The Warlock's Curse (The Syrane Chronicles Book 4), page 11
The book.
As Gwidion’s consciousness traversed the hidden pathways of the arcane, he finally glimpsed the elusive tome, Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum. It flickered like a distant star in the vast cosmic expanse, its presence undeniable, but… maddeningly out of reach.
Zastrokas seemed to sense their proximity to the coveted book. A sinister, victorious laugh seemed to echo within Gwidion’s thoughts.
“There, Gwidion, there it is!”
With every fibre of his being, Gwidion reached out, his mind extending towards the book. The globes whirled before him, each one showing a flicker of the book. But as he drew nearer, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and twist around it. It was as though the tome existed in a place that defied the laws of time and space.
Zastrokas’ initial elation twisted into a frenzied rage as the truth became apparent.
“No! It cannot be! The book, it eludes us.”
Gwidion’s mental grasp recoiled as he realised the futility of their efforts. Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum was not simply hidden within the mortal realm; it was adrift in the vast cosmic currents, a fragment of forgotten knowledge cast adrift.
The young warlock felt a surge of frustration mingling with Zastrokas’ seething anger. The demon’s sinister presence darkened the very essence of their connection.
“Curse this book!” Zastrokas hissed. “To be so close and yet so impossibly far. We must retrieve it, Gwidion.”
“Why can’t we see it? I feel its touch, but it’s as if the book flees from our view each time.”
“The book is hidden,” whispered the demon. “They conceal it in another realm, far from this one. Far from our reach,” he snarled. Gwidion’s mind recoiled from the demon’s anger. Zastrokas’ wrath was a powerful thing. “There must be a way to find out where! The cosmos is vast. Yet someone must know where it resides.”
Gwidion, still reeling from the outburst, struggled to regain his composure. The book’s distant, shifting, unclear location weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, he wished to appease his master.
“Perhaps we could amend our search,” he cried. “Perhaps those with knowledge of its whereabouts can be found, rather than locating the book itself. It is but a small step, but it will place us upon the path of finding the book again,”
Gwidion could feel Zastrokas, though still seething, reluctantly acknowledge the truth in his words.
11. But Xiphos is dead.
“But Xiphos is dead,” Gamnus said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would Venarri go to such lengths to escape him if he no longer poses a threat?”
Orevus’ spectral form rippled, and for a moment, it appeared he hesitated before responding.
“The machinations of Xiphos transcend the mortal realm,” he explained, his voice fervent. “His ambitions and thirst for power were not bound by the confines of life and death. Even in his demise, his dark influence lingers.”
Carg’s eyes widened as he absorbed this chilling revelation.
“You mean to say that even in death, Xiphos’ nefarious schemes continue to haunt our world?” he asked.
Orevus nodded. The spectral glow of his form intensified briefly.
“Precisely. Xiphos had delved into forbidden magics from beyond our realm. His knowledge and his wickedness transcended the boundaries of life itself. It was not merely his physical presence that Venarri sought to escape, but the spectre of his dark legacy.” The ghostly mage seemed compelled to reveal more about Venarri’s mysterious mission into the perilous periphery. His spectral form pulsed with a faint light as he shared more of the puzzling tale. Orevus’ voice grew stronger. He seemed to become more aware as he continued.
“Venarri’s journey into the periphery was not solely about seeking refuge from Xiphos. She carried with her a relic of unparalleled power, a tome known as Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged bewildered glances at the complex and unfamiliar name.
“What is this book, and why was it so crucial that she protect it?” Carg asked, leaning in closer, trying to grasp the significance of the revelation.
Orevus’ form shimmered, as if he struggled to maintain his spectral presence.
“The book is a compendium of celestial sorcery,” he explained, his voice laden with a mix of reverence and trepidation. “Within its pages lie incantations and secrets that could harness the very power of the stars, altering the course of destinies and reshaping the fabric of reality itself.”
The gravity of what Orevus revealed captivated Gamnus and Carg. Such a book held the potential for both great wonders and unimaginable destruction, and its mere existence hinted at the magnitude of the dangers that lurked within.
