Cyrus walked into the massive room that sat at the top of Dragon's Keep. The
room was so large that the dim light coming from the gaping opening overhead
couldn't even penetrate the shadows. Skeletons lay here and there, charred to
bone. Standing in the center of the room was Slag, wings spread and neck
snaking to and fro. A hiss escaped his mouth every now and then followed by a
wisp of smoke. The great red dragon charged with a speed belied by its massive
size. As he dove away, Cyrus realized that it was too late. One of the dragon’s
claws grazed him, tearing through the flesh of his face and chest. As he
writhed on the floor screaming in agony, the dragon laughed. “Foolish mortal.”
It bellowed. “You dare disturb my lair.” Cyrus looked around in panic, his hand
trying to staunch the blood flow from the area where his left eye used to be.
He was alone here. No one was around to offer him any help. He realized then
that it was over. This dragon would kill him. Slag inhaled deeply and shot a
cone of fiery death at the helpless man that was crouching before him.
Cyrus awoke with a start,
sweating profusely. He looked around in confusion before realizing where he
was. Breathing a long sigh of relief, he sat up and stretched the tight muscles
in his back and neck. The nightmare always ended the same. What always confused
him was the fact that he wasn't alone in that room the night he had lost his
eye. McGowan and Veronica had been there, as had his brother and Thordex. He
always wondered why the nightmare stayed the same. It never seemed to go away.
He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his face, tied his hair into a ponytail,
then walked over to where Avengard sat.
“How much longer till morning?”
Cyrus asked the paladin.
“Talric left with Veronica an
hour ago.” He told him. “The sun will rise soon. You seem restless. Is anything
troubling you?”
“Just a bad dream.” He
answered, looking at Avengard somberly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you
something. How long do these Peacekeeper life debts last anyway? I don't mind
your company, but I was just wondering.”
The paladin looked at him and
smiled. “My life debt to you was paid when I took that blade for you in
Lockenwood.”
“Then what made you decide to
continue traveling with us? I thought this was considered a debt of servitude
until you've paid it. Wouldn't you want to go your own way once a life debt is
fulfilled?” the big man said as he toyed with the medallion around his neck.
Every time he toyed with the trinket, his mind wandered back to Metier, and
Eileia.
The smile disappeared as
Avengard looked out to the forest in the distance. “My family is dead. I have
no other relatives, but I do have good friends who have showed honor. Both in
battle and towards each other.”
He looked at Cyrus with a grief
stricken smile. “I couldn't ask to fight along side a more noble group of
knights than I do now.”
Cyrus looked at his friend and
put his hand on his shoulder. “And we couldn't ask for a more honorable man
than yourself.”
The two friends continued the
remainder of the watch together, talking about adventures and tragedy long
forgotten until the sun shone over the mountains, far off into the distance.
Malkar thumbed through a volume
of books that were spread out on the massive table before him. He had been
sitting in this accursed room all night. The light of the sun was just now
filtering through the window, blinding him with its brilliance. Brushing his
long black hair from his eyes, he turned the page of the book, his young, evil
eyes glancing quickly through the passages that were before him. He hoped a
clue to what he sought would turn up in one of these books, his patience
wearing thin. A shuffle in the distance caught his ear and he looked up to see
Zolaar approaching the table. He was glancing nervously from one side to the
other, sighting the text that filled the shelves on either side of him. When he
reached the table, Malkar looked back down at the volume he had opened.
“What report do you have for
me, Zolaar?” the young mage asked.
Zolaar cleared his throat and
spoke in a shaky voice. “ Spearzor and the others were not at the rendezvous
when I arrived. The mage and his friends captured me and, if not for my
bracers, I would not have escaped. They asked me questions about the Goldmantle
man that was killed outside Metier. Apparently, one of your own followers was
killed and the body left there to rot, including the ring you have them wear.
They would now be dead and the Talisman in custody had your men not been so
sloppy with that soldier.”
Malkar shot him a glance that
bore through Zolaar's head, causing the dark cleric to stiffen. “Remember your
place, Zolaar. You were responsible for the death of the soldier, if I remember
correctly. Don’t make me regret sparing your life when I received that
news.”
The mage stood from his seat,
slamming a tome closed and picking it up. He began pacing back and forth, his
black robes brushing the floor behind him with every step, the book tucked
under his arm as he pondered his next move.
