The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars)

by Tom Bielawski

  “Keep it up, Carym!” shouted Zach. “I’m almost there!”

  Carym understood his friend’s plan, and for a moment cursed himself for forgetting the weakness that the elf had told them of. By Carym’s own will, and the power of the Sigil of Flames, he struck the dragon in the head with his giant fist. Stunned, the dragon reeled backward. The carapace covering its head had cracked, one of its many eyes had been singed and melted. The beast screamed again and spit acid at the fire-hand in a futile attempt to ward off another attack. Carym struck again and again. Finally he willed the fist to grab the neck of the dragon. With his magic weakening it was all he could do to force the neck of the creature down to the floor of the tunnel, its body swinging wildly. But that was the opening that Zach needed. As the beast’s head was forced down, Zach slid down with it and began stabbing its breathing holes. Every strike forced a wail from the beast, but each wail was weaker than the last until finally it stopped and nothing but the smell of melted carapace filled the air.

  Carym’s magic dissipated, all was quiet in the tunnel. And Carym passed into unconsciousness.

  Carym was awakened from a dreamy sleep by soft hands and a gentle voice whispering his name. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep. The events of the day came rushing back to him and he struggled to rise.

  “Easy, Carym,” he opened his eyes and was staring into the face of the woman he had become so fond of. He heaved a sigh of relief that she was ok and fought back a tremendous feeling of guilt that she had had to take part in the fighting. All of these people were at risk because of him. Because Umber would not relent until Carym was captured or dead. He shook his head and realized that it hurt, badly.

  “We have to move,” he grumbled.

  “I think we are ok for the moment, Carym,” said the elf, Kharrihan. “All of the warves are dead, and so is the dragon thanks to you and Zach. I’ve done some scouting and it doesn’t appear that there are any other patrols nearby.”

  Zach! Carym looked around for his old friend, relieved to see him sitting quietly nearby, inspecting his dagger. “I’m glad you’re ok, Zach.”

  Zach turned his head and nodded at Carym, then went back to inspecting his dagger. Carym struggled to his feet. “The box,” he croaked.

  Kharrihan looked at him oddly. Gennevera understood and helped Carym remove the device from his coat. She set the box carefully on the ground and stepped away from it.

  “What is that?” asked Kharrihan, eying the ancient designs.

  “It is a multidimensional device. Inside it is the size of a castle with rooms and passages hidden everywhere, although at first it seemed to be no bigger than a small cottage.”

  “A small cottage?” he asked, skeptically.

  “Aye,” Carym said with a shrug. “How much time do we have, Kharr?”

  “Probably five to six hours before this patrol is reported missing.”

  Carym nodded. That would be enough time. “Where is Yag? And Gefar?” he asked with a pang of guilt, remembering seeing both men slumped on the ground during the fight. He cursed himself for not thinking of them sooner.

  “A little bruised, am I,” said Yag. “But none the worse for wear. Gefar was hit with the poison sting of that dragon, but Gennevera’s healing spells seem to have slowed the poison down.”

  “He needs rest, Carym. So do you,” she said, pointedly looking at the box.

  “What is it you intend?” asked Kharrihan.

  “Time passes differently inside the device, Kharr. Out here you may think only minutes have passed, but inside it will have felt like hours. It also possesses the magic of healing when the need is great.”

  “Well, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” laughed the elf, shaking his head ruefully. “First you turn yourself into a heaving rock troll, then a giant fist of fire appears in the air and smashes our dragon into pieces! Now you are going to teleport yourself into a box the size of an orok’s foot!” Kharr laughed out loud.

  “Aye,” Carym smiled. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit preposterous. Eh?”

  “Aye. You are going to make for a fine adventuring companion, friend!”

  “Companion? Won’t you need to return to your people?”

  “Nay, Sir Fyrbold. My queen, the Zhuan, has directed me to accompany you as far as you see fit. I am in your service, sir.”

  Carym smiled and thanked the man. He would be grateful to have such a skilled guide and scout with him.

  “We shall guard your rest, friend. Your need is great.”

