by Jake Adler
“NEVER!” Ethan yelled with a rage that he found surprising. He felt the presence in the spirit ring stir in response to his anger.
“That was never agreed. We spoke of chores, not possessions.” Master Bedwyr responded with a menacing tone.
For the first time, Garagor looked disturbed and shifted his gait. After a short pause he spoke, “I can see that the ring has sentimental value.”
“We will never part with any of our rings.” Master Bedwyr cut in quickly.
Garagor frowned in displeasure, then gestured toward the young man to return Ethan’s short sword, which he tossed towards Ethan with a laugh.
“We shall talk again,” Garagor warned as he spun around to return to the shadows, closely followed by the young man.
Master Bedwyr’s eyes swept the darkness before them. Although they were in the heart of the first encampment, most of the travelers were curiously absent. After a few moments, the travelers began to reappear, signaling that all was clear.
“We must leave this place.” Ethan mumbled while spitting out a mouthful of blood.
“They will not allow that to happen.” Master Bedwyr replied who then sat down next to the fire. He motioned them to join him, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “We have inadvertently revealed that our rings possess a value beyond their initial financial worth. He will want to find an ‘honourable’ way of claiming them.”
“Why not just tell them that we are members of the College of Mages?” Cara asked who was anxiously fiddling with her ring.
Master Bedwyr leaned forward, “I had hoped that we could maintain our anonymity. Mages in the caravan would lead to gossip in the next town we visit. However, I fear now that such gossip is unavoidable.”
Ethan’s mood had darkened considerably, “If he tries anything I will use the ring against him.”
Master Bedwyr sighed and nodded sadly, “I fear that may happen. He will not allow us to leave with our rings. That much is certain.”
Ethan stared at the Grand Mage in surprise. He had expected him to attempt to dissuade him in his course of action. His agreement indicated that their situation was very dire. For the remainder of the evening, they ate their meal of beans and bread in silence. Both Ethan and Cara remained vigilant of the movements of the travelers, who now maintained a considerable distance between them. Master Bedwyr had spent the entire evening leaning over his book, his lips working silently.
As the evening drew to a close, Ethan spoke, “Should one of us stand watch?”
The Grand Mage shook his head. “He will prefer to use guile for the time being rather than direct force. He must be seen by the others as being the ‘honourable’ owner of our rings.”
Ethan looked desperate, “If we leave tomorrow, we will owe him much less, perhaps if you give him the hundred cinterns remaining we could just go?”
Master Bedwyr’s gazed sadly at Ethan, “I suspect now that had he noticed that we had our spirit rings from the very beginning. If we left, now, he would have the perfect opportunity to send out his mercenaries ahead of the caravan and take them from us directly. It is safer for us to remain within the caravan.”
Ethan’s voice hardened, “We can’t continue like this. I would prefer that we took our chances at running or stay and fight.” His eyes flashed with anger, “If I have to learn to use magic to protect us then now is as good a time as any.”
“I agree.” Cara agreed as her expression turned dark.
Cara’s interjection had taken the Grand Mage by complete surprise. He studied them both wordlessly for a moment with a growing realization that both of them had already established a powerful bond with their spirit ring. This boded well for their future development as powerful magi. Their rings offered them knowledge, power and abilities beyond their wildest imaginations. They were their most trusted shield, weapon and constant companion that would support them over the difficult times that lay ahead.
At last he spoke, “Then we must prepare ourselves for the morrow. Know this, that once we make our stand, we must leave the caravan, bypass Jaktet and move directly to Fort Varok,” he gazed at them sternly, “do you agree to this plan?”
They both nodded their heads solemnly. “Then let us discuss both words of magic and strategy for the morrow,” he said and they huddled together around the dying embers of their evening fire to ready themselves for the dawn.
* * * *
Delabo straightened in his chair, “Then it’s completed?” he squinted up at Captain Vanimar of the 2nd Light Infantry.
“Yes my Lord,” he replied, staring at Delabo without expression.
“Were any prisoners taken?”
“We have three hundred and fifteen trainee mages in the city’s dungeons. We have, on your orders, executed all the elder mages.”
Delabo leaned forward and smiled, “Good. I want a full written report by noon today.” He waved his hands dismissively, “you may leave.”
It was done. The majority of the College of Mages had been razed to the ground. On the command of GraJin, Delabo had ordered that the library be spared. This was to enable GraJin’s minions to secretly plunder its secrets once all the people on the island had been forcibly evicted.
Instinctively, Delabo reached inside his tunic to grasp the necklace around his neck. The black stone attached to its golden chain now throbbed in perfect unison with his every heartbeat. For days now, he had felt the essence of himself slowly draining away. With each rhythmic pounding, the world seemed to be fading further away
He was dying. He was certain of that now. He sensed the presence of GraJin growing stronger. It shifted inside him like a man trying on a new suit. He was powerless to stop it now and knew that it was only a matter of time until he was taken over completely and forever. For a brief moment, a feeling of great sadness descended upon him as he wished for a return to the days when he was merely a Councilor of Ellington. He may not have been the grand ruler, but at least he had a life to look forward to. Now, he was nothing more than a dying puppet.
