“Master Lepkin, the Lievonian Order welcomes you. I trust the porter treated you well when you arrived?” Maxim asked.

“He did,” Lepkin replied with a nod. “Are the others coming?”

“The others will be here shortly. We will meet in the round hall.” Maxim bowed slightly and gestured for Lepkin to follow him, and then he spun on his heels and headed off, his long, white hair bouncing slightly with each step, mimicking his black cloak that seemed to swallow Maxim’s thin frame.

“Very good.” Master Lepkin followed Maxim through a narrow hall. Contrary to the custom of the day among other knightly orders, the castle of the Lievonian Order was not lavishly decorated. The walls were painted light brown, with the occasional sword or shield hanging on either side of the hall in memory of knights fallen. The floors were made of wood, worn smooth and dulled by constant foot traffic. Large windows faced the east and west, allowing for the sun to light the halls during the day, and oil lamps hung from the arched ceiling to illuminate the halls by night. Despite the simplicity of it, Lepkin had always admired this castle. Not only were the halls and rooms comfortable for him, but he found the knights to be equally as humble as their abode, which was refreshing to him.

The knights of the Lievonian Order, humble as they might be, were not to be underestimated, Lepkin knew. The seven knights of the order were among the finest warriors on any battlefield. Lepkin had ridden with them before, when hordes of the warlord Hurin had invaded from the eastern slopes of the Jaggathea Mountains. With three hundred spearmen and forty archers under their command, the Lievonian Knights won a ferocious victory over Hurin’s three thousand horsemen and footsoldiers. Their success had ensured that Hurin’s forces were utterly wiped out, and secured peace for the region. Until now.

“Please, Master Lepkin,” Maxim offered as he pulled on a brass ring hanging from a metal lion’s head on the large, oak door. “After you.”

“Thank you, Maxim,” Lepkin replied as he stepped through the doorway. The round hall was empty, save for the eight chairs, each sitting at one of the ends of the golden, eight-pointed star outlined with gold inlay on the floor. The star’s eighth point was elongated, to mimic the design of the North Star, and pointed toward the door Lepkin had passed through. This hall was the only place where gold was used in the entire castle, Lepkin knew. The inside of the star was filled with glass tiles that sparkled like diamonds under the ever burning oil lamp that dangled from the domed ceiling. The rest of the floor that surrounded the star was covered with a glossy, black paint that was renewed each month, at the time of the new moon, to keep it from dulling over time.

“You may sit at the bench until they call for you,” Maxim said in a reverent tone. Lepkin nodded his head and broke his gaze from the grand star in the floor to move to his place. A simple, wooden bench of cherry wood sat behind the chair at the star’s eighth point, just to the right of the door. As Lepkin sat on the bench, Maxim went and sat in the chair in front of him. They passed the time in silence as the seven knights filtered into the room and each took their places.

Each knight wore black pants, maroon tunics, with a golden emblem of a dragon above their breast, and a simple cape, black in color, draped over their shoulders. None of them said a word, or even acknowledged Lepkin or Maxim as they entered and quietly sat. Shortly after each knight was seated Maxim rose to his feet and walked to the center of the star. He slid his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe, as a monk might do, and kept his head slightly bowed as he addressed the knight that had sat in the chair at the star’s first point.

“Grand Master Penthal,” Maxim began. “It is my pleasure to present to you, and the other esteemed knights of the Lievonian Order, Master Lepkin, the Keeper of Secrets, Defender of the Realm, and Blade of the Ancients.” Maxim bowed deeply, almost touching his head to the floor, and looking as though he might topple over before coming back up.

“What business does Master Lepkin have with the Lievonian Order?” Grand Master Penthal asked.

“He has come on behalf of the king to ask us to renew our loyalty to the kingdom,” Maxim replied.

