The Watcher

It's been far too long, so I thought it was time for me to put something else up.


The sun glinted with a pang of regret, its failing rays trickling gently over flat and crest. Shadows flickered eagerly as their tendrils flared out to envelop the landscape. A quiet unease flooded the ground, as the animals in the forest struggled with the failing light and the people in the valley rushed to escape the oncoming darkness.

As the light faded, more eyes surveyed the land with a different intent, readying for the coming evening with a keen taste of its offerings. The twilight bred a disquiet that passed as the night grew stronger, the passing from day to night presenting itself as a greater evil. The nocturnal creatures bade their time with patience for their equal share of the land, awaiting their chance to forage, hunt and live.

Alone, in silence, lay those who watched both the creatures of night and day. Watching with ceaseless gazes and unrelenting fervour, observing everything with an interest unmatched. The passionate thirst for knowledge and balance drove their thoughts, a lust not slaked by a normal life.

Those watchful eyes drooled over the scene below their furrowed ridge, a pock marked face peering with ferocity into the valley. Their owner's mind whirled with possibilities as he surveyed with acute vision, practice and experience picking up the smallest movements of all things.

The sway of a bush as a cat stalked underneath it, the gentle swish of the tree leaves as a possum leapt from one to another, the flutter of a bat's wings cast against the night sky all stood out for his gaze. His pricked ears heard the casual rustle of leaves filtered out so it barely registered in his mind, that white noise barely a whisper beneath the sounds of movement for all manner of beasts prowling in the dark.

Two figures made their way across a clearing towards their homes. They had tarried too long in the late afternoon and were forced to make their way home by the light of the moon. The night sounds were a disturbance to them, unused to the foreign sounds of nocturnal life. The watcher did not find amusement or feel pity due to the fear dripping from their muted tones of their useless babble.

He pitied their ignorance. He felt regret that they had never learned to observe or listen to their surroundings apart from the sheltered existence they knew. He held his place as the event approached. His pity redoubled as he knew the people had no clue what was about to happen.

The creature came from a patch of thick scrub near the tree line, bursting forth with bared teeth, venom in its heart and hunger in its minds. Its humanoid structure covered in fur charged at the two figures with pure thought of intent. It had prey in its vision, and neither their piercing squeals of terror nor feeble attempts to flee would suffice.

The watcher judged the distance close enough to use his weapon to bring the creature down. He waited. The pursuit was brief, as the figures were no match in speed for the creature. The watcher felt his weapon heave on him, but his hands were steady.

Their bodies were rend asunder by the creature. The watcher would be no deus ex machina for the figures below. He was there to observe, not to interfere. Involvement would simply dim his senses to the truth of observation. The watcher turned, his mind already elsewhere as other sounds and sights demanded his attention. His feet rushed to a new vantage point, for neither time nor his thirst would wait.

Interception

And now for another change of pace. An idea I just had in the last 24 hours for a sci-fi piece. It's by no means finished, but I thought I'd post what I've done as a little taster. Some may find the scene-setting annoying, and yes, I'm also a little disappointed to stop just at the point I do, but I can't write all the time, as much as that does appeal to me at times. It's also short, so is a nice quick read.



The ground flew past with disturbing alacrity as the speeder flew low and fast. The pilot deftly flicked the machine left and right around obstacles as they approached, burning hard to reach the destination in time. A quick look at a small display told him that he still had two and a half minutes to reach the hold point.

“Keep up,” he ordered to his companions. “We need to amp the tempo a little.”

The order went through to the sealed helmets of the riders with complete clarity. No response was necessary from the soldiers, and none was given. Their loose formation tightened slightly as the pace quickened, and the danger of the speed they were travelling at forced all of them to be completely aware of their surroundings.

The leader’s voice pierced the silence again. “Bravo force reporting. We should arrive in two minutes.”

“Roger, that Wasp,” came the reply. “You should have one minute to prepare before things start to get hot.”

“They still coming from the North?”

“Affirmative. Take up positions as planned. Initiate radio silence until contact.”

The radio went dead. Wasp looked about at best he could, but had to keep his eyes ahead. The speeders they rode were heavily modified hoverbikes, with ion engines that could propel the rider at well in excess of anything stuck to the ground. But its speed was as treacherous as it was useful here. Flying through a long dead city was not straightforward, for the streets, although empty of traffic, were still home to debris and wreckage long abandoned and forgotten.

It had been one of the many casualties of the Nuclear Holocaust. The once bustling city was a decrepit ghost town of destruction, a testament to the carnage of a brief yet catastrophic struggle. Wasp had been too young to comprehend it when he had been born, and just considered himself lucky to have been distant enough from the areas that had been annihilated as the combined arsenals of all the major powers were unleashed at once.

Wasp gritted his teeth as the destination approached. The city might be a wasteland, but the research facility they were trying to defend could help make it inhabitable. The information had been passed down that work was being done there that could allow people to walk around without the protective suits he and his men wore. That with the work they were doing, the city could be made inhabitable again.

“Free Earth Conglomerate,” scoffed Wasp. Why Earth needed freeing, Wasp didn’t know. The United Alliance had emerged from the catastrophe of the Nuclear Holocaust, or ‘The War’, as they preferred to refer to it. The remnants of the old country boundaries had been shattered in the cataclysm, and the UA had taken upon the role of rebuilding the planet.

The FEC had risen as a group of violent dissidents, supposedly fighting against injustices perpetrated by the UA, though their slaughter of innocents did little to provide credence to their cause. Slaughter and theft seemed their predominant activities, and Wasp was glad to help fight the angry remnants of an antagonistic history.

He signalled to slow the speeders as they approached the rally point. They had been forced to scramble for this mission, so they had choose a defensive position based on overhead maps only. Speeders moved towards their allotted positions, and Wasp slowly saw the small blips on his radar screen come to a halt in formation around the old highway.

It was the closest thing to a chokepoint that they could find. The enemy had been detected in three Armoured Personnel Carriers and five light vehicles. They were large and not very manoeuvrable, so the speeders would be able to hassle and delay them until the reinforcements arrived with more firepower.

Wasp hoped that all the soldiers were up to the challenge. Ten speeders didn’t have the firepower to match the enemy vehicles. They didn’t have anything that could even dent the APCs, and he seriously doubted how effective his energy rifle was going to be against the other five vehicles. Two jeeps and three hovercraft would be dangerous, but even they couldn’t hope to match the speed and manoeuvrability of the speeders using hit and run tactics.

A gentle rumbling sound echoed in Wasp’s helmet, signifying the approach of the enemy. The FEC were coming. He fingered the trigger of his mounted energy rifle, rubbing it for good for luck. The radar on the speeder finally picked up the signatures of the FEC vehicles. His hands clenched the handles tightly, if he could see them, they could see him. He flicked his mic back on. “Engage enemy!” he ordered.

---------- To be continued

Disciples & Deceivers - Chapter 1: Infiltration

Here's something I'd contemplated putting up since I started the blog. It comes from something that I started writing many years ago. It's in a slightly different form (and the characters have changed a bit) from my original plan, though that's very much to be expected.

Firstly, I'll warn you that this is longer than previous posts. The chapter itself clocks in at 7,405 words, so it's a little bit of a read.

I'll also say that this part was written right at the start of the process, so some of it is a little rough around the edges. I come from the biased position of having written it and designed the world, so I like my characters and setting, which of course affects my opinion of the piece. But, if you think this chapter is good, then I think I can safely say that you'll like each subsequent chapter more.

One thing this particular chapter could definitely do with is a map. Sorry, it's not supplied - maybe at a later date if I get my hands on a scanner or tackle drawing one with a mouse.

If you're interested in reading more of this, post comments and let me know, or even better, do that & tell other people to do the same! Without comments, I don't know if you're reading, and I don't know what you like or don't like!

A stealthy silhouette stalked almost invisibly through a well-tended and healthy garden. Anyone that actually managed to glimpse the shadow would immediately know that its owner was not supposed to be there. It paused as the rocks in the path crunched loudly in the relative silence of the night, and a guard walked through the garden searching for any intruder to the premises of his employer. Looking around as he walked the garden, the guard saw or heard no sign of anyone or anything in the garden apart from trees that were dimly illuminated in the poor lighting given off by the lone lantern in the courtyard. He gazed about with a watchful eye for a few moments, and then walked out of the garden through a stone archway.

A shot of lightning shattered the air, its brief flash illuminating the face of T’shar, the unwelcome visitor. Her gaunt features winced at the light, the paleness of her bleached skin amplified by the thunderous white flicker. She bore the pure hallmarks of the Deln race, her sallow skin, fingernails of metallic hardness and a face only considered repulsive by human standards. The features on her face appeared to be held by razor thin wires beneath her skin, which itself appeared as though it had been stretched across those lines with great protest.

T’shar glanced cautiously around the darkened garden before moving, her eyes darting back and forth searching for any sign of life or movement before moving herself. She moved in the opposite direction to the guard, heading towards the rear of the house, and kept a shrub or tree between her and the lantern at all times. T’shar hugged the darkness tightly as she knew that another guard would soon come through to the garden, and that her life depended on her remaining completely concealed.

The sudden scrunching noise of a boot signalled the approach of another guard, forcing T’shar to freeze halfway through mid-step as the sound came loudly to her ears. Only her keen hearing allowed her to hear the noise over the heavy rain, which in its ferocity drowned out most other sounds. She slowly put her foot to the ground in silence, despite the cover the storm gave, her leather boot making not even the slightest sound as the guard continued to crunch the dirt and rocks in the garden path underneath his feet. The guard appeared uneasy and stepped warily through the garden, the palm of his hand hovering just away the hilt of his sword, though his expression was that of a person

T’shar found his unease somewhat amusing, given that the building he was guarding was probably one of the most heavily guarded and thus least likely to be burgled in Brynmere. But his unease merely served to remind T’shar of what a dangerous job she was currently undertaking. Nevertheless, the risk was more than equalled by her payment upon completion of the task, because her employer knew of the difficulty in getting inside and that T’shar was one of the few professional people that had the ability and willingness to do so.

