Emerald of the Elves (26 page)

“I have information about Black Devils in the city,” declared the stranger. “Who should I speak to?”

“You can tell us,” suggested one of the guards. “We will see that the information gets into the right hands.”

“I do not trust my life to mere chance,” the stranger shook his head. “I will speak to the person in charge of such things, or not at all.”

The guards frowned and conversed in whispers. The stranger appeared not to notice as his eyes gazed through the gates to the courtyard beyond. One of the guards turned and entered the courtyard. He returned a few minutes later with Sergeant Trank.

“You have information for me?” asked Sergeant Trank.

“I do,” nodded the stranger. “Perhaps we can step off the street to speak?”

Sergeant Trank peered at the man for a few seconds before nodding. “Right,” he nodded. “Follow me.”

The stranger followed Sergeant Trank through the gates and into a small hut designed to allow the gate guards a place to get out of the weather.

“Who are you?” asked Sergeant Trank.

“The name is Tashlan,” replied the stranger. “I am a Black Devil.”

The sergeant’s hand went to the hilt of his sword and the stranger snickered. “I will not harm you,” smiled Tashlan. “I am here to help you.”

“And why would a Black Devil want to help the crown?” retorted Sergeant Trank.

“I have lost faith in the Black Devils,” declared Tashlan. “I understand now that we are on the wrong side in this conflict. Your new king has the right of it, and I would like to be a part of building Tagaret back up to its previous glory.”

“Don’t mind me if I am skeptical,” chuckled the sergeant. “I have never seen a Black Devil with a heart before.”

“I would be surprised if you had accepted my statement at face value,” smiled Tashlan. “I can prove my sincerity though.”

“Oh?” questioned Sergeant Trank. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“I can tell you where Black Devils are in Tagaret,” grinned Tashlan. “Surely that will prove the earnestness of my statements.”

“I am listening,” Sergeant Trank said suspiciously.

“There is a cobbler six doors to the right of the Falcon’s Hood,” Tashlan said softly. “There are rooms above the cobbler, two rooms per floor. On the third floor, in the room on the right, you will find three Black Devils.”

“And how do I know that they are Black Devils?” questioned the sergeant. “You would not be the first person to attempt to use the Alcea army to settle scores with competitors.”

“A fair question,” nodded Tashlan as he squiggled his fingers into a special position. “If you have anyone who has ever infiltrated the Black Devils, they will be familiar with the sign that I am making with my fingers. It is a recognition symbol used by the Black Devils. Anyone who replies to that signal with one of the same is admitting that they are Black Devils. You will find that the three men that live above the cobbler will respond appropriately.”

Sergeant Trank stuck his head out the door and called to his men. Two of the Red Swords came running.

“I want you two men to guard this man,” ordered the sergeant. “He has done nothing wrong, but I do not want him to leave. I will be back shortly.”

Tashlan smiled as the sergeant went running off. Sergeant Trank ran to General Gregor’s office. He knocked and was allowed entry where he saw Alex talking to the general. He quickly told of the conversation that he had with Tashlan.

“I don’t buy it,” Alex shook his head. “Black Devils do not change sides.”

“Maybe not,” sighed General Gregor, “but it is something that we have to check out. We have Black Devils in the dungeon. We should be able to devise a scheme to verify if the hand signal is authentic.”

“Zackary Nolan could portray a Black Devil well enough,” suggested Alex. “Let’s find out if the signal is valid. If it is, we pick up the three men above the cobbler and interrogate them.”

“I agree,” nodded General Gregor. “Let’s find out if Tashlan is on the level.”

“I will handle the operation,” offered Sergeant Trank. “If this Tashlan is for real, I don’t want some recruit exposing him and letting the enemy know that we are on to them.”

“It is in your hands, Sergeant,” nodded General Gregor. “Keep me informed of the results.”

* * *

“We are awfully close to the Darkness,” warned Fredrik. “If we keep on this trail, we shall be under it soon. We should turn around now.”

“Not yet,” Boris shook his head. “We have just a short ways to go from here.”

“I remember this land,” offered Niki. “We are not far from that desert town. Dubar, I think you called it.”

“That is correct,” smiled Master Khatama. “Dubar is not far up this trail.”

