The Secrets of Starellion- the Court of Lincoln Hart

by Ember Lane

  At the last minute, just before it vanished, Crags bundled back through, shoving another with him. They rolled toward Lincoln, coming to rest at his feet. Crags looked up.

  “May I present Thadius Hawkwind?”

  20

  The Master of Portals

  A deluge of notifications cascaded down Lincoln’s vision.

  Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill Dodge. You are now level 2.

  Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill Dodge. You are now level 3.

  Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill Dodge. You are now level 4.

  Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill Dodge. You are now level 5.

  Congratulations. You used your sword like a master. You are now level 9.

  Congratulations. You are have leveled up Blades. One more level and you will reach your skill cap.

  You vanquished goblin, and you helped fell a graveling. You are awarded 14000/7XP as a group reward.

  Congratulations, you have completed the quest Cleanse Starellion. You have rid it of its echoes and emptied its bowels of the graveling and goblin hordes. You are rewarded 3000XP. You may grant stewardship to the great castle. The throne of the ancients is now yours to sit on. Only the one who sits on its throne may rule the Nine Kingdoms of Mandrake. That is now yours by right, but the enforcement of its reach is your task. As rightful ruler of those lands, you are granted the right to use its banner as your own. Do you accept that honor? Y/N

  The weight of the words swimming around his mind forced Lincoln to his knees.

  “I do,” he said, as torch after torch flickered into life all the way down the hall.

  Lincoln looked up, realizing he was kneeling at the foot of the throne—his throne. Behind it, a great banner now covered the gray wall. An emerald cross on a white background, a red dragon rearing in its center, and Lincoln knew it was Darwainic’s standard—his standard.

  Starellion was forged from the sweat of the ancients. It is a great boon and a great responsibility. Choose your steward wisely. You may allot seven protectors, and each shall hold a seat at this table. Once allocated, and once Starellion reaches the required level, your minds will be inextricably linked, your voices heard on the wind. Much lore has been lost, but know this, Estorelll, Starellion, and Zybond were linked by them. Discover their mystery and travel between them is possible, as it is between other blessed sites.

  The banners of The Nine Lords of Irydia hangs in this hall. It is the quest of the keeper of the throne to add the eight banners of the known lands of Mandrake to those. Those lands are named: Apachalant, Atremeny, Beggle, Carmeyour, Karaktor, Kobane, Petreyer, Shyantium, and Tharameer. Do you accept the quest? Y/N

  Lincoln accepted, a ball of anxiety gathering in his stomach. Looking up, looking at the great throne, he suddenly felt drawn to it, like it called to him, and he rose slowly, deliberately, crept toward it, turning and sitting.

  The grind of stone sounded as the hall of banners repaired itself. A bright light burst from its end, and Lincoln saw that a large, arched window sat above the great oaken doors that he’d only recently been thrown against. He saw the banners that lined the great hall, a sky-blue one with a sea serpent adorning its center. Another was checked green and brown, a leaf and a fort depicted in two of the squares. A third was crimson and ochre, and Lincoln knew that to be Muscat and Brokenford’s standard. He could see a fourth too, its colors black and white, but each was now separated from the next by the emerald-and-white dragon standard—his standard. The rest merged into a blur of vibrant color, reaching to the newly illuminated entrance.

  Lincoln watched, filled with awe and confusion as the great, oaken doors swung inward, and the hall was bathed in true light, sunlight, and his valley, his Sanctuary, and his people looked in, Allaise at their forefront. The half-elf burst forward, running toward Lincoln, but the land hadn’t finished with him yet.

  The ownership of Starellion significantly increases your worth. It alone is beyond level. Barakdor awards you 10,000 XP. The castle has been added to your settlements, and it is considered a Historic City. You have been awarded a city token with the stamp of Estorelll. Use this coin by the Fount of Lamerell, in the Square of Fives, and Estorelll will wake. The city token will only activate once the city’s curse has been lifted. Do you accept the quest—Wake Estorelll?

