Touch of Honor

Touch of Honor: A Red Web - Chapter 4

     Two wooden doors with curved iron handles stood at the entrance to the mansion. Broken windows and mossy vines edged along the sides of the second floor, the insides of which they couldn't view.

     Lemli opened the decrepit and rotten wood.

     As the doors creaked and scrapped against the floor, a five foot in length landing with a split staircase was revealed to the adventurers. The stone stairs descended into what looked like to be a kitchen area with a smaller door beyond it. The ascending section of the stairs bent around a corner after about a dozen steps, concealing where it leads. Candles were lit along the walls and were strewn about the kitchen tables and countertops along with other pots, and cooking ware.

     Lemli could hear faint voices down the lower staircase, and past the door beyond the kitchen area. The voices of disgruntled men.

     Spruce began to walk towards the ascending stairs but an arm shot out in his path.

     "Down there. There are people behind that door." Lemli said in a low voice. He heard the men, about three or four, behind the door speaking of various things regarding the house and its surrounding property. Talk of how it's been abandoned for centuries and how it belonged to a knight who perished during the hour of the orc and the siege of Phandal.

     Spruce followed behind Lemli down the steps, his footsteps barely audible.

     The two had no need to discuss a plan of action as it was well understood what would transpire once they had reached the door.

     Lemli placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathe it on those who stood on the other side. He reached out to open the door when he felt a swift and terrifying presence. A type of magic he had seldom experienced was quickly upon him. His arm retreated back to his torso as he felt a barrage upon his mind in a sudden flutter of thoughts, thoughts that were not his own.

     Someone or something had infiltrated his mind. With a jerking motion he took a hefty step backwards knocking into the monk behind him, causing him to crash into the countertop, knocking a pot off of its surface.

     "Lem?" The monk crashed into the pot sending it onto the hard stone floor, making a shattering crash that echoed throughout the chamber.

     The voices behind the door ceased.

     A new voice spoke in Lemli's head as if speaking directly in front of him. The speech echoed in his mind, with a slow, gravely, startled tone. "You can feel me?" The voice said. It appeared to be as surprised as Lemli was.

     The voice didn't speak in any tongue or language. Lemli simply knew what was conveyed to him, as surely as he would comprehend his own thoughts. It was as if the concept of thought itself was the language of choice. Lemli knew what magic afflicted him, but to meddle with one's mind out of sight is a very old and powerful magic. Or so he thought, as his head pounded in pain. He dropped to one knee. The construction of his own thoughts acted as a deterrent to the mental invader, for just as he began to respond to the voice, the feeling faded. Now beginning to come to his senses, Lemli was angry. He was not angry at the four redrags, who in his daze, had opened up the door and had drawn their weapons, but angry for being caught off guard to such a telepathic trespass.

     "Lem?" Spruce shouted in frustration, concern and confusion. He noted the four red rags, now charging at them, and took action. "Just stay there for a second." He commanded the half elf.

     Lemli reached for his sword across his hip in his daze but was too late. Spruce had already struck the first and last blows against their aggressors.