Chapter 5 – A rough fall
AS THEY PROCEED HIGHER AND HIGHER into the mountains, everyone is starting to feel the bitter cold biting hungrily into them, despite their thick and warm clothing. Since everyone heard of Jacques’ tale, they’re all filled with a sense of dread. Trying to work up the nerve to speak with him, Brahm grits his teeth and marches through the thick snow. Whispering, Brahm tries to discuss what he had heard with Jacques.
‘Was all of that true, Jacques?’
‘I’m afraid it was. There is an ancient evil festering inside Arcana, hiding away from the light.’ Brahm had heard of legends about ancient evils, mostly in the forms of mythical beasts like dragons, where some great hero came to vanquish it and bring about peace. But, the world is lacking in heroes right now, since the constant war of Harkon and Arcana has claimed so many lives.
‘What do you mean by “is”? Surely someone has dealt with it by now.’ Dreading the answer, Brahm attempts to steel himself against the truth.
‘No, Brahm. It very much lives. It haunts my dreams. Please, I do not wish to discuss it.’ Noticing how grim Jacques’ face has turned, Brahm decides not to push him any further.
‘It really must be something else if it unnerved you, of all people.’ Brahm is right, of course. That swirling blackness that attempted to consume him is very old, and very powerful. Jacques immediately takes the opportunity to change the subject.
‘Where’s our next stop in this accursed place? I can feel these winds slice through me like a scythe.’ Jacques isn’t handling the cold well, shivering constantly and his face turning blue.
‘We will be stopping at Frostvale Refuge. I’m glad there are at least a few safe places in these mountains.’ Brahm sighs with relief, keen to rest from the constant cold.
‘I don’t want a safe place, I want a warm place. Even the thought of being in the heart of a volcano appeals to me right now.’
Their long and silent drudge continues through the frozen mountain trails, the constant cold taking its toll on the travellers. Jacques is barely able to walk now, every joint in his body is freezing and stiff. He is tempted to use his mastery over magic in order to warm himself, though he knew all of them would be terrified if he revealed he is a mage. So, he grits his teeth and continues the climb through the cold mountains. Even Isaac seems to be handling it better than him, managing to keep up with the group despite the extra weight he carries with his writing tools and scrolls. Jacques begins to think about why he agreed to have his story recorded. Perhaps it was boredom, a nice distraction from the senseless violence thrown at him by Harkonians and the inevitability of his greatest challenge. He would have to return to that chamber one day, and find a way to destroy the blackness inside it. Though well versed in the Arcane arts, he doubts that he is strong enough to be able to confront the entity as he is. He would have to do it sooner or later, however, since he is gradually aging and becoming weaker, bit by bit. The entity itself would only be growing more powerful, as the war rages between their two nations and continue to claim innocent lives. Returning to reality, Jacques sees that they’re now on a plateau, the ground thick with snow and ice. A few scraggly and frozen shrubs stick out of the frigid snow. Without warning, an arrow flies by Jacques’ head, imbedding itself into the ground harmlessly. More arrows fly through the air, striking a few of Brahm’s men. Scanning the area, Brahm immediately sees their attackers.
‘Bandits! Should’ve known those scum would use these mountains to their advantage! Hold fast, men! Get the wounded somewhere safe!’ Turning to Jacques, Brahm decides he wishes to prove himself, instead of relying on the adventurer.
‘It’s our turn now, Jacques. We can’t deal with sorcery, but we definitely know our way around battle.’ As if to illustrate his point, his soldiers pull out crossbows and return fire. Several of the bandits fall dead immediately, with the remaining ones getting under cover. They had gathered branches and snow to built small barricades with them, hiding beneath them in order to disappear from sight. Not amused by their trickery, Brahm extends his hands out from his sides.
