“We insist.”
Looking over his shoulder back up the bank, he saw additional Elves in the trees around them. He was clearly being funneled into this river. The idea of becoming a Master Thief suddenly seemed much less appealing.
Nothing left for it. “Well, ah, ok then. Into the water I go.” He stepped into the water, which appeared to come just above his waist, but in reality was nearly midway up his chest given the illusion of height cast from his magical shoes.
He looked around, finding the Elves were encircling him in the water. The strange markings on their arms began to glow, and the pebbles upon which they all stood seemed to also shine and blur. The riverbed began to stir.
“Take a deep breath.” Cherokum said, as he and the others began a modest chant, repeating a simple phrase over and over.
Confused and nervous, Trevor nevertheless obeyed. He took a massive gulp of air…and was sucked beneath the surface through a sinkhole that had opened up in the riverbed.
A second or two later, Trevor could stand back up. He opened his eyes to the most breathtaking castle he had ever seen in his life. Immediately, he hoped his hair was still dark, his teeth yellow, his eyes haggard, his face scarred, and his height intact. He could not take out a piece of polished glass. But he could look at his reflection in the water, wrenching his eyes from the magnificent structure that arose out of nowhere.
As the ripples faded, he made out the image of a tired-looking man with dark hair…
“Welcome to Thalanthalas, friend!” said Cherokum, slapping him on the back.
Xaro
Xaro stared at the raw brand on his upper left arm. He could have eased his pain with a simple spell, but he wouldn’t even think of it. He would let the flesh cool and scar over like every other True Warrior. He was fully True Mage, and fully True Warrior, and prided himself on the fact that his fighting skills hadn’t aided his climbing of the Staircase, nor had his magic aided in his Test in the fighting pits of Kekero. He allowed a private smile to leak across his face briefly as he studied the fabled brand.
A large oval, several inches in diameter, with three vertical lines inside basically constituted the brand. The puffing of the skin made it different than a tattoo; the details in the lines could be hard to make out from a distance. But it didn’t matter; everyone in Tenebrae knew the symbol of a True Warrior. The oval represented a shield. The three parallel, vertical lines, stacked shortest to longest, represented a dagger, a sword, and a spear. The meaning was obvious: as a True Warrior, I can fight you with anything.
Lord Kensington had branded Xaro a week ago in front of the cheering crowd of two thousand men. That was the next step in his plan, and it was a crucial one. He had needed a decisive showing in the pits if he was to lead these men. His goals were much larger than simply attaining status. Much larger.
Kuth-Cergor had returned. One of the ancient gods, a god with real power—not the man-made infatuations men worshipped today—had chosen Xaro. Spoken to him. Taught him how to conceal his magic. Answered prayers. No god answered prayers any more…they simply existed as figments of man’s anxiety in this Dark World. But Kuth-Cergor had existed long before man, and would exist long afterward. How fortunate am I to be singled out by a True god of the ancient world, that I should be alive during the age of Kuth-Cergor’s triumphant re-entry—and what’s more, that he should select me to rule at his side?
His instructions were simple…but not easy. Raising an army takes time. He couldn’t think of a better starting point than these fine men training in the pits. With more than two thousand swords, they would make excellent captains and lieutenants. Even better trainers and men-at-arms. The foot soldiers would require far greater numbers, but Kuth-Cergor had some ideas for him there as well.
It would not do to invoke the name of the demon-lord quite yet…too many still doubted that he even existed. And those that allowed for his existence were too ignorant to know his power. His name was not a motivating factor for the masses…yet.
Kuth-Cergor knew this; that is why he had selected Xaro to be his leader here on Tenebrae. The men who sought the mark of a True Warrior were mostly interested in mercenary work anyhow. Oh, he saw some nobility—he could almost smell the arrogance of some would-be knights. There was, however, a fighter that easily distinguished himself from the others. His name was Strongiron of the House Tuitio, and he was clearly one of the best Xaro had seen in the pits beside himself. The men loved Strongiron; he knew how to treat those weaker than himself with a measure of respect.
