by Sam Ferguson
“Then why stay?” Braun asked.
“Have you ever faced a warlock by yourself?” Gildrin asked. “I wanted to leave, but he cursed me. His spell bound me to this house. He cursed me so that if I were to leave the house so long as he lived, my heart would burst from inside.”
“So then why not kill him and end the curse?” Braun pressed.
“Believe me, I wanted to do just that,” Gildrin said. “The other part of the curse was that I could not raise my hand against him nor design a scheme to have him killed.” Gildrin sighed and shook his head. “I tried once, but as soon as I raised my mace and advanced, there was a horrible fire that encircled me. The flames burned my soul, but did not damage my body. After three days of unending fire, he released me from my punishment and warned me that the next time I tried to harm him he would leave me in that agony for a month.”
“I’m sorry,” Erik offered.
Gildrin nodded. “So, now that he is dead, what can I do for you?”
“We believe the warlock created a plan to assassinate Lord Lokton,” Braun said.
Gildrin frowned and wrinkled his nose. “Well, come in. I can take you to his chamber and show you where he would keep his secrets.”
Erik and Braun followed Gildrin into the house. The air was cold, and smelled of old leather and smoke. Large vases, sculptures, and trinkets adorned the corners and walls. Great, intricately woven rugs lay over the dark wooden floor, holding the large, plush couches and chairs in place.
“This makes Lokton Manor look like a stable,” Braun said.
Erik nodded.
Gildrin grinned. “It was once a lovely place, when my master was alive. The real Senator Bracken was born and raised here, as was his father, and his father before him. The house goes back for many generations of faithful servants to the kingdom.” A tear appeared in his right eye, but it did not fall. “If I can help restore this family’s honor by helping you, then that would make me the happiest man alive.”
“You loved your master then?” Braun asked.
Gildrin nodded. “I looked upon Senator Bracken as a dear uncle. He always treated me fairly, and he dealt honestly with others as far as I was aware.” He motioned for them to follow him to a grand staircase. “We are going up,” he said.
The stairs creaked and popped the way that old wooden stairs do but the sounds were muffled by a great purple runner held in place by brass bars bracketed into the inside corner of each step. The runner was faded and well worn, but still had years of life left in it. Erik ran his fingers over the smooth, brass bannister, marveling at the opulence.
“How could a senator afford all of this?” Erik asked.
Gildrin shrugged. “Aside from their salary, each senator has access to a wealth of information.”
“Not to mention connections forged through their power and authority,” Braun added. Erik recognized the disgust in Braun’s tone.
Gildrin shrugged it off and kept walking. “My master was not so bad, considering the company he kept. Much of what you see here is the combined efforts of generations, not merely one man’s accumulations.”
“How did the warlock choose him?” Erik asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know,” Gildrin replied. “As I said, I was away at the time.”
“You didn’t notice anything strange in the time leading up to it?” Braun inquired.
“No, I know it may not speak well of my skills as a guard, but I noticed nothing out of the ordinary.” Gildrin paused at the top of the stairs. He turned and held his right arm out, pointing down the hall. “This way is the bed chamber. However,” he pointed down the opposite hall. “This way leads to the old library. It is there I would look first, if I were you.”
“Actually the library is first on my list as well,” Erik said as he recalled Lady Arkyn’s words. “Are there any other servants?” Erik asked.
Gildrin frowned. “Not anymore,” he said. Braun pushed past them and walked toward the old library. His footsteps muffled by a red runner that spanned most of the hallway’s width. The trio stopped in front of the door as Gildrin fumbled through a large iron key ring. “I have a key here somewhere,” he said.
Erik scanned the door. It was plain enough, made of redwood and bearing only an engraved “B” in the top panel of the door. The brass knob was tarnished and dirty from years of use. Erik put a hand out to the door and used his power to scan the door. He was concerned that there may be some sort of magical trap.
Gildrin found the key and slid it into place. “Got it,” he said.
Erik snatched Gildrin by the wrist and yanked his hand back. “Wait!” He shoved the man aside and motioned for Braun to back away. “There is a magical trap on this door.”
“How can you tell?” Gildrin asked. “I have gone through this door many times, and nothing has ever happened before.”
“Did you ever enter while the warlock was away from the manor?” Braun asked.
“No, I only…” Gildrin closed his mouth as it dawned on him.
“He must have set it before he left the house,” Erik said. “I was scanning the door and everything seemed alright, but when you slid the key into the lock a green symbol appeared over the top panel of the door.”
“I don’t see anything,” Gildrin said.
“Still, I wouldn’t argue with Master Lepkin,” Braun said. “Can you get around it?”
Erik shook his head. “Without knowing what the spell is, I wouldn’t know how.” Erik thought hard. Though the others couldn’t see the symbol it was obvious that the spell was not any sort of illusion, he would have been able to dispel that. This was a different kind of spell. He had no way of knowing what might happen if they tried to open the door. Perhaps it would explode into flame, or freeze the trespasser’s hand to the door. No matter what the spell was, Erik had no way of disarming the trap.
“I bet this has to do with the other night,” Gildrin said after a moment.
