Fanfiction ► The Amulet of Avstadar

[Dredger]

This is a story I started on a while ago, I just found it on a cd yesterday.

*Note* I used the race of Kender in this story which is a race from the Dragonlance series.

I have no qualms in regards to criticism, please be honest and in-depth. "That totally pwnd" or "My god you suxor" does not help me. Please provide details as to why you did/didn't like the story.

Thank you and I hope you enjoy it.

Prologue​

It was a warm Midsummer Day. The sun shone brightly overhead like a large burning eye watching the world from its throne in the sky. Hanging just over the Trennorian Knight, the sun illuminated his silver armor, making it appear almost like platinum. This knight was on duty, standing guard in the watchtower at the main gate in Dernshelm. Turning his head he looked over the breath-taking city. The knight sighed; he never tired of gazing at the massive city. Dernshelm was once a small trading outpost, until the generals of the Knights of Trennor realized the strategic advantage the outpost could serve if built and developed properly. So through years of toil and fighting the generals spared the manpower to build Dernshelm into the booming city it had become. The generals did not stop there, to prevent the fall of Dernshelm the knights erected thick white mortar walls around the city, Making Dernshelm one of the safest cities in all of Aladar.

Dernshelm was the land of opportunity, a city where all were welcome to come and join in the riches. It was the home to the one of the three Trennorian Knight head-quarters. It housed the High Clerist Palace, a white and gold palace, where aspiring clerics from all over the world came to take their test and train in the healing arts. Many families had come to Dernshelm poor and became some of the wealthiest people in the nation. Yes, there was an area of profession for every one from mage, to warrior, to laymen.

The only flaw in the beautiful city was that it was the base of operation for the entire Shadow Guild. The Shadow Guild, a group of master thieves, spies, and assassins had formed an alliance and made their base somewhere in Dernshelm. Many believed the Shadow Guild to be a division of the Shadow Knights, one of the enemies of the Trennorian Silver Knights, but the wise knew full well that the similarities between the two ended at the word “shadow”. The Silver Knights finally gave up trying to find the secret hideout of the thieves and now have learned to co-exist with them.

The sun beat down on the Knight making him sweat inside his heavy silver armor. Beads of sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes and tickling his nose. He reached up, removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from around his eyes. Looking up he glanced at the sun; his watch would soon be over. He turned his head to glance down one of the numerous streets of Dernshelm, the light reflected off the white paving stones, used to mark the main roads, making the ground look as though it were covered in expensive marble. There. The Knight spotted what he had been searching for. His relief guard was slowly making his way towards the wooden watchtower to take over guard duty. Smiling to himself the sweat covered knight leaned against a wooden beam and waited with anticipation for his guard duty to finally be over.

As the knight looked to the sky he noticed that in the far-off distance what seemed to be large storm clouds rolling in. The clouds resembled large gray fortress walls moving towards Dernshelm, more so than normal storm clouds. Frowning, the knight estimated he had three to four hours before the storm hit the city in full force.

“Such a fierce storm when our clerics read calm weather…A bad omen”, he mumbled under his breath.

Turning his attention back to the road the relief knight was gone! Suddenly there was a resonating clunk, as though someone had dropped a hammer onto a metal table. The noise continued at steady intervals, always the noise seemed to be getting closer. The trap door on floor of the tower was quickly flung open and a silver gauntlet poked up through the hole. A few more seconds and the hand was followed by a head, torso, and a pair of legs. Finally a man stood before the knight wearing all silver plate mail, medals decorated the chest of his silver armor, a large polished sword was strapped to his side. The relief guard had finally arrived.



* * * * * * * * * * *



A small hand slid into the leather purse of a passing noble. Upon removal the hand held several steel pieces. Swiftly placing the coins in one of his numerous pouches the owner of the hand, a small kender, turned his head and jogged off down another busy street, his topknot bobbing behind him.

Kenders resembled the elves; they have the pointed ears the large almond shaped eyes and the thin frame. Yet, unlike the elves the kender grow to be on average only three to four feet tall. They wear only brightly colored clothes, usually a bright red or brilliant shade of yellow. Kenders are quite adept at thievery, lock and pocket picking, as well as shadowing, which means they can vanish in shadows. One of the most remarkable facts about kenders is their immunity to fear of all kinds, normal or magically induced. This is probably best since most kender live adventurous lives and find things such as being attacked by a dragon, or being devoured by the dead to be quite “interesting.” Kenders are known all over the world as pests, vermin and petty thieves. Of course one should never tell this to a kender, who are quite adamant about the fact that stealing is bad and that they have found or borrowed all the items they have acquired.

The kender turned towards one of the countless merchant stands that lined the edge of the white paving stones that were used to mark the main roads. He pushed his way through throngs of people walking, standing, and shopping along the road. Finally reaching a relatively open area the kender breathed a heavy sigh, adjusted his many pouches, tossed his topknot over his shoulder and began to push through the crowd again. Catching a glimpse of something shiny he stopped. Shiny things always seemed to catch his eye. Moving out of the way of a sudden stampede of large humans the kender dove off the city street into a side alley going back behind one of the larger stores in this part of town.

It was very dark in the alley, so dark that it seemed as though someone had pulled a black sack over his head. The kender turned to leave until he heard something that caught his attention.

