The blade glimmered near the fire. It was aimed toward a dark figure. The figure flashed a smile and dived, with two daggers ready.
Shandor swung his blade defensively, knocking out one of the daggers. The attacker moved past the young elf as Shandor flipped through the air, bringing a foot down on the attacker's head. The attacker smashed into the floor with a grunt. His other dagger rattled along the stone floor. Shandor grabbed the attacker and flipped him over to see his face. The attacker's face had several scares, some from his chin to his forehead. The figure awoke and grinned, revealing a row of golden teeth, covered in his own blood. Shandor slammed one foot onto the attacker's hand, which was reaching for a discarded dagger. 'Now,' Shandor said coldly, pointing his blade at the human's throat, 'You are going to help me.'
The attacker gave a chortle.
Shandor pressed the blade against the attacker's
throat, but without enough force to cut. 'You are going
to help me or they will be finding bits of your body for
weeks.'
The attacker stopped, 'I, ah, see your point.'
'Good. As you know, the orcs are heading towards this village,' The attack nodded slightly, 'And the town's only method of defensive is-'
'The magic tower, I know.'
'Ah, so you keep on the ball then. The tower's core component was stolen, without it, they stand no chance, you stole it, didn't you?'
'Me sir? No sir.'
'Then who?'
'I don't think you need to worry about that.'
Shandor pushed the blade with more force. 'Okay, I
give! I don't like torture. The 'component' as you call
it was stolen by a group called-' The attack gave a
painful gurgle and slumped backwards, dead. A
crossbow-bolt was protruding from his throat. Shandor
leapt away from the body as a second bolt shot past him.
Shandor rolled on the floor and onto his feet. He scanned
the darkness beyond the fire's light, but saw nothing. He
closed his eyes. Sounds suddenly amplified, due to a
spell of Higher Senses he had cast on himself a few hours
earlier. A boot scraped against the rock floor. The
crossbow-string twanged a bolt left the 'bow. Shandor
swung an arm up instinctively. He opened his eyes to see
a bolt a few inches from his head, being held by his
hand. He flung the bolt away as he charged forward,
hopefully away from the crossbow wielder. He was in a
cavernous room, used for balls and grand dinners,
however, the room was set up for neither and only one
fire provided a sphere of light for the elf and his
unseen attacker. A bolt whizzed over his shoulder. He was
in nearly pitch black conditions. He slammed into
something. Painfully, he fell backwards to the stone
floor. He had ran straight into the door out. He reached
up and tore open the door before charging up a set of
narrow, twisting stairs. He reached the top and ran
headlong into a robed guard. The two of them tumbled to
the floor. Shandor leapt to his feet and helped the guard
up. Dusting himself of the guard said, 'Ah, mister...
Shandor is it?' Shandor nodded, 'Any news?'
'Other than I've been attacked by two goons downstairs,
no. One of them had nearly revealed who had stolen it
when he was killed by the other. However, he did reveal
it was a group doing this, not a sole thief.' Shandor
reported.
'I see...' He turned to a couple of guards walking away,
he barked a few orders and the guards charged down the
stairs to the room below. He turned back to Shandor, 'I
cannot say that this is good news, if it was a group,
they could have the resources to move It far away very
quickly.'
'Perhaps they were working with the orcs, strange how
they would choose to attack the day It gets stolen.'
'I doubt it, the orcs have fought with us for hundreds of
years, we were always protected by that Tower... now what
can we do?'
'Don't worry, Hiaen, I will find It and return It to the
Tower.'
'Thank you, my friend. Now, I believe someone was looking
for you in the Flock Of Feathers tavern, off you trot.'
Shandor nodded and walked off. Hiaen sighed, his old eyes
filled with sorrow and sadness.
