The Lost Castle
Synopsis
Three adventurers hunt the lost Castle Emrovall for its fabled amulet of untold power. But the Castle still has some secrets it is not ready to give up.
Chapter 1
CRACK! The sound of splintering wood echoed out of the shadowy entrance as Grimgor’s booted foot split the door from its corroding hinges. His companions, the mage Lienya of Adelsbrun and Syala Nightshade (a thief, but only her friends get away with saying it out loud) crowded around him to peer into the darkness. “Come on,” said Grimgor quietly, “no sense waiting now.“
The door they’d broken was a wicker-gate in huge pair of carved oak doors the height of three men. The cavernous entrance hall into which they now stepped stretched away in front of them, its far reaches lost in dust and darkness. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom from the bright morning light which filtered through the dense trees outside, details emerged. A breathtaking vaulted ceiling arced far above their heads, hints of faded colour suggesting its former glory, ranks of fluted columns soaring up to meet the vaulting.
The hall was dominated by twin staircases ascending to unseen heights, but Grimgor kept in mind their purpose: the amulet of Emrovall. And this, if their source was to be believed, was the lost—now found—Castle Emrovall. The seat of the mighty Emrovall family for centuries, their power—so it was now widely believed—stemming from the eponymous artifact. Then, centuries ago and all of a sudden, that power waned to nothing. Their kingdom fractured into warring families for two generations, their wealth divided up amongst petty nobles. But the fabled amulet was never found and, eventually, their castle too was left to fall to ruin.
Remarkably though, the castle was not a ruin, even as it was in the middle of a wild forest. The door they broke through was not rotten, the walls seemed as stout as ever, and the sconces and candelabras adorning the walls still shone dully in the filtering light, as if they had gone unpolished for several months, rather than several lifetimes. Some strange power of the Emrovall family still held sway here, Grimgor decided, and adjusted his pack uneasily. “Let’s find somewhere to leave our gear,” he whispered, and Syala shot him a glance that said she thought him foolish for it. They started moving at his suggestion though, Grimgor following behind. Their footsteps echoed through the huge space though, and Grimgor silently affirmed that whispering seemed the best policy.
In front of him, the soft rustling of Lienya’s midnight-blue robe seemed thunderous, but in front of her Syala crept, moving noiselessly in her trademark form-fitting leather trousers and jerkin. The first room they tried seemed to be a guard room—a rack for holding weapons lined one wall and a small holding cell could be seen in one corner. It was also absolutely full of junk—scraps of fabric filled the cell, barrels containing what appeared to be broken pots crowded behind a desk, and there was barely room for Grimgor and Lienya to fit in at the same time. “Why did you have to follow me in here?” he grumbled, winking at the lithe thief, and earning him an eye-roll from the curvier sorceress. They had more luck with the next door they tried on the same corridor—a knocked-over bench and its size suggested it had been a mess or dining room.
“And as a bonus, we can Lienya’s arse in this room,” Syala smirked at Grimgor, who tried to stifle his guffaws.
“If you don’t get it through that pretty head of yours that just one of Grim’s cheeks is big as both of mine put together, I have a mind to slice his down to size, and magically attach the offcuts onto yours,” Lienya replied acidly. The joking pair might have worried more had any of her similar threats to either of them been carried out in the last decade.
Having left their bedding and most of their supplies, they set off in search of their prize.
The morning was spent with Grimgor breaking down doors and Syala picking locks—they were unconcerned with searching every inch until they had at least roughly mapped out this part of the castle. The vastness of the task ahead of them dawned as room after room echoed the first—pile upon pile, crate upon crate of detritus from a long-gone era.
Some evidence remained that the castle had once been occupied, not just used as a midden; ashes in fireplaces, a few battered pots and spoons in the kitchens. At first it looked though as if anything of significant value had long since been looted, but as they explored further this proved to be false. In the southern wing of the castle was a series of what appeared to be guest rooms and suites, and in the first of these, lit in soft green light from the glazed window and forest beyond, lay a spread of glinting jewels arranged on a dresser, its varnish peeling and flaking.
Syala was upon it instantly, holding a necklace up to the light and casting a discerning eye over it. “Well if we don’t find the Amulet, a necklace will do,” she said, softly.
“Not with how long we’ve gone without a proper job trying to find this place,” replied Lienya. The reminder sobered Syala quickly, as the plot had been years to this point, and for months now they had indeed been burning through their stash and not replenishing it. They moved on.