“You know what you must do. Find the Tre… Knight and...kill him.” Hissed a deep voice. The kender could barely hear what was said. Yet, he heard the word “knight” and though eavesdropping was not very nice, he decided to move a little closer.

“But I thought we weren’t supposed to kill him? The boss wants him alive.” whispered another voice, this one not quite as deep.

“Whatever. Fine, don’t kill the bastard. Here take this,” said the deep voiced “demon” as the eavesdropping kender pictured him in his minds eye. There has a noise, as of something dropping to the ground, followed by another sound that was quite similar. The kender was hoping it was something interesting like an ogre’s head but was quite disappointed when he found out what it really was.

“Shadow armor? What need have I for this? I am a mage I can’t wear this armor!” the higher voiced “assassin mage” grew louder at the thought of wearing the shadow armor for the job.

“Have your guards wear it you fool!” the “Demon” bellowed. “ Here is your item. The Ring of Invisibility. It took long hours of debating to get the High Dragon Council to release it but there it is.” Chuckling the “demon” turned from the mage and hastily departed out the back end of the alley.

Quickly the kender dove behind a nearby crate and watched as the mage walked out into the light. He was tall, of course to the kender most creatures were tall. He appeared to be human, with black hair hanging about his shoulders, and definitely a mage from what the kender saw. His blue robes were all the evidence needed, but when he vanished from sight, that clenched it.

Walking out of the alley the kender thought it best to tell his friend, a Silver Knight, of what he heard. But not before he went shopping.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

The relief guard stood tall, he was an older man, in the knighthood for many years. A respected veteran and skilled swordsman, he now took the day to relax and go on guard duty. The older knight had bushy white eyebrows and a thin, neatly trimmed, graying beard that covered a wrinkled and jolly face. He was a little less than six foot, just shorter than the younger knight standing across him was. The older knight’s eyes sparkled a stunning blue, an almost unnatural color. He reached out his gauntleted hand and firmly grasped the younger knight’s hand. The strength in his grip was alarming for someone of his advanced years.

“How goes your watch Sir Jarwen Avstadar?” the older knight asked releasing his firm shake.

“Lonesome, but now that you are here I will be able to leave. And how does your day go thus far Captain Serge Deverathalas?” The formalities over the conversation relaxed to a friendly chat. “What news do you bring Serge?”

Serge moved to lean against the waist high wall of the watchtower. “Well, as you know our runners have lost the band of Shadow Knights that marched from the city Nathes, just east of us.” Serge sighed hating to go on with the rest of the news.So instead he turned and watched the people bellow going about their business.

Jarwen looked at the older knights back quizzically; he always could tell when Serge was keeping something from him. “What else Serge? I saw it in your eyes that you are leaving something out.” Watching the old knight intently, Jarwen waited for the rest.

Serge began to chuckle and turned to look at Jarwen with a large smile across his face. “I don’t know how you learned to read me so good. Well, this part is rather confusing; our runners last reported seeing some strange lights on the Tasmon Plain. They told us it was the Black Mages that are in league with the Shadow Knights doing some strange magicks. So General Bastin decide to recruit the ‘Whisper Runners’ to find out what the light was.

“The what?” interrupted the younger knight. “What are ‘whisper runners’?

“The elves that have made the alliance with us. The Chekraathas Elves. They sent us a platoon of their best scouts, they call themselves the ‘whisper runners’ because they claim that they are unable to be heard when running” Serge looked at Jarwen to make sure he followed before continuing. “The elves have reported a small black crystal lying on the ground and nothing else. They say the shadow knights are gone!”

Jarwen shook his head in disbelief; no way could a whole squadron of knights just vanish. It must be a trap. He decided to be wary from now until this whole ordeal was settled. “I don’t trust this Serge. You be on the look out for any attacks alright?” Seeing the older man look at him strangely before nodding made Jarwen feel ridiculous. Here he only a full knight for ten months telling Serge to be wary when Serge has been a knight since before he was even born. Shaking his head at the irony of it, Jarwen smiled sheepishly at the other knight before grasping his hand.

“Take care this watch Serge.”

“I will Jarwen. Enjoy your day son.” replied Serge, chuckling at the other knight’s strange attitude.

Jarwen turned his back on the older knight and began his descent down the long ladder leading up to the watchtower. As he climbed down his eyes rose and he gazed upon the sky. The storm was closer. Jarwen never claimed to able to read weather like the clerics but he knew a bad storm when he saw one. Resolving to make the best of the day while he could the knight started of towards the inn, he had made lunch plans with a friend.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

The kender had already put from his mind the alley incident and was making his way into one of the large buildings. He entered a mage ware shop carefully, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The room was large, filled with shelves and glass casings taking up most all the space, barely giving shoppers room to move around. The shop housed all kinds of magical things. It had components for spells such as crushed roses, crystal shards, and magic dust. It sold magic scrolls and spell books, it had wands and staves set up in one corner. Next to the wands were all the enchanted weapons, such as a small throwing axe that when thrown flew back to the owners hand, or the enchanted arrows that could push through any armor. Finally the kender came upon the most prized possessions in the mage ware shop, the rings, amulets, cloaks, and belts, all of which were off by themselves, contained in a glass casing. The little kender reached out to touch one of the rings, just to touch it, but a ward cast over the items stopped him. The ward not only prevented him from touching the items but it prevented him from moving at all! His entire body was stiff, as though the air itself had solidified and formed a prison about him. After standing like this for a moment a tall man walked out and glared at the kender with his hands folded across his chest.

