Lady Dimwater threw the old tome to the ever growing pile of discarded books on her desk. She leaned back in her high-backed arm chair and sighed heavily. Her hands went up and she rubbed her temples in circular motions to dim her headache. It didn’t help. She snapped her fingers and a small goblet of absinthe appeared on her desk before her. She took a drink and allowed the liquid to course down her throat unimpeded. When the goblet was drained she leaned forward and pointed to the bookshelf across the room. Five books removed themselves from the middle shelf and floated over to her. They neatly arranged themselves in a pile to her right, with the spines facing her so she could see the titles.

She examined each title, looking for any hint that a book may contain the information she sought. The first book, The Life and Times of Adamus Garr, was discarded immediately from the pile. The second book, Arts of the Soul Thief, was taken from the pile and set in front of her. The other three, Flight of the Krilo, Ician Barriers of Magic, and Forging the Saddhumah, were all sent back to the shelf with a wave of her hand.

Determined, she opened the book she had set aside and searched through the pages. As with many other books written in ages past, it was hard to glean the information she needed from this book because there was a lot of content added to it to make the book’s true message harder to understand. This practice was common, she knew. The masters of the past had, in their wisdom, decided to shroud their knowledge and secrets in an effort to keep unworthy, lesser minds, from discovering the great powers of the arcane arts. But, Lady Dimwater was not one with a lesser mind. She picked apart the riddles, saw through the misleading phrases, and was able to make short work of understanding each of the tomes in her possession. She had always had a great gift for deciphering the codes in ancient tomes. She was even able to read the language of the Ancients themselves, and learn from those great sages.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. Buried within the text of Arts of the Soul Thief, there was an obscure reference to Nagar the Black, and Tu’luh. She followed the clues in that passage until she found instructions for several rituals that, once enacted, would help the followers of Tu’luh find Nagar’s Secret and unlock its power.

A knock on her door forced broke her concentration. The door opened without her consent and in walked Master Orres. “Lady Dimwater, I have been looking for you.”

“I was unaware of that,” Lady Dimwater lied. She stealthily closed the book and weaved a spell of invisibility over it, to keep it hidden from Master Orres.

“I’m afraid I have some disturbing news,” Master Orres said.

“What is that?” Lady Dimwater asked. Mentally she prepared a charm spell. She knew that if Orres was indeed a traitor, as Master Lepkin suspected, then it was Lepkin’s right to enact a punishment. So, if Orres proved to have ill intentions, she had decided to capture his mind and hold him in a magical cell until Lepkin could return with the proof that the law required.

“Janik is gone,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Lady Dimwater pressed.

“Over the weekend, he fled Kuldiga Academy.” Master Orres closed the door and walked in to sit across from Dimwater. “I am afraid he may be working against us.”

Dimwater’s eyebrows arched.

“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room,” Orres said with a glare more fierce than she had ever seen before. Lady Dimwater nodded in assurance and waited for him to continue. “The other night, I was searching Kuldiga Academy for Nagar’s Secret.”

“What? Why would you do that? You have no right.”

“I know,” Orres said as he glanced to the floor. “It wasn’t my choice, believe me.” He fidgeted with his thumbs in his lap for a moment before continuing. “I received word that Lokton Manor had been attacked by a powerful warlock. I was told that Master Lepkin was there, protecting Erik.”

“That does not explain why you sought after that which is forbidden,” Dimwater said. The warning was apparent in her tone.

“The message was sent to me under the seal of House Lokton,” Orres replied. “The message said that Lepkin was charging me with retrieving Nagar’s Secret from his study and hiding it. Master Lepkin believed that the warlock’s assault may have been a ploy to distract him from guarding the book.” Orres looked up at her with determined eyes. “You and I both know how important Erik is to the salvation of this realm. If he was lost, it would have proved as much a death sentence for us all as if Nagar’s Secret itself had been taken and opened.” Orres cleared his throat.

“So, what did you do?” Dimwater pressed.

“I called upon my three bodyguards to do the task. They could not find the book. They returned to me empty-handed, so I sent them to look again. Shortly after I sent them the second time I noticed a light coming from one of the library windows. Before I could reach the room, I heard shouting and screaming. I could tell that there was a battle going on. I reached the room too late. My three bodyguards were dead. Books and papers were strewn about the place with blood slung all over. After I saw that, I went to Janik’s room, fearing for his life.”