“And what of Spearzor?”
Zolaar sighed. “Captured by the
city guard. They started a brawl with them in the tavern and were arrested. I
found out about them just before I left town.”
An angry expression fell over
Malkar's slim face. “Take a few of the wizards and go after them. I don’t care
who you kill to release them, just get it done. When you are well outside of
the city, I want Spearzor killed. Let those who were with him know how much I
detest incompetence. Afterwards, I want the wizards to create a dimensional
doorway to rendezvous with the others in Barlow. I have set up a welcoming
party for our friends between here and the Shadow Mountains. If the Talisman
must die, so be it.” He held out the volume in both hands, his brow furrowing
in concentration. The book's color turned ash gray then disintegrated into
dust.
“I will tolerate no more
failure from you, Zolaar.” He scowled as the dust filtered through his fingers
to rest in small piles on the floor. “ I want those incompetent adventurers
dead or, by the gods, I swear you will suffer the same fate as this book. Now
leave me. The sight of your pitiful face turns my stomach.”
Zolaar turned to leave. I will
find the treasure you seek, you foolish bastard, he thought. With it, I will
destroy you and conquer this land myself. He paused briefly at the door,
turning around to see Malkar hunched over another book. He gritted his teeth
and left the building, planning for the day when he would cut out the mage's
black tongue and squash it beneath his boot.
Malkar scanned over the pages
in the ancient text, but his mind wasn't on the words. He felt the hair on his
arms stand straight up on end. He could feel a tickling sensation in his mind
as if someone were trying to enter without his permission. He knew what that
meant. Someone was trying to get in contact with him.
The mage sat on the floor with
his legs crossed in front of him. He cleared his mind and focused on trying to
make the thoughts he was receiving intelligible. When the link was finally
established, he smiled at the recognition of the voice.
What is the status on the item you seek, Malkar? The voice whispered.
We are getting close; I can feel it. It won't be long now, the mage answered back.
There was a short pause. Things are not as easy as they seem. It is
rumored that Blaspherion seeks the same item as you. You may run into him soon.
Malkar smiled. I'm not worried. I have the power of a dark
priest to assist me.
And what of those that hunt you? the voice shot back. Have they been eliminated?
Not yet, but soon. I have another need for one of them. He may know the
location of the Eye and not even realize it. They continue to pursue me even
now.
Another short pause was
followed by a mental growl. If they find
out what it is you seek, they may reach the Eye before you. That cannot happen.
I agree,
thought the mage. We are unraveling the
mystery of the bard as we speak. I will contact you when I receive more
information.
I will be waiting, brother.
Malkar smiled as the connection
was severed. Fear not brother, he thought to himself. Soon we shall be immortal
and our rule will be merciless and absolute. Nothing will stop us then. Hanging
on that thought, Malkar stood and walked back to the desk. It was time to
continue the search.
Talric looked around wearily as
he traveled down the east side of the great mountain. He was nearly to the base
of the range now. His thoughts were on the woman that now sat before him,
cradled in his embrace. The litter the others had made proved to be useless
soon after he left the campsite. The rocky terrain made Veronica's head jerk to
and fro violently as she rode on the stretcher, so Talric decided it best for
her if he just set her in the saddle in front of him. He held her closely now;
whispering soothing words into her ear as he gently stroked her hair from her
face. He sighed inwardly to himself and then led his horse forward at the
quickest pace possible. He wanted this nightmare to end soon. He had finally
found someone he could share his innermost feelings with. Now there was the
possibility she would die if he didn't get to town in time. Her fever had risen
slightly when he had left the others, now she groaned quietly as they rode as
if trying to speak. Blood trickled through the bandage he had made for her arm.
The wound refused to heal. Talric
pushed the uneasiness from his mind and started remembering the first time he
had met Veronica. She had stolen his heart soon after he joined Cyrus in his
quest to hunt down Malkar. They had traveled together merely as friends, but
Talric's admiration of the human woman soon grew into affection between the
two. Finally, he had told her of his love for her when the two had been
attacked by some of Malkar's cultists. Talric had taken a sword meant for
Veronica; expressing his love to her in what he thought was his dying moment,
but McGowan had soon arrived and healed his wound. Talric, believing he was
wrong to admit the feelings he felt for her, lied and told her he remembered
nothing after he had been run through. Heartbroken, he never spoke of it again.
