Izaryle's Prison Page 16

  “Blood seemed to do the trick for me.”

  “Blood?” Krenin asked, taken back by the response.

  “Yes, blood. A single drop was all it took. It soaked into the page and returned as writing.”

  “Doesn’t seem very sanitary. Oh well.” Drawing his dagger, Ravion laid a shallow gash along the backside of his forearm just deep enough to expose the red life fluid. The beading droplets hit the page, disappearing immediately. Almost as quickly as they’d vanished the book sprang to life revealing passages, maps, pictures, and even the occasional spell.

  Gareth leaned over, surprised by the scribing red lines appearing on the page. “It didn’t show me even a fraction of that. What makes your blood so special?”

  Ravion scanned the words paying special attention to the smallest of details. “Because my people, or at least someone very familiar with my people, wrote this book!”

  “You’re sure this is where you found him?” Ravion stared into the mirror watching the dulled reflection of his friends.

  “Absolutely. My mace was here, what other evidence do you need?”

  Demetrix ran his hand along the dust covered, polished surface. “What’s every portal have?” He turned to look at the others.

  “Magic.” Krenin answered, giving a toothy smile.

  “Two sides.” Ravion corrected.

  “Exactly. This thing radiates magic unlike any I've felt before, but it’s not pulling. It’s pushing. If we're translating the book properly this is a portal. One side is here. Where’s the other?”

  Ravion removed the book from the satchel, flipping through the pages to a specific passage. They refused to hide their contents so long as he held possession of the tome. “All it says is ‘The world builder has grown unstable. Tasked by the gods we built the prison, locking it away behind reflections of the past. It was an unfortunate loss, but the good of all creation remains at stake. The doorway shall serve as the only link to our divine providence. May all those abandoned forgive us, for there was no other choice. Should the seals be broken, all hope is lost, for the gods have failed!' It's cryptic, but I can't shake the feeling that the dreu were trying to open this doorway. I can't imagine they succeeded. I'd think we'd know if a dark god was descending upon our world, but we also have to assume they made some progress. As protectors of this land, I believe it falls to us to reestablish any broken seals that may have been damaged.”

  Gareth listened intently, absorbing the words. “You want to go into some unknown prison with an evil god and make sure he hasn't broken free? You know I have your back but that is the stupidest idea I've ever heard escape your mouth. That's no different than unlocking a cell that holds the vilest of creatures just to see if it was actually locked in the first place. Why risk it?”

  An unexpected voice echoed in the small chamber, drawing their attention. “I’m afraid you have little choice.” Perrimen stood at the entrance, taking in the sight of the three men and their half-orc. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Ravion took a knee, bowing before the former baron. “My Liege, what would you have of us?”

  “I would have you stand. I’m not your baron. You really must accept this.”

  Ravion returned to his feet, welcoming the powerful human. “You’ll always be my baron. Regardless of any respect I have for the lords and their titles, I’ve sworn oath to no other.”

  “Spoken like a true warrior of the dalari.” Perrimen strode toward the mirror, stopping just in front of it.

  Ravion watched the man, recalling their last meeting. “What brings you here, if it’s my place to know?”

  “In truth I came seeking you, all of you. Since the fall of the dreu a vast darkness has set over Dalmoura. It was slowed with the banishment of your alter-ego.” Perrimen turned, looking directly at Demetrix. “But it continues to build. I fear time for containment has passed. The source must be stopped or all will be lost. The Tower is no more. They didn’t heed my warning quick enough. The base stones were corrupted beyond repair. Perhaps she’ll return in time, but alas I cannot promise. A darkness has set in the heart of Shadgull. Tresengal is without an experienced lord. Mount Thuran hides behind their walls, ignoring the rest of us. I'm afraid the last pockets of resistance fall between Marbayne and Krondar. Since one is currently supporting the other, I’m afraid this task falls to your order.”

  “What would the source of this corruption be?” Gareth interjected, testing the mage. He knew there wouldn't be a direct response.

