ONE SECOND LATER
VEK
Tell me why I had to be a powerslave
I don’t want to die, I’m a god, why can’t I live on?
When the life-giver dies, all around is laid waste
And in my last hour I’m a slave to the power of death
-POWERSLAVE, Iron Maiden
The bars were slowly pushing Kizzlorn under the water, along with the gasping, panicking Garren. She shook them, kicked at the wall, and thought as quickly as she could. Nothing was going to work, she could see- they were going to be submerged within another ten seconds. The lich stood above them, laughing with his cold voice.
She glared up at him with blazing eyes. “You can’t do this.”
“Can, and am,” the laughing black armored thing said.
She squeezed her head between two bars as they began to touch the water. She felt the water climb up around her ears and towards her mouth. “I swear it now, I WILL reclaim my father’s castle, you monst-“
The bars pushed her underwater. Her hands grasped the air above and her mind turned on ideas an plans as fast as she could think, and none would work. Her entire party was dying. Abruptly, she felt herself moved downwards. A roaring noise came to her ears, and she found herself laying on the bottom of the pool. Water rushed around her and was gone. She gasped for breath, as did her friends around her. Orthos and Ziad especially coughed and sputtered. They’d been pulled under instantly, and very nearly died. They lay about at the bottom of the thirty foot deep pit, which was coated in algae.
“I’m sorry,” the lich said, taking his hand from a lever. “Did you say your father?”
She looked up in confusion and let her hand creep to her belt to grab a spell component. “Yes, my father. I am called Kizzlorn Spellforge.”
“My most sincere apologies, my lady,” he said with the sound of smile in his voice. “I am Sir Vek Mormont. Why, curse my soul, is that Nanny?” He looked down at the moistened shield guardian with delight. “It is!”
“How do you know Nanny?” Kizz didn’t trust him at all, but this was certainly better than drowning.
“I helped build him,” Vek said. “Oh, this is most fortunate. I’ve been looking for those.” He gestured down into the pit. The party looked down and found they were lying on a carpet of slime-slicked bones.
The pensive party were helped out of the pit and led down the hallway. “Walk where I walk,” Vek said. “Touch nothing.”
They came to a large room where Vek turned and spoke cordially. “So. A Spellforge child. I suppose it’s about time, eh? How old are you?”
“I am seventeen.”
“My word. I rarely pay attention to the passing of years, so its occasional reminders do surprise me. How is your father?”
Kizz looked at him with a wounded glance. “You don’t know? Seems to me that a friend of my father’s would know he’s been dead the last sixteen years.”
“Dead,” Vek repeated without changing his amused tone. “How?”
“He went off to fight the white wyrm of the North and never returned.”
This time his tone did change, to alarm. “They went to fight Acessiwal?! Why didn’t they contact me?”
“Uh… I believe my aunt Kyla sent invitations to other heroes they’d known from around the Flanaess.”
Vek understood. He whispered low, in a very cold voice. “Kyla. Too proud to stand side by side and fight with me, if she could help it. A curse on Pelor and his flock.”
Orthos, nearby, hissed through chattering teeth. “A-a-any chance of drying our c-clothes? I’m ffffreezing here.”
Vek swept into his graceful hostly manner once more. “I apologize once more, master dwarf!” He motioned at a pile of wood in the corner he was keeping aside for a trap, and it burst into flame. “First I try to drown you, now I try to freeze you. I no longer feel cold, so please pardon my inconsideration.” It was indeed very cold down here. The smell of death was rather strong as well.
“So you adventured with my father,” Kizzlorn asked, turning her hands over the fire but never putting her back to the lich.
“Yes. We were the Knights of the Silver Quill. A mighty adventuring group. We won this castle, we saved the world. Tell me, if he didn’t tell you he had a companion he’d left behind in his keep, how did you know there was a keep at all? I mean, you were an infant when he died. How did you learn of your lineage?”
“I found a deed to this castle at the tower of Myriachus the black. The rest I’d heard from my brothers, who were only old enough to hear just a few tales when my parents left us.”
