# Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)



## Lazybones

Hey there Story Hour forum, been a while.

For those who don’t know me, I was very active on this forum from roughly 2002 through 2010, posting stories that were a mix of fiction and campaign write-ups. Writing these stories was a way of familiarizing myself with new editions and campaign settings; I wrote 3e stories set in the Forgotten Realms, the Shackled City campaign path, and Rappan Athuk, and a 4e story set in some of the early published modules for that ruleset. My last story here was a write-up of an online campaign I ran that was a conversion of the original X-COM game using the 2002 CRPG _Neverwinter Nights_. Since then I’ve mostly been writing and self-publishing novels (I won’t do any advertising here but if anyone is interested send me a PM).

When 5th edition came out I bought the core books, but haven’t really had a chance to delve into them until recently. I decided to write this story in order to acquaint myself with the new rules. As with most of my past stories this one is fiction based on the rules, I did not actually have players run this or roll dice. I’ll include stat blocks and some of the other game information as appropriate.

When I was active here before I had a reputation as both a frequent poster and the “Cliffhanger King”; I’ll try to live up to both traditions. My current plan is to post updates on a M-W-F schedule.

Here we go.

* * * 

Book 1: YOU MUST GATHER YOUR PARTY…

Chapter 1

Two men, one young and one old, were sparring with wooden swords in the enclosed courtyard behind the smithy.  They went back and forth in the confined space, their boots kicking up swirls of dust that were caught in the violent sweeps of their weapons.  It was obvious from one look that both were smiths from their builds, their arms and chests chiseled with cords of muscle under taut flesh.  They had clearly just come from their labors inside, the younger man bare-chested and slick with sweat, the older wearing an old leather apron seared with black marks.  But an observer would quickly note that their sparring was not just an idle game.  The younger of the two looked to be barely past adolescence but he fought with an intensity that bespoke many long hours of practice.  His opponent was at least twice his age, but he too moved with a calm efficiency that caught the youth’s aggressive swings with parries that quickly turned into darting counterattacks.

The pace intensified rather than slowed as the session continued, the clack of blades forming a rapid staccato.  The two were so intent on their clash that neither appeared to notice the slender young woman who slipped through the half-open side gate.  She did not look like the type of person who would escape notice often.  The pale blonde hair that framed her features and toppled onto her shoulders didn’t fully hide the slightly pointed ears that suggested elvish blood in her heritage.  She was dressed in a light blue coat in a fashionable cut over gray trousers tucked into knee-high boots.  But as she turned through the gate the afternoon sunlight briefly blazed on something she was carrying: an exceptional silver lyre with seven strings.

The flash caught the attention of the younger man, who turned his head just as the elder launched into a decisive backhanded sweep.  The youth realized his mistake too late and threw up his weapon in a desperate parry.  The older man pulled back his stroke before it would have caromed off his opponent’s forehead, but the impact still knocked the practice sword from the young man’s grasp.  It flew across the courtyard and slid to a stop right in front of the visitor.

“Ah… sorry,” she said as both men turned to face her.

“Quite all right, Miss Leliades,” the older smith said.  “It appears we need to work on our concentration, in any case.”

The younger man colored slightly as he hurried over to recover his fallen weapon.  “Hi, Glori,” he said.

“Hey, Bredan.  Master Karras.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.  I could watch you two fight all day.”  She let her eyes flick over the young smith’s muscled torso in a way that had the flush on his cheeks deepening.

“Ah…” Bredan said.

“We were nearly done with the day’s labors, in any case,” the elder smith added.  His voice had just a hint of a southern accent, adding a bit of exotic flavor to his words.  He looked over at Bredan.  “You should go, buy this girl a cool drink.  Maybe walk down by the river, where it is pretty now with all the flowers.”

“But uncle, I thought you wanted me to finish working on the hinges for Jofram…”

“Bah!” Karras interrupted.  “You would rather stay in the forge then go out into the town?  You are a strange boy!  Now go, wash up, and put on a clean shirt!”

Bredan shot Glori a wry look before he headed toward the smithy.  His uncle tossed him his wooden sword, and the young warrior hung both weapons on the rack beside the door before he went inside.  There was a practical armory of simulated arms there, from axes to spears to swords of all size and shape.  Most were made of wood, but there were some blunted iron blades as well.  From the wear on the two big swords that they’d been using it seemed like the greatsword was the preferred choice for their sparring sessions.

“And how are you, Miss Leliades?” Karras asked once Bredan had gone inside.  “Still performing at the Boar’s Tusk?”

“Mostly, though lately I’ve been spending more time in the taverns along Mercantile Way.  Things have been pretty slow of late.  Not as many caravans coming through.”

“Trade is like the tide, it ebbs and flows,” Karras said, though Crosspath was hundreds of miles from the seacoast.  “We keep busy.”

“I’ve heard some reports of trouble in the north,” Glori said, fidgeting with the strap of her lyre while her eyes drifted back toward the closed door where Bredan had gone inside the house that backed onto the smithy.  “The caravan guards say that the raids have been stronger than usual.  Orcs, goblinoids, maybe worse.  Rumor has it that King Dangren’s sending troops north to Adelar.”

Karras was quiet for a moment.  “I’ve heard that as well,” he finally said.

Glori shifted her attention back to the old smith.  “Do you think there will be a war?  The King, he could call upon the elves and dwarves for aid again, like in the time of King Alephron.”  She seemed both excited and frightened by the prospect, her pale green eyes all but glowing.

Karras shook his head slowly.  “I’ve been in a war,” he said.  “I hope you and Bredan never have to know what it is like to be caught in one.”

“But surely the fighting wouldn’t make it this far south…” she began.

“War is like a pestilence,” the smith said.  “It spreads rapidly and has an effect that extends well beyond those it touches directly.”

Glori nodded toward the weapon rack.  “But you spend all that time preparing, training Bredan to fight.”

“The world is what it is,” Karras said.  “I want Bredan to be ready for it.  I promised his father.”

“_Is_ he ready?” Glori asked.  “I mean, he seems pretty good with that big piece of wood, but I’m not much of a judge of that kind of thing.”

“From what Bredan says, you have some skill with the smallbow.”

“Yeah, well.”  She flicked up the hair covering the side of her face.  “Comes with the ears, I guess.”

“I have known more than a few elves in my time,” Karras said.  “Enough to know that they earn their skills through long and intense practice, the same as everyone else.  Archery is not a hereditary trait.”

Her lips twisted in a smirk but before she could come up with a quip in response the door burst open and Bredan reappeared.  It was clear he’d washed and changed in a hurry; his shirt, while more or less clean, was still untucked, and his damp hair was a tousled mess.  He was buckling on a belt that supported a small purse and a dagger in a plain leather scabbard.  Karras shook his head as his nephew kicked the door shut behind him and came over to rejoin them.

“Is there anything you need from town, uncle?” Bredan asked.

“No, no.  Go on, have fun.”

“I’ll be back before supper…”

“Bah, I give you leave to go, and you try to argue away your freedom!  You are a strange boy.  Go, go!”

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Master Karras,” Glori said, decisively taking Bredan by the arm and steering him toward the gate.


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## carborundum

I like it already!


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## Lazybones

Thanks, carborundum!

Here's some more about our starting pair and their quest. We'll meet the rest of the party on Monday.

* * * 

Chapter 2

“Thanks for… you know, back there,” Bredan said, as he and Glori walked along the street that led into the core of Crosspath.

The smithy was situated on the edge of town, sharing company with other shops and businesses that produced loud noises or unpleasant smells.  Bredan waved to one of the stablemen at Cody’s Yards as they passed, while Glori wrinkled her nose and looked dubiously at the horses in the paddock that extended back from the road.

“Your uncle just wants you to be happy,” Glori said.

“I know.  I just don’t want to disappoint him.  Ever since father… he’s been very good to me.”

“He was in the king’s army, he saw an awful lot of the world outside Crosspath.”

“I know you saw a good part of it too, before your master…”  With a flinch and a glance over at her he quickly snapped his mouth shut.  Her jaw tightened but she let him try again.  “You’ve traveled a lot,” he finally managed.  “But nothing in all the stories you’ve told me has convinced me that people are any different out there than they are here.”

She briefly laid a hand on his arm.  “I’ll I’m saying is that he might surprise you.”

“Speaking of surprises,” he said, on more certain ground now.  “What’s this visit about, really?”

She looked over at him and offered a subtly exaggerated blink.  “What do you mean?  I’m getting a cool drink and maybe a nice sunset walk along the river.”

Bredan snorted.  “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re up to something, especially since that’s usually all the time.”

She sniffed.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, you’re going to tell me sooner or later, might as well do it now.”

She shot him another considering look, then nodded.  “I heard about a job.”

“I thought you had a job.”

“No, a job for _us_.”

“Glori…”

“Are you going to hear me out, or not?”

“Fine.”

“Do you know Starfinder?”

“The wizardess?”

“Okay, first off, it’s ‘wizard,’ it’s not a gendered term.  That’s very sexist, and the kind of thing that could get us off on the wrong foot with her.”

Bredan rolled his eyes, but he was careful to turn his head away first.  “I’m already not liking this.  What does a wizard need with a smith and a bard?”

“Well, hear me out.  There’s something she needs.  From the Dry Hills…”

“No,” he said.  “No!” he repeated, holding up a hand when she tried to cut in.  “Aren’t you the one who always says that every story about the Dry Hills begins in two ways: ‘So we were in the Dry Hills and ran into these bandits,’ or ‘So we were in the Dry Hills and ran into this terrible monster?’”

“You’re exaggerating.  Besides, from what I just saw, you could handle either, if we got you a real sword.”

“My uncle would never allow it.”

“That’s odd, I thought you were an adult.”

“Make fun, but it’s a terrible idea.  Dangerous, for one.”

“She’s offering four hundred.”

Bredan nearly tripped, though the road was only a little bit muddy.  “Gold?  Wait, no, I don’t want to know.”

“How much do you make working for your uncle again?”

Bredan didn’t bother answering the question.  “I’m a smith, not a treasure hunter.  And besides, everyone knows that the ruins in the Dry Hills were all looted.”

“Then it will be an easy score.  Starfinder will pay half even if the place is empty.”

_That’s stupid,_ Bredan started to say, but he bit the words off before they could escape his mouth.  He didn’t actually know any wizards, but they had strange ways and were different from ordinary folk, everyone knew that.  “It’s still too dangerous for two people,” he said.

“Well, as it happens I know a lot of folks,” Glori said.  “I bet I could find a few more people who might be interested.  Or there might be others who respond to the notice, it was posted over at the Tusk where anybody could see it.”

“Based on the sort of folks I’ve seen you hang out with, that’s hardly reassuring,” he said.  But when he saw the effect his words had he quickly added, “I’ll think about it, okay?  I will, I promise.  And I’d have to talk to my uncle, my absence from the forge would affect his business.  Especially if I never came back,” he added in an undertone.

“That’s very fair,” she said.

He started to turn around, and she asked, “Where are you going?”

“What?  I thought this was why you came to see me.  I really do have a lot of work to do.”

She stood in the road and folded her arms across her chest.  “I believe I was promised a drink, and I intend to collect.”


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## Lazybones

Chapter 3

Quellan was in a hurry.  Normally he tried not to rush.  For one thing, it was undignified, especially when he was dressed in the plain wool robe that was the common attire at the monastery.  For another, it tended to startle people when they saw him approaching quickly.

He imagined that he could feel the ground shaking under his feet, though the stones of the monastery were each the size of a cart.  He was wearing soft slippers that made a slapping sound as he hurried—not quite running, that would be unacceptable—through the familiar halls.

As he came to the intersection next to the Chamber of Contemplation he ran into Sister Delia.  Not literally, of course—the old woman might not have survived that—but even so she looked up at him with an expression that was stern and obviously critical of his haste.

“Is there a fire in the rectory, Brother Emberlane?” she asked.

“No… no, of course not, Sister,” Quellan said.  His voice was deep and a bit guttural, no matter how he tried to work on his annunciation.  It was difficult to speak clearly when one had tusks the size of a thumb jutting from one’s jaw, or a splayed nose the size of a tea saucer that whistled whenever he breathed heavily.

He liked Sister Delia.  She was one of the few people at the monastery who never looked at him differently because of his mixed origins.  She could be equally stern toward everyone, and was not intimidated by a half-orc that loomed over her like a giant and could crush her with a single swipe of his mottled arm.

“So what brings you running into the Halls of Meditation?  Has the Master of Books received a new volume?  No, that would draw an entire stampede of you Hosrenites…”

Quellan’s hand reflexively sought out the wooden icon that hung from a long throng almost to his belly.  The thick disk was carved with the representation of an open book on the front, the symbol of his service to Hosrenu, god of knowledge.  Delia wore a similar icon around her neck, but hers bore the blazing sun of Sorevas.  It was one of the little games at the monastery that the adherents of the various faiths teased each other, but Quellan knew well enough how unusual it was to have a sacred place where the followers of different faiths could collaborate and cohabitate in an atmosphere of relative tolerance.  That such a place could thrive in a town as isolated was Crosspath was a testament to the will of Abbess Laurine, who had been leader here throughout the reign of nearly a dozen Arreshian kings.  Just the fact of the monastery’s existence had probably saved his life, Quellan thought.

Delia was still looking up at him, and he realized he hadn’t responded to her comment.  “Ah, no, Sister,” he stammered.  “I was looking for Brother Stonefist.  I have… I’m on an important errand for the Abbess.”

Delia quirked an eyebrow impressively.  “I see,” she said.  “I believe that you will find Brother Stonefist meditating in the Rock Garden.”

“Thank you, Sister,” Quellan said.  He could feel Delia’s eyes on his back as he continued on his way, and he managed to keep a measured stride until he’d rounded the next bend in the hall.  Then he resumed his brisk pace.

The Rock Garden was squeezed into the narrow space between the back of the Greater Hall and the stone wall that ringed the monastery complex.  This late in the day the sun had already dropped beyond the wall, though the upper part of the hall was still ablaze in light that sparkled golden on the narrow windows of the solarium.

True to its name, the space was mostly bare stone, punctuated by a few sparse patches of plants that didn’t need much in the way of direct light to prosper.  But the Rock Garden was anything but dull.  Quellan found its sparseness refreshing.  Every stone felt like it had been painstakingly situated in its proper place.  The paths that wound through the area offered changing vistas that stimulated thought and offered privacy in a place that often felt crowded, at least to him.

He didn’t have to go searching for Kosk.  The dwarf was kneeling in the gravel near the entrance to the garden.  He was bent forward so that he appeared to be staring intently at the ground directly in front of him.

“Is that a new form of meditation?” Quellan asked.

The dwarf did not respond at first.  The position he was in had to be terribly uncomfortable, but Quellan had given up trying to comprehend the various rituals of physical discipline and denial practiced by the monastery’s small cadre of monks.

“I am practicing envy,” Kosk finally said.

Quellan walked over to join him, but the dwarf made a gesture for him to remain back a step.  Curious now, the half-orc sat down, heedless of the gravel that poked him through the coarse fabric of his robe.

He could see now that the object of the dwarf’s fascination was a tiny black beetle, barely the size of Quellan’s thumbnail.  It was moving slowly across the gravel pathway, weaving around larger bits of rock while apparently unaware of the scrutiny being paid to its progress.

“What are we envious of?” Quellan asked.  “The simplicity of its life?”

“Focus,” Kosk said.  “To this creature, this yard is like a vast desert.  The bits of gravel are like boulders, these pebbles mountains.  There are two vast creatures watching that could crush the life from it with a casual step, yet it continues on the way to its destination.”

“That bush over there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Kosk abruptly rose up.  He stood in an odd manner, placing his hands palm-down on the ground and then levering his body up until his entire weight was balanced on his hands.  Then he bent his elbows until his bare chin was nearly touching the gravel before he thrust up and with a grunt flipped up onto his feet.  Quellan was strong, a gift of his bloodline, but he knew that his friend carried a lot of power in his compact form.  The dwarf was not a young man, and his body and face bore the marks of an interesting life.  He’d arrived at the monastery only shortly after Quellan, almost five years past now.  Kosk never spoke about his past, and Quellan had never thought to pry.  The dwarf was unlike anyone else at the monastery, certainly all of the other monks, and perhaps that more than anything else had made the half-orc want to make him his friend.

The dwarf was watching him with a look that was growing increasingly impatient.  Quellan stood in a more conventional manner, brushing off the bits of gravel that clung to his robe.  “I have news.”

“I can see.  I haven’t seen you this excited since the Librarian got that fifth volume of _The Histories of the Northern Civilizations_ in last month.”

“This is actual news.  A mission.  From the Abbess.  There’s this wizard in the town, she has a job, the Abbess owes her a favor, she—the wizard—she needs this artifact that’s…”

“When do we leave?” Kosk interrupted.

“Leave?  Ah, we’re supposed to meet with the wizard tomorrow morning.”

“All right then.”  He started to turn away.

“Don’t you want to hear more about the mission?”

“I reckon you’ll tell me on the way.”  The dwarf flexed his thick fingers.  “I’ve been out here meditating for a bloody hour.  Right now, I need to break something.”

Leaving the cleric to look after him in surprise, Kosk trudged back across the yard and went inside.


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## Lazybones

I thought about posting the stat blocks at this point, but I think I'll finish getting things set up first.

You've probably already noticed that I'm playing around with some of the standard RPG tropes here. Hopefully it will be obvious when I'm using 5e mechanics without taking the reader out of the narrative.

* * * *

Chapter 4

They ended up staying out later than Bredan had expected.

The streets of Crosspath were fairly dark as he and Glori made their way back toward the outskirts of town.  The street lanterns that lit the way in the town center became less frequent as they proceeded onward, and the night pressed in around them in the gaps, enfolding them in deep shadows.

Bredan was feeling a little unsteady.  They’d each had a few mugs of ale with their dinner at the Boar’s Tusk, where Glori received free meals and discounts on drinks due to her regular arrangement there.  A few of the locals asked her for a song or a story, but she waved them off with a few smiles and promises of later performances.  Afterwards they’d stopped off at The Ragged Tinker, another of the taverns where Glori was well-known, and someone had thrust a full mug into his hand.  Bredan couldn’t justify turning down a free drink, so…

He focused on putting his feet down carefully on the uneven surface of the road.  Glori, walking beside him, seemed to be having no difficulty with either the drink or the darkness.  Of course she had the sharp eyes of her elven heritage, Bredan reminded himself.  He had to admit that he was glad she’d come along.  He’d tried to insist that she remain in town, so she wouldn’t have to walk back alone in the dark, but she in turn had reminded him that she knew how to take care of herself.

As they walked he found out about her ulterior motive, as she continued the conversation that had dominated dinner.  She didn’t quite bring up the wizard’s offer again—she’d promised to give him time to think about it—but she regaled him with familiar tales of the treasure hunters who had brought fortunes out of the Dry Hills, uncovered caches of artifacts from the long-lost Mai’i Empire or long forgotten fragments of magical lore.  Bredan let her go on, didn’t offer comment, but he knew that those stories were set in a different time a decade or longer in the past.  Adventurers and fortune-seekers still occasionally came to Crosspath, but it was as a waystop on the way to someplace more interesting.

The breeze shifted and Bredan smelled something, an acrid reek of something burning.  He looked over but realized that Glori was no longer there, and that she’d stopped taking.  He turned around, confused, but saw her just a few steps back, staring past him with a startled look on her face.

When she saw that he was looking at her she said, “Bredan…”

But he’d already turned back and stared at the road ahead.  The night was almost complete in that direction, but he could see a faint glow over the uneven outlines of the buildings that lined the right side of the road.  That glow was just enough to reveal plumes of smoke that rose up into the night sky.

“Bredan!” Glori called, but he was already running, heedless of the hazards of the muddy road in the dark.

By the time he got within a hundred yards of the smithy he could see the flames pouring up from the top of structure.  When he finally came around the bulk of the adjacent stables he could see that the entire building was on fire, both the shop in the front and the living quarters attached to the back.  He was dimly aware of men rushing around near the stables, no doubt trying to keep the fire from spreading to their property, and the panicked screams of horses.  But his main attention was on his home for the last ten years being consumed as the fire tore through it.

He didn’t realize that he had started forward toward the flames before Glori grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back.  “Bredan!”  For a moment he almost tore free, but then the fear on her face helped pull him back into himself.

“My uncle…” he said.

“Bredan!” a voice shouted from across the street.  He turned and saw that the hail had come from the covered porch of Kesren Tull’s shop.  The leatherworker was there with a couple of other people, but Bredan’s attention instantly focused on the blackened form sitting propped up against the front of the workshop.  The onlookers made way as Bredan ran over to them.

As he knelt beside his uncle he saw with relief that it wasn’t as bad as it had first looked.  The elder Karras was covered in soot, and his breathing was ragged, but he was alive and conscious.

“What happened?” Bredan asked.

His uncle looked up at him and tried to say something, but a spell of coughing overcame him and Kesren had to hold him up.  It looked ridiculous, the diminutive gnome supporting the comparatively huge bulk of the smith, but at the moment Karras looked more than his age.  “I don’t know,” Kesren said.  “I was in the back of my shop… I smelled the fire before I saw it.  By the time I got to the street the whole place was engulfed in flames.  Your uncle, he just barely got out ahead of it.”

Karras tried to speak again, only to fail as his coughing fit redoubled.  “Get him some water!” Kesren yelled, but Bredan turned and looked for his companion.  “Glori…”

The half-elven woman was already kneeling beside him, shifting her lyre around so that it dangled in front of her.  She drew out the small silver plectrum that she used to pluck the strings, and took a single steadying breath before she began to play.

Bredan had heard Glori play her lyre many times, but he had only seen her work its magic on a few rare occasions.  He could feel the change with just the first few notes.  The folks gathered around them grew quiet, and even the sounds of chaos coming from across the street seemed to fade away as the music swirled out of the strings.  The lyre seemed to glow as Glori’s fingers rippled across the instrument, and for a moment Bredan thought he could almost see the notes drifting between her and his uncle.  Karras immediately stopped coughing, and his body arched as he sucked in a deep breath.

A moment later Glori stopped playing.  Even though he hadn’t been a direct part of her working, Bredan felt as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Uncle?” he asked.

Karras took in another breath.  “I’m fine.  Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“I… I don’t know.  I was working… there was a flash, and then fire… everywhere.  I barely had time to get out.  Everything lost… it’s all gone…”

He tried to get up, but Bredan, Glori, and Kesren all pushed him down together.  “I’m fine, I tell you,” the smith protested, but Glori put on her stern face.  “You need to rest, Master Karras.”

“You can stay with us tonight,” Kesren said.  “You and Bredan both.”

“They’re bringing a cart,” another of the bystanders said.

“Nonsense.  I can walk,” Karras said.  He stood up, slowly, the others lingering around him in case Glori’s healing magic hadn’t fully negated the effects of his brush with death.  He crossed to the railing that ran across the front of the porch, and stood there staring at the shell of his home and business.

“I’m sorry,” Bredan said.  “I should have been here…”

“No, don’t take this on, it’s not your weight to carry,” Karras said sternly.  “We’ll figure it out.  We’ll figure it out.”

More people were arriving from the town, some carrying buckets or shovels or other tools to fight the fire.  It didn’t look like the fire would spread; one benefit of being on the outskirts of the town was that the buildings tended to be further apart than in the more concentrated core.  There would still have to be patrols, alert to the possibility of embers traveling on the evening breeze landing on a dry shingle or a mound of hay bales in a back yard.  But there was nothing that could be done for the dying building.  All the two smiths could do was watch as the flames swirled up into the night and everything they owned was consumed in a blazing pyre.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 5

Bredan ducked low under a fallen beam and carefully watched where he was putting his feet as he moved into burned-out wreckage of the smithy.  He had known every inch of this place intimately before the disaster, but now there were only ruined echoes of the once-familiar workshop.  Only the two anvils were more or less intact, but one was completely buried by fallen debris and the other was covered in a crust of crisped shingles and ashes that distorted its distinctive shape.  An acrid stink filled his nostrils and tickled his lungs with each breath he took.

“Uncle?”

He didn’t shout, but his voice sounded unnaturally loud in his own ears, as if the fire had transformed the interior of the shop into an empty temple.  But a moment later he heard a shuffle and a call from the back room.  “Bredan.  I’m in here.”

It was only a dozen steps from the entry to the open doorway, but Bredan took them slowly and with care.  He thought he’d been prepared by the destruction in the front of the shop, but as he reached the doorway he sucked in a startled breath.

The fire had been even more thorough here in its destruction.  The neatly-ordered racks and their carefully-sorted cargoes had been transformed into a gory wreckage.  The day was overcast and dreary, but even if the sun had been out it couldn’t have done more than highlight the devastation.  The entire back wall of the room had collapsed along with the roof, letting in the pale light of the morning.  Bredan’s uncle was over by that mound of debris, digging in the rubble.  On seeing Bredan he waved him over.  “Come here, give me a hand with this.”

“Uncle, you shouldn’t be in here, it’s not safe.”  Bredan looked up at the few roof beams left intact and the damaged walls that were still left around them.  “This whole place could collapse.”

“I just needed to get one thing.”  From the soot smeared on his arms and his face he’d been digging around for quite some time already.  For a moment Bredan’s mind flashed back to the way his uncle had looked the night before when he’d been lying on the Tulls’ porch, unable to move and barely able to breathe.  For a moment he felt a tight fist close around his chest at the vividness of the memory.

“The cleric said you needed to rest,” Bredan said.

Karras paused in his excavation and wiped his brow.  His hand left a smear across his forehead.  “I’m fine, Bredan.  Really.  It was just bad luck, is all.  But I’m here, and I’m all right.  Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Now come on, I’ve almost got it, but it’s pretty well buried.”

“What is it?” Bredan asked as he came forward, curious despite himself.  He’d been in this room thousands of times, but he’d never been aware of anything buried in the back corner, away from the last of the racks that lined the length of the room.

“Your legacy,” Karras said.  “Here, I’ll hold this up… just reach down in there and grab the end of the box.”

Bredan tensed as his uncle levered up a fallen beam, causing the whole mound of rubble to creak menacingly.  But he knelt in the debris and reached into the dark space underneath the collapse.  His hands immediately closed on something just below ground level; it must have been buried under the floor when the place was intact.  It was blocky and heavy, but Bredan’s muscles had been built up from all the work in the forge and in the many sparring sessions besides.  He had to plant his foot carefully where it wouldn’t strain the already precarious pile of debris and drag the object slowly clear with brute strength.  It was a wooden box, long and low.  Once Bredan had pulled it out of its niche Karras let the beam fall and the two smiths staggered clear with their prize as the rubble of the fallen wall shifted back into place.

The box was covered in soot, and at first Bredan thought it had been wrecked by the fire, but as he ran a hand over its lid he realized it was solid and almost completely intact.  His fingers encountered a pattern etched into the lid, and he wiped the ashes clear to reveal an abstract sigil he did not recognize.

“What is this?” he asked.

His uncle wiped his hands on his coat, and for a moment looked uncertain.  “As I said, it’s your legacy.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner.  I made a promise, a promise that I would keep it for you until you were ready.”

Bredan’s eyes flashed back to the box.  “What’s inside?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry in a way that had nothing to do with the ash and smoke in the air.

“Open it.”

Bredan had already noticed that the box was unusual, but only when he started looking for the hasp did he notice that it lacked either a locking mechanism or hinges.  The ashes had highlighted the seam around the top, confirming that it was not just a solid hunk of wood, but there was no indication of how it was opened.  Bredan had his dagger, but was reluctant to pry open the box given that he still didn’t know what was inside.  He shot a questioning look at his uncle.

“It will open for you,” Karras said.

With that mysterious comment hanging in the air Bredan reached down and ran his fingers along the lid of the box.  He was going to try and pull the lid up but didn’t get a chance.  He felt something, a faint tingling that passed up his fingers, then the box sprang open of its own accord.

Once it was open he could see the clever construction, the recessed interior hinges and swinging metal arms that supported the lid.  The box was lined with soft felt and was free of even a speck of soot.  Somehow it had survived the fire and being crushed without any effect upon its contents.

Those contents were spread across the full length of the container.  Bredan reached down for what he first thought was a folded blanket until he felt the familiar strength of steel.  As he grabbed hold of the material and pulled it free he saw that it was a hauberk of fine mesh chainmail, a full suit that had be worth hundreds of gold pieces.  The Karras smithy hadn’t done much work with armor—there was a specialist in town who handled that and weapons—but Bredan knew enough to know that what he was holding was exceptional quality.

There was more in the box, matching greaves and other accessories to the armor, but moving the suit had revealed something else that caught his attention.  Careful to place the armor down on the edge of the box so as to avoid getting fouling it in the charred muck of the room, he drew out the sword.

It was in a scabbard of black leather trimmed with red, attached to a baldric so it could be worn slung across the back.  The size of it explained the bulk of the box; it filled the entire length of the container, tilted so the point and the pommel fit neatly into opposing corners.  It was a true greatsword, the blade alone nearly five feet long.

Bredan held his breath and slid the sword from the scabbard.  He did not know how long the sword had been kept hidden here, but the blade was pristine, without even a speck of rust or any other blemish to mar its length.  It felt surprisingly light for its size, but Bredan knew that was deceptive; after a few swings it would start to bear down in its wielder’s grip.  It was both similar to the wooden practice sword he’d trained with and entirely different at the same time.

“You’ll have to tend it, and the armor too,” Karras said.  Bredan started; for a moment he’d almost forgotten that his uncle was there.  “I should be able to dig up some metal oil and whetstones, and some scouring sand.  The leather wrap on the hilt will need to be replaced regularly too.”

“I know, uncle,” Bredan said.  “You taught me well.”  He hesitated a moment.  “Whose sword was this?” he asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

Karras’s eyes held confirmation even before he spoke.  “These things belonged to your father.”

Bredan lowered the sword to rest across his lap.  “Am I ready?” he asked.

His uncle nodded.  “I’ve taught you all that I know.  Just remember that the world out there is dangerous, and not all of those dangers will come at you when you’re expecting them.”

Bredan nodded.  He put down the box and looked at his new possessions.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” his uncle said.

“I know.  But it’s time.”

“All right.  Well, let me help you with this.  It’ll take some getting used to.”  He laughed.  “I guess I should have trained you more in carrying this kind of gear.”

“Carrying heavy objects has definitely been a part of my training.”

“I suppose.”  He picked up the armor.  “I’ll take you through the steps one by one, so you’ll know how to do it yourself, out there.  It goes a lot faster with someone to help.”

“Thank you, uncle.”  For everything, he wanted to add, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

The elder Karras clasped him on the arm; maybe the words weren’t necessary.  As he carefully unfolded the armor he said, “Oh, I almost forgot, when we’re done here I have something else for you.”

“This… all this is more than enough.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t the only one… well, you’ll see.  Now pay attention while I show you how you put this on properly.”


----------



## carborundum

So many questions


----------



## Lazybones

It took a lot of consideration to find a Background that fit with Bredan's character concept.

* * * 

Chapter 6

When Bredan emerged from the wrecked smithy the first thing he saw was Glori.  The half-elf woman was standing next to the raised porch of the leatherworker’s shop across the way, chatting with Kesren Tull.  It looked like she was showing him her lyre, the silver flashing even in the weak glow of the overcast morning.

He hesitated for a moment, but she must have somehow sensed his presence, for she turned around and looked his way.  When she saw him her face erupted into a broad smile that made the glint from the silver of her instrument seem pale by contrast.  He suddenly felt self-conscious but trudged over to meet them.  The chainmail was heavy but the weight was well distributed.  He had no doubt that it and the sword slung across his back would leave his muscles sore after a day carrying them.

“Young Master Karras, you look quite… different,” Tull said.

“I guess I look pretty silly,” Bredan said.

“You look like a warrior,” Glori said.  He looked askance at her, but there seemed to be no teasing in her tone or manner.  “Is that your father’s gear?”

“Yes.  How did you know?”

“I didn’t.  It just seems… right.”

“A moment, a moment before you go,” Tull said.  The gnome ran inside, shouting after them to wait.

Glori looked down at what he was carrying.  “What’s that?”

“A shovel.  And an iron pot.”

“I can see that.  What are you doing with them?”

“Ah… some of our neighbors came over with gifts this morning, apparently.”

“That was nice of them.  But why do _you_ have them?  Wouldn’t your uncle…”

“The gifts were for me.  It seems that _someone_ spread the word about what we were planning.”

Glori’s look was pure innocence.  “Hmm.  Okay, I can see where a pot would come in handy.  But… a _shovel_?”

“Hey there was a suit of clothes, too.  And a purse.  They took up a collection.  Ten golds!  Can you believe it?  It appears that I’m some sort of folk hero now, just because I’m apparently dumb enough to go treasure-hunting in the bloody Dry Hills.  Don’t laugh.”

With an obvious effort Glori’s expression turned serious again.  “No, really, it’s nice.  And now that I think on it, I think it was General Laxom who wrote that half of an army’s work was digging, and that a shovel was just as important as a sword to bring to war.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I never lie when it comes to history.”

Bredan gave her a dubious look that turned evaluative as he took in the details of her attire.  Her outfit was stylish but definitely practical, with sleek trousers tucked into knee-high boots and a vest of rigid leather covering her from throat to hips.  Over that she wore both a thick coat and a warm-looking cloak that was currently pulled back to give her arms full range of motion.  In addition to her lyre and dagger she carried a compact hunting bow and a quiver of arrows that hung from her hip opposite the instrument.

Glori noticed his scrutiny and did a small hip-twist to show off.  “How is your uncle doing?” she asked.

“He’ll be okay,” Bredan said.  “It’s hard for him.”  He waved his hand vaguely behind him in the direction of the wrecked smithy, unwilling even to look at it again.

“Yeah,” Glori said, understanding what he meant.

“Here, here,” Kesran said as he returned.  He was carrying a pair of leather packs, one thin and compact, the second square and bulky.  Both were covered with decorative scrollwork that showed trees and other plants in the case of the smaller one, and a martial theme of crossed swords and shields for the bigger.  Kesran grinned as he held them out to Glori and Bredan.

“Please, accept these humble gifts,” the gnome said.

Bredan hid his reflexive groan.  “Oh, Master Tull, we couldn’t…” he began, but the craftsman quickly shushed him.  “You must honor me by taking them.  Please, you and your uncle have helped me many times, and Miss Leliades, there have been more than a few customers who said that you sent their custom my way.  And besides, as my dear later father used to say, every adventurer must have a good backpack!  And comfortable shoes.  A good backpack, and shoes.”

“Here, I can hold your shovel,” Glori said.  Bredan shot her a look but handed it over and took the big pack.  He wondered how he was going to manage both the pack and the sword.  As if reading his mind the gnome started adjusting the straps for him.  “I gave you this one because of your great strength, from the forge.  You can fill it with all the many treasures you will find in your adventures.”

“I don’t know about all that, Master Tull,” Bredan said.

“Nonsense,” Kesran said.  “I am certain that you will become quite famous, both of you.”

“Well, that would be something,” Bredan said.  He looked over to Glori for help, but the bard had already put on her pack and was smiling at him as the gnome helped him make sure his sword was clear and the pack was in place.  For the moment they put the iron pot and his tools inside the pack, which looked like it could fit the gnome and a few of his companions inside comfortably.  Bredan had to kneel so Kesren could get at the straps, and when he got back up he definitely felt it in his knees.

“Thank you, Master Tull,” Glori said when they were ready.  “You do us honor with your gifts, and we will put them to good use.”  With a subtle bow she thrust the shovel back into Bredan’s hand, took him by the elbow, and led him down the street.

“So what was that all about?” Bredan asked.

“It was a nice gesture, I thought,” Glori said.

“No, I mean, how did he knew that we were going adventuring?”

Glori looked over at him.  “Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re heading off to fix the hinges on some farmer’s barn door.”

“Glori…”

“You made him feel good, that he was helping.  Him and the others.  You and your uncles have made a lot of friends here.  You should be grateful.”

“I’m not used to being treated like some kind of hero.”

“Sir Bredan, master of the blade, lord of the martial dance.  Wielder of the mighty shovel of destiny.”

Bredan hefted the shovel in mock threat.  “Once we’re in town I’m going to find someone to take this back to my uncle.”

“We’re not going through town.”

He blinked at that.  “Where are we going?”

“I thought you said you knew Starfinder?”

“I said I’d heard of her, like everybody in Crosspath.  I’ve never been to her house, or tower, or… whatever.”

“It’s a perfectly normal house, and I know exactly where it is.  Just outside of town off the south road.”

“I didn’t know you and this wizard were old pals,” Bredan said.

In response Glori just rolled her eyes at him.

They continued on in companionable silence for a while.  Glori took them on a route that bypassed the center of town and led them instead through the outskirts to the southern trade road.  Bredan found that he was actually glad for that; while he normally was happy to talk with the other townsfolk he wasn’t in the mood for their questions or condolences over what had happened to the smithy.  The few people they spotted gave them curious looks but didn’t stop to chat.

The houses and shops had started to thin around them when Bredan finally spoke again.  “So I take it you didn’t find anybody else to join us for this crazy quest?”

“Not directly, but I heard that the monastery is sending someone.”

“The monastery?”

“That’s what I said.  And before you ask, I don’t know who it is yet.”

“How did you find out that they’re sending someone?”

She grinned and shot him an amused look.  “I have spies everywhere.”  After a few more steps she asked, “Worried about reducing your share of the reward?”

“No.  Like I said before, the more people the better, and I suspect a cleric would come in real handy in the Dry Hills.”

“What’s bothering you, then?”

“I don’t know.  I just… I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, leaving like this.”

“It’ll just be a couple of days.  A week at most.  And then you’ll have a pile of gold, and you can rebuild the smithy and buy a bunch of those big hammers you smiths use to beat on metal all day.”

“I think you have a somewhat simple view of my profession,” Bredan said.

“Could be,” she said lightly.  “But look, we’re here.”

Bredan blinked in surprise.  The wizard’s house was not what he had been expecting.  The place was just a small cottage, nestled against a hill that rose up steeply behind it.  The exterior was immaculate, with fresh paint on the window frames and door and a path of round stones that wound through a neatly-kept garden bounded by a whitewashed picket fence.  The roof was tile rather than thatch, but otherwise this might have been the dwelling of a middling farmer rather than a renowned practitioner of the arcane arts.

Glori apparently was not surprised at all; she had already opened the gate in the fence and gestured for him to hurry up.  Bredan swallowed the sudden nervousness that had begun to stir his insides and followed her to the door.

There was a small bell-rope next to the entry, but they didn’t need to use it; the door swung silently open at their approach.  Again Glori didn’t seem to find anything unusual about that, and Bredan had no choice but to follow her inside.  It took him a moment to navigate the narrow doorway with his various burdens, but after a few moments he was able to get inside without breaking anything.

The sight that greeted them took him aback.  The interior was as neat as the outside, the décor plush and decorative without being overwhelming.  There was an assortment of chairs and couches, a number of bookshelves populated by thick volumes and assorted knickknacks, and a couple of rugs that looked thick enough to sleep on.  But it was the size of the room that alarmed Bredan; he didn’t need a measuring line to know that its dimensions were significantly greater than the exterior walls.

“Magic,” he breathed.

Glori elbowed him.  “Don’t be silly.  It’s just built into the hillside is all.”

Bredan flushed as he realized she was right.  But as he gave the room a second look he belatedly realized something else; they were not alone.

The two men had been standing on the far side of the room, partially obscured behind the mass of a stone hearth that looked large enough to roast an entire pig, if not a small cow.  As Glori and Bredan entered the pair turned to face them.  Bredan felt his hands twitch and he had to resist an urge to adjust his sword; the strangers hardly looked friendly.

One was a half-orc, and he had both the size and ferocious appearance typical of his race.  He was clad in a suit of iron scales that Bredan reflexively identified of being of quality make, and carried both a flanged mace and a round shield banded in iron slung across his back.  He watched them intently but without apparent hostility.

His companion, however, was surly in both his demeanor and expression.  He was a dwarf, though oddly enough he lacked a beard.  Unlike his friend he didn’t wear armor, just a loose-fitting linen garment that was fastened with ties at his legs, wrists, and throat.  He wore leather bracers that were looped through with what looked like narrow strips of metal, and he carried a quarterstaff sized to his height with iron ferrules crimped at each end.

Bredan started to reach for Glori to move her behind him, but again he was too late.  “Hey there!” she said, skipping forward to greet the pair.  She extended a hand to the half-orc, and once he enveloped it in his thick fist gave a firm shake.  “I’m Glori, that’s Bredan.  You guys here for the job?  I mean, the wizard’s mission?”

The dwarf scowled, but the half-orc said, “Um… yes?”

“Oh, you’re a priest of Hosrenu?” Glori asked.

The half-orc’s gaze dropped reflexively to the icon he wore on a long throng around his neck.  Bredan stepped forward, curious despite himself.  He had not encountered many clerics of the god of knowledge, and the last thing he would have expected was for this uncommon stranger to be one of them.

The half-orc fidgeted and looked nervous, which oddly made Bredan feel more confident.  The dwarf had folded his arms across his chest and looked impatient.  Now that they were closer Bredan could see that what he’d first taken for metal strips inserted into his bracers were in fact slender knives.  That realization did not reassure him.

Glori just kept looking back and forth between the half-orc and the dwarf with an expectant look on her face until the former cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I?  My name is Quellan Emberlane, and my companion is Kosk Stonefist.  We’re from the monastery here in town.”

“Oh, of course,” Glori said.  “I’ve only been out there a few times, but it seems like a very   peaceful place.”

“You looking to dig a hole, boy?”

Bredan blinked at the dwarf’s question, then realized he was still holding the shovel.  He flushed and looked around for someplace to leave it but at that moment a door in the back of the room opened and someone new came into the room.

This time Bredan wasn’t the only one to do a double-take.  The figure that came in was… well, huge didn’t seem sufficient to describe him.  He had to bend low to clear the top of the doorway, and when he rose to his full height his head nearly scraped the ceiling.  Even Quellan would have only come up to his chin or so, and from what Bredan could make out under the flowing robe he wore he had muscles to match.  His features looked human for the most part, though there was a slightly olive tint to his skin that was unusual, and his brow was just a bit too prominent to be typical.  His eyes were dark orbs sunk deep under that protruding shelf that fixed on each of the four guests in turn.

“The Lady will see you now,” he said in a voice that sounded like stones being crushed into gravel.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 7

The giant stepped back to let the others pass.  Bredan was the last, and once he was through the door the big man fell in behind him.  The young smith had never felt small before, but this fellow’s hands looked big enough to enfold Bredan’s skull like it was a child’s ball.  His neck itched with the thought, and he wished he was carrying the sword rather than the shovel.  The giant wasn’t carrying any obvious weapons, but Bredan imagined that it wouldn’t take much effort for him to snap bones with those huge mitts.

He had to make an effort of will to turn his attention to the room ahead.  They walked through a short hall and passed a few other doors before they entered a small study.  They had to be deep in the heart of the hill now, and despite Glori’s earlier reassurance Bredan still felt a bit of awe at the effort that had gone into the construction of this place.  That thought that magic might have been involved made his skin tingle.

Other than the lack of windows the room was otherwise ordinary, comfortably designed with wooden panels covering the walls and more thick carpets spread out over the plain stone floor.  In addition to another two doors there was a narrow hallway that led out of the room at an angle that kept him from seeing very far in that direction.  A pair of bright lamps filled the room with light.  There were more shelves that contained further books and knickknacks, but here the latter tended more to the uncommon and strange.  Bredan found himself staring at a glass jar that contained an entire creature immersed in a dark liquid.  The thing looked like some odd combination of a housecat and a miniature person.

He was so immersed in the weird thing that he was the last to notice when the wizard came in.  She was an elf, which made her age difficult to guess at first glance.   Her hair was flowing silver that came to her shoulders.  She was dressed in a long robe of pale silk that whisked over the stone floor with each step she took.  Her manner was brisk but not unfriendly, and she shook their hands when she introduced herself to each of them in turn.

“Telene Starfinder,” she said when she came to Bredan.

“Bredan Karras.”  Her hand was as small in his as Glori’s had been in Quellan’s earlier, but she squeezed firmly and lifted her eyes to meet his.  “You are the smith?” she asked, still holding his hand.

“Um… yes?” Bredan said.

“Interesting,” she said.  Her lips twisted slightly before she released him and gestured them toward the slender chairs that ringed the room.  Bredan looked at his dubiously, but when Quellen was able to settle into one without it shattering he took his seat.

“Thank you, Mog,” the wizard said.  Bredan realized he’d forgotten the giant attendant, who bent low and exited through another door without a word.

“Would you like anything?” Starfinder asked as she crossed to the last chair, a plushly-padded seat next to a desk that was conspicuously clear of the clutter that occupied the rest of the room.  “Tea, perhaps?”

“I think we’d like to get to the business at hand,” Kosk said.  Bredan looked over and saw that while the dwarf had gone over to his chair he hadn’t sat down.  He looked sort of like the way that his uncle did when they were about to start sparring.  He’d folded his arms across his chest but he hadn’t relaxed; he looked to Bredan like the tensile energy stored in a coiled spring.

Bredan’s throat suddenly felt dry.  “Um… if I could maybe have a glass of water?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Starfinder said.  But instead of getting back up or summoning her giant she merely crooked a hand, as if gesturing someone closer.  Bredan looked at the others and was about to get up to serve himself—though he didn’t see where the beverages were located—when a tray drifted into the room.

Here was magic, and no denying it—the tray was floating across the room unsupported, at about the level it would be if a man was holding it.  It held a pitcher of water and several glass cups.  Bredan shot a look over at Glori, but his friend was just grinning in appreciation.

“Cool, an _unseen servant_,” she said.  “Majerion knew that spell.”

Bredan tried to appear unconcerned as the tray drifted to a stop in front of him.  He hesitated again, unsure if he was supposed to pour a glass for himself, but then the pitcher lifted into the air and filled one of the cups.  He waited a moment longer then finally took the glass.  The water was cool and he gulped it all down before putting the glass back on the tray.  “Thanks,” he said, relieved when the tray drifted back across the room.  Quellan and Glori accepted water, but Kosk merely watched stone-faced until the tray had disappeared back to where it had come from.

“To business, then,” Starfinder said.  “Have any of you heard of the Eth’barat?”

Bredan looked over at Glori, who seemed to know every story that was out there, but her face was blank.  The half-orc likewise showed no recognition, but then the dwarf said, “They were some kind of magic cult in the last days of the Empire.  Or so I heard.”

“Of a sort,” Starfinder said.  “The Eth’barat did arise in the closing days of the Mai’i, when they had passed their zenith but before the signs of decay had become obvious.  But their leaders were students of history as well as of magic, so they recognized the pattern before it had become obvious to all.  The name means, ‘Keepers of the Flame’ in the Old Speech.  They sought to preserve some of the lore that had been accumulated in the seven centuries of the Empire, the secrets of power that had been achieved when they were still in their early years of vitality and scholarship.  They began preparing caches where they could secure some of that legacy, hidden sites well-protected by traps and guardians.”

“But the Eth’barat could not have anticipated just how swiftly the final collapse would come.  They had only just begun their great work when Emperor Tivolus came to the Sapphire Throne.  And of course, the story of what came next is well-known.  The Eth’barat were swept away on the same flood of history that consumed the Empire.”

“What is it you want us to find?” Glori asked.  “A horde of magical artifacts?  A book of ancient spells?”

“A gemstone,” Starfinder said.  “A slightly-irregular crystal sphere, roughly the size of two fists pressed together.  The Stone of the Eth’barat.”

“What’s this stone do?” Kosk asked.

“It is an aid to divination magic,” the wizard replied.

“What, you mean like a crystal ball?” Glori asked.

“Something like that,” Starfinder said.  “But more of a guide to the flows of magic within our world, and the worlds beyond.”

“Is it dangerous?” Quellan asked.

“No more so than any other magic.”

“That’s not a no,” Kosk pointed out.

“The Stone should be safe enough to handle, but I will provide you with a container that will give you an added layer of security, and make the Stone almost undetectable from scrying or other detection until you return it here.”

“That suggests there are other folks out there looking for it,” Kosk said.

“I know I am not the only scholar interested in the Eth’barat or their lore,” Starfinder acknowledged.  “But while the Stone is useful, it is not really the sort of thing that draws the attention of rulers or the powerful.  It is not a weapon, I assure you.”

Bredan raised his hand.  “Um… could we go back to ‘traps and guardians’?  Are you saying the place you’re sending us is still protected by defenses that are centuries old?”

“Yes,” the wizard said.  “The Eth’barat worked in secret, but they knew that they could not rely solely upon that to protect their caches.  So they relied upon magical defenses that would, if necessary, far outlast them.”

“And there is one such cache in the Dry Hills?” Quellan asked.

“Yes,” Starfinder said.

“I guess they weren’t as good at keeping secrets as they thought,” Kosk said.  “If you could track it down after all this time.”

“I have spent decades tracing the Eth’barat,” the wizard replied.  “I have traveled from the ruins of Carpathian to the buried city of Om Malask.  I have explored Sesrek Nul, and stood upon the stones of the Way of Wise Kings.”

“I thought Sesrek Nul was underwater now,” Quellan said.

“It is,” Starfinder said, with a twinkle in her eye.

“Back to the Dry Hills,” Kosk said.  “I assume you have more specific information for us to go on?”

“Indeed.”  Starfinder turned to her desk and touched one of the drawers.  When her fingertip brushed the handle there was a subtle flash, gone so fast that Bredan thought he might have imagined it.  She pulled it open and took out a rolled scroll that she handed to Glori.  “This is a map of the area, along with a description of the Stone that should be sufficient for you to recognize it on sight.  I would certainly expect it to be hidden, perhaps magically masked or concealed in some manner.  There are also some notes on two other Eth’barat sites that were previously explored by other teams of adventurers like yourselves.  The defenses seem to be different for each cache, but you may find some clues there on what to watch out for.”

Glori opened the outer scroll.  Putting the page of notes carefully aside, she examined the map.  The men leaned over to take a look.

Bredan had seen maps before, but this one entranced him.  It was exceptionally detailed, with clever drawings of hills and forests that made him feel almost as though he was looking down on an actual landscape from above.  The map showed Crosspath and the surrounding trade roads, but most of it covered a span that included not only the Dry Hills but the barren lands beyond that extended all the way to the Silent Woods and the lands controlled by the elves.

Glori, in her practical way, had focused on the marker that presumably indicated their destination.  “I think I recognize this region.  That’s the area that they call the Godstones, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Starfinder said.  “The shrine of the Eth’barat is built into one of the bluffs.  It’s rather off the beaten path, far from the ruins frequented by treasure hunters and the like.”

“That means there might be more natural hazards present,” Quellan pointed out.

“I understand the danger, that is why I have not made the journey myself, and why I am willing to pay what I am offering.”

“Speaking of, um, payment,” Bredan ventured.  “That’s an equal four-way split?”

“I leave that up to you, of course,” Starfinder said.

“We are here to repay a debt owed to you by Abbess Laurine,” Quellan said.

Glori perked up at that.  “Oh, so you’re not claiming a share?”

“Any share owed to us goes to the monastery,” Kosk quickly interjected.  “But looking from this,” he said, indicating the map, “It’s at least a few days out, and that much back.  We could probably use an advance to purchase supplies.”

“A not unreasonable request,” Starfinder said.  She reached into another drawer of the desk, one that Bredan noticed didn’t spark at her touch, and took out a small leather purse that she handed over to Glori.  The bard jingled it in her hand and grinned.  “You guys trust me to be banker?”

Kosk frowned, but Quellan said, “Of course.”

“There are fifty gold pieces in that purse.  The rest will be paid upon return, as stipulated in the offer,” Starfinder said.

“Half if we make it there but don’t find anything, right?” Glori asked.

“Of course,” Starfinder repeated.  The way she said it, and the way she looked at each of them in turn, it didn’t sound that stupid to Bredan after all.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 8

The bell attached to the top of the door announced their arrival with a tinny jingle.  The shopkeeper emerged from the back room with a pile of winter coats tucked under his arm.  He broke into a smile as he recognized Bredan and Glori, though that grin faltered a bit as Quellan and Kosk followed them through the door.

“Ah, Bredan, Glori, it’s good to see you.  And your… friends?”

“Hi, Tellar,” Glori said.  “This is Quellan and Kosk, they’re part of our group.”

“Come to purchase supplies for your expedition into the Dry Hills?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Does the whole bloody town know where we’re going?” Kosk growled under his breath.  They had already had several encounters with Glori’s friends on the way over to the general store, and most of them had paused to offer them luck and safety on their expedition.

Glori elbowed him and muttered back, “When you have friends, they express an interest in your life.  I don’t imagine you would understand.”  To Tellar she said in a normal tone, “We need to be fully kitted out, and we’ve got hard money.”  She jingled the purse that Starfinder had given them in a way that had the dwarf rumbling again, something about “easy marks.”

“Well, you know you’ve come to the right place,” Tellar said.  “We haven’t had many adventurers come through Crosspath of late, but I still remember how to put together an explorer’s pack…”

“Just rations, and maybe some rope,” Kosk interrupted.  “Can never have enough rope.”

Glori turned to face the dwarf.  “Look, I’ve done more than my share of traveling,” she said.  “I know what you need on the road.”

“And I’ve seen more than my share of would-be adventurers fill their packs with junk that ended up dead weight, often literally,” Kosk shot back.

Bredan left the brewing argument behind him as he wandered deeper into the shop.  The store carried a wide range of common goods, arranged onto aisles of shelving that placed key items on display.  He was thinking about the purse that the elf wizard had so carelessly handed them.  Fifty gold pieces, more money than he’d ever seen in his life.  And that was only half of what his share of the reward would be if he completed Starfinder’s errand and found her magic stone.

Fifty gold pieces was two months’ work for a smith.  A real smith, like his uncle, not an apprentice like himself.  His uncle paid him two silvers a day, a decent wage, and one that had allowed him to spend an occasional evening at the Tusk or another of the local taverns and still put away some coins into his savings.  But this was something else entirely.  He’d known that rebuilding the Karras smithy would be expensive.  That’s why he was here.  A good set of smith’s tools could run twenty golds or more, let alone the cost of lumber and glass and cloth and chemicals and all the rest that would be needed to rebuild the business.  At least they could pull nails and make hinges and other fittings themselves, once they got the forge running again.

But the thought of the money was just a distraction from what was really bothering him.  That reality was driven home when he came to the end of the aisle and saw a glass-fronted display case in front of him that was securely locked.  Inside, arranged on the top shelf as if directed at him, was a small crossbow.  The sight of it was a vivid reminder that they weren’t going on some casual stroll.  The Dry Hills were not a safe place, and it was quite likely that they would encounter someone or something who wanted to kill them.  That was even leaving aside the apparently homicidal intensity with which these long-dead sorcerers whose property they were seeking protected their secrets.

“You should buy that.”

The unexpected voice startled Bredan, and he almost jumped.  He turned to see Quellan watching him with an apologetic expression.  The half-orc was quiet for a man his size, or maybe Bredan had just let his attention wander too much from his surroundings.  His uncle said he did that, sometimes.  It was a habit he would have to lose, and quickly, he thought.

Bredan leaned over and looked at the small tag attached to the bow.  “Ah, it’s way more than I can afford,” he said.

“Still, I expect it might come in handy to have a ranged weapon on this trip.  You do know how to use one?”

Bredan remembered the lessons his uncle had drilled into him, the wide range of weapons-both real and mock—that he’d trained on.  “Yeah, I know how to use it.”

“Well then.  I have some extra gold.  I will buy it, and you can repay me out of your share of the reward.”

Bredan hesitated for a moment, but the cleric’s suggestion made good sense, and finally he nodded.  “Okay, sure, thanks.”

By the time they finished making all their purchases and exited the shop the sun was almost touching the uneven line of hills to the west.  They’d already agreed to spend the night in Crosspath and get an early start the next day.  With his pack bulging and his new crossbow perched awkwardly atop it Bredan figured he would need some time to get everything balanced.  Glori suggested a stop at one of the local taverns to drink a toast to a successful mission, but the cleric and monk both demurred.  But before parting ways Quellan called them over into the shadow of the shop.

“In case I forget tomorrow… I have something for each of you.”

He produced from his pouch a small box that he opened to reveal four tiny vials enfolded in cotton padding.  He handed one to each of them.  The vials contained a clear blue liquid that seemed to sparkle in the fading light of the day.

“What’s this?” Bredan asked.

“Healing potions,” Quellan explained.  “A gift from the Abbess.  I thought we should each take one… just in case.”

“A generous gift,” Glori said.  “Thank you.”

Kosk accepted his potion without comment and tucked it into a pocket of his robe.  Bredan held onto his for a moment longer.  His brain couldn’t help but generate scenarios where the contents of the vials might be needed.  He flinched when Glori poked him in the arm and nearly dropped his potion.  “Isn’t this exciting?” she asked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 9

Bredan hurt.

His arms hurt.  His legs and feet hurt, the exact location of the pain shifting from one moment to the next regardless of how he adjusted himself.  His back and neck hurt, especially since it had taken him some time to figure out how to arrange his varied burdens so that the straps didn’t strain his muscles.  Even his butt hurt, which was a bit strange since this was really the first chance he’d had to put it to use since they’d set out that morning.  It felt like an eternity ago instead of just one day.

He looked around the camp.  Everything seemed to be in order in the light of the fading sun just barely peeking out between the uneven line of the western horizon in the distance.  He had to acknowledge that Kosk had selected a good spot.  From above the little valley nestled in between the seemingly endless parade of hills had seemed like a choked and unappealing thicket, but the dwarf been right that they would find water there.  It was only a tiny stream small enough that any of them could step over it without straining.  But it had been enough for them to wash up, fill their water bottles, and put together a stew that had tasted like just about the best thing he’d ever eaten.  The tangles of dry brush that surrounded them offered at least some protection from both the harsh evening wind and any predators that might stop by during the night, and it kept their fire hidden from casual view.

Bredan winced as he rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks.  He had thought he was in good shape from his work in the forge, but it turned out that entirely different muscles were involved when it came to trudging for long hours over difficult terrain while carrying thirty pounds of iron mail, a full pack, and several large and awkwardly-shaped weapons.

It was Kosk who had set the pace, and the dwarf had set a grueling one even considering the fact that his legs were shorter than the rest of theirs.  The dwarf was sitting a few feet away, his legs folded under him in a manner that would have been excruciating if Bredan tried it.  Kosk didn’t make any effort at idle conversation, and the young smith had no problem keeping things that way.  No doubt the dwarf was already thinking about how early a start they could get tomorrow morning.

Bredan didn’t understand his hurry.  They each carried a full ten days of rations, though based on how hungry he’d been before dinner the shopkeeper’s estimate of how long the food would last might have been optimistic.  Bredan thought he could eat another meal of the same size right then without straining himself.  But even if it took a bit longer to find this hidden shrine they should still be fine, as long as they could keep finding water.  They could even hunt, maybe.  He knew how, though he had to admit that he hadn’t seen much in the way of local wildlife during their first day of travel.  That might change when they were further away from Crosspath, though.

He looked up as Quellan returned to the ring of stones they’d arranged around the campfire.  The half-orc carried Bredan’s cookpot and their mess kits, washed clean in the stream.  Glori came with him, and Bredan admitted he felt a bit of satisfaction at the way she tried to hide a wince as she settled down onto a vacant stone.  At least he wasn’t the only one having a bit of trouble with the dwarf’s forced march.

“I think we should maybe each tell the others a little something about ourselves,” Quellan said when he’d put the pots and mess tins away.

“Ah, exposition!” Glori said.

“What?” the cleric asked.

“You know, background information.  Establishing the characters for the listener.  It’s a common feature in most stories, but you have to be careful not to overdo it; most times the audience wants to get right into the action.”

“Um, Glori, this isn’t a story,” Bredan said.

“Of course it is!  It’s almost _the_ story… the heroic journey, four flawed but sympathetic heroes from widely different origins come together to confront common danger and deadly threats that must be overcome to gain the reward…”

“Are you saying there is anything you _haven’t_ told us about you and your friend today?” Kosk asked.  “You haven’t shut up for more than five consecutive minutes all day.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being friendly,” Glori said, lifting her chin.

“What I meant,” Quellan quickly added, “Is that perhaps we should talk a bit more about our relative capabilities.”

“Aye,” Kosk said.  “The wizard might not have cared if you’re any good with those weapons you carry, but I do.”

“If you’re so concerned, why didn’t you ask before we set out?” Bredan returned.

“I think what my friend means…” Quellan began, but Kosk cut him off with a raised hand.  “This job’s an obligation,” the dwarf said.  “We’d have gone regardless.  But now that you’re here, we need to know if we can rely on you.  We might come upon a situation where having someone at your back you can rely on might make the difference between life and death.”

“I’ve seen Bredan fight,” Glori quickly said.  “He’s very good.”

It was hard to say who looked more doubtful, Bredan or Kosk, but Quellan didn’t give either a chance to comment.  “All of the clerics at the monastery receive a basic training in fighting, and the use of simple weapons,” the half-orc said.  “But most of my contribution will come from my connection to Hosrenu.  Though the power of the god I can heal wounds and perform other minor magical workings.”

“Glori can cast spells too,” Bredan said.

When the others all turned to look at her the bard flushed.  “It’s not me,” she said.  “It’s this.”  She shifted the lyre around on its strap so that it rested in her lap.  “It was a gift from my mentor Majerion, before he… before he left.  It’s magical.”

“What spells can you cast with it?” Quellan asked.

“It can cure wounds, you like said.”

“She saved my uncle’s life,” Bredan said.  “It was… remarkable.”  For a moment the two young adventurers’ eyes met, and Glori smiled.

“What else?” Kosk prompted.

“Just some… some minor enchantments.  Just tricks, really.  The sort of thing that’s popular with the tavern crowd.”  Kosk opened his mouth, but to preempt him she began playing, plucking a soft melody on the strings.

A light shimmered into being above the campfire.  It resolved into a tavern scene rendered in miniature.  It was silent, and the details were blurry around the edges, but to Bredan it was like looking through a slightly cloudy window.  He could almost feel the warmth radiating from the scene, but he knew that if he reached out and touched it his fingers would pass through it like it wasn’t there.

“Even a minor glamour can be useful,” Quellan said.  “I am sure your magic will come in handy, Miss Leliades.”

“Just Glori, please,” she said, smiling at the comment.

“What about you?” Bredan said suddenly, nodding toward Kosk.  “What do you do?  You don’t wear armor, you don’t have any weapons except for that stick and those tiny knives, and all you’ve done thus far is complain.”

“Bredan…” Quellan began, but Kosk interrupted him again with a raised hand.  “Fair question,” the dwarf said.  He got up and began looking around the camp.  He paused and picked up a stone that was slightly smaller than the stew pot.

“You’re a monk, right?” Glori asked.  “I’ve heard stories.  You guys can do physical feats like breaking boards, jumping over buildings, walking on nails… or hot coals, even water…”

“Walking on water?” Bredan asked dubiously.

“Don’t get him started on the nature of _ki,_” Quellan said.

“Chee?” Bredan asked.

“It’s a kind of physical magic…” Quellan said.

“Don’t bother with the book answer,” Kosk said as he picked up another rock.  He had a small collection tucked into the crook of his arm now, though he seemed to have no difficulty with the awkward burden.  “Most of what you’ve heard is just fables and exaggerations.  Now I won’t say there’s no such thing as monk-magic.  I’ve seen frail-looking old men who you’d think would be barely be able to climb a flight of steps perform feats that most folks would call impossible.  But it’s not sorcery.  Most of it is just training and discipline.  Shaping the body to do what you want it to do.  Like the boy and his bulging biceps from his forge.”  He dumped the rocks down between Bredan and Glori.

“What are these for?” Bredan said.

“You wanted to know what I can do.  Pick these up.  Throw them at me.  Try to hit me, as hard as you can.”

“You don’t have to…” Glori began, even as Bredan reached for one of the rocks.  Quellan sighed and picked up another.

“Better to know who’s got your back,” Kosk said.  He walked over to the far side of the fire and took up a position facing them.  “Whenever you’re ready.  All at once, you don’t have to wait.  Pretend I’m a slavering ghoul coming to tear your bloody guts out.”  When none of them moved he barked, “Well?  Throw!”

At that Bredan cocked his arm back and hurled his rock will all his considerable strength behind the cast.  Kosk barely seemed to move, but somehow the rock slid right past him, missing his head by less than an inch before vanishing into the thicket behind the camp.

“Come on, I said all together,” the dwarf said.

Bredan picked up another rock, and after looking at the others for confirmation he threw it, this time aiming for the center of the dwarf’s body.  All three rocks shot out at him, but the dwarf was already moving.  Spinning on one foot, he snapped out the other and deflected Bredan’s rock while twisting his body to avoid Quellan’s.  For a moment it looked as though Glori’s rock had just disappeared, but as the monk finished his spin and came back to his starting point they could see him holding it in the crook of his arm.

“Okay, I guess you can watch my back, then,” Glori said.


----------



## Lazybones

Now that we've gotten the party established and on its way here are the stat blocks for first level. Equipment lists are not exhaustive, just the highlights.

* * *

Bredan Karras, Human Male Fighter, Level 1
AC 16 (chain mail), hp 12, Str 16, Dex 11, Con 15, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 13
Attacks Greatsword +5 melee (2d6+3 damage), Light Crossbow +2 ranged (1d8 damage)
Background: Folk Hero
Skills: Animal Handling +4, Athletics +5, Perception +4, Survival +4
Special Abilities: Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting, Second Wind
Equipment: Chain mail, greatsword, light crossbow and 20 bolts, light hammer

Glorianna (Glori) Leliades, Half-Elf Female Bard, Level 1
AC 15 (leather armor), hp 10, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Attacks Shortbow +5 ranged (1d6+3 damage), Dagger +5 melee (1d4+3 damage)
Background: Entertainer
Skills: Acrobatics +5, Deception +5, Sleight of Hand +5, History +3, Investigation +3, Performance +5, Persuasion +5
SA Darkvision, Bardic Inspiration
Spells (DC 13, 2 1st level slots/day): 0/Dancing Lights, 0/Minor Illusion, 1/Animal Friendship, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Heroism, 1/Sleep
Equipment: “Magic” Lyre, leather armor, shortbow and 20 arrows, dagger

Kosk Stonefist, Hill Dwarf Male Monk, Level 1
AC 13 (no armor), hp 12, Str 15, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Attacks Quarterstaff +4 melee (1d6+2) and Martial Arts +4 melee (1d4+2), or darts +3 ranged (1d4+1 damage)
Background: Criminal
Skills: Athletics +4, Deception +1, Insight +4, Stealth +3
SA: Dwarven Toughness
Equipment: quarterstaff, 10 darts

Quellan Emberlane, Half-Orc Male Cleric, Level 1
AC 15 (scale mail, shield), hp 10, Str 16, Dex 8, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 15, Cha 10
Attacks Mace +5 melee (1d6+3 damage)
Background: Acolyte
Skills: Arcana +3, Insight +4, Intimidation +2, History +5, Medicine +4, Persuasion +2, Religion +5
SA Darkvision, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Knowledge Domain
Spells (DC 12, 2 1st level slots/day): 0/Light, 0/Spare the Dying, 0/Thaumaturgy, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Detect Evil and Good, 1/Guiding Bolt, 1/Shield of Faith, 1/Command, 1/Identify
Equipment: Scale Mail, Mace, Shield


----------



## Lazybones

Book 2: STARTER QUEST/FINDING THEIR FOOTING

Chapter 10

The Dry Hills weren’t really that dry, when you got down to it.  While there weren’t any actual forests or meadows full of blooming flowers there was plenty of plant life, from the stubble of weeds that filled in the gaps between the boulders on the stony crests to the sere tangles of brush that populated the low points between the rises.  Travel through the region would have probably been easier if the place _was_ as stark as its name suggested.  They had particular difficulty navigating the gullies thick with thornspike and the prickleburrs that took advantage of every last bit of soil on the steep hillsides.

Occasionally their route led them over a crest that offered an expansive view of the region.  There was a certain stark beauty to this place, but Kosk barely paid it any heed.  He’d spent enough time in places like this in his past, places close enough to the trappings of civilization to be profitable but isolated enough to provide shelter from the searching eyes of those who protected the civilized folk.  It hadn’t been that long ago in terms of years, but in terms of who he had been and who he was now, it may as well have been a lifetime.

Kosk wasn’t the right bastard he’d been back then, but he allowed himself a certain smug pleasure at pressing the children to a hard pace.  He could admit privately that maybe his calves were feeling a bit tight and that the muscles in his back had started to twitch.  He would not have been surprised if the tally of his years was higher than that of his three companions put together.  But he’d put his body through a lot worse both before and after dedicating himself to the monastic path, and he had no difficulty pushing on through the pain.

Around midday—a lingering low overcast made it difficult to tell exactly—they paused for a break along one of the rocky crests.  The boy smith flopped down, exhausted.  The girl, to her credit, seemed better off, but then again she wasn’t carrying around a ridiculous weight of armor and unnecessarily large weapons.  That sword of his might have looked impressive, but Kosk had taken down men like him with nothing more than a dagger.

A different life, the dwarf reminded himself.

Quellan came over to join him.  The half-orc didn’t seem winded, but then again Kosk knew he was the sort who wouldn’t complain even if he had an arm hanging by just a few sinews.  They stood there together in companionable silence while the dwarf checked the map.  They’d agreed Kosk would carry it since he had the most experience with wilderness travel.  He didn’t really need to take a look, as he also had a good memory and they were still a good day at least from the general region where they would find their destination, but it was something to do while he waited for his friend to say his piece.

“You’re pushing them rather hard,” Quellan said finally.

“So?  If they can’t keep up, then they should open their mouths.”

“This may startle you to hear it, but you can be a little intimidating sometimes.”

Kosk snorted, but after a moment shot their resting companions a quick look before returning to his scrutiny of the landscape spread out in front of them.  In a softer voice he said, “You know that the two of them won’t last two seconds if we run into something real bad out here.  You do know that?”

“I think they might surprise you,” Quellan replied.

Kosk happened to glance over at that moment, so he saw the way the cleric’s eyes flicked over at the others as he turned to leave.  Saw the way they lingered in one spot in particular.

“Oh, lad, you’re asking for trouble,” the dwarf muttered under his breath.

The terrain grew even more rugged as the day went on, and their pace slowed regardless of Kosk’s efforts.  The hills grew steeper, forcing them to go around rather than over them, though that hardly made the journey easier.  At one point they made their way into a ravine that offered no way out, forcing them to backtrack and lose a full hour’s progress.  They found just enough sources of water to keep their bottles full and ease worries of a shortage.  Quellan had prepared a spell that would cleanse any impurities out of any standing pools they encountered, but thus they had found just enough flowing streams and springs that they hadn’t had to use his magic.

They were moving though a strand of scattered trees interspersed with knots of dry thornspike when Kosk felt a sudden premonition of danger.  He’d long since learned to trust his instincts, but as he scanned their surroundings he detected no obvious threats.  He’d heard small animals scurrying deeper into the undergrowth at their approach and they’d startled the occasional cluster of small birds into flight over the course of the day, but this felt different.

He glanced back at the others.  They’d gotten a bit strung out, though Quellan was only about fifteen paces back and the girl, bringing up the rear, was maybe twice that.  In between them the boy smith was trudging with his head lowered, apparently completely oblivious to his surroundings.  Kosk had to bite back a curse.

Quellan looked up and obviously saw something on his friend’s face, for he reached for his mace.  “What…” he began.

He didn’t get a chance to finish his question before an arrow shot out from the trees.  It narrowly missed the cleric and shattered against a rock a bit further down the slope.

That got the smith’s attention, as his head shot up and his eyes grew wide.  “Ambush!” he yelled.

_No kidding_, Kosk thought as he dove for cover.


----------



## ajanders

Lazybones is back!!
*Insert happy dance*


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 11

As soon as Bredan realized they were under attack, he shouted a warning to his companions and reached for his sword.  He didn’t panic, but as he tried to unfasten his baldric and swing the weapon around it got caught up in the straps of his pack.  He tried to swing the pack off but that got caught too as the crossbow attached to the back became tangled in his coat.

Cursing, he looked up and realized two things: first that the unseen archer still hadn’t revealed himself, and second that he was the only one still standing out in the open.

Kosk might have laughed as he watched the smith’s idiotic antics, except for that fact that the boy was about to get himself killed.  Whoever had shot at Quellan had not revealed himself, but there could easily be a dozen enemies hidden among the trees that flanked their route.  The dwarf was well-protected behind a protruding stone, while Quellan had likewise found good cover a bit further down the slope.  But he heard a clatter of rocks from further back and knew that the girl was probably about to do something stupid to save her idiot friend, like charge blindly into the ambush.  That might be why they hadn’t shot the boy yet, and were waiting for someone to come to his aid.

Growling, the dwarf grabbed hold of his quarterstaff and leapt over the rock, poised to charge into the trees.

But he didn’t get a chance to cover more than a few steps when a loud voice cried, “Hold!  We mean you no harm!”

_Then why’d you shoot a bloody arrow at us?_ Kosk almost shouted back, but instead he said, “Show yourself!”

A figure appeared from the cover of the trees.  The muscles in Kosk’s arms twitched when he saw that it was an elf.  He carried a bow that he held over his head in one hand, the other held out to show it was empty.  There were a few subtle motions behind him to suggest he wasn’t alone.

“I apologize for the attack,” the elf said.  “I am Calevas, eldritch knight of the Order of the Il’duir.  We are from the Silent Wood, and we are here tracking a party of orcs.”  He gestured toward Quellan as if to explain the nature of the mistake.

The cleric rose slowly up out of cover.  “No harm was done,” he said.  “We haven’t come upon any sign of such a party, though we have only been in the hills for a day and a half.”

“You are a priest?” the elf asked, nodding toward Quellan’s holy symbol.

“I serve the god of knowledge,” Quellan said.  “We’re from Crosspath, heading toward the Godstones.”

“You got some friends back there?” Kosk asked.  He knew Quellan would chatter all day if given the chance, and he still wasn’t all that sure whether the elf was just trying to draw them out to give his friends a better shot.  He glanced back and saw that the smith had finally managed to get his sword out, though he was smart enough to keep it in its scabbard.  The girl was standing at his shoulder, her own bow at the ready with an arrow at the string but pointed at the ground.

Calevas slowly raised his free hand and four more elves emerged from the trees.  Kosk recognized them as wood elves, dressed for the hunt in swirls of pale colors that blended with the landscape.  They looked rather wild, with streaks of pigments darkening their faces and bits of foliage woven into their hair.  That was one reason why humans sometimes called the residents of the Silent Wood “wild elves,” in contrast to the southern elves of Tal Nalesh or the Spiralspire.  That was just like humans, to judge everyone against their own standards of what they thought civilization should be like.  Kosk thought he could pick out the one who’d made the shot; he stood a bit back from the others and didn’t quite meet their eyes.

“The Silent Wood’s a long way away,” Quellan said.  “You have been tracking these orcs for a long time?”

“Since they entered the forest a week ago,” Calevas said.  “The ones we chase are just the survivors of that intrusion, numbering perhaps a score.  They left more than a hundred of their brethren dead behind them.”

“That’s not much of a war band,” Kosk said.  “Sounds like they were either stupid or desperate, to enter the Wood like that.”

“They paid for their mistake,” the elf said simply.

“I hope that you find them,” Quellan said.  “Believe me, I know full well that their kind are capable of.”

Calevas stared at him for a long moment before nodding.  “If you should find them before us, the elves of the Silent Wood will pay a bounty for proof of kills.”

“Proof?” Glori asked.

“Usually taking the ears is the easiest way,” Kosk said.  The girl didn’t say anything, but her lips twisted in disgust or disapproval.

“It grows late,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps you would like to share camp with us?”

The elf leader shook his head.  “No.  We still have a great deal of terrain to cover.  You are certain it is clear to the south?”

“We said we didn’t see anything,” Kosk said.

“Very well.  Safe travels.”  Without waiting for a response he turned and vanished back into the trees at a sprint, his companions falling in behind him.  The elf that had almost shot Quellan shot them one last look that might have meant anything before he, too, was gone.

“Well now, that was a bit of excitement,” Quellan said.

“Do they really cut off ears as trophies?” Glori said.

“If you saw what an orc raiding party could do, you’d be less squeamish,” Kosk said.

“The enmity between the elves of the northern woods and the orc tribes of the mountains is a deep one,” Quellan said.  “We’re not in a position to judge them.”

“They didn’t seem that interested in what we are doing in the Dry Hills,” Glori noted.

“I doubt they care,” Kosk said.  “The wood elves generally prefer to stay in their forests.  That they’d come this far south testifies to the grudge they bear.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into these orcs,” Bredan said.  He still looked a bit sheepish from his earlier misadventure.

Kosk shot him a hard look, but finally nodded.  “We’d better start looking for someplace secure to bed down for the night.  Hopefully them elves will clear the immediate area for us, but you never know what you’ll find in a place like this.”

“With luck, this encounter will be enough adventure for one day,” Quellan said.

As they prepared to resume their march, Glori went over to Quellan and said, “You were pretty mild to that elf who nearly shot you.”

“An honest mistake,” Quellan said.  “I wish I could say it was the first time something like that had ever happened.”

“Don’t worry, that elf’ll be in trouble when he gets back home,” Kosk said.

“Why?” Glori asked.  “Because he almost shot a priest of Hosrenu?”

The dwarf shook his head.  “No.  Because he missed such an easy shot.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 12

Their second night in the Dry Hills was quiet and unremarkable.  The night passed swiftly for those wrapped in their bedrolls, slowly for those awake on watch.  The encounter with the elves had put them all on edge, and once they had eaten their evening meal they let the fire go out, leaving them to shiver in their blankets before exhaustion finally dragged them under.

The sense of gloom lingered over breakfast.  They ate quickly and collected all their gear, cleaning up any sign of their presence as best they could before setting out again.  The morning overcast lingered as the day went on, accompanied by a hard wind that gusted through the gaps between the hills, tugging at their cloaks and rustling the dry brush.

The terrain remained just as difficult as it had been the day before, but it was clear that they were making progress.  When in the dells with their thickets of thorny brush and labyrinths of boulders it felt like they were crawling, but occasionally they would reach a crest to get an expansive view of both the ground they’d covered and the route ahead.  For most of the morning the hills ahead had seemed to grow, until they climbed yet another ridge around noon to see a series of tall bluffs ahead of them.

“The Godstones,” Glori said.  Kosk consulted the map briefly then led them forward again.

As they drew nearer to their destination the landscape changed subtly, the spaces between the hills growing wider.  The Dry Hills remained true to their name, with streams or waterholes rare enough that they filled up all their bottles each time they found a source.  Bredan’s father had taught him a little bit about survival in the wilderness, including how to find water and which plants were safe to eat, but for the most part they had to rely upon the stores they’d brought with them.  The smith realized that his earlier thoughts about hunting to augment their rations had been foolish; the creatures of the Dry Hills clearly knew how to remain hidden.

The sun was just starting to peek out from behind the clouds when their path wound down from yet another ridge into a forest.  The trees, mostly oaks and other broadleaf varieties that could tolerate the drought, remained scattered enough that they could always see the sky above.  The ubiquitous scrub brush thinned only slightly, forcing them into frequent detours around particularly dense knots of growth.

They were navigating their way around one such cluster when Bredan came to a sudden stop.  Glori, following behind him, immediately reached for her bow.  “What is it?  Orcs?”

“There’s something over there,” he said, pointing to a spot in the shade of a pair of interlaced oaks maybe fifty feet away.  Glori came up next to him and followed his outstretched finger with her gaze to what looked like the rotted remains of a third tree that had fallen between them.  The branches of the two trees were woven together like lovers’ fingers, but just enough sunlight made it through their canopy to gleam off of something metallic.

“Hey, Quellan, Kosk!” Glori hissed.  The pair had gotten a good distance ahead, with Kosk setting his usual brisk pace, but when the bard plucked a single string on her lyre they heard and came back to rejoin them.  “What is it?” Kosk asked impatiently.

“There’s something metal over there, under those trees,” Glori reported.  Bredan had unfastened his sword, but he kept it in its scabbard as he regarded the trees with wary suspicion.

“Think there might be someone waiting over there in ambush?” Glori whispered.

“No,” Kosk said.  “If there was someone there, they’d have moved when they saw they had been marked.”  But he kept his attention focused on the glimmer they could all now see clearly.

“Do you hear something?” Bredan asked.

They all listened, but all they heard was the faint rustle of the afternoon breeze.  “What did you hear?” Quellan asked.

“Not sure.  Something moving.”

“Could have been a small animal taking cover,” Kosk said.  But his wariness hadn’t eased.  “All right, let’s go check it out.  Real slow.”

“Oh, sure, _now_ he wants to go slow,” Bredan said under his breath.  But he accompanied the others forward.

The four companions spread out as they approached the fallen tree.  There wasn’t much of it left, the trunk and exposed roots riddled with holes wrought by insects and decay.  But as they entered the ring of shade under the two standing oaks they could just make out the outline of something that didn’t quite fit.

“Is that… a body?” Glori asked.

The others didn’t get a chance to answer, as they all heard the sound that had alerted Bredan earlier: the sudden rush of flapping wings.  They didn’t have to wonder long at the source as half a dozen small flying creatures erupted from under and around the rotten trunk of the fallen tree.  The companions only got a moment to register leathery wings, hooked legs, and long, thin snouts before the things let out a collective shriek and dove at them.

“Gah!” Glori shouted as the creatures attacked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 13

Glori had her bow ready and fired off a shot at the first of the monsters that dove at her.  But her aim was hasty and the arrow narrowly missed.  She let out a startled cry as her target swept down at her, its claws snapping for purchase as it brushed past her head.

Bredan tried to move to her aid but was intercepted by a pair of the things.  He didn’t think, just moved into a ready stance and chopped down with his sword.  The heavy blade tore through the first creature’s wing and into its body, cleaving it almost in two.  The thing let out a squeak and collapsed to the ground, still twitching.

The other one tried to take advantage of its comrade’s sacrifice, diving toward Bredan’s face.  But he reacted as if the attack had been a high swing, ducking under it and spinning around to bring his sword up into a defensive stance.  The creature flapped its wings madly and reoriented itself before coming at him again.

Kosk and Quellan met more of the things together.  Quellan struck one with his mace and knocked another aside with his shield.  Kosk merely waited until his foe was extending its claws to seize hold of his robe, then at the last instant he drove his staff up under its neck.  The monster flopped over and landed on its back, still struggling until the monk stomped on it with a sandaled foot.

Glori let out a shriek and yelled, “Get it off me!”  As she spun around, trying to reach around with her bow, the others could see the creature clinging to her back.

Bredan’s second foe was fluttering around in the branches of the oak trees, staying out of reach of his sword, but the smith came immediately to the bard’s aid.  She saw him and stopped spinning, but as he lifted his sword he hesitated, perhaps aware that he could end up doing more harm than good if he missed his target.

Before he could think of something else to do Quellan stepped between them.  The half-orc reached out and seized hold of the creature on Glori’s back.  They could all hear the thing’s bones snapping as the priest’s meaty fingers tightened around its body.  But it refused to release its grip until Quellan literally tore it free, the sharp tip of its snout glistening red with Glori’s blood.

Bredan started to ask if she was all right, but she interrupted with a pointed finger and a shout of warning.  The creature that the smith had been fighting had taken advantage of his distraction and dove at his back.  He spun around and raised his sword.  He wasn’t fast enough to chop it out of the air like he had the first, but he managed to clip one wing with the crossguard of his sword.  The creature bounced off his arm and fluttered to the ground.  Unable to fly, it kept trying to get close enough to hook its hooked claw-feet around one of his legs.  With a look of distaste Bredan pinned it to the ground with his sword, waiting until it stopped moving before he stepped on its intact wing and yanked his blade free.

“Hold still, lad,” Kosk said as he came up behind Quellan.  Glori turned and her eyes widened as she saw another of the things clinging to the back of the cleric’s left shoulder.  Quellan didn’t betray any reaction as the monk crushed the bloodsucking monster with a blow from his staff.  Once it was dead the cleric reached back and pulled it free, grimacing as the proboscis tore his skin on the way out.

Bredan looked around to make sure there were no more of them before he moved to Glori’s side.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she shivered.  “What were those things?”

“My people call them _strix_,” Kosk said.  “Stirges, I think is the common name.  They are pretty common in the underground realms.”

“Stirges,” Glori said with disgust.  “Hideous things.”

“It looks like it got a bite out of you,” Bredan said, checking her back.

“It would have gotten a lot more if it had the chance,” Glori said.  She turned to Quellan.  The half-orc was wiping his bloody hand on a piece of cloth, but he looked a bit disconcerted at her words.  “I’m sorry I panicked,” she said.  “I bet that one wouldn’t have gotten you if you hadn’t come to help me.”

“No one was seriously harmed,” Quellan said.  “To be on the safe side, I should heal your wound so that it does not become infected.”

“Only if you let me fix yours,” she said.  She started to put her bow down and reached for her lyre, only to spin back around as they heard the sound of wood snapping.  All three of them turned and lifted their weapons only to see Kosk probing into the fallen tree with his staff.

“No more of them,” the dwarf said, seemingly unaware or unconcerned with the alarm he’d caused.  “But this is interesting.”

The others came forward, their wounds momentarily forgotten now that they could examine what had lured them here in the first place.  There was a corpse half-buried in the exposed and sagging roots of the fallen tree.  He—if it had been a he—had clearly been there a long time.

“He was a warrior,” Bredan said, kneeling to examine the mail links that were visible through the gaps in the mud and growth that covered the remains.  But the armor was completely ruined, as was the axe blade and rusted dagger he pried up out of the ground nearby.

“He had this,” Kosk said.  He held up a silver brooch, a circular cloak pin shaped to resemble three serpents wound together in an endless loop.  The silver was still bright and untarnished.  Clearly that had been what they’d seen in the stray beam of sunlight.

Glori looked at the brooch in the dwarf’s hand, clearly interested.  “What are those gems in the snakes’ eyes?  Tiny emeralds?”

“Too light in color,” Kosk noted.  “Peridots, I’d guess.”

Glori looked at him in surprise, then returned her attention to the brooch.  “It’s not tarnished at all.  Magic?”

That last was directed at the group in general, but Kosk said, “Maybe.”  For a moment he regarded the find with interest, but then suddenly he thrust it at Glori.  “Take it.  We can look at it later, once we’re well away from this place.  There might be more of those things out hunting, and they could come back at any time.”

That suggestion got them moving again.  Quellan and Glori each healed the other’s injuries.  Bredan watched them work their spells.  He was already familiar with the magic of Glori’s lyre, though watching it being worked still continued to amaze him.  The cleric’s magic was more conventional; he just held his holy symbol and chanted a prayer before touching two of his huge fingers to the bard’s back.  A blue glow briefly suffused the area around the puncture wound before it faded to reveal unmarked skin.  Glori noticed him watching and winked at him before pulling her coat back on.

“Do you think we’re getting close?” Bredan asked Kosk.

“We’re not getting any closer standing here,” the monk replied.  He trudged across the clearing under the trees and continued in that brisk pace he had that ate up strides as quickly as his longer-legged companions.

“Is he always like this?” Bredan asked.

“Pretty much,” Quellan said.

“Look at it this way,” Glori said, pinning the brooch to her coat.  “We beat some monsters and found some treasure.  We’re already halfway to becoming heroes.”  With a final smile at Quellan, she marched after the fast-receding dwarf.

The young smith and the cleric shared a look.  “Pretty much,” Bredan said to the unanswered question.  They shared a laugh that quickly faded as they gave the gory scene of their first encounter one last look before they hurried to catch up with their companions.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 14

Bredan looked up through the gap in the trees at the bluff that rose up in front of them.  It wasn’t the largest of the massive formations that the map and Glori had called the Godstones, but it was still impressive.  Bredan could see where the name had come from.  It was as if someone had constructed a series of giant stone citadels atop this region of the Dry Hills.  The mesas rose up hundreds of feet above the highest of the hills that had given them so much trouble over the last few days.

The one in front of them had a distinctive feature, a cleft in one side that looked like a blow from a colossal giant’s axe.  According to Starfinder’s instructions and the map, that was where they would find the entrance to the ancient shrine.

“I have to give you credit, you got us here,” Glori said to Kosk.  “Impressive, isn’t it?”

The dwarf snorted.  “Any idiot can follow a map.”  But he did not look displeased at the comment.

“The question now is, do we set up camp before making our approach?” Quellan said.  “We’ll need to wait for morning before attempting the ascent, in any case.”

They all looked west, where the late afternoon sun was steadily dropping toward the distant horizon.

“We might as well get closer,” Kosk suggested.  “Likely to be better shelter along the base of the bluff, and it cuts down on the directions an enemy can approach the camp.”

“What if someone else comes looking for the shrine?” Bredan asked.

“Well then, we’ll be in a better position to deal with them, no?” the dwarf said.

They made their way back into the forest, which grew thicker around them.  From their vantage it had looked as though they still had a good hike ahead to get to the bluff, but the ground began to rise almost immediately.  They passed boulders the size of wagons and even a few that were the size of a farmer’s cottage, forcing them to circle around.  The shadows around them deepened as the day faded and Bredan found himself seeing threats in each of them.  He took some solace in the fact that both Glori and Quellan looked equally jumpy.  Only Kosk seemed unaffected, trudging up the rise with his usual brisk pace.  Bredan tried to ignore the twinges in his legs as the change in slope added fresh strain on already tired muscles.  He thought about unlimbering his crossbow, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it.  He hitched up his baldric so that the buckle was in easy reach and hurried after the others.

They were approaching another of the massive rocks when Kosk suddenly stopped and held his hand up in warning.  The others tensed and listened.  “What is it?” Bredan finally hissed.

“Wood smoke,” Kosk said without turning.

Bredan sniffed the air and smelled it, just a hint on the gentle breeze.  The trees were thick enough that he couldn’t see the source, but it had to be pretty close given how little wind there was.

“All right, let’s check it out,” Kosk said.  Bredan was about to unsling his pack to get the bow when an old woman stepped out from behind the boulder.

“You must be here for the shrine,” she said.

They all jumped a bit, even Kosk, though the woman made no hostile moves.  She was human and looked to be about sixty.  She was dressed in a simple wool robe and appeared to be unarmed, though the oddity of her presence here kept the four adventurers on edge.  “Who are you?” Quellan asked.  “And what are you doing here?” Kosk added.

“My name is Arras.  I am a scholar of ancient lore.  Perhaps not unlike whoever sent you here?”

“You seem to know a lot about us,” Quellan suggested.

“I only make assumptions based upon the evidence that is in front of me.”

“We could be bandits,” Kosk said.

“I find it doubtful that a priest of Hosrenu would be in such a company.  Or a musician, or a monk of the Open Hand.”  She gave Bredan a quick look but didn’t add a comment; maybe she thought he did look like a bandit, he thought.  He had the resist a sudden impulse to straighten his hair.

“So you are interested in the Eth’barat?” Glori asked.

“Of course.  I would hardly come all this way out into the middle of nowhere otherwise.”

“Are you alone?” Kosk asked her.

“I was,” Arras said with a smile.  “I have a camp not far from here.  It’s getting late, and I’ll be happy answer all of your questions there.”

The others shared a look that clearly said they were all on the same page in terms of trust, but finally Glori shrugged and said under her breath, “Better to know more than less, I suppose.”  In a more normal voice she said to the old woman, “Lead on!”

Arras’s camp was in small dell formed between two ridges of exposed stone that jutted out from the mass of the bluff.  They couldn’t see the cleft from that vantage, but based on the way that the ground rose up steeply ahead they had to be close.

As if reading their minds, Arras said, “We’re close.  There’s a path that leads up into the cleft.  The entrance to the shrine is about halfway up.  Watch your step, there.”

The smoke they’d smelled earlier rose from a small campfire concealed within a shallow pit.  A thin iron frame that could support a pot was erected over it.  Other common items were scattered around the camp, including a bedroll and a few extra blankets, an assortment of waterskins, pouches, and sacks, and a line of extra clothes drying between two trees.  The secret of how she’d gotten everything out here was explained by the mule that was cropping grass near the back of the dell.  The beast gave them a brief look as they came into the camp and then went back to its supper.

“It looks like you’ve been here for a while,” Quellan said.

“A few weeks,” Arras said.  “Unfortunately I have been having some difficulty gaining access to the shrine.”

“Is there a seal?” Kosk asked as she strode around the camp in a circle, taking in every detail while not turning his back on the old woman.

“No, it’s open, but there’s a creature guarding the entrance.  And the bugbears that went up there a few days ago are another potential problem.”

“Wait, creature?” Bredan asked.

“Bugbears?” Glori added.

Quellan held up a hand.  “I think you’d better tell us what’s going on here.”

“Certainly.  But first, let me get you a drink.  I think I have a little plum wine left in one of the panniers...”

“That’s okay, we don’t need anything,” Quellan said.

“I insist,” Arras said.  “After all, you haven’t told me anything about yourselves yet, or what _you_ are doing here.  And if you are in fact a priest of Hosrenu, then you know about the rules of hospitality.  Not that there’s anything I could do if in fact you proved to be… unpleasant,” she said with a notable look at Kosk, “but I would feel better if we went through the formalities.”

With that she strode past the dwarf and moved to the back of the camp, past where the mule was tethered to a sheltered niche where several wicker panniers had been carefully arranged under a tarp.  She briefly passed out of their view as she bent under the cover and began digging through her supplies.

As soon as she was out of direct line of sight Glori turned to Quellan and Bredan and hissed, “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Quellan asked.

“Come on… do you really think this old woman could have survived out here alone for weeks?”

Quellan looked at her in confusion.  “Well, obviously she did…” but Bredan took her arm and murmured, “What are you saying?  That she’s some kind of witch or something?”

Glori said, “Look, I know most of the stories I tell are just… well, a lot of them are exaggerated.  But others… I mean, you meet a strange old woman in the middle of nowhere, no, right next to some _weird magical shrine_, and she’s insisting on offering us a drink…”

“You’re the one who wanted to come here!” Bredan hissed.

“There is no evidence she’s anything other than what she says she is,” Quellan said.

“Just ask yourself, what chance is it that she’s just some old woman who happens to be an expert at survival in a place like the Dry Hills…”

“Maybe she’s in league with those bugbears,” Bredan whispered.

Quellan let out an exasperated sigh.  “We only know about them because _she_ told us about them,” he reminded them.

“She’s coming back,” Kosk warned in a soft voice.  He was still over by the campfire, but from the look on his face he’d listened in on their entire conversation.

Arras seemed unperturbed as she returned to the main camp.  She was holding a small bottle and a handful of cups.  “I’m sorry, I don’t have enough cups for everyone, you’ll need to share.”

“Really, it’s okay, we don’t need anything,” Bredan said.  “We’re fine.”

“You should ask your cleric friend to explain the rules of hospitality,” the old woman said as she uncorked the bottle and poured a splash of pale liquid into one of the cups.  “Not enough of you young people value the old traditions.”

“If we don’t value those traditions, why is it so important that we do this?” Glori asked.

“Call me old-fashioned.”  She held the cup out to Kosk.  “Here, master dwarf, drink.  I know it’s not ale, but…”

Kosk held out the cup and turned it upside down, spilling the liquid on the stones along the edge of the firepit.

“Well now, that’s rude,” Arras said.  “I think…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, as he snapped out a fist and punched her hard in the face.


----------



## carborundum

Crikey!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 15

The old woman crumpled, and nearly fell into the fire before she rolled over and lay in a lifeless heap upon the ground.

The dwarf’s three companions stood staring for a shocked moment.  “What in the hells did you do that for?” Bredan finally blurted.

“She was lying,” Kosk said.

Quellan hurried forward and knelt beside the old woman.  Blood smeared the lower half of her face and continued to pulse from her nostrils.

“Is she dead?” Glori asked.

“I just knocked her out,” Kosk said, but he watched intently while Quellan checked her pulse.  “She’s alive,” the cleric confirmed.

Bredan circled around the fire.  “You can’t just punch an old woman in the face!”

“You said she might be a witch,” Kosk said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but… we don’t know that!” Bredan yelled back.

“Um… better keep your voice down,” Glori said.  She took a wary look around the dell, but the only other witness was the mule, which continued to munch on the grass disinterestedly.  “I do have to admit that I wouldn’t expect a witch to go down so easily.”

“Yes, see!”  Bredan said, pointing at her.

“What’s done is done,” Kosk said.

Bredan threw up his hands.  “What’s wrong with you?”

At that Kosk turned suddenly and stepped up until he was well within arm’s reach of the smith.  “Careful, boy,” he said.

Bredan tensed but didn’t retreat.  “Or else what, you’ll punch me in the face?” he asked.

A tense moment followed, finally interrupted when the cleric said, “She’s coming around.”

They all stepped back to give the cleric some room.  The old woman groaned and stirred.  Her eyelids fluttered open, but her eyes remained vacant for a moment before they focused on Quellan.  Then they widened and she sucked in a startled breath.

“Take it easy, stay calm,” Quellan said.  “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”

She drew back but didn’t try to get up.  She reached up and touched her face, but the sight of her blood on her fingers didn’t cause her to panic.  Instead she sent a venomous look around the circle of observers.  “You hit me.”

“I’m sorry, there was a misunderstanding on our part,” Quellan said.

“On mine as well,” Arras said.  “Maybe that symbol you’re wearing doesn’t mean what I think.  Or maybe blood tells.”

Quellan flinched as if he’d hit her, but Kosk stepped forward.  “You must admit it’s strange, an old woman out here all alone.  The Dry Hills are dangerous, and you could have been…”

“A witch?  An old hag, like from the stories?”  She shot a look at Glori, who looked away, abashed.  “Well, I wish I was, then I’d turn the lot of you into bloody slugs.”

Kosk, however, wouldn’t yield.  “You pushed that wine on us rather suspiciously.”

She started to get up and the monk shifted slightly, but she only leaned over to where the bottle of wine and the cups had fallen.  She filled one of the cups and drank it down in a single gulp.  “Satisfied?”

“Look, we’re sorry, but as I said, it was a misunderstanding,” Quellan said.  “Maybe we can all settle down, talk more about what you said earlier, about the bugbears, the guardian…”

“I hope they flay you alive, either one,” she said.  She got up and walked over to the line of laundry.  She took a piece of cloth and soaked it from a nearby waterskin, then used it to rub the blood off her face.  “You can do whatever you please, but you get out of my camp, and don’t let me see you back here.”

“Or else what?” Kosk asked.

She glared at him, but Quellan quickly stepped forward.  “We’ll leave.  But before we go, I’m a cleric, I can heal you…”

“I’m fine,” she said.  “Get out.”

Bredan didn’t realize how late it had gotten until they left the camp and the glow of the fire behind them.  But there was still enough lingering light for him to stay with the others as they made their way back into the forest.  His companions, naturally, had no difficulty, and he envied them their darksight.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Glori finally said.

“Think she’ll try to kill us in our sleep?” Kosk asked.

“If she does, I’m sure you can beat the crap out of her,” Bredan said.

“Look, boy…”

“All right, leave it,” Quellan said, again stepping between them.  “Just let it be.  It’s getting dark, and we need to find another place that’s safe to rest.”

“If she was telling the truth about the guardian and those bugbears, there may not be a safe place anywhere around here,” Bredan said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to run into a bugbear, day or night,” Glori said.

“They’re just big goblins,” Kosk said.  “You can wait for us down here if you want.”

“Are you calling us cowards?” Bredan asked.

“I’m just saying that…”

Quellan suddenly stopped and turned so quickly that Glori nearly ran into him.  “Look, just… just stop,” he said, holding up his hands toward the other two men.  “We all knew that this trip could be dangerous, but we can’t afford to turn on each other, not here, not now.  Regardless of what just happened, we have to pull together.”

For a moment they all just stood there in silence.  Bredan again regretted not being able to see his companion’s faces in the deepening twilight.  But a moment later Glori took his hand in hers, and he could feel reassurance seeping into him from that contact.

“We passed a spot a ways back that could serve,” Kosk said.  Without waiting for confirmation from the others he trudged back down the slope.

Quellan looked back at Bredan and Glori, then shrugged and headed after the dwarf.

“I hope we haven’t made a big mistake here,” Bredan said.

“It’ll be all right,” Glori replied.  “You’ll see.  Come on, we shouldn’t get separated.”

Neither of them saw the glistening eyes that watched their progress from under the half-exposed roots of a nearby tree.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 16

The monster was chasing Bredan through a dark forest.

He could hear it behind him, the harsh rasp of its breathing punctuated by rhythmic thuds of its claws tearing into the ground with each long stride.  He couldn’t look back, didn’t dare shift his attention from the uneven ground ahead of him, but he could tell that it was getting closer.

Gnarled black trees with branches like deformed limbs rose up all around him.  But they offered no hope of shelter; he already knew that if he tried to climb one it would crumble into ash.  There was already a thick layer of it under his feet, slowing him just a little bit with each step he took.

The monster, apparently, had no such difficulties.

He didn’t have a weapon, and there was nothing around him with which he could defend himself.  The trees didn’t leave anything behind but ash, and there were no stones, nothing he could pick up to try to hold off his pursuer.  All he could do was keep running.

And then the forest ended, and a sharp cliff of crumbling stone rose up ahead of him.  The cliff curved inward to his left and right, as if it had been set here as a trap, to pen him in.

As he looked around for a possible route of escape he saw the monster.

It had slowed down, confident now that its prey was trapped.  It was a horrid combination of creatures.  It had the furry, muscled body of a bear, down to the sharp curving claws that left gashes in the ashen soil with each step.  But its head was insectoid, with huge multi-faced eyes and snapping mandibles that framed a mouth that dripped terrible acidic goo.  It had a long snout that terminated in a point that stirred a memory, a hint that something wasn’t quite right.

But he didn’t get a chance to think it over as the monstrosity charged at him.

He ran toward the cliff, hoping against hope that he could climb it.  But even as he placed his hands on the rock they crumbled at his touch, and he slumped back down.  The rest of the cliff remained unflinchingly solid, offering no escape.

He turned around, his eyes wide, his mouth opening to scream.  But before the sound could escape him he felt the bug-bear’s long proboscis plunging into his belly, deeper and deeper…

* * *

Bredan’s eyes flashed open as pain jolted through his stomach.  He reached down to grasp at the shaft he’d felt impaling him, but there was nothing there, just his coat and the layer of armor underneath it.  Even as his addled brain took that in the pain faded and he sucked in a deep breath.  Looking up, he saw that Kosk was standing over him, his staff in his hand.

“You fell asleep,” the dwarf said.  His voice was like the iron that covered the ends of his staff, hard and unyielding.

Bredan blinked and looked around.  The camp was as he remembered it from the night before, when Quellan had woken him to stand his watch.  The others were just stirring from their bedrolls.  It was morning, though early enough that the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance above the horizon.

Morning.

His watch.

He’d fallen asleep.

“Sorry…” he mumbled as he started to get up.  But Kosk’s staff flashed out, intercepting him.  Bredan flinched, but the end stopped just short of impact, instead just pushing lightly into his chest.

“Sorry?” the dwarf asked.  “You fell asleep on watch.  It’s only blind luck that we weren’t all killed while you took your rest.  Or have you forgotten the events of yesterday?”

“I said I was sorry,” Bredan said.  That was as much to Glori and Quellan as to the dwarf, as the others had roused themselves enough to follow the exchange.  Glori tugged her blanket around her body to ward off the morning chill.

“Sorry won’t keep you alive out here,” the dwarf said with disgust.  He pulled down his staff and started to walk away.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one that set a pace that left us all worn down and exhausted,” Bredan said.  “I made a mistake, and I own that, but damn it, we’re not made of iron.”

The dwarf turned back slowly, and from the look in his eyes there was a battle brewing there, but Quellan quickly intervened, stepping between them.  Kosk said, “You’d be better off letting us clear this up once and for all, lad.  This boy needs some sense pounded into him.”

“Fine with me,” Bredan snarled back.  “I’m not a rock, I’ll fight back.”

“While I admit that I would take a certain pleasure in watching you two beat the living crap out of each other, this is neither the time nor the place,” Quellan said.  “We have a lot more to do today than…”

He trailed off as soft music filled the clearing.  The three men turned to see Glori sitting on the stones at the edge of their camp, her lyre cradled in her lap.  The bard continued her playing, her fingers dancing over the strings of the instrument, her plectrum plucking out the notes.  The melody started slowly, soft and almost sad, but it quickly built in pace and intensity.  She added a martial tone, evocative of soldiers preparing themselves for battle.  That passage transitioned into a march, the sharp notes sounding like the endless trudging of booted feet over a long road.  But under that cadence something else was growing, a buildup of energy toward an inevitable confrontation.  Just when it seemed that the song would erupt in a clash of arms the melody shifted once more, returning the long plaintive sounds of calm and peace with which she had started.  The sense of loss that had been present then was now almost palpable, the notes full of regret and sadness.

When she finally finished the three men just stood there watching her.  Bredan had heard her place that piece of music before; she’d called it “Alephron’s Regret.”  But here, on a dim morning in the middle of nowhere, it had sounded completely different than it had when played in the background of a busy tavern.  For a moment he’d thought he was actually there, marching along with Alephron and his armies to the final confrontation with the Dead King.

From the looks on their faces their other companions had been likewise affected.  Quellan’s eyes glistened with a bright sheen.  “That was…” the cleric began, but he couldn’t finish the thought.

Glori tucked her pick into one of the high pockets of her coat, then took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh before hopping suddenly to her feet.

“All right, who’s ready to start the day?” she said.

The sun had risen when they finally set out, though it remained hidden behind low clouds that promised another gloomy day.  They deliberately avoided the old woman’s camp, but they had no difficulty finding the trail that led up to the cleft in the side of the bluff.  The ascent was steep but manageable.  They encountered a few places where loose rocks made the climb treacherous, but Kosk’s adage about the usefulness of rope proved true and they were able to manage that portion of the route without anything more serious than a few skinned knees.

Once they actually made it into the cleft the trail leveled out some, which was helpful given that the weak sunlight all but disappeared.  As they passed out of the light into the narrow interior of the cleft Bredan felt a moment of panic; the shadowed shaft reminded him vividly of the dark landscape of his dream.  But after a moment that premonition eased, and once his eyes adjusted he could see enough to make his way forward.

Glori paused, perhaps sensing that something was wrong.  Looking back, she asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.  Though I’m finding myself envious of your eyes.”

She smiled.  “We could light torches…”

“No, I’m fine for now.  I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.”

“You lovebirds coming?” Kosk’s voice drifted down from above.  It had been perhaps too much to hope that the dwarf might have eased his hurried pace a bit now that they were creeping up the side of a mountain toward who knows what, Bredan thought.

The two hurried to catch up but found that their companions were waiting for them not far ahead.  Just beyond them the cleft narrowed until the two sides came together in an abrupt stop.  Above them the cleft extended for another hundred feet to the summit of the bluff, but one look at the sheer cliffs was enough to dissuade them from any interest in that direction.

But there was no need to climb; their destination was just ahead.

At the spot where the facing cliffs met there was a dark opening that led into the interior of the bluff.  It was definitely man-made; Bredan could just make out the outline of roughly-hewn steps that led up to it, and it was framed by massive lintel stones that were too smooth and regular to be a natural feature.  He wondered at the effort that would have been required to build this place, so far isolated from any outpost of civilization.  Or had it been magic that had done this, magic of the sort that had brought them here in the first place?

He was so intent on his musing that he didn’t hear what Kosk had said.  “What?”  Bredan asked.  He turned to see that the dwarf—and the others—were unslinging their packs.

The monk shot him a look, but he thankfully didn’t comment on his woolgathering.  “I said, leave your packs and all your heavy gear.  Bedrolls, extra clothes, pots and pans, any food that’s not ready-to-eat.”

Bredan looked up and down the length of the cleft.  There were plenty of places where a pack or a few loose articles might be stashed, but between the four of them… “But what if someone steals our stuff?” he asked.

“If you get caught in a trap or can’t maneuver in a fight, you’ll have a much bigger problem,” Kosk said.

“We’ll bring plenty of torches, so you can see,” Quellan said.  “And if it comes to it, I can summon _light_ with my magic.”

Bredan carefully unslung his pack and found a spot for it in the rocks where it might not be immediately visible to someone coming by.  He had to admit that he’d gotten rather attached to Kesren’s creation, even though it was a relief to get its weight off his back.  He reached inside and took out a few canvas-wrapped torches that he tucked into his belt.

He hesitated over the crossbow.  He had no idea what they would find beyond that dark opening, but he had a pretty good idea that it would involve close quarters.  On the other hand, too close and he wouldn’t have room to use his sword.  Finally he took the bow and the case of bolts; he could always leave them somewhere if they proved too cumbersome and pick them up on the way out.

He paused again when he came upon his set of tools.  Obviously they wouldn’t be doing any smithing here, but he could think of a lot of other situations where the various metalworking instruments could come in handy.  And they were easily contained in the leather wrap that his uncle had given him, which came with its own carrying strap.

He glanced up and saw that the others were all not only ready, but they were all watching him.  He flushed and quickly slung the leather wrap across his opposite shoulder where it wouldn’t interfere with his baldric.  “Ready,” he said.

“Shouldn’t you load that thing?” Quellan asked, indicating the crossbow.

“No,” Bredan and Kosk said simultaneously.  When Kosk just growled Bredan quickly added, “A small draw-operated bow like this, it can’t take the long-term strain on the string and arms that a heavier winch-operated bow can.  Keeping it drawn too long will damage both the strength and accuracy of the weapon.”

“Well, you’re the expert,” the half-orc said.  He took out a torch and a piece of flint, and with a few strikes on the flanges of his mace got the pitch head burning.  He picked up his shield and led the way toward the dark opening, with Kosk just behind him.  Glori and Bredan followed close behind.

The dark opening seemed to drink up the light of the torch, revealing its secrets only reluctantly.  They saw a passage that curved to the left before straightening for as far as the light extended.  The walls and ceiling were stone worked smooth, and there were only a few scattered bits of rock in the entry before the route forward cleared.

The cleric stepped forward warily, shining the torch around before proceeding.  Kosk gave the stone blocks to each side a good look, tapping them with his staff.

“Do you really think there will be a trap right at the entrance?” Glori asked.

Kosk growled something unintelligible, and Quellan explained, “I think we’re better off assuming that everything’s a trap until proven otherwise.”

Bredan remained a few steps back so that he wouldn’t get in the others’ way.  But as he waited he detected something, a sharp scent of something burning that at first he blamed on the cleric’s torch.  But the scent deepened, adding a sulphurous tinge that he recognized from the forge—that smell was a sign of bad coal that wasn’t going to be good for heating metal.  He had no idea what it meant here, but he instinctively knew that it wasn’t good.

Looking around, he saw something that he’d missed initially.  To the left of the entrance, partially hidden behind the mass of the stone that framed the opening, there was a small crevice in the rock, extending under the lintel.  The smell seemed to be coming from that crevice, and as he bent lower to take a closer look he saw that it actually went on for quite a ways, widening a bit beyond that initial gap.

“Um… guys…” he began.

Two red points suddenly materialized within the depths of the crevice, accompanied by a low growl.

“Guys!” Bredan warned.  He stumbled back while reaching for the hook to cock the crossbow.  “I think I found the guardian!”

The others turned quickly to look, but even as Quellan lowered the torch toward the crevice a mass of fur and claws and fury exploded out of the opening and attacked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 17

Quellan reacted instinctively, thrusting his torch into the snapping jaws of the creature.  The monster bit down on it, splattering burning pitch all over its face.  That would have given a normal beast pause, but the flames didn’t seem to have any effect on this… whatever it was.  With its violent thrashing all Quellan could make out was that it was broad with stubby legs and had black fur.  And powerful jaws full of very big teeth, of course.

The creature thrust itself up to attack again, but before it could engage with teeth or claws Glori slid over to the side and shot it in the flank with her bow.  The beast roared and spun to face her, but Quellan moved quickly to keep it penned into the narrow space of the crevice, slamming down his shield to block its progress.  He could feel the impacts shoot up its arm as its claws tore into the layers of wooden boards.  It took all his effort to hold onto the shield and he had no chance to try to grab his mace.  The half-orc tried to plant his feet to hold it back but he was still driven back a full step, then two as the creature continued its furious assault.  With a rasp it snapped one claw up over the rim of the shield, and he knew he couldn’t hold it much longer.

“On your right!” Kosk said, and Quellan shifted slightly to give the dwarf access to his foe.  The monk snapped his staff into the creature’s skull, but if the blow hurt the thing it gave no obvious sign.  Instead it twisted its head around suddenly and seized hold of the end of the weapon in its heavy jaws.  It pulled back with equal fury, so fast that Kosk was drawn in before he could let go.  Even as the staff flipped up into the air the creature lunged at him with its claws, trying to trap the dwarf underneath its bulk.  But Kosk spun and drove a hard punch into its snout, knocking it back just enough for him to dart back out of its reach.

Now driven into a wild frenzy, the creature thrust forward again, knocking Quellan roughly aside and nearly catching Kosk despite his quick retreat.  But as the monk escaped it turned on the cleric, who had no chance to bring his shield back around. The creature opened its jaws impossibly wide then lunged to snap them around Quellan’s exposed leg.

Quellan flinched, but before the monster could seize him it was struck from behind by Bredan.  The smith’s huge sword impaled it through the back, driving down until the tip scraped against the hard stone beneath it.  For a moment it looked like even that wouldn’t stop it, as it reared back in an attempt to bite its tormentor, but then with a last spasm that shook all of its limbs it crumpled and fell still.

For a moment they all just stood there staring down at the carcass, as if half-expecting it to get back up again and resume its assault.

“Is everyone all right?” Quellan asked.  “Did anyone get hurt?”

“I think we’re all okay,” Kosk said.  He prodded the thing’s head with his foot while Bredan stepped onto its back and yanked his sword free.  Now that it was dead they could see what it was: a giant badger, in death remarkable only for its size.  But there had been nothing normal in the way it had attacked, or in the way its eyes had glowed red when it had first lunged up out of the crevice where it made its den.

“That thing… it wasn’t quite right,” Glori said with a shudder.

“You can say that again,” Bredan said.  He glanced over at Kosk as if expecting a comment, but the dwarf gave the dead creature one last look before walking over to where his staff had fallen.  He checked the wood, which had a few fresh gouges near one end but otherwise seemed to be intact.

“Let’s go,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 18

Quellan had no difficulty admitting to himself that he was afraid.  Introspection was a skill that was strongly encouraged within the clergy of Hosrenu, and his particular circumstances had made him especially aware of his own perceptions.  And there was plenty of reason to be concerned, he thought.  Starfinder’s notes had indicated that the Eth’barat trafficked in magic from the Outer Planes, including summoned guardians.  He didn’t know if that badger had been such or if it had just been an unfortunate beast that had become tainted by the power that resided here.  He wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred; either was quite disquieting.

So he had no difficulty acknowledging his fear, but he made a strong effort to conceal it from his companions.  Not out of any sense of bravado; Quellan resisted any behavior that struck him as “orcish.”  But he felt like he had to project an air of stability to protect the group from the discord that seemed to be threatening their common cause.  He had always preferred to avoid conflict, but here their ability to pull together as a team might be a matter of survival.

He was reminded of that in a stark manner as they made their way into the interior of the ancient shrine.  He was in the lead, the light from a fresh torch pushing back the darkness, but they’d barely managed ten steps past the entrance he was greeted with a familiar smell.  He stopped.  The torchlight revealed that the passage opened onto a larger room ahead, but he couldn’t make out any details of what might be inside.

“Ugh, what’s that stink?” Glori asked.

Quellan knew the answer, but he let Kosk answer.  “Death,” the dwarf said.

The smell grew stronger as they approached the room.  The source of it was revealed when the light extended into the chamber.

Death was right, the cleric thought.  The bodies—six of them, he counted—were scattered through the room.  They were all hacked up, a gory mess, and he might not have been able to identify them if the old woman hadn’t warned them to look out for bugbears.  They were imposing even in death, bigger even than the half-orc.  Some of them still held bloody weapons in their hands, suggesting that they might have managed a few hits against whoever or whatever had killed them.

“What is it?” Glori asked.  “What’s there?”

At the bard’s prompt Quellan stepped forward and to the side, clearing the entry so the others could see.  Glori sucked in a startled breath as she took in the scene.  Bredan looked pale, and Quellan wondered if he had ever seen death, violent death, up close like this before.  Kosk took a more practical approach, prodding at the nearest body with his staff.  That one had finally succumbed just a few steps from the entry, leaving behind a trail of blood that extended halfway across the room.

“What killed them?” Bredan asked.  No one had an answer, but Quellan couldn’t shake a feeling that there was something wrong here, a sinister mystery he couldn’t quite identify.

Tearing his attention from the dead bugbears, the cleric examined the rest of the room.  The place was oddly shaped, with angular walls that collectively formed a rough hexagon.  The passage entered on one of the points.  There was another similar passage on the far side of the room, though the torchlight didn’t extend far enough for him to see where it led.

More remarkable were the faces embedded in the walls.  They were stone carvings, four of them, though a scatter of rubble under an uneven patch of wall suggested that there might have once been five.  The stone faces were each about two feet high and only bore the vaguest features.  But they were all subtly different, and as Quellan studied them he realized that they had been crafted to each represent a different emotional state, from joy and sadness to pain and anger.  He idly wondered what the fifth one had depicted.

Kosk had finished his examination of the first dead bugbear and started forward into the room.  “Careful,” Quellan said.

The dwarf shrugged.  “If we aren’t going to turn back then the only way left is forward,” he said.  But it was clear that he too was wary of the place, and he placed each foot carefully as he circled the chamber.  The others followed him in, just as slowly.

“Those faces… they’re creepy,” Bredan said.

Glori gave one a closer look.  “They just look like solid stone.”  She reached out as if to touch it—the carving showing the drooping face of sadness—but then turned back to the corpses clustered in the middle of the room.

“No bugs,” Bredan said suddenly.

The smith’s words stirred an awareness in Quellan’s mind—he was right, the room was devoid of the crawling and flying vermin that should have accompanied this much death.  And for that matter, while the bodies did stink, the stench should have been much worse given the confined space and the length of time they’d been here, assuming the old woman’s account had been accurate.  It was as if the decay that naturally followed death was being held at bay here in this place.

Kosk finished his circuit of the room and returned to the bodies in the center.  He grabbed hold of one by its armor, and with a grunt of effort lifted it up off the ground. Neither he nor any of the others spotted the gleaming axe that was pinned under its torso, and when Glori said, “Hey, over here,” he released the dead bugbear and went over to where she was bent over another of the corpses.

“What is it?” Bredan asked.

“This one’s belt buckle.  Silver, solid silver.  Might be worth twenty, thirty golds.”

Kosk frowned, “We shouldn’t be worried about loot, we should be worried about what killed these bastards.”

“We can worry about both things simultaneously,” Glori said, cutting the buckle free with her knife and tucking it into her belt pouch.

“There’s nothing else here,” Bredan said.  “It’s almost like…”

He trailed off, but Quellan prodded.  “What?  What’s it like?”

The smith swallowed.  “It’s almost like they hacked each other to pieces.”

“We should be moving on,” Kosk said.  But when the dwarf turned he just stood there, staring at the four stone faces.  Some of them were damaged, Quellan saw, chipped as if someone had tried to do to them what had happened to the mysterious missing fifth face.

Seized by a sudden premonition, Quellan stepped back to the entry.  As he passed through the transition between the room and the passage he felt something, a faint tingle on his skin, just a slight pressure holding him back.  It wasn’t enough to stop him, but he felt a cold feeling of dread in his guts as he turned to see the others all looking at him.

“What’s the matter, Quellan?” Glori asked.

“Try to leave,” he said to them.  “Either that doorway, or this one.”

Kosk walked over to the far passage with purpose, but he came to a sudden stop right on the edge of the room.  “I… I can’t,” he said.  “I want to go, I just… I can’t take that extra step.”

Bredan and Glori went over to join Quellan at the entrance.  “I can’t either,” Glori said.  Her words were echoed on Bredan’s face.  “Maybe you can drag us out,” the smith suggested.  “Or knock us out…”

“I don’t think there’s time for that,” Kosk said as he came back toward them.  The dwarf’s expression was a hard grimace, and he clutched his staff with fingers that were white with tension.

“What’s going on?” Glori said.  “What’s happening?”  Whatever the monk was feeling, she clearly was feeling it too as her eyes flicked back and forth wildly, darting from the stone faces to those of her companions.

“Ask them,” Bredan said, nodding toward the dead bugbears.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 19

Kosk’s lips tightened in a snarl and he let out a low growl as he raised his staff and leapt to the attack.

Glori flinched back as the iron-shot staff slammed hard into its target.  The attacks kept coming, one after another, the head of the staff striking like a snake.  She threw up her hands to protect her face as shards of stone shot past.  “Ahh!” she yelled.  “What’s he doing?”

“The faces,” Quellan said, as the dwarf continued smashing one of the stone masks embedded into the walls.  “It’s the faces!”

Bredan turned to another of the stone faces.  To him it seemed like the exaggerated expression of joy was mocking him.  He realized with a start that he had his sword bare in his hands; he did not remember drawing it.  He’d almost swung it, though that would have likely only shattered the steel.  Trying to clear his head, he let the sword fall and reached for his tools.

On realizing his companion’s plan Quellan took out his mace and went to work on the stone face showing pain.  He felt a jolt ring up his arm as he struck it, but nothing otherwise as he started methodically smashing the carving.  Martial notes filled the air as Glori, realizing she had nothing useful for stone-crushing, strummed her lute.  The song was evocative of the march she’d played that morning, the orderly structure of its melody helping to counter the discordant effects of the masks.  Within a few moments her companions’ blows all synchronized to the music, a regular harmonic beat that was offset by the patter of shards bouncing off the walls or floor.

The stone faces might have lasted for centuries, but against the determined assault of three strong men they could not stand.  Kosk was the first to complete his destruction, but as his mask shattered into fragments a pulse of mental energy erupted through the room.  All four adventurers staggered back, clutching their heads.

“What… what was _that_?” Glori asked.

“Maybe… maybe the energy of the spell being discharged?” Quellan ventured.  “Can you leave?”

Glori was nearest the exit, and she crossed to it in a flash.  “No,” she said after a moment.

“More work to do, then,” Kosk muttered, lifting his staff again.

“Wait, just wait!” Quellan said.  “I’m not sure how many of those pulses we can withstand.”

“You can get out,” the monk said.  “Go wait outside, if you can’t handle it.”

“It’s not that I can’t handle it,” the half-orc said.

Glori idly dropped a hand to her lute, and as her fingertips brushed the strings Kosk turned to her.  “And you can lay off that bloody racket!  I can’t hear myself bloody think with all the noise you make!”

“It’s not my fault you have the artistic perceptions of a toadstool!” Glori shot back.

“You’re starting to get on my nerves!” Kosk shouted.  Without realizing it he’d taken a step closer to her, leaving just a narrow gap between them.

“Leave her alone!” Quellan roared.

Bredan let out a wild yell and threw himself back at his mask with a fury that briefly shocked the others out of their argument.  With a chisel in one hand and a small hammer in the other he rained down blows on the stone face.  Dust swirled into his face and covered his clothes, and for a moment he could hardly see, but he kept on delivering precise strikes.  Before any of the others could intervene there was another loud, ominous crack, and they all tensed in anticipation of another wave of pain.  That pulse came, but it was weaker this time and its effects quickly faded.

Bredan was already staggering toward the next mask, looking like some sort of ghoul with the pale dust covering his upper body, but before he could resume his attack Quellan intervened.  “Wait… I think that might be it,” he said.  “Try it now.”

Glori ventured to the exit once more, and this time she was able to step into the far passage without difficulty.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “It worked.”

“That…” Quellan said.  “It was just the magic, it wasn’t us.”

“I know,” Glori said, with a look at Kosk.  The monk was holding onto his staff tightly, staring down at his fists clenched around the wooden shaft.  The others all watched him until he let out a breath and let his hands fall.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No harm done,” Glori said.

Bredan took a steadying breath of his own as he replaced his tools in their case.  He started toward his sword, but Kosk beat him to it.  The smith looked suspicious for a moment as the dwarf lifted his weapon, but Kosk only slid it back into its scabbard and offered it to him.  “Well done,” he said.

“Thanks,” Bredan said as he accepted the sword.  He started to move past the dwarf, but Kosk interrupted him by asking, “Was it my face you saw?  When you were smashing the stone?”

Bredan’s face cracked into a small smile.  “Maybe.”

“Let’s get out of here, okay?” Quellan suggested.

“Aye, let’s see what other creative ways these Barat bastards have to try to kill us,” Kosk said.

They left the room but did not get very far.  The new passage only extended for about twenty feet before it turned suddenly and ended in a solid wall.

“Um… dead end?” Glori asked.

“Don’t give up so easy,” Kosk said.  He slipped past Quellan and examined the wall, running his fingertips over the surface.  “This was built later than the rest of the place.  Masonry work, and done in a hurry I’d guess.”  He flicked a piece of mortar clear with his thumbnail and gave the wall a tap with his staff.  “I expect the boy could chip us a passage fairly quick.”

“I wonder who built it, and why?” Glori asked.  “To keep folks out… or to keep something in?”

“Like what?” Bredan asked.  “Some kind of monster?  Another guardian?”

“There’s no way of knowing,” Quellan said.  “But the fact that someone went through this amount of effort suggests that there’s [/i]something[/i] important behind this wall.”

Kosk shrugged.  “None of that matters.  If we’re going to do what we came here to do it’s an obstacle we need to get through.  So unless you want me to do it, time to start hammering, boy.”

The others stepped back and Bredan went to work.  The hammer and chisel made a lot of noise, but after the ruckus they’d made back in the entrance chamber they were less worried about drawing unwanted attention.  Even so, they took turns keeping an eye on the passage behind them.  When Bredan finally knocked an opening through the wall with a clatter of stones they all tensed, half expecting something to jump out at them, but only darkness and stale air greeted them.  Working together they quickly widened the breach until it was wide enough for Quellan to slip through.  The half-orc bent low and squeezed through the opening, then made room for the others to follow behind.

The passage on the far side of the wall quickly gave way to a narrow stone staircase that wound deeper into the interior of the bluff.  Quellan led the way, his torch held high to brighten the way for the others.

The stone steps descended steeply, twisting around upon themselves until they abruptly ended at a landing roughly ten feet square.  The small room appeared to be empty, but Quellan’s torch revealed another passage that exited opposite the stairs.

The half-orc paused and glanced back to confirm that his companions were still close behind.  Everything seemed well, but as he stepped off the bottom stair onto the floor of the anteroom a demon materialized in front of him and attacked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 20

The demon only came to half the cleric’s height, but what it lacked in size it made up for in ferocity.  It had a hideous appearance, its form roughly humanoid but bloated and bulbous with a sickly gray hide that was covered in oozing sores.  Its face was dominated by sagging jaws, and its arms ended in oversized claws that tore into the cleric’s legs before he could get his shield around in defense.

Quellan reflexively smacked it with the torch, but the flames were about as effective as they had been against the fiendish badger earlier.  He tried to pull free, but despite his considerable strength the demon held on with a furious will, burying its claws deeper into the cleric’s legs.

With a roar of challenge Kosk leapt off the stairs to come to his friend’s aid.  His foot sank deep into the demon’s spongy flesh, but the impact finally knocked it clear of its victim.  The fiend flailed for balance before striking the wall of the room, where it stuck there for a moment before it pulled itself free and started forward again.

Quellan tossed his shield down and pulled out his mace, but even as he turned toward the demon their situation grew more difficult.  As soon as Kosk’s feet touched the floor a second demon identical to the first appeared in a puff of black smoke right in front of the dwarf.  It too immediately attacked.  Kosk drove his staff into its belly, but it simply absorbed the impact and lashed out with a claw that drew bloody gashes across the monk’s forearm.

Glori had her bow out but couldn’t get a clear shot with the bulk of the cleric blocking the bottom of the staircase.  Bredan pushed past her, his sword in his hand, but even as he started down the last few steps Quellan yelled, “Don’t leave the stairs!  More of them may appear!”  Bredan caught himself just in time, grabbing hold of the adjacent wall for balance.  His boot swung out over the last step before it found stable purchase again on the bottom step.  With both demons out of reach he retreated back a few steps before reaching for his crossbow.

Quellan met the first demon’s renewed charge, smashing it in the head.  The blow would have crushed the skull of a normal creature, and it did stagger the demon, but somehow it still clung to life.  It lunged at him again, its claws scraping on the iron scales protecting the cleric’s torso.

Kosk grimaced as blood seeped into the sleeve of his robe.  The demon kept pressing him, trying to drag the monk into an embrace where its oversized claws could shred his unarmored body to ribbons.  Having learned that its bloated body could absorb impacts he used his staff to keep it at bay, delivering sharp cracks to its face that soon left its already sagging features shattered.  For a moment it seemed to fall back, but that was only to collect itself for another leap.  With a corner of the room at his back it didn’t look like there was anywhere for the monk to go.

But even as Kosk planted his feet there was a sharp _thwip_ as an arrow from Glori’s bow sank into the demon’s throat.  The creature let out an ugly hiss, which became a squeal as Kosk knocked its stubby legs out from under it and drove his staff down into its face with enough force to crush what was left of its brains.  The demon’s limbs twitched and then it fell still.

A pace away Quellan had likewise gained the advantage over his adversary.  The demon kept attacking despite its injuries, but it just couldn’t overcome the discrepancies of size and strength.  Even as it came in again, trying to get a fresh hold on its opponent’s leg the cleric kicked it hard, lifting it into the air and driving it to the hard ground.  The demon sprang up quickly from even that rough treatment, but it was only to take a truly crushing blow from Quellan’s mace that relocated its head to roughly the center of its torso.  With a final hissing sound it crumpled to the floor.

Bredan raised his bow, having finally gotten the weapon loaded, only to see that the fight was over.

“You’re bleeding,” Glori said as Quellan turned around.  Instinct had her reaching for her lyre and starting down the steps before both Bredan caught her.  “It’s still dangerous,” he said.

“I will be fine,” Quellan said, invoking another _cure wounds_ spell.  As the healing energies flowed through him the bleeding stopped and he let out a steadying breath; the demon’s claws had bitten deep.

The cleric went over to Kosk, who was staring down at the demon he’d slain.  The creature was deflating like a waterskin with a deep puncture, and as they watched the thing dissolved into black wisps that quickly faded into nothing.  “You should get that treated,” Quellan said, indicating the dwarf’s bloody arm.  “My ability to channel the god’s power to heal is spent for the day, but you have the potion, or maybe Glori can—”

“It can wait until you figure out what caused those demons to appear, and whether more of them will pop in when those two come off those steps,” the dwarf said.

Quellan nodded.  He tucked his mace back into his belt and held out the torch to play the light out over the floor and walls.  He didn’t see anything at first, but after a moment he lifted his free hand and invoked the power of his patron.  At his call a cool, steady _light_ erupted from the palm of his hand.  When he lowered his hand and that glow shone upon the floor faint silvery runes became visible, a spiral pattern of them that covered most of the surface of the room.

“What is that, some sort of spell diagram?” Glori asked.

“I would presume so,” the cleric said.

“Can you dispel it?” Kosk asked.

Quellan studied the runes for a long moment, then shook his head.  “I don’t have that kind of power.  But maybe if we disrupt the pattern…”

Kosk nodded.  “Your tools, boy.  Mind you, stay up there, just toss them to me.”

It only took a few moments for Bredan to get out his hammer and chisel, and a moment later the dwarf was kneeling on the floor where the first demon had appeared.  He picked out a spot and random and delivered a hard blow that sent a tiny chip of stone flying.  Focusing on the task, Kosk went to work methodically widening the mark.

“What were those things?” Glori asked while they waited.

“Manes,” Quellan said.  “The least among demon-kind.”

“Those were the weakest?” Bredan asked with incredulity.  “If that’s true, I hope we don’t run into any stronger ones.”

After a moment Kosk got up and started to wipe his brow before remembering that his sleeve was still soaked with blood.  He’d cut six gouges in the floor, ruining the spiral pattern of the runes.  “Do you think that did it?” he asked the cleric.

“I have no way of knowing,” Quellan said.

“Only one way to find out,” Glori said, but even as she started forward Bredan interjected, “No, let me go.”  The bard frowned at his back but didn’t challenge him as he drew his sword and descended to the last step of the staircase.  Quellan and Kosk each readied their weapons and stepped back to give the young smith room as he took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the edge of the pattern.  When nothing happened they all let out a breath.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Glori said.

“Good thing to keep in mind, though, that a stray step in this place could mean death,” Kosk pointed out.  He turned to Quellan as the cleric recovered his shield.  The _light_ still shone from his hand, though it dimmed as he closed his fist around the grip of the shield.  “If you’re going to stay in the lead, you should give that torch to someone else.”

“I’ll take it,” Glori said.

“I should take it, it’s for my benefit,” Bredan said.  “The rest of you don’t have any trouble seeing in the dark.”

“You need your hands free to swing that huge chopper of yours,” Glori said.

“I haven’t had much chance to swing it yet.”

“You killed the badger,” Glori said.

“I hate to interrupt this scintillating conversation, but we do have a cursed, trap-filled dungeon to clear out,” Kosk said.  “Take the damn torch and let’s keep moving.”

Glori took the torch and stuck her tongue out at the dwarf’s back as he turned, drawing a grin from Bredan.  With the burning brand holding the enveloping darkness tentatively at bay the companions set out again to confront whatever other surprises the long-dead architects of this place had created for them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 21

They followed the passage that led out from the demon room for about twenty feet before it split, with a side-fork leading off to the left.  Quellan chose that direction without discussion, and they made their way down another twenty-foot segment of corridor before it came to an end in front of an imposing-looking stone door.

Glori and the torch were back behind Quellan’s considerable bulk, so the cleric raised his hand and unleashed another beam of _light_ to illuminate the portal.  It looked to be a single massive slab of granite, attached to its threshold on giant stone pins rather than hinges.  The cleric squeezed to the side so the others could see.

“That doesn’t look very promising,” Glori said.  “Should we try the other way?”

“Might as well see if it’s locked while we’re here,” Kosk said.  He finished his inspection and then smacked his hands together before positioning himself so his back was at the door and he could push off the threshold and the adjacent wall.  “Maybe you’d better give me a hand, boy,” he said.

“I have a name,” Bredan muttered, but he came forward to assist the dwarf.  With their disparity in size they were both able to apply their strength to the door.

“On three, now,” Kosk said.  After a glance back to make sure Quellan and Glori were ready he said, “One, two, threeee!”

The last word trailed out to a grunt of effort as both men put the full effort of their muscles into moving the door.  For a moment it looked as though it was secured somehow, but then with a loud scrape of stone on stone it swung incrementally inward.  With that proof that it could be opened they redoubled their efforts.  The door seemed to actively resist them until it finally gave way enough to clear the thick threshold.  Once it was at that point it was just a matter of time, as they could reach into the gap and use that leverage to pry the door open the rest of the way.  It still took the better part of another minute to widen the opening enough to slip through.

Breathing heavily, Kosk and Bredan stumbled forward into the room behind the door.  Glori was right behind them, her torch held up to illuminate the chamber.  Quellan brought up the rear, grunting as he squeezed sideways to slide his large frame through the narrow gap.

At first they could not see much.  The room was roughly fifteen feet wide and twenty feet long.  There were no furnishings or other features of note, but as the light of the torch reached the far wall it glinted off of something metallic.  A lot of somethings, in fact.

“What’s that?” Bredan asked.  He started to take a step in that direction, but Glori stopped him with a warning.  “Wait,” she said.  She took out her pick and strummed a few notes on her lyre.  The song was basic, just the beginnings of a melody, but the lyre began to glow.  That glow was answered by an echoing radiance that formed around her, dividing into several motes of soft light that drifted forward as she continued to play.

“Woah,” Bredan said as the _dancing lights_ slipped past him.

The lyre’s spell revealed that the far wall of the room was covered with iron spikes embedded into the stone.  The spikes were evenly spaced a few feet apart, and covered the entire wall except for a small space in the center.  Resting in that gap was a compact box that also appeared to be embedded in or attached to the wall.

“How much you want to bet that what we’re looking for, or something we need to get to it, is in that box?” Glori asked.  She looked at the others, but it was clear that none were going to take that wager.

“There’s no sign that the wall moves,” Bredan said.  “There would be scrape marks on the floor if there was some kind of mechanism.”

Kosk shot him a dubious look, but finally said, “You’re not as dim as you seem, boy.”

“He’s actually pretty clever sometimes,” Glori said.  “I mean, not about books or stuff like that, but other things.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bredan said dryly.

“I’ll check it out,” Quellan said.  But as the half-orc started forward Kosk interrupted him with a raised hand.  “Better let me,” the dwarf said.  “I’m better at evading if those spikes start shooting across the room or something.”

“Do you want my shield?” the cleric asked.

“I prefer not to get hit at all,” the dwarf replied.  “Better get back out of the way, just in case.”

The others withdrew back almost to the door.  Glori maintained her spell, keeping the _dancing lights_ in the corners so they clearly illuminated the far wall without obstructing Kosk’s view.  The dwarf went forward carefully, alert to whatever trap the Eth’barat might have set here.

But when he finally triggered the trap, it caught him completely by surprise.  He was roughly in the middle of the room when from one step to the next the orientation of the room seemed to shift suddenly.  Clearly whatever it was wasn’t just in his mind, for as _ahead_ became _down_ he found himself falling.

Straight toward the spikes that marched across the wall—now the floor—ahead of him.


----------



## carborundum

Yikes! Very cool, a weird gravity trap 
I just caught up again - great stuff! The group has their differences, but luckily not as aggressively as the bugbears.
 Let's see how quickly Kosk van move...

Verstuurd vanaf mijn EVA-L09 met Tapatalk


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks for the post, carborundum! This mod is a mini-adventure I wrote for a 3e group a few years back, I've updated it for 5e and I'll post it once (if?) our fictional adventurers make it through. 

* * * 

Chapter 22

“Kosk!” Glori shouted, but there was nothing any of them could do to help him.

Without anything to grab onto, there was nothing the dwarf could do to arrest his flight.  He had a mental flash that he’d been stupid not to take a rope with him, or to toss a coin or an iron spike across the room first—_anything_ but walk like an idiot right into the trap.  But that insight lasted only an instant before it was replaced by a voice screaming warnings of what would happen when his body was impaled on those spikes.

Instinct had him twisting his body around, trying to catch up to the suddenly-changed sensory inputs.  At the last instant he managed to smack a hand off the floor—the original floor, now a wall speeding past—and used that impact to spin around to face his feet toward the spikes.  He didn’t have a chance to look down and could only hope that he didn’t impale one or both feet on them.

He felt pain as he landed hard, the pain of impact as his legs absorbed the shock of a ten-foot drop.  He paid that price, accepted it as he forced himself to remain upright, not to roll or drop or do anything else until he knew where the spikes were situated.

As he got his bearings and the initial jolt faded he felt another lingering pain, this one a burning sensation that came from the side of his left leg.  He looked down and saw that he’d gashed the limb on one of the spikes.  Bright red blood was already soaking through his leggings and was starting to drip down onto the “floor” beneath him.  But it could have been a lot worse; a finger’s length to the left and the spike would have stabbed right through his foot.

“Kosk, are you all right?” Quellan asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Stay back!” the dwarf warned, though the half-orc had only taken a single step forward.  “The gravity shift hit me around the middle of the room, but it could vary for each person.”

Glori moved one of her lights toward the dwarf, but he waved at it irritably.  Kosk grimaced as he lifted his bloody leg, then undid one of the fasteners that bound the wrist of his robe and used it to apply pressure to the gashed limb.  The pool around his foot continued to grow as more blood dripped from the wound.

“You should drink your potion,” Glori suggested.

“I said I’m fine,” the dwarf growled back.

“We can toss a rope over and pull you out,” Quellan said.  “But Glori’s right.  If something else happens while you’re over there—a secondary trap, for example—we won’t be able to get to you easily.  Better to be careful.”

Kosk muttered something under his breath but he took out the vial and downed its contents.  At once the trickle of blood eased and the pain vanished.

“I’m going to check out the box,” he said.

It was strange, watching the others standing on what from his altered perspective was the wall of the room above him.  Kosk knew it was he who was violating the laws of the universe, but to him it felt just as if the stone beneath him was “down.”

Putting aside such distracting thoughts, he carefully made his way through the spikes over to the clear space around the box.  His injured foot squelched in his sandal and he left a bloody footprint with each step but he ignored that, focusing instead on the container.

Up close he could see that it was a solid-looking wooden chest, bound with strips of bronze that showed no sign of tarnish.  The lock on the front was equally impressive.  Kosk examined the chest for a moment then gave it a gentle shove.

“It’s not attached, it’s just the gravity effect holding it in place,” he reported to the others.  He tested the lid.  “It’s locked.”

“I can get it open,” Bredan said, tapping his case of tools.

Kosk considered a moment.  “All right,” he said.  “Let’s pull it out, then take a look.”

It did not take long to come up with a plan.  Bredan would remain back by the far side of the room, well clear of the gravity field just in case something went wrong.  He took some of the extra rope and wedged it into the narrow gap between the top of the stone door and the threshold.  What remained offered plenty of extra slack.  Glori and Quellan, holding onto the rope, advanced carefully to just shy of the spot where Kosk had started to fall, ready to grab the chest when it crossed the transition.

Bredan tied the other end of the rope in a loose knot to add weight to it, then unwound enough extra loops to reach across to the far side of the room.  It was strange seeing the rope fly halfway across the room and then suddenly grow taut as the shift in gravity took hold.  The effect seemed to be situated on a line that exactly bisected the room.

As Kosk took hold of the knotted end the rope hung in the air across the room, passing between Glori and Quellan.  The dwarf quickly undid the knot and wrapped the rope around the chest, lifting it briefly so he could loop it around.

“Your friend’s not like any other monk I’ve ever met… or ever heard of,” Glori said quietly as they watched the dwarf work.

“Well, your friend’s hardly an ordinary smith,” Quellan replied.

Her eyes flashed over at him.  “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that… well, he’s courageous.  He obviously cares about you a great deal.”

“We’ve been friends a long time,” Glori said.

For a moment it looked like the cleric wanted to say more, but Kosk finished tying off the chest and gave the rope a few quick tugs.  Bredan pulled on the rope, his strong arms quickly adding loops of rope to the pile growing at his feet.  From Quellan and Glori’s perspective the chest hung in mid-air as it drifted toward them.  It didn’t have that far to go, but the strange effect of the gravity shift made its approach seem portentous.

In the end, though, it proved no trouble at all.  Glori and Quellan caught the chest just as it crossed the transition and started to drop.  They set it down near the door and then Quellan helped Bredan pull Kosk over to their side of the room.  They briefly debated taking the chest somewhere else before opening it, but given that every other room in this place had already tried to kill them they decided to stay.  But just to be on the safe side they chose a spot close to the exit.

The chest proved as durable as it had looked, but after a dozen blows from Bredan’s chisel the lock finally gave way and it popped open.  Despite the danger of still another trap the four of them crowded around to get a look as the smith carefully opened the lid and they peered inside.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 23

“No magic stone,” Kosk said.

“No, but it’s a good thing we were careful,” Glori said.  She reached into the chest and took out several small vials that held liquid contents in a variety of colors and consistencies.

“Magic potions?” Bredan asked.

“Most likely,” Quellan said.  He had taken another item from the chest, a tightly-wound scroll sealed with a blob of plain wax.  He broke the seal and carefully unwound it to reveal neat lines of writing.

“What is it?” Glori asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I believe it is a spell scroll,” the cleric said.  “Arcane, I think.”

Glori took a closer look.  “Oh, the _tiny hut!_  I know that spell.  I saw my master use it a few times.  It allows the caster to create a bubble of space that is protected from the elements and intruders,” she explained to Bredan.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any magical talent,” Kosk said.

“I don’t,” Glori insisted.  “I couldn’t actually _cast_ this, but I can read the description, obviously…”

“That’s more than I can do,” Quellan admitted.  He held it up to the others, who both looked at it and nodded in confirmation.  Glori’s expression became troubled, but she was distracted when Bredan turned back to the chest and reached inside.  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked.

The object he took out of the chest looked like a dagger at first glance, but it was of very unusual manufacture.  The hilt was made of two pieces of curved bronze that surrounded a core of pale green mineral.  That “blade” extended out for about six inches beyond the handle, but while it was approximately shaped like a real weapon it ended in a snub notch rather than a point, and the sides were blunt rather than edged.

“It’s jade,” Quellan said.  He handed the scroll to Glori and gave the odd dagger a closer look.  “Some believe that the mineral can help to preserve the soul after death, and that it can add vitality in the later years of life.  It’s used in burial rituals in a number of cultures for that reason.”

“Valuable, then?” Bredan asked.

“Indeed,” Kosk said.  He’d been giving the dagger a lingering look, but when the others glanced at him he turned decisively and walked away.  “Those Barat cultists wouldn’t have locked it up in there if it wasn’t important somehow.  Pack it up and let’s keep moving before something else finds us.”

Glori had rolled up the scroll and placed it—reluctantly—in her pouch.  “What about the potions?” she asked.

“Quellan can tell you what they are,” Kosk said.  “He took a course at the monastery.”

“Really?” Glori asked.

The half-orc couldn’t blush, but he did manage to look a bit embarrassed.  “Magical potions tend to have standard formulae that present distinctive features of odor, texture, and taste,” he said.  “And even if that doesn’t work you can usually get a pretty good idea of the effect by tasting a drop.”

“‘less it’s poison, though I reckon you get a pretty good idea from that drop then too,” Kosk pointed out.

“Can you teach me?” Glori asked.

Before Quellan could respond Kosk said, “This isn’t a bloody seminar at the bloody monastery.”

“Maybe we’d better get out of here first,” Bredan added.

“Well, maybe one of those potions might end up saving our lives,” Glori returned.

“It’ll just take a moment,” Quellan said, carefully unscrewing the plug on one of the vials.  In his hands the vial looked tiny and fragile, but he handled it deftly and quickly sniffed at it and swirled it before tipping a single drop onto the nail of his little finger and touching it to his tongue.

“Healing,” he said.  He handed the potion to Kosk to replace the one he’d used.  The other two he identified as _heroism_ and _lightning resistance_, which he passed on to Bredan and Glori respectively.  The bard kept looking at hers, holding the vial up to the torch so that the pale amber liquid sparkled in the light.

“Can we keep moving now?” Kosk asked.  “I’d like to be clear of this bloody place before bloody nightfall.”

“I thought monks were supposed to be patient,” Bredan said.  “That you can meditate for days without moving a muscle, that sort of thing.”

“Brother Stonefist has been working on his patience,” Quellan said.  “Very intently.”

“You have no idea,” the dwarf muttered under his breath.

Taking their prizes with them, the adventurers retraced their steps to the intersection and selected the other fork in the passage.  That route also ended in another door, though this one was even more remarkable than the last.

The door was a slab of solid stone a few shades darker than the surrounding walls.  This one lacked hinges, pins, or any other apparent mechanism for opening it.  The only obvious feature was a narrow slot set at approximately eye level, and as they got closer the torchlight revealed several rows of shallow runes etched into the stone above it, right below the upper lintel of the doorway.

“Are those dwarf-runes?” Bredan asked, squinting to read them in the weak light.

Kosk responded with a snort.  “Hardly.”

Quellan summoned _light_ again, and with the bright glow clearly revealing the inscription they all studied the strange markings.  “They’re Draconic,” Glori said.

“Do you understand that tongue?” Quellan asked.

Glori shook her head.  “I recognize the script, but I never learned the language.”

“I thought you were a scholar,” Bredan asked the cleric.

“Hey, how many languages do you speak, kid?” Kosk asked.

“I am reasonably fluent in a number of languages, but unfortunately Draconic is not one of them,” Quellan said.

“So basically if this is a warning, we have no way of knowing what’s waiting for us,” Kosk said.

“Would it matter?” Bredan said.  “We’re going to open it anyway, aren’t we?”

“The question is how,” Glori said.  She gave the door a rap with her knuckles.  “Don’t think you’re going to be able to chisel this one down, not unless we’re willing to spend a few weeks here.”

“The jade dagger,” Quellan said.

“Not a dagger, a key,” Bredan said, catching the cleric’s meaning.  He produced the device and slid it into the slot in the door.  It fit perfectly, and after a moment the entire slab began to descend into the floor.  The low rumble of some hidden mechanism accompanied the motion until the embedded key reached floor level, at which it abruptly stopped, leaving a low barrier that they could easily step over into the room beyond.

The chamber was even larger than the last, maybe twenty feet across and twice that in depth, with the far wall just a vague shadow at the edge of the torchlight.  Once again Glori strummed her lyre and summoned globes of light that drifted out to illuminate the details of the room.

“Woah,” she said.

Like the room with the gravity trap this one looked empty at first glance, but the _dancing lights_ revealed several distinctive details.  There was another exit in the far corner, a stone door that was dominated by a macabre carving of a grinning skull.  That was ominous, but what drew their immediate attention was the floor.  The segments on their side near the entry and on the far side by the other door were plain stone like the rest of the complex, but in between them was a roughly twenty-foot square covered in a grid of smooth tiles about two feet on a side.  The overwhelming majority of those were black, but six of them showed colors that had only slightly faded with time: blue, red, green, yellow, violet, and white.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Kosk said.

“It’s a puzzle,” Glori said, clearly excited by the prospect.

“How much do you want to wager that the inscription on the door is some sort of clue?” Quellan said.

“I hate bloody puzzles,” Kosk said.  With a decisive jerk on his robe he started forward across the room.  He gave the colored tiles a wide berth, selecting a row near the left wall that was entirely black.

“Kosk, wait!” Glori said, but the dwarf was already on the tiles, and he didn’t hesitate.  It only took a moment to cross the tiled portion of the floor, and nothing happened until he stepped off the last tile onto the plainer stone on the far side.

At which point he was vaporized with an electric sizzle and a puff of gray smoke.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 24

For a moment the three remaining adventurers could just stare at where their companion had abruptly disappeared.

Before any of them could react further, there was another crackling burst of smoke on their side of the room, one that quickly disgorged a stunned dwarf onto the floor.  Quellan was at his side in a heartbeat, but Kosk seemed to be all right, if a bit singed by his magical journey across the room.

“What happened?” Bredan asked.

“What’s it bloody look like!” the dwarf said as he staggered to his feet, shaking off the cleric’s steadying hand.  “Another bloody magical trap!”

“Hold on, I’ll go take another look at the door,” Glori said.

“I can maybe clear the tiles altogether,” Kosk said, regarding the floor pattern with a suspicious growl.

