Eligium- The Complete Series

by Jake Allen Coleman

Following the spiraling tunnel, Krystelle and Cenric made their way to the lower dungeon in haste. Smoky torches lit the way, but two in three had burnt out. The lower they went, the greater Krystelle’s misgivings. “Why are there still no guards? We should have encountered someone by now!”

  Cenric had no answer. He just knew he didn’t like these corridors. They were dark and dirty, very different from the parts of the keep he had seen on his previous visit to the Dazhberg. Decades of flaming torches had scorched the walls black with soot and there was a stench that just kept getting stronger. There was something very wrong here and it went beyond a few missing guards. He grew more and more withdrawn and with every step a dread grew in his heart.

  They emerged into the lower dungeon’s central hub. The deep cells were reserved for the worst of the worst criminals, and there weren’t a lot of them. A single torch burned in the corner, casting a dim light that stretched partway across the room. Prisoners in the deep spent their days and nights in abject darkness. Krystelle had only ventured this deep once and the guards had sent her scurrying back to the main levels.

  “It’s cold.” Cenric shivered, breath coming out in wisps of fog.

  It was cold. Colder than it should have been. Dread gripped her heart and it was all she could do not to turn back. Clenching her fists, she summoned her resolved, “Quickly now Cenric. Let’s check the cells and be on our way. Sebastian may need us.”

  “I’m sure the lad is doing fine on his own.” The wave of chills that cascaded down Krystelle’s spine at the sound of that oily voice had nothing to do with the temperature. Two cloaked figures emerged from the shadows.

  Drawing her sword, she swept Cenric back, “Get behind me!”

  With a wave of his hand, Radomil swept her aside from across the room, throwing her to the ground. Her sword skittered across the stony floor. “My dear, mere steel will not avail you any more than it did your father. He’s dead you know. He should not have tried to interfere.”

  Stunned, she struggled back to her feet. Pulling out a pair of concealed daggers she lunged at the dark wizard once more. Before she could come within five feet, he gripped the air with his hand and brought it down violently. Krystelle slammed into the ground. Trying to rise one last time, he pushed her down. Imprisoned by the invisible force that felt like a wagon-load of stone had been piled on her body.

  Meanwhile, the second wizard turned to Cenric, preparing to cast his own spell. Before he completed it, Cenric lashed out with his own. Absorbing the energy, Tapani reflected it back and his own magic crashed into Cenric, slamming him against the wall. “Your feeble spells are no match for me. You have a choice. You can come with us now, willingly, and we will spare your friend there.”

  “Or?”

  “Or we will kill the intrepid Krystelle Mora and you will still come with us. The choice is yours.”

  “No Cenric! Don’t trust him. They’ll kill me no matter what you do.”

  “Tsk tsk. Surely you don’t doubt my word?” said Tapani.

  “What are you going to do with him?” said Krystelle, gritting her teeth from the invisible weight still holding her down.

  “Sterling Lex has a proposition to lay before him. Now, boy. What will it be? Are you going to force me to kill your friend?”

  Cenric looked from Tapani to Krystelle. Eyes pleading she shook her head, begging him not to acquiesce. He looked back to the sorcerer. “Don’t hurt her anymore. I’ll come with you.”

  “Excellent!” said Tapani at the same time Krystelle shouted out, “Cenric no!”

  Striding over to the boy, the dark wizard swept his cloak around the two of them. Krystelle watched as the three of them shimmered away. “Cenric,” she whispered one last time.

  With Radomil’s departure, the force holding her dissipated. Every bone aching, she pushed herself to her feet. Grabbing her sword, she hurried towards the cells. She had a mission to fulfill, and regardless of what the wizard had said there was still a chance her father was down here somewhere.

  #

  Striding into the Aodhan Bret, Sebastian found the two wizards standing vigil next to Arch-mage Philon’s body. Just past them he could see Lord Eoghan sprawled out, his sword lying next to him. Why was Eoghan here? He wondered. And how long had they been standing there? He could now see the translucent crystal dome hugging the inside wall of the chamber. The barrier that kept the Krenon from entering the heart of the Dazhberg. Picking up the Moonstone he made his way over to them. “Masters?”