“Oh, hullo, my name is Okushar Lightfoot. Well, Oku for short” said the kender, or at least tried to say. It ended up sounding as though someone had been trying to speak while gagged. Oku began his mumbling again this time asking to be released from his magical imprisonment. Frowning down at the kender, the shopkeeper turned and headed towards the back of the room. Upon return to the case of rings, amulets, cloaks, belts, and one kender, the keeper held a small pendant. The shopkeeper got down on one knee and placed the pendant into a small indention on the underside of the display case. With a quick twist of the pendant the magic spell was broken and the kender was freed from the invisible bonds.

The keeper grabbed the kender as soon as he was free. Jerking him roughly, the keeper turned Oku towards the door. With a quick warning never to enter the shop again he shoved the kender towards the exit.

Oku stumbled forward, a little startled by the keep's abruptness. Turning back he yelled to the shopkeeper. “You are a very rude man! Only one person I have ever met was ruder than you…Well maybe two, but the first was named Tilk Firehammer, a mountain dwarf who had a filthy mouth. Why, old Tilk could make a sailor blush! Which I don’t understand why you would want a sailor to blush? I guess a sailor blushing is just not a common thing? What do you...” Oku ducked just as one of the magic daggers the shopkeeper was displaying whizzed by his head narrowly missing him.

“Next time I won’t miss little thief” growled the keeper in a low sinister voice.

Deciding that staying in the mage ware shop could prove to be hazardous to his health Oku turned and jogged to the door. Just as he was about to leave a glimmer caught his eye. At first he thought it was one of the gold bands holding his topknot in place, but upon further investigation it proved to be something much more interesting. It was a small dagger. It looked like one of the enchanted daggers that the mage had displayed in his cases in the back. The dagger, Nights Lance as the label named it, had a hilt made entirely of dark jewels such as sapphires and black opals. It was an ornately designed dagger, the blade made of obsidian. As the kender read on further down the label he noticed where the dagger received its name. The dagger was imbued with two charms; the first and original enchantment gave the owner the ability to make the dagger invisible. Now this was not a extremely powerful invisibility spell so if someone happened to look at the silhouette of the person holding the dagger they would see that the shadow held something in its hand that was not seen when looked directly at the person. The second spell, which was added years later by a powerful mage who carried the weapon, enabled the owner to throw the dagger and upon saying the command word ‘return’ the dagger would materialize in the owners hand.

Oku pulled his owner dagger from his belt and looked at the smooth wood handle, rubbed his hand along the shiny blade. His dagger, which he lovingly termed ‘Rabbit’s Bane’, had been with him for almost 4 months now. An all-time record for Oku. Sighing to himself he pulled out his lock picking set, a birthright once a kender reaches the age of 18. He pushed one of the thin pieces of metal into the lock, then carefully selected another. Sliding the second pick above the first he gave it a careful push and then twisted. Click. The glass lid popped up, without a second thought Oku reached down and grabbed the magical knife. He was about to grab the scabbard for it but at that moment there was a shout from near the back of the room. Looking up Oku decided it was time to go as an infuriated shopkeeper came bounding towards him waving his massive fists. With unbelievable speed the kender turned and made a hasty retreat to the door of the shop. Bursting out the door Oku ran into the thick of the crowd. Moments later the little thief was lost to sight, lost in a sea of people.

 

[Dredger]

Chapter 1
Living Shadows​

The man sat in a dark corner of the Horse and Carriage Inn, he leaned further into the hard wooden chair, wrapped his black robes tighter around his body. He watched from his darkened corner as a few patrons moved around the bar. Some talking, telling stories of heroic deeds done in past times, others drowning their troubles in a tall glass of ale. The inn’s main room was large, one of the largest in all the city of Dernshelm. It was kept relatively clean, if not of noble stature, and filled with wooden chairs and stools. The Horse and Carriage was just a place for the average working man to come and listen to music while downing a few drinks. A place for a weary traveler with few steel in his pocket to come and spend the night on a warm mattress. The black robed figure was waiting for someone, he had found out ahead of time that that person had made plans to come here. He relaxed and waited.

Not many people bothered him. Though he was unsure of whether they feared the sinister look of him or lost him in the shadows that enshrouded his body.
However, one brave waitress did approach him.

“What can I get you sir?” asked the waitress in a timid voice. Her eyes sparkled a dazzling emerald green as she looked down at the black robed traveler, waiting for his response.

“What is your name?” His voice was deep yet, it had a gentle ring to it as well. Leaning forward he stared into those emerald green eyes.

“Marlene sir” a lump came in her throat making it hard to swallow, she took a step back before she realized what she was doing. Willing herself not to be frightened by the dark man she forced her feet to carry her forward, closer to him. “Now I would ask your name kind sir, but from the look of you, you seem unsociable. What may I get you sir?” she replied, a little more sarcastically than she intended. She stared at him, hands on hips until he finally replied.

