SWNOVELS The Magistrate - Chapter 3
T hey were lost.
There was only one true route through the passes of the Imperial Range; all the rest were an endless maze of treacherous trails that led to dead ends or to death.
Captain Dorian Petronus had been stationed at the entrance to this very pass over eight years ago, but he had never ventured into it.
Naleth Orie had come through as a child, and as such, could remember no specific details about the locale.
Even Spiretta, who always seemed to be a veritable font of secret information, was at a loss.
So it had been left to Magistrate Quintus Magellis Baelarico to decide which paths to take. Evidently, he had not chosen as wisely as he had surmised.
“I do apologize,” said Quintus weakly, “My faculties must be failing me.”
“You’ve said that before, sir,” reminded Dorian, “but you have always pulled us through.”
“No,” countered Quintus, “we have survived this long only because we have worked together. No one of us could stand alone in the places we have been nor against the things we have seen. And when I am gone, I expect all of you to remember that and to learn from it. My time grows short, while you all have many years ahead of you. I would hope that you will accomplish great things once you no longer have me and this fools errand to hold you back, for you are the last children of Diathilos and your greatness should not go undiscovered.”
The group had dwindled down to eight: Quintus and Dorian, Spiretta and her silent partner, two of Dorian’s soldiers, Naleth and Jiya. Falanx made nine. A few had been lost to violence along the way, while the rest had accompanied Ambassador Galaca safely into Gylanth.
As the magistrate concluded his monologue, there was silence. The old man was speaking of his mortality far too often of late. It was a thought that none of them liked to dwell upon, for he was a great inspiration and quite possibly the only force in the world whose faith and charisma could convince them to stay in the ruins of the fallen empire and search for elusive answers that may never be found. He appealed to their pride, their dignity and their sense of duty. He made them feel important, and often higher than their station. Together, they formed what some might call a family but what felt more like an empire of eight, each of them officers of the highest standing and deserving the utmost respect. This was his gift to them, for having to endure such tragedies and heartbreaks, for living their lives for him and for putting their futures on hold so that the past could live again and be remembered.
For now though, they had little direction or recourse. The markers they had left along the trail only went back so far. It was obvious that strange creatures lived in the mountains now, for it was no longer patrolled by Imperial Guardsmen. The party had seen and heard eerie things, even during the day. And their supplies were running low.
But they knew the risks before they entered, taking every possible precaution: extra food and water, climbing gear, indelible inks to be used for marking. The rumor was that only those of noble blood could find their way through the passes, and as such, one such person – always an important D’losian official – would accompany any caravan that wished to cross the Imperial Range.
Of course, not everyone believed this rumor. Some said it was fabricated simply to protect an important trade route – the only trade route – between Tar Kezra and Thir Adha. Others believed it was made up by greedy officials who wished to elevate themselves to greater levels of import and wealth, for these officials were always paid handsomely for their accompaniment.
But even so, it was no easy time to navigate the twisting and turning paths the group was presented with. Avalanche was the greatest hazard they had to deal with, but that was quickly becoming secondary to their worries of having sufficient sustenance to survive.
As Dorian recalled, it took about a week to travel all the way through the pass, assuming you knew the most direct route. Already, they had been traveling through these mountains for two.
“We should move on,” insisted Dorian.
“No,” objected Quintus, “We should camp here and use what remaining daylight we have to formulate a solid plan of travel that we can execute upon the morrow.”
“Agreed,” said the secretive Spiretta.
Preparations were made as Naleth helped Quintus down from his horse. “All right then, boy. Enough with me. See to that new wife of yours.”
Naleth smiled, both at Quintus’ self-effacement and at the thought of his blushing bride. Though they had only been married for six months – the magistrate had performed the ceremony – it felt as if they had known each other for a lifetime. Naleth often found it strange how seemingly opposite he and Jiya were, and yet how perfect that made their bond. Indeed, she had wanted to be with Naleth for the rest of her life, but had no interest in performing any ritual that supposedly made them inseparable. Naleth tried several ways of convincing her – traditionalist that he was – that it was merely an affirmation of their love and a celebration of their union that could be shared with their friends. She had made the wise observation that he may also be seeking the approval of his mentor Quintus by having him officiate over their nuptuals.