“Venarri’s decision to bring the book here was a desperate gambit to keep it from falling into Xiphos’ hands. She believed that within the periphery, its secrets would be safeguarded from him. Venarri feared not only the lingering influence of Xiphos but also the insidious ambitions of other dark powers. This book holds within its ancient pages the secrets of a long-forgotten magic. A magic so potent that it could resurrect gods from the realm of the dead.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged wide-eyed glances, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Orevus had just divulged. The notion that such a powerful and forbidden magic existed was staggering.
“Resurrect gods?” Carg muttered. “But why would anyone seek to bring back deities from the realm of the dead?”
“The motives of those who covet such power are as ancient as time itself.” Orevus’ spectral form pulsed as he spoke. “To wield the might of resurrected gods is to command unparalleled dominion over the realms, both mortal, and divine. It is a temptation that has led to the downfall of empires and the corruption of souls.”
Carg took a deep breath, his thoughts racing.
“So, Venarri’s mission was not only about stopping Xiphos but also about safeguarding this world from the cataclysmic consequences of the book falling into the wrong hands.”
Orevus nodded, his spectral gaze unwavering.
“Indeed, and that is why her journey into the periphery was fraught with peril. To protect the knowledge within the book and ensure it remains beyond the reach of those who would misuse it.” Orevus’ spectral presence cast eerie shadows in the dimly lit room as he spoke. “You must understand the gravity of the situation. Venarri’s mission was not just a personal quest; it was a duty to protect the world from a peril that stretches far beyond even the reach of Xiphos.”
The room seemed to grow colder as Orevus continued.
“There are those, ancient and wicked, who seek the forbidden knowledge contained within ‘Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.’ They are driven by the darkest of desires; to resurrect gods long banished from existence, to breathe life into abominations that should never again walk the realms of mortals. In Xiphos’ case, to reach out across the realms to restore the power that was once his.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged another uneasy glance. The implications of Orevus’ words hung heavily in the air.
“Evil, dead gods,” Carg muttered. “We thought such beings were forever vanquished, their names struck from history.”
Orevus nodded sombrely.
“Indeed, but the allure of godlike power is a temptation that transcends time and morality. These seekers will unleash horrors upon the world that even our ancestors dared not imagine.”
Orevus’ spectral presence filled the room, and his words hung heavily in the air. When he spoke, his tone carried a deep sadness.
“Venarri sought the book ‘Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum’ with a noble and desperate purpose. She hoped to resurrect Kaaldir, the long-dead god of the elves.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged surprised glances. Orevus continued.
“But, as she delved deeper into the forbidden arts contained within the book, she understood the immense peril she would unleash upon herself and the world. The magic required to resurrect a god is beyond comprehension, and the consequences of doing so are catastrophic.”
Gamnus’ brows furrowed in concern.
“What consequences are we talking about?” He looked about the room. “Are we talking apocalypse? If the book falls into the hands of an amateur sorcerer, will it mean the end of the world? Or is it just ‘let’s not do this because it could cause a minor flood in a Mage’s Tower catacombs’ kinda problem?”
Orevus’ spectral form seemed to tremble with the weight of his words.
“Should we instigate the ritual to resurrect a god, it would not only bring ruin upon the land, but could tear open rifts in the fabric of reality itself. Chaos, destruction, and the release of dark forces that have slumbered for ages would be inevitable.”
Carg’s eyes widened with understanding.
“Venarri realised her actions might attract the attention of those who seek power at any cost,” he said.
Orevus nodded gravely.
“Indeed, she knew it drew evil forces to such endeavours. Her motives were noble, but the danger she faced grew too great. She needed to hide the book to protect it from those who would exploit its secrets for their own sinister purposes.” Orevus’ spectral presence shimmered as he continued.
“Venarri discovered a realm untouched by magic, a place where the very essence of sorcery and arcane arts was absent. In her desperation to safeguard the book, she made a momentous decision. She sent the book to this magic-devoid realm, ensuring it would remain hidden from the prying eyes of mages and sorcerers.”