“That’s twenty feet if it is a yard,” Bredan said.  “You’ll never make it, not without enough room to get a running start.”

“I could get a boost from my staff,” the monk suggested.

“Look, just wait a blasted minute, okay?” Glori said.  She turned back to the door, but Bredan stopped her.  “Hey, wait, what if the door closes behind us?”

“Then I guess you’ll be trapped here for all eternity,” Glori said.  When Bredan’s expression turned into one of horror she said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch anything.”

“I’ll go with you,” Quellan said.

Bredan hesitated, but before he could commit either way Kosk tugged on his arm.  “Come over here, I have an idea.”

Glori stepped over the sunken door and moved aside to let Quellan pass before returning her attention to the door and the runes now just above floor level.  She flopped down without feeling self-conscious, making sure her lyre was not in danger of being crushed before she scooted forward to look at the inscription more closely.

“Come on, you’ll have to crouch down to get a closer look,” she said to Quellan.

She was so focused on the runes that she didn’t notice the cleric’s hesitation, or the look that crossed his face before he dropped to one knee and bent low so that his head was close to hers.

“Damn it, I thought the room might jog something loose,” Glori said after a long moment.

“I think I recognize some of those runes!” Quellan said.

“Oh?  Which ones?”

Quellan pointed to some of the markings on the door.  “These here… this one, and this one.  And this here.  I read them, I think… in a book…”

“What do they mean?” Glori asked.  She grabbed hold of his shoulder, again failing to notice his reaction.

“Um… I don’t… I think it was Tevran’s… no, it was Cheslan’s _Iconography of the Soul_, that’s it!  They represent emotions!”

“Emotions?” Glori asked.

“Yes.  See, this one’s envy, and this one here is anger.  They repeat on successive lines.  And fear up here in the right, near the start—draconic reads right to left, that much I know—and again here.”

“This one at the end, I think that’s pretty obvious,” Glori said, pointing to a rune that resembled a skull.  What’s this one next to it?”

Quellan frowned.  “I’m not sure, but I think it might be…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as he was interrupted by a sound of fast-padding feet on stone that was followed by a loud grunt of effort.  The cleric and bard shared a knowing look but even as they started to get up they could hear a familiar sizzling pop from the room beyond.

They ran into the room to find Kosk lying on the floor again, with wisps of smoke just dissolving above him.  The dwarf had clearly suffered from his second trip through the trap’s teleporter, but he didn’t look to be seriously hurt as he pulled himself up, cursing.

Bredan turned with a look on his face like a child caught filching cookies.  “He almost made it,” he said.  “I boosted him, he just barely clipped the furthest tile…”

“I am getting over there,” the dwarf said.

“We don’t even know if that will work,” Quellan said.  “Maybe you don’t have to touch the tiles at all to trigger the trap.”

“Do you have a better option?” Kosk shot back.

“We’ve partially deciphered the inscription,” Quellan said.  “Some of the runes represent emotions.”

“So?  We’re not dealing with emotions, we’re dealing with colors.”

“Colors… emotions…” Glori said, turning away from the argument to consider the floor pattern again.

“Maybe that potion you found, the one that resists lightning?” Bredan said.  “It looks like the trap hits you with lightning.”  He pointed to Kosk’s robe, twice-singed in his passage through the trap.

“That still won’t help us get us past the teleport effect,” Quellan pointed out.

“Well, maybe we can try stepping on the colored ones, see what happens,” the smith suggested.

“I’m going to try the jump again,” Kosk said.  “This time, both of you help me.”

“We don’t know…” Quellan began, but the dwarf cut him off.  “Well, we’ll try this, and then if it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else!”

“Glori!” Bredan cried.

The others turned to see Glori walking out onto the tiles.  She walked straight to the white tile, roughly in the center of the room.  She remained there for a moment, then took a deep breath and pivoted to face the yellow tile.  The three men held their breath as she reached it, then turned to her next destination.  She completed the pattern quickly, not pausing as she walked from green to red to blue and then straight across the room toward the far door.  She hesitated just a moment over the final step off the tiles, the one that had gotten Kosk several times already, but when she did finally cross that transition nothing happened.

She turned back to face the others, a triumphant smile on her face.

“What was the secret?” Bredan asked.

“Emotions.”  She pointed to the colored tiles.  “Emotions _are_ associated with colors. Think about it; we use them in stories and songs all the time.  White to start with, the color of innocence.  Then it was just following the order they appeared on the door.  Yellow for fear, green for envy, red for anger.”

“But I never got a chance to tell you what the penultimate rune was,” Quellan said.  “The one right before the skull.”

“Let me guess,” Glori said.  “Sadness.”

Quellan nodded.

“And what about purple?” Bredan asked.

“I didn’t see how it fit, so I skipped it.”

“And how did you know to start with the white one?” Bredan asked.

Glori shrugged and grinned.  “I guessed.”

“Clever,” Quellan said.

“Annoying,” Kosk said.  “So what, we just step on them in that same order?”

“It worked once, anyway,” Bredan said.  He walked out onto the tiles, echoing Glori’s path.

It only took a minute for each of them to complete the pattern and reunite on the far side of the room.  The ominous door with its grinning skull offered another potential obstacle, but as soon as Kosk touched it the slab receded back a few inches and sank slowly into the floor.  Unlike the previous door this one descended completely, leaving the route into the space beyond invitingly open.  But the adventurers hesitated a moment, wary of what deadly surprise the long-dead cult might have for them next.

“Bloody hell,” Kosk finally said, striding forward into the next room.

It quickly became clear that they had finally come to their destination.  The room was slightly smaller than the one they had left, an elongated ovoid that they entered at one narrow end.  At the far end there was a crude table or altar fashioned out of stone slabs, and atop it rested a fist-sized crystal that caught the light of the torch and flashed it around the room.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 25

“Is that it?” Bredan asked.  “The stone?”

“Yes,” Quellan said.

“How do you know?” the smith asked.

“It fits the description,” Glori said.  “And what else could it be?”

“Didn’t the wizard say it would be hidden?” Bredan asked.  “That the cult used misdirection?”

“It’s really the stone,” Quellan said.  “I’m not sure how I know, but I can feel its power.  It’s… remarkable.  It feels like… home.”

Kosk shot his friend a dubious look.  “Keep it together a bit longer,” he said.  “What are we going to do about that?”

He pointed, and the others realized that they had missed an obvious feature of the room in their intense initial reaction to the sight of their goal.  There was a design marked into the floor, a circle roughly five paces across in the middle of the room.  This one looked like it was sketched onto the stone rather than engraved into the surface, marked with what looked like some sort of reddish chalk.  The runes that made up the design were not in any language any of them knew, but their previous encounters in the shrine made them only more ominous.

“We should deal with that before we try for the stone,” Kosk said.

“We can easily get around it,” Glori said.

“Don’t you remember what happened with those demons?” the dwarf persisted.  “How much do you want to bet something awful pops into that circle when we touch the stone?”

“It may not be that simple,” Quellan said.  “This one is obvious, unlike the other.  It could be breaching the circle that summons the guardian.  Or it could be set to trigger on contact with the stone… but the circle could keep the thing in check.  Summoning circles are often set up like that, to protect whoever is conjuring from the effects of the planar breach—or from the creature that comes through it.  Planar bindings can often have wildly unpredictable effects.”

“So what you’re basically saying is that we could be screwed either way,” Kosk said.

“That seems to be the theme of this place,” Bredan commented.

Kosk glanced at him then returned his focus to the cleric.  “Look, you’re the expert when it comes to magic stuff,” the dwarf said.  “Just make a decision.”

Quellan paused a moment.  “Leave it be,” he said.

They made their way slowly around the perimeter of the room, checking for any sign of traps or other dangers that might be a bit less obvious than the summoning circle.  Glori strummed her lyre and again sent out her _dancing lights_, letting them drift around the room to brighten every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling.  But their searches found nothing amiss, and they finally ended up in front of the altar.

The magic stone was set upon a small pyramid of metal struts that was partially embedded into the substance of the altar.  The artifact appeared to be simply resting there, without any catches or bindings that they could see.  It was difficult to examine it closely, as every subtle shift and movement of the torch caused a fresh cascade of reflected light to scintillate off its uneven surface.  A search of the altar uncovered no obvious mechanisms either on top of or under it, though they already knew that the Eth’barat had been accomplished at keeping such things hidden.

“All right, let’s get this over with,” Kosk said.  He started to reach for the stone, but Glori stopped him with a hand on his arm.  “Let me do it,” she said.  “I’ve got the least fighting ability of anyone in the group.  If something does pop up you should all be ready to deal with it.”

“Nobody thinks less of you because you’re not a fighter,” Bredan quickly said.  “At least I don’t.”

“As long as someone does it,” Kosk muttered.  He took his staff and headed around to the far side of the altar, where he could keep a close eye on the rest of the room.  Quellan and Bredan moved to flank the bard, leaving enough distance to maneuver if it became necessary.

“It’s a good plan,” Quellan said.  “Whenever you’re ready, Glori.”

She nodded and double-checked to make sure her lyre and bow were out of the way.  She put the torch down on the edge of the altar, pausing just in case that triggered some kind of trap.  But nothing happened, other than the scintillations within the crystal shifting again.  She took a deep breath, and after one last glance at the others she reached out and took hold of the stone.

As soon as her fingers contacted the crystal there was a flash of light and smoke similar to the teleportation effect from the room outside.  The smoke cleared quickly to reveal another creature.

This one was smaller than even the demons they’d battled before, though like them its flesh had a soft, runny look, like a candle that had been left too close to the fireplace.  But this one was otherwise completely different; it had wings that it flapped wildly to keep it aloft, and its flesh was the bright orange of an open flame.  That similarity wasn’t limited just to its color; its arrival was accompanied by a rush of heat that they could feel even from five steps away.

No sooner had the creature appeared that it flapped its wings and lunged forward.  But it hit something, an invisible barrier that rebuffed it.  It let out a thin screech and regarded them with an angry look.  None of them missed the fact that the barrier coincided with the chalk circle etched into the floor.

When the mephit appeared Glori’s hand had clenched reflexively around the stone and she yanked it back.  The artifact came free easily, but as she jostled the metal stand they could all hear a clear and decisive click from somewhere inside the altar.

That ominous sound was followed a moment later by an echoing snap from directly above them.  The companions looked up just in time to see a trapdoor that all of them had missed swing open on the ceiling.  Two oblong objects fell from it, plummeting toward the front of the altar, right toward where Kosk was standing.

The dwarf reacted faster than any of them.  He lunged out and snagged one of the objects from the air.  It was a clay jug, sealed with a stopper rimmed in wax.  Even as he secured it in his arms he tried to swing around and intercept the second, but he was just a scant instant too slow.  The second jug struck the front edge of the altar and shattered.  Its contents, several hundred metal spheres each roughly the size of a grape, were launched across the room.  They bounced off the altar, the floor, and the companions.  Others hit the ground and rolled, quickly covering almost the entire floor of the room.

At least a dozen crossed the chalk circle that was keeping the summoned mephit penned in.

The creature reacted immediately, flapping its wings again to launch it forward at the adventurers.  But even as they lifted their weapons to fight it the thing opened its narrow jaws wide and unleashed a gout of flame that engulfed the entire space around the altar.


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## SolitonMan

This is a really fun story, Lazybones, thanks for sharing!


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## LapBandit

I've thoroughly enjoyed myself so far! Keep going =)!


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## Lazybones

Thanks, guys!  I appreciate the feedback. I'm having fun writing this one.

* * * 

Chapter 26

The four companions dove for cover as the magma mephit breathed a spray of flames onto them.  But only Glori had good protection, ducking behind the solid mass of the altar.  Both Bredan and Quellan retreated from the flames and got only mildly singed.

But Kosk had nowhere to go.  The dwarf ducked and turned, protecting the clay jug in his arms from the flames.  He didn’t know what it held, but he’d felt the slosh of liquid inside and guessed that whatever it was would only add to their difficulties.  He quickly tucked it as far under the altar as he could reach and then rounded on the mephit, his staff sweeping up to intercept its attack.  The iron-tipped end struck it in the body but it was only a glancing blow that inflicted little damage.  The creature responded by lashing out with one of its hind legs, slashing into Kosk’s shoulder with its claws.  The heat of its body caused the wounds to sizzle, and the dwarf stumbled and went down, scattering a few dozen of the steel balls as he fell.

Before the creature could finish him off Bredan lunged forward, sweeping out with his sword.  He was moving a bit awkwardly, sliding his feet instead of striding, but that kept him from slipping on the steel balls.  The mephit saw him coming and started to draw back, but the young smith still clipped its body with the tip of his blade.  It wasn’t a killing blow, but the sharp steel ripped open a gash in the thing’s side, and it let out a sharp squeal that was now obviously a cry of pain.  It fluttered back out of his reach, dripping gobs of blood that sizzled as they struck the floor.

Quellan immediately moved to help Kosk, but as he came around the altar the half-orc slid on several of the steel spheres littering the floor.  He grunted hard as he caromed off the protruding stone, but as soon as he struck the ground he pushed himself up, crawling forward the last few steps to the fallen monk.  His healing magic had been depleted in their earlier confrontations, but he didn’t hesitate to take out his own potion and pour its contents down the dwarf’s throat.  Kosk coughed and gasped but managed to keep the healing liquid down while it worked its magic.

Bredan kept pressing the mephit, sliding after it as it flapped awkwardly around the perimeter of the chamber.  The creature could have escaped through the open door, but either the magic that had summoned it kept it here or its anger overrode its fear of them.  With the need to be careful moving around the smith couldn’t easily catch the more nimble creature, but the room wasn’t big enough to let it escape the long reach of his huge sword.  An arrow flashed past it, narrowly missing its head, and it chittered an angry remark in Glori’s direction before diving to avoid another sweep of Bredan’s sword.  But its escape had pushed it closer to the others, who were beginning to recover from its initial assault.

“You’re running out of room!” Bredan yelled at it.

The mephit spun back to face him, and let out a cackling sound that might have been laughter.  Bredan frowned and lifted his sword, but before he could launch another attack he felt a wave of heat pass over him.  Looking down, he realized that the heat wasn’t coming from the creature, or rather it wasn’t directly.  It was coming from _him_, or more precisely from his armor, which had begun to glow.  That glow quickly deepened into the familiar ruddy color he knew so well from the forge.

He managed to get the coif protecting his head off, tossing the glowing links aside even as they burned his fingers.  But he couldn’t get the hauberk that covered his body from neck to hips off him, and he screamed as the heat seared through his body.

“Bredan!” Glori cried, as her friend collapsed.  Without thinking she leapt over the altar and ran toward him, steel balls skittering away as she kicked them.  Somehow she managed not to fall, but as she neared the fallen smith the mephit turned and dove at her.  She had her dagger, but that seemed a pathetic weapon against such a thing.

The mephit extended its claws toward her unprotected face.  In reflex Glori brought up her hands, including the one that still held onto the stone of the Eth’barat.  The crystal seemed to glow in her hand, and against that radiance the planar creature was repelled almost as it had been by the magic circle earlier.  It fluttered back, trying to get its bearings.

Something flashed in the air and struck the creature.  The mephit flinched, and as it spun around Glori could see one of Kosk’s knives embedded in the sagging flesh of its torso.  The wound seemed to focus its attention again, however, and it came again toward Glori.  She lifted the stone again, but this time the little imp kept back and opened its jaws wide to breathe another spray of flames.

Glori flinched back, but before the creature could unleash its magic a loud roar from right behind her startled her and nearly caused her to slip on the unsteady floor.  The mephit apparently was startled as well, for it aborted its attack and tried to swoop clear of the approaching threat.  But it couldn’t get out of way in time of the charging half-orc who shot past Glori and leapt into the air after the fleeing creature.  His mace intercepted it with a solid crack of shattering bones.  The mephit let out a hiss and flopped to the floor, where its body seemed to collapse into a heap of what looked like bubbling magma.

When Quellan saw that his eyes widened.  He turned and grabbed hold of Glori, thrusting her in front of him as he turned his back toward the creature.  The bard tensed, expecting something terrible to happen, but the remains of the mephit just sizzled for a moment and then dissolved into smoke that disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Bredan!” Glori said.  She pulled clear from Quellan and ran over to him.  The smith was still conscious, but he was obviously in incredible pain.  Glori took out her waterskin and sprayed its contents onto his armor.  The water hissed into steam, enveloping him for a moment but cooling the armor enough for the cherry glow to fade.  She followed that up with a healing spell from her lyre, the magic steadying his breathing and easing the color where his skin had been burned from contact with the hot mail.

“That… what was… that thing?” he asked.

“A mephit,” Quellan explained.  “A creature of the elemental planes.”

“What… what was that about, with Glori earlier?” Bredan asked.  “You acted like it was going to attack again, after you hit it.”

The half-orc looked embarrassed.  “Ah, well…” he said.  “From the accounts I’ve read, they can, ah, explode when they die.”

“Explode?” Bredan asked.  “Remind me not to take any more jobs for wizards.”  He grimaced as Glori helped him up, but he didn’t seem seriously hurt by his near-brush with death.

“Speaking of jobs, maybe we’d better put an end to this one,” Kosk said.  The dwarf was moving a bit gingerly as well, shuffling to scatter the lingering steel balls out of his path as he came over to join them.  His robe looked as though it had been shoved into a fireplace a few times.

“We’d better take a short rest first,” Quellan said.  “Our resources are almost depleted, and we’re in no state to deal with any more surprises.”

The others all looked to Kosk, and for a moment it looked like the dwarf would protest.  But finally he shook his head and said, “Fine by me.”  He shuffled forward to the nearest wall, and with a grunt slowly slid down against it, then folded his legs in front of him and closed his eyes.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 27

After resting for about an hour the companions retraced their steps back through the shrine.  Glori kept custody of the artifact, putting it in the special container that Starfinder had given them.  That was a wooden box just barely big enough to hold the stone, with faint marks in silver filigree traced upon the panels.  After lighting a fresh torch, they set out again.

They were wary of more traps, or another surprise designed to catch someone trying to depart with their prize, but the Eth’barat apparently had already thrown everything they had against them.  But as they made their way back up the steps and approached the entry chamber with the now-ruined stone masks they sensed motion up ahead.  Quellan whispered a warning back at the others, but they all knew that whoever it was must have already seen the light from their torch.

When they entered the room they found a familiar face waiting for them.  Arras was examining a small steel axe that she’d apparently found under one of the dead bugbears.  None of them failed to notice that she’d flipped the hulking corpse over on her own.

“You missed this,” she said, holding up the axe.  “A minor enchantment, but valuable nevertheless.  Fairly careless, I’d say.”

“Were they working for you?” Kosk asked, indicating the bugbears with one hand while the other kept a ready grip on his staff.

“Did you find the book?” Arras asked.

“What book?” Bredan asked.  Kosk’s face twitched, but he kept his focus on the old woman.

Arras shifted her attention to the smith.  She didn’t say anything, but after a moment Bredan flinched back.  “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Never mind,” the old woman said.  “You can take your rock and go.”

Kosk took a step forward.  “You’ll answer our questions first.”

“Or else what?” Arras asked.  “Don’t bother, I already know the answer.  And as amusing as that might be, I have more pressing concerns to attend to.”

“Now wait…” Quellan said, but before he could finish his statement the old woman made a small gesture and disappeared.

“Hey, where’d she go?” Bredan asked.

“_Invisibility_, I expect,” Kosk said.  He held out his staff and walked quickly over to where Arras had been standing, but found only empty air.

“Maybe a _teleport_?” Glori asked.

“If she’s that powerful, we should be grateful she didn’t want to stick around and chat,” Quellan said with a meaningful look at Kosk.

“Are you all right?” Glori asked Bredan.

“Yeah.  I felt… it was like she was in my head, somehow.”

“Another magic spell,” Quellan said.  “More powerful than I could manage.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Kosk said, and that time none of them disagreed.

The trail down the bluff gave them no difficulty, though they were careful to use their rope again on the descent.  They found Arras’s camp empty save for some assorted litter; there weren’t even any tracks to suggest which direction the mule might have gone.  They had only spent a few hours in the shrine, but they all agreed it might be better to remain close to the shelter of the bluff before starting out on the return journey.  They still had a few healing potions left in reserve, but they also still had a few lingering injuries and the cleric and bard would be able to treat them the next day when they had a chance to recover their spells.  Glori explained that the magic in her lyre functioned much like that of a living caster who could cast a certain number of spells each day.

Kosk went over every inch of the old woman’s camp and the surrounding area before he joined the others around the fire.  She’d even left them some cut wood nearby, so all they had to do was refresh the pit and light it.  Glori helped Bredan get out of his armor, wincing as she saw the damage it had done to his clothes during the mephit’s magical attack.

“I hope I don’t need to tell you to trust my instincts in the future,” Kosk said to them.  He pointed a finger at Bredan.  “If you hadn’t raised such a stink earlier, we might have gotten a chance to search the old woman while she was out, and find out what she truly was.”

“We’re still not sure what she truly is,” Glori pointed out.  “And she might have just been shamming when you hit her.”

“There are some things you can’t fake,” Kosk said, but he frowned as he considered her words.

“The ends don’t justify the means,” Quellan said as he unpacked food from their stores.  Their packs, at least, had been right where they had left them.

“Well, we got the jewel,” Kosk said.  “You do have it, right?” he asked Glori.

“Yes.  Don’t worry, I’m keeping a close eye on it.”

“It didn’t seem like Arras was interested in it,” Bredan said.

“Still, we shouldn’t let our guard down until we’re back in Crosspath,” Kosk said.

“I don’t think anyone will disagree with you there,” Glori said.  She looked serious, but after a moment broke into a wide grin.  “You have to admit, though, that we kicked that shrine’s ass.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 28

It was a dreary, blustery day in Crosspath.  A steady drizzle had kept up for most of the morning, leaving the streets muddy but not quite sodden.  Sharp gusts of wind occasionally swept through the town, rattling shutters and whistling through gaps in old boards.  The few folk who were out and about hurried on their business, their heads down and their coats or cloaks tugged tight around their bodies.

Despite the unpleasantness of the day, the four adventurers lingered as they came to the intersection that would take Quellan and Kosk back to the monastery and Glori and Bredan into town.  While each of them had known that their quest would end at this moment, the shared bond of their recent experience added a few extra moments of delay before their final farewell.

The meeting with the wizard had gone smoothly and was almost an anticlimax.  Starfinder had not asked them for any details of their adventure, and if anything had seemed eager to send them on their way once they had indicated that they had been successful in their mission to recover the stone.

Bredan was still a little bit stunned from that brief encounter and reached down to touch his pouch for about the twentieth time since leaving the wizard’s abode.  Inside was a linen purse that contained precisely eighty-seven gold and five silver pieces.  He hadn’t counted it yet, but he had no doubt that the number of coins would be exact.  It weighed just a few pounds but somehow it felt heavier.  He couldn’t help but think of all the things he could buy with that money, but his resolution to hand it all over to his uncle to rebuild the Karras Forge hadn’t wavered.

That thought did remind him of something else, however.

Quellan and Glori were looking at each other, each of them obviously unwilling to put the words to their parting of ways.  Not surprisingly it was Kosk who stepped forward first.  “Reckon we’d all better be on our way,” the dwarf said in a gruff voice.

“Quellan I almost forgot, I still owe you for the crossbow,” Bredan said.  He started to reach for his pouch again, but the half-orc forestalled him with a raised hand.

“Keep it.  It may come in handy someday.”

“Yeah, it’s not like you needed it on this trip,” Kosk noted.

“I suppose this is good-bye, then,” Quellan said.

“Come on, it’s not like you’re heading to a different town,” Glori said.  “I’ll stand you a drink at the Tusk sometime.  Assuming that’s not forbidden in your order.”

“It would be amusing to see them try to enforce such a ban,” Kosk said.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Glori said, thrusting out a hand.  After a moment, Kosk shook it.

She turned to Quellan, but before either could say anything they all became aware of a commotion coming from the direction of the center of town.  They could hear voices, some of them quite agitated, accompanied by a stream of people who emerged from the town square heading to the outer ring of homes and businesses.  They didn’t look like they were fleeing some immediate emergency, but the looks on their faces were universally fraught with worry.

“What’s all this now?” Kosk asked.

Bredan saw someone he knew and ran forward to intercept him.  “Kev, what’s going on?”

The young man was dressed in his working clothes—he was one of the hostlers at Cody’s Yards—but was clearly flustered.  “You haven’t heard?”

“We only just got back into town,” Glori explained.

Kev gave Quellan and Kosk—but especially Quellan—a long look before his eyes yanked back to Bredan.  “A whole army of goblin-folk has invaded the north,” the hostler said.  “Hundreds of them, maybe thousands!  Several villages were burned and a whole bunch of people were killed!  The King… they just read his proclamation in front of the town hall.”

“What did King Dangren have to say?” Kosk asked.

Kev blinked a moment, as if surprised to be asked that question.  Glori snapped her fingers to get his attention.  “Kev… what was the proclamation?”

“It’s an order of conscription… the King’s raising an army!”

* * *

_Author’s Note: when I first had the idea for this story I started with a module that I’d written some years back for 3e and actually ran for a live group. I’ve updated “The Shrine of the Eth’barat” to 5e and attached it for anyone who is interested._


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## SolitonMan

Thanks for sharing the adventure, Lazybones!


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## Lazybones

SolitonMan said:


> Thanks for sharing the adventure, Lazybones!



Of course! 

Here's part 3 of the story, continuing the meta-RPG theme. I'll post the Level 2 stats for the party at the end of this post.

* * * 

Book 3: SIDEQUESTS

Chapter 29

Bredan stared into the dancing flames of the campfire and wondered if he’d made the right decision.

The rain had finally let up and it had actually turned out to be a pleasant evening.  The lingering light of the sunset ignited the far horizon with a diverse palette of colors.  The breeze that stirred the fire was mild, promising a relatively warm night.  Bredan could hear the clatter of pots as Quellan cleaned up the dishes from the evening meal in the stream just behind their camp.  Glori had gone off to attend to nature’s call, though he knew she would be close enough to bring the others quickly if something threatened.  Kosk was seated across the fire, but the smith might as well have been alone for all the attention the dwarf gave him.  That was fine with Bredan.  His thoughts were distracted, and he mentally retraced the steps that had brought him back to the wilds in the company of his former companions.

The reaction in Crosspath to the King’s proclamation had been dramatic.  Every time that Bredan had gone into town it seemed that it was the only topic of conversation.  Among his peers there had been plenty of talk about signing up, taking the King’s coin and marching north to do battle with the fierce humanoids that had invaded the kingdom and slain the brave homesteaders of its northernmost province.  From the tone of those discussions, many of the town’s young men weren’t even willing to wait until the royal recruiter arrived with the census roll and the pay chest.

Bredan hadn’t let himself get drawn into such talk.  He’d been content to give his share of Starfinder’s reward to his uncle.  The work of rebuilding the forge had already begun, and for several days Bredan found himself working from dawn to dusk and sometimes beyond.  There was plenty to do, more than enough to leave him too tired to ponder abstract thoughts, but he still found his mind wandering.  He certainly wasn’t nostalgic for the Dry Hills or the terrifying confrontations they’d had at the shrine of the Eth’barat, but it was difficult to lose himself in the mundane work of rebuilding the forge after everything that had happened.

His uncle hadn’t failed to notice the change.  On the third morning after his return the elder Karras had taken Bredan aside.  “I’ll be forever in debt to you for what you’ve done here, boy,” he said.  “No, I suppose I can’t say that anymore.  You’re a man now, and have been for quite some time.  Rather too old to be an apprentice, I wager.”

Bredan had been too surprised to say anything.  “I was thinking of taking on another boy when we get the forge going again,” his uncle had continued.  “Business might be a bit slow this winter, what with so many of the younger men heading north.  Not really enough work for two smiths.”

In hindsight, Bredan could recognize that his uncle had seen his situation more clearly than he had and was giving him a little push in the direction he’d already chosen to go.

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Glori had come to that realization before he had.  When Bredan had run into her in town he’d barely had a chance to tell her about his talk with his uncle before she was planning their trip north.  She’d bought some new clothes and a few other assorted things but still had most of her share of the wizard’s gold, more than enough to buy supplies for the long journey to Adelar.  Though presumably they wouldn’t need to spend too much; the royal proclamation included a directive that businesses along the route north provide room and board to recruits that were headed north to join the King’s army.  The royal recruiter might not make it to distant Crosspath for weeks, but it didn’t take Glori long to secure a signed and stamped scroll from the town council that included their names and a list of references.

After all the chatter he’d heard Bredan had expected that they’d be heading north with a large band of recruits.  But when the day came the horde of would-be soldiers failed to materialize.  The young folk he ran into offered various excuses.  There were the demands of the upcoming harvest, family commitments, and a stated desire to wait for the King’s man to arrive before signing up.  When he and Glori had finally headed to the rendezvous on the eastern side of town there had been only two others who were waiting to join them.

In hindsight, maybe Bredan shouldn’t have been surprised to see them either.

Kosk had looked fit to chew rocks on seeing them, but Bredan thought that Quellan had looked pleased.  The cleric and monk were the Abbess’s response to the King’s proclamation.  But just maybe, it occurred much later to Bredan on the road, the odd pair had had as much difficulty fitting back into their lives at the monastery as he had at the forge.

There were no gifts or elaborate farewells this time around, other than some bundles of food that Glori’s friends had prepared for them.  It seemed like Bredan’s folk hero status had already faded.  Or maybe it had been something else.  He’d noted that the young men who had seemed so eager just days before had gone out of their way to avoid taking notice of the small company as it left Crosspath and set out on the long and lonely road north.  Maybe they’d resented him because he alone of the men his age in town, the only one who hadn’t bragged of war and adventure, had actually set out on that road.

The first few days of their journey had passed swiftly and unremarkably despite the weather, which remained rather dismal.  But they all had waterproof cloaks and good boots, all save for Kosk, who didn’t seem to care how dirty his feet got.  For a time he even removed his sandals and walked barefoot, his thick toes squelching in the mud.

The north road was hardly well-traveled and they’d only met a handful of other travelers, but they also didn’t run into any bandits or monsters.  On the first three days of travel their only potentially dangerous encounter was with a giant boar, but the creature ran off into the trees at their approach.  Kosk had muttered at missing a chance to improve their rations but Bredan had been secretly happy; he’d only gotten a quick look at the beast but it had possessed tusks as long as his arm.  They had passed through several settlements, but they had all been tiny villages or hamlets, nothing approaching the size of Crosspath.

A heavy trudge of boots through the mud announced Quellan’s return to the camp and brought Bredan back to the present.  A moment later Glori appeared from the opposite direction and happily sidled up to the fire.  Quellan handed Bredan’s iron pot, now clean, back over to him.  They had so quickly fallen back into their usual patterns that it almost felt to Bredan like they were old traveling companions rather than near-strangers who had first met less than two weeks ago.

“How long do you think it will take us to get to Adelar?” Bredan asked.

Both Quellan and Glori started to respond; after a moment the half-orc shrugged and gestured for her to continue.  “A week I’d say, maybe less if the sun comes out and the road dries out a bit,” she said.  “We haven’t gotten very lucky with the summer storms thus far.”

“Winter storms would be a lot worse,” Kosk said.

“That is certainly true,” Glori said.

“Are there more settlements along the way?” Bredan asked.

Kosk let out a snort.  “Miss your warm bed, boy?”

“There’s nothing wrong in preferring a bed to the ground, or a hot meal in a common room to trail stew,” Bredan said.  “No offense meant to your cooking, Quellan.”

“None taken,” the cleric said.

“The locals out here won’t be welcoming to folk like us,” Kosk said.  “Out here in the wilds, strangers mean potential danger.”

Bredan hadn’t missed the looks they’d gotten in the tiny settlements they’d passed through thus far, especially the looks sent the half-orc’s way.  “We’re on the King’s business.”

Kosk snorted again.  “Aye, and look how much that’s gotten us thus far.”

“It’s too bad we’re not in the eastern part of the kingdom,” Glori said.  “In the Liir Valley there are towns the size of Crosspath every few days on the main road, with decent inns filling out the gaps.  Between the King’s writ and my own skills, I doubt we’d have paid for a room or a meal the entire trip north.”

“Might as well wish for a magic carriage to pop out of the aether and carry us off,” Kosk said.  “It’s only rough lands between us and our destination, with equally rough people living on them.  Marks on paper or sweet songs won’t sway them, only hard coin and hard words.”

“As always, your words offer inspiration to us in our journey,” Glori said dryly.

“It’s only truth,” Kosk said.

“I wonder what’s happening right now, in the north,” Bredan said.

“Nothing good,” Kosk said.

“I know you see me as a smith who only plays at arms,” Bredan said.  “But I do understand what war is.  My uncle was a soldier.”  _And my father_, he didn’t add.

“This won’t be like any war you know,” Kosk said.  “Not against this foe.”  He looked like he was going to say more, but he glanced over at Quellan and abruptly fell silent.

“Kosk is right,” Quellan said.  “Goblinoids are not like the civilized races.  They care only about raw power and bare self-interest.  In that they are much like the orcs.  I fear that the only resolution to this crisis will be the utter destruction of these invaders, with no quarter asked or given on either side.”

Quellan’s statement killed the conversation and the companions sought out their bedrolls.  It was Bredan’s turn to keep first watch, and Kosk sent him a long, meaningful look before he wrapped himself in the thin drape that was his only protection from the night chill and went to sleep.  Bredan hadn’t fallen asleep again on watch since that one time near the shrine, but on this night he doubted he’d have any trouble staying awake, not after the conversation they’d just had.  He remembered the dead bugbears they’d encountered in the shrine.  He tried to imagine one of those huge creatures alive and coming for him with an axe.  The shudder that passed through him had nothing to do with the night chill.

Careful not to make any noises that might disturb the others, he took up his sword and moved off a short distance from the campfire to begin his vigil.


----------



## Lazybones

Bredan Karras, Human Male Fighter, Level 2
AC 16 (chain mail), hp 19, Str 16, Dex 11, Con 15, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 13
Attacks Greatsword +5 melee (2d6+3 damage), Light Crossbow +2 ranged (1d8 damage)
Background: Folk Hero
Skills: Animal Handling +4, Athletics +5, Perception +4, Survival +4
Special Abilities: Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting, Second Wind, Action Surge
Equipment: Chain mail, greatsword, light crossbow and 20 bolts, light hammer

Glorianna (Glori) Leliades, Half-Elf Female Bard, Level 2
AC 15 (leather armor), hp 17, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Attacks Shortbow +5 ranged (1d6+3 damage), Dagger +5 melee (1d4+3 damage)
Background: Entertainer
Skills: Acrobatics +5, Deception +5, Sleight of Hand +5, History +3, Investigation +3, Performance +5, Persuasion +5
SA Darkvision, Bardic Inspiration, Jack of All Trades, Song of Rest (d6)
Spells (DC 13, 3 1st level slots/day): 0/Dancing Lights, 0/Minor Illusion, 1/Animal Friendship, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Heroism, 1/Sleep, 1/Thunderwave
Equipment: “Magic” Lyre, leather armor, shortbow and 20 arrows, dagger, brooch of antivenom (3 charges)

Kosk Stonefist, Hill Dwarf Male Monk, Level 2
AC 13 (no armor), hp 21, Str 15, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Attacks Quarterstaff +4 melee (1d6+2) and Martial Arts +4 melee (1d4+2), or darts +3 ranged (1d4+1 damage)
Background: Criminal
Skills: Athletics +4, Deception +1, Insight +4, Stealth +3
SA: Dwarven Toughness, +10 movement, 2 Ki points (flurry of blows, patient defense, or step of the wind)
Equipment: quarterstaff, 10 darts

Quellan Emberlane, Half-Orc Male Cleric, Level 2
AC 15 (scale mail, shield), hp 17, Str 16, Dex 8, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 15, Cha 10
Attacks Mace +5 melee (1d6+3 damage)
Background: Acolyte
Skills: Arcana +3, Insight +4, Intimidation +2, History +5, Medicine +4, Persuasion +2, Religion +5
SA Darkvision, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Knowledge Domain, Channel Divinity (1/rest), Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency in a tool or skill for 10 minutes)
Spells (DC 12, 3 1st level slots/day): 0/Light, 0/Spare the Dying, 0/Thaumaturgy, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Detect Evil and Good, 1/Guiding Bolt, 1/Purify Food and Drink, 1/Shield of Faith, 1/Command, 1/Identify
Equipment: Scale Mail, Mace, Shield


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 30

Northpine didn’t look like much at first glance.

They smelled the village before they saw it, the familiar tang of wood smoke underlaid with the more tantalizing smells of cooking.  Those smells added a spring to tired legs at the prospect of a lunch that didn’t come from their preserved rations.

The road took them around a gentle curve that navigated between two lightly forested hills, and then the village was spread out in front of them.  It wasn’t very large, maybe two dozen assorted wooden structures scattered among a patchwork of fields full of ripe crops and pastures where animals cropped the rich summer grass.  There was no wall around the village, but the companions could see the subtle signs of the frontier in the narrow windows and reinforced doors on the houses.  Most of the roofs were thatch, though several larger structures in the center of the settlement had shingle roofs and actual glass in the windows, suggesting at least a general prosperity.

There was a crowd that had to represent a considerable percentage of the village’s population gathered in front of one of those buildings.  A few men standing on its raised porch were addressing the crowd.  The adventurers were too far away to hear what was being said, though they could feel the general sense of disquiet in the scene.

“I wonder what’s going on down there?” Bredan asked.

“None of our business,” Kosk said.

“Are you guys from the Baron?”

They all turned to the side of the road, where a human boy they somehow hadn’t noticed emerged from the shade of a tall oak tree.  He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, and was dressed in simple clothes that bore the usual allotment of stains and rips typical for one his age.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” Kosk growled.  His growl deepened when Glori reached out and smacked him on the arm.

“We’re not with the local baron,” she told the boy.  “We’re not even sure who the local baron is, actually.  We’re headed north to answer the summons from the King.”

The boy looked disappointed.  “Yeah, they said it would be at least a week, but I thought maybe you might be sent to help.”

“What’s happening here?” Quellan asked.  “Why do you need help?”

If the boy was fazed by the half-orc’s appearance he didn’t show it as he hurried forward to join them.  “It’s Caric,” he said.  “He’s gone missing.”

“Not our business,” Kosk muttered, but this time the comment was barely audible.

“Who’s Caric?” Glori asked.  “Is he a friend of yours?”

“He’s just a kid,” the boy said.

“As opposed to…” Bredan said, but Glori silenced him with a look.  “I’m Glori, and this is Bredan, Quellan, and Kosk.  What’s your name?”

“I’m Indel.”

“And how long has Caric been missing?”

“A couple of days.  They sent word to the Baron for help, but they said it would be a week until we heard anything back, since he’s way over in Eastfork.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Quellan asked.

“The local council.  Come on, I can show you.”

It seemed obvious where they were going, but they let the boy lead them.  Glori asked him a few more questions about the missing child, but Indel wasn’t able to add much more information.  Caric and his mother lived together on the outskirts of the village, and there hadn’t been any signs of a violent abduction or an unfortunate run-in with some passing predator.  Apparently such encounters were not unheard of, which explained the local architecture.

Their arrival created a bit of a stir.  There were almost a hundred people gathered in the village center, and their looks of uncertainty and worry were not eased by the arrival of the four armed strangers.  Indel walked with them, no doubt soaking up the adulation of his peers for being associated with such notable visitors, until a woman who was obviously his mother rushed forward from the crowd and pulled him away.

The villagers drew back as the adventurers approached, leaving an open route to the men waiting on the porch of what appeared to be the local inn.  The other structures around the village core were typical and included a smithy, a general store, a small stone temple that bore the sun sigil of Sorevas, and a handful of houses.  It looked as though almost everyone in the village was present here.

Many of the whispers that went through the crowd were accompanied by alarmed glances at Quellan in particular, but the half-orc pretended not to notice and led them straight toward the waiting notables.  The local leaders were all humans, though there was a dwarf clad in the familiar attire of a smith in the forefront of the crowd who watched their approach with interest.  Another man in a robe who had to be the local priest recognized Quellan’s sigil and whispered something to his neighbor, a young man in rich clothes who wore several silver rings on his fingers.

One of the leaders, a man in his fifties who wore a sword on his hip, came down the porch steps to meet them.  “I’m Erron Laddrick, the local constable,” he said.  “Who might you be?”

“My name is Quellan Emberlane,” the cleric said.  “My companions and I are headed north in response to the King’s call.”

Laddrick nodded; obviously news of the proclamation had reached this village.  “So you’re just passing through?”

Quellan looked at each of his companions in turn.  Kosk looked sour but resigned, Bredan uncertain.  But Glori showed no doubt whatsoever as she stepped forward and said, “Actually, we’re here to help.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 31

The back room of the Gray Oak Inn was quite cozy and comfortable, even though it was a bit crowded at the moment.  The members of Northpine’s village council sat along one side of the large oval table that dominated the room, facing the strangers who had offered their aid tracking the missing boy.

However, it was becoming clear that there was no consensus on exactly how to do that.

“We’ve had trouble with bandits in the Kilmar Hills before,” Laddrick was saying.  “We know we’re far off the beaten path, and there are back roads and trails that never see a patrol.  Over the last few months we’ve heard reports of travelers that have gone missing, and only two weeks ago one of our local hunters was found dead with an arrow in his chest.”

“Romon Cordrim,” Mayor Greenswald said.  The elected leader of the council was a retired farmer, still hale despite the fact that he had at least a decade on Laddrick and had clearly spent a life at hard labor outdoors.  Thus far he’d been content to let the others do most of the talking.

“Yes,” Laddrick said.  “So you can see why there’s a sense of alarm here.”

“Why would bandits grab a child?” Glori asked.  “Ransom?”

“We haven’t received any contacts or demands,” Comoran said.  The cleric of Sorevas was younger than he’d looked at first glance, though the others had said he’d been the resident priest for the last three years.  “And the Garsons don’t have much.”  As he spoke he glanced over at Derik Anthernon.  Anthernon was what passed for a local lord, the patriarch of a family that held an estate on the east side of town.  Half of the farmers in the village were his tenants.  He sat at the end of the table and seemed a bit bored.

“So a search through the hills would seem to be the most likely course,” Laddrick said.

“Why haven’t you conducted such a search yourselves?” Kosk asked.  The dwarf had deliberately seated himself in one of the armchairs next to the hearth rather than with the crowd at the table, but they had no difficulty hearing him.

“The hill country’s dangerous,” the final member of the council said.  Olag Beedlebrim had the _look_ of an innkeeper, down to the stout frame, bulging belly, and the stained apron.  He hadn’t chosen one of the chairs but was standing near the door, frequently dry-washing his hands in a nervous gesture.  “We are all in the militia, and participate in the monthly drills, but of the permanent residents only Sheriff Laddrick and Derik’s man Colum have professional training at arms.”

Anthernon tapped his ringed fingers lightly on the table, drawing the attention of the room to him.  “While I share the ambition to rid our hills of vermin, especially if said task is to be performed by generous strangers, perhaps a more local search might be more profitable in actually finding the boy.”

“You’re talking about the Kaseen estate,” Greenswald said.

“It’s well known that your family has had a long-standing interest in the property,” Laddrick said.  “Could that be the reason for the suggestion?”

“Perhaps you should give our guests the background, and let them decide for themselves,” Anthernon said.

The story turned out to be one of those local scandals that most communities had buried in their histories.  The Kaseen had been a notable clan in the region until twenty years ago, when the entire family was found slaughtered in the estate house.  Those responsible had never been identified.  Since then the place had been left abandoned, though more recent events had contributed to a growing legend that the place was haunted.  Ten years ago a group of four squatters had been found dead in the cellar, without a mark on them.  And three years ago, a handful of older boys from the village had visited the site on a dare.  While they didn’t find any ghosts, later three of them came down with a fever and two died.  Since then the estate had been off-limits, even though it had ample cleared fields and a mostly-intact watermill close to the site.

“Why would the missing child go there, if it is forbidden?” Quellan asked.

“Obviously you have not spent much company with young boys,” Glori said dryly.

“Has anyone talked to his friends?” Bredan asked.

“Yes, extensively,” Laddrick said.  “I interviewed half of the people in the village myself.  No one had any indication that Caric had expressed any interest in the Kaseen estate.”  He turned to the priest.  “Cormoran?”

The young man frowned.  “If there are malevolent spirits there, it is possible that they might have been able to lure the boy there.”

“It’s also possible that the boy’s bones are lying in some animal’s den,” Kosk said.

The look the villagers shared indicated that the thought had occurred to them.  “Look, I’ll admit that even if Caric is dead, I—we—have an interest in clearing the hills of bandits…” Laddrick began.  But he was interrupted by a commotion from outside, quickly followed by a man bursting into the room.  The swinging door almost struck the innkeeper, who stumbled back out of the way.

The new arrival was a man who wore the ink-stained robes of a scholar.  He was maybe fifty, his neatly-trimmed beard belying an otherwise disordered appearance, as if he’d just gotten up out of bed.  He was engaged in an angry exchange with a younger man who wore a chain shirt and a short sword, and who had apparently tried to keep him from barging into the meeting.

“Nordrum, this is a private meeting of the village council,” Laddrick said.

“Yes, but what I have to say may be germane to your deliberations,” the scholar said.  “I entreat just a few moments of this august body’s time.”

“Let me guess, you have a theory of where the boy went,” Kosk muttered, but quietly enough that none of the others head him.

“Oh, very well,” Greenswald said.

The guard turned to Anthernon.  “Sorry, sir, he got past me.”

“It’s all right, Colum,” the lordling said.

When the guard had closed the door the scholar straightened his robe and nodded to the four adventurers, turning a full circle to include Kosk in his greeting.  “You have come to assist in the search for the missing boy?”  Without waiting for a response he went on, “I believe he might have wandered to a ruin in the local area…”

Several of the other councilors let out audible groans at that.  Nordrum tried to continue, but Anthernon said, “You’ve been trying for months to find someone to loot that ruin for you.  There’s nothing there, just some old rubble.”

The sage drew himself up, all affronted dignity.  “You speak of matters of which you do not comprehend.  There is an eldritch power within that ruin, a magic beyond the ken of modern understanding…”

As the sage spoke, Bredan, Glori, and Quellan shared a look.  “That sounds familiar,” the bard said quietly.

“Nordrum,” Laddrick said.  “If you do not have any evidence, real evidence, that the boy might have traveled to those old ruins...”

“I have as much evidence as any of you,” the sage said.

“He’s got you there,” Kosk piped up from his corner.

“Look,” Quellan said.  “Why don’t we go over all of the available options, including everything that you’ve learned from talking to the village folk.  We should also speak to the boy’s mother.  Then we’ll decide where to proceed from there.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 32

The day dawned unseasonably cool with gray clouds lingering low over the village.  But they didn’t deepen into the angry shade that threatened rain, and they began to thin out as the four adventurers left Northpine and headed southeast into the Kilmar Hills.

Their meeting with the council had gone long and had been followed with a largely unproductive interview with the missing boy’s distraught mother.  By then it had been late enough in the day that they’d decided to stay the night in the village and get an early start the next morning.

The delay had allowed Erron Laddrick to prepare a map of the hills that extended south and east of the village for several leagues.  The map wasn’t as comprehensive or as detailed as the one that Starfinder had loaned them back in Crosspath, but it included a number of landmarks including the place where the dead hunter had been found and some of the many trails that wound through the hills.  The sheriff had marked several sites where he thought they might find signs of bandits, if in fact they did exist and had a lair within the region.  The map even included a suggested route and various places that might serve as a campsite, for even a partial circuit of the region would take them at least a few days.

“This sheriff seems to know his business,” Bredan said as they paused to check the map.  That was one of the factors that had led them to try his recommended course for finding the missing child first.  A search of the area around the Garson farm had turned up no tracks or other clues, so all they had to go on were the various suggestions from the local residents.  They’d confirmed that none of the locals had seen the boy or had any clues from before his disappearance that hinted at where he might have gone.

“He served in the local baron’s guards for twenty years,” Glori said.  “He retired as a senior officer and was given the position of sheriff basically as a retirement pension.”

Bredan blinked at her.  “How do you know that?”

“I asked around,” Glori said.  “All you really have to do to get to know a place is talk to people.”

“You know, we never did learn the name of the local baron,” Quellan said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kosk said.  “Half the locals probably don’t even know.  It’s common out here in the west to find places like this, baronies cobbled together out of half a dozen widely scattered villages.”

“I wonder how many men—people,” Bredan amended, after glancing over at Glori, “will be heading north to Adelar.  Answering the King’s call.”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Kosk said.  “Which will be later than we thought, thanks to your bloody soft-heartedness.”

“We couldn’t just leave these people in their hour of need,” Quellan said.  “The boy…”

“Is most likely dead,” Kosk said, but there wasn’t any anger in the statement, just resignation.

With that grim note dogging their steps the companions made their ways into the hills.  The Kilmars were rather more pleasant than the Dry Hills.  The prevailing winds brought more moisture through these lands, and while they were hardly lush there were plenty of springs and streams and even some edible wild plants that could stretch their stores and bulk up their evening stews.  Their route wouldn’t take them that far from the village, following a path through the hills in a broad crescent that would return them to the road half a dozen miles beyond Northpine.

The trail they followed was little more than an old hunter’s track and was almost invisible at places, but Laddrick’s map was clear enough that they didn’t get lost.  They didn’t see anything larger than a rabbit—one that fled too quickly for Glori to get a shot off—until late afternoon, when they heard someone approaching on the trail ahead.  They were navigating a gully thick with brush, limiting their vision to only about fifty paces ahead of them, but they quickly readied their weapons for a confrontation.  By the sudden quiet it sounded like whoever it was had detected them as well.

“Ahoy the trail!” came a voice from up ahead.  “We’re just travelers, not seeking trouble!”

“We’re not here to give you any!” Kosk replied before Glori or Quellan could offer a more conciliatory answer.  “Show yourselves!”

The two parties approached warily.  The ‘travelers’ were another quartet, four human men who were clearly equipped to deal with the dangers of the Kilmar Hills.  All wore suits of studded leather armor that had clearly seen long use, and two carried short bows in addition to the swords and daggers they all carried.  Their leader was a gruff-looking man who had a bushy beard and a hard look that he fixed on the four adventurers as he came forward to greet them.

“Gorus Tholrin,” he said.  “You’re the first travelers we’ve seen out here.  We getting close to the road, by any chance?”

“Quellan Emberlane,” the cleric replied.  “Keep going this way and you’ll hit it by sundown.”

“Much obliged,” Tholrin said.  “You heading east?”

“Not for much longer,” Quellan said.  “We’re looking for a child that’s gone missing from one of the local villages.  Been gone a couple days now.”

“Hmm.  That’s rough.  We haven’t seen anyone, but we’ll keep our eyes open.”

“What brings you west?” Kosk asked.

Tholrin gave the dwarf a look that suggested challenge, but then he shrugged and said, “We’re looking to take the King’s coin.  You’ve heard the news?”

“Aye,” Quellan said.  “We were headed north ourselves, before we stopped at the village.”

“Well.  Hope you find the kid.  Safe travels.”

“Safe travels,” Quellan said.

The two groups moved past each other, each side eying the other before moving on their way.  Glori in particular attracted attention, and Bredan moved to stand next to her until Tholrin and his companions were well past and moving out of their view.

“You think they were telling the truth?” Bredan asked.

“About why they’re here?” Kosk said.  “Could be.  They had the look of mercenaries, but the line between ‘mercenary’ and ‘bandit’ can be a fluid one at times.”

“You sound like you know that from personal experience,” Glori said.

Kosk’s expression sharpened, but then he turned toward the trail ahead.  “Come on, I’d just as soon get well clear of our friends before nightfall, just in case.”

Soon after their encounter they turned to the north, following another path that ran parallel to an undulating ridge of exposed granite that rose as high as fifty feet above them.  They followed that ridge for the better part of a mile before it turned east and they continued north into a rough landscape of steep hills and exposed outcrops that forced them to follow a meandering course.

“You could hide a hundred bloody bandit gangs in this landscape,” Kosk said.

“They need food and water just like anybody else,” Bredan said.  “This place is too rocky to support a hideout.”

The dwarf didn’t respond, but he picked up his pace just enough to force them to hurry to keep up.  Glori shot Quellan a covert grin, and the cleric smiled back and shook his head.

Night descended swiftly upon the hills, but Laddrick’s map remained reliable and they had no difficulty finding one of the campsites he’d indicated.  Bredan guessed that they were only maybe five or six miles east of Northpine as the crow flew, but they’d covered two or three times that distance in their meandering hike through the hills.  Tomorrow they’d finish their sweep north and then curve left to find the road again, hopefully before sunset.

There weren’t any large trees in the rocky part of the hills they were traveling through, but they found enough scrub growth and dried bushes to fuel a small fire.  Glori was watching Bredan snap sticks and Quellan unpack some of the edible roots they’d found earlier in the day when she said, “I was thinking more about that Tholrin and his men.”

“In my experience, it never ends well when a woman begins a sentence with ‘I was thinking,’” Bredan said.  That got a snort from Kosk and a stern look from Glori, but Quellan stepped in and asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“Just this… where were they coming from?  I mean, I haven’t heard anything about settlements in these hills, and it sure doesn’t look like anyone lives out here.”

“Maybe there’s some settlements on the other side of the range,” Bredan suggested.

“Maybe,” Glori said.  “But if that’s the case, why wouldn’t they have just gone east into the Liir Valley?  The route there is much easier, basically a straight shot to Adelar.”

“What are you saying, that they might be bandits?” Bredan asked.  “That we should go back to Northpine?”

“I don’t know,” Glori said.  “Maybe they were just what they seemed to be.  After all, Kosk didn’t punch any of them, so maybe they’re fine.”

The dwarf didn’t respond to the jibe.  “We should finish our sweep,” he said.  “If they were bandits, they clearly didn’t have the boy with them, and maybe they’ve got a hiding place somewhere around here.  We can check if they came through Northpine when we get back, and if not we can worry about…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as a high-pitched voice called out from the darkness beyond the ring of firelight, “Hello the camp!”

The companions grabbed their weapons and scrambled to their feet.  “Who’s there?” Quellan called out.

“Just a humble traveler,” came the return.

The four companions shared a look.  “Did they follow us?”

“That doesn’t sound like Tholrin,” Glori said.  “Though we didn’t hear any of his companions speak.”

“That fire looks nice and warm,” the stranger said.  With the firelight surrounding them even those with darkvision couldn’t see anything more than a vague shadow well back from the camp.

“Come forward into the light,” Quellan said.

The figure approached, and was revealed to be a reedy figure of a human, draped in a dark cloak that looked to be a size or two too large for him.  One look was enough to confirm that he was not one of the mercenaries they’d encountered earlier that day; this person looked about as dangerous as the rabbit they’d spooked earlier in the day.  He didn’t carry any obvious weapons, though the cloak was big enough to conceal almost anything under its generous folds.  He came to a halt right on the edge of the firelight and regarded them with a placating grin.

“Who are you, now?” Kosk asked.

“My name is Orin Lesar.”

“I don’t reckon you’ve come to take the King’s coin as well,” the dwarf said.

“King?  What king?” Orin asked.

The four companions shared a look.  “Um… King Dangren,” Glori said.  “The King of Arresh?  The kingdom you’re in right now?”

“Oh, that king!” Orin said with a wild giggle that had the others sharing glanced again.  “Oh, is that stew you’re making?  I’m famished!”  He shuffled forward quickly enough that Quellan stepped aside before he had a chance to think better of it.

The others circled back around the fire as Orin seated himself on a rock beside the fire.  The light from the flames flickered in his eyes.  As he smiled up at them they could see that he was missing several teeth, and the ones that remained were blackened with decay.

“Um… where did this guy come from?” Bredan whispered to Glori.  The smith still had his big sword in his hand, though he left it in its scabbard.

“I have no idea,” the bard whispered back.  She likewise held onto her bow tightly, an arrow clutched in her other hand.

Kosk was on the other side of the fire and hadn’t heard their exchange, but he clearly had the same thoughts on his mind.  “So where are you from?” he asked.

“Oh, here and there,” Orin said.  He didn’t seem to be alarmed at their manner or the weapons they still held openly, but as the companions spread out Glori’s cloak fell open and the firelight caught on her lyre.  The strange traveler’s eyes fixed on it at once.  “Silver,” he said.  “I thought I smelled silver.”

“Excuse me?” Glori said, flicking her cloak protectively over her instrument.

“I hate silver,” Orin said, his lips twisting back into a snarl.

“Look, friend,” Kosk said.  “Maybe you’d be better off finding your own camp.”

Orin tore his gaze away from Glori and smiled up at the dwarf.  “I like it here.”

Kosk’s expression didn’t change, but the others knew him well enough to sense the subtle shift in his mood.  “My companions don’t like it when I punch strangers in the face, but I’m not sharing my camp with a crazy person.  Move along, or there will be trouble.”

“Trouble,” Orin said.  “Trouble.”  He laughed, a deep cackle that bounced off the surrounding rocks and filled their camp.

“That can’t be good,” Glori said.

“Actually, I don’t think I mind if you punch this guy,” Bredan said.

Orin’s laughter continued until he was convulsed by it.  He wrapped his arms around his side and bent forward until his face was almost touching the ground.  The cowl of his cloak fell forward, shrouding him from view, but the cackles continued to issue from within.

“This guy’s going to get his skull cracked in a minute,” Kosk said.  He lifted his staff, but Quellan quickly stepped forward.  “He may have a mental illness,” the cleric said.  “Orin, I think you should…”

The cleric was interrupted as Orin’s head shot up.

“Oh, gods,” Bredan said.

Their visitor’s visage had transformed; the face that regarded them now was pinched and furry, with beady eyes and sharp yellow teeth that protruded from an elongated snout with whiskers that twitched as his chuckles trailed off.  He’d produced a weapon, a long dagger that he’d kept concealed behind his back.

“Wererat!” Kosk exclaimed.

“Trouble!” Orin hissed, as he leapt up and attacked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 33

Quellan swung his mace at the wererat, but the creature ducked nimbly under the attack and dove forward across the campfire at Glori.  She flinched back but managed to draw her bow and release her arrow.  The shot struck Orin in the torso but did nothing to slow his violent rush; he landed next to her and let out a high-pitched shriek as he lifted his dagger to strike.

Before Orin could stab her, however, Bredan swept his sword into his torso.  The heavy blade caught him solidly and launched him back across the campfire.  He was flung into the rocks and rolled to a heap a good five steps away.

Bredan started to lower his sword—nobody could have survived a hit like that—but Kosk yelled, “We’re not done yet!”

Bredan looked at his victim and was startled to see the wererat spring back up to his feet, none the worse for wear.  The creature darted back nimbly as Kosk lunged at him with his staff, mocking him with another series of cackles as the blows missed.  Not that they would have done anything even if they’d hit, Bredan thought, not after the way he’d shrugged off that hit from his sword.

Kosk shifted tactics and tried to grapple the creature, but Orin sprang clear of his grasp and leapt back toward Bredan and Glori.  The smith stepped in front of the bard, trying to think of something he could do that would have a chance of affecting this foe.  He finally fell back on the sword, trying to knock the wererat into the fire.  But again the creature just shrugged off the blow, bouncing up and snapping his jaws around Bredan’s forearm.

“Ahh!” Bredan yelled.  He tried to shake the wererat loose, but he held on tenaciously.  In the meantime Orin kept stabbing with his knife, but the heavy chainmail proved its value as it absorbed the hits without harm.  The creature hissed through his clutch on Bredan’s arm and tried to clamber up onto the smith's struggling body to get within reach of his face.

Suddenly the wererat stiffened and let out a hiss of pain.  He released his jaws and fell clear.  Bredan could see Glori there; she’d used her lyre as a weapon, pressing the silver against the creature’s hide.  Orin snarled and lunged at her.

A beam of soft light struck the wererat.  It came from Quellan’s holy symbol, which the cleric had held out like a divine talisman.  The pale radiance sparkled and did no harm as it brushed over Bredan and Glori, but the creature screamed and fell back as if scorched by fire.  The glow continued to shine around Orin as he stumbled back to the edge of the camp.  Kosk and Bredan started to follow, but the wererat sprang away from them into the rocks.  He flung his cloak over his body.  The dwarf and smith reached the spot fairly quickly, but all they found was an empty garment, and angry squeaks that were already fading into the night.

“What… what was that _thing_?” Bredan asked.

“Wererat,” Kosk said.  “A lycanthrope… a magical combination of man and beast.  Dangerous… and cursed.”  He looked meaningfully at Bredan’s arm.

Glori and Quellan came running up to join them.  “Did it bite you?” the bard asked.

Bredan held up his arm.  Quellan examined it, and they were all relieved to find that while his bracer bore fresh marks from the creature’s teeth, they had apparently failed to break his skin.

“You were lucky,” Kosk said.  “Such things can sometimes pass on their curse by biting or scratching their victims.”

Bredan shuddered.  “Do you think it’ll come back?”

Kosk shrugged.  “They’re cowardly like rats.  They can only be hurt with silver and magic, and we’ve proven we have both, so maybe it will keep running.”

Bredan stared out into the darkness, hardly reassured.

As they made their way back to the reassuring light and warmth of the fire Glori turned to Quellan and asked, “What was that you cast at it?”

“The spell is called _guiding bolt_.  It’s not that complicated, just channels a bit of divine energy into a radiant effect.”

“Good thing for us Hosrenu responded to your call,” she said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 34

The cave was cramped and dismal, the single torch burning low in a niche in one wall doing little to push back the gloom.  The single figure that sat in a sagging wooden chair made the place seem even smaller, especially when he reached out and his hand enveloped the stein that sat on the table next to him.  A large double-bladed axe sat propped up against the wall within easy reach.

A shadow materialized in the mouth of the passage that led to the room.  It lingered there a moment until the huge figure looked that way.

“What did you hear?” the man with the axe asked.

The shadowy figure came into the room.  The torchlight didn’t do much to reveal details of his form.  He was clad in a patchwork coat that looked like it had been crafted from a dozen other garments.  Over that he wore an inky cloak that included a cowl that hung low over his face.  “Hello to you as well, Jargo.  Did you manage to eat all the food and finish the ale while I was gone?”

“Have your little friends scare us up some more,” the giant said, punctuating the comment with a deep belch.

“I fear our allies’ resources are quite nearly depleted,” the cloaked man said.  He walked past the table and peered into the darkness that filled the back of the cave.  As he moved past the torch the cloak briefly fell back to reveal a hand that was covered with an ugly hybrid of scales and tufted bristles of black hair.  “How is our guest?”

“Alive,” Jargo said.  He lifted his cup and drained the last of its contents.

“I received word from the north,” the cloaked man said.

“Yeah?”

The other waited to see if more questions would be forthcoming, and finally sighed.  “We may need to relocate.”

“Why?  We got a good setup here, Cthel.”

“War is coming to Arresh.  Such things bring opportunity.  More opportunity than the occasional wagon or unlucky traveler.”  He lifted a hand, and metal clinked in his palm.

That got the big warrior’s attention.  “So what do you suggest?”

“There’s going to be a lot of men heading north.  Men who would otherwise be guarding settlements, or protecting caravans.  Softer targets, soon.  We play our cards correctly, we can make a few big scores then be on our way before anyone’s the wiser.  Big enough that we can set ourselves up nicely somewhere far away from here.  Someplace with finer… accommodations.”

Jargo grunted at that, but it was clear that his companion’s suggestions had drawn his interest.  “And what about our prisoner?” he asked.

Both men turned to stare into the darkness, where a pair of eyes was just visible on the very edge of the torchlight, watching them in turn.

Cthel appeared to consider for a moment.  “Our guest is still valuable for the moment,” he finally said.  “But if we have to leave suddenly… well, sometimes one must sacrifice a small boon in the cause of gaining something greater.”

He laughed, a harsh, jarring sound that echoed uncannily off the walls of the cave.

* * *

Orin Lesar did not return, but they hardly spent a restful night and got a late start the next morning.  Fortunately the difficult ground they’d been covering grew earlier around midmorning, and they passed into a series of rolling hills covered in scrub with light forest in the spaces between.  Water was again easily located and they were able to both refill their bottles and wash off the dust of their hike.

It was still early when they came to one of the campsites that Laddrick had marked on his map.  It was located in a sheltered nook surrounded by large boulders in the lee of a slightly larger hill.  It was close to a small spring that fed a trickling stream that ran down the lower slope of the hill until it culminated in a pool about ten paces across.

Laddrick had marked the site as one occasionally visited by hunters and trappers that operated in the hills.  But it was clear from even a cursory examination that the campsite had been used recently, and not by common hunters.  The dull red stains that marked the rocks in a number of places were faded but recent, given that the recent rains hadn’t washed them away.  And Glori found something else, a broken arrow that apparently had shattered on the rocks.

Kosk examined the arrow.  “This isn’t civilized work.  Humanoids, maybe.”

“Over here, there’s some tracks,” Bredan said.

They all went to take a look.  The tracks were scattered around the campsite.  The marks were faint, too faint to make out much about them, but they could all see that the prints were significantly smaller than any they left behind.

“What do you think, goblins maybe?” Bredan asked.

Kosk frowned at the marks.  “I don’t think so.  But I’m not sure, the ground’s too hard here.  Too much stone.”

“Can we see which way they went?” Quellan asked.

Bredan began widening his search, but he’d barely begun inspecting the ground outside the nook when Kosk held up a hand in warning.

“What is it?” Glori asked, loud enough for Bredan to hear and stop what he was doing.

“I don’t know,” the dwarf said.  “Something’s wrong.”

Quellan sniffed the air.  “I feel it too.”

They all started scanning the surrounding area, so it only took a moment for Glori to notice the threat.  “There,” she said, pointing to a spot along the shoulder of the hill near where they’d first entered the camp.

The hound stood in profile atop a small shelf of stone that jutted from the hillside.  It looked almost normal at first glance, if larger than even the largest domestic breed.  But as it turned to face them they could see that it was not even close to normal.

The hound had two heads, both filled with jaws full of sharp teeth that trailed tendrils of slather as it slowly, almost casually, approached the campsite.

“A death dog,” Quellan said.


----------



## carborundum

A what now?


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> A what now?




https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Death Dog (wait until after today's update if you don't want spoilers)

It's one of the creatures in the appendix of the 5e monster manual.

An alternative version of this scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SwYWFRa6oU

* * * 

Chapter 35

The death dog continued its measured approach, apparently unconcerned with any reactions from its prey.

“My lyre has a spell that can charm animals,” Glori said, reaching for her instrument.

“This is no normal beast,” Quellan said.  He unslung his shield and grasped his mace.  Bredan had started to reach for his bow, but the creature was already too close.  He finally shrugged off his pack and unfastened his baldric to swing his sword around into his grasp.

The death dog kept slowly padding closer.  They could hear a low rumbling issuing from its twin throats, a grim and menacing sound that was somehow worse than a howl or something else more aggressive.

“Maybe I can scare it off with an illusion,” Glori said.  But she’d barely touched the strings of her instrument, issuing a few fragmentary notes, when the unnatural hound launched itself forward at them.

The monster moved with surprising speed, closing the remaining gap to them with just a few bounds.  Its focus seemed to be on Glori, but Bredan and Quellan quickly moved to block it.  But the dog just charged right into them, the sheer mass of it knocking both men back several steps.  Bredan stumbled and dropped to one knee, while Quellan kept his footing but had to abandon his attack.

Kosk darted in and struck it on one of its necks with his staff.  The head of the weapon impacted with a loud crack, but it clearly didn’t do much in the way of real harm to the creature.  It spun and lunged at him.  The dwarf started to dive to the side but the jaws of its right head snapped on his robe.  The fabric tore as it jerked back, but held together enough to bounce Kosk around roughly as the hound shook its head back and forth violently.  Its other head tried to seize the dwarf as he flopped around, but he was just able to contort out from the path of those deadly teeth.

Glori ran at the hound and stabbed it in the flank with her dagger.  The hound whirled on her.  Kosk’s robe finally ripped under the abuse and the dwarf was flung into the rocks.  Glori tried to retreat, but the hound lunged forward and seized hold of her left shoulder with one set of jaws.  She screamed as its teeth bit through her cloak and the protective leather vest underneath it, tearing the skin underneath.

“Glori!” Bredan cried.  He ran forward but was met by the monster’s other head, which snapped at him.  He responded with an angry snarl of his own and thrust his sword into that gaping maw.  The sharp steel ripped into the top of its jaw, carving open a broad bloody gash.  The dog drew back in reflexive pain, releasing its grip on Glori.  But its retreat lasted only long enough for both heads to focus on the adversary that had stung it so.

The hound leapt forward again, but this time the companions were ready for the speed of its attack.  Bredan sidestepped, avoiding the hound’s rush and forcing it to twist its body around to face him.  It had no difficulty following, but before it could bring its deadly jaws to play again it ran into both Quellan and Kosk.  The dwarf came in low, striking it solidly in one foreleg with his staff.  This time the crack of impact was accompanied by the solid sound of a bone snapping.  The monster flinched, but could not react before Quellan stepped up and drove his mace down solidly into its spine, right where it split into its two necks.  The force of the impact drove the creature to the ground.  For a moment it looked like it would somehow overcome all the damage that had been done to it, but after a moment trying to get back to its feet it slumped to the ground.  Even then its jaws continued to snap feebly at them, until Bredan stepped around its heads and drove the full length of his sword into its body.

“Ow,” Glori said, clutching her injured arm.

“Quellan,” Bredan said, but the cleric was already coming around the other side of the dying creature to her aid.  “Just a moment,” Quellan said.  He touched his holy symbol and sent the healing power of a _cure wounds_ spell into her.  The spell took effect quickly, but the cleric’s expression remained troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Bredan asked.  “Did that monster do something to her?”

“All I know about death dogs comes from books,” the cleric admitted.  “Petellian’s _Bestiary of the Realms_ has the most complete account.”

“I don’t need a bloody lesson, just tell me what’s wrong!” Bredan said.

“Bredan, just let him finish,” Glori said.  She put a hand on her friend’s arm.

Quellan nodded.  “All sources agree that the creatures’ bites can inflict a nasty disease that causes the flesh of the victim to rot away.”

Bredan paled.  “Can you treat it?”

Quellan started to shake his head, but Glori looked strangely pleased.  “I think I’m okay,” she said.

“But if you get sick…” Bredan began.

“No, look,” Glori said.  She tugged her cloak around and showed them the silver brooch they’d found in the Dry Hills.  “I’ve been studying this, and I think it protects against sickness and poison.”

Bredan looked at it dubiously, but Quellan said, “I think you may be right.  That would fit with the serpent motif.  Look, one of the gem-eyes has turned dark.”

“We can still go back to Northpine,” Bredan said.

“There’s no need,” Glori said.  “I’m fine.”

Bredan reluctantly went to collect his gear.  Quellan went to check on Kosk, who was examining the dead creature.  His robe had taken most of the damage from the hound’s jaws, but he had some cuts that he insisted were fine.  At the cleric’s warning about the sickness Kosk merely said, “I’m a dwarf,” but he didn’t object to Quellan cleaning out the wounds and bandaging them.

Glori came over just as the cleric was finishing.  “I suppose you’ll have something to say about rushing into a fight,” she said to Kosk.

But the monk just nodded toward her dagger.  “Next time go for the big blood vessel on the inside curve of the leg,” he said.

Bredan came over to them with his usual burdens back in place.  “Thus far we’ve found some mercenaries, a half-rat, half-human crazy man, and a two-headed monster,” he said.  “But no bandits, and no missing boy.  Based on our experience, I doubt the kid would have survived ten minutes if he’d been dumb enough to come into these hills.  Should we go back now?”

“We haven’t finished checking all the places on the sheriff’s map yet,” Glori said.  “And what about those tracks you found?”

“Those could have been anything,” Bredan said.  “And do you really think the kid made it this far out?”

Kosk had unrolled the map, and Quellan bent to look over his shoulder.  “We’ve still got a lot of day left, and there’s another possible location not far from here marked on the map.  We’ll go that way, see if we find any more tracks or other signs of who visited this place and left blood behind.  If we don’t find anything we can still cut back to the road before nightfall.”

In the end it didn’t take them very long at all to find their foe.

The only tracks they found leaving the trapper’s camp were some marks that headed north.  They rocky landscape soon gave way to a wooded valley.  The trees grew more closely together there than they had encountered previously, but that actually helped them maintain a quick pace as the dense undergrowth that had forced previous detours was largely absent.  At first Bredan spent a lot of time looking for tracks, but then Glori pointed out that there was only one likely way that a traveler coming this way could have gone; the sides of the valley were steep and nearly vertical in places, promising a difficult climb up to the level of the surrounding hills.

They passed another two streams before the ground began to slowly rise again.  They filled their water bottles again but then pressed on, intent on finishing their sweep before the day ended and forced them to spend another day in the hills.  Bredan guessed that less than an hour had passed since their fight with the death dog before the trees thinned out and the valley walls drew back to reveal another broad open space ahead.

The sun had broken through the clouds while they had been in the forest, and the sudden brightness blinded them for a moment until their eyes adjusted.  To the west and east two rows of lightly wooded hills marched forward like sentries, while directly ahead of them the ground rose in a gentler slope to a low hilltop a few hundred yards away.  The hillside was covered with rocks that had choked off all growth but the usual weeds and the occasional enterprising bush that had found enough soil to take root.

“Great, more climbing,” Bredan groused.

“Let’s see what we can see from up there,” Quellan said.  “We must be close to the site that Laddrick indicated.”

“Seems like if I was looking for a place to build a camp I would have chosen the valley,” Bredan said.  “It had shade, water, shelter…”

“Exactly,” Kosk said.  “So if there’s danger here we’re not seeing it.  So keep an eye out.”

They started up the rise.  Even with the lack of growth and the relatively easy slope the uneven scatter of rocks made the climb slower and more difficult than it otherwise would have been.

They were about halfway to the top when Bredan paused to shift his mail coif and wipe his brow.  Now that they were in direct sunlight he was starting to sweat profusely under his armor.  Glori paused and looked back at him.  “You okay?”

“I’m starting to feel like I’m back in the forge,” he said.  “Look, do you really think we’re going to find…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as he was interrupted by an arrow that thudded into his shoulder.  For a moment he just stared down at it, the feathered end of the shaft quivering for a moment before he felt the burning pain spread out from the point of impact.  He sucked in a breath to call out a warning, but this time Glori beat him to it.

“Ambush!” she warned.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 36

The companions scattered and dove for cover.  None of the scattered rocks were big enough to offer much protection, but dropping prone presented their unseen attackers with smaller targets.  That proved a wise course a moment later as a second arrow shot by above them, followed a moment later by something small and hard that bounced off a rock with a loud “ping.”

“Are you okay?” Glori asked Bredan.  The smith’s large pack bulged up, revealing his location, but it actually offered some protection against fire from above.  “Hold still, I can come to you with healing.”

Bredan held up a hand as she started to get up.  “No, I’m fine,” he said.  He yanked the arrow out, carefully unhooking the head from the metal links of his mail.  “It barely penetrated my armor.”  It stung like fire, but he tried to ignore that for the moment.  He held up the arrow so she could see the familiar shape of it.  “Guess we found our bandits after all.”

“Did either of you see where the shots came from?” Quellan asked.  He and Kosk were above ten steps further up the slope, the dwarf almost invisible in the scattered weeds, the massive half-orc somewhat less so.

“No,” Glori said.  “The shot had to come from somewhere up there, though,” she said, indicating the summit of the hill.

Bredan shrugged off his pack, flinching as another arrow shot past him.  But it missed by at least five paces, and he quickly reached for his crossbow.

“That’s it, draw their fire,” Glori said.  He glanced over at her and saw she had her bow already prepared, with an arrow fitted to the string.  She shot him a grin and winked.

“Yeah, draw their fire,” Bredan said, taking a bolt out of the case.

“There!” Quellan said, as a tiny head popped up from the rocks about a hundred feet up the slope.  Glori fired at about the same time as another arrow arced down from above, but the thing had disappeared again by the time her shot reached it.  Its arrow in turn landed in the rocks about twenty paces away from any of them.

“They’re not very good shots,” Glori said.

“Yeah, not very good at all,” Bredan said dryly.  He’d gotten his bow loaded, and lifted his head slowly while he scanned for targets.

But before he could locate an enemy, Kosk abruptly stood up.  The dwarf was muttering something under his breath and looked disgusted.  Without waiting for his companions he started running up the slope.

“Kosk!” Quellan shouted, but the dwarf ignored him.  The cleric rose and started after him, his shield raised to protect his face and body.  The proved to be a wise precaution as a sling bullet bounced off it, making a clatter as it ricocheted off the stones of the hillside.

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this,” Glori said.  She launched one more arrow at the enemy position then rose and rushed forward after them.  Bredan had no choice but to follow.

As they ran up the hillside they could see that there were in fact _two_ such positions, separated by maybe fifty feet.  The little heads of their foes popped up and down in a manner that might have been humorous if not for the deadly missiles they launched each time.  Kosk drew most of their fire as the unarmored dwarf pulled ahead of his companions, but either the creatures weren’t very good at targeting a moving target or the monk was proving extremely lucky, as none of the shots even came close to hitting him.  Finally the attacks stopped as the dwarf drew close to the closer of the two positions.  But instead of waiting for his companions to reach him, Kosk leapt forward and suddenly dropped out of view.

“Kosk, wait!” Quellan yelled, some obvious frustration creeping into his normally even tone.  Grunting with the effort of charging up the slope, the cleric gestured with his mace.  “Check the other one!” he shouted back to Glori and Bredan.

Bredan ignored the sweat running down his back and gathering under the armor protecting his brow and veered after Glori.  It didn’t take them long to check the sniper post, a small pit dug into the hillside.  Rocks had been carefully arranged to provide cover and concealment without revealing their presence to anyone coming up from below.  The two peered into the hole, shared a quick look, and then hurried over to rejoin Quellan.

The second hole was just like the first, down to the low, narrow tunnel opening in the bottom.  “The other one’s the same,” Bredan said.  “Except there’s a little dead reptile-man in it with one of Glori’s arrows stuck in its head.  Nice shot, by the way,” he said.

“Lucky shot,” Glori said.  “Kosk went in after them?”

“It would seem so,” Quellan said.

“What are those things?” Bredan asked.

“Kobolds,” Quellan said.

“We’d never fit in there,” Bredan said.  “Even without our armor it would be a tight squeeze.”

“I know,” Quellan said.  His whole body seemed tensed with the need for action.

“I can fit,” Glori said.

Both men turned on her.  “No, no way,” Bredan said.

“We can’t just leave him in there alone,” Glori said.

“Hey, he chose to run off by himself…” Bredan began.

“Look!” Glori said.  They followed her gaze and just caught a glimpse of another reptilian head another hundred paces or so up the hillside an instant before it dropped out of view.

“There must be another entrance up there,” Quellan said.

“Go on,” Glori said.  “I’ll follow Kosk, and meet up with you up there.”

“But…” Bredan persisted.

“Look, I promise if I run into trouble I’ll run back as fast as I can.  I know I’m not a warrior, okay?”

“You’re as brave as any warrior I’ve ever met,” Quellan said.

She smiled at him, then drew her dagger and jumped into the pit.  Without another look back she bent low and crept forward into the tunnel.

“Come on,” Quellan said to Bredan, and the two resumed their climb up the hill.

* * *

_Author’s Note: this encounter was my first experience with layered disadvantages. The kobolds had 3 reasons for disadvantage at one point: for sunlight, range, and prone targets. Per the rules-as-written they had the same chance of scoring a hit whether their targets were 100 feet away and prone or standing in the open 10 feet away. Maybe Kosk recognized this, and that’s why he decided to charge. 

I am a big fan of the simplicity of the 5e rules, but they do lead to some odd situations. If I was DMing this I would probably have granted the adventurers 50% cover, even though the description suggested that the rocks weren’t really big enough to hide behind._


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 37

Glori was not a fan of tight spaces.

The kobold tunnel was not that difficult to navigate, though she had to keep her head low and walk in a sort of shuffle.  She regretted not taking off her backpack but decided not to stop now.  She could hear faint sounds from up ahead but couldn’t quite identify them.

As she left the light of the hillside behind her eyes adjusted to the darkness.  The gift of her father’s heritage let her see more or less clearly, though there wasn’t anything to see except for the irregular line of the tunnel heading deeper into the substance of the hill.  There were wooden beams supporting the passage at regular intervals, but she still wondered just how good kobolds were at building.

After about forty feet the tunnel turned sharply to the left.  As soon as she reached the bend she saw a kobold waiting for her.  She jumped in surprise, although the creature was lying motionless on the floor of the passage, its head lolling at an awkward angle.  She approached warily and prodded it with her dagger.  It was dead, its neck broken.

The tunnel ahead had grown eerily silent.  “Dwarves,” she muttered to herself before resuming her exploration of the kobold complex.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but she knew that was just an illusion created by her own hyperactive mind.  It twisted slightly back and forth, keeping her from seeing very far ahead, but finally she saw an open space ahead.  She hesitated for a moment but still didn’t hear anything.

When she shuffled into the room her eyes widened in surprise.

Four more kobolds had met their end here.  The room wasn’t very big, and was set up as a small guardroom.  The furnishings were crude and sized to the kobolds, and had been scattered in disarray.  One of the chairs had been shattered into fragments, a dead kobold lying in the wreckage.  The iron scent of freshly spilled blood filled the room.

There were three other exits.  To her right there was a small opening blocked by a wooden grate.  To her left was another passage similar to the one she’d just navigated, which she guessed probably led to the other sniper position she and Bredan had scouted.  On the far side of the little room was a rough-hewn staircase that led up.  She headed in that direction, careful of the corpses in case any of them were not quite finished.

None of the kobolds moved, but she saw a wet glistening on the blade of the dagger that one of them carried.  She saw more blood in spatters as she made her way to the steps.

Kosk hadn’t gotten past these guards unscathed.

That thought was confirmed as she found an empty potion vial on one of the steps.  She didn’t need to check to know it was one of their potions of healing.  There were more smears of blood on the steps, and a few marks on the wall where the monk had probably leaned for support on his climb.

She started up, slowly, but then heard a sharp shriek of pain from up ahead.  It didn’t sound like it had come from the dwarf, but she found herself running anyway, grimacing as her elbows scraped against the walls of the narrow ascent.

At the top of the stairs another tunnel continued in what she guessed was roughly the direction of the hilltop, though it was easy to get turned around in these meandering corridors.  She hoped that Bredan and Quellan had found another way into the kobold complex, and that she was heading toward them rather than toward another ambush.  She was acutely aware that the passages she’d bypassed meant that more of the creatures could be behind her.

The passage briefly widened into a slightly larger space.  It resumed directly ahead, but to her right there was a scattering of gear next to a ledge that dropped off into darkness.  Glori could hear sounds coming from below, shuffling noises accompanied by low squeaks.  She edged over to take a look.

The ledge overlooked a small round space maybe ten feet across.  The drop was only about six feet.  She saw that the sounds she heard were coming from a huge, fat pig.

She picked up a loose pebble and tossed it down.  “Hey, pig!” she hissed.

The stone bounced off the pig’s head.  It looked up and grunted at her.

A sudden loud clang of metal on stone caused her to jump again.  It came from the far passage and sounded close.  Thinking of the dwarf’s staff and its iron tips, she hurried forward.

The tunnel began to ascend slightly, just enough for her to notice the grade.  It continued to twist, just enough so that she couldn’t see more than fifteen or twenty feet ahead at a time.  That kept her from seeing Kosk until she almost ran into him.

The dwarf had been facing away from her, but he spun quickly and swept his staff up toward her face.  Glori flinched back, but at the last moment the iron-tipped end came to a stop with maybe a hand’s span to spare.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Kosk growled.  He stepped back, but Glori could see that he had to lean against the wall for support.  There was another kobold lying on the ground just past him.  There was another bloody knife lying next to its hand, indicating that it had gotten another piece of the monk before it had died.

It looked like Kosk had lost many such pieces already.  His robe was gashed in a number of places, and covered in bloodstains.

“You’re crazy,” she said.  “Rushing in here alone.”

“It will take more than a bunch of kobolds to put an end to me,” Kosk said.  When Glori sheathed her dagger and unlimbered her lyre he said, “I’m fine.”

“You’re about to collapse from blood loss, you stubborn fool,” she said.  She played a soft melody that invoked the healing magic of the lyre, channeling the power of a _cure wounds_ spell into the injured dwarf.  He took a deep breath as the magic took hold and eased the worst of the damage he’d sustained.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“They went around.  We think there’s another entrance further up the hill.”

“You came down here alone?”

She shot him a look.  “You’re going to second-guess me?  Really?”

“Never mind.  Come on, there was one more that got away.”

Without waiting for a response Kosk started forward again, forcing Glori to hurry to keep up.  As she stepped over the dead kobold she said, “You must really hate these creatures.”

“They’re vermin,” the dwarf said without looking back.

The tunnel continued its gradual ascent.  Glori was beginning to think that they would pass through the entire hill when they came around another slight bend to see the reassuring glow of daylight ahead.  Kosk was still going at full tilt up the passage and was quickly drawing ahead of her.

“Wait, damn it, just wait!” Glori said.

The dwarf didn’t stop, but he slowed just enough for Glori to catch up to him.  She reached the bright exit only a few steps behind him, and emerged into daylight.

They were in a round canyon roughly thirty feet across.  The cliff walls that ringed them were almost twenty feet high.  There was another tunnel opening on the far side of the canyon roughly opposite where they’d come in, and another opening to its left, which accessed a narrow ledge about ten feet off the ground.  The late-afternoon sunlight didn’t reach the canyon floor, but after the absolute dark of the tunnel it took their eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Because of that moment of adjustment Glori didn’t immediately see the kobold that appeared on the ledge, but she caught the hint of motion when it lifted a bow and aimed another of the stubby arrows directly at her heart.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 38

Glori froze as the kobold archer took aim at her.  She knew she should look for cover, but there wasn’t anywhere to hide.

But before the kobold could unleash his missile a loud, deep cry drew her attention up to the rim of the canyon.  She was startled to see a large armored form come hurtling down out of the sky.  The kobold saw it too, and flinched back.  It dove for the tunnel mouth at the back of the ledge, but just as it reached that escape the descending figure landed on the ledge.  Glori couldn’t see if the kobold had been crushed or simply knocked into the tunnel, but she did see the new arrival bounce off the solidity of the cliff wall and totter backward.  For a moment her heart caught in her chest as he hung there on the very edge, half his body tilted out over the empty space below, but then he managed to recover enough to fall forward to relative safety.

Once he was secure, Quellan turned and waved at them.

“And you call me crazy,” Kosk said.

“Where’s Bredan?” Glori yelled up at the cleric.

“He was right behind me,” Quellan said.  And as if summoned by the half-orc’s words the smith appeared along the rim of the canyon.  He took a less direct route down to the ledge, following a series of faint, almost invisible steps that had been cut into the cliff face.

“Did you get that archer?” Kosk asked.

Quellan nodded.  “Broke his back, I think.”

“There must be a way up there,” the dwarf said.  He hurried off again before Glori could stop him, vanishing into the far tunnel.  Glori just threw her hands up and followed him.

This tunnel was more spacious than the earlier ones, and Glori found that she could walk fully upright and without scraping her elbows on the walls.  The passage continued for about twenty feet before emerging onto another guardroom, similar to the first except for the more generous dimensions.  The room was vacant except for a small table and a few chairs, but there were signs that a number of kobolds had been there recently.  There were two exits, one that went back toward the canyon and another in the far wall.  Kosk took a quick glance at the closer exit before moving over to the other one.  For a moment Glori thought he might go charging off again, but he only peered into the passage, careful to remain behind the cover of the corner.

A clank of mail and heavy boots announced the arrival first of Quellan then Bredan, who came into the room from the near passage.

“Sorry it took us so long,” Quellan said.  “The kobolds set some snares on the hillside.”

“As far as I’m concerned you came at exactly the right moment,” Glori said.

“Are you crazy?” Bredan asked, coming around the room toward Kosk.  “Rushing off alone like that?”

“I already told him,” Glori said.

“Quiet!” the dwarf hissed, holding up a hand to keep Bredan from stepping into the view of the far passage.

Quellan and Glori sidled around the table to join Kosk.  “What’s ahead?” the half-orc whispered.

“It’s their lair, I think,” Kosk said.  “Heard a bunch of them skittering around in there before you two louts arrived with all your clanking.”

“How many, do you think?” Glori asked.

“Not bloody enough,” Kosk said.

Glori stepped forward so she could grab him in case he went charging off again.  The dwarf glared at her but didn’t move.  “Can we maybe think of a plan first, this time?”

“There’s only one way in,” Kosk said.  “One of the outer guards got away from me, they’re probably preparing for us as we waste time here.  I heard some scraping sounds, they’re probably moving furniture to fortify their position.”

“Maybe we can negotiate with them,” Quellan suggested.  “If they have the boy…”

“They’re kobolds,” Kosk said with disgust.  “They’re cowards, but they’ll fight like devils defending their lair.  If they do have the boy, our only chance to save him is to hit hard and hit fast.”

“I think… I think I agree with him,” Bredan said.

“Right,” Kosk said.  He looked at Quellan.  “You coming?”

Quellan sighed and lifted his shield.  “All right.  Glori, you said your lyre had the _sleep_ spell?”

Glori had already grabbed her instrument.  “Way ahead of you.”

“Let’s do this,” Kosk said, but Quellan interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder.  “What now?” the dwarf hissed.

“Bredan, you still have that potion we found in the shrine?” Quellan asked.

After a moment the smith nodded.  “You might want to drink it now,” the cleric said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 39

Grisk and his kobolds waited in ambush behind the row of barrels that they’d dragged into the center of the Outer Lair.  The reptilian creatures—seven of them—held their weapons and focused intently on the entrance tunnel.  Only Kuluk had a bow, but several of the others held small spears that they would throw at the first intruder to appear.  Once engaged they would all draw their knives and swarm at the enemy from all directions, darting and slicing until all of the enemies were dead.

Grisk glanced back at the tunnel that led to the rear cave.  The cave where the great Nuruk had lived when he had been chief of the small tribe.  At least until Jargo had ripped his head off with his bare hands.

Grisk couldn’t help but shudder at the thought.  It was the kobold way, _yield before strength_, but it still rankled to have turned over the leadership of their tribe to a pair of outsiders.  Outsiders who still hadn’t made an appearance, though it had been at least fifty pulsebeats since Vurk had gone to warn them of intruders in the complex.  They should have been here by now, unless…

“Enemies come!” Kuluk hissed.  Grisk turned back, lifting his scimitar.  The looted weapon was his most prized possession, though the blade was old and pitted.  Shadows shifted in the entrance passage, and the kobolds tensed.  Grisk let out a sharp whistle to let the ambush force know to be ready.  They were kobolds, they would defend their lair with clever cunning, regardless of what their “leaders” chose to do.

But before the first foe appeared, a loud shout reverberated through the cavern.  It sounded louder than anything Grisk had heard before, louder even than Jargo’s battle cry.  The kobolds all flinched back from that sound, but Grisk quickly urged them back up, knowing what was coming.

He was right, as he lifted his head to see a dwarf and a human come charging into the room with their weapons raised to attack.

* * *

The echoes from Quellan’s shout, augmented by his _thaumaturgy_, were still ringing in Bredan’s ears as he rushed into the cavern behind Kosk.  But the kobolds looked to be even worse off.  A bunch of them were gathered behind a row of barrels arranged directly across from the entrance, not far from a firepit built under a natural chimney that allowed just the faintest hint of natural light into the room.  Bredan opened his fist and tossed the pebble that Quellan had enchanted with a _light_ spell across the room.  It skittered to the front of the barricade, causing the kobolds to flinch back from the bright glow.

A spear shot past his head, but it flew well wide and struck the cavern wall behind him.  Another kobold was trying to get a bead on Kosk with its bow, but even as it drew the string back it slumped to the ground.  Several of the other kobolds fell as well, victims of Glori’s _sleep_ spell.

Kosk moved right, coming around the edge of the line of barrels.  A kobold darted out to meet him, but had to duck back to avoid getting brained by the dwarf’s staff.  A second creature tried to come at him from the side, but Kosk spun into a kick that cracked the kobold in the chest and knocked it sprawling.  It managed to crawl away, but was clearly badly hurt.

Bredan saw several more of the creatures huddling behind the barrels, including one that had a curved sword almost as big as it was.  It was trying to wake up one of its sleeping companions, but on seeing Bredan it let out a squeak and grabbed the sword.

Bredan lunged and delivered a solid kick to the barrel.  It toppled over, striking the kobold and knocking it back.  The smith lifted his sword and prepared to finish it off, but a shout of alarm from Glori spun his head around.

The bard had followed them into the room, ready to support the warriors with her lyre in her hands.  Quellan had rushed to help Kosk, leaving her alone for the moment.  She’d moved to the left not to get in the way of the fighting, but that had brought her closer to a narrow side passage that Bredan hadn’t immediately noticed in the confusion of the fight.  But he noticed it now as another five kobolds rushed from that passage and ran toward Glori with knives gleaming bright in the light.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 40

As soon as the second group of kobolds appeared Glori knew that she’d made a mistake.  She reached for her lyre, hoping to get a second _sleep_ spell off, but as the first kobold raised its knife she knew she wouldn’t get the chance.

“Glori!” Bredan yelled.  She knew he’d be coming for her, but there was no time.

In desperation, she scraped her fingers wildly across the strings of the lyre, unleashing a chaos of sound from the instrument.

She didn’t expect anything to happen, but to her surprise the discordant notes built into a wave of sound that erupted outward from her.  The pulse caught the first kobold up and physically hurled it across the room.  It struck the wall of the cavern next to the passage and crumpled to the ground.  The others that had been right behind it were all knocked to the floor.  As she stared in surprise she saw that only one of them was moving, and that one was crawling feebly away, leaving a trail of blood that trickled from its nostrils and ears.

She turned to see Bredan staring at her with a look of surprise on his face.  But she also saw a flash of movement behind him.  “Look out!”

Bredan spun around.  His sword barely caught the scimitar that swept out toward the backs of his legs.  The kobold’s weapon shattered from the impact, and before it could get away the smith swept his huge blade around and severed its head from its shoulders.

The few kobolds left alive were in full flight, rushing or crawling toward the exits.  After driving his final foe to the ground Kosk started after them, but he barely got half a dozen steps before a new combatant entered the fray.

Bredan had to do a double-take before he could believe what his eyes were telling him.  The figure that strode forward into the room from the far passage was _huge_.  He had to be eight feet tall, his head brushing the ceiling of the cavern, his shoulders as broad as a wagon’s axle.  His features were clearly not human, his skin a mottled gray with a splayed nose the size of a dinner plate and too-large teeth bulging in his mouth.  Bredan was reminded of Starfinder’s butler, but unlike Mog this creature had a weapon, a huge double-bladed axe that seemed to glow in his hand as it caught the light.

If Kosk was intimidated by this new adversary he didn’t show it.  He immediately pivoted toward the giant and swept his staff around toward his left knee.  The giant turned into the blow, absorbing the impact on his upper thigh.  He countered with a sweep of his axe.  In the close quarters he couldn’t get his full strength behind it, but the impact still struck the monk with devastating effect.  Kosk was lifted off his feet and flung across the room.  He landed hard and skidded to a stop near the fire pit.  Bredan could see the bright red smear he’d left on the stone floor of the cavern.

Quellan ran to the fallen dwarf’s aid, while Bredan stepped forward to confront the giant.  The creature took him in with one quick look, noting his mail coat and huge sword, and his lips twisted into a grim smile that highlighted his misaligned yellow teeth.

Then he leapt forward and swung his axe with a loud cry of battle.

Quellan grasped his holy symbol as he knelt beside Kosk.  The dwarf’s side was still spurting blood from the deep gash just under his ribs.  One look was enough to tell the cleric that his friend would die in moments without immediate intervention.

But Quellan did not have a chance to begin his spell before he felt a sudden lance of pain penetrate his side.  He reflexively thrust his arm out, connecting with an unseen adversary who was knocked back a few steps.  As the cleric turned to face the foe he saw a figure clad in a dark cloak over a coat made of mismatched fabrics.  Their collision had knocked his attacker’s cowl back, revealing a visage out of a nightmare.  He was humanoid, but his facial features were a confused jumble as chaotic as his coat.  One side of his face was covered in uneven tufts of wiry black fur, while the other consisted of gray scales that extended from his jawbone up to his eye.  The eyes were also different, one beady and yellow and the other the cloudy gray of smoke.

The mongrel-man lifted a short sword that glistened with Quellan’s blood.  “There are few who can withstand my sting,” he said.  “I will take my time carving you up, orc-kin, so you can listen as Jargo chops your friends to pieces.”

Quellan didn’t reach for his mace, but instead presented the holy symbol in his fist.  The mongrelman tensed, but the cleric’s _guiding bolt_ still caught him in one shoulder before he could shift out of the way.  The creature stumbled back to the edge of the fire pit.  He wasn’t seriously hurt, but his lips twisted in an angry snarl as the sparking radiance of the spell continued to shimmer around his body.

Bredan’s uncle had trained him to expect the unexpected when facing a foe, but even so the speed of his giant adversary took him by surprise.  The clang of metal striking metal echoed through the cavern as their blades met, sending sharp jolts of pain up Bredan’s arms.  He only just barely ducked under a follow-up stroke that would have cleaved his skull in two had it connected.

He tried to distract his foe with a desultory sweep at his legs, but the giant merely chuckled and tapped the sword aside with the shaft of his axe.  The weapon had to be heavier than Bredan’s sword by a good margin, but the brute wielded it as though it was one of the wooden practice blades that he’d trained with behind the smithy.

The one advantage Bredan had was the low ceiling, which meant that the giant had to swing his axe sideways and couldn’t rely on the power of an overhead strike.  But that constrained the smith just as much, and as he was driven back he had to be alert to the danger of clipping his blade on the cavern walls.

He pivoted back toward the center of the room, but the axe blade was there to meet him.  He caught it in a full parry that drove his sword back into his own body from the sheer force of impact, but the layered mail of his hauberk protected him from being cut by his own weapon, and the stamina granted by the magical potion let him shrug off the effects of the hit.  He caught the head of the axe behind the edge of his sword, and for a moment the two warriors were drawn close together.  Bredan tried to pull the giant in even closer so he could drive the pommel of his sword into his face, but Jargo saw the gambit coming and held his ground easily.

“You’re good, but not good enough,” the creature said.

Bredan tensed, expecting him to either yank his axe clear or try to jam it into his body, but the giant did something else unexpected.  Jargo released one hand from his weapon and let the other slide down to the very end of the haft, then stepped back and drove his boot into Bredan’s belly.

Bredan was not a small man, but the kick drove the air from his body and launched him across the room.  He hit the floor and slid, coming to a stop in front of the entrance passage where the fight had begun just moments before.  Gasping for breath, he looked up to see the giant striding effortlessly toward him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 41

Jargo’s approach toward his staggered foe was interrupted as an arrow thudded into his coat.  But he only spared Glori a desultory glance before returning his focus to Bredan.  “When I’m finished with you,” he growled, “I will deal with your woman.”

Bredan felt a sudden calm fall over him.  His hand tightened on the hilt of his father’s sword.  He flashed back to the courtyard behind the smithy, where he and his uncle had spent countless hours practicing with every kind of weapon the elder Karras could either get his hands on or simulate with blocks of wood.  This giant was unlike any foe that Bredan had ever faced, but the axe was just another weapon.  Time seemed to slow to a crawl and he could see in his mind how the giant would place his foot, how he would shift his weight as he placed his strength behind an unblockable sweep of that deadly edge.

Bredan sprang up and swept his sword into the giant’s path.  He wasn’t sure if it was the potion or the adrenaline rushing through his body, but the weapon suddenly felt as light as the wooden practice blades he had trained so long with.  Jargo met the blade and parried it easily, bringing his axe up to chop the edge into his adversary’s throat as the weight of his sword pulled him inevitably around.  But Bredan kept control, continuing his pivot and spinning down into a crouch even as the axe carved the air where he’d been just a moment before.  The half-ogre realized his mistake and released the axe to drive his foe back with a punch to the face that likely would have shattered the smith’s nose if not his skull.  But even as the massive fist started forward Bredan finished his spin and thrust forward and upward with all his strength.  His father’s sword slid into the giant’s body.  Jargo convulsed and let out a bloody cough.  The fist that had had so much power behind it just an instant before bounced off the smith’s armored forehead without effect.  With a feral growl Bredan drove the sword deeper into his enemy.  The half-ogre that had seemed so deadly just heartbeats earlier stumbled back and then crumpled to the floor.

On the far side of the room, Quellan and his opponent witnessed the whole exchange.  The glow from the _guiding bolt_ had faded, leaving the pair facing off with their normal weapons, but as Jargo slumped to the ground his companion darted back and fled into one of the passages in the back of the cavern.  Quellan didn’t bother to try to chase him, but instead turned back to Kosk and stabilized him with his final _cure wounds_ spell.

Glori went over to Bredan with a look of concern on her face.  “Are you okay?”

With an obvious effort Bredan tore his sword from the dead warrior’s body.  “Yeah.”

“I’m out of healing spells, but I still have my potion…”

“Save it.  I’m getting my second wind.”  He thought of all the times his uncle had forced him to fight through bruises and cuts and strains, and silently thanked him.  He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, a little surprised not to see any blood.  “That spell, with the kobolds… what was that?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t know the lyre could do that.”

A groan followed by a familiar curse drew their attention back over to the far side of the room.  “Kosk!” Glori said.  “Is he okay?” she asked Quellan.

“I’m fine,” the dwarf said.  He was still lying on his back but appeared to be intact and alert.  His wound had closed, but he still looked pale.  “That big bastard… you got him?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Bredan said.  “We got him,” he amended with a look toward Glori.

“Good,” the dwarf said.  Ignoring Quellan’s cautioning hand, he pulled himself to his feet.  “Where’s my staff?” he asked.

Glori stepped in front of him.  “Here,” she said, offering him her potion of healing.  “Drink this, you can barely stand.”

“I said I was fine.”

“And I said you can barely stand.  I’m not offering this to be nice.  A number of the kobolds got away during the fight, and I saw that guy that stabbed Quellan take off too.  If we run into them again, I don’t want you going down if one of them breathes on you too heavily.”

The dwarf glared at her, but he accepted the vial.

“Speaking of that,” Glori continued, “Quellan, you’d better drink your potion too, if you are out of healing spells.”

The cleric blinked, then as if just remembering his wound he glanced down at the bloody trail trickling down his side.  A pool of blood had gathered beneath him just in the few moments he’d been helping Kosk.  He quickly pressed his hand against his side to staunch the flow of blood.  “I used my potion to save Kosk in the shrine, in the fight against the mephit.”

“Of course you did,” Bredan said.  He stepped forward and produced his vial.

“You need that more…” Quellan began, but Bredan quickly interrupted him.  “I’m fine,” the smith said, tapping his chest.  “Trained warrior.  Second wind.  Now please drink this before you bleed to death.”

After a moment the cleric nodded and accepted the potion.  He drained its contents in a single swallow, and let out a sigh of relief as it worked its magic.

Thus fortified, the companions turned to an exploration of the cavern.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 42

Quellan recovered his _light_ stone and used it to push back the gloom that lingered in the back part of the cavern.  The spell’s glow revealed a total of four exits around the perimeter of the room, all of which were far back from the entrance and the chimney over the fire pit.

“The kobolds fled via those two,” Kosk said, indicating the two leftmost exits.  “There’s probably another lair further back.”

“The creature that attacked me went that way,” Quellan said, pointing to the passage furthest to the right.  “It seems pretty clear that he and the half-ogre were in charge here.”

“That was a half-ogre?” Bredan asked.

“Indeed,” the cleric replied.  “An uncommon combination, but possessed of incredible physical strength and stamina, as you saw.”

“Yeah,” Bredan said, with another look at his fallen foe.

“Did you check to see if he had anything on him?” Glori asked.  She started to head over to the corpse, but Kosk said, “You can loot the bodies later.  Every second we waste here is time for the kobolds to rally and set up another line of defense.”

“You think they’ll still put up a fight after what just happened here?” Bredan asked.

“They’re kobolds,” Kosk said.  He made their decision by marching over to the leftmost exit, the one that the kobold ambushers had appeared from, though he waited for the others to follow before continuing ahead.

None of them spotted the dark figure that appeared from one of the other passages.  The figure waited until they had headed into the dwarf’s chosen exit before he slipped through the room, making his way silently toward the tunnel that led outside.  A large sack bulged under his cloak, but the extra weight gave him no difficulty.  Within moments, he was gone.

The four adventurers came to a short flight of steps that deposited them on the edge of another cave.  This one was maybe half the size of the main lair, but it seemed even smaller because of the low ceiling.  A potent stink filled the air.  A pool of water stood just off to their left.  Beyond it the floor rose to meet the ceiling until the clearance between them was less than four feet.

Crowded into that space was a small horde of kobolds.  It was difficult to count them all in the close confines but it looked like there were at least a few dozen of them.  The creatures blinked and skittered back as the light in Quellan’s hand penetrated back into their hidey-hole.

“Time to finish this,” Kosk said.

“Wait a moment,” Quellan said.  “Look at them, they’re no threat.”

A closer look at the survivors of the tribe seemed to bear out the cleric’s comment.  Only a few of the kobolds carried weapons, and from the wounds they bore those were the survivors of the fight in the outer lair.  The others ranged from slightly smaller than the warrior males to half their size.  The females and young cringed back against the far wall of the cave.

“They’re terrified,” Glori said.

“They’re kobolds,” Kosk said, his voice thick with anger.  “What do you think those little ones are going to do when they grow up?”

“We can’t even fit back there,” Bredan said.  It was clear from the look on his face he shared the reluctance of the cleric and bard.

“That’s what the crossbow is for,” Kosk said.  “If you don’t want to do it, give it to me.”

“We’re not murderers,” Glori said.

“Careful!” Bredan warned, as several of the kobolds shuffled forward.  The kobolds flinched as the adventurers lifted their weapons, but after a moment continued their approach.  They were carrying something that they put down near the edge of the pool before retreating back to the edge of the crowd.  The object was a shallow copper bowl that was filled with an assortment of copper and silver coins.

“An offering?” Glori asked.

“A bribe,” Kosk said.

“Do any of you speak Common?” Quellan asked.

A stir went through the kobolds, accompanied by yapping in low voices that didn’t sound promising.  “What language do they speak?” Bredan asked.

“Draconic,” Glori said.

“Which none of us understands,” Kosk pointed out.

After a moment one of the kobolds shuffled forward again, obviously reluctant.  Smears of blood covered its face, suggesting it was the one who had survived Glori’s _thunderwave_.  “I speaks some hooman,” it said.

“Ask them about the boy?” Glori prodded.

Quellan nodded.  “Is there a boy here?  A human boy?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s here and treated like royalty,” Kosk muttered.

The kobold looked between them, clearly not understanding.  “The boy… a captive?” Quellan said.  When the kobold just looked at him blankly he added, “Prisoners?  Are there prisoners here?”

The kobold let out a sharp bark.  “Prissner!  Yes!  Jargo and Cthel keep.  In chief cave.”

“Jargo and Cthel, that would be our friends from back there, I expect,” Glori said.

“We killed the big one,” Quellan said.  He made a ferocious expression and then mimed holding an axe, then pointed to Bredan and his sword.  “Our warrior killed him.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Kosk said.

The kobold let out an angry hiss that was echoed by those behind him.  “Jargo bad, we hates Jargo!” the creature said.  “Jargo kill chief, pull off head!”

“Is the boy alive?” Quellan asked.  “Prissner alive?”

At the kobold’s eager nod Glori said, “We’d better find him before this ‘Cthel’ decides to use him as a bargaining chip.”

“What are we going to do with them?” Bredan asked, gesturing toward the kobold.  “I may not agree fully with Kosk, but the fact remains that they most likely killed that hunter from the village, if not more people.”

“That could have been the leaders’ doing,” Quellan said.

“And even if they did, we’re not like them,” Glori said.

“You know what I bloody think,” Kosk said.

Quellan slipped forward into the low space of the cave.  The kobolds drew back, but the half-orc only took hold of the bowl and slid it over to where Bredan waited.  “You will turn over all of your weapons,” the cleric said, his voice heavy and low.  “You will stay here until we leave, and then you will depart this place and never return.  I do not care where you go, as long as it is away from the human lair beyond these hills.”  As he spoke his voice deepened and the sound of it echoed off the walls, an effect similar to the one he’d created in their initial intrusion into the lair.  Glori, seeing what he was doing, strummed her lyre and created a minor magical illusion.  A softly-glowing radiance shimmered into being around the half-orc.  Within it Quellan seemed to swell outward, his visage taking on an added ferocity and his eyes glowing red.  “You must swear by your god Kurtulmak that you will not threaten any humans again, or I will come for you!”

The kobolds were now crawling over each other in a general panic, one that ebbed only fractionally as the cleric finished his declaration.  They might not have understood everything he said, but the threat definitely got across.  When Bredan stepped forward and said, “Weapons!  Now!” there was a general stir and then a few knives and clubs were tossed forward to land at his feet.  The smith swept them all up and tossed them into the bowl.

“You’re all bloody nuts,” Kosk said, but he remained with the others as they left the cave behind and returned to the outer lair.

With the knowledge that the mysterious and dangerous “Cthel” might still be lurking ahead the companions moved into the other part of the complex.  Unlike most of the rest of the kobold lair this passage was large enough to accommodate all of them comfortably, making it obvious why the half-ogre and his confederate had chosen it for themselves.  They passed a small chamber that was empty save for some scraps of wood and a few empty sacks of torn canvas.  A passage in the back of the room led back to the main lair, while to their right a set of natural stone steps ascended a steep shaft to another cavern above.

“Supply room, maybe,” Bredan said, peering into the side-room.

“Nothing left,” Glori said.  “Looks like our big friend was eating the kobolds out of house and home.”

Kosk just grunted and started up the stairs.  Glori followed him, with Quellan and Bredan just a few steps behind.

The cleric’s stone revealed a long, irregular cavern that extended into darkness.  This place had been left more or less as nature had created it, down to the stalagmites and stalactites that extended along the walls.  The only compromise to comfort had been a cleared space in the center of the cave where a table and two chairs had been set up.  The furnishings were obviously sized for creatures significantly larger than kobolds.

“Looks like someone left in a hurry,” Kosk said, pointing to an open chest along the wall to the left of the stairs.  A few objects were scattered around the chest, and a bulky fur hung from the side of the container.

The dwarf found out that wasn’t all they’d left as he stepped forward and tripped a thin, almost invisible wire stretched across the top of the stairs.  There was a loud click, followed by a deluge of rocks that plummeted down from above.


----------



## carborundum

Rocks fall...? ;-)
I've been busy, so I just got to read four in a row - loving it! Thanks, Lazybones!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Rocks fall...? ;-)
> I've been busy, so I just got to read four in a row - loving it! Thanks, Lazybones!



Thanks for the post, carborundum!

* * * 

Chapter 43

As soon as he felt the pressure of the wire on his shin Kosk launched himself forward.  He landed in a tumble and rolled to his feet as the head-sized stones that had been carefully stacked on a shelf over the entrance struck the floor and started bouncing down the steps.  He hadn’t gotten through unscathed, but ignored the painful twinges in his shoulder and hip as he scanned the darkness ahead for threats.

As soon as the rocks started falling Quellan grabbed hold of Glori and yanked her back out of the area of the trap.  He felt a sharp pain as one of the rocks bounced off his shin, but didn’t flinch as he sheltered the bard with his body.  Bredan let out a curse but kept his footing as the stones continued their noisy passage down the stairs before rolling to a stop in the passage below.

“Are you all right?” Quellan asked.

“Yeah,” Glori said.  “Thanks.  Again.”

“Kosk, are you okay?” Bredan called up.

“Bloody wonderful,” the dwarf shot back.  “No sign of the bastard.”

The others hurried up to join him.  “Bet your scaly little pals sent up a cheer when they heard that,” Kosk growled.

“I bet they’re already a mile away by now,” Bredan said.

Glori had headed over toward the chest, but abruptly drew back.  “Crap,” she said.

“What is it?” Bredan asked, only to recoil as he got a whiff of the same stink.

“Literally crap, I think,” Glori said.  “It looks like someone dumped a chamber pot in there.”

“If I can’t have it, no one can?” Quellan asked.

“Looks like our friends paused to grab their loot before heading down to meet us,” Kosk said.

“If so, they still might have it on them,” Glori said.  She’d turned halfway back toward the stairs before Quellan stopped her.  “The boy, first,” he said.

“Right.”

They started forward again.  The cave extended for quite a ways, becoming more irregular and rough as they pushed on.  They passed a pair of rough bedrolls, mounds of cloth and fur that stank almost as badly as the foul mess that had been dumped in the chest.  Finally the light revealed the back of the cave, the rough wall obscured by a small forest of mineral formations.

“I think I saw something moving over there!” Glori hissed, pointing into one irregular corner where the light didn’t quite reach.

They readied their weapons, but no threat emerged from the shadows.  Quellan finally bent and tossed his stone forward.  The glowing rock skittered across the floor, coming to a stop at the base of one of the larger stalagmites.

The light revealed the prisoner.  It wasn’t a boy, but a full-grown woman.  She was securely tied with ropes around her ankles, knees, and elbows, with her hands secured in what had to be a painful tension behind her back.  She was gagged, with another rope fastened around her throat that connected to the mineral pillar and kept her from lying down.

But what caught their attention most immediately was her appearance.  She might have been human, save for the obvious red tint to her skin, brighter and deeper than any sunburn, and the pale horns that jutted from her forehead and twisted back in tight curves above her ears.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 44

Bredan started forward toward the bound woman, but Kosk stopped him with a hand on his arm.  “Careful.  She’s a tiefling.  Fiendspawn.”

“She’s a prisoner,” Glori said.

“Yes, and we don’t know why she’s here,” the dwarf said.  “Her kind are dangerous.”

The woman could clearly hear their exchange but only watched silently, her only movement the shifting of her chest with each breath.  Her clothes looked like they might have been of good quality once, but now were rather the worse for wear.

Bredan pulled away from Kosk’s grasp.  He turned to Glori and extended a hand, nodding toward her belt.  After just a moment’s hesitation she drew out her dagger and handed it over hilt-first.  The smith took it and headed over to the prisoner.  Kosk didn’t stand in his way, but he shifted to the side in a meaningful move to give him clear access if anything happened.

Bredan knelt before the tiefling woman.  “We’re not going to hurt you,” he said.  “I’m going to cut you free, okay?”  At her nod he leaned forward and severed the rope connecting her to the stalagmite.  She slumped forward, wincing as the motion sent twinges through obviously strained muscles.  But she managed to scoot herself up and turned so he could get at the ropes binding her wrists and elbows.

Once Bredan had cut those bindings she extended her arms and flexed her fingers.  She reached up—moving slowly, obviously not trying to provoke them—and undid the gag.  “Do you have water?” she asked.

Glori handed over her flask, and she drank deeply before handing it back.  “Thank you,” she said.  Bredan had left her legs tied, but she didn’t ask him to cut the remaining bonds just yet.

“What are you doing here?” Kosk asked.

“I thought it would be obvious,” the tiefling said.

“I’m Glori, by the way.  The sour dwarf is Kosk, the looming mountain over there is Quellan, and the dashing warrior who freed you is Bredan.”

The woman looked at each of them in turn with a slightly bemused expression.  “I am Xeeta.”

“That’s an unusual name,” Glori said.

“Not where I’m from.”

“And where is that, exactly?” Kosk asked.

“From the south.  The Island Kingdoms.”

“You’re a long way from home,” the dwarf said.

“Yes.”

“I think what my friend was getting at before,” Quellan said, “Is how you came to be captured by the kobolds.”

Xeeta let out a deep sigh.  “Stupidity and bad luck, I suppose.  I was traveling through the hills near here and became fatigued.  I came upon a campsite that looked like it was used fairly often, so I assumed that meant the region was safe.  I normally am a fairly light sleeper, but they caught me unawares.”

“You were traveling alone?” Kosk asked.

She straightened at that, though it had to cause her at least some pain to do so, especially with her legs still bound.  “Yes.  For some reason, many people don’t feel inclined to trust me.”

“I understand,” Quellan said, and something in the way he said it had her looking at him again.  “Bredan, you should free her legs, those ropes must be uncomfortable.”

“Quite so,” Xeeta said.  She waited until Bredan cut the remaining few lengths of rope, then she sighed and extended her legs.  Her trousers were cut in several places, showing that the reddish tint to her skin extended over her entire body.  There were also a number of places where her clothes were marked with old bloodstains.  “I think I will wait a moment before trying to stand up, if that’s okay with you.”

“How long have you been here?” Glori asked.

“A few days.  Though it feels like longer.”

“We came here looking for a boy,” Quellan said.  “A human child of eleven years who went missing from a nearby village.”

“I haven’t seen any other prisoners since I’ve been here,” Xeeta said.  “I assume you ran into Jargo and Cthel.  Are they dead?”

“The half-ogre is,” Kosk said.  “The boy killed him,” he added, nodding toward Bredan.

Xeeta smiled, revealing teeth that were slightly pointed, and Bredan flushed.  “The mongrelman got away,” Quellan said.  “He might have gotten past us.”

Xeeta nodded.  “He’s stealthy, that one.”

“What were they doing here?” Glori asked.

“From what I could overhear, they arrived here a couple of weeks ago.  Killed the kobolds’ chief and took over the tribe.  They’ve been sponging off them ever since.”

“We figured it was something like that,” Quellan said.

“Did they talk about any plans?” Glori asked.  “Raids they might have been planning, that sort of thing.”

“Not specifically, but recently I overheard them talking about moving on.  Something about trouble in the north, and opportunities for a ‘big score.’”

The companions shared a look.  “The King’s proclamation,” Glori said.  “They must have heard about it.”

“Proclamation?” Xeeta asked.

“There’s been an invasion, near Adelar,” Bredan said.  “An army of goblinoids burned some villages and killed a bunch of people.  The King’s called for aid.  We were headed that way when we heard about the missing boy.”

“I see.”

“You hadn’t heard anything about that?” Kosk asked.

“I don’t spend much time in settlements, for obvious reasons.”

“That sounds lonely,” Glori said.

Xeeta blinked at her in surprise, but said nothing.

Kosk cleared his throat.  “It’s clear that the boy isn’t here.  Let’s finish our sweep and get out of here.”

“Did Jargo and Cthel have any treasure hidden around here?” Glori asked Xeeta.

“They had a cache under a rock near where they sleep, but I think they took it with them before they left to confront you.”

“How much you want to bet that shifty bastard has it all with him now?” Bredan said.

Xeeta tried to stand up, only to sag as her legs gave out under her.  Bredan took hold of her and held her upright.  “Thank you,” she said.  “Do you mind if I accompany you, at least to this village you spoke of?”

“The locals there might not be welcoming,” Kosk cautioned.

“We can speak on your behalf,” Quellan said.

“That might not be necessary,” Xeeta said.  She waved a hand and spoke a word that reverberated softly in the air before vanishing from their memories.  The air in front of her shimmered, and her appearance changed.  She was still more or less the same size and shape, but her tiefling features were gone, replaced by a milky-pale skin, light blonde hair, and green eyes.  Her horns disappeared, and when she smiled her teeth looked normal.

“You’re a wizard!” Glori exclaimed.

“A sorcerer, actually,” Xeeta said.  “My powers are innate.”

Kosk had shifted into a ready stance as soon as the tiefling had begun her spell, and he only relaxed slightly when it became clear she wasn’t going to unleash some nasty destructive magic.  “I knew it,” he muttered.

“By any chance, have you seen a rod of black wood, about the length of my arm?” Xeeta asked.

“No, but it might be in the crap box,” Glori said.

That drew a raised eyebrow, but no comment.

They made their way back out of the cave.  Xeeta allowed Bredan to help her, though she did a good job of masking the obvious pain she felt as sensation returned to her battered limbs.  Now that they knew what to look for they could easily see the stalagmite that had been shifted to conceal the bandit leaders’ treasure.  Glori took a look inside the hollow space, which was just big enough to hold a small chest or other container.  Now, of course, it was empty.

Once they returned to the outer room, Xeeta went over to examine the open chest.  On detecting the mess that the bandits had left behind her nose wrinkled and she muttered, “Animals.”  But she had no difficulty reaching into the chest and pulling out a black rod.  It was smeared with filth, but she held it out and summoned her magic.  Her eyes seemed to flash and wisps of flame erupted from her fingers clenched around the wooden shaft.  They traveled up and down the length of the rod, scouring it clean without inflicting any apparent damage on the wood.

“Is any of this other stuff yours?” Glori asked.

“No,” Xeeta said.  “This is all I need.”

“I think we could have used you earlier,” Bredan said.

“Let’s go,” Kosk said.

“The kobolds have been destroyed, I presume?” Xeeta asked as they started back down the stairs.  The tiefling woman was moving more easily now, though she still held onto one wall for support as she negotiated the steps.

“We killed most of the warriors,” Glori said.  “The rest we let go.”

Xeeta glanced quickly at each of them in turn, noting the dwarf’s scowl in particular, but made no comment.

The main lair was as they had left it.  There was no sign of its former inhabitants, or the mongrelman rogue.

Xeeta walked across the room until she was standing over Jargo.  She muttered something in a harsh, guttural language, the abruptly raised the rod and smashed it down into the dead warrior’s face.  She delivered several more blows in rapid succession, then drew back, breathing heavily.  Bredan had started to step toward her, a hand raised to offer support, but he hesitated.

Glori came around the other side of the half-ogre.  “Big surprise, his purse is gone,” she reported.

“Thieving little bastards,” Kosk muttered.

“We accomplished what we came here to do,” Quellan said.

“Did we?” the dwarf asked.

“We’ll find the boy,” the cleric said.  “We swore an oath.”

Bredan sidled slightly closer to Xeeta.  “Are you okay?”

The tiefling took a deep, steadying breath, and then straightened.  “I’m fine.  I’m ready to leave this place now.”

They filed toward the exit.  None of them looked back.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 45

Xeeta stared at herself in the tiny mirror.

The mirror was of poor quality and showed a slightly blurred image, but the distinctive features of her heritage were clearly visible.  The clothes were new, and cheaper than what she’d been wearing, but they were clean and sturdy.  Between that and the natural imperfections in the mirror she could almost imagine that the face she saw belonged to a stranger.  Almost.

She turned away and looked around the room.  It was also tiny, though clean and neat.  The proprietor of the Gray Oak Inn clearly put a lot of effort into his accommodations, even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Her gaze swept back to the basin under the mirror and the small purse that sat upon its edge.  It held only a handful of silver and copper coins.  Her rescuers had agreed to give her a share of the money they’d taken from the kobolds.  It was generous, especially since she’d done nothing to earn such a reward, but she couldn’t help but think back to earlier days.  When she’d left Li Syval she’d had a purse full of platinum trade marks and electrum obots, along with fine clothes trimmed in silver thread and a dagger with an opal embedded in the hilt.

That was a long time ago.

She shook off the memories of the past, angry at herself.  She had long since stopped allowing herself to wallow in what might have been.  It was well past time to embrace reality.

She looked back at the mirror, challenging the face staring back at her.  Finally she lifted a hand, spoke the words of magic that summoned her power.  The image in the mirror blurred again, but this time it was replaced by a new face, one with pale skin, a _normal_ shade, framed with gentle curls instead of twisting horns.

She reached out and took both the purse and her rod.  Two steps were sufficient to bring her to the door and the hallway beyond.  She didn’t bother locking the door behind her.  It wasn’t as if she had anything worth stealing.

A few more steps, simple enough, thought they felt harder than the first.  Finally she was standing in front of another door.  She could hear the sounds of activity from the common room drifting up from the stairs at the end of the hall.  She normally didn’t enjoy crowds, but at that moment those noises pulled at her like a magnet tugging on iron shavings.  Her disguise would last for an hour, plenty of time to go down and enjoy a glass of wine or a bite of food and pretend she was normal.

_You’re being a coward_, she berated herself.  She reached up and rapped on the door.

The response came at once.  “Come in.”

Bredan’s room was only slightly larger than hers, though it had an actual table and two chairs crowded into a corner.  The warrior was seated in one of those chairs, while Glori sat on the bed with her legs tucked under her.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Xeeta said when she saw the half-elf woman.

“You’re not intruding,” Glori said.  “I was just about to head down to the common room, if you were looking to talk with Bredan alone…”  There was a hint of something in her tone that had the warrior—gods, he was really just a boy—coloring up his neck to his ears.

“It’s quite all right,” Xeeta said, coming into the room enough so she could close the door behind her.  “I’d like to speak with both of you, actually.”

“Would you like to sit?” Bredan asked.  At her nod he took the other chair and turned it around so it faced into the center of the room.

“Thank you.  I understand you’re going to continue your search for the missing boy tomorrow.”

“Yes, there are a few more sites on our list,” Glori said.  “Apparently this village is surrounded by abandoned houses and old ruins.”

“This whole region was once part of the Mai’i Empire,” Xeeta said.  “The nature of its collapse left a great deal of wreckage behind.”

“So we’ve been told,” Bredan said.

“I take it you’d like to come with us?” Glori asked.

Xeeta was not often caught off guard, but she blinked in surprise and betrayed a moment’s hesitation before nodding.

“We could use another spellcaster,” Bredan said.

Glori and Xeeta continued to match stares.  “You’ll need to convince Quellan and Kosk,” the bard said.

“I know.  I thought maybe you could speak for me.”

“Why would they object?” Bredan asked.

The two woman shared a knowing look.  Bredan was about to say more, but saw that something more was going on and held his tongue.

“They’ll want to know why,” Glori said.

“I thought about using the argument of my debt to you, for freeing me from those bastards.”  She indicated her new clothes.  “For helping me get back, for everything.”

“That we would have done for anyone,” Glori said.

“Yes.  Yes, I see that.  Even Kosk would have done that, maybe.”

“So since you’re not going that way, what reason did you decide on?”

“The truth.  It seemed appropriate.”

“And that truth?” Glori asked.  Bredan thought that she already knew the answer, but needed to hear it.  He looked over at Xeeta, who nodded as if she’d come to the same conclusion.

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“We’re probably not going to find anything at this old estate,” Glori said.  “And our road eventually leads north.”

“Well then, I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Xeeta said.

“I expect the others will want to hear more about your story,” Glori said.

Xeeta nodded again, clearly unsurprised.  “It’s not a tale I wish to recollect, but it is a fair request.”

Glori looked at her a moment longer than sprang up.  “I think that Quellan and Kosk are in the common room.  We can…”

But even as Bredan and Xeeta started to get up they could hear someone approaching.  It was impossible to miss the distinctive tread of the cleric ascending the narrow steps of the inn; even though Quellan tried to be unobtrusive it was hard to conceal six feet and three hundred pounds of armored half-orc.  Glori went over and opened the door to the room.

“Ah, Bredan, Glori, I was looking for you,” the cleric said when he appeared in the doorway.  If he was surprised to see the tiefling there he quickly recovered.  “Miss Xeeta,” he said.

“Xeeta wants to go with us tomorrow,” Bredan said.

“Oh?  Your aid would be welcome.”

“I told you,” Bredan said.

“I would not wish to insert tension in your relationship with your companion,” Xeeta said.

Quellan waved a hand.  “Kosk’s bark is worse than his bite.  He’s more tolerant than he seems.  After all, he accepted a half-breed as his friend.”

“You’re more than your bloodline,” Glori said.

“Thank you,” Quellan said.  “I would say that the same applies to you, Miss Xeeta.  Don’t be alarmed if Kosk treats you with caution, or even suspicion, that is just his way.  Master Karras received much the same treatment at first.”

“I don’t see how that’s changed,” Bredan muttered.

“I understand that trust is something that must be earned,” Xeeta said.  “I appreciate being given the chance to earn it.”

“You came up here to tell us something, Quellan?” Glori asked.

“Oh, yes.  The mother of the local notable… Anthernorn… she sought us out, spoke to Kosk and me downstairs.  She wants to help us in our investigation of the old abandoned estate.”

“News travels fast,” Bredan said.  “We only just briefed the council about the bandits a little while ago.”

“Small town,” Glori said.

“I got the impression that Althea—that’s her name—is the real driving force behind the family,” Quellan said.  “She strikes me as the kind of woman who knows everything that happens within her demesne.”

“I’m familiar with that sort,” Xeeta said.  “What kind of aid is she offering?”

“She wants to send one of her family retainers with us tomorrow morning.”

“The one with the sword that we saw earlier?” Bredan asked.  “That first time we met with the local council?”

“That’s the one,” Quellan said.  “His name is Colum, and apparently he knows the area quite well.”

“Is he any good?” Glori asked.  “Can he handle himself?”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Quellan said.

“What did Kosk say to this offer?” Bredan asked.

Quellan smiled.  “I believe he is interested in expediting our trip so we can resume our travel north.”

Bredan snorted.  “Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what he said.”

“Should I go speak to him now?” Xeeta asked.

“Let me,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps you’ll come down and join us for a drink later?  We’ll likely get an early start tomorrow, but I think we’ve earned a moment’s respite.”

“I can come down for a little while,” Xeeta said.  She made a gesture with her hand that highlighted the changes to her features.

Glori nodded; she understood.  “I was thinking of turning in,” she said.  “Especially since I know what Kosk’s definition of ‘early start’ means.”

“I’ll buy you a drink, Xeeta,” Bredan said, but as he got up he hesitated.  “Should I bring my sword down or leave it in the room?”

“I think we’re safe in an inn common room,” Quellan said.

“I don’t know, I’ve been in some pretty wild inns in my time,” Glori said.

“I can almost hear Kosk’s voice in my head,” Bredan said.  “Should I be worried about that?”

Xeeta allowed a small smile at the interplay.  “I can protect you, if need be,” she said.  She snapped her fingers and a wisp of flame rose from her hand, dancing in her grasp for a moment before dissolving into nothing.

“Well, I guess I can skip the flint and steel at the next campfire,” Bredan said with a grin.  He’d finally decided on taking the sword, tucking the baldric under his arm.  He stuck out his other elbow toward the tiefling.  “Shall we, then?”

After a moment Xeeta took his arm, and they headed downstairs.

“I think she likes him,” Glori said when they were alone.

Quellan looked suddenly awkward.  “I thought… you and Bredan…”

“We’re just friends,” Glori said.

“Ah.  Well.  I know you wanted to get some rest, so, ah, I’ll just go, then.”  He started to turn toward the door.

“Quellan?”

He turned back.  “Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re with us.  Both you and Kosk.  I don’t think we could have managed without you.”

“I’m glad too.  Good night, Glori.”

“Good night, Quellan.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 46

“You sure this is a good idea?” Kosk asked Quellan as they prepared to set off.

The small company had gathered in the common room of the Gray Oak Inn.  Olag Beetlebrim was standing behind the bar, watching as they checked their gear.  Outside the front windows the village remained dark in the predawn gloom.  Northpine remained asleep, even the hard-working farmers and artisans of the small community still abed at that early hour.

Besides the innkeeper, only a few of the locals had woken to see them off.  Erron Laddrick was there, along with Comoran.  Also present was Colum, the Anthernorn’s retainer.  He had added a wool cloak against the morning chill, but it didn’t conceal the chain shirt he wore or the sword and dagger that hung from his hip.  The man-at-arms was not very talkative, and merely checked his gear as he waited for them to leave.

Quellan knew that his friend wasn’t talking about the locals.  He looked over at Xeeta, who was standing in the corner near the side door.  She wore a cloak with the cowl pulled forward to conceal her features.  The cleric understood; she was saving her magic against possible need and thus had not used her _disguise self_ spell to conceal her true features.  Comoran shot her a few curious looks, but he did not approach her.

“She hasn’t done anything that would cause us to doubt her story,” Quellan said.

“I’m sure you noticed that she didn’t tell us all that much, in the way of details,” Kosk noted.  “Just that she grew up in the Isles, and had to leave when her sponsor or patron or whatever they call it died.”

“I have heard that a person has a right to their past,” Quellan said.  “That they should be judged on who they are, not what they are.”

“You read that in one of your books?”

“Actually, I got it from a friend, one who is wiser than he lets on.”

Kosk muttered something under his breath.

“You have good instincts for knowing who to punch,” Quellan said.  “I have good instincts for knowing who to trust.”

Kosk snorted, but didn’t offer any further argument.  They’d spoken at length the night before, and not just about the decision to allow the tiefling woman to join them.  Quellan knew that once a decision had been made, it was not in his friend’s manner to second-guess it; he just liked to complain.

Comoran came forward and lifted the icon of Sorevas that he wore.  “I will call upon the god’s blessing to bring you success and keep you safe,” he said.  “Normally we wait for the rising of the sun for the morning invocation…”

“Why don’t you wait, then,” Kosk said.  “The rest of us are going to get moving.”

The priest stared after them as they filed out through the side door and made their way out of the village.  This time their route would take them north and west, into a region of light forest and scattered hills.  According to Colum they would reach the old mill after about two hours of walking, with the abandoned estate roughly another hour past that.

The track they were following looked like it had accommodated carts at one point, but now it was overgrown and disused.  Laddrick had told them that sometimes Northpiners used to came out this way to cut wood or gather herbs, but that recently few went far from the security of the village, especially with the uncertainty of events surrounding the disappearance of the village boy and the death of the local hunter.

They certainly didn’t encounter anyone that morning.  The sun was slow to rise, while a thin fog hung over the surrounding hills, obscuring visibility past half a mile or so.  Kosk set his usual brisk pace.  Colum carried a portable writing kit in a satchel he wore under his cloak, and he frequently took out a quill to make notations on the sheaf of maps he carried.  But their new companion had no difficulty keeping up, and his eyes were in constant motion as they traveled, taking in every detail of the surrounding landscape.

They had been walking for maybe half an hour when they came to a copse of trees that extended along the length of the road.  A row of stumps indicated that this was one of the spots where the villagers harvested wood.  A small hand-cart had been left overturned by the edge of the path, the dense growth surrounding it suggesting it had been there for quite some time.

Kosk barely slowed, but Xeeta called out, “A moment.  Colum, if we’re going to be traveling together it is only fair that I show you something about me.”

The man-at-arms turned toward her, but before she could continue Bredan said, “You should know that it’s not a problem for us.”

Colum didn’t say anything, and after a moment Xeeta reached up and drew back her cowl.  The weak light of the morning was more than sufficient to reveal the bright coloration of her skin and the spirals of horn that extended from her temples.

The man-at-arms betrayed no panic or alarm; he just said, “Do the Anthernorns know, or the Council?”

“It’s not their concern,” Bredan said.  He looked like he might say more, but Glori touched him lightly on the arm and he subsided.

Colum looked around at each of them in turn.  Finally, he shrugged.  “Don’t see how it affects the job I’ve been ordered to do,” he said.

“If that’s settled, then let’s keep moving,” Kosk said.  “I want to get there and back before nightfall.”

They pressed on.  The road grew more overgrown.  They had no difficulty following it, but they had to switch to single file as the bushes and stalks of prickleburr pressed in from either side.  The route meandered around low hills that were hardly obstacles at all compared to the rough landscape they had navigated over the last few days.  The fog burned away but the sun remained hidden behind low clouds, leaving the day dim and gloomy.

They encountered the stream shortly before they came to the mill.  The structure was sagging and decrepit, the large wooden wheel that had once powered the internal machinery lying broken on its side in the weeds.  The spillway was overgrown with reeds and other growth that had opened gaping holes in the wooden framework.

The mill itself was in little better shape.  The foundation was stone and had held up reasonably well, but the wooden boards of the upper level were warped and rotten.  There were holes where iron fittings had been scavenged, and the main door was entirely gone, leaving a dark hole at the top of a short flight of stone steps that led into the interior.  Other than the gurgle of the adjacent stream, the place was utterly silent.

Colum took out his writing kit and began sorting through his parchments.  Kosk looked over at him and growled, “We’re not here to make maps.”

Without looking up, the man-at-arms said, “The child might have gone inside, fallen through the floor or gotten pinned under a beam.”  He found the sheet he was looking for and took out a quill and a pot of ink that fit into a slot on the top of the wooden kit.

Kosk looked sour, but Quellan said, “Come on, let’s take a quick look.”  He opened his hand and summoned forth _light_ that shone from the palm of his glove.

The others started to follow them toward the entry, but Kosk held up a hand.  “You lot stay here and keep an eye out,” he said.  “This place isn’t that big, and it’ll only take us a moment to check it out.”  Without waiting for a reply he followed Quellan inside.

“Your companion is not shy about sharing what he thinks,” Xeeta said.  She went over to a wooden fencepost that no longer had a fence to go with it and leaned against it before taking out her waterskin.

“Yeah, he’s not shy,” Glori said.  “And his people skills could use some… refinement.  But he’s good in a fight.”

“When he’s not charging in alone to try to get himself killed,” Bredan said.

“You’ve been together for a while, then?” Xeeta asked.

“Not that long,” Bredan said.  He walked over and found another orphaned post close to her.  This one sagged under his weight and he quickly stepped clear before it would have dropped him on his backside.  “We only joined up to find…”

“Wait, where’s Colum?” Glori interrupted.

“He walked over there, around the edge of the building,” Xeeta said.  “I believe he was taking notations on the condition of the structure.”

Glori nodded, but after a moment said, “He should know better than to wander off alone.”

“I’ll go check on him,” Bredan said.  But he’d only taken a few steps when they heard a loud, alien sound, a sharp chittering that they couldn’t quite classify.  But they had no difficulty identifying the source of the scream that followed.

Bredan and Glori sprinted around the corner of the mill.  They saw Colum at once, along with the source of the strange sound.

The man-at-arms was being held in the grasp of a praying mantis the size of a wagon.  The thing had him pinned in its hooked arms, clutching him against its body as he struggled weakly to break free.  Seeing Bredan and Glori, it spun around and trotted off with its prize.

The two couldn’t immediately follow, as a second creature emerged from the tall growth along the stream and charged at them.


----------



## carborundum

Giant insects! It's been a while since I used those. Thanks for the idea!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Giant insects! It's been a while since I used those. Thanks for the idea!



They are pretty challenging foes (CR3 in 3.5e). One conversion can be found at https://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/Giant_Mantis_(5e_Creature). Mine here weren't quite that tough, but it was still fortunate that the party didn't have to face both of them together...

* * * 

Chapter 47

Bredan rushed forward to engage the giant insect before it could get to Glori.  The second mantis was somewhat smaller than the first, the size of a cart rather than a wagon, but it still loomed over the warrior as the two closed to melee range.

The creature was incredibly fast, and it reached Bredan just as he was getting his sword clear of its scabbard.  He tried to slash at it before it could strike, but one of its forelimbs lashed out and snagged the blade.  The other limb snapped out to try to grab him the way its mate had grabbed Colum, but he managed to just duck under its grasp.  For a moment the two combatants awkwardly wrestled over the sword, but then the mantis jerked back and launched the weapon flying into the stream.  Pulled off balance, Bredan staggered to the side, disarmed and vulnerable.

An arrow stuck into the insect’s side.  Glori’s shot distracted it for a moment, but the arrow had barely penetrated and as it twisted around the missile was knocked clear.  It took another step toward Bredan, who’d managed to dig out his small work hammer from the kit of tools he carried.  The weapon looked pathetically tiny against the massive scale of the creature, especially as it reared up in anticipation of another lunging attack.

But before the mantis could hurl itself forward again, there was a bright flash of light and heat.  The insect stumbled back for a moment, its long limbs skittering on the packed earth that surrounded the mill, before turning toward the source of this new assault.

This time it didn’t hesitate, launching itself forward toward Xeeta.

The sorceress had just come around the corner of the building, and as the insect charged she ducked back behind that cover.  The mantis followed, cutting the edge of the structure with a dexterity that belied its considerable size.  As it rounded the mill it lifted its claws to attack its tormentor.

What it did not anticipate was finding a half-orc cleric standing there to meet it.

The priest slammed his mace into the mantis’s armored carapace.  The blow knocked it back a step, and though it recovered they could all see the shattered plate that oozed gelatinous fluids from inside its body cavity.  Glori tried to circle around to get a shot at that newly vulnerable location, but before she could finish the maneuver the mantis turned and lunged again at the cleric.  Quellan stood his ground, lifting his shield to meet its charge.

But before the insect could reach him there was a massive crash from above.  All of the combatants—even the bug—looked up as a segment of rotten boards from the upper level of the mill exploded outward and Kosk came flying out from the interior.  The dwarf dropped faster than the mantis could react, landing hard on its back.  His staff drove _through_ its body, impaling it like a spear, and his weight overpowered the strength of its spindly legs.  As it fell the dwarf rolled clear, leaving his weapon stuck through the dying creature.

The adventurers gathered to watch the creature die, careful to stay clear of the last violent twitches of its long limbs.  Bredan was the last to arrive, dripping wet from recovering his sword.  “The other one’s gone, with Colum,” he said.

His words stirred them back to the moment.  “Is everyone else all right?” Quellan said.  “Bredan?”

The young warrior shook his head.  “Just wrenched my wrist a bit is all.  I’m fine.”

“We have to go after Colum,” Glori said.

“Bug’s probably taking him back to its nest,” Kosk said.  “If he’s not dead already, he will be soon.”

“We can’t just leave him,” Glori insisted.

“Even if he is dead, leaving such a creature alive so close to the village would be dangerous,” Quellan said.

“If it were me, I’d want you guys to come after me,” Bredan said.

“There could be more of those things where it’s going, more than we can handle,” Kosk said.

“All the more reason to deal with them now,” Quellan said.  “What if they come on us on our way back, perhaps when our strength is depleted from another encounter?”

Kosk looked at each of them in turn before settling his gaze on Xeeta.  “Well?  You have anything to add?”

“I will defer to the will of the majority,” she said.

“Looks like we’re going looking for trouble again,” the dwarf muttered as yanked his staff from the dead mantis.  They went back around to the side of the mill.  The only thing they found there was Colum’s writing kit and a few loose pieces of parchment.  Bredan picked one up and showed it to the others; it was a map of the area that showed the mill and stream clearly.  “Looks like he was taking notes,” he said.

“Bloody idiot should have been keeping his eyes open for trouble,” Kosk said.

“It might not have helped him,” Bredan said.  “Those things were fast.”

“All right, if we’re doing this, no sense standing around chattering,” Kosk said.  He crossed the stream and trudged off into the tall grass on the other side at his usual brisk pace.

“Did you see anything inside?” Glori asked Quellan as they hurried after the dwarf.

“Nothing,” Quellan said.  “No sign of the boy.”

“Well, at least the way it ran off was sort of the way we were going anyway,” Glori said.

Her statement proved less accurate as the day went on, as they followed the giant insect’s meandering course.  At least its tracks proved relatively easy to follow.  Its wedge-shaped body left a noticeable path through the tall grasses, weeds, and scattered brush that filled the landscape beyond the mill.  They also found periodic bloodstains that did not bode well for the condition of their erstwhile companion, but no other signs of the mantis’s captive.

They had been walking for maybe half an hour when the trail vanished into a dense thicket.  There was no mistaking where the mantis had gone, but it was also clear that it could have been anywhere in there, as there was ample growth to conceal a creature of its size—or a dozen of them.

“Think it’s in there?” Glori asked.

“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Kosk said.

“You smell that?” Bredan asked.  At that prompt they all sniffed the air.  There wasn’t much of a breeze, but they could all make out just a hint of something acrid that did not encourage exploration of the thicket.

“We could try and make some noise, try to lure it out,” Glori suggested.

“I have a better idea,” Xeeta said.  She raised a hand, and flames erupted within her palm.

“That could end up burning the entire region,” Quellan said.

“All the better,” Kosk said.

“Could you maybe just make a display?” Glori said.  “Throw a blast up over the thicket, maybe accompanied by one of Quellan’s augmented shouts.”

“That could work,” Bredan said.

“And if there are a dozen of those things in there?” Kosk asked.

“Then we take cover,” Quellan said.  “Those trees over there… there’s enough of them that creatures the size of those bugs would have some difficulty getting at us.”

“That wouldn’t slow them for long,” Kosk said.

“Look, we didn’t come all this way to back off now,” Glori said.  She took out her bow and fitted an arrow to the string.  Bredan drew his sword and took up a ready position between her and the thicket.

“Bloody reckless,” Kosk said.  But he lifted his staff and staked out a likely spot.

Xeeta remained the furthest back.  She glanced over at Quellan, who raised his holy symbol and nodded.

The _fire bolt_ arched from the sorceress’s hand and streaked over the thicket.  As it reached its peak Quellan used his own magic to utter a deafening shout that launched flights of birds into the air from nearby hilltops.

The echoes of the shout were still bouncing back to them when there was a sudden burst of motion within the thicket.  That was all the warning they got before the giant mantis exploded out of the growth and charged at them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 48

Quellan was the closest to the giant insect’s rush.

The mantis dwarfed even him, but the cleric did not flinch from its charge.  He raised his shield and thrust forward, meeting its assault.  Its front limbs snapped over the wooden barrier, seizing hold of it and trying to pull it from his grasp.  But Quellan refused to either let go or let himself be dragged in.  He let out a yell as he and the bug struggled for control.  The creature thrust itself forward on its hind legs until it was half on top of him, its long neck slipping forward as it looked for a vulnerable place to bite.

The cleric would not been able to hold on long against that sheer ferocity, but fortunately his companions were quick to respond.  Glori shot it from the flank, and while her arrow again did little damage it distracted it just enough for Quellan to yank his shield free and reset his defense.  Kosk accomplished more, snapping one of its hind legs with a solid blow from his staff.  The mantis leaned to the side as the limb collapsed under it, but it still clearly had a lot of fight left in it.

But the injury kept it from reacting in time as Bredan ran in from its opposite side.  The creature snapped out a forelimb as he charged into range, perhaps intending to try the same trick of yanking away his sword that its mate had achieved, but this time the blade had the smith’s full strength behind the swing.  It clipped the mantis’s limb, not only severing it at the joint but continuing through to strike its neck.  The critical hit shattered its thick hide and separated the insect’s head from its body.  The creature’s bulging eyes flashed in the weak light as the head tumbled end-over-end before bouncing to a stop a few steps away.  The rest of the creature shuddered and crumpled, its limbs twitching a few times before falling still.

“Damn,” Glori said, staring down at it.

“Very effective,” Xeeta added.

It didn’t take them very long to find Colum’s remains.  The man-at-arms hadn’t been dead long, but the stench of death already filled the thicket.  When they saw the body there was no doubt.  They took his gear, anything that might be useful or worth returning to his employers back in Northpine.  None of them had even learned if he had any kin back in the village.

They found his sword lying a few feet away from the body, still in its scabbard.  Glori took it and hooked the scabbard to her belt.  “I can carry that for you,” Bredan said.
“No, I’ll take it,” she said.  Something had changed in her manner, something that had him looking at her in surprise.

Not far from where they found Colum they encountered something else of interest, half-a-dozen ovoid eggs the size of a man’s forearm.  There was no need to debate their fate; Xeeta roasted them with magical fire and then Kosk crushed them thoroughly with his staff.

As they were leaving the thicket Glori pulled Bredan aside.  “Not now, but when we get back… I want you to teach me how to use this.”  She tapped the sword hanging from her hip.

Bredan nodded.  “You know you don’t have to be fighting in the front…”

“I know.  I’d just feel better if I knew I could.”

“All right.”

They continued on in silence for a while.  Colum’s maps indicated that their detour had actually taken them a bit closer to the estate, and they decided to press on instead of backtracking to the mill.  It was easier to get lost in the open terrain, especially since all the hills and clumps of forest tended to look identical after a while.  But the terrain was much more forgiving than it had been in their earlier excursions, and it was only a little after the sun’s peak at noon when they caught sight of both the road and their destination.

They could see the estate house from a good distance off.  It was surrounded by fields that had been long fallow, the once-orderly rows overgrown with weeds.  A small orchard of fruit trees followed the path before it turned into a thicket near the right side of the house.  There was one large outbuilding, a barn or stable from the look of it, though it looked tired and decrepit.  The house itself was in little better shape.  Even from a distance they could see that one whole side of the structure was sagging and uneven, with damage to the roof that looked like at least a partial collapse had taken place sometime in the past.  As they got closer they could see that the windows on the lower story had all been boarded up, but the purpose in that seemed to be defeated by the fact that the front door appeared to be partially open.

“Well, this looks like a mess,” Glori said.

“If the kid came here, he’s braver than I thought,” Kosk muttered.

“The open door suggests that someone might be using the place…” Xeeta began, but she was interrupted by Bredan, who lifted a hand.  “Shh, did you hear that?”

They were all silent, but whatever sound had alerted the warrior was not repeated.  “I thought I heard something coming from over there,” he said, indicating the barn.

“Let’s go check it out,” Quellan said.  “The house will keep for a moment.”

They made their way over across the weed-strewn yard to the front of the barn.  The heavy doors were closed but the wood was too cracked and rotten to offer much of an obstacle.  After shooting a quick look at his companions to ensure they were ready, Bredan took hold of one of the doors and dragged it open.

The door swung on hinges that looked to be more rust than iron, creaking ominously.  When he’d gotten it halfway open the upper hinge snapped.  Bredan left the door hanging unevenly and stepped inside, the others close behind.

The entire front half of the barn was one large room.  It looked unremarkable, with two stalls for animals and bins for grains that were all empty.  There were a few pieces of rotten tack hanging from nails and heaps of what might have been tools in the corners, now just rusted junk.  There was a missing board on the wall to their right that let in a shaft of afternoon sunlight.  An open doorway led to a back room.

Bredan stood there in the entry for a moment, scanning the dim interior.  He couldn’t shake the impression that something was off, something he couldn’t quite place.  Dust raised by his entry sparkled in the light that filtered through the numerous gaps in the boards.  The place stank of decay.

Glori finally shook him out of his reverie.  “Come on, you’re blocking the way,” she said.  Bredan shot her an apologetic look and started forward, but he’d only managed one step before a loud clatter from the back room shattered the quiet.  He immediately unslung his sword, the steel hissing as he drew it from its scabbard.

A slight form shot forward from the back room, but instead of rushing the companions it made a beeline for the missing board.  It was faster than Bredan, and it might have escaped if not for a dart of fire that shot past the young warrior and clipped the wall directly in front of the fleeing figure.  It let out a startled squeak and fell backwards into a pile of rusted shovels and hoes that collapsed around it in a wild cacophony.  The intruder managed to scramble out of that chaos but it barely got to its feet before Kosk smacked it heavily in the chest with his staff.  The impact knocked it back to the ground, stunned.