With that, he couldn’t argue.
The tents were set up and the next meal prepared, now rationed out carefully by Jiya. She was quite creative with the victuals, making even the most simple foods into something extravagant by trying different combinations and adding a spice here and there. The party was most appreciative.
Meanwhile, Dorian and Spiretta – the most tactically experienced of the group – discussed their options.
“We could chance a climb to one of the highest peaks, get our bearings,” offered Dorian.
“But the path would still be invisible to us,” said Spiretta, “These rocks blend together well.”
“Well, we have already tried to follow tracks left behind by the last caravans to come this way…”
“I am not surprised,” replied Spiretta, “It has been nearly a decade since these trails were used by D’losians. Any signs of their passing would be undetectable. Even I have had trouble discerning their presence.”
“Could there be a cave? Some sort of secret pathway, hidden behind a boulder or overgrowth?”
Spiretta pondered this, nodding in approval. “It would have to be large enough to accommodate several wagons. But even if it were true, where do we start? We cannot return to the western entrance and examine every cliffside.”
“No, we shall press forward,” explained Dorian. “From now on we have everyone in the party looking for large openings, concealed entrances, suspicious rock formations—“
Dorian stopped in mid-sentence. Spiretta could see the idea forming in his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The dog!” he exclaimed. “We can use the dog to sniff out the musty air that would no doubt be trapped in an enclosed cave.”
“The beast is untrained, wild,” she informed the captain.
“There must be some way to make it understand. You are good with animals. Can you not make it understand?”
Spiretta sighed. “Given time, several weeks preferably.”
“We don’t have that much time,” he reminded her.
“Very well,” she assented, “I will try.”
“One thing about getting old,” imparted Quintus, “is that you get the chills more frequently.”
“No,” said Jiya, “I feel it too.”
Indeed, everyone gathered at the camp felt the unnatural cold in the air. It was puzzling, almost disturbing, for they were well into the spring months and their elevation could not be more than a few hundred feet. The sun had not even set yet, and still the coolness permeated their clothes and blankets. It should have been getting warmer, not colder.
“Something about these mountains…I don’t know. They are imposing and there have been many haunting stories about them.”
“Now Naleth,” admonished Quintus, “what did I teach you about rumors and speculation? Trust in the facts – and only the facts – and you will not be led astray.”
Naleth nodded. “I am sorry, sir. It must be in my head.”
Jiya cuddled up to her new husband, sharing the warmth, as Quintus delved into his journal. On the perimeter, Dorian’s soldiers kept a vigilant eye on the northern and southern paths.
As Captain Petronus saw to the gear and weapons, Spiretta came bounding back into camp. She had been gone for quite some time, supposedly trying to train Falanx in the art of hide-and-seek.
“Dorian, this way,” she beckoned. “The dog has found something.”
Captain Petronus was shocked. “I knew you were good, but not that good!”
She led him up the northern path until it took a sharp right and turned east. There, at the leftmost corner, sat the dog, staring at the rock face, alternately growling and whimpering.
“I see nothing,” commented Dorian.
“I believe we were not meant to.” Spiretta slowly walked forward into the rock face – and disappeared.
“An illusion,” sneered Captain Petronus.
“Yes,” affirmed Spiretta, walking back out into the fading light, “but placed here by whom?”
Dorian suddenly noticed that the world had gone eerily silent; no birds sang and no insects chittered. And then there was the cold – it had become more intense.
“I sent my comrade ahead to scout the tunnel behind this veil,” informed Spiretta. “He has been gone for far too long. The dog will not enter.”
Dorian stuck his head through the illusionary wall to examine the entrance. Light penetrated far enough in to see that is was the mouth of a large cave, easily large enough for a wagon or carriage to ride through comfortably. Beyond the entrance, however, the tunnel descended into darkness.
“I know not if this passageway leads to the other side of the mountains or if it is the lair of some mystical beast,” said Spiretta, “But I will not leave my companion if he is in danger.”
