mean that, in order to make those tattoo wards, a wizard would need to use very special ink,” Ian replied. “This equipment would allow someone who had the knowledge to do just that.”
“I agree,” Tealor nodded. “I think we've certainly found a place our enemy made use of at some point in the past. I also have to admit that it seems that whoever it was may have lived here for some time. I just wonder where they are now.”
“As do I,” the bard nodded. “Let's move on. We may find something else that will point us in a definite direction.”
The three companions finished their search of the second floor and then continued up the stairs. The next level, which was the last before the roof, had served as a large library at one time. The chamber was filled from floor to ceiling with bookshelves that were now empty. The bard carefully searched the room and managed to find several discarded and damaged volumes.
“This is rather interesting,” the bard observed while glancing through one of the books he had discovered. “It's not so much the contents of these tomes as it is the languages they're written in. Two of them come from lands far to the south and another seems to come from the distant east. Even this incomplete and damaged collection is probably worth a great deal.”
“That is interesting,” the warrior agreed. “It seems to me that Galrin might have just such a collection.”
“He might,” Ian ceded. “He's certainly traveled a great deal in his time. He's studied the arcane arts from one end of Areon to the other. Still, that's hardly definitive proof.”
“I agree,” Tealor nodded. “But, it is more proof, nonetheless.”
After quickly checking to make sure the roof was free from foes, the group made their way back to the ground floor.
“How's it going?” Kilren asked the moment they stepped back into view.
“So far, so good,” Ian replied. “Now we just have to check down below. For that, we're going to need light. Go grab us a couple of torches, would you, lad?”
“Sure,” the rogue nodded before turning and dashing off toward the bridge.
Moments later, he returned holding an unlighted torch in each hand. The dwarf quickly lit them and then gave one to the knight and the other to the warrior. They held these blazing brands in their shield hands as they descended into the darkness. The first chamber below the tower was a large empty expanse filled with what, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more than piles of junk.
However, a more careful examination revealed that they were a wide variety of articles that had been sorted into different heaps. Worn, torn, and tattered clothes – that looked as if they had been stained here or there with blood – made up several piles. Another was composed of metal armor as well as bent and broken shields. Yet another was filled with swords, scimitars, daggers, and all manner of bladed weapons.
Finally, something attracted the bard's attention. He bent down to pick up a worn leather breastplate. On it was stamped the emblem of Innalas.
“This is interesting,” he said, lifting the armor up closer to the torchlight. “Very interesting.”
“It's from Innalas,” the young knight pointed out. “It was probably some ranger's breastplate.”
“Well done, lad,” the bard smiled, “You're absolutely right. Though, the really interesting thing is that the rangers of Innalas haven't worn armor like this in close to twenty years.”
“What do you mean?” the Telian asked.
“Exactly what I said,” Ian replied. “Look at it. It doesn't look like that brand-new breastplate Kilren is wearing, does it? When King Illfas assumed the throne almost twenty years ago, he decided to alter the look. It was a completely cosmetic change, of course. You see, many times when a new elvish noble takes the throne, they make a number of minor changes to uniforms, armor, etc. This is done in an attempt to define the look of their rule, if you see what I mean. It has resulted in some rather interesting fashion changes over the centuries. For instance...”
“Ian,” Tealor smiled, “perhaps later tonight would be a better time to go into all that.”
“Quite so, my friend,” the bard agreed. “Quite so. Either way, my point was that this armor has been here for close to twenty years. So, whoever our enemy is, they may have been planning this for a very long time.”
After making a brief search of the rest of the chamber, the trio once again descended the stairs. The next room they encountered was the last. The stairs came to an end in what appeared to be a small natural cavern. Along one of the walls stood a long, sturdy table with metal restraints securely mo
unted to the wall near both its head and foot. Near that table there was another of much smaller proportions on which sat a rack of almost empty vials. These contained trace amounts of still-glowing inks of red, blue, green, and orange.