Quellan ran past them and used his cloak to put out the flames from Xeeta’s spell before they could threaten the barn.  The others converged on their captive, who turned out to be a very nervous goblin.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 49

“Well now, what do we have here?” Kosk asked.  “What are you doing here, gobbo?  Where’d you come from?  How many of you are here?”  The dwarf punctuated each question with a prod from his staff, drawing an increasingly shrill response that was just gibberish to most of them.

“Come on, can’t you see that he doesn’t speak our language?” Glori asked.

“Goblins are canny,” Kosk said.  “I wouldn’t assume anything when it comes to them, except that they’ll stick a knife in your back if you give them the chance.”  As he spoke he checked the goblin for weapons.  It had carried a small hand-axe that it had dropped when the dwarf had struck it earlier, but it did not appear to have anything else on its person.  It wore a rough tunic of poorly-tanned leather over fur leggings that looked to be carrying roughly their weight in dirt.  The goblin didn’t resist, it only looked around at each of them in turn with wide eyes.

“Do you speak their language?” Bredan asked Xeeta.  For a moment it looked like the tiefling wanted to say something, but she finally just shook her head.

“I do,” Quellan said as he rejoined the others.  “_Neeta kraktak?_” he asked.  “_Keevak akrat tak?_”

“Even their language sounds like rats chittering,” Kosk said.

The goblin responded tentatively.  “He says he is alone,” Quellan said.

“Well, we know that’s not true, then,” Kosk said.  “Better keep an eye out for its friends.”

“Whether or not it’s lying, that’s a good idea,” Glori said.  “I’ll keep an eye out in case the noise drew any attention.”  She sidled over to the crack in the wall and knelt next to it.  From that vantage she could see the side of the estate house, though nothing thus far had stirred in response to the disturbance.  There was another entrance there, a set of stone steps that led up to a single wooden door.

Quellan spoke to the goblin a bit more in its own tongue, and the creature responded.  “He says he doesn’t know anything about a missing human boy.  He says he was just looking for something to eat when we found him.”

“Don’t bloody lie to me,” Kosk said.  He bent over the huddled goblin, which couldn’t mistake the threat even if it could not understand his words.  He grabbed the creature by its vest and shook it.  “Don’t lie!  Where are your friends!”

The goblin let out a tinny shriek, then started babbling.  Quellan, who had started to step forward to intervene, stopped.  He asked a follow-up question, which the goblin responded to with another panicked litany.

“He says that the others are in the cellar of the house,” the cleric said.  “He says that they’re led by a bugbear named Gakrak.  He says that the boy is being kept there, that he’s alive and well.”

Kosk’s eyes bored into the goblin’s for another long moment before he released it.  The creature collapsed and huddled against the wall, holding up its hands to keep them at bay.  “I told you,” the dwarf growled.  “They’re a race of bloody liars.”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth now?” Bredan asked.

“Because we’re going to make it show us,” Kosk said, smacking his staff against his palm for emphasis.

Kosk took custody of the goblin when they left the barn.  He’d taken a few bits of old tack and fashioned a leash that he’d looped around the creature’s neck, keeping the strands clutched close in his fist.  The dwarf had issued enough warnings through Quellan that the goblin looked barely able to stand from fear.

Their prisoner led them back around to the front of the house and the open door that waited there.  The boards of the porch sagged and creaked as they put weight on them, but held.  Bredan checked out the door first, confirming that there wasn’t a small army of goblins waiting to ambush them before pushing it open the rest of the way and stepping inside.

The interior of the house was consistent with the overall impression of age and decay they’d gotten from outside.  The foyer was cluttered with animal droppings, leaves, and bits of broken wood and shattered glass.  A staircase that had once led up to the upper floor now lay in a collapsed wreck.  The balcony above it looked like it was waiting for only a strong gust of wind to follow it down.  Three arched exits led to other parts of the house.  The goblin hesitated only a moment before directing them to the one on the left.  Again Bredan cleared the way first, sidling up to the archway and peering through.  “I don’t see anything,” he said.

Kosk yanked the goblin back so their faces were close together.  “Remember what happens to you if you’re lying,” he growled.

The creature’s only response was a strangled gasp.

The room beyond the arch was spacious and once might have been a comfortable living room.  At the moment it was just a cluttered hazard.  The wooden furnishings were all in a state of advanced collapse, their upholstery given over to vermin and rodent nests.  This was the side of the building that was sagging, and the entire floor slanted at a noticeable angle.  The room had a high ceiling that rose to the full height of the building, and while the beams above were holding despite the structural damage the roof had collapsed in a few places, letting in shafts of light.

There were three exits.  The door leading outside that Glori had spotted earlier was in the far corner.  They could see why the goblin hadn’t taken them in that way; the entire door was covered in boards that had been nailed to the frame and the surrounding walls.  There was another interior door to their right, and another open archway further into the room.  The goblin pointed in that direction, and after another shared look they continued their explorations.  There was enough debris in the room to conceal multiple ambushers, but nothing stirred other than a rat that emerged from a ruined sofa and retreated with a skitter of tiny feet.

The archway led into another room that might have once been a parlor.  It was difficult to be certain, for the ceiling had collapsed, taking part of the far wall with it.  They could see outside through the gaps in the rubble, which was partially overgrown with plants that had taken advantage of the decay to penetrate into the structure.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” Glori said.

The goblin pointed at the mound of debris and said something.

“He says that the entrance to the cellar is hidden under that mess,” Quellan translated.  The cleric asked the creature a question.  “He says they keep it hidden, but if you move that clump of roofing there you’ll see it.”

Bredan glanced back to make sure that the others were in a position to cover him, then he sheathed his sword and edged cautiously forward.  The damaged floorboards sagged under his weight but held.  Quellan circled around to the left to help him, careful not to get in the line of fire from Glori or Xeeta.  Kosk remained back by the entrance, his grip keeping the leather strap tight around their prisoner’s neck.

Bredan grabbed hold of the debris the goblin had indicated, a segment of roofing that still clung tenaciously together despite the collapse.  But before he could exert his strength it shifted, seemingly of its own accord.  The young warrior quickly stumbled back, alert to the danger of another collapse.

But the source of the disturbance became clear a moment later as a squat form erupted out from under the rubble.  Bredan turned to face it, but couldn’t react in time to keep whatever it was from latching onto his right ankle.  As it bit down with a crushing grip he stumbled back, only to trip on the uneven floor.  At least the fall tore his leg free of the creature’s grasp.  As it emerged fully from the debris they could see that it was a beetle roughly the size of a wagon wheel, its segmented body culminating in a plated abdomen that reared up behind it as it scuttled forward toward the fallen warrior, intent on securing its meal.


----------



## carborundum

Lying little liar! Brave though...


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Lying little liar! Brave though...



They should've listened to the dwarf!

* * * 

Chapter 50

As his captors were distracted by the beetle, the goblin reached up covertly, using its body to conceal the movement, and slid a tiny knife under the leather strap around its neck.  As Kosk yanked it around the strap parted and it was free.  It darted immediately toward the exit arch, ducking low to avoid any attacks that might come its way.

Unfortunately for it, the dwarf had been expecting such a maneuver, and he too had a knife handy.  The goblin was just a half-step from the cover of the doorway when the monk spun around and buried one of his throwing knives in the back of the fleeing humanoid’s neck.  The goblin’s momentum carried it forward through the doorway, but the thud of impact on the floor reported that it did not get far.

Kosk turned back immediately to help his friends, but it looked like they had the threat well in hand.  Quellan had stepped in to block the beetle’s rush toward Bredan, giving the warrior a chance to regain his footing.  One of the beetle’s eyes was a blackened wreck, suggesting that Xeeta had already joined the fight.  Glori’s first shot had bounced off its armored body, but she was already lining up a second, wary of hitting her friends if she missed again.

The beetle apparently didn’t like the odds, for it abruptly turned back in the direction of the rubble pile it had emerged from.  Quellan took a step toward it, but as it lifted its abdomen the cleric’s eyes widened.  “Take cover!” he warned, putting his own advice into action as he flung himself aside and raised his shield to protect his face.

Kosk reacted just as swiftly, hopping back into the relative cover of the doorway, but unfortunately his companions were unable to react in time.  With a loud popping sound the beetle unleashed a spray of noxious liquid that hissed as it sprayed over Bredan, Glori, and Xeeta.  All three cried out in pain as the stuff burned their eyes and skin.

The beetle spun around again, no doubt ready to take advantage of the confusion it had created to grab a victim.  It started toward Glori, but before it could cover more than a few feet Quellan came at it again from behind.  The half-orc slammed his mace down hard onto its abdomen, filling the room with a loud crack as its carapace shattered.  The beetle let out a high-pitched sound of distress and started to turn around again, either to attack the cleric or to attempt escape.  But it didn’t get a chance to do either before Kosk drove his staff into the gap between its neck and body.  With another loud crack the creature sagged to the floor.  It kept twitching for a few moments, but that was just the delay in its body figuring out that it was dead.

“Ack, that was awful,” Xeeta said.  She took out her waterskin and sprayed water into her eyes to clear them.

“What in the hells was that?” Bredan asked.

“Bombardier beetle,” Quellan said.  “They… they don’t normally get that big.”

“You don’t say,” Bredan said.  He gratefully accepted a clean cloth from Xeeta and used it to wipe off his face.

“Wait… where’s the goblin?” Glori asked.

“It tried to make a break for it,” Kosk said, jerking his thumb toward the outer room.  “It didn’t get far.”

Glori took a quick look to confirm the dwarf’s words, then came back.  “What happened?”

“Little bastard had a hidden knife.  It waited for the bug to attack then cut and ran.”  The dwarf shot a challenging look at both Quellan and Bredan.  “You lot going to start trusting my instincts now?”

“We had to check, even if it was lying about the boy,” Glori said.  “We still do.”

Bredan turned back toward the rubble pile.  “You think it was lying about the trapdoor too?”

“Do you think that even gobbos would be dumb enough to set up shop under something like that?” Kosk asked.  “No, it was full of crap, all of it.”

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  At Kosk’s angry look he quickly added, “Okay you were right not to trust the creature.  But some of what it said was oddly specific.”

“Gakrak,” Xeeta said.  “A not-uncommon name for a bugbear.  And you did suggest that it was unlikely that the goblin was here alone.”

“Maybe there _is_ a cellar, but the entrance is someplace else in the building,” Bredan suggested.

“If so, then they probably heard the fight and know we’re here,” Kosk said.


----------



## Lazybones

I thought I posted ch51 on Wednesday, I guess it didn't go through. I'll post two chapters today so you have a proper weekend cliffhanger. 

* * *

Chapter 51

Bredan started to turn but winced as he put weight on his injured leg.  “Hold on, let me heal you,” Quellan said.

The cleric cast _cure wounds_ spells on Bredan and Xeeta, while Glori used her lyre’s magic to treat her own injuries.  After just a few moments they were ready to set out again and returned to the ruined outer chamber.  Kosk hefted the body of the dead goblin and tossed it behind the ruined sofa after recovering his knife.

The interior door near the foyer arch opened with just a token resistance, the brass hinges lacking the caked rust that had characterized the iron fittings in the barn outside.  It led to a dining room that had been thoroughly looted.  The furnishings had been removed, with only a fragment of what might have once been an impressive table propped up pathetically in a corner.  Ceramic shards of dinnerware and shattered crockery were scattered across the floor.  The decorative wallpaper was covered in ancient stains where it hadn’t rotted away altogether.  A tall shelf just a few feet below the level of the ceiling circled the room, but it looked like any items that had once been stored there were now likely part of the detritus that covered the floor.  The large windows that might have once allowed generous beams of sunlight into the room were now all boarded up, allowing in only slivers of light.

There was another door in the center of the wall to their right that was slightly open.  The most promising feature, however, was a set of stairs that descended along the wall to their left.  The railing that had once protected diners from accidentally stumbling into the stairwell had been almost entirely torn away, leaving just bits of uneven wood sticking up like jagged teeth.  The stairs began on the far side of the room, but as they entered the room Xeeta slipped carefully forward enough to peer down over the edge into the darkness below.

“Door at the bottom,” she reported.  “Could be the cellar.”

“Seems like a good place to check first,” Quellan said.  He started forward, his boots crunching bits of crockery under his considerable weight, but he was still short of the center of the room when they all heard something, a faint skittering sound.  The sound seemed to come from beyond the other door.  It might have just been another rat, but after their earlier encounter they all tensed in response.

Finally Bredan drew his sword started to head in that direction.  But he made almost as much noise as Quellan did, and after a few steps Xeeta made an exasperated sound and gestured for him to stop.  The tiefling crossed the room without any apparent effort, yet her soft boots made hardly a whisper of sound and she somehow didn’t step on or scatter any of the myriad ceramic or glass shards that littered the floor.

Staying close to the wall, Xeeta leaned out and used her rod to prod the door further open.  It let out only a slight creak that went unanswered, and when it was fully open she leaned forward cautiously and looked into the next room.

“Kitchen,” she said.  “Looks clear.”  Without waiting for a response, she went in.

“Wait!” Bredan hissed.  He hurried after her, his progress across the room sounding more like an avalanche compared to her delicate tread.  With any chance for stealth utterly ruined, the others followed.

The kitchen was in almost as bad a condition as the dining room, though there was somewhat less clutter.  Once again it looked like anything of value had been stripped bare, but the embedded sink and a large brick oven, with an iron door caked with rust, remained more or less intact.  Some cupboards along the wall to their right had been thoroughly ransacked, down to having their doors ripped off their hinges in a few cases.  An open arch to their right led back to the foyer, while another interior door in the opposite wall presumably led to yet another part of the house.

Xeeta had already made her way over to the arch.  Confirming that nothing was waiting for them there, she came back over to the others, glancing into the empty cupboards on her way.  “Could have just been a rat,” she said.

“Or it could have been a goblin, or a pack of them,” Kosk reminded them.

“Let’s stay close, and stay alert,” Quellan suggested.  “If there is an ambush, we don’t want to get separated.”

Xeeta inclined her head, acknowledging that the comment had been directed at her.

“So… the cellar?” Glori suggested.

“Shouldn’t we clear the rest of the building first?” Bredan asked.

“Normally would be the best strategy,” Quellan said.  “But in this case the cellar would be the most likely hiding place for any more goblins, and therefore the most likely place we could expect to find the missing boy.”

“If he’s here, I’ll eat my sandals,” Kosk said.

“Let’s just go,” Glori said.  “This place gives me the creeps.”

But once again as they started to turn they heard another noise.  This one was both softer and closer, close enough that they all heard it, a subtle scrape of something moving.

They all turned slowly and scanned the room once more before their eyes all drifted inevitably to the oven.

The oven was of the sort one might expect to find in an inn, large enough to cook a dozen or more loaves of bread simultaneously.  The iron door was just slightly open; the latch that would hold it shut was obviously broken.

Silently the adventurers spread apart and took up positions facing the oven.  Kosk was the closest, and once the others were ready he stepped forward and extended his staff to grab hold of the handle.  The iron ferrule settled on the handle with a soft click.

The door burst open and a furious eruption of legs, hair, and fangs exploded out into the room.


Chapter 52

The companions found themselves confronted by a giant wolf spider, which proved quite irate at the interruption of its rest.

The spider seemed to swell as it emerged from the relatively small opening of the oven door, its legs spreading to catch hold of the brick exterior in anticipation of a springing leap to attack.  Kosk tried to slam the door shut, but the spider overwhelmed him with sheer leverage; after a momentary struggle the door snapped back and slammed against the outside of the oven.

Xeeta let out a sharp squeal and staggered back, her eyes wide.  Flames shot out from both ends of her rod, but it was a raw reaction rather than an actual spell.  Yet it seemed to draw the spider’s attention, and its huge multifaceted eyes fixed on her as it leapt forward.

The tiefling’s face twisted in terror and she sucked in a breath to scream, but she didn’t get the chance.  The arc of the spider’s jump was nearly flat, propelled by its many legs, but before it could reach the tiefling it was intercepted by a descending slab of tempered steel.  All the quickness in the world couldn’t save it from that impact, which drove it to the floor.  It twitched there, Bredan’s sword embedded in its side.  For a moment it looked like it might still somehow get up, but then Glori stepped up and with a look of disgust on her face fired an arrow point-blank into its head.

The spider convulsed once and fell dead.  Xeeta kept staring at it, her eyes wide and her chest heaving, until Glori touched her arm.  The tiefling jumped, causing the bard to quickly hold up her empty hand.  “Hey!  It’s me!  Are you okay?”

Xeeta sucked in a deep breath and nodded.  “Sorry.  Sorry.  It’s just… I don’t like spiders.  I _really_ don’t like spiders.”

“Most people don’t, when they’re this big,” Kosk said.  He peered into the open oven.  The spider’s nest was full of small bones and other debris from its previous victims.  The back of the oven, which extended past the rear wall of the house in order to let it vent safely, had burst open, revealing how the spider had gotten in.  The dwarf prodded at the bones with his staff, but didn’t see anything that looked big enough to have come from a goblin—or a human child.

Bredan pulled his sword clear and carefully wiped it off before stuffing it back into its scabbard.  “Well done,” Quellan said.

“Thanks,” Bredan said.  “Maybe we’re starting to get the hang of this, eh?”

“Let’s see if we all get out of here alive before we start patting ourselves on the back,” Kosk said as he swung the oven door shut.

The companions made their way back through the dining room and carefully descended the stairs.  Kosk took the lead, the dwarf’s impatience making the decision before Quellan had a chance to step in.  The cleric followed right behind him, the half-orc’s hulking frame almost completely filling the narrow breadth of the staircase.  Glori and Xeeta were right behind him, while Bredan brought up the rear this time, his big sword unlimbered and in his hand in case he needed to draw it suddenly and put it to use.

The door at the bottom of the steps opened easily to Kosk’s touch, the hinges creaking a bit in protest.  Behind it was the cellar, a dark chamber that extended for a good twenty-five feet ahead of them.  When nothing stirred immediately out of the darkness Quellan summoned _light_, affixing the spell to his shield.

The cleric’s magic revealed another thoroughly looted chamber.  The racks that were constructed along the walls were mostly intact, though the barrels and crates that they’d once held were almost universally shattered and broken.  The room had a musty scent that wasn’t quite unpleasant, but other than a few small piles of debris in the corners and a couple of mostly-intact barrels in the back there didn’t seem to be anything there that could conceal a threat.

“Looks like he was lying after all,” Glori said as she followed them in.

“There’s something not right here,” Kosk said.

He took a few steps forward, sniffing the air, but a sound drew his attention to the left.  Both he and Quellan raised their weapons, but the disturbance turned out to be just another rat, which emerged from the wreckage of a shattered crate only to quickly skitter behind one of the wall racks.

“I think we can all be excused for feeling a little jumpy…” Quellan began, but as he turned to the others he detected movement out of the corner of his eye.  He turned in time to see one of the barrels in the back of the room shift and then topple forward, revealing a concealed door behind it.

A small horde of goblins poured through the opening and shouted a cry of “Bree-yark!” as they rushed to attack.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 53

Eight goblins emerged from the hidden door, rushing toward the companions with weapons drawn.  Most held hand axes or small swords, but the last two carried bows with readied arrows that they raised as soon as they were through the door, looking for targets.

Quellan cursed and tried to get back to meet the rush, but the creatures were fast, too fast.  The goblins’ unexpected appearance had left Glori and Xeeta exposed; Bredan was just coming into the room, and while he drew his sword it didn’t look like he’d be able to stop them before the ambushers got to their friends.

But neither woman retreated.  Glori strummed her lyre, her fingers producing the soft melody of a lullaby.  Both of the archers slumped to the ground, along with the two rear-most of the charging warriors.

The remaining four warriors kept on coming, unaware that the bard’s _sleep_ spell had cut their numbers in half.  But even as Bredan and Quellan rushed forward to meet them Xeeta tucked her rod under her arm and held out her hands toward the goblins, her thumbs touching and fingers outstretched.  Even as the lead goblin closed to striking distance she smiled and spoke a word of power.

A sheet of flames erupted from her hands, extending almost to the back of the room.  All four of the charging goblins—and two of the sleepers—were engulfed in the _burning hands_, which mercilessly seared exposed flesh.  Goblin screams filled the chamber, echoing off the close walls.  Bredan and Quellan drew reflexively back from the flames, though they did not spread past the sorceress and did not persist.  As the spell faded they stepped forward again, but their weapons were no longer needed.

“Damn,” Glori said.

Kosk came around the others and went forward to inspect the fallen goblins.  A few were still on fire, their clothes burning and filling the room with tendrils of smoke.  Quellan unfastened his cloak and hurried to douse the flames before the smoke could make the air in the cellar unbreathable.

Bredan looked at Xeeta.  “That was… impressive,” he said.

“Thank you,” the tiefling replied.

Kosk went over to the archers, who were the only ones of the ambushing party still alive.  He bent and grabbed one by the head.  “Any objections?” he asked.  Quellan looked troubled, but none of them said anything.  Glori looked away as the dwarf snapped the goblin’s neck.

“Maybe we should leave the last one alive…” Bredan suggested, but too late to stop the dwarf from killing the other archer with a blow from his staff.

“There may be more of them,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps guarding the boy, if he is here.”

“And no bugbear,” Glori pointed out.

“If our captive wasn’t lying about that,” Bredan reminded them.

“Only one way to find out,” Kosk said.  “Let’s go.”

He was again the first through the hidden door.  It had been built into one of the racks, clearly designed to conceal whatever lay behind.  It was low enough that only Kosk could pass through without bending down, and it took Quellan a few seconds to negotiate the tight space.  But behind the door was another room almost as big as the first cellar.

The room might have been spacious in dimensions, but at the moment it was full of an awkward clutter.  Quellan’s light revealed an impressive collection of assorted furnishings, obviously relocated here from the house above.  None were in any better shape than the ones they’d already encountered, and most were covered with fresh stains and other messes left by the goblins who’d made this space their lair.  There were also more crates and barrels, these more intact than the ones in the last room but hardly in good condition.  Narrow paths had been arranged haphazardly through the confusion, turning the room into a sort of maze.  On the far side of the room they could just make out a passage that exited near the end of the wall to their right.

The stink of sweat and rotting food filled the air, causing each of them to recoil in turn as they stepped through the door.  This time the room was so obviously full of potential ambushes that Kosk waited for all of them to make it through before he started into the labyrinth.  There were two main paths forward through the heaped junk, and he chose the one on the right that veered closer to the far corridor.

Glori strummed her lyre to summon _dancing lights_ to illuminate the far corners of the room.  But this time she didn’t get a chance to finish her spell.

A huge figure rose up from behind a broken couch along the left wall.  The couch had been arranged, by happenstance or design, away from the denser clutters of furnishings and storage containers, so it hadn’t drawn the adventurers’ attention the way the more ominously large mounds had.  By the time any of them detected the threat the stealthy foe was already launching his first attack.

Glori heard a warning shout from one of her companions, but caught up in the critical moments of the spell she had no chance to react in time.  Then she felt a terrific impact and a massive explosion of pain that shot through her body.  For a moment, everything drifted out of focus.

When she came to again, she was lying in the shattered remnants of an empty barrel.  When she lifted her hand, she saw fresh blood glistening on her fingers.  She tried to lift her other hand, but it was tangled in something.  In dawning horror she realized that the mess was the wreckage of her lyre.

Her terror was complicated by the fact that a massive battle seemed to be going on in front of her, and that her friends seemed to be in just as much trouble as she was.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 54

The goblin taken prisoner by the five adventurers hadn’t been lying about everything; Gakrak was all too real.  Having taken down one enemy in a single hit, the bugbear faced off against the rest of the intruders of his lair without apparent concern for the odds against him.

Perhaps that confidence was because the odds were not as imbalanced as they had first seemed, as Kosk quickly discovered.

Even though the dwarf’s chosen course had taken him away from the bugbear, he was quick to react to the sudden attack.  But as Kosk spun and prepared to vault the awkward heap of chairs and crates that formed the long central divider of the room, a goblin emerged from behind a vanity dresser next to him and stabbed him in the side with a military pick.

When the ambush had sprung Quellan had gotten his shield up, only to realize that the bugbear’s attack was not targeted at him.  When Glori went down he hesitated, but Bredan rushed instinctively to her side.  There wasn’t much the young warrior could do for her since they were out of healing potions, but with Kosk busy with another enemy that meant that the cleric was for the moment the only one standing in the way of the goblins’ ferocious leader.

The half-orc turned back toward the bugbear, and saw that even the brief delay had given it time to vault the couch and produce a second axe, this one a huge weapon equipped with a spike that extended a good foot beyond the end of the blade.

“You would be Gakrak, I presume,” Quellan said.

The creature met his eyes and twisted his lips in a smile of invitation.

The half-orc felt something stir in him in response, an instinctive response to that challenge.  He lifted his shield and mace and charged.  His hip clipped a protruding crate but the impact barely slowed him.  The bugbear adjusted his footing and waited, content to let his foe come to him.

As Quellan came within reach Gakrak lifted his axe to strike.  The cleric raised his shield, but at the last instant the bugbear stepped aside and swept his weapon up from below, coming up under his foe’s guard.  The blade slammed hard into the half-orc’s side, crunching the steel scales that protected his torso and tearing through the flesh and muscle underneath.  Quellan was lifted off his feet from the impact.  He hit the sofa and went over, bouncing off the wall and flipping the damaged piece of furniture over onto him.  He left a gory smear of blood on the wall where he’d hit.  A single boot jutted out from under the edge of the sofa, unmoving.

A bolt of flames shot past the bugbear’s head, narrowly missing before splashing harmlessly against the wall.  Gakrak turned to see Xeeta staring at him with eyes wide with terror.  If he was discomfited at facing a magic-user the giant humanoid didn’t show it; he merely chuckled and said in thickly-accented Common, “Two down.”

Then he started forward toward her.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 55

With a deep growl Kosk tore the pick embedded in his side free and tossed the bloody weapon aside.  The goblin, smiling at its handiwork, drew out a dagger and lunged forward to finish him off.  But the little humanoid didn’t expect the monk’s sudden pivot, or the foot that snapped up and cracked it under the jaw.

The goblin was flung backwards to where it had started, bouncing off the front of the vanity.  The dresser wobbled, then cracked as Kosk slammed his staff down where the goblin’s head had been a moment before.  The creature had obviously decided that this foe was too much for it, for it ducked and dove back into the cover of the piled up furnishings, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared.

Bredan carefully tore away broken bits of wood as he tried to get to Glori.  He could see where the axe had struck, and the blood that was soaking through her vest to stain her tunic.  Her lyre had been shattered by the impact, and one of her hands was tangled up in the broken strings.

“Glori…” he said, trying to think of something to do.

“Bredan!” came a panicked yell from behind him.  That cut through the bard’s haze of pain more than his calling her name had, and the confusion in her eyes cleared as they met his.  “Go!” she yelled, pushing at him with her bloody hand.  “I’m… fine!”

It was clear that she was anything but, but Bredan knew he couldn’t help her until they were out of danger.  He rose up, grasping his sword as he turned.  He saw the enemy at once, a brutish hulk of a monster that was making a surprisingly sinuous approach through the maze of crates.  Off to his right Kosk was fighting a goblin, but Bredan’s attention was fixed entirely on the primary foe.  He recognized its type from the bodies they’d encountered at the shrine of the Eth’barat, but those corpses were nothing like this very alive and very vital foe that was coming forward to face him.  He flashed back to his battle with the half-ogre in the kobold lair, but there at least he’d had the power of a magic potion pulsing through his veins, not to mention room to swing his sword.

But there was no more time to consider tactics; the bugbear was right in front of him.

Bredan came at Gakrak cautiously, wary of the clutter that surrounded them both.  That proved prescient as the giant goblinoid abruptly kicked a loose crate in his direction.  The crate was empty and did little damage as it bounced off Bredan’s left hip, but it left him off-balance for just a moment.  The bugbear exploited its advantage with a speed that belied its size, sweeping the axe around for a killing blow.

But Bredan was fast as well.  He brought his sword up as he dodged, the two steel blades filling the room with a loud ring that echoed off the surrounding walls.  The impact knocked Bredan sideways into a stack of loose barrels that tottered threateningly against his weight.  He managed to pull himself clear before he toppled over with them, a scant instant before his foe’s axe smashed into one and shattered it into kindling.

Xeeta shifted in the narrow space, looking for an opening for her _fire bolt_.  As Bredan was flung aside she raised her rod and summoned her magic, only to lose the spell as a sharp pain exploded in her back.

Biting back a cry of pain, she turned to see that the goblin that Kosk had frightened off had returned.  The creature looked pathetic in a moth-eaten linen shirt that had probably been scavenged, like all of the other junk that filled the room.  But there was nothing pathetic in the silver-edged dagger it carried, already stained with her blood.

Stumbling back to gain space, Xeeta lifted her rod and unleashed a _fire bolt_ from the tip.  But at the last instant she had to dodge as the goblin tried to stab her, and the spell flashed wide past its target.  It was perhaps fortunate that it struck the wall rather than the highly-flammable wooden and cloth furnishings stacked throughout the room, which might have complicated matters for both sides.

Glori finally managed to pull herself up out of the ruins of the crate where she’d fallen.  Still wincing with the pain that shot through her body with each movement, she struggled to unlimber her bow.  Her fingers felt thick and unresponsive as she fumbled for an arrow.

Kosk leapt up onto the heaped chairs and crates that partitioned the room.  The uneven platform wavered under his feet, but he easily maintained his balance as he thrust his staff out at the bugbear.  But the creature ducked back before the iron-tipped end of the staff could connect.  Bredan took advantage of the distraction to regain a stable footing.  He thrust forward with his heavy blade, forcing the bugbear back another step.

A shifting motion behind the bugbear drew their attention just as the upturned couch fell over and Quellan rose up behind it.  The durabaility granted by his orcish heritage had allowed him to barely cling to consciousness even with the terrible wound in his side gushing blood.  Bolstered by a quick _cure wounds_ spell, the cleric had a fire in his eyes as he lifted his mace and charged at the bugbear from behind.  Gakrak heard him coming but couldn’t pivot with two foes facing him from ahead.  But as Quellan slammed him with his mace the bugbear turned with the blow, absorbing what had to be a painful hit while thrusting back with the long haft of his weapon.  The half-orc was struck hard in the gut, and he slumped once more to the floor.  As Quellan struggled to draw in a breath the bugbear lifted his axe to finish him off.

“Die, you bloody bastard!” Kosk yelled.  He jumped onto an adjacent chair, intending to leap onto the bugbear before he could strike down his friend, but even as he landed on it he could feel the rotten wood give way.  The chair disintegrated, as did the empty crates underneath as the dwarf fell heavily onto them.  For a moment Kosk vanished within the wreckage, the curses rising from the collapse telling them he was only temporarily out of the fight.

Gakrak chuckled at the dwarf’s would-be heroics, but shot Bredan a quick glance.  The young warrior raised his sword and charged, but he was too late to stop the big goblinoid from driving his axe down into Quellan’s back, slamming the hapless cleric to the floor.  Bredan yelled and lunged, but the bugbear spun quickly and almost casually knocked his thrust aside with the haft of his axe.

“You next,” Gakrak said to Bredan.

Although she was engaged with her own foe, Xeeta could hear the titanic clashes of her allies against the bugbear and knew that they needed her help.  She thought that her display of magic, inaccurate as it was, would drive the already-injured goblin to seek cover again, but to her surprise the creature sprang forward to attack.  She brought her rod up to try to deflect its lunge, but to her surprise it reached up and grabbed hold of her focus instead of trying to stab her again.  The unexpected maneuver caught her off guard, and the goblin was able to yank the ebony rod free of her grasp after just a quick struggle for possession.

The goblin lifted its prize, a feral look of triumph on its face.  But that triumph faded when Xeeta raised her hand and flames burst from her fingers.

“I don’t need that to burn you, you little idiot,” she said.

Realizing its mistake, the goblin tried to flee, but this time it was too late.

Too late to save Quellan, Bredan pressed his attack against the bugbear.  This time he anticipated Gakrak’s quick evasions, and he was able to score a hit that tore a deep gash in the hides that covered his foe’s left shoulder.  Blood oozed up from the wound, but the bugbear didn’t try to retreat as Bredan drew his weapon up for another strike.  Instead he leapt forward, wrapping the arm on his injured side around the smith’s broad shoulders and dragging them both against the wobbling row of barrels.  The rotten wood sagged but held as the two combatants fought for position.  Unable to use his sword, Bredan focused on staying upright as he tried to keep the weight of the bugbear from pinning him.

Gakrak flinched as an arrow thudded into his side.  Bredan took advantage of the distraction and thrust the fist holding his sword against the side of the bugbear’s face.  He was rewarded with a solid crunch as the impact dislocated his enemy’s jaw.  The goblinoid, now seriously injured, started to withdraw, but even as Bredan pushed himself up he could see the intent in the creature’s eyes.

With blood pouring down his side and his crippled jaw hanging loosely, the bugbear lunged forward at his foe.  There was no room for Bredan to dodge, and no time to get his sword up to absorb the creature’s rush.  Once again he was slammed into the barrel, but this time he went right through it and into the wall behind.  The sheer mass of the bugbear knocked the breath from his lungs, and only the pressure of the creature’s body against his kept him from falling.

He’d either dropped his sword or had it pinned; he couldn’t tell.  His entire right side felt numb.  He lifted his left hand and grabbed hold of the bugbear’s shoulder, intending to push him off.  But he heard a chuckle and looked up to see Gakrak staring down at him.  The creature shifted slightly, just enough for Bredan to see the axe that he was holding in his right hand like a spear.

Bredan heard someone yell his name, but could do nothing to stop the bugbear as he drove the steel point at the end of the axe deep into his body.  The last thing he heard was Gakrak’s voice rasping in his ear.

“Three.”


----------



## Azkorra

Wow, that fight's been a nailbiter from the very start. And yet you torture us with another weekend cliffhanger. Evil lazybones ;-)

Gesendet von meinem GT-I9301I mit Tapatalk


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks for the post, Azkorra. Back in the day my readers gave me the title, "Cliffhanger King," it's good to see I can still pull it off. 

* * * 

Chapter 56

“Bredan!” Glori screamed.

Gakrak reached up and pushed off from the wall.  As he moved Bredan slumped to the floor, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his belly.  It glistened on the spear-point at the end of the huge axe, leaving behind spatters on the floor and the shattered boards of the barrels as its owner shifted ponderously back toward the front of the room.

A rumbling announced the return of Kosk moments before the collapsed rampart of crates and chairs shifted and exploded outward.  The dwarf came out at a run, lunging at the bugbear.  Gakrak turned, moving more slowly now as his wounds took a toll, and took a punishing impact to his left leg just above the knee.  The joint cracked out of alignment as the dwarf’s staff drove into it, and the bugbear let out a hiss of pain.  The creature swept his axe around, though rather feebly compared to the deadly strikes he had unleashed earlier, and Kosk was able to dodge back in time to avoid that questing edge.

Gakrak took a halting step after him, putting most of his weight on his good leg, but Kosk’s retreat didn’t last long.  The dwarf fell back against the damaged crates but used them to push off—more carefully this time—and press his attack once more.  The bugbear lifted his axe to intercept his rush, but before he could try another sweep another arrow slammed into his side.  That was followed barely a heartbeat later by another _fire bolt_ that struck him in the neck, searing his exposed skin and splashing flames over his savaged jaw.

The twin impacts staggered the bugbear and left him vulnerable to Kosk’s assault.  The dwarf opened with his staff, delivering another punishing strike to Gakrak’s damaged knee.  That was too much for the limb, which crumpled.  The bugbear fell awkwardly, and as he flapped his arms in a vain effort to gain purchase on the bloody floor Kosk spun and drove the heel of his foot hard into the foe’s throat.  Gakrak’s angry cries became a thick gurgle as the monstrous combatant slid the rest of the way to the floor.

“One, you bastard,” Kosk spat as the light faded from the bugbear’s eyes.

Glori rushed forward, heedless of any fight that might be left in the dying bugbear as she jumped over their fallen foe and rushed to Bredan’s side.  The young warrior was unconscious, and blood continued to seep from the terrible wound in his belly as she fumbled for bandages in her pack.

“We have to help him… we have to…” she said while she worked.  “Quellan!  I need Quellan!”

Kosk knelt to check the injured cleric, frowning as he sought out the lifebeat in his friend’s throat.  “He’s alive, but unconscious,” he reported.  “I’m glad I didn’t insist on us leaving our packs outside this time,” he added in an undertone.  The blow from the bugbear’s axe had been devastating, but the cleric’s armor and his leather pack had absorbed much of its force.

“But… he has to heal Bredan…” Glori said.

“I’m sorry,” Kosk said.  “We’re out of potions.”

“You have to heal him,” Xeeta said.  Glori blinked and looked up at the tiefling, who’d followed her over and was standing near the remaining barrels.  She was holding a bloody rag against her back, but at the moment she looked better off than the rest of them.

“But I… I can’t, my lyre was destroyed…”

“No,” Xeeta said.  “_You_ have to heal him.”

“But I…”

“He’s dying!” Xeeta said.  As if to punctuate her statement, Bredan’s body shook with a soft gurgling cough.  Blood trickled down from the sides of his mouth and speckled his lips.

“I don’t have any magic…” Glori began, but before she could finish Xeeta knelt and took her hands.  “I haven’t known you very long, but I know a little something about magic.  I don’t know what your mentor told you, but it wasn’t just your instrument, it was _you_, it was always you.  Your magic is in your music, and without your lyre, you have to make it on your own.  You are the only one who can save him, and that’s that.”

The sorceress pulled back and rose to stand over them.  Glori stared up at her for a moment and then turned back to Bredan.  “Please,” she whispered, a prayer to anyone who might be listening, then she began to sing.

The melody came easily, even without her lyre.  The music was a part of her, her voice creating sounds that matched exactly the notes she heard in her mind.  But while the song was potent, haunting, there was no thrum of magic accompanying it.

She kept on singing, digging deeper within herself, holding nothing back.  Tears filled her vision, blurring Bredan’s broken and bleeding form.  She sang until her throat felt raw, and yet still nothing happened.

She had failed.  Xeeta was wrong, she had no magic, had no secret power.  Her best friend was going to die because of that lack, and she would have to live with it.

The song trailed off, and she lowered her heard.

A hand took hold of hers.  She started to resist its grasp, thinking that it was Kosk or Xeeta, trying to pull her away.  That would mean that Bredan was dead, and she wasn’t ready to accept that.

But then a soft rasp of a voice shook her back to full awareness.

“Glori.”

She opened her eyes and blinked away the tears to see Bredan looking up at her.  He still looked horrible, his armor covered in blood, his clothes savagely torn, but he was alive, and he even managed to pull himself up a bit.

She could only stare at him.  “You’re alive.”

“Thanks to you.  You pulled me back, Glori.  I heard the music, and it pulled me back…”

Any response she might have offered was consumed as they enfolded each other in a furious embrace.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 57

While the others rested, Kosk and Xeeta cautiously explored further into the cellar.

Bredan tried to join them, but Kosk ordered him to stay put.  Even with Glori’s healing the smith remained weak, and the dwarf pointed out that in his current condition a runt goblin with a club could knock him again through Death’s door, and this time the bard wouldn’t have a spell to pull him back over.

Glori was hardly in better shape herself, and she remained with Bredan and the unconscious Quellan while the monk and tiefling went looking for the missing Northpiner boy.

Aware that they were hardly unscathed, Kosk and Xeeta began their explorations slowly and cautiously.  After verifying that there were no more threats lingering in the cluttered confines of the goblin lair, they pressed on into the side passage they’d spotted earlier.  Without Bredan there was no need to bring a light that would betray their approach, and without the metal-clad warriors in their midst they made barely a sound as they slipped forward.

The passage turned into a long hallway that clearly extended beyond the foundations of the estate house above them.  The tunnel was packed earth, reinforced by wooden beams and thick planks that supported the ceiling at regular intervals.  After a short distance they passed a small room on their left.  The place was crowded with a massive bed that had been assembled from several smaller pieces of furniture.

“Looks like our friend Gakrak took his rest here,” Xeeta said.

Kosk grunted in agreement as he leaned into the room.  He was greeted by a rich funk that seemed to confirm the tiefling’s assessment.  There was an earthy mustiness under that reek that suggested that place might have once been an herb cellar.  Bits of faded greenery were still visible in the packed dirt of the floor.

There was a chest near the foot of the bed, but Kosk ignored it for the moment, lingering only long enough to confirm that the room was empty before gesturing his companion on.  They continued down the tunnel, which bent slightly to the left and then continued on for a good thirty or forty paces before ending in a door.

“This looks like a fairly recent addition,” Xeeta observed.  “And rather slipshod work.”  She ran a hand along the threshold, which had been hammered into place around several of the support beams that supported the ceiling.  The door hung crooked, with gaps around the edges that were wide enough to squeeze her fingers through without difficulty.  In place of a latch the door was secured with two wedges of wood that had been hammered into the jam.

“They probably took one of the doors from upstairs and installed it down here,” Kosk said.

“Makes you wonder what they were protecting, doesn’t it?” Xeeta asked.

“It could be another way out,” Kosk said.  He pressed his face up against the edge of the door, peering through one of the cracks.  “Light, and fresh air,” he said.

“Shall we see?”

“Get your blasting stick ready, just in case,” the dwarf said.  He waited until the sorceress was in position, then used his staff to free the wedges holding the door shut.  Once those were clear it opened with some reluctance, due to the poor alignment of the hinges, but Kosk got it wide enough to reveal what was beyond.

The tunnel continued for a short distance further before it culminated in a steep slope that rose up to a narrow opening above.  The exit was surrounded by dense bushes that extended into the interior, but they could see a small patch of blue sky through the growth.

“Looks like this was a hidden escape route for the owners of the manor house,” Kosk said.  “Not uncommon in these sorts of isolated settlements.  Probably how the goblins came and went.”

“Avoiding the hazards in the manor,” Xeeta agreed.  “Should we go back?”

“No reason not to,” Kosk said.  “I never thought the kid would be here.”

They retraced their steps, and steeling themselves against the stench of the bugbear’s quarters they went back to the chest they’d bypassed earlier.  It had a hasp lock that was broken and ruined, so they had no difficulty getting at its contents.  Those contents included a heavy wool cloak that looked to be in decent shape, a bag full of biscuits that were the consistency of iron ingots, and a bulging sack.  The sack clinked as Kosk lifted it, which proved promising until he opened it to reveal that it was full of copper coins.

“I guess Gakrak and his little band weren’t very good at banditry,” Xeeta said.

Kosk tied off the sack and looked up at her.  “Don’t give up so easily,” he said.

The dwarf proceeded to tear the room apart.  He poked through all of the bedding before separating the bed into its components, pushing them into the corners of the room.  As he was doing that his foot scraped on something that drew his attention.  The source turned out to be a loose stone that he pried up with one of Xeeta’s daggers to reveal a concealed space below.  There was another chest in that hidden niche, this one banded in iron and with a fully-intact lock securing the front.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” Kosk said.  Grunting with effort, he lifted the chest up out of its cubby.

“Should we force it open?” Xeeta asked.

“That may not be necessary,” Kosk said.  “I think I might have an idea of where we’ll find the key.”

It only took a minute to confirm the dwarf’s theory.  They went back to the cellar annex where they’d left the others and searched the dead bugbear.  At first they didn’t find anything; Gakrak’s pouch was empty except for a sling and a few stones, and there weren’t any pockets in his bloodstained garments.  Xeeta even pulled off his boots to check them, grimacing at the fresh stench that was unleashed.  But Kosk didn’t give up, and finally he found the key on a long throng around the bugbear’s neck, tucked under his armor.

Glori had come over to watch them.  “No sign of the boy?”

“He was never here,” Kosk said.  “The goblin was lying.”

“We found a treasure chest,” Xeeta said.

“Oh?” Glori asked, interested.  But Kosk insisted again that she remain to watch over their injured companions while he and Xeeta went to learn what they had found.

The key fit perfectly in the lock, and the chest opened to reveal a decent haul of loot.  This time there were three sacks, filled with sorted piles of gold, silver, and electrum coins.  Wedged into the back of the chest behind the sacks was a copper plate, which Kosk pronounced to be of little value, but under that was a small wrap of faded leather that from its feel had a few items inside.  The throng holding it shut fell to pieces as the dwarf pulled at it, and he carefully unfolded the wrap to see what it held.

Inside the roll of leather was an ivory statuette, small enough to fit easily in Kosk’s hand.  It had been carved into the shape of an armored knight, with an attention to detail that showed considerable craftsmanship.  The dwarf stared at it for a moment before handing it to Xeeta.

“That’s good work,” she said.  “What’s that there?” she said, looking back over his shoulder.

“Crossbow bolts,” he said, taking two thin shafts out of the wrap.  Their heads were silvered and stamped with runes that looked obviously magical.  “For the boy, assuming he ever gets to use the damned weapon.”  He handed those to Xeeta as well, but before she could examine them the dwarf let out a satisfied sound.

“What?” she asked.

In response he held up two small metal flasks.  Each was marked with a single rune that both adventurers recognized.

“Healing potions?” Xeeta asked.

Kosk gently shook one of the flasks to confirm it was full.  “Aye.  And unless they’re full of poison or something, it means we’ll get out of here sooner rather than later.”


----------



## carborundum

Huzzah! Something good happens!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Huzzah! Something good happens!



Not only that, but we're coming up on a level-up! I'm going to hold off on posting the next set of stat blocks for a while, however, since there are some story spoilers in them. 

* * * 

Chapter 58

Glori lifted her head and pressed a mostly-dry towel to her dripping face and hair.  She glanced down at the washbasin and saw flecks of dirt and dry blood around the rim.  The water that remained was cloudy.  This was the third time she’d washed since they had returned from the estate house and the cellars underneath it, and she still wasn’t clean.  She had a feel that it would be a while before she felt fully clean again, in a way that had nothing to do with dirt.

She looked up and regarded herself in the mirror over the small dresser that held the basin.  The mirror was cheap and blurry, but it was probably for the best that she couldn’t see her own face clearly at that moment.  Her clothes were new; the ones she’d worn to the estate were no longer fit even for rags.  Maybe the villagers would burn them.

“You wanted to be an adventurer,” she said to her reflection.  Her doppelganger didn’t respond, of course, and after a moment she sighed.  She turned to the bed where she’d laid out her gear, but was interrupted by a firm knock on the door.

Her first instinct was to reach for her dagger, sitting on the bed in its scabbard, but she silently berated herself and with an effort of will went to the door.  But she paused with her fingers on the latch-handle.  “Who is it?” she asked.

“Quellan,” came the low rumble through the wooden panel.

She opened the door to find the cleric standing there in the hallway.  He’d taken off his suit of scale armor, but he managed to look imposing even in a simple robe of undyed gray wool.  He was carrying a parcel under one arm, a package that might have been bulky for her but which seemed barely an afterthought for a man of his size.

“Ah… I’m sorry, I wasn’t… do you want something?” she asked.

“Just a moment of your time,” he said.  “May I come in.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”  She stepped back to let him come into the room.  “Sorry for the mess.”

“You should see the room I’m sharing with Kosk,” he said.  He glanced down at her bed.  “You’re keeping that sword?”

She looked down at the longsword that had been the property of Colum, before the giant mantises had done for him on the way to the estate house.  “Yeah.  Figured I could get Bredan to teach me how to use it.  Don’t tell that local noble, okay?  I figured he’d be the sort of guy to ask for it back.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”  He stood there in the center of the small room, suddenly awkward.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” she asked, nodding toward the parcel.

“Oh, this.  It’s yours.”

She started to protest, but then saw what it was when he started to pull away the cloth wrapping it.  Her eyes threatened to fill up, but she angrily blinked them clear.  “How did you…”

“You left it in the pile with all the other extra stuff we brought back from the estate.  I thought you’d want it back.”

She ran her hands over the lyre, her fingers lingering on the curve where the bugbear’s thrown axe had shattered the metal.  It was now fully intact, and he’d somehow even found new strings for it.  Her fingertips traveled reflexively to the strings, and while the instrument was out of tune it was otherwise as if it had never been damaged.

“How?” was all she could manage.

“I took it to the local priest.  He knows the _mending_ spell.  It cannot restore magic items, of course, but…”

That pulled her attention from the restored lyre and she looked up at it.  “The lyre’s not magical.  It never was.”  She turned away and laid it on the bed.

“You haven’t changed since yesterday,” he said.  “Now you know the magic is in you, and not the lyre.  You’re still the person you were before.  The magic doesn’t change that.”

“I know that, intellectually, but I can’t help but _feel_ different.  I don’t know, I guess I’m not making sense right now.”

“Actually, it’s quite understandable,” Quellan said.

She gave him a wry grin.  “Well.  You’ve known that you’ve been a spellcaster for longer than I have.”

“While I can channel the power of my patron, I don’t consider that power to be the feature that defines me,” Quellan said.  “I’d like to think that even without it, I’d be the person I’ve set out to be.”

“I’m sure you would,” she said.  “Anyway, thanks.  For the lyre.  It was a nice gesture.”

“It was my pleasure.  Are you going to come down and join us?  As a priest I’m supposed to be above such things, but I must admit the thought of a hot meal prepared in an actual kitchen is quite appealing.”

“Maybe later,” she said.  “I just need a little time.”

“Of course,” he said.  He turned back to the door, careful not to jostle any of the surrounding furniture in the cramped quarters.

“Quellan?” she asked, causing him to hesitate in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Thanks again.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 59

Bredan tried not to think about the persistent twinges in his belly as he made his way down the stairs.  His wounds had all been healed, but apparently even divine magic could not fully erase the lingering effects of what had been done to him.  But those persistent pains were offset by the feeling of relief at not having the weight of his armor bearing down on him.  He was going to have to talk to the local smith tomorrow about repairing the gaping hole in the front of the armor, but for now he allowed himself an hour’s freedom of not worrying about the next day.

The common room of the inn was busy, but he spotted Kosk at once.  The dwarf sat alone at a table that had a generous breadth of extra space around it.  Bredan could have chalked that up to the monk’s splendid personality, but he thought he sensed something else in the crowd of villagers, a current of wariness and alarm that seemed to pervade the general mood.  He supposed he could not blame them for being worried.  It was one thing to know that you lived in a dangerous world, and another to learn that not one but two bands of hostile enemies had been living less than a day’s walk from your home.

He went over to the bar and asked for a mug of ale.  Several of the locals sent respectful nods his way, but none tried to start a conversation.  He handed over a few coins for the drink and made his way over to the table where the dwarf was seated.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Suit yourself.”

Bredan pulled back a chair and settled into it, ignoring the twist of protest in his gut.  It faded quickly, however, and he was able to relax before he took his first sip of the rich local brew.  “That is nice,” he said.

Kosk didn’t respond.  A mostly-full mug sat next to him on the table.  “Where’s Quellan?” Bredan asked.

“He said he had an errand in town.”

Bredan nodded and settled back comfortably in his chair, focusing on his drink.  The silence stretched out between them, untouched by the low din around them, until finally Kosk’s face twisted up like he’d swallowed something unpleasant and he asked, “How’s your girl?”

“She’s all right,” Bredan said.  “She said… she needed some time alone.  I think what happened… it was hard for her.”

“You know that it’s only going to get rougher in the north,” Kosk said quietly.

“I know,” Bredan said.  “She does, too.  Said as much when I tried to tell her the same thing, when we got back.”

He thought for a moment.  “I don’t regret leaving,” he finally said.  “Everything that’s happened… even our decision to stay here and help these people.”  He glanced around to make sure none of the locals were listening, then leaned forward across the table and added, “Even if we don’t find that missing boy, I think we’ve done something important here.  I feel like… like we’re getting ready for something.  Something important.”  He snorted and leaned back in his chair.  “I guess that probably sounds pretty stupid to you.”

Kosk’s expression was a neutral mask, but after a moment he shook his head.  “No, it doesn’t sound stupid.”

“I suppose you were right before, about us not being ready.  I mean, I almost got myself killed taking on that bugbear.”

“You did all right,” Kosk said.  For a moment it looked like he would say more, then he looked up past Bredan and frowned.  “Bloody hells,” he said.

Bredan turned just in time to see the front door swing open and a familiar figure come into the common room.  From the soft titter that filled the room it was clear that Nordrum’s reputation among the village council extended to the rest of the village as well.

The sage saw them and made a beeline for their table.  “Gentlemen,” he said.  “I heard you got back.  Your companions?”

“Busy,” Kosk said.

“Well, you can impart what I have to say to them.”  Without asking permission he took the last free chair and sat down between them.

“Look, Master Nordrum,” Bredan said.  “If this is about the missing boy…”

“I must be honest with you and say that I do not think that the poor youth is at the old ruin,” the sage said.  “Though I believe that my fears about the site remain justifiable.”

“Hostile magic,” Kosk said.

“Not hostile per se, but certainly dangerous,” Nordrum said.  “Please… I know that you have already made a significant detour from your objective to help the people of this town, but the ruin is not far, it would only take another day, perhaps two, to verify what I say is true.”

“We know something about ancient magic,” Bredan said.  “What is it that’s at this ruin?”

“I am not certain,” the sage said.  At Kosk’s look he quickly added, “Please, I beg you, hear me out.  Yes it is true that the people of Northpine consider me to be touched in the head, obsessed.  You will likely join them in that assessment if I tell you all that I know, how I was drawn to this place.  Maybe I am mad, I don’t know.  But if I am right, then this village may be in danger.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Kosk said.  “Okay, you’re not certain.  But what do you _think_ is there?”

“Power.  Lore of a bygone age.  Writings… inscriptions, engravings, old books centuries old.  Perhaps an artifact, something small, yet potent…”

“A crystal?” Bredan asked.

Nordrum gave him a steely look.  “Perhaps.  Why, do you know…”

“This is the first time we’ve ever heard anything of this place,” Kosk quickly interrupted, as much to forestall Bredan as to answer the sage.  “If this power is so dangerous, how do we know that you can be trusted with it?  Or for that matter, that we won’t simply take it and be on our way?”

Nordrum blinked in surprise.  “I… you wouldn’t do that?  Would you?  As for trust… I know people who understand this power, and can keep it contained.  It would be safe, both to the people here and from those who would use its power for evil.”

“Well, that eases my conscience,” Kosk said dryly.

“Please.  I can pay you for your time,” Nordrum said.  “Even if the ruin is empty, it would be a relief… just to know.”

“Just for reference, how much are we talking about here?” Bredan asked.

Nordrum took another look around and then leaned forward conspiratorially.  “I’ve been here longer than I expected… drew down my resources… but you’re going to Adelar, yes?  I can give you a writ you can cash out at the Mercantile Guild in the city for… five hundred golds?”

Bredan coughed and quickly took a sip of his drink.

“We’ll need to talk it over with our companions,” Kosk said.

“Of course.  You know where to find me, if you need any more information.  Here is a map to the ruin.”  He drew out a tightly folded square of parchment and slid it across the table toward the dwarf.  The sage waited until Kosk had picked it up before he got up and quickly left the way he had come.

“Well,” Bredan said.  “That guy doesn’t seem all there.”

“He remind you of anyone?” Kosk asked.  He held the parchment in his hand, but he didn’t unfold it.

“Who… Starfinder?  She wasn’t like him.”

“Intensely dedicated, even obsessed.  Willing to turn over huge sums to virtual strangers to brave a location they could easily walk to themselves.”

“Well… the shrine of the Eth’barat was dangerous.”

“I expect we’ll find the same if we go hunting this ruin,” Kosk said.

“I know we just found those sacks of coin at the mansion… but five hundred is a lot of gold.  Assuming he was telling the truth about having the money in Adelar.”

“It’s not uncommon in the south for sums to be transferred that way,” Kosk said absently.  “Even up here a man could find himself in a lot of trouble, throwing around the name of the Mercantile Guild without the credit to back it up.”

“So what do you think we should do?” Bredan asked.

Kosk looked down at his mug, and picked it up.  “Like I told the sage.  We need to talk it over with our companions.  But first I think I am going to finish this drink.”


----------



## carborundum

Hints of metaplot, I love it!


----------



## Lazybones

You guys know I love my metaplot. 

* * * 

Chapter 60

The skies were clear as the adventurers made their third excursion into the wild country that surrounded Northpine.  The landscape was familiar by now, low hills covered by fringes of boulders and dry growth, copses of trees that occasionally thickened into more substantial patches of forest, and the omnipresent prickleburrs and thorny weeds that lashed at their leggings as they walked.

This time they had no road or path to follow, and while they rarely encountered obstacles substantial enough to force them to retrace their steps, their progress was slow through the uneven terrain.  But Nordrum’s research had apparently led to a fairly precise identification of the location of their destination, and they had little difficulty following the simple map—accompanied by a complex list of instructions on the back of the parchment sheet—that he’d provided them.

It was a warm day, and fairly quiet save for the occasional rustle of a small creature in the brush and the constant buzzing of insects.  A single raptor hung in the bare blue skies above, seeming to monitor their progress through its territory.

Their surroundings were quiet, but the adventurers kept up a busy chatter as they made their way further from the village.

“So we don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, or even if it exists at all,” Glori said.

“That’s about the sum of it,” Kosk growled, swatting at a bug that persistently buzzed around his face.  He caught the insect and crushed it, but within two steps another had replaced it, and he scowled.

“He seemed legitimately concerned,” Bredan said.

“If there is a dangerous magic here, this close to the village, it is our duty to deal with it,” Quellan said.  “Left untended, minor threats can become major problems.”

“What do you think is there?” Glori asked.  “Another artifact like the stone?”

“Stone?” Xeeta asked.

“Just another job,” Kosk said.

“A paying job,” Glori pointed out.  “You think the sage is good for it, Bredan?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I mean, it seemed like it.  Kosk said that it’s common for folk to use notes of credit in the south.”

“That is true,” Quellan said.  “I have even seen such notes at the monastery in Crosspath, from time to time.”

“Even if this sage is being honest about his finances, it does not explain his motivations,” Xeeta pointed out.  The tiefling had let her magical disguise lapse shortly after they’d left Northpine that morning, but she kept the cowl of her cloak up despite the building warmth of the day, keeping her distinctive features hidden under the concealing fabric.

“We can reserve judgment until we see what, if anything, is to be found at this ruin,” Quellan said.

“I notice you didn’t say anything about the boy,” Glori said.

“The sage admitted that it’s unlikely we’d find him at this place,” Bredan said.

“It may be unlikely,” Quellan admitted.  “But at least we will know that we investigated all of the options before we resumed our journey north.”

“At this rate the war will be over by the time we get there,” Kosk muttered.

Around noon the terrain became rockier, the trees thinning out and the tangles of dry brush becoming stringier and smaller except in deeper gullies where water tended to collect.  That allowed them to improve their pace somewhat, though they remained alert to the landmarks that Nordrum had indicated on his map.  According to the sage they should be able to reach the ruin before nightfall, although unless they found what they were looking for immediately it was likely they’d have to spend the night there.  They’d brought enough extra supplies for several days of camping, just in case.

After a brief pause for rest and a quick lunch they continued on their way.  With the sun beating down on them and few opportunities for shade the day quickly became oppressive even for those not wearing armor, and eventually even Xeeta took off her cloak.  The tiefling looked self-conscious as she carefully folded it and tucked it through the straps of her pack, though they hadn’t seen so much as a single traveler since they’d left Northpine hours before.  They knew they were only a few miles from the road that had brought them to the village, but it felt like they were in a true wilderness, untouched by the busy arts of civilized hands.

They were climbing a low rise cluttered with an assortment of large boulders when Quellan cursed and stopped.

“You okay?” Glori asked.

“Yeah.  It’s my armor.”

Bredan came over and took a look.  All of their gear was starting to look rather ragged.  The dwarven smith in Northpine, Sindrix Strongarm, had done what he could to make quick repairs to Bredan’s mail and Quellan’s scale armor, but both suits needed several days of attention in a well-stocked armorer’s forge.  Bredan said as much as he examined the half-orc’s armor and unpacked his tools.

“We can get our gear tended to more thoroughly in Adelar,” Quellan said.  “They’ll have armorers there.”

“You might want to consider investing in something more substantial,” Bredan said.  “A suit of half-plate would provide much better protection, and won’t be that much heavier or cumbersome if it’s crafted well.”

“That’s all we need, more metal clanking about whenever we move,” Kosk said.

Bredan looked over at him.  “If it stops a spearhead or deflects an arrow, it’s worth it,” he said.  “And we can afford it, what with what we found at the estate, plus what the sage promised.”

“Don’t count your riches just yet,” Kosk said.  “I know that pile of coins seems like a fortune to you, but it won’t go nearly as far in a place like Adelar, especially with a war going on to drive up prices.”

“For someone who claims not to be interested in money, you sure seem to know a lot about it,” Glori said.

Bredan twisted a wire with a set of pliers and gave Quellan’s armor a quick tug.  “All right, I think you’re good for now, but I should take another look at it tonight in camp,” he told the cleric.

“Thank you, Bredan.”

“Can we get moving now?” Kosk asked.  “I’d prefer we find this place before nightfall.”

They resumed their winding course through the field of boulders, with Kosk in the lead and Xeeta bringing up the rear.  “Speaking of riches, do you still have that odd key we found in the shrine?” Bredan asked Glori.

“The jade dagger?” she asked.  “It’s wrapped up in the bottom of my pack.  I haven’t found a place where I could sell it yet.  I was thinking there would be jewel merchants in Adelar who would offer a good price for it.”

“Could be it’s worth a few hundred more golds, maybe?”

“Maybe.  It’s difficult to tell with odd items like that,” Glori said.

“That is true,” Xeeta chimed in from behind them.  “Sometimes there’s a collector who will pay many times an item’s raw value in precious metal or rare gemstone, just because it’s unusual or historically significant.”

“Hmm.  I wonder if the sage would be willing to pay for it,” Bredan said.  “Especially if this ruin and the… the other one are connected.”  He glanced back at Xeeta as he changed what he’d been about to say, but the tiefling didn’t seem concerned at the edit.

“Maybe we should have Kosk appraise it,” Glori said.  “Since he seems so knowledgeable about economic issues.”

Bredan barked a laugh, and Glori joined in.  Even Quellan’s lips twisted into a smile, though he quickly hid it as Kosk turned around.  “In case you lot have forgotten, we’re in the bloody wilderness, not a bloody tavern—”

He trailed off as a deep, guttural sound arose from behind a boulder the size of a cottage directly behind him.  The companions shared a quick look then reached for their weapons.  The noise wasn’t repeated, but it had sounded close, as if whatever it was had been directly on the other side of the massive stone.

Silent now, the companions crept forward to see what was ahead of them.

As they edged around the boulder they could see what looked like a small, temporary camp.  A few nasty-looking furs had been tossed haphazardly among the surrounding rocks, along with a slab of wood that looked oddly out of place until a huge hand reached and grabbed hold of it.

The hand belonged to a massive figure that stepped into view as it rose up out of the shelter of the boulder.  The companions’ jaws dropped as they stared up—and up, for the creature was almost twenty feet tall, with a bulk that caused the ground to shudder underneath them as it shifted its feet.  It was clad in a clout of fur fastened around its hips, with fur leggings protecting its feet and shins.  But its most arresting feature was its face, or more precisely the single eye set in the middle of it that blinked as the giant regarded the adventurers.

“Cyclops!” Quellan hissed.

“Um…” Bredan said.

The cyclops didn’t give him a chance to say more, as it lifted its club menacingly and roared, “Smash you!” before taking a ground-shaking step toward them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 61

For a moment, the adventurers could only stare up at the massive giant in overwhelmed horror.  For all its size the creature moved ponderously, and now that it was in full view they could see that it was injured.  Dried blood covered its arms and torso, and half-healed scars crisscrossed its bare chest.  The broken shaft of an arrow jutted from one bicep, the missile like a tiny sliver against its bulk.

But wounded or no, the cyclops was still a dangerous foe.  As it took one more slow step toward them both Kosk and Bredan stepped forward, the dwarf spinning his staff, the smith unfastening his baldric with trembling fingers.  But before either could launch themselves at the giant Quellan grabbed hold of both of them.

“We cannot defeat this foe!  Run!”

Kosk shook off the half-orc’s grasp, but the delay had given Glori an opportunity to walk past all of them toward the creature.  “Glori, no!” Bredan yelled.

Glori did not stop or look back.  The cyclops looked down at her, the bard seeming pathetically frail in contrast to the giant.  But before it could decide whether to stomp her or smash her with its club she took up her lyre and began strumming a melody upon it.

The music filled the air.  The cyclops blinked, and the warriors likewise hesitated, wary of the danger but unwilling to jeopardize whatever it was that their companion was trying to do.  Xeeta had already begun to retreat even before Quellan’s shouted warning, but she lingered about twenty steps away, her rod clutched tightly in her hands.

Glori continued to play.  The cyclops shifted in a way that was menacing simply due to its size, but it did not attack.

Without stopping her playing Glori said, “No smash.  Sit down.”

The giant blinked at her again, but looked confused until Glori nodded toward the adjacent boulder and made a sitting motion.  To her companions’ surprise the cyclops turned and sat down.  The boulder was just a bit too large for it to use it as a chair, but it settled its weight against it, lowering its club to rest at its side.

Glori looked over at Quellan and gestured with her head for him to come to her.  Moving slowly, careful not to make any threatening moves, the cleric did so.  The others remained where they were, but kept a ready grasp on their weapons.

“I’m keeping it calm, but I don’t think it speaks much Common,” she whispered to the cleric.

Quellan nodded.  He looked up at the giant and spoke to it a deep, gravelly tongue.
After a moment, the cyclops responded.

Bredan sidled closer to Quellan, careful of doing anything that could disturb Glori’s hold over the creature.  But the bard kept on playing softly, and the cyclops seemed, for the moment, to be quiescent.  “What did it say?” he asked quietly.

“I asked him what happened, how he got injured,” Quellan said.  “He said it was orcs.  Many orcs.”

“Ah, that could explain why it reacted with so much hostility on seeing us,” Xeeta observed.  Bredan started slightly; he hadn’t heard her approach.

“Don’t think for a second that this beastie wouldn’t stomp us all in a second if it got the chance,” Kosk muttered.  “Giants will kill just for the sake of killing.”

“Where did this happen?” Glori asked.  Bredan looked up at the cyclops in alarm, but apparently the bard could speak without disrupting her spell.

Quellan passed the question on to the cyclops in the Giant language, and after a moment it answered in a long rumbling line of syllables that sounded like a rockslide in progress.  Finally the cleric turned to them and said, “He was at the ruin.”

“Big surprise,” Kosk said.

“Was that its lair?  Did the orcs drive it off?” Bredan asked.  “And how many is ‘many’?”

“You’re assuming this thing can count past five,” Kosk said.

“I got the impression that Corbrus is a wanderer,” Quellan said.  “He is not from this region originally, but from the north.”

“A refugee of sorts, perhaps,” Xeeta said.

Kosk snorted, but did it quietly.  “A deadly dangerous one.  You may be on a first-name basis with the thing, but don’t think we’re all friends just because our girl’s got the pebble that serves as its brain ensnared in her magic.”

The giant rumbled something else, and Quellan answered.  “He asked what we are doing here,” he said.

“Don’t tell him about Northpine,” Bredan hissed.

“He’s not an idiot,” Kosk hissed.

Quellan continued to speak.  After he finished he said to the others, “I told him that we are hunting the orcs, who attacked some of our people far away from here.”

“Will he believe that?” Bredan whispered.

“Giants aren’t generally known for their sharp wits,” Kosk returned.

“Um, I think we shouldn’t stay here any longer than we have to,” Glori said.

“She’s right,” Xeeta said.  “This situation is not stable.”

“We can’t let it wander around and possibly make its way to Northpine,” Bredan said.

“I agree,” Quellan said.  “Glori, can you direct him to head a different way, away from the village?”

“Not without casting another spell, and that will end this one,” she said.  “And there’s no guarantee the new one will work.”

“Right,” Kosk said.  “We take it out, then.”

“How?” Bredan asked.  “I can’t even reach higher than its legs.”

“Then you chop it down, and stab it when it falls,” Kosk said.

“Um… how good is its hearing, do you think?” Xeeta asked.

They all looked up at the cyclops, but it didn’t seem to be interested in their mutterings.  But neither did it seem all that discomfited by its wounds.

“It’s too dangerous,” Quellan said.  “Even with surprise, I’m not sure we could defeat this foe, at least before he could kill one of us.”

“Then we just leave it be, and hope it doesn’t head the way we came?” Bredan asked.

“Let me try talking to him,” Quellan said.

They stood back while the cleric addressed the creature in its language.  The giant responded a few times, but mostly listened as Quellan spoke to it at length.  Finally the cleric drew back and gestured for them to follow him as he backed off and then led them away roughly in the direction they’d been originally traveling.  The companions kept on looking back, in particular Bredan, but the cyclops merely remained leaning against the boulder until they went around the curve of the next hill and it disappeared behind them.

“Wow,” Bredan said once they were clear.  “That was impressive, Glori.  I didn’t know you could do that.”

The bard stretched the fingers of her strumming hand and put her pick away.  “I didn’t either, actually.  I started playing the song that lets me charm animals… and I was able to, I don’t know, change it somehow.  It was mostly luck, I think.”

“Your power is growing,” Xeeta said.

“What did you say to it?” Kosk asked the cleric.

“I told him that if it sees the rest of our army, to please point them in the way we went.”

The others all looked at Quellan for a long moment, then Glori laughed.  “Deception, from you?” she said.  “Now _I’m_ the one who’s impressed.”

Quellan couldn’t blush, but he clearly was embarrassed at the comment.

“It may not believe you, or it may not care,” Kosk reminded them.

“All the more reason to finish our mission quickly and get back to Northpine, so we can warn them,” Quellan said.

“At least now we know where those orcs that the elven scouts were looking for ended up,” Glori said.

“First kobolds, then goblins, and now orcs,” Kosk said.  “This bloody village is either the unluckiest place in the kingdom, or it’s cursed.”

“It may be that the conflict in the north is driving more humanoids into King Dangren’s lands,” Xeeta said.  “This could be just the beginning of a disturbing trend.”

“We still don’t know how many orcs are waiting for us at this ruin,” Bredan said.  “Or how fortified the place is.”

“It’s a ruin,” Kosk said.  “From what the sage said, a very old one.  There may be some stone walls left intact, but it will hardly be a fortress.  As for the numbers, we know from the elves that there weren’t that many left after they ran them off from their forest up north.  We can handle a few orcs.”

“Corbrus couldn’t,” Glori said.

That killed the conversation for a lengthy interval.  Finally Quellan said, “At least we know what we’re getting into this time.”

“Let’s hope we don’t get in over our heads,” Bredan said.

“We won’t, if we shut up and pay attention to where we’re going,” Kosk said.

They took his advice and continued in silence, moving steadily deeper into the hills.  High above them, the solitary hawk continued tracing lonely circles in the empty sky.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 62

“I don’t see any sentries,” Glori said.

“They’re there,” Kosk said.  “Orcs aren’t the brightest, but they’re not that stupid.”

Glori sent a quick look at Quellan, but the half-orc acted as if he hadn’t heard the comment, staring at the ruin ahead of them with an intent look on his face.

Bredan shifted and stifled a sneeze.  What came out was barely louder than their whispered conversation, but all of his companions shot him an alarmed look.  With an apologetic look the smith drew back deeper into the cover of the fringe of weeds that protected their hilltop vantage.

“Let’s pull back before we do something to let them know we’re here,” Kosk said.

The companions carefully crept backwards until they were well behind the crest of the hill, then they carefully made their way back to the shelter of the copse of trees at its base.  With the forewarning from the cyclops they had approached the ruin carefully, remaining in cover until they could locate a spot from which they could observe the site covertly.

The ruin was situated atop a low rise that was studded with boulders.  There wasn’t much left, just a few crumbling walls and irregular foundations.  On the northern end of the site, just beyond the ruins, there was a thirty-foot cliff that ascended to a truncated bluff overlooking the entire area.  It looked like there might be the remains of another structure up there, but it also could have just been a natural feature.  It would be impossible to tell for sure without getting closer.

What they could see were plenty of places where a watching orc could be hiding.

“I think we should approach from the east,” Kosk said as soon as they were under the cover of the trees.  “There’s more cover that way and we can be on them quickly.”

“Perhaps we should not rush headlong into an unknown danger,” Xeeta said.

“It’s not unknown, we know they’re there,” Kosk said.

“But we do not know exactly where they are, or how many there are, or what traps or ambushes they have laid,” the tiefling explained patiently.  “Let me scout ahead first.”

“You can scout?” Bredan asked.

“I have some small talent at avoiding notice,” she said.

“That’s something that will come in useful in this group,” Glori said.

Kosk looked doubtful.  He didn’t say anything, but his feelings were clearly written on his face.  Finally Xeeta sighed and said, “If it is still a matter of trust, after what we have been through together…”

“I trust you, Xeeta,” Quellan said.  “See what you can find, but be careful.”

“Yeah, if you get into trouble, just yell and we’ll come running,” Bredan said.

The tiefling smirked at him, then slipped out of her pack.  She put her folded cloak onto it, then slipped out of her tunic, leaving just a light undershirt that highlighted the curves of her form.  The bright red tint to her skin covered her entire body; if she was self-conscious, there was no way of knowing.

“They’ll see you coming from a mile off, girl,” Kosk said.

Xeeta offered him a smile, then held her rod and concentrated for a moment.  As she called her magic her skin began to darken, transforming into a mottled pattern of pale grays and browns that closely matched the dry growth and bare rock of their surroundings.  Even the pale ivory of her horns changed to a tan that fit with her overall camouflage.  Her remaining clothes were already dark enough that they did not spoil the overall effect.

“That is cool,” Glori said.

Xeeta smiled—even her teeth had darkened—then turned and darted off toward the curve of the hillside.  She made barely a sound, and within twenty steps she vanished into the background of the landscape.

“Okay, she’s good,” Glori said.

“It won’t do any good if she steps on a deadfall or tripwire,” Kosk said.

“Should we go back up and watch?” Glori asked.

“It’s unlikely we’d see her, and if we raise any more dust by moving around we might alert our foes,” Quellan pointed out.  “We’re close enough that we’ll hear if she runs into trouble.”

They waited there in silence, the shade provided by the trees offering only partial relief from the hot, dusty air.  Bredan drank deeply from his waterskin and adjusted the fit of his baldric.  Glori tested her bowstring and shifted her lyre so it wouldn’t get tangled up with the strap of her quiver.  They’d already stored their packs in case they had to rush off into a fight, but as the minutes crept on the tension thickened.

“Shouldn’t she be back by now?” Glori finally asked.

“It’s possible that she had to circle all the way around the ruin to find a good approach,” Quellan said, but it was clear from his expression that he too was worried.

Kosk muttered something under his breath.

“What do you think, should we go take a look?” Bredan asked.

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said from directly behind them.

They all spun in time to see Xeeta step forward into full view.  Apparently she’d been able to approach to within five paces completely undetected.  She maintained the mottled camouflage pattern of her spell, but once revealed they could see her easily.

“What did you find?” Glori asked.

“The ruin’s in pretty bad shape,” Xeeta said.  “There’s not much left.  There are two orc sentries in one of the more intact buildings.  They weren’t all that alert, but they’ll almost certainly hear your approach.  One of them has a signal horn.”

“Where are the rest of them?” Bredan asked.

“I didn’t see them, but there’s a cave entrance along the base of those cliffs, directly behind the ruin.  There’s a clear path leading through the weeds to it, and a big heap of trash just outside.  I couldn’t get closer without risking detection, but I’d say they’re very likely inside.”

“So we still don’t know how many we’re facing,” Quellan said.

“That’s why we need a plan,” Kosk said.  “Surprise attack.”

“That would be a welcome change, us being the ones doing the ambushing,” Glori said.

“How close can we get?” Quellan asked.

Xeeta considered before responding.  “Kosk was right about the best cover being to the east.  But the growth thins out considerably once you get to the base of the slope leading up to the ruin.  I’d say a hundred paces, at best.”

“That’s a real long bowshot,” Glori said.  “We’d be lucky to score a hit at that range.”

“We could lure them in,” Bredan said.  “Make them come to us.”

“What if they decide to take cover in the ruins, and shoot back?” Glori asked.

“That won’t be a problem,” Quellan said.  “Orcs move quickly, and they’ll charge on sight.”  He looked troubled, and after a moment Glori reached out and touched his arm.

“We can use that to our advantage, right?” Bredan asked.  “Especially if we can hit them as they come out of the cave.”

“We’ll still need to deal with the sentries,” Kosk said.

“I can deal with them,” Xeeta said.

“You’ll be on the flank, alone,” Kosk said.  “If you get into trouble, we won’t be able to get to you quickly.”

“I can take care of myself,” Xeeta said.  “Unless you still don’t trust me.”

“We’ve seen what you can do,” Quellan said.  “It’s just that we want to make sure we all get out of this alive.”

“Yeah, especially after last time,” Bredan said.  When the others all turned and looked at him, he blinked and said, “What?”

“It’s a decent plan,” Kosk said.  “All right,” he said to Xeeta.  “Give us some time to get into position, then we’ll wait for your signal.”

“How will we know when you’re ready?” Bredan asked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll know,” Xeeta said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 63

Xeeta felt a ball of tension growing in her belly as she made her way up to the ruin for the second time.  She wasn’t worried—that worried—about the orcs.  She had never faced one in battle, but she knew enough about them not to underestimate them.  She had enough confidence in her own abilities to be able to deal with the two sentries, and enough faith in her new friends to believe they could handle the rest of the fugitive band hiding in the cave.

What concerned her was the energy she felt building in her blood.

The Demon was stirring.

It woke any time she used her magic frequently.  It was unpredictable, and dangerous to both her and those around her, her Demon.  She had lived with it ever since her magical talents had begun to surface when she was a child.  It was a part of her, not something she could ever escape.  The only solution she’d found was to avoid using magic entirely.  That was an imperfect solution that had worked for a time.  But being what she was, alone in a dangerous world, the denial of such an integral part of herself was not something she could long embrace.

And now she was here, once again in danger.  Not alone, but she could not shake the reality that the closer she got to her new companions, the more likely they were to suffer from the secret she could not share with them.

She realized that her distraction was placing her at risk, and with an effort of will focused again on her surroundings.  She was near the summit of the rise, on the outer edge of the ruin.  She could see the cliffs ahead, and in the foreground the imperfect outline of the structure where the orc sentries were stationed.  _Had been_ stationed, she reminded herself.  It would be foolish to assume that nothing had changed since her last visit.  For all she knew there could be more orcs there now, a new shift arriving to spell the guards.  Or maybe she hadn’t been as stealthy as she’d thought, and even now there were hidden eyes marking her every step.

That thought had her pausing again, and she had to berate herself mentally to resume her slow approach.  She knew that her new spell of transformation—superior in most ways to the mere illusion she’d used before, though unable to affect her clothing—was almost spent, and while she could refresh it with a thought, it would deplete magic that she would almost certainly need in the coming battle.  The orc guards hadn’t been paying attention earlier, but if one of them happened to get up and look around the spell might make the difference between being detected and remaining hidden.

She shifted her approach slightly to give her a view of the eastern side of the hill.  She couldn’t see her companions, but she could guess at where they were.  A shallow gully ran along the base of the rise, likely created by the rains that doused the region each spring.  At the moment it was dry and choked with brown stalks that were easily tall enough to conceal a band of assorted adventurers.

She briefly debated trying to signal them, but decided against it.  They would know soon enough when she acted.

Keeping low, she crept around to the rear of the ruined structure.  The remaining walls ranged from low enough to step over to about five feet high, with enough gaps that they didn’t provide any real security against anything trying to get inside.  But what remained was solid enough to offer decent cover.  The foundation, cracked with weeds, was a square roughly thirty feet on a side, but there wasn’t enough left to indicate what the place had been or what purpose it had served when intact.  Maybe it had been a military outpost back in the day of the defunct Mai’i, or maybe it went back even further, to the days of the old empires that predated the current human civilization that dominated the continent.

She realized she was stalling again in her musings about history, and after taking a steadying breath she carefully eased forward to the nearest of the gaps in the outer wall.

The orcs were exactly as she had left them, leaning redolently against one of the inner walls of the ruined structure.  From their location they could have held a commanding vantage of both the southern and eastern approaches to the ruins, and a protected firing position from which to use the two crossbows propped up against the wall a few steps away.  The orcs were awake and talking quietly; as she looked in one let out a deep guffaw in response to something his companion had said.  They wore suits of armor crafted out of animal hides and scraps of metal that looked ragged and dirty even by what she assumed to be orc standards.  From what the others had said, these orcs were the remnants of a tribe that had tried to raid the elven settlements in the forest beyond these hills to the north.  One of the pair had a fresh bandage wound around its right arm, likely a wound suffered in the recent clash with the cyclops.  Hopefully the giant had killed a bunch of them; it would make their job easier.

For what she had in mind she would have to get closer.  Careful of where she placed her feet, she crept into the interior of the ruined building.  There were loose bits of stone everywhere, and plenty of cracks deep enough to snag a boot, but she managed to cross to the far side of what might have been a small bedroom or sitting room.  All that was left now was a small stone basin that protruded from the waist-high interior wall, carved with half of a face that was so worn down that it could have been almost anything.

She slowly lifted her head over the crumbling top of the wall.  The orcs still hadn’t moved.  One had taken something out of his belt pouch and was gnawing at it.  The other perked up, interested.  He growled something, obviously asking if his friend had brought enough to share.

Xeeta didn’t wait for the sentry to respond.  Rearing up, she extended her arms over the wall, touching her thumbs together as she drew upon her magic.  The movement drew the attention of the orcs, but they barely had time to register that they were not alone before a rush of flames seared into them.

As usual the unleashing of her magic for a moment obliterated all else but the glorious surge of power through her blood.  But she was used to that, used to immediately pulling back from that wave of sensation to evaluate the results of her casting.

What she saw in this case seemed pretty gratifying; both orcs were down, their filthy garments coated in soot, their mottled hides blackened and crackling.  But while the first stayed down, the second stumbled to his feet, letting out a sharp squeal of pain but clearly not so injured that he couldn’t fix his eyes on her.  Through the vagaries of luck he happened to be the one carrying the horn, and while the device had been singed it looked like it might be functional enough to sound a warning.

Xeeta reached again for her magic, intending to finish off the wounded guard with a _fire bolt_.  But before she could begin the spell she felt a rolling surge of power building of its own accord within her.  It was the Demon, coming in response to her _burning hands_ spell, seeking freedom.  She tried to hold it back, but the wild magic would not be contained.

She screamed as fire exploded out from her in every direction.  The _fireball_ enveloped her, searing her as she had seared the orcs, blinding and deafening her with the ferocity of the blast.


----------



## carborundum

You'll know it when you...hear it.


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> You'll know it when you...hear it.



At first glance I wasn't very enthused about the Wild Magic sorcerer path in 5e, but after reviewing the surge effects chart I found a number of interesting narrative options to use in the story.

* * * 

Chapter 64

Bredan, Quellan, Kosk, and Glori crouched behind the dense growth that cluttered the gully at the base of the hill, staring through the tall stalks at the ruin above.  True to Xeeta’s word they’d managed to creep to within a hundred paces or so of their destination, but that remaining distance, a minute’s casual walk under normal circumstances, seemed much greater from their current perspective.

A bright flash appeared momentarily from the partially-intact structure in the center of the ruins, followed by a pulse of black smoke that thinned into nothingness as it rose into the air.

“That’s the signal!” Bredan said.  He started to rise, only to feel Kosk’s heavy hand on his arm.  “Hold a second,” the dwarf said.

“She might need our help…” the smith began.

“Hold,” Kosk repeated.  “If the rest of them didn’t see that, then we might…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as a massive explosion erupted atop the hill, centered on the ruined building where the sentries had been stationed.  This time there was no doubting whatsoever that the orcs would hear, as the loud rumble that echoed off the cliffs continued well after the ringing in their ears from the initial blast had faded.

“Oh, man, that can’t be good,” Glori said.

“Xeeta…” Bredan said.  He started forward again, and this time made it a few steps up the slope before a shouted warning from Glori shifted his attention.  Glancing back he saw her pointing to the cliff, and followed her finger to see what she had seen.

Even at a distance there was no mistaking them; the protruding snouts and piggish features were too distinctive.  There were six of them, the orcs spreading out as they warily approached the ruin where a cloud of smoke continued to rise from the impact point of the _fireball_.

“Um… should we get their attention?” Glori asked.

“We have to keep them from converging on Xeeta,” Quellan said.  He didn’t have a missile weapon, so he had to hold his mace and wait.

Kosk came forward and thrust Bredan’s crossbow into his hands.  “Shoot the bastards!” he yelled.

Glori’s first shot was already on its way, and as the orcs turned toward them the first staggered as her arrow embedded in his side.  But just as Quellan had predicted the orcs didn’t hesitate, lifting their spears as one and with a loud roar charging down the hill toward them, the injured one only a pace behind the others.

“Damn, they’re fast,” Bredan said as he lifted his crossbow, took aim, and fired.  At first the shot looked true, but at the last moment the orc stepped aside and the bolt flashed past him.  Glori’s second arrow embedded in another orc’s coat, but it was impossible to tell if it penetrated; in any case the orc kept on coming.  She shifted to the side, moving away from the others, and for a moment Bredan hesitated, before Kosk gave him a shove and gestured to his empty bow.  “Keep shooting!” the dwarf ordered.

But it was becoming clear that the orcs would be on them in moments.  Kosk and Quellan stepped forward to confront the rush, their weapons at the ready.  The dwarf drew one of his knives and hurled it in a flat arc that caught one of the orcs in the meat of his thigh.  The orc warrior missed a step but recovered quickly and pointed his spear at the monk in promise, growing a challenge in his guttural tongue.

“More of them!” Glori warned.  Her companions tore their eyes from the rapidly-closing orcs to see that another group of the creatures had emerged from the cave mouth above.  Those three were noticeably larger than the others.  Two carried massive bill-hooks, while the third wielded a nasty-looking flanged mace.  They quickly moved to follow their companions into the fight, rushing toward the intruders in a steady lope.

But before the reinforcements could join their brethren they were interrupted by an attack from the interior of the watchstation.  A barrage of _scorching rays_ lanced out at them from the cover of the ruin.  The first two rays hit the orcs armed with bills, but the one with the mace ducked under the last, the flames splashing harmlessly against the cliff behind him.  All three orcs immediately converged on the figure that emerged from the ruin, the slight breeze rustling her charred garments and lifting bits of soot from her skin.  Her spell of camouflage was gone, leaving her skin its normal tinge, as bright as a beacon.

Xeeta’s display of fireworks distracted Bredan, who cursed as his second shot missed wildly.  His target raised his spear and rushed forward across the final interval separating them, yelling a battle-cry in Orcish.  Bredan couldn’t understand the words but definitely got the meaning.  He dropped his bow and unlimbered his sword, tossing the baldric aside as he cleared the blade from its scabbard.  The orc lunged, taking advantage of the superior reach provided by his weapon.  Bredan responded just as his uncle had drilled into him through hour after hour of practice, side-stepping and deflecting the thrust with his sword before pivoting into a sweeping strike.  But the orc too proved experienced, as he anticipated the move and flung himself out of the reach of the huge sword.

Another loud blast echoed across the battlefield, this one much closer; Bredan started before realizing that it was Glori’s _thunderwave_.  He didn’t even get a chance to glance aside to check the result of the spell as the orc rushed at him again.  He could hear Kosk and Quellan fully engaged just a few steps away, fighting multiple foes.  He’d only drawn one opponent, but at the moment that opponent seemed quite capable of demanding his full attention.

This time he didn’t wait for the orc to come to him, but lunged forward into an attack of his own.  The orc, caught off-guard, nevertheless managed to poke at Bredan’s side with his spear.  The head caught on the smith’s armor but still managed to pierce his side.  Bredan clenched his jaw against the pain and slammed his sword down into the orc’s shoulder.  The impact crumpled the thin plate of iron protecting his foe’s body and tore through the layered hides underneath.  Staggering back, the orc dropped briefly to one knee before lunging again at his enemy.  Bredan reacted fluidly, parrying the thrusting spear before driving the point of his sword through the orc’s chest.

Even as the orc fell, this time for good, Bredan’s companions finished off the rest of the initial cohort.  The last one, his torso surrounded by the sparkling radiance of Quellan’s _guiding bolt_, succumbed to a blow from Kosk’s staff that hit so hard that Bredan could hear the bones crunching from five paces away.  Both the cleric and monk bore wounds but they looked to be minor, and Bredan saw with relief that Glori appeared to be unharmed.

But that relief was short-lived as he turned his attention back up the hill, and saw that Xeeta was in serious trouble.

Xeeta had revealed herself on purpose, to draw the second group of orcs to her.  The fact that the orcs had withstood her _scorching rays_ confirmed that these were the band’s leaders, and as tough as they looked.  They spread out to take her from several directions at once, wary of her magic.

They were right to be wary, as she touched her thumbs together and unleashed another _burning hands_.  The orcs dodged back, but one couldn’t escape the wave of fire and fell, screaming as the flames crisped his flesh.  The other two, however, surged ahead, no doubt expecting to take advantage of the lull before she could cast another spell.

They were going to be disappointed, Xeeta thought.  The Demon was in her, and its potency was screaming through her blood.  Drawing deeper upon her reserve of sorcerous power, she fired off yet another spray of fire, a quickened _burning hands_ that tore into the two remaining orcs.  Caught by surprise, both creatures were engulfed by the spell.  The first was overwhelmed and joined his comrade on the ground.  The orc with the mace let out a cry of pain as the fire seared his flesh, but he didn’t retreat or try to seek cover.  The creature, a huge, hideous orc with one broken tusk, didn’t hesitate.  He leapt forward, his mace sweeping around with a force that would not be denied.  Xeeta had protected herself with _mage armor_ before they had arrived at the ruin, but the spell was not enough to stop the mace as it slammed heavily into her chest.  The impact lifted her off her feet, and for a moment all she could see was the vast arc of the sky before she hit the ground.  Pain filled her vision with a red haze that blinded her for a moment.

When it cleared, she saw the orc standing directly above her, his mace already raised to finish her off.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 65

Xeeta felt a cold fear clutch in her belly at the sight of the orc warrior standing over her, his mace raised to crush her skull.  But before the creature could strike the feeling was replaced by a sudden, furious rage.  It burned away the terror with its intensity, and with it came her magic, the full power of the Demon awakened by her brush with death.

“Burn,” she said.

And the orc burned.

Flames erupted around the warrior, enfolding him in a deadly wreath of magic.  The orc tried to escape, to turn away from his fate, but Xeeta’s _hellish rebuke_ clung to him, searing him until with one final staggering step he collapsed.  The mace that had been about to crush the life from her body fell harmlessly to the ground.

Xeeta sucked in a breath and regretted it as pain exploded throughout her torso, scouring away the anger and everything else.  She decided not to try to get up, which probably proved wise as a soft cough a moment later awakened new spasms of agony.

“Xeeta!  Xeeta, are you okay?”

She turned her head—slowly, slightly—so she could see Bredan and the others rushing toward her.  She saw the look in the boy’s eyes as he took in the scene, took in the destruction and death she’d unleashed.  But she also saw concern as he knelt next to her.  He was wounded himself, a red stain spreading under his mail.

“Don’t try to move her, boy,” Kosk said.  “Wait for the healers.”

Quellan appeared a moment later, kneeling carefully beside her.  “Where were you hurt?” he asked.

“Ribs,” she managed, though even that took an incredible effort.  It felt like several sharp knives were piercing her body, but a moment later the cleric’s magic entered her body and the pain evaporated.  She let out a relieved sigh, but remained where she was until the _cure wounds_ spell took its full effect.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better,” Xeeta said.  “Bredan, help me up?”

The boy offered a hand at once, and while she still felt a little unsteady, she was able to stand unassisted.  “Thanks.”

“What happened?” Bredan asked.

“I had to stop them,” Xeeta said.

“That explosion of yours alerted them sure enough,” Kosk said.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard that back at the village.”

“It… they were… my magic, sometimes it sort of… exceeds my expectations.”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow at that, but Bredan just nodded at the fallen orc and said, “Yeah, it looks like that guy found that out.”

Glori had moved over to the dead leader, and picked up his mace.  “This looks unusual,” she said.  The weapon was made of a dark metal that shone dully in the bright sunlight.  “Better than the rest of their gear, anyway.”

Quellan turned from delivering a second _cure wounds_ to Bredan to examine the weapon.  “May I?”  Accepting the mace from Glori, he gave it a few experimental swings.  “It could be magical,” he said.

“Keep it,” Kosk said.  “Nobody else here uses that kind of weapon.  We should check out that cave, make sure there aren’t any more of them skulking about.”

After quickly checking the bodies they made their way into the cave.  The interior was dark, so Quellan paused to enchant his shield with _light_ so that Bredan could see.

Just past the narrow entry the cave widened into a cavern of considerable size.  It was immediately obvious that the orcs had been camping there for some time.  Their bedrolls were noisome heaps of rotting fabric and furs that even Glori with her eye for treasure wanted nothing to do with.  But there was another exit, a passage of clearly-worked stone to their right that extended deeper into the cliff.

Kosk took the lead, though the passage only continued on for about fifteen feet before it opened onto another room.  This one was only a fraction of the size of the outer cavern, and was almost empty save for three more bedrolls spread out around a cleared space in the center of the floor.  It looked as though the passage had continued on at some point, though now it extended for only a few more feet past the room before ending in a complete collapse.  There was another exit in the back of the room, a narrow, low passageway that only Kosk would be able to negotiate without ducking.

“Ugh, what’s that stench,” Bredan said.

“Orc,” Kosk said.

“No, it’s something different,” Bredan insisted, covering his face with his arm as if that could keep the odor at bay.

“Look, money,” Glori said.  She pointed to a few gleaming bits of metal lying on the floor and went to investigate.  In addition to a few silver coins she found a pair of dice made of ivory that she held up for the others to see.  “Looks like we interrupted their game.”

“Back luck for them,” Kosk said.  He’d moved over to the mouth of the cramped passage and sniffed at the air there.  “I think the boy’s right.  Something in here.”

Quellan came over with the light, which revealed that the passage extended for about ten feet before opening into a tiny vault.  They could see the likely source of the smell: a pair of booted feet that turned out to be attached to a very dead man.

The vault was far too small to fit all of them at once, but Glori accompanied Kosk to check out the body.  “Looks like the orcs killed him,” Glori reported.  “I think he might have been a cleric; he’s wearing the sigil of Laesil.”

“Goddess of luck,” Quellan said.  “It seems that his patroness’s favor couldn’t help him here.”  He made a gesture of benediction and turned away, a dark look on his face.

“Whatever he had, the orcs took it,” Kosk said.  He came back to the larger room but Glori lingered behind a moment.

“Should we bury him?” Bredan asked through his arm, still trying to protect himself against the stench.

“That would be a good gesture,” Quellan said.

“Hey, look what I found!” Glori said as she returned with a look of triumph on her face.  She was holding a tightly-wrapped scroll.

“Where did you find that?” Kosk said.  “I searched the body.”

“It was in his boot,” Glori said.

She unrolled the scroll and held it out so they could all see it.  It was immediately recognizable as a map of the ruins.  It didn’t show the interior of the cave, but in addition to the part of the exterior complex they’d explored it showed an additional structure atop the cliffs.  There was an annotation there, “Suspicious hole – should investigate.”

The companions shared a look.  “What do you think?” Bredan asked.

After a moment, Glori said, “I think maybe we should take our unfortunate friend’s advice… and investigate.”


----------



## carborundum

Sweet! Back from holiday to multiple instalments...and "piggish features" on the orcs. Nice!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Sweet! Back from holiday to multiple instalments...and "piggish features" on the orcs. Nice!



Even though orcs have toughened up in recent editions and gone through something of a redesign, I always mentally picture them as like the Gamorrean guards from _Return of the Jedi_, who resembled the porcine guys from the 1e _Monster Manual_.

* * * 

Chapter 66

It took them the better part of an hour to reach the top of the bluff.  The sheer cliffs did not extend all the way around, but the slope was steep even at the more accessible portions and studded with loose rocks that would give way as soon as weight was placed on them.  By the time they finally reached the crest all were scraped and dirty from multiple slides, though none of them had suffered any serious injuries.

“I was thinking about that cleric,” Glori said as she paused to brush prickleburrs out of her hair.  “I wonder why he came here alone.”

“We don’t know that he was alone,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps his companions were driven off by the orcs, or met their fate elsewhere.”

“Doesn’t matter either way,” Kosk said.

“Do you think he was connected in some way to… to that other thing?” Bredan asked.

Xeeta waved a hand.  “This is where you change the subject,” she said.  The tiefling looked as bedraggled as the rest of them, though her ruddy complexion showed less dirt than the paler humans.

Quellan came to a stop.  He looked at each of the others before turning toward the sorceress.  “No, it’s not,” he said.  “Bredan was referring to a job we did together before we set out for Adelar.  It was for a wizard named Starfinder, and it wasn’t that dissimilar from this mission.  She was also looking for a source of ancient magical power, hidden by a cult called the Eth’barat that existed during the waning days of the Mai’i.  Apparently they were all about stockpiling ancient lore in anticipation of the Empire’s fall.”

“Not that it helped them, apparently,” Bredan said.

“And you think that these Eth’barat were involved in this site as well?” Xeeta asked.

“There are some parallels,” Glori said.  “An old ruin way off the beaten track, rumors of mysterious magic.”

“An obsessed scholar with a lot of ready cash looking for a few convenient adventurers to stick their heads on the block,” Kosk added.

“Somehow I don’t see Starfinder and Nordrum as being quite in the same category,” Glori said.

“For all we know they’re best friends,” Bredan said.  “Or maybe he works for her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kosk said.  “We’re here, and it’s getting late.  We should stop wasting time before we end up running into something we can’t handle.”

They made their way back to the side of the bluff that faced out over the ruin.  They found another wrecked structure there, right where the dead priest’s map had indicated it would be.  There wasn’t much left to it at all, just a cracked foundation overgrown with weeds, with stumps at each corner where it looked like tall pillars might have once stood.  There were blocks of weathered stone scattered all over the site, remnants of the building that had once stood here.

“I wonder if there was an earthquake or something that wrecked this place,” Bredan said as they spread out to investigate the site.  They couldn’t see the opening that the cleric’s map mentioned at first glance, but the tall weeds were thick enough to conceal such an entry from a casual examination.

“You would be surprised what the simple passage of time can do,” Quellan said.

“Nature is swift to reclaim her own,” Xeeta said.

Bredan turned to say something to her, but before he got a chance Kosk said, “Over here.”

They followed the dwarf around to the northwest corner of the structure.  The weeds were particularly dense there, but they weren’t enough to mask the dark hole that extended under the overhanging mass of the building’s foundation stones.

Glori stepped forward and bent low over the opening.  She thrust her head so far into the gap that Bredan started to reach for her before he caught himself.  But no monstrous entity erupted from the darkness to seize her, and he reminded himself that she could see in the dark a lot better than he could.  She lingered there a few moments and then drew back.

“Anything?” Quellan asked.

“It goes in pretty far,” she said.  “I heard something, running water I think.  There may be a cave or underground complex underneath all this.”

Xeeta, standing a few paces away from the others, thought she heard something and turned toward the bulk of the ruined structure.  But there was nothing there, just the tall stalks of the weeds shifting slightly in the faint breeze.

“It looks pretty tight,” Bredan said.  “Tough fighting in there.”

“I think it widens after the first bit,” Glori said.

“I’ll go check it out,” Kosk said.  “I’ve spent a lot of time in tight spaces.”

“I can send in my _dancing lights_, see if there’s anything,” Glori said.

“No need,” Kosk said.  He started to hand his staff to her, but then his eyes widened as he saw a wedge-shaped head covered in golden scales emerge from the weeds an arm’s length from Xeeta.  The sorceress seemed completely unaware as the head split open to reveal gaping jaws dominated by two long fangs that glistened as they extended toward her exposed leg.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 67

Kosk threw his staff at the same instant that the snake lunged at Xeeta.

The improvised missile didn’t hit the creature, but the sorceress let out a startled sound and flinched back as the staff shot past her.  The snake’s initial lunge came up short, but it quickly recoiled and tried again.  It looked for an instant that this time it would connect, but its fangs brushed against the invisible barrier of the sorceress’s _mage armor_ and rebounded harmlessly away.

The snake didn’t get another chance, as Xeeta finally realized the nature of the threat and beat a hasty retreat.  She summoned a handful of fire and flung it at the creature as she fled, but the _fire bolt_ was just as ineffective as the snake’s initial attacks.

But by then its attention was taken up by the lumbering bulk of Quellan as the half-orc charged forward.  The snake hissed at him and make a probing move toward his legs, but the cleric quickly shoved his shield down into the uneven ground to form a rampart between them.  The snake looked big enough to launch itself over that barrier, but the creature already appeared to be having second thoughts about the encounter.  It turned from the priest and began to slip back into the dense knot of weeds from which had appeared, but before it could reach the shelter of its nest it was intercepted by a brilliant arc of steel.

Bredan’s sword struck it decisively a hand’s span beneath the dagger-shaped head.  The sword clove through its thick hide like it was parchment, spraying droplets of blood over the ground as its head went flying into the tangled growth.  Its body continued to coil and twist as if searching for its missing end, but within a few moments it uncoiled a final time and fell still.

Glori stepped around it and recovered Kosk’s staff.  “You okay?” she asked Xeeta as the tiefling returned to rejoin them.

“Yeah.  Thanks,” she said to Kosk.

Quellan knelt to examine the remains of the snake.  “Ah.  Giant golden viper.  Highly toxic bite.”

Xeeta shuddered.  “Do you think there are any more of them?”

“Large predators like this tend to be solitary, but there’s no way to be certain,” Quellan said.

“Maybe a whole nest of ‘em down there,” Kosk said.  They all stared into the dark opening for a long moment, then the dwarf shrugged and said, “Let’s go.”

Kosk had no difficulty making his way into the hole; as Glori had predicted it widened once past the tight overhang of the foundation stones.  The others watched—all save Xeeta, who kept a close eye out for more snakes—as he crawled to the back of the cave before dropping out of sight.

“Kosk?” Quellan asked.

“It’s okay, there’s a drop off here, but it’s only about five feet.  There’s a much bigger cave down… ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” Glori asked.

“Bats.  Better step back a moment.”

That was all the warning they got before a wild flutter of wings and high-pitched squeaks announced the arrival of several dozen bats that fluttered up through the cave and into the air.  For a moment they swirled around the companions, but then they were gone.  Glori leaned into the cave mouth, only to jerk back as one last bat flashed past her, squeaking as if protesting the invasion of its home.

“Was that really necessary?” she yelled down to Kosk.

“Better to clear them out then run into them while we’re in a hurry,” Kosk’s voice drifted up to them.  “The cave goes on a ways, but I’ve found the source of the sound you heard.  Better get down here.”

Glori shot a quick look at the others, then knelt and started wriggling into the cave opening.


----------



## carborundum

You do like to end on a cliffhanger


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> You do like to end on a cliffhanger




Come on, whatever went wrong crawling into a tiny cave?

* * * 

Chapter 68

Glori had flashbacks to the tight confines of the kobold tunnels as she shimmied into the narrow opening, but she had no difficulty slipping through even with her bow and lyre.  The same could not be said for Bredan and Quellan.  Even after removing their packs and sliding their weapons in ahead of them the two had to squirm and scrape their way past the overhang.  Quellan got stuck and there was a moment where it looked like he would not be able to join them, but with some prodding from behind by Xeeta he finally popped clear to where Bredan could drag him down to the wider space below.

Kosk helped Glori over the drop to the adjacent cavern where the bats had made their lair.  She was greeted by the stink of their droppings, and her boot squished in something as the dwarf steadied her before turning to help Bredan.

“Eww,” she said.

Quellan had spelled a piece of wire with _light_ to help Bredan, but even without it Glori had no difficulty making out the features of the lower cave.  There wasn’t much to it, just an ovoid bubble in the rock with a low ceiling crusted with bits of bat hair and smears of guano.  The rush of falling water was close, filling the confined space with sound, and she could see that its source had to be a narrow crevice on the far side of the cavern about twenty feet away.  She started to sidle that way before Kosk cautioned her.

“Better wait for the others,” the dwarf said.  Glori had to blink as Bredan appeared, the brightly glowing wire wrapped around the loose baldric that held his sword.  She couldn’t see how he would possibly be able to use the huge weapon in these close quarters, but he’d left the awkward bulk of his crossbow behind and she could understand how he would want to bring more than a knife into these underground tunnels.

Bredan had crawled into the cave head-first, and he fumbled awkwardly over the transition to the lower-tier.  Kosk cursed as he helped the human warrior get straightened out, a sight that Glori might have found entertaining if not for the potential death lurking in every shadow.

Finally Bredan got his feet under him and stumbled forward, almost braining himself on one of the uneven ridges of stone that protruded from the ceiling.  Glori let out an exasperated sigh and took him by the hand, pulling him over to another part of the cavern that was out of the way.

“It’s times like these I envy you your body,” Bredan said.  When Glori raised an eyebrow he quickly stammered, “I mean, that you’re so small.  Not that you’re smaller than you should be.  You’re a perfect size.”

“You should have quit when you were ahead,” Glori said.  “There better be something down here, or Kosk will never let me live it down.”

“If there’s something bad down here, we won’t be getting out in a hurry,” Bredan noted.

“That’s the spirit,” Glori replied, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

With a grunt and a clatter of dirt Quellan appeared atop the ledge.  Bredan went to help him, but the half-orc was able to twist around and drop down with considerably less drama than the smith.  In his wake Xeeta popped through and slid to the floor with something almost approaching grace, reuniting their company.

“I am not looking forward to exiting this place,” Quellan said.

“Well, maybe we’ll run into another demon and we’ll all get killed,” Kosk said.

“Cheerful thought,” Xeeta said.  “There must be a reason the structure above was built on top of this cave,” she continued.  “It seems highly unlikely that the builders would not have been aware of it.”

“The water, most likely,” Quellan said, pointing to the far exit and the constant sound of splashing that filled the cavern.  “There must be a spring or other underground source with enough pressure to lift it up to this level.  Shall we investigate?”

“All right, but let me go first,” Kosk said.  “That way I can help if you want to repeat your impression of a cork in a bottle of wine.”

For a moment it looked like the crevice would put the dwarf’s words to the test, but again after an initial narrow stretch the opening widened into a navigable passage.  Bredan and Quellan had to turn sideways to fit, but they didn’t encounter anything as difficult as the cave mouth.  The passage extended for about twenty feet, the sound of falling water building until it culminated in a ledge that overlooked another large cavern.

This one was several times the size of the cave with the bats.  The source of the sound was a low slit in the wall that poured a constant sheet of water over the lip of the ledge.  It dropped maybe ten feet into a pool in the cavern below.  The light Bredan carried showed that the pool filled most of that space, though there was a narrow shelf of land that extended for maybe a third of the way around its circumference.  They could see that there was another exit down there, a rectangular opening a step above the level of the water, too regular to be a natural feature of the cave.

“Well, well,” Glori said.  “Looks like somebody was down here after all.”

“I can’t tell how deep the water is,” Bredan said.  “It’ll hurt if it’s just a few inches deep.”

“Or if you land on one of those rocks,” Kosk said.  The dwarf pointed out a series of low mounds that protruded from the surface of the pool, crusted white with mineral deposits.

“I’ve got rope, and spikes,” Bredan said.

“Look over there,” Kosk said, pointing to the far end of the ledge on the other side of the rushing stream.  “That wall looks rough enough to climb down, and it’s close enough to that dry spit that we can avoid getting our feet wet.”

“Still a rough trip down if someone slips,” Quellan said.

“Fine,” the dwarf said.  “You stay here and I’ll see if it’s safe.”  Without waiting for a response he trudged through the stream.  The water frothed around his feet, but he didn’t lose his footing and a moment later he was over on the edge of the drop.  “Yeah, this shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“At least let me get the rope…” Quellan began, but the half-orc didn’t get a chance to finish.  As he started to turn around one foot slid into the water, and as the flow caught hold of his boot it slipped out from under him.  Bredan reached for him, but the half-orc’s bulk was already dragging him down, and the smith had to let go before both were pulled over.  Quellan fell face-first into the pool, striking the surface with another violent splash that actually managed to spray his companions above.  The mystery of the pool’s depth was solved as the cleric stumbled up and managed to get his feet back under him, the water rising up to the middle of his chest.

“Is it cold?” Kosk asked.  “It looks cold.”

Quellan shot him a look, then turned to examine his surroundings.  He’d landed roughly in the middle of the pool, about ten feet from the edge of the pool and the other exit.  He started wading in that direction, but after a moment he stopped, looking around him warily.

“What’s wrong?” Glori asked.

“I thought I heard something,” Quellan said.  “Bredan, I’m going to create a new _light_, it’ll make the one you’re holding go out.”

“Okay,” the smith said.

Quellan touched his holy symbol to his shield, which began to glow softly.  It’s _light_ reflected brightly on the rippling surface of the pool, but it didn’t reveal any new threats.  Several of the nearby mineral formations glistened in the magical illumination, as though they were studded with precious jewels.

Since Quellan was looking that way, he noticed when one of those formations shifted slightly.  With a soft crack, a piece of one fell free and dropped into the water.

“Um, did you see that?” Glori asked.

The cleric was already reaching for his mace, but even as he touched the handle of his weapon another of the formations shifted and moved, followed a moment later by a third.  Then, as if responding to some unseen common trigger, all three formations erupted, decades of encrusted minerals falling away to reveal what was underneath.

The source of the disturbance was three humanoid skeletons that rose up out of the water.  Their bones, still glistening with the white encrustations of accumulation from the pool, clacked together as all three of the undead constructions leapt into the pool with bony claws extended toward the solitary cleric.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 69

The skeletons were too close for Quellan to evade their rush, even if he hadn’t been up to his chest in water.  His companions above reached for their weapons, though they were too far away to immediately intervene.

The half-orc let his mace go and grasped hold of his holy symbol.  As he presented it toward the undead creatures it began to glow with a soft white light.  “By the Light… I compel thee!” Quellan cried, and for a moment the light intensified until it was twice as strong as a torch.

The skeletons quailed before that radiance.  Two of them immediately recoiled and fled, heading for the edges of the pool.  The last one hesitated, and for a moment an echoing pulse of reddish light shone within the empty interior of its skull.  Whatever dark necromancy had animated it allowed it to resist the cleric’s divine magic, and it lunged forward again, a claw sweeping around toward his face.

But before it could strike a dark form hurtled down on it from above.  Kosk held his staff pointed down like a spear, and the weighted end drove down into its skull like a sledgehammer.  The dwarf himself followed a moment later, smashing through the skeleton’s body and launching a spray of shattered bones across the surface of the pool.  For a moment Kosk went under, but then he burst up again, sputtering.  “Bloody blasted cultists!” he cursed.

Quellan grabbed hold of his friend and guided them toward the narrow belt of ground on the edge of the pool.  The skeletons had gravitated that way, and as they approached they again tried to flee past them, heading toward the opening in the back wall.  The two adventurers intercepted them, Kosk shattering one’s leg with a blow from his staff while Quellan knocked the second back with his mace.  The damaged skeleton turned back toward the pool, but before it could reenter the water it was blasted with a _fire bolt_ from Xeeta.  The flames didn’t have much effect against the undead thing’s soaked bones, but the impact of it knocked its spine just a bit off-kilter.  The skeleton took a few creaking steps forward and then toppled forward, coming apart even as it hit the water.

Glori had her bow out, but there weren’t any more targets.  “You okay?” she called down.  Bredan likewise had drawn his sword, but on seeing that the dwarf and half-orc had things under control he’d passed on duplicating Kosk’s risky leap.

“Just peachy,” Kosk said.

“Hold on, we’ll come on down,” Glori said, tucking her arrow back into her quiver before slinging her bow across her back.

“Go ahead and secure the rope first,” Quellan said.  “It’ll help when we come back this way.”

Bredan took out his tools and hammered in two spikes, one on their side of the rushing waterfall and the second above the uneven wall that Kosk had indicated as a possible route down.  They all ended up getting wet, but without further threats appearing it was just a question of taking the time and care needed to negotiate the hazard safely.

Once they party had reunited on the shore of the pool, they investigated the opening in the wall.  Kosk had confirmed that it led to a narrow passage that appeared empty, but he’d held off exploring further until they were all together.  Alert to any further traps or guardians, they made their way deeper into the complex.  Quellan respelled Bredan’s scabbard, shifting the _light_ back to him to carry.  The young warrior held the weapon aloft so the light clearly illuminated the stone of the corridor.

It was obvious that this part of the complex had been deliberately worked.  At first the passage was rough-hewn from the stone of the bluff, but as they made their way forward it transitioned to smooth stone blocks that fitted together with barely a gap between them despite the lack of mortar.  The passage ended about twenty feet from the cavern with the pool, with an archway that led into a vaulted chamber.

After tapping the stones of the arch a few times with his staff, Kosk led the way into the room.  The place looked ancient, with a generous layer of dust covering the floor.  Thick stone buttresses built into the walls arced up to support the ceiling twelve feet above.  The ground was packed dirt rather than stone, and gave slightly as they stepped on it.  The air was unsurprisingly damp, and lichens clung to the narrow gaps in the stone blocks of the chamber.

“It looks like maybe somebody already looted this place,” Glori said.  She pointed to a series of niches in the walls, each a few feet deep with a shelf that could have held a small statue or other similar object.  As Bredan came into the room his light revealed that all of them were empty.

“Tread carefully,” Quellan said.  “There may still be active traps.”  He turned to the left, where another archway was completely filled with a collapse that had sprayed rubble into the vault.  He bent and picked up a rock the size of his head.  “This place could be unstable.”

“Another way out over here,” Kosk said.  They all came over to join the dwarf, who indicated an exit partially concealed behind one of the buttresses.  It led to a passage much like the first, narrow but wide enough for all of them, even Quellan, to negotiate without difficulty.

“That was impressive, what you did with those skeletons,” Glori said to Quellan as Kosk did his usual check before starting into the new corridor.  “I’ve heard about the power of priests to turn undead, of course, but I’ve never actually seen it done in person.”

“It is a potent gift from the gods,” Quellan said.  “Unfortunately I cannot channel that power again until I have rested.”

“Maybe you won’t have to use it again, if you pay attention to what you’re doing,” Kosk grumbled from the passage.  “There’s another room up here.”

After sharing a look Quellan and Glori followed him into the passage, followed by Bredan with Xeeta again bringing up the rear.  The tiefling gave the arch a wary look, as if expecting a deadly trap to be triggered at any moment.

With his shield held tightly to his body to keep its iron rim from scraping on the walls, Quellan shuffled forward to where Kosk was kneeling at the end of the passage.  Once more there was another arch, and a chamber that from their vantage looked similar to the one that they’d just left.  The dwarf glanced up as the half-orc came forward, but didn’t move forward.

“What’s the matter?” Quellan asked.

Kosk shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Something’s not right.”

“Maybe we can have Glori scout it out using her _dancing lights_,” Quellan suggested, but Kosk was already leaning forward through the arch, carefully looking left and right to see if there was something waiting in ambush.  The room was clear, but as he shifted his weight the stone block he’d stepped on settled with a soft and ominous click.

Kosk barely had time to register the sound before a massive stone block plummeted down from the ceiling, directly toward his exposed and unprotected head.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 70

Kosk had been expecting trouble, but he hadn’t expected it to come from above.  He tensed, ready to spring, but the stone block fell faster than even he could react.

But a scant instant before impact the dwarf was jerked roughly back.  The stone slammed hard into the floor and balanced there for a moment before it tottered over, dropping into the room with another loud crash.  It was almost large enough to fill the archway, and had to weigh at least a thousand points.

Kosk remained quiet in Quellan’s grasp for a moment, both of them staring at the results of the trap.

“That would have squished me like a bug,” the dwarf finally said.

“Aye,” Quellan said.

“What’s happening?” Bredan asked.  “What was that noise?”

Quellan let go of Kosk’s robe and the dwarf quickly straightened, adjusting the garment.  “We’re all okay,” the cleric said over his shoulder.  “There was another trap.”

“Yeah, just another bloody trap,” Kosk said.  He stepped forward onto the block, using it as a platform to edge cautiously into the chamber.

The room was vaulted like the last, and likewise had niches in the walls.  But these were long and narrow, forming depressions almost large enough to hold a person.  Those horizontal slits were stacked several high, and most of them were bricked up, the mortar that had once sealed them crumbling from age and the dampness that suffused the complex.  The ones that were open were dark slits that were deep enough to be ominous in what they might have concealed.

Quellan and Glori stepped to the sides as they passed through the arch, letting Bredan’s light spill into the chamber.  It revealed that the place was roughly twenty feet long, culminating in a slightly raised platform dominated by a stone altar or table.  The platform extended into a deep alcove that formed a rough hemisphere, a geometric oddity against the more regular lines of the rest of the complex.

Kosk stepped forward off the fallen slab.  His sandals made a soft squelching sound as they sank slightly into floor; like the outer vault the floor was packed dirt.

“This place… it feels… dark,” Glori said with a shudder.

Bredan’s sword let out a soft hiss as he drew it from its scabbard.  “How much you want to bet there’s another guardian here?” he asked.

No one offered to take his wager.  The companions spread out slightly as they slowly moved forward toward the altar.

“I think there’s something in that round area,” Glori said.  “Bredan, hold up the light.”

He did, and it revealed that the curving walls behind the altar had small niches cut into them as well.  The light glinted on something in one of them, a small metallic object that had a distinctive greenish tinge.

“There’s no need to go over there and maybe trigger another trap,” Xeeta said.  The sorceress had remained in the entry, standing atop the fallen slab in a half-crouch.  “I can use my magic to bring whatever it is to us.”

The others had stopped when she’d started speaking, and when she was done Kosk nodded eagerly.  “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

The companions drew back to give her a clear line of sight to the alcove.  Bredan glanced back at the wall behind him, where one of the open vaults was nearby at waist level.  There was something visible near the end of it, just within the shadow of the opening.

He turned and lifted his scabbard to get a better look, but then a soft gasp from Glori drew his attention around.

The object she’d spotted was drifting slowly through the air toward them.  He still couldn’t see what it was, exactly; it was roughly oblong and about a foot long, but it was crusted with a heavy green patina that masked its purpose.  Verdigris; that meant that it was made of bronze.  It was being held aloft by a translucent magical hand that cupped it almost like a real hand would have.  Curious, he found himself moving closer without even thinking about it.

“Did you hear something?” Kosk asked.

Bredan turned to look at the dwarf.  He and Quellan had moved to the far side of the chamber, and both were looking around.  The _mage hand_ had stopped moving, but when nothing happened Xeeta gestured and it continued pulling the artifact toward her.  As it approached Glori stepped forward to take it.

But even as she reached out toward the hovering object she came to a sudden stop.  She looked down, a look of confusion on her face.  Bredan also looked, and saw the reason for her trouble: a sickly gray-green hand topped with yellowed claws had emerged from the floor and seized hold of her ankle.

“Monster!” Bredan yelled.  He rushed forward, but was still several steps clear when the ground around Glori exploded and a creature surged up to attack her.  The adventurers barely had time to register a humanoid figure caked with mud and huge slavering jaws before the bard was flung up into the air.  The creature was still holding onto her ankle, and as it reared up it latched its other hand around her throat.  The young woman’s scream abruptly died, and the monster pulled her into a tight embrace, its jaws opening wide to reveal rows of sharp teeth.  She didn’t struggle as it twisted her head roughly aside, leaving the pale flesh of her throat completely exposed to its deadly bite.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 71

A scant instant before the hideous monster would have torn out Glori’s throat with those awful teeth, Bredan slammed into them.

The impact loosened its hold on the girl, and in that moment of advantage Bredan tore her from its grasp.  He pulled her away.  The creature recovered quickly and would have followed, but its legs were still embedded in the mud of the floor.  It took it only a second to free itself, but before it could pursue its escaped victim Kosk rushed up from behind.

“Chew on this, ghoul!” he hissed, sweeping his staff into its back.  The creature shifted quickly, and the blow only glanced off its side, doing little damage.  The dwarf recoiled, choking, “Gods, that’s foul!”

“It’s a ghast!” Quellan warned.  The priest held up his holy symbol, which began to glow with a bright light.  The undead monster slashed its head right to stare at him, hissing in fury.

Bredan pulled Glori over to the side of the room.  She was limp in his grasp, and as he laid her down he could see that her limbs and body were all tensed, like she was clenching all of her muscles at once.  Her eyes were open and her lips twitched as though she was trying to say something, but no sound came out.

“Glori!” Bredan asked.  “What’s wrong, what did it do to you?”

“She’s paralyzed!” Xeeta yelled.  She cursed as the _fire bolt_ that she hurled at the ghast flashed past its head, exploding harmlessly on the far side of the room.  She’d had to aim high in order to avoid accidentally hitting Kosk.  “She’ll recover, assuming that thing doesn’t kill all of us!”

Bredan nodded and left his friend, reaching for his sword.

Quellan launched a _guiding bolt_ at the ghast, but the undead monster anticipated the attack and ducked under the streaking pulse of divine energy.  The half-orc reached for his mace, but the creature was faster.  It closed the gap separating them in a single leap, its claws lashing out as it landed.  With one hand it seized hold of the cleric’s shield and pulled it down, and then the other flashed across his face, scraping over his helmet before tearing bloody red lines across his face.  The impact knocked Quellan back, and like Glori he stiffened as he collapsed, paralyzed by the creature’s fell power.

Before it could move to finish him, off, however, Xeeta launched another flaming bolt, this one striking it squarely in the center of its back.  The ghast let out a furious shriek and spun to face her, the violence showing on its face causing her to stumble back a few steps.

But even as it started toward her, Bredan stepped into its path.  His sword swept out in a brilliant arc, the steel glowing in the light from his spelled scabbard.  But the ghast sprang nimbly back, and the stroke met only empty air.

The two combatants faced off, each wary of the other.

Kosk came at it again from behind, his face twisted from fighting off the effects of its poisonous stench.  But as he swung the staff the ghast twisted its torso and swept back an arm at an angle that would have been painful for a man.  The staff glanced off its forearm before it locked its claws around the weapon and tore it from the dwarf’s grasp.  The ghast flung the staff at Bredan, doing no harm but forcing him back a step.

Kosk held his ground.  His sandaled feet ground into the muddy earth, and for a moment his face became blank as a look of intense focus flashed in his eyes.

Then he exploded into a blur of motion.

Kosk drove one fist into the ghast’s side, delivering a blow that would have shattered ribs on a normal man.  Clearly even the undead monster felt it, for it spun around to face this foe, even though that left its back momentarily open to Bredan and Xeeta.  It hissed as it raised a claw to strike.

But Kosk wasn’t finished.  His arms moved like the snap of a whip, delivering a series of impacts that pulverized the ghast’s body.  The creature withstood that assault but each time it tried to counter the dwarf was already moving to deflect and attack again.

Finally he let out a sharp sound, more like a focused blast of noise than a battle cry, and launched one last attack.  His fist struck the ghast in the breastbone with a force that knocked it off its feet.  It spun around and landed hard in the mud.

Driven by the unnatural unlife that animated it, the ghast did not stay down long.  But even as it rose to its feet, perhaps a bit unsteady after the hammering it had taken, Bredan’s sword came sweeping down.  This time it could not evade in time, and the blazing arc of steel tore its chest open from its shoulder to the opposite hip.  For a moment it looked as though even that would not stop it, as it took a step forward and reached out a clawed arm toward the swordsman.  Bredan drew back a step and raised his sword to a ready position, but a second stroke was not necessary.  With a final hiss of frustrated rage the ghast crumpled to the ground and did not move.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 72

“So that’s what we came here for?” Kosk said with a frown.

They were all standing around the altar stone, with the object that they’d found resting on its surface.  It was a bronze lamp, of the style that had a handle on one end and a long spout on the other where the oil burned.  The lid to the reservoir was buried under a layer of crusted patina, along with most of the rest of the lamp.

“How should we know?” Glori asked.  She still looked rather pale.  She and Quellan had recovered from the ghast’s paralyzing touch shortly after the creature’s death.  The two had treated the worst of their wounds with their healing magic, but all of them still had lingering effects from their battles both in and under the ruins.  After the destruction of the ghast they’d all sought out the shelter of the raised portion of the floor, careful of disturbing any more traps left behind by whoever had built this place.  But no more dangers had appeared, at least thus far.  Kosk had gone over every inch of the altar and the surrounding alcove before pronouncing that he had found no traps or secret panels that might have hidden anything from them. The charnel-house stench of the dead ghast persisted, making the air in the vault unpleasant, but after all they’d gone through a foul stink was hardly worth remarking.

“I believe that it might be magical,” Quellan said.  “It will take some time to learn more.”

“Let’s take it and go, then,” Kosk said.  “You can look at it all you want once we’re well clear of this place.”

“We’re all beaten up,” Bredan said.  “It will be just as hard getting out of here as it was getting in, if not more.  A short rest might be in order.”

“I have a spell that can help all of us,” Quellan said.  “Healing magic.  It’s a ritual prayer that takes ten minutes to complete.”

“This doesn’t strike me as the best place to linger,” Kosk said.

“Bredan’s right,” Glori said.  “I think we could all use a boost before we retrace our steps out of here.”  She kept rubbing her arms, though it wasn’t especially cold.  The scratches that the ghoul had torn in her neck had mostly healed, leaving just pale scars that were barely visible in the light from Bredan’s scabbard.

“We’ll need to make camp in the ruins above, in either case,” Xeeta pointed out.  “Unless you want to make your way back to the village in the dark.”

Bredan shuddered at the suggestion.  Kosk didn’t look happy, but he nodded to Quellan and said, “Best get it over with, then.  I’ll keep watch.”

“You can move around and talk, but don’t leave the room until the spell is completed,” Quellan said.  Kosk grunted assent and went over to the entry, stepping up on the fallen slab that had almost killed him.  He stood in the arched exit as if daring it to try something else.  Xeeta moved around the perimeter of the room, examining the open vaults that penetrated into the walls.  She didn’t reach into any of them, prodding only with her wooden rod.

Quellan used his cloak to begin clearing a spot near the altar of dust, then laid it on the hard floor and knelt upon it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Glori asked.

“No,” Quellan said.  “I just need to concentrate.”

Nodding, Glori sat down on the edge of the raised area.

“Are you okay?” Bredan asked her.

“Yeah.  Sorry.”

“You did nothing to be sorry for,” he told her.

“I just… when that thing touched me… I just couldn’t move.  It was like I was trapped in my own body.  I thought I was going to die.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Bredan said.

“I know.  I’m sor—yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s just that I’ve never felt that helpless before.”

“There have been many times since we’ve left Crosspath that I’ve felt that way,” Bredan said.

“I guess I dragged you into all this,” she said.

“I knew what I was getting into.”

“Really?  I sure didn’t.”  She let out a soft laugh.  “It’s definitely been an adventure, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe you can write a song about it.”

“Yeah.”  She leaned her head against the solidity of the stone wall at her back, and closed her eyes.

Bredan sat there a moment longer.  The cleric was chanting now, a low string of syllables that made no sense to the smith.  He watched Xeeta as she continued her explorations, finishing one wall before crossing to the other side of the room.  He noticed that she’d moved past the niche where he’d spotted something earlier, just before the fight with the undead guardian had begun.  She hadn’t stopped at that opening, or taken anything as far as he could see.  Frowning, he got up and walked over to that spot.

The niche looked undisturbed, but as his light penetrated into the opening he saw something, a small flat rectangle.  It was a book, he realized as he reached in and pulled it out.  It looked old, very old.  It was bound in leather that looked like it hung together more out of habit than anything else.  Curious, he opened it.

The pages of the book clung together, but finally it parted to a random interior page.  The parchment was in even worse shape than the cover, the pages cracked and crumbling even as he tried not to damage them further with sudden movements.  But his eyes were drawn to the writing that covered them.

Bredan was hardly a scholar, but he’d learned how to read and write at a young age, and his uncle had even given him a few books of his own, mostly stories of adventure and magic.  But these letters were unfamiliar.  They covered every inch of the faded parchment, as distinct and detailed as if they’d just been written.  He found that he could not look away, the pages swelling until they filled his vision, absorbing his full awareness.  He thought he could just barely grasp the edge of understanding them, as if he could decipher the text if he could only manage to concentrate a bit more.

He was so focused on the book that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice asked, “What’s that?”

He barely managed to keep from dropping the book as he turned to see Xeeta standing next to him.  “A book,” he said.

“I can see that.  Looks old.  I guess whatever was written in it has faded away.”

He blinked and was about to ask her what she meant when he looked at the book again.  He almost dropped it again in surprise.  The poor condition of the parchment hadn’t changed, but the writing he’d seen earlier was gone.

“Hey, are you okay?  Maybe you’d better let me take that.”

He looked at her, then at the book again.  There was no writing, no hint that there had ever been any writing.

“Bredan?”

“Um… yeah, sure.”  He closed the book and thrust it at her.

She took it from him carefully.  “Usually when a book is thus far gone there’s nothing you can do for it, but there are techniques you can use that will sometimes bring out impressions of what used to be on the page.  Given the circumstances, there may be something important.  I’ll bring it back with us, see what I can find.”

“Okay.”

“I did find something, though,” she said.  She put the book down and held up a small bag, the leather in as poor a condition as the cover of the book.  She carefully unfolded it to reveal a handful of dark stones that flashed in the light.

“Moonstones,” she said.  “Very well cut.  Should be worth a decent amount, once we get back to civilization.”

“That’s great,” Bredan said, still distracted.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.  Sorry, just… a long day, you know?”

“I understand.”  She nodded to where Glori was just getting up.  “I think the priest is almost ready.”  She took off her pack and carefully found a space in it for the book and the bag of gemstones, then followed Bredan back over to the raised platform and the altar.

There was no dramatic flash of light or musical tone to announce the conclusion of Quellan’s spell, but there was no mistaking when it took hold.  Bredan let out a soft gasp as a wave of well-being swept through him, erasing the lingering effects of fatigue and injury.  A pain that he hadn’t even realized he still had vanished from his side where the orc warrior had stabbed him in the ruin above.  Glori and Xeeta likewise showed on their faces the effects of the curative magic.  Bredan bounced on his heels and suddenly felt as though he could run back to the village without difficulty.

“Nice,” Kosk said from the doorway.  “Can we go now?”

Glori turned to Quellan, who leaned on the altar as he got up.  “Do you need to rest a moment?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said.

“Xeeta found some gems,” Bredan said.  “Moonstones.”

“Cool,” Glori said, but there was still a cloud over her manner, stealing some of her usual enthusiasm.

“You can count your loot later,” Kosk said.  “Less talking, more leaving.”

Glori took the ancient lamp and dropped it into her bag.  “Okay, let’s go.”


----------



## carborundum

Oh noes, the book is eeeeevil! Glori is sombre just from proximity, now what?


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Oh noes, the book is eeeeevil! Glori is sombre just from proximity, now what?



*cue sinister laughter*

* * * 

Chapter 73

The journey back to Northpine was uneventful, but they were all relieved when the rooftops and chimneys of the village came into view in the gap between two hills ahead of them.  None of them had talked about it during the hike, but each had carried a small fear that the cyclops or some other hazard might have found the place while they were gone.  The Northpiners were independent, hearty folk, but the thought of them facing the giant or a band of the humanoids they’d encountered did not lead to happy outcomes.

“When we get to Adelar, we should tell the King’s men about all of these monsters,” Glori said.

“What do you think that will solve?” Kosk asked.

“They could send patrols, or something, I don’t know,” Glori said.

“Bands like the ones we faced would just evade a large force until they leave,” Kosk said.  “Threats like these are nothing new in places like this, where civilization hasn’t set down deep roots.”

“Well, we shouldn’t do just nothing,” Glori persisted.  “If nothing else we should warn them about that giant being on the loose in the area.”

“We will warn the villagers, and pass on the warning in every place we visit,” Quellan said.  “But I fear that Kosk is right about the big picture.  At least we’ve eliminated several significant threats to the local communities in the time we’ve been here.”

For a moment it looked like the bard wanted to argue, but finally she let out a sigh and nodded.  “You’re right,” she said.

They trudged on another fifty steps in silence, then Glori turned and looked over at Bredan.  “You’ve been quiet,” she said in a low voice.

“I’ve had a headache,” he said.

“You should have told me,” she said.  “Maybe my healing…”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted.  “It’s not bad.  I just need some rest.  We all do.”

Glori drew back a step but didn’t press him.  Instead she turned to face Kosk and Quellan.  Xeeta, as was typical, was bringing up the rear, and she didn’t seem to share their eagerness to return to the village.  She’d put her cloak back on, and the cowl was raised to its usual place covering her head.

Walking backwards, Glori asked, “Should we talk more about what we’re going to do with that lamp?”

Kosk shook his head.  “What’s there to talk about?  We give it to the sage and we go on our way.  All of this has just been a distraction from our main goal here.”

“Yeah, I know.  But I’m still not sure about this Nordrum character.”

“You weren’t so careful about the elf woman,” Kosk said.  “And you’re usually the first to take a bag of coin when it’s offered.”

“That’s not fair,” Quellan said quietly.  “I admit that the fellow is odd, but he’s given us no reason to suspect his motives.  And my studies of the lamp haven’t turned up anything dangerous.  As far as I can tell, it serves as some kind of focus or aid to divination magic.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Glori said.  “It’s probably nothing, just… I don’t know.  A feeling, I guess.”

“I have a spell that can detect evil,” Quellan said.  “But it’s mostly useful for sorting out potent auras or sensing magical creatures, it’s not really effective at determining someone’s motivations.”

“If we’re going to keep it, then we may wish to reconsider returning to the village,” Xeeta suggested.  The others glanced back at her; even now that she’d been a member of their company for a while she rarely participated in these discussions.

“Too late for that,” Kosk growled, nodding toward a small figure who’d appeared ahead and was running eagerly toward them.

“Indel!” Quellan shouted, waving as the boy approached.  “You know better than to leave the village!”

“Bloody kid’s parents need to give him some bloody chores,” Kosk muttered under his breath.

The village boy was out of breath by the time he reached them, but his face was alive with excitement.  “They found him!  They found Caric!”

“What?” Glori asked.  “When?”

“Right after you left, yesterday!”  The boy grinned as the others gathered around him, all save for Xeeta, who remained back a few steps with her cowl drawn low over her face.

“Where was he?” Glori asked.

“He was hiding in the crawl space under the Devison farm,” Indel reported.  Sucking in a quick breath he continued, “Apparently he was trying to avoid punishment for some apple butter he’d stolen, and when he heard everyone looking for him he decided to stay there.  He’d made a nice little nest for himself down there, some kind of game.  They caught him when he snuck out to steal food.”

“I’ll break his legs,” Kosk said.

“Why didn’t they send someone after us?” Bredan asked.  “I’ve seen horses in the village, they could have sent someone.”

“I don’t know,” Indel said.  “I just know that Caric’s in big trouble.  There was a lot of yelling… I thought that Darik Anthernorn’s head was going to pop, the way he looked.  The sheriff had to take him outside.  Caric’s mom was crying a lot.  Man!  Everybody’s all riled up.”

“Well,” Quellan said.  He looked at each of his companions in turn.  “I suppose that’s that, then.  Come on, we’d better get back.”  With an extra nod toward Glori he added, “We can decide what we want to do when we get there.”

Indel ran ahead of them as they resumed walking toward the village, no doubt to spread the word of their approach.  “One leg,” Kosk said.  “Just let me break one leg.”

“I’ll hold him down for you,” Glori said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 74

As they entered the village it was clear that recent events still had the population on edge.  They saw several clusters of villagers engaged in conversation as they approached the inn, but on seeing the adventurers they quickly separated and went about their own business.  That business all seemed to be in locations far away from the strangers.

“What’s wrong with them?” Bredan asked.  “You’d think we hadn’t saved their village a few times over.”

“They are uncertain about how you will react to the news of the boy,” Xeeta said.  “Or maybe they saw the dwarf’s face and assume we already know.”

Kosk muttered something under his breath, but his scowl eased only fractionally under their scrutiny.

Before they could reach the Gray Oak Inn, Erron Laddrick came into view from behind the sprawling structure and hailed them.  The sheriff wore his sword and looked like he’d already had a long day.

“You heard the news, I suppose,” he said when he got close enough to speak without raising his voices.

“We are just glad that the boy is safe,” Quellan said.

“We also have news,” Glori said.  She quickly provided an overview of their encounters, including the cyclops and the orcs.  She left the details of what they’d found in the cave complex vague, and didn’t mention the lamp.

Laddrick’s expression grew more concerned as she spoke.  “First kobolds, then goblins, and now orcs?  And a giant?”

“The orcs were the remnants of a group that invaded the elves’ lands on the far side of the Dry Hills,” Quellan said.  “The cyclops remains a threat, but I believe it headed deeper into the hills rather than in this direction.  It was wounded, and not looking for a fight.”

“I’ll have word sent to each of the other villages in the area, just in case,” Laddrick said.  He gave them all a looking-over, his gaze lingering on Bredan, who looked like he might fall down.  “You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days.”

“We are used to such things,” Quellan said.

“Well, I am sure the Village Council will want a full report, when you’ve had a chance to rest and get something to eat.  I’ll pass on what you told me.  I’d ask that you keep quiet about the giant, at least until I’ve had a chance to warn some people.  I’d prefer to avoid a panic in the village.”

“Understood, sheriff,” Quellan said.

Laddrick had barely taken his leave and they had not yet continued on to the inn when someone else came rushing to meet them.  Kosk spotted him first, “Here we go,” he said.

Nordrum looked as casually disheveled as ever, but he also looked like he’d gotten hardly any more rest than the adventurers had over the last few days.  His eyes flicked to each of them as if he could see what they carried.  “Did you find anything?  Was there anything there?”

Glori shared a look with each of the others and said, “Oh, we found something.”

“Could we maybe do this in the private room in the inn, rather than in the street?” Kosk asked.  “At least there we can get some ale.  You’re buying, sage,” he added.

Innkeeper Beedlebrim seemed happy enough to see them, though the villagers in the common room seemed as ill at ease as the others they’d encountered outside.  He offered food, hot water, and towels for washing, but when Nordrum looked like he was about to explode at any further delay they just asked for the use of his back room and a few pitchers of ale.

The sage fidgeted by the fireplace until Beedlbrim came in with a platter laden with two pitchers, half a dozen mugs, and a plate of steaming rolls.  Bredan barely waited until the innkeeper set the platter down on the table before he stuffed one of the rolls into his mouth.

“Mfrmph, dat’s good,” he mumbled through the hot bread.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Glori chided.  Kosk filled a mug and drained it before filling a cup for each of them.

“You were successful, I know it,” Nordrum said.  “What did you find?”

“I hope you brought your purse, sage,” Kosk said.

“We found a lamp,” Quellan said.  “A bronze lamp.”

“It was guarded by some skeletons and a ghast,” Kosk said.  “The latter, it didn’t go down easy.”

Quellan took off his pack and dug into it.  “We believe that the lamp is an aid to divination magic,” he said.

“The Lamp of Kharduzz,” Nordrum breathed, his face transported from eagerness to awed joy.  He bent over the table as Quellan took out the cloth bundle and unwrapped it to reveal the artifact.

It didn’t look like much sitting there on the table in the daylight spilling in through the window.  In fact, Bredan thought, it sort of looked like a piece of junk.  He took one of the mugs and drank swallows of ale, trying not to think about his headache.

Glori was watching the sage intently.  “Is that what you were looking for?” she asked.

Nordum smiled and looked up at her.  “Indeed, the Lamp is an exceptional find.  Well worth the reward I offered.”  He reached into one of the pockets of his robe and drew out a small, tightly-bound bag and a small scroll tucked into a leather tube.  “There are a hundred gold coins here, and a writ of credit for the remainder that any merchant house in Adelar will honor.”

“Well then,” Glori said, reaching out to take the bag and the scroll.  She looked over at Xeeta and said, “Hey, maybe he can help with that book you found…”

Nordrum’s hand shot out and locked on the bard’s wrist, holding it tight.  Glori looked up at him in surprise, and Quellan stepped forward with a look on his face that had the sage releasing her quickly.  “My apologies.  A book?  You found a book at the site?  May I… may I see it?”

The companions shared another look—the sage was almost trembling with anticipation—but Glori deliberately put the bag of coins and the writ of credit away before saying, “Don’t get excited, it wasn’t exactly in good shape and the contents were completely unreadable.”

Bredan’s left eye twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

Nordrum’s hands fidgeted until he grasped hold of his robe, hard enough to turn his knuckles white.  “Yes, of course.  But, still.  Written works from this era are so _rare_, and… if I could just see?  If it’s a matter of money, of course I would be happy to double the reward.  Triple it.  That is… if it’s anything salvageable, of course.”

Glori looked at each of the others before she turned to Xeeta and nodded.  The tiefling, still wearing the concealing features of her _alter self_ spell, drew out her pack and carefully extracted the wrapped parcel inside.

The sage watched every small motion.  It was as if the others had ceased to exist.  But as she began to unwrap the blanket she’d folded the book into for protection she frowned.  “That’s odd,” she said.

“What is it?” Glori said, turning to look.  They all did, forcing Nordrum to crane his neck up to see.

In answer the sorceress stepped forward to the table and lifted the blanket.  Nordrum lunged out to catch the book, but all that came out was a cascade of dust.  There were tiny bits of matter in it, but mostly it was just dust, a fine gray mound of it that gathered on the table.  Nordrum stared at it as if someone had just told him his child had drowned in the river.

“Like I said, not in good shape,” Glori said.

With an obvious effort Nordrum tore his attention from the remains of the book.  “And… you said it was unreadable.  That means you looked at it, yes?”

“Yes,” Glori said.  “The pages were blank.”

“Whatever text might have once been on it had long since faded away,” Xeeta said.  “The conditions where it was found were extremely poor, moist air and cold.”  But her eyes flicked to the pile of debris, and she frowned.

“Alas,” Nordrum said.  “Alas.”  He turned back to the lamp, running a finger along the stained metal.

“Yeah, well,” Kosk said, putting his mug down on the table with enough force to draw their attention.  One of the pitchers was completely empty, and the second one close to it.  “If that concludes our business, I’ve got an empty belly and a second skin of dust and grime I’d like to shed.”  With that they departed, leaving the sage bent low over his new treasure, examining every detail in the waning afternoon sunlight.


----------



## carborundum

Oh noes! So many theories....


----------



## Lazybones

Today's update brings us to the end of Book 3. Book 4 will begin with the introduction of a major foe (thus it is entitled "BBEG," continuing the theme of naming the books after RPG tropes).

The village of Northpine is another of my scenario creations. I haven't updated it for 5e, but if you're curious the village and its various sidequests are posted on my Web site at http://lazybones18.tripod.com/dndpine3e.htm. 

* * * 

Chapter 75

Bredan tried to ignore his headache as he made his way down the hall of the inn to the broad flight of wooden steps that descended to the common room.  The inn was quiet.  It was late, but not so late that there wouldn’t still be people drinking and enjoying themselves in any of the inns in Crosspath.  Rural folk went to bed earlier, it seemed.

He made his way down the stairs, careful to hold onto the railing.  His head seemed to pound with each step he took.  The headache had been with him since they’d left behind the ruins, but it had gotten worse, enough that he couldn’t sleep despite his exhaustion.  It had been about the only thing that had kept him from dozing off during their meeting with the village council earlier.  Fortunately Glori and Quellan had done most of the talking and there hadn’t been any need for him to speak up.

A single lamp burned low in the common room, enough for him to negotiate the stairs without an accident.  Its light revealed one other person still awake, seated at a table close to the lamp so he could read the book he had folded open on the table in front of him.  Quellan was intent on his reading, but as Bredan stepped on the last step it let out a low creak and the cleric looked up and nodded in greeting.

Bredan went over to the bar and reached behind to grab a bottle of the local brandy that the villagers made from apples and pears instead of grapes.  He took a silver coin out of his purse and left it in the space where the bottle had rested, then took a pair of glasses and went over to the half-orc’s table.  It was still a strange feeling, having a full purse.  And that wasn’t even counting what they would get when they got to Adelar and cashed in the sage’s letter of credit.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Bredan asked as he put the bottle and glasses on the table.

“No.  None for me, thank you,” Quellan said as Bredan poured out a measure of the spirits.  The stuff was like the hard cider he’d sometimes drunk back home, but it had a decent kick.  He hoped that it would help ease his headache.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

Quellan held up the book.  It had a plain leather cover without even a title on the front or the spine.  “It’s called _The Principles of Knowing_.  It’s one of the core texts of my faith.  I haven’t taken the time to read in quite a while, it helps me focus my thoughts.”

“I can understand why you might want to do that, after… after everything.”

“Is it what you thought it would be?” Quellan asked.  “All this, the adventuring life?”

“Well, it’s not quite one of Glori’s stories.  But it hasn’t been dull.”

“No, that is certainly true.”

“I don’t know.  This can’t be typical.  One village, with so many troubles.”

“It may be much worse in the north.”

“I know.  I know that’s what everyone keeps saying, and I understand what we’re getting ourselves into.  Or at least, I know it can be bad.  But it’s necessary, right?”

“I am not trying to talk you out of your commitment,” Quellan said.  “I know you have skill, and a good heart.  The challenges we faced here will make a real difference in the lives of these people, even if we had nothing to do with finding the missing boy.”

“A fact that Kosk will no doubt never let us forget,” Bredan said.  He finished off his brandy and considered the bottle.

The front door of the inn swung open and a familiar figure came inside.  “I saw the light,” Erron Laddrick said.  The sheriff wore his sword, and he had a small hunter’s bow slung across his back.

“Come, join us, sheriff,” Quellan said.

Laddrick’s boots sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the sleeping in as he crossed the floor to their table.

“Do you patrol the village often at night, sheriff?” Bredan asked.

“I do enjoy the quiet of the night,” Laddrick said.  “Though I must admit, I have been taking evening walks more often since you arrived.”

“Understandable,” Quellan said.  “Would you care to join us for a drink?”

Laddrick glanced down at the bottle.  “Perhaps just a small one,” he said.

Bredan poured him a measure and refreshed his own glass.  “Thank you kindly,” Laddrick said as he took his glass.  He took a drink then glanced at each of them.  “So,” he said, “are you planning on resuming your journey north tomorrow?”

Bredan paused in the midst of lifting his glass to his lips.  “You’re the third person to ask me that today,” he said.

Laddrick put his glass down on the tabletop.  “The folk who live here are simple folk, living simple lives,” he said.  “Since you arrived here, things have been anything but simple.”

Bredan put his glass down with rather more force than the sheriff had.  “Are you suggesting it’s our fault that all this happened?  If we hadn’t come along those monsters would still be there, and the danger to your village would be greater than it is now.”

Quellan leaned forward to interject, but Laddrick forestalled both of them with a raised hand.  “Peace,” he said.  “I’m not saying you’re wrong about any of that.  I’m just telling you that people are nervous, and scared.”

“These events are likely related to the war,” Quellan said.  “Those orcs, at least, they came from the north.  We’re just lucky they faced the elves first instead of coming directly south through the Dry Hills.  From what the elves told us, there were over a hundred of them at one point.”

Laddrick nodded.  “We are grateful for all you’ve done.  In fact, some of the local figures took up a collection, as a gesture of thanks.”  He reached under his cloak and took out a small pouch that jingled slightly as he set it on the table.

“That’s not necessary,” Quellan said, but now it was Bredan’s turn to hold up a hand.  “Don’t be too hasty,” the smith said.  “You know Glori would never forgive either of us if we turned down a reward.”

“It’s less than you deserve,” Laddrick said.  “And after everything with the boy… well, it would be a relief to some folks if you took it, along with my personal thanks.”

Quellan looked at Bredan and nodded; the smith took the pouch and tucked it into a pocket of his coat.  The sheriff stood.  “Thanks for the drink,” he said.

Quellan stood as well, followed by Bredan.  “We are glad we were able to help,” the cleric said.  He offered a hand, and after a moment the sheriff took it.  “As for your first question, I think we will be moving on in the morning.  Our dwarven friend has been quite… impatient, and events are no doubt moving swiftly in the north.”

“Good luck,” Laddrick said.  “If I were still a young man I’d be envious of you, but I’ll be honest… I’m glad I’m not walking your path this time around.”

“We’re just doing what has to be done,” Bredan said.

Laddrick nodded.  “I bid you good evening then, gentlemen.”  With a final nod he retraced his steps, his boots clattering upon the empty floor before he reached the door and disappeared the way he had come.

The two adventurers let the silence recover a bit before Quellan said, “Well.  I suppose I should try to get some sleep, if we’re to have a long day tomorrow.”  He nodded toward the bottle.  “You may wish to do the same.”

Bredan’s eyes lingered on the bottle a moment before he replaced the cork, but he brought it with him when he turned back to the stairs.  Quellan walked with him, the half-orc’s steps causing the smooth floorboards to creak heavily under him.

The two reached the stairs before Bredan turned suddenly.  “I wonder what’s been happening in the north while we’ve been here,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

I've got a decent number of chapter drafts ready at this point, but I wanted to give readers a heads-up that I may put this story on hold in November so I can participate in my seventh National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). You can find my past entries at https://nanowrimo.org/participants/lazybones1969/novels. 

Here's Book 4.

* * * 

Book 4: BBEG

Chapter 76

A breeze picked up as Kurok made his way down into the valley, but it did little to ease the heat of the day.  It did kick up a fair share of dust, especially as the gusts reached the cleared area where the bulk of the legion camp had been assembled.

The camp had long since spread beyond its original boundaries, and tents dotted the steep slopes that surrounded the valley floor.  But most of the activity was down below, a dense knot of figures that bustled about in apparent confusion.  But Kurok could see the order within the chaos, and the purpose that drove every figure from the most battle-hardened veteran to the lowest slave.

The sentries on the outer edge of the camp saluted as he approached, but made no move to hinder him.  Kurok ignored them as he had ignored the heat and the dust.  He moved without hesitation into the hubbub of the camp, a small bubble of space moving with him as those he encountered made way for him to pass.

The noise within the camp was ferocious.  A constant hammering issued from the half-dozen forges arranged in a neat line behind the massive supply dumps covered by straining tarps.  That din competed with the shouts of rankleaders and war captains as they issued commands to their warriors, and the crack of whips as slaves and drudges were chivvied just as aggressively to their tasks.