The other fighter that had caught his attention was a half-ogre named Tar-Tan. Both men were fighting for their mark this afternoon. Tar-Tan was pitted against a Chimera, a rare creature with two heads – one a lion, the other a goat, with the creature’s tail actually uncoiling into that of a lengthy, venomous snake. Strongiron was pitted against three men—the Steele brothers; Axel, Abel, and Arkin. If they defeated Strongiron, each of them would be allowed to battle for their True Warrior Test as soon as they were physically ready.
It was therefore with acute interest that Xaro watched from a balcony, next to Lord Kensington, as the top two warriors—besides Xaro, of course—were to fight for their brands. Tar-Tan was up first.
Even though Strongiron was enormous for a man, a full six-foot six inches tall—he was still two feet shorter than Tar-Tan. The half ogre was simply immense, and wielded a specially made halberd, heavier than most. For a man, a normal halberd operated like a long spear with an axe blade at one end; in other words, a two-handed weapon. This heavy halberd was wielded in one hand by the half-ogre, and his free hand typically held either a shield or, more commonly, a two-handed sword. With a sword for in-close fighting and his halberd for distance, he shattered the dreams of many would-be True Warriors during his training. His opponents couldn’t get near him.
And if one did manage to get near enough to Tar-Tan to strike a blow, he had dark, thick, rough skin that had a slight greenish tint, though it could hardly be seen, given the tattoos covering nearly his entire body. His half-ogre hide was better than most chain mail; it would take a point-blank shot from a longbow to penetrate it. He had excellent night vision, courtesy of his beady yellow eyes. His least attractive feature was the stringy grey hair he’d inherited from his ogre father; so he shaved his head clean.
It was Tar-Tan’s intelligence and aptitude for military strategy, however, which made him truly formidable. Xaro had watched the half-ogre during their lessons on battlefield tactics, and was impressed. This was not a slow-witted fighter who simply overpowered smaller men. He could lead an army.
And yet…if the half-ogre and Strongiron were ever to meet on the field of battle, Xaro’s gold would have been on Strongiron. He had heart…and warrior genes. If he lived through this final Test, he would be an invaluable ally. All three Steele brothers were very adept with swords, tridents, and spears. They had been fighting as a unit for years, and were a deadly trio in combat. The Chimera was fascinating, but frankly was an unintelligent beast. That foe was tailor-made for Tar-Tan to shine against. “I would rather face the cursed lion than deal with all three Steele brothers at once,” remarked Xaro to Lord Kensington.
“Hmmm. Perhaps.” The Lord just smiled, absently rubbing his hands together greedily. The fool profits from the gambling spawned of his pits. He will not profit forever.
Xaro would soon be identifying his lieutenants, and he wanted at least one of them to be a True Warrior. That would be his General in the days to come. Not only was Strongiron worthy, and not only did he have the admiration of the other fighters, but there were plenty of other reasons Xaro wanted him the most. Not the least of which was this: he was a royal subject in King Alomar’s and Queen Najalas’s court. Coming from a lineage of knights, Xaro reckoned it was only a matter of time and a few successful exploits before the King knighted Strongiron as well. By gaining Strongiron’s allegiance, Xaro would weaken the very kingdom he meant to attack in Kuth-Cergor’s name.
&nb
sp; Of course, Tar-Tan could be an effective general as well. But men will follow the half-ogre out of fear; they follow Strongiron as they follow me—out of admiration. Together, with an ancient god blessing our efforts and cursing our enemies, with the King and Queen weakened, and with the status and gold of House Tuitio behind our efforts—it would be an epic conquest and coronation. Xaro had made up his mind: if he lives, Strongiron is my first choice. He could not help but smile at the idea of using a would-be Knight to bring down the godless aristocracy and their arrogant, hypocritical knights.
Lord Kensington stood up, made a few remarks, and the large battle horn was blown to start the fight between Tar-Tan and the Chimera. The Chimera was chained to large iron rings fastened to the ground, one for each paw. The clasps were opened at the sound of the horn, and the goat head bleated while the lion snarled. The beast approached the half-ogre cautiously; it did not charge right at him.
