Entry 29: The fate of Robert Talespinner

Rachnar’s face was tight with worry as he pulled us aside, his voice low. “My son, Norgar, has gone missing from the party. My guards have searched everywhere, but there’s no sign of him.” His gaze swept over us, his eyes pleading. "You’ve helped us before. Will you help us again? Discreetly, of course."
 
Without hesitation, we agreed. How could we not? Rachnar handed over a small, intricate key, its metal cold in my palm. The moment I saw it, a spark of recognition flashed through me—it matched the set of keys we’d found in Robert Talespinner’s bag. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together.
 
I wasted no time, sending Fiachna out to scout the estate grounds, especially near the river. If the kidnappers tried to escape, that would be their most obvious route. Meanwhile, Luke, always quick on his feet, cast a locate object spell on the gemstone Norgar always wore. His eyes flashed with a surge of magic, and he nodded. “They’re close—north, and heading down.”
 
We hurried into the keep’s cellars, our footsteps echoing down the narrow stairwell. My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of fear and anticipation. We were on the right path—I was sure of it. But as I pushed open the first door, it exploded in a flash of fire and smoke. The blast sent us stumbling back, and I cursed under my breath. I really needed to stop rushing headfirst into danger.
 
Through the settling dust, we found ourselves in a dark, ominous chamber. Hooded figures stood in a circle, chanting, their voices a low, menacing hum. They were cultists, deep in a ritual to summon something far worse than we’d expected—a demon named Durzal. At the far end of the room, a towering golem loomed, its stone fists clenched, guarding the door beyond.
 
It was clear. We had just stumbled into something far more dangerous than a simple kidnapping.
 
Fortunately for us, the cultists weren’t the only ones with a flair for explosive magic. Luke, ever quick with his spells, sent a perfectly placed fireball into their midst, engulfing them in flames. Alistan and Liliana wasted no time either—blades flashing as they cut through the chaos with practiced precision. Meanwhile, the small but fierce fey I summoned darted between the enemies, wreaking havoc with a mischievous grin.
 
The cultists didn’t stand a chance. Within moments, the dark chanting had been silenced, and the ritual—whatever disastrous end it promised—was no more. But the victory was bittersweet. There were no other exits in the chamber, no secret passageways or clues to Norgar’s whereabouts. My pulse quickened with frustration. We were running out of time.
 
We hurried back upstairs, where Elsa greeted us with a raised brow and the much-needed comfort of healing magic. After a brief exchange, we pressed on, this time heading toward the northern side of the estate to search the outlying buildings.
 
The guard houses and surrounding structures seemed innocent enough—until we reached the stables. It was there, hidden beneath the straw and dust, that we found another entrance leading into the cellar. No sooner had we stepped inside than we were ambushed.
 
Three half-dragons, red-scaled and snarling, launched themselves at us with terrifying speed. Their fiery breath engulfed us in a wave of scorching heat, and pain exploded across my body as the flames licked at my skin. This battle was brutal. Each strike felt heavier, each spell more desperate, as we fought to keep ourselves from being overwhelmed.
 
But we didn't back down. After what felt like an eternity of struggle—dodging fiery blasts and returning blows—we managed to bring the creatures down. The aftermath left us all gasping for air, bruised, burned, and utterly exhausted. But we were alive. Barely.
 
We found ourselves in a tense debate, weighing the need for rest against the urgency of our mission. We were battered, burnt, and aching, but every moment spent recovering could mean Norgar slipping further from our grasp. I summoned Fiachna once again, sending her on a critical mission to fetch reinforcements. The room we were in had yielded a hidden passage—another clue in this twisted hunt. If things went south, at least Rachnar would know where we had gone.
 
With grim resolve, we pressed on.
 
The hidden passage led us deep beneath the estate, into ancient tunnels that seemed to stretch on forever. Soon, it became clear that we had wandered into the remnants of a long-lost civilization. Forgotten ruins lay beneath the city of Keralon, buried under centuries of progress. Dust and debris littered the ground, and the walls were etched with symbols no one had seen in eons. It was eerie, walking through a place lost to time, but we had no choice but to follow the trail.
 
As we ventured deeper, the oppressive silence was shattered by the sound of steel slicing through the air. Dadroz, at the front, crumpled to the ground—ambushed by an assassin cloaked in shadows, two imps flanking him with wicked grins. Everything happened so fast. By the time the shock wore off, both Gael and Dadroz were down, bleeding profusely from deep wounds.
 
There was no time for hesitation. I rushed forward, heart pounding, and threw myself into the chaos. My hands worked quickly, summoning healing magic to stem the blood flowing from their wounds. Meanwhile, Alistan, Liliana, and Luke sprang into action, striking down the imps and turning their wrath on the assassin.
 
It wasn’t an easy fight, but the others took care of him swiftly. By the time I had stabilized Gael and Dadroz, our enemies lay defeated at our feet. It was another close call—far too close. But we had made it through, bruised but unbroken. For now.
 