At one point he had to pause for a moment as an ogre trudged past, dragging a bundle of tree trunks behind it in the dirt.  The hulking creature was having difficulty with the load, but on seeing Kurok it lowered its head and redoubled its efforts, dragging the trailing burden clear of his path within moments.  A pair of horse-drawn carts loaded with supplies was following in the ogre’s wake, but their drivers yanked their animals to a halt until he had passed.  Kurok could hear them lashing their mounts back into motion as if eager to make up the few seconds they had lost.

His cloak swirled around his feet as he crossed the camp with long strides.  His destination was visible ahead, at the crest of a bony ridge that jutted from the side of the valley like a giant’s shoulder.  The tent was several times the size of the ones the warriors used, and it was visible from everywhere in the camp.  A single banner fluttered in the breeze above it.  It was the only banner, badge, or sigil anywhere in the camp.  Kurok knew that there were representatives of nearly a dozen tribes, clans, and warbands here in the camp, members of not only the assorted goblinoid races, but also those allies they had brought to their cause, like the ogre he’d seen earlier.  But their old allegiances had been sundered.  Now they were all members of the Black Arrow, the last of the legions assembled to join the army of the High Warlord, Kavel Murgoth.  It was that symbol that danced upon that banner, the symbol that would lead them as they marched down from the mountains to join the forces already engaged in the fight against the humans who lived in the lands below.

Lands that would soon be theirs.

With his attention distracted, he only belatedly realized that he’d almost walked into a dense knot of marching warriors.  Cursing his lack of attention, Kurok came to a sudden stop, facing the approaching ranks of armored hobgoblins.  Their rankleader quickly changed their route to avoid a collision, and an officer hurried forward to meet him.  Kurok’s lips twisted—more in exasperation at the delay than offense—but he froze as he recognized the officer.

“Apologies, Blooded,” the hobgoblin said.  He was a big man, his faced marked with the ritual notches of a veteran of many engagements.  He stood straight and smacked his fist against his armored chest in salute, his thumb tucked inside his fingers in a gesture of submission.  His eyes didn’t quite meet Kurok’s, and he held the salute as if prepared to stand there all day.

It took Kurok a moment to control the flood of memories that rushed over him.  _Does he know who I am?_ he thought.  _Who I was?  Does he remember?_

He made a small gesture of acknowledgement, also conveying dismissal, but to his surprise the officer lingered.  “I have heard of your success against the orcs, my lord,” he said.  “I hope that soon we will march to join the war against the humans.”

Kurok’s eyes flicked from side to side to see if anyone else was paying attention to the exchange.  The marching soldiers were already a good distance off, and while there were dozens of goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears within a stone’s throw they were all hurrying about their own errands and tasks, leaving an empty circle around the two of them.  The officer still hadn’t moved; he’d released his salute but he continued to hold himself in a rigid stance of deference.

“Soon enough, War Captain Gurag,” Kurok said.  He was watching the other carefully as he spoke, but did not see any overt reaction to his use of the officer’s name.  Gurag saluted again, then turned and continued after the soldiers, moving at the casual pace his rank permitted.  Kurok stood there for a long moment, watching him until the bustle of the camp swallowed him up.

The unexpected encounter lingered with Kurok as he exited the camp and started up the steep trail that led to the tent atop the crest.  There were guards there too, if somewhat more subtly placed than the earlier sentries, but they recognized what he was and let him pass.

The breeze was stronger atop the ridge, but it barely shifted the heavy canvas walls of the huge tent.  The banner continued to dance as if trying to escape.  From up close the black arrow was the size of an ogre’s spear, the jagged hooks embedded in the tip clearly visible.  To Kurok it seemed to be pointing south, to where the legion would be going once all preparations were complete.

The interior of the tent was cloaked in murkiness that was in sharp contrast to the brightness outside.  But Kurok had long since mastered the darkness.  He let the heavy outer fold of the entry fall shut behind him.

The tent was divided into two parts by an interior drape that hung from the central supports.  The front part contained a folding desk, several chairs, and a few other small pieces of furniture.  From the craftsmanship they all looked to be human-made.  His people knew how to make armor, weapons, and fortifications, but they lacked the skill and patience to put art into everyday objects.

Perhaps, when they had conquered the rich lands to the south, they would be able to learn those skills.  Or have human slaves to do it for them, which amounted to the same thing, in the end.

“Come,” a soft voice from the back of the tent called to him.

The darkness was even thicker in the back, augmented by a censer that provided only the barest spark of light but dense twisting weaves of fragrant smoke.  Kurok recognized the narcotic but made no effort to avoid the vapors.

The room’s sole occupant was seated in a chair near the back of the tent.  He wore the darkness like a cloak, and even though the air in the tent was hot and stale he was draped in heavy folds of black cloth that covered him from head to toe.  Even Kurok’s exceptional vision could not penetrate the depths of that cowl, though he could feel the weight of the other’s stare upon him.

“Kurok,” he said.  “I had wondered if perhaps you would not return before our departure.”

“My lord Zorek,” Kurok said.  “I have completed the task you set me to.”

“Ah.  The reason for your delay?”

“The orcs outnumbered us two to one, my lord.  But they could not withstand the power of the Veiled One.”

“They are destroyed, then?”

“The tribes have been sundered, their holds cleansed, their supplies taken.  A remnant fled to the south, but they are no longer a threat to us.  Casualties were light.  I have prepared a full report.”  He dug into his belt, producing a small fold of leather, but the robed figure casually waved it aside.  “I had little doubt of your success,” Zorek said.  “You have risen quickly even among the standards of the Blooded.  Your name has been mentioned more than once among the war councils, and even Murgoth himself knows who you are.”

Kurok felt a brief flutter of emotion, but he quickly tamped it down.  He knew Zorek well enough to know when praise was a prelude to something more.  He waited in silence for that addendum.

Zorek watched him for a moment, as if he could read Kurok’s thoughts.  “We have another task for you.”

“I exist to serve,” Kurok said.

“Yes,” Zorek said.  “Yes, you do.  The Black Arrow departs in two days.  The army of the human king has departed Adelar and marches to engage the High Warlord.”

“With the power of the Veiled One, we will defeat them,” Kurok said.

“Perhaps,” Zorek said, almost causing Kurok to betray a reaction.  The way it was spoken, that one word could have implied that Zorek did not care about the outcome, or that it did not matter.  But that made no sense, given that the Blooded had been working for decades now toward this moment, toward the clash that was building in the soft human lands to the south.

Zorek paused for a long moment, as if savoring his reaction.  Finally he continued, “You will not be heading south with the army.”

Kurok rallied enough not to respond, at least outwardly.  Showing doubts or asking questions would only weaken his position, it would not change the outcome of this conversation.  With more confidence he waited for more.

Zorek nodded to himself, perhaps satisfied with Kurok’s recovery.  “There is a place, a place far from the war, but a place of importance in our broader campaign.  The minions of the human king are there, but not in strength.  There is an important task that you must do there.  Our agents are already preparing the way, but it will fall upon you, as one of the Blooded, to accomplish this task.”

Kurok knew he had not been told anything significant as of yet, but he felt that something was expected when Zorek paused again.  “I will not fail,” he said.

“No, you shall not,” Zorek said.  “Now listen carefully, and heed my words.  You have a long journey ahead of you, and by the time the legion marches you must already be far from here.  You will travel alone, but there is an army you will gather along the way, and the Veiled One may see fit to grant you added power to accomplish your task.”

Kurok listened as Zorek continued his instructions, and did his best to conceal his surprise as he learned more about his assignment.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 77

Gurag slept uneasily, tossing under the thin blanket atop his cot.  The hobgoblin war captain had a private tent, befitting his rank, though one could have crossed from the front flap to the back wall in just four steps.  Other than the cot, the only furnishing was a folding wooden armor stand that kept his heavy suit of leather and metal out of the mud.  His sword was closer, hanging from the central post within easy reach of the cot.

The temperature in the tent suddenly dropped, and a plume of white mist rose from the captain’s lips.

Gurag shot up suddenly, reaching for his sword even as he swung his legs around to the floor.  But even as his fingertips brushed the hilt he felt his muscles freeze.  He was barely able to grab hold of the cot to keep himself from falling on his face, but beyond that he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

A figure came into the tent, shrouded in darkness.  Through a supreme effort Gurag was able to twist his head just enough to see the intruder, though even his darkvision was not enough to pierce the gloom under the deep cowl the other wore.

He tried to speak, but the only sound he could manage was a strangled gasp.

“Come now,” the other said.  “You cannot tell me that this visit is a surprise, _old friend_.”

“Gaaaaaargk...”

“I knew you recognized me, earlier,” Kurok said, coming fully into the tent and letting the canvas flap swing shut behind him.  That left the interior of the tent almost pitch black, but Gurag could still feel the physical presence of the other hobgoblin.  The captain tensed, trying to push his outstretched hand toward where he knew his sword to be.  It was as if his entire body had been wrapped in invisible shackles; he could not move.  He let out another vague sound.

If Kurok noticed his efforts, or was disconcerted by them, he gave no sign.  “Yes, that was a long time ago,” he said conversationally, as if responding to something Gurag had said.  “We were younglings.  But I have not forgotten, none of it.  The torment that you and your friends inflicted on me.  Back when I was small, weak.”

“Gurrrk…”

“I know, it is our way.  But you took such pleasure in it.  Do you recall that one time that you stripped me naked, tied me up, and left me dangling over the cliffs that overlooked the village?  Everyone saw, and laughed.  My mother, she beat me, did you know that?  Said that I was weak for letting anyone do that to me.  Not that I could have done anything.  I _was_ weak, then.”

Gurag strained.  He thought he could feel the force holding him bend slightly against his efforts.  Digging deep, he concentrated the full force of his will on moving his hand.  His fingers trembled with the effort, but after a moment he felt the familiar solidity of his sword’s hilt brush the tips.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Kurok said.  “You weren’t there when it finally happened, you had just left to begin your training with the warrior cadre.  But others took your place.  It was one of them that I struck down with the power.  Not enough to kill him—I was not yet then what I would become.  But I wanted to.  Oh, how I wanted to.”

Gurag pressed forward, slowly.  His fingers slowly began to clench shut around the hilt.

“After that, it all changed,” Kurok said.  “I had proven that I was one of the Blooded.  Such honor.  Everyone in the village came to watch when they came to take me.  Of course, I did not know then that what they would put me through would make the torments you inflicted seem insignificant by contrast.”

Gurag could feel the power holding him start to ease.  Trying not to betray his effort to his adversary, he tried to shift his feet.

Suddenly Kurok made a gesture with his hand, and the paralysis holding Gurag vanished.  The hobgoblin immediately rose up, drawing the sword even as he pivoted into a powerful thrust.

Kurok made now move to evade the attack.  As he lunged Gurag could see what looked like ice crystals clinging to his cloak.

He stabbed true.  The sword failed to penetrate the warlock’s body, but clearly Kurok felt it, and he drew back a step, grunting in what might have been pain.  But Gurag staggered as a jolt of icy cold that made the earlier paralysis feel pleasant by comparison shot through his body.  That wedge of chill penetrated to his bones, and it was all he could do to keep his grip on his sword.  As he drew back he could see that ice crusted the length of the blade.

Gurag looked up at Kurok, who still hadn’t moved.  “What… what do you want from me?” he gasped.

“I want you to know what it felt like, atop the cliff,” Kurok said.

Gurag shifted slightly, glanced past the warlock at the entry.  With his sword he could possibly cut another way out, but the tough canvas would likely require more than one stroke to tear an opening, and that would leave him vulnerable.  On the other hand, there were hundreds of warriors within this part of the camp who would hear a shout of alarm even through the thick walls of the tent.

“Go ahead and cry out,” Kurok said, as if he’d read his mind.  “I have arranged for us not to be disturbed.”

Gurag lunged forward again, but it was only a feint.  As Kurok started to turn toward his attack he kicked his cot toward to the warlock.  Camp furniture was too fragile to do much damage, but it distracted his adversary for just a moment.  But as Gurag dove toward the exit a thick arm shot out from the black cloak and snagged him around the throat.

The hobgoblin captain was surprised as he was yanked back into the tent; the warlock was unexpectedly _strong_.  Gurag still had his sword, and as they struggled he reversed the weapon and drove it back in a thrust that would impale his adversary.  This time he got a hiss of pain, telling him he’d struck true, but once more he paid for it as the icy cold of the warlock’s magic poured into him.

He’d thought he was prepared for it, but this time the terrible chill seemed to scour him, stealing away his strength like a siphon.  The sword fell from his grasp as his entire arm went numb.  He tried to shift his weight the other way, to twist free of his attacker’s grip, but Kurok merely shifted with him, adding his own weight and bearing the dazed captain to the ground.

“The power of the Veiled One protects me,” the warlock hissed in his ear.  Gurag tried to struggle, but his own body was failing him, his muscles refusing his commands.  The entire right side of his body felt dead.  He fumbled with his left hand, trying to find his sword.  He got a knee under him and tried to buck off his enemy, but their respective positions had him at a decisive disadvantage.

“Mercy,” he gasped out.

He felt Kurok’s start of surprise.  But a moment later the warlock leaned in again and hissed in his ear.  “Mercy is not our way,” he said.

Gurag tensed for another last-ditch effort, but before he could move Kurok shifted his free hand.  A puff of something erupted into Gurag’s face.  It seared as it burned his eyes, kept burning as whatever it was traveled into his lungs.  After feeling nearly frozen through a moment ago, now it felt like he was on fire.  His struggles weakened as his legs kicked uselessly at the muddy floor of the tent.

Kurok waited until it was finished before he rose.  His side stung where Gurag’s second thrust had pierced through the protection of the _Armor of Agathys_.  But the spell had served its purpose, and he’d learned to ignore far worse pains.  He had a long night ahead of him and long days after that.

There was much to be done before he reached the Silverpeak Valley.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 78

Stayer’s Holding wasn’t much more than a village, but it boasted three inns and half a dozen taverns.  But after more than a week of tiny hamlets and isolated settlements—when they weren’t sleeping under the open sky of the wilderness—the place seemed crowded and busy to Xeeta’s eyes.

Part of it was that the village—town, whatever—_was_ busy.  Stayer’s Holding was less than a day’s travel from Adelar.  The latter place was a true city, the largest in the north, with more than ten thousand inhabitants.

Xeeta had been in larger cities, but at the moment the thought of Adelar filled her with apprehension.  But that was where her new friends were going, to join the armies that King Dangren was gathering to fight back against the goblinoid hordes that had swept down from the mountains some months ago into the northernmost territories of the Kingdom of Arresh.

Xeeta had no interest in joining the armies of Arresh.  It wasn’t just that she was from far away from here.  Her heritage marked her as an outsider, and there were many, if not most, who would see her as little better than the creatures that the army was preparing to fight.  She kept the cowl of her cloak up despite the heat of the afternoon, but that was an imperfect disguise, not quite able to conceal the bulk of the curved horns that jutted from her temples, or the ruddy tint of her skin, too red to be even the fiercest sunburn.  She rarely smiled, for that revealed that her teeth bore subtle points.  She had seen brave men recoil from that smile.

A faint clacking of wood striking wood penetrated her thoughts and confirmed she was nearing her destination.  Stayer’s Holding was just large enough to get lost in, but she’d completed her errand and now it was time to make the decision she’d been dreading since she and her companions had left the troubled village of Northpine behind them.

The inn was called The King’s Bounty, and while it boasted three stories and two spreading wings it wasn’t even the largest in Stayer’s Holding.  But like the others it was crowded with other travelers, many of whom looked as though they carried everything they owned on their backs.  Xeeta and her companions were in that category as well, but at least they had full purses, and each other to keep an eye on their backs.  It had been a while since she had felt that way.  For much of the time since she’d left Li Syval she’d felt more like the obvious refugees seeking shelter from the war in this place.

The thought had her pausing again, but finally she let out a sigh and continued past the front porch of the inn to the stableyard.  It was crowded as well, with carts and wagons laden heavily with piled belongings hastily gathered.  But there was another yard in the back of the inn that was more or less empty, save for the clacking that grew louder as she made her way in that direction.

As she came around the side of the inn she could see the source of the sound.  Two people were sparring with practice swords made of wooden slats bound around a rod of metal to add weight and strength.  From the looks of them they’d been at it for quite a while.

They were the two she had come to see, but she drew back into the shadows to watch them as they battled.

From a first glance it didn’t seem like much of a contest at all.  The man was young, a human of maybe twenty years, and the loose shirt he wore failed to hide the muscle that corded his arms and torso.  He had been a blacksmith, Xeeta knew, and he had only gotten tougher in his brief career as an adventurer.  The wooden sword he was using was only a fraction of the size of his actual blade, which was propped up against a pile of crates next to the back door of the inn.

His opponent was a lithe young woman.  Even if one couldn’t see the subtle hints in her features, the slight points of her eyes or the tilt of her eyes, her part-elven heritage was clear in the fluid grace with which she moved.  She too had a real sword waiting for her, a slender longsword in a black leather scabbard.  But far more notable was the silver lyre standing next to it, carefully laid atop a leather scrip to keep it out of the dirt of the yard.  The lyre was impressive, but it was just a tool, a focus for the half-elf woman’s bardic magic.

The woman was moving well, but to Xeeta the outcome of the fight looked inevitable.  And even as the thought formed the smith swung his blade around in a powerful arc.  The half-elf shifted into a parry, but too late realized she couldn’t absorb the force of that swing.  She let out a high-pitched sound and darted back, flinching as the collision of the swords launched hers across the yard almost to the back fence.

“Damn it,” she said, shaking her arm to loosen the sting of the impact.  “I really thought I was getting the hang of this.”

The young man straightened and offered a salute before he lowered his weapon.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Glori.  You’ve come along quite swiftly.  You’ve picked it up faster than I did when I started.  Far faster.”

Glori grinned and rubbed her arm.  “You’re a good teacher, Bredan.”

“With your speed, I think you’ll be a decent swordswoman before you know it.”

“It’s strange,” she said.  “When we’re sparring, it’s almost like music.  As if the sound of the blades clashing are the notes of a song.  It seems to come easier if I don’t think about it, just let it wash over me.”

“Whatever works,” Bredan said with a grin.  “Hey, I got you something.”

Glori had started to head over to recover her weapon, but at his words spun around with an eager look on her face.  “A present?  Give it over.”

His grin matched hers as they made their way over to the crates.  Xeeta remained under cover, watching them.

Moving in an exaggerated manner that made it clear he had planned this, Bredan moved one of the crates and picked up a package he’d left under it.  It was a small bundle, wrapped in heavy linen and secured with leather cords.  She quickly got it open and let out a surprised sound.  Xeeta couldn’t see what it was and almost stepped out around the building before she caught herself.

A moment later Glori held up her present.  It was a shirt of fine chainmail, the links gleaming in the bright afternoon light.  “This is… you didn’t have to buy this for me out of your share of the loot.”

Xeeta’s hand reflexively dropped to the full purse tucked into an inner pocket of her coat.  It was more silver than gold, but still a lot of coins.  Their explorations and clashes with humanoid tribes around Northpine had resulted in considerable treasure, and that was not even counting the writ of credit that Glori carried, to be cashed in when they got to Adelar.

“It’s worth it, to keep you safe,” Bredan said.

Glori hugged him, then carefully folded the shirt and tucked it back into the wrap.  “What about your armor?”

“I can keep it up,” he said.  “Maybe I can rent some time in a forge when we get to Adelar.”

“We may not have time,” Glori said.

Bredan nodded, though he looked uncertain.  Xeeta knew that he was nervous about joining the King’s army.  Not that he should doubt his own skill, she thought, but his father had been a soldier, and the young man had set him up on a high pedestal in his mind.

“It’s Quellan who needs new armor,” Glori went on.

“I plan on helping him pick out a suit of half-plate when we arrive,” Bredan went on.  “If we can find one that fits him.”

Xeeta smiled at the mention of the half-orc.  It was the cleric of Hosrenu, god of knowledge, who she thought understood her the most out of her new companions.  He certainly had faced more than his share of intolerance, yet somehow managed not to let it get to him.  That was a skill that she had not yet mastered.

“Come on, let’s go get washed up,” Glori said.  As they started up the short flight of steps that led to the back door of the inn Xeeta realized that her chance to do what she had come here to do was slipping away.  She almost let them go, but at the last moment stepped into the sunlight and said, “Hello.”

“Xeeta!” Bredan said, his smile as warm and honest as his greeting.  “We were just practicing.  We were going to go inside…”

“I know,” Xeeta said, her nervousness returning with an intensity that caught her by surprise.  “I just… I just wanted to talk with you for a moment.”

“Well, come on inside, I should just wash up a bit before…”

“You’re leaving,” Glori said.

Bredan blinked, looking between the two women before his eyes settled on Xeeta’s.  When she nodded he looked unhappy.  “You’re… why?” he asked.

“You knew that this was coming, that I was reluctant to go to Adelar,” she said.  “Towns are not a place for me.  There are too many who would react with horror, if they saw what I was.”

“We’d protect you,” Bredan said.

“I know you have been very supportive, both of you, but I do not want to be protected.  Nor do I wish to distract you from your mission.  It is important, but this is not my war.”

Bredan looked confused, but Glori nodded in understanding.  “Where will you go?” she asked.

“Someplace quiet,” Xeeta said.

“But you haven’t gotten your share of the sage’s gold yet,” Bredan said.  “If you just stay with us for one day longer, we can cash in that writ of credit…”

Xeeta held up a hand to forestall his argument.  “That’s not necessary,” she said.

“You have as much right to it as any of us,” Glori said.  “Even if you don’t come to the town with us, we can pay you out of the coin we got in Northpine.”  Bredan colored slightly, no doubt thinking of the money he’d spent on Glori’s new armor.

“No, I mean it,” Xeeta said.  “You have given me enough, and not only my freedom.  The way you accepted me into your company… it means a great deal to me.”

“I hope you will say goodbye to Quellan and Kosk… or at least Quellan,” Glori said.

“Yeah, you can come in and have one last drink,” Bredan said.  “A proper farewell.  It’s late, in any case; you should stay tonight and get an early start in the morning, like us.”

“I would, but I… I have made arrangements,” Xeeta said.  “For at least the first part of my journey.  I have to go now.”

“It’s been good having you with us, even for a short time,” Glori said, coming down the steps to enfold her in a brief hug.  “I’d tell you to be careful, but I know you can handle yourself.”

“I’m sorry you have to go,” Bredan said, replacing the bard with a hug tight enough that Xeeta let out a bit of gasp.  The boy did not know his own strength.

“Try not to crush her,” Glori said.  Bredan released the tiefling and stammered an apology.  “I hope we’ll meet again,” he said.

Xeeta nodded.  After one final look at each of them, she turned and headed back the way she had come.  Bredan and Glori watched until she disappeared around the end of the inn, but she did not look back.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 79

Bredan’s first impression of Adelar was that every single person in the kingdom of Arresh had been gathered together and placed inside its walls.

The city was perched atop a bluff that overlooked the surrounding landscape of the Sarund Valley.  From a distance it had resembled a huge castle, surrounded by a tall stone wall that hid all but the tallest rooftops and towers behind its bulk.  They had been able to see it from miles away, looming on its rock like some vigilant sentinel.

The streets were packed with people, animals, and vehicles of all sizes.  Bredan did not see how they could all fit, or how the pedestrians avoided being crushed to death under the carts and wagons that barely seemed to slow as they passed through the sea of people.  Somehow business was being conducted through the chaos, with merchants crying out from shop fronts or compact stalls tucked into the narrow spaces between buildings.  Every time Bredan turned his head it felt like someone was shouting in his ear, trying to entice him into buying something.  The sights, sounds, and smells were almost overwhelming.

Someone collided into him as he tried to take it all in, and he was nearly run over by a wagon that rattled past almost before he knew it was there.  The driver shouted something at him that he couldn’t quite make out but was obviously insulting, and when he looked back to see who had struck him he couldn’t make him out in the crowd.  A moment’s alarm had him grasping for his purse, but it was still where it was supposed to be.  It had been an accident, not an attempt to rob him.

He flinched as someone grabbed him and almost reached for his sword before he realized it was Kosk.  The dwarf had a wry look on his face.  “Try not to get yourself killed before we make it to the war,” he said.

Bredan followed him over to a slightly quieter spot along the side of the street, in the lee of a squat building that he identified as a guardhouse even before he saw the soldier standing in its doorway.  Glori was speaking with the man, who looked barely older than Bredan himself, with a bowl-shaped iron cap tilted low over his face and a suit of studded leather armor that looked to be a size or two too large.  Quellan was just standing there, but the way the soldier’s eyes kept flicking over to the half-orc suggested that his kind weren’t very common in Adelar.

By the time that Bredan and Kosk rejoined the others Glori had gotten whatever information she’d wanted, and they resumed their way deeper into the city.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Bredan asked Quellan.

“Glori is more familiar with places like this than I,” the cleric responded.  At least he too seemed to be unsettled by the place, though on him nervousness looked indistinguishable from ferocity.

Glori led them, and if she was intimidated by the crowd she didn’t show it.  When they ran into a particularly dense knot of people she shouted, “Make way!  Make way!” in a surprisingly booming voice, and to Bredan’s surprise people _did_ make way for them to pass.  Or maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise, he thought, noticing how people’s eyes widened when they fixed on Quellan.  The half-orc’s eyes were focused on a point directly ahead, refusing to acknowledge those stares.  Kosk followed in his wake, muttering to himself.  The dwarf drew his own share of double-takes, with his clean-shaven features and his monk’s habit, both unusual enough to draw attention.  But the dwarf’s face was set in an expression that caused people to hurry out of his path almost as quickly as they did for Quellan.

Crossing the city seemed to take hours, but Bredan knew that couldn’t be right from the slow shifting of the shadows from the sun high overhead.  They passed taverns, shops that looked interesting, even a theater covered in colorful bunting that extended out over the street on long wooden poles.  They had agreed that they would report in first, to make sure that the local authorities knew about the humanoid forces they had encountered around Northpine, and to find out what was happening with the war.  The people they had talked to on the road had offered a hundred different stories and rumors, ranging from the complete and utter defeat of the raiders to reports of a legion of a thousand screaming goblinoid warriors a day’s march from the city.  But it had been a long walk, and as they passed another tavern with double doors open wide he thought that maybe one drink would not delay them overmuch.

He drifted in that direction and was about to suggest it to the others when he caught a glimpse of the interior.  The place was crowded, with every seat he could see taken, but there was none of the laughter or music or games he remembered from the Boar’s Tusk or the other taverns back home.  The faces he could see either looked sullen or dazed, as if they didn’t quite realize where they were or how they had gotten there.

“Bredan?” Glori called.  She’d paused just ahead and was looking back at him.  They all were.

“Coming,” Bredan said, hurrying to catch up.

It was like that throughout the city, worry and uncertainty draping the city like a heavy cloak.  Many of the people they encountered were armed, and a good share armored as well.  Even the merchants carried knives openly, and the ones in nicer clothes had guards shadowing them, hard men and women who shot him looks as if he might attack their charges right there on the street.  But Bredan also saw clusters of families huddled together in the narrow spaces between buildings, sometimes with a mound of luggage and other possessions, other times just with the clothes on their backs.  What he didn’t see were beggars, and fewer soldiers than he’d thought to find in a city at war.  Maybe the army was staging somewhere outside the city, he thought.  There had been guards at the city gates, but they hadn’t stopped them from coming in, had just stood there watching the constant flood of people coming in and out.

At one point he heard the familiar hammering of a smithy, but the narrow streets twisted the sounds so that he couldn’t tell where they were coming from.  He was so distracted looking around that he almost ran into Quellan’s back before he realized that they had come to a halt.

They stood on the edge of a small square.  There were people about, but after the crowds near the gate the place looked relatively deserted.  But Bredan noticed that only in passing as his eyes were drawn ahead and up, at their destination.

Adelar was a fortified town, but the Governor’s Keep was a fortress within a fortress, a massive block of stone surrounded by a wall twenty feet high.  Two tall towers rose up behind it, flanking a steeply-slanted roof covered in dark tiles.  The flag of the King flew on a standard atop the taller of those towers; the armored knight and his rearing charger had to be almost life-sized upon that huge standard.  Armed soldiers in livery that matched that flag stood atop that wall, and next to the narrow opening that led into the keep.  These guards didn’t look as casual as the ones manning the city gates, and Bredan felt a disturbing sensation that they were watching _him_ specifically, even from across the square.

Even Glori seemed to hesitate in the face of that imposing edifice, but after a moment she squared her shoulders and said, “Well, we’re here, let’s go.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 80

Captain Roghan looked tired.  It wasn’t just the old scars that covered the right side of his face, or the fact that the arm resting on the low table in front of him ended abruptly at the wrist.  He wasn’t an especially old man, but he looked like a man who had seen a lot in recent days.

But if he sagged in his chair and looked like he could use a nap, the injured officer listened closely to their account and made the occasional note in the ledger book sitting next to his good arm.  He only asked a few clarifying questions before Glori had finished her account of their journey north, focusing on the humanoid bands that had been lurking around Northpine.

“Well, you did well in the south, sounds like, but the real threat is up here,” Roghan said.  “You’ve just missed the army, Prince Dalgran led them out three days ago, marching east to confront this would-be conqueror.  But we can use you.  Spellcasters are always needed, especially ones that can heal.”

He’d focused his attention on Glori and Quellan, after just a brief look of surprise when the half-orc had first come in.  Bredan he’d hardly glanced at since the interview had begun, and Kosk he’d dismissed as a curiosity.  From the look on the dwarf’s face he had a hardly better opinion of the officer.

It had taken them the better part of an hour to get this far, after explaining their mission and showing their letters of introduction to the guards at the main gate to the keep.  At first the soldiers hadn’t wanted to let them in, directing them to a mustering center back toward the city gates, but Glori had managed to talk her way to a harried sergeant, who turned them over to a lieutenant, who in turn had gotten them this meeting with the captain after a span spent sitting on a long bench in a tiny niche inside the keep.

“What can you tell us about the enemy army, Captain?” Bredan asked.  When the officer’s eyes flicked up they held nothing of the reassurance he’d offered Glori, and he quickly added, “We heard a lot of rumors on our way here.”

“You shouldn’t give credence to rumors,” Roghan said.  “The facts are grim enough.  A dozen villages and settlements have been hit, and twice as many have been evacuated.  We’re dealing with a real army, one that is surprisingly well-led and coordinated in its actions.”

The four adventurers shared a look.  “Is there a chance… that they might come here?” Bredan ventured.

Roghan snorted at that.  “That would be a stroke of luck for us.  You saw the walls coming in.  This Murgoth would be a fool indeed to let himself get trapped between the city and our army.”

Bredan didn’t say anything.  In the scenario he’d envisioned the army would have already been defeated, but he didn’t want to antagonize the officer further by suggesting that.

Roghan took a slip of parchment out of his folio and scribed something on it, pinning it under his stump while he wrote.  “This will serve as a pass until we can get you formally mustered in,” he said, handing over the slip to Glori.  “We’re building new units as recruits arrive, but with your skills you’ll likely be given a special assignment.  But it’s not likely you’ll see any fighting.  The goblins are mean little bastards, and their larger kin know how to fight, but we’ve raised an army the likes of which the north hasn’t seen in over a century.  Chances are this war will be over as soon as the Prince catches up to Murgoth’s hordes, assuming they don’t flee back into the mountains once they’re up against real soldiers.  Where are you staying in town?”

“We, ah, have not yet secured lodgings, captain,” Quellan said.

Roghan grunted.  “Well, we’ve got some room here now that the army’s moved out, but the accommodations may be a bit starker than you’re used to.  See the supply sergeant…”

“We’ll take rooms in the city,” Glori interjected.  “If we’re going to be waiting a while anyway.  We’ll send word once we’ve secured a spot.”

Roghan gave her a dubious look but made a notation in his book.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 81

“Well, kid, you’re in the army now,” Kosk said once they were back in the square outside the keep.  The sentries from before had been replaced by new ones, though they regarded them with hardly less suspicion than the others even considering that they’d come from inside the keep rather than from the city.

“That’s what we came here to do,” Bredan said.  “And besides, you’re in too.”

“That’s not what our letter said,” the dwarf said.  “We are here to provide support to the King’s efforts against the goblin-kin, but we didn’t come here to enlist.  Chances are we won’t see each other again once the folks in charge figure out what to do with you.”

Bredan looked troubled, but Quellan quickly interjected to stop the conversation from brewing into an argument.  “We should focus on what we have to do next,” the cleric said.  “With the city so crowded, it will likely be difficult to secure lodging…”

“The King’s Justice,” Glori said.  “It’s the nicest inn in Adelar.  It’s just a few blocks from the street we came in on, in the East District.”

Bredan blinked in surprise.  “I thought you said you’d never been here before,” he finally said.

“I haven’t,” she said.  “But unlike you, I talk to people, and I listen to what they say.”

“Well, we have money,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps a few nights in a good inn would be a pleasant…”

“You go on ahead,” Glori said.  “I have a few errands to run first.”

“Errands?” Bredan asked.  “But… you can’t go off into a strange city by yourself!”  At the look she gave him he quickly added, “None of us should.  With all these people… it could be dangerous,” he finished lamely.

“Bredan’s right,” Quellan said.  “Not suggesting that you cannot handle yourself, Glori, but it would be reckless to explore the city alone.”

“Fine, I’ll take Kosk,” she said.  Now it was the dwarf’s turn to look surprised, but his frown returned swiftly and he growled something that might have been assent.  “You two can go secure us rooms.  Just for tonight, first off.  I’ll probably be able to negotiate a better deal.”

“Then shouldn’t you go get the rooms?” Bredan suggested.

Glori put on an expression of exasperated patience.  “We don’t know how long it’ll be before these ‘orders’ come through.  There are some things I’d like to get taken care of right away.”

“Fine,” Bredan said.  “I’ve got things to do too.  I need to find a smith who knows how to work armor, and maybe get a new suit for Quellan.”

“I am fine for now,” Quellan said.  “But we will do as you suggest, Glori.  But what if there are no rooms available at this inn?”

“If that happens, I’ll meet you in the common room at supper time,” Glori suggested.  “We can decide what to do then.”  Without waiting to see if they had any other questions, she took Kosk by the arm and headed out into the city.  The dwarf shrugged off her grip after just a few steps, but he went along with her.

“I hope he knows what he’s gotten himself into,” Bredan muttered.

“She knows how to take care of herself,” Quellan said.  Bredan nodded, but the half-orc wasn’t looking at him, rather staring after Glori as she and Kosk disappeared into the crowd along the far edge of the square.

“Come on, I guess we’d better find that inn, or she’ll never let us hear the end of it,” Bredan said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 82

Bredan sat in the comfortable confines of a booth in the back of the inn.  He had a tall mug of ale in front of him, along with a plate of rolls daubed in honey, but he’d barely touched either.  He was distracted.

The King’s Justice had been crowded, like every other place in Adelar, but there had been a few rooms available on the uppermost floor, tucked in close under the eaves.  He was still amazed at how much they had cost—what he and Quellan had paid for two rooms would have rented out a comfortable house for a month in Crosspath.  As it was, Kosk would have to crawl over their beds to get to his, even though the men had the larger of the two rooms.  Maybe a few beds in the keep barracks wouldn’t have been so bad for all that.

It felt odd not being in his armor.  The smith they’d finally found had seemed capable enough, promising that he’d put the repairs to Bredan’s mail at the top of his queue after another not-so-small heap of coins changed hands, but he hadn’t had anything that could fit Quellan.  The smith had given them the name of another shop that handled heavier armor work elsewhere in the city, but they hadn’t had time to visit before their agreed-upon rendezvous.

Bredan leaned out of the booth.  It had curtains around the top to offer privacy, something he’d never seen before.  He could just see past a row of similar booths into the common room, which he had to admit was far nicer than any of the inns back home or on their journey here.  Rich wood paneling covered the walls, and all of the trim and fixtures were brass that had been polished until it seemed to glow.  There were no refugees with their haunted expressions, though even the well-dressed folk staying at the Justice had worry on their faces.  They talked in small groups over their drinks, their voices a quiet murmur, and they glanced nervously to the door anytime someone came in.

What Bredan didn’t see was Glori or Kosk.  It was still relatively early, though the serving women had already started bringing out platters of food from the kitchens.  The sight of a steaming platter reminded him how hungry he was, and he drew back into the booth and grabbed one of the honey buns.  It was still warm, and his first bite had him reconsidering how outrageous the inn’s prices were.  If this was how rich people lived, he could perhaps get used to it.

The bun was gone within two bites, and the ale he washed it down with was deliciously refreshing, but he wasn’t ready for a full meal, not yet.  Not if Glori and Kosk weren’t back, though he had no idea of how he would track them down if they did not show up.  He’d told the innkeeper he was expecting friends, told him to send them to him when they arrived, repeating himself until the fellow probably thought he was addlepated.  If they didn’t arrive soon he’d have to go looking for them.  He’d left his sword and his crossbow up in the room, but he could go get the blade at least.  He needed something smaller; maybe he’d pick up a dagger when they went to visit the second smith tomorrow.

He was reaching for a second bun when something smacked down onto the table in front of him, causing him to jump up out of his seat.  He turned to see Glori standing at the entry to the booth, grinning.  Kosk was right behind her, carrying a heavy sack under his arm.

“So there were rooms after all?” Glori asked.  “Nice place, eh?  Hey, where’s Quellan?”

Bredan answered the last question.  “There’s a chapel to Hosrenu just down the street.  After we left our stuff in our room he decided to pay them a visit.  This is from the banker?” he asked, nodding toward the purse she’d dropped onto the table.

“That, and this,” she said, reaching down to grab the sack from Kosk.  The table seemed to bow as she laid it on the wooden surface, and the way it clinked as its contents shifted confirmed what was inside.

“Why did you get it in silver?” Bredan asked.  The sack had to weigh twenty pounds.

Glori’s smile grew mischievous, and Bredan reached out and undid the tie holding the sack closed.  He felt a sudden thrill even before he opened it to see the bright glint of gold inside.

He quickly pulled it shut and rose up out of the booth to look around the edge of the curtains.  “Where did you… how… you walked around the city carrying this?”

“Calm yourself, boy,” Kosk said, edging past Glori to slide into the booth.  He grabbed Bredan’s ale and took a long pull.  “Nothing draws attention faster than looking like you’ve got something to hide.”

“This is a lot more than five hundred gold,” Bredan said.  Just saying that felt strange; a month ago five hundred gold would have felt like all the money in the world, and there was more than that sitting right in front of him right now.

“It’s just over twelve hundred,” Glori said.  “I sold the jade dagger we found in the Dry Hills, along with the moonstones we found in the ruin near Northpine, and a few other things I’ve been carrying around.  The inflated prices due to the war actually helped a bit, portable forms of wealth like gems are selling at a premium right now.”

“Your girl has a nose for barter,” Kosk said.  “Would have come in handy… back in the day.”

“So, how was your afternoon?” Glori asked, sliding into the booth next to Bredan.  He was still trying to figure out what to do with the sack, and finally Kosk yanked it back and dropped it onto the padded seat next to him.  “Did you find a place to fix your armor?”

“Yeah,” Bredan said.  “They didn’t have a new suit for Quellan, but I got the name of a place we can check out tomorrow.”

“Cool,” Glori said.  “Should we wait for him?  I’m starved.”

“I’m not waiting,” Kosk said through a mouthful of honeyed bun.  Bredan blinked; the other rolls had vanished while he’d been distracted.

“I’ll go get us a pitcher of ale and put an order in for supper,” Glori said.  “My treat,” she said, grabbing the fat purse with a wink.  But as she started to get up she smiled and waved.  “Quellan!  Over here!”

With the half-orc’s arrival the booth was crowded, but with a grunt Kosk slid over to make room for him.  Without his armor and wearing a plain robe the cleric looked different, though his bulk still caused the table to rattle a bit as he sat down.  “I’m glad we’re all together again,” Quellan said.  “This place… it’s rather chaotic.”

“Cities are great places for adventures,” Glori said.

“How was the temple?” Bredan asked.

“Quiet,” Quellan said.  “Peaceful.  I’d almost forgotten.  I spoke with the high priest.  They’ve been working with the other temples to help with the refugees.  Many people have fled their homes to escape the war.  They didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Could go south,” Kosk said, as he finished Bredan’s ale and let out a loud belch.

“That’s a long journey, and a difficult one,” Quellan said.  “Especially for people who are carrying everything they own with them.”

“Well, when the goblinoids are defeated, they can go home,” Bredan said.

“Okay, I’m going to get us some supper, before Kosk starts chewing on the table,” Glori said.

“Someone’s coming this way,” Bredan said.

They all turned to see a man walking down the line of booths, coming toward them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 83

The stranger was lean and handsome, with a short beard forming a neat fringe around the sharp lines of his jaw.  He wore a dark green coat with silver trim that was fit for a lord, but it failed to conceal the links of mail he wore under it or the slender sword with a well-worn hilt that rode on his hip.  He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat that he doffed as he reached their table.

“I beg your pardon for interrupting your repast,” the man said.  “My name is Golver Haran.  My friends call me Hari.”

“Can we help you, Golver Haran?” Kosk asked.  He grunted as Glori elbowed him.

“Say rather that I can help you, and you can help the King’s cause,” Haran said.

“I don’t understand,” Bredan said.  “We only just arrived in Adelar today.”

“Yes, I know,” Haran said.

“Best say what you mean, then,” Kosk said, after shooting Glori a look.  “We’ve had a long day and have not yet eaten.”

“Please, then, let me pay for your meal,” Haran said.  “It is the least I can do for your trouble.  And I suspect you will want to hear what I say.”

He made a gesture toward the front of the common room, and in a matter of minutes they were whisked into a small private dining room on the second floor of the inn.  Haran was obviously known here, and the innkeeper bowed to him as if he was in fact a lord, though his easy manner never slipped even with the servers who brought in platters of steaming food and pitchers of ale and wine.  For a while eating absorbed their full attention, and Haran joined them with as much gusto as Bredan, who ate as if he’d not consumed food since they’d left Crosspath.  Finally they all leaned back in their chairs, sated.  One of the servers brought a final course of sweet wine to settle their stomachs, placing the small cups on the table as their plates were cleared.

“Well, you have certainly earned our time,” Quellan said.  He’d eaten more modestly than the others, and he passed on the offered brandy.  “You mentioned helping the King’s cause?”

Haran waited until the last of the servers had left and closed the door behind them.  “Yes,” he said.  “I’m in charge of an expedition that is heading up into the mountains in a few days.  To the Silverpeak Valley.”  He paused a moment, but seeing no recognition on their faces went on, “It’s not anywhere near the invasion, it’s rather isolated from anything, actually.  It became important a few generations back when silver was discovered there.  The mining boom’s twenty years past, now, but there are still folk up there, a few scattered settlements and one proper town, Wildrush.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with us,” Glori said.

“Well, the expedition I’m leading is bringing supplies—the valley is mostly self-sufficient, but there’s things they need that they can’t make up there—but also soldiers to reinforce the garrison.  As I said, Silverpeak is isolated, but it’s still in the mountains, and it’s strategically important.  The goblinoids haven’t shown any interest in it, but it controls a pass that leads from the higher range down into the low country around Adelar.  Frankly, I can use your help.  Even with the reinforcements I’m bringing the garrison up there is just a token one, and few specialists with proven skills and a strong mettle is just the thing, I think.”  He downed his brandy and settled back with a grin.

Bredan glanced at the others.  “We’d like to help, but we’re waiting for orders,” he said.  “We’ve already signed in at the keep, and they said they’d been sending us instructions soon.”

“Wait no longer,” Haran said.  With a flourish he reached into his coat and produced a fold of parchment sealed with blue wax bearing a seal that matched the standard that flew over the city.

“Why didn’t you open with that?” Kosk said sourly.

Haran leaned forward and placed his arms on the table in front of him.  “I wanted to convince you,” he said.  “This mission may not seem important against the broader course of the war, but I assure you that it is.  The mountains are dangerous, especially with the bulk of the King’s army focused elsewhere.  I don’t know what you’ve learned about this Murgoth character and his army, but so far they’ve proven quite capable, good at surprising even the finest military minds in charge on our side.  And even if Silverpeak doesn’t turn out to be a major theater of the war, the folk there are good people, they deserve protection.”

“Thus far, the people of the north haven’t been especially welcoming,” Kosk said.

Haran regarded him for a moment.  “You seem like a man who understands what war can do to a people,” he said finally.  “But I’ll not lie, there are reasons why you might have had difficulty if you’d gone after the main army.  I don’t know what you’ve heard since you’ve only just gotten here, but it’s hardly a secret that both the elves and the dwarves have thus far refused to answer King Dangren’s call for aid.  It seems like the old treaties just don’t have the same power that they once did, or maybe it’s that they consider the north our problem.”

Kosk’s face was a thunderhead, but Quellan quickly interjected, “We’re not really interested in politics.  We truly just came to help.”

“Well, I do need your help, and the people of the Silverpeak do as well.  And from what I’ve been told, you know how to handle yourselves.  A priest would be particularly helpful up there.  I won’t lie and say there won’t be any reactions to your ancestry, but the folk of the Silverpeak are a diverse lot.  Up there, folks learn to judge a man on who he is, not what he is.”

Glori had slid the packet of orders across the table, and had been looking at it during the exchange.  “From this, it seems we are at your disposal, Captain Haran,” she said.  “You even managed to spell my name right,” she added with a quirk of her lips.  “But as my friend noted, we only just arrived, after quite a long journey.  We have a number of errands to attend to, including repairs to armor and a few other things.”

“That’s no problem,” Haran said, “take your time, as long as you are at the Square of Departures at dawn three days hence.  My understanding is that you don’t have horses, is that correct?”  At their nods he continued, “Just bring whatever fighting gear you have, the King will provide the rest.”  With a final smile he rose and adjusted his coat before leaning one last time over the table.  “Your tab will be paid through then.  Enjoy the hospitality of the Justice, the accommodations in the Silverpeak are a bit more… modest.  Until then, if you need to reach me just leave a message at the keep.  Gentlemen, madam.”  With a tilt of his hat, he left them as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Well,” Bredan said into the sudden silence.

“I don’t like that man,” Kosk said, before turning to Bredan and pointing to his untouched glass.  “You going to drink that?”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 84

The interior of the tiny shop was dingy and dim, the only light filtering through a small window that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.  The shop wasn’t that far from one of Adelar’s several busy squares, but its outer door opened onto a disused alley, not one of the busy streets that flowed with worried townsfolk and refugees from the war.

It seemed unlikely, however, that the shop would have seen more custom even if had been more favorably placed.  It was difficult to even tell what was on sale; the only merchandise on the narrow shelves consisted of an assortment of wooden boxes.  If the boxes themselves were the products then they clearly needed attention; even the best of them looked like they had been dropped off a wagon or left outside in the elements for a few weeks.

The same could be said for the old man who sat behind the counter.  His sagging flesh was all wrinkles and spots, and while his coat looked like it had once been decent it now had frayed edges at the cuffs and collar, as well as a large faded stain on the left shoulder the size of man’s fist.  He sat there eating shelled walnuts from a crumpled bag.  A curtain behind him led to a back room where even more boxes were visible, stacked into precarious-looking mounds.

The old man’s eyes flicked up when a shadow passed in front of the window, but there was a delay of ten heartbeats before the door swung open.  The new arrival also had the look of a merchant, but one of an entirely different class than the proprietor of the shop.  His coat had been recently pressed, and there were lines of golden thread at the cuffs, with ivory buttons carved into decorative spirals.  Enough of those buttons were undone to reveal that he wore two chains, one in silver and one in gold.  Each of those was likely worth more than anything in the shop, the old man included, but the shopkeeper’s eyes barely flicked over them before settling on the new arrival’s face.

“Master Markuin,” he said, his voice scratchy with age, or perhaps from disuse.  “What do you have for me today?”

“I made an interesting purchase recently,” Markuin said, turning to shut the door behind him.  His eyes registered distaste as they swept through the interior of the shop, but he made an effort to collect himself as he went over to the counter.  “Of the sort you are interested in.”

“Oh?” the shopkeeper said.  If he was interested he hid it well, shoving another handful of nuts into his mouth.  Bits of them fell out through the gaps in his teeth as he chewed.

Markuin seemed a bit put off by the other’s reaction.  “A young woman of part-elven heritage visited my shop the other day,” he said.  “She had some small pieces for sale.  Nothing special, for the most part, some decorative jewelry in silver, a small ivory statuette of a warrior.  But one item of note.  A knife, the blade a solid slab of jade, surrounded by a hilt made of bronze plates.  Quite old.”

The shopkeeper had reached into his bag, but as the other man spoke he drew his hand out and thrust the sack under the counter.  “You have my attention,” he said.  “The artifact… did you bring it?”

Markuin smirked, and gave the interior of the shop another evaluative look.  “I may give you the opportunity to make a bid on the item, in respect for our… past relationship, but it will be at a time and place of my choosing.”

The old man snorted.  “Tell me of this girl.  Where did she come from?  Did she say where she found the object?”

“My understanding is that this transaction involves some sort of renumeration,” Markuin said.

The shopkeeper regarded him for a long moment, then reached under his counter and produced a small leather pouch.  It clanked when it landed on the wooden surface.  Markuin snatched it up and undid the snap to look inside, then gave it an evaluative heft before tucking it into a pocket of his coat.  “She is a recent arrival, just came to the city a few days ago.  She and some companions journeyed north to join the King’s forces.  As to the artifact, she was somewhat cagey about that, but indicated that she and her friends had been looting ruins in the south.  From her accent I’d say not too far south, she didn’t have the coast on her tongue.”

“As if there’s anything to find down there,” the old man said.  “How much did you give her for the artifact?”

“I offered three hundred, but allowed her to bargain me up to four.  Perhaps a bit high for the raw materials, but she seemed to have some understanding of its… historical value.”

“Where is she staying, this girl?”

“How should I know?  I got the impression she did not expect to remain in the city long.  She may be gone now, for all I know, off to join the fools’ crusade.”

The old man’s jaw clenched, but with an effort he loosened it and nodded.  “Let me know when you are ready to sell.  I will make you a fair offer for the item.”

Markuin made a slight bow, but the awakened greed was already clear in his eyes as he turned to leave.  The door creaked as it swung shut behind him, and a moment later the shadow of his passage slid past the window.  But the shopkeeper waited a full fifty heartbeats before he said, “Did you hear all that?”

The curtain shifted and a hulking figure that barely fit through the doorway slid into the room.  In the deep shadows away from the window his face wasn’t quite visible, but he looked like he could have picked up the old man and snapped him in two without straining.  He didn’t say anything, just stood there looming in silence.

The shopkeeper didn’t even glance at him, he just looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Tonight,” he finally said.  “Make it look like an accident.  Take nothing but the key.”

“The girl?” the giant rumbled.

“Leave her to me,” the old man said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 85

Kurok stood in the narrow entrance to Scar Canyon.  He was tired and hungry, and wanted nothing more than to avail himself of the hospitality, limited though it might be, of Usk’s people.  But he could not shake the feeling that something was off.

From where he stood he could see the feature that gave the place its name, the jagged fifty-foot cliffs that looked as though they had been hewn from the surrounding rock by a giant serrated knife.  He could only see a handful of the hundreds of hundreds if not thousands of caves that pocked those cliffs, extending along the canyon for almost a mile before they ended in an almost sheer drop into an even deeper canyon below.  It was said that creatures of Shadow dwelt within that hole, in places where the light of the sun never reached.

Kurok had no fear of shadows, but he was beginning to suspect that something was wrong here.

He made his way forward cautiously, staying close to one of the almost sheer walls of stone that flanked the trail leading into the Scar.  Usk’s people should have seen him by now, should have seen him coming before he’d approached the mouth of the canyon, but the caves he could see were dark and empty.

He’d only advanced maybe fifteen or twenty steps before he found something.  The route into the canyon was not perfectly straight, and there were numerous places where one of the surrounding walls curved inward or bent around some protruding obstacle.  Behind one such obstacle, a sharp jut of granite buried in the ground like the point of a massive spearhead, were several bodies.

He smelled them before he saw them, but neither until he was almost on top of them.  They had been dead for a few days at least, but it was difficult to tell more from a casual glance, even how many there had been.  The bodies had been… _melted_ seemed to be the closest word that fit.  Pale white bones jutted up from the tangled mess.  The surrounding rocks were discolored, likely from splashes of whatever had killed them.

His senses on high alert now, Kurok crept closer and bent over the remains for a closer examination.  The gashes in his hip twinged in pain as he knelt, but he quashed the feeling with an effort of will.  A small pack of crag cats had decided to make a meal of him a few nights back.  He’d dealt with them, but the minor wounds he’d suffered had been an annoyance.  Had he not been in a hurry he would have made a coat from their hides, a reminder to the other predators of the mountains that he was not to be trifled with.  Another annoyance.

He felt no fear as he examined the bodies, but he was starting to wonder if he would find anything left of those he had come here to meet.  There wasn’t enough evidence for him to conclusively identify what had done this killing, but could make a few educated guesses.

He resumed his progress down into the canyon.  At one point he heard a sharp cry from somewhere high above, a deep sound that echoed off the surrounding walls.  Kurok tensed and slipped deeper into the shadows along the cliff wall, but the cry was not repeated.  It did not sound like the source had been close, but it confirmed one of his suspicions.

After a moment he started forward again, moving faster now, stealth replaced by speed.  His weariness and wounds did not slow him, not after the jolt that shriek had given him.

He passed the outermost caves, glancing at them only to confirm that the sentries that he had expected were not present.  He’d never been to the Scar, but he’d seen maps, and knew that the deeper caves that connected to the underground complex were further in.  The nearest of those was a good ten feet off the ground, accessed by a narrow ramp that left anyone approaching completely exposed to attack from other caves higher up.  No attacks came, which was not unexpected.

He had to bend low to fit into the cave, but after the entry it grew a bit more spacious.  A familiar scent greeted him, not the foul stink of death from earlier but the earthier air of those he had come to meet.  It might have been old, but he didn’t think so.  He thought he could smell something else on the air, a tangible waft of fear.  It might have been a projection of his own desires, but he didn’t think so.

The cave sloped down slightly as he made his way deeper, then widened at the end into a proper corridor.  There was a small niche there, and as he started to turn into the passage a figure emerged from the darkness and lunged at him with a spear.

He almost blasted the attacker by instinct before his brain took over.  Dodging back out of the way of the clumsy thrust, he pointed a finger and said, _“Halt”_.

His attacker froze.  It was a goblin, the creature’s eyes wide with fear.

“Do you know who I am?”  The goblin could barely shake its head, and Kurok said, “I am of the Blooded.”

If the goblin had been afraid before, now it trembled with terror.  As the effects of Kurok’s _command_ faded it collapsed to the ground in front of him, all but throwing its spear away.  “Forgive me, great one!” it squealed.  “I did not know!”

Kurok gave the creature a desultory kick with his boot, not enough to injure it severely.  “Get up,” he said.  “I want you to take me to Usk Bloodrider.”

* * *

Author's Note: Earlier I had posted a note that I would be taking a break from this story during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I’m going to start the hiatus in October, so there won’t be any new posts in October or November. I do intend to wrap up the story and already have most of the Silverpeak Valley arc completed in draft. I will probably end at least the ENWorld part of the story with Book 6 (we’re in the middle of Book 4 right now). I’ve been keeping notes for how I might convert these stories into novels (mostly removing all of the game-specific content and trimming down the random encounters), so that might be option down the road.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 86

The cavern was spacious, but it seemed smaller crowded with dozens of goblins and their _companions_ squeezed close together within.  The stench struck with the force of a physical blow, but Kurok had long since disciplined himself to ignore such things.

It was harder to ignore the eyes that watched his every move, or the look from the goblin seated on the broad stone seat in front of him.  Usk Bloodrider was half Kurok’s size, but the goblin otherwise looked as tough as a wire-bristle brush.  His bare torso was covered in a web work of old scars, but even more imposing was the massive worg that sat on the floor next to his seat.  The creature lifted its head slightly so that Usk could scratch it, while its red eyes never shifted from Kurok’s as its master continued his account of why his forces had not reported in to Murgoth’s muster of armies.

“The beast arrived a few weeks ago,” Usk said.  “At first we thought it just a wanderer, but it established itself in one of the crags that surround the Scar, high above the canyon floor.  It clearly has laid claim to this place.”

“You have weapons,” Kurok said.

A slight rumble started in the crowd at that, but it quieted as soon as Usk held up a fist.  “Yes.  Slings, and bows, and sharp spears.  As well as the teeth of our friends.”  He rubbed behind one of the worg’s ears.  The creature likely could have torn the goblin’s arm from his body with one sharp jerk, but it tilted its head slightly to give him better access.  “The beast remains out of range of even our best archers.  It breathes acid death or drops boulders.  It has chased scouts for miles and miles, able to see even the slightest movement from its chosen heights.  The Bloodriders are loyal to Murgoth, but what good would it do for us to set out, only to be destroyed before we can get to him?”

“I will deal with the creature,” Kurok said.

That comment created an even greater stir, and this time Usk did not attempt to cut it off.  The goblin chief gave Kurok an evaluative look.  “You are Blooded,” he finally said.  The din quieted as those around the stone chair tried to listen.  “But this creature is a great enemy.”

“Just show me where it dwells,” Kurok said.  “If I fail, you have lost nothing.  But if I succeed, then I ask that you honor your commitment to Warlord Murgoth.”

The room remained quiet as Usk considered, but the tension was almost palpable.  “We will show you,” he finally said.

* * *

Kurok’s boots crunched on bits of loose stone as he trudged up the steep slope.  It was clear that others had come this way before, likely goblin scouts taking advantage of the height to stand sentry, but none of those signs were recent.  But there were other, fresher signs, deep gouges in the rock or discolored patches where the stone had been eaten away.  At one point he saw a goblin skull sitting on a boulder as though watching him.  He flicked it away, and it tumbled off a few rocks before vanishing into the depths of the canyon below.  He could not hear the sound its impact over the soft rush of the wind in his ears.

Unfortunately that constant blowing meant that he might not hear the sound of something approaching until it was too late.  Kurok had to school himself to ignore the prickling feeling of being watched.  He didn’t care to delude himself that his approach had gone unnoticed, but he wouldn’t betray anything other than determination.

The clouds in the sky above had parted and the late afternoon sunshine shone brightly on his shrouded form, making him sweat under his cloak.  He had briefly considered waiting for nightfall to make his approach, but that idea had been quickly discarded.  He was a creature of shadows, but the foe he hunted could see in the dark far better than he could, even with his gifts.

The trail he followed curved to the right before straightening into a sharp ascent that rose between two massive blocks of stone.  The crevice seemed tiny from a distance, but he doubted that it would offer much protection.  Kurok paused a moment to take a drink from his water flask then resumed his ascent, careful of the loose rocks that littered the route.  A fall would undermine the effect he was trying to cultivate, but it could also prove fatal; the distance between the edge of the path and the drop into the canyon was one he could have covered in two strides.

He reached the shelter of the cleft without incident.  It was cooler out of the direct sunlight, even cold as the wind froze the sweat on his face and neck.  The opening was narrow at the bottom but widened to maybe ten paces across at the top.  He could see where it ended maybe two hundred paces ahead.  From Usk’s instructions he knew that the cleft opened onto another exposed ascent that rose another few hundred paces more before culminating in a spire of naked rock.  There was an overhang there, a protected niche where the goblins used to keep a watch.  Now, according to Usk’s scouts, it was where their tormentor had chosen to make its lair.

Kurok paused ten steps into the cleft to listen.  The wind made a slight whistling sound as it traveled through the gap between the stones, but other than that there was nothing.  But the feeling of being watched had redoubled, almost like an itch that crept slowly up his spine.

Kurok reached into his pouch and took out a small wooden case.  It opened to reveal two rows of tiny vials in padded niches.  He took one out and dropped it into a pocket of his cloak, then replaced the case.  The walls felt like they were pressing slowly closer as he resumed his march.

He had only covered a fraction of the distance to the reassuring brightness at the end of the cleft when he heard something over the wind.  At first it sounded like a sudden gust, a subtle shift in the breeze, but then it was accompanied by a sharper sound, like a massive bellows being worked.  It grew louder quickly.  At first it sounded as though it was coming from everywhere, but as the source approached he could tell it was coming from behind him.

He turned around.  He took out the vial and drank its contents.  He nearly tossed the empty container aside but finally tucked it back into his pocket.  He folded his arms together under his cloak and waited.

He did not have to wait more than a second or two.  The sounds of rushing air and the pulses of the giant bellows built to a crescendo before a dark form materialized above.  It was just a shadow at first, but then a huge winged figure swept out over the slash of blue at the top of the cleft, pivoting smoothly in mid-air before it dropped into the gap at the entrance that Kurok had just passed under just moments ago.  It easily filled the full breadth of the opening, its claws seizing hold of the surrounding stone and tearing out divots that rained shards of rock down onto the ground below.  A few of those fist-sized bits of debris struck within five paces of where Kurok stood.

The hobgoblin warlock stared up at the creature.  It was a dragon, its hide the bright copper of freshly-minted coins.  As it drew its wings closer around its body it lowered its neck to fix its eyes on the hobgoblin standing below it.  It opened its jaws and let out an earth-shaking roar.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 87

The copper dragon was a young specimen by its size and the brightness of its scales, but it was no less imposing for that.  As the echoes of its roar continued to sound down the length of the ravine it watched Kurok expectantly.  No doubt it thought him paralyzed with terror.  Kurok had been trained to control his fear, but even Murgoth himself likely would have been impressed by the creature’s sudden appearance and display of power.

He drew back his hood and with a flourish of his cloak sketched a deep bow.  “I greet you, Mighty One.”

The dragon couldn’t express the range of facial expressions of a humanoid, but it seemed taken aback by the gesture.  “You speak my language.”

“I have only a modest talent in Draconic, Mighty One,” Kurok said.

“Your speak better than your filthy kin,” the dragon growled.  “What is your name, little hobgoblin?”

“I am called Kurok.  May I have the honor of knowing who I address, Mighty One?”

“You may address me as Carthadantilis,” the dragon said.  “Or simply ‘Carth,’ if your small brain cannot encompass the whole.”

“You honor me,” Kurok said, with another small flourish.  He was careful to keep his arms clear of his body, and his hands open.  “I have come seeking parlay.”

“What interest could one such as I have in your concerns?” the dragon said.

“That is for you to decide, mighty Carth.”

“Speak, then, and be done with it.  My time is valuable.”

“By your command, I will speak plainly.  This is not your place.  You have come far from the hills that are your home, and the lair you have chosen is already the property of another.”

The dragon lashed its tail, its anger obvious.  More bits of stone rattled down around Kurok, a few pieces bouncing off his body.  “Who are you to tell me where to make my home?  I go where I want, hobgoblin!”

“You cannot stay here,” Kurok said.

For a moment the dragon just stared at him, then its eyes narrowed.  “And _you_ are going to stop me?”

“You are powerful, Carthadantilis,” Kurok said.  “But young, as age among your kind is reckoned.  And I am not as helpless as I may seem.”  He didn’t move his arms, spread wide outside his cloak, but a stream of energy flashed from the right, blasting a line from the cliff wall beside him.  The suddenness of it drew a reaction from the dragon; a shifting of its clawed limbs that was too significant to be an accident, yet it recovered its equanimity swiftly.

“Do you think to frighten me with your paltry powers?” Carth rumbled.  The cliff walls seemed to shake with the threat in the dragon’s voice.

“Unlike you, I have done nothing to attempt to frighten or intimidate you,” Kurok said.  “I am only letting you know that I am prepared for this confrontation.  You will find that your acidic breath will not affect me as much as it did your former victims, and in the narrow confines of this cleft you may find it difficult to bring your superior size and speed fully to bear.”

The dragon’s eyes flicked to left and right as though considering.  “You cannot remain in this place forever,” he said.

“I do not intend to,” Kurok said.  “It was you who initiated this confrontation.  If we do battle, one of us will be destroyed.  Perhaps it will be me, perhaps you.  I have already acknowledged that you are a mighty foe indeed, perhaps greater than the others I have faced.  But know this, dragon.  If you defeat me, others will come.  They will keep on coming until your corpse is rotting in the floor of one of these canyons.  These lands belong to Kavel Murgoth, and he does not suffer trespassers.”

“I have heard that name,” Carth said.  “I am not impressed.  The world is full of hobgoblin warlords, another hardly makes a difference.”

“I am not trying to impress you,” Kurok said even before the dragon had fully finished.  “Murgoth commands armies, but beyond that, he has the allegiance of a cadre of spellcasters, masters of arcane and divine magics.  I am only the first of those you will face, and am not the strongest of those by far.  Do you really want to build a lair—to start a life—in a place where every hand is turned against you?  A foe that will keep on coming, no matter how many you kill?”

The dragon drew up, spreading as wings as far as the narrow confines of the cleft would permit, a barely-visible plume of noxious vapors rising from his nostrils.  “I will not take orders from the likes of you,” Carth said.

“I am only letting you know what you face,” Kurok said.  “You are the intruder here.  From my perspective you are a killer, a thief.  I have come here openly and I have showed you the respect you deserve.  But I will not back down.  None of my kind will.”

“You have a great deal of pride for such a small creature,” Carth said.  “But if you know anything of dragonkind, you know that we do not back down either.”

Kurok nodded.  “That I have heard,” he said.  “One final thing to consider, then.  My orders direct me to leave this place swiftly for the west—assuming I survive this encounter, of course.  I intend to take the bulk of the goblin tribe that dwell within this canyon with me, including all of the worg riders and their mounts.  As for what happens after I leave… well, as I said, these lands belong to Kavel Murgoth, but his attention is focused elsewhere, for the moment.  Should I accomplish my mission, it is doubtful that anyone will care what happens here.”

The dragon regarded him for a stretch of time that might have discomfited an average person, but Kurok only stood there waiting.  “You disgust me,” Carth finally said.

“I am not interested in your regard,” Kurok said.  “I will have your decision.”  He shifted, only slightly, but there was a clear threat in it.

The dragon lifted itself on its hind legs and spread its wings again.  “I grow weary of hunting goblinoids.  Your flesh is stringy and foul-tasting.  It may be a day or two before I return.  Pray to your gods that we do not meet again, little hobgoblin, for on that day one of us will meet his end.”

Kurok didn’t move as the dragon dove backwards off the cleft, twisting its body around until its wings could spread fully to catch the air.  It swept out over the canyon, briefly dropping out of view before it emerged again, rising to the north before it disappeared behind one of the far peaks.  Kurok remained where he was until it was fully gone, then he took a deep breath and let it out.  But he allowed himself only a moment’s rest before he started back the way he had come.  He had a long hike ahead of him, and Usk would need time to make preparations for the clan’s departure.


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## carborundum

Lazybones said:


> Chapter 87
> 
> “I am not interested in your regard,” Kurok said.  “I will have your decision.”  He shifted, only slightly, but there was a clear threat in it.



That's an intimidating hobgoblin


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## Lazybones

I enjoy writing villains almost as much as I do the heroes.  Even in just his first few scenes Kurok has gotten a lot more complicated than my original outline, and there are some more twists to come...

* * * 

Chapter 88

Bredan let out a sigh of relief as he relieved himself into a knot of bushes.  It was not an easy procedure in armor, complicated by the fact that he’d been on the back of a horse for most of the morning.

When he was done he turned and made his way quickly back to where he’d left the animal that Haran had lent him.  The horse was cropping weeds but at his approach its head came up and it peered at him with what Bredan thought was a suspicious look.  The two had not gotten along especially well for the journey thus far.  At least the pain in his legs and back had started to ease up.  Bredan had ridden a horse before, but not for days on end, and it was hardly something he was used to.

“It’s easy for you,” he told the animal as he unfastened the reins from the branch where he’d left them.  “You can go whenever you want.”

He was able to mount without difficulty, though not without a grimace as the movement awakened a fresh twinge in his thighs.  His pause hadn’t taken very long, but the last of the wagons had already rumbled past, the caravan making good time despite the poor quality of the road.  They had already risen out of the plains that surrounded the city, moving into hills that caused the road to weave and curve, sometimes bending almost back on itself as it navigated particularly difficult obstacles.  But as Bredan glanced up at the mountains ahead, a line of peaks that had drawn closer with each passing day since they had left Adelar, he knew that their progress would be slowing even further soon enough.

His mount—he hadn’t given the animal a name yet—carried him swiftly past the line of wagons, the horse nodding its head as if mocking the lesser beasts pulling the vehicles.  The four wagons each had a four-horse team, and each was piled high with supplies and gear.

“Did you have a nice piss?” Glori yelled out as he rode past.  Harvin, the old driver beside her on the wagon seat, let out an amused snort.  All of Haran’s drivers were like him, men as old and gnarled as these hills, but they all knew their business and they’d escaped anything worse than minor delays as the inevitable parts broke or horses threw shoes.  Bredan figured that most of the young men were probably all off with the Prince and his men, hunting down Murgoth’s invading army.  He responded to Glori’s comment with a rude gesture and rode on.

On the next wagon, the driver looked tiny in contrast to the man seated next to him.  Quellan looked even more imposing in his new armor, the suit of half-plate giving the half-orc a warrior’s mettle.  They had been lucky to find a suit that would fit him.  The armorer hadn’t been that clear about where he’d gotten it, but the subtle signs of wear and recent repairs suggested that its previous owner might not have fared so well as the armor.  Even with the damage it had cost most of Quellan’s and Kosk’s shares from the Northpine treasure combined.  Bredan had settled for having his own mail repaired.  Quellan had offered to yield him the plate, but even if they’d had time to adjust it to fit his rather smaller frame he preferred his chain.  He was used to it, and it reminded him of his father.

Quellan waved and offered him a smile as Bredan rode past.  Orrek, the driver, seemed to shrivel in his seat, and Bredan wondered if Quellan knew the effect his smile had on the man.  He hoped not; the cleric was sensitive to the impression he had on people.

The next two wagons had Haran’s men riding sentry beside the drivers, the guards clad in long leather coats covered in metal studs, with crossbows cradled in their laps with bolts close at hand.  Bredan wasn’t surprised not to see Kosk; the dwarf spent as much time walking as riding on the wagons, and yet somehow he seemed to have no difficulty keeping up even in the straighter stretches where the wagons could build up a bit of speed.

One corner of the tarp that protected the bed of the lead wagon had started to come loose from its moorings, and Bredan pointed it out to Willem, the guard, as he drew up alongside the front of the wagon.  That wagon carried perhaps the most important cargo: among the tools and other supplies it carried were several dozen bow staves and crossbows wrapped in oilcloth and packed in crates and a number of barrels full of carefully-wrapped bundles of arrows and bolts.

And then he was past, ahead of their little caravan and the fountain of dust raised by the wagons.  Haran and the three soldiers he’d brought with him were at the front of the column, just far enough ahead that they could spot any danger before it threatened the wagons.  The leader of the expedition was riding close to his scout, the only non-human among the men he’d brought from Adelar.  Gilanis was a wood elf, his shaggy mountain pony a good five hands shorter than the bigger horses the other men rode, but the animal was sure-footed and managed slopes that Bredan might not have tried even on foot.
Haran turned as Bredan rode back up to the vanguard and grinned at him.  Gilanis rode on ahead, no doubt to resume his scouting duties.  The elf seemed to cover twice as much ground as the rest of them each day, but neither he nor his mount complained.  “You holding up okay?” Haran asked.

“I think my blisters are getting blisters, but I’m all right,” Bredan said.  “I thought I was in good shape from working in the forge, but riding all day takes some getting used to.”

“Different muscles,” Haran said.  “You could always take a spell in the wagons.  I bet your friend wouldn’t mind riding.”

The look when he glanced back made it clear who he was talking about, but Bredan still had to suppress a laugh as the image of Quellan upon his horse flashed in his mind.  It would serve the animal right for their initial troubles, Bredan thought.  “I’m sure she’s good at it,” he said ruefully.  Glori hadn’t complained when Haran had told them that he only had one extra horse, or when he’d offered it to Bredan, but there had been something in her eyes that suggested that she was entirely aware of the effects a few days in the saddle would have on him.  “You had said that there’s a village up ahead?”

“Camber’s Rise,” Haran said.  “It’s the last settlement of note between us and the mountains.  It’s been evacuated, but at least there’s shelter.”

“Evacuated?” Bredan asked.  “I thought that the goblins hadn’t raised this far west.”

“They haven’t yet, but all of the smaller settlements in the foothills were encouraged to evacuate.  There are too many hamlets and small holds in these hills to protect.”

“So that’s why Adelar seemed so crowded,” Bredan said.  “How long can the Baron keep them all fed?”

“Long enough for the army to confront Murgoth’s legions and wipe them out,” Haran said.  He sounded confident, but out here, alone in the shadow of the mountains with just a few wagons and a handful of armed men, Bredan felt less certain.

“From Camber’s Rise it should take us three days to reach the Silverpeak,” Haran continued.  “We’ll need to keep an eye out, as there are always dangers this far from the plains country, but if we’re lucky we’ll be through these mountains and arriving at the valley before you know it.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 89

As he stared down the slope at the remains of Camber’s Rise, Bredan didn’t feel especially lucky.

The place had been tiny, just half a dozen wooden structures around a larger stone building, not quite a tower, in the center.  The latter was the only place left standing, and even then there wasn’t much left but a hollow shell.

He could smell the acrid stink of char on the air, but he guessed this was old, maybe a week, maybe more.

“A good thing they evacuated,” Glori said.  Bredan almost jumped; he hadn’t heard her approach.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Look, Gilanis is coming back, let’s see what he has to say.”

Quellan and Kosk joined them as they headed over to where Haran was waiting for the scout.  The drivers and the rest of the soldiers had remained with the wagons, a bowshot back along the road.  Kosk looked sour, as though he’d expected to see something like this all along.  Quellan looked concerned, though he’d agreed to wait for the elf’s report on Haran’s assurance that there hadn’t been anyone here when trouble had arrived.

The adventurers reached Haran just as the scout did, but the expedition leader didn’t seem to mind them hearing Gilanis’s report.  The elf had his short bow strung but he had tucked his arrow back into the quiver on his hip.

“This happened six or seven days past,” he said.  “A small group.  They came from the east and returned that way after they were done.  They stayed long enough to be thorough, but it doesn’t look like there was much left worth taking.”

“Goblins?” Bredan asked.

“Difficult to be sure,” Gilanis said.  “That squall that blew through a few days back made a mess of the tracks.  Definitely humanoid, but I cannot be more specific.”

Haran looked thoughtful.  “All right,” he said.  “We’ll bivouac next to the stone structure tonight, that’ll offer some shelter should our friends decide to stage an encore.  But I’m sure they’re far away by now.”

“Will you send word back to Adelar?” Quellan asked.

Haran shook his head.  “I can’t spare anyone,” he said.  “We’ll watch in double shifts tonight.  Gil, take a circuit around the area, see if you can find anything else.”  The elf nodded and ran over to where he’d left his horse.  “I’ll go tell the others, and then we can start setting up camp,” Haran added, then trudged back up the rise to the line of wagons.

“I guess we might not be as far away from the war as we thought,” Glori said.

* * *

Even with worries of waking to rampaging goblins rushing through the camp, Bredan dropped off into a hard sleep as soon as he finished his shift on watch and didn’t stir until Willem shook his shoulder roughly the next morning.  For a moment he was still caught in the edges of whatever dream he’d been having, then it faded as his aches and weariness rushed back in.  With a groan he pulled himself up out of his bedroll and began putting on his armor.

The members of the expedition were well used to working together by now, and the caravan rumbled its way back onto the road even before the sun had fully crested the uneven line of hills to the east.  Maybe they were even a bit faster than usual; all of them seemed eager to leave the wreckage of the burned settlement behind them.

At first the road leading up from Camber’s Rise was barely more difficult than the one winding through the foothills, but by midmorning the ascent grew steeper, the surrounding terrain more challenging.  The road was obviously not traveled frequently, and as the day grew older they had to pause more frequently to clear away obstacles.  Most of the time that was fallen rocks that could hazard the wagons, but in one case an entire tree had slumped over to block the road and had to be cleared with axes and ropes before they could proceed.  Fortunately they had brought everything needed with them, including spare wheels for the wagons and an assortment of tools, but Haran still had them be careful with their resources.

The road frequently bent back upon itself as it gained altitude, and at one such bend Bredan paused and looked down over the edge to see the ruined tower of Camber’s Rise in the distance below.  It didn’t look all that far away for the hours they’d already put in.

Occasionally the road widened as it passed along a level stretch or made its way through a broad gap between peaks.  At one such spot they paused for lunch, to tend to the horses, and stretch their legs.  Given how slow their progress had been thus far, Bredan wondered if they would make it to the Silverpeak Valley within the time that Haran had predicted.  Given the nature of the trip, he wondered why anyone would bother to come this way at all.  There had been silver, thus the name, but Bredan thought it would take more than money to make him want to come all the way out here to live.  And now there wasn’t even the silver, and yet people remained.

Shortly after their break the road turned deeper into the range and they left their view of the foothills behind.  They were now within the forest of peaks that they’d seen approaching since leaving Adelar, but every time they passed one there were other, taller ones ahead to greet them.  Haran had them remain closer together now, the outriders and wagon crews alike alert to any signs of danger.  They remained well below the bare granite summits of those mountains, but even in the vales between them there were plenty of hazards to navigate.  The road wound through dense forests and rocky dells, and at several places they had to ford streams where the fast-moving water came up to their horses’ knees and the wagons’ axles.  They took those crossings slowly; that was not a place where one wanted to foul a wheel.  But they made their way across safely, pausing only to top off their water barrels before moving on.

They were making their way up yet another slow ascent—thankfully, none of them had been as steep as the initial climb that morning—when they came to another obstacle.  The sun was almost touching the tallest of the peaks to the west and Bredan was thinking of dinner when they came around a bend to see a boulder the size of a cottage blocking the road ahead.

Haran immediately called a halt, and the wagons ground to a stop about thirty paces behind the lead riders.  They were at an exposed but not particularly difficult spot, with a steep but manageable slope rising fifty paces to a boulder-encrusted crest on their left and a somewhat sharper descent into a densely wooded dell to their right.  Both sides of the road were overgrown with dense tangles of brush, but there were only a few trees nearby, struggling to find purchase in the stony soil.

Haran signaled to two of his men.  “Gilanis, Kors, check ahead a bit.  Make sure there aren’t any surprises.”  The elf and the big human soldier offered salutes and nudged their horses forward.

“We’re not moving that,” Bredan said.  He glanced back and saw that the wagon crews were watching.  Some of the guards had dismounted, but they would stay with the wagons until Haran signaled them forward.  He caught a glimpse of Glori, standing on the bed of the rearmost wagon.

“No,” Haran agreed.  “We’ll have to cut a bypass.  Easier on the right, but only if there’s enough clearance.”

“Yeah, if a wheel slips, it’s a long way down,” Bredan said, peering over the drop a few paces beyond the edge of the road.

“We’d better start breaking out the shovels and axes,” Haran said.  He turned to gesture toward the wagons, but hesitated as a shout of alarm came from around the boulder, accompanied by a loud whinny that was abruptly cut off.

The riders reached for their weapons even as Haran opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he could speak a loud rumbling cut him off.  The sound came from a torrent of rocks that was pouring down the slope.  The riders and their animals flinched in reflexive alarm, but the focus of the slide was behind them, back toward the wagons.  The crews took cover as the bouncing rocks reached them.  The teams looked to be in more danger, with no room for the horses to evade, but the collapse wasn’t as bad as it had looked.  By the time it reached the road most of its force was spent, and only the rearmost wagon was damaged as a boulder the size of a man’s torso slammed hard into one of its front wheels.

Bredan had pulled his horse around to go help them when another shout had him turning back toward the huge boulder ahead.  A projectile came flying over the giant stone.  It twisted awkwardly in the air before plummeting down toward the riders.  Bredan barely had a chance to tug his horse aside before it slammed down into the packed surface of the road.  He stared down at it in surprise.

It was Gilanis, his neck obviously snapped.  The elf’s face was frozen in a look of surprise.

“Enemies!” Haran was yelling, yanking Bredan’s attention back up.  The expedition leader was pointing with his spear up the slope, where the source of the rockslide had revealed itself.  Bredan had never before seen the three hulking forms that emerged from positions of cover atop the ridge, but he had heard enough stories to be able to identify them.  From the cries of alarm among the riders and the wagon crews, he wasn’t the only one.

“Ogres!” he breathed.  The three brutes immediately started down the slope toward the wagons, launching fresh tumbles of rocks ahead of them with each step.

Bredan’s wild tugging on his reins had spun him and the animal completely around, so he was still facing the boulder when the full nature of their situation became apparent a moment later.  Another foe came into view, one that made the ogres seem a meager threat by comparison.  For a moment Bredan had a wild flash that somehow it was the cyclops returned, but this creature had two eyes, dark beads under a protruding brow.

The hill giant was holding Kors in his hands.  The human warrior looked like a child’s doll in its grasp.  The ground shook as it trudged around the massive boulder, which barely came to its shoulder.  Haran was shouting something, no doubt issuing orders, but all Bredan could hear was the pounding of his heart.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the giant as it fixed its stare on him, then almost casually snapped Kors’s back and tossed him out over the chasm.  The broken man seemed to hang in the air for a split second and then dropped out of view.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 90

As soon as Kors vanished, Bredan blinked as if coming out of a dream.  The giant still filled his vision, the hulking creature somehow more horrible than even the cyclops, but it made no move toward them.  As he watched it reached into its bag and drew out something.  Bredan could see that it was a rock twice the size of a man’s head.

A scream yanked his head around, and he saw that his companions had already moved to engage the ogres.  Haran and the last of the riders, an old veteran everyone called Ironjaw, were already fighting one of the huge creatures.  Mounted they were almost as tall as the things, but as he watched the ogre shrugged off a thrust from Ironjaw’s sword as if it was nothing.  The ogre lunged forward and toppled the man off his horse, animal and rider crashing to the ground together with bone-jarring force.  Haran drove his spear into the ogre’s side, causing it to scream in rage.  It reared back and tried to sweep him from his saddle with its massive club, but with an expert tug on his reins the rider pulled just barely back out of its reach.  But there was a second ogre already rushing forward to pin him between it and its companion.  Bredan could just make out the last one further back among the wagons.  For a split second he caught a glimpse of Quellan, for once the half-orc looking small against the sheer bulk of his enemy.

Bredan absorbed the whole scene in an instant, but even that momentary distraction cost him.  He spun back to see the giant’s arm already raised, the boulder cupped in its huge fist.  He was kicking the horse’s flanks but the animal, no doubt possessing more sense than him, was already moving.  He hardly had to tug the reins at all; the horse was clearly willing to go anywhere as long as it wasn’t closer to the giant.

Bredan tried to reach for his sword, but he had to focus all his efforts on staying atop the horse.  He tried to think himself small, trying not to think of that huge arm coming forward…

Even expecting it, the impact came as a surprise.  One moment he was atop the horse, charging back toward the wagons, the next he was flying through the air.  He barely had a chance to realize that something had changed before the ground rushed up to meet him.  He slammed into the hard surface with enough force to knock the wind from his body, and his face struck the ground hard enough to embed bits of gravel into his skin.

A voice in his skull that sounded like his uncle was yelling, _Get up!_ but it was all he could manage to lift his head a bit.  That was enough to see a grim sight; one of the ogres, the one that Haran had wounded, looking hardly the worse for wear as it slammed its club down two-handed into Ironjaw’s body.  The soldier, still trapped under his fallen horse, had no chance.  The blow killed both of them, and when the club came back up it was messy with their blood.  A spray of it covered the ogre’s face, giving the creature’s features the look of a garish mask.  Its jaws cracked open in a grim smile as it fixed its eyes on Bredan, then it started forward toward him.

The lead wagon burst into flames.

It wasn’t quite an explosion, but it wasn’t tentative either.  Fire swept over the tarp and around the bed of the wagon, burrowing into the half-exposed crates and barrels under the cover.  For a moment it surprised both Bredan and the ogre menacing him, but after that moment passed the monster resumed its approach toward the stricken warrior.

But the participants in the melee weren’t the only ones startled by the unexpected conflagration.  The horses in the team in front of the wagon had been alarmed by the battle swirling around them.  They had been jumping in their traces, straining against the tack holding them in place.  But the fire right behind them pushed them over into panic, and as the four big animals lunged forward together they overpowered the wagon brake and charged forward up the road.

Right at Bredan, who was still lying in the middle of that road.

The sight of a four-horse team coming at him at a full sprint jolted him even more than the approaching ogre, and with a curse he sprang up and rolled to the side.  It was hardly an elegant maneuver, and the sword still strapped to his back jammed into his neck as he completed the roll, but the clattering hooves passed him by with scant inches to spare.  He only just barely yanked his arm back before the wheels of the wagon would have crushed it, but then the burning vehicle was past.  Blinking through a sudden haze of smoke, he watched as the panicked horses headed right for the boulder and the giant that blocked their way.  The team seemed to realize that they could not go that way, and with the drop-off to the right an obvious hazard they turned together to the left.  The horses in their terror somehow managed the rocky slope, but the wagon could not.  It tipped over, spilling its burning contents onto the road behind it.  The horses, burdened now by the full weight of the fallen wagon, could not escape as the giant strode over to them.

Bredan didn’t have time to watch what was going to happen to them, for the ogre was coming at him again, the smoke swirling around its massive body as it crossed the road.  The young fighter was still dazed from being flung from his horse, but he managed to get his sword out and rise into a fighting stance.  The ogre paused a moment, perhaps wary of a sword almost as big as its own weapon.  It had to be feeling the effects of its wounds, especially the puncture in its side that had matted its mangy furs with blood, but it didn’t look any less imposing for that.  Bredan could only make out bits and pieces of what was happening back at the rest of the wagons through the smoke, but it was impossible to miss the other two ogres, still fighting his friends.  He couldn’t tell who was winning.

Abruptly the ogre stepped forward and lunged, its club sweeping around toward Bredan’s head.  He ducked under it and slashed with his sword at the ogre’s forward leg.

But the leg wasn’t there.  Too late he realized that the ogre’s lunge had been a feint; it hadn’t followed through and instead took a step back.  Bredan stumbled, drawn off-balance like a novice.  He had just enough time to hear his uncle’s stern voice in his head before the ogre stepped in again and smashed him in the chest with its club.

This time the attack was no feint.  The impact lifted him off his feet and flung him to the ground.  His head dropped farther than it should have and he realized he was right on the lip of the drop that descended a hundred feet at a sharp angle to the forest below.

As stars flashed in his vision he saw his sword glittering in the late afternoon sunlight as it toppled end-over-end through the air before vanishing much like Kors had earlier.

For a moment he could only lie there despite the crushing pain in his neck.  He could feel echoes of that pain stabbing through his torso; the blow from the club must have broken a few of his ribs.  It took a heroic effort, but he managed to lift his head enough to see in front of him.

What he saw was about what he’d expected.  The ogre was there, standing over him just as it had stood over Ironjaw just moments before.  It seemed to be waiting for him to notice, then it smiled a toothy grin and lifted its bloody club to finish him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 91

Bredan turned his head—and paid the price as another stab of agony shot through his neck—but there was no one close by, none of his friends coming to save him.

The ogre’s foot slammed into the ground next to his leg and the club came plummeting down.  There was nowhere to go, not even enough time to roll off the edge and take his chances with the fall.  All he could do was lift his hand in a vain attempt to stop the death descending toward him.

There was a flash of light, a crash of impact.

Bredan blinked in surprise.

A glowing disk of transparent energy hung in the air between him and the ogre.  The creature looked to be just as surprised as he was; the hovering _shield_ had somehow completely absorbed the impact of the heavy club.  But the surprise lasted only a moment, and before Bredan could do more than scramble up into a crouch the barrier dissolved into nothing as suddenly as it had appeared.

The ogre quickly lifted his club to strike again.

_If only I still had my sword_, Bredan thought.  He started to reach for his hammer—a pathetic weapon against an ogre, but all he had—but was suddenly amazed to feel the familiar weight of his father’s sword in his hand.

There was no time to think about whether he was hallucinating; he rose and thrust with all the strength he had left.  Pain erupted throughout his body, but he let out a cry that pushed through it, pushed with everything he had.

After a moment he realized that he was still alive.  He was pressing against something that gave slightly, something that filled his nostrils with a terrible stench.  He drew back slightly and realized it was the ogre.  He was clinging to the hilt of his sword with both hands.  The entire length of the blade was buried in the creature’s body.

He drew back another step—wary of the drop right behind him—and looked up at the ogre’s face.  It wore a stricken expression, one that grew slack as the life drained from it.  Ever so slowly it began to lean backward as its knees gave way, and then it topped over onto the hard surface of the road.

Thankful for that small blessing—if it had fallen forward it might have pinned his sword under its bulk, or taken it off the cliff for a second time—he stumbled forward to try to recover his weapon.  As he did he saw that the smoke around the other wagons had cleared in the brief interval, giving him a better view of what was happening.

One of the other ogres was down; the thing looked like a pincushion with all the bolts and arrows sticking out from its body.  The other one was still up and fighting, but Bredan could see both Quellan and Kosk battling it.  Those among the wagon crews still alive, including Glori, had taken cover behind their vehicles and were taking shots with their bows when they could.

A deep thumping sound drew Bredan around in time to see the hill giant as it emerged from the dense plume of smoke rising from around the still-burning wagon.  Its fur leggings were stained red from the blood of the horses it had killed, and to Bredan’s horror he saw that it had a bloody haunch in one hand, from which it took another gory bite as he watched.  On seeing that the fight was still going on the giant dropped its half-finished meal and reached into its sack for another boulder.

Bredan quickly lunged for the hilt of his sword, but before he could try to yank it from the ogre’s body a clatter of hooves on the hard-packed surface of the road announced Haran’s return.  The expedition leader looked battered, with one of his shoulder plates torn away and his helmet missing so that the bloody gashes above his left eye were clearly visible.  But he had somehow managed to both stay on his horse and keep his spear, which he raised as he charged at a full gallop at the giant.  The horse had to be well-trained, for it didn’t veer from its course in the slightest as the gap between the two foes closed in an instant.

Bredan kept pulling on his sword, but it was caught on something and wouldn’t budge.  All he could do was watch as the giant pulled a club that made the ogre weapons look like toys from its belt.  With that and the length of its arms it could swat Haran from his saddle before he could hope to get within reach to use his spear.

But Haran didn’t turn aside; even as the giant started its swing he ducked low and hurled his spear with all his might and momentum behind it.  The shaft drove into the giant’s side, and the massive creature reared up in pain.  But it was just too huge to be seriously hurt by even that blow.  With a subtle tug on his reins Haran guided his horse to the left.  It looked like he would get clear, but at the last moment the giant simply hurled its club at its foe.

The club, the size of a good-sized tree, smashed into mount and rider from behind.  The horse crumpled, its rear legs broken by the impact.  Haran was launched flying much as Bredan had been earlier, but instead of falling to the ground he hit the mass of the boulder that blocked the road.  He bounced off the unyielding rock and collapsed in a limp heap.

Trying to ignore the stabbing pains his efforts caused, Bredan planted a foot against the ogre’s body and tried to twist his sword around to free it from whatever it was embedded against.  Blood jutted from the ogre’s fat torso as he strugged, but finally the sword came free.  Stumbling as he staggered clear, he lifted the weapon and confronted the giant from twenty human-sized paces away.

Arrows and bolts were buzzing this way now from the wagons, and although some stuck in the giant’s body it reacted as it might have to a mosquito’s sting.  Bredan glanced back and saw that the last ogre was down, but Quellan was bent over someone, probably one of the guards hurt in the fighting.  Kosk was coming around the wagons, but the dwarf was moving with a definite limp.

Bredan heard the thump of the giant’s massive stride and tensed, but when he looked back he saw that the creature was moving away.  It passed behind the massive boulder in just a few steps, the smoke from the burning wagon concealing even its considerable form.  He heard rather than saw it continue down the road and out of the fight.

Bredan knew he should go after it, or at least check on Haran, but it was all he could do just to remain upright.

“You all right, lad?”

Just turning around was difficult; Bredan managed an awkward shuffle.  “I’m okay,” he said.

Kosk glanced at the fallen ogre and the bloody sword in Bredan’s hands.  “Sorry we couldn’t get over here earlier.”

“Haran…” Bredan said.

Kosk nodded.  “I saw.  I’ll go check on him.  You wait here, Glori’s coming.”

She arrived before the dwarf had managed ten steps.  Unlike Kosk she didn’t ask how he was; she could see it on his face.  “Hold on,” she said, placing a hand gently against his chest while she strummed her lyre.  While she didn’t need it to invoke her magic anymore, she often still used it as a focus.  Her hand glowed briefly, and Bredan let out a sigh of relief as the healing energies faded into him.  It wasn’t enough to treat his various wounds fully, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse.

“Thanks,” he said.  “Go help Kosk with Haran.”

Glori ran after him, but from the way that Haran hit that boulder, Bredan wasn’t optimistic.  He had come very close to a grim fate himself, and would have died if it hadn’t been for… what _had_ happened?  He might have thought that the shield had been Glori’s work somehow, but he clearly had seen his sword fall over the cliff, and then it had been in his hand again.  It was possible that the hit from the ogre’s club had scattered his brains, but for a moment there had been _something_, a flash of power within him…

A shout from someone drew his attention back to the moment.  Glori and Kosk had turned from Haran, the looks on their faces confirming Bredan’s earlier suspicion.  The ogres were dead and the giant gone, but one look was enough to remind Bredan that their situation remained precarious.  The lead wagon was a total loss, but they would still need to move it in order to get the rest of their caravan past the giant boulder.  There were also graves to be prepared, or more likely cairns, given the nature of the ground here.  And it was getting late.  The fight felt like it had lasted for hours, but the sun had only dipped incrementally in the sky.  But Bredan knew that night would arrive swiftly once it dipped below the horizon.

He dug in his pouch for a rag to clean his sword, then started toward the wagons.

* * * 

Now you know why I didn't want to post the stat blocks for the most recent level-up.   

I'll finish book 4 on Monday, then put the story on hiatus for a while. Thanks to everyone who's been reading along and posting replies, XP, and laughs.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 92

The wagon seat jolted under Bredan, driving a sharp stab of pain through his already aching posterior.  He’d thought that riding a horse had left him sore, but two days riding a wagon had awakened a whole new series of torments for his already battered body.  Not that he’d spent all that much time riding; when the wagons weren’t bouncing on the increasingly terrible road they were waiting while Bredan and the other survivors of the giant ambush hacked through fallen trees, cleared rockslides, or engaged in other backbreaking and usually dangerous tasks to allow the wagons to continue forward up the next ascent.  It wasn’t all climbing, of course.  The descents were in some ways worse, the drivers riding their brakes while Bredan stared at narrow drop-offs where a slip of a wheel could lead to the wagon and its entire team being dragged off cliffs that varied in every way except for the likelihood of death if such a fall occurred.

The wagon jolted again, harder this time, and Harvin yanked his reins and lunged for his brake.  The wagon rattled to a stop.  Bredan didn’t hear anything different in the sound, but he’d learned to trust the old driver’s instincts.

“Think something’s broken?” Bredan asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Harvin said.  He made no move for the edge of the seat, but cracked his back and reached into the bed behind them for his waterskin.

Hiding a grimace, Bredan got up and hopped down from the wagon.  At least there was enough room to move around; their current stretch of road took them through a thinly-wooded valley before it rose again in yet another climb.  The other two wagons had stopped just ahead on noticing that Bredan and Harvin had called a halt.  Bredan could see that Quellan had already dismounted and was heading back to check on them.  Up in the lead vehicle, Glori was standing atop the uneven heaps of supplies in the bed, a hand held to shade her eyes as she looked to see what was happening.  Bredan offered a reassuring wave before he bent to check under the wagon.

He was hardly an expert, but he’d gotten to know the wagons and their workings in more detail than he’d wanted over the last few days.  This wagon had been damaged in the ambush, including a cracked axle, and it had taken most of their spare parts to complete a hasty repair.  Bredan’s skills had come in handy, though he might have been less enthusiastic if he’d known that the drivers would all defer to him from that point forward.  He couldn’t blame them, not really, not after the man who had hired them along with most of the soldiers that were supposed to protect them had died in the ambush.

Everything looked okay, but Bredan crawled under the wagon—hoping that Harvin had set the brake firmly—and tapped a few spots carefully with his hammer.  The repairs seemed to be holding, though he wouldn’t want to take this wagon on another trip without a full overhaul.  Mentally he amended the thought; he didn’t want to take _any_ more trips with a wagon train for about, oh, fifty years or so.

As he pulled himself out from under the wagon and stood up again Quellan arrived.  The half-orc looked as indestructible as ever, though Bredan knew that he’d stinted on treating his own wounds until all of the injuries suffered by the others had been healed.  There had been more damage to go around than he and Glori combined could heal, even with the cleric’s _Prayer of Healing_ ritual, and it hadn’t been until the morning after the fight that they’d finally been able to address the worst of it.

“Everything okay?” Quellan asked.  Bredan knew that his friend was asking about more than just the wagons, but he just nodded and said, “It’ll hold together for a bit longer, anyway.”

Quellan nodded and looked up at Harvin.  The old man was holding his waterskin in his lap as though wishing it was something stronger.  “Orrek thinks we’re getting close,” the half-orc reported.  The driver just shrugged and tossed the skin back into the bed of the wagon, then took up his reins and looked down as if Bredan was the one holding them up.

Bredan didn’t say anything to the man as Quellan trudged back to his wagon, he just circled around to the far side and clambered up onto the seat.  The horses looked as tired as he felt, and a few were taking advantage of the pause to crop at the straggling weeds that grew thick along the edges of the road.  He had barely settled back into his seat when Harvin snapped his reins and the wagon started forward again.

Bredan didn’t mind that his companion was not particularly garrulous.  He had a lot on his mind, even leaving aside the threat of another ambush or an encounter with one of the hostile creatures that Haran had said lived in these mountains.  He still had no explanation for what had happened in the battle with the ogres.  He hadn’t told his friends, not yet.  He knew he could talk with Glori, at least, but somehow in all the chaotic bustle that had followed the attack, and the way they had all collapsed into their bedrolls in their camp that night, he hadn’t gotten the chance.  He had managed to ask enough vague questions to confirm that none of the others had seen what he’d done, if in fact he _had_ conjured a magical shield out of nothing and summoned his sword into his hand from over the cliff where he’d dropped it.

He’d tried to repeat either feat, but the failure of his tentative experiments had hardly left him feeling reassured.  He had no idea how one cast spells, but he couldn’t remember anything remotely like what Glori or Quellan did when they used their magic.  Or even Xeeta, with her inherent gifts.  He wished she was still with them, so he could ask her.  The tiefling woman seemed to know a lot about a great many things.

He was jolted out of his musings again as the wagon shifted under him and he realized they’d reached the far side of the valley and the next ascent.  The original builders of the road had cut a winding route that kept the grade from becoming too difficult, but even so the horses had to strain to bear the weight.  Harvin muttered to himself as he snapped his reins, but he never reached for the whip set in a niche in the wagon seat next to him.

Up and up they went, the road bending around and around until it felt like they were going in circles.  The valley fell out of sight behind them but still they kept climbing, each curve revealing still another ahead.  Sometimes those curves were sharp enough that Bredan lost sight of the lead wagon, and when that happened he always tensed, his hand sliding seemingly of its own accord toward the hilt of his sword.  He’d left his crossbow tucked into a gap between two barrels right behind him, within easy reach, but thus far the weapon had not been of much use.  In fact, he realized with a start, he had yet to hit anything with it since he’d bought it.

Intellectually he knew that the climb had to come to an end eventually, but he was still caught by surprise when they came around another bend to see the other two wagons stopped just ahead.  Harvin spat a curse and yanked back on his reins, perhaps a bit harder than was necessary.  The horses were all too happy to stop, and the wagon came to a halt a good twenty paces behind the next one ahead.

The lead wagon had stopped just below a bend that appeared to mark the final stage at least in this climb, just below an exposed crest that had nothing but empty sky and a few far-distant peaks behind it.  Bredan could see that his friends had already dismounted from the wagons and were heading up to get a look.  He quickly jumped down and headed after them, trying not to sway too much as his sore backside protested at the rapid movement.

Willem was standing on the seat of the second wagon, his crossbow loaded and ready in his hands.  “Do you think we’re there yet?” he asked Bredan as he passed.  The smith could only shrug; how was he supposed to know?

The others had turned off the road just shy of the crest, cutting up a slope too steep for the wagons to a jut of stone surrounded by weeds.  There was a solitary tree there, stunted and bent but with enough growth to offer at least some cover.  Glori, Kosk, and Quellan were all standing next to it as Bredan struggled up the last stretch of the ascent.  Glori was the only one to turn at his approach.  There wasn’t any immediate alarm on her face, but her expression was enough to have him hurrying the last few paces.

What he saw almost took his breath away.  The Silverpeak Valley wasn’t that big, a few miles wide at its narrowest point, curving away as it extended into the distance, its exact dimensions lost within a dense expanse of forest.  Its sides sloped sharply on this end, promising another death-defying descent, though Bredan couldn’t see the road from this vantage.  He could see where it ended, however, the town of Wildrush clearly visible along the banks of the stream from which it took its name.  They were too far away to see much in the way of details, certainly too far to see people, but what they could see awakened a fresh stab of dread in Bredan’s gut.

“For once, it looks like trouble beat us here,” Glori said quietly.

“It doesn’t look like the entire town was burned,” Quellan said, one hand raised to shelter his eyes in an echo of the gesture Bredan had seen Glori make earlier.  “In fact, most of the damage seems focused on the northern edge of town.  Maybe they repelled an attack.”

“Maybe it was just an accident,” Glori said.  “A spilled lamp, gotten out of control.”

“Or maybe Murgoth’s forces decided to come this way after all,” Bredan said.

“We’ll not find out from here,” Kosk said after a moment’s pause.  “We’d better get moving, if we’ve any hope of getting there by dark.”

The others turned around and started back toward the wagons.  Bredan glanced back for one more look into the valley.  For some reason, he felt as though his life was about to change significantly once he started down that road, and not in the plummeting-to-his-death kind of way.

“Bredan, you coming?” Glori called after him.

“Yeah,” he said.  But it took an effort to turn his gaze away.


Chapter 93

Stones shifted under Kurok’s feet as he stumbled up the steep slope.  The ascent was treacherous, and the bare ground offered little in terms of support; a rock he reached for to steady himself might well give way at his touch.  He’d already slipped a few times; more than a few, if his knees were any guide.

The rise ahead looked much the same as the hundreds he’d climbed in the days since he’d left Scar Canyon.  He was exhausted, and not just because of the hard pace he’d set.  Even now he frequently lifted his head to scan the skies, and every unexpected noise had him turning swiftly, his magic stirring instinctively at his call.  But his luck had held; the dragon had not elected to make an appearance.

The sun edged below the crest ahead, casting the hillside into shadow.  The absence of light felt reassuring, though it meant they would have to stop again soon.  He and his companions had no difficulty in the dark, but other things haunted the mountains in the night, things he was not eager to confront.  Already they had had their share of encounters, though nothing that had been a real threat to their progress.  And those interludes had given him a chance to evaluate his new allies.

The ground began to level out ahead of him, and he looked up to find that he had reached the crest.  A mistake, to let his thoughts wander so, but even the Blooded were ultimately mortal flesh.  He would need to rest before he reached his destination.

But as he continued forward, he realized with a start that his destination was right in front of him.

The valley spread out like a curved blade.  His vantage was near one narrow end, where the two sloping sides converged to not quite a point.  Directly ahead and below him was a vast sea of green, a dense forest that could have hidden anything within its fastness.  Somewhere within that expanse was what he had come here to find.  He imagined he could feel it pulling at him, but that was likely just a byproduct of his weary mind.

His eyes were drawn to the northwest.  The fading sun was still bright enough to blind him, and thick forests and rise and fall of the terrain concealed whatever details that were not fogged by distance.  But he thought he could see faint wisps of gray rising into the sky before the wind caught them and tore them apart.  He pinned those markers onto a mental map, then nodded to himself.  Only then did he turn, slowly, lifting one hand and forming it into a fist.

The column parted as it reached him, the worgs and their goblin riders passing to each side.  The Bloodriders did not stop to take in the view as Kurok had; they barely slowed before they found the best routes down the opposite slope and poured into the Silverpeak Valley.

Kurok remained where he was until they had all passed him.  They were as tired as he, mounts and riders alike, but it took less than a minute before the last straggler had joined the column in the descent.  The lead riders were already almost to the fringe of the uppermost trees that clung to the rocky slope.  The odors of his army swirled in the air as a lingering reminder of their passage.

Kurok took one more look at the landscape that stretched before him, then he followed after them.

There was much to be done.

* * *

I'll continue the story in December.


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## Neurotic

All caught up and hooked like always. Welcome back, Lazybones!


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## carborundum

Can't believe there's still more November to go 

Sent from my EVA-L09 using EN World mobile app


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## carborundum

How goes the NaNoWriMo, Lazybones?


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## Neurotic

Patience young padawan, November is still strong


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## carborundum

Neurotic said:


> Patience young padawan, November is still strong



Hence the present tense...


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## Lazybones

I finished my novel! This year's my seventh time participating in NaNoWriMo. I have a quick writing pace normally, but NaNoWriMo requires an average of 1,666 words/day, which means no taking days off. 

I've already resumed writing _Forgotten Lore_, and I'll have updates for you again starting Friday.


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## carborundum

Wow, well done! Will you be publishing the novel after polishing?


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## SolitonMan

Lazybones said:


> I finished my novel! This year's my seventh time participating in NaNoWriMo. I have a quick writing pace normally, but NaNoWriMo requires an average of 1,666 words/day, which means no taking days off.
> 
> I've already resumed writing _Forgotten Lore_, and I'll have updates for you again starting Friday.




Great news!  Congratulations, that's a lot of work! 

And thanks!  I'm looking forward to reading more Forgotten Lore!


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## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Wow, well done! Will you be publishing the novel after polishing?




That's the plan!

* * * * *

Book 5: OUT IN THE WILDERNESS

Chapter 94

The damage to Wildrush didn’t look as significant from the valley floor as it had from the rim.

The town was situated atop a stony rise that gave it a clear vantage for about a mile in all directions.  The stream that gave the place its name passed within a bowshot of the stockade wall, close enough to provide an easy source of water without threatening the integrity of the defensive barrier.  The stream was put to work as it continued beyond the town; a sawmill and tannery stood close enough to be under the protection of the walls without making a nuisance with their accompanying sounds and smells.

An assortment of dun-colored tents had also been erected near the stream on the approach to the town.  Groups of rough-looking men and a smaller number of women were visible moving around the tents, but the overall sense was one of disarray.  To a person they stopped and watched the small caravan as it rattled past, their expressions too vague to suggest either hope or despair at their arrival.

As the adventurers drew closer to the main gates—closed save for a narrow sally door—they could see more signs of whatever had happened here.  The stockade looked more or less intact, save for some soot marks that might have been old, but it was much harder to ignore the burned-out remains of a tower that rose to blackened timbers about ten feet above the twelve-foot height of the log wall.  When intact the tower would have commanded an impressive view of the entire area, but now it just seemed to highlight the vulnerability of the isolated town.

They were still well clear, not even at the base of the shallow ascent that culminated in the gates, when the heavy portals creaked open to reveal a small company of riders.  The men, clad in a variety of garb but all obviously armed, galloped swiftly down to meet the approaching caravan.  The lead wagon drew to a halt, and as the other two followed suit Bredan jumped down from his seat and walked forward to join his companions in awaiting the arrival of the welcoming committee.

The six riders reined in a good two hundred paces short of the lead wagon, giving Bredan enough time to reach the front of the column before they arrived.  Only the leader wore any kind of insignia, a cast-iron badge bearing the King’s rearing-horse sigil.  He was also the only one wearing armor, a shirt of mail links that looked like it could use some time in an armorer’s forge.  His five companions remained on their horses as he dismounted and tossed his reins to one of them before approaching the wagons.  Bredan joined Glori, Quellan, and Kosk in waiting for him.

“I’m Captain Lydon,” he said by way of greeting.  He looked to be about fifty, the hair just visible under his broad cap a steel gray.  But Bredan didn’t miss the way that he walked, or the well-worn hilt on the sword at his hip.  “Which of you is Golver Haran?”  His gaze drifted back to the wagons, as if doubtful that any of the four adventurers could have met the description of his contact.

“He didn’t make it,” Quellan said.  Lydon hadn’t shown any alarm on first seeing the half-orc, but now his eyes widened just a bit as he noticed the symbol he wore around his neck.  “We ran into some trouble on the way up,” the cleric explained.

“Giants attacked us,” Bredan said.  “They destroyed one of the wagons and killed several of the guards, including Haran.”

“Don’t worry, we’re here on the behalf of the army,” Glori said, idly plucking a string of her lyre as she spoke.

Lydon grimaced and glanced back at his companions as if to check if they’d overheard.  The other riders shared nervous looks, and one fidgeted with his reins, causing his horse to jerk its head from side to side.  “You’d better come with me,” Lydon said.  “The Governor will want to speak with you immediately, I’d reckon.”

“That would be fine,” Quellan said.  He turned to signal to the wagon drivers.

“What happened here?” Glori asked Lydon as they stepped clear of the road.  “Were you attacked?”

“I think… I think I’d better let the Governor tell that tale,” Lydon said.  “Let’s get these wagons inside the walls before we lose the light.”  Before Glori or any of the others could ask anything more he turned and hurried back to his friends.  He issued orders as he mounted, and the small cluster of riders spread out to flank the wagons as they began the ascent toward the town.

Kosk and Quellan headed back to their wagons, but Bredan remained where he was, waiting for Harvin to come to him for once.  Glori lingered with him instead of rejoining the lead wagon.  “What do you think?” she asked.

Bredan’s expression was serious as he shifted his gaze between their escort and the town, his eyes lingering on the blackened outline of the ruined tower.  “I think the Governor’s going to have some bad news for us,” he finally said.


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## Lazybones

I realize that the above post doesn't deliver a proper Friday cliffhanger, so here are the first few lines from Chapter 95 as a bonus. I'll resume posting on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule from here forward.

* * * 

Chapter 95

Within a minute of meeting the Governor, Bredan learned that he’d been right.

“Two days ago, Wildrush was attacked by a chimera,” Argost Brownwell said.

Bredan didn’t know immediately how bad it was, but one look at the faces of his companions was suggestive.  Kosk grimaced and shook his head, while Quellan looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.  Only Glori managed to recover her typically enthusiastic smile, though Bredan could see how her hand shook as she reached down to stroke her lyre.  She glanced over at him, and on seeing his look of confusion explained.

“It’s a magical beast,” she told him.  “A three-headed monstrosity that is part goat, part lion, and part dragon.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bredan said.


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## carborundum

Aaand he's back.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 95

Within a minute of meeting the Governor, Bredan learned that he’d been right.

“Two days ago, Wildrush was attacked by a chimera,” Argost Brownwell said.

Bredan didn’t know immediately how bad it was, but one look at the faces of his companions was suggestive.  Kosk grimaced and shook his head, while Quellan looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.  Only Glori managed to recover her typically enthusiastic smile, though Bredan could see how her hand shook as she reached down to stroke her lyre.  She glanced over at him, and on seeing his look of confusion explained.

“It’s a magical beast,” she told him.  “A three-headed monstrosity that is part goat, part lion, and part dragon.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bredan said.

“That’s a bloody understatement,” Kosk said.  “Haran never said anything about no bloody chimera.”

“The creature only appeared in the valley less than a week ago,” the only other man in the room chimed in.  The middle-aged human who’d been introduced as “Coop” headed the local Manufacturers’ Association.  He had the look of a man who would be equally at home in a sawmill or a shop that focused on detail-work.  He was much like Brownwell in that; the Governor still had the gnarled, scarred hands of the mine foreman he’d been before he’d been chosen for his current position.  Lydon hadn’t remained with them for longer than it had taken to show them to this room.  “We drove the thing off, but two men were killed and over a dozen hurt, some badly.  And you saw the damage it did ere it left.”

“My friend didn’t mean to impugn your efforts,” Quellan said.  “From what Captain Haran told us, things like that are not uncommon in these mountains.”

“It’s a sad loss,” Brownwell said.   “He was a good man.  Killed by a giant, you said?”

“A hill giant, accompanied by four ogres,” Glori said.  “They were camped out on the road, waiting in ambush.”  After a quick glance at Quellan she added, “There might have been a spellcaster with them, we’re not certain.  They had picked a good spot for their attack, and they destroyed the lead wagon, the one carrying the weapons for your garrison.”

“Organized, then,” Coop said with a knowing look at Brownwell.

“We’d wondered why we hadn’t heard anything from the south of late,” Brownwell said.  “We don’t exactly get much traffic here in the Silverpeak, not since the last mining bust, but we get some, even if it’s just the carrier of the King’s post or the odd peddler or trader coming over to sell his wares.”

“But you know about the war, right?” Bredan asked.

“Aye, though I almost wish we hadn’t,” Brownwell said.  “We have enough problems here in the best of times, leaving aside a goblinoid army.”

“They’d be there whether or not you’d heard,” Kosk pointed out.

“We haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of their kind in the valley,” Coop interjected.  “Not that I’m complaining.”

“From what we’ve seen, it doesn’t look like you have regular patrols,” Kosk said.

Anger flashed on Coop’s face for a moment, but Brownwell restrained him with a raised hand.  “It’s true, we haven’t had anything more than a token force stationed here since the silver ran out,” the Governor admitted.  “Barely enough to keep the peace, with the sorts of folk who end up here.  Some say it was worse during the boom, but thin times bring out their own kind of trouble.”

“Such as this monster that afflicts you,” Quellan said.  “Have any other settlements been attacked?”

“There aren’t that many,” Brownwell said, “Not anymore.  But I’ve sent riders to check on the few holdouts who still have claims along the east slope and along the outer edge of the woods.  We still have one major mine that’s still running, the Crossed Picks.  I’ve notified the miners, though to be honest they’re probably safer there than they are here.”

“Thing’s too big to go crawling into a deep shaft,” Coop explained.

“When I heard you’d arrived, I thought we might have found salvation,” Brownwell said.  “We’d been told there would be significant reinforcements for our garrison with the next shipment of supplies.”

“That wasn’t true even before those giants hit us,” Kosk said.  “Haran had just a handful of men.”

“I don’t know how significant we are, Governor, but we’re at your service,” Quellan said.  “We have some, ah, experience with this sort of thing.”

“Too much experience, when it comes to volunteering,” Kosk muttered under his breath, but he subsided at a look from the cleric.

“Do you know where the creature went, after it attacked you?” Glori asked.

Brownwell was about to respond when they heard the sound of boots, a heavy tread, in the hallway outside.  The Governor’s House was two stories, and bigger than most in Wildrush, but it was the same type of hasty wooden construction that was typical in the rest of the town, and even the Governor’s boards tended to creak.

“Ah,” Brownwell said.  “If this is who I think it is, then he might have a better answer to your question.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 96

Everyone turned to the door just as it opened and a man came in.  The new arrival started a bit on seeing everyone looking at him.  He was a rough if rakish-looking fellow, a human maybe thirty years old, skin deeply tanned with a soil-brown beard that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in a few days.  His clothes looked just as rumpled, functional leathers in dark shades that would blend into a forest or rocky terrain.  But there wasn’t any rust on the sheaths of the two long knives tucked into his belt, or on the buckles on the straps that supported both a stuffed quiver and a small scout’s satchel slung across his back.  His eyes were a bit bloodshot but intent as they took in the room, focusing for just a second on each of the unfamiliar outsiders.

“Rodan, your timing is perfect as always,” Brownwell said.  “These are specialists sent from Adelar to help us with our… situation.  Unfortunately, Golver Haran is dead, their caravan came under attack as well on the road through the mountains.  Giants.”

Rodan took all that in with barely a blink, reaching up to rub his beard as Brownwell introduced each of the adventurers in turn.  “Rodan is a ranger, he knows the western Silverpeak better than just about anyone,” Brownwell said.

“The Governor is too generous with his praise,” the man said.  He had a slight accent that spoke of a distant ancestry.  He shook each of their hands in turn, not batting an eye at either Quellan or Kosk, though when he came to Bredan he held his hand for just a beat longer, giving him an evaluative look before turning back to the others.

“What did you find out?” Coop asked.

Rodan glanced subtly at the adventurers, but at Brownwell’s nod he said, “There weren’t a lot of signs, but what little there was pointed to where we thought.  It looks like the beast has chosen to make its lair in the High Hollows.”

“Is that far from the town?” Quellan asked.

“Not far enough,” the ranger said.

“Do you think it’ll come back?” Bredan asked.

“We didn’t hurt it that badly,” Rodan said.

“According to Petellian’s _Bestiary_, the first chimeras were created by a demon prince that was brought to our world through potent magic,” Quellan said.  “They bear all of the worst traits of their constituent creatures: greed, pride, and viciousness.  They enjoy the fear and suffering of lesser beings… it will savor the terror it has created.”

“I’ve heard a few tales of groups that took one of them on,” Glori said.  “The one thing the stories all have in common the fact that chimeras are tough and deadly.”

“Let’s focus on what we know, strengths and weaknesses,” Kosk said.  “They can fly, obviously.  The dragon head breathes fire, I presume.”

“Aye,” Brownwell said.

“Though not endlessly,” Rodan said.  “In the first attack, it would breathe and then fly around for a bit before coming around to offer another gout.  In close quarters it can attack with multiple heads and its claws, all at once.”

“You were fortunate to only lose a few men, it sounds like,” Glori said.

“Only because no one was stupid enough to face it head-on,” Coop said.  He shot a look at Kosk as if inviting him to say something, but the dwarf held his tongue.

“We’re not warriors here,” Brownwell said.  “Even the few soldiers we have in our garrison are not equipped to face a threat like this.  We’ll fight to defend our home, but if the creature comes back determined to burn Wildrush to the ground, I fear there’s little we can do to stop it.”

“We took an oath to fight for the King,” Bredan said.  “Whether it’s against goblins or monsters, I reckon it applies either way.”

“Well said,” Rodan said.  “You have magic?”

“We have some,” Glori said.  “Unfortunately, our blasting mage isn’t with us any longer, but we can still do some damage.”

“We’ve been making what preparations we can for the creature’s return, but Wildrush is still vulnerable,” Brownwell said.

“If we’re going to do this, and it’s still a big ‘if’ in my mind, then we have to do it right,” Kosk said.  “Hunt the beast down, face it in its lair and destroy it.  No half-measures, just keep hitting it until its dead.  If it flies off, pursue it to where it goes to ground and kill it there.  Keep harrying it until it’s either dead or has left the valley.”

“It sounds like this isn’t your first hunt,” Rodan said.  “The dwarf has the right of it, I suspect,” he added to Brownwell and Coop.

Brownwell nodded.  “I won’t order you to do this, but if you agree to accept this mission we’ll give you whatever support we can.”

Quellan turned to Rodan.  “Sir, if you’re willing to show us the way, we will confront the creature,” the cleric said.

“It would be even better if you’d send a dozen men with heavy crossbows with us,” Kosk said.

“I’m not sure you’ll find many eager for that duty,” Coop said.

“If they don’t fight it in its lair, they’ll have to fight it here,” Kosk pointed out.

“They’ll need men who can fight here,” Quellan said.  “The thing can fly, remember; there’s no guarantee it won’t attack while we’re out seeking its lair.”

“And a small group can better escape detection,” Glori said.  “Sneak up on it.”

“This is a monster that can fly and has three heads,” Kosk said.  “I don’t think you can assume you’ll be able to sneak up on it.”

“I know a way to the Hollows that has good cover on the approaches,” Rodan said.  “There’s a chance we’ll make it there undetected.  But up on the heights, where the caves are, there’s a lot of open ground.”

“Maybe we can lure it into a trap,” Glori suggested.

“There’s a whole lot of maybes to figure out,” Kosk said.  “But we’ve just finished a long and difficult climb over some mountains, and I for one could use a wash, a hot meal, and a drink, not necessarily in that order.”

“I know where you can get all three,” Coop said, rising to his feet.  “If we’re done here for now…”

“Yes, of course,” Brownwell said.  “We’ll talk later, once you had a chance to rest and recover from your journey.”  He and Rodan watched until they had left, their eyes lingering on the departing adventurers with a mix of hope and careful evaluation until the door to the Governor’s office had swung closed behind them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 97

Quellan was as tired as his companions, his limbs feeling as though iron weights had been banded around each one, but he begged off from the group as they approached the inn where rooms had been reserved for the use of the new arrivals from Adelar.  It was already late in the day and he wanted to visit the local temple before nightfall.  He anticipated an early start to their chimera-hunt the next day, and while they still had some of the healing potions they’d purchased in Adelar with some of the surplus party funds he wanted to see if any other magical resources were available locally.

Glori offered to go with him, but he told her that wasn’t necessary.  While he would have enjoyed her company in most instances, he felt the need for some time alone, to get his thoughts—and feelings—in order.

Finding the temple wasn’t hard at all.  Wildrush was not a large town, and the building was distinctive.  For one it was made entirely of stone, the large blocks offering a contrast in solidity and age that contrasted significantly with the wooden constructions that surrounded it.  This was a place that looked like it might have stood when the rest of the town was just an idea on a map.  From what he’d seen thus far Quellan would not have been surprised if most of Wildrush’s buildings had been rebuilt more than once in the place’s tumultuous history.

But when he finally reached the front of the temple he stopped in surprise.  The design was fairly simple, consistent with the other rural churches he’d visited, but what caught him off-guard was the sigil etched into the lintel-stone above the door.  It was the same sign he wore on the icon that hung on his chest.  The markings that stood for the Eleven Precepts had faded away, leaving the open book blank, but it could only be the symbol of Hosrenu, his patron deity.

Blinking up at that familiar marking, he tried to remember what Haran had told him about Wildrush.  He’d thought that the other man had said that the local temple was dedicated to Sorevas; wouldn’t he have remembered if the other man had mentioned his own god?

After a few moments Quellan shook his head and went inside.  There was an easy way to learn the truth.

The interior was quiet and dark after the noise and bustle of the street.  The foyer was only about five paces across, the stone floor bare and the walls decorated only by a few scraps of dyed linen that bore no markings.  Arched exits stood to either side and ahead.  To the left and right the rooms beyond were only slightly larger, their simple furnishings indicating that they were chapels for prayer services.  Each could have only accommodated maybe a dozen worshippers, but both were empty at the moment.  Behind the altar stones were additional linen hangings that bore the sigils of the gods Sorevas and Laesil.  That could explain his earlier confusion, perhaps.  Otherwise the two chapels appeared to be identical, though Quellan could hardly think of two gods more dissimilar than the Shining Father and the Lady of Fortune.  Although thinking about it, maybe it made sense, considering the nature of this place.

But the broader mystery of the open book pushed him forward.  The arch opposite the entry led down a narrow hall that quickly opened into another small chamber.  This one both felt intimately familiar and strange at the same time.  The shelves that divided the room into corridors were familiar, as were the small wooden study-desks tucked into niches in the walls.  But the shelves were only sparsely populated, and both they and the desks were covered in a layer of dust that would have thrown the Head Librarian back at the monastery in Crosspath into fits to see it.  The place also lacked the clean smell of books he remembered, instead filled with an earthy mustiness overlaid with the pungent tones of a barracks-hall.

Feeling uneasy at the sight of the temple, he headed deeper into the chamber.  The altar-stone and the lectern behind it stood within a narrow beam of light that projected down from a slit window in the canted roof ten paces above.  Motes of dust danced in the light, and Quellan shook his head in annoyance.  There wasn’t even a copy the _Principles of Knowledge_ on the lectern where it should be, a fundamental error that even a priest of another sect shouldn’t have made.

There were a few side-rooms that exited off of the back of the chamber, and the second of those that Quellan ducked his head into was occupied.  A man in a priest’s robes lay sprawled upon a cot, snoring softly.  He looked to be in his fifties, his thinning hair more gray than brown, what was left of it scattered about his scalp in disarray.  A scattering of empty bottles on the floor around the cot suggested that more than simple exhaustion explained him being asleep hours still before nightfall.  A small table in the corner held more bottles and the remains of more than one meal.  One sniff was enough to confirm that this room and its occupant were the source of the stale odor he’d sensed earlier.

Quellan almost retreated, but then the old priest shifted in his sleep and groaned.  The motion caused his robe to open slightly, revealing a sigil he wore on a leather cord around his neck.  The symbol on the carved wooden disk was identical to the one Quellan wore, and matched the carving on the entrance to the temple.

Quellan leaned forward and gave the sleeping man a sharp nudge.  The priest groaned and shifted again but didn’t wake.  After a moment the half-orc tried again, then a third time.  Finally he took a firm grip on the man’s shoulder and shook him until his eyes popped open.  They widened as they fixed on Quellan.  “Gaaah!” the priest cried, jerking back with enough force that he slid half off the cot.  Bottles went skittering across the floor and caromed off the walls as his legs scrambled upon the bare stone.  Quellan grabbed hold of him, mostly to keep him from hurting himself in his surprise.

“Calm yourself,” Quellan said.  “I am looking for the Loremaster of this temple.”

The priest recovered fairly quickly from his confusion, though it took another few moments for him to be able to get his legs under him enough to stay on the cot unsupported.  “Who are you?  What do you want?” he asked.

“My name is Quellan Emberlane.  I am looking for the Loremaster.”

The priest’s eyes sharpened.  “You’re him.  You’re the one.”

“The one what?” Quellan asked.

But the priest had already turned away, and as Quellan watched he bent down and started checking the survivors of the bottles scattered beneath the cot.  The half-orc didn’t realize what he was doing until the priest went over to the table and began checking those as well.  The old man’s expression soured as he failed to find any bottles that weren’t empty.

“I am looking for the Loremaster…” Quellan ventured again.

“I’m him,” the priest said.  “Name’s Shenan.”  He walked past Quellan into the main hall of the temple, turning to go into one of the other side-rooms.  The half-orc started to follow, only to stop abruptly as he heard the sound of the priest using a chamber pot.

“Well, what do you want?” Shenan asked, before he was finished.

“I just arrived with some companions from Adelar,” Quellan said.  “We heard about the attack on the town.”

“Dark business, that,” Shenan said, appearing in the doorway so suddenly that Quellan jumped slightly.  The old priest pushed past him and made his way back to the room with the cot.  He bent to pick up one of the bottles that had been knocked over by the entry, but only gave it a quick shake before adding it to the collection on the table.  “Not sure what these yokels expected, living up here in this gods-forsaken place.”

“Um… what are you doing up here?” Quellan ventured.

“Serving a penance,” Shenan said.  “What about you?  Adelar’s a long way away.”

“There’s a war going on,” Quellan said.  “My companions and I came up here to watch for any goblinoid incursions that might try to flank…”

“Even goblins aren’t stupid enough to want to come here,” Shenan said over him.  “That chimera won’t be the worst of it, you mark me.”

“What do you mean?” Quellan asked.

“You’ll see, soon enough,” Shenan said.  He sat back down on the cot, bending to grab the blanket that had fallen behind it when he’d be woken up.

“Perhaps we could talk more more over a meal,” Quellan suggested.  “We’re staying at an inn not far from here…”

“You wouldn’t catch me in the Barrel,” Shenan said.  “Place attracts an unsavory sort.”  He gave Quellan a hard look then slumped back down onto the cot.  “Don’t forget to close the door on your way out.”

“Hey,” Quellan said, stepping back into the room.  “Hey!”

“No need to shout, boy,” Shenan said.

“I came here seeking help,” Quellan said.  “My companions and I are going to seek the chimera’s lair tomorrow, and are in need of the god’s blessing.  Healing potions, protectives, scrolls…”

Shenan waved a hand idly, then pulled the blanket up over him.  “Downstairs,” he said.  “In the nook behind the altar stone.  If there is anything like that, it would be down there.  Take whatever you need.”

Quellan supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he couldn’t help but blurt, “You mean there isn’t an inventory?”

“Welcome to Wildrush,” muttered the priest as he yanked the blanket up further and turned to face the wall.

Resisting the urge to shake the man again, Quellan retreated back to the temple hall.

The place was small enough that it didn’t take him long to find the stairs the old priest had talked about, behind a door that took all of Quellan’s strength to pull open.  It wasn’t locked, but the state of the hinges suggested that Shenan didn’t come this way very often.  The stairs themselves were narrow enough that it took the big half-orc some care to make his way down, and even then his head was scraping the low ceiling.  The stairs turned once and then deposited him into a vault that made the temple above look orderly by comparison.

The air here was thick and stale, and filled with dust by the time he’d taken three steps.  The darkness gave him no difficulty, thanks to his orcish heritage, but he still took a moment to summon a _light_ spell and fix it to one of the flanges on his mace.

What the spell revealed caused him to reassess his estimate of how frequently the Lorekeeper came down here; it looked like no one had entered the cellar in a hundred years.  There were more of the freestanding shelves, these extending from the floor to the ceiling.  There was at least enough clearance that he wouldn’t bump his head, though he could have reached up and touched the thick buttresses that supported it without straining.  From near the stairs he couldn’t tell if there were any other exits, but it didn’t look like it.

Careful not to dislodge anything, Quellan began an examination of the closer shelves.  There was still more open space than filled, but the books he saw surprised him.  The library in the monastery in Crosspath had owned a decent collection of titles, some of which he saw copies of here, but there were also books on these shelves that would have caused the Head Librarian to turn green with envy.  Most were in a sorry state, a fact that caused him more distress than anything he’d seen here thus far, even that drunk of a priest.  He paused to look at a few of the books, being excruciatingly careful of their binding and the faded pages within, but the urgency of his mission quickly drove him onward.

The shelves extended across the breadth of the vault, but at their end he came to a small open space that abutted the back wall.  He guessed he was almost directly below the foyer of the temple, which he suspected might have been a later addition to the building.  This underground room did not look like an add-on.  A horizontal shelf had been cut into the wall, upon which a small assortment of objects rested, universally covered in dust.  Below them stood half a dozen chests, banded in iron that was crusted with rust.  The last object of interest was another altar stone, this one with maybe half the dimensions of the ones in the temple above.  It was carved with markings in the style of an older time, etched into the stone with a heavy chisel.  Even in that simple style Quellan had no difficulty identifying the Twelve Runes of Lore.  A reverent feeling came over him as he knelt to examine the altar more closely, but before he could touch it something else caught his eye.

It was one of the objects on the shelf; his light had glinted on it as he’d turned toward the altar.  Careful of the chests, he leaned over and picked it up.  It was a stone tablet, slightly larger than his outstretched hand, surrounded by a band of ancient bronze.  There were markings on it, crude slashes that looked similar to the ones in the altar stone, only these looked like they had been done in haste.  But when he lifted his mace to study the runes, he found that they were just barely readable.  They were written in a dialect of Old Untan, a languge with which he had only a passing familiarity, but oddly enough he found that he could decipher the meaning.

_“Sal nev ka tas.  Te kaltas kev feuer,”_ he said.  “By the ancient power, command the sacred flame.”

He didn’t expect a reaction, so when he felt a rush of heat accompanied by a low roar directly behind him he spun and nearly knocked over one of the bookshelves with his mace.  As he stared in surprise he saw a gout of flames that splashed down onto the altar stone.  For a moment Quellan felt a moment of panic—an uncontrolled fire would quickly consume this chamber, and likely destroy the temple above as well—but the fire did not spread.  Instead they gathered together in the center of the altar, where they formed into a sphere of flame a few inches across.  It continued to burn there, despite lacking any obvious source of fuel.

Quellan stared at it for a few moments, then looked down at his feet.  In his surprise he had dropped the stone tablet.  It had shattered on the floor, the runes now just meaningness marks on the fragments.

He was wary of unleashing another unexpected blast, but curiosity pulled him back to the burning sphere, curiosity and something else he could not clearly identify.  It was that latter pull that had him reaching out his hand toward the flame.  It felt hot, felt like a normal fire, yet he still thrust a fingertip toward it until it touched the edge of the sphere.

He felt a jolt, and reflexively jerked his hand back.  But he was not burned.  The flames flickered one last time and then died out.  But he felt something, a lingering warmth that spread through his hand, tingling as it swept through his body before lodging in a faint knot in the back of his mind.  He could feel its presence there, when he focused his thoughts upon it.  Sharpening his concentration, he probed that spot much as he had probed at the sphere of fire.

Flames erupted in front of him, a cascade that once more struck the altar and burned.  But this time, he knew their source, and he found that he could control them.  Drawing back from the node of power that resided in his thoughts, the flames subsided and went out.

He knew instinctively that the flames hadn’t spread beyond the altar’s surface, but he still checked the area around it carefully.  He spent a minute cleaning up the pieces of the stone tablet, carefully gathering them on the shelf where he had found it.  Then he turned and made his way back up to the upper level of the temple, his thoughts preoccupied with the implications of what had just happened.


----------



## Lazybones

The party has leveled again, so here's another set of stat blocks.

Level 4
Shortly after arrival at the Silverpeak Valley

Bredan Karras, Human Male Fighter, Level 4
AC 16 (chain mail), hp 38, Str 17, Dex 11, Con 16, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 13
Attacks Greatsword +5 melee (2d6+3 damage), Light Crossbow +2 ranged (1d8 damage)
Background: Folk Hero
Skills: Animal Handling +4, Athletics +5, Perception +4, Survival +4
Special Abilities: Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting, Second Wind, Action Surge, Martial Archetype (Eldritch Knight), Weapon Bond
Spells (DC 9, 3 1st level slots/day): 0/Blade Ward, 0/True Strike, 1/Jump, 1/Longstrider, 1/Protection from Evil and Good, 1/Shield
Equipment: Chain mail, greatsword, light crossbow and 20 bolts, light hammer

Glorianna (Glori) Leliades, Half-Elf Female Bard, Level 4
AC 15 (leather armor), hp 31, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 18
Attacks Shortbow +5 ranged (1d6+3 damage), Dagger +5 melee (1d4+3 damage)
Background: Entertainer
Skills: Acrobatics +5, Deception +6, Sleight of Hand +5, History +3, Investigation +3, Performance +6, Persuasion +6
SA Darkvision, Bardic Inspiration, Jack of All Trades, Song of Rest (d6), Bard College (Valor), Combat Inspiration
Spells (DC 14, 4 1st level and 3 2nd level slots/day): 0/Dancing Lights, 0/Mending, 0/Minor Illusion, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Heroism, 1/Sleep, 1/Thunderwave, 2/Enhance Ability, 2/Invisibility, 2/Suggestion
Equipment: Lyre, leather armor, shortbow and 20 arrows, dagger, brooch of antivenom (2 charges)

Kosk Stonefist, Hill Dwarf Male Monk, Level 4
AC 13 (no armor), hp 37, Str 16, Dex 13, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Attacks Quarterstaff +5 melee (1d6+3) and Martial Arts +5 melee (1d4+3), or darts +3 ranged (1d4+1 damage)
Background: Criminal
Skills: Athletics +5, Deception +1, Insight +4, Stealth +3
SA: Dwarven Toughness, +10 movement, 4 Ki points (flurry of blows, patient defense, or step of the wind), Monastic Tradition (Open Hand), Deflect Missiles
Equipment: quarterstaff, 10 darts

Quellan Emberlane, Half-Orc Male Cleric, Level 4
AC 16 (half plate, shield), hp 31, Str 16, Dex 8, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 17, Cha 10
Attacks Mace +6 melee (1d6+4 damage)
Background: Acolyte
Skills: Arcana +3, Insight +5, Intimidation +2, History +5, Medicine +5, Persuasion +2, Religion +5
SA Darkvision, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Knowledge Domain, Channel Divinity (1/rest), Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency in a tool or skill for 10 minutes)
Spells (DC 13, 4 1st level and 3 2nd level slots/day): 0/Light, 0/Sacred Flame, 0/Spare the Dying, 0/Thaumaturgy, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Detect Evil and Good, 1/Guiding Bolt, 1/Command, 1/Identify, 2/Hold Person, 2/Lesser Restoration, 2/Prayer of Healing, 2/Warding Bond, 2/Augury, 2/Suggestion
Equipment: Half Plate, +1 Mace, Shield


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 98

Kosk’s stomach gurgled unpleasantly as he stepped through the back door of the inn into the muddy courtyard behind it.  There was a time when the greasy, fatty fare at a place like the Brown Barrel would not have fazed him in the least; he supposed that the years of eating the healthier cuisine available at the monastery had softened his stomach.

The jakes was housed in a small wooden structure adjacent to the stable that had a definite lean to it.  As he approached, the door in the side swung open and a dwarf appeared, still fastening his belt as he stepped out into the yard.  Kosk barely gave him a look—the population of Wildrush was roughly a quarter dwarvish, a relic of its history as a mining town—but as the two passed the other gave him an intense, squinting look.  The monk was used to such scrutiny, especially from other dwarves, as his clean-shaven features and loose garments were quite atypical for his kind.  He’d left his staff inside, but resisted the urge to finger one of the darts stuck through his bracers as he started inside.

“Kosk?”

The monk paused with his hand on the door and turned slowly.  The other dwarf looked rather hard-worn.  He was dressed in a leather tunic over a shirt that looked like it had seen better days, and there was a hole in one boot that showed a toenail encrusted with dirt.  He was armed only with the short knife that seemed ubiquitous here, but there was something in his manner that sent a sudden spike of alarm through Kosk.

“It _is_ you!” the other dwarf said.  “What’s this, you don’t remember your old mate?  It’s Kiefer!”

“Kiefer,” Kosk said.

“Aye.  Almost didn’t recognize you without the beard!  Whatja do, get it stuck in a rock crusher?”  Kiefer chortled at his own jest.  “And what’s with that outfit?  Lose a bet?”

Kosk didn’t respond to either jibe.  He did remember the other dwarf now.  “I would have thought someone would have stretched your neck by now,” he said.

Kiefer snorted.  “Not bloody likely!  Hey, what are you doing here?  You come in with that wagon train that just rolled into town?  You got a job going?”

“Not a job,” Kosk said, still a bit off-balance.  “Not that kind of job.”

“Gods above,” Kiefer said.  “Old Bloody-Fist himself, right here in the back of the Brown Barrel.  What are the chances, us meeting like this?  Me, I’m just making an honest buck now… well, mostly honest.  Always on the lookout for the chance to make a few extra coins.  Man’s got to keep his ears and eyes open, I always say.  Lots of chances in a place like this.  But look at who I’m talking to!  Kosk Stonefist, master of the main chance.”

“Yes, well,” Kosk said, nodding significantly toward the reeking interior of the jakes.

“Ha!  Right!  Don’t stand between a man and his dump, I always says.  Say, we should catch up sometime, when you got less _pressin’_ matters to attend to.  Ha!  I’ll buy you a drink, eh?”

“Yeah, right,” Kosk said.  “Later.”  The other dwarf had already turned around and was headed back toward the inn.  From the way he walked he’d already had more than his share of the sour ale that the place seemed to specialize in.  Kosk’s eyes lingered on him until he’d gone inside.  For a moment his hand tightened on the door handle until it seemed like it would snap off from the pressure.

Then he swung the door open and went in.

* * *

The sun made a spectacular display on the scattered clouds as it descended below the uneven line of the valley rim, but Bredan’s attention was focused on the closer surroundings of the town around him.  From his vantage atop the second-story balcony that ran along the side of the inn that faced the main street he could see most of Wildrush.  There were people out and about as the day faded, but it looked like most of them were hurrying to finish their errands and head indoors.  Bredan saw a lot of them glancing up at the sky.  From what he could tell of Wildrush the wooden buildings wouldn’t offer much protection against a creature that could fly and breathe fire, but he supposed even a dubious shelter was preferable to nothing at all.

The door creaked open and Bredan glanced back to see Glori stepping out onto the balcony.  There were two empty chairs further down from Bredan, but she avoided them and instead settled onto the sill of one of the windows that opened into their suite of rooms.  The lodgings at the Brown Barrel were hardly fancy, but it seemed likely that Wildrush had offered its best to the small band of adventurers.  The wagon drivers and other surviving members of the expedition from Adelar had been offered quarters in the barracks near the main gate, but Glori had been too excited at the thought of her own room to accept that as an option.

Glori didn’t say anything, and for the moment the two of them just watched the night settle upon the town in silence.  Finally, she said, “Okay, spill it.”

Bredan blinked and looked at her.  He had to twist his head around to do it, which had probably been why she’d chosen her current seat.  “What?” he asked.

“Something’s up with you,” she said.  “I can tell that something’s been bothering you, so tell me what it is.”

“It’s nothing,” he said.

At that she did come around and took the chair next to him, turning it so she could look at him directly.  “I’d like to think I know you better than anybody,” she said.  “And that after all that’s happened, all that we’ve been through, you can tell me anything.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but she could tell that he was collecting his thoughts.  He kept staring out at the town, although the deepening night made it increasingly difficult to see anything.  Glori sometimes had to remind herself that he lacked the night vision that was a gift of her mixed heritage, but right now it didn’t matter.  She knew that he wasn’t looking into the present.

“Something happened, back in the fight with those giants,” he finally said.

Glori shuddered.  “We came pretty close to all getting killed,” she said.

“It’s not that,” he said.  “I mean, yes, of course I’ve thought about that, but this… this isn’t that.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Something… magical.”  He looked over at her as if to confirm that she was there, patient and waiting.  It took him a while, since he still didn’t have a clear understanding of what had happened himself, but he explained the magical shield that had blocked the ogre’s killing blow, and the way his sword had gone over the cliff only to reappear in his hand.

When he was finished he waited for her to say something about how he must have been confused, or dazed from being knocked from his horse, but she only looked thoughtful.  She tapped her chin with a finger and said, “So you cast a spell?”

“It’s not like that,” he said.  “I don’t know the first thing about magic, what you and Quellan do.  It was more… instinct.  I’m not sure what I did.”

“That sounds more like the magic that Xeeta used,” Glori said.  “Wild magic.  Can you do it again?”

“I’ve tried,” he said.  “I can’t make it work again.”

She got up, but only to grab the baldric that he’d hung on the back of his chair.  The town was supposed to be safe, but with the chimera out there Bredan hadn’t wanted to be separated from his weapon for even a moment.  She drew the blade out, with a bit of difficulty due to its size and weight.  Then she went to the window and pulled it open before tossing the sword onto one of the beds inside the room.

“Go ahead and try to summon it,” she said.

“Like I said, I’ve tried…”

“You said it was like instinct,” she said.  “So maybe the magic only works when you have a great need.  Close your eyes and focus.  Try to imagine that the chimera’s out there right now, circling in the sky.  Pretend that the town is in danger, that _we’re_ in danger, and you need the weapon right now, more than anything.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.  He lifted his hands as if to grasp the hilt of the sword.  His brow furrowed with concentration, but nothing happened, and after a moment he sagged back in his chair.

“I told you,” he said.

“Don’t give up just yet,” she said.  “But first… do you have any idea about why this might have happened to you?”

Bredan’s face suggested he hadn’t been looking forward to the question.  “I think it might have been that book,” he said.

“Book?  What book?”

“The one in the ruin, where we fought that ghoul.”

“Ghast,” Glori corrected.  She shuddered again; she remembered that particular battle quite well.  “The one that Xeeta took, the one that crumbled to dust.”

“Yes.  But when we found it, I looked inside it.  It was covered in writing, all scrunched together.”

“But I thought the book was blank.”

“When Xeeta distracted me, I looked back and it was.  But there _was_ something there.  I only saw it for a moment, but sometimes I still feel like I can still remember the words, if not the language.”

“Huh.  And you don’t remember what it said?”

“No, it looked like complete gibberish.”

“That’s when you started getting those headaches, as I recall,” she said.

Bredan nodded.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Fine.  Really.  I mean, tired, and my back’s a bit sore…”

“Yeah, tell me about it.  Next time we take a trip by wagon, I’m buying a cushion.  Ten cushions.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you considered talking to Quellan?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  But right now, I’d prefer it if you kept this to between us.”

“Sure.  Just promise you’ll tell me if the headaches come back, or if anything else happens, okay?  We’ve come too far for you to leave me alone in this place with monsters and giants and the like, not to mention a whole army of goblins that might appear at any second.”

“You said you wanted adventure,” he said.  But on seeing the look on her face he added, “I promise.”

She touched his shoulder.  “It’s okay.  We’ll figure this out.”  She got up.  “Want to come buy me a drink?”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said.  She patted him again and then went back inside, leaving him alone in the deepening gloom, watching the town as the night enveloped it.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 99

The camp was situated in a niche in the cliffs, atop a broad stone shelf that offered a good view of the adjacent forest.  Kurok had chosen this spot because it was both defensible and yet far enough within the valley to serve as a useful base of operations.  The southern part of the valley tapered until it culminated in these cliffs, crumbling walls that rose in places to over a hundred paces above the forest floor.  The peak that gave the place its name was visible in the north above the treetops, looking almost close enough to touch.  Kurok knew that was an illusion, one that masked the danger that lie in that direction.

The camp was far more disordered than a hobgoblin warcamp would have been, but that could perhaps be forgiven given the nature of his current companions.  Even as he watched from the protruding rock where he’d chosen to take his rest several goblins were working to assemble loose stones into a breastwork that would shield the entrance to the niche when they were finished.  At the pace they were going that would be maybe a month, but the chore kept them busy when they weren’t out on scouting duty.  And every little bit helped, Kurok mused.

Suddenly every one of the worgs that was lounging in the sun lifted its head and let out a low growl that was directed at the forest.  The goblins quickly ceased their labors and recovered their weapons.  One ran for his mount, but stopped when Kurok rose and said, “It’s all right.  Stay here, but remain wary.”

The goblins and their pets obeyed, but Kurok could feel their intent stares on his back as he walked forward to the edge of the shelf.  The slope that led down to the forest was steep, rocky, and clear of the scattered brush that had littered it on their initial arrival.  They were still being careful, lighting fires only after full dark and covering the tracks left by the scouting teams as best they could, but Kurok knew that the chance of discovery would only increase as his forces expanded their search.  Not that it mattered; he would continue even if his goal turned out to be within sight of the walls of the human town.  He would continue even if his goal was _within_ the human town.

He scanned the forest.  The trees were scattered thinly enough that he could see clearly for several hundred paces, but nothing stirred within the woods as far as he could see.  But he could sense what had alerted the worgs, a sensation akin to a soft tickle upon the back of his neck.

He resisted the sudden urge to seize hold of his magic.  “Come forward,” he said instead, in a voice that was not raised but still carried to the trees.

A _shape_ responded.  It was closer than he would have guessed, on the very fringes of where the trees ended.  It was the size of a large goblin or maybe a small hobgoblin, colored to blend smoothly in with its surroundings.  It wasn’t just good camouflage; the colors _shifted_ as it moved, continuing to adapt to what was around it.

As the shrouded figure approached Kurok could see it more clearly.  The shifting drape parted to reveal dark trousers and knee-high black boots that found easy purchase on the awkward slope.  The figure hastened its pace slightly as it came closer, but Kurok held up a hand to stop it.

“Show yourself,” he commanded.

The stranger hesitated, then reached up and drew back his cowl.  As the weak afternoon sunlight played across his face he flinched back, one hand coming up to shield his eyes.  The light revealed thin features, with slanted brows and pointed ears.  Pale hair that was almost pure white framed skin that was as dark as coal.

“You are Vedaros?” Kurok asked.

“Who else would I be?” the other challenged.  The drow finished his climb, still squinting in obvious discomfort against the sunlight.

Kurok let the other’s attitude pass, for the moment.  “I am Kurok.  I am of the Blooded.”

“I figured,” Vedaros said.  “Your camp isn’t very well concealed.  I could smell it half a mile off.”

“I have scouts well out,” Kurok said.

“They did not detect me.”

“No,” Kurok said, thinking to have a word about that with Usk later.  “Isn’t that a bit _ironic_, wearing that cloak?”

Vedaros made a sour grin and flourished the _elven cloak_.  It shimmered as the enchantment upon it tried to keep up with the sudden movement.  “Do you like it?  Is it not appropriate that I garb myself in the styles of the surface world, now?”

Kurok made a small gesture.  “Come, unless you prefer to stand out here in the open.”

“Lead, and I shall follow,” the drow said.

The camp lacked anything approaching real privacy, though there was a space far back in the cleft where an overhanging slab of rock created a small chamber.  Vedaros looked relieved to be out of the sunlight, though he remained obviously wary as Kurok gestured for him to seat himself on one of the loose boulders that cluttered the space.  The hobgoblin took another that both placed the cliff wall at his back and gave him a clear view of the rest of the camp.

“I was told you would have a company of giants with you,” Kurok said once they were settled.

The drow’s expression quickly soured at that.  “They proved… unreliable.”

“You could not control them?”

“The ogres proved biddable enough, but they no longer live.”

“You had best explain what has happened,” Kurok said.

The hobgoblin’s expression did not shift as Vedaros gave a brief overview of the battle that had led to the death of most of his force.  “We might have gained victory, had not the giant decided to take his leave,” the drow said.

“It appears that you escaped easily enough,” Kurok noted.

Anger flashed in the drow’s dark eyes.  “My orders were to keep the valley isolated and to prevent supplies from reaching the town.”

“It would seem that this objective was not achieved.”

“The escort of this caravan was more powerful than I was led to believe,” Vedaros said.  “They included veteran warriors and spellcasters, multiple casters.”

“I was told that your own command of the arcane arts was… significant,” Kurok said.

“I destroyed the wagon carrying the armaments for the garrison,” Vedaros shot back.  “How would a hundred crossbows and several barrels of ammunition have affected your mission?”

Kurok noted that detail.  He had known that the Blooded had a source of information in the humans’ lands, but apparently Vedaros had access to rather specific knowledge that could prove useful.  “A mission that will be that much more challenging without the forces that were entrusted to you,” the warlock said.

Vedaros got up and strode back and forth in the confined space.  Kurok was amazed how easily the dark elf got rattled.  On the one hand it would make him easier to manipulate, but on the other it did not bode well for him as a resource.  Kurok waited until the drow gathered himself.  “What’s done is done,” Vedaros finally said.  “I am here to provide support to your mission.  Your scouts, have they found anything yet?”

Kurok did not answer the question directly.  “Time is an important factor, but we must be cautious,” he said.  “The humans must not be alerted to our presence, especially if they have been reinforced by powerful individuals like the ones who destroyed your force.”

Vedaros waved a hand dismissively.  “They are not likely to be a problem.  The town folk barely stir from behind their walls, especially now.”

Kurok looked at him.  “Why especially now?”

“Then you did not know?  A chimera has intruded upon the north valley.  It assaulted the town a few days ago, though it did not cause much damage.  I had thought that our… associates might have been behind its presence.”

There was some prodding there, but Kurok ignored it as he had the drow’s other provocations.  He looked thoughtful.  “I need more information.  It is my understanding that we have a resource in the town?”

