A small hut lay hidden beneath overgrown trees, brush, and green vines that had woven around the windows and entrances blocking out most of the light. The high canyon walls obscured everything from the outside world. Anyone foolish enough to slash through the brush would find not a trace a life, other than a few mysterious hoof prints or bird song.
Legends spoke of a tomb housing a fallen mage, keeping him locked into an eternal agony. Not dead, and not alive, only frozen into an eternity of suffering.
Salamin opened one eye, and through the circular hut window, he saw a tree branch waving in the wind. And something else. Smoke. He breathed it into his lungs. Something was on fire. Something had changed, a small flicker in the endless night and days he’d endured, alone and immobile.
Footfalls outside snapped Salamin back to his senses. The curse kept anyone from finding him. How could there be anyone nearby? It was impossible. He blinked and tried to clear his vision.
“Help!” a small voice called. “Please, help me!” Branches cracked under the footsteps, and Salamin heard whelps of pain as the intruder fell into a trap.
The spell was absolute. If someone had made it this far, they would soon give up. Barriers both magical and practical were erected with a methodical precision.
After a moment, the footfalls continued, this time more cautiously.
Someone was coming. It was impossible really. Salamin had long ago accepted his fate. He’d been defeated, and only by some miracle had he remained alive. Burned, paralyzed and by some magic he didn’t understand, still alive.
Salamin tensed as the stranger rattled the hut door. The old timbers were held together only by the powerful magic strung together what had to be a century ago. Time had passed. How much, Salamin didn’t know.
“Hello?” the voice called again. “Anyone in there?”
The door slowly opened, and Salamin saw the first human he’d seen in many, many turns. The bright light burned his eyes. Shock did not allow his mind to comprehend this. It had to be another dream.
Squinting, he saw a boy. Long black hair swept down to his shoulders, a soft face and body that betrayed the youngsters inclination for the easy life. The boy’s eyes took in Salamin and he shuddered, looking away.
Salamin could only imagine what horror he saw in the burned skin, and skeletal features of what he once had been.
The boy cleared his throat. “The legend brought me here. The Legend of the Fallen? My grandmother.” He paused, looking back at the smoke. “They said she was crazy, but I knew it was real. Please, we don’t have much time.”
It had been so long since Salamin had heard the Argonian tongue. He relished the flow, and the familiar rises and falls, like waves crashing into the sand. He also knew that if the boy had somehow managed to break the curse, they would both perish in a matter of moments.
The boy took a necklace out from under his tunic and held up a glowing blue orb up for him to see.
Salamin let out a gasp. He looked into the depths of the small orb and saw the ever changing lines of power, white static charges in intricate ever moving patterns. The orb was a thing of legends. How had this child gotten it? “You fool,” Salamin croaked through dry lips. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s true,” the boy said, swinging the orb on the chain and gazing at him in wonder. “It’s all true.”
In the light, Salamin could see auburn eyes gazing back at him, like leaves in the fall, almost translucent. They reminded him of someone. The absolute betrayal of the curse shuddered through him.
“Who are your kin?” Salamin rasped. He was losing his voice, and the words were barely there. The smoke was growing stronger, and his eyes burned, and watered.
“I’m from the house of Draken,” the boy said, gazing out the window. “Please, they’re coming. They want the necklace.” He tucked it back in and stepped closer to Salamin.
The boy smelled of fear and sweat. “My half-brothers. They betrayed my father and they’re bending the knee to Haldar.”
Haldar. A deep anger burned in Salamin’s gut. The name that haunted his dreams, and the one moment that had taken his life. The one who defeated him and left him for dead. How could he be alive after all these years?
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Horse hooves beat against the path outside. They were coming, no doubt following the foolish boy. Squinting his eyes, Salamin gazed through his inner site. His access was rusty but it came to his mind in blurry lines.
Sedwick Draken ? Moonpath Tier 2 ? Class Healer
Health 80/100 ? Intelligence 10/100 ? Power 2/100 ? Stamina 20/100
Abilities: Lunapassus (Minor Healing Spell)
A moonpath, Salamin scoffed. Moonpath was the most pitiful, weak path of them all, the dying goddess. Beyond pitiful.
As if sensing his disdain, Sedwick shook his head. “My grandmother was moonpath,” he said, raising his chin. “I tried to heal my father.” His words trailed off into silence as a horse whinnied. “Please.”
Such misplaced trust in a legend, Salamin thought, watching the boy. He must have reached seventeen turns if he could place an oath. The boy looked much younger than that.
