With that thought Iltar sits up in his bed, then stands and reaches for the light stone. The necromancer removes it from its hanging housing, and drops the small illuminating stone into an open compartment near the doorway, slightly smaller than the necromancer’s hands. As he closes the lid the cabin becomes darkened, with only faint beams of light breaking through the seams of the compartment. With the light vanquished, Iltar lies down and falls asleep.
* * * * *
Early the next morning Iltar awakens to the darkened cabin. The necromancer gropes his way toward the compartment containing the light stone and opens it, causing light to spill into the room.
Once he removes and re-secures the light stone in the ceiling mount, Iltar sits back down on the cushion of the bed and rubs his arms, muttering, “We must be clear of the Dragon’s Isle.”
Turning to the chest on the decking near him, Iltar leans forward and opens its contents to view; along its left side are the scroll cases containing the original texts delivered to him by Cornar as well as their copies.
“Which one is the worn scroll?” Iltar tiredly asks himself and silently recounts which case contains which scroll.
After a moment, the necromancer pulls one of the cases out and opens it, revealing one of the hand written copies. Iltar leans back as he unrolls the scroll and rereads the transcribed material; his sapphire eyes are drawn back to several incomplete elven sentences: “The s…. is essential to completing the amulet, without it the metal jewelry is useless. With a shi…”
A smile forms across the necromancer’s face as he realizes what the text is saying. “Shiz’nak…” the strange word leaves his mouth. “I thought it was referring to the ruby, that ‘the stone is essential’, which I suppose the ruby could be considered a stone; however, none of the references in the books or the other scrolls refer to the Ruby of Lish as a stone.”
Iltar leans back against the wall adjacent to the bed. He rests his arms and lays the parchment against his thighs. The weight of this adventure becomes even heavier than before upon Iltar’s shoulders. With this new discovery in his mind he rises from the bed and walks to the door.
Still dressed in his dark robes from the last several days, Iltar steps out into the corridor connecting the rooms within the ship’s hull.
10
Return
Inside the galley of the Farling, Hagen and Hex are quietly conversing about their ordeal on the island; the illusionist and wizard are the only ones in the room, sitting at a table on the far portside of the galley. A magically lit lantern lights the galley providing the only source of illumination.
Looking down at his glass of ale, Hagen continues, “It just doesn’t seem like Iltar really cares about any of us anymore. There wasn’t any sign of danger when that dragon died. We could have just picked up Igan’s body and buried him on the other side of the mountains.”
“I don’t think that dragon was playing us for fools when he let out that last screech,” Hex tries to justify the situation. “No… I’m sure there were others that heard it. Don’t you remember hearing that faint sound to the north?”
“I don’t know…” Hagen throws his hands in the air. “I am sure we are all expendable to Iltar, and he’ll most likely drag us along until we’re all dead.”
“What are you saying Hagen…? It’s too late to back out now,” the wizard stares at his friend as the sun breaks the watery horizon to the west. Beams of light stream through the port side windows of the galley as he continues, “The council will most likely torture and kill you for aiding Iltar. It’s best we stay with him, that way we at least have a chance to survive.
“Besides,” Hex continues as he straightens in his chair, “None of us knew the capabilities of the dragons. I don’t think Iltar was counting on any of us dying. That island threw several surprises in our faces.”
After a moment of silence between the two mages, the door to the galley opens. The shrouded figure of the necromancer walks across the room and as he does so calls out to the mages.
“You two are up early for breakfast,” Iltar’s voice erodes the lingering silence.
“We never slept,” Hex answers with his cup in hand. “But I’m guessing by those words you did.”
“Yes I did,” Iltar responds, “It was an exhausting ordeal.”
Hagen sulks in silence as Iltar draws closer to the pair. His emotions show through his face, but he doesn’t look up to meet the necromancer’s eyes.
“You’re still upset,” Iltar observes as he pulls a chair up to the table and sits down between the two mages.
“Of course I’m upset!” Hagen cries out, still looking at the table. “I saw one of my dearest friends struck down by a fowl beast! And you didn’t care one bit. You left him there to be eaten by those things.”
“I didn’t see you try to pick him up,” Iltar says quaintly, “We were all running for our lives.”
“Why? Because Cornar said so?” Hagen finally looks up from his glass. “I’m tired of taking orders.”
“Well none of us said you couldn’t grab him,” Iltar remarks while looking at his friend with slight sympathy.
“I guess you’re right… I’m as guilty as the rest of you.”
“And to your other point Hagen… I don’t think those dragons would feast on his corpse. They seemed accepting of my presence when I first stumbled across them. The one that killed Igan was even protective of me at first,” Iltar chuckles. He glances to both mages then continues, “It really shows how much we don’t know of those beasts.”
Through his tiredness Hex eagerly asks, “So were we in any danger when we fled? I saw you and Cor looking out the mouth of the tunnel. What did you see?”
Observing Hex’s tone, Iltar takes a deep breath; he looks at his two friends, whose faces yearn for the answer.
“Three more dragons,” Iltar nods his head. “Two circled around the ones we killed while another flew over head. That’s why I wanted us to travel back invisible. The tarrasque wasn’t my concern.”
