Treachery in the Kingdom Read online

  Chuckling, Nemral responds, “According to Amendal, we are making good time.”

  “What does that old codger know,” Tilthan grumbles under his breath and looks around but is startled by Dendra’s alluring voice behind him.

  “You are never content,” the former guardswoman states and comes up to Tilthan. She puts her hand on his shoulder and says, “It’s not attractive, now go get some food.”

  Turning to face Dendra, Tilthan snickers, “That’s not what you said the night we arrived at the Retreat–”

  In that same instant, Dendra slaps Tilthan across the face, completely interrupting him.

  “Get your food!” the former guardswoman barks, “Cornar wants you two to scout ahead immediately while we break the camp and send our things back to the White Duchess.”

  As Tilthan recovers from the slap, Nemral laughs hysterically and rises to his feet, walking back to the center of the camp and passing Nordal who is holding a steaming bowl in his hands.

  “You better get some before it gets cold,” the warrior chuckles and shovels a spoonful of hot soup into his mouth; a stew made from the wild game of the forest.

  “It’s not like it’s any good,” Tilthan gripes and rises to his feet and comes up to Nordal’s side. Looking up to the warrior he continues, “Nord, she’s a fickle one, consider yourself warned.”

  “I think you’re confusing her with yourself,” Nordal chuckles and moves toward the spot where Nemral was sitting and plops down next to Dendra.

  Shaking his head without a word, Tilthan follows Nemral into the middle of the camp where many of his companions are gathered; Amendal’s conjuration, Fench, is busily dipping a large ladle into a pot then dumping the stew into the bowls of the warriors and mages around him.

  “Tilthan,” Cornar calls out and motions for the thief to come near.

  Responding to the beckon, Tilthan drudgingly walks toward the leading warrior who further addresses him, “I think we’re getting close to the ruins.”

  “I just want to get close to Arbath,” the thief sarcastically retorts.

  “Listen,” the warrior sternly states and Tilthan aloofly glances to Cornar, “Just keep an eye out for anything that looks elven.

  “Now here’s a bowl,” the warrior quickly shoves a large wooden bowl into Tilthan’s chest and the thief reluctantly takes hold of it.

  * * * * *

  Several hours later, seventeen of the nineteen members of Iltar and Cornar’s expedition are traveling through the leafless forest; each of them are dressed in warm clothing, due to the chilling temperature of the woodland. The mood is very somber among the group; many of them sympathizing with Tilthan’s previously expressed opinion that morning.

  Suddenly, the whistling signal echoes from the trees in front of the party followed by Nemral’s excited voice.

  “Cornar! Come quick, you have to see this!”

  From the middle of the party, the aforementioned warrior pushes past the others and comes to Amendal’s side at the head of the expedition.

  “What did you find?” Cornar asks with an intrigued tone, “The ruins?”

  “No,” the thief says as he unveils himself from his concealing cloak, “It’s a pylon. Although, it looked very different from the ones we’ve seen on that dragon isle and Merdan.”

  In response to the thief’s report, many of the warriors let out excited cheers.

  Amid their cries, Cornar asks, “What do you mean different?”

  “It’s huge for one thing. But there was no road near it; Tilthan went to scout further ahead.”

  “Good,” the warrior nods his head and takes a deep breath, “Take us to it.”

  Nearly half an hour later, the party arrives in a raised partial clearing around the pylon mentioned by Nemral; the towering stone structure rises nearly thirty phineals in height and has four curved sides but is tilted toward the party’s right at an acute angle. At its top is an elaborate pointed crown of worn stonework which descends and lines the protruding corners where the sides meet. Upon the top portions of the pylon on each side are greenish-blue gems nearly the size of a man’s torso. The nearest of the gems is damaged, with nearly half of its top missing.

  “Incredible,” Kalder mutters as he stares up at the ancient elven monolith.

  “It’s huge!” Hemrin cries.