Shandor entered the Flock Of Feathers tavern a few
minutes later, he didn't particularly like the name, he
thought he could churn out at least five better ones. He
looked about the room, it was not spectacular, several
small tables and chairs, a couch on one side, the bar
took up one side of the room. A set of narrow, noisy,
stairs led up to some rooms. A roaring fireplace filled
the air with warmth and the smell of burning wood and
peat. The place was filled with only a few regular
patrons. Shandor crossed to the bar. The bar keep, a
tall, plump man with dark green eyes and coal-black hair,
was cleaning a few glasses. 'Hail, I will have a dwarven
ale please.' Shandor said taking out some elven money.
The bar keep shook his head, 'No need to pay Shandor, you
know that by now. I'll get your ale. By the way, there
was an elf looking for you, dunno where he went.'
Unlike most bar keeps, this one had no descriptive
abilities relating to people or places, he referred to
the Tower that towered over the town as 'that big thing
over there' Shandor remembered with a smile. The bar keep
put down a mug of strong smelling ale. Shandor took a
sip. He convulsed inside, just how he had remembered the
ale of the dwarves. He nearly cursed Thor's name for
introducing him to it every time he had a mug or two.
'Should have known you couldn't leave that dwarven ale
alone Shandor.' A voice called from the bottom of the
steps.
Shandor looked towards the sound. Before him was an elf,
tall, thin, he had light-blue eyes and chestnut hair.
'Faelnon!' Shandor shouted happily.
Faelnon nodded. 'It is I.' Faelnon added with a grin,
'Now, just what trouble have you gotten yourself into?'
The two moved over to a table to discuss the 'trouble'.
The next morning Shandor left to explore the town a
little. Faelnon had disappeared towards the Tower, to
gather clues. The air was warm, the ground dusty and the
sun blazed in the sky, with no sign of a cloud nearby.
The town was quite small, one main road led through it,
either side were shops of various nature, a few houses
could be seen dotted in the countryside, and a few more
in-town. The only unique feature was a one-hundred foot
tower, built out of a white rock unknown to Shandor, it
was very strong, however. Atop the tower was a crystal
the size of two trolls, seemingly floating there. Shandor
remembered what he had been told about it. The Tower
housed twenty mages, of an order Shandor couldn't
pronounce, they channeled their magical energies into the
crystal through a series of other magical items. The
crystal would then be able to cast beams of energy,
causing searing pain and death to any caught in its path.
However, this beam only harmed Orcs. For Orcs had been
attacking this town for hundreds of years. Nearly a
millennia ago a mighty wizard, who's name has been lost
to time, came with his brother in a trading caravan.
While there the wizard was attacked by a group of Orcs.
The town was nearly destroyed, he survived but his
brother was killed by an honor-less Orc. He vowed that he
would protect the town and so he created the Tower, for
fifty years he toiled over it before passing the
responsibility on to another from that bred an order
created for the sole purpose of using that Tower.
Now, the Tower was in trouble and the Orcs look set to
destroy the town completely. One of the vital components,
one of the magical items, was stolen by 'a group', the
only information Shandor could get out of his attacker.
The other attacker, who had slain the first, had escaped
the guards using methods unknown. Shandor arrived at the
Tower. He whistled in awe. He pulled open the sole,
small, wooden door which served as entry. He stepped into
the dark room, illuminated weakly by a sole candle.
Nothing was on the ground, too easy to be damaged or
stolen, Shandor had been told. He climbed a short set of
stairs to the next floor. This floor was brighter, but
that was solely due to a blue glow given off by an object
floating in some sort of barrier. 'Ah Shandor,' A voice
called. Did everyone know his name? How could he do
undercover work with people screeching his name every few
minutes. He turned to the voice. A tall figure emerged
from the shadows, 'This is the Oieasdth it heals us of
fatigue and extends our magical powers for a brief
period.'
Shandor nodded and continued up to the next floor, this
floor was brighter than the last two due to a glass-less
window. Shandor stepped in front of the sunlight, letting
it warm his hands and face. 'Please move!' A voice
shouted. Shandor jumped out of the way. 'Thank you.' The
voice said, it was not the one from below, but another
figure leaning against a wall. 'The sunlight hits this
object and gives it power, which is sent upwards, making
our job easier.'
