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TALES OF THE REALM or Simon the Vampire Prelude The time had come. She could sense it. Already a dark essense was flowing into the summoning circle. Black and angry it was. That did not matter to her. She had summoned Demon Lords before. Though this creature was a Greater Demon, it did not come close to the power of a true Demon Lord. She know she would have no problem making it succumb to her will. She held her breath as the essence took shape. Slowly, it began to take on a humanoid figure. Then its image clarified. Standing in the summoning circle was a creature of the night; as black as the new moon. It was masculine in nature, standing roughly 5' 11". Long chestnut- brown hair fell just above sinewy shoulders. Green eyes peered out from deep set sockets. His face glowed with an unhealthy palor from the light of the candles. A simple made tunic dyed a midnight-blue tucked into breeches of the same color. Black, hard leather boots reached up to midcalf, polished to a high sheen. His breathing was non-threatening and void of any emotions. "Do you not wish to contest wills?" Anana asked, curious by the creature's silence. Her only answer was her voice fading to nothingness. She had not expected this kind of response. Still, he would serve her with or without the contest of wills. "Fine," she began, "I want you to destroy an enemy of mine. His name is Flash and he is currently wandering around a countryside of a different world. If you have nothing to say," she trailed off, giving the creature a chance to speak. To her surprise, he did speak. "Go on." he said simply, his voice a low baritone. "I will send you to that world," she finished. "Why?" he asked. "You have assassins of your own world." his tone was calm and unhurried. "Why does not concern you!" she snapped. "The only thing that matters is that I am giving you a choice between serving me or serving Death. Take your pick, creature of the night!" her eyes glowed balefully. "The 'Why' is ultimately my concern. If you want one such as me to do this job, then the foe must be unique." he responded, no inflection in his voice. "If you are doing things on your own, then perhaps the 'why' is your concern. But in this case, it is not. My foe, as you put it, is merely a nuissance that I haven't the time to deal with personally. I will not discuss this any longer. Do my bidding or meet Death!" she had begun to screech in her unearthly voice. "You lie, of course, but for the chance to sate my thirst on human blood again, very well." he smiled cynically. "The blood is not human, but of elvenkind. Return with his dead body or his head. I do not care which." she replied offhandedly. "What do I care? Mortal blood is mortal blood." Without wasting another moment, she began the spell that would send her minion to do her job. Magical forces of energy crackled and enveloped the creature. One moment he was there, the next gone." Anana began to laugh, her manical glee dancing in her eyes. "I will kill Flash," she began to sing off key. ======================================================================== 96 TALES OF THE REALM by Brad Samek Chapter I Witch's Folly The old witch was preparing her spell. 'What fools these young ones be.' she thought to herself. 'All they ever want now is curses, not the love potions and good words that they sought out in days gone by.' But even though each curse added to the weight on her soul, she crafted them for they were her trade and her livelyhood. She took the small stone and placed it in an exact place on the abnormally clean floor. She picked up the small brass urn and the blood-soaked brush. With slow diliberation, she began to trace the mystic symbols that would guard her flesh from the evil she would soon summon. As she finished the complex diagram, she sighed. Soon her eyesight would fail her completely and the villagers would throw her into the pit, stone her, and finally burn her for her sins. It was regretable, but she had cast her lot long ago, when she sold her soul for the dark powers. She took a deep breath and mentally reviewed the incantation to summon yet another Imp, one of the lesser demons. She began the incantation, the force of the Words of Power causing her frail body to tremble. Slowly, a dark presence began to materialize within the circle. Thw witch cried out in dismay, the power she felt was much greater than any mere Imp. She knew the spell to strengthen her ward, but her mind was frozen with terror. The figure within the penticle solidified, giving the old hag a mocking smile that held no hint of softness. The witch, overcome with terror, forced the Spell of Warding from between her locked jaws, but the sounds that emerged from her lips held no power over such a one as this. He stepped forward, shrugging off the protective shell as though it was made spider webs and moonbeams. The witch shrieked, knowing that her time in the mortal realm had ended. The dark figure approached the huddling form of the witch, his stride showing the cool poise of one in complete control of any situation. Between her ragged sobs, the witch spoke, "What do you want of me?" After several tense moments of silence, the witch raised her head. Slowly, almost pwerlessly, she meet the dark one's gaze. She felt her feeble will crubleing to his power. The figures smile deepened slightly. One such as this could aid his search. "Summon your pitiful little Imps, woman. Send them out to find the mortal known as Flash." "But My Lord," she replied in a shaky voice, "he met his doom in the Crystaline Wars. His body was taken by some fiendish flame." "Do not question me again, witch." His voice cut through the thin veil of her composure. She moved back to the ruined Ward. "I will do as you command, but I have not the strength to conjure such beasts, My Lord." He allowed his eyes to narrow slightly. The witch, knowing of such warning signs, hurried to obey. She began the maticulous labor of mending the penticle. But the tears of her terror blurred her vision and the lines were mislaid. Slowly, she set her mind to her task, blanking out all distractions. Her mouth began to emit the foul tongue. The penticle wavered and suddenly a small, devilish form appeared. The little demon's face showed its strain and suddenly the mystic shroud of the faulty penticle burst, freeing the Imp. "My Master awaits thee, witch." The witch knew, at last, that her fate had nothing to do with the Pit. The Imp drained out her soul and the old hag's body burst into green flame. The smell of burnt flesh was