“I will have an Elven Red Wine please.” Smiling at her he dropped a steel coin into her outstretched hand. She stared at the coin for a moment before nodding seemingly satisfied she went to retrieve his drink.

The man watched her walk away. He chuckled and shook his head, he enjoyed playing with the minds of the naive. Putting a small thought into one’s head and sitting back to observe what their mind turns it into was one of his favorite past-times. As the black robed man looked about the room he noticed a small huddle of men playing daggers. Daggers, a game similar to darts, where you throw small knives at boards to see who can come closest to the center, was a common game played at inns. Deciding to have a little fun while he waited for his guest the dark man stood up and began to make his way to the dagger table. On the way he stopped at the bar and told Marlene the waitress to cancel his wine, tossing her two coppers for her troubles. Now that that was taken care of he proceeded towards the dagger game. Reaching the table he rested his palms on it and waited for the bet-taker to take his wager. The man across the table turned to take the bet of the new comer.

“Will you play?” he asked with a bored air about him, as though he had been doing this for hours on end. The black robed man nodded. “Name and how much you wager, your opponent will be randomly drawn in a moment.”

“Kiratahas Feldmon, I wager thirty steel pieces.” Came the cold reply from the black robed man.

“Kirathas huh? Remove your hood so I may look upon your face” stated the bet-taker. “Oh, and one more thing…Leave your hood off during the match, it is impolite to hide your face from your opponent. Ok?”

Kirathas nodded. He slowly pulled down the black hood that covered his head and hid his face in shadows. His long silver hair came down his back in a ponytail that ended just below his shoulders. Kirathas had a face that many girls would have died for, it was sharp and chiseled like stone, yet held a softness as though it were made of silk. Yes, girls tried their hardest to catch Kirathas’ eye, that is why he kept his face hidden. He found something that he loved, that he needed. Magic. He was asked a price for it, he was asked for his beauty. All his life he used his looks and personality to get ahead. Now he was told to keep his face hidden as much as possible until the one who gave him the extensive knowledge of magic that he now holds deemed he was worthy of once again showing his face. To be sure that Kirathas would hide his face whenever possible he was given a “gift” of red eyes. They were a deep red; his eyes resembled pools of blood more than anything else. And the worst part by far was that, not only the pupils were red, but the entire eye was red, you could see nothing but blood red glazing his eyes. His own eyes disgusted Kirathas and so he did as the granter of his dream wanted, he hid his eyes.

The bet-taker recoiled from the sight of Kirathas’ eyes. Quickly taking down the bet information he bid Kirathas to leave his sight. Kirathas willingly obeyed moving once again into the darkest spot of the daggers area. After a few moments of watching an announcer declared that Kirathas and a fellow named Triska would play next. Kirathas slowly made his way towards his designated dagger board. Weaving in and out of the players and spectators he finally reached it. Leaning against a nearby table, Kirathas waited for his opponent to appear so he could size up the competition. He was about to turn to leave, thinking his opponent had given up, when a young maiden dressed in rangers clothes appeared at the board next to him. He stared at her wide-eyed. She was absolutely beautiful! She had long golden hair that fell around her shoulders and hung down below her waist, covering the deep green and browns of the ranger uniform she wore. Her face was smooth like silk, her lips full and lovely.
After a moment of gawking Kirathas snapped out of the trance he had seemingly entered. Regaining his composure he asked the lady her name.

“Triska” she replied. “Did you not hear the announcer Kirathas?” she asked as an amused smile split her face. Smiling sheepishly Kirathas shrugged before turning back to face his board. Watching her from the corner of his red eye, he saw Triska produce two leather cases from one of the belts she wore at her waist. He watched closely as she drew one long dagger from each of the two cases.

“Special made?” Kirathas asked in a calm voice.

Smiling she respond just as calmly and nonchalant as him, “yes. The smithy Duncan Steelring made them, then I took them to the blue wizard Trastin Cardael and had him enchant them. They are named ‘Long Teeth’.”

“Those are the longest ‘daggers’ I have ever seen. Give them another inch and they would be classified as short swords. What enchantment did Master Cardael put on them?”

“Master?” she asked. “You are a mage then? A black mage by the look of your wardrobe. Yes, well Trastin placed dragon’s blood on the daggers. Supposedly they can pierce a dragons thick scales now, but I have never tried and I hope I am never close enough to try.” Triska added the latter with a slight laugh. Kirathas thought her laugh sounded like a choir of angels. “Shall we proceed with the game master mage?” she questioned.

Waking from another of his daydreams about the mysterious Triska, Kirathas replied “certainly ladies before gentlemen as my father used to say.” He watched her intently as she prepared to throw her first long dagger. Like a deer running through the forest her motions were swift and graceful, she pulled her arm back behind her head used her left hands as a sort of sight and let the dagger fly. The dagger landed in the bull’s eye. Kirathas stood there amazed, indeed he had not expected such skill from a woman, even a though she was a ranger. Still he had faced others of greater accuracy and the outcome was almost always in his favor. He moved to the line on the floor from which he would be throwing, standing there for a moment he concentrated on the dead center of the dagger board. He made a mental picture of that exact spot on the board, he burned it into his memory. Kirathas took a deep breath, both hands hung straight down by his side. With a slight shake of his right hand a silver dagger slid free from one of the three leather straps that he had wrapped around his forearm. In one quick fluid motion the dagger came up and was released. The knife flew straight and true sinking deep into the target board right next to Triska’s dagger, into the very center of the board. He glanced over at Triska to see her wide-eyed and staring at the dagger as it still quivered in the board. A smug smile split Kirathas’ face, he quickly hid it though when Triska looked over at him.

