“As it is commonly known, dragons were said to have lived on Kalda since the beginning of time, when that is I do not know. They are said to be supernatural; having many inherent magical abilities. Some sources claim them to be the Heralds of Magic, having ushered the use of those powers among men.
“The most recent dragon sightings are unclear; much is hearsay and those that claim to have seen a dragon in the past hundred years have no historical basis.
“The latest historically accepted dragon sighting dates back over one thousand years ago, during the revolutionary war against the empire of Karthar.
“Several platinum dragons were seen in the final battle over the now ruins of the grand capital of the empire. However, the surviving dragons disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The remains of the fallen dragons, which were said to be of the crimson breed, were burned by the victors.”
“Strange,” Iltar mutters, “I’ve never heard of that account.” Unknown to Iltar and his scholarly associate, that battle was only an extension of the great tumult that raged for a millennia five thousand years prior to Karthar’s fall.
Iltar continues to read until he comes to his second of the answered questions which concerned the elves, but more particularly their ways and application of magic. The path he and the others discovered weighed heavily on his mind. Knowing he would have to enter Merda at some point, Iltar wanted to gain a greater understanding of how they interacted with the world around them.
“From various records of personal accounts kept at the Order of Histories I found that each have some commonality; the men and women who claimed to have seen the elvish cities described them as towering metropolises with buildings that spire high into the sky and sometimes into the clouds. Many claim that the cities of the elves glow at night with a myriad of colors, glistening by intricate light stones.
“There are many stories, attributed as legend, most of which elude to the elves living in lavish comforts; their lives are completely automated. One man claimed to have seen an elvish device which could travel at incredible speeds, speeding across a carved tube; another claimed that elves used inanimate slaves to do their biddings. One tome, written nearly seven hundred years ago, claims that the elves had perfected magic and embodied the functions of individual magics within devices.
“However, none of these stories have corroborating evidences; many accounts are conflicting. I conclude that many of the stories circulated and recorded are myth; spread around to inspire the men of Kalda, showing them a much grander society than what we presently exist in.”
“They perfected magic?” Iltar wonders aloud. “That sounds like what Amendal mentioned concerning the thieves’ cloaks and the tarrasque. It also could explain the path; it was able to produce illusionary magic at the simplest touch. If that is the case, how much of those other legends are true? And what powers and treasures could be hidden in Merda?”
After a moment, the necromancer looks to the last of his questions and reads the explanation: “Vampires have rumored to have always walked upon the face of Kalda. Many sources cite they are pale and hence the need to drink blood. Some stories, many of which have been used as fictional entertainment, relate that they are immortal.
“There are many accounts that retell the stories of vampires; one of the earliest known myths, a child’s fable in fact, tells of a man named Esmid and is often referred to as the Paled Man Legend.
“According to the tale, this Esmid lived in a cave among nine-legged brown creatures with eyes circling their bodies call, hemolins. Every night Esmid would emerge from the cave with one of his creatures, which would often rest upon his shoulder as he traveled at night in search of small children. It is commonly had in each of the Esmid tales would he used the hemolins to sniff out the children who had not bathed; he would then capture the child and take him or her back to the cave, where the hemolins would feast upon the children’s flesh; but they would leave the blood for Esmid because he had none. Many of the versions claim that the blood of the children revitalized him and brought back color to his skin, which was pale because of his lack of blood.
“This is one of the earlier blood-drinking tales, and since then many more stories have evolved from this nightmarish-fable. Some claim that vampires can only come out at night; although some of the older texts which cite the tale tell of how the trek back to Esmid’s cave lasted many days.
“One account written two hundred years ago cites an ancient passage of text found in the desolate lands and recounts the tales of the vampires being birthed by a deity. Although his name was stricken from the inscriptions, it told a general story that this deity begot them in his own image. Other finds in the area surrounding the inscription gave more details about the deity, describing it as a being with two male personifications and one female personality…”
“Incredible!” Iltar is genuinely taken aback at the words. “This confirms what that beast was claiming about that devourer, ‘worshiping a deity which is as demented as he.’ But who is he? Who's the Devourer?”
Looking further down the parchment, Iltar continues reading, “Of course, everyone knows how to fight one of these fabled beings; strike them in the chest with wood.”
Iltar continues to peruse the parchment, reading more details about the vampires and the various myths and stories associated with them. Once he finishes, the necromancer rolls the scroll tightly and with it in hand rises from his chair to the shelves behind him. He searches for an empty case and deposits the information within, then opens the same chest used to hide the elven scrolls and locks the newly filled case inside the container.
* * * * *
Another month passed, in that time, the council had met several times to discuss the growing affairs of the Order. Their acolyte ranks had risen to over four hundred. To Iltar’s surprise, there were many in Soroth that desired to learn the other magical arts which had been stricken from the previous Order’s learning curriculum.
