by Bill Mays
“Surely, the Dark Lord will still place value on this escaped slave’s capture? He was quite adamant about retrieving these messengers before. Of course, the decision is yours, my lord. What do you suggest?” The secondary knight bowed to his superior. He realized he was getting carried away and speaking a little too freely.
Rugen considered his options. “We will wait here another week, but then I must return to Talipax.” Erinson dipped his head and turned to leave and instruct the men of their plans. “Hurry back, there are still more captives to interrogate.” Rugen ran his gauntlet-clad hand over the niche-riddled blade of Ardath slowly, lovingly. “We will meet again, Tark the Trident, if I have to search all of Pangias to find you.”
The general was not in the habit of letting those who challenged him escape with their lives. The gladiator slave had fled Drackmoore and turned on his owners. This was not only insulting, but also embarrassing for his master, the Dark Lord, as well. The man had taken the priestess he intended to claim as his personal slave from him. The gladiator and his rabble friends had escaped him twice, making him look incompetent in front of his master. The rogue warrior had even slain one of his knights and dared to threaten him personally in front of his men. For all of these reasons and more, Rugen vowed that Tark would die a painful death on the tip of his sword. Ardath hungered for that moment.
* * * * * * * * * *
Arianna bolted upright from her sleep. Dalia was awake and meditating nearby. The lady moved to the priestess’ side.
“What troubles you? Is it another dream?” The lady was hoping it was something that might assure her Tark was still well. She had begun to doubt her own instincts.
“No, not another dream, but the same nightmare,” Arianna moaned. “That crypt with its lights within, it haunts me.” The woman looked very tired. “I scarcely have a night without its presence. I fear something is coming for me, something evil.” Arianna shook the images from her head and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her eyes brightened, and she smiled at Dalia. “I did see Tark, only briefly, but he is well, though as we expected trouble follows him closely.”
Dalia sighed in relief. “I too have felt him, but I was not sure if it was simply my desires fooling me or not. Thank you for this revelation. I hope we reach his side in time to be of help,” Dalia smiled sadly.
Arianna stood and stretched away her tiredness. “I have asked Rashas for the same blessings nightly. I have faith that we will reach him, faith in our quest. I told you, I believe we are all part of his destiny.” The lady seemed to take some comfort in her words. “I must admit, though, I have a growing sense of dread,” the tall woman whispered as if something in the darkness surrounding them were listening. “It is a feeling that I can’t seem to pinpoint, but neither can I shake it from my mind.”
“Is it that crypt again?” Dalia asked.
“Yes, and more … I’m not sure, but I ….” Arianna’s speech ended abruptly.
The tall woman’s eyes began to roll up into her head as her body went into a trembling fit. Dalia stood quickly and braced her from falling. The priestess was too spastic for her to control in this state. She sent a mental call to summon Flade without alerting the rest of the camp. The ranger had been taking the watch with the lady and was checking the perimeter of camp for safety. He was at her side in an instant. The two guided the fit-ridden priestess just outside of the firelight, as her convulsions grew more intense. They did not want to wake, or frighten the soldiers. They knew from experience that the priestess’ displays were not well received. Arianna’s head snapped back to stare at the sky and then fell forward to hang at her chest. As her face rose slowly again, her white eyes locked on and glared through the ranger. Her duo-sounding voice spoke in a hiss that rose to a scream.
“The pieces move into place, the gems have awakened! Idosians, dragons, wizards and warriors clash! Many eyes watch the gladiator! Those that have lived past their time will call upon power! The priestess will meet her challenge! The ladies will struggle for his attention!”
Suddenly, Arianna’s legs buckled as her eyes rolled back into place. Flade held her close to him for support, while Dalia checked the woman’s health. The priestess was fine. As Dalia looked up, she saw that Ganze, Jillian, Petre, and several of the soldiers stood gawking at the scene.