As Talric reached the base of
the mountain, a scream in the distance interrupted his thinking. Stopping his
horse, he listened with his keen hearing to place the origin of the noise. He
heard the unmistakable voices of orcs in the distance, just inside the forest
between the mountain and the road. Moving into the tree line, he used his empathic
skills to communicate with his horse, asking her to be silent and stand still.
Satisfied that Veronica wouldn’t fall off of the horse, he crept quietly
towards the ruckus. What he witnessed was confusing and horrifying.
In a small clearing, he could see
the unmistakable forms of six orcs. Five were gathered around the last, kicking
it mercilessly as it screamed in pain. He realized by their markings then that
these were some of the orcs that had attacked the caravan outside of Metier.
They were beating one of their own! Talric crept as close as he dared and
watched the physical abuse silently from behind a dense bush. The elf knew a
little of their language, picking up several curses and insults that they
yelled at their unfortunate comrade. Talric was about to walk away when he
noticed that the hands, a noose tied from its neck to a nearby tree, were bound
on the one orc. That doesn't seem just, he thought. They won't even give him a
chance to defend himself. Against his better judgment, the ranger in him made
up his mind to do something about this cruelty. Orc or not, the creature
deserved the right to defend itself.
He took his bow from off his
shoulder, grabbing three arrows as well. Two arrows were black shafted, the
last red. The red had small grooves cut into the shaft randomly, ending in a
strange glass fletching. Talric smiled as he inspected the arrow; turning it
over in his hands, satisfied with its craftsmanship. He quickly shot off the
two blacks, each burrowing into the backs of two unfortunate orcs. The other
three instigators looked around in shock and surprise. They ignored the orc
they had been beating on as they drew their swords, scanning the woods in fear.
Smiling, Talric nocked the red arrow and pointed it into the tree line above him.
When released, the arrow let out a horrifying scream as it traveled, echoing
through the forest. The orcs, having already lost their nerve, fled screaming
in the opposite direction, dropping their swords as they stumbled over each
other in an effort to get as far away from whatever rampaging ghost in the
woods they had awakened. Talric watched as they left and, satisfied that they
hadn't stopped, nodded in approval as he headed back towards the spot where he
had left Veronica.
The sole orc, still tied to the
tree, was trying his best to gnaw through the rope that held him. He also
thought the forest was haunted and wanted to escape as soon as he could. A
noise caught his attention as he looked towards a horse and rider that had
suddenly materialized from the wood. Blinded by fear and the blood running into
his eyes, he gnawed frantically. The horse and rider stopped a few feet before
him.
“D-Don't ...hurt me. P-Please.”
The orc pleaded.
Talric backed the horse up a
step in shock. The orc spoke common in a voice that almost seemed child-like,
not guttural like a common orc. It was no wonder he had assumed a woman or
child had been captured. Banishing his surprise he spoke calmly.
“I didn't just save your life
only to kill you myself. That may be your way, but it's not mine.”
The orc looked away for a
moment, seeming to be in thought. He glanced back up at Talric.
“You...Ghost?”
Talric peered at the orc
curiously. He checked the two he had downed earlier with the arrows. He had no
doubts they were dead. The black-shafted arrows he carried were tipped in
poison of the most deadly kind. Talric answered although he was slightly
surprised he was carrying on a conversation with an orc.
“Only when it suits me. You
should be worried more about vengeance-filled orc hunting parties than you
should with ghosts. After what you beasts did to that caravan a few days ago, I
should run you through myself.”
The orc began darting his head
back and forth, its eyes wide with fright. Talric drew his sword and pointed
the blade in the orc's direction.
“I won't hurt you as long as
you don't make any sudden moves. Attack me and I will kill you without a second
thought.” He told the orc, keeping his anger in check. “Now sit down and hold
out your arms so I can cut those binds.”
The orc obediently sat down,
still quivering in fear. He looked up at the elf pleadingly, as if to tell
Talric he would not harm him. He lifted his arms, wincing as his left shoulder
dropped. It was obvious his arm was broken.
“Why did the other orcs tie you
like this?” He asked as he cut the ropes with his blade. “Did you do something
to displease your chief or something?”
The orc blinked back a tear. A
tear! Talric had never seen an orc cry. What in the name of the gods was going
on here?
“I...I told great orc chief I
w-won't hurt help...helpless humans.” The orc told him. “They do nothing
to...to me. Why should I h-hurt them?”