“What happened the other night?” Erik asked.
“I saw a blonde woman kneeling at the door shortly after the imposter returned home from his travels.”
“Did you confront her?” Braun asked.
Gildrin shook his head. “My curse is that I cannot scheme against or kill the warlock.” He smiled slyly and gave them a wink. “I pretended not to notice and continued on toward the bedchamber. By the time I turned back, she was gone and the window at the end of the hall was slightly ajar.”
“Interesting,” Braun put in, stealing a glance at Erik. Erik nodded, but neither of them offered to tell Gildrin who had snuck in that night. “Is there another way in?” Braun asked.
Gildrin knit his brow and then snapped his fingers. “There is!” He motioned for the two of them to follow him to the next door in the hall. “This is one of the old guest chambers. Inside there is a dumbwaiter in the wall adjacent to the library. The dumbwaiter has a door in both rooms.”
“Wouldn’t he seal that too?” Erik asked skeptically.
Gildrin shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. “Senator Bracken liked books more than he liked the dumbwaiter, so several years ago he painted over the door in the library and put a bookshelf in front of it. I bet the warlock never knew it was there.”
Braun turned to Erik. “It’s worth a try, I suppose.”
Erik nodded in agreement. “Let me scan the area before we bust through, just in case.” The others nodded and Gildrin excitedly went through the door into the guest chamber. He walked straight to the wall opposite the large canopy bed and pulled on a brass ring. A wooden panel, just large enough for a man to squeeze through, opened with a puff of dust and a few stray cobwebs.
“This is it,” Gildrin said.
Erik rushed up to his side and peered in. “It looks safe,” Erik said.
“So do we try it?” Braun asked. The large man stopped short and turned to the canopy bed. “I have an idea.” He went to one of the thick wooden supports and hacked through it with a mighty chop of hi
s sword.
“What are you doing?” Gildrin shrieked.
“Your master is dead, so is mine. Let’s worry about avenging them, instead of fretting over furniture that no one uses anymore,” Braun shot back. Gildrin bristled, but shut his mouth as Braun finished ripping the support free of the bed. The canopy roof cracked and drooped low, but stayed up as Braun walked away. “Just in case there is some sort of trap, I can use this like a lance.”
“You sure?” Erik asked.
Braun shrugged. “I’ll wait a few moments for the two of you to get back a bit, just in case.”
Erik backpedaled to the window and then folded his arms, hoping he was right about the door being safe. Braun turned the support over in his hands, securing his grip and then he levelled it at the hole, aiming for the door to the library. Without a word he charged forward. The knobby end of the support crashed into the door on the other side. Braun ran through with ease, but was jerked to the side when his makeshift battering ram slammed into the bookshelf beyond the door. The wooden support bent and then exploded in the middle, sending wood chips all about the room and tumbling Braun forward at the sudden lack of resistance. Braun managed to catch himself by planting his forearm on the wall just before going into the dumbwaiter.
He backed out with a sly grin on his face. “No explosions,” he teased.
Erik nodded and moved quickly into position. He could see light coming in around the massive bookshelf. Only a few bits of the door clung to the hinges. The rest was gone, obliterated by Braun. “Let’s grab the three remaining posts and all push together. That should move the bookshelf.”
“Already working on it,” Braun said. Erik turned to see the man pulling his sword and heading for the bed. “Gildrin, come hold the canopy,” he instructed. Erik jogged over to grab the other side of the canopy and Braun used accurate, short chops to remove the other posts. Once the job was done Gildrin and Erik tossed the canopy aside and each grabbed a post from Braun. The three of them then walked to the opening and placed their posts securely against the bookshelf.
“Try to push at the top,” Erik said.
“On three,” Braun said.
Erik nodded and started to count. “One, two, three!” They all pushed with steady pressure. At first nothing happened, but after a couple of moments the bookshelf started to tip and then it fell, crashing to the floor with a mighty whoosh! Books and wood skittered across the floor and dust flew up around the rubbage. Erik smiled. He dropped his post and scrambled through the tight opening.
“Be careful,” Gildrin said.
“Nothing to it,” Erik replied as he squeezed out the other side. He brushed off the wood splinters and looked around. His mouth dropped open and he stood in utter shock.
Braun was next through the opening. “By the gods,” he said as he stepped up beside Erik. They both turned to Gildrin. “Are you coming?” Braun asked.
Gildrin shook his head. “I have seen that room enough to last a lifetime,” he replied. “If there is anything to find, it will likely be in the old desk. He brought that with him.”
Erik turned. His eyes were first drawn to the tapestries. Each depicting horrendous scenes of carnage. One was a great beast devouring a maiden, another was a dragon drinking the blood of a decapitated minotaur, and others showed various demons delighting in torturing what Erik could only imagine were the souls of the dead.
“What makes a man choose to live like this?” Braun said as he picked up a human skull from a table. “Why would someone encircle themselves with death?”
“Power,” Gildrin answered from the other room.
Braun nodded solemnly and put the skull back on the table. “Power,” he repeated. He dusted off his hands and pointed to an old desk in the back of the room. “There it is.”
