(FREE COMPLETE BOOK) Wothlondia Rising, Beginnings Saga, Book 1

Chapter 6, Distant Familiarity (Events leading up to Prologue of CotFK)

Chapter 6

Distant Familiarity

 “What if we were to attempt to recover the phylactery ourselves?” Tiyarnon voiced aloud what all three of them had been thinking.

“I been itchin’ fer somethin’ to hit fer days now,” Rolin responded in typical dwarven fashion, adjusting his helmet atop his head as he spat outthe words. He scratched his ever-whitening beard and looked to Nimaira, who was hosting the meeting now that she had finished teaching a class. Her silver hair hung over her shoulder, tied back in a pony-tail. The half-elf sat in a chair adjacent to her desk and pondered the question, her eyes glancing down at a parchment she held that evidently demanded her attention, before turning to face her guests.

Nimaira Silvershade was the current Guild Mistress of Wizardry, deservedly so, and was quite possibly one of the most dominant mages in all of Wothlondia. Here at the University of Wizardry, she was responsible for instructing and teaching the highest level of spell-casting to those who had passed their previous courses. She taught everything from the lowest to the most advanced spells available within the school of the mystic arts, and could be found tutoring novices as well as the very best of the best.

As the half-elf woman reviewed the parchment, attempting in vain to give it the proper consideration it needed, she unconsciously crossed her legs. The lower half of her garment slid aside to reveal a shapely leg that neither Tiyarnon nor Rolin could miss. How naturally beautiful the half-elves were, Tiyarnon thought, shaking his head in admission as he admired her beauty. There was no denying that Nimaira was stunning. In fact, she was one of the most attractive people Tiyarnon had ever laid eyes upon, but she was extremely unassuming when it came to her attire as she usually wore robes that covered most of her body, especially while she was teaching.

He read her face as it turned slightly red in embarrassment at the incident and he looked away to allow her to recover. Rolin, however, did not.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’? I ain’t seen a beautiful woman a’fore? We got plenty of ’em in me clan at Eisenhaum,” Rolin added, with a chuckle from Tiyarnon. The dwarf was referring of course to the city of dwarves within the Brimstone Mountains which the Hardbeards called their home, as had Rolin once, many decades ago. “Some of ’em even got beards!”

“I will give it a go,” answered the half-elf to the High Priest’s initial question concerning the phylactery, while smiling at the dwarf’s comment. She then pulled the whole of her silvery hair out of her pony-tail and shook it free. She proceeded to make a ridiculous face, further poking fun and allowing herself a certain freedom that she’d experienced over the years with these two, her closest friends.

“If your frail human body can handle it,” she added in a teasing way, directing her comment specifically to Tiyarnon, who rolled his eyes and coughed as the half-elven woman laughed in a genuine manner. It was common knowledge to Rolin and the half-elf that Tiyarnon was at least one hundred years old. This was universally old for a human, but the High Priest of the Sun God had seemed to slow his aging process in his early forties. The other two knew this because they had traveled the whole of Wothlondia together, prior to the assault of Ashenclaw and the scorching drakes. But how he had done it was a strange and unknown mystery to them both, as Tiyarnon had never offered an explanation for it, nor did they press the issue.

Nimaira rubbed her eyes and refocused on the task set before her now. “Rumor has it that they were seen by several eyewitnesses heading south out of Oakhaven?”

“Aye,” Tiyarnon said, nodding. Rolin was mirroring this gesture as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“There be more to this than meets the eye, don’t ye be doubtin’,” the dwarf added, while wiping his nose and scratching his chin.