by Steven Drake
“Well,” he finally declared, “south it is I suppose. How will we find this sanctuary?”
“It lies in a cave where many waters meet. Follow the waters and you will find it.” Maya smiled and giggled.
“Well, I suppose that answers our question,” Rana said.
“At least it answers the question as vaguely as possible,” Darien rubbed his temples in frustration.
Rana frowned at him disapprovingly, and turned to the faerie once again. “Thank you, Maya. I think you’ve told us all we need to know.”
“Not quite all I think,” Maya glanced momentarily at Jerris. “It is true that I led Rana to you, Darien the Executioner, because we faeries have business with you, and with Jerris as well, yet, it is also true that I led Rana to you because she asked to find the man who led the attack that killed her parents, and because we faeries owed her family a debt. That these two things happened together was only a happy chance.”
“A happy chance, you say,” the Executioner scoffed. “I would say instead that we have been pawns in this game all along. I would like to know whose game we are playing. I do not think it is yours.”
“Must you assume the worst at every possible opportunity? You must make a wretched traveling companion,” Maya’s face contorted into a pout like a little girl. “Fine then. You know one of the players already, the one who moves against you at every turn, and seeks your end.” Darien nodded and Maya continued. “The other you will come to know soon enough, yet it is not so simple, as you will see, for all of us are pawns in the game of fate. Even the very powerful cannot long resist the currents of destiny. Now, if you are quite satisfied?” Darien nodded once again, and Maya turned to Jerris. “Despite your friend’s sour disposition, I would say everything has worked out beautifully. Wouldn’t you, Jerris?”
“I cannot think of a better outcome,” Jerris said. “You are the one thing in the whole world I am happiest to see.”
“You flatter me. Am I so beautiful to look upon?” Maya teased and whirled around several feet in the air. Darien laughed as Jerris’ face turned a deep crimson.
“That’s not what I meant, Err Wait, no, I don’t mean that you aren’t beautiful. You’re quite lovely, but I meant that I need you to translate this.” Jerris fumbled about in his pockets almost as clumsily as he had fumbled his words, but finally produced the book.
“What’s that?” Rana asked.
“It is a prophecy,” Maya explained. “A very old one, given by our people’s greatest oracle to the elves a very long time ago. The elves were ever our friends. They sheltered us, even as their own kingdom crumbled around them. They used much of their remaining power to ensure that we could be safe beyond the reach of the formless ones, those that you call demons. We owe the elves a great debt, and this prophecy is part of that debt, yet it is also much more. I regret, Jerris, that I cannot translate this. I do not know the old speech. Only our queen, she who is ageless as the sea, now remembers it. The prophecy was spoken by her sister, the oracle Saria, and entrusted to the elves to be kept safe and secret from all enemies. It pleases me greatly to see that even in their long misery and wandering, the elves have remained true to their word. You honor us. I will lead you to our queen. That is part of the reason I am here. You are closer to your goal than you imagine.”
Jerris’ eyes grew wide and he began to tremble visibly. “You know where the hidden city is? The one my mother spent her life looking for? Can you take us there?”
“I do, I can, and I shall,” Maya smiled and bowed once again to Jerris.
“Hidden city? What does he mean, Maya?” Rana added.
“The hidden sanctuary of the elves. Jerris’ mother spent many years searching for it, but it was not her destiny to find it. It is a city hidden by ancient trees and ancient magics in the high peaks of the Silver Mountains, and it is where you must go, for the time of prophecy is nigh,” Maya spoke soberly for the first time since she had appeared, and the golden haired southern girl nodded her understanding.
“Well, it appears we all understand what we’re doing here. I suppose I’ve served my purpose and my part is over,” Rana sounded almost disappointed to Darien’s ear, a strange sentiment given that remaining with them would almost certainly mean more peril and danger. I suppose once we reach the hidden city, my part may end as well, or again it may not, Darien mused. The words of Ezra rang in his mind once again, ‘it was made by the ancient elves. If there was ever a way to destroy it, they would know.’