As I patched up Gael and Dadroz, my hands moving automatically through the familiar healing motions, Luke cast another Locate Object spell, focusing on Norgar’s gem. His face lit up with grim determination. "He’s close," he said, glancing down the darkened tunnel. "Not moving."
 
With fresh urgency, we pressed on, weaving our way through the ancient, abandoned tunnels and half-collapsed ruins. The air grew thick with the weight of ages, but our purpose drove us forward. At last, we stepped into a vast chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches. And there, waiting for us, was none other than Robert Talespinner—or at least, that’s who we thought he was.
 
He greeted us with a disarming smile, speaking in a tone far too friendly for the gravity of the situation. “I have no interest in fighting,” Robert said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’ll return Norgar to you, unharmed. But on one condition: let me use him in a ritual, just to borrow a bit of his draconic essence. No harm will come to him, I promise.”
 
The others began to argue with him, discussing terms, but a cold chill crept up my spine. Something about the way Robert spoke, the way his words flowed too smoothly, felt wrong. My instincts screamed that this was a trap. As the others debated, I reached out with my mind, probing carefully. My mind brushed the surface of his mind, and what I found confirmed my worst fears: he was only stalling for time, distracting us from whatever real plan was in motion.
 
“Stop talking,” I warned the others in a low voice. “He’s lying. He’s playing for time.”
 
Robert’s friendly smile faded instantly. With a snarl, he launched into an attack, his hands crackling with dark magic. The room erupted into chaos as we clashed, steel and spells colliding in a fury. But something was off—he wasn’t fighting like the cunning, elusive bard we had faced before. His movements were erratic, his attacks wild and unfocused.
 
Amid the chaos, Luke shouted, “This isn’t him! I’m sure of it!”
 
His words rang true. This didn’t feel like Robert. I pulled my mind deeper into the illusionary Robert’s thoughts, peeling back layers of deception. There, beneath the surface, I found the truth: this was no bard. This was a doppelganger, a magical shapeshifter delaying us while the real Robert escaped—or worse, carried out his own dark plans elsewhere.
 
When I revealed that the Robert before us was a fake, his entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the smooth-talking bard, replaced by a snarling, vicious combatant. But whatever strength he had was no match for our combined force. In a matter of moments, the doppelganger was knocked out cold.
 
With the fake Robert dispatched, we pressed on, our hearts pounding. Time was slipping through our fingers, and Norgar’s fate still hung in the balance. After navigating the remaining tunnels, we finally found the chamber where he was being held. The room was dominated by an ominous statue of a dragon, casting long, jagged shadows over the unconscious form of Norgar, who lay slumped before it. His gem glowed with a strange, pulsating light, almost as if it were alive.
 
Six drakes, their scales gleaming in the dim light, circled the room. They didn’t waste time attacking. The fight erupted, but despite the initial chaos—and Alistan’s brief stumble—we cut them down swiftly. Their bodies hit the floor with dull thuds, and the chamber fell silent once more.
 
But the real challenge still lay ahead. Norgar remained unconscious, and there was something deeply wrong about the way the gem glowed. A sense of foreboding filled the air, like we were standing in the middle of a ritual that hadn’t yet finished. I hesitated to touch him, afraid of what moving him—or the gem—might do. The faint hum of magic echoed in the back of my mind, urging caution.
 
I reached out with my magic, and the truth slowly revealed itself. The gem wasn’t just glowing—it was acting as a conduit, a vessel for Norgar’s soul. His essence was being drained, siphoned away toward the statue in some twisted ritual. A knot of dread formed in my chest. If we didn’t stop this soon, we might lose him for good.
 
Luke, ever quick on his feet, didn’t waste a moment. With a few carefully chosen words, he dispelled the dark magic. The light from the gem flickered once, twice, then died, and the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The transfer of Norgar’s life essence had stopped.
 
I suggested we take Norgar back to the embassy, prioritizing his safety before indulging any further in the mysteries of the ruins. Some were clearly tempted to explore more, but Norgar’s well-being had to come first. As we trudged back through the debris, a familiar voice echoed from the shadows—Robert’s. Yet, something about it had changed; it was deeper, wearier, and carried a menace that chilled the air. He urged us to leave Norgar behind, his tone almost pleading. But when we refused, standing our ground, we saw something enormous stir in the distance.
 
Robert, once our ally, had already succumbed to the transformation. He was no longer the bard we had once known, but a dragon—massive, terrifying, and relentless. His form shifted in the dim light, scales rippling as he unfurled his enormous wings. I felt the ground tremble beneath his weight, and instinct screamed in my mind—this was not a fight we could win, not here, not now.
 
"The ruins will slow him down," I suggested, knowing the cramped spaces would hinder the dragon’s movement. Without hesitation, we bolted through the narrow tunnels, hearing the dragon's frustrated roars echo behind us. My instincts proved correct; despite his size and strength, Robert couldn’t pursue us swiftly through the ruins. We emerged into the cool night air, hearts pounding, as the distant roars grew faint.
 
