The Nemedian Trilogy: Book 02 - The Dragon's Cup Page 6

“I agree to the sum of one thousand that you were most likely promised.”

  The master-thief chuckled at him, “You are not as stupid as you look.”

  They pressed forward, this time with the Grand Mage taking the lead. After a couple of hours of steady travel, they began to come across signs of Draugr activity. A Norse axe, heavily rusted but still bearing the marks of its burial engravings lay discarded upon the ground. Further along the passageway, dirty scraps of clothing and ceremonial armour in varying stages of advanced disintegration lay strewn across their path. Everyone knew of stories about the Draugr. Some said that they roamed the depths of the earth at night as pale and soulless monsters. Others believed that they were the damned ones, the immortal, rotting corpses of murderers who had been cast out of heaven. Yet others believed that they were mindless beasts of the broken-hearted who now held no emotion inside them other than rage.

  As the group moved cautiously forward, a small opening to the right of them revealed a pale yellow light. Master Bedwyr motioned the others to halt as he quietly inched his way towards the light while pulling his sleeves down to conceal the glow from his moonstone bracelet. As he neared the opening, he smelled a faint odour of decaying flesh and a cold shudder ran through his body.

  The opening was just wide enough for him to fit inside and he cautiously began to shuffle along on his hands and knees towards the light. As he drew closer, he could discern a chamber inside that was illuminated by a series of upright braziers that were filled with burning oil. The walls were covered with tattered tapestries and faded paintings that contained scenes from ancient Nordic battles. At the centre of the chamber and inside carved recesses in the walls were dozens of dark stone coffins, many of which looked to have been disturbed and had their lids removed.

  A dark form suddenly half-rose from inside one of the coffins and sniffed the air, then gurgled a low growl as if something had disturbed it. Master Bedwyr froze as he felt his heart begin to thump inside his ribcage. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally gave a dusty sight and settled itself back down. The Grand Mage continued to remain perfectly still for some time more as his gaze scanned the crypt for further signs of activity. Finally, satisfied that the danger had passed, he slowly began to retreat back back towards the main passageway.

  The group had been waiting patiently for him and he quickly motioned for them to move quietly past the opening.

  “What did you see?” Cara whispered after they had travelled some considerable distance, “you look rather pale.”

  “I saw Draugr,” his voice was faint, “there were too many for us to handle but you must never forget that fire is the only effective weapon against them.”

  “I shall remember,” Cara replied as she recalled the words of magic, ‘Semper Ignis’. In time, as her bond with her spirit ring grew, she would be able to command its magic by the power of thought alone.

  After several hours of steady travel they began to hear the sound of running water. The passageway began to widen and eventually converged to run parallel to a large underground river. A faint glow could be seen in the distance and as they drew closer they saw that it emanated from a building that shone as if it was made out of pure moonlight.

  Marcus Drale drew his blade, causing it to flash momentarily as beams of white-blue light bounced off its highly polished steel. He jerked his head toward his Guild companions and they quickly positioned themselves around the building and drew their weapons. The Grand Mage frowned. The building looked to be most likely a storage outpost or form of temporary accommodation, judging by its general appearance and solitary location.

  After a brief moment’s hesitation, the Grand Mage moved towards the building’s front door. He knocked loudly upon it three times, causing an echo that was quickly swallowed amidst the roar of the river waters. He waited for some considerable time before turning the handle to find that the door was unlocked. As it readily swung inwards upon loose hinges, it revealed a room that was largely devoid of creature comforts. Two dusty old chairs rested either side of an unlit hearth that was framed by a dark oak mantelpiece. Close to the cold hearth lay frayed pieces of discarded rope and empty wooden boxes, many of which looked similar to those he had seen used in the ports of Dukar and Milvin. Master Bedwyr walked inside as his gaze became fixed upon the mantelpiece.

  A bright, crisp sheet of paper had been carefully folded and placed halfway behind an old wooden clock. He gingerly approached the mantelpiece and unfolded the letter as his eyes quickly scanned its contents.

