The Gems of EL - Separate Paths

By Bill Mays

Tark, separated from his companions, strikes out to discover his purpose with only the most unlikely of allies by his side -- Ado the Tremlin. Why was he chosen? How do the strange beings known as the ancients fit into the puzzle? What secret does the glowing blue gem of Kandair hold? What is happening to his mind and emotions? While Tark searches for these answers, Dalia, Flade and Arianna search for him. He may have left them behind, but they are not about to give up on their troubled friend just yet. The trio embark on an adventure all their own.
Events are unfolding across the civilized lands that reveal the Dark Lord's plans to be grander than anyone ever suspected. With King Airos of Kandair out of the way and The Three-Empire League incapacitated, his true search begins. Unrest spreads across Pangias. Meiron's power grows, as does his desperation. He wants the gem of Kandair and nothing is going to stop him from claiming it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Mays III
• Release date: Nov 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310179747

Bill Mays

I currently live in Commerce City Colorado with my husband two dogs, and two cats, though my work carries me all across the country and beyond the borders as a flight attendant and an instructor for other flight attendants. I have a degree in studio art, have been an actor and professional artist, as well as many other things, but I have found my love for writing which stems from my love of role-playing games and reading. Fantasy adventure is my absolute favorite, though science fiction follows at a close second. I have learned that writing is good for my soul. I plan to continue writing fantasy books for many years to come! Feel free to contact me at [e-mail]

Book preview

Prologue

The ancient beings felt the presence of another great disturbance threatening their world for months now. Actions were being taken, discretely. Would they be enough to prevent another disaster like the one over a thousand years earlier? Only time would tell.

Vantar, Speaker of the Nar, placed his scaled chest and face to the warm, stone floor, his arms outstretched with palms facing upwards. His three clawed fingers and thumb spread wide. He sat on his knees with his reptilian tail flat against the warm stones as well. It was a position of utter submission. Vantar hated this position. Obedience went against every ounce of his being. He hated feeling vulnerable, but that was the intention here. The Nest Lord demanded it of all his underlings. The Nest Lord, being the ruler of the nar, saw everyone else as an underling, even the mighty speaker of his people. The Nest Lord stood taller than the rest of the nar and physically stronger, too. His bulky stature rivaled that of the ogre chieftains spread throughout the surface world. Strength ruled their society.

He walked behind Vantar, beside Vantar, and in front of him. Occasionally, the ruler let his thick-scaled tail brush against the prone speaker. He kept this up until Vantar’s scales shifted from a dull brown to a sickly yellowish-green color. The shift meant that his goal was accomplished. Fear was instilled in his subject. Among the nar, it was not unheard of for a submissive member to be savagely assaulted by his superior. After a long moment of silent pacing around the prone elder, the Nest Lord decided to speak. His deep, hissing voice echoed loudly in the vast subterranean chamber that was the center of the nest. It was a central cavern in a maze of connecting tunnels and hollows joined to other complex labyrinths beyond. Located near an active volcano’s pit, the air was hot, and the very stones kept warm always. The nar preferred the extreme warmth. They enjoyed the heat. Temperature and the labyrinths kept unwanted visitors far from their secreted domain.

Tell me what you have learned, Vantar, the Nest Lord spoke in an excited, hissing rush. Patience was not a virtue of the nar, not even their leader.

The Speaker was relieved to hear the larger elder address him directly. It meant he could rise again. The prone position was not only degrading but also quite uncomfortable.

Vantar twisted his thick neck from side to side in an effort to work out the kinks. He cleared his throat before answering, My lord, as we had d’scussed several formants were recruited from de lesser creatures of de surface. All were dealt wit witout revealing our true identity.

Vantar explained everything very carefully. The Nest Lord was known for his explosive temper. Because the strongest ruled among the nar, one did not dare upset his or her superior. It was not necessarily the most intelligent or practical of arrangements, but it was the way of things among the ancient beings. They kept a strained sense of order.

Enough of de formalities! the Nest Lord snapped. What have we learned? What do we know? His thick tail slapped against the stone irritably.

Yes, of course, my lord, Vantar turned his slanted eyes to the ground. The slit, snakelike pupils narrowed in irritation. We have learned dat two of de gems have surfaced. Only one is in use now. De udder is also in a lesser being’s possession, but we don know where at de moment. At lees he don seem to be able to use it at de current time.

How much time has passed and dat is all you can tell me? The Nest Lord was not pleased with the report. We already knew dat much! What of de udder beings? How are dey dealing wit dis news?

Vantar shifted his thick tail nervously. His scales were darkening from yellow, returning to a dull brown, but that question halted the color change. It was true he had not found much new information to report. The speaker hoped that his roundabout speech might detract from that fact. De frail creatures called hu-mans dominate de conflict for now but many of de udder lesser creatures are involved. Dey gather in droves like insects.

Not de lesser beings, you fool! The Nest Lord’s scales shifted from a deep violet to a vibrant orange-red. Vantar could nearly see the heat exuding from the large elder. His clawed hands sparked with white-hot flames.

Vantar’s own scales faded from yellowish-brown to lime green. He was getting very nervous. Forgive de mistake, my lord. Of course, de lessers are unimportant. De verinions are still hidden away in der cloud city. As for de sath, dey are keeping watch over everyting as usual. We tink dey might know where de next gem to awake is. Dey are a sly group, my lord. Vantar dared a glance at his ruler’s face. The Nest Lord seemed pleased with this part of the report.

