A Failed Search For Engval

Twas last eve that my lord Aithne and I traveled to the city of Wind. Wind is an unusually quiet city save the occasional bone chilling laughter of the liches that roam dark corners. Twas our expectation to find our Lord Steward, Engval either dead or alive in the gloom.

We entered the magic portal in the mountains that is the entrance to the ancient city of Magicka. Almost at once we were greeted by the stench of the undead. I cursed under my breath that nothing is ever easy as I removed my grimoire from my backpack. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Aithne's steed take a nervous step. Not waiting for the litch to get any closer I touched my mana and I spoke the words of power "An Ex Por". The litch was held, paralyzed and easy prey for my companion and I.

As we delved deeper into the tunnels that lead to the city we met more of the filthy liches. We fought our way through the passages and emerged into the city proper without great harm to ourselves. Twas slow going as we searched from building to building, shop to shop. Our inquiries to the various denizens and shop keeps of the city yielded no clues as to whether or not Engval had even made it this far. As the hours wore on I began to wonder at the rumor that Engval might still be somewhere near Trinsic.

I pushed the thought from my mind and urged my horse forward. Aithne and I did not speak. We have fought many a battle and many a monster side by side. There was no need for words as we continued our search. Aithne wore a grim look of determination. I knew the look. My mentor and my friend was resolute. I could not help but feel pride the he would risk his life for a man he hardly knew. My plea for help was all he needed to spur him into action.

We came upon a pentagram. I could feel ancient magic surround me as I stepped onto the teleporter. As I took a step I looked over my shoulder to ensure that my companion was with me. I could tell by the look in Aithne's eye that we were in danger. As I turned in my saddle a rush of leathery wings and a voice that sounded like gravel being crushed prepared me for the on coming gargoyle. As we fought for our lives more gargoyles joined the battle. We fought without thinking. Cutting down 4 of the bloody beasts.

We healed our wounds. I took a moment to meditate as Aithne circled around to look for Engval and scout the surrounding area. At the frantic sound of hooves I tore myself from my meditation. Aithne was on the defensive as a kraken harried him with amazing speed. Thinking quickly I tried to paralyze the beast. My spell touched the writhing kraken but nothing happened! I was stunned and confused. I cast the spell again. It did not work!!! My hesitation was a most costly mistake. In my disbelief that the beast was not stilled by my spell I found myself in melee with the kraken. As I drew my sword I yelled over my shoulder for Aithne to step onto the teleporter. Knowing I had not a chance against the beast I spurred my steed toward the teleporter.

The kraken was faster than any horse I had ever seen. The kraken tore into my flesh. I was loosing blood fast. I stepped onto the teleporter and into darkness. There was no sound. There was no color. I was dead. My trusty steed gone, prey to the kraken no doubt.

As I despaired I felt powerful magic pulling at my sole. Aithne was trying to bring me back to the living. I wanted to resist. I wanted to wallow in my guilt, my sense of failure. The magic pulled. Time was stretched to an infinitely thin line. I Realized that my self pity would not save Engval. I acquiesced to the magic.

Valor is a word nary able to describe Aithne's next action. He handed me his backpack and in the blink of an eye he disappeared into the teleporter. Before I could react he had returned holding a familiar pouch in his hand. He shook his head as he handed me my reagents. I knew my horse was dead.

It was late. We were tired . The fight beaten out of us. It was time to rest for the night...

We did not need to speak as we headed for Skara. There was nothing to say.