  After a few brief moments a smile spread across his lips, “Marcus, would you be so kind to go outside and light the lamp in the front porch?”

  The eyes of the master-thief narrowed as he nodded towards the paper in the Grand Mage’s hands, “What does it say?”

  “Light the porch lamp and we will come,” the mage’s eyes twinkled, “it is signed by Lord Acheron.”

  Marcus Drale grinned, “Finally, their little test is over,” he walked outside and was pleasantly surprised to find a push-button flint wheel inside the lamp, most likely to keep it dry against the damp air created by the river. Within moments, it was glowing brightly and a series of strategically placed mirrors were revealed upon the walls of the passageway that reflected the light as far as the eye could see.

  Time passed and they took the opportunity to dry out some of their damp clothing by breaking some of discarded boxes to use as fuel for the hearth. As the firewood cracked and burned, they heard the sound of footsteps and whispers outside the door.

  Four knocks fell upon the glowing door, “Open it,” commanded Master Bedwyr.

  Lucus Drale nodded and proceeded to unbolt and open the door which he had previously locked out of habit, due to his many years of living as a thief. Outside stood a group of people that were dressed in dark armour that was mainly hidden behind thick, black woollen cloaks. However, their racial features and pale skin were unmistakable. The companions shifted uncomfortably as they stared at the vampires before them.

  “That was quite the little adventure that you made us take,” remarked Master Bedwyr to break the silence, “although you would have known that a high level mage would be able to keep the group on the correct path.”

  The woman who seemed to be the leader of the group smiled at him warmly, “I can tell that you possess a strong magic,” her gaze shifted towards Cara, “less so in your friend, but she has potential.”

  Without introduction, the woman motioned for them to follow her outside. Master Bewyr immediately did as he was bid and this spurred the others to swiftly follow suit. The light from the porch lamp was quickly extinguished and they were led along the same path that the mirrors had followed. Time seemed to pass by slowly but after several hours of steady travel they began to discern a familiar blue-white glow in the distance. As they drew nearer, the light became stronger and the companions soon realised that they were entering a vast underground city.

  They had reached the fabled city of Cruoris. Magnificent buildings rose far into the dark canopy of rock above as the companions titled back their heads to gaze up at them in awe. As their eyes grew accustomed to the light, the faint tinge of blue began to fade and it was as if the buildings were made out of bright sunshine.

  Without stopping, the woman led them past the openly incredulous expressions of the city’s denizens as they reached the heart of the city. Within the hour they were stood in front of by far the largest building of the city that possessed hundreds of spires that were decorated with carvings of creatures of both myth and legend that were almost lifelike in their perfection. After a short pause, the woman led them across its courtyard towards a large, glowing door that had above it a graven image of a raven.

  As soon as she knocked upon the door it was opened by a man dressed in an opulent crushed red velvet outfit. He bowed deeply at her and spoke, “He awaits the Grand Mage as usual in his private study,” his eyes suddenly flashed towards the group then narrowed, “where is he?”
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  “I am here in his stead,” interjected Master Bedwyr who was keen to maintain his anonymity for the time being, “I am Lugus Corella.”

  The opulently dressed man raised his eyebrows in surprise, “I see,” he sniffed as he pointed towards a staircase to the far right of the hallway, “only you can proceed, the others must wait here.”

  With a quick nod of agreement, the Grand Mage continued on ahead alone. At the top of the stairwell and found himself at the entranceway to an enormous room that was filled with books. A man dressed in dark blue robes that he assumed was Lord Acheron stood waiting for him, “Do you know,” asked the man conversationally as he beckoned him inside, “that the scent of each person’s magic is totally unique?”

  The Grand Mage frowned as he approached him and remained silent.

  Lord Acheron breathed in deeply, “Yours for example, clearly identifies you as Master Bedwyr,” he broke into a broad smile, “I must say that you are looking remarkably well.”

  Master Bedwyr pursed his lips, “That’s the second time my disguise has failed.”