Waiting at the entrance were the embassy guards, looking bewildered but relieved to see us. One sprinted off to inform Rachnar of our return, while the others ushered us to the chapel, where we could finally get some healing. It seemed like we could finally relax, but that was far from the truth.
 
As soon as we had settled, something felt wrong. I noticed the gem Norgar had carried—it had started glowing again. The faint shimmer quickly grew brighter, and just as Dadroz’s keen instincts picked up on tremors in the ground, I knew something was coming. Without a second thought, I grabbed the gem, its energy pulsating in my hand, and gave it to Fiachna.
 
"Take it to the palace, as fast as you can," I whispered urgently. If Robert was after the gem, he wouldn’t get it—not while we still had a chance to protect it. As Fiachna darted into the sky, I could only hope she would make it in time, and that we had bought ourselves a little more time against whatever Robert had become.
 
Moments later, the ground in the far corner of the chapel erupted in an explosion of stone and dust. From the gaping hole crawled a massive, draconic monstrosity—Robert, transformed and seething with fury. His roar echoed through the chapel, shaking the very walls. Before any of us could react, two more drakes joined the fray, their eyes burning with malice.
 
But Alistan, our steadfast knight, was already in motion. Without a word, he charged at the monstrous dragon, sword raised high, his rage and determination finally finding their outlet. The clash was brutal and swift. Alistan fought with such ferocity that even Robert, now a towering dragon, couldn’t keep up. With every strike, Alistan drove Robert back, delivering blow after devastating blow. The massive beast barely had time to retaliate before collapsing under the relentless onslaught.
 
But the battle was far from over. The two drakes, furious at the death of their leader, unleashed their vengeance upon us. Flames erupted from their jaws, washing over Alistan and me. I barely had time to register the heat before I was knocked unconscious, the world going black.
 
When I came to, I was being dragged back to my feet, the familiar hands of my allies pulling me from the edge of oblivion. The battle raged on, and though battered, we fought with everything we had. Within moments, the drakes lay defeated, their flames extinguished, leaving only the aftermath of the destruction they had wrought.
 
As the dust settled, the chapel was in ruins, the floor cracked and scorched, the air still thick with the scent of burnt stone. The guards finally burst through the doors, wide-eyed at the carnage. Behind them came a priest, who wasted no time in attending to our wounds. His magic was a welcome relief, the sharp pain ebbing away as he mended our broken bodies.
 
While we were being treated, Norgar stirred. Slowly, he blinked awake, his eyes dazed and confused. He groaned as he sat up, clearly disoriented. "The last thing I remember..." he said, his voice raspy, "I was in the gardens. I just wanted some fresh air."
 
We quickly filled him in on the events that had unfolded since his abduction, from Robert's betrayal to his transformation into a dragon. Norgar listened in disbelief, his hand resting on the gem that had caused so much trouble. When I summoned Fiachna back, I placed the gem in his hand. It pulsed faintly, no longer glowing with ominous energy but still brimming with the weight of all that had happened.
 
Norgar looked up at us, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady. "I owe you all my life."
 
The ball had long since ended by the time we were escorted to the main dining hall, where Rachnar and several prominent knights, along with our escorts, were waiting for us. As we gathered, still sore and weary from the battle, we recounted the details of our harrowing search and rescue of Norgar. Rachnar listened carefully, his expression thoughtful as we explained everything—from Robert’s betrayal to the final battle in the chapel.
 
When we finished, Rachnar took a deep breath and explained the significance of the gems they carried. These gems, he revealed, were more than just family heirlooms. They were used to safeguard the souls of the people who carried them. If they were to fall in battle, the gem would hold their essence, so it could be returned home and reunited with their ancestors. This explained why Norgar’s gem was so tightly connected to his soul, and why the cultists had tried to use it as a conduit in their dark ritual.
 
Sir Donovan, standing at the head of the knights, congratulated us for our success in bringing Norgar back safely. He praised our efforts, acknowledging the immense service we had done for the city of Keralon. Then, with a knowing smile, he informed us that we could soon expect a summons from the throne itself, to be personally thanked by the king and queen. This, he said, would also likely mean that Luke, Liliana, and Gael would finally receive their knighthoods—even without completing the usual official quest.
 
After the knights departed, Rachnar promised to work closely with Dan to help the people of Ravensfield. His voice was earnest, and I could see a new resolve in him, strengthened by the ordeal. Elsa, feeling responsible for the breach in security that had allowed the cultists access to the embassy, offered to replace every lock, ensuring nothing like this would happen again.
 
As the night drew to a close, we exchanged our farewells. Exhausted, we each made our way back to our homes, eager for the comfort of our beds. After all the battles and intrigue, we had earned a long, peaceful rest—and perhaps, for now at least, a brief respite from the chaos.