“Well, if we had any lingering doubts before, we don't now,” the bard asserted.
“No, we don't,” the warrior agreed. “It may not be much, but it's a start. As this place has obviously been deserted for quite a while, I think we should spend the night here. There's enough room on the ground floor to stable the horses, so they won't be a problem. We'll still have three watches, but I think one of us for each will be sufficient.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Ian replied with a nod. “Sir Darian?”
“What?”
“I mean: does that meet with your approval?”
“Oh,” the knight chuckled. “Yes, of course.”
The companions quickly made their way back to their allies to tell them exactly what they had found. With the last few minutes of daylight, the men went to gather wood at the edge of the forest while the ladies led the horses and the massive wolf inside before making preparations for the night. As soon as the last of the band was safely inside, the door was closed behind them.
“Kilren,” Tealor said, turning to look at the rogue. “You think you could lock the door?”
“Absolutely,” the rogue replied. “But first, do you think you could lift me to the top of the door frame?”
“Probably,” the warrior chuckled, “but, why would I?”
“Because I want you to,” Kilren replied, turning his back to the captain and his face toward the door.
“Alright,” Tealor laughed before taking the rogue firmly by the waist and lifting him from the floor. “Let me know when you're done.”
“Yep, yep, yep,” Kilren said, reaching out and grabbing something from the top of the door. “That's what I thought. You can let me down now.”
“What is it?” Erana asked as soon as the rogue's feet touched the ground.
“The key,” he said, turning around with a flourish. “In case you didn't know it, that is a very common place to keep a spare key. It's amazing how many merchants with shops that are just loaded with loot keep it in the exact same place. If they turn their backs for just half-a-second you can...”
The excitement of the rogue was brought to a complete standstill by the scowling face of the young Telian.
“I mean: some unscrupulous person could... if they wanted to... sort of... steal it... I guess...”
“You never did that, did you Kilren?” the knight asked, his brows furrowed in displeasure.
“Darian!” the rogue exclaimed. “How could you ask me something like that? Is that what you really think of me? Well, that hurts... I hate to admit it, but it does... hurts bad... my own best man...”
“Kilren,” the Telian began before pausing to look at the floor with a blush. “I'm... I don't know what to say... I just... It seemed from the way you were telling it... I'm very sorry... I spoke without thinking...”
“Say no more,” the rogue said, throwing his hand up magnanimously before taking his companion by the shoulder. “I have very thick skin, my friend, and I'm also very forgiving. Plus, of course, I'm completely accustomed to you not thinking. So, really, forget it. I already have.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Darian replied humbly.
“You're more than welcome!” Kilren exclaimed as he locked the door using the key he had just recovered.
A short while later, the smell of cooking food filled the kitchen while most of the party sat around a dining table lit by a number of candles they had managed to find. As soon as the meal was concluded, the sorceress turned her attention to the notes that had been discovered within the tower.
She spread them out in the flickering candlelight and began studying them carefully.
“Gwendolyn, come here for a moment,” she said. “I want to teach you something.”
“Certainly,” the maiden replied, taking a seat beside her instructor. “What is it?”
“The writing on these papers is runic,” the sorceress began. “That being the case, you can read it like you would any other language if you understand the characters or you can read it using magic.”
“How?” the young maiden asked.
“That's what I'm going to teach you,” Sarena answered with a smile. “Now, I can read most of this like I would anything else. Both because of my training and my years of experience. However, when you can't read magical writings, normally you can do this.”
As the sorceress said this, she closed her eyes and began chanting. Gwendolyn could feel the power flowing through her teacher as the spell was cast.
“Do you think you can do that?” Sarena asked.
“I can try,” Gwendolyn replied, taking a deep breath.
The young sorceress followed the example of her instructor and channeled the arcane power through her mind. When she opened her eyes and looked at the pages spread before her, she found that she could read every word written on them.