“Janik is not put down so easily,” Dimwater put in.

“I know,” Orres said with a sober nod. “That is the problem.”

Dimwater leaned forward, planting her elbows on the desk and lacing her fingers together. “That is when you discovered that Janik had fled?”

“Exactly,” Orres replied. “He had obviously been to his room. The door was open, and you and I both know he never leaves his door open. A wardrobe was also left open and his pack was missing.”

“That only indicates that he fled, but not that he is working against us.”

“When I returned to my room, I found some things missing from my safe box. My journal was taken. It outlines not only personal details of my life, but also talks about many secret things of the kingdom.” Orres slapped a hand to his forehead and leaned forward. “I was a fool to write those things down, even in a book guarded by magic. It is only a matter of time before someone of magical ability is able to either undo the magical locks or decipher the password for it.”

Lady Dimwater thought for a moment. She had known Master Orres for a very long time, most of her life in fact. She knew when he was hiding something, and this time he wasn’t. He was telling the truth. He was not a traitor, as Lepkin feared. Dimwater had always known Orres to be too quick to react in some situations. Often he overreacted to most situations, as was confirmed by Orres’ quick readiness to draw swords against Lepkin just last week. Someone had abused Orres’ trust and manipulated his overzealous sense of duty to try to find the book, she knew. Whoever had sent the message had lied. She would have to discover who that was.

“There’s more,” Master Orres said. “It isn’t just the journal that is missing.”

*****

“Mr. Stilwell, I am at your service,” Lord Lokton said. The two clasped wrists in greeting, but Lord Lokton could see that Mr. Stilwell was far from smiling. Dried tears and caked dust stained the man’s cheeks. Sir Duvall was with him, looking as grave as the face of death itself. “What is wrong?”

“Lord Lokton,” Mr. Stilwell began with his head down. “I apologize for bringing more grief to House Lokton than has already come this past weekend.”

“It’s alright. Just tell me what has happened and we will put it right.”

“My cousin, the magistrate, is dead.” Mr. Stilwell looked up to Lord Lokton’s wide eyes. “A knife was found in his back.” Mr. Stilwell pulled a cloth from a leather bag and held it out for Lord Lokton. “The knife of Lord Cedreau’s eldest son was deep in my cousin’s back. There were many other stab wounds as well, all made by the same knife as far as I could tell.”

Lord Lokton took the cloth and slowly unrolled it until he saw the weapon. The hilt was black with gold inlay fashioned to look like braids on the handle. The short crossguard was silver, with a single ruby embedded in the center of the crossguard on both sides of the dagger. The blade was crusted with blood. The words For Eldrik were engraven at the base of the blade. Lord Lokton knew for certain that it was the same dagger he had personally seen given to Eldrik Cedreau during the youth’s Konn Deta several years ago. Lord Lokton ran his thumb over the blade and discovered that the tip had been blunted, with part of the blade chipped off. He held it up to Mr. Stilwell with a questioning look.

“The dagger was embedded in my cousin’s spine. The blade was damaged in the bone on the final strike. I believe that is why Eldrik left the knife. It was too hard for him to free it, so he fled the scene.”

“It seems odd for one as cunning as any Cedreau is to leave evidence behind,” Lord Lokton said.

“I was hunting with Sir Duvall when we saw a column of smoke rising above the trees,” Mr. Stilwell said. “We rushed to see what was going on and found my cousin’s house aflame. I went in and was able to get my cousin out of the house before the flames took him.” Mr. Stilwell choked on the lump in his throat and clenched his jaw. It was obvious that he couldn’t speak of the event anymore.

“Sir Duvall, tell me the rest,” Lord Lokton instructed.

Sir Duvall nodded grimly. “We had thought that the smoke had been the reason the magistrate was slumped over on his table, but once we had him outside we saw the truth of it. There were many stab wounds in the man’s back, and as Mr. Stilwell has already said, the dagger was stuck in his spine. It is my belief that when Eldrik realized he could not free his dagger he tried to cover his tracks by torching the house. I believe the fire was started using one of the oil lamps from the wall.”

