The Entrance Hall was a majestic room. Burning torches that were suspended in metal racks and glittering chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, brightened up the room.
Zilnee sat quietly at the foot of the marble stairs leading down from the Library. He was wearing deep blue robes, studded with sewn-on stars and moons. In his hand was long, crooked oak staff, ornately lined with silver and gold. Nestled at the top of the staff was three, bony "fingers", curled around a swirling Elemental Orb.
Zilnee's staff, awarded to him by the Druid Lord when he became a High Druid, was powerful enough to release insanely strong energies that could distort the very physics of the mortal universe, creating mirages and illusions. It could even teleport whole cities, however that huge display of might required such ability that Zilnee even could not conjure. Tales circulated about the staff, how it destroyed great dragons and large armies. Most of them were fabrications, but a few were correct, namely the story of how it summoned a behemoth to attack a demon that had threatened an entire continent.
If he had wanted to, Zilnee could make the two guards at in the Palace Gatehouse implode, as well as the Gatehouse itself and a large proportion of the Entrance Hall. Instead, Zilnee had chosen to escape the kind way, the non-violent way.
Zilnee pulled the time-piece out of his pocket and glanced at it: 11:09 pm. Where were Malfa and Bronar? What had happened? Had they backed out? Or had they been caught?
Zilnee was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He turned around and was greeted by Malfa and Bronar, who were each wearing flamboyantly-coloured cloaks marked with the Royal coat-of-arms.
"What are you wearing?" Asked the High Druid, restraining laughter with some difficulty.
"You told us to come prepared." Said Malfa innocently. "Anyway, these clothes are warm."
"But you'll be spotted easily!" He pointed out. "I'd be surprised if people all the way up at Fort Minor couldn't see you."
Bronar began to take his bright orange cape off. "Never mind that now. The gate has been closed; if we postpone our exit any longer then one of the guards will surely find us. Hurry!"
Bronar hurriedly put it back on. "Have you got the bags?"
Zilnee indicated the bulky prominence bulging from his pocket. "Everything is inside it."
"How did you cram them inside that tiny thing?" Asked Malfa.
"A spell." Answered Zilnee. "And it's hard to sustain it for prolonged periods. Shall we leave?"
The three of them sneaked across the hallway, careful not to disturb the watchful veterans standing inside the Gatehouse. Malfa, flanked by Bronar, slowly, and silently, closed the wooden door and bolted it shut, while Zilnee began to mutter a spell to open the iron gate that blocked their path.
"Openio, monsterio gatee. Openio!" He chanted, before the guards locked in the Gatehouse began banging on the walls.
"Hey! Is anyone out there? I can hear voices. Hello!" Yelled one of the sentries.
Malfa wrenched a ceremonial sword from its holder and slid it through the handle. It would hold.
"Zilnee!" Yelled Bronar, while keeping the door closed with his back. "Get that gate open!"
"Openio, ho majesticalio gatee!" There was a grinding noise as the iron portcullis was lifted from the ground and the gate swung open.
Zilnee, expecting to see the worn path leading over the moat empty, was shocked when he saw six soldiers standing there, clubs in their huge hands. They weren't wearing the normal guard armour either, which steel breastplate worn over some iron chain mail, instead, they wore tattered leather jerkins and ripped trousers. They were obviously not working for the Army; they were mercenaries. Pillagers. Vagabonds.
"Hey… Look what we have here. The prince, the freak and the old man with a wardrobe filled with rubbish clothes. Get 'em!"
The bandits surged forward, waving their bludgeons in the air and yelling. Zilnee stabbed at one of the marauders with his staff and he was send sprawling into the icy jaws of the water. Sparks flew from the orb as he twirled the staff around expertly, and in next to no time there was only two murderers remaining: The leader and his advisor.
For a moment, both sides halted the engagement.
"What to you want?" Asked Zilnee, using the pause as an opportunity to gather information of his enemies.
"We're here to collect some heads… For our master To-." Began the advisor.
"Shut up!" Hollered the cutthroat in charge. "What did I tell you about releasing information?" Then he faced Zilnee. "We've waited long enough! You'll die for your curiosity!" He threw his only ally at the High Druid.
The man tumbled along the ground, screaming as he went. The High Druid had to jump out of the way and the diversion gave the leader enough time to take a knife from his belt. He put it behind his shoulder and aimed it at Zilnee's head. The knife arced through the sky and came to a sudden stop, inches away from Zilnee's nose.
The High Druid had contained the dagger inside a magical shield. Then, he flicked his fingers and the knife fell to the ground. Bronar came over and rolled the bandit's advisor into the moat.
"You're alone. Leave now or suffer the consequences." Said the High Druid, a tone of finality in his voice.
