"Dusk Of Innocence: Chapter 10" by Danielle D. Reynolds

Chapter 10

            The small, somber procession made its way to the gates of Argenault as the last rays of sunlight dimly touched the sky.  One of the guards ran forward.

            “Halt,” he said, “The city gates close at sundown.”

            “Then we are just in time,” Markas said, looking at the last feeble bit of sunlight as it faded into the twilight.

            “I’m sorry sir, but the gates have been shut,” the guard said, “None but citizens of Argenault my enter the city now, due to the orcs..”

            “We have urgent news concerning the orcs,” Ian said, riding forward, “Is Captain Jameson on duty?”

            “Aye, yes sir,” the guard said, “But I’d have to send word, you see…”

            “This is our urgent news for the Captain,” Ian said, indicating Lady Perval’s remains on the back of Kirin, “And we need to take it to him at once.”

            The guards eyes grew wide at the sight of a body. He paused and then said, “Follow me sirs.”

            The guard led them through a smaller gate and along the wall until they came to a large tower.  They left their mounts and entered the tower.

            “Do you know this Jameson?” Markas whispered to Ian as they climbed the tower stair.

            “Personally, no,” Ian , carrying Lady Perval, whispered back, “But I knew a name and sometimes a name is enough.”

            The guard knocked on the door at the top of stairs and was answered with an “Enter”.

            They followed the guard into the small chamber, which looked out over the Argenault Valley.  Seated at small desk was a handsome young man in uniform.

            “What is it?” he asked without looking up.

            “Captain, these people said they had news of the orc encampment and asked to see you.”

            “Couldn’t they have just given you this news.”

            “No, he couldn’t” Ian said, before the guard could reply.

            “Well,” Jameson said, “What is this news that you had to deliver personally?”

            Ian laid the bundle that contained Lady Perval on the Captain’s desk.  He pulled back the makeshift shroud to reveal her pale, bruised face.

            Captain Jameson’s face became pallid, his eyes widening with shock.

            “Evangeline?  What treachery is this?  What do you intend by this?” he cried as he jumped up.

            “She was taken prisoner by the orcs.  They did this to her,” Ian answered.

            “What proof do you have of this?” he asked, he eyes still locked on Lady Perval’s face.

            “You have my word,” Markas said, stepping forward, “And the word of these good people.”

            Jameson finally looked up at them, “And just who are you?”

            “I am Sir Markas Tau of the Golden Gryphons.  This is Miss Emily Rosewood of the Tower of Secrets, and Master Ian, mercenary.”

            “And, you swear, the orcs did this?” he asked, his voice faltering.

            “I witnessed it myself and will swear by Torus,” Markas said, “We sought to rescue her, but were too late.”

            “I will deal with this matter personally,” Jameson said, staring at Lady Perval, “Soldier, take these people to Alphesus.  He can tend to their injuries.  I have to go report to my superiors.”

            “Is that all your going to do?  Report this?” Ian asked, angrily.

            “No, it is not!” Jameson responded hotly, “Trust me, the orcs will be dealt with, one way or another!

“Very well,” Ian said turning to leave with the others.

“And…thank you.  Thank you for bringing her to me,” the captain said, suddenly sounding more tired.

“You’re welcome,” Ian said, as he nodded and started down the stairs.

*****

            As they followed the guard through the darkened streets of Argenault, a black blur came zooming down out of the night sky to them.

            “TiTi!” Emily exclaimed, as the raven gracefully landed on her shoulder.  He held out his leg to which was attached a small piece of parchment.  Emily removed it and slipped it into one her pouches.  From another, she produced some bird seed which TiTi eagerly gobbled up.

            “You were hungry,” she said, “I bet you’re tired too, after such a long journey.  Go find a place to rest.  We can meet up later.”

            TiTi cawed appreciatively and nimbly jumped off her shoulder and took off into the air above the city.  The guard was staring curiously at Emily when Markas came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

            “Sometimes, it just better to not ask,” he said, smiling, “So, who is this Alphesus?”

            “He is priest in the Order of the Martyrs, sir.  He runs their chapter house here,” the guard replied.

            “The Martyrs serve the poor,” Ian said, “I have enough to pay for treatment.”

            “Yes, but good luck trying to find a priest or healer at this hour,” the guard replied.

            “My injuries aren’t that bad,” Ian said, “I can wait until morning.”

