“What?” was all Torhan could say.
“My name is Grappin, and it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Torhan glanced at the painting again.
“Are you okay?”
Torhan nodded.
“Please come with me. There’s much to discuss.”
Torhan glanced one more time at the painting to make sure the figure wasn’t moving before he was led to the west wing of the mansion and into a room with several sofas and chairs. Thinking this was where they were going to stay, he was about to sit down when the masked stranger told him not to.
Meanwhile, Grappin walked to the back of the room and waved his hand at the wall. A few seconds later, a secret door slid open, revealing a lit corridor. They followed the lengthy passageway until they entered a well-lit room that was twice as large as the last one. In the middle of the room was an oak table with enough chairs to seat twelve. Above the table were two chandeliers dangling from the ceiling with many lit candles. Hanging on the walls to his left and right were self-portraits of Grappin, and in the very front of the room, to the left of the fireplace, were seven pedestals with objects encased in glass on top.
Grappin seated himself at the head of the table; his masked man was seated to his left, and the Hurnols on the other side of him. Torhan was asked to sit opposite of Grappin. Torhan’s attention was drawn toward the pictures. They portrayed Grappin wearing distinct pieces of armor, in both style and color, throughout different stages of his life. The one that looked like the man seated at the head of the table was by far the most disturbing one of all. It wasn’t his bloodstained armor with bloody organs hanging off of it, or the barbed spear with the dead child squirming, or even the head of some hideous looking creature in his left hand. It was his eyes that made him look malevolent; there was something very strange about them.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when two human servant girls entered the room carrying a few decanters. While they were being served, Torhan gazed at the pedestals with the tiny plaques that were far too small to read from where he sat. On top of the first plinth to his left sat a little black cubical box with strange letters on the sides. The next pillar had a glass canister with purplish liquid inside. He could only image what it was. A gold trimmed book with strange writing etched across the length of the tome, was on top of the third stand. On the fourth pillar rested a square-shaped talisman with four precious gems mysteriously suspended inside. He thought there had to be something holding them in place. Next to that was a silver dagger with something written down the blade. On top of the sixth pillar was a golden pin, and, finally, on the last stand was a black onyx pearl.
Grappin noticed that his guest was fixated on his items. He cleared his throat and spoke. “After we finish our meal, feel free to examine some of my most precious items.”
Torhan nodded. Once everyone was served and their goblets were overflowing with wine, Grappin lifted his silver chalice and finished the contents in one gulp, then slammed the cup down, waiting for it to be refilled. After the servant complied, he looked directly at Torhan.
“By now I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” He began, “It’s because one of my most treasured and fascinating items has gone missing, and my dear friend Tomal was killed. Do you know what item I am referring to?”
“No,” Torhan replied and knew that it was a mistake the moment the word left his mouth.
“You do have the item that I am referring to, don’t you?”
Torhan was afraid to answer.
“I’ll ask you again. Do you have my item?” Grappin’s voice raised a few decibels.
Torhan shook his head. Grappin smiled and nodded toward one of his guards. The Hurnol closest to him responded by getting up, grabbing his ax, and slowly moving toward Torhan. Fearful for his life, Torhan stood up, drew his sword, and faced the advancing bodyguard. At the same time, the scabbard under his tunic began glowing brightly for all to see.
“Well, well, well. You don’t have it, huh,” Grappin said sarcastically and called off his guard with a minor wave of his hand. “Sit down!” he commanded, and Torhan sheathed his blade and did so. After he was seated, the scabbard’s glow diminished. “So you’re a common thief and a murderer.”
“I’m neither,” Torhan answered.
“Then explain to me how both happened, and maybe I’ll let you live.”
Torhan straightened and explained exactly what took place after he entered Tomal’s store, and after he was finished, he waited for Grappin to respond.
“You tell a compelling story. However, the facts are that Tomal is dead, the artifact is in your possession, and I never heard of this Molech person. So what am I supposed to do?” Torhan was about to explain further but stopped when Grappin stared directly into his eyes, causing shivers up and down his spine. “Normally, I’d kill such an individual as you for doing what you did, but I’ve chosen to make you a deal instead. If you complete a task for me, not only will I let you live, and forgive you for what you did, but you can also keep the relic.”
Torhan thought briefly about refusing his offer and fighting his way out of this place, but then remembered how easily the masked stranger relieved him of his weapon.
“Do we have an agreement?” Grappin pressed.
“What do I have to do?” Torhan answered flatly.
“In the nearby town of Mirkin, there is a dangerous antagonist of mine, a priest named Abiathar. I want you to find and disable the wards that are protecting his church.”
“What has he done?”
“Let’s just say he’s done some horrific atrocities against me and my family.”
“Am I supposed to kill him?”
Grappin smiled. “That would be nice.”
“So that’s it? Disable the wards and return here?”
“I also want the rare beads he wears around his waist as proof that you went there.”
“How do I get them?”
“How you get the beads is up to you.”
“Are these wards keeping you out?”
