by Dan Zangari
Krindal pulled a necklace from his neck, setting it beside the silvery disk. “I started examining the altar and touched it in several places. Light shone from the altar, and then this materialized.” He pointed to a white gemstone within the necklace. It was seven-sided, though the necromancers wouldn’t be able to see that while it was in its setting. Krindal had placed the gemstone within the necklace so as to not lose it
“You won’t believe what happened next,” Krindal said, grinning widely. “We heard a hum in the room, coming from this disk. It shot through the door, zipping into the circular chamber. A beam of light then burst from this gemstone, through me and toward the disk. My hirelings thought I had died from some deadly beam of magic,” Krindal said with a laugh. “But that wasn’t the case.”
He eyed each of the council members. Each was intrigued. Astonishing!
“Then this happened.” Krindal removed the seven-sided gem from the necklace and placed it atop the silvery disk.
The gem rose from the disk, hovering in the air, and then a white light beamed from the disk to the gem. The light erupted, filling the council chamber with a blinding flash. The guards gasped in surprise and ran toward the table; their footfalls the only sign of their hasty attempt to rescue their employers.
The guards gripped Krindal’s arms, pulling him from his seat. They stopped, however, as the light faded.
The guards gasped, along with the others in the room.
A map of the world hovered above the table, created by magic emitted from the silvery disk and projected through the gem. The disk was a tevisral, an ancient one. This mapping tevisral—as Krindal had come to call it—created a topographical representation of Kalda. All of Kalda. The map, however, was not a globe but lay flat.
The guard’s grips relaxed and Krindal leaned forward, hands on the table.
“That’s an illusion!” Velkor gasped.
“How complex!” Kallan exclaimed. Krindal would have thought him the most skeptical of the group but he was just as intrigued as the others.
“At first I thought this just a complex map, a wonder left over from the Lost World. But I was wrong. We camped there in the temple for nearly a week. We copied every inscription, drew an accurate floor plan, and searched for hidden rooms. We didn’t discover any hidden rooms or secret messages, but kept finding various references to the number nineteen all over the temple. It was on the doors, across the walls, and covering the altar. So I wondered, what was the significances of nineteen? I didn’t understand that until I studied this map.” Krindal pointed to a mountain range on the large western continent. It was in the region between Comdolith and Maltin.
A glint of golden light shone in the mountains. Krindal waited until all of them were looking at it. Then he inserted his fingers into the particles comprising the mountains and spread his fingers.
The gesture magnified the map, zooming into a finely refined topographic view. One of the peaks glowed with golden light while the symbol for nineteen hovered above it.
“This temple was number nineteen,” Alacor observed with a gasp.
“Exactly,” Krindal said then pinched his fingers. The map returned to its original appearance. “Notice any more of those lights?”
Each of the necromancers leaned in, eagerly studying the map.
“Yes!” Jalel laughed. “There’s more of them!”
“Twenty?” Melnor asked.
“Twenty-one,” Krindal said, sliding a finger across the map and adjusting it so the large island of Klindala was centered above the mapping tevisral. “It’s the last one. That one in Klindala didn’t appear on the map until I visited all the other temples.”
“And you want help to locate this last temple?” Alacor asked. The grandmaster’s question wasn’t too far from the truth.
“I can find it all right with this.” Krindal gestured to the silvery tevisral. “My initial group of hirelings were either lost or died while helping me find all twenty of these temples. And I dare not continue this alone.”
Of course, Krindal was not alone. Prince Kaescis was with him. But where was Kaescis?
“I’ve used all my coin to fund these excursions,” Krindal continued. “At this moment, I am completely destitute.” That was the truth. Krindal had spent everything, sold everything he had to come this far. But progress couldn’t be made without sacrifices.
“I’ve had to rely on—”
A knock at the council room doors interrupted Krindal.
Perhaps I didn’t need you after all, Your Imperial Highness, Krindal thought, glancing over his shoulder.
