A Spectre in Arskegg

Liesë had been drowning in books for several hours now. Since it had already been decided that the next day they would depart the abbey again to search for Satine, Liesë wanted to spend that one night under the roof reading the books on local magic that might be interesting to Einhart. She had intended to do so for a few days, but their recent excursions had disrupted her research.

So far she had scoured half the library, but found nothing matching her criteria. Any magical artifacts the books mentioned were located outside the province, and mostly already found by either the witch hunters or Einhart himself. The well of magical archeology in Rainhoven seemed dried up to the last drop.

Inelin province itself had little to no significance in the history of magic. It had always been a frontier, covered with dense forest and mountains. It used to have some presence of druids and shamans in the distant past, but they were purged with the arrival of the new religion several centuries back.

There were also various magical creatures of the forest: nymphs, ents, stone giants and many others, but those would have hardly been interesting to Einhart. Their magic didn’t suit his style. His modus operandi was to seek wonder weapons. And Inelin province didn’t have any to offer.

Over the centuries some mages had settled down in the area, but none were known to have been great warriors. Healers and miracle workers, yes, but not one battlemage or even a beast slayer. Among the mages of yore there was Yavaline, the Angel of the Woodlands, a herbalist and a great healer, who had once even visited their monastery at Gath. In fact, they shared a goal of kindness. The Sisterhood’s original mission was to heal and shelter pilgrims travelling to the nearby Sanctuary of Saint Enelra.

Ironic, that we turned against each other and practically wiped out their legacy over just twenty years. So much knowledge lost over a political dispute… What a waste.

In her books she also found a mention of Throlgir, the great tamer of beasts who helped mediate a truce between Rainhovenian settlers and local trolls. Without his help, establishing towns like Inelin would have been impossible, or at the very least, preceded by a bloody campaign against hitherto residents of the woods.

Going even further into the past, Liesë encountered a name she was unfamiliar with: Halandir. The old, disintegrating tome contained barely an encyclopedic stub about that wizard, but Liesë quickly realized his significance. He was an innovator in the field of arcane arts, elevating them from a primitive witchcraft to a science. Not much else was known about him, as his lifetime preceded any reliable chroniclers. The book, however, noted the place of his burial: a mound near the fork of Moza and Myrna rivers.

Could this be it? This is where our sisters encountered Einhart and his men. Could he be searching for the tomb of Halandir?

***

Father Kragavald waited for him on the battlements of the lower castle, where hardly any sentries were stationed. The night was silent and very dark, with thick clouds covering the moon.

Renfrid was nervous. He had told the knight commander about his findings before consulting with father Kragavald. Not only that, but he also mentioned the bridge sabotage, though he did underplay Kragavald’s role and elevated his own, hoping to impress de Montfort. He expected a scolding from the old inquisitor, at the very least. At worst, he would be taken off the case.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” – Kragavald asked. There was something strange in his voice.

“Well… yes.” – Renfrid muttered.

“Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?”

“Is it about what I told His Excellency yesterday?”

“Indeed…” – it wasn’t Kragavald’s voice. It was something else’s.

Suddenly, the inquisitor turned around in a lightning fast twist. His fingers extended into sharp claws and sunk into Renfrid’s chest. He tried to scream with pain, but found no strength to even make any noise. The blood poured down his abdomen as he was lifted from the ground and tossed over the battlements into the ravine.

Merciful God let him pass out from bleeding before he hit the rocks.

***

The knight commander was finishing his last cup of wine for the night, when he heard a knocking at the door.

“Come in!” – he shouted, rubbing his mouth with a handkerchief.

A hooded figure entered the room, wearing father Kragavald’s face.

“Oh, it’s you. How’s the matter with the boy?”

“Dealt with. And his squire too.” – the figure responded with a soft, feminine voice.

“Good. I knew I could count on you, Nuii.”

The figure changed into a young woman wearing a black, trailing robe. Her dark hair flowed down her back like a cape. She had a devious grimace on her pale, beautiful face.

“I’m not your hitman, Mik’nir, and I’m tired of taking care of loose ends you leave behind. I have more important tasks to do.”

“Of course, of course. I merely asked for a favor since you decided to pay me a visit.”

“Right…” – she poured herself some wine without asking for permission. – “Do you want me to take care of the old man too?”

“There’s no need yet. Kragavald is a useful asset, we can use him to take down Einhart once his time comes, and then we can dispose of him. The boy had been more useful to him than us, though, and could have helped Kragavald destroy Einhart before he finds the tomb.”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to discuss with you. I spoke with our master and he allowed me to disclose it to you: we have the password to the tomb of Halandir.”

“The password?”

“Yes. As it turns out, we not only have to find the tomb, but to access it, we need the seal and the answer to the riddle.”

“We may already be close to finding it.”

Nuii narrowed her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Einhart took his men outside the province. As the boy pointed out, it’s probable he’s on track leading to the tomb, as there isn’t really any other magical hardware laying about in the realm.”

“Our master doesn’t share your optimism.” – there was a faint threatening note in her voice. De Montfort shuddered.

“I assure you, we’ve been making good progress.”

“It better be true, for your sake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind… So we have the password and a good lead to the location. And what about that seal you mentioned?”

“It’s in possession of a wizard by the name of Katnir. I’ve followed him to Rainhoven.”

“I’ve never heard that name.”

“No wonder, he’s only ever been twice in Rainhoven, I believe. And he tries his best to remain inconspicuous.”

“Do you need me to send my men after him?”

“No. I’ll follow him personally and retrieve the seal when the opportunity arises. Besides, he may be able to locate the tomb before your rogue sorcerer does… By the way, it was really cheap of you to sabotage your own draw bridge to stage his escape.”

De Montfort found no words to answer.

“I’ll be taking my leave, then. Unless you need me to impersonate the boy to throw Kragavald off the track? I remember his face.”

“No, no need. The old fox might realize what you really are.”

Nuii let out a sinister laugh.

“Farewell, then. And keep fooling the Brotherhood that you’re on their side.”

“Yes, I know.”

With a twist of her body, she changed into an owl and flew through the open window. The knight commander sighed with concern and poured himself some more wine.

“We’ll see who will render a better service to our master. He’s bound to give the realm to me once I present him with the crystals.”