  “That I cannot answer, wish as I may. Sadly I’m just a broken man with little more than a handful of knowledge to pass along.” Perrimen returned his focus to the mirror, looking into its dark surface. Running his hand along the edge, he refused to touch it. “The shadow threatens us beyond this speculum. I doubt it can truly be stopped, but if anyone can slow its progression I believe you to be our best chance.” Spinning around Perrimen marched toward the entrance, giving his final insight. “As for your current predicament I’d suggest asking your new friends about this mirror’s twin. I believe they’ll be able to offer more knowledge than I. And Ravion, keep it close. You’ll need it.” Reaching the entryway, Perrimen paused, looking over the group of dreuslayers one final time. “I wish you the utmost success. We're all counting on you, whether we know it or not.” Without another word he stepped into his unhindered door of swirling energy and disappeared.

  “I hate when they do that.” Gareth shook his head, walking toward the mirror. “I’ll never see eye to eye with his brother. Impossible on two fronts now, but I understand he is not his brother. I know you trust him. It’s not like they’re many dreu left for me to play with here.” Gareth placed his hand on Ravion's shoulder. “I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

  Demetrix and Krenin approached the pair, awaiting a decision.

  “I don’t care what it says! I don’t want anything to do with that book.” Senaria turned away, refusing to look at the pages.

  “It’s not my intention to press, I just need to know what you know about the mirrors.” Ravion closed the book, shoving it back into the satchel. Pulling a chair, he sat. “Please enlighten me and I’ll be out of your hair, never to ask you about it again.

  Senaria turned to face him. Approaching, she sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around shoulders. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She kissed his cheek. “You and I both know what would happen the next time I have knowledge you might need.”

  Ravion found it strange to think of her as one of the dreualfar. She seemed so familiar despite the coldness she often displayed when protecting her people. She was strong and capable. Traits he was all too familiar with. A faint smile breached his lips. “An unfortunate side effect to my position. I'm sorry. I know you don't want to talk about your past, and I don't mean to pry.”

  She sighed heavily, keeping her arms around him. “The dreualfar have many myths about their creation. One in particular says a dark mirror sucked the magic from their bodies, turning them into warriors of the night. Many variations have come and gone, but that’s always the general perception.”

  Releasing her hold she stretched across him, grabbing the table's edge to keep herself firmly seated. Finding the hidden lever, Senaria watched the edge of the drawer appear. Pulling it open she grabbed a stack of parchment and quickly flipped through, finding one in particular that was torn around the edges and stained with yellow and black. It appeared as if someone had tried burning it. There were several small holes throughout and the corners were nearly gone. Handing the aged sheet to Ravion, she continued. “Shortly after Nezial took power rumors surfaced that someone had found a map to Eldarian. I didn’t know if there was any truth to it, at least I wasn’t. Not until I found that. I believed it nothing more than a rumor. The council was known to circulate such rumors to promote work among the less willful. Even those of us driven by an unquenchable thirst found solace in the prospect of a life away from battle. We were little more than slaves t
o the council's will. We'd work ourselves to death in pursuit of a simple life, only for another to come along and pick up where we left off. Many of us learned their tricks and simply stopped playing. But thousands of others had no choice. It kept the council in power, while distracting the rest and keeping us from rising up. So when I found this map I didn't believe what it was.” Senaria gestured him to look.

  Ravion unfolded the parchment and studied the markings stained into the rough surface. He could see the forest's edge of what he guessed was Evinwood. Near the northwest corner of the forest there was an opening marked by a jutting tower and a freestanding archway beneath it. It wasn't much to go on, but it was better than anything else he had. Folding the map, Ravion returned his attention to her.

  “The myth claims that the mirror is in Eldarian. If this map is real that's where you'll find it. Though I must admit, I hope you never do. Nothing good has come from that place.” Pressing her lips against his, she held him for several moments. Breaking away, Senaria looked deep into his eyes. “I don't want to lose you.”

