by A. Giannetti
“That was a foolish thing to do,” said Tullius disapprovingly. “At the time, I did not think so,” said Elerian quietly. “The venetor’s spells had failed to defeat me, and once I spilled its blood, the creature seemed to fear my knives. I was certain that if I could catch it, I could slay it. The chase was long. Although the venetor seemed unable to outrun me, neither was I able to close with it again. At the time, I believed that the creature was running in a panic, but in fact, it was leading me into a trap. Deep in the Abercius on a spur of the Panteras, the venetor suddenly vanished inside a great oak tree through a magical door.
“Cautiously, I followed it underground. Luckily, my third eye revealed where it lay in wait for me. We fought once more in a large underground chamber, where a battle appeared to have taken place at some time in the distant past, for the floor was littered with the remains of weapons, bones, and armor. The venetor now proved to be a far deadlier foe than I first believed. You were right to say that its powers were greater than my own,” admitted Elerian to Tullius. “My knives were useless against it, and I would have died there, I think, in that chamber beneath the earth, but by chance, I found a broken spear on the floor by my feet with which to defend myself. The spearhead was shaped like a beach leaf, and there were silver lines inlaid in the steel resembling the veins of a leaf. At the touch of my hand, they began to gleam as if lit from within.” Elerian fell silent for a moment, pausing to sip his wine as he recalled the look of the glowing lines embedded in the tarnished spearhead.
“What happened after you found the spear?” asked Tullius, breaking into his thoughts. The old mage was leaning forward in his eagerness to hear the rest of the story.
“The sight of the spear seemed to enrage the venetor, as if it roused some sleeping memory of a battle fought long ago. It flew at me, and I thrust the spear into the creature’s chest. The lines in the spearhead burned like white fire as I held it off with the spear. After its futile attempt to reach me, the venetor began to weaken. I was also becoming weaker, for the spear continually drew power away from me. I was not certain for a time which of us would expire first.”
“The silver inlay in the spearhead must have been argentum,” said Tullius wisely. “The making of it is a closely held secret of the Dwarves, but sometimes they will sell the finished metal to others not of their race for the right price. It has a strong affinity for magic, and like rowan, it will channel a mage’s power but, at a price. If the enchantment laid on the argentum is a powerful one, it will draw power from the mage until the spell is complete or the mage is dead, whichever comes first. What happened then?”
“As I held the venetor at bay with the spear shaft, it suddenly spoke to me. The creature claimed to have destroyed the former inhabitants of the underground dwelling in which we had fought. Realizing for the first time that the venetor was not an animal, I asked him who he was, and he told me his name was Drusus. He said that I had kept him from his reward and cursed me. Before I could question him further, he died from the wound dealt him by the spear. When I pulled the spear away from him, the head was eaten away, destroyed by Drusus’ blood, which steamed and hissed, destroying all that it touched. Both my knives were also destroyed,” said Elerian regretfully.
“I would have liked to have seen the spear,” said Tullius, “but perhaps it is just as well that it was destroyed. Anything crafted with argentum can be dangerous, especially to mortals.”
“I never suffered any ill-effects from using my ring,” said Elerian without thinking.
Tullius’s glance went at once to Elerian’s left hand and the silver ring that he wore. “Why do you think your ring is made of argentum?” asked Tullius curiously.
Elerian had always kept his ring’s power a secret, but he realized that there was no longer any reason to do so. “My ring creates an illusion without the bother of casting a spell,” said Elerian. “I got it from the Goblins’ cave at the same time that Balbus obtained his magic purse.”
“You never mentioned this before,” said Tullius sharply.
“I was afraid you or Balbus might not allow me to keep it if you knew its powers,” said Elerian honestly.
“Nor would we have,” said Tullius reprovingly. “Such things are trinkets for their makers, but in other hands they can be dangerous or even deadly. Let me see it please.”
Without hesitation, Elerian took off the ring and gave it to Tullius. He had not used it in a very long time, for he was well able to cast his own spells and illusions now. Tullius examined the ring carefully as it lay in the palm of his right hand.
