Treachery in the Kingdom

by Dan Zangari

  “Stay close,” Iltar looks to Dendra. “We’re going out through the main foyer, just remember to wait for me to open the doors.”

  * * * * *

  Half an hour later, Iltar and his four companions invisibly descend the curving stairwell leading to the Main Hall’s basement; they had scaled the wall along the western wing by a rope Nath had let down, then entered the building through doors leading to the circular fourth floor.

  The stairway to the basement empty into a large circular room, slightly smaller than the central section of the building. This lower level is a library for the most advanced aspects of the magical arts; during the daytime, it’s only open for masters, instructors and graduates of the Order.

  Iltar’s band quietly sneaks around the outer wall of the basement room until they reach the straight stairwell leading to the archive’s entrance; like earlier that day, four members of the Kingdom Guard stalwartly guard it.

  In an instant, all four guards groan in agony, and blood spills from their necks, trickling down their breastplates.

  “Alarm–” a guard gasps.

  Though wounded, the guardsman nearest the stairs on the left reaches toward a squared protrusion on the wall, but his arm is swiped away by an unseen force.

  As each guard collapses, the infiltrating necromancer appears upon the stairwell.

  “Good…” the word oozes from Iltar’s lips. “Open the doors while I cast my illusions.”

  Dendra appears from Iltar’s veil of magic and grabs the keys on the guards near the archive’s doors. She inserts both keys, turning them in unison and a soft clicking resonates from the doors.

  “Nemral,” Tilthan whispers. “Go check on the patrol.”

  “Gladly,” the thief replies and passes Iltar, who finishes his magical incantation.

  White-gray magic wisps from Iltar’s hands and surrounds each guard. Within a moment, four perfect illusions take shape over the corpses.

  “Move them!” Iltar barks, striding past the invisible thieves, illusions, corpses and former guardswoman.

  He opens the doors and speedily makes his way through the archives and arrives at the northern wall. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Iltar examines the various bookshelves. After a moment, he notices the scroll case Rinden used earlier to unlock the hidden door.

  Iltar meticulously pulls the various books on the adjoining bookshelf, then removes the two books from the shelf near his waist, revealing the keyhole-indentation for the scroll.

  “Ith Namak Sithuey!” Iltar utters the words while inserting the scroll case into the indentation. Once inserted, he violently grabs the bookshelf and swings it open.

  “You must really want that scroll,” Tilthan quips with a laugh as Iltar reveals the abysmal corridor.

  “Get to work!” Iltar shouts, looking toward the invisible Tilthan. “And take off your cloak!”

  “Fine,” Tilthan sighs, becoming visible. He shakes his head and readjusts the magical lenses on his face, cautiously approaching the mystical corridor.

  After several minutes, Tilthan asks sarcastically, “So, what am I looking for?”

  “I don’t know!” Iltar blurts. “Something to disarm the traps.”

  “Probably in there…” Tilthan mutters and reaches into his pack for a light stone. With the light stone in hand, the thief stretches it toward the edge of the blackened corridor, but it doesn’t illuminate the hidden hall.

  “The bodies are all tucked away,” Dendra reports while nearing Iltar.

  The necromancer nods, and Tilthan’s outburst draws his attention.

  “I can’t see anything! Nath, go stick your head in there!”

  “Me?” Nath blurts from Dendra’s right, still invisible. “Why don’t you do it?”

  “I don’t want to get my head chopped off!” Tilthan retorts.

  “Oh, where is your sense of adventure?” Dendra gripes and turns toward Nath, “Give me those specks. I’ll do it.”

  Nath unlatches his cloak and gladly hands his magical lenses to Dendra.

  The former guardswoman strides to the black corridor and sticks her head in.

  While watching her, Tilthan winces and tightly shuts his eyes, muttering, “Oh no… I can’t watch.”

  “Tell me what I’m looking for, Tilthan,” Dendra demands with a sigh. “There are a bunch of moving lights in the wall.”

  “Is it safe?” Tilthan asks with hesitation.