Both players walked forward to retrieve their daggers from the target. Triska placed her long dagger back in its case and set it down beside the other case holding her other specially forged dagger. Kirathas pulled his dagger free from the board and with a fast snap of his wrist the dagger vanished up the right sleeve of his black robe. He turned his back on the board and made his way back to the mark on the floor. Standing behind it he went through the same procedure as before memorizing the spot and burning into his minds eye. He shook his hand the dagger slid down into his palm, he flung his hand outstretched before him, was about to release the dagger when someone walked into the inn. It was the blue robed mage he had been waiting on. His concentration broke, Kirathas’ dagger flew a bit wobbly causing it to miss the center of the board.
Next to him Triska squealed and nearly jumped for joy. All she had to do was make the dagger near the bull’s eye and she would win. She wasted no time quickly releasing the dagger she hit the center and smiled at Kirathas triumphantly. Smiling back he walked to the bet table and watched her collect the money she won. Glancing up at her he could only think of how beautiful she was, but he had pressing matters to attend. Someday he would find this lovely ranger and adventure with her, but not now. Kirathas reached out his hand, took hers and gently kissed it before bidding her farewell. He turned from her, pulled up the hood on his black cloak, and once again hid his face in the darkness of its folds.
He walked back to the corner of the inn where he had been sitting earlier. Sitting himself in the same wooden chair he hid in the shadows that surrounded the corner. Watching from his seat he saw the cerulean blue robed mage make his way to a table followed closely by two eleven bodyguards, both of whom where wearing shadow armor. Kirathas smiled to himself as he sat waiting for the last person to arrive, he was on the road for another long and dangerous adventure.
* * * * * * * * * * *

The Horse and Carriage was not far, but of course when you are in full armor your muscles can become quite exhausted. Jarwen was sweating even worse now that he had to walk the crowded streets in this blazing sun while wearing his thick Trennorian armor. Strange, he thought as he walked the white paved streets, no one seemed to have noticed the massive storm clouds rolling in. Deciding that the people were doing as he was, trying to enjoy as much of the day as possible, Jarwen kept moving down the road. After what seemed a lifetime of trudging down the crowded streets in the blistering heat, Jarwen saw the sign for the Horse and Carriage. He smiled to himself eager to get inside where it was shady and rest his aching feet, and pushed on with a new found energy.
Reaching the base of the stairs to the Horse and Carriage Inn Jarwen decided to stop and take a short rest before attempting the steep climb that was now the only obstacle between him and the inn. Seating himself on one of the bottom stairs he looked about wondering when his small friend would be joining him. He was probably inside already, he thought. But then a thought crossed his mind, Oku was a kender, he was probably out ‘finding’ stuff. Jarwen stood, half tempted to go and search for the little kender. After a moment of consideration Jarwen decided that he would be better off letting the kender find him. He could spend all day searching for Oku and never find him in Dernshelm. He looked up to the sun, it was shining bright as if to defy the storm that would soon overtake it. Smiling at the sun’s persistence Jarwen turned and began to make his way up the stairs to the Horse and Carriage Inn.
* * * * * * * * * *
Oku could see the Horse and Carriage from the road he was now walking down. He was slowly making his way towards the inn, for he did agree to meet his friend Jarwen there for lunch. His walk was a slow one because all the pockets and pouches the kender had were full to the point of bursting. Oku had ‘found’ many interesting objects on his way to the inn and of course his kender blood made him pocket them all.

Oku began to think of how much easier and faster he would arrive at the inn if the streets were larger, or maybe fewer people were in the city. That got him thinking about the massive storm moving in and why people wouldn’t be at home trying to get ready for it. Then he began to think of flying in a storm, wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch the lightning as you flew by. The small kender began wondering, could you actually take a bottle with you, put some of the storm in it and take a baby storm home in a bottle to set on your mantle? He shook his head forgetting about the storm, and found himself at the base of the stairs to the inn. Looking up he saw Jarwen closing the heavy wooden door behind him as he entered the inn. Oku slowly trudged up the steps weighed down by the contents of his many pouches, encumbered, as he was, it made for a difficult climb.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Kirathas watched as the blue mage touched a white ring that he wore on his ring finger. As soon as the blue mages fingers left the ring he vanished. Hmm, thought Kirathas, he must have a shadow gate ring, no, that can’t be it, if it was a shadow gate spell a gateway would have appeared. A ring of invisibility perhaps. Deciding that it must be the latter Kirathas turned his attention to the two elven bodyguards wearing the shadow mail. They both slunk back into dark corners of the inn, and using the powers of the shadow armor both were lost to sight. Well not to all sight, if he had been an elf he would have seen the body heat radiating from all three of the hidden characters. But seeing how he was no elf and he did not have any night vision spells on hand he would just wait to see what happens.
Shrugging his shoulders Kirathas turned his attention to the front of the room. At that moment the door swung open and a silver booted foot stepped into the inn, followed by a man wearing silver armor.
* * * * * * * * * *