strong, but affected the two forms not at all. The Imp turned on the dark one. "Thy soul shalt join hers in the depths of Hell, foolish one." and the demon's laughter echoed evilly into the night. The dark one stood his ground and waited. As the Imp approached, the dark one's smile broadened. "Wilt thou test thy strength against Mine?" he said, using the evil language of the demons. The Imp paused. He had respect only for his dark Master, but this one radiated nothing of fear, only of dominence. The figure appraoched the Imp and stretch out his hand. The Imp tried to flinch away, but some power held him still. As the open hand touched his vile flesh, the agony flared. Never had such pain been felt, even by a minion of Hell. "Never shalt thou interfer with me again, little one, or thou shall feel the full power of mine wrath." Slowly, the demon melted into a foul smoke and an unnatural wind wafted the smoke back through the nether gate. Only when the creature disappeared did the dark one allow his irritation show, a slight narrowing of his eyes. If any who know of his kind had witnessed that subdued reation, they would have felt the burden of uncontrolable terror weigh on their hearts. He had been delayed by the weakness of a witch and the mischeviousness of an Imp. With an easy but controlled motion, he caused the infernal gate to shut. He left the hut and stared up at the moonless night. Obviously, this Flash was a mortal of some small repute. Perhaps others could tell him more. His eyes, unnaturally keen in the twilight, saw a walled town far to the North. Slowly, the figure began to shrink, phazing into another form. After a few moments, a small, dark bird-like form flew up into the night sky, heading for the town to the North. The figure, so prominent moments before, was gone. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 104 Chapter II Arrival at Agnast To the East, the rosy glow was strengthening. Simon realized that the glow was but the fore-runner to day. He flew on, searching for a suitable place. The wench might have mentioned that this world was not locked into perpetual night, he thought with irritation. Simon's discomfort grew, keeping pace with the dawn. Beneath him, to the side of an old fortress, he spied a cave opening. He descended, picking up speed, and darted into the mouth of the cave. instinctively avoiding the minor obsticles. At last, protected from the growing sunlight, he settled down to rest. As the bat landed, a strange blurring formed about it, after a moment the bat was gone, replaced by a gaunt figure of a man. Simon retreated deeper into the cave, casting about for a suitable resting place. As he continued deeper into the cave, he noticed that the walls showed signs of workmanship. As he continued, his keen, shadow-peircing eyes noticed a strange irregularity on the left wall. He studied it for a moment, trying to discern the anomaly. Suddenly, insperation led him. He approached and pushed low on the wall. Creaking with age, the secret door moved aside, revealing a small side passage. His curiousity aroused, Simon followed the narrow path. After several feet, the tunnel opened out into a small, domed chamber. The walls had niches carved out, and within the niches where skeletal figures bound in rags. In the center of the room, upon a large dias, was an ornate sarcophagus. This was something Simon was familiar with, a burial place of the mortals. Simon appraoched the sarcophagus. With inhuman strength, he prised open the top, revealing a moldy human skeleton. He probed the form with senses that no man could understand. This was not, then, one of the undead. Simon moved the skeletal remains to one of the wall niches. He then lowered himself into the crypt and covered it with the stone cover. He allowed himself to relax, the feeling of death only adding to his comfort. In time, he slept. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TIME PASSES ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slowly, Simon rose toward consciousness. The low mummering that awoke him continued. The faint words challenged even his preternatural hearing. "Arise, Great One. The infidels seek to destroy thy works. Awaken, Dark One. Cast the defilers into the Pit." Simon lay quite, listening to the continuous comments for some time. At last, the voice stoped. After a moment, Simon was aware that he lay again in an empty room, devoid of any human. He thrust the massive stone aside and rose. Perhaps this strange encounter could be turned to his advantage. He pondered this as he retraced his path back to the cave entrance. No painful light shone through, blessed night had returned. Simon stared into space. His form blurred, and was replaced by a large wolf. The wolf went out into the night, and headed for the town that lay but a short distance away, the old buildings fading into the night. After a short time, the wolf came within sight of the City Gate. He retreated back into the shadows and sat on his haunches. Soon, Simon, sitting cross-legged on the ground, stood and start off for the Gate. The guards, after a cursory inspection, passed Simon through the gate, warning him of the results of evil deeds. As the distance between Simon and the guards grew, so did his smile. The thought, 'What do such petty creatures know of evil?' echoed through his mind. As he strode through the town, he spied a dark figure running out of an alley. Simon, once again a victim of curiousity, entered the alley. He found the reason for the figures haste, before him lay a human, futiley trying to dam the flow of blood from his stomach. Simon let the other become aware of his prescence. "Easy Friend, How may I aid you?" The man made the effort of focusing his glazed eyes on the pale face. "I fear this wound defeats your good intentions. I wish I could have my revenge him." Simon looked on the form with pity. "I could insure that you survive, Friend, but the cost would be great." The hope flickered briefly in his dying eyes. "Even the greatest Clerics demand a price, but my purse is gone." The man, still able to see the cruel irony of the situation, tried to smile, but grimaced in pain instead. "The price is not material, Friend, but spiritual. You can survive this night, but you will live on as a creature of the night, a Vampire." The man was quite for several fading heartbeats, then "The gods that I have prayed to have abandoned me. I will meet your cost." Simon was careful not to let his surprise show. "That is but the first part of the payment. I will save you, but you will be my liegeman and you will help me in my quest." The man coughed, blood flowing from his mouth. "No man have I called Master since my 'prentice days, but allow me my revenge and I will serve you well." Simon was relieved. He knelt down and gently went about turning the man into a lesser Vampire. Afterwards, he smiled down at the bewildered fellow and helped him gain his feet. The man stood in place, working the muscles in his hands. His mortal body had never known such strength. "Master, I've heard tales of such creatures, but never did I imagine what it be like in truth." Simon smiled at his new-found minion. "Come, let us find you more appropriate apparel. Then, we have much to discuss." The neophite Vampire followed his Master, the look of wonder glowing in his eyes. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 95 Chapter III The Vampire's 'Prentice Simon sat in a private booth at the Glowing Orb Inn. Across the table sat his new-found friend, Dan Drakeson. Simon was beginning to realize how helpful lady luck had been. Dan had chosen this Inn, knowing of its limited patronage consisted mostly of Mages. The Mages, interested in little aside from their research, heeded the pair not at all. His respect for Dan was growing. "What brought you to such dire straits in that alley?" Dan, scanning the room out of habit, meet his master's gaze. "My Lord, have you heard of the Secret Ring?" Simon smirked, "I have heard of many such baubles in my travels, but I arrived only tonight. I don't even know the name of this town." Dan gaped at his friend, "Have you never heard of the Crystalline Wars?" Simon turned his full attention upon his minion, for the old hag had mentioned that Flash meet his fate in that fateful war. "Tell me this tale and let no detail pass unsaid." "As you command, Master, but the telling of that tale will be long and thirsty work." Simon summoned a serving wench and placed the order. Looking back at Dan, he said "I will hear this tale now, and I will tolerate no further delays." Dan bowed his head, "Forgive me, Master. The story startes many years ago, centering on, of all things, a Hobbit, Attilla by name." And so, Dan told the story in its entirety, omitting no known detail. He told of the days of the mighty Empire, lead by Emperior. He spoke of Emperior's downfall at the hands of the Hobbit. He then went into the well-known tale of the Crystaline Wars, of the dread Company and the many Heros of the conflict. Dan noticed his Master's interest at the name Flash. "And now, those who survived have spread far and wide, but we here in Agnast are within sight of the mighty StoneGrip Keep, where Attilla yet resides." Simon sat quite, mulling over this information. He knew that Flash lived, for he felt the compulsion of that black wench, but it seemed common knowledge that Flash meet his doom. Had he faked his death? Or had some Cleric used his arts to bring Flash back? Surely Anana would have made note of that. Simon tuned his awareness back to his surroundings. Dan looked at him thoughtfully, but did not speak. His friend had other information. "What of the Secret Ring?" Dan relaxed, "It is not a bauble, but a group of people. The Ring is a Guild, and its members specialize in assassinations. When young, my father, who was a gifted assassin in his day, placed me in the Guild. I showed a great aptitude for the work and quickly I arose to the Journeyman ranks. But, as my successes grew, so did my ego. By the time I became a Master, I had come to realize that I liked the title GuildMaster better, so I started working to this end. The Guild had become lax and I built around me a circle of confederates. This night, I had planned on assuming the rank of Guild Master, but I was betreyed by one of my henchmen, and my life was forfeit. I escaped, but the Ring's reach is long and I fell victim to it." "True, but it was a rather crude job for professionals. Perhaps you are better off away from them." "Master, you misunderstand. The guards know me as a merchant of some ill repute. Such merchants often have minor altercations that result in such displays, as warnings for the victims cohorts. The Guard will assume that this is but one more, especially after some other false merchant bribes them to keep it quite." Simon smiled. His friend was indeed worthy, "A bribe to cover up a false crime. Such duplicity would challenge the dull mind of a guard. So, what plans do you have for your revenge?" "I will slay those who betrayed me and I will break the Ring asunder." "But such actions would be folly. When evil battles evil, only good prevails. I have other plans. You will discover that you are now impervious to much that was fatel to you before. You must avoid the sunlight, but I think you could succeed in winning the mastery over the guild." Dan enjoyed the thought, "My Lord, most thieves do tend to avoid the sunlight, but will my duties permit me time to run such a Guild?" he asked. "Good, your present duty is to assume mastery of the Guild. Work to that end and let me know of your progress. Here you may find this helpful." Simon hended him a small pouch, made heavy with gold. "Do you understand your new abilities?" Dan nodded his agreement. "Then go and Good Hunting." Dan flashed a truely evil smile at his benefactor and replied, "As my Master commands." He turned and left the Inn, intent upon his mission. Simon sat alone, unmoving, for some time. His information base had grown extensively. Perhaps this secret could be found by a Secret Ring. After some time, Simon left. He headed for the nearest alley. His form became blurred, and disappeared. A large bat went flapping into the night sky. As he flew, Simon spied the old buildings near his new found crypt. There seemed to be some activity, breaking up now that the hours of darkness were coming to a close. Perhaps this could be turned to advantage. He quickly made his way to his resting place. As he relaxed, his smile broadened. He had made a very good start on his mission. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 172 Chapter IV The Secret Sect Once again, Simon's rest was disturbed. "Arise, Dread One, and cast aside those who defile thy birthright." a muffled voice said. Simon remembered the activity from the previous night. He put forth his powers to form an illusion of sound. A hollow voice arose in the chamber, "Who disturbs My rest?" The voice was quite for some time. Perhaps the subjest's fear was too much for it. But the same fear continued to radiate like a palpable force, so the man had remained. At last, the fear deminished somewhat. "It is I, Dread Emperor, Thy most humble servant." Simon remembered Dan's story. Could this one be reffering to the same tyrant that was dispossed by the Hobbit? This could be another benefit. An idea struck him and he put forth his powers again, "Fear not, Faithful One. Speak thy need." "Oh Great Sire, thy kingdom has suffered at the hands of the foul Hobbit. Many of thy works lay as ruins upon the face of the land." With the mention of 'thy kingdom' and 'foul Hobbit,' Simon knew that they thought that this was indeed the crypt of Emperior. They were wrong, of course, one such as Emperior would not be instilled in this hovel, but these mortals allowed their judgement to become cloudy when faced with adversity. Obviously, some of Emperior's henchmen survived and gathered here. Probably one of the more intelligent saw this as a perfect method of increasing his own power, but Simon would soon change that. He thrust at the massive cover of the sarcophagus, moving it to the side. Looking around, he spied a young woman grovelling upon the floor. She was, perhaps, twenty years old, as the humans measured such things, but it was hard to tell for her face was averted. Simon stood, his presence assuming a regal splendor. His face was that of noblity and his stance betrayed an easy power. The girl, glancing at him, was cowed instantly. "Fear not, thy faith be not in doubt. Rise and speak. What has happened in mine absence?" Simon found the archaic mode of speech troublesome when not using the tongue of demons, but he must match her visualization. The girl spoke at great length. Her tale matched Dan's in many respects, but some details were different. She spoke of the Reconstruction, mentioning the bizzare religious sects and the perverse public displays. Her tale then followed the Crystalline War, but in this version, Attilla rode in the fore, leading the Company to ravish the countryside. The people had been mezmerized by the power of the Crystal and forgot the true enemy, Attilla. Simon listened to the story. His trained ear could tell by her voice that this was an oft-repeated saga. Then he realized her age, she would have been but a child during the fall of the Empire. The older ones must teach this tale to all of the young. "Who leads the Faithful now, girl?" "Thy servant Brandor, High Priest of Bane, My Lord." Simon caught a slight tremor in her voice. Why was the girl afraid of a Priest? Or did she still fear him? He met her gaze, "Speak, girl, why dost thou fear thy Priest?" He used his gaze to make a slave of her will. "My Lord," she replied in an emotionless voice "In my vanity I thought to offer myself to you as concubine, as did my mother. When I spoke to Lord Brandor of my hopes, he laughed at me and told me that you would never again need the services of a living woman. He said that while we could return your reign, we would never be able to summon you here. He.." She stopped suddenly and bit her lip. Simon was amazed, it was a rare mortal who could break free of his compulsion. Such a one could serve him well. But what had enabled her to break the compulsion? Dan had spoken of Attilla's revenge and the sunderring of Empirior's soul, but fear of that would not have been sufficient to break her spell. "When wilt thy companions meet again?" She relaxed at his change of subject and wiped a trace of blook from her lip, "Tonight, My Lord, at two hours past the setting sun." Convenient, thought Simon, he would be able to attend without disrupting their schedule. He did a quick mental calculation, they would meet in about three hours. He would use that time to good advantage. "Girl." He looked askence at her. "Alora, My Lord." "Alora, tell me of thy associates." The girl spoke at length once again, telling of the major members of the sect. Simon, intent on such things, caught that slight tremor with every mention of Brandor. What was this man, that he caused her such fear. As the story progressed, Simon made a mental picture of the group. Brandor led with an iron hand, any who failed him suffered greviously. The others were of little individual importance, being driven with power- lust. Most members seemed to be of above average intelligence, but not normally worthy of his time. But perhaps he could glean some use from them. As Alora's story drew to a close, Simon felt the joyful return of night. He began to lay his plans. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brandor sat on the mock throne. All had arrived except his favorite, Alora. He would make her rue this lateness, but such pleasures would have to wait. He looked around, seeing his followers doing his bidding. As his eyes scanned the room, he saw Alora in the alcove that lead to the crypt. Once agian, he mentally patted himself on the back for his cleverness. These fools really believed that Emperior lay there. Brandor's eyes showed his amusement, but a careful observer could also notice the rising glint of insanity building. Brandor beckoned to Alora, "Come, wench," he yelled, "Attend me." Alora approached, but stopped short. "My Lord, I present to you our Master, Dread Emperior." At her words, silence fell about the room. The true believers glanced about nervously. Brandor scowled, he would punish her for this outrage. "Kneel and beg forgiveness for your words. Perhaps I will let you persuade me to let you live." Alora paled at his words. Simon started to realize why Alora feared this crazy Priest. He marched the length of the room with a confident stride, capturing every eye, even the insane Brandor gaped uncomprehending. "I find thy lack of faith disturbing, Priest. But I shall be lenient, abase thyself before me and thy life shall be spared." Brandor allowed his anger to control him. "I rule here, Guards, take Alora to my chambers and slay this one." As the guards attacked, Alora's scream tore from her throat. Simon, casully picked up one of the guards and threw him into the others. Then he grabbed the one who still held Alora and forced him to succomb to his will. "Leave the woman," he commanded, "She is mine." Alora seemed to gain some measure of confidence from that, but then she glanced at Brandor and let the tears flow down her cheeks. Brandor laughed, "She is fit for one such as you, Pretender. I've grown tired of her. But would an Emperor take a used woman?" Simon understood. This crazed Priest had forced her and it was true that no Emperor would take such a one. Simon realized that he would enjoy slaying this one. "I shall take any woman who pleases me. Now, Yield before me and beg for a quick death." Brandor was shocked. The power he