“Perhaps, and perhaps not,” Maya said. “You think it is because of me alone that you are here, yet that is not so. There were many paths you might have chosen, but you have chosen this. There is much more along this path, danger and wonder, defeat and triumph, glory and death. Who can say? Whether or not you continue upon this path is up to you.”
“We still have the problem of our pursuers,” Darien said. “I’m certain those goblins didn’t get all the way to Thordas by themselves. Someone brought them, and that someone is still looking for us. Once it is dark outside, we move again. You will at least come with us until I am certain you are no longer in that peril.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you for your concern,.” the young woman groaned, then turned to the green glowing faerie. “Thank you Maya, you may go.” With that, Maya disappeared into the pool of water, becoming a green glowing light once again. Then Rana dipped the vial into the water, and the green light slipped into it, then disappeared.
“Do you believe it Darien? We’re actually going to find it, already.” Jerris face was lit with joy, despite the danger.
The Executioner managed to smile back weakly, but to his jaded mind, all this was entirely too convenient. He was not so innocent as his companions, nor was he so eager to become embroiled in conflicts between his old master and the other races, but now his instinct told him that this was exactly the purpose the faeries had in mind for him. A warrior who wielded the Demon Sword would make a powerful ally, and that was why he had so diligently kept himself hidden from both his Master, and his Master’s enemies. A pang of anger rose in him, a chill running up his spine and down to his fingers. Once again he felt he was being manipulated by the powerful to serve ends other than his own, and that was something he did not like.
Chapter 21: The Seeds of Vengeance
Night fell cold and chill. The three travelers set out from the cave and continued down the river. During the first few hours of travel, the land flattened, the canyon walls disappeared, and the river grew wider, shallower, and slower. By midnight, the river flow stopped entirely, and the trio confronted a wall of white fog, rising in the night before them. The river emptied into a low, marshy lake that stretched for several miles to the east and west, blocking any further progress. They were now in a basin, bounded by high hills on all sides, visible as dark shapes in the distance.
A short debate ensued between Rana and Darien. The former argued that the water must go somewhere, and if they simply made their way through the marsh, they would find an exit. The latter countered that the water might simply sit stagnant in this basin, gathering and turning the area into a permanent swamp, or pass into some underground river, emerging somewhere else further south. Neither of the two convinced the other, so they finally compromised. They set out east along the lake, towards the lowest visible point in the surrounding hills.
At first, they made good progress. The marshy lake stretched many miles to the east, and the bank was firm and passable. Unfortunately, once past the lake, the rocky bank disappeared down into the marsh. The travelers carefully navigated the swamp as best they could, picking the safest looking areas. They dared not ride the horses here, for a single bad step into a hidden pit or sinkhole could mean a fall for the rider, and a fatal broken bone for the beast. The fog made the going even more miserable. Cold and wet, it quickly soaked through to the skin and clung to the trio like icy fingers. The fog thickened continuously as morning approached, and it became difficult for any of them to tell if they wer
e continuing in the proper direction. Nevertheless, they trudged ever forward, observant for their own tracks lest they begin walking in circles.
They were still slogging through the swamp when dawn’s light began to appear in the eastern sky. Darien might have been worried about traveling during the day, but the fog, while a frustrating inconvenience, also served to conceal them. The air in the basin was still, and no sound of pursuit could be heard, indeed nothing at all could be heard but the squishing sound of the travelers’ feet on the soft ground. Though all were tired from a night’s march, they continued onward, for this was no place to stop.
As the sun climbed into the eastern sky, the fog began to thin, slowly evaporating in the bright sunshine. Soon, the hills they had been making for became visible in the distance. They found that they had inadvertently turned south in the fog, and were now far off course, nearer to the middle of the basin than to the point they had been making for. Another more heated debate broke out. This time, Darien argued they should summon the faerie once again, but Rana coldly refused. She explained that it took considerable time for Maya to speak to the other faeries through the water, and that the faeries, being creatures of the water, possessed only a limited understanding of human geography. It was unlikely Maya would know anything about any path they could follow, nor could she long remain outside the vial to act as guide. This explanation did not entirely satisfy the shade, but he conceded as they had no time to waste time arguing the point.
