tell you. But the most disturbing thing is that they are sentient beings, not just objects that the enemy carries around in a box. They walk among us like demons. But they are not demons. They simply are—and aren’t...”
“I do not understand,” Wrothgaar said, scratching his head. “How can they be and not be?”
“I understand your confusion. But it’s the only way I can explain it. They seem to exist in this dimension and their own dimension simultaneously. Their own reality and ours, so to speak. They have not fully entered our world as the greater being has done, but are somehow stuck between worlds. They use this bridge to feed upon the energy of this world, that they may grow stronger in their own. And if they succeed in gathering enough life force in this world, they may be able to cross over fully. Such a being would upset the balance greatly, as the Lifegiver has done. A creature from a negative universe existing in our own universe…well, you can imagine the consequences. Very disturbing, indeed.”
Eamon quietly sipped his tea, feeling the burden on himself and his friend grow heavy. He wondered if they would be able to fight the creatures, even with the Dragon’s help. It would be a difficult and dangerous task, but for the sake of the kingdom, and possibly the entire world, they must succeed, or die trying.
“Come,” Jodocus said, rising. “We will go to my chambers. I have a few things that may be of great value in this struggle.
The door the three entered opened into a stairwell that led down underground to another door. Through the second door, a cobblestone-lined hallway led into the darkness. Though dark and dusty, the hallway was dry and not at all unpleasant.
“This hall leads to my tower,” Jodocus said. “It’s hidden from view, obviously, and the hall is the only way into it.”
“Ingenious,” Eamon stated. Wrothgaar nodded in agreement.
“Do not worry about your horses,” Jodocus assured them. “They’ll be fine. My forest is guarded by the spirits of the trees. They will protect them and keep them from wandering off.”
Eamon had completely forgotten about them, but Wrothgaar seemed unconcerned. Then again, he didn’t care for horses to begin with, so his indifference was not surprising.
Jodocus lit the way with his staff, which glowed brightly at the tip with a greenish light, revealing intricate runes carved into the stones. There were runes of unknown origin, pictograms, and many other glyphs written in long dead languages.
“I see you’ve noticed the writings on the wall,” Jodocus said. “They were carved by the Priests of Drakkar many thousands of years ago when this tower was built. It was originally inhabited by the lich, Traegus, a powerful human sage who used his magic to bring himself back from the dead. Smelly fellow, as you could well imagine, but rather pleasant to talk to.”
“I’m not sure what a lich is,” Wrothgaar stated.
“An undead Priest or wizard,” Jodocus answered. “Some of them are so devoted to their craft, and the pursuit of knowledge, that they refuse to allow themselves to pass away. They stay alive, despite the fact that their bodies are dead.”
“Ah,” Wrothgaar said. “Interesting, and repulsive at the same time.”
Jodocus laughed. “Indeed, my friend. Indeed. They are one small group of individuals that seem to always upset the balance. Burns me, it does. When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. They just refuse to accept that.”
“And what of you?” Wrothgaar asked. “Why have you refused to let death take you?”
“I haven’t!” Jodocus snapped in mock anger. “I just haven’t died yet. But I will. Someday. I have been here for as long as men have walked the Earth. Even longer. But when my time comes, I will happily let myself cross over. I look forward to returning to the Earth.”
The group reached the end of the hall where there stood a heavy oaken door. It was adorned
“I do not understand,” Wrothgaar said, scratching his head. “How can they be and not be?”
“I understand your confusion. But it’s the only way I can explain it. They seem to exist in this dimension and their own dimension simultaneously. Their own reality and ours, so to speak. They have not fully entered our world as the greater being has done, but are somehow stuck between worlds. They use this bridge to feed upon the energy of this world, that they may grow stronger in their own. And if they succeed in gathering enough life force in this world, they may be able to cross over fully. Such a being would upset the balance greatly, as the Lifegiver has done. A creature from a negative universe existing in our own universe…well, you can imagine the consequences. Very disturbing, indeed.”
Eamon quietly sipped his tea, feeling the burden on himself and his friend grow heavy. He wondered if they would be able to fight the creatures, even with the Dragon’s help. It would be a difficult and dangerous task, but for the sake of the kingdom, and possibly the entire world, they must succeed, or die trying.
“Come,” Jodocus said, rising. “We will go to my chambers. I have a few things that may be of great value in this struggle.
The door the three entered opened into a stairwell that led down underground to another door. Through the second door, a cobblestone-lined hallway led into the darkness. Though dark and dusty, the hallway was dry and not at all unpleasant.
“This hall leads to my tower,” Jodocus said. “It’s hidden from view, obviously, and the hall is the only way into it.”
“Ingenious,” Eamon stated. Wrothgaar nodded in agreement.
“Do not worry about your horses,” Jodocus assured them. “They’ll be fine. My forest is guarded by the spirits of the trees. They will protect them and keep them from wandering off.”
Eamon had completely forgotten about them, but Wrothgaar seemed unconcerned. Then again, he didn’t care for horses to begin with, so his indifference was not surprising.
Jodocus lit the way with his staff, which glowed brightly at the tip with a greenish light, revealing intricate runes carved into the stones. There were runes of unknown origin, pictograms, and many other glyphs written in long dead languages.
“I see you’ve noticed the writings on the wall,” Jodocus said. “They were carved by the Priests of Drakkar many thousands of years ago when this tower was built. It was originally inhabited by the lich, Traegus, a powerful human sage who used his magic to bring himself back from the dead. Smelly fellow, as you could well imagine, but rather pleasant to talk to.”
“I’m not sure what a lich is,” Wrothgaar stated.
“An undead Priest or wizard,” Jodocus answered. “Some of them are so devoted to their craft, and the pursuit of knowledge, that they refuse to allow themselves to pass away. They stay alive, despite the fact that their bodies are dead.”
“Ah,” Wrothgaar said. “Interesting, and repulsive at the same time.”
Jodocus laughed. “Indeed, my friend. Indeed. They are one small group of individuals that seem to always upset the balance. Burns me, it does. When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. They just refuse to accept that.”
“And what of you?” Wrothgaar asked. “Why have you refused to let death take you?”
“I haven’t!” Jodocus snapped in mock anger. “I just haven’t died yet. But I will. Someday. I have been here for as long as men have walked the Earth. Even longer. But when my time comes, I will happily let myself cross over. I look forward to returning to the Earth.”
The group reached the end of the hall where there stood a heavy oaken door. It was adorned
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