“But,” Orevus said, “this act was not without its consequences. By banishing the book to a realm devoid of magic, Venarri also cut off her own connection to it. She sacrificed her ability to control or retrieve the book should the need arise. Venarri remains in the periphery, steadfastly guarding the portal to the magic-dead realm. She has chosen this self-imposed exile to ensure that the dangerous knowledge contained within the book remains hidden from those who would seek to misuse it.” The spectral figure smiled. “She was clever, our elven High Mage. She not only found a world without magic, but she cast it into the past, hundreds of years ago. It is safe there.”
Gamnus snorted.
“So Venarri is apparently guarding the gateway to a magic-dead realm like a guardian of the alehouse? No magic for you, Xiphos!” he quipped, impersonating Venarri’s stern demeanour.
Orevus ignored the jest and continued his monologue.
“By staying in the periphery and maintaining her vigilant watch, Venarri has isolated herself from our world, cut off from the magic she once wielded.”
Carg’s expression turned sombre.
“So, Venarri continues to stand as the guardian of the book, even though it means her separation from us.”
“Yes. She will remain in the periphery and guard the portal,” Orevus said.
“What became of the Corazón?” Carg asked.
“And who ransacked your house?” Gamnus asked.
“Xiphos took the Corazón,” Orevus said. “The lych sought its essence for a nefarious purpose, a dark ritual aimed at capturing a wandering spirit and bending it to his malevolent will.”
As he spoke, Orevus’ form wavered, as if he himself were a part of the ancient tale he recounted. His words carried an otherworldly weight. His gaze shifted between Carg and Gamnus, a silent plea for understanding in his ethereal eyes.
“And as for the ransacking of my abode,” Orevus said, “It was also Xiphos, in his search for the elusive tome.”
A haunting sigh echoed through the air as Orevus spoke of the violated sanctuary.
“Failing to find Venarri, his wrath manifested in the destruction of my haven. The Corazón, taken intending to augment his dark spells, became a pawn in a greater game.” Orevus sighed. “The periphery, being a realm between realms, has its own subtle rules and boundaries. In his current state, Xiphos cannot directly enter such ethereal domains.” He paused for a moment. “But cunning as the shadows he commands, Xiphos sought an alternative path. By seizing the Corazón and capturing a lost soul, he aimed to create a bridge between the periphery and the mortal realm. To use the enslaved spirit as a vessel to enact his dark will.”
Orevus’ translucent form pulsed with an otherworldly glow.
“The periphery, although a sanctuary for departed souls, is not impervious to manipulation by those who seek to bend its energies to their own sinister ends.”
“Why can’t Xiphos enter the periphery?” Carg asked.
“The periphery is under the watchful eye of Dian, Lord of the dead. In that realm, his influence extends, and he holds a certain dominion. The periphery is a refuge for departed souls, a place between worlds where the balance between life and death is delicately maintained. Dian, in his role as a guardian of the periphery, does not permit the entry of entities tainted by malevolence. Be they evil gods, undead abominations, or those who seek to exploit the delicate balance of the afterlife.”
Orevus’ gaze turned distant, as if he was peering into the unseen realms.
“Xiphos, having embraced the darkness and the forbidden art of lychdom, finds himself barred from the periphery. The sanctity of that realm resists the intrusion of those who would disrupt the natural order of the afterlife.”
With a sombre air, Orevus concluded. “Thus, unable to enter directly, Xiphos resorts to manipulation and subterfuge. He seeks to extend his influence through enslaved souls and artifacts that bridge the gap between the mortal realm and the periphery.”
“What about Turgon?” Gamnus asked.
“Turgon?” whispered Orevus.
“Turgon,” said Gamnus. “Elf. Cleric. Friend of a friend,” he said. “He went missing when Venarri disappeared.”
“I know naught of this Turgon,” replied Orevus.
“Can anyone get into the periphery?” Carg asked.