“Not again! What evil will come our way this time?” The gangly man hissed. “You people are cursed!” Ganze turned and hurried away to find a safe spot in the camp to hide.
“Captain, The priestess has been possessed!” One of the soldiers cried out as he fled back to camp. Another man ran along behind him to back up his report.
“I-is- she g-going to be alright?” Petre asked nervously. He stood at a distance and was afraid to move any closer to the seemingly possessed woman.
Jillian stood just behind the youth. She was gripped by the same fear. “W-what is wrong with her?”
Arianna awoke from her trance to see the frightened stares of her audience. She spotted the confused looks on Petre and Jillian’s faces in particular. She began to sob.
“Nothing is wrong with her,” Dalia stated confidently. “She is a prophet as well as a priestess. Her visions are important messages sent from higher powers to guide us, nothing more, and nothing less.”
“She spoke of Dragons, and I-idosians! She must be possessed!” Another soldier stammered.
“Still considering joining their little quest, kids?” Ganze called out from afar. He directed his smirk to Petre and Jillian. “Dragons and idosians, sounds like loads of fun, huh?” One glare from Dalia and the rat-faced man moved away deeper into camp and out of sight.
“What is an idosian?” Jillian asked innocently.
“They are demons of legend that pose as ordinary people,” one of the soldiers offered.
“They are creatures from another world that came to conquer our own centuries ago. They control the minds of others and cast dark magic that requires no words! They are demonic wizards of the old world,” another soldier added.
“I guess you people really are on a serious journey then, aren’t you?” Petre suddenly seemed the misplaced child from a small village that he was. Jillian held her tongue, unsure as to how to take everything she had just seen and heard.
Dalia took Arianna from Flade’s arms. She and the priestess moved to sit on a nearby rock. The lady suddenly felt very tired and very alone. Flade left the women to themselves and rushed everyone else back to camp.
“Leave them alone,” he called out. “There is nothing to see here, people. It was a dream, a nightmare vision. Let the ladies discuss it in private so that it may become of use to us.”
Flade spent the next hour convincing the camp and one very skeptical captain that it was nothing more than a vision that could have a thousand different meanings. He assured them all that the ladies would decipher these images properly in due time. The mention of dragons and idosians in particular made the ranger uneasy, too, but he was careful not to show it. He had faith in his friends.
* * * * * * * * * *
Dalia and Arianna sat apart from the rest of the group discussing these new revelations in depth. They kept their voices to hushed whispers. The lady tried to comfort the priestess as she sobbed softly.
“I actually said that I’d be challenged? I’m afraid Dalia. I am no adventurer and no warrior. If not for my faith, I fear I would have crumbled under the pressure of our journey long ago. I often doubt whether I should be here or not. Rashas has seen fit to assign me this mission, but why? I fear I am not strong enough. Maybe it’s my fault for praying for a cause. Maybe I brought this all down on myself. My challenge, it’s that crypt; I know it in my heart. May Rashas watch over and protect me.” The tall woman’s head dipped and her honey golden hair spilled across her face.
Dalia shook off the shiver that the thought sent down her spine. A crypt suggested the dead or even the undead. She held a deep-rooted fear of such abominations. It made sense, though. It was a fitting challenge f
or a priestess and a topic which terrified the lady. Images flashed through her mind of the night her mother died. The undead were impervious to mind assaults, and thus immune to most of her idosian gifts. Dalia cleared the gruesome memories from her head.
“Arianna, you are not alone here. Flade and I will always be at your side. We will help you deal with this challenge if and when the time presents itself. And, do not discount your skills. I have watched you handle yourself quite well.”
“Thank you, thank you so much Dalia.” She hugged the smaller woman tightly. Arianna wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to control her fear. She felt foolish all of a sudden.
The lady tried to keep a serious tone. “You mentioned Tark. You mentioned dragons, and you mentioned me.” Dalia’s head hung low.
“You mean the ladies that struggle? That could be Queen Kathraine or even Jillian for that matter. My visions are often vague. Lady could simply mean woman.”