Lord Lokton nodded and stood quiet for a long time. He placed a hand on Mr. Stilwell and squeezed the man’s shoulder. “I swear, by the honor of House Lokton, that I will investigate this. The guilty will be found and punished.”

Mr. Stilwell’s head jerked up suddenly. His eyes flashed with anger. “An investigation, what do you mean you will investigate? I have brought the evidence to you. I have a witness here. My word may not be good enough on its own, as I am not a lord or a knight, but the word of Sir Duvall and the dagger should suffice to confirm my claim.”

“I know this is hard, but a dagger is not enough. Someone could have stolen it and used it in the hopes of throwing us off of the real murderer’s trail.”

“Shut up!” Mr. Stilwell roared. He wrenched free of Lord Lokton’s hand and pointed an accusing finger at him. “This is your fault! I told you to pay heed to the omen at Erik’s Konn Deta, we all did! Then, the warlock came with the prophecy, but you didn’t heed that either.”

“Warlocks twist the-”

“Enough,” Mr. Stilwell raged. “You will see. When your son puts a dagger in your back then maybe you will open your eyes. You had a chance to turn the prophecy, but it is too late now!”

Lord Lokton turned to Sir Duvall. “Where do your loyalties lie?” he asked the knight. Lord Lokton noticed Braun stepping into view behind the two men, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other.

“My loyalties lie with House Lokton,” Sir Duvall assured with a nod.

“Then arrest Mr. Stilwell,” Lokton ordered. Sir Duvall hesitated, but only for a moment before grabbing Mr. Stilwell’s left arm.

“This is an outrage!” Mr. Stilwell shouted. His right hand dropped to his sword belt but Braun was there before the blade could be loosed. The massive man seized Mr. Stilwell and held him completely still as Lord Lokton undid Mr. Stilwell’s swordbelt and removed the weapon.

“I can not have you going out to enact vengeance that may not be just upon Lord Cedreau’s son,” Lord Lokton said. “Even if the accusation is true, it would start a bloodbath between our houses. The kingdom is weak enough as it is. It does not need two of its nobles waging a war of their own instead of guarding the king as they should.”

Mr. Stilwell spat in Lokton’s face. “A curse on you, and your house.”

Braun’s fist came in hard to Mr. Stilwell’s side and doubled the man over.

“No, Braun, that is enough,” Lord Lokton commanded. “Just take him to the dungeon and put him in a private cell. See that he is well fed and comfortable. I wish to regain his friendship after we have finished our investigation of the magistrate’s murder.”

“As you command,” Braun said with a nod. He and Sir Duvall started to take Mr. Stilwell away when Lord Lokton put a hand on Sir Duvall’s shoulder.

“Stay, Sir Duvall,” Lord Lokton commanded. Sir Duvall turned and bowed and Braun took Mr. Stilwell away. “I want you to go to Lord Cedreau and explain what has happened. Inform him that a full investigation is underway, but that as a courtesy I thought I would inform him first.”

“My lord, that will only give him time to hide his son,” Sir Duvall countered.

“I will keep the knife here,” Lord Lokton said. “I will also send a full report of your testimonies to the senate. If Lord Cedreau hides his son, it will only prove his guilt. Whatever happens, we must handle this by the letter of the law. One misstep on our part would be a disaster for both houses.”

“I see,” Sir Duvall said. “I shall go immediately.”

“No,” Lord Lokton said. “It is already late in the day. If you go now you would arrive during dinner. I know him well enough that he will refuse a private audience, insisting that anything House Lokton has to say to him can be said in front of his guests. If you were to give this message in front of guests it would be as bad as if we had arrested his son. Go in the morning, so you will have a greater chance of gaining a private audience with him.”

“As you command,” Sir Duvall said with a bow.

*****

Mr. Stilwell sat in his cell looking up through the small window near the ceiling that afforded him a glimpse of the starry sky. The night was peaceful and cool. It should have been easy for him to lie down, but he could not sleep. The anger still raged within him. He had told Sir Duvall that they shouldn’t tell Lord Lokton. They should have taken care of it themselves, but Sir Duvall had promised that Lord Lokton would help. They had all betrayed him. The death of his cousin was second in importance to the games of power that the nobles played. Mr. Stilwell thought himself a fool. He sat in a cell for finding his cousin’s body while the murderer wandered free enjoying a luxurious life as a noble’s son.

