by Tiger Hebert
“Marvelous, aren’t they?” said Duroc. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. The dream carried on, and the king’s voice continued, “I visited them all. I only saw small glimpses of most, but I saw... I touched them all. I had even chosen a few potential worlds to be our new home, if it ever came to that. I had everything I thought I’d ever need to protect my people, but I was wrong.”
Tension and grief filled the king’s voice as he detailed the fate of his kingdom. “They called it Duroc’s Bane. That hell-borne sickness returned once more, and it came with a mind for vengeance. That living plague hated that I had driven it from my people, so it returned to finish the job. The sickness was a swarm of locusts devouring my people. Fortunately, the insufferable disease moved at a crawl, but the mortality rate had become absolute. Once again, my people were dying. I used all the tricks that the magics afforded me, but I wasn’t strong enough to save them. I needed more help, so I created servants to aid me.”
Theros stirred in the night, but he was held fast in his sleep as the king’s tale reached its end.
“It worked, by Bafingbauld’s beard, it worked. We destroyed that demon of a disease, we did, but it was too late. Many of my people had died, many of our children... gone. There was only one hope left, I had to find a way to open the third and final gate. I had to pierce the veil between the realms, passing into the place where only angels and demons dare walk. I had to walk the barrows beyond the living, where the dead rest... and I did. I found the power to bring back that which had been stolen. I found the power to steal life back from death,” he shared.
Necromancy. Even in his sleep, he felt the chills run down his spine.
“I sought a fifth stone to complete my power, to allow me to restore that which had been stolen. See, I knew how to steal life, but I had yet to unlock the power to give it. However, there were some who grew jealous and perhaps even fearful. They wanted the knowledge for themselves. The Rhazesh Council proclaimed their service to humanity as those who preserve the balance. Then they came into my halls and tried to kill me and steal my power. Propaganda! They are traitors of the highest kind, mage killers who are mages themselves,” said Duroc, his voice almost turning into a growl.
“What happened?” asked Theros as he finally broke his silence.
The edge in Duroc’s voice softened momentarily. “I summoned my people to me. I began opening a gateway for them to escape through, as I faced the council. There was no reasoning with them; they had not come for parley, but for seizure. I needed to buy time for the evacuation. I defended against their assaults, but they were relentless in their aggression. I called upon my creations, my children, and they defended me.”
Images of chaos and battle filled the orc’s mind. An army of dwarves made of stone and magic defended their king against the cabal of ruthless mages and their savage use of the magics. Rank after rank, the stone golems were decimated by the chaotic blasts of power. Fragments of stone rained down, but Duroc’s army surged forward. By sheer force of numbers, the dwarves overtook the sorcerers of the Rhazesh Council in brutal fashion, pummeling them with fists of stone.
“The Rhazesh Council had been defeated, but not before casting one final spell. With their dying breaths, they left me bound in this prison. Unable to live, unable to die,” lamented Duroc.
“And your people?” asked Theros.
“I stopped what I could, but such reckless use of the magics is dangerous. Most of my people were destroyed by their careless attacks. If they wanted me, they should have taken me,” snarled Duroc. “But no, they had to kill and kill and kill.”
The image of scattered corpses littered the streets and the palace grounds. Dwarves, young and old, were cut down by wicked magic. The bodies, charred and scarred, numbered in the thousands.
“Some would say I got revenge. They’re wrong. You can’t get revenge for something like that. Revenge is no balm or salve that can heals wounds,” said Duroc bitterly.
The visions faded to black and only the voice of the king remained.
“Theros, you are the only one that could help me. I can make this right, all of it. I can give life to my people... and to your brother.”
“Ogron cannot be helped now...” said Theros, his voice cracking even in his dream.
“No one is beyond helping when you can reach beyond the grave,” replied Duroc. “Free me from my prison, and you shall see your brother again.”
There in that blackened void between dreams and the waking world, the dream ended and Theros slept.
13
Keepers of the Flame
The voices and the Qarii are one and the same! It has been telling me its name, because I have been chosen. The Qarii has called me by name! The Qarii has found me worthy and wants to entrust its secrets to me. It told me of a book titled Ascendance. It is a text of hidden truths. It appears that there are only a few surviving copies of the text left in the world today. Many have been burned out of fear and superstition. The ignorance! Who would destroy such knowledge?
The whispers told me that all of the protected copies are back in the old world. It did not reveal all their locations, but it did point me to one that is tucked away safely in a small city named Torminos. Truthfully, it was not a name I was familiar with, so I had to do some research. Upon studying maps of the old world, I realized that Torminos was a desert city that was in the deep south, even beyond the great human city of Shavrimah. In my studies I discovered that not only was the city tucked far away from the great dwarven kingdoms of the east, but that it was actually a Togari city. I should have immediately realized it by the name, but I didn’t think their civilizations existed anymore.