The leader seemed to evaluate his choices and spat at Zilnee. "You'll regret this, you fool!" And he turned and ran, dropping his weapons on the dirt.
Malfa was as angry as the man had been.
"Why did you let that piece of scum leave?" He shouted, spit flying from his mouth.
"Malfa." Sighed the High Druid. "There are ways to defeat your adversaries that don't include a violent confrontation. Soon, everyone will have to choose between killing an enemy and capturing one, and I hope to keep capturing and rehabilitating people for as long as possible."
"But he could have killed you!" Bellowed Malfa.
"He could have, however he chose not to. I also could have incinerated him, but I chose not to. Hopefully, some of my compassion has soaked into him. The world needs better people."
Malfa sighed and picked up the knife. He rubbed some dirt off of it and examined it. "This is used by the Dark Ash Assassins; it bares their mark on it. Look, the skull and the fire."
He passed the dagger to Bronar, who flung it up in the air and caught it.
"We should go knocking. I've heard that they have a base out at the forest near the Old Bridge, we could find out who hired them." Bronar said.
"Bronar, you know that it was Tobil. Stop denying it." Groaned the High Druid. "He has employed them many times. During his last conquests, a few weeks ago and tonight."
Bronar was silent, but he then questioned why the escaping bandit didn't teleport away.
"Because this Palace has enchantments disabling any sort of magical transportation from anywhere other than authorised positions. To teleport he would have had to made his way up through the castle and into the King's Chambers." Replied Malfa.
"Are you sure they were Dark Ash Assassins? They weren't wearing the usual outfit."
"Hmm…" Said Zilnee. "I noticed that as well. It's odd. Maybe they're… outcasts. They might have failed an assassination attempt and been kicked out as a result, Tobil would have found it cheaper and easier to recruit them, it would allow his presence to become less pronounced. I doubt that the Assassins Guild, as evil as they are, would even let him hire any of their employees."
Again, the loud banging coming from the guards locked inside the Gatehouse disturbed them.
"We should leave. Quickly, before anyone shows up." Said Zilnee, illuminating the darkness overwhelming the light in front of them with his staff.
Malfa and his companions had left the city, which was desolate with only a few pub revellers hobbling drunkenly through the streets, without needing to traverse any more obstacles. After exiting the capital, they had proceeded across the wide, luscious expanse of grassland known as the Fileteri Plains, carefully avoiding the army that was present in and around Fort Dibel, a barracks/guardpost that was now the military hub of the Crusadian Empire. They had narrowly dodged being caught, which Malfa said was down to Zilnee and Bronar's quick thinking.
They later found out that they were wanted criminals after Zilnee ventured into a small settlement, concealed under a charm, and found a sign nailed to a tree.
When Malfa discovered this he felt an odd mixture of emotions: anger, confusion and sadness.
"How are we wanted criminals?" He asked, while they were travelling beside a herd of placid buffalo-like Nerans. "The only illegality of our actions was that we broke curfew. That certainly doesn't make us dangerous."
"Malfa, you have to remember that Tobil will probably be working on sorcery so evil and degrading that he'll have possessed judges, guards and officials. I'm sorry to say this, but I think that he will have already infected your father."
And indeed he had.
*
Tobil glided through the hall, attracting a large following of goblins awestruck by his recent activities. He had just received the knowledge that a young, male guard had been captured and he was on his way to the dungeon to greet his newest guest.
The dungeon, a cruel and torturous place hidden in the rocky bowels of the cavern, housed twelve cells, each reeking with death and despair. It had been there for centuries, even before Tobil had taken the cave as his residence, and was empty, except for a moaning wreck of a man crying in a damp room.
When he looked up and saw Tobil, he instantly assumed that it was someone coming to rescue him. However, after Tobil had uncloaked himself, he was repulsed.
"Please!" He squealed pathetically, diving at the iron bars restraining him from escaping. "Let me go! I have a family! I have friends! Please, let me go!"
"Be quiet!" Tobil snapped, face contorted in rage. "That's better."
Tobil's heart was pounding, going at double the usual speed. For a moment, nausea and dizziness overcame him and he feel back, clutching his heart.
He wrapped his scaly hand around one of the bars and pulled himself up. The guard was whimpering again. The suffering made Tobil feel remorse, something that he had not felt in a long time.
"What is your name?" He demanded, calmer this time. "I said what is your name!"
The soldier glanced up, shivering with fear and trauma. "C-Claud-dius."
"Ahh… I had a friend called Claudius, before I kil-." He stopped himself, those were human memories, weaker memories from a weaker man. He was stronger now.
"Where were you stationed? Claudius." He questioned, his voice steady.
Claudius had a sudden burst of defiance and yelled. "I'll never work with you goblin!" And then began to sob once again.