By the end of the day they had a good idea of every accessible room. While Syala had no doubt that there were more than a few hidden away, or accessed only through other rooms too cluttered to search for other doors, they could at least prioritise the most likely locations. Syala imagined what it would be like to lift the fabled amulet herself, from some forgotten chest or lockbox, placing it around her neck, adjusting the huge jewel—and huge it had better be—between her breasts. No-one knew how the amulet conveyed its power, but Syala imagined an ethereal voice speaking to her, whispering promises of influence, leisure and riches.
Syala knew Lienya thought it next to impossible that the amulet would still be in the castle, but hoped to find some shred of evidence—documents, diaries, or something more esoteric, uncovered through whatever hocus-pocus Lienya could bring to bear.
During the day she had seen treasures that would, no matter what Lienya said, cover their expenses and more. It was passing strange that the castle had not been more thoroughly looted. Exploring it had been a breathtaking experience—the enormous throne room stood out, with its massive columns stretching the full height of the castle, disappearing into the shadows of the ceiling, elegant, almost pristine painting in naturalistic forms adorning their smooth surfaces. The throne itself they had not approached, but even from a distance it somehow dominated that vast space from atop its marble steps. Late afternoon light set the gold and jewels in its chair afire as it streamed in through a window of delicate tracery, no doubt designed with exactly this effect in mind, so that the seat of Emrovallan power seemed about to ascend on a shaft of light.
They would thoroughly explore the throne room—and two other promising locations, what appeared to be the master bedroom and private suites and studies, and the library—at first light. Syala expected that a cool dawn light would be more conducive to a search, at the wrong time for architectural theatrics that might give them an unhelpful sense of awe. It’s easier to ransack someone’s house with your jaw off the floor, after all.
With night deepening, the three adventurers made their way back to their dining room base, their way lit with a soft blue-tinged light courtesy of Lienya. Syala cast a glance behind her to see their dancing shadows drawing up the rear. They kindled a small fire in the hearth and made a simple soup thickened with hardbread and adorned with some small pieces of dried meat. As they ate, they spoke in quiet voices. “This place is big. Bigger than I expected,” said Grimgor.
“Yes, and it’s going to take a long time to search thoroughly. We may have to resupply and come back before we’re done,” mused Lienya. “I wonder whether we risk opening a portal. It’d be much quicker to get back, but any two-copper mage coming through this forest is liable to wonder what’s going on.”
“We don’t risk it!” hissed Syala. “No-one’s found this place for hundreds of years. We can take our time.”
“Agreed,” said Grimgor, “we can take as long as we like. Even take other jobs if we—” Syala shoved him in the head,
“Forget what Lienya said in the guest rooms, we’ve seen more since then. We’ve got a decent haul here, amulet or no amulet.” Grimgor grunted his understanding.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it,” Lienya said without looking away from the dancing flames. “Why is there still so much wealth here?” She yawned and stood up from the bench they’d righted without waiting for an answer. “I’m tired. Don’t stay up too long bickering, we have work to be done at first light.” The other two nodded their agreement and turned to idle chat for a few minutes, before they too retired to their bedrolls. They weren’t too comfortable, but no-one wanted a night breathing the dust that had swirled when Syala sat on one of the plush beds.
As Syala waited for sleep to come, her mind was drawn back to the trudge back to the dining room, watching their shadows. In her mind, the shadows seemed to loom, rearing upwards and crowding the walls and ceiling of the corridor. That’s not how it had been, but... something about the scene caught her imagination. Had something been following them? Watching them from the shadows that shrank before the light, only to flow silently back as they moved on. Syala wondered what it would feel like to walk the halls of the castle with the amulet in her possession—would the spectres bow to the mistress of the amulet, or jealously try to steal it back. She saw her companions disappear around a corner, and she struggled to catch up to them, dogged by twisting, leaping shapes of ink. Reaching the corner, they were nowhere to be seen and, about to cry out, she glanced behind her at a corridor consumed by blackness and suddenly her voice caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her neck, finding the amulet there, between her bare breasts. She had to shout, or escape, but couldn’t let the shadow see that she was naked, she turned around and her limbs wouldn’t do she wanted, she struggled, struggled... and woke up, tangled in her bedding roll.
