by R C Gray
“I always do,” she said, watching him walk towards the door. “Son,”
“Yes, mother?”
“Your father knows what you’re doing for him and the kingdom.”
Drasa smiled weakly and nodded, stepping through the door. “If only he did.”
Walking down the long corridor, Drasa hurried down the stairs, turning into a small antechamber that led into a large study. Running his hand along the wall, he felt a cool draft escaping between several of the bricks and leaned forward, pushing open the hidden doorway in the small room. Pushing the door closed behind him, he stood quietly in the darkness.
Feeling a tingle in the air, the hair on his arms stood on end as the torches leading down the stairwell sprang to life, sputtering bits of spark onto the stone stairs below them. As he descended the stairs, he could hear the faint sound of the torches being extinguished behind him, leaving the pathway up shrouded in darkness.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a dark-haired woman in a long, black surcoat and pants greeted him with a slight bow.
“My lord.”
Nodding his head in response, Drasa held out his hand towards the tunnel ahead of him that connected the castle to the lower level of the white tower. The passageway was long and dark with moisture dripping from the ceiling, landing in small puddles on the cobbled stone floor. The rounded walls were reasonably stable, with only several small cracks letting in bits of dirt that pushed its way through the holes. Above them, they could hear the rumbling of cartwheels rolling down the street and the muffled conversations of the crowds of people talking above them, unaware that the prince and the archmage were passing right under their feet.
Aside from a small number of mages or castle staff, knowledge of the tunnels was kept hidden from nearly everyone. If word of the underground tunnels were to reach the wrong ears, it could put the tower and the castle in danger; and in the coming times, it was a risk they couldn’t afford.
“So, what’s the urgent message?” Drasa said, following closely behind the woman.
“I’ve received word from the tower in Sonosa. It looks as if the brothers that were hired to keep the dwarf safe are all dead.”
Drasa stopped and waited for Vaeloryn to unlock the door leading into the lower chambers of the tower. “I can’t say I didn’t see something like this coming. Plans rarely work the way they should. What happened?”
“Not here. You never know who could be listening. Let’s speak in my chambers, and we can discuss the issue in more detail.”
Locking the door behind her, the pair climbed the stairs to the ground floor of the tower. Opening the door slightly, Vaeloryn peered out around the hidden door behind the bookcase before stepping out between long rows of books and scrolls in the back corner of the general library. Walking quickly through the main hall, she pulled open a thin, decorative gate that led into a small metal-framed box.
“After you, my lord,” she said.
Pursing his lips, Drasa looked from the opening to the numerous flights of stairs before stepping inside. “I don’t like this device. I don’t trust it.”
Smiling to herself, Vaeloryn stepped in and closed the gate. “It’s about trusting me. Or would you rather walk up all the stairs to my rooms at the top of the tower?”
Drasa held on to the front of the gate as the lift began to rise. “I’d rather not.”
“Good. It’s quite simple, really. The box is attached to a counterweight above us. By controlling the flow of magic, I can make the box, and us, slightly lighter. This lets the box be raised slowly to the floor we need. And it’s enchanted to lower itself slowly back to the first floor when we step out. It’s about using slight amounts of energy to allow something to work naturally, that’s all.”
“I would feel more comfortable if people hadn’t died in it.”
“People died,” Vaeloryn said as she opened the gate to her study, “because they didn’t possess the skills to make it work properly. It keeps them in check. If they can’t harness the slight amounts of magic to make something simple work, how they expect to do greater spells. And,” she smirked, “it makes them study harder, so they don’t have to keep walking up countless stairs.”
“How very diabolical,” Drasa said, sitting in a chair near the fireplace and glancing down at the stack of unburned logs. “Would you mind?”
“Fyrana,” Vaeloryn said, waving her hand towards the hearth as she sat across from Drasa. A sharp crackle sounded from the fireplace as a flash of blue flames engulfed the logs before softening to a glowing orange.
“So, tell me what happened.”
“I received word from a messenger in Sonosa. He said that the dwarf had escaped with a goblin, half-orc, and an elf. The brothers and their mercenary band were all killed. There are rumors that necromancy was used.”
“And what of the stone? Was it found before the dwarf escaped?”
Vaeloryn shook her head. “No. I don’t think the stone was ever there to begin with.”
“And you don’t think the necromancy had anything to do with the stone?”
“I don’t. I believe there was a mage there. Possibly aberrant, but strong for being untrained,” she said.
“And which way were they heading when they left Banrielle?”
“Our scout says they were on the road heading south. Unless they cross the mountains and manage to survive the Corsaro desert, they’ll be heading to Mivara.”
Drasa clenched his teeth as he gripped the arm of the chair. “So, not only did we lose that lying, thieving dwarf, but we’ve lost several good warriors! And now he’s traveling with a mage, and the gods only know who else. And to make it worse, we’re still no closer to finding the stone.”
“We’re still working on the others, but no one has told us anything useful. Any of the oracles or mystics we’ve spoken to so far have yet to have a vision of the stones.”
“And have you tried forcing them?”
“Yes. Any attempts, whether through pleasantries or torture, have yielded nothing substantial. It seems like the visions are either random or meant for a certain few.”