‘Sword! Shield!’ He commands to his troops. They quickly hand him just as he requested, a finely polished shield bearing the Harkonian Councilman’s crest, and a blade seemingly made of obsidian. Charging forward, Brahm uses his shield to deflect any projectiles the bandits throw at him. Isaac looks at him, wondering if he’s insane for charging headlong at his enemies in such a manner. However, nothing gets past Brahm’s shield, and he engages in melee combat with them. They were well equipped for a ranged fight, but not for one up close. Brahm slashes through them with his shield and sword, felling them as though they were saplings beneath a woodcutter’s axe. Despite their superior numbers, Brahm handily wins and makes sure none of them live. He raises his shield above him and lets out a cheer of triumph, his men joining him. However, none of them notice the remaining bandits hiding in the crevices behind them. Some of them sneak up behind Jacques and Isaac, immediately grabbing them from behind. Jacques fares well, throwing off the wretched brigand with ease, but Isaac is not so lucky. Raising him above his head, the bandit begins shouting demands.
‘Stop! Or he gets to pay a visit to the crevice below!’ Not willing to negotiate with such scum, Jacques immediately charges him, sword drawn. True to his word, the bandit throws Isaac down the edge of the plateau right before Jacques stabs him through the heart. Acting as quickly as possible, Jacques desperately grabs for Isaac’s hand. Having nothing to grab but snow, Jacques begins to fall as well, only saving both of them from the deep and seemingly bottomless crevice by burying his sword in the ice along the cliff face. Moving as fast as he can, Brahm slays the remaining bandits, and peers over the cliff face.
‘Isaac! Jacques! Are you both okay?!’
‘It depends on what you mean by “okay”!’ A panicking Jacques shouts in reply.
‘My sword isn’t going to hold our weight for much longer!’ As though he is jinxing himself, the sword begins to groan, slowly splitting the ice it is buried it.
‘Hold on! We’ll get you out of there!’
‘Not this time, Brahm. Keep going! We’ll meet you at Frostvale Refuge, if we make it.’ Unable to hold them any longer, the ice breaks and the pair tumble down the cliff face.
Waking up sometime later, Jacques rises slowly. Daylight is gone, and the conditions are increasingly frigid. A small mound of snow had built up around him while he lied there. Another mound shaped like a person is close by, and Jacques finds Isaac buried in much the same manner he was. Their fall hadn’t injured them greatly, but the cold is going to be enough to finish them off if they didn’t find shelter. Picking up the unconscious Isaac and carrying him on his shoulders, Jacques attempts to search for anything which could protect them from the bitter gales and snow. It seemed the bandit was correct. They had fallen into a deep crevice. A bright and full moon shines in the sky, casting a ghostly light which contrasts against the deep shadows of the crevice. Jacques wastes no time in finding a place to rest Isaac, and attempts to find anything he can use to start a fire. Observing his surroundings, he notices ruins of old structures inside the crevice. He remembers Brahm telling him of the old days, when kingdoms before Arcana and Harkon rose and fell across the lands, along with many different cultures and people who inhabited the land. These ruins would suggest a mountain dwelling people, whose demise came long ago. To his luck, there were remnants and fragments of ancient and rotting wood scattered in the ruins. Gathering what he can, he pulls out a small piece of flint along with a tiny steel ingot. Soon, he creates a small fire, just enough to keep the cold away and recuperate from the pitfall down the cliff. With the life giving heat stirring him from his slumber, Isaac begins to stir. He lets out a small groan of pain.
‘Ugh… Jacques? Are you there?’ He croaks out into the shadows.
‘Nice of you to join me, Isaac.’
‘We aren’t dead?’
‘Not yet, anyway. We’re curren
tly at the bottom of a crevice, and I have no idea how we will find our way out of here.’ Taking the time to look around, Isaac also notices the ruins.
‘What are these ruins?’
‘I am not sure. I’m not familiar with the lore of this region, apart from the small bits and pieces Brahm has told me. Obviously the old stomping ground of a mountain dwelling tribe or village of some sort.’
‘Do you think there are spirits here?’
‘No, I don’t sense any sort of supernatural disturbance here. I’m guessing that the people who lived here just left. I can see why, this place is desolate at best.’
‘So, do you think they might have made a way out of here? Maybe a door or a secret exit or something?’
‘Well, I don’t see a better option right now. We don’t have any tools to climb that cliff face. I also lost my sword on the way down here. We should search the ruins to see if we can find anything we can use. Tools, weapons, anything.’ With the fire reduced to nothing but a few hot coals, they begin scouring the ruins. Their search is largely fruitless, with Isaac only finding a stone knife. Its handle had worn away with age, and holding the sharp stone with their bare hands didn’t appeal to either of them.
