by Dan Zangari
“Either way, the emissary reclaimed his things and escaped the castle without any harm done to himself. The following day another emissary from Cordath arrived, which concludes that the first was some sort of an assassin sent to murder the prisoner. However, the true fate to the Witch of Negdan is unknown, and she is presumed to have lived a long life in the depths of the prison.
“And now for my deduction; Several aspects of this story do not make logical sense, such as the beyond-human means that the man was able to muster magic in an area known to be devoid of such energies, his escape from nearly six hundred armed guards – none of which I might add were able to apprehend the imposter – and lastly the lack of historical evidence which would mention such an occurrence. None of the archives relating to the Castle’s activities even remotely reflect this story.
“It is my conclusion that the ‘Escape from Los’s Prison Castle’ is a pure hoax, built entirely around an impossible event, one in which would strike fear into the heart of any who heard it.”
Cornar places the tome down with a smile then looks at Hagen whose has an expression of surprise smeared across his face.
“What’s wrong Hagen?”
“You don’t think that story is true do you?”
“Every story like that has some basis in reality,” Cornar remarks. “We’ve seen strange things that many people in our world haven’t. Perhaps this assassin had a device to nullify the inhibiting effect the mages and elves used to create the prison. It’s something we should look into.”
“Wait,” Hagen motions with his open palms, “We can’t lay siege to the castle. How are you going to get in? I read that no one can visit the prisoners, the guards put the prison on high alert at the first sign of anyone approaching, which they can see nearly twenty grand phineals away.”
“We’ll have to infiltrate the prison,” Cornar answers, “The guards seem to be the only weakness, if I can become one of the guards then I can free Iltar.”
“No, no, no!” Hagen shakes his head, stands up and paces back and forth, “You can’t do that! I read that only select members of the Kingdom Guard are stationed there. If getting into the Kingdom Guard is like anything else in this Kingdom it’s going to be impossible.
“We might as well forget this entire ordeal, go live out the rest of our lives with the treasure we found in Merda and just walk away.”
“No,” Cornar sternly states. “I am not going to let Iltar rot in that dungeon. I have lost enough people I have cared about on this adventure. I will not lose him too.
“We survived Merda, slain dragons and prevailed in many other exploits. This will just take a lot of time and planning, but we will break Iltar out of that prison.”
Hagen sighs and shakes his head while Cornar stands up and grabs the Appendix tome, “Let’s put this tome away, then make our way back to that Mage’s Park. Once we get back to the outer city we’ll use the crystal to return to the others and figure our next step.”
“Fine,” Hagen mutters and shakes his head. He waits for a moment as Cornar walks out of the room. “I shouldn’t have gotten on the Farling… No, I shouldn’t have even gone to dinner with Iltar at the Sea Vistonia.”
A moment of silence passes when Hagen leaves the room and walks toward the center of the library. Cornar emerges from the Appendix Chamber and follows Hagen toward the welcoming room.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the librarian asks from behind her desk.
“Yes,” Cornar says with a smile and looks at her before turning down the wide entry corridor. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” the librarian says with a smile then adds, “Remember, truth is contained within tomes and scrolls.”
As the two companions in adventure exit the library, the elderly librarian looks down at the concealed portion of her desk. She pulls a roll of parchment and unravels it, placing two small stones at one of its ends.
At the top of the parchment is an address that reads as follows; “Citizens of Alath, as Grandmaster of the Estate I am taking precautions to forewarn you of a startling development concerning the most recent devastation in our city. It has been brought to our attention that Iltar, son of Adrin and brother of Almar, was not working alone in his efforts to bring added calamity to our people.
“I believe it is possible that they will attempt to come to Alath once they realize Iltar has been captured. The following instructions are unique to each of the various parts of our civil infrastructure:
“Librarians of Alath. The Council of Justice has predetermined two verdicts; imprisonment within the Prison Castle and Execution. If the verdict of imprisonment is chosen, take note of any individual or individuals requesting information concerning the Castle.
“In the event an inquiry is made, return the following parchment to the representative of the Estate that delivered it to you with your description and assessment of it.
“Sincerely, Dorith – Grandmaster of the Estate.”
* * * * *
Several hours later as the sun is setting upon the outer city of Alath, a soft hum resonates through the alley Cornar and Hagen had initially sequestered themselves in the previous night. Magical light casts a green hue upon the walls of the surrounding buildings as an oval outline takes shape upon the exterior wall of the western structure.
Within a moment, the area within the outline compresses and slides apart within the rest of the wall, revealing the abysmal veil which shields the hidden room that leads to the forgotten depths of the ancient world.
Not a moment later, Cornar and Hagen both step through the dark illusionary veil and into the alley.
The warrior looks either way then utters the words to re-conceal the hidden chamber, “Ninda Shre Tolinsura.”
“You want to do this here?” Hagen demands in a worried tone.
“Just read the parchment,” Cornar says as he looks around the alley, “But dispel these illusions.”
The illusionist utters the words to relinquish the magic covering their features then reaches into his small pack.
“I just hope Amendal didn’t miss anything when he wrote down the words to the spell,” Hagen retorts then carefully pulls out a rolled parchment and a small rogulin crystal.
