VI

The mist cleared to reveal the Isle of Morr, a place of white-sand beaches and rocky cliffs. Beyond the pass between the cliffs—more of a wide crag—Yoreno could see further in, a landscape of rugged mountains and forests.

“What is this island you’re taking me to, Mistress?”

Dantera breathed heavily amidst the splashing of the oars and the bobbing of the boat in the gentle waves. The late winter winds seemed almost warm here, and Yoreno was beginning to sweat under his armor and coat.

“One of ancient evils.”

Yoreno narrowed his eyes. “Why would a place of ancient evils be used as a training ground for Knight Sentinels?”

“Because it was Arlian’s Sentinels who were the vanguard against the dark forces in the beginning. I thought you studied more history, Yoreno. I’m disappointed.”

“We have time,” he said. “Tell me more.”

“Hmm,” she noised dubiously. “It is these Sentinels—almost warrior monks if one was being honest—that cut their way through the usurper’s forced, who battled the mages who sided with the Grand Mage Klause Schuar.”

“The Grand Bastard…” Yoreno said musingly.

She twisted to get a view of the island. “We are there. Most of them died during the war, but their ranks were replenished after king Kandrion took his rightful place on the Aevalin throne. After a hundreds of years, their order mostly died out.”

“They slowly became what we call adventurers?”

“Yes,” she said. “But that thing we call adventurers can be anyone now. They are far removed from Arlian’s honorable Sentinels.”

“I see.”

The rowboat scrapped against the sandy beach as they pulled up to a mostly submerged block of stones that was evidentially an old quay.

Dantera jumped out of the boat, her boots splashing into the water. She leaned in and grabbed half of their supplies. Yoreno grabbed the other half and followed her with his sword in one hand and the leather bag in the other. As they waded up the beach, the sailor who had rowed them ashore pulled the boat up so it wouldn’t wash away. Yoreno glanced back at the Minstrel’s Dagger. She was hardly visible through the mist, appearing as nothing more than a partially obscured silhouette of grey outlines.

“Come, Yoreno,” Dantera said.

He turned, looked Dantera in the eyes. In the light—and there wasn’t much compared to a sun filled day—her eyes appeared to be much lighter than when they were indoors.

Together they stalked up the beach toward the cliffs.

“It is getting hot,” she said.

Yoreno removed his jacket entirely and put it on a rock near to where they were standing. “Is this normal?”

“It has been at least ten years since I set foot here, so I do not remember well. However, I do not remember this particular heat.”

“Could something have changed?” he asked as she also removed her jacket and placed it on the rock.

“It is possible.” She glanced further into the island’s interior, which because of the mist, didn’t afford a particularly far view. The mountains and rocky cliffs were abundant, and it seemed they would have to navigate these canyons to get where they needed to go. At least as far as Yoreno could tell through the mist.

“This rite…” he said, trailing off.

“You want to know what you must do?”

“Yes.”

“Ha!” she scoffed.

“Even I do not know anymore.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“It has been some time, as I have told you,” she said. “Things may have changed. There used to be a particular beast—the lord of monsters here on this island dungeon. I would have you slay him.”

“Him?” Yoreno asked. “There’s only one of this particular monster?”

“Yes, if my memory serves me correctly.” She smiled playfully. “Which I believe it does.” Yoreno couldn’t help but share her smile. But then she sobered, added, “This island is dangerous. The dungeon is full of strong monsters. You must be careful.”

“Are you certain this creature I must kill is even still alive?”

“Well, I can’t be sure of anything concerning this isle now.” She craned her neck and regarded the cliffs. They were steep, wet from the misty overcast skies—foreboding even. “The monster… upon death is reborn. From the dungeon.”

Yoreno nodded.

“His name is Herokelus, so called by the ancients who discovered him here.”

“Why has the dungeon heart not been harvested?”

She looked at him and shrugged. “The last time I was here, no one had yet found the dungeon heart. I doubt anyone has done so in that time since I was away. This place… it is ancient. There may not even be a dungeon heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of a dungeon heart as a pearl,” she said. “They form because of tears to the evil world. There may be no pearl—no dungeon heart. It may just be a tiny”—she pinched her thumb and forefinger together and looked at him through the gap—“crack that allows dark energy through, hence why Herokelus can be reborn over and over. We do not know.”

“Pearl or not, I will find Herokelus and I will kill him.”

“Then bring me back his heart stone as proof.”

Yoreno nodded, but he also found himself feeling baffled. “You’re not coming with me?”

“Oh,” she said whimsically, “I will keep an eye on you. But I want to scout the island. It wouldn’t be a rite of passage if I had to babysit you the whole time now, would it?”

“Babysitting,” Yoreno said. “So that’s what you call it.”

She laughed. “Go on, my protégé. My knight to be. Find Herokelus and kill him. I will see you soon.”

“How will I know when I find him?”

“Oh,” she said, with a grin, “you will know him when you see him. Trust me.”

“All right.”

“Be careful. He has killed many an adventurer in the past.”

“I will be.”

She stepped toward him, smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “You better.”

Then she turned and ran away from him through the canyon. Had Yoreno tried to catch her, he would have failed. Her speed was that of a top-tier adventurer. Had he been pitted against her in a race, Yoreno would have been like that of a toddler chasing an adult. Her adventurer’s level was far beyond that of his, and it showed in every aspect of her abilities.