‘Whoever was here, they certainly didn’t leave much behind. I have another idea.’
‘Which is?’
‘In certain ancient cultures, it was customary to bury their dead with items they held dear in life. I am sure these people had warriors of some sort among them.’
‘So now we’re grave robbers? I’m okay with taking small items from their houses, but not from stealing from corpses.’
‘Would you rather occupy a grave than steal from one?’ A fair point, but Isaac shakes his head anyway.
‘Very well then. I’ll rob the graves, you don’t have to do anything. No moral burden. Let’s just hope there’s a blade which hasn’t been eaten by time.’ Searching around for anything which might mark a grave, Jacques sees a large square field of cleared land on the other side of the mountain village. Slight amounts of debris is scattered across the square, but he also sees piles of small and round stones. Trying his luck, he begins digging up the stones. To his luck, small items of various sorts are buried within the piles. They’re most useless items, such as brooches and combs, tiny remnants and tokens of the people who were buried there. Knowing that Isaac wouldn’t help, Jacques patiently continues exploring the stones, until his patience yields something. Digging through a larger mound, he finds an ancient bronze blade, which has resisted the crawling rust which had claimed many of the other relics he had found. Though bronze is fairly weak, it is better than nothing in this abandoned village. Satisfied, Jacques calls out across the dead village.
‘Isaac! We’ve got a weapon. Let’s begin our search for an exit.’ After a moment or two, Isaac calls back.
‘We’re going to need a source of light if we’re going to traverse these caverns.’ Not trusting ancient and rotten wood to hold a flame, Jacques begins debating with himself. He is deeply tempted to use his magic to create light. Isaac also seems more apathetic to the supernatural than the rest of the Harkonians he has met in his time. So, with a flick of his fingers, a bright spark forms on the tip of his finger. It floats away into the stagnant air above him, casting light in every visible direction. Taken aback by the sudden spark, Isaac immediately stares at Jacques. Before the words can form on his lips, Jacques answers him ahead of time.
‘Yes, I can use magic. No, I don’t want Brahm to know. A few of those soldiers in his unit are highly suspicious of me, and knowing I was a mage would give them an excuse to slit my throat in my sleep. He always shares any information he gets with his soldiers. So, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone else.’
‘Okay. Since you’re a mage, maybe you could tell me more about magic?’ Frustrated, Jacques snaps at him.
‘Now is not the time, Isaac. We are stuck in a god forsaken canyon and the only thought on my mind is getting out of this long dead village and away from this darkness.’ Rarely did Jacques lose his focus. He does not want to admit it to Isaac, but he’s panicking. This entire situation had landed him in a place which he desperately didn’t want to be and the only possible way out is through deep and dark tunnels that snake their way through the mountains. The shadows are all too familiar to him. His outburst is enough to make Isaac immediately go silent.
‘I take it we’re in agreement, then. Let’s get going.’
The deep and winding caverns send shivers down Jacques’ spine, reminding him of the dark chamber which he had stumbled upon so long ago. Fortunately, these tunnels weren’t like the rough and largely un-carven tunnels of that dreaded mountain. These walls and tunnels are smooth and well chiselled. Despite that, he and Isaac have no idea where they are going. All he has are his gut instincts. He can feel eyes watching him too. Isaac is largely unaware of his surroundings, often stumbling on stones that are lying around and losing his footing on loose pieces of the floor. This did not please Jacques, because every slip up sends long and echoing sounds through the chambers, which is more than enough to wake up anything which had taken residence inside these carved and smooth stone tunnels. Knowing that shouting at him to stop doing it wouldn’t help either of them. Much to Jacques’ dread, he begins hearing noises echoing in reply to their footsteps. Shrill and deep noises, like growling. Stopping dead in his tracks, Isaac begins whispering, his voice quivering.
‘Is something following us?’ As much as Jacques wanted to deny it, he knows that telling lies would only put both of them at risk.
‘Yes. I have no idea what it might be. Maybe some sort of cave dwelling animal.’