“There is no mark on it,” said Elerian helpfully.
A half smile quirked Tullius’s bearded lips. He held up the ring between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and said, “Revelare,” in a firm voice. At once, a series of finely scripted, gleaming letters appeared around the polished outer rim of the ring. “Eirian script,” said Tullius. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice or in his eyes as he took in Elerian’s surprised look. It pleased Tullius that he was able to show his onetime apprentice that there were still things he did not know about the magical arts. “All is not as it seems,” he read slowly. “I, Dymiter, made this ring.”
Tullius handed the ring back to Elerian. The newly revealed letters were already fading. “Dymiter was a famous Elven mage,” he continued. “He is thought to have died during the Great War. This ring may have been part of the plunder the Goblins took when they sacked Fimbria. It appears to be blend of silver and some argentum. A plaything for its maker, but deadly dangerous to any mortal who discovers its secret and uses it overmuch.”
“I seldom used it,” said Elerian, replacing the ring on his finger. “Perhaps that is why it never harmed me.”
Thinking Elerian’s tale was done, Tullius started to rise from his chair, but Elerian said soberly, “Wait, Tullius, there is more to tell. After my struggle with Drusus, overcome with weariness, I sank down to the floor next to his body. I thought my troubles were over, but as I sat there, trying to make sense of Drusus’ words, I saw a red shade suddenly rise up from his body. It leapt on me, and I felt that, somehow, it was trying to wrest control of my body away from me. I fought it off, and it finally vanished.” Elerian fell silent for a moment as he recalled that unnerving struggle with Drusus’ shade.
“I have heard,” said Tullius uneasily, “that a powerful shade can linger on for a time, even after the body dies. Eventually with nothing to sustain it, the shade will fade, but there are those who refuse to accept this fate. They become wraiths who prey on the living to prolong their shadowy existence. Lacking the strength to take over a body by force, they seek out those who are asleep or dying and steal the life force they need to survive. In his last moments, Drusus must have decided to possess your body for his own or perish in the attempt. When you resisted him, however, the struggle diminished his life force until his shade finally expired.
“Hopefully, he has left this world forever,” said Elerian. “In any case, when I recovered somewhat, I became curious to discover whether Drusus had told me the truth about himself. I cast a shape-changing spell over his body and beheld a tall, old man with white hair, and black, hate filled eyes lying on the ground. His face bore a great resemblance to that of Urbanus. I buried his body in the forest and set out for home, but I had so many questions running through my mind that I decided to stop and speak with you first.” Elerian ended his story and waited expectantly for Tullius’s reaction to his strange tale.
Tullius, who had hung on every word of Elerian’s story, leaned back and gave Elerian a thoughtful look. He felt a newfound respect for his onetime apprentice, but he gave no indication of it when he spoke.
“Although you appear to have come out of this adventure unscathed, you took on a great risk in confronting this creature alone,” he said reprovingly. “I hope it has taught you not to take such risks in the future. You might not be lucky enough to find a magical spear under your foot next time you are in trou
ble.”
“I have already admitted that I am lucky to be alive,” said Elerian, accepting the scolding with good grace. “Will you answer some of my questions now?”
“If I can,” said Tullius testily. “I am only a simple country mage, not a great lore Master.”
“Where to begin then?” wondered Elerian aloud, as he stared into the fire and mulled over the questions in his mind. “Let me start with Drusus,” he said finally. “To my eyes, he resembled an Ancharian after he resumed his natural form? Was there any mage among those people who went by the name of Drusus?”
“There was one,” said Tullius. “He was a powerful mage who allied himself with the Goblins before the Great War.”
“Why would any man ally himself with such evil creatures?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice.
“In order to answer that question, I must give you a little history first,” said Tullius with a humorous glint in his dark eyes. From previous experience, he knew that Elerian had little interest in the distant past.
Inwardly, Elerian groaned. He was tired and had no appetite for hearing about events that had taken place long before he was born, but it seemed that he had no choice if he was to learn more about Drusus.
