“Dear friends,” Aelred began, his commanding voice grave, yet infused with a quality of hope for which he had gained renown among both the high and lowborn across many realms. “Darkness spreads. Evil assaults us on all sides.” Concerned faces regarded him, each conscious of troubling developments on their own borders. “Taken in isolation, my heart would not weigh so heavily upon me. Taken together, alas, these evils are a warning siren. I dread to think what I increasingly believe to be true.”
“What do you increasingly believe to be true?” High Elf Lord Ferfendess enquired in euphonious voice.
Talarren scanned the serious faces assembled before him. Queen Zenobia sat straight-backed, her striking features severe as stone. Her mysterious green eyes fixed on their charismatic leader Aelred with what amounted to, in Talarren’s opinion, more than simple deference.
Oceanwave stood by a tapestried wall, taking in the paladin’s words. With a mild expression of irritation, Talarren thought.
First Wizard sat at Aelred’s left, his face seemingly more creased than when Talarren visited him in First Wizard Tower a month earlier. As always a powerful, arcane force emanated from him. He wore his official robe, its blue-white swirls dotted with golden stars knitted by his tailor in Alonçane. As leader of the Alpha Circle of Wizards, he carried his wizardric staff nestled through crossed arms like a sceptre, innocuous and non-descript as it was.
On Aelred’s right sat a distinguished-looking, venerable gentleman who combined gravitas with a mysterious vulnerability. A peasant would don his cap in deference. A soldier would feel compelled to protect him. A sick person would feel confident in receiving coppers as he passed by. Brigands, though admiring his dignity, would harbour second thoughts about relieving him of his purse. Yet he, like First Wizard, was none other than a Guardian of Rohalgamoth. Power resided in him like few other mortals. His friendly smile hid a reservoir of knowledge and arcane power. He sensed, like Aelred and First Wizard, that a quickening was taking place on earth in which he and his colleagues would be called upon to play a major role. He sensed a hastening of evil, a clarion call. Like Aelred and his fellow Guardian, he felt their world was teetering on the threshold of the Age of Demons.
Aelred walked with deliberate steps to a wide wall on which was pinned a large, detailed map of the Central Continent. Maps such as these, Talarren knew, were extremely rare. “Before I answer your question, Lord Ferfendess, my friend, let us share our news. I trust such news will aid us piece together this puzzle. Moses, pray proceed.”
The shaggy beard and long white hair of Raysal-El-Hin’s warrior-prophet seemed to blow as if a strong wind pushed hither and thither, yet no such wind blew. His mighty frame matched other fighters beside him. His rolled-back sleeves revealed powerful forearms marked by multiple scars. “Bad news, I regret to say. Mugar troops are afoot. Our ally in Gunnedah, Del Sayyid, informs me Tāhūbād plans to invade us again, this time with a stronger force. Mugar warships are making their way south, not in sufficient numbers to be concerned about, but movement of troops on our northern borders concerns us. Two of our spies have been returned to us on horseback without their heads.”
“Can you resist another Mugar assault?” Oceanwave enquired of Moses.
Moses turned to him, peering out from under bushy white eyebrows. “That depends. If Tāhūbād threw his full weight against us, we could resist for a few weeks at most. They have discovered our weakest point is Octopus Bay. Our giant octopus populations have been replenished since the last invasion. But Tāhūbād’s commanders and shamans will no doubt be devising strategies to combat them. If their navies were to gain entry to our lands via Octopus Bay, we will haemorrhage. They will attack Rayham Fortress from the south. They will then be able to march inland to attack our capital, Bethendel, from the south. Their shamans will no doubt be preparing to prevent our Hurricane! spells decimating their galleys. In this scenario, if they are successful we will fall within two weeks.
“Filthy dogs,” spat Ehud.
“How long would Mugar armies take to put an army together with sufficient strength to invade?” Queen Zenobia asked, recalling her own role in slaughtering innumerable invaders when Tāhūbād’s forces last besieged Bethendel.