Hagen unravels the parchment with the crystal in one hand then methodically states the words of the magical tongue written upon its surface.
Taking one last sweeping view of the alley, Cornar turns around and grabs Hagen by the shoulder as he finishes reciting the incantation. As the warrior does so, the rogulin crystal glows with a golden light. It quickly surrounds the two companions in adventure then pulls back toward the center of the blue stone, causing Cornar and Hagen to disappear through the golden mystical vortex.
4
Quandry
Meanwhile on that same evening, golden light gathers within a room atop the fourth story of the Estate’s Main Hall. Two figures take shape within the magic then emerge from the mystical portal. They are two of the mages which occupy seats on the Estate’s council, Thranar and Mathal. Both mages are clad in battle armor with channeling staffs hanging at their waists.
“We need to find Dorith,” Mathal says as he looks around the room with angered eyes.
“He might be at his home,” Thranar sternly states, “But we will check his office first.”
Both mages stride from the center of the space and to the northern part of the room where it opens up into a landing which then leads to a circular staircase.
“These Sorothians are quite cunning,” Mathal sighs as he and Thranar reach the stairs.
“Retrieving the Key and the housing will definitely prove a challenge,” Thranar shakes his head and both mages descend the stairs.
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later within the first story of Dorith’s home, the grandmaster of the Estate is standing in a kitchen next to a long island with a large mug of a steamy liquid in his hands.
The kitchen is adjoined by a large ga
thering room and breakfast area to the rear and right of the kitchen respectively. Many of the other participants in the battle which resulted in Iltar’s capture are pleasantly resting in the space including Balden, the mysterious man from Keth and several of the others that came to the aid of the mages as they fought Iltar at the city’s eastern gate.
The half elf is sitting at a bar which lines the island in the kitchen, with Zanille on his left and further beyond the mysterious man from Keth the young man named Saprin. Many of the others are spread around the room, sitting on the two couches and three chairs in the gathering room, while Alnese is busily cleaning dishes in a large sink against the wall to the left of the island.
“It’s starting to get cold,” Dorith comments and looks out the windows which line the breakfast area and the gathering room. The large panes allow a view out the rear of the home where the inner city’s sloping skyline can be seen between the other estate homes behind Dorith’s. “I do hope we see snow soon.”
“It would definitely divert the minds of the people,” Zanille remarks. “And cast a blanket of purity to veil the mayhem.”
Many of the others in the room are quietly conversing with each other when a soft knock emanates from the main doors of the home. Alnese steps away from the sink and disappears through a corridor leading to the foyer.
After a moment, a faint reuniting exchange can be heard between Alnese and another woman followed by footsteps coming from the foyer.
“It’s a pity, you just missed dinner,” Alnese’s voice can be heard from the corridor. “But I am glad you made it back safely.”
Just as she finishes speaking, Alnese emerges from the corridor with Maurin at her side; the latter is dressed in a casual dark grey garb. A dark brown full satchel hangs at Maurin’s side and lightly sways as she walks.
“Greetings Ni’aul,” Dorith says with a smile as he looks at Maurin.
“Dorith,” Maurin tiredly nods her head toward the grandmaster and solemnly looks at him then to the others in the room. Her shifting gaze stops at she notices the mysterious man from Keth sitting at the island bar. “What… what are you doing here?”
Chuckling with a sly grin on his face, Zanille answers, “It’s good to see you too mother.”
With a smile across her face, Maurin quickly darts across the room and toward Zanille, who rises out of the tall chair at the bar. They both tightly embrace each other and Maurin strokes her hand across the young man’s beard, “You shouldn’t be here, how did you know…?”
“I was in Keth when Iltar stormed Merda,” the mysterious man states.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get here sooner,” Maurin’s face twists with concerned intrigue.
“There was another matter I had to deal with,” Zanille answers, “One in which I almost lost my life.”
Maurin’s features turn grim and worry smears across her face.
“Maurin, do you want something to drink?” Alnese asks and grabs one of the many mugs on the island’s countertop. Near the mugs is a tall kettle sitting on top of a metal apparatus with a squared base and prongs which hold up the kettle; beneath the prongs is a small hovering orb of magical flame.
“Yes, some Prudon please,” Maurin answers then asks and gently pulls away from Zanille, “What happened?”
“It is a long story,” the mysterious man from Keth sighs, “I pursued Candersil as he fled Merda in the wake of Iltar’s siege. We fought in the Bay of Keth but he made his escape. I followed him to one of the Dendum isles where a part of Angath’s cult was hiding. Shortly after I discovered them, Candersil caught me and destroyed the island.”
“With what?!” Saprin cries out. “How can someone destroy an island?”
“A weapon,” Zanille answers, “One in which harnesses and magnifies the power of the Ko’delish.”
“And Candersil?” Maurin asks. “What of him?”
“He escaped through a transportium,” Dorith answers and takes a sip of his drink.
“I thought they were all accounted for,” Maurin looks at Dorith with a ghastly expression across her face.
“It was not like any other I’ve seen,” Zanille remarks and sits back down next to Balden. “He undoubtedly had it constructed.”
