Chapter 1 part 4

The halfelf checked his fine clothes for damage. His black pants and highly shined, knee-high boots contrasted handsomely with his bright red waist-length robe. The blue sash and his long white hair made him--especially in his own opinion--quite handsome.

That would teach him, thought Armegon as he walked past the toad that had once been human. How dare they try to kidnap him? Though somewhat perplexed as to how it had been done, being teleported into a room was no more than a minor nuisance to one such as he.

Seeing no door, he simply used a passwall spell. A trifle to one of his caliber, but just aggravating enough to bring his wrath down upon the first guard with whom he came in contact.

Now that guard would have plenty of time to think about his lack of precautions and insolence. That is, assuming a toad can think of something other than eating flies. A good point. He would have to investigate that someday.

There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind. It was more than just the insult and inconvenience of being abducted. There was an unsettling feeling that accompanied the knowledge that someone had actually had the power to overcome his protective wards and forcefully drawn him to . . . wherever it was he now found himself. Until that moment, he would have sworn that no one in the world could have done that. He was a master sorcerer, and quite probably the most powerful one in the world. Even further, he fancied himself the most powerful sorcerer of all time. Well, someone had to be, didn't they? He certainly could not think of a better candidate than himself for that honor.

Of course being the most powerful sorcerer did not necessarily make him the most powerful archmage. Other users of magic from other disciplines might wield the same level of power or even more, but so far he had only met one. That was Ultrecht, and if truth be known, Ultrecht actually controlled more power than Armegon. But being an elementalist, it took longer for Ultrecth to bring his power to bear. Sorcery was much faster.

Although he would never speak of it openly or even attempt it—especially against a friend—Armegon had often wondered who would come out on top between himself and Ultrecht. Ultrecht could overpower him in the long run, but could Armegon could overpower Ultrecht in the early moments of a battle? It would all come down to whose defenses were better.

There was nothing unusual about Armegon’s origins. He had been born to an elven mother and human father who was a merchant in the trade of wines and ales. He had been schooled as a child and then briefly apprenticed to a wizard named Daniel. Daniel had been competent, but otherwise unremarkable. His only noteworthy accomplishment had been in spotting Armegon’s potential for a talent with sorcery. At least that is what Daniel had called it. In truth, the apprentice had had more than his share of mishaps in his early trainings, and those mishaps often produced a fair amount of destruction. In hindsight, Armegon wondered if Daniel had not unloaded him as an apprentice to a sorcerer in an attempt to get rid of him.

His next master was Nepek the Blue. Nepek was a fair master who was kind and encouraging. He taught Armegon the basic concepts of magic that were common to all the disciplines and the specific precipts that were imperative to sorcery. Armegon always remembered those years fondly.

His journeymanship was a series of profitable adventures and harmless mischief. In essence he lived a charmed life. Almost everything he did turned out for the best. In time he came to expect the best from everyone and everything. It was not nievity, but a choice. There were plenty of other people who would expect and prepare for the worst.

Armegon had reached his master’s level on his first attempt. He settled down in the subtropical climate of Fernland to continue his studies and research. In a few years, he had gained a reputation as a mage of quality and eventually attained the status of archmage, an elite member of the magic using society.

It was at that point that he met Avery. The ranger was somewhat aloof at first, and this did not sit well with Armegon who expected immediate respect. As both were halfelves, the sorcerer and ranger found that their common hereditary cultre was a medium through which an amicable working relationship could be formed. Eventually, that relationship evolved into friendship.

Not long afterward, he gained another friend in the elementalist, Ultrecht. This friend shared a passion for magic and it was from Ultrecht that Armegon had taken the potion of life which made him immortal. They did not know at that time that the potion was unpredictable and would have strange side affects on the user.

Centries followed and Armegon’s holdings grew. He accumulated wealth with little effort. His research and studies were not quite so effortless, but when done in cooperation with Ultrecht and Avery, he was successful on a grand scale.