Lepkin sat silently, as protocol dictated, while Maxim addressed the Grand Master. This ceremonial initiation of meetings was the one thing about the Lievonian Order that bothered Lepkin. He felt they were a waste of time. He chuckled silently to himself then, thinking about the lecture he would get from Al over not wanting to wait through a five minute tradition before being allowed to speak. Thinking of the dwarf taking Erik to the temple gave Lepkin a sudden worry. He did not like being away from Erik, especially in light of recent developments, but Al was correct that this would be the most efficient use of time. Lepkin just hoped that he had chosen wisely. If anything happened to Erik, there would be no hope for the realm.

“I sense great urgency in Master Lepkin,” Grand Master Penthal said. The man rose to his feet and motioned for Maxim to sit back in his chair, foregoing the rest of the ceremony. “Under normal circumstances, I would not do this, but as I know very well the heart and mind of Master Lepkin, I will allow him to speak without going through the entire opening ceremony.”

Lepkin slowly rose to his feet and walked to the center of the star. He bowed his head to Grand Master Penthal and spoke. “Thank you, Grand Master Penthal. I do indeed have an urgent message, and time is the one luxury I do not have. As you may know, many orders are realigning within the kingdom. Some have sworn themselves to certain nobles, who claim to have a right to the throne when the king dies. Other orders have sworn allegiances to foreign powers, and many other orders have created armies of their own and aim to take control of the area they govern currently.”

“I have heard of this,” Grand Master Penthal said with a single nod. “Our loyalty has ever been, and will continue to be given to the king. We will protect the rightful ruler of the realm.”

“Here, here!” the other knights shouted as they knocked the arms of their chairs with their knuckles.

“I commend the Lievonian Order for its honor,” Lepkin said as the knocking died down. “I am afraid that the fracturing of our kingdom is not the worst threat to the people of the realm, however. The worst threat comes from other orders that aim to exploit our weakened state to gain power over all of us.”

“What orders do you speak of?” Grand Master Penthal asked.

“There are many smaller orders, of course, but I speak mainly of two orders. The first is an order of rogue wizards, known as the Wyrms of Khaltoun and the second is a small but powerful order of Shadowfiends. They call themselves the Black Fang Council.”

“Ah, the followers of Tu’luh,” Grand Master Penthal said. “Why would these wizards join forces with Shadowfiends?”

“The Wyrms of Khaltoun are necromancers,” Lepkin replied.

“Necromancers, I thought the kingdom was rid of those dark arts long ago? Isn’t that the whole point to having a Keeper of Secrets, appointed by the Ancients themselves? Your job, as was the job of every Keeper before you, is to ensure that there are no necromancers in the kingdom.”

“Yes, that is part of my job, but there is more to it than that,” Lepkin replied evenly. “The Lievonian Order assisted the first Keeper put down the necromancers that threatened the kingdom, over three centuries ago. I ask you now, to honor your pledge of loyalty to the king by swearing yourselves to me in the fight that is to come with the Wyrms of Khaltoun.”

“You ask that which is already yours,” Grand Master Penthal said, rising to his feet. “As the Grand Master of the Lievonian Order, I pledge my sword and my life to the Keeper of Secrets.”

The knight on Grand Master Penthal’s right rose from his chair, adding his pledge to Master Lepkin. One by one, each of the seven knights swore their swords to him. When they had finished, Lepkin nodded and asked them to sit down.

“The Wyrms of Khaltoun are a different order of necromancers,” Lepkin began. He hesitated for a moment, guessing whether the knights were ready to hear the words that were to come out of his mouth. He looked around, meeting each pair of expecting eyes in turn and trying to read their faces. He needed help, and he knew that this order of knights was the most honorable in the realm, but if any of them proved to be false companions, it would spell disaster. He swallowed hard. His mouth turned dry. At last, he decided to tell them. “The Wyrms of Khaltoun are descendants of the authors of Nagar’s Secret.”

No one moved. The only sound louder than Lepkin’s beating heart was the quickened breathing of the knights. Lepkin could tell by their stunned reactions that they knew what this meant.

