Into Vushaar

by Robert M Kerns

  “We have to leave here...right now,” Kiri said, backing her horse away from the ruined castle.

  Everyone stopped and turned to face her.

  Gavin was the first to speak, asking, “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re no longer in Vushaar. For that matter, where we camped probably isn’t either.”

  Gavin glanced at the others before resuming his focus on Kiri. “Kiri, how could we no longer be in Vushaar? We’re almost in the center of your country.”

  “I don’t know when it started, but in records dating as far back as three thousand years, the Vushaari crown has recognized a three-league area centered on a ruined keep as sovereign, foreign soil. Roads pass through the territory, and travelers, traders, and such aren’t molested. But bandits never survive nor does anyone who enters the keep. This is that keep. I recognize the script on the gatehouse from an artist’s rendition I saw in a book back home.”

  Before anyone else could speak, a Conjuration effect washed over them. Gavin could tell that, while the effect was focused on them, it originated somewhere else.

  “Hello, there,” a disembodied voice said. “You’ve been standing at my gatehouse for quite some time, and I thought I’d extend an invitation. I’m rather busy at the moment, so I’ve not bothered with a scrying yet, but I’d really like to know whether you’re bandits, raiders, or simply travelers. Besides, you have some wizards stronger than I’ve met in quite some time. I’d enjoy a conversation...if I end up not killing you after all. Oh...and please, don’t run. You wouldn’t reach Vushaari territory before I’d catch you, and chasing bandits down for extermination is so bothersome.”

  Everyone turned to Gavin as the young wizard regarded the keep a short distance beyond the gatehouse. He sat atop Jasmine, his expression and mannerisms resigned.

  “Well, that tears it,” Gavin said at last, a sigh following his words. “Sarres, take point, if you please, and Mariana, please join him. Sarres, watch for physical traps; Mariana, magical traps. Declan, please assume rear guard. Kiri, I want you in the center of the formation, and I would like Braden, Wynn, and Elayna with you. Lillian, now that I’m thinking about it, be on rear guard with Declan.”

  Gavin nudged Jasmine to a walk and led the group to the steps of the keep. Hitching rails stood on either side of the keep steps, and Gavin looped the reins around the left rail after dismounting.

  Once everyone had dismounted and secured their horses, Sarres and Mariana led the way into the keep. The doors themselves were in obvious disrepair. The door that was still on its hinges had large gaping holes, but at least the one lying against the wall was still in good condition...as long as one overlooked the absence of hinges.

  Remnants of furniture, carpets, and decorations lay strewn hither and yon, and the group’s entrance into the keep startled a roosting flock of birds into flight. Sarres and Mariana led the group toward a staircase only to find that the first dozen feet of said staircase were all that remained.

  “Okay,” Gavin said. “I’m not liking this at all. Hold here for a moment, everyone.”

  Gavin stepped back and cleared all thoughts from his mind as Marcus had taught him all those months ago. The effect he wanted to achieve could not be done with one Word alone, which necessitated a composite effect. He carefully chose the two Words he would use, and having focused on his intent, he spoke those Words, “Nysphaes-Gozdrahk.”

  The invocation hit Gavin square in his guts, but a fierce grimace was the only outward sign of his pain.

  “Well now...isn’t that a surprise,” the disembodied voice said once more. “I’ve not felt that family’s mastery of the Art since last I stood with my old friend, Amdar. Directly across from the keep’s entrance, you will find a hidden access to a staircase leading down. I shall be cautiously optimistic, young wizard, and disable the stairs’ traps. I very much want to meet you now.”

  Gavin couldn’t keep from lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he shook his head, saying, “I know just as much as you guys about what’s going on, or who’s on the other end of that voice. I’m still not sure we should trust it.”

  “What was it that you did?” Mariana asked. “That didn’t feel like a normal invocation.”

  Gavin shook his head. “It was a composite effect of Tutation and Conjuration. The Tutation effect provides better than average protection against magic, and the Conjuration effect basically created an invisible shroud of armor around us. We have about an hour before this effect dissipates.”