On a cold winter’s day, Iltar sits alone in his private living quarters. The day is cold enough to keep the necromancer in seclusion. A fire, lit by magical means, provides warmth to the stone tower’s interior. Iltar is quietly enjoying a cup of warm tea in a high back chair that almost swallows him. The steam is aromatically filled with the smell of brandleberry, a sweet yet tart smell that tingles the senses in the mouth to tightening. The necromancer is deep in anticipating thought over the rest of the journey to unravel the secret of the ancient draconic weapons.
A light rattling at the door jars Iltar from his daydreaming and he sets the warm mug of tea on an end table near the chair before rising from his seat.
“Master Iltar,” Belsina’s familiar soft spoken voice creeps through the wooden door. “You have a visitor, Scholar Kilan is here to see you.”
Hearing his maid, the necromancer quickly pushes himself out of the chair and opens the door with anxiousness; it swings outward and both the maid and the historian back away from the opening door. Iltar had deliberately designed it that way to catch an attempting intruder off guard. Not that they would make it past the two guards down stairs, but one such as Iltar could never be too careful.
Once in the anteroom, Iltar motions to the door on his left and Kilan follows him in while Belsina moves down the stairs to the second story of the tower.
“I was wondering when you would arrive, but you chose a dreadfully cold day,” Iltar remarks as the two men walk into the dark private study.
The owner of the tower walks toward the nearest globe of light and touches it, causing magic to illuminate the room.
“This morning I finished transcribing my research, and I knew you would be eager to see it. After all, it has been almost four months since we met last,” Kilan says as he pulls out the visitor seat and sits in it.
“Why don’t you summarize what you discovered,” Iltar sits in his chair, resting his elbows on the arm rests while interlocking his fingers together just in front of his chest.
“I wi
ll start from the beginning. The island of Merdan was discovered by an elf of the same name. For reasons I couldn’t find they settled on the eastern side of the island. From what records we had, I found out that the city of Merda was first a grand fortress, later it became a city.
“While I was searching for information, I remembered a trader in Soroth who has a fascination with elven history. He was kind enough to lend me a rare book on the elves. I suppose it was written by a human who had an intimate knowledge of the elves a very long time ago. The tome was very frail, but that’s not the point.
“In the book it told that a group of elves left the city of Merath, led by Merdan. After they landed on the island they never returned. It wasn’t until generations later that the elves of Merda began to trade with outsiders, human and elf alike. They also built the port of Keth. Merda, the city, was over three days journey on horseback from the bay. Nothing else was really said of the city, other than it remained in seclusion and very few people ever saw the elven home and the white pyramid.
“There was not much else here in Soroth, so I journeyed to Keth to see if I could discover a little more about the island. I learned that nine hundred and forty one years ago a human colony was started on Merdan. A few years after the humans settled, the elves decided to give the port to them. From that point on, all contact with Merda and the elves was kept to visits in the mountains that divide the island in half; there is a small stronghold in a mountain pass, and it’s the only way to the other side. Often elves and humans would meet there to discuss any pending need on either side. Unlike the rest of the elves on Kalda, they were willing to help, but wanted to be left alone.
“Nothing of great importance occurred after that until around four hundred years ago. There was a great exodus of elves from the eastern side to the west. Something had gone terribly wrong in Merda. The elves involved in the governing affairs of the city never revealed to the humans the circumstances of their plight.
“Although the more common population of elves, and some of those in their military, circulated stories of the nightmarish horror of what occurred. They told of werewolves and vampires and how a battle erupted in the city between the two supernatural races. Soon after the stories spread people disappeared, and some transformed into werewolves.
“After that nothing about the city Merda was ever recorded.
“It must have been those stories that gave Merda its haunted reputation. Like anything, I’m sure people exaggerated the tale of its downfall.”
Iltar quietly looks down at the table as Kilan finishes his condensed find. He sees a thin notebook, and motioning to the bound pages asks, “I suppose those are the details?”
“Yes,” Kilan says as he slides the small book to Iltar.
“That was very illuminating,” Iltar says as he pushes the chair back away from the table and rises, moving behind the chair. Like he had done before with Midal, the necromancer reaches for a bag of coins and hands them to the historian.
“You can leave,” the necromancer says in an ungrateful tone as he picks up the book and opens it to the first page of writing.
In response, Kilan rises and bows to Iltar before proceeding out the door.
After a moment, Iltar walks back to his private chambers within the tower. The fire’s warmth wraps around his body and he nestles back into the oversized arm chair then continues reading the detailed summation of history.
The greater description Kilan had produced was detailed with knowledge in how the people of Keth dealt with the lycanthrope outbreak; magical weapons were used to cut the creatures down and their bodies were burned to ash.
Kilan described the fortress of Merda as a giant white pyramid sitting atop a plateau and surrounded by a vast expanse of grassland. A river separated the fortress and the elven city. Merdan buildings towered high, higher than most buildings in the human world, which matched the tales referred to by Midal.
