Talric looked to Grull, then
back to Bellar and his companions, his eyes burning with rage for this
betrayal. The man had given his word that the orc's identity would be kept
secret. Now here he stood, a priest and three guards on his heels. The whole scene
seemed ludicrous to the elf. Why did every human find it necessary to hate
someone simply because of his race? Certainly Grull was an exception to his
people; Orcs were a bloodthirsty lot. But did he not save this man's daughter
from certain death?
“We are in a hurry, Bellar.
What is it that your priest wants that is so important?” Talric seethed.
The burly trader raised his
arms defensively. “Don't worry, good elf. It's not what you think at all.
Bishop Renard was merely curious as to the origins of your orc friend's
powers.”
Eileia and Veronica appeared
from the side of the stables. The looks on their faces confirmed their shock at
the sight of these soldiers. The barmaid's face twisted suddenly into rage when
she spotted Bellar.
“Why are you here, Bellar?” She
fumed. “What is it you want with my friends?”
Talric put up his hand to calm
her, assuring her everything was under control. She stepped over to where
Veronica was mounting her horse, stroking the mare, named Saber, to calm her
nerves.
Talric looked over to Grull,
then back to Bellar and his friends. The orc's body was shivering from fear as
he eyed the weapons the soldiers carried.
“Speak up.” Talric uttered, a
little calmer than before. “What do you need, priest?”
Bishop Renard stared at Talric
briefly. The priest stood nearly a hand taller than the elf, but his frame was
thinner, his salt-and-pepper hair cut in a horseshoe shape from temple to
temple. Talric was amazed at the strength behind his brown eyes, the intensity
of his faith displayed on his lean face “Like Bellar said, I'm curious as to
where the orc acquired his healing magic.”
Grull looked up suddenly. “Not
magic.” He growled. “I just ask gods for help, and they help me. Especially
Loren. She is the nicest.”
The bishop was stunned at the
mention of the goddess' name, the same goddess he worshipped!
“What would you know of Loren?”
Renard asked.
Grull bowed his head to further
cast his face in shadow. “She is the goddess of light and healing. She says I’m
special and that I’m going to do something someday that will make a difference
in the lives of those I hold dear.”
“Would you wish to learn more
about the nice goddess and your power?” He asked. “I can help you to learn
more.”
Grull turned and look at
Talric, then back to the priest.
“I would, but I have important
thing to do. I have to help Talric find his friends.”
Talric nodded, looking to the
priest as well. “We do need his help. Cyrus and the others may be in great
danger.”
One of the guards stepped
forward after hearing this, his eyes wide in worry. “If Cyrus is in trouble,
then I will travel with you as well.” He stated bluntly.
Veronica looked at the guard
suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“My name is Rialin. Cyrus left
me in charge of the guard until his return. I don't wish to disobey his order,
but his safety comes first as far as I'm concerned.”
Veronica looked at him,
puzzled. “I don't understand. Cyrus has no control over --.”
“My uncle’s estate went to
Cyrus. He left him the elite guard as his own to continue the search for Drac
Ton’Kele, the reborn chieftain of the Shadow Dragon Clan.” She paused and shook
her head. “It’s a long story.”
Veronica seemed about to ask
another question, but decided against it. She’d have plenty of time to find out
about it when they got to Cyrus and the others.
“Myself, Victor, and Agamar
will accompany you to your destination.” He gestured to the other two guards
behind him. Victor was a broad, well-built man of middle age. He was completely
bald, but a blonde beard gave away the color of the hair that once covered his
pate. Shining golden hoops dangled from both ears swaying as he moved his head
in a slight nod. Agamar had tresses of darkest ebony, tied into many complex
braids that trailed to his shoulders. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee that
reminded Talric of Cyrus. Many designs and tattoos covered his arms, the most
significant being a band of intricate symbols wrapping around his left biceps.
“I will leave my highest
ranking officer to watch the town while we are away. He should be able handle
things until we return.” Rialin stated bluntly.