  “Hagen,” Cornar turns to face the illusionist, “Cast some dispelling magic, perhaps there is some magic hiding a roadway like on the Dragon’s Isle.”

  The short illusionist quickly steps across the slope leading to the pylon and once he reaches the old stone, he utters an incantation; white dispelling magic gathers in his hands and he quickly flings it toward the pylon.

  Each of the members of the expedition anxiously await as the magic seeps into the elven pillar; however, after a moment nothing happens.

  “What’s wrong grandmaster Hagen?” Hem calls out as he looks to his former mentor in the magical arts.

  Nilia and Aron chuckle at the younger illusionist’s query while several of the other warriors let out disappointed sighs.

  “There’s no magic,” Hagen sighs and plops on the ground. “The ruins could be anywhere…”

  “Look at the ground,” Cornar observes and walks around the pylon, carefully searching the mound. “The area around here seems to be more hilly than what we’ve traversed in the last few days.”

  “Do you think the road is buried beneath the trees?” Kalder asks as he steps close to the enormous pylon, further examining it.

  “It must be,” Cornar states as he stares through the dormant branches surrounding the pylon. “I don’t see another pylon.”

  “Why don’t we just climb this one?” Nordal asks as he comes to Kalder’s side. “It’s well above the canopy.”

  “Hagen, summon me some rope.”

  As the short illusionist regains his composure and complies with Nordal’s request, Cornar walks back toward the others.

  “Amendal,” the leading warrior calls out, “We need a higher vantage point; summon a hawk to see if you can find another one of those pylons.”

  Without a word, the old conjurer nods his head and steps away from the party, sitting against a tree and uttering an incantation.

  “Let’s rest here until we get our heading correct,” Cornar states then adds, “Dith, return to the White Duchess to fetch some food.

  With that said, Cornar turns around and moves back toward the pylon where Nordal is climbing a magically composed cord and has nearly ascended it halfway.

  An hour and a half later, Tilthan returns from his scouting and unveils himself from beneath his cloak, drudgingly whistling as he approaches the others camped around the pylon.

  “I couldn’t find another one of these things,” Tilthan swats his hand in a gesture toward the towering monolith.

  “Neither did we,” Nordal says from near the pylon, “I climbed to the top and couldn’t see any others.”

  Clearing his throat, Ordreth speaks up from the center of the expedition, “Maybe they were destroyed. Do you remember some of those pylons in Merda were broken apart. If this Melar was part of the dragon wars then it would make sense that not many of them are intact or standing.

  “This one is tilting and looks badly damaged; it’s probably one of the lucky few.”

  “Ordreth has a point,” Hex states, “We need to search for debris or broken pylons.”

  “We’ll search in a fanning pattern,” Cornar says as he pushes himself up from against the trunk of a tree. “Let’s divide into pairs of two and search in north to southeast directions. Pick a partner and a direction.”

  Later that evening, Ordreth and Sharon are the last to return to their camp at the base of the leaning elven monolith.

  A cheery signaling whistle leaves the young warrior’s lips as he and his lover approach the others.

  “Uncle!” Ordreth shouts, “Sharon found the base of a pylon. It’s surface was barely sticking out of the ground.”

 
; “How far away is it?” Cornar asks as he leaves the others who are huddled around a fire and eating a stew similar to the one they had consumed in the morning.

  “Maybe eight or nine G.P.” Sharon responds and takes a deep breath, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s directly east of here. The ground is more hilly the further we went. Perhaps the other pylons are buried, or at least the bases of them.”

  “You did well,” the leading warrior smiles then walks back to the others around the fire, with his nephew and the female thief in tow.

  “We’ll leave at dawn,” Cornar states in a commanding tone. “Ordreth and Sharon will lead the way.”

  After nine days of traveling from pylon to pylon, the party makes camp at another broken pylon, rising eight phineals above the forest floor. While the warriors and mages set up their tents, Nemral and Sharon leave to briefly scout ahead.