So, de verinions are staying out of it dis time? I doubt dat. De skinny lil flyers are probly using scouts of der own. The large elder cracked his knuckles loudly as he contemplated this news. An what of de vortexes an de quethu?

Vantar flicked his long tongue out in anticipation. He had been awaiting those questions. It was the only piece of his report that he felt confident about. De quethu are silent, as we expected, but have no doubt dey are watching. De bold human who uses de one gem has only a basic standing of de power witin. De vortexes are feeble an have slowed much. No doubt, de lesser being is too weak of spirit to use dem more frequently. Likely, he drained his pitiful energy away. Dat will teach dem to play wit de power of de ancients. De outer gates have been kept to a minimum, my lord.

Good, good, the Nest Lord hissed, Keep me updated on any new finds. Dos fishes will show dere sickly scales soon enough. The larger elder placed one clawed hand firmly on the speaker’s broad shoulder. We mus not let anodder crises occur. Remember dat Vantar. You are my voice and arm dat will crush dis tret.

Vantar accepted the Nest Lord’s honorable words with a simple nod. It was clear to the speaker that his life was on the line here. He had a delicate balancing act ahead. He was to manipulate the lesser creatures without the knowledge of the nar’s involvement leaking out. The ancient pact among the original beings demanded no less. This would be no easy task.

- Chapter 1 -

Wanderings

Another chill and damp day greeted the pair of wanderers. It had been like this for weeks now. The season was growing colder and the tangled forest they struggled through was not the easiest of paths. The gladiator and tremlin skirted the borders of a dank marsh. For once, they were in agreement. Neither thought it wise to enter the wetlands. The Acid Swamps were a large, desolate area just northeast of the merchant kingdom of Merintz. Why they had come this way originally, they did not know. It was an urge or instinct perhaps. There had been little direction to their journey since leaving the town of Pearin far behind. Tark only wanted to get away and separate himself from everyone before he caused them more trouble. Venturing from one settlement to the next, they found a semblance of a course. Their only lead on finding an actual direction in purpose had come from the parchment of strange rune writings concealed in the scroll tube. The parchment surely tied to the mysterious blue gem in some way, but for now, that tie eluded them completely. A couple of months lapsed with the two being each other’s only company. Basically, they were sick of one another.

There had been brief stops in several towns and small villages in the merchant domain. Word spread quickly of the war between their neighbors, Kandair and Drackmoore. It was obvious the countrymen of Merintz were afraid the battle raging on their border would swell to include them. The general feeling towards this prospect was one of opposition. These people did not want any part in a war. Merintz was not a warrior kingdom, and her people did not want to get involved. The four ruling merchant kings were not eager to join in the battle either. In the long history of the merchant lands, they had always used hired mercenaries to do their fighting when necessary. The mercenaries of Helmbrem in Villinsk were a favorite resource. The people had no problems with supplying much-needed goods to their neighbor Kandair, but that was as far as they wanted to go. Their plan was to remain neutral in appearance to all, while doing what little they could to aid their friendly neighbor.

The former ruler of the Kandairian kingdom had come on a diplomatic mission to petition the merchant kings for support in the forthcoming war. The mighty Three-Empire League, which consisted of Kandair along with Villinsk and Flaren, had been on the verge of collapsing, or so the warrior king suspected. His suspicions were correct and the petition went unanswered. The kings of merintz had been extremely reluctant even to hear the petition. They knew that their people would not be interested in challenging Drackmoore or its dark lord. It was no big surprise when the ever-cautious rulers turned the offer down.

Ado sighed loudly and then spoke up again out of pure frustration. Maybe we should just head back to Kandair. If there’s still a Kandair to go back to, that is. I’m sure that old man, Vergehen, would know what these runes mean.

The tiny gremlin held the rune-covered parchment at various angles. The parchment had been discovered wrapped around an artifact Tark now carried. It was an artifact that was the cause of all their troubles. It was the item that the Dark Lord of Drackmoore sought and King Airos of Kandair bade them to protect. They could only assume the runes held the answers to the item’s purpose or destiny or both. Ado was trying to make out something, anything in the alien writing. With another grumble of frustration, he wadded up the parchment and tossed it back into Tark’s pack.

I told you a long time ago, I’m not going back to Kandair, Tark stated flatly. The glowing-blue gem he now wore tied on a leather cord about his neck pulsed beneath his leather jerkin. He figured that to be the safest place to keep the stone.

But we are just wandering around aimlessly! How many backwater settlements do you plan to visit? Ado squeaked in irritation, And no one seems to be able to read that… that… jumble of scribbles! It probably isn’t even writing!

Leave then! Tark snapped. I made it clear I intended to do this on my own. What is keeping you here anyway? Your wings do work, right? They aren’t just for show. Don’t you have some caravan or inn to pester? Isn’t that what gremlins do?

"I am a tremlin you big oaf! How many times do I have to…?" Ado stopped his ranting when he noticed the big man was smiling smugly.

Tark knew calling Ado a common gremlin was one sure way to rile him up. The tiny man rolled his little red eyes and sat back down on the large gladiator’s broad shoulder. He fished the rune-covered parchment from the man’s pack and returned to scrutinizing the unreadable paper.