Talric looked into the orc's
eyes, trying to determine if it was telling the truth. It was then that he
noticed this orc had blue eyes, not red like most orcs. Something's not right,
Talric told himself. This is way too strange.
Finally cutting through the
ropes around the orc's wrists, he swiftly cut the noose from around its neck.
The humanoid rubbed its wrists briefly before extending its right hand to
Talric. Startled, the elf brought his sword up predicting a strike. The strike
never came.
The orc, startled at the elf's
suspicions, slowly dropped its hand and lowered its head. It wiped the blood
from its eyes as it spoke softly.
“You help me.” The orc said. “I
thought I have new friend. I guess wrong.” He slowly turned away from Talric
and started limping away.
“Wait.” Talric said. “Why
didn't you attack those helpless people? You said you couldn't hurt them.
That's uncommon for an orc.”
The orc turned back to the elf
and seemed to smile at him. “My name Grull. I born that way. Chief say I weak
and a coward, but I just different. I look at pretty flowers when others fight.
They make fun of me. I lonely and only want to make friend with people, but
everyone scared of me. I had one friend in the town, long time back. I only
hoping you was different.”
Talric wanted to find out more
about this unusual orc, but a horn blaring in the distance kept him from doing
so. Grull looked up at Talric, horror showing in his eyes. Talric knew all too
well what that horn was: an orc patrol. Mounting his horse, he was startled
when Grull came up beside him, tugging on his boot.
“Don't let them get me. They
try to kill me now. Help me escape. I help you find short way through woods.”
The orc started hobbling off;
turning as he reached the edge of the clearing to wave Talric in the direction
he was going. Talric didn't have time to think. He held Veronica tightly as he
urged his horse forward. The horns brayed again, this time much closer. Talric
didn't need the horns to tell the orcs were nearing quickly, their harsh,
guttural voices echoing through the woods as the elf rode. He caught sight of
Grull and galloped towards him.
“Where are you leading me, orc?
This isn't some kind of trap is it?” Talric asked suspiciously.
Grull looked up at him, his
blue eyes shining brightly as the sun shone through the trees. “No trap. I just
want to help you. You help me. Giving you a favor.”
“I think you mean ‘doing you a
favor’.”
The orc smiled, his toothy grin
seeming fitting for any orc, if they ever smiled. “Thanks. I not very good with
human language. I better at dwarf.”
They reached what looked to be
a deep groove in the landscape. Two large, grass covered mounds rose in
opposite directions, looking as if someone had taken one big mound and carved
it with a gigantic ax. Two great pine trees sat in the middle of the strange
looking gully, spaced evenly apart. Grull led Talric through those two big
trees into the narrow canyon beyond. The hills rose ominously on both sides,
blocking out most of the outlying sunlight, making it dim to near darkness in
the center of the crevice. Talric dismounted and lay Veronica in a darker part
of the gully, placing her gently on the soft ground. He walked to his horse and
spoke with it nearly telepathically.
“We must part for now, old
friend.” He told the horse. “Our paths will cross again.”
With that, he slapped the beast
on the rump, sending it galloping quickly out the other side of the gully. The
horns sang again, seeming to be almost on them now. Talric looked over at
Grull, standing obediently by his side. The orc was tensing, his eyes burning
with hatred as he peered towards the front of the gully, looking for any
movement. Talric never noticed that the orc's arm no longer appeared to be
broken.
“Will you fight them?” Talric
asked the orc.
Grull looked up at him, his
eyes relaxing a little, but still burning with the fires of vengeance.
“I don't want to, but I will if
they make me.” The orc said, his voice quivering slightly.
Without hesitation, Talric
reached into his pack bag and pulled out his old main-gauche. The weapon had
been the first weapon the elf had used before switching to a long sword.
Primarily a defensive weapon, the main-gauche looked like on over sized dagger
with a basket hilt, covered in metal quills. The quills were very sharp, making
it a deadly weapon when punching someone. Talric had used this weapon for most
of his life for self-defense. He looked at it fondly for a moment before
handing it to Grull.
“Use this if you need to. You
wanted to do me a favor, protect her from harm.” He said, pointing towards
Veronica.
Grull looked over at her and
started limping in her direction. “I help pretty lady. Protect her for you.”