“It isn’t right, is it?” a voice asked from the shadows of the dungeon hall.

Mr. Stilwell turned to see Sir Duvall’s face emerge from the darkness into the starlight. “What do you want?” Mr. Stilwell asked. “I want no more of your advice.”

“I have not come to give advice,” Sir Duvall said sadly. “I have come to apologize. I judged Lord Lokton to be a man of honor. I thought him above the trappings of political games and positioning. That was why I entered into his service.”

“You were wrong,” Mr. Stilwell growled.

“Indeed,” Sir Duvall agreed. “But, I have come not only with words, but actions to rectify my failing.” Sir Duvall held up a key and slipped it into the lock. The tumblers clicked into place and the latch of the cell door came free. Sir Duvall quickly grabbed the door and applied pressure to it as he opened it, trying to keep it from squeaking.

“What’re you doing?”

“You and I shall go to Cedreau Manor and punish the murderer ourselves. We will then come back and I will put you back in the cell.”

“That won’t work, Lord Lokton will know it was me.”

“Ah,” Sir Duvall held up a finger to his nose. “But, with you in the cell, and the guard swearing that he saw you sleeping during each of his rounds tonight Lord Lokton will have no proof. We will take that arrogant noble’s game and turn it on him. Then, when the senate comes to investigate, the evidence will point to your innocence and you will be free.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mr. Stilwell asked.

“Because Lord Lokton wants me to go in the morning and warn Lord Cedreau of the coming investigation,” Sir Duvall replied. “I can not give the magistrate’s killer a chance to get away.”

Mr. Stilwell rose to his feet. The anger was fresh and hot in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

*****

Master Lepkin dismounted and stood before the twin dwarfs. “I have come to speak with the king.”

“We already have a senator in audience with King Sit’marihu, how many more people is King Mathias going to send?” one of the dwarves asked.

“A senator is here already?” Lepkin asked with an arched brow. “Which one?”

“I dunno, all you tall folk look the same to me,” the dwarf replied with a shrug.

“A senator is noticeable, even among the dwarf folk,” Lepkin said. “I think the white robes with purple stripes on the sleeves should be enough to set them apart. If not, then there is always the gold talisman of the double-headed eagle that they wear around their necks.”

“Alright, so a senator might be different from the rest of you tall folk, but I’m not for knowing the man’s name,” the dwarf gruffed. Lepkin could tell that the dwarf’s patience was running extra thin. “I still don’t see why your presence is necessary. Who are you to add anything to a senator’s message?”

“I am the Keeper of Secrets,” Master Lepkin said evenly. “Now open the door or I shall do it myself.” Lepkin’s hand went down to pull his cloak back. The dwarves both jumped at the sight of the famed blade and hurried to open the door. Lepkin walked inside without another look at either of the dwarves.

He passed through a long upward sloping tunnel. The walls were smooth, with small holes in the low hanging ceiling every dozen yards or so. Normally the construction of the tunnel would seem strange to any besides the dwarves, but Lepkin knew the purpose behind its unique design. Roegudok Hall was built on the inside of a great mountain. The sheer cliffs and impassable peak forced all guests, both invited and uninvited, to use the main entrance, this tunnel, to gain access to the inside of Roegudok Hall. According to the wisdom of the Ancients, the dwarves had built this tunnel to slope in such a way that if an army intruded into the tunnel, the army of Roegudok Hall could unleash molten metal, burning oil, or any other deadly liquid they deemed appropriate to scourge the invaders. The defense was so effective that no invader had even seen the gates of Roegudok Hall itself. They had all died or fled before they could come half way into the three mile long tunnel.