Kilan had also included a map of the island. From the looks of it and the added detail in his writings, all but the western part of the island was surrounded by rocky ground. Thus the reason the elves built the port of Keth. There was a river that ran from the mountains and through the city of Merda, but the mouth of the waterway emptied to a jagged delta. Forests covered most of the eastern landscape, except for the southern part of that side of the island, which is marked as a vast plain.
Once he finishes reading the details, Iltar gently closes the bound pages and rises from his chair. He grabs a thick cloak hanging near the doorway and walks to the door of his lofty apartment then down to the lowest level.
The cold damp air stings Iltar’s skin as he walks out the doorway of the tower. Neither of his guards are at their stationed post outside, but that is quite usual for the cold days such as this one.
In response to the cold, Iltar wraps the cloak tightly around himself as he quickly strides across the stone path to the metal gates leading to the estate.
Quickly opening the gate, with cloak in hand, Iltar jogs to the side door of his parent’s former home. He steps inside and immediately is washed over by a wave of heat. It had been some time since Iltar last set foot in the home; after all, he had given it to his servants and the two guards that watched his forest estate. The very smell of the place conjured up memories of Iltar’s childhood that he quickly shuts out of his mind.
Just as he’s doing so, one of the guards sees Iltar down the corridor leading to the side entry of the home.
“Master Iltar, is there something wrong?” the guard asks as he walks closer to his employer.
Shaking off the thoughts, the necromancer states, “No, Delrin. Go into the city and find Cornar. Tell him I must speak with him at once.”
“Yes Master Iltar,” Delrin states as he walks toward his employer and the door. He grabs several pieces of warm clothing then follows the necromancer out of the house.
“Inform Cornar that I’ll be in my study,” Iltar coldly states and walks for the metal gate.
“Of course,” Delrin responds as he hastily puts on the warm cloak over a thick coat. A moment later he disappears within the stables.
Iltar quickly closes the metal gate in a similar manner as he had opened it and hastily strides to his tower’s entrance. Once he reaches the doors he faintly hears the sound of Delrin’s horse cantering out of the stables.
As Iltar reaches for the door he looks over his shoulder and watches Delrin ride his horse into a gallop down the pathway leading to the forest; the sound of the horses hooves fading into the cold evening.
* * * * *
Two hours later, the necromancer hears the sound of horses racing toward the secluded estate. He rises from his chair in the third story study and looks out the window facing the tower’s courtyard. He can see Delrin and Cornar dismounting their horses beyond the gate. The former enters the stables, and the latter continues toward the gateway, opening it and then closing before walking to the tower.
“This is one dreadful night to summon me,” Cornar says as he opens the door to Iltar’s study.
“We will not talk here my friend,” Iltar says and motions for the warrior to exit the room. He pushes past Cornar into the anteroom and opens the door to the private living area.
“Great, someplace warm,” Cornar says as he walks in and rubs his arms in an attempt to warm himself. “I hope you have something hot to drink.”
“Of course, I don’t want my most trusted ally to fall ill and die on the brink of our great quest,” Iltar states somewhat amused by Cornar’s exclamation; all the while, moving to the raised bar and kitchen adjacently positioned next to the sitting area and in the center of the tower.
The kitchen is a dark brown in color and large enough to prepare a simple meal or heat water. A small metal apparatus sits on the countertop between the kitchen and the living room.
Once behind the bar, Iltar casts a quick spell that ignites the top of the apparatus. He turns around to a stone sink with a spigot jutting out from the wall and plac
es an empty kettle beneath it.
“Cor,” Iltar says as he turns the lever near the spigot, causing water to flow from it, “We have what we need. Now, all we must do is devise a way to sneak off to Merda.”
“Oh?” the warrior asks and sits upon the sofa near the fire. “That took them quite some time to compile all that information. I hope we have more to go on than our last trip.”
“Don’t worry,” Iltar says as he moves the kettle to the apparatus, “We do. We know that there are vampires and werewolves there. As well as a description of the city and the island’s eastern terrain.”
“At least there won’t be any dragons,” Cornar says sarcastically as he leans his head back and looks up at the stone ceiling.
“Werewolves we can kill,” Iltar says as the pot whistles. “The vampires on the other hand might pose a challenge. I’m still worried about this ‘Devourer’. Midal couldn’t find anything about him. The only vampire he mentioned by name was the child stealer, Esmid.”
Cornar laughs at the reference and quips, “Like he exists…”
“What do you want?” Iltar asks as he dismisses the magically lit flame with a brief incantation then turns around to grab two mugs from the rear countertop.
“Do you have any messel?”
“Yes,” the host opens a wooden cabinet above him and grabs a bottle of brown powder which he shovels into both mugs, followed by the boiling water.
The messel Cornar asked for was not only a tea flavoring but also the name of a tree on Kalda. It’s inner bark produces a flavorful substance when ground that can be used in cooking meals or teas.
“Vampires…” the word trails off of Cornar’s lips as Iltar steps from the kitchen to the sitting area.
The Dark Necromancer Page 32