“That makes sense now,” Hex says, still sitting upright in his chair, “Did you see the dragon? I mean after we got out of the cave.”
“No. Cor and I both looked as we ran but we didn’t hear the flapping of its wings. I don’t think it followed us.”
“I hope not,” Hagen interjects. “It’d probably try to kill us for finding out their secrets.”
“I don’t think so,” Iltar responds, “I got the impression that the majority of the dragons on this world are not malevolent creatures; except for that one I dealt with.
“I’m hungry.”
With that said, Iltar rises from his chair and turns to the empty bar near the aft of the galley.
“There is some quance, some dried meat and cheese left from last night’s meal,” Hex calls out as he turns to look at Iltar shuffling around the bar. Now quance is a harden bread, much like tack.
As the necromancer steps through to the other side and searches for the remaining food, the two men inquire about their next step of the tremendous journey.
“Where are we headed? It seems like we’re sailing south,” Hex asks while facing the necromancer.
“Yes we’re headed south, I want to resupply in Soroth,” Iltar calls out from behind the bar; he is busily cutting the dried meat and hard cheese.
“You’re kidding,” Hagen gasps with worry and distress in his voice. “What about the council?! No… if what you told us is true, why are we headed back there? They’ll see we don’t have any apprentices! We’re all going to die!”
After his outburst, the short illusionist puts his hands on either side of his head and leans over the table.
“Don’t worry about the council,” Iltar says as he maneuvers around the bar and back towards the two men.
Taking his seat Iltar continues, “They weren’t expecting us back this early anyway. I have a plan, but I don’t want to discuss it here where anyone can come right in and overhear it.”
With
stein in hand, the necromancer takes a sip of the ale then breaks apart the cheese and quance. He places the two foods together with the dried meat, then puts them delicately into his mouth; all the while, the two other mages look at him.
“Then what,” Hagen asks more than a statement than a question.
“Merdan, more specifically Merda… that is the only solid lead the dragon gave us,” Iltar says between swallows.
“You get even crazier and crazier Iltar,” Hagen leans forward. Looking to Hex he reaffirms his earlier statement, “We are all expendable!”
Iltar raises his brow and looks at the illusionist but continues to put the clumps of meat, cheese and hard bread into his mouth. Hex leans back, observing Iltar’s reaction.
Still looking at Hex, Hagen continues, “That place is haunted! Then there’s what the dragon said about some Devourer!” turning to Iltar he continues, “You’re not really thinking about going there, are you?”
Seeing Iltar silently staring at Hagen while chewing his morning meal, Hex responds, “You’ve heard too many horror stories Hagen… Merda isn’t haunted.”
With that said, the wizard leans forward and pokes Hagen, who himself is still leaning over the table; the push gently nudges the illusionist back into his seat.
“I’m serious!” Hagen stares wide eyed at Hex as if seeking support. “You know as well as I that the place is cursed. If it wasn’t, why doesn’t anyone live there anymore? What happened to the elves? The only inhabitants are on the western side of the island, across the mountains that divide the island in half. No one goes to Merda, no one,” Hagen spits out the last sentence.
After finishing his meal, Iltar finally speaks up, “Okay. You can stay home. I’m going to Merda, and this time I’m bringing as many people as I can. I’m sure Hem will be happy to take your place.”
Sensing the previous failure on the island still lingering about the two other mages, Iltar continues, “Besides, we would have overpowered those dragons with less casualties if we brought everyone with us. Even if Lorith had made it through the tarrasque’s lair we would have had a better outcome.
“I am going to go,” Iltar rises from the table. “But later I want to talk with both of you and Amendal. We will wait till later in the day when the others are awake… And the two of you need some rest.”
Once Iltar leaves the galley, Hagen and Hex continue their conversation in the now sunlit room.
“See,” Hagen motions with his hands toward the table with his palms facing upwards, “He wants to go to Merda, he doesn’t care about what dangers we face. All he’s after is that damn amulet!” Hagen tries to not shout the words.
“Iltar promised that we would be well rewarded for aiding him in this venture. But he also said there would be risks, and danger,” the wizard attempts to call back to Hagen’s mind the conversation on the beach.
“We’ve seen plenty of danger so far don’t you think? What with the monster, three platinum dragons and losing several of our companions. We have nothing in return,” Hagen replies tersely.
“Hagen, you didn’t think this would be easy did you?” Hex tries to reason with the illusionist. “We ran into a setback, that’s all,” he says the last with emphasis. “We need to stay the course with Iltar. Has he ever steered us wrong in previous adventures?”
“No he hasn’t, but this is not like anything we’ve been through together. Now he doesn’t care who is put in danger or who may die along the way. And I don’t like the idea of going to Merda. Hex, that place has a curse upon it I tell you.”
“It may very well have a curse, but you know that Iltar doesn't go blindly into any situation if he can help it. He will research all he can and get prepared as much as possible before leaving for Merdan. I have confidence in him.”
“All Iltar cares about is Iltar. We are all expendable. I’m going to rest.”
With that said Hagen gets up from his chair and walks out of the room, leaving Hex alone.
