The Orb of Wrath

Despite the light from the skylight, the brightness of the room was quite dim. It took a moment for them to adjust. They were in a small room of about six by five steps. Interestingly, all the furniture was covered with tarps and the state of the room indicated that it hadn't been used in a while. Mithir uncovered one of the pieces of furniture that was located next to the wall. It was a kind of bureau in which they could see papers, envelopes and scrolls. Everything was yellow and old. The furniture was very, very old but was well maintained. The wood was of a dark reddish color and it was hard, compact and very heavy. Ithelas explained that it was caliba, a tree that grew in tropical forests, often used to make luxury furniture. You could find this type of furniture in courts around the world and in the homes of the wealthy.

  There seemed to be nothing of interest there, so they approached the door, which was closed. Erion said, quietly, that he would go ahead. Nobody thought to argue. The young man came and put his ear to the door, asking them to keep silence. Shortly thereafter, he slowly opened the door and looked out. They were in a corridor that was even darker. The only illumination was a small lamp on the wall. It seemed to be of those which illuminate perpetually by magic. The furniture in the corridor wasn't covered, and you could tell it had been cleaned, perhaps a week or two ago. In that passage four more doors communicated: one attached, just to the right of Erion, two at the side in the middle of the gallery and another at the opposite end.

  With a gesture he asked the group to wait there and started creeping up to each one of them to listen. They all were surprised to see how the young man moved. There was absolutely no noise. A sound of a fly could be heard, but not Erion's steps. After a quick inspection, Erion came back and opened the first door, next to the waiting room where the rest of the group was. It was a bedroom. Again all the furniture was covered with tarps. The young man quickly scanned the room. With his training he could determine, in a couple of glimpses, if you find something worthwhile. Like the living room, it seemed that the room had not been used in centuries.

  Erion went back into the hall and then went into the next room. It was another room much like the previous one, but larger. It hadn't been used in a long time. Finally, he opened the door of the fourth room and found, this time, another bedroom but without tarps. Its condition was similar to the hall. It had been used recently and had no old dirt, although it was not very clean, and perhaps a week or two had passed since it had been cleaned and the floors scrubbed. The common element in all the rooms was the lack of windows or skylights that allowed the sunlight to enter; like the hall, the room was dimly lit by a few lamps on the wall.

  The bed was made and had blue sheets. Erion checked them; they were of fine silk, an exquisite fabric. He smelled the bedclothes and, by the fragrance, concluded that a woman, perhaps a young one, had slept there. The smell was faint, but Erion's senses were tuned. He checked the drawers, but couldn't find much. There was a towel, blankets and little else. Beside the bed there was a table with a huge bowl and a pitcher of water on the side. It was a common solution for personal hygiene, and very convenient to be in the bedroom itself. What caught Erion's attention was that there was no mirror on the wall behind the toilet, which was unusual.

  There was only one door left: the one at the opposite end of the hall. Erion sensed that it would lead to a different area of ​​the castle. Since he had not heard any noise through it, he had no idea what they would find. With a gesture he called the group, which walked in silence.

  “There's nobody in this area. Only one room, a bedroom, has been used, although not in the last two days,” he explained in whispers.

  “What're we going to do now?” Ithelas asked.

  “There's only that door left. I will continue exploring,” the young man said.

  He told them in whispers some more details of what he had seen and asked them to wait there as he walked into the next room. Before he even touched any door, Erion always checked it thoroughly, especially on certain specific points. Upon visual inspection, he touched them, with really bizarre movements, always following the same routine.

  “What the hell is your brother doing?” Ithelas asked Mithir.

  “He's looking for traps,” the magician explained.

  “He looks like he knows what he's doing,” Thost indicated.

  Erion tried to open the door, but it was locked. Then he drew his toolkit from his pocket and, moments later, the door was open. He had opened it without making virtually any noise. They all held their breath as the young man left the hall. They had ventured into the lair of a dangerous vampire, taking a big risk by doing so. They could find him at any time and this could be their end.