‘Do you think that it might be… Ghosts?’ Sighing, Jacques attempts to persuade him out of that train of thought.
‘No. There’s no death or misery here. There’s nothing for them to manifest with.’
‘You know, you never told me where you met ghosts.’
‘This isn’t really an appropriate time for you to be bringing that up. Keep moving.’ Though they quicken their pace through the tunnels, the noises come closer and closer. They make no attempt to try to be silent now, and are sprinting through the tunnels.
‘We don’t even know where we’re going!’ Isaac cries out in panic.
‘We don’t, but I have an idea! This is a maze, so stick to the right hand side.’ Looking at him in sheer disbelief, Isaac nearly bursts an artery.
‘You can’t seriously be saying that!’
‘Yes, there was a small carving outside of the entrance to this place. I guess these people enjoyed it as a game. I don’t know, but what I do know is we shouldn’t be wasting our breath like this!’ Just then, a terrible obstacle comes their way. A dead end. Unable to go any way but back, Jacques turns around with his ancient blade, ready to fight whatever was following them. Eyes begin appearing in the darkness, luminous and green. Mangy wolf-life creatures begin crawling towards them. They are wretched in appearance, with patches of hideous black fur across their otherwise hairless bodies, and they seem more like rats than the proud animals which run across the Harkonian lands. Two extremely long fangs jut from their drooling mouths, dripping with saliva. Growling as they approach, each one is slavering at the mouth. There isn’t much food in these underground tunnels, and the two weary adventurers seem like the perfect prey to them. One of them takes the first leap, aiming for Jacques’ fragile neck. However, the pack learns that its prey is not without their own defences. Quickly thrusting the blade forward, Jacques splits the creature’s skull wide open while it’s still in the air, almost being knocked over by the impact of its weight. The sudden death of one of their own causes the rest of the creatures to back off slightly. However, their hunger drives them forward still. Step by step, Jacques begins slashing his way through the pack of the withered wolves, slaying five of them before the rest begin retreating. Knowing that they won’t make it if he stays idle, Isaac quickly looks around for anything he can use as a we
apon. Two sharp pieces of stone were on the ground, which Isaac quickly picks up. Wielding them as though they were daggers, Isaac steps from behind him.
‘I hate having to be the one which needs protecting all of the time, you know.’
‘Then you had better be prepared for some blood spilling. Those creatures are hungry, and we most likely look like a great feast to them.’ Sure enough, the creatures return with greater numbers, even more aggressive than before. Seeing that the weaker looking figure of the two is not hiding anymore, one of the smaller wolves charges at him. Choosing to let Isaac fight his own battle, Jacques continues watching the rest of the pack. Though not used to violence, Isaac is desperate. Just as the creature goes in for a bite, Isaac brings down his teeth daggers, stabbing it in its back. Howling in pain, it struggles pitifully before the shock kills it. Enraged further by the deaths of their pack, the rest of the wolves charge the two adventurers, snapping and slavering in anticipation. The narrow confines of the maze’s walls are the only thing that Jacques and Isaac have as an advantage, and are barely able to keep up with the flowing tide of snapping jaws and withered muscle crashing against them. The bodies of the wolves begin piling up on each other, and bit by bit the tide begins stemming. As Jacques and Isaac begin growing more and more tired, their arms are barely able to deliver enough force to kill the remaining wolves. Soon, it becomes a desperate match of fear against hunger. With one last mighty blow, Jacques kills the last of the unseemly canines, slumping against the maze’s wall. Still standing, Isaac drops his stone shards and then attempts to pull Jacques back up to his feet.
‘We can’t stay here, Jacques. We’ve got to find the exit.’
‘I know, I know. I just need… a moment to rest.’ Noticing how exhausted Jacques is, Isaac reluctant agrees. He too slumps against the wall.
‘You know, there’s no guarantee that this maze actually leads out of this place.’
‘Let’s just say I have a good feeling about this, Isaac. A good feeling tends to lead a mage to fortune.’
‘Is that how you managed to emerge unscathed through these adventures we have written down? Just “good feelings”?’
‘Well, there’s something I feel I should tell you. It is a subject I have avoided discussing during our chronicling.’ Taking a deep breath, Jacques shares the truth.