Moving warily towards the cobbled backyard, T’shar became an imperceptible shadow, slow but decided in her steps towards her entry point. This would likely be one of the most dangerous moments of the job. The stone paved backyard would be harder to steal across soundlessly than ordinary grass, and there were two watchtowers with guards posted all night, to keep sentry for the doors that provided entry into the mansion proper by watching the courtyard and the rest of the grounds visible from the towers.

These doors were not where she wanted to enter, but she had to pass through the courtyard to the other side of the mansion, which was where she planned to enter building. There was no way to gain access the mansion grounds from that side, the empty space that was home to a market was open and frequently patrolled by city guards, making getting over the wall into the grounds without being noticed virtually impossible. This had forced her current plan of action; she had come in the only viable entry point, leaping from the top of a nearby building on this side of the mansion.

The only doors on ground level to the mansion were located at the front and the rear of the building, and both were heavily guarded, which prevented T’shar gaining access through them. The building had three balconies, two of which were on the first level of the structure, one leading from the room that the noble used to entertain his guests, and T’shar’s point of entry, which was located on a small balcony on the edge of the library. Since the library was on the far side of the house, she had to either cross through the guardhouse at the front or the courtyard at the rear, and she had not needed to waste any time in deciding to avoid the guardhouse. The third balcony came from the master bedroom, but T’shar had counted it too risky to climb that distance for fear of being seen, either by guards due to the distance or by the owner and any of his guests given its close proximity to the balcony on the first floor.

T’shar waited as the next guard moved past and stepped closer towards the short archway signalling the start of the stone paved courtyard. With her body pressed fully against stone wall, she turned her head sideways and leaned slightly to her right, pushing her face past the edge of the archway and looking frantically with her eyes.

Just as the rough plan of the building she had acquired indicated, the nearest watchtower was out of her sight, leaving her with no idea of where that guard was looking. However, she would be out of sight of the guard in that watchtower as she entered the courtyard, the wall that was the walkway to the tower would block his line of sight to her. There were several ornamental statues and a moderately sized pool located in the area, but they would scarcely provide cover for a bird let alone her. Fortunately, torches adorning the walls were infrequent, leaving small patches of shadow that would provide cover that she considered less than adequate, but had to suffice in these circumstances

T’shar pulled the cord holding her blackened hood tighter, tying it forcefully so its fabric pressed against her head, ensuring it covered her blue hair. She had often cursed her father for ‘gifting’ her with such a bright and distinctive hair colour, for it attracted far more attention to her than she ever desired. She had often wished to change its colour, but had found any sort of permanent solution to be prohibitive in both its expense and maintenance. Many of the treatments she had tried had been ineffective, and her last had been quite painful. She made do with her almost omnipresent hood, something she never left behind whenever she was involved in anything to do with her work. Despite the fact the hood attracted some interest in its presence, she had found it to be far less than that given to her blue hair, and its inclusion on any job was unquestioned, as was the rest of her entirely black, form-fitting outfit.

She withdrew back around the archway, and took several steps left into the shadow to conceal herself as another guard walked past. As she soon as she was not visible to his peripheral vision, she stepped back towards the archway. Leaning back around, she stared at the guard in the far watchtower, who seemed to be looking directly back at her. She waited for the guard to turn his attention to something else, but the guard appeared to be staring straight at her. T’shar felt her heart pounding against her ribs, fearing that the guard could actually see her, or at least see something and was about to shout out for another guard to investigate.

More time passed, and T’shar had to retreat back around the archway as another guard walked by, though she nearly had not heard his approach, his footsteps masked as a peal of thunder boomed loudly. The guard seemed unshakeable in his attention, never moving his gaze from the archway. Several more guards passed, and T’shar breathed slowly and deliberately to calm her nerves. She stared right at the guard, willing him to shift his gaze, to glance in another direction. Her whole body was ready to move around the archway and into the courtyard in the split second that he looked away. T’shar heard the steps of the next guard and prepared to again move away from the archway.

Light coming into the archway made it obvious that there was a torch just to the right of the other end. She would have to run past it to get to the first patch of shadow in which she could hide, and she would have to move quickly to avoid being seen by the constant watch of the guard in the far tower. Just as she prepared to step away from the archway the guard shifted his gaze. T’shar pounced around the corner instinctively, knowing that it may be her only chance to get into the courtyard. The next patrolling guard would not be far away, but T’shar had to hope that he was not looking in her direction. She hated to leave it to chance, but she had no guarantee she would get another opportunity to enter the courtyard.

Her feet made only the slightest whisper as she sped along the stones, quickly reaching the end of the hallway, where she glanced to her left where she knew the next guard would be, who was thankfully looking in the other direction. T’shar shifted her brown eyes to look back at the watchtower, and dived to her right so that her body passed underneath the torch on the wall. She twisted her body so that her hands hit the ground just marginally before her feet, so she landed soundlessly into and patch of dim light.

T’shar glanced up at the guard in the watchtower, who again appeared to be looking directly at her. If he had not seen her, it would not be too difficult for her to avoid being seen by him as she moved around the courtyard, but if he had seen her, then she would barely have even the slightest chance to escape. T’shar held her breath for what seemed like an eternity before the guard walked out of sight and the watchman resumed his vigil upon the archway. T’shar exhaled silently in great relief, and began to carefully proceed around the courtyard.

Reaching the other side of the far archway, T’shar could see balcony through which she would enter the mansion. Since the unguarded balcony came off the library, also a place not frequented by guards, it made for a relatively easy entrance into the building. T’shar stood under the balcony and swung one end of the thin rope she had concealed on her briefly over her head before releasing it to hook around one of the pillars that made up the railing of the balcony.

She pulled down on the end of the rope, and glancing around for any guards, quickly climbed up the rope wrapped around the pillar. T’shar paused momentarily as she crouched on the balcony to conceal the rope underneath her clothing. She moved quietly to the door, hunched down so she could not be seen from below.

Holding at the door, she glanced at the lock briefly before moving her fingers to the hole. One thing she always felt gave her an advantage over any of her competition was that of her Deln heritage, as she considered her fingernails almost her most prized asset. Her metal-hard fingernails were filed and cut as lockpicks, and it took only a few brief moments of wriggling and twisting her fingers before the lock gave a soft, sharp click and T’shar turned the handle. She gave a brief smile in the darkness, content that the door, like most others, was naught but easy pickings for her guile and skill.

A quick glance ensuring that no one was in the immediate area was all the assurance T’shar needed before she opened the door and darted inside. Shutting the door, T’shar stood still as she pulled a small cloth from a tightly sealed wooden container. There was a small puddle forming on the floor in the library, a telltale sign that someone had entered the room from the balcony in the rain.

T’shar was reasonably dry, her leather outfit being made out of a specialised type of leather that was both supple yet hard, and while it had cost her quite a sum of money to purchase, it was invaluable in that absorbed very little water, forcing the rain to run off the fabric. It was this priceless quality that kept the size of the puddle she was now standing in small, and T’shar quickly wiped it up with the cloth she held in her hands. She gave her clothes a brief wipe before placing the cloth back inside its container.

Having cleaned the point of her intrusion, T’shar took stock of the room she was standing in. This part of the library was quite open, and if someone were to come in through the door on the opposite side of the room, she would be instantly spotted. Not wishing to tempt fate, T’shar ran forwards and to the right where there were several rows of bookcases stacked with books.

T’shar skimmed over an occasional volume as she moved through the shelves, looking for any trading records. The three bookshelves lined parallel to the inside and outside doors contained nothing useful, so T’shar crossed the room where two bookshelves were placed at right angles to the doors, leaving a small gap between the wall on inside wall where the library continued. Looking down at the crudely drawn map she had received from her contact, T’shar guessed that the stairs to the upper library were behind them.

As T’shar hurried past the doorway, she heard the muffled sounds of footsteps, and she instinctively knew that their owner was headed for the library. T’shar rushed behind the two bookcases, and silently swore as she saw the large flight of wooden stairs leading upwards. There was no place to hide anywhere in the small library, so having no alternatives, T’shar had to run up the stairs, hoping that the door and the other person’s footsteps would cover her own as the made her way up the wooden steps.

T’shar’s soft leather boots slightly deadened the noise as she quickly climbed the stairs, mounting two steps with each pace, trying to balance both the need for stealth and speed. She heard the door open as she was nearly to the top of the stairs, but did not turn to look behind, knowing that the staircase was virtually concealed from the rest of the library by the two bookcases placed perpendicular to the outside wall.

Making a decided effort for silence, T’shar leapt upwards to try and clear the staircase completely. She stretched out her right foot in front of her, careful not to put it too far forward for she knew she could over balance when she landed and fall backwards. The ball of her foot landed awkwardly past the top of the stairs, and she felt her balance disappear as her ankle twisted painfully. Her body began to fall sideways and backward at the same time and T’shar clamped her lips shut as she saw a small vase at the top of the stairs that was directly in her path. Fear suddenly gripped her as she realised her endeavour to remain totally silent could result in exactly the opposite effect, as even a glancing blow to the vase would knock it over and attract the attention of the guard below.

Unable to throw her body backward without falling noisily on the wooden stairs, T’shar shoved her left arm across and down her body as she rolled forwards. As the palm of her left hand hit the ground, T’shar’s arm jarred violently, and she felt a burning pain in her elbow. Still keeping her mouth tightly clamped, T’shar used the jolt to roll her body further forwards, landing almost soundlessly on the stone floor as she snapped her head up to avoid hitting it against the floor, and coming to rest barely a breath away from the vase at the top of the stairs.

T’shar forced herself upwards, getting onto her feet in a smooth motion and quickly moving away from the top of the stairs. She spotted a desk on the far side of the library, and made her way towards it, cautiously looking back every few steps to see if whoever had entered the library had heard her, but then realising that she would hear them coming up the stairs. She ducked underneath the desk just as she heard the first footstep on the wooden boards.

