Gondrial drew his sword and nodded to Seancey for him to do the same.
“There is no need for your caution,” Esperdahl said.
“Right,” Gondrial said nodding. Esperdahl shook his head and led the way to the stairway.
The stairway, made of carved stone, spiraled slightly downward to the left and entered into a large room at least as large as the temple above. Lining the walls were racks filled with armor and weaponry. Dorenn could see the area where Kyrie must have lived. It was in a corner of the massive room and contained a fire pit, a makeshift bed, and several odd knickknacks. Esperdahl led the party to a particular rack of rusty armor, and Dorenn frowned as Kyrie pulled one of the sets down. The decaying breastplate was not of high quality, but since Dorenn had no armor, he decided to say nothing.
“Here you go, friend,” Kyrie said as he handed the rusty armor to Rennon.
“Thank you,” Rennon said, looking at the armor as if it were about to crumble in his hands.
“What? No, no, I’m not giving you that to keep.” Kyrie laughed. “Get rid of that old rust bucket. Set it aside,” he said as Esperdahl pressed on the rack. It toppled into the wall behind, revealing an opening.
“I managed to conceal this doorway not long before the curse.” He pressed the doorway open and entered. The sconces on the walls lit up immediately, alerting Dorenn that Esperdahl was indeed more than he seemed.
Inside the room was a treasury of armor and weaponry. The racks and the room were small, making the treasure seem larger than it was.
“Welcome to the hidden armory of Signal Hill. A place designed to hold the most unique arms and armor of the age.” Esperdahl picked up a broadsword and handed it to Seancey “This is Elvander, a most powerful sword. I present it to you.” He also gathered up a suit of combination chain mail and plate armor. “This is the companion armor to the sword. It is the pride of the elven kings of old. It is said no arrow, spear, nor any weapon of piercing can penetrate it.” Seancey set aside the sword and took the armor, holding it as if it were a poisonous viper. “Take it, Ranger of the Vale, it has no curse upon it. Surely you can see it was crafted by the skill of the elves of old?”
Seancey feigned a grin and nodded.
Esperdahl opened an overly large chest and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Dorenn. “Here you go, something fit for a wielder.”
“I am not a wielder,” Dorenn protested.
“Oh, aren’t you? I sense it all about you.” He paused. “Here, this is Dranmalin, forged by the dragons. It is light and deadly to creatures of shadow. Its name translates to dragon hammer in the tongue of the drakes of Draegodor.”
At first, Dorenn was reluctant to take the sword, but he couldn’t resist. It was familiar to him somehow. It was a broadsword with the head of a dragon at its pummel, as if it were biting down on the grip, which was wrapped in a strange leather. The guard was a single, double ended talon complete with a claw at each end, and two talons extended a ways down the blade from the hilt with claws curving inward to the blade. He took the sword and it felt natural to his touch, like it had belonged to him all along. He studied it intently for a moment and then realized why it seemed familiar. It was the sword from his reoccurring dream!
“Curious sensation, is it not?” Esperdahl commented. “That sword chooses its master and binds itself to him. If you handed the sword back to me now I would not be able to hold it, nor anyone for that matter. As you become familiar with it and bond with it, you will discover its true power.”
“What did you call it again?” Dorenn asked.
“Dranmalin.”
Dorenn felt a chill run up his spine. It was the sword from his dream of the girl falling through the trees.
Esperdahl removed a set of silver and white armor from another rack and gave it to Rennon. “This is the armor of Adjent Amar. It will not interfere with the magic you wield, and it has no helm to obstruct you. It is truly the armor of a mindwielder.”
“What did you call me?” Rennon asked in horror at being called a wielder in front of the party.
“Mindwielder.” Esperdahl dismissed Rennon’s protest with the wave of his thin hand. “It is of no matter, friend, I meant no offense. Please accept the armor in good faith.” Rennon took the armor, already developing a dislike for the high priest.
Kyrie spotted something on a nearby wooden table. “Oh and here are the daggers I planned to steal. They will never lose their master if you treat them with respect.” Esperdahl moved with haste, almost knocking the little rogue off his feet. He grabbed the daggers off the table and glared at Kyrie with contempt.
