The Ruins on Stone Hill

by F. P. Spirit

  Seth nearly jumped out of his chair. “That would do it! The golem would practically drip out of the chute into the basement.”

  Aksel stared at Glo dubiously. “But isn’t that a complicated spell? I mean, no offense, but aren’t you a bit inexperienced to cast that?”

  “Oh yes, that spell is definitely beyond me…”

  “…but it wouldn’t be beyond Maltar.” Seth finished for him. He could hardly contain his excitement.

  “No, it certainly wouldn’t.” Aksel leaned back and stroked his chin. “However, I am fairly certain it would come at a price. We would need a scroll inscribed with the spell, and then a second scroll to change it back. A mud golem would be pretty useless.”

  Glo pressed his fingers together in front of his lips. “So two scrolls: Stone to Mud, and the reverse spell, Mud to Stone. I agree, he isn’t just going to give them to us for nothing.”

  Seth grinned impishly. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  Glo shook his head. He knew Seth would continue to pester him till he agreed. “Very well. I’ll go talk with Maltar in the morning, but Aksel is right. This is all moot if we can’t figure out how to use the ring.”

  Seth stretched and yawned. “Don’t worry so much. I’m sure…we’ll figure…it out.”

  It was getting late, and they were bone weary from a long, strenuous couple of days. They got up, left Kailay a generous tip, and headed to their rooms for a well-deserved rest.

  After breakfast the next morning, Glo left for Maltar’s cottage. He was deep in thought and missed the tavern door quietly opening and closing behind him as he stood outside the tavern.

  Maltar had quite a reputation in these parts. He was quite adept with arcane magic, but was equally well known for being a recluse, and a bit short tempered. A number of young people had studied with him, including both Xelda and the Lady Andrella, only to quit due to his lack of patience. All in all, he was not the most ideal person to be asking for anything. Just how was he going to approach the old mage?

  Glo was so preoccupied that he was in front of Maltar’s cottage before he knew it. It really was a homey place, with its dark brown exterior, green shutters, and white picket fence, but the pleasant exterior belied the temperament of its primary inhabitant.

  Oh well, here goes nothing.

  Glo opened the gate and strode up the narrow walkway to the front door. He hesitantly raised a hand and knocked. There was no response. Glo waited in silence, doing his best to appear calm; inwardly, he was still nervous about this whole encounter. When the front door finally opened, a thin, pale young man in grey robes stood there. Glo did not recognize him. He must have been another one of Maltar’s apprentices, one they had not seen yesterday.

  The lean apprentice glared. “What is it?”

  Glo tried his best to be polite. “Is Maltar home?”

  The apprentice made an unpleasant face. “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Glolindir. My friends and I had done your master a service yesterday. I was wondering if I could ask him a couple of follow-up questions—”

  “The master’s busy and cannot be interrupted. Now go away.” He stepped back and swung the door shut.

  “Wait!” Glo cried. He stepped forward before the door completely closed, but the apprentice did not stop. The door slammed on Glo’s foot.

  “Ouch!” Glo’s foot was now wedged in the doorway, caught between the door and the frame. He tried pulling back, but his foot was firmly stuck. He nearly lost his balance trying to get free, barely keeping himself from falling backwards.

  Glo was not quite sure what happened next. It wasn’t the pain; the door hadn’t been slammed that hard. Nor was it the feeling of foolishness as he stood there with his foot caught in the door. Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction after having been in life threatening situations over the last few days. Either way, whatever the reason, Glo lost control.

  He lifted a finger and spoke the words that sent a magical projectile careening from his hand. It passed through the crack in the door, followed by a thud and a low groan. A second later, the door swung wide open. The apprentice stood there, a scorch mark on his chest from where the missile had exploded. The anger drained out of Glo, replaced with guilt over what he had done.

  Unfortunately, the apprentice was now enraged. The lean man opened his mouth as if to scream, but then instead raised his hands in a familiar pattern. He is going to cast a spell!