Orevus nodded his translucent head.
“Yes,” he said. “Powerful mages, or the archmages, can do so.” His visage frowned. “You must find Xiphos. He has returned, and if he finds another means to restore his might, with his full power, he could enter the periphery.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged a worried glance. Bowen had ranted about Xiphos being reborn, and they had not believed him. They would need to find Garth Bowen and tell him of their discovery. Gamnus couldn’t believe what he heard.
“Ah, so we’re chasing a book that dabbles in the dark arts, powerful enough to resurrect deities. It hides in a realm without magic, while we’re being pursued by archmages!” Gamnus cried. “What kind of deranged fuckwits even write books like that? What’s wrong with just writing a story about farm animals or taking your crop to sell at market?” he slapped his head to emphasise the point. “And what do we do with Xiphos if we find him?” Gamnus asked. “I mean, he is an archmage. I’m not sure we have the power to stop him from doing whatever he pleases.” Gamnus grinned. “Ah, but what’s an adventure without a few hiccups along the way? Besides, I’ve always said, if we wanted a simple life, we’d have become bakers.”
Carg spoke up, his dry humour adding to the banter.
“But then we’d have to deal with the perils of burnt bread and angry customers instead.”
Orevus ‘harrumphed’ and continued.
“Venarri is sure that Xiphos does not have his full might. She believes the outsider, Hawkwind, took the archmage’s power when he left our realm. With him safely away, Xiphos is severely weakened,” Orevus said.
“Duncan has Xiphos’ power?” Gamnus screwed up his nose. “How does that work?”
“The sword!” Carg cried, startling Gamnus. “He has Ezekiel’s sword! It must contain Xiphos’ power!”
###
Gwidion, his countenance now marked by the eerie patterns that had manifested during his dark transformation, stood in a dimly lit chamber within the temple. Around him were the enigmatic scrying globes, the ominous crystal orbs suspended in the air.
With a determined yet frustrated expression, Gwidion extended his hands toward the scrying globes. His fingers trembled as he wove the incantation, tapping into their mystical properties. His consciousness expanded, reaching out across the vast expanse of Syrane in search of any mention, any sign of the elusive book; Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.
Within the scrying globes, scenes from different corners of Syrane flickered to life. He glimpsed busy marketplaces, verdant forests, and grand libraries. But, alas, there was no mention of the coveted tome. No trace of the book’s whereabouts or the secrets it held.
Frustration welled up within Gwidion. He clenched his fists in exasperation. The mystical patterns on his skin shifted ominously in response.
But the scrying globes remained stubbornly silent, revealing nothing of the book’s location.
Gwidion’s mind churned with unease. The book, the key to his newfound purpose and power, seemed to elude him at every turn. But he knew he couldn’t give up, for the sinister force that had guided him into darkness demanded nothing less. As Gwidion continued his relentless scrying, his heightened senses tingling with anticipation, a tantalising fragment of conversation brushed against the edges of his consciousness. It was like a whisper carried by the wind, a fleeting mention of the book he so desperately sought.
“Drý-cræft … ancient power…” The words flitted on the fringe of his awareness, like elusive phantoms. Gwidion’s heart quickened, and his eyes narrowed as he strained to focus on the source of this tantalizing clue.
His fingers trembled as he made intricate gestures, manipulating the scrying globes with a newfound intensity. The scenes within them shifted and swirled, voices and images in Syrane’s diverse tapestry of life ebbing and flowing.
But the tantalizing thread of information remained elusive, slipping through his grasp like a wisp of smoke. Gwidion’s frustration grew, his connection to Zastrokas fuelling his determination. He couldn’t afford to lose this lead, not when he was so close to uncovering the secrets of the book’s whereabouts.
With beads of sweat forming on his brow, Gwidion pushed his scrying abilities to their limits. He delved deeper, seeking the origin of that elusive mention, desperately trying to narrow down the source. Yet, despite his efforts, the fragment of conversation remained maddeningly vague and distant.
