The Spell
Very close to the time that Korah and Lief had found their hill, Knight-General Adam Jenners delivered A'Rann Adams to Lord Drakkhar's private chambers in Duststand Citadel. Adams was scared into shivers though nothing bound his hands nor his legs, he was simply Drakkhar's evening guest of honor. He had never been there in that capacity before.
"i'll be spending the evening alone with Mr. Adams," Drakkhar spoke briefly, debriefing Knight-General Jenners from his sworn duty.
"And my orders, Lord Drakkhar?" Jenners asked. For a moment he hadn't thought he'd been heard by Drakkhar, but Drakkhar was a Drake and had lived nearly 167 years and had only recently hit the middle of the standard Drake life expectancy; Lord Drakkhar heard him perfectly.
"You've no orders at this time," Drakkhar spoke softly, smiling at Jenners.
"I need--," Jenners began, but Lord Drakkhar interrupted him.
"Do as you please, Adam," Drakkhar addressed his Knight-General personally, a rarity that surprised both Jenners and Adams.
"Thank you Lord--," Jenners began, stopped, then began again, "Thank you dear friend," he finally amended and proceeded to open another of his gateways and then stepped easily, away from Lord Drakkhars chambers. When he was gone, Drakkhar was silent a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Make yourself quite comfortable A'Rann. Your in no danger here, but only here to tell me where you've been these past eight months."
"My sincere apologies--" Adams began, but was interrupted.
"You need not be apologetic, only honest. Can you do that, A'Rann?" Drakkhar asked.
"Yes," Adams stuttered, his skin was cold and moist and he felt terrified, broken, but repentant as possible. "Yes, I can, Lord."
Another lapse into silence took place between Drakkhar and Adams. Drakkhar had plenty to say to the man, but he knew all of what that was--in several variations, there were too many multiples for each thought that even he couldn't accurately know what excactly A'Rann Adams had to say, only that he would tell him something. That he would certainly do.
Drakkhar was not an unkind man, just one that knew when silence was ever the best tactic in getting one he needed to talk to do so. A'Rann had grown old and, though he was doing an admirable job at hiding his fears and apprehensions. The man drank many tall cups of fresh water, and fresh water was all it was; Drakkhar personally did not believe in using tactics of subterfuge as much as he disliked inappropriate telepathy to do the job unless absolutely necessary. Drakkhar wasn't blessed with foresight--or even anything similar--but knew that those, both inside the White Guard and without, did have those abilities, should they be needed.
"I'm no thief, Drakkhar, I swear it. I came for my journals."
"I've handed them over to our newest Guardsman, Leif by name. I'm sure you met the Witch. I went through great tasks to ensure his safety." Drakkhar paused, then: "I rescued him from the Hallowed Dunes and he has been set to take over your duties. Among with others that you would be unfit to accomplish."
Drakkhar truly had done this, although he couldn't know whether or not the aged Adams knew that as well, only that he could. He knew that a demon had been after A'Rann Adams—Knight-General Jenners, in Adams presence, had debriefed Drakkhar. He was unsure where the demon had come from, and whether it had somehow come in on Adams somehow, or some form of Shade who waited down below in the Catacombs for Adams--or for any number of people who may or may not have been able to get down to the entity. Drakkhar found the latter highly unlikely.
"Yes, I've heard, from the Leif boy himself. It is good you rescued him from Hallowed Dunes; he would not have survived. It's not over for that one, I'm sure. Why--if you only knew the powers that desired such an audience—such a meeting as the one you and I are having, well…then you would know how troubled both the boy and those seeking him out are all quite troubled. And for good reason." Adams admitted, and in a very quick tongue, as though the words tasted terrible in his mouth and he was in great a hurry to get them out of his mouth so he may forget the experience.
That Leif Starchaser was both troubled and that he was being both made a pariah and hunted with great desire, Lord Xyloxis Drakkhar knew very well. It had been part of his sending whom he had sent to get to the boy first before any harm could come to him. What Drakkhar did not know was why he was so sought, or how he had managed to get in one of only a handful of very, very bad parts of The Hallowed Dunes with considerably very little, if any, permanent harm coming to him. It was all quite interesting to Drakkhar.
"The boy--this Leif, you have aided so--he said he enjoyed what he has read in my journals. That he could read them at all was a surprise all it's own. It was written in a very, very old tongue, though the boy didn't seem to mention difficulty in decoding them." Adams continued, though Drakkhar thought it quite possible he was trying to side-step something very important, something he didn't want to tell his captor.
"What's in them, that so compelled you to return for them. I promised you'd come to no harm and you shan't. These things though, must happen, A'Rann Adams," Lord Drakkhar paused, and for no particular reason that Adams knew, a matter of great frustration clearly in the way of his extreme anticipation, "They are : One, you shall not leave with your signet ring--that I'm allowing you to leave without bringing you up on charges of representing yourself as a Guardsman; Two, you shall have your journals, when Leif Starchaser is quite finished with them. Until that time you shall remain at Duststand Citadel. We'll find a suitable place to station you within."
It looked as though Adams had a great many questions to ask, but Drakkhar had heard what he wanted, or figured he would in just a moment, but had a third demand to inform the broken man in front of him of, "You shall do as you must in Oasis. You'll be under no locks nor keys, no bonds shall hold you in captivity. However, you will not leave the city--your face will be common knowledge to the entire army, sentries and sentinels alike, and will be allowed leave if you so choose, but you must answer me and quite clearly: Why come back, why risk danger for journals you find no particular affinity for?"
"That demon---I know not its name, was known to be hiding in your Catacombs, hidden by the aide of spell to bind it there. I had no idea I could not banish it with the spell that was given me, only that it would release the bonds. It nearly killed me, " Adams sobbed.
"You are alive, the demon has fled; no harm has been done, A'Rann. You will, along with passing over your signet ring this very minute, write down the name of the spell and who had given it to you. As well as the incantation itself, as well."
"It may be only an alias--," Adams began to fret.
"I'm quite sure it is, but the spell will be accurate. It will not be spoken again, I only require these three things, and the time Leif needs to make proper notes of his own choosing before giving you back your journals and your freedom." Drakkhar passed over several sheaves of paper and pen to the old scribe, who took them cautiously.
Drakkhar drank from an even larger cup than he had given A'Rann Adams, and had thought the man's shaky hand would take quite some time and was surprised to hear the rapid scratching the pen made in its motions across the parchment, like the scratchings of small rodents across the stone at night when he tried eagerly to ease his mind and rest.
Before he could finish his drink, Lord Drakkhar had what he had asked for slid back to him across the stone table that separated he from Adams. On top of the three pages was the signet ring that would surely be reprogrammed and ready for a new recruit whenever one was inducted next in the White Guard. Below that, which was tossed into a pocket and sealed secure in the black and gray tunic Drakkhar wore, were three pages.
The top page on was writ only a name and a location to the west in a location that was not Sabhe, though from a smaller district, he was sure but in that same, forested region. The name he did not recognize.
The final two pages, each mostly full, with thin borders on both the sides and the top and bottom of the pages; he could only get a general idea about what the spell could and could not do and thought maybe that A'Rann Adams had fibbed whitely in knowing what it could or could not do. It would had to be decoded for him. He tucked the three pages then looked up, for he had heard the muted silence of a door closing at some point in reviewing Adams' work. He sighed wearily, finished his work, realized there were reasons for his fatigue, and set to have one more drink before calling it a night.