Once again, they compromised, setting out toward the nearest point in the hills that ringed the marshy basin. With the fog lifting, it was now possible to keep a straight course, and soon the ground began to firm up around them, as they began to climb slowly and steadily upward. By mid-morning, they had reached the slopes of the hills that they had seen in the distance. They were pleased to find the hills neither as high nor as steep as they had appeared earlier. All agreed that they should take shelter, as the fog had now lifted entirely, and the whole of the marsh could be easily seen. A keen-eyed observer could have spotted them from any point in or around the basin. They surveyed the hills until they found a cluster of scrubby pine trees in a low place between two hills.
The Executioner had once again reached a point where he could no longer go without sleep. Jerris volunteered for the first watch, while the other two wrapped themselves in their bedrolls and laid down nearby. Sleep did not come easily to the older half-elf however. His mind was troubled by an odd sense of dread, something half-felt and half-imagined, but unshakeable nonetheless. The revelations of the faerie had brought neither excitement nor hope to his mind. He still dwelt upon the presence of his pursuers, and the nagging sense that he had forgotten something very important. Finally, after what seemed hours, he drifted uneasily into a troubled sleep.
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How long he slept before the dream began, he did not know, but once again, he found himself in the middle of the frozen figures. This time, it was only Kirin with him, standing in the gray light of a tent. The eerie motionless silence always lasted far too long, and he wished it over long before the figures lurched to life. How long ago this was, he could not tell, but Kirin appeared much as he always did. Darien was slightly leaner, not yet grown into his frame, but otherwise much the same. This could not have been long before Kirin’s execution. Finally, the scene shifted into motion.
“This is pointless. Why does the Master care about this insignificant kingdom?” the Hollow Eye complained. “Either of us could easily just steal this vial and be done with it. This is a waste of our resources.”
“It is not our place to question the Master,” the Executioner said. “We need only execute his will. Besides, I am in command here. I don’t even know why he sent you to observe.”
“You are yet inexperienced,” Kirin said. “Perhaps he fears your impatience will compromise your judgment. Since the Master took over your training, you have become increasingly violent and unpredictable, a dangerous combination for one trusted with the command of his armies. Perhaps he believes my presence will remind you of that. I am still your superior in the order, and you command only so long as I allow it.”
“We will see. Ultimately, their king will decide their fate. If he gives us what we want, we will spare his kingdom. Otherwise, we will lay waste to his kingdom and take it by force anyway. He would be a fool to refuse.”
“Indeed. Yet pride often leads men of power to such foolishness. His people will suffer for his folly if he refuses.”
“Quiet. He approaches,” Darien said. A middle-aged man walked into Kirin and Darien’s tent. He wore a luxurious red robe and a golden crown, along with other trappings of royalty. His almond-colored hair was streaked with gray, and his thick triangular beard showed traces of his advancing age as well.
“I am King Rodrick of Geruda. I have come alone as you asked. Now, why have you come before my gates armed for war?” the King spoke boldly, and with authority. “You have no right to be here. Who are you? I would know the names of those I parlay with.”
“I am Darien the Executioner. I command these armies, and I speak for my immeasurably powerful Master, the Demon King who protects your lands and demands only your obedience.”
“If that were all he demanded, you would not be here,” the King made no effort to conceal his anger. “I will ask again. What do you want?”
“I will come straight to the point then,” Darien said more softly. “It has come to my Master’s attention that you possess a certain magical artifact, a small crystal vial with a very ancient enchantment, a treasure of your family. The Master wishes to study this artifact, so you will produce it for us. Furthermore, the Master desires that you deliver this artifact personally, as a token of your loyalty. These are the commands I have been instructed to give you. Obey, and we will depart. No harm will come to you or your kingdom.”
“Damn you!” King Rodrick cursed. “What you ask for is the greatest treasure of my house. It is a guarded secret. There is only one way the Demon King could know of it. Someone told him. It’s my second son, Marcus, isn’t it? He’s plotting against me, using the Demon King’s armies to do what he could never do himself.”