  Glo stepped back and threw up his hands. “I’m sorry!”

  The apprentice ignored him. His hand pointed at Glo and he uttered the words, “Ardens Man—”

  Glo knew full well what was coming. He was about to be burnt, just like those bugbear mages. He cringed, waiting to be engulfed in a cone of flame. Luckily, it never came.

  The apprentice stopped mid-word. His eyes widened and his face twisted. He stared at Glo and tried to say something, but nothing came out but gurgling sounds. The wizard’s apprentice fell to his knees, then keeled over onto his face. His body lay still across the open entryway.

  Glo spied a small figure standing in the foyer just behind the fallen apprentice. It was dressed all in black with the exception of a green cloak. A dagger gleamed in one hand. Recognition slowly dawned on him.

  It’s Seth! Where did he come from?

  Glo stared from his friend down to the body on the ground and then back up again. “Seth? How did you—”

  Glo stopped short; this was not the time for questions. He bent down and checked the man’s pulse but couldn’t find one. He gazed up at Seth woodenly as the full weight of what just happened hit him. Glo spoke in a hushed voice, “He’s dead.”

  Seth dropped the dagger, his eyes misting over. His voice broke as he stared back at Glo. “He was going to…I didn’t mean to…” Seth’s face contorted into a look of anguish. “I am not an assassin!” he hissed.

  Glo immediately understood what had happened. Seth was merely trying to protect him. Unfortunately, the halfling was just a bit too good with his knives. He was about to tell Seth that very thing when they heard a commotion from inside the house.

  “What’s going on out there? Who’s disturbing my work?” It was Maltar.

  This is not good. If Maltar found them with his dead apprentice, he might just blast them out of existence. It’s my fault. I’ll accept the consequences alone.

  His voice was harsh as he hissed at Seth. “Quick, hide!”

  Seth was frozen in place. “But…”

  “There’s no time. Get out of here.”

  Seth stood there for a moment longer, then snatched up his fallen dagger. He grabbed his cloak, said a single word, then disappeared from sight.

  Glo was startled. Seth can turn invisible? There was no more time to think about it. The next moment, Maltar entered the foyer.

  The master wizard stomped toward the nervous elf. “There better be a good explanation—” He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at the grey-robed body draped across the open doorway. Maltar’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this? Fliban, get up! Don’t just lie there!”

  “I’m afraid he can’t,” Glo said softly.

  Maltar turned his gaze on Glo. “And why not?”

  Glo tensed himself for the inevitable response. “Because he’s dead.”

  Maltar stared at Glo, his expression uncomprehending. “Dead? Did you say dead?”

  Before Glo could respond, Maltar did something he would never have expected. He stepped close to the body of the hapless apprentice, pulled back a leg, and then kicked the corpse. When the man did not respond, Maltar kicked him a second time, and then a third.

  Glo’s eyes widened in disbelief. Just what kind of man was this Maltar?

  Maltar finally stopped kicking the corpse. His voice was devoid of emotion as he spoke. “Yep, he’s dead alright.” Maltar
peered up at him. Glo could feel his skin crawl as those dark, penetrating eyes bore their way into his soul. The mage then spoke in a commanding voice, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Glo gulped at first, then related what had transpired between him and Flibin, including the apprentice’s rude behavior and his own lapse in judgement. He finished with Flibin’s demise but left Seth out of it, claiming complete responsibility for the apprentice’s death. He had been the one who lost his temper. If anyone deserved to be punished for the crime, it was him, and him alone.

  Maltar’s gaze did not waver, his face a grim mask as he stared at Glo. The young elf expected at any moment to see the mage lift his hands and send him spiraling into oblivion. Then, without warning, Maltar threw back his head and let out a frightening cackle.

  “Ah ha ha!” The mage let out a shrill laugh. It was a hideous sound. Glo thought the man might be dying.

