by Paul Centeno
“Too many voices,” mumbled the old man, hunched and limping forward. “Night after night, they screamed.” With difficulty, he approached one of the caves. “I remember all of their visages; the horror on each and every one of them.” Before entering the pitch-black cavern, he turned and gazed hard at the advancing group and hideously grinned at them. “I actually loved it.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Taveric, raising an eyebrow.
“Naive fools!” bellowed Gosroth with a cackle.
He straightened himself and raised his cane. His jaundiced eyes gleamed red while he murmured an incantation. Then his staff glowed, its tip forming a fireball. He aimed it at the paladin and released the sphere of flame.
“Take cover!” shouted Ceirdan.
Taveric stood stock-still, speechless. His entourage swiftly pushed him aside, conjuring a shield of holy light with their palms. The fireball, however, destroyed the barrier and incinerated both of them. Meanwhile, the royal knights and dwarf rolled aside, not knowing if the fire would envelop them too. When they got to their feet, tall metal beings surrounded them, their flickering eyes gazing down upon them.
“I strongly advise you to drop your weapons and surrender,” said Gosroth.
The royal knights complied, dropping their claymores. Olwe listened too, letting go of his axe. Taveric was the only one in the group holding a weapon. He tightened his grip on the handle of his mallet.
“Do you know who I am?” he said with poise. “I am Lord Taveric, paladin and arcane leader of the clergy.”
“In a moment there will be a new arcane leader,” said Gosroth, raising his fiery staff at him while the iron beings approached. “Relinquish your hammer or face the consequences!” he exclaimed, his voice like thunder.
“I hate wizards,” Taveric mumbled to himself, letting go of his weapon.
Meanwhile, back in the abandoned city, Dargain searched the interior of the mage tower. He could hardly believe that not a single sorcerer or sorceress was there. The spire wasn’t only a school for magicians, it was also their residence. He meticulously checked the main lobby and classrooms, finding them empty. Not one class was in session. He then checked the bedchambers in the tower’s dormitory.
“Where in the name of Thay’tal are they?” he asked himself aloud. Upon finishing his search on the fourteenth floor of the residence halls, a feeling of dread formed within his chest. “Something terrible must have happened.”
Dargain reached for the telepathic crystal in his pouch. He hesitated to pull it out, still thinking someone would appear and spot him with it. The citizens of Hasgrith, especially the wizards, hated such an item because they valued their independence. Dargain respected their privacy; however, since Hasgrith’s population seemed to have vanished without a trace, he felt this was an exception to use it.
Taking out the glittery blue crystal, he left the last dormitory hall and entered a corner chamber where spiral stairs lay. He made his way to the highest level in the tower. Even though Dargain needed to catch his breath multiple times, he eventually made it to the eightieth floor. Just when he thought he’d reached the communing room, he found himself in an arched hall where oil paintings of previous archmages hung. The most recent one illustrated Gosroth whom Dargain passed without so much as a glimpse. Upon reaching the end of the dim corridor, he discovered another staircase in front of him.
“Not again,” he said with a sigh.
After a deep intake of breath, he scaled the flight of stairs and stood in front of mahogany doors that had designs of dragons etched into them. He knocked, hoping the archmage would be there and allow him to enter. Yet no one responded. Shaking his head, Dargain pushed open the unlocked doors and stepped into a chamber littered with dusty books on shelves, small gargoyle sconces along the walls, marble tables full of parchments, and four bronze statues of primordial wizards standing in the middle of the room—each one placed at the corner of what resembled a fountain to Dargain. Its basin was filled with water and surrounded an obelisk, which contained an octagonal hole within its pillar.
Without hesitation, Dargain inserted his telepathic crystal into the slot and sat in front of the sculptured apparatus in lotus position. Not a minute later, his shard glowed, illuminating the chamber. Closing his eyes, he started meditating. At first, there was silence; then a few whispers became earshot. The voices were jumbled, as if in another tongue. Though straining, Dargain focused harder. He was neither a wizard nor a cleric, so communing from afar wasn’t second nature to him.