Vedaros made a small snort.  “He is unlikely to be of much use.”

“Surely he would at least know something of the various candidate sites in the north valley, at least.”  At the look on the other’s face Kurok continued, “You have not spoken with him?”

Vedaros yanked up the sleeve of his coat to reveal the inky black skin of his arm.  “I cannot exactly stroll into Wildrush now, can I?”

Kurok took a deep breath and resisted the urge to smear the drow’s brains across the rock face.  “Your kind is supposed to be resourceful,” he said.  Vedaros opened his mouth, but before he could say anything his eyes flicked to the side.  Kurok turned and saw that Usk had returned.  The goblin chief looked like he’d run afoul of trouble.  Fresh dirt was caked on his coat, and specks of blood were visible on his leggings.

“What happened?” Kurok asked.

“One of the scouting parties was attacked,” Usk said.  “By giant bird-creatures.  Ferocious things.  They slew two goblins and one of the worgs, and crippled the other.  They flew off when we arrived, but they took the bodies of my riders with them.”

“Describe these bird-creatures,” Kurok said.

“They had the bodies of eagles, but the heads of stags.  There were four that we saw, but from the signs there may have been more.”

“Perytons,” Vedaros said.

Kurok nodded.  “Great One, our weapons, they had little effect upon the creatures,” Usk said.  “They shrugged off even the bites from the worgs.”

“The creatures are resistant to all but magical weapons,” Vedaros said dismissively.

Kurok didn’t look back at the drow.  “Gather your riders,” he said to Usk.  “I will go to deal with these beasts myself.”

“As you command, Blooded,” the goblin said before withdrawing.

“They will likely avoid a large group,” Vedaros said.

Kurok turned and cut off what else the drow had been about to say with a hard look.  “You will go to Wildrush and make contact with the spy.  You will do it _quietly_, and not draw attention to yourself or our mission.  You will extract a detailed report from this individual.  And you will make sure that your giant-killers do not interfere with our plans.”

“Those instructions are inherently contradictory,” Vedaros said, but after a moment the expression on Kurok’s face caused him to look away.  “Very well,” he said.  “What will you do?”

“What I have to,” Kurok said.  “Whatever I have to do, to accomplish my mission.  Do not forget that, drow.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 100

The terrain to the north of Wildrush grew increasingly rugged the further the small party moved away from the town.  Occasionally they emerged from mazes of ravines and ridges or dense stands of trees to see the snowcapped heights of Silverpeak in the distance, but for the most part they were unable to see more than fifty paces away in any direction.

Bredan knew that was partly by design.  Rodan led them along trails that only he knew, when the blacksmith could even see a trail at all.  The ranger avoided routes that looked easy but which would have left them completely exposed and visible from a great distance to something flying above.  The man seemed to be in his element, and Bredan could respect the simple fact of his competence.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed; he caught Glori giving the man an evaluative look more than once.  Kosk was less generous in his praise; he frequently muttered comments under his breath as the ranger directed them into a particularly challenging piece of landscape.

Bredan knew that the dwarf’s ire wasn’t really for Rodan.  As they were making their way through a gully that was choked with dense tangles of thorny brush, Bredan saw Kosk glance back and heard him mutter, “They face a known threat, and the best they can manage is half measures.”

Rodan was a good ten paces ahead, but he stopped and looked at them.  “These men aren’t hunters,” he said, careful to keep his voice low enough so that the men bringing up the rear of their small column couldn’t hear.  “Breaking up a few fights and standing a few watches doesn’t prepare a man for something like this.”

The others had stopped as well.  The three men that had come from Wildrush with them seemed to sense that they were the topic of the exchange.  One of them they knew already; Willem was one of the surviving guards that had come up from Adelar with them.  The other two were locals, Jakob and Viktor.  Both had come from Lydon’s small force of soldiers, but Rodan’s words seemed appropriate in their case.  Despite their long leather tunics studded with iron rivets and the iron-rimmed caps they wore they looked like most of the other men in the frontier town, hard-edged and scruffy.  They carried their crossbows with obvious unease, but they _had_ volunteered.  Bredan wondered what incentives Brownwell had offered.

“We’re all here because we have a duty,” Bredan said, loudly enough that everyone could hear.  “If we don’t stop that thing it will keep coming until it’s dead or Wildrush is destroyed.  Better to face it out here where nobody else can get hurt, than there.”

“Indeed,” Quellan said.

Rodan gave Bredan a long look.  “A wise truth,” he said.

“Damn straight,” Glori said.  “And this is too great a story to pass up.  A heroic band of heroes, setting out from a town under siege to hunt down a monster from legends.  I can assure you that each of you will get your own stanza in the ballad I will write of our deeds this day.”

She directed her comments at the three soldiers, and managed to draw a few nervous laughs out of them.

“Come on,” Rodan said.  “We shouldn’t linger here.  It will take a hard pace to reach the High Hollows by nightfall.”

The ranger proved true to his word, forcing them to a grueling pace that nevertheless accomplished only slow progress over the difficult terrain.  They paused for a brief rest at midday, deep within the cover of a dense copse of ancient trees, but they’d barely finished their cold meal before Rodan was chivvying them forward again.  They had brought enough food for a couple of days, and there were plenty of streams where they could fill their water bottles, but none of them wanted to be night to catch them anywhere near the chimera’s lair.

As the day crept on the tree cover began to thin, and finally they emerged at the base of a long, rocky rise.  Formations of exposed granite jutted from the steep slope, fashioned into odd shapes by centuries of wind and water.  Occasionally one of those features had been shaped into a natural arch, some of them large enough for a wagon and full team to ride through without difficulty.  They could just make out the dark mouths of caves up near the summit, where the ascent culminated at the base of fifty-foot cliffs that ringed the area.  The protruding rocks and natural curves of the terrain left enough hiding places to conceal a hundred chimeras.

“We’re getting close,” Rodan said quietly.  The warning was unnecessary, Bredan thought.  He could feel a sense of wrongness here, like when you struck a piece of bad iron in the forge.

The ranger led them forward again, weaving a path between the various rock formations, extracting every bit of cover from the scattered patches of growth that dotted the hillside.  The others followed him in single-file, duplicating his steps as best they could.

They had barely covered fifty paces when a loud roar shattered the afternoon quiet.  Birds scattered in the trees behind them, the furious rustle of their wings fading as they fled the scene.  The companions all froze for a heartbeat, then reached for their weapons.  Viktor cursed as the bolt dropped from its groove in his bow, the steel head clinking softly as it landed in the rocks.  Kosk shot him a withering look.  Bredan started to take a halting step, looking for cover, but froze as Rodan held up a hand in warning.  The ranger remained utterly still, his eyes fixed on the summit ahead.

They waited as the seconds crept on.  Nothing stirred, no shifting shadows, no flash of wings.  Finally, Rodan lowered his hand.  “Keep moving,” he said.

“At least we know it’s home,” Glori said.  “Would be a big waste of time if we came all this way to visit for nothing.”

Bredan didn’t respond, focusing on placing his feet in places where they wouldn’t cause any loose rocks to clatter free.  To his ears the soft scrapes of their boots on the stony ground seemed painfully loud.  He wondered how well chimeras could hear, given that they had three sets of ears.  He should have asked Quellan before they left.  He should have asked more questions about their weaknesses, if they even had any.

Realizing that he was getting dangerously close to panic, he tried to focus on the breathing exercises that his uncle had taught him.

Rodan didn’t stop until they reached the shelter of one of the larger rock formations.  This one was the size of a crofter’s cottage, with a fringe around the top where a few particularly stubborn weeds had found tiny cracks to sprout in.  It gave the stone the vague look of an old man who was nearly bald.

The ranger paused in the shadow of the huge rock, gesturing for the others to gather behind him.  He waited until they were all close enough to hear him at a whisper before he spoke.  “We’ll take a moment here.  Catch your breath, gather yourselves.  From here on up there isn’t much cover.”

“You’ve been here before, then?” Glori asked.

“Aye.  Though never hunting something like this.”  He gave a wry look then crept slowly forward to scout around the edge of the boulder.

Quellan tapped Glori on the shoulder.  As she turned to look at him, he leaned in close while he dug something out of his pouch.  “I’d like you to take this,” he said.

She looked down and saw that he’d produced a ring, a plain band of silver.  No, she amended as she studied it more closely, it was _platinum_, even that simple circle likely worth as much as her shirt of mail.

“Are you asking me to become betrothed to you?” she asked.

Quellan’s mouth dropped open and he nearly dropped the ring.  The half-orc could not blush, but it was certainly easy to embarrass him, she thought.  “No, nothing like… that is, I… It’s a magical focus,” he said, recovering enough to finish his thought.  “It will help protect you from harm.”

She took the ring and held it up to look at it carefully.  It’s wasn’t completely plain as she’d first thought; there were faint, spidery runes etched into the metal.  She could not read them; divine magic did not function the way her own spells worked.  “Maybe you should give it to one of the warriors,” she said.

“I would feel better if you wore it,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.  She took off the glove on her right hand and slid the ring onto her middle finger.  It fit perfectly.  “Do I have to do anything…”

“Just stay close to me.  Within fifty or sixty feet.  The spell will last for an hour.”  He reached out and touched the ring, and she felt a slight jolt, nothing painful, just a brief sensation that faded quickly.  “Watch yourself out there,” she said.  She knew that he would be right in the thick of the fight, running to help anyone injured in the battle.  Her own role was more of a supporting one, though she had her bow in addition to her magic.  Even with all of the training she’d done with Bredan, she doubted that she would have much success against a foe like the chimera with her sword.

Rodan returned and waved them forward.  Before they stepped out from the shadow of the boulder he turned and met their eyes once more.  “Remember from this point on there is no retreat.  If you run, that thing will catch you.”

“We won’t run, archer,” Kosk said.  “Just find where it’s hiding, and we’ll do the rest.”

“Perhaps some of us could linger here, in cover,” Quellan suggested.  He nodded toward the three soldiers.  “Wait for the others to flush the beast out.”

Rodan considered a moment and nodded.  “We should not cluster together too closely in any case,” he said.  “Remember, the chimera breathes fire.  But don’t get too separated, we don’t want to be picked off one by one, and there’s no telling from which direction the creature may strike.”

“We’ll follow your lead,” Glori said.  “This is your area of expertise.”

“At least until the fighting starts,” Kosk said.

“Right,” Rodan said.  “Let’s be about it, then.”

The ranger led them back up the slope.  After just a few minutes in the shade of the boulder the bright afternoon sunlight seemed blinding to Bredan’s eyes.  He had his crossbow, a bolt loaded and ready to fire, though he hadn’t had much luck with it thus far.  But he’d only get to use his sword if the monster chose to face them on the ground.

He had only completed maybe twenty steps since emerging from the shadow of the boulder when he felt something.  It was that premonition of dread, but sharper now, a sudden twisting in his gut that had him turning slowly around.  His eyes drifted up, to the top of the boulder…

The descriptions from the townsfolk and Quellan’s accounts from his book could never have done this thing justice.  It was huge, its body oversized to accommodate the three heads that sprouted from its torso.  Its wings were half-folded across its back, but that hinted at a wingspan that likely could have enveloped even the considerable mass of the boulder upon which it perched.  Bredan could see the way its claws bit into the stone as it shifted forward.

But worst of all were the heads.  They were as described: a goat, a lion, and worst of all the dragon, its scales glistening in the bright sunlight.  There was an intelligence in each of those sets of eyes as they met Bredan’s, savoring his terror.

He tried to shout a warning, but only a terrible, feral sound escaped his lips.  That was enough to alert his companions, who turned as one to face the beast.  One of the Wildrush soldiers screamed.

Those screams were abruptly ended as the dragon head gaped wide and unleashed a gout of fire upon the men of the rear guard, incinerating all three of them.  Even as they collapsed, burning, the lion head opened wide and issued a terrible roar of challenge that echoed off of the surrounding cliffs.


----------



## carborundum

Yikes! A classic weekend cliffhanger for post #100 - thanks Lazybones!


----------



## Lazybones

You're welcome! I love those Friday cliffhangers as much as you guys do. I was rereading the Rappan Athuk thread last weekend, and found myself caught up in the story (and the many comments from readers) once again.

* * *

Chapter 101

The chimera fell into a crouch and Bredan tensed, anticipating a leap down from the boulder to finish what it had begun by killing the three soldiers.  But when the creature sprang forward it spread its huge wings, launching it up into the air.  The wings unleashed a windstorm beneath it, filling Bredan’s face with dust and smoke from the conflagration it had just unleashed.

But as the monster passed overhead he saw that his companions were already attacking.  Arrows flew up to meet it, and there was even a tiny flash that had to be one of Kosk’s knives.  He couldn’t tell if any of the attacks hit, but they reminded him that he held a weapon of his own and that he wasn’t using it.  Shaking his head to clear it of the blinding grit, he raised his crossbow to his shoulder and fired.  The shot flew embarrassingly wide, but he ignored the failure and reached for the weapon’s cocking hook.

His haste appeared to be unnecessary; the chimera was already a hundred paces away and gaining altitude.  But as the survivors of its first assault watched it spread its wings wide and began to bank hard to the left, passing close to the cliffs before turning back toward them.

“It’s coming back!” Glori yelled, just in case any of them weren’t watching.

“Spread out!” Rodan said.  “Take cover!”

Bredan looked around, but there was no cover to be had; none of the rocks nearby rose higher than his shin, and the massive boulder behind him was too far to reach before the chimera’s return.  Resolving that this time he wouldn’t cower, he quickly cocked his bow.  Setting a fresh bolt into its groove, he looked up to see the chimera approaching fast; it looked like it was coming right for him.  All three of its jaws opened wide, but it was the dragon’s that he focused on.  Was that a glow he saw forming within that terrible maw?

The lion’s head roared again, and he again he raised his crossbow.  This time he took more care in aiming, but even as he pulled the trigger the creature jerked suddenly to the side.  He cursed as the bolt flew through the space it would have been had it not moved, but he just had time to see an arrow jutting from its side before the dragon head turned and unleashed another gout of flame.

He tried to dive to the side, but the seeking fire found him.  Searing heat scorched the left side of his face, and he thought he could feel the flesh crinkling against that assault.  He was dimly aware of the creature’s passage as it flashed overhead, and then it was gone.

In an instant someone was at his side.  “Bredan!  Are you all right?”

It was Glori, already reaching for her lyre to summon her magic.  While she’d proven that she did not need the silver instrument to cast spells, it still helped her to focus her power.  Bredan felt a sweeping relief as the pain of his burns suddenly eased.  He resisted the urge to reach up and touch the side of his face that had gotten scorched.  Instead he staggered to his feet.  Glori’s clothes were a bit singed as well, suggesting that she’d been caught in the chimera’s breath attack as well.

He wasn’t the only one to notice.  “Are you both all right?” Quellan yelled at them.  The others had followed Rodan’s command and spread out at the creature’s approach, but the cleric started tentatively forward in case they needed additional healing.

“I’m fine,” Bredan said to Glori, and she shouted back, “We’re both all right!”

“It’s coming around again!” Kosk warned, drawing their attention back to the sky.

The chimera’s dive had taken it down the length of the slope it had taken them such difficulty to climb earlier.  It had swung out over the forest, just clearing the tops of the tallest trees, and was once more swinging around back toward them.  It seemed to be taking its time.  Maybe it did not consider them a threat, Bredan thought.  Then again, thus far they had not done much to prove it wrong.

“Get ready!” Rodan shouted.  The ranger had not been idle, seeking out the cover of one of the other rock formations that littered the area, a stone pillar as thick around as a syrewood tree.  Prodding Glori in front of him, Bredan grabbed his crossbow and ran toward the huge boulder where the creature had originally appeared.  He didn’t bother trying to reload the weapon, instead focusing on covering ground quickly.

The chimera was picking up speed as well, dipping into another diving attack.  Glori paused to shoot her bow, and Bredan cursed, thinking that she wouldn’t reach the protection of the boulder before it could breathe fire again.  If her arrow hit, it didn’t seem to faze the creature at all.

But then the creature jerked up again, and Bredan could see an arrow sticking out from the creature’s goat head, the shaft embedded in its neck right behind the jaw.  All three heads let out a terrible sound, then the chimera swept around to the right.  Bredan could see at once where it was going.  Rodan tried to dart back into cover, reaching for another arrow as he did so, but the chimera merely altered its angle of approach, holding its breath until it had veered around the obstacle.

Then it breathed.

There was nowhere for the ranger to go.  The flames enveloped him, sweeping around the stone pillar.  Bredan felt a cold feeling clutch his gut as the chimera shot past, leaving just a swirling haze of black smoke and burning brush in its wake.

Quellan started running toward the pillar, though Bredan could not see how the ranger could have survived that direct blast.  But before he could decide what to do he saw that the chimera had changed course again; instead of continuing in another broad loop over the cliffs it had banked into a tight curve that had it standing up almost straight upon one wingtip before it turned back toward them.  This time its dive was steeper, its intent clear as it swept down toward them.

Bredan reached for his sword as Kosk yelled, “Here it comes!”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 102

Once more the chimera came tearing down out of the sky, but this time Bredan could sense that it was done with tormenting them, that this time it was going to stick around until they were all dead.

He was about to run toward it when he felt a presence at his shoulder.  Glori’s touch was light, but he felt a familiar sensation of power and potency as her magic flowed into him.  “Stand fast,” she said.

There was no time even to thank her for the intervention.  He drew his sword as he ran forward, but he saw he would not reach it before it landed, near where Quellan and Kosk were standing further up the slope.  The cleric held his ground, presenting his holy symbol to the monstrous beast.  There was a familiar flash of golden light, and for a moment a beam of radiant energy seemed to connect the half-orc and his foe.  The _guiding bolt_ surrounded the chimera with a limning glow, but that was not enough to get it to change its course.

Even as Quellan reached for his mace the creature landed a few paces short of him and charged forward.  It lowered its goat head as its momentum carried it into the cleric with the force of a battering ram.  Quellan was lifted off his feet and flung flying back into the rocks.  He bounced hard and flipped over before coming to a shuddering halt a good ten paces back from where he had started.

The chimera did not get a chance to exploit its advantage as Kosk came barreling into it from the flank.  The dragon head swiveled on its longer neck to face him, but he smacked it hard with his staff, knocking it back.  He followed that up with a kick that smashed into the chimera’s knee.  Bredan had seen that blow crumple joints, but it barely seemed to faze the monster.  It reared up and lunged at the monk.  Kosk tried to dodge, but the lion head’s jaws snapped down onto his shoulder, yanking him up into the air.  Even held he tried to punch at the lion’s eyes, but the chimera flung him into the air right in front of its claws.  Kosk twisted in mid-air but could not avoid both sets of claws.  Even from ten steps away Bredan could see the bright droplets of blood that flashed in the air from the grievous wounds it inflicted.

As the dwarf fell to the ground Bredan shouted a cry to draw the chimera’s attention away from his friends.  The dragon head turned toward him, and for a moment he felt a terror that it would unleash another blast of fire upon him.  But instead all three heads focused on him, and the lion roared another challenge as it reared back and then sprang forward to attack.

Bredan’s uncle had trained him to fight with all sorts of weapons and against all kinds of foes, but nothing could have prepared him for this.  But even so he stood his ground, and at the last moment he ducked low and darted to the side, avoiding the chimera’s rush.  He stabbed blindly with his sword; he felt the jolt of impact shoot through his arms and it was all he could do to keep his grip on the weapon.

The chimera recovered quickly and came at him again.  Gods, the thing was _fast_.  If he had hurt it the wound hadn’t slowed it down, and he stumbled back as first the dragon head and then the goat head snapped at him, the former trying to bite, the latter trying to pound him with its horns.  He pivoted to face the lion before he realized his mistake.  Too late he stumbled back, too late to avoid the claws that tore into his legs.  His long coat of mail kept him from being shredded, but he still felt the gashes that the sharp claws tore into his flesh.

The chimera followed him as he gave ground, knowing that one misstep on the uneven ground would end it for him.  But even if he remained upright, he knew there was no way he could withstand another assault like that.  The creature was just too powerful, and even with Glori’s _heroism_ spell bolstering him there was only so much damage his much smaller body could absorb.

But even as those thoughts flashed through his mind, Bredan detected movement out of the corner of his eye.  To the creature’s left he saw Quellan and Kosk, both bloody but moving back toward the fight.  That was impressive but not unexpected given what he knew of both men.  But to his surprise he saw movement on the far side of the creature as well.  He only barely caught himself before making a telltale shift that would have warned the creature.  He already knew that its three heads gave it very sharp senses.

_Have to keep it busy_, he thought.

So instead of continuing to retreat, he attacked.  The battle cry he made was hardly more coherent than the creature’s roar, but it surely got its attention.  It was clearly wary of his sword; now that he was facing it he could see a deep gash in its chest where his blind thrust earlier had scored.  He targeted the dragon head, considering it the greatest threat, but as he lunged the chimera reared up and batted his sword away with one massive paw.  Bredan stumbled to the side, clearly knocked off-balance by the maneuver.  The creature immediately surged forward to take advantage.  Bredan’s lips twisted into a slight smile.

“Got you,” he said.

Twisting his body, sliding back the leg he’d not so carelessly placed when he’d fallen, he brought the sharp point of his sword up to meet the chimera’s rush.  The creature, caught by surprise, tried to shift its momentum but still impaled itself on the steel shaft.  Bredan could feel that it wasn’t a killing blow, but the monster couldn’t shake off that deep wound so easily.  But while his stratagem had been successful, it had left him well within the chimera’s reach.  Another claw struck him, and he felt a crack in his forearm as the bone snapped.  Then his vision was filled with the sight of the creature’s goat head driving down to meet his.

The next thing he knew he was on his back, dazed.  He somehow managed to bring his eyes back into focus, but he almost wished he hadn’t.  The chimera was still there, still alive and fighting, all three heads still facing him.

_Oh, well,_ he thought.

But when he blinked and looked again, he saw that monster was having its own troubles.  The goat head that had just knocked him down was hanging at an odd angle.  A moment later saw that it wasn’t his own thick skull that had broken it, but Quellan’s mace.  The half-orc pressed forward as Kosk appeared in his wake.  The reason why the chimera hadn’t been able to turn to face the pair became evident as Bredan saw that the dwarf had repeated his trick on the creature’s other knee, leaving both of its front limbs damaged and unable to react as swiftly as it had.

Still it tried to turn, flapping its wings in an attempt to compensate for the damage done to its legs.  But as it rose up Bredan saw another face he hadn’t expected to see.  It was Rodan.  The ranger looked a mess, his cloak and armor a blackened ruin, his exposed flesh almost as dark where the chimera’s fiery breath had seared it.  But he was still fighting, and he’d fitted a new string to his bow that let out a sharp twang as he fired an arrow directly into the creature’s back.  He must have hit something important, for the chimera was suddenly convulsed by a titanic spasm.  It reared up again, but this time there was no fury in its assault, only an instinctive response to pain.  Bredan felt a moment’s horror that its wild struggles would crush him, but at the last instant it toppled over the other way, almost knocking over Quellan before its chaotic movements came to a halt.

Bredan tried to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth a wave of pain surged through his body.  He was barely aware of someone calling out his name before blissful unconsciousness swallowed him up and carried him away.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 103

Bredan dug in the ground with his dagger, still in its scabbard to protect the blade from rocks.  They’d had to retreat all the way to the base of the rise, almost to the edge of the forest, to find enough soil to dig proper graves, but even there it seemed that the ground consisted of rocks more than dirt.

His back hurt and his head still spun a little bit with every motion, but he didn’t complain.  When he thought of the punishment his body had suffered he had only to glance over at the three corpses covered in what was left of their own cloaks.  The cloaks weren’t enough to hide the charred remains underneath, even if he couldn’t smell the sharp stink of roasted flesh.

Quellan had already treated the survivors of the fight with his _prayer of healing_, and Glori had bolstered that with _cure wounds_ spells, but they were still not one hundred percent restored.  They’d all agreed however, to keep their limited supply of healing potions in reserve.  There were still dangers in this part of the valley, and they were not going to be able to make it back to Wildrush before nightfall.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Glori came over to him.  She had offered to dig the graves while he kept watch, but he’d said he was all right.  “I’m okay,” he said before she could ask again.  She nodded, taking a seat on an exposed rock close enough that she could talk to him without the others overhearing.  Quellan’s hole was already twice as big as Bredan’s, and Kosk was hard at work on the third and final grave.

“In the fight against the chimera,” she said, not taking her eyes off the forest as she spoke.  “That last part especially, when it came at you.  Did you try… you know?”

Bredan considered.  “To be honest, it didn’t even occur to me.  Maybe it was just a one-time thing.”

“Well, your sword certainly worked well enough,” she said.  She turned at the scraping sounds of someone coming down the slope.

It was Rodan, returning from his scouting of the chimera’s lair.  While it was unlikely that the creature had a mate or offspring, they weren’t going to take any chances.  The ranger was dragging something behind him, and as he got closer they could see that it was the severed dragon head of the chimera.

“You took a trophy?” Glori asked.

“It’s proof,” Kosk said as he stepped from his hole.  The dwarf had suggested that they build cairns for their fallen, but he hadn’t objected strenuously when Quellan had insisted on proper graves.  “The locals will be reassured if they can see hard evidence that the monster is dead.”

Rodan nodded in acknowledgement of the dwarf’s comment.  “Night approaches swiftly,” he said.  “I know a place where we can find shelter.  It’s not far from here.”

“This won’t take much longer,” Quellan said.

Rodan put down his burden and went over to help Bredan.  But before they could resume work on the graves Kosk said, “You fought well against that creature.  You seemed to know what you were doing.”

Rodan turned to look at him.  “I have some experience fighting monstrosities,” he said.

“You sound like you were surprised,” Bredan said to the dwarf.  “Governor Brownwell told us that he knew his business.”

Kosk rubbed his hands together to remove some of the dirt caking them.  “You know, when that thing breathed on you, I thought you were as dead as these brave fools here.  I certainly didn’t expect you to come back to the fight.”

Rodan didn’t move.  The others had all stopped working, and were looking at the ranger intently.  Finally he sighed and opened the collar of his coat.  The garment was heavily singed, and his skin was still dirty with char, but the fading light of the day flashed on a chain of silver links that supported a pendant studded with pale blue stones.  “I have a magic amulet,” he said reluctantly.  “I have some resistance to fire.”

Kosk spat on his hands then hopped back down into his half-finished hole.  “It might have been nice to share that little detail with us _before_ the fight,” he said.

“I can understand your reticence,” Glori said.  “We only just met a day ago, after all.  But we can trust each other now, right?”

“That’s right,” Quellan said.  “We proved we could rely on each other when it counted.  We defeated a terrible adversary, though at great cost.”

“Have you any more questions for me, master dwarf?” the ranger asked.

“If I do, I’ll let you know.”

They finished the graves in silence.  By the time they were done, with the three dead soldiers covered with earth and rocks, the last bit of sun was just dipping below the edge of the valley.  The evening breeze picked up as if taking its place, forewarning the night’s chill.

“We’d better get moving,” Glori said.  “I suspect we don’t want to be wandering around out here after full dark.”

“Shelter the souls of these brave men, who died protecting others,” Quellan said.  With that he bent to pick up the extra pack full of the gear they’d been able to salvage from the bodies, the little that hadn’t been destroyed by the chimera’s fiery breath.  “What is this shelter you spoke of?” he asked Rodan.

“It’s an old mining camp,” the ranger said.  “There are dozens of them scattered throughout the north valley, remnants of the last silver boom.  Most are in pretty sorry shape, but this one has four walls and a roof.”

“At this point, I would settle for trailbread and a rock for a pillow,” Glori said.  “This hero business can be quite tiring.”

“Don’t forget your proof,” Kosk said, nodding toward the dragon head.

Rodan picked it up and started toward the edge of the forest.  “This way,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Happy holidays to all of my regular readers! Hope your Christmas was great!

* * * 

Chapter 104

Shadows from the campfire danced on the uneven walls of their shelter.  Rodan had been wrong; they only had three walls, the last having collapsed under the weight of the sagging roof.  But the hut had originally been built to house a dozen miners, and there was plenty of room left for the five adventurers to make their camp.

Glori felt drowsy after the day’s travails, but she resisted the urge to crawl into her bedroll and let sleep claim her.  When Quellan picked up the dishes from their late supper and headed outside to clean them, she got up and followed him out.

The night was cool, the breeze stronger here along the valley’s edge than it was deeper within the forest.  Even with her darkvision she could only just make out Rodan from where he stood guard in the shadows on the far side of the camp.  The ranger had eaten quickly and then gone out to keep watch.  Either he truly did not appreciate company, or he was worried that something would stumble upon their camp in the night.

Quellan was over by the small stream that wound through the camp.  Most of the mining camps were situated in places like this, nestled in sheltered niches in the rocks or copses of ancient trees, close to running water.  Glori knew absolutely nothing about silver mining, but Majerion had told her stories about the kind of men who came to places like this.  They tended to be a solitary sort, willing to eschew the benefits of civilization for a chance of finding wealth hidden away in the ground.

She went over to the cleric.  Neither of them had any difficulty in the darkness, of course.  She glanced over at Rodan again.  With his human blood he’d be as blind in the night as Bredan, but somehow she doubted that he’d be caught off guard by anything the valley could throw at him.  There was something else about him, something that she couldn’t quite pin down.

She shook her head.  Rodan wasn’t why she’d come out here.  Quellan looked up as she knelt beside him, careful not to slip on the muddy bank of the stream.  Not that it mattered, really; they were all filthy.

“You should get some rest,” Quellan said.  “It will be a long walk back to town tomorrow.”

“I didn’t want to say anything, earlier, in front of everyone,” she told him.  “But I noticed something.”

He stopped washing the cookpot and their mess tins and looked at her.  In the darkness his eyes were wide black pools.  “Oh?”

She reached out and took hold of his shoulder.  He tensed slightly as her fingers pressed at the spot where his torso met up with his neck.

“I probably wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t tried to cover up the burns,” she said.  “Right where I got scorched by that breath attack.”  She held up her other hand to trace the line of skin running from her left ear to her shoulder.  The burns had faded, thanks to Quellan’s healing spell, but the skin was still a bit crimson, like a mild sunburn.

“I…” he began.

“Just tell me the truth,” she said.  “That ring you gave me, it wasn’t just a protection spell.”

“The spell is called _warding bond_,” he said.  “And it is a protection spell, it just…”

“It transfers some of the damage from me to you,” she finished for him.  “That’s dangerous,” she said.  “You could have been killed, especially if that thing had managed to come around for one more blast.”

“The spell doesn’t just share damage,” he said.  “It protects both of us… it makes it less likely for you to be hurt at all.  And I can take a lot of punishment.”

“Still, you should have told me.  Maybe I didn’t want that responsibility, did you consider that?”

“I am sorry.  But I consider it my role to protect… to protect all of you.  We are a team.  I meant what I said earlier, when we were talking to Rodan.”

“I know, but for there to be trust, there has to be honesty.  No secrets between us.”

For a long moment he just looked at her, then he nodded.  “Agreed.”

“Okay.  Now that that’s settled, let’s get these dishes clean and get back inside where it’s warm and we can _both_ get some sleep.  The others will need us to dish out more healing magic in the morning.”

“What we need, the gods will provide,” he said.

* * *

The night air greeted Bredan with its chill when he ducked out through the low entry to the ruined hut.  They’d hung a blanket over the doorway to keep the light and heat inside.  He stood there a moment to let his eyes adjust to the near-darkness, then made his way across their camp.

Glori had told him where Rodan was, otherwise he’d never have been able to find the man.  Even with that guidance he didn’t see the ranger until a shadow detached itself from a narrow gap between two boulders and stepped toward him.

“I drew the short straw,” Bredan said.  “First watch.”

“You can rest,” Rodan said.  “I prefer to stand watch alone.”

The man’s tone was dismissive, just short of hostile, but Bredan remained where he was.  “Me, I prefer to watch with a partner,” he said.  “What if I fall asleep?  Or miss something?  Who wants that responsibility.”

Rodan didn’t say anything, but after a moment he stepped aside.  Bredan came over to the larger of the two boulders and settled his weight against it.  The moon hadn’t yet risen, and the stars provided little in the way of light.  There were sounds in the darkness, scattered noises against the backdrop of the omnipresent breeze, but Bredan couldn’t make any sense of them.  He wagered that Rodan could, however.

“Have you been here for a long time?” Bredan asked.

There was a pause, and for a moment Bredan thought that the other man wouldn’t respond.  “Some years,” the ranger finally said.

“This place, it feels like the edge of the world to me,” Bredan said.

“It’s quiet.  Far away from… from the troubles of the world.”

“And yet they’ve found their way here.  The war, I mean.”

“There’s always war.  If not this one, then another.  Wherever men gather, there is conflict.”

“So you came up here to escape that?”

“Something like that.”

“It sounds kind of lonely.”

The ranger shifted slightly.  “For a time, it was what I thought I wanted.”

“And now?”

“Your friends.  They fight well.  You have been together long?”

“I’ve known Glori most of my life.  Quellan and Kosk, not quite so long.  But we’ve had a few adventures.  Getting here… it was a long journey.  I trust them with my life.”

“That’s a precious thing.”

“Yeah.”

They remained there in silence, but Rodan finally pushed himself up.  “We should keep watch on opposite sides of the camp.  Fewer blind spots.”

“Okay, sure,” Bredan said, but the ranger was already moving off.  The way he moved, the night seemed to absorb him into its essence.  Even knowing where he was, Bredan lost track of him before he’d taken five steps.

Pulling his cloak closer around him, he prepared himself for a boring stretch of hours ahead.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 105

Kurok waited just under the low branches of a pine tree and tried not to think about the sting of the wounds in his side.  He shifted his hand to the pair of claws he wore on a throng around his neck, a trophy from the recent encounter.

While he waited, he let his thoughts drift back to the brief but bloody fight.

Vedaris had been right about the perytons; they were too intelligent to be drawn in to an obvious trap.  So Kurok had headed into their territory alone.  While under the dense canopy of the forest he was mostly safe, but along the southwestern edge of the valley the trees had thinned as the ground grew increasingly rocky and rugged.  His scouts had reported that the entire region was a maze of gullies and ridges, with hidden canyons tucked in along the cliffs and steep ascents that concealed caves large enough to conceal his entire force and more.  There hadn’t been any time for them to explore further before they had come under assault by the region’s residents.

The perytons had obviously made their lair somewhere in that craggy expanse, likely somewhere atop the cliffs where they would be well-protected from approach by a ground-dweller like himself.  But that was all right; he was interested in bringing them to him.

He’d planned on drawing attention to himself with a display of magic, but that hadn’t been necessary.  He’d barely emerged from the woods when he caught sight of a winged form drifting high over the cliffs.  Even from a distance the odd juxtaposition of its features was instantly obvious.  The thing seemed to be circling idly, not interested in him.

But as it turned out, the monsters had been playing the same game as Kurok.

The only warning he’d gotten was a sharp rush of air before two of the creatures had swept down over the treetops and dove toward him.  Kurok had fired off a pair of _eldritch blasts_ to disrupt their diving attack and then fled back toward the relative safety of the forest.  He hadn’t been surprised when the last of the creatures had suddenly leapt down off a high branch and moved to block him, but it had been caught off-guard by the way he’d veered right into its path.  The peryton had adjusted quickly to meet him with outstretched claws, but at the last instant Kurok had flung a blast of _poison spray_ into its face, causing it to veer sideways.  It reacted quickly, spinning in mid-air and lunging out with a claw as he ran past, but he had protected himself with the _Armor of Agathys_, and the jolt of cold the spell inflicted had given him time to break clear.

He ran at a full sprint, dodging closer to the trees to give him as much cover as possible and minimize the chances of an unexpected attack from above.  His scouts had warned him that the creatures were quite adept at putting their antlers to good use in diving attacks, and he had to resist the urge to glance back over his shoulder as he fled.  At least the rocky ground made the undergrowth thinner than it was along the valley floor, allowing him to maintain a swift pace.  He knew he could not outrun them, but if he could just get a bit of a lead, then he could enter the thicker parts of the forest where the perytons’ wings would be less of an advantage.

As the moments had crept forward without an attack, he began to fear that maybe the creatures had decided he wasn’t worth the bother.  But even as that thought had flashed through his head he’d heard a flapping of wings behind him and knew that at least one of the things was in pursuit.

A huge fallen tree had materialized out of the forest ahead, blocking his path.  As it had fallen it had dislodged a smaller tree, which now formed a ramp of sorts up over the barrier.  Kurok hadn’t hesitated, springing up onto the trunk and running up its length before leaping out over the obstacle.  It wasn’t much of a jump, maybe six feet from the top of the old tree to the spongy forest loam below.

But even as he’d leapt out into the open air a rush of air warned him that his adversaries had anticipated his move.  There was no way to dodge, no way to evade the figure that swept low through the trees before it thrust its antlers directly into Kurok’s path.  The collision had been violent, tearing through the protection of the warlock’s spell even as it unleashed the last of its stored power as an icy discharge into the creature.  Kurok hit the ground hard and rolled.  He drew out his mace as he staggered to his feet, spinning to identify the next attack.

What he had seen hadn’t been promising.  The peryton that had attacked him had recovered and perched atop the fallen log, watching him.  A flutter of wings announced the arrival of the others, dropping from above to land on branches all around him.  For a moment all four of them just watched him, enjoying the savor of the moment before the kill.

Kurok just waited.  He turned slowly, keeping his attention divided between all of them, but his focus was on the one that had stabbed him.  Hoary frost covered its antlers where the warlord’s magic had stung it, but it would clearly take a lot more than that to stop it.  It was obviously the elder of this pack, larger than the others with a hide covered with old scars.  It watched him intently, waiting for him to panic.

When Kurok finally lifted a hand to unleash a few more _eldritch blasts_, it had let out a loud screech that had all four of the creatures diving toward him.

But instead of attacking, Kurok had summoned a globe of _darkness_ that had filled the clearing.  The perytons screeched either in anger or frustration, their wings flapping madly as they sought their prey while trying to avoid colliding with each other.  There was a loud rush as the alpha creature swooped through the space where Kurok had been standing as he’d unleashed his spell, but this time the antlers found only empty air.

As it realized its mistake the peryton leader spread its wings and tried to swoop back up into the air, but before it could escape Kurok slammed his mace into its flank.  The creature let out a violent shriek and turned on him, driving him back.  The _darkness_, bound to his gauntlet, followed him, but the perytons refused to give up their prey.  They swarmed around him, slashing at the darkness in an effort to find him.  But with his invocation of _Devil’s Sight_ he could see where they could not, and he was able to avoid their blind rush.  Dropping low, he rolled to the side and darted toward the cover of the fallen log.

He’d almost made it when he stepped on a twig, the sound of it snapping clearly audible even over the violent flapping of the perytons’ wings.  Clearly they’d heard it too, for they turned as one and rushed at him together.  They spread out, and at first Kurok thought they were just trying to avoid collisions, but after a moment he recognized their tactic for what it was.  And as he backed up against the solidity of the fallen tree he knew it had succeeded.

“Clever,” he said.

The perytons hesitated, perhaps waiting for him to reveal himself again with an attack, but instead of attacking, Kurok raised his hand and dismissed the _darkness_.

The perytons were again caught off guard by the sudden return of light.  They were even more surprised by the worgs with goblin riders that formed a second circle around the clearing.  About half of the goblins had bows with readied arrows, while the others were carrying crude buckets crafted out of woven branches, leaves, and pine needles.

Furious at being tricked, the peryton alpha screeched and dove at Kurok.  But the warlock was ready for it, and greeted its charge with a pair of _eldritch blasts_ that tore into its body.  The peryton, staggered by the impacts, slammed into the rotting tree.  Kurok was already ducking under one of the protruding branches.  He’d done his part, and had no interest in risking further injury in the melee.

The other perytons apparently had the same idea.  Their wings pounded as they sought to escape the trap, but the goblins were already launching their attacks.  Several arrows struck home, and as the fearsome creatures rose into the air the ones with the buckets launched their burdens at them.  The crude containers burst on impact, spreading their cargo of pine tar onto the creatures’ wings and torsos.  The perytons squawked but could not escape, their struggles only causing the sticky mess to spread further.

Kurok cleared the branch and was about to circle around to rejoin Usk when a sudden flutter of wings drew his attention back around.  It was the peryton alpha.  The creature was clearly suffering, its head scorched where the warlock’s blasts had struck, one eye reduced to a bloody mess.  But the other eye burned with a furious hatred as it launched itself at its foe.

A hint of motion ahead drew Kurok back into the present.  The stand of trees where he’d taken cover overlooked a rocky gully where a narrow stream wound back and forth.  The movement resolved into a goblin scout who emerged from the cover of the rocks just long enough to wave an all-clear signal.  Kurok stepped from the cover of the pine tree and started down the slope.

The peryton alpha had been a worthy foe.  Kurok’s side still burned where it final gore attack had punched into him, skewering a lung.  Fortunately, he’d ordered Usk to bring one of his shamans with him.  He still had a healing potion left, but was keeping it in reserve for a time when he didn’t have that outside help to draw upon.

As he made his way down toward the stream other goblins emerged out from the trees around them, most of them accompanied by their worgs.  Kurok made a mental note to work on his stealth skills; the goblins were far more adept at it than he.  The scout had disappeared near a bend in the stream where the water tumbled down over a small cascade of boulders.

When he reached the stream he found Usk and several of his riders waiting.  “How far?” Kurok asked.

“Not far,” the goblin said.  He watched the hobgoblin, waiting for orders.

Kurok hesitated.  He was not the only one to have taken wounds in the brief but bloody fight with the perytons, and his magic was depleted.  But on the other hand, the sense of urgency that he’d shared with Vedaros had not been feigned; time could very well be of the essence here.

“Very well,” he said.  “Lead on.”

They crossed the stream a hundred paces above the waterfall and continued south, entering a shallow defile flanked by weed-encrusted walls.  The cliffs that ringed the valley rose up ahead of them, tantalizingly close, but Kurok already knew that distances were misleading in this place.

But in this case, the goblin chief’s words proved true.  They’d gone less than a thousand paces from the stream when the sides of the defile opened to reveal a broad ravine.  Directly ahead of them rose a massive mound of stone with sheer sides at least twenty paces high.  In the front of that tor there was a breach, a deep cleft flanked by boulders twice the size of a warleader’s tent.  Those boulders rose up like pillars warding the opening, but they looked to be entirely natural.  From their current vantage Kurok thought he could see something inside the cleft, but he could not be certain.  There were a few worg riders scattered around the place, keeping an eye out.

Once the perytons had been defeated, it had not taken Usk’s scouts long to find this place.  In a way Kurok had expected it to be here, despite the vagueness of Zorek’s instructions.  It somehow _felt_ right.  He could finish his quest right now, and be gone from here before the humans of the Silverpeak Valley even knew he was there.

Usk was watching him closely.  The rest of his force was strung out behind them.  They’d left only a small force back at their camp for security, with a few other scouts conducting patrols through the forest to make sure that there weren’t any more surprises for them.  That left eleven goblins and their mounts, including the scouts keeping watch around the perimeter of the ravine.

They made their way forward.  As they drew closer to the huge mound Kurok could see that there was definitely something inside the cleft.  It looked like an entry of some sort, framed by blocks of stone too regular in their lines to be natural.  It had the look of a tomb, or one of the underground dwellings that some giants favored.  The dark opening certainly looked tall enough for a giant, though it was narrow, a tall slit filled with deep shadow.

“Did any of your scouts go inside?” Kurok asked.

“No, Great One,” Usk replied.  “If there are any restless spirits in this place, we knew it would take your powers to deal with them.”

_Lucky me_, the warlock thought, though he did not blame the goblin for his caution.

“Send in a scout,” Kurok said.

There was a slight stir from the goblins, but Usk just nodded and gestured to one of his warriors.  The goblin slid down off his worg, and after a brief hesitation he picked up his bow and walked down into the ravine toward the cleft.

Even with all the rocks and clutter it didn’t take the scout long to reach his destination.  He used the rock pillars for cover, slowly approaching the gap in the solidity of the mound.  He took his time, scanning the crevice for traps or any other dangers.  Kurok couldn’t blame him his caution, but he had to fight off a tingle of impatience.

Finally the goblin moved into the cleft.  The entry was narrow, maybe five paces across, but then it widened somewhat before it ended at the shadowed doorway.  The goblin kept scanning his surroundings as he moved deeper.  In just a few moments he would be out of the line-of-sight of the watchers above, and Usk raised his hand as if to issue an order for his warriors to relocate to deeper in the ravine.

But he never got a chance to give that command.  All Kurok saw was a vague blur; one moment the goblin was there and the next he was not.  There was a heavy sound, a deep thump, then silence returned.  The goblins all shared a look before turning to Kurok, who continued to stare at the cleft.  The scout’s worg let out a plaintive sound, but was silenced by a sharp bark from Usk.

Finally Kurok said, “Let’s go.”  Without checking to see if the goblins would obey he started down the slope into the ravine.  After another moment, Usk and his warriors followed.

Kurok was acutely aware of the absence of his higher-order magic as he drew closer to the cleft.  Unlike the spells cast by a sorcerer like Vedaros, his magic drew from his connection to the Veiled One.  Minor workings like his eldritch blasts he could sustain for lengths of time, but his more potent powers were extremely taxing for the caster and could only be managed a couple of times each day.  There would be no more mystic armor or supernatural darkness until he had a chance to rest.

He didn’t see the goblin scout until he was almost within the shadow of the stone pillars.  The creature’s carcass lay in a smashed heap along one side of the cleft, just a few paces from the dark opening.  A splatter of blood showed on the rocks where he’d obviously impacted at a high velocity.  There was no sign of an attacker or a trap mechanism.

Kurok waited until the goblins caught up to him.  “Be ready,” he said, then he stepped forward into the cleft.

He hadn’t realized how warming the sun’s rays had been until he was in the shade of the narrow opening.  He could see now that the interior of the cleft widened to a rough circle about fifteen paces across.  The dark slot opposite him appeared to lead to a worked passage that penetrated straight into the interior of the mound; even his darkvision could make out no distinguishing features or other significant details.  More of the huge boulders stood against the cliff walls around him, giving the place the air of a great hall, if on a smaller scale.  High above the sky was just a narrow wedge of blue, the late afternoon sunlight penetrating barely a quarter of the way down to where he stood.

He looked around much as the goblin had, though he saw nothing unusual.  But he could feel the presence of _something_, a tension that sent a prickling sensation up the length of his spine.

_Nothing to be done but spring the trap,_ he thought.

He stepped forward boldly into the small canyon.  Hesitation would not be useful here, not with his goblins already hanging on the edge of panic.  He fixed his eyes forward, toward the dark tunnel that was his goal.

A rumble filled the canyon.  A goblin shouted a warning, but Kurok was already darting forward.  Something heavy sliced through the air, coming so close to his head that he felt the wind of its passage on his neck.  There was a deafening slam, then a vibration that shook the ground under his feet.

Kurok spun to see that one of the boulders had come alive.

As it rose up he could see that the stone formation had grown arms and legs, giving it a vaguely humanoid appearance.  But its “face” was just a blank slab of stone, lacking eyes or ears or any other sensory apparatus.

Clearly it didn’t need them, as it turned toward him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 106

Kurok lifted his hands and fired a pair of _eldritch blasts_ into the elemental creature.  Both hit, burrowing into the entity’s form and scattering bits of stone everywhere, but from the size of the thing it might have been able to absorb a dozen such impacts before it began to be seriously discomfited.

Fortunately for the warlock his allies were quick to join the fight.  Goblins and worgs poured into the canyon, the riders launching their weapons while their beasts spread out to flank the entity.  Spears and arrows shattered on its body, doing little or no damage as far as Kurok could see.  As the creature shifted to face them another worg, the one whose rider lay splattered on the stone nearby, leapt up and snapped its jaws on its forearm.  Those jaws had the strength to bend iron plates, but the elemental just swept its arm around and slammed its attacker hard against the canyon wall behind it.  Kurok could hear the sound of bones snapping, but the worg refused to release its grip.

More riders entered the canyon, spreading out to circle those already engaged.  But even as they moved to join the fight a second boulder stirred, rising up out of the ground.  As it surged forward it struck a worg in the side with its knee.  The impact knocked both beast and rider flying, the latter sliding to a stop almost back at the entry.  Several of the goblins turned to face this new threat, including Usk, who jabbed it with his spear before it could get its arms around to attack.  The impact jolted a few bits of stone free, but barely scratched the creature.

The ferocity of his allies’ assault had left Kurok alone for a moment, but the warlock hesitated.  He’d initially assumed that the boulder-creatures were elementals, but he sensed no intelligence in them.  But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else here, something watching.

The goblins continued to harry both of the creatures, firing arrows or thrusting with spears even as their mounts snapped at their legs in an effort to unbalance them.  But the things were as unshakable as the boulders they had replaced, and when they met the worgs’ teeth were as likely to give way as the entities’ substance.  It looked like they _could_ be hurt, but at the rate they were going it might take hours to bring them down.

That was time they clearly didn’t have.  Even as Kurok studied their foes the first one slammed the worg it had hurt to the ground.  Before the injured beast could get away it stomped on it with one huge foot, ending its struggles.  On the opposite side of the canyon the second entity smacked a goblin right off the back of its mount.  The goblin went flying high into the air before colliding against the canyon wall.  The warrior hung there for a moment before falling to the ground in a limp heap.

Kurok turned to the tunnel mouth behind him.  “Go for the shrine!” he shouted.

He started in that direction, but the worgs were faster.  Most of them could not disengage immediately, but two that still had their riders broke from the pack and ran all-out for the apparent safety of the interior passage.  Kurok let them pass him, still watching the canyon walls.

Thus he was not surprised when a third boulder rose up just to the right of the passage mouth and lunged to block them.  This one was different than the others; it had much the same form, but a pair of glowing yellow slits above a dark gap provided the basic outlines of a face.  The controlling intelligence that Kurok hadn’t seen in the animated boulders was present in those alien features, even if it hadn’t been clear in the way it had cleverly set up this ambush.

The first worg and its rider could not react in time to avoid the creature’s attack.  Its arm swept into the beast’s shoulder, knocking it roughly to the side.  It remained upright, its rider clinging desperately to its back.

The other pair veered to the left, slipping past the rock-creature.  It spun around to try and block them, but the worg, its speed bolstered by its panic, shot past before the thing could launch another attack.  The goblin crouched low over its mount’s neck as it shot into the dark opening of the passage.

There was another loud rumble, but the goblin barely had a chance to lift his head before a massive slab of stone dropped down from above, crushing both mount and rider instantly.

Even expecting something like that, Kurok couldn’t help but flinch back at the intensity of the trap.  As the rock-creature turned back to face him, he thought he saw something in its eyes, a silent challenge.

_Your move,_ he imagined it saying.

Kurok had mastered fear, but he was not suicidal.

“Fall back!” he yelled.  The goblins needed little urging; they were already tugging on the leather throngs they used to guide their mounts even before Usk could echo his order.  Even as they fled the animated boulders continued to kill; one injured goblin was crushed as it crawled toward the opening of the cleft.  Kurok narrowly avoided a riderless worg that shot past him, but then he was through the gap and clear.  He didn’t look back until he was a full fifty paces away, and even though there was no pursuit he did not stop running until he was all the way back to the edge of the ravine.

The survivors continued to dribble in, some of the worgs limping, others carrying two riders where one of the goblins was unable to walk or hang on unassisted.  Usk and his impressive mount did not appear to be hurt, but fury burned in both sets of eyes as they regarded the blood-smeared gap in the front of the mound.  That fury was not much abated as the goblin leader shifted his attention to Kurok, but he offered no comment on what had just happened.

Kurok tallied their losses: three worgs were dead, along with four goblins.  Most of the survivors were wounded, some seriously.  Usk’s shamans would be busy when they got back to the camp.

Kurok turned back to the cleft in the mound.  There was no sign of the boulder-creatures.  If the elemental thing that controlled them was clever it would have situated itself in a new hiding place, awaiting their return.  The passage entry was clear again, with only a bloody heap on the ground to indicate that anything had tried to enter.  He had no doubt whatsoever that the trap had reset itself in anticipation of another victim.

Usk was already issuing orders, not waiting for Kurok’s command to organize his troops for the long trek back to their camp.  Kurok let that stand for the moment.  He stared at the deadly entrance to the shrine for a few moments longer, then turned and followed his wounded army back into the valley.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 107

The trek back to Wildrush was easier than the outbound journey, for the companions could take a more direct route and did not have to worry about remaining concealed from aerial observation.  But even so the sun was past its noonday peak when they crested a rise to see thin wisps of smoke rising over the rooftops of the town.  They still had a good hour or more of walking ahead of them, but just the sight of their destination eased the tension that had lingered even after their defeat of the chimera.

Rodan had cleaned the dragon head as best he could, but the thing still stank.  There were times when Bredan felt like the eyes of the dragon were still watching him.  Folly, but perhaps understandable.

“Uh oh, what’s that?” Glori said.

They all turned to the southeast, where a group of figures was just emerging from the woods a few hundred yards away.  One look was enough to tell that these were locals, not goblins or worse, but they were clearly in some distress.  There were at least two dozen in the uneven line that staggered out from the cover of the trees into the afternoon sunlight, and by the way they were moving it looked like some of them were wounded.

“The mines lay in that direction,” Rodan said, already moving toward them.  “Something must have happened.”

The others hurried after him.  The miners saw them coming and changed course to meet them.

As they got closer Bredan could see that whatever the miners had gone through, it had left them in a ragged state.  They were a mixed group of humans and dwarves, though there was one gnome who had the largest nose that Bredan had ever seen.  Their clothes, mostly consisting of durable leather and canvas, were dirty, but not dirty enough to hide the fresh bloodstains that some of them wore.  He couldn’t see any obvious wounds, but several of them were limping heavily, and one of the humans was being all but carried by two of his men.  Quellan quickly hurried off to help the injured.

Rodan approached one of them, a human of middle years who was almost as big as the half-orc cleric.  He was all but bald, though his arms looked thick enough to snap the handle of the battered pick he carried.  “What happened, Darven?” the ranger asked.

The muscled miner wiped a hand over his bare pate.  “Bugs,” he said.

“Bugs?” Glori asked.

“Aye.  Beetles, the size of serving platters they were.  Black as pitch.  Hundreds of them.  Thousands.”

“They got big, nasty pincers,” one of the other miners said.  “One of them snapped the big bone in Caro’s leg like it was a twig.”  He pointed back at the stricken man, who was grimacing as Quellan gently tried to align the broken bone for magical healing.

“This sort of thing common up here?” Bredan asked.

“One occasionally runs into giant beetles in the forest,” Rodan said.  “But not like this.”

“Where did they come from?” Kosk asked.

“They came pouring out of one of the mine shafts,” Darven said.  “It wasn’t even one of the main ones we were working, though I guess that’s lucky for the rest of us.  There were two men in there at the time… Henk and Elver.  They didn’t make it out.”

“Were you doing anything unusual?” Kosk asked.  “Blasting, machine drilling?  Magic?”

Darven blinked.  “Nothing like that.  Just picks and hand-drills.”

“They’re all over the place,” one of the dwarves said.  “Darven wasn’t exaggerating, there are tons of them.”

“That’s going to be difficult to deal with,” Bredan said.

“They’re just vermin,” Kosk said.  “We need lamp oil, we can burn them out.”

“There’s casks of oil back at the works,” Darven said.  “We didn’t get a chance to use it, we barely got out with our lives.”

“No one could expect you to have done more against such odds,” Rodan said.

Quellan rejoined them.  Behind him Caro was testing his healed leg while the other miners watched, impressed by the cleric’s magic.  “We should investigate,” ther half-orc said.  “At the very least, make certain that these creatures are not a threat to the town.”

“If there’s as many as these men said, we could end up in over our heads,” Glori said.

“If this lot were able to outrun them, then we should too,” Kosk said.  He turned to Rodan.  “You take these men back to town, let the Governor know what’s happened, and update them on the success of our mission.”  Even as he spoke some of the miners had noticed the severed head that Rodan was carrying slung across his back, and were commenting on it in excited whispers.

The ranger looked intently at the monk for a long moment before he nodded.  “I will return with aid, and supplies.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

“How far is it to the mine?” Bredan asked.

“It’s about two miles,” Darven said.  “The main road cuts further south through the forest, but you can’t miss the path that we took.”

“I’m guessing that the affected mine was closer to the road,” Glori said.  At the shift leader’s nod she added, “That could bode ill for Wildrush.”

“All the more reason to check it out,” Quellan said.  He clasped Rodan on the shoulder.  “Get them to safety,” he said.  “And warn the town.”

“I will.  Watch yourselves,” the ranger said.

Glori strummed a martial melody on her lyre and grinned.  “It’s what we do best,” she said.

As the two groups parted, the ranger and the miners heading south toward Wildrush, the four adventurers turning east into the forest, none of them spotted the shrouded figure watching them from atop another exposed rise nearby.  The hidden watcher’s cloak blended in with his surroundings, the garment matching the dull colors of the surrounding rocks and dry brush so perfectly that he was almost invisible.  He waited until both groups were out of sight, then he rose and quickly retreated back behind the crest.  By the time he reached the base of the rise he was moving at a sprint, and he continued to accelerate until he was almost a blur, his cloak swirling around him as he vanished under the canopy of the woods.


----------



## carborundum

All caught up! Happy New Year, Lazybones


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks!

* * * 

Chapter 108

The mining complex was expansive, spreading out across a broad area on the edge of the forest.  The active works were situated in a shallow dell surrounded by knobs of exposed granite.  As they emerged from the woods the four adventurers could see at least a dozen man-made gashes in the landscape, ranging from exposed veins that had been hacked open to shafts that burrowed at a steep angle into the substrate.  It was immediately obvious which were still active, as the others were choked with brush and tall weeds that had rushed in to reclaim those areas as soon as the miners had turned their attention elsewhere.  Old, rusted machines and rickety huts stood sentry around those abandoned sites, slowly decaying into nothing.

For a long moment the four of them remained on the lip of the dell, studying the area.

“No bugs,” Glori finally said.

“We’re a good distance off from the active mines,” Quellan said.  “Over there, I think,” he said, pointing to a location near the far end of the dell where several intact huts and a scattering of tents were just visible.

“Should we circle around?” Bredan asked.  “Stay in the cover of the trees?”

“They’re beetles, not an enemy army,” Kosk said.

“It can’t hurt not to go rushing in blindly for once,” Glori said lightly.

“Fine,” Kosk said.  He started forward along the edge of the dell, forcing the others to hurry to keep up.

“Just like old times, eh?” Glori said to Quellan as they followed the dwarf.

It didn’t take long for them to make their way around the rim of the dell, even though they had to detour around crumbling gullies and dense tangles of brush that seemed to spring up everywhere there was even the slightest gap in the forest canopy.  As they got closer to the mines they could see more of the works, including mounds of tailings that had been excavated from the shafts.  It looked like only the bare minimum of refining was done on-site, with several crude smelting ovens situated close to the edge of the dell and the ready source of fuel offered by the forest.  They could see now the rough road that exited the forest and trailed down into the dell before culminating in the current mining operation.  The busy part of the works seemed to be centered around three shafts that all burrowed into the steepest side of the dell, its southern face.  The area was dotted with formations of exposed granite that ranged in size from a wagon to a small inn, with some composed of clumps of boulders and others a single mass of weathered rock that stuck up from the ground like a giant’s fist.

“If they were smart, they would have just climbed up on one of those when the beetles attacked,” Bredan said, pointing to one of the larger formations.

“It’s easy to make plans when you’re not in the middle of an attack,” Glori said.

“In any case, such a course might have offered only temporary shelter,” Quellan said.  “Many species of insect are excellent climbers.”

“Do your books offer any suggestions for wiping them out?” Bredan asked.

“Oil,” Kosk said.  The dwarf had gone about fifteen paces ahead of them but was clearly still listening in on their conversation.  “We find the supplies that Caleron mentioned, then we burn them out.”

“Those mine tunnels could go pretty far in,” Glori pointed out.  “This site has been worked for decades.  From what I heard in town, some of the veins of silver go way, way down.”

“Then we block off the entry, and let the smoke do our work for us,” the dwarf said.

“Dwarves do know more about working underground than just about anybody,” Quellan said.

Bredan frowned—he knew that a fire would go out if it didn’t have air to feed it—but he admitted that what he knew about mines was limited to the metals that came out of them.  He thought about how long it had been since he’d worked a forge, and for a moment found himself actually nostalgic for the blazing heat and the burning in his muscles as he wielded the heavy tools, forcing metal to bend to his will.

He reached back to check the fit of his sword in its scabbard.  He still used a heavy tool, though in a different way.

Kosk led them though the last fringe of trees and scattered brush to the road.  “Road” was actually a fairly generous term; it was little more than a path through the forest that had been expanded by years of carts, pack mules, and miners traveling between the mines to Wildrush.  In its heyday during the silver rush this place must have been intense with activity, but now it was just an echo of its former self.  From their vantage they could see most of the camp, though there were considerable portions hidden behind overgrown mounds of tailings and the ubiquitous heaps of boulders.  The signs of the miners’ hasty retreat were evident, with a number of tents having collapsed and tools left scattered where they’d been dropped.  Faint wisps of smoke rose from a campfire that was still smoldering.

“I admit, from what the miners said, I expected this place to be crawling,” Bredan said.

“Maybe they went back underground,” Glori said.  “There probably isn’t much for them up here.  They can’t eat rocks, after all.”

“We should still be careful,” Quellan said.

They set out down the road, but had only covered maybe twenty paces when Glori let out a hiss that had the three men jumping.  “There!”

They followed her pointed finger and saw a dark form that skittered out from around a rock maybe fifty paces ahead and to their left.  The beetle was about the size of a hunting dog, maybe three feet long from its mandibles to the end of its abdomen.  Its entire body was the dull black of deepest night.  It skittered over the rocks, moving generally in their direction without any apparent urgency.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Bredan said.

“We know those mandibles are strong enough to snap bones,” Quellan reminded him.

Glori lifted her bow, but hesitated.  The beetle was still coming closer, but it wasn’t clear if it had detected their presence.

“Save your arrow,” Kosk said.  He picked up a pebble and slung it at the beetle.  The missile missed, but smacked hard into a large stone a few feet from it.  The beetle immediately shot forward.

Bredan drew his sword, but Kosk didn’t wait for him.  He strode forward into the rocks to meet the charging insect, which immediately changed course to meet him.  The thing went for his legs, but before it could get close enough to strike the dwarf thrust his staff out.  He caught it under the front of its shell and flipped it over.  The beetle landed in the rocks nearby and skittered in a wild effort to right itself.

“Thick shells,” Kosk said, tapping it with his staff as he circled around the thing.  “Softer on the bottom, of course, but it might be thick enough to turn an arrow, barring a direct hit.”

“It looks like a relative to the common fire beetle,” Quellan said.  “Similar bite, body type… without the illuminative glands, of course.  And I’ve never seen such pure coloration before.”

“Well, if it lives underground, there’s no point to colors, right?” Glori asked.

“Yes, but most subterranean species develop an absence of coloration, rather than pure black like this,” the cleric said.

The beetle lurched and almost got itself turned enough to gain purchase on the rocks.  Kosk raised his staff, but before he could strike Bredan thrust down with his sword, stabbing into its head and instantly ending its struggles.

“Another glorious victory for us,” Glori said with a grin.  “Let’s hope his brothers and sisters and cousins don’t come seeking vengeance.”

They resumed their progress into the dell, following the road for the benefit of mobility it gave.  The miners had cleared away most of the brush in the areas where they had been working, but hadn’t bothered with the rest.  In some places there wasn’t enough soil to support a lot of growth, but they passed several dense thickets that could have each hidden a hundred beetles.  They gave those spots as wide a berth as they could.  As they got close to the camp they veered off the road, clambering up onto a small mound of boulders that would give them a better view.

From their perch they could see more signs of the damage wrought in the surprise assault.  One of the huts where the miners slept had completely collapsed, and they could see more tents that lay in tatters in sheltered spaces among the rocks.  They also saw more beetles skittering around the area, looking for something edible.

“Okay, this seems more dangerous,” Glori said.

“There’s a couple dozen at least,” Bredan added.

“From what the mine foreman said, they must have come from that shaft over there,” Quellan said, pointing to the dark opening that stood closest to the road.  Above it the crumbling edge of the steep rise that marked the southern boundary of the dell rose about thirty feet, the summit covered in a dense fringe of tall weeds.

“That must be the miners’ supply hut over there, then,” Glori said, indicating a hut about a hundred and fifty feet from the target mine.  The hut appeared to be mostly intact, though they could see only one side of it from their current position.

“We’ll need to deal with these bugs before we can make a move on the mine,” Bredan said.

“Perhaps we can use your earlier suggestion, and engage them from high ground,” Quellan said.

“I thought you said they could climb,” Glori asked.

“Well, if we can delay them, that may give us enough time to kill them all,” the cleric said.

“Whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it fast!” Kosk said, punctuating the comment as he hopped down from his boulder and drove his staff through the body of a beetle that had crept up on them unobserved.  The staff impaled it, killing it instantly, but a second beetle emerged from the bushes behind it a moment later.  It issued a sound, a sharp whine that was just shy of painful.  The pulse lasted only a second, but every other beetle in sight suddenly turned and charged toward their position.  They were joined by others that had been hiding in the rocks or in the bushes nearby, until there were at least thirty of the creatures converging on them.

“Oh, damn!” Glori said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 109

The beetle facing Kosk lunged forward, its mandibles snapping for an exposed leg.  The dwarf sprang back up onto the rocks but the beetle followed, clambering up after him.

“Guess what, these ones can climb!” he warned his friends.  The monk smacked the creature in the head with his staff before it could reach him, knocking it off the boulder.  It landed on its back and lay there squirming.

“Good to know!” Bredan yelled back.  He lifted his crossbow and fired at the closest beetle, but the bolt stabbed into the ground right in front of it.  The beetle clambered over it without slowing.  Quellan, lacking a missile weapon, hefted his mace and crept forward to the forward edge of their rampart.  The pile of boulders that had seemed impressive when they’d been climbing up onto them now seemed rather close to the ground.  After a moment’s hesitation he tucked his weapon under his arm and extended his hand in a beckoning gesture.  With a soft _whoosh_ his newly-won _sacred flame_ enveloped one of the bugs, drawing a high-pitched shriek from it before it collapsed in a charred heap.

“That’s new,” Bredan said as he reloaded his bow.

“That’s good!” Kosk said in encouragement.  “Do that thirty more times and we’re good!”

Glori started to lift her bow, but hesitated.  There were plenty of targets, but it looked like she’d only get one shot before the nearest beetles reached their refuge.  Instead she jumped down and sprinted into the miners’ camp.

“Glori!” Bredan shouted.

“I’ve got a plan!” she yelled back.

About half of the beetles turned to intercept her, but her intended destination wasn’t far away.  On the edge of the camp there was an old cart that lay at an angle, with one wheel broken.  From the rust on the axle it had been there for a while.  Glori hopped up onto it, waving her arms to keep her balance as the cart swayed unsteadily with her weight.

“That won’t stop them,” Bredan said.

“We have to trust her,” Quellan said.

“There’s a few more coming up from behind,” Kosk reported as he joined the others atop the heap of boulders.  “What’s she doing now?” he asked as he saw Glori.

“Something heroic and stupid, no doubt,” Bredan said.

Glori waved her arms and yelled, drawing even more of the beetles to her.  As the first ones reached the cart they skittered up onto it, snapping at the bard’s feet.  She retreated further, up onto the very edge of the still-intact wheel, balancing precariously on the narrow rim.  More beetles clambered onto the cart, while two others tried to climb the wheel to get to her.  One managed to scrape its mandibles on the upper rim a scant finger’s breadth from Glori’s boots.

Glori waited a heartbeat longer.  Then she flashed her hands over her lyre, and her brow furrowed for a moment as she concentrated on her magic.

Bredan, who knew what was coming, tensed in anticipation, but he still flinched when the blast of Glori’s _thunderwave_ reached him.  The pulse of raw sonic energy couldn’t inflict any real damage from that far away, but it still felt as though someone was trying to loosen his bones from inside his body.

The beetles, on the other hand, absorbed the full force of the spell.  The ones closest to Glori were shattered like eggs, flung backwards from the point of impact to lay broken on the rocks.  Those a bit further back were stunned by the intensity of the pulse, and a few that had been making a beeline for the cart turned and wandered in random directions as if confused by the whole affair.

The spell also vaporized the cart, but Glori seemed ready for that, and as the wheel collapsed from under her she leapt clear and landed in a patch of dirt a few paces away, coming up into an easy roll that barely mussed her cloak.  Unfortunately for her there was a beetle a few feet away that she hadn’t noticed, and as she regained her feet it let out a chirp and lunged for her exposed right ankle.  Too late she turned and saw the threat.

But just before the mandibles would have snapped shut the beetle shook and came to a sudden stop.  Glori could see the crossbow bolt that had impaled it right between the eyes, so deep that only the fletched end was visible.  She turned and flashed a thumbs-up to Bredan, who looked just as surprised that he’d finally managed to hit something with his crossbow.

More of the beetles were recovering and coming toward her again, but Glori quickly spun and sprinted back toward the mound of boulders.  Kosk flicked a beetle off with his staff, while Quellan leapt down to help clear her path, kicking a beetle that threatened to cut her off.  The beetle rolled through the camp like a child’s ball, finally coming to a stop near the supply hut.

“Xeeta would have been really helpful right about now!” Kosk said as Glori sprang up onto the rocks.  Bredan gave the half-orc a hand back up then drew his sword.  Glori spun with her bow in hand and shot a beetle that tried to snap at the cleric’s boot.  “You got another of those spells?” the dwarf asked Glori.

“Yeah, but I can’t set it off without blasting all of you,” she yelled back.

“I think we’ve got this,” Bredan said as he skewered another of the beetles.  The survivors were all gathered around the base of the mound, but the need to clamber up onto the rocks was slowing them just enough to leave them open to the adventurers’ weapons.  For a moment the only sound was the skittering of their feet and the clacking of their mandibles, punctuated by the louder sounds of steel and wood smashing into their bodies.

And then, so suddenly that it almost caught them off guard, it was over.  Insect bodies and pieces of them were scattered all over and around the mounded boulders, but none of them were stirring.

“Is that all of them?” Glori asked.

“Is anyone hurt?” Quellan asked.

“It looks like we won this round,” Kosk said.  He hopped down from the rocks, stepping over a partially-squished beetle.  “Let’s finish this before the rest of them come.  That spell-blast may draw every bug within a mile, or something worse.”

“Always seeing the bright side,” Bredan said, but he followed the dwarf as he started toward the supply hut.  As he walked he took out a rag and cleaned his sword.

Quellan jumped down and then turned to help Glori.  “That was a good plan,” he said.

“I am glad my master had me do balance exercises,” she said.  “Comes in handy during a performance, but it’s a skill with broader application, it seems.”

Kosk kept a close eye on the dark mouth of the mine shaft as he made his way toward the hut where the miners kept their oil.  The initial wave of beetles had been dealt with handily, but there was something here that didn’t sit right, something that just felt _off_.  He doubted that the beetles they’d fought were the full sum of the infestation.  The plan to use the oil to cleanse the mine was sound, and probably their best option since crawling down into the mine to hunt the things would be beyond risky.   But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

As he turned back to the shack he caught a hint of movement from within.  The tiny building was shoddy in its construction, with gaping cracks between the boards that made up its walls and a roof that looked like it would fly off with the first strong breeze, let alone one of the storms that plagued these mountains.  The door was to his left, attached to the wood on crude leather hinges.  The openings in the wall weren’t quite big enough for him to clearly see in the interior, but whatever it had been was too big to have been one of the beetles.  Kosk tensed and lifted his staff, ready for an attack.

There was a small flash, and something shot out from one of the larger gaps in the shack’s wall.  Kosk started to dodge, but realized that the missile wasn’t coming toward him.  Instead it headed for the dark opening of the mineshaft.  He just barely had a chance to see that it was a pale, slightly glowing sphere the size of a fist before it vanished into the narrow tunnel.

“What was that?” Bredan asked.

Kosk didn’t get a chance to answer before a loud sound boomed out from the mine.  It sounded almost as loud as Glori’s spell, the sonic pulse amplified by the tight confines of the shaft.  He imagined what it would do to the beetles, but figured that was probably the point.

“Wizard!” he warned, just in case the others hadn’t made the connection.  Kosk hadn’t forgotten the attack on their caravan on the road through the mountains, or the way that the lead wagon had mysteriously burst into flame in the middle of the ambush.  The dwarf had faced enough spellcasters in his long and unusual career to know that the key to defeating them was not giving them time to unleash their magic.  Without waiting to see what the others would do he charged forward toward the door of the shack.  It had a simple embedded latch that looked like it could be worked from either side, but he didn’t bother with it.  Instead he lifted his foot and delivered a snap-kick that blasted the thing open.  He followed that with a lunge that brought his staff into a ready position.

He noticed two things at once.  The first was that the hut, somehow, was empty.  The interior was just one small room, and while there were plenty of openings in the walls, none of them were big enough for even a goblin to squeeze through.

But that realization was overpowered by the flash to his right, and he turned to see sparks from a series of flints jammed into the door as they caught on a sodden rag set on top of a broached cask.  A strong scent confirmed its contents even if he hadn’t seen the warnings blazoned on the sides of the container.

Kosk opened his mouth to issue a curse, but didn’t get a chance before the shack exploded.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 110

Bredan blinked as bright lights flashed in his vision and a loud ringing filled his ears.  One moment he’d been following Kosk toward the miners’ shack; the next he was lying on the ground, not sure of what had happened.  He could feel grit under his fingers. The ground here was fine gravel, the leftovers of years of work pulling earth and stone out from under the ground.

With an effort he managed to lift his head enough to look around.  He still couldn’t see very clearly, but he was pretty sure that the shack should have been right in front of him.  Now it was gone.  There was no sign of Kosk.  Turning around was even harder, especially as the motion awakened fresh pains that suggested that whatever had happen had affected more than just his senses.  But he had to see what had happened to Glori and Quellan.

They were there, still on their feet about fifteen paces back, but something was wrong.  They were both yelling, though Bredan still couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.  He instinctively realized that whatever had just happened, the danger wasn’t over yet.  With a flurry of effort he managed to get his hands and feet squared away and tried to get up.

The ground lurched and he almost fell.  He thought it was his battered head at first, until he glanced aside and saw that there was a _hole_ in the ground, not two steps from where he stood.  He blinked in surprise; had that been there before?  That thought evaporated, though, as he saw that he hole was _growing_, the gravel and dirt around it pouring in as the earth under it collapsed.  He turned and tried to stagger clear, but before he could manage even one step he felt the ground give way under his feet.

He didn’t even have time to yell before the sinkhole swallowed him up.

* * *

Quellan was stunned when the shack exploded, and he staggered backwards, barely keeping his footing.  Bits of wood and other debris pattered down around him, but he was far enough away that he wasn’t hurt by the blast.  Shaking his head to clear it, he saw Kosk lying in the rocks a good ten paces away, the front of his robe scorched and tattered, fresh blood on his face.  The cleric’s heart froze for a moment before he saw the dwarf stirring, somehow still conscious after being caught by the full force of the explosion.  Bredan had been knocked from his feet, but he too looked to be okay, if dazed.

Quellan was about to go to their aid when he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder.  He reflexively reached up to the wound but felt nothing there.

Realization had him turning around to see Glori coming toward him.  She had been bringing up the rear and was the furthest from the explosion, but her face was twisted with pain.  As she saw him she turned enough for him to see the arrow jutting from her back, exactly where he had felt the stab of pain through the _warding bond_ he’d laid on her as soon as they’d spotted the mass of beetles in the camp.

He felt something hard bounce off his breastplate, and glanced down to see another arrow, this one broken, lying on the ground at his feet.

They were under attack.

Glori pointed, and Quellan looked up to the weed-choked summit above the mine shafts.  There was too much growth there for him to see anything clearly, especially with his senses a bit off from the aftereffects of the explosion, but there was definitely something moving around up there.  As if to remove all doubt another missile flashed from the weeds, a stubby crossbow bolt that narrowly missed Glori as she meandered toward him.

Raising his shield to cover his face, he turned to help her, but a deep rumbling drew his attention back around.  _Now what?_ he thought, but what he saw still managed to catch him off guard as a massive sinkhole erupted in front of him, the ground pouring into an empty space below.  Stumbling back, he watched Bredan slide into the opening from the other side, unable to do anything at all to stop it.  When the ground finally stopped collapsing the hole was a good ten paces across, loose dirt and gravel continuing to pour down its steeply sloped sides.  Quellan couldn’t see anything below, not even a trace of his fallen friend.

“Bredan!” Glori yelled.  She started forward, and for a moment Quellan thought she was going to dive in after him, but after a moment she let him pull her back to relative safety.  Missiles continued to rain down on them from above, and Quellan felt a pain in his right hip as something pierced his armor.  He didn’t even bother looking down, instead covering Glori with his body as he turned them away from the barrage.  For a moment the cleric considered his _sacred flame_, but their hidden adversaries were too far away.

“We have to get to Kosk!” he yelled.  “He’s hurt badly!”

Glori’s response was just a vague sound, but she went with him as they made their way cautiously around the edges of the sinkhole to where the dwarf had fallen.  He was barely on the edge of consciousness, and fortunately their ambushers had focused their fire on the members of the group that were still upright and dangerous.  As Quellan knelt beside him Glori let out a growl and rose up with an arrow fitted to her bow.  Her shot vanished into the weeds.  Their enemies still hadn’t shown themselves, though they continued to unleash fire through their cover.

“If I get close enough, I can use a _sleep_ spell,” she said as Quellan poured healing magic into his injured friend.  Kosk sputtered and grabbed hold of the cleric’s arm, pulling himself up.  “Who?” he sputtered.

“We stay together,” Quellan said to Glori.  Ignoring Kosk, who continued muttering curses, he grabbed hold of both of them and hurried them toward the nearest bit of cover, another low heap of boulders about twenty paces back from the edge of the camp.  Arrows continued to follow them as they rushed behind the protection of the rocks.

“I caught a glimpse of the wizard,” Kosk said.  “He’s around here somewhere.  Wait, where’s the boy?”

“He fell into a sinkhole,” Quellan said.

“We can’t leave him,” Glori said.

“Of course not,” Quellan said.  “But we won’t be much use to him if we get ourselves killed.”

“How many?” Kosk asked, carefully lifting his head up to peer up over the edge of their shelter.  Another arrow bounced off the rocks nearby, but the dwarf did not even flinch.

“From the volume of fire, I’d say four, maybe five,” Glori said.

“You got any magic that can reach that far?” Kosk asked.

Both Glori and Quellan shook their heads, but then the bard said, “I have something new I’ve been working on.  Something I saw my mentor use a few times.  You’re familiar with _invisibility_?”

“I’ve seen it before,” Kosk said.  “Useful magic.  Why didn’t you tell us about this when we fought the chimera?”

“Well, to be honest… I’ve never actually used the spell before,” Glori sad.  “But I think I can make it work.”

“How long will it last?” Quellan asked.

“I’m not exactly certain,” Glori said.

The half-orc and dwarf shared a look.  “Cast it on me,” Kosk said.  “I’ve got the best chance of getting up there anyway.”

“If there are five of them…” Quellan said.

“Better to fight them up there than down here,” Kosk said.

Quellan nodded, and Glori sidled over to the dwarf, careful to keep her head down.  But before she could reach for her lyre there was another loud sound, a low-pitched roar that seemed to issue from the ground beneath their feet.

“That can’t be good,” Glori said.


----------



## carborundum

GM rule number 3: If in doubt, escalate!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 111

Bredan returned to awareness with a rush of pain and the taste of blood in his mouth.  He was lying on a hard, flat surface, though he could feel jagged bits of stone pressing into his skin.  Loose rocks skittered away as he got his hands under him and pushed his head up slowly she he could look around.

He was lying on a ledge that overlooked a huge cavern.  A thin sliver of light drifted down from above and behind him.  Seeing it brought back memory of what had happened.  They’d been fighting beetles in the mines, then the supply hut had exploded, and then the sinkhole had opened under him.  He must have hit his head and blacked out.

He had no idea how long he’d been here.  There was a persistent buzzing in his head, which he’d assumed was a byproduct of the fall, but as his thoughts grew clearer he felt a dawning suspicion that had him creeping forward slowly to the edge of the ledge.

What he saw sent a thrill of icy cold feeling through his gut.

The floor of the cavern was _alive_ with movement, hundreds of the black beetles crawling on and around and over each other.  But that wasn’t what froze him, what pushed him to the edge of irrational terror.

The beetle was _huge_, easily big enough to trample a house, its mandibles large enough to seize a whole team of horses in their grasp.  It looked big enough to reach up and pluck him off his ledge without straining, though at the moment it was closer to the far end of the cavern and turned slightly away.  As it shifted he could see something imprinted upon the broad dome of its carapace.  Like its comparatively tiny brethren its shell was completely black, but the giant one had a pale marking on its back, a vague design that had the look of a rune or sigil.

Bredan found himself staring intently at that marking.  It absorbed him despite the gibbering terror that threatened to seize control of his mind, distracting him from the danger he was in.  He stared at it until he began to feel dizzy.

Finally, a scraping noise that sounded much too close shook him from his reverie.  He tore his attention from the horror of the giant beetle and the more prosaic threat of the army of “regular” beetles to study his more immediate surroundings.

The ledge was about fifteen feet above the floor of the cavern, but the collapse of the sinkhole had left it surrounded by steep ramps of debris on each side.  Beetles were already clambering up those awkward mounds, and while some lost purchase on the loose rocks and dirt, others were managing a slow but constant ascent.  Even as he looked around him one crested the ledge, snapping its mandibles until Bredan lashed out blindly and kicked it free.  The bug tumbled away and rejoined the mass below, but he could hear several others nearing the ledge.

Bredan scrambled to his feet.  He started to reach for his dagger, but hesitated.  A few feet away a beetle appeared, stumbling over the loose rocks that covered the rim of the ledge.  Another one popped up on the opposite side a moment later, probing with its mandibles.

Bredan reached out his hand and closed his eyes.

The beetles rushed forward to snap at his legs.  The first almost had his left boot in its grasp when a shaft of steel drove down, impaling it.  As the second insect lunged Bredan pivoted back and slashed his sword across its body, separating its head from its abdomen.  He kicked the pieces off the ledge, unbalancing a beetle that had almost gained the summit.

More beetles were already approaching the ledge, but before Bredan could do anything further the cavern shook with a loud noise.  At first he thought that the deep, sonorous pulse presaged another collapse, but then he realized it was coming from the giant beetle.  As he watched the massive creature turned ponderously toward his redoubt.  Then it started toward him, slicing through the mass of beetles like a ship cresting waves on the sea.  It was probably killing a bunch of them with each step, but it hardly seemed to care about their fate.

Bredan couldn’t wait for it to get to him.  The moment of distraction had allowed half a dozen more beetles to gain the ledge.  He slashed out with his sword, darting to avoid the snapping mandibles, but there were too many of them.  He felt a stabbing pain as one locked around his ankle, then another as a beetle lunged up and pierced his leg just below the skirt of his hauberk.  Roaring in both pain and defiance, he stabbed that one in the head and then spun to try and shake clear the one hanging onto his boot.  The beetle managed to hang on, but his wild movements knocked several others clear.  But the ledge was only so big, and more of the things kept coming.

“Come on then, you bastards!” he yelled at them.

For the next few moments he focused on swinging his sword while not getting pulled down by the attacking swarm.  He was aware that the giant beetle was getting slowly closer, could hear a heavy thud with each step it took, but he couldn’t spare it even a glance.  He would have to deal with it when it got to him.  For now it was all he could do to stay alive.  He darted along the very rim of the ledge, nearly sliding off when the loose rocks gave way, then retreated back against the wall of the cavern, kicking another beetle off as he went.  He finally managed to get solid rock at his back, but when he turned around he saw at least a dozen beetles pushing at him, too many to stop.

Suddenly the light from above shifted and faded, deepening the shadows that filled the cavern.  Bredan looked up to see someone sliding through the breach before dropping through open air toward him.  It was Quellan, the half-orc clinging to a length of rope that rose up through the sinkhole to the surface above.  The cleric was unleashing a fresh rockslide as he came, and Bredan quickly shrank back and covered his head as a patter of debris began hitting around him.  The beetles were caught by the full force of that deluge, and some collapsed as solid pieces of stone cracked their armored shells.  Others were dislodged as they tried to get to Bredan, and tumbled back down off the ledge to the cavern floor below.

The respite was only momentary, but as the surviving beetles thrust forward again the half-orc came to the end of the rope and dropped onto the ledge.  He landed awkwardly, but killed another beetle just by landing on it, and snapped a mandible off another as his armored body splayed out.  A beetle tried to take advantage by seizing hold of his neck, but before it could strike Bredan stabbed it with his sword.  He reached in and helped the half-orc to his feet.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Bredan said as he kicked another beetle clear.

“It sounded like you needed help,” Quellan replied.

Another shadow announced Glori’s arrival.  She came down the rope with a bit more deliberation than Quellan, sending down a smaller spray of stone and dirt that hampered the beetles more than the two adventurers below.  Within moments she was dropping onto the ledge behind them, drawing her sword as she landed on her feet.

“Hey guys, hope you saved some for me,” she said.

“That won’t be a problem,” Bredan said as he sliced another beetle in two.

“I think… what is THAT?” Quellan said.

Bredan didn’t get a chance to respond before the giant beetle lunged forward, striking the front of the ledge with enough force to shake the stone.  For a moment he thought that the impact would tear the entire platform free, but other than shaking loose a fresh cascade of loose rocks it held.  The giant beetle thrust forward again, looming over them for a moment like some massive slab before descending to crush them all.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 112

Bredan didn’t think, he just acted.

As his hand came up he drew from somewhere deep inside himself and _pushed_.  The magical _shield_ that appeared was smaller than the wooden ones that his uncle had forced him to train on, even after he’d decided to focus on two-handed weapons.  Against the bulk and mass of the creature it was nothing, certainly not enough to stop it.

But as the giant beetle’s head slammed down, the shield stopped it… and held it.

Bredan didn’t hesitate.  He shifted his stance the way he’d trained, using all of the muscles of his body to drive his sword into the creature’s body.  He’d expected resistance, expected to be rebuffed by its armored shell, but the blade slid into the gap between its head and abdomen as though it was meant to be there.  He buried the sword to the crossguard, and as the beetle reared back the entire weapon vanished into the interior of its body.

Bredan staggered back as the _shield_ dissipated, but the giant beetle was no longer interested in attack.  As the head jerked to the side Quellan caught it a glancing blow that cracked one of the huge mandibles, but before any of them could follow up the creature flung itself wildly back across the cavern, crushing another score of its tiny fellows in the process.

For a moment Bredan could only stare after it, but then renewed skittering noises warned that the smaller beetles had not fully given up their push.  Glori noted the same thing, shouting, “We’d better get out of here!”  She still had a grip on the end of the rope, and gave it a solid tug to verify that it was still attached to whatever anchor held it above.

“Go!” Quellan said, taking up a position to cover her retreat.  The cavern shook with the angry gyrations of the injured colossus, and Bredan looked at the uncertain ceiling with worry.  Quellan smashed another small beetle as it approached the top of the ledge, but the giant beetle’s aborted attack had knocked most of them back to the bottom of the rock ramp, forcing them to repeat the difficult climb.  But most of them were rushing about in random directions, either confused by the chaos created by the larger monster or simply looking for someplace quiet to hide.

“Kosk?” Bredan asked as he moved back next to Quellan to guard the rope.  He’d drawn his dagger, but did not look too concerned about the loss of his sword.

“He’s okay,” Quellan said.  “There was an ambush, we came under attack from hidden archers right after the supply hut exploded.”

“Then this whole thing was a trap,” Bredan said.  He skewered a beetle with his dagger and kicked it off the edge.

“It would appear so,” Quellan said.

Both men glanced up as Glori shimmied through the opening above, dislodging a fresh shower of small rocks.  “You’re next,” Quellan said.

“I should—” Bredan began, but Quellan grabbed him and pushed him toward the rope, infusing him with the healing power of a _cure wounds_ spell as he did so.  “You know me better than that,” the cleric said.  “Besides, I’ll need you to help pull me up.”

“Hold on then,” Bredan said, clapping him on the shoulder before he tucked his dagger away and started up.  With his upper-body strength the climb was easy at first especially when he had the wall of the cavern to brace against.  Getting up to the hole in the cavern ceiling was a bit more difficult, especially as he began to feel the effects of the battering his body had taken, but with a few fierce grunts of effort he reached the top and pulled himself over the lip of the sinkhole.  The ground remained uncertain, forcing him to keep hold of the rope as he pulled himself up the last bit to solid ground, but he quickly reached safety and then turned back to help Quellan.  He looked around to see if the archers the cleric had mentioned were still a threat, but no arrows came his way.  Glori had taken cover behind the same pile of boulders where they’d anchored the rope, but she came out to help Bredan pull the half-orc up.

Even with that help, lifting Quellan’s weight was harder than pulling himself up, and Bredan’s arms were burning by the time that the priest’s arms appeared in the hole.  Careful of the uncertain edges of the sinkhole, Glori leaned in to give him a hand up the least few steps, as Bredan slumped over, propping his hands on his knees to keep himself upright.

“We have to help Kosk,” Quellan said immediately.

“I think… he’s okay,” Bredan said, pointing.

Quellan and Glori turned to see the dwarf approaching through the heap of tailings on the edge of the camp.  It didn’t look like he’d picked up any fresh wounds, but he looked no less furious for that.

“Everything okay?” Quellan asked as he approached.

“The bastards fled,” Kosk reported.  “That probably had something to do with it.”  He pointed toward where the road emerged from the forest, and they could see a large party approaching through the trees.  There looked to be at least a dozen men accompanying a large cart pulled by a draft horse and laden with barrels.

“Looks like Rodan found help,” Glori said, recognizing the ranger among the new arrivals.

“Fortuitous timing,” Quellan said.

“Yeah,” Kosk said.  He was holding something that he turned over in his hands.  It was a crossbow bolt, likely one of the ones that had been shot at them during the ambush.  The ground around the camp was peppered with them, along with at least a dozen arrows.

Glori turned to Bredan.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “Quellan healed me.”

“What about your sword?”

Bredan forced himself upright.  He held out his hand and closed his eyes.  This time he was not surprised when he felt the familiar weight of his father’s weapon in his hand.  It felt clean, with none of the slickness of the beetle’s blood marring the grip.  It felt… _right_.

He opened his eyes to find all of the others looking at him.  “Looks like we’ll have something to talk about on the way back to town,” Quellan said.

“First we need to burn those bastards out,” Kosk said.  He tucked the bolt into his belt and then started toward the road to greet the company from Wildrush.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 113

Kurok had the talent of transitioning instantly from sleep to full alertness—it was a skill that came in quite handy growing up in a goblinoid tribe—but when he woke he felt groggy and slow.  But he quickly drew himself up out of his bedroll and looked around.

The sun had set, but it was not yet full night.  He did not feel rested, but he could feel the power of the Veiled One as it burned once more in his blood.  That was all that mattered; physical discomfort could be tolerated.

The camp was fairly quiet.  Some of the more seriously wounded of the Bloodriders were still asleep, their mounts—if they had survived—curled up next to them.  Usk was not immediately visible but that was not unusual; the goblin leader often went out with his scouts.

Kurok drank from his waterskin and went over to one of the scouts on duty.  “What is the situation?”

“No enemies have shown themselves, Great One,” the goblin said.  “The black elf has passed the outer sentries and approaches the camp.”

Kurok shot the creature a hard look—they should have woken him immediately as soon as Vederos was detected—but he didn’t make an issue of it.  He had known that the incident at the shrine would have weakened his hold over the Bloodriders; lashing out now would only further complicate the situation.  It was likely he would have to reassert himself, but it would be in a manner that was calculated, not born of blind rage.  That was what set his kind apart from the lesser examples of his race.

He walked along the rocky shelf that formed the perimeter of their camp, using the move as an excuse to stretch his tired muscles.  He had recovered from most of the ill effects of his clash with the perytons that morning, and Vedaros was nominally an ally, but he had long since learned the lesson of being prepared.

When he had circled back around to the slope that led down to the forest he could see the dark elf approaching.  This time Vederos had left his cloak open, though the shifting colors as the magical garment tried to blend in with his changing surroundings was disorienting to look at for any length of time.

The warlock waited as the drow sorcerer slowly approached.  The dark elf also looked tired; appropriate given that he would have had to have traveled almost constantly to have made it to the north valley and back since their last encounter.  His boots were muddy, a detail that stuck out for some reason in Kurok’s tired mind.  The hobgoblin quickly ordered his thoughts; he could not afford to be off his best for the coming confrontation.

Vederos nodded to Kurok but took a long look around the camp before he turned to face his superior.  “You have had some trouble?”

“What do you have to report?” Kurok asked.

“I made contact with our resource in the town.  Quietly, as directed; none other than he noted my visit.”  _That you know of,_ Kurok added mentally, but he did not comment.  “The company of adventurers from Adelar has slain the chimera,” the sorcerer continued.  “Their numbers include both an arcanist bard and a cleric of Hosrenu, in addition to several apparently talented warriors.”

“We already knew they were skilled from the way they drubbed your giants,” Kurok said.  “What else?”

Vederos’s lips tightened at being interrupted, but he inclined his head and went on,” “They were on their way back from dealing with the creature when they were diverted by a group of miners.  Apparently the last working mine had become infested with giant beetles.  After burning out the beetles they returned to Wildrush.  There have been no indications that anyone in the valley knows of your presence here, or anything of our objective.  My own careful queries of our resource indicated no knowledge of anything in this part of the valley.  Even during the last silver rush hardly anyone bothered to come this far, as there have never been any metal discoveries of any note beyond the northern half.”

Kurok continued staring at Vederos as the dark elf finished his report.  “There is something else that you are not telling me.”

For a moment the drow met that stare calmly, then he finally glanced away.  “I took action to hinder the enemy, as you directed.  I drew upon some local recruits provided by our contact in the town.  I had planned to ambush our adversaries on their return from their clash with the chimera, expecting that they would be weakened, but when they turned aside to clear the mine I took advantage of that distraction.”

“From your hesitation to share this information, I take it the encounter did not go as planned.”

“As I said, it was an attack of opportunity.  Quite creative, actually, I was able to…”

“How many of the adventurers were killed in the ambush?” Kurok interrupted.

“Ah… none,” Vederos said.  “Unexpected reinforcements forced me to withdraw before the adventurers were dealt with.  But several of them were seriously injured.”

Kurok didn’t even bother to acknowledge that; he already knew that the new arrivals had a priest within their ranks.  “And your ‘local recruits’?” he asked.

“They proved less effective than expected, though I do not believe any of them were captured.”

“You ‘do not believe.’”

“None of them saw my face, or know who I am,” Vederos said.

“But they know who our contact in the town is,” Kurok said.

“I was only implementing your commands,” Vederos said.  “It seems I was not the only one to have had difficulty recently.”

“What happened here is not your concern.”

“Is it not?  Am I to be criticized for my failure, when you have suffered a significant defeat, even with the strong force you command, and the supposedly great powers of the Veiled One at your beck and call?  Perhaps you should have gone north to deal with the outsiders, and left me to seek out the prize.”  The drow worked himself into a righteous anger as he spoke, but as he finished the last words he seemed to sense that he might have gone too far.  “It seems to me we should focus on our mission, instead of squabbling amongst ourselves.  I have some ideas…”

He cut off as Kurok raised a hand.  The warlock allowed the silence to stretch out for a long moment before he said, “Do you challenge my leadership?”

His words carried, and while there was no obvious motion amongst the goblins, it was clear that they were following the exchange closely.  Even the ones that had been asleep moments earlier were awake now, watching the meeting along with their worgs, the eyes of the latter seeming to glow in the deepening twilight.

“I am not so much of a fool to be torn apart by your minions,” Vederos said softly.

Kurok raised his other hand, pointing at his surviving troops.  “I invoke Bok’tarok!” he said.  “None shall interfere!”

He doubted any of the goblins would lift a finger to support him right then in any case, but he saw that the dramatic gesture had an effect on Vederos.  For a moment the drow let his feelings flash in his eyes, but then he quickly lowered them.  “I defer to your leadership, Blooded,” he said.  “I await your commands.”

A soft rumble from one of the worgs drew Kurok’s attention toward the forest, where a pair of worg riders was just coming into view.  It was too far to see clearly, but it looked like one of them was Usk.

“We have an obstacle that must be overcome,” Kurok said, turning toward the approaching riders.

As soon as his back was turned, Vederos summoned a small ball of shimmering energy in his right hand and hurled it at the warlock.


----------



## carborundum

No way!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> No way!




Way! 

* * * 

Chapter 114

As Kurok turned away from Vederos he drank the contents of the vial he had palmed earlier, using his body to conceal the motion.

The sorcerer’s _chromatic orb_ slammed into him from behind an instant later.  An electrical pulse shot through his body, causing him to drop the empty vial as his muscles spasmed.  Kurok staggered forward a step, but he kept himself from tumbling down the rocky slope that descended to the edge of the woods.

Recovering quickly, he turned his head and fixed his attacker with eyes that glowed with power.

Flames erupted around the drow, who quickly evoked a _misty step_ and transported himself away.

Kurok spun around and quickly located his foe, who’d materialized about twenty feet further up the slope.  Vederos looked only a bit singed from his _hellish rebuke_, but it was clear that he’d been taken a bit aback by the fury of Kurok’s response to his ambush.  For a moment doubt flashed in his mind; he’d poured all of the arcane power he could muster into that _orb_.  But the dark elf recovered some of his confidence as the warlock hurled a pair of _eldritch blasts_ at him, both of which he was able to dodge.

“Too slow, old man!” the dark elf hissed, before countering with another powerful spell.  This one he formed from raw sonic energy, focusing it into a blast that struck Kurok with an explosion of thunderous sound.  The goblins and their beasts flinched back, the former reaching up to cover their ears.  All of them were standing now, intent upon the duel taking place in front of them.

For a moment dust and bits of debris, stirred up by the concussive impact of the _shatter_ spell, swirled around Kurok.  But when they dissipated the warlock remained standing.  Blood trickled from his nostrils, but bright flames blazing in his eyes.

Vederos, seeing what was coming, tried to evade, but this time was nowhere he could go to escape the warlock’s _hellish rebuke_.  The drow staggered back as the unholy flames enveloped him, searing his flesh and pulling a scream from his throat.  For a moment all he could see was that fire, but when it finally faded he turned and drew once more upon his magic.  Thus far Kurok had absorbed everything he’d thrown at him, but the hobgoblin was only mortal; there was only so much damage even he could take.  He ignored a voice that whispered, _He is Blooded_ in the back of his mind as he began conjuring another _chromatic orb_.

But when he turned around he was surprised to see Kurok standing only a few paces in front of him.  The warlock’s hand was already stretched out toward him, and Vederos’s eyes widened in horror as he saw wisps of _something_ floating in the air between them.

The drow tried to finish his spell, to unleash his _orb_ before the hobgoblin’s spell could reach him.  But even he felt the magic coalesce between his fingertips a fresh searing erupted, this time in his throat.  He gasped as he felt tongues of fire plunge into his lungs.  His spell evaporated as pain overwhelmed all other sensations.  He thought that maybe he was falling, but he could not be sure; all he could feel was the pain.

But then something pierced that agony and drew him back to reality for a moment.  It was Kurok, his face right in front of his.  The hobgoblin’s hands were locked around his throat, keeping him upright.  Vederos tried to speak, but his abused lungs could not produce any air.  All he could do was stare into his adversary’s dark eyes, which seemed to swell until they eclipsed even the pain, until there was nothing else… nothing…

* * *

Kurok tried not to stumble as he released Vederos.  The dead husk of the sorcerer fell in a limp heap on the ground.

Usk and his other Bloodrider slowed as they trotted up the last bit of the rise and stopped on the edge of the stone shelf.  The goblin leader did not seem that surprised to see the drow lying dead on the ground, but his eyes did widen when they traveled to the rear of the camp, to the niche that led to their sheltered sleeping quarters.  For the veteran goblin, betraying even that much reaction was equal to startled amazement from anyone else, so when Kurok turned around he was ready for anything from another flock of perytons to a sudden avalanche.

What he saw took him by surprise as well.

A man stepped forward.  He was an elf, one of the surface kind from the look of him, his features thin and angular.  Somehow he’d managed to get into the rear of their camp without detection; the only way in through there was by descending a hundred feet of sheer cliffs.  He carried no weapons, and wore only a light silk tunic over tight trousers tucked into calf-high boots of soft leather.

The goblins and their worgs in the camp were the last to notice the intruder.  The goblins jumped in surprise as the elf strode through their midst, apparently unconcerned, but more disconcerting was the reaction from the worgs.  The ferocious beasts all drew back, whimpering, lowering their heads to the stone in a gesture of submission.

It was that reaction that finally told Kurok what was happening here.

“Stand down,” he ordered the goblins, just in case one of them was going to do something stupid.  Then he went over to where the elf was waiting for him, a slight smirk on his face.  The warlock kept going a few paces more to put some distance between them and the goblins.  After leaving him waiting a moment, the elf finally moved to join him.

“That form is…inappropriate,” the warlock said.

The elf laughed, a deep, musical sound that made Kurok want to smile despite himself.  But he said, “As you wish.”  His features blurred and shifted, swelling until a tall and powerful hobgoblin warrior faced him.  “Better?”

“A pity you did not choose to arrive a few minutes earlier,” Kurok said.

The other laughed again.  “But then, how would I have known who was the stronger?”

“That is all you care about?  What about the mission?”

“You, more than anyone, perhaps, should know that the two cannot always be separated.  That,” he said, gesturing desultorily toward the remains of the drow, “is not the greatest threat you will face before this is done.”

“I agree that Vederos would have likely have had to be dealt with at some point, but his help would have been useful against the guardian of the shrine.  Unless you have come to offer your aid in that endeavor?”

The warrior held up a finger and shook it at him, an incongruous gesture given his current appearance.  “You know that is not how this works,” he said.

“Naturally,” Kurok growled.

“The master that we both serve has full faith in your ingenuity, Blooded Kurok.  Assuming that you are able to continue?  This… encounter… has not taken too much from you?”

“I am fine,” Kurok said.

“Yes.  I did notice that you used the gift of the Veiled One to draw the life from your adversary.  And you have these… _fine warriors_ to assist you in your quest.”

“Was there any other purpose to your visit, emissary?” Kurok asked.

“Just to provide a warning.  There are others in the Silverpeak Valley who may be a threat to your recovery of what waits in the shrine.  And a power is working against us to guide them to it.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Not at this time.”

“Then you have told me nothing that I do not already know.  What good are you to me, then?”

“Careful, my friend.  I do find you amusing, quite amusing, but do not presume to think that you and I are equals.”

Kurok leaned in and lowered his voice even further.  “I am only trying to complete the mandate that was given to me.  I do not question those orders, but it will do our master no good if I fail.  And at the moment, that seems to be a quite likely possibility, even apart from these other agents you referenced.”

The warrior smiled again.  “You must have faith, Kurok.  There are few things in life that cannot be resolved with the proper application of force.”

Without warning he reached out and placed his fingertips on Kurok’s chest.  The warlock sucked in a startled breath as a jolt of icy chill penetrated him down to his bones.  His knees nearly buckled as bright flashes of expanding awareness exploded in his mind, and for a moment he lost track of where he was, even _who_ he was.

After what felt like hours but could only have been a moment or two, his senses rushed back to normal.  He let out a breath and was surprised to see it fog in the air.

“What…” he said.

“The _Hunger of Hadar_ is a rare gift, granted only to the strongest of those who follow the Veiled One,” the warrior said.  “I suggest that you put it to wise use.”

With a final chuckle he turned and walked away, back toward the sheltered niche that held their camp.  Still recovering from what had been done to him, Kurok could only stand there and watch him go.  He waited until the warrior was out of sight, vanishing into the dark cleft in the rock face.  Somehow he knew that if he followed him in there, he would find the interior deserted.

He reached up and rubbed at the spots where those fingers had rested; he could still feel the chill in his skin.  Then he turned and walked over to where Usk was waiting.  From the looks on the faces of the goblins, at least this visit would help to solve his morale problem.

“Send your scouting parties north,” Kurok commanded.  “Stay away from any of the human settlements, but I want to know if any of them head into this part of the valley.  Tell your other warriors and their worgs to get what rest they can.  We will remain here for one more day, and then pay another visit to the shrine.”

“It shall be as you command, Blooded,” the goblin leader said.


----------



## LapBandit

Great stuff, I look forward to the meeting of Kurok and the party!


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks for the kudos, LapBandit!

* * * 

Chapter 115

Drozan Kiefer sat on a rock, warming his hands on the fire, and thought about where his life had started to go wrong.

He glanced over at his companion, who appeared to have no such thoughts.  Ludo was scraping at a pan of roasted beans as if it was a vein with a rich lode of ore.  After he licked his spoon he peered around the rim to confirm he hadn’t missed anything.  Satisfied, he tossed the empty pan aside and belched.

Kiefer had no idea where their other two companions had gone to ground and he didn’t much care.  He hadn’t trusted the two human brothers, and hadn’t turned his back on them during their brief but eventful association.  He didn’t trust Ludo all that much more when it came down to it, but at least there was a racial affiliation there.  He glanced at the other dwarf again to see him picking his nose with almost as much enthusiasm as he’d shown with the pan earlier.

Kiefer bent and grabbed another few branches to throw onto the fire.

Their hideout was an old mine called Winter’s Hold.  The name seemed appropriate, with a bone-chilling cold in the air.  There wasn’t much left, just the stone foundations of some huts that had long since been cannibalized and a vertical shaft about fifty paces behind them in the rocks.  The place had been abandoned twenty years ago and now the only people who used it were men like Kiefer and Ludo, men who had reason to avoid attention.

Kiefer grimaced as he snapped the branches and tossed them into the flames.  He should have left the Silverpeak already.  He should have just kept on walking after the fiasco at the Crossed Picks Mine, and not stopped until he was in the plains to the south.  With the war going on nobody would have paid any heed to another penniless vagabond on the roads.

But no, that would have been foolish.  Without proper gear, supplies, and a caravan with men to keep watch, crossing the mountains alone would have been suicide.  At least here he knew the game, knew what was what.  He knew the right people, although most were like Ludo, men who would help you as long as it served their self-interest, but who only a fool would turn their back on.

Kiefer got up, trying to ignore the protests in his legs.  He was getting too old for this.

“Where you goin’?” Ludo asked.

“Going to take a leak.  You want to come and hold it for me?”

Ignoring the other’s guffaws, Kiefer made his way back toward the mine shaft.  Within five steps the dense tangles of brush that surrounded the abandoned site had swallowed him up.  He paused and almost went back for his crossbow, but he had both of his knives and his throwing axe.  He kept his hand on the reassuring heft of the latter as he pressed on.

In the quiet and the dark the short trek to the shaft seemed longer than it would have in the light of day.  His dwarven eyes had no difficulty in the night, of course, but there was something in the nature of the place that gave him the willies.

The shaft was just an open hole in the ground, a little more than five feet across.  When the mine had been closed a wooden plug had been installed, but that had long since been scavenged.  Now it was just a gaping opening, surrounded by bushes and tufts of weeds that approached almost to the edge.

He was just reaching for his belt when he felt something cold pressed to his neck.

“Oh, crap.”

“Hello again, old friend.”

Careful not to make any sudden moves, Kiefer lifted his hands so the other could see them, then turned slowly around.  “Hey, Kosk.  Ah… this is all just a misunderstanding.”

“So, this isn’t yours, then?” the other dwarf asked.  He was still dressed in that odd robe, with sandals instead of boots or proper shoes.  The robe looked rather the worse for wear, with several folds hanging loose where the fabric had been torn.  He held up what he’d pressed against Kiefer’s neck.  It was a crossbow bolt, the stubby shaft tipped with a thick steel point.

“Look, I can explain,” Kiefer said.  Now that steel wasn’t at his throat he gauged his chances, but something in the other dwarf’s look gave him pause.  He resisted the urge to glance back in the direction of the camp.

“Explain why you and your friends took some potshots at me and mine?”

“It wasn’t like that.  Okay, I get it, it looks bad, sure.  But you don’t know what I was up against!  There’s folks here… I owe some money, you see…”

“Some things never change,” Kosk said.  “And some people, apparently.  You’re still the same old bastard who would sell his own mother for a clipped copper that I remember.”

“Look, there’s some situations where you just can’t say no, okay?  But when I saw it was you… I didn’t hit nobody, okay?  You know me well enough to know that I can hit what I’m shooting at, most times.  But I didn’t hit nobody.”

“You didn’t hit nobody,” Kosk said.  He might have changed over the decades since they’d last ran together, but the danger in his voice, that was the same that Kiefer remembered.

“This kind of thing happens all the time up here,” Kiefer said.  Something shifted in the shadows behind them, from the bushes in the direction of the campfire.  Kiefer’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker in that direction.  “There’s no law in places like this… you know what that’s like!  Or at least you did.”

“I remember,” Kosk said.  “Of course, by that logic, there’s nothing to stop me from snapping your lying neck, is there?”

Kiefer felt an icy trickle of sweat down his neck, but he made no move for his weapons.  The shadow continued to approach.  “Look, Kosk…”

The shadow lunged at Kosk’s back, but the dwarf pivoted, moving faster than Kiefer had ever seen anyone move.  He stumbled back as he caught a flash of steel, then Ludo was flying into the open shaft.  The dwarf mercenary bounced off the rim and them plummeted into the darkness below.  There was the start of a surprised shout but it was cut off by a decisive thud of impact.

Kiefer was already running, but he barely managed to steps before a firm grip seized hold of him and spun him around.  He felt the ground disappear under his feet, and started to cry out before hands clasped around his neck and held him balanced on the very edge of the shaft.

“Don’t… don’t let go,” he hissed.

Kosk leaned in close, until Kiefer feared that they would both slide into the shaft.  “We’re going to have a little chat,” he said.  “You’re going to tell me everything you know about what happened today.”

Kiefer shuddered and let out a whimper as his bladder gave way.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 116

Dust flew everywhere as Quellan went at the shelves in the temple hall with ferocity, his rag already black with the dirt that covered every flat surface in the place.  A clank from one of the back rooms suggested that Shenan was awake and aware of the half-orc’s intrusion, but he had yet to make an appearance.

Quellan didn’t even bother looking that way, and redoubled his efforts at cleaning.  He’d found a small broom just inside the chapel of Sarevas, but he was going to need a bucket and a scrub brush before too long.  But for now he just focused on clearing the shelves.

He wasn’t quite sure why he’d come here.  It was late enough in the day that he could have easily stayed in the inn and passed the time before dinner with a mug of ale by the fireplace.  But he’d been restless ever since the clash with the chimera, a feeling that had only grown more intense with the events at the mine.  In most circumstances he would have spent some time talking it over with Kosk, but the dwarf had separated from their group within minutes of their return to Wildrush, claiming he had an urgent errand whose nature he refused to divulge.  Glori and Bredan had barely blinked at that, but to Quellan, more used to the dwarf’s rough moods, it seemed clear that the half-orc was not the only one feeling troubled.

He let out a terrific sneeze as his rag stirred up a particularly intense whirlwind of dust.  The mess downstairs would be ten times worse, but he’d get to that when he did, if he did.  For the moment it suited his mood to restore order to this place, a place that should have been a sanctuary, a refuge.

A cough and a soft shuffle of slippers on the bare stone floor announced the arrival of Shenan.  The old priest waved his hand to clear some of the dust still floating in the air and looked around the temple hall with a critical look.  “What’s all this, now?”

After one quick look of acknowledgement Quellan continued with the next shelf.  “I am cleaning the temple,” he said.  “A task that is well past due.”

Shenan pulled a stool out by the altar and settled onto it.  “If you want to clean, then knock yourself out.”

Quellan almost shot back an acerbic reply before he caught himself.  Everything about the other priest rubbed him wrong, from his casual attitude toward the upkeep of his temple to the way he harmed himself with strong drink.  He had known monks back at the monastery who had perhaps a bit too much fondness for ale—Kosk came to mind—but what he’d seen on his first visit here was something else entirely.

Shenan seemed content to sit there and watch him.  Quellan in turn ignored him and bent to his task.  His back twinged to remind him that he’d hiked across the valley and fought two major battles in the last twenty-four hours, but he ignored that as intently as the other priest’s silent presence.

Finally Shenan said, “I remember you.”

This time Quellan couldn’t stop the reflexive response.  “That’s good, since we met only two days ago.”

The old priest snorted.  “Your wit is like the crack of a whip,” he said dryly.  “Of course, wasn’t it Cheslan who commented that jibes are the lowest form of discourse?”

Quellan only grunted as he knelt to reach a low shelf.  But he froze as Shenan said, “What I meant to say, is that I knew your mother.”

Slowly Quellan turned to face him.  “Say what you mean by that.”

“I mean no disrespect,” Shenan said.  “I should say rather that I knew her primarily by reputation; I only met her in person once, and briefly.  But she was regarded as a fine loremaster, a dedicated servant to Hosrenu.”

Quellan was standing, somehow; he didn’t remember getting up.  The dirty rag was curled into a ball in his fist.  “My mother was a settler, a homesteader in the southern Crags that was taken by orcs.”

For a moment Shenan just stared at him.  “Perhaps I was mistaken,” he said.

“That is a very specific way to be mistaken,” Quellan said.  “Why would you say this to me?  Either you are lying, or the elders...”

“There are many reasons why the truth may have been kept from you,” Shenan said into the silence that followed.  “Perhaps it was felt that this was a burden you did not need to carry.  Or perhaps it was her own wish that you not be told…”

Quellan threw the rag across the room, and Shenan flinched as if it had been a boulder.  “I will not hear this from the likes of you!” he said.  “Admit you were lying!”

Shenan slowly rose from his chair.  “I have fallen far, but I have not fallen so far to speak an untruth to an initiate of our order,” he said softly.  “Again, I am sorry.  It was not my intent to cause you pain.”

He strode out of the room.  Quellan just stood there, quivering with an emotion that he could not identify as either rage, fear, or despair.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 117

While Wildrush had only one proper inn, the Brown Barrel, there were at least half a dozen taverns in town.  Most were like the ramshackle establishment on Butcher’s Alley, a stone’s throw from Main Street, close enough to be convenient but far enough away to grant would-be drinkers some privacy.  The place consisted of little more than a bar counter and an assortment of mismatched stools, some of which appeared to date back to the original founding of the town.

Quellan had drawn a lot of looks when he’d come in, and while the place was doing a brisk business, a generous space had opened up around him.  He didn’t mind; he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.  He sat quietly on his stool, staring into the dirty glass in front of him.  A measure of dark liquid shimmered inside.

He still hadn’t tasted it when someone sidled up next to him and took the next stool over.  “Whatcha drinking?” Glori asked.  When Quellan didn’t respond she caught the barkeep’s eye and gestured for him to bring her what the cleric had in front of him.  The man, a grizzled old timer with a hitch in his step, grabbed a bottle and clopped over to her.  He put a fresh glass down but didn’t pour until Glori sighed and tossed a silver piece onto the counter in front of her.  The barkeep made the coin vanish, then gave her a splash of liquor before returning to the other end of the bar.

Glori picked up her cup and swirled the liquor inside.  She looked at it dubiously for a moment, sniffed it, then put it back down.  She sat there quietly for a while, the silence around them a tangible thing despite the loud noises of the men around them and the nearby street.

“This reminds of this one time,” she finally said.  “Majerion and I went to this rough-and-tumble town, real ‘rustic’, full of _colorful_ sorts, if you get my meaning.  We were in this bar—not that different from this one, only more space, as I recall.  We were confronted by these thugs, had to be half a dozen of them.  You could smell them coming from half a league off.  I guess they weren’t fond of elves, because one of them, had to have more than a drop of orc blood in him, he sees us at the back table and starts talking big.  The next thing you know, the place is clearing out, and the lot of them are forming a circle around us.  Blocking the exits, you know.  This was the kind of place where you carried a weapon if you didn’t want to end up knocked out and stripped naked in an alley, so they were all armed.”

Caught up in the story, she took a sip of her drink without thinking.  She made a face and quickly put it down.  She glanced over at Quellan, but he hadn’t moved since she’d arrived.

“So there we were.  This was only about a year after I’d left Tal Nalesh, so I was still a novice.  Most of that day’s a blur in my memory, but I remember the looks on their faces, the scorn, as if they were right here in front of me.  When Majerion started to get up, I thought we were going to get our asses kicked for sure.”

She smiled, lost in the memory.  “You know, I don’t even remember what he said.  Isn’t that strange?  All I remember is that he charmed them.  Now, I’m not talking about magic.  I was nowhere near to mastering bardic magic back then, but I’d learned enough to recognize spellcasting.  No, it wasn’t magic, or at least not the kind that you and I use.  But within ten minutes of him getting up, those men were buying us drinks.  Multiple drinks.  In fact, that’s probably why I don’t remember the details.  There was singing, and I sort of remember somebody juggling knives, but the rest is rather foggy.  I do remember the hangover I had the next day.  It really pissed me off, Majerion never got them, no matter how much he drank.  Maybe it was something to do with being a pureblooded elf.”

“You cared for him,” Quellan said.

“I did,” Glori said.  “He wasn’t just my master.  He was my friend.”

“Yet you’ve said before that he abandoned you.”  He still hadn’t looked at her, just sat there staring down at the cup in his huge hands.

“Yeah.  And if I see him again, he’ll know how pissed that made me.  But that doesn’t mean that I love him any less.”

They sat there quietly for a little while longer.  Finally, Quellan said, “I just found out that my mother was a priestess of Hosrenu, and that the elders of my church deliberately kept that fact from me.”

“That’s rough,” Glori said.

“Yeah.”

“But… just think about it for a minute before you say anything, does it matter?”

He finally looked at her, an expression somewhere between anger and sadness warring on his features.  “What do you mean?” he finally said.

“Who you are hasn’t changed.  Regardless of who your mother was; you still had the same history, the same upbringing.  She died when you were just an infant, right?  So it wouldn’t have made a difference either way.  And I get it, your elders lied to you, or at least omitted the truth, which is pretty much the same thing.  You trusted them, and they let you down.  I understand a betrayed trust, believe me.  But you’ve always struck me as the kind of man who does the right thing because it’s the right thing, not because someone tells him what that is.  I mean, you’re loyal to your god, not to his church, right?”

“I suppose,” he said.

“I know you’ve been hit with some big news.  If somebody showed up and gave me some news about my family, I’m sure I’d be the one sitting here staring at my drink and you’d be the one trying to distract me with stupid stories.  But as someone who’s gone through that herself, I can tell you that it doesn’t change what’s important.  It doesn’t change who you are.  I know it will take you some time to absorb this news, but it will get better, I promise.”

After a moment he nodded.  “You’re a good friend, Glori.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers.  He looked at her again, and for a moment there was something else there between them.  But just for a moment; as he started toi turn toward her one of the men at the end of the bar let out a raucous laugh, and the spell was broken.  Quellan quickly pulled his hand back.

“Let’s go back to the inn, you can buy me a real drink,” Glori said.  “The drinks there are less likely to leave you permanently blinded, I think.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 118

Bredan put down the dirty washcloth and stared at his face in the tiny mirror that hung from the wall above the basin.  There were black hollows under his eyes, and he needed a shave.  There were a few bruises visible across his bare torso.  His body still felt sore, even though Quellan had healed the worst of the wounds left over after the encounter at the mine.  None of them had escaped that wild fracas unscathed.

He looked down at his hand and made a fist, then looked back at the bed, where his father’s sword lay in its scabbard.  He started to reach for it and then stopped.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted the magic to work, or for it not to work.

It had saved his life, once again, in the depths of that cavern where he’d fought the giant mother beetle.  Yet he still had no answers about what was happening to him.  Quellan could offer him no help, no explanation.  The cleric had promised to continue looking into it, but Bredan could see in his friend’s face that he was unlikely to learn anything more in a place like this.  He’d gone over to the temple, where apparently they had a small library, but he wasn’t optimistic that there would be some secret bit of lore in one of the ancient books that explained his situation.

A knock at the door shook him from his reverie.  “Come in,” he said.

The door opened, and Rodan stepped into the room.  On seeing Bredan half-dressed, the ranger said, “I’m sorry to bother you.  If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“No, it’s fine,” Bredan said.

Rodan came in and shut the door behind him.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.  Quellan took care of the worst of it.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.  For us to get to you, I mean.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But somebody from Wildrush had to be involved,” Rodan said.  “That ambush… it was carefully set up.  They knew you woud be there, somehow.”

“I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t mind a few minutes in an alley with that magic-user,” Bredan said.  He reached for the clean shirt he’d set out on the table wedged into the corner at the foot of Quellan’s bed, and grimaced slightly as the move caused a painful twinge in his shoulder.

“You are young to have so many scars,” Rodan commented.  “I did not mean to make you self-conscious,” he added as Bredan quickly pulled on the shirt.

“No, it’s fine,” Bredan said.  “I guess I’ve been in a lot of fights over the last few months.”

“Why do you do it?” Rodan asked.  “The fighting.”

Bredan looked thoughtful.  “My father was a warrior.  He died when I was a child, but my uncle told me some things about him.  My uncle—he was the one who trained me.  So many hours, practicing.  I think I spent more time with a practice sword in my hands than a hammer.”

“He was a blacksmith?”

“Yeah.  I was his apprentice.  I have that to thank for my strength, I guess.  I would have inherited his shop, eventually.  But I didn’t want to spend my life in a smithy.  I wanted to _do_ something.  Get out, see the world, do something with my life.”

“And slaying monsters… this gives you what you need?”

“I don’t know.  I mean, I’ve done some fighting for money.  Quests, that kind of thing.  I guess that makes me a mercenary.  But I’ve also helped villagers, protected people.  That made me feel something.  A sense of purpose, maybe.”

“So you volunteered for the king’s army, to join the war against the warlord Murgoth and his raiders.  To protect people on a larger scale.”

“Yeah.  And ended up here, about as far from the war as you can get, I think.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.  I mean, I doubt the chimera was working for Murgoth or anything, but this magic-user…  from what you said, he was involved with both the giants and these men who ambushed you.  I don’t think that is a coincidence.”

“Well.  Maybe Caleron brought back the personal effects of the miners, including the two that died.  Maybe he will find something that can help make sense what happened at the mine.  Those bugs were definitely not normal.  And while the magic-user helped rile them up as part of the ambush, I’m pretty sure they were there before he showed up.”

“From what you said, I’m almost sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t be.  The whole thing was creepy and scary and that mother bug was like nothing I’d ever seen.  Or want to see again.”

Rodan laughed.  “I’ll take your word for it, then.  Care to go down and get a drink?  I’m buying.”

“I don’t think our money’s good here anymore.  Between that head you brought back, and the miners who are glad to be alive, I’ve had plenty of folks try to buy me a drink since we got back.  Though I’m not sure the miners are going to be happy when they find out that their jobs are at risk.”

“I thought we burned out all the bugs.”

Bredan shook his head.  “I wouldn’t be sure about that big mother.”  He went over to the bed, but Rodan stopped him with a light touch on his arm.

“You know… you don’t have to be alone, Bredan.”

Bredan stared at him for a moment, then Rodan finally said, “I… I’m sorry.  I… let’s go down and…”

He started to turn toward the door, but Bredan caught him and pulled him back.  They met in an embrace that ended in a tender kiss.  Rodan started to wrap his arms around Bredan, but abruptly pulled back.

“What’s the matter?” Bredan asked.

Rodan reached up and touched the amulet that he wore around his neck.  “There’s something… there’s something that you need to know about me.  Before… before this goes any further.”

Bredan nodded.  “Okay.  You can tell me…”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.  The two of them each took a step back, and Rodan tugged his coat closed.

Bredan went to the door, and opened it to find Darven Caleron standing there.  The mine boss was holding a small leather book, bulging with sheets of loose parchment stuffed between the pages.  “I found something,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 119

Xeeta ignored the twitching of her fingers and resisted the urge to lift her cowl as she walked past the guards watching the gate and into the town.  The soldiers paid her barely any attention, and the ordinary folk moving through the streets even less, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was watching her.

The people here had reason to be curious, she told herself.  This place probably didn’t see many visitors.  After all she’d gone through to get here, she could understand why.  On top of that there was the war.  This place was about as far from the front lines as one could get, but it was still in the mountains, and the mountains were where the enemy lived.

Clearly the local authorities were well aware of that fact.  She’d been met by armed sentries well outside of town, near the point where the road crested the rim of the valley.  Fortunately, she’d heard them coming and could prepare.  They had accepted her story about searching for a long-lost relative who’d relocated out here years ago, or at least they’d let her pass after recording the information she’d given them in a ledger book.  They’d had a lot of questions about the road through the mountains, and events in the world outside, but there hadn’t been that much she could tell them.  Since leaving her former companions she’d made an effort to avoid people.  It hadn’t been difficult, since most of the settlements she’d passed north of Adelar had been empty, abandoned by their residents out of fear of Kavel Murgoth’s raiders.

There had been vigilant watchers on the road that led into town as well, forcing her to expend a second casting of her _alter self_ sooner than she would have preferred.  That only left her with a single use in reserve, but she was not especially worried.  This visit into town was just a brief foray, a reconnaissance that would allow her to make further plans.  She was not in a hurry.

After all, Wildrush was her new home.

The mood of the town was tense but busy.  The guards had told her about the recent chimera attack, and she could see the results of its handiwork as groups of men cleared scorched wood from a number of structures and replaced it with fresh timber.  More than one building looked like it had been recently abandoned, too damaged to do anything but tear it down and rebuild.  The main street was unpaved, the surface riven with wagon ruts and frequent patches of mud, but it was much better than the side streets and narrow alleys that darted off between the wooden buildings along its length.  Those structures ranged from brand new to aging and decrepit, but all of them had a certain tired look to them.  The residents were generally the same, clad in a layer of dust and grit over their rugged leathers and heavy woolens.  At first glance the residents appeared to be mostly humans and dwarves, with an occasional half-orc or elf in the mix.  There looked to be about one woman for every five men, though Xeeta assumed that more of the former would likely be found in kitchens and back rooms of the houses she passed.  She knew from past experience that such imbalances created strain in a society.  Everyone seemed to be minding their own business.

In other words, it was _perfect_.

A bearded man leaning on one of the porch supports of a general store tipped his hat to her and said, “Haven’t seen you before, missy.  Buy you a drink?”  As if his come-on hadn’t been unsubtle enough, he punctuated it with a leer that took her in from boots to head.

Xeeta responded with a rude gesture.  The man laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile as she walked past.  Before she was out of earshot he was already calling out to another passer-by.

The town wasn’t that big, but she didn’t want to waste time wandering about.  She walked up to a place that had the look of a tavern.  An old man was sitting on a bench out front, trying to extract the last bits of smoke from a spent pipe.  “Excuse me,” she said.  “Can you tell me where the land office is?”

The old man looked at her then tapped out his pipe on the bench beside him.  “You’ll be wanting the governor’s place,” he said.  “You just passed it.”  Gesturing with his pipe, he added, “Go back toward the square, then take that side street there.  It’s the house with the big balcony with them frilly wooden posts.  Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning back into the traffic to retrace her steps.  She wouldn’t have enough time to finish her business in town today, but she would scout out the lay of the land, maybe ask a few questions, then return to the ruined cabin she’d found earlier in the day.

Wildrush had been her plan all along, long before she’d heard of the war in the north, or met Bredan and the others.  The grizzled old miner she’d run into in Brevaris had told her all about it.  He’d been so intent on his tale and the mugs of ale she’d bought for him that he hadn’t tried to look under her cowl, or wonder why she’d kept it up in the warmth of the common room.  The town he’d described had sounded perfect even then.  Isolated, distant, with a low population of hard-scrabble folk with an independent bent.  There were plenty of abandoned homesteads scattered across the northern Silverpeak Valley, grave markers of the last silver boom.  But it had been his wistful recounting of the valley’s natural beauty that had caught firm hold of her imagination, and set her on the long road that had led her here.

She intended to buy a piece of land, to go through the legal process to ensure that she couldn’t be bullied or pressured by the local interests who no doubt dominated the town’s affairs.  She still had most of her share of the treasure from her adventures with Bredan and his friends.  The recent troubles that the town had felt would hopefully push prices down a bit, but knew that in places like this isolation and the high cost of trade often affected the local economy, making things more expensive.  It didn’t matter; if money was an issue she’d claim an out-of-the-way place and worry about the legalities later.

She was so intent on her plans that she didn’t notice the familiar face until he was almost on top of her.  The unexpected sight jolted her so intensely that she almost lost her concentration on her active spell.  Her first thought was to curse herself for not changing her features with her _alter self_ spell; she’d gotten in the habit of just using it to mask her tiefling features, even though it could have easily given her a completely different face.  Her second thought was to hide, but even as she started to turn the dwarf looked up and saw her.  He’d clearly been distracted by his own thoughts, but there was no mistaking the recognition—followed by surprise—in his eyes.

She stepped to the side of the street, out of the way of the foot traffic and the occasional passing cart.  He followed her.  She could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“Hello, Kosk,” she said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 120

“Xeeta,” Kosk said.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.  So you followed us after all, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Xeeta replied.  “Is everyone all right?  I assume that Bredan and Glori and Quellan are with you.”

“They’re all well enough.  We’ve had a few scrapes since we got here.”

“Same as always, eh?  Saw some dead ogres on the way here.  Your work?”

“Indeed,” he said.  “Lost a few good people, and one got away—a hill giant.”

Xeeta couldn’t help but shudder at that; if she’d run into an angry giant while alone on the road it would have been trouble, big trouble.  “And I’d guess that you were involved with that business with the chimera I’ve been hearing about.”  She knew she was talking too much and too fast, but she was desperate to keep him from asking probing questions.

“Hard not to get involved, not with Bredan and Quellan around.”

“Looks like your life’s been eventful since I left.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“From the look on your face a minute ago, it looks like maybe you’ve found some more trouble.”

The dwarf’s expression sharpened, and for a moment Xeeta feared she’d said something wrong.  But then Kosk nodded and said, “Could be you’re the only person here—save for the other members of our group—that I can trust.”  He rubbed his chin, which looked like it hadn’t been shaved in a few days; a generous ration of stubble had already emerged.  “Someone’s trying to kill us.”

“Making friends again, eh?” she said.  At his look she quickly added, “Whatever I can do to help, of course.  Where are the others?”

“At the inn, I figure.  Quellan might be at the local temple.  I haven’t had a chance to talk to them yet.  I got some new information just an hour ago.  I was going to head over to the inn to find them, but first I wanted to drop in at the business of this local notable who’s apparently up to his eyeballs in the whole business.  From what I’ve seen of this place he’s like to bolt if he gets word that I know he’s involved.  I don’t know who all else is part of it, but there’s this shifty magic-user who keeps popping up.  He’s good at blowing stuff up.”

“Uh oh,” Xeeta said.  “You’re in a hurry, then.”

“Yeah.”  He looked her over.  “I take it you’re on the clock too.”  He knew about the magic that she used to disguise her true nature, and how temporary it was.

“I can help you confront this guy, if you want,” she said.  She didn’t want to deal with the others, especially Bredan, not yet.  There was no way to avoid them now, but she would definitely prefer to have some time to think about what she was going to tell them.  They would probably understand the truth, but she had gone through too much in her life to be loose with the secrets she still had.

“All right,” Kosk said.  He led her off the main avenue into the tight warren of side-streets that connected the rest of the town.  He didn’t seem to have a very clear idea of where he was going, but in a town the size of Wildrush it wasn’t that easy to get lost.  It took only a few minutes before they found themselves in a cul-de-sac dominated by a warehouse-sized workshop.  A rolling wooden door stood wide open, revealing a cavernous interior where about a dozen men worked at several workstations building barrels, simple furniture, and other things crafted from cut wood.

Kosk left Xeeta to keep an eye out from the entry while he went in to talk with the workers.  It only took him a minute to confirm that the man he was looking for was not present.  When he came out again he looked about ready to chew nails.  “Think your man’s skipped town?” she asked.

“He’s an important local figure,” Kosk said.  “He wouldn’t have gone far unless he’d thought there was no other choice.”  He peered down the length of the street, as if sheer intensity would cause his quarry to appear.  “I should go talk to the Governor, put the word out, but I’m not sure I can trust him either.”

“You think he’s corrupt?  The King’s man?”

“I’ve seen men of his rank fall before,” Kosk said.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this town was on the take.”

“Maybe it’s time to bring in the others,” Xeeta said.  “I can’t stay, but I can arrange to meet you tomorrow, if you wish.”

He peered at her as if he could read her thoughts.  “Fine, fine,” he said.  “You’ve got a quiet spot outside of town?”

“Yes.”

“All right.  Be careful.  There’s something odd afoot in this valley.  Something beyond wandering creatures and corrupt local officials.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Aye, but don’t be surprised if Bredan comes looking for you.  I imagine Rodan could figure out where you’ve been… what?”

He cut off as Xeeta reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.  “Who’s that you’re talking about?” she asked.

“Just some local ranger.  He helped us out with the chimera.  Kind of a prick, but he seems to know his business.  Why?”

“Describe him.  Please.”

Kosk gave her a dubious look, but started to provide an overview of the man.  He only managed a few sentences before Xeeta cut him off.  “We need to find the others.”

“What are you…”

“We need to go to them,” she said, cutting him off.  “Now, Kosk.  Right now.”


----------



## carborundum

What? No! You got me! 
It's a classic Friday cliffhanger and I forgot it was coming )


----------



## Lazybones

That's what I do!

My posting schedule may be a bit irregular over the coming few weeks; I have a few things going on that may keep me from making my usual updates. It should all clear up by the end of February.

* * * 

Chapter 121

The common room of the Brown Barrel was relatively quiet, even for the middle of the day.  Now that the chimera was dead the population of Wildrush had thrown itself into a frenzy of rebuilding, and even the idle folks who preferred to spend the day nursing a mug of ale had been caught up in it.  Only a few of the dozen tables or the stools that fronted the long bar were occupied, and the bartender was spending more time wiping down bottles and polishing glasses than serving up refills.

One side of the room was dominated by a raised nook a step above the rest of the floor.  It was dominated by a single long table flanked by benches.  The perimeter of the nook was crowded with wooden racks that held, quite naturally, barrels, an assortment of 20-gallon casks that had their contents marked on the lids in chalk.  A side door that led out into the alley stood in the back of the nook, next to a hatch that led down into the cellar.

When Glori and Quellan arrived and stepped through the swinging doors at the front of the common room it only took them a moment to spot Bredan and Rodan seated at the table in the nook.  The ranger quickly rose and crossed the room to greet them, gesturing for the bartender to bring them more glasses.

“We’ve got something,” Rodan said, his voice low enough that it didn’t carry past the two new arrivals.  “Caleron found it.  But I’m a little bit worried about Bredan, he’s… well, you can see for yourself.”

Frowning, Glori crossed the room quickly, Quellan and Rodan just a step behind her.  Bredan was sitting with his back to the room, with a thin, leather-bound book and a collection of assorted parchments spread out in front of him on the table.  He was bent over them so that his eyes were less than a foot from the pages, so intent on them that she doubted he’d even heard them come in.  She cleared her throat and said, “What’s all this?”

He lifted his head and blinked at her.  “Oh.  Glori, Quellan.  Good to see you.  The mine leader gave this to us.  It belonged to Elver.”

“He was one of the miners who died in the beetle attack, wasn’t he?” Quellan asked.  He picked up one of the loose sheets of parchment, every inch of which was covered in a dense scrawl of writing.

“What is it, some kind of journal?” Glori asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at the book.

“Sort of,” Bredan said.  “At least, that’s how it started out.  Reflections on his job, everyday thoughts, that sort of thing.”

“Just the fact of literacy among his crew is something of a notable event,” Rodan said.

“Don’t talk ill of the dead,” Glori chided, but she frowned as she touched another of the parchments with her finger.  “This all looks like gibberish.”

“It gets more nonsensical over time,” Bredan said.  “Apparently, he suffered from bad dreams, visions almost.  But I’m convinced that he knew that something was going to happen.  He writes here about a, ‘power growing under the ground.’”

“It sounds like he was crazy,” Glori said.

“It’s more than that,” Bredan said.  “He was perceiving something real.”

“Do you think he was somehow responsible for the attack by the vermin?” Quellan asked.

Bredan shook his head.  “Not responsible,” he said.  “Connected, somehow.”

Glori looked like she was going to say something, but they were interrupted by the bartender, who brought over a tray holding four mugs of ale.  He cleared away the empties—Bredan hadn’t touched his last one—then returned to his place on the far side of the room.

“Bredan,” she said.  She flicked her eyes briefly at Rodan before continuing.  “Is this connected to what’s happening to you?”

Rodan had picked up his mug, but he straightened and put it down untasted.  For a minute the young smith-turned-warrior fidgeted in his seat, then finally he brought a fist down slowly onto the surface of the table and said, “I don’t know.”  He looked up at Rodan, saw the question on his face.  Bredan sighed.  “I can do magic,” he said.  “Sometimes.  It’s happened a few times now.  The first time was in the fight with the ogres who ambushed us on the road through the mountains.  More recently, it came in real handy in the battle against the beetles.”

“Magic?” Rodan asked.  “What kind of magic?”

“I don’t know,” Bredan said.  “It only seems to work when I’m in dire straits; at least, I haven’t been able to summon it deliberately.  I’ve been able to conjure a magical shield that lasts just a few seconds, and bring my sword back to my hand if I lose it.”

“It saved our lives, I suspect,” Quellan said.  “That giant bug would have squashed us into paste if you hadn’t intervened.”

“It sounds like arcane magic,” Rodan said.  “I mean, I haven’t met a lot of casters in my day, but it’s not like you can summon demons or cause earthquakes or anything, right?”

The others shared a quick look at that, and the ranger’s eyebrows lifted until Bredan shook his head and said, “No, nothing like that.”

“So how is that connected to… this?” Rodan asked, gesturing toward the documents atop the table.

“Because of this,” Bredan said.  He drew out a fold of parchment that had been tucked into the back of the book.  He carefully unfolded it to reveal an odd diagram.  Dozens if not hundreds of lines stretched across the sheet, surrounded by tiny scrawls of unreadable text and other markings that made no sense but which evoked unpleasant feelings when looked upon for too long.

“That… that’s gibberish,” Glori said.

“I have to agree,” Rodan said.  “I don’t know much about magic, but that looks like the product of a sick mind.”

“Do you see something else in it, Bredan?” Quellan asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“I can,” Bredan said.  “It’s a map.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 122

“A map?” Glori asked. “Of what?”

“The valley,” Rodan said.  “The Silverpeak.”

They all looked at the ranger, whose expression had gone from confusion to sudden realization.  “I couldn’t see it before, not until you pointed it out,” he said.  “But now… these lines, they align to the terrain features of the valley and the surrounding mountains.”

“Lines of power,” Quellan said.

“I remember my mentor saying something about those,” Glori said.  “Ley lines or something like that.”

“Yes,” Quellan said.  “Magic is not a universal constant in the world.  It gathers and concentrates in alignment to natural rules that even the most advanced scholars do not fully understand.”

“Then how do you know they are rules?” Rodan asked.

“A debate for another time, perhaps,” Glori said.  “And maybe someplace a bit less public.”  She cast a meaningful look about the inn, though there was nobody sitting within ten paces of their table.

Bredan had been studying the map, and while the others talked his finger traveled along the network of lines before settling on a spot along the edge of the sheet of parchment.  He turned the sheet so that the point was facing him.  “Here,” he said.  “This is where we’ll find it.”

Glori studied the map.  Many of the lines came together at the point that Bredan had indicated, but it wasn’t the only such place of intersection indicated.  “Find what?” she asked.

“Answers.  Why we’re here.  Why we’re all here.”

“We’re here because we were sent here,” Glori said.  “Because of the war.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Bredan said.

“How do you know that this point in particular is significant?” Glori asked.

“I just know,” Bredan said stubbornly.

“Ah…” Rodan said.  “Bredan, I mean no offense, but you’re starting to sound a bit like the man who wrote in that book.”

“That’s not fair,” Quellan said.  “What’s happening to Bredan is real.  We all saw it.  If the phenomenon that granted him magical powers is also giving him insight into this design, then this could make all sense, just in a way that we can’t see from our current perspective.”

“Yeah, or you could be going nuts,” Glori said, clasping a hand on Bredan’s shoulder.

“Something’s happening to me,” Bredan said.  “Maybe I am going crazy.  But I need to know what it is.”

“If this drawing is a representation of the valley,” Rodan said, “Than this point is at the far end of the valley, near its southernmost point.  That’s far from any settlements.  Dangerous ground.”

“We’ll manage,” Quellan said.  “We’ve faced danger in unfriendly lands before.”

“I saw what you can do,” Rodan said.  “But you don’t know the Silverpeak like I do.  I can show you.  I’ve never been to this specific spot, but I know the valley better than anyone.”

“You won’t be showing anyone anything,” a voice from the front of the inn declaimed loudly.

They all turned to watch as Kosk strode boldly into the common room.  The dwarf’s face was a brewing storm.  His dramatic entrance drew the attention of everyone in the inn, but on seeing his expression most of them turned back to their drinks.

Rodan retreated a step before that look of accusation.  Kosk came to a stop just shy of the step that led up into the nook, perhaps not coincidentally placing him in a good position to block any attempt by the ranger to escape in that direction.

Glori stepped back from the table as well, her eyes flicking back and forth between them.  “Why not?” she asked.

“Because he’s been lying to us,” Kosk said.  “He’s an assassin.”

Quellan looked at Rodan.  “Is that true?”

The ranger retreated another step, but he shook his head.  “I’m no saint,” he said.  “But I’m not a killer.”

Bredan rose from the table, his bench scraping back loudly.  “He fought with us,” he said.  “He risked his life to save others.  I hope you’ve got some proof, Kosk.”

“Did you hear something from one of the locals?” Glori asked.  “How do you know Rodan’s an assassin?”

In the heat of the confrontation none of them noticed when the side door opened and a slender figure stepped into the inn.  But when she closed the door behind her she shot the bolt loudly, causing those at the table to start in surprise.

“I know because I was there,” Xeeta said.  She reached up and drew back her cowl, revealing the deep red tint of her skin and the curved horns of her tiefling ancestry.  “I know, because I was one of them.”

They all looked to Rodan, who looked as though he’d been stabbed in the gut.  “Xeeta,” he said.  “You’re alive.”

“Yes,” she said.  “No thanks to you, cousin.”

The ranger had taken another step back, until the rack of barrels was behind him.  He looked almost like a cornered animal, and as his eyes flicked between Kosk and Xeeta, gauging his chances for escape, Bredan stepped forward.  “Don’t,” he said.  “I don’t know what all this is about, but we can work it out, Rodan.”

“Show them,” Xeeta said.  “Show them, or I will do it myself.”

With one last look, this time across the common room to the townsfolk who were watching the confrontation with wide eyes, Rodan nodded and lifted his hand to the amulet he wore.  With a subtle twitch of his fingers the chain came apart.  As the amulet fell clear his features wavered and shifted, until they were replaced by something else.

The basic outline of his face hadn’t changed; he was still recognizable as the man they’d known.  But the ranger’s skin was now a dusky red, the color of pomegranate seeds.  His eyes were solid orbs of shimmering silver, and his hairline retreated a bit to make room for two ridged horns that jutted up from his temples like spikes.  He looked at them with a grim expression as Quellan and Bredan’s hands reached reflexively for the hilts of their weapons.

“He’s a tiefling,” Glori said.


----------



## carborundum

Cool! I thought he might be the drow. 
Well played


----------



## Lazybones

I'm back! This is the final post of Book 5.

* * * 

Chapter 123

The holding cells were in the cellar of the Governor’s House, squeezed in among storerooms and sleeping quarters for the lowest-ranking members of his staff.  They occupied one corner of the building, four small rooms accessed by a narrow hallway.  A narrow, barred window set at ground level—near the ceiling of the cellar—let in a meager light.

A lock in that door rattled, and after a moment the iron-bound portal swung open on creaky hinges.  Bredan stepped forward into the hallway alone.  He had a lamp in one hand and a small parcel wrapped in cloth in the other.  He wasn’t wearing his armor, and if he’d brought his sword he had left it outside.  After a moment the door swung shut behind him and the lock clicked shut.

After a moment’s hesitation he started forward down the length of the cell block.  The cell doors were made of layered wooden planks that had been generously banded with iron.  Each had a horizontal slit in the center, surrounded by more iron banding that jutted out at the bottom of the gap to form a narrow shelf.

Bredan walked all of the way to the last cell.  There was a stool there, and he set the lamp on top of it before turning to the door.

“Are you awake?” he asked.  “Rodan?”

There was no response, and after a moment Bredan stuffed the parcel into the slot in the door.  It barely fit, and jutted out from the opening when he managed to get it wedged in place.  “I brought you something to eat,” he said.  “It’s not much, just something from the kitchen at the inn.  Better than what they have here, probably.”

After a moment, the package wriggled and then disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.

Bredan put the lamp on the floor in front of him and sat down.  “I’m sorry about this,” he said.  “But you lied to us.”

“I never lied to you,” came a soft voice from the cell.

“Leaving aside the whole disguise thing, you said that the amulet gave you resistance to fire.”

“No,” Rodan said.  “I said it was magic, and that I have resistance to fire.  Both are true.”

Bredan shook his head.  “That’s splitting hairs.”

“Sometimes that’s all I can do.  You’re angry because I concealed my true nature from you.  You were with Xeeta for a while, yes?  Surely you saw how people treat us.”

“I’m not like that.”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  For what it’s worth, I was going to tell you.  I was about to, when Caleron interrupted us.  I wouldn’t… it wasn’t my intent for that to happen.”

“From what I know of illusion magic, I would have found out real quick if things had… progressed,” Bredan said.

“From that discussion in the inn, before the dwarf returned… you have been keeping your own secrets.”

“That’s different,” Bredan said.  “That’s something that was done to me, I had no control over it.”

“Yet you chose to keep it from your friends.  And I am what I am… I had no control over who… or _what_ my parents are.”

“But Xeeta said you were an assassin.  You started to deny it, but after she confronted you with it…”

The voice that came through the door sounded tired.  “Then ask her, she’ll tell you.”

“She won’t talk about it.  She just says that you and she had both been part of an underground organization in Li Syval, a group that commited crimes and killed people.”

“She’s right.”

“That’s not good enough,” Bredan said.  “I want answers.”

“You want answers.  Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I want the truth.  I think I deserve that.”

There was a long silence.  Finally, Rodan said, “I was born of the union of a mortal woman and a fiend… a creature commonly called a devil.  Such entities are rarely drawn to this realm for innocent purposes.  This one was summoned on purpose, by a cult in Li Syval that venerated such entities.  Or more accurately, perhaps, venerated the power that they could grant.”

“I wasn’t the only one who was created out of such a… joining.  Xeeta was another, and a number of others.  The cult raised us.  Our fiendish progenitors… they did not stick around, let’s just say.  The cult trained us to be tools.  Weapons.  To steal, to destroy, and yes, to kill, when it suited their purposes.  The ‘gifts’ that our bloodline grants us make us freaks, but they also make us powerful.  You’ve seen some of them.  We’re resistant to fire, can see in the dark… and we very often display magical talents as we age.”

“That… that sounds awful,” Bredan said.

“It was all that we knew,” Rodan continued.  “The techniques that the cult used to maintain control of their ‘Blooded’—that’s what they called us—were strict.  Few of us defied commands more than once.  Every now and again one of us would become willful, refuse to cooperate.  Maybe it was in their blood.  The cult made very those into examples for the rest.  I saw it happen once.  Needless to say, it was a convincing lesson.”

Bredan, pale, shook his head but didn’t say anything.

“Even though they controlled us so effectively, there were some among us who resisted, who carefully concealed that resistance from all save for a few among the Blooded.  For a long time there was nothing they could do.  The cult leaders were too careful, and they were on the ascendence.  The cult had used its power to rise to a position of influence in Li Syval.”

“Then things began to take a turn for the worse.  A new faction arose in the Ruling Council, and there was a backlash against groups that relied on magic for their power.  Two prominent figures in the cult were exposed as devil-worshippers, and the population unified against the rest in horror.  Our masters were driven underground, back where they had started.”

“We didn’t know much about what was happening at the time.  We only saw the wider world on missions, and those were carefully controlled so that there was little risk of revealing our true nature.  We were told that if others learned what we were, we’d be executed immediately for the crime of being what we were.”

“A few of us decided it was time to risk escape.  We planned every detail, every possible contingency.  We had to be careful; even though the cult leaders’ desperation was causing them to send us on more and more missions, they were still watching us closely.”

“I never learned how they found out about our plans.  Maybe one of us betrayed us to them; maybe we weren’t as careful as we thought.  Maybe it was just bad luck.  I don’t know if they decided we were no longer worth the trouble, but I remember it when Keesa—she was one of the oldest among us—she was killed, right in front of me.  They came into our quarters and just started killing.  I remember picking up a dagger and stabbing one of them.  I can still remember what it felt like.  I’ve killed a lot of people, Bredan.  But somehow that one, I can’t forget her face.”

“In the confusion, a few of us managed to get out.  They hadn’t found out all of our secrets, and there was a way out of the complex that they didn’t know about.  We… we got separated.  There was more fighting, all over the lair.  They weren’t just killing us; apparently some members of the cult were settling old scores.  I hope they all wiped each other out.”

“Up until the moment I saw Xeeta in that common room, I didn’t know if any of the others had made it out.  I ran, and I never stopped running.  The amulet helped me escape; I’d used it on some missions to conceal my appearance, and knew how to use it to hide what I was.”

“If you had it, why didn’t you just leave earlier?” Bredan asked.

“They never sent us alone,” Rodan said.  “They knew how to turn us against each other.  And they knew which of us were close to each other.  They knew how to use that, too.”

“Gods,” Bredan said.  “Why… if Xeeta was with you, why did she denounce you?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe she thinks I was the traitor, that I betrayed our plans to escape.  Or maybe I’m just a reminder of who… of _what_ we are.”

“I don’t understand,” Bredan said.  “If you had the amulet… how did she recognize you?”

“Stupidity,” Rodan said.  “I kept my own face, and my name, the name she knew.  I took away the features my father gave me, but I kept my own face, otherwise.  It was a mistake.  But I needed to keep _something_ of myself.”

“That’s not your name?”