  His voice sent a jolt through the two wizards, unfreezing them. “Lad,” said Master Gerhard, “You’ve returned. Does this mean…”

  “…you’ve recovered the Moonstone?” Master Darden completed the thought. “Quickly now…”

  “…we must position it in its alcove.” Sebastian had a hard time telling the wizards apart as it was, and the two completing each other’s sentences was not going to help matters. Following the two across to the west alcove, Sebastian nestled the Moonstone in its cradle.

  As he released the Moonstone it emitted a brilliant flash of light, followed by the crack of thunder. At the sound, the crystalline barrier shattered into a million shards of pure energy that rained down on the whole of the Aodhan Bret, dissolving away into nothingness as they fell.

  “The barrier!” said Sebastian, “It was the only thing protecting the stones from the Krenon.”

  “Do not fret…” began Darden.

  “…it is no longer needed,” finished Gerhard, “With the first two Eligium restored, they will not be able to remain long in the fortress, and their hold on the Dragon Guard will be undone.”

  Sebastian looked at the two wizards with suspicion. How could they be sure? He had not gone through everything just to lose the stones now. “Are you sure the stones are safe?” The two wizards nodded in unison. “Then I must go help my friends. They are in the dungeons trying to free the High Council. Can you help me find it?”

  “You will not be in time...” That was Darden again.

  “…Krystelle Mora will return with the High Council shortly,” Gerhard gestured towards the stone table. “The boy’s fate…”

  “…is clouded,” Darden made his way to Philon’s body. “We must prepare the Arch-mage for his final journey”

  “What do you mean, ‘clouded’?” Sebastian was not about to let the duo get away with a change of subject.

  “All will be revealed in time.” For once, Gerhard managed to complete his own sentence.

  #

  Together with the two wizards, Sebastian moved Arch-mage Philon’s body from the Aodhan Bret into a nearby side chamber. They laid the corpse on a wooden table and Darden closed the old wizard’s eyes one last time.

  “How did he die?” wondered Sebastian.

  Darden paused for a long moment, “It was the strain of raising the barrier that killed him, and fending off Lord Eoghan.”

  “But that was days ago! There should be some sign of decay, yet there is none. And why would he have to fend off Lord Eoghan?”

  “Patience, Sebastian. All will be revealed in time. I can tell you this, within the chamber time ceased to flow,” Gerhard took up the explanation, “We stood suspended in time while you and your companions sought the Eligius Ealadha.”

  He paused, and Darden continued for him. “When you penetrated the barrier, the time stream began to flow once more.”

  Not quite understanding, Sebastian led the way back into the main chamber to wait for Krystelle and Cenric. It was not long before Krystelle entered the Aodhan Bret, accompanied by the remnant of the High Council. Greeting the two wizards, the councilors moved to take their places at the stone table. One seat was noticeably vacant.

  Sebastian took a step toward the newcomers, “Krystelle, your father. Where is he?”

  “He fell Sebastian. Sterling Lex’s wizards infiltrated the keep. They killed him.” She wiped away the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

  He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I’m
so sorry.” She turned into his arm and they embraced for a long moment.

  Composing herself, she pulled away and they joined the High Council where Lord Commander Teoma gave an account of the state of the fortress defenses.

  “It appears that all the Krenon forces have disappeared and General Njord has fled with his command. I’ll leave it to our brothers from Uriaz to glean where the Krenon may have gone. Of our forces, only a handful of knights remain. The others are dead or scattered. The guard is reduced to a mere fraction of its former might, which is not much considering where we were before this started.”

  “What are you saying?” said Damianus.

  “Frankly my Lords, this assault has broken the back of the Order. It will take a decade to restore our forces and repair the damage done to the fortress.”

  “I fear we do not have the luxury of that kind of time,” said Lord Marcello. “Neither Sterling Lex nor the Krenon will wait ten years to make their next move. What council would Uriasz give us?”