He had had numerous hirelings over the ages, some better than others, but it wasn’t until Keeneye and Seymore came into his employ, that he had servents he actually felt competent enough to delegate some of his holdings to their care and administration.

Rarely did problems require his personal attention anymore, but the problem with the poisoned water was one of them. And that was when he had been abducted. That in itself was puzzling because his personal wards should have prevented such a thing from happening. He fully planned to investigate that at the earliest opportunity.

Armegon had not walked a hundred steps when he heard the sound of running coming from around the corner ahead of him. He reached into his component pouch and grasped a dose of rock sulfur. If the approaching voices were reinforcements for his guard, they would get a warm reception. A fireball spell in a narrow corridor would do horrific things to a living body.

As the guards came barreling around the corner, Armegon saw that the rag tag mob were running out of terror instead of anger. In fact they were running in a blind panic. It was also quite apparent that they were not interested in him in the least. His curiosity peaked. Armegon stepped to one side and allowed the guards to pass.

As the guards ran down the hall and around a far corner, Armegon saw a cloud of reddish black vapor drift around the corner followed by a tall dark haired human wearing a long black robe decorated with the runes and symbols of his craft. This was a very unhappy Ultrecht.

Seeing Armegon standing in the path of his cloud, Ultrecht dismissed the spell and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his robes. "There must be some mistake," Ultrecht began with false humor and forced calm as Armegon approached. "They seem to be under the assumption that I am an inmate."

Armegon was not in a mood to be patronized. "Inmate?!" he exclaimed with genuine anger. His face matched the color of his crimson tunic. "Those idiots are trying to capture us." His ire reflected his irritation and his concern that someone had been powerful enough to abduct not only him, but Ultrecht as well.

"Surely you jest," Ultrecht said jokingly as he tried to calm the other mage. Armegon's temper was one of his worst qualities. An angry sorcerer was a disaster in the making. The power of their magic is tied to their emotional state.

Ultrecht considered something else. He and Armegon had been hundreds of leagues away from each other just before they had found themselves in their new surroundings. Apparently an attempt had been made to capture two of the most powerful archmages in the world. What puzzled him was that anyone who would have the gall and resources to make such an attempt would certainly have done a better job of it. “I wonder who is behind this nonsense,” Ultrecht began.

“Oh, let’s do find out,” Armegon cut in with a deceptively pleasant smile. There was no doubt that his gratitude would likely involve a fair amount of pain on the part of someone.

A noise down the hall interrupted the men's conversation. They saw three men, and a woman approaching. Ultrecht waved to the familiar newcomers. "Well," he started, "it would seem that whoever is behind this mess did a little homework." Turning to the woman, he added, "My dear Marlena, you're soaking wet."

"You noticed?," the dark haired woman said irritably as she unconsciously brushed at her light blue gown. The once beautiful garment was now soaked and plastered against her body. There were several dark marks, evidence that she had recently been someplace none too clean. "I was teleported into a room full of water."

There were some words of greeting passed between the members of both groups. Marlena still fumed about her uncomfortable appearance, but she did not let it get the better of her. None of those around her, with the possible exception of the giant strong man named Samson paid her appearance much mind. They were all old comrades and colleagues that she had worked with often in the past.

The woman wrung the hem of her gown free of water while the mighty Samson stood by, ready to aid her if she so needed it. The powerful elementalist, Ultrecht and the halfelven sorcerer, Armegon were talking with the others, two monks, Tyson and Norwind.

Tyson was a retired grandmaster monk who had left the Brotherhood of the Dragon after some unknown falling out and taken up the studies of magic. The circumstances were mysterious and secretive, and though they had often wondered about it, Tyson had long made it plain that it was not a subject for discussion.

