Chapter Eight
Darr sighed and began talking. “When I was a small child, yes small in size, but also young, I fell ill with a strange fever that made my skin scarlet. My parents prayed to the God of Light and swore an oath. If I was spared from death they would give me over to the church. My parents knelt in vigil at my bedside to keep the angel of death at bay, so that the church could do with me as was the will of the God of Light.
“I was blessed and God spared my life. As promised, my parents gave me to the church. I was raised by the monks. When I was almost eight years old I had lived in the monastery for two years, I saw a monk outside practicing with a longbow. The brother was firing his arrows at targets. He paused to draw another arrow and saw me watching him. He beckoned me over and offered to show me how to use the bow. I was a natural, and needed little instruction.” Darr took a breath and his brow furrowed. “Later that same year, while walking the grounds of the monastery, I picked up a stick while I was collecting firewood. I swung it through the air as though it were a sword. A teacher, a different monk, saw me doing so and took up the opposition. We played at a mock sword fight, and so began my training as a warrior for the God of Light.
“Did you know, of course you don’t know I have not old you yet.” Darr smiled a sly smile. “I have been trained to use a Bastard sword with one hand and a shield. Yes, that is correct, a Bastard sword with one hand. A normal person cannot just walk up and use a Bastard sword with one hand. One would need specialized training.” Darr smiled, pleased with himself.
“At the age of sixteen, I was given my arming sword. It was then that I swore an oath never to draw my sword in anger or to use it for my own gain, only in defense of the meek. I then promised to be honest even in the face of my enemies, even if it meant my own death.” Darr looked up. “I am a Paladin of the Light. I walk in the dark places where normal men dare not tread. I lift the weak to new heights, the likes of which they have never seen. I stand in the Dragon’s fire and fear it not, for the flame does not touch me. My sword is the instrument of righteousness.”
As Darr spoke these words of power, he gave off an aura of confidence. It was a visible light that shimmered around him. “I come from Dragon Head Island just off the coast of the J-hook peninsula, the largest landmass in the world. You may know where that is or you may not. Ask me one day and I’ll show you on a map,” he said as he polished his breastplate with a fragment of cloth from his bag. His eyes were misty, as he was remembering important memories from his past. “How did I get here, you might ask. A few months ago the ruler of the kingdom where I am from, the Kingdom of Besiant, Tywin Modnar, began to erect temples to a new deity. He banished the clerics of the other religions out of his kingdom. He destroyed the temples of the God of Light and replaced them with a new god. He called that god Azanth. The new god’s symbol is fire. The king converted his people by the sword wielded by a special group of soldiers. The fighters went throughout his kingdom. All the clerics of the other religions, not only of the God of Light, went into hiding along with the faithful followers. It was rumored that the king refused to listen to his council, who begged and cried out to him for mercy. It was whispered that the king’s detractors vanished mysteriously—including the king’s own daughter, Princess Giselle. The princess was beloved by everyone. All the subjects of the kingdom lived in fear of their ruler.”
