The Third Sign

by Scott D. Muller

  Sheila lifted her head from the ground and looked up aghast at Dra’kor, who was still standing. “Bow!” she said angrily.

  Dra’kor’s brows rose as he questioned her. “What?”

  “Bow!” she said, hoarsely, nodding with her head toward the ground.

  Dra’kor pulled his head back, “Are you kidding me?”

  She reached up with her left hand and yanked on his pant leg, forcing him to a knee.

  Dra’kor pushed her back, “Are you crazy?”

  Sheila looked at him as if he was stupid. “It’s Toulereau.”

  “What?”

  “Tou-le-reau ...”

  Dra’kor looked up into the elf’s eyes and saw a hint of amusement. He looked back at Sheila, “The Toulereau?”

  The elf stepped forward, slid his scimitar into his belt and extended his hand, noticing the Querd medallion hanging from Dra’kor’s neck. “Well met mage. No need to kneel.”

  Dra’kor’s face turned red as he took his hand and was surprised at the iron grip.

  “Do you have a name, mage?”

  Dra’kor coughed. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Dra’kor, Dra’kor Dunstanburgh, second son of Thomas.”

  Toulereau smiled. “Any relation to the family of Dunstanburghs of Northumberland?”

  Dra’kor bowed slightly. “My father was the Earl of Embleton.”

  “Ah! I remember him. That was a long time ago.”

  Dra’kor returned a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve been in the Keep for well over six-hundred years. I’m afraid I have ... lost touch with my family.”

  “You come from a proud family. I was sorry to hear that your father’s castle fell during the War of Roses. It was an unsettling time for all of us. I believe your brother’s son, Rune was King at the time.”

  Dra’kor’s jaw fell open, “Brother’s son? It did? What War of the Roses?”

  Toulereau smirked. “That time is well past now. It was a squabble over the throne. Seems your race enjoys a good tiff every now and then over bloodline and heir to the throne. I just wish they wouldn’t drag the entire region into it with them. It’s messy and leads to instability.”

  “I had no idea ...”

  Toulereau smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry; I believe your family made their escape before the main armies arrived. I’m afraid they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Thank you sir,” Dra’kor said, slipping into his noble training like it was second nature.

  Toulereau rolled his eyes. “Can’t say where they ended up. I can’t keep track of the monarchies and politics. I don’t have the stomach for it.”

  By now, Sheila had gained her feet and brushed off her leather pants. She looked down and saw that her vest was still undone. Embarrassed, she turned and feigned interest in something down the hall as she tried to cover up the fact that she was buttoning the buttons on her vest. She hoped she hadn’t made a spectacle of herself. Dra’kor noticed and thought it was funny to see her acting modest and shy. Toulereau seemed as if he could care less and was busy bringing Dra’kor up to speed on what little history he knew of his family.

  Sheila finished and stepped alongside Dra’kor and listened in. The conversation quickly ended with Toulereau moving forward and giving Sheila a warm embrace, causing her to blush. “Good to see you daughter of Shar’ran El’ror. How is my brother—your father doing?”

  Sheila lowered her head. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen my father in over two centuries, my Lord. I suppose he is well.”

  Toulereau snorted. “Yes, I suppose he is a busy man. Is your mother well?

  “Mom is fine, thank you, Sire! Although I fear she will be headed here if we do not return by tonight.”

  “Ah! Now, enough of this Lord business. My name is Trey. Please use it.”

  He turned to Dra’kor. “You are a long way from home, mage. What brings you out of the Keep?”

  Dra’kor decided to tell the truth. “Ja’tar sent us.”

  Toulereau raised a single brow. “Did he now? Strange of him to care after all these centuries.”

  Dra’kor was taken aback. “I don’t understand?”

  “You don’t understand what?”

  “Ja’tar has been following the rules of the Guild.”

  Toulereau was indignant, “What do you mean? Ja’tar pulled all the wizards from the realms. I assumed he had lost interest in the world and was letting us fend for ourselves.”

  “I didn’t know we were missing. We thought we were following the rules of the Guild. They are the ones who are telling us to stay out of the affairs of the world. We were just following their rules.”

