Rich Wulf - Rise of the Seventh Moon

“And she loved him,” Ashrem said. “So much that she chased his murderer across Khorvaire.”

“Eraina,” Tristam whispered.

“Show the book to the paladin, Tristam,” Zamiel said. “Perhaps she will find what you seek.”

“Tell Ijaac I am sorry for the deaths of his friends.” Ashrem sneered. Though it was obviously a reaction to whatever dialogue Norra had replaced, it struck Tristam as strange. Ashrem pulled the door open with a creaking wooden cough.

“Farewell, Tristam Xain,” Zamiel said. “Good luck.”

Ashrem’s fingers tightened on the brass handle. He glared over his shoulder at the prophet.

“I apologize, Master d’Cannith,” Zamiel said, bowing his head. “I did not mean to insult your good works. I did not anticipate that you would be the sort to shy away from knowledge. I cannot believe you would fear this opportunity.”

“Knowledge does not frighten me,” Ashrem said grimly.

It took Tristam a moment to realize that Ashrem and Zamiel were speaking in their own voices again. Whatever message Norra had left for him, it was over now. He felt a lump rise in his throat. In a way, this illusion had been Norra’s last words. Again, he wished he could have done something to save her.

Instead, he would ensure her death had not been for nothing.

Tristam extended his senses outward, piercing the illusion that surrounded him. He watched as Zamiel and Ashrem moved around him, seeing through their forms until he found what he sought. The weave of the magic was nearly identical to the illusory Ashrem that Tristam had encountered in Metrol. All of it had been a lie, meant to manipulate Tristam into taking up where Marth and Ashrem had left off.

But why? To what purpose? Why did Zamiel seem to wish mortals to create and use the Legacy?

The illusion faded, leaving Tristam in his bed again. There was only one person who could answer that question now.

“Eraina!” he called, struggling out of his bed. He grabbed Zed’s crutch, struggling to find his balance and hold the thick journal in the same hand. He limped down the corridor to find Eraina’s cabin open, but she was not inside. Instead he found her in the hold, kneeling in meditation beside Omax and Ijaac. They opened their eyes as he entered.

Tristam looked at Ijaac with some surprise.

“What?” Ijaac asked, blushing slightly. “A dwarf isn’t allowed to seek inner peace?”

“Tristam, are you all right?” Eraina asked, looking at him in concern.

Omax rose and grasped Tristam’s hand with one shoulder. In his excitement, the wounded artificer hadn’t even realized how close he was to falling over.

“The book,” Tristam said, flipping the pages open and holding it out toward her. “Can you read this?”

Eraina looked at the journal warily as she took it from Tristam’s hands. “What is this about, Tristam?” she asked.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Can you read it?”

“I think so,” she said. “It looks like the same dialect in the caverns beneath Fort Ash. I …” Eraina trailed off as she studied the text. She sat down on a barrel and stared at the pages more intently.

“Eraina, what is it?” Ijaac asked.

“I’m not sure,” Eraina said. “That all depends on if what I’m reading is true or not.”

“I thought you could tell what was true from what wasn’t,” the dwarf said, worried.

Eraina read in silence for several more minutes, ignoring the dwarf’s comment. Tristam leaned against a crate of rations, propping his injured foot on a barrel. Omax watched impassively. Ijaac returned to his meditation.

“It’s a transcription of the Draconic Prophecy,” Eraina said. “From the notes in the margins, this passage was originally discovered in a cavern guarded by a powerful flight of copper dragons. The author repeatedly expresses his thanks for a friend’s aid in informing him how to slip past the guards and magical protections. He doesn’t say who the friend is.”

“Zamiel,” Tristam said.

Omax looked at him in surprise. “Zed said that the book is over a century old, Tristam.”

“That’s really not surprising,” Eraina said. “Dragons are effectively immortal. They tend to live until something kills them.”

“What else does it say, Eraina?” Tristam asked.

“The actual prophecy is rather simple,” she said. “It begins by speaking of the past, recalling the battle between dragonkind and the demons, where the Legacy would be born on the plains of bone.”

“The battle that created the Boneyard,” Tristam said.

“But it also says that in creating the Legacy, the dragons awakened something powerful and ancient and drew its attention to this world,” Eraina said. “It is referred to as the Timeless, but it is a being with no true name. Its strength could be seen through the Dragon’s Eye. Each time the Legacy is used, a piece of its soul becomes trapped in this world forever. Though it has all the power any being can desire, it wishes for more.”

“More?” Ijaac asked. “What more could it need?”

“An end to solitude,” Omax said. “The Timeless must be the same being that I have sensed each time the Legacy is used. What becomes of the pieces of its soul after they enter our world?”

“It does not say,” Eraina said, glancing from page to page. “It jumps abruptly. I think a page has been removed.”

“Zamiel wanted to keep the rest of the truth for himself,” Tristam said.

“The next part sounds quite a bit like the vision you had in Zul’nadn,” Eraina said. She frowned. “A few details are significantly different. You won’t like this.”

“Tell me,” Tristam said.

“It speaks of a conqueror, wise, powerful, and immortal,” she said.

Tristam frowned. “In Zul’nadn, the conqueror was mortal.”

“I warned you,” she said. “The conqueror will be one who has walked long in shadow, one who has denied his own kind and been cast out from his homeland. Though he has never touched the Legacy, he has witnessed and mastered its power.”

“So Zamiel isn’t looking for a conqueror,” Tristam said. “He is the conqueror. He was just looking for a pawn to craft the Legacy for him so he could fulfill his own destiny.”

“When the Legacy burns the sky,” Eraina said, “the Timeless will begin to awaken.”

“Referring to Marth’s attack on Sharn,” Tristam said.

“The veil between our worlds will grow thin,” she continued. “The last Heir of Ash will take up the Legacy and restore what has been shattered as the moon burns around him.”

“Hm,” Ijaac said grimly. “Sounds like that part has already happened, too.”

“What happens next?” Tristam asked.

“One moon must pass for each that has fallen,” Eraina said.

“Seven days,” Omax said. “For the Seventh Moon .”

“Then the plains of bone will know the touch of the Timeless,” she continued. “The conqueror will seek him, and they shall become one. The conqueror’s enemies will recognize their weakness and be forever laid low.”

“Ouch,” Ijaac said. “Sounds like we’re destined to lose.”

No,” Tristam said fiercely. “Zamiel has lied to further his own ends before. Khyber, you already said part of the transcription is missing. We have no way of knowing what the missing section says.”

“Or if what we have seen is even genuine,” Omax said.

“Omax is right,” Eraina said. “All of this could be a trap, Tristam.”

“Maybe,” Tristam said, “but right now we have nothing else. Zamiel didn’t expect me to find that book just yet. He killed Norra to keep it a secret. He probably didn’t expect the prophecy to be fulfilled so soon, either. If the Boneyard really is manifest zone bordering on whatever realm this Timeless dwells in, maybe we can use the Legacy the same way we did in Zul’nadn. Maybe we can close it off from our world forever. We have one last chance.”