Darr stood and began to pace around the camp as he continued. “The Church of Light sent me to discern what had happened to our king. They wanted to know what had him under duress or influence that would make him turn from the God of Light. I infiltrated the detachment of killers that the king used to do conduct the genocide of religions. This brutal force was called The Embers. They were to convert by the sword members of the thieves and assassins guild. Such people, I do not mind killing. My ability to execute caught the eye of the leader. I was selected as a full member of the Embers.” After he polished the breastplate, Darr took up his sword and began to sharpen it in a methodical motion. The act of sharpening his sword brought him comfort. “After a short period of time and a great deal of investigation, I discovered the king was possessed by a planar creature by the name of Farwandi. Yes, a demon from the plane of time years ago. In the past, in desperation to save his kingdom from destruction by a hostile army, a ruler made a pact with the creature. The pact was a relatively simple power in exchange for worshippers. But now, in our time, the creature had come to collect on the pact. The evil thing stole the king’s soul and confined it in a mystical prison on that other plane of existence that was a large purple gemstone. I knew I must fight on two different fronts, two different worlds. To save my king, first I had to stop a mass conversion of the town that was faithful to the God of Light. I knew that most of the townspeople would be killed during this possession. It was then that I met a man known to me as Lord Emmett, who taught me a dark ritual. One that I did not want to learn. Lord Emmett assured me that once I had learned and had performed this ritual, the spell would then leave my mind. I would not know that I had performed it. As you can tell,” Darr forced a nervous chuckle from his throat, “since I am telling you about it, the memory is still here. It didn’t leave.” He tapped a finger on the side of his head. “Either Lord Emmett lied or he was wrong.” Darr picked up his wine sack, opened it up, and emptied half of it into his mouth. He swallowed, and then put his sword away. “This deity from the plane of time, Farwandi, worked on a ritual of his own. A dark ritual that would allow him to draw energy from all of the worshippers and cause a blight to spread forth throughout the kingdom, killing every one of the worshippers. The energy from those people would transfer into this monster, allowing him to manifest on the physical plane of existence. I couldn’t let that happen.” Darr sat straighter and looked each of his friends in the eye, one by one. “And I didn’t let that happen. With the ritual that Lord Emmett gave me, I opposed the creature directly. This wasn’t as easy as it sounds. For a while on the time plane, many extra-planer creatures attacked me and tried to stop me from completing my goal. Inevitably, through more fights than I plan on describing tonight, I defeated the evil creature on his own plane. I released my king’s soul from the massive purple gemstone that was its prison. The entity did have the last laugh over me, though. I first released my king’s soul and then slayed beast. As the entity was fading it made me enjoy my time in shadow and cast me out of his plane. I fell end-over-end through the transportation ether and into the throne room of the Shadow Dark. That’s right, I fell from the time plane into the throne room of Mooreclasain. The emperor recognized me instantly as a paladin of the Light. His men were on top of me before I could scratch my butt. They disarmed me and remove my armor faster than Wandalor can drink a gallon of wine.” Wandalor lifted one eyebrow. Darr continued. “Immediately to the dungeons I went, where I sat, not knowing what had happened to my kingdom, my king, my religion, or my church. I hoped and prayed that everything had returned to normal. I sat in that dungeon for nearly a year until one of his men took me to the throne room, where I met all of you.” Darr got up, walked over to his bedroll again, and lay down on his side to face the fire.
Charlotte nodded to Darr. “You are a true paladin, Darr. I am sure your king is safe and the townspeople sing of your bravery even now.”
“Hades, woman, don’t tell him that. His ego will be huge for a week,” Johan griped.
Darr grinned. “Thank you, my lady. From your lips to the God of Light’s ear, I hope that is so.”
Chapter Nine
Wandalor sat with his back to a tree, using it as though it was a chair. With his handy sack by his side and a book in his lap, he listened to each person speak until it was at last his turn. He took a draft of wine, cleared his throat, and looked at them. “You want to hear my story? I must confess that I have a problem,” Wandalor said as he gestured to himself. “It is a simple problem: I am honest. I do not lie. I do not have time for lies. I do not have time to remember the lies I have told to people, so I do
not tell them. Lying is not worth my time, and it should not be worth yours. I have only ever told one lie, and I tell it every time I meet someone.” He held up one finger as he said this to them. “Something you need to know is that I am the sole survivor of an expedition to the dark stone city. Wandalor is not my real name.” He paused for a moment, waiting for someone to open their mouth to speak so he could cut them off. Darr did not disappoint. Darr’s mouth opened and Wandalor spoke again, “It is a combination of things that I do, I wander and I know things. Just like Darr is not his real name.” Wandalor pointed to Darr before reaching down to take up a wineskin and drink from it. “I mean he is a warrior. Darr is another name for Thor, the pure warrior from the north who carried the hammer Mjolnir. Johan is not Johan’s real name, either,” Wandalor went on, “We already know that Star is not his last name, not really anyway. It is likely Johan has shortened his mother’s name in remembrance of her or he adopted this name, as it is a name that is used for sailors in a region that he is probably from.” Wandalor motioned in the direction of Johan and then turned to face Thalin. “Thalin. I know this name; this is the name of a great druid of the 12th Circle. I have run across this name in many books that I have read, and I doubt that you are him.” Turning his attention to Gadlin, he continued. “Gadlin, this may be your real name or it may not. You may have done what I have done—chosen a name. There are times that I wish I could kill my parents for naming me what they named me, and as a result I made a name for myself. You, Gadlin, could have actually been named that. Maybe you realized that there could not be many of you named like this and kept your name. Since we are being honest, let us be honest. I will tell you about how I got here.”