Yoreno breathed in deeply. He turned, listening to the birds overhead, the gentle crashing of the waves on the beach. The quiet, peaceful setting and the nature bellied the dangers of this place. And the evils. He caught sight of the sailor who rowed them ashore as he came forward with a pile of damp driftwood in his arms.

“Can you light that?” Yoreno asked.

The sailor smirked. “We have our ways to handle these situations, Adventurer.”

Yoreno nodded. “In any event, your crew is on their way,” he said, seeing the six other rowboats making their way to shore. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The sailor nodded. “The speed of the gods go with you, Yoreno.”

“You know my name?”

“I am in the Roaming Lions.”

“Sorry. I just don’t recognize you.”

“It’s because I spend most of my time out at sea. We all do. Or waiting at the wharfs. We sailors haunt our own areas of Aevalin.”

“What is your name?”

“Helis.”

“All right, Helis. I’ll leave you to your tasks. I have my own to attend to.”

“Aye,” Helis said.

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

And like Dantera, he abruptly left the man. Yoreno picked up his provisions and his sword and stalked further into the island, the sounds of the beach quickly receding between the canyon walls that blocked out most of the sounds, including the wind above.

“Now to find this Harokelus,” he muttered, wishing he had even a hint as to how he might do that.

He slung his sword belt around his waist. With one last glance behind him, Yoreno wished his friends could have been on the beach to see him off. It was no matter. He would see them soon enough with the heart stone of Herokelus in his hand, a knighthood waiting for him when they got back to Aevalin for the Age of Readventure festival. His buckle chinked metallically as he secured his sword.

The sand crunched underneath Yoreno’s boots as he set forth. He wasn’t expecting monsters of magic, but if there were, his armor contained runes to help ward against their damaging effects.

He slung his provision back around to his front to see what Dantera had packed for him. There was a jug of water, bandages, some dry food and camp fire materials, including a large wad of wrapped wood shavings, a flint and a dagger. Wrapped in a coil of leather strips were three torches.

She had said this task could take an overnight trip to complete. Yoreno was prepared for that. He slung his provisions to his back and glanced around the canyon path. Dantera’s steps were easy to make out in the sand. The path was relatively barren with outcroppings of rock and some small boulders with little tufts of sea grass growing about. To his left a dried out dead tree stood before him, all its bark long fallen off and rotted away.

Yoreno followed the path, which wound somewhat, but not a lot until it opened into a clearing. It seemed he was inside the canyon that wouldn’t open up onto the mesa. He would likely be going into a dungeon of caves.

The open space turned into a bramble of trees, much like the first he had seen. Most were long dead, petrified skeletons of their former selves. A different kind of bird perched on the branches here, black of feather with piercing eyes and long sharp beaks. They didn’t move, so Yoreno suspected they were scavengers. Either that, or they weren’t currently hungry.

In the sand he spotted an outcropping of red rock, but the shape was unnatural, the lines sharp and angular. It was a piece of a ruin. He went to it. On the surface were intricate depressions carved upon it, but they were weather worn, the stone pale and lacking vibrancy from the damage caused by the sun.

He looked about and saw no other ruin forms, so he looked up. Whatever this was, it was a piece of a structure from above, its origin not visible to him from the canyon floor. Dantera had said this place was ancient.

Yoreno continued through the forest until the trees began to thin. They revealed a gully that cut into the side of the canyon. The hole was smooth, so a river long gone had carved its way through here.

The place seemed dead to Yoreno. Would he truly find monsters here, Herokelus among them? It didn’t seem so, but what caught his eye next were the steps leading to the cliff face. Upon the cliff, or rather protruding out from it were more of the red-marble edifices. There was an entry there, the door mostly torn away, made from some ancient wood that had withstood the weather for the gods knew how long.

He went up to the steps, peering up at the entry, a black square of darkness. The corridor was probably a wind hole now.

Yoreno found himself frowning. He had lost Dantera’s footsteps at the front of the steps. She did not go into the dungeon? They simply ceased. He looked to his left and right, but there was no sign of her.

Not that he wanted to follow her anyway.

Perhaps she was watching him even now? He glanced about. All was quiet, except for the occasional subtle rustle of wind or a squawk from those birds he had seen earlier.

There was a path leading up a narrow cleft in the canyon wall. It too was smooth, indicating that the area was one of water flow. The Isle of Morr seemed dry, desert-like in some respects, but there were definitely signs of past flooding.

He could go up that narrow path, or he could go into the temple-like structure. Either was suitable, but monsters typically liked dark, murky places. The temple—or the dungeon rather, was the better choice to begin with.

Yoreno put his booted foot onto the first step. They were covered with sand and partially revealed by the sweeping of the winds. Pausing for a moment, he breathed in deeply, then went up the steps, the little pebbles and debris crunching under each step sounding almost loud.

It was morning time, but the overcast skies and the mist made it impossible to tell. He glanced into the corridor ahead. It was dark, but not imperceptibly so. Still, it was probably better to carry a lit torch so he had light to see by.

He really needed a magical item that gave off more light, and more reliably than a torch. If an adventurer was alone in a pitch black environment and his torch guttered out for whatever reason, unless he was able to light that torch again quickly, he could be attacked and killed.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

Slinging his bag back to his front, he took out the torches, uncoiled them and then did the same with his wood shavings. Yoreno struck his flint against them using the dagger Dantera had supplied. The shavings caught the red sparks and started smoking then a hot undulating flame appeared.

Yoreno reached out with his torch and stepped into the dark corridor of the dungeon.