It was late at night when Brother Anthony and Brother Michael walked back from the library to their monastery rooms. They had taken the occasion between festivals and ceremonies to enjoy a bit of light reading. The Ha'Sadil of the great ancient philosopher Dai'Karte had proven most challenging to their views, and as they read the passages to each other, they debated the implications of the words.
As usual, the debates raged long into the night before they knew it. Facing a sunrise service first thing in the morning, they forced themselves to retire to their rooms. It was a cold night, and wrapped soundly in their thick layers of robes and cloaks, they walked the darkened streets swiftly.
The walk from the library down by the lake to their dormitory high up on the hill was a long one. As they walked, they found their conversation drifting toward their home of Oswegonia. They had traveled to Crystal Meir several years before to take up their studies, but they still considered the city they hoped to return to some day as home. That was, until recently.
"With the thief, Raygan, running the city; who knows what we'll find once our studies are done," Brother Anthony worried.
"There may be no faithful followers of 'The One' for us to spread the teachings to!" Brother Michael agreed.
"We'll certainly have our work cut out for us."
"That's for sure. I wonder how King Lonnequist was forced to give up his rule. It's hard to see anyone, especially like Raygan, gaining enough allies to assist him in his coupe."
"Not with the King's Guard in place. Do you think the rumors could be true?"
"There's no reason for Lonnequist to be so foolish as to send the guards out of the city like that. If that was the reason for his demise, then a foolish loss it was."
"Not that the city ever felt that safe under the protection of the Guard. But at least we always had the hope that they were more efficient than they seemed."
"Perhaps our faith in LaBairne's wisdom was misplaced. Otherwise, he'd been smart enough to not leave the city unprotected, King's orders or not."
"Sadly enough, dear Brother, many good people have been betrayed by that folly."
"But when the dust clears, and all is settled, we'll return and begin the slow process of recovery. The glory of 'The One' be with us," Brother Michael prayed.
"He won't let his people down," Brother Anthony confirmed.
Suddenly a great weight fell down upon them, knocking both sturdy priests to the ground. Lost in the folds of his many robes, Brother Michael scrambled to his feet. The sight of his comrade's head rolling past him greeted his efforts.
The young acolyte stuttered in horror. From somewhere above, an armored man had dropped to the ground, and using the sharpened end of his gleaming sword to lead the way, had cleanly cleft the head off his unaware friend. Showing no effects from the long fall, the man stood to face Brother Michael.
As two more men silently dropped down behind the first, the priest detected the foul stench of rotting flesh. "Zombies!" flashed in his head, and he wrestled with his own nervousness to pull his holy symbol out to protect him. The silver carved ornament reflected in the flickering street lamps, and even as it began to glow with Michael's continuing prayers, it had no effect on the attackers. He knew that priests, albeit greater in their learning than he, had been able to turn these wretched creatures away from men of good. But his faith waned as they continued their mocking advance. He closed his eyes in concentration, though he knew it wouldn't do any good. The light faded quickly from his holy symbol.
Surrounded by the instruments of evil, Brother Michael huddled in the darkness. "May 'The One' protect my soul," he cried his last, as the bronze armored horrors fell upon him in a frenzied, ruthless attack. The red lights of hatred burned brightly in their eyes. They sheathed their terrible swords, and lingered in the savagery of the kill. They tore into the soft skin of the man before them, loosening their hatred upon this living creature. They dug into his flesh with sharp, long nails, burying their digits the full depth of their fingers, raking across the young man's body with delight. As sharp as any blade, they left wide furrows where life had been before.
Back in the sanctuary of his private quarters, hidden in Rai'dley's castle high above the quiet city of Crystal Meir, LaBairne drank deep the deaths of the young priests. How dare they speak so against him and the Guard? They didn't know, LaBairne thought to himself. How could these young neophytes begin to understand what they had gone through; what he had endured. These deaths sated his appetite for now, but there would be more. Many more.
As silently as they had emerged from the old, abandoned basement, the three dead warriors returned to their hiding. The entrance to the long-forgotten tunnels had been sealed off for centuries. The rusted nails and rotting wood gave little resistance to the strength of the three undead men. They had passed through that meager covering on the way out, but only after forcing aside large stone blocks that had been placed there to seal in what had crawled into this hole so long ago. Against the combined strength of the three zombies, the stone slabs were nothing but an annoyance. Under LaBairne's distant directions, they didn't even replace them upon their retreat. LaBairne knew they would be coming this way again.