As Gwidion’s consciousness traversed the hidden pathways of the arcane, he finally glimpsed the elusive tome, Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum. It flickered like a distant star in the vast cosmic expanse, its presence undeniable, but… maddeningly out of reach.
Zastrokas seemed to sense their proximity to the coveted book. A sinister, victorious laugh seemed to echo within Gwidion’s thoughts.
“There, Gwidion, there it is!”
With every fibre of his being, Gwidion reached out, his mind extending towards the book. The globes whirled before him, each one showing a flicker of the book. But as he drew nearer, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and twist around it. It was as though the tome existed in a place that defied the laws of time and space.
Zastrokas’ initial elation twisted into a frenzied rage as the truth became apparent.
“No! It cannot be! The book, it eludes us.”
Gwidion’s mental grasp recoiled as he realised the futility of their efforts. Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum was not simply hidden within the mortal realm; it was adrift in the vast cosmic currents, a fragment of forgotten knowledge cast adrift.
The young warlock felt a surge of frustration mingling with Zastrokas’ seething anger. The demon’s sinister presence darkened the very essence of their connection.
“Curse this book!” Zastrokas hissed. “To be so close and yet so impossibly far. We must retrieve it, Gwidion.”
“Why can’t we see it? I feel its touch, but it’s as if the book flees from our view each time.”
“The book is hidden,” whispered the demon. “They conceal it in another realm, far from this one. Far from our reach,” he snarled. Gwidion’s mind recoiled from the demon’s anger. Zastrokas’ wrath was a powerful thing. “There must be a way to find out where! The cosmos is vast. Yet someone must know where it resides.”
Gwidion, still reeling from the outburst, struggled to regain his composure. The book’s distant, shifting, unclear location weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, he wished to appease his master.
“Perhaps we could amend our search,” he cried. “Perhaps those with knowledge of its whereabouts can be found, rather than locating the book itself. It is but a small step, but it will place us upon the path of finding the book again,”
Gwidion could feel Zastrokas, though still seething, reluctantly acknowledge the truth in his words.
11. But Xiphos is dead.
“But Xiphos is dead,” Gamnus said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would Venarri go to such lengths to escape him if he no longer poses a threat?”
Orevus’ spectral form rippled, and for a moment, it appeared he hesitated before responding.
“The machinations of Xiphos transcend the mortal realm,” he explained, his voice fervent. “His ambitions and thirst for power were not bound by the confines of life and death. Even in his demise, his dark influence lingers.”
Carg’s eyes widened as he absorbed this chilling revelation.
“You mean to say that even in death, Xiphos’ nefarious schemes continue to haunt our world?” he asked.
Orevus nodded. The spectral glow of his form intensified briefly.
“Precisely. Xiphos had delved into forbidden magics from beyond our realm. His knowledge and his wickedness transcended the boundaries of life itself. It was not merely his physical presence that Venarri sought to escape, but the spectre of his dark legacy.” The ghostly mage seemed compelled to reveal more about Venarri’s mysterious mission into the perilous periphery. His spectral form pulsed with a faint light as he shared more of the puzzling tale. Orevus’ voice grew stronger. He seemed to become more aware as he continued.
“Venarri’s journey into the periphery was not solely about seeking refuge from Xiphos. She carried with her a relic of unparalleled power, a tome known as Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged bewildered glances at the complex and unfamiliar name.
“What is this book, and why was it so crucial that she protect it?” Carg asked, leaning in closer, trying to grasp the significance of the revelation.
Orevus’ form shimmered, as if he struggled to maintain his spectral presence.
“The book is a compendium of celestial sorcery,” he explained, his voice laden with a mix of reverence and trepidation. “Within its pages lie incantations and secrets that could harness the very power of the stars, altering the course of destinies and reshaping the fabric of reality itself.”
The gravity of what Orevus revealed captivated Gamnus and Carg. Such a book held the potential for both great wonders and unimaginable destruction, and its mere existence hinted at the magnitude of the dangers that lurked within.