T’shar could barely swallow as she waited for the person to come up the stairs. Wondering whether the person had heard her, she struggled to force herself to remain calm, shutting her eyes and concentrating on her breathing momentarily before opening her eyes again and removing a throwing knife from a sheath on her arm. T’shar disliked using the knives, but in her current situation she had little choice, though she had readied it only as a precaution. Considering herself a professional thief, she preferred not to be seen at all, though she was on occasion forced to knock someone unconscious with her blackjack, a small leather bag filled with sand and lead, by using it to administer a blow to the head or back of the neck. The mark of a true professional, she thought, is a thief who gets in and out of a building without anyone even realising they were there until whatever it was they’ve stolen is noticed missing.

With the footsteps on wood being the only sound to be heard, her heart skipped a beat as she saw the head of a guard bob upwards from the staircase. She moved slightly in discomfort, her ankle and elbow still smarting from their respective injuries, but she dared not shift more than the smallest distance to avoid making any sort of noise. The guard took a few more steps up the stairs and stopped on the staircase, turning around and pausing a moment to look around the room, before slowly walking back down the stairs again.

Only when the guard shut the door below to the library noisily did T’shar get out from underneath her hiding spot to continue her search of the library. She guessed that the guard had spent several minutes searching in the main library before leaving, which she found a little unnerving, for it seemed a rather long time to spend in such a small area. He had however spent little time looking upstairs where she had been hiding, so she thought it quite safe to assume whatever curiosity he had was satiated. The pain of twisting her ankle had faded, though her elbow was still causing her a little discomfort. She shook her arm and then flexed it, content that no permanent damage had been done.

Glancing at the bookshelf near the desk she had been hiding under, she noticed that the shelf was full of stacks of paper, some bound together with string and some sitting loosely. She grabbed a handful from the left of the shelf and flicked through them. The records were old and detailed purchase of furniture and other various items. Putting them back in their place, she moved along a leafed through some more. Records of donations to and from various people or churches or such were listed in the pile she currently had.

T’shar moved along the bookcase finding various financial or other records, detailing agreements, purchases, sales or donations, but nothing that was even slightly illegal. She swore in frustration, as she seemingly was not going to find anything that could possibly be used to link him to the illegal operation that she knew he was involved in. T’shar would get paid good money for completing the job, but it seemed that she was going to have to earn it the hard way. She had anticipated that this would be the case, but she had hoped that for once the noble she had to steal from was as incompetent as the people he employed or the people that she was forced to work with.

A large smile crept onto T’shar face as she noticed several entries marked only as ‘donation’ in the set of notes she was looking at. She grabbed the next set and noticed the same amounts unmarked as well. While such discrepancies were not proof of anything illegal, now T’shar was certain she would find the evidence she needed somewhere else. Flicking through the last pages of the set she had, she noted more ‘donations’, with significant amounts of gold being paid every Midweek.

“Ah, Count Relkan,” she said, “it looks like you’ve made the acquaintance of some expensive friends.” Count Relkan was not known for generosity to anyone, let alone to somewhere like a church that would be considered a ‘donation’. She reached the last set of papers on the shelf, and leafed through to find the ‘donations’ made Midweek had increased in the past three weeks. T’shar frowned in thought. Guards accepting bribes were not usually in a position to request that sort of increase for their continued complacency, at least not without expecting to end up dead or discovered to be accepting bribes.

The only other possibility that presented itself as a viable alternative was that of blackmail, though that was risky, and T’shar could not work out who could be blackmailing Relkan and for what reason. T’shar shook her head and put the papers back; whoever was blackmailing the noble and for what reason was none of her business, all she had to do was retrieve evidence that he was doing something illegal.

Carefully the volumes she had been inspecting were placed back on their rightful locations, her near infallible memory and meticulous attention to detail ensuring that they were as if she had never removed them. Heading back down to the main level of the library as silent as her shadow, she became somewhat anxious and annoyed as she heard more footsteps approaching the library. The casual conversation that accompanied them let her know that it was not a guard, but merely a couple of ordinary people, likely servants or guests. However, that was not to say they presented any less of a potential hazard to her job, they could just as easily shout an alarm to quickly send the entire guard racing.

T’shar quickly darted across the doorway to the safety of the shadowy corner in the far side of the room. Here she would be difficult to spot, and at least have the advantage of being initially hidden by the door, as well having the potential to avoid detection entirely should the people decide to enter the library. The rough and casual language of the conversation indicated that the pair were indeed only servants, which meant the chances of their entering the library were slim at best. Her tension was allayed as the voices faded, and T’shar promptly crept towards the door leading to the main indoors of the building.

Slowly and carefully putting pressure on the handle to turn it in silence, she opened the door and pulled it slightly ajar, giving her a good look down the hallway to the right of the library. Seeing the hall empty, as she had suspected and hoped it would be, she flashed out into the walkway and closed the door behind her, delicately placing her hand so that no noise issued when it shut.

The door at the right of the hall was shut, and from T’shar’s map, it led to the dining area. The two servants on her left were carrying empty trays; presumably they had just delivered some food to whoever was in the dining room. T’shar nodded and smiled appreciatively, although it was somewhat late, the owner of the house and whatever company he had were still eating, which she surmised would give her plenty of time to examine his belongings before he returned. It was a piece of good fortune that she had not expected, but it was one that she welcomed gladly.

Heading in the same direction as the servants, who had now descended some stairs, T’shar moved with pace but making sure that she maintained absolute silence, as now that she was inside, the rage of the storm seemed marginally faded, but more notable was the fact that it did very little to mask any other noise. However, she knew her noiseless movement would be little good should anyone enter the hallway, as the regular placed oil lanterns placed on the walls illuminated the hall quite brightly, leaving her with no place to hide from their sight.

As she neared the stairs the two servants had walked down, she heard the familiar sound of a guard walking, the volume and direction of the slight metallic clink signalling their presence from the same stairway. T’shar quickly put her head around the corner of the hallway she had reached, only to see another guard walking towards her from that direction. T’shar drew in a sharp breath as she bit her upper lip, then turned around and ran back towards the far end of the hall.

The next passage leading off the hallway was past the library, but T’shar doubted that she could open and close the door as quickly as she would need to in order to stay out of sight and make certain that it was soundless. She passed the door, and rounded the corner without even pausing to check to see if it was unoccupied, but merely sidestepped around, knowing that if she did not she would be spotted in a moment anyway.

The passageway led to the main staircase between the first and second floor, a grandiose and extravagant circular stairway that was carpeted in a fine, sandy coloured cloth that contrasted with the deep, dark brown of the oak that it was constructed from. This area, just like the entire of the inside of the mansion was also bathed in light from the frequent lanterns that T’shar wished she could put out to plunge the building into the darkness that aided her skills so well. She knew such an action would only attract more attention, however, so she put that thought out of her mind, silently chiding herself for losing concentration, albeit momentarily.

T’shar glanced down the hallway she had ran up, and watched as the guard walked up the stairway. He took a brief glance to the left as he walked along the hallway, and T’shar pressed her eyes closed as she furrowed her forehead, trying to remember her map. After a moment, T’shar’s memory clicked and she snapped her eyes open, recalling the set of stairs that led to the top level. The guard continued walking, and turned left down the hallway T’shar had meant to head down before she had heard his approach.

Seeing him turn, T’shar swiftly skulked towards the staircase in the centre of the building, and putting her head fleetingly around the corner, bit her upper lip again as she saw the other guard walking towards her. Doing an about-face, T’shar moved back down the first hallway again, passing by the library once more. She glanced down the hallway and moved towards the stairs leading to the third floor when she heard more footsteps from the downward stairs. T’shar’s mind reeled silently with curses, as anyone coming up the stairs would see or hear her almost immediately if she tried to climb the other staircase leading upwards to the topmost floor.

Being unable to retreat back the way she came due to the approaching guard, she had no choice but to follow the guard who had previously come up the stairs down the hallway to her right. The guard was some distance along the hall now, so she could safely shadow him, but dreaded the fact that should she be spotted, she would currently have to get past at least one person in the reasonably narrow hallway to escape. Even though T’shar disliked open combat, she was still quite skilled, but fighting a well-trained guard with any adversary approaching from behind her and more enemies imminent was a situation in which she thought she would have only a moderate chance of success if she were fortunate.

Following a safe distance behind the guard, T’shar was willing the man to move faster, knowing that it would not be long before either of the other guards on the floor reached the junction of the two hallways. The guard had just passed another junction in the hallway they were in, and T’shar, picturing the map in her mind, knew that it also led to the central spiral staircase. Once the guard had put some distance between himself and the passage, T’shar ducked into the open room, and watched as a guard walked towards the set of staircases.

Since the other guard had not come into view, T’shar realised that he must have walked up the stairs to the third floor. Scowling in irritation, T’shar knew she now had to wait for that guard to come down from the upper level before she could climb the stairs, as there were only two straight hallways on that level, giving her no way of getting up there without being noticed by a guard patrolling it.

A door opened and closed, and T’shar looked around the corner to see that the guard she had been following had gone outside, using the door near the end of the hallway to get onto the top of the walls outside. Taking full advantage of the rare opportunity of having no guards in close proximity, she hopped out in the hallway and proceeded in that direction, as there was another set of stairs leading to the third level at the end of the hall.

The stairs were preceded by a hallway leading to the right, nearly opposite the door that led to the top of the walls outside. Needing a hiding place, and knowing that walking through the outside door was not even a remotely intelligent or feasible course of action, T’shar turned down the hallway to look for a room to disappear into. She guessed that the guard currently on the upper level would come down the stairs soon, so taking what time she had, put her ear against the door she now stood next to, listening intently for any sound to indicate the presence of someone inside the room. Hearing nothing but her own soft breathing and loudly beating heart, T’shar opened the door and slipped through the small opening.

