Dungeon Corp- Crypts of Phanos

by Jaxon Reed

  The wide-open receiving area was more than large enough to accommodate the entire train, and several servants ran out immediately to tend to the horses. Only, of course, there were no horses with Lady Lexa’s magical carriage.

  They were used to this too, though, and offered to park the vehicles for Pediford while others took the party’s luggage.

  In due course, a majordomo appeared and offered Pediford a proper greeting. Impressed, Pediford allowed the man to take over while he hurried to open the carriage door for Lady Lexa.

  The others crawled out of the covered wagon and took their first look around the royal stables. Everyone seemed impressed, except for Percel who had been here before as a child.

  In short order, the majordomo assigned them personal servants, with several reserved for Lady Lexa and one each for everyone else. No one remembered Choster, who remained in his sarcophagus in the back of the cargo wagon. Had he been awake, that would have suited him just as well.

  They split up inside, with Lexa and her coterie heading for one of the towers reserved for visiting nobility.

  The Dungeon Corps members, along with Pediford and Justen, found themselves in a hallway on the ground level reserved for visitors of less noted stature. The passageway stretched wide from side to side, its massive ceiling filled with magical chandeliers casting ample warm light.

  Each person was led to their own bedroom with attached private bath, the height of luxury. Pulling a rope near the door would immediately summon their personal servant.

  The beds themselves were large affairs, big enough to sleep four people with room to spare, piled high with down pillows and comforters atop soft cotton sheets.

  The bathrooms even had running water. For commoners, it seemed extraordinarily exuberant.

  Best of all, as far as Tawny was concerned, no one made mention of Toby’s size or the fact they were elves. The servants acted in a prompt and efficient manner. They tended to everyone’s needs and avoided harsh comments or looks.

  Once Lady Lexa had properly settled in her tower, the majordomo himself returned and visited each of their rooms to personally ensure they were comfortable.

  He also relayed a message concerning dinner. They would be eating in a private dining room and meeting with the queen herself shortly thereafter. If they needed any assistance in bathing or dressing, they should ring for their servants and it would be taken care of in a prompt manner.

  At that point, a man introducing himself as a magical tailor arrived, visiting each room. When he left, they each had a new and appropriate set of clothing for the evening that fit perfectly, all compliments of the queen.

  So with no small amount of anticipation they all stepped out into the hallway wearing their new clothes at 6:00 pm sharp, and followed the majordomo through labyrinthine hallways until they came to a modest private dining room with a large table and 12 chairs.

  They sat down and before long a line of servants brought in a variety of meat, including roast beef, horseflesh, wild boar, and game hens. Squash and asparagus, collard greens and turnips along with seven varieties of bread made from potatoes, wheat and rye, were all spread out on the table by a seemingly endless line of servants trooping from a nearby kitchen to their little room. Toby seemed to enjoy the repast more than anyone.

  About the time they were working on dessert, a rich and nutty yellow sheet cake, the door to the room opened and a royal servant cleared his throat.

  He said, “Announcing Her Majesty, Queen Elliah, and her party, Lord Roberton and Lady Lexa.”

  The queen walked into the room, taking them all in at once with a quick glance.

  Elliah stood straight and tall. She wore a brilliant golden dress with black accents billowing out from the waist in a hoop, hiding her legs and feet completely. Gemstones sparkled above her waist and along the long sleeves covering her arms.

  Her hair was braided into two tails knitted together in the back with golden threads and a bit of filigree. It looked like it took a very long time to prepare, and cost a considerable amount of money. All who saw it had no doubt that it was the nicest, most elaborate hairstyle throughout the entire land.

  The queen took everyone in at a glance, and seemed to . . . understand . . . each of them. Perhaps it was magic, perhaps it was a royal skill of some kind, but she took the measure of each and every one of them immediately.

  She lingered the longest on Toby. He stared back at her in awe. He stifled a belch, miraculously containing the noise and bringing it down to a whisper of air escaping his lips.

  Elliah blinked, then swept into the room heading for the front of the table. She was followed by a scribe, an older man, and Lady Lexa.

  No one seated quite knew what to do. Percel and Erik were half way out of their chairs. Everyone else tensed up. Toby put his finger in his mouth.

  Elliah made a dismissive gesture and said, “We’ll dispense with the formalities now. Court is not in session, and I wanted to meet you all.”

  She smiled then and just like that tension eased in the room. The men sat back down. Everyone stared at her, waiting for her next move.

  The scribe stood to one side, behind the queen. She opened a large book and began writing in it with a quill.

  To the queen’s right, the older man stood considerably closer to her so that he could be consulted and whisper in her ear if need be. To her left, Lady Lexa stood looking happy, proud, and slightly nervous all at the same time.

  Elliah gestured toward the older man and said, “This is Lord Roberton, my most trusted advisor. And you all know Lady Lexa, who sponsored your visit and has told me so much about you and the present dilemma.”

  Lexa smiled. Everyone at the table nodded. Roberton inclined his head slightly, in greeting.