“Venarri’s decision to bring the book here was a desperate gambit to keep it from falling into Xiphos’ hands. She believed that within the periphery, its secrets would be safeguarded from him. Venarri feared not only the lingering influence of Xiphos but also the insidious ambitions of other dark powers. This book holds within its ancient pages the secrets of a long-forgotten magic. A magic so potent that it could resurrect gods from the realm of the dead.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged wide-eyed glances, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Orevus had just divulged. The notion that such a powerful and forbidden magic existed was staggering.
“Resurrect gods?” Carg muttered. “But why would anyone seek to bring back deities from the realm of the dead?”
“The motives of those who covet such power are as ancient as time itself.” Orevus’ spectral form pulsed as he spoke. “To wield the might of resurrected gods is to command unparalleled dominion over the realms, both mortal, and divine. It is a temptation that has led to the downfall of empires and the corruption of souls.”
Carg took a deep breath, his thoughts racing.
“So, Venarri’s mission was not only about stopping Xiphos but also about safeguarding this world from the cataclysmic consequences of the book falling into the wrong hands.”
Orevus nodded, his spectral gaze unwavering.
“Indeed, and that is why her journey into the periphery was fraught with peril. To protect the knowledge within the book and ensure it remains beyond the reach of those who would misuse it.” Orevus’ spectral presence cast eerie shadows in the dimly lit room as he spoke. “You must understand the gravity of the situation. Venarri’s mission was not just a personal quest; it was a duty to protect the world from a peril that stretches far beyond even the reach of Xiphos.”
The room seemed to grow colder as Orevus continued.
“There are those, ancient and wicked, who seek the forbidden knowledge contained within ‘Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.’ They are driven by the darkest of desires; to resurrect gods long banished from existence, to breathe life into abominations that should never again walk the realms of mortals. In Xiphos’ case, to reach out across the realms to restore the power that was once his.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged another uneasy glance. The implications of Orevus’ words hung heavily in the air.
“Evil, dead gods,” Carg muttered. “We thought such beings were forever vanquished, their names struck from history.”
Orevus nodded sombrely.
“Indeed, but the allure of godlike power is a temptation that transcends time and morality. These seekers will unleash horrors upon the world that even our ancestors dared not imagine.”
Orevus’ spectral presence filled the room, and his words hung heavily in the air. When he spoke, his tone carried a deep sadness.
“Venarri sought the book ‘Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum’ with a noble and desperate purpose. She hoped to resurrect Kaaldir, the long-dead god of the elves.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged surprised glances. Orevus continued.
“But, as she delved deeper into the forbidden arts contained within the book, she understood the immense peril she would unleash upon herself and the world. The magic required to resurrect a god is beyond comprehension, and the consequences of doing so are catastrophic.”
Gamnus’ brows furrowed in concern.
“What consequences are we talking about?” He looked about the room. “Are we talking apocalypse? If the book falls into the hands of an amateur sorcerer, will it mean the end of the world? Or is it just ‘let’s not do this because it could cause a minor flood in a Mage’s Tower catacombs’ kinda problem?”
Orevus’ spectral form seemed to tremble with the weight of his words.
“Should we instigate the ritual to resurrect a god, it would not only bring ruin upon the land, but could tear open rifts in the fabric of reality itself. Chaos, destruction, and the release of dark forces that have slumbered for ages would be inevitable.”
Carg’s eyes widened with understanding.
“Venarri realised her actions might attract the attention of those who seek power at any cost,” he said.
Orevus nodded gravely.
“Indeed, she knew it drew evil forces to such endeavours. Her motives were noble, but the danger she faced grew too great. She needed to hide the book to protect it from those who would exploit its secrets for their own sinister purposes.” Orevus’ spectral presence shimmered as he continued.
“Venarri discovered a realm untouched by magic, a place where the very essence of sorcery and arcane arts was absent. In her desperation to safeguard the book, she made a momentous decision. She sent the book to this magic-devoid realm, ensuring it would remain hidden from the prying eyes of mages and sorcerers.”