You are the most annoying human I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with, the little gremlin grumbled as he pulled his green cloak about his shoulders for warmth. He folded up the parchment neatly this time and placed it safely inside his extra-dimensional, magical pouch. This thing is giving me a headache, or maybe that’s just your stink. You could use a bath.

Ado meant what he said, but he had grown much closer to his former rival during these past months on the road together. Originally, Tark and Ado had trouble being in the same general vicinity without an argument erupting. Something changed after the events in Pearin on their road to the temple known as The Council’s Reverie. The two shared a bond in their recently departed friend, Teevo. He was a young boy, an orphan, hired as an attendant by the fair Lady Dalia. The child met his end at the hands of a Drackmoorian ambush set by the dark elf captain of Meiron’s elite troops, Kaith. Tark had slain the elf. More than that, he mutilated the assassin beyond recognition. Still, he felt the strong sting of guilt over the boy’s death. Ado, too, felt that sting. The gremlin made it his duty to watch out for the human child, yet he had been absent during the boy’s time of need. Both shared this bond of friendship and guilt over the loss of their young companion.

Now they were alone together. The other people they had been traveling with were left far behind. It was the gladiator’s attempt at protecting the others. Even though he would not admit it openly, Tark was glad to have the pesky little mage with him, if for nothing more than to have someone to bicker with. Despite his boisterous claims, Tark did not truly want to be alone. His burden seemed so heavy and his journey endless. The big man doubted his sanity would last long in solitude. Ado always hated being alone and, for some strange reason, felt he owed it to Teevo to keep the big ox of a gladiator out of trouble. Someone had to have the brains to watch out for danger. Here they were, two unlikely companions marching together towards an uncertain future.

Tark’s hand slipped beneath his leather shirt. He reached under the bottom hem of the jerkin. His hand clasped the all-important stone hanging about his neck in a firm grasp. The large gem pulsed with a life of its own. He could feel the comforting rhythm of its beating. He had come to find solace in that pulsing rhythm. The magical energy helped him think.

The gladiator still did not understand the importance of the glowing blue artifact of Kandair. He knew very little actually. He was aware of the basic facts of course. The item, originally housed in Talipax, the most fortified city in Kandair, was the thing the Dark Lord of Drackmoore, Meiron, sought. For that reason alone Tark was determined to keep the gem far from the old wizard’s reach. King Airos of Kandair, the famed Warrior King, informed him that he was chosen by fate to carry the artifact to its destination, wherever the hell that was. There had been little discussion at that point since Airos was ill and Tark was furious. He wished he had asked a few more questions. The King failed to include an actual location. The big man still had trouble accepting that fate was targeting him. Tark never even believed in fate before now. He never even gave much credence to raedo either. The idea that your actions built up cosmic credit to benefit or harm you or that some otherworldly force would be interested in your actions seemed farfetched. He was still a little unsure on either topic. He always thought of fate as something gods forced on the minds of their believers, their followers. He was neither religious nor especially faithful to any beliefs.

I should march right back to that temple and dump this thing in Airos’ lap. Let him find another pawn to send on this hopeless quest, Tark grumbled aloud.

Not a bad idea for once, Ado chimed in.

At the least, maybe the lady, the cricket man, or that sexy priestess would still be hanging around the king. A little help would not be a bad thing. The gremlin urged Tark to return for the others time and again with absolutely no success.

Tark shrugged his shoulders roughly and sent the gremlin scrambling to hold on. Fate has chosen me. I can’t, the big man sighed. It sounded dumb speaking the words aloud.

Tark knew it was true no matter how much he rejected the idea. For some strange reason, destiny had given him this task to perform. Perhaps it picked him simply because he chose not to believe in it. Tark had also come to learn over the last few weeks that the magical stone held special powers. It removed all need for sleep or sustenance from his body. The big man still felt the instinctual urge to drink and eat every once in a while, but never grew hungry or thirsty. He also rested to catch his breath, but sleep did not come to him anymore. Remembering the intense fatigue that washed over him the moment he had released the precious item to the King before, Tark feared the results should he relinquish the gem now. This was another reason for him to continue eating, drinking, and resting, at semi regular intervals. It was one more chore to maintain.

During his moments of rest, when he closed his eyes, there were sometimes flashes. Brief images would race through his mind. Some he recognized like his friends, Dalia, Arianna, and Flade. Other images were completely foreign to him, or worse recognizable but ominous. One of these was the reoccurring flash of mottled-green reptilian tails, clawed hands, and yellow eyes. Another disturbing image was of a creature, a huge lizard with scales as black as night. The monstrosity was always shrouded in shadow. He would picture random faces, too. People he had never met before, and a place, a temple or perhaps a castle. There were yellow pools of liquid and spiraling towers of white and black stone. The impossibly tall structure held a deep sense of power. Then sometimes he saw a dark chamber filled with treasures and a crypt. As the crypt began to slide its lid open, a bright green glow filled his sight. He never saw what was in the crypt. He was not sure he wanted to for a strong sense of dread accompanied that image. He saw other locations, too, places just as exotic and foreign to him. Vibrantly green forests and icy caverns were common sights, even graveyards filled with thick mists. Were they some sort of clue? Should he get a course to follow from these images? The visions were so sporadic and varied. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to these locations. What did it all mean? Tark often feared he was losing his mind. He felt less and less like his normally rational self. Occasionally, Tark would describe these images to Ado.