I only remembered a little about the Togari peoples from the studies in my youth. The Togari were a widely viewed as a lesser race by the greater races of Antirri. The various races of elves, dwarves, and humans generally thought little of the peaceful, if not passive people. The Togari were even considered an abomination by some, and at least cursed by most, due to the nature of their physical bodies. Though I have never seen one myself, the texts say that they were some sort of misbegotten human off-breed. They were bipedal and possessed a basic human appearance in shape and size, but their serpentine eyes and patches of golden reptilian scales gave them an ill-favored look, a look that suggested that some foul transformation had begun, only to remain unfinished. Their disturbing appearance, combined with their minor if not non-existent significance in matters of commerce, politics, and military might, meant that the story of the Togari never appealed to me much back then. Oh, the foolishness of youth.
From the personal journal of Duroc Stonebrow
THE MORNING CAME AND went as usual. Nal’drin woke early and prepared a quick breakfast for the group. Then they broke camp. Everyone refilled their waterskins one more time with fresh water from the falls, then they departed the cavern.
It didn’t take long for them to climb this side tunnel and reach the main thoroughfare. Once they reached the juncture, they turned to the right and followed the roadway to the city. They were surprised by how close they actually were. They had only been walking about an hour when the tunnel ended and they were finally able to emerge from its confines.
They stepped out of the tunnel into a cavernous expanse that seemed to have no end. Then in the distance, hundreds of yards away, loomed a grand city rising before them like a great stone mountain. The gleaming and glimmering city of Duroc’s Refuge was bathed in the blue light of thousands, tens of thousands, of brightly glowing crystals.
Dom wasted no time in finding the nearest brazier and setting it ablaze. The quickly rising flames cast their light a great distance, but it barely touched the grand city that loomed in the distance. Theros looked around to see if there was another brazier to light, and to his satisfaction, he found one on their left, directly opposite the other one. Theros used his torch to set it ablaze, illuminating the other side of the area where they stood. That is when they realized that they weren’t
just standing in the middle of a road, but that they were actually on a bridge.
They didn’t appear to be in any danger. The bridge was huge. It was thirty yards wide and stretched out at least a hundred yards as it spanned the unlit chasm below.
“I can’t help but marvel at the stonework in this place,” remarked Sharka with awe.
“Wait until we actually get a look at that,” said Dom, proudly pointing towards the towering city.
“Just look at this place though, the whole place is amazing. The sheer size of this cavern alone is hard to fathom. Did they carve all this out?” asked Nal’drin.
Dom smiled and answered, “No, fortunately not. It all started out as mines. They were mostly narrow exploratory shafts. However, when the expedition ventured further underground, they found some massive expanses like this one. Sure they expanded on a lot of them, but a great deal of these caverns where already here to some extent.”
“It is a wonder that the whole mountain doesn’t just fall in,” Nal’drin mused.
Kiriana gave him a playful jab in his bruised shoulder and said, “Don’t give it any ideas.”
“Ow! Cut it out.”
“All right, children,” rumbled Theros with a glare. “Let’s stay focused.”
This part of the ruins was indeed remarkable. The massive stone bridge stretched across a great empty darkness below. With the minimal lighting below, it was impossible to guess what the depths might be, but it was safe to say that going down would be a one-way trip. So despite the bridge’s solid construction, the team wasted no time in crossing the divide.
The blocky structure of the stone city slowly became more detailed as they drew closer. A formidable defensive wall, which appeared to offer only a single gate, reached out around the city’s many buildings. Beyond the defensive wall, the buildings on the city’s perimeter rose much higher than one might expect, the tallest of which being three and four stories in some cases.
“I don’t get it. Why is it so large for such a small population?” asked Kiriana.
“I’ve no idea my dear,” admitted Dominar.
I’ve got my suspicions, thought Theros.
The five reached the end of the bridge and moved toward the city with excitement. That is when things finally started to draw into focus. The once grand city was in ruins. Dozens of the buildings scattered throughout the city bore the scars of war. Some buildings were riddled with holes, others were missing their roofs if not entire floors, and blackened char marks marred them all. As they drew close to the perimeter wall and the main gate, they found that it had been blown open, leaving one of the great wooden doors splintered and charred.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Dom.
It was a rhetorical question. Not because he didn’t want an answer, but because he didn’t expect anyone to have it.
“War,” answered Theros, to their surprise.
Everyone stopped in their tracks and gave you the orc concerned looks.
Theros ignored their looks, instead keeping his eyes on the ravaged city before him. “The Rhazesh Council did this.”
“Theros, are you speculating or—”
“No. Duroc’s knowledge of the arcane and his power had grown tremendously. He was on the verge of a breakthrough that would change everything. The Rhazesh Council came—”
“To stop him!” said Dom.
Theros frowned. “To steal it.”
“Wait, what?” asked Nal’drin.
Theros rubbed his nose. “They wanted to eliminate him as a threat, but they wanted the knowledge, the power, for themselves. Duroc tried to evacuate his people, but as the Rhazesh attacked, most of the dwarves died. Duroc was able to defeat the council, but not before a final spell was cast. The spell did not kill him, but left him trapped in a magical prison.”
“How could you possibly know this?” asked Kiriana.
“Because Duroc’s been talking to him,” answered Dominar.