"No-one has insulted me and lived for very long! I can offer you a reward if you listen! Otherwise, I don't think your baby will live to see it's first birthday!" He threatened.
The guard stood up and charged at the laughing goblin. "I'll dismember you limb by limb if you touch a hair on his little body!"
"So I have your full attention then." Tobil continued. "I find your rage refreshing, you will be useful. Now, what I am about to propose to you is challenging, but if you prevail, then I will see you and your family is granted protection. Do you understand?"
Claudius nodded. "What n-needs t-to be done?"
"Good. It is nice to be respected." He said. "Now, for this plan I need you tell me where you came from."
Claudius was surprised by Tobil's interest in his personal details. "I c-came from Braeburn. Up in the mountains."
"No!" Tobil sighed. "Are you an idiot, I care not about your address. I just want to know what fort you were located in."
"Fort Major." Claudius answered as if it were obvious. "Just beside Mt. Vir."
"Thank you. Now, I am going to release you." He jingled the bronze keys in his hands. "If you attempt to escape I will order my jailors to destroy you. If you aim to attack me, then I will destroy you. Is that clear?"
Claudius muttered in reply.
"I will then escort you up the stairs and through the corridor. If you run I will catch you and have you killed. Is that clear?" He waited for a monosyllabic answer. "Once we are at the cave's exit, I will leave you to hike back to your fort and disable its fortifications. Do you understand?"
"Yes." He responded and then, with a weak effort of humour, he added melodramatically. "Thou Exalted Master."
"I love a minion with a sense humour." Said Tobil, his tone filled with cold sarcasm as shoved the rusty key into the corroded keyhole.
Unbeknownst to Claudius, Tobil had obtained a poisoned dagger from its covering and stabbed Claudius under his shoulder. The blade penetrated his armour and his flesh.
As Claudius fell backwards, Tobil enquired if Claudius had actually assumed that he could be trusted.
"Guards!" Commanded Tobil. "You know what to do!" As his guards ran to grab the toppling man, Tobil said. "I can trust no-one, that is why I have laced the dagger that I have just stabbed you with, with a sleeping draught. When you wake up, you will be under my control."
*
Malfa sat on a large stone, deftly searching through his provisions while keeping an eye on the horizon. The Fileteri Plains was a vast wasteland of grass with a scarce amount of villages. Farms and windmills dotted the hillsides and shepherds flocked from all around to take advantage of the untouched grass.
It had been three days since Zilnee had met Bronar and Malfa in the Palace and informed him of his destiny; to destroy Tobil and restore Cassini to its former, serene self. It had been three days since they had duelled some assassin, tasked with exterminating the Stranger Prince, and won. It had been three days since he had fled Crusada, his home, under the cover of darkness and embraced his future.
Zilnee slowly climbed up the boulder and sat beside Malfa. He positioned his staff beside him and acquired a small pouch from his pocket. Tucked snugly inside was a wooden pipe and a box of tobacco. Quietly, he lit the pipe, inserted the tobacco and began to puff. A stream of purple mist drifted from it and Malfa watched as it vanished into the sky.
"What I don't understand is why I am the Stranger Prince. I mean, it could have been anyone, right?" He said after a while.
Zilnee continued to blow away at the pipe, clearly formulating an answer in his head. "Are you familiar with King Malfa V?"
"Certainly. He's my great-great grandfather. He was the ruler of Crusada in the year 897 of the Ninth Empire up until his untimely death at the Battle of Crusada, which commenced in the year 950."
"Correct. Do you know why I'm asking?" When Malfa shook his head Zilnee told him why. "It is believed, by many intellectual scholars and thinkers, that he shared a great mutual bond with the Gods. This blessed him with the ability to converse with the Gods through a secret, paranormal barrier. Do you know what function that the White Table at the top of the Palace provides?"
"No. I thought it was just an ornament." Confessed Malfa, taking a loaf of bread out of his sack.
For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the only action was when Malfa offered Zilnee chunk of bread, which he declined.
"Well, I think it was the piece of equipment that the King used to communicate with the Gods. Nevertheless, it is still possible that it could have been a teleportation device, which I believe is evidenced by the fact that when he was the ruler, I grew accustomed to his random,
unexplained absences. How is this relevant to our situation I hear you ask, it is relevant because in the prophecy that Bronar showed me stated that you must open the Portal, through which the Gods will pour through and rebuild the word. Vanquishing evil and spreading peace. And Tobil doesn't want that, and neither does the Ancient Instigator."
"But that still doesn't explain why I'm the Stranger Prince and why it's not Bronar, you or the old drunk that sits at a gutter?" Malfa persisted.
