The Dragons' Legacy
Page 13
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An hour and a half later, the entire party is gathered on the main deck near the starboard rail. Beyond the rail are two long boats hoisted alongside the Farling; each are filled with food, tents, armor, and an assortment of bows and close quarter weapons for Cornar’s men.
The crew lowers the long boats, then the mages, warriors, and the descend into the vessels by way of rope netting. Once in the boats, the warriors push them away from the ship and row ashore, while those left behind on the Farling quietly watch.
In one of the boats, Cornar barks his orders as they near the sandy surf, “When we land, grab the nearest supplies and provisions then pile them on the beach. Hagen divide the supplies accordingly!”
As the long boats break upon the surf, the warriors, mages and thieves disembark the vessels from their bow, each carrying supplies. One by one the members of the expedition drop the provisions and supplies in a cluster several phineals past the surf; once relieved, they return to the vessels and continue to unload them.
Amid the unloading, Iltar climbs out of the second boat with only a small brown pack at his side. The necromancer walks along the beach and past Hagen who is dividing the supplies.
Iltar removes the map of the island from within his pack and studies the area surrounding the bay. As he looks at the cartography a dotted line appears, running from the beach towards the mountains. Once inland, the line turns due north. Iltar shakes his head, and the line disappears.
Watching, Igan steps up next to his long-time friend and looks at the partially opened map. He then looks forward into the dense tropical forest beyond the shore and speaks, “Well, we’re here. Do you care to elaborate on what the plan is?”
Looking around at the group still gathering the supplies together, Iltar whispers, “Grab the other mages.”
Igan turns and lets out a whistle while Iltar walks toward the tree line, still clutching the map in his hands.
Once several phineals away, Iltar turns around and waits for the other four mages to join him. Hagen is last, having traded positions with Lorith in portioning out the rest of the cargo.
With each of them gathered around, Iltar takes in a deep breath, “It’s finally time to let the four of you in on this mission. I don’t trust Kenard’s new deckhands, and I couldn’t tell any of you in Soroth, in case they were watching.” Iltar says the last with sincerity. Alacor’s predecessor had spied on other council members in the past and Iltar’s friends knew it.
“Prior to the acolytes' rebellion a matter of great importance came to the council’s attention: knowledge of an ancient artifact had been uncovered. In fact it was Cornar and Krindal who unearthed the information.” He nods his head at the warrior in the distance. “However, we’re not here on the council’s errand.”
“Intriguing,” Amendal strokes his neatly trimmed gray beard.
“So the artifact is here?” Hex asks flatly, skeptically motioning to the island.
“A piece of it. There are two locations noted, but this was the nearest to us. I hope that we’ll find some answers to its mystery,” Iltar says earnestly. “Then we will know exactly where to look.”
“What sort of artifact are we talking about?” Igan queries. “You mentioned there were dragons here.”
“Dragons?” Hex’s eyes widen.
“Possibly,” Iltar concedes. “It’s something that turned the tide of the ancient war between the three great races of our world.” Iltar eyes each of them before continuing. “We are looking for an amulet and a ruby. Combined, their power controlled red dragons and enabled the wearer to exercise complete dominion over them.”
“You’re kidding,” Hex snorts with derision, “Iltar, have you lost your mind?”
“He’s even worse than Amendal!” Hagen agrees, shaking his head.
“No one is worse than me!” the old conjurer retorts with a flare of jealousy.
“So, there are dragons and artifacts here?” Igan asks seriously. “Is this where they went all those years ago?”
“That I don’t know, but this is a tomb,” Iltar plays the scholar. “I know that for certain. The elven map, that was discovered, and the scroll with it, identified this place as the dragon’s burial grounds. What that entails exactly, we’ll soon find out.
“But it’s not just the amulet we’re after; the scrolls explained how that fabled war ended. Exile to other worlds; the red dragons were sent to the stars. Another reason we’re here is to find out what we can concerning a magical stone that can open a portal to another world.”
“Iltar,” Hagen interrupts, stepping closer. “What have you been drinking? Because I want some!” the illusionist bursts into laughter, drawing the others’ attention across the sandy beach.
Hagen quells his laughter then says, “There are no red dragons here, nor anywhere on Kalda. Every breed is said to be extinct except perhaps the platinums, but even they are said to be gone.”
The three other mages look at Hagen with annoyance. Their faces show that they’re receptive to Iltar’s belief in the story, though it seems farfetched for them.
“So, what does the council want with this… artifact?” Amendal asks, motioning with his hands.
“Well, Alacor wants the amulet for his own reasons. Most likely political in nature. We all know that man doesn’t value relics or true power,” Iltar continues with disgust, “There’s no telling what he would do with it. The other members I’m sure have their own ambitions.”
