by Dan Zangari
“That’s horrible,” the inn keeper sighs and runs his thick fingers through his curly dark hair. “Do you have any inclination who he was? I don’t remember seeing him come in.”
“He’s not dead,” Nordal speaks up. “We knocked him out.”
“Are you sure that was wise?” the inn keeper stutters. “He, he could go on a rampage again!”
“No,” Cornar shakes his head, “We’ll keep him tied up.”
“I have some rope,” the inn keeper points toward the stables to the east of the partially ruined lodge.
Cornar glances past the inn keeper and notices two other members of his and Iltar’s expedition walking toward them; the young conjurer Dith, and Hagen’s former apprentice in the illusionary arts, Hem.
“One of my friends is coming, he’ll weave together some rope.”
“Weave?” the inn keeper’s chubby face twists in confusion. “That’ll take too long.”
“You don’t get it,” Nordal shakes his head, “Do you?”
The inn keeper’s expression turns to surprise and he steps backward in trepidation. “Wait… Kildath, you… you said you were merchants.”
“I never said such a thing,” Cornar retorts and motions for the two approaching mages to come to him and both Hem and Dith start to jog toward their companions in adventure.
“If you’re not merchants then…” the inn keeper breathes heavily, “Who, or what are you?”
“Just keep quiet,” Nordal says as he comes to Cornar’s side.
“Keep this to yourself,” Cornar growls, partially out of pain and an effort to intimidate the inn keeper. “We simply stopped a rogue mage. That’s all. I will pay you whatever it will cost to repair your lodge. All you have to do is keep quiet about us.”
“But…” the inn keeper struggles to get out the question, “Who are you?”
“Some people have called us heroes,” Nordal remarks then slyly looks at his companions about him.
“Tie him up,” Cornar calls out to Hem as he nears the crowd then the warrior looks to the inn keeper. “We need a place to question him.”
“The cellar by the butcher’s!” the inn keeper blurts out. “It’s all stone, he shouldn’t catch it on fire easily.”
* * * * *
Not more than an hour later, Cornar, Amendal, Hex, and Kalder are standing in a cool darkened cellar. A single light stone hangs from a crude chandelier made mostly from rope. In the center of the room the intruding mage is bound to a wooden chair by green magically composed cords, still unconscious with his head hanging forward.
Each of the four men are sternly gazing at the mage, lost in thought. A conversation at the top of the stairs leading to the cellar jars them from their somber contemplation.
“He did all that?!” a high pitched voice squeaks out. “I can’t believe it.”
“Yes,” Nordal’s voice can be heard from the stairwell, “Amendal thinks he’s a grand mage.”
“Oh no…”
Cornar and the others turn toward the base of the stairs where Nordal and the short illusionist, Hagen, are descending into the cellar.
“How many people died?” Hagen hysterically asks as he enters the dimly lit room and stands next to Hex.
“Who knows,” Nordal shrugs in an aloof manner.
“We had to knock him out again,” Cornar grunts then looks to the short illusionist, “Hagen cast a mind control spell on him.”
“Yuck,” the illusionist retorts and shakes his head, “I hate doing that. I wish Iltar was here.”
Hex playfully pokes Hagen in the shoulder then says, “Just do it.”
The illusionist looks to Cornar then to Hagen and lastly to Amendal. The old conjurer coldly stares back at Hagen with a blank expression upon his face.
“Fine,” Hagen sighs and walks toward the intruding mage. He utters the words to the spell and grey magic swirls in front of him.
As Hagen is reciting the incantation, Credal opens his eyes and glares up to the illusionist. The intruding mage hostilely utters the words to a spell and reddish-orange light gathers around his hands.
Kalder draws his sword from upon his back and is about to dash forward, but Cornar shakes his head and extends his arm toward the warrior.
Hagen finishes the incantation and the grey magic wisps through the air and into the nostrils of the bound mage; the illusionist’s spell abruptly stops Credal from finishing his incantation, causing the magic to fade out.