Sweat formed along his brow. Breathing deeply, he joined his palms. Channeling the life force within him, he strengthened his mind with every fiber of his being. The mumbling voices dissipated. Silence descended over him. He embraced the stillness, emptying his mind of every thought within him. His anxiety flushed away. All his worries of the past and future were gone. Now he existed in the present moment—the here and now. Upon breaching the realm of stillness, Dargain heard one clear voice call out to him:
Hail, noble Dargain.
Greetings and salutations, Magi Lordakon. I don’t know how long I can maintain this link, but I am in dire need of your assistance.
King Beregeth has made his decision clear. What you ask is treason.
The mage academy here is derelict. Actually, I have a feeling the entire city of Hasgrith has been abandoned. Clerics cannot help me with this investigation. I need a competent wizard, Magi Lordakon.
Countless voices filled his mind. A spasm ran up his spine, causing him to shudder. He felt as if lightning zapped into him. He screamed in agony, his head throbbing. At that moment, Dargain wondered if his mind would shatter. He’d never experienced this kind of pain in his entire life; then again, he’d never used a telepathic crystal before. Moments later, the voices faded and the unbearable twinge dissipated.
Opening his eyes, he found himself on the floor. The sculptured apparatus continued to glow, his crystal still inside it. Groaning, he sat up and stared at the pedestal. Though his vision was a bit blurry, he noticed that something had begun to materialize upon the marble plinth. He swallowed heavily and scrambled back, using his armored elbows. Trying to stand up, a bright light flashed before him. He repeatedly blinked, blinded by the phenomenon in the moment. To be on the safe side, Dargain raised his sword and shield.
“Sheathe your weapon, brother,” said a firm yet radiant voice. “There is no need for it...yet.”
“Jorian?” called out Dargain, lowering his arms.
“It is I,” said Magi Frostwarm, a middle-aged magician with hazel eyes, long hair, and a black- and gray-tinged beard that reached down to his waist. Wrapped in an indigo brocade robe, he walked forward and swiped his somewhat wrinkled hand over Dargain’s brown eyes, soothing them. “Tell me, what has transpired here?”
Able to see again without straining, Dargain embraced his older brother. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Jorian,” he said, relieved. “I know the king didn’t approve of you joining us, and Lord Taveric may deem this heresy, but something bizarre has occurred. Not one mage is in this tower. The others in my brigade may have found a few citizens while I was gone; though, from the looks of it, Hasgrith has been abandoned.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to see this myself,” said Magi Frostwarm, conjuring an oak staff while walking toward the stairs.
Upon descending, Dargain took the lead and guided his brother throughout the academy. Together they checked every bedchamber and classroom in the tower. The duo even descended into the basement where shipments of paranormal items lay. To the wizard’s surprise, he didn’t see a single person inside the school of magic.
“What do you think?” asked Dargain.
“This is very troubling,” replied Magi Frostwarm, his face somber. “Unfortunately you’ll have to return to Lord Taveric.”
“Wait, what about you?”
“I must return lest the king execute you for disobedience,” said the wizard. He noticed his younger brother’s face turn p
ale and gave out a sigh. “Dargain, my presence here is supposed to be a secret.”
“Jorian, I need your help,” said Dargain. “Do you think this is normal?” He had to wait a few seconds for his older brother to shake his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you ready to face the consequences?”
“I’m ready to do the right thing and protect the people of this kingdom with my life,” said Dargain. “How about you?”
“Hmm,” uttered Magi Frostwarm, rubbing his triangular beard. “Master, huh?”
“Tch, I doubt it,” he replied, waving his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of this place. It’s making me feel uneasy.”
The duo made their way to the first floor, entering the lobby. Walking to the heart of the chamber decorated with stained-glass windows of magicians conjuring various spells, Frostwarm clunked his staff on the marble hall while murmuring an incantation. In that instant, he and his brother gleamed and vanished.
Not another second passing, they teleported outside the tower. The unicorns neighed and turned sidelong, inquisitive. Kaylana, on the contrary, fell on her buttocks. Her eyes widened, fixed on the advancing wizard.
“Good evening, Kaylana,” said Frostwarm.
