I. A Legend Falls
Joresal’s feet caught on his own robes causing him to stumble along the corridor momentarily as he tried to catch his balance. Steadying himself, he squinted at his surroundings to get an idea of what lay ahead. Either his eyes had finally failed him in his old age or there was only empty space before him.
“No!” he thought. “There has to be another way.” He scrambled forward slowly inching through the pitch black darkness before him. It wasn’t long before he heard the hiss and crackle of fire nearing him as well as the smell of burning tar mixed with flesh. Panicking even further, Joresal struggled to move his legs but noticed that they had sunk into the floor trapping him.
He heard a muffled groan behind him and turned slightly to get a glimpse. His heart constricted in terror as he saw a flaming abomination of a creature a few feet away. The creature was ablaze and the source of the moans that filled the corridor appeared to be coming from the skulls that adorned its body in various parts. It dragged a flaming sword behind it as it shambled closer to Joresal.
Unable to tear his eyes away from what seemed like his impending doom, Joresal raised his right hand to bat away the monster’s arm that was stretching towards him. One of the skulls opened its mouth and screamed…
“Master Saber!”
Joresal woke with a start and nearly fell off the chair he had fallen asleep on. He shook his head trying to gather his senses and realized that he was actually in the study of the family keep. The room was large but it was difficult to tell with the stacks of books, scrolls and devices that littered the floor. A pounding on the study door startled Joresal once again and he scowled at the door as if it were at fault.
“Master Saber!” called a young man’s voice again from behind the door. Joresal stood up slowly feeling the knots in his legs complain from his night’s slumber. He cursed his legs as he shambled and weaved his way to the door. Given the number of times he had fallen asleep on that chair, you’d think his legs would be used to that sleeping position already.
“If you’re trying to break the door down young Kendrick, you’re going about it all wrong,” he reprimanded as he approached. “Otherwise, show a bit of patience until I open the door.” When he finally opened the door, Joresal noticed the beads of sweat on Kendrick’s brow, a sign that he must have rushed up the long flight of stairs of the tower. He was shifting from one foot to the other visibly trying to keep from blurting out whatever information he had and yet at the same time looked uncomfortable to be there.
“General Arthyle is dead Master Saber,” Kendrick burst out unable to contain himself any longer. Embarrassed, he steadied himself and continued on. “Initial reports stated that it was an assassin’s work when they were camped in the Gaderi deserts.”
Stunned by the news, Joresal stood in silence oblivious of the young man before him now fidgeting with the awkward silence. Kendrick cleared his throat which brought back Joresal’s focus. “And my son?” he asked.
“Nothing was said Master,” Kendrick responded. “The messenger delivered news only on General Arthyle before getting back on his mount to continue on. He did say that the army was still relatively intact.”
That fact did not ease Joresal’s mind for his son because he was aware of what Arthyle had planned. Arthyle was a great tactician and would weigh the advantages and disadvantages of each and every action. However, when an opportunity arose where the success of a plan could greatly tip the favour to his side, he would willingly take that risk or in this case, others loyal to him, like Joresal’s son, would put themselves on the line.
Noticing Kendrick still standing before him, Joresal waved him away. “Go and attend your duties. I’ll need to inform the Mages Council if they’re still unaware of the news.” Kendrick looked uncertain about leaving the old man to himself but quickly changed his mind when a scowl formed in his Master’s face. He bowed hastily and started down the stairs in a pace reserved for the young.
Alone again, Joresal closed the door to the study and looked at his experiments on the other side of the room. His bones ached at the thought of what he would need to accomplish if he was to see his son alive once again.
II. Guardian’s Oath
Arthyle was once Joresal’s student and eventually became a good friend as the years passed. They had had many philosophical and theoretical discussions which had opened his eyes to new insights and a deeper understanding in various disciplines. However, in the last couple of months, more often than not, they ended up on opposite sides of an argument. The last one happened three months ago as Arthyle was preparing to embark on a major offensive against the Gaderi.
***
“If you’re thinking of trying to persuade me to reconsider once again, I suggest you turn around already,” Arthyle said. “I’ve made up my mind and you of all people should know how futile it would be to argue with me at this point.”
“No. I knew I lost that battle a while back,” he admitted. “You’re as stubborn as a mule and I’ve no wish to butt heads with you once again.” He stood quietly watching Arthyle go about packing his maps and gear in a well-organized manner.
“I’ve instead come to give you another option for your plan,” he continued. “Remember the research I’ve been working on with portals? I believe I’ve found evidence of the ability to create portals that are not limited to a short period.”
Arthyle stopped what he was doing and looked sceptically at Joresal. “Have you validated this with the Mages Council?” he asked.
Joresal waved in annoyance at him, scowling at the thought of the Council. “Bah! Those involved in the Council only concern themselves with the politics of the realm rather than achieving anything of note.” He moved closer to Arthyle and eased himself onto a chair.
“In the old texts that I consulted, it spoke of instances where a magician would cast a portal that could sustain itself without any duration limit,” he said becoming more animated as he spoke. “Imagine the possibilities of such a thing! Your supply logistics will not be such a headache as it is now. Your enemies will never be able to anticipate where you’ll strike from. Reinforcements can enter a battle without having to march for days and your wounded can be carried back to healers who have all the equipment they need.”
As Joresal described the different possibilities, Arthyle himself got lost thinking of the many ways he could use this to his advantage. After a while, he shook his head out of his reverie. “We can go on about the various uses but the let’s bring this back to reality. Have you been able to do what you have described?” he questioned.
Stopping mid-sentence, Joresal looked indignantly at him. “Of course not! I’ve only uncovered this information about a week ago. I’ll still need to retrieve other texts to do a full research on this. Something this ground-breaking takes a bit of time.”
Arthyle shrugged and continued with his packing. “Time is not something I have to spare at the moment. I’m pushing through with my plan to split the army so that one will go through the northern mountains of Lyth to ambush the Gaderi at the right time. If I don’t leave immediately, I’ll miss my chance as I’m not sure how much longer the ice bridge will hold as the season passes.” He stopped and looked directly at the old man. “Your son has volunteered to be part of that ambush group.”
Joresal controlled his initial reaction to curse the boy. If his mother was still alive, she might have a chance of persuading him to stay but even that was a slim chance. Arthyle was a charismatic leader and he inspired loyalty like only few can. “I’m sure when he heard ambush, that silly boy was probably the first to jump at the opportunity,” he grumbled. “But can’t you see that with a permanent portal, you don’t even need to rely on the ice bridge. You can just create an ambush at any time that you want!”
Arthyle moved aside some boxes on the table so that he could sit in front his former teacher. He put a calming hand on his shoulder to reassure him from the worries that were sure to surface. “Your son is more than capable of handling himself,” he said with assurance. “He will also be with the most elite of my men so you know that there will be others he can depend on.”
“He’s all that I have left Arthyle,” Joresal sighed.
“He’s your son Joresal but to me he’s like a little brother. As long as I have breath in my body, I promise I’ll bring him back to you alive.”
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