Izaryle's Prison

by Levi Samuel

  Leandar crashed to the floor unsure of what had just happened. He jumped up, looking at his mead stained tunic. Visibly shaken, he dusted himself off and ran for the courtyard.

  Demetrix held strong, watching the arrogant prick scurry for the exit. Seeing him pass out of sight he crashed to the floor, letting his wounds overcome him.

  Staring at the missive, the path revealed itself as the words described. The moonlight revealed a perfect trail through the rocky outcropping. Carefully making his way down, Demetrix felt the molded rawhide around his leg. It rubbed the sensitive skin, chaffing terribly. Ignoring the discomfort he pressed on, pushing against his cane and selecting where he was going to step. In no time he reached the bottom, lost in the sight of the massive keep before him. How he hadn't seen it from the high rise was a mystery, but not one worthy of his attention. Approaching the outer wall, he froze, lost in the sight of the blue aura surrounding the man. “Wha—? How do you exist?” He knew they weren't true dalari, at least not in the manner he knew of them. But a rose by any other name remained a rose. This one had simply been taken apart and put back together. From the look on the guard's face, he had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Highlord Demetrix?”

  “That I am.”

  “Lady Senaria is expecting you. This way please.” The guard turned and stepped through the sealed barricade.

  Demetrix followed, too lost in the discovery of this nest to pay attention to the structures around him. How many are there? He felt like a child receiving presents for the first time. In this case it was the restoration of his race. Ravion did it. He found them! Unable to contain his smile he followed the man through the restored archway and into the courtyard. They were everywhere. Some trained with sword while others expressed themselves in art and music, learning their individuality. It was a wondrous sight to behold. Without realizing it he was already inside the keep.

  Making his way through the winding corridors, he was led to an upstairs reception hall. Taking a place at the end of a long table, he paused, awaiting his announcement. A woman stood, looking out the window at the far side of the room, her back to the door.

  “Highlord Demetrix Santail to see you, My Lady.” The guard bowed and left the room.

  Senaria turned, looking upon the young lord. He was several inches shorter than Ravion and had dark brown hair opposed to the red she longed to see once again. But his features held similar appearance. He, however, wasn't Ravion. “You said you had news of Ravion?” Senaria prompted, gesturing toward one of the chairs. She walked nearly half way across the room and took a seat not far from the one she'd suggested.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been staring, but judging from her expression he was making a fool of himself. Giving a slight bow, Demetrix collected his thoughts and took a seat. Reaching into his satchel he retrieved a sealed scroll and slid it across the table to her. “I thank you for seeing me. I must say this place is extremely difficult to locate without guidance. Well done on that.” Shifting to formal business, he took a deep breath and gestured to the sealed scroll. “As you already know, I’m Ravion’s brother. I regret to inform you that we underwent a trip not long ago. Sadly this was a trip Ravion will not be returning from.” He could see the pain in her eyes. She sat in silence, burying her feelings.

  “Is— Is he dead?” She adjusted in the wooden chair, wishing she could release the pain building inside her. It was the worst pain she could imagine. Yet there was hope.

  “He wasn’t when I last saw him, but I can’t say with certainty if that’s changed. As far as I’ve been told, he made the choice to stay behind.” A spark ignited behind her eyes.

  Senaria remained silent, listing to what he had to say. If Ravion chose to say, there was good reason for it. She would see him again even if she had to go to him.

  Allowing her a moment to process, Demetrix continued. “In addition to this news, I wished to inform you that you were named in his Will. It’s a little strange, exercising a man’s last testament before his passing, but in this case, it’s unlikely he’ll be returning.” He waited for her to unroll the scroll. “What you hold there is the deed to the lands of Krondar. He left its lordship to your care. I’ll assist you as best I can, but my time will also be needed in my own lands. Should you require anything, please send message to Marbayne. I’ll answer when duty permits.”

  She looked up from the document, studying his face. “We just met, why would you assist me?”

