The Caverns of Kronos

The Palace - Part 3

     Being such a powerful wizard, Malefactos was capable of holding a great deal of magic in his body, enough to cast a great number of high level spells a day. One of the downsides of that, though, was that it took him a great many hours to refill himself with magic. Fortunately, Algol had thoughtfully equipped a side room with thaum mirrors. Coated with a substance that reflected the magic force the same way that a normal mirror reflected light, they collected the magic force that fell in other parts of the room and directed it towards a spot in the middle. Standing in that spot, therefore, Malefactos was bathed in much more or it than normal, allowing his undead body to refill itself in a fraction of the time it would normally have taken.

     Another downside of being such a powerful spellcaster was that, with so many spells in his spellbooks, it was common for several of them to change every day. A great deal of his time was taken up reading and memorizing the new versions, therefore. A living man who spent that long concentrating on any normal book, let alone a spellbook, would have had a splitting headache by the end of it, but one of the benefits of being undead was that he was beyond all the failings of a living body so that, when he finally finished, he was as clear headed as he’d been when he’d started. Perhaps failing to find the secret of immortality was a blessing in disguise, he thought with a wry smile.

     He used a few spells to make the improvements to the room he’d planned; the tapestries and the tiled floor. He nodded at them in satisfaction and then, as a last thought, he added an illusion to the windows looking out over the city. Anyone looking out would now see the scene he’d had from his bedchamber in his palace in the city of Darundra, capital of the Five Cities of the Tannaric plains which he’d ruled in his youth. It was a programmed illusion, so that anyone else looking through them would see the city dead and destroyed; covered in Shadow and inhabited only by the undead. They would see it and think that he shared their ambition for a whole world in that condition. Only when Malefactos himself looked through would it show the city as he’d known it. Alive with noise and bustling with thousands of cheerful, chattering people.

     He looked out through the window, savouring unfamiliar feelings of nostalgia, and then temporarily lowered the illusion to see the reality of Arnor. If they have their way, he thought, they’ll do the same to the whole world, including my five cities. The five cities that I laboured so long and so hard to make wealthy, powerful and prosperous. The illusion I made will become fact. It bothered him, and it annoyed him that it bothered him. I’m past all that, he thought angrily, and anyway, it doesn’t matter what the Shads do to them. They’ll all be destroyed in the Day of Fire anyway.

     He banished the thought from his mind and left the room, strolling down the corridor to explore. He hadn’t gone far, though, when he saw Algol ahead of him, coming in his direction. “Ah, so thou hast rested and renewed thyself already,” said the demon rak as they grew level. “Thee dost have the vigour of youth.”

     “I don’t have as many spells to memorise as you, my lord,” replied Malefactos, trying to conceal his hatred for the creature while he kept his voice as meek and subservient as possible.

     “That is true,” agreed Algol. “No matter how powerful we do become, we do never escape the necessity to read spells that have changed, and to absorb more magic into our bodies before we can cast them again. Enough small talk. I do have thy tasks for today, which thou wilt perform as well as thou didst do yesterday.”

     Malefactos ignored the compliment. “Before we begin,” he said, “I would be grateful if you could answer a question that’s been bothering me ever since I saw the Puncturium yesterday.”

     Algol glared in annoyance. “Thou art bold,” he said. “No other would dare to interrupt me so. What wouldst thou know?”

     “I would very much like to know the source of the Shadow,” said the younger rak. “I know now that it doesn’t come from the Puncturium, so where does it come from?” He saw the look on Algol’s face and added hastily, “Of course, if you don’t think I should know yet...”