“Possibly, but I was referring to another part of what you said. You spoke of idosians, too.”
Arianna looked confused. “True, but how would that concern you?”
The thought began to blossom in the young woman’s mind. Her big blue eyes took on recognition and then a look of pity. Her refined friend’s unexplainable abilities jumped to the forefront of her thoughts. She began piecing things together. She recalled all of Dalia’s repressed emotions towards her secretive past.
“It can’t be true. You mean …?” Arianna was still hesitant to believe.
Dalia met her gaze and nodded. “I am afraid it is true,” a voice whispered inside the priestess’ head. “I suppose I am purging now,” the voice continued. The voice was Dalia’s, accent and all, but her lips did not move.
The emerald-clad woman’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Your secrets, your fear of love, I understand now. I’m so sorry I didn’t understand sooner,” Arianna was silent for a long moment. The quiet pause passed tensely between the women. The priestess placed her hands on the lady’s tensely clenched fist. “I have only one choice, and that is to deny the stories I have been told my whole life. I have faith in you Dalia and you are certainly no demon.”
“Thank you,” Dalia whispered softly. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“Does Flade know?”
“He does,” Dalia answered. “The discussion you overheard was about this very subject.” Dalia did not mention that Flade also held idosian blood. That was a choice for the ranger to make.
“And Tark? Does Tark know?”
“No! He can’t know. I could not bear for him to look upon me differently,” the lady pleaded. Every ounce of her refined bearing disappeared instantly.
Arianna met the lady’s pleading gaze with sad eyes. “As I suspected, you should have more faith in him. Love is a powerful ally.” Arianna smiled through her tears. She saw the turmoil on her friend’s sharp features and decided to change the subject. “I also said that the gems have awakened? Do you think there are more of these things out there besides the one Tark carries?”
“I do,” Dalia nodded, happy for the change of subject. “Vergehen mentioned the stones of power. We suspect that the Dark Lord possesses one as well. I think we should consult that library temple he spoke of in Villinsk. The worshippers of Nickadameous are known for their vast knowledge of past and present. We may find more information on these artifacts there. He mentioned the elves of Havenwood and the city of Talwen as well. There are many places to search for answers in Villinsk.”
“First, we find Tark. We are a stronger force together, as one,” the priestess stated confidently. “If Rashas has seen fit to challenge us thus, then I can only believe that we are meant to triumph over our obstacles.” Dalia smiled and accepted the priestess’ logic. She wished she had such faith to support her.
The women spoke for some time before returning to camp. They spoke of Dalia’s past and her heritage. They spoke of what it was to be an idosian, of faith and determination, and what it would take to complete this trying quest. They also spoke of love and of the people in their lives that mattered. When Dalia and Arianna returned to camp, they seemed more confident and in control despite the whispers and stares that greeted them. They walked together and drew strength from each other. Flade was happy to see the change.
* * * * * * * * * *
News always had a way of reaching the ears of those it was not meant to reach especially when those ears belonged to an arch mage. Meiron was not pleased to find that his general, who should be leading his forces to victory, had gone off on a side journey of his own choosing. He stood before his acid-filled scrying pool and gazed down on the image reflected within. It was the conquered town of Timbre.
“Perhaps he has found something there of importance, my lord?” Arrivand suggested as he gazed into the pool curiously.
It was his apprentice, Arrivand, who initiated the topic of Rugen’s whereabouts. He overheard a priest mentioning something about one of his superiors joining the general on a side quest. That tidbit of information piqued his interest. So, it was by no mistake that Arrivand let the rumor slip while speaking with the Dark Lord.
“I would not think a man like General Rugen to be spontaneous in his ventures.”
The red-robed mage was not speaking on the general’s behalf. He did not even like the stern man. It was just a passing thought that he vocalized. He had a habit of doing that. A glare from his master shut his lips tightly.