“Again, that depends on how serious he is, and also on weather conditions. Also, how covert he wants to be. If he wanted speed, he could have his navy and troops drawn in battle lines within a month. However, if he wanted a quick attack to catch us unawares, he could do that within a week. Only he would not, in that case, have sufficient firepower to breach our walls. These Mugar warships concern me, though.”
“Galleys or cogs?” Oceawave asked.
“Both.”
Silence filled the room. Most of those present had taken part in previous campaigns defending Raysal-El-Hin from Mugar invasion. Memories of its ferocity resurfaced.
Aelred spoke up. “In our favour are forces of Central Alliance under King Xertes. But I confess his absence at our meeting today concerns me.”
“Do we know what has happened to delay him?” First Wizard asked. “He has been unwell but only something grave would prevent his presence among us.”
No-one knew. Queen Zenobia had heard from no messenger pigeons or horsemen.
“We must proceed, though,” Aelred replied. “As I was saying, the Central Alliance acts as a deterrent to Tāhūbād’s generals. We have threatened to attack if they try to invade Raysal-El-Hin again. Tāhūbād would be reluctant to bring his full force upon Raysal-El-Hin for fear of exposing his northern frontier to Central Alliance armies under King Xertes.” He turned to Moses, who nodded. “I believe Tāhūbād is posturing, engaging in terror tactics which he loves to do. Oceanwave, news from your deep sea domains?”
Aelred stepped back as Oceanwave almost swam toward the map. A sea-salty smell surrounded him, mixing with the flavour of aromas released by Queen Zenobia’s magic braziers and scented candles. He pointed his staff at a stretch of water called Galapagos Gulf. “In our last meeting three months ago, we heard of orcs being seen between Albatross Mountains and the western shores of Galapagos Gulf. We do not have any more knowledge at this juncture.”
Queen Zenobia spoke next. Her striking features were accentuated by purple lipstick matching the purple dye running through jet black hair, tightly bound around her head. Her long hair braided in plaits and interspersed with ruby-studded pins fell down her back. A royal purple robe hugged her curvaceous figure. She chose not to wear her sparkling tiara studded with rare diamonds, fashioned in Lafarrhine by Alonçane’s finest jewellers. “In three months since our last meeting, more orcs have been seen in Albatross Mountains, in greater numbers. Orcs have also been seen heading south.” She turned to Aelred. “We have reason to believe the Sorceress of Llularven has reappeared around the verges of the Eastern Wilderness south of Galapagos Gulf. Wild tribesmen have also been seen for the first time in our lifetime. We believe the Sorceress is rebuilding her power.”
Talarren noticed Aelred’s face turn deathly white, such as he had not seen before.
“Did you and Aelred not vanquish her and her filthy minions, o mighty First Wizard, in a deadly battle of magical force?” Ehud asked, fiddling with his High Priestly ring. “Did not Aelred finish her off with a stroke from Kalandahir?”
“So we thought,” First Wizard nodded sadly. “That was more than five years ago. It appears she may have survived beyond all our imaginings. Most likely through her Dark Arts connections.”
The Warrior Queen continued. “This bodes ill. Does she mean conquest? We are confident she could not yet have regained her former power. She must be rebuilding.”
Talarren’s eyes rested on Aelred, whose face took on a strange look before quickly turning away. “Thank you, Queen Zenobia. The Scandorlands campaign against the Western Orcs continues. Their routing a few years ago destroyed them. They pose no serious threat but have been known to make occasional raids from mountain lairs. Bounty-hunters frequently bring back orc heads in
exchange for gold from the Scandorlands king. That situation is now officially under control.”
The High Priest grunted. “That’s all that miserable worm is good for,” he growled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The Scandorlands king rules his people with an iron fist. We know he wants to annex Taliti. He’s already sending settlers into the Arid Triangle as if the land belongs to him.”
“He has expansionist designs, that is true,” Aelred agreed. “However, at this point his methods, though devious and motivated by power, are not violent. He keeps his realm and borders secure. Lafarrhine has threatened to block all passage along Silk Road out of Scandorlands if he so much as annexes one cubit of territory from Taliti. We believe this is how to contain him. As for the Arid Triangle, he is welcome to it. He may get more than he bargained for.”
