It was him.
Dezima could *sense* it.
The aftereffects of her vision caused a shiver to go down her spine. But it was impossible...the Gray One no longer existed. Karigan had destroyed the corrupt Eletian. Or at least, it had appeared that way. A chill went down Dezima's back. Karigan had destroyed the Eletians body, forcing Shawdell's spirit to inhabit the body of the king's treachorous brother. But Karigan had defeated the spirit of Shawdell in a "transitional place" by severing his link to Amilton. Karigan had seen the Eletian fade from existence, watched as the last of his life force disintegrated into nothingness.
*There must have been another potential carrier,* Dezima thought. *Someone who was overlooked. But who?*
The Gray One had been able to survive because the gift of power he had given Amilton provided him with a link to the wayward prince. Captain Mapstone had assured Dezima that any others who might have received any unnateral gifts from the Eletian had either been captured, or killed. But Dezima had a sinking feeling that when he was planning his ascension to power, the Eletian would not have left himself without alternatives, no matter how unlikely a situation might've seemed at the time. He would have prepared for any senario; even that of his own defeat. Oh, he would never have considered it possible, of course, but he would have a backup plan nonetheless. He was, after all, and Eletian. Who could guess how many centuries he had been waiting to move, planning his strategy to the finest details. Someone with so much knowledge and experience would always have something to fall back on. Perhaps Mapstone and the others were correct, and Amilton was the Eletian's backup plan. But that was doubtful . Very doubtful.
Someone as cunning as Dezima suspected Shawdell was would have several more tricks up his sleeve, layers of plans to fall back on till his enemy had lost and wouldn't even know until several encounters later. No, Dezima was sure, Sacoridia had not seen the last of Shawdell the Eletian and his army of nightmares.
~~~~~~~~~~
"What have you found?"
"Nothing." Neriesse said abruptly, annoyed at the interruption.
She glanced up at the Weapon who stood before her. He stood stiffly in front of her desk, wanting, no doubt, to be away from the dusty, book filled room in which Neriesse conducter her research.
He was young for a Weapon, she noted, and could be called handsome with bright, light blue eyes and sandy blond hair. She wondered idly how many girls had fallen for his piercing ice-blue gaze. At the moment, having his attention focused on you was not an extremely pleasant experience due to the scowl that he now wore. Obviously, Wilson was not pleased with Neriesse's answer.
"I was told you were some kind of expert on magic." He ground out, "You've been frowning at these old books for a long time and yet you still are unable to tell us anything of value."
Was it merely Neriesse's imagination, or was his voice rising a bit in volume? He was probably under as much stress, if not more, as many of the other palace occupants. She felt a brief moment of sympathy, which vanished when he continued to speak.
"You were spoken so highly of, and yet, you still have not been able to give us any anwers. Perhaps," he continued, oblivious to the glare setting itself on Neriesse's face. She suspected what was coming next, and tensed. "Maybe that old women, Dezima was fooled into seeing more in you than there is. She promised us a scholar. Instead, she gives us you."
"Oh, spare me your stupidity." She snapped, losing her patience. How dare he call her mentor a fool!
Resentment kindled in his eyes and Neriesse forced herself to calm down. Pushing away an image of Wilson with "oaf" tattooed acrosst his forehead, she mentally counted to three. Technically, she was supposed to count to ten whenever she lost her temper, but who wanted to so much time in the middle of a conversation?
"Dezima is no fool." She said, struggling to keep her tone relaxed and mild. "You want answers? How do you expect me to find them when I have hardly anything to work with?"
Wilson looked less irate, now, which she supposed was a good thing.
"But you're a magic scholar." He said, uncertainly.
Neriesse rolled her eyes at him. "Compared to the so-called scholars of today, I suppose so. But my knowledge just scratches the surface of what the scholars of the past knew. And I hardly have anything from that past to use for reference and study." She finished regretfully.
The Weapon looked somewhat abashed. "Oh." Was all he said.
Neriesse could tell that that was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get. She sighed, and said, "You may tell King Zachary that I need time...and access to more information. Maybe if I could talk to those who saw the Eletian, talked to him, saw him work his magic, then I might be able to figure out what his methods and motives were."
*And who and what he was,* she thought.