  Lincoln nodded, accepting the quest. Allaise stopped at the bottom of the dais. Lincoln saw that Gimble and Ozmic had joined her. She seemed confused.

  Congratulations! Your XP has exceeded 20,000. You have leveled up. You are now level 9. You have 12 unallocated Attribute points.

  Congratulations! Your XP has exceeded 25,000. You have leveled up. You are now level 10. You have 18 unallocated Attribute points.

  Congratulations! You are now ruler in name of the Lands of Mandrake. Your profession is changed to Emperor. Your reputation is distinguished all the while it is considered so by your subjects.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 10. Usually, you can choose your profession at level 10, but that choice has already been made for you, and you must live or die by it. As emperor you are granted access to the Delegation Skill Tree. You may name a lord or steward for each of your charges: Joan’s Creek, Sanctuary, and Starellion. Those lords or stewards will have use of the Attribute benefits enjoyed by their emperor. Each will answer to The Council of Seven in your absence. Each settlement guide will answer to the lord/steward in your absence. As your choice of profession has been denied to you, you may choose one skill, and one alone. Once chosen, this skill will automatically reach its maximum, but you will not know what that maximum is until you choose. The skill cannot be a skill you already have. You have two days to choose. Do you understand? Y/N

  Lincoln chose yes. He looked at Allaise again, and saw she was beaming up at him, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

  You have exceeded 30,000 XP. You have leveled up. You are now level 11. You have 24 unallocated Attribute points.

  He felt a familiar glow in his stomach, a warm glow that flooded through him. He saw a beam of coppery light burst from him, strong light, much brighter than before. Griselda held her hand up, sheltering her eyes. The light fanned out and surrounded him in its glow. He rose up, out of his throne, high into the air until he was level with the dragon in the center of the emerald-and-white banner behind. Lincoln held his arms out, reveling in the complete euphoria of the triple leveling. He heard a roar behind him and felt hot breath on his neck. A pair of scaly, crimson wings wrapped around him, and two funnels of flame burst out either side of him. The flames receded. The wings withdrew, and Lincoln fell back onto the throne. He saw the hall was completely full, the pews restored, and he saw the upturned faces were filled with wonder.

  “Who’s for an ale?” he shouted, and a great cheer went up.

  Allaise bounded up to him, jumping on him, hugging him.

  “I was so worried,” she cried. “You’d been gone a two nights and a day. I was waiting by the shaft when I heard it.”

  “Heard what?” he said, stroking her hair.

  “A cheer, a cheer sounded out from Sanctuary. Lincoln, you’ve never heard anything like it. I ran to the bridge, down it, along it, and saw the whole village pointing. Looking around, I saw, and I knew you were safe.”

  “Saw what?”

  “Starellion, all the leaves, the vines, everything, gone. The castle gleams; it shines bright, Lincoln. It’s like new.” She buried her head in his shoulders and sobbed for a while. Lincoln saw that most of his…subjects…were milling around, and he briefly wondered why they hadn’t gone to the tavern like he’d suggested. Perhaps he wasn’t setting a good enough example. His fears were allayed when Ozmic and Gimble bowled through the huge front doors, barrels on their shoulders, and another cheer went up. More dwarves piled in behind them, pews were upturned, tables fashioned, and the celebrations began.

  Exhaustion ran riot throughout his body, tiredness washed over him. If
Allaise was right, he’d been up for three straight days. Allaise stroked his cheek, kissed him one last time. She jumped off him, and pulled him from his throne.

  “Come on, you can sleep in a few hours. Now, we celebrate. Starellion has woken and named you king, and your people bask in your glory!”

  She was right. Now was the time for celebration, and so he joined the throng. Griselda was already in the thick of it, Crags too, and he noticed the mysterious Thadius Hawkwind, Master of Portals, and Lincoln wondered how he knew the gnome’s title.