  Lord Acheron laughed at him warmly, “Do not be too hard on yourself, I am adept at discovering the true nature of things.”

  He motioned for them both to each sit upon one of the many gold backed chairs that surrounded an ornately decorated oak reading desk, “You must be tired,” he said as he sat down, “but I wanted to assure you that you and your companions are safe.”

  The Grand Mage nodded his approval as Lord Acheron continued, “I must also inform you of what I have learned,” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “it was a Demon who took control over the body of the last surviving Councillor of Ellington that made sure that only a handful of guards were on duty the night of the city’s attack. It was also the same creature that ordered the destruction of your College and who issued out the warrant out for your arrest.”

  Master Bedwyr frowned, “How do you know this?”

  “I was told about it.”

  The Grand Mage’s expression became dark, “By whom?”

  For a moment, Lord Acheron seemed to struggle to find the correct words, “I fear that you may not believe me, but it was Odin’s messengers. They told me about it before it happened almost a month ago. They said that it must come to pass in order for there to be a chance to save Nemedia from its ultimate destruction.”

  The Grand Mage’s eyes became mere slits, “Why would the raven messengers of Odin come to visit you and tell you this?”

  Lord Acheron’s expression turned sad, “I gave Odin a gift, something very precious to me. In return, I asked for guidance on the path that could free my people from the curse of the sun,” his eyes suddenly filled with moisture.

  “Huginn and Munnin are not of this world,” responded Master Bedwyr as his gaze remained steady, “some believe they just a myth. However, if what you say is true, I do not understand why they would claim that such destruction would benefit Nemedia.”

  Lord Acheron spoke softly, “Some events will guide the path of others.”

  “What is your path?” Master Bedwyr asked quietly.

  “Inside your library is a vault that holds the salvation that my people seek,” he leaned forward sharply in his chair, “help me find it. In return, I promise that I will help you take back your library and re-establish your College.”

  The Grand Mage shook his head, “The vault was sealed long ago,” his face turned suddenly pale, “inside it there is something monstrous.”

  For as long as he could remember, Master Bedwyr had known of the stories about the vault. Many centuries ago, a handful of mages had foolishly disobeyed the instructions of a previous Grand Mage and entered it. A rescue party was swiftly dispatched, but had almost immediately returned, clutching nothing but a handful of bloodied rags. They had been fortunate in finding the clothing close to the entranceway of the vault and had wasted no time in closing and locking the enormous golden door of the vault once more. The following day, stone masons from Dukar had been drafted in to seal the vault for all time behind a thick wall of stone. As the years passed, talk about the vault lessened, only to be renewed on the darkest and stormiest of nights, when a hideous wailing could be heard emanating from behind the wall.

  “You must take me there,” pressed Lord Acheron, “it is the only way that I can persuade my people to help you.”

  Master Bedwyr blinked at him in alarm. “I must think on this,” he avoided the temptation of reaching for the book of the Seer, “give me until the morning and you shall have your answer.”

  Lord Acheron nodded slowly as his light grey eyes studied the face of the Grand Mage closely, “Of course,” he stated as he swiftly leaned back in his chair, “in the meantime, I will ensure that you receive a hot meal and reunite you with your mages.”

  The Grand Mage offered a weak smile, “I cannot thank you enough for rescuing my trainees, and not a moment too soon I gather.”

  “It was not I that saved them but my daughter,” Lord Acheron sniffed, “Bruja was the one that guided you here and, God willing, the one that you will lead to the vault.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun touched the horizon and turned the sky a deep orange as black clouds moved slowly Westwards. Seagulls cried as they circled overhead in air that smelled strongly of the sea as the companions made their way down the Cliffside towards the ship that was moored along the wooden quay. Thunder suddenly rolled in the distance as waves of white water crashed against the rocky shoreline.

  The companions had awoken early following their reunion with one another the prior evening when Roban had apprised the Grand Mage of the events that led to the rescue of the trainee mages. In return, he had learned of the plans agreed at the Grand Council of the Tuatha Dé Danann and of the search for the ‘second seal’. Following a rather basic breakfast of milk, bread and honey, a group of soldiers dressed from head to toe in the dark armour that they now recognised as belonging to the army of Manannán had informed them that they were to be escorted to the coast.

