On Vog Mur, five beings were gathered in an opulent drawing room. A crackling fire in the hearth warmed the chamber, while outside icy rain lashed against the leaded windows, and sea-winds howled like angry Wights. ‘Vog Mur’ wasn’t Elvish for ‘Death Watch’ for nothing.
Four men and a woman, they were all alike in some ways, while glaringly different in others. Voriig Kye and Ulya Shek were joined by three others: Oran Jatar, whose snowy hair and ashen-pale skin gave him a ghostly look; Sulthon Ni’shaang, who was tall and lean with wild, fiery red hair, ruddy skin and copper eyes; and finally Drûl Churk, who was totally bald and had eyes like glittering emeralds. These five were less than allies, but nor were they enemies. They were bound together by a common nature: all were Dragonlords, greatest of their kind.
Sulthon Ni’shaang stood close to the hearth, staring into the flames. “You and I have discussed this before, Voriig.” He said with a sigh. He had a voice like the others: a tenor overlaid with a rough, echoing bass which filled even this large room. His sigh seemed to fan the flames before him so that they leapt up the chimney. He was the red dragon, a creature of fire. “None of these little monkeys is a threat to us! Not the Ahrenreth, not the Alliance, and not even this K’ta’viir you seem so concerned about.”
“But these ‘monkeys’ as you so like to call the humanoids, have great forces at their command. You know this as well as I do! After our betrayal by Morloch the Ordainer in our previous bid to control the Ahrenreth, you must perceive that Schrek, the chief of the Jerak Ahrenreth, is not entirely ‘human.’”
Sulthon did not answer but turned away as if the memory pained him.
“But you have the staff that binds Schrek to his human form, do you not?” Ulya Shek, curled on a sofa of toorga-hide, asked. “Didn’t you manage to steal that away from him some time ago?”
Voriig glanced at Oran Jatar and pursed his lips. “Actually, we separated the Faaw Shryak into three parts. I had the headpiece while Oran kept the two parts of the rod.”
“I notice that you say that you ‘had’ the headpiece?” Ulya asked with a sly smile and an upraised eyebrow.
“True. The headpiece, along with the Sword and Pendant of the Sea-Drake realm of Jaiman, and several other lesser items, were stolen from my vault here a few years ago.”
“What!” The windows shook as Ulya, Ni’shaang, and Churk exclaimed as one. Oran Jatar sat silent in the shadows, templing his long fingers.
“You were robbed?” Sulthon demanded, aghast.
“I was away at the time, seeking our missing brother. I suspect the thief may have been one of the Loremasters; so much for them not being a threat.”
The Red Dragon scowled. “I shall double my guard on the Sea-Drake helm, just to be safe. Oran Jatar, do you still have the remaining two parts?”
“Yes, in two different locations. There is no need for concern… yet.”
Kye nodded to Jatar, then addressed the group again. “We have not even discussed Ondoval, the K’ta’viir lord. He has the Book of Gates, and with it he has secured the Shadowstone from the dim past of the First Era.”
“But he has had it for centuries and done nothing.” Drûl Churk protested.
“Nothing except turn the Ahrentorg into a vast fortress, and gather no less that six Ordainers under his will.” Ulya retorted.
“Ordainers! I didn’t even realize that many Lord demons remained in the world.” Sulthon exclaimed, then turned on Ulya Shek. “How do you know this?” He demanded.
“She has some experience with the K’ta’viiri, do you not, my dear?” Oran Jatar taunted from his dark corner.
The female Dragonlord gave him a sharp look and tossed her hair. “Very well. The White Dragon is correct. I awakened one of the Old Ones from her sleep-vault some time ago. Jenkyna and I discovered that we had compatible goals and have been working together. I would agree with Voriig that these beings are not to be underestimated. While they are not intrinsically as powerful as any of our company, they do wield considerable forces. And their technology is impressive. Ondoval may not be a direct threat to us but he bears watching. We have had him under surveillance for some time; that is why I know what I do.”
“Thank you for sharing that information.” Voriig said dryly.
“Better late than never, I suppose.” Sulthon added testily.
“Since when do I have to report my activities to you?” Ulya snapped back.
“Stop your bickering!” Voriig Kye roared.