  Jin clapped an arm around him, and Allaise and the dark elf snuck Lincoln through the doors and out into the sun. Pete had already set up a bunch of trestle tables, and the tired builder sat at one. Cronis, Swift, and Belzarra sat with them. They looked at one another as Allaise served them ales, and Pete brought them food. Griselda slumped down on the grass right by them. Crags and Thadius Hawkwind ambled out, and Lincoln suddenly remembered Pog. He ushered the gnome over. They both sat opposite him.

  “I believe you two have some secrets that need spilling.”

  Thadius looked at Crags, and Crags shrugged.

  “Are you sure about him?” Thadius asked.

  “Not seen him do a damn thing for his own gain yet.”

  Thadius considered Crags's response. “Then fine—he gets to know. What about these others?”

  “Couldn’t have rescued you without them.”

  Thadius nodded, gravely, and reached into his jacket pocket to bring out a pair of round spectacles. He quickly cleaned them with his handkerchief and popped them on his red-veined, bulbous nose. Lincoln studied the gnome while he waited for him to begin. For a gnome—indeed for anyone in this land, he looked both distinguished and gentlemanly. Learned, summed up Thadius, from his neatly trimmed beard to his wizened eyes, if there was a profession of professor in this land, Thadius would be its keeper.

  “When Poleyna cracked the earth,” he said, as if it were an opening gambit. “She cracked more than the physical land.”

  Thadius let his words hang there, and Lincoln was unsure whether to clap or not. He said, “Go on,” instead. “Though I’m particularly interested in Pog.”

  “Pog,” Thadius repeated. “Yes, he is the architect, though I think he takes his advice from a much higher cause. In short, in cracking the world, Poleyna cracked all the portals. Portals were a way for…certain…powerful folks to move around the land. How else was it supposed to progress—even function?”

  “Can they be repaired?” Lincoln asked.

  Thadius chuckled. “By their very nature, they repair themselves. So, a portal here that was linked to say one in Estorelll will, over time, find its…mate…its pair, so to speak, and that is what has been happening.”

  “Except…”

  “Well, having studied portals all my life, I found their temporary disruption both horrific and intriguing. Of course, my own portal in Shabbletown was affected as well, and quite the problem it caused too. Have you ever been to Shabbletown?” Thadius looked over the rim of his spectacles.

  Lincoln found the gnome’s piercing gaze quite unnerving and stared at his mug instead. “No.”

  “Well it’s quite remote. One path in, one path out, same path, you understand.” Thadius grinned. “Yes, er, well yes. So, with the portal broken, we had no clue when it would fix itself.”

  “Where did your portal lead to?” Lincoln asked, wondering if the gnomes had always had a chaos portal.

  “Ours? Ours was fortunate enough to open right under Shyantium, in the bowels of The Temple of the One True God—a great place to wreak havoc from. I think that’s what gave gnomes such a bad name. Trouble was, it didn’t seem to be able to pair up again. Then Digberts found that our portal’s end was attracted to shiny things, magic, treasure and the like. So, I modified it…”

  “Modified?” Lincoln asked, now quite intrigued.

  “Well, we worked out that if you loaded up a bunch of gnomes and harpies into the portal, it would weigh its end down. The portal would constantly search for its pair, but also be attracted to gold, silver, and magic—as if those gave off the closest scent to a real portal, and that got me thinking…”

  “Pog?” Lincoln asked, wishing the gnome would paraphrase.

  “I’m getting to it. In short, we learned how to control the portal’s destination, but spread the rumor that we were stuck in a chaos portal. The trouble was, we quite liked Shyantium, liked the easy pickings—drunk wizards are suckers. So, we decided to land close and then I would sneak into Shyantium and try to mend our portal’s pair, so to speak. That’s where I first met Pog.”

  Finally…

  Thadius cleared his throat. “For some strange reason the portal’s end was attracted to the valley little Pog was in, and, if you don’t mind me saying, what a detestable family he was with too.”

  “Detestable?”

  “The worst. Whoever placed an immortal with them must have received a nice payment.”