Wandalor took another deep draw on his wine sack. He walked over to the pile of wood that Gadlin gathered earlier. He then picked up a suitable branch with green leaves and tossed it onto the fire. The white smoke billowed up for a moment before the flames took hold and smoldered. “Long ago, when the world was young, a spirit walked across the surface of the world. This demon lord discovered a lake of cooling obsidian deep in the mountains. With his claws he carved out an entire city large enough for giants from the enormous block of volcanic glass. Every surface was covered with sigils and runes in an ancient demon-cursed script. Each character was blasphemous with coded keys and incantations. Parts of the writing answered questions that men at the time did not even know to ask.” Wandalor moved the shadows and the smoke of the fire with his hands as he spoke.
“All sorts of demon spirits haunt the cursed city, now hidden; however, desperate seekers of knowledge still make their way to the city. The forbidden site holds all knowledge. That knowledge is hidden within, waiting for those who can decipher it. Now understand this, when I started out I was just a scribe from the nation of Aegis. As a scribe I worked for a lord. Lord Sumter was a 12th Circle sorcerer. There are wizards, there are mages, and then there are sorcerers. Wizards and mages use books to learn spells and they think they are above those who are natural casters. Natural casters are people who have demonic blood in their family tree, people who have draconic blood, or people who have elven blood in their background. Generally speaking, a mage or wizard has read more books about the principles of magic or on the history of magic. Yes, these people have more book learning by the time they get out into the world than do natural casters such as sorcerers.” Wandalor scoffed. “A sorcerer has more, in my opinion, natural talent for Eldritch in their pinky finger than a mage or wizard has in their entire body. Oh, and yes, I am a sorcerer. I am related to an elven household. I am a half elf, you see.” Wandalor moved his hair to reveal an ear the size of a human ear that had a sharp point on the top. “Now, I am about to tell you the name of the family I am related to, and you will soon forget it.” Wandalor spoke the name, then made fast, subtle gesture with his hands and cast a forgetting spell on them as he spoke. “As I said, that name is going to be very difficult for you to pronounce.” Satisfied that his spell was cast successful, Wandalor put another log on the fire and continued his story.
“Now, as I was saying, I had been conscripted. I was a low scribe, a 4th Circle for your understanding. However, I was very talented with languages codes, ciphers, locks, and puzzles. I used to carry with me an assortment of locks made from different metals that came from different lands. Every time I traveled to a new town, I would go to the blacksmith’s shop. I would ask him for an old lock or to buy a lock. I would get the key, of course, and would put it on a string. I did this for a while, until after the expedition to the dark stone city.
“Lord Sumter was engaged by Prince Kasiah. The prince was a tenth-step fighter. The prince had a retinue a four eighth-step fighters, Their names were Fandor, Naman, Kristoff, and Enich. I thought it very strange to be brought along. I was the only one who was not a pureblood human. The prince also had a pair of porters who carried gear. They didn’t carry anything for me. They carried things for the prince and for the fighters. I was curious as to why we did not bring horses or mules. I came to realize we were to climb mountains. Horses and mules do not always climb mountains very well. The two men who carried things were named Parker and Victor.” Wandalor scratched his head, as if trying to remember all the details of his story. “Oh, we also had a healer. Like a chirurgen. Now, it is going to be difficult for you to understand how I say this fellow’s name. It is not like he was easy to forget. I wish I was able to forget him. I have tried.