One of the guards opened the doors, revealing Prince Kaescis with several Crimson Praetorians acting as escorts. The Praetorians’ blood-red armor glistened from lightstones in the hall. Kaescis whispered to the guard, who then crossed the room to the council. Krindal waited to explain further. He had to play this right, now that the prince had arrived.
“His Imperial Highness, Prince Kaescis Midivar, wishes to join this meeting,” the guard said to the council.
“Let him enter!” Alacor gestured toward the door. Kaescis strode toward the council table, leaving his Praetorians in the hall. His gait was regal, bold, and purposeful.
“Master Krindal,” Prince Kaescis said, “I apologize for my tardiness. We had trouble finding a permanent wharf.” The prince stepped up beside Krindal’s seat and clasped his hands behind his back.
“No need for apologies, Your Imperial Highness,” Krindal said, bowing his head. “I was just explaining our request.”
“Our?” Jalel demanded, cocking his head. He glanced to Alacor, confused, but Alacor made no reply to his younger brother.
“We have been seeking the same thing, Master Krindal and I,” Prince Kaescis said. “Our paths crossed three months ago. It was a wonder we found each other at all.”
“It was quite fortuitous,” Krindal interjected. “His Grace has kindly taken me in, but I hardly think it his responsibility to champion my cause. Hence the reason I’ve come to this council. I am a necromancer of the Order after all. I would ask for supplies, able-bodied mages, and any others that can be spared to help me complete my quest.”
Krindal eyed the necromancers, each considering his request.
Prince Kaescis cleared his throat. “Might I add, the Mindolarn Empire will act as a supplementary force. This is Master Krindal’s discovery, and he should be credited with it.”
“And why is your empire involved?” Iltar spoke up, raising an eyebrow at the prince.
Iltar hadn’t said anything throughout Krindal’s entire presentation. Krindal thought that was strange. Of all of the council members, Iltar should have been the most interested. Iltar was, by far, the most scholarly of the seven, and the most adventurous. Iltar had an explorer’s reputation that was well known in Soroth.
“We want to see this truth come to light,” Prince Kaescis said, calmly. “It can change the world for the better. Kalda needs it.”
Iltar simply nodded and turned away. Did he not believe the prince?
“Any discoveries would be Sorothian claim,” Prince Kaescis added. “And if any discovery would prove beneficial to the empire, then that’s something for our governments to work through. Mindolarn and Soroth are allies after all.”
“You are a benevolent prince,” Alacor nodded. “We appreciate your respect and the aid you’ve given to Master Krindal.”
Krindal watched the room, waiting.
Finally, Alacor spoke. “We will deliberate for a moment. If you two would excuse us?” The grandmaster gestured to the doors.
“As you wish.” Prince Kaescis bowed and then strode from the council chamber.
“I thank you for your time,” Krindal said, placing the seven-sided gemstone back in the necklace. The gem’s separation from the mapping tevisral caused the magic to dissipate.
Krindal slipped the silvery disk back into his pack. He followed Kaescis outside and the guards closed the doors. Only Krindal and the Mindolarnians
were in the hall.
“They were awestruck,” Krindal whispered cheerily to the prince.
“I told you that you didn’t need me.” Prince Kaescis chuckled.
“And I said nothing of what befell us on the last island,” Krindal whispered.
The prince nodded aloofly as if he were ignoring Krindal.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it, Krindal thought.
After a quarter of an hour, the guards opened the doors, letting Krindal and Prince Kaescis back inside the council chamber. Both stopped at the edge of the table, waiting to hear the council’s verdict.
“Master Krindal,” Alacor said, his tone pompous. “We have voted unanimously to grant you aid.”
Unanimous? Krindal wasn’t the old fool tonight!
Alacor continued, “We will pull a stipend from the Order’s treasury for you and those of the Order accompanying you. We expect a detailed report upon your return from Klindala. Any relics or tevisrals found by you or any mage under your charge will be considered property of the Soroth Necrotic Order. The discoverer will receive proper credit and a payment after a thorough appraisal. Do you accept these terms?”