  Erion entered a large room, more than fifteen steps long. Again, there was no one in the room. On the wall to his right was a large double leaf door. The door was so large that two horses galloping could enter it, simultaneously, without the risk of touching each other. It had numerous steel reinforcements and a huge bar halfway up blocking its opening. It might well be the castle entrance. On the wall to his left was a second door, but this one was much smaller. It was very conventional, similar to the ones in the corridor through which he had just come out of.

  The huge room looked something like a foyer. Erion thought it might also be appropriate to hold a grand ball. All the space in the center of the room was cleared, revealing the spectacular floor. It consisted of small smooth stones, little more than one finger wide, of multiple colors. The pavement formed a scene that would have rivaled a painting of the best artist. The painting showed a huge red dragon on top of a ridge running a large flash of fire into a valley; it was both grim and dramatic, eerie and unsettling.

  The room was covered by a barrel vault without any major decorations. He noted that the vault had had large windows on both sides long ago that were now boarded up. That would have been, without doubt, a room with plenty of natural light. The vault was painted a dark ocher color, thereby concealing well the elimination of the windows. Erion could still guess the faint marks that were left where once they were located. The furnishings in the room, of a very ornate and elaborate style, were all arranged on the perimeter of the room, against the walls. They were different types of armchairs and chairs and a small table between them. Erion could already imagine a large congregation of socialites dancing at the center, while others chatted cheerfully in the armchairs, drinking fine wines in crystal glasses.

  The young man began to walk toward the gate. There was a large lock in it that, depending on the type, perhaps could let him take a look at what was on the other side.

  “Hey, you! How did you get in?” a voice said from the other end of the room.

  Erion suddenly turned and saw a tall, gaunt, strange man. He wore a whistle around his neck and he had caught him. He was moving it to his lips. He was going to raise the alarm! Suddenly, a swift arrow crossed the room and went through the man's neck. The stranger managed to support the whistle on his lips but his injury prevented him blowing on it. Another arrow followed the previous one and this time stuck in the man's chest and he fell to his knees. Yet he still tried to blow the whistle. When it seemed that finally, somehow, he had managed to get some air in his lungs and was about to blow the whistle, a third arrow dug a few fingers to the left of the previous one, and the man died moments later.

  The group walked slowly into the room with Samar leading. She wore her bow ready for a fourth shot, but soon saw that it was not necessary. Erion was never so glad to see the elf firing. Ithelas and the archer moved the body that was lying in the doorway slightly. After supporting him against a wall, they closed the door and stood beside her with their weapons ready. Mithir joined them shortly thereafter. Thost approached the big gate where Erion was, guarding his back.

  By gestures, the young man told them to stand still for a moment. Erion moved to the lock and, indeed, saw, with some difficulty, what was on the other side. It wasn't the entrance of the castle. Across he saw a large courtyard surrounded by stone walls.
Clearly the light indicated that it was uncovered; it should be the inner courtyard of the castle. A large front hall ran through, also uncovered, by which carts with goods could have circulated and that led to an even bigger gate. The gate was open but it had a trellis, which they called portcullis, blocking the passage to the outside. Several soldiers watched over both sides of the rake. None seemed to have noticed what had happened. Samar's speed and accuracy had saved them.

  Erion heard the sounds of some animals. To his right he heard the neighing of a horse and to the left, to his surprise, he thought he heard the sounds of various farm animals. He was sure, at least, that he heard the mooing of a cow. He heard in the background the incessant cackling of chickens. Two soldiers came in, suddenly, in his narrow field of vision. They seemed to be sweeping the yard, on patrol, from one extreme to another. They were well equipped, like the ones they had seen outside. They wore armor plates, wide shield, long sword in their belts, and a halberd in their right hand. He had also seen some equipped with longbows.

  Given his experience in illegal incursions, Erion knew that the time factor was crucial. Although the recognizing that he had just made did not take him more than a few seconds, he had obtained enough information. The young man left the door and asked Thost, with a gesture, to follow him. They met with the rest of the group.

