“Please continue, Adam,” Thomas said.
Adam continued with the story of their travels, their encounter with Omen and Cathandra and the chilling final chapter of the giant spider.
“Adam, thank you for an interesting tale. I have several more questions, but they are of little significance. We can discuss them in detail later.”
“Please, Thomas? What can you tell us about the medallion, the curse and what we can do about its power?”
* * * *
“You came here to the Library asking about Gnorepenne. We’ll start there.”
Thomas picked up his cup and took a long swallow of the now tepid tea and replaced the empty cup on his desk. He stood and began to pace the small office, his robes trailing behind him as he began his history of Gnorepenne and the medallion.
“When I first entered the tall wooden gates of Gnorepenne, it was already a city of chaos and danger. It was chaotic in the amount of activity going on all around you, and danger? I remember almost being run down by a wagon hauling timber to somewhere in the lands. I’d just stepped through the gates and was almost killed by a madman and his team of horses. That’s how it was in the beginning. A town that was moving at a pace usually not seen in the Northern Lands, but there it was.
“It took several seasons for me to become accustomed to the level of activity. Eventually I settled in and contacted several of my colleagues, mages like myself, who had been commissioned to begin a Guild in the Northern Lands. Do I blame myself for setting the wheels in motion for the danger we face today? No, the activities of men are not like a single-spoked wheel, rather, they are as an infinite number of spokes, branching one off of another, and the first spoke knows not where the last one lies.
“Gnorepenne proved to be a hub for travelers as well as commerce and soon the small group was commissioned the Guild of the Silver Dagger and grew from the four original members to a group of forty members. We soon created a council of elders to provide guidance and leadership to the other members. The council was seven members strong and I was appointed as one of the original members. Two years passed and one of the elders named Belos Romas was murdered by bandits while returning from a meeting in a neighboring town. Soon after, a new mage named Kurilan began to inquire after the empty seat vacated by the murdered Romas. Council members were voted into their seats for life, and Kurilan began a series of secret negotiations. I’m sure now that money changed hands to gain the necessary votes to be appointed to the council.
“For five seasons after Kurilan joined the elders nothing remarkable happened. Then, during the sixth season, a series of bad judgments resulted in the deaths of three prominent and wealthy citizens and an independent panel of judges tied their deaths directly back to the Guild, the Elder Council and finally to Kurilan. He was taken away in chains and thrown into Blackrock Prison, where he stayed a year before being released. When he returned, he was a changed man. His hands were misshapen from repeatedly being broken, his back and left shoulder were scarred from burns and he limped from a knife wound to his thigh. Viewing those physical scars, as hideous as they were, were nothing compared to the look of his eyes. When you looked into those eyes, you didn’t see life or humanity in them. Just a cold, dark shine reflecting back at you.
“After what he’d been through at the hands of the judges hoping to assert their power, an exception was made and the most senior member of the council stepped down from his position and Kurilan was once again on the council of elders. May the gods preserve us, he was back on the council.
* * * *
Jennifer lay on her side, moaning softly, the wooden bowl which contained her meal was overturned and its contents scattered over the floor. She slowly pushed herself up, clutched her stomach with both arms and rocked back and forth for almost an hour before a guard appeared outside her cell’s bars.
“Quiet down in there. I would have you die, but the Master has plans for you,” came the low, gravelly voice in the shadows.
Jennifer’s moaning slowed and was replaced by a long string of coughs, each sounding raspier than the last. Finally, there was a pause and the cell was quiet again.
“Good. Nothing serious,” the guard said and turned to leave.
The quiet was broken by the sound of Jennifer retching up what little food she’d been able to eat. Quickly, she doubled over again and threw up a thin green ooze of bile onto the stone slabs. Her body jerked with each contraction and then she lay still.
“Gods. Don’t die on me, the Master will turn me into…” the guard muttered and he fumbled with a small ring of keys, trying one after another until he found the right one. The door’s hinges screeched as the cell door was yanked open and the stout guard darted through and pulled it closed after himself. The latch clicked closed. He pulled a thick rod from his belt and wrapped his hand around the carved grip.
Stepping closer to the inert form, he held his club out in front of him. When he was close enough he jabbed his prisoner twice in the ribs hard enough to jar her body, but she didn’t respond. He inched closer, and squinted in the darkness at her form to see if she was breathing.
“No...No...No,” he whispered. Stepping to the cell door, he cast a long look down one end of the tunnel and then the other.
He was alone.
Slipping the wooden rod back through the loop on his belt, he hurried back to Jennifer and knelt down near her body.
The cell was silent except for the sound of his labored breathing. He wiped the sweat from his brow and reached to turn Jennifer over when the quiet was broken by a single ‘Tink’ sound of stone against metal. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the sound and saw nothing but the cell door.
Suddenly, he was gasping and fighting for breath. He clawed at his throat with both hands as he felt something cutting off his breath, digging into his throat. He tried to wrestle away from what was holding him back, but the loop around his throat was too strong. Dark spots appeared before his eyes. His limbs felt heavy and a feeling of fatigue swept through his body. He continued to claw at his throat, but only half-heartedly now, the fight out of his body. Moments later the darkness overtook him and his body slumped to one side.
