Armor Quest: The Camelot Prophecies

Armor Quest

The Camelot Prophecies

by

Lady Antiva

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Armor Quest

The Camelot Prophecies

Copyright © 2012/2016 by Camelot Hobbies

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Manuscripts by Lady Antiva

King Arthur's Legacy: The Camelot Prophecies #1

Camelot Chronicles: The Camelot Prophecies #2

Warlord: The Camelot Prophecies #3

Armour Quest: The Camelot Prophecies

Shard of Galahad: The Camelot Prophecies

Tactician: Tactics Anthem Chronicles

Steel vs Magic - Tactics Anthem RPG

Author Blog and Websites:

http://ladyantivasmanuscripts.yolasite.com

Twitter and Facebook Fanpage:

http://twitter.com/LadyAntiva

http://www.facebook.com/AOLTactics

Related Free-to-Play Online-game of this Property:

http://ta.cherrycredits.com/

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It was a time of darkness. Upon the shining land of Bretunia the blood of Arthur Pendragon had been spilt, and the mighty sword Excalibur fallen from his cold hand. Arising to seize the throne of the fair city of Camelot came the dark witch, the Dragon Queen, the Fairy Morgan, come to claim the prize in the wake of her brother’s death. Morgan Le Fay had with her the poverty-stricken and anarchy-maddened; the weak-minded and mercenary; the cruel and avaricious. Assisting her were the powerful Dragonlords, seven in all - Xerxes, the Red Dragonlord; Vydraken, the Blue Dragonlord; Cariolanus, the Yellow Dragonlord; Impiron, the Green Dragonlord; Breune, the Brown Dragonlord; Orlordin, the Indigo Dragonlord; and, most powerful and enigmatic of them all, Na-sheol, Dark Prince of Sheol, Black Dragonlord. With this army, she tore through the land and swallowed it, and the shadow of her power crept closer and closer towards weakening Camelot.

Upon that ailing throne sat a monarch troubled and weary - Constantine du Cador, named King after the death of Arthur. King Constantine had with him his young wife, the lovely, gentle Queen Variana; and their naive, impetuous son, Crown Prince Uriel Loron, called by the childish name of Aubriet by those who knew him well. A knight-designate of the Round Table, and ambitious and restless, the youth was tall and strong and fair of face and limb. As the proud land of Bretunia flinched with each blow the dread Queen inflicted, the young prince formed a resolution he determined would save his kingdom - he would go out and seek Excalibur, and the Archmage Merlin, and bring them back to Camelot. King Constantine would not hear of it, but young Uriel Loron would not be deterred - one night he saddled his horse, gathered his effects, and left the castle under the cover of darkness. Henceforth he called himself, not the Crown Prince Uriel Loron, but merely the humble young knight, Sir Aubriet.

In another part of fair Bretunia lived a young man not so splendid, nor so grand - in a poorly home he lived, deep in the distant forest of Edela. A makidon, young, talented, trained by old Sir Ector in the ways of life and death - Tosham was his name; he knew no other. In search of the venerable master and his young apprentice came the noble Sir Delyus, and his companion Sir Claude, to urge them into aiding King Constantine; Sir Ector being old and weak, Tosham alone was sent with them. But the gallant company was waylaid by Lord Breune and the sorcerer Pleonodis; Sir Claude was captured, Sir Delyus killed. Tosham alone escaped.

In the humble town of Northshire did the makidon find a haven; while there, the young makidon met a strange little personage who called himself Riadok. Hardly over adolescence, this odd, clumsy young mage, apparently talentless and somewhat foolish, later encountered - also seemingly by chance - the travelling Sir Aubriet. The three traveled together to Old Yew Forest to seek Excalibur, only to be bid to perform a task in return for the great sword.

Together with a Galan sent as their escort, the High Priestess Estella and childhood companion of Tosham, the company traveled to the desert land of Talmissra, far away. There they went to the magical Tower of Dreams, where they met the young, mysterious mage, Sheja, minion of Qua-Seth and apprentice of Merlin. All were sent forth to seek the scattered articles of the magical Armor of Light, once worn by the powerful being known only as the Knight of Light. The enigmatic Tower of Dreams and its great portal powers aided their journey immensely.