  They were being asked to depart the city by the use of a ship and were free to decide whether to turn East towards the lands of the Elves, or turn West, to aid the people of Manannán and liberate the Isle of Vallan and their College library from the Demons. Marcus Drale and his companions from the Guild of Shadows had already collected their reward and had departed the previous evening.

  The expression of the Grand Mage had remained dark as they may their way down the narrow cliff path towards the vessel. It was now clear to him that Lord Acheron was attempting to force his hand by giving him little time to consider his options. The safety of Cara and the other trainee mages depended upon his decision. If he chose to travel Eastwards, the trainee mages would be out of immediate danger but the allies would lose the support of the vampires and the Demons would be free to ransack the College library. There were dark secrets hidden inside its vault; spells of necromancy that had been banned long ago due to their diabolical nature. If they were discovered, there was no telling what they could do with the knowledge and what evil they could unleash.

  He bent his head against a sudden gust of wind as sheets of dark, grey rain began to fall, covering the coastline and continuing to stretch across the waters to the West as if offering an ominous omen of what lay ahead. A seagull suddenly flapped its wings above his heard then glided over to perch atop the main mast of the ship. The animal seemed to stare directly at him with eyes that were instantly familiar, causing him to smile at it in recognition.

  As the Grand Mage approached the quayside, a figure wearing the same dark armour who also wore a faceplate to protect his skin against the rays of the sun, spoke with a voice that he recognised as belonging to Lord Acheron, “Which way are you headed?” the man asked simply.

  “West.”

  For a brief moment the two men stared at one another, then Lord Acheron bowed his head, “I realise that I may have forced the timing of your decision,” his faceplate briefly turned towards the group
of trainee mages, “but I have received word this very morning that the demons have discovered the vault.”

  “Then we don’t have much time,” the Grand Mage grimaced, “if you get any further visits from the messengers of Odin, I want to be there to speak with them myself.”

  Lord Acheron nodded at him silently and boarded the ship. The companions, numbering three hundred and fifteen trainee mages, the Grand Mage, Cara, Lord Acheron and his daughter Bruja and two hundred and twenty six soldiers swiftly set sail. Lord Acheron informed them that an armada would set sail the following morning, numbering over two thousand of his brethren that would fight to liberate the Isle of Vallan.

  The plan was for their ship to arrive first and to use the gift of surprise to slip inside the vault to locate a sacred tome. Lord Acheron revealed that he believed that the tome had been written by the hand of the Wizard of Manannán himself, in an attempt to use the armies of the dead against the Demons during the first invasion of Nemedia. His use of the dark magic had somehow become corrupted, cursing the peoples of Manannán and also turning the wizard himself into a twisted beast of magic, referred to by the magi as an abomination. Once they had located the tome, they would be able to find a way to end the spell.

  The ship set sail, its jet black canvas swiftly filling as it caught a strong wind that surged it forward. At their current speed, they would reach the Eastern coastline of the Isle of Vallan by nightfall. Master Bedwyr had instructed the others that he would lead them on the most secretive of paths that were only known by the College Elders. As they were unsure of how many of the enemy they would face, the soldiers would act as a shield for the companions as they made their way towards the vault that was likely to be guarded. Once inside, they would seal the entranceway off and not attempt to leave the vault until the tome was found and the armada arrived the following day.

  Cara felt her heart drum inside her ribcage as she thought about the many dangers that lay ahead. She glanced at the dark soldiers that surrounded her and felt her spirit ring shift inside her in anticipation. Master Bedwyr had instructed the trainee mages to use their magic for self-defence only. They would be relying upon the soldiers of Manannán to keep them safe. Cara realised that this was the most sensible strategy as she searched the young and terrified faces of the mages. The last thing they needed would be for a group of frightened trainee mages to cause unnecessary casualties due to friendly fire.