  “I don't want to lose you either. I’m sorry for asking you to recall darker times. I know those memories haunt you. I swear to you here and now. I won't ask you to do so again, even if you're the only person who has the knowledge I seek. I'd rather go without than to force you to relive that life.” Ravion pulled her tight, feeling her warmth. “I'm afraid this is something I must do. I don't know what it will require of me or even how long I'll be gone. Just know that I love you. And I'll be back to you as soon as I'm able.”

  Senaria stood, allowing him to rise. “Please be careful. I don't want to know a life without you.” She wrapped her hands in his, feeling their connection stronger than ever.

  “Be safe, my love. If you require anything in my absence send a message to Marbayne. I’ve left specific instructions with a loyal operative named William Carter. He'll handle any situations that may arise with the utmost discretion.” Ravion pulled her close, bringing his lips to hers. It was a lingering kiss, one that nearly stopped time. He didn't know how long he'd be away from her. And if this was his last kiss he wanted it to be a memorable one. Breaking away, Ravion stared into those almond shaped eyes, full of love. “I'll see you soon.”

  Senaria knew he wasn't being fully honest. She could feel the uncertainty in him. He didn't know if he was going to come back any more than she did. Such was the life of a soldier. Each time they marched into battle they took a chance on it being their last. She forced a smile, reassuring him. “Thank you, my love. I'll dream of you every night you’re away, longing for the day you're in my arms again. Please, be careful. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

  Jagged vines wrapped around the black structure, leaving an eerie dread over the dead lands. The ground was cracked in all directions. Little more than dry grass and vicious, barbed weeds sprouted through the desolate dirt, strangling anything they could find.

  Krenin stared into the face of an orc statue erected at the entrance of the temple, the only structure that remained completely unhindered by time. “Feels like his eyes follow me.” Krenin wobbled back and forth, testing his theory.

  “Often times such artifacts are designed to entice that feeling. It makes the observer feel uneasy and therefore easier to manipulate.” Demetrix knocked on the statue listening to the solid stone against his knuckles. “See, it’s only stone.”

  “Let’s get this over with. I don’t like the smell of this place.” Gareth stepped through the cracked opening, pushing against the stone door in his path. It opened freely, granting access. Drawing one of his twin cutlasses, Gareth marched into shadow.

  Ravion followed closely behind, lost in the architecture around him. He could see the clear signs of his people, but these markings were something else. They flowed like eldar, but the symbols weren't of any dialect he'd seen. Making his way into the ancient temple he felt dwarfed by the sheer space around them.

  “See anything?” Krenin asked, searching the room for anything of interest.

  “Over there.” Gareth pointed his cutlass toward the altar on the far side of the room. One of the nearby doors stood open, awaiting their entry. “Only open door I've seen. I'd guess that’s where the previous visitors ventured.”

  The group crossed the room, finding the small antechamber off the side of the nave. Stepping into the ancient stairwell, the walls flared to life. The mounted scones glowed a purple flame, illuminating their descent around the twisting corridor. Reaching the bottom they passed into the small room. A pile of purple stone lay crumbled in the center and the rear wall was reflective, much like the mirror they'd previously seen.

  Ravion felt a strange familiarity with the stone. He could feel the dagger calling to him, begging to be touched. Fighting against its will he stepped past the crumbled stone and approached the ancient speculum. Pressing his hand against the semi-solid surface, ripples expanding from his touch. “It looks like this is the place.” Talking a deep breath he walked through, feeling the water-like substance swallow him.

  One by one they pressed onward leaving the dark chamber behind them.

  Chapter XIII

  Through the Looking Glass

  The stench of decay and dirt filled the room, leaving a sense of dread to linger in the forgotten crypt. The surrounding ancient stones were covered in dark green moss clinging to the crumbled mortar, like ivy following the grooves. Several memorial plots lined the side walls, worn smooth and colored white from age. The patchy gray stones between the hanging moss made the dark chamber feel constricting and isolated. A single arched tunnel, full of disappearing stairs, angled upward from the center of the far wall.

