mysterious assassination,” Maedoc replied.
Eamon sat back, looking to his knights for any ideas. When no one offered anything, he continued. “We must find out who this assassin is.”
“I do not think his or her identity is important,” Maedoc said. “It is best to leave the matter alone, I think. We have more pressing concerns.”
“Let the assassin do his job,” Galen offered. “Who cares who he or she is? They are doing us a great service by eliminating our enemies.”
“I suppose so,” Eamon said. “Still, I can’t help thinking that this assassin has more to do with this battle than the murder of Jindala nobles. Perhaps Traegus could shed some light.”
“Traegus is busy at the moment with other matters,” Maedoc said. “Strange things have been occurring in the north. The Rangers have reported a strange presence, and Farouk was asked to investigate.”
“What was this strange presence?” Eamon asked.
“Unknown,” Maedoc replied. “But I believe it may be connected with the banshee somehow. It’s the only explanation I can think of, as I feel nothing but a minor disturbance. The Druids are more attuned to this sort of thing. I am merely a diviner and seer.”
“Could Traegus find out more?” Eamon asked.
“Possibly, but as I said, he is busy with other things.”
“What sort of things?” Wrothgaar asked.
Maedoc grunted. “Strange things…”
“Pull!” Traegus shouted to the Druaga engineers. “You’re almost there.”
The tiny servants pulled on the ropes that suspended a large, flat, iron cage in a vat of glowing, pink water. As they pulled, the cage rose out and the Lich’s excitement grew. When the cage had cleared the top of the vat, Traegus pulled a lever that controlled the arm that suspended the rope. The arm swung away from the vat, taking the cage with it.
Within the cage was a young man’s body, naked and dripping. Traegus rushed over to it, examining the skin, the head, and the torso.
“All repaired and perfect,” he remarked, directing the cage over to a large wooden table.
“Lower it down, lads,” Traegus said, carefully guiding the cage to rest squarely in the center. “That’s it. Perfect.”
Traegus unfastened the latches on the sides of the cage. Then, he motioned for the Druaga to raise it. As they pulled, the cage rose and separated, leaving only the body on the table.
“Well done, friends,” he said. “Put the cage back and ready the static coils.”
The Druaga took care of the cage as Traegus inspected the body further. There were no signs of the injuries that had been there previously. Over the last year in the amniotic fluid, the corpse had healed and been restored to its youthful, vigorous state. There was no gash in the face, no nasty wound in the ribcage, and no sign that the body had been beheaded.
Eamon’s handiwork had been erased.
“Eogan,” Traegus spoke. “Your body will be my new vessel. With your youth, and my power, we will become the greatest wizard to ever walk the Earth.”
Traegus stood back, watching as the Druaga servants rolled the table underneath an elaborate contraption. It was an odd thing, composed of iron frames that held a heavy iron hoop that was placed above Eogan’s head. The hoop held twelve dagger-like crystals around its edge; the points of each facing a common center that was focused upon the young man’s forehead. Above the hoop, mirrors were placed in various places to catch radiation from an object that would be placed at the very peak of the strange contraption.
Traegus approached the machine, pulling from his robe a heart-sized red crystal encased in a beautiful hourglass frame; it was the phylactery that held his very soul.
“I thank you, my friends,” he said to the Druaga. “I thank you for building this machine. You have followed my instructions well.”
We thank you, Traegus, the Druaga scientist reiterated. Without your wisdom, these contraptions would not have been
Eamon sat back, looking to his knights for any ideas. When no one offered anything, he continued. “We must find out who this assassin is.”
“I do not think his or her identity is important,” Maedoc said. “It is best to leave the matter alone, I think. We have more pressing concerns.”
“Let the assassin do his job,” Galen offered. “Who cares who he or she is? They are doing us a great service by eliminating our enemies.”
“I suppose so,” Eamon said. “Still, I can’t help thinking that this assassin has more to do with this battle than the murder of Jindala nobles. Perhaps Traegus could shed some light.”
“Traegus is busy at the moment with other matters,” Maedoc said. “Strange things have been occurring in the north. The Rangers have reported a strange presence, and Farouk was asked to investigate.”
“What was this strange presence?” Eamon asked.
“Unknown,” Maedoc replied. “But I believe it may be connected with the banshee somehow. It’s the only explanation I can think of, as I feel nothing but a minor disturbance. The Druids are more attuned to this sort of thing. I am merely a diviner and seer.”
“Could Traegus find out more?” Eamon asked.
“Possibly, but as I said, he is busy with other things.”
“What sort of things?” Wrothgaar asked.
Maedoc grunted. “Strange things…”
“Pull!” Traegus shouted to the Druaga engineers. “You’re almost there.”
The tiny servants pulled on the ropes that suspended a large, flat, iron cage in a vat of glowing, pink water. As they pulled, the cage rose out and the Lich’s excitement grew. When the cage had cleared the top of the vat, Traegus pulled a lever that controlled the arm that suspended the rope. The arm swung away from the vat, taking the cage with it.
Within the cage was a young man’s body, naked and dripping. Traegus rushed over to it, examining the skin, the head, and the torso.
“All repaired and perfect,” he remarked, directing the cage over to a large wooden table.
“Lower it down, lads,” Traegus said, carefully guiding the cage to rest squarely in the center. “That’s it. Perfect.”
Traegus unfastened the latches on the sides of the cage. Then, he motioned for the Druaga to raise it. As they pulled, the cage rose and separated, leaving only the body on the table.
“Well done, friends,” he said. “Put the cage back and ready the static coils.”
The Druaga took care of the cage as Traegus inspected the body further. There were no signs of the injuries that had been there previously. Over the last year in the amniotic fluid, the corpse had healed and been restored to its youthful, vigorous state. There was no gash in the face, no nasty wound in the ribcage, and no sign that the body had been beheaded.
Eamon’s handiwork had been erased.
“Eogan,” Traegus spoke. “Your body will be my new vessel. With your youth, and my power, we will become the greatest wizard to ever walk the Earth.”
Traegus stood back, watching as the Druaga servants rolled the table underneath an elaborate contraption. It was an odd thing, composed of iron frames that held a heavy iron hoop that was placed above Eogan’s head. The hoop held twelve dagger-like crystals around its edge; the points of each facing a common center that was focused upon the young man’s forehead. Above the hoop, mirrors were placed in various places to catch radiation from an object that would be placed at the very peak of the strange contraption.
Traegus approached the machine, pulling from his robe a heart-sized red crystal encased in a beautiful hourglass frame; it was the phylactery that held his very soul.
“I thank you, my friends,” he said to the Druaga. “I thank you for building this machine. You have followed my instructions well.”
We thank you, Traegus, the Druaga scientist reiterated. Without your wisdom, these contraptions would not have been
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