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| "Initium Ultio" - Part Two | | | Author: | | | IP: | 63.117.2XXXX | | Date: | 04/11/01 08:04 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 2, Max: 8, Min: 6
Lifetime Rating for Nafarias: 6.8889 |   | (This is part two of the Heretic fanfic. If you haven't read part one then you are screwed. Go back and read it and then come back... :) I've included some pix this time for the visually desperate.)
PART TWO...
Much was as he remembered it. The guardhouse opened into a small storage area where barrels of goods had been unloaded when ships docked. Barrels were here still, though all were moldered and broken like tombstones amid the wooden pillars of the room. Beyond the room to the south was the main docking area.
As Corvus’ eyes adjusted to the gloom he saw a thing he had forgotten. To the west beyond a small cluster of barrels was the faint outline of a door. It seemed untouched and he pressed the hidden catch. The dock guards had a cache of weapons and armor in this small room, cautionary tokens of vigilance in times of peace. Corvus searched the rusted and aged weapons for some tool that might aid him, but found that only a lone shield that was still serviceable. The shield was little more than a buckler, but its solid feel on his arm comforted him.
He left the hidden room and went east, passing the open dock. His goal was not to explore the haunts of his youth – but to pass into the further reaches of the city to learn how he might seek out D’Sparil himself. The dungeons were his goal. He knew how to get to them. The eastern door from the guard area opened into a passage with a door to the north that led to a set of stairs. The dungeon gate was near the head of those stairs.
But a portcullis had been lowered and the passage east was barred. Corvus knew this barrier, but thought it would have been destroyed. D’Sparil it seemed retained the wisdom of security. The portcullis, despite the dotage of SilverSpring, seemed almost new. The steel was strong and he could not force it.
Corvus turned back to the guard chamber and peered out into the docks. It was not empty. Above in the air were many gargoyles. These beasts were not soldiers, nor strong warriors, but they were dangerous when many were grouped together. Claws and fangs they had, and others there were that spat fire – the captains of their kind. Corvus gripped his wand and leapt into the room – casting ether-fire at the nearest of his foes.
The creatures hissed and rasped as they became aware of him. Corvus felt as if time slowed around him and the actions of his enemies were like a dream. He watched himself almost with dispassion as he fought the creatures. First one and then another died, collapsing into the shallow waters.
And then it ended. Five at least lay at his feet, dead or dying. And Corvus, Sidhe of the Firstborn, was alone again. He remembered a time when he mourned the loss of any living thing. No more. These deaths brought him a grim pleasure alien to his race, a taste he relished, though it was sour to his mouth.
Corvus ascended a raised stair to the west that bordered the large open docking area. At the stairs end was the quartermaster’s office. As a boy he had often stood in the office. The quartermaster had been a kind soul, and suddenly Corvus wondered what had become of him. The quartermaster had allowed Corvus to watch as ships came to SilverSpring. To the south, not far from the office, was a large portcullis where smaller ships could enter the docking area to unload. Past the portcullis was a haven for ships and beyond that was the bay to the sea.
The office was now empty. Corvus remembered, however, that there once had been a key to the main portcullis that barred his way to the dungeon. This key the quartermaster had kept in a safe. Corvus found the safe, hidden still behind a wall panel. A few blows from his staff shattered the aged hinges. The key was still there, a yellow diamond of crystal, unsullied by time. Corvus took it and raced back to the portcullis east of the guard area.
The key slid into the lock and the portcullis raised easily. As he stepped into the passage, Corvus was immediately attacked by golems set to guard the pass. These creatures, if creatures they could be called, were among the most abominable of D’Sparil’s creations. Made of crudely shaped stone, they were held together by the vile arcane arts of the disciples of D’Sparil.
Inside these monsters dwelt the imprisoned souls of mortal men – which animated the golems. They had given up their mortal bodies in exchange for immortal bodies, escaping the bonds of flesh. But immortality came at a cost, a cost which the disciples of D’Sparil hid. The golems were bound to their masters and could not act save at their behest. Thus imprisoned and enslaved the golems were filled with rage that they could not turn on any save those their masters commanded.
Corvus unleashed elven-fire upon them. More than any of D’Sparil’s servants, the golems offended him. On they came like juggernauts, seeming immune the power of the elf rod. Then one split apart, collapsing into a pile of rocks while the imprisoned spirit vanished with a wail into the ether towards whatever damnation awaited it. The others fell as Corvus retreated from them. The golems were slow and could not close with Corvus to strike him with their unnatural strength.