Even the height of the ceiling was specially designed to aid in defending the great inner palace. With the tunnel only six feet tall, it hindered soldiers yet allowed for the almost comfortable passage of invited guests, so long as he walked. Furthermore no man could ever ride a horse through the tunnel. This fact rendered enemy cavalry useless against the dwarves. Master Lepkin marveled at the wisdom of the design. Even if an army managed to fight its way through hordes of dwarven ranks without cavalry, which is unlikely in the first place, the dwarves could fall back and unleash the burning oil, and force the intruders out or slay them all in the tunnel. There was no threat that could get past this defense. Except for the power of Nagar’s Secret, Lepkin knew.

Lepkin quickened his pace. He hoped the dwarf king would see the impending danger, but wondered if Al was right. Maybe he was wasting his time. He shook the thought from his head. It was his duty to warn the dwarves of the danger. As the Keeper he was sworn to look after the chosen people of the Ancients. Even if the dwarves had turned away from the ways of the Ancients, Lepkin could at least give them this last warning.

The main gates to the hall were mostly shut, but a wall of golden light emitted from the slight opening in the extremely tall, arched doors of iron. Master Lepkin didn’t wait for the doors to be opened completely. He slipped through the small opening, sucking in his stomach and straightening as much as possible as he slid through. On the other side he let out his breath and straightened his belt before continuing.

The main hall was breathtaking. The vaulted ceilings almost disappeared well over two hundred feet above Lepkin’s head. He might not have been able to see them if not for the plated gold and platinum that reflected the light of the torches and oil lamps below. Each supporting column had been hewn and smoothed to perfection. The pink granite stone was smooth as silk and polished so much that one could almost use it as a mirror. There were some small stone buildings nearby; a guardhouse and a barracks for the Gate Patrol. Lepkin saw a pair of dwarves sitting at a wooden table outside the guardhouse, eyeing him suspiciously. Lepkin slid his cloak back to reveal his sword. The two dwarves nodded and returned to their game of cards.

He walked briskly past many more buildings of stone set against the wall of the western side of the great entrance hall. He didn’t stop to notice the looks that were cast his way or the dwarves that offered them. Counting the massive columns to keep his bearing, he turned to the right and walked through the market. There were tables with trinkets of all shapes and sizes strewn over them. There were also a few tables that offered vegetables, the kinds that grew inside the mountain, and there were others that offered clothing, books, or weapons. He didn’t even glance at the tables. He was too focused.

After crossing the market he wound his way up a spiraling staircase cut right into the stone of an irregularly large column. This wasn’t the staircase that important visitors, like the senator, would use to get to the throne room. This staircase was reserved for the Keeper only. It was a direct line from the entrance hall to the throne room. It was a tight fit, too tight to use torches and allow a man to pass through. Holes were cut into the sides of the column to provide a little extra light from the entrance hall, but it was still very dark. The darkness didn’t bother Lepkin though, he knew the way well enough. He was just happy that it would shave a half hour off of the time it would take to reach the king.

When he reached the top he pulled an old, white rope. A bell on the outside of the column rang as the door to the exit slowly swung on its hinges to allow Master Lepkin to enter the throne room. He saw only a few dwarves, mostly advisors, and a handful of human escorts, presumably for the senator, in addition to the dwarf king and the senator before him.

“I thought I ordered for that door to be sealed shut,” the king bellowed.

One of the advisors stepped forward. He wore a blue robe with the sigil of a dragon engraven into the brooch he wore. “But, my king, that passage has been in use for centuries.”

“I don’t care,” the dwarf king said. His eyes locked Master Lepkin’s. “I am not as blind as my father’s were. I do not see the intrusion of a self-empowered human to be a good thing. I want that passageway sealed, and I want him escorted out.”

Lepkin stood rigid. Even with what Al had said about the king, Lepkin had not expected this. He watched as two palace guards approached. He put his hands on his hips, taking care to keep the sword visible on his belt. “The Keeper of Secrets has come to hold audience with the king of the dwarves, the chosen people of the Ancients. I will not be moved until my message is delivered.”

The guards stopped in their tracks and looked back to the king.

“I am not interested in your superstitions, Keeper. The Ancients are nothing more than fairy tales passed down through the ages to control the minds of the dwarf folk. As long as I am king, I will not allow this control to persist.”

“I am here to open your eyes,” Lepkin countered.

“The king of the dwarves does not answer to the likes of you, knight errant,” the senator shouted. “I am here to negotiate with his highness in these troubled times, and your presence is not going to make this an easy task for me. Be gone!”