The room she had entered was a bathroom, and while it left nowhere to hide at all, the guard would not come in here, so the only possibility for discovery was that by a guest, since the owner of the house had his own bathroom and toilet leading off the master bedroom. T’shar relaxed slightly for a second, taking the short period of respite to concentrate on her breathing, taking slow and deep breaths to take control of her tense nerves. While some anxious tension and fear helped keep her focussed and alert, too much served only to incite desperate and frantic decisions, and often resulted in an incorrect decision, and unfortunately in her line of work, such decisions resulted in death more frequently than not.

Feeling her quickened heartbeat slow a fraction, T’shar pressed her head against the door again; this time listening for the audible clues that would tell her the guard had come down from the top level. Though the guard would likely not walk directly in front of the door, it was not far from the other hallway, so T’shar would be able to hear when he had proceeded beyond her hiding place.

After a short wait, T’shar heard the muffled scuffing of feet, and then heard the noise fade again, and took that as her cue to exit the bathroom. Closing the door silently, T’shar walked towards the stairs with decided purpose, relieved to get her opportunity to continue upstairs. She almost half expected for the door leading outside to open and force her to either run down the hallway or back into the bathroom, given the torrid time she had been having with avoiding guards so far during the night, but she reached and climbed the stairs without further incident.

The hallway in the top level was straight, with only one passageway off to the left, leading to the master bedroom. There was nothing in there that was of real interest to T’shar, as her destination was the study, whose entry lay through the door on the left on the hallway she was currently in.

Moving quickly to reach the room before any more guards came upstairs; she stopped at the door and tried the handle to find it locked. She had expected this, so crouched down and manipulated her fingers precisely to work the lock. She winced slightly as the lock refused to give and she twisted the middle finger on her right hand, the manicured hook of her fingernail getting caught in the mechanism, ripping the skin attaching it to her finger slightly and causing a small smear of blood to form at the surface.

Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest as a small shred of panic rose in her mind, and she struggled to keep her fingers steady as she hastily worked the lock, desperate to open the door and get inside the study before another guard could come along and discover her. A sharp click let her know that she was making progress, but she noticed that a small droplet of blood was forming around her joint, and would soon drip. Her professional desire to leave little or no trace of her presence overwhelmed the urgency of getting into the study, and she tilted her head to suck the crimson liquid to prevent it from leaving even the most miniscule drop on the floor. Content she was not going to leave any mark, she twitched her right hand, and hearing another click, a softer, grinding sound this time, she held her fingers in place, and used her chin to turn the handle and push the door barely ajar.

With the door open, T’shar pulled her fingers away, her lockpick fingernails sliding smoothly out of the lock mechanism, which responded with more metallic clicking. She looked at her sore finger, and a brief examination left her confident no real harm had been done, and the congealed blood told her that she would not have to worry about further drops potentially leaving any telltale stain to signify her passing. Her eyes darted left and right, her brown orbs making a quick and careful search before she eased into the room and shut the door behind her.

The study was moderate in size, and kept in what seemed like meticulous order and tidiness. A large wall cabinet dominated the wall to T’shar’s right, several leather-bound volumes sitting upon it, and presumably more were inside the hinged doors. The far wall had a small desk in front of it, a pair of candles sitting on either of the back corners, and an ornately carved wooden chair underneath. The large bronze sculpted head of a dragon nested just above the marble mantle of the amply sized fireplace that occupied the left hand wall. It seemed as though it had not been used for some time or even at all, as the inside was clean and uncharred by the black stain that was characteristic of such a fireplace.

The centrepiece of the room was positioned on another ornamentally carved piece of wood, this time a stand made to look like several curving wooden pillars, with a protective shield of glass shielding the work inside. A superbly crafted golden statuette was placed within the glass, the features of a fine and elegant horse exquisite in their delicately fashioned detail. The artisan responsible had gone to extravagant lengths to ensure the creation was a virtually flawless masterpiece, each hair on the beast’s mane intricately and precisely shaped, and even the body had the same texture as that of a real horse. T’shar had seen many fine works of art in various shops, estates and other buildings during her career, but even she was forced to pause to marvel in the magnificence of the statue. She resisted the overwhelming temptation to place the piece into her bag, as she knew it was not the reason for her intrusion. Besides, she told herself, she had nowhere suitable to place the masterwork.

T’shar hurried over to the desk on the far side of the room, examining the pieces of parchment placed in a neat pile. The letters told T’shar little, short of that Relkan was attending a dinner at the palace in the not too distant future, and that he was writing to express his interest in purchasing several works of art from various people. The drawers of the desk contained nothing but quills, inkwells and blank parchment, much to T’shar’s professional disgust, a little irked that he could not have made her job easy like most of those she had to steal from, but appreciating the challenge of a not completely straightforward task.

Turning her attention to the cabinet, T’shar leafed through the first book, which seemed to contain mostly dealing regarding the noble’s artworks, either buying or selling. The second she picked up held much the same, and the next was just as mundane, a listing of the holdings of various nobles around the region, seemingly compiled by him for some unknown purpose. While this might have hinted he was doing something illegal, it proved nothing except he was interested in knowing the particulars of other people’s land or holdings.

Opening the doors to the compartment above where those books were seated revealed more inside, but they seemed to be informative works about works of art, either describing how to determine the quality of the work or were inventories of various high quality pieces, their background and approximate worth. Then came the piles of letters to and from various nobles, including an elaborate invite to Tyull-Ishar from the Emperor himself.

“Where are you hiding your private documents, you conniving piece of filth?” She scowled in frustration, annoyed at the Relkan’s obsession with art pieces and her own inability to find evidence of his wrongdoing. The payments of gold per week were definitely not donations; T’shar knew such consistent and considerable amounts were the hallmark of dealing in some sort of illegal activity. The proof she needed was somewhere in the room, as it had not been in the upper library, nor had T’shar expected it to be, for no person, no matter how stupid, would not place such confidential and potentially dangerous papers in such an accessible place.

Her eyes flashed around the room, searching for something she had missed, the place where the documents she was looking for were hidden. Sighing, she sat down on the floor with her legs out in front of her, now significantly chagrined with herself for having difficulty in performing her job, something that happened very infrequently. She had heard the guard walk past not long before, and anyone entering the room would first have to unlock it with the key, which would give her more than enough time to get up and ready herself to surprise them if the need arose.

Now that she had some time to spare without fear of being discovered, T’shar pulled out her map and examined the plan of the building carefully. The ground floor contained nothing of interest to T’shar, storerooms, art rooms, the quarters of the guard and servants along with the kitchen were not places that the noble would store incriminating evidence. The second floor was primarily taken up by the dining and entertaining area, with the guest bedrooms, toilets and bathrooms as well as the library the only other rooms on that floor. That left the top floor, which contained only the study and the master bedroom. Seeing no other option, T’shar tucked the map away and stood up to go to there to seek her objective.

As she did so, her previous observation about the fireplace struck her – it was unused. This seemed more than slightly odd, the room was so methodically arranged that T’shar suspected even the slightest disruption of the objects in it would be noticed, and everything was kept perfectly clean and dustless. Yet T’shar knew that the inside of a fireplace was impossible to keep clean, the black charcoal from burnt wood was virtually permanent once established.

She leaned down to the fireplace and pushed on the wall that was the back of the fireplace, suspecting it to be a secret entrance to another room, but the wall held fast. She stood up, face to face with the sculpted bronze dragon head, and examined it carefully, looking and probing for a telltale loose tooth or some other extremity that she could pull or push to cause the door to swing open. Searching the entire head and finding nothing, T’shar grabbed either side of the head and tried to push it to left, but as it resisted that movement, she instead attempted to tilt it, an effort which caused a strained rasping sound of stone against stone as the back wall of the fireplace turned.

The turning stone stopped when it was perpendicular its original position, allowing T’shar to stoop down and hobble through the small gap to stand in front of a downward spiralling stone staircase. A small metal pull chain was hanging on the wall to the left, which moved slowly up the wall as the secret door automatically turned itself to conceal the entrance once more a few moments after she had passed through it. T’shar smiled to herself in the near pitch-black darkness of the stairwell as she walked slowly and carefully down the steps.

As she proceeded downwards, she guessed that the stairs were taking her below ground level, to an otherwise inaccessible basement in the building. There were torches placed on the outside wall as she went down, though far more intermittent than the lanterns placed inside the main parts of the building, providing adequate lighting, but enough of the shadow that T’shar dearly appreciated, not that it would serve any purpose whatsoever in the cramped stairwell.

She navigated them carefully, for the stairs were steep, and the ceiling was low, so low that she could reach the ceiling with her fingers at short of a full stretch. She hunched awkwardly below the cobwebs that dotted the stairway, her professional desire to mask her passing overwhelming her personal desire to swipe them away.

At the bottom of the stairwell the walls opened up and the stone floor stretched out into an expansive room. The air was cold and clammy, with the sparsely placed torches faintly illuminating the shadows the danced about the room. The wet, musty smell that dominated the room had the trappings of a dungeon, but from what T’shar could see of various instruments placed about the room, it was actually a torture chamber.

Not wanting to blunder forward half-blind, a brief pause allowed T’shar’s eyes to fully adjust to the dim lighting. Taking a few paces forward, T’shar could see a table and desk that would obviously be the location of the documents she was looking for, but out of the corner of her left eye, she spotted a small movement and turned to see what it was. She dry-retched as she realised that it was in fact a person, lying bloodied and chained to the floor.

Lowelm's Shadow (Part 1)

I've redone Lowelm's Shadow. I'd make an apology, but it wouldn't be sincere, as a crucial part of writing is rewriting. Without a willingness to rewrite and improve things, adjust characters, add in extra detail, flesh out depth and do lots of other great things that make stories interesting, then it's not possible to write really well. Though it makes writing a whole lot more work.