Krindal glanced to Prince Kaescis, who nodded once.
“We do, grandmaster.”
“Very well,” Alacor said with a nod. “Brethren, those in agreement signify it.”
In unison, each of the seven council members extended their right hands over the table, acknowledging their approval for ratifying the agreement.
“It is decided,” Alacor said. “Master Krindal, you will be contacted tomorrow to finalize the details with the treasury and to receive your stipend.”
The council members all rose from their seats. Many of them filed out of the room without further acknowledging Krindal or Kaescis. Iltar, however, stepped up to Krindal.
“I know of someone else who can help you,” Iltar whispered, waiting for the other council members to leave before continuing. “I didn’t want to bring this up around them. It’d just cause contention.”
Krindal’s eyes widened with excitement. Was Iltar really volunteering them? Surely, the Lost World yearned to be discovered! How fortuitous!
“I’ll need more details from you, but I’m sure Cornar will commit.”
Iltar was volunteering them! By all that’s magical!
“Who is this Cornar?” Prince Kaescis asked.
Krindal grinned like a child seeing overflowing bags of candy. “Who is Cornar?” He laughed. “Why, one of the most notorious adventurers in all Soroth. A legend! He and Iltar built a band of explorers that are rivaled by no other! They’ve searched the world over for decades, amassing wealth and increasing their fame!”
The prince nodded, but didn’t speak. He exited the council chambers and joined his Praetorians.
“Have you eaten, Krindal?” Iltar asked.
“Just rations aboard the Breath,” he answered.
“Then let’s eat and discuss the details,” Iltar said, wrapping his arm around the older necromancer. His embrace was gentle, kind almost.
Iltar really should be grandmaster, Krindal thought.
“Let’s go to the Sea Vistonia,” Iltar continued. “It’ll be my treat.”
“I wandered the western side of the uncharted island for weeks. Towering mountains lined the entire eastern border, or at least that’s what I thought. I decided to scale the mountains and found a lush forest on the other side. The trees bore a variety of fruit, and all manner of wildlife abounded in the woodland. It was a pleasant place.”
- From Origins and Oaths of the Keepers, preface
Cornar skidded across the grass of his country estate and rose to his feet, eyeing Kalder. Kalder speedily approached with his claymore pulled to the side, tip pointed skyward.
Nice, Cornar thought, lunging forward. He swung his weapons but Kalder intercepted both the serrated dagger and the short-sword with the claymore.
They danced about, striking and parrying each other’s blows.
“You already started?!” Gregan shouted, agitated.
The red-haired warrior donned his helmet at the edge of the field, but turned back to Kalder just in time to dodge a sweeping swing by rolling sideways. He stole another glance at the plate-covered warrior; Gregan ran, gripping his fanisar horizontally, his dash showing his eagerness to join the sparring match.
Evading another blow, Cornar rebounded, coming close enough to swiftly strike Kalder’s belly with the sole of his boot. Kalder tumbled backward, rolling over his shoulder, but Gregan replaced him.
“You’re not too old for this!” Gregan shouted, swinging his fanisar at Cornar. Gregan’s words were true. Cornar wasn’t too old for this… But there was that promise to Karenna.
Cornar ducked beneath Gregan’s next attack, twirling his dagger so its smooth edge rested against his forearm. He slid forward, hitting Gregan’s armored belly with a forearm strike. But that didn’t jar the once–City Watchman. Gregan continued swinging his fanisar while Cornar dodged the blows, striking plate-armored forearms. Soon, Kalder joined the fray. Cornar gracefully evaded both warriors’ attacks.
Suddenly, white light zipped past Cornar’s head. The light struck Kalder, surging through his armor and spreading across his body. Kalder glowed faintly.
“Magic?!” Cornar blurted. He wanted to look over his shoulder but he didn’t dare.