* * * *
Jennifer held the cloth strap she made from the lining of the new dress she modeled for Kyle countless days ago. She tore narrow strips of cloth, wove them together and knotted the makeshift rope to increase its strength. When she was convinced the gnome was dead, she released one end of the rope and watched his lifeless body roll to the stone floor.
Contempt was what she felt for the vile creature… not pity, so it was with some surprise that she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She rifled through his pockets looking for the key to the cell and anything else of use to her.
She finally found the key and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. She pulled the small stone she’d hidden in her pocket and flicked it away with her thumb, as she’d done with its partner as a distraction. She tied the cloth garrote around her waist. Through this belt she slipped the small dagger she liberated from the fallen guard.
She dragged the guard to the edge of the hay she used for bedding, wrestled him onto his side and covered him with the threadbare blanket she was given several days after she was thrown in the cell. She stepped back to admire her work and smiled. He was visible enough to fool anyone looking in that it was their prisoner sleeping, and no reason to raise the alarm.
She unlocked the cell door and stepped into the tunnel beyond.
Chapter Seventeen
Thomas leaned back in his worn chair which looked as old as the man sitting in it.
“With Kurilan back on the council, things began to change in the Guild. On matters that had previously been taken to a vote, now Kurilan stepped forward and took responsibility and decided their outcome. He browbeat the elders and the general members of the Guild into a quiet submission. Some were lazy and were eager to be relieved of the responsibilities. Others were intimidated into giving up t
heir power and the final small lot simply bid farewell and moved on.
“I didn’t like the way the Guild was turning, but the consolidating of power behind Kurilan was swift and absolute. Of the six remaining members of the elder council, only one beside myself would stand up against Kurilan. His resolve faded when his home was broken into, his wife killed and he was given a message by the killer.”
“What was the message?” Adam asked.
“That, he never told me. The next day he resigned his position and burned his house to the ground, with his dead wife inside. When all that was left was a pile of glowing embers, he turned and walked north into the Gnore Woods and disappeared. I have not heard from him since, and I don’t think I will before my end of days. I expect we’ll be seeing one another on the other side.”
Thomas paused for several long moments, looking into the fire. Delas and Adam kept quiet and waited for him to continue. Soon enough, Thomas gave a big nod, and continued.
“With six members on the council, I was pushing to appoint a new member, but Kurilan would have nothing to do with it. He argued that the council would run more effectively with fewer members and with the other members under his thumb, there was no descent, other than my own. The council continued with six members until,” Thomas paused with a sigh, “we led to Gnorepenne being destroyed.”
“What? The Council? My father told me Gnorepenne was razed by fire and overrun by barbarians from the far North,” Adam said, his face painted in disbelief.
“That story is the one most told. It is a story of convenience. A story that doesn’t place the blame where it should lie, but places it on the shoulders of an unseen enemy…the northern armies of the barbarians. The truth is that Gnorepenne was burned by the citizens of Gnorepenne themselves. It could be viewed as an accident or as a blessing from one of the angry Gods, as punishment for the unspeakable acts that the citizens allowed to happen under their watch.”
Thomas refilled his cup from the kettle hanging near the fire. He offered the tea again, and this time Delas accepted and Thomas handed her a steaming cup. Thomas sat back down and continued his story.
“The destruction of Gnorepenne came later. I don’t want to skim over the most important part, and the part that most affects you, me and the future of man in these lands, if not the lands beyond. It all changed when plague came to some of the farms surrounding Gnorepenne.”
* * * *
Kyle and Legan walked for hours in silence, the sun beating down on their backs. Kyle kept his silence as they stopped several times, scouting out overhangs and large rock formations for shade. They walked next to one another and Kyle could see Legan steal glances out of the corner of his eye.
“We should talk,” Legan said when they finally found a suitable area and stopped to rest. He sat down on the ground and leaned against a sandstone rock facing Kyle.
“Talk? What do we need to talk about?” Kyle said squatting down on his haunches.
“Amber and what happened at the ship. You’re a leader Kyle, don’t act like this.”
Kyle stood up and eyed the dwarf. He could feel his anger rising but carefully kept it in check. He knew anger could make this escalate and Legan delivered death in battle. He started slowly pacing back and forth in front of Legan, alternating between looking at him and looking at the ground at his feet. On one pass, he drew his sword and held it at his side as he continued to walk.
“You let her die. She could identify where we needed to go, and you let her die.”
“Kyle, you have it wrong.” Legan said, keeping his eye on Kyle’s sword as he spoke. “She was caught in the decking of the ship. The sand was pouring in from all sides. I tried to get her free, but it was useless. I would have had to cut her arm off, but she sent me away.”
“She sent you away. Just like that?” Kyle’s voice had an edge to it.
