Simon Hawke - The Seeker

“But I am not an elven king,” protested Sorak. “This sword was given to me by the High Mistress Varanna, and she said nothing of any legacy associated with it. I have no wish to rule or unite anyone. I am not responsible for fanciful stories that grow up around a sword.”

“Nevertheless, you will find yourself affected by those stories. Stories that are repeated often enough become legends, and people set great store by legends. Whether the prophecy is a true one or not, there will be those who will try to make it so. They shall either try to cast you in the role, or else take your sword and usurp it for themselves.

“You could, of course, give up the sword, but then you would risk having it fall into the wrong hands. Nibenay could do much with such a blade. If it wins the allegiance of the elves, I would much rather see it in your hands. Either way, you are in danger so long as you remain within the city. It is possible the forces of the Shadow King may find the hidden entrance in the storeroom, but if they do, we are prepared to cave in the tunnel on them. There are other ways into and out of the old ruins, ways they have not yet discovered. There is a branching off point in the tunnel through which you came that will take you up into the alley behind the Elven Blade. It would be best if you were not seen leaving the tavern. You could be followed.”

The hooded wizard reached inside his robe and withdrew a small, rolled up scroll that was banded with a green ribbon.

He handed it to Sorak.

“This will tell you what you need to know,” he said. “Ask me no more questions, for I have no answers to give you.”

The wizard turned to go.

“Wait,” said Sorak. “How shall I contact you again?”

“It would be best if you did not,” the wizard said. “The longer you remain here, the greater will be the risk to you and anyone who helps you. You have your quest, we have our struggle to wage. In the end, perhaps, our goals may be the same, but we must pursue them by our separate paths. Good luck, Nomad. May you find that which you seek. Come, Korahna.”

The princess looked at Sorak and Ryana. “Words are insufficient to express my feelings,” she said. “I will always be deeply indebted to you both.”

“You owe us nothing,” Sorak said.

“No, I owe you a great deal,” said Korahna, “and someday, perhaps, I can properly repay it.” She hugged Sorak, then Ryana. “Farewell, Sister,” she said. “You shall always be in my thoughts.”

“And you in mine,” Ryana said. “May your feet be steady on the Path.”

“And yours,” Korahna said. “Farewell.”

She handed the lantern to Ryana and went with the others. Their torches receded into the darkness of the underground ruins until they parted, going off into different directions and disappeared from sight. Sorak looked down at the rolled up scroll he held in his hand.

“And so another clue in our long search,” he said. “Let us see what this one holds.” He untied the green ribbon and unrolled the scroll. It merely said, “Burn in a safe and isolated place.”

“Well, this place certainly seems safe and isolated enough,” Ryana said. She held up the lantern. Sorak stuck a corner of the scroll into the flame. At once, as the flames licked up the length of the scroll, they began to burn with a blue-green fire. Sorak dropped the scroll onto the ground and they both stood back.

As the edges of the burning scroll curled up and blackened, sparks began to shoot forth, dancing up into the air. More of the scroll burned, and more sparks rose up, only instead of being extinguished as they rose, they grew brighter and swirled around in mad arabesques, like frenzied fireflies going around and around, faster and faster, eventually forming a swirling, sparking column of blue-green light. Within the light, a bare outline of a figure formed, its features indistinguishable but dressed in robes. The figure was a brighter light within the light, sparkling and giving off radiance that lit up the entire underground courtyard. And then it spoke.

“You have done well, my children. You have secured the Seals of Knowledge, corrected an injustice in rescuing the Princess Korahna, and proven your worth and your tenacity in your arduous journey across the Stony Barrens. But greater challenges, and still greater dangers, lie ahead. You must now leave the city of the Shadow King, and leave it quickly, for he has great power, and the time to deal with him has not yet come. Set your feet upon the path to the villiage of Salt View, across the Great Ivory Plain and beyond the Mekillot Mountains. There you must seek a druid known as the Silent One, who shall guide your to the ancient city of Bodach, where lies the next object of your quest. Guard the Seals of Knowledge with your lives, for together with what you shall find in Bodach, they hold the key that will unlock the final object of your quest.”

“But what are we to seek in Bodach?” Sorak asked.

There was no reply. The shimmering figure faded from view as the whirling sparks shot out in all directions and dissipated in the gloom of the underground ruins.

“Gith’s blood!” swore Sorak angrily. “He toys with us and poses riddles! Why does he not speak plainly and tell us what we need to know? How many more tests must we pass?”

“Perhaps he doles out the information we require in small portions,” said Ryana, “so that we cannot reveal all if we should fail and fall into defiler hands.”

“Now we must seek something in Bodach,” Sorak said in frustration, “and we know not what it is. And after that, he implies that there is yet a third object to be found, only we know not what or where.”

“Perhaps this druid called the Silent One, who is to be our guide, can tell us,” said Ryana.

Sorak sighed with exasperation. “Only to find him, we must first cross the Ivory Plain,” he said. “The barrens are nothing but miles of broken rock. The Great Ivory Plain is nothing but a sea of salt. And as if that were not enough, we must then make our way to Bodach, and the Silent One would have to be insane to willingly guide anyone to that evil place.”

“How is Bodach evil?” asked Ryana.

Sorak snorted. “How is it not evil?” He reached into his pack and pulled out The Wanderer’s Journal. “Listen this,” he said, opening the book and reading:

“Bodach, lying at the tip of a peninsula projecting into one of the great inland silt basins, was undoubtedly one of the mightiest cities of the ancients. Its ruins cover many square miles of the peninsula. When you stand at the edge of the silt basin, you can see its towers rising above the silt for many miles beyond.

“Unfortunately, Bodach and the surrounding territories are not good places to linger. As the crimson sun goes down, thousands of undead zombies and skeletons crawl out of the cellars, sewers, and hidden dungeons, then begin scouring the city and the surrounding countryside. If you are here after dark, you will spend the entire night fighting one long, pitched battle.

“I have talked to those who say that the undead are controlled by a powerful defiler who is using them to keep treasure hunters away from the city while he systematically loots it. Others claim that the undead are the original inhabitants of the city, and they cannot rest because there is some terrible secret buried in the heart of the ancient city that they do not want discovered. In either case, if you go to Bodach, be prepared for an intense battle against this gruesome army.”

“Oh,” said Ryana. “I see.”

“Note that nowhere does he say that he himself has been there,” Sorak said. “Even the Sage did not dare go to Bodach, and yet he sends us there.”