  Caught off guard by the question, Demetrix selected the best response. “My Lady, Ravion was my brother. I don't know how you two found each other, but in going through his things I learned that he was extremely fond of you. That piqued my interest. For that reason alone, I offer my support. But then I got here and I saw your people. Had I not felt obligated beforehand, I would now.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the statement.

  “I don't know what Ravion told you about our kind, and I don't wish to confuse you in any way but your people seem to have a strong connection to mine. Ravion must have seen this, which I'm sure had some part in his motives. Ravion aside, this explains my motives. If your people are indeed related to mine, and I believe they are, I'll do all I can to aid you.” Demetrix pushed himself up, steadying against the wooden supports. “My Lady Senaria, it’s been a privilege meeting you. I hope to share words again in the near future, but I'm afraid I must return to Marbayne. The attacks have moved fairly close to these parts. I'd prefer to reach Shadgull before nightfall.” Taking his own weight, he gave a final bow and turned, leaving her to her affairs.

  A gentle breeze blew across the forested courtyard. The clash of swords echoed through the trees, calm and precise.

  Demetrix limped his way down the line of soldiers looking upon their seemingly young faces. In truth his didn't appear much different, but he was beginning to feel his years. Stopping in front of a young girl, narrowly old enough to apply for the border wardens, he scanned her from head to toe, studying the blue glow radiating from her. “What's your name, recruit.”

  “Rayel Santail, sir!” The young scout stood amidst the row of eager warriors, each one ready to prove their worth. She wore a brown leather skirt and matching armor. Twin short swords hung from her sides and fiery red hair ran down her back.

  “Santail, huh? What brings you to Marbayne, Rayel?” Demetrix waited for her response, as he had the previous soldiers. This one was different. She claimed name. If she truly was who she claimed to be, there would certainly be a place for her. But he had to be sure.

  “I aim to better myself in the ways of battle in hopes of ascending the ranks so that I might fight by my uncle’s side.”

  “What’s your uncle’s name, recruit?” She looked up at the crippled archer, unsure if she should answer correctly. “Ravion, sir.” The assurance in her voice carried through the trees.

  “Very good, Rayel.” Turning, he stopped in front of the next recruit. Staring him in the eyes, he began again. “What’s your name, recruit?”

  “Perrin, sir.”

  “What’s your business here, Perrin?”

  “I hear this is the place to train in the ways of magic since the tower left, sir.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. Do you think you've got what it takes to be among the elite magi we have to offer?”

  “I do, sir!”

  “Very good, Perrin. We'll make a battlemage of you yet.” Demetrix went down the line, learning all the new recruit's names and faces. It helped know the men he led. Their deaths didn’t sting as bad when he could put a face with the list. Finishing his introductions he opened a wooden chest and pulled out a handful of black sigils. Each one had a white trident carved in the center. Tossing one to each of the recruits, he closed the chest and paced in front of them. “These mark you as an initiate in The Order. Have it with you at all times. With improvement you’ll receive a new badge and benefits. Let it be a beacon for you in times of need. Your brothers and sisters will always be
there for you, just as you’ll always be there for them. Wear it with pride. You’re dismissed.”

  The group broke up, disappearing to their various duties.

  “Rayel, might I have a minute?” He hobbled to the young scout. “What do you know of Ravion?”

  “Sadly, not much. I met him briefly before he had to go on some important mission. I was in Krondar not long ago and they hadn’t heard from him. Has he returned?”

  “Sadly, no. And he’s not expected to. Let me ask you this. I’ve known Ravion for a while now. He never mentioned anything about siblings. How do you tie in?”