Anyway, here's the rewritten version. So even if you read part 1 before, please "re-read" this part 1 before reading part 2, otherwise part 2 won't make sense. This version adds more depth to the characters and the setting, the lack of which in the first version made it... not as good or interesting as it should have been. I'm hoping to write some more about these characters in the future, though I guess I could actually end up writing more about their past...



Naptali whirled as a threatening noise cracked forth from the natural thrum of the forest. Her burnished hair rippled against its ties with unease as a strange energy coursed in the air. Birds became silent and flittered away, while the soft thumping of feet spoke the retreat of deer and rabbits. Her elven ears pricked tightly, Naptali drew her sword with soft hands, unsheathing it without a single whisper against its scabbard. A hint of discomfort twitched through Naptali’s body, telling her the source of the disturbance: magic.

Her footsteps barely left a touch on the wild grass, practiced movement meaning she was silent and untraceable. The trees rustled with grave warning, letting their friend know of an impending danger, all the while trying to conceal her presence. Whatever was stalking her, Naptali could tell it was close. It was moving cautiously, yet with not enough stealth, and she ducked quickly into a seemingly impenetrable growth of spiked bushes with untold ease.

The unknown foe approached as Naptali crouched at the ready, and suddenly a figure stepped before her invisible hiding place. In an instant Naptali was on her feet and had her sword point at her opponent’s throat.

The man stopped deadly still as he felt the sharp tip against the side of his neck. His dark eyes moved sideways to look at her nervously while rooted in place. Brushing the top of his hood back slowly with his left hand, he gave a puzzled look. “How do you do that?” He asked incredulously. “And is that any way to greet an old friend, Naptali?”

“Drauglin!” She said with a great smile. He sheathed her sword and kissed him lightly on the cheek before embracing him. “It’s been too long, friend.”

“Indeed it has, my dear elf,” his look of worry giving way to a warm smirk. “Though, of course, I have to envy that you still look like someone I wish I could court.”

“Don’t be foolish, Drauglin,” she admonished him. “If you wanted to court me, not even your magic would give you the power to speak even one intelligent word!”

Both of them had been young when she had first met the powerful magician, and no matter how many years passed, neither of them could forget his painfully inept attempts to woo a young girl on that first occasion. It had been a running joke between the two of them ever since. Drauglin grimaced in mock anguish at Naptali’s barb and sighed. “Ah, a precious flower you would be to me, dare I to pluck you and offer my kind heart.”

“That’s more like it,” said Naptali with a grin. “But how come I’m lucky enough to see you here?”

Drauglin’s faced dropped. “I wouldn’t exactly consider it luck. That would probably be the last word I would use.”

Naptali knew the graveness of his tone spoke of a deep-seated worry. It was a voice that was reserved for matters of importance, matters that could affect the futures of many. She gave a concerned look East to the town of Lowelm, a community that had long been under her protection, and her home. “Come,” she said to Drauglin. “Whatever it is that you have to tell me, it would be best said in my home.”

“But,” began Drauglin.

“No,” she insisted. “It is late in the day already. And whatever it is can wait until we return there.” He nodded in reluctant acquiescence. “Besides,” Naptali added with a knowing look, “I’m guessing we’re going to need supplies for wherever it is we’re going.”

The two reached the small town just as night began to fall. “Is there some way we can get in without attention?” Asked Drauglin.

“What’s the matter, Drauglin?” Naptali asked. “Still playing the reluctant saviour of everyone’s existence?”

“I like to keep quiet wherever I can,” he said. “Besides, isn't your history with Lowelm somewhat similar? Only due to the word of a friend?”

Naptali frowned in defeat, for she her decision to act as an informal guardian to the town was not something she wanted to make initially. “Circumstances,” she offered weakly.

“Aren’t we all ruled by them?” Drauglin asked. “I didn’t ask for my fate and fame either.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, changing the subject. “We’re so remote that by time tales of your exploits reach us, you’re at least twice as tall, have eyes of flame, and carry thunderbolts in your hands. No one would believe you were ‘Drauglin, hero of the world of Leiaron.’ Not even if I told them.”

Naptali’s words proved correct as they walked into the small town without incident. Regardless, she took him directly to her home to avoid any possible questions from the townsfolk. She moved quickly about the house and lit several lamps to combat the fading light. Offering him a seat, she sat down and looked at him with concern. “I’m worried that I might have an idea why you are here,” she said.

Drauglin appraised her cautiously. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” she replied. “Not for certain. I just know that I felt something about a week ago. It was big.”

“Magical?” He exhaled pointedly as Naptali nodded. “Your ability to sense magic has always been strange to me.”

Her face cracked in frustration. “Drauglin, my ancestors were mages for as long as I know.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you will have the gift.”

Her voice developed a hint of dejection. “Thanks, Drauglin, that really appeases me at being so pathetic that not only am I not a magician, but I also get sick from magic.”

“It doesn’t make you a failure, Naptali.”

“I don’t want to discuss this,” she said curtly. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“It was a release of magical energy,” Drauglin explained. “Or rather, being violently dissipated. Near the old ruins to the south.”

“I’d often thought to ask you about those,” said Naptali. “Though I suppose you probably would have dodged the question.”

Drauglin smiled. “Possibly, but generally I’m evasive for your own good. But in this case, until recently I wouldn’t have been able answer you. It was only because of that something that I found out what was there. Many things are forgotten and become secrets for a reason.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What kind of reason?”

“Because they’re dangerous for people to know.” Drauglin’s voice had reassumed that flat, serious tone. “But sometimes they must be remembered. So that something can be done about them.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Naptali growled. “What’s this secret?”

“To be honest?” Drauglin paused. He ran a hand slowly back through his cropped, greying hair and sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that something is there. And it’s nothing good.”

“You’ve got to give me more than that, Drauglin!” She exclaimed.

“I wish I could,” he said. “But I don’t know what it is. I just know that there’s a lot of magical energy being disturbed. And there’s some kind of underground complex.”

“How do you know all this?” Naptali asked, her face hard.

“I felt that disturbance too. From a lot further away.” His eyes were flooded with concern. “I found the entrance yesterday. I walked only a short distance inside before I saw a corpse. The injuries must’ve come from magic.”

“I understand,” she said flatly. “We’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll ready my weapons and get supplies.”

“That’s it?” Drauglin asked.

“What else is there to say?” she replied. “I’ll make sure the town is prepared in case we don’t return.”

“You have a very bleak outlook at times, did you know that, Naptali?”

It was Naptali’s turn to answer with a dark tone. “Not all of us have magic to alter our destiny.”

She was glad Drauglin knew her well enough to answer only with silence.

They woke early the next day. They ate a full breakfast in a wisp of sunlight, and set off before it was fully risen. Both carried a small pack of food supplies, and Naptali carried her sword and bow. She had offered Drauglin a lightweight weapon, but he produced an ornate dagger and refused.

“No offence, Naptali, but if I have to use this, I doubt whatever you can offer will protect me more.” Her simple shrug was the only natural reply.

The hours of walking passed with light conversation, with both recounting events since they had last met. Drauglin shadowed Naptali, for her natural affinity with the forest produced an easy path for him to follow. Across the light scrub she found flat ground, through the trees she made a straight path, and in dense brush she trod an invisible track through seemingly impenetrable vegetation.

“Naptali, I think you have your own kind of magic in weaving through this forest,” Drauglin commented. She stared back with a blank expression, an icy disposition lurking beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” he apologised.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, though her voice made it clear she did.

A few moments later, Naptali came to an abrupt halt. Drauglin, with his head still partially down to avoid her gaze, bumped into her back. She gave a short curse as she grabbed onto a sapling. Her body teetered forward over the steep bank of a river, the small tree stretching painfully under her weight. Drauglin recovered quickly from his surprise and grabbed her free arm, tugging her back from the edge.

“Thank you,” she said. “Though it helps if you look where you’re going.”

He gave her a sheepish expression, and then looked at the river. “I don’t remember this.”

Naptali looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure how you missed it,” she said. “It’s virtually impossible to cover this territory without crossing it.” She looked left and right in vague annoyance. “But I thought it narrowed enough that we could leap it somewhere around here.”

“Why don’t we just wade through?” Drauglin asked.

Naptali scanned the river for a moment then pointed a finger at the water. Drauglin followed her motion to a patch of shade. Just as he was about to speak, a bird dived down and skimmed the surface of the smooth river. In an instant, the dark patch darted forth and a mouth filled with teeth emerged from the surface. A flash of those stained daggers enveloped the hapless bird and disappeared like a nightmare beneath the impenetrable murk.

“Good answer,” said Drauglin.

“Come on.” Naptali motioned for him to follow her.

“No,” he said. “My turn to find the path.” He signalled for her to come to him. “Take my hand.”

“What?” She asked. “Why?” She grimaced as her hand clasped his. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not,” he answered.

Naptali felt her stomach churn as Drauglin’s eyes gave a brief look of concentration. Time felt as though it were slowed down and the air crackled with a silent sound that Naptali knew was magic. She almost felt compelled to shut her eyes, but she kept them open and saw the colours of the scenery warp into a green mud. As the blur cleared, Naptali saw they were on the opposite side of the bank.

“Next time I won’t ask,” she said. “Though it still doesn’t solve the problem that I’m now not sure exactly where we are.”

“That’s not a problem either,” said Drauglin. “I know where we need to go.” He concentrated for a moment, and Naptali felt the distinct unease of magic pulse through her. “It’s that way.” Drauglin pointed a finger slightly to their left. “And it’s not very far away.” Naptali shook off the unnatural feeling of Drauglin’s spell and started moving in the direction that he had pointed.

The sun had already passed its peak and they had still not eaten since morning, so a trace of hunger lingered in Naptali’s stomach. She had a vague desire to stop and eat, but black clouds loomed with malice, so grabbed an apple from her pack and ate as they moved. She felt an uncomfortable itch on her skin for an instant, and turned back to see Drauglin with a peeled orange in his hand. “Can’t you use your hands like normal people?” She asked.

