- We are no match for him, Master, said the Mage Tohn-Mâ, we should flee to the city of Moprem, to the great tower!
- Agreed, the white magician answered.
They walked through the portal and were sucked into a shining cyclone. At the sight of this unexpected event, the necromancer shouted "No! That's impossible!" In fury, he casted blood colored acid across the room, melting the few servants left alive. The master of darkness grabbed his staff and left the great hall enraged.
A few seconds later, the group landed abruptly at the top of the tower of Moprem, fiefdom of the Mage Tohn-Mâ, scaring the men standing guard.
- We escaped! Kenthaë announced after getting up. “We came close to being executed.”
- Indeed, replied Mage Donnhum, "we came, as soon as the Oracle warned us of the situation, we could not stand idly by.”
- And we thank you for it, added Artemion, who lay on the ground. Guards came to his aid.
- I don't understand why this young paladin was seduced by the darkness, asked Mage Tohn-Mâ sitting at his desk, fingers twisting in his long beard.
The influence of the necromancer and the Count is strong, told the magician of Varnum, his spies hide in every village, searching lost souls and sadly Hâan was one of them. But thanks to Carhâa, it was not in vain, the powerful Relic of Faln-Lannar was saved...
- Master, confessed the young woman, certainly the Relic is in our possession but I fear that we are missing an equally powerful object...
- What are you saying, my friend? Kenthaë wondered.
- My medallion, I could not get it back.
The magicians looked at each other, thoughtful, what damage could he cause? Mage Donnhum sent messenger birds of Dartohn to each of the neighboring kingdoms to spread the news and request for help. It was necessary to continue the young Gerioh’s training, Doltha and their new friends, the three Warriors of Good would be well suited to help.
Chapter Fifteen
Unavoidable war
A terrible war was being prepared in the western lands, ravaged by the nevrigian’s vengeance. Long black smoke could be seen piercing the clouds, spat out by awful chimneys of the great fortress of Shâltara. An unnamed evil was foretold in the confines of the citadel, agitation was palpable many miles around, crimson lands along the Swamps of Zhalnor prepared for confrontation.
Kenthaë and Carhâa stood on a flowery balcony at the top of the tower of Moprem, he looked into distance and said:
- Something is happening in the West, the sky has never been so dark.
- Indeed, my friend, confided the young woman, “the loss of the medallion implies a new path in our destiny, the sending of the birds of Dartohn and the requests to the kings do not bode well.”
- We have to prepare ourselves for the inevitable, my friend, his gaze lost in the sunset light.
In a corner of the main infirmary of the city, Doltha and Gerioh watched over Artemion like two close relatives, his well-deserved rest will allow him to regain his full vitality at last. The Mage Tohn-Mâ, watching the scene, sat on one of the stools and said:
- His time will come, but not today my young friends.
- Thanks to him we can defeat the necromancer and his army! Said Gerioh.
- No hurry young rider, there are dark hours that we will have to face, the services of a warrior as powerful as Artemion will be essential and when he has recovered his strength, you can train with him.
- I can't wait, Doltha confessed, "Gerioh needs someone who handles the sword better than I!”
- Much like your spells, added the Mage, “you will draw from Vahl-Alâna's grimoire and you will become much more precise in your gestures.”
The young paladin looked at his hammer then stared at Gerioh. He sketched a smile and brandished his flaming knocker in his direction. He cried out "Brothers in arms!" The horseman answered back; "Brothers in arms!" while proudly grabbing the sword of Gälnara. Both shared a common destiny, the scope of their future actions in the Mandrares Lands was unknown to them.
Throughout the Kingdom of Fahl, the first snowflakes began to whiten the green meadows already weakened by the anticipated winter. Some of the birds of Dartohn had returned, solidifying an alliance against the black fortress.
The Mage Donnhum nervously harnessed his horse and set off for Galnor, to seek his friend King Berum. The sky had darkened; the necromancer could no longer be ignored. The fate of the Mandrares Lands rested in the hands of his young disciples, whom the great magician hoped to be brave enough to end this torment.
End
of
Volume 1
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The Chronicles of Hissfon Volume 1 - The five Mages Page 6