by F. P. Spirit
Elladan shook his head as well. “Sorry, darling, but I think our dragon girl friend needs the bed more than me right now.”
The blue elven woman raised an eyebrow. “Oh, good. May I please her, then?”
“No!” came simultaneous shouts from almost everyone in the room.
The blue elf began to pout, but then stopped, a smile returning to her face almost immediately. “Very well then. Ring me if you need me.”
With that, the elven woman spun on her heel, and strode seductively back into the closet, the door sliding closed behind her.
Aksel, silent this entire time, finally spoke. “Okay then, how about we move on to the next room.”
The companions slowly filed out the door. Elladan gave one last look over his shoulder. “I still can’t believe she isn’t real.”
Donnie gave his friend a wry smile. “That didn’t seem to stop Larketh.”
“What didn’t stop Larketh?” Alana asked from her seat on the couch, the lady knight’s head tilted curiously to one side.
Elistra slowly shook her head, a look of revulsion on her face. “You don’t want to know.”
The lady knight arched an eyebrow. “That bad?”
The seeress nodded. “That bad.”
The companions explored the library next. This circular room had a long table down the middle, and two huge curved bookshelves on either side, each reaching from the floor to the ceiling. Those shelves were packed from end to end with bound texts of all sizes and shapes. Lloyd, Glo, Elistra, Aksel, Elladan and Donnie split up, examining each shelf thoroughly. There were nearly a thousand texts here, many of them quite ancient, yet very well preserved, as if untouched by time.
Glo had explored a few shelves, when a particularly ornate binding caught his eye. He gingerly pulled that volume off the shelf and cracked it open, his eyes going wide.
Elistra, another book in her hand, must have seen the look on his face. The seeress strode over and gazed questioningly at the volume he was holding. “What is it?”
Glo responded in a hushed tone. “It’s a history of the Titans.”
Lloyd, Aksel, Elladan, and Donnie came over as well. Donnie let out a soft whistle. “That text must be priceless.”
Aksel shifted his gaze from the volume to the others, and nodded his head, his lips tight together. “This is an impressive find. Still, it’s not what we came for.”
Aksel was correct, of course. They had come in search of the golem master’s secrets, not a history book on the Titans. Glo flushed with embarrassment, swiftly closing the book and holding it out to Elladan.
“Can you hang onto this for safekeeping?”
“Certainly,” Elladan said with a sympathetic smile, taking the book and placing it gingerly in his portal bag.
The six of them explored the rest of the shelves, but found no works that contained the golem master’s secrets. Mentally exhausted, they moved onto the last room. This last chamber was most definitely Larketh’s study. A large ornate cherry wood desk sat in the very center of the room, with a single plush chair behind it. There was yet another bookshelf behind the desk, and a large painting of a dwarf off to one side.
The dwarf in that portrait was a rather imposing figure, with long red hair, a well-groomed mustache, and a long, neatly braided red beard. He wore black robes, and held a large tome in his left hand with the same symbol on it they had found on that dais at the top of the monolith. In his other hand, the figure held a golden staff. Glo’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He immediately envisioned the huge Dwarven statue he had seen in his nightmare—this portrait was frighteningly similar.
“So I’m guessing that’s Larketh?” Lloyd said, scratching the back of his head as he gazed at the portrait.
Aksel responded with a short nod. “More than likely.”
“Well, if he’s still alive, at least we know what he looks like,” Elladan said with a half-smile.
“Unless he was reincarnated,” Donnie added with a wry smile of his own.
Elladan peered at the slight elf, and let out a short laugh. “Yeah. He could be a kobald.”
Glo snorted. He didn’t know if he was just tired, but somehow the idea of someone reincarnating into a sprite-like creature such as a kobald struck him as funny at that moment.
Aksel tore his eyes away from the imposing portrait and gazed at Elistra questioningly. “You wouldn’t happen to have any insight on Larketh’s state of being, would you?”
The seeress responded with a slow shake of her head. “I have no idea whether Larketh actually died, or is still alive somewhere.” She shifted her gaze to Elladan, an impish smile on her lips. “…let alone if he has been reincarnated into a kobald.”
“I thought you knew everything about the Thrall Masters,” Elladan replied with a mischevious grin of his own.
Elistra pretended to be insulted, arching a delicate eyebrow and glaring at the bard with mock anger. She responded in a lofty tone. “Compared to most.”
“Ahem,” Aksel cleared his throat, drawing all eyes back to him. “Fun as this is, can we get back to searching this room?”
Elistra and Elladan both laughed. “Of course,” they responded in unision.
Donnie made a thorough sweep of the room, in the end finding a section of the bookshelf that swung open with a hidden panel behind it. That panel slid open to reveal two large, ornate chests, both locked. Donnie picked lock on the first chest and lifted the heavy lid. This chest was lined with gold pieces just like the one they had found in the bedroom.
Laid carefully on top of that pile of gold, was a pair of jet black armbands with filigree carvings, made of similar material to Lloyd’s sword. Next to the armbands lay a silver-plated scabbard, decorated with polished black gemstones, a pair of red leather gloves with black striations, and a small flask of white liquid. The only items that turned out to be magical were the gloves, and the potion in the flask. The gloves carried the ability to disrupt spells. The flask, unfortunately, was not a potion which would cure poison.
Donnie eyed the gloves with keen interest. His eyes swept across the group as he asked, “May I have those? You never know when something like that might come in handy.”
Aksel pursed his lips and nodded. No one else seemed to have any objections, so Glo handed the gloves over to the slight elf. Donnie immediately removed his brown leather gloves, and put these on instead. He held up his arm and twisted his hand around in a circle, grinning at the others. “Stylish, don’t you think?”
“Red’s not exactly my color,” Elladan replied, running a hand over his own nearly all-white outfit.