  Ellia said, “So, I have sent my ambassador to King Sthenos’s court a message to deliver. To wit, I am informing the king of the elves that you two, Toby and Tawny, are under my protection. Further efforts at assassination will be considered by me tantamount to a declaration of war.”

  This surprised everyone and it showed on their faces.

  Elliah smiled slightly, and decided to explain things a bit more.

  “You see, it’s one thing to tell another monarch someone is under our protection. But, if we do not back up that assertion, it’s rather pointless. The easiest way to get the other monarch’s attention, and to respect our declaration, is to tell them we’ll go to war otherwise. This is the way royals correspond with one another.”

  “But . . . would you really do it?” Tawny said.

  Roberton looked mildly scandalized that anyone would question the queen, never mind the fact she had declared the session an informal one.

  But Elliah just smiled at her and said, “Of course. But, Sthenos knows I would, and so he won’t send more assassins. Just as I know he would declare war if I did something he threatened me over. It’s our way.”

  Mollified, Tawny clammed up.

  “So that, I believe, solves one of the problems you brought to me, Lady Lexa.”

  Lexa smiled, and bowed slightly. But her face betrayed the tension revolving around the other major issue.

  Elliah said, “As for the other one, as I understand it, the theory goes something like this. Your mother, Tawny, Toby . . . perhaps created the Dungeon of Melody when Sthenos’s assassins tried to kill you some years ago.”

  Tawny shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Lexa had confided her theory to Tawny on the trip, and said she would discuss it with Elliah. But to face the queen herself suddenly brought an abstract thought into harsh reality.

  Tawny said, “Yes, uh, Your Majesty. And, I wish I could contribute more to the . . . the theory. But, my mother sent us away by portal stone before facing the last of her adversaries. I was not there for her final battle.”

  Elliah could see the look of longing and frustration on the young elf’s face.

  “You couldn’t have helped her, Tawny. She knew what she was doing, sending you away. Nonetheless
, Roberton tells me we might be able to find out for sure what happened, thanks to a certain spell he knows.”

  Everyone’s eyes shifted to the older man standing behind the queen.

  He nodded and said, “I’m a mage, although most of my specialties revolve around spells such Discerning Truth and others advantageous to the court.”

  This elicited some raised eyebrows and heightened interest, especially among the casters in the group.

  “And one spell I have that might be especially advantageous to us right now is called Sight of the Past.”

  Justen nodded. He said, “I’m familiar with that one, although I must say it is rare and rumored to be difficult. Can it go back half a century or more? That would take some intense mana and concentration, I would imagine.”

  Roberton said, “Indeed. It is difficult and very taxing. However, I can manage. And yes, it is quite effective in showing us past events provided we have a link with the living. And elves live quite long lives.”

  Everyone turned to look at Tawny.

  She blushed, the tips of her pointy ears growing red.

  Roberton said, “The spell goes back to a point in time in the person’s memory. Then we can stay near that point, even if the person left. It offers us a window into the past. All I need is someone who was there, near the events we want to see.”

  Tawny said, “Whatever it takes. I . . . I would hate to see my mother’s death. But on the other hand, I would like to know what happened.”

  “Very well,” Elliah said, clapping her hands. “Let’s give everyone a moment to gather their thoughts, then we’ll have Roberton cast the spell.”

  Servants took this opportunity to run in and fetch dirty plates and refill mugs. Everyone scooted back in their chairs.

  Roberton made a gesture and Tawny stood, then approached him.

  “This won’t take but a moment,” he assured her in a low voice. “I simply must reach back into your mind to when you last saw your mother. Then we will stay in the same place, watching that particular spot in time. Perhaps we’ll learn something from this.”

  Tawny nodded and closed her eyes while Roberton placed his hands on her temples. His fingers on either side of her head felt light and cool to the touch.

  In her mind she remembered the last time she saw her mother. She heard some small gasps and Percel muttering under his breath as what she recalled suddenly appeared in a cloud over the table.

  Her mother looked at her and shoved a very young and smaller Toby into her arms.

  “Time for you to go, Tawny. This stone will take you to a city. You will be safe there.”

  “Will you join us, Mother?”

  Tawny’s tear-streaked face looked up at her, distraught.

  “If I can. If I can’t, stay hidden. Don’t let them find you. Now go!”

  Tawny hugged her little brother, who while shorter nonetheless outweighed her by several pounds. She rubbed the stone and they disappeared.

  Tawny’s mother glanced over her shoulder and stopped suddenly, staring.

  Tawny gasped as she realized her mother was staring directly at her in the present.

  Her mother smiled and said, “Ah, Sight of the Past. That one’s rather difficult. I take it this means you survived, Daughter. Good. You’ll want to see what comes next.”

  Chapter 11

  Toni sighed with relief once the children were gone. She hid them during the earlier battles, but now . . . now he was coming. She was sure of it.

  So she gave Tawny her last portal stone, and sent them away, to a human city. They should be safe there, at least for a while, she thought.

  Then, with her heightened senses she noticed the spell behind her, Sight of the Past. It was an old and difficult spell, but she had seen it before and she knew how to look through it to see who was behind the casting, who remembered this point in time.

