Age of Demons_In Search of the Amulet

by David Lawrence

  This ambition to destroy evil led him into palaces of kings, forests of elves, caverns of dwarves and all types of wilderness settings. Peasants and lords counted him as friend. He considered himself greater than no man, yet in truth he was greater than most. Few men, and no women, knew his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  Talarren Gathers a War Party

  AN EAGER-LOOKING YOUTH OF twenty years sat in a waiting room in a corridor running off the Head Chamberlain’s office. Like everything in the King’s Offices, the teak-lined chamber seemed inappropriately regal for the weedy-looking youth who sat waiting patiently.

  He stood up immediately when Talarren entered. Talarren summed him up in a moment, a particular skill he had developed under his uncle’s tutelage. The lad had intelligent eyes. He was eager. Naïve. Vulnerable. A little superior. Determined. Ambitious.

  He extended a hand that had never done a single day’s manual labour in his life. Talarren’s large, calloused hand covered it.

  “I’ve a heard a lot about you, Lord Talarren,” the lad said in awe. Talarren immediately noticed the resemblance to his father, King Harrad and felt more inclined to believe his story.

  “And I you, Alex,” Talarren responded warmly. “Call me Talarren. I am not a Lord.”

  “King Toscannic says I cannot find a greater ally in my quest to regain Reswald’s throne.” Alex appeared mesmerised by Talarren’s penetrating and mysterious storm-grey eyes.

  “Our quest, Alex, is not to help you regain Reswald’s throne,” Talarren corrected him. “You must be very clear about my role. I, and this party I assemble, have committed to entering Harrad Castle and, using your map, retrieving your Title Deeds along with other documents or treasures that belonged to your father.”

  “But King Toscannic said…”

  Talarren raised his broad, muscular hand in a gesture of authority. “Do not attempt to deceive me. I know very well what King Toscannic said. And His Majesty knows very well to what I have committed. Beyond what I have told you, we cannot do. Is that clear?” He nodded. “Good. I will not hear another word about what I will or will not do.” Talarren took a chair beside him. “For what it is worth, I hold out little hope of us finding your documents. After nearly twenty years, a royal castle will have been looted hundreds of times by well equipped treasure-seekers. But we will try.”

  A look of despondency overcame Alex.

  Talarren placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Even if we find your Title Deeds, Dagan will not be responsive to your claim. You must know this.”

  Alex stood up angrily. “Of course I do. He is a pig. He has no right to sit on my father’s throne. My throne, I should say! But our constitution is clear. I am a lawyer and have studied our legal code since I could read, taught by my beloved aunt who revealed my identity on her deathbed two months ago. She left me her diary and important family documents, including a map of where to find the Title Deeds to my father’s estates, including Harrad Castle. Once I find these title deeds, and hopefully the Charter of Reswald along with it, Dagan will have no choice but to abdicate. Resward’s Chief Magistrate, an archdruid, will see to it. He has assured me already.”

  “Is that so?” Talarren asked.

  “When can we leave?” Alex asked.

  “As soon as I assemble our party. Tomorrow night we meet at a friend’s house.” Talarren slipped him a piece of paper on which was written an address. “Arrive at six o’clock. We share a meal, retire early, then leave at dawn for Reswald.”

  Alex nodded grimly and extended his hand. Talarren shook it. The chamberlain led Alex back to his quarters in the king’s guest chambers.

  One hour later, Talarren met Kron underneath Victory Arch in Alonçane’s mercantile sector in the northern corner of the city. “Kron, I do not know what weighs upon you so I will not pry. A dwarf does not like opening his heart to strangers.”

  Kron nodded in acknowledgment.

  “There is also a fire burning inside you.” Kron suspected that this unusual Ranger knew much more than he let on. “I suspect you are here for some much deeper, dare I say, higher purpose. A treasure-seeker is not something that greets me when I look into your eyes.”