Grimgor’s snoring came regularly from across the room. The bench cast a dimly perciptible shadow on the opposite wall from the fire’s embers, and in her dream, Syala had somehow wriggled out of her undershirt. It was damp with sweat anyway, so she left it off, and returned swiftly to more restful slumber.
Chapter 2
The band woke with the dawn, enjoying that they didn’t need to repack all their gear with a place to return to. Their work started in the throne room. Despite its vastness the room itself held little of interest; a small table pushed against the wall may once have been where a clerk wrote down commands issued from the throne, but no longer. Of more significance were some of the chambers found through side-doors at the back of the throne room. Searching these uncovered a number of chests packed with scrolls recording all kinds of things. One of these was magically locked, exciting particular interest at what kind of valuable information it contained. It turned out to be records of taxes on cowherds. They didn’t read everything; just checked whether it was promising. Regardless, everything was carried back to the dining room for a thorough search later.
Whether to search the master suites or the library next was a point of contention resolved by drawing lots. The library won and they made their way across the building to its entrance. The previous day they had only ascertained that it was a library at all by, of all things, peering through the keyhole of the heavy door. The prosaic methodology belied intricate magic protecting the entrance and the room as a whole, so having dimly spied shelves they had moved on. Lienya was privately dreading dealing with the library. While the space seemed small enough from what they could tell, there would still be at least hundreds of volumes inside, and each one needed at least to be glanced at cursorily. And libraries in old castles with a history of magical artifacts were likely the exact kind of place to require an exhausting amount of her power to safely explore.
The trio arrived at the door to the library—a door which marked what lay behind it as special already; the wood was of a different design than the other intact doors they had found. Smaller, darker, carved and inscribed. Reaching her perception towards it gave Lienya a shock: besides the layering of many protective spells, the sheer age of the door and its oldest defences was shocking. “This may take some time,” said the sorceress, and her friends took the cue to sit down and wait.
Individually, each layer would have been easy for a skilled mage like Lienya to penetrate. The problem was unpicking each one without tripping over the others. She had no idea what they might do; trap spells like these were designed to be hard to scrutinise. There was every chance that triggering one could merely sound an alarm that no-one was alive to hear, but equally likely was that they would all be incinerated.
From the point of view of Grimgor and Syala, little was happening. Lienya stood still, her hands outstretched towards the door. She wore a look of focused concentration and sweat beaded on her furrowed brow but otherwise there was no sign of progress. She though could see the inroads she was making. It took two hours of painstaking mental effort, but without warning her eyes rolled into her head, the whites glowing, and she grunted. Nothing seemed to have changed but she walked up to the door, grasped the bronze knob and twisted. The door opened and she stepped inside, the others just behind her.
Inside the dim room a pit opened in Lienya’s stomach. The library was far larger than they had thought. Shelves stretched ahead of them and were lost in shadow. A spiral staircase could be seen leading to more floors above them. Searching this place alone would take weeks. Not only that, but the air was thick not just with dust but with the heavy presence of magic. A significant number of the books here were likely magical in nature and there could be more traps that she’d need to disarm. She gathered her friends just inside the entrance to break the news.
“Way I see it, we’re in now and it makes no difference if we spend a day sifting this pile or a day sifting whatever’s in the bedrooms,” said Grimgor after she had explained.
“I agree,” said Syala, “we’re here now.” This practical attitude was what had kept the group together through many years and tough spots. “We can see how we feel after a few days of searching.” With that, they set to it.
Progress was indeed slow, but faster than Lienya had feared: many of the ancient volumes were dry treatises of herbology, the geography of far-off lands or beastiaries of dubious accuracy. These they could mark as unlikely to be of any interest, aided by the comprehensible organisation of the library: for the most part a section was either relevant or not. Yet there were enough exceptions that they could not write them off entirely from a few examples, and a steady pile built up of potentially-useful books from otherwise useless sections, and vice-versa.
As the team searched, they moved through the library, exploring its further reaches. There was nothing on the first level to give reason to the security on the door, but the hints began to arrive as the ascended the spiral stair to the second. On this level, entire sections were filled with priceless books of alchemy and spells. Lulled by the previous level, Grimgor was tossed across the room when he unthinkingly withdrew a thick tome that was trapped with a simple contact spell. Luckily that was the least protection any of the trapped books were afforded—Grimgor would be died thrice over had he been less fortunate in his choice. “Don’t touch anything I haven’t checked. This is... going to be slow.”