Veronica, still perplexed,
tried desperately to get an answer, but the elf gave her a nod telling her,
without a sound, that he would explain later.
Talric thought to himself briefly
before coming to a conclusion. “If we allow your company, it should be noted
that I am to lead you. I have been Cyrus' advisor for many years, and it seems
only logical that I should direct you now.”
“I will not allow an elf to--”
Rialin started. The soldier shot the elf an icy glare, chilling his bones. He
seemed to stumble upon the words as he answered. “Very well. It will be as you
wish.”
Satisfied, Talric nodded his
head in approval. “Then prepare yourselves. We leave as soon as you return.”
The three soldiers turned
towards the barracks, lying beyond the elf's vision. Rialin seemed to be
seething from anger at Talric's words, but no matter. If they were to go with
him, they would do as he said, or they could return to Metier and stay there
for all he cared.
“So what will you do, Grull?”
Bishop Renard asked again. Talric had almost forgot the priest was there.
Grull seemed to think the
matter over concisely. “I will...think it over. If I do decide to do as you
want, it will be after I come back.”
Satisfied, the prelate nodded.
“Very well. I will await your return. My temple lies to the north, at the edge
of Metier. I hope to see you then.” As if remembering something, the bishop
reached into his pocket and retrieved a ring. “I had a vision given to me by
the goddess two nights ago. It was said I would meet someone with extraordinary
powers and I was to give him a ring. When I awoke, I was grasping this ring in
my hand.”
Renard gingerly handed the ring
to Grull. The orc looked it over briefly and was taken aback by its beauty.
Made of pure silver, a strange, flowing text was etched around the outside of
it. He slipped the ring onto his finger, noting that it fit him perfectly.
“Thank you. I don’t know what
to say.”
“When I was told of what you
had done, I knew the ring was to go to you. Just return here when you have
finished your quest and I will tell you all you need to know about our
goddess.”
Bishop Renard left then,
followed closely by Bellar. Eileia walked over to stand beside Talric’s horse,
smiling at him.
“I guess you have everything
under control.” She chuckled. “Why don't you all dismount and come back into
the tavern while you wait for Rialin and his friends to return. I'll get you
all some drinks, on me.” Talric and Veronica dismounted, Grull a little
hesitant at being in such a public place. Eileia curbed his fear once they
reached the tavern however, seating the trio in a dark corner beyond the prying
eyes of other customers. The orc ordered tea to the surprise of his new
friends, while Talric and Veronica ordered ale. It was well known that orcs
loved liquor, but Grull told them simply that he didn't care for it. Smiling,
Talric slipped his arm around Veronica, drawing her closer to the comforts of
his embrace.
It was nearly an hour later when
Rialin and his guards returned. Rialin's face was deep red in uncontrollable
rage, still fuming over having to follow the orders of the elf. Eileia hugged
the three friends and saw them off. The party headed out the south entrance,
following the same trail Cyrus and the others had taken days before. Talric
glanced over his band and smiled to himself. What a motley bunch we are, he
thought. A human mage, an orcish healer, an elven ranger, and three seething
soldiers. If anything, the group was at least well rounded. The elf's thoughts
drifted to his companions, somewhere beyond Ogre Pass. He hoped they were safe
from harm and prayed he would reach them in time.
The companions rode south
through the plains, the landscaped dotted here and there by clusters of trees.
The warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze made this a perfect day for riding.
The sharp smell of pine brushed their nostrils, inviting them to laze under the
comfortable shade of their numbers. They rode their horses at a somewhat
leisurely pace so they wouldn't tire so easily, knowing of a small river
halfway to Dragon's Keep where they could rest and water them. Balifore, riding
in the middle of the group, trotted to Cyrus. He had thrown back his hood
letting his hair catch the slight breeze.
“So tell me more about this
battle you had with the dragon. I hate to bring up bad memories, but I'm
curious as to what happened there.” He smiled to Cyrus.