  Nearly an hour later, the thieves return and hastily unveil themselves as they come into the camp, whistling as they dart past the tents.

  “Cornar!” Nemral shouts as he nears the warrior who is resting by the fire at the heart of the camp, “We found it!”

  “How far away?” Cornar asks in a relieved tone and rises to meet the two thieves.

  “I don’t know,” Sharon states between breaths. “We only saw a towering building looming over the horizon.”

  “That’s a start,” Cornar nods his head and turns back to the fire, “Kalder and I will take first watch.”

  * * * * *

  Two days later in the midmorning, the expedition hastily moves through the dormant forest, toward the towering structure found by Nemral in Sharon; several other ruinous buildings can be seen among the one initially spotted by the thieves.

  “The trees are thinning,” Kalder observes as the party presses closer toward the ruins.

  At that moment, the signaling whistle established by Cornar wisps through the trees and Nemral unveils himself from beneath his concealing cloak.

  “There is a huge clearing ahead,” the thief states as he nears the others.

  “Where’s Tilthan?” the leading warrior asks.

  “Where do you think?” Nemral chuckles, “He went ahead to search the ruins.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Nordal remarks with a sly grin on his face.

  “How large is the clearing?” Cornar asks Nemral and the thief turns to join the party.

  “Maybe a grand phineal,” Nemral replies, “There is a lot of debris between the tree line and the ruins. However, the trees move partway into the ruins. And there are no roads between any of the buildings, it’s like they’re buried in the ground.”

  After a brief moment, the party emerges from the trees into the clearing mentioned by Nemral; each of the men and women stop in awestruck wonderment, gazing at the ruinous vista before them.

  Directly in front of the party is the large building initially spotted by the thieves; it rises nearly eight hundred phineals in height, the equivalent of one hundred and sixteen stories and is made out of a stone that shows signs of weathering. The shape of the structure is a pointed oval that shallowly narrows and twists as it rises. Much of the structure is intact, although it is missing almost half of its exterior walls from the party’s vantage point. A large section of the exterior wall from the building to the east is lodged partway inside of it, creating a ramp of sorts to the floors nearly halfway up the structure.

  Immediately to the left and west of the initial building are the remains of a towering archway, identical to the gateway in the elven city of Merda.

  Further to the west of the arch is another structure with similar architecture to the initial building spotted by the thieves. However, it only rises two hundred phineals; its upper portions scattered in a southeast direction, partway across the clearing.

  Immediately around the arch and the towers are the foundations of other structures which are partially intact. However, the majority of the buildings are almost completely destroyed; with only a part of a wall standing here or there.

  The only other partially intact structure in the immediate vicinity is directly behind the arch, nearly seven hundred phineals away from it. It rises eighty phineals in height and is rectangular in shape with an inward curving exterior along the center third of its front face.

  Further beyond the ruins directly in front of the party, other towering structures can be seen: Each of them share a similarity in architecture to the buildings of Merda; those with their tops still intact have pointed domes, many of which are varying in size and depth.

  The ancient elven skyline continues on in front of the party and to either side as far as the eye can see.

  “I guess it’s not a myth!” Amendal cackles and breaks the silence as he and the others stare at the ruins in front of them.

  “This is what a dragon is capable of?” Ordreth mutters as he stares at the debris of the western tower strewn across the clearing.

  “Those dragons we fought on that island must not have been exerting all their strength,” Nordal remarks and glances around at the party, catching Hagen’s gaze.

  “They must have been toying with us,” the short illusionist sputters.

  “Well,” Hex takes a deep breath, “They were really old.”

  Clearing his throat, Cornar speaks up to address the members of his and Iltar’s expedition: “We need to find a place to camp. These ruins look extensive; we could probably spend years studying this place. I think we should head for tha–”

  A high pitched honking shrill echoes from the east, abruptly interrupting Cornar’s instructions.