  “No,” Dendra mutters in a sarcastic exaggerated tone. “Of course it’s safe, you fool!”

  “Yeesh,” Tilthan sighs and sticks his head inside the corridor. “You don’t have to be so harsh—Whoa! This could take a while.”

  “How long?” Iltar grumbles.

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll need Nath’s help, and Nemral’s when he returns. We’re okay to step inside a phineal or two.”

  Nath reluctantly heads for the darkened corridor while Dendra steps backward and hands the lenses to him.

  “Good luck,” she says with a smile and steps beside Iltar, folding her arms.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Tilthan and Nath emerge from the abysmal veil.

  “Well,” the masterful thief says with a smile, “It’s finished. We’re clear all the way to the end of the corridor.

  “Now, there better be something worth a pretty-dorin in the vault.”

  “Is coin all you think about?” Dendra raises her brow at Tilthan.

  “No… it’s what I can get with it!”

  Iltar cautiously steps toward the opening in the wall and asks, “Are you sure it’s clear?”

  “Yes,” Tilthan rolls his eyes. “I sent Nemral all the way down the corridor and back. He didn’t die.”

  “So casual about everyone else’s life but your own,” Dendra mutters, pushing past the thieves and disappearing into the corridor.

  Iltar moves right behind her; it’s lit by a bright glow off by the walls, ceiling and floor. Each surface in the corridor is seamlessly smooth, and it’s perfectly square in shape.

  “Which way do we go, Iltar?” Nemral calls from the end of the corridor, two hundred phineals away from the opening in the archives.

  “North, and three floors down!”

  Iltar and Dendra soon enter a circular room with three branching corridors. The room is made of the same substance as the trapped hall.

  “That would be this way,” Nemral points to the hallway opposite the one Iltar had just traversed.

  “Don’t get lost,” Iltar warns. “Rinden said this was a maze.”

  “Okay,” Tilthan rubs his hands as he and Nath enter the circular space. “North, right?”

  “Yes,” Iltar snarls, striding to the aforementioned hallway.

  The small party quickly follows their leader down the bright corridor. After a hundred phineals, rows of floor-to-ceiling windows line the corridor, clearer than glass.

  “What is this place?” Nath questions aloud while he and the others gaze through the transparent panes.

  Beyond the windows on the party’s left, an enormous room spans almost a grand phineal on either side. Its depths reach several hundred phineals and all throughout it are towering rows of shelf-like structures, with a variety of strange objects neatly organized upon them.

  “Rinden said it was like a store house,” Iltar answers the thief’s quandary with a tone of annoyance. “For ‘unsanctioned magical devices.’”

  “Like our cloaks,” Nemral observes.

  “Or lenses,” Nath adds. “I bet there are some amazing things down there.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Iltar bellows. “We are here for the scroll, that’s all!”

  Tilthan leans to Nath and whispers, “While he’s looking for that scroll, I’ll be looking through that trove.”

  Hearing Tilthan, Iltar clears his throat and glances over his shoulder at the thief.

  “Or not…”

  The party continues down the corridor for almost half a grand phineal before arriving
at an intersection, splitting to the right and left. An oval outline marks the center of the wall, directly in front of the hallway, glowing a pale-gray-green hue.

  “Right or left?” Dendra asks while looking either way. The corridors continue on for hundreds of phineals, then turn toward both the south and north. “I’ll go right.”

  “Wait,” Iltar beckons and steps toward the oval in the wall. He grazes the surface within the glowing lines, then steps back and looks at the thieves. “What does this look like to you?”

  “A doorway?” Nath raises his brow. “But the ones in Merda were like a peaked arch.”

  Tilthan adjusts his magical spectacles, then steps beside Iltar. He examines the area of the wall within the circular outline, focusing immediately to the left of the glowing lines.

  “I think there’s something here,” Tilthan whispers, reaching toward the left of the oval shape. Just as he touches the wall, the surface within the glowing lines compresses and quickly slides open, revealing a circular chamber.