Talric watched him crouch by
her, fumbling curiously with the strange weapon. It didn't take the orc long to
figure out how to use it. He placed his stubby fingers into the basket hilt,
grasping the handle. Grull smiled in triumph as he adjusted his grip on the
main-gauche. They both jumped to alertness as a particularly close orc screamed
gutturally, obviously having seen the two the elf had killed in the clearing.
Long moments passed, Talric and
Grull straining as they listened for a noise to give away the orc's positions.
Suddenly, three orcs walked through the trees at the front of the gully, one
orc screaming gutturally in its own language as it pointed towards Talric.
Good, Talric thought. They don't see Veronica and the orc. Hopefully I can get rid
of these three before they call any of the others.
Two of the orcs stepped into a
fighting stance thirty feet from Talric, the third running back through the
trees going for help. With a feral growl Talric drew his gleaming longsword and
launched himself towards the two. Both orcs scrambled backwards a step,
surprised from the viciousness of the elf's attack. They swung wildly, Talric
finding it difficult to parry such an onslaught. The elf kicked one orc in the
stomach as hard as he could, staggering the beast backwards as it doubled over
in pain. He turned his attention towards the other orc and swept his sword in
an arc at throat level, missing his mark. He received a slash on the arm for
that error. Clutching his wound with one hand, he parried the beast's onslaught
with the other. A final parry opened the orc's defenses and Talric took no time
in taking his advantage. He sliced upwards, catching the beast at the cleft of
its chin. The humanoid dropped his weapon and clutched his mouth, a silent cry
reaching his lips, as it fell facedown into the leaves. The first orc took
Talric by surprise. It had recovered quickly from Talric's vicious kick,
charging the elf with murder in its eyes. Talric avoided its sword easily, but
avoiding the orc was a different matter all together. The beast slammed into
Talric hard, causing him to lose his balance. Talric's sword fell from his hand
as his head slapped the ground, dizzying him. He rolled over on his stomach,
trying to throw the orc off of him. The beast stood and began kicking him
viciously in the ribs and his injured arm tucked to his side, as if in revenge
for the blow it had received earlier. Dizzy from the fall and the brutal
beating, Talric reached into his belt sheath, grasping the hilt of his dagger.
With surprising speed he thrust the blade upwards, stabbing the orc in the
stomach. Blood flowed freely from the wound, the beast going limp as it passed
out from the pain. The orc toppled onto Talric, pinning him to the ground.
Moving slowly from the discomfort in his side, Talric pushed the orc off of
himself, the ache from his bruised ribs making him whimper in pain. He hoped
none were broken. That's the last thing he needed now. He licked his lips as he
tried to get into a sitting position, the pain screaming for him to sit still
and rest. He glanced around, seeing Grull hovering over Veronica with the
main-gauche in his hand. His eyes widened in shock when Grull laid his hands
over Veronica’s throat. Thinking only of Veronica’s safety, he rolled over and
into a standing position, running towards the orc as fast as he could. The
orc's eyes widened as he watched Talric bearing down on him. Talric fell on
Grull more than he pushed, but it accomplished the same goal he was after. He
had to get the orc away from Veronica. He looked into the orc's eyes in
confusion, wondering if he had really seen what he thought he had. For an
instant, Grull's hands seemed to glow. Something funny was going on here and,
until he had some answers, it was going to be very hard to trust this one. Orcs
and elves are enemies, Talric thought. Now I find a compassionate one that only
wants to 'be friends'?
“What did you just do to her?”
The elf asked, pinning the orcs arms to the ground, the pressure he applied nearly
making him black out. “If you hurt her I swear-”
The orc was shaking his head
vigorously in fear as he interrupted Talric. “I not hurt pretty lady. I only
want to help her. She hurt bad.”
Talric heard a rustling behind
him. As determined as he was not to be beaten by these beasts, his heart raced
as he spun around into a defensive crouch. His jaw dropped in shock as he
stared at the form of Veronica, slowly rising to a sitting position. She was
holding her head in pain, her face creased as she winced.
“W-What happened?” she
stammered groggily.
Talric gaped at her,
speechless. His brain took a few moments to register that she had asked a
question before he was able to answer.
“V-Veronica?” He stated, his
voice still quivering. Still wide-eyed in shock he turned quickly to look at
Grull. This was impossible! Did this orc just heal Veronica? McGowan wasn't
even able to do that!
“What are
you?”