  Gennevera and Yag helped Gefar hobble to Carym’s side and the two men supported each other. Gennevera held Carym’s hand while he leaned down and placed the stone into the slot. As their surroundings started to fade, Carym caught a shocked look on Zach’s face and chuckled at his friend’s expense.

  Once inside the common room of the device, Gennevera helped Gefar into the bedchamber and laid him down to rest. Carym staggered to the couch and lay down, nursing the pain in his pierced arm. Gennevera returned to the common room and sat on the floor next to Carym so that she could lay her head down on his chest.

  He felt truly content. The woman whom he was beginning to love, and who clearly had feelings for him, had fought valiantly for him and now nuzzled him gently. A warmth spread throughout his body and soon he felt himself getting very sleepy. He wanted to talk to Gennevera, but he just couldn’t summon the strength. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he registered the soft sound of snoring and wondered if it was himself.

  He awoke to what felt like hours later to find a cozy fire crackling in the hearth and Gennevera sitting by it, watching the flames dance. His body ached terribly, but his wounds had healed. He offered a silent prayer to Zuhr, offering his thanks, and asked for the strength needed to continue his journey.

  “How long have I slept?” he asked, startling Genn.

  “Oh! Nearly three hours.” She came to his side as he sat up, his head spinning but feeling much better. She tenderly inspected his arm and his back and was satisfied that his wounds had healed, leaving only scars. She kissed him on the arm where the dragon had stabbed him with its own spear tipped arm. Carym tried to speak but couldn’t. He tried to move, but couldn’t.

  Then she kissed him gently on the cheek and said, “I was so scared when you fell.”

  “I was scared for you too.”

  She leaned into him and the two held each other for a long time watching the fire, Carym idly wondering who lit it. Slowly he realized that she had fallen asleep, and guessed that she had been awake while he slept. He stroked her hair, and held her close, kissing her raven locks. The sounds of hard breathing and the occasional snore told him that Gefar still fitfully slept in the bedchamber. He wondered how much, or rather how little, time had passed in the tunnel above.

  After what seemed like another hour had passed Carym felt another presence in the room. With the sounds of snoring coming from the bedchamber, he knew it wasn’t Gefar. Craning his neck all around he spied Mathonry, the owner of the multidimensional device in which they were resting.

  “Having a pleasant stay?” he asked sarcastically. Carym began to rouse Gennevera so that he could stand and pay his respect to the immortal but the man waved him off.

  “Stay,” he said. Evidently he was unbothered by the lack of a respectful greeting. “I watched your encounter with the dragon, but I was unable to help. It seems that I have been restricted to guiding you from the confines of this place which was once my home.” The man did not seem as sorry as he let on. Carym was wondering if he would ever figure Mathonry out.

  “Thank you again for your hospitality, sir.”

  “Indeed,” said the immortal. “You ought not take this gift lightly. However, you fought well. You deduced several constructs using the language of the Sigils completely on your own and in the face of mortal danger. You seem capable enough to reach the Everpool”

  He was about to speak but the immortal waved him off.

  “
Please, say nothing. You will do great things Carym, but you still need training. Unfortunately there is little I can teach you in the time you have remaining. You must wake the others soon and return to the tunnels. That patrol you met was not there at the bidding of the Shadowfyr. They were hunting for something else, check their persons carefully.”

  “The Shadowfyr has sent one of his great hunters after you and even now he has picked up your spore. He comes from the Pit of Hades and his name is Hessan.”

  “Hessan? The Headless Rider?” Carym asked, unsure. The Headless Rider was a fairy tale told to school children to keep them in line. “The knight who served the ranks of the Dark Paladin? I thought that was a myth.”

  “No myth, my friend,” the Cjii said, sadly. “Hassan was a skilled tracker, with a nose as sensitive as that of a Cklathish Shepherd Dog. Umber has called Hessan out from the Pit of Hades wherein he resides, to be the dark god’s hunting dog from time to time. Over the centuries Hessan has rarely lost any prey once he has the spore!”

  How was he supposed to defeat that? How was he supposed to escape the Headless Rider? His friends would suffer for him again. “I cannot do this!” he hissed. “I cannot allow others to be caught in this web of darkness that is being spun to catch me! Haven’t enough people already been hurt and killed because of me?” his thoughts drifted to the poor villagers murdered in Hyrum. He knew that such a vicious retaliation had to have been set by the Shadowfyr.