Corvus felt weary after this battle and knew even his Sidhe strength could not long sustain such intense use of the elven wand. As he passed the fallen golems, however, he saw something in the corner of his eye. A small, ethereal crystal gleamed in the stones. As he leaned over to touch it he recognized it. It was the welled strength of the spirit he had vanquished.
Only the Sidhe could see these crystals – for they existed only in the realm of ether. Elven eyes could descry them, and elven hands could harness their power. All souls, Sidhe or mortal, carried the crystals in one form or another. They housed the spirit as it traveled through the ether. The crystals, it would seem, could be used by the disciples of D’Sparil to create the terrible creatures that now comprised their armies. At his touch the ether crystal yielded it’s strength up to Corvus – replenishing him.
And yet this disturbed Corvus – this raping of the power of the ether. If D’Sparil’s minions were, as he feared, all akin then they could only be forever dispelled by the death of D’Sparil himself. A great strength was needed to forge a body that was fit to mortally house the crystals. The disciples of D’Sparil lacked this strength. The Serpent Riders, Corvus deemed, lent their power to these creations and even if the monsters were beaten they could be raised again. All the more reason, he thought, to hasten D’Sparil’s end.
Corvus continued eastwards, coming to the entrance that led north to the dungeon. A portcullis blocked the passage. Corvus had feared that if one portcullis has been closed then they all would be. The gate, which was designed to prevent the escape of prisoners from the dungeon area, now stopped him from entering. Corvus did not know where the key had been bestowed, and was at a loss.
Undaunted, he decided to search the other areas of the docks. Undoubtedly one of D’Sparil’s servants held the key. He would find it and take it. He turned east to the door that led to the storage rooms where stuffs from the docks were often held. Opening it quietly he peered around the corner where a hallway extended to the south. Along the east and west walls were several doors leading to storage rooms. The hall opened into a large circular room with open windows looking out into the ship haven.
Corvus saw no one in the hallway and searched the rooms to the east and west, hoping among the barrels and cases to find the key to the dungeons. Instead he found only golems and gargoyles. In the close quarters of the storage rooms he was not able to avoid the creatures easily, and several times he was battered by stony fists or raked by sharp claws.
The Sidhe, however, were not easily slain. They were strong, and even when wounded could battle on. Also, the elves were able to draw strength from the ether itself to knit their torn flesh. This blessing came in the form of ethereal flasks and jars that held powerful magic. Being of the ether, they could only be seen by the Sidhe, and so were untouched by D’Sparil’s creatures. These items were not common, and it was only occasionally that Corvus would find them among the littered remains of SilverSpring. Still, they gave him the vitality necessary to recover from the wounds incurred at the hands of his spawned enemies.
Corvus leaned against the southern wall of the eastern storage room with weariness. He had slain all of the gargoyles that had their dens in this disheveled chamber. Cobwebs waved in the draft and gave the room an unkempt appearance, almost like a close and shaggy gray clearing in a long deserted garden. As he rested he could hear the waves of the sea to the south, rushing faintly into the haven. In the still chamber he heard another noise. To the north, where he had already been, he heard the faint sound of drawn air – the cautious breathing of a thing that wished to hide.
Fearing some other creature of D’Sparil, Corvus silently stepped towards the sound. As he drew closer, he could sense that some creature was concealed in one of the barrels along the north wall. Corvus kicked the barrel and it collapsed, weakened by age. A dark figure fell from the wreck and dived away from Corvus, but the elf swiftly grappled and held it. A ray of hope and happiness came over him, for he knew on sight that this was not a servant of the Dark one. It was Sidhe.
“Leave me be! Leave me be!” cried the ragged figure. But Corvus would not release him.
“Be silent and be still!” he hissed in the figure’s ear. Gladness was in Corvus’ heart, but the situation demanded wariness. In another time and place he would have greeted any of his race with kind words, but in the City of the Damned he dared not risk alerting the minions of his enemy that may yet lie in wait.
The figure ceased to struggle and slumped onto the cold stone floor. Corvus released his hold and turned the figure about. With a gasp he saw the face of the quartermaster Varthis, who had once been the Sidhe in charge of the entire dock. Pity touched Corvus as he looked for Varthis was now almost skeletal, his clothes in tatters, and his fair face pinched with terror long endured.
Varthis too paused as he regarded Corvus, and the windows of his memory – grimed with disuse – slowly cleared. A sudden expelling of breath, an expression of unforeseen hope, escaped him.