“Har! Let us see what your hide is made of!” Tar-Tan shouted at the Chimera, slashing his wicked halberd in front of the lion’s head. It wasn’t a hard swing, just a swipe to gauge distance. The Chimera was out of range by inches, and counted on an off-balance foe. It swung a massive claw behind the half-ogre’s attack, hoping to push Tar-Tan to the ground.
The half-ogre was exceptionally quick for someone his size, and his technique was nearly flawless. Weight evenly distributed, he brought his sword across his body to deflect the claw coming his way. The steel bit into the foreleg of the Chimera, and it roared. Blood spurted out, and the wounded animal retreated.
“Come. Don’t back-up now, we’re just getting started!” Tar-Tan taunted, but he did not for one second raise his hands outside the fighting position. His two weapons were at the ready, and he took a step forward.
The snakehead hissed as the long tail flashed, wisely striking low, outside the easily defendable areas around the half-ogre’s torso. The snake darted in and sunk its fangs into Tar-Tan’s calf. The half-ogre laughed and swiped the entire tail off with one clean stroke of his sword, making the Chimera bellow with pain again as he left its head dangling from his leg.
“You miserable creature! Do you think your tiny fangs can even penetrate my hide?” Tar-Tan did not bend down to remove the twitching tail. Without taking his eyes off the Chimera, he carefully ran his sword across his calf, prying it off and flinging the tail back at the beast in the same, fluid motion.
Xaro leaned over to Lord Kensington. “I do hope you have a special branding iron for half-ogres.”
Lord Kensington flashed Xaro a haughty half-smile, his eyes never leaving the arena. “I’ve found you just hold the hot iron in place a little longer. I doubt highly the pain will bother him.”
The rest of the fight ended quickly. Tar-Tan began pressing forward, always to the left of the Chimera—the side with the hurt foreleg. Stabbing with his halberd, the beast couldn’t move quickly away from the attack. And moving to the right just put it within range of the sword. Eventually he pierced the shoulder, then the goat head, then the other foreleg. Carefully, with precision and patience, the half-ogre dissected the Chimera. Finally, exhausted and enraged beyond reason, with blood spilling out of several terrible wounds, the beast launched itself at Tar-Tan. Perhaps it had had enough and just wished to be impaled, for that’s exactly what happened. The Chimera charged right into the spike of the heavy halberd. Eight inches of metal drove into the exposed chest of the beast, with the full weight of the animal resting on the ax head at the end. Dying, the Chimera bleated and roared and frantically pawed the air with its front legs, trying to reach the half-ogre’s face to scratch out his eyes.
“Har!” yelled Tar-Tan. Dropping his sword, he grasped his halberd with both hands and lifted the beast into the air, muscles taut with the effort. “Arrrrrgh! You unintelligent animal! Die, and I shall have my Mark!” With a final strain he extended his arms, hoisting the Chimera well above his head, impaled on his weapon, blood slickening everything around him.
The Chimera slid further down, the top of the axe blade beginning to cut into its belly. The beast finally died, and Tar-Tan flung his carcass onto the hard, wet ground.
“Tar-Tan! Tar-Tan! Tar-Tan!” The shouts rang out from his fellow fighters in the pits of Kekero.
Xaro watched Lord Kensington get up to congratulate the impressive half-ogre. He turned his attention to Strongiron, where he saw one of the Steele brothers whispering something to him.
Magi
Magi and Kyle ducked into A Port In the Storm, a different alehouse several blocks away. “Apt name.” Magi nodded to Kyle as they went straight to the barkeep. A little silver was exchanged, and they were soon in their room away from ears and eyes, where they could talk freely.
Magi shut the door and sat on the straw bed in the corner. “We need to get out of the city. I think we should buy some horses and get back to Brigg as soon as we can. It cannot be a coincidence that someone has killed both Lionel and Sindar.” He picked his head up and looked directly at Kyle. He is holding up well. “If we are to ride out of here, you know what that means.”
Kyle looked at Magi. “We left most of the money back with Sindar. We’d have to go back to the room.” He didn’t look like he was real fond of that idea. “I dunno, Magi. Why do you think someone killed them?”