“I thought that they were wiped out long ago?” Maxim asked.

“It was believed to be so,” Lepkin said with a nod.

“How do you know for certain that it is them?” Grand Master Penthal asked.

“Lady Dimwater dealt with a Shadowfiend recently that had been in the process of preparing a town for harvest by the Wyrms of Khaltoun. The demon’s name was Be’alt the Black. We were lucky that a few of the townsfolk had escaped and alerted the Wizards Council. Be’alt the Black had the town so bewitched that they were practicing human sacrifice. These sacrifices fed his power, and helped him gain even more control over the region. If Lady Dimwater had not stopped him, he could very possibly have taken over the whole island of Kelboa in a matter of months. It would have been a perfect staging area for the Wyrms of Khaltoun. From that island they could have infiltrated the kingdom slowly, all the while prodding around for the book.”

“So,” Grand Master Penthal said as the shock left. “They have finally come.” The large man closed his eyes and cupped his forehead in his hands. “Gods be merciful.”

*****

The dense forest rose above Erik and Al on both sides of the dirt road. Dry leaves skitted across the ground as a breeze blew through the trees. Branches and vines swung lazily, carrying the fresh aroma of the forest after a night’s rain. The road wound its way through the forest like a brown, slinking serpent. The horses clipped along at a steady trot, as they had for most of the journey, except for mealtimes.

Erik looked to his companion, the dwarf, and watched him bob up and down on his horse. Erik had always thought that dwarves rode ponies because of their short legs, but Al proved to be quite the horseman despite his short stature. When Erik had asked once if all dwarves could ride horses, Al had just laughed and muttered something about tall folk that he couldn’t quite hear.

Al turned and caught Erik looking at him. “What?” he gruffed.

Erik felt awkward, so he made up a question to escape the dwarf’s searing gaze. “When will Master Lepkin catch up with us?” Erik asked.

“As soon as he is able,” Al replied. Pots and pans clanked together as the pack horse he led trotted behind them. The dwarf was not fond of missing meals, so he made sure to pack all he could possibly need for each trip. Erik had expected Master Lepkin to make Al leave the pack horse and travel lighter, but he had only rolled his eyes and laughed.

In some ways, Al was a lot like Master Lepkin, Erik thought. The dwarf was prone to answer questions with one or two words, a sentence if he had to, and a single nod without words if he could get away with it. He was just as rigid about Erik’s training too. Over the last day and a half of riding, Al had made Erik train with his waster at each meal before being allowed to eat. It was difficult to fight the dwarf. His short stature rendered many of Erik’s techniques useless. Erik could still feel every place on his body that the dwarf’s hammer had hit during the training sessions. With each strike of the hammer Erik would protest that Al was too rough. Al would just laugh and tell Erik not to get hit. Then, if that wasn’t enough, Al would insist that he was being as gentle as a dwarf knew how.

“Al, have you and Master Lepkin known each other for a long time?” Erik asked. Al grunted and nodded his head, but he kept his eyes to the road. Erik sighed. He felt mixed feelings about everything around him. Lady Dimwater said that he would play a vital part in protecting the kingdom, but wouldn’t tell him how. If he asked Master Lepkin, he would just say that he would explain it all “soon”. And if he asked Al, well he got even less out of the dwarf than from Master Lepkin. His curiosity had long since given way to frustration. He felt powerless to help his adopted father, and stuck in a fight that wasn’t of his choosing. He wanted answers.

The two of them rode for two more hours before they came to a great, rolling hill and the forest thinned. As they came over the top of the hill Erik saw a great citadel wall surrounding a red pagoda tower. The sight was enough to take Erik’s breath away. Great, thick walls of white stone rose up topped with battlements enclosed by a green tile roof. At each corner a square tower rose up from the ground, half again as tall as the wall, with red and gold flags flying over them. Despite Erik’s distance from the building, he could see that each corner of the pagoda style roof on each tower was fashioned into the head of a dragon. He looked beyond the wall to the tower in the center. Erik estimated that it must be at least seventy feet tall. It was the most magnificent structure he had ever seen before.