"Well, if you'll allow me a history lesson then I'll tell you." Said Zilnee. "It is hypothesised that an ancient bloodline, thicker than any, runs through your family. It is thought that the creator of it was, and is, a god incarnated as a human, and he prophesised that one of his descendants, who is regarded by the gods as the redeemer of the human race, would defend his city from an attack against a soul contaminated by hate, violence and debauchery, and that when his foe returned, after being exiled from this world, he would try and seek revenge on his tormentor, by killing you."
Malfa, who was listening intently, requested that the High Druid recite the prediction. At the hearing of the words, Malfa felt himself grow stronger. He felt more complete.
"So who is the Ancient Instigator?" He inquired.
"Of that I have no idea. But, judging from the title, it must be an old, old foe. Probably older than Crusada, based on what I can recollect from the books I have read."
"So you've heard about him?"
"Vaguely." Answered the High Druid, clearing away his pipe.
"Is there any thing interesting about him?"
Zilnee smiled. "For you, no. For me, he has a beautiful piece history written about him, though there is no name. He enslaved half of the world once, at a time when humongous, international empires were normal. He also made goblins and orks by enacting malevolent magic on the now extinct Narves and was opposed by many, particularly by the True Empire, which I think is the foundation of this kingdom."
"So where are we going?" Malfa asked, noticing that a dark cloud in the distance was rapidly encroaching on them.
"Mmmm… I assume we would be safer if we took up residence at my brother's house. He will probably be able to tell us more about Tobil, the White Table and the Ancient Instigator. He boasts that he has a collection of incredibly uncommon books in his abode. He lives inside a mountain, his house is built in a graveyard, very reclusive if you ask me. Speaking of recluses and loners, where is Bronar?"
"He told me that he was going to collect firewood." Said Malfa thinking nothing of it. "See that black cloud over there, it looks suspicious."
Zilnee ignored him. "Why did Bronar feel the necessity to go and gather kindling when there is a huge pile already here?"
Malfa jumped up in the air and turned around. Zilnee was being truthful, there was all ready a fat mound of bone-dry wood stacked up beside a smouldering fire. Then, a shocking realisation struck him, what if Bronar had left them.
"That's peculiar. Bronar would never do that, he's too loyal to me. We're best friends, he would never abandon me." He said, already unsure of himself.
"Maybe jealousy got the better of him."
In the uncertainty, the dark, almost surreal-looking clouds had reached their position and had begun to pulsate and expand. Ash-like residue fell to the ground, singeing the thick vegetation, while the ground rumbled viciously. A violent, blue surge of lightning thundered down from the storm and hit the ground directly beside Malfa, who dived to the floor not a moment to soon.
There was an acrid smell, but Malfa's disgust didn't last long as a bunch of lightning forks thumped into the ground in a circular formation. To Malfa and Zilnee's horror, seven intimidating figures formed from the fading electricity, swords and spiked clubs at their sides. Each of them wore faces of pure contempt and cruelty, as if they had been sent on many other assignments like this one and loved killing.
"It's them!" Roared one of the opponents, struggling to make him be heard over the deafening whistle of the wind blowing around them.
"What do you want?" Asked Zilnee, his face showing signs of anger.
"We just want a word with the prince over there! His daddy is looking for him!" Then he added. "He's very sad! He just wishes his son was home, safe and sound!"
"We know that the king is no longer in control of his mind! Turn back now, I don't want to fight, but I warn you, I have stopped armies before." Yelled the High Druid.
Zilnee put a protective arm around Malfa, as if trying to shield him from view, as the thugs flooded towards them. He was sure that they were a part of the same group that had ambushed him outside of the Palace.
At the last minute, when the brute that was in the lead was only metres away from them, Zilnee shoved Malfa onto the ground and unleashed a spectacular display of fire on his foes. Only two outlaws had been hit, so the rest of the small army encircled on Zilnee, intent on avenging there fallen comrades. The High Druid narrowly managed to conjure a defensive spell, just as one of his challengers leapt at him. The bandit dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, as Zilnee had imbued electricity in his supernatural shield.
"Coward!" Jeered a man wearing a black, leather visor. "You magic-users act all high an' mighty, but in reality you are all scum-fil-." He wasn't able to deliver the last part of his colourful curse as an axe-wielding silhouette had appeared behind him and evicted him unceremoniously from the battle.
The recently joined warrior quickly disposed of another raider; nevertheless, his immense strength didn't stop him being overpowered, and soon he was lying on the floor with a knife inches from his throat.
During these events, Malfa had crept over to his rucksack and unearthed his sword. He charged at the crook trying to stab the helmeted combatant, his silver blade glistening even though there was hardly any light.
Too engrossed in his attempt to mortally wound his enemy, the villain didn't detect Malfa's presence. Malfa pierced his fiend's armour and proceeded to kick him in the back. The man cartwheeled over the now helmet less fighter, surely dead. Zilnee, using his amazing magical abilities, expertly picked off the remaining scoundrels effortlessly.
