by Dan Zangari
The host’s eyes widen in response and he swallows hard before speaking, “I take it this concerns those fugitives?”
“The matter is for Demitru’s ears only!” Cornar barks.
“I understand,” the host bows his head then adds, “Shall I direct you to him?”
“Yes.”
The host quickly nods his head then flips through a book on the podium. After searching through the pages, he swiftly pushes himself from the stand and steps to the right side of the large foyer toward a wide archway.
In response to the host’s movement, Cornar and the others follow him and walk into a large dining hall: Intricately carved wooden panels line the walls, with sconces lighting the room. Similarly designed tables are positioned all throughout the space, which is mostly square with the exception of the semi-circular protrusion in the far right corner of the room.
As Cornar and the others enter the dining hall, conversational chatter from many of the patrons ceases; each of them arrogantly look at the feigned Alathian mages while some mutter condescending remarks to each other.
Hearing the whispers, Tilthan turns to the nearest of the muttering patrons and stops his gait while replying in a perturbed manner, “You better watch what you say. We’re Mages of Alath and I don’t have a problem personally escorting any of you fools to The Castle!”
The room fall silent and Tilthan smirks in response then follows after the others who are moving through another archway and into a hallway leading to the rear of the grand establishment.
All throughout the hallway are private booths, many of which are empty; however, a few are occupied with small parties.
“Up here,” the host says as he points to the last booth at the end of the hallway; its doors are pulled shut but loud laughter can be heard from within.
The host quickens his pace and arrives at the booth before Cornar and the others. He slides the doors open and steps inside, where he can be faintly heard conversing with those in the booth about the supposed plainclothes mages.
The host finishes speaking when Cornar and the others arrive at the partially opened doorway.
Recessed several phineals inside the private booth is an elegant table and curving seating whose fabric resembles the chairs in the foyer.
Two couples are sitting around the table, each aloofly looking at Cornar and his companions standing at the entrance to the booth: Both men are dressed in black and red formal garbs while the women are clothed in beautiful dresses; the one on the right wearing a whitish-beige gown while the other is clothed a form fitting silky lime-green dress.
“Atrim?” the man on the right queries in confusion; he has very short dark brown hair and a slender face which is clean shaven. His light pale-green eyes glance to Atrim then to Cornar at the forefront of the small band.
“What are you doing here?” the man continues in an aggravated manner, “I told you I would be busy all night.
“And what do you mages want with me? My division isn’t included in your search.”
“Demitru I presume?” Cornar asks while staring at the aggravated man.
“Yes,” Demitru hostilely responds and waves his hand at Cornar, “Get on with it! Answer me!”
“We need to speak with you in private,” Cornar sternly states, “Come with us.”
“No,” Demitru shakes his head, “You’ll say whatever you’re going to say right now.”
The woman to Demitru’s left smirks a smile to Cornar then raises her right hand and rests her chin within her palm, gently tapping her jeweled middle finger against her lips.
Noticing the ring, Cornar says in a wary tone, “I doubt your wife will want to hear this.”
Chuckling, Demitru shakes his head then demands, “Quit wasting my time mage.”
“Cor,” Tilthan speaks up and comes to the edge of the table, “Let me do the talking.”
Demitru’s eyes narrow at Tilthan followed by faintly mumbling, “I know that voice…”
“Look,” Tilthan sighs and shakes his head, “Demitru, it’s me, Tilthan.”
“Close the doors,” Cornar glances over his shoulder to Kalder and Nordal.
Both warriors comply with their mentor’s orders as Tilthan continues talking to Demitru.
“We need some help. And after that I have a deal to work out with you, which will make us really rich.”
“I don’t believe it,” Demitru gasps, “How did you make it to Arbath? Dorith has sent patrols to every city and has rallied every mage and member of the Kingdom Guard.”
“It’s a long story,” Tilthan shakes his head.
