“Please come sit down,” Iltar motions to the seat next to him. As he does so, Kenard steps forward and sits, slightly tense due to the unknown purpose of the meeting.
“I’m guessing this is important since all of you are gathered here,” Kenard examines each of the mages. “I suppose that if I don’t comply each of you could easily overpower me before I could escape and jump ship. So get on with it.”
“Smart man,” the words ooze from Iltar’s mouth. The necromancer relates the purpose of their journey; telling Kenard the same story he told the mages on the beach; how the council found a record of a powerful artifact and how Iltar sought to beat the others at finding it. He also relates their plight and the importance of returning to Soroth.
“There you have it Captain, now what I propose is that you work with us. However, what we tell the citizens of Soroth will differ from the truth I have just told you.
“Everyone else aboard who is not in this room doesn’t know what really happened. For them, they thought we were going on a trip to find apprentices. What we will tell them and the rest of the people in Soroth, is that the council gave you, Cornar and myself a secret mission, masked by finding apprentices. We were given a fake charter to travel to the mainland. While we were out on this expedition, all of us had a change of heart. We decided to expose the council, due to the dangerousness of the task they charged to us.
“All you have to do captain is follow the lie.”
“What if I refuse?” Kenard asks, taking a bargaining posture.
“Then you don’t get your ship back. I will ensure that the port magistrate will always keep the bail of the White Duchess above your reach,” Iltar lets the words sink into the captain’s mind before continuing. “If you play along, I will release your ship from the impound; I will be the head of the council and I will have more authority and power, power that will enable me to free your ship.”
Captain Kenard’s lips twist as he thinks over the proposal. Having his ship back would mean a great deal to him. Then with hesitation he asks, “What else Iltar? There has to be something to this bargain that you’re not saying.”
“Let us use your ship. Of course, we will pay you for any future trips,” Iltar leans forward and looks at the captain, expecting an answer.
“You have a deal,” the captain says in a sharp tone as he rises from the chair, “Now I must get back to the helm. Just tell me when to talk and I will.”
With the captain gone, the rest of the men sit in silence. Each are deep in thought as they contemplate their situation. Only one more member of their expedition is required for them to put their plan in motion.
Without any commanding words from Iltar, Cornar immediately leaves the room again and after a moment returns with the leading thief.
“Okay… what’s going on?” Tilthan asks cautiously as he enters the room and looks around at the four mages.
Cornar shuts the door, and the sound startles the thief. He immediately raises his hands to the height of his face with his palms facing the others.
“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!” Tilthan swallows hard as he looks at the mages still giving him a hard look, not knowing why they are so serious. “Really, I’m telling the truth!”
“How do you feel about assassinations, Tilthan?” Iltar asks in a fierce and serious tone. His eyes narrow at the thief.
“Phew, I thought you guys were looking for someone to blame for the mess in the galley!” Tilthan breathes a sigh of relief. He then straightens up and with a changed demeanor asks, “Who do you need me to kill?”
“We need you to help us eliminate the council of the Necrotic Order, all except myself of course,” Iltar smiles as he speaks. “Cornar will tell you what to do exactly, but we need to know if you and your friends will assist us.”
“Why…? Are they getting in the way of the treasure we’re after?” the thief’s obliviousness shows concerning the true nature of their expedition; after all, he had not been within earshot of the dragon during Iltar’s interrogation.
“Yes, they threaten the continuation of this expedition, my friend. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to lose out on your share of the treasure…” Iltar lays the bait for the thief before him.
“All right, we’re in! But I want to get paid an additional sum for my time and for each head I take off!”
“Don’t worry you will. Now leave us,” Iltar says then waits for Tilthan to hurry out the door before he continues.
“Once Cornar formulates a plan we will meet again, but for now I think we should inform the others of our intentions. I want everyone to go along with us.”
“What do we tell them?” Hex asks
“Tell them what we told Kenard. Make it clear that the council is a threat to their lives, and they will be safe with me.”
With that said, each of the conspiring companions quietly leave the room, heading back to their respective quarters or returning to the amusement on deck.
Iltar walks down the passageway to his cabin and unlocks the door. Once inside his small chambers, Iltar unlocks the chest and removes the old tome, ready to continue reviewing its contents in search for clues that would point to that mysterious ancient order.
* * * * *
After several days Iltar and Cornar meet again to discuss their coup of the council by stratagem. Both men talk quietly as they sit in Iltar’s cabin, in respective positions as they had in earlier visits. On the table is a sheet of parchment with a hand drawn depiction of the Necrotic Order’s council chamber. Various lines and circles are drawn on the floor plan, indicating positions for the attackers.
Iltar sits in his bed near the table, looking at the diagram and tracing it with his finger.
“I believe this plan of attack will minimize the casualties on our end,” Cornar says as he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes briefly.
“You look tired my friend,” Iltar remarks as he looks up from the table. “We will be near Soroth tomorrow, you should relax the remainder of the day.”
Chuckling, Cornar responds to his partner in deceit, “It’s not like I will be doing much.” The warrior looks at his friend across the table with one opened eye. The other is closed but twitches from tiredness.