As soon as the last opposition team member was blasted away by the High Druid, the storm miraculously cleared, leaving the place as dry and untouched as ever. The bodies evaporated, Zilnee later claiming that it was down to whoever sent them not wanting to reveal their identity to them, and all other possible evidence was removed in the blink of an eye.
When Malfa went over to inspect the downed man that had helped them, he found out that it was Bronar, laughing despite the blood dripping down his face. He spat some red liquid from his mouth and sat up.
"What a way to get the blood pumping!" He chuckled, slotting his blade into its scabbard.
Malfa decided to join in with the hilarity, and joked. "Not bad! Not bad at all, considering the fact that your arms are about the size of Menol Sol."
"You weren't too bad either, for a lightweight that is!" Retorted Bronar, embracing Malfa in a spine-breaking hug.
"Ahh… I think you broke my rib!" Exclaimed Malfa, breaking of the vice-like grip. "Where'd you get that helmet, I've never seen it before?"
The helmet, which Bronar had found in the forest while searching for wood, had two yellowing, keratin horns protruding from its iron base. Three dents marked the surface.
"Why'd you go looking for firewood if we've already got some?" Queried Malfa.
"What?" Yelled Bronar. "I spent ages looking for some wood to burn when we had some! I guess you'll be ok when I say I dropped it when I was coming to help you."
"Let's get a move on, shall we? If we don't hurry, then Zilnee will be gone. You know, he surprises me some times with his athletic capability."
Bronar snorted. "Yeah! For an old man he's astoundingly agile! He must be, what, two hundred and fifty years old."
Malfa and Bronar raced across the grass, eager to be the first one to catch up with Zilnee. As they neared the old man, Bronar sent Malfa sprawling to the floor with a well-aimed elbow.
"You shouldn't treat your friends like that, Bronar. One day you might wake up and find him dead." Said Zilnee.
Bronar raised an eyebrow. "Ok."
"Only joking. Sometimes my pessimism gets the better of me. Anyway, nice hit." Apologized the High Druid, stopping so that Malfa could catch up on them.
"Thanks."
"Did Ronar teach you that?" Questioned Zilnee.
Bronar nodded. "Why do you ask?"
"Hmmm… He could be vital in helping Malfa on his quest. How many people does he command?"
"Erm… I think it's in the region of about two thousand to three thousand people." Replied Bronar.
"And he also has control over a small quantity of the populace living in Drooding." Zilnee carried on asking, despite the fact that he already knew the answer. "Is that correct?"
"Certainly. But how is this important?"
"I'll explain later. Ahh… Malfa, I see you've caught up with us. Come on, hurry up!" Said Zilnee with a voice of conclusiveness.
In the distance, shrouded from sight, a winged figure stalked its prey patiently, waiting and watching, trying to discover their ways. Swooping through a cloud, the beast observed the three people ambling leisurely towards a stone bridge.
After their little duel with the assassins, Malfa and his associates journeyed across the valley, setting up camp after a few hours. At daybreak, they crossed over the Old Bridge, carefully evading the stern-looking toll-man who guarded the little stone crossing. At the banks of a small river, Bronar began to fish, vigilantly looking around to check if he was being watched, and after a while he had got them enough food to last them until they reached Kashagara's home.
From there, they had travelled 12 miles to the west, before traipsing through a stony ridge. The ridge, known to locals as the Dark Gulch, surrounded a greenish-looking loch, and was the only apparent way to cross the river without going across the bridge.
With a touch of anxiety, Malfa warily edged along a rough path, made by hundreds of feet passing through it every year. A trickle of dust fell into the still lagoon, sending ripples pulsing through it.
"This pathway is very unstable!" Shouted Malfa. "Can we turn back?"
Zilnee was just about to make a verdict when a big section of the rock shattered and tumbled into the water. Bronar, who was walking on it, managed to cling on to a strong root, while Malfa and Zilnee walked back to assist him. The root that Bronar was dangling from snapped, just as Malfa reached down to grab him. It was close, but at the last second Bronar had stretched his arm up and grabbed Malfa's sweaty hand. The gap, which had almost "eaten" Bronar, was too large for them to jump.
"I guess that means we'll have to keep going this way. " Decided the High Druid.
For hours, they snaked along the edge, only halting when they reached the other side of the valley. It was nighttime; the sky was a pristine purple as a result, only spoiled by the vast amount of yellow stars hanging in space and the bright, luminous moon.
Soon, they had erected a shabby camp, complete with a roaring fire and a tattered tent. Sitting in silence, Malfa, Bronar and Zilnee wolfed down some fish and dried herbs, listening to the crackling embers. When Bronar finished eating, he went around and collected the remains of tonight's dinner: bones and stinking guts. He disposed of the smelly assortment by throwing it in a tiny hole.
