Chapter 2
Zorik Ulorifaen should not have been here. Zorik would have been smarter to have chosen to forget his wild goose chase and his get-power-quick schemes. Unfortunately, Zorik wasn’t a person to let something go especially after the amount of time he had invested in trying to achieve this goal. But this search was nothing like any of the expeditions and treasure hunts he had been on before, this find could change both Zorik's life and the world itself. Or at least Zorik thought so. For the relic Zorik sought after had, after centuries of being lost, been deemed a myth and a hoax. Zorik was searching for the lost Medallion of Goforen; a medallion whose disappearance was just as mysterious as the disappearance of its owner, Goforen himself.
Goforen was an ancient magician, centuries old who is supposed to be one of the most powerful that ever lived. The title is fitting, as Goforen is one of the few magicians to have ever achieved the highest rank of magical power in the magical world; Warlock. Even more surprising is that Goforen achieved this rank before he was even a century old, which is unprecedented in the magical world. Those that protest the magnificence of Goforen attribute his power to the medallion that Goforen was said to wear at all times. Others say Goforen’s power lied in his mastery of some of the darkest and most feared of the magical arts. However the power was attained there is no debate that Goforen was definitely feared by all, magicians and normal humans alike. It is even said that before his disappearance Goforen tried to challenge the power of the King himself. And then he simply disappeared.
Of late though, in certain circles, Zorik has heard rumor that the medallion has appeared once more. Zorik traced the medallion to be in the possession of a certain dark sorcerer. And it is the journey to find that sorcerer that has brought Zorik to where he is now.
And Zorik should not be here. Zorik should not have been hiding in a dark corner in a corridor waiting for death itself to pass by and hopefully not notice him.
The sorcerer slowly inched closer and closer to where Zorik lay and Zorik tensed with anticipation and a slight trace of fear. Luckily, just as Zorik had hoped the sorcerer stopped at the gourd that Zorik had dropped to the floor. Zorik watched the sorcerer pick up some of the shattered fragments of the gourd. Zorik noticed that the sorcerer was not wearing a medallion. One of Zorik’s eyebrows twitched as a slight flare of anger passed over him. He hoped that he did not come here on a completely meaningless journey. As the sorcerer turned around and began to walk down the corridor Zorik began let his muscles relax and calmed down. The sorcerer turned the corner and Zorik stepped out of his crouch. He quickly walked down the corridor and then heard something from down the perpendicular hallway. Zorik stopped abruptly and listened in. As he realized what it was his eyes popped open and he began to slowly back away from the hallway.
Then it got louder and he knew for sure. Zorik was hearing someone chuckle.
Zorik turned around and was face-to-face with the most ferocious of things he had ever seen. The sorcerer’s face was like something to be expected out of the vilest of animals. The sorcerer’s eyes were sanguine and had strange black tendrils surrounding the pupils. Even stranger was that the tendrils were moving. Zorik averted his eyes from the sorcerer’s and looked toward its mouth. He instantly regretted this as he saw the man's teeth. His teeth were long, almost six inches, and looked to be filed to a point. And they were black, not rotted and gnarly but perfectly healthy and full, just black.
“Well, what do we have here” the sorcerer said.
“Invisible!” Zorik cried, his body instantly becoming transparent. Zorik passed his hand in fromt of the sorcerer's eyes, hoping to see he had rendered invisible. To his disappoint the sorcerer followed his hand intently and kept up his abysmal smile. Zorik ran.
“To him!” the sorcerer called out and as Zorik turned into the perpendicular hallway the sorcerer once again appeared in front of him.
“Be still!” Zorik commanded and he channeled all the energy he could muster into his words and focused intently on the sorcerer. The sorcerer shivered violently as the magic made its way into his body and suddenly with a great snap the sorcerer’s back straightened and his eyes popped open as he maintained a perfectly erect and unmoving position.
Zorik let out a curse; immediately feeling the strain on his body as the spell drained his energy. A strain heightened by the tremendous strength of the sorcerer working to break the spell. Every one of Zorik’s muscles ached terribly as he fought to keep the sorcerer still. And Zorik cursed once more as he felt sharp shock spread acroos his head; the sorcerer was now trying to invade his mind. But Zorik struggled on as he had an even harder task ahead of him.
Zorik then uttered, “Answer truthfully!” and his knees buckled over the combined weight of the two spells.
“Now,” Zorik asked. “Where is the medallion?”
The sorcerer tried to fight the spell but was betrayed as Zorik used his own mind against him. The sorcerer’s lips parted unwillingly and smiled a maniacal grin and flashed his charcoal teeth. His teeth parted and Zorik was given a view of the pit that loomed at the back of the sorcerer’s throat. Zorik felt a sudden pain in a corner of his head and body faltered as the sorcerer gave a last ditch effort to deflect Zorik’s spells. Zorik staggered slightly and for a moment felt weak but he managed to steady himself and stay in control
“Where is the medallion!” Zorik demanded.
Zorik noticed a change in the sorcerer's expression and took as a sign his battle was nearly over.
He's through. He can't fight anymore. He'll tell me now.
“The medallion is on the top floor, the room at the end of the corridor and inside the bottom compartment of the black chest in the corner” he spit out through his teeth. The sorcerer’s mouth then shut abruptly and he resumed his motionless position.