“I will listen if I must,” he said reluctantly.
After a long drink of wine to lubricate his throat, Tullius began speaking. “The events which led to Drusus’ treachery toward human kind were set in motion when the first Goblins appeared west of the Murus at the beginning of the third age.”
“What do you mean by appeared?” asked Elerian, forgetting his dislike of history for a moment. “Surely they did not materialize out of thin air.”
“They may have,” said Tullius seriously. “When I posed the same question to Urbanus in my youth, he supposed they might have come from outside through a gate.”
“Which outside and what kind of gate?” asked Elerian, feeling even more confused. An image suddenly popped into his head of a wooden gate swinging open to reveal hordes of Goblins clustered behind it.
“Have you already forgotten the lessons I taught you as an apprentice?” asked Tullius with a frown.
Elerian cast his memory back to his early lessons and suddenly remembered a discussion about his spell book during which Tullius had talked about the existence of other realms besides their own. “You are talking about a magical gate,” he said with a flash of understanding.
“Of course I am,” said Tullius. “Now try to keep quiet. I shall never finish this story if you ask a question every time I take a breath.” Tullius took another sip of wine to settle himself and began again. “At first all of the Goblins were of only one kind. They called themselves Mordi. Although they were smaller than men, they were very quick and strong. Unfortunately, they possessed a cruel temperament and a taste for the flesh of two legged creatures, which soon led them into all sorts of mischief. As they grew more numerous, they began scattered raids against the Elves and the Dwarves who already lived in the West of the Middle Realm. Later, when the first men appeared, they also became the object of raids by the Mordi.
Elerian was tempted to ask where the men had come from, but a warning glance from Tullius’s dark eyes kept him silent. “Perhaps they came through a gate too,” he thought to himself.
“At first,” continued Tullius, the Mordi were weak and disorganized, for they were divided into different bands led by chiefs who hated each other. They were little more than a dangerous nuisance, forced to keep to the mountains and other wild places in order to survive. Things changed for the worse in the middle of the Third Age when the first Urucs appeared among the Mordi. They looked like Goblins, but they were man sized. Many of them had strong magical powers, which the Mordi mostly lacked. Most remarkable of all, they did not age like the Mordi, who grow old and die like men. The years pass them by, but whether they are long lived like the Dwarves or immortal like the Elves is not known. These Urucs were few in number, but they succeeded in joining all of the Mordi together with the intention of conquering all of the lands west of the Murus. A long war began that did not end until the beginning of the Fourth Age when the power of the Urucs was finally broken by a great alliance of Elves, Dwarves, and Men. The few Goblins who survived went into hiding, and there was peace for a time.
“Many of the Elves had grown weary of war by then and used this time of peace to leave the Middle Realm. They sailed west over the sea in their white boats and did not return. Those that did not wish to leave the Middle Realm journeyed south and east over the Murus, leaving behind their ancient homes in the West. They were accompanied by many Dwarves, who also wished to seek out a new home. The Elves settled in Fimbria where they lived under the rule of Fenius, the last Elf king to reign in the Middle Realm. The Dwarves settled farther east in their mountain kingdom of Iulius.
“There was peace for many years until the remnants of the Goblins secretly crossed over the Murus and established themselves in the land of Nefandus under the rule of a powerful Uruc named Torquatus. He was a cruel and subtle Goblin, already centuries old, and under his guidance, the Goblins grew again in power and numbers. Torquatus wished to resume the Goblins’ war of conquest against the people of the Middle Realm, but Fimbria stood squarely in the path of his armies. All his attempts to send spies into that that land to learn its secrets were thwarted by a magical shield that surrounded that whole country. No Goblin who entered Fimbria ever returned to make any report to Torquatus.
“Frustrated in his efforts to destroy the Elves, Torquatus eventually sought allies among the Ancharians, a race of men who settled the rich lands north of Hesperia and east of Fimbria in the middle of the Fourth Age. Many among them were powerful mages who possessed great power and knowledge, for in the beginning of their realm, the Ancharians sought out the Elves and learned many of their secrets.