  Each of the men and women turn to face the sound, all but one of them with startled expressions upon their faces.

  “It’s here!” Amendal cries out, “Dith! Go tame it!”

  “What?!” Dith gasps as he looks to his former master in the magical arts. “No. I am not going out there to face that thing.

  “We need to get out of here!”

  Many of the warriors look to the younger conjurer with a concerned expression upon their faces, then glance to their leader whose features are strained in concentration.

  “Get back into the trees!” Cornar barks and hastily darts toward the edge of the woodland.

  The party quickly scurries back into the tree line then turns to peer into the clearing and the ruins beyond it.

  Several more high pitched honking shrills echo in the air and the ground rumbles slightly. In response to the noise and the vibration, the members of the expedition hold fast to the trunks of the trees, bracing themselves against the bark.

  “What is that?” Hemrin gasps and points to the eastern part of the ruins.

  At that same moment, the vibrations increase in strength and intensity. From within the ruins, a large creature emerges: it walks on all fours and rises nearly forty phineals in height. Its shape resembles that of a dragon, although wingless and with a much shorter tail and neck. Each of its limbs are thick and muscular; upon each of its claws are thick white talons

  Along its back is a thick dark maroon colored mane; it runs the length from the tip of its tail to the crown of its head. Beige colored scales cover its body, with thin off-white hairs protruding from each of the scales.

  The creature’s snout is short, nearly half that of a dragon’s and is much wider, shaped like a wide egg. It’s rounded features curve up to its eyes, which are dark in color.

  Two shiny white horns protrude from either side of its crown and arc in an angled circle, with their tips facing forward just behind the front of the snout. Jagged grooves line the curving horns from their base to their tips. Along each of the horns are sharp tines, arrayed in a random pattern.

  Lumbering through the ruins, the enormous creature opens its jaw and lets out another high pitched honking shrill, bearing its sharp teeth.

  “That,” Amendal cackles with diabolical glee, “Is a gangolin!”

  “We really need to get out of here,” Dith says in a shaky tone, “You don’t know w
hat those things can do.

  “Cor,” the conjurer looks to the leading warrior, “We need to leave!”

  “If you’re not going to tame it,” Cornar glances to the conjurer, “We’ll kill it. Hagen, enhance us with your magic. Hex imbu–”

  “No!” Amendal blurts out and stomps toward the younger conjurer and violently grabs him by the shoulders. “Dith, you will go out there! You are an Aramein Conjurer!”

  Appalled by his former master, Dith stares at Amendal with wide eyes. He opens his mouth to address the old conjurer but is interrupted by Cornar.

  “We’ll compromise Amendal. If Dith faults we’ll strike it down.”

  With his hands still on his former apprentice’s shoulders, Amendal looks to Cornar. After a brief moment of contemplation, he nods his head and lets go of the younger conjurer. He walks toward the trees at the edge of the woodland and plops down upon its roots, facing the clearing and the gangolin slowly walking around the ruins.

  “I won’t let that thing kill you Dith,” the leading warrior sternly states.

  “I appreciate that,” Dith sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

  “You’ll be okay,” Nilia softly speaks up in a consoling tone and smiles at her fellow conjurer.

  “As I was saying,” Cornar raises his voice slightly, “Hex imbue our weapons with icy magic. Then you and Hagen will make some arrows for us.

  “Once we’re prepared, we’ll move along the tree line.”

  “What about Tilthan?” Dendra asks, “He’s still in the ruins.”

  “And he’ll probably stay there,” Nordal chuckles and unsheathes his sword from his side. “He won’t show himself until after the fighting stops.”

  Several minutes later, the party has moved along the leafless tree line while the gangolin has lumbered into the middle of the clearing and is searching the rubble from the western tower.

  Dith carefully creeps out from the trees and quietly treads across the open field. After a moment, the young conjurer comes within a hundred phineals of the gangolin and whispers the words to a spell; golden light gathers in his hand as he recites the incantation.