His sensed movement in the corner of the room as Yariq emerged from its shadows. “You have done well.” It said, gliding across the floor, its robes barely touching the floor.
“What next?” Delabo asked hesitantly as he rose from his chair to face the creature.
“Your body is not coping well.” Yariq remarked who then made a strange clicking sound.
Delabo went rigid with these words, a trapped look on his face. “I – I have been unwell these past few days,” he stammered.
“It will soon be noticed by others.” Yariq added coldly.
With an effort, Delabo stated confidently, “If you release me from this necklace, I will get better.” His flimsy resolve suddenly crumbled to be replaced by a look of desperation as he dropped to his knees, “Please, I beg you! I don’t want to die!”
“Everybody has to die sometime.” Yariq rasped mysteriously. The creature remained silent for a long while, as if listening to someone. Finally, it spoke. “It is the battle for ownership of your body that is damaging it,” it moved in a little closer, “it will return to health once the battle is over,” again, it moved in closer.
Delabo froze in terror as he stared into the shaded cowl of his executioner. It was so close to him now that he could finally makes out its facial features within its deep recesses. It possessed large bulbous black eyes and a row of savage sharp teeth within a grey skinned face that looked similar to that of a bull frog. “Everybody has to die sometime,” it rasped again, sniggering as it punched a shadowy claw deep inside his ribcage to rip out the last remaining tendril that attached his soul to his body.
Chapter 10
The first group of engineer reports had arrived back. So far, there was no visual evidence of excavation within a perimeter mile of the city. However, the engineers warned that if the mines ran significantly deep enough, that they would be difficult to identify without using more invasive surveying techniques. There was also the open question regarding the
city’s sewerage systems. So far, the second group of engineers had failed to respond and were now presumed missing in action.
Jarl Egill paced the floor anxiously, “How many men are down there?” he asked Commander Haugen.
“There are two engineers and ten soldiers in the sewers. They are now considered missing in action.”
“I want a guard placed at every entry point into the sewers!” Jarl Egill ordered sharply.
“We must assume that the enemy is already beneath the city.” Stated Baxan, to which a wave of nervous chatter then erupted from within the War Room.
“Silence!” Egill barked.
“If they are already here, an invasion is now imminent.” Baxan spoke quietly and the War Room fell into a shocked silence.
After a long pause, the now ashen faced Jarl spoke, “What are your suggestions?”
“I have examined the plans further,” Baxan replied as he squinted at the drawings, “there are two specific geographical formations nearby which can be blasted to redirect an underground river into the sewers.”
“You mean to flood them to drown the enemy?”
“Correct.” Baxan responded with a broad grin, “This new location serves us better as all the majority of the tunnels from that point forward will then be flooded.”
“What about the city’s foundations?” Commander Haugen cut in quickly.
“The location I’ve identified is some nine hundred yards outside the main outer wall.” Baxan replied, “You may have to fight the remaining enemy closer to this point, but they will have no ability to call upon reinforcements.”
“So this gives us a fighting chance?” Commander Haugen asked quietly.
“Without this you will be annihilated.” Baxan grimaced.
Jarl Egill bristled, “Tell me what you need.”
“Stealth is the only way that this can be achieved. I will use Ragni’s Elven locket for stealth. I need to get down there now and plant those devices. There is no time for your Axcil Binnadan character to arrive. An attack is imminent,” his eyes narrowed, “the devices will be placed on a short timer, but once used, have your army ready. The remaining enemy beneath your city will be forced up and will fight their way out.”
“What of our citizens?” Egill asked.
“I shall move them into the main church within the barracks. They should be safe there.” Commander Haugen replied confidently.
Jetzan stepped forward, “You will require help carrying all those explosives.”
“Aye.” Added Gizurr and to which Ragni nodded his head in agreement. Baxan’s eyes moistened. Their likelihood of returning alive from such a mission was extremely remote.
The Jarl quickly gave his consent and preparations were quickly made to move the citizens of the city inside the church. The companions were asked to accompany Jarl Egill to the Royal treasury along with Commander Haugen who had been ordered to accompany them on their mission. Upon arrival, they found that it housed many rare antiquities and Jetzan swiftly identified four more rare Bedazzler lockets, similar to Ragni’s. Repeating his earlier Elven incantations, he activated each locket and handed one to each of the companions, saving the final locket for himself.
Their final stop was the city’s Armoury Museum. It was an enormous building located in the heart of the city centre and famed as housing the most comprehensive collection of ancient weaponry and armour in all of Nemedia. Inside was a vast array of items, both Dwarven in origin and from other races of vanquished foes from a bygone age.
Jetzan and Baxan identified a full set of heavy dark green Orcish armour which looked virtually identical to that which Jetzan had used earlier. Their helmets possessed a full length visor, which would disguise their faces and true racial heritage. The three Dwarven members of the group were also able to fully equip themselves with an entire set of Goblin armour. Goblin armour was also dark green in colour, but its plates were smaller with broader meshes of black chain mail in between for added manoeuvrability.