I will now open the Gateway, said Sheja,

Four doorways shall be revealed to you. Each of you are to go on individual quests for the Seven Articles of the Knight of Light; when you retrieve your respective articles you will be transported back to the Tower of Dreams. On your return you will be sent out to retrieve the remaining articles. The sound of thunder echoed somewhere deep within the tower in pursuit of a streak of cackling lightning.

Makidon Tosham, in the standing of Kash-Nor, you shall go to the Tomb of Five Wars in search of the Enchanted Chain-Mail, on the borders of the Empire of Talmissra and the Kingdom of Tarntora. The doorway is open. As she said this, a slit of light split the air in front of Estella and widened until it was large enough to admit her and her steed."

Lady Galan Estella, in the standing of Xann-Nori, you are to go to Lakescastle on Moon's Cradle Lake, in search of the Sandal of the Knight of Light, on the island of Sheyke. The doorway is open.

Sir Knight Aubriet, in the standing of Sha-Nori, you will go to Whitewood, the Elven forest, in search of the Spiritual Blade. The doorway is open.

High Apprentice Mage Riadok, in the standing of Imri-Nor, you are to go to the Flying Tower near the port-city Basir-Kas, in search of the Girdle of the Knight of Light, in the Empire of Macherras. The doorway is open.

No problem, smacked the eager mage, already having the time of his life.

Sheja beckoned Aubriet to her, and had him place the Life-Medallion around his neck again. Then she said, Go forth, thy destiny awaits.

Tosham took a deep breath, staring into the doorway with its almost blinding yellow light. Then he said, in a voice far more confident than he felt, Safe passage, everyone. May we meet again in the Tower of Dreams.

Safe passage, they all murmured to one another, all straining a smile.

Then one by one, they stepped through the Gateway.

* * * * *

Makidon Tosham’s Quest - Enchanted Chainmail

For a moment after stepping through the portal, Tosham felt as though he had become weightless - as though the physical parts of what he was were totally detached from his consciousness, as though he was travelling in spirit and had left his body behind elsewhere. He tried to raise a hand to block out the brilliant light stinging his eyes, and found he had neither hand nor eyes; he was almost certain that something had gone wrong, that he had died and was crossing the boundaries of reality to wherever souls go when their mortal bodies give up. Then substance came back to him in a violent crash and he found himself lying on a grassy knoll, blinking his eyes to get rid of the multi-colored spots before them.

Something cold and wet nudged the back of his neck. Without thinking, Tosham leapt to his feet and whirled around, twin-globed scepter in hand, ready to do battle. It was his horse, looking quizzically at him with hazel eyes. Tosham sighed, sheathing his scepter. You gave me rather a turn there, Windy. he said, patting the white steed's silken mane. Windracer, the horse, nuzzled him again and stamped his hoof, impatient to be off. The trip through the Tower of Dreams' magic portal had obviously not affected the creature.

Tosham looked around speculatively. He was standing just two feet or so from a narrow dirt road, meandering through what appeared to be a plantation of some sort. The trees were growing in neat rows, and were laden with bright blue and white blossoms; at their roots were immaculately trimmed bushes which sprouted a mixture of pale, delicate white flowers and small pink berries in bunches. Peering a little further down the road, Tosham saw that it forked, and a signpost planted at the fork. He mounted Windracer and clicked the reins gently. Let's see where we are, Windy. Over to the signpost.

The sign was written in two languages - Talmis and Tarn, which were the main languages in the Kingdom of Tarntora, just a few leagues beyond. Tosham could read a little of each; just enough to get his bearings. The road which they had just come up was identified as leading to a tea and sweet pear plantation. The right and left fork were respectively directing towards Little Ampor Town - two miles and Tomb of Five Wars - seven miles.

Tosham pondered. Shall I head straight to the Tomb of Five Wars? But the scroll didn't say much about it...maybe I should try to find out a little more before venturing into the lion's mouth. What do you think, Windy? The horse neighed and flicked his head in the direction of Little Ampor. A fly went buzzing off his nose. Tosham laughed. All right then - to town it shall be.