Jarwen entered the inn breathing a sigh of relief. The inn was much darker than out side, the air had a dampness to it that was comforting. He quickly glanced around the room. Noticing that Oku had not arrived yet Jarwen decided to go over to one of the nearby wooden tables and wait. He took a few steps and stopped. Something was wrong. Reaching his right hand down to his left hip he grabbed the hilt of his sword and began to draw it from its scabbard. Before the blade could be drawn two elves seemingly leaped from the shadows and attacked the knight. With reflexes honed through years of training in the Silver Knights garrison, Jarwen dropped to the floor narrowly missing the short sword of one of the two assassins. Jumping to his feet he turned to face the other elf. Jarwen reached to his scabbard again, but this time he grasped air instead of the hilt of his sword. His sword lay many feet away, apparently lost during the tumble. The elf brought his sword down heading for Jarwen’s head planning to split it like a rotten melon when suddenly he stopped. A blue mage appeared, sitting at one of the tables not far from where the battle was taking place, he stared at the elf frowning.

“Damn you! I told you he is not to be killed! Do I have to do everything myself?” roared the blue mage.

Jarwen took this opportunity while the two cohorts exchanged words to retrieve his sword. His body was already exhausted and he knew that if he did not finish the battle soon he would lose. With a quick glance around the room he looked for help in the patrons, all of which were just average men trying to stay out of the quarrel. Shaking his head in despair Jarwen charged towards the lone elf hoping to take him out while the other elf and the blue mage bickered. He swung hard at the elf’s waist, which the elf easily deflected with a small downward stroke of his short sword. Trying once again to overwhelm the elf with brute force the knight lunged for the elf’s heart, but before he actually connected he changed tactics and pulled his knee up burying it deep into the chest of the elf. The force of the blow sent the elf flying into one of the tables. Landing on it he broke the table in two, Jarwen watched closely and when he was sure the elf was not getting up he turned his attention to the mage and other elf. Breathing deeply he sank to one knee. He was exhausted. He could not even stay on his feet. Jarwen crawled towards the wall on his knees. Using the wall for support he forced his legs to pick him up, he would not be taken cowering on his knees. He would fight until the very end.

The door burst open with a resonating boom. Oku looked around and was about to yell out ‘sorry’ when he noticed his friend up against the wall. Quickly analyzing the situation the kender looked for those who had been attacking Jarwen. Finding them to be an elf and blue mage he moved in to help the Trennorian Knight. Oku pulled out the new dagger he ‘found’ while he was out to day, as he inched closer to Jarwen.

The mage smiled at the knight’s ‘hero’ kender. He started to chant and move his arms to form intricate symbols. Opening his eyes wide he pointed one finger at Jarwen and finished the spell that would end this skirmish. A yellow light shot from the blue mages hand and raced towards Jarwen. Just as the light was about to enter his body it stopped. Some sort of magical shield was absorbing the magic like a sponge absorbs water.

Kirathas stepped up his black hood drawn low over his face hiding it from sight. He began to laugh at the stupefied look that crossed the blue’s face.
“You are a cowardly sorcerer. Using magic like that on a poor defenseless knight.” Kirathas called mockingly. “I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t know where your magic went.” he began chuckling. “Why, I drained it of course. Come. Try your magicks on me. I can see that you can fight a defenseless knight now try to challenge a master mage.”

“I have no business with you” called the blue mage. “Now step aside and let me finish my work.”

Kirathas smiled. “Come now, do you really think I will let you take him?” he asked pointing to the knight against the wall. “I think not!” As he said this, a crimson burst of energy shot from his hand heading towards the blue mage. At the last possible second the blue throw up a shield which deflected the shot. The blue began to smile thinking that this black mage was not as powerful as he first thought. The two began to exchange spells neither really gaining the upper hand in the battle of magicks.

While this was going on Oku was trying to help Jarwen into a nearby chair. Just as Jarwen sank into the hard wooden seat an elf wearing shadow mail walked over towards him. Oku held his small dagger in his hand, remembering the enchantments on it he whispered “invisible” and the dagger disappeared. He could still feel the weight of it in his hand and the shape of the hilt resting in his palm, but he could not see it.

“Stay back!” cried Oku. “I have a powerful magic artifact and I will use it.”

The elf laughed. “Little vermin move away from the knight and I might let you live.”
Oku shrugged, smiled at the elf and threw the invisible dagger. It sank deep into the left shoulder of the elf. After a moment the dagger became visible, a black hilt sticking from the elf’s shoulder. “Well, I warned you didn’t I?” called the kender, his face the perfect persona of an innocent child.

With a pained grunt the elf pulled the dagger free, knelt down, and picked up his fallen short sword. Breathing heavily he ran at the kender hell bent on killing him. When the elf was just feet from the kender a foot flew up from nowhere and hit him square in the jaw. Losing his equilibrium the elf fell to the floor. Above him knelt a woman dressed in greens and browns she had long golden hair and a long dagger held to the elf’s throat. In one fast movement she grabbed the elf by the head gave a quick jerk and let go. The elf was dead his neck broken.
Oku stared at the woman. “Who are you?” he asked warily. “Have you come to hurt Jarwen also?”