  “My mother told me about him before she died. She said she thought he was dead. They got separated when they were little. Reputation of the Dreuslayers traveled to my homeland in West Korenthia. My mother suspected it was Ravion, but she couldn’t be sure. After she died, I tried to find my father and sister. A merchant told me he might have taken position at the tower, but it was gone before I arrived. Then I learned this was the birthplace of the Dreuslayers and I had to find out for myself. May I ask you a question?” She continued, refusing to wait for a response. “How do you tie in? I know you’re dalari. I can see your glow. Aside from you, and Ravion, I haven’t seen any others.”

  “It’s a long story full of many complications. Short form, my name is Demetrix Santail. Son to Marquel Santail and brother to Ravion and Alexzandra. This would make me your uncle as well. Walk with me and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  Demetrix stared out the window overlooking the bailey, and the city beyond. He watched the new recruits training against the dummies, recalling a simpler time. Lost in thought he didn’t hear the door open.

  “You spend an awful lot of time lookin’ out that window.”

  Hearing Gareth's voice he turned, finding the man sitting against the edge of the table. “It helps me think. I look down at the men and women striving to be better than they were the day before. I see hope. Hope for the future. Hope that we’ve made a difference. I see their faces, free of mar and regret from years of battle weighing heavily on the soul.”

  “I didn’t come here to listen to you unburden yourself. I came to give you a lead on your raiders.” Gareth pulled a dagger from his hip and began scraping dirt from beneath his fingernails.

  Demetrix chuckled at the warrior’s abruptness. “I enjoy these little chats. Won’t you take a seat and tell me all about it?” Forcing sarcasm into his words he limped toward his chair.

  “I’ve already got one.” Gareth smiled motioning at the table beneath him. Waiting a moment, ensuring his point was made, he stood and marched to his own seat. “I can’t prove it yet, but Erik has some hand in the attacks. I stopped by the pub in Shadgull last night.”

  “And by stopped you mean you stayed all night.”

  “I’m telling the damned story! Anyway, I was making my way upstairs with a fine young lass. When I passed by the back room, I saw Erik and his second— oh, what was his name? Jem.” Gareth raised his finger, denoting remembrance. “They were dressed in all black, talking to a guy about a special dagger. I couldn’t stay real long for fear of drawing too much attention—”

  “And by that you mean you were distracted by the girl you previously mentioned.” Demetrix suppressed a chuckle, seeing the irritation build in his friend.

  “Do you want to hear what saw or not?”

  “By all means.”

  “You sure? Cause I can keep it to myself. I’d hate to waste your time.”

  Sighing heavily Demetrix waved him on, all humor lost. “Please proceed.”

  “Where was I? Oh yeah, I didn’t wanna draw too much attention, but I know a deal when I see one. I did manage to see a drawing of the dagger before my entertainment drug me off. I knew I’d seen it somewhere before so I stopped by the vaults before coming here.” Gareth reached under his cloak and drew the thin, wavy dagger of black and purple. He extended it toward the ranger. Releasing it, it settled in Demetrix’s palm.

  Demetrix took the kris, examining the runes running along the blade. “You think this is what they’re after?”

  “I do. And if they’re willing to kill their own citizens for it, something tells me they’d stop at nothing to get it. I’d hate to see the aftermath if they learn we have it.”

  “I wonder what’s so important about it?”

  Gareth watched in earnest. “Ravion killed the nightking with it. I don’t know its history before he had it. Ravion said to lock it away and keep it safe. On his word alone we can’t risk Erik finding it.”

  “I remember small pieces of Lythus talking about the dagger. He wouldn't ever say much, but I could tell he was afraid of it. I’ll send for Perrin. He’s quickly making progress. Maybe he can tell us a little more.”

  “I’d express caution. We don’t know what this thing does or why he wants it so bad. Best I’ve been able to find was a report of a dagger that can grant unlimited power to its wielder.” Gareth stood reclaiming the mysterious blade. “I’ll return it to the vault until we have more answers.”

  A blinding light exploded, illuminated the room.

  Demetrix shielded his eyes, turning to see the source floating above the council table. “Gareth. Are you seeing this?”

  “Aye!”