  Toulereau rubbed his chin and grunted softly, letting Dra’kor’s story sink in.

  “If it weren’t for Ja’tar, we wouldn’t be here. He was concerned that something was afoot in the realms. We lost our last watcher to a demon, through an orb. He lost his own sister in that attack.”

  Toulereau’s eyes widened and his lip quivered imperceptibly, but he said nothing.

  “I don’t think Ja’tar knows we’ve ... how did you word it ... gone missing. Ja’tar thinks that the Guild is still ordering him to stay hidden in the Keep. He just met with them before we left and they refused him our quest. We’re here because he is violating a direct order. We’re breaking the Guild’s rules. He fears the Zola’far.”

  The expression on Toulereau’s face told Dra’kor all he needed to know.

  The elf’s eyes were intense, and Dra’kor could see the veins in his neck pulse. Toulereau shook his head in disbelief. “We should talk.”

  By the time Dra’kor finished his explanation, Toulereau understood the situation. It seemed there was more than enough confusion for all. Dra’kor tried his best to answer all the questions he could, but since he wasn’t part of the inner circle, all he could do is provide snippets that he had heard or overheard. For the most part, Toulereau was satisfied with the answers.

  “So, you are telling me that Ja’tar still believes that the Guild exists.”

  “He does. Every month he reports in to the Guild, or somebody he believes is the Guild and gives his status. I’m pretty sure he said that Shar’ran still moderates.”

  Toulereau shook his head. “Impossible! And you say that all the wizards still talk to this beast of Ror, this Zylliac?”

  “They do. I didn’t learn about the old magic until I reached Three Rivers and Hagra confronted me with the truth. Me and my friend Men’ak have been trying to learn to control the old magic, but I’m afraid we can’t do much! We’ve been focusing on the Life spell, just in case the totems close. Hagra told us that the Ten designed them to control the wizards. We always thought they were used to control the demons.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have much time then. If the demons, and or Dark Magi are making their move, it is imperative that we get out and notify Ja’tar and the Keep.”

  “I can’t agree more. It will take them time to learn the old magic. I have been practicing for a couple of weeks and I still can barely make a Life Spell. Only a handful of wizards from the days of Ror are left. Ja’tar, Zedd’aki, Rua’tor, Qu’entza, Collin, the dwarf—Hammergrip, and maybe Brink, the apothecary. All the rest came after Ror, just like me.”

  Toulereau shook his head in disbelief. The situation was dire.

  Dra’kor looked Trey in the eyes. “Can you tell us what happened here?”

  Toulereau pulled out a strip of jerky and ripped off a bite. “Well, I can tell you that things have not been right around here for a while.”

  The three sat down on the floor near the fire. Toulereau continued. “First there were the crop failures, those were in early spring. Then the wolven and skree showed up and began killing people. The town of Three Rivers built a wall. They had a garrison there, but still lost a lot of men erecting that wall. I thought I had gained the upper hand when the garrison from Three Rivers arrived, but we lost all the ground after three days of fighting
when the soldiers began to change.”

  Toulereau handed a piece of jerky to Dra’kor. Dra’kor tore off a bite-full and passed the rest to Sheila.

  “Change? You mean into Olc’Corryns?”

  Toulereau nodded. “And into rage-filled beasts too. They started killing each other and praising some unknown deity they called the Master.”

  “Sheila and I have been fighting catomen, wolven and skree for weeks. I also found dark magic poisoning the fields.”

  Toulereau listened intently. “I suspected that was the case, but my magic was not sufficient to sense or correct it. We elves have magic, but it is of the earth. It is different from the magic you wizards use.”

  “So I have heard from Sheila. I’ll try to correct things, if we ever get out of here,” Dra’kor offered. “So, after the soldiers changed, then what?”

  “Everything changed for the worse when the storm came. The lightning wasn’t of this world. Everything it touched was poisoned. The men turned on each other, and on me. I fought them off, but there were too many. I ran in here and hid in a secret room in the lower levels. I was lucky they didn’t find me.”