Yep, you sound crazy to me, was always the gremlin’s giggled reply. The expected response from his little companion usually brought a grin to his face. As annoying as the gremlin could be, Tark felt his sarcastic presence somehow helped to ground him.

Ado smashed a huge bug with both hands. The worm-like flying insect was nearly as large as the tiny man’s head with a stinger aimed for Tark’s exposed neck. He had killed at least seven of the nasty insects over the past two days. The bugs, marsh stingers, were just one of many unpleasantries they were discovering on the edges of the wetlands.

Can you remind me why we are staying on the fringes of this putrid swamp again? I mean besides the lovely smell and friendly atmosphere that is. The tremlin was secretly using Tark’s long, bound hair to wipe the bug guts from his slime-covered hands.

We are looking for the sage, Tark growled back. You already know that!

"Oh yes, the sage, how could I forget? A group of root farmers said the old crone lived out in the forest on the verge of the Acid Swamps, in a hidden shack. There truly is nothing like a reliable source. They call her a sage, but did you see them? It’s probably some old witch who wants to be left alone. She probably isn’t especially knowledgeable on anything but swampland and leeches. I’m surprised they didn’t call you a sage for that matter, and that is just a sad, sad thought. They barely had a full set of teeth between them. Of course, no one has seen or heard from this sage woman in years, but why should that stop us from trying to find her? I mean it’s not like an old human could die of natural causes or perhaps unnatural ones out here in this lovely retreat." Ado was clasping his hands together and smiling while blinking his red eyes repeatedly. The sarcastic tone he used only added to the overly dramatic display.

If you don’t quit complaining, I’ll feed you to one of those giant frogs we saw back there! Besides, what other leads do we have? We need a real sage to look at that writing, unless you want to suddenly become useful and translate it.

Their bickering had become second nature to the two wanderers. It helped to pass the time. Ado did quiet down, though. He was never quite sure just what the big human was capable of doing. Tark seemed a little unstable lately. The huge frogs had been the size of human children and their bulging golden eyes watched Ado a little too closely for comfort. He could imagine them mistaking him for an especially large and tasty insect. The tiny mage decided that maybe it was time for another nap. The scenery was not changing and neither was the company. Ado popped open Tark’s backpack and was preparing to settle in when a crude wooden javelin impaled the pack not three inches from where he was about to lay his head. It struck the small tender box, which prevented it from piercing through into Tark’s back. The gremlin shrieked an ear-splitting scream as he quickly mumbled a spell to turn invisible. Tremlins were not fans of danger - ever.

Tark immediately dropped to the ground as two more javelins struck a moss-covered tree before him. His hand immediately tightened around the shaft of his trident. A quick scan of the area revealed several sets of yellow reptilian eyes peering out from the tangled brush.

Lizard men!

Tark shouted the warning though there really was no reason to. It was force of habit. He had grown accustomed to alerting his allies in battle, whether it was his teammates in the arena or his companions on the road. It was just he and Ado now, and the gremlin was always one step ahead of him when it came to avoiding combat. Tark’s trident was out and spinning before the three creatures could advance through the tangled vines they used as cover. It was just a matter of time before this happened and he knew it. He had been warned several times of the dangerous lizard-man tribes that ruled the Acid Swamps. Everyone warned him away from its borders. His own visions showed him the yellow-eyed reptiles.

In the last town, they even spoke of a small settlement, which had tried to exist near the border of the wetlands, only to be decimated to a person. All that turned up when supply merchants went to visit was an empty village. Lizard men were intelligent humanoids with scaled, greenish skin and spine-ridged backs and tails. There were different varieties but the basics remained unchanged. They were one of the numerous menagerie races. They lived in crude, savage tribes and were not friendly towards most other beings. Tark had seen a couple of the creatures during his gladiatorial days in Drackmoore. He never had any direct dealings with them, but others always described them as vicious warriors. At this moment, he had to agree.

The first of the savage humanoids lashed out with its tail in a crude attempt at tripping the gladiator. Tark pinned the thick tail to the ground with a quick downward thrust. The reptilian man hissed in pain and recoiled as the trident pulled loose. The other two attackers came at the big man with sharp teeth and claws. Tark twirled the trident, batting aside one set of clawed hands. He then elbowed the second creature in the side of the head as its powerful jaws snapped shut too close to his neck.

Any time you want to jump in pipsqueak is alright with me, Tark called out to the air.

You seem to be handling things just fine, a shrill voice replied from a distance, followed by a high-pitched giggle. Those brutes look dangerous. I think I’ll just keep a lookout from up here to make sure nothing else decides to join the fight. The squeaky voice rang out cheerfully from far above the battle scene.

You do that, the big man grumbled under his breath.