Captain Petronus pulled his head back. “I would agree that we need to explore this place together, one way or another, but I am concerned for the safety of the others. We cannot leave them behind, and yet, I would not wish to force them all into a potentially hazardous underground cave system.”
Spiretta waited as Dorian mulled the situation.
“We will let them decide,” he said at length.
Returning to camp made Falanx very happy. He jumped onto Naleth’s lap and nearly bowled him over.
“Magistrate, we have a decision to make,” announced Dorian with Spiretta in tow.
Quintus held up a finger, staving off Dorian’s comments as he finished scribbling a few lines of text. Then, Captain Petronus explained the situation to the party, who found it all at once intriguing and frightening. And though Naleth insisted that the magistrate get a good night’s rest before continuing on, Quintus’ had already made up his mind.
“I don’t see that we have a choice, my dear captain. We have not been able to find our way back or forward and our supplies grow short. And though I am getting old and feeble, I would never allow any one of you, my loyal D’losians, to suffer alone and in darkness. Furthermore, if there is a threat to our continued travels then we must confront it head on, as we should all of life’s trials.”
Spiretta’s eyes misted up slightly, though not so much that anyone could see. “Thank you, magistrate.”
“All right everyone,” urged Dorian, “Let us make ready to move out. Prepare torches and lanterns. We will use ropes to keep from falling in pits or shafts, so stay close and be alert.”
Jiya rose and gave Naleth a kiss. “Go on. I’ll clean up the food and such.” Naleth smiled and went to work. “Spiretta,” called Jiya, “Was Falanx helpful? Were you able to teach him anything?”
Spiretta got a bemused look on her face. “He is a stubborn mongrel of an animal,” she said, “but he may have just saved our lives.”
Jiya cheerfully turned to the mutt. “Well, if that doesn’t deserve an ale, I don’t know what does.”
Falanx gave a happy bark.
The darkness was their greatest enemy. There were no sharp drops, pitfalls or other hazards in the cavernous passage. Falanx had only come along after everyone else had entered, not wanting to be left behind. Now he trotted along warily, staying close to Jiya. Their route took several twists and turns, just like the paths they had followed for the last few days, but they seemed to be heading generally eastward. Every so often they would see an abandoned camp or wooden planks, sure signs that some sort of major caravan had passed through this way. But the cold kept them on edge; it did not let up and there was no breeze.
“How much longer?” asked Jiya quietly.
“I’m not sure,” answered her husband. “But I think Spiretta is moving slowly so as not to miss any clues that might lead to her man.”
Jiya gave Naleth a squeeze on the arm; she didn’t want to lose him.
One of the soldiers at the front of the line stopped the party; he had seen something. He motioned for Dorian, guarding the rear, to come forward.
“What have you found?” he whispered.
The soldier pointed to the ground with his spear. There, lying in an unkempt pile, were bones – human bones.
Spiretta gave the pile a look. “Too old and dry. It cant be him.”
“No,” said Dorian, “but I think its pretty safe to assume that we arent alone in here. This has become a lair.”
“But for what?” questioned Spiretta. “I have seen no major tracks, nor droppings, nor spores. It’s as if this place is being avoided by animal life.” She looked at the dog; he was sitting with his head low, constantly scanning and sniffing the shadows around them. “Cover the bones and lets move on,” ordered Spiretta, taking the lead again.
After Dorian had hidden the human remains he waved the group forward and returned to his position.
It had been an hour, yet it seemed like more. The only light was the flickering of torches and lanterns, and it caused their eyes to play tricks. Only Spiretta seemed unperturbed by their oppressive surroundings.
“Captain,” uttered Quintus, “I grow weary. I am afraid I cannot continue without rest.”
Dorian sighed. “Very well. We will stop here and sleep in pairs. Everyone else will keep watch. Two hours, magistrate. I believe that is all we can spare for you.”
“You are a prince, captain.”
The magistrate lay down, as the rest gathered round him and Jiya, who also decided that a nap would do her good. Falanx nuzzled up next to her, but never shut his eyes.
