Ways of Power 1: Power Rises (15 page)

24

              The wooden stairs creaked and groaned with Rancoth's decent. He could feel the temperature drop several degrees as he entered the underground chamber. Other than the light provided by his lamp, it was completely dark. The air was dank and musty, the walls were made of the same mortared stone as the outside of the house, and the floor was nothing more than well packed dirt.

              There were a few cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and Rancoth cleared them from his path with his arm. The room was lined with shelves, and in the middle of the floor there were a few casks of old wine set on racks in two rows. Rancoth slowly walked among the shelves, searching for anyplace his mother might have tucked away the Elfkin necklace.

              The shelves were filled with moldy cheeses, stale breads that crumbled to dust at his touch, and dried-out fruit long past being rotten. Set between the two rows of wine were a couple of topless barrels, the contents of which could no longer be ascertained. As Rancoth came around the corner to peer down the wing on the other side of the house, he spotted two large wooden chests.

              The chests were banded in iron, and both were locked tight. Rancoth kneeled down next to them, setting his lamp on the ground. He unsheathed his knife and pried at one of the chests to no avail. He then switched to the other, hoping perhaps it was not as secure.

For all of his efforts, his only reward was a blunted blade with a snapped off tip. He tried to move the chests, but only managed to push one an inch or so. Rancoth sighed and returned to the main floor.

              Dorbin was still sitting in the same chair and looking in the same direction as he had when Rancoth went down into the cellar. Rancoth blew out the wick, and watched the small wisp of smoke swirling and twirling through the air like a snake tying itself in knots. He then sat next to Dorbin and stared out the window with him.

              "Find anything?" Dorbin asked, not bothering to look at the young man.

              "No, not really. There were a couple of big locked chests, but I couldn't get them open. I ended up breaking the tip off my knife when I tried." Rancoth said rubbing his forehead.

              "Hmm, that's too bad. Let me see it."

              Rancoth pulled the blade out and handed it to the little man. Dorbin looked it over closely, almost lovingly Rancoth thought. Dorbin used his thumb to check the one edge, and the broken tip.

              "I'll fix it forr you when we get home. And you need to do a betterr job o' sharrpening it," Dorbin said handing the blade back to him.

              Rancoth simply nodded, and re-sheathed the blade. "I wish I knew where the keys were to those chests. They would be a good place to keep a sacred artifact safe."

              Dorbin merely grunted, lost in his own thoughts.

              Rancoth sighed and stood up from the table. "Well, shall we move on to the rest of the house?"

              Dorbin continued to sit in silence for a moment. "I'm sorrry Rran, I owe you an explanation forr that."

              Rancoth sat back down, "Explanation for what?" he asked looking at Dorbin expectantly.

              Dorbin turned to look at him and his eyes seemed to only partial focus on him. He was still seeing something from another place, or time. Rancoth wasn't sure which.

Dorbin then shook his head slowly. "Forr why I couldn't go down with you. But, not now--Perrhaps on the trrip home." Dorbin then stood, and stuck his hands in his pants pockets, "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed, pulling out the two keys he found in the main room of the house. He held them out to Rancoth and asked, "Do you think that these go to the chests downstairrs?"

              Rancoth smiled. He had forgotten that Dorbin had mentioned finding a couple of keys. One was silver with a circular bow at the base of its shank, the other was golden with a squared bow and one of the most intricately carved wards Rancoth had ever seen. "It's worth a shot--you coming down this time?"

              Dorbin sighed. "If you wish, but I would prreferr not. I'm sorrry."

              "No, no. It's all right; we all have our--issues.  But, I do look forward to that explanation. Be back up in a minute," Rancoth said.

Rancoth walked back into the kitchen, stopping at the counter to relight the oil lamp before heading back down to the cellar.

              Rancoth decided that the silver key with the round base must unlock the chest that had a rounded lock. He stuck the key in and turned it to the right and smiled when he heard the lock click. He opened the lid, its hinges creaking loudly with rust and years of neglect.

Rancoth's mouth dropped open, his pale glowing green eyes bulging at what he saw. The chest was full of silver coins, glittering in the lamplight, like so many stars in the sky.

              He scooped out a handful of coins and dropped a few back into the chest, listening to the musical tinkle that they made. He slipped the remainder into his coin purse, confident that his father wouldn't mind. Rancoth closed the lid and relocked the chest.