  Maltar gasped in-between cackles. “Serves…him…right! I told him…he needed…to be faster…with his spells.” The mage paused a moment to catch his breath. “So you got the drop on him, huh? Ha, ha, ha.” Maltar continued to chortle, doubling over and slapping his knee. He went on like that for a good while. Finally, the mage straightened up, tears of laughter streaming down his face. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then produced a handkerchief out of nowhere and blew his nose. When he was done, the kerchief magically disappeared.

  His eyes settled on Glo once more. When he spoke, his tone was almost jovial. “Very good, very good. Come on in.” Maltar motioned for him to follow.

  Glo was stunned. Maltar’s reaction was unfathomable. It was as if he had no regard for the life of his apprentice. Glo felt numb from head to toe. He woodenly obeyed the mage, as if watching his body from the outside as it stepped over the corpse of the fallen apprentice and followed Maltar into the hallway.

  Down the hall past the mage, Glo spied a man and woman in robes. Maltar called out to them, “Fliban’s gone and got himself killed. Go fetch the body from the foyer and bring it over to the temple. This young wizard will be over shortly with the money to raise him.”

  Maltar turned around and looked Glo in the eye. His tone was deceptively mild, but the intensity of his gaze was frightening. “You will raise him, won’t you?”

  Glo realized that he was being tested. Maltar’s crude display had caught him off-guard, but the old mage hadn’t totally written off his apprentice. The temple would have experienced clerics, ones that could restore the life of a recently departed soul. It was a spell of divine magic, commonly termed “Resurrect the Dead”. It was similar to what Aksel did with healing, but this spell required ingredients to cast—rather costly ingredients. Furthermore, there was no guarantee the spell would work. It greatly depended on the state of the body and the willingness of the spirit to return to the world of the living.

  Still, Maltar’s test was a no-brainer for Glo. If there was a chance to atone for his mistake, to pay for the hapless Fliban’s restoration, he would take it. It would cost quite a bit of money, but it was worth it. This was not some flesh-eating orc, bugbear, or undead creature. This was the life of a human being.

  Glo stared back at Maltar unflinching. “Of course. As soon as we are done here, I will get the money and bring it to the temple.”

  Maltar held his gaze for a moment more, then nodded with approval. “Very good. Now that that’s settled, we can get down to business.”

  The mage turned and led him into the parlor, the room in which they met yesterday. It was furnished with a long brown couch, a couple of red padded chairs, a coffee table, and two end tables on either side of the couch. Long red drapes framed the windows on the exterior walls. Maltar motioned Glo to have a seat on the couch. The mage unceremoniously plopped himself down in a padded chair across from him.

  “What can I do for you?” Maltar said.

  Glo cleared his throat, still not sure where to begin. He decided to just lay it all on the table and hope that Maltar’s good mood would make him amenable to their request. “I was with the group that procured that scroll for you yesterday.”

  “Yes, yes, I thought you looked familiar. Go on, go on.”

  “Well, at the ruins we ran into another wizard. He was the one who had possession of the scroll.”

  Maltar’s eyes narrowed. “Another wizard? Had possession of my scroll?”

  This was not going the way Glo had hoped. He needed to quickly allay Maltar’s concerns. “He’s dead now. He was a dark mage, and we had no choice but to dispatch him.”

  Maltar continued to stare at him. “Hmmm, you seem to have a habit of killing wizards, young elf.”

  Glo was not sure how to react. Maltar’s face was unreadable; he could not tell if the mage was getting angry. There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

  “Did you ever find out this dark mage’s name?”

  Glo was still nervous and the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Yes. His name was Telvar. He had taken up residence at the keep.”

  A smug smile crept across his Maltar’s face. “Telvar? That hack!” He paused a moment, then leaned forward. “And you killed him?”

  Glo smiled back wanly at the wizard. “Yes. He gave us little choice.”

  Maltar gave him an approving nod. “Good, good.” The mood in the room lightened considerably after that. “He was more of a nuisance than a wizard. He was always trying to compete with me, not that he could even come close, mind you. So, I don’t suppose you know what Telvar was up to in those old ruins, nor how he came across my scroll?”