“Lienya... how likely is it that any of these magic books have anything to say about the amulet?” Lienya paused. It wasn’t uncommon that she lost sight of the end goal when faced with a special challenge.
“It’s... possible. I had thought that what we would be looking for would be a... a history of the Emrovall family, nothing to do with magic. However. Books like these could discuss the amulet because it’s a magical object, and any mention might give as a clue about where it ended up. Furthermore...” Lienya paused, trying to conceal the lust from her eyes, “having seen some of these covers, and having felt the power coming from some of the others, there are single books here more valuable than all the jewelry Syala thought we didn’t notice her pocketing yesterday.” Syala rolled her eyes.
Grimgor huffed. “That’s good, but we’re here for the amulet. Let’s ignore the magical stuff for now unless it’s about the family or written by a member of the household. Agreed?” They all nodded. Even with that, progress through the second level was took the rest of the day and all of the following day, just categorising, with Lienya exhausted making safe the various trapped books that needed to be handled.
The third day of exploring the library saw the company break through the gate blocking access to the stairs up to the third and final level. Lienya took the lead up the narrow stone stairway, halting twice at the last moment to tease apart spells which would have left all three of them lifeless corpses falling back down the stairs. The second was really too close for comfort; she was so very tired.
Unharmed, they reached the top of the stairs and found themselves in a room much smaller than the lower levels of the library. Windows, somehow free from grime, showed a gorgeous view on the castle rooves and courtyards in the early morning sun. But their attention was not on the view, but rather on the object which dominated the room: a single lectern, a pedestal on which was placed a single volume, leather-bound and clasped with metal. “That is very magical,” said Lienya, immediately. Approaching it cautiously, she could make out faint runes invisible to the others. She read them in a whisper. “It says... it says ‘The Power of Emrovall’.”
Chapter 3
“Alright. I’ll do it,” she said. It had taken only a brief discussion: they had always known they’d need a flexible approach, that if they found something promising, their careful categorisation was to be abandoned. As the book was magical in nature, it was likely the others would not be able to read it anyway. There was a risk to Lienya, of course, but the potential reward from a book with such a title was obvious.
Carefully, she lifted the cover, her heart in her throat, expecting the flash followed by oblivion at any moment. Nothing happened. As she slowly opened the tome, her heart continued to pound. The heavy binding thumped onto the ornately carved lectern, a cloud of dust puffing up, dancing in a beam of light which struck the book from the window.
At first, Lienya was disappointed. The text seemed inscrutable—the letterforms familiar but not those of any script she actually knew. Something made her study it more closely though, and as she slowly turned the first few pages, the glyphs seemed almost to change when she wasn’t looking at them, tantalising her with the promise of meaning. It made little sense to perservere in trying to read a book written in a language she had never learnt, but that was not on her mind.
Lienya was unaware of how the shaft of light moved across the floor of the library, but as it crept away from her, understanding came to her in waves and she was reading almost fluently. What she read chilled her blood, and she let out a strangled cry as true understanding of her predicament dawned. “What?!” shouted Grimgor, at her side in a single step, but she was unable to answer, her only movement in her eyes scanning the pages.
The book was of a powerful and rare type, virtually unknown for hundreds of years. An entrapping grimoire, the mere act of reading it sufficient to cast a spell on the reader. It had been left in this library for one purpose: bait. As the magic worked its way into her mind and body, it unlocked the understanding of its own written form, leaving Lienya aware of what it was doing to her but powerless to stop it.
The first effect it had was to compel the reader to continue reading, no matter what. Grimgor, still concerned at her outcry, stepped up to the lectern and put his gloved hand on the cover. As he tried to close the tome though, Lienya’s slender hand shot out and gripped his thick wrist. The mage should have had no power over the physical strength of Grimgor, whose nickname “Ironfist”, while considered by his companions to be clichéd for a warrior, was not unearned. But power was flowing from the book into Lienya and she wrenched his hand inexorably away.