“But,” Orevus said, “this act was not without its consequences. By banishing the book to a realm devoid of magic, Venarri also cut off her own connection to it. She sacrificed her ability to control or retrieve the book should the need arise. Venarri remains in the periphery, steadfastly guarding the portal to the magic-dead realm. She has chosen this self-imposed exile to ensure that the dangerous knowledge contained within the book remains hidden from those who would seek to misuse it.” The spectral figure smiled. “She was clever, our elven High Mage. She not only found a world without magic, but she cast it into the past, hundreds of years ago. It is safe there.”
Gamnus snorted.
“So Venarri is apparently guarding the gateway to a magic-dead realm like a guardian of the alehouse? No magic for you, Xiphos!” he quipped, impersonating Venarri’s stern demeanour.
Orevus ignored the jest and continued his monologue.
“By staying in the periphery and maintaining her vigilant watch, Venarri has isolated herself from our world, cut off from the magic she once wielded.”
Carg’s expression turned sombre.
“So, Venarri continues to stand as the guardian of the book, even though it means her separation from us.”
“Yes. She will remain in the periphery and guard the portal,” Orevus said.
“What became of the Corazón?” Carg asked.
“And who ransacked your house?” Gamnus asked.
“Xiphos took the Corazón,” Orevus said. “The lych sought its essence for a nefarious purpose, a dark ritual aimed at capturing a wandering spirit and bending it to his malevolent will.”
As he spoke, Orevus’ form wavered, as if he himself were a part of the ancient tale he recounted. His words carried an otherworldly weight. His gaze shifted between Carg and Gamnus, a silent plea for understanding in his ethereal eyes.
“And as for the ransacking of my abode,” Orevus said, “It was also Xiphos, in his search for the elusive tome.”
A haunting sigh echoed through the air as Orevus spoke of the violated sanctuary.
“Failing to find Venarri, his wrath manifested in the destruction of my haven. The Corazón, taken intending to augment his dark spells, became a pawn in a greater game.” Orevus sighed. “The periphery, being a realm between realms, has its own subtle rules and boundaries. In his current state, Xiphos cannot directly enter such ethereal domains.” He paused for a moment. “But cunning as the shadows he commands, Xiphos sought an alternative path. By seizing the Corazón and capturing a lost soul, he aimed to create a bridge between the periphery and the mortal realm. To use the enslaved spirit as a vessel to enact his dark will.”
Orevus’ translucent form pulsed with an otherworldly glow.
“The periphery, although a sanctuary for departed souls, is not impervious to manipulation by those who seek to bend its energies to their own sinister ends.”
“Why can’t Xiphos enter the periphery?” Carg asked.
“The periphery is under the watchful eye of Dian, Lord of the dead. In that realm, his influence extends, and he holds a certain dominion. The periphery is a refuge for departed souls, a place between worlds where the balance between life and death is delicately maintained. Dian, in his role as a guardian of the periphery, does not permit the entry of entities tainted by malevolence. Be they evil gods, undead abominations, or those who seek to exploit the delicate balance of the afterlife.”
Orevus’ gaze turned distant, as if he was peering into the unseen realms.
“Xiphos, having embraced the darkness and the forbidden art of lychdom, finds himself barred from the periphery. The sanctity of that realm resists the intrusion of those who would disrupt the natural order of the afterlife.”
With a sombre air, Orevus concluded. “Thus, unable to enter directly, Xiphos resorts to manipulation and subterfuge. He seeks to extend his influence through enslaved souls and artifacts that bridge the gap between the mortal realm and the periphery.”
“What about Turgon?” Gamnus asked.
“Turgon?” whispered Orevus.
“Turgon,” said Gamnus. “Elf. Cleric. Friend of a friend,” he said. “He went missing when Venarri disappeared.”
“I know naught of this Turgon,” replied Orevus.
“Can anyone get into the periphery?” Carg asked.
Orevus nodded his translucent head.