‘Someone with great magical power can subconsciously affect things around them to their favour.’
‘You mean… it sort of acts like a lucky charm?’
‘Yes, kind of. I have often had incredible strokes of luck during my life. I mean, what are the odds of meeting the most powerful trader in Stromfor, and having her adopt you as her own son?’
‘If this is true, then why did those raiders find your home?’
‘Even with magic, luck can only give you so many favours. My magic also didn’t grant my parents any luck, and their lives were just as entwined in that event as my own.’
‘But, it always grants you favours at the right moment, does it not? Any other man would’ve been killed by these… things.’
‘Hardly so. Brahm is superior to me in combat in almost every way. He could’ve slain all of them with little effort. Come to think of it, we’re coming up to the point where I meet him in our chronicle.’ Realising how off track they are getting, Isaac quickly reminds Jacques.
‘Don’t you think we’re wasting time? You yourself wanted to get out of these dark caverns, right?’
‘Well, I have caught my breath. I suppose we should get going.’ Kicking several corpses out of his way, Jacques begins striding through the maze again, his light globe trailing behind him.
‘Remember, stick to the right.’
Sure enough, the series of passage ways they entered was an ancient maze. However, it did not lead to an exit out of the mountains. Instead, it opens up to a great empty chasm with a slight opening above, allowing moonlight to pour in and banish the shadows. Frustrated with how much time they took to escape the maze, Isaac begins talking to himself.
‘So, what exactly was the point of that maze?’ He mutters bitterly.
‘I’d imagine it was used as a defence against invaders. People who are familiar with it would be able to pass the maze without any trouble, but invaders would have great difficulty with it. It could also act as a means of narrowing the flow of enemy troops, like we did with the wolves. If that theory is correct, then I’m guessing the exit is not far.’ Jacques’ theory sounds solid to Isaac, and causes him to breathe a sigh of relief.
‘I certainly hope so. I think I’m becoming afraid of dark caves too. Why do wretched things always seek the darkness?’
‘That’s simple. To hide from the sight of others. Nothing wretched enjoys being watched.’ Choosing not to waste any more time, Jacques begins crossing the chasm. Squinting in the pale light, he attempts to scan the other side for any kind of opening in the stone. Sure enough, he can see the vague outline of a flight of stairs, carved directly into the stone with superb skill. Thinking it’s too good to be true, Jacques mutters to himself.
‘Now, it can’t be this easy. It never is.’
‘Why are you talking to yourself?’ asks Isaac, worried that the caverns might be taking their toll on Jacques.
‘Weren’t you doing the same thing yourself a while ago?’
‘True enough.’ Despite normally being cautious, Jacques fails to notice the series of stone plates on the floor, and unwitting steps on one. Hearing the soft click of the stone shifting beneath him, he curses silently under his breath.
‘Yep, it was too good to be true.’ Stones begin quivering below him, and soon pillars begin rupturing from the ground, forming a thick granite wall.
‘Move it Isaac! We haven’t got long before we’re sealed in here!’ Realising what’s happening, Isaac begins sprinting as fast as his legs will carry him towards the few remaining exits in the wall. They are quickly closing, and it is only by the narrowest margin that Isaac slips through the wall. Panting heavily, he looks at the now unbreakable wall which would’ve made these caverns their tomb.
‘These people… They weren’t just skilled with craftsmanship. These pillars are enchanted as an extra layer of defence. This sword is enchanted too. I only noticed since the magic it contains has gone dormant for some time.’ Still panting, Isaac manages to give a breathless reply.
‘There were people who used magic in Harkon at one time? And why would these people need so many defences?’ Tapping the blade lightly, it lets off a harmonious vibe, quivering with the ancient enchantment which saved it from years of decay.
‘It would seem that there were some people who did use magic. Perhaps when Harkon came to fear magic, these people were persecuted. So, they built these defences. As we established, however, they must’ve left this place behind at some point. Perhaps fleeing in search of a home where they could continue living unhindered and free of Harkon’s paranoia.’