“It’s not the name they gave me,” Rodan said.  “But some of us, we chose our own names.  I should have picked something different, a new name for a new life.  But I could not.”

“I want to believe you,” Bredan said.  “You fought with us.  You risked your life against the chimera.  But you weren’t with us when we went to the mine.  Kosk said that one of the local leaders was involved, that he helped arrange for some locals to ambush us, to join that mage.  Quellan and Glori both think he’s the same one that attacked us with the giants on the road to the valley.”

“I wasn’t involved with that,” Rodan said.  “But I see how it looks.  Somebody had to tip them off to where you were, that you were going to the mine.  Somebody who knew the terrain well enough to set up an ambush.”

“We talked to the miners, they confirmed that you were with them until you got to town.”

“But, I am a tiefling, an acknowledged killer and knave, spawn of the lower planes.  If someone could have pulled it off, surely it was one such as I.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Bredan said.  “Maybe I’m just some dumb yokel, smart enough to pound metal but nothing better.  But I don’t think you’re that good of a liar.”

“You haven’t seen enough of the world yet, my friend.”

“Well… I’m sorry it had to come to this.  Maybe we can work it all out when we get back.”

“You’re going then.  To investigate this map of yours.”

“Yeah.  Like I said.  I need answers.”

For a moment the tiefling’s face appeared in the narrow opening in the door.  “Be careful, Bredan.  I wasn’t lying when I said that the south valley is dangerous.  And if there is something important at that spot where the lines of power meet, you might not be the only one drawn to it.”

Bredan nodded.  “We’ll be careful.”  He picked up the lamp and stood.  “I’ll talk to the guards, make sure they treat you okay.  Quellan’s already spoken with the Governor.  It may be frontier law up here, but there’s still law, and nobody’s proven that you’ve done anything.”

“Well, thanks for that, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

He started to turn away, but Rodan asked, “Xeeta?  Is she going with you?”

“I believe so.  Her power… it’s quite considerable.”

“She’s always had a gift for magic.  Well, good.  I’m sure the locals would be happy to toss her in the cell next to mine, if she wasn’t with you.”

“You’re not going to tell me to watch her, that she can’t be trusted?”

“No.  If anything, the opposite.  None of us are ‘good,’ Bredan.  I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth sooner, when it could have made a difference.  But I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Bredan didn’t respond, he just turned and walked back down the hall to the exit.


----------



## carborundum

Nice! I can't imagine this group is strong enough to get past the elementals yet either. I'm looking forward to how you'll get them all in there


----------



## Lazybones

Book 6: PLOT ARCS

Chapter 124

Xeeta shivered as she washed her hands and arms in the icy water of the stream.  That was one thing she missed about Li Syval, she thought: the mild southern winters.  The strong winds could churn up the waters of the Blue Deep until the surface was like a mountain range, and it could rain so hard that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, but at least it wasn’t _cold_.

She decided that she’d had enough of a wash—it wasn’t like any of the others were going to smell her over the ripe stink of the men—and reached for the clean shirt she’d brought with her from the camp.  But as she started to turn she heard a noise from the forest behind her.  Her hand shifted to her rod, tucked in close against her left leg where she could feel its reassuring presence.  She could feel the Demon stirring inside her as she tightened her grasp on her arcane focus.

“It’s just me,” Glori said.

Xeeta relaxed her grip and rose, picking up the shirt as she did.  She turned as the half-elven woman approached the stream, carrying several of their waterskins.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Glori said.

“No bother,” Xeeta said.  She pulled on the clean shirt over her damp undershirt.  “Did Bredan send you to look after me?”

“Quellan, actually,” Glori said with a smile as she knelt beside the stream and started refilling the containers.  “He does have a point.  In this place, we should all be extra careful.  No wandering off alone.”

Xeeta looked around, and had to admit that the forest did look rather forbidding as the night settled over it.  She had no difficulty with the darkness, one of the “gifts” of her heritage, and their camp was close enough that she could have hit it easily with a thrown rock, hidden in the nook of a fallen tree that offered a ready shelter against the approaching night.

“It’s hard to believe we’re only a day’s walk from Wildrush,” Glori said.  “It feels like no one has ever been in this place before.”

“Yes,” Xeeta said, though she knew that such feelings were an illusion, born of the mind’s desire to make sense of things it couldn’t easily process.  In reality the forest was just another place, though admittedly one where she did not know the rules.  Such places made her nervous, but she was used to keeping such feelings hidden from view, deep inside where no one else could tell they were there.

“I talked with Bredan,” Glori said, shaking each of the filled waterskins to make sure the stoppers were set firmly.  “He told me some of the things that Rodan told him.  About your time together in Li Syval.  I’m sorry for what happened, for what was done to you.”

“The past is the past,” Xeeta said.  “But its legacy… one can’t run from it.”

Glori came up to stand next to her.  “I know that you only came with us because of a need to prove that you’re different,” she said.

Xeeta shook her head, but the bard’s words were close enough to the truth to give her pause.  She had a feeling that if she’d remained in Wildrush, she either would have ended up in a cell next to Rodan or been shown the road at the point of a spear.  She’d left plenty of places that way in her past, but after all of the effort she’d put into getting here, all of the buildup she’d allowed herself to apply to the words of a drunk miner, she found that she could not give up on the Silverpeak Valley so easily.

“I hope you don’t regret speaking for me,” Xeeta said.  She regretted her own words as soon as they were spoken, but Glori just shook her head.

“I don’t,” she said.  “This journey… it’s for Bredan, he needs it.  And I have a feeling that he’s going to need all of his friends for this one.  I think… I think he was starting to feel close to Rodan.  It hit him hard, finding out the way he did.”

“I felt you had a right to know,” Xeeta replied.  Her skin coloration meant that she couldn’t blush, but she felt the sting of hypocrisy in her gut as she spoke.

Glori just looked at her.  “Let’s get back,” she said.  “Or Kosk will have eaten our suppers as well.”

“I’m sure he’s still lamenting the loss of that elk,” Xeeta said.  Her thoughts traveled back to their encounter earlier that day, just a few hours after entering the forest.  The creature had been the size of a small cottage, the spread of its antlers wide enough to scoop up all of them together in a single lunge.  The giant elk had spotted them as the same moment that they’d seen it, and for a long moment the two sides had just stared at each other.  Xeeta remembered its eyes, which had shown no fear.  Finally, the adventurers had backed away, choosing a different path that took them around the majestic creature.

“That beast’s good eating,” Glori said, in an exaggerated impression of the dwarf that had Xeeta smiling.  But her smile faded as they rounded the bulk of the dead tree and returned to their camp.

They had built their fire in a depression formed by the fallen giant, where its glow wouldn’t be readily visible.  The three men had already squared away their gear, and Quellan was chopping vegetables to add to their stewpot.  He looked up as they approached.  “Everything all right?”

“Didn’t see anything, but this forest gives me the creeps,” Glori said.

“I thought you elvish types were supposed to thrive in the deep wood,” Kosk muttered.

“And I thought you dwarves never left your dark and musty and vermin-filled tunnels,” the bard shot back.

“Dwarf holds are nothing like that,” Kosk said.  “Vermin,” he added with a snort.

“Yeah, well, none of the elvish forests I’ve been in were anything like this place,” Glori said.  “Even in the daylight, it felt… old.  And lonely.”

“It’s just a forest,” Quellan said, but the way he looked around as he said it suggested he also felt some of what the bard was describing.

Xeeta went over to her gear and packed away the dirty shirt.  She would have tried washing it in the stream, but she doubted it would have been dry by morning, even with the warmth of the fire.  When she was done she glanced up and saw Bredan watching her.

The young human had chosen a flat spot a bit away from the others.  He had taken out his sword and his sharpening stone, but they sat in his lap, forgotten.  He had a haunted look in his eyes, as if seeing something that the rest of them couldn’t.  Xeeta could understand that look.

Glori noted the silent exchange between them.  “What do you think the chances are that traitor Coop sends somebody after us?”

“I’m not worried about him,” Kosk said.  “Men like him are happy to create trouble for someone else, as long as their hands don’t have to get dirty.  I’m sure he’s got a nice little bolt-hole somewhere, where he’ll hide nice and cozy until things cool down a bit.  I’m thinking that mage is more of a problem.”

“Your friend didn’t know what he wanted?” Xeeta asked.

The dwarf shook his head.  “He wasn’t my friend, just another idiot who got in over his head.”

“You should have brought us with you,” Quellan said.  “We could have helped to apprehend the bandits, turn them over to the local authorities.”

“They were dealt with,” Kosk said, as much as he’d said on the topic back in Wildrush.

“You were saying, what you learned about the traitor,” Glori prodded.

“The man I talked to said that Coop sold the job as a bit of easy banditry, a quick strike, bunch of new arrivals with gold in their pockets, easy marks.”

“Pretty damned stupid,” Glori said.  “Given that we’d already beaten up those giants, and were on our way back from killing a chimera.”

“Yeah,” Kosk said.  “But these guys were desperate.  They didn’t know what they were in for.”

“And the mage?” Quellan asked.

“He only got a brief look at the man’s face, when they were introduced in town,” Kosk said.  “He kept it hidden under a cowl after that.  Said it wasn’t anybody he’d seen in Wildrush before.”

“So they tried to kill us on the word of some stranger,” Glori said.  “For the promise of some gold.”

“Men have killed for less,” Xeeta said.

“In that line of work, you learn not to ask too many questions,” Kosk said.  “We turned over the description and the names of the other men who ambushed us to the Governor.  Not sure what else you think we could have done.”

“If we’d had this guy in custody, we could have questioned him more,” Glori said.

“He told me everything he knew,” Kosk insisted.

“So you said,” Glori said.  “So we don’t know anything more than we knew before.  We don’t know who this mage is, what he wants, or even why he wants us dead.”

“If he was the same guy who was with those giants, it seems like he wanted to keep outsiders away from the Silverpeak Valley,” Quellan said.  “It could be that this is connected to the broader war, somehow.”

“Well, iIf they’re going to try anything else against Wildrush, they’ll just have to wait until we get back,” Glori said.

“Do you really think that Rodan is part of it?” Bredan suddenly asked.  They were his first words since they’d arrived in camp, and they all looked at him as he spoke them.  “That he’s working against us, against the people of Wildrush?”

“I don’t know,” Quellan said after a moment.  He glanced over at Xeeta.  “It’s an odd coincidence.  There wasn’t anyone else who knew where we would be, and when.”

“Unless one of the miners set us up,” Glori pointed out.

“I find it difficult to believe that those beetles were in on some bloody plot,” Kosk said.  “As for that ranger, he wasn’t what he said he was.  That we know for a fact.”

Glori and Quellan looked at Xeeta, who stared into the fire for a long moment before speaking.  “And he’s a tiefling,” she said.

“That isn’t what I meant, girl,” the dwarf growled.

“No.  But it doesn’t matter.  If you didn’t think it, then you’re bigger fools than I thought.”

“Xeeta,” Quellan said.

“No, don’t say it,” Xeeta said.  “There’s a reason why people don’t trust my kind.  It’s not just an unfortunate stereotype.  I know you didn’t trust me at first, and you were smart not to do so.”

“Trust works both ways,” Kosk said.  “If you hadn’t been in your true form when we found you in those kobold caves, would you have told us what you were?”

“No,” Xeeta said at once.  “And you’re right.  But the lessons I learned about trust were hard-won.  It took me as long as it did to trust you as it did for you to trust me.  Assuming you do.”

“Of course we do, Xeeta,” Quellan said.  “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“I know, and I know you understand better than most, Quellan,” she said.  She looked at Bredan.  “But I need you to understand.”

“Rodan risked his life to help us, to help the people of Wildrush,” Bredan said.  “He told me about his past… your past.  About how you, both of you, were abused by that cult in Li Syval.  The things they did to you… what they did to make you what you were.  But you escaped, you changed.  Maybe he did too.”

“Maybe he did,” Xeeta said.  “But all I can remember is how he left us to die.”

She saw the change in his expression, and her lips twisted.  “So.  He didn’t tell you that part, did he?  When we finally made our desperate effort to get away, several of us were trapped by the fighting.  I saw Rodan.  He could have helped us, even a small distraction could have helped us get clear.  But that would have put himself at risk.  He not only left us, he let _us_ serve as a distraction to help him get away.  The others that were with me, they were all killed.  I was taken.  They hurt me.  It was only the blindest luck that let me get away before they could do any more.  So feel pity for him, Bredan.  It testifies to your good heart that you do.  But just be certain that he deserves your pity.”

She got up and stalked out of the camp.  Glori started to rise, but Kosk said, “Let her go.”

“There are times when I have to remember how lucky I have been,” Quellan said softly.

“We’re all lucky to have each other,” Glori said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 125

The adventurers got an early start the next morning, resuming their journey south through the densely wooded floor of the valley.  The forest remained almost preternaturally silent, even the wind growing calm until they could almost hear the pounding of the blood rushing through their bodies.  The canopy was thick enough overhead that there wasn’t much undergrowth, but the land was rugged enough that they made only a slow but steady progress as the day advanced.

They paused for a brief lunch from their stores, as none of them really had the skill to successfully forage for fresher fare.  Bredan’s uncle had taught him how to hunt, and how to identify edible foods in the hills around Crosspath, but his attention remained focus on the journey, and their destination.  The others would occasionally glance over to see his gazed fixed on a distant point to the south.  No matter how their path twisted and turned to negotiate obstacles, his attention always remained on that same spot.

They had walked for maybe two more hours since their break when the ground began to rise ahead of them.  The forest thinned as the terrain grew rockier, and they could see the stark outlines of steep cliffs rising ahead.

“We’re running out of room,” Glori said.  She glanced over at Bredan, but he looked no less determined, his focus now on a spot slightly east of due south.

They came to a stream that gurgled over bare rock as it made its way down into the valley.  They forded it without difficulty, and entered another stand of trees that extended almost to the base of another cliff that grew steadily closer.

Finally, they emerged from the wood to find a rocky ravine spreading out in front of them.  A crumbling slope descended into it.  The depression extended for a few hundred paces before ending abruptly at the sheer cliff they’d spotted earlier.  Tangles of growth sprouted up here or there when there was enough soil to support them, though none of them were thick enough to offer a serious barrier.

But the dominant feature of the ravine was a massive mound of rock that rose up from the far side of the ravine, near the base of the cliff.  Pillars of stone rose in front of it, flanking a cleft that penetrated into the interior.  From their current vantage, it wasn’t clear what waited for them inside that space, but it was too obvious to be anything but what they were looking for.

“This is the place,” Bredan said, putting their thoughts into words.

“There’s a strange presence here,” Xeeta said, rubbing her arms as she looked around.  “I feel as though something is watching us.”

“Any idea of what we’ll find in there?” Glori asked, looking at Bredan.  “Bredan?”

He started and looked at her as if surprised to see her.  “I don’t know,” he said.

“Only one way to find out,” Kosk said.  “Let’s go.”

With that the dwarf started forward, leading them down into the ravine.

The mound appeared even larger as they approached it, easily twice the size of the inn back in Wildrush.  The cleft that had appeared narrow from the edge of the ravine was now wide enough to easily allow several of them to enter side-by-side without feeling crowded.  They could see that it widened into a small clearing once past the entry, and as they got closer they could see what looked like a dark cave mouth within.

“I guess that’s our destination,” Glori commented.  None of the others said anything; they were all busy looking around or touching their weapons.  All of them could feel the vague sense of disquiet that Xeeta had commented on earlier.

Kosk paused as he neared the closest of the pillars that flanked the entry.  They all appeared to be natural, with none of the markings that would have indicated that they had been placed here deliberately.  However, it was obvious now that what had looked like a cave earlier was a worked passage, the narrow opening flanked by huge blocks of rough-hewn stone.

“We’re a long way from anything,” Glori said.  “I wonder who built this?”

“It’s not the first such place we’ve encountered in our travels,” Quellan said.

“Yeah,” Glori said.  “Seems to be one every time we turn around, almost.”

“We need to go inside,” Bredan said.  He started forward, but stopped when Kosk shot an arm out in front of him.

“Better let me go first,” the dwarf said.  “I don’t trust anything about this place.”

The others followed after him, carefully examining every shadow and every crevice that came into view as they approached.  The interior of the cleft was studded with massive boulders, leaving plenty of potential hiding places for an ambush or a trap.

But when the trap was sprung, it wasn’t anything hiding _behind_ the boulders.

A deep rumble was all the warning that they got before one of the boulders rose up and shifted toward them.  Arms and legs erupted from its sides, one of the former slamming down toward Kosk even as it took shape.  The dwarf planted the end of his staff and used it to push off, springing backwards so quickly that he almost collided into Bredan.

“What the…” Glori began, but before she could finish she was overwhelmed by the sound of the animated boulder striking the ground where Kosk has been standing.  The ground shook from the impact, and dust flew up in a plume around its misshapen fist.  It was joined by a second entity a moment later, which stepped out from the opposite side of the canyon to face them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 126

Glori had an arrow out and fitted to her bowstring before the reverberations of the creature’s strike stopped echoing off the canyon walls, but she held her shot, perhaps doubting whether the mundane missile would have any effect against these beings.  The two creatures blocked their way forward, but made no move to pursue them back into the narrower space of the cleft.  “Elementals?” she asked.

“I am not certain,” Xeeta said.  “I sense no animating intelligence within them.  Guardians, perhaps.”

“Well, I’m not afraid of a couple of hunks of rock,” Kosk said.  He started to take a step forward before Quellan grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Wait,” the cleric said.  “They are not attacking.  Maybe their mandate is only to prevent entry.”

“I’m not sure how that changes our situation,” Kosk said.  He looked over at Bredan.  The young fighter had drawn his sword, but he kept the blade low as he took a step toward the stone guardians.

“Bredan, careful,” Glori said.

Bredan acknowledged her with a nod, but continued to slide forward until he was directly in front of the two boulder-creatures.  Neither had moved, but there was still something malevolent in their sheer size and obvious strength.

“I’m sorry,” Bredan said.  “I have to pass.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Kosk asked, but desisted at a shushing gesture from Glori.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Bredan said, staring up at the blank faces of the guardians.  “I was called to this place.”

“Look!” Glori hissed, but none of them could have missed the form that emerged from the far wall of the canyon, right next to the dark passageway that led into the mound.  At first glance it resembled the animated boulders, but as it took on a humanoid shape and stepped forward they could see a pair of softly glowing points and other features that approximately resembled a face.

“Okay, now that one has an animating intelligence,” Xeeta said.

“What is it?” Glori asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  “Some kind of elemental creature.”

“Are we going to have to kill it?” Kosk asked.

“Bredan seems to know something about this place,” Quellan said.  “I suggest we follow his lead… but be ready.”

“Yeah, I’ll scrape him up off the ground when those things stomp him,” Kosk said, but he held his ground as the elemental being came forward to confront Bredan.  Its animated servants stepped back to make room for it as it approached, but were still within easy reach of the human warrior.

The thing stopped right in front of Bredan, close enough that he had to crane his head up to look it in the “face”.  They stood like that for a full minute, gazing at each other in silence, while the rest of the group watched tensely.

Finally, the stone creature tilted slowly, lowering one massive arm.  It touched Bredan’s sword, and lifted it until the blade was between them.  The afternoon sunlight failed to reach all of the way down to the bottom of the canyon, but for a moment the steel almost seemed to glow.

Then the creature leaned forward.  Bredan started to draw back, reflexively pulling on the sword, but the thing still had its hand under it and it adjusted its grip so he couldn’t get free.  The tip of the sword touched its chest and then slid effortlessly into the solid mass of its body.  Bredan’s eyes widened as the stone creature came apart, crumbling into rubble.  The sword came down again as its body disintegrated around the weapon in a loud clatter of falling stone.  The animated boulders quickly followed, until there was nothing left except for three uneven mounds of debris.

The others entered the canyon behind Bredan, carefully moving around the mounds of rubble.  “What was that all about?” Glori asked.

Bredan turned and looked at her.  “You keep asking me, like I know what’s going on.”

“They seemed willing to let you pass,” Kosk said.  “If the rest of the defenses of this place are equally accommodating, then this will be easier than I thought.”

“Do you think that’s likely?” Glori asked.

“No,” the dwarf said.

“We should get out of the open,” Xeeta said.  “I still sense something… not right.”

They made their way to the rectangular tunnel mouth.  It was dark inside, but a thick, cloying odor greeted them as they approached.

“Gah, smells like something died,” Glori said.

“Soemthing did,” Kosk said.

Quellan paused to summon _light_, fixing it to the tip of his mace.  The magical glow pushed back the darkness and revealed a messy corpse lying a short distance within the passage.  There wasn’t much left of it, just some bloodstained scraps of fur and what might have been pieces of clothing.

“Wait here,” Kosk said.  He moved warily into the passage, tapping the walls and floor with his staff, examining every inch of the ancient stonework before sliding his feet forward.  He crouched over the remains, and after a moment turned with something in his hand.

“Hand axe,” he said.  “Goblin make.”

“Goblins,” the others said together, staring at each other in surprise.

“So they _are_ here,” Glori said.

“One goblin does not an army make,” Quellan said.

“I’d say this was once a worg,” Kosk said, poking at the furry remnants with the tip of his staff.

“Do you know what killed them?” Xeeta asked.

“I’d say being crushed,” Kosk replied.  He looked up at the ceiling, then back at them.  “Sure you want to do this?”

He was looking at Bredan, and after a moment the young warrior nodded.  “There’s something here, something important.”

Kosk nodded.  “Step exactly where I step, touch only what I touch.”

The dwarf led them forward into the passage.  Bredan followed a few steps behind him, then Glori, Quellan, and finally Xeeta bringing up the rear.  The cleric held up his mace for the others’ benefit, though there wasn’t much to see except for bare stone blocks, joined together so that the seams were barely visible.  The corridor ran straight into the interior of the mound for as far as they could see.

With Kosk moving so slowly, the others had to wait for him to clear the route ahead before they could advance.  Quellan took advantage of the delay to turn to Glori.  “I’d like you to wear the ring again,” he said.  He started to reach for his pouch, but she stopped him with a hand on his.

“Not this time,” she said.  “I understood the logic of it, before, even though I still disagree with you not telling me about the nature of the _Warding Bond._  But here… we’re entering another ancient shrine, one that we know nothing about.  You’re the priest of knowledge, and you know more about these kinds of places than any of us.”  She smiled at him.  “This might be one of the rare instances when you’re more important to the group than me.”

He smiled back at her, and nodded.

“I think he’s ready,” Bredan said to them, drawing their attention back to the passage.  Kosk had moved about ten steps ahead, and was gesturing for them to follow.  One by one they made their way toward him.

Xeeta was just stepping over the mangled remains of the goblin and its steed when she heard something behind her.  Turning back toward the canyon, she felt the stone settle slightly as her foot settled on it.

There was a loud rumbling directly above her.  She didn’t hesitate, but desperately threw herself forward.  Quellan caught her and dragged her out of the way just as a massive slab of stone came crashing down from above, sealing the passage behind them.  For a moment she could only stare at the solid block that was close enough for her to touch without extending her arm.

“Thanks,” she said to the half-orc.

“That… was close,” Glori said.

“That was careless,” Kosk said.  “Did you not listen to me, earlier?”

“Give her a break,” Glori said.  “Nobody got hurt.”

“This time,” the dwarf said.  “And now our way out is blocked.”

“The trap reset before,” Quellan said.  “There’s no sense in lamenting things that we cannot change.  We still have one way to go: forward.”

“All right,” Kosk said.  “Stay alert this time.”

They resumed their way forward, but Kosk had only covered another fifteen steps when he stopped and raised his hand.  “There’s something up ahead, a room, I think.”

Still checking every inch of the passage, the monk crept forward, the others following until the light coming from Quellan’s mace spilled out into a larger space ahead.  He paused at the entrance to the room, crouching so that the others could see past him into the interior space.

The light revealed an octagonal vault, roughly twenty-five feet across.  Its walls were the same unmarked blocks that made up the passage, but at the ceiling they gave way to a curving dome that reached its apex at least fifteen feet above the floor.  There was one other exit immediately visible, an identical-looking passage in the wall to their left.

But the most striking feature of the room was directly ahead.

A massive stone seat rose against the far wall, facing toward them.  It was occupied by a skeletal figure, clad in the remnants of what might have once been ceremonial robes.  Wisps of that fabric still clung to its skull, which lay canted against one of the tall stone posts that flanked the back of the throne.  A metal object, possibly a scepter or rod of some sort, lay tucked between one arm and its body.

“That does not look promising,” Glori said.

“Let’s wait for trouble to appear before we go asking for it,” Kosk growled.  Still probing with his staff, he edged forward into the room.  But he’d managed just a few steps when there was a sound in response, a low chuckle that seemed to come from thin air.

“Oh, you had to say it,” Bredan said.  He unbuckled his baldric and snapped his sword into his hand as he stepped into the room, moving to the side to give the others room to come in.  Glori followed with an arrow fitted to her bowstring, Quellan in her shadow with his shield on his left arm and his mace raised high in his right.

None of them had forgotten the skeletal guardian, so they were not unduly surprised when its skull creaked upright, the linen scraps draped over it disintegrating as it moved.  But none of them could have expected what happened next, as the skull suddenly burst into green flames that formed a bright halo around it.  Within that emerald radiance, two points of bright red materialized within the eye sockets of the skull, piercing them with a malevolent stare.

“Oh, damn it, damn it,” Glori said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 127

Glori followed her curse with action, raising her bow and sighting in quickly before releasing her shot.  The arrow lanced across the vault and caromed off the top of the skull, briefly flashing as the flames surrounding it vaporized the feathers on its end.

Kosk was already moving forward, his staff coming up into a ready position, but before he could get close enough to attack the undead guardian responded to the attack.  The skull detached from the skeletal remnants and rose into the air, leaving behind a flickering trail of green flames behind it.  It quickly rose out of their reach, ascending into the dome above them.  The flames wreathing it suddenly intensified, the halo spreading until the outline of the skull was just a vague blur within them.

“Bloody hell!” the dwarf cursed in frustration as his foe evaded him.

Quellan and Xeeta stepped into the room together, the cleric stepping to one side of the entry while the tiefling slid to the other.  Xeeta raised her rod and conjured a series of flame blasts that lashed up at the floating skull.  The first two _scorching rays_ passed harmlessly through its halo, impacting the stone of the dome without effect, but the last found its target, scoring a direct hit.  But when the flames faded, the skull continued on its drifting course unharmed.

“It’s immune to fire,” she reported, stating the obvious.

“Let’s see if it can withstand divine energy,” Quellan said.  He lifted his holy symbol and invoked his patron god.  The sigil glowed, and the cleric’s voice deepened with the thrum of power as he said, “By the power of Hosrenu, I command you to be gone from this place, dark spirit!”

For a moment the fiery nimbus flickered, and the companions held their collective breaths.  But it was the priest’s radiance that faltered first, and the skull continued its weaving path unhindered as another mocking laugh echoed through the air.

Kosk snarled a curse in response, and turned toward his companions.  “Bredan!  A boost!”

The young warrior had stood there with his sword still sheathed while his companions attacked, uncertain of what to do.  He still had his crossbow, but doubted that he’d have any more luck with it than Glori had.  But as the dwarf charged toward him he grasped his sword in both hands, one on the hilt and the other halfway down the scabbard.  When Kosk leaped he absorbed the sudden weight and then thrust upward with all his strength, letting out a growl of effort as he did so.  The monk shot up toward the ceiling.  The skull was floating in the other direction, but as he neared the rim of the dome Kosk kicked off and spun toward it, lashing out with his staff right at the core of the burning field of energy that surrounded it.  For a moment it looked like his strike was perfect, but then it rebounded from a shimmering barrier that surrounded its form.

“It’s got a _shield_!” Glori said.

“Layered defenses,” Xeeta said.  “This is no mundane guardian.”

His momentum spent, gravity inevitably took hold and Kosk fell.  He lashed out with a hand as he dropped, but the skull easily avoided the strike.  The dwarf dropped into a roll as he hit the floor, absorbing most of the force of the landing.

Glori fired another arrow at it, but this one had even less effect than the first, passing through the halo of flames before shattering on the hard stone of the dome.  “What do we do?” she yelled as she reached for another arrow.

“I’m happy to listen to ideas!” Bredan shouted back.  His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, and he felt something stir, either in the blade or in himself, he wasn’t certain.  But he had no idea what the magic was, or how it could help him against this foe.

Before he had a chance to figure it out, however, the flameskull responded.  The skull stopped its weaving and tilted so that the glowing points of its eyes were visible through the burning haze of its _blur_ spell.  Its jaw dropped open, and it spat out a tiny bulb of fire that pulsed as it dropped toward the floor and its foes.

Xeeta’s eyes widened in recognition.  “Take cover!” she shouted as she dove toward the passage where they’d entered.  But there was nowhere for the rest of them to hide before the shining bead stopped at eye-level and exploded into a _fireball_.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 128

All Bredan could do was close his eyes and protect his face with one arm before the _fireball_ hit.  Flames filled the air around him, and he bit off a scream as they scorched his exposed flesh.  He staggered a step back, resisting the instinct to take a breath that he knew would sear his lungs.

The blast was instantaneous, but it felt like an eternity before he could open his eyes and breathe again.  The first breath still burned in his chest and set off a spell of coughing as he looked around.  The skeletal remains in the stone throne had caught fire and had added a lurid glow to the radiance cast by Quellan’s mace.  The half-orc had caught the full force of the blast and looked like only sheer will was keeping him upright; the skin of his face was charred and blackened.  He’d moved to shelter Glori, who looked to be singed but intact.  Kosk had also avoided the worst of it by darting into the meager cover offered by the other passage.

Looking up, Bredan saw the skull, still floating above them, thus far barely touched by anything they had managed to unleash at it.  And its first attack had almost destroyed them.

The part of his mind that was still capable of coherent thought was yelling at him to flee, but the way behind was blocked and the far passage offered only the promise of worse dangers ahead.  Instead Bredan let out a feral roar and drew his sword, tossing the scorched leather scabbard aside.  He felt the stirring of magic he’d felt earlier and embraced it.  He felt a surge of energy fill his body, gathering in the muscles of his legs.  He lifted his sword and charged forward several steps before leaping straight up into the air.  That coherent bit acknowledged that he had easily cleared his own height as he rose toward the dome above, but the rest of him was already sighting in on his target.

The skull started to evade, but Bredan’s sword gave him the advantage of reach, and he took full advantage of it.  The undead caster had refreshed its _shield_, but Bredan expected the resistance and drove through it.  The tip of the blade drove into the burning aura and clipped something hard, and then the two were flying apart, the skull bouncing off the stone edge of the dome while the warrior dropped back to the floor of the vault.

Glori was looking at him with her jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered.  “Keep pressing it!” she yelled, firing another arrow that made it past the _shield_ only to get lost within the _blurring_ effect of its fiery halo.  Quellan was wavering, but he raised his holy symbol again and fired off a _guiding bolt_ that slammed into its _shield_ but failed to penetrate, briefly surrounding the thing with a flashy display of conflicting magics.  The skull, emerging from that bright but harmless clash with a crack just visible over one eye socket, fixed its attention on Bredan as it gathered its magic for another assault.

But before it could strike, Kosk emerged from the passage where he’d taken shelter from the _fireball_.  The dwarf ran at a full charge, not directly at the skull, but at the far wall of the chamber.  He kept on running as he reached it, using his momentum to carry him two strides up the sheer stone surface before he kicked off into another leap.  The skull tried to evade, but Kosk thrust his staff forward like a spear, trying to penetrate its defenses.  The _shield_ flared as he struck, deflecting the blow, but he used the force of the impact to spin himself around, lashing out with one foot that managed to tear through the barrier weakened by his strike.  It looked to Bredan like it would hit, but the blow only caught empty flames, and Kosk dropped to the ground without having hurt it at all for all his efforts.

Even as he touched down, the skull unleashed another counter attack.  It spun in mid-air, and Bredan barely had time to register that its fiery eyes were fixed on him before a stream of flames blasted down toward him.  He reacted reflexively, bringing his sword up to parry, and while the steel was of no use against the assault the translucent _shield_ that formed over it repelled the burning streak.

“Yes, Bredan!” Glori yelled.

But the bard’s cheer hadn’t finished echoing off the walls of the vault when the flameskull showed it wasn’t finished.  Even as Kosk rolled back to his feet again it spun to track him.  Quellan saw it and warned, “Kosk, look out!”

The dwarf reacted immediately, launching into another roll.  He nearly got clear, but the trailing edge of the flame burst clipped him in the shoulder, igniting his robe.  Kosk barely slowed, tearing the burning garment off and leaving him clad only in a breechclout and sandals.

“It’s too strong,” Glori said, as another arrow missed its target.  “What can we do?”

“No mortal caster could maintain this level of energy output for long,” Xeeta said.  She had her rod at the ready but held onto her magic, which had thus far proven ineffective against the undead entity.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t a mortal caster,” Glori said.

“All we can do is hope to wear it down,” the tiefling said in response.

“Bredan managed to hit it,” Glori said.  “Bredan, can you do that jumping thing again?”

Bredan could still feel the magic pouring through his body, but he’d held off on another leap.  Having seen and felt the effects of its protective _shield_ and obscuring _blur_, he knew that his first hit had been blind luck.  Even as Glori called to him he was trying something else, concentrating on the skull, trying to find a way to pierce its confounding sorcery.  He could feel the hilt of his sword growing warm in his hand.  He still had no idea what exactly he was doing, but he let himself follow his instinct, to let the magic flow freely through him.

“Bredan?” Glori repeated.  Her friend didn’t respond, and for a moment she worried that he’d been ensnared by some kind of mental magic.  But before she could do anything else to intervene Xeeta shouted a warning.

“It’s attacking again!”

Glori looked up as the skull reached the far side of the dome and spun to face them again.  The nimbus of fire around it coalesced around it until it formed a ball the size of an apple within its jaws.  Once again it spat out its prize, and Glori tensed reflexively in anticipation of another blast.  But this time the ball didn’t explode.  Instead, it swelled in size as it dropped, until it hit the ground the size of a wagon wheel.  The _flaming sphere_ bounced lightly and started rolling across the room toward them.

Glori quickly gauged its target.  “Bredan look out!” she warned.  But caught in whatever reverie held him, he didn’t react.

She and Quellan both started forward, but Xeeta beat them to it.  She leapt in front of Bredan and jammed her rod into the stone floor in front of her.  The rolling sphere struck it and rebounded.  The sorceress gritted her teeth as the flames splashed around her, searing her even through her natural resistance.  But the contact only lasted a moment before the sphere was diverted.  It quickly started to roll back around for another run, but she’d diverted it for a few precious moments.

Kosk was already running back toward them.  Seeing Bredan’s distraction, he yelled, “Quellan!”  The cleric had fortified himself with a _cure wounds_ spell, and as he turned around he immediately saw what the dwarf had in mind.  He dropped to one knee, raising his shield.

Repeating the trick he’d done with Bredan earlier, Kosk used the cleric as a springboard for another leap.  Quellan gave him even more of a boost than the smith had, and he flew up to where the skull waited.  Summoning the sphere had cost it the wreath of flames that had protected it earlier, but as the monk swung his staff he once again hit the translucent barrier of its _shield_.  But this time the dwarf was ready for it.  As the skull moved to set up another attack he bounced off the far side of the dome and rebounded.  The skull realized it had been tricked and started to turn back toward him, but before it could Kosk let out a sharp sound and drove his palm down into its forehead.  As his hand struck the _shield_ there was a flash of light followed by an impact that drove the skull down and back.  It dropped halfway down to the floor, and for a moment the flames that still glowed within it flickered.  The _flaming sphere_ disappeared.

As he fell, Kosk yelled, “It’s all yours, boy!”

Almost if he’d been waiting for those words, Bredan’s head came up.  The others started in surprise as they saw a soft glow shining within his eyes.  He leapt, and once more he seemed to rise almost effortlessly into the air.  As he started to come back down he brought his sword down in a glittering arc that smashed into the skull, shattering it into a thousand pieces.  They skittered into every corner of the room as Bredan landed, falling into a crouch with the sword held parallel to the ground.

“Now _that_, that was cool,” Glori said.


----------



## carborundum

> “Now _that_, that was cool,”




You're not kidding! 

The shield spell seems to be more powerful in 5e! Do you still play the combats out before writing?

( I looked up the flame skull. It's AC doesn't seem anywhere near as high as I'd expected from the description, but we still play 3.5 )


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> You're not kidding!
> 
> The shield spell seems to be more powerful in 5e! Do you still play the combats out before writing?
> 
> ( I looked up the flame skull. It's AC doesn't seem anywhere near as high as I'd expected from the description, but we still play 3.5 )



I don't roll dice, but this fight in particular I sketched out round-by-round in my notes because of all of the spells and the complications added by the layout of the room (which allowed the skull to remain out of melee range). I agree that shield is quite potent in the new rules since it's essentially a free cast as a reaction, and combined with blur makes a potent defensive combination. 

* * * 

Chapter 129

In the immediate aftermath of the battle, Glori and Quellan used their magic to treat the worst of their injuries.

“We’re all pretty beat up,” Kosk said.  Without his robe, the others could see the taut lines of his body and the many scars he bore.  “Might be a good idea to take a brief rest, use that ritual you have to restore us.”

“We can’t stay here,” Quellan said.

“What do you mean?” Glori asked.

“That thing… I know what it was,” Quellan said.  “It was a flameskull, an undead guardian created from the corpse of a wizard.”

“That’s why it could cast spells,” Xeeta said.  “It was drawing from the knowledge it possessed in life.”

“Why would anyone agree to do such a thing?” Bredan asked.  “To be transformed so?”

“I think he meant that the wizard was already dead,” Glori said.  “Or at least, that it wasn’t a voluntary thing.”

“I still don’t see what that has to do with us staying here,” Kosk said.

“The account I read,” Quellan said, “it didn’t go into much detail, but one point that was very clear was that the entity can reconstitute after it has been destroyed.”

They all looked around nervously at that.  The fragments of the skull were scattered around the room, none of them larger than a gold piece.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kosk said.

“How long does it take to return?” Xeeta asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.

“How do you destroy it permanently?” Bredan asked.

“Holy water,” Quellan said.  “Or a ritual to remove the curse that binds it to unlife.”

“Let me guess, we don’t have either of those things,” Xeeta said.

“So you’re telling me that we’re going to have to tussle with that bastard again on our way out of here?” Kosk asked.

“That assumes that we can even go back this way,” Glori said.  “We don’t know how long it takes the trap blocking the entrance to reset.”  She pointed back toward the entrance corridor, which remained dark and silent.

“All right, we’d better get moving, then,” Kosk said.  He started to turn toward the far corridor, but Glori interrupted him.  “Ah… aren’t you forgetting something?”

The dwarf stopped and looked at her.  “What?”

Glori gestured to his bare frame.  “Ahem.”

Kosk shook his head.  “I’m fine.”

“Well, we’re not.”  The bard looked over at Xeeta.  “I’m going to go ahead on behalf of the female membership in our group and insist on a minimal dress code for this expedition.”

Bredan snorted, and Quellan smiled as he said, “I think I have an extra shirt in my pack.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Kosk said, but when Quellan produced the shirt he pulled it on.  It hung on him even more loosely than his robe had, but it seemed to provide enough coverage to suit Glori.  Shaking his head, he tore a strip off the bottom and used it to fashion an impromptu belt.

While that was going on, Xeeta had gone over to the throne.  The flames had died out as the desiccated remains of the skeleton had been consumed, but the rod they’d seen earlier was still there, propped against the arm of the stone chair.  She drew it out carefully and brushed off some of the soot covering it.  It was about the length of her forearm, made of bronze that was discolored with age.  Runes etched into the metal were just visible along its length.

“What’s that?” Bredan asked.

Xeeta held it up to catch the light from Quellan’s mace.  “I’m not certain.  I don’t sense any active properties of arcana from it, but it may be masked.  It may just be an arcane focus, like my rod.  Any objections to me keeping it for now?”

“As long as you keep it while we’re leaving,” Kosk said.  He looked a bit ridiculous with the oversized shirt trailing past his knees, but he was able to maintain a certain gravitas as he led them down the other passage, still checking carefully for traps or other concealed hazards.

The corridor started out much like the first, but quickly made a sharp right after about twenty feet.  As they rounded the corner they could see that the passage widened slightly into a broad niche before it ended in a stone wall that was dominated by an odd doorway.

“Huh, that’s…” Glori began.

“Don’t say it,” Bredan warned.

She shot him a wry look.  “I was just going to say that it looks weird.”

The ‘weird’ door was set in a ring of stone blocks that protruded slightly from the surrounding wall.  It was a disk of stone a few shades darker than the rest of the construction, a deep gray that approached black.  The disk was a full six feet across, and carved into the exaggerated features of a misshapen face.  The blank eyes of the relief seemed to watch them as they approached.

“There are no hinges,” Glori noted.

“Maybe it rolls to the side?” Bredan suggested.

“That would be too easy, I think,” the bard replied.

Kosk examined the door and its lintel carefully before tapping it with his staff.  “Solid,” he said.  “Going to be heavy.”

“You think it is a straight lift?” Quellan asked.

“Only one way to find out,” the dwarf said.  He handed his staff back to Bredan and then probed at the carvings on the door before finding a good grip on the lower lip of the carving.  He tried to shift it to each side, and though his muscles bulged through his new shirt his efforts had no apparent effect.

“It looks like it’s in a channel that’s straight up and down,” Kosk reported.

“We’ll have to try it together,” Bredan said.  “No way we’ll all fit, though.”

“Kosk in the middle, Bredan and I to each side,” Quellan suggested.

The men put their weapons away and stepped up to the slab.  The features carved into it were just prominent enough for them to get a good grip, the dwarf crouched between the two larger men.

“All right, on three,” Quellan said.  “One, two, three!”

The three men grunted with effort as they strained at the door.  The slab shifted slightly, suggesting that it could at least be moved, but before they could lift it any higher Bredan’s left hand slipped and it settled back into place.

“That’s not going to be easy,” Quellan said.

“Look at it this way,” Glori said.  “At least the skull’s not going to be able to open it.”

“Unless it knows a magic word that just causes it to pop open,” Bredan said.

“Can we do less chatter about worst-case scenarios and just lift the bloody slab?” Kosk asked.

The three men got back into position.  Bredan pulled off his gloves and tucked them into his belt, and then laid his sword in its scabbard against the wall next to the door.

Glori began strumming her lute, repeating a simple rhythm that evoked a drum being struck.  Bredan shot her a stern look, thinking maybe that she was mocking them, but at a grunt from Kosk he turned back to the door.

Once again, the three of them bent their will and their collective strength to the slab.  The stone disk moved, reluctantly, scraping loudly against the channels in which it rested.  It rose an inch into the air, and then two, finally revealing a narrow crack underneath it as it cleared the frame of the door.

“Keep pushing!” Kosk growled.

Glori intensified the pace of her playing.  The music swirled around them, driving the men.  Xeeta made a gesture and a softly glowing _mage hand_ appeared near the top of the door, adding a small increment of lift to the effort.

The men heaved again, and the door rose another two inches.  “We can put something under it,” Bredan gasped out.

“We can’t risk it getting wedged!” Kosk said, grunting with effort.  “Keep pushing!  Push, damn you, push!”

The door rose another inch.  Quellan dropped one hand and grabbed hold of it from below, risking his fingers to get a better hold.  He leaned in and let out a feral sound from deep within, straining to push the door higher.

“That’s it!” Glori yelled, her fingers pounding the strings of her lyre.  “You’re doing it!”

The door rose in short jerks.  When it got high enough Kosk got under it, pushing directly at it from below.  Bredan took over his grip on the stone mouth.  The dark opening under the door continued to expand, revealing another dark chamber beyond.

“Glori!” Quellan said.  “The mace!”

The bard responded immediately, grabbing the weapon from Quellan’s belt and thrusting it into the widening gap.  It revealed a small room, maybe twenty feet square, devoid of any complex features or obvious threats.

“Clear!” she said.

“Go through!” Bredan said.  “You and Xeeta!”

The two women complied, squeezing between him and Kosk.  Xeeta brought Bredan’s sword with her.

“You next,” Quellan said to Kosk.  The half-orc shifted so that he was under the door, the curved stone resting on his shoulder.

“Don’t let it slide an inch, or it’ll crush you,” the dwarf warned.  He quickly spun to the other side of the door while maintaining his pressure on it from below.

“Noted,” Quellan said.  “Bredan, move to the other side.”

“Got it,” the fighter said.  Keeping his hands on the door, he duplicated Kosk’s move.  “There are no carvings on this side,” he said.  “We won’t be able to keep it up for long.”

“Understood,” Quellan said.

“Ready when you are,” Kosk said.

“Now!”

Kosk and Bredan gave a final heave, and Quellan ducked under the door.  As he cleared it the slab came slamming down.  The impact seemed to shake the room, but that might have just been the intensity of the sound on their senses.

“They probably heard that back in Wildrush,” Glori said.

Kosk ran a hand over the interior face of the slab, which was completely smooth.  “Well, we’re not heading back this way anytime soon.  So, where are we?”


----------



## Lazybones

We can have Monday cliffhangers too!

* * * 

Chapter 130

The room was slightly smaller than the vault where they’d confronted the flameskull, a bare cube with few distinguishing features.  The remains of what might have been a stone font jutted from one wall, now cracked and dry.  There was one other exit, an uneven slit in the opposite corner that led to another dark passage.  An examination in that direction revealed a set of steps that descended in a gentle curve to a subterranean level of the complex.

Kosk licked his finger and held it in front of the opening.  “Air moving,” he said.

“Think there might be another way out down there?” Glori asked.

“To save him the trouble of saying it, there’s only one way to find out,” Bredan said.

“Aye, but we’re in no shape for another fight,” Kosk said.  “Time to make with the healing, I think.”

That was too good a suggestion to argue, so they settled down for a short rest.  Kosk folded his legs under him and sat down so that a wall was at his back and the exit was right in front of him.  Quellan unfolded his prayer mat from his pack and spread it out.  He knelt and placed his mace and holy symbol on the fabric in front of him, then closed his eyes and began the soft chants of his _prayer of healing_.

Glori began playing a quiet tune on her lyre.  The notes filled the chamber, evoking a place less stark and hostile than the barren interior of the shrine.  Bredan drank deeply from his waterskin, then dribbled some water on a rag and used it to clean some of the soot from his face.  He grimaced as he touched the fresh burns that hadn’t been fully eased by Glori’s _cure wounds_ magic.

“Are you okay?” Glori asked him.  She continued her melody, not bothering with her plectrum, instead flicking the strings lightly with her fingertips.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Rather not do that again.”

“Let’s hope that the skull was the worst of it.”

Xeeta came over to them.  “You invoked your magic again during that fight,” she said to Bredan.

He looked down at his blackened hands.  “Yeah.  I didn’t think, I just did it.”

“Perhaps what we do isn’t so dissimilar,” Xeeta said.  “My own power is like a river that flows through me.  It can be… difficult to control.”

“It seems like it’s coming easier, when I need it to,” Bredan said.  “But it’s not something I can just do, like you both do.”  He held up his hand and made a vague somatic gesture, but nothing happened.

“It took me three years to learn how to control my gift,” Xeeta said.  “It was not an easy process.”

“I can’t imagine,” Glori said.  “My master… he wasn’t soft by any means, but he never struck me, or belittled me, or asked me to do anything that wasn’t in my own best interest.”

“You were fortunate,” Xeeta said.

“I, ah… excuse me a minute,” Bredan said.  He colored slightly as he got up and went to the furthest corner of the room, standing close against the wall.  Glori and Xeeta both chuckled as they saw what he was doing.

“I guess survival trumps modesty, in the dungeon,” Glori said.

“Ugh, now I have to go,” Xeeta said.

“You can have this corner,” Glori said as she got up.  “I’ll go bother our resident curmudgeon.”

Kosk barely flicked an eye her way as she crossed over to him and sat down, still strumming her lyre.  “I can stop if this bothers you,” she said.  “It’s just a habit I have.  Helps sooth my nerves to play.”

“I suppose the others can use some soothing after what we just went through,” he said.

“So.  Still don’t believe that what you do… this _ki_ business… that it isn’t magic?”

“What I do is based on careful training of the body and focused self-control,” he said.

“So you say, but I don’t think I could run straight up a wall, no matter how much I practiced.  Let alone punch through magical shields.”

“Most people have no idea what their bodies are capable of,” Kosk said.

“So can you punch through bricks and snap boards and stuff?” she said, winking to confirm she was teasing him.

“Perhaps, if there was need,” the dwarf said with a sigh.

“Cool,” she said.

“I need to meditate,” he said.  “Using my ‘magic’ is taxing.  It appears I will need to claim a spot quickly while there are still places free of puddles of piss.”

She snorted a laugh.  “Go ahead, I’ll keep guard.”  She shifted her melody into a tune that evoked a martial air.

“Play that any louder and you’ll draw unwanted attention,” Kosk said.  But she knew that as he went over to join Quellan he was making a gesture of trust that she would warn them if something did appear from below to threaten them.

But nothing stirred from the darkness below while they rested.  Quellan completed his ritual, and each of them felt their physical pains ease as the healing magic of his patron deity filled the room.  They took some of the food from their stores and ate, washing the cold provisions down with water taken from the many mountain streams that poured down into the valley.  Rodan had mentioned that there was a lake on the eastern edge of the valley, a long crescent that froze over during the winter months.  There were a lot of wonders to this place, Glori thought as she sat quietly and watched the darkness, strumming her lyre softly.

Their short rest extended out to over an hour, but finally they rose and gathered their things in preparation of resuming their explorations.  Quellan refreshed his _light_ spell, and with Kosk in the lead they started down the rough-hewn steps.

The stairs curved back in on themselves as they descended, and they’d completed at least one full circle by the time they reached the floor of another chamber.  This one had the appearance of a natural cavern, or at least it did until they got a good look at it.

“Wow,” Glori said.

The cavern looked as though it had been formed from two entirely different places that had been shoved rudely together.  To their left, the stone was a volcanic gray that was nearly black.  The surface was irregular, with shards of the stuff jutting out that looked sharp enough to cut flesh.  In the center of the wall, just visible at the edge of their light, there was a stone bowl the size of a bed, large enough that even Quellan could have fit within it comfortably.

The cavern to their right was a sharp contrast.  The stone there was smooth and pale, and studded with clear crystals that sparkled in the light from Quellan’s spell.  Instead of a stone bowl there was a depression on that side that held a pool full of crystal-clear water.

Where the two sides of the room met, roughly in the center of the floor, there was a jagged, meandering line of black stone, roughly half a step across.  The line extended almost to where the plain stone at the foot of the stairs transitioned to the two unique styles of this chamber.  The line split at that point, forming a decisive transition between where they stood and the cavern.

“Trap, guardian, or both, do you think?” Xeeta asked.

Kosk opened his mouth, but Glori beat him to it.  “Don’t say it,” she said, shooting a quick look at Bredan.  “Let’s at least get a good look first, eh?”

She strummed her lyre and invoked her magic.  After a few moments a handful of softly glowing globes materialized in the air in front of her.  With a wave of her hand she directed them forward, the _dancing lights_ spreading out to illuminate both sides of the cavern.  They didn’t reveal anything new at first, but as they reached the far side of the vast chamber the companions could see an arch of plain gray stone, and within that a set of stone doors.  It was too far to make out any details; the far exit was over a hundred feet away, almost at the limit of Glori’s spell.  She brought the glowing spheres back, checking the ceiling on the way.  The cavern was maybe forty feet across at its widest point, the roof reaching a peak about twenty feet above.  The jagged black line that separated the two sides extended across the ceiling as well.

“Hmm, an elemental theme,” Glori commented as her lights returned to her and winked out.

“Do we want fire, which I assume the obsidian and the bowl symbolizes, or water?” Quellan asked.  “Bredan?”

The warrior shook his head.  “I have no idea.”

“Do we have to choose?” Glori asked.  “Maybe the line down the middle represents safety, sort of a balance between extremes sort of thing.”

“Or maybe stepping on the line triggers both traps,” Kosk said.

“All things being equal, I think I’d choose water,” Bredan said.  “I’ve already been roasted enough for one day.”

“Spoken like a man who’s never been on a ship on high seas,” Xeeta said.  “Water can be just as dangerous as fire, and I am at least resistant to the former.”

“I prefer being burned to sitting around listening to your chatter,” Kosk said, stepping forward onto the dark stone to the left of the black streak.

“Legendary monk patience,” Glori commented, but she tensed with the rest of them as they waited for something to happen.  But there was no reaction, even when Kosk took another few steps forward.

“Let’s stay together,” Quellan suggested.

“If there is a trap, it might be better for just one of us to spring it,” Xeeta pointed out.

“Perhaps, but I’d feel better if we didn’t get too spread out,” Quellan said.

One by one they followed the dwarf into the cavern, staying clear of the separating line and the pale stone on its other side.  Xeeta, again bringing up the rear, was the last to cross the divider.  Kosk, in the lead, was about twenty feet from the stone bowl when suddenly a massive column of flames erupted within it.

Heat rushed out from the huge pyre, and the companions reflexively retreated a step back from it.  None of them stepped onto the dark divider, but when Glori looked down at it she could see that pale glowing runes had appeared along its length, shining as if embedded _within_ the stone.  Glancing up, she could see that they extended all the way across the ceiling as well.

“Something’s happening!” she warned.

“No kidding!” Bredan said as he drew his sword.

“Retreat is blocked!” Xeeta shouted.  They turned to see that the opening that led to the staircase was now gone, replaced by a smooth stone wall.  The tiefling confirmed that it was real a moment later when she smacked it hard with her rod.

“Other side,” Kosk warned, his voice level and controlled, as if he’d expected something like this all along.  The companions looked over to see that the water in the pool had begun churning wildly, as if someone had thrust into it with a giant invisible oar.

“Oh, man,” Bredan said, just before the first guardian revealed itself.

The fire continued to surge, as if the bowl had been filled with logs soaked generously in oil.  But even as Bredan spoke the flames _moved_.  Tongues of fire became a tendril that extended out of the bowl, stretching until it touched the floor of the cavern.  The tendril thickened until it was strong enough to support the full weight of what was obviously a magical creature, an entity of pure energy.

None of them were surprised when the roiling waters of the pool responded in an echo to the fire-thing’s appearance.  The water, spinning until a whirlpool had started to form, suddenly rose up into a tidal wave that splashed up onto the floor of the cavern.  It clung together in defiance of the laws of physics and began to surge toward them.  On the far side of the room, the fire creature did the same.

“Elementals!” Quellan announced.  The look on his face was sufficient warning of the danger they faced, in case the obvious threat of the odd creatures was not enough.


----------



## Lazybones

Midweek cliffhanger! Everybody gets a cliffhanger!

* * * 

Chapter 131

Kosk didn’t wait for the fire elemental to come to him.  He charged forward and lunged in, sweeping at its leg with his staff.  The blow seemed to have little effect on it, though the staff came back charred black from the brief contact.  But the sheer intensity of the heat pulsing off the creature drove the dwarf back.  As he retreated the elemental swept out at him, forming a burning “arm” that slashed out and caught him on the side before he could get out of the way.  He stumbled back, his new tunic already starting to burn as the flames caught on the fabric.

“Kosk!” Quellan yelled, already charging to his friend’s aid.  But Kosk warned him back with a gesture.  “Get its attention!” he yelled.

Trusting the monk’s instincts, the cleric lifted his mace and shield and rushed to the attack.

Bredan was only a few steps behind Quellan, but before he could join the fight he was distracted by a disturbing sight: the water elemental rushing toward him.  He held back, looking down at the jagged line that partitioned the cavern in two.

But his assumption that the elemental wouldn’t cross that line almost cost him dearly.  The creature surged over the divider without difficulty, forming a long “arm” much as its burning cousin had a moment before.  Bredan started to dodge, but too late to avoid being clipped across the shoulder in an echo of the blow that Kosk had just absorbed.  For a moment he was stunned; the thing was made of free-flowing water, but its tendril had felt as solid as a battering ram!  The force of it knocked him back a step, and only the instincts of endless hours in the practice yard kept him from collapsing to the ground.

“Bredan, look out!” Glori warned.

Bredan shook himself out of his daze just in time to avoid a second pseudopod that slammed down into the ground right where he’d been standing.  He looked up to see the huge mass of the creature looming over him.  He looked at his sword—what could he hope to do against such a thing?

Quellan gritted his teeth as a wash of heat seared his still-tender skin.  He’d managed to hurt the fire elemental with his mace; apparently the stories he’d read about the efficacy of magical weapons against planar entities had been accurate.  But the fire elemental was quick to counter, driving him back with solid blows that seemed insubstantial until they hit.  He’d caught the first on his shield, surrounding him with a bright corona of flames that had looked impressive but had done no damage, but before he could react it had slashed under his guard with an impact he’d felt even through the layers of his armor.  He could feel the metal heating just from proximity to the thing, and hoped that whatever Kosk had in mind, he was going to do it soon.

He didn’t have long to wait.  As soon as the elemental was fully engaged with the cleric, the dwarf came rushing in again.  This time Kosk didn’t bother with his staff, instead charging forward with one hand tucked in close, poised to strike.  He ignored both the flames still licking up one side of his body and the aura of heat that surrounded the creature.  Quellan thought he caught a glimpse of something in that fiery nimbus, a flash of light as the dwarf roared and unleashed a punch directly into the central mass of the elemental.

Perhaps Quellan shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still amazed him when the elemental shuddered from the impact of its much smaller foe, and was _driven back_.

Water flashed into steam as Xeeta hit the elemental with a series of _scorching rays_.  The creature recoiled but only to reorient itself on this more serious threat.  Bredan tried to block it, but when he slashed at it with his sword the blade only passed through it as if it really had been just normal water.

“You can’t have it both ways!” he growled in frustration.

“Back! Stay back!” Glori shouted.  At first Bredan thought she was yelling at him, but when he glanced over he saw that she was strumming her lyre with one hand while pointing at the elemental with the other.  But either it didn’t understand her or it wasn’t affected by her magic, as her _suggestion_ had no effect.

But before the water elemental could begin a fresh surge toward Xeeta, the fire elemental, knocked off balance by Kosk’s ki-enhanced strike, stumbled into it from the side.

If Xeeta’s spell blasts had created steam, the collision of the two elementals created a wild explosion as their opposed elements canceled each other out.  The beings recoiled instinctively from each other, but it was clear that the interaction had not gone well for either.  A big chunk of the water elemental’s upper surface had been carved away, while the fire elemental was missing one entire side of its “head”.  But it was clear that while the things could be hurt, they were not susceptible to damage to specific parts of their anatomy like a humanoid creature.

The companions pressed their attacks while the elementals were distracted.  Quellan hit the fire elemental again with his mace, while Bredan came up behind the water elemental and slashed at the thickest part of its body with his sword.  This time he felt some resistance, but he also clearly got the creature’s attention.  He tensed, expecting it to form another bludgeoning arm, but instead it just rolled forward onto him.  He started to let out a surprised yell, but it was abruptly cut off as the elemental enveloped him.  He drifted up into its mass, struggling in vain to escape as water poured into his nose and mouth and he began to drown.


----------



## carborundum

Aargh!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 132

Bredan floated helplessly within the body of the water elemental.  He struggled, trying to find a way out, but without anything to push off he could not get any traction.  Panic flashed in his eyes, clearly visible to his companions standing just a few feet away.

“Bredan!” Glori cried.

Xeeta stepped forward, flames flashing around her hands as she shot another series of _scorching rays_ into the body of the elemental.  Bredan flinched back as the flames slashed into the creature, but none of them penetrated to where he was.  Fresh plumes of steam rose from the mass of the monster, briefly obscuring it and its prisoner from view.

It only took a moment for that fog to clear, and when it did Glori was charging forward in its wake.  She leapt directly at the creature, her outstretched right hand stabbing deep into its body.  As her fingertips closed around Bredan’s ankle, her face just barely outside of its enveloping substance, she unleashed a _thunderwave_.

The sonic pulse shot through the creature, driving it back.  She clung desperately to Bredan, holding onto him as the elemental sloughed off of both of them.  The fighter had been hit by the wave of energy as well, and blood coursed from his nostrils and ears as he fell to the ground, but it seemed a small price to pay as he coughed up water and took in blessed gulps of air.

Glori’s spell thrust the two elementals into contact once more.  This time it was only a brief, grazing impact, but it left both of them scarred as more of their respective substances were evaporated.  The elementals, unable to take their frustrations out on each other, rebounded on their mortal adversaries with a renewed fury.

But the adventurers had not let up.  Even as the fire elemental turned back toward Quellan, the cleric slammed his mace into its substance.  The magical weapon tore a chunk of burning matter free, leaving another gap in its body that was slow to fill.  Each time it suffered such a hit the creature seemed to diminish.  It continued attacking, but while the cleric’s face twisted in pain as its fiery claws continued to scorch his armored frame, he refused to give way.

On the far side of the battle Xeeta poured a stream of _burning hands_ into the water elemental.  The tiefling’s dark eyes seemed to glow in echo of her summoned fire, and as she drew back flames continued to burn around her hands.  She stumbled back a step, her expression clearing as if she was coming out of a dream.

The elemental turned on her, but once again Bredan stepped into its path to block it.  His sword had been left inside its body when Glori had pulled him free, but as he extended his hand the weapon materialized in his grasp.  The elemental poured at him, perhaps intending to duplicate its earlier attack, but the warrior held his ground.  At the very last instant he swept his sword around in a glittering arc that bisected the entirety of the creature.  With a sharp shriek the surging wave came apart, dousing all of them with water.

The fire elemental flinched as the back surge of water swirled around its base.  Kosk dove forward, letting the water douse his still-smoldering shoulder before rolling up into a punch that sizzled as it impacted the creature’s fading form.  At the same time Quellan came up and matched the hit on its other side.  The elemental quivered between them, pulsed one last time, and then came apart.


----------



## Neurotic

Did you miss the fact that it is Friday?  What kind of lame cliffhanger is this? Where are those hair pulling ones from Varo and others from The Pit?! 
Oh, just ignore me, good story, like we're used to.


----------



## carborundum

I don't think i could handle THREE cliffhangers in a week 
Great stuff as usual, and a tough fight! Could Kosk use ki to make his fists magical yet?


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> I don't think i could handle THREE cliffhangers in a week
> Great stuff as usual, and a tough fight! Could Kosk use ki to make his fists magical yet?



That's not until 6th level. The party is right on the cusp of 5th. 

I'd do cliffhangers every post if I could, but our poor heroes need a chance to catch their breaths. 

* * * * *

Chapter 133

The companions just stood there for a moment, letting their minds catch up with what they’d just experienced.  Finally, Glori unhooked her cloak.  She let it trail through the lingering swirls of water that were slowly draining back toward the pool before rushing over to Quellan.  She pressed it around him, the fabric sizzling as it absorbed the heat that the elemental had infused into his armor.  A few feet away Kosk was scooping up a few handfuls of water to douse the smoldering embers that were still clinging to his robe.  The new garment was already almost as ruined as his first, and it hung pathetically askew as he straightened and turned to the others.

“These two going to come back?” Kosk asked Quellan.

The cleric shook his head.  “I don’t think so, but I cannot be certain, not with what we’ve already seen in this place.”

“Then we should press on,” the dwarf replied.

“We’re all beat up,” Glori said, as she channeled a _cure wounds_ spell into the injured cleric.  “I don’t know about Quellan and Xeeta, but my magic’s almost depleted.”

“I can still utilize my cantrips,” Xeeta said.  “But yes, my higher-order spells are spent.”

“We still have a few healing potions in reserve,” Quellan said.  “Bredan, are you all right?  I only caught a glimpse of what happened, but that could not have been a pleasant experience.”

“It would have been worse if not for Glori’s quick intervention,” Bredan said.

“Seems like a poor bit of dungeon design,” Kosk said.  “The guardians were almost as much of a danger to each other as they were to us.”

“I don’t believe that was an accident,” Xeeta said.

“What do you mean?” Glori asked.  She went over to Bredan and treated him with another _cure wounds_ spell.  The warrior was soaked through, but he nodded in thanks as the healing magic seeped into him.  It looked like he was getting his second wind, but he still moved a bit stiffly as he joined Kosk in looking at the stone doors on the far side of the room.

“Whoever built this place,” Xeeta said, “They obviously did not want to keep _everyone_ out.  If this place is like the site we explored near Northpine, then it was built to protect something, while leaving it accessible for some possible future recovery.  Otherwise they could have just put it in a deep hole and covered it with a thousand tons of rock.”

“So these guardians and traps are a set of trials,” Quellan said.  “Designed to let only a certain type of intruder through.”

“The stone creature above let Bredan pass,” Glori said.  “But the rest of the guardians apparently didn’t get the message.”

“If you ask me, the people who built this place were insane,” Kosk said.  “Whether they were Mai’i, Eth’barat, or something else entirely.”

“Whoever built it, we have to follow this out to the end,” Bredan said quietly.

They started toward the far arch.  The stone floor in front of it was raised slightly, just enough of a step to separate it from the rest of the chamber.  The stone there looked to be the same as in the rest of the complex, the common rock that was indigenous to this region.  The doors themselves looked to be solid slabs of stone, set on pivots that were recessed into the surrounding threshold.

“I wonder what artifact we’ll find here?” Glori asked, while Kosk gave the doors a thorough examination.

“What makes you think it will be an artifact?” Xeeta asked.

“Well, that’s how it’s worked out thus far.  Besides, what else could it be?”

“A hungry dragon, given our luck,” Kosk muttered.  But he stepped back and reported that he hadn’t found any traps or other dangers upon the doors.

The doors didn’t have any handles or obvious latching mechanisms, so once more the three men took up positions and pushed.  This time the doors swung open with relative ease, though their sheer size and mass still required a good amount of effort.  They kept pushing until there was enough of a gap for even Quellan to slip past easily.

The doors opened onto a long corridor hewn from solid rock.  This one was wide enough for several of them to walk down its length side-by-side, with a ceiling that curved up to a rounded peak ten feet above them.  They followed it for a good forty or fifty feet before it deposited them on the edge of another sizable chamber.

This one wasn’t quite as long as the elemental room, but it was much taller, with a ceiling that was only barely visible at the edge of Quellan’s _light_.  The walls were rough and irregular, save for the one opposite the entry.  Once again that one was of a different composition than the rest of their surroundings, a sheer slab of a pale, coarse tan stone that didn’t look like anything else they had encountered since their arrival in the Silverpeak.  There was a single feature in that wall, a carved figure that resembled the dragon head of the chimera they’d recently fought, if rather vaguer in its details.  The dragon, if in fact that was what it was, stuck out about three feet from the wall at about eye level for Quellan.  There was a dark opening between its open jaws, a feature that had them all giving the stone head a wide berth as they advanced into the room.

“It’s a dead end,” Glori said.

“Possibly,” Xeeta said.  “But look, there’s a gap around the edges of the slab.”

Quellan held up his spelled mace, and the others could see what the tiefling had noticed.  The tan wall was in fact separated by a gap from the rest of the cavern, a narrow opening that extended all of the way around it.  Still giving the stone dragon-head a cautious eye, Glori advanced until she could peer into the gap at the base of the wall.  It wasn’t much of a space, maybe a foot across at its widest point.

“There’s a bit of a breeze coming up from below,” she said, holding a bare hand out over the opening.

“Careful,” Quellan said.  “There could be anything down there.”

“Anything thin,” the bard replied.  She strummed her lyre and conjured up a fresh batch of _dancing lights_, which she directed into the gap.  As they descended they threw up long shadows along the surface of the tan slab.

“This shouldn’t be here,” Kosk said, frowning at the pale wall.  “This is the wrong kind of stone for this kind of mountains.  It doesn’t belong here.”

“How did it get here?” Quellan asked.

“I don’t know, but there’s a lot of it,” Glori reported.  The glow from her lights was barely visible now at the edges of the narrow chasm.  “This goes down a long way.  I can’t make out an end to it.”

“This must be the reason for this place, then,” Xeeta said.  “It seems unlikely that they’d want someone to shimmy down into that gap.”

“Even I don’t think I’d fit,” Glori said.  “And I’m the smallest among us.  No offense, Xeeta.”

The tiefling smirked.  “None taken.”

“Perhaps the key is the dragon carving,” Quellan suggested.  “Though it looks pretty obviously like a trap.”

“I’ll take a look at it,” Kosk offered.

“Can you even reach it?” Xeeta asked.

Kosk shot her a dark look, but he didn’t get a chance to respond.

While the others had been talking Bredan had slowly approached the pale wall, moving around the far side of the dragon head to a clear spot.  He pulled off one of his gloves, and as Xeeta teased Kosk the young man reached out slowly and rested his fingers upon the stone.  It felt slightly rough beneath his fingertips, like pumice, and after a moment he felt something else, an odd warmth that spread through the contact into his body.

“Bredan, what are you…” Glori asked.

She was cut off as light flared out of the stone.  The glow originated where Bredan’s fingers touched but quickly spread throughout the entirety of the slab.  The light suffused throughout the stone but it had barely reached the edges of the huge block before it began to coalesce into an intricate pattern of lines and runes that resembled the page of a truly massive book.  None of the markings appeared to be in any language that any of the adventurers knew, but the five of them could not look away as they stood there, spellbound, ensnared by whatever magic Bredan had triggered.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 134

Glori was the first to shake clear of the enchantment of the glowing wall.  She tore her eyes away and shook her head to clear it as she took a step back from the gap that separated the tan slab from the rest of the room.

“What was…” she began, but wasn’t able to finish her thought for a moment as she shook off the lingering effects of whatever spell had snared her.  She was careful not to look directly at it as she stumbled over to the cleric.  “Quellan!  Quellan, snap out of it!”

The cleric started and looked at her in surprise.  “Glori?  What…”

“Don’t look at it!  We have to help the others.”

Quellan nodded and turned to Kosk, but the dwarf and the others were already beginning to come out of their fugue.  The markings continued to glow within the pale stone, but they no longer seemed to have the same magnetic pull on their minds that they’d had on their initial manifestation.

“What… what _was_ that?” Quellan asked.

“I don’t want your bloody magic book messing with my mind, boy!” Kosk growled.  Bredan just looked confused, blinking as he stared up at the wall.

“Something definitely just happened,” Xeeta said.  “My reservoir of spell energy… it’s completely refilled.”

“Mine as well,” Glori said.  “And my burns… they’re healed.”

“Whatever it did, it happened to all of us,” Quellan said.  “And so far, at least, the effects appear to be benign.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kosk said.  “I don’t like the idea of some ancient magic taking liberties with me.”  He gestured toward the wall.  “Especially when all it has to say is a bunch of gibberish.”

“Bredan, do you know what it means?” Glori asked.  “Bredan!”

He started and looked at her.  “No,” he said.  “I don’t…”

Before he could finish, they were interrupted again, this time by a gentle pulse from the markings on the wall that drew their attention back to the surface.  It was followed a moment later by the emergence of a glowing stream of light from the open mouth of the dragon sculpture.  The stuff poured down like a trickle of water, except that when it struck the stone floor of the chamber it simply vanished without even a splash.

“Okay, what’s _that_ now?” Glori asked, her voice growing a bit strained.

Xeeta stepped forward, a look of awe on her face.  “It’s an arcane source,” she said.  “Raw magical energy…”

“That doesn’t exactly tell us much,” Kosk muttered, but the tiefling stepped forward eagerly, so eagerly that the others retreated a wary step back.  But all she did was thrust her rod into the steady flow of light.  Instead of dividing around it the way a normal stream would have, the glow soaked _into_ the rod.  The brightness spread down the full length of the dark wood until it shone as intensely as the spell that still radiated from Quellan’s mace.  It lingered for a few moments after the sorceress drew the rod out of the current, then slowly faded.

“Um… what just happened?” Glori asked.

“Quickly,” Xeeta said.  “We don’t know how long the flow of power will continue.”

Even before she finished speaking Bredan came forward, his father’s sword in his hands.  Without waiting for approval he thrust the bare blade into the arcane flow.  The steel absorbed the glow much as Xeeta’s rod had, and as it approached his hands a sigil began to take shape within the blade right where it met the hilt.  Bredan stared at it as he drew back.

“Will it affect a bow?” Glori asked.  “Or should I do my lyre?  What if touches skin?  Is it safe?”

“I don’t know the answers to any of those questions,” Xeeta said.

“It won’t harm you,” Bredan said.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Kosk said.

Glori stepped forward and shoved her bow into the glowing cascade.  Once again the light spread through the shaft of her weapon, but as the bowstring passed through the current it sizzled and came apart.  Glori quickly drew back the bow, but the damage had been done.

“Oh, damn it,” she said.

“Do you have another bowstring?” Quellan asked.

“I do, but that was my best one.”

“The stave, it’s still taut,” Kosk pointed out.

Glori stared at the weapon in surprise, confirming the dwarf’s observation.  Carefully she felt at it, and as he fingers touched where the string should have been, suddenly they could see it, a line of pure white light.  It seemed to sparkle as she drew upon it.  “Okay, that’s pretty cool,” she said.

“It’ll ruin the bow if it keeps the stave permanently bent,” Kosk said.

“Something tells me that it won’t,” Xeeta said.  “Quellan, you’re up.”

The cleric stepped forward.  “My mace is already magical,” he said.  Instead he held out his shield.  Again, instead of deflecting the flow the battered wooden disk simply absorbed it.  When he drew the shield back the gouged wood had been replaced by a sheer surface, upon which a softly glowing sigil that marked the outline of an open book shone.  Even when the glow faded, the insignia remained.

“That is… How did it… I admit, I am amazed,” the cleric said.

“Your turn, Kosk,” Glori said.

“Bah, I’m not touching that,” the dwarf said.

“It won’t hurt you,” Bredan said.

“I agree with prudence and caution in most cases, but in this case I think I would agree with Bredan,” Quellan said.

“If he doesn’t want to go, I’ll do something else,” Glori said.  She reached for her sword, but before she could draw it Kosk abruptly shoved the burned end of his staff into the arcane flow.

The magical stream abruptly ceased.  At the same moment the runes embedded in the wall vanished, along with Quellan’s _light_ spell, plunging them into utter darkness.


----------



## SolitonMan

Uh oh...

Kosk should learn to be less negative


----------



## carborundum

Lol poor Kosk, he never catches a break


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 135

“Bloody hell!” Kosk cursed.  There was a faint shuffle as their eyes adjusted to the unexpected darkness, but no enemies appeared, no traps launched fresh death at them.  Bredan brought his sword up in a ready position, but he was careful not to move; without darkvision, he was as dangerous to his friends as to any unseen threat.

“It’s okay,” Glori said.  She lifted her bow, and as she set an arrow the magical filament that had replaced its string began to glow.  “There’s nothing here.”

Quellan re-invoked _light_, this time settling the magic upon his shield.  The spell worked normally, revealing that the fountain had ceased its arcane deluge and the wall behind it was once again blank and featureless.

“What just happened?” Kosk asked.

“You broke it somehow,” Glori said.

“That’s ridiculous,” the dwarf said, but he examined the end of his staff with a critical eye.  The black scarring from the fight with the fire elemental had gone, the wood restored to its normal texture, but there was no other indicator of whether it had been imbued with magical potency like their other items.

“Was that exit there before?” Xeeta asked.

They all turned to see a narrow opening to the right of the original entrance.  The companions shared a look.  They hadn’t been looking that way when they’d come in, but it seemed unlikely that they would have all missed something so obvious.  But none of them were confident enough in that to speak their opinion out loud.

“Well, it’s the only way left, so unless you want to go crawling around in that crevice, let’s check it out,” Kosk said.

Glori turned to Bredan.  “Is there anything else you need to do here?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think so.  I have to be honest, I don’t understand any of this.”

“Well, something did happen,” Quellan said.  He ran his fingertips over the sigil now emblazoned on his shield.  The _light_ appeared to be shining out of the pages of the book.  “We may not know what it means until later.”

“If ever,” Xeeta pointed out.

Kosk had made his way over to the second exit.  “Are we leaving or not?” he asked.

“From now on, the phrase ‘patient as a monk’ will have a new meaning for me,” Glori said.

The exit was narrow at first, so narrow that both Quellan and Bredan had to slip sideways through the entry.  Fortunately, it was high enough that both men could negotiate it without scraping their heads on the stone.  After about ten sliding steps it widened enough that they could all manage without difficulty, but shortly thereafter they came to a new challenge: a steep, twisting shaft that ascended back toward the surface.  The shaft wasn’t quite vertical, and its irregular sides offered plenty of foot and handholds, but they still ascended slowly and carefully.  Not surprisingly Kosk reached the top well ahead of the rest of them, but he waited with poorly-disguised impatience before continuing ahead.

The shaft ended at a broad stone shelf just wide enough for all of them to fit.  There was a narrow opening at the back, a tight triangle between two overlapping slabs of stone.  The space beyond seemed to be a cave or other natural feature, lacking any of the telltales of human construction that they’d encountered elsewhere in the complex.

Kosk went to check the opening while Quellan helped Xeeta up to the ledge.  The tiefling had again brought up the rear, and she paused for one last look down the treacherous ascent before moving to join the others.

“Fresh air,” the dwarf reported, before ducking to crawl though the opening into the cave.  Glori followed easily enough, but Quellan had to push Bredan’s feet before he could slide through.  Once he was clear the half-orc examined the gap dubiously.

“Maybe you should go first,” he said to Xeeta.

“If you get stuck, you might need me to push,” the tiefling replied.

Quellan took off his pack and shield and pushed them through first.  Then he scrunched himself as low to the ground as he could get before he started through.  Bredan grabbed his hands and pulled, while Xeeta added her own strength from behind.  For a moment it looked like the cleric might get wedged in, but then his hips scraped through and it was just a question of being dragged the last few feet before he was clear.

After that effort, Xeeta’s passage through the opening was almost anticlimactic.  The cave was large enough to fit them all comfortably, though there were places where the ceiling dipped low enough that the taller men would have to exercise care.  The cave extended beyond the radius of Quellan’s light and curved slightly to the right so they couldn’t quite make out what lay ahead.  Kosk started that way to take a look as Xeeta stood and started brushing off her coat and leggings.

“Well now, that wasn’t so…”

She was cut off as a rumble started directly behind them.  Before any of them could react the stone slabs that stood poised over the entrance to the shaft shifted and suddenly collapsed.  A plume of dust shot out as the opening was sealed, much of it spraying onto the tiefling.  Xeeta reached out with her rod and tapped the stone that would have crushed her utterly if she’d still been in the gap when it had collapsed.

* * *

Author’s Note: looking at the glowing rune wall gave each of the characters the benefits of a long rest, along with one additional benefit that will be revealed shortly. The items dipped into the arcane font gained the properties of a _+1 weapon/shield_. Xeeta’s rod gained the power of a _+1 Wand of the War Mage_, with the extra bonus of an instant attunement.

Next week: KUROK v. HEROES


----------



## carborundum

Lazybones said:


> The items dipped into the arcane font gained the properties of a _+1 weapon/shield_




Kosk too? :-D

I wonder how Kurok's going to get in through all those sealed passages (and maybe the skull)


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Kosk too? :-D




I'm going to leave that ambiguous for the present. 



> I wonder how Kurok's going to get in through all those sealed passages (and maybe the skull)




No need, since their exit made quite a bit of noise...

* * * * *

Chapter 136

“That… that was close,” Glori said.

“I don’t think it was an accident,” Quellan said.  He looked at Bredan, who clutched the hilt of his sword but didn’t say anything.

“I think there’s a way out this way,” Kosk said.

The cave went on for a quite a distance, but as they followed the dwarf they could smell the change in the air.  Finally, they saw a faint glow ahead, which then resolved into a low opening beyond which daylight could be seen.

“Would have been a lot easier if we’d found this way first,” Glori said.  “No guards.”

“I’m not entirely certain we could have gone this way, even if we had found the cave,” Xeeta said.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Bredan said.

They had to climb over an uneven slope of rocks to reach the exit, but none of them had any difficulty.  The exit was narrow enough that they all had to stoop to clear it, crawling under an overhanging slab of stone to finally reach the open air outside.  Bredan and Quellan all but dragged Xeeta clear, giving the overhang a wary look, but this time there was no conveniently-timed collapse to block the way behind them.

They were in a small box canyon, surrounded on all sides by sheer fifty-foot cliffs.  The sky above was a stark blue, though the sun had already shifted in the sky so it was no longer visible.  A gap in the cliffs appeared to offer a way out, and after checking to make sure that they were all ready Kosk led them in that direction.

The crevice twisted back and forth a few times, and occasionally narrowed enough to force them to walk single-file, but after the close confines of the underground complex none of them offered any complaints.  Finally they could see an end ahead, and they emerged to find themselves on the edge of a field of shattered stones.  The forest was visible directly ahead of them, maybe a few hundred paces away.  The rocky ground around them was mostly clear, with weeds and a few particularly hardscrabble bushes sprouting in the gaps between the stones.  A few larger boulders were scattered about, and a granite mound much smaller than the one that had contained the shrine rose up about a hundred feet ahead to their right, its angled surface maybe eight feet high at its tallest point, not enough of a vantage to be interesting.

“We’re back in the valley,” Glori said.

“Can’t be that far from where we went in,” Quellan said.  “We didn’t cover that much ground.”

“It’ll be dark in a few hours,” Kosk said.  “We should find someplace secure to camp.”

None of them looked back; while the canyon was certainly easily defensible, none of them wanted to linger in this place any longer than they already had.

“Let’s see if we can find that stream again,” Glori suggested.  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use a wash.”

“Agreed,” Bredan said, but they’d barely started forward when a hint of movement to their right drew their attention.

A man came into view as he stepped up to the edge of the stone mound.  Or not a man, they saw as he reached up and drew back the cowl of his cloak to reveal dark red skin and vaguely familiar features.

“Goblin!” Bredan hissed, though this creature was easily his size if not a little bigger, though not as physically imposing as the bugbear they’d fought before.

“Hobgoblin,” Kosk clarified.  “They’re worse.”

“What do you want?” Quellan asked.  The hobgoblin wasn’t carrying any obvious weapons, though one might have been concealed under the drape of his cloak.  That cloak seemed to twist and shift in color as he moved, blending in with the dark stone of the mound.

“Um… I think we might have found our spellcaster, guys,” Glori warned.

“He’s going to find my fist in a moment,” Kosk growled.

Quellan repeated his question, this time in the goblin tongue, but still the creature did not react, he just watched them silently.

“Why isn’t he attacking?” Bredan asked.  He’d drawn his sword, but with the advantage of height and a large span of rough terrain between them it was clear that the hobgoblin had chosen his ground carefully.

“I want to know how he found us,” Glori asked.  “I find it difficult to believe that a hobgoblin just randomly happened to be here.”  She had an arrow fitted to her bowstring, the string glimmering slightly in the bright daylight, but did not immediately attack.  Like the others, she was waiting to see what surprises their foe might have in store.

“He was following us,” Xeeta said.  “I _knew_ I sensed something before, when we were entering the shrine.”

“He couldn’t follow us in, so he waited for us to come out,” Quellan said.  “He probably heard the collapse in the cave and followed the noise here.”

“Say the word, and I can take him out,” Xeeta said.  Her hands were clutched tight around the shaft of her rod, and the infused rune sigils had started to glow.  But if the hobgoblin was worried, he gave no indication of it.  He just continued to watch them, waiting for them to make the first move.

“Well, I’m not just going to stand here and wait for him to spring his trap,” Kosk growled.  He started forward, but had gotten barely two steps when the hobgoblin lifted an arm from under his shifting cloak.

A creature strode up to join him atop the shelf of bare rock.  It looked like a wolf at first glance, but the distance separating them was not enough for it to masquerade as a mundane beast.  Its pelt was dark, almost black, with eyes that glowed like banked coals within the recessed hollows of its skull.  An armored goblin rode upon its back, carrying a large axe.  As he came into view the goblin raised that weapon, and his worg mount let out a sharp bark that had the air of a command.

That command did not go unanswered.  More of the worgs and their riders appeared, stepping out from behind boulders or emerging from behind the cover of the mound.  Not all of them had riders, and some bore obvious wounds that had not quite healed, but that didn’t change the hard reality that they faced nearly two dozen foes, adding the worgs, the goblins, and their silent leader.

“This is not good,” Glori said.

“We can fall back into the canyon,” Quellan said.  He pitched his voice just high enough to make sure that Kosk heard.  The dwarf had stopped a few paces ahead of the rest of them, and while they could not see his face it was clear from his stance that he was ready if not eager to fight regardless of the odds against them.  “We can hold them off there, keep them from swarming us.”

“Yield the power of the shrine to me, and I will permit you to leave this place with your lives,” the hobgoblin said suddenly.

“Well, that confirms your theory, Xeeta,” Glori said.

Quellan opened his mouth to respond, but Bredan beat him to it.  “That power is not for you,” he said.

For a moment, the two sides just faced each other across the open space, the only thing moving the weeds that bent and twisted in the soft breeze.

Then the hobgoblin smiled.

Bredan felt a cold chill that seemed to penetrate him to his core.  He heard something, a soft whisper that tickled at his perceptions, uttering words that he was thankful he could not quite decipher.

Then he heard a scream, a scream he knew all too well.

He spun to see that a black globe had materialized directly behind him, a field of utter darkness that blocked the route back into the canyon.  It was close enough that he could have reached out and touched it without taking a step.  Instinct told him that it would be very bad if he did that.

He looked over and saw that Quellan and Kosk were also outside of that sphere, but both Glori and Xeeta, who’d been a few steps behind them, had been caught inside.  He’d heard Glori’s scream as if she was still right next to him, but he couldn’t even make out a vague outline of her form within the darkness.

Before he could do anything, the goblin leader shouted a command, and the worgs charged forward as one, their howls echoing off the cliffs behind them.


----------



## carborundum

Edit, edit, edit...
(Annoying - if you hit reply in tapatalk it quotes the entire post, and you can't seem to change that in the settings.

Anyway...)

He wants the power? Does he mean the raw magic that's now been spread out over some weapons and a shield? Can be suck it back out somehow, then? 

And obviously if I'd known they were outside I'd know how Kurok could find them. Classic Friday teaser


----------



## Lazybones

The exact nature of the power that both Bredan and Kurok have been seeking is one of the things that I've kept vague but have notes for developing if the story got that far. My original plan was to stop at the end of Book 6 (which is coming up fast), but I may keep on going if folks are still interested in the story. I don't have anything but outlines at the moment for books 7+ but I do know how the story ends. 

* * * 

Chapter 137

Bredan could hear the start of the enemy charge, but he couldn’t leave Glori trapped in the dark bubble.  He started toward it, before he could enter the black radiance Quellan grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back.

“You can’t help her by going in there,” the cleric said.  “Glori!  Xeeta!  Follow the sound of my voice!”

Bredan could hear the howls of the wolves and the shouts of their riders drawing closer, but didn’t turn around until Glori staggered clear of the black sphere.  She looked ill, with a rime of frost clinging to her hair and eyebrows, but she quickly realized the danger they were in.  “Look out!” she warned.

Bredan finally turned to see the ring of worg riders quickly closing in on them.  The rough terrain was slowing them a bit, but not much; the nimble beasts, smarter and faster than mundane wolves, were springing over the irregular rockscape almost as though it was a featureless meadow.  Some of the goblins had bows and were firing as they came; Bredan realized this when an arrow shot past his face so close that he could feel the breeze of its passage.

Kosk hadn’t retreated, and now stood about five paces ahead of the group, waiting in a ready stance to receive the charge.  Bredan could see that a number of worgs from each side were converging on his position, but he could not move to help him without leaving Glori completely exposed.

“Stay behind me!” he urged, while moving toward a spot that he hoped would take some of the pressure off the dwarf’s flank.

But he’d barely started forward when he heard a sound that caused his guts to clench.  It came from Glori’s lyre, but it was unlike any melody he’d ever heard from the instrument, all discordant and grating on his senses.  It only lasted a few moments, but when it finally ceased he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

He quickly realized that he had not been the intended audience for those odd notes.  Several of the charging worg riders approaching from the right side of the granite mound abruptly stopped, recoiling as if they’d suddenly found a gaping chasm in front of them.  A few of the goblins reacted even more strongly, flinging themselves from their mounts’ backs and retreating back the way they had come.  The _fear_ spell did not catch all of the creatures in its effect, but it disrupted the charge, forcing those who were behind the initial wedge to circle around their panicked companions.

Bredan glanced back at Glori to see that she looked almost as surprised as he was at what she had wrought.

But the bard’s magic had done nothing to stop the other wave of worgs charging from the left, and Bredan was only able to watch as they reached Kosk.  But what he witnessed next almost caused him to forget about the danger they were in.

One of the riders launched an arrow at Kosk, the missile darting over the heads of the slavering worgs directly at the dwarf’s head.  He flinched back, and for a moment Bredan thought he’d been hit, but when he straightened again the smith was amazed to see that the monk was holding the arrow in his hand.  Apparently, he’d plucked it out of the air, an almost impossible feat.

But the worgs would not be defeated so easily, as several of them hurled themselves at this foe that stood alone against them.  Kosk snapped his staff into one in mid-leap, deflecting it enough that its jaws closed only on empty air.  The creature landed awkwardly, stunned by the blow.  The goblin on its back swung his curved sword at the monk, but Kosk was already well clear and the stroke found only empty air.

But the dwarf’s luck ran out as the second worg shot past; twisting its head around it lashed out and seized hold of his ragged tunic, using its momentum to lift the dwarf from his feet and dash him to the ground.  A third descended on the fallen monk, clearly intent on tearing him to pieces before he could get up.  For a moment, Bredan lost sight of Kosk under the pile of swarming bodies.

But then the worg standing over the dwarf suddenly toppled over, landing hard in the rocks.  Its rider managed to land on his feet, but as the goblin started to turn toward Kosk the dwarf’s staff shot out and clipped him in the throat, dropping him as effectively as he had his mount.

“Behind you!” Bredan shouted, as the worg that had flung him down just a heartbeat before quickly spun and launched itself at the monk again.  The goblin, hanging on to the thick fur on the worg’s neck with one hand, had a curved sword raised in the other.  But before either could strike, Kosk shifted and with a blur drove a fist—no, Bredan saw, it was just an open palm—squarely into the center of the worg’s chest.  The monster and its rider had all the leverage in that situation, yet somehow it was they who were driven backwards, the worg stumbling as it fought for footing on the awkward surface.

All of that had taken barely a few seconds, but before Bredan could come to Kosk’s aid the worgs that had escaped Glori’s spell came hurtling into him.  He got his sword up in time to deflect the first attacker’s rush.  The worg shifted to the side but could not escape a blow that tore a foot-long slash in its side.  Another sought to use the distraction to bring its enemy down before he could recover, but instead of trying to bring the heavy sword around again Bredan released one hand from the grip and summoned a _shield_ that blocked both its snapping jaws and the awkward swing from the goblin on its back.

A massive explosion erupted over the battlefield, and Bredan flinched before he realized that it hadn’t been focused on him, but rather on the mound of rock where the warlock and the goblin leader had first appeared.  But he didn’t get a chance to see what that unexpected event portended, for the worgs recovered and came at him again, quickly moving to flank him between them.  Bredan managed to avoid the first, but even as he started to turn to face the second he felt a hard impact slam into him from behind.  Something clipped his head, the blow thankfully deflected by the iron rim of his cap but still causing stars to explode in his vision.  But that was mild compared to the pain that exploded in his side as the worg’s jaws snapped into him, lifting him from his feet before slamming him hard into the rocks with hundreds of pounds of slavering beast on top of him.


----------



## carborundum

Not again, Bredan! That boy really needs a good strong helmet...

********

As long as you're happy writing I'll be happy reading 
If it's getting to be like work then I'd love to read your summary of the rest of the story. For now, it's back to waiting, I guess...


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 138

When Xeeta finally staggered clear of the maelstrom of dark energy, she found a battle going on all around her.

When the hobgoblin’s spell had first hit, she’d felt a moment of panic.  She’d been raised to be a creature of night, using its cover to complete her missions in the back alleys and dank sewers of Li Syval.  Normal darkness held no terror for her, but against this unnatural shroud her enhanced vision was useless.  It didn’t help that there was _something_ in there with her; sinister whispers assaulted her ears, and she could feel vile tendrils probing at her legs and arms.  On top of that it was _cold_, the chill penetrating to her core and stealing away the very life from her body.

Quellan’s call finally snapped her out of her fugue, freeing her of the paralysis of fear and urging her forward.  She tried not to think of what might be waiting for her in the darkness, stumbling over the uneven ground as she focused on the voices of her companions.

It felt like she’d traveled far more than fifteen feet before the darkness and cold vanished and she found herself again in the comparatively blinding brilliance of the day.  She mostly felt relief, even if the scene that greeted her was one of chaos and danger.  The worgs were attacking, their goblin riders launching arrows or waving swords from atop their backs.  But Xeeta’s attention was drawn to the cloaked figure atop the stone mound.  She could sense the potency in him, and knew him to be the greater threat.

Her hand tightened on the familiar roughness of her arcane focus as she called upon the power of her magic.  It came at her summons, but as the raw energy coursed through her she could feel it surging, building beyond the _scorching rays_ she’d intended to cast.

No!  she thought.  Not now!

She knew it was no use; the Demon would not be turned aside once it woke.  Those raw surges were sometimes harmless, sometimes devastating, but always they did what they wanted, rather than what _she_ wanted.

Still, she tried.  And as the unfamiliar magic pulsed through her, she found to her amazement that she _could_ control it, drawing the wild energies into a single point that blossomed into a brilliant glowing sphere in her grasp.

Stunned, she barely managed to launch the _fireball_ before it exploded in her hand.

The blast enveloped the mound.  For a moment the fight was interrupted as the combatants on both sides were distracted by the impressive explosion.  She thought she’d spotted the hobgoblin warlock dodging back behind the mound an instant before the spell hit, but that was fine; at least she’d taken him out of the fight for the moment.  The goblin leader and his animal proved less agile, though both survived the blast and likewise withdrew from view.

But the respite her dramatic spell attack had gained proved brief, and as the fighting resumed she could see that her companions were in rough straits.  Kosk was surrounded by foes, though it looked like he was putting up a hell of a fight.  Worgs and their riders were snapping and slashing at him, and while he was somehow avoiding most of those attacks it seemed like only one final outcome was possible.  Quellan was trying to get to him, but a worg without a rider was holding him at bay, its jaws snapping violently as it tried to get past his shield.  Bredan and Glori were also engaged, and for a moment it looked like the warrior was in trouble before the bard summoned a _thunderwave_ that blasted one of his attackers off of him.  Bredan lurched to his feet, summoning his sword back to his grasp just in time to meet the attack of a second worg and its rider.

Xeeta stepped forward into the fray.  She wasn’t sure what had just enhanced her magical abilities, but she was certainly going to put them to use.

But before she could prepare a second spell, she saw a flash and felt a sharp jolt of pain in her side.  Grimacing, she sought out the likely source and spotted the hobgoblin warlock, standing in the shadow of the stone mound a hundred feet away.  The creature extended his hand and launched a second _eldritch blast_, but this time she saw it coming and ducked out of the path of the beam.  Before she could manage a response, the warlock darted back into cover and out of her line of sight.

“So, you wish to challenge me, hobgoblin?” she said.  Her power thrummed in her, and with the Demon apparently content to remain quiescent, she marched forward to confront their adversary.

But she quickly realized that her friends needed her more at that moment.  Kosk was still on his feet, but now that she was closer she could now see several bloody gashes that his foes had managed to inflict.  Two worgs and a goblin continued to harry him.  And Quellan was also in trouble; even as the warlock sniped at her the worg facing him got a grip on the cleric’s shield and pulled him to the ground.  A second worg that had a goblin archer on its back seemed to have been waiting for just that moment, for as the half-orc fell it lunged in to attack him from behind.  Both Bredan and Glori were fully engaged and in no position to help them.

_So be it_, she thought, lifting her hands as she summoned her magic.

Another _fireball_ would have incinerated her allies as well as their enemies, but this time the _scorching rays_ worked exactly as she expected.  As she channeled the power through her rod she could feel an unexpected intensity, and the magical beams seemed almost eager as they leapt out at her foes.  A burning stream scorched the worg that had pulled Quellan down, and a second brushed the backside of the one carrying the archer, distracting it from its attack.  She almost casually hurled the third _ray_ at the cluster of creatures savaging Kosk, and was rewarded with a quite rewarding yelp of pain from that direction.

The worg she’d hit in the rear spun away from the half-orc and launched itself at her, its rider holding on for dear life.  Under normal circumstances it would have easily reached her before she could manage another spell, but at the moment her magic was flowing through her like a raging river, and it seemed almost trivial to summon a _fire bolt_ that she threw into the worg’s face.  Once again the flames seemed hotter and stronger than she was used to, and the creature let out a terrible howl as they flashed into its open jaws, scorching it from the inside.  The worg collapsed just a few paces short of reaching her.  The goblin archer managed to scramble clear.  He looked up at her for a moment, their eyes meeting briefly before it turned and quickly darted off.

Xeeta didn’t get a chance to savor her victory as a scream drew her attention back across the battlefield.

This time it was Bredan who was having trouble.  The young warrior had clearly dished out some serious damage, as a worg was lying dead at his feet and the others around him bore obvious wounds.  But he was also hurt.  Xeeta could see that he was clearly favoring his left side, and trickles of blood covered the left side his face.

Glori was trying to help him, but three worgs had formed a circle around Bredan, keeping her at bay.  She had her sword out, and blood glistened on its length, but she couldn’t get past the worgs without leaving herself open to an attack from those deadly jaws.

Xeeta saw that the goblin leader and his beast had joined the group menacing her friend.  Both bore the marks of her _fireball_, but from the look of it they still had plenty of fight left in them.  Bredan held his sword in a ready stance, waiting for his foes to attack.  Xeeta could tell that they were moving into a position where they could overwhelm Bredan from all sides simultaneously.  He had to see that too, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop them.

Reflex had Xeeta reaching out to her magic once more.  Once again she let instinct guide her as she channeled that power into a spell she’d never used before.  Once again the Demon stirred in response, but she ignored its presence as she directed a flood of power into Bredan.

As if that were some trigger, the goblin leader barked a command and the worgs surged forward.

Bredan met the first worg with a powerful slash of his sword that tore deep into its shoulder and drove it at least momentarily to the ground.  But the other two came in quickly, and it looked as though a repeat of Bredan’s first exchange with the worgs would immediately follow.  The goblin leader’s beast, a huge creature that looked even more ferocious for the scorch marks that streaked its ugly hide, darted in and snapped its jaws at the warrior’s injured side.

It didn’t seem possible that the attack could possibly miss, but Bredan suddenly shifted and in a blur his arms came around and he drove the hilt of his sword hard into the side of the worg’s head just behind its jaws.  The impact knocked it roughly aside.  The goblin on its back swung his axe at Bredan’s head, but again the warrior reacted with preternatural quickness, ducking so that the weapon sliced through the air a finger’s breadth above him.

The last worg slammed into him from behind, and for a moment it looked like the warrior would finally go down.  But even at the worg’s jaws snapped on his cloak, trying to find purchase, he lifted his arms and drove his sword under his left arm and behind him.  The edge of the blade tore through the worg’s side, and it let out a pained yelp as it leaped back.  It quickly fell back into a crouch in anticipation of another attack, but before it could jump Glori stabbed it in the flank with her sword.  Now seriously hurt, the worg stumbled clear of the fray.

The goblin leader lifted his axe again, but Bredan’s enhanced reflexes were making it look as though his foes were moving in slow-motion.  His sword, trailing blood from the worg he’d just stabbed, was a blur as it sliced through the air at the goblin’s head.  But Usk Bloodrider was a canny veteran, and he saw death coming.  He yanked hard on his reins, and his mount instantly sprang backwards.  But his escape left the last rider in the path of the human warrior’s sword, and as Bredan finished his swing it knocked that unlucky creature from his saddle and slammed him to the ground.

Xeeta blinked as she watched the effects of her spell; the entire bloody exchange had taken just a few seconds.  Bredan and Glori seemed to now have things well in hand, and she started to turn back toward Kosk and Quellan.  But even as she began to gather her magic she caught sight of the goblin leader out of the corner of her eye.  The wounded creature and its mount had fallen back a good ten paces, out of the fight for now, but as she watched his head came up and his gaze fixed on the top of the stone mound.

She followed that stare in time to see the hobgoblin warlord reappear.  He seemed to appear out of thin air as rose up and his cloak, colored to match the surrounding stone, fell open.  It revealed something in his hand, something that Xeeta immediately recognized.  She knew it because she’d just summoned a similar globe of fire just a few moments before.

She instantly realized that letting her focus shift from the warlock, even for just a few seconds, had been a mistake.  Her companions, battered and wounded, were all within the blast radius of a _fireball_.  The surviving goblins and their worgs were as well, but it looked as though the hobgoblin was not particularly concerned about their fate.

She desperately called upon her magic, but knew it was already too late.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 139

When the enemy’s _fireball_ had exploded above him, Kurok realized that he had underestimated these foes.  The flames enveloped the top of the mound where he’d been standing just a moment before, but the luck of the Veiled One was with him and he managed to avoid the worst of the blast.

He crept around to the edge of the cover provided by the stone formation to see his forces engaged in a violent melee with the five champions of the human king.  From what he saw, Vederos had sold them short in his descriptions.  Most were holding their own despite being swarmed by Usk’s worgriders, but Kurok’s attention was drawn to the one who had hurled the _fireball_ at him.

For a moment he was surprised to see that she was almost certainly one of the Blooded.  But the obvious kinship they shared did not stay his hand long.  His first _eldritch blast_ caught her a glancing blow in her side, but she ducked under the second.  Kurok quickly darted back into cover before she could respond.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to summon the _Hunger of Hadar_ behind the foe, instead of in their midst.  His plan had been to cut off their escape and let Usk’s forces destroy them.  But it now seemed clear that he would have to take a more direct hand in things.

He drew up his cloak and let its magic conceal him.  Then, moving slowly and carefully, he crept back up the side of the mound.  He slowly lifted his head until he could see the battle once more.

What he saw was not encouraging.  Their enemies had all suffered wounds, but more of Usk’s creatures were down than still up and fighting.  A portion of their force had fled, no doubt affected by the magical _fear_ conjured by the half-elven woman.  They might be back, but it did not look like it would be in time to affect the outcome.

He took on the distribution of the remaining forces.  He could channel the full power of the Veiled One only once more this day.  He had no illusions about the outcome of a spell duel with the Blooded on the other side.  He sensed that her gift was innate, rather than granted as his was, and based on what he’d already seen that meant that she was almost certainly more powerful than he.

But he still had one card left to play.

He opened his mind to the power of the Veiled One.  The bargain he had struck was honored, and magic flowed into him.

Slowly, he rose.  None of the enemy noticed him, but as his cloak fell away he saw Usk Bloodrider, clinging to his blooded mount, look up and meet his gaze.  The betrayal in the goblin’s eyes turned into a bright hatred.

The enemy mage saw him when he let his cloak fall open, but it was too late for her to stop him.  Kurok lifted his hands and prepared to release his _fireball_.

Pain exploded through him.  He staggered forward, and only barely kept himself from toppling over the edge of the mound.  He tried to keep hold of his spell but the magic was already dissipating, his conjured flames dissolving into nothing as the animating power behind the spell faded.  The pain continued to radiate from a point in his back.  He coughed and felt the iron tang of blood in his throat.

He turned around and saw a figure in the distance, at the very edge of the forest.  His eyes widened in amazement as he recognized the distinctive features of yet _another_ of the Blooded.  The figure was already fitting another arrow to the longbow with which he’d obviously just shot Kurok.  The hobgoblin could see others just emerging from the woods behind him, a small force of dwarves and humans who shouted as they spotted him.  A few had missile weapons of their own that they quickly raised.  They’d have to be insanely lucky to score a hit at that range, but Kurok had already seen the way his luck had turned.

Yanking his cloak around him again, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain the action reawakened in his back, Kurok leapt down from the mound.  He hit the ground running, pulling the concealing elven fabric tighter around his body as he fled.  He could hear Usk shouting commands behind him and hoped that the goblin was more focused on extracting the survivors of his force than on securing his revenge against the hobgoblin.

Kurok didn’t stop running until he reached the cover of the trees, and then paused only long enough to verify that there was no immediate pursuit.  He could see worgs deeper in the woods, moving away, but made no effort to call out to them or otherwise reveal his presence.  The arrow in his back was an agony, but there was no way to get to it right now.  One of Usk’s acolytes had been left behind to guard their camp, but he doubted that he’d get to him before the surviving worg riders did.  Somehow he doubted that he’d get a warm welcome at that moment.

Pulling his cloak close around him, he slunk off to the northeast until the thickening forest swallowed him up.


----------



## Lazybones

Just a few more posts left in book 6. The good news is that I've started on book 7 and will continue posting the story here as long as folks are still reading it.

* * * 


Chapter 140

Xeeta kept her attention on the hobgoblin caster as he fled, not intending to give him a chance to try something crafty as he had before.  But he quickly dropped out of sight behind the cover of the mound, and by the time she’d circled around to the right to get a clear view, he’d vanished again.  She suspected that there was magic behind his disappearance, and reluctantly turned back to her companions.

The fight was quickly coming to an end.  With the arrival of the unexpected reinforcements the goblin leader had called a retreat, although few of his troops were still able to obey.  As she watched Bredan put the coup de grace to an injured worg that had been trying to creep off with a shattered hind leg.  There were a few other worgs and goblins still moving on the battlefield, but none of them appeared to be an immediate threat.  Some of those in the relief force were sniping at the fleeing worgs, but they couldn’t stop the creatures from vanishing into the woods to the east.

All of them bore wounds, with Kosk and Bredan the worst off by far.  Quellan had already gone to the dwarf’s aid, while Glori was quick to add her support to Bredan.  None of the worgs or goblins had gotten close enough to hurt Xeeta, but she could still feel the lingering chill from that globe of dark energy that the hobgoblin had conjured.  The thought almost had her looking for him again, but instead she turned her attention to their reinforcements as they emerged from the forest and headed their way.

It wasn’t a large group, seven or eight that she could see, a mix of dwarves and humans clad in dark colors that blended with the forest background.  Somehow, she was not entirely surprised to see Rodan at their head, his huge bow in his hand.  He wore his natural appearance, as they’d taken the magical amulet that he used to conceal his true features.  Xeeta carried it in her pocket.  She felt a sudden surge of irrational fury at the sight of him, but forced herself to discipline her thoughts.  Whether she liked it or not, he had kept them from being roasted by the warlock’s _fireball_, even if his arrival had been a bit too late to save them from the mauling they’d received.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she asked.  If there was a bit more of an edge in her voice than she’d intended, that could perhaps be excused by the circumstances.

“I didn’t escape, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rodan said.  Xeeta shook her head in negation, though the thought had occurred to her.  “I came to help you.  These who came with me… they all volunteered.”

“You were almost too late,” she said, glancing back at the gory battlefield.  The others were coming over to them, although Bredan was still limping and Quellan was hurrying after Kosk, trying to get him to stand still long enough to receive more magical healing.

She almost regretted the comment when she looked back and truly saw the state of Rodan and his company.  The tiefling ranger was clearly having some difficulty keeping upright, and those with him all looked utterly exhausted.  “I’m sorry.  It took some time to convince the Governor and the others on the council that I was sincere.  We got here as quickly as we could.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Bredan said as he joined them.

“I’d say you did well enough without us,” Rodan said, scanning the mangled wreckage of the goblin force that littered the battlefield.

“The fact that you came to help is appreciated,” Quellan said.

“You interrupted that hobgoblin right as he was about to hit us with something nasty,” Xeeta said.  Rodan looked at her in surprise, then nodded.

Kosk had gone over to one of the dwarves, who seemed almost abashed as he fidgeted with his loaded crossbow.  They spoke together in low tones, too quietly for Xeeta to hear what they were saying, but it seemed that they knew each other.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Rodan asked.

Bredan shook his head.  “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Whatever it was, we weren’t the only ones looking for it,” Glori said.

“Those goblins, and their leader,” Rodan said.  “Are there any more of them?  Is this an invasion?”

“I think that they were here for what was hidden in this place,” Quellan said.  “I think it’s safe now, but we had better make sure they leave.”

Rodan nodded.  “My men need a good night’s rest, and it looks like you do as well.  But tomorrow we’ll make sure those bastards leave the Silverpeak, and never come back.”


----------



## SolitonMan

Lazybones said:


> Just a few more posts left in book 6. The good news is that I've started on book 7 and will continue posting the story here as long as folks are still reading it.




Thanks Lazybones!  I've really been enjoying this story hour a lot.  

I often wonder how many readers have a basically unlimited appetite for this sort of thing.  I know I do.  I read an entry and I'm ready for more immediately.  If there were 100 entries, I'd be ready for the 101st as soon as #100 was done.  I've read several of the story hours on ENWorld multiple times, including the Doomed Bastards (SO much fun!).  As long as you have story to tell, I'll be an eager reader.


----------



## Lazybones

Glad you're still enjoying the story, SolitonMan. 

* * * 

Chapter 141

Kurok jolted awake.  The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon but it was still light enough to tell him that he hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours.  The air was bitingly cold, and there was a sharp wind that tore mercilessly into his shelter.  That was a niche in the cliffs barely large enough for him to fit inside.

A faint scrape of something on the slope outside his shelter told him what had pulled him from his rest.  Slowly he lifted himself up, drawing his cloak around him.  Even that movement awoke fresh pains in his back.  The extraction of the hunter’s arrow had not been a pleasant experience.  He’d used his last _potion of healing_, but it had not been enough to fully restore him.  Nor had the brief rest he’d managed, but he could feel his magic swirling within him, and that would have to be enough.

He crept forward to the edge of the crevice and peered out.  He was not entirely surprised at who he saw, standing about ten paces away.  Usk Bloodrider also looked rather the worse for wear.  His worg, standing in his shadow, growled a warning as Kurok appeared.  The rest of the worgs and the surviving goblins—a scant fraction of the force that had arrived here just days ago—were waiting a short distance further up the slope.

Usk watched him silently, waiting.  It used to be that Kurok was the one who made others uncomfortable, but that seemed like it had been an eternity ago.  “My death will not be purchased cheaply,” he said.

The goblin leader’s face twisted into an expression of disgust.  “If we ever see you again in these mountains, your life is forfeit,” he said.  Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed over to rejoin his people.  The worg shot him one final growl then trailed behind its master.

Kurok watched until the depleted column made its way up the slope and disappeared over its crest.  Then he pulled his cloak around him and returned to his shelter.  He would need a full night’s rest; he had another long and difficult journey ahead of him.

* * *

“Wildrush!”

A collective sigh went through the worn and tired group at Glori’s announcement, followed by a few dull cheers as others spotted the familiar outlines of the hilltop town through the thinning trees ahead.

After a week in the wilds of the Silverpeak Valley, they all looked and felt a little ragged.  The men all sported beards, even Kosk, who hadn’t bothered shaving.  The days had been long; first they’d followed the tracks left by the fleeing worgs to the valley’s edge, then they’d spent a few days scouting and mapping the eastern approaches where the valley floor was accessible to the mountains.  Rodan had suggested that Wildrush would probably have to start patrolling that region, lest another raiding party—or a goblinoid army—approached from that direction.

The men and dwarves he’d brought with him included a mix of miners and trappers who knew the valley, if not as well as the tiefling ranger.  They showed deference to the adventurers, doing most of the work in setting up their camps each night and standing watch.  The five of them had been a bit distant.  Part of it was their need for rest and recovery after their ordeal, but even after their physical wounds had healed they were all preoccupied by what had happened to them inside the ancient shrine under the stone mound at the valley’s edge.  There were a few conversations about their experience, mostly pairing off during their long marches through the forest, but the fact that none of them had an answer for what had been done to them when they’d first stood in front of that wall of ancient runes always led them back to where they started.

Now that their destination was in sight, the mood lightened.  Rodan’s men began to talk about the first thing they would do on arrival, the leading contenders being a drink, a bath, or a visit to “Jolene’s Place,” a local establishment that had an easily-guessed purpose.  The companions didn’t join in the banter; their thoughts were on different objectives, including a visit to the Governor that would likely lead to more questions than answers.

“Kosk,” Glori said, nodding toward a figure that had broken off from the main group.  After a moment the dwarf walked over to him.

“I figure we’ll part ways here,” Kiefer said.

“There’s no reason you can’t go back to town with the rest,” Kosk said.  “I’ll speak for you, if that’s an issue.”

“Nah, it’s not that.  It’s time I was moving on.  You were right before.  Going with Rodan doesn’t wipe the slate clean on what I did before.”

“It means something that you wanted to help,” Kosk said.

“Yeah.  Well, if there’s something I learned from you, it’s that a man pays his debts.”

“_I_ taught you that?” Kosk asked.

Kiefer snorted.  “Yeah, well, I guess I picked it up somewhere.”  He gave the monk a furtive look.  “You have changed.  I guess… maybe it means that any of us can change.”

“Take care of yourself, Kiefer,” Kosk said.

“Aye.  Tell the others I’m sorry, eh?  For what happened before.”  Kosk hadn’t told his companions anything about the other dwarf’s role in the ambush at the mine, and neither had brought up their past relationship, though it was obvious that they’d met each other before.

“As far as I’m concerned, that matter’s closed,” Kosk said after a moment.

Kiefer nodded, then broke away from the group, heading off in the direction of the road that led down into the valley.

“What was that all about?” Glori asked when the dwarf returned to the group.

“Just saying goodbye to a bit of my past,” Kosk said.

Xeeta went over to Rodan, who’d trailed a bit behind the others, as if his steps had suddenly grown heavy.  “It’s been a long journey,” the sorceress said.

“Yeah,” Rodan said.  Both of them knew that she wasn’t talking about their recent exploration of the valley.
They trudged another twenty steps before she spoke again.  “We did what we had to in order to survive.”

“I know that.  We… we were what they made us.  But I’m glad to see that you were able to become more than that.”

“You as well.”

“I know it probably means little now, after everything… but I am sorry.”

“Like I said.  We were all just trying to survive.”

“And now?”

“It seems like you have found a home for yourself,” Xeeta said.

“Yes.  It wasn’t what I expected… and it took a long time.”

“I’m sorry if I put that in jeopardy.”

“It’s probably better this way.  I told myself that I was just trying to protect everyone, but the fact remains that I was lying, living a lie.  Pretending to be something that I was not.”

“You… we… are more than the sum of our heritage.”

“If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here,” Rodan said.  “Have you found what you were looking for?”

Xeeta looked thoughtful for a moment.  “I don’t know.  For a long time, I thought it was a place.  A place far away from where I started.  A place that was safe.”

“That’s what led me here,” Rodan acknowledged.  “Not that any place is truly safe, not with what we bring with us.”

“There’s no escaping it,” Xeeta said.  “But of late I’m starting to think that home isn’t really a place at all.”

Rodan glanced over at the other adventurers.  They weren’t talking, and all seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.  “I think I know what you mean,” he said.  “It’s fortunate to be able to find that.”

“Yes,” she said.  She kicked a rock, and it skittered up the slope ahead of them.  “So, what happens now?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I suppose I find out if I can rebuild the trust I had earned here.  Before they knew what I was.”

“Who you are hasn’t changed,” she said.  “Once they realize that, then they may be able to trust you again.  And given what we now know, it’s not like they can afford to turn away an ally.”

“And what about us?” Rodan asked.

Xeeta was quiet for a few moments longer.  “Answering that question may take a little more time,” she said.

He nodded.  They remained silent as they walked up the rest of the way to the waiting walls of Wildrush.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 142

The interior of the temple in Wildrush seemed almost to glisten in the pale light that filtered in through the tall but narrow windows.  A constant soft patter on the high roof indicated that it was still raining outside.

A faint gust from the foyer caused the flame on the stand-lamp next to the lectern to flicker, and Quellan looked up from the book he’d been writing in with an annoyed expression on his face.  The half-orc had brought in a tall chair to turn the lectern into an improvised writing desk.  He tilted his head to see if someone was coming in, but whoever it was must have gone to one of the other two shrines that shared space in the ancient building with the temple of Hosrenu.  He hadn’t given those as much attention as he had the sanctum of his own faith, but reckoned that they were cleaner than they’d been in his lifetime.

He turned back to the book, at the page he’d almost filled with entries.  The inventory wasn’t quite complete, but it made him feel good to see the neat rows of text.  He dipped his pen again, making a mental note that he would have to make another batch of ink soon.

Before he could resume his work, however, a creak of the cellar door sounded behind him.  Shenan shuffled in, carrying a stack of books that he laid down on the altar beside the lectern.  At Quellan’s look he let out an exasperated sigh and moved the books to one of the nearby shelves.

“Most of these are suitable only for the trash-heap,” the older priest said.  He held up one of the books so that the half-orc could see the shattered binding.

“I have some experience rehabilitating old texts,” Quellan said.

“If you apply half as much effort as you do to rehabilitating old clerics, then I shouldn’t doubt you’ll manage it,” Shenan said.  His tone was caustic but there was little heat in his words; the two had reached something of an understanding since Quellan had returned.

Another cold gust filled the room, flickering the lamp again and rustling the old priest’s robe.  “I wish you’d let me keep the inner door shut,” Shenan complained.  “It’s hard enough to keep the heat in here without letting the breeze in.”

“The whole point of a temple is that it is welcoming to the public,” Quellan said.  “The people of Wildrush need their sacred spaces, especially in times like these.”

“Not that anyone bothers visiting ours,” Shenan said, but he had to eat his words as they heard footsteps clearly coming their way.

“Ah, Lady Leliades,” Shenan said, as Glori came into the room.

“Just Glori, please, Shenan,” she said.  “Wow.  The temple’s looking really…”

“Orderly?  Indeed, I fear that your friend has had quite the transformative effect.”

“Yes, he does that.”

“We were just speaking of rehabilitation,” Shenan went on.  “I understand that you’ve been engaged in some of that yourself.”

“What?  Oh, you mean with Rodan, don’t you?  I just thought it was important that the people of Wildrush know what he did to keep them safe.”

“Yes, ‘The Ballad of Rodan’s Run’ is all I hear whenever I venture out into town, it seems.  Quite a catchy tune.  Though the escape of the villain somewhat undermines the final effect.”

“I’ve always found that people are more receptive to truth, even shaded truth, than a reassuring fiction,” Glori said.

“Yes, well,” Shenan said, looking between her and Quellan before turning toward his quarters.  “As it happens, I was hoping to make a brief run over to the inn before it gets too late.  Is there anything you need me to get, brother?”

“I’m fine,” Quellan said.

“Thanks, Shenan,” Glori said, as the old cleric left.  He got his heavy winter coat and walked down the hall to the temple foyer and the exit.

“He seems to have softened a bit,” Glori said.

“It’s a work in progress,” Quellan said.

Glori turned and gave the interior of the temple a sweeping look.  “You’ve accomplished a lot here,” she said.

“Just restoring a bit of order, like Shenan said.”

“I haven’t seen you much over the last few days.”

“Been busy.  How’s the training with Bredan going?”

“Still sore,” she said with a laugh.  “If I’d known how hard the path to becoming a warrior-bard was, I’d never have started down it.”

“You’ve never been the sort to let a challenge stop you,” he said.

She walked past him, running a hand along one of the shelves that filled the room before turning back to face him.  “I was wondering if we could talk some.  About what happened in that place.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

“My magic, it’s gotten stronger.  I’m almost as powerful as Majerion was, back when we parted ways.  You said you could channel more of Hosrenu’s power as well.”

“Yes,” Quellan said.  “I can manage spells of the third valence, now.  It’s not exactly rare—there is far more powerful divine magic—but I’ve known clerics for whom it took years to reach that level.”

“Have there been any other… effects?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.  Odd feelings, dreams.”

“I’ve never been able to remember my dreams,” Quellan said.  “Why, have you been having nightmares?”

He began to rise, a concerned look on his face, but Glori gestured him back.  “No, nothing like that,” she quickly said.  “Not really.  Just… I don’t know.  Impressions.  Flashes.  I keep seeing a book.  Words on a page, moving.  I can’t make any sense of them.  I tried talking to Bredan about it, he seems to know more about this than any of us, but he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“There’s a great deal about the lore of the Mai’i that we know little about,” Quellan said.  “Even when the Empire was at its peak, they were secretive about their power.  As for books… I’ve read many of them, obviously, but none that spoke of anything like this.”

“I sometimes wish I could talk to that sage in Northpine again, or Lady Starfinder, back in Crosspath,” Glori said.  “I often wonder if everything that’s happened to us, if it’s all connected somehow.”

“We do keep finding ourselves fighting for our lives in ancient dungeons pretty frequently,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps when this war’s over, we can investigate further.”

“Right, the war,” Glori said.  “Sometimes it’s easy to forget about that, even with our little clash with our friends from the mountains.  Rodan seems convinced that we’ll be safe once the winter storms arrive in a few months, but I guess that means we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“I suppose,” Quellan said.

There was an awkward pause, and after a moment Glori finally shrugged.  “Well, I guess I’d better get going,” she said.  “I promised Gavis over at the Barrel that I’d play two rounds tonight, the “Ballad” and “Battle with the Chimera.”  Ever since I mastered the _major image_ spell, my performances have been much in demand.”  She strummed a few evocative notes on her lyre and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Quellan said.

Glori stopped in mid-turn and looked at him.  “Um… I was going to come find you later,” the cleric said.  He fidgeted a moment, then finally closed the book in front of him to have something to do with his hands.  “I… I borrowed this from Xeeta.”  He pulled open his robe to show that he was wearing the tiefling’s amulet, the one she’d taken from Rodan when his true nature had been revealed.  Now that his secret was out, he’d let her keep it.

“Quellan…”

“I attuned myself to it earlier,” he said quickly, before she could say more, and then his brow furrowed with concentration and his form shimmered.

Only his face changed, but when the illusion was in place the difference was remarkable.  Gone was the greenish-gray tinge of his skin, the squashed nose, the oversized jaw with its protruding teeth.  The features were still recognizably Quellan’s, but he looked like an average human, though there were a few subtle hints that suggested he had worked in some elvish traits to match Glori’s mixed ancestry.

“I thought we could maybe go out together without people looking at me like I’m some kind of monster,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” Glori said.  “You’re not a monster.”

“I know how people react to me,” he said.

“Then they are idiots,” she said.

“I’m not a saint,” he said with a sigh.  “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“We all have,” she shot back.  “Remember those goblins that I put to sleep under the manor house, near Northpine?  The ones that Kosk killed?”

“That was his choice, you didn’t…”

“But it _was_ me.  At the time, I was glad.  _Glad_ that he did it.  Those creatures were evil, and they deserved to die.  I still hear the snap of their necks in my dreams.”

“Glori…”

“Don’t,” she said.  “Don’t ever hide what you are, not for me.  Take it off, undo it, whatever.”

He reached up and removed the amulet.  The false face dissolved and his true features returned.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his arm.  “I’m not a total fool, Quellan,” she said.  “I… I’m not sure I can give you want you want.”

“I’m happy to have you as my friend,” Quellan said.  “If I did anything wrong… if I ever…”

“You’ve always been a perfect gentleman,” she said.  “I don’t fault you for feeling more.  Can you… can you just give me some time?”

“Of course.  I would never pressure you, Glori.  And I would never want you to feel like you couldn’t… that we couldn’t be friends.”

“I know.  Just as long as you promise to always be honest with me.”  She took his hand, the one that held the amulet, and closed his fingers around it.  “Just give this back to Xeeta.  You don’t need it.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 143


Bredan’s room in the Brown Barrel lacked a fireplace or brazier, and he shivered as he got up out of the bed and padded over to the chamber pot.  The building was better-constructed than many in Wildrush, yet drafts seemed ubiquitous.  After finishing he went over to the washbasin and picked up the cake of soap he’d brought in town.  It hadn’t been that expensive; it seemed that most of the residents of the mining town didn’t bother with such niceties.  But Bredan’s uncle had battered certain habits into him past his stubbornness, including the value and importance of cleanliness.

“What time is it?” moaned a voice from the bed.

Bredan tried to look through the tiny window, but the glass was of such poor quality that he couldn’t see much outside.  Ice crystals had formed on the pane, suggesting that no matter how cold it was inside, it was much colder out there.  “Early,” he said.

Rodan pulled back the coverlet just enough to reveal his mussed hair—and the curling ridges of his horns.  “Come back to bed,” he groaned.

“I thought rangers were up with the dawn,” Bredan teased.

“When we’re out in the field, yeah.  When we’re in town, we sleep in.  Especially with how late we stayed out last night.  Gods above, are you _bathing_?”

“Cleanliness is important, especially in places like this,” Bredan said.  “Filth breeds disease.”

“Diseases don’t get up this early either,” Rodan said.  He started to pull the coverlet back up, but paused.  “You know, I used to think that all those scars were a sign of how experienced a fighter you are.  But I’m starting to suspect that maybe you just aren’t very good.”

Bredan grinned and started toward the bed but was interrupted by a rapid series of knocks on the door.  He went over and opened it to see Xeeta standing in the hallway.  The tiefling had the illusion of her human face in place.  Even though her true nature had been revealed to Wildrush just as Rodan’s had, she habitually wore the ranger’s _amulet of disguise_.  It might have had something to do with the fact that she was not as well known in town, or just an abundance of caution borne of habit.

“Gah, does nobody in this town sleep to a reasonable hour?” Rodan cursed.

“It’s midmorning,” Xeeta said.  “Another late night, boys?”

Rodan growled something unintelligible.  Xeeta leaned forward and looked into the room, her eyes shifting between Bredan’s bare torso and the rumpled bed.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.

“Nothing at all,” Rodan said as he swung up out of the bed and reached for his trousers.  His tail swirled around his ankles as he pulled on the pants.

“What’s up?” Bredan asked.

“There’s been a messenger from the south,” Xeeta said.  “He only just arrived, and he’s at the Governor’s place right now.”

“What’s the news?” Bredan asked.

“The soldier that brought the word didn’t deign to share it with me, if he even knew.  I suspect he didn’t.  For some reason, the Governor’s keeping things close to his vest.”

“That could be a sign that the news is bad,” Rodan said as he pulled on his shirt.  He left his bow where it sat propped against the wall at the foot of the bed, but he buckled on the belt that supported his rapier.

“This messenger, he came over the mountains alone?” Bredan asked.

“Apparently, he came with a supply caravan, but he rode on ahead,” Xeeta said.  “The rest broke camp as he left and should be here in a few hours.”

“So everyone will know that there’s news, in a few hours,” Bredan said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in town knows that there’s been a rider by now,” Rodan said.  “Word travels fast in a place like Wildrush.”

“We’d better get going, then,” Bredan said.  “The Governor, he wanted to see us?”

“Apparently, he asked for you personally,” Xeeta said.

“What, me?  Just me?” Bredan asked.  “Why?”

“Well, if you get moving, then you can ask him,” Xeeta said.

They ran into Glori and Quellan as they were leaving the inn.  Glori had been spending a lot of time with the cleric at the local temple of late, and apparently another of the Governor’s men had found them there.  They didn’t have any additional information, however.

“It does sound rather ominous,” Glori said as they made their way through town.

“Did anyone find Kosk?” Xeeta asked.

“He’s been spending a lot of time on his own lately,” Quellan said.  “If the Governor’s people can’t locate him, we can track him down after and fill him in.”

Bredan hung back a bit while the others talked, mostly musing on what the mysterious messenger’s news might be.  They hadn’t heard anything from the south since they’d arrived in the Silverpeak Valley, and thus had no idea how the war against Kavel Murgoth was going.  Bredan had often wondered how their recent encounters fit into the bigger picture.  It was too much of a coincidence that they would have encountered a hobgoblin spellcaster and a pack of goblin worg-riders looking for the same magical shrine, for it to have nothing to do with the invasion of the north.  Was Kavel Murgoth somehow connected to the same power that had changed Bredan and affected his companions?  What was the role of this “Blooded” caster that they’d fought?  Xeeta hadn’t been able to tell them anything more about his origins, except that the power he’d commanded had felt identical to the innate gifts of her outsider heritage.  The hobgoblin hadn’t had horns or the other obvious signs of that bloodline that the tieflings possessed, so what did that mean?

The town was bustling, forcing them to negotiate a busy traffic as they made their way to the west side of town near the main gate.  Bredan overheard parts of a dozen conversations that confirmed what Rodan had said earlier.  Everyone seemed to be making the same conjectures about the messenger from Adelar.  Bredan heard several theories ranging from an imminent invasion of the valley to Prince Dalgran slaying Kavel Murgoth in single combat.  More than one person in the crowd turned to watch the adventurers as they made their way with purpose toward the Governor’s house, but no one tried to hinder them with questions or interruptions.  Thanks in part to Glori’s illusion-enhanced renditions of their adventures, the companions had taken on a sort of legendary status in Wildrush.

It didn’t take them long to reach the two-story building that served as the home and office of Governor Brownwell.  There was a small crowd of a few dozen people out front, waiting and watching for any news, but they parted as the companions approached.  The guards on the front porch opened the door for them, letting them in without challenge.

“I will admit, there’s a certain convenience in being famous,” Xeeta said to Glori as the door closed behind them.  A clerk working at a desk in the front room adjoining the foyer rose as they came in.  “The Governor’s in his office upstairs, he’s expecting you,” the young man said.

“We know the way,” Rodan said as he started up the stairs.

The Governor’s office was in a large room in the front corner of the building.  The companions had been there several times in the last month, starting with when they’d accepted the mission of hunting the chimera that had attacked Wildrush.  Since then they’d been more or less accepted as adjuncts to the official authority in town.

They could hear voices from behind the door as they approached.  There were no guards here, and Rodan only briefly paused to give a quick rap on the door before he opened it and went in.

“Ah, good, you’re all here,” Brownwell said as they filed in after the ranger.

There were already several people present.  In addition to Governor Brownwell himself, there was Captain Lydon, the leader of the small garrison of soldiers, standing over by the fire.  Darven Caleron, the mine leader, was sitting in front of Brownwell’s desk, next to a halfling leather crafter named Gavel Leafhollow.  The latter was the replacement on the town council for the missing Coop, who had disappeared without a trace when his association with the goblinoids that threatened the valley had been revealed.

There was one other figure in the back of the room, sitting in a chair half-hidden behind the fireplace.  The stranger—who by process of elimination had to be the messenger—was a middle-aged human in dust-stained travel clothes who was reading a book spread open on his lap.  He alone didn’t look up as they came in.

“I understand there’s some news, Governor,” Glori said as Quellan closed the door behind them.

“Yes,” Brownwell said.  He glanced over at the messenger, who still seemed to be engrossed in his book.  Clearing his throat, the Governor said, “The war is over.  Murgoth has been defeated.”

A stir went through the gathered adventurers.  “That’s… that’s wonderful news!” Glori said.  “How, when…  I have so many questions!”

After another sideways glance, Brownwell said, “From what I understand, the actual battle took place nearly a month ago, it’s just taken time for the news to reach us all the way up here.”

Bredan had been watching the messenger, but he started at that, and glanced over to meet Xeeta’s gaze.  Obviously, she was having the same thought he was, _A month ago is when we went into that shrine_.  But that just had to be a coincidence; how could the two things possibly be related?

“The Prince’s army crushed the main goblinoid force a few days east of Kenner’s Crossing,” Brownwell was saying.  “The survivors fled back into the mountains.  There were a few more raiding parties scattered around the area, but most of those should have been driven off or destroyed by now.”

“That _is_ good news, Governor,” Quellan said.  “If you don’t mind me asking, why keep it quiet?  The people of Wildrush will be glad to hear this information.”

“I asked him to wait,” the messenger said, finally looking up from his book.  He inserted a strip of cloth to mark his place and then closed it.

“And who are you?” Bredan asked.  The way he said it had several of his companions looking at him curiously.

The stranger did not wilt behind the young warrior’s scrutiny.  When he didn’t respond immediately, Brownwell cleared his throat again and said, “This is Gregoros Konstantin, he is a wizard of the Apernium in Severon.”

Quellan reacted with a jolt; he had a look on his face that suggested he’d just had a revelation.  Glori, standing next to him, noticed and whispered, “What is it?”

“Later,” he muttered back.

With his focus on Konstantin, Bredan did not notice the exchange.  “I heard that you were looking for me,” he said.

“Indeed,” Konstantin said.  “I have come a long way to find you, Bredan Karras.”

Bredan blinked.  “Do I know you?”

“No,” the wizard said.  “But I have been searching for you for quite some time.  I will need you to come with me.  You and your friends.”

“Where?” Quellan asked.

“To Severon, and the headquarters of my order.”

Another stir passed through all of them, even the Governor and his people.  “The capital of the kingdom?” Glori asked.  “But that’s… it will take weeks to get there, if not months, with winter fast coming…”

“I can have us there tonight,” Konstantin said.

“Teleportation magic?” Quellan asked.  At the other’s nod the cleric said, “That is powerful magic indeed.”

“You said that you’ve been following us for some time,” Glori said.  “If you’re so powerful, how come you didn’t just scry us and find us right away?  For that matter, it’s not like we’ve come here in secret.  We openly signed on with the King’s army, we’re here at his remit.”

“Yes, I know,” Konstantin said.  “As for the rest, I give you my word that all will be made clear once we are in Severon.”

“No offense, sir, but we are going to need a bit more assurance than that, before we agree to go with you,” Glori said.  “How did you find us?  And why is Bredan so important?”

“I have been tracking you since Crosspath,” the wizard said.  “It is a very common misconception that wizards can instantly locate something or someone using scrying magic, but the reality is in many instances far more complex.  I arrived in your town of origin not long after you had left.  I followed you to Adelar, learning of some of your more… _notable_ achievements along the way.  It took me longer than expected to locate your trail from there; due to the confusion wrought by the war and a few unfortunate clerical errors I did not immediately learn of your mission to the north and wasted some valuable time following the Prince’s army.  But finally, I was able to learn what had happened and made my way here.”

“You didn’t answer my final question,” Glori said.

Bredan stepped forward.  “Why?” he asked.  The way he said it, the word was more than just a simple question, but it encapsulated all that had happened to him since he’d left Crosspath.

Konstantin rose from his chair and met Bredan’s gaze squarely.  Finally, he said, “Your father was one of us, during a time long past.  He helped us through a time of great turmoil and threat.  All signs indicate that we are approaching another such time, Bredan Karras.  And our hope is that like your father, you will lend your aid to help us through what is to come.”

* * * 

End of Book 6


----------



## carborundum

So many words, and he doesn't say enough! 
*shakes fist at cliffhangers*


----------



## Lazybones

Book 7: RICH BACKSTORIES

Chapter 144

Bredan sat alone in the darkness and tried not to succumb to despair.

The only light was the vague glow that came through the slot in the door, but it was unnecessary, as his cell was nearly devoid of features.  There was not even a bench to keep him off the cold stone of the floor.  He shifted, careful of the bucket in the corner, grimacing at the sound the chains that held him shackled made with the motion.

For the hundredth time he berated himself for getting into this strait.  Konstantin had warned him not to press the matter, but he’d ignored that advice.  He, an utter stranger to Severon, had thought he’d known better…

A sound from beyond the door caught his attention.  He heard footsteps drawing closer.  There was a clatter at the door, a sound of the lock being worked.  Bredan tensed, though the chains made an escape attempt impractical.  He’d already tried every link with his strength, had tried stressing the bolts that anchored the ring to the wall, but the unknown builders who had prepared this place had known their business.  Maybe with a chisel and hammer he could have worked himself free, but with only his bare hands it seemed unlikely.

The door finally swung open, and Bredan blinked against the sudden intensity of light.  His jailor was a familiar figure, though he wore a bulky robe that concealed his features and a cowl that he kept up even in the dim confines of this hidden place.  He was holding a small wooden tray of food and a flimsy cup.  He regarded Bredan for a moment before he knelt to place his burdens on the floor, taking up the empty ones from his prior visit.  The bucket was replaced less frequently.  Bredan had been here long enough to know that, but otherwise had no idea how much time was passing beyond these walls.  The light from outside never wavered, and his hosts had been less than garrulous.

As the robed man started to get up Bredan asked, “Where’s Glori?”

The man just looked at him, his face a dark shadow within his cowl.  “Just tell me, is she alive?” Bredan persisted.

The man said nothing, just turned back to the door.  Bredan shot up, ignoring the tingling pains from his legs, which had fallen asleep under him.  “Just tell me, damn it!”  He lunged forward.  The chains drew him up short and he fell back to the floor.  He accidentally kicked his rations, the cup clattering off the walls before spinning to a stop in front of the door.  Even as he stared at it the heavy slab slammed shut, punctuated by the rattle of the lock being worked.  Not that it mattered, not with the chains holding him against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Bredan said.  He just lay there on the floor for a time.  Finally, he stirred.  He fumbled around for his meal.  The stuff they fed him was hardly appetizing even before it was spread upon the dirty floor, but he forced himself to eat every bit he could find.  He had to keep his strength up just in case his captors slipped up and made a mistake.  Though thus far it seemed like he was the only one making mistakes.

Once he’d finished eating he drew back to the corner opposite the bucket and settled himself facing the door.  With nothing else to do, his mind drifted back as it frequently had since his arrival here, revisiting the events that had led him to his current circumstances.

* * *

Leaving Wildrush probed to be harder than Bredan had thought it would be.  It hadn’t been their idea to travel there in the first place, and their visit had been punctuated by almost constant peril and threat, but somehow the Silverpeak Valley had started to grow on him.

Part of it was the farewells that had to be made.  His relationship with Rodan hadn’t had time to grow, but it was still hard to leave him behind.  The tiefling ranger had understood why Bredan had to go.  He’d experienced his own journey of self-discovery, and the importance of knowing where he had come from.  Bredan in turn could understand why Rodan had to stay behind and face his own uphill fight to regain the trust of the people of his chosen home.

His friends had all agreed to come with him.  He was gratified, if a bit surprised, that Xeeta in particular elected to travel with them.  But on reflection, maybe it wasn’t that out of character.  Xeeta and Rodan had reconciled somewhat, but a spark of tension remained whenever the two were together.  Maybe it was the lingering legacy of what had happened in Li Syval, or maybe it was just the discomfort of having a reminder of your past right in front of you every day.  Either way, it seemed that for Xeeta at least the Silverpeak Valley was no longer big enough for the two of them.  She’d gone aside with Konstantin shortly after their initial meeting, so perhaps she’d gotten some assurances from the wizard that she would be, if not welcomed, at least tolerated in Severon.

After they’d made their farewells they departure itself was something of an anticlimax.  Konstantin delayed only until his fellow travelers were ready; the day after the wizard’s arrival they gathered in an empty room in the Governor’s house to begin their journey.  Bredan found himself a little tentative regarding the magical means of travel.  It sounded almost fantastical, the idea of being whisked halfway across the continent in the blink of an eye.  Quellan had offered a dissertation on the theory behind teleportation that had not done much to ease the young warrior’s fears.  The cleric had told him that successful use of the magic relied upon familiarity with the destination, which explained why the wizard had had to travel all the way up to Wildrush using mundane means.

The wizard had made whatever preparations were necessary before their arrival, so there was no time for Bredan or any of the others to have second thoughts.  He’d barely joined his friends in the cleared space in the center of the room before Konstantin waved his hands and uttered a sequence of syllables that made no sense to Bredan but which caused the room around them to waver.  For a moment there was a feeling of being somewhere _outside_ of reality, and then they were someplace else.  The plain lines and unadorned walls of the Governor’s house were replaced by a room of similar size, but with ornate décor and lush styling, from the golden trim on the crown molding to the detail work on the sconces that supported glowing lamps.  Bredan remembered staring at those, noting that did not appear to use anything so mundane as fire to produce their light.  An elaborate circle of markings had surrounded them on the floor, the eldritch runes dimming from a soft glow that had announced their arrival.  The teleportation circle was separated from the rest of the room by a velvet rope that served as a warning to anyone inattentive enough to miss the markings on the floor.

The week that followed had all distilled down into a confused jumble in Bredan’s mind, and even in his recollections all he could really pull out was a series of impressions.  The capital city of the Kingdom of Arresh had been stunning in its impact.  Bredan could remember thinking that Adelar had been a big city, but in contrast to this place the northern burg was positively provincial.  Severon sprawled out over a vast landscape along the banks of a broad, slowly-moving river, its edges creeping up onto the hills that formed a backdrop to the city.  The streets were filled with people of every sort, a neverending stream of humanity.  And others; while most of the city’s residents were human Bredan had spotted dwarves, elves, halflings, and gnomes, as well as some more exotic folk whose ancestry he could only guess at.

True to Konstantin’s word, the adventurers were received as honored guests.  The wizards had put them up at a really nice inn just a few blocks from the Apernium, itself a city within the city, dominated by the impossible spire of the Silver Tower, the headquarters of the kingdom’s organization of magicians.  They’d spent most of the first few days after their arrival in what seemed like an endless parade of meetings.  They’d told the story of their adventures in the north not only to wizards, but also to officials of the Crown and the Holy Assembly, an ecclesiastical council that apparently represented all of the major faiths in the city, and even an engineer who asked them endless questions about the quality of the roads in the north.  In turn they were briefed on the details of the campaign against Kavel Murgoth, the details of which were just reaching the ears of the common folk of the capital.  There was an air of celebration in the city, and even though they kept the details of their encounters in the Silverpeak Valley quiet at Konstantin’s request, they still found plenty of people willing to buy them drinks merely on learning that they’d just arrived from the north.

What they hadn’t gotten, and what had finally led Bredan to this cell, was answers to the questions that had brought him to Severon in the first place.


----------



## carborundum

What the hell? I go away for a few days and what happens?


----------



## Lazybones

Gotta shake things up every now and again, lest our heroes become too complacent. 

* * *

Chapter 145

Quellan had tried to talk Bredan out of it.

“I understand your feelings,” the cleric had said, “but I think the wizards may have the right of it in this instance.  Until we understand fully what is happening to you… what happened to all of us in that shrine in the Silverpeak… we shouldn’t do anything rash.”

“I just want some answers,” Bredan had replied.  “The wizards either can’t or won’t tell me anything more about my father, just that he used to work for them until his organization or whatever was disbanded.  And more vague statements about hidden threats and dangers to the realm.”

Even that information had come reluctantly, and only to direct questions.  The wizards—members of a prominent faction at the Apernium—had explained that Colvas Karras had been part of a specialized group of soldiers known as the Silver Gauntlet.  They’d served as bodyguards and troubleshooters, apparently running missions for the wizards in and around the capital, and occasionally escorting them on more distant journeys.  Apparently, there had been traitors in the organization, a group within the group that had turned against the wizards.  Konstantin had told him that Bredan’s father had been instrumental in defeating those traitors and their plots before they could cause real damage.

After those events, which had taken place almost four decades ago, the Gauntlet had been disbanded.  According to Konstantin, Colvas Karras had left the service of the wizards shortly thereafter and disappeared from their records.  The wizard said that wasn’t unusual; many of the loyal members of the Gauntlet had still been young men and women, and reluctant to retire on the pension that the Apernium had offered them.  Some of them had gone on to serve as mercenaries or security consultants for noble houses in the capital, but most had left Severon and disappeared, much like Bredan’s father.

“I’m continuing my research,” Quellan had continued.  “It hasn’t been easy.  Forty years is not that long in terms of organizational history, but there isn’t much in the church’s archives about either the factions within the Apernium or the Silver Gauntlet.”

“Xeeta says that these wizards are secretive by their very nature, since so much of their power is based upon the written word.  They don’t want to share their lore since it would diminish their own status.  And I can’t imagine that they would want to publicize information about a group of traitors within their own ranks, especially if they came close to succeeding in their plots.”

“The wizards have always been a prominent ally of the Crown.  I understand and share your concerns, Bredan, but they’ve only been helpful thus far.”

“I don’t feel helped,” Bredan had said.  “I’ve been poked and prodded and subjected to a dozen tests both magical and mundane, but no one has been able to tell me with any clarity what’s been happening to me.”

“We need to be patient.  I’m taking Xeeta with me to meet with one of the hierarchs of my church tomorrow, to brief him on what we found in the Silverpeak Valley and our encounter with the Blooded warlock.  I’m worried that the casters within Murgoth’s army are somehow connected with the organization that Xeeta described in Li Syval.  We already know that the power that’s been affecting you is something that these Blooded are interested in.  We need to know more, to start putting the pieces together.”

“Good, that’s good.  Go ahead and meet with him, they should know that that guy’s still out there somewhere, he was dangerous.  But I’m not going to wait any longer.  Like you said, forty years is not that long, there may still be people living here who knew my father.  I’m just going to ask around, see what I can find out.”

“I’d feel better if you waited for me, at least.  Severon’s not the frontier, but it has its own hazards.”

“Glori’s going with me, she’ll make sure I stay out of trouble.  But like I said, I’m only going to ask a few questions.  I’m not looking for trouble.”

But trouble had found them, Bredan mused back in his cell.  And he’d blundered right into it like a fool, dragging Glori down with him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 146

Thinking back on that fateful day, Bredan acknowledged that he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without Glori’s help.

She always knew the right person to talk to, the right questions to ask to get someone to open up and volunteer information.  Bredan had brought a purse full of silver coins in order to buy drinks at the various taverns they would visit, but with the bard in his company he’d hardly had to touch it.

They had started at a tavern in the Shield District, a neighborhood that was reputed to be a hangout for mercenaries.  Their visit to The King’s Blades had been brief, and with Glori directing their inquiry they made their way to one tavern after another, from sprawling inns where a hundred people crowded into a common room to dives that were little more than a wooden plank bar where guests stood as they drank.  Bredan couldn’t remember the names of more than half of the places they had visited, but the quality had definitely declined as the day had given way first to evening and then to full night.  They’d left the Shield District behind and moved into a part of the city known locally as the Gilded District, a name that convinced Bredan that the Severoners did in fact have a collective sense of humor.  The cracked paint and sagging buildings were quite the contrast from the rarified environs of the High District where they’d been spending most of their time.

Glori had urged restraint.  “I think we’ve done enough for one day,” she’d told them after they’d staggered clear of yet another room thick with smoke and the stench of stale sweat and spilled liquor.

Bredan had limited himself to only one drink at each place they visited, but even so his head was swimming.  “One more place,” he’d insisted.  “That guy you talked to seemed like he knew something, and it’s not that far.”

“We should be careful _because_ he knew something,” she’d said, but ultimately she’d agreed to accompany him to a dim tavern lodged in the cellar of a sprawling complex of buildings that leaned together as if for support.  There had been a battered brass sign on the front that identified it as The Marker’s Post.

The rest of the night was a gray haze, but Bredan could recall every detail of what had happened next in sharp clarity.  The steps that led down to the main entrance had been choked with litter and slippery.  Glori had started to make a joke about him cracking his head, but his response had been lost over the din that had spilled out when he’d opened the door.  The tavern had been deceptively large for its location, with two bars and a number of side-chambers that looked as though they had been parts of different cellars that had been joined together over time.  Thick posts supported a ceiling that still managed to sag alarmingly in places.  The place had been crowded with thirty or forty patrons, overwhelmingly hard-faced men in dirty coats.  More than a few had cast evaluative looks at Glori when the pair had entered, looks that had Bredan’s fingers itching for the hilt of his sword.  He’d left it behind, as a greatsword wasn’t a welcome adjunct in most of the capital’s bars, but he was reassured by his ability to conjure it to his hand at will.  He was starting to gain more control over that power, and in a few tests it didn’t seem like distance was an issue; he was confident that he could recover the sword even if it was halfway across the city.

Maybe something of that made it into Bredan’s face, or maybe the place wasn’t as bad as it looked, but nobody bothered them as they fought their way to the closer bar.  Again, Bredan let Glori take the lead.  He didn’t hear most of their exchange over the general din, but after a few moments—and a brief flicker of silver changing hands—the big bartender pointed and they made their way to the back of the place.  They passed through a breach in a brick wall that still had rough edges into still another side chamber.  This place looked like it had once been another cellar, with a narrow flight of steps that led up to a door near the ceiling.  There was still another bar there, this one little more than a shelf installed in a corner, manned by a surly-looking man with a leather patch over one eye.  Six tables were crowded into the room, half of them populated by men sitting on seats that looked to be made of piles of extra bricks.  A pair of lamps with dirty flues provided a wan light.  The mood here was more sullen than extravagant, and while none of the drinkers so much as glanced their way Bredan got the impression that their appearance did not go unmarked.

They started with the bartender, who wouldn’t tell them anything until they bought something.  Coins changed hands, and after getting a pair of shot glasses filled with murky liquid they were directed to a table in the far corner where a single man sat with his back against the wall.  He was draped in a dark cloak that couldn’t hide the hard lines of his body, even though he looked to be well past his middle years otherwise.

“Mind if we join you?” Glori asked.

The old man’s eyes flicked up at them.  “Suit yourself,” he said.

The two of them sat down on a bench made of a board set down upon stacks of loose bricks.  It shifted precariously as they settled their weight upon it.  “You are Gulder Nox?”

The man’s expression tightened, and for a moment it looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he sagged and said, “That’s my name.”

“We’re looking for information about someone who served with the Silver Gauntlet,” Glori said.

“That was a long time ago,” Nox said.

“Not all _that_ long ago,” Glori said.  “It seems like they were a pretty big deal, back in the day.  Should be folks around that remember them.”

“I’ve been told that some of them went on to work for private employers, after the organization was dissolved,” Bredan said.

Nox looked at him.  “Oh, is that what you were told?  Look, you’re not from Severon, that much is obvious, so I’ll give you a piece of advice.  Leave the past in the past.  Better for everyone that way.”

“Look, we’re not looking for trouble,” Bredan said.  “I’m just looking for information about my father.  Colvas Karras, he was a member of the Gauntlet.”

“Never heard of him,” Nox said.  “I can’t help you.”

“Look, we can make it worth your while,” Bredan said, reaching for his purse.

“I said, I can’t help you.”  With a speed that belied his years he shot up from his seat, jostling the table enough to splash some of their drinks on the battered wood.  Before they could stop him, he disappeared through the breach in the wall and was gone.  For a moment it looked like Bredan would follow, but he finally slumped back down onto the bench.

“Well, that was a bust,” he said.

“It’s just out first day looking,” Glori told him. “And I’d say we learned something.”

“Learned what?” Bredan asked.  He took a sip of his drink, then made a face.  “Gods, that’s poison,” he muttered.

“There’s more to this than what we were told,” Glori said.  “For an organization as prominent as the one the wizards described, there should be more people who know at least _something_ about it.  I could have put it down to apathy about the past, but this guy, Nox, he was legitimately afraid of talking to us.”