            “Well, sir,” the guard replied, “I’m just following orders.”

            “And besides,” Markas added, “I would prefer that someone more experienced in these matters than myself take a look at you.  What I did was rudimentary first aid at best.”

            “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Ian said.

            “Please,” said Emily, “I’m sure it couldn’t hurt to have your injuries taken care of now?”

            “Fine,” Ian grumbled.

            They made their way to plain, but well kept building on a rather shabby street.  The guard knocked on the door and old man dressed in a simple homespun robe answered.

            “Greetings,” he said, “How may the Order of the Martyrs assist you?”

            “I’ve brought you an injury,” the guard said.

            “Ah, well come in, come in” the old man said warmly.  They entered as the guard saluted Markas and left.  They entered into the Order’s main chamber, a large common room furnished with simple tables and benches.  They followed him through another door into a smaller room which seemed to serve as the infirmary. A few bare cots lined the wall, one of which held a slight figure who occasionally coughed.

            “Here,” Markas said indicating Ian.

            “Ah, young man,” Alphesus said, “I’ll need to examine you.  If you can just remove your armor and shirt.”

            Ian reluctantly took off his breast plate and shirt while Emily obligingly looked the other way.

            “Ah, well it seems that someone has already healed the most serious injuries,” Alphesus mused.

            “That would have been me,” Markas replied, “However, I only know how to channel the energies granted to me by Torus.  I have no medical knowledge and couldn’t tell the extent of the seriousness of his injuries.”

            “Ah, my son, you have done well,” Alphesus smiled, “There are some injuries that should be attended to, but it is no trouble.”

            Alphesus pulled a simple clay medallion with the picture of two open hands on it from his belt.  Markas recognized it as the symbol of the god Amelas, the god of suffering and sacrifice.  This wasn’t really surprising, as from what Markas knew, the Order of the Martyrs had been founded by a priest of Amelas and the Order was the closest thing to an organized church for the Amelas’ followers.  Alphesus chanted softly and the medallion glowed faintly.  Its light traveled mist like around Ian’s bare and bruised chest.  The bruises faded and the gash above his ear disappeared completely.

            “There,” he said as he put the medallion away, “You may feel some stiffness the next day or so, but you should be fine.”

            “Thank you,” Ian said, as he pulled his shirt back on.

            “I know it is very late but why don’t you all join us for evening meal,” Alphesus said.

            “We wouldn’t want to put you to anymore trouble,” Ian said.

            “It is no trouble,” Alphesus replied, “We feed any who walk through our doors.  Besides, the taverns will not be open at this hour.  Thelonius!”

            A tall, willowy figure with bronze skin and a shaved head walked through the door.  He was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches and barefoot.

            “Thelonius, my brother,” Alphesus said, “These good folks will be joining us for evening meal.”

            “Ah,” he said, bowing to them.  He then retreated back through the door he came in.

            “Thelonius is what my order calls a Wanderer,” Alphesus said, as he checked on the other patient in the infirmary, “They are perhaps the closest thing we have to knights.  Like you, they are trained in combat and are called upon to defend the innocent.”

            “Ah, but unlike most knights they eschew all material goods,” Ian said knowledgably, “And their lives are dedicated entirely to wandering the world, helping any they find in need.”

            “You are familiar with our order then,” Alphesus said brightly, as he led them back into the common room.

            “Yes, old father,” Ian answered as he sat down, “And I know you will not take payment for your services.  But I must insist on making a donation to your Order.”

            “It is not necessary.”

            “I know, but I insist,” Ian said as he took several coins from his rather small purse and set them on the table, “You will probably put them to better use than I would.”

            “Then I thank you for your kindness,” Alphesus said, as he reverently picked up the coins and placed them into a donation box by the door.  As he returned to his seat, a door on the other side of the room creaked open and Thelonius entered with five bowls balance precariously on his arms and on top of his head.  As he approached the table, he gave a small shrug and the bowls bounced from him, up into the air spinning, then landed neatly in front of everyone without spilling a drop of the broth they held.  Emily clapped her hands, delighted.  Thelonius bowed slightly and then took his seat.

            “Ahem,” Alphesus cleared his throat, “Excuse Thelonius, he’s always had a bit of a flare for the dramatic.”

            “Oh, that was wonderful!” Emily exclaimed.

