It occurred to Gallian by way of explanation that the Wyvern-Masters might not have seen the statues, being hidden, though said reasoning was shaky at best. Their sight may be fallible but their master, Fhyrr, was not so easily fooled. Surely, he would know how to guide them to the hidden objects of power, even from his everlasting prison.
Gallian looked next at the Blessed Armor, the Sword of Quaking, and the Scimitar of Jheriem, all of which were in their exact right places, as was evident from the dust patterns. Then he took a look at the Circle of Stones. This set of six small stones comprised the key that was needed to unlock the powers granted by the statues of the gods he’d checked on earlier. Not believing his eyes, he saw all the stones were left untouched. It looked as if every last relic was still safe.
And yet, this turn of fortune seemed a little fishy to him.
Okay, so let me get this straight: the Wyvern-Masters Muertaa and Shade-Spinner come in here, kill some Guardian Sages, take a look around, peruse the artifacts, and then take nothing? Impossible! There’s just no way all those Death Beasts and those two Wyvern-Masters could spend even ten seconds in here without taking something! There must be some sort of trick involved here. So what is it?
Gallian sat down on the floor and tried to think about what he could be missing to no avail. There seemed to be nothing he hadn’t covered.
Unless . . . the Wyvern-Masters were never really here at all! The thought came to him unbidden, but now it was all he could think about. Could it really have all been an illusion? Did I kill all my brethren for nothing? No reason at all? It can’t be, right?
“It can’t be true!” he screamed to the air, hoping the utterance would somehow make it so. “The hordes must have been here, that’s all there is to it! I just have to find some kind of evidence to prove my point. There must be something I can use for evidence around here!”
Gallian made another round, searching the floor for any signs of the Death Beast army that had been only too happy to kill him just a short while ago.
“O Dark One, Fhyrr, hear me! If you have tricked me this time, and there never was a horde here, then I swear by my own blood that I will hunt down every creature and minion of yours and kill them all, you hear! I will kill them all, and I will mutilate their putrid bodies! I will hunt down every last one and destroy them with my holy magic! Not one of you will be left when I am done! Do you hear me, Fhyrr? Do you?”
Then he covered his eyes with his hands and sobbed again. After everything that had happened, the thought of having been tricked was too much for him to bear. He only had one recourse left: find proof the Dark One’s minions really had come and attacked Sanctuary to put his mind at ease.
Determined, the young Sage searched around the room once again for any sign of evidence, hoping to find anything at all. Even a single drop of demon blood would suffice. He looked over every inch of the floor and the walls, but he could find nothing. All evidence of the previous horrific encounter was gone.
He should have expected as much. The Tytin magic he had cast when activating the wards was supposed to remove all beings from the room that did not bear the protection of the Sage Ward on their skin. This ward lost its power immediately when a person died, so both the dead Guardian Sages and their enemies would have been wiped out of existence.
“Aha! I’ve got it!” Sage Gallian exclaimed. “If the hordes weren’t here in Sanctuary, then how did all the people in here die?”
The thought pacified him for a moment, but not for long. He had used the forbidden Tytin magicks to kill his pursuer before coming in here, and it was possible that spell took the lives of the Guardian Sages as well.
Another thought nagged at him, though. All the commotion from his earlier chase and the confrontation with the Wyvern-Masters should have garnered the attention of at least one other Sage that was not in Sanctuary at the time, were there any still alive. But none had. Plus, his friend Mike had been murdered before he had cast any spells. Something must have killed his friend, and potential other Sages as well, even before he’d made his mistake.
Gallian grew worried for the remaining Sages. While the loss of the Guardians, the strongest and oldest of all the Sages, was worrying, there would certainly still be several Sages alive somewhere else in the Sage Order Halls who may still be in trouble. His second spell would have had no effect on anyone outside of Sanctuary.
Gallian rushed out of Sanctuary and roamed the halls, his eyes looking intently for any sign of another living being. He didn’t bother to close the doors to Sanctuary. It wouldn’t matter if there were still enemies about; they couldn’t get in anyway, and even though protecting the relics was important, the lives of his compatriots took precedence.
When he reached the entry to his barracks, a foul order struck his nose. The stench of death. He could barely bring himself to go inside, but he did anyway, hopeful there may yet be a survivor. The scene he walked in on was straight out of a horror film. Death and blood were everywhere. His friends’ mangled bodies