Scarcely ten minutes had gone by when Naleth spotted the pair of orange glowing eyes that hovered above the impromptu campsite. At first, he believed it to be a hallucination, his lack of sleep catching up with him. But then the second pair appeared. Naleth immediately tapped Dorian on the arm and pointed upwards, saying nothing as he did so.
Dorian saw the eyes and signaled to his men just as a third pair appeared. Each took up a defensive position, hefted their shields and spears. Captain Petronus stood over the magistrate, while Naleth stood over his wife. Falanx finally noticed what all the silent commotion was about and began to whine and growl again.
That woke Jiya. “What’s wrong, boy?”
Naleth turned to quiet her, but it seemed she had already caught their attention. The three pairs of eyes separated each taking a different position around the cavern, forming a triangle and staying high enough to be out of arms reach.
Dorian held up one of the torches, trying to get a better view of the things, but they avoided its illumination.
“Show yourselves,” he said.
The voice that spoke was breathy and had a chill to it. Its words seemed to emanate from within Dorian’s chest and echo in his head. It was an eerie sensation and he got the disturbing impression that they were all speaking as one.
“It has been ages. The travelers have stopped coming. We feel the life within you. We need that life.”
“Keep your distance!” ordered Dorian harshly. Quintus began to stir and Jiya tried to restrain Falanx, though at this point she wasn’t sure if he wanted to attack or run.
“One was not enough,” the voice wheezed, “We need more.”
Dorian lunged with the torch as they attempted to come nearer, and Naleth got a glimpse of a partial torso. But the thing was dark and insubstantial, seemingly a living shadow. The figures stopped, though, hovering just at the edge of the torches glow.
“Give us the old one. His time is short.”
“No!” yelled Naleth, standing in front of the magistrate.
“Then we will take him!”
One of the shadows flew forward, unnaturally fast, but Captain Petronus was there to knock Quintus to the ground. One of the judge’s hands flailed up and was barely brushed by the dark specter. Quintus gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and for a moment, his vision and hearing failed him.
“Barely a taste,” hissed the voice, “He will not satisfy us.”
“Go away!” implored Naleth. “Leave him be! We only want to be through here!”
“Not true,” whispered the specter, “The old one wishes more than anything to restore his empire. Or at least find the cause and perhaps reverse it.”
“Yes, that is true,” croaked the magistrate. “What do you know of it?”
“Don’t listen to him, Quintus!” begged Dorian. “He’ll do anything to distract you, gain your trust. He wants to kill you, nothing more.”
Ignoring Captain Petronus, the shadow continued. “I know that you see one answer to a riddle that has many. You seek one cataclysmic event that started a chain reaction of disasters. Only something so grand could raze the mighty Diathilos.”
“Do not mock what has befallen our people, fiend. Tell us what happened!” Quintus was lively, awakened by the sudden windfall of information.
“I mock only a fool and his followers who shall pass from this life before ever knowing the truth. And there are many truths that you would not wish to hear.”
“I do,” said Quintus, “I wish to hear them all. For better or for worse, tell me. Give me peace.”
“Give us life, and you shall know all.”
“Quintus, for the gods’ sake, he’s lying!” yelled Dorian.
“Be that as it may,” began the magistrate, “I cannot give up any of my companions. If I must die unfulfilled, then so be it.”
The orange eyes suddenly grew bright with rage and hunger. It appeared as if the specters were about to spring and attack. The soldiers all held their shields and spears high, ready to use them, though doubting their effectiveness against these creatures from the underworld.
“Stop!” came the voice of Spiretta, who had been strangely absent – or at least hidden – during this whole encounter. “I offer myself.”
The shadows regarded her. “Young and strong. Her energy will sustain us.”
“Spiretta don’t!” cried Quintus, “I couldn’t live with myself if you—“
“And you wouldn’t live well with yourself if you passed up this opportunity,” retorted Spiretta.
“But you will die,” said Quintus.
“They have already killed my friend,” she reminded the magistrate, “I will simply go to join him.”
Jiya cringed at the words being spoken and the situation that was being played out. She shed tears that she cried into Falanx’s fur.