              Then he turned to the other one and unlocked it with the golden key. When he tried to open the lid, he found that it was still stuck. "Just great," Rancoth said in frustration. After studying the chest more closely, he found that the hinges in the back had completely rusted.

              Not to be daunted, Rancoth regained his feet, leaving the lamp on the floor he hurried upstairs. He jogged through the kitchen, and past Dorbin who was still sitting at the table.

              "Find anything?" Dorbin shouted after him.

              "Oh yeah I did," Rancoth called back over his shoulder, making his way into the main room.

              "What?" Dorbin asked.

              "Tell you in a minute," Rancoth responded. He picked up his walking stick that he had left by the front door and started back, almost running into Dorbin on the way.

              Dorbin looked at him quizzically. "What do you need that forr?" he asked.

              Rancoth winked as he slipped past the older man. "Rust!" he exclaimed.

              "Rrust what do you mean rrust?" Dorbin demanded, following Rancoth into the kitchen.

              Rancoth stopped at the top of the cellar stairs and looked at Dorbin, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, you can wait here until I come back up. Or you can come see for yourself." With that Rancoth jogged back down the stairs, and headed to the chests.

              Once there he began to whack at the rusted hinges with the end of his stick, hoping to knock enough of the corroded iron off to allow the lid to open.

              "Well!?" Dorbin demanded, as Rancoth approached the bottom of the stairs. "Did you find the necklace?"

              Rancoth climbed the stairs. "No, but those two chests are pretty big. You could easily fit in either one of them."

              "Yeah, so?"

              "So--one was filled with silver coins, and the other was full of gold ones!" Rancoth reached into his robe and pulled out his bulging coin purse. He opened it and showed the little man. Several of the coins had Grecrum's face, but most were imprinted with the visage of other past Arch Mages. Rancoth's parents must have been saving and adding to the fortune for many years.

              "Well lad it looks like you'rre rrich!" Dorbin exclaimed. An excited lustful look filled his eyes. "Don't lose those keys." he added.

              Rancoth laughed briefly. "Oh no, I took a few of each kind, but that is my father's money."

              "Only if he everr decides to come and claim it," Dorbin said with a wink.

              Rancoth grinned. "I suppose, but I’ll be reminding him that it's here at any rate."

              Dorbin nodded. "Well--on to the next rroom?"

              "Of course, we can't finish until were done. True?" Rancoth placed the leather pouch back into the folds of his robe.  After Rancoth put his walking stick back by the front door, Dorbin approached the closed door leading into the left wing of the house. It was unlocked, and swung in with surprising quiet; Dorbin looked into the room from the door jam, as Rancoth approached from behind.

              "It's my old playroom," he said with a grin.

              Dorbin grunted, and walked into the room, careful not to step on or break any of the toys that were still strewn about the floor. The playroom was small, nothing more than a closet under the stairs, with a slightly cracked open door that led to the next room. On the floor against the back wall was an old wooden toy box, the top of which was set ajar. The head of a stuffed dragon was sticking out of it, with a wide toothy grin.

              "I serriously doubt yourr motherr would have left it in herre forr you to brreak as a child." Dorbin said moveing on to the next room.

Rancoth however stooped down, and picked up several of his old toys, examining them closely. Each one brought back a memory, each one represented a childhood he had lost and could never reclaim. One toy in particular caught his eye. Rancoth picked it up, and carried it with him as he followed Dorbin into the next room.

              "What's that?" Dorbin asked, when he noticed Rancoth had joined him.

              "It's a doll, a very special doll. It was my mother's when she was a child, and she gave it to me on my sixth birthday. It's supposed to be my great great great grandfather or something like that. His name was—-hmm--I can't remember. My mother said that he had been Arch Mage a very long time ago, and that he was the one who actually planned out and started Tower City. But he died before ever seeing it finished."

              Dorbin nodded and looked at the figure a little more closely. It was a stuffed leather doll, which was crudely made to resemble a male Magi. The spun thread hair, and beard were white, and it was wearing a long teal colored robe, quite similar to one Rancoth loved so much. But Rancoth wasn't surprised to see that the part that most caught Dorbin's attention was the long staff the doll held.