When the bard scholar who had discovered the Seven Articles, had come to Little Ampor those many years ago, it had merely been a little fishing village. During the rainy season the bellows of the nearby Kash-Nor Falls roaring into the Shymen River had drowned out all sounds of activity in the tiny settlement. Now Little Ampor was a proper town, with cobbled streets in the process of being paved by the latest method imported into Talmissra, and marketplaces, guildhouses and even small inns lining the lanes. The Guild of Merchants was by far the most imposing building, built large as most merchant-houses are, gilded with expensive materials as most merchants are too. But its heavy its presence made heavier by walls made of obsidian overwhelmed the pure simplicity of the other guildhouses next to it - the Fishermen's Guild with its nets hung out over the immense porch, drying in the sun; the Guild of Farmers with its thatched roof and open doors, hung with dried fruits and meats; and the Laborer’s Guild with the broad-bellied men and a few swarthy women laughing and drinking mead in the shade of a gigantic, ancient tree, its branches splayed out over most of the guildhouse and much of the street beyond it. It occurred to Tosham that it was rest-day here in Tarntora. Many of the shops were officially closed, their owners sitting in the shade chatting with each other although anyone would be served if they asked. The lone tavern, however, was open, and people drifted in and out in a leisurely trickle. The neatly painted sign over the doorway - Talmissrans never hung their signs on hinged poles the way Bretuns did - identified it as Crawley's Tavern.

That's a good place to start, murmured Tosham. Windracer obediently trotted up the sunbaked street and allowed Tosham to tether him to the post with several other mounts of different shapes and sizes. As he swung the reins round the post, Tosham listened to the chatter within. They were speaking in a mixture of Tarn and Talmis, and Tosham wondered whether the Elixir of Words would work with two different languages being spoken at the same time. Tosham had studied a little of all the main languages in the known world, but there was no way he could acquire even Riadok's fluency, much less interpret this rapid flood of words, without the help of the Elixir.

He rummaged briefly in his bundle, and brought out the small glass vial which Sheja had given each of them before they left the Tower of Dreams. It was filled with a sapphire-blue liquid that bubbled when shaken. Keeping himself well within earshot of the tavern, he measured a single drop of the liquid into his palm, and touched his tongue to it. At first it was tasteless; so bland he thought perhaps he had not measured enough. Then a bright, lemony taste filled his mouth, and the outpouring of language from the tavern which entered his mind began to find parallels for their meaning in his own mind. They were talking about the weather; about the salmon which would soon be coming down the Shymen River; about the town belle. They were exchanging witty anecdotes, discussing business deals, telling bawdy jokes. In fact they were talking about everything commonly talked about on lazy Sunday afternoons.

With a smile, Tosham entered the tavern, a tall, lean, tow-headed makidon in the midst of a teeming crowd full of dark-haired commoners with blackjeweled eyes just like Rani's and Sheja's. The difference earned him a few bemused glances as well as friendly smiles, but no one approached to ask where he hailed from. Tosham remembered that in Tarntora, it was considered impolite to ask information off an un-introduced stranger who did not offer it of his own volition. Apparently the practice had spread into this area with the language, precariously balanced on the boundary of the two kingdoms.

He sat down at the bar counter, observing with interest the bowl of woven reeds filled with dried fruits, passed from table to table, from the wenches to the laborers to the fishermen, back to the owner of the tavern behind the counter to be filled again. Ale, if you please," said Tosham in Talmis when the big man asked. The look of pleasure of those in earshot was similar to Rani's when Riadok had spoken in Talmis to her.

His ale was placed promptly before him, in a large tankard. We don't get many strangers here, said the swarthy owner with a grin. He was about twice Tosham's width, with a huge beer belly which he carried proudly before him and a straight black beard with the slightest touch of silver in it. He held out a hand adorned with a single, heavy gold ring. I'm Crawley, keeper of the zoo in Little Ampor. He said this loud enough for most of the people in the tavern to hear him. They laughed and good-naturedly pelted him with a few pits from his own dried fruits.