felt was compelling, but less than the true Emperior wielded. "You dare to mock us, Pretender? I demand your blood to sate my thirst." The others watched, agast. Only Emperior had the right to drink human blood. Simon allowed a slight smile to touch his lips with the mention of the word blood. "Come then, little Priest, my blood is yours for the taking." Brandor drew a mighty sword and approached his prey. Simon saw the crazed eye's and knew that his gaze would prove usless. However, he would slay this one and quench his undying thirst. Brandor swung the mighty battle-blade. Simon made an arcane gesture, knowing that none here would realize his fakery. The blade passed through his torso, but it touched him not. Simon grabbed Brandor by the wrists with a vise-like grasp, causing the blade to drop to the ground. Brandor struggled, his madness lending him strength, but to no avail. Simon tightened his hold and the snapping bones could be heard clearly in the silence. Then Simon struck and the Priest fell to the ground, unconscious. Simon could smell the mortal blood. He bowed his head and slowly drank his fill, quenching more than his thirst. He raised his head and noticed that all had fallen on their faces before him. His thirst had convinced them of his identity. He took a brief moment and enjoyed the cruel irony of the situation. "Be there any who dispute My claim." his quite voice filled the chamber. After a brief pause, Simon ascended the throne and gave his first royal command, "Let all here come before Me and pay homage." Alora was first at his feet, letting her joy shine in her face, "Oh Dread Emperor, I beg thee to accept me as thy servant." And so it went, from oldest to youngest, they all bowed before him. As morning approached, he stood and addressed his new found 'Kingdom.' "The time is not yet, but I shall call on you soon. In mine absence, Alora will speak with my voice. Any who disobey her will wish for a death as easy as his." he said, making a vague gesture toward the dry husk of Brandor. His rapt audience cowered in fear, they would serve him faithfully for some time. He placed Alora on the throne, whispering in her ear, "Rule them wisely, and bring no attention here." "As you command, Master." Her smile was uncertain, but her eyes showed her strength. Simon strode out of the room, a path opening up almost magically. Soon, he could begin a search for Flash. He approached his resting place and relaxed, covering himself with the massive stone. Soon... 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 75 Chapter V The Thunderclap Simon's thoughts drifted on the astral winds, in a vampire's version of sleep. His body lay, relaxed in the cool, comfortable sarcophagus. Suddenly, his rest was disturbed by a loud thunderclap. He awoke instantly, his mind fully aware. He cast his senses abroad, searching for the source of the mystical disturbance. He felt the latent presence of magic from the direction of StoneGrip. He would have to discover the source of this potential threat. He could tell that the sun was not yet midway through the sky. Tonight, he would discover what was afoot. Simon lay back, to rest throughout the remainder of the day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As night covered the land, Simon arose. He made his silent way to the cave entrance. He looked up at the night sky and admired the perfect stars, one thing his native realm lacked. If any had been near enough to hear it, they would have noticed a quite sigh. Simon let his form blur with the familiar feeling and a bat flew off into the night. Simon flew long and fast, conserving his limited time. Slowly, in the distance, StoneGrip began to grow as he neared. Finally, when Simon was within a long bowshot of the Keep, he landed and blurred back into human form. He stared at the stronghold intently, tuning his senses to the emanations of the arcane. As he continued to concentrate, the structures of spells began to illuminate, like softly glowing threads of gossamer moonbeams. Simon started to read the patterns of the spells, identifying the uses of the spells. He detected spells of warding, spells of protection and detection. Simon was impressed. It took a master of the Mystic Arts to cast spells such as these and make them so difficult to detect. Simon concentrated on the sheath of magic about the castle. Slowly, he began to realize that these spells had been in place for several months, perhaps years. 'They must have been placed by the one I've heard about, Galrond.' he thought, his respect for the Mage growing. 'He would have made a valuable ally, but now he must be my worthy opponent.' Simon began to seek for a chink in the magical armor, knowing that even the most meticulous of masters were incapable of perfect coverage. For hours, Simon mentally probbed the shell. Finally, he discerned a slight gap that he could use. He settled down and relaxed, letting his awareness creep forth. He eased through the gap, careful not to bend or break the structure of the surrounding spells. After several moments, he was through. He could not attempt a detailed search, due to the spells, but he could get some general impresstions. He stretched out, seeking the one he was compelled to find. At last, he felt a trace of Flash in his mind. 'So, Flash rests within. I must contrive a way to keep watch.' Simon felt a feather-light touch on his psyche. He immediately put forth an aura of blankness and retreated. Simon drew his awareness back to his prone body, wanting nothing more than to escape the web of spells before he was detected. After a moment, Simon sat up and gazed at the castle. He knew that Galrond had almost snared him. 'You are rare mortal, Galrond. Few have ever managed to perceive me until I allow it,' he thought to himself. He allowed his form to become flow. And, where Simon had stood a moment before, only a bat remained, which quickly flew up into the night sky. And, as Simon approached his resting place, he knew he would have to deal with more than Flash to acheive his goals. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Galrond leaned back. 'For one brief moment, I felt a presence,' he thought. 'Perhaps the last few stressful days have taken a greater toll than I realized.' He went to his bed chamber and relaxed, casting the experience aside, thinking it an illusion of his restlessness. He allowed the tension to flow out of his body and, moments later, drifted into a deep and peaceful slumber. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 76 Chapter VI The Glowing Orb Simon sat at ease in a private booth at the Glowing Orb. He relaxed, slowly sipping from a crystal goblet, the yellow liquid giving off a pale glow. Simon leaned back and let the Elvish Ambrosia trickle down his throat. Looking up, he saw Dan enter. Dan strode forward, his injuries only partly concealed by his confident swagger. When he neared the booth, Dan spoke, "M'Lord, the task is done. I now bear the chain of Mastery." Simon motioned for Dan to sit, then ordered another bottle. "You have done well, but I see you are not unscathed. Do you fair well?" "I hurt, but I survive. A Mage scored on me with a glowing dagger as I battled the former GuildMaster. But the Healers' arts don't seem to help me." "Strange. I've learned a few tricks, give me your hand." Simon took the proferred hand and mumbled faintly. A dark glow formed about the clasped members and Dan suddenly felt better. The pain was still there, but remote and easily ignored. "Thank you, M'Lord, I am much improved." The serving wench appeared and set down another bottle and goblet. Simon slipped her a platnum, saying "Keep the remainder for yourself, girl, in return for your speedy service." The wench flashed him a truely brilliant smile before rushing back to her duties. "How can one such as her serve you, M'Lord?" Dan asked, wondering at his master's motivations. "In large, she can't, but not all my actions are devoted to my misson, and she is a fair maiden." Dan was surprised, but let it pass. "The Guild awaits your will. What deeds of mischief and mayham do you command?" he asked with a grin. "I seek news of StoneGrip. Not baseless rumors, but detailed plans of the place and knowledge of the major players in this game." "My predecessor had similar thoughts. We have garnered some of what you seek. Also, we have some 'friends' in the castle, among the serving staff and the guards. I shall send them new instructions upon my return." "I am impressed. Send me what you have and forward the rest as it comes in. There is a young rogue in your midst, by name of Seth. Use him to deliver the information." "Aye, he is a talented young journeyman, but why him?" "Because he is a involved with the Cultists on the hill." "The Emperior worshippers? I'll have him dispatched at once!" "No. You won't. You will give him the information and send him to the ruins on the hill, with orders to give the packets to Alora." "But M'Lord, those fanatics are untrustworthy. They serve only their dead Liege." "Yes, and for all intents and purposes, I am he whom they serve." Dan was momentarily dazed, "And they follow you? Willingly?" "I have persuaded them that I am Emperior, returned from the grave. They have proved fanatically loyal. One, to prove his loyalty to me, held a red-hot iron until I commanded him to release it." "All will be as you command, M'Lord." Dan said uneasily. He raised the goblet and downed the contents in one massive swallow. His eyes widened with shock at the potency of the Elvish drink. Simon watched his friend leave the Inn. He had been subject to quite a few shocks, especially that of having a fanatical spy in his midst. But, given time for reflection, he would calm down and see the advantages. Simon sat still for some time, finishing his bottle with slow deliberation. Simon rose and headed toward the exit, covertly noticing the wench watching him. He looked about the room as though he were looking for someone. Then, after several moments, faced her and smiled. She returned his smile with a twinkle in her eyes. He went over to her and took her hand, placing a gold piece in it. "Thank you." he simply said. Then, Simon turned and walked briskly out of the Inn. The girl stared after him for a moment, her thoughts flittering about impulsively. Her attention was brought back to reality by a blustering figure with a loud voice, "Get back to work, girl!" 'He's at it again," she thought, looking at the red-faced inn keeper, 'Every time a customer notices me, he gets bossy.' She turned about and returned to work, feeling his hot eyes boring into her back. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 164 Chapter VII A Cloud of Confusion Tora left the bed quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping guard sharing it with her. 'What one does for one's Guild,' she thought, sniffing at the guard in disdain. For a moment, she let herself relax and remember better times. She had been young in the Guild, a mere prentice. But the Master, like most men, found her attractive. Long ago, when she was a humble weaver, she had learned how to use her comeliness to her advantage. After she was forced out of business by the others, she had joined the Guild in hopes of regaining some of her lost earnings from her former compatriots. Her hopes had not been in vain. Within months, she had forced more than one of her old advisaries out of business. Her thirst for revenge sated, she through herself into an effort to manipulate the Master into marrying her, ensuring a lifetime of luxary. After a couple of years, she had moved into the Master's Chambers. Then, tragedy struck. One night, she had returned from a ball, well-laced with wine. In front of several of the Senior Thieves, she insulted the Master and threw her ever-full goblet of wine in his face. The Master could not ignore such a public display without losing the respect of the others. Also, he had finally tired of her and now he had the perfect chance. He decreed that she become some minor servant in StoneGrip Keep, learning its ways and secrets for the Guild. The others let their happiness be known, for they had had their fill of the demanding little whore and they knew that such a duty would include seducing the rough and ungentle guards. Looking into the mirror, Tora discovered that her face had paled with the recollection, just as it had on that night. She thrust the thought behind her and concentrated on her work. Carefully, eased a knife under the wax seal and lifted it off the packet. She quickly rifled through the contents, but found nothing of interest, just the same old drivel for the Lord of Agnast. She eased a sheaf of papers from behind the mirror and set them neatly on the back of the packet. Then, she covered the papers with a piece of hide and rubbed some oil on it, making it stick to the packet. The fool guard would never notice. Then she turned it back over and closed the packet. Using a candle flame as only a thief can, she melted the backside of the waxen seal just enough to reseal the packet. She started to blow on it to make it cool faster, but then quickly stashed it back into his pack as the guard stirred. "Awaken, Love," she said, her voice betraying no hint of her loathing, "Lord Attilla will have your ears if your late again." The guard, his attempt to kiss her interrupted by her statement, shivered at the thought. "Why we follow that little runt is more than I can figure." She looked at him in amusement, "Your right. Why don't you go ask him before you leave?" She failed to keep the biting edge of her question out of her voice. "Right. I'd rather be unmanned by a dragon and let orcs use me then cross that one." The guard retrieved his pack and left, his amorous thoughts quenched by the turn of the conversation. As she shut the door behind him, Tora stifled her laughter. 