“I wasn’t going to take them right in front of you,” he said defensively.
“I should hope not!” Esperdahl handed both of the daggers to Rennon, who smiled in spite of himself. The daggers were beautiful, golden-jeweled and carved with strange creatures Rennon had never seen before.
Kyrie appeared disappointed.
Esperdahl disappeared behind a canvas draped over a collection of swords and returned a moment later with a breastplate made of blue dragon scales and handed it to Tatrice. “This is the armor and weaponry of a dragon knight who lost his life in the battle for the Sacred Land. Just before his final moment, he asked me to give this armor to one that could wear it with pride. The broodlord seemed quite determined that I swear to do as he asked. He also felt compelled to tell me that the dragon master he was sworn to serve is called Amadace the Blue. He told me that I must see that it is worn again.”
Sylvalora spoke up. “Excuse me, kind sir, but I have never heard of a woman donning the armor of a dragon knight. Are you certain you honor the broodlord’s wishes correctly?”
Esperdahl’s face contorted into a malicious scowl. “As clearly and correctly as your own words. I follow the will of Loracia and that armor goes to the young woman by my goddess’ order!”
Sylvalora raised an eyebrow, “I did not mean to offend.”
“Mean or no, you offended.” He retorted.
“Forgive me. high priest.” Sylvalora said.
“I am no warrior,” Tatrice said, turning up her nose to the armor. “Why not give it to one of the men?” She inspected the breastplate. “This armor is crafted for a man.”
“I have sworn to give it to you, and now I have given it to you. It is yours. I have fulfilled my promise. Female or not, it is no longer my concern. Do with it as you wish.”
Kyrie pulled a long, slender sword from a plain green and blue scabbard. Seancey reached for his sword but stopped when he realized Kyrie did not intend to wield the weapon. “The dragon knight’s sword is called a dragon fang by the way, and his shield and armor are made of dragon scales.”
Esperdahl took the sword from Kyrie and handed it to Tatrice. “This too belongs with the armor.”
“All right, how is a suit of armor useful to me when I am not to fight in battle alongside men?” Tatrice lamented.
Enowene exhaled. “It is a gift, dear. Try to think of it as such and not complain.”
Gondrial rubbed his hands together urgently. “We need to speed this along and prepare for travel. A few ancient trinkets are fine, but we still need to vacate this village.”
“Trinkets!” Esperdahl puffed up in anger.
“I’m sure he meant nothing by it.” Enowene said while giving Gondrial the evil eye. “Well, thank you for the gifts, Esperdahl, we will be sure to have the clerics and smiths in the Vale of Morgoran look them over when we return,” Enowene said.
Dorenn caught the sarcasm in her voice although he did not understand her tone.
“I am embarrassed that I do not have more gifts to bestow.” Esperdahl said. “If you see anything that fits your needs, you are free to take it.” He looked at Seancey while he spoke.
“What you have given is enough, your grace,” Lady Shey said.
Esperdahl bowed to Vesperin. “Thank you for my freedom, young cleric. I shall begin work on removing the curse at once.”
“All right, we’re all happy. Now, if you could show us to the tunnel?” Gondrial said impatiently.
Esperdahl gave him a sour gaze. “Manners have somewhat changed in my absence from the world I see.” He reached for a magically preserved wooden staff. “This way, follow me.”
Chapter 26: Revelations
Dorenn understood why Gondrial had decided again not to use the travel spell to get back to the Vale quickly. If the Enforcers had reinforcements in the area, they would be attracted to their whereabouts, and they might not accept the fate of their companions as the truth. The spell was also somewhat unstable, or at least his wielder companions didn’t fully grasp its concepts. Dorenn was not sure he wanted them playing around with something that even they didn’t fully understand. He put his arm around Tatrice’s waist, and she awkwardly moved in closer to him with a clink of her armor. “I wish I could take this breastplate off; it is terribly uncomfortable in the chest area,” she whispered.
“If Rennon still has a bit of twine I could carry it on my back,” Dorenn offered. Tatrice stopped and lowered her pack.