Tosham took his hand, smiling. I'm a makidon. He had already decided it would be best not to let too many people know his name. The title of Makidon would suffice.

Well met, young makidon, said Crawley, have a fruit. Tosham took a pink, sugar-powdered sweet pear from the bowl Crawley offered him and ate it with his ale. Both were very good. What business have you in this remote region? You are not from either Talmissra or Tarntora. Your accent says as much, even if your looks don't. Now that the introductions were over, they were permitted to question each other as they wished.

I need to go to the Tomb of Five Wars, replied Tosham.

There was an immediate reaction from the entire tavern. The loud laughter, the shouting and the joking all fell suddenly away, replaced instead by strange looks and apprehensive whispers which revealed more than they concealed. They were not hostile expressions, but Tosham realized that the lack of aggression due more to the fact that he was a foreigner who knew no better than because there was no cause to be hostile. Even Crawley looked somewhat distressed. Still, he asked, Why would you want to go to such a place?

I need to retrieve something which is in the Tomb. I know, he continued, that the religions of Talmissra dislike the living to associate with the dead, but I assure you what I need from the tomb does not require me to desecrate any graves, or...

You don’t understand, said Crawley softly, it is not the dead of the Tomb we fear. The warriors who died in the Five Wars of Talmissra and Tarntora have been dead for many decades, and we do not fear for them any longer. They have never disturbed us before, they never will now. We do not fear the dead of the Tomb, Lord Makidon, his voice dropping to a whisper, We fear the living.

What? Tosham looked around him, bewildered. The entire tavern was silent now, waiting for Crawley to continue his explanation. What do you mean?

I mean Necromancers, Lord Makidon, said Crawley, the name hissing out from between his teeth, the accursed necromancers.

Necromancers...Tosham repeated the word to himself in disbelief. Necromancers - magicians who were completely sold over to the Black Arts, and able to allegedly speak to the dead. Necromancers - dabblers in arcane arts, magicians who read the stars to predict future events. Necromancers. Impossible, he said at once. Necromancy was outlawed centuries ago. It's a pagan art. No religion condones it.

Necromancy may have been outlawed, but nevertheless Necromancers exist, said Crawley. It was believed that after the Five Wars, all the Necromancers were wiped out. There was no need for a law. But at least one is still alive, still practicing the art. And whoever he might be, is in the Tomb of Five Wars.

It's true! A young girl with wide black eyes, still holding the fruit bowl in one hand, interjected excitedly in a tumbling mixture of Talmis and Tarn. Me saw spirits about the Falls. I seen them wandering. They's human spirits. They cannert wander w'out som’one t' raise them from they's graves. Som’one's been raising spirits.

Don't underestimate Avigna, said Crawley. She's young, and she's not too bright, but she has the Sight. When she says she sees spirits, then there are spirits. She even described them to me; believe me, those spirits, if they are spirits, were dressed the way warriors of the Five Wars did, and there's no way Avigna could have known what they wore back then. Avigna's never been to school; she couldn't read a child's picture scroll to save her life, much less a history book.

Tosham looked from Crawley to Avigna to the tavern's silent patrons, and back to Crawley again. He did not believe that there were truly Necromancers in the Tomb, but from their faces he was fairly certain that there was something there which was terrorizing the townsfolk. Nonetheless, he had a mission to accomplish - whether it was Necromancers, undead, or a battalion of fire-breathing dragons guarding the Tomb, he had to accomplish it. He had to get the enchanted chainmail.

I cannot say if there are Necromancers in the Tomb, said Tosham softly, But it is evident that there is something there. Nevertheless I must get to the Tomb of Five Wars. Is there anything else I ought to know?

We know too little of the goings-on there to advise you properly, I'm afraid, said Crawley. No one's ever wanted to find out more about the Necromancers. Since you are a makidon yourself, you should be able to handle yourself fairly well - still, I'd rather dissuade you from your mission if I could.

