From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Sep 14 16:01:27 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7684 Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!csulb.edu!nic-nac.CSU.net!usc!howland.reston.ans.net!swiss.ans.net!malgudi.oar.net!sun!vax.cns.muskingum.edu!hsexauer From: hsexauer@muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Subject: [Legacy] The Dragonlord's message Message-ID: <1994Sep13.101630.1@muskingum.edu> Lines: 224 Sender: root@sun.cns.muskingum.edu (Operator) Organization: Muskingum College Date: Tue, 13 Sep 1994 14:16:30 GMT "I think I rather like having a deity on our side," Ruel announced after Ryll had departed. "Makes it seem as if we have an ace in the hole, an added advantage that the Shekiren don't." Aleric grinned. "Seems that way, but don't get too cocky. This is a long way from over yet." With the impatience of youth, Elcoran tapped the scroll in Aleric's hands. "So what did she tell you about this? Messages from the dead tend to be every bit as important as the dramatics they go through to present it to you." His young face was alight with curiosity, grey eyes shining in the light from Xel'ha. The Lyorn fumbled with the scroll one handed, juggling it and the sword. Finally he gave up with an oath and sheathed Xel'ha, quenching its light as he stopped feeding it power. The gentle radiance from the crystals above gave just enough illumination to let them read the letters on the scroll. Aleric gasped; the series of lines that had been gibberish not five minutes ago had resolved itself into readable script. The characters had not changed, only his understanding. It was as if he had known the language since childhood, grown up speaking and reading it. "I think our beloved goddess may have indeed stepped around more than one boundary. Let me read to you what this says." Unrolling the parchment a bit further to see the whole message, Aleric began to read. "I write this in the last days of our resistance against my daughter, Euskaya, and the rest of the Sundered. During the long, bitter struggle I held hopes that despite the loss of the celestial blade we might overcome the Sundered on the strength of our people and the love of our goddess, the Sylvan Huntress. Those hopes now lie in shattered ruins. "Whatever force has aided Euskaya, it has made them virtually impervious to mundane weaponry. To this end, my paxman and companion Rategin of the Wolf clan had introduced me to a warlock known to him. Tevore, as the warlock is known, became our ally and forged a remarkable blade in the likeness of our celestial blade. Daring to infiltrate the Sundered's ranks, Tevore and Rategin attempted to reclaim the power of the sacred sword if not the vessel. They returned, but tell me that this was only partially successful. And yet, I can't help but doubt because I have seen the fiery blade kill Sundered in Rategin's hands. "Regretfully, this blessing comes too late to save the clans. In our confidence of our abilities, we did not unite soon enough. Each clan faced the demonspawn singly and lost many fine warriors before we learned the deadly nature of our foe. It is a shattered people I lead, with scarcely enough men and women hale enough to defend what little we have left to us. Forgive me, my goddess, that we must forsake you. Our last chance of survival is in the flight and hiding among the other peoples of the world. Of seven strong clans, there remain only five shadows of the originals. If any of the Ravens survive, I know not; and the Dragons, my own clan, were first to be slaughtered. I alone remain, having renounced Euskaya and all others who would follow her ways. "Even now those surviving clans are preparing to retreat. We resigned ourselves to this eventuality a week ago. Knowing the futility of our position, I called the duana Rialeth to advise me. She spoke in prophecy of a future hope, though it changed not the fate of my poor clansmen. It was with great sadness in my heart I commanded her to take the survivors and flee. Bearing my words and the prophecy, she gathered the remnants of our once proud tribe. Continuing with me are those who volunteered to protect their backs and some who refuse to yield to the Sundered. Rategin was one such. It grieves me much to know he has died, though he managed to prevent Euskaya from obtaining the fiery blade. Tevore is presently on his way to join Rialeth, removing the fiery blade from danger of being captured. "I go now to lead a selected troop of Lyorns in a delaying action, to give the others time to escape and let Tevore complete his mission. I pray to the Huntress that he may deliver the fiery blade safe unto Rialeth's hands, and escort her beyond the Hook of Janariak into the free lands. I know that I go to my death, for none of those who chose to remain with me will leave the battlefield alive. There will be no chance to retreat and regroup, not and have our loved ones escape. I will leave instructions for this diary to be placed with my ashes in my tomb should my body be recovered. Perhaps the Lastblood will find this account and let it give him strength in his task. Fair journey to you, son of the Clans, and may you deliver us from this fate." Aleric concluded his reading and paused. "It is signed 'Terel, Dragonlord. Chief of Clans.' A seal of some kind follows, presumably the seal of his clan." Silence fell as no one spoke