Glo could not help smiling at the duo’s cavalier attitude. Neither elf seemed to have a problem with being flamboyant. Donnie gave Elladan a grin, then returned his attention to the second chest. The others held their breath as the slight elf picked the lock and pushed it open. This chest was also lined with gold, a number of precious items sitting on top of the pile of coins. There was a carnelian gemstone, a glowing fire opal, a life-sized darkwood cat sculpture with yellow topaz eyes, a carved darkwood harp with ivory inlay and zircon gems, and a ten-inch wand of rotted wood.
Though a very expensive find, the chest did not contain what the companions were looking for. Glolinder was crestfallen—the elven wizard hung his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “No tome.”
Glo felt a soft hand on his arm. He turned and saw Elistra standing by his side, both disappointment and sympathy playing across her features.
“No tome,” the seeress repeated, her tone subdued as well. Glo wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders, and pulled her to his side, the two of them silently consoling each other.
Aksel, true to form, managed to find the silver lining in this disappointing turn of events. “Well... at least we know no one else will find it in here.”
&n
bsp; Elladan tried to lighten the mood as well. “Of course, there’s still that colossus upstairs.” He pointed a thumb upwards. “Just imagine if the Serpent Cult got their hands on that thing.”
Glo peered at the bard, Elladan flashing him a pearly smile. Glo felt a smile slowly crease his face—Elladan was right, of course, they had found the colossus. Keeping that out of the hands of the cultists was paramount. Feeling a bit more positive, Glo shifted his eyes from Elladan to Aksel. “You’re both right. We accomplished what we set out to do—keep Larketh’s works out of the hands of the Serpent Cult. Who knew that work would be so large?”
Everyone shared a good laugh, his comment releasing the tension they all had been feeling. Afterwards, Elladan placed all that they had found in his portal bag. The six of them left the study behind, rejoining Alana and Ruka in the living room. The young teen, now wide awake, sat on the couch rubbing her hands together.
“So what did you find?”
Donnie plopped down on the couch between the two women, and detailed to them all they had discovered. Ruka’s eyes widened with each treasure he described, but Alana appeared as disappointed as the rest of them had been. The lady knight turned her eyes from Donnie to Aksel.
“No tomes?”
Aksel shook his head, returning her gaze with sympathy. “No tomes, but as Elladan pointed out, we do have a rather large golem on our side.”
Alana’s face brightened markedly at the thought.
Aksel swept his gaze across the group, his eyes finally coming to rest on Ruka. “Well then, that’s that. Let’s all rest up. It has been a long day, and some of us should still be sleeping.”
Ruka gave him a dark stare as she snuggled on the couch between Donnie and Alana. “Not tired at all,” she declared, an unexpected yawn escaping her mouth. Her head sank down onto Donnie’s shoulder, her eyes getting quite heavy. “And you’re not my mother…” she added, her voice fading as she drifted off to sleep.
Glo grasped Elistra around the waist and shared a smile with the seeress, the two of them gazing fondly at the young teen. She seemed remarkably content for a poisoned young dragon.
Outside the monolith, it was close to midnight. The moon had risen over the treetops, the forest bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The fire had died down in the Knights of the Rose camp, the night still as Martan stood watch at the edge of the forest. Most of the encampment had bedded down for the night, only Martan and a few other sentries standing guard over the clearing. The archer spun around and glanced up at the tall monolith in the center of the glade, its dark frame glistening in the moonlight, framed against the backdrop of the black, starlit sky.
Most of the companions were still inside that structure—there had been no sign of them since Glo, Donnie and Ruka had shown up around midday, with the exception of Seth. Martan had not seen the halfling, only hearing about his visit afterward from Sir Craven. Martan sincerely hoped that Seth could track the black mage to the Serpent Cult’s headquarters. If anyone could, he was sure it would be Seth.
Martan sighed as he shifted his gaze back to the camp. The fortifications had been finished, ringing in the area with a spike-pitched wooden fence. Inside the fence, smaller tents formed a ring around a single large tent, the one which housed Sir Craven.
The tent nearest to Martan belonged to the squires, Syndir and Lamorn, who the archer had befriended over these last two days. The lads were bright and full of zeal, but they were young and less aloof than the Knights of the Rose. Martan found them far more down to earth and easy to talk to. The boys seemed to like the archer as well. They appeared impressed with his wood tracking skills and his expertise with a bow.
Martan smiled to himself as he turned back toward the forest. The woods around him remained quiet, the only sound coming from the company’s horses tied to a makeshift hitching post only a few yards away. The scene would have been idyllic if the surrounding woods weren’t so dark and oppressive.
Hence the name Darkwoods, Martan thought wryly.
The wind kicked up, a sharp breeze flowing in from the east. Martan shivered slightly at the sudden chill. It felt like a storm was rolling in. He peered up into the sky, but there was not a cloud to be seen.
Strange.
Martan looked away just a moment too soon, barely missing the dark shadow that passed over the nearly-full moon in the night sky above.
Here ends Book Three of
the Heroes of Ravenford
the story continues in Book Four
Princess of Lanfor
Also by F.P. Spirit
The Heroes of Ravenford
Book 1 | Ruins on Stone Hill
Book 2 | Serpent Cult
Book 3 | Dark Monolith
Book 4 | Princess of Lanfor
About the Author
F.P. Spirit has always loved fantasy. From the moment he received his very first copy of Lord of the Rings back in high school, he was hooked. Today, somewhere between work and family, F. P. manages to write sword and sorcery fantasy fiction.
His novels, Ruins on Stone Hill, Serpent Cult and Dark Monolith, are the first three books in the series Heroes of Ravenford. The series chronicles the adventures of a band of young heroes in the dangerous world of Thac.
You can learn more about F.P. Spirit by visiting his website.
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