  “How long have you been in here?” Sheila asked.

  “I’ve been hiding in those tunnels for almost nine days. I heard you talking yesterday, but was hesitant to check. I heard you again this morning and came up to investigate. I thought it was safe since you weren’t talking in demon.”

  “Is there a way out from the tunnels?”

  Toulereau paused in reflection, a giant grin filling his face. “There is, but it is unpleasant.”

  “How unpleasant?” Sheila asked.

  Toulereau laughed, “We would need to wade through the sewer.”

  Dra’kor scrunched up his face, “I suppose it’s better than dying.”

  “Did I mention the sewers are filled with giant rats?

  Sheila looked up white as a ghost. “Rats?”

  Dra’kor chuckled and poked her in the ribs, “You’re not afraid of rats are you.”

  Sheila swallowed hard and bit her lip. “ No, but I don’t like them.”

  Toulereau stood and headed toward the larder. “We should eat first, no telling how long it will take us to find our way.”

  “Find our way? I thought this was your castle. You don’t know the way out.”

  Toulereau shrugged, “It is my castle, that is true, but I don’t spend much time in the sewer ... privilege of rank. I do, however, have an idea of how to get out.”

  Dra’kor snorted. Sheila gave him a sour look.

  “Will it work?” Dra’kor asked.

  Trey ignored the question, stood, and left Sheila and Dra’kor sitting on the floor. He jogged toward the larder. “I’ll grab us something to eat.”

  “I’ll join you,” Dra’kor said, quickly standing and taking off after the elf.

  “When they got to the larder, Dra’kor shut the door. “We need to talk.”

  Trey looked up into his eyes and saw the serious expression on his face. “So, talk!”

  Dra’kor lowered his voice, “I’m worried about Sheila. She is acting afraid. It’s not like her to give up and be so fearful. She seems to be falling apart little by little. For some reason these men and monsters are getting under her skin.”

  Trey grunted. “Many of the woodsmen do that; fall apart when they’re in unfamiliar surroundings. She hasn’t spent much time in the city. There are no trees to climb or caves to run to when you are here. You need to be strong for her.”

  Dra’kor stared at his feet. “I’m not sure I know how!”

  Trey grabbed him by the collar. “It’s what leaders do. Just think about what your dad would do.”

  Dra’kor confessed, “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

  “You need to inspire confidence, stay positive. Remember, if you fall apart, she will too.”

  Dra’kor put on a brave face.

  In a few minutes, Trey and Dra’kor returned with armloads of bread, cheese and dried meats. He dumped them onto the blanket. “Well, let’s eat up!”

  The three adventurers sat in silence, eating the bread and cheese, tearing off chunks of sausage and washing it all down with wine.

  “Take it easy on the wine,” Trey urged. “It is elven, and packs a strong kick!”

  Dra’kor remembered a time when he had partaken more than he should and he pushed the bottle toward the others.

  When they had finished, Trey split the remaining supplies into equal-sized piles and tossed a wine skin to each. “We should take some with us, just in case we have to stay below longer than we plan.”

  All three wrapped their supplies carefully and packed them tightly into their knapsacks. Dra’kor rolled his in the oilcloth he had from the Keep. Sheila and Toulereau just wrapped theirs loosely with the cheesecloth they had found in the pantry before placing the packages into the bottom of their packs.

  Sheila stood. “I guess we’re ready. Do we leave now or later?”

  Toulereau stood up next and tossed his pack over his shoulders, feeing his hands. “We should go while we still have daylight.”

  Dra’kor reluctantly stood, ‘You lead, Toulereau.”

  Trey started down the hall and stopped near a stone wall. He moved his hand along the wall searching for the key stone. Finding the stone that was slightly thicker, he pushed a single stone into the wall and pushed hard with his shoulder. The wall broke cleanly and opened wide enough for them to enter. The space was dimly lit by a single torch mounted in an old sconce on the wall. Toulereau let Dra’kor and Sheila enter first, and then he slid into the confined hall and pushed the wall back into place. He set a lever that was off to the side of the door into a slot and checked to make sure it was secure.

