The Sage of Cent Fois
Having obtained a keen sense of smell Platov crept warily through the gloomy tunnels. He could also see in the dark as he rarely saw daylight. The cave where he was kept was always pitch black expect those parts illuminated with torches. He had learned to avoid the torches, for they meant that Wraith, the shadowy apparition of a ghost was about. Just turning twelve, Platov was held by the wicked wizard for the day when he might be useful for something. Wraith had never mentioned what that would be, not at least to Platov.
With long tangled light brown hair that hung over his hazel colored eyes, Platov had a narrow chin and a slight nose. His clothing was made of leather and the soles of his poorly fitting shoes were nearly worn through. Half-starved, he held his sword tightly and peeked around another corner in the labyrinth of passageways that kept him imprisoned. A sword against Wraith was futile, but the cave was filled with other creatures including a rather disagreeable dragon named Scorch. Sniffing the air, Platov disappeared into the obscurity of another tunnel. Creeping along slowly and utterly silently, he carefully made his way deep into the labyrinth. Wraith was preoccupied and would not be seen, but it was not the wicked wizard that Platov worried over.
He slipped across a large cavern and into another passageway heading toward a small hidden chamber. The last time he went this deeply into the labyrinth, he had discovered something. Having given the matter some consideration, Platov had decided that his discovery might be useful. The egg-shaped orb was also Wraith’s prisoner. Platov had schemed over how they might ally themselves for their mutual benefit, namely escape from the clutches of Wraith.
Platov used his fingers to feel the edge of the tunnel, his nose carefully detecting anything that lie in wait just ahead. The air was stagnant and hot this far down into the cave. Wicked creatures lurked and he had already become acquainted with a few of them. Exactly twenty-seven steps down into the passageway there was a slight break in the solid stone wall. Without a keen sense of touch that crevice would go unnoticed as the evenness of the walls was only faintly disturbed. Behind that break, a hidden chamber with the egg-shaped orb concealed inside.
Platov whispered words and with the help of one small charm that nobody knew he had, he opened the chamber and slipped inside. Closing the crevice behind him, he turned and stared at the orb glowing faintly with a dark red aura. He could see two large black elongated eyes inside the egg blink.
“Treachery,” the orb spoke.
“Speak nothing, for he will hear,” Platov replied in a whisper.
“Daring,” the orb said mockingly and quite unimpressed with his visitor.
Platov had no idea of what the orb’s purpose was, nor had it mentioned its name the last time he visited. The orb could see into the future of that Platov was convinced. A strange sense of greed had driven him to seek out the orb again.
“I will take you with me,” Platov whispered and glanced back at the crevice behind him nervously. He was smelling a worm.
Laughing rancorously at the foolish proposition being offered, the orb’s black eyes flashed.
“Quiet,” Platov cringed and glanced over his shoulder again.
“Do this,” the orb instructed. “Go to the lair of Scorch. Take the one gemstone he treasures most. It is labradorite. Bring it back and you will have the power to defeat Wraith.”
“Labradorite?” Platov asked in a low whisper.
“Many colors, sometimes green, sometimes blue,” the orb explained with annoyance. In a vision created by the orb, Platov saw what it was that he was looking for. He also saw that it was hidden under the dragon’s treasure of gold and jewels. Hex shaped, the stone glistened in the faint fiery glow of Scorch’s slumbering breath.
“Then I shall fetch it,” Platov declared. Perhaps he had not taken notice of the rather overweight dragon that was sleeping on the treasure.
“You shall make a tasty morsel for Scorch,” the orb laughed maliciously.
Platov slipped out of the tiny chamber sealing the secret door behind him. With the foul smell of a worm nearby, he made a quick choice of directions and dashed off the way he had come. The sound of gnashing teeth filled the tunnel behind him. The worm was coming and fast!
Platov dashed across the big cavern and into a passageway that he knew. Running hard, he reached another crevice. Jumping up and crawling into the shortcut, he climbed up through the rubble reaching another tunnel. Making haste, he rushed back to his tiny chamber and closed the door behind him. The worm would pass by shortly but would not be able to pry open the door with its nasty teeth.
Touching off a lightning ball with the tips of his fingers, Platov sat down on the hard stone floor and scratched out his plans. Illuminate by the lightning ball, Platov drew with the edge of a sharp stone. He had been to the dragon’s liar several times and knew the way. To reach the lair he would have to steal his way through the labyrinth while going up to the top of the mountain. The tunnels and caverns were all tangled together and subject to change. Creatures roamed the endless passageways while others lurked in murky places.
The problem was his own smell, for before he smelled the dragon, the dragon would smell him. Scorch would be waiting. Underfed, the foul green-speckled dragon with hypnotic lavender eyes would be hungry. Platov considered his plans. He had seen the colorful stone among the dragon’s treasure. All he had to do was reach in and snatch it away. But how to distract a dragon long enough to claim his own freedom?
Considering abandoning the nasty orb, Platov schemed. The dragon’s lair had a window to the outside world and Platov could just jump to freedom. But the orb captivated his interest as much as freedom beckoned. Imagining what the orb might know of the future, Platov was feeling strangely drawn to the possibilities. Their fates were now tangled together, but in what manner, Platov had no clue. Besides he could not escape from Wraith’s grip by merely running away.
Magically, Platov conjured a small, fury spider and sent him off to gather details of Wraith’s movements. Then bored with waiting, Platov conjured another spider with eight black fury legs and a red marking on its head just between its many eyes. He put the spider down on the floor and watched as the spider stared back. Then he conjured another spider just the same in every way. Sometimes he liked the brown and black spiders too.
“Will you take us with you?’ The first spider asked pensively.
Platov nodded and sat brooding as he considered his possibilities.
“What about the dragon?” Platov sought the advice of his council.
“Dragons are not easily tricked into leaving their treasure unguarded,” the second spider replied. Its many eyes blinked as it spoke in a scheming voice.
“A simple conjuring might work,” the first spider considered.
“How?” Platov asked.
“Trick him,” the first spider suggested.
“Outside his window,” the second conspired. “Dragons are greedy.”
“Then I could snatch the stone and make my way back to the orb,” Platov schemed.
“If you get caught the dragoon will devour you,” the first spider worried. “Or worse, Wraith will send you to the bottom of the labyrinth.”
“You know what awaits you there,” the second spider warned.
“I will not get caught,” Platov declared. Then with a snap of his fingers both spiders vanished. He waited now. Sometimes the wicked wizard faded away and was gone for hours. Hopeful of such an opportunity, Platov lay back on the hard stone floor watching his lightning ball drift around the ceiling.
Time passes slowly in a dank stone chamber. Laying back and watching the glowing lightning ball, Platov schemed. Then he heard the tiny footsteps of his spy returning.
“The master is faded,” the spider reported. Taking up a place near the wall under a small outcropping of stone, the spider’s many eyes blinked and stared.
“Then we go,” Platov said. But he did not make any move to lift himself up from the floor. Instead, he stared at the lightning bal
l considering one idea very carefully. With a snap of his finger, his spy vanished and Platov crept to the door. Sniffing the air carefully, he could tell the worm had been nearby, but now it was gone.
Chapter 3: To Deceive a Dragon