* * * * *
Morning light bathes the main deck of the Farling as Iltar ascends the stairs from the lower portion of the vessel where the quarters and the galley are located. The fresh air brings in a welcomed relief from the stuffiness of the lower decks.
As he walks across the deck, Iltar’s mind turns new thoughts, “The council is the most pressing matter. For two reasons, to solidify the lie to my friends and to further insure no meddling in my affairs; which will most likely require greater assistance and a greater force of men.”
As Iltar contemplates his next course of action, he steps toward the raised forecastle; the members of the crew knew to stay away from him, but his companions who would most likely be waking soon will undoubtedly attempt to strike up a conversation; thus, being at the front of the vessel would allow the necromancer ample time to retract from his thoughts.
Pacing back and forth along the forecastle, Iltar’s mind reflects back to his companion’s opinions voiced on the island. Amendal was very adamant about the corruption in the council. A group of necromancers had not and would not produce favorable results for the Order.
Staring across the bowsprit of the ship, Iltar’s eyes narrow at the distant horizon as if focusing on his island home so many days away. Suddenly the necromancer’s eyes widen in an enlightened expression.
“I know what must be done,” Iltar mutters and a smile forms across his face, which continues to spread until his teeth are exposed in a wide grin. His demented glee manifests itself in a faint chuckle then into diabolical laughter. “And I am going to enjoy it.”
After a short time, Iltar regains his stern composure and ceases his daydreaming about the near future. The details of his idea have been formulating in his mind and it is time to refine it.
“Now Cor, where are you?” the necromancer whispers to himself as he descends the steps connecting the forecastle to the main deck.
Iltar had always relied on his friend to reflect his thoughts in a clearer way. The warrior’s intellect had helped Iltar throughout many occasions in the past; especially when he needed to deal with a since dead member of the council who had been obstinate with the newly elected necromancer. Cornar was able to look at both sides of the situation and divine a clear path forward for Iltar to take. This helped Iltar accomplish a compromise without losing face. In addition, Cornar’s experiences have cultivated a great deal of wisdom, a trait Iltar finds extremely useful, especially in this coming dilemma.
Laying against a sack of beans which is propped up along the portside rail, Cornar is fast asleep. The necromancer kicks the warrior’s foot, but that doesn’t rouse him. Then with slight hesitancy, Iltar quickly reaches down and shakes his friend’s shoulder.
“Cor, wake up!” Iltar sternly states and straightens up, hastily moving backwards several steps away from his friend. He knows what will happen if the warrior wakes up while someone stares into his face. A member of the City Watch did that once; Cornar was startled and struck the officer in the face which resulted in the warrior spending the following week in jail.
Hearing the words and feeling the motion, Cornar wakes with a start. “What–Oh, It’s you,” Cornar groggily shakes his head. “You need to be careful waking me up like that,” Cornar states and rises to his feet to face the necromancer.
“I stepped back,” Iltar retorts then looks around the main deck. “I’m sorry to interrupt your nap, but we need to talk.”
Amid his searching, Iltar notices several deckhands within earshot and the captain at the helm above them.
“Not here I imagine?” Cornar notices Iltar looking about the deck.
“No, not here. Let’s go below to my cabin,” the necromancer says and moves toward the stairs leading to the lower deck of the vessel.
Knowing that whatever Iltar has to say is important, Cornar silently nods his head and follows after him.
Both Iltar and Cornar quietly descend the steps and walk through the corridors which eventually lead to Iltar’s small quarters. Once they are i
n the cabin, Iltar closes and locks the door, motioning for his friend to sit.
Moving across the small cabin, Cornar sits in the only chair against the outer hull while Iltar moves toward the bed. Both warrior and necromancer face each other diagonally across the room.
As they take their seats, Iltar speaks up, “In order for us to move forward there are some necessary steps that need to be taken,” Iltar says as he adjusts himself and leans against the wall; his head relaxes comfortably as he continues his proposal and dilemma. “I told the others that the council had discovered the writings; that you and Krindal found them, but they were intending to send an expedition sometime in the future. Also, that we went to the Dragon’s Isle out of my attempting to beat them to discovering it. They still think that the mission to recruit more students was valid from the council, and that we disobeyed that order by having gone to the island.”
“So you are playing two lies,” Cornar says as he looks at his friend with a smile.
“Yes I am, but I only plan to live one.”
“I can only guess which,” Cornar leans forward and looks at his friend continuing with feigned and sarcastic ignorance. “I have a feeling I know where this is going.
“But, how are you going to deal with implicating Krindal?”
“Krindal has since left on another expedition,” Iltar calmly responds, “One which is taking him to the far side of the world to lands that have since become barren. I don’t expect him to return for a very long time. When he left, Krindal informed the council he was planning on being gone for at least a year and provisioned a ship for that. This was just before we set sail.”
Shaking his head Cornar says, “You’re taking some risk there. What if Krindal returns sooner?”
“That doesn’t matter. But we’ll deal with that when and if that time comes. By then I will have already positioned myself so that no one can stop me.”
“What do you mean by that?” Cornar asks, still leaning forward.
The Dark Necromancer Page 20