“Brothers, yes,” Vek said, thinking. “Two?”
“Yes, why?”
“An old prophecy. Two boys and a girl. Fiery red hair.”
“I think of myself as strawberry blonde, thank you very much,” she replied dryly. “Our births were foreseen?”
“Yes... A few things were. Your parents had a fortune teller at their wedding, and she told some cheap fortunes that happened to come true. Your births, our battle with Acessiwal, Jettok’s death, my loneliness in undeath (which isn’t SO unbearable, mind you), Kyla’s being ‘called upon again’ by Pelor… did that ever happen, before she died? That and Dartan’s quest for the dragon.”
“Dragon? You mean Acessiwal?”
“No. Some other, a gold dragon by the name of Gorgoldand. Our partymate, Dartan, was obsessed with locating it. He was the last of his original party, and felt some odd pull to complete the quest.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
Kizz and her partymates froze. That’s right- her parents had been part of Gorgoldand’s final adventuring group! Could this “Dartan” be the clue they needed to find him? Someone obsessed with finding him must have had some luck and found out some things they hadn’t.
“Gorgoldand. Where have I heard that name before?” Garren mused aloud.
“He was a rather famous wizard. You could have heard of him. Or you may have just overheard Kizz and I talking about him for the last week,” Orthos laughed.
Kizzlorn cleared her throat and asked “Where can we find Dartan?”
“Forget it. He’s become something of a hermit, to my understanding. Moved to a small hut some miles southeast of here. We don’t keep in contact. Too much of a rivalry, I think. People always were wondering which of us would best the other in combat. After the party broke up, I think he may have fled in fear,” Vek laughed.
“Tell us how to find him,” Kizz said, sounding perhaps more commanding than she’d intended to.
“I see that old familiar spark in your eye. Just like your mother, you are. Except, of course, you’re not dead.” He laughed again.
Kizzlorn darkened. “Do not joke about my mother’s death.”
“Why not? All life is a joke, and death comes to us all.”
They left Spellforge Keep that night with dry clothes, feeling refreshed, if not entirely comfortable with having met Vek Mormont. His creepy presence made one’s skin feel like it was trying to peel off.
“I’m glad to be away from HIM,” Ziad said after some miles had passed away.
Kizzlorn looked straight ahead as they walked. “I’m going to invite him into the group.”
The others stared at her. “WHAT?! Why? We can’t possibly trust him, Kizz! Did you smell him at all? Did you hear him speak? He’s a lich!”
“He’s not evil. I believe this. Besides, if my parents trusted him, that’s good enough for me. We need someone with his power and knowledge. Vek Mormont is a dangerous man”
In the moonlight, the woods were closing in about them. Orthos looked at the map Vek had drawn for them. “According to this, we’re getting pretty close. Just a short while on, and we should find this Dartan’s house.”
“There! Is that it?” Kizzlorn pointed through the woods to a small house in a small clearing. No lights were on.
“Could be,” Garren said. “Looks like he’s not at home. What do we do n… wait, what’s that noise?”
The noise was like a crashing in the branches of the trees above them, to their rear. They whirled, drawing weapons, in time to see a huge log swing horizontally down to them on hemp ropes. It smashed into them, sending them flying. Nanny tipped over with a metal REE-ENK.
Only Garren managed to duck the log, and now turned his head, eyes wide, trying to survey the forest around him. All he saw was the barely moonlit forest floor, and black trunks of trees. Where did the attack come from? He backed up against some shrubbery and yelled, “Are you hurt? Get up quickly, I fear another attack while we’re distracted!”
From the blackness of the huge bush behind him, without a sound, a gloved hand slowly reached forward into the moonlight. It slapped over his mouth like a snake made of lightning. The other hand appeared, holding a razor sharp foot-long hunting knife. It went to Garren’s throat.
Dartan the Godless leaned forward from the darkness into view over Garren’s left shoulder. His face was aged and hardened, all angles. His lower lip curled open as he spoke.
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to come and try to kill me, Jamison.”
More to come…