S.Y. 316.4
(January 18, 2003)
Stalagmite
By Zed
Zed pulled against the chains binding him to a stalagmite. He touched his mana. The power of majika ran through every fiber of his body. Words of Power ran through his head. He pulled again ignoring the pain in his wrists. Zed looked at the darkness.
*If I had but one lump of sulfuric ash. I could burn the chain. An interesting puzzle for a wizard. No reagents. There must be something I can do.*
Zed pulled again. The chains were un-giving. His wrists were undoubtedly getting purple. Fatigue and pain where eating at his spirits. The powerful mage was not accustomed to being helpless.
*Pain is an annoyance that should be dismissed like a stray hair across one’s face. There must be something I can do...*
Zed considered his surroundings. Rock. Dirt. Darkness. “In Lor” he said aloud. His words echoed off the walls around him. “Damned old fool! Ye should not be wasting energy.”
*There must be something I can do... If I had me scrying crystal I could at least learn the status of the war.*
Zed squirmed in his bonds arching his neck. His nose brushed the smooth stalagmite.
*Stalagmites are made of calcite and aragonite. Aragonite is crystalline.*
Zed focused his mana. The damp sickly smell of the cave wall threatened to disrupt his concentration. An ever so dim glow appeared in the wall. It had the immediate effect of lifting his hopes. The glow faded. Zed recalled an old memory. Neztam of Wind was teaching a young Zed about the art of Scrying. He was a disagreeable man. Zed could remember the foul smell of his breath. He claimed that eating mandrake root was good for a mage. Neztam had laughed at Zed as the student threw up on the marble floor. He leaned close to Zed’s face. Black teeth and the smell of mandrake and were repulsive.
“Concentrate boy. Forget about the crystal itself” he hissed. “Tis nay the tool but the craftsman that that creates the art.”
Zed focused again.
The glow returned to the stone. Zed pictured Skara Brae in his mind.
A blurred image flicked into being.
The crystal did make a difference but Zed was thankful for Neztam’s
lessons none the less.
Images and sounds of battle filled the vision. Screams and battle cries, blood and fire.
*The war does not go well. I must free meself so I can help defend the city. There must be something I can do.*
Through the blurry
images and mostly un-intelligible sounds Zed saw a man he did not recognize.
The imposing figure cut down two rangers then 
smirked.
Another ranger swore at the man and yelled: “Thou shall pay for
this something Entreri.” Zed could not make out the whole
name.
*Entreri... Respect and fear flashed in Zed’s mind. Clan Entreri have not bothered with Skara in many, many years. What could it mean. If this Entreri is helping the Dark Alliance then things are changed.*
*I must seek my old acquaintance Nadir Entreri. He will tell me what I must know... Or he will laugh in my face. Twas folly to speculate about the doings of the Entreri.*
Zed pulled on the chains again, pain ripped through his arm and into his shoulder.
*I will have to free meself if I am to seek out anyone. I have learned little of use. Indeed I now have something new to worry at... Bah. I am a fool to have wasted energy.*
The air suddenly changed. Someone was coming... Zed let the image fade...