“Is that where we are heading?” asked Fredrik.

“No,” Boris replied. “There is a nice campsite not far south of Dubar. We will make camp there tonight.”

“I am worried about you, Master Khatama,” stated Fredrik. “We know little about the Darkness. Supposed its effects spread wider than what is visible? You could be endangering yourself by being this close.”

“As I taught you, Fredrik,” smiled Boris, “there are risks associated with knowledge. I understand the risks to myself, and I have accepted them. It is necessary for the furtherance of knowledge.”

Fredrik sighed as he began to realize that he would get nothing further out of the old man. He let his mind wander over the magic lessons that Master Khatama had given him to study. A while later, his mind was jarred back to reality when Boris pulled the wagon off the trail and into a secluded campsite.

Everyone climbed down from the wagon and began their daily activities in silence. Niki tended to the horses. Fredrik gathered what wood he could find and built a campfire. Master Khatama prepared the meal. They ate in silence and Fredrik prepared for his nightly lesson in magic. Surprisingly, Master Khatama rose after the meal and stood at the wagon instead of beginning his tutoring. Fredrik rose and walked to the wagon.

“Is something the matter?” Fredrik asked. “You seem out of sorts tonight. Are you sure that the Darkness is not affecting you?”

“I just need sleep,” Boris said without turning around. “I think I will turn in early this evening.”

Fredrik frowned as Master Khatama headed off for bed. He returned to the campfire and sat next to Niki. “I am fearful for him,” Fredrik stated softly.

“He said he was tired,” shrugged Niki. “You can survive one night without your magic lessons. Maybe you can spend some time with me tonight instead of Master Khatama.”

Boris listened to the banter as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. When he awoke hours later, the night air was still. The campfire had gone out, and Fredrik and Niki were sleeping. Master Khatama rose quietly and grabbed his staff. He walked out of the campsite and crossed the trail they had been riding on earlier in the day.

It took half an hour of walking before Master Khatama reached the edge of the Great Sordoan Desert. He looked around warily as the moonlight cast a ghostly light across the sand. Satisfied that he was alone, Boris transformed into an owl.

The owl launched itself off the ground and flapped its powerful wings. Within seconds, the owl was soaring over the vast wasteland of the desert. While carefully keeping an eye on the edge of the Darkness, the owl scouted the terrain for a dried up pond in an ancient oasis. When the oasis was located, the owl glided to the ground and transformed back into Master Khatama.

Boris chuckled inwardly as he gazed around the old oasis. It appeared to have been abandoned ages ago, although an old well still remained. Boris cast a spell to counteract the Zarlu’s Dispersion illusion that protected the place from casual visitors. He walked to the well and descended the spiral staircase inside it. At the bottom of the steps he was suddenly enclosed in a magical cage. He smiled as he waited.

“Egam,” greeted Hakim. “It has been a long time since my master has seen you. I will get him.”

Hakim disappeared down a corridor and returned moments later with his master. Mustar waved his hand and dismissed the cage.

“I wondered if you still lived,” greeted Mustar. “A great deal of time has passed since your last visit. Come into my study.”

Egam walked quietly to Mustar’s study and sat down. Mustar closed the door and then sat behind his desk.

“You are not your usual jovial self,” observed Mustar. “Something dire must be on your mind. What is it?”

“The Darkness,” nodded Egam. “I seek to understand the essence of it.”

“It has fled from over my home,” commented Mustar, “although it begins again just a few leagues away. I had a visit from Jenneva a while back. She indicated that the Ancient Prophecy has begun. She claimed to have the Sword of Heavens and the Children of the Ancient Prophecy. I believe the clearing of the Darkness is her work.”

“That is quite correct,” nodded Egam, “but I am more concerned with what the Darkness is, than how it is being banished.”

“The Darkness is the result of a magical spell,” frowned Mustar. “I am sure that is not the answer that you are seeking. My information is that it was cast by Sarac after Alutar anointed him as the Dark One.”

“Correct again,” declared Egam, “but for what purpose?”

“Its purpose is obvious,” Mustar began and then halted. “I admire your abilities enough to know that the obvious would not bring you here to discuss it. Tell me you concern with the Darkness.”