It appeared to be actually made of a metal, but instead of being silver, gray, black or bronze it was instead a bright green color. The base, or queue, of the staff was shaped like a bird's head, probably an eagle, and flattened so that it would rest easily on the ground. The head of the weapon was a large perfect sphere, dull gray in color, and enclosed in a claw's sharp talons.

              Dorbin grunted his approval, and then looked back to the room they were in. "Now, this looks prromising. Why didn't you brring us herre firrst?" Dorbin asked.

              Rancoth shrugged, tucking the doll into a large empty pocket inside his robe. "I just thought we would start in the less obvious places first--I guess," he said with a nervous grin.

              "Hummm, hmm," Dorbin grumbled. "Well, I guess I'll starrt overr herre." Dorbin walked towards the far side of the room, where a large desk was positioned in front of several book shelves.

              The room was Rancoth's parents study. It was where they both did their reading, thinking, and work for Grecrum, and the various other people who sought them out. The center wall had a wide bay window with a red cushioned sill. The heavy red drapes were left open, letting in a lot of light and revealing a nice view of the pond in the front yard.

              Dorbin was already busying himself rummaging through Adroman's desk. It was a dark wooden thing, devoid of any decoration, save a few scattered papers on its top. Behind the desk, set Adroman's high backed black leather chair, which Dorbin had nonchalantly pushed aside. Rancoth turned to his mother's desk, positioned on the other side of the window from Adroman's.

              Carcella's desk was made from a light pine wood, and had several stylized flowers carved into the front panel and on its corners. The top of her desk was clean, and as Rancoth walked around it he sat on the noticed the small red cushioned stool. He ran his hands across the smooth top edge of the desk, and took a deep breath before reaching down to open the drawers.

              The desk was filled with various papers and notes. Rancoth glanced at a few, but couldn't take the time to give them the proper scrutiny that he would have under different circumstances. There was one drawer filled with nothing but different types of writing utensils. The very last drawer however did contain something of interest, though Rancoth had almost missed it at first. It wasn't until he was pushing the drawer back in that he felt something heavy roll forward.

25

              Pulling the drawer out again, Rancoth found what his mother called her thinking ball. He took it out, and stared at it with awe. It was heavy for its size; it wasn't really small, but fit comfortably in his hand.

It was a bluish gray color, and immediately under its glossy finish, the sphere's substance appeared to dance and swirl. It was like someone had managed to capture the spirit of smoke, and permanently imprison it within the circular shell. Rancoth couldn't help but think about his mother as he stared into the beautiful bauble. She said that it had been in their family for ages.

             
Rancoth was five years old, and sitting on the floor of his play room, pretending that his grandfather's doll was casting a spell to bring the dragon slain by his evil Hulden warrior doll back to life. He stopped playing when he heard foot falls on the stairs above him. Rancoth looked expectantly at the door leading to his parents book room, waiting to see which of them had woken up first.

              "Mommy!" he shouted, jumping up to greet her. "Good morning did you have good dreams?" he asked.

              "Of course I did!" she exclaimed, joy shining brightly in her glowing purple eyes. She sat down on the floor and took him in her arms, pulling him onto her lap. "I dreamt of you and Daddy."

That was her answer every morning, and it made Rancoth's little heart overflow with joy. "Can he take us to see the ocean babies today? Please, please, please!" Rancoth pleaded.

              Carcella laughed, and squeezed him tightly to her chest. "Oceans Children, their called the Oceans Children. And maybe, we'll ask him when he wakes up. Okay?"

              "All right." Rancoth relented staring down at his feet.

              "Now, what would you like for breakfast?" Carcella asked, resting her chin on top of his head.

              Rancoth squirmed for a minute, "Nothing, I'm not hungry yet--Do you want to play with me?" he asked excitedly.

              "Hmm, maybe in a little bit. I have some things I need to look at this morning; I think I'm close to an answer," she said.

              Rancoth sighed, but already knew that begging wouldn't get him anywhere. So instead he tried something else. "Answer to what, maybe I can help--I'm smart."

              Carcella giggled, and kissed him on top of his dirty blonde hair, "I know you're smart Ranny. But I really need to concentrate, and sometimes the way you help makes that difficult."

              Rancoth growled, and folded his hands in his armpits. "I can constipate!" he said defiantly.