“So what is to be done?” Oran Jatar asked (relatively) quietly, when the echoes had faded. “It seems apparent that you, Voriig, believe this Ondoval will upset the balance of power in the West. Surely the five of us together could defeat him.”
“Of that I am not certain, at least not without great cost to ourselves.” Voriig turned back to the window.
“We have become complacent, passive.” Drûl Churk muttered. “Only Ulya and Sulthon even have dominions of appreciable size anymore, while the rest of us hide away on remote islands. And there are few other great dragons we might summon to serve us. Our race is dying. Sometimes I think the Dragon-helms were a curse disguised.”
Oran Jatar shot him a dagger-glance but said nothing. Even as the one who helped make the helms, he could not argue that they had ‘tamed’ the lords somewhat.
“It is unfortunate that Kydak Dûm is not here. I would value his counsel right now.” Voriig sighed. “I have sensed the Golden Dragon, but he seems far away, perhaps beyond the barrier.”
“I have the same suspicion. Though why he would go there…” Oran Jatar trailed off, then suddenly sat bolt upright and turned to the woman. “Ulya Shek, what of this K’ta’viir magic, this ‘technology’ they possess? What is its nature?”
The Black Dragon stretched out on the sofa, clearly enjoying that she was the center of attention. “It is like and yet unlike our magic and artifacts. I have learned much from Jenkyna, yet she demurs from revealing all she knows to me and I cannot fathom her thoughts to any depth.
“In some ways their devices remind me of the machines of the Loari of Námar-Tol, but they are much more sophisticated. Unlike artifacts, these machines sometimes fail with age, the motive force that powers them drained away. Others seem to be self-renewing. One such thing, like a great octopus, is her personal guardian. It floats in the air like an Agothu Overseer, the arms always wavering. But it is a machine, and answers to her unspoken command. It is also very strong. I would not want to tangle with it!” Ulya shuddered then as if the thought of the guardian repulsed her.
“Does she have many of these?” Oran Jatar leaned forward. Talk of machines and artifacts ignited his interest like nothing else.
“I am only aware of three, and I think one no longer functions. I have the impression that even in the heyday of the Essænce Lords, these machines were few and treasured.”
“Unfortunate.” Jatar sat back in his chair. “Though I would be very interested to see these mechanical guardians.”
“Perhaps it can be arranged, though Jenkyna is understandably… reticent.”
“But she might be convinced to help us against Ondoval?” Voriig asked.
“She agrees that he is a dangerous threat.”
“Jenkyna might be exactly what we need to take control of the Jerak Ahrenreth. As a full-blood K’ta’viir, she could claim membership and appoint you, Ulya, to the council as well. The original Ahrenreth was made up of Essænce Lords and its purpose was to prevent their kind from subjugating the world in later ages. Perhaps it can serve that function again.” Voriig’s voice trailed off, until the only sound in the room was the pop and crack of the fire, and the spatter of rain on the windows.
Journal of Kalen Avanir
TE 6047, Orhan 5, day 29, Evening
Gryphon College, Prevan
This will be our tenth night at Gryphon College. While it has been fascinating, and I would not mind staying longer, more than a week is considered to be abusing your host’s hospitality. And after all we came uninvited in the first place, and I feel it is time to return home. Our plan if the weather holds is to depart tomorrow morning at first light. If we make good time on the road, we would be home by nightfall.
While here, I have read some interesting history, had a few lessons on the quindera, and even learned (despite Jad’s misgivings) to cast a magical spell: I can cause an unlocked door to lock without so much as touching it. I must admit it is exhilarating to be able to do even such a relatively minor thing, and the instructor here who taught me said that I have magical potential. I doubt my father would approve however; and a sorcerer-duke would be looked on with suspicion at court!
Meanwhile Jad has been eagerly soaking up all he can about the unusual fighting styles they teach here. He has even learned a few of their acrobatic moves.
While the students of Gryphon College have been polite enough, they are not exactly forthcoming. While I still think Jad’s talk of ‘flying people’ is farfetched, there is definitely an aura of secrecy about this place. If there are indeed some sort of magical fliers here, what is their purpose? Are they spies for Zaris? Messengers? Could she be secretly aligned with Frelik, the Pretender to the throne?