Shandor nodded while looked at a metal construct of some
kind, it appeared to be copper. From its top a narrow
beam of yellow light shot up and seemingly went straight
through the floor.
Shandor continued up through the Tower for several
minutes, listening to the description of each item. At
last he reached the floor directly beneath the crystal.
This floor was much taller, sunlight glittered through
the crystal, scattering the light randomly. The floor was
empty, save another robed figure. 'It is you, yes, I
suppose you had to come.' The figure said wearily, 'As
you know an item was stolen from us, and it was meant to
be here.'
Shandor looked at the spot the figure pointed to with a
sole, white, long finger. 'Couldn't you, I don't know,
somehow by-pass that item?'
'Ah, you are a smart one... yes, that was our plan when
we first discovered it was missed. But this item was not
like the others, which could be by-passed, this one
combines them all and focuses them into the crystal.
Without it all this,' He waved his arms around, 'Is
useless! Whoever broke into here knew exactly what to go
for.'
'So who do you suspect?' Shandor asked.
The figure crouched over and shuffled towards Shandor, 'I
would never say this normally, but perhaps it could be
one of the members.'
Shandor, noting how much it took for the figure to state
that, asked, 'Who would do such a thing, possibly
forsaking his or her town?'
The figure looked Shandor in the eyes with his dark blue,
worried eyes, his face was pale, 'I think it was the
newest member, he came from a far of place, called
Tildruin. Normally we only let people of the town enter
our Order, but this youth was the mayor's son, sent
abroad to learn. So, we had to let him in. But I'm sure
he's had a shady past, he's the kind of person you
wouldn't expose your back to.'
Shandor nodded and thanked the figure. He turned to leave
when the figure said, 'I do have an idea.'
Shandor spun round.
'Yes, well, this idea is I keep an eye on that youth,
document his whereabouts and the like.'
'That might be a wise idea.' Shandor said.
'Name's Jascal.' Jascal said, bowing.
'Shandor, even though you know that already.' Shandor
said, looking foolish. Without another word he left the
Tower.
DISCLAIMER: This part does contain somewhat... gory
details, if this makes you feel unpleasant, please skip
the part indicated by the ~'s.
Shandor left the tower and looked up at the morning sky.
'Stop day-dreaming!' A voice barked. Shandor waved his
hand, 'What do you want Faelnon?'
Another voice, very different answered, 'Assuming is not
always the wisest course young Shandor.'
This second voice caused Shandor to snap to attention.
Before him was a figure clad in black robes. His face was
battered, wrinkled and old. A staff extended from his
hand like it was a part of his body. Shandor bowed,
'Shailejron, it is always a pleasure.'
Shailejron the Nanjarii tilted his head in a slight nod.
'I see you are up to solving mysteries, as ever.'
Faelnon chuckled softly. Shandor could only nod.
Shailejron's weary features formed into a smile, 'Well,
good luck, I am merely passing through this way to
Tildruin.' Shailejron moved forward and patted Shandor on
the shoulder once. As he walked off he said, 'Very
impressive Tower, it's a shame the youth doesn't
appreciate it, nor value its true depth.' Shailejron
smiled again as he wondered off, with no horse to ride.
As the Nanjarii disappeared Faelnon stepped up, level
with Shandor, 'So, that was... interesting.'
'How so?' Shandor asked.
Faelnon tapped Shandor's head playfully, 'Surely you
realise what he meant, your head hasn’t been hit
*that* hard.’
‘Oh, of course I know what he meant.’ Shandor
said, folding his arms.
‘You have no idea, do you?’
‘None at all.’
‘I thought so.’
‘It was rather obvious.’
‘Indeed. Well, what Shailejron meant was that we
should investigate the youthful people of this town.’
‘Really? Interesting view on it.’ Shandor said.
Faelnon laughed and wondered off to a nearby shop, to
learn the names of the local youth.
Two days passed, they learnt nothing, but with each hour
the orcs drew closer. Shandor returned the Tower, as he
had done so often. ‘Shandor!’ A hushed voice
called. Shandor spotted Jascal, who hushed him up to the
top floor.