              Carcella then burst into laughter, and kissed her son's head again before explaining, "Not constipate silly. Con-sen TRAIT," she said the word slowly. "It means to think really hard."

              Rancoth wasn't listening however, when his mother laughed at him, it made him even more upset. So he pulled away from her and went back to his toys. Ignoring her and resuming his play as if she had never entered the room. Carcella smiled and shook her head. She then got up, left the door open between the study and Rancoth's playing room, and sat at her desk.

              Rancoth hadn't really wanted his mother to go away, but she had hurt his feelings. As she sat at her desk, reading one of the many books that she loved so much, he couldn't help but watch her. After a while, she reached down and pulled out her swirly ball. Rancoth's breath caught, as he stared with his mouth open.

He loved seeing that magical ball. His mother would never let him touch it; she said it helped her think and was too valuable. It was the only one of its kind she explained, and it had been in her family since the beginning of time. She promised that someday, it would be his, but until that time he had to keep his fingers off.

              Rancoth slowly crawled closer to the door of his play room, as he watched his mother. She rolled the ball back and forth between her hands, as she stood up from her desk and sat on the large windowsill. She continued to fiddle with the object as she stared outside, lost in her thoughts. After quite some time, Rancoth heard his father calling from upstairs.

              Carcella sighed, "I'll be right there my love!" She shouted back and rested the sphere against her forehead. Rancoth imagined it was cool to the touch.

Carcella then laid the pretty ball down on the red sill cushion, and went up the stairs. Winking at her son as she passed and whispering. "We need to get daddy some new robes, his don't fit right anymore."

              Rancoth giggled at his mother, but as soon as she was out of sight he turned his attention back to the abandoned object she left. He slowly crept forward on hands and knees, careful not to make any sound as he moved into his parents work room. Once at the sill Rancoth peeked up over the edge at the prized forbidden thing. His breath fast in his chest, and heart pounding. He then looked over his shoulder, at the stairs, to make sure his mother wasn't coming back.

              Convinced he was safe he slowly stood up, and reached for the ball he so longed to hold. Just as his fingers were a hair away from victory, the unthinkable happened.

              "RANCOTH--NO!" His mother shouted. Caught up in the excitement of the moment, he hadn't heard her come back down the stairs. He recoiled his hand and ran as fast as he could back into his play room. He jumped into his toy box, pulling the lid shut over him.

              Rancoth was surprised when he looked up from his mother's ball to see Dorbin standing close by looking intently at the swirling object. He hadn't noticed when the little man finished his search of Adroman's desk, and come to stand silently next him.

              "Sorry, Dorbin I was lost in thought again. I didn't see you there," Rancoth said apologetically. "Dorbin--Dorbin, are you all right?"

              "What…" Dorbin blinked and shook his head. "What is that?"

              Rancoth was all too familiar with the orb’s tantalizing nature. "It was my mother’s. Quite unique, isn't it? I mean, have you ever seen anything like it before?"

              "Hmmm--I, ahh--that is to say--ah--no I haven't," Dorbin responded, eyes still glued to the maelstrom beneath the orb's surface.

              Rancoth grinned. "My mother wouldn't ever let me touch it when I was younger. That's what I was thinking about when I noticed you. The one time I almost did, my fingers were a mere breath away from gliding across its surface. But, then my mother came back into the room, and I ran away. I always thought it would be cool to the touch, but it's actually quite warm. Here touch it." Rancoth held the ball out to the little man.

              Dorbin shook his head vigorously. "Ohhh no--that's all rright," he said taking a step back.

              Rancoth shrugged. "I think I'll keep it." He stood and walked out of the room. Back at the house's main entry door, he wrapped the orb up in his orange robe and tucked it safely in his travel pack.

              He returned to the study room to find Dorbin staring out the big window, hands clasped behind his back. "Well, the necklace wasn't in my mother's desk. I really thought it might have been there. I don't suppose you found it in my father’s desk, did you?"

              Dorbin shook his head. "No."

              "Well, upstairs then," Rancoth said. As he started the ascent he added, "These lead directly into my parents’ bedchamber. It’s the second most likely place my mother would have kept the necklace."

              Dorbin stared out the window for a few more heartbeats before following him up to the next level of the home.