  Under the shadows of Alonçane’s Victory Arch, Kron’s broad dwarven frame and lustrous beard took on a particularly ferocious aspect. Everything about him revealed a steely resolve. His physical strength was phenomenal, demonstrated by walking so easily in plate-mail and carrying a battle-axe many warriors would struggle to wield. Without seeing him fight, Talarren’s instincts told him this dwarf was someone you wanted on your side in battle. His instincts were rarely wrong. Razel, by contrast, he was not sure about. His better judgement ruled against her, but First Wizard’s seemed sure of her. He would continue to defer to First Wizard’s suggestion. In any case, Winchester was an experienced wizard from the Alpha Circle. Talarren could be confident in his magical abilities and soundness of character.

  Talarren waited. A horse-drawn cart carrying bundles of redwood planks passed underneath Victory Arch. “Will you commit to take on this Highland quest with me?”

  “If you are leader,” Kron responded. “Perry has an excellent reputation but he has a mouth. I will not serve under him.”

  Talarren nodded. “Would you agree to another quest in Reswald if there was little chance of financial reward, but much danger?” Kron’s expression told Talarren exactly what he thought of such a proposition. “Tomorrow, come to this address. I want you to hear a lad tell us his story. You can decide from there. Agreed?”

  Kron grunted. He would see. He took the piece of paper offered by Talarren. Talarren disappeared behind Victory Arch’s towering stonework full of runes, carvings and bas-reliefs depicting great events in Alonçane’s illustrious history, including many of its historic dealings and alliances with the dwarves of Albatross Mountains.

  *********************

  When Talarren returned from visiting a sick relative, a messenger on horseback rushed to him. “Talarren, is a letter from First Wizard.” He passed him a parchment secured with First Wizard’s seal. Talarren ripped it open. “Winchester was ambushed by robbers and tragically murdered last night. We are investigating the incident.”

  A tremor of shock passed through Talarren. He slowly filled his enormous lungs with air. Surely this was more than co-incidence?

  “Shall I wait for a reply, your lordship?” the messenger asked politely.

  Talarren shook his head, reeling. “No, thank you.” The messenger raced off, leaving Talarren suspicious and agitated. If only he knew Gatby was in Alonçane he would have secured him on the spot. Once Winchester had agreed, he felt his need for a spellcaster was fulfilled. That left them with one exclusively magical person, First Wizard’s recommendation, a young, green maiden named Razel. This was not a good start, he thought. And what of Winchester? His heart went out to the dead man who showed such spontaneous generosity.

  That night they met at Talarren’s venue, a simple second-storey apartment with a flat rooftop. One by one his guests arrived. Firstly, Alex, followed by Kron. Then Perry knocked loudly, standing alongside his friend Elfindi. A cleric named Caspar struck everyone with his impeccably pressed tunic, custom fit cloak, trim beard and combed hair. Even the way he knocked on the door distinguished him as a man of precision. Last of all appeared Razel whose extraordinary beauty momentarily arrested every person in the room.

  “What in the name of Princess Charmlove do we have here?” Perry said, bounding from his soft armchair to take Razel’s hand.

  She whisked it away and took an indignant step backwards. “Mind yourself!” she snapped.

  Perry bowed, as he did so raising his eyebrows to Elfindi, who did not notice. He was staring at Razel like a stupid schoolboy.

  After introductions Talarren outlined his plan for their Norse enterprise. The two Highlanders had rushed on ahead to inform their thane and prepare for their arrival. “Thane Landreth will be forever grateful,” they shouted as their
horses sped away.

  An unsigned contract lay on a simple wooden table.

  “This is Alex,” Talarren began. “He has ridden from Reswaldtown seeking an audience with King Toscannic, who is a distant relative. King Harrad disappeared along with his two sons during the Norse Devastation twenty years ago. Alex is one of those sons. Rumours have been circulating that a Norse chieftain responsible for attacking Harrad Castle has since turned to piracy and has been operating around Iceland Sea and the Gulf of Ice for ten years. Two months ago Alex’s aunt died. It was this very same aunt who escaped with Alex through a secret tunnel during an attack on Harrad Castle. His mother and all their household were believed killed. Before she died, this aunt revealed to Alex his true identity. All these years he has believed he was orphaned when both parents died from a plague, for his own safety. In the meantime the aunt tirelessly searched for her brother, King Harrad. Without success.