  She had dared hoped who she would find. The spell called for a memory. Surely it was this one, this moment in time so important to her and her children.

  She looked. . . and it was her daughter! Tawny gazed back through a hazy window from across the years, older than the girl she had just sent away.

  “Ah, Sight of the Past. That one’s rather difficult. I take it this means you survived, Daughter. Good. You’ll want to see what comes next.”

  Tawny lived! Toni’s heart leaped with joy at the thought. This coming battle would not be in vain, no matter what happened. She was determined to give it her all, especially with Tawny watching. She would fight with everything she had against him.

  Against the master.

  She could feel a profound sense of foreboding in the air with just the thought of him. It settled into her bones and churned at the pit of her stomach, sending up bile.

  Doom! Doom drew near. Doom and judgment.

  Judgment was the highest virtue, and the highest elven class. The one coming was Andreia, like her. But he carried with him an edict from the king. He would bring the king’s justice as surely as if he were Dikaiosynē himself.

  Doom with foretold judgment breathed down her neck, froze her blood and turned her bowels to water.

  But this was part of his magic. This was his technique. Guilty people knew he was coming for them. The great hunter, the greatest battle mage of them all, meted out the king’s justice.

  He had taught her of his techniques, imparting wisdom and secrets that only one of the older elves could possibly know.

  And she had learned so much from him.

  She had learned how to create and cast what was needed on the fly, to not rely completely on memorized spells as so many do.

  She had learned how to use imagination when spellcasting, to let her mind soar with possibilities.

  She had become the best battlemage in a generation under his tutelage.

  Now he was coming for her. He was coming to fix the mistakes others made, when they failed to kill her and the children.

  But the children lived! Tawny would grow up and learn that complex spell, or at least find someone talented enough to cast it for her.

  The master would not find the children, even many years later.

  That gave her hope. She clung to it, desperately.

  No, for her it was more than hope. It was a certainty. A foreknowledge that meeting her old master would not be in vain, no matter the outcome. No matter what happened, Tawny lived and would look back in the past someday to discover her mother’s fate.

  She smiled grimly, and cast a spell of her own on the hazy window into the future.

  “Follow me.”

  The spell linked itself to her presence. Now, no matter where she went, the window from Sight of the Past would follow. Tawny would see what happened, of that she was certain. She only hoped that Toby was there with her.

  Toni left the room, and walked outside the simple village house. She stretched her arms and rose in the air.

  Her black leather tunic and pants made her hard to see in the gloom of the evening, not that it would matter in the coming conflict.

  She floated toward the edge of the village.

  “Better to hold a battle in the fields than risk anyone getting hurt,” she said. She did not know if she spoke for her future daughter, or herself.

  The sense of impending doom grew stronger, pressing down on her senses as if she were underneath a hundred feet of water and sinking deeper.

  Toni gritted her teeth, fighting the pressure mentally, emotionally, physically.

  “Bring it.”

  At the village’s edge, a dark rift opened, blotting out the night sky.

  A tall elf stepped out of the rift, old and powerful. His gray hair shined dully in the starlight, and his deep blue eyes looked bright despite the evening gloom. He wore a simple black robe and dark leather sandals.

  He floated through the air, traveling through the rift and into Toni’s presence.

  He looked at her without expression, the wrinkles on his face hinting at his incredible age but no emotion.
>
  Despite herself, despite the bloodlust from previous battles and the urgency of her present situation and the knowledge they would soon come to blows. . . Despite all that, Toni offered this old elf her utmost respect.

  She nodded at him while pulling in as much extra mana to her inner self as she possibly could.

  Toni said, “Megalos Magos.”

  His eyes seemed indifferent. Uncaring. Cold.

  For many moments he said nothing. He regarded her as if she were a bug on the ground, or a curio in a cabinet.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “You have a new name. You are young. Elves of old held names in the Old Tongue. Sthenos. Magos. These names mean something. They are powerful names, and they respect the old ways.

  “Several centuries ago, the younger generations began bequeathing their children modern names.

  “I protested to Sthenos. I told him, ‘Do not allow these contemporary names, my king. It will lead to worse things. People will begin to disrespect other traditions as well.’

  “He laughed at me. He said it was a trivial concern.

  “Yet now, here we are. One such as you, of the younger generation with a modern name, has committed a heinous crime against our people.”

  “Master, I . . . I did not know I could bear another child. I am beyond the normal age.”

  A single tear trickled down her face as the emotions churned inside her. Fear. Regret. Shame. Love.

  He looked at her unblinking. When he spoke again, disappointment tainted his voice.

  “You were my finest pupil. I thought, here is someone who someday, centuries hence, could perhaps even replace me. She is powerful. Intelligent.

  “These were but the foolish notions of an old elf.”

  Darkness coalesced around him as he pulled in mana of his own. His voice grew sharper, laced now with anger.

  “You chose to have intimate relations outside your class. That is atrocious, and worthy of death by itself, even without a product of your union.”

  Toni’s eyes flashed in anger of her own.

  She said, “So, will you see to the execution of the king’s brother, too? Will you chase him down once you are finished with me?”