The Dragons' Legacy by Dan Zangari & Robert Zangari
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Later that evening, as Iltar relaxes in his study within his tower, he hears the galloping of a horse. Roused with excitement, the necromancer rises from his chair and pulls the window’s curtains aside, looking beyond the stone wall surrounding his tower.
The two moons of Kalda, still in their full phases, shine down and illuminate the grounds of Iltar’s estate. A lone man gently gets off his horse, and Iltar’s groomsman takes the horse into the stables. The man, dressed in a dark brown garb briskly treads across the stone pathway from the wall’s gate to the tower’s entrance. Iltar can see him salute, undoubtedly to the guards posted as sentinels. The sound of the tower’s doors opening and closing reach Iltar’s ears and he slowly paces back to his seat.
Moments after relaxing himself against the soft velvet high back chair, a firm knock raps against the door to the study.
“Come in,” Iltar calls.
The door opens, and Cornar steps through the threshold of the doorway. He closes the wooden door and takes the seat in front of Iltar. The table that had held the contents discovered by Cornar is all cleared away, and the inlayed stone surface dully reflects the light of both the magical orbs in the room.
“I apologize for being late,” Cornar says as he leans forward, “Karenna was keeping me busy.”
Iltar gives a chuckle, still leaning back, “Does she suspect something?”
“She always knows when I’m about to embark on an adventure,” Cornar sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I do. Perhaps she can just sense it in the air.”
Cornar also relaxes back in his chair, both men tired from their labors.
“So, how do you plan to find more apprentices?” Cornar breaks the silence.
“I won’t,” Iltar shakes his head. “I have no intention of looking for more young would-be-rebels.”
“What? Ah, I see, a ruse–”
“Cornar, no interjection,” Iltar interrupts his loyal friend. “Let me speak. You just listen.”
Scowling, Cornar sits sullenly in his chair.
“Oh, my friend, don’t be angry. You are the only one I trust with the details of our journey.”
“What are the details, then?” Cornar asks, attempting to be aloof.
“The Dragon’s Isle is the key. While we waited for those foolish youths to kill themselves, I continued my research with the texts you delivered. From what I could deduce from the scrolls and the books, the amulet must be there, or at least part of it. Either the amulet or the ruby. The elvish scroll said there was a protector or a guardian on the island. I don’t know what it is, but there is something there. It was only barely referenced in the scroll, with half the reference missing. The books said that the island was not only the dragon’s burial ground, but also the site of a great battle during the dragon wars: the place where the amulet was first used. And who knows what other artifacts could be there!
“Perhaps we shall find a caretaker, or even a dragon there that will give us a clue. The guardian might in fact be a platinum dragon! Think of it! We’ll be the first men to see a dragon in hundreds of years… beside Amendal.”
Cornar raises his brow then interjects, “Amendal went crazy on that expedition. I doubt he really saw a dragon.”
Iltar chuckles then continues, “Whatever the guardian is, we will extract the amulet’s secrets from it, and how to travel between worlds.
“But anything else we find on Draco Isola will be valuable beyond measure! Cornar, a great treasure awaits us there, greater than anything we’ve discovered. I need your help, my friend. The council’s mission is the best way to conceal this adventure.” Iltar’s eyes alight with a fire of his vision. He eagerly stares at Cornar with more excitement than his friend has seen from him in years.
Cornar sits up straighter in his chair and looks at Iltar with wide eyes. “That’s quite ambitious. Do you think you can keep that hidden from the council?”
“Of course,” Iltar retorts arrogantly, stifled by his friend’s lack of initial enthusiasm. “I have recruited our loyal friends. They don’t know the truth, yet. I garnered their assistance with a false story, needing their aid to find new students of the arts, not just necromancy. And the others going along won’t know what we are doing until we get to our destination, including your men. Once we return no one will be able to do anything about it.”
“The only problem is that nowhere does it state in any of the scrolls we have where the stone to travel between worlds is located. A piece of the amulet appears to be on the dragon’s island, but nothing about the stone.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?” Cornar asks with sincere concern, “That we may find the amulet but without the red dragons it’s worthless, right?”
“Yes that is true. But if the stone is not on the island there should at least be a clue to its whereabouts. These scrolls seem to hint that the amulet and the magic to travel between worlds was not broken apart to be hidden forever; we are being pointed to a secret treasure that wants to be found.”
Cornar stares hard at Iltar. He knew Iltar would embark on this adventure with or without his aid, and the thought of his old friend pursuing this quest alone was not something Cornar could permit.
“I’ll help,” Cornar stoically states, “But I hope you’re right. Otherwise, when we return with no apprentices, and with the crew and the company telling tall tales of dragons! How will you deal with that?”
“When and if that time comes,” Iltar waggles his finger. “Alacor and the others are no match for my power. For now we need to outfit this expedition.”
4
Voyage
Seven days later, on an evening much clearer than his last excursion, Iltar rides through the woodland path toward the city of Soroth. His horse canters at a scene-watchers pace, but for Iltar it gives him time to recount his pre-planned rhetoric for the council. The necromancer is dressed in a dull black tunic, and matching pants. Black leather boots and gloves shield his extremities, his usual attire for travel.
As the city comes into view, Iltar pays no attention to the vista but focuses on pressing forward along the dirt highway.
Waiting near the gates of the city is the familiar face Cornar. The warrior sits comfortably in the saddle atop his brown stallion, and as Iltar approaches, Cornar turns his steed to follow his friend.
“Greetings, Iltar,” Cornar says bringing his horse to a canter to match Iltar.
“Are all the preparations finished, Cor?” Iltar asks, still looking straight ahead.
Sensing his friend’s aloof mood the warrior replies, “Yes, my men are ready. However, we will be short one; my nephew cannot make this trip, but you already know that.
“And our friend Kenard will gladly pilot the ship. It took some convincing, but the owner of the Farling will let us use it, at least for this voyage.”
“Farling will do, I suppose,” Iltar ponders, “But why aren’t we using the White Duchess?”
“Well,” Cornar sighs, “It’s impounded.”
Taken aback, Iltar shakes his head, “What happened?”
“Kenard didn’t say,” Cornar turns to Iltar, “Perhaps he’ll tell you.”
“And what of the crew? Is Kenard bringing his men?”
“Not all of them; some booked passage away to other places when he lost his ship.
“And, of course, our usual band of thieving misfits is joining us.” Cornar’s enthusiasm for this last lot is lacking. Their ringleader had often butted heads with Cornar, especially in prior adventures.
Humored by Cornar’s mention of the thieves, Iltar asks, “Just, Tilthan and Nath, right? I know Sharon is with your nephew.”
“No, they’re bringing along someone new; a man named Nemral. Someone both Tilthan and Nath know from Klath.”
“Can he be trusted?” Iltar stops and amends his statement, “Well, I know the others can’t, but his loyalty can at least be bought, I take it?”
“Good,” Iltar says curtly. “But does this Nemral have those items which would make him truly useful?”
“Yes,” Cornar replies. “Nemral knew Cedath; it sounded like he had bought a pair of lenses and a cloak from him just before his death.”
“Probably Cedath’s things,” Iltar nods his head. “You don’t see many cloaks like that, or lenses for that matter. I can imagine it cost this Nemral quite a bit of coin.
“And our magically adept friends are bringing their apprentices, except for Hagen.”
“This will be almost like old times,” Cornar remarks.
“Yes…” Iltar agrees, trailing off.
The two men continue to ride together in silence until they reach the gates of Iltar’s destination. They bid each other farewell, and Iltar casually guides his horse inside then down the path to the stables.