“Yes, just like that. Do you think I wanted to leave her down there?” Legan closed his hand into a fist and shook it at Kyle. “I think she knew she couldn’t get free and didn’t want me to get trapped down there with her.”
“Then you should have cut her arm off. At least she would have been alive. She could have led us to Jennifer.” Kyle spit the words out. The sword at Kyle’s side moved as his fingers tightened around the grip.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. She was trapped up to her shoulder. I would have had to cut here,” Legan pointed near his collarbone, “and she would have bled to death. With her death, we still wouldn’t have the path to Jennifer. We’ll find her. We’ll find the way.”
“You don’t know that. Your maps can only take us so far, you said so yourself. I’m going to lose the girl I love, because you let Amber convince you to leave.” Kyle could feel the remnants of patience slipping away.
“Kyle…”
Kyle leaped toward his friend and his short sword flashed in the sun as it started on a downward arc toward Legan.
Legan didn’t move as the blade of the short sword cleared the side of his head and crashed into the loose gravel at his side. He slowly turned his head to the now-still weapon and sat wide-eyed and speechless.
Kyle’s blade cleaved the head from a poisonous viper that had taken refuge from the sun in the shade beneath the rock Legan had rested against.
“Close your mouth, you’re starting to draw flies,” Kyle said.
* * * *
Legan consciously noted that, yes, his mouth was hanging open, due in no small part from a mixture of surprise and astonishment at Kyle’s sword handling. The boy was becoming a man.
He wanted to say something, perhaps smooth things over, but felt it might be better to let Kyle move at his own pace.
Kyle stepped to the side of the rock and slipped the tip of his sword under the lifeless body of the snake and flung it away. He sheathed his weapon, stood in front of Legan and eyed him. “So do you really think we’ll find her?” he finally asked.
Legan climbed to his feet. “Yes I do.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
Kyle offered his hand to Legan and helped him to his feet. He clasped Legan on the shoulder and the two continued forward across the steaming wastes at an easy pace.
There is more to this man than meets the eye. We may get to confront Kurilan after all. Legan supposed.
* * * *
“A plague swept through the area surrounding Gnorepenne. The city was closed off and no one was allowed to enter or leave. Fortunately, everyone was spared in the city, and the plague burned itself out. After a suitable period of time, the gates to the city were reopened and things returned to normal. That was when Kurilan stepped forward and presented the idea that the Guild should change the type of magic that had been studied and in which we were disciplined. To help the city and its people, Kurilan suggested…no, demanded…we begin the study of the dark magics. He wanted the Guild to begin studying the principals behind the creation of life and the hastening of death. He essentially wanted us to become gods.”
“Gods.” Thomas repeated slowly, and then let out a weak, humorless laugh. “The ironic thing is it almost worked for Kurilan and myself.”
“What do you mean, it almost worked?”
“Young lad. Gnorepenne was destroyed almost two hundred and fifty years ago. I was there.”
There was a long silence in the room as the obvious was finally brought out into the light of day.
“How-how is that possible?”
Delas said, “With magic, all things…”
“Are possible. Sometimes unintentionally so,” Thomas said. “Adam, the use of magic is really the harnessing of energy and manipulating it through the power of the mind to make it work for us. That’s why you won’t find a dim-witted mage. They cannot focus and channel the thought process to collect and control the energy.”
Adam nodded.
“So when Kurilan suggested the change to the dark magics, the council decided while the membership would continue with their studies and usage of the est
ablished arts, the six members of the council would do the exploration of this new direction.
“We began our studies and it quickly became apparent that Kurilan had been studying the black magics on his own for quite some time. We experimented with small animals, drawing the life from them, killing them. Believe me, between studying, we had long, heated discussions lasting for hours at a stretch. Calling what we had discussions is being kind to their memories. They were arguments that usually broke down into screaming matches threatening to break up the guild. The moral and ethical divisions in the group, even at the experimental level of our studies, was quite divisive.
“The day the council split was memorable for me, because I remember it was the day the argument changed in an instant. It changed from the ethics of taking of life to the reintroduction of life to the dead. This new fold had even more significant consequences and that is what drove the pitch of the argument even higher, and left the council with only three members by days end.
“It was the day we brought the rabbit back to life.” Thomas said matter-of-factly. “Now, before we continue, is anyone hungry?” Thomas asked, and without waiting for a reply, said, “Of course you are.”
He pulled a fine-tipped quill and a small bottle of ink from their holders on his desk. He removed a small sheet of parchment from a draw and began scribbling something onto the paper. Seconds later, he finished and replaced the writing instruments. He folded the paper twice and put it onto a polished silver disc set into an ornately carved wooden holder. He waved a hand over the paper, as if dismissing it. It faded and then disappeared a second later, leaving behind a faint trace of dust on the disc’s surface. Thomas pulled a cloth from his pocket and began to polish the silver until it was clean once again.
“I’ve never understood why it does that,” he said absently, and after a long pause, “I’ve ordered food for us from the kitchen, and it should be here shortly.”
Thomas put the wooden holder back on the edge of the desk and returned the cloth back to his pocket.
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