  “Well…” Glo hesitated, deciding what to say. The mage looked pleased at the moment, and he did not want to say anything that would change his mood. “…we did find his laboratory. He appeared to be researching the process of golem creation, best we could tell.”

  Maltar raised an eyebrow. “Golem creation? Interesting. Go on.”

  “He also had two stone golems with him in the ruins.”

  Maltar stood up suddenly. “He had two stone golems?” The mage began to pace around the parlor. “Now how would that third rate hack come by stone golems?” Maltar whirled on Glo. “You did say two golems.”

  Glo nodded. Maltar was turning out to be quite an unpredictable character. His emotions vacillated wildly from one extreme to the other. Glo felt like he was walking on eggshells around this mage. Even his father, Amrod, was not this temperamental. He continued with the story, hoping his explanation would mollify the irascible wizard.

  “Yes. His notes indicated that he found the golems and their control items in the ruins. And although he was researching the golem creation process, there was no indication that he actually discovered how to make one on his own.”

  Maltar visibly relaxed. His shoulders dropped, and he stopped pacing. “Very good. That was a very thorough piece of investigating there.” He looked at Glo appraisingly for a few moments, then sat back down across from him. “So tell me, where are these two stone golems now?”

  Glo eyed the old mage carefully. “We had to destroy one of them.”

  Maltar’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You…destroyed…a stone golem?”

  Glo threw up his hands. “No, no, not me alone. It took the combined efforts of our entire party.”

  Maltar glared at Glo with suspicion. “Really? Your entire party?” Maltar pointed down at the floor. “The entire group that was here yesterday?”

  Glo’s nerves had returned, and the words spilled out quickly. “The four of us and the two mercenaries we hired to help us. They’re regulars around town.”

  Maltar shifted in his seat. He continued to stare at Glo as he digested what he had told him. After a long pause, he began to speak again.

  “I would know if there was anyone in this town who had the power to destroy a stone golem. Therefore, I can only assume that you and your companio
ns were primarily responsible for its demise. Though I will say, I am surprised.” The master wizard stared at Glo as if he saw him anew. “And the second golem?”

  Glo fumbled for the words. This was the tricky part. “Um, yes…that is the reason I am here. The other stone golem is still intact. However, it is stuck in a shaft between floors in the keep.”

  Maltar sat forward in his chair. “Come again?”

  Glo explained as quickly as he could. “We were in a pantry. There was a chute in one corner that led down to the basement. We figure it must have been a dumbwaiter for carting up food from storage. When the stone golem came after us, we all retreated down the chute and into the basement. Telvar ordered it to follow us, but the shaft narrowed farther down, and the golem got stuck.”

  Maltar eyes grew softer as he began to grasp the truth of the tale. Glo realized this next part was crucial. He needed to be very careful how he phrased it.

  “After Telvar’s demise, we found the control item for the second golem on him. We were thinking, if we could figure out the password to it and then free the golem, it might be handy to have around.” Glo watched the mage apprehensively, not sure how the man would react to his statement.

  Maltar sat back in his chair and seemed to consider his words. “Yes, yes, a construct like that could indeed come in handy. To free it, you would need a spell of Stone to Mud. Then to repair it, you would need a spell of Mud to Stone.”

  The mage sat forward again. “I can make up scrolls for you, but those are not cheap.” Maltar paused a moment as if to calculate the price in his mind. “It will cost you 4000 gold pieces each.”

  Glo nodded. “Understood.” The price was actually a bit steep, but there was nowhere else they were going to get them around here. Frankly, Glo was just relieved that the mage was willing to make the scrolls for them.

  Maltar got up from his chair. “Excellent.” He paused and looked down at Glo with those piercing eyes. “You are very to the point, young wizard. I can work with that. I seem to have an apprentice spot to fill at the moment. Tell me, would you be interested?”