Naleth was speechless. This woman that he’d had a crush on was too incredible for words. Was she so utterly brave and loyal that she would give up her life just so Quintus could acquire the information he was seeking? Did she have a plan to defeat these shadows? Or was she just crazy? Whoever she was, she would take her secrets with her to the grave.
“Are we agreed?” Spiretta asked the shadows.
Without answering, they turned to Quintus and began to impart the words he had been longing to hear.
“Corrupt and complacent, decadent and depraved. These are the things that Diathilos was, and we know, for we were a part of her. But all of the greed and debauchery in the world could not have caused that which transpired. The chaos was great and immeasurable, and nothing could have forestalled its onset.”
“You were there? You caused this?” pressed Quintus angrily.
The specters hissed. “No, fool! If you would but listen! We served the empire as you did, but we also took from her, more than our share. Yet our misdeeds were paltry compared to those of higher station. Still, even their gross malfeasance was insufficient as a catalyst. Look at the tragedies that came: the great wyrm’s conquest of Tar Kezra; the oculox infestation of Xin Tara; the overrunning of your capital by mere bandits!”
“Yes, we know all of that,” growled Dorian. “Do not toy with us.”
“You know nothing, soldier!” howled the shadows. “Such knowledge is merely the tip of the spear. For do you know of the strange mists that crawl across the lands? The elemental storms that rage throughout the countryside? The reports of otherworldly creatures with dark powers lurking about the populace? The plagues that killed thousands? What do you think it would take to coordinate such a calamity?”
“The will of the gods,” put in Naleth.
“Oh, the gods were angry, to be sure. Many of the faithful – such as yourself, old one – were spared. But do you really believe that Prak and his followers have grown so strong?”
Quintus spat at the mention of Amitar’s arch-enemy Prak, the dark god that was the antithesis of all that was good and pure. “His lure is strong,” admitted Quintus, “but our emperor would not have handed over the entire empire. Why would he do such a thing? What could that evil and foul deity offer the emperor that he did not already have?”
The specters smiled wickedly in unison. “I see your mind already drifts to the possibility of your leader being to blame. That is good. You should be willing to look towards the fallibility of those who are perceived as perfect. For where is your leader now? Where are his councilors? No bodies were ever found, nor any sign of their disappearance has been discovered.”
“Magistrate, I do not like this,” warned Dorian. “Let us away from here before they fill your head with more misleading falsehoods.”
“We speak the truth!” roared the specters. “As followers of Amitar, you should recognize its painful bite!”
The shadows began to float over towards Spiretta, who stood steadfast. “And now, we have kept out bargain. It is our time to be satisfied.”
“No!” yelled Dorian. “Spiretta, move back! They have told us nothing!”
The glowing of their orange eyes flared into bright flames, as the chill in the room became nearly unbearable. “We did as you asked! You now know what transpired and where to lay the blame! It cannot be undone!”
“Please!” begged Quintus desperately, “Allow us to know what happened to the emperor! Where is he? How can we find him?”
“Seek the twelve and you will know all! And now, young one, give us your life!”
The shadows darted for Spiretta, who amazingly, was able to dodge all three of them. “Magistrate run! Dorian get him and the others out of here!”
Falanx was up and barking at the sudden burst of action, Jiya tugging at him to come along, while she herself was being pulled by Naleth. Dorian put the magistrate’s arm around his shoulder, half carrying the old judge out of the cavern while his two soldiers guarded their retreat. Spiretta found herself on the opposite side of the large chamber, cut off from the party by the three specters. Once the group was out of sight, she hollered towards them, “Keep running! Don’t look back!”
Indeed, they did not. With Captain Petronus’ help, Quintus hobbled as fast as he could, while Falanx led the way down the dark tunnels, having no illusions about intimidating the ghostly shadows behind him. Naleth ran in the middle, alternately keeping an eye on his wife in front and his mentor behind.
Horrible screams of mortal terror and supernatural frenzy intermingled in the corridors behind them. One could only imagine the fate Spiretta was being subjected to. But her cries – and her sacrifice – bade them to continue on, not stopping until they saw pale moonlight emanating from up ahead. They soon discovered the exit that led them once again to the outside world, where the sky was dark and full of stars and the unnatural chill was gone.