“Am I deceived again?” Varthis asked. “Do apparitions of the past now come to haunt my tortured mind? Speak now and either dispel or confirm my joy.”
“I am Corvus. Your eyes are not false, nor is your mind weak. I have come back.”
Varthis’ face darkened again. “You should not have come. Death is here. Pain is here. You must leave now and never return.”
“Pain and Death stalk the whole of Parthoris. Why flee them here only to find them elsewhere? I will not leave. I have come to vanquish D’Sparil and I will not rest until I conquer or perish.” Corvus spoke grimly, but feared that his words would upset his friend.
“It has been long since you were here. The boy that troubled me in my office has grown into a strong man with hate in his eyes. But your hate alone will not carry you far. I have seen horrors that none should see, and I know better than you the greatness of your undertaking. Abandon your hate and live what life you can before the end comes; do not rush to destruction. Soon our people will wither and go out and then the night will fall. Your hate cannot stop that.” Varthis wept at his own words.
“None of us are now as we once were,” said Corvus gently. “Horrors you have seen, and so have we all. But what life we ought to live should not change merely because we have suffered. Our people are the keepers of Parthoris, and we have a duty to heal and to preserve. And how can that be done while D’Sparil lives? We will wither and go out you say? That will surely be if we hide in shadows to be discovered and taken. My hatred has shown me that D’Sparil must perish, and I will not abandon it for it carries me to him. What if I perish sooner? Better that I perish in a bitter end on behalf of Parthoris than to die having stood only for preserving myself.”
“You are resolute,” said Varthis, but his face was still lowly. “If I cannot save you from your folly perhaps I can delay your end. I am weak and I cannot give battle. But it was not always so – I was strong and hardy. Come with me and shall give you a thing that may help you on your way.”
“I came expecting to find only enemies to oppose me,” said Corvus. “To find a friend willing to aid me is a boon beyond my asking. I will come with you.”
Varthis nodded and rose up limping. Corvus lent his shoulder to his friend and Varthis took it, leading back to the west and south. Corvus noted with anguish Varthis’ limp, and that he cringed at every sound and started at every touch – injuries, impulses and habits built up by his lengthy discomfiture.
“How is it you have survived here when all others have left or been killed? Have you eluded D’Sparil for this long only with the slats of a barrel? Were you prisoner? If not, why have you not fled?” he asked of Varthis.
“I cannot say why I have been spared,” said Varthis. “Though I am certain it was not done out of kindness. I have been beaten and tormented many times – but always I have been freed at the point of death and allowed to crawl away and slowly heal. Perhaps it amuses the cruelty of the captain of D’Sparil’s forces here to keep me in agony – for he knows I once was the master of this place.”
“And who is this captain?” said Corvus with heat. The thought of this injustice stirred his wrath anew.
Varthis paused as they reached the northern end of the hall. “Such hatred, Corvus? You should be wary of these feelings for they are not of the Sidhe. Only evil can come of them, in the end. D’Sparil will not be bested by hate or fear. Those are his weapons, and they cannot bring him harm no matter who wields them.”
“And yet they have brought me thus far.” Replied Corvus. “Mayhap they will carry me farther on my road to D’Sparil than other weapons.”
“Mayhap,” said Varthis. “But perhaps when you arrive there you will not like what you have become.”
“That I shall see,” he said.
Varthis then looked about carefully, searching to see any that might be watching – and finally, satisfied, he opened a door in the north wall. This door Corvus had not known as a boy, when SilverSpring was his haunt. It was cleverly hidden, and even his Sidhe eyes had not seen it. The door opened into a small chamber of ornate design, still lovely and clean. It was a strange thing amid the battered docks. Here were several small boxes, a few barrels, and a blanket stained with use. Varthis quickly led Corvus in and shut the door.
“This place was once a store for precious goods that came to the city,” he said. “It has so far escaped discovery, and here I come when I have the chance to enter it unseen. And yet,” here he sighed, “it is but a room. It does not feed me, nor protect me from evil. I dare not stay here long for fear I will be missed and sought out. But hither I retreat for the rare moments of peace I have.”
“You have not said yet why you do not leave,” said Corvus. “What lure or dread bond chains you to this fetid city if, as you say, you are spared from death and not held by locks?”
“The lure of life and the bond of fear are my tethers,” he said with bitterness, briefly recalling somewhat of his former pride. “The captain of this place keeps me as if an ill-treated pet. If I am not found when he desires to exercise his sick will upon me, he will send his servants to retrieve me. I was captured by the mortals that were sent to take this place when the city first came into D’Sparil’s hands. My life was sprared because at that time the city was still useful as a port and staging area, and my expertise was misused to the advantage of our enemies. The city sank by degrees into further decay, and I was kept as prisoner in the dungeons.