“Leave me!” The ancient wizard hissed. The red gem hanging over the old man’s heart pulsed steadily, twisting the old man’s features with the shadows it cast.
Arrivand was more than happy to comply with the order because being in this room alone with his master made him feel extremely uncomfortable anyway. Being in any room alone with the psychotic man made him uncomfortable. The red-robed apprentice was anxious to get back to his quarters and study the change of events through his familiar’s eyes. These resilient messengers Vergehen had chosen were entertaining to him, plus he wanted another glimpse at the beautiful priestess, Arianna.
Meiron watched as his foreign apprentice departed swiftly. He wrapped his fingers over the edges of his acid-filled gazing pedestal. Though his fingertips dipped into the acid, they did not burn. The acrid smell of the green bubbling liquid singed the inside of his nose, but he was used to it. He closed his eyes and mumbled a quick spell to allow communication with the man he now watched closely.
Rugen was busy interrogating the last of the settlement’s captives. He did not expect to gain any new information, but there was only one way to be sure. When the wavering image of his Dark Lord and master appeared before him, it almost succeeded in startling the large man -- almost. That was an accomplishment in itself. The knights of Trakarass were not easily rattled, and Rugen was their leader. Erinson, the general’s current assistant, bowed to the image and backed away to attend other business. The Dark Lord did not deal with assistants, unless they were his own. The two soldiers who had just entered the room had done so under Rugen’s direct order. The appearance of the Drackmoorian ruler did succeed in startling them. The men stood there dumbly with the prisoner screaming out in fear for her life. The general ignored the soldiers and the prisoner. He dipped his head in respect to the image.
“My lord, what brings you to this remote settlement?” Rugen’s voice was deep and stern. He knew to show his master weakness was a mistake, not that he ever showed weakness.
“I was going to ask you the same question. You are my general, and though a war is being waged against the Kandairian crown, you somehow find time to rest in an already conquered logging village on the fringes of the kingdom. Why is that?”
The prisoner let out scream after scream as she struggled desperately to escape her captors. Meiron’s image twisted to face the noisy woman. The old man’s lips moved and his arm rose as a spell was transferred through the image. It was a bit of a strain due to the residue of the vortexes he had summoned throughout the land
, but it was well worth it. She was giving him a headache. Both soldiers pulled away with shrieks of pain as the woman erupted into white flames. The prisoner was little more than charred bones by the time her body hit the floor.
“There, now I will be able to hear your answer clearly,” the ancient wizard smirked.
“I had received word of this small settlement turning away a full-sized goblin-kin raiding force. I found that to be odd and decided to investigate, my lord.” Rugen waved away the injured soldiers. He would speak with Meiron alone.
“I see you have destroyed that shack of a town, what holds you there now? Did you find the resistance headquarters hidden within? If you didn’t then I would suggest you depart at once before I am inclined to find a new general for my army. Talipax still resists my forces. That is not acceptable! I want those mines producing ore for our weapons and I want their vaults for my own!” Meiron’s black eyes stabbed through the knight’s horned helm with a simmering anger. It looked as if the wizard would explode any second.
Rugen removed his helm and stared back at the image, eye to eye. He was darkly handsome with chiseled features, deep blue eyes, and closely cropped ebon hair. His swarthy charm was part of his charisma. Rugen always looked as if he knew something you did not. “There is cause for me to remain a short while longer. I believe Trakarass led me to this place. I had hoped to share more with you once I attained results, my lord. The people here speak of a band of saviors working in conjunction with the soldiers of Kandair that rescued them. That is how they were able to turn away so large a force of your goblins.”
“And? … What is so special about that?” Meiron prompted. It was obvious the old wizard could not care less about Timbre or its decimated population.
“From the description of these saviors, I believe them to be from the same band that managed to escape both myself and our late captain, Kaith.” Mention of the dead dark elf brought a smirk to the knight’s lips. He was pleased to learn that his “replacement” had failed in the task of retrieving Vergehen’s Messengers as well.