They had made it through to the other side of the Imperial range, though the cost had been high. They now numbered only six, and as they caught their breath, each looked to the other, none of them wanting to accept or even mention what had just happened to their comrades.
Looking back, Dorian noticed that this side of the mountain also bore an illusion that completely obscured the entrance from travelers wishing to seek passage through. He placed his two soldiers on guard at that entrance while Naleth and Jiya made camp, both of them trying to hold back tears and emotions, but failing.
Yet for all his exhaustion, Quintus was unable to sleep. The encounter had been disturbing enough, but he had to commit all that he had heard to his journal before it was forgotten.
There was little rest to be had that night, and no words were spoken. At first light, after saying a few words in Spiretta’s honor, Dorian asked, “What now, magistrate?”
His tone was bitter, but Quintus did not seem to notice. “We continue on to Tar Kezra, as planned. Perhaps the great wyrm will be able to shed more light upon—“
“Madness!” erupted Captain Petronus. “After what just occurred, you want to traipse into a dragons lair and have a discussion with him?! What is the likely outcome of that encounter?”
Quintus was taken aback. He had never seen the captain so angry, at least not at his fellow companions.
Dorian continued, “You have learned what you set out to learn. Is that not enough? Do each of us have to sacrifice ourselves to your cause before you are satisfied? What more can you hope to gain from this quest? The specters were most likely lying simply to satisfy their hunger, but they were right about one thing: what’s done is done. Diathilos is not coming back. It can’t be restored. There is nothing left to restore.”
Quintus was silent for a moment, as were the others. He cradled his left hand, for it was still numb from where the specter had touched him. Then, softly, he spoke. “I feel as you do, captain. Though walls and palaces can be rebuilt, new guardsmen recruited and new royalty placed on the throne, neither this nor any other nation or empire could return to what it once was. The nobility and the populace followed the course of their choosing and they have now paid the price for their arrogance. Our dignity can no longer be restored, but there is still something that remains to be done. And it is not something that is of benefit to you or I.” Quintus gestured to Naleth and Jiya, who were holding hands. “We must still discover who perpetrated this grievous crime against society and why. And then, we must record it for posterity’s sake and share it with the world, so that a tragedy of this magnitude never occurs again. For the sake of future generations. For the sake of our descendants.”
Some of Dorian’s anger abated. He knew the old man was right, but his judgement was too clouded right now to see and feel the full truth of Quintus’ words. “Would it not be wiser to avoid places such as Tar Kezra, or to allow a younger group to undertake this quest?”
“Would it be wise for an army to disband just when it has gained new and superior weaponry or when its objective is nearly in sight? I know you are all tired. I am nearing the end of my life and can barely keep up, but no one else can see the grand scope of this quest as we can, for we have lived through these tragedies; we were there when it all happened. We have first-hand experience that cannot be passed on through writing or words. We feel its impact because we were a part of what occurred. It happened to us and it happened to our home. Outsiders could not understand that. And for you and I, Dorian, this is most significant. For once we are gone, our life’s work will be gone as well. There will be no records of our contributions or even of our very existence. The servants of the empire will vanish from history. But I can live and die with that, as long as I am confident that others will carry on our traditions and pass on what they have learned from us.”
There was silence in the camp, and Falanx waited anxiously to see what would be decided there.
“We are with you, sir,” announced Naleth.
“Thank you, boy,” said Quintus warmly. “I know you understand. I have never had a better student.”
The magistrate looked to Dorian, who in turn looked to his two soldiers. “You men are dismissed,” ordered the captain. “I’ve a feeling your presence will make no difference where we are going.”
The two soldiers looked at each other. “If it’s all the same to you, captain,’ said the first, “I’d just as soon come along. I’ve never seen a dragon.”
“Very well, then,” sighed Dorian. “It seems all of our fates are tied to yours, magistrate.”
“So be it,” nodded Quintus. “You may lead on, captain. Take us into the dragon’s lair.”