“I have just passed over the names of the prince’s retinue and not described them very much, because there is not really a whole lot to describe about these four men. I mean, they were meat shields with swords, and that’s not something I am really interested in remembering. Lord Sumter, well, he would become somewhat of a mentor to me by helping me change my ideas on what I wanted to do with my life. He was the very first person who ever pulled a spell out of me, but I digress. Cosmo the healer, the ‘high healer’, always seemed to be high on something natural. I am sure it would have grown somewhere. His actions, language, and mannerisms changed after he inhaled, ate, or otherwise consumed this natural material. That is why I called him the ‘high healer’. Do not misunderstand me, Cosmo was an excellent healer.” Wandalor paused and walked over to the wagon. He rummaged around in the supplies for a moment and pulled out another wine sack, and took a drink.
“Cosmo was one of the most well-read humans I have ever met. He was indeed, without a doubt, the person who gave me the desire to read. Cosmo absolutely loved the fact that I was half elf. As it turned out, Cosmo had read many books on half species. I did not know much about my own lineage or where I had come from, other than my parents of course. I mean where the half races had come from, but he knew. Cosmo shared information with me. At the time, I was not really sure if I could believe it. I was not positive if he was on his herbs or if he spoke the truth.” Wandalor looked to the sky and then ran his fingers through his hair for a moment.
“Cosmo started out as a blacksmith, he once told me. After he once put his hand down in the wrong place in the forge and picked his hand back up, missing some of his fingers, that ended his career as a blacksmith. He took up studies to be a healer. Cosmo was the kind of person who, if there were insects or other pests, would gently move them out of the way. If a bug landed on him, he would not kill it. He endured the sting of the bite, pulled the bug off, and went on with life. Yes, he was a strange sort of man, and we became friends.”
Wandalor stopped speaking, looking down at his feet and holding a wine sack in his right hand. His hair began to fall down into his face and he looked up at his friends. “If I go on too much further and get too deep into this wine sack, I will begin telling you the epic story that is the dark stone city, and that is not what you really want. I will tell you about Cosmo. I will tell you about the fighters and the retinue of the prince, and about Lord Sumpter. Is that really what you want to know? No, you want to know the short and sweet.” Wandalor looked at Charlotte and his other friends.
“Ge
tting to the dark stone city was no small feat. It lay deep within the mountains. The city presence had attracted all sorts of fell beasts and warped natural creatures that live there. We had to contend with the environment and with twisted fauna. Once in the city, we had to find the answer that we were sent there to find. That was not an easy task. The city was scaled for giants. The whole layout seemed to change. In addition, the city was dead. The alleyways were populated by living seekers, obsessed with searching the streets. The dead called the city their grave. There were the demons and other fell creatures attracted to the place.”
“It took us quite a while to find what we were looking for. Once we did so, neither I nor my mentor could immediately decode or translate it. We had to scribe it, to write down the questions that we had and write down the answers that we found. We took rubbings from the wall. You understand the phrase rubbings from the wall, right?” Everyone nodded at Wandalor, including Charlotte. “Good, then I will not have to explain it. Lord Sumpter had a spell on a scroll that he used to transport us out of the city. He was unrolling the scroll, but not before we met someone who had come to dark stone city with the express intent of raising dead and fallen creatures. We met Mooreclasian.”
Wandalor raised an eyebrow. “That is correct. My group fought him and his two people. It was just three of them in the city. At the time there were ten of us in the city. When we finally made it through the portal, there were only four. As the portal went up and we made a mad dash to get through it, I could hear Moorclasian calling us. He said without malice, ‘You will carry a taint of the necromancer for many years to come. I will hunt you all down one by one.’ Mooreclasian and Prince Kasiah had crossed paths before. Mooreclasian had no, has, a protracted memory and can hold a grudge a long time.”
The Travelers' Song Page 7