His companions laughed. They had long known of caverns, deep underground, where goblins and other creatures lived, minding their business. For the moment.
Aelred pointed to his map again. He gestured to Talarren.
Talarren stood up, proud to be numbered among the Companions of Aelred. “Speaking of goblins, there have been sightings of them in Reswald. As you know, King Harrad was presumed killed in the Norse Devastation, yet his body was never recovered. Neither was a ransom demanded from any Norseman. None of this is news to you.
“Recently, a young man approached King Toscannic of Lafarrhine, claiming to be a legitimate son of King Harrad.” Talarren went on to describe his dealings with Alex and Lord Cuthbert and his discoveries of the Grove of Purple Ivy who had well and truly insinuated themselves within Reswald’s power structure. He described their Norse pirate quest, culminating in news that shocked everyone. “We have located the Amulet of Power.”
Each person leapt to their feet. Gasps of astonishment erupted around the room.
“Why did you not say so sooner?” Oceanwave demanded softly.
A hush descended, mixed with Queen Zenobia’s heady perfumes and scents. The greatest implication of such a find, they knew, exposed their days for what they were – evil days; days ushering in a desperate need for supernatural protection. Such a need was predicated on one thing – the Age of Demons. If such an artefact had come to power at this moment in history, combined with a growing tide of evil, it could only mean it was desperately needed. Supernatural powers for good must have orchestrated its unlikely find. Perhaps even Rohalgamoth himself. And what of the Sword, they wondered?
No-one said a word. Aelred’s grim features said it all. His fear of a rising threat, outlined then and there in their meeting, could not have been endorsed more powerfully than if they’d found Log-Kyrios itself, the Sword of Extinction, fashioned in perfect harmony with the Amulet of Power. Anyone versed in ancient lore and prophecies, which included each person in that chamber, understood that one artefact never operated by itself. When one appeared, its counterpart was indispensable.
“This discovery,” Aelred said to his spellbound audience, “means we must be extra vigilant. We must be in continual communication with one another.”
“We must recruit more allies to join our forces,” Ehud said.
“Aelred,” First Wizard asked, “should we review Sorensen’s exclusion from our number?”
A notable absence from the Companions of Aelred was Sorensen the Great, arguably more powerful than First Wizard himself. In the eyes of many, Sorensen stood as a most formidable defender of the free world against aggression from Tāhūbād the Cruel, the dark sorcery of enchantresses like Llularven and her minions, hordes of goblins and orcs from mountains and sinister and spine chilling creatures of the underworld. Not to mention deep-sea creatures, dragons and other monsters lurking behind dark shadows.
Despite his reputation and the insistence of some among the Companions, Aelred refused to grant him admittance. Sorensen’s advice and assistance would always be sought, Aelred insisted, however the Companions needed to remain a small circle.
There was a deeper reason, Talarren felt. He suspected Aelred viewed Sorensen’s threefold lust for power, fame and gold as unacceptable risks to the Circle’s integrity.
Aelred was not sure whether the great magician guessed his motives, but in any case he consistently sought Sorensen’s counsel and magical prowess. Sorensen had caused untold devastation to armies of Tāhūbād in recent battles over Raysal-El-Hin. His fame was growing exponentially. As did his gold as spoils of battle. He received handsome compensation from the royal coffers of Moses Al-Shaddai, whose silver and diamond mines, reef pearls and other natural resources made them rich beyond compare, thus enabling them to finance their defence, much to the jealous fury of Tāhūbād and his viziers, pashas, shamans and generals.