  “Then, we should not waste time,” Declan said, as he turned and headed toward the opening in the wall. Gavin and the others followed.

  Chapter 16

  The stone staircase circled downward for an interminably long time. The stones were precisely shaped to follow the curvature of the staircase, but unlike the masonry of Tel Mivar, these stones showed indications of mortar. The staircase as a whole was well lit, but the light had no apparent source; the wizards of the group recognized a Conjuration effect permeating the staircase.

  The doorway at the bottom opened into a well-appointed cavern, divided into sections based on the purpose of the space. The cavern was comfortably cool, though not as damp as one might have expected. Plush carpets lined the floor, and they stood at the edge of a sitting room.

  An individual arose from one of the armchairs that faced the hearth in the sitting area and walked closer to the group. It looked like nothing other than a long-desiccated corpse. There was no flesh or muscle around the skull, and two pinpoints of orange light blazed in the skull’s eye sockets. What flesh remained was dry and cracked, but there was next to no flesh at all.

  “Ah, hello there!” the individual said during the approach. The speech was accented by an eerie clacking of teeth. “I must say, Young Kirloth, I was not expecting one of your House at all. Why, I wasn’t even aware any youngsters of your House remained in Drakmoor.”

  The voice was decidedly masculine, even though there remained no visible way of discerning to what gender this individual had once been born.

  “Gavin,” Mariana said, her voice laced with fear and awe, “what is he?”

  “Ah, Lady Cothos,” the individual said, “I would expect you of all people to recognize me. I’m somewhat disappointed that you don’t.” He turned to face Gavin. “So, young man, I’m curious to hear how you shall answer your comrade’s question.”

  Gavin’s expression was thoughtful and analyzing. He folded one arm across his midriff, while placing the fingers of his other hand against his lips. “You said you’ve stood in the presence of my family’s power before, and you know the House Glyphs. Kiri said the Vushaari crown regards the territory three leagues in every direction centered on this keep as sovereign, foreign soil, and I’ve never before seen the script carved into the stone of the gatehouse. You must be Othron; there’s no one else you really could be, not with your...well...your distinctive appearance.”

  The individual clapped his hands together. “Excellent, Young Kirloth! It’s very good to meet you. I am indeed Othron. You know, if you ever make it to Tel Mivar, you should visit a man the locals call Marcus. He’s a kinsman of yours, and I’m sure he would appreciate meeting you.”

  Gavin’s expression fell just a bit. “Sir, Marcus trained me in the Art, and I’m sorry to inform you that he died a few months ago.”

  Othron’s shoulders slumped. “K...my old friend is dead? How did it happen?”

  “I don’t have all the details, but from what I do know, he was confronted by two deqs of the Lornithrasa. They were apparently looking for me, though I can’t imagine why, and killed Marcus when he refused to lead them to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lillian said, her voice quiet, “but I’m having trouble placing the name.”

  Elayna said, “Othron was a contemporary of Kirloth and Bellos. A knowledgeable wizard strong in the Art, he is widely debated as the equal to Kirloth in mastery, if not better.”

  “Bah!” Othron said. “I was never Amdar’s better i
n terms of the Art, not even his equal. He lived, breathed, ate, and slept the Art; I merely used it. But, we’ve carried on so.” Othron gestured toward a sitting area with several armchairs and a sofa or two. The upholstery's fashion was long out-of-date, but the furniture looked as though it hadn't aged a day. “Please, make yourselves comfortable, and we'll proceed with the introductions.”

  Once seated, Gavin introduced his friends, saving Kiri for last.

  “Well, well, well,” Othron said, lounging in a green velvet armchair, “you're quite some distance from home, Your Highness, and I must say you picked a rather dicey time to return. Surely, Terris wanted you safely away from all this nonsense.”

  Kiri nodded. “He sent me to Tel, but my ship was lost at sea. I’ve spent the last two years as a slave.”