“It was, but that hardly matters now,” Kirin stated flatly. “Just give us what we want, and at least your family will still have a throne to sit upon. Is it really so awful that the younger son inherits your throne instead of the elder?”
“You fiends do not know of what you speak. You are empty; you have no feelings; you cannot understand the love of a father for his eldest son, or the honor and dignity of a royal house. You speak of what is dearest to me as if it were no more than a trifle. This artifact you so casually demand, do you even know what it does? Do you know what it means to my family? Do you know why my younger son seeks the throne? Do you even care, you soulless savages?”
“What it does, and what the Master does with it are not my concerns. The affairs of your house are not my concern. I do not care what arrogant, lazy, self-important idler sits on your throne,” the Executioner scoffed. “The Master commands me, and I obey. You must now do the same. The Master’s order is given to you, King Rodrick, personally. I am only the messenger.”
“And if I refuse?” King Rodrick muttered.
“Refusing the Master’s command is an act of rebellion, and must be dealt with. As the King, you speak for your kingdom, and all your people. If you refuse, then your entire kingdom shall be held guilty, and condemned as traitors,” Darien said, his voice calm, flat, even casual. “That is the will of the Demon King, and I am his Executioner. I am sent to deliver the message, and, if necessary, to execute the condemned.”
“Curse you and curse your Master.” Rodrick stood up proudly and raised his voice nearly to a shout, “I have committed no crimes against him. I have faithfully upheld all vows of loyalty, as has my family for many generations. I have paid all tributes and taxes, at the cost of my own people’s welfare. We have gone hungry to feed his armies, sent our finest sons to die in his
wars in the East, allowed his monstrous servants to walk our streets, and this is all the loyalty he shows us. What you ask for is the greatest treasure of my house. I would not hand it over to him if he purged a thousand kingdoms.”
“Enough!” The Executioner interrupted. “Consider your next words carefully, your majesty. Your defiance will avail you nothing. The Master has spoken, and he will have what he desires one way or the other. Give us the vial, or your kingdom shall be utterly destroyed, and then we will take it from the ruin.”
“You would really doom your own people over this?” Kirin said. “Will you not at least act like a king? No matter how valuable your trinket, how can you weigh it against the lives of your people?”
“I will not submit to this insult. Do what you will. Death is a better end than to live under the thumb of you murdering tyrants.”
The Executioner had heard enough, so he drew his sword, and ran it through the king’s heart. The king fell, an expression of shock and anger frozen upon his face, and his blood stained the sandy ground. Darien took the crown from his head, walked out of the tent, and raised it above his head. The Master’s army, faceless monstrous forms, roared in approval, and all around the city, they began to charge forward.
The dream devolved into a confusing jumble of clashing swords, flowing blood, and burning fires. The blank faces of enemy soldiers fell before him, no more than wheat before the scythe. Women and children ran in the street from the armies of the Demon King, but he ignored them. That was not his purpose here. Time rushed forward again, and then an image flashed into his mind. A young girl held the vial. He pursued her, but first one guard then another blocked his way. He cut them down. After all the guards were slain, the men and women of the royal family, still arrayed in their finery, fought in futility. One stern, proud looking man and the oldest of the bunch, put up a spirited fight, but he too fell, as the Executioner finally ripped his body in half with a shadow void. The girl with the vial looked him directly in the eye, and it was as if time froze for several minutes, as her sky blue eyes glared at him, filled with a terrible mixture of fear and hate. She turned and ran around a corner, with the Executioner only a few steps behind, but when he rounded the corner, all he saw was a large room with a fountain in the center. There was no sign of the girl or the vial. Where had she gone? The Master would not be pleased that his prize had gotten away. The Master’s punishment would be severe. Failure was met with instruction, and instruction meant pain. A cold chill ran down his spine. At once, water erupted from the fountain, filling the room, and throwing Darien back. The city disappeared, and he was alone in an eternity of water, struggling against a current that pulled him now, towards what, he dared not look. He fought against it, but he was drawn ever faster away, and the water rose high around him, pulling him into a maelstrom. He screamed, but his voice was lost in the torrent of water.