He really had not expected anything different from the tremlin. Tark scowled as he jabbed repeatedly into one of the three lizard men, dropping the creature to the leaf covered ground in a heap. Of all the possible companions to get stuck with, why did he have to get the cowardly gremlin? Actually, Tark knew it was for the best. This way he did not have to worry about taking care of anyone but himself. He fought better on his own, less distraction. It was just easier without having constantly to watch others’ backs for them. His thoughts flashed to Dalia. He missed the pristine lady and her ever stoic and rational presence. Her clear grey eyes and silvery hair cascading about her delicate shoulders were a vision he enjoyed picturing often. A scaly tail smacked hard into the back of the big man’s legs jarring his focus to the present situation. The blow knocked him off balance and nearly stole his footing. The lizard men, while not quite as tall or broad as Tark, were larger than an average man and very powerful for their size. The creatures fought with the savagery of animals. He could see why no settlement had lasted in this region. A whole tribe of these creatures would be too much for anyone to handle. A spin of his trident sliced three neat lines across the extended arm of the lizard man who had just smacked him with its tail. The creature hissed and lunged at him. A solid punch from his free hand sent the lizard stumbling away, trying to shake the stars from its vision. The blow hurt Tark’s hand, too. Their scaly skin was as tough as tree-bark.

The last of the savages was suddenly upon him. In a flash, the reptilian humanoid leapt onto Tark’s back. Claws and teeth sank in as its tail beat him about the legs. The sharp pain was a quick reminder that no one was watching his back either. He could not afford to let his guard down anymore. Tark dropped to his knee forcefully, letting the action hurl his attacker over his head and to the ground in front of him. The move was painful, smashing his knee into the ground, but it was necessary. He could hear the tearing of flesh as the lizard man’s claws desperately sought to hold tight on his back.

Damn that hurt! He cursed as he sprang back to his feet and impaled the flailing reptile.

Tark, behind you! Ado squeaked from above.

Without hesitation, the gladiator ripped his weapon free of the dying victim. He jabbed the butt of his trident behind him and into the remaining creature’s stomach. The final lizard man rushed him from behind, prepared to leap on his back as its comrade had done.

Fool me once, Tark growled with a smirk on his lips.

A skilled twirl of his silver weapon pierced through the stumbling reptile’s neck and shoulders. The big man placed a foot on the dying creature and yanked his trident free, spilling more blood onto the moist ground. As the last of the dying humanoids lie twitching on the leaves at Tark’s feet, his tiny companion popped into sight hovering in the air just in front of him.

The tiny man brushed his little clawed hands together as if to show that he was finished dealing with the lizard men. Now that is done with, can we get moving? This place gives me creepy feelings! Ado folded his arms across his chest and shivered a little for effect. Are you going to need time to bandage, because we’re starting to lose light already? Ado then scanned the sky with a frown.

The big man could not help but crack a smile as he flexed away the pain of his injuries. How anyone or anything could be so self-absorbed never failed to amaze him. Ado was a piece of work that was for sure. He wondered if all tremlins were that way. Without responding to his ridiculous little companion, Tark set about tending his wounds as best he could. His kneecap and knuckles ached. It was hard to do much proper binding since the majority of his injuries were on his back. Luckily, his pack absorbed some of the attack. He removed the item to attend better to the wounds.

At least I think we’re on the right track. I’ve seen these creatures in my visions, the gladiator sighed. He had seen reptilian images flash through his head, so he had to trust it meant something.

Absolutely lovely, your craziness has been confirmed. Ado sighed and went about scrutinizing the mangled backpack that was also his bed. Several rips in the leather marked where the claws had struck it and a large hole showed the javelin’s entry. Well isn’t that just great! I guess it will be a little drafty from now on, the miniature man mumbled to himself in annoyance. He wiggled his fingers and grumbled the words to a spell. The tears in the pack sealed somewhat. That will have to do, I suppose, he frowned.

Ado then removed his own small pack. It was the pouch Vergehen the Wise had given him as a reward. It was a special container. Though from the outside it appeared nothing more than a plain pouch a human might carry coin in, on the inside it was entirely different. There was a two-foot extra-dimensional space inside the small bag. The gremlin made good use of the storage. The little man pulled out a shiny red apple and started munching while rifling through the many other items he stored inside in neatly stacked rows. Finally, he crawled back out, for his entire body had disappeared inside the pouch, and this time he carried a finely crafted pair of human-sized leather riding gloves.

Take these, Ado called as he tossed each shiny black glove to the seated gladiator. I suppose they will do us more good on your hands than in my bag. Besides, he would probably want you to have them.

Ado turned his head away so as to hide any expression he held from Tark’s view. The gladiator seemed puzzled at first, and then recognition set in. He lifted the fine gloves in his hands and looked upon them in silence. A twinge of guilt tore at his heart. Finally, Tark felt the urge to speak.

I had forgotten about these. I guess I just assumed they had been buried with him.

Never let a magical item go to waste. Edle, my old master, taught me that.

Ado still hid his face from sight. The tiny man was fidgeting with a copper ring emblazoned with the image of an eye. He wore the large ring as a bracelet. Tark was unsure how he should respond. He really did hate these moments. Emotions were not his area of expertise.

Thank you, Ado. I will put them to good use in Teevo’s honor, the big man’s voice was a bit strangled as he spoke.

Whatever! The gremlin perked up. As long as you don’t go dropping dead on me and leaving me stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.

"And just how did the two of you come to be in my ‘middle of nowhere’, hmmm?" The unexpected voice jolted the two wanderers to their feet.

Tark dropped the gloves and drew forth his trident. Meanwhile, Ado squealed with fright and began mumbling another invisibility spell. A slender female figure stepped from the trees, seemingly out of nowhere.

Don’t be afraid handsome, not of me anyway, the silky voice giggled.