  “That’s very unfortunate. My apologies, Your Highness,” Othron said. “I have beds available, and I don't use them myself. I'm not exactly one for sleeping all that much anymore. You're quite welcome to spend the night here, rather than at that rocky road-side camp.”

  Gavin started to decline politely, but the dreamy expressions on the ladies' faces at the mention of an honest-to-goodness bed changed his mind. “Why, thank you, Othron. We'll be glad to accept your hospitality...just as soon as we see to our horses in the courtyard.”

  Othron dismissed the matter with a wave. “Don't worry about that. My spectral servants can see to them.”

  Othron rose to his feet and led them to the sleeping areas. As they walked, Othron asked Gavin to stay up just a bit longer, to which Gavin agreed.

  Once everyone else was safely tucked away in their own rooms, Othron led Gavin to the library. That room in the cavern was easily sixty feet by sixty, filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves, and they were full for the most part.

  “This is impressive,” Gavin said as Othron led him over to a reading area, “but I get the feeling it's not why you asked to continue our conversation.”

  Othron shook his head. “Oh, no. I didn't want to alarm any of the others, but I've been hearing whispers, for decades now, that the Necromancer is finally preparing to move. I know for a fact that Marcus was the last of his line in this world, but here you are, a true-born son of House Kirloth. Now, one of my old friend's brothers is accounted for...Marin. He stands within the ranks of the divine, but Marin was the youngest and Amdar the eldest. Oh, Amdar was Kirloth's given name, by the way. I don't know if he ever told you.

  “The middle brother, Gerrus, had a wife and children when the Godswar erupted, and he had no desire to run off to war. When Valthon and Nesta gathered the refugees wanting to flee this world and the war, Gerrus took his family and joined them. Amdar never forgave Gerrus for what he saw as abandonment and betrayal. I would bet my soul jar you descended from Gerrus's line; it's the only thing that makes sense.”

  “In that case, how did I end up in this world?”

  Othron shrugged. “I think the gods have a plan for you, and I think that plan involves the siege of Vushaar. The old alliance is preparing to go to war against the King of Tel. I can't blame them, honestly; the man's an unmitigated ass. However, that war will weaken the forces of everyone involved. The Necromancer already has Tel; the king yips when he says 'bark.' The Necromancer is now trying to gain control of Vushaar. If that happens, war will be inevitable, and the old alliance will be too weak to defend ourselves when the armies of Lornithar march through Hope's Pass.”

  “Why would they do that after all this time?” Gavin asked. “I could see them invading within the first century or so, but it's been six thousand years.”

  “For all his shortcomings, Lornithar is no fool. He's not about to start a fresh war until he's certain he can win. To even have a chance, he must locate and destroy the foundation artifacts of his prison, and to the best of my knowledge, there is only one account of the meeting that decided where those artifacts would rest.”

  Gavin sighed and leaned against a book case. “Let me guess...it's in the Royal Archives of Vushaar.”

  “Just so.”

  “Ivarson, then, is working for the Necromancer...who is in turn working for Lornithar?”

  Othron shrugged as he walked over to a nearby bookshelf. “I doubt we're lucky enough for matters to be so straight-forward, but I do know for certain General Ivarson is the Necromancer's pawn. The Necromancer sent five wizards to bolster the man's siege force. I don't know if they've arrived as of yet, but they will within the month.” Othron turned his attention to the bookshelf, scanning the spines. “Ah, here we go.”

  Othron pulled three tomes from the shelf and turned to Gavin, extending the books to him. “These were placed in my care by your mentor more years ago than I like to remember. As you are his heir, they now belong to you. I fear you will have need of them before this matter is settled.”

  Gavin accepted the books and examined the covers. Two were bound in unmarked, brown leather, but gold leather bound the third.

  “What are these?” Gavin asked.

  “The gold leather volume is Bellos's work to catalog all known Words of Power just prior to the eruption of the Godswar. The other two are experimentation journals that record Kirloth's work on composite effects and wizardry on the battlefield.”

  “Thank you,” Gavin said as he shifted the books to a better grip.