“Now what?” Hagen looks back with a timid and puzzled gaze upon his face.
“Who are you?” Cornar growls and comes to the illusionist’s side. “And what are you doing here?”
“I am Credal Hestran, an Agent of the Order of the Mages of Alath and a plainclothes-mage discerner. I was sent by my grandmaster to investigate the whereabouts of Iltar’s companions and return with word concerning them. He had learned that the crystal in Iltar’s possession was bound to an ancient magical object.
“When I arrived, I saw the device which could bind rogulin and I decided to take it so as to allow my brethren a speedy return.”
Hagen gasps and looks a Cornar with a worried expression smeared across his face.
“What happened to Iltar?” Cornar demands.
“We captured him as he attempted to escape the city with one of his companions.”
“One?” Hagen blurts out and puts his hands on his head.
“I don’t understand,” Hex mutters and looks to Amendal, “Why wouldn’t he use the rogulin crystal?”
“Why were you mages after Iltar?” Cornar asks and winces in pain, his back still shows signs of the magical burns inflicted upon him earlier that day.
“He stole something from the Estate. What, we were not told. The council of mages had trapped him in the city and sent many of us after him. Hundreds are dead in Alath.”
“When did this happen?” Nordal asks from the rear of the cellar.
“Several hours ago.”
“And what of Iltar?” Cornar angrily shouts, “Is he alive?!”
“My grandmaster told me he had encased Iltar within an ancient magic, one in which he can never escape. He will most likely be judged and tried by the voices of Alath’s citizens.”
“How swift is the judicial system here?” Hex asks generally.
“In Klath it was quick,” Nordal answers. “But I would bet it will be even quicker, since the mages control part of the civil affairs of the city. Perhaps a week or two.”
Cornar’s brow furrows as the others discuss the situation further and the warrior questions the bound mage again.
“Who was with Iltar?”
“I was not told.”
The eldest warrior shakes his head and turns around to face the others in the room. Each of them have concerned expressions upon their faces, the most prominent of which is Hagen. A moment of silence passes before Hex speaks up.
“What about the two other thieves?”
“I would wager anything that Tilthan fled at the first sign of trouble,” Nordal smirks.
Cornar silently looks back to the mage then to his companions. He squints his eyes and becomes lost in thought for a brief moment.
“What else can you tell us about Iltar?” Cornar speaks up and turns to Credal. “Why do you have his rogulin crystal and why couldn’t he use it to escape the city?”
“Alath’s inner city was sealed in some kind of barsion magic,” Credal answers and Hagen gasps. Hex’s eyes widen and Amendal raises his brow while the warriors continue listening to the bound mage.
“I believe the council erected it around the city somehow. Nevertheless, even without that veiling magic, no one can open a portal within the inner city, and only one that possesses a conjurer’s ring may open a portal back to the Estate.
“I had seen Iltar before several times with Master Almar. I had heard that they were brothers, sons of Adrin. I do not know anything else of their relation, but for nearly a month Iltar was welcomed in the Estate until we were a
woken abruptly early this morning.”
“What about the item he stole?” Cornar demands. “Where is it?”
“I am unsure. From what I heard about the battle with Iltar, only a rogulin crystal was found on him.”
Without a word, Cornar turns around and walks toward the base of the stairs leading to the cellar. He rests his back on the cool stone and heavily sighs.
“Two of the thieves must have escaped,” Hex ponders aloud, “Perhaps they have the activating scroll.”
“Perhaps,” Cornar sighs, “But we need to go to Alath.”
“Whoa!” Hagen blurts out and shakes his head. “We can’t go there! If they caught Iltar they’ll surely catch us too!”
“Nordal,” Cornar looks to the warrior and motions to Credal, “Kill him. We can’t take any chances leaving him alive.”