* * * * * * * * * *

They meandered through the tangled wood for most of the day’s remaining light. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of any shack or any sage. Tark kept a tickled smirk on his lips and Ado griped and rambled on endlessly.

What a bothersome wench that tree sprite was! Ado complained as he rode along on Tark’s shoulders. Who did she think she was anyway? The gremlin grumbled. She was basically throwing her skinny little body at you. I never did like the fey folk, none of them. They’re a flighty bunch those sprites, elves and fairies. Can’t trust them I tell you! Tark did not reply, but only chuckled under his breath. What’s so funny you big ox? Ado was getting more and more agitated.

Oh nothing, the gladiator smirked, It’s just that you liked her pretty much up until she turned you away. Tark laughed out loud. What was it she said? Something about ugly little gremlins and a snowball in the flames of hell? The big man’s whole body shook with laughter despite his injuries.

Enjoy it while you can you repulsive ogre! She only liked you because she didn’t get close enough to smell you!

And, what do you have against the fey? Aren’t gremlins fey creatures, too? Tark grinned even more. He knew that statement would get a rise out of the little mage.

Ado’s gray face turned pink with anger, but he refrained from commenting on the absurd question. No gremlin with the sense of a newborn kitten would claim any relation to the fey. Ado sat quietly contemplating what had just transpired. Tark was busy fitting the shiny gloves over his large hands. At first, they thought her a druid, a guardian priestess of the wilderness, but that misconception was quickly dispelled. A wood sprite, a dryad, had spotted them in her wood. The slender woman looked like a forest elf-maiden save for her coloring. She matched the season of the trees. Her hair was long and wild. Its shade was a deep burgundy with highlights of gold and orange. Her smooth skin was the color of light brown bark. Her glinting eyes sparkled of their own accord, dark emerald with a hint of yellow-green like a lily pad in late summer. She wore nothing to cover her slim figure save for her long hair where it happened to fall or the random vine with a leaf. The dryad’s voice was sweet and enticing, like a playful young maid with experience to share. The little vixen called out to the brawny gladiator to join her in her tree. A dryad’s charm was supposedly unequalled. Why then did Tark brush her advances aside with nothing more than a question about some old sage’s whereabouts? He was only human after all, was he not?

How did you do it? Ado piped up, quite put off at not being able to figure this one out.

Do what?

You know what I’m asking! The wood wench, how did you resist her charms? Dryads are legendary for that. If they call you, you’re gone forever to a life of blissful pleasures. The tremlin trailed off while staring wistfully back towards where the maiden had rejected him and then departed.

She was cute, but I have more important things to worry about right now.

Tark smiled to himself as he marveled over the magical gloves’ disappearance seemingly into his skin. He was enjoying this. He was tickled immensely by Ado’s discomfort, too. Actually, he had felt the pull of the woman’s call. It was almost hypnotizing. Her sweet voice echoed in his ears and reached into his mind, but then he just shut it off. He was not really sure how he did that, he just did, just as easily as closing an open door.

She was a bit skinny for my tastes, the gladiator chuckled teasingly.

Careful what you say, warrior. A dryad’s ears have a pretty lengthy reach, you know, and they are vain creatures to be sure. The statement jolted the two wanderers for the second time in not so many hours. And, they don’t usually take insults well.

There before them stood a stooped woman wearing so many layers of rags it was hard to identify if she was even human. Ado squealed again and darted into the air while Tark reached for his weapon.

Who are you? Tark grunted.

Who am I? Well isn’t that amusing. I thought you were looking for me. I must be mistaken, but I could have sworn Lilelee said you asked about me? There aren’t any other sages I know about in these parts. The old woman turned away from the gladiator without another word and began shuffling back into the brush from whence she had come, mumbling to herself the whole way.

Wait, please! Tark shouted quickly after her as he put his weapon away. You are the sage?

The old woman stopped abruptly and turned to stare at the big warrior. She arched her back to rise from her stooped posture. Don’t look so surprised, young man. Stranger things have come to pass. I know I probably don’t offer up an impressive image, but I have studied in some of the finest libraries, schools, and monasteries, across Pangias.

No, I didn’t mean to say… It’s just… how did you find us?

Lilelee told me. I already said that. Well, actually Lilelee told Nivit and Nivit told me. From what I hear, you are an impressive warrior. You really got that dryad’s attention, then, after you shook off her charm, well, that made her fall for you all the more. She’s like any other young woman in that aspect I suppose. Ignore us and we’re in love! she chuckled.

What? Tark was following the trail of thought albeit slowly. The strange woman spoke as if dealing with an old colleague about familiar topics.

That one always wants most what she can’t have. She’s a lot like us humans in that aspect I guess.

Tark tossed away the extra information. He did not care about the dryad. We have been searching for you for weeks. I was beginning to think it was a lost cause.

Normally it would be, but anyone who can deal with those bothersome lizard savages is worth my time. They do so get in the way of good research. The old woman was shaking her head and mumbling again under her breath. She adjusted her many satchels and pouches.

And you should have seen how he dealt with them, a playful voice cooed just behind Tark.

The big man jumped again. His weapon was poised to strike. The dryad stepped from a tree as easily as if it were the swinging door to a tavern.

Would you please stop doing that? he exclaimed.

Anything for you my love, the slender maiden panted. His skin ripples with muscle. Look at those arms and that handsome face, so rugged and masculine. The redheaded woman was nearly draping herself on the big man. She used one hand to stroke his thick hair while losing herself in his dark eyes.