  “You're quite welcome,” Othron said, turning to lead Gavin back out of the library. “Unlike me, you still need to sleep, and I imagine I've cost you enough of yours. Let me show you to your bed.”

  The next morning, Othron saw them off from the steps of the keep. The horses appeared as though they had been well cared-for and seemed thoroughly rested. Their first stop was what would've been their camp for the night. Gavin collapsed the wards and collected the ward-stones while everyone gathered what items they'd left inside the wards. Once the ward-stones were safely distributed between his saddlebags, Gavin sat on a felled log and pulled out the map of Vushaar and the compass, looking it over while the others finished collecting their belongings.

  “What do you think?” Declan asked, sitting down beside Gavin.

  Gavin sighed. “Well, we're just about due east of the capital. We could start angling south-southwest, but if I'm reading this map right, the trails we want don't open up until the southern edge of the Sarnath Hills. I think we should make our course about three points west of due south; that should put us right at the southern end of those trails. How long do you think it'll take us to reach the hills?”

  “Well, we've been making about thirteen to fifteen leagues per day, and given where we are, I'd say we're looking at one and a half to two weeks.”

  “Just what we need...more time to be discovered. Well, there's no help for it, I suppose.”

  The others signaled ready to depart, and Gavin rolled up the map before returning it to the map case and then both the case and the compass to his left saddlebag. He hauled himself into the saddle, and once everyone was mounted, Gavin nudged Jasmine up to a trot.

  They were six days out from Othron's keep, and they were making camp beside a brook that wandered through the wooded, rolling hills of that region. Gavin set up the ward-stones and activated the wards straight-away before busying himself with helping to make the camp live-able. After dinner, Gavin and the wizards broke off for another study session. Declan and the elves were playing quiet tunes and humming to them.

  Off by herself, Kiri sat wrapping her hair around a finger. For several days now, even before meeting Othron, Gavin was occupying an increasingly greater amount of her attention. She noticed that she smiled more often when she thought of him, and as she looked back on a conversation with her aunt a few years back, she feared where her emotions were dragging her. She needed to think, needed to walk her thoughts out. The others were so focused on their respective tasks, none of them noticed her leaving camp.

  Hours passed. The study session ran long, but they were being so productive Gavin hadn't wanted to stop. Besides, the elves and Declan had managed
to entertain each other during the extra time.

  “Has anyone seen Kiri?” Gavin asked, looking around the camp.

  “She was here not too long ago,” Mariana said, now looking around herself.

  Lillian walked over to Gavin and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn't worry about her, Gavin. She's had some stuff on her mind, and she'll be fine as long as she stays inside the wards.”

  “Shall I go find her?” Sarres asked as he walked up to Gavin and Lillian.

  Every fiber of his being shouted for Gavin to say yes, but he wasn't exactly rational where Kiri was concerned anymore.

  Gavin walked over to the ward-stones that formed the fire circle. He walked around the stones until he found the one he wanted, then knelt and touched it. He spoke Kiri's name and waited a few heartbeats.

  “She's still inside the wards,” Gavin said as he returned to his feet. “Let's not interfere. Besides, she knows how far the wards extend, and I'm willing to trust her judgment.”

  It was a calm, pleasant morning that was swiftly approaching noon. Birds chirped in the distance, and the slight breeze carried the scent of the pine trees all around them.

  “So, who’s going to wake him?” Mariana asked, her eyes on Gavin’s sleeping form.

  “Don’t look at me,” Wynn said, emphatically shaking his head. “Braden, you can do it.”

  Braden lifted his hands and backed away. “Not a chance. Lillian, you’ve known him the longest, and he likes you.”

  A short distance away, the elves and Declan watched the wizards’ discussion with a certain amount of amusement. The situation overall was not funny in the least, but nonetheless, observing the wizards’ impromptu game of hot potato provided some slight entertainment.

  Declan pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the quartet, saying in a soft voice just loud enough to be heard, “If you four don’t quiet down, the question of who wakes him will be rather moot.”