“Yes,” he said. “Powerful mages, or the archmages, can do so.” His visage frowned. “You must find Xiphos. He has returned, and if he finds another means to restore his might, with his full power, he could enter the periphery.”
Gamnus and Carg exchanged a worried glance. Bowen had ranted about Xiphos being reborn, and they had not believed him. They would need to find Garth Bowen and tell him of their discovery. Gamnus couldn’t believe what he heard.
“Ah, so we’re chasing a book that dabbles in the dark arts, powerful enough to resurrect deities. It hides in a realm without magic, while we’re being pursued by archmages!” Gamnus cried. “What kind of deranged fuckwits even write books like that? What’s wrong with just writing a story about farm animals or taking your crop to sell at market?” he slapped his head to emphasise the point. “And what do we do with Xiphos if we find him?” Gamnus asked. “I mean, he is an archmage. I’m not sure we have the power to stop him from doing whatever he pleases.” Gamnus grinned. “Ah, but what’s an adventure without a few hiccups along the way? Besides, I’ve always said, if we wanted a simple life, we’d have become bakers.”
Carg spoke up, his dry humour adding to the banter.
“But then we’d have to deal with the perils of burnt bread and angry customers instead.”
Orevus ‘harrumphed’ and continued.
“Venarri is sure that Xiphos does not have his full might. She believes the outsider, Hawkwind, took the archmage’s power when he left our realm. With him safely away, Xiphos is severely weakened,” Orevus said.
“Duncan has Xiphos’ power?” Gamnus screwed up his nose. “How does that work?”
“The sword!” Carg cried, startling Gamnus. “He has Ezekiel’s sword! It must contain Xiphos’ power!”
###
Gwidion, his countenance now marked by the eerie patterns that had manifested during his dark transformation, stood in a dimly lit chamber within the temple. Around him were the enigmatic scrying globes, the ominous crystal orbs suspended in the air.
With a determined yet frustrated expression, Gwidion extended his hands toward the scrying globes. His fingers trembled as he wove the incantation, tapping into their mystical properties. His consciousness expanded, reaching out across the vast expanse of Syrane in search of any mention, any sign of the elusive book; Drý-cræft Drífan drýcræftas Mid drýcræftum.
Within the scrying globes, scenes from different corners of Syrane flickered to life. He glimpsed busy marketplaces, verdant forests, and grand libraries. But, alas, there was no mention of the coveted tome. No trace of the book’s whereabouts or the secrets it held.
Frustration welled up within Gwidion. He clenched his fists in exasperation. The mystical patterns on his skin shifted ominously in response.
But the scrying globes remained stubbornly silent, revealing nothing of the book’s location.
Gwidion’s mind churned with unease. The book, the key to his newfound purpose and power, seemed to elude him at every turn. But he knew he couldn’t give up, for the sinister force that had guided him into darkness demanded nothing less. As Gwidion continued his relentless scrying, his heightened senses tingling with anticipation, a tantalising fragment of conversation brushed against the edges of his consciousness. It was like a whisper carried by the wind, a fleeting mention of the book he so desperately sought.
“Drý-cræft … ancient power…” The words flitted on the fringe of his awareness, like elusive phantoms. Gwidion’s heart quickened, and his eyes narrowed as he strained to focus on the source of this tantalizing clue.
His fingers trembled as he made intricate gestures, manipulating the scrying globes with a newfound intensity. The scenes within them shifted and swirled, voices and images in Syrane’s diverse tapestry of life ebbing and flowing.
But the tantalizing thread of information remained elusive, slipping through his grasp like a wisp of smoke. Gwidion’s frustration grew, his connection to Zastrokas fuelling his determination. He couldn’t afford to lose this lead, not when he was so close to uncovering the secrets of the book’s whereabouts.
With beads of sweat forming on his brow, Gwidion pushed his scrying abilities to their limits. He delved deeper, seeking the origin of that elusive mention, desperately trying to narrow down the source. Yet, despite his efforts, the fragment of conversation remained maddeningly vague and distant.