“No,” she replied, “I am Triska and I am just helping out.”

Oku nodded and stood about to retrieve his dagger lying on the floor when he remembered the return command. Looking over to Triska to be sure she was watching he whispered “return” and held out his hand. Immediately a dagger materialized in his palm. Smiling at Triska Oku wiped the blood off the blade with the shirt of the dead elf and returned the knife to his belt. Oku was just about to tell her an embellished tale of how he got the dagger, one involving dragons and golems when there was a loud crash behind them.

Kirathas was still battling the blue mage, who looked on the verge of collapsing. While Kirathas on the other hand looked as though he had just begun battling.

“Time to finish this” Kirathas yelled.

“You are right master mage” replied the blue a mocking tone placed on the last two words. “Goodbye”. The blue reached inside his robe and pulled out a small amulet, he quickly said a few words and then his image began to waver and became insubstantial. It seemed as though he was just waking from a dream, not totally in this world but not fully out of the dream yet. Right before the blue mage vanished he tossed a scroll on the floor and called out. “We will meet again Kirathas Feldmon. Read the scroll. The outcome will be different next time. ” With that his insubstantial image dissipated, leaving a watery mist that hung in the air where the blue mage had once stood. A few moments later the mist vanished to. Reaching down Kirathas picked up the scroll. He moved away from the knight and unrolled it. The words were written in a clear precise penmanship, as though written by a scribe. The neat handwriting read:

“ To Kirathas,
I had this written by one of my trusted scribes just incase you intervened in my mission. I was warned that your presence should be expected. The seer’s foresaw this in a vision. I had not wanted to believe them, but this clenches it. You have forsaken your heritage and your order; the High Dragon Council will be most displeased. Though it pains me to say this ‘Master’ I will overcome you. You have but prolonged the inevitable, in the end we will win.
I do not know the council’s plans for the young knight. All I do know is that his life is not a top priority to them. They are after his medallion; he was wanted alive for questioning.

We will meet again, if I know you as I believe I do. I would love to tell you where I am headed but it has been forbade. You are smart though, and I am sure you will figure it out. I miss you teacher, your lessons were quite beneficial and it pains me to say this but, the next time we meet the student will be the teacher, I will be victorious.

Farewell master, don’t make me wait too long.

Your Prized Pupil,
Parshin Blackstar

P.S. The council was most upset by your sudden departure; it will hurt your father even more to find proof that you have forsaken his love. Yet, I was instructed to report to the council my entire incident with the knight, which includes the roll you played. Take care master, and think well of your apprentice until next we meet.

Kirathas sighed and rolled the scroll up, slid it into one of the inner pockets of his black robe and turned to stare at the knight Jarwen. What do they need your medallion for, he thought. What plan has the council made that would involve this particular heirloom?

He slowly made his way back to the small crowd surrounding the knight. Pushing his way to the center of the group he knelt beside Jarwen.

“He is injured but only slightly” informed Triska.

“Move let me see his wound” Kirathas responded, moving closer to the knight. Triska showed him the wound. A long but shallow swipe down the knights chest. It should heal in a few days. Kirathas looked closer, the skin was puffy and white all around the wound. He reached up and placed his hand on Jarwen’s head. He was burning up with fever. “Take him to the see the clerics!” he yelled loudly. “Hurry! There was poison on the elf’s blade! He must see a cleric!” Standing, Kirathas began to push the people surrounding the knight back. After the crowd had moved out of the path he chose four men to carry the knight to the Clerist Palace.

“Triska, I am going ahead to warn the clerics, you and the kender go and help get the knight to the palace as fast as you can.

Nodding, Triska turned, grabbed Oku by the arm and ran out of the inn, quickly followed by the four men carrying the knight. Kirathas could hear the ranger and kender shouting at the people to make room. Hoping that they were not already to late he turned and began to recite a spell. He moved his arm in the outline of a doorframe and as he did, a black vortex appeared in front of him. Kirathas stepped into the darkness and closed the portal.

A black gateway appeared out of nowhere, slowly a man clad in black robes emerged from the swirling vortex. Kirathas was in an immense hall, the white walls were made from beautiful marble. Kirathas turned, he was surrounded by a platoon of Trennorian knights, each of which had their swords at the ready.

“Wait,” He yelled throwing up his hands to show they were empty hoping that the knights took it for a sign of peace instead of hostility. “I need help, I have a friend on his way a Silver Knight who has been cut with a tainted blade. Please gather a few healers and help him.” Kirathas pleaded. He waited as the captain of the platoon mulled over what he said. After a moment he called one of his men to him, and ordered him to go find the high cleric. The man took of running in search of the priest. Kirathas breathed a sigh of relief.

“Who is he?” asked the captain.

“The knight?” replied Kirathas. The captain nodded. “It is Jarwen Avstadar. He was attacked at the Horse and Carriage Inn.”