  Demetrix ran his fingers along the worn stone, feeling what was left of the carvings. They were too shallow to see and even harder to feel. Seeing Krenin step through the flowing mirror he glanced to his brother. “They’re nearly worn off.”

  Ravion studied his brother’s interest. “What?”

  “The names and dates. They’re nearly worn off. If we could read the markings we stand a chance at figuring out where we are.”

  “We’re not gonna find anything in this crypt. I say we see what’s outside, maybe there’s a town nearby.” Refusing to wait for objections Gareth marched toward the decrepit stairway.

  Krenin followed after Gareth, watching the bald man disappear from sight. He ducked at the top of the archway to keep from hitting his head on the low keystone.

  “Maybe we should check the book?” Ravion grabbed the leather satchel noticing its lack of weight. Frantically he pulled the flap open and peered inside. Fear crept from the depths of his mind. How could he find his way without direction? “It’s missing!” Pulling against the seams, Ravion searched for holes, unable to find one. Sighing heavily he accepted the fact it was gone. They were on their own. Subconsciously he reached inside his vest, wrapping his hand around the wicked kris tucked away from sight. He couldn't explain it, but holding the blade made him feel less lost. It was as if his worries weren't so severe when the weapon was in his grip.

  “It's not in here. And I doubt we can go back to find it. Best thing we can do is keep moving forward.” Demetrix watched his brother's face. He was discouraged more than he'd ever shown in the past. There was something larger going on with him. He just didn't know what. Though if Ravion had a secret there was a reason he kept it. He'd talk when the time was right. Approaching, Demetrix patted his shoulder. “Let's go. Gareth's liable to start a war if we don't keep him out of trouble.”

  Ravion chuckled at the thought, marching toward the arch.

  Gareth pushed against the spongy door. The wood was soft and moist, leaving a slick residue on his hands. Stepping into the derelict graveyard Gareth looked around. The trees were tall and ominous. Judging by the lack of foliage on the ground, he guess they were eternally absent their leaves. The wicked branches stretched in all directions showing dark contrasts to the cloudy, gray sky. It was clearly daylight though the sun had trouble
penetrating the rolling, dark clouds. Instead it filtered through laying a soft glow over the frigid and uninviting landscape. The weather held a gloomy chill that only autumn could bring. The vegetation littering the ground was just as welcoming, twisted around anything it could reach, strangling it with vicious thick barbs and constricting bands. He recalled the weeds in Eldarian, finding an uncomfortable similarity between the two.

  “See a town?” Krenin glanced around clearly unimpressed by his findings.

  “Does it look like I've found a town?” Gareth searched the horizon in all directions. It was difficult to make out any structures past the sea of dead trees.

  “No!”

  Shaking his head at the half-orc's literal interpretation of sarcasm, Gareth found himself missing Malakai. The man was always good for keeping the brute distracted with such simple concepts. Taking a deep breath he continued his search.

  The soft glow above the clouds faded at an exceptional rate turning the gray sky into a black, starless night. It happened so fast their eyes hadn't had a chance to adjust to the change. In the distance a branch snapped, drawing attention. Jumping into defensive positions the group drew their weapons, ready to face whatever foes presented themselves.

  A low moan echoed through the dark, barren forest sending a cold shiver down their spines. Another followed, and another, each time moving closer. It was clear there was more than one, many more in fact, though it was hard to tell exactly how many.

  “Do you hear that?” Ravion asked, searching the total darkness for a source. He wasn't used to his vision in this place. Such a change shouldn't have left him blinded, yet he couldn't see anything.

  “Of course I hear it. What the hell is it would be a more suitable question.” Gareth scoffed. “Can you see anything?”

  “Nope. It reminds me of that spell the dreu use, but that's a small area. I've never seen it on this scale before.” Ravion kept his sword at the ready, using the tip to test his reach.