“And which do you think it is?”
“I believe it’s random. There are so many streams of magic and energy that one single person wouldn’t be able to see them all. It’s like a mirror reflecting an image too large for one person to see or comprehend, so it’s broken into smaller pieces. Or shattered visions, if you will. The vision is there, but scattered and broken like a puzzle.”
Drasa rose from his chair and stood in front of the fire, warming his hands. “We’ll get our answers one way or another. The stones are out there; we just have to find them. Or, more accurately, we have to find someone to lead us to them. I want you to instruct the mages to look for anyone with any signs of clairvoyant abilities. Have them sent to you and report your findings to me after you test them. We want to encourage their visions naturally before we move on to harsher methods. We can’t have word getting out about any experiments gone awry in our tower.”
“And what of the dwarf and his companions. It’s not too late to catch them.”
“I want you to take word back to the mage tower in Sonosa. Tell them to send a raven south to Mivara with the message to be on the lookout for any of the four. Let them know I want word of the bounty to fall on the right ears and that I’ll pay three gold for each, provided they’re alive. And if we find one, the others won’t be far away. When they’re captured, have them send word immediately to the Sun Spear docked in Braval. Tell them my ship can be there within a day for them.”
Vaeloryn nodded her head and walked over to a large table covered in scrolls and small bottles of colored liquids. Clearing a section to work, she unrolled a piece of leather and placed several small stones on its surface. Uncorking one of the bottles, she let several drops of dark green liquid fall onto each of the smooth rocks before placing them in a pouch at her waist.
“And what should I tell the temple about their lost brother
s? They’re going to want retribution?” she said, strapping a sword and dagger onto her belt.
“Assure the brothers that those responsible will be punished for all to see. I’ll make them wish they never interfered. But foul creatures do foul things; it’s in their nature.”
“Yes, my lord,” Vaeloryn said, stepping into an intricately painted runic circle in the center of the room. Taking the dagger from its sheath, she removed one of the stones from her pouch and placed it on the ground in front of her as she kneeled. Cutting a shallow line across her forearm, she let her blood drip down onto the stone and mix with the green tincture, causing a small puff of acrid smoke to rise from its surface as it bubbled and hissed.
“Ental ama duin falza zen,” she said, grabbing the stone off the floor.
The heat burned her palm as she held the stone out in front of her. The air around her hand bent and rippled like disturbed water before being sucked inwards like a whirlpool. Before her stood a swirling portal that opened into a vast field of dark stalks of weather-rotted wheat. The trees in the distance were bent and twisted against the fierce wind rushing over the hills. Lightning flashed, and she could feel the rumble of thunder reverberating in the air around her.
She had always hated going into the Somber Vale, and this time was no different. There were creatures here that could tear you apart physically, mentally, or both. Some were even creations of your own nightmares brought to life. And once she stepped through the gate and released her spell, the portal would vanish, and she would have to brave the dangerous middle-realm, relying only on the subtle traces of magic that flowed like spider-silk on the wind to guide her to the closest keystone. And although hours or days could pass for her, only minutes would pass before she stepped through the portal at Sonosa; assuming she could find a gate to perform the spell on to open a portal.
Rising to her feet, she sheathed her dagger and reached her hand into her pouch to make sure she had multiple stones. Unsure of what might be waiting on the other side of the portal, Vaeloryn pulled out a single stone and placed it in her tall boot for safekeeping. If she had to run or somehow lost her pouch, she wanted to make sure she had a way out, even if that meant having to make the long journey back to Sonosa on foot.
“Be careful in the Vale,” Drasa said, moving over to peer into the portal. “Take some time to rest after you arrive. Things should run smoothly here for a couple days without you. But come back to me as soon as you hear word of their capture. With the reward I’m offering, it shouldn’t take long for someone to find them.”
“And what about your father? Do you have everything you need for him while I’m away?”
Drasa shook his head. “The priests and healers have all been to see him already, and no one can figure out how to stop the sleeping death. And I doubt anything will happen while your away. But don’t worry, he’s out of the way, and I don’t plan on waking him up anytime soon. I have him where he needs to be.”
Placing her hand over her heart, Vaeloryn bowed and stepped into the portal. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, her voice distorted through the rippling vortex.
“I hope your journey through the Vale is fast,” Drasa said, stepping clear as the portal closed, leaving a slight buzzing in his ears.
Uncorking several of the bottles on the table to sniff at their contents, Drasa looked around the empty room, the air still tingling with energy. Feeling slightly uneasy, he reached inside a trunk near the wall and pulled out a long, tattered cloak, throwing it over his shoulders as he raised the hood and walked to the double wooden doors of Vaeloryn’s chambers. Stepping out into the hallway, he looked over the balcony and down row after row of stairs leading down the ground floor. “Should have had her take me down first,” he said, mumbling to himself as he started down the stairwell.
After descending to the bottom of the tower, Drasa leaned against an expertly crafted marble statue of Falinxa, letting the cold stone press briefly against his hot cheek before dabbing the sweat from his forehead and tying a thin piece of material over his face, obscuring his identity. Glancing around the room, he scampered towards the door, pulling his left leg behind him as if he had been injured.