"So, where is your brothers house?" Wondered Malfa aloud.
Zilnee stretched his head upwards and peered at the horizon. Located far away, only discernible as an outline, was some towering, snow-capped mountains, obtruding from the mostly flat land.
He pointed towards to them. "Over there. His home is inside that giant mountain, Menol Fal I believe it's called."
"How far away is it? Will we be there by tomorrow?"
"Perchance. It is humanly possible, and it's only about ten kilometres away. As the crow flies." Answered Zilnee.
Malfa scanned his surroundings, spotting blooming flowers, coniferous trees and meandering streams. Over to his left was some shrubbery, overgrown and wild, bordering a dirt walkway, while at his right was the remnants of a now burnt house. Daises covered the ground like vast white curtains and weeds thrived.
As his eyes wandered up to the sky, he saw a faded shadow soaring in the heavens. It had a slight draconic look to it and Malfa was startled.
"Look!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet in shock. "Is that a dragon?"
Zilnee whirled around, while Bronar walked over to see what was the cause of the commotion.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"Can you see that?" Malfa replied. "Look! Up there in the sky, it's a dragon!"
Zilnee stared at the speeding outline. "It's merely a bird." He responded, already unsure of himself. "Dragons haven't been seen on Eusiac for over five hundred years. The nearest place to us that they inhabit is the Island Archipelagos of Planeteri, that's more than one thousand miles away. There is no-way that a dragon could fly that distance on its own, contrary to popular belief they are extremely sociable creatures, they would die of loneliness if they came this far on there own."
"It could've immigrated along with some of its friends." Said Malfa, still watching the clouds.
"It is possible, but dragons aren't the type of beasts to make long, sporadic ventures into unknown territory without good reason. They've been frightened of us since the time of King Malf III. The only ones audacious enough to attack us are the Great Black Dragons and the Elders. Besides, the Eagles of Menol Sol would have sensed their presences and alerted me accordingly." He answered.
"It's gone now." Informed Bronar. "Maybe it was just an illusion or an oddly shaped cloud. Let's get some sleep."
Zilnee and Bronar walked into the tent, leaving Malfa outside. Malfa was sure that it wasn't just a bird or a figment of his imagination, he was certain that it was a dragon. However, as he searched the sky once more, he thought to himself that maybe it was his overactive mind seeing figures in the clouds.
When he retired for the night, a large creature soared through the air, glad that it hadn't been caught. It would follow its quarry until it had cornered itself. Then it would strike.
*
After what seemed like years, Malfa and his cohorts reached the outskirts of Menol Fal. Menol Fal, Elvish for the Mountain of Solitude, was the third largest mountain in Mithraleen and rightly named as it not only housed a hermit, but was also the only rocky prominence for miles around. It was also partially hidden behind seas of trees and bushes and there were no visible entrances.
After circling the perimeter of the mountain twice, Malfa complained. "We've been going round in circles for ages, are you even sure that this is the correct place?"
Zilnee growled. "I've already told you that this is the exact place. We just need to find a peculiar-looking rock and then I'll cast a few spells. Hopefully the opening will appear and we'll be able to go inside."
Bronar, who had been scrutinizing the ground closely, found the abnormal stone and shouted. "Is this it?"
Zilnee trotted over to him, using his staff for support. He seized the rock from Bronar and examined it. The stone looked more like a statuette than anything. It depicted a man, withered away by years of arduous labour, with broad shoulders and a grim face. Three vertical scars were streaked across his face and his marble hair was matted with dirt. He carried a bag of supplies and a stick.
"Yes!" Yelled Zilnee. "This is it, the Sculpture of Isolation."
The High Druid proceeded to place the small statue at the foot of the mountain, chanting:
"Mountainio etr Soltines,
Jen Bringiy non Dangerou,
Inosted, Jen Bringiy Hopee,
Openio, etn Jen wil Showen Nej!"
Streams and rivers of glittering gold liquid flowed from Zilnee as he spoke, each new syllable marked with a brighter explosion of yellow. Gradually, the colourful fluid, which passed right through Malfa and Bronar as if they were non-existent, circled a specific part of the rock, forming a shape around it. Then, hardly visible because of a surreal mist swirling near it, the golden rivulet started to solidify. Suddenly, a thunderous noise pierced the still sky, causing a flock of birds to empty from a near-by forest, and a large hole was blasted into the mountain about thirty metres above Malfa, Bronar and Zilnee.
Miraculously, there was no cave-in and only a gentle trickle of pebbles escaped the newly-built cavern entrance. Malfa groaned as they were going to have to scale the steep, hazardous mountain. Even though the opening was only a few mere metres away, the section that they had to climb was extremely precipitous and nigh-on vertical.