“With pleasure,” the younger warrior grins and draws his sword from his sheathe. He walks toward the bound mage and twirls his blade along his side then reels back and stabs Credal in the heart.
The intruding mage is unnaturally motionless as the blade penetrates his chest, still bound by Hagen’s magic. Nordal quickly releases his weapon and the entranced mage slowly slumps backward.
“Cor, are you out of your mind?” Hagen blurts out and paces back and forth in front of the others.
“We are going to Alath Hagen,” Cornar sternly looks at the short illusionist. “We need to find the other thieves and discover Iltar’s true fate. Whatever it is, we will rescue him, at no matter the cost.”
“I’m going with you,” Kalder says and steps toward Cornar. “But if I must say, you’re in no shape to ride.”
“I’ll be fine,” Cornar sighs and rests his head against the cool stone wall. “And just Hagen and myself are going.”
“Wha…?” Hagen stammers and shakes his head, burying his face in his hands. “Why, oh why?”
“Cornar, is that wise?” Hex sternly asks.
“I would go by myself if I could cast an illusion or an invisibility spell. Alath is dangerous, and I don’t want to place anyone else in immediate harm’s way if I can help it.”
“The more reason for us to join you,” Nordal retorts and comes his mentor’s side.
“No,” Cornar leans away from the wall and faces his companions. “I want everyone else to stay here. You should be safe. This mage was sent to discover our location and since he’s dead they won’t know where to look.”
“What if they discover us by some other way?” Kalder asks, “Couldn’t they just place Iltar under a mind controlling spell? Or one of the thieves if they find them?”
“If they could have probed Iltar’s mind I believe they already would have,” Cornar reasons. “As for the thieves we’ll just have to hope they can out whit the mages.
“But perhaps the conjurers can set some creatures out to watch the road. They don’t have a means to teleport to us so they will have to come by horse.
“Kalder, you’re in charge. Now let’s get some provisions and a couple of horses.
“Hagen let’s leave tonight.”
“Why not use his ring,” Nordal asks.
“I don’t like the idea of being teleported straight to the mages,” Cornar shakes his head. “No, they could be waiting for us.
The short illusionist shakes his head and mutters, “This is the worst year of my life; dragons, werewolves, vampires and now we’re going into a den of vicious mages.”
2
Surreptitious Entry
Six days later as twilight settles upon the grand city of Alath, Cornar and Hagen are laying on top of one of the many hills lining the southern portion of Alath’s outer city, nearly two grand phineals east of the highway which runs to and from Klath.
Both warrior and illusionist are dressed in light tanned clothing. Cornar’s beard has been trimmed back and his brown hair is neatly cut.
The warrior has a hunting monocular over his left eye and is surveying the walls of the city just nearly eight grand phineals away to the north of them.
“That’s such a huge city,” Hagen dismally squeaks out.
“Yes it is,” Cornar says as he puts the monocular down. “I could barely see the city’s gate, but it seems like those traveling to Alath are handing something to the guards.”
“Probably declaring their citizenship or showing their proof of passage,” Hagen sighs, “Something we don’t have.
“Well,” the illusionist stands up and turns around to start walking back to their horses at the southern foot of the hill, “We’re not getting in I guess. Let’s go back–”
“Hagen,” Cornar reaches out and grabs the short illusionist by the leg, “I’ve been watching their patrols. We can sneak past them over the walls.”
“Are you insane?” Hagen sputters.
“Get down,” the warrior sternly states and Hagen obliges.
“There is a gap between the guards outside and the ones on the ramparts. All we need to do is be invisible as we climb, as well as our ropes.
“We can do this Hagen; Iltar and I were able to sneak onto the Ilssilis this way.”
“What if it’s a trap?”
“I don’t think so,” Cornar says and puts the monocular back upon his left eye. “From what the mage said about Iltar’s rampage and that army we passed, I believe their ranks have dwindled.”
“There must have been at least a thousand mages,” Hagen mutters as he recounts the battalion they had passed three days earlier. “Not to mention all those soldiers.”
