Chapter Two - Sir Reginald
The cult’s dark lair lit up as Reginald’s magnificent
flaming sword impacted with the blade of the cultist; Sparks and embers spilled
forth as the two weapons held each other back from their wielders. Reginald was
able to use his strength and superior position to push the cultist back against
the hard exposed stone of the wall. Just as he was preparing to finish off this
evildoer another cultist came at him from the side with a sacrificial dagger.
For a second, Reginald thought that this was it, his time wondering this land,
righting wrongs, saving fair maidens, and defeating evil at every turn was at
an end. Then the dagger wielding cultist was struck by a blindingly bright arch
of lightening erupting from the staff of Keygoire the wizard. Reginald raised
his knee into the gut of the cultist up against the wall, forcing him to loosen
his guard, from here it was a simple thing to dispatch the foe.
After the gruesome deed was done, Reginald turned to Keygoire, and smirked.
“Thank you, kind wizard.”
“Never mind that you fool, find the Orb of Regna so we can leave this foul pit
of evil!” The wizard’s voice was unmistakably old, but in no way fragile.
Keygoire was afterall, ancient by any measure of time. His birth had occurred
some time within the First Age, making him at least four thousand years old.
His wisdom was beyond measure and having him along for this adventure just
punctuated the importance of this orb.
Reginald scanned the surroundings for any more threats. They had downed five of
the cultists. The evil lair they found themselves within was large enough for
at least twenty men, which meant that more may be lurking in the shadows, or
had left on some sort of mission away from their base.
“Aye, I will begin my search for the artefact, but keep your wits about you,
there may yet be more of these foul cultists lurking within the shadows.”
“I don’t need lessons from one as young as you, Sir Reginald. One doesn’t live
to my age without keeping his wits about him. Now search for that orb. I sense
its presence around here.” The wizard readjusted his hat, it was a rather
outdated thing, yet Reginald had never seen him without it. It was a strange
hat, with a wide brim, and a tall pointy tip, similar to Keygoire’s robes, it
was a dusty purple colour. After the wizard was happy with the way his hat was
sat upon his head, he moved over to a section of the wall and placed his hand
up against it. The strange wizard moved along the wall, searching for something
unseen. After a while he stopped and moved his head to the wall to listen for
some unheard sound. “Come over here, Sir knight, I believe I’ve stumbled upon a
hidden room. I sense a dark presence beyond, prepare thyself for combat.”
Reginald took up a defensive stance in front of the wall, his mighty flaming
sword burned away, illuminating his noble white tunic, and reflecting off the
fitted plate armour underneath.
With his hand against the false wall Keygoire muttered some ancient magical
words, as he did so one of the many rune tattoos that covered his skin began to
glow. In response to this, the wall shifted back with the low, loud noise of
stone shifting against more stone. After the wall had moved back around two
feet, it changed direction and shifted to the right. This revealed a small,
cramped hiding space, with a lone cultist within, holding onto a strange dark
orb. To say this orb was dark did the thing a disservice, it wasn’t dark in tone
or colour, but rather it seemed to be made up of darkness itself, like a void
in the world. It’s very presence unnerved Reginald, but he stood strong and
firm.
“Hand over the orb, you evil fiend!” Reginald’s demand was the only lifeline he
was willing to offer this cultist. The strange man seemed to be weakened by the
orb, like its very presence was draining him, undoing him at some fundamental
level. As Reginald looked the strange man in the eyes, he saw a longing to be
rid of the evil thing, yet he gripped it tight.
“If, if, if, I, erm, hand it over, you must protect me. M, m, m, mighty Tywyll
will want me d, d, dead, for this b, betrayal!” The man’s voice was small, and
scared.
“You have my word, on my honour as a Knight of Solas, if you hand over the Orb
of Regna, I will do all I can to see you protected.” Reginald lowered his
sword, to show the frightened man that his word was one to trust, he then held
out his hand to take the orb. The strange man seemed to hesitate, but
eventually, he did hand over the orb. As the strange, void, non-space rolled
free from the cultists hands and made contact with Reginald’s gauntlet, it
changed. Where once there was only a gap in the world, now there was light,
bright, brilliant light, that filled Reginald’s heart with joy.
“Hand it over, Sir Knight.” The request came from Keygoire. Reginald wanted to
simply lose himself, to spend an eternity staring into the radiant, healing
energy of the orb’s light. As much as he knew he should hand it over to the
wizard, he found himself unable to do so. That light, it was just too
magnificent to surrender.
Then it was gone, as Keygoire threw a piece of cloth over the orb and quickly
scooped it up and out of Reginald’s grip. He then dropped it into a pouch that
he kept tied to the waistline of his inner robes.
“What was that light? I found myself unable to break my gaze upon it.” Reginald
was glad that the orb was hidden from his view, he worried that if it was still
within his grasp, the temptation may be too much.
“That’s too be expected, and there’s no shame in it, Sir Knight, for the Orb of
Regna is a view from this realm, into the realm of the gods. When this cultist
had hold of the orb it connected him to Uffern, the realm of Tywyll, but when
it encountered you, a devoted Knight of Solas it allowed you to gaze upon the
splendour of Neamh, the realm of Solas herself.” The wizard placed his hand
upon Reginald’s shoulder, to emphasise his next point. “Such sights are not
meant for mortal eyes. It’s best hidden deep within the vaults of Biblio, where
no mortal may suffer its temptation.” The wizard then turned to face the small
nervous cultist, still hiding within his secret cubby hole. “What about this
one? Do you intend to bring him along with us?” As Keygoire asked this question,
the cultist looked at Reginald with pleading eyes.
“Of course I do. I gave him my word, and my word is my bond, dear wizard.”
Keygoire just grunted at the response. Then he tapped the cultist with his
staff, as it contacted the man a rune etched into its bark glowed with magical
energy as some spell was cast. The cultist then vanished. No. He hadn’t disappeared;
he had changed shape. In the space once occupied by the cowardly cultist, stood
a rather confused looking mouse. Keygoire simply picked the rodent up by the
tail and turned towards Reginald. All the wizard found as he looked at his
partner was a confused stare. Keygoire muttered something under his breath
before pulling an empty pouch from a pocket in his robes, placing the mouse
inside it and then he handed the package over to Reginald. “You’ll find our guest
easier to carry this way.” Reginald returned his flaming sword back to its
scabbard, then took the pouch from the wizard and tied it to his belt. He
didn’t know what to say to such a strange sight, so he said nothing at all. But
he made a mental note to never upset the wizard.
The two then made their way out of the hidden base, that had been concealed
within an unassuming cave. It would be a long ride back to Athelbury, the
capital city of the Quilldrake kingdom.
As Reginald felt the warmth of the evening sun upon his skin, he felt proud of
his role in this successful adventure. As both he and Keygoire strode away from
the den of evil, Quinn, his knightly squire emerged from a large rocky cliff,
pulling the party’s three horses along with him. Reginald would be glad to put
some distance between him and this evil place.
© Robyn Timmons, 2025