  “Alex wants assistance to retrieve the Title Deeds to Harrad Castle. Reswald’s constitution states that title deeds to vacant properties must be produced within twenty years or that property becomes Crown land. This twenty year period is about to expire.

  “Even more significantly, possession of these Title Deeds will prove Alex is in fact Reswald’s legitimate heir. When he turns twenty-one in six months time, Reswald’s constitution allows him to be crowned legitimate King of Reswald. He is now a lawyer who graduated with honours from Reswald University.”

  Alex stood before his audience holding his aunt’s leatherbound diary describing in detail that fateful day of King Harrad’s disappearance and her own escape through a secret tunnel underneath Castle Harrad.

  “I have a tome here,” Talarren began, “borrowed from a restricted section of our illustrious Alonçane library. I believe you will find it fascinating to hear some of the text I will read to you, particularly in relation to the story Alex is about to tell us. No library matches ours for ancient lore, historic scrolls, tomes and parchments. This particular tome chronicles events from the First Age across many countries and distant lands. First Wizard has allowed me to borrow it despite its restricted access. You will see what relevance it has once I furnish you with more information about our quests. Furthermore, I need our two quests to remain under strict secrecy.” Talarren’s intense grey eyes scanned each in his audience. “Can you give me your assurance that you will reveal nothing of what we discuss?” They looked at one another with some hesitation, then nodded.

  Razel had been pleasantly surprised by the Ranger’s magnetism which she believed even surpassed First Wizard’s glowing description of him. First Wizard had assured Razel nothing could improve her magical experience more than accompanying Talarren on his quest. She readily agreed to submit herself to his authority and join him on his quest.

  Talarren read from his tome in a commanding, resonant voice:

  “Bloody and bitter have been feuds fought between Reswald’s two powerful families, the Houses of Harrad and Dagan. Relations between these dynasties waxed and waned over generations but despite this, Reswald benefitted from the wisdom dispensed by druids of the Grove of Purple Ivy whose holy books included the Book of Talieson and Proto-Mabinogion. These dedicated druids promoted the common good. They were reliable lawgivers and magistrates. They often maintained a fragile peace, using diplomacy to masterful effect, leaving the realm largely untouched by the vendettas and longstanding animosities between the rival clans of Harrad and Dagan. Reswald became so stable under Purple Ivy druids that contemporaneous Guardians of Rohalgamoth bequeathed the Amulet of Power to Archdruid Avon Mistletoe of Reswald, a worthy custodian. This Amulet remains unparalleled in power; an ancient artefact fashioned by master craftsmen with the aid of Rohalgamoth himself. It is a ward against evil and especially efficacious as a defense against Dark Arts and the Age of Demons, said to descend upon earth when the balance of evil on earth grows to such a point that the ancient Pact of Rohalgamoth is shattered.

  “Some time before the Second Age, Archdruid Avon Mistletoe’s success as Chief Magistrate of the Realm saw Reswald become a leading nation of its age. Many powerful magicians and spellcasters took residence within its cities and towns. Priests flocked in to establish temples and practice their rites. Trade and commerce flourished. A powerful army ensured peace in and around its borders.

  “At the dawn of Second Age many leagues to the east, Liching Ling and the fighter-clerics of Baal spread their sinister tentacles across a broad swathe of territories and lands, extending out from the Steppes where the evil Emperor Liching Ling established his power base. Conquered lands descended into chaos under Liching Ling’s iron-fisted rule. He instituted conscription, heavy taxation, a regime of obedience and slavery. His clerics practiced Dark Arts, assuming evil powers from an underworld influence said to be a demon-efreet, sacrificing men and women on their diabolical alters to further their lust for power. Mistrust across Liching Ling’s empire, which extended as far east as Reswald, ran rife. Family members and friends betrayed one another. Public executions became commonplace.

  “Neighbouring lands shuddered in fear. Citizens fled. Mass migrations south into Mugar lands and north into Central Kingdoms created havoc. Ling’s famed cavalry and hosts of rastamals hunted men, women and children everywhere. They ravaged small settlements and communes thriving between the Steppes and Rainbow Sea, slaughtering or enslaving entire populations. Many were sacrificed on Baal’s ghastly altars.