Sunrise at Crystal Meir was marked by the ringing of bells and chimes in every church steeple, calling the faithful to the first of many daily services offered. While every bell carried a different tone, some how, with all those bells going off at the same time, they didn't conflict with each other. Each bell added its own part to a wondrous symphony. Such was always the way with the myriad of religions found in Crystal Meir.
Dak'gnu sat bolt upright at the pealing of the first bell, which was close to the inn. He quickly moved from startled to amused, as he remembered his surroundings. "Old habits," he explained with a grin. Ace and Gerrod had been awake for a short while, and were equally amused by his antics. By the two swiftly drawn weapons, they were both glad just the same to not have been the one to wake him. He carefully replaced his trusted blades, and rubbed the bright light from his eyes. In the past week, he had pushed himself to withstand more and more of the burning light. He knew that he might have to face Rai'dley in the light of day. He was determined to not have his heritage be a weakness to him. He couldn't afford such a weakness if he was going to make good on his vengeance.
His accent, though severe at first, had quickly disappeared. He picked up the nuances of the modern elvish language easily, and the differences from his more ancient form of the tongue. He listened carefully to the members of Wefpub, and paid close attention to their diction. This way, he even began to recognize a few phrases of the common tongue of the Lands. Dak'gnu was very adaptable, and full of surprises, as they continued to discover.
They ordered their morn-meal in, and while they waited for it to be delivered to their room, they confirmed that Allison and Amanda had gone to the sunrise services. Corinna had gone with them, and they planned to meet with the high priest's council immediately after. Normally there would be a backlog of bureaucratic paperwork that would have to be done first, but Amanda assured them she could get right in, even without an appointment.
Given the fine quality of the comfortable rooms, Ace was surprised by the slow service of the morn-meal. When it finally arrived, a charming young elven girl delivered it. She was full of apologies. Her long golden hair was braided and coiled upon her head. Green eyes sparkled like spring buds, and her wide, toothy smile glowed brightly. It was impossible to feel any poor-ill against her. "Much apologies, please," she begged in a pleasant, lilting voice that chimed like the soft bells that had long ago subsided. "I'm afraid to report that two men have been murdered not far away, and everyone is in a buzz about it."
"A murder, so you say?" Ace asked, curiosity peaked.
"Uh, yes, sir, truly," she begged as if Ace hadn't believed her.
"Please, tell us what you can of it," Gerrod asked. He had a softer manner than Ace was capable of, and he knew the he
avy-handed dwarf was bound to intimidate the poor girl if he continued with his interrogation.
"I'm afraid I don't know much to tell. They were two young acolytes from the Church of The One. It was said they looked to be walking back home last night when they were savagely attacked. The head of one was cut clean off, while the other suffered many even cruder wounds. It looked like a giant cat had gotten him, judging by the deep claw wounds he suffered." She shuddered at the image in her head. "I didn't see it myself, thank goodness, but I've heard from a number of different people. They all tell of the senseless savagery."
"A murder right here in the city of Crystal Meir; who would have thought? Thank you, Miss," Gerrod smiled warmly. "You have been very kind to take this time with us, I assure you." Gerrod pressed a large tip in the palm of her hand for her troubles.
Her smile beamed even brighter. "I assure you, gentlemen, Crystal Meir is usually a very quiet and peaceful place. I'm sure justice will be done." She nodded to excuse herself, and made for the door. She stopped at the entrance and turned to Gerrod. "My name is Breanna. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
"We will, thanks again," Gerrod assured her with a wink.
It didn't take long for Ace and Gerrod to decide to go check the situation out. Dak'gnu joined them, huddling deep in the folds of his cloak. He hid as much from the crowds of people as he did from the sun. Too many people would question his dark skin. Tales of the dark elves were well known, and his appearance in the midst of this Transgression may not bode well with superstitious folk.
The effects of the devastation, while visible last night, were made clearer in the light of day. People camped out in the streets, buildings were boarded up for safety and security, and the wreckage of civilization was everywhere. But mostly, it was reflected in the faces of the once proud people. So devout to their gods, the people of Crystal Meir couldn't begin to understand the punishment the gods had seemingly thrashed their faithful followers with. Crystal Meir, resting securely in the might of the glory of the gods, had always considered themselves the favored ones. Now, this.