“What?”
“How?”
“When?”
The chorus of demanding, and borderline accusatory, questions came in rapid-fire succession.
Theros looked each of his companions in the eyes. “Duroc has reached out to me a few times. I was awake for a few of them, but one was just last night as I slept. He spoke to me during one of my dreams, and he filled my mind with visions of what happened down here.”
“What does he want?” demanded Kiriana.
“Help.”
“What does he want help with?” prodded the redhead.
“He wants us to free him from his prison.”
“And we should just trust him? He’s a sorcerer!” shouted Nal’drin.
“I don’t know,” admitted Theros. “But so far, everything he’s told me has been true.”
“I think it’s a trap,” bristled Nal’drin.
Kiriana crossed her arms. “What if he’s lying? He admitted he was powerful and that’s why he got locked up. I’m not about to go down in history as one of the idiots who set a murderous sorcerer free.”
Dom nodded.
Theros replied, “You’re right. He could be lying, but I don’t think so. I don’t fully know why; call it a hunch.”
“Well, I’m not about to destroy the world or die on a hunch. So figure it out, big guy,” snapped Nal’drin.
Dom lifted his hands. “Alright, you two, settle down. We’re all in this thing together, and we’re still collecting information. Let’s get inside the city and see if the evidence matches Duroc’s story.”
Theros nodded, and turned back toward the ruined city.
Even looking beyond the damages, the gate and wall were not all that impressive, surprisingly. Yes, they were formed with skillful craftsmanship, but their design was very basic and would offer little defensive advantage on a typical battlefield. The design didn’t need to be elaborate though, with this location though. The gates were only a dozen or so yards away from the spot where the plateau ended and the bridge began. While it did present some room for would-be attackers to try to gather around the main gate, it left little to no room around the rest of the perimeter. Instead, that wall curved away towards the plateau’s edges. No one was going to surround this city, at least not from outside those walls. Were anyone or anything to penetrate these defenses, they had to come right through the front door. Just as the Rhazesh Council had.
The section of the wall where the large wooden gates had once stood was rather impressive. The gate stood at ten yards in height, and the walls were reinforced with additional stone buttresses every few yards. The doors, of which only one remained intact, were made of an old, curious wood. The almost unnatural striations in the grain told them that it wasn’t a common wood, at least not one found in Darnisi. It wasn’t oak or ash or even ironwood, it was something else altogether.
As they passed through the gates, Sharka swept her hand over the smooth polished surface of the heavy door. She brushed the thick layer of dust away from her palm, and leaned closer to inspect the wood. Kiriana held the torch closer, illuminating the golden-red hues of the richly stained wood.
“What kind do you think it is?” Kiriana asked.
Sharka did not respond at first, she just studied the streaked markings in the wood. She turned to Kiriana and said, “I believe it is karabusa wood.” Then she turned to Theros and asked, “Do you still have that axe?”
Theros reached for the pack behind him and pulled the crude hand axe free. He shifted it in his grasp, then extended the haft toward her.
“What are you doing?” asked Kiriana.
Sharka simply replied with, “You might want to back up.”
The female orc turned to the door’s edge and swung the hatchet at an angle. After a few swings, she had notched a nice little crevice, exposing the unfinished wood. She lowered the axe and leaned forward, pressing her nose against the wood. She gradually inhaled through her nostrils, then she smiled. Sharka turned to Kiriana and said, “Definitely karabusa.”
> “How can you be so certain?” Nal’drin asked.
“It smells like coffee,” she said with a smile.
“What is coffee?” asked Kiriana.
“It is a hot drink made from these little beans.”
“It’s good?” asked Dominar.
Sharka shrugged, “I think it smells better than it tastes, but people are crazy about the stuff.”
Nal’drin furrowed his brow. “So how do you know about this coffee and this karabossy wood?”
“Karabusa. A long time ago, back when merchants actually visited Karthusa, I worked in the docks for a time. There was one ship in particular that always traded in exotic goods. Apparently the captain had somehow managed to get an exclusive rights contract to trade those rare goods there. One summer, he delivered a few large shipments of karabusa wood. I found the smell to be absolutely intoxicating. He found that amusing. So on his final shipment of the season, he brought me a supply of coffee beans from the far eastern jungles. He said it was a gift, and he taught me how to brew it,” shared Sharka, her smile growing as she took another smell of the exposed wood.
“What was this charming captain’s name?” asked Kiriana.
“Edgar Ponterossi, captain of the Crimson Dawn,” said Sharka.
“Sounds like he was sweet on you,” interjected Nal’drin.
Sharka just laughed, rejecting the notion. Theros tried to act as if he didn’t care either way.
Kiriana piped up. “So you’re telling us that you flirted with one of the most notorious pirates in history, the legendary Captain Edgar Ponterossi?”
Sharka blushed, “Oh no, I just worked the docks. But I wasn’t about to turn down free coffee.”
“It smells that good, eh?” asked Kiriana.
“Smell for yourself,” gushed Sharka before inhaling another deep breath of the wood’s coffee like aroma.