Pulling the hood tighter around his head, he made his way down the city streets, avoiding contact with as many people as possible. There were plenty of cutpurses here, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with any of the scum that flooded into the city. Turning onto the wharf, he headed for a small pub at the edge of the docks.
Hobbling through the door, he made his way to the back and fell hard onto a chair, stretching his leg out straight in front of him as he rubbed his knee.
“What’ll it be?” a loud voice said, coming from across the room.
“Whatever’s strong and cheap,” Drasa said in a rough voice.
“Yeah, well, I ain’t on the menu,” the barmaid said, getting a laugh out of several of the people in the bar.
Drasa nodded his head and waved his hand, motioning for the whiskey on the back wall. “A double whiskey, then.”
The barmaid raised her eyebrows and poured a double whiskey, spilling more than a few drops as she carried it to the table. “You got coin for this? You’ll find no charity here.”
Drasa pulled out a few coppers and set them on the table. “I need something else too.”
“I already told you I ain’t on the menu,” she said, reaching out to take the coins.
“I’m not interested in that. If I wanted to feel dirty, I’d go roll around with pigs. No, there’s another few coppers in it for you if you go tell Rogden I’m here.”
“You want me to tell Rogden that you’re here? If you know anything about ‘im, you know he’ll break you in half if you waste his time.”
“You want the coppers or not?” Drasa said as he pulled out three coppers and held them in his hand.
“A’right, I’ll take ‘em.”
Drasa closed his hand. “After you tell him I’m here.”
“And who should I say is here, then?” the woman said, putting her hands on her hips.
“Tell him Leshok is here to see him.”
“Very well, Leshok,” the barmaid said, rolling her eyes. “You sit tight, he’s out back. But if you’re anyone he knows, he’ll be right in. And I hope for both our sakes that you are. I really don’t feel like cleanin’ up your blood today.”
Taking a sip of his whiskey, he watched the barmaid open the back door and head outside. Sticking his tongue out slightly, he looked down into his cup. The whiskey tasted like it had been mixed with saltwater. Or maybe the glass had been rinsed in the ocean. Pushing his drink to the side, he saw the back door swing open and the barmaid pointing to his table.
Ducking through the doorway was a muscular, shirtless man. His upper body was covered in tattoos, and a small gold ring hung from each nipple. Nodding to the man, Drasa kicked the empty seat across from out from the table and motioned for him to sit. As Rogden walked across the room, he reached behind his back and pulled out a darkly stained canvas bag and dropped it onto the table.
“You bring the coin?” Rogden said, leaning over the table.
“Don’t you be forgetting me, now,” the barmaid said, pushing in closer.
Drasa scowled under his face-wrap as he pulled out a small pouch. “Here’s your coins, as promised,” he said, handing the barmaid three coppers. “Now, off with you. I have business.”
Feigning a curtsy, the woman grabbed the coins out of his hand and walked back over the bar.
“How many are in there?” Drasa said, eyeing the blood-stained bag.
Rogden leaned closer to the table. “There are seven.”
“Seven? These are supposed to be pairs. What happened to the eighth?”
“The eighth managed to wiggle free before I could get it. And if I find it, it’ll be in the next batch.”
Pulling out seven silver coins and five coppers, he handed them to Rogden.
Shuffling through the coins, Ro
gden glowered down at Drasa. “Where’s the rest?”
“It got away. But if I find it, it’ll be in the next batch.”
Laughing to himself, Rogden slapped the table as he put the coins in his pouch and looked down at the cloaked man. “Fair enough. Give me a month, and I’ll get you some more.”
“I’ll be back when I see your ship come to port. And don’t be afraid to get me something local if you can. I’ll pay you for each pair, as per our arrangement.”
Picking up the bag, Drasa hobbled out the door and onto the street. Cutting down an alley, he stopped behind a building and opened the bag and looked inside. Several pairs of fangs and green, black, or red ears filled his bag—trophies from the vile creatures he believed were a plague on this world.
The Roads of Mivara
The days passed quickly as the wagon rattled south towards Mivara. The rolling hills and forest around them had begun to flatten and stretch out in large fields filled with tall green grass and bright red flowers. The dark grey rain clouds that had followed them for most of the journey had broken and given way to clear a clear blue sky. Becoming increasingly warmer the farther they traveled, they had shed their woolen clothing for lighter pants and tunics and had to occasionally wipe beads of sweat from their foreheads.
Rounding a bend in the road just over a small hill, Renna pulled the wagon to a stop as the Sanguine Gulf came into full view. The smell of the ocean was heavy in the wind, blowing the last remnants of the cold forest out her bones. In the distance, she could see large ships dotting the coastline and rows of blue and green buildings lining the intersecting streets leading to the docks.
On the east side of the city were several fisheries with lines of ships waiting to sell the day’s catch. A long string of buildings led off of the wharf and sailors walked the wooden dock between the rows of inns, shops, and pubs, shouting to one another as they went about their work. The center of the city stretched from the north entrance to the southern section and shoreline.