“It’s not a very good evening, Magi Frostwarm,” she retorted.
“Jorian will do,” said the wizard, a wily grin on his face.
“Ugh, I hope you have an explanation for this,” she said to Dargain, getting to her feet with a sullen look.
“Are you siding with Lord Taveric now?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Of course not,” she replied snappily. “I couldn’t care less what he thinks. I’m worried about what the king will do. He can have your head for disobeying him.”
“Probably all of our heads,” said Frostwarm.
“True,” said Dargain, agreeing with both Kaylana and his brother. “But he’s not aware that half the city’s population is missing.”
“Not half…everyone,” she said.
“You’re certain of this?” Dargain asked in disbelief. Upon seeing her nod, he went on, “Even the countess is missing?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said.
“We need to report this to the king immediately,” said Frostwarm. “Kaylana, where is Lord Taveric?”
“Actually,” she began, “Lord Taveric is gone. When we regrouped, an elderly man came rushing over to us for aid. He told us that everyone in Hasgrith had been taken against their will to Mount U’cleria.”
“And you’re telling us this now?” responded Dargain.
“Well excuse me, Master,” she said sarcastically. “I was a bit thrown off guard with your brother’s presence—no offense, Jorian.”
“None taken,” he said.
“Lord Taveric told me to stay here and wait for you to return while he and the others investigated the mountain.”
Dargain didn’t bother responding. He swiftly mounted his unicorn and helped his brother up. Once the wizard was settled on the saddle, Dargain tugged the reins of his steed and rode fast toward the city’s entrance. The trio soon exited Hasgrith, traveling south to Mount U’cleria.
It was past midnight when they reached the gargantuan mountain. Silence fell, broken only by a chorus of insects. Squinting, the wizard looked around with suspicion in his eyes. A gust of wind brushed against them, clusters of leaves fluttering. Mist filled the air. The moons’ violet light vanished, clouds merging and swelling. Whether another storm was brewing, the trio got off their mounts and approached the cave closest to them.
“Not this one,” said Frostwarm.
“Why not?” asked Dargain.
The wizard began, “Look bel—”
“Below,” interjected Kaylana, pointing at the numerous indentations in the soil. “Those are fresh footprints.”
“Good eyes, Lana,” said Dargain.
The three of them readied their weapons and entered the cavern littered with footprints, hoping to find their fellow guardians. Since the cave was pitch-black inside, Frostwarm cast a spell that lit the tip of his oak staff. He then used it as a torch, guiding Kaylana and his younger brother deeper into the cavern. Fungi grew along the jagged walls. Sharp stalactite hung on the crippled ceiling. Droplets of brownish water fell from above, splashing onto muddy puddles that rippled.
Despite how eerie the cave appeared to the trio, they treaded deeper through it. Although the Vlydyonian brothers didn’t mind the twists and turns of the cavern’s path, Kaylana seemed irritated.
“Where in the bloody names of the Nine can they be?” she asked, sulking.
“Calm down, Lana,” said Dargain. “Bear in mind that they left hours before us. They’re probably—”
“Oh, thank goodness you came,” blurted Gosroth, approaching them in a hunch. Looking at Kaylana, he added, “I was hoping you would bring your friends. Lord Taveric and his fellow heroes have ventured into the heart of the mountain to save the countess and her people. Please hurry so you can help them.”
“Gosroth?” called out Frostwarm.
The old man grew pale before he replied, “Jorian! Thank the Nine. You have come to aid us in our darkest hour.”
“Where are the other mages?” he asked, noticing Gosroth’s shocked expression.
“It’s awful,” said the old man. “They were betrayed by the new archmage. He told them that he’d found a portal into the transmundane realm of the Spirits inside this cave. As a matter of fact, we were even told that he communed to U’cleria herself.”
Frostwarm raised an eyebrow. “And how did you escape his grasp?” he inquired.
“I was left for dead,” said Gosroth, stammering. “Seizing the opportunity, I made a run for it. There was no time to free the others, especially because the archmage’s minions saw my shadow and attempted to recapture me.”
“Minions?” said Dargain.
