* * * * *
Two hours later, the necromancer hears the sound of horses racing toward the secluded estate. He rises from his chair in the third story study and looks out the window facing the tower’s courtyard. He can see Delrin and Cornar dismounting their horses beyond the gate. The former enters the stables with the horses, while the latter by himself continues toward the gateway, opening it and then closing before walking to the tower.
“This is one dreadful night to summon me,” Cornar says as he opens the door to Iltar’s study.
“We will not talk here my friend,” Iltar says and motions for the warrior to exit the room. He pushes past Cornar into the anteroom and opens the door to the private living area.
“Great, someplace warm,” Cornar says as he walks in and rubs his arms in an attempt to warm himself. “I hope you have something hot to drink.”
“Of course, I don’t want my most trusted ally to fall ill and die on the brink of our great quest,” Iltar chuckles, amused by Cornar rattling teeth. He moves to the raised bar and kitchen positioned adjacent to the sitting area in the center of the tower.
The kitchenette is a dark brown in color and large enough to prepare a simple meal or heat water. A small metal apparatus sits on the countertop between the kitchen and the living room.
Once behind the bar, Iltar casts a quick spell that ignites the top of the apparatus. He turns around to a stone sink with a spigot jutting out from the wall and places an empty kettle beneath it.
“Cor,” Iltar says as he turns the lever near the spigot, causing water to flow from it, “We have what we’ve been waiting for. Now, all we must do is devise a way to sneak off to Merda.”
“Oh?” the warrior asks and sits upon the sofa near the fire. “That took them quite some time to compile that information. I hope we have more to go on than our last trip.”
“Don’t worry,” Iltar says as he moves the kettle to the apparatus, “We do. We know that there are vampires and werewolves there, as well as a description of the city and the island’s eastern terrain.”
“At least there won’t be any dragons,” Cornar says sarcastically as he leans his head back and looks up at the stone ceiling.
“Werewolves we can kill,” Iltar says as the pot whistles. “The vampires on the other hand might pose a challenge. I’m still worried about this ‘Devourer.’ Midal couldn’t find anything about him. The only vampire he mentioned by name was the child stealer, Esmid.”
Cornar laughs at the reference and quips, “Like he exists…”
“What do you want to drink?” Iltar asks as he dismisses the magically lit flame with a brief incantation then turns around to grab two mugs from the rear countertop.
“Do you have any messel?”
“Yes,” the host opens a wooden cabinet above him and grabs a bottle of brown powder that he then shovels into both mugs, followed by the boiling water.
The messel Cornar asked for was a popular tea on Kalda. It came from a tree whose inner bark produces a flavorful substance when ground that can be used in cooking meals or teas.
“Vampires…” the word trails off of Cornar’s lips as Iltar steps from the kitchen to the sitting area.
“I suppose we need some wooden stakes to kill them,” Iltar hands his guest the tea and sits in the chair to Cornar’s left. “But why wood? Watch, they’ll die just as easy to our magic.”
“Who knows,” Cornar takes a sip of the messel tea before continuing. “Maybe the wood does something to them. I’ll start acquiring some stakes. What about Merda?”
“The fortress sits atop a plateau above the city. Nothing Kilan wrote said how to get up there. We really don’t have too much information about the layout. I assume we will end up scouting the area for a day or two before we actually advance.”
“Have you figured out how we will slip away?” Cornar asks as he continues to sip on the warm drink. “And does the governor suspect something?”
“No, we will have to put that at the forefront of our attention,” Iltar leans back as he ponders aloud.
“Riner is a fool,” Iltar continues with a sigh. “By the time he realizes the truth we will be far from here. He was so gullible when we met last. The governor really believes that the scrolls were written to kill treasure seekers. I just had to interject some of my own fraudulent analysis to convince him.
“Our escape from the city, though… well perhaps we will be lucky enough to have it drop into our laps.”
The Dragons' Legacy Page 38