“If that menthak gets it he’ll destroy more than just our precious Order!” Amendal shouts with strong disgust, flailing his hands in the air while growling, “Why did you have to save him Iltar?!”
“Quiet, Amendal,” Iltar motions an opened hand toward the old conjurer.
“What are your intentions, Iltar?” Hex asks solemnly.
“I intend to get it before they do. You all know me. Of course I crave power, but am I always selfish with it?”
The mages each shake their heads and Iltar continues explaining the council’s fictitious plan, “Alacor would most likely bring the dragons to our world and destroy it, shifting every which way. Turning on his allies when he sees a gain, and then saving those who were his enemies just moments beforehand. That unsteadiness will only do irreversible damage.
“Order, stability, consistency. If someone were to have that power they need to exercise those qualities.”
“Iltar, what do we get out of it for helping you?” Igan asks as he folds his arms. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t help you.”
“Straight to the point as always, Igan,” Iltar smiles. “I’m not thinking of the trite isles of Kalda. There has to be other worlds out there. Who knows that the lights in the sky are not some distant planets with vast cultures and civilizations.”
Returning his gaze from the sky, Iltar looks at each of them and solemnly, “Do you want to rule a world?”
“Twisted… and generous,” Amendal remarks with a cackle.
“I can’t be on every world at once,” Iltar says, matter-of-factly.
“Well, that is a tall order…” Hex gapes “But you’ve never let us down in the past.”
The others nod their heads in agreement.
“So the acolyte’s story was a farce?” Hagen asks with a bobbling motion of his head.
“Not quite,” Iltar scratches his cheek. “The council sent me out to find acolytes, but they are also planning an expedition here. The other members could have already sent their own groups of men ahead.” He glances to the warriors. “No matter, though, we can discuss this later; we need to focus on the task at hand before we can plan our kingdoms. Seems our companions are ready.”
The partial truth was enough to settle Iltar’s mind. Using the council as he did served to his advantage if things were to go awry. He knew the mages with him would back him to death before letting Alacor or any other members of the Order’s council gain control over the amulet.
Once everyone is together, Cornar addresses the expedition in a raised voice.
“We don’t know exactly what is on this island, but we need to reach those mountains,” the warrior points to the peaks just over the tree line. “A credible source hints at a cave at the base, somewhere in the center of the rocky range. Since there are probably no trails or paths, we will need to carve our own.”
“Aren’t you worried about more indigenous wildlife ambushing us?” a slim but muscular warriors asks from the crowd. His brown eyes look worried, but he stands firm. He cocks his head awaiting an answer, and his wavy brown hair bounces. Experience over the last decade, and Cornar’s tutelage has instilled a healthy sense of danger.
“Paranoid, Nordal?” Tilthan jests from the edge of the group with a chuckle.
“I highly doubt any animals or other creatures are here,” Iltar interrupts.
“We are not likely to encounter anything until we pass the mountains,” Cornar cautions his men while looking at Iltar. “Kalder, lead the way. Spread out five men abreast and cut a path through the forest.”
The small band of men walk past Cornar and into the tropical forest. Trees sparsely line the beach, thirty phineals away from the waters lightly crashing tide, allowing the men to step through into the much denser foliage.
As Cornar and his men file into the tropical forest, the thieves gather their packs, saving the lightest of the supplies for themselves. The leader of the small band, Tilthan, grabs the lightest of them all. Slinging the pack over his left shoulder he swaggers across the sandy beach.
“This is perfect, like paradise here,” the master thief comments on the scene.
“Yea… and the prison of the damned to the west as your neighbor,” Nath responds to his friend’s comments with a laugh, pointing to the crags.
“Damn you! Why do you have to stifle my daydreams…?”
Hearing the conversation, Iltar turns to the two chatting thieves and glares, fierce enough to pierce their souls; however, Nath is the only one to glimpse the necromancer’s eyes and quickly turns, lowering his head.
Tilthan ignorantly continues forward and jestingly supervises Cornar’s men, placing his hands on his hips. The thief stands behind Nordal who is several steps ahead of him, clearing the forest floor.
“Doing good, Nordal,” Tilthan calls out from his cocky pose. “Keep swinging that blade.”
As he speaks, a tingling sensation creeps along the thief’s neck. He cocks his head and notices Iltar walking towards him. Tilthan freezes for a moment and attempts to straighten his back and look busy.
“Get to work, I’m not hiring you to admire the view,” Iltar snaps.
“Yes, sir!” Tilthan swallows tightly as Iltar moves past him. Once the necromancer is ahead of him, the thief rolls his eyes and steps into the trees whispering, “The things I do for gold…”