“Hold up a moment, Kerad, while Tatrice removes her breastplate,” Dorenn shouted ahead. “Rennon, do you still have some of that twine you were carrying?”
“Aye,” Rennon answered, removing his pack and rummaging through it. “Ah, here it is.”
Dorenn took the twine from Rennon and tied it through the arm outlets of the breastplate, after Tatrice had freed herself of it, and swung it over his pack, securing it to his pack straps.
“Is it too heavy for you?” Tatrice asked.
“Aye, but I will manage it. The Vale can’t be all that far away.”
Seancey stepped beside Dorenn. “Here, let me take it. It will not encumber me.”
Dorenn nodded and swung the armor down from his shoulder, and Seancey easily swung it onto his back.
“Thank you, Seancey,” Tatrice said.
Seancey grinned at Tatrice and signaled for Kerad to lead on. Dorenn put his arm around Tatrice, and she snuggled in close. “That’s better,” she said.
The morning sun was blinding as the party caught first sight of the trees surrounding the Vale of Morgoran in the distance.
“I think I will sleep for a week,” Rennon said.
“Aye, as soon as I get some breakfast in my belly I will as well,” Vesperin said.
Kerad rubbed the back of his neck. “Only another hour or so to the Vale. I think we all deserve a rest and some breakfast. I can almost smell the bacon frying now.”
“I want to soak in a nice, hot tub before I turn in,” Enowene said. “This robe has collected a fair amount of dust hanging in that dank armory for so long.”
“I can’t believe we almost missed these hanging in the armory. Maybe we should have dusted them off better before putting them on.” Lady Shey said as she patted dust off her arm.
“What are they made from again?” Tatrice asked.
“They are woven from elven silk. It cannot be burned or torn, and time will not wear it down as long as its magic holds,” Enowene said.
As the day wore on and the party came closer to the Vale of Morgoran, Dorenn felt uneasiness begin to well up inside of him, a heaviness of heart, apprehension like a child scolded for something he knew he did but did not want to admit. The large oak trees surrounding the Vale seemed to bend and scowl at him somehow. A cold, chilling breeze began to rustle the branches around him. Tatrice noticed him shiver. “What is it, Dorenn?”
Dorenn pulled her tighter to his side. “Something is different. Something is wrong,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s the Vale; something does not sit right with it.” He analyzed the trees swaying in the wind. A branch, blown in an abrupt gust of wind, snapped and tumbled to earth before them with a crack. Dark ominous clouds began to roll in, and the wind picked up, growing stronger.
Kerad pulled his cloak around him. “Hurry now, a storm is blowing in.”
The party rushed into the clearing where the tower of Morgoran rose above the main stone buildings. Rain began to fall in sheets as they passed the guard towers.
Seancey motioned to the guards. “Secure the main gate from the storm, men.” The guards pulled the iron gates shut behind the party after they entered and bolted them down. A priest of Loracia met them at the entrance to the main hall and bowed before Kerad. “Thank Loracia you have returned, Brother Kerad. Morgoran has taken ill. Neither prayer nor any healing I understand has eased his suffering. He needs your expertise.”
“You will pardon my haste, dear friends?” Kerad said, dropping his pack in the main entrance hall.
“Of course, Kerad, see to the master,” Enowene replied. Kerad followed the priest up the side stairs to the tower.
“I will help Brother Kerad if I can,” Vesperin said, excusing himself.
“Lady Shey, come with me, and we will see if we can be of use,” Enowene said as she deposited her pack where Kerad had left his. Lady Shey lowered her pack and sighed. Dorenn felt as if Lady Shey actually dreaded to follow Enowene, and as he watched her, he noticed her wrinkle her nose at Sylvalora before she finally followed Enowene up the stairway. Sylvalora nodded and lagged behind the rest. Dorenn noticed the elf maiden did not seem particularly interested in following Lady Shey or Enowene; instead, she meandered out of the hall and out of sight. Dorenn heard Seancey mutter something about the storm just before the ranger excused himself to the courtyard.