But tonight we will find out. Since it is our last night here, we will try to prove his theory right or wrong. He does have a good point in that there are no windows in the guest rooms that face the courtyard and the tower. And the corridors to that part of the college are locked off at night. It’s enough to make me wish I knew an ‘Unlock’ spell!
I’ve given in to Jad’s pressure, and we are going to sneak outside this evening and watch the tower to see if the shutters would open. I have a feeling it will be a long night of sitting out in the cold and seeing nothing of interest, however.
After dinner with Zaris and some others of the faculty, Jad and Kalen retired to their room. Kalen flopped on the bed and closed his eyes. He had found every dinner with the Chancellor to be a trying event: what Zaris seemed to consider to be ‘polite conversation’ felt more like ‘interrogation’ to him. She asked many questions, and her replies to his own queries were usually vague or evasive.
“Look what I have!” Jad said triumphantly.
Kalen opened one eye. His cousin was standing at the foot of the bed, a bottle of wine in each hand. “Where did you get those?” he asked suspiciously.
“They were sitting on a table by the door to the dining room. They looked lonely, so I decided to invite them up.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you are getting a little too good at stealing things!”
“By Kieron’s casks! Relax, Kalen! It’s our last night and I thought these would help us pass the evening while we wait for the show to start. Come on, I’ll let you beat me at Orhan and Charón again.”
“‘Let me’ beat you!” Kalen sat up then. “You’ve never ‘let’ anyone beat you at anything in your entire life, Jad Hurok!”
“You don’t know that.” Jad fought to keep a straight face.
“Set up the board. We shall see who is the better player.”
“Excellent! You open the wine. There are glasses and a corkscrew in that bedside cabinet. I secured those last night.” He added with a smile in response to Kalen’s surprised look.
Kalen won three games in a row, though Jad came close on the last match when Orgiana and Moralis managed to cast out Valris and so make Kuor vulnerable (Jad always liked playing the Dark Gods). But Kalen called Jaysek to the rescue and banished Scalu. They were setting up for a fourth game (and nearly done with the second bottle of wine) when the midnight chime sounded. The cousins paused and looked at each other across the board; they had agreed that any activity was not likely to begin until the predawn quintar.
“So I guess we should go have a look.” Kalen said softly. He was suddenly feeling nervous and more than a little guilty.
As usual, Jad read his expression. “Do I need to remind you that we were never expressly forbidden from going for a midnight stroll?”
“No,” Kalen answered slowly as he shrugged into his cloak, “But that’s not what we’re doing and you know it. We’re sneaking around.”
Jad didn’t answer, but blew out the candles by their gaming board and made his way to the door.
Kalen parted the curtains and for a moment the silvery light of gibbous Orhan streaked into the room. He joined his cousin by the door. “At least we shall have plenty of light to see your flying men by.” Even as his eyes adjusted to the darkness Kalen saw Jad defiantly stick out his tongue.
The Squire lifted the latch and slowly pulled the door open, just enough for them to slip through. They had agreed that the best strategy was probably to make their way to the kitchen and out into the courtyard through there. The corridor was lit only lamps spaced every ten paces or so, their wicks turned low. Nevertheless, both youths were able to see quite well in even this light because of their superior Elven vision. They met no one as they turned right and down the hall to the library. The entry to this room was actually a pair of coffered doors which slid apart into the walls on a track. Jad eased one open a crack and peered in, then pushed it back further and eased in. Kalen followed and Jad slid the panel shut again. They were on the library balcony, which was quite dark. Below them, a handful of students were intent on their texts. The boys kept back to the wall and made their way to the east library doors, through a short hall and to a stairwell. Down two flights of the ancient steps and they were at a door which opened onto the courtyard. As Kalen suspected, it was locked.
“Now what?” He demanded in a whisper, hoping that Jad would be deterred by this setback.
But his cousin only smiled and produced a large, rather ornate key from his shirt pocket.
“I don’t even want to know where you got that!”
“No, you probably don’t, my virtuous cousin.” Jad mumbled with a crooked smile as he fitted the key into the lock and turned it – or tried to. The Squire’s smile faded as he wiggled the key in the lock and tried turning it back and forth. “How vexing!” He knelt down to look more closely. “I was sure this key would work.”