“That, is Valtuu Temple,” Al said, pointing with his hammer. “This is where we will wait for Master Lepkin. In the meantime, you have some studying to do.” Al prodded his horse gently and waved for Erik to follow.

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Erik tapped Goliath’s sides and the mammoth horse lurched forward. He never took his eyes from the building. As they came closer he could see more detail built into the walls and the tower. The outside walls were not plain white, as he had thought. The closer he came the more he could see that the stones used were yellow, white, gray, and even a few darker stones. At first it seemed as though they were placed at random, but Erik soon realized that they were placed in a weaving pattern. It reminded him of a cream colored snake he had seen once. The effect of the sunlight reflecting off the wall was dazzling, almost blinding in fact. The large green double doors matched the color of the tile roof above, but it was not made of wood as Erik had thought. It was made of some kind of metal, though Erik didn’t know what. It wasn’t copper, he knew that. The green was too dark, and seemed to be natural, instead of brought on by age as happens with copper. The doors were studded with round protrusions. They weren’t spikes, but they weren’t like anything Erik had seen before. They looked almost like the round tops of black helmets.

“Stop here,” Al instructed, yanking Erik from his thoughts. The dwarf tossed the guide rope to Erik for the pack horse and slowly prodded his horse closer to the gate. “Guardians of the Valtuu Temple, I am Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, brother to Threntonsirai Sit’marihu, the King of Roegudok Hall. I have brought this boy by command of Master Lepkin, the Keeper of Secrets. I am here to teach him of the Ancients, and to prepare him for his duties.”

Erik looked up to the battlements on the walls, but he saw no one. He looked to the towers, but again he saw nothing. He wondered if maybe all of the people were inside eating, or if something had happened to them. There was silence for a long time after Al had called out and introduced them. Only the wind ripping through the spaces in the tile of the roof could be heard. Then the door on the right creaked open, slowly at first, then a little faster as the dust fell from its surface and it gained momentum. A tall, lean man in white robes came out from the doorway and held his hand up greeting them.

“Hello, Al,” the man said.

“Heh, even they can’t pronounce my name,” Al snickered under his breath.

“We have been expecting you. A falcon arrived yesterday from Master Lepkin. He wanted you to know that he will be leaving Livany tomorrow. He says that he has spoken with the Lievonian Order and will be making a stop off at Roegudok Hall, to visit your brother.”

“Headstrong lubbocks,” Al grumbled. Erik had heard Al try to talk Master Lepkin out of going to Roegudok Hall before the three of them parted ways, but Master Lepkin was not one who would easily be dissuaded.

“Perhaps, it will please you to know that Master Lepkin also informed us of your arrival and we have prepared everything that you require. I will show you to your quarters, and then you may begin your studies as soon as you wish.”

“Well, first I’m gonna need something to eat,” Al said.

The man smiled and looked at both of them kindly. Erik noticed that the man’s eyes seemed to be covered by some sort of cloudy film. The color in the orbs was very dull, almost gray. Erik realized that the man was blind. “Let us go inside,” the man said. “Please, dismount from your horses and leave them here. They will be taken to the stables out back and your belongings shall be brought to you.” The man then turned and walked back through the doorway.

“Horses are forbidden on the temple grounds,” Al said over his shoulder to Erik. Al hopped down from his horse and started to walk. Erik did the same.

As he walked through the doorway he looked up to the enormous tower. The base was made of gray granite, reaching up a third of the way until it gave way to darker stones. Windows were evenly spaced along the tower in a vertical column. Erik assumed that each window marked a new story in the tower as they were approximately ten feet apart. He noticed that the top third of the tower was wider than the base of the tower, with wooden porches protruding out and encircling the structure. He wondered how such a tower could stand. It seemed to him that a strong wind would take the top-heavy thing down to the dirt below, but Master Lepkin had told him previously that this temple was thousands of years old.