Once they reached the highest level Jascal slammed the
trap door shut, ‘I know it is that youth, Deatlan,
who did it, I heard him speaking Orc through a window
last night.’
‘Then I will confront him at once!’ Shandor
shouted. Before Jascal could do anything Shandor had ran
down a few floors and found Deatlan. Shandor grabbed the
human by both shoulders and charged him into a wall,
‘I know you are helping the Orcs. Help yourself and
tell me where the component is.’
‘Please! I don’t know anything!’ The human
squeaked.
Shandor slammed him against the wall a second time,
‘That was not the answer I was looking for.’
‘Okay, okay, I know where the Orcs will be going,
through the valley of Laeminth, if you don’t believe
me, I’ll scout it out with you. But please, don’t
make me tell you any more! They will kill me!’
‘Who will?’ Shandor quizzed, seeing the pure
terror in his eyes.
‘Shandor.’ Jascal called, entering this floor.
Deatlan squeaked in terror, but otherwise remained
silent.
‘What did he tell you?’ Jascal asked.
‘Nothing, he doesn’t know anything. You were
wrong.’ Shandor replied in a monotone voice. He did
not know why he lied, he did not know if it would matter
in the events to come, but he did it anyway.
Shandor acquired a horse outside. It was sunset.
According to Deatlan the Orcs would be at the valley.
Shandor rode off on his own. His mind was locked on
finding the Orcs, his rational side seemed to be fading.
By midnight Shandor had reached the valley of Laeminth.
Shandor looked around, the valley was empty. Shandor
cursed himself. As he turned to leave drums beat in the
distance. Grand flags appeared in the distance. Thousands
of Orcs poured down into the valley. Chanting, marching
and beating drums. Shandor quickly ducked away. He
sighed, it was true, that was worse than if Deatlan had
lied to him, in some weird way, in his mind.
Shandor raced back to the town to warn Jascal that it was
Deatlan and to warn the rest of the town. He charged to
the Tower, two of the members of the Order were standing
either side of the door. ‘Can’t let you pass
sir.’ One said.
‘Why not?’ Shandor barked.
‘Orders from Jascal, to protect the Tower.’ The
guard snapped back in a militarily fashion.
Shandor, impatiently, shoved the guards out of the way.
He pushed the door open and closed it quickly. A stench
of something Shandor didn’t want to recognize filled
his nostrils. The components were ‘powered down’,
causing the floors to be very dark. Shandor climbed the
stairs up each floor, but there was nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, he reached the stairs up to the top floor. He pushed on the closed trap door, it did not budge. Shandor pushed against it, no use. Running out of what very little patience he had, Shandor cast a spell, the trapdoor swung open. He climbed up. The stench was even more profound in that room. It was darker than the others. Shandor muttered something and an orb of light appeared. What he saw caused his stomach to churn. His legs felt weak. His face paled and his eyes widened in horror and disgust. A figure was hanging, by the neck, from the hovering crystal above. He was stripped to his pantaloons. His chest, neck and face where cut with light and deep cuts. His arms were burnt. His eyes were completely white. His teeth were missing, as was his tongue. Shandor felt light headed. From a string was sown from his upper lip, on the string was a small piece of bloody parchment that read, ‘”It is better to be thought of a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt” He should have learnt that. You listened too, pity you were not round.’ It was then Shandor noticed that the person’s ears were missing. His face was locked, his mouth agape, in his final pain-filled moment. It was Deatlan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They returned, like Shandor, but managed to call for
others to help. Faelnon appeared and begin creating
potions to help cure there nausea and dizziness. The
image of that corpse was burnt into his memory.
As morning broke the town was tinged with sorrow. The
mayor had collapsed after hearing the news of his son.
The best healers were trying to heal him, but it looked
grim.