“The Mages of Alath must really want to capture us,” Cornar smirks with a smile. “Come on, cast those illusions on us and that invisibility. We have a wall to climb.”
“Alright,” Hagen sighs and rolls to his side. He utters the words to the illusionary magic, and light grey magical particles move through the air and wrap around Cornar. After a moment, the warrior’s visage shifts in shape. His rounded face sharpens and his jaw line comes to a point. His emerald colored eyes darken and turn a dark brown. His brown hair grows to the length of his shoulder and becomes grey while his beard disappears and reveals a wrinkled complexion.
“You look horrible,” Hagen chuckles.
“Good,” Cornar’s illusionary face grins at his companion, “Now keep that attitude Hagen.”
The illusionist speaks the words to another incantation, and similar magic surrounds him. Hagen’s slender jaw line fills out and becomes squared. His brown hair turns blonde and his sharp nose shortens and becomes round. His hazel eyes become a vibrant blue and his slightly wrinkled complexion becomes smooth and youthful.
“Much improved my friend,” Cornar chuckles. “You’re the spitting image of a dashing prince.”
Hagen bashfully smiles then recites the words to bring forth the invisibility magic then both he and Cornar vanish from sight.
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later, Cornar and Hagen emerge from an alley almost a grand phineal north of the outer city’s walls and not far from the central highway which runs from the southern gate, the same which Cornar had spied upon, to the grand entrance to Alath’s heart, the Inner City.
“I’m hungry,” Cornar remarks. “Let’s find a tavern and perhaps we can learn a little bit more about our friend’s fate.”
The illusionary clothed companions walk out into a roadway, lined with tall narrow homes and various shops. Lamp posts, with small round light stones encased within glass, line the street and dimly give light to the roadway. Sparse traffic flows through the street and both Cornar and Hagen mingle within then head toward the north where the towering alabaster walls of the inner city can be faintly seen.
After traveling for a third of an hour, the two companions in adventure arrive at a two story building with a sign hanging on a post just in front of its doors reading, “Tradul’s Tavern.”
“Well?” Cornar asks Hagen and points to the sign.
The short illusionist nods his head and both of them walk to the doorway and step inside.<
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An aroma of freshly cooked poultry fills the air as Cornar and Hagen step into the tavern’s main dining area. The room is dimly lit by oil burning sconces and tabletop lanterns throughout the space. In the far left corner is a small bar with two patrons on the nearest end.
Cornar and Hagen walk through the mostly empty room and take two seats at the bar, left of the patrons. As they sit down, a middle aged woman somberly moves along the rear of the bar and stands in front of them.
“And what will you be having?” the female barkeep asks.
“We’re not familiar with what you serve,” Cornar remarks and looks to Hagen briefly. “We’re from Tor.”
“Ah,” the woman tiredly eyes both the men clothed in illusionary magic. “Do you want to sit and wait or are you in a hurry?”
“Well we need to find an inn,” Hagen squeaks out.
“Then you’re in a hurry,” the woman aloofly answers then walks away while saying, “I hope you like Krandoses.”
Hagen leans close to Cornar and whispers, “What’s her problem?”
The warrior doesn’t answer the question, but looks around the room with narrowed eyes. Many of the patrons are in a similar stern mood, some of which are dismal. The conversation from the two other patrons at the bar catches his attention and he listens to their recollection of the most recent events within the city.
“… I really don’t know, but I hope they catch them.”
“This could be the beginning of another war,” the man next to Hagen retorts. “We’ve had more conflict in the last hundred years than the last thousand. What is our world coming too?”
“There is too much division among the nations. The king should just reunite them. After all everything south of Kildath and east of Klis was ours at one point.”
Laughing, the patron next to the illusionist remarks, “And further the conflicts. His Majesty won’t do that.
“But if we are to wage war with Soroth, the fighting won’t last long.”