“I do not answer to the senate, Senator Bracken,” Lepkin replied coolly. “As you are well aware, the law grants me a position of authority that is autonomous from that of the kingdom. If you have a problem with that, you may take it up with King Mathias, but I have a hunch that he’ll agree with me.”

“King Mathias is an old fool!” the dwarf king bellowed. He hopped down from his throne, war axe in hand and marched over toward Master Lepkin. Senator Bracken bowed humbly and backed away. The dwarf king stopped three paces away from Lepkin and glared at him. His fierce, coal-black eyes were filled with indignation. The veins in his forehead stuck out, pulsing with the rage that ran through his hot dwarven blood. “King Mathias has not the power to hold this realm together. He relies on old superstitions to do that for him, and look what it has brought him in return.” The dwarf king pointed his axe at Lepkin.

Lepkin stood motionless. His lips were silent. Only his eyes moved as they shifted their gaze around the room and then back to the king’s angry stare.

“The Ancients will not protect us. The kingdom falls apart. Nobles are tearing at each other’s throats as we speak, and that senator back there wants me to swear my armies to the senate to ensure the peace.” The dwarf king turned back to Senator Bracken and spat on the ground. “I will not march my armies out from Roegudok Hall. The humans started this mess, let them finish it. That is my final decision on the matter.”

Master Lepkin could see Senator Bracken’s face redden, but the man kept silent. Yet, he did not move to leave. The senator watched the drama unfold between Lepkin and the king of the dwarves. Lepkin felt something then as he regarded the senator. He wasn’t sure what it was. It was almost like a voice whispering to him that something about Bracken was wrong, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came. Lepkin turned back to the dwarf king as the head of the axe came wagging closer to his face.

“I have another decision,” the dwarf king said. “The Keeper is no longer to be allowed entry into Roegudok Hall. He is to be regarded as a manipulative agent of King Mathias.”

“But, my king,” the advisor protested from behind.

“Be silent,” the dwarf king roared. “I will not have my kind led astray anymore by the chains of slavery that are known to us as the ways of the Ancients. Go back and tell that to your king, Keeper! We dwarves will remain here. Let the armies of man come to us for a fight if they wish. Roegudok Hall has never fallen, nor will we ever again bow to the puppet masters back in the senate, or that false king sitting on his throne in Drakai Glazei.”

“Then, for the sake of your people, I pray that you do not live long as king,” Master Lepkin said. His words were loud enough for all to hear.

The rage boiled in the king’s black eyes. “Alferug Henezard, I no longer require advice in the ways of the Ancients. You are dismissed. Leave your robes on the floor.”

Master Lepkin painfully watched the old dwarf undo the dragon brooch and let the blue robes fall to the floor. Then the dwarf was escorted out of the hall by two other palace guards. “You are a fool,” Lepkin said. “There are forces now that search for Nagar’s Secret. They seek to gain its power and take over the whole of the realm. You must return to the ways of the Ancients.”

“Our halls will not fall to any invaders,” the king said.

“Your halls have held because the wisdom that was given to your people when they built this place. The tunnel was designed by the Ancients, not by you.” Lepkin stepped closer to the king and pushed the axe out of his face. “The dark magic of Nagar the Black and Tu’luh will sweep through your halls faster than sleep overtakes the night. I have come to ask that you renew your loyalty to the throne, and pledge your swords in defense of the kingdom.”

“Ah, so you have timed your visit to coincide with Senator Bracken’s.”

“No, my assignment is independent of his, but apparently the senate also senses the close danger. Will you honor your duties?”

“I do not bow to the kingdom of men. We are the dwarves of Roegudok Hall. Guards, escort these pathetic men out of my palace, and see to it that they do not even so much as turn their heads back to look at me.” All of the palace guards moved, albeit hesitantly, to fulfill the command.

“You have condemned yourself to death,” Master Lepkin said. “I will let the shadows take you in their grasp. But, if you happen to survive through this, I will find you myself when this is all over and remove your stubborn head.” Master Lepkin pushed the king back and then looked to the guards. “I will see my own way out. If any of you lay a hand on me, I will see to it that you lose it.” With that, Lepkin walked to Senator Bracken and left with him and his assistants through the main halls to exit the palace.