Cyrus grinned back. “Nothing to
tell really. We assumed Malkar had hidden himself there and had gone in to
search the place. When we reached the top, we found a lot more than we
bargained for. I could barely move at first. Veronica was having little success
with her magic, but McGowan and Darius had taken positions on either side. They
would alternate striking and dodging, confusing the beast. When my berserk rage
finally kicked in, I joined the battle. Darius brought his great hammer down
across the back of the dragon's head. As the dragon was scrambling for his gem,
I worked my way towards where it had fallen, hoping to hold it as a ransom for
our safe passage. When the dragon saw me running towards his prize, he attacked
me. Desperate and now mortally wounded, he melted the gold around the gem.
After that, he never had a chance. One well placed blow by Darius broke the
dragon’s neck.”
The Talisman peered back at the
others. Satisfied they were far enough away, he spoke in a low voice to Cyrus.
“What did this lair look like?”
Balifore asked.
“Just a big square room. A huge
hole was ripped from the roof, probably how he got into the place. The walls,
ceiling and floor were covered in this strange writing. This dragon was pretty
out of it, if you know what I mean. I couldn’t read the writing and neither
could the others, but we think he may have been keeping it as a sort of journal
or something.”
The Talisman leaned towards the
warrior slightly. “Before I met you, I had that run in with Blaspherion. I
don’t think you’ve heard of the story behind the monster. How a novice mage who
believed he was powerful enough to hold back a demon had created it. After it
brought the walls of the room down around the boy’s head and left him for dead,
it wreaked havoc on my home village of Salabon. It maimed and murdered nearly
thirty people before my father sacrificed himself to banish the demon from the
city.”
Cyrus eyed his friend
curiously. “You never mentioned that before. I have always wondered what
happened to your family. I never even knew the name of the place where you grew
up. I do remember you saying you hunted it down and cornered it in Tiermane.
What happened to the demon after you banished it from there?”
Balifore lowered his head. “I
don't know. From then to the time I began traveling with you, I never saw it.
It wasn’t until Thordex spoke the name of the dragon that I finally knew where
Blaspherion had gone. With my improved power I should have no trouble
destroying this demon lord summoned by rune magic.”
The warrior looked at his
friend in concern. “You seem troubled about it. Why is that?”
Balifore paused, staring at the
ground. “Because I was the one who conjured the demon. My ego caused a string
of events that ruined my life. My father died to banish my mistake. I was
exiled from the village, stoned actually, because I conjured something I should
have known I may have no control over.”
“I didn’t know that about you.
Why tell me now?”
“Because, if I die, I’ll want
you to burn my body and cover that cursed Eye of Immortality with my ashes. If the
Eye is as powerful as legend says, it is the only sure way I know of keeping it
away from him. I know he doesn’t possess it yet. If he did, we would all be
dead by now. If he ever inherits the power of the stone, He can come fully into
our world. From here, he can open gates to other dimensions himself. A second
Clan War would begin, but not for the survival of one single race. This war
would be all races fighting for survival on an invaded planet.”
The scope of what Balifore
spoke of frightened Cyrus. Creatures from other dimensions, swarming like
locust from one town to the next, killed everything in sight. A sudden thought
occurred to him.
“Why doesn't Blaspherion simply
walk into the lair and take the eye? If he knows where the dragon is, he could
simply walk in and take it now.”
“Rune Magic, a demon’s bane.
Runes that prohibit him from simply walking in now protect the place. You did
say the walls were covered in some kind of writing. It would have been the
logical thing for the dragon to do if he really meant to protect the eye.” He
turned his head slightly to look at the others out of the corner of his eye.
“If I remember my lore correctly, the stone may be one of the lost Abysmal
Gateway stones. Although most were destroyed, a beast similar to Blaspherion
created the stones. Its main purpose was to allow a greater demon access to
limitless power, but there was also a powerful enchantment cast on each to
appease the greedy on our own plane, keeping the gem from being destroyed. If
either Malkar or Blaspherion possesses it, either way we are all doomed.”