I'm afraid that will be quite impossible, Tosham muttered, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Then I will provide you a few provisions for the journey, for two gold pieces. Avigna can tell you where the spirits are most likely to haunt, and you must avoid those places if you can. Even if you do not believe her completely, I beg you to avoid those places, just to humor us. We would rather not have Avigna tell us one day that it is your spirit she `sees'. There was a faint, bitter smile on his face as he said this. Tosham chose not to query him about it.

I thank you, he said formally, instead.

Windracer was loaded up with all the food and water Crawley could reasonably provide for Tosham's two gold pieces, and in great detail Avigna informed him earnestly of all the `h'anted' spots, as she called them, which he should avoid. Tosham made up his mind to venture to one of those places in particular, just to see if there really were any strange things going on there.

As it turned out he could venture near none of them. Windracer would not go within five feet of these spots, no matter how totally harmless, even friendly, they appeared. From time to time Tosham thought he saw ‘something’ - a branch moving in still air, a leaf lingering in the wind, a pebble which appeared apparently out of nowhere - but nothing near what Avigna had described of men in ancient armor and antique weapons having marching drills, or practicing hand-to-hand combat.

Of course, he murmured half-cynically, I don't have the `Sight'. Nevertheless he went on at a brisk pace, uncomfortable with the feeling of vulnerability that was beginning to creep over him as he advanced towards the Tomb - a feeling, almost, of being... watched.

The tomb was located deep in the forests of Talmissra. As he approached it he could hear the unmistakable sounds of rushing water, the sound of the Shymen River, winding its way through the mighty mountain ranges of Tarntora, weaving towards Talmissra and on to the sea. The forest had become a wild, humid tangle of trees by the time he came upon the Kash-Nor Falls, and there he could not help but pause in bewilderment

The narrow dirt path before him wound round a particularly messy clump of dense foliage, leading up to where the Shymen River broke away abruptly into the falls; and so Tosham had a hawk's eye view of the ferocious, frothing white water bellowing into the vast bubbling pool below. It was immense. The falls alone, was at least eighty feet across, of nothing but gurgling, grinding water against spears of grey, hard rock. It thundered into a vast, foaming pool a hundred feet below, and disappeared into the impenetrable forest beyond at a furious pace. Tosham could see the long detour he had made around the thick, untamed forest, for Little Ampor was still only a little way to the right, just behind, a tiny cluster of rooftops crowned with wispy spires of smoke. The wind reached nearly a gale-force here, and sprayed droplets like needles into his face. It shook the treetops for miles around so that they seemed almost to ripple, undulating like the dunes in the Great Desert. If he had taken the path directly from the plantation, he would have missed this amazing sight. Suddenly Tosham was extremely glad he had taken the longer route.

Before long he had reached the plantation again, which Crawley had informed him belonged to the merchant who had set up the Mercantile Guildhouse in Little Ampor. The smell from the ‘tippa’ tree leaves, which were used to make a fragrant herbal tea, soothed Tosham's somewhat frazzled nerves a little. The sense of eyes watching him, one of the fundamental skills he had learnt in the makidon training house, was growing by the hour.

The plantation was left behind, and once again the rainforest jungle closed in upon man and horse like a rustling green fist, turning the strong sunlight into mere dapples on the leaf-pillowed ground. Both Tosham and Windracer grew more and more edgy; when the track, dwindling to little more than a thread of brown forest soil, now, made an abrupt turn round a clump of thickly interwoven trees as Crawley had said it would. Tosham was suddenly reluctant to pursue it further. The Tomb of Five Wars was just round the corner; once he made the turn, there would be no going back.

Well, Windy, he said softly, trying to find his courage again, it's now or never. He clicked the reins, and, with obvious hesitation, the white steed made the turn. For the second time that day, Tosham stopped and stared, too awestruck to continue.