The palace guard followed them en masse. Spears and axes were at the ready, but they kept their distance. They knew enough of Lepkin’s sword that they feared to test his threat.

Once they were all outside of the entrance tunnel a pair of palace guards spoke with the door guards. The door to the tunnel was sealed and the twin dwarves did their best to look menacing. Master Lepkin might have thought that it was funny, if not for the extreme sorrow he felt inside. He knew that there was nothing he could do to help the dwarf folk.

“I appreciate your attempt to save the negotiation,” Senator Bracken said as he climbed into his coach. Master Lepkin was surprised he had not noticed the coach before, but he figured that it had been put in one of the other stables that were around the side of the hill the tunnel was in. “It is a shame that it didn’t work.”

“I agree,” Master Lepkin said.

“Is it true that there are forces seeking the book?”

“It is,” Lepkin replied.

“I will have to inform the senate about this after I return from Lokton Manor then.”

Lepkin’s eyebrow shot up. “What business do you have there?”

“I have been assigned to conduct an investigation into a pair of murders. I am sorry, but I cannot divulge any more of the matter.”

Lepkin nodded knowingly and then leapt atop his horse. “Then, may the Gods bless your travels,” Lepkin offered.

“And may they keep you safe also,” Senator Bracken said with a smile.

Lepkin nodded and turned his horse south. Things were fragile enough without this kind of complication. He knew he needed to get to Erik before word of these murders did. He rode his horse hard for almost three hours. Sweat built up into lather on the animal, giving it a dark sheen as the sunlight struck it. Lepkin knew that he would have to rest his horse. It had gone beyond breathing hard and now little rivulets of blood were forming from its nostrils. In truth, he would be lucky if the horse would recover from the hard ride at all.

Master Lepkin halted his horse in a valley with rolling hills on three sides and a lush, green forest on the other. When he jumped off he also removed the saddle and let the horse wander to the nearby stream and drink the water there before nibbling on some of the grass.

“Good idea,” Lepkin said to his horse. He pulled some flat bread from one of the saddlebags and ripped a piece off in his teeth. He chewed slowly as his fingers felt a book in the bottom of the bag. He pulled it out and looked at it for a moment. He glanced up to his horse before sitting cross legged on the ground. He set the book in front of him on the grass and stared at it for a long time. The cover was black leather. He ran his right index finger over it, feeling the smoothness of the leather before he opened the book to the middle and stared at the blank pages.

“What would you use for a password, Orres?” Lepkin asked aloud. He placed his left hand on the open pages. “Lady Dimwater,” he said. Nothing happened. He thought for a moment. “Kyra,” he said. Still, nothing happened. “Kyra Dimwater,” he said finally. The pages remained blank. He closed the book and pondered to himself. He knew this type of magic, having seen it many times before. He knew it consisted of a series of invisibility spells weaved over the book so that only the one who knew the password could read the words. The magic could be undone, but Master Lepkin didn’t have time to find a wizard skilled enough to dispel the magic. In fact, he could only work with the book during times like this, when he was forced to take a break from traveling or from his other duties.

He wondered why Master Orres would betray him. He had known the man for most of his life, and it didn’t seem to make any sense to him. Orres had always been faithful, a little headstrong and overzealous at times, but faithful nonetheless. Perhaps this was simply a misunderstanding. Maybe there was a reason why Orres was searching for Nagar’s Secret. Lepkin shook his head even as he thought about it. The keeping of the book was a sacred calling. It could not be taken up by any man who felt like doing it. Only one called and chosen by the priests of the Valtuu Temple had the right to protect the book. Lepkin drummed Orres’ journal with his fingers. The answers he needed were just beyond him.

He spent the next hour trying all of the possible passwords he could think of. He went through the names of all of Orres’ relatives, living and deceased, that he knew of. He tried every word about Lady Dimwater he could think of. He even tried words about himself. Nothing worked. When he had exhausted every word he could think of he stood up, holding the book in his left hand. He walked over to the horse and inspected the animal.