Cyrus glanced back at the
others, who were enjoying the scenery. He turned back to Balifore and smiled
lazily. “Don't worry, Balifore. I don't think the others will make a fuss over
any of that, but I won't mention anything you've told me. This will just be
between you and me.”
Balifore turned to his friend
and grinned. “I thank you. My secret has eaten away at me since I met you. I am
glad to have been able to finally put it to rest.”
Thordex pulled his horse beside
Cyrus' then. “We should be at the river by nightfall. That seems as good a
place as any to set up camp.”
Cyrus looked at the halfling,
brushing his hair from his eye. “That sounds good. I don't want to push the
horses too hard.”
“I’ll tell the others then.” He
shot a quick glance to Balifore, pulling his horse in to wait for the others.
We'll get there before Malkar does, Cyrus thought to himself. When this is
over, he will wish he had never heard the name of Cyrus Redblade.
Zolaar rode in silence. He had
thought the whole plan through, and soon would be the time to act. He had never
been to this place called Dragon’s Keep, but he had heard many tales regarding
it. He remembered hearing about the ruling barbarian clan of the time and their
final battle at the top of the keep with the Psions. He was thankful he didn’t
live in such a chaotic time.
“Sir? Did you hear me, sir?”
Zolaar tore himself away from
his thoughts. He looked up to see that his only friend, Joram Renfield, staring
at him in concern. “I'm sorry, Joram. My thoughts wandered. Did you ask me
something?”
“Yes. I asked if we should hold
our position here or if we should go a little further north into the woods?”
Zolaar looked around, confused.
They had traveled the entire distance through the hills to a quiet river near
the edge of The Lake of Pearls without him even remembering it. Had he been
that deep in thought? He looked out towards Dragon's Keep. Sitting in the
middle of a large lake, the fortress appeared to float in the brightness of the
sparkling water. Long ago, the castle of Dragon's Keep was a grand fortress.
Built on a small island in the center of The Lake of Pearls, the castle, along
with the city nearby, was once home to a prosperous people. The only way to or
from the castle was by ferry or boat, making it almost impossible for any large
masses of armed soldiers to surprise the inhabitants of the keep. Legend has it
that the clan that dwelled in the keep could transform into mighty dragons to
protect the keep and the city. Thus, the name Dragon’s Keep. Legend also told
of the strange creatures of the nearby Silent Woods that watched over the area,
protecting the keep and the city from looters. Fairy tales, Zolaar thought.
“My apologies. I must have let
my mind wander for too long. I didn't even think we had arrived yet.”
Joram glanced at him, puzzled.
“But, sir, you had told us to veer west to meet the river at its mouth. Don't
you remember?”
Zolaar concentrated. He had no
recollection of saying anything to anyone.
“No. I mean, yes. We should go further north into the
woods. There we will wait by the road for those adventurers to pass us by.
Inform the men that we will rest once we've reached our destination.”
“Yes, sir.” Joram turned his nearly invisible mount and
headed back towards the others. It was getting dark and Zolaar felt they should
reach the old ferry docks before nightfall. His arm began to burn again, as it
always did, and Zolaar clenched his teeth to terminate the pain. He had tried
his own healing powers and visited other priests as well, but no matter what he
tried, nothing could heal the burns on his arm. He carefully pulled back the
sleeve of his robe and cautiously removed his bandages. To his shock, the wound
looked worse. The skin still seemed to bubble, puss dripping down his forearm
to splash on the ground. The wound glistened in the faint light of the setting
sun, the skin torn away in some areas to show the charred muscle beneath. His
instincts told him something was terribly wrong with this entire situation.
Replacing the wet and bloody bandages with a fresh roll of gauze, he pulled his
sleeve back down and, his men following close behind, led the way to the old
docks.