Servants cleared away the rest of the packs and equipment. After a change into dry cloths, Dorenn was happy to see a servant come to the living quarters and announce their meal was ready. Tatrice and Rennon followed Dorenn and Gondrial down the hallways to the table at the dining room center. It was a long table constructed of heavy wood with carved, high back chairs. It appeared to be quite old. Dorenn seated himself next to Tatrice, and Gondrial assumed the head of the table. Rennon sat opposite of Dorenn and Tatrice to Gondrial’s left.
“I hope the cook’s in a good mood,” Gondrial began, “because I am as hungry as an ox.”
“Me too,” Tatrice said.
Dorenn shivered as he peered out of the window at the head-end of the dining hall. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Rain poured down, tossed and blown by the wind, which, in turn, howled through the shutters. A servant hurried to the window and pulled the shutters closed, fastening them tightly against the storm.
The cook served brisket sandwiches and ale. Dorenn’s hunger was strong, but he could not seem to stomach the food. He forced himself to eat anyway.
Seancey entered the dining hall in a rush. “You best finish your meal, Gondrial. Word has it that more Enforcers are on their way. You will need to prepare for them.”
“How could they possibly be sending more men?” Gondrial asked.
Seancey pondered the question for a moment. “I suppose they were to meet up with their companions here, or perhaps they were to rendezvous and Captain Praf never showed.”
Gondrial slammed his mug of ale onto the table. “Once we complete our task at hand, Seancey, remind me to raise an army and do away with those annoying Enforcers once and for all.” Seancey smiled and nodded at Gondrial’s jest. “How far away are they?”
“Difficult to say. The scout believes a day, maybe less,” Seancey answered.
“The rest of you, eat up and gather your things. We will leave again as soon as I make some preparations and the rain breaks. A day or less doesn’t give us a very good head start.” Gondrial shook his head, gulped his ale in one breath, and then stomped out of the dining hall. Seancey followed him.
Dorenn’s head began to swim. He felt dizzy.
“What is it, Dorenn?” Rennon asked. Tatrice put her hand on Dorenn’s forehead to check for fever.
“Something is wrong. I know we told Vesperin we would stay, but I have an overwhelming feeling we should leave.�
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“What’s wrong?” Tatrice asked with growing concern.
“I don’t know. I just know that we need to go.”
Rennon stood from the table. “That is more like it. I will go to the kitchen and see if I can get us some food for the trip. Brookhaven is not far away. We can be back in a day or two.”
Dorenn nodded. “Hurry, Rennon, we have to leave fast.”
“What about Vesperin?” Tatrice asked.
Dorenn rubbed his temple with his left hand. “He will find his way. I don’t think we will persuade him to come with us.”
“Dorenn, we can’t just leave him. He is your best friend,” Tatrice reminded him.
“What would you have me do, Tatrice? He will find his way.” Dorenn stood. “We will have to go on foot. The stable master would be suspicious if we tried to saddle any horses, and he would question us.”
“We have to take the horses, Dorenn, or we would be caught within a few hours’ time on foot,” Tatrice said. “We need a diversion.” She thought for a moment. “I think I can come up with something. Meet me at the stables as soon as you collect your things.”
Rennon returned a few moments later with a basket of bread and cheese. “This is all I could find without the cook eyeing me. It will have to do.”
Dorenn patted him on the back. “It will do. We will be home soon enough, it isn’t that far.”
“I will gather my things. You coming, Dorenn?” Rennon asked.
“I will be there in a moment,” Dorenn replied. Rennon acknowledged him and left the dining hall.
As soon as Tatrice and Rennon left the room, Dorenn removed the black leather pouch containing the stones from Cedar Falls from his belt and loosened the drawstring. He turned it upside down and let the three purple stones fall into his hand. They glowed intently and gave off heat.
“These stones will aid me in decisions.” Dorenn squeezed them tightly in his fist. He could feel the power of the stone’s energy enter his body. “Am I doing the right thing?” The stones began to burn his hand, but he did not flinch. Instead, he dropped the stones back into the pouch, drew the string tight, and fastened it back on his belt.
Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1) Page 23