“Who said anything about keeping me out?”
“Then what are they protecting?”
“That’s none of your concern.” Grappin took a long drink of his wine.
“Do you know where the source of the wards is?”
“The mechanism is hidden somewhere inside of the church.”
“What if I can’t shut them down?”
“Let’s just say you won’t like the outcome. Do you have any other questions?” Torhan shook his head. “Good. I’ll grant you two moon’s time to carry out your mission. If you do not complete the task in that amount of time then my associate,” Grappin paused, and glanced at the masked man and then back at Torhan, “will pay you a visit, and this time it won’t be to save you from a handful of guards.”
Torhan knew precisely what he meant and swallowed hard.
“Do I make myself clear?”
Torhan nodded.
“Would you like to see how the artifact really works?” Grappin announced.
“I thought that I knew?”
“You only know about one of its powers. Place the scabbard in plain view.”
Patiently, they waited until Torhan finished wrapping the item around the outside of the tunic, then Grappin signaled the same Hurnol to attack. The guard quickly got up and ran toward Torhan with his ax high in the air. Before Torhan had a chance to react, the scabbard glowed brightly and the dagger freed itself and attacked the advancing guard. The volley between beast and blade lasted only a couple of seconds as the dagger stabbed and sliced him until he lost so much blood that he became weak-legged and fell upon his knees, gasping for air. The goat creature made one last feeble attempt at Torhan and was stabbed in the head by the dagger. Torhan felt sorry for his assailant, not because his life ended, but because he never had a choice in the matter. The dagger returned to the scabbard, to Torhan’s surprise, and the glow ceased seconds later. Everyone in the room, ex
cept for Grappin, was astonished by what took place.
“Now you owe me for the life of my guard,” Grappin said and laughed insanely. “Keep in mind that if you lose the dagger, simply put another one in and it will become enchanted.”
The remaining Hurnol and the masked man got up and removed the lifeless body, leaving Grappin and Torhan alone for the first time. Grappin waited until they were gone before turning his attention back toward his guest.
“Torhan, you have two choices,” he began. “You could leave tonight and take your chances in the town, which by now will be under curfew, or you could stay here and enjoy my hospitality until I ask you to leave.”
“I suppose it would be wise to stay here.”
“Good choice,” Grappin said and clapped his hands. A few seconds later, several of the most beautiful, scantily clad women walked in. They carried enough food and drink for ten people, then placed it on the table and left. “Enjoy the food,” Grappin said. Torhan reached for the seared beef and began eating.
During the meal, Grappin gave him detailed information about the town of Mirkin: from the intimate design of almost every building, to the complement of the guards, to where the priest frequently visits, how many of Abiathar’s acolytes would be in his service, and, finally, what would happen if he were caught, or worse, failed him. After they were through with the meal, and their bellies were full, the servant girls entered the room, and Grappin stood up abruptly.
“You may indulge yourself in one or several of my servants if you’d like. As for me, I’m retiring to my quarters.” He walked toward the door and stopped just short of leaving. “If you get bored, or can’t sleep, I have several libraries at your disposal, all of which are located on the same floor as your room. Furthermore, make sure you stay on that floor. Goodnight.” Grappin left the room.
Three servant girls walked over, picked up a pitcher of wine each, and followed their master out of the room.
Another girl walked over to Torhan. “My lord, can I show you to your room?”
“I’d like to look at the items on the pedestals first.”
After he was finished, he was led upstairs to the third floor of the house. Upon his arrival on the landing, he noticed the wall directly in front of him displayed many pictures. Some of them represented bright and cheerful days with the sun shining and the trees in full bloom, while others were dreary and dark with rain and lightning. Others depicted a bloodied warrior lying dead upon the snow, while another had a scene of an ancient battle, of some forgotten time, with three warriors fighting bravely against several hundred lizard creatures. His guide waited patiently until he was finished studying the pictures, then she led him down the hallway. They passed several rooms with signs above the doorway written in ancient tongues and a language he did not understand. Finally, they reached the last room, and she opened the door with a set of skeleton keys that were hidden deep within her clothing.
“Would you like some company?” she asked after turning to face him.
“No, not right now. I do have a question though, those signs, what do they mean?” Torhan asked, even though he thought she probably wouldn’t know.
“Well I know what some of the words mean, but to utter them would cost me my life.”
Torhan was surprised by her answer. “Why?”
“Please, my lord, for your safety stay in your room and don’t try to open those doors.”
“Why can’t you tell me what the words mean?” he pressed.
“My lord, I’m not allowed,” she flatly answered. “Can I get you anything else?”
Defeated, he let the matter drop and asked, “Where’s the study?”
“There’s an entrance at the back of your room, follow me.” She smiled and led him through the doorway.