  “What are rastamals?” Razel asked.

  Talarren’s face hardened like granite. “Monstrous beings with long jaws full of poisonous fangs. They’re devilish with scaly, forked tongues, sharp horns and a long powerful, prehensile tail like a crocodile, ending in an enormous poisonous sting. They have gigantic bat-like wings, which they use to fly with stealth and speed. They have night vision, are highly resistant to magic and possess a demon cunning. They are utterly ruthless and prey on anything weak.

  “A High Priest of Baal, a fighter cleric of renown, aligned himself with Liching Ling. Their unholy alliance allowed Ling’s empire to swallow surrounding nations, extending as far north as Switz in Central Kingdoms and as far south as the Red Desert. Only treacherous terrain and Lake Kinshasha’s perilous waters saved the wildmen from a horrible fate. Many believed the Age of Demons had arrived.

  “Opposition was met with ruthless savagery. Uprisings were crushed, rebellions annihilated. No warrior hero could match Baal clerics or Liching Ling’s minions which included hill giants, rastamals and undead, not to mention his famed cavalry, skilled on horseback like no other. Ling’s druids enlisted hordes of griffons for aerial combat. He learned from Raysal-El-Hin the secret art of roc domestication long since lost to the men of the Steppes.

  “From twisted graves undead sprung up at Ling’s commands. His Baal clerics summoned wraiths, ghouls, zombies and shadows from the netherworlds. These released unholy terror into the hearts of Liching Ling’s enemies. Realm after realm capitulated to his demands.

  “In response to this evil, every paladin, cleric and spellcaster of good alignment, every warrior willing to risk all to combat Ling’s evil empire, these rallied around the two Guardians of Rahomagoth - the First Wizard of Alpha Circle and the High Priest of Ehud. Foremost of the weapons arraigned against the evil Liching Ling was the Sword of Rohalgamoth. They met Liching Ling’s armies on the plains of Hittishk. Archdruid Avon Mistletoe of the Grove of Purple Ivy combined forces with Paladin Samson-Ramon of Alonçane. Using Log-Kyrios, otherwise known as Spirit-Slayer or Sword of Extinction, and shielded by the Amulet of Power, no Baal spells touched them. The Amulet of Power protected everyone near it from Dark Arts spells and powers. Liching Ling’s unfettered confidence in his own invincibility came unstuck. Wraiths, shadows and zombies exploded into oblivion faced with such powerful artefacts and weapons. The Amulet even thwarted the terrible power of rastamals. Rastamals who survived fled back into the vast, eerie lands of the Steppes. Wielded by the mighty paladin Samson-Ramon, Log-Kyrios, glowin
g blue, swept all before it. Its power was intensified by the Amulet, designed as they were to work together by Rohalgamoth. None of Liching Ling’s minions could withstand the enchanted power of this unrepeatable sword.

  “Mounted on his Pegasus, armed with Log-Kyrios, Paladin Samson-Ramon chased a horrified Liching Ling as he beat a hasty retreat astride his enormous Black Damonën, surrounded by hordes of minions, deep into his empire. Onward he drove his black mount toward the safety of the Great Griffon Mountains where Baal’s High Priest and his congregation of clerics sacrificed person after person on their bloodthirsty altars, imploring their demon-efreet to grant them battle victory.

  “Further east, an unexpected ally struck a deadly blow to Liching Ling’s empire. Orcs. Their mountains in the Eastern Wilderness had been raided by Ling’s armies for decades; orcs being singled out for particular tortures and sport. For some inexplicable reason, orc populations chose this moment to rebel. They invaded, mauled and slaughtered every Steppes citizen, obliterating those few soldiers who stayed behind to defend their cities and towns while the rest of Liching Ling’s army went fighting against the armies of Samson-Ramon and the Archdruid. During this time the Central Alliance was born, an agreement made between all kingdoms from Switz to Xaveria to defend each other in time of war. This alliance remains in force to this day.