  “Ravion?” Grabbing his cane Demetrix stood, stepping closer to the glowing silhouette. “Ravion?” There was no mistaking the face staring back at him, though he seemed darker than he recalled.

  The light grew wider forcing them to look away. It wrapped around, surrounding them in a warm embrace. They couldn’t see anything it was so bright.

  Hearing the commotion on the other side of the council room door, William approached. It wasn’t alarming, but it didn’t belong. Slowly reaching out, he pushed the door open and peeked into the seemingly abandoned chamber. “My Lord? Are you here? I just received word the Black Lotus were offered a sum of two thousand gold for your head.”

  A loud clap echoed out.

  William stepped into the room. He saw the wooden cane lying upon the floor. “Highlord Demetrix?” Making his way to the table, keeping his eyes open for any sign, he inspected the gnarled wood. A purple sheen caught his attention. Abandoning the worn cane he secured the wicked dagger lying beside it.

  William, claim me!

  Hearing the whispers in his mind, he felt a jolt shoot through his hand. Turning toward the door, dagger in fist, a purple glazed reflected in his eyes.

  The story will continue in Izaryle’s Key

  Be sure to stay up to date with the newest Eldarlands books at http://www.levisamuel.com

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  Author's Notes

  I'm going to risk making an ass out of myself and assume you've read Izaryle’s Will (Eldarlands – Heroes of Order Volume One) prior to stumbling upon this one. If you did, you should already know that the story started many years ago in the mystical lands of the Misted Hills. That's the name of the Springfield chapter of the Eldaraenth© Live Action Role Playing (LARP) game. I met some of my closest friends within that fantasy world contained upon that small farm north of town.

  We'd get dressed up in our finest garb (or whatever we were able to find/make that had a proper feel to it). We'd don a variety of weapons and armor, and we’d hop into the mindset of our various characters.

  Once there, the events of such an alluring and fantastic world shaped us in every conceivable way. We were the characters. Their actions were our own. We faced character rivalries, bandit attacks, and hundreds of other scenarios that could have arisen in any fantasy setting.

  I'd be lying if I said we never instigated said problems, depending on what I felt was needed at the time. On more than one occasion my friends and I would find out what the primary group of adventurers was after for any particular encounter. We'd track down their objectives and, depending on what we felt was best, we'd either make it easier or harder for them. There was one event in particular where the adventurers found th
emselves in needed of the hammer of a specific dwarf character. They weren't the most political of bands and we knew they would simply kill the dwarf and take the hammer. So, we did what was right. We tracked the group, created some obstacles, and slowed their progression so we could get a few steps ahead. We then found the dwarf and proceeded to spend the remainder of the weekend protecting him all in the aim of preserving his life. With minutes to spare, and the supposed heroes nearly defeated, we delivered the dwarf where he was needed and completed the main objective. He happily performed the forging that was required of his hammer. And considering he wouldn’t have given up his tool, even if it cost him his life, we created tension for the heroes, and entertained ourselves along the way.

  We weren't always the good guys, but we were never the bad guys, at least not to our own perspectives. Every action we took, good or questionable, was for the sole purpose of protecting the world we'd all grown to love. But this series of books is not directly related to the game world. It’s simply inspired by a few of the more interesting characters. This series is its own world. The events here-in were created my me, in my imagination, and should not be confused with the details that occurred in the Eldaraenth world.

  I released this trilogy of books once before, in October of 2016 at a small convention in Evansville, Indiana. The staff and guests of Tri-Con feel like family. I was happy to have been accepted into their ranks, and grateful they allowed me the opportunity to release my book there. I managed to nearly sell out, which is always a goal I strive for. Most of the time I succeed, but on occasion I bring a few books home. I'm extremely grateful that so many have believed in me enough to read my work. Though I’m aware that most of you are here for the story rather than me. And I’m okay with that fact. I enjoy writing. Having readers is more than enough reward.