“That's incredible!” the maiden exclaimed. “I can read all of it! But... one thing... it doesn't make any sense...”
“Of course not,” the sorceress laughed. “That is to say, of course it doesn't make any sense to you, my dear. What's written on these pages is magical theory that's very difficult for me to follow. There was no way you were going to understand it. I just wanted you to learn to read it. Which you did, by the way, with incredible speed. It took me almost an hour to pick it up – and I learned very quickly. Of course, I was always much better with fire. Either way, you're doing very well. Once we're back home, I'll get you some books on more fundamental subjects. We may not use magic like the wizards do, but it's good for us to understand just the same.”
Having taught her apprentice what she could for the moment, she turned her attention back to the contents of the papers. For the first few hours of the evening, she sat engrossed, doing her best to grasp exactly what it was the writer was hoping to achieve and how. If she could understand that, maybe she could find a way to counter it.
While the sorceress sat at the table absorbed in her reading, the bard sat in a quiet corner enjoying his pipe. Seeing him alone for the moment, the elvish maiden took the opportunity to speak to him on a subject that had been very much on her mind of late.
“Can I talk to you, Ian?” she asked, lowering herself to the floor beside him.
“Always, my dear. Always,” the bard replied, pulling the pipe momentarily from his mouth. “What can I help you with?”
“It's about Kilren,” she said after a brief pause.
“So much I would have expected, lass,” he replied. “But, what about him?”
“It's the aging thing,” she sighed.
“Ahhh,” he replied with a nod.
“I mean; he really is aging twice as fast as I am,” she said. “I love him and I don't want to watch him grow old and die unless I can do it with him.”
“I understand,” the dwarf smiled. “And, I think I have a plan.”
“You do?” she asked excitedly. “Thank the Eilian. What is it?”
“Well...” he said slowly before taking another draw from his pipe. “As far as I can figure, all we can do is slow his aging down to just about the average elf rate.”
“Wonderful!” she replied. “So, how do we do that?”
“That is the tricky bit,” the dwarf admitted. “But, it has been done before. There's a potion that can be brewed that would do it. It would slow him down to the average elf life speed; if you see what I mean.”
“That sounds ideal! When can we get one?”
At this, the bard burst out laughing.
“Well, it's not as simple as all that, dear,” he explained. “It may take us years and we may never manage it. But, for now, we know that it's possible. For the moment, that has to be good enough.”
“It is,” she replied quietly. “It's enough for me to know the
re's hope. I'm not going to tell him yet, though. I'm not sure how he would react. I don't want him to think that I'm thinking about it; if you know what I mean.”
“I do, my dear,” he replied. “And I completely agree with you.”
A few hours later, the dwarf took up a seat beside the studying sorceress.
“Made any progress?” he asked, glancing over the papers before her.
“I believe I have, Master Ian,” she replied. “At the very least, I've learned as much as I can from these notes.”
“Have you found a solution?”
“If you mean a way around the wards, then no,” she said, shaking her head. “This is incredibly powerful magic. The caster is a genius, there's no question. The wards actually use the life force of the creature they're tattooed on. So, the only way to destroy the runes is to kill the creature.”
“That does make it a tad complicated,” he replied with a whistle.
“It does,” she agreed. “I suspect that you could create a series of counter-wards that would kill the creature if it touched them, but that is magic far beyond my current skill. Even if it could be done, which I'm not sure of, you'd basically have to convince them to come to you.”
“So, how do you defeat the wards?”
“Just as we have up to this point, my dear bard,” the sorceress replied. “Just beat our way through them with shear arcane energy. It's taxing, but effective. Especially, when I channel it through my ring.”
“Well, it's not ideal,” the bard replied, “but, at least now you know.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “however, that's not the worst part.”
“What is the worst part?”
“The writer theorized that the runes could be used to make things invisible,” she answered.
The Beasts of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 2) Page 19