            Thelonius smiled, “Thank you, Miss…”

            “Emily.  Emily Rosewood,” she said, returning his smile, “And this is Sir Markas Tau of the Golden Gryphons and our good friend Ian.”

            “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Thelonius replied.

            “Shall we?” Alphesus said, nodding toward the food.  The others bowed their heads.

            “Oh most generous Gods, we thank you for this fare and humbly ask for you blessings for all who sit at this table.”

            They began to eat, when Ian turned to Emily and whispered, “What was your uncle’s reply?”

            Emily reached into the pouch and pulled out the curled up slip of paper. She read silently, as she did her face fell.

            “What is it?” Markas asked, “What does it say?”

            “My dearest Emily,” she began to read aloud, “It took me some time, but I have discovered a magical object that fits your description.  The text was several hundred years old and elven, dating back before the Great Schism that caused the Sylvari to leave the Qualari cousins.  It is indeed a magical orb that allows the wielder to mind control others.  While anyone could use the orb to control one other soul, in the hands of a powerful mage it could be made to control several at once.  The Qualari Elves, fearful that it would be used in the upcoming conflict with their cousins, secreted it away.  The orb had many names, but the one I think you will find most significant is the Heart of Archeos.”

            A stunned silence followed.

            “Well, at least we know he’s got one,” Ian finally said.

            “We need to report this to Sir Tiberius immediately,” Markas said rising to leave.

            “I’m afraid you will find that rather hard, as he is not in residence at the Order currently,” Thelonius said quietly.

            “How do you know this?” Ian asked.

            “Because, I came here seeking an audience with him on behalf of my own Order,” Thelonius said, “I was informed that he is still traveling back from the south and is expected to arrive tomorrow.”

            “Well, this definitely complicates things,” Ian said through gritted teeth.

            “I’m sorry if you cannot explain the situation more,” Thelonius said, “But my meeting with Sir Tiberius is in regards to state of affairs in the world right now.  I have my own news to convey to him as well.  I would gladly exchange my information with yours and perhaps you could come with me to my audience tomorrow to discuss the whole situation with Sir Tiberius.”

            Markas looked at Ian and Emily.  Ian seemed to assess Thelonius for a second then nodded.  Emily nodded as well.  Markas explained the events of the past few weeks with Ian and Emily filling in the gaps.  Thelonius and Alphesus listened intently.

            “Well, my information confirms what Sir Tiberius told you,” Thelonius said after Markas had finished, “I’ve come from our chapter house in the north.  There have been sightings of demons to the far north, north of Fursk.  But more disturbing is that the Northmen seemed to have disappeared.”

            “Disappeared?” Markas asked.

            “Well, there are those who still remain in towns like Fursk, Vorjran, and Rodel.  But none have come through the pass from Forscat or any of their other settlements for some time now.  Not one single trade caravan.  And those who’ve gone to investigate have not returned either,” Thelonius said, “Moreover, I continued to hear troubling stories on my journey here.  Several riots have broken out in Rodel.  Matra and Venan has seen a marked increase in the goblin population.  Several people have gone missing between Argenault and Castoia.  And the dwarves have stationed extra guards at all of their outposts.”

            “Outposts?”  Markas asked, “What kind of outposts?”

            “The dwarves live in the Underworlds,” Emily replied, “Most of the Underworlds are just that—places that simply exist under own world.  Huge caverns filled with wildlife native to that environment.  However, the deeper you go, the more sinister it becomes supposedly.  It’s said the ancient evil Maelus lies at the lowest point of the Underworlds.  The dwarves have various outposts where the more sinister parts of the Underworlds open to the rest.”

            “Yes,” Thelonius replied, “And the dwarves’ concern is so great that they have even sent an emissary to King Raythburn.  I traveled with him for much of this journey.   He is also to meet with Sir Tiberius tomorrow.”

            “My, my,” Alphesus sighed, “Such dark times.  But as the old saying goes, if you fear the dark, light a candle.” 

            “What good will one candle do?” Ian muttered.

            “It will help a little,” Alphesus said, “But imagine if everyone lit a candle.”

*****

            They spent the night at the chapterhouse and woke early the next morning.  They thanked Alphesus for all his hospitality.  Thelonius agreed to accompany them to the front gate as Ian wanted to see if any progress had been made on the orc situation.

            The morning sun rose over the horizon, filling the streets with a rosy haze that seemed to soften the otherwise cold, grey streets.  The lamplighters hurried along the streets, extinguishing the streetlights.