He begins taking slow and cautious steps towards the stair case. Expecting another trap, he inches towards it bit by bit. To his relief, nothing triggers when taps the first step. Urging Isaac over, they begin climbing up into the shadowy stairs. Much to their disappointment, the stairway did not lead to the surface. Instead, it brought them into another network of caverns and tunnels. A single pinpoint of light glints in the distance, beckoning the pair towards it.
‘The exit!’ Isaac cries out in joy.
‘I can only hope it is.’ Mutters Jacques. His wisp flickering brightly, Jacques marches forward, his blade in front of him, ready to strike down any foul creature which might crawl forth from the darkness. Still holding his stone shards, despite the pain they are causing him, Isaac follows, just as ready to attack at the first sign of danger. Entering the light, their eyes take some time to adjust to the sudden brightness. When they can finally see, their breath is taken away. A great underground city stretched before them. Countless scurrying figures run back and forth between great spires of stone, along granit
e bridges dotted with tiny glowing orbs. Stepping forward with caution, Jacques hides his blade beneath his thick coat. A large bridge connects the stony outlook where they are standing to the network of towers. Looking over the edge, all he can see is unending and empty shadow.
‘Well, these people would definitely know this place better than we would. We might as well try our luck.’ In awe of what he is seeing, Isaac simply looks on.
‘I know, I know, wondrous sight. Come on Isaac. We cannot afford to linger with those beasts behind us.’ Urging Isaac forward, Jacques begins taking a few awkward steps on the bridge, unsure if it would hold his weight. As soon as his foot hits the cold stone, his step echoes throughout the entire hollow chamber. All of the figures stop moving, and seem to turn where Jacques is walking. Reaching into his robe, Jacques keeps one hand firmly on his scavenged sword. Suddenly, hundreds of feet can be heard running along the stone bridge. The strange looking figures appear in huge numbers, wielding various weapons. They are a stout and bronzed looking people, despite obviously dwelling in caves. Each of them comes up to the same height as Isaac, still being dwarfed by Jacques. They speak in a strange tongue, thrusting their weapons forward in a threatening manner. Knowing that there is no way that he and Isaac could possibly beat such a huge number of people, Jacques pulls out his sword and drops it in front of the crowd.
‘Don’t make any movement, Isaac.’ Jacques urges him.
‘They can kill us in an instant. It’s better that we don’t appear to be a threat.’ Raising his hands up, Jacques shows he’s not holding any weapons. The huge crowd of bronzed people quickly seizes the pair and pushes them towards the centre of the tower network, a massive spire glided with silver into its masonry.
‘Where do you think they’re taking us?’
‘That’s obvious. To their leader.’ Sure enough, they entered a grand chamber, where a regal looking man sits upon a beautiful throne. Held tight by the many people either side of them, they begin shouting in their strange tongue again. The regent raises his hands, calling for silence. Looking Jacques and Isaac up and down, he takes a step off his throne.
‘So, what brings two men of the surface to our sanctuary?’ Though he has a heavy accent, he speaks the common tongue of Harkon and Arcana with skill and poise.
‘We were separated from our caravan because of bandits. We fell down a crevice and travelled through these caverns in hope of finding a way back to the mountain’s surface. Please forgive us if we have caused you offence. I am Jacques of Arcana, and this is Isaac of Harkon.’
‘How strange, two men of the two kingdoms travelling together. I thought you hated one another with passion that burned as hot as the long forgotten sun?’ Taking more steps down the stairs, one of the bronzed figures presents to him the bronze sword which Jacques had scavenged from the graveyard.
‘Not all of us hate each other. Isaac and I have been working on a chronicle together, a recording of my life and travels.’ Running his finger across the sword’s blade, the regent seems disinterested in the unusual visitors in his kingdom.
‘Interesting. However, you have not explained where it is you’re going, and why you are going there.’ Walking in front of Jacques, the regent stares him straight in the eye. Though Jacques is considered tall both by Arcanian and Harkonian standards, the regent easily matches his height. Dangling from his grip, the bronze sword seems to quiver with anticipation. The two of them stand face to face for a while, and the atmosphere grows intense.
‘For what purpose do you wish to inquire in my business?’ Jacques finally says, breaking the silence which had settled into the room.