Naptali had almost finished her apple when they came to the clearing. The forest suddenly gave way to erratic grassland dotted with the remnants of buildings. The ruins were an oddity amongst the substantial foliage, for they marked an otherwise interrupted wilderness. There was something amiss in its presence, its silence dissonant against the typical murmur of the forest.

Naptali felt a chill rush through her body involuntarily, and looked at Drauglin accusingly.

“That wasn’t me,” he said worriedly. “I’m not sure where it came from.” His eyes glazed in concentration for an instant. “There’s nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” Naptali asked.

“I can’t feel or see anything,” Drauglin replied. “There’s nothing around here that…” He suddenly looked at Naptali in shock as they both felt a massive surge of energy.

“What was that?” she exclaimed.

“We need to get to that complex. It’s coming from inside.” Drauglin’s tone was severe.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Naptali.

“I’ll give you the answer when I know it,” he replied. “Follow me.”

They moved with measured urgency, eager to find the source of the disturbance, but also wary of its possible danger. Drauglin led with the confidence of conviction, his normally troubled step finding easy purchase on the undulating terrain. His steps travelled in a near straight line, his faultless memory taking them directly to a near invisible arrangement of stones near the edge of the clearing. “Here,” he said.

Naptali looked around, confused. “I don’t see anything.”

“Not yet,” Drauglin replied. A soft whisper parted his lips as his hand made a small circular motion at the stones embedded in the ground. Three pale flashes of light sprung forth from his hand and danced around the rocks. Their spirals lasted momentarily, then burnt out into nothingness.

Naptali stood bewildered for an instant, before her expression turned to one of amazement as the ground began to shimmer and fade before her eyes. The grass disappeared to show a small staircase of stone leading into darkness underground.

“A concealed entrance?” She asked incredulously.

“The mark of a secret that’s supposed to be forgotten,” Drauglin said.

Naptali gave him an admonishing look. “Not everything can be fixed by hiding it.”

“Then we can determine which one of the two this is.” He motioned for her to go down. “Quickly, let’s move.”

Naptali moved down the steps fast, but her pace slowed as the darkness grew. Her eyes flickered to see the floor, but her vision failed, and she stopped in a momentary panic. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the absence of light as wave of fear rushed over her, gripping her sword hilt so hard that her fingers ached.

In an instant, the magician appeared by her side. “Damn you, Drauglin,” she hissed angrily. “You know I can’t stand the dark.”

“Sorry,” he apologised. “I can help.” He shook his hand forcefully, and an artificial light suddenly sprung up around them. Naptali shuddered at the slight pain that it also sparked in her head, but was relieved at the light.

“Good.” She resumed walking, her mood as dark as the receding shadow.

There were only a few more steps before they reached the bottom of the staircase, and Naptali froze as she saw the entrance hall. She saw the corpse Drauglin had referred to and shivered in revulsion. The body appeared as though it had been melted in place. The head was a lump of boiled flesh, and the rest of the body looked red with heat, yet unmarked by any effect of burns.

“What in the hells can do that?” Naptali asked.

“I don’t know,” said Drauglin. They approached the corpse warily, as though it still held some form of unknown danger. “It just doesn’t look like anything natural.”

Naptali inspected the corpse. There were no signs of a struggle, no burn marks, nor anything to indicate what could have possibly caused it. “Drauglin, why do you need me here?” Naptali asked. “What can I possibly do against whatever caused that?”

“Plenty,” said Drauglin. “Sometimes, the worst way to fight magic is with more magic.”

“Right.” Naptali made her displeasure apparent. “Of course, that's not a problem for me, is it?” She paused. “And why aren’t other people here?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Naptali. You know how isolated Lowelm is. And even if someone else had felt it, we probably wouldn’t want them here.”

“Of course,” she said. “Because I want to be without help when we’re up against something that can do that!” She pointed at the corpse.

“Mages have an overly active survival instinct, Naptali. Investigating magical anomalies isn’t safe. The only people that might be heading in our direction, we don’t want to meet. And I’d say they don’t want to meet us.”

“Then let’s find out what’s going on before they arrive,” said Naptali.

---------- Read the previous post for part 2

Lowelm's Shadow (Part 2)

If you're reading this without having read the redone version of part 1, go forward and read that first. The story has been reworked, so part 1 is different from before.



They moved through the stone passages carefully, the cold silence interrupted only by their sound of their feet against the floor. Naptali held close to Drauglin, making sure she was not separated from the magical light that surrounded him. They moved through a series of interconnected chambers, each of them square and empty. The featureless void was disturbing, for the underground secret seemed home to nothing but stale air.

They made their way along a downward sloping tunnel, which eventually opened up to an octagonal room with a passage leading from each face. A large circular dais dominated this central room, flanked by eight pedestals, one for each corner of the room. A turquoise glow filled the room, acting as the visible partner for the embrace of icy air within.

Naptali shivered involuntarily. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Drauglin looked around for a few moments in silence. He walked around, inspecting the floor. “This was once used as a summoning chamber. There are still faint marks on the stone from it. The coldness is artificial, either for the summoning, or because of it. I don’t know which.” He looked at her. “Come. We need to look at these ante-chambers.”

“You might want to start with this one,” said Naptali, the distress audible in her voice.

Drauglin turned and peered to see that the small room Naptali had entered had lit up, exposing three dead bodies. One had been charred so badly it was only a blackened skeleton, another lying with a broken neck, a look of sheer horror upon the perfectly preserved face. The last was the most disturbing, for it was simply missing the top half of its body. It was as though its head and upper torso had simply disappeared.

“They killed each other with magic,” said Drauglin.

“But who was victorious?” Naptali asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But I think we’re going to find out. Let’s look at the other rooms.”

They moved with a sense of urgency between the rooms. “Alchemical lab,” said Drauglin of the first. It was monopolised by a large table, with shelves on the walls holding all manner of glass apparatus. “Reagent room.” It appeared like a ramshackle arrangement of drawers, cupboards and chests. The fourth passage was a staircase, leading down an indeterminable distance deeper below. “We’ll look there later,” said Drauglin.

The next room was empty, followed by a chamber with small platforms that Drauglin explained were used for practicing spells. The last contained three bookshelves packed with heavy tomes. Two had been pulled out and lay on the small desk. Drauglin moved forward and looked at them. “Here,” he said. “Look at this.”

She looked at him frostily. “You know I never learned to read.”

“Sorry,” Drauglin replied. “They’re on summoning. This one appears to be some sort of journal.”

“Read them, then tell me,” Naptali said.

She waited silently as Drauglin read, a soft mutter occasionally escaping his lips as he flicked through the old pages. “It’s not clear,” he said softly.

“What?”

He looked at her frustrated. “The notes indicate they were trying to summon extraplanar creatures, but…”

“What’s an extraplanar creature?” asked Naptali.

“They don’t really exist. Or at least, not in a ‘solid’ sense like things that we know. They have to be forced into a corporeal form as they are summoned.”

“Next question,” she said. “Why?”

Drauglin smiled. “That’s easy. Power. The more difficult questions are ‘whom’ and when.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at these tomes,” he said. “You can see the fingermarks that have taken away the dust. At least on these two.” He turned to the bookshelf on his left and pulled a book from it. A plume of dust shot forth to accompany it. Once they stopped coughing, he spoke. “None of the other books have been touched. The dust alone says that they’ve been here for a long time. The almost unintelligible language means that they were also written then. But those dead magicians we saw, they didn’t write these. They only died recently.”

Naptali gave him a quizzical look. “What you’re saying is that those magicians did something to cause the disturbance and get themselves killed?”

“Exactly!” Drauglin said, clapping his hands together. “The worrying thing is, I’m not sure exactly what they disturbed. But it was nothing good.” Naptali gazed at him attentively, so he continued. “Whatever was originally summoned was too powerful for the summoners. The diary notes that there was a group of magicians, and several of them died trying to control it. The last entry indicates only that the author trapped ‘the beast’ permanently in a cage of magic.”

“Down the stairs?”

Drauglin nodded. “But I need to look in the reagent room first. The diary mentioned the use of crystals to drain its power. I have no idea what might be down those stairs, but I don’t want to go without those crystals.”

“Take all the time you need, Drauglin.” Naptali said. “I don’t like my chances at being able to hit something with my sword if it doesn’t have a body.”

Drauglin looked through the drawers carefully, and began pulling out long amber and violet crystals. “I think these are what we need,” he said. “They can store magical energy, and nothing else in here is remotely useful. At least, not anymore.” He picked up an unidentifiable ball that crumbled to dust between his fingers. Eventually, a total of eight crystals went into his small pack.

“Is that enough?” Naptali asked.

“It will have to be,” he replied.

“Then let’s go.” She walked towards the stairs calmly despite her terror of the unknown horror below.

The slow descent fuelled a growing unease that was suffocating in such close quarters. Neither of them spoke for fear of disturbing the cloying silence, as though it would be animated by the palpable magic that permeated their bodies. The feeling was nauseating in the way it emanated from everywhere, and each step seemed to cause more energy to rise and envelop them.

Naptali shuddered involuntarily and stopped. “I can’t stand it Drauglin.” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “It’s filling me as well.” His eyes glimmered with a vague aura of fear. “The magicians didn’t kill each other.” He said with a sudden note of realisation.

“They didn’t?”

Drauglin shook his head. “No. They killed themselves because they couldn’t control their magic.”

“You still can?” Naptali dreaded asking the question, but dreaded his answer more.

“At the moment.”

She inhaled worriedly. “It’s getting stronger, isn’t it?”

Drauglin nodded. “But we have to keep going.”

Naptali said nothing as she took another step down the long staircase. A soft, flickering colour was growing stronger as they moved down, distorting their perceptions even further. They finally saw the bottom of the staircase, and it appeared as though an ever-changing sun was captured below the earth.

