by John Migacz
CHAPTER 13
In a dark, empty cave, Dieya suddenly appeared. The sound of dripping water echoed in the darkness as he splashed through small puddles. Dieya placed his right hand on the surface of the rough stone wall and it vanished to reveal a metal door without latch or hinge. A small red light appeared in its center and shone into his eyes. Seconds later the door slid noiselessly sideways. He entered a small room constructed of smooth metallic walls and the door clicked shut behind him. A chair and a large, half-round desk, inset with jewels similar to those on Dieya’s amulet, dominated the far wall. He flopped down into the chair and sighed. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes for a moment, his hands clasped on his stomach. He felt sadness for Hotnac at the loss of his brother, but with dark nodes being constructed on Ravar he knew Susnac was only the first to die.
Straightening in his chair, he took a deep breath and pressed a series of jewels on the desk. When one of the jewels glowed with a deep fire, he lifted a similar jewel from his amulet and pressed it to his right temple.
“This is dieya four-three-nine-two,” he said aloud. “This is dieya four-three-nine-two.” He repeated this mantra a few more times, then his eyes went out of focus. He began to blink rapidly. After several minutes, his eyes refocused and he removed the jewel from his temple. He touched the bright jewel on the desk once more and its fire went out. Opening a drawer in his desk, he lifted out a blue slate and held it in his lap. He gazed down at its surface. “Now to find you…”
Few lights were lit in keeping with the somber tone of the throne room. Lotho and his councilors sat hunched over their wine cups, heads bowed in defeat. Balthus and Adrianna matched their mood. The shock of the encounter with Baron Yorburg had worn off but it left Balthus unusually pensive. He sat staring into his cup, forgetting to drink.
Lotho hadn’t forgotten – he was drinking heavily. Adrianna touched Balthus’ arm and he looked up. He forced a small smile to his lips.
Lotho signaled for more wine, then shook his head. “Estagon dead? One hundred of my best knights lost, and a Baron who is an invincible sorcerer?” He closed his eyes. “This is more than I can imagine.”
“I don’t know why my sword did so little damage,” said Balthus. “A normal head would have danced across the floor, not stopping for breakfast. How did Yorburg resist my blade?”
A voice issued from the darkness near the back of the room. “Because the Baron of Yorburg isn’t normal. In fact, he’s not even human.”
Drawing their swords, the assembly leaped to their feet and fear-laced questions filled the air.
A man, all dressed in black, walked into the light. The long black staff held in his left hand clicked along the stone floor. He raised his right hand, palm out, gesturing peace. He stopped in the center of the room, his eyes resting for a moment on each member of the group before he spoke. “Gentlefolk, my name is Dieya. I am here to offer my services.” He bowed low.