‘So that I might measure what sort of man you are. I will know if you lie. The Eye of the Deep can see all that lies in a man’s heart.’ Pointing above his throne, a huge jewel is imbedded into the ceiling of the room. It is a deep jade colour with a black slit in the middle of it, almost like the crystalline eye of a gigantic predator.
‘Fine. I seek the council of the King of Harkon, the brother of one of the men I am travelling with. I wish to negotiate a treaty between Arcana and Harkon, so that our age-old dispute may finally come to an end.’ Much to Jacques’ horror, the gigantic jewel begins stirring and moving. It turns to his direction, staring at him. Its penetrating gaze causes him to squirm slightly, but it quickly returns to its original position. Gazing into the eye’s depths, the regent falls into a trance-like state, his hands twitching and his eyes turning white. However, he quickly snaps back to his original regal posture.
‘The Eye has determined that what you say is true. It is a foolish idea to pursue, but you are honest about it.’ Seeming pleased with the answer to his question, the regent starts taking steps back towards his throne, passing the bronze sword to one of his servants. Trying his luck, Jacques speaks out.
‘Now I have a question. What are those ruins we found early on?’
‘You mean the ones you raided and took this blade from? It’s the old village of our ancestors. We dug into the mountain as the men of Harkon grew more and more fearful of magic, and created defences to deter any that might disturb us in our new home. What I find most curious is how you managed to find your way through those defences…’
‘Ingenuity and quick reflexes can account for a lot, ruler of the deep.’
‘No, it’s more than just that. My people saw the wisp following you. You use magic as well. We know how it affects the material world just as well as your people do, Arcanian.’
‘Yes yes. I do not like to speak bluntly with royalty, but for the sake of whatever gods you may worship, please just tell us where we might leave this place. Our caravan will not wait forever for us to return.’
‘I shall grant your wish, Arcanian.’ Speaking in his native tongue, the regent convinces his subjects to release the pair. Waving his hands and speaking soft chants, Isaac and Jacques begin to feel very tired.
‘I am sorry, but we will not risk discovery. Farewell, Jacques of Arcanian, and Isaac of Harkon.’
Waking up later, Jacques and Isaac are back on top of the mountain path.
‘Well, that was quite an adventure, wasn’t it Isaac?’
‘I think I’ll let you do the adventuring in the future. It’s not my line of work.’
‘I think that would be wise. You seem to ignore some of the more… interesting details of an adventure.’ Rummaging around in his robes, Jacques reveals a large bag filled with rare and precious gems.
‘Tell me Isaac, what’s a few gems to a corpse?’ Jacques says with a deeply pleased look on his face. Burying his face into his palm, Isaac realises what he had done.
‘Seasoned adventurer and mage you may be, it seems you’re just as greedy as any bandit we might meet. I thought we were only robbing the dead for our survival.’ Shrugging, Jacques quickly puts his ill gotten gains away in his robe.
‘Well my fine scholar, these gems could buy us food or shelter, which in turn makes us survive. So technically I wasn’t lying. Anyway, our current priority should be to reach Frostvale Refuge. As I have said before, Brahm is patient, but his patience is not unlimited.’
‘You make a fair point. I’m glad this backpack of mine has managed to stay intact. Imagine how much work we’d have to do to replace all the pages we’ve lost.’
Though his men are comfortable at the refuge, Brahm is filled with many worries. He knows that Jacques always finds a way to get out of these situations without injuring himself too much, but Isaac’s well being is another matter altogether. The soft scholar knows nothing about survival or battle, and these mountains were infamous for their dangers. If the ice and snow did not kill someone, then the predatory beasts that wander through the area would be enough to finish them off. Admittedly, Brahm has grown to like the scholar. He has waited for two days now, and there’s no sign of the pair. Turning his back on the road, he returns to the camp, which is safely tucked away from the blizzards and winds. Just as he about to seat himself, one of his guards let
s out a cry.
‘There’s two figures walking up the road, Councilman!’ Realising who it might be, he immediately jumps up. Sure enough, Jacques and Isaac have returned. They’re shivering, but they’re alive.
‘Welcome back!’ Brahm shouts with delight.
‘How was the trip back? Not too hard?’
‘You have no idea.’ Jacques speaks softly.
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