A sudden slap to his gut brought Erik out of his wonder and back to the present.

“Stop gawking boy, this ain’t a sight-seeing trip,” Al chided. “Get goin.”

Erik quickly fell back in behind the blind man and tried to maintain pace, though his eyes didn’t stop feasting on everything around him. He noticed a pair of men standing on either side of the red, arched door at the base of the tower. Their heads were shaven, except for a single braid of hair that hung from the back of their heads and draped over the front of their shoulders. They wore red, loose fitting suits of silk, with gold buttons up the front. Their shoes were tan leather. In their hands they held great staff weapons with blades the likes of which Erik had never seen before fixed at the top of the shaft and wicked looking flanged steel points on the bottom. Erik looked from the weapon to one of the guards eyes and noticed that he too had the same silvery film covering his eyes. Erik was puzzled by this, but he decided he would ask Al about it later. He didn’t want to get slapped again for not keeping up.

The man in the white robes opened the red door and walked inside. Erik followed him in and stopped dead in his tracks, letting Al slam right into him. Al pushed Erik aside and groused about tall folk being easily impressed and walked on, following the man in the white robes. Erik paid no mind. He craned his head up and marveled at the painted scenes above. Great dragons of all colors soared through the painted clouds and sky. Fireballs and streams of yellow split the scene as the magnificent beasts battled each other. Erik let his eyes fall down to the wall and noticed that the scene continued. The walls had scenes of men fighting each other through a great valley by a blue river. There were wizards throwing lightning bolts, knights on horseback, spearmen slaying great beasts, and archers letting loose their arrows. Erik spun around slowly, taking each inch of the mural in. It was all depicted so realistically. The men painted were life-size, with the men in the background shrinking to give the illusion of distance. Erik felt as though he were in the middle of the great valley himself, watching a moment of history unfold before his very eyes. He looked back up to the ceiling and noticed that the dragons, too, were painted so that their size fit in with the battle scene around him. The beasts high in the sky were smaller, and those that cast their fiery breath at humans from above were much, much bigger.

Erik turned to say something to Al, but then realized that the dwarf was gone, and so was the man in the white robes. All at once he felt uneasy, as though he were inside a nobleman’s house without permission and rifling through personal items. He quickly shuffled his feet along the green carpet, which he realized was colored to fit in with the mural as well. As he quickly left the room he wondered who had painted it if all of the people here were blind.

The next chamber was just as large as the entrance area. It also had a completely enclosed mural painted on every wall and on the ceiling, but it was not a scene of battle. This room showed the inside of a grand hall with columns of gold holding up high, vaulted ceilings. The left wall had a throne painted with a dwarf sitting on it. There was a great gathering of dwarves all around the throne. Sections of them wore distinct colors on their tunics and held different banners aloft. The markings of different clans, Erik assumed. Erik looked closely at the dwarf sitting on the throne and thought the dwarf looked a lot like Al, at least in the respect that the dwarf also had a ridiculously long beard of red and seemed to be scowling all the time. Erik looked at the dwarf for a while before turning to the opposite wall. There he saw another throne, with a man sitting on it. There were hordes of warriors around the man, all kneeling, but not looking at the man on the throne. Erik followed the gaze of the men in the painting to the wall behind him. His jaw hit the floor when he saw a giant leg painted on either side of the doorway through which he had entered the room.

He backed up and gaped at the large, golden dragon. Its wings covered the breadth of the entire wall, and they weren’t even extended. The head of the short necked dragon reached onto the ceiling, as though he were towering over Erik and looking right into his eyes. Its arms were extended, the one pointing at the human on the throne, and the other pointing to the dwarf. The dragon’s mouth was open and beams of gold were extending from it.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it,” a man called out from behind. Erik almost tripped over himself as he tried to turn around.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be nosy,” Erik replied quickly. He saw the man in white had returned, probably to look for him.