To complete their look, the weapons that they chose matched the racial origins of their armour, save for the two handed sword which Gizurr insisted on keeping.
After checking and double-checking their backpacks had the correct amount of explosive devices, fuses and timers and finalizing the awareness of all the group of where and how to place the devices, should Baxan be killed in action, the companions were finally set.
The army of Takrak maintained a state of high alert. Earlier that day, a regiment of soldiers had been tasked with the mission of closing off the many hundred of smaller one-man access holes peppering the city with fast drying concrete, finalizing the act of making the exits impenetrable by strategically placing heavy-laden wagons on top of each floor panel. Bubbling vats of oil were now also located above every remaining larger sewerage access point, with a platoon of archers at the ready to light its contents. There were only a small number of these larger access points within the city. The strategy was to confuse the enemy in limiting their use of just a handful of remaining exits. This would channel their sizeable numbers into a relatively small area, thereby reducing their ability to both move and fight.
The daylight was rapidly fading as the group gingerly approached one of the remaining access areas. From the shadows, the figures of many Dwarven soldiers could be seen shifting both on the ground and the upper ramparts of the city, their movements now watched closely by an army on high alert.
Jetzan was grateful that Baxan had the presence of mind to bring along with him a pungent ointment, layered with lavender. He offered round to pot to each of the group to rub around their nostrils. This would enable their travels within the sewerage systems to be more bearable. At their current point of access, they were entering a main rainwater drain, but they would very soon branch off this drain into the main sewerage section of the city’s wastes, on their journey southwards towards their first geological fault where they were to lay their first explosive device.
“May great Thor keep you safe,” said Jarl Egill solemnly, grabbing the shoulders of Commander Haugen and pulling him into a powerful bear hug. The Jarl hugged each of the companions in turn and then spoke, “I pray that you will return safely.”
An approving rush of whispers could be heard from soldiers that surrounded them as they slowly made their way down into the city’s murky depths.
* * * *
The morning was unusually bright and cheery as Ellaminva glanced outside the cabin window. It was still early dawn and she could hear the distant thundering waters of the Kalapel. She realised that she was eager to see Axcil again and hurried to find a mirror and wash basin to tidy up her appearance before breakfast. She could hear sounds coming from the main cabin and smelled the welcoming scent of fried bacon. Her stomach gave a spasm in response and she realised that she was famished.
Having briefly refreshed her face and fixed her hair she entered the main cabin to find the adjacent inner door to the barn wide open. Vank’s head and entire neck was firmly pushed through the door as he merrily chomped down on the contents of a high stack of fried bacon along with several plates of eggs and beans. For added bulk Axcil had handed him four entire loaves of bread, which he was now energetically dipping into his hill of beans.
“Is it good?” she asked as her eyes twinkled at her friend.
“Oh yes!” Vank replied with his cheeks bulging.
“Now it’s your turn.” Axcil smiled, gesturing towards the table.
After a hearty breakfast upon which Axcil received many compliments, Ellaminva offered to head outside to gather some water to wash the mound of dishes and pans that had accumulated. On her way back from completing the task she noticed a man on horseback that was moving towards their position from the other side of the river. He would arrive there within moments and with this knowledge she shouted a word of warning as she sprinted back towards the cabin.
Axcil grabbed quickly grabbed hold of his sword and ran outside. For safety, he ordered both Ellaminva and Vank to
remain out of sight. Ellaminva did as she was asked, opening one of the ground floor windows to aim her bow out of it to offer Axcil some added protection. Vank’s head had disappeared from the main cabin he was most likely keeping a keen eye on the visitor from a good external vantage point near to the barn.
Before the man had reached the other side of bridge, Axcil’s demeanor had visibly relaxed. “It’s fine, he’s a messenger from Takrak,” he shouted back towards the cabin.
Axcil strode forward at great speed to meet with him. They both exchanged words quickly and the messenger nodded at something and the immediately departed. Axcil returned to the cabin, his expression dark.
Ellaminva gave him a questioning look, remaining silent to give him time to gather his troubled thoughts. Finally he spoke, “This is where we must part ways.”
“How can you say that?”
He brushed aside the question stiffly, “There is an invasion imminent at Takrak. I am needed,” he quickly grabbed her hand, “please, be safe and go home.” His touch made her face redden and she started to lean in towards him. He responded with a startled expression and swiftly moved away.
Ellaminva suddenly felt angry, “Do you think so little of me?”
“What do you mean?”
She moved towards him again to gaze into his deep green eyes, “I happen to find you incredibly attractive. There, I said it.”
He blinked at her in surprise. Before he had time to respond, she had looped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her to kiss him on the mouth. For a few moments, his body stood rigid then it relaxed, as he responded to her kiss.
“There,” she breathed, “now that wasn’t so difficult was it?”
He wrenched himself away and started to pace, gingerly touching his lips that still felt hot with the burning sensation of desire. “We hardly know each other!” He threw his hands up in exasperation.