When I felt the Sidhe cut themselves off from Parthoris I rejoiced, for my captors perished and unlooked for it seemed my captivity would end. But within moments my guards were replaced by servants more fell than all before.
For months now I have endured the captain of this place – a foul creature of the undead. He names himself Draxus; he is cruel and malicious. He released me from my prison and I tried to flee, but he sent to bring me back and beat me for leaving. If I leave again he will perhaps slay me. I am in a prison again, but a prison whose only bar is my own cowardice. I am too weak to flee, and my lameness will not allow me to outpace Draxus’ creatures. So I stay, hating the life I lead but loving it too much to take the only escape left me – death.” Varthis ended, sinking onto his blanket.
Corvus was stirred to sorrow, but found no words of comfort. His hate found voice where his pity did not. “This I swear to you, Varthis,” he said, “that this day will not pass but Draxus will lie at your feet and either beg your forgiveness or depart to the Outside.”
Varthis looked at Corvus, also with pity in his eyes. “I do not desire such vengeance as you seek, Corvus of the Sidhe. I am not a strong or brave man any longer, but I retain my wisdom. Your goal is noble, and perhaps even worthy of the Sidhe. But your heart is not right, and I fear this reckless anger of yours will lead you to an evil end. Beware, and heed my words.”
“I will. But I also retain wisdom. And that wisdom tells me to press on. You said you had a thing that would aid me? What is it?”
Varthis paused for a moment, as if considering, and then crawled to a small box in the corner. He motioned for Corvus to come closer. Corvus obeyed, and watched as the quartermaster opened the dark wooden lid. The inside was cushioned with red velvet, and in the velvet nestled two large gauntlets. They were of bright silver, untarnished, studded with steel and graven with many runes.
“These are the Gauntlets of the Necromancer,” said Varthis. “They were forged by Tyketto and draw great power from the ether. They will not aid you unless you draw close to your foes, but then they are more potent than other weapons. They are not to be used carelessly, or against great numbers. But if your enemies are few and close, they are deadly.”
“I thank you,” said Corvus. He took the gauntlets and fit them on his hands. They seemed to hum with anticipation and he felt the power of the ether in them.
“Also I can give you news,” said Varthis. “Past the storage rooms to the south in the round chamber are two halls, one open and one secret. The open hall is empty. The secret hall lies past a concealed door in the west wall. Follow this and you will come to a ledge along the east wall of the docking area where my office once was. The ledge leads to the north and east, to concealed alcoves where goods were once held. Perhaps there you will find other things that can help you.”
“The portcullis leading to the dungeons. Have you the key? It is locked and I cannot pass.”
“The key is held by Draxus,” said Varthis. “He keeps it on his person and will only open it upon the orders of his masters.”
“And where is Draxus, this captain that torments you?” asked Corvus.
“He has his dwelling in a sheltered dock in the haven. To reach it you must open the door to the portal. This can be found by going south from here to the open, empty hall. There you will find a switch. Press it and the door to the portal will open in the north wall of the round chamber. But I beg you to not pursue Draxus. He is deadly.”
“Pursue him I must, if he has the key. He will yield it up to me – either free or forced.”
“Good fortune to you, young Corvus,” said Varthis. “Lonely and without reward is the path you have chosen. I hope you will not come to grief upon it.”
“And what of you?” asked Corvus. “You will not fight, and no blame lies on you – but nothing stands now between you and freedom. Will you not go from here and find what peace you still can?”
Varthis sat in thought and shook his head. “And where would I go, Corvus? Our people are fallen and few are the places of safety. I have not the strength for long searching. Here I will remain, for at least I know I will not perish, though I buy life in exchange for pain.”
“Stay then,” said Corvus kindly. “At the least I will give you rest for a time from your tortures. Perhaps if hope does not fail us you may yet see Parthoris redeemed.”
“I share in that hope with you, my friend. Go. May the stars shine upon you, and your path lead you to the rest of Elvenhome.”
“I fear,” replied Corvus, “that no light of star, sun, or moon will shine where I go.”
With that he left Varthis, resting in his chamber. Corvus was grieved at the parting. Varthis was wretched and held no true hope any longer. But Corvus could not both wait on him and fulfill his spiteful geas.
END OF PART TWO
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