            Emily watched curiously and mused aloudd, “I wonder why they don’t have magic street lamps like in Carsonia?”

            “Because, this is where the Burning Times started hundreds of years ago,” Ian said, “And while other parts of the world have once again embraced magic, Argenault is still rather distrustful of it.  As is most of northern Crolis, truly.  It’s why I’d suggest you’d be as discreet as possible.  Argenault tolerates scholars, but just barely.”

            “Oh,” Emily blushed. 

She of course knew about the Burning Times.  They had happened well before she was even born.  She had read about it, though.  King Maien had grown increasingly paranoid about the wizards living Crolis and in particular the Wizard Council and High Mage Valert.  Eventually, fueled by the whisperings of his High Magistrate, the King ordered all magic destroyed and all wizards slain, starting with Valert and the High Council.  The wizards went into hiding, eventually finding sanctuary in Carsonia, which had been founded under the ancient law “Protected are all who enter this city.”  Carsonia then found itself at war with the rest of Crolis, which seemed to happen anyway from time to time in history.  The Sylvari elves, finding themselves in the middle of the conflict, sided with the wizards and Carsonia, as they themselves practiced magic and the ancient treaty they had with city held firm.  There were a few battles but eventually a treaty was reached.  The out and out practice of magic was still outlawed, but the “study of” magic was allowed.  Hence wizards became illegal, but scholars of magic were perfectly legal.  Carsonia became home to several universities, set up specifically for such study.  And really, at least in Carsonia, all that really changed was the terminology.

            But that had been hundred of years ago, before Emily’s time.  She mused it was odd, the elves always were remarking on the short memories of humans but here was an ancient prejudice that have survived as longer than the lives of some elves.

            As they approached the city gates, they saw a procession of knights enter the city, led by Sir Tiberius. Two of the knights carried a large shield between them on which lay a shrouded figure.

            “Sir Tau, Miss Rosewood, Master Ian, and Master Thelonius,” Sir Tiberius said, “I would wish you well met, but it is a grave morning indeed.”

            “What has happened?” Markas asked, glancing at the shrouded figured.

            “Well, I had hoped to be here sooner,” Sir Tiberius said, “But it seems Darklore decided to exact his revenge for the Temple of Sylva on the hamlet of Pfranc.  He unleashed the plague on them.”

            Markas’ jaw clenched, Emily gasped, and Ian cursed. 

            “By the time we got there, the whole village was infected.  We had to slay them all.  Then we burnt the village to the ground.”

            “Truly, then at least you freed the villagers’ souls,” Markas replied.

            “Yes, but that is not the worst of it,” Sir Tiberius said, “Like I said, it delayed us.  On our return, I had intended to confront the orcs encamped outside of Argenault on some rumors that had come to me that they had violated the terms of their treaty with King Rathbyrn.”

            “They had,” Ian interjected, “They had kidnapped the Lady Perval.  We tried to rescue her but…but we failed.  Kratlok killed her.  Thanks to one of the half-orcs in his camp, we were at least able to retrieve her body.  We returned it to Captain Jameson, but he didn’t seem as if he were going to do anything.”

            “I’m afraid that is far from the case,” Tiberius said, glancing sadly at the shape on the shield.  Did you not know that Captain Jameson had at one point been betrothed to the Lady Perval, before her father was incarcerated?”

            “No,” Ian said, as his face went ashen.

            “We found him where the orc encampment was.  He must have been unable to convince his superiors to go confront the orcs.  So he went by himself.  And they slew him.”

            A silence followed.  Emily looked at Ian and Markas and could see her own guilt reflected in their eyes.  They had been the ones to take Lady Perval to Captain Jameson. 

            “Wait,” Thelonius said, “You said where the orc encampment was?  What happened?”

            “That was the strangest part of all,” Tiberius said, a dark expression on his face, “The orcs were gone by the time we arrived.  The encampment, everything.  Only poor Captain Jameson’s remains were there.”

            “I’m afraid we have dire news for you too,” Thelonius said.

            “That is not unexpected in these times,” Tiberius said wearily, “I must return Captain Jameson to his family.  I will meet you at the Order’s mother house shortly.”

            Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes and she felt rather guilty as she wished for nothing more but to return to the safety of the Tower so she would never have to experience any such tragedy again.