“There’s no time to explain,” said Gosroth, limping into the darkness. “Follow me.”
Kaylana stared at the hunched man hesitantly, wondering why he’d sounded so delirious a few hours ago and now spoke so well. Maybe he was simply that frightened in Hasgrith, she thought to herself. With the coming of Paladin Taveric, he must have regained his composure, she conceded.
The others decided to follow him into the depths of the cave. Frostwarm’s gleaming staff helped them see ahead. They avoided sinkholes and falling off ridges while trekking the interior of Mount U’cleria, hoping to find either their fellow guardians or the prisoners soon. Dewdrops stopped dripping. The whistling wind faded. In due time, the quartet started hearing a sizzling sound.
Aiming his staff down, Frostwarm realized that below the ridge he and his companions were walking upon lay flowing lava. Kaylana and the brothers withdrew against the wall. Only the old man treaded forward without wavering. After leaving the narrow tunnel, they stepped into a cavernous chamber where stalagmites stood. The ground shook, dust fell from the prickled ceiling, and large boulders crashed down. The guardians of Vlydyn winced, wondering if an earthquake would swallow them. At that precise moment, the rocks formed into tall beings of granite.
“Golems!” gasped Kaylana.
When the rock-strewn creatures advanced toward the quartet, Frostwarm raised his staff and emitted a blast of frost so cold that it froze them in place. He then enchanted Dargain’s and Kaylana’s weapons, significantly increasing the blades’ durability. The knights approached the frozen beings and shattered them.
Another quake occurred, causing more boulders to fall. Numerous golems formed from the rocks and advanced toward their enemies. The knights’ enchanted swords cracked their granite bodies upon impact. Frostwarm conjured multiple fireballs, hurling them at the stony creatures. In the meantime, Gosroth slipped away from the engrossed trio, conjuring his staff. Upon reaching the opposite side of the golem-infested chamber, he entered one of several passages.
Striking down a fiend with her swords, Kaylana managed to observe her surroundings and realized tha
t the old man was missing.
“Where is Gosroth?” she asked.
The brothers ignored her, trying to decimate the magical beings. Blocking a golem’s fist with his dented shield, Dargain struck its leg and shattered it. Once the golem tumbled down, he slashed its chest and broke it apart. When the golems grew less in number, Frostwarm attempted to dispel the magic that summoned them.
“Eth’ra ro’kan qur’tyo’nes!” he boomed, slamming the base of his staff beneath his feet and cracking the ground. Shouting the spell increased its power, causing the earthen creatures to disassemble. He then glanced around, looking for the old wizard. “Only the Spirits know where he went.”
“Do you think one of the golems captured him?” inquired Dargain.
“I suppose it’s possible,” replied Frostwarm. Walking ahead, he noticed a fork containing three passages. Using his staff as a source of light again, he made out footprints leading into the left tunnel. He snorted, noticing they belonged to the old man. This meant that Gosroth deserted them, conceded Frostwarm. “This way,” he said.
The two knights followed him. Venturing deeper through the mountain, the trio began to sweat. A smell of char filled their nostrils, heat pouring over them. Dargain and Kaylana slowed down, removing their helmets and breathing heavily. The wizard only wore a robe, but it was so hot that even he huffed and puffed. He eventually cast a spell, enveloping him and his comrades with magical shields that helped absorb fire. Feeling a bit relieved, they pressed on without rest and entered another cavernous chamber.
Upon entering this section of the mountain, they stopped and observed it in awe. Granite no longer lay before them. Slack-jawed, the three of them stared at the titanium walls and floor. Though lava flowed beneath them, it was contained in trench-shaped slack tubs enchanted with powerful magic. And above the lair stood a massive forge where a multitude of dwarves crafted armor for a divine titan.
“More pawns of greatness for my experiments!” exclaimed Magmarta, his coarse speech-generating voice sounding unnaturally deep as though he had a mechanical larynx embedded in his neck. His alloy eye shimmered in the dim cavern. Seeing the wizard raise his staff, Magmarta yanked a weeping child over to him, lifting the edge of his axe along the boy’s throat. “I would not do that if I were you. Now, drop your weapons.”
