The Dragons' Legacy

by Dan Zangari & Robert Zangari

  * * * * *

  Morning light bathes the main deck of the Farling as Iltar ascends the stairs. The fresh air brings a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the lower decks.

  As he walks across the deck, Iltar’s mind turns to new thoughts, and he decides, the council is the most pressing matter for two reasons: to solidify the story told to his friends and to further ensure no meddling in his affairs; which will most likely require greater assistance and a greater force of men.

  Iltar steps to the raised forecastle, contemplating his next course of action. The members of Kenard’s crew knew to stay away from him, but his companions who would most likely be waking soon, and will undoubtedly attempt to strike up a conversation; thus, being at the front of the vessel would allow him ample time to gather his thoughts.

  Pacing back and forth along the forecastle, Iltar’s mind reflects back to his companion’s opinions voiced on the island. Amendal was very adamant about the corruption in the council. A group of necromancers had not and would not produce favorable results for the Order.

  Staring across the bowsprit of the ship, Iltar’s eyes narrow at the distant horizon, as if focusing on his island days away. Suddenly, the necromancer’s eyes widen in enlightenment.

  “I know what must be done,” Iltar mutters and a smile forms across his face, one that continues to spread until his teeth are exposed in a wide grin. His demented glee manifests in a faint chuckle, then diabolical laughter. “And I am going to enjoy it.”

  Iltar regains his stern composure and scans the main deck, wondering, Now Cor, where are you?

  Iltar had always relied on his friend to reflect his thoughts in a clearer way. The warrior’s intellect had helped Iltar throughout many occasions in the past; there was a time in particular when he needed to deal with a now-dead member of the council who had been obstinate with the newly elected necromancer. Cornar was able to look at both sides of the situation and divine a clear path forward for Iltar to take. This helped Iltar accomplish a compromise without losing face. In addition, Cornar’s experiences have cultivated a great deal of wisdom, a trait Iltar finds extremely useful, especially in this coming dilemma.

  Iltar sees his friend, sleep against a sack of beans propped up along the portside rail. The necromancer warily approaches, and then kicks the warrior’s foot, but that doesn’t rouse him. With slight hesitancy, Iltar quickly reaches down and shakes his friend’s shoulder.

  “Cor, wake up!” Iltar sternly demands and straightens up, hastily moving backwards several steps away from his friend. He knows what will happen if the warrior wakes up with someone directly in his face. A member of the City Watch did that once; Cornar was startled and struck the officer in the face, which resulted in the jumpy sleeper spending the following week in jail.

  Feeling the motion, Cornar wakes with a start. “What–Oh,” Cornar groggily shakes his head. “You need to be careful waking me up like that,” Cornar warns and rises to his feet to face his friend.

  “I stepped back,” Iltar retorts, then looks around the main deck. “I’m sorry to interrupt your nap, but we need to talk.”

  Iltar notices several deckhands within earshot and the captain at the helm above them.

  “Not here I imagine?” Cornar notices Iltar looking about the deck.

  “No, not here. Let’s go below to my cabin.” The necromancer moves toward the stairs leading to the lower deck of the vessel.

  Knowing that whatever Iltar has to say is important, Cornar silently acquiesces and follows after him.

  Both Iltar and Cornar quietly descend the steps and walk through the corridors that eventually lead to Iltar’s small quarters. Once they are in the cabin, Iltar closes and locks the door, motioning for his friend to sit.

  Moving across the small cabin, Cornar sits in the only chair against the outer hull while Iltar moves toward the bed. Both warrior and necromancer face each other diagonally across the room.

  As they take their seats, Iltar speaks up, “In order for us to move forward there are some necessary steps that need to be taken.” Iltar adjusts himself and leans against the wall; his head relaxes comfortably as he continues his proposal and dilemma. “I told the others that the council had discovered the writings; that you and Krindal found them, but they were intending to send an expedition sometime in the future. Also, that we went to the Dragon’s Isle out of my attempting to beat them to discovering it. They still think that the mission to recruit more students was valid from the council, and that we disobeyed that order by having gone to the island.”

  “So, you are playing two lies,” Cornar says as he looks at his friend with a smile.

  “Yes I am, but I only plan to live one.”

  “I can only guess which,” Cornar says sarcastically, leaning forward and looking to his friend. “I have a feeling I know where this is going, but, how are you going to deal with implicating Krindal?”

  “Krindal has since left on another expedition,” Iltar calmly explains. “One that is taking him to the far side of the world to lands that have since become barren. I don’t expect him to return for a very long time. When he left, Krindal informed the council he was planning on being gone for at least a year and provisioned a ship for that. This was just before we set sail.”

  Shaking his head Cornar says, “You’re taking some risk there. What if Krindal returns sooner?”

  “That doesn’t matter. But we’ll deal with that when and if that time comes. By then I will have already positioned myself so that no one can stop me.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Cornar asks, still leaning forward.

  A grim smile spreads across Iltar’s face as he tells his friend the generalized idea, “Eliminate the council…”

  Cornar’s eyes widen, “Don’t you think that’s too much?”

  “No. That’s how I plan to resolve the two lies into one!” Iltar says excitedly. “You see, you and I are the only ones who know the truth. You came to me, and not to the constantly debating council. But I’ve told everyone that you and Krindal discovered those ancient texts, implying that you delivered them to the council, which is a likely action. Technically they should be notified of such things, then the Order of Histories.

  “However, the historians of Soroth weren’t notified. An act that would surely prove an uproar,” Iltar smirks and continues. “What I’ve told the others plays perfectly into why we will move against them. That and the incident with the acolytes.