Another false alarm I see, a squeaky voice dripping with annoyance chimed in from nearby.

And who might that be? the old woman asked, genuinely curious. Nivit only mentioned one visitor.

It’s nothing but an ugly little gremlin, the dryad volunteered as she continued fawning over Tark. It wasn’t worth mentioning.

My name is Ado, Ado the Magnificent, thank you very much. For your information, I am a tremlin, a tremlin mage! The little man folded his arms across his puffed out chest. Too bad he was still invisible and no one could see how offended he was.

Ado, huh? Well isn’t that a fitting name for one of the gremlin family. My name is Herrin, the old woman offered back. Why don’t you show yourself? I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting a tremlin before.

If you ask my opinion, I think it better he remains invisible. He really isn’t much to see. Let us just look at the pretty one here, the dryad giggled playfully.

Tark was having trouble stifling his laughs. He might have been more embarrassed by the nearly nude woman’s adoration if he were not trying so hard to contain his mirth at Ado’s expense.

Damn fey folk! Ado grumbled. The little man’s ego was sorely bruised.

Tark had tears of laughter in his eyes. The big man gently removed the wood sprite from his person to re-address the old lady sage. Forgive my rudeness, Tark dipped his head in a polite gesture, I am called Tark.

Tark, oh my lovely Tark. What a simply delicious name! The nearly nude woman danced about repeating his name over and over in musical tones. I am Lilelee, but you can call me anything you choose. She ended standing directly before the man biting her bottom lip with that mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. He’s even prettier than my beloved Randolf the poet was, don’t you think Herrin? The wood sprite looked to Herrin for her agreement. The old woman shook her head dismissively.

Enough for now Lilelee… please. We have important business to discuss. I can see it in his eyes, serious trouble follows this one.

The dryad frowned, and then stared daggers at the old woman for a moment. She then shrugged as if all was forgotten and forgiven and danced off to disappear into another large, moss-covered tree. I’ll be back my love, my Tark! She giggled from within the trunk.

You can count on that, the old woman, Herrin, confirmed with a shake of her head. Come now, let us sit and discuss what brings you all the way out here over a nice cup of tea. I have created the tastiest brew. Nivit is already preparing it for us. I do hope you like tea? The old woman seemed seriously concerned over the topic.

Yes, tea is fine, Tark smiled back. I wanted to ask you about some runes.

The look she gave him in reply was an odd one, as if the tea was more important than his question. Just how long had this woman been deprived of human contact, he wondered. Now that he could get a better look at the sage, Tark decided she was not quite as old as she originally appeared. Her unkempt state and stooped stance along with the mounds of rags and satchels she wore made her appear elderly. She was still no spring chicken, but not as aged as he anticipated. From the stories the villagers had told him this woman must have begun her sagely studies at a very early age.

Not here. After the tea, in safer surroundings we can discuss your runes. You never know who may be listening. The woman scanned the swamplands suspiciously. Ado the Magnificent, do you like tea? She changed the subject.

I love tea, thank you, Ado squeaked. The little man was trying hard to pick his shattered ego up off the damp ground. Hearing his self-proclaimed title spoken aloud helped.

Good, good, the sage sung to herself as she led the two away.

They wandered through the swampy wood a while before the old woman led them into a tangled thicket of thorny vines and branches. Ado landed back on Tark’s shoulder. He was tired of flying and he wanted to speak to the big man privately.

It’s an illusion, that thicket isn’t real, he whispered. Nothing fancy, but the image is convincing enough. There’s a small hut just over there.

The tremlin was happy to get some use out of his copper ring bracelet. It was a magical gift, which allowed him to see through any illusion as if it were a dirty pane of glass. Tark was only half-listening to the gremlin. Ado was always rambling on about something. He was still curious to see what a nivit was. The woman had mentioned the name several times already.

- Chapter 2 -

Behind Enemy Lines

Don’t you think there should be other options here? Are you certain there is no other way to go about this? I don’t see the point in just offering ourselves right back into their grasp. This is a fool’s errand! The short, gangly man with the rodent-like features questioned their course for the third time in under an hour.

Yes, it is the only way! Now be quiet and keep your eyes open before I knock you upside the head, the stocky knight known as Manifor Stormblade, Mani for short, scolded.

Humph! Do you hear the way they talk to me, boy? Ganze, the gangly man, whispered to his new pet.

The rat-faced businessman had acquired something very novel to him, a friend. This friend came in the form of a large blackbird injured by an arrow and unable to fly. A Drackmoorian soldier shot the bird after its loud squawking alerted the gangly man and his fleeing party to a possible ambush. Ganze stumbled upon the injured animal on his way back to The Council’s Reverie, a temple outside Merintz’s town of Pearin. He brought the poor bird back with him for medical attention. The animal had saved his life after all, and so he simply returned the favor. It was the perfect friend. It only listened and never talked back or disagreed. The bird held a look of distinct intelligence in its eyes.

Why did you choose to come with us anyway? Arianna questioned their former guide. Her gaze was beyond annoyed. Everything about Ganze irritated her.