  “Please gather the corpse,” Erion said quietly. “Take him to one of the bedrooms that we just passed,” he requested.

  “You've heard; hurry up and do it quietly,” Thost said.

  “Yes please; here we are very exposed,” Erion reasoned.

  They went to the first of the bedrooms that was not in use and placed the man in a corner. Erion quickly explained what he had learned. After he thanked Samar for guarding him so successfully. They all complemented Erion for his ability of gliding silently and opening doors. It was obvious that this had created some additional questions in the group, but it wasn't a propitious moment to investigate details of how and when the young man had acquired those skills.

  “The castle garrison is larger than we had thought then,” Thost said.

  “Possibly. Between the outer perimeter guard, the one guarding the parapet, those who defend the two drawbridges and the ones I just saw guarding the entrance and courtyard, there must be more than thirty men. They all have high-quality equipment, and I guess they will be well trained in combat,” Erion said.

  “It was almost a miracle that we got in without alerting them,” Ithelas said.

  “It was Erion and his amulet,” Mithir gestured.

  Samar reflected on the comment of the magician. Thanks to the amulet, they could climb the only place that was lightly covered in the view from the battlements; they could do it at the right time when the perimeter guard walked away from that place. Besides, they also knew where the skylight was, the only entry point that was not well guarded.

  All this was the key, but it wasn't enough. Only thanks to Thost's enormous force, enhanced by Ithelas' magic, they could break the entrance gate, and they did so just in time. And again Ithelas' magic allowed repositioning the fence, so that the perimeter soldiers didn't know about the forced entry. Samar snorted. Now that she thought about it, it was almost a miracle to have entered that way. However, she sensed that the hardest part was still to come.

  “So ... now, what do we do?” the elf asked.

  “Until now we've had the upper hand because Erion could inform us of the layout of the exterior of the castle. But we know nothing of the interior, and in the second room we walked into, that weird man almost set off the alarm. It would be over. We have nothing to do against so many soldiers,” Thost reasoned.

  “I think it's time,” Mithir said to the cleric with gestures.

  Ithelas could not help but shudder. When they had made plans before the assault, the cleric had realized that Mithir’s idea was possibly the best option they had. But now they had to execute it, which would be downright uncomfortable. Everyone looked closely at the body of the strange man. He was tall and thin. His face was extremely pale, even when he was alive. His eye sockets were very marked. The face looked almost emaciated. He wore a long brown robe woven with high quality wool and was barefoot. He had large hands with long, thin fingers and in each one wore a large gold ring. It was difficult to determine what the occupation of the man was, but they agreed that, probably, he was a high ranked servant in the organization of the lord of the castle. This made him an ideal candidate.

  Ithelas crouched beside him. His knowledge of anatomy allowed seeing that the vocal cords had remained intact. Carefully he removed the arrow in his throat that was blocking, to some extent, the passage of air from the lungs. Then he applied a couple of patches over the holes on both sides of the neck, to prevent air leakage from them. The young cleric then began a chant that indicated, as always, the execution of a spell. The duration of the prayer, which Ithelas murmured almost in whispers, and the various complicated gestures he made, seemed to indicate that it was a spell much more elaborate than usual.

  Suddenly the dead man opened his eyes slightly. His gaze was lost in the infinite. His eyes lacked any luster or expression. Ithelas then turned to the dead and began to speak.

  “Where is the treasure hidden?” he asked.

  “Downstairs. South Wing,” the body pronounced with difficulty.

  His voice sounded hoarse, from beyond the grave. It lacked any inflection or expressiveness. It was the strangest and scariest voice they had ever heard.

  “How can we access that area?” the cleric asked again.

  “Stairs. Laboratory. Hidden door. Library.”

  The cadence of the throat of the dead seemed to not fully complete any of the words, but everyone could understand the five he had just pronounced.

  “Where is the crypt where the vampire lies?”

  “Downstairs,” the corpse said, which a moment later closed his eyes and went back to lie “lifeless” again.

  CHAPTER 7: THE LABORATORY