The horse’s legs still shook and every once in a while it took in a large, slow breath. Lepkin knew it was too early to ride the horse again, but he had to get moving. He went back for the saddle. He could hear the horse’s grunting protest, but he had no choice. He hefted the saddle off the ground and turned back toward the horse.

Something knocked into his chest, hard. Lepkin looked down to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from the middle. He dropped the saddle and bent to a crouching position, fighting the pain. A few silhouettes appeared on one of the hills. In the late afternoon light Lepkin could just make out the black tattoos that streaked across the attackers’ bodies. Blacktongues.

Another arrow flew, silent and deadly, but Lepkin had seen this one before it took flight. His sword was out in a flash and the magical fire consumed the arrow before it could reach its target.

“You can’t beat us all,” a voice called from behind.

Lepkin turned to see a man in a black hooded robe emerge from the tree line of the forest. He had twenty more Blacktongues flanking him on either side. Lepkin knew at once that this was another warlock, of the same order as Tukai, though he knew not this warlock’s name. Lepkin slowly rose to his feet, keeping an eye on both groups.

More Blacktongues appeared over another hill.

“You have wasted your arrow,” Master Lepkin called out. “You will not get another chance to take my life.”

“Ha!” the warlock shouted. “Look around you! You can’t possibly defeat all of them. And even if you could, there is no way you are escaping my magic.”

“I have dealt with more than this at a time,” Master Lepkin replied.

“When you were younger, yes,” the warlock conceded. “But you are near fifty now, and you are starting the battle with an arrow near your heart. You will die today.” The warlock lifted his right hand and gave a shout. In one instant the entire world around Lepkin came alive with movement. Blacktongues jumped up from the long grass on the other side of the stream. The warriors on the hilltops nocked arrows and let them fly. The Blacktongues flanking the warlock rushed toward him, and the warlock was gathering a great fireball, encased with electrical energy that coursed over the flames like snakes.

Lepkin felt his innermost fears come alive. He knew what he had to do if he was to survive this battle. Even though he feared the pain that would come, he knew that it was not as bad as the effects of the old magic that would reach out to his mind. He closed his eyes and released the magic that bound him to his human form. Fire swept out from his sword, enveloping him in a cocoon of yellow and red flames. The arrows of the Blacktongues were turned to ash long before they could reach him. Many of the other warriors stopped and stared, dumbfounded. Even the warlock’s spell wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the shield.

A mighty roar erupted from the fiery cocoon. Golden light burst through the top and coursed straight into the clouds, like an arrow to the heavens. The light slowly burst through the remainder of the sphere, washing the entire valley in its blinding brilliance. Sounds like thunder and exploding rocks came from within the shattering sphere and then all went quiet as the light retracted into the perforated cocoon. The fire seemed to take over again, and then it expanded, exploding through the valley with such force that many of the nearby Blacktongues turned to ash. The heat wave rolled over the hills and into the forest as well, turning the grass and trees it touched brown as dirt. The warriors that remained alive were all thrown to the ground by its force. Even the warlock was powerless to defend himself.

The warlock smacked the flames that licked his robe with his hand until they died out. He rolled onto his knees and then, with grunting effort, pushed back up to his feet. He looked to the spot where Lepkin had stood, expecting to see the man exhausted from such an expenditure of magic. His mouth fell agape. Where Lepkin had been, a dragon now stood. Its four legs the size of strong tree trunks, tipped with talons on its toes. To say the body was massive would not even come close to describing the beast’s sheer size. Scales of coppery brown shielded the beast from the arrows that were sent toward it. They plinked off, glancing away like pebbles cast at a granite wall. Even the arrow that had found its way to Lepkin’s chest was not a threat now. The shape shift had melted the shaft away. The beast’s head had many horns protruding from it, as though it was a kind of mane for the dragon. The snout was long and filled with sharp fangs that the lips could not conceal. Smoke swirled out of the nostrils like silvery tendrils rising toward the clouds. The dragon waved its mighty spike tipped tail.

The warlock refocused and gathered the most powerful spell he could muster. The dragon roared in anger. Flames engulfed most of the remaining Blacktongues before the warlock could blink his eyes. He knew there was nothing he could do to defeat the dragon. The last thing he saw was the great, gaping maw filled with teeth closing around him from above.