  “My Lords,” said Krystelle, “If I may?” Damianus nodded his assent. “Two of Sterling Lex’s dark wizards were in the lower dungeon. I spoke with them.”

  Something had been bothering Sebastian. He finally realized what it was. “Cenric! Where is he?” Damianus gave him a stern look at the interruption.

  “I was coming to that,” said Krystelle. “The two wizards I saw…they took him and will have brought him to Sterling Lex by now.”

  “Why would Lex take the boy?” said Marcello.

  Rising to their feet the two wizards spoke in unison, “Grave is the news you bring Krystelle Mora. Cenric is one who could command the power of the Eligius Siothrun. The future is dark, and has now grown darker. We must take counsel and consider.” Without a backward glance, they made their way out of the Aodhan Bret.

  The room was silent for a long moment at the wizards’ abrupt departure. Damianus broke the silence with a stern word, “We will adjourn for now. There is much work to be done and much to consider.”

  Sebastian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But what of our friend? We have to go after Cenric!”

  Damianus regarded him for a long moment and his face softened, “We will go after your friend another day, when we know more. Today we mourn our dead and celebrate our victories.”

  “High Councilor,” said Teoma. “Before we adjourn, there is one more thing that must be done.” The High Councilor signaled his assent. “Sebastian, come forward. From what Krystelle has told us you have shown much honor and bravery in these days. Even here, in this chamber, your concern for your friend is evident, yet you have shown a restraint you did not know before. Do you remember what I said to you when last you stood in this chamber?”

  “Yes. You told me to demonstrate to you in both word and action that I should be admitted into the Order of Gabirel.”

  “And do you remember what else I said?”

  “That at any time your decision could come.”

  “Indeed, and I have made my decision. Are you ready to hear it? Will you abide by my decision?”

  “I am ready, my Lord, and I will abide.”

  Then as the Lord Commander, I hereby admit you to the ranks of the Squires. Sebastian Pwyll, I welcome you to the Order of Gabirel.”

  #

  It was late in the night as Witek approached the council chamber in Hallvard. The signal had come from Sterling Lex that very evening and it was time for all his years of plotting to come to fruition. That could only mean that Radomil and Tapani had fulfilled their mission to bring the boy to Cinaeth.

  Entering the council chamber itself, he took a moment to soak in the power resident there. Hallvard was ancient, perhaps the most ancient construction in the world, and this was its heart. Even at this hour, the living green stones illuminating the cavern glowed with their inner light. There were no guards. Why should there be? No one came to Hallvard uninvited, much less found their way to this chamber. The hidden door at the rear of the dais was evident to his eyes. There were few outside the council that knew this door, and the chamber beyond, existed. It had taken him years of effort to gain Finnguala’s trust and discover the chamber’s location. The seeds he had planted there would lead Finnguala to lay blame for Witek’s actions this night on the heads of Gabirel and Uriasz.

  Making his way onto the dais, he laid a hand on the door, eyes closed. The outline of the door glowed red as he tapped into the seals holding the door shut. With a rumble, the door slid open to reveal the hidden room.

  Without a backward glance, Witek swept into the room. Shelves carved into rock lined three walls, surrounding a pedestal at the center. Objects of power were arranged just so on the shelves. There was Mladen’s Helm sitting next to the Axe of Seachnall, along with an array of other items he did not recognize. Every weapon and device in the Armory of Hallvard was a legend in its own right.

  The greatest weapon of them all lay there on the pedestal in the center of the room. The red stone with its iron chain called to him. Witek laid a hand on the stone, caressing its chiseled surface. This prize was worth all the rest, yet using it came with its own dangers.

  Lifting the stone and chain he held them up for a moment, searching for the fire deep inside. Was that a flicker he saw? He tore his gaze away and laid the stone and chain gently in his pouch. Turning from the pedestal, he reemerged into the council chamber itself and strode toward the entrance. Behind him, the door to the hidden Armory stood open. When the theft was discovered, it would be assumed that only a wizard from Uriasz could have breached the seals. It would not occur to the council that one of their own was responsible.