“All that remains is planting the evidence,” Iltar continues as he looks at his friend, “Do Kalder and Tilthan know?”
“Kalder does, I figured I’d let you tell Tilthan,” Cornar leans forward from the wall and pushes himself away from it. “I’ll grab both of them.”
With a grunt, Cornar exits the room, leaving Iltar alone. The necromancer muses over the plot in his mind and a twisted smile forms over his face. “How convenient,” he says to himself, “I will have control over the Order and freedom to search for the amulet and the tethering stone.”
Several minutes later, Cornar, followed by the aforementioned warrior and thief, walk into Iltar’s quarters. With the four of them there the small cabin becomes cramped and almost intolerable.
“Okay,” Tilthan breathes deep and rubs his hands together, “Who am I killing?”
“There is a slight change in plans my thieving friend,” Iltar says from the bed, completely laying on it to allow enough room for the others to stand. “According to Cornar’s strategy you and Kalder will execute the most vital part of this usurping. No one is to know the actual truth. That includes anyone on board that’s not in this room,” Iltar pauses and opens his palm out in front of him.
Without incantation, a swirling black mist of magic forms into a globe that hovers over his relaxed hand. It glows with a deathly light, and small clouds of black dissolving dust swirl within the magic. The magic gives off a sense of dread that knots in the other men’s stomachs; even Cornar can feel it.
“If either of you tell the real truth,” a thick expression of seriousness smears Iltar’s face as he looks at the men. “You will endure a painful existence with one of these eating away at your body.”
“Umm,” Tilthan interrupts, “The
less I know the better, just tell me what to do and I’ll forget it. Don’t even tell me why I’m doing it either!”
“I’m as loyal to you as Cornar, Master Iltar,” Kalder’s stoically states in a tone of seriousness that is firm and unshaken. “I would never betray you.”
“Good. If you want to know the reasons behind this Kalder you can ask Cornar. He’ll tell you something that we haven’t told the others nor do we plan to. And Tilthan, if you hint to the others that what we have said concerning the council and our initial mission are not completely accurate, you will die.”
“I’ve heard nothing you said,” Tilthan shakes his hands in front of his chest, “I’m not even hear right now…”
“Now for your task,” Iltar closes his hand and the globe of darkness vanishes with the magic wisping back into his pores. Motioning to the chest at the edge of the bed, Iltar adds, “In there are five red scroll cases and two old books. They will need to be planted in Alacor’s chambers in the Order’s main hall. The two of you will stay with the ship while the others leave in the small boats. Kenard will pilot the ship and dock, then you will make your escape. Tilthan,” Iltar looks at the thief, “You will need to take one of your friend’s cloaks for Kalder.”
The thief nods in the affirmative while Iltar continues.
“Both of you will be guided to his chambers in the guild hall. While the rest of us are dealing with the council, the two of you will make sure the evidence is secured. You will need to re-lock the doors, but you’re good at that Tilthan, I don’t have to tell you,” Iltar’s eyes narrow at the thief. “Once the others are off the boat you will come get the scrolls and books, they will be the only things left in this room. Now go and don’t fail me.”
Without a word, the two warriors and thief clear out of the room and leave Iltar alone.
The necromancer turns in the bed and adjusts himself, staring at the ceiling. His mind races over the texts he had immersed himself in the last four days.
“There was no trace of an organization that would have been trusted intimately by the dragons. How frustrating,” Iltar closes his eyes and slows his breathing and the gentle swaying of the ship puts him to sleep.
* * * * *
The next morning, land is spotted in the horizon to the south west. Atop the highest mast the lookout calls down to the crewman at the helm. One of the crewmen descends to the lower deck and rushes to the captain’s quarters.
“Captain Kenard!” the crewman shouts as he bursts through the doorway, “We’ve spotted Sereth! We’re home!”
From his bed, Kenard sits up and faces the man in his doorway, “Good I’ll be at the helm shortly, go awake Iltar and Cornar. Tell them we are close.”
After a quarter of an hour, the entire expedition and every crewman of the Farling are on deck looking to the south. A speck of land grows in the distance and the first island spotted is now to the west, looming large.
Slightly inland on that landmass is a castle that looms over the forest covering the eastern shore. It is made of a dull gray stone with three towers which spire from the top of the main keep.
Iltar looks at the castle with anticipation as he thinks, “Balden, I’ll come for you soon.”
“We should be near Soroth and your excursion point in just over an hour,” Captain Kenard shouts from behind the rail of the upper deck
Turning to the bow, Iltar faintly sees their island home in the distance. The wrinkles around his eyes thicken as his focus penetrates the nearing land. A twisted smile, the one that always appears, forms across his face.
From over his shoulder, Iltar can hear Cornar shouting to the others, “Load the craft!”
11
Clandestine Homecoming
The island of Soroth fills the vista before the Farling as it turns to follow the shore of the island. To the west, Soroth stretches far and beyond the horizon. Fall is setting in, with several groups of trees turning colors. The northern side of the island is covered in a dense forest, which often conceals many houses and estates.
“Quarter to starboard!” Captain Kenard calls out from near the helm, not only informing the crew but the passengers of the impending turn.