His room was impressive to say the least. An oversized fireplace to the far back of the room was the size of at least two grown men in both height and width. A dense fire burned within the hearth that could certainly generate enough warmth to heat a room twice the size. To the right of the mantle sat two colorful high-backed chairs with a two-foot high wooden table between them. A large, round table with a lone chair took up residence directly in the center of the room, and waiting on top of the surface was an unlit candle, a jug of wine, and a tray containing exotic fruit, rare cheese, and hearty bread. To the right of the room was a warm and inviting four-poster bed that stood roughly three feet off the floor and was six feet long and wide. Sophisticated carvings, which could only have been created by a master woodworker, were etched throughout the headboard, footboard, and posts.
His escort led him toward the back of the room and stopped when she reached the right side of the fireplace. She ran her hands against the wall until they heard a loud click, which was followed by a portion of the wall sliding to the right, revealing a well-lit room.
“Here is the study. Let me know if you need anything else.” The woman excused herself and left without saying another word.
The second the bedroom door closed, Torhan eagerly entered the study and was surprised to find it was larger than his sleeping quarters. The walls were lined with shelves, from floor to ceiling, that were filled with books snuggled together. To the far back was a round wooden table and chair. Grinning, he walked over and started reading the spines of the books. He found at least a dozen books of interest that ranged from topics such as: hunting, tracking, thieving, blacksmithing, and healing. After clutching several of them and placing them on the table, he stripped down to his woolen shirt and leggings, sat down, and began reading. His session lasted until his mind became so fatigued that the words began to jumble together and no longer made sense. Torhan, blurry-eyed and tired, stood up and left the study, stumbled onto his bed, and fell asleep within minutes.
It was midmorning when Torhan finally woke from his slumber. Getting out of bed, he stretched his cramped muscles, walked over to the water basin, and splashed his face with the cool water. He’d just finished toweling his face when he heard a light knock on his door. To his delight, the servant girl from the night before stood holding a tray with food and a clear bottle containing a reddish fluid. She walked across the room, placed the items on the table, turned around, and was about to leave when Torhan gently grasped her arm and formally requested her to join him. The woman smiled and sat down.
“Did you find everything you were looking for last night?” she asked.
“I’ve never seen such an extensive collection of books and manuals before. I surmised that it would take me years just to get through a third of the material.”
“It is said that Master has read and memorized every book in this library as well as his own.”
“I’m sorry. What is your name?”
“My name is Dawel.”
“That’s a pretty name. I’m glad to meet you, Dawel. My name is Torhan.
She smiled.
“Can I see Grappin? I have something to ask him.”
Her eyes shifted from right to left. “He had to leave on business this morning, but said you can stay for another day and continue studying his books.”
“Where has he gone?”
“The master has gone on an expedition and will not be back for a while,” she paused. “I should be going.” She stood up.
“Wait.”
“I have to go.” She walked over to the door and paused. “The liquid will help you concentrate better so that you can read faster and retain the information permanently. However, the effect will only last half a day, so use it wisely. I’ll stop by later.” She left without looking in his direction and closed the door.
That was strange, he thought after she was gone. She was clearly uneasy when I inquired about Grappin.
He brushed aside the thoughts of the servant girl, finished his meal, and drank the liquid inside the container in one swig. On his way to the study, he began to feel light-headed and dizzy, and fell down, passing out.
Eventually, Torhan regained consciousness. His head throbbed, and
the pain was so intense it felt like he was hit in the back of the head with a large war hammer. Weak-legged and nauseous, he steadily rose to his feet, stumbled into the study, and plopped down in the chair, clutching his head until the feeling subsided. He felt different somehow, more focused. He got up, found a few books of interest, and began reading them one at a time. The first in the series was Attacking & Defending which he read page after page with inhuman speed. After finishing a short time later, he closed the training manual and recited the material aloud while visualizing each technique from the beginning to the end. After he executed the knowledge portion, he walked over, raised his sword and dagger, and systematically went through each defensive stance and attacking posture from start to finish. Although the movements were raw in appearance, the knowledge was now ingrained within his memory and, in time, he knew that he would master all the techniques without the help of a master swordsman. Pleased, and very impressed by this newfound knowledge, Torhan returned to his seat and began reading the next module The Art of the Bow. He was a novice at best with the weapon and wanted to see if he could improve on his technique just by reading the book. This manual was different than the last one; close-up pictures followed each paragraph, detailing the movement perfectly, which in turn made it easier to comprehend the skill. After he finished, he once again simulated the skill, even though he did not have a bow in his possession. Again, he was surprised that he could mimic the movements perfectly. He felt very confident that he could employ the weapon skillfully.
The last book that Torhan studied, before the potion wore off, was The Unseen Warrior (Assassination and Thieving.) The manual would permit him to learn skills that were forbidden by his guild, so he would have to keep it a secret, because if they found out, they’d label him a coward. He definitely wanted to accomplish two things by reading this manual; one was to see if he could learn something foreign to him in a short amount of time, and the other was to have an advantage against an unsuspecting foe if the need should ever arise. The escape portion from the book was by far the most difficult to learn, nonetheless, he eventually finished it within an hour and felt confident. Drained and wearied by the experience, Torhan walked over to the bed and fell asleep.
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