  “They are a dangerous group of men that needs to be eliminated; especially Alacor. They are men that secretly conspire for gain at the expense of the nation.”

  “So you will appear to be the hero of Soroth…” Cornar says thoughtfully. “When we come forward to the public I will say you convinced me to confess and expose their maniacal plot.”

  Cornar strokes his chin, slowly think through the plan. He rustles the whiskers on his face that have grown into a thick beard. Often on previous adventures, the warrior had left his facial hair untrimmed. Why, Iltar never quite knew, and his friend never said.

  “Kenard was given a secret charter,” Cornar continues. “Even though we put the crew and expedition together, the council was giving the orders from behind their chambers. You knew the secret mission, as did I, since I had found the ancient texts. We gathered men that we knew would be loyal to us and our charge; after all, we are some of the most notorious adventurers in Soroth.”

  “Good,” Iltar nods his head then asks with narrowed eyes, “Do you think Kenard will play along with it? I’ve never truly trusted that pirate.”

  “Promise him his ship,” Cornar states plainly. “He will comply.”

  “Alright…” Iltar thinks it over in his head. “So, according to our new cumulative lie, the three of us knew the truth. The council masked the expedition with a search for apprentices.

  “I told the others Alacor wanted it for political power, something that could be easily believable
for most citizens of Soroth,” Iltar adds.

  “What about the other council members?” Cornar asks. “What is their motive for following Alacor?”

  “Power, influence. Most of them were brought on the council by Alacor, for a share in furthering their own dominions. A play off of what I have promised to my friends once I obtain the amulet.”

  “That sounds probable…” Cornar thinks the false events over in his head. “We need to silence them quickly,” the warrior continues. “That will be the hardest part. But we can use Midar and Cordel, both of them are still acting as guards for the Order.”

  “I’ll leave the strategizing to you, my friend,” Iltar smiles, happy that his intention was welcomed by Cornar.

  “Once they are dead, we can reveal ‘the truth’,” the necromancer continues. “We will need to plant the original scrolls and the books in Alacor’s chambers within the Order’s hall. I will keep the copies of them, so I can continue to reference them. The books will be out of our reach, but I don’t believe they contain any further useful information. However, I’ll read through them once more before we return home.”

  “What are we going to tell the citizens of Soroth concerning the island?” Cornar asks, looking at every possible angle in making the lie as real and believable as possible.

  “We will tell them a variation of the truth, but none of the answers we found. That primitive creatures attacked us, and the dragons could not speak. No one has seen a dragon, so they can’t really fight us on that point.”

  “What about the others?” Cornar asks, thinking of the mages aboard.

  “They all have motives to help see this through, and when it comes down to it, they are doing their duty to protect Soroth. Hagen can be the most prominent one expressing those views to the public; earlier he voiced how dangerous it was and questioned if it was worth it. We can say we all felt that to some degree. Hex might sway either way, I can tell he finds the journey intriguing and wants to press on, but is still weary of it. Amendal… all he wants is to destroy the council. All of our friends exhibit a portion of what we need to accomplish this and cover our tracks in further orchestrating this expedition.”

  Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, Cornar adds, “My men will go along with whatever I say. Tilthan will kill for treasure, and his jackals will follow him. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, or who the originator of his orders is, so we can easily string him along.”

  Still smiling, Iltar remarks on his friend’s attitude, “You seem very eager and willing to do this Cor, a little more than I initially expected.”

  Shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the necromancer across the room, Cornar gives him a level gaze, “I have my life on the line, as well as my family’s. I’ll kill to protect them, you know that. Returning to Soroth is a deathtrap at this point; for me and them.”

  Iltar nods his head and they both continue to contemplate their new goal in silence. After several moments Cornar gets up from the small seat and walks toward the door.

  “All this scheming has given me an appetite. I’m going to see if our chef has prepared anything in the galley,” Cornar says as he unlocks the door and shuts it behind him.

  Cornar’s worries linger in Iltar’s mind as he continues to think over the lie. He knows Cornar is right, this really is a deathtrap; but it is necessary to spring it and destroy it now rather than later. The turn of events on the island proved more devastating than Iltar had planned, and now the lack of information only adds to their need to return to Soroth.

  Iltar curses to himself in frustration. Contrary to what Hagen may believe, Iltar does not like putting his loyal companions in serious unknown danger. He had hoped the dragon would unravel the entire mystery of the ancient weapon, taking out most of the work for him. But that wasn’t the case, Iltar fumes. That beast only gave me information I could have determined myself! His only definite answer had been confirming that the amulet was on Merda and not Draco Isola. The most frustrating part of the puzzle was the vague clue about the activating scroll, “…‘the scroll once rested with a group of humans, but that Order has since been destroyed’…” It could be anywhere.

  Still sitting on the bed, Iltar leans forward and pulls his chest from under the table. As he opens the heavy lid, the words from the dragon echo in his mind about the texts being fake. Iltar quickly pushes the thought away, though.

  Creating fake texts for the purpose of misleading treasure-seekers millennia later makes no sense. I must have misread the scrolls. Nodding to himself, Iltar decides to continue looking for clues on the missing order of men instead of worrying about forgeries.

  Clearing his mind, Iltar reaches down for the first book and nestles himself back into the corner on top of his bed. He opens the hard leather cover, revealing the tome’s title page: “The Thousand Years War. A narrative compilation by Dusel Nadim, Volume One.”

  Giving it only a quick glance, Iltar flips through to the preface.