Dezima could *sense* it.
The aftereffects of her vision caused a shiver to go down her spine. But it was impossible...the Gray One no longer existed. Karigan had destroyed the corrupt Eletian. Or at least, it had appeared that way. A chill went down Dezima's back. Karigan had destroyed the Eletians body, forcing Shawdell's spirit to inhabit the body of the king's treachorous brother. But Karigan had defeated the spirit of Shawdell in a "transitional place" by severing his link to Amilton. Karigan had seen the Eletian fade from existence, watched as the last of his life force disintegrated into nothingness.
*There must have been another potential carrier,* Dezima thought. *Someone who was overlooked. But who?*
The Gray One had been able to survive because the gift of power he had given Amilton provided him with a link to the wayward prince. Captain Mapstone had assured Dezima that any others who might have received any unnateral gifts from the Eletian had either been captured, or killed. But Dezima had a sinking feeling that when he was planning his ascension to power, the Eletian would not have left himself without alternatives, no matter how unlikely a situation might've seemed at the time. He would have prepared for any senario; even that of his own defeat. Oh, he would never have considered it possible, of course, but he would have a backup plan nonetheless. He was, after all, and Eletian. Who could guess how many centuries he had been waiting to move, planning his strategy to the finest details. Someone with so much knowledge and experience would always have something to fall back on. Perhaps Mapstone and the others were correct, and Amilton was the Eletian's backup plan. But that was doubtful . Very doubtful.
Someone as cunning as Dezima suspected Shawdell was would have several more tricks up his sleeve, layers of plans to fall back on till his enemy had lost and wouldn't even know until several encounters later. No, Dezima was sure, Sacoridia had not seen the last of Shawdell the Eletian and his army of nightmares.
~~~~~~~~~~
"What have you found?"
"Nothing." Neriesse said abruptly, annoyed at the interruption.
She glanced up at the Weapon who stood before her. He stood stiffly in front of her desk, wanting, no doubt, to be away from the dusty, book filled room in which Neriesse conducter her research.
He was young for a Weapon, she noted, and could be called handsome with bright, light blue eyes and sandy blond hair. She wondered idly how many girls had fallen for his piercing ice-blue gaze. At the moment, having his attention focused on you was not an extremely pleasant experience due to the scowl that he now wore. Obviously, Wilson was not pleased with Neriesse's answer.
"I was told you were some kind of expert on magic." He ground out, "You've been frowning at these old books for a long time and yet you still are unable to tell us anything of value."
Was it merely Neriesse's imagination, or was his voice rising a bit in volume? He was probably under as much stress, if not more, as many of the other palace occupants. She felt a brief moment of sympathy, which vanished when he continued to speak.
"You were spoken so highly of, and yet, you still have not been able to give us any anwers. Perhaps," he continued, oblivious to the glare setting itself on Neriesse's face. She suspected what was coming next, and tensed. "Maybe that old women, Dezima was fooled into seeing more in you than there is. She promised us a scholar. Instead, she gives us you."
"Oh, spare me your stupidity." She snapped, losing her patience. How dare he call her mentor a fool!
Resentment kindled in his eyes and Neriesse forced herself to calm down. Pushing away an image of Wilson with "oaf" tattooed acrosst his forehead, she mentally counted to three. Technically, she was supposed to count to ten whenever she lost her temper, but who wanted to so much time in the middle of a conversation?
"Dezima is no fool." She said, struggling to keep her tone relaxed and mild. "You want answers? How do you expect me to find them when I have hardly anything to work with?"
Wilson looked less irate, now, which she supposed was a good thing.
"But you're a magic scholar." He said, uncertainly.
Neriesse rolled her eyes at him. "Compared to the so-called scholars of today, I suppose so. But my knowledge just scratches the surface of what the scholars of the past knew. And I hardly have anything from that past to use for reference and study." She finished regretfully.
The Weapon looked somewhat abashed. "Oh." Was all he said.
Neriesse could tell that that was the closest thing to an apology she was going to get. She sighed, and said, "You may tell King Zachary that I need time...and access to more information. Maybe if I could talk to those who saw the Eletian, talked to him, saw him work his magic, then I might be able to figure out what his methods and motives were."
*And who and what he was,* she thought.