“It’s alright, young lad. I too have spent many hours in this very room, marveling at the wonder of this moment in time.”

“But, I thought…” Erik tried to think of how to ask the question without being offensive.

“That I was blind?” the man asked with a crooked, knowing smile. Erik nodded his head. “Come, I will show you to the library. Al is there, eager to begin your studies. Perhaps we can talk some more another time.”

“Can you answer one question first?” Erik asked.

“I suppose I can grant you that,” the man replied.

“There are a lot of dragons painted on the other room. Here there is only one. He must have been important. Who was he?” Erik pointed up to the painting.

“His name is Hiasyntar’Kulai. He is the progenitor of the Ancients,” the man replied.

*****

“Read page four hundred and ninety-seven, third paragraph down,” Al instructed.

Erik wearily flipped through the pages. He had been reading for hours already and his vision was beginning to blur. When he found the page, he traced the words with his finger until he found the third paragraph. He began reading to himself.

“Read it aloud,” Al said.

Erik sighed. “Page four hundred and ninety-seven, third paragraph: In the days of Nagar the Black and Tu’luh the Red a great and powerful magic was discovered. The words of this magic are written in a magical book entitled Nagar’s Secret, and can not be repeated in any other book. Know only that the magic contained in Nagar’s Secret has the power to transform all life into dark and sinister servants of the underworld. Tu’luh and Nagar the Black used this power in an attempt to control the Middle Kingdom. Many lives were lost, and many dragons turned from the ways of the Ancients and became vile demons and beasts, devouring the land and every living thing.”

“Skip to the first paragraph of the following page,” Al Interrupted.

“The great Battle of Hamath Valley was the final chapter in Tu’luh and Nagar’s reign of darkness. The Ancients, with the help of the armies and wizards of men, were able to turn back the tides of darkness using the magic of Allun’rha. Nagar and Tu’luh were slain at Hamath, and during the winter following that battle, the Ancients hunted the rest of the dark army that had swept across the land like a plague.” Erik looked up to Al, who was pacing back and forth in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back and his head aimed at the red rug on the floor.

“Go on, I didn’t tell you to stop,” Al insisted.

Erik looked back to the book and continued. “After the dark army was destroyed, the Ancients took Nagar’s Secret back to a secret temple in the mountains. They tried to destroy it, but the magic that had created it prevented its destruction. Worse than this, over time the Ancients realized that the magic within Nagar’s Secret called out to them, and wormed into their minds with its dark powers. Several more of the Ancients were twisted by the book and had to be slain in order to keep the magic from being loosed again.

“After many years living under the fear of the book’s dark magic, Hiasyntar’Kulai, the Father of the Ancients, understood what had to be done. He had come to understand that the book’s magic did not reach out to the minds of men the same as it called to the minds of dragons. He knew that men would have to guard the book, as it could not be destroyed and dragons could fall victim to its charms. He selected from among the human kind a man of great integrity, a man of strength, character, and an unyielding sense of duty and honor, to become the Keeper of Secrets.”

“You can stop there for a second,” Al said. “What have you learned, boy?”

Erik thought for a moment, rehashing the words he had read over the previous few hours and combining them with this new passage. “The Ancients are a race of dragons that were here before the Old Gods. When the first beings appeared in this part of Terramyr, the Ancients helped watch over them.”

“And who were the first beings in this part of the world?” Al asked. Erik hated being quizzed like this, but he had been hungry for answers, and now he was getting his fill of them.

“Dwarves were the first beings created by the Old Gods to dwell here. They built Roegudok Hall and became very close with the Ancients. Then, humans, orcs, goblins, and elves came as well.”

“Very good, my boy. What else have you learned?”