  Lincoln’s anger grew instantly. “Finequill,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Either way, it turned out quite fortunate—for me, anyway. I snuck into Shyantium, leaving the poor boy behind, and not for lack of asking him to accompany me, either, I might add. Anyway, an adventurer and sneak I am not, and a particularly nasty wizard called Merran soon snared me. After due discourse, he agreed to let me live as long as I showed him how the portals worked. The problem was, it didn’t.”

  He stopped and took a sip of his ale, smacking his lips together and bringing out an ornate, wooden pipe that resembled a tiny saxophone. Lincoln brought out his old, plain and simple white pipe and decided it really didn’t suit an emperor. “How does he come into all this?” Lincoln asked, stabbing his pipe’s end at Crags.

  “That…well…the portal under the Temple of the One True God sparked into life one day quite unexpectedly. When me and Pog discussed it, we decided it was about the time that he found the Stalker Stone…”

  “Stalker Stone?” Lincoln asked, but knew it was somehow linked to the Warrior.

  “Part of the…doesn’t matter. So the portal suddenly activated and was attracted to the most magical place close to Shyantium.”

  “Starellion?”

  “The place you call Joan’s Creek. The place where she destroyed the stone.”

  Those words caused every bone in Lincoln’s body to clench.

  Of course, it explains everything. The vast crater, the proximity to Starellion, the…the magic of the place...

  “And it landed right next to me,” Crags said, proudly. “For once, coincidence was my friend. Anyway, a bitta toing and froing, and Pog realized the portal was searching fer the other stone—the Warrior—and surmised it must be in Starellion. By that time, we’d near enough fine tuned the portal to come at my beck and call, so I just waited until it was safe, called the portal in, and rescued Thadius in return for the stone. A good deal—everyone’s happy.”

  “Except Pog’s trapped under the Temple of the One True God,” Lincoln pointed out.

  Before Thadius could answer, the air cracked with a thunderous explosion. Lincoln instinctively ducked, but saw Thadius and Crags looking up at the sky, both beaming with joy. “The boy’s made it,” Thadius shouted, and the sky turned crimson. “Pog’s made it.” He punched the air. Crags threw his bronze helmet high into the air and jumped onto the table.

  “I told you he would. I told you!” he shouted, dancing around, kicking over the mugs.

  “What?” shouted Lincoln, but he heard the warrior in his mind again.

  Unity is next…

  Crags leaned down, his hands on his hips. “That was his sign—his sign for her to come and get him.”

  “Who?” Lincoln shouted.

  “Alexa Drey!” Crags cried, and then Lincoln stood, staring up at the magnificent crimson sky, and he saw Cronis rise up out of his seat, his mug held high.

  “Alexa Drey!” Cronis cried.

  “What?” said Flip emerging from Starell
ion. He looked like he’d been to hell and back.

  “Alexa Drey has rescued Pog!” Lincoln cried, still marveling at the sky’s beauty.

  “Well, she wants to get back here,” Flip said. “There’s dungeons in the bowels of this place that she could do with taming.”

  21

  Morningstar

  The Emperor of Joan’s Creek, Sanctuary, and Starellion woke with a fat, pounding head, dry mouth, and a smile plastered all over his face. Somehow the thought that Pog had found Alexa Drey had made his night, his game, his current life, and that night had descended into a rebellion of alcohol-induced celebration, and when tiredness had taken him, when he was beyond exhaustion, Spillwhistle had given him a pep-up potion, and Lincoln had taken a full barrel of ale, and set off for Joan’s Creek with Allaise and Griselda. But Ozmic, Grimble, Flip, Jin, Belzarra, Cronis, Crags, and Thadius had all spied them leaving and refused to let them sneak off. They’d carried on their party in Joan’s Creek’s tavern, hailed rightfully as returning heroes.

  It was there that he’d received the notification.

  Quest complete! You have completed the quest: Get the key and note to its rightful owner. The Land of Barakdor rewards all who aid it. You are awarded 1500 XP

  And that notification confirmed to him everything he wanted to believe.