  “Best to leave it sealed in case we need to return. None will be able to enter, even if they find the key stone.”

  Dra’kor and Sheila waited for him to take the lead. There was barely enough room for him to squeeze by.

  “What is that smell?” Sheila asked, as her eyes watered.

  “That ... would be the sewer,” Trey answered back over his shoulder, “Follow me! Watch your heads; it’s tight in places.”

  They walked quickly down a series of narrow halls, weaving left and right until they came to the end, where the hall opened into a small room. A blanket, fire and a pile of supplies sat on the ground. “Here is where I spent the last few days ...” Toulereau mumbled.

  “How did you stand the smell?” Sheila asked, mostly to herself.

  They had run out of path and all that lay in front of them was the murky filth of the sewer. The silence was broken by the occasional squeak and the sound of dripping water.

  “By the gods!” Sheila said, feeling bile rising in her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth and turned to one side trying to keep from heaving.

  Toulereau laughed. “Try to breathe through your mouth.”

  Sheila looked down at the waste. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Toulereau sneered, “Why are you complaining?”

  Sheila starred at him blankly.

  He stepped in front of her and stared up into her face. “I’m the short one.”

  Dra’kor cleared his throat and stepped off the ledge and down the ramp into the filth. The water was cold and quickly soaked through his shoes. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The others watched while he waded out into the sewer. “See! It’s not so bad.”

  He took another step and discovered that the sewer was deeper than he thought. He held his pack over his head and walked slowly, step by step avoiding splashing. Soon, all they could see was his shoulders and head.

  “Come on,” he shouted gasping for air, “Let’s get on with this.”

  Sheila looked at the dark brown foul liquid and nearly gagged. She was next to step in and quickly waded out to where Dra’kor stood waiting, refusing to look down. She stared at the ceiling, where tree roots and moss clung. She tried brushing the cobwebs away usin
g her pack, waving it wildly in front of her face. Stray strands brushed her lips and face, causing her to tremble in disgust.

  Trey was next. Toulereau tilted his head backwards when the slop reached the bottom of his chin. “Stop splashing damn it! I don’t feel like eating this shit!”

  Dra’kor cackled to himself.

  “You find this funny?”

  Dra’kor snorted. “I actually do, sire!”

  Toulereau stared at Dra’kor, who was unsuccessfully trying to suppress a grin, but failed miserably and burst out laughing. Toulereau looked on and joined in laughing out loud.

  “Remind me to raise the wages of those I employ!” he roared.

  Sheila scowled, “I can’t understand how you amusing. It’s disgusting!”

  “It most certainly is!” Dra’kor looked at Toulereau with tears in his eyes, and nearly choked trying to keep from laughing. Toulereau was laughing so hard he was gasping for air. Every time he gasped, his mouth would dip under the surface, causing him to sputter and spit.

  Toulereau got himself under control and with an uneasy voice cackled, “Follow me.”

  Toulereau waved the torch high above his head as he wove his way down the tunnels, looking for a way out.

  Sheila screamed as a well-fed rat ran in front of her, scurrying across the top of the filth, hopping from chunk to chunk. “I hate rats!”

  Toulereau turned to see what the commotion was just in time to see a rat drop from the roof onto Sheila’s head. It squeaked and scampered down her back, but not before biting her sharply on her neck.

  She spun, screamed, reached down into the filth, drew her sword and after three swats, impaled the rat. She flipped it to the wall where it made a greasy splat sound before it fell into the mire and sank out of sight. Dra’kor stared at her with a smirk on his face.

  She threw her nose into the air. “What?”

  Dra’kor shook his head and turned to follow the elf, who rolled his eyes and winked at Dra’kor. The makeshift torch didn’t provide much light, and the further they ventured, the more closed off the tunnel became as roots and the partially collapsed roof blocked their way.

  The stones, which had loosened over the centuries and fallen into the cesspool, made their footing uneven and often twisted their ankles and pitched them to the side. Sheila kept her sword at the ready and skewered several more rats. Trey tried his best to burn away the cobwebs, but felt the bite of Sheila’s sharp tongue as she cursed at those he had missed.