  “Stop blathering man! Without them you will fail in your quest.”

  Carym was taken aback by the unfeeling rebuff and he wanted to lash out at the immortal. But inside, he felt like Mathonry was probably right. With a glance at Gennevera, he wondered how he could ever find the time for her; the quest must succeed. He just prayed that the woman would not be hurt because of those seeking to destroy him. He nodded, ruefully. He knew his duty, there was no escaping it.

  “I have prepared a small book to help you with some of the more advanced constructs of the Sigil of Flames. Study it whenever you can. The Shadowfyr has begun sending his shadow hunters after you and they cannot be stopped by ordinary weapons or ordinary Sigils spells.”

  Carym nodded wearily, he knew what he must do.

  “One more caution, Carym. Do not use my home for healing unless your need is dire, as is the case now. Its healing powers have limits; you may find that the next time you need it, the healing powers will be depleted. You and your friend are hale enough to return to the outside now.”

  Carym nodded, this was not good news. He had been aware that the healing powers of the device were not to be used lightly, but hadn’t considered them to be finite. He may have already used it too many times.

  Kharrihan was amazed. Carym had been true to his word and had reappeared a mere five minutes after entering the device. He and Gefar still looked haggard, but their wounds had healed and they would be ready to travel soon. “I have to admit, I wasn’t entirely sure about that box. But now...” his voice trailed off. Carym nodded, it was difficult to grasp the concept of shifting dimensions.

  “What have we learned about the warves, Kharr?” asked Carym. To him many hours had passed, but there was still much work to be done here.

  “As we suspected, they were patrolling their border regions. However, we found this in the pocket of one of the leaders shortly after the fight ended, while you were unconscious.” Kharrihan reached into his pocket and retrieved a scroll case. He opened the case and showed it to Carym. Carym just nodded to him, he couldn’t read Warvish.

  “It says: ‘Orders. Wasp Dragon patrol. Eastern Reaches. Meet with Necromancers and collect toll. Destroy resisters. Use the Shadowblast.’ I suspect that ‘Shadowblast’ is a weapon that can drive back the creatures wrought from the Shadowfyr’s magic. We found this wand inside the pocket of the dragon handler.”

  He held out a long wand, about the length of his forearm, and gave it to Carym. When he touched the wood he felt a surge of cold shoot down his arm, numbing it. Carym closed his eyes and let his sight shift to the magical sight that allowed him to see the Tidal flows of all the Mysteries. When he looked at the wand on the ground through his sight, it was as if a cloud of the dark Tides obscured it. “A powerful enchantment, indeed.”

  “Aye, so it would seem.” Carym placed the wand into his backpack, not wanting to accidentally trigger the spells stored in the device. He decided to give it to Mathonry and be rid of it at the earliest opportunity. The thought that the Zuharim had ventured so far into the Underllars had scared him. He had hoped that the patrol they had seen in Dalcasia was something else, pretenders perhaps. Alas, it appeared that the Zuharim were in league with, or at least perhaps neutral towards, the warves.

  “Are you and the others rested enough, Kharr?” asked Carym, remembering only minutes had passed for the others. He was eager to be gone. Kharrihan looked at the others and turned back to Carym.

  “I think we ought to rest here for a few hours, it was a hard fought battle.”

  “Aye. We’ve brought up some water and whiskey from the device, I think we could all use a kick.” Kharr looked appreciative, while Zach looked shocked and Gennevera seemed disapproving. Carym shrugged, these were desperate times. What harm could a small drink do?

  Gennevera and Gefar placed their new supplies down in a makeshift circle with the companions’ backpacks. Carym joined Zach and Yag as they removed the bodies from the tunnel. When only the dead dragon remained, Carym was surprised to see his old friend stab the dead beast with his new dagger. He watched as the eyes in its skull gleamed in the cool magical light, it almost seemed annoyed. Zach was pensive, his eyes telling Carym that his mind was far away. Suddenly, Zach snapped his gaze toward Carym and gave him a withering glare. Then he retrieved his dagger and stalked away towards the tail section of the beast.