They found the scene of the crime just as the girl had described it. By the time they had finished their morn-meal and found the location, ropes had been set up to protect the area and keep people away from the bodies. They studied the area the best they could, given the restrictions.
After a few moment's study, Dak'gnu pointed out a series of claw marks dug right into the stone of the wall nearest the beheaded victim. Gerrod knew those weren't the marks of a climbing cat.
They circled around the back alleys until they came out on the far side of the protected area, and Gerrod studied the ground for signs of a trail. The heavy blanket of snow, blown into the recessed corners of the back alley, left a clear and obvious track.
The alley was dark, even in the middle of the day. Towering buildings sheltered it on either side. The tracks led them to an old warehouse at the end of the alley. The building showed signs that it was long abandoned and in serious disrepair. It sat back from the street in a quiet part of town, and so it drew little attention.
By the crumbling masonry and rotting wooden window and doorframes, the old warehouse looked ready to collapse under the weight of time. Ace inspected the doorway, but was hesitant to enter the darkness within. Dak'gnu peered inside, his powerful night vision adjusting quickly. He reported no one inside, and urged the stodgy dwarf in.
They stepped inside the opened doorway, long since fallen off its hinges. Gerrod checked the rust on the hinges just to make sure. Once inside, they stood quietly in the dark a moment to bring their infravision into focus. The floor was covered in dirt and silt, the product of many years' flooding. Without a door to stop the heavy spring rains, and an unfavorable grade of the street, dirt was washed in like an uninvited guest. This muck was mixed with piles of dried leaves into plastered piles, blown neatly together by swirling breezes. Atop it all, a dusting of snow had blown in to cover the frozen reminders of warmer times so long ago.
But in that snow, there were tracks. It was an obvious trail, made by those who either didn't care, or didn't know to cover them up. The tracks were fresh and distinctly pressed. Gerrod ignited Flicker as a gentle torch, and followed the tracks carefully across the room. They traveled in a straight path, heavy boots with solid heels. There was no attempt to disguise them in the least. Gerrod moved slowly, ready for any traps that might await them. It seemed too easy.
The tracks ended under an old door that had been leaned up to cover a portal. It was a poor attempt to hide their escape. The hinges to this door had been recently destroyed, as shown by the newly torn metal. The door was short in stature, and as a back door, it indicated its original primary use by elves.
Searching the splintered door casing produced a few long bristles. They might have been the thick whiskers of a giant cat as Dak'gnu suggested, if not for their distinct red color. Ace and Gerrod looked at each other, sharing the same dreadful thought, "The King's Guard!"
They retraced their steps, marking the location of the warehouse before returning to the inn to relate these recent developments to the women.
"This might be easier than I had thought," Rai'dley mused as she looked out the window from her laboratory. From her high vantage point in the castle tower, she looked out over the devastated Lost Lands. Below her was a sea of black forms, a wriggling river of beasts that streamed toward her castle gates. Normally such an affront would have concerned her, but she knew that these were friendly forces coming in, and they would soon all be allies to her army.
The power of the Orb brought all manner of monster and foul beast to its call. The Orb of the Righteous had been used centuries before, when Rai'dley was but an apprentice. Her master, and fellow elves of "The Committee," used the Orb to create the ancestors of these beasts. It had been their goal to create an evil army of loyal followers to help them destroy the good races on Carrona. Known as the Great Elven Wars, it was an event that had molded the history of the four Lands forever. As demonstrated by this assembly of evil monsters that still walked the Lands, the repercussions had long-lasting, powerful effects.
The Orb of the Righteous had been hidden away all these years. The Council Four, a quartet of demi-gods, used the powers of the relic to control and balance the powers of good and evil in Carrona. When Rai'dley first returned to Carrona, she knew that she had to regain control of this relic. To control and master the Orb was to master all the powers of Carrona. Rai'dley knew that the Orb had the power to make her immortal. Rai'dley planned to become a goddess.
Now, Rai'dley's children returned to her: the children she helped to create centuries ago, the children of the Orb. "What a glorious sight, Algernon!" she chimed.
"Perhaps, Mistress. But what lot of good it will do you if you can't get this Orb to give you eternal powers. Have you forgotten you've only a couple more doses of elixir left? Without that elixir, you're history. No more body, no more power, no more anything."