They stepped forward into a massive chamber carved from the rock. It was impeccable in creation, a circular space with perfectly angled slopes carving a cone-shaped hollow into both the floor and ceiling. And within that vast emptiness was the blinding flurry of colour that was the source of the unrelenting light and energy. Naptali squinted as she tried to look at it directly, an act that felt as though it caused her physical pain.

“There’s far too much wild magical energy here,” said Drauglin. “Whatever is inside is trying to break free, and it doesn’t really care how it does it.”

“What do we do?” asked Naptali.

Drauglin held his finger to his lips and shut his eyes. Naptali could only wait as his eyes flickered wildly from underneath their closed lids. She could not imagine what he was doing, and was not sure that she wanted to.

“It’s as though this being exudes magic,” he said. “That’s what they needed the crystals for, to drain some of its essence and power before caging it.”

“There’s too much magic?”

“Yes, and I need to dissipate some of that energy first. Otherwise I don’t know what will happen when I try and strengthen the bonds.” Naptali had never seen Drauglin look so apprehensive about magic before, and it filled her with trepidation too. “I’m going to have to weaken the cage slightly and pull the energy from the ‘beast’ itself in order to do so.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes, but less so than trying to strengthen the cage as is it. Draining energy is a simple spell, but manipulating it into a cage…” Drauglin let his voice trail off.

The magician laid out the crystals on the floor in front of him. Standing bolt upright, he moved his arms in a circular motion and brought them in front of his chest. His fingers were splayed apart, with his thumbs barely apart and his palms directed at the crystals. The crystals began to glow faintly as Drauglin’s fingers became fiercely rigid. They lit up with ever increasing strength as Drauglin held his position for what seemed like an eternity.

The vague hum of energy filled the room with an oppressive air, as though it were demanding their silence. Naptali felt her head throb as the colour in the centre of the room grew stronger and thrashed more violently as time passed. The gentle glow of the crystals had swelled into a strong light source as Drauglin’s spell continued. As they approached a luminescence that nearly drowned out their original colour, Drauglin stopped.

He turned to Naptali. “They’re not enough.”

“What?” she asked, worriedly.

“I wasn’t able to drain enough energy into the crystals. There’s still too much magic for me to be able to strengthen the cage without the threat of killing us both and setting it free.”

Naptali beamed with pride as an idea entered her head. “Can we go find more crystals?”

Drauglin shook his head in resignation. “Those crystals aren’t easy to find, and I’ve weakened the cage too much. In the time it would take to get them, this thing would have broken free.”

The elf exhaled helplessly. “Then we best run as fast as we can and hope we get help in time.”

“I don’t know what it is, Naptali,” he said. “But I from what was written in that journal, we can’t let it get free. There’s one last option.”

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” Drauglin shook his head. “What is it?” she asked.

“I drain the magical energy into you. You’re a better vessel for it than anything else we could possibly find in time.”

Her expression was tinged with anger. “I don’t appreciate being called a vessel.”

“Sorry. Magical term,” said Drauglin. “I know it makes you feel sick, but the fact that you can feel the energy means that you can hold a lot of it, as though you were storing it to cast a spell.”

A wave of anticipatory sickness gushed over Naptali, but she knew Drauglin would not have suggested it except as a last, desperate resort. “Where should I stand?” she asked resignedly.

“There is fine,” he said. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

She nodded at Drauglin and saw his hands clench as his face turned harsh with concentration. He thrust an open hand in her direction and another towards the centre of the room, and suddenly beams of the kaleidoscope flow arced towards her through him. She felt the energy flowing into her from the visible stream that burst from Drauglin’s fingers. Each crest in the undulating wave assaulted her with a surge of nausea that made her want to vomit. Her skin felt hot and sweaty with an unrelenting blistering that fought to overwhelm her senses.

“Just a little longer!” Drauglin yelled.

Naptali could not find the strength to respond verbally, her eyes looking helplessly at him with palpable suffering. Suddenly she felt her body lurch to the ground and her stomach heaved and violently expelled its contents. The acrid taste of bile filled her mouth and caused her insides to churn more, trying to rid itself of the unknown evil that wracked her.

She suddenly felt herself launched into the air, and saw a new multi-coloured stream flying towards her chest directly from the centre of the room. It hit her with indescribable agony, and she barely managed to avoid passing out immediately. “Drauglin!” Every fibre of her body provided fuel to the ear-splitting scream of pain and terror.

His expression was filled with utter dread, and immediately he turned his full attention towards her. She felt the burning of her skin subside slightly as the stream between them grew thicker, though it was obviously that Drauglin was now draining the magic from her.

“Hold on!” he yelled. “I’ll break the bond as soon as I can!” He moved his hands frantically as his eyes danced in spasm. Streaks of colour flashed into the air, forming a semi-transparent lattice as they flaked towards the centre of the room in disparate pieces.

Naptali felt her consciousness slipping from her grasp and the room fade into an insubstantial blur. It was as though she were ceasing to exist, burning away into sheer magical energy. It had transcended pain and she simply felt disjoint from her body, unable to feel emotion or sensation, merely sensing the phenomenal flows of magic in this alternate space.

She suddenly felt her feeling return as her body dropped to the hard floor. No longer suspended in space, her head landed with unbroken force on the cold stone. She could still see the streams of magic flowing around, Drauglin desperately trying to repel the large worm-like tube that was trying to push its way towards him.

The magician was beading with sweat over his entire body from exertion, desperately tearing off parts of the raw energy to reinforce the slowly growing lattice cage. The stream pushed ever closer, creeping with deadly intent to envelop him. Drauglin’s actions grew even more erratic, a wild flurry of hysterical movement to save his own life.

In an instant, the lattice closed and the malevolent force dissipated harmlessly into the air. Drauglin’s actions slowed gradually in pace, the lattice growing and layering itself in increasing depth. The unpredictable multi-coloured glare gave way to a constant, cooler glow as the magical beast became wrapped in an impenetrable weave.

An eternity seemed to pass before Drauglin finally stopped. He cast a final concerned look at Naptali, and then collapsed onto the ground with exhaustion. He looked at her blankly in his inert form. “Sorry I couldn’t help you faster.” The words were a bare hush before he passed out. Naptali felt herself losing her own struggle for consciousness, and saw the black edges of her vision meet and fold over until all sensation disappeared.

When she awoke in a hazy rush, her skin still felt on fire and her entire body throbbed with an unquenchable pain. Her insides felt as though they had been churned through, and her muscles swayed feebly. Naptali forced her eyes open under protest, and saw an unwelcome blur cloud her vision. She managed a soft groan of pain, and she felt a stopping sensation. It was strange because she had not even registered that she had been moving.

She was placed on the ground, and saw Drauglin looking down at her. “I didn’t expect you to be awake quite so quickly. You need more rest.”

Naptali tried to object, but her mouth fought and refused to make an intelligible sound. She realised she wasn’t even sure what words she wanted to say. Then a sudden wave of tiredness wracked her, and her eyes drooped to close.

“I’ll get us back to Lowelm. You’ll be able to recover there.”

Consciousness became an abstract concept for Naptali as they moved. She wasn’t sure where Drauglin was finding the strength to carry her and travel at the blurred speed she almost felt them travelling at. Night had fallen, but they still moved with great speed, and Drauglin’s main concern appeared to be getting to Lowelm as quickly as possible.

She eventually felt herself being lain down, and the comforting voice of Lowelm’s priest murmuring incomprehensibly. His reassuring tone was tinged with grave concern, but her body responded to his ministrations with welcome relief. Her eyes occasionally blinked open to see Drauglin’s worried form, hunched vigilantly by her side.

Eventually, a wave of cold struck Naptali with force, sapping the feeling of unnatural warmth that had tormented her. She searched vainly for a blanket as her eyes struggled against the recuperative sleep. Drauglin had collapsed from fatigue, by awoke with a start as he heard her rouse. “Why is it so cold in here?” she demanded.

“Glad to hear you’re okay,” he said groggily. Disappeared momentarily before placing a blanket over her and collapsing beside her again. If a sudden lack of energy had not stopped her, Naptali would have smiled.

By the time she woke again, Drauglin was gone. The priest looked back at her with his characteristic benevolence, making sure of her health. “Where is Drauglin?” she asked.

“He just left,” the man said. “But said to tell you that he’ll see you far too soon.”

Naptali gave an amused grunt. “I’m sure. And I’ll bet he’s right.”

Lowelm's Shadow (Part 1) (Original)

And now for a bit of a change of pace. Fantasy is considered by some to be a lesser art of writing, because it's "easy" (at least to write bad, potentially publishable fantasy) and because the writer gets to make up their own rules for just about everything. And then they get to break those rules using magic. I would agree, but also argue that the art of writing good fantasy is very difficult, because you have to maintain consistency and develop the entire history, pantheon, social structure, etc, in order to present an engrossing and believable world.

But I digress. As a short story, it is largely devoid of the connections to the greater world, history, and all those good qualities I just espoused. But, rest assured, it does belong to such a world, and I hope to write more from it in the future. Also, this is the first part of the short story. I'm still working on completing it, but given what I've written so far clocks in at around 2,200 words, I thought it would be best to post it in two parts.



Naptali whirled as a threatening noise cracked forth from the natural thrum of the forest. Her long, burnished hair rippled with unease as a strange energy coursed in the air. Birds became silent and flittered away, while the soft thumping of feet spoke the retreat of deer and rabbits. Her elven ears pricked tightly, Naptali drew her sword with soft hands, unsheathing it without a single whisper against its scabbard. A faint hint twitched through Naptali’s body, telling her the source of the disturbance: magic.

Her footsteps barely left a touch on the wild grass, practiced movement meaning she was silent and untraceable. The trees rustled with grave warning, letting their friend know of an impending danger, all the while trying to conceal her presence. Whatever was stalking her, Naptali could tell it was close. It was moving cautiously, yet with not enough stealth, and she ducked quickly into a seemingly impenetrable growth of spiked bushes with untold ease.