The captain stared at the mage, finally nodding his head. Suddenly there where shouts and commotion coming from outside, the knights turned and ran to see what was happening. Kirathas followed hoping that the high priest would soon be found. He found himself walking down an empty hall. It was in the shape of an arch, with wonderfully crafted white marble walls. The work was flawless, the walls seemingly made of one giant slab of marble, there were no seems in-between the pieces of stone. Dwarfish work Kirathas decided after a moment of thought. He continued on down the long hallway looking at the intricate paintings that covered the walls as he walked. The paintings depicted great feats that the clerics of old accomplished. There were a few paintings of the Night Wars, a battle when the clerics helped fend off the death knight Kura Doomslayer as he tried to destroy the Academy’s of Sorcery. Kirathas was a young man during that time; the painting brought back painful memories of his mother’s death. She died protecting him from Kura as he attacked the academy.

Kirathas shook his head, trying to shake away the dark memories, and quickened his step. Moving faster down the hall of the Clerics Palace it seemed to Kirathas that the eyes of the paintings were following him everywhere he moved. Becoming sick of the paintings and the hall he stopped cast the gateway spell and stepped through the black swirling vortex.

The Silver Knights crowded around their wounded comrade. Jarwen had been laid on the soft grass surrounding the Clerist’s Palace. His breathing was heavy and labored, the High Cleric would need to heal him soon or the poison would soon take his young life. A crackling noise sounded behind the cluster of knights, turning they saw the black mage emerge from his gateway. Kirathas ran towards the knights.

“Where is the High Cleric?” he shouted as he made his way towards the cluster of knights.

“I am not sure” replied the captain. “My messenger has not returned.”
Just after the words left the captain of the platoon’s mouth there came a shout from the entrance to the palace.

“I am here” called the High Priest. “Where is the knight? Move! Clear a path, I can’t heal with you all gawking at him.” The High Priest was an older man with a gentle face and snow white hair. He was wearing a white robe with gold symbols intricately stitched into the hem. Upon his head sat a gold diadem inlaid with fine jewels. All of the gold and fine clothes that he wore were in sharp contrast to the unadorned dragon claw staff that he carried in his right hand.

The High Priest knelt beside Jarwen and started to pray. A blue light began to emanate from his hands as he beseeched Fali the goddess of healing. Moving slowly the High Priest placed his glowing hands over the heart of the poisoned knight. As he continued to pray for the healing gift Jarwen moaned. Suddenly the light was gone. The priest grabbed his dragon staff and began to rise from his knees. He turned to look at Kirathas standing to the side of Jarwen. “He will be fine.” the High Priest stated, “ the poison had not spread as much as you had thought mage. The best thing for him now is rest.” Having said this the High Priest turned and walked back into the clerist’s palace.

At the direction of one of the priests of Fali three men picked up Jarwen and carried him to one of the rooms in the palace where he could rest in peace. Kirathas wrapped his black robes closer to him and moved to stand next to Triska.

“ I thank you m’lady for helping save the life of Jarwen Avstadar” said Kirathas softly, almost in a whisper.

Triska stared up into the dark hood hiding Kirathas’s face before replying “I am honored to help a Silver Knight.” She began to chew her lower lip as though debating whether or not to go on.

“What is it Triska?” questioned the black mage. “Why the odd look?”
“I know this is not my business Master Mage,” she began, “but what were you doing at the Horse and Carriage, I mean what brought you there?”

Kirathas waited a moment before answering. “Lucky timing, maybe I knew of the plot,” he paused, gathering his thoughts, “maybe fate lead me there. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious I guess.”

“Did my answer quench your curiosity?”

“Not quite,” replied Triska. “What are your plans now Kirathas?”

“Where is the kender?” Questioned Kirathas turning to look for Oku. “What is worse than a missing kender?”

Reaching out a slender hand Triska rested it lightly upon the mages arm. “Why do you change the subject?”

“Alas, I cannot tell you my plans at this time.” Kirathas grabbed the soft hand of Triska in his own and held it. “Maybe. Maybe after I talk to Jarwen you may hear of my plans, but not before.” Pulling her hand to his mouth he kissed it before letting it drop back down to her side. With a slight nod Kirathas turned and departed whispering something about missing kenders.

Triska stood alone on the front lawn of the High Clerist’s Palace. Today had been quite a confusing day for her. Running her fingers through her hair she recounted all the days occurrences. This did seem to be the beginning of a wonderful adventure, but what of her fellow rangers, could she just leave them like this? Her thoughts swam in her head all of them mixing together, becoming muddled. Would Dirk, captain of the Lost Rangers, understand? What would Dirk do if he were in my position? Looking off to the horizon she could hardly see the setting sun anymore. Making up her mind she walked into the clerist’s palace and began to search for an empty room that she could sleep in for the night. Tomorrow would be an interesting day for all.

 

[Reraeb Yek]

Wow! I've only skimmed it over briefly because I have to go soon, but it looks great. Finally, a fanfiction with actual promise. I haven't seen one of those in a long while.

 

[Dredger]

Well I hope when you get the chance to read it you are still interested. I look forward to hearing your opinions soon.

If people are interested I have finished Chapter Two: Unexpected News and have begun on Chapter Three: A Stab in the Dark.
We will see if people take a liking to it, if so there will be more.

Till then thank you and enjoy.

 

[Dredger]

Just gonna have to bump this back to the top. I know it isn't KH or an Anime story but give it a shot. It isn't that long, I have faith in your abilities to read it.!!! Meow go read away