Tyson had turned to the study of magic at an age that many would have considered far too late to make a career of, however some of the disciplines he had mastered at the monastery had enabled him to learn and progress very fast. As a result, Tyson had recently been awarded the mantle of master wizard, though he was very old by human standards. Even so, he appeared young for a human in his early eighties. This was due to an enchantment that Ultrecht had stumbled upon in some of his earlier adventures. Tyson's brown hair and black eyes reflected the mysterious personality within, a personality that in recent years had become erratic in his companions' opinion.

Whatever his past and his motives, the unlikely mix of magic and the unmatched discipline and concentration he learned as a monk, made Tyson a very deadly opponent to those who crossed him.

Ultrecht, with his hair slicked back and also a human, was also very old. His true age was a secret he kept to himself, but he would only publicly admit to being in his late nineties and yet didn't seem a day over thirty. He stood taller than all the others, but was thin and none too strong.

Ultrecht's life had been spent pouring over books, scrolls and other arcane devices. He had lived many times the length of most men. That was due in part to an elixir he had discovered some time ago that restored health, youth and vigor. Ultrecht guarded the secret jealously to keep it out of the wrong hands, but he was generous with its effects. Marlena had also benefited from the youth drug, though she playfully dared anyone to reveal her true age or comment on it. At eighty-five, she still had the figure of a teenager. This had caused some rude awakenings to some of the townsmen who had tried to force their desires upon her.

Marlena had once been a druid of the highest order. She had retired after a great battle in which she had been injured. Now she happily tended to her own business interests which included animal husbandry. On occasion, she helped Armegon and Ultrecht or some of her other friends as she had been doing when she was abducted. She was a highly respected woman who was well known by the nobility.

The other monk was talking with Ultrecht while Armegn and Tyson listened. Norwind, was one of the first elves to be admitted to the Union of Brotherhoods, the organization of monks who devoted their lives to a particular set of philosophies. With Tyson's recommendation, he had been accepted into the brotherhood of the Order of Stars, a monastery specializing in the studies of the heavens.

He was the very first elf to rise to the rank of Grandmaster. It had been inevitable. The elf’s long lifespan ensured that eventually he would be the eldest member of the sect. This had been the basis of some controversy within the brotherhood itself, but all attempts to defeat him in legal combat or debate only served to prove his skills were more than just a rumor.

Tyson and Norwind had been very close friends at one time. Over the years, that followed Tyson’s departure from the brotherhood, they had drifted apart somewhat, but they still worked together often. Recently Norwind had begun to consider his own retirement even though he was a mere two hundred and thirty five years old, barely out of the cradle by his people's standards.

The other companion was Samson Okmar, a man about the size and proportions of a bear. His head was shaved and he wore a tight fitting suit of mail in which the links were so small that they could hardly be seen. He had a pack on his back that appeared as if it could hold quite a bit of weight, yet he showed no signs of effort in carrying it.

At his side, Samson wore a sheathed sword. The scabbard was encrusted with jewels and made of fine but strong material. The sword itself had a hand guard wrought in the form of a set of balancing scales with runes carved into its hilt. This was the sword called Libra. Libra was the sword of balance, the physical form of neutrality. No one knew the sword’s origins or its history. Ultrecht had once attempted to divine some of its past, but had had only marginal success. His only comment was that the sword was an incarnation of the force of nature and he warned others not to oppose it. It was an enchanted weapon and Samson’s great size, strength, and stamina was partly a result of that enchantment.

They were all telling of their arrivals when a shout resounded from the hallway followed by a clash of weapons and an abruptly ended scream. They quickly made ready for battle and were about to investigate when a guard flew out of the corridor and hit a wall so hard that he splattered.

Tyson grimaced and wiped a smear of blood off of his face. “Looks like someone invited the hammer boys too.”

As they came out of the passage, Scarlet was berating Seymore about using too much force. "Well what did you expect!” Seymore growled. “He cut my hand and dumped my wine.”

The two warriors stopped in their tracks when they saw the others standing there. “Oh. Uh, hi guys.” Seymore stammered.