  By the time his own absence was realized, that explanation would be set in the minds of the dwarven council. They were used to his comings and goings and would think nothing of the coincidence. It did not take Witek long to make his way to Hallvard’s hidden entrance where he had left his horse and supplies. Mounting up, he started down the narrow trail leading to the valley and the road to Cinaeth where Sterling Lex waited.

  Dragonstone

  Book 3

  Cloaked in dark robes a hooded figure made his way up the worn stairway, leaning on a gnarled wooden cane. He had made this fortress his own after the demise of their prior keeper. Empty sconces appeared every so often, devoid of the torches that would light this pathway. He no longer required torches in the dark and scarcely remembered the time when he had welcomed light. The darkness was a comfort to him, a gentle blanket that surrounded him and kept him in its cold embrace.

  A new wooden door greeted him at the top of the stairs with faint scarring on the frame the only evidence of the black powder that destroyed its predecessor. A clever piece of work that. Something he might have thought of himself in former days. He no longer required such crude machinations, even with the constraints of the Ban still in place.

  The Ban. It galled him to labor under the constraints imposed cruelly on him and others like him—such as the boy he visited this night. The wheels were turning though and with each passing day the end of the Ban drew nearer.

  Waving a hand over the locking mechanism, he unlocked both the physical and magical locks securing the door. The physical lock turned with a mechanical clunk, falling away as the wards he had placed there dissipated. If all proceeded according to his designs, those locks would soon be unnecessary.

  Entering the room, he found the boy slumbering. Brought here to Cinaeth some days ago, the necessities of food and water had been provided, but little else. The loneliness would have taken its toll along with the subtle spells laid upon his mind. He should be ready.

  Sitting on the one hard-backed chair next to the pallet the old man settled in to wait for the boy to wake. Drawing back his hood exposed a gaunt, drawn face with hollowed out eyes and receding grey hair that slicked back to form a widow’s peak above his forehead. Clean-shaven, the sorcerer’s thin lips curved downward in perpetual displeasure.

  The boy laying on the pallet, with curly blond hair limp
and damp, was like a lump of clay ready to be formed and fit for purpose. That clay was now malleable, and it was time to start reforming. Should that fail, he could simply mash the work and begin anew. Fingers peaked in front of his face, he watched as the boy slumbered on, occupied with thoughts of how this tool would fit into his larger plan.

  An hour passed before the boy stirred. Bringing himself back to the present he saw the boy stretch out and wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. It was too dark in the room for the boy to recognize he was not alone and that gave the old man a chance to examine the boy’s state as he woke.

  With enough light, the old man's grim smile would have unnerved the boy. It was not a smile of glee or satisfaction. It was more the smile of grim reaper as he carried his prey to its doom.

  “Who’s there?” said the boy, his voice shaking. He drew himself to a sitting position and curled back as he realized he was not alone.

  “One who would help you,” said the old man in a whisper.

  “If you’re here to help me, why isn’t there any light?”

  Waving a hand, the old man uttered a power word and a pair of torches bracketing the door flared to life. “There, is that better?”

  Blinking at the sudden light, the boy’s eyes grew wide seeing the old man sitting so close. “Who…who…who are you?”

  “Who I am is inconsequential…for the moment. All that matters right now is that I want to help you.”

  The boy mustered his courage, “If you want to help me, then let me go!”

  “All in good time young Cenric, all in good time.”

  Cenric Brice blinked in surprise, “How do you know my name?”

  The old man smiled again, “I know a good many things about you Cenric. A good many things. I know you aspire to become a wizard. I know you were abandoned in Aldmoor without guidance or direction. I know you have an unquenchable thirst and desire for knowledge. These things are all true, are they not?” He continued without waiting for a response. “I also know you have great potential, but that potential has been stymied and blocked by those protective of their own power and position. You threaten them, Cenric. I know because once upon a time I was as you are now: young, full of life and vigor. My unrealized potential obvious to old men and women sitting on their thrones in Uriasz,” his hypnotic voice seeped into Cenric’s mind, carrying the boy along with the spell. “They looked at me and saw that their time was coming to an end. Do you know what they did then?”