“And you,” Demitru looks up to Cornar, “You must be the magnificent Cornar; the man who braved the Ska’in mountains and slew the Ca’trusin on Soroth. Amazing…”
Confused at Demitru’s notions about himself, Cornar asks, “What are you talking about?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t know those terms,” Demitru laughs and turns to the woman at his side then gropes her leg. “I’m simply referring to those events which occurred twenty eight years ago.”
“What is he talking about?” Nordal asks his mentor.
“Oh,” Kalder says and glances to Nordal, “He’s referring to the time Cor and Master Iltar were stranded in the desolate lands.”
“And the Ca’trusin?” Hagen asks, “What’s that?”
“Demitru,” the man on the other side of the table calls out and raises his brow then darts his eyes to the closed doors.
“No,” Demitru shakes his head. “Tilthan is my buddy. I want to hear what he has to say first before we fetch the guards.”
“Whoa!” Tilthan rapidly raises his palms. “You can’t possibly be thinking of turning us in?”
“Well,” Demitru smiles at Tilthan, “Not you buddy. But the rest of your companions have a high price on their heads. Dorith wants them and is willing to pay quite a substantial sum, especially for Cornar.”
Hearing Demitru’s words, Nordal heavily sighs and shakes his head and glances to Kalder, who shares a similar sentiment about their predicament.
“It’s funny,” Demitru smiles at Tilthan then continues, “Stealing the activating scroll for the amulet of draconic control has really stirred those mages up. I’m quite impressed by the way; that must be one of the most notorious thefts in all of Kalda. And the swiftness of your escape out of the Inner City, Tilthan, what an ingenious stunt.”
“Uh…” Hagen stammers in his high pitched voice, “Cor, how does he know about all that?”
“I don’t know,” Cornar’s brow furrows, “But that’s something I’d like to find out. Not even the mage they sent after us knew about the activating scroll.”
“Puzzling,” Demitru looks to Cornar, “Isn’t it? I know a lot more about your quest to re-forge the ancient amulet than you think.”
“Really?” Nordal asks then adds, “I didn’t know the Surveilors were privy to secret matters of the Estate.”
“They’re not,” Demitru chuckles, “I am part of a much larger order, one that –”
“Demitru!” the man across the table rises to his feet and slams his hands on its surface, “Do not dare say more!”
“You know,” Demitru looks to Cornar then points to the other man, “You can kill him if you want.”
“What?” the man cries out, “How dare you?!”
“Well,” Demitru chuckles, “I have a thought formulating in my head and I don’t want you to be a part of it.”
“You scoundrel!” the man cries out then hurriedly pushes his way around the table.
Seeing this, Hagen utters the words to an incantation and Nordal darts forward to intercept the man, striking him across the face.
The man stumbles backward and falls against the edge of the table and Nordal continues with a flurry of punches which further debilitates him.
As the man slumps to the ground, Hagen’s magic wisps around Nordal and into Demitru’s dinner associate.
“That works too,” Demitru nods his head,
“But you probably should kill him later; he’ll undoubtedly attempt to turn you in and expose me. What is it that you want to talk about?”
“We need to break into the prison castle,” Tilthan blurts out. “And free Iltar.”
Both women at the table gasp at the thief’s words and Demitru narrows his eyes.
“Cornar has a plan,” Tilthan says while motioning to the warrior behind him, “But we need large amounts of money to pull it off, bribing people and buying our way into the prison. We figured that you could help us by exchanging some loot we found recently.”
“From Merda no doubt,” Demitru nods his head.
“Yes,” Cornar chimes in.
“Look,” Tilthan frankly says, “Cornar wants to rescue Iltar. Me, personally, I just want to exchange my portion of the loot and live out the rest of my days in luxury.”
“You’re going to need a lot more than money to get into the prison,” Demitru grins and shakes his head then asks while looking back and forth to Cornar, “And what do I get out of this?”
“You’ll make a lot of coin reselling what we have to trade,” Tilthan grins widely. “We plundered many unique things from those elves.”
