carefully. He had prepared for this extensively but there was no telling how the demon would react to his wording or how much the beast would answer. It was all a risk and nothing ever went as planned when you dealt with creatures and beasts from other planes of existence. “Has Malbeck the Dark One returned to Kraawn?”
“Yes and no,” replied the demon.
“Explain,” ordered Alerion.
“I answered the question, now proceed to question two.” The pit fiend spoke slowly, its deep and powerful voice reverberating off the stone walls around them.
“You did not answer the question,” replied Alerion. “And if you don’t finish the answer then I will give your true name to every powerful wizard in Kraawn and you will spend the next thousand years being summoned by wizards for their own petty desires. Now answer the question!” ordered the wizard, his powerful voice echoing in the chamber.
The demon’s beady eyes narrowed in anger and it looked as if it were about to attack again, but the fiery demon just flapped its wings in frustration and spoke with a thunderous voice. “When Malbeck was destroyed a thousand years ago only his physical body died. Weapons of steel could not permanently destroy Malbeck’s evil essence, which drifted through the Ru’Ach in limbo, between planes of existence until a powerful follower of his found a way to bring him back. So yes, he is back, but he is not the same as he was. His time within the Ru’Ach changed him, making him more powerful.”
Ixtofin stopped talking abruptly, staring at Alerion with open hatred. Suddenly Alerion’s mind flared with pain as the demon tried to assault him mentally. Alerion instantly brought up a barrier to ward off the attack and the pain in his head abated. He should have been more prepared for the demon’s attack. The beast always tested Alerion, trying to find a hole in his defenses, but Alerion was busy trying to process the new information and his mind had wandered. It would not happen again he thought.
“How did they bring him back?” Alerion asked, using up question two.
Ixtofin eyed him menacingly for several seconds before answering. “They found the Shan Cemar.”
The words hit Alerion like a hammer. “What!” Alerion yelled, momentarily losing control. “That cannot be,” he continued, quickly refocusing his attention on the demon. “The Shan Cemar has been hidden for thousands of years. Even the elves do not know its hiding place.”
“Not anymore,” the pit fiend hissed, taking pleasure in Alerion’s distress. “The Shan Cemar was found. The followers of the Dark One have been looking for it for a thousand years and their resolve has paid off.”
Alerion couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Shan Cemar was a book that held words of power written in the ancient elven tongue, the true language of magic. The book had been hidden thousands of years ago by the ancient elves and most people just thought of it as a legend, a tale told in taverns by traveling bards.
But Alerion knew that the Shan Cemar was real and that many adventurers and powerful wizards had been trying to find its location for many life times. He simply couldn’t believe it had been found. The power in the Shan Cemar was beyond Alerion’s imagination, and he knew that if Malbeck had the book in his possession then the good people of Kraawn were in serious danger.
“How do we kill the Dark One?” asked Alerion whose head was spinning with fear and unanswered questions.
The demon hissed as smoke and fire flared from his nose and mouth. “You must find the IshMian that has the blood of Finarth pulsing through his veins.”
The response was brief and to the point, which startled Alerion. Alerion wanted to ask the demon more but he knew that if he broke the rules that his magic would weaken, giving Ixtofin the chance to break through his defenses.
“You are released to return to your burning planes. Now be gone with you, Ixtofin.” Alerion read the last few lines of the spell and the Pit Fiend’s form began to dissolve slowly into mist again.
The last thing that Alerion heard was the rumbling laughter as the swirling mist disappeared into the floor. Immediately the braziers lit and flared to life again, shedding the flames orange light throughout the room. Alerion stood, closing his book.
“An IshMian,” he repeated out loud as he set his book down and strode out the door.
Nine
Annure
Jonas had thought that Finarth was a wonderous city, but