  The newly opened chamber is slightly darker than the corridors, with intricate floor-to-ceiling stonework lining the curving walls every phineal.

  “Check it!” Iltar motions toward the opening and steps back, cautiously studying the new space as Tilthan steps inside it.

  “I think it’s safe,” the masterful thief says, looking at part of the wall along his right. “There is some writing here, too.”

  Iltar quickly steps inside, follow by Dendra and the other thieves. The necromancer looks toward Tilthan’s observation, noticing two columns of rowed lettering in an ancient dialect and script of their language. Each row glows with a gray-pale-blue hue, except the row on the top right which pulses a vibrant green.

  “What do you suppose this means?” Tilthan asks. “These writings don’t make any sense…”

  “Yes it does,” Iltar snarls and touches the row two below the uniquely lit script.

  A light hum resonates in the room and the opening closes. The top row of lettering changes color, matching the others. Then, the third row pulses a vibrant green.

  Not a moment later, the oval doors open, revealing a corridor identical to the one the party had just come from.

  “Now what?” Nath asks and looks to Iltar.

  “Follow me,” the necromancer says with intrigue and anticipation, then exits the circular chamber.

  “So we just step in, touch the wall and step out?” Nemral ponders aloud, “That’s weird…”

  The others nod their heads in confusion, agreeing with Nemral’s observation, but Tilthan loudly interjects, “Wait! Is this like that lift in Merda?”

  “Precisely,” Iltar says from the corridor. “We’re three stories below where we entered the Inner Depths. Now we need to search for vault’s door along one of the northern walls.”

  “Shall we split up?” Dendra asks.

  “Yes,” the necromancer nods. “I’ll wait here. Pair off and search the branches in this corridor. Don’t lose your heading.”

  Tilthan chuckles and looks to Nath, “We have a compass.” The masterful thief pulls a small circular compass out of his pack and looks at it with a smile, but his cheery expression turns grim.

  “What’s wrong?” Nath asks and looks to the compass. “Oh no… This really is a maze! The spindles are spinning every which way!”

  “Just go!” Iltar growls. “And don’t get lost. Remember, we don’t have all night!”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Nath runs around the corner of the corridor to the left of Iltar.

  “We found it!” the thief yells. “Tilthan’s opening the door. It took us about half an hour to reach it.”

  “Perfect!” Iltar sinisterly smiles. “Show me!”

  “What about the others?” Nath pants as he nears Iltar. “They won’t know where to find us.”

  “I’ll leave an illusion,” the necromancer replies, then utters the words to bring forth the mimicking image of himself.

  Once the illusion forms, Iltar and Nath jog down the corridor. They turn to the north and follow the corridor as it twists and turns, taking the duo in a meandering route toward the hidden vault. The various hallways are lined with doors, all of which are of similar design, but the necromancer pays little attention to them.

  After a quarter of an hour, Iltar and Nath arrive at a corridor with an opening very similar to the lift’s; however, the master thief is nowhere to be seen.

  “Those doors are fake,” Nath points to the doorways on either side of the opening. “When we opened them there was some illusionary magic present, leading to a room, but we could see through it with our lenses.”

  “Where’s Tilthan?” Iltar grumbles and steps toward the opening, peering through the hidden vault’s threshold.

  He sees a white single story room lit like the rest of the Inner Depths, but slightly dimmer. Directly in front of the door sits a long white stone table with sleek sides and sharp edges. Three stone bookcases line the table on three of its four sides, five phineals away from its edge. Each are crafted in a style matching the table, but their shelves glow a pale green hue. Another five phineals from the bookcases, recessed bookshelves line the vault’s walls.

  While Iltar cautiously scans the room, the thief’s voice startles him from the left of the vault.

  “It is safe,” Tilthan says mockingly.

  Iltar glares at the thief, then steps inside. “Never take that tone with me!”

  “Did you find a hidden niche in the wall?” Nath asks while entering the vault. “Like what Remnillia found in Merda?”

  “No…” Tilthan trails off, looking at his pack coyly.

  “Then I suggest you start looking!” Iltar heavily sighs and shakes his head.