“Alright,” Demitru leans forward then frankly asks Tilthan, “But do you know how many dorins Cornar is worth to the mages? Far more than you can imagine I’d say.”
Angered by Demitru’s words, Cornar demands, “Will you help us or not? If not we’ll kill you, your wife and this other woman. We’ll find some other way; I’m not going to risk keeping anyone alive that has seen us.”
“Cornar,” Tilthan turns around and shakes his head, “Let’s not act hasty now.”
“My wife?” Demitru laughs and looks at the woman next to him, “Oh, you noticed her ring… Go right ahead, she’s not my wife.”
The woman’s eyes widen in horror as she looks at Cornar and the others but is paralyzed by her fear.
“We’re getting nowhere with this,” Demitru speaks up and quells his laughter, “Simply put, you need me; regardless of what you believe, you can’t free Iltar without me.”
“I doubt that,” Cornar retorts. “Besides, how can I know you won’t simply turn on us at some future point to collect the bounty on us?”
“Look,” Demitru sighs and glances to both of the women on either side of him, “We’re at a standoff here. I’m willing to help you, but it will cost you; however, we can arrange something. I’m sure you’ll be able to pay what else you owe me once you and Iltar restore the amulet. Perhaps you’ll let me rule this Kingdom.
“Now, why don’t we talk somewhere else? I would hate for some unwitting busboy to hear our conversation.”
“What about them?” Cornar asks and motions to both the women at the table.
“Arina?” Demitru looks to the woman wearing the green dress on his right. “You can keep this secret, right?”
“You know I’ll obey you darling,” Arina says with a twisted smile.
“And,” Demitru turns to the woman at his side then wraps his arm around her, “You’ll comply won’t you? Especially since you’re not supposed to be here with me right now…”
Without a word, the woman timidly nods her head.
“Good,” Demitru says and nudges the woman at his left and she slides out of the booth, averting her gaze from Cornar and the others as she does so.
“Fine,” Cornar answers then asks “Where are we going?”
“Some place I was intending to go later tonight,” Demitru answers as he rises from the booth, standing slightly taller than Tilthan. He then looks to Atrim and says, “You’ve sure been quiet, what’s wrong with you?”
“We had to put him under a spell,” Tilthan chuckles, “He was quite anxious when we approached him.”
“Oh,” Demitru says and pushes his way past the warriors standing near the doors, then slides them open. “Follow me.”
As he opens the doors Demitru looks to Nilia and slyly remarks, “I like redheads.”
Put off by Demitru’s flirting advance, Nilia retorts, “Luckily for me it’s not my natural color.”
Snickering, Demitru says as he moves through the opened threshold, “You can always keep that illusion on.”
As Demitru leaves the booth, Hagen maneuvers both men under his spells to the doorway while Cornar turns to the two other warriors and says, “Hold on to these two. I don’t want them to run off.”
Kalder simply nods his head and waits for Cornar to move past him, then the middle-aged warrior grabs the arm of the woman who was sitting at Demitru’s left.
“Come with me,” Nordal sternly states as he motions to Arina.
Deviously smiling at the warrior, Arina eagerly steps up to Nordal in a flirtatious manner.
“Take me anywhere you wish,” Arina whispers into Nordal’s ear.
“Oh I will,” Nordal grins and grabs her by the arm and pulls her out of the booth. All the while, Arina stares at Nordal with heated anticipation.
11
The Under-City
Cornar and Tilthan follow close behind Demitru as he leads them down the hallway they had first entered within the Alluring. As they near the threshold leading to the dining hall they had previously traversed, Demitru turns to his right down an intersecting corridor.
“So where are we going old friend?” Tilthan asks.
“You’ll see,” Demitru looks over his shoulder with a smirking grin. “We’re not far from its entrance.”
“It?” Tilthan wonders aloud then looks to Cornar.