“When emissaries from Torquatus first appeared among the Ancharians, they were well received, for these messengers from Nefandus had the look of tall, handsome lords. They appeared to be a fair, well-spoken people, and they quickly gained the confidence of the Ancharians. When they deemed the time was ripe, these emissaries began to ask the Ancharians why the Elves had denied the secret of immortality to such a worthy people. Why must they, who were so great and powerful, finally pass away while the Elves lived on in their immortal existence?
“Many Ancharians were troubled by this question. The desire for immortal life began to gnaw away at them, and many came to feel they had been ill served by the Elves. When the messengers of Torquatus promised immortality to any Ancharian who joined them in an alliance against the Elves, they found many willing to accept their offer. Among them was a powerful mage named Drusus.”
“So, he sold his allegiance to gain immortality,” said Elerian.
“Yes,” said Tullius. “The fear of death has led men down strange paths, some of them very evil. After Drusus joined the Goblins, he was signaled out by Torquatus for special attention, for he had made a long study of the ring lore of the Elves. Torquatus flattered Drusus with soft words and persuaded him to use his knowledge to help him make a weapon that would breach the magical shield that protected Fimbria. Using their combined powers, Torquatus and Drusus created a ring that increased the mage powers of the one who wore it.
“After the ring was made and all his preparations for war completed, Torquatus persuaded the Ancharians to attack the Dwarves and the Tarsi. Spurred on by the promise of immortality, the Ancharians won battle after battle by force of arms and magic. The Dwarves finally appealed to Fenius and his Elves for aid. Leaving his people secure behind the shield that protected their land, Fenius crossed the Gavius with a great force of Elves and a bitter war was fought in Ancharia. Instead of coming to the aid of his new allies, however, Torquatus attacked Fimbria. Using his newly made ring, he breached the magical shield that kept that land safe. Even as the combined armies of Men, Elves, and Dwarves finally triumphed over the Ancharians, smoke rose from the burning groves of Fimbria, so thick and r
ising so high that it was visible across the Mare. The Elves flew back to the defense of their homeland, outstripping their allies, who followed more slowly.
“When the armies of the Dwarves and Tarsi arrived at the borders of Fimbria, they were unable to enter into it, for all the land was burning with a red fire that could not be quenched. When the fires finally died, they crossed the Gavius to find a ruined, empty land. There was no sign of either any Goblins or Elves. All were thought to have perished in the flames that had destroyed Fimbria, Drusus among them. Even supposing the Dwarves were wrong about Drusus’ death, however, I do not see how he could be the venetor. If he was the same Drusus you slew, he would have been almost two centuries old by now.”
“Perhaps, after granting Drusus immortality, Torquatus changed him into a beast and charged him with a task,” speculated Elerian. “Drusus spoke of being denied a reward before he died.”
“It would certainly explain a great many things that have occurred in the last eighteen years,” said Tullius with a thoughtful on his face. “Let us suppose for a moment that Balbus has been right all this time, and I have been wrong. He has always believed that some Elves survived the destruction of Fimbria and hid themselves deep in the Abercius. Drusus could have been ordered by Torquatus to search for them. Twenty years ago, he must have finally tracked them down after which he led an attack on their hidden home. Somehow, you escaped him. Two lupins then tracked you as you fled south through the forest until you met Balbus and Carbo, who slew the lupins. The Goblins who survived the battle also tracked you, but because of Balbus’s trick with your tunic, they became convinced you were dead, although they continued to search for a time. Drusus, who must have aided the Goblins, was not deceived by the deception with the shirt, for he followed you to Balbus’s farm, but he, too, was thrown off the scent when I changed your shape. There must have been some falling out, then, between him and the Goblins. I think now that he was the prey they hunted on that last night before they left our land for good. With his one time allies turned against him, Drusus must have gone into hiding until recently, when he appeared once more here in his old haunts. It all fits neatly together,” said Tullius, his voice filled with the satisfaction of one who has finally solved a puzzling mystery.