Closing his eyes, the boy reached for his power. Salamin could feel it crackle in the air, so faint and subtle.
Salamin flinched when the boy placed a hand on his arm. It was more bone than arm now, charred and black and useless.
“Luna, luna passus,” the boy intoned.
You fool, Salamin wanted to say, but instead a familiar cool energy swirled into him, like the gentle waters of a stream. The constant pain he’d endured for centuries began to ease. This is a descendant of Cion, he thought. The one he loved, the one who betrayed him. He felt a sting in his eyes and squeezed them shut.
“He’s over here” a voice shouted from inside. “The boy’s tracks end here.”
Outside, Salamin could sense the power. The Mages had arrived. He knew this time would come. The day Haldar finally put him out of his misery. “How did you?” Salamin rasped to the boy.
“The legend,” Sedwick whispered. “I know who you are. Please, keep the necklace safe.”
Salamin wished he could say yes that all would be okay. That he could defeat the men outside. He’d been defeated long ago, his life hanging by a thread suspended and cursed for all time. “I can’t. You need to run. Run!” He wasn’t sure if the boy could hear his faint rasps.
The boy looked at him, eyes widening. In that moment, Salamin could see the knowledge hit him. In a few moments, they would both die, and the necklace would be in the hands of Haldar.
“There’s nothing?” the boy stammered.
Outside, two men dismounted their horses and followed the newly visible trail to the hut. Whatever protections had surrounded him, were now gone.
“Haldar has won,” Salamin said, but his voice no longer worked, it was only air, and the beating on the door.
The flimsy door was easily broken, as the two mages burst through the door breaking the thin wood into shards. Black robes swept over the threshold, hoods obscuring their features.
“Sedwick Draken, you’re under arrest by the authority of Argor,” the mage intoned. “You are now under the custody of the Order.” He motioned to the younger mage beside him. “Felep get the necklace.”
The boy backed away out of site. There was nowhere to run. Slowly, the young mage followed, and Salamin could hear a scuffle behind him, and winced when a body crashed to the floor.
“And who or what is this?” The mage ignored the scuffle and knelt down and peered into Salamin’s eyes.
Salamin put up his defenses, but it had been so long, his body was so wracked that it was difficult to do. “Tanas,” the younger mage said, coming to his side “Could this could be Salamin Ator?”
“Impossible,” the other mage said, and pulled down his hood. His skin was pale, and eyes black, hair short in the style of the Order. A pale hand reached out for Salamin and grasped his wrist. His eyes looked up “There is no way The Fallen One could still be alive.”
“He has the scar, you know, from the legends.”
Salamin regarded the two, and guessed the mage was possibly at level 30, the younger surprisingly had more power than that. Both voidpath, but the energy emanating from them was different, heavier than he was used to. If only he could move, and access the void, he could be rid of them.
“Not all legends are true,” Tanas chided. “Haldar has reached the highest ranks, and Salamin was not as powerful.”
The young mage swallowed. “Should we get this close?”
The Master laughed and poked at the burned flesh. “We’ll put this miserable bastard out of his misery soon enough.” But as his finger poked Salamin’s flesh, a burst of energy flowed through them both, sending Tanas crashing back against the hut wall.
A lifetime of controlling his emotions had led to this moment. That discipline allowed him to channel the void energy even now.
Tanas broke into a grin as he got up from the wood floor, and dusted off his robe. He cast a protective spell and gripped Salamin’s neck with one hand. “Who are you?”
Salamin stared back defiantly.
The mage released his grip, and turned to his apprentice. “This will best be left to the Order. The Pit will get everyone’s tongue loose. Bring the boy closer. We’ll send them together.”
“Should we alert the Order?”
“No need. We will find out who he is first, no need to bother our brethren until we are sure. We will both be rewarded for this one.” He held the precious stone up to the light and smiled. Prepare the transmigration.”
Salamin’s eyes widened, even as he felt the surge of energy the young mage channeled. The Pit was reserved only for the most dangerous of enemies, and only then to extract information. No one could resist that ancient power.
Tanas bent over to peer into Salamin’s eyes again. “Oh, yes, you know of the Pit. Felep, prepare your staff.”
The younger mage nodded, concentrating, and raised his staff towards Salamin and the boy.
“Begin,” Tanas commanded, and both mages raised their staffs and began chanting. The energy crackled and swirled around Salamin, like an inescapable whirlwind. It poured into every orifice and limb. Salamin knew this spell anywhere.
The boy screamed behind him, but Salamin could only hear it for a brief moment before everything a blinding light struck him in the chest, and he was no more.