“Let me see,” Kalen growled. If there was one thing he was better than his cousin with, it was mechanical things like this.
Jad stepped aside and waved Kalen over. “Be my guest!”
The Marquess knelt to examine the lock, then the key, then experimented with inserting it in the lock. Though the key fit in properly, it was plainly not an exact match for the lock. The mechanism was fairly sophisticated and of a different design than was typically used in Rhakhaan buildings, but Kalen thought he might be able to get around it. It was a puzzle for him to solve now, nothing more or less. He took out a small knife he always carried and used it to bend one of the teeth of the key, then tried the key in the lock again. He was amazed at how strong yet light the metal of the key was; he ruined his knife-blade bending it. He repeated this bend and test process several times while Jad kept watch, growing increasingly nervous as he did so.
“Can you hurry it up!?” Jad asked hoarsely.
“This takes time! You’re the one who wanted to – wait! Here we are!” Kalen grinned as the key turned and the lock clicked as the bar slid into place. He lifted the heavy latch and pushed.
Inside the massive tower, a large round table of smooth black stone squatted in the center of a windowless circular room. The surface of the table was inscribed with arcane symbols, lines and arcs, and in the center rested a massive orb of crystal nearly as tall as a man. The orb glowed with a swirling blue-green light, casting eerie shadows which flickered across the walls.
At the table sat Zaris, her hands spread out across the ebony surface, her gaze locked on the orb. In those swirling lights was a vision only she could see, one of many the orb had revealed to her this evening. But then, alerted by an intuition, she pulled her gaze back from distant dark places to her own home. The moment of vertigo faded and a rippling image of the College courtyard came into focus. She detected movement in the holly bushes along the inner east wall, moved her view closer. There, crouching in the underbrush were two intruders: the young Marquess and his Squire. They were watching the tower. Zaris considered taking action but rejected the idea. Let them have a show. Even if the boys did report what they saw, who would believe them? And she had more pressing matters to deal with.
“We couldn’t have chosen a better night!” Jad grinned, his eyes twinkling.
“It could be a bit warmer!” Kalen huffed, his breath steaming. He pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
“I’d think all that wine would be keeping you warm.” Jad elbowed him gently then settled in next to his cousin. He was giddy with anticipation.
“I don’t know how you can be so confident. For all we know that tower is a big grain silo.”
“I Don’t know how I know, I just know. And it’s not a grain silo.”
“I just hope we don’t get caught.”
“What is she going to do to us?” Jad shrugged. “Turn us into frogs?”
“I bet she could.” Kalen said ominously.
Jad shot him a wary glance and they were silent for awhile, trying not to move too much, but having to shift a bit to avoid getting stiff from the cold. It was during one of these awkward maneuvers that they both heard a sound that turned them still as stone.
Chains clanking, like the sound of a drawbridge being raised. But it was coming from the tower.
The boys wore matching expressions of wide-eyed awe and surprise as they watched the shutters all begin to swing open in unison, as if controlled by the same mechanism. It took perhaps the count of fifty for them to open fully, almost flat against the tower. The boys could see movement inside (Jad later said it looked like there were platforms and ladders) but there were no torches or lamps within the tower.
Kalen felt Jad’s hand suddenly clamp down on his thigh, fingers digging into the flash. Then he saw something standing on a shelf at one of the openings that looked like a man, but he was wearing a large elaborate harness. Then the man leapt off!
Kalen gasped as the figure dove out into empty air, surely to his death on the ground a hundred feet below. But as he fell, the apparatus unfolded, spreading out from his back like a huge pair of wings. The flier swooped over the stunned boys, flapped the great bat-like wings and soared over the roofs of the College. Then perhaps ten more leapt from their tower perches and sailed out over the moonlit night.
“Stupendous!” Breathed Jad, then he turned to his cousin. “I hope you have plenty of boot-polish at home, my lord.” He said with a giggle.
But Kalen was more concerned about where those fliers were going, and what their purposes were. The one had flown over them quite close and Kalen could make out some details about his clothing and the machinery of the wings. He also noticed that the flier was wearing an orate mask, in the shape of a hawk’s head, the wings painted to look like feathers, like the head and wings of a Gryphon.