Shandor was filled with questions, and disgust. Firstly,
who would do such a thing? That is, if it wasn't the
Orcs. Second, where was Jascal? He was meant to be in the
tower, but Shandor saw no sign. Now that he thought about
it, when Jascal had appeared yesterday, Dealtan had given
a squeak of seemingly terror. I must find Jascal Shandor
descided. He went back to the Tower. Flowers had been
lain all around it. The two door-guards, once more at
their posts, nodded and let Shandor past. The floorboards
beneath him creaked loudly as he went in. One elf was
working. Chanting. Shandor looked silently, not wanted to
disturb. 'It is alright.' The elf stated, stopping the
chanting and turning to face Shandor.
'What were you doing?' Shandor asked.
'I was praying that any spirits would leave this place in
peace and cross over.'
Shandor nodded again. To Elves the Spirits were very
important, like the Human's God, they believed the
Spirits looked after them. 'Have you seen Jascal?'
Shandor questioned.
'Nay, I have not. I fear he was captured by the Orcs that
did this.' The Elf stated. Their was a sound below. Both
Elves looked at the floorboard. Neither had moved, but a
creak had come. 'I fear this is Dealtan's spirit.' The
Elf sighed.
Shandor returned his gaze to the Elf, before noting that
it was brighter than he thought it would be. He looked
up, to see four wooden beams going in an 'X' pattern to
the walls. At the center was the 'channelling device'
that harnessed the sun's energy. 'What happened to the
floorboards there?'
'Ah, we took them out. Whatever occoured here has rotted
most of the wood, that was the only floor to collapse. I
do not know what would do that.'
'Is the... the...'
'Corpse up there? No, poor Dealtan's mortal remains have
been moved to the Mayor's house, as per request, to be
buried in their own way.'
'Thank you for your time.' Shandor finished. He climbed
the stairs up to the now-destroyed second floor. A sole
plank went across to the steps up to the third floor.
Just as the Elf began the chanting again, Shandor swore
he had heard a metalic click below.
Soon, Shandor had returned to the grusome scene. The body
had been removed, but the blood remained. In daylight he
could see it better. On the walls elven symbols had been
drawn, however what they spelt made no sense with 'words'
like 'Qpkx' when translated into common. Shandor was able
to pronouce them, but decided not to. A door slammed down
below. The chanting Elf had ended and left. Shandor
returned his attention to the symbols. He had no idea
what they meant, or were meant to mean beyond their more
literal form. He stepped towards them. The rotting floor
beneath him groaned and broke. Shandor only had time to
wave his hands into the air as he disappeared. The force
of impact on the next floor caused that section of the
floor, too, to collapse.
In less than ten seconds, agonising and painful seconds,
Shandor had crashed to the third floor. He was pinned to
it via a long, sharp piece of wood that had pierced his
shoulder. He gave out a holler. It was useless. Some
magic had been used during its first construction that
prevented sound from escaping. More wood fell towards
Shandor. He gave another cry as it crashed into his face
and legs. completely covering his legs, preventing any
movement. The third floor, now heavily over burdened,
gave up and collapsed. At least the 'ride' stops here.
Shandor thought remembering the second floor wasn't there
and he would crash to the ground and stop. He fell again
and instead of being fortunate and avoiding the beams he
crashed into one, Typical He thought. He smashed into the
ground floor. But he didn't stop. He was still falling,
this time into darkness. Am I knocked-out? No, I can
still hear myself thinking and feeling me falling. He
crashed into something that shattered like glass. As it
dashed past his face, cutting it, he made the guess that
it was glass. With one final thump he stopped moving. His
breathing was labored as he tried to work out where he
was. At least twenty meters up was the floor he had come
through. Above him were books, heavy anicent books, on
book shelves, as well as beside him on the floor. Luckily
this floor had dislodged the wood trapping his feet. He
reached up and tore the wood out of his shoulder. He
gritted his teeth, but still let a moan of pain out.
Soon he was on his feet. As he looked up he heard a
metalic rattle. He spun round to see a gagged Jascal
chained against the wall. One of the chains on his arms
had been destroyed, it was still red and steaming. Jascal
looked at Shandor with desperate eyes.