The Tomb of Five Wars was gigantic - even bigger, possibly, than Little Ampor itself. Walled up with heavy, weather-beaten grey stones, the entire structure was covered with climbing plants with intertwining tendril-like fingers, and was made up of nine huge round towers like those on a very lavish castle. In stark contrast was the entrance to the tomb - a very narrow and unadorned affair curtained with hanging plants and cobwebs. Someone like Crawley might well have gotten stuck trying to get in - or out. There were no windows anywhere at all. If any air entered the tomb - which also had a well-weathered roof of grey stone - it was through that one opening. The jungle around the tomb must have been cleared before to facilitate the building, and it receded back from the building, leaving a wide moat of loose dirt and old soil around it. The Tomb was totally unadorned; the very plainness was horrifying. It was just one immense, neatly piled stack of black rock. The number of dead bodies that would necessitate the building of so huge a tomb....

Hello.

Tosham nearly jumped with a scream.

A little girl with a round, rosy face and an upturned nose stood at Windracer's left flank, smiling interestedly up at Tosham. Her black hair was done in two stiff braids, and she was dressed in a short brown frock of some coarse material. Her eyes were Tarn eyes, small and black and not quite as round and deep-set as Talmissran eyes. In her arms she held an extremely tattered doll with brown button-eyes.

Tosham swallowed his scream hastily. I...I'm looking for the Necromancer? he tried.

Do you mean me or my father?

Tosham stared at the child in bewilderment. Since she evidently expected an answer, he said, Er...your father.

Okay. The child skipped fearlessly round to the front, patting Windracer fondly as she did so. Come with me. You've got to leave your horse outside, though; he won't fit into the entrance.

Entrance of what?

Of the tomb, she said matter-of-factly. Hurry up, don't dawdle. I need to walk Qimery, my doll, she said by way of explanation, holding up the pitiful bundle of rags, staring morosely out of the wooden eyes. The little mother beamed proudly.

Bedrith? The tomb wildly echoed the weary male voice that Tosham nearly leapt out of his skin. Ruefully he wondered if his nerves would ever be able to untangle themselves after today. Bedrith, is someone out there? Who is it? I told you not to talk to strangers. They're afraid of you.

It's all right, Deda, he's here to see you, replied the little girl calmly. That's my father, Belras the Necromancer, she said to Tosham. Let's go, hurry.

I told you not to talk to strangers. They’re afraid of you. Tosham listened to those words in trepidation - but the need to get the enchanted chainmail gave him courage. Taking a deep breath, he turned and followed Bedrith into the Tomb of Five Wars.

* * * * *

Tosham had expected the tomb to smell strongly of decaying bodies, but no such distinctive aroma assaulted his nose when he followed the child Bedrith inside. It was certainly a dark place, but enough burning torches lined the walls for him to make out several things. Although the exterior of the Tomb of Five Wars was predominantly a weathered black, the inside was painted in shades of yellow and brown. The narrow corridor that Bedrith was leading him through was painted with a variety of colored dyes that depicted the story of the Five Wars of Talmissra and Tarntora, beginning from a stiff-legged king sitting on a bulky throne ordering his scores of flame-speared knights into battle to blocky-looking wives and children lamenting at funeral pyres. The ceiling was not very high but Tosham was not very tall; it just fitted him, but if Aubriet had been there he would have been walking with a very pronounced hunch.

The smell? said Bedrith when Tosham asked her - he had whispered, but she spoke in a normal voice which echoed alarmingly down the hall. Oh, that. That's simple. The bodies were all cremated when they found that they didn't have enough space to leave them whole. Only people from the noble houses were put into coffins. We use obsidian, you know. We can't think how you Bretuns can put people into wooden coffins - they're so flimsy. Bedrith sniffed disparagingly.

Where are the coffins?

That depends. The Tarns like to be near the sky when they're dead, so they're put in the nine towers, and the nobles get the highest seats. The Talmissrans believe in being close to the ground, so they're very deep underground. The Tomb goes down for about six levels, eight feet per level. The nobles are in the deepest one. In this middle part here there are altars for all the different gods and some urns for people who were so messed up when they were found that we couldn't figure out which race they were. She said this in an off-hand way which made Tosham feel rather abashed at his own discomfort.

The corridor soon opened out into a very, very large room. It looked smaller than it really was because of the big supporting columns and the huge round structures that were the beginnings of the nine towers. The