  The thieves quickly go about their business, searching the room, while Iltar turns to the table. Upon its surface lay various objects, each strange and unique.

  “Oh!” Nemral exclaims from the corridor. “You found it!”

  “That was quick,” Nath says as he glances over his shoulder to see Nemral and Dendra standing in the opening and entering the vault.

  “I guess that maze of corridors loops around,” Dendra says, examining the room. “What do you want me to do, Iltar?”

  With one of the strange objects in his hands, Iltar looks to the former guardswoman and says, “Help the others search the room. I’m guessing what I am looking for is hidden behind a magical wall of sorts. It’s probably small.”

  Dendra nods and enters the vault. Her and Nemral both make their way to the right and search the shelves.

  While the others search the room, Iltar continues examining the various objects on the table. His eyes are drawn to a thin pale-gray rod, and the necromancer grabs it; it’s a fraction of a phineal in diameter and slightly shorter than his forearm. Four oval outlines line one of its sides while a single oval marks the middle of the rod on the other side.

  The necromancer narrows his eyes and grips the rod by placing his finger tips within the oval outlines.

  “A wand,” Iltar mutters and the gray rod glistens with white-brown light. Transmutive magical particles glow at its tip, then burst to the ceiling.

  In an instant, a stone rod forms from the ceiling and falls to the tabletop, landing with a loud thud.

  With wide eyes, Iltar grabs the opposite end of the rod and lets go of his initial grip.

  “What was that?” Tilthan peers around the bookcase in front of Iltar.

  “I just found a Mogrin Wand,” Iltar says with a childlike smile. “I thought they were just myths.”

  Tilthan raises his brow, then reels back behind the bookcase and continues searching.

  Still smiling at his discovery, Iltar carefully places the wand in his pack, further examining the other magical objects on the table, but is distracted by Nemral’s outburst.

  “I found it! It’s opening!”

  The necromancer turns around, and moves around the bookshelf on the right. Iltar quickly reaches Nemral, who st
ands between two of the recessed bookcases; the thief gawks at the mystical occurrence with awe.

  A square portion of the wall compresses before their eyes, nearly a phineal along each side. The stony surface ceases glowing and slowly slides apart. Within a moment, both portions disappear, revealing a small chamber.

  “Move…” Iltar pushes Nath aside, standing squarely with the opening. The niche is dark, but the necromancer sees the outlines of several small scroll cases.

  As the necromancer reaches his hand into the secret chamber, magical light fills it from each of its interior walls. Three red porous scroll cases rest beside each other with their ends facing the opening.

  Just beyond the red scroll cases sits an elaborate white-metal object, resembling the other cases in size and shape. Draconic claws wrap along its surface while various symbols unknown to the necromancer protrude along the claws. Inlayed jewels line its surface and sparkle with an ever changing light.

  Iltar reaches past the scroll cases, whispering, “The activating scroll… how exquisite!”

  With the activating scroll in hand, Iltar examines it, turning it every which way. His eyes narrow and he grumbles, “How do I open this…?”

  Nemral looks over Iltar’s shoulder and observes the necromancer’s quandary. At that same time, Tilthan and Nath stand beside their thieving companion, intrigued by the find.

  “Maybe those jewels?” Dendra interjects. “Or some magic.”

  Iltar gently presses against the jewels one at a time, but nothing happens.

  “What about those scroll cases?” Nemral suggests. “Do you think they would say how to open it?”

  Iltar looks to Nemral, then places the metallic object within his small pack. The necromancer grabs the nearest scroll case and opens it. Within it are three rolls of magical paper, similar to what he found in the scroll case from Merda.

  “Hold this,” Iltar motions the scroll case toward Nemral, and the thief grabs it.

  With both hands free, Iltar examines the thin sheets. The top is written in the same characters as the document he could not read which contained Ilnari’s address to Merda’s Arch Warder. Beneath it is a sheet containing elvish writing. Iltar quickly peruses it, flipping to the last sheet, written in the common language of Kalda