After an hour, they had managed to ascend to the same height as the doorway, however they did not survive unscathed. Almost every inch of Malfa's body was covered with ugly, purple bruises, long and bleeding cuts, lacerations and gaping gashes. Bronar was practically in the same condition, with Zilnee being the only one to be relatively unhurt.
When the High Druid arrived at him, after healing Bronar, Malfa questioned him about it. Zilnee responded by saying that his aptitude for magic had granted him a type of immunity against physically damage.
"So if I become magically adept then I'll be resistant to being stabbed?" Said Malfa, a hint of humour in his voice.
"Well, I suppose in theory that that would be possible, however even my magical proficiency only allows invulnerability towards minor wounds." He replied, putting his hands over Malfa's many injuries.
Bit by bit, Malfa's skin was sealed up and any indication that he had ever cut himself whilst clambering up the mountain was removed. Malfa thanked his healer and stood up, stretching and checking to see if Zilnee had forgotten to mend any scratches.
Bronar also stood up and trotted over to Malfa, asking if they were going to camp outside or go in. Malfa let Zilnee decide; not only because he was easily the smartest of the three, but also because it was his brother's abode that they were entering.
"Mmmm…" Mumbled Zilnee, his hand resting on his chin. He glanced around and saw that it was still early in the morning so it was probable that they would reach Kashagara's house by sundown. "We should. My brother's house is located directly at the heart of the mountain so if we don't leave now we'll most likely have to sleep outside, and let me warn you, things darker than even the most hostile troll inhabit this mountain."
Bronar, who had been designated as the "pack-mule", swung the bag holding their provisions over his shoulder and followed Malfa and Zilnee inside, through the large stone breach. Little did they know that a ravenous, heartless atrocity was also pursuing them.
*
The huge cavity inside the Mountain of Solitude was little more than a bewildering, disorientating labyrinth, with a maze of paths that broke off from the main one, forming entirely new sections. Deposits of silver and gold, too diminutive in quantity to make a profit from, lined the sloping walls and the remains of a once technologically advanced civilization lay strewn along the floor. Creeping mounds of dry moss crawled through the cave, projecting through cracks and holes. Bones of animals, big and small, lay in a messy heap, most showing signs of violence and a struggle. The cavern smelt of decay and isolation, as if no one had ever walked through halls, however, the proof on the ground told a different story.
From the pickaxes and hammers tucked neatly on the walls, Malfa presumed that the mountain had once been a dwarven mine. The Dwarfish statues and models hidden between fractures in the stone further supported his theory. There were also some Elvish items concealed secretly under piles of rock, giving Malfa a feeling that this had once been home to the now vanished race of Mountain Elves.
The whole mountain appeared to be a treasure trove of lost knowledge, useful and useless. As he was a Druid, and naturally inquisitive, Zilnee often made odd remarks when he saw the broken equipment, ranging from one-worded whispers to long exclamations, usually making Bronar chuckle.
"What's so interesting?" asked Malfa, obviously irritated by the High Druids pointless statements and observations.
Zilnee faced Malfa wearing a look of surprise. "This whole cave! The murals on the wall, the technology, the traces of a once powerful nation, superior to our own!"
They strolled along in silence, uninformed of the stealthy figure, dressed in red, sneaking behind them. It had been chasing them since they set foot in the cave, guarding it and protecting it. It wielded a sword and a bow, though, following its masters bidding, it had not used them.
For hours, without eating or resting, Malfa and his friends trudged through the spiralling roads, frequently taking a wrong turning and having to plod back again. The regular incorrect turns caused Malfa to have an angry outburst.
"Where is your brother's house Zilnee? We have been travelling for ages without food or water and we're not even there yet!"
"Okay then." Said Zilnee in a tone of resign. "We will rest, but hurry up! We'll have to move soon."
Malfa quickly dived a Bronar, knocking his bags off of his shoulder. Hastily, he ripped one open and deftly snatched a juicy apple from within. Malfa's unusually loud crunching and munching punctuated the air for several minutes. Bronar and Zilnee eat slower, and with more etiquette.
Malfa licked his lip and speedily went for another apple, which he devoured even faster than the last one. By the time Malfa had finished his fourth apple, Zilnee and Bronar were just finishing their second.
"I guess we know who invented gluttony." Bronar chuckled, wiping his face with the back of his hand to remove the crumps left by his meal.
Malfa was just about to pilfer a fifth one, however, Zilnee apprehended him. "We'll need all the food we can get to reach where we're needing to go to. If you keep munching it all then we'll starve or we'll have to pick berries and hunt deer."
"Where is it we are going, exactly?" Questioned Malfa.