“I believe that the Darkness is the embodiment of evil,” stated Egam. “I believe that Alutar gave the spell to Sarac for a specific purpose, and I struggle to determine what that purpose is. I do not believe that its purpose is to herald the wonderment of Sarac. Nor do I believe that its purpose is to kill all life, although I do believe that given enough time, that is exactly what it would do.”

“Fair assumptions,” Mustar nodded after a moment of thought. “As a student, I would attack the problem by analyzing the symptoms of the spell. So far, all we know is that it blots out the sun and claims territory for the Dark One.”

“I believe it also causes people to lean more towards their evil side,” added Egam. “Of course that could be just a reaction to the lack of sunlight.”

“Hmm,” pondered Mustar, “There may be something in what you say. Certainly I will agree that irritability is more common under the Darkness, but that is precious little to go on.”

“It also is causing problems with my memory,” admitted Egam.

“Are you sure that your memory loss is not just old age?” questioned Mustar.

“I am sure,” asserted Egam. “Since the Collapse and the beginning of the Darkness, I have slowly lost memories. Certainly one can attribute such a loss to old age, but I am positive that that is not the case.”

“While you have changed little in all the years that I have known you,” chuckled Mustar, “forgive me if I take your statement with a bit of skepticism.”

“You are forgiven,” smiled Egam. “When the Sapphire of the Fairies was restored, the Darkness fled from the skies over Cordonia. While I was not in the affected area, my memory loss increased. The same is true when the Unicorns’ Opal was restored to the Sword of Heavens.”

“Those two events are chronologically in order,” Mustar pointed out. “Therefore, any increase in the rate of loss cannot be tied to the individual events. One can merely observe that your rate of loss increased over time. I am surprised that you would present such faulty logic.”

“Allow me to continue,” countered Egam. “When the Diamond of Edona was restored, I was present. I collapsed with magical shock. When I came to, my memory loss began to reverse itself.”

“Interesting,” mused Mustar. “Reversing memory loss is a rare occurrence. Perhaps this magical shock had some effect upon you. What caused it?”

“The Diamond of Edona,” declared Egam as he held up his hand to ward off any objections. “My memory improved over a period of days until suddenly, it reversed again. Interestingly, the trigger for the reverse was residing under the Darkness once again. You see, I was traveling to Tagaret and had to pass through the Darkness to get to my destination. This time my memory loss was dramatically swifter.”

“You are drawing inferences that I still find dubious,” responded Mustar. “Tying the reverse to an observable event is valid, but not when it stands alone. I would have to see a repeat of the occurrence before I would buy into your reasoning.”

“Understood,” nodded Egam. “I was also present when the Dwarven Ruby was restored. Once again I collapsed from magical shock. When I woke up, my memory returned at an astounding rate. My conclusion is that the Darkness, and whatever effects it carries, is concentrated in the remaining areas under the Darkness. This would explain the increase in the rate of loss of my memory.”

“And the increase in the rate of your recovery?” posed Mustar “Are you saying the reverse is true? That the greater the area freed from the Darkness, the greater your rate of recovery?”

“That is the only way that I can explain it,” Egam nodded in frustration. “This puzzle is confounding me.”

“If it is confounding you,” sighed Mustar, “perhaps it is because you are tying things together that do not belong together. The first problem that I have with your reasoning is that the Darkness was made just to affect you. While many mages like to think they are special, most of those who have matured like you and me, realize that such an assumption is vain and ridiculous. Why should the Darkness affect your memory and not mine?”

“Because I have a special relationship with Alutar, its creator,” Egam declared. “I am his nemesis.”

“That is ridiculous,” Mustar shook his head. “The nemesis of the Great Demon is the Mage. The Mage has not been heard of for centuries. You couldn’t possibly…”

“I am,” confessed Egam. “It is not that I sought to withhold this information from you. I, myself, was unaware of it for most of my time in this Universe. It was only after passing through a Junction some twenty years ago, that my memory was awakened. That was when the Ancient Prophecy began.”

Mustar sat in silence as he stared at Egam. He drummed his fingers on the desk for several minutes as his mind whirled. Finally, he looked at Egam and sighed.