A second later, Gregan was surrounded by a similar white aura.
Both warriors moved at speeds faster than normal. Enhancing magic did that sort of thing. Cornar struggled to defend himself, and something swept out his legs. Was that Gregan? Cornar hadn’t seen the kick. But they were moving fast, faster than normal.
The hard ground met Cornar’s back, and a sharp rock tried to pierce his chain mail. All the while, something slithered beneath him. That was no kick! The slithering thing was an ensnaring tentacle, wasn’t it?
Gregan swiftly lowered his fanisar, but Cornar deflected it away. The fanisar struck the ground near Cornar’s head, kicking up dirt that sprayed across his face. Through the dirt, Cornar saw Kalder slashing downward with his sword. The bladed end came crashing down toward his chest, tip near his neck. Cornar tried to block the claymore but was too slow.
Kalder abruptly stopped his blade just before it touched Cornar’s armor. The burly warrior had amazing control, and his ability to pull the slice was a perfect example of his skill—especially since Kalder was enhanced with magic. If one weren’t familiar with how one’s body worked while enhanced, pulling such a blow would be difficult. This was not the case for Kalder.
“Match over,” Gregan gloated. Cornar couldn’t see his face, but he knew Gregan was grinning widely beneath his helmet.
Slow deliberate clapping echoed across the hemmed pasture, drawing his and the others’ attention. Cornar craned his neck, looking around the fanisar still stuck in the dirt. A tall black-robed man stood near the half-fence, looking pleased with himself. He was obviously the source of the magics.
“I should have figured,” Cornar said, rolling over on his side with a grunt. He flipped to his feet, standing beside his two subordinates. “That’s cheating!” Cornar shouted, shaking his head. “Not fair, Iltar!”
“Oh, really?” Iltar said with a laugh, still clapping. “And when has battle ever been fair? You should know such things.”
Cornar laughed and hurried across the pasture, Kalder and Gregan in tow. They soon reached the newcomer.
Iltar leaned against the half-fence, hands resting against one of the posts. He had bags under his eyes, but he smiled with anticipating glee. Cornar knew that smile. It meant only one thing. An adventure… Blast!
“You’re here early,” Gregan observed.
“And you look tired,” Kalder said.
“I rode all night,” Iltar said with excitement. “There’s no time to waste.”
Cornar could feel both Kalder and Gregan’s eyes boring into the back of his head. They undoubtedly guessed at the purpose of Iltar’s
visit. Though Iltar often visited, he rarely did so this early in the morning. After all, the three of them hadn’t had breakfast, and the ride from Iltar’s home would have been a half day’s journey.
“We need to talk,” Iltar said, glancing to both Kalder and Gregan but settling his gaze upon Cornar. His expression asked, “Do they know that you’re retiring?”
“Do you want to sit?” Cornar asked, climbing the fence. On the other side, he and Iltar stood face-to-face. They were similar in height, tall men—though Iltar was of a more slender build. Iltar was only a year Cornar’s senior, but he looked a lot older, his hair gray, his face wrinkled.
“It doesn’t matter,” Iltar said, glancing again to the two younger warriors. “You decide. Pagus is escorting the horses to your stables. I told him to go see your wife after he finished. The boy is hungry. He kept complaining on the ride here.”
Gregan laughed and climbed over the fence, followed by Kalder.
“Then we can talk out here,” Cornar said, sheathing his weapons. “What’s got you so excited that you rode here all night? You’re obviously not here for Karenna’s cooking.”
“But she’s such a good cook,” Iltar retorted with a wink. “To answer your question, I’ve come on behalf of Krindal Heyardin—”
Gregan grunted. “That old fool? Uh, Master Iltar, his wild gosset chases aren’t something to be excited about.”
Iltar raised an eyebrow at Gregan but continued talking to Cornar. “Krindal’s stumbled across something big. This will probably be one of the greatest expeditions of our century.”