“Should I have gone after him?” Bredan asked.  He turned to look back at the doorway, but there was no sign of the old man.  He glanced over at the bar, but the man who’d served them had stepped out.  Frowning, he looked around but saw no sign of him.  The men at the other two tables were talking in quiet voices, not looking their way.

“We’re in unfamiliar terrain here,” Glori said.  “If we’d had a bit more time I could have tried a _suggestion_, but if you’d tried to catch him it would have only made a scene.  When we try again we’ll be a bit more circumspect—is something wrong?”

Bredan turned back to her.  “Just… I don’t think so.  I don’t know.  Something’s off.”

“You’ve had a pretty good number of drinks tonight.”

“This isn’t… my mouth feels numb.”

She put a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.  “I think we should get out of here,” she said.

They got up, but as he started to turn around Bredan stumbled and nearly fell.  He jolted the table much as Nox had, and Glori’s glass shattered as it struck the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“The drink,” Bredan said, staring at his overturned glass.

“Hsst!” she warned, drawing his attention back into the room.  The men at the tables had all gotten up, and now stood between them and the exit.  None of them had produced any weapons, but they didn’t need any to communicate malign intent.

Glori reached under her cloak.  “You _really_ don’t want to mess with us,” she said.

Bredan felt like a haze had been dropped over his senses, but with a supreme effort of will he was able to remain upright.  The four men hadn’t moved, but as he glanced over at Glori he caught a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye; the upstairs door had opened and there was someone on the stairs above them.

“Look out,” he said, or tried to; the words came out thick and slurred.  Glori sensed that something was wrong but reacted too late as the figure dropped down and brought something crashing down onto her head from behind.

Glori collapsed to the floor.  Bredan let out a yell and summoned his sword.  The weight of it, so familiar, pulled him off-balance.  He still managed to swing it, but Glori’s attacker was able to dodge back and the blade struck the wall with a loud clang.

Bredan’s vision was fading.  He slumped against the wall but pushed off it, struggling to lift the sword.  “Stay back!” he said, but this time it only came out as a vague mumble.

Another figure appeared in front of him, just a vague outline in his vision.  He swung the sword again, putting all of his fading strength behind the blow.  He felt the jarring impact, but that was the last thing he felt as he tumbled forward onto the hard floor.

He was out before he struck the stone.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 147

Bredan started as he came awake.  For a moment he did not know where he was; he must have dozed off while absorbed in his recollections.  The familiar stinks and the clinking of his chains quickly reminded him of his reality.

He was about to try to fall back asleep when he heard something, a soft footfall from outside his cell door.  Alert now, he straightened while carefully trying to keep his chains from making noise.  He did not know how long he had slept, but from his thirst he guessed that it had not been long enough for another meal period to come.  In his current circumstances, any novelty in his routine had to be respected with his full interest.

The lock worked and the door swung open.  The light from outside revealed someone that Bredan did not recognize, an older man of maybe fifty or sixty years.  His beard was solid gray and trimmed close over a heavy jaw lined with old scars.  He was dressed in a dark cloak over plain clothes that would have fit in just about anywhere in the city.  He seemed rather nondescript overall, if one didn’t catch the look in his eyes or the way he moved.

The old man carried a stool which he set down in front of him, just out of reach of Bredan’s chains.  He left the door open behind him, allowing a bit of light to enter the cell.  Even in that weak illumination Bredan could see that the man’s hands were rough and calloused, confirming the impression that he’d picked up earlier.  Despite his apparent age, this man was a warrior.  There was something else about him, something vaguely familiar that he couldn’t quite place as the man sat down and looked at him.

“Hello, Bredan,” he said.

“Where’s Glori?” Bredan asked.  “What have you done with her?”

“My name is Pentar,” the man said.  “I apologize for the rough treatment you’ve been subjected to.  I was away from the capital when you arrived, and the members of my organization felt it was better to wait for my return before speaking to you.”

“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” Bredan asked.

Pentar leaned forward and folded his hand together.  “As I said, I’m Pentar.  As to what I want, that is a more… complicated question.  But I want you to know, that we are not your enemy.”

Bredan rattled his chains.  “If this is how you treat your friends, then I’d hate to be your foe,” he said.

“I understand how you feel.  The nature of our meeting like this… it is regrettable.  But there are reasons for our actions.  We have learned to be mistrustful of things that look too good to be true.  Even after we found out who you are, _what_ you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bredan said.

“Have you ever heard voices in your head?  Maybe a dream that seemed too real to be a dream, but too strange to be real?  Or received messages that no one else could see.  Maybe in a book, or a scroll, or even scrawled onto a wall, perhaps.”

Bredan just stared at him.

“I see that you know what I am talking about.”  Pentar smiled, the scars near his mouth the only thing keeping him from having a grandfatherly look to him.  “You’ve probably thought that you were going mad.  You’re not mad, Bredan.  It’s the world that’s gone mad.”

Bredan circled his head to give their surroundings an exaggerated attention.  “Again, you’re not really making a good argument here with all this.”  He held up his shackled wrists.

“The bindings are necessary, for now.  My associates told me that you were quite… difficult… to secure.”

“If I could get free, you’d see how difficult I can be,” Bredan said.

His bravado failed to shake Pentar’s calm.  “What if I told you that we knew your father?” the old man said.

“I’m not sure I’d trust anything you’d say right now,” Bredan said.

“Prudent.  But true nevertheless.  Your family name, it isn’t Karras.  Your father wasn’t the only one to change his name, after what happened.  Those that survived the purge… finding a new identity became an exigency for those of us who did not elect to continue after the sundering of the Order.”

“You mean the Silver Gauntlet?” Bredan asked.

Pentar shook his head.  “I can only imagine what propaganda those wizards have fed you.  I’ll tell you the truth, Bredan, but it will take time for you to see it as such.”  He got up, grimacing slightly as he bent to pick up the stool.  “I apologize for breaking your connection to the Book,” he said.  “Like the chains, it is necessary until you are ready to listen to what we have to tell you.  There are wardings embedded in these walls that interfere with your power.  Don’t worry, we haven’t permanently damaged your bond.  We would never do that, even to an adversary.”  He turned to the door.  “We’ll talk again soon.”

Bredan had stared at Pentar as he’d spoken, but as the old man started to leave he thrust forward until his shackles drew him up short.  “Wait!  Tell me… please.  What happened to Glori?  Is she all right?”

Pentar looked at him with an expression that might have been pity, though it was impossible to be sure in the poor light.  “I’m sorry, Bredan.  We never meant to hurt you.”

“If you’ve killed her, I swear…”

“We didn’t kill her, Bredan.  You did.”

Bredan felt an icy chill penetrate him to his core.  “No.  You’re lying.”

“Again, I’m sorry.”  Pentar retreated, closing the door behind him.

“No!  You’re lying!” Bredan screamed.  He thrust to his feet, yanking on his chains with all his might as the lock was worked shut.  “You’re lying!”  He lunged toward the door, but the chains failed to give way and he fell to the ground.  He hit the bare stone hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

The old man lingered on the far side of the door for a moment, listening to the wretched sobs that came from within the cell.  Then he turned and silently headed back the way he had come.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 148

The Temple of Hosrenu in Severon could hold its own against the Apernium, the Royal Palace, the Aureate Circle, and the other examples of monumental architecture that dominated the skyline of Severon.  The temple grounds were dominated by the domed expanse of the Great Library, flanked on one side by the ivy-clad mass of the University and on the other by the more practical lines of the Factorium.  Those great edifices were surrounded by a cluster of lesser petitioners, structures small only in comparison to their noble neighbors.  Men and women of all races, united in the simple robes of their calling, walked between the buildings, carrying with them an air of dignified quiet that offset the hustle and bustle of the city beyond the wall just a stone’s throw away.

Quellan and Xeeta sat on a padded bench inside one of the smaller buildings, a three-storied gray block known as the Rectory.  It had once served as living quarters for the temple’s priests, but as the complex had grown its residents had spread out into the city, where the Temple now rented a dozen buildings.  The Rectory was now mostly offices, though a few of the senior officials within the church hierarchy maintained residences there for convenience.

“This is a waste of time,” Xeeta said.  “I should have gone with Bredan and Glori.”

“This is important,” Quellan said.  “The wheels of bureaucracy move slowly.”

She snorted, and he looked over at her.  Xeeta wore her usual appearance, an illusion that retained the outlines of her face while replacing the distinctive features of her infernal heritage.  Her red skin had been replaced with a healthy flesh-tone with hints of pink on the neck and cheeks.  The slightly curved, pale horns that rose from her temples were gone, replaced by ginger curls that spilled down over the shoulders of her coat.  The amulet she wore on a cord around her neck looked like just a pretty bauble, but Quellan knew that it carried the magic that allowed her to mask her true appearance from the world.

Quellan himself could well understand the impulse that had led her to adopt the disguise.  His own flesh was a mottled greenish gray, pulled taut over a muscled body that would have given the hardest warrior pause.  But it was his face that most often caused alarm.  His eyes were tinted yellow, shining under a heavy protruding brow.  But that feature was overwhelmed by the sharper jut of his jawline, from which a pair of tusks poked up as if to shout to the world, _orc here!_  In truth he was only half orc, but for most people he encountered such distinctions were academic.

“If I’d known we were going to be sitting her for hours, I would have brought something to eat,” Xeeta continued.  “Is there a lunch hall here or something?  Or is that how it works, the minute we step out they show up, so they can say that it’s our fault we couldn’t meet?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Quellan said.  “The likely answer is that people are busy.  We just concluded a major war, after all.”

“It’s not like the church of Hosrenu was a major player,” Xeeta said.  “Present company excluded, of course.  I’m sure the hierarchs of the God of Knowledge will be writing papers and debating the ins and outs of the defeat of Kavel Murgoth for the next century or so.”

Quellan allowed a soft chuckle at the dig.  “If anything, you may be conservative.  I just heard that a new monograph is being published that reevaluates some of the major theories about the Dead King.”

“Wow, impressive.  It only took them five hundred years.”

Quellan gave her a long look, until she turned her head away.  “So," she said.  “Tell me more about this high elder we’re supposed to meet.”

“I’ve never actually met Loremaster Caslek, but he has a significant reputation within the church.”

“What, did he write the definitive text on the historical significance of King Aislan’s menagerie?”

“I hope that you can manage to be just a bit less caustic during the actual meeting.”

“I make no promises,” Xeeta said.  “Hey, look.”

Quellan glanced over just as a young woman in the robes of an acolyte came into the antechamber.  As she bowed to them the half-orc priest noted the way her eyes shifted, never quite meeting his.  “The Loremaster will see you now.”

Quellan fought the urge to sigh as he stood.  “Thank you.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 149

Loremaster Caslek’s office was itself a small library, with bookshelves lining every wall and various loose volumes arranged on reading stands in the corners.  A large desk covered with neatly-organized piles of paperwork stood under a large window framed with decorative scrollwork showing intricate flowing designs.  The Loremaster himself was a thin man in his sixties who looked tiny in contrast to Quellan.  He rose as they were escorted in and gestured for them to be seated on the comfortable padded chairs arranged in front of the desk.

“Brother Emberlane,” Caslek said.  “I read your report on the events in the north.  Quite impressive, I must say.  The god has favored you in your quest for knowledge.”

“Thank you for making the time to meet with us, Loremaster,” Quellan said as they sat down.  He barely fit in the chair, which creaked slightly as he settled into it.

“Past due,” Caslek said.  “It should not be that the church dedicated to the accumulation of knowledge is the last to know of recent events.  No, I’m not blaming you,” he quickly added with a wave of his hand.  “The mechanism of your arrival here put you into the direct custody of the wizards, and your written report was quite timely.”

“We might have been here sooner, if we’d been able to get an appointment,” Xeeta said.

Quellan coughed a warning, but Caslek did not look offended as he shifted his attention to the sorceress.  “Fascinating,” he said.  He reached into one of the drawers of his desk and drew out a large handheld lens, nearly a hand’s span across.  He held it up to his left eye and regarded her through it.  “Really quite remarkable how there is no predictable pattern to how the dominant genetic influence expresses itself physically.”  He put the lens down quickly.  “Apologies, I did some work on the tiefling phenomenon in my youth, and it’s a field that remains of interest to me.  There is no need to mask your true form here, my dear.  The philosophy of our order is one of tolerance, and the wards would have reacted if you had come here with ill intent.”

“I’m fine,” Xeeta said stonily.

“Loremaster,” Quellan said.  “I included my recommendations in the report, but I wanted to stress the importance of what we found in the Silverpeak Valley.  I brought Xeeta because of her own potential connections to the threat posed by Murgoth’s minions, these ‘Blooded.’”

“Yes, it’s quite troubling,” Caslek said.

“That’s all?” Xeeta said.  “That hobgoblin warlock got away.  From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t the only one who escaped into the mountains.  If anything, Murgoth might have been their tool, rather than the other way around.”

“If nothing else, the King should be made aware of the danger,” Quellan said.  “We’ve told the wizards, but I do not know what they plan on doing with the information.”

“They will do what they feel best advances their own interests, of course,” Caslek said.  “But the King already knows about the Blooded, and we’ve been following the activities of groups like the cult in Li Syval for some time.”

“What?” Xeeta said.

“The accumulation of knowledge is one of the core precepts of our faith, my dear,” Caslek said.  “You aren’t the first tiefling to come to Arresh, of course.  As I noted, it is one of my own areas of research.”

“But between the cult, and then these goblinoids in the north,” Quellan said.  “I had always thought that tieflings were just the products of individual encounters between the people of our world and the entities of the farther realms.  But if there was some coordination, some plan…”

“Those ‘entities’ you refer to are intelligent and powerful,” Caslek said.  “Seductive, with what they can offer mortal men—and women.  We reinforce the popular conception of fiends as mindless brutes because it reassures the common people.  But we of the church do not fool ourselves, Brother Emberlane.  The barriers that separate our realms are not as strong as people would like to think.”

“So you knew about these groups, and did what?” Xeeta asked.  “Wrote papers?”

“Xeeta,” Quellan said.

Caslek held up a hand.  “The young lady is entitled to her ire,” he said.  “We understand the responsibilities of power,” he said to her.  “We do our share to fight against the darkness.  I understand that you were wronged, but the worship of Hosrenu is not sanctioned in Li Syval.  We have some influence here, which we try to use to guide the king in confronting this and other threats that we all face.”

“Politics,” Xeeta said.  “I understand, but that’s small solace to the children who suffered through their schemes.”

“The cult in Li Syval might have been defeated,” Quellan said.  “And Murgoth’s armies have been sundered.  But we don’t know who or what else might be out there working with these otherworldly entities.  We do know that they’re looking to accumulate power.  That warlock came specifically to the Silverpeak Valley to find that shrine.”

“Yes, the shrine,” Caslek said.  “The power left behind by the Mai’i, perhaps.”

“What else could it be?” Quellan asked.  “This isn’t our first run-in with this kind of magic, I included it all in my report…”

“Yes, it was quite thorough.  And we have accumulated a considerable amount of lore about the Eth’barat in recent years.  But there are other things happening as well.”

“Like what?” Xeeta said.

“I’m not at liberty to go into details at the moment,” Caslek said.

“Now you sound like the wizards,” Xeeta said.

“You have seen enough of the world to know that knowledge is power,” Caslek said.  “And like any kind of power, it can be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“You don’t trust us,” Xeeta said.  “Even though he’s one of you,” she added, jerking a thumb toward Quellan.

“It’s not a question of trust,” Caslek said.  “It’s a question of putting together a puzzle when you cannot see all of the pieces, or even know how many there are.  I have assembled a small panel, I hope you can spare some time to speak with them today.  Both of you.  We’d like to learn more about the events in the north, of course, but we would also greatly appreciate any details you could provide about your experiences in Li Syval, Xeeta.  I know it will be extremely difficult to revisit that period, but anything you could share with us could help us prevent such a thing from happening again.”

Xeeta looked over at Quellan.  “There is a lot going on at the moment,” she said.

“We would appreciate any time you could spare,” Caslek said.  He held Xeeta’s eyes until she nodded slightly.

“Excellent,” Caslek said.  He rose up from his chair, suggesting that the meeting was at an end.  “The acolyte will show you to the interview room.  Brother Emberlane, a moment?”

Xeeta waited until Quellan nodded.  “I’ll wait for you outside,” she said.

Caslek waited until the door had swung shut.  “I would very much like to interview your friend, Bredan Karras, as well.”

“Do you know what’s happening to him?” Quellan asked.

“I am not certain.  We have seen cases like this in the past, where a non-practitioner can gain access to power through contact through an eldritch source.  The Mai’i shrines certainly could qualify as such.  Or it could just be that he has a latent arcane connection in his bloodline of which he is not aware, and his gifts are natural.”

“You don’t sound convinced of either theory.”

“I think that the wizards of the Apernium know more than they are saying,” Caslek said.  “I am glad that you have established a friendship with the young man, I believe that he will have an important role in future events.”

“So you do think that the defeat of Murgoth is not the end of this.”

“History does not end, Brother Emberlane.  It continues in an endless cycle.”

“I will talk to Bredan,” Quellan said.  “He has been involved in his own quest for knowledge, but I will pass on your request.”  He started to turn toward the door but paused.

“Was there something else, Brother?” Caslek asked.

“I imagine that you’ve read my file,” Quellan said.

“Yes.”  Caslek turned back to the desk.  “It’s a difficult case.”

“It’s more than that,” Quellan said.  “At least for me.”

“There is not a great deal that I can do in this instance,” Caslek said.  “I may not agree with the decision that was made, but what’s done is done, and there will not be many who are willing to reopen old wounds.  Tradition is to defer to local authorities in such cases, especially when it seems to align with the wishes of the parties involved.”

“You’re saying it was her wish to keep the truth hidden.”

Caslek sighed.  “I’m saying, it doesn’t matter, Brother.  You are who you are, regardless.”

“I should have been told the truth.  I should have known who she was.”

“There will be records.  Not enough to tell the full story of a person’s life, but I can get them for you.”

“Thank you, Loremaster.”

“Quellan.  I hope you can understand… and forgive.  We’re not perfect, you know that better than most.  But there is a place for you here, a place where you belong.  Even before I read your report I had a feeling about you.  The god has marked you out for great things.”

“I’m not interested in accomplishments, Loremaster.”

“Nevertheless, sometimes they are thrust upon us.  Go in peace, brother.”

Caslek waited until Quellan had left and the door had clicked shut, then he went back to his desk.  He leaned against the edge, his brow furrowed in thought.

A few moments later there was another soft click behind him.  One of the bookshelves swung aside, revealing a dark slit behind.  A slightly younger man came into the room.

“What do you think, Korrion?” Caslek asked.

“I think that the wizards are playing with fire,” Korrion said.

“The boy could be key.  Do you really think that the Libram is stirring again?  After all this time?”

“I think we need to be ready if it is,” Korrion said.  “What about Emberlane?  Do you think he’s up to the task?”

“The god is with him,” Caslek said.  “His faith has been shaken, but he is the tool we have in place.  It will have to be enough.”

“If you’re wrong, things could get out of control very quickly.”

“They’re already out of control,” Caslek said.  He smiled wryly.  “All we can hope to do is keep us from going over the cliff.”


----------



## carborundum

Stirring again? Methinks the Libram has already stirred, and is now driving around in Bredan's head!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 150

The tavern was a real dive, but Kosk had been in worse places.  The impressions upon his senses were familiar enough, from the soft clink of bottles and cups to the stink of the bar and its patrons.  The place was less than half full, but it was still early.

“Another?”

Kosk lifted his eyes to see the bartender standing in front of him.  He nodded.  The big human didn’t bother getting a new cup, just poured a splash of amber liquid into his empty one.

The bar hadn’t been built for dwarves, and his chin barely cleared it.  It made it awkward to reach up and grab the cup, but he wasn’t drunk enough yet for it to be an issue.  But before he could swallow the fiery liquor there was another interruption.

“Are you Kosk Stonefist?”

Kosk slowly lowered the cup back to the surface of the bar before he turned toward the man who’d asked the question.

He didn’t look like he fit in this place, or that he was even old enough to drink, for that matter.  But the manner of his clothes, the way he looked, and even the way he spoke was instantly familiar.  The long robe with its ample sleeves was similar to the garb that Kosk had worn until recently.  The burned fragments of that garment were probably rotting in a heap back in the Silverpeak Valley, he thought.

The young monk was trying not to look around at his surroundings while he waited for Kosk to respond.  Probably his first time in a place like this, the dwarf thought.  “What do you want?” he asked.

“I am to give you this,” the monk said, producing a small, tightly-wound scroll from the sleeve of his robe.  When Kosk failed to take it, he placed it on the bar, selecting a spot that was not damp with sweat and spilled liquor.  There was more of the former than the latter; drink cost money.  “Abbot Anaeus would like to you to call upon him at the Monastery of the Quiet Path.  It’s not far from the city, there are instructions within.”  He nodded toward the scroll.

“Quiet Path,” Kosk said with a snort of amusement.

The monk didn’t respond, he just stood there looking uncomfortable.  Finally, Kosk said, “You’ve delivered your message and done your duty, boy.”

The monk offered a curt bow and turned to leave.  But as he stepped away from the bar he nearly collided with a big hulk of a man who’d been making his way there.  From the unsteady way he walked the brute had been drinking longer than Kosk had, but he reacted quickly to the inconvenience even as the monk slid smoothly out of his way.

“Watch where you goin’, boy!” he growled.

“Excuse me, sir,” the monk said, offering a nod that wasn’t deep enough to offer any real courtesy.

Either the drunk sensed some of the insult in the young man’s conduct, or he was just looking for a fight.  “I’ll teach you some manners,” he said, lunging at the monk with a bare-armed sweep.

The monk barely moved, just shifted slightly to the side, but it caused the wild swing to miss him entirely.  “I will be leaving now, sir,” he said, stepping to the other side to avoid his off-balanced stagger.

But the brute wasn’t as drunk as he seemed, or his anger had allowed him to burn through it, for he quickly recovered and came at the monk again, trying to block his escape and pin him against the bar.  For a moment it looked as though he had his quarry trapped, and his lips twisted into a feral grin as he delivered an overhanded strike that might have knocked loose a few teeth if it had connected.  But again the monk shifted, dropping into a smooth tuck that took him out of the path of the attack moments before the big man’s fist slammed into the bar with enough force to knock over several of the cups and bottles resting on its surface.  The bartender spat out a curse as he darted to catch a mostly-full bottle before it could roll of the edge of the bar and shatter on the floor.  A few steps closer to the fight, Kosk watched as his cup fell over onto its side, spilling its contents.

“Bloody hell,” the dwarf said.

“I’ll get you!” the drunk roared.  The hand he’d slammed into the bar was twisted at an unnatural angle, but he hardly seemed to notice it in his rage.  The monk had achieved the center of the room and had fallen into a more obviously defensive stance, his eyes flicking toward the exit as if gauging his chances of reaching it before the brute could launch another assault.

His caution seemed well founded as the big drunkard spun and launched himself again, but he barely managed two steps before Kosk hopped down off his barstool and met him from the side.  The drunk sensed his approach and launched a reflexive attack with his good hand, but the blow never landed.  In a blur of motion the dwarf caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him end-over-end, a rotation that ended with him slamming hard onto the floor.  The drunk clearly felt _that_ impact, but even so he still tried to get up.  Or at least he tried until Kosk stepped forward and delivered an open-palm strike to his face that snapped his head back into the floor.  That time he stayed there, blood seeping through the sides of his shattered nose.

Kosk smacked his hands together and looked up to see the monk staring at him with a stunned look on his face.  “My path isn’t a quiet one,” he said.

The monk’s expression changed briefly before he snapped his head down in another bow.  The look had been there for only a moment, but it was enough to cut through both the drunken haze Kosk had been working on and the edges of his anger that the encounter had stirred.  The dwarf watched as the young man turned and left the tavern.  When he turned back to the bar he mostly just felt empty.

“I think you’ve done enough drinking here,” the bartender said.

“Yeah,” Kosk said as he tossed a few coins up on the bar.  He reached up and grabbed the scroll that the monk had left for him, then followed him out.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 151

Kosk paused to catch his breath as the steep trail reached another switchback, curving back in on itself as part of the long ascent up the mountainside.  It looked like he still had quite a way left to go.  He should have been able to make the climb easily, but he’d let himself go somewhat since their arrival here in Severon, and now he was paying the price.

He adjusted his bracers, reflexively checking the knives tucked into them.  So be it.  He was no stranger to paying the price for mistakes he’d made.

As he turned back to the next stage of the trail he paused to glance back at the city.  He’d already climbed high enough to give him an exceptional view.  Severon was sprawled out across the landscape before him.  The distinctive buildings of the ruling district were instantly obvious.  Kosk could see the Apernium, the Royal Palace, the Great Library, and the other monumental structures that served as testament to the ingenuity and ambition of man.  For a moment the dwarf’s thoughts flashed back to Underhold, but he quickly squashed that impulse and resumed his trek up the path.

He soon came to yet another set of stone steps.  They were ancient, worn smooth by weather and the tread of countless feet.  They were sized for humans, and Kosk found himself annoyed as each one extracted a bit more exertion than was necessary.  He wondered how they got supplies up here; he hadn’t seen any markings or droppings that would suggest the use of mules or other draft animals.  The monks probably had their acolytes lug packs laden with ten stone of grain up the hill as a way of building their bodies and focusing their ki.  There had been plenty of that kind of business back at the monastery in Crosspath.  He had not been an easy student, and for a moment a smile crept across his face at the memory.

He was pulled from his reveries as he reached the top of the steps and a gust of chill wind swept over him.  He looked up and realized that his destination had come into view.  The Monastery of the Quiet Path was not quite at the crest of the peak, instead nestled into a broad gap that would shelter it from the worst of the wind.  A stone wall warded the mouth of that opening, but he could see the peaked wooden roofs of the interior buildings rising behind it.  The largest of those had to be the Great Hall, the curving eaves supporting a tall roof that culminated in a small turret.  That pinnacle likely held the bell that would chime the periods of the day and call the monks to service.

Warring impulses passed through the dwarf for a moment, but finally he lowered his head and resumed his journey.  Another three sets of stairs connected by long stretches of path stood between him and his destination, but now that he’d made his decision the twinges in his legs and the angry tugs of the wind no longer troubled him.

As he drew close to the wall he could see that the front gate, a considerable construction of heavy wooden boards banded in iron, stood open.  It was flanked by banners that were securely attached with iron rods at both top and bottom to the surrounding wall.  They fluttered wildly in the wind, but Kosk could still recognize the standards of the orders they represented.  Despite the sentiment offered by the name of the place, he saw his own order, the Open Hand, included in the tally.

There were no guards visible, and no one appeared to challenge him as he made his way through the open gates.  The main yard was empty, but there was plenty of activity.  The buildings were familiar, in type if not in their architecture, and he quickly identified the living quarters for the acolytes and full initiates, the dining hall, and the workshop.  There were covered gardens and even a greenhouse, though they would still likely have to bring supplies along that long trek up the mountain.  Over it all loomed the mass of the Great Hall, more imposing now that he could see it in its full majesty.  The top of the bell tower had to be at least fifty feet above the packed earth of the yard.  Broad stone steps led up to a pair of entrances that also stood open, letting in the air and light of the day.

Kosk headed in that direction.  A few of the monks noticed him but offered only a brief look and a nod before returning to their labors.  He passed a courtyard where a dozen monks were practicing a kata.  The familiar movements were reassuring.

As he started up the steps that led up to the Great Hall a slender figure emerged from within to greet him.  At first Kosk thought it was the young monk who had delivered the message to him back in the city, but as she stepped forward into the light he saw it was a woman, the first he’d seen at the monastery thus far.  Her hair was trimmed close like the other monks, but she was still beautiful, her features soft and slightly exotic.  As he reached her he was surprised to see that she was an elf, which explained her unusual appearance but not her presence here.  A small emblem of a blooming rose was stitched into the fabric of her robe, a feature that evoked some vague memory that Kosk could not immediately place.

“Thank you for coming, Brother Stonefist,” she said.  “I am Embrae.  Abbot Anaeus is waiting for you in the Chamber of Contemplation.”  She gestured for him to enter, and after a moment he did.

The interior of the hall was dominated by a tall central space that was only sparsely decorated.  Thick wooden pillars rose to support the braces of the ceiling above.  The floors were bare wood polished to a bright shine.  A few iron braziers that were currently unlit flanked a shrine built into one wall.  The sigils of the six orders were present there as well, surrounding an icon that Kosk knew represented the primal energy of life, of _ki_.

“Rather more humble than what you had in Crosspath, I believe,” Embrae said.

“You seem to know a lot about me,” Kosk replied.

“The Abbot has taken an interest in you,” Embrae said.  “He has been engaged in a correspondence with the Abbess Laurine for a number of decades now.  They are good friends, in fact.”

“One doesn’t see many elves in the orders,” Kosk said.  “Must be a story behind that.”

“The same could be said for dwarves,” she said.  “Perhaps we can exchange tales sometime.”

As she spoke the came to another door, the first closed one Kosk had seen since his arrival.  The door was covered in decorative wooden panels that had been painstakingly crafted into intricate scenes.  He might have paused to examine it if the elf woman hadn’t pushed it open, gesturing for him to precede her inside.

The Chamber of Contemplation was similar to a number of such places that Kosk had visited.  There were small shrines in each corner of the room dedicated to the four core elemental forces, the incense burning in the air shrine filling the room with a slight odor of spices.  The back wall of the room consisted of large panels that had been pulled aside to reveal the stark beauty of the day; there must have been a gap there that allowed a view of the surrounding hills.  From that angle Severon was invisible and inaudible, and it was almost possible to believe that they were far from any civilized settlement, bordered only by natural beauty and quiet.

A small wooden platform accessed by a pair of low steps led up to the edge of the overlook.  Seated there was a person who Kosk almost took for a child.  But it turned out to be a halfling, draped in a soft robe that enfolded his diminutive form.  He was small even for that race, his features wizened with age, his scalp hairless and spotted.  He looked as though a stray gust of wind could snatch him up and fling him out through the opening, but when he turned slowly to regard the approaching dwarf there was an intensity in his eyes that held the dwarf like an invisible grasp.

“Thank you, Embrae,” he said.  The elf woman bowed and departed, leaving them alone.

“You wanted to see me,” Kosk said, making it a statement rather than a question.

“Yes,” the old halfling said.  He rose up, slowly, the robe swirling around his withered frame.  “I have been following your progress for some time, Kosk Stonefist.  Word has come to me recently of your adventures in the north.  Of strange discoveries, and ancient powers unlocked.”

“A series of mischances,” Kosk said.

“Really?  Is that what you believe?”

“I don’t know what else to call it.  I certainly wasn’t expecting anything of what happened.”

“Life rarely gives us what we expect.”

“Did you want something from me, Abbot?”

The old man walked past him into the room.  He started toward the fire shrine but paused and turned back to face him.  “You had a staff, did you not?”

Kosk blinked at the unexpected question.  “My old one was pretty wrecked,” he said.  “I haven’t gotten around to cutting a new one yet.”

“There are several fine alder trees here that could serve.”

“Abbot… do you know what it is we found, in the Silverpeak?  This ancient power of which you speak?”

“I sense something… a change in you.”

“But you didn’t know me before.  How can you know what’s different?”

The old man smiled.  It felt odd to Kosk, looking down at someone instead of up, as he gotten used to during his time in the human-dominated lands of Arresh.  “Point acknowledged,” Anaeus said.  “But I can still feel a disequilibrium within you.  A disturbance in your _ki_.”

“My _ki_ has always been unsteady,” Kosk said.  “Mine has not been a quiet path.”

“The imbalance is not in your path,” the old monk said.  “It is within you, and it is building.  It is tied to uncertainty, to anger, to confusion.  Raw emotions.  You are no longer certain of who you are, Kosk Stonefist.  Searching out the answer to that is not something to be feared, but you must be wary.  If you cannot control these feelings, learn to choose your own path, they will control you.”

“I’ve always chosen my own path,” Kosk said.  “I’m here, am I not?  You surely know what I was, before I came here.  To the monastery in Crosspath, I mean.  I gave up that life.”

“Have you?”

“Damn it, what do you want from me?”

The old man came up to him suddenly, quickly enough that Kosk started to take a step back in surprise.  “Take my hand.”

Kosk regarded him for a moment, then did as he was bid.  The halfling’s tiny hand was swallowed up in his thick, calloused mitts.  “Is this a lesson about the power of _ki_ versus physical strength?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Anaeus said, before his grip shifted and he snapped Kosk’s wrist.

“Aaarrggh!” Kosk cried as pain shot up his arm.  He yanked his hand back and stared at the ancient monk with wide eyes.  “What the hells…”

Anaeus held up his hand.  “Assume Crane Stands In the Rushes.”

“What?”

“The stance.  You remember it, do you not?  It is one of the primary forms of the Open Hand.”

“It’s a little hard to do with a broken wrist!” Kosk shot back.

“You’ve fought through worse,” Anaeus said.

Kosk stared at him for a moment, then assumed the stance.  There wasn’t much to it, just a subtle shifting of one’s feet, a straightening of the body.  He tried to move his hands into position, only to grimace as the motion exacerbated his injured wrist.

Anaeus stepped forward and adjusted his other arm, slightly shifted one foot with his.  “Focus.  Concentrate on your core.  Ignore the pain, it is nothing.”

Kosk started to make a sharp retort, but finally he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, settling further into the stance.

“Do you feel the injury?  What is out of alignment?”

“Obviously,” Kosk said.  When Anaeus just stared at him he added, “Yes, I feel it.”

“Correct the misalignment.”

Kosk blinked.  “I’m not a healer…”

He was cut off as Anaeus slapped him across the face.  “You said before that you control your path.  That you are the master of your _ki_.  How can you be either if you are not the master of your own body?  Concentrate.  Focus.  Correct that which is broken.”

There was something insistent, commanding in the old man’s words that Kosk could not disobey.  He focused, and as his concentration pressed inward he felt something.  The pain of his wound was there, of course, but now he could see it as more than just that.  There _was_ an imbalance, a barrier that felt like an obstruction blocking the flow of a river.  Cautiously, not quite sure what he was doing, he reached out with his consciousness and pressed at that barrier.  At first it was implacable, like a stone wall embedded in his awareness, but then it shifted and was gone.  The flow of energy through his body resumed.  He could feel other disruptions deeper within him, buried deep, but for the moment they were out of his reach.

Kosk realized that the pain had disappeared.  Surprised, he opened his eyes and twisted his wrist.  The limb moved normally, as if it had never been injured at all.  “That… what did you…”

“I did nothing,” Anaeus said.  “I merely showed you a new part of the path.  You must still walk it.  And there are difficult stretches ahead, as you seek truth.  Your truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must seek out the elves of Tal Nadesh,” he said.  “There you will find what you need.”

“Tal Nadesh?  That’s a month’s journey from here.  I have obligations here… What’s there?  What do I need to find?”

Anaeus waved a hand, but Kosk pressed forward.  “Look, I don’t like mysteries.  If you know something, just tell me, please.  In plain words.”

“I have no answers for you, brother.”

“How do you know I have to go to Tal Nadesh?”

Anaeus took the last few steps over to the fire shrine.  He waved a hand over the flame burning in the bowl there, causing it to dance and take on strange shapes.  “I myself see only glimpses, fragments of a larger mosaic,” he said.  “Believe me, it can be quite frustrating at times.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Kosk said.

“I sense that a time of crisis is fast approaching.  I suspect that your own personal journey, and that of your friends, is connected to this.  What I have seen suggests that you will have an important role to play, Kosk Stonefist.  I do not know what will happen if you do not go to Tal Nadesh.  Nor can I tell you what you will find when you go there.  I can only tell you that something important awaits you there.  You must choose to walk the path.  In this, I am only a messenger.”

He turned and walked back to the overlook platform.  Kosk just watched him.  He looked down at his wrist, flexed the muscles of his hand, and considered the old man’s words.


----------



## carborundum

Awesome!


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## Lazybones

Thanks for the kudos, and to everyone who's been giving me xp for my updates!

* * * 

Chapter 152

Bredan was asleep when the rattle of the lock pulled him back into awareness.

He tried to drag himself upright as the door to his cell swung upward, but his chains had gotten tangled in his sleep and he could only manage to get to his knees.  He blinked against the light that spilled in from the room beyond, trying to see who was there.

There were two shadowy forms silhouetted in the entry.  In their dark robes and cowls he could not tell if either was his usual jailor, though neither had the look of Pentar.  The two men came forward quickly into the cell.  Bredan tried to flinch back as they reached for him, but the chains and his own weakness prevented him from making more than a feeble display of resistance before they roughly took hold of his arms and pulled him up.

“What…” he tried to say, but the word only came out as a croak from his dry throat.  It felt like it had been days since he’d spilled his last ration of water, but neither of his visitors appeared to be carrying his usual meal.

“We need to move you,” one of the men whispered in his ear.  “You’ll come quietly, or we’ll knock you out and carry you.  You understand?”

Bredan managed a noise that sounded like assent.  One of the men produced a coil of rope.  “Bind his arms behind his back,” the other said.

“Can’t… these bloody shackles…” the man with the rope said.  Bredan could feel the man pulling at him, and he slowly tensed his muscles so there was less give in the chains.  He tried to look past them into the area outside his cell, but his eyes still hadn’t fully adjusted to the intensity of the light.

“Fine, just tie his wrists together,” the first man said.  Even when he wasn’t whispering his voice sounded scratchy, as if something was wrong with his throat.  “We’re going to unlink your shackles, but you give us any trouble and you’ll regret it, hear?”

“I hear you,” Bredan said.  His voice was still rough, but at least the words were comprehensible.

The man with the rope pulled his hands together and fastened his wrists with the rope.  Again Bredan kept his muscles as tense as he could, but it didn’t help much as his captor pulled the ropes tight enough to be painful.  He knew that it would cut off his circulation and could be dangerous with time, but he held his tongue for the moment.  He didn’t know what was going on, but he could read the tension that radiated from his two jailors.  Something was wrong, and it might present an opportunity.

Once his wrists were bound the man with the rope pulled out a heavy key, but before he could start to work the locks on Bredan’s manacles the other man yanked a heavy sack down over Bredan’s head.  The canvas was rough and filled his nostrils with an unpleasant and earthy stink.

With his senses muffled by the sack he knew what was happening only by feel.  His shackles were barely off before his captors seized him again and dragged him toward the door of his cell.  His back scraped the wall as they twisted him aside so they could all fit through the narrow doorway.

He could feel it when they left the cell; a presence that he hadn’t realized was lacking suddenly returned, almost like the rediscovery of an old memory.  He knew at once what it portended, but he resisted the urge to do something reckless.  Instead he tilted his head to the side in an attempt to peer down through the open mouth of the sack.  His efforts weren’t all that successful, but he could just make out his own bare feet and the boots of his captors peeking out from under their robes.

But the motion had also drawn the attention of his escorts.  “I warned you,” the one with the scratchy voice said.  One of his hands dropped off of Bredan’s arm, and he could almost imagine him reaching for a weapon.  The other one’s grip grew taut, perhaps expecting the incoming blow.

Bredan didn’t wait for it to come.  He drew himself forward, leaning into the one who’d spoken, knocking him off balance.  At the same time, he lashed out with his left foot.  He had to guess where the other man was based on the grip and the last glimpse he’d gotten of his feet, but he was rewarded with a cry of pain as the heel of his foot connected with the man’s knee.  The other one snarled something unpleasant, but before he could attack Bredan summoned his magic.

The power, kept away by the wardings that Pentar had mentioned before, came freely now at his call.  He felt a surge of energy fill his body, course into his legs as he thrust his shoulder into his captor’s torso and leapt forward.  The force of the _jump_ spell carried both him and his enemy across the room.  Even as they started to drop they slammed hard into a solid wall.  Bredan was stunned by the impact, but the robed man, caught between the unyielding stone and the mass of his prisoner, let out a grunt and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Bredan fell too, but even as his head swam he reached up and yanked the sack off his head.

His first sight of his prison was less than impressive.  The place was a stone vault, spacious only in contrast to his cell.  The ceiling was heavily buttressed and low enough that Bredan realized he had been lucky that he hadn’t bashed his own head in on his magically-enhanced leap.  The light he’d seen earlier came from an oil lamp stuck in a niche along one wall.  There were two other exits that he could see, a narrow opening in the far wall and a larger, circular passage that extended off to the right.  The sight of it, along with the stale odors that hung thick in the air, offered a clue to where he was.

“Sewers,” he said.  “I must be underneath Severon.”

His attention was drawn back to the man he’d knocked down.  He had struggled back to his feet, favoring his injured leg but clearly not out of the fight.  As he saw Bredan his lips twisted into a snarl, and he drew a dagger with a long, curving blade out from under his robe.  He lurched forward, moving awkwardly on his damaged knee.

Bredan lifted his hands, still bound tightly with rope.  As the robed man came within reach a silvery gleam of light took form in the warrior’s hand, intersecting with his foe’s body as he slashed down.  With only a one-handed grip and his hands numb from the constricting ropes the sword was knocked from his hand by the force of the collision, but the robed man was flung to the floor, blood pouring out form the deep tear in his garments to spread upon the dirty stone blocks.

The curved dagger bounced and landed almost at Bredan’s feet.  He snatched it up and used it to cut at his bonds.  It was awkward and he managed to slash his wrists a few times in the process, but the wounds weren’t severe and could be ignored in the face of everything else he’d experienced.

Just as the ropes were beginning to part he heard something, a series of noises that came from the open doorway in the far wall.  They weren’t that loud, but whatever it was sounded like a significant disturbance.  With a grunt of effort he pulled his abused wrists apart, grimacing as blood rushed back into his hands.  He bent to reach for his sword but was interrupted as a figure ducked through the doorway and stepped into the room.

It was Pentar.  The old man was still wearing his robe, but his cowl was back and the front was open enough for Bredan to recognize the sheen of a mail coat underneath.  He started as he saw Bredan, but his expression darkened as he took in the rest of the scene in the room before his eyes settled upon the sword an arm’s length from Bredan’s outstretched hand.  “Don’t do it,” Pentar warned.  “You have to come with us.  We’re the only ones who can give you the truth you seek.”

“I don’t like your brand of truth,” Bredan said.  He flicked his hands and the sword magically appeared in his grasp, the bare steel blazing in the light from the lamp.

“So be it,” Pentar said.  He did not appear to be armed, but as his right hand came up a weapon materialized in his grasp, a great mace equipped with broad iron flanges.  A faint sound like the vibration of metal being struck in the forge reverberated from the head of the weapon as the old man lifted it into a ready position.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 153

Bredan knew from the first clash of weapons that he was outmatched.

Pentar was old, and he yielded several stone to his foe.  But Bredan had been weakened from his captivity, and he lacked the protection of the armor that his captor wore.

But even beyond that, the man was _fast_.

Bredan had the longer weapon, but Pentar got within his reach before he could get his sword up to block him.  He did manage to meet the first swing of the mace with a reflexive parry, but as the two weapons collided there was a pulse of energy that drove Bredan back several steps.  He might have fallen if he hadn’t hit the back wall of the room.  Pentar was already following up with another powerful swing, but Bredan slid to the side.  The head of the mace struck the wall with enough force to shatter the stone, driving a webwork of cracks through the slab.

Bredan tried to counter before he could recover, but Pentar shifted quickly and deflected the weak stroke with the shaft of his weapon.  Bredan had no choice but to retreat back toward the center of the chamber, careful not to slip on blood of the jailor he’d cut down earlier.

“I regret that it had to come to this,” Pentar said.  “I had hoped there was a chance that you might become one of us.”

“That hope died with Glori,” Bredan snarled.  He feinted to one side and then brought his sword up in a sudden backswing.  The old man was not fooled, and he easily avoided the attack.  Bredan was expecting his counter, but he was caught off guard when Pentar stepped back and held his weapon upright in both hands, the flanged tip just below his face.  The head of the mace seemed to shimmer and blur.

A violent clanging filled the chamber, a sound that felt like all of the bells in the world being rung at once.  Bredan was caught within that pulse, and he was staggered as sonic energy ripped through his body.  Blood began to seep from his nose and ears, and for a moment his vision became clouded behind a haze of red.

Instinct rather than his dazed senses warned him of the coming attack, but while he got his sword up the blow that struck him completely overwhelmed his defenses.  He was knocked over onto his back, his sword flying clear to clatter halfway across the room.  He looked up to see Pentar looming over him, the mace hefted in both hands like a sledgehammer.

“If you will not join us, you cannot be permitted to aid _them_,” he said as he lifted the mace to strike.

Bredan thrust out his hand and summoned a _shield_.  The arcane barrier formed just as the mace struck it.  Bredan had seen it hold off an ogre’s club and withstand the weight of a gigantic beetle, but against this power it cracked and shattered.  But the reverberations from the collision of magics pushed Pentar back a step, giving Bredan a scant second to escape.  But as he scrambled to his feet he realized that he had few options.  Pentar blocked the exit through which he’d arrived, and he could easily shift to intercept Bredan if he made for the sewer pipe.  He saw that recognition in his foe’s eyes as well, an awareness that this could only end one way.

With that realization came a sudden calm, and Bredan stopped his retreat.  Without taking his eyes off of his enemy he held out his hand and prepared to call his father’s sword back to him.

But before he could summon his magic there was an explosion in the room behind the old man.  Flames rushed out through the open doorway, briefly limning Pentar with their glow before they faded.  He stepped back and to the side, giving Bredan the chance to summon his weapon but not leaving an opening for an attack.  For a moment the two of them held their ground, each wary of what this new development portended.

The spell was broken when a dark form staggered through the doorway.  It was a man, clad in the remnant of one of the dark robes.  It was difficult to see more because he was currently on fire, the flames clinging to his ruined garments and licking at his exposed hands and face.  He managed a few steps into the room before he collapsed, his struggles quickly growing feeble before they stopped altogether.

Another heartbeat passed before another form appeared in the doorway.  This one was bigger than the first, so big that he had to twist sideways to make it through the gap.  He was clad in heavy armor, and for an instant Bredan felt a cold feeling in his gut before he recognized the blazon on the newcomer’s shield, and the face that peered out over its edge.

“Quellan!” Bredan cried.  Then, “Look out!”

Bredan lunged forward as the half-orc turned toward Pentar, but the old man’s attack was only a feint.  Even as Quellan got clear of the confines of the doorway he was retreating toward the sewer pipe.  Bredan ran after him, but as the old man ducked into the pipe he reached up and touched a loose brick, activating a hidden catch or trigger.  A heavy iron gate slammed down from above, blocking the mouth of the pipe.  Pentar turned and touched the thick bars for a moment.  He met Bredan’s gaze.

“We are not done, you and I,” he said.

Bredan lunged, thrusting his sword through the bars, but Pentar was already disappearing down the pipe.  He grabbed hold of the gate, tying to lift it, but it didn’t budge.  He could sense the magic that the old man had infused into it, though he didn’t know the exact nature of the spell.

Quellan joined him a moment later.  The half-orc’s armor was smeared with blood, but he did not look to be seriously injured.  “Bredan, are you all right?”

“Yeah.  Thanks for coming for me.  Are Kosk and Xeeta with you?”

“We’re all here.  The others are just cleaning up a few stragglers, but when I heard that blast I had a feeling you were involved.  Do you need healing, are you hurt?”

Bredan started to answer, but his words faded as another figure came through the doorway into the chamber.  As she turned to face him the light from the lamp behind her seemed to form a bright halo around her face.  Her lips twisted into a smile, then an expression of surprise as he came forward and seized her up in a tight embrace.

“Glori,” he said.  “You’re alive.”

“Of course,” she said.

“How…  I saw you go down…”

“Yeah, and I had quite the headache after.  Would have ended up with worse, I think, except that they didn’t gag me when they took me off.  I woke up in a canal boat with two guys looming over me.  Fortunately, they weren’t very bright, and proved quite susceptible to _suggestion_.  Then it was just a question of finding the others, and then finding you.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Quellan said.  “We must have traveled over half the city, if not more.  The wizards gave us a few suggestions of places to look, but it still took a lot of luck.”

“Quellan’s being modest,” Glori said.  “His magic helped us track you… we couldn’t find any trace of you specifically, but Xeeta suggested we try to locate your sword instead, and we finally got a connection.”  Bredan still hadn’t released her, and she patted his arm reassuringly.  “Hey, are you okay?”

Reluctantly, he let her go.  “I am now,” he said.  “I am now.”

“What did they do to you?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “Later.  Later.  What about Xeeta and Kosk?”

“They’re coming,” Glori said.  “They were right behind me but paused to clean up a few of those cultists we ran into.  Most of them weren’t real fighters, they didn’t give us too much trouble.”

“We should make sure they’re all right,” Quellan said.  “And perhaps depart before reinforcements arrive.  A gentleman who I assume is one of the group’s leaders fled right as I got here.”  He looked at Bredan for elaboration, but the young warrior was still distracted.

“Do you know why they wanted you?” Glori asked.  “They sure went through a lot of effort to keep you hidden.”

“I got a few answers,” Bredan said.  “And as soon as I get back to the Apernium, I’m going to get more.”


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## carborundum

Nice one! A weekend without a cliffhanger, you're really spoiling us.


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## Lazybones

I considered ending it with Bredan yelling to Quellan to look out, but figured this had a more natural flow.

I'm almost at the end of book 7. I haven't started book 8 yet, but I've been filling out my outline. Spoiler: it's time to split the party.

This week's posts will have a lot of exposition, but it's time to answer some of the questions raised earlier and to set up the main plot line for the rest of the story.

* * * 

Chapter 154

Glori had known Bredan for a long time, but she had never seen him so angry before.  No, not just angry.  He was _pissed_.

Their bootsteps echoed off of the surrounding walls as they made their way down the vaulted corridor.  They came to a broad set of marble stairs, and without hesitation Bredan started up.  Glori and the others had to hurry to keep up with him.  She felt dirty in clothes stained with sweat and blood and other nastiness from the fighting in the sewers, but Bredan had not been willing to wait even for them to wash up and enjoy a hot meal.  If he hadn’t needed a fresh set of clothes she doubted he would have even agreed to stop at the inn at all.

They made quite a scene, the five of them with their filthy garb and assorted gear.  They’d had to leave their weapons at the main entry, but the wizards’ guards hadn’t otherwise tried to stop them.  With the way Bredan had been acting, she’d thought that maybe they’d all end up getting arrested, but so far it seemed as if the leaders at the Apernium had been expecting their visit.

She felt an echo of some of Bredan’s anger, enough to understand the reasons for it.  On their way here he’d told them some more of what he’d experienced while a captive of the strange cult that had descended from the survivors of the Silver Gauntlet.  She’d felt a pang when he’d revealed how this “Pentar” had told him of her death, and that Bredan had been responsible for it.

The stairs wound around and around, steadily climbing the levels of the tower.  They passed landing after landing, occasionally encountering robed figures who watched their progress without trying to interfere.  Glori glanced over at Bredan, and from the look she saw on his face she could understand their reticence.  Even without his armor and his huge sword he looked dangerous.  He seemed to radiance confidence, driven by his righteous anger.  He projected an air that felt alien to Glori.  Her friend had been changed of late, even before the torture he’d experienced during his recent imprisonment, and she might have feared for the boy she’d known had it not been for the warmth with which he’d embraced her earlier.

She only hoped that he knew what he was doing.  Just because he had a legitimate grievance with the wizards did not mean that they would tolerate anything.

“How many bloody stairs are in this place?” Xeeta asked as they passed still another level.

“This tower is the tallest structure in Severon, so I would imagine the answer is ‘many,’” Quellan said.

“I thought senior wizards were all old,” Xeeta said.  “You’d think they would prefer the ground floor.”

“Perhaps they use levitation, or even teleportation,” Quellan said.  “In any case, in architecture height is a sign of status.”

“Let me guess, there’s a book somewhere entitled, _The Hidden Rules of Buildings_, or somesuch,” Xeeta said.

“Well, actually…”

“It doesn’t bloody matter,” Kosk said, cutting the two of them off.

“You never told us where you’d been the last few days,” Glori said over her shoulder.

“No, I didn’t,” Kosk said.

Any possible follow-up was preempted as they came to the end of the staircase.  There was still another landing there, with a corridor that curved around the outer wall of the tower.  But directly in front of them was a pair of tall, ornate doors decorated with what Glori judged to be an excess of gilt.  Gregoros Konstantin was standing next to them, apparently awaiting their arrival.

Bredan went right up to the wizard.  “You know why I’m here,” he said.

Konstantin inclined his head.  “A Circle has been assembled.  If you’ll come with me.”

He gestured, and the double doors swung open.  Bredan barely waited until they were out of his way before he strode forward into the chamber beyond.  Glori followed close behind, ready to intervene if the situation warranted.  She did not know what a “Circle” was, but it sounded portentous.

After just a few steps she came to a stop, taken aback by what she saw.

From its size and the curve of the back wall, the chamber had to take up almost the entirety of this level of the tower.  The peaked ceiling was at least thirty feet above them, supported by elaborate curving buttresses that looked almost architecturally impossible.  Tall windows let in generous amounts of light, though there were dozens of glowing mage-lamps to augment that and ensure that not even the deepest corner was hidden in shadow.  The room itself was arranged in the style of an amphitheater, with raised tiers that followed the curve of the outer wall, forming a semicircle that faced a raised dais ten paces across in the center of the chamber.  The tiers were populated with an assortment of padded benches and small writing desks, along with the occasional framed wooden booths that likely were reserved for individuals of particular prominence.

Those tiers all appeared to be empty at the moment, as the people waiting for them were gathered around a six-sided table situated on the edge of the central dais.  There were twelve chairs around the table, three of which were occupied as they came in.  Glori didn’t recognize any of them, but all had the look of what she imagined to be the archetype of a wizard.  The man and woman were both old and dignified in their ornate robes and snowy white hair, but she was surprised to see that the third member of the Circle was a gnome, tiny within the oversized chair, his bushy white eyebrows and broad mustache bristling around the protruding mass of his nose.  Glori could feel the collective weight of their combined stares as they fixed them upon the intruders.  Even Bredan had been given pause by that intensity, she noted, but he quickly recovered and after hunching up his shoulders strode over to the dais to meet them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 155

Konstantin quickly stepped in and began making introductions.  The old man was Administrator Tamrek; the woman to his right Arcanist Javerin.  Both offered only neutral stares as their names were given.  By contrast, the gnome, who Konstantin introduced as Gavelmaster Ostrick, bowed his head in greeting and regarded them with a sly smirk that suggested he knew more than he let on.

Once the Circle had been introduced, Konstantin in turn presented each of them to the waiting wizards.  He gave their full names except for Xeeta, who he introduced as “Xeeta of Li Syval.”  Glori thought she detected some subtle reaction at that, a hint of shared significance.  From what Xeeta had told her of the cult that had raised her, and the obvious connections to what had happened in the Silverpeak Valley, she could guess as those associations.  But they’d already gone over all of that during the long interviews that had followed their immediate arrival in Severon.

But it was clear from Bredan’s manner that something had changed, at least for him.  He stood rigid during the introductions and barely waited until the last was made before he stepped forward.  But Quellan, perhaps also sensing his friend’s explosive mood, spoke first.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” the cleric said.  “We thought that it was important to…”

“We want answers,” Bredan interjected.  “No more bull.”

“Ware your tone,” Javerin said.  But Tamrek shifted a hand in what must have been a signal, for Konstantin quickly added, “We will tell you what you want to know.  But please, be seated.  There is no need for shouting or rude behavior.”

The companions came forward and took the seats that faced across the table at the wizards.  Konstantin came around to join them, taking the seat to Ostrick’s left.

Glori was quick to take the chair to Bredan’s right, even as Quellan seated himself at their friend’s other side.  It was a gesture of support, though the need to keep the suddenly volatile young man under control was definitely also in their minds.  As Glori pulled her chair back she caught a glimpse of something else; there was another person present in the room.  The watcher was on the highest tier that circled the room, behind the last row of padded benches in the gallery.  He stood in the shadow of one of the curving buttresses that rose to support the ceiling.  He was wearing a coat that partially concealed his tunic, including the insignia stitched into his collars, but she could guess who he was from the colors he wore.  The presence of a representative of the King at this meeting inserted an added significance, and she wished again that they could have taken some time to talk and consider the consequences of what had happened before pushing this meeting.  On the other hand, the wizards did appear to be off-balance, at least at the moment, so maybe Bredan’s instincts were correct.

“We were relieved to learn that you had been recovered safely,” Konstantin said once they were all settled into their seats.

“You used me and my friends to take out Pentar and his organization,” Bredan said.  Glori could just hear a soft sign from Quellan on the warrior’s far side, but her attention was focused on the wizards.  They were good at controlling their expressions—all save for Ostrick, who continued to look mildly amused—but she could sense the intensity coming off them.

“They were terrorists,” Javerin said.

“They may very well have been,” Quellan said.  “But we haven’t been given enough information to judge.  There are powers at work here that we do not understand, and that is why we have come to you.”

“We did urge you to be patient,” Konstantin said, his tone conciliatory.  “And not to pursue dangerous—”

“I’m done with being patient,” Bredan said over him.  “I want answers about what’s going on here.  It’s all connected… Pentar, what’s been happening to me… even all that business with the war and Kavel Murgoth is connected, somehow.  I deserve to know what you know.  And if you won’t tell me, I’ll seek those answers elsewhere.”

“We are not accustomed to being threatened in our own stronghold,” Javerin said.  But her anger had already ebbed, and she and the other wizards were quick to turn their attention to Tamrek, who was obviously the senior figure present.  Glori shot a quick look up at their unintroduced guest up in the gallery, and noticed that he too had shifted, betraying a suddenly increased interest in the proceedings.

Bredan seemed to pick up on that as well, for he focused an unblinking stare at the Administrator.  Finally, Tamrek gave a slight nod, a signal that had Konstantin turning back to them again.  The wizard folded his hands together in front of him on the table and took a deep breath, as if to gather himself.

“I told you before that I was sent to find you specifically,” Konstantin began.

“I remember,” Bredan said.

“What I didn’t tell you was who sent me.”

“I assume that the answer to that is connected somehow,” Bredan said.

Konstantin straightened, and a hint of the edge that had suffused the attitude of the other wizards appeared in his manner.  “What we’re about to tell you is confidential, and not to leave this room,” he said.  “This is not merely for our convenience.  The secrecy is for your own safety and that of others, as you will soon learn.  There are only a few individuals within the kingdom who know this information.  The King and a few of his agents, and a few high officials in the leading churches, including the church of Hosrenu.”

Glori resisted the urge to look over at Quellan.  Her eyes did flick briefly up to the gallery, but nothing had changed in her view of the royal observer.

“Once I continue, the five of you will be added to the circle of those who know,” Konstantin went on.  “If you share any of what I am about to tell you, the consequences will be immediate and severe.  Do you understand and accept these conditions?”

“You’re asking me to swear an oath without knowing what I’m swearing to,” Bredan protested.

“Nevertheless, you will swear––all of you—or this meeting is over,” Javerin said.

There was a moment of silence that stretched out between them.  Glori looked over at her companions, her friends.  Kosk looked distracted, and Xeeta determined.  Quellan looked concerned, but Glori knew that he would not be able to resist the lure of new knowledge, or the mystery that the wizard had evoked with his words.  Maybe that had been deliberate, she thought.

But her focus was on Bredan, who continued staring across the table at the wizards.  “I swear that no one will learn of your secret from me,” he said.  “Is my word sufficient, or do you require blood?”

Glori had an image of him summoning his huge sword and laying it on the table in front of them, but the elder wizard spoke, the first words he’d offered since the start of the meeting.  “You are bound to us, now.  Your fate shall be tied to ours, such as it shall be.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 156

Tamrek’s words had cast a pall over the gathering, but after a moment’s pause Konstantin continued his tale.

“There exists a book of magic,” Konstantin continued.  “It has many names.  We called it the Elderlore Libram.  In some accounts it is referred to as the Tome of Secrets.”

“I have heard the latter name,” Quellan said.  “But only as a vague legend.”

“We have preferred that it remain that way,” Konstantin said.  “But in this case, the legends only impart a small fraction of the ultimate truth.”

“The book is incredibly ancient,” the wizard went on.  “The consensus of the scholars among us is that it was written several thousand years ago, during the height of the Mai’i Empire.  There are some fairly definitive records that reference it from that era, at least.  Some say it is even older than that, and that it existed when the Mai’i first established the kingdom that would grow, over the course of three thousand years, into the Empire.”

“That’s pretty old,” Glori said.

The Gavelmaster continued the account.  “When the Mai’i fell, the book was lost,” the aged gnome said.  “But it turned up again some centuries ago, on the Weltarin continent.”

“The new lands?” Glori said.  “But… how did it even get there?  The first expeditions to the other continent didn’t even happen until the Mai’i were long gone.”

“We do not fully understand it ourselves,” Konstantin said.  “But the early explorers found ruins of an ancient civilization on Weltarin that date back thousands of years.  The Libram was found in one such place by a Syvalian explorer.”

Several sets of eyes flicked briefly to Xeeta, before Konstantin continued.

“The book passed through several sets of hands before it ended up in Arresh.  We tried to piece together the histories of those to whom it traveled before it found its way to us, but the only common thread that we could gather was that all of them perished in an unusual and notable manner.”

“Wait a moment,” Glori said.  “What _is_ this book, exactly?  What’s in it?  Is it some kind of spellbook or something?”

Konstantin nodded as if he’d expected the question.  “Of sorts.  The Libram is a collection of ancient lore.  Magical knowledge of incredible richness and detail.  The book contains an incredible number of secrets of the multiverse and how it functions.”

“Multiverse?” Kosk asked.

“Planar lore,” Quellan said.  “Otherworldly entities; gods, demons, and everything in between.”

“So summoning spells and the like,” the dwarf said.

“That is definitely part of it,” Konstantin said.  “Though that is only a fraction of what the book includes.”

“If it’s as old as you say, it must have been really hard to decipher,” Glori suggested.

There was a pause, then a meangingful side-glance between the wizards.

“Go on,” Bredan said.  There was more than a hint of command in his voice, and again Glori started at the changes her friend had undergone since they’d set out from Crosspath what seemed like so long ago.

“Part of the nature of the book is that it wants to be understood,” Konstantin finally said.

“You speak almost as if it is alive,” Xeeta said.

“Not precisely,” Konstantin said.  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “The book came to us at a critical time for the kingdom, and for the entire continent, really,” Konstantin said.  “Its power was instrumental in the defeat of the Dead King.  The histories focus on the physical might of the Three Armies—humans, elves, and dwarves, all working together—but in the end it was potent magic that enabled us to overcome the dark power of the death lords.”

“But the alliance didn’t last very long, once the threat was over,” Quellan said.

“No.  The Libram, in fact, was part of the reason.  It was too rich a prize, and the elves and dwarves feared what might happen if the human kings were allowed to maintain permanent possession of the artifact.”

“So it’s got some powerful spells in it,” Bredan said.  “You still haven’t answered Xeeta’s question.”

Javerin replied before Konstantin could craft an answer.  “The contents of the book change,” she said.  “It rewrites itself.  That’s how we could read it despite the gap in language.  The text shifts to suit the needs of the user.  Sometimes in ways she may not even consciously understand.”

“It is intelligent?” Quellan asked.  “Is that even possible?”

“I do not think it is intelligent in the way that we think of the term,” Konstantin said.  “But the wizards who worked with it quickly learned that the text would read differently based on the reader.  The differences were subtle at first but became more significant over time.  Over time, they also began to notice changes in those who used it frequently.”

“What kind of changes?” Glori asked.

“Shifts in mood.  Odd behaviors.  In a few cases, symptoms of mental illness.  Those closest to the book seemed to become almost addicted to it, as if it was some sort of drug that they came to crave.  There was more than one attempt to steal it.  There are some accounts that suggest that the disease that claimed King Alephron’s mind was related somehow to the book.  There are multiple accounts of him consulting it repeatedly in the latter stages of the war.”

“You couldn’t control it,” Bredan said.  “Its knowledge, the power it represented, it was too dangerous.”

“The alliance—already starting to fragment at this point—agreed that the book was too dangerous to leave freely accessible.  Alephron’s son, King Galvis, knew that his people could not withstand another war, not so soon after the suffering wrought by the Dead King’s minions.”

“The leaders of the three nations collaborated in one final task, an effort that would remain secret to all but a very few.  They sealed the Libram in a magical vault, hidden under Severon.  The dwarves built the place, using all of their canny knowledge of engineering.  The elves provided a potent warding, a living magic that sustained itself against intrusion.  The humans pledged to guard the site, keeping the place secret and secure against a future date when the power of the book might be needed again.  Those protections have never failed, and remain in place to this day.”

“If this vault is so secure, how did they plan to get it open again, if and when this future danger appeared?” Glori asked.

“The creators of the vault also created a magical key in three parts, all of which were needed to bypass the physical and magical locks and open it.  One of the pieces of the key went to each of the three races.  This way, they would all have to agree in order to access the interior of the vault and the book.”

“If these seals are so strong, how do you even know the book’s even in there?” Bredan asked.

“The creators of the vault added one final feature,” Konstantin said.  “The highest wizards among both the elves and the humans collaborated to create a magical tablet.  They called it the Revelation Stone.  The Stone was connected to the Libram, a binding that remained in force even after the doors of the vault were sealed and the warding put in place.  The Stone was installed outside the vault.  It allowed wizards to inscribe queries upon the Stone, and the Libram would respond.”

“Communication!” Quellan exclaimed.  “That would indicate intelligence, would it not?”

“The exchanges were not true conversations,” Javerin said.  She seemed to be getting irate at the length of Konstantin’s explanation.  “The Stone was more of an index, to allow the wizards to access the knowledge in the book.”

“How did you keep all of this secret?” Quellan asked.  “There must have been hundreds if not thousands of people involved in this project.  The construction of this vault alone… people tend to notice large construction projects taking place in their neighborhood!”

“There was still a lot of rebuilding going on in the aftermath of the war, so there were ample opportunities to conceal the true purpose of the work.  But you’re right, it was quite difficult, at least early on,” Konstantin acknowledged.  “But as the years crept on into decades, and the decades into centuries, people went about their lives and forgot about the Libram.  The wizards of the Apernium were responsible for maintaining the guard on the vault, and they knew that obscurity was as useful a tool as armed sentries.”

“But you had the sentries as well,” Bredan said.

“Yes,” Konstantin said.

“A specialized force, to guard the vault where you kept your book hidden.”

“It was not ‘our’ book, but yes,” Konstantin said.  “And before you ask, yes, that was the genesis of the Silver Gauntlet.”

There was a moment of silence at that announcement, as the companions digested that nugget of information.  Finally Glori asked, “So what went wrong?”

“I’m sorry?” Konstantin asked.

“Obviously something went wrong, or we wouldn’t be here talking about this,” Glori said.  “So what happened next?”

“For centuries, nothing happened,” Konstantin said.  “Only a very few individuals within the Apernium even knew of the vault, and just a handful were authorized to use the Revelation Stone.  Occasionally an emissary from the dwarves or elves came to Severon to petition the king for access, a right included in the secret addendum to their final treaty.  But the Stone proved to be an imperfect medium for transmitting information.  Without the direct connection between the book and its user, the lore it provided was fragmentary and confusing.  The elves and dwarves accused the humans and each other of interference, but ultimately they had to admit that the flaws were inherent in the nature of their construction.  For a time, it looked as though they might agree to reopen the vault, but as the relations between the three nations continued to decline the likelihood of that faded.  With each passing decade there were fewer visits to the vault, and finally none at all for over a century, except by its guardians.”

“The Gauntlet,” Glori said, with a glance over at Bredan.

“Yes,” Konstantin said.  “The trouble began with some of the guardians of the vault.  They began acting… strangely.  Eventually a faction within the Gauntlet formed a plot to break into the vault and steal the Libram.”

“How could they get into it, without the key?” Glori asked.  “You said the place was impenetrable, between the dwarven engineering and the elves’ magic.”

“Nothing’s impenetrable,” Kosk said.  “If living hands built it, living hands could find a way to get through it.”

“We never did learn the full details of the plot, or how they intended to bypass all of the protections of the vault,” Konstantin said.  “The plot was revealed before its leaders could put their plans into effect.  It was loyal members of the Gauntlet who eventually detected the treason and brought into the attention of the wizards.  One of those loyal ones was your father, Bredan.”

“And you rewarded him by throwing him out,” Bredan said.

“It was not that simple,” Konstantin said.  “Your father chose to leave, after the Gauntlet was disbanded.  He was still young, and we would have found him something else, another outlet for his skills, but he’d done his duty and wished to move on with his life.”

“So, since you disbanded the Gauntlet, who’s been guarding the book?” Glori asked.

“We’ve shifted to magical surveillance of the vault,” the Gavelmaster said.  “Augmented by more mundane security measures.  We still have guards, they just keep their distance.”

“And you’re not concerned about having something in your city that makes people go bleeding nuts?” Kosk asked.

“With all due respect, I think we have more expertise in the matter than you, master dwarf,” Javerin said dryly.

“What made you decide to track my father down again?” Bredan asked.

“Excuse me?” Konstantin asked.

“I assume that’s how you found me,” Bredan said.  “You said that you had been sent to find me specifically, both in the Silverpeak and just now, at the start of the meeting.”

“Ah,” Konstantin said.  “No, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you meant, then,” Bredan said.  “Why am I so important?  Why did you come looking for me?”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 157

The wizards shared another look before Konstantin responded.  “A few months ago, a periodic visit to the outer chamber in the vault found that a message had appeared on the Revelation Stone.  It was the first known communication from within the vault in over sixty years, and the first on record when no question had first been posed.  The following words were etched into the surface: ‘Bredan Karras, Crosspath.’  The tablet itself was cracked.  I was personally part of the team that confirmed that the enchantment upon the object was gone, ruined.”

“But the vault remained intact?” Xeeta asked.

“As far as we can tell, the physical seals and the magical wards are as strong as ever,” Konstantin said.

Bredan had grown pale; Glori reached over and took his hand in hers.  “So… you’re saying that these messages I’ve been getting… the magic, the changes that have been happening to me… it’s all from some weird ancient book?”

“We don’t know that,” Javerin said.  “The Libram should not be able to affect the reality outside of the Vault at all.”

“Tell that to those guys from the Silver Gauntlet,” Kosk said.

“This is different,” Javerin insisted.  “If such a connection happened—”

“If?” Kosk spat.

“If such a connection happened,” the wizard continued, “It happened over time through close proximity.  We’re not saying there’s no connection; we wouldn’t be telling you all this if we didn’t think there was.  But it’s more likely that the power that is being revealed in the world of late… the power in this shrine you encountered, the remnants of the Eth’barat and other Mai’i legacies… that power and the book are all part of the same phenomenon.  The Libram is a lens into a greater reality, a window that has been closed to us for a long time now.”

“But why is this power stirring now?” Quellan asked.  “The Libram has been sealed away for centuries, and there have been plenty of treasure-hunters combing the wilds looking for the fabled lost lore of the Mai’i.  You can’t say it’s just a coincidence that Bredan picked up a book when he did, or that he just happened to be the son of one of the Libram’s former guardians.”

“We are well past the point of believing in coincidences,” the Gavelmaster said.

“I’m only a guest here,” Xeeta said.  “But it seems like it’s past time that you took a look inside that Vault.”

“The thought had occurred to us,” Konstantin said.

“What about Pentar?” Bredan interjected.  “How does he and his band of crazy bastards fit into all of this?”

“We’ve believed for a long time that there was still a remnant of the Gauntlet operating within Severon,” Konstantin said.  “For years there was no indication that they were still active, but of late there have been a few rumblings through our network of contacts, nothing definitive.”

“So you figured Bredan and Glori could do you a solid by flushing them out,” Kosk said.

“That was not our intent,” Javerin said.  “We told you not to do anything until our investigations and testing were complete.”

“Let’s leave that aside for the moment,” Glori said, before Bredan could respond.  “What more can you tell us about this ‘Pentar’?  Bredan said he had magic like his, that he conjured a weapon out of thin air.”

“He was old, but he was good,” Bredan said.  “Very good.”

“If you’d had your armor and been fresh, you could have taken him,” Glori said, but Bredan did not respond.

“He must have been a young man, back when the Silver Gauntlet was dissolved,” Quellan said.  “To spend forty years chasing a dream of power…”

“It’s not a dream,” Bredan said.

“I didn’t mean…”

“He said he knew my father,” Bredan said.  “That he knew what was happening to me.  He said that I was not his enemy.  He said that it was the wizards who were lying to me.”

There was a long moment’s pause.  “What do you think?” Konstantin asked.

“What was my father’s real name?” Bredan asked.

This time Konstantin did not stop to look at his colleagues before responding; all four of the wizards sat united against Bredan’s harsh stare.  “Your family name was Karrathas,” Konstantin said.  “Your father likely changed it to escape notice when he left the capital.  I was telling you the truth when I said that we had no idea who you were when we first saw your name printed on the Stone.  It was only later in our investigations that we found out the nature of your bloodline and the connection to the Libram.”

Bredan sagged in his chair, breaking his connection with the wizards for the first time since he’d entered the room.  For a moment they all just watched him.  Then his hand tightened on Glori’s, an acknowledgement of the support she’d lent to him.

“They took me prisoner,” he said.  “They told me I’d killed by best friend.  I’d have killed Pentar, if I could have.”  His head came up again, and if the edge in his gaze had eased, there was still a cold determination there.  “But with that said, you haven’t exactly earned my trust.”

“I hope that you will give us a chance,” Konstantin said.  “If what’s happening to you is in fact connected to the Libram, then we’re both looking for the same answers.  And the answers to those questions could prove to be of critical importance to the whole kingdom, any beyond.”

“So, what happens now?” Glori asked.

“Your colleague’s suggestion earlier is a point that has been the source of much discussion,” Konstantin said.  “There are difficulties involved in accessing the vault, of course.”

“I don’t imagine the elves and dwarves would be willing to just hand over their keys, given the current nature of the relationship between the three nations,” Quellan said.

“Indeed, that is the crux of the matter,” Konstantin said.

“Can I see it?” Bredan asked.  “The Vault.  I know you can’t get inside, but I’d still like to see it, the outer part at least.”

Konstantin deferred to the others, and finally Tamrek inclined his head.  “We will make arrangements,” the younger wizard said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 158

When the huge stone doors began to shake, the hidden mechanisms working for several moments before the giant slabs began to split apart, Glori could not help but be impressed.  The doors opened slowly, ponderously, as if resisting yielding up what they protected.

It had been two full days after their meeting with the Circle before the wizards had summoned them again.  It had occurred to Glori that they might have been trying to put them off, and she’d worried that Bredan might react poorly to the delay.  But her friend seemed calmer now, as though the wizards’ revelations had taken something out of him.  She’d offered to talk it out with him, but he hadn’t been interested.

She’d spent the added free time training.  With Bredan apparently interested only in solitude she’d sought out a martial instructor she’d met earlier during their stay, a veteran swordsman who offered private lessons primarily to the extra children of the local nobility.  He was able to fit in several sessions that were enough of a strain to allow Glori to forget all that was looming over them, at least for a little while.  The instructor, Garrett, offered praise for her speed and skill, but she couldn’t help but think back on all that they had faced and what dangers might lie ahead.

The doors were still leisurely grinding open.  Glori could see now that they were very thick.  She glanced over at Bredan, who even now remained a few steps apart from the rest of them, subtly separated from the group.  He’d taken advantage of the delay to buy a new suit of chain mail and have it fitted.  Glori had to admit that he looked more like himself in it, even though both she had Quellan had left their armor behind along with their weapons.  Maybe to him this little expedition was no different from the many dangerous situations that they’d faced together.  Glori herself felt a bit naked without her lyre, but Konstantin had been very explicit about what they would be allowed to bring with them into the underground complex where the Vault was situated.

Perhaps sensing her attention, Bredan briefly looked over at her.  Glori tried to give him a reassuring smile, but no doubt he could sense the concern in her eyes.  For a moment he looked uncertain, but then his jaw tightened and he turned his attention back to the slowly-widening gap in front of them.

Konstantin didn’t wait until the doors were fully open before he led them forward.  The wizard carried a traditional oil-based lantern, a contrast to the magical lights commonly used throughout the Apernium, and a reminder that the place they were visiting was not typical.  The wizard had warned them against trying to cast spells in this place, noting that the wards crafted by the elves centuries ago could react strongly to such attempts.

Glori was not interested in casting spells.  She was worried about Bredan, and what he might find in this dark and alien place.

After the guards they had passed to get here, the various barriers that had culminated in the vast stone doors still grinding open behind them, the outer chamber of the Vault seemed less than impressive, even mundane.  It was fairly spacious, and Glori could still make out faint marks where additional furniture had likely once stood.  That was consistent with the wizards’ tale of pulling out all the inner security after the rebellion by the Silver Gauntlet, those trusted to keep vigil over this place.  The thought of spending long periods of time in this room made her shudder.

She went over to Bredan, who was staring at the inner wall of the Vault.  It didn’t look like much, just another wall made up of the same huge slabs of stone that constituted the rest of the complex.  If there was another door or hatch or something she couldn’t see it.  There was a low platform just off to the side.  Konstantin had headed over in that direction, obscuring her view of what was there.

“What is it?” Glori asked, her voice little more than a whisper.  Somehow in this place it didn’t seem right to disturb the quiet.  Even Kosk seemed uncharacteristically pensive.  “Do you sense something?”

“No,” Bredan said.  “I sense… _nothing_.  It’s a bit… eerie.”

“That word seems apt here,” Xeeta said.  She had left her rod and her amulet behind, but her left hand kept drifting to her throat seemingly of its own accord, as if expecting to find the latter there.  After seeing her for so long in her altered form it was a little jarring to see her natural features, Glori thought.

“Over here,” Konstantin said, calling them over to the platform.

As she approached Glori could see more of it.  The platform itself was made of wood, the slabs thick but otherwise unremarkable.  But at its center there was an opening through which a pedestal of dark stone rose to slightly above waist height.  The top of the pedestal was beveled so that what it supported faced into the room.

From the wizards’ briefing she’d expected a book, and at first glance the object somewhat resembled one.  But the heavy leather sheath that surrounded the Revelation Book was more of a cover in the traditional sense of the word, and it came away completely when Konstantin tugged gently at it.

The interior of the book was a broad slab of pale stone as wide as her forearm, with a grainy texture that set it apart from the pedestal and the rest of the construction of the room.  Its outer frame was coated in a rime of bright silvery metal, as though the entire thing had been dipped into a molten font during its construction.  Perhaps it had, Glori thought.  The thing in front of her was hundreds of years old, but the metal shone brightly in the light from Konstantin’s lamp, as if had been forged yesterday.  But there was damage, and as she drew closer she could see a deep crack that extended across the face of the tablet.  A complex landscape of subsidiary cracks spread from that initial point of disruption.  It looked almost as though the thing would fall apart if disturbed.

Bredan stepped forward, and for a moment it looked like he was going to finish the job of ruining the ancient artifact.  But he only reached out a hand, indicating a set of marks along the top of the tablet that Glori had missed at first.  She edged to stand beside him.  She leaned in to to read the writing, already knowing what it would say.

_Bredan Karras, Crosspath_.

The words were etched into the stone, the letters smoothly formed as if written by a quill on parchment instead of hacked by a chisel.  Bredan let his fingertips slide over them, his lips moving soundlessly to form the words.  Glori watched him, put a hand on his arm for support, but after a few moments he just turned away and stepped clear to let the others take a look.  Konstantin just stood there, holding up the lamp so they could see.

“What about the keys?” Kosk asked the wizard.  “I don’t see any locks or other mechanisms here.  Or are they hidden?”

“There is more machinery built into the walls, or so I understand from the ancient accounts,” Konstantin said.  “But the keys—or rather the key, as the three pieces all form part of a whole—operate more as a trigger than like a mundane object working a lock.  In essence, this entire place is the lock.”

“And the book, this Libram, it’s on the other side of this wall?” Xeeta asked.

“According to everything we know,” Konstantin said.

“A hedging answer,” Kosk noted.

“It’s there,” Bredan said.  The others all turned to look at him, but he was walking away, not even glancing at the interior wall.

“Bredan?” Glori asked.

“I can feel it,” Bredan said.  “It’s waiting for us.”

Glori looked back at Konstantin, but if the wizard was alarmed by the warrior’s words he was keeping it well hidden.  “So, what do we do next?” she asked.

“We’ve sent messages to the elven and dwarven courts,” the wizard said.

“That could take a while,” Quellan said.  “They’re not exactly close to Severon.”

“We have means of communication left over from the days of the alliance,” Konstantin said.  “The difficulty is not in sending messages.  Rather, it’s in getting them to respond.”

“Did you tell them what’s been going on?” Glori asked.

“They are not ignorant of the broader course of events,” Konstantin said.

“Another wizard-answer,” Kosk said.

“Have you told them about the spellcasters involved with Murgoth’s forces?” Quellan asked.  “The sources of power we found in the Silverpeak Valley, and elsewhere?”

“They may already know some of it,” Glori said.  “Remember Starfinder, all the way back in Crosspath?  She was an elf.”

Konstantin looked like he was about to say something, but he was interrupted by the distant sounds of the outer door opening, followed by the tread of someone approaching swiftly from the main corridor.

The companions all turned as one toward the entry.  Glori noted that Bredan’s hands twitched, almost as if he was considering summoning his sword.  She wondered if his power would work here.

Konstantin did not appear to be alarmed, though he too looked surprised at the interruption.  He stepped forward just as the woman wizard from the Circle, Javerin, appeared at the opening in the outer doors.  From her slightly disarrayed hair she’d been running, but she quickly regathered her usual gravitas.

“What’s happened now?” Kosk asked.

Javerin barely acknowledged the dwarf with a flick of her eyes before focusing her attention on Konstantin.  “We’ve had a response to our diplomatic queries,” she said.

“The elves, or the dwarves?” Glori asked.

“Both of them,” the wizard replied.


----------



## Lazybones

Today's post marks the end of Book 7 of the story. Book 8 begins Monday.

* * * 

Chapter 159

Their second meeting with the Circle was in rather plainer surroundings.  The small meeting room was located on the first floor of the great tower, with only a single window that opened onto an empty courtyard.  Tamrek and Ostrick were already waiting for them when they arrived, and Konstantin and Javerin went immediately to join them around the central table.  The gnome was taking notes in a leather folio as they entered, which he closed as the others came in.

“No observers today?” Xeeta asked.

“Messengers have been sent to the Palace and the Aureate Circle,” Ostrick said.  “But we thought it might be useful to discuss a few matters with you first.”

“The fact that the elves and dwarves responded so close together,” Quellan said as the companions took the vacant seats around the table.  “Does that suggest that they have been communicating—and coordinating—amongst themselves?”

“It could just be a coincidence,” Konstantin pointed out.

“Nothing else has been thus far,” Kosk said.

“During the days of the Alliance, relations between the elves and dwarves were poor,” Ostrick said.  “There is a long historical antipathy between the two nations.”

“Perhaps having a common rival has brought them together,” Xeeta suggested.

“Arresh is hardly a rival,” Konstantin said.

“The kingdom has expanded the most since the days of the Dead King,” Quellan said.  “The borders of the elven and dwarven kingdoms have remained more or less static.  There may not have been any direct clashes, but they cannot help but note that, even leaving aside the issue of the humans’ control over the Libram.”

“A control that seems doubtful at the moment,” Glori said.  “That could have them worried.”

“Maybe you’d better just tell us what they said,” Kosk said.  “Javerin wouldn’t tell us anything on the way over here.”

“For now, we are being cautious about who knows about this,” Ostrick said.

“Word will get out,” Glori said.

“That is likely,” Konstantin.  “But even so attention to security is prudent.”

“Well, we’re in a secure room now, presumably,” Kosk said.  “You wouldn’t have brought us here if you didn’t have something to say.  Let’s start with the elves.”

Ostrick opened his book and briefly consulted his notes.  “We were contacted by an official of the elvish court, name of Majerion.”

Glori felt a cold fist clench in her gut.  She didn’t think she’d betrayed anything in her face, but before the gnome could continue Tamrek said to her, “You know him?”

“Yes,” Glori said.

“I’ve heard you mention his name a few times,” Quellan said.  “He was your mentor, wasn’t he?”

Glori could feel her heart racing, but she willed her features to remain calm.  “Yes, that is true.”

“Would you say that he is an honest man, in general?” Konstantin said.

“I have never known him to say anything untrue,” Glori said.  _That didn’t stop him from abandoning me,_ she didn’t add.

“That’s good, having a personal link might be useful,” Konstantin said.

“We have another one, a person here in Severon who has a connection to the elvish royal house,” Javerin said.

“You are from Tal Nadesh, are you not?” Tamrek asked.

“I was born there,” Glori said.  “Not in the city, one of the border settlements.  But I left when I was very young, and haven’t been back.”

“Do you wish to return?” the aged wizard prodded.

The others are looked at her, but it was Tamrek’s gaze that held her.  There was more to that question than it first seemed, and she wondered just how much the wizards knew about her past.  “I would like to go,” she heard herself saying.

“Are you sure?” Bredan asked.  If the wizard’s eyes held judgment, Bredan’s held quiet support.  Glori took his hand and squeezed it.  “Yes,” she said.

“I will go to Tal Nadesh as well,” Kosk said.  Glori turned to the dwarf in surprise, but his expression held only firm commitment.

“We’ll all go,” Bredan said.

“That cannot be,” Tamrek said.

“Why not?” Bredan asked.

Tamrek nodded toward Ostrick.  “The message from the dwarves said that they would accept an embassy, on one condition,” the gnome said.

“What condition?” Glori asked.

“That Bredan Karras be part of it.”

The companions all shared a stunned look at that.  “Me?” Bredan asked.

“How do they even know about you?” Glori asked.

“I assume that you did not mention his name in your original communication,” Kosk said.

“We did not,” Javerin said.  “Nor do we know how they learned of him.”

There was something in her look that had Glori straightening in her chair.  “You’re not saying that you think it was one of us.”

“We’ve made no such accusation,” Konstantin said.

“It could be that the dwarven court has a source of information in Severon,” Xeeta said.

“We have not ruled anything out,” Ostrick said.

“What could they want with you?” Glori asked, turning to Bredan.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said.

“There is a temple of Hosrenu in Ironcrest,” Javerin said.  “I believe that the authorities of your church would endorse the idea of you joining the embassy, Master Emberlane.”

“The dwarves are not particularly friendly toward those who have orcish ancestry,” Quellan said.

“Nor are the elves, or the humans for that matter,” Glori said.

“I’ll take Quellan, and Xeeta,” Bredan said.  “If they want me, then they can host my friends as well.”

“We have already prepared a proposal,” Ostrick said.  “We just wanted to get your approval first.”

“You should go with them,” Glori said to Kosk.  “I’ll be fine, it’s not like the elves are going to do anything to me.”

“I can’t go to Ironcrest,” Kosk said.  He looked across the table at the wizards.  None of them said anything, but it was obvious in their faces that they knew the reason why.

“If we have to split up, I’d rather each of us has someone to watch their backs,” Bredan said.  “Are you okay with that, Xeeta?”

“Better than staying here alone,” she said.

“So, what do we do, just show up and ask if we can borrow their key to the Vault?” Glori asked.

“There will be a formal emissary accompanying each group,” Javerin said.  “I will be the one going to the elves, Konstantin to the dwarves.  We will be leading the negotiations.”

“The crown will just go along with that?” Kosk asked.

“Unless they can manage a teleportation spell on their own, I would imagine they would have to,” Xeeta said.  “Or at least I assume that we will be using an expedited means of travel.”

“The dwarven city does not have an arrival circle within its environs, but that is essentially the case,” Konstantin said.

“And if they refuse to turn over their keys?” the tiefling pressed.

“Well, we certainly cannot compel them,” Konstantin said.  “But we all have a common interest in dealing with the threat posed by these Blooded, and if the book is somehow connected with their activities…”

“So, hope for the best, is what you’re saying,” Kosk said.

“You have placed yourself in the middle of all this through your actions,” Tamrek said.  “If you still seek the answers you said you wanted, then I see no other course but to see this through to the end.”


----------



## carborundum

Don't split the party!


----------



## Lazybones

That's one of the titles of this book!

We begin by revisiting an old friend...

* * * 

Book 8: DON’T SPLIT THE PARTY! or THE SHATTERED KEY

Chapter 160

It took Kurok the better part of a month to get back to where he had started.

For a time, he wasn’t sure he would make it back at all.  The wound in his back became infected, and he spent a week in a cave with a high fever, tormented by vicious dreams and subsisting on bugs and lichens.

It was a different man who returned to the valley where Murgoth’s staging camp had been situated.  In place of the powerful, confident warlock that had cowed a dragon was a gaunt, furtive figure, engulfed in the now too-large drape of his cloak that he clutched tight with thin and trembling fingers.  But the fire still burned in his eyes, and if it took more time to scramble over the uneven rocks that rimmed the valley, he did not falter.

He did finally pause when he gained a crest that gave him a view of the site of the camp.  The valley was mostly empty now, though the debris and detritus of an army that no longer existed remained.  A few scavengers were visible here and there, but none of them paid him any attention.

Kurok’s focus was on the one remaining structure, the black tent that still stood atop the rise on the far side of the valley.  The standard that had once fluttered atop it was gone, and there was no sign of any activity in or around the tent.  But after a moment Kurok started in that direction, moving carefully down the sharp descent to the valley floor.

A few birds scattered at his approach, only to return once he was gone.  Kurok tried not to pay too much attention to what they were feasting on.  In addition to the heaps of trash and broken gear there were signs of hastily-dug graves throughout the site.  He could imagine the scene when the remnants of Murgoth’s defeated army had returned here on their way back to the clanholds deep in the mountains, beyond the vengeful reach of the Arreshian king.  The warlock had encountered a few of those fugitives on his long journey back, and they had given him a somewhat fragmented account of all that he had missed.  As it happened the side-mission that Zorek had given him might have saved his life, as very few of the Blooded that had accompanied Murgoth had survived the warlord’s crushing defeat at the hands of the human armies.  A few of the survivors had cautiously inquired about his plans; apparently the end of Murgoth had already begun a process of resorting as the surviving clan leaders jockeyed for power.  Fighting over the crumbs, Kurok thought.  He had no interest in getting involved in those squabbles, and in each case the fugitives he’d encounter had let him be, continuing on their flight back to their homes.

The warlock continued his slow trek across the valley floor.  This time there were no marching formations or old memories to stand in his way.  He still was not quite sure why he had returned.  He was somehow not surprised to find the tent still standing, but he doubted that Zorek would have any answers for him.  He could still feel his power, burning in his very blood.  Was that why he had come, to extract revenge from those who had sent him away to die?  He did not know himself.

A few mangy dogs scattered as he neared the far side of the valley.  He must have looked like a tempting morsel to them, slow and weak as he was, but perhaps they could sense the wrongness that radiated from him, for they gave him a wide berth before returning to their scavenging.  At one point he spotted a solitary goblin digging through a pile of trash with a pointed stick.  The pathetic creature gave him a look of challenge as he passed.  Kurok ignored him and kept on.

Climbing the far slope took three times as long as the descent.  When he finally gained the shelf where the tent stood Kurok paused to catch his breath.  The front of the tent stood open, the loose flaps fluttering in the wind.  It looked like the interior had been cleaned out, or at least there wasn’t anything to see from his current vantage.  Resisting the urge to conjure the _Armor of Agathys_, the warlock made his way inside.

The interior was dark but held no secrets to Kurok’s eyes.  He made his way to the partition that separated off the back part of the tent.  His hand lingered as he reached out and took hold of the heavy fabric.  It took him another moment to find the seam, his heart pounding his chest.  He did not know what he would find behind that curtain, but he had an instinct that it was important.

When he finally pulled the divider aside, he saw something that he had not expected.

It looked like Zorek had been there for quite some time.  The aged hobgoblin lay sprawled in his chair, his arms and legs spread wide.  His face was frozen in an expression that might have been surprise, or pain, it was hard to tell with his skin drawn taut over his skull.  Strangely there was no scent of rot.  It looked as though the body had become desiccated somehow, almost like the way some of the southern cultures preserved their dead before sealing them in buried tombs.

“His heart failed,” a voice said from behind him.

Kurok spun and nearly stumbled as his leg got caught in the curtain.  He had not heard anyone approaching, and usually his instincts were strong in that area.  Perhaps his physical decline had also been accompanied by a hazing of his senses.

A man was standing in the outer entry of the tent.  He looked to be a human, finely if not extravagantly dressed, with a broad cape of heavy linen embroidered with golden thread.  The cape did not ruffle in the wind, which gave Kurok his first clue as to who this was, if his odd appearance was not sufficient.  Even so the warlock was slow to lower his hand, and even slower to release the stored energies of the _eldritch blast_ that he had reflexively summoned.

The human smirked as if he recognized exactly what Kurok had almost done.  “It took you long enough to get here,” he said.

“I was not sure I would come back,” Kurok said.

“Where else would you go?” the other asked.  He came into the tent and seated himself in a chair just to the right of the entry.  Kurok was certain that the chair had not been there before, but he let that go.

“Your chosen appearance, as always, is unusual,” Kurok said.

“And as always, it has significance,” the other said.  But this time he let it be, rather than shifting to a form more reassuring to his guest.

“I would not mind if we skipped the preliminary banter this time,” Kurok said.  “It has been a long month.”

“I can see.  Do not be nervous; I have not planned any punishment for you, even though your mission was a failure.”

“It is a miracle that I am even alive,” Kurok said.  “You neglected to note that there would be other Blooded working against me.”

The other shrugged expressively and spread his hands as if to state that such things were of no consequence.  “You survived, and thus remain useful.”

“It seems that you have few of your pawns left to you.”

“Ah, you play chess?  We shall have to have a game sometime.  You are correct in the short term, but remember that you cannot see the entire board.  My masters are playing a long game, and the defeat of Murgoth, while unfortunate, was not unexpected.”

“So, the slaughter of several clans was just the necessary sacrifice of a piece that had gotten out of position on the board.”

The other chuckled, though something sharpened in his eyes.  “Do not pretend that you care one fig for the fate of your people,” he said.  “And remember that you too are a piece, though an important one, at the moment.”

“And if I grow weary of the game?”

“You can always rejoin your kin, if that is your wish.  But remember, Kurok, where your power comes from.  Those who give, can also take away.  But with all your many friends among the clans, I am sure you would be fine either way.”

“Just tell me what you want.”

“I understand that you speak the Common tongue quite fluently.”

There was a time when Kurok might have been caught off-guard by the non-sequitur, but he was getting used to verbal fencing with this adversary.  “It was required that all of us learn to speak the human tongue,” he said.

“But even in this, you were more than adequate,” the caped man said.  “Our late friend Zorek frequently spoke your praises.”

“What killed him?” Kurok asked.

“His heart seized.  I believe it was the strain of bringing me across this last time.”

“Your grief warms my heart,” Kurok said.

The other smiled.  “Tell me, were you really going to kill him?”

“I don’t know,” Kurok said.  That much, at least, was true.  He stepped forward into the room, if only to keep from having the entangling folds of the curtain at his back.  There was no second chair, but he doubted he would have felt comfortable enough to sit in any case.  “So, you need me to speak Common, wherever it is you are sending me.”

“Yes.  The focus of the game has moved to the south.”

“I may speak the language, but I doubt that I would fit in easily in the human lands,” Kurok said dryly.  He drew back his cowl to fully reveal his face.  His visage had been altered with the changes from his recent ordeal, his skin hanging loose around his jowls and neck and his eyes buried in sunken hollows.  But there was no mistaking the deep reddish tint to his skin or the other distinctive features of his hobgoblin heritage.

“Still you doubt me,” the other said.  He rose suddenly and stepped toward Kurok.  The warlock drew back a step, his hands coming up again in reflex.

“Your wariness is wise, but we have come to a time of decision,” the caped man said.  “Stay or go, but if you go now, then there is no coming back.”

Kurok hesitated, long enough that the other’s light expression faded into impatience.  But as he opened his mouth to speak the warlock abruptly stepped forward.

“Good,” the caped man said, and without further delay he reached up and seized hold of Kurok’s skull with both of his hands.

Kurok has experienced the visitor’s touch before, but this time the connection was different.  It still felt as though someone was tearing him apart from inside, but there was something else, a sensation like insects crawling around inside his skull.  When the contact was broken, after what felt like minutes but could have only been a heartbeat or two, he could still feel the echoes of whatever had been done to him.

“What…” he managed to cough out.

“The _Mask of Many Faces_ will prove useful where you are going,” the other said.  “You will have a chance to practice, but first, I have something else for you.  A companion for your journey.”

“Companion?” Kurok asked, again instantly wary.

“A boon friend, to watch your back and guide you through troubled times,” the other said.  As Kurok’s expression deepened into obvious mistrust he laughed and clapped his hands.

The warlock’s eyes darted to the entrance of the tent, but the shifting form materialized out of the shadows behind the caped figure.  Kurok’s enhanced vision had not seen him, and again he would have sworn that the space had been empty just a moment earlier, but he knew better than to betray any unease.  That was difficult to do when the new arrival stepped forward into the light that spilled in from outside.

The thing was hideous.  Its hide was a dusky gray, the color of old ashes.  Its body was lean and muscled, but it was its head that drew instinctive attention, an oversized, bulbous orb without any hair covering its surface.  Its features were thin and vague, as if a sculptor had started to fashion a man’s face but had lost interest halfway through.  Its eyes were striking, dull red orbs without lids that fixed on Kurok intently.

“This is Drekkath,” the caped man said.  “Show him.”

Kurok, still caught off guard by the creature’s terrible appearance, at first thought that the command was meant for him.  But the creature began to shift, its body altering in form.  It wasn’t like the smoother transformations wrought by the caped man; Kurok could see bones and muscles reforming under the creature’s hide as it changed form.

“You’re a changeling,” he said.  “A doppleganger.”

The creature’s mouth spread into a smile even as his facial features began to take on definition.  His skin formed into clothes, which took on color as it assumed the texture of the fabric.

It could not have taken more than a few seconds altogether, and when it was over Kurok faced a mirror image of himself.  It was somewhat startling to see how much his physical aspect had suffered over the last month.  He felt a gentle pressure upon his awareness, a brief caress that he might not have noticed if he hadn’t been on his guard.

“My name is Kurok,” the creature said, his lips twisted into a mocking smile.  “I’ve been given power that places me far above my race, yet I am tormented with doubts and questions.”

“That’s enough,” the caped man said.  Drekkath held Kurok’s gaze for a moment longer, then turned and offered a slight bow to the other.  He reached under the cape and drew out a compact leather satchel that he offered to the doppleganger.  “This contains everything that you will need.  Identity papers, documents, maps, and enough coin to accomplish what you need to do.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Kurok asked.

“For now, travel south into Arresh.  The maps will guide you, and there is a list of contacts who will have more information.  Needless to say, that documents should be memorized and then destroyed before you leave the mountains.”

“I generally prefer to work alone,” Drekkath said.

“We don’t always get what we want,” the caped man said.

“I will work with you if I must,” Kurok said, stepping forward to confront his mirror image.  “But listen to me, and hear my words, creature.  Intrude upon my mind again, just once, and I will burn you out from within.”

Drekkath’s mouth spread into an impossibly wide smile, his jaw filling with row upon row of pointed teeth.

“Wonderful,” the caped man said.  “So, we all understand each other.  Let me add one thing.  While you have been off the board, the other pieces have been moving.  But the end game is fast approaching.  We are coming to a time when a great prize will be within our grasp.  You are only part of the forces that are being marshalled to seize control of the coming moment.  But know this.  Succeed, and the rewards that will come to you will be beyond anything that you might have imagined.  Fail… well, perhaps you already know that death is not the worst that can happen, and that it will not in any way be an escape from the oaths you have sworn.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 161

Their initial arrival was quite disorienting.

Glori doubted that she would ever get used to this form of travel.  One moment they had all been standing in the ornate antechamber in the Apernium that contained the Arreshian wizards’ teleportation circle, and the next they were somewhere far away.  That interval, that moment of nonexistence that filled the space between, was something that Glori did not want to think about.

Instead, she tried to focus on her surroundings.  As the brief haze that had clouded her senses began to clear she realized that she was somewhere outside.  The room in the Apernium had been brightly lit, but the natural sunlight here was nearly blinding.  The air was warm but not excessively so, and she could smell both the bright floral scents of growing things and hear the faint buzzing of bees.  They were in some sort of natural grove, surrounded by a curved white wall that blended discretely in with the trees and bushes that filled the space.  The floor beneath her feet was stone, colored in markings that she realized were part of a large mosaic that filled a space several times broader than the room they had left.

She glanced over to see that her companions were making similar adjustments.  Javerin seemed to have regained her composure; that made sense, given that it was her spell that had catapulted them halfway across the continent.  The only other members of their company made an odd pair.  Kosk looked more himself in his new robes and staff, but the woman next to him, though nearly identically dressed, remained something of an enigma.  Glori knew from the wizards’ earlier comments that Embrae Kelandras had been asked to join the embassy because of her connections to the elvish leadership, but neither they nor she had revealed any more details.  The elf woman looked to be a little tense as she looked around at their surroundings.  She wore only her simple monk’s robe and soft slippers; she’d brought neither weapons nor any other personal belongings with her.

A hint of movement drew Glori’s attention and she belatedly realized that the elves had sent a party to greet their arrival.  Blinking against the sunlight, she noted that there were six of them, dressed in an assortment of finery, their formal robes augmented with bright jewels in all of the colors of the rainbow.  They all shared the ageless look common among the high elves that she remembered, but she didn’t recognize any of them specifically.

She was about to turn away when she saw _him_.

It had been years since she’d last seen Majerion, but he hadn’t changed a bit.  He was not part of the welcoming committee but rather stood back near the entry to the area, leaning against an ornamental column.  His tunic and breeches were perhaps less dusty and of rather finer cut, but he still wore his usual accessories, a rapier on one hip and a golden lyre on the other, with half a dozen bags and pouches hanging between.  He caught her eyes and his lips twisted in a smirk that was so familiar that Glori’s breath almost caught in her chest.  For all that she’d come here with the intent of confronting him, the sight of him actually standing there in the flesh was too overwhelming even for her anger to overcome.

She was so distracted that she nearly missed the initial round of introductions.  Belatedly she heard her name being spoken and forced herself back into the moment.  One of the elves had stepped forward ahead of the others, apparently the highest-ranking member of the group.  But he barely acknowledged Glori or Javerin, instead stepping forward to bow deeply to Embrae.

“Princess, welcome back to your homeland,” he said.

Glori’s eyes widened, and even Kosk seemed briefly taken aback.  Embrae merely looked uncomfortable, and when the other elf did not rise from his pose she said, “Advisor Lendelaine, I am not here in a formal position.  For now, treat me as part of this embassy.”

The elf official straightened, but still inclined his head in a gesture of respect.  Javerin, perhaps irate at being ignored, cleared her throat and said, “Advisor, we are on a mission of great urgency to both of our peoples.  It is important that we secure an audience with King Gevalaine as soon as…”

“The King and the Royal House have removed to the summer estate at Seven Falls,” Lendelaine smoothly interjected, not quite meeting the wizard’s gaze.  “Be assured that the Advisory Council has been given full authority to treat with you.  We are in constant communication with His Majesty, who is aware of the full… situation.”

“Excellent,” Javerin said.  “Then we can begin whenever you are ready.”

“In due time,” Lendelaine said.  “You have waited decades to reach out to us, surely a few extra hours will not hurt.  Come, we have prepared guest quarters and refreshment for you, to recover from your long journey.”

There was just enough of shift in tone with that last for Glori to recognize it as sarcasm, though she might have missed it without Majerion’s tutelage.  As the elves gestured for their guests to follow them, she looked back over at where he’d been standing.

Her former mentor was gone.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 162

As the visitors made their way into the elven city of Tal Nadesh, they were greeted by one wonder after another.

Glori didn’t remember much of the city from her last visit.  She had only been there a few times, the most recent after the death of her parents, when she’d hardly been paying much attention to her surroundings.  While the village where the Leliades family had lived had technically been a part of the elven kingdom, theirs had been a border settlement, relatively distant from the shining sun of Tal Nadesh.

The city spread out to cover as much territory as Severon, but that was where the similarity to the human metropolis ended.  The buildings were either made of white stone or woods that were almost as pale, but they never crowded together, and even the humblest cottage had a design that drew the eye.  The architecture tended toward tall and narrow structures, with turrets and spires that looked almost impossible, that should have collapsed under their own weight.  But even the remarkable buildings were not the most striking part of the city.  What impressed Glori the most was the landscaping, the beautiful gardens, parks, and orchards that spread everywhere she looked.  There was no grid of streets like in Severon, but rather a latticework of paved walks and gravel trails that wound through a sculpted world of natural color and living greenery.

A small river wound through the city, and the elves had put it to work as well, diverting streams that fueled tiered waterfalls and beautiful fountains, some formed to look natural while others sprouted water from elaborate sculpted designs.  There were some that made Glori want to stop and stare.

But there were other features that drew her attention as well, and reminded her of why they were here.  The soldiers were one.  There weren’t many, and most were placed in ways that kept them out of casual view, but there were enough that they were never out of sight of at least one cluster.  There was also the subtle way in which space was made for the diplomatic party.  They saw elves, groups and individuals going about their daily business, but none of them approached their group or came close enough for even a brief encounter.  A few did stop to look at the party as it passed, and Glori wondered what they saw.

Glori kept scanning the crowd for any sign of Majerion, though she doubted she would find any.  Clearly, he had just been there to see her and to be seen by her.  She remembered that he had a talent for evading detection.  She would likely only see him again when he wished her to.

Javerin remained ahead with the bulk of their escorts, engaged in an ongoing conversation with Advisor Lendelaine.  Kosk and Embrae walked behind her, with the last two of the elvish party trailing behind as shepherds—or watchdogs, perhaps.  She toned out the chatter from ahead when she heard Kosk clear his throat softly.

“Princess?” he asked.

“It’s just an honorary title,” Embrae replied.  They were speaking quietly, but Glori could just make out the words without making it obvious that she was trying to listen in.  “I am something like thirty-first in line to the throne or something.”

“Still, you might have mentioned it.”

“It was not something I chose.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Clearly it does to them,” Kosk said.

The two monks didn’t say anything more as they continued their procession into the city.  Their destination was about half a mile from the teleportation circle, on the edge of a copse of tall trees.  The stone buildings were clearly all part of the same complex, but again were spread out and connected by paths that wound through carefully tended gardens.  They crossed a stream and continued over a walkway that passed a dozen rock-lined pools in which colorful fish swam placidly.  Glori spotted a pair of peacocks on one of the lawns, and there were other birds in the trees that chirped as they walked past.

“Must be a beast keeping all of this clean,” Kosk muttered.

Lendelaine took them to a cluster of three neat stone cottages that backed up almost to the edge of the woods.  “I hope that you will find these quarters comfortable,” he said.  “Princess, obviously you will want to—”

“I will remain here with the embassy for now,” Embrae interjected.

Lendelaine looked almost physically pained, but he inclined his head and continued, “There will be a reception and dinner in a few hours to formally welcome you to Tal Nadesh.  The cottages contain an assortment of attire that I believe you will find suitable.  Kaesla here will be remaining nearby, just let her know if there is anything else you require.”

“Thank you, Advisor,” Javerin said.  “I will say again that if there is anything that can be done to expedite the process of these negotiations—”

“I will pass on your concerns,” Lendelaine said.

“Until this evening, then,” Javerin said.

The members of the reception party departed along one of the paths, all save for the elvish woman who was obviously to be their minder.  Trying not to be obvious about it, Glori tried to determine if there were guards or any other watchers nearby.  She finally gave up on it; from what she knew of the elves their sentries could be a stone’s throw away and she wouldn’t see them if they didn’t want to be seen.  That meant that the ones she’d spotted earlier _had_ meant to be seen.

This was going to be a long trip, she thought.

“I believe I would like to get some rest,” Embrae said abruptly.  Before any of the others could comment she went into one of the cottages.  It looked like each one had at least a few rooms and Glori doubted there would be any issues with crowding.

“A sound idea,” Javerin said.  She went into the second cottage.  After a shared look Glori and Kosk followed her.

The interior of the cottage was furnished in a simple style, though everything looked to be of exceptional quality and craftsmanship.  Javerin went over to a couch near the hearth and settled into it, though she waited until Kosk had closed the door firmly behind him before speaking.  “Something on your mind?” she asked.

“What did you know about Embrae’s… status?” Kosk asked.

“Why, all of it, of course,” the wizard replied.  “Why do you think she’s here?”

“What makes you think she’ll help you, if she’s a member of the royal house?” Glori asked.  “In fact, why did she agree to come here with you?”

“I suppose you’ll have to ask her,” Javerin said.  At the looks the other two gave to that statement she added, “Look, it’s obvious that she left her homeland of her own accord.  You can already see that this is going to be a difficult negotiation.  Anything that can help to grease the wheels is welcome.”

“What kind of leverage do you have over her?” Glori persisted.

Javerin’s eyes narrowed, but Kosk said, “I imagine the Apernium asked Abbot Anaeus for a favor.”  The wizard didn’t confirm the comment, but she inclined her head slightly toward the dwarf.  “We are all on the same side here,” she said.  “Even the elves, though they might not see it that way at first.  We are all facing a shared threat, and we are not the only ones seeking access to the Libram.  The two of you are here because you have personal experience with that threat, and can hopefully communicate it to our hosts.”

“The elves might understand more than you think,” Glori said.  “Remember Starfinder?”

The dwarf nodded.  “I don’t remember seeing that name in your report,” Javerin said.

“She was a wizard who hired us to locate a Mai’i artifact, back in Crosspath.  That was the first time that we—the four of us, Xeeta came later—met and worked together.”

“Ah, yes, the magic stone of the Eth’barat,” Javerin said.  “I do not see how it is connected…”

“Starfinder was an elf,” Kosk said.

“There are many elves in the world, and not all are connected to the power of Tal Nadesh,” Javerin said.  As Glori opened her mouth to speak again the wizard quickly continued, “I understand your concern, and share it.  Any nugget of potentially relevant information is useful to our cause.  The elves obviously have their own agenda, and we would be foolish to forget that.”

“Did you know that the king and his court would be on vacation when we came?” Glori asked.

“No, but I’m not surprised,” Javerin said.  “King Gevalaine rarely meets with outsiders.  That’s a practice that most of his predecessors have shared.”

“Is this Advisor fellow related to him somehow?” Kosk asked.  “Or do all of the elves here just have similar-sounding names.”

“The members of the nobility are all connected in some manner or another,” Javerin said.  “They place a great deal of emphasis on status, with elaborate rituals designed to save face or undermine a rival.”

“Not so different from humans, then,” Glori pointed out.

“You seemed quite impatient, earlier,” Kosk said.

“All part of the dance,” Javerin said.  “We are here, so we have to play the game by their rules.  I would be shocked if we actually got to the topic of the key in the first week of our visit.”

Kosk muttered a curse under his breath at that.  “We may not have time for too many games,” Glori said.

“We will have to do our best to move through the preliminary steps as swiftly as possible,” Javerin said.

“What exactly do you want us to do?” Glori asked.  “In between the receptions and dinners, that is.”

“They won’t keep us prisoner here, but just be aware that everything that you do, everything that you say, outside these walls will be monitored.  Probably everything in them as well, but that cannot be helped.  But you should feel welcome to mingle, to meet people.  I understand that you have a particular talent in that area, Miss Leliades.”

Glori thought again of Majerion, and how little he had changed, outwardly, at least.  “I understand.”

“And you, Master Stonefist?”

“I don’t suppose they brew good ale here,” Kosk said.  “I guess we’ll have to make do.”

“Indeed.”

“And what about Embrae?”

“She is her own person,” Javerin said.

“That wasn’t what I was asking,” Kosk said.

“Nevertheless, that’s all I can tell you,” Javerin said.

“All right,” Glori said.  “I suppose I’ll go see what is considered proper formal wear here.  I just hope it isn’t petticoats, I hate those.”

She gave Kosk a subtle look as they were leaving.  The two of them went to the third cottage, which looked to be laid out in similar fashion to the other two.  Glori went to the window of the front room and pulled back the curtain to look outside.  Kaesla was sitting in the shade of a nearby plum tree, reading a book, but she didn’t see anyone else watching.

“So, what do you think?” she asked Kosk.

“I think there’s only one person here that I trust,” the dwarf said.  “And I think we should watch each other’s backs while we’re here.”

“They’re hardly friendly, but do you think there’s danger here?” Glori asked.

Kosk shrugged.  “Why not?  There’s been danger everywhere else we’ve gone.”  He rubbed his jaw.  “I need a shave.”

As he headed into the back rooms of the cottage Glori remained at the window, looking out into the bright sunshine of the day and thinking.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 163

Javerin, senior wizard of the Apernium, was tired and frustrated as she returned to her quarters the day after her arrival in Tal Nadesh.  She did not let her feelings show—would not even when she was tucked into her bed—but that need only added to her unpleasant mood.

The day had been filled with meetings, punctuated by a luncheon where she’d barely gotten a chance to eat a few bites and an evening reception where she hadn’t even managed that.  She’d met and spoken with over fifty people, none of whom had the authority to authorize her to take the key to the Vault of the Libram back to Severon.  Her mission was no further along than when she had first arrived at the teleport circle more than twenty-four hours previously.

She had told Glori that it might take a week to get through the diplomatic preliminaries and begin the actual negotiations over the key.  That was probably true, but at the moment the thought of six more days of this made her want to scream.

The door to her cottage was unlocked and swung open easily at her touch.  There were no lights in the other two cottages but it was early yet.  Glori, Kosk, and Embrae had been at the reception but had left early, no doubt tired from their own day exploring the city and doing things far more interesting than attending meeting after meeting.

Javerin would debrief them later, but right now she just wanted a snack and a glass of the fine brandy that the elves had left for their guests.  They did not stint on the creature comforts, at least.  They’d even laid a small fire in the hearth against the chill of the evening, though the mild summer nights in the elven kingdom made it hardly necessary.

She was halfway to the kitchen when she realized that she was not alone.  She turned, her hand starting to glow as she called upon her magic.

A slender figure draped in a dark cloak emerged from the shadows of the hall that led to the back of the house.  “Apologies, Ambassador,” the figure said.  “I did not mean to startle you.  The door was open.”

Javerin eased her posture but did not release her magic.  The faint light of the fire revealed few details of the stranger, who wore a cowl that covered her face.  Or at least Javerin guessed it to be a woman; she spoke so softly it was difficult to be certain.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Merely a humble messenger,” the other said.  “I have come with a gift for you from the Druid of the Wood, a small gesture of his regard.”

She reached under her cloak, and Javerin tensed again for a moment until the stranger drew out a plant in a shallow clay pot.  It was a tree, or at least it looked like one, a detailed, miniature tree.  Tiny pink flowers sprouted from branches that were otherwise covered in greenery.

“Ah, thank you,” Javerin said.  She was not interested in owning a tiny tree, especially when it delayed her from getting her dinner—and her drink—but her briefings had mentioned the Druid, a figure of some importance in the elven hierarchy.  When the cowled woman came forward and presented the tree, she accepted it with a slight bow.

“Ah… how do I care for it?”

“It needs very little,” the messenger said.

“Well, be sure to tell the Druid that I appreciate his gesture,” Javerin said as she bent to place the tree on the small table in the front room.  “Will he be joining us at tomorrow’s reception?”
When she didn’t get an answer, she straightened and turned back with a frown.  The messenger was gone.  Javerin stepped over to the hall, but she wasn’t there.  She must have exited by the front door; if she’d gone to the bedrooms in the back the only way out would be to crawl through one of the windows.

“Elves,” the wizard said under her breath.

She went to the kitchen and put together a plate of flatbread, cheese, and fruit from the stores there.  She did not forget the brandy, pouring a generous portion into one of the bulb-shaped glasses arranged in the cupboard.  She brought her dinner back into the front room and set the plate down onto the table next to the odd plant.  She stared at it as she sat on the couch and sipped at her brandy.  The thing was really uncanny, almost as if someone had taken a regular tree and somehow shrunk it down so that it was only a foot tall.

Well, weird gifts were probably just a part of being an ambassador.  She straightened and started to reach for the food.

Something strange caught her attention.  Had the tree just… _moved?_.  Wary, she reached out a hand and brushed one of the tiny branches with a fingertip.

She felt a sudden jolt of pain and drew her hand back.  A small bead of blood was visible on her finger.  She carefully examined the branch and saw that the tree had tiny thorns that she’d missed earlier.

Figures that the elves’ gift would have a hidden threat, Javerin thought as she munched on a slice of cheese.  She made a mental note to ask more about the Druid when she established communication with her superiors back in Severon in the morning.  At least the elves had been polite enough not to place a Warding upon their guests’ residences, that would have made that daily ritual inconvenient.  Of course, any such warding would likely have interfered with their ability to spy on their guests as well.

She finished the cheese and lay back on the couch.  She was still hungry but felt suddenly tired.  She closed her eyes, telling herself that she would just rest for a few moments.  She still had to take down her notes on the day’s encounters and prepare her report for the morning link.

But within a few heartbeats a deep sleep had claimed her.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 164

It took Bredan and the others several days just to reach the border of the dwarves’ lands.

The first part of the journey took but an instant.  Konstantin’s _teleport_ spell brought the diplomatic party—consisting only of the wizard, Bredan, Quellan, and Xeeta—to a citadel named Five Spires, on the easternmost borders of the Kingdom of Arresh.  The fort was surrounded by a harsh landscape of steep hills, but looming over all of it was a vast range of mountains that stretched across the horizon like a wall.  Bredan knew without having to ask that within those mountains was their destination.

The first few days passed smoothly enough, though the road was hardly easy.  The commander of the fort ordered that horses and supplies be made available to them, and even provided an escort to take them as far as the border.  There were only a few settlements in the hills, but the Arreshian soldiers knew the landscape and they were able to cover a lot of ground.  They spent the first night in a fortified tower through which they could hear the constant whistling of the wind throughout the long night.  They got an early start the next morning, though as the day advanced the road become steeper and more difficult.  They had entered the mountains proper, and when they looked behind them all they could see were more of the peaks that seemed to stretch out ahead of them for an eternity.

That afternoon the officer leading their escort called a halt.  Bredan didn’t know what was happening at first, until Quellan pointed out the blockish stone stele the size of a cart that stood along the edge of the road.  The warrior had thought it a boulder at first, but as he looked at it more closely he could make out the runes etched deeply into its surface.

“Wait, this is the border?” he asked.  “That’s it?  From what you’d described of the relations between the dwarves and their neighbors I thought there’d be at least a guard post or something.”

“The dwarves know we’re here,” Konstantin said.

Once the escort had departed, leaving just their four horses and one pack animal, the companions resumed their trek forward.

“This must be a rough road in winter,” Xeeta said.

“Hardly seems worth having a road at all, given the lack of travelers,” Quellan noted.

“The dwarven nation has little communication with other realms,” Konstantin said.  “Though there is some trade within the mountains, and a number of settlements within valleys and other places where crops can be cultivated and animals pastured.  Ironcrest is the leading city of the dwarves, but they do not all dwell within their mountain holds.”

“How much longer will it take to get there?” Xeeta asked.

“I am not entirely certain,” Konstantin said.  “The route does not seem that long on a map, but as you have noted it is quite different in actuality.  We will need to pass at least one more night in the mountains, however.”

“I suppose it would be asking too much to expect to find an inn along the way,” Quellan said.

“You’ve gotten spoiled from all that time in Severon,” Xeeta said.

“There are prepared stations for wayfarers in the mountains,” Konstantin said.  “Or at least such are indicated on the maps.  If not, we have tents on the pack horse.”

“Can’t you just conjure up a magical palace or something?” Xeeta asked the wizard.

“Sadly, that spell is not one that I have mastered,” Konstantin said.  “There have been many cold nights when I have wished that was the case, however.”

“I wonder why the dwarves didn’t send a welcoming party,” Quellan asked.  “After going through the trouble to issue an invitation.”  He glanced over at Bredan, but the young warrior had seemed distracted through most of the trip, not participating in the various discussions that the other three had engaged in for much of the trip.  Konstantin and Quellan had each read many books about the histories of the three nations and the politics between them, giving them plenty to talk about, and for her part Xeeta had a surprisingly diverse collection of knowledge given the relatively constrained nature of her upbringing.

They were making their way up a series of switchbacks when Quellan rode up next to Bredan.  “How do you think the others are faring?” the cleric asked.

“Probably better than we are,” Bredan said.  “They teleported right into Tal Nadesh, right?  They probably already have their part of the key and are waiting for us in Severon.”

“Somehow I cannot quite picture Kosk as a diplomat,” Quellan said.

“Maybe he went up to the elvish ambassador and punched him in the face,” Bredan said.  Both men laughed, and for a moment some of the weight that had settled onto the warrior since their experiences in Severon seemed to lift.  But then a sudden cold wind gusted along the trail, forcing them to pull their cloaks tightly around their bodies, and the breeze seemed to take their levity away with it.

“It’s strange, being separated after so long together,” Quellan said after a moment.

Bredan looked over at the half-orc.  After having gone through so much with the cleric it was easy sometimes to forget the impression he presented to others.  The half-orc looked fierce, perhaps even feral, but Bredan knew that there was a sensitive soul within that harsh exterior.  “I’m sure they’re fine,” he said.  “Glori knows how to handle herself, and Kosk is, well, Kosk.”

Quellan smiled.  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.  And I suppose we should focus on our own mission, and what the dwarves want from us in exchange for the key.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Bredan said.  He hunched forward in his saddle as the road narrowed ahead, cutting off further conversation.

The sun was just touching the summit of the latest rise behind them when they found one of the waystations that Konstantin had spoken of.  It was subtle enough that they almost missed it, a narrow opening in the rocks that had the look of a cave until one got close enough to see the heavy wooden door recessed within.

The waystation consisted of two bare stone rooms, one for the travelers and one for their horses.  It didn’t look like anyone had stayed there recently, but there were caches of chopped firewood, water, and dry foodstuffs carefully wrapped in oilcloth pouches.  A simple hearth had been cut into the stone below what looked like a natural chimney, through which the wind whistled softly.

“It may not be an inn, but it’s preferable to sleeping outside,” Konstantin said.

It did not take them long to get their horses settled and to build a fire to cook their evening meal.  For all his rank and power, Konstantin was both willing and able to do his share of the tasks, even summoning a flash of magical fire to ignite the logs stacked in the hearth.  The stored food was mostly root vegetables and ground meal, but augmented with what they’d brought with them it made a hearty meal.  Mostly it was hot and filled their bellies, and after the long and difficult day of travel they were quick to retire to their bedrolls.  Bredan offered to keep the first watch, so after checking on the horses he sat down next to the fire, situating himself so that he could clearly see the entry.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 165

Xeeta found that she could not sleep.  She was certainly tired enough after the long day’s travel, and she knew that the road ahead would only become harder as they progressed deeper into the mountains.  It wasn’t the hardness of the stone shelf that served as her bed, or the throbbing in her legs and backside from two days spent in the unfamiliar confines of a saddle.  She’d slept through worse, had had to learn to take her rest where and when she could find it.

It wasn’t the Demon, which had been quiescent of late.  She had not had the need to use her magic since the fight in the sewers of Severon.  She had grown in power since the Silverpeak Valley, and there were times when she worried that there would be a price to pay for that.  But that wasn’t what was keeping her up tonight.

She finally rose from her bedding.  She could see Bredan sitting near the fire, staring into the flames.  For a moment she considered him, and why she was here.  She didn’t have to come with them back to Severon.  She’d decided not to remain in the Silverpeak Valley with Rodan, but there were plenty of other places she could have gone, especially now that she had the magical amulet that concealed her dark ancestry.  But her new companions—her new friends—had been there for her when she had needed someone.  And Bredan most of all.  At first, she’d thought it just simple compassion, a sentiment that she’d been trained to exploit, growing up in and under the streets of Li Syval.  A weakness.

But it had been more than that, she now knew.  Bredan possessed empathy, and it was a trait that did not make him weak, rather the opposite.  And some of it had apparently seeped into her, for as she covertly watched him she could sense and understand some of what he was feeling.

She crossed the room, her bare feet not even making a whisper on the stone floor of the waystation.  Konstantin was just a vague shadow in his bedroll, a low hill compared to the mountain that was Quellan.  A low, growling snore came from the cleric, but he didn’t stir as she passed.

Bredan hadn’t moved from his intense vigil.  Xeeta didn’t want to startle him, but as she hesitated he shifted slightly to make room for her.

“I have always been fascinated by fire,” she said, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the others.  “Even before my powers began to manifest.  Such beauty and destruction, bound together.  A power that is neither evil nor good, just… raw, primal.”

Bredan didn’t respond.  After a few moments Xeeta went on, “When the magic began to grow in me I was confused, and afraid,” she said.  “They called in the Demon, the ones who had created me.  They were excited by it, excited and pleased, for not all of the ones they bred possessed that gift.  They made me to be a weapon, shaped me to be one, under their control.  But the Demon could not be controlled.  And after a while, after a long while, I could not be either.”

He slowly turned his head to look at her.  “You chose to be something more than what they made you,” he said.  “I don’t know if I will have that choice.”

“You’re still who you are,” she said.  “You’ve changed since we first met.  We both have.  But that hasn’t changed.”

“I’m afraid,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

They sat there together, sharing the warmth of the fire as the night deepened outside their shelter.

In the morning, the dwarves were waiting for them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 166

Glori didn’t sleep well.  Her dreams had been troubled, battles from the Silverpeak and before overlaid with new dangers that remained vague but terrifying.  She woke early, and despite feeling drained she dressed and went for a walk in the gardens.

The natural beauty of the place helped still her nerves somewhat.  It was quiet, the surrounding city still asleep.  As the sun started to rise colors bloomed around her, adding to the sense of calm and life that pervaded the place.

She wondered about Bredan and how he was faring among the dwarves.  Then she remembered that he probably hadn’t even reached them yet.  It had only been a few days, but she still missed him.

That thought led her to Quellan.  She hadn’t really had a chance to think about him, or the complicated web of feelings that connected them.  He’d been honest with her.  She owed him the same, if only she could somehow unlock what her own feelings were.

Distracted by those thoughts, she didn’t realize she was no longer alone until a familiar melody shook her from her reverie.

She turned to see Majerion slowly approaching along one of the paths that wound through the garden.  The source of the music was his golden lyre, which he was playing softly with one hand as he walked.  The tune was one that he had taught her years ago, shortly after they had left the elven domain to begin their journeys back and forth across the surrounding lands.

For a moment Glori felt a thread of uncertainty.  She had left her own instrument in her quarters, along with her armor and weapons.  But after a moment she steeled herself.  Everything that she needed to confront this encounter was inside of her.

She turned to face him and waited.  He finished his song with a flourish as he greeted her.

“Glorianna,” he said.

“Majerion.”

“I have heard something of your exploits,” he told her.  “Your dwarven companion was quite loquacious at last night’s dinner.  I am impressed.”

“‘Loquacious’ is not a word I would have ever used to describe Kosk,” she said.

“Well, it was not easy.  But I have a talent for getting people to come out of their shells.”

“Yes, I remember that about you.”

He tilted his head slightly as he quirked an eyebrow, another gesture that she remembered intimately.  “You are angry about something, my dearest?”

“My dear… what makes you think you can call me that?”

“It has not been so long since we traveled together.”

“Since we… you _abandoned_ me, Majerion!”

The elf bard looked genuinely perplexed.  “I left only when I knew that you could take care of yourself.  I thought you understood.”

“I thought you cared about me.”

“I do, my… Glorianna.”

“Not enough to stay with me, though.”

“My life was here,” he said.  “You could not stay here, so I did my best to help you find a life outside, one where you could be happy.  And from what I have heard, you have that life… a place in the world, friends, people who care about you.”

“So, I was just an obligation to you.”

“No.  Perhaps at first, but I did honestly come to care for you, Glorianna.  When your parents died, there were none others to step in.  You and I share blood, through our fathers’ lines.  The same ancestor, three generations back…”

“Among humankind, we wouldn’t even rate as cousins,” she said.

“We elves are different,” Majerion said.  “It was my responsibility… but I do not regret those years spent.”

“I suppose you think I should be grateful,” she said.

“I do not know what else I could have done,” he said.  “If there is another solution I did not think of, I hope you would tell me.”

“Obviously staying here was not an option.”

There was an edge to her words, but Majerion nodded seriously.  “Of course not.  You know that individuals of mixed heritage like yourself do not fit in to elvish society.  Humans are only permitted to dwell in the outskirts of our lands, and are only permitted in Tal Nadesh under strictly limited circumstances.  Your father knew this when he chose to leave, to take a human wife.”

“It must have been quite the blot on your family,” Glori said.

This time the elf could not mistake the scorn in her words.  “It has nothing to do with my feelings for you,” he said.  “The mixture is bad for both races.  Humans have no more affection for elves than we do for them, as I am sure you have learned.”

“I’ve met plenty of tolerant people.”

“Certainly.  As have I.  But I have also witnessed pettiness, judgment, and rank racism.  It was everywhere we traveled, and I tried to teach you how to confront it, how to deal with it.  How to survive.”

“Life is more than survival.”

“I tried to teach you that as well.”

She shook her head.  “Racism is not just a human trait.”

“Of course not.  But that is the world that we live in.  I could not change it even if I dedicated my life to that cause.  But the reality of the separation of elves and humans is not just founded in attitudes that have calcified over time.  There are real reasons why the two races cannot, should not intermingle too closely.  What happened to your parents is illustrative.”

“What do you mean?”

Majerion hesitated a moment, but finally answered her question.  “The disease that killed your parents… such pestilence is almost unheard of in places like Tal Nadesh.  But such outbreaks are common in human lands.”

Glori just stared at him.  “So it was… my parents’ fault that they died?”

“That is not what I was trying to say.  And in any case, you were blameless.  You did not choose to be what you are.”

“I see.  Well.  In any case, I thank you for your training.”

“Glorianna… I did what I thought was best.”

She was spared from having to come up with a response as she spotted Kosk approaching them from the direction of the guest cottages.  From the look on his face, whatever news he brought was urgent.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Something’s happened to Javerin,” Kosk said.  His eyes flicked briefly to Majerion, but that was all the attention he spared for the elf.

Glori felt a cold feeling in her gut.  “Show me,” she said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 167

Glori stared down at Javerin and tried to figure out what the hell had happened.

They had moved her to someplace different, a building not that different from the guest cottages except in size.  There weren’t many elves about, but the place still had the feel of a hospital; something in the quiet ways the people moved or the general sense of calamity that hung in the air.

The elves had had to cut away most of the couch she’d been lying on when they’d found her.  They’d cut away most of her clothes as well, though someone had been kind enough to lay a blanket atop her.  Glori might have preferred it if they’d covered the wizard’s entire body, then she wouldn’t have to stare at the sight that spread out in front of her.

At first glance, it looked almost as if Javerin had fallen into a thorn bush and gotten tangled in the growth.  Glori might have been able to stomach that, to keep the illusion simple and deny the reality.  The elves had already described what they’d learned.  But she forced herself to go closer, to see for herself.

Javerin hadn’t just fallen into a bush; the bush had fallen _through_ her.  Tendrils of growth penetrated the flesh of her arms, neck, and face, and Glori knew it was the same the rest of the way under the blanket.  A ropy tendril even erupted from her half-open mouth, and a few tiny sprouts from it probed up into her nostrils.  Only her eyes remained unblemished, though they stared straight up without any awareness within them.  The healers had closed them earlier, but they’d popped back open again in a way that was utterly creepy.

The door opened behind her, and she glanced back to see Kosk enter the room.  “The few elves I could manage to pin down all said the same thing,” he told her.  “For all their vaunted magical prowess, they can’t seem to do much to help her.  Can’t even cut the bloody parts that are outside of her.”

“That’s the first thing they tried,” she told him.  “She went into convulsions as soon as they began, and started bleeding internally.  Whatever it is, it’s embedded too deeply to cut away.”

“Quellan would know something,” Kosk muttered.

“The elves have clerics far more powerful than him,” Glori said.  “And when it comes to plants and growing things, their lore rivals anyone’s.”

“For all the good it’s doing her at the moment.”

Glori stared down at the limp form lying on the bed in front of them and didn’t say anything.

“It’s going to be a long trip back to Severon without her,” Kosk said.

“The elves could send us back, if it comes to that,” Glori said.  “But we’re not leaving without the key.”

“This was no accident,” Kosk said.  “Or just a case of someone not liking a human diplomat showing up in Tal Nadesh.  If you stay, if you take over her mission, you’ll be painting a nice fat target on your back.”

“I know that,” she said.  “Is that a problem for you?”

Kosk spat a curse.  “No, damn it.  I’m just making sure that you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I knew when I agreed to come here,” she said.  She glanced over at him.  “Where’s Embrae?”

“She went to talk to the bloody council, or whatever they call themselves.  I’m not sure how likely she is to move them.  Thus far they’ve been generous with their sympathies and apologies, but they’re as stubborn as rocks otherwise.”

“We can be stubborn too,” Glori said.  “Javerin said we have to play by their rules.  But we’re not just going to go away.  If necessary, I’ll make the Advisory Council or anyone else see that.”

“Fair enough.  You going to stay here a while?”

Glori shook her head.  “No.  I guess I’ll go back to the cottages.  I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Kosk nodded.  “I think I’ll go visit the gymnasium.  I need to punch something.”

He turned to the door but paused when she called his name.  “Kosk?  I’m glad you’re here.”

“Just watch your back.  And don’t touch any strange plants.”

“Right.”

It wasn’t far from the hospital to the guest cottages.  An elven soldier accompanied her as soon as she left the building, keeping a discrete distance but not giving her a chance to leave his sight.  For once, however, Glori was not troubled by the thought of eyes watching her, at least not the ones she could see.

She was just approaching her cottage when she caught sight of Embrae approaching briskly along another of the paved paths.

“I got us a meeting with the Advisory Council,” the elven monk announced.

“Good.”

“Has there been any change?”

“No.  She’s in a sort of coma, the clerics said.  They don’t think that will change until they can remove whatever’s growing inside of her.”

“I’ll go get Kosk,” she said.

“He said he was going to go to the gymnasium.”

“I know where it is.”

“Embrae… wait.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you come here?”

The elvish woman paused.  “You’ve probably already guessed that I left against the wishes of my kinfolk.”

“That part is none of my business.  That wasn’t why I was asking.”

“I know.  I never wanted to come back here,” she said.  “Leaving was a decision I made on my own and have not regretted.  But Abbot Anaeus said that I’d left matters unfinished.  That I would never find peace until I closed this chapter of my life.”

“Well, he couldn’t have anticipated this.”

“No.  But somehow, what happened to Javerin… I shouldn’t say it.”

“It makes the rest of it easier to deal with?”

The monk nodded.  “I’ll go get Kosk, and then meet you at the Hallowed Hall.”

“I’ll be there.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 168

Armed guards escorted them to the doors of the council chamber, but they did not follow them in.  Glori was barely aware of the doors swinging shut behind her and Embrae, she was so focused on the strange beauty of the place.

The room was round and spacious, with a vaulted ceiling that rose to a dome high overhead.  It was hard to make out many details, for it was almost completely dark.  Tiny globes that seemed to drift down from the ceiling glowed with soft, flickering light that reminded Glori of fireflies.  There was a deeper blue glow around the perimeter of the room that evoked the last lingering vestiges of twilight.  Together those two sources of light were enough to reveal a number of irregular platforms all around them.  Those platforms had been shaped to resemble trees, down to the spreading “branches” that connected with each other and joined with the buttresses that supported the ceiling.  Even the floor contributed to the illusion of a nighttime forest, the surface slightly spongy beneath their steps instead of rigid like hardwood or stone.

“What is this place?” Glori asked.  It was just the two of them; Kosk had not been permitted to enter the inner chamber.  Embrae had been upset, but the Council guards would not budge, even when she’d threatened to leave.  Glori knew that was an empty threat, especially after all of the maneuverings they’d had to go through to get this audience.  Finally, Kosk had told them to go on; he would wait for them in the outer chamber.

“This is where the Advisory Council gathers,” Embrae said.

“When will they get here?”

“They are here now,” the elf replied.  “Look.”

Glori turned back to the near-darkness.  Her keen eyesight—a gift of her mixed heritage—helped her to pick out details that she had missed earlier.  The upper parts of the “trees” had been shaped into nooks that could have served as chairs.  But instead of robed elves, all that she saw were vague, silvery orbs, glistening bulbs maybe two feet across.  Not all of the tree-pedestals had them, but there were at least a dozen that she could see from their current vantage.

“They don’t actually meet in person?” Glori asked.

“Tradition,” Embrae said, interjecting a sour note to the word that had Glori considering her in a new light.  “The elves love their political games.  I remember them well.”

“Things have changed since your departure, Princess,” a voice said.  Glori nearly jumped; the voice seemed to come from all around them, though it wasn’t any louder than a normal person speaking.

“Some of the faces behind the shaels may have changed, but the underlying truth hasn’t,” Embrae said.

Glori looked back up at the silvery spheres and didn’t need to see the faces behind them to sense the judgment there.  “We did not come here to argue,” she said.  “The Ambassador, she is in grave condition.  The Arreshian authorities must be notified…”

“They have already been told,” another disembodied voice said.  Distorted by whatever magic allowed the Advisors to communicate from wherever they were, Glori couldn’t tell if it was the same speaker as before or another, but she decided it probably didn’t matter.

“And their response?” she asked.

“They will send another ambassador when one becomes available,” the voice said.

“Another…” Glori stopped herself and took a steadying breath.  “What about Javerin?”

“You know all that we know,” the voice said.

“That is not much,” Glori said.  “Surely you must have encountered something like this before…”

“The Ambassador was ensared by a potent magic,” the voice said.  “A kind of power unlike any practiced within Tal Nadesh.”

“So you’re saying that there is nothing you can do?  Nothing at all?”

There was a long pause, and Glori had to resist the urge to shout into the darkness.   She wondered if the Advisors could speak with each other without their audience listening in.  Finally, a voice said, “There is one, perhaps, who can help.”

“The Druid,” Embrae said suddenly.

“Yes,” the voice said.

Glori turned to the monk.  “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Embrae looked up at the platforms, but when there was no response she signed and said, “At the core of the elvish kingdom there is a place that is left untouched by settlement or other interference—the Reserve.”

“I’ve heard of it, I know it’s a place that’s kept pristine,” Glori said.  “Part of the elvish commitment to living in harmony with nature.”

Embrae glanced up at the silent watchers again before she continued.  “Yes, that is the common view.  What is not commonly known is that it is kept… pristine, as you said, for another reason.”

“Magic is a phenomenon of the natural world,” one of the Advisors said, the deep, sonorous voice filling the chamber.  “It draws power from life.  The Reserve is kept free of civilization to keep that power pure.”

“But you still tap that power,” Glori said.

“Yes,” the voice said.  “Much as humans tap the power of their machines and dwarves the power that is deep under the earth.”

“And do you think this power is somehow tied to what happened to Javerin?” Glori asked.

“More that the power can possibly help your Ambassador,” the voice said.

“And the Druid, he’s what, the keeper of this Reserve?”

“He is the leader of a group of people called the ‘Tenders,’” Embrae explained.  “They ensure that the Reserve is kept protected.”

“So, let’s get this Druid and bring him here, then,” Glori said.  “Or take her to him, if you need to be inside this place to use the magic.”

“It’s not that simple,” the monk said.  “The Reserve is truly separate from our realm.  It’s isolated, there are no communities in or near it, no roads, not even a regular trail.  It’s not easy to get to, and magical means of communication won’t function within it.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Glori said.

“The Princess sought at one time to join the ranks of the Tenders,” one of the voices said.

Glori looked at Embrae, but the monk lowered her eyes.  “That was a long time ago,” she said.  “A road I ultimately did not choose to walk.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you can’t bring Javerin to the Druid, you can’t summon him remotely, and getting to him isn’t an easy prospect.  Does that about sum it up?”

“Your conclusions are more or less accurate,” the voice said.

“You would not have brought it up if you didn’t think this was the only option,” Glori said.  “Do you think Javerin will survive long enough for someone to get to the Druid and bring him back?”

“We will continue our research, but as you noted, there does not seem to be much else we can do.”

“Javerin is important, and I’ll do anything I can to help her,” Glori said.  “But we have another mission, one that is more important than the life of any one person.”

“Yes.  We know why you are here.”

“You cannot be ignorant of the troubles that are stirring in the world.  Kavel Murgoth was involved in it, but there may be others as well.  There is a dark power at work in the world, one that threatens not just the humans of Arresh.”

“We know of this power, and concur with the plan to access the Elderlore Libram.”

Glori blinked in surprise.  Then why the delays?  Unless…  There’s something more, isn’t there.”

“Your two quests are related, Glorianna Leliades.  For the elves’ portion of the Shattered Key also lies within the Reserve, in the custody of the Druid who dwells within the Green Tower at its core.”


----------



## carborundum

Aha! Assuming the tree-bomb was from this Druid, they've just doubled the price to access the Key.
The Council must know the Druid could be responsible though - "power not like any practiced _within_ Tal Nadesh" indeed.


----------



## Lazybones

Let's just say that there are a lot of hidden wheels at work within elvish society. But for now we'll drop in and see what Bredan and company have been up to...

* * * 

Chapter 169

The dwarves were a quiet, competent-looking lot, all warriors clad in plate armor with various axes, hammers, and crossbows hanging about their persons.  They rode sure-footed mountain horses that stood several hands shorter than the mounts that the companions had brought from Five Spires.  The only one who introduced himself was their leader, a gruff-faced figure named Trok.  There were seven in all, a number that Quellan said held special significance for the dwarves.

Grimacing slightly as she settled once again into her saddle, Xeeta fell in with her companions as they resumed their journey.  The dwarves spread out and surrounded them, almost like an honor guard—or just guards, she thought.  They seemed to watch the surrounding landscape and their charges with equal scrutiny, and Xeeta had to school herself to keep her attention focused ahead, and to ignore the eyes she could feel on her back.

The road continued to climb as the day advanced, and the temperature dropped steadily even as the sun rose higher into the sky.  Dark clouds gathered over the mountains to the south, but they remained too distant to threaten the company.

Bredan had grown quiet again, withdrawing once more into himself.  Konstantin tried several times to start up a dialogue with Trok, but the dwarf made it difficult with his monosyllabic responses.  But the wizard persisted, occasionally drawing Quellan into his conversations to fill the gaps.  He was a natural diplomat, Xeeta thought.  Certainly more so than the rest of them.  She looked again over at Bredan.  She wasn’t here because of the Libram, and didn’t really care if the quest that the wizards had set them upon succeeded or failed.  She knew that it was all about power.  That was a topic that she knew something about.  But she didn’t need the power of a book or some other forgotten lore.  Her power burned in her blood, her birthright, her curse.

They paused for a brief lunch at another rest station.  The dwarves moved with the efficiency of warriors who had spent much time together, caring for the horses and moving their charges along.  They seemed impatient, though none of them showed as much as an irate grimace on their faces.

It was midafternoon when they spotted their destination ahead.  The small column emerged from a steep-walled defile to see another long ascent in front of them.  At the top of the ridge stood a walled town, nestled against the shoulder of a white-capped peak.  To their left the road dropped away to a steep plummet that concluded in a tree-lined valley hundreds of feet below.  Xeeta instinctively shied away from that edge, but their escorts rode a scant arm’s length from it, heedless of the danger.  She had a mental image of a sudden gust of wind knocking one of them over the edge, the dwarf rattling in his armor as he bounced down the slope.

To distract herself from those thoughts she focused on the town ahead.  The wall was impressive, maybe twenty feet tall if she had her scale correct, but the area it sheltered did not look especially large.  Only a few buildings were visible behind it, and certainly nothing that came close to the monumentalist structures of Severon.

“This is Ironcrest?” she said.  “Doesn’t look like much.”

She hadn’t meant to be heard, but Quellan was close enough to make out her question.  “That is just Hightown,” he told her.  “Just one of the districts that makes up the dwarven city.  Underhold is said to be breathtaking.”

That just raised more questions, but not wanting to show her ignorance she didn’t ask them.  She would see for herself soon enough, she thought.

As they approached the walls of the town she could make out more detail.  Her guess about the height of the wall had been, if anything, a bit low.  The gates that the road ended at were generously banded in iron and looked thick.  They were flanked both by arrow slits to either side and murder holes above, dark openings behind which vague shadows moved.  Two protruding towers stuck out from the wall, each supporting platforms that bore heavy ballistae on swivel mounts.  Xeeta noted how they tracked the party as it approached.

“Really laying out the welcome mat, aren’t they?” she asked.  But this time her companions, distracted by their own thoughts, did not respond.

Their escort did not slow as they approached and the gates began to swing slowly open.  Xeeta could see that they were operated by a heavy mechanism rather than muscle; she could hear the gears grinding together within the walls as they passed through.  There were more guards inside, armed and armored much like their escort, but they made way to let them pass into the town.

Hightown was fairly unremarkable.  It was laid out on a simple square grid, the streets straight enough that Xeeta could see all the way to the outer wall each time they came to an intersection.  They continued straight on from the gate, down a central avenue lined by stores and workshops.  The buildings were all made of stone, with steeply sloping wooden roofs designed to keep snow from piling up.  The streets were busy but not crowded, and while they drew attention no one stopped what they were doing to stare.  She saw that her estimate of the size of the town was more or less accurate; they had only traveled a few blocks when she could see the cliff face that marked the shoulder of the mountain against which the dwarven community rested.  She guessed that there couldn’t have been maybe fifty or so buildings in the town altogether; one of Severon’s smaller neighborhoods could have swallowed it up with room to spare.

But the mystery posed by Quellan’s earlier comment was quickly solved as they passed through the last part of the town.  The structures here were larger but still not especially tall.  They had large doors on one ends and few windows; Xeeta guessed them to be warehouses.  But her attention was drawn to the cliffs ahead, where another gate was just coming into view.

This gate made the entrance to Hightown behind them look humble by comparison.  These doors were solid stone, and each stood a good fifteen feet high.  They were embedded _into_ the mountain, at the end of a short tunnel that could accommodate the massive portals with room to spare.  Xeeta didn’t see any arrow slits or other defenses here, but she could still feel eyes watching them as they approached.

Trok reined in his horse a good fifty feet from the mouth of the tunnel.  The dwarf waited until the others had all stopped, then he slowly raised his right hand and made a fist.

The mountain rumbled in response.  The doors shook, then slowly began to swing open.  Xeeta had thought the gears from the outer gate had been loud.  This was like the thunder of an earthquake, even though they were far enough away that she could not see any details of the mechanism.  Inside the tunnel proper it had to be deafening.

The doors only opened partway before the grinding came to a stop, leaving a gap of maybe six or seven feet between them.  Trok dismounted, and his men followed suit.  “Your animals will be cared for,” he said.

The members of the diplomatic party slid down from their saddles.  Xeeta handed the reins of her horse over to one of the guards.  Apparently, they would be continuing on foot from this point.

As they started forward, a figure appeared in the gap between the doors.  It was another dwarf, his beard split into two long braids that covered a richly-embroidered tunic with silver trim and a fur-lined collar and cuffs.  He waited for them in the entry, and as the companions approached a pair of lights began to shine from recessed niches inside the roof of the tunnel.  They were bright enough that it was painful to look at them directly, and as they entered that radiance Xeeta felt something else, a slight prickling sensation on her skin that made her feel slightly uncomfortable.  She could now see other dwarves waiting beyond the gates, a mix of warriors and well-dressed officials like the one standing before them.

“On behalf of the Council of Elders of the Dwarven People of the Iron Crags, I welcome you to Ironcrest,” the dwarf said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 170

“I am Dergan Steelhammer, Representative of the Council,” the dwarven official said.  “I hope that your journey was not too arduous, Ambassador Konstantin.”

“The journey was not difficult, thanks to your hospitality, Representative Steelhammer” Konstantin said.  He offered a slight bow and then turned to his companions.  “Allow me to present Bredan Karras, Quellan Emberlane, and Xeeta of Li Syval.”

Dergan inclined his head toward them.  Xeeta was watching the dwarf carefully, but he did not betray any particular reactions that would explain their interest in Bredan.  “I bid you welcome,” he said.  “The Council is quite eager to meet with you.  Quarters have been prepared where you can refresh yourself prior to the meeting, but first I am afraid that I must ask Xeeta to yield her amulet.”

Xeeta blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“I am sorry, but you cannot conceal your features within Ironcrest.  The use of such illusions is illegal within the city.  I assure you that none will take issue with your true appearance, and your device will be kept safe and returned to you when you depart.”

Xeeta looked at the others in alarm, not at the request specifically, but the fact that they’d detected it and seemed to know all about her already.

She started to reach for the amulet, but Bredan interrupted.  “Is this how you treat all of your honored guests?” he asked.

“Bredan, it’s all right…” Xeeta began, but he held up his hand; he was not going to let it go.  It looked for a moment like Konstantin would intervene, but the wizard ultimately held his ground.  Maybe he agreed with Bredan testing their boundaries here, before they passed through these gates.

If Dergan was ruffled, he didn’t let it show.  “The difference between civilization and barbarism is law,” he said calmly.  “If I were to visit your country, I would expect to be bound by your laws.  I am afraid that I have no authority to grant an exception in this case.  However, I give you my word that when you pass these barriers, the full power of the Council will guarantee your safety.”

“I have heard such assurances before,” Bredan said.  But he stepped back and turned to Xeeta.

“I have nothing to hide,” she said.  Still, she felt a moment of apprehension as she removed the amulet and the illusion screening her features dissolved.  But Dergan merely accepted the device with a nod of acknowledgement.  He stepped back and gestured them forward.

The companions made their way past the giant doors.  The tunnel continued beyond them, a perfectly smooth corridor through the rock of the mountain large enough to accommodate two wagon teams riding side-by-side.  There was plenty of light, with periodic niches that glowed with a softer version of the bright spotlights that had framed the entry.  The dwarves that were waiting inside formed another honor guard, escorting them forward.  Once they were all inside Dergan came forward to lead them, walking alongside Konstantin.  They spoke together quietly as they walked, the words overpowered by the solid thump of their escorts’ feet on the ground and the clank and clatter of the warriors’ armor.

Quellan sidled up to Xeeta, his bulk managing to make the imposing dwarf warriors seem slight by contrast.  “I assume you’ve never been in a dwarf hold before,” he said.

She realized he was trying to distract her from the just-concluded encounter and the forced revelation of her true form.  She didn’t need it, but for his sake she said, “There weren’t many dwarves in Li Syval.”

“Understandable,” Quellan said.  “If my body was denser than water, I would probably not want to settle on an island.”