'That one wouldn't last a moment against Attilla,' she thought, feeling nothing but respect for Attilla. Any Hobbit who could command the fealty of these men was something special. 'Shame he's not a little taller,' she thought mischieviously. The guard made his way to Agnast, taking his frustration out on his poor steed. 'Why did so few of his fellow guards share his feelings about the Halfling? The other races have their uses, but Men should lead, not Hobbits.' The thoughts beat through his mind in counterpoint to the horses' galloping hooves. As he passed through the city gates, Ben spied a loud, crowded inn. After several minutes, he found a good place to hitch his horse. He let the pack slide from his shoulders and stowed it in his saddlebag. 'This can wait until later, after I have a drink.' he thought. The dim figure watched as the Guardsman entered the tavern. Moving as quickly as stealth would allow, he slunk over to the horse and slipped the pack from the saddlebag. Easing it to the ground, he pulled out the packet and pulled the false back off. He gathered up the papers and slipped them into his pouch. Checking to make sure the packet showed no sign of tampering, he returned it to the pack and dropped the pack into the saddlebag. Ducking behind some handy crates, the man pulled off his dark cloak and stached it under one of the crates. He took a moment to staighten his garish outfit, the bright colors noticable even at night. The thief pulled a look of haughty disdain about his face and walked purposely, if unsteadily, away. Few noticed him, for the younger nobility, especially when drunk, treated peasants with little kindness. As the figure staggered on, he collided with an ancient begger. With agility at odds with his age, the begger relieved the man of his pouch. Then the arrogant figure slapped his friend and former trainer soundly and ambled off into the night. The old man was pleased with his former pupil. The trade off had gone without a hitch. Taking a slow, round-about course, the begger made his way to the hidden halls of the the Thieves Guild. He was admitted to the Chambers of the GuildMaster and presented him with the papers. "Good work, Kath. I knew you could still handle field work." Dan said in greeting to his former trainer. "You mean this little stroll. Any prentice could have done as well, but it felt good to get out and stretch my legs." "Good, now get the scribes busy. I want a concise report, with sketches, drawn up from this. We need two copies, one to be filled and the other to be sealed up for delivery. Have the second brought to me within the hour. Also, see to it that Seth is sent down here." Kath left the Master's chambers and made his way up into the Guild Hall. Kath shuddered, being one of the few who knew why Dan chose to live in the deepest cellers under the Hall. Seth reached the Chambers of the Master. He refused to let any trace of his fear reach his face. Most thieves who were 'invited' here never returned. He As he raised his hand to knock, the Master's voice could be heard, "Enter." Suppressing a shudder, Seth entered, his false confidence apparent on his face. "I have an errand for you, journeyman. Soon, I want you to deliver a package for me." "I've not done such work since my prentice day's Master." "That is of no importance. This package is to be delivered to a young woman named Alora. You can find her in the old ruins outside of town." This time the fear reached Seth's face. He was being toyed with, for if Dan knew of Alora, he had spies in the Sect and must surely know that Seth, himself, was a member. But, the formalities had to be followed. "As you command. Any other details I should know?" "You did that well, Seth, but I see your fear. I've know of your religious affiliations for some time. Would you care to beg?" "No. It would do me no good. May I ask what you intend?" "For now, your worth more to me alive than dead, barely. Since you will not believe my word, you have my leave to inspect tha package before you leave. It contains valuable information about StoneGrip." The room echoed with a faint knocking and Dan gestured to Seth to open the door. Kath entered and handed the document to Seth. "I know of your misgivings, son, but I swear that the message holds no danger for your mistress." Seth took the packet and opened it, checking its contents. Kath was shocked at the journeyman's impertinence but, noticing Dan's inaction, held his peace. After several moments, Seth finished his search and resealed it. "Why do you give Alora plans for StoneGrip Keep?" "You forget your place, Journeyman. Perhaps Alora will trust you with that knowledge, for I shall not. Go." Seth stifled his remaining questions and made his way out. As he left the Guild Hall and headed toward the ruins, he remembered the old curse that Kath used to say, 'May you live to see interesting times.' Now, years later, Seth finally realized just how potent that curse could be. 