Another absence, though not quite so obvious as Sorensen’s, remained dwarven representation from the Albatross Mountains. In none of the four dwarven kingdoms did a legitimate leader emerge. Two dwarven kings, Grondor the Greedy and Boldenax the Belligerent would never be considered. As their names suggested, their disposition was inconsistent with Aelred’s goals, namely to promote and defend goodness and justice, and destroy evil. Aelred himself had personally requested audience with both other dwarven kings. Audience was granted, and Aelred was treated with due respect. Yet both refused his request, citing internal political conflicts, increased activity among orcish populations and other monsters in the eastern stretches of their mountain range. Perhaps most worrying of all, they both admitted, appeared the growing boldness and frequency of pirate attacks along Gulf of Ice, interfering substantially with trade into and out of their kingdoms. As much as they wished to help, they regretted that trivialities outside Albatross Mountains did not greatly factor in their deliberations.
Cognisant of famed dwarvish insensitivity, Aelred took no offense. He did, however, explain that those “trivialities” affecting kingdoms outside Albatross Mountains could just as easily affect what went on inside the Albatross Mountains, particularly threats that seemed distant at that moment in time but which could come back to bite them in the future. On the back of polite, yet indelicate refusals, Aelred thanked them and took flight on Silverwing, his majestic Pegasus, most noble and speedy of all winged creatures.
When Aelred returned to his Guardian friends after that fruitless journey, their eyes narrowed in anger.
“Short-sighted fools,” Oceanwave had hissed.
“Let’s hope they never have to pay for their stupidity,” Ehud had exclaimed.
Inside Queen Zenobia’s citadel, his friends pondered this sad state of affairs. Though headstrong, dwarves shared a friendly history with the children of men.
Aelred studied the map before him. “At least they are allies.”
“Are they?” Oceanwave returned quickly. “Are they really? If an army of orcs massed on the Central Kingdom’s northern borders, do you honestly think they would rally to us?”
“Of course,” Ehud replied, his eyes glinting. “An orcish defeat would mean more territory for them.”
Aelred nodded.
“True,” agreed Oceanwave. “If they stood to gain something.”
“They have been known to come to the defence of other races,” Aelred said in an effort at magnanimity.
Ehud smiled, slapping Aelred on his shoulder. “Yes. For territory, survival or treasure, they will aid anyone or anything.”
“Honour,” Oceanwave reminded them. “Don’t forget dwarvish honour. Oh, they’ll go to great lengths to defend that.”
Aelred laughed loudly. “I’ll grant you that,” he said.
Oceanwave knew dwarven obstinacy grated on Aelred’s natural inclination for balance. This in turn grated on Oceanwave who had little patience for Aelred’s perfectionist character.
“Forget it, Aelred,” Ehud advised him. “Your Companions are a mighty force. For now, at least, dwarves are not essential. Let’s have some of that Lafarrhine ale we love so much.”
“Show us the Amulet of Power,” Queen Zenobia requested.
He placed it r
everently on the table. It shone brilliantly, its scintillating emerald shimmering under the subtle orange light. Its diamonds dazzled, cleaned to perfection by Caspar using the most expensive cleaning agents from the best apothecary he could find in the Citadel. Once again, all fell silent. They gazed in wonder at this mighty artefact of antiquity.
“Praised be to Rohalgamoth and the gods we have recovered such a weapon,” Oceanview gasped.
“There is one more thing,” Talarren added. “On our return journey from Thane Landreth’s castle we were assailed.”
They observed Talarren with alarm. “A rider on a rastamal cast a Dark Arts curse upon us.” A shock rippled through the assembly. “We know for sure this is the Amulet because it protected us from certain death. We do not know who our assailant was, or how they knew we possessed our ancient prize.”
“If Dark Arts practitioners know we possess this powerful defence against them, this is not a bad thing,” Ehud pronounced. “We must spread this news far and wide. How they knew, though, must be unearthed.”
After some discussion, Talarren admitted he had no idea. Only he, Caspar and possibly a handful of Norse pirates knew of its existence on Olaf’s pirate island.
“We must be vigilant,” Ehud said.
That afternoon the Companions of Aelred enjoyed good food and drink and each another’s company, relaxing on cool balconies surrounded with lilacs, blossoming roses and twittering birds-of-paradise harmonising with nightingales and yellow-breasted warblers. A pink-orange splash of gentle colour lit the brilliant sky as it gently melted into a distant horizon.
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