“I’m not sure. I suspect to rob them—Lionel did say that people get killed for horseshoes in a city the size of Gaust. If we can get to the body, we can determine whether the money was the motivation. Or, rather, we’ll know if our money sack was left untouched that money was not the main motivation. I suppose it’s possible someone would kill Sindar for one reason and rob him as well. But if our gold is still there, we’ll know this was something other than a robbery, but more importantly, we’ll be able to buy horses to get out of here quickly. I don’t think walking back is a good idea.”
“I wish we knew how to Teleport,” Kyle whined. “But yeah, I kind of doubt someone just wanted to rob Sindar and Lionel, especially since whoever killed Lionel didn’t bother to take anything from him. That Manny guy—the fish peddler—he knew we were going to the Great Library. He could have done it.”
“Maybe. But Lionel’s death bothers me. I can’t figure that out. Who kills someone, leaves bystanders, and takes nothing? What’s more, he was killed without a sound. He did not want to be seen, and he did not want to be heard. When I cast the spell of protection, I did pick up that he was running on soft feet—he was gone before I could get a good bead on him. Leaving the library, for sure. My guess is that the Keeper of Books and that annoying assistant of his didn’t know there was a murderer in their precious library. It won’t be long for them to wake up and find the bodies. I don’t know how frequent killings are in this town, but given the scene with Manny and the guards, I imagine Lord Corovant’s guards will soon be able to put Sindar and Lionel’s murders together. They may even accuse us. We need to get our gold, get some horses, and get out before someone places us in the group and hauls us off to Lord Corovant’s court.”
Kyle considered Magi’s thoughts. “Yeah, I hadn’t noticed that, probably because I was caught off guard. I mean, Lionel was right next to me, I turned my head, and I see a blur and his body falling. I go to catch it and the killer was gone. But you’re right, Lionel never made a sound.”
“Kyle,” Magi lowered his voice and fixed his best friend with a steely gaze. “We have to consider that someone or some group is after all four of us, and that we’re next.” But why?
“Why would anyone want to kill us? We’re just a couple of students!” Kyle was starting to lose it again.
“Calm down…I don’t know. I’d say it had something to do with the Scroll, but it was right there on the table. When they killed Lionel, it wouldn’t have been hard to kill us right then and there and take the Scroll. It just doesn’t make sense.” He began twisting his ring around and around and around.
“Speaking of the Scroll, why’d you take it? I thought you were dead-set against that,” as
ked Kyle pointedly.
“I—actually, I’m not sure. I just knew that I hadn’t finished my copy and we needed to run, so I took it. I’ll send it back once I’ve got Marik’s copy made. Right now, ‘borrowing’ it is the least of our concerns.” Magi remarked. “We need to refresh our minds with the best spells we know, find our gold, and I also plan on finishing the copy of the scroll I started.”
Kyle just nodded. Magi took out his quill and started copying. He copied in silence for a couple hours as a sense of dread began to build inside him. Magi couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. For the first time he began to consider that the land itself was broken. We talk about a Dark World; I always thought that meant tough or difficult. But it’s more than that. It’s a Dark World because it’s filled with Dark People; who else would do this to Lionel, and why?
Trevor
The sunlight sparkled on the brightly colored pebbles on the bottom of the riverbed that became shallower as they approached the hillside leading up to Thalanthalas. The air was still heavy with the scent of Hawthorne, although some other woodsy smells permeated the senses. Cedar, and berries, thought Trevor. He was extremely hungry.
“These pebbles—what are they? I’ve never seen anything like them,” Trevor said, walking alongside Cherokum. “They look like gemstones.”
“So they do, to foreigners. When you live and work in the forest and streams as we have for centuries uncounted, it is easy for us to discount the beauty of this place sometimes.” Cherokum paused and reached down into the crystal clear water they were wading through, now less than a foot deep. He picked up a large purple pebble. “The illusion that guards our great castle is woven into these pebbles. Many an intruder has become mesmerized by these gemstones as they look for the Elven capital. Imagine their surprise when they leave the forest with a bag full of gemstones only to find that they have scooped up common pebbles when they seek to trade them in the outside world. No one uninvited has ever discovered our fortress, and I daresay none ever will.” He smiled and tossed the purple-looking gemstone into the clear water. “Come. Let us refresh ourselves.”
In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) Page 8