after Aleric ceased. What the Lyorn held in his hand were the last words of a despairing man, not the legends or rumors they had been familiar with. Even Tevore, the same warlock who had carried Xel'ha from the scene of battle, had not spoken with such passion as had the Dragonlord. After six hundred years his memories had faded, the grim business of the past receded to remote events-- dry and emotionless. "Well," Aleric said with a deep breath. "It would seem his instructions were carried out at least. I wonder if any did survive that final engagement. Surely they weren't slain to a man." Elcoran shook his head slowly. "I don't see how they could have, facing such odds. And knowing their families' lives were at stake, I don't believe they thought beyond saving themselves long enough to buy time. A dear price it was too." He sighed, and straightened his thin shoulders. "Come on, we can do nothing more here. We're only delaying the inevitable." Following a faint trail worn into the stones of the floor by many passing feet, they mounted a steep spiral staircase that led into the keep proper. A narrow doorway set at the end of a back hallway passed the three into Highspire, and on into the kitchens at the other end. Filled with the usual accouterments of the trade, they took no interest in the room other than the several portals that led various directions. One obviously led into a side yard where animals had once been penned. A glance out this door showed extensive pens bordering the entire western side of the fortress. A pair of archways in the north took them to the banquet hall with its long tables covered with centuries of dust, although the floor showed many tracks through it of varying sizes. Ruel breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering this, having been worried about their footprints showing their presence. Beyond the hall, another larger arched doorway, rotting doors flung wide, was an even larger hall; probably used for formal functions and gatherings. It was rimmed with small alcoves where dignitaries could have conducted business in greater privacy, or held secret liasons; though Aleric greatly doubted much of that nature went on with the practical minded Lyorns. From the Great Hall, a grand staircase to the east swept gracefully to the second floor, overshadowing the only other exit from the room which appeared to connect to a receiving hall. Opting for the stairs, the wary intruders left the ground level behind, certain that Xel'eman would not be placed in the more functional everyday rooms of the lowest level. The next level would most likely contain the smaller council chambers, and private suites for both guests and inhabitants. Not knowing the layout or size of the keep, having never seen its outside, they wandered through the halls carefully keeping track of the direction as well as any rooms or closets that might serve as hiding places should they encounter anyone. Already they had slipped past a few nighthaunts ranging from the familiar watchers and ghouls, to the less familiar icari, and even a few they had no name for. Some had been insectoid in nature, others more humanoid but possessing lightly furred, or scaled skin. As yet, they had not been discovered, nor had anything shown an awareness at their proximity. Surprisingly, they had seen no Shekiren since entering. While that relieved the intrepid intruders immensely, it made them begin worrying about where those might be and what they were planning. At one point, Elcoran had just stepped into a room on the north court when his sharp ears detected a commotion. It originated from outside the walls, but there was not enough definition in the sounds for him to determine the cause. Whatever it had been, it did not last more than a few minutes from the time the elf first heard it. To be on the safe side, he beckoned Ruel and Aleric to join him and shoved them ahead into an antechamber where they could hide in relative safety. He closed the door all but a fraction after the Lyorn and took up a position behind it to watch. Ruel and Aleric silently assumed defensive postures and concealed themselves on either side of the entrance. "We'll stay here to see if anything develops. I'd rather not run smack into the very people we're trying to avoid if I can help it," Aleric murmured to his companions. Their prudence did not go unrewarded, for several minutes later, the sound of a door opening and closing startled them with its nearness. Elcoran hissed sharply, signalling the sight of something moving in the next chamber. Aleric touched his shoulder lightly. "What is it?" he breathed softly in Elcoran's ear. "Shekiren," the elf's answer came. Not only was there a Shekiren in the other room, the door opened again but did not close this time. Several more Shekiren were filing slowly into the room. Aleric stood behind Elcoran watching the proceedings with a hand on Elcoran's shoulder for balance. There were more than the ten Tevore had claimed, and still more of the pale cloaked figures crowded into the room. The odds were distinctly against them, not to mention the fact that Aleric and his friends were in an antechamber with no other exits as he suddenly realized with a sinking feeling. This definitely put a damper on his day. -- Heather Sexauer Muskingum College hsexauer@muskingum.edu Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. -- H.L. Mencken