Zorik relaxed slightly and then said “Away!” as he propelled the sorcerer through down the corridor and through several walls.
Zorik then turned and quickly ran down the hallway until he found a winding stairs and began to walk up them. It seemed like the stairs would go forever until he finally reached the top floor and then he looked down the top floor corridor and began to briskly walk down it. The longer he walked the more he began to run and the more he ran the more it seemed that the corridor would stretch indefinitely. Zorik kept going and it still did not seem like he was getting any closer to the door he could see at the end of the corridor. After continuing to run down the corridor for the next few minutes Zorik stopped and with a slow almost labored turn he looked behind. Zorik sighed as he turned to face the stairs he had most certainly come off of minutes ago.
Zorik looked down the hall and back and deduced that some enchantment was working here. Just to be sure Zorik took a deep breath and then took off down the corridor pushing his body to go as fast as possible. For a second Zorik actually thought the door at the end of hall was getting closer but then he noticed a slight tinge over his body and he stopped and turned around. As he had expected he was right back where he had started at the beginning of the hall standing right next to the stairs.
He now understood, there was definitely a spell working here. Zorik preferred to work the spell properly but knew he could not risk the sorcerer getting to him before he had the medallion. There was only one choie left; teleportation. Zorik closed his eyes and hoped that this enchantment wasn't designed with wizards in mind.
“To the door!” Zorik said and he felt his body begin to disassemble. Second by second he felt more of his body disappear and sensed his body become particulate matter. He jerked suddenly, realizing he was loosing hold on reality. Zorik struggled to hold on and kept his mind on reassembling at the door. A door he eagerly hoped was really there. Zorik had heard countless stories of magicians that perform teleportation spells and never arrive at their destination. In fact, teleporation, given its risk and general lack of long range use, was highly frowned upon as efficient means of transportation. Zorik closed his eyes and focused on the image of the door in front of him and prepared for the enchantment of the sorcerer to try and take its effect. Zorik felt himself rebuilding in front of the door and then he felt a strange entity pass over him and he immediately tensed. He divided his attention, focusing on repelling the sorcerer’s enchantment and rebuilding himself at the door. The barrier got stronger and Zorik started to feel himself slip away. He despaired, feeling his consciousness slip away by the second. With a final effort he envisioned the door and struggled against the enchantment working against him.
The barrier surged with force but Zorik held a trait more useful than all the power in the world: resilence. And as the barrier surged again Zorik summoned all his willpower and immersed himself in the notion that he would arrive at the door. Zorik felt one last tingling pass over him and then nothing. He no longer felt the presence of the barrier and he didn’t feel the strange weightlessness that marked teleportation. He opened his eyes and saw that he was at the door. Letting down his he slumped to the floor.He was thoroughly exhausted. His skirmish with the sorcerer had taken too much out of him and breaking the barrier had sapped all his energy. Zorik didn’t know if he could get up but he had no time to waste. The sorcerer would surely be on his way up right now. Zorik stood feeling a bit woozy and placed his hand on the doorknob. He turned it and, fortunately for him, it wasn’t locked.
Zorik stepped into the sorcerer’s study and looked around. There wasn’t much to see. A few books lay haphazardly arranged on the floor, there were some robes folded on top of an old dresser along the back wall and a large dagger lay on the floor by the entrance. A table stood in the middle, poorly organized with books scattered along it length. A cauldron rested in one corner and when Zorik approached his nose was assaulted by the most putrid of odors. He stepped back from the cauldron and rested his eyes on a black chest in the opposite corner. Zorik approached the chest and made to rest his hand on the clasp to open it but thought better of it. He had no idea what kind of curses and enchantments the sorcerer could have placed on the chest. It would be safest to destroy the charms placed on the box using a spell of his own but again Zorik knew that time was of the essence. In fact, Zorik was surprised that the sorcerer was not already here.
Zorik approached the dagger lying on the floor and picked it up. He worked it through his fingers, admiring the handiwork used to create the blade. It was a medium sized dagger roughly a 6-inches long. The hilt was inscribed with words that Zorik couldn't make out and a gilded serpent made its way around it. The blade of the dagger was steel and covered in some blue liquid. Zorik didn’t have time to deduce what the liquid was so he merely went back to where the chest lay. Zorik took the dagger and wedged it under the chest’s clasp. He wiggled the blade around slightly until he heard the dagger chink on something metal. Zorik then forced the dagger up and back in order to break the metal piece under the clasp. Zorik forced a little harder still and then the clasp popped open with a snap.
He twirled the dagger through his fingers unsure of what to do next.
I don't have time to waste. He'll be here momentarily. And if he gets here I'm finished. Dead. But I can't rush. No. Never. I can't rush. I'll die. I'll die on unmarked grave with an unmarked story. But I need to hurry. I have to get out of here. But I can't rush. I dont have time to waste.
Zorik abandoned the blender of thoughts running through his head and steadied himself. He had to risk it. He had gotten past enough barriers already. There couldn't be any more right?
He reached toward the chest but stopped. Stopped because he had just registered two things. One, he was bleeding. No, he was wrong. He had been bleeding. And of more pressing importance, he was being watched.