  “What are you doing, Zach?”

  “Wasp Dragon armor is nearly impenetrable to bladed weapons, as you may have noticed,” he said wryly as he began cutting away bands of the beast’s carapace. “And, it’s pretty good against magic too.”

  “But what were you doing before, with your dagger?”

  Zach gave him a penetrating look, and returned to his chore saying nothing.

  “Why the mystery, friend?” he asked wearily. That earned a sharp look.

  “Mystery? You dare ask me about mystery?” he was nearly shouting. Kharrihan cast a reproachful glance their way, this was still dangerous territory. He exhaled and continued more quietly. “What happened to you? Where did that device come from? Who is Mathonry?”

  “I deserved that,” Carym said, Zach just looked at him. “After you left us,” Carym paused to be certain Zach had heard the edge in his voice. The man gave no hint of notice. “After you left us we waited for you. We made camp and were visited by a patrol of warriors, ancient warriors. Dead warriors.”

  Zach’s face seemed to soften a bit, and he nodded as though this were not unexpected.

  “They were from the ancient Uta Milla Empire and warned us of a dire war brewing in the spirit realm. They gave us leave to pass and told us to seek the Blood Spire.

  “As we searched for clues we located the device in an old house that had been searched by troks. We brought it to a temple of Zuhr and accidentally discovered that it could be entered. That is where we met Mathonry, an immortal servant of Zuhr and my mentor.”

  Carym stopped, as if that explained everything. He was still a bit peeved at his old friend for fleeing the group, something he would never have done in the old days. But he was willing to let the man explain himself. He owed Zach that much. He owed Zach much, much more.

  Zach nodded thoughtfully and yanked a torso sized section of the carapace off, gooey entrails dangling from it. He tossed it aside and began working on another smaller section. “I, too, met a benefactor. One from beyond the grave, so to speak.”

  Carym listened to his friend as he told his tale. “I found him in the basement of a tower, a tower shaped like a dragon.” He con
tinued to remove smaller sections of the carapace and tossed them into a growing pile. A similar noise coming from the front caught Carym’s attention and he saw that the rest of the group, even Gennevera, were working at removing sections of the beast’s carapace and pincers. The Keneerie woman was working on the broken foreleg of the dragon, shaping it into what looked like a cudgel.

  “I was challenged by golems, creatures of magical creation, and I defeated them in combat. I was drawn deeper into the tower where I found my benefactor. A lich.” Zach glanced at his friend, satisfied to see the shock register. Zach smirked as he went back to his chore, and his tale. “He gave me the dagger in exchange for completing a very small request.”

  “Another quest for an ungrateful master? I thought you’d had enough of that from your friend Eriagabbyn.”

  “You know nothing!” his friend hissed. “My master is generous with his wealth and power. I have skills now. Skills far greater than I had ever thought myself capable of.”

  “What will the Spiders think of this? Will they hunt us too? Don’t we have enough trouble from those who have come hunting me? Another of the Shadowfyr’s hunters has been set upon our trail; Hessan, the Headless Rider! And I don’t know how on Llars we are going to handle him!” Carym was getting angry, and his friend’s sudden smirk only irritated him more. Suddenly he was very thirsty.

  “Let them come,” Zach growled.

  Carym left his friend, angry, and sat down by his pack and picked up the bottle of whiskey. He took a long pull and, with effort, put the bottle down. He removed his new spell book from a coat pocket and began to study it, amazed at the new techniques and Sigil constructs listed in it; his anger slipping away, replaced by his yearning for knowledge.

  As he flipped through the pages he saw spells for some very interesting effects; Firewalk, Fireball, Fist, Firewall, Firelight, Cause Heat, Call Elemental, Melt, Enflame, Burn, Empower, Armor, Shield, Sword, Firehound, Dancing Flames, Firestorm, Firesight, Flight, Repel Darkness, Blind, Call Familiar, and on it went. He was giddy as he tried to memorize the constructs, hoped he was powerful enough to cast them, and powerful enough to infuse them with the Spirit Sigil.