"Yes, yes. Alright then. I know I can do this. We were so close, so long ago. Immortality was within our grasp. Then those foul good races drove us into exile. They destroyed our dragon-led armies. Those long-lived dragons were the closest to immortality we had gotten."
As if on cue, the air was filled with a terrific drone. Gusts of powerful wind blew into the open window, scattering papers and research everywhere. Rai'dley and Algernon scampered to recover the invaluable data. Rai'dley looked out the window to see a flight of a dozen giant dragons, of all colors, hovering outside. The most powerful members of the ancient evil army of terrible beasts had arrived.
From all across Carrona, they had been summoned out of their eternal slumbers. The power of the Orb called to them, reaching even beyond the realms of their sleep. They put aside their usual petty fighting amongst themselves for a common cause, the only one any of them ever could have: the Orb of the Righteous. r />
"We have come, Mistress," a giant red who led the pack bellowed into the wind.
"Then land and join us, dear friends. Your might is welcome, your powers are needed," Rai'dley invited, smiling beside herself. A million dreams, plans, and schemes flashed through her wicked mind. "This could be wondrous," she thought to herself.
Algernon waited until the last of the flight of dragons landed a safe distance away, and the winds had died down, before he came up to whisper in his Mistress's ear at close range. "Are you mad? This can't be a good thing!"
"What on earth are you talking about? This is the best news yet. Imagine the effect when the dragons of Carrona once again fly against the good people of this world! They will flee before the great armies of Rai'dley! Now, they have no choice but to succumb to me and my power."
"But with all due respect," Algernon continued to protest, "my brethren aren't like me. I'm as loyal to my Mistress as the day is long. My fellow draconian seek only power for themselves. They are greedy, and will never be able to serve you as I do. I beg of you, don't invite them into this scheme. They will only exploit your trust."
"Why Algernon!" Rai'dley came back playfully. "I do believe that you're jealous. Don't worry, my friend, you'll always be my closest of allies."
"But you don't understand!" he implored, "They're REALLY evil!"
Rai'dley looked at the dragon skeptically as if to see whether he was joking. "My darling, we're ALL evil -- that's what makes us such good friends!" When Algernon didn't seem to appreciate this, Rai'dley tried to soothe him more. She went to him and stroked his neck and flanks gently. "Why, Algernon! You're shaking! Perhaps you aren't jealous after all. You're frightened. Well don't worry, my pet," she kissed him gently on the tip of his snout, "Your Mistress will make sure those big old dragons don't hurt her precious little baby."
Algernon gave up trying to reason at that point, or rather gave into the sensual caresses of the woman. She stroked him under the chin, which forced his eyes to close tightly, and something akin to a cat's purr rolled up from deep within him. Rai'dley could always win any argument this way, and they both knew it.
Despite Algernon's wise counsel, within a few days, Rai'dley had prepared the flight of evil dragons for experimentation. She would never be satisfied with their own terrible, destructive nature. She endeavored to indoctrinate them into the ranks of the undead. Her work on the Orb for her own benefit, finding the key to granting her immortality, went aside in her mad quest to build this impossibly evil force.
Algernon tried to take care of her, reminded her of her deterioration, which was inevitable without further doses of the elixir, but she refused to listen. Without the regenerative properties of the elixir of preservation, the dead body she inhabited began to deteriorate as a normal rotting corpse. After a few days' time, she could no longer pass herself off as the beautiful, young mage Rai'dley; her true lich nature began to show through as the decaying flesh peeled off her frame.
As this process continued, it became more difficult for Rai'dley to consider going back to her former self. As her confidence and army grew, so did her acceptance of her existence as a lich, and she dropped the facade of that other beautiful being. The world of the living no longer concerned her; and this concerned Algernon. As a living creature, it was only a matter of time before he no longer interested her either.
Algernon began to question the wisdom of his continued loyalty.
Leaving saddened him more than he thought it would, and not just because he wouldn't be able to take everything he had set his eyes upon. He realized, that night he slipped out the castle balcony, that he had actually become attached to this elven female. For years Rai'dley had been a good companion to him; a trusted friend. He would miss her company, but then it would never be the same. Of course he took what he could carry, and a little bit more, but the lich would never miss it. He only hoped that, somehow, she would miss him.
Chapter 26
The Flight of Death