* * * * *
Another month passes, and in that time, the council met several times to discuss the growing affairs of the Order. Their acolyte ranks had risen to over four hundred. To Iltar’s surprise, there were many in Soroth that desired to learn the other magical arts that had been stricken from the previous Order’s learning curriculum.
On a cold winter’s day, Iltar sits alone in his private living quarters. The day is cold enough to keep the necromancer in seclusion. A fire, lit by magical means, provides warmth to the stone tower’s interior. Iltar is quietly enjoying a cup of warm tea in a high back chair that almost swallows him. The steam rising from his cup smells of brandleberry, a sweet yet tart smell that tingles the senses in the mouth to tightening. The necromancer is deep in thought, anticipating the rest of the journey he must undertake to unravel the secret of the Au’misha’k.
A light rattling at the door jars Iltar from his daydreaming, and he sets the warm mug of tea on an end table near the chair before rising from his seat.
“Master Iltar,” Belsina’s familiar soft voice creeps through the wooden door. “You have a visitor. Scholar Kilan is here to see you.”
He opens the door anxiously, and upon seeing Belsina and Kilan he motions to his study.
“I was wondering when you would arrive, but you chose a dreadfully cold day,” Iltar remarks and the two men enter the dark private study while Belsina descends the stairs.
“I finished transcribing my research this morning,” Kilan answers while Iltar lights the nears globe. “But I knew you would be eager to see it. After all, it has been almost four months since we met last.”
“Why don’t you summarize what you discovered.” Iltar suggests, sitting in his chair and resting his elbows on the armrests while interlocking his fingers.
“I will start from the beginning; you’ll want to hear it. While I was searching for information, I remembered a trader in Soroth who has a fascination with elven history. He was kind enough to lend me a rare book on the elves. I suppose it was written by a human who had an intimate knowledge of the elves a very long time ago. The tome was very frail, but that’s beside the point.
“The island of Merdan was discovered by an elf of the same name. For reasons I couldn’t find, they settled on the eastern side of the island. From the book and other records we had, I found out the city of Merda was first a grand fortress, but later became a city.
“The trader’s book told of a group of elves left the city of Merath, led by Merdan. After they landed on the island, they never returned. It wasn’t until generations later that the elves of Merda began to trade with outsiders, human and elf alike. They also built the port of Keth. Merda, the city, was over three day’s journey on horseback from the bay. Nothing else was really said of the city, other than it remained in seclusion, and very few people ever saw the elven home and the white pyramid.
“There was not much else here in Soroth, so I journeyed to Keth to see if I could discover a little more about the island. I learned that nine hundred and forty-one years ago a human colony was started on Merdan. A few years after the humans settled, the elves decided to give the port to them. From that point on, all contact with Merda and the elves was kept to visits in the mountains that divide the island in half; there was a small stronghold in a mountain pass, and it was the only way to the other side. Often elves and humans would meet there to discuss any pending need on either side. Unlike the rest of the elves on Kalda, they were willing to help; but, they rarely accepted visitors on their side of the island.
“Nothing of great importance occurred after that until around four hundred years ago. There was a great exodus of elves from the eastern side to the west. Something had gone terribly wrong in Merda. The elves involved in the governing affairs of the city never revealed to the humans the circumstances of their plight.
“However, the more common population of elves, and some of those in their military, circulated stories of the nightmarish horror of what occurred. They told of werewolves and vampires, and how a battle erupted in the city between the two supernatural races. Soon after the stories spread people disappeared, and some were said to have transformed into werewolves.
“Since then, nothing about the city Merda has ever been recorded.
“I assume it was these stories that gave Merda its haunted reputation. Like anything, I’m sure people exaggerated the tale of its downfall.”
Iltar quietly looks down at the table as Kilan finishes his summary. He sees a thin notebook and, motioning to the bound pages, asks, “I suppose those are the details?”
“Yes,” Kilan says as he slides the small book to Iltar.
“That was very illuminating,” Iltar says as he pushes the chair back away from the table and rises, moving behind the chair. Like he had done before with Midal, the necromancer reaches for a bag of coins and hands them to the historian.
“You can leave,” the necromancer says flatly while picking up the book and opens it.
Kilan rises and bows to Iltar before proceeding out the door.
After a moment, Iltar walks back to his private chambers within the tower, notebook in hand. The fire’s warmth wraps around his body and he nestles back into the oversized arm chair to continues reading Kilan’s detailed notes of history.
The greater description Kilan had written was detailed with knowledge of how the people of Keth dealt with the lycanthrope outbreak; magical weapons were used to cut the creatures down and their bodies were burned to ash.
Kilan described the fortress of Merda as a giant white pyramid sitting atop a plateau and surrounded by a vast expanse of grassland. A river separated the fortress and the elven city. Merdan buildings towered high, higher than most buildings in the human world, which matched the tales Midal referred to.
Kilan had also included a map of the island. From the looks of it, and the added detail in his writings, all but the western part of the island was surrounded by rocky ground. Thus the reason the elves built the port of Keth. There was a river that ran from the mountains and through the city of Merda, but the mouth of the waterway emptied to a jagged delta. Forests covered most of the eastern landscape, except for the southern part of that side of the island, which is marked as a vast plain.
Once he finishes studying the details, Iltar closes the bound pages and rises from his chair. He grabs a thick cloak hanging near the doorway and exits of his lofty apartment, then proceeds to the tower’s lowest level.
The harsh cold air stings Iltar’s skin as he walks out of his tower, prompting him to wrap his cloak more tightly around himself as he swiftly strides across the stone path.
Neither of his guards are at their stationed post outside, but that is quite normal for the colder days such as this one, and Iltar is not bothered by their absence.
With cloak wrapping his hand, Iltar opens the gate and jogs to the side door of his parent’s former home. He steps inside and is immediately washed over by a wave of heat.
It had been some time since Iltar last set foot in the home. He had given it to his servants and the two guards that watched his forest estate nearly twenty five years ago. The very smell of the place conjures unwanted memories of Iltar’s childhood that he quickly shuts out of his mind.
While Iltar shaking the thoughts off, Delrin sees him down the corridor leading to the side entry of the home.
“Master Iltar, is there something wrong?” Delrin asks, concerned, walking to his employer.
“No, Delrin,” Iltar replies. “Go into the city and find Cornar. I must speak with him at once.”
“Yes, Master Iltar,” Delrin states as he walks toward his employer and the door. He grabs several pieces of warm clothing then follows the necromancer out of the house.
Iltar swiftly moves for the metal gate while Delrin runs to the stables, hastily dawning his warm cloak and thick coat.
As Iltar nears his tower he hears Delrin galloping his horse down the pathway
leading to the forest, and the horses heavy hooves quickly fade into the cold evening.
The Dragons' Legacy Page 37