It was plain in her tone she would have preferred he stay behind. The beautiful priestess made a point to brush up against the young knight as she passed him. Her suggestive actions did not go unnoticed. Manifor even blushed slightly. She made her interest in several of the men clear during their stay at the temple of the sister goddesses. The seductive young woman even solidified that interest with a couple of them, in the name of her own goddess, Rashas, of course. All forms of love were respectable offerings in Rashas’ teachings. The new head masters of the temple were not sorry to see the disruptive woman leave. Those were not the kinds of activities they wanted taking place under their sacred temple’s roof.

My dear, I am a businessman. I have been doing what I do for a very long time. It is how I’ve built the reputation that I have today. I accepted an assignment under his late majesty’s request, and I intend to receive payment for a job well done.

The look Dalia shot his way caused him to choke up. The lady would not soon let him forget that his job had cost them the life of her young attendant and friend. Whether he intended it to happen or not, Teevo was gone and nothing the gangly man could say would change that.

Ganze fumbled for the voice to continue. Ahem… and since these wonderful soldiers of Kandair, the rodent-man’s eyes lingered on Manifor as he spoke, have informed me that they cannot pay me, I am forced to carry my pleas to the Queen herself. Trust me, I would rather I had stayed behind, too. This journey screams of trouble.

Ganze felt uncomfortable under Dalia’s hard glare. He returned his attentions to his pet. He called the animal Coal because of its black feathers. He petted the bird and whispered to it, but the lady could easily read the nervousness radiating from him.

Dalia watched him and she knew she had no justification in blaming their former guide. Ganze had done what he thought best in a very difficult situation. They were all lucky he had not just turned them over to Drackmoore as sleep-poisoned prisoners. It would have been easy enough. That alone let her know he was not a completely bad man per se. Still, she disliked him, and her anger and pain over Teevo’s loss needed an outlet. Ganze was the lucky recipient of that anguish.

It had been months since the incident at the Wayward Blade Inn and Tavern, but the image of the child’s death scene held firmly in her mind. Teevo was a sweet, innocent child who did not deserve such a terrible fate. She would never forget the loss. Things had taken a rather troubling turn for the companions since that day. Tark was missing. He was their leader, the backbone of the group. Ultimately, it was a quest assigned to him that brought her and her companions to this point in their lives. Tark was the element that bound them all together. The gladiator left them during the night in a crazed rage, never to return. The lady gathered some basic knowledge of the reasoning, but she still had questions. Whatever they were attempting to deliver was entrusted back to Tark with the passing of King Airos of Kandair. The stress of it all, she assumed, drove the gladiator to venture out alone. His psyche seemed fragile near the end of their travels together. The lady could only hope the big man was able to hold it all together on his own, without their support.

Their odd little mage, Ado the tremlin, left that night as well. Where he went or why, no one knew for sure. Most assumed Teevo’s death was the cause. The two had grown close. Now, they were three, Flade, Arianna and the Lady Dalia. But, they did intend to find their lost friend and rejoin Tark on his journey.

The remaining knight guardian of King Airos Allustare was leading a small band on a mission to deliver the sad news of their liege’s death to the Kandairian resistance headquarters. That and to join the fight for his country’s independence. Manifor Stormblade was one of a handful of soldiers who survived the devastating attack on The Council’s Reverie. He was also one of the select knights of Kandair, and a close personal attendant to the late king. He was the only one left to lead the rag-tag group back across the Merintz and Kandair border through enemy territory and into the resistance’s folds. He had five soldiers at his disposal ranging from an inexperienced youth to a grizzled veteran. Lucky for them, Dalia and her friends requested to join the group. They needed all of the assistance they could get. Travel through the war-torn country of Kandair would not be easy.

The few remaining priests of the temple performed the King’s last rights beautifully. They even tried to send word through prayer to the Kandairian resistance. Unfortunately, none who remained was skilled enough to accomplish their goal. There seemed a strong barrier to their prayers, possibly the magical residue of the war. It was rumored that the Dark Lord Meiron unleashed terribly powerful magic upon their forces. The priests of both the orders in the remote temple were all but wiped out at Drackmoorian hands. All of their more experienced brethren were slain during the attack.

A member of the strange and reclusive sect of druids that guarded the forests around The Council’s Reverie appeared to them the morning they set out on their journey. The sect was instrumental in tipping the scales in their favor during the Drackmoorian assault on the temple. The secret druidic religion’s already small numbers were also greatly reduced in the battle. Because of this, Drackmoore found a new enemy in the druids. The stern nature priest volunteered his services in guiding them across the border safely. He performed his task expertly. The quiet man known to them only as Adder had left their ranks a day ago. He stayed on a full week’s journey into the Kandairian lands, a week longer than he originally intended. The solitary man was a great asset and would be sorely missed. With him as their guide, they made no false turns and were never surprised by anything, man or beast.

The druid possessed the ability to communicate freely with the animals and the plants so they were well advised of any developments in the immediate area. The nature priest led them around several patrols of Drackmoorian soldiers as well as many wandering parties of goblins. These soldiers and mobs appeared to be troops headed to one destination or another. The frequency and size of the troops were unsettling. Besides one small stray party of goblins, their journey thus far had been a smooth one. The hek or forest goblins were no challenge to the warrior band. With the exceptions of Ganze and Arianna, every one of their members was skilled in swordplay to some degree.

With Adder gone, they relied on Flade’s expertise. The handsome ranger was their only guide through the Drackmoorian occupied territories.