“The Ancients protected the land from the demons and Shadowfiends in that time. There were many battles, most of them minor, until the rise of Nagar the Black. He must have been a very powerful wizard.”

“He wasn’t just a wizard, boy, he was a necromancer. The book you’re reading now won’t describe the magic that Nagar’s Secret contains, but my grandfather was there. He saw it, and he told my father about it. Then my father told me and my brother about it. Nagar the Black discovered how to harness powers of the underworld that were so great he could bring dragons back from the dead, only when he raised them from death they were not the same as they were in life. The magic twisted them, and made them utterly evil. They were stronger than living dragons, and a lot more cunning. It took everything the Middle Kingdom had to stop them.”

“That’s awful,” Erik said.

“And that ain’t the half of it,” Al groused. “The magic had the power to reach into a man’s heart and pull out the wickedness that hides there. No man is all good. There is always some amount of evil in a man, just usually we learn to control it as we grow older. We learn the difference between right and wrong and choose to try to be good. But this magic, it preyed on the shadows in men’s hearts. Thus, Nagar used it to warp and control not only the dead that he called back from the underworld, but also the living.” Al shuffled over to a chair and flopped down, staring at the floor. “It used man’s greed and jealousy against him. The war turned brother against brother, and father against son. That is why it is so important that Nagar’s Secret never be found again by those who would try to use its power. If it is ever found again, we will have no chance of stopping it.”

“What about the magic of Allun’rha, can’t it defeat the dark magic?” Erik asked.

“It did once, but no one knows how it was done. The wizard who discovered the power died using it to save us all from darkness. There are some references in obscure texts about a book that is said to hold the writings of Allun’rha, The Illumination, but no one knows where that book is. The Ancients never found it, and the Keeper of Secrets has never found it. It is lost, if it ever existed at all.”

“Al, where did the Ancients go?” Erik asked.

Al looked up from his chair and smiled half-heartedly. “Go to page one-thousand and sixty-eight. Read the last paragraph aloud.”

Erik flipped through the tome until he found the page and scanned down to the last paragraph on the page. “Two hundred years after the Battle of Hamath, the Father of the Ancients lay dying, being called to the underworld by the dark forces within Nagar’s Secret. He knew that the book would continue to warp dragons as long as they remained in the Middle Kingdom, so he decreed that all of the Ancients would leave. After all of the others had left, the Father of the Ancients took a group of devoted followers into his lair. He granted them the gift of True Sight, so that when one Keeper of Secrets died, or became unworthy of his calling, they might select another in his stead.”

“No one knows where they went,” Al said with a sigh. “Some say they flew over the oceans and made a new home on the far away continents of our ancestors. Others say that they have all died out, killed at last by the book’s terrible power. I don’t know for sure where they went, or if they still live, but I doubt they will ever come back. As long as Nagar’s Secret remains, they can not return. Tu’luh and Nagar may have lost the Battle of Hamath, but it appears that their cunning may prove to get the better of us in the end. If the book is found and opened, there is no magic that can counter it, and without the Ancients to help us fight off the Shadowfiends that would swarm to the book’s call, the whole of our kingdom would crumble in the span of two months, maybe less.”

“The people that attacked Lord Lokton, and that warlock that came after me, they are trying to find Nagar’s Secret, aren’t they?” Erik asked.

“Yes, Erik, I think they are,” Al said with a somber nod. The dwarf hopped out of the chair and snatched a brown leather tome from the second shelf of a tall bookshelf that spanned the entire wall. He walked over and thunked the book down in front of Erik. “Master Lepkin will return soon. He will have more information for us when he returns, but until then, read as much of this book as you can.”

Erik picked it up and read the title aloud. “‘Shadow and Light’, written by Misgerahh’tanah Sit’marihu.” Erik paused after he stumbled through the difficult name on the cover. “It sounds a lot like your name,” Erik said to Al.

“That’s because the book was written by my grandfather,” Al replied.