Erik pulled his eyes away from the tapestries and saw a great, flat desk with a tall hutch on the back. It wasn’t made from any kind of wood he recognized. It was solid black and filled with knots. Thorns and barbs stuck out from the legs and looked menacing enough to slice the unwary to pieces in an instant. Runes were put into the top of the desk, etched in and then inlaid with gold. Erik traced the shapes with his eyes only, afraid to touch them.
“What do they mean?” Braun asked.
Erik shook his head. “I have no idea.” He placed his hand under the front, where a drawer should have been, but he found nothing. He bent low and looked under the desk. “There are no drawers here.”
“Here,” Braun said as he reached for a door on the hutch. The door opened easily, revealing a few jars of powder amidst several multi-colored crystals. Braun fingered through the contents and shook his head. “Nothing here that will help us.”
Erik tried the door on the right side of the desktop hutch and found several large, leather bound books. He pulled one out and opened the cover.
“Are you sure you should open it?” Braun asked.
Erik shrugged. “I know the dangers of books better than most, but I doubt anything in this library will harm us without some sort of additional magic.”
“If he trapped the door, he might have laid traps on his things as well.”
Erik shook his head. “I don’t see any. I imagine the warlock was confident enough in his first trap that he saw no reason to add more.”
“Or perhaps these aren’t the things he was worried about keeping safe.” Braun nudged Erik and pointed to a silk blanket covering an object a few yards away. “With all of the hideous things in this room, what could the warlock possibly want to cover?”
From the high, oval shape Erik guessed it was a mirror. He watched Braun go to the object and slowly remove the sheet to discover a life-size portrait of a family. The woman had red hair, and was very fair to look upon. She held a baby in her arms, wrapped in a blue blanket. Behind the two of them stood a man, smiling and happy.
“The brass plate at the bottom is scratched out, I can’t read it,” Braun said.
“You don’t have to read it, Braun,” Erik replied. “Look at the man.”
Braun turned back to Erik and nodded. “It appears to be a portrait of the warlock,” he said. “Though, by the looks of it this was painted decades ago.”
Erik paused. “He had a family once,” he said. He looked at the picture, studying the man’s smiling face. He looked so happy and peaceful. What could have changed? Erik turned back to the shelf with the books and noticed a ray of light glinting off of something in the back. He removed the other books and piled them on the desk. As he pulled the last book from the cubby, he saw that there was a brass lever in the back. He reached in and depressed it. A drawer popped out two inches from the side of the desk.
“What have you got there?” Braun asked.
Erik shrugged and gently pulled the drawer out to its fullest extent. Inside he found a handful of letters, tied into a bundle with old, red ribbon. He picked the letters up and turned them over in his hand. It was then that he realized it wasn’t simply a red ribbon, it was part of a necklace. A small, star-shaped pendant hung from the bottom. Erik gently undid the necklace and placed it on the desk.
“Who are the letters from?” Braun asked as he walked up to stand near the desk.
Erik took the top letter and handed a few to Braun. He quickly scanned through the fading ink, careful not to rip the old paper. “Are you sure he brought this desk with him?” Erik shouted over his back to Gildrin.
“As sure as you are standing here today, he brought that desk with him,” Gildrin replied.
“I don’t think these will help us,” Braun said after finishing another letter. He tossed the stack back to the desk. “Old love letters are not going to find the assassin.”
“No, perhaps not,” Erik agreed. He set his letter down and picked up the bottom letter in the stack. “This one appears to be the most recent, according to the dates on the letters,” Erik said.
“I’m going to look around,” Braun said as he went for a knotty black bookshelf.
Erik read th
rough the letter. “This one is different,” Erik said.
“How can you tell?” Braun asked as he rummaged through a pair of black leather books.
“This is an official letter, from some governor.” Erik turned the letter over in his hand and inspected the broken, crumbling wax seal. “It reads; Esteemed Master Pemo, it is with great sadness that I pen this letter. It gives me no pleasure to inform you that your wife, Kyra, and your son, Baldwin, have been slain by a band of Tarthun raiders while you were away in service to me at the border. I blame no one but myself for this tragedy, as I should not have allowed your wife to remain on your homestead while you were away. Please, return from your duties at once and I will help you settle your family’s affairs. Sincerely, Governor Randal.”
“Governor Randal?” Braun asked. “I don’t think I have heard that name before.”
“I have,” Gildrin said from the other room.
Erik and Braun turned to look through the dumbwaiter, waiting for the explanation.
“It was probably twenty or thirty years ago now,” Gildrin said. “But I heard that Governor Randal was killed by a wizard that served in his court. Governor Randal had the duty of overseeing part of the border to the east and protecting the kingdom from Tarthun invaders. Some versions of the story say the wizard returned with an army of Tarthuns and wiped Governor Randal and his city from the map in one night. Another version says the wizard called upon the gods of Hammenfein to help him destroy Governor Randal. Others say the wizard returned at night and buried the city in a cloud of fire and lightning.”
“Do the stories say why the wizard did this?” Braun asked.
“That is the strange part,” Gildrin said. “All of the stories say that it was because Randal betrayed the wizard and took his wife.”