A lone figure remains at the bow of the ship, his black robe and cowl shroud him, but his silhouette is well recognized among the crew and his companions.
Cornar is the last of the men to climb into the forward most boat on the portside. The deck is clear except for the figure at the bow.
The Farling moves along the northern coast until it rounds the north eastern tip of the island. In the distance to the south, the northern most port of Soroth faintly comes into view; although the rest of the city is still concealed behind the forest.
For several more minutes the ship travels along the shore and slows at Kenard’s command. The edge of the trees barely conceals the Farling from sight of the city gates and most of the buildings near the northern most harbor. At his call, the anchor is lowered and the large vessel rocks forward then backward as it comes to a rest.
“Lower the boats!” the captain calls out, and three of the four smaller vessels descend into the water.
One by one the small craft are rowed to the rocky shore. Between the crags near the forest’s southern edge is a small beach, just twice as wide as each of the small vessels. The first boat gently slides along the brown sand and embanks on the wet ground.
Immediately thereafter, Cornar and Nordal jump out on either side. The rest of the party in the vessel moves to the bow and follows the two warriors.
With everyone but the crewman piloting the craft on shore, the last two men push the vessel back into the water and it rows back to the Farling. Both other vessels do the same and the small army of twenty men, excluding the shrouded figure as well as Kalder and Tilthan, are all on Sorothian soil.
Once the three small boats are brought alongside the Farling and hoisted against the hull, Kenard calls for the anchor to be lifted. As the anchor rises from the water the vessel continues southward. The captain steers the ship himself as he moves the vessel further eastward to comply with the traffic laws of the Soroth harbors.
The Farling passes the eastern docks, and they are mostly full. It is a busy day along the harbors; the peak influx of trade occurring just several days after Iltar’s expedition departed Soroth. This time of year brings a great deal of trade to the small island. Crops are imported from the surrounding islands as well as the western coastal cities of the mainland.
Almost a quarter of an hour later, the ship rounds the southeastern tip of the island, nearing the main port they had left only two weeks prior.
An empty wharf near the western part of the main harbor catches Kenard’s eye, and he steers the ship toward it. As the ship drifts, several other trading vessels leave the harbor and pass the Farling on either side.
Nonchalantly holding the helm, Kenard calls out, “Drop anchors!” With that said, the captain smiles as he turns to his first mate next to him, “Now Cadru, we sit back and relax.”
Meanwhile, at the bow, the shrouded figure turns and walks toward the vessel’s portside rail. He waits patiently as the crewmen move the gangway from the deck to the opening on the portside rail and extend it across to the pier. All the while, the ship gently rocks in the waves caused by other vessels moving about in the harbor.
After several minutes of being docked, a voice speaks from out of nothingness.
“We’re both here, Master Iltar,” Kalder’s voice whispers behind the cloaked figure.
“Stay close, and don’t bump into anyone,” Iltar snarls from under the hood of the robe.
Just as the three men, two concealed from sight, descend the gangway a hurried man comes running down the pier.
“You can’t moor here! This wharf is reserved for the Traveling Sentinel!” the man breaths heavy as he reaches the vessel.
Walking around the man, Iltar gives him a hard look. He recognizes him as the harbormaster. A shrewd man who was meticulous at keeping his po
rt in perfect order.
“Then you’ll have to take that up with Captain Kenard,” the necromancer says from under the cowl.
“Kenard?!” the harbormaster quizzically retorts. “He’s out to the mainland. I don’t know who you are but you need to move your vessel now!”
Hearing the commotion, Captain Kenard steps down the ladder to the main deck and walks toward the portside rail. Leaning over it he shouts, “Is there a problem harbormaster?”
“You!” the harbormaster cries out and drops his jaw in surprise. “Why are you back?! And I was told you left with a whole ship full of men. Where are they?”
“Dead,” the necromancer coldly states, “I’m the sole survivor. Surely you know who I am.”
“Yes… I believe so, you’re on the council of the Necrotic Order.”
“Good, now that you finally realize, go send a runner to gather the Order’s council members. I am headed there at once,” the shrouded necromancer says in a disgusted tone then quickly walks past the harbormaster, who is still standing on the pier attempting to piece things together.
“I’m guessing you want me to move this ship?” Kenard calls over the rail sarcastically
The harbormaster lets out a breath, as if letting out steam, “Yes! Move your ship and wait beyond the docking routes. We will send someone for you when a wharf becomes available.”
With that said the harbormaster follows the shrouded figure down the pier waving his hands in frustration.
Meanwhile, Kenard laughs hysterically as he turns to several of the crewmen standing near him. He struggles to muster a word but motions for his first mate at the helm to move the ship.
* * * * *
Not long earlier, the late morning sun beats upon Cornar and the others standing on the shore. To the east, the Farling drifts away and into deeper waters.
“Now that everyone is here we’ll break up into groups. The seven of you,” Cornar points to the mages, “Cast your invisibility spells, and make sure yourself and two others are covered. Stay close to each other, my men will lead the way to my home. From there we will regroup and continue with our plan.”
The Dark Necromancer Page 22