“I guess we’re going to that under-city Atrim mentioned,” Cornar speculates.
A sweet aroma fills the corridor as the party continues to follow Demitru, accompanied by the kitchen noises and chefs hollering.
“This way,” Demitru motions to his right and opens a single doorway. “Quick, inside.
“After you,” Demitru says to Cornar and Tilthan.
“I’d rather you go in first,” the warrior coldly states.
“Alright,” Demitru shrugs, “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
One by one, the men and women follow Demitru through the doorway and step into a storage closet; it is barely large enough to accommodate all eleven of them.
“Close the door,” Demitru turns back to Kalder, who is the last to enter the closet.
Once the door shuts, Demitru removes a small light stone from his tunic, which illuminates the space. He then reaches out and touches a protruding portion of the wall, nearly half a phineal wide which runs from floor to ceiling.
At Demitru’s touch, a squared portion within the protrusion opens up, and reveals a small alcove with several glowing gemstones recessed into the wall as well as a palm-sized square which courses with greenish-grey magic.
“Whoa,” Tilthan gasps, “That looks like those things in the Estate’s Inner Depth’s.”
“So I’ve heard,” Demitru says and presses against the gemstones then touches the glowing square and moves his finger, tracing letters in the common language of Kalda.
In that same moment, the wall to the right of the opened alcove glows with a similar greenish-grey hue in the form of a door. It softly resonates with a hum then the wall compresses and slides open.
Beyond the newly opened threshold is a dimly lit stairwell, illuminated by a faint lavender light along each of the steps.
“Let’s go down,” Demitru says and side steps to the opening. “And you can remove your illusions.”
“Hagen,” Cornar looks back to the short illusionist, “Send those two in first.”
“Good idea,” Hagen squeaks out and mentally controls both men to move past Cornar and Tilthan. In that same moment, Hagen relinquishes the magic veiling his and his companions’ true forms.
Once the enthralled men are through the threshold, Cornar and Tilthan follow after them, all the while they can hear the woman in Nordal’s grasp muttering in an awestruck tone, “My, your more handsome than your illusion! I’m so fortunate…”
“It
sounds like Nordal is going to be having fun tonight,” Tilthan grunts and glances to Cornar as they descend the steps.
Without acknowledging his thieving companion, Cornar quickly moves down the steps which descend three stories. The stairs empty into a semi-circular landing twice the width of the stairwell, where light spills in from an adjacent corridor to the right of the bottom step. The walls of the landing and the corridor are seamlessly smooth and made of perfectly polished pure white stone.
Once down the steps Cornar and Tilthan move into the corridor where Demitru is standing at an opening along the wall to the left.
Faint music lingers into the corridor from the opening, which causes Cornar to raise his brow.
“Where now?” Cornar asks and looks past Demitru and into opening at a long lobby. At the far end of the space are two double doors with burly men standing with their arms folded.
“In there,” Demitru motions over his shoulder. “Past the door with the bouncers.”
Once the others enter the corridor, Demitru turns around and quickly walks toward the two men standing by the doors.
“I need you to keep some people here,” Demitru says to the large man on the left, “Use whatever force necessary to hold them here.”
Hearing the words, Cornar snarls, “He’s betrayed us!”
The warrior immediately grasps the hilts of his weapons and swiftly draws his serrated dagger and short sword.
As the blades sing through the air, Tilthan is taken aback and Demitru hastily turns around.
“Not you,” Demitru laughs and shakes his head at Cornar then points to the women in the other warriors’ grasp and the man whom he was with at dinner, “Them.
“Boy, you are paranoid. But rightly so I suppose,” Demitru shrugs and turns around, “You have the entire Kingdom after you.
“Open up.”
As the burly bouncers open the doors, the music loudly floods from the opening threshold.
The doorway immediately opens up at the rear of an enormous chamber; it is dimly lit from coursing magic trailing across lines within the ceiling and walls. The magical light pulses and shifts color in correspondence with the music.