"All will be revealed later." Answered the High Druid, as if he hadn't even acknowledged Malfa's question as an enquiry. "Now, have some water."
Malfa took the water suspiciously before gulping in down. He then raised an eyebrow when Zilnee didn't scold him for downing the whole contents.
After their short break, they travelled into an area of the cavern where junction and intersections were a rarity. It comprehensible that this part of the cave was used more as apple cores and rotten food were scattered around the path.
"Are we there yet?" Queried Malfa.
"No." Said Zilnee.
"How about now?"
"Not yet!" Zilnee groaned, his face slowly turning into a hue of red.
Eventually, when Malfa had asked for the thirteenth time, Zilnee said. "Yes!"
Malfa and Bronar stared at where Zilnee was pointing: an impassable wall. The barrier, which was surrounded by a variety of thriving plants not found anywhere else in the cave, was sanded down and smooth, unlike the rest of the walls in the grotto that were rough and jagged. For a moment, Malfa thought that his relentless barrage of meaningless questions had rendered the High Druid into a crazy lunatic, but that changed when he strode through the rock as if it weren't there.
Malfa and Bronar exchanged shocked looks. "How did he do that?"
"He must have used magic! That means that we're stuck until he chooses to come back and rescue us!" Moaned Bronar.
"Well he better hurry up! This place is making me shiver, and it feels haunted."
Bronar gasped in fright as a shocking realisation hit him. "Do you remember what the High Druid told us? About the sentinels that protect this place!"
Malfa drew his steel sword, just as a Wraith, half-corporeal, half-ethereal beings dedicated to guarding certain holy places after being damned by the Gods, floated around an angle. The spectre emitted a low, sorrowful noise from its mouth that was perpetually open and its ragged, red cloak flapped madly, even though there was no breeze. In its misty hand, held firmly, was a long, silver dagger, encrusted with the blood of intruders.
As it hovered towards Malfa and Bronar, all of the vegetation turned into ice, due to the frost generated by the phantom's callousness. Malfa knew that Wraiths had a fatal weakness towards fire, however he was too unskilled to even attempt a weak fire spell.
When the ghost was a few feet away from Malfa, raising its hands to get enough power to make his attack lethal, Malfa swiped at it. His sword cut through the air and almost took the spirits head off, however, his assault was futile as his enemy executed a well-timed dodge.
The Wraith advanced on Malfa, gradually sapping him of all his strength, and then lashed out at him, knocking Malfa to the ground. The ghost bent over and began to vanquish Malfa, but Bronar, who had surreptitiously got behind the monster, drove his weapon into its skull, stopping him instantly. The phantom screamed and howled in pain, before exploding into tiny particles that were soon evaporated.
The red rag drifted into the air and wrapped around a metal pole. "It looks like a flag." Observed Bronar, as the torn material rippled slightly.
Malfa ignored this comment. "How do we get through?"
Immediately, his question was answered when the face of a dishevelled, dirty man with a long and crooked nose popped out of the block of stone. "Hurry up, will you!" He croaked, in a voice reminiscent of Zilnee's. "I don't want another ghoul passing by here with you destroying it, do you know how hard they are to find? You can't just walk down to the local store and demand one!"
And without further ado, his head vanished. Malfa and Bronar swapped confused stares and shrugged. "We may as well try." Said Bronar.
Malfa edged suspiciously towards the oddly illuminated wall, worried to think what would happen if he couldn't get through. As soon as his hand connected with the rock, he felt as if he was submerged in freezing water. Icy daggers stabbed him brutally and every single nerve in his body screamed at him, telling him to get out of the cold. For a second, he couldn't breathe and his lungs filled with an ice-like material. He could hear his heart hammering away, trying to defy the cold and pump blood around his body.
Pg 36 The Holy House of Blueblood
Spots began to form in his eyes and he felt the frosty claws of Death wrap around his neck. Soon, he would be a cadaver, rigid and frozen. He tried to push through but his only movements were spasms. Suddenly, he sensed arms wind around his arms, however they didn't belong to Death.
As Malfa was dragged through the wall and rested on the ground, he heard a familiar voice shout.
"Brother, your "security measures" almost killed the person we are supposed to protect! Go and do something useful, like telling Bronar how to get here without dying."
Malfa opened his eyes. His vision was imprecise, hazy. He groaned as a figure marched by him and disappeared. A second shape came into view, a concerned look on its old, withered face.
"Are you alright?" It asked. "It's me Zilnee." Malfa gave him a baffled stare. The High Druid chuckled. "Come on boy! Surely you remember me. No?"
"Oh… You." Muttered Malfa, his vision recovering.
Zilnee helped him up, chortling. "You could be a bit more thankful. I just saved your life. Anyway," He said. "Welcome to my family home. The Holy House of Blueblood."
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Funny mistake!