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject ======================================================================== 143 Chapter IX Sleep of the Undead Simon eased back from the table. The meal had been excellent and even Alora seemed relaxed. Since her assumption of leadership of the Sect, she had become almost painfully efficient. In fact, her open adoration had become most wearisome. Yet, she had proved to be a wise choice for the Sect had prospered. As he let his eyes shut, Alora frowned at the faint smile that played about his lips. He was upto something again. Yet, she had pledged herself to him, body and soul. Hiding her irritation at her exclusion, she made her way out of the room, leaving the servants to clear the table of the repast. Simon barely noticed her withdrawl. He was delicately letting his consciousness flow toward his minion, Dan. Thus, he assured himself a fair vantage to view the nights festivities. These notables had proven a challenge to his subtle manipulations, but he knew even famed Attilla would play his assigned role. Simon eased into his agents mind, careful to hide all traces of his presence. Now all that was left was to wait. Relaxing into a passive state, he let his mind wonder back over the framework of his plans. Dan had proven quite malleable, indeed, Simon had been forced to restrain him from killing Tora, their most talented spy in the Keep. As she had left, her broken arm and other hurts had left her open to his mental urgings. Though he had no proof, Simon was sure she had gone to Attilla and passed on all the information she had. The beauty of it all was that she spoke the truth and not even Galrond's vaunted magic would detect Simon's touch. Yet, Attilla would have to strike at the Guild soon or Dan would learn of the threat through other means and disperse the thieves about the city. Simon considered what he knew of the Hobbit. Surely he would try his stealthy talents instead of force. Once within the depths of the Guild, Attilla would be vulnerable for he would be inclined to leave his guards behind. That would be his undoing, for even he must fall beneath the massed might of the Guild. And with Attilla dead, the demoralized Keep would no longer be a challenge. Then, Simon was disturbed from his musings. Dan knew that the Guild had been invaded. He summoned his elite guards and, with bared blade, he charged to confront the intruder, sending a servant to rouse the Guild. He rushed through the darkness with ease, secretly enjoying the misgivings of the guards. Dan spied the twain and mentally commanded silence and alertness from his warriors. They stood silent and so Attilla and Tora walked into the trap. Dan swung his massive sword and struck Tora with the heavy hilts. Tora dropped like a stone. As Dan swung at the little thief he allowed himself a slight smile. Attillas death would please his Master and Tora he would torment for days. Yet, the blade missed for Attilla was almost at home in the dimness as the vampire. Attilla pulled out a small coin that glowed with a dim light. Simon could feel the touch of Galrond in the spell. Dan felt his enjoyment rise at the thought of taunting the Hobbit. "So the little fly has flown into my web. Why have you intruded, Attilla? Do you seek an early death?" As the guards laughed, Attilla drew his small sword. Though Dan had not a Mages eyes, Simon did and could see that the blade was not to be taken lightly. As one of the guards attacked, Attilla blurred into motion and the guards severed head hit the floor. Simon watched through Dan's eyes and felt a momentary doubt in his plan. Then, the Hobbit launch himself into the air and killed the other two guards, one with a sweep of the sword and the other with a thrown dagger. Simon felt Dan's yell for reinforcements. Surely Dan would be able to overwhelm the little one. Yet Attilla had learned to match strength with his preternatural quickness. The two fought and neither could gain the upper hand. Simon relaxed. Attilla would soon grow tired and Dan would scewer the troublesome Hobbit. But, once again, Simon was surprised. From somewhere, a bright light erupted about the chamber, blinding Dan and Simon alike. When their sight returned, they saw Attilla and Tora making good their escape. Simon felt Dan's emotion and knew that the inexperienced vampire was lost to reason in a vat of raw hatred. As Dan charged, the massed might of the Guild erupted from the buildings and charged, intent upon the soilders that Attilla raced for. Suddenly, a great light shone down from the sky and the night became as day. Hidden archers mowed the massed thieves down. Then, as Dan neared his enemy, his charge was met by the Hobbits pet Priest. Simon felt the power rising and tried to warn Dan of the danger, but his minion had been deafened by his anger and his reason had fled. After a short, intense fight, the Priest held Dan to the ground with much more than the strength of his body. Thtough Dans eyes, Simon saw the Priests hand ignite in blue flame. As it neared Dans chest, Simon felt the heat of the spiritual flame. At the moment of contact, Simon screamed in agony. His mystic contact with Dan erupted in blue flame, burning to the very heart of Simon's being. His thrashing body flailed about the room, casting broken furniture everywhere. Slowly the flame died and Simon lay still upon the remains of the once lavish room. Alora and two others charged into the room, fearing for their liege. They saw him laying upon the floor like a dead thing, though his body showed no sign of injury. The room, however, suggested some great struggle for the heavy oaken chairs had been shattered and even the massive polished stone table was broken. Later, they returned their Master to his tomb. The air hummed with their low chanting and they performed many dark rites in Emperiors name. 'Perhaps Galrond had reached out from afar to strike at Emperior, but the Master would rise again, for no mortal Mage could restrain such as her Lord,' Alora thought. As she returned to her chambers, the sounds of her mourning broke the heavy silence. Yet, she was her Masters servant and she would serve his cause well. She straightened her back and cleared her face of the signs of weeping. When Emperior arose, he would see the proof of her worth. Alora awoke with a start at the heavy pounding on her door. Quickly, she dressed and opened the door. Outside stood a guard with her friend Seth, their spy in the Guild. His body was bloody, but his stance was unbowed. Alora had him attended to as he began his tale. The Guild had been attacked. For some unknown reason, Dan had ordered the thieves to charge Attillas forces. Yet, in a straight fight, the thieves had been no match for the grim warriors of the Keep. Some few escaped, like himself, but most lay dead in the street. Even Dan had been slain, his body burned with an eerie flame. Barely, had Seth been able to sneak away and report to her. Alora was troubled by the tale. Certainly Attillas attack on the Guild and her Masters seizure were connected. She knew that Emperior had some tie with the Guild, but he had never enlightened her with the knowledge. Quietly, she told Seth of the Masters plight. Seth paled at the tale. "What will we do now, Alora?" The quiet tone reached her and the question echoed about her head. She lifted her head and assumed all of the dignity she could. "We will survive. When the Master returns, we will be ready." 'Unknown@Unknown Brad Samek ??/??/?? No subject