The group stared at the two of them for a moment then Marlena started to laugh. Seymore had a twenty gallon cask of wine over one shoulder and they each had mugs. They smelled awful and were obviously quite drunk.

“I suppose there’s some logical explanation for this?” Armegon asked, trying to keep a straight face. In spite of his simmering anger, the sight of his hirelings gave him a quiet measure of comfort.

“Uh yeah,” Seymore slurred. “You see we, uh that is well," he looked at Scarlet. “You tell ‘em.”

“Well,” the dwarf said a bit unsteadily. “There was this pit outside our cell, and then we found a store room.” The dwarf gave up and shrugged. “We had a bad hangover.”

Ultrecht raised an eyebrow. “Hangover? You two? What happened to your enchantment?”

“Musta wore off.” The big man mumbled as he slurped from his mug.

Armegon shook his head and laid a hand on each of them. “I just hate shoddy magic. I know it was cheap, but how many times have I told you, you get what you pay for? Cheap magic is shoddy magic.” Seymore shifted and he snapped, “hold still.”

The half-elf worked his magic, and with a small pop, both of them were well and sober.

“Ooh, that’s better.” The dwarf sighed.

“My turn,” said Ultrecht. He cast a simple incantation and a colorful whirlwind of lights sparkled around the two rather smelly warriors. The lights vanished and left them both clean and smelling of fresh bread.

With barely a pause, Ultrecht gestured again and the lights reappeared and settled on Marlena leaving a clean and dry garment in their wake.

Seymore looked delighted. “Oh yeah! I’ll drink to that,” he exclaimed as he took a big swig from his mug. He choked and spluttered. “Hey! It’s grape juice!”

As Scarlet judiciously dumped his mug, Armegon grinned at Ultrecht and said, “Nicely done.”

"Now that that has been taken care of," Ultrecht said stroking his goatee, "what say we get to the bottom of this mess?"

"Here, here," Marlena responded appreciatively.

"Which way is out?" asked Samson standing possessively at Marlena's side. It was quite evident to everyone that the big man felt very strongly about the woman.

"Well," said Ultrecht gazing down a passageway, "we all came down each of these passages. I don't suppose any of you saw any stairs going up."

"We may not be underground," Norwind observed.

"We are," Scarlet said reassuring, "I can tell."

"Can you tell how to get out?"

Scarlet grunted while kneeling down to the floor. "Too bad Avery isn't here, he could probably tell us which direction to take. Even Keeneye could help."

"I'm surprised they didn't show up," Marlena said as she glanced around, half expecting the ranger and the archer to show up.

"They may have," Ultrecht said thoughtfully. "If they did, they may have found a way out before we wandered together."

Scarlet stood. "The passageway goes up in that direction, and there is evidence of water drainage coming from that way."

"If there are no objections then," Tyson said, "I suggest we follow our dwarven companion's wisdom and take this route." He turned toward Scarlet. "After you."

Scarlet nodded and started up the passage. As the rest of his companions fell in behind the dwarf, he heard someone mutter something about getting to the bottom of this kidnapping business.

They traveled only half an hour and had not really gone very far when even the unskilled began to notice the slight inclination of the corridor. The obvious rise became known to all when the party of companions encountered a stairway leading upward.

Years of experience in working together came back them unbidden. Without a spoken word, Norwind moved up front alongside the dwarf and began helping in checking the stairway. Dungeons were noted for for traps and murder holes. As a monk, his powers of concentration were trained to notice even the smallest thing out of place. That was a priceless skill when hunting for tripwires, pressure plates and other triggering devices.

The stairway was long, and Scarlet was sure that he or the elven monk would find at least one trap as they ascended. Surprisingly, there were none and the small company quickly advanced to the top of the stairs to find themselves in another corridor.

This corridor was short and wide with an open set of double doors at the end. Through the doors, Norwind and Scarlet saw a large chamber. They heard the voices of several people within. With the intention of getting some answers about the unusual abductions, the small band of escaped prisoners burst into the room.