“This is horrible!” Maurin mutters, amid her despair Alnese comes to her side and hands her the warm mug she had prepared. The steamy water within is a dark purple with small clumps of puffy white pulp.
“First Iltar,” Maurin shakes her head, “Now this.”
“Candersil is obviously not ready to put whatever he is planning into motion,” Dorith observes, “I can’t see any other reason why he would destroy the island unless to cover his trail.
“Are the scrolls in your satchel?” Dorith abruptly changes the course of the conversation.
“Yes,” Maurin distractedly nods her head, “And Riner is dead.”
With her free hand Maurin takes the satchel from off her shoulders and places it on the counter between Saprin and Zanille. “Does father know about Candersil?”
“I told him,” Zanille states and nods his head.
“And?” Maurin anxiously queries.
“I don’t know,” Zanille answers, “The Ril’Sha questioned me while I was recuperating in Usazma’thirl. After our argument they sent the Urima’sha after me, but I was able to escape via the transportium.
“However, two of them pursued me, but I was able to evade them long enough to reach Alath unscathed. I barely made it inside the city when Dorith sealed it. They’re most likely still looking for me.”
After Zanille recounts the tale, Dorith speaks up, “I am not as worried about Candersil as I am with Iltar’s accomplices. Once we have apprehended them we will turn our focus on the Ma’lisha and his Order. Cornar and the others are a more immediate threat.
“The mage I sent to discover where they’re hiding hasn’t returned and I fear they must have apprehended him. Then to make matters worse, the thieves that were with Iltar escaped with the Ka’nakar.”
“I believe they found a Mogrin wand within the Inner Depths,” Zanille interjects. “When we reached the grove mentioned by Nath in his interrogation there was a pit which showed signs of transmutive magic. The lack of matter was equivalent to what Dorith requires to summon Eradas.”
“These humans are clever,” Maurin remarks. “I–”
A loud resounding knock resonates through the foyer which abruptly jars Maurin.
“I’ll get it,” Alnese leans away from the counter then walks from the kitchen and down the hall which leads to the foyer.
The door can be heard opening as well as two faint masculine voices.
“Oh, Uncle Dorith,” Alnese can be heard shouting in a pleasant tone from the foyer, “Masters Mathal and Thranar are here to see you.”
Dorith puts down his mug on the island countertop and glances to the others in the room then walks toward the foyer while saying, “Kedal, please take the satchel to the chamber where I keep my things.”
One of the men sitting on the nearest couch rises from his seat and walks to the island and grabs Maurin’s satchel, then follows after Dorith.
“I thought Dorith was her grandfather?” Balden asks Zanille in a puzzled tone.
“He is,” the mysterious man from Keth answers, “Those on the council just don’t know it.”
“That seems so confusing,” the half elf mutters.
Maurin chuckles and she takes a sip from the large mug in her hands.
* * * * *
“Brethren,” Dorith smiles and opens his arms in a wide gesture as he walks into the foyer, “Welcome back.”
Both Thranar and Mathal solemnly stand in the foyer just beyond the doorway, Thranar has a serious expression across his face while Mathal’s eyes reflect his fierce anger.
“I will leave you three alone,” Alnese says as she quickly walks back toward the corridor which leads to the rear of the home.
Noticing their solemn mood, Dorith’s demeanor becomes seriou
s and he points to a parlor immediately to his right which is connected to the foyer by an archway then says, “Let’s talk over there.”
The three mages silently walk into the room which is quite large. On its wall to their left are windows which allow a view out to a manicured lawn and to the street where Dorith’s home is situated. Two ornate couches are squarely positioned in the center of the parlor as well as two chairs near the archway.
“I take it things did not go well,” Dorith observes as he sits on the furthest couch.
“No,” Mathal shakes his head. “Cornar and the others were gone when we arrived at the retreat.”
“We also found Credal’s body,” Thranar sternly growls then adds, “He was stabbed in the heart by a bladed weapon.”
“I see,” Dorith nods his head and looks at the cushions of the couch he is sitting on. “I feared as much when he didn’t return.”
“The inn keeper stated that Cornar had left seven days ago with another of his band, someone named Hagen, immediately after a fierce battle with Credal which resulted in the partial destruction of the retreat’s main lodge,” Thranar adds. “But he did not know where Cornar went.”
“Six days before the trial…” Dorith mutters and strokes his bald chin. “Hagen is an illusionist, perhaps…”
“What are you getting at Dorith?” Mathal asks in an agitated tone.
“It would take them six days to arrive from Klath, by magically enhancing their horses, I wonder if they came here in search for Iltar.”
“Then they would have just arrived yesterday,” Thranar states then squints his eyes in thought.
“But has anyone attempted to enter the inner city with an illusion?” Mathal asks. “I’m sure you’re taking precautions.”
“No one,” Dorith shakes his head then adds, “It’s possible they could have scaled a portion of the wall at the outer city’s borders; there have been gaps in the patrols. However the inner city is secure, someone would be spotted if they attempted to scale the walls and we have mages casting dispelling magic at the gates.”