The unknown foe approached as Naptali crouched at the ready, and suddenly a figure stepped before her invisible hiding place. In an instant Naptali was on her feet and had her sword point at her opponent’s throat.

The man stopped deadly still as he felt the sharp tip against the side of his neck. His dark eyes moved sideways to look at her nervously while rooted in place. Brushing the top of his hood back slowly with his left hand, he gave a puzzled look. “How in the world do you do that?” He asked incredulously. “And is that any way to greet an old friend, Naptali?”

“Drauglin!” She said with a great smile. He sheathed her sword and kissed him lightly on the cheek before embracing him. “It’s been too long, friend.”

“Indeed it has, my dear elf,” his look of worry giving way to a warm smirk. “Though, of course, I have to envy that you still look like someone I wish I could court.”

“Don’t be foolish, Drauglin,” she admonished him. “If you wanted to court me, not even your magic would give you the power to speak even one intelligent word!”

Both of them had been young when she had first met the powerful magician, and no matter how many years passed, neither of them could forget his painfully inept attempts to woo a young girl on that first occasion. It had been a running joke between the two of them ever since. Drauglin grimaced in mock anguish at Naptali’s barb and sighed. “Ah, a precious flower you would be to me, dare I to pluck you and offer my kind heart.”

“That’s more like it,” said Naptali with a grin. “But how come I’m lucky enough to see you here?”

Drauglin’s faced dropped. “I wouldn’t exactly consider it luck. That would probably be the last word I would use.”

Naptali knew the graveness of his tone spoke of a deep-seated worry. It was a voice that was reserved for matters of importance, matters that could affect the futures of many. She gave a concerned look East to the town of Lowelm, a community that had long been under her protection, and her home. “Come,” she said to Drauglin. “Whatever it is that you have to tell me, it would be best said in my home.”

“But,” began Drauglin.

“No,” she insisted. “It is late in the day already. And whatever it is can wait until we return there.” He nodded in reluctant acquiescence. “Besides,” Naptali added with a knowing look, “I’m guessing we’re going to need supplies for wherever it is we’re going.”

The two reached the small town just as night began to fall. Knowing Drauglin would not wish to attract significant attention to himself, she took him directly to her home. She moved quickly about the house and lit several lamps to combat the fading light. Offering him a seat, she sat down and looked at him concerned. “I’m worried that I might have an idea why you are here,” she said.

Drauglin appraised her cautiously. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” she replied. “Not for certain. I just know that I felt something about a week ago. It was big.”

“Magical?” He exhaled pointedly as Naptali nodded. For reasons Drauglin didn’t know, Naptali was strangely attuned to magic energy, despite that she was unable to use it. That she had felt something was worrying.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” She inquired.

“It was a release of magical energy,” Drauglin explained. “Or rather, being violently dissipated. Near the old ruins to the south.”

“I’d often thought to ask you about those,” said Naptali. “Though I suppose you probably would have dodged the question.”

Drauglin smiled. “Possibly, but generally I’m evasive for your own good. But in this case, until recently I wouldn’t have been able answer you. It was only because of that something that I found out what was there. Many things are forgotten and become secrets for a reason.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What kind of reason?”

“Because they are dangerous things for people to know.” Drauglin’s voice had reassumed that flat, serious tone. “But sometimes they must be remembered. So that something can be done about them.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Naptali growled. “What is this secret?”

“To be honest?” Drauglin paused. He ran a hand slowly back through his cropped, greying hair and sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that something is there. And it is nothing good.”

“You’ve got to give me more than that, Drauglin!” She exclaimed.

“I wish I could,” he said. “But I don’t know what it is. I just know that there is a lot of magical energy being disturbed. And there’s some kind of underground complex.”

“How do you know all this?” Naptali asked, her face hard.

“I felt that disturbance too. From a lot further away.” His eyes were flooded with concern. “I found the entrance yesterday. I walked only a short distance inside before I saw a corpse. The injuries it had sustained, it had to have been caused by magic.”

“I understand,” she said flatly. “We’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll ready my weapons and get supplies.”

“That’s it?” Drauglin asked.

“What else is there to say?” she replied. “I’ll make sure the town is prepared in case we don’t return.”

“You have a very bleak outlook at times, did you know that, Naptali?”

It was Naptali’s turn to answer with a dark tone. “Not all of us have magic to alter our destiny.”

She was glad Drauglin knew her well enough to answer only with silence.

They woke early the next day. They ate a full breakfast in a wisp of sunlight, and set off before it was fully risen. Both carried a small pack of food supplies, and Naptali carried her sword and bow. She had offered Drauglin a lightweight weapon, but he produced an ornate dagger and refused.

“No offence, Naptali, but if I have to use this, I doubt whatever you can offer will protect me more.” Her simple shrug was the only natural reply.

The hours of walking passed with light conversation, with both recounting events since they had last met. Drauglin shadowed Naptali, for her natural affinity with the forest produced an easy path for him to follow. Across the light scrub she found flat ground, through the trees she made a straight path, and in dense brush she trod an invisible track through seemingly impenetrable vegetation.

“Naptali, I think you have your own kind of magic in weaving through this forest,” Drauglin commented. She stared back with a blank expression, an icy disposition lurking beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “I know how you feel about magic.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, and then continued walking in silence.

A few moments later, Naptali came to an abrupt halt. Drauglin, with his head still partially down to avoid her gaze, bumped into her back. She gave a short curse as she grabbed onto a sapling. Her body teetered forward over the steep bank of a river, the small tree stretching painfully under her weight. Drauglin recovered quickly from his surprise and grabbed her free arm, tugging her back from the edge.

“Thank you,” she said. “Though it helps if you look where you’re going.”

He gave her a sheepish expression, and then looked at the river. “I don’t remember this.”

Naptali looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure how you missed it,” she said. “It’s virtually impossible to cover this territory without crossing it.” She looked left and right in vague annoyance. “But I thought it narrowed enough that we could leap it somewhere around here.”

“Why don’t we just wade through?” Drauglin asked.

Naptali scanned the river for a moment then pointed a finger at the water. Drauglin followed her motion to a patch of shade. Just as he was about to speak, a bird dived down and skimmed the surface of the smooth river. In an instant, the dark patch darted forth and a mouth filled with teeth emerged from the surface. A flash of those stained daggers enveloped the hapless bird and disappeared like a nightmare beneath the impenetrable murk.

“Good answer,” said Drauglin.

“Come on.” Naptali motioned for him to follow her.

“No,” he said. “My turn to find the path.” He signalled for her to come to him. “Take my hand.”

“What?” She asked. “Why?” She grimaced as her hand clasped his. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not,” he answered.

Naptali felt her stomach churn as Drauglin’s eyes gave a brief look of concentration. Time felt as though it were slowed down and the air crackled with a silent sound that Naptali knew was magic. She almost felt compelled to shut her eyes, but she kept them open and saw the colours of the scenery warp into a green mud. As the blur cleared, Naptali saw they were on the opposite side of the bank

“Next time I won’t ask,” she said. “Though it still doesn’t solve the problem that I’m now not sure exactly where we are.”

“That’s not a problem either,” said Drauglin. “I know where we need to go.” He concentrated for a moment, and Naptali felt the distinct unease of magic pulse through her. “It’s that way.” Drauglin pointed a finger slightly to their left. “And it’s not very far away.” Naptali shook off the unnatural feeling of Drauglin’s spell and started moving in the direction that he had pointed.

The sun had already passed its peak and they had still not eaten since morning, so a trace of hunger lingered in Naptali’s stomach. She had a vague desire to stop and eat, but black clouds loomed with malice, so grabbed an apple from her pack and ate as they moved. She felt an uncomfortable itch on her skin for an instant, and turned back to see Drauglin with a peeled orange in his hand. “Can’t you use your hands like normal people?” She asked.

Naptali had almost finished her apple when they came to the clearing. The forest suddenly gave way to erratic grassland dotted with the remnants of buildings. The ruins were an oddity amongst the substantial foliage, for they marked an otherwise interrupted wilderness. There was something amiss in its presence, its silence dissonant against the typical murmur of the forest.

Naptali felt a chill rush through her body involuntarily, and looked at Drauglin accusingly.

“That wasn’t me,” he said worriedly. “I’m not sure where it came from.” His eyes glazed in concentration for an instant. “There’s nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” Naptali asked.

“I can’t feel or see anything,” Drauglin replied. “There’s nothing around here that…” He suddenly looked at Naptali in shock as they both felt a massive surge of energy.

“What was that?” she exclaimed.

“We need to get to that complex. It’s coming from inside.” Drauglin’s tone was severe.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Naptali.

“I’ll give you the answer when I know it,” he replied. “Follow me.”

They moved with measured urgency, eager to find the source of the disturbance, but also wary of its possible danger. Drauglin led with the confidence of conviction, his normally troubled step finding easy purchase on the undulating terrain. His steps travelled in a near straight line, his faultless memory taking them directly to a near invisible arrangement of stones near the edge of the clearing. “Here,” he said.

Naptali looked around, confused. “I don’t see anything.”

“Not yet,” Drauglin replied. A soft whisper parted his lips as his hand made a small circular motion at the stones embedded in the ground. Three pale flashes of light sprung forth from his hand and danced around the rocks. Their spirals lasted momentarily, then burnt out into nothingness.

Naptali stood bewildered for an instant, before her expression turned to one of amazement as the ground began to shimmer and fade before her eyes. The grass disappeared to show a small staircase of stone leading into darkness underground.

“A concealed entrance?” She asked incredulously.

“The mark of a secret that is supposed to be forgotten,” Drauglin said.

Naptali gave him an admonishing look. “Not everything can be fixed by hiding it.”

“Then let us determine which one of the two this is.” He motioned for her to go down. “Quickly, let's move.”

---------- To be concluded