Through gritted teeth, Lienya managed to utter two words: “away... danger...” Syala, visible in her peripheral vision, hissed a laugh. “We’re not leaving, Lienya, we’ll find a way to fix... whatever is happening.” But her two friends knew little of magic, and Lienya now knew enough to know that only a skilled and powerful mage had a chance of freeing her. The first stage of the spell was all about ensuring she could not be interrupted—either voluntarily or by external means, and it was complete. The next stage began, and the colour rose to Lienya’s pale cheeks as her entire body flushed hot. Without tearing her eyes from the page, she read a perfect description of what she was doing: Lienya slowly removes her robe, letting it drop to the floor and ignoring the shocked questioning of her companions. She removes her belt, knife and pouch.
“What are you doing Lienya?” cried Syala, but Lienya didn’t react, enthralled by the narration of her own subjugation.
“Come to your senses! You can fight the spell!” said Grimgor, unsure of whether he should avert his eyes or look for some kind of opening.
Lienya is helpless to resist the spell as the eyes of her friends on her body ignite the fire within her, fueled by the grimoire she continues to read as she removes her undergarments, standing naked in the library. A look of desperation settling on her features was not narrated by the spellbook.
Lienya’s mind empties of thoughts except those she reads, those which the spell embeds in her brain. The spell allows her to wonder what fate awaits her after this phase is over, but does not enlighten her. Thoughts are replaced by one thing: arousal. Burning, pulsing need fills her slender body, wrapping softly around it before pulling tight, binding her tighter to the will of the magic. Of whoever wrote the magic. She feels her arms pulled behind her by invisible ribbons, becomes aware of a purple scintillating force surrounding her as she is bent over until her face is only a foot from the tome whose pages now turn of their own accord, faster and faster. Her feet are forced apart, and the bindings tighten ever more until she feels they are going to break her, until suddenly the pages stop turning and a crack breaks the library’s silence.
The next phase begins with Lienya gasping. The arousal building in her, building so much she cannot think, reaches a new level. She moans loudly, Grimgor cringeing at what is clearly happening. He cannot help drawing his eyes down Lienya’s delicious body: her full breasts hang from her heaving chest, pale nipples stabbing at the stone floor. Her narrow waist accentuates a round arse which shakes with her excitement. Her long legs tremble, and a droplet of moisture glistens and dangles from her swollen pussy. Where the bindings pull at her, an erotic tingling whispers over Lienya’s skin, her entire body’s sensitivity increased eightfold, aching for what that part of her brain which still functions anticipates.
A magical effect that Lienya once heard of students at the College being disciplined for begins to take form, and another moan escapes her lips as she feels something brush her pussy. The spell teases her for what feels like an eternity before pushing in, wrenching another wordless cry from her. It is a force of pure magic, touching all her most sensitive spots with exquisite precision enabled by the carefully crafted spell, each push into her extracting a beastial moan of delight. Soon it is joined by another feeling in her arse, and then her mouth too is forced open and her increasingly guttural pleasure echoes through the small room and down to the rows of dusty shelves, drool splattering the flagstones beneath the lectern. Syala is trying to ignore her body’s response to Lienya’s predicament, and Grimgor has his head in his hands, as their friend is ravished by invisible forces before their eyes.
She does not last long like this: only a minute or so passes before the building heat becomes unbearable. FUCK! she cries, and it is the first intelligible word she has uttered for a long time, and with that... the orgasm crashed over her, waves of ecstasy more powerful than anything she had before experienced. The bindings evaporated and she fell to the ground as a flash emanating from the book sent Grimgor and Syala reeling. Her hips bucked as aftershocks, each one more intense than any climax she’d had before that day, wracked her body with paroxysms of pleasure.
It was Lienya who came to her senses first, dimly realising that she once again had thoughts that were not fed to her by the tome, could move her limbs of her own volition, even as her friends were groggily shaking their heads. With growing horror she came to understand the final stage of the spell, and what the climax had done to her. With her last shred of will, she screamed to Grimgor and Syala, “GET AWAY!”
But it was too late: they magical shockwave had knocked them to the floor and they could not react as she rose to her feet, still gloriously nude, reached for the power now coursing through her. Murmured words in a forgotten and remembered language summoned bindings of crackling power, trapping them both instantly. Oh this was so much easier from within the body of a living person, and a powerful mage at that! Of course she had been unable to resist the bait set out against just such a possibility. A flick of Lienya’s fingers saw the pair floating half a foot off the ground, their limbs spread, and another word evaporated their clothes. “I have plenty of time, having waited so many centuries... I little more pleasure before work won’t go amiss!” She smiled wickedly at her bemused captors and stepped seductively towards them.