Ramalad's body was finally beginning to fail him and just when the prize was so near. He had the Mirror of Portals. He knew the location in Heinrich's tower. He just needed the strength to get himself there. No. Himself and that party of adventures.
He would need their help to secure his journey and acquisition of the object. They are mercenaries they will help him for the right price. He was sure of that.
He continued to cough for another minute. He slowly raised himself back up and wiped the bloody spittle from his lips. He looked down and noticed his robes were drenched with sweat and blood again. His body was finally succumbing to the damage he had taken all those years ago. The damage from years of magical study of the darker arts. The damage taken from his cruel and unforgiving master. The damage he had taken from a spurned lover. The spells he had worked and failed trying to return home, to her.
There was a knock on his chamber door.
"Sir? Are you alright in there sir?"
"Yes! I'm fine!" Ramalad hissed.
"Alright sir we had heard the sound of something falling and the coughing. Do you need us to bring you anything?" the voice behind the door replied.
"Yes. Send word to the gentlemen I told you about. They are usually found in that inn...the Red Pony. Tell them it is time, and be quick about it."
The only reply was the sound of feet running down a flight of stairs.
Ramalad returned to his chair and once again looked upon the mirror. The view was that of an arctic tundra, then an arboreal forest, then a long lost city beneath the water, then a small town that could be anywhere, then a lake, now a library.
The elf raised his hands and began to speak in the strange language of magic. The mirror's image shifted, turned black and then an image of a dusty basement appeared.
Ramalad sat forward in his chair and smiled. He had found it again. He now knew the proper sequence of words.
He had found his way into the tower on the lake. The home of the long dead wizard Heinrich.