“I did not know that about them,” she said.

“It’s a weakness they don’t like to publicize,” he said with in an exaggerated whisper.

If any of the dwarves were listening in, they didn’t let it show on their faces.  The tunnel seemed to be quite long, but Xeeta could make out something ahead, a widening into a broader space.

“I admit, I’m quite looking forward to this,” Quellan said conspiratorially to her.  The cleric had a broad grin on his face, an expression that would probably be terrifying to someone who didn’t know him well.

They reached the end of the tunnel and found themselves standing on a broad jut of stone that overlooked a vast cavern.

The space extended for hundreds of feet both above and below them.  It looked like the entire interior of the mountain, or at least a considerable portion of it, was hollow.  The far side was only visible due to the hundreds of tiny lights, in an assortment of colors, that gave the place the look of a forest grotto buzzing with fireflies.  It was an astounding tableau, one that held the three companions for a long moment.  Even Bredan was overwhelmed and could only take in the view in silence.

There were plenty of details to study once the initial impact had worn off.  The city itself was spread across many tiers, a fascinating vertical arrangement that looked impossible at first, until one noted the creative engineering that the dwarves had implemented to solve the problem.  The tiers were connected by gantries that looked like cobwebs from a distance but had to be made of heavy steel.  Bridges suspended by cables from above crossed over gaps, and lifts that rose and descended along thick guiderails provided a quick way of traveling between levels.  Elsewhere wheeled vehicles that resembled mine carts were winched up ramps to deliver cargo or passengers to a higher destination.  Most of the buildings stood atop flat shelves of stone, but others looked as though they had been carved from the very walls of the cavern, resembling birdhouses in the way they stuck out over the abyss.

“Uh, wow,” Bredan said.

“The books do not do it justice,” Quellan said.

Drawn forward by her curiosity, Xeeta stepped forward almost to the edge.  There was no handrail or other safety feature, and the drop to the next tier had to be at least fifty feet.

“Careful,” Quellan warned.

Xeeta saw that the bottom of the cavern was a flat, shimmering surface, one that reflected back the faint glow of the many lamps that dotted the cavern walls.  It was a lake, she realized.  Tiny boats—or maybe not so tiny, given the distance—scuttled across the surface, heading toward still more buildings that surrounded the water.

She turned back to the others.  Dergan was waiting for them with a knowing look on his face that suggested he had witnessed this reaction before.

“You now stand before the heart of Ironcrest,” he said.  “Welcome to Underhold.”


----------



## carborundum

Wow. Someone needs to draw that.


----------



## Lazybones

There are many times when I wish my creative talents extended to art. 

* * * 

Chapter 171

Bredan felt wrung out, almost as if he’d fought a long battle.  Maybe he had, in a sense, he thought as he and his companions left the council chambers.  Konstantin remained inside, engaged in small talk with a few of the Councilors, but Bredan was just grateful that his role as diplomat had come to an end, at least for today.

The “preliminary meeting” with the Council of Elders had lasted nearly four hours.  He knew that for a fact since there had been an elaborate, dwarf-made clock on the mantle above the huge hearth that had dominated one entire wall of the chamber.

His adversaries on the imagined field of battle had been seven elderly dwarves.  Seven again—he’d heard earlier Quellan telling Xeeta about how the number was significant to them, but he hadn’t made out the details.  He regretted not paying enough attention to the conversations on the way here, or asking questions about the details of dwarven government prior to their arrival.  What he gathered was that these seven were high-ranking members of the dwarven elite, lords among their crafts organizations or something similar.

Konstantin’s role during the just-concluded meeting had been vital.  The wizard seemed to get along well enough with the irascible dwarves, never getting flustered or impatient.  The same could not be said for himself, Bredan thought.  The dwarves on the Council had had questions for all of them, but their main focus had been on him.

They’d agreed in advance that they were not trying to keep secrets from the dwarves, but even so Bredan felt as though he’d been raked over hot coals.  There were things he definitely was _not_ going to tell the dwarves, things he hadn’t even shared with the Arreshian wizards, but it had been difficult keeping things hidden from those seven gnarled faces, from dwarves who dug for truths as ardently as a starving miner questing for precious metals or gemstones buried in the earth.

Bredan’s thoughts were on a meal, maybe a hot bath.  He’d heard mention that there were hot springs on one of the lower levels of the city, springs that fueled pools where tired dwarves could soak and ease muscles tired from a long day’s work.  At the moment he was even willing to put up with the inquiring stares that seemed to follow them everywhere in the city.  Though in fairness, it was possible that those stares were more for his companions than for him.  While the Council of Elders knew his name and wanted him for some still-undefined purpose, he doubted that the common dwarves of Ironcrest knew or cared who he was.

As they were leaving the complex of rooms that belonged to the Council they saw Dergan approaching with a younger dwarf clad in a long coat of mail at his side.  “Ah, Bredan, Quellan, Xeeta, I am glad I found you here,” the dwarven official said.

“Ambassador Konstantin is still in the council chambers,” Bredan said.

“Actually, it was you I was hoping to find,” Dergan said.  “Now that your meeting is over, I thought you might enjoy a tour of the city.”

Thoughts of food and steaming water almost caused Bredan to reflexively refuse, but he remembered what Konstantin had said about being cooperative while absorbing what information they could about the dwarves and their motives.  Besides, he thought, all of them had been equally impressed by their first view of the city, and he was sure that Quellan probably had a long list of questions to ask of their hosts.  “Sure,” he said.

“Excellent.  This is Darik Broadshield,” he said, introducing his companion.  “He is one of the Defenders.  He can show you the many sights of Underhold and answer any questions you might ask.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I will take a pass on the tour,” Quellan said.  “If it is possible, I would like to visit the Temple of Hosrenu…”

“Of course,” Dergan said.  “I can take you there.  Darik, take care of our other guests, please.  Give them the full tour.”

“The full tour, you’re certain?” Darik asked.  Something passed between the two dwarves, a look that held hidden meaning.  “We don’t need anything special,” Bredan said.

“It’s no trouble,” Dergan said definitely.  “It is important that you understand what we’re fighting for here.  When you’re done, Darik will show you to the guest quarters.”

Bredan felt a vague sensation of unease, but it was too late to back out now.  Still, he watched with some regret as Quellan left with Dergan.  Maybe if he’d been the first to speak up… no, it was him that the dwarves were interested in, him that they wanted to see whatever was part of the “full tour.”  And he still had Xeeta with him just in case there was something more behind that look the two dwarves had shared.

“All right, lead on,” he said to Darik.

“I understand you were a smith?” the dwarf warrior asked.  At Bredan’s nod he said, “We’ll start at the forges then, they’re a sight.  We’ve been refining metal here for over seven hundred years…”

Bredan prepared himself for more long hours of patient nods and practiced smiles as they followed their guide back into the dwarven city.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 172

The dwarven temple was on the lower levels of Underhold, on a jut that overlooked the lake fifty feet below.  Dergan did not accompany Quellan inside, excusing himself to attend to unspecified business of the Council.  The half-orc thanked him for his aid and went inside.

The interior of the temple was much larger than the exterior had suggested, its chambers burrowing deep into the rock of the mountain.  The massive stone blocks that made up the vestibule were ancient, and Quellan could make out faint runes still etched into their surface.  He was not especially familiar with dwarven history, but he guessed that this place probably dated back far enough that it might have served as a temple to the Stone Lord, back before the dwarves joined the other races in paying homage to the New Gods.  The stylized book of Hosrenu carved over the interior arch looked much more recent than the rest of the place.

Quellan peered briefly through the arch into the nave of the temple.  The manner in which it was laid out was a bit different than the other temples he had visited, but there was enough of the familiar to offer him a sense of reassurance.  He almost stopped to pray—he could have used a moment’s peace right then—but the directions that Dergan had given him led him to the rear of the temple behind the altar, where a much humbler arch led to a recessed door.  He went to the door and knocked on it.  There was no response.  He tried the door and found that it was unlocked.

“Hello?” he said, sticking his head inside.

_This_ chamber was more familiar to him, with its racks of books and multiple writing desks situated strategically throughout the room.  A coal fire burned in a hearth fronted with a metal screen, adding a friendly warmth.  Two doorways led to other parts of the temple, but the place appeared to be empty.

Quellan hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to trespass.  He was about to go back when a voice from the main temple drew his attention back around.

“I never thought I would see the day when an orc entered the sanctum.”

The speaker was an elderly dwarf, his hair and beard a pale gray that was almost white, his features a complex landscape of crags and ridges.  He was dressed in a simple robe that fell from his broad shoulders to brush lightly on the bare stone of the temple floor.  The eyes that fixed on Quellan burned with an outrage that the half-orc knew only too well.

“I am here with the diplomatic party from Arresh,” Quellan said.

“So I am told,” the dwarf said.  “I have heard that you brought a demon-spawn with you in the city.  Is that true?”

“You did not mention my human friend,” Quellan said.  “Perhaps you had something to do with why he is here?”

The dwarf gave him a hard look.  “What do you want, boy?”

Quellan resisted the urge to sigh—“boy” was at least an incremental step better than “orc.”  “I seek knowledge, elder,” he said.

The dwarf’s expression did not give in the slightest.  “You know the words, but even a well-trained animal can be taught tricks.  There is nothing for you here.”

Quellan allowed a bit of the anger he’d kept banked to slip free.  “I am an anointed priest of Hosrenu.”  The dwarf started to protest, but he said, “Beyond that, I am an emissary of the Kingdom of Arresh, with a seal of appointment from the High Priest of Severon.”

“Human authority,” the dwarf said.

“Yes, human authority,” Quellan said.  “Authority that your Council of Elders has already acknowledged.  Now, before either of us says something that we might… regret, allow me to present myself formally.  I am Quellan Emberlane, Priest Initiate of the Monastery of Crosspath, under Abbess Laurine.  To whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

For a moment it looked as though the dwarf would not reply, but finally he said, “I am Akhenon Loremaster.”

Quellan inclined his head in a gesture of respect.  “Loremaster.  May you learn something new this day.”

The dwarf waved his hand in irritation.  “If you absolutely insist on disturbing my work, then we can at least have this conversation in the temple quarters.”  He waved Quellan toward the door, as if the half-orc was the one delaying them.

Quellan kept his face carefully neutral.  _Progress, of a sort,_ he thought.  “As you wish, Loremaster.” He preceded the dwarf into the interior chamber.  The fire gave it a homey feeling that compensated somewhat for the decidedly chilly welcome from its occupant.  “You operate the temple alone?” he asked.

“I have some young aspirants who help keep the place orderly,” the dwarf said.  “I suppose you’ll be wanting something to drink.”

“There’s no need to go to any trouble,” Quellan said.  “Whatever you normally offer to brothers of the faith will be fine.”

He couldn’t help but smile as the dwarf went off into a side chamber, growling to himself.

The room itself looked quite comfortable.  Quellan walked over and examined some of the bookcases.  Many of the volumes were familiar, though there were plenty whose spines were marked only with blockish dwarven runes instead of the softer letters of the Common language shared by the three dominant civilized races of the continent.  Quellan resisted the urge to examine some of the books—that would be rude—and continued his circuit of the chamber.

His gaze lingered on a tapestry that hung on the wall opposite the hearth.  It wasn’t that interesting—there was no historical or literary scene depicted, just a simple geometric pattern—but somehow his attention was drawn to it.  He glanced at the far doorway, but all he heard was a soft clatter of cups as his host prepared refreshments.  Even that sound was a little bit angry, Quellan thought.

He turned back to the tapestry, but before he could examine it a soft click drew his attention to another corner.  There was another device there, a sphere resting in a stone frame that he’d taken for a globe when he’d first come in.  But as he went over to it he saw that it was something else.  The sphere was covered in a complex web of markings, which were being augmented as he watched by a slender stylus that dangled from a thin metal arm attached to the surrounding frame.  The sphere appeared to float in a bowl made of glass or crystal that was filled with a viscous fluid.  The sphere was rotating very, very slowly in that liquid, which coated the part of it that stuck out above the rim of the bowl with a glistening sheen.  As Quellan leaned in close, fascinated, he saw that the stylus was leaving its marks not on the sphere itself, but on that thin layer of liquid.  The rotation of the sphere was causing the marks left by the stylus to create a spiral orbit, one that was slowly contracting so that the marks never quite overlapped. For the most part those lines were straight, though he noted small bumps that appeared at irregular intervals.

“Don’t touch that!” Akhenon said from the doorway.  “It’s extremely delicate.”

Quellan looked up to see the dwarf cleric standing there, holding a small tray that supported a couple of porcelain cups.

“Is this a seismograph?” Quellan asked.

The dwarf gave him a suspicious look before he nodded.  “Yes.  It senses disturbances in the underlying strata that surrounds Ironcrest.”

“Do you get a lot of earthquakes here?”

“Some.  Come away from that, you’ll disrupt the readings with your clopping around.”

Quellan doubted that the thing was sensitive enough to detect footsteps—if that were the case, then every service in the temple would ruin the results—but he went over to the chairs by the fire where Akhenon took his drinks.  The dwarf thrust a cup into his hand.  Quellan smelled the steaming liquid then took a sip.  It was incredibly bitter, but with the dwarf’s eyes on him he was able to avoid betraying a reaction.

Akhenon looked a little disappointed; he took a deep swallow from his own cup, ignoring the heat of the liquid.

“I am impressed that you are able to find fresh lilisqua leaves in these mountains,” Quellan said.  He took another sip for politeness then put the cup down on the small table next to the chair.

“You know your herb lore,” Akhenon said.

“The Abbess at Crosspath encouraged her acolytes to pursue diverse fields of study.”

The dwarf didn’t venture an opinion on that.  He settled back in his chair and fixed his hard stare on Quellan.  The half-orc, used to such examinations, just say quietly and prepared to wait him out.

The Loremaster took another swallow of tea and put the cup down on the small table.  “So, I believe we were going to talk about why you and your companions are here.”

“You know about the book,” Quellan said.  “The Elderlore Libram.”

The dwarf priest paused at that, but only for a moment.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “We do not forget our history the way that humans do.”

“If they had forgotten, we would not be here.”

“I did invite you in here to engage in games of rhetoric.”

“Very well.  Let us talk about Bredan Karras, and the key.”

Akhenon said nothing, just studied the half-orc under his furrowed brows.  Quellan met that gaze with equanimity, and after a seemingly long interval that was perhaps ten seconds he started in surprise.

“You have it,” Quellan said.  “You have it here.”

The dwarf’s eyes flicked aside, just for an instant, but that was enough to draw Quellan’s attention.  He turned and looked across the room at the tapestry that had attracted his scrutiny earlier.  He rose from his chair and walked across the room to face it.

Akhenon scowled but after a moment he too rose and joined the half-orc.  The dwarf reached up to the silver holy symbol around his neck and chanted a brief incantation.  The tapestry shimmered and disappeared, replaced by a steel door recessed deeply into the stone wall.  It was a disk maybe five feet across, and it evoked for Quellan a memory of a similarly-shaped barrier in the shrine in the southern Silverpeak Valley, not so long ago.

“I am custodian of this Lorevault,” the dwarf said.  “Within it are the rarer and most important of our histories and other books of knowledge and power.”

“You keep your histories locked up behind a steel door?” Quellan asked.

“We preserve our traditions,” Akhenon shot back.  “And from what I have heard of you and your friends, you should know better than most that some kinds of knowledge are dangerous, and must be controlled.”

“I did not mean to challenge your perspective,” Quellan said.  “And the key?”

“As I said, I am custodian of this vault, but it is not mine to open in this instance.”

“We are looking for partners in this,” Quellan said.  “We don’t want the bring the Libram back into the world to gain access to its power.  From all that I have heard, it might be better if it is kept sealed away for all time.  “But recent events have suggested that the power that this book represents is connected to what has been happening in the world.  The rise of Kavel Murgoth is one example.”

“Murgoth was defeated,” Akhenon said.

“Yes, though at a high cost,” Quellan said.  “But that is not the end of it.  Those that facilitated the goblinoid invasion are still out there.  And we have learned that there are other groups as well who may be connected to these mysterious outsiders… and I use that word with purpose.  I do not yet fully understand myself how it is all connected, but we cannot allow them to gain access to the power that the Libram represents.”

“So, you wish to fight them by making the book _more_ accessible.”

“Whatever is happening, it has happened despite the seals that have kept the book protected—isolated—for all these centuries.  For all we know, the Libram may be our only means of fighting back.”

Akhenon turned and walked back over this chair; after a moment the tapestry shimmered and reappeared.  “The god is with you,” he said.  “But it is not I who you need to convince.”

“You could help.”

“My seat on the Council is only advisory.  You and your friends will get a chance to make your case.  The first meeting today was just to take your mettle.”

“As was this one?”

Akhenon put the two cups back onto the tray.  “I need to get ready for the third-shift services.”

Quellan offered a small bow.  “Thank you for the tea, elder.”


----------



## carborundum

Well done, Quellan, well done indeed.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 173

The tour wasn’t even over yet, but Xeeta felt as though she’d walked to Severon and back.  Darik was a competent enough guide, and seemed to know every detail about Underhold, but her legs were burning and her eyes were starting to feel like they had tiny weights attached to them.

She had to admit that the underground city was interesting.  Darik had shown them his promised forges, which had interested Bredan, but then took them to workshops, living quarters, common spaces, the massive water pumps that lifted water from the lake to the upper part of the city, and even a couple of farms.  She would have thought that it was impossible to grow crops inside a mountain, but the dwarves had rigged up a series of mirrors in shafts that allowed sunlight and fresh air to enter from outside.  They’d even ridden in one of the odd lift cars they’d spotted from the entry.  Ascending in one had been interesting, but that was nothing compared to the ride they’d taken _down_ a few levels in one.  Xeeta still wasn’t quite sure her stomach had returned to its usual place.

Ironcrest was a city with many wonders, but Li Syval was also such a place, and Xeeta knew first-hand that such places always concealed darker secrets.  All “civilized” cities she had visited had them, a seedy underbelly where the darker elements that existed everywhere intelligent beings gathered came together.  She didn’t know the dwarves well enough yet to spot what they were hiding from casual view, but she knew it was there.

She did know that the dwarves wanted something from them.  During that hours-long initial meeting the dwarven elders had dodged any references to the key they had come here to get.  But it was obvious that they understood that the outsiders wanted something from them, and that they fully intended to use the leverage that this gave them.

Bredan had been engaged during the initial stages of the tour, asking Darik questions about dwarven metalworking practices and their engineering, but as the tour stretched on he again became distracted and withdrawn.  Xeeta understood his struggle a little better now, but also knew that they would need him to be one hundred percent with them in the coming days.  One of the secrets the dwarves held close was why they had wanted Bredan here.  Xeeta didn’t think that the dwarves wanted to harm them, but that was a long, long way from trusting them or their motives.

They were heading down another long corridor when Xeeta asked, “Are we almost done here?  We’re tired, and it has been quite a long day.”

Darik stopped immediately and turned to face them.  “There is only one more thing that I need to show you.”

Xeeta’s thoughts sharpened immediately at that, and she sensed Bredan straighten as well beside her.  “This thing… this is what Dergan wanted you to show us?” he said.

“Yes.”

“What is it?” Xeeta asked.

“It is easier just to show you,” Darik said.  “Please, it’s not far.”

Xeeta shot Bredan an evaluative look.  “Fine,” he said.

The “not far” was relative, and involved another ride, this time in an enclosed lift that descended through a square shaft over several levels.  An old dwarf clad in armor operated it using a large metal lever built into the frame of the lift.  They descended all the way to the bottom, and when they came to a softly-jarring halt the operator announced, “Darkfall Gate.”

“Darkfall?” Bredan asked.

“We’re here,” Darik said.

When the heavy metal door on the outside of the lift swung open, Xeeta could see what he meant.

They were in yet another cavern, one that extended for several hundred feet ahead of them.  The place was brightly lit, so bright that Xeeta had to blink until her eyes adjusted from the relative dimness that was pervasive through the rest of Underhold.  The light came from over a dozen beacon lanterns that hung from chains throughout the cavern.  They clearly illuminated a massive fortification that stretched across the cavern at its far end.

The Darkfall Gate made the defenses outside Hightown above seem feeble by contrast.  It was as if someone had taken a whole castle and just slapped it down here in its entirety.  The Darkfall Gate had battlements, turrets, and yes, a gate, another massive stone barrier that she could see clearly even from the far side of the cavern.  The dwarves that clambered over the defenses seemed like ants.

“Follow me, but please don’t wander off here,” Darik said, starting across the cavern.  It looked as if the place had been a natural feature at some point, but the dwarves had worked it until it was as flat and level as the smoothest street.  Xeeta could see side-chambers that looked like storerooms or workshops; the clatter of metal being worked issued from some of them as they passed.  The Darkfall Gate was almost like another small city within the city, with everything focused on the barrier that they were approaching.

As they got closer, Xeeta could see that the defensive features of the Gate faced away from them.  Multiple sets of stairs and steeply sloping ramps led up to the battlements, which rose to roughly half the height of the cavern ceiling.  From this side she could also see the huge mechanisms that operated the main gate, each of the gears several times the size of the dwarves that tended it.  She wondered briefly at what provided the power to work those gears; it was doubtful that even the combined strength of every dwarf here could open the giant doors.

“What does this gate protect against?” Bredan asked.

“Few on the surface are aware of this, but there is a whole other world that exists under the one that you know,” Darik said.  “There are entire civilizations down here that never see the light of the sun.  And other things as well, monstrosities that rival anything you may have confronted above.”

“If they’re so dangerous, why don’t you just collapse all of these caverns?” Xeeta asked.

“If that alone would keep us safe, then we would do it,” Darik explained.  “But masses of earth and stone alone are not a sufficient barrier against some of these dangers.  By maintaining this outpost, we retain the ability to strike out against someone who is trying to assail us.  And there have been many who have tried.”

“So, this is what you wanted us to see,” Bredan said.

“Yes, and one other thing, if you are willing,” Darik said.  “It lies just beyond the Gate.”

“Beyond…” Xeeta said.  “But if those dangers you mentioned are as you said…”

“There is risk,” Darik acknowledged.  “But the place I would show you is not far, and we send frequent patrols into the closer tunnels.  I cannot compel you, but the Council of Elders wished you to see what is in the Lakeshore Grotto.”

Again, Xeeta looked to Bredan, who from his face was clearly not trusting but at the same time was driven by the desire to know, to understand what had brought him here, how it was connected to the changes that were happening to him.  She was not surprised when after a moment he nodded.  “Show us, then.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 174

Making the decision to accompany Darik beyond the Darkfall Gate turned out to be easy compared to the elaborate production that was actually _getting_ beyond the Gate.

All of the dwarven sentries that they encountered seemed to know Darik, but that didn’t keep them from scrutinizing his credentials twice and asking him in-depth questions about his two companions.  To be fair they didn’t seem to give Xeeta any more scrutiny than they did Bredan, but maybe that was due more to the intense look on her human friend’s face than from any tolerance toward tieflings.  At one point they were all forced to walk through a rune-encrusted arch that made Xeeta feel a sensation similar to the one they’d experienced on their initial entry into Underhold.  She assumed that it was likely magical, and for a brief moment she could feel the Demon stirring within her in response before they were through and she could quickly tamp it down.

Darik didn’t have the guards open the massive main gates, but instead took them to a sally port accessed within one of the squat towers that guarded the wall.  To get to that they had to pass through two steel doors, the second of which swung open to reveal a narrow passage that could barely accommodate Bredan’s wide shoulders.  The walls to either side were generously populated with ominous dark slots that looked just big enough to accommodate a spearhead, and when she looked up she could see that the low ceiling was buttressed by steel struts that likewise suspiciously disappeared into openings in the walls.

“Rigged to collapse,” Darik said from ahead.

“You certainly have a lot of security,” Xeeta said.

“It’s called the Darkfall Gate for a reason,” the dwarf said.  “If it falls, then darkness will sweep over Ironcrest and destroy everything that we’ve worked so hard to build.”  He’d paused briefly in the guardroom to equip himself with a helmet, shield, and battle axe.  He’d offered his companions their choice of weapons, but again they had declined.  Bredan did accept a lantern, a heavy device that swung on a thick pole that itself looked as though it could be used as a flail in a pinch.  Xeeta was starting to feel a nervous itch from all of the preparations.

“Are you certain we do not need an escort for this?” she asked.  One of the officers who’d challenged Darik had asked the same question, but he hadn’t pressed it when the dwarf had refused.

“We’re less likely to draw attention if we keep the group small,” Darik said.  “We won’t be going far from the Gate, just the portions that are well-patrolled.”

Xeeta tried to gauge Bredan’s reaction, but her young friend had gotten a lot better at concealing his feelings over the last few months.  Trying not to provoke the Demon, the sorceress gently reached out to her magic.  She summoned the protective aura of _mage armor_, feeling better once she felt the invisible barrier settle around her.

Darik was waiting beside what had to be the outer door, another slab of solid steel.  The mechanism in the center drew back six steel bars that would have held against anything short of a battering ram, based on their thickness.  Xeeta tensed as the dwarf swung the heavy door open, but nothing materialized from the darkness to attack them.

Despite the massive scope of the cavern that held Underhold, Xeeta had expected something else from the tunnels beyond the dwarven city.  Maybe it was all of the legends and stories she’d been told of the world under the surface, or maybe it was just her own preconceptions, but she thought that they would be creeping through narrow tunnels and claustrophobic spaces where anything might be lurking.  There was some of that, to be true, and she regarded the side-passages they passed with suspicion.  But for the most part, the terrain they covered was unlike anything she could have predicted.

The landscape of the underworld was complex and expansive.  They walked through caverns that could have swallowed the monumental structures of Severon several times over.  There were chasms that looked like they might descend forever, and high vaulted ceilings that the light of Bredan’s lantern couldn’t begin to reach.  They passed a cliff face that held what looked like a hundred cave mouths, some of them fifty or more feet above their heads.  Xeeta tensed there, feeling invisible eyes marking their passage, but Darik led them quickly by and nothing sinister stirred to threaten them.  Their journey would have been a lot shorter if they could have taken a direct path, but the web of caverns had clearly not formed with the convenience of travelers in mind.  Darik seemed to know where he was going, and did not stop to check a map or other guide, but Xeeta realized that it would be very easy to get lost down here.

But just as she was about to say something to Bredan they reached their destination.  This was another cavern that bled into the one they’d been walking through.  Its floor was well below where they came in, and they had to descend along a steep slope that hugged one of the walls.  It wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle, but it occurred to Xeeta that she would not want to have to make the climb while under attack.  The air was damp here, and the bare rock was slick in places that forced them to carefully place each step.  Darik reached the bottom well before his companions and waited for them at the shore of the underground lake that gave the place its name.

The Lakeshore Grotto was peaceful and might have even been pleasant, if not for the wary mindset that all of the dwarves’ security precautions had placed in Xeeta’s mind.  The lake filled most of the cavern, leaving a crescent-shaped shoreline that extended from the base of the ramp.  For a moment Xeeta wondered if this body of water connected with the one that filled the bottom of Underhold, but after a moment she dismissed the thought.  From all that she’d seen she doubted that the dwarves would miss such a glaring vulnerability in their defenses.

Bredan looked a little impatient as they joined their guide.  Xeeta noticed him opening and closing his hands, as if he was right on the brink of summoning his sword.  A crust of minerals crunched under their feet as they approached the water’s edge.  “Well, we’re here,” Bredan said.  “What did you want us to see?”

Darik reached into his pocket and drew out a thick, stubby wand.  “Watch your eyes,” he said.

He did something with the end of the wand and a bright light exploded from its tip.  It was a flare, Xeeta realized, blinking as she tried to adapt to its intensity.  It took her a few moments, but when she could see again she sucked in a startled breath.

The flare had driven the darkness well back.  Its radiance extended for more than twice the distance of Bredan’s lantern.  It illuminated a vast swath of the cavern wall behind them, and it was that which had drawn Xeeta’s attention.  Seeing that, Bredan turned and looked for himself, staring up at what the light had revealed.

Someone had painted a huge mural on the wall.  The quality of the artwork was primitive at best, but the artists had made up for it in scale.  The painting extended from shortly beyond the ramp to well out over the lake, and while it never quite reached the ceiling, it did not appear to be from lack of trying.

The figures were crude, the colors garish, with the bright red of freshly-spilled blood featuring prominently.  For the mural’s topic was violence, and specifically the violence of war.

It didn’t take long for Xeeta to make out the targets of the artist’s ire.  Darkfall Gate was central to the scene, the huge wall shattered and aflame, and then a space that was clearly meant to be the interior of Underhold.  There was a lot of creativity shown in the number of ways that dwarves could be killed.  The attackers were somewhat more nebulous.  They stood somewhat larger than the dwarves, with monstrous faces full of oversized teeth and long claws that hooked like sickles.  They had been painted using dark pigments that made it difficult for Xeeta to make out more details, even in the light of the flare.

“Who painted this?” Bredan asked.  “Who are those… things?”

“Trolls,” Darik said.  “Deep trolls.  One of the more organized of our many foes, from the Dark World.”

“Trolls?” Xeeta asked.  She gave the mural a second look.  She didn’t notice the water of the lake start to ripple, about twenty paces behind her. “Those don’t seem like any trolls I’ve ever heard of.”

“The ones down here, they’re almost a different race,” the dwarf said.

“This must have taken a very long time to make,” Bredan said.  He stared at the grim painting as if it hid deeper secrets for him.  Maybe it did, Xeeta thought.  Whatever had happened to her friend, it seemed to give him a strange insight into things that tended to mystify her.

“They have been down here for a very long time,” Darik said.  “I can give you a closer look of one, there’s a specimen that they keep preserved down at the—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as Xeeta suddenly felt something hard twist around her ankle and pull her down.  She let out a surprised cry as she fell to the ground.  The sound was eclipsed by a wild splashing from the edge of the lake behind her as a _thing_ emerged from the water.  It looked like an oversized, distended crocodile, its jaws swollen until they could barely contain the rows of bent, jutting teeth that spilled out from them.  Several long, slimy tentacles extended out from around that gaping maw, one of which was wrapped tight around Xeeta’s leg.

The tiefling screamed as the creature dragged her toward those snapping teeth.


----------



## Lazybones

Just a quick note that I will be doing some traveling starting at the end of next week. The story will be on hiatus for a few weeks during that time.

* * * 

Chapter 175

The alien monster’s huge jaws swelled to fill Xeeta’s vision as the tentacle dragged her inexorably closer.  She tried to pull free, to grab hold of something, but her fingers only scratched painfully on the uneven stone, unable to find solid purchase.

She felt a scream bubble up as the creature lunged forward, but before it could strike Bredan was there, his sword flashing in his hands.  He chopped down and severed the tentacle a scant foot from Xeeta’s ankle, freeing her.  The creature let out a feral cry of pain and turned on him.  It reared up, its jaws snapping out at Bredan’s torso, but before it could impact he summoned a _shield_ that kept those nasty teeth at bay.  The creature tried to engulf the magical barrier, but it held long enough for Bredan to grab hold of Xeeta and pull her free.  But even as the sorceress fumbled to her feet she saw that the creature wasn’t finished.

“Look out!” she warned, but was too late to help Bredan avoid one of the tentacles that came slashing down like a club.  It smashed hard into the warrior’s shoulder from behind, staggering him from the impact.  It slashed around, seeking his neck, but he was able to avoid the probing tendril.  But as the _shield_ dissolved the rest of the creature came lurching forward again.

Bredan turned to meet it, but before he could engage it again Darik came rushing in from the side.  The dwarf slammed his axe down, nearly severing one of the tentacles and damaging one of its stubby legs.  The creature lashed out blindly in pain, driving both warriors back with the frenzy of its struggles.  Its remaining tentacles slashed out wildly like whips, and Bredan suffered another hit, a stinger to the hip that had him grimacing with pain.

Xeeta stepped forward, her eyes ablaze.  Fire lashed from her hands, blasting into the creature’s face.  One of the _scorching rays_ shot into its open maw, searing the interior of its throat.  She let out a ragged cry as the magic poured out of her, then stumbled back as the last of the fiery beams faded.  But some of the power still clung to her, and she stared down at her hands in surprise as red flames continued to engulf them, blazing like a pair of torches.

The lake monster had apparently had enough; it retreated back to the safety of the water, hissing as it immersed its seared mouth.  Bredan and Darik watched it warily until it was gone, then turned to Xeeta.

“Are you all right?” Bredan asked her, coming forward.

“Don’t touch me!” she warned, holding her arms away from her body.  “It’s… I’m okay, it’s not hurting me.”  She turned away, unwilling to let him see the shame in her eyes as she fought to push the Demon back down into its cage within her soul.

Stung a bit by her demeanor, Bredan turned back to Darik.  “What was that thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” the dwarf said.  “Never saw one of those before.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen one before?” Bredan asked.  “I thought you were the expert!”

“I told you, all kinds of awful things live in the deep places under the earth.”  He gave Xeeta a quick look as she continued to struggle with the flames surrounding her hands.  “We should get back.”

As if to confirm the dwarf’s words, a distant sound reached them, a deep, moaning cry.  All three of them lifted their heads, listening until the echoes of the sound faded.  “Yeah, I think that’s a very good idea,” Bredan said.  “Xeeta, you’re sure you’re…”

“I’m fine,” she said.  “Let’s just go.”

Bredan made his sword vanish again and recovered his lantern.  They made their way quickly back up the slope to the other cavern above.  Darik led them swiftly back along their path, Xeeta trailing behind.  Her focus was on her burning hands instead of the route, but Bredan lingered back, making sure she didn’t fall behind.  Through an intense effort of will she kept the flames from spreading, and after a minute or so they faded back into nothing, leaving her hands as they had been.

“Thanks for driving it off,” Bredan said.

“You saved my life, again,” Xeeta said.  “I should have blasted it myself when it was dragging me, but I couldn’t think.  Another second and I probably would have pissed myself.”

“I felt pretty much the same,” Bredan said.  “Do you think… was it just a coincidence, it being there?”

Xeeta looked at Darik, who was a good thirty feet ahead of them, pushing the pace.  Whatever the cry they’d heard had been, it had clearly spooked the dwarf.  “He didn’t hesitate to help us.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.  It wasn’t his idea to take us there, remember.”

“Still, it seems something of a stretch to think that the Council of Elders wants us dead,” Xeeta said.

Darik turned and waited for them at the mouth of another tunnel.  “Come on,” he said.  “Are you all right?  Injured?”  He gestured at Xeeta’s leg.

“I’m okay,” she said.  “Bredan took far heavier hits than I did.”

“I’ll take you both to the infirmary when we get back,” Darik said.

“I’m fine,” Bredan said.  “I’ve taken worse in practice bouts.”

“Better to be safe,” Darik said.  “Some of the things down here… they inject poison or carry spores that can cause a disease if left untreated.  It might hurt diplomatic relations if your arm were to fall off in a few days.”

He hurried forward again, and the other two shared a look.  “Dwarf humor,” Xeeta suggested.

“The wonders of diplomacy,” Bredan said dryly.

They passed several familiar features, and soon they entered another cavern where they could see the reassuring bulk of the Darkfall Gate, surrounded with a bright nimbus of light, waiting ahead.

This time, approaching from the outside, Xeeta was able to study the Gate in more detail.  This side obviously lacked the stairs and ramps and mechanisms on the other side, and looked smooth at first glance save for the uneven notches that formed the battlements at the top.  But as they got closer she could see that the first impression belied a more complex truth.  The wall was marked with hundreds if not thousands of gouges and other scars, some old, some new.  There were a number of places where it looked as though repairs had been made.  Some of the marks looked as though they might have been made by claws, which caused Xeeta to shudder.

They returned to the sally port beside the main gates.  The steel door swung open at their approach and several armored dwarves stepped out to greet them.  They were only permitted to pass after another interview, this one conducted quickly with frequent glances toward the darkness beyond the lights that wreathed the Gate.  Their guards remained close until they had passed through the rune arch again.

“I need to report in to the watch officer,” Darik said.  “I’ll just be a few minutes, then we can go to the infirmary.”

“Really, we’re fine,” Bredan said.  “And we have a cleric with us in case there are any lasting issues.”

“I’d feel better if you let our medics give you a quick check,” Darik said.  “And there is something else in the infirmary you may want to see.  The last part of the story that began with that mural.”

He headed off, and Bredan escorted Xeeta to the one side of the guardroom, where there were a few empty benches.  “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think we need to learn as much as we can about what’s going on here, as quickly as possible,” she said.

“Agreed.  We need to… hey, there’s Quellan!”

Both of them rose as the cleric came in, escorted by another dwarf warrior.  “Are you both all right?” Quellan asked.  “They said you’d gone to the lower gates of the city, but it looks like you’ve been in a fight!”

“Just a minor disagreement with a weird monster,” Xeeta said.  “Apparently this place is thick with them.  What about you?  Did you learn anything at the local temple?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Quellan said.  He looked around in a significant way.  There were several dwarves in other parts of the room, but none of them seemed to be paying any attention to them.  He leaned in and in a lower voice said, “They know about the Book, and have the key.  But I don’t know why they’re interested in Bredan, or whether they intend to let us take the key back to Severon.”

“Our guide went out of his way to show us that Ironcrest is threatened,” Bredan said.  “It could be that they’re setting us up for asking for something significant in exchange for the use of the key.  Have you talked with Konstantin yet?”

“No, he wasn’t in the quarters the Council reserved for us.  I figured I should come look for you first.  Maybe we should stick together from here on out.”

“Darik’s coming back,” Xeeta said.

The dwarven warrior approached them, acknowledging Quellan’s presence with a neutral nod.  “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Lead on,” Bredan said.


----------



## carborundum

Lazybones said:


> Just a quick note that I will be doing some traveling starting at the end of next week. The story will be on hiatus for a few weeks during that time.




As long as you don't leave it on a cliffhanger


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> As long as you don't leave it on a cliffhanger




I make no promises!

* * * 

Chapter 176

The infirmary was located not far from the Darkfall Gate, in a side chamber just off the main cavern.  A small waiting area with several benches gave way to a larger examination room flanked by partitioned spaces that each held one or two beds for patients needing a longer period of recovery.

They were greeted by a scene of apparent chaos as they came in.  A muscled dwarf possessed of a truly explosive beard was struggling with several robed orderlies atop one of the examination tables in the center of the room.  It wasn’t sure what the warrior wanted to accomplish, but it was easy to note the source of his trouble: the shaft of a ballista bolt jutted from his chest.  Blood had soaked into his coat and his beard, and was starting to form puddles on the floor under the table.

“You need to hold still!” one of the orderlies was saying.  “You’re going to bleed out!”

“Bah, it’s just a scratch!” the wounded dwarf insisted.  He managed to pull one of his arms free and lifted a leather flask to his lips.  He was able to get a few generous swallows out before one of the medics snatched it away.

Quellan immediately started forward to help, but the dwarf saw him and started in surprise, nearly poking one of the orderlies in the face with the end of the bolt.  “Orc!” he said.  He fumbled for a weapon that wasn’t there before Darik quickly intervened.  “These are guests of the Council,” he announced.  “From Arresh.”

“Ah,” the injured dwarf said.  “That’s fine, then.  Hello, lass,” he added to Xeeta.  “Koron Deepdelver, at your service.”  He looked like he wanted to offer a bow, but his struggles were getting weaker and the orderlies were able to hold him still.

“I am a cleric,” Quellan said.  “I can help you…”

“No need,” Koron said.  “If it’d hit anything important, I’d already be dead.”

“What happened to you?” Bredan asked.  “How did you get shot?”

“It was that bloody bastard Porvik!” Koron announced with a loud shout.  “If he hadn’t flinched…”

Darik rubbed his forehead.  “You weren’t playing that bloody game again with the siege engines…”

“I would have won, mark me,” the wounded dwarf said.  “Where’s that bloody doctor, I’ve got a shift to finish…”

Quellan started forward again, but before he could intervene another dwarf bustled in.  This one was all business, dressed in a utilitarian apron over his simple clothes, a leather satchel marked with a single dwarven rune slung over one shoulder.  To the surprise of the companions, he wore a sigil of Sorevas around his neck.  He gave the outsiders a bare glance before hurrying over to the table.

“Again, Koron?” he asked.  “Didn’t I just fix you up last week?”

“It’s that bloody idiot Porvik’s fault,” Koron said.  He was starting to weaken, but he still managed to hold onto his flask when one of the orderlies tried to take it from him.

“Hold his shoulders,” the dwarven cleric said.  “This will hurt, but try not to move,” he added to his patient.

“Just do what you gotta do, doc,” Koron said.

“I am a cleric, I can help,” Quellan said.

The dwarf noted his holy symbol and gave him a nod.  “The head of the bolt is buried too deep, we’ll need to push it out through the back before I can heal him.  It looks like it somehow missed the lung, but it still might penetrate it going through.  Keep him steady.”

Quellan nodded and grabbed hold of the patient, who protested weakly.  The dwarf cleric didn’t pause, but seized the bolt and jammed it straight through Koron’s body.  The wounded dwarf’s eyes flashed open and he tried to break free, but the half-orc’s massive hands held him still.  The head of the bolt, glistening with the dwarf’s blood, erupted from his back.  The cleric came around and pulled it the rest of the way out.  Blood jutted from both sides of the wound, but the cleric quickly covered the openings with his hands and cast a potent healing spell.  A bright blue glow surrounded Koron’s body, and he let out a gasp as the power suffused him.  When the cleric drew back a moment later the bleeding had stopped, and as the others watched the gaping hole in his flesh sealed itself.

“Ah, thanks doc,” Koron said.  He lifted his flask toward his lips, but only got it halfway before his eyes drooped shut.  The orderlies gently lowered him to the surface of the table as he began to snore.

“Clean him up, but be careful of the beard,” the cleric said to his assistants.  “He’ll never forgive me if I let anything happen to it.”  He turned to Quellan, and heedless of the blood covering both of them extended a hand.  “Thank you for the assistance.  I am Goran Thunderhammer.”

“Quellan Emberlane.  I was not aware that there were many followers of Sorevas among the dwarves.”

“There aren’t that many, no,” Goran said.

“Underhold’s not a place you’d expect to find adherents of a god whose symbol is the sun,” Xeeta said.

“We honor the god in the aspect of the Life-Bringer,” Goran explained.  “Come on, there’s a sink and some clean towels in the back, you can tell me what brings you here as we wash up.”

It didn’t take long for introductions to be made and for Darik to explain the reason for their visit.  “You get cases like that often?” Bredan asked, gesturing toward the examination room.

“Not many that are quite that dramatic,” Goran admitted.  “But warriors get bored, and when they get bored, they do things that lead them to my door.  But better that than the alternative.  Things have been quiet at the Gate of late, and I’ll happily keep them that way.”

“It wasn’t so quiet at the Lakeshore Grotto,” Xeeta said.

“Monsters are a fact of life down here,” Goran said.  “More dangerous are the intelligent races, like the duergar and the trolls.”

“Speaking of which, I thought our guests could take a look at your prize specimen,” Darik said.

Goran let out a snort.  “I suppose.  But first let’s take care of business.”  He held up his holy symbol, which began to glow as he passed it first across Bredan, and then Xeeta.  “I don’t sense any contagion or infection,” he said.  “But keep an eye on your friends for a few days,” he added to Quellan.

“I will do so,” the half-orc said.

“All right,” Goran said.  “Let’s go visit the menagerie.”

The dwarf took them through a side door that led to a hall that connected to another series of rooms.  This part of the complex apparently went back quite some distance.  They passed several open doorways that led to small storerooms before they came to another iron-bound door.  Goran took out a key and unlocked it.  “Let’s see if we can’t find out what you ran into,” the cleric announced as he pulled the door open.

The chamber beyond the door was narrow but long.  A single lamp that glowed too steadily to be anything other than magical shed provided light.  Niches along the walls held glass cases that held an assortment of small dead creatures preserved in liquid.  Between them were shelves that held books and additional specimens in glass jars.  Goran went to another large book spread out on a reading stand.  “We’ll start with ‘aberrations, aquatic’,” he said.  He began paging through the book.

“I’ll help you track down the monster, but first I wanted to show our guests our friend,” Darik said.

“Hmm.  Very well,” Goran said.  He led them to the very back of the room.  The others followed, Quellan tearing himself away from a case containing a beetle the size of his head, its carapace shimmering in a wild mélange of colors.  The light didn’t quite reach all the way back, but with a snap of his fingers Goran summoned a _light_ spell that drove back the darkness.

The spell revealed a final alcove that was shielded by a heavy black curtain.  The cleric grabbed hold of it, and with a flourish toward his audience yanked it aside.

The companions felt themselves drawn forward.  The alcove was filled with a much larger specimen case, this one fashioned out of nearly transparent crystal.  In it floated a figure roughly Quellan’s size, though there any resemblance to any of them ended.  It was instantly recognizable as one of the creatures from the mural, though the reality was if anything more horrid than the depictions.

“Ugly bastard,” Xeeta said.

“Amazing,” Quellan said.  “So very different from surface trolls.  It looks… almost misshapen.  What’s wrong with its skin?”

“The texture is like rock, and just as hard,” Goran said.  “The shapes vary from creature to creature.”

“It looks like it would have trouble moving,” Xeeta said.

“That is a false impression,” Darik said.  “They can move damned fast when they want to.”

“What’s that on its chest?” Xeeta asked.

“Ah, you noticed,” Goran said.  He stepped forward and held up the light so they could get a better view.  The slight irregularities in the crystal fractured the radiance, but they could just make out the outlines of a shape seemingly etched into the creature’s stony hide.  It looked almost like a collection of random scratches at first, but they weren’t scars, but rather embedded into its flesh.

“They all bear these marks?” Quellan asked.

“All of the adults that we encounter,” Goran said.  “We first noted them about a year ago.”

“Does it mean something?” Xeeta asked.  “Do you recognize it, Quellan?”

The half-orc shook his head.  Goran explained, “We have not been able to make any sense of it either.  It doesn’t match any language or rune that is known to us.”

Xeeta looked over at Bredan, who was staring at the mark.  He leaned in until his face was almost touching the crystal.  “Bredan?  Do you know what it is?  Bredan!”

He jolted a bit as she touched his arm.  “No.  I don’t know what it means.”

“Are you okay?” Quellan asked.

Bredan said, “Sorry.  Just tired, I guess.  It’s been a long day, and I guess that creature took a bit more out of me than I thought.”

“I’ll see you to your quarters,” Darik said.  “I’ll come down later and help you trace that beastie,” he added to Goran.

“Of course, of course,” the cleric said.  With one more look at the companions, he drew the curtain back over the dead creature.


----------



## Lazybones

Story update: I just finished Book 8 today. I'm about 45 posts ahead at the moment, so plenty of story left to go.

I envision that _Forgotten Lore_ will go for a total of 10, maybe 11 books altogether. The story is currently at 281k words and probably has another 100k or so left to go.

Just a short update today. We'll be back to Tal Nadesh on Wednesday, which will be my last post for a while.

* * * 

Chapter 177

The cycles of the sun did not penetrate into Underhold, but the dwarven city operated according to its own schedule.  The dwarves and their machines never truly rested, but during Third Shift most of the heavier industrial works slowed and ceased, and a relative quiet descended over the cavern.  This allowed for necessary maintenance but also gave most of the dwarves a chance to rest.  Those dwarves that worked Third Shift adapted to the noise during their off hours, and some claimed that the subtle vibrations in the rock even helped them to sleep better.

It was the middle of Third Shift, and most of Ironcrest was asleep, both Hightown and Underhold.  The visitors from Arresh were ensconced in the guest quarters provided by the dwarves.  Eyes watched over them but maintained a discreet distance.

In a small, private chamber elsewhere in the vast cavern complex, a group of dwarves held a meeting.  The room contained a stone table and four chairs, three of which were occupied.  The only light came from a small iron stove.  The faint glow from the slots in the front revealed the faces of Akhenon Loremaster and Dergon Steelshield.  The third individual, seated on the other side of the table, remained just a vague shadow.

“That was a risk,” Akhenon said.  “If the envoys had died, it could have created great difficulties for us.”

“It was a necessary risk,” Dergon said.  “We need to flush our adversary out into the open.  Time is running out, we know this.”

“What of the cleric?” the shadowed figure asked.

“I am not yet certain,” Akhenon said.  “He is powerful.”

“And the boy?” Dergon asked.

The other two looked at the dark figure.  For a moment he just sat there in silence, then he finally said, “We will have to wait and see if today’s events have produced any result.  Though it is ironic.  With our own house in disarray… the Arreshians may be the only ones we can trust.”

Akhenon nodded.  “I think….”  He trailed off as an abstracted look came over his features.  He reached into a pocket of his robe and took out a small blue gemstone that flickered in his hand, a faint light pulsing from within.

“Is that…” Dergon began.

The cleric rose suddenly.  “It appears, gentlemen, that we have even less time than we thought.”


----------



## carborundum

Dun-dun-DUHN!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 178

The morning sky was overcast and a cool breeze blew as Glori, Kosk, and Embrae made their way along a lightly wooded path on the western outskirts of Tal Nadesh.  They were far enough from the core of the elvish city that they could have pretended that they were alone, save for the light tread of the three soldiers who shadowed them from ten paces behind.  The leaves in the trees rustled in the soft wind, and occasionally an insect buzzed by, taking a brief interest in them before continuing on its business.

“I still say that this is a bad idea,” Kosk said.  “These elves know more about what’s happening than they’re letting on.  No offense,” he added in an aside to Embrae.

“You won’t get any disagreement from me,” the elven monk said.

“We’ve already covered this,” Glori said.  She adjusted the strap holding her lyre as she walked.  She was back in her full traveling kit, including the chain shirt that Bredan had given her as well as her bow, sword, and dagger.  It was a bit awkward carrying it all, especially after a few days spent in more normal attire, but she felt better having her usual adventuring gear on her person.

Kosk had no difficulty; he carried just his staff, the bracers holding his throwing knives, and a small leather satchel.  “I know we’ve talked about it, but it’s suspicious.  Why would the elvish council suddenly be so interested in letting us go on this expedition?  They went from stonewalling us to suddenly being eager to have us go into this sacred forest of theirs, where conveniently there’s no way to contact anyone…”

“They weren’t lying about that,” Embrae said.

“It doesn’t matter, either way,” Glori said.  “I agree with everything you’ve said, and yes, it could be that they just want us out of Tal Nadesh, and out of their hair.  But even if they’re lying about the key, we still need to find the Druid, for Javerin’s sake.  And if there is something deeper going on, I’d still rather be doing something than staying in that cozy little cottage in Tal Nadesh, waiting for something to happen.  You don’t have to go, in fact it might be better if one of us were to stay, just in case…”

“You can stop that right there,” Kosk said.  “Bredan and Quellan would each kill me if I let something happen to you.  And I have my own reasons.”

Glori glanced over at him, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was not going to elaborate.  She looked past him at Embrae, who was carrying even less gear than Kosk, without even a simple knife at her belt.  At least she’d traded in her flowing robe for functional traveling clothes and actual boots.  The elven woman remained something of an enigma to Glori.  After the meeting with the Advisory Council she’d confronted her about her knowledge of the Druid and the Reserve.

“Why didn’t you say anything about all this before?” Glori had asked her.

“To be honest, it did not even occur to me,” the monk had told her.  “My apprenticeship to become a Tender was brief and took place many years ago.  It was even a different Druid back then; the man in the position now was a senior Tender back then that I barely met.  You have to understand, I only ever thought of the position as ceremonial.  The Druid isn’t really even part of the government, he’s something separate and isolated.  I certainly never thought of him as possessing magical power beyond that of the clerics and wizards of the court.”

“But he controls the Reserve,” Glori had persisted.

“Not in the sense that you are thinking of it,” Embrae had replied.  “It’s not something that can be controlled like that.”

But _someone_ was controlling power behind the scenes, Glori thought as she returned to the present.  There was something off in Tal Nadesh; she’d felt it even before the anonymous strike against Javerin.  Whatever it was, she doubted that they were finished.  She would have to trust her instincts, going forward.

The trees around them thinned ahead as they came to a broad clearing.  The path ended in front of a pleasant-looking house.  It looked quite ordinary, although it possessed the same intricate features and decorative touches that they’d seen elsewhere in Tal Nadesh.  A walk of uneven stone steps led past a small pond to a raised deck and the front door.  Advisor Lendelaine was waiting for them there on a covered bench beside the pond.  He rose to greet them as they approached.

“Princess,” he said first to Embrae.  “Ambassador,” he added with a nod toward Glori.  “Master Stonefist.”

Glori’s surprise must have showed on her face, for Lendelaine said, “Oh, did you not know?  You were indicated as the second-ranked emissary on the paperwork that we were sent from Arresh prior to your arrival.  With the Ambassador… incapacitated, you assume that authority.”

Glori resisted the urge to grit her teeth.  The Advisory Council had elected to leave that bit of information out of the conversation during their meeting yesterday.  Embrae sent her a knowing look, as if to say, _I told you so_.  “Thank you, Advisor,” Glori said.  “I appreciate you waiting for us.”

“Of course.  Shall we meet your escort?”  He gestured toward the front door of the house.  “We have arranged for a group of Rangers to accompany you on your mission,” Lendelaine said.  “Their leader is somewhat… assertive, but she has experience with the Reserve.”

“I thought that only Tenders were allowed inside,” Glori said.

“For the most part that is the case, but there are occasionally there is a need such as this one… and sometimes something makes its way to the border that the Tenders cannot handle, but which needs to be dealt with before it can escape.”

“That sounds rather ominous,” Kosk said.

“Such occasions are infrequent,” Lendelaine said.  “The whole point of the Reserve is for us to minimize our interference.”

The interior of the house contained an odd juxtaposition of styles.  The door swung open onto a broad foyer, with natural light pouring in through tall bay windows and a pair of narrow skylights.  An open arch carved to resemble flowering vines led into a long chamber where a number of people were moving about.

As Lendelaine escorted them into the room Glori could see that the house was currently serving as an armory.  Racks along the walls held a wide assortment of weapons, including small and large bows, swords of all shapes and sizes, a matching variety of knives, and some more exotic items that Glori had never seen before.  There were also suits of armor arranged on wooden mannequins, and shelves that contained enough goods to fill a considerable general store: packs, leather harnesses, pouches, cloaks, tents, rope, waterskins, and packets of what Glori assumed were various kinds of supplies.

A portion of the gear was spread out across three large tables that dominated the center of the room.  Most of the activity was there, where five elves clad in dark green and brown clothes were checking their equipment.  As they turned to regard the new arrivals Glori could see that there were three women and two men.  One of the women came over to greet them.

Glori could tell at once that the elven woman was not pleased.  She had a look to her that Majerion would have called “hard-edged.”  Faint scars were visible along the line of her jaw on the left side of her face.  She wore her pale hair cut very short, an unusual style for elves.  She gave the three of them a long, evaluative look, then gave Embrae the slightest nod of acknowledgement.  Her lips twisted into a frown as she looked at Glori, but that deepened into a scowl when she shifted her attention to Kosk.

“You can’t be serious,” she said to Lendelaine.

“I was not aware that there was any ambiguity to your orders, Patrol Leader Shreskra,” he returned.  The official’s tone was stern, but the elven woman did not yield anything to it.  The other four elves were all quietly watching, Glori noted.

Shreskra sent a meaningful look at Glori’s lyre.  “This is not a stroll through a forest glade,” she said.  “The Reserve is dangerous.  It will be a difficult journey, and there aren’t any inns along the way.”

“We’re used to roughing it,” Glori said.  She was tempted to show her, conjuring some magic with the lyre the woman was so quick to dismiss, but resisted the urge.  Majerion had taught her when empty gestures were necessary and when they only complicated a situation.  This was clearly one of the latter instances.  A woman like this would not be impressed with magical tricks; the only thing that could win her over was actions that proved their mettle.

“I hope so,” Shreskra said.  Turning her attention back to Lendelaine, she said, “I want it understood that in the Reserve, I am in command.  I don’t care who these people are, or how important they are.”  At that last statement her eyes flicked briefly to Embrae, telling Glori that the Patrol Leader knew exactly who she was.  “I won’t risk the lives of my team if one of them does something stupid.”

“That’s enough,” Lendelaine said.

“The Patrol Leader’s statements are reasonable,” Glori said.  “I would likely say the same, if I was in her position.  I’ll just say that we’re not here for a casual visit.  A woman’s life is at stake, and probably more than that.  We’re here because of that, so we’ll follow your lead, as long as you get us to the Druid.”

“Is that acceptable, Patrol Leader?” Lendelaine asked, in a tone that indicated his patience was nearly at an end.

“We’ll see,” Shreskra said.

“All right,” Lendelaine said.  “Transportation to the border of the Reserve has been arranged and should be here shortly.  You will meet up with your guide there, a retired Tender who knows the best route to the Green Tower.”  He looked around the room.  “Where is the final member of your expedition?”

Shreskra let out a snort.  “He went to avail himself of the washroom some time ago.”

Lendelaine nodded.  “Then I will leave you to introduce your team and see that our guests have everything that they need.  I will take my leave of you now, Ambassador,” he said to Glori, before turning to Embrae.  “Might I have a brief private word, first?”  Glori could see the effort he made to avoid using her title.  Embrae shot her a quick look before nodding in agreement.  They didn’t leave the building, but retreated back to the foyer where they conversed in low voices.

“Well, come on then,” Shreskra said.  She took them over to the tables, where the Rangers were waiting.  Starting from her left, she gestured at each of them in turn and said, “That’s Darethan, Loriellan, Razelle, and Tenaille.  Darethan is our archery specialist.  Razelle is our best scout.  Tenaille is a climber and knife-fighter.  Loriellan just looks pretty, for the most part.”

“And I do it so well,” the Ranger said.

“I am Glori, and this is Kosk,” Glori said.  “I’m a bard.  I can heal, conjure illusions, and cast fear into the minds of our enemies.  Kosk is a monk of the Open Fist.  We’re here to get to the center of the Reserve and find the Druid as quickly as possible.”

The elves just nodded.

“All right, let’s get you geared up,” Shreskra said.  “Rangers, help our new friends get what they need.  On this trip, everyone carries their share.”  She shot a meaningful glance at the foyer, but Embrae was still engaged in a heated exchange with Lendelaine in low voices.

“We don’t have a problem with that,” Glori said.

Shreskra looked past Glori just as she heard footsteps coming from the hall that led to the back of the house.  “Finally,” the Patrol Leader said. 

Glori turned to see Majerion standing there.

None of the Rangers happened to be looking her way, so none of them saw her flinch.  _He_ saw, however.  Kosk, standing beside her, must have sensed something, for he said quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said.  “Go on, I’ll be there in a moment.”

She walked over to him.  She could feel her neck and cheeks coloring and imagined that the eyes of everyone in the room were on them.  But she forced herself to stand calmly, or at least as calmly as she could manage; she had no illusions that she was fooling her former mentor.

“Could I have a word?” she asked.

Majerion made a short formal bow and allowed himself to be led back into the hall.  When they were out of sight of the others in the armory she spun to face him.  “What is this about?” she asked.

“I have always wanted to visit the Reserve…”

“This is not some casual trek into the wilderness,” she said, wishing that she wasn’t just aping Shreskra’s words from earlier.

“I am aware.”

“If this is about… if you think this will change what’s between us…”

“My dear, not everything is about you,” he said.

“I could ask the Advisor to forbid you from coming,” she said.

At that some of his practiced ease faded, and a hard look came into his eyes as he fixed them on hers.  “I do what I want,” he said.  “Since you seem to have forgotten that about me, let me be clear.  No one tells what I can or cannot do.  Not you, not the King, and certainly not the Advisory Council.”

He stepped closer for a moment.  “I hear our ride is coming soon, better grab something for the road.  Remember what I taught you: always be prepared.”

He headed back into the room, casually strumming the bars of a traveling song on his lyre.  It was one of the many such songs that he had taught her.

Glori lingered a moment to take a steadying breath, and then followed him.

The others were checking their packs.  Embrae had rejoined them; Lendelaine was gone.  The elf monk looked up as Glori came over to the tables.  “Is everything all right?” Embrae asked.

Glori refused to look over at Majerion, who was telling a joke to several of the Rangers a few feet away.  “Wonderful,” she said.  “Just wonderful.”


----------



## Lazybones

I'm back!

* * * 

Chapter 179

Under different circumstances, Glori thought that she might have enjoyed the journey from Tal Nadesh to the border of the Reserve.

On seeing the conveyance provided by the elves, her first thought had been, _Nice carriage… but where are the horses?_

The elves had begun boarding the vehicle before anyone had thought to explain to her that the carriage was magical.  The driver sat in a seat in the front, where he had an array of control mechanisms set out in front of him.  Glori might have liked to investigate further, but Shreskra was impatiently directing her into the passenger compartment.  She and her Rangers clambered up onto the exterior, where they settled into precarious-looking seats.

Glori would have preferred riding with them, despite the obvious lack of safety features, if it would have gotten her out of riding with Majerion.  Her mentor had quickly boarded the carriage with Kosk and Embrae, leaving her little choice but to follow.  The compartment held two padded benches, forcing the four of them to squeeze in together to fit.  She’d barely settled into the seat before Shreskra barked a command and the driver started the carriage forward.

The vehicle moved swiftly, and Glori was grateful of the seat’s padding before too long.  The road was of better quality than most in Arresh, but at the speed they were traveling every little bump was amplified.  At that point she was _definitely_ glad that she wasn’t riding up top.  Every time the vehicle encountered a particularly hard jolt she had to resist the urge to look out the windows to see if one of the Rangers had been knocked clear.

Her ire was only bolstered by the fact that Majerion was a perfect traveling companion.  He played his lyre, the rough road giving him no difficulty whatsoever.  He recounted elaborate stories and told jokes that even had Kosk smiling a few times.  It was typical for her companions to get annoyed with each other whenever they spent a long day traveling.  But Majerion’s performance—and Glori recognized it as such—did not become tedious or repetitive even as the day stretched on.  He was keeping them distracted from the hazards of their high-speed journey and the dangers of the mission ahead of them.  Glori might have even appreciated it if she wasn’t still so pissed at him.

They stopped only once, at a small rest station where robed elves provided food and drink and access to restrooms.  They were back on the road within half an hour, with Shreskra prodding them back into the carriage.  Majerion organized a word game that kept them occupied as the landscape continued to pass them by.  Glori participated, but with ill grace.

_You won’t turn my friends against me,_ she thought.

They did not reach their destination until late afternoon.  The road had been growing steadily worse, and the driver slowed the carriage of necessity until they were traveling at roughly the pace that a real horse-drawn vehicle would have taken them.  Glori could no longer find a position that was comfortable, as the repeated jolts had left her backside universally sore.

The carriage finally rolled to a stop.  Glori could hear the Rangers jumping down from above, then the door swung open to let a ray of brilliant late-afternoon sunshine into the passenger cabin.

“Welcome to Easthaven,” came Shreskra’s voice, but before any of them could respond the Ranger leader was already moving away.

Blinking against the intense light, Glori stepped out into the day.  Easthaven was a small community of wooden houses that had clearly been built with fortification in mind.  They all stood atop thick posts that suspended them about ten feet off the ground.  The architecture was otherwise not that dissimilar from that of Tal Nadesh, although the windows were narrower and the doors sturdier.

Turning away from the settlement, Glori took her first look at the Reserve.
The forest didn’t look any different from much of the countryside they’d spent the day passing through.  There was no obvious boundary, no wall or other barrier to set it apart, but Glori could feel something, a _tension_ that felt almost tangible.  For a moment she experienced an uncomfortable tickling sensation along her spine and thought she could feel unseen eyes watching her…

“Looks like we’ve got a welcoming committee.”

Glori jumped slightly at Kosk’s words, and quickly turned to see an elf approaching from one of the raised houses.  He was clad in simple working kit, a leather vest over a plain long-sleeved shirt and breeches of rugged corduroy.  He lacked the ageless look common to the elves of Tal Nadesh; his face was as rugged as the landscape around them, his features weathered by a lifetime spent outdoors.  His hair was thin and white, covering his scalp like a tuft of cloud.  As he approached them he ran a hand through it in an absent gesture and she noticed that he was missing one of his fingers.

“Tender Brightbriar,” Shreskra said in greeting.

The Tender stopped and gave the group an evaluative stare.  “So… these are the ones who want to visit the Reserve,” he said.  He did not seem to be enthusiastic about the prospect.

Before the Ranger leader could respond, Glori stepped forward.  “We already got the routine from Ranger Shreskra here, so maybe we could just get to business,” she said.

The old elf gave her a second look.  “Fair enough,” he said.  “We’ll enter in the morning.”

“Is there anything unusual happening in the forest?” Embrae asked.

The Tender peered at her, then looked over his shoulder at the Reserve.  “It’s always like that,” he said.  For a moment he looked as though he wanted to say something more, but finally he waved a hand in a gesture of dismissal.  “Come on.  I’ll show you where you will sleep tonight.  There’s food in the common hall, nothing special, but more than you’ll get in there, so enjoy it.”

As he led them off Kosk turned to Glori.  “Are you all right?”

She looked around for Majerion, but he had disappeared again.  “I’m fine,” she said.  With a final look back at the Reserve, she followed after the others.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 180

The next morning they got an early start into the Reserve.  The outer precincts seemed much like any other forest, Glori thought.  The sense of foreboding that she’d felt the previous evening had faded somewhat, although a hint of it lingered, a vague impression that something was just slightly off.

The place was full of life.  Birds flapped through the canopy high above, while on their level the sounds of animals skittering away frequently disturbed the relative quiet of the march.  More ubiquitous were the clouds of bugs that seemed to be following them, a more or less constant annoyance as the day matured.

They made their way single-file through the forest, following the expert guidance of Tender Brightbriar.  As promised, there did not seem to be any kind of permanent trail, but the old elf seemed to know where he was going, and he set a pace that belied his years.  But nothing more threatening than the swarming gnats emerged to threaten them, and by the time that they paused for lunch Glori could almost forget where they were.

Any thought about letting her guard down was countered by the attitude of the Rangers.  The elves behaved as if every fallen tree or cluster of bushes might conceal a hidden foe.  They showed they were veterans in the way they moved together, coordinating their actions so that every angle of approach had a set of eyes on it.  For the most part they were friendly enough with their charges, save maybe Shreskra, but it didn’t take long for Glori to notice that she, Kosk, and Embrae were the focus of the formation that the elves had created, a protective ring centered on them.  It rankled a bit, being treated as though they were helpless, but she understood that it had to be that way, as they were an unknown quantity until they had an opportunity to prove otherwise.

By the time that night began to fall, Glori guessed that they’d covered maybe ten to twelve miles.  Not an especially grueling pace, but enough that her feet were sore as Brightbriar led them into a rocky hollow that had clearly served as a campsite in the past.  Her hands were covered in scratches from the patches of brush they’d had to push through along the route, and her skin itched from sweat and bug bites.  The Tender showed them a tiny spring that Glori might have walked right past if it hadn’t been pointed out to her, and began collecting deadwood for their fire.  With a gesture Shreskra assigned Darethan to watch duty.  The Ranger darted away and vanished into the trees, invisible by the time he’d covered ten steps.

Glori shrugged out of her pack and joined in the work of preparing their camp.  Majerion walked past her to the spring, looking annoyingly fresh despite the long day’s hike.  He began to whistle a soft melody as he washed off his boots and then soaked a rag that he slapped across his neck.

It did not take them long to get settled in.  The fire filled the hollow with light and warmth as the night descended around them.  Loriellan prepared a meal, a hearty stew of root vegetables and barley from their stores.  Brightbriar produced a sack of greens that he’d gathered and a dozen golden mushrooms the size of a man’s palm that he added to the stew.

The Rangers let their charges sit closest to the fire.  They seated themselves on a fallen tree at the edge of the hollow, separating themselves from the rest of the group even in rest.  They spoke quietly amongst themselves as they ate.  Glori could not make out what they were saying, but she noted the easy camaraderie between them.  Shreskra stood behind them at the edge of the firelight, keeping watch on the entire scene.

“This forest doesn’t seem so bad, so far,” Kosk said.

“From what I have heard, it will only get harder as we go deeper into the Reserve,” Majerion said.  “The forest does not suffer intrusion lightly.”

The Rangers shared a few looks of light amusement at that, but Tender Brightbriar’s expression sharpened as he pivoted to face the bard.  “Any why should it not?” he asked.  “This place is pure, pristine, safe from the ravages wrought by your ‘civilization’.  That is one thing that all races have in common, elf or dwarf or human, it does not matter.  Wherever we choose to live, we sow the seeds of destruction.”

The Tender rose and left the camp, leaving a moment of awkward quiet in his wake.  “His name seems well-earned, the latter part at least,” Kosk said.

“A good thing he ended up in this job, I suppose,” Glori said.

“Tenders always take on a new name when they are appointed,” Embrae explained.  “Though I will admit that the sentiment he shared is fairly common among within the organization.”

“Do you share his view?” Glori asked.  “You wanted to be one of them, at one point.”

“I believe in the importance of the Reserve,” Embrae said.  “But otherwise… no, I don’t think that all civilization is bad.”

“I have traveled far and wide,” Majerion said.  “And I can say that all civilizations, all peoples, have their bad and their good.  It is a part of life.  No doubt the same applies to the Reserve.”

Brightbriar returned, his arms full of another load of dead wood for the fire.  He quickly put it down and turned again to leave, but Glori interrupted him.  “Tender, what can we expect as we move deeper into the Reserve?”

The old elf shook his head.  “I cannot predict.  Every time I entered the Reserve was a different experience.”

“Surely you can at least offer some general guidance,” Glori persisted.

“The Reserve is not full of monsters,” Brightbriar said.  “It is _wild_.  There are wild creatures in it, some of which are hazardous.  There are plants that can make you sick if you eat them, and others that can harm you if you go near them.  I will do my best to help you avoid such dangers, and the Rangers can no doubt deal with any other threats.  But you will be best served by the following advice.  Remember that you are strangers here.  Show the Reserve the respect it is due, and it will in turn respect you.  Then we can complete this errand of yours and everything can return to the way it should be.”

He started to turn away again but Kosk asked, “How long will it take to reach the Green Tower?”

“Again, it depends,” the Tender said.

“On what?” Glori asked.

“The mood of the forest,” the old elf replied.

“We should be able to make it in three more days, give or take,” Shreskra said from the other side of the camp.

The Tender acknowledged this with a bow, then crossed the hollow to the site he’d chosen for his rest.  It was well away from the fire, a niche that abutted the exposed roots of an ancient tree.  The old elf adjusted his cloak and then vanished into the narrow opening.  Glori could almost feel his eyes watching them.

“Oh, yeah, this is going to be a fun journey,” Kosk muttered.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 181

Night in the Reserve was almost pure black.  The forest was not quite still, as the breeze rustled the canopy high above and the soft sounds of nocturnal creatures provided a steady background noise.  But in the camp, everything was quiet.  The fire had burned low, the glowing embers barely bright enough to reveal the outlines of the sleeping travelers wrapped tightly in their blankets.

Two of the Rangers kept watch, one in the trees above and one on the edge of the hollow, but neither observed the dark figure that crept out of the camp in the deep hours of the night.  Even the predators that hunted the night failed to note the intruder, who did not stop until it had traveled several hundred feet from the camp.  There it paused in the lee of a fallen tree that had formed a sort of embankment, with fresh growth sprouting in and around the rotten wood as part of the forest’s endless cycle.

Even though the tree offered excellent cover, the dark figure crouched low.  For the briefest instant the faintest glow shone from within the folds of its garments, coming from a small object it carried.  The light was not bright enough to reveal the figure’s face, and it was quickly shrouded between its body and the bulk of the dead tree.  The figure bent over its treasure, and for a few moments there came a sound of whispered words, so soft that someone would have had to been leaning over the edge of the log itself to hear what was being said.

The covert communication, if that was what it was, lasted less than a minute.  Then the figure retraced its steps, returning to the camp.  No more attention was given to its return than to its departure, and soon a perfect stillness returned once more to the dark hollow.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 182

They got an early start the next day, at Shreskra’s urging.  By the time that the faint rays of scattered sunlight that penetrated down through the canopy reached the forest floor they had already covered several miles.  The forest was much the same as it had been the day before, though they passed several places of particularly dense growth where Brightbriar had them take detours rather than try to force their way through.  Even so there were plenty of obstacles that had to be negotiated, from gullies thick with clinging brush to ridges that rose up out of the forest like the spine of some vast buried creature.  Occasionally the Rangers had to break out ropes to help them clamber over some particularly difficult terrain feature, but for the most part they defeated them through simple persistence and effort.

Glori felt fairly well-rested.  Shreskra had refused all offers to help keep watch, and finally the bard had just shrugged and accepted her full night’s sleep.  Her legs were sore but not unbearably so; before their extended stay in Severon she’d been in pretty good shape and that conditioning was returning quickly.  The insects that had bedeviled them the day before quickly returned as the day grew warmer, but she was getting used to that as well.

Around midmorning they came to a stream a few paces across.  They paused to refill their water bottles and wash some of the dust from their faces and necks.  The water was cool and bracing.  Glori would have enjoyed a chance to soak her feet, but it felt like they’d barely stopped before Shreskra was urging them up again.

“The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back,” the Ranger leader said.

Glori needed little urging—the fate of Javerin was never far from her thoughts—but she found herself resenting the elf woman’s attitude.  Shreskra’s reluctance about the mission had gradually changed to an exaggerated paternalism that had nearly provoked the bard into a sharp response.  Glori had faced far worse than what the Refuge offered in the Silverpeak Valley, though she’d had the rest of her friends with her there.  Ultimately it was their absence that had her holding her tongue; she could imagine Bredan and Quellan’s reactions to any tirade she might make, and that helped her keep her cool.

It was around midday and her stomach was staring to grumble when they entered a particularly impressive part of the forest.  The trees around them were massive, ancient sentinels that rose hundreds of feet into the sky.  Some were so thick around the base that Glori doubted that all of the Rangers together could have joined hands around their trunks.  The presence of those giants thinned their rivals around them, which allowed a bit more of the sunlight to filter down from above.  Motes of dust glowed in those bright rays.  It was almost like being in a cathedral, and for a long moment Glori could only stand and stare at the natural beauty of it.  In that moment, she could better understand Brightbriar’s attitude from the night before.  Even the Rangers appeared to be affected by it, though they never fully let down their guard.

As they resumed their trek forward, the wonders of the vaulted canopy had to give way to more prosaic concerns.  The added sunlight also meant denser undergrowth, and soon they were all cursing as they pushed their way through scratching bushes and clinging weeds that tugged at their leggings as they passed.  Only the Tender seemed to be unaffected, and Glori was starting to wonder if he had some magical trick that was letting him win past the forest’s wiles.

Majerion began softly strumming a traveling song, perhaps to lift their spirits, but Shreskra quickly silenced him with a harsh hiss.  Glori paused to pick burrs out of her trousers before they could work their way down into her boots.  She started to turn to offer a comment to Kosk—the dwarf, being the shortest of them, likely had the most reason to complain—but paused as she heard a faint rustling sound from the bushes beside her.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.  She started to reach for her lyre, but her fingers had barely brushed the surface of the instrument when a huge form exploded out of the undergrowth and came charging toward her.

It was at least twenty feet away when she saw it, but it was coming so fast that she barely had an instant to react.  She only had time to register a hulking, four-legged furry form before it was right on top of her.  A scream issued from her lips as she leapt aside.  For a moment she thought she’d gotten clear as it surged past her, but then something clipped her hard on the side and spun her almost completely around.  She fell to one knee and barely kept herself from going all the way down.

She looked up just as her attacker came to a sudden stop maybe five paces past her.  She hadn’t gotten a clear look at it before, but could now see that it was some kind of giant bear, its shoulder coming almost to her chin.  There looked to be something odd about its fur, especially at the front of its body, but she didn’t have time to consider that before it twisted around to face her.

The face… while attached to a body that still looked bear-like, the face was that of a bird, with wide eyes under a ridged brow and a hooked beak that opened impossibly wide as the thing surged forward again to crush her.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 183

For a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden and incongruous appearance of the creature, Glori hesitated.

That moment quite nearly cost her, but even as the owlbear reared up to strike Kosk slammed into it from the side.  The end of his staff cracked into the right side of its face just behind its beak, drawing from it a sharp hiss of pain.  Even as it started to turn he spun the staff around and slammed the other end into the brow just above its left eye.

The response was immediate and violent.  The creature slashed at him with its claws, trying to envelop him in a bone-shattering hug.  The dwarf escaped that, but at a cost of several long slashes to his robe that revealed the bloody rents underneath.  He tried to leap backwards, but before he could get clear the beak snapped down and tore a long hunk of flesh from his left shoulder.  The force of the blow knocked him aside, but he came up in a roll that put him back on his feet, if rather the worse for wear.

The owlbear started after him, but before it could resume its ferocious attack the dwarf’s companions came to his aid.  Glori had recovered and held her lyre, but she realized that any spells she might hurl would be as likely to harm her companions as their opponent.  But the long hours of training that she and Bredan had gone through quickly reasserted themselves, and she let the lyre drop as she drew her sword in one fluid motion.  Due to the dense growth she could not see far past the creature, but she could hear the loud din of battle from further ahead along their path.  It appeared that the creature was not alone, and from what she could hear the Rangers were fully engaged.

That did not stop her from rushing forward, but before she could get close enough to bring her weapon to bear her companions pressed their attacks.  She heard rather than saw Majerion’s contribution, as the creature’s bulk blocked all but a glimpse of his hat before he stabbed at it with his rapier.  The monster hooted in pain, telling her that he’d scored, but it was not enough to turn it from its assault upon Kosk.  But before it could engage him again Embrae darted forward.  The elf woman looked pathetically frail in contrast with the huge creature, but when she drove the palm of her hand into its left foreleg Glori could hear the snap of bone.  The owlbear clearly felt _that_, though the injury did not keep it from a violent sweep of its other claw, one that might have inflicted the same hurt on the monk, had it connected.

In a move that caused Glori to blink in amazement, Embrae launched herself into the air.  She tumbled over backwards, her body spinning gracefully in the air.  She cleared the owlbear’s claws by scant inches, so close that the bard wasn’t one hundred percent sure that they had missed, at first.  The owlbear, driven into a frenzy by the damage it had already absorbed, kept coming.  It lunged for the middle of her torso, its beak snapping to seize her out of the air.  The two of them, monster and woman, seemed to merge together in slow motion as Glori watched.  There was nowhere for Embrae to go to avoid that powerful bite, but even as the creature’s beak started to close she reached out and pressed her hand against its forehead, pushing off so that it caught only empty air.

Time returned to its normal course as Embrae landed on the uneven ground a few paces away.  She came up in a roll that echoed Kosk’s maneuver earlier, her hands flipping back up into a defense stance as she recovered her footing.

Embrae’s escape left Glori facing the owlbear’s fury alone, but this time the bard did not hesitate, thrusting with her sword before it could recover.  She felt the solid impact travel up her arm as the sword pierced its right shoulder.  The creature flinched back.  It lifted its good paw to strike, but she lashed out and struck it another blow that nearly severed several of the bloody claws.  The monster reared, hurt badly now, but its foes kept coming at it from all directions.  She saw Majerion now as he thrust his rapier deep into its flank, moments before Kosk delivered a rib-cracking impact on the other side.  Embrae came forward to stand beside Glori, but her support proved to be unnecessary.  The owlbear was already wavering, and as the companions drew back it tumbled forward.  It landed heavily in the weeds and trampled bushes, huffed out a few labored breaths, and died.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 184

Glori was quick to check on Kosk, but the dwarf was not hurt as badly as it had looked at first glance.  Turning to the front of the column, she saw that the fighting had come to an end there as well.  A second owlbear, even larger than the first, had attacked just moments after Glori had come under attack, but the Rangers had been able to deal with it.  Loriellen and Tenaille had both taken wounds, but none appeared to be life-threatening.  They lacked a cleric in their company, but both Glori and Majerion were able to manage lesser healing spells, and soon all of the serious wounds had been treated.

The question of what had happened, however, took somewhat longer to resolve.

“What were those things?” Embrae asked.

“Owlbears,” Shreskra and Brightbriar replied simultaneously.  Glori nodded; she was familiar with the species, though she had never seen one before.  If Quellan was here he might have made a comment about the book description never living up to the reality.  The thought awakened a pang as she realized how much she missed him.  And the others, of course.

“I’m more interested in how those things managed to ambush us,” Kosk said.  “It’s not like these things were tiny.  I thought elvish scouts were supposed to have sharp eyes?”

For a moment, Shreskra looked to be taken aback, even embarrassed, and Glori was surprised.  But the Ranger leader quickly recovered and turned to Brightbriar, who had escaped the brief but violent encounter unscathed.  “Is it common to encounter such things so close to the edge of the Reserve?” she asked.

The old elf also looked somewhat startled.  “No,” he said.  “The larger monstrosities usually keep to the far side of the Reserve, far away from the Tender outposts.”  He stared down at the two dead creatures as if they were a puzzle he could not quite solve.

“We shouldn’t linger here,” Shreskra said.  “There’s one of those outposts not far from here, isn’t there?  Tender?”

Brightbriar blinked and looked up at her.  “Yes, yes, there is,” he said.  “It’s not especially close, but we should be able to reach it before nightfall.  We should be… we should be safe there,” he said.

“Thanks for distracting it,” Glori said to Kosk as they prepared to move out again.  “And you too, Embrae.  Those were some nice moves.”

“We need to watch each other’s backs in here,” the elf woman said.  She gave the dead creature one more look before following the others along their improvised path.  Glori also glanced at it as she cleaned her sword, then looked up to see Majerion watching her from just beyond the fallen hulk.  The other bard gave her a nod then followed after the departing monk.

“Complicated, eh?” Kosk asked her as she sheathed her blade.

“Yeah,” she said.  “Makes you wonder what fun the others are getting into, doesn’t it?”

“No doubt they’re up to their necks as deep as we are,” the dwarf replied.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 185

Bredan woke in the middle of the night to a feeling of dread.

At first, he did not remember where he was.  It was dark and quiet.  But then he remembered.  Their quarters in Underhold were not especially spacious or well-apportioned, but they each had their own room and vents in the walls let in a constant stream of warm air to banish the cold of the bare stone.

For several long minutes he just lay there.  Somehow, he could sense that it was still Third Shift, the deep of night in the dwarven city.  He did not know how he knew that, or what had stirred him from sleep, but he could feel that something was coming.

Finally, he heard something, a distant thrumming noise.  It was different from the usual sounds of laboring machines that filled the other shifts, and again that strange sudden instinct told him that it was an alarm.

He quickly rose and put on his armor.  When he stepped out into the small anteroom that connected their sleeping chambers, he found Xeeta and Quellan already there.  Konstantin’s door was open, but there was no sign of the wizard.

“What’s happening?” Bredan asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  “But something isn’t right.”

Bredan nodded.  “Let’s go check it out.”

The rhythmic pounding of the alarm was louder once they left the guest quarters and entered the main avenues of the city.  No one stopped them, though the corridors were full of dwarves moving with purpose.  Most of the dwarves dressed in armor and carrying weapons were heading in the direction of the Darkfall Gate, so Bredan and his companions went that way as well.

“Is it an attack?” Xeeta asked, but none of them had any answer.

They ran into Darik near the lift they’d taken the day before.  It was already half-full with armored dwarves, and others continued to pile into it as they hailed the veteran warrior.  “What’s happening?” Quellan asked him.

“It’s an attack on the Darkfall Gate,” the dwarf said.  “I have to go.  You should go back to your quarters, it’s safest…”

“We can help,” Bredan said.  Quellan hefted his shield, showing the symbol of Hosrenu etched into the metal surface, and Xeeta lifted her rod, summoning a flicker of flame that wove around the tip.  Bredan summoned his sword, the long shaft of the weapon shining in the light of the corridor lamps.

Darik hesitated, but at that moment the operator of the lift cried out, “Ready down!”  “All right,” the warrior said, gesturing them forward.  It was a tight fit with the dwarves already packed into the confined space, but they were able to make it just as the doors slid shut and the car began to descend.  Bredan let his sword disappear again, drawing curious looks from some of the warriors.

“Is it the trolls?” Xeeta asked as the lift descended.

“Yes,” Darik said.  “The Gate reported a major assault beginning just minutes ago.  Somehow they were able to get close without setting off the sensors in the temple or at the Gate, but we’re reading something big now.”

“It’s a lucky thing we missed them yesterday,” Xeeta said.

“Will the wall hold?” Quellan asked.

“Nothing’s ever gotten past it,” Darik said.  The lift began to slow, the outer doors starting to rumble open even before it settled to the bottom of the shaft.  As the familiar cavern that held the Darkfall Gate was revealed, the companions saw a scene of chaos in front of them.

It was obvious that the attack was already underway.  Dwarves were rushing up to the battlements atop the Gate, to join comrades who were already unleashing missile fire at unseen enemies beyond.  They could hear them, though, a constant roar of loud hooting and bestial screams that echoed off the walls and ceiling of the cavern.  There was another sound, a deep irregular thrum that was similar to the beat of the alarm drums that filled the main cavern of Underhold above, but which they could tell was somehow part of the assault.

Bredan and the others quickly filed out of the lift to make way for the dwarves that charged forward toward the Gate.  As they watched they could see that what had appeared to be confusion at first glance actually had a structure to it; every dwarf moved with purpose, and everyone seemed to have an assigned place to be.  In addition to the soldiers there were stretcher bearers, ammunition carriers, and engineers laden with tools.

Darik had hesitated with them, clearly wanting to rush to his place but burdened with the obligation of watching over the members of the diplomatic party.  “We can help,” Bredan said again.  “You may not need one more sword, but both Quellan and Xeeta have magic that is perfectly suited to this kind of… situation.”

For a moment longer Darik lingered.  The indecision was clear on his face, his thoughts no doubt warring between the obvious need and the trouble he could create if one or more of them were to get killed defending that wall.  But then a massive roar sounded over the din of the fighting, a bellowing sound that filled the cavern and rebounded off the walls before reaching them.

“Come on,” the dwarf said.  “We’ll need to report in before we can…”

They didn’t hear the rest of what he was saying as another loud bellow followed the first, followed by a monstrous crash.

“Are they attacking the gates themselves?” Xeeta asked.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good,” Quellan said.

They ran toward the wall.  The loud roaring wasn’t repeated, but they could hear the cries of creatures fighting and dying behind the wall, and the dull thumps that grew louder as they approached.  The dwarves fought silently for the most part, save for the orders shouted by their officers as they shifted their forces along the battlements.

Darik led them toward one of the watch stations that were built into the base of the wall on their side, presumably to report in to one of the commanders and see where they were needed.  But before they could reach it, Xeeta yelled a warning.  “Look out!”

The men glanced up in time to see a large object flying over the wall.  It barely cleared the battlements, then dropped onto one of the landings of the staircase that ascended to the wall above the watch station.  It landed with a solid crack, but its momentum carried it forward.  It clipped the edge of the watch station’s roof and then dropped hard onto the ground about ten feet ahead of them.

The object burst open.  It was some sort of husk that looked to be made out of mud and ropy fibers.  The pieces of it fell apart as several trolls clawed their way out of it.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 186

For a moment the companions just stared at this unexpected development in surprise.  The remnants of the husk clung together just enough to give the trolls some pause, but the first one to shrug clear quickly focused on the four individuals standing there watching it.  It snarled and lunged forward.  A second one emerged behind it, followed improbably by a third.  That last one was having some difficulty; something seemed to be wrong with its legs, suggesting that this unusual means of travel was not without cost.

Darik was the first to recover, meeting the troll halfway with a swing of his axe.  The weapon slammed hard into its side, a blow that would have crushed ribs at the least had it struck a normal man.  But the troll merely absorbed the hit with a grunt and lashed out at the dwarf.  Its claws dug into Darik’s mail.  The armor kept them from penetrating far, but it seized hold of him and flung him aside.  The dwarf had to weigh at least fifteen stone, but the troll launched him through the air as if he’d been a sack of potatoes.  He tumbled and landed hard a good ten paces away.

The delay gave Bredan enough time to summon his sword and meet the creature before it could inflict more damage.  Forewarned by Darik’s attack, he was ready for the resistance from the troll’s thick hide, but it still felt like he had struck a stone wall.  The impact sent a hard jolt through his arms into his body.  The force of it knocked the troll back, but only for a moment, and while it was clearly favoring the side where it had taken two solid blows, that didn’t stop it for lunging at Bredan with claws outstretched toward his throat.

Xeeta met the second one before it could join the fray.  She drew its attention with a series of _scorching rays_ that stabbed into its stony form.  For a moment the flashing flames obscured it from view, but when the third and final ray flared out it still stood, burned but not seriously damaged.  The markings etched into its craggy chest were glowing slightly.

“Magic resistant!” Xeeta breathed.  She tried to dodge back, but the troll was faster, lunging forward and striking her with a backhanded blow that knocked her roughly to the floor.  She hit hard but pushed herself up, turning her head to stare at it with eyes that burned with bright flame.  Blood trickled from her lips as she spoke a word of power.  The troll let out a screech as her _hellish rebuke_ surrounded it with a burning intensity that overcame whatever power protected it.  It withstood even that assault, but as the flames started to die Quellan drove it to the ground with a single powerful blow from his mace.

Both immediately turned to help Bredan, but the warrior had finally gotten the better of his foe.  The troll had fallen but was still struggling, even as Bredan finally managed to stab the tip of his weapon through its armored body.  He stumbled back a few steps from the dying creature, grimacing as blood seeped from shallow gashes in his arms.

The third troll still hadn’t gotten itself fully clear of the husk before several dwarves emerged from the watch station and fell on it with their axes and hammers.  Even crippled it died hard, dragging a dwarf down with it before his allies could pull him clear.  Quellan went over to help him while Bredan and Xeeta looked around for additional threats.  It looked like several more of the husk-balls had been hurled over the wall, but the others had all landed atop the battlements.  The dwarven defenders had been quick to surround them, and from what they could see seemed to have the situation well in hand.

“Are you all right?” Darik asked as he rejoined them.  The dwarf was limping slightly, but he still held onto his axe with hard determination.  But before either Bredan or Xeeta could respond another outburst drew their attention back to the wall.

They looked up to see trolls swarming over the battlements directly ahead of them.  There were almost a dozen dwarves there, but they were being pushed back as more of the creatures clambered up over the merlons or squeezed through the gaps between them to join the fight.  From where they stood it wasn’t clear where the creatures were coming from or how they had gained the top of the wall, but it was obvious that the situation had suddenly grown much more dire.

Bredan hefted his sword and shouted, “Come on!” before he sprinted forward toward the stairs.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 187

Bredan lay slumped against the solidity of the Darkfall Gate, utterly exhausted.  His arms and legs felt as though they had been banded with iron weights.  His wounds burned, but they were not too serious; a dwarf medic had examined him briefly earlier but had passed him up for others when it was clear that he was not going to bleed to death.  It could have been worse; if he hadn’t been wearing his armor he might not be there to feel the pain.

He had lost track of how many trolls he had killed.  They died hard, but they did die, eventually.  Quellan had told them that surface trolls regenerated, their bodies healing even deadly wounds in moments.  These trolls lacked that property; at least that was something, Bredan thought.  With their unnaturally thick hides, frenzied strength, and resistance to magic they were otherwise terrible foes.

The fight atop the wall blurred together in his mind, a memory already becoming hazy.  He might forget the details, but he doubted he would ever forget the sheer intensity of it, the surging horde of trolls, the struggle to take even one step forward against that violent rush.  Xeeta and Quellan had completely expended their reserves of magic, the former in explosive displays of magical power, the latter mostly in healing those who otherwise might have died from their wounds.  But both of his friends had been there in the front line as well.

It had been dicey there for a moment, and Bredan remembered thinking that the trolls would sweep them away, that nothing could stop them.  But dwarven reinforcements had arrived just in time, beating back the horde.  Koron had been among them, apparently recovered from being shot through by a ballista.  The dwarf had swept through the troll ranks like a berserker, knocking the bigger creatures back over the wall with blows from a huge hammer.  The weapon had to have been at least twice as heavy as Bredan’s sword, yet Koron had wielded it like a switch.

Bredan was thirsty, but the effort of getting up and going into the adjacent guardhouse seemed impossible at that moment.  He managed to lift his head a bit and look around.  Quellan had gone to the infirmary to help the dwarven clerics treat the wounded; even with his magic depleted his skill and knowledge were still needed.  Xeeta had disappeared somewhere.  Bredan might have been worried about her if he hadn’t seen the look on her face as the fighting began to wind down.  He understood that she needed some time alone.

He didn’t see his friends, but he did see Darik approaching.  The dwarf warrior looked as beaten and battered as Bredan felt, but that didn’t stop him from moving briskly and with purpose.  He saw Bredan and hailed him.

“Are you all right?”

“It looks worse than it feels,” Bredan said.  “How about you?”

“I’m not looking forward to later, when I have time to hurt,” Darik said.  Bredan chuckled.  The dwarves as a whole might be mysterious and troublesome, but this one was all right.

“You seem to be in a hurry,” Bredan said.

Darik nodded.  “We’re sending a small force out through the Small Gate,” he said.

“To make sure they’re all dead?”

“That, and to see if we can learn anything.”

Bredan nodded, then with an effort he pushed himself up.  He did not want to admit how much the presence of the wall behind him was keeping him standing.  “I’d like to go with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Darik said.  “You’ve already done enough.  More than enough.  If you and your friends hadn’t been there when they gained the wall…”

“Still, I’d like to see for myself,” Bredan said.  “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

After a moment, the dwarf nodded.  “Fair enough.”

Bredan was the last one through the fortified corridor that led to the outer door.  His height allowed him to see over the heads of the seven dwarves in front of him.  Seven again; a fortuitous number.  He wondered if his presence spoiled the luck.

The outside door ground open.  The sally port hadn’t come under serious attack during the troll assault, but there was an engineer among the company who carefully checked the mechanisms as the others tromped through.  Bredan turned to the side and carefully edged through to avoid getting in the dwarf’s way.  The others had already fanned out, though they remained close enough to help each other if necessary.

That support wasn’t immediately necessary, as nothing stirred around them.  Bredan felt some of the hard tension of the fight return as he stared out upon the battlefield.

Dead trolls were everywhere, some embedded with stubby crossbow bolts, others with terrible gashes from dwarven axes.  He could separate the ones that had been flung off the wall, they were in worse shape than the ones that had been shot from above.  Some lay in blackened ruins in the midst of scorch marks; the dwarves had used fire bombs as part of their siege defenses.

The trolls were bad enough, but Bredan’s attention was quickly drawn to the giants.

He’d seen them from above, but it was different from this vantage, close enough to reach out and touch them.  There were two right next to the sally port, in the shadow of the main gate.  The huge stone battering rams that they’d used to assault the gate were lying on the ground next to them.  Bolts from crossbows and ballistae jutted from the corpses, even the latter looking tiny against their sheer mass.

Bredan felt his gorge threaten as he came closer to the fallen hulks.  They were about the size of the hill giant he had encountered on the road to the Silverpeak Valley, but that was where the similarity ended.  These giants were hideously malformed, their bodies twisted into contorted forms that Bredan knew was not the result of their injuries.  One had a massive hunchback, while the other had arms that were of different length, the smaller twisted unnaturally in a way that had to have been an agony when it was still alive.  Their faces looked like a sculpture that had been deliberately mangled, the flesh lumped and misshapen.

“Formorians,” Darik said.

“What makes them like this?” Bredan asked.

“No one really knows for sure,” Darik said.  “Some say they were cursed, others that they were mutated by the strange radiations of the underworld.”

“Are they customarily allied with trolls?”

“No,” Darik said.  “Needless to say, this is not a good development.”

They continued past the two fallen giants.  There were a few others scattered across the battlefield, their bodies looming over the comparatively tiny trolls that lay fallen all around them.  Bredan could clearly mark the spot where the trolls had gained the wall; there was another dead giant there, a ballista bolt sticking through its neck.  The remnants of the wooden ramp it had held for the trolls lay around its body, charred and blackened.  The giants had also been responsible for hurling the husk balls full of trolls over the wall.

“Did any get away?”

“We’re not certain.  There are five giants here altogether, and maybe a hundred trolls.  There might have been more.”

“Seems like a well-planned attack,” Bredan said.

“That fact has not escaped us,” Darik said.

They were interrupted by a terrible cry, followed by a gurgling sound.  They turned to see one of the dwarves standing over a fallen troll, a bloody knife in his hand.

“No quarter,” Bredan said.

“They would not have given us any,” Darik pointed out.

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Bredan said.

“I don’t know,” Darik said.

They didn’t linger long on the battlefield.  The dwarves were quite thorough, but Bredan had seen enough blood for one day.

Darik went back in with him.  There was a messenger waiting when they got back into the guardroom, a young dwarf who took Darik aside and spoke with him quietly.  When he left, the dwarf warrior called Bredan over.

“What is it?” Bredan asked.

“It’s the Council,” Darik said.  “They want to see you and your friends again, as soon as possible.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 188

It was a different group that met with them this time, though several of the faces were familiar.  They were in a small meeting room instead of the more spacious Council chambers, dominated by a long conference table and a hearth that was currently black and cold.  There were two members of the Council of Elders present, though they sat in the back and did not participate in the discussion.  Bredan’s eyes kept heading in that direction, wondering what they were thinking.

In the foreground, and dominating the meeting, were Dergan Steelshield and Akhenon Loremaster.  Darik also remained present, though he was not seated at the conference table and instead took up a position near the door.

On the visitor’s side of the table were Bredan, Quellan, Xeeta, and Konstantin.  The wizard had not participated in the attack, but he had been briefed by Bredan and the others, and he had a serious expression as he listened to the dwarves speaking.  Bredan, still exhausted, felt his mind wandering during the account.  He’d already heard most of it from Darik on their journey to the Lakehore Grotto and from Goran Thunderhammer, and the reality of the trolls’ grudge against the dwarves he of course knew from firsthand experience.

“So now you know what we are up against,” Dergan said as he finished.  “These trolls are not common foes, and with giants as allies they represent an even greater threat to Ironcrest.”

“They wish to exterminate us,” Akhenon said.

“I understand,” Konstantin said.  “But if you are confronted with such a danger, why did you not reach out to us sooner?  We could have provided aid.”

“When confronted with such a danger, it is easy to see threats everywhere you look,” Akhenon said.  “In such circumstances trust comes slowly.  Especially when there is so much history between our peoples, so much of it troubled.”

“We were allies, once,” Konstantin said.  “Mistakes have been made, but that does not change that fundamental truth.”

“What if this is all connected?” Xeeta asked.

They all turned to her.  In the light of the gas lamps her ruddy skin seemed almost to glow.  She fidgeted a bit under that scrutiny but did not lower her eyes.  “What do you mean?” Akhenon finally asked.

“The trolls were altered,” she said.  “And it is clear that there is a greater intelligence behind this attack, someone or something that could bind the trolls and these formorians together.  Furthermore, it seems obvious to me that there is magic at work here.  I sensed it when I battled the trolls, they resisted my spellworking.”

“There are many creatures that are resistant to magic,” Dergan said.

“There was magic behind Kavel Murgoth as well,” Xeeta continued.  “We have told you about the Blooded, and the warlock we encountered.  My own existence is evidence that there are people who are eager to meddle with outside entities for the sake of power.”

“There is no evidence that the two things are connected,” Akhenon said.

“There is no evidence that they are _not_ connected,” Quellan pointed out.

“There is _something_ going on that we cannot fully perceive,” Bredan said.  “There is a greater power at work here; I have touched that power myself.  The hobgoblin was seeking it, and others have as well.  It led me to the Libram.  I don’t know that the answers are in that ancient book.  But it is not an accident of fate that brought me here.  You say you are in danger of extermination; I say that we are all in danger, humans and dwarves and elves alike.  You joined with us against the Dead King.  We shouldn’t wait until we’re facing another existential threat before we agree to work together.  If we wait too long this time, it might be too late for us all.”

Another silence settled around the table as Bredan finished.  The dwarves exchanged a long look, the two in front glancing back at the pair of Elders seated in the back.  Some silent communication passed between them, then Dergan turned back to the others.  “We will think on your words,” he said.

Bredan got up, the others following his gesture.  “Don’t think too long,” he warned.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 189

They reached the Tender outpost about an hour shy of sunset.

At first, Glori did not even realize that they had arrived.  It wasn’t until the Rangers stopped that she took a second look at their surroundings and saw that they’d reached their destination.

The outpost was situated on the edge of a clearing, one of the gaps in the forest that had been relatively rare during their journey.  The site consisted of a small collection of stone structures with low, almost flat shingle roofs.  The reason she’d missed them at first was that they were all covered by a shroud of fresh growth.  Vines crept up the stone walls, with clinging moss filling in the gaps.  The roofs were almost invisible under a drape of green, and most were in a state of fairly advanced state of collapse that left their interiors open to the elements.  One of the buildings even had a young tree poking out through a broad gap in the shingles.

“How long has this place been abandoned?” Kosk asked.

“I… I didn’t know it was,” Brightbriar said.  Glori looked over to see that the old Tender had a look of utter confusion on his face.  “How long has it been since you’ve last been here?” she asked.  “Tender?”

He blinked and looked at her.  “A few years,” he admitted.  “But if they’d been planning on moving the outpost, I certainly would have heard of it…”

“Check it out,” Shreskra ordered.  Her Rangers spread out as they approached the outpost, their weapons at the ready.  “Wait here,” she ordered as Embrae started to edge after them.  “After what happened earlier, better to be careful,” the Ranger leader added.

“How many Tenders are supposed to be here?” Glori asked.

“They would spend most of their time rotating out in the Reserve,” Brightbriar said.  “But there should be at least a small group stationed here, maybe half a dozen.”

“There’s nobody here now,” Embrae said, still staring at the wreckage of the outpost.

“Let’s wait for the report,” Shreskra said, though it was clear that she too was unnerved by the unexpected development.

It didn’t take long for the Rangers to return.  “No one’s here,” Razelle said.  “The site’s been deserted for a while, but…” she trailed off.

“What is it?” Shreskra asked impatiently.

“It’s weird,” the scout said.  “I would say from the growth that it’s been like this for a few seasons, at least.  But some of the damage… it looks fairly recent.  And we found a few signs that someone’s been here not too long ago.”

“The Tenders?” Shreskra asked.

“I can’t say for sure.  I’m sorry, Patrol Leader, I can’t be more specific.  The signs are just…”

“‘Weird,’” Shreskra said.

“Are we going to camp here tonight?” Kosk asked.

Shreskra looked over at Brightbriar.  “Tender?  Are there any other places that might offer good shelter near here?”

“Nothing that offers as much protection as these buildings,” the old elf replied.

“All right,” Shreskra said.  “We’ll set up camp here, but keep an eye out.”  Turning back to Razelle, she added, “Check the surrounding area, see if there’s any indication of what happened to the Tenders, or if there are any more clues about what happened ere and when.”

“Yes, Patrol Leader,” the scout said, snapping off a quick salute before running off to rejoin her companions.

They took full advantage of the remaining daylight in setting up their camp.  The Rangers chose the most intact of the three buildings to serve as their base, though even that one had multiple gaping holes in its roof.  Some of the growth that coated the outside of the structure had made it inside, and they had to hack a probing vine out the interior of the fireplace before they could use it, but by the time that the last remnants of daylight had faded they were settled in.

The scouts hadn’t turned up any more clues in the forest around the outpost, but the mysteries of the place remained unsolved.  The condition of the roof and the state of the interior seemed to support the theory that the place had been abandoned months if not years ago, but they found some old caches of stores that looked almost edible.  To be safe they discarded it all and relied on the supplies that they’d brought with them.

“I don’t understand,” Glori said.  “How can an entire outpost just disappear without anyone knowing anything about it?  I know you said that the Reserve is separate and protected, but surely there is some communication…”

“The Tenders usually serve for two or three seasons at a time,” Embrae explained.  “The outposts are supposed to be self-sufficient, with only the barest minimum of supplies brought in.  If there were more frequent exchanges with the outside, it would defeat the whole purpose of the place.”

“But surely someone must monitor…” Glori said.

“Technically, the Reserve is a royal grant,” Majerion chimed in from beside the fire.  “Therefore, it’s the King’s responsibility.”

“But wouldn’t that mean that there is direct oversight…”

“Actually, it means the opposite,” the elf bard interjected.  Glori remembered that habit of his, and found it just as annoying now as she always had.

“Perhaps this is not an appropriate topic in front of outsiders,” Shreskra said.

“It’s hardly a state secret,” Majerion said cheerfully.  “The King, you see, has relatively little power.  Most of the true levers of power are operated within the Advisory Council.  Running the Reserve would be the perfect ceremonial post, if not for the power that this place represents.  Thus the arcanists on the Council are happy to let the Druid run things as he wishes, as long as the power they draw from the Reserve remains intact and potent.”

“It doesn’t seem like things are running all that smoothly right now,” Kosk said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Majerion said.  “So here we are.”

Glori frowned, thinking about their encounter with the Council before they’d left Tal Nadesh.  _Everyone has an agenda_, she thought.

“This Druid character, he sounds almost like a king himself, at least in here,” Kosk said.

“A not wholly inaccurate assessment,” Majerion said, at the same time that Brightbriar and Shreskra both said, “That’s not true at all.”  The three elves shared a look.

“Who is he?” Kosk asked.  “How is he selected?”

Neither the Ranger leader nor the Tender looked like they wanted to answer, but after a moment Embrae said, “The Druid usually comes from within the higher ranks of the Tenders, but not always.  Sometimes… sometimes people find themselves drawn to the Reserve, called to service.”

“What, you mean like an inner voice?” Glori asked.

“It’s not like that,” Brightbriar said.  “More like a sense of rightness, of purpose.”

“Is that what you felt?” Glori asked Embrae.

The elf woman looked uncomfortable.  “It turned out that it wasn’t my path,” she said.

Brightbriar abruptly turned toward the door.  “I need some air,” he said.

“You shouldn’t head off alone,” Shreskra said.

“The Reserve holds no terrors for me,” the Tender said.  Before the Ranger or anyone else could offer further comment he opened the door and was gone.

“I think I am going to go outside for a moment myself,” Glori said.

“The Ranger’s advice is sound,” Kosk said, getting up.  “I will go with you.”

“No, it’s all right,” Glori said.  “I just need a few minutes, before supper is ready.  Razelle is out there keeping watch, and I won’t go far.”

The dwarf frowned, and it looked like he might insist, but Embrae rose and interjected, “I’ll go.”  She gave Glori a knowing look.

The monk’s presence drew another protest from Shreskra, but the two women were finally able to extract themselves and go outside.  It was almost full dark now, the sky marbled in the last lingering colors of the fading twilight.  There was no sign of Razelle, but Glori was used to not being able to see the scout.  The elf woman seemed to hide just as a matter of course.

“Thanks,” Glori said.

“Privacy is a valuable commodity at times like this,” the monk said.

“My human side is being particularly troublesome this month,” the bard replied.  “Sorry, that’s probably more information than you wanted to hear.”

“Remember that I lived among humans for a long time,” Embrae said.  “And in a monastery there is less privacy than in most settlements.  Did you want to use one of the other buildings, or…”

“A quiet spot outside will suffice.”

“I won’t be far.”

They walked around to the far side of the building.  From that side the overgrown structure was almost invisible under its cloak of greenery.  Only the thin thread of smoke rising from the chimney revealed the truth.

The night had only added to the sinister mood of the abandoned outpost, and Glori didn’t linger at her task.  The advancing darkness gave her enough privacy that she did not have to go further than a stone’s throw from the house, and she quickly attended to her business and cleaned herself up.  But when she turned back toward the house she didn’t seem Embrae at first.

“Embrae?” she said quietly.

A slight shuffle in the grass drew her attention around, away from the camp.  There was someone standing there, maybe five paces away.  It was dark enough that it could have been the monk, but there was something subtly off about the silhouette, and more than that, an indefinable sense of wrongness that awoke a clutching sense of terror in Glori’s belly.

She reached for her lyre—she had not been so stupid as to leave it or her sword in the house—and strummed a quick melody.  _Dancing lights_ flared into being, surrounding the intruder and driving back the night.

As the light revealed the other, Glori opened her mouth to shout a warning.  But she didn’t get a chance, as the figure suddenly lunged forward and swung an arm at her head.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 190

Majerion came over to where Kosk was sitting on a low bench along one of the side walls of the house.  The dwarf had pruned back the vines that had drifted down from the broken ceiling, clearing a space to sit while he waited for Loriellan to finish preparing the evening meal.

“I have traveled far and wide,” the bard said, “and you are the first dwarven devotee of the Open Fist that I have encountered.  I did not know that the monastic orders had gained an appeal among your people.”

“Life often follows unexpected paths,” Kosk said.

“Indeed.  May I?” Majerion asked, gesturing toward the end of the bench.

“If you must.”

The elf bowed as if the statement had been a grand invitation, sweeping a segment of vine away with one boot before he settled into the space.  “Have you known Glorianna for a long time?”

“Less than half a year,” Kosk said.  “Though it seems like longer sometimes.”

Majerion cracked a smile at that.  “How did you meet, if you do not mind me asking?”

“A job,” Kosk said.  After a moment’s delay he added, “The abbot at the monastery I was at owed a wizard a favor.  Glori showed up for the same job.”

“Artifact hunting, wasn’t it?”

Kosk shot the elf a hard look.  “You are well informed.”

“Well.”  The elf leaned in conspiratorially.  “Secrets are my trade, after all.”  He drew back and tugged a small cheroot from a pocket of his coat.  “Do you mind?  It’s a filthy habit, but one that I picked up in my travels.”  At Kosk’s shrug the elf snapped his fingers, summoning a tiny flicker of flame that he touched to the end of the cigar.  When it caught he drew a deep draught from it and then released it into the air, leaning back with a contented sigh.  “I am glad that Glori has found some good friends who care about her,” he said.

Kosk’s response was a non-committal grunt.

Majerion let out another plume of smoke.  “Has she spoken much of me?” he asked.

Kosk turned to look at him directly.  “Look.  My philosophy is that I prefer to stay out of other people’s business.  Glori is my friend, and I look out for her, but as far as I’m concerned, whatever exists between the two of you is not my concern.”

The elf nodded.  “That is a philosophy that I can respect, even if I do not share it.”  He stood.  “I will leave you to your meditations, master dwarf.”

He started to turn away, but hesitated as an intent look crossed the dwarf’s face.  “What is it?”

“Did you hear something?” Kosk asked.

Majerion cocked his head.  “No, though I will reveal a shameful secret of my own: I am slightly deaf in my left ear.”  He seemed unconcerned, but Kosk noted how he shifted slightly so that his lyre slid around his body into his grasp.

Both men took a quick look around the room.  The Rangers were either gathered around the fire or checking their gear.  Brightbriar had not yet returned, but as Kosk stood he saw Shreskra watching him, the firelight glowing in her eyes.

“I am going to check on Glori,” Kosk said.  But before he could take one step there was a loud crash and someone fell through the roof.  He landed in the middle of the floor, falling into a crouch as broken shingles pattered to the ground around him.

Everyone started in surprise as the figure rose to his full height.  He had hit the floor with enough force to leave a divot in the wooden boards of the floor, yet he did not seem affected by his calamitous descent.  He looked like a younger version of Brightbriar at first glance.  He was clad in similar garments in forest colors, though his were in a state of advanced decay.  But there was something definitely off about him, even leaving aside the unusual means of his arrival in the cabin.  The light of the fire revealed skin that was a clammy gray, drawn tight over a face that left his eyes glowing within deep hollows.  There was something else, a slight greenish tinge to both his flesh and his clothes.  As he turned, the source was revealed to be a fuzz of mossy growth that appeared to cover him from head to toe, the stuff sprouting even from the exposed skin of his face and hands.

By chance Tenaille was closed to him, and she was first to respond, drawing two knives from the assortment at her belt as she lunged forward.  The altered Tender reacted quickly, stepping in to meet her before she could strike.  He seized hold of her with both hands and with a seemingly effortless motion hurled her across the cabin.  She struck the wall near the hearth with enough force to dislodge some of the building stones, then dropped limply to the floor.  The knives made a jarring clatter as they fell.

As the rest of them reached for their weapons the creature’s jaw dropped open.  A terrible, low moan issued from his lips.  That sound was echoed a moment later by a reverberating crash that seemed to come from just outside the cabin.  Kosk recognized it; it was the familiar pulse of a _thunderwave_.

But before he could do anything else, the creature attacked.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 191

The altered Tender turned to face Kosk.  The dwarf did not know whether it was undead or something else, but he had already gotten a pretty good idea that it was extremely dangerous.  And from the fading echoes of Glori’s _thunderwave_, he would have given good odds that there was at least one more of them outside.

He prepared to divert its attack, but before it could lunge at him the way it had at Tenaille Majerion distracted it with a thrust from his rapier.  He barely clipped it on the shoulder, but darted back quickly before it could do to him what it had done to the Ranger.

Kosk took full advantage of the distraction, charging toward the heavy door that led out of the cabin.  But the creature, moving quickly, beat him to it.  It slammed a hand against the wood, and Kosk could see the wood shift as it swelled in response, with sprouts of twisting brown and green erupting out of its substance.  He didn’t have to try the door to know it would resist his strength as if it had been secured with a heavy lock.  Whatever the thing before him was, it didn’t want any of them going anywhere.

The creature shuddered as an arrow from Darethan’s longbow slammed into it from behind.  Kosk could see the point poking out slightly from its chest, but there was no blood and the wound did not seem to faze it in the least.  Loriellan was next, his sword gleaming in the firelight, but once again the creature proved its speed.  It carried no weapon but apparently needed none, swiping out with its arm to strike the Ranger hard in the chest.  He was knocked sprawling into a table with enough force to snap off one leg and send both him and it to the floor.

Once more it turned toward Kosk, but the dwarf was ready.  Even it its other arm started to reach out he leapt up and kicked off the thick threshold of the doorway, turning into a spin that drove his other foot into the thing’s chest.  Strong as it was it could not resist the force of that impact, and it was knocked sprawling into the corner of the cabin.  As it reached up to steady itself Kosk could see tiny sprouts extending out from its fingertips, helping it gain purchase on the uneven stone.  He glanced back to see what the others were doing.  Loriellan was still down but moving.  Shreskra had gone to Tenaille’s aid, though it looked like the Ranger was unconscious if not worse.  Darethan had fitted another arrow to his bowstring but from the look on his face he too had recognized how little an effect his first shot had had on the creature.

But Majerion had advanced to the center of the room, and as the creature began to pull itself back up he stepped forward to confront it.  He carried not his rapier but his lyre, and he quickly strummed a melody that even Kosk could feel was laden with power.  The magic gathered quickly, and in response the corner of the room where the creature was standing exploded into flames.  They engulfed the thing, which did not cry out but struggled to get clear.

Kosk didn’t wait around to see how effective the bard’s spell was.  Turning back to the door, he paused just a heartbeat to focus before spinning into another precision kick.  This one struck the door at a precise point, and the thick layers of wooden planks shattered.  He followed with a punch that tore the remnants out of the jam and opened a path for him to charge through.  He could feel sharp splinters poking into him as he pushed out into the night.  Behind him there was a heavy thud as Loriellan and Darethan thrust the damaged table into the burning creature, pushing it back into the inferno of Majerion’s _wall of fire_.  One of the elves cried in pain, either from being burned or from a counterattack from the monster, but Kosk continued forward, seeking Glori and Embrae.

It only took him a moment to find them.  Glori’s lyre was playing a furious melody, pulling him forward.  He charged around the edge of the building to see that his earlier fear was correct; there was a second one of the Tender-creatures battling the two women.  Glori was injured, one side of her face smeared with fresh blood.  She turned and saw him, but to his horror that creature took advantage of that distraction to leap forward, its arms outstretched to snare her.  Embrae was half a dozen paces away, too far away to immediately intervene.

He shouted a warning and sprinted forward, knowing he was too late.  But to his surprise the creature passed right through her.  Too late Kosk realized that the sounds of playing he had heard were being echoed by another dark figure in the shadow of the building.

The creature, having failed to catch his foe, immediately turned toward Kosk.  But before it could charge again Embrae lifted her hands and unleashed a bolt of brilliant energy into the creature.

The light blinded Kosk for just a moment.  The thing flinched back, and as Kosk’s vision returned he could see that the growth that covered it had been seared black.  As he watched he could see its flesh crinkle and char, leaving a hole in its neck and the side of its jaw where she’d blasted it.  He could also now see that there were other marks on it that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d hit it with her power.

The creature turned toward her, but Kosk came up quickly behind it and slammed his staff hard against the backs of its knees.  They buckled and the creature fell to the ground.  It quickly pushed itself up again, but before it could ready another attack Embrae stepped forward and extended both hands toward the thing.  She waited just a beat for Kosk to get clear, then her eyes flashed with light and a searing gout of pure fire erupted from her fingertips.  The flames engulfed the creature, which struggled and flailed but could not escape.  She did not cease until the thing was destroyed.

Kosk turned as Glori hurried forward to rejoin them.  The wound on her face had not only been part of the illusion, he saw, but she seemed otherwise okay.  “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine, but there’s another one of those things in the cabin,” Kosk said.  The whole place was on fire now, with smoke pouring up from the corner where Majerion had conjured his spell.

The three of them quickly hurried back to the entrance and got there just as the elves were staggering clear of the entrance.  Shreskra was carrying Tenaille, who was still unconscious, and Darethan was supporting Loriellan.  Majerion turned with a look of relief as he saw Glori and the others approaching.

“Is it destroyed?” Kosk asked.

“It took some doing, but it’s not coming out of that,” Majerion said.  As if in response to his words there was a loud crash as part of the damaged roof gave way, and a bright surge of fire rose up into the night sky.  The four of them stared through the open doorway at the conflagration within, unwilling to leave the circle of light despite the searing heat that poured out from the dying cabin.

Shreskra staggered to her feet.  “Where’s Razelle?”

Glori looked around.  “We didn’t see her.”

The Ranger started to walk away from the burning cabin, but Kosk stepped forward to block her.  “There might be more of those things out there.  The Tender’s still missing as well, but we shouldn’t get separated.

For a moment it seemed almost as if she would ignore him, but then she glanced back at the wounded survivors of her command and nodded.  Glori had already rushed over to Tenaille, while Majerion attended to Loriellan.  Both Rangers responded to the healing magic that the bards commanded, and soon Tenaille was groaning as Glori eased her carefully up to a sitting position.

“Feels like… I was hit by… a battering ram,” she said.

“Whatever those things were, they were strong,” Kosk said.  “What happened with you two?” he asked Glori.

“One came on me in the dark,” she said.  “I thought it was Embrae at first, or maybe Razelle, but then it attacked me.  It got in a good hit, but then I hit it with a _thunderwave_.”

“We heard that,” Kosk said.  “But one dropped in through the roof before we could do anything.”

“Those things, they were Tenders?” Glori asked.

“We can’t know that for certain,” Shreskra said.  “We need to find Brightbriar, and Razelle.”

“Give them a moment to recover,” Majerion said.

The Ranger leader turned toward him.  “What you did in there, that was reckless.  We could have all been burned to death.”

“With all due respect, Ranger, what you were doing to that point didn’t seem to be working all that well.”

Shreskra looked like she would say more, but they were interrupted as Tender Brightbriar emerged from the nearby forest and hurried toward them.  “Where in all the hells have you been?” the Ranger asked, all but shouting.

“I took a walk to clear my head,” the Tender said.  “What happened?”

“We were attacked,” Glori said.

“By possible friends of yours,” Kosk asked.

The old elf looked confused, and after a moment Kosk said, “Let’s show him.  There’s not much left of the one outside, but maybe he might have some answers.”

“I have to find Razelle,” Shreskra said.  “You take him, stay here.  Darethan, you’re with me.  Loriellan, are you okay to scout?”

Tenaille quickly stood.  “I’m all right too,” she began, but Shreskra shook her head.  “Stay with them.  Don’t let them out of your sight.”

To Glori it was obvious that her words had another meaning, but the Ranger leader was already heading off into the forest, flanked by her men.  Kosk met her eyes and nodded in understanding.  “All right, come on then,” she said to Brightbriar.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 192

“What are we looking for?” Bredan asked.

“Not looking, listening,” Darik said.

The four of them—Bredan, Quellan, and Xeeta, along with the dwarf warrior—stood in silence atop the battlements of the Darkfall Gate.  The dwarves had removed the bodies of their own fallen and the trolls they had defeated, but the stones were still sticky with blood and a thick scent of death hung in the air.

“I can’t hear anything over that racket,” Xeeta said.  “What are they doing over there, anyway?”

The noise came from beyond the edge of the lights that shone from atop the wall.  It was a complex din of hoots, drums, and the harsh noise of metal striking stone.

“They want us to know that they’re still out there,” Bredan said.

“It’s more than that,” Darik said.  “They’re digging in, fortifying.  There’s at least one formorian still out there, possibly more.  But that isn’t what I brought you here for.  Come on, let’s go below.”

They made their way back down the stairs, passing dwarves who were bringing up satchels of fresh ammunition and other supplies in anticipation of another assault.  Darik led them into one of the guard houses, then, after an exchange of words with a sentry, through a door into a tunnel that penetrated into the interior of the wall itself.  The sounds of activity faded behind them as they came to a set of narrow steps that descended to a small chamber.  There was another dwarf on duty there, but at a look from Darik he gave up his post to make room for the new arrivals.

As they crowded into the close space the companions could see what the dwarf had been guarding.  There was a low stone pedestal in the center of the room, upon which a round metal frame had been attached.  A glass half-sphere rested in the frame, and inside that was a slightly smaller globe, surrounded by metal prongs that hovered over it like bent fingers.

“Ah, this is the second seismograph that the Loremaster mentioned,” Quellan said.  “It’s bigger.”

“What’s a seismograph?” Bredan asked.  He leaned over the device to get a better look, careful not to touch anything.

“It detects movements in the earth,” Quellan explained.  “Those marks indicate disturbances.”

“It must be incredibly sensitive,” Xeeta said.  “Don’t all the dwarves moving around above set it off?  For that matter, what about us?”

“The sensors that operate the device are embedded deep in the surrounding bedrock,” Darik explained.  “Each of those stylus arms is linked to a different sensor.”

Bredan continued to study the globe, and the markings that formed elaborate spirals around the central axis.  “These here, this was the attack on the Gate, right?”

Darik did not need to examine the indicated line.  “Yes.”

“There’s something else, then,” Quellan said.

Darik came forward and indicated a line extending from another of the metal styluses.  The companions bent over it for a long moment, but could not see anything remarkable at first.

“There’s a tiny squiggle here, I think,” Xeeta finally said.  “What does it mean?”

“It means that they’re burrowing,” Darik said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 193

They continued the briefing in another meeting room one level up from the Darkfall Gate.  Ambassador Konstantin rejoined them, along with Akhenon Loremaster, Dergan Steelhammer, and a handful of senior dwarven officers clad in suits of heavy armor.

“It would take months to hack through enough solid rock to bypass the Gate,” one of the officers was saying.

“Do not underestimate the raw strength of the formorians,” Darik warned.  “Or the intensity of the trolls.”

“I do not think any of us will forget that, not after yesterday’s adventure,” Koron Deepdelver said.  It wasn’t clear why the warrior was there; he did not appear to have any particular rank or special standing, but none of the senior dwarves had objected when he’d filed in with the rest of them.

“I appreciate you including us in this discussion,” Konstantin said.  “What is it you intend to do, and how can we assist?”

“We need intelligence,” Dergan said.  “We must know what they are planning, and whether our assessment of their ability is accurate.”

“The sensors have given us a good idea of where they are focusing their efforts,” another of the officers said.  “We’ll know how quickly they are progressing before they get anywhere close to a breakthrough.”

“Unless they have a surprise planned,” Bredan pointed out.  Every eye turned to him, but he did not falter under that scrutiny.  “They’ve already proven that they can do the unexpected.”

“We’ve beaten them once, we’ll beat them again whatever they try,” the officer said.

“Still, it cannot hurt to be wary,” Dergan said.  “A scout is called for.”

“The tunnels will be crawling with trolls,” another of the officers said.

“It’s too bad Glori isn’t here,” Bredan said quietly.  When a few of the dwarves looked his way, he added, “She can make people _invisible_.”

“This is a magic that is known to us,” Akhenon said wryly.  “But it would be of little use here.  Trolls have an exceptional sense of smell.”

“There are ways of stinkin’ like a troll,” Koron pointed out.

“Especially if you’re already halfway there,” Xeeta added under her breath.

“Sounds like you would need a way to fit in enough that you could escape casual notice,” Bredan said.  He turned to Xeeta, who looked alarmed for a moment before she finally sighed and nodded.

“What did you have in mind?” Dergan asked.

Xeeta stood.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then extended her arms and called upon her power, her Demon.

Her body began to shift and swell.  Her arms thickened and lengthened, the skin taking on a coarse, stony texture.  Her torso expanded, her shoulders sliding forward as her back took on a slight hunch.  Finally her head transformed, her mouth spreading wider as her horns twisted back into a protruding ridge that extended over eyes that had shifted into a pale yellow.

Several of the dwarves had drawn back in alarm as the tiefling completed her spell.  She leaned forward, clicking hands that now ended in sharp claws upon the table.

Koron barked a laugh into the sudden tension.  “That’s a pretty trick!” he said.  “Can ye do it for a couple of us?”

“I can only use _alter self_ on myself,” Xeeta said.  The transformation had thickened and deepened her voice, but it was still recognizably hers.  “But my amulet can give the seeming of such to one other person.”

“That would be me,” Bredan said.

“It would be dangerous,” Konstantin said before any of the dwarves could respond.

“If she goes, I go,” Bredan said.

“It looks good,” one of the officers said.  “But you don’t know the tunnels.  And what if one of the real trolls decides to stop for a chat?”

“Some of us would have to go with you,” Dergan said simply.

“I know the tunnels as well as anyone,” Darik said.  “I volunteer.”

“And I,” Koron said.  “I won’t let anyone do something this batshit crazy without tagging along.”

“To clarify, this would just be a reconnaissance mission,” Konstantin said.

“Indeed,” Dergan said.  “Bredan, Xeeta, you have already proven yourselves on the field of battle, and we are grateful for your further offer of aid.  There is risk, significant risk, but the need justifies it in my view.  It is not a perfect plan, but I believe it has the greatest chance for success.”

“How would we get down there?” Xeeta asked.  She undid her casting even as she spoke, and her form shifted back to normal.  “Surely they must be watching the Gate closely.”

“Leave that to us,” Dergan said.

“When?” Bredan asked.

Dergan shared a meaningful look with the other dwarves around the table.  “It will take a little time to get everything ready,” he said.  “We will send for you when it is time.”


----------



## HubHacken

Good story, bro.


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks, HubHacken.

* * * 

Chapter 194

“All right, your turn,” Xeeta said.

Bredan looked into the bucket and gagged, “Gods, that’s foul.”

“Hey!  This was your idea.  If you can’t handle it, I’ll smear it on you myself.”

Bredan shook his head and then reached into the bucket.  It looked as though it took a significant effort to keep his lunch down as he took a handful of raw gunk and rubbed it onto his legs and arms.

“Don’t forget the chest,” Xeeta said helpfully.

They were standing in a small stone anteroom.  Bredan was wearing Xeeta’s magic amulet, but he hadn’t yet activated its power.  Xeeta likewise had left her _alter self_ spell for the very last moment, since she could only maintain the casting for an hour.  The dwarves assured them that it shouldn’t take them that long to reach the site of the trolls’ excavation and get back, but they all knew that anything could happen to throw off the best-planned timetable.

“How are the eyes?” Xeeta asked as Bredan reluctantly spread the foulness from the bucket onto himself.  It was not something any of them would have wanted, but from what Akhenon had told them about troll noses, absolutely necessary.  There had been plenty of raw material left behind after the assault on the Darkfall Gate.

“It’s still a bit weird,” he admitted.  There was no light in the room, but the dwarves had provided a wizard whose _darkvision_ spell had temporarily granted him the ability to see.  That would be essential where they were going, where even a small light would bring the dwarves down on top of them.  “Is this how you see all the time?”

“Only in the dark,” she said.

The door opened and Darik and Koron came in.  “Ah, I see ye’ve already gotten started without us!” Koron said.  He reached into the bucket with a bare hand and slapped a generous dollop of troll waste onto his belly.  The others watched with distaste as he smeared it in.

The dwarves had turned in their heavy armor for garb more suited to stealth, with dark cloaks and soft boots.  They wore breastplates over cuirasses of boiled leather that would give them at least some protection from attacks without making too much noise.  Bredan’s had been hastily altered so that it would fit over his elongated frame.  It was good work, but he still missed the reassuring bulk of his mail hauberk.

Darik applied his own masking scent with the same grim determination that he applied to all of his work.  “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” he said.

They made their way out into the hall, then down a long corridor.  There was no casual traffic in this part of the dwarven complex.  They had already passed through two locked doors to get this far, along with another deadfall trap that could seal the passage in case of assault.

They ended up in front of yet another door, this one a steel disk set into a deep niche in the surrounding stone.  A dwarf stood sentry there, his nose wrinkling in protest as they approached.

“They’re waiting inside,” he said as he operated the door’s complex latching mechanism and swung it open.  They all had to duck to fit through, even the two dwarves.

The space beyond the door looked like a natural space in the rock that had been expanded slightly to make it larger.  A roughly round tunnel in the far wall descended at a slight angle.

Akhenon and Quellan were waiting for them inside.  The half-orc looked unhappy even before he caught a whiff of the stench.  “I still think I should go with you,” he said.

“We’ve been over this,” Xeeta said.  “Even if we could come up with some way to disguise you, sneaking around has never been your strong suit.”

“And there’s no time for the dwarves to adjust a suit of armor to fit you,” Bredan pointed out.  “We’ll be fine.  We’re just going to take a quick look and come back.”

“And we all have healing potions in case something goes wrong,” Xeeta added.

“It is time,” Akhenon said.  The elder cleric seemed able to ignore the stink through an effort of will.  “Gather around.”

The dwarf priest chanted the words of a spell.  He held his holy symbol in one hand and a small patch of fur in the other.  As he finished the spell he touched each of them with it in turn.  Bredan blinked as he felt a surge of _something_ pass through is body.

“Now remember, the blessing will only last for an hour,” Akhenon reminded them.

Koron smacked his arms together, though Bredan noted that he was careful not to make too much noise.  “That’s what I’m talking about!” he said with a grin.

“Be careful,” Quellan said.  “I prepared something extra for you,” he added, turning to Bredan.  He touched his holy symbol to the warrior’s forehead.  “This warding will resist fire,” he explained.  “Just in case Xeeta needs to cut loose.”

“Thank you,” Bredan said.  “We won’t be long.”

Darik led them down the corridor.  It was a bit of a tight fit for Bredan, another reminder that bringing Quellan with them would have been a mistake.  From what the dwarves had told them the trolls could not follow them back even if they did learn of the secret route, but he could not help but think of what might happen if he had to return this way while being pursued.  The slant of the tunnel helped a bit, but that only meant it would be that much harder on the return trip.

The tunnel finally deposited them in another small, natural chamber.  The only feature of note was a small winch bolted to one wall and a gaping hole in the center of the floor.  Another dwarf sentry was waiting here, watching the hole.  “No sound, no movement,” he reported.

“Time for your disguises,” Darik said.

Xeeta cast her _alter self_ spell once more, while Bredan concentrated on the amulet the way that she had instructed.  He’d practiced with a mirror, but it still felt strange as he looked down to see his hands shimmer and twist into a troll’s claws.  Fortunately, these deep trolls were not as large as their surface cousins; even so they would be a bit on the small side.

Bredan judged the success of his effort by the way that the dwarves looked at him and Xeeta.  “Shall we lower the rope?” he asked.

“No need,” Koron said.  He edged over to the rim of the hole with a grin.

Bredan went over and took a look.  “That has to be at least twenty-five feet!”

“You need to have faith, kid,” the dwarf said.  Without waiting for a response, he dropped into the hole.  He hung onto the edge with one hand for a moment before letting go.

Bredan looked down after him, expecting to see the dwarf splatted on the ground below, or at least clutching his broken legs.  But Koron had landed smoothly and was waving up at him.  “He’s crazy,” Bredan said.

“Yes, but he’s not wrong about this,” Darik said.  “The enchantment that Akhenon put upon us gives the body enhanced agility, including the ability to absorb falls.”  He jumped down after Koron, and this time Bredan could see how he dropped into a roll upon impact and came up into a crouch a few feet away.  Despite the armor he wore and the gear he carried, the whole event made barely more noise than a heavy step would have.

“We can lower the rope, if you want,” Xeeta said.

“No, if this is the worst of what we have to face, I would be quite content,” Bredan replied.  Even so he lowered himself as much as he could before letting go of the edge.  He resisted the urge to close his eyes as he fell.  At the last instant he feared that his legs would lock up, breaking them regardless of whatever magic coursed through his veins, but before he knew it he was down and rolling.  Apparently, the magic didn’t need his help in keeping him alive.

Xeeta was down almost before he was back on his feet, landing in a light crouch that made the men seem awkward by comparison.  “Shall we, gentlemen?”

Bredan took a quick look around.  The vision granted by the _darkvision_ spell was monochrome and shallow, almost as if he was looking at a picture instead of a three-dimensional landscape.  But he had adjusted to it enough to make out the general details of their surroundings.  They were in the center of a broad cavern, maybe sixty or seventy feet across.  The shaft through which they’d entered was directly above them, the rim well out of the reach of even a formorian.  But one of the giants could probably toss a troll up there pretty easily, Bredan thought.

There were multiple exits visible around the perimeter of the cavern, but there was little doubt about the way they needed to go.  A faint but constant sound of stone being struck was clearly audible.  Bredan took a few steps toward the passage where the sound seemed loudest but was interrupted by Darik’s hand on his arm.

“That’s the fastest route, but we know a way that might help avoid detection,” he said.  “Maybe give us a vantage on what they’re up to.”

“All right,” Bredan said.  “Lead on.”

“Actually, we should probably go first,” Xeeta said.  “In case we run into some of them.”

“A good idea,” Darik said.  He indicated a smaller tunnel mouth a bit further up along the wall of the cavern.  “That way to start, then.”

The four of them set out in that direction, creeping slowly over the bare rock until they disappeared one at a time into the dark tunnel.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 195

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to get much closer than this,” Xeeta said.

The four of them were crouched atop a ledge that overlooked a broad cavern below.  The ledge had a bit of a raised rim, offering them decent cover, but they still kept as low as they could.

The disadvantage of darkvision was that its range was quite limited.  Most of the cavern was beyond that distance, but there were bits of light here and there, tiny gatherings of radiance from faintly phosphorescent growths that clung to the walls or the mineral-rich stalactites that dangled from the ceiling.  It was just enough to see the trolls that were moving busily across the cavern.  Some carried burdens, bulging sacks or baskets that might have be full of the tailings from a digging operation, or might have been anything at all.  Others just looked to be rushing about with no particular agenda.

Most of the traffic seemed to be coming and going from a large tunnel on the far side of the cavern.  That was also the area that held the scouts’ interest, for the noises that had led there here were coming from there.  The din filled the cavern, and was more distinctive now that they were this close.

“We’re not going to learn much if we aren’t willing to take a few risks,” Koron said.

Xeeta shot the dwarf a dark look.  They’d already taken plenty of risks thus far, to her reckoning.  The magical disguises had held up, or at least they had been enough with the two groups of trolls they had encountered thus far.  In neither case did the creatures get close enough to really test them, however.

“This is just a reconnaissance mission,” Bredan said.

Darik stared out into the vast dark with a pensive look on his face.  “From the sounds I would say there are three giants at least, maybe four.”

Koron grinned—as if he was _eager_ to find those giants—but Darik quickly added, “I agree that this is as far as we’re going to get this way.  But there’s another option we can try before heading back.”

“The Cavern of Stars?” Koron asked.  At Darik’s nod the dwarf turned to the others and said, “Yer in for a treat.  It’s a pretty place.”

“I am sure the trolls won’t mind if we stop and enjoy the scenery,” Xeeta said.

“How much more time do you think we have?” Bredan asked.

“My time-sense is a bit off down here, but I’d say maybe half an hour,” Xeeta replied.  “Maybe a little less.”

“You can refresh the spell, right?” Bredan said.

“Yes.  But remember that we need to get back, as well.  And I can’t do anything about the enchantment that Akhenon placed on us.”

“Let’s get moving, then,” Darik said.

They retraced their steps and crossed a twisting cavern to another passage high along its wall.  The passage dumped them in still another subterranean chamber, this one crowded with pillars made from stalagmites that had gradually risen to meet up with their overhanging stalactites over years and years of patient dripping.  The air was thick with moisture, and they had to move cautiously to avoid slipping on the slick stone.

They were halfway across the cavern when Bredan hissed a warning.  “Trolls!”

He and Xeeta ducked into cover, while ten paces back the dwarves simply disappeared, their dark cloaks making them look almost like random rock formations themselves.  The trolls did not come their way, but merely emerged from one passage and vanished into another.  Bredan waited twenty full heartbeats before he reemerged from his hideaway, the others gathering around him.

“Is that the way we’re headed?” Xeeta asked.

“Fortunately, no,” Darik said.  “The tunnel we want is just around that big jut of rock.”

“There was something odd about those trolls,” Bredan said.

“Odd how?” Xeeta asked.

“I’m not sure.  But I’d like to check it out really quick.”

“We do not exactly have time to spare!” Xeeta hissed, but the young warrior was already shuffling forward across the cavern.  He had to circle around a broad gash in the cavern floor and crawl up a brief ascent that led to the spot where the trolls had been, but he reached it and had started back before the others had covered half of the distance.

“I found this,” he said, holding up a hand.  It was covered in some sort of viscous goup.  Koron stuck a finger in it and sniffed it before sticking it in his mouth.

“Gah, disgusting,” Xeeta said.

“It’s mud,” Koron said.  “Nothing special.”

“Is that common down here?” Bredan asked.  “Don’t you need topsoil to have mud?”

“You do occasionally find dirt down here,” Darik said.  “The way they came, it leads away from where we want to go.  We don’t have time to check both ways.  Do you think it’s important?”

“I don’t know,” Bredan said.  “I have a feeling.”

“Uh oh,” Xeeta said.


----------



## carborundum

Hmmmmmmm, I have an idea and it involves rock... and mud. IYKWIMAITYD...


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Hmmmmmmm, I have an idea and it involves rock... and mud. IYKWIMAITYD...



As it happens, I happened to recently come into possession of a certain D&D supplement...

* * * 


Chapter 196

They had no difficulty following the trail left by the trolls.  The pats of mud were frequent and in places formed a solid slick on the uneven floor of the tunnel.  The sounds of the mining operation receded somewhat behind them, but it was gradually replaced by sounds of activity from up ahead.  They slowed their pace and cautiously followed a bend in the tunnel until it opened into a larger space.

They found themselves in still another cavern, this one a long ellipse that ascended toward its far end, a slope that began modestly but which became almost vertical.  Directly in front of them was a sinkhole maybe forty feet across.  The depression was full of a glistening mass of mud.  They could see a slick of it that ran down from the other side of the room, where they could just make out an opening of some sort high along the cavern wall.

The scouts quickly moved out of the exposed mouth of the passage into the cover of some rocks that studded the edge of the sinkhole.  The new vantage didn’t offer much of a better view, but it was enough to clearly spot the bustle of activity around the opening.  “There’s a lot of trolls up there,” Xeeta whispered.

“What are they doing?” Bredan asked.  “Digging?”

“This mud’s too slick to dig through,” Koron said.  “It must be flowing naturally from somewhere above.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Bredan said.  “Look at that shaft, the shape of this room… the way it’s set up, the mud drains from up there right into this hole.”

“Magic,” Xeeta said, drawing their eyes to her.  “There are spells that can transform solid rock into mud.”

“That’s what they’re doing,” Bredan said.  “The attack on the Gate, the giants’ digging… it’s a distraction.  Where does this lead?” he asked Darik.

“I don’t know,” the dwarf said.  “But I think you’re right.  The route we took to get here, the angle of that shaft… it must lead somewhere inside Underhold.”

“We have to get back and warn them,” Bredan said.

“We could attack them from behind,” Koron said.

“No, Bredan’s right,” Darik said.  “There are too many of them, and we don’t know how many might be in that shaft.”  He stared into the darkness.  “We can only hope that they haven’t broken through yet.  Come on, let’s get out of here before…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, for even as he started to turn back around Xeeta hissed a warning.  It was unnecessary, since all of them could clearly see the cluster of trolls that was just emerging from the passage they had just navigated.  The four of them froze, and for a moment it looked as though the trolls would walk past them.  But then one turned and looked their way.  It looked surprised to see Xeeta and Bredan, the pair still appearing as slightly smaller trolls, but then its eyes settled on Darik, who could not be mistaken for anything other than what he was.

“Kreee-ak!” the thing screeched.  Its companions—five of them altogether—immediately spun as one to face the threat.  But worse than that, an echoing cry came a moment later from the much larger gaggle of trolls on the far side of the cavern.

“Oh, crap!” Xeeta exclaimed.


----------



## carborundum

Oh crap indeed! 

(Great idea with the mud thing, by the way!)


----------



## Lazybones

It's always fun to try to come up with creative ways to use spells, and that one in particular seems perfectly designed to create all sorts of trouble. 

* * * 

Chapter 197

Bredan and his companions fled.

It was impossible to forget that the trolls were right behind them.  They made enough noise that it seemed like they must be bouncing off of the walls and each other, their hooting cries filling the space until it seemed as though they must be hearing them at the Darkfall Gate, the sentries there wondering at the source of the din and glad that they weren’t anywhere near it.

Bredan slid on the slick ground as they made their way back through the mazelike expanse of the pillared chamber.  His side burned where a troll’s claws had gotten under his breastplate.  That was the problem with wearing armor you weren’t familiar with; you had to consciously remember that it didn’t offer the same level of protection as what you were used to.  Not that it mattered, right now; if they faltered they’d be torn to pieces either way.

He’d taken the hit during the brief fight with the trolls that had spotted them in the mud cavern.  The exchange had lasted all of maybe ten seconds, just long enough for them to win past and flee.  Koron had knocked two trolls into the sinkhole, one with his hammer and the other with his bare hands.  When Bredan had glanced back from the cavern entry he could see both of them struggling as they sank into the clinging mud.

Xeeta was faster than the rest of them, and as she reached the far side of the cavern she turned and hurled a _fireball_ past them.  Bredan couldn’t help but flinch as it streaked over him and exploded on the far side of the cavern.  Shattered bits of stalactite tumbled to the floor all around him as the chamber shook from the force of the blast.  Trolls screamed, but Bredan couldn’t immediately tell how many of them she’d caught in the spell.  It was more important to keep running than to look back.

Despite his longer legs he was the last to reach the far passage.  Darik had taken something out of his pack, and as Bredan rushed past he saw it was a small leather bag.  A metallic clink sounded behind them as they sprinted forward.  He didn’t know what it was until he heard troll screams just a few seconds later.  _Ah, caltrops_, he thought.  _Clever_.

Wishing he had something to contribute, he kept on running.  He could feel his magic in him, waiting for him to summon it, but even if he could use it to run faster, he would not leave the dwarves behind.  So he continued running on their heels.

The caltrops had bought them a few moments, but soon enough they could hear the sounds of pursuit closing again.  Darik led them from one turning to another without a moment’s hesitation.  Bredan quickly got turned around and could only hope that they were headed in the right direction.  Xeeta paused and let the others rush past her.  Her rod glowed slightly in her hands as she turned toward their pursuers.

They came around another bend, and he could recognize the familiar fork that led back to the secret entrance.  But directly ahead of them, and closer than them to the intersection, was a gang of at least a dozen trolls.  The creatures immediately spotted them and let out a collective shriek as they charged.

“I’ll hold them off!” Koron cried.

“Koron, no!” Darik yelled, but the other dwarf was already five paces ahead and still picking up steam.  “Go on!” he shouted back at them.  “You have to warn the hold!”

There was another explosion behind them, very close.  Xeeta appeared in its wake.   “They’re closing in!” she yelled.  Either her _alter self_ spell had expired or she’d let it lapse, and her natural features had been restored.

The three of them sprinted into the side passage even as Koron smashed into the troll ranks.  They could hear his loud cursing, accompanied by the solid thumps of his hammer striking bodies, as they ran toward the hidden exit.  Darik drew a flare out of his pouch as they ran, and as they burst into the cavern he ignited it and flung it across the floor.  It shed an intense, ruddy glow that transformed the natural cave into a hellish landscape of garish shadows.

The rope dropped almost immediately.  Darik grabbed hold of it before it could touch the floor.  “Xeeta!” he yelled.

“You go!” the tiefling shouted back.  She turned and hurled a series of _scorching rays_ back up the passage.  Bredan hadn’t realized that the trolls had gotten that close until he heard their screams.  He turned back to the passage, summoning his greatsword into his hands.

Xeeta turned to see Darik rising swiftly toward the shaft, but in the current moment it seemed entirely too slow.  She looked back in time to see Bredan meet her eyes.  “I’m right behind you!” he yelled.  Barely a second later he swung his sword in time to catch the first troll as it exploded from the mouth of the passage.  Already burned by Xeeta’s magic, the creature staggered as the huge blade carved a deep hole in its side.

Retreating toward the opening in the ceiling, Xeeta again summoned her magic, casting a _haste_ spell on Bredan.  The intervention was very timely as several other trolls erupted from the passage, forcing the fighter back with the ferocity of their attacks.

The rope dropped again and Xeeta grabbed hold of it.  She hesitated as Bredan danced a bloody and violent dance with the trolls.  More were just coming into view down the passage, and she could hear the sounds of still more behind them.  But before she could cast another spell or otherwise intervene the rope jerked and she was being pulled upward.

“Bredan!” she yelled.

The fighter knew he was in dire straits.  Thus far his own skill, augmented by Xeeta’s magic, had kept him out of their grasp, but he knew he had scant moments before his foes overpowered him through sheer numbers.  He feinted with the sword, and as they surged forward he threw it in their faces.  The heavy hilt caromed off the face of the lead troll, knocking the creature back for an instant.

Bredan was running by the time it struck.  Xeeta was already in the shaft, the rope ascending with her, well out of reach.  But he didn’t stop, and as he neared the opening he finally let his magic surge through him.

The trolls were right behind him as he leapt into the air.  He rose impossibly high, higher even than the ceiling of the cavern, up into the shaft.  He almost knocked Xeeta off the rope, then hit the edge of the shaft.  His fingers narrowly missed the lip, and he would have fallen right back down if Darik hadn’t seized hold of his wrist.  For a moment it looked as though both of them would fall, then Xeeta shot her legs out and pinned him between them.  For a moment the three of them hovered there awkwardly on the cusp of disaster before the dwarf sentry was able to drag them over into the safe area.

They just lay there on the ground for a few heartbeats, breathing heavily.  They could hear the trolls below, snarling and hooting in frustration.  The dwarf sentry risked a look.  “We’ll have to seal this off,” he said.  “Now that they know about this entrance, they’ll find a way up here.”

Bredan pushed himself up, Darik and Xeeta just a moment behind them.  “You’ll have to deal with that,” Bredan said.  “We have to get back to the Hold, right now.”


----------



## carborundum

Woah! Very well written!

(any chance of posting the party stats again soon?)


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Woah! Very well written!
> 
> (any chance of posting the party stats again soon?)




Sure. I've been keeping them updated, I just haven't posted them recently. 

First the update:

* * * 

Chapter 198

“I should still be down there,” Quellan said as he and Akhenon made their way back through the carved doors into the Temple of Hosrenu.  “There could be injuries needing immediate treatment…”

“They will be a while,” the dwarf priest said.  “I wanted to get your opinion of something I found in our archives this morning.  A reference to the Libram.”

Quellan followed him into the nave of the temple.  The place was empty.  “I would have thought to see more people here,” he said.  “I have found that in times of crisis, people seek out the solace of faith.”

“They will come when the crisis is over,” Akhenon said.  “Until then, everyone has something to do to assist in the defense.”

The old cleric moved swiftly past the orderly rows of pews and turned to the side door that led to his sanctuary.  Quellan was just a few steps behind.  The room was cool and quiet, the coals in the stove banked low.  “Wait here, I’ll get the book,” Akhenon said.

Quellan walked over to the seismograph.  The device was interesting.  The one here was simpler than the one buried under the Gate, with only the one sensor providing data.  The reverberations caused by the giants’ mining operations below were clearly visible, extending back to a sharper ridge of jolts that he knew represented the assault upon the Darkfall Gate.

He studied the inscribed pattern intently.  He was certainly not an expert in the device, though he had grasped the basic principles behind its operation.  There was something there, something more…

“What is it?” a voice said, stirring Quellan from his reverie.  He looked to and saw that Akhenon had returned and had come into the room.

“I’m not certain,” the half-orc replied.  “Do you have a seeing glass?”

Wordlessly the dwarf went over to one of the bookcases and produced a fist-sized lens bound in brass.  He handed it to Quellan, who studied the sphere through it.

“The seismograph in the Gate is more sensitive than this one and is constantly monitored,” Akhenon said.  “This one is something of a backup, and allows for a limited triangulation of sources.”  When Quellan did not look up he added, “Well?  What are you looking at?”

Quellan drew back and handed over the looking glass.  “These vibrations here,” he said, indicating a point with his thumbnail.

The dwarf took a look.  “Yes, they’re part of the enemy’s tunneling operation.  You can see the consistency of the effort along the time axis…”

“I think these might be separate,” Quellan said.  “These little marks didn’t stand out on the one below.”

“It’s natural for there to be some minor inconsistencies,” Akhenon said.  “As I said, the different number of sensors...  What?  You do not agree?”

Quellan held up a hand.  “Look.  There is a pattern.  These particular marks appear here, and again here.  Then a longer interval to here, almost overlapping with the attack on the Darkfall Gate.  How long do these gaps represent?”

Akhenon looked again.  “Roughly eight hours from here to here.  About twice that from here to here.”

“So you would say it’s been almost eight hours since the most recent event?” Quellan said.

Akhenon nodded, then looked up and met the half-orc’s eyes.  “Spellcasting,” he said.

“The tunneling operation, it could just be a cover,” Quellan said.

“We need to get down to the Gate,” Akhenon said.  But even as he started to turn away, Quellan grabbed his arm.  “Look!”

This time they didn’t need to resort to the looking glass.  The marks were similar to the ones Quellan had highlighted earlier, but they were of a greater magnitude, easily overpowering the ongoing background ridges from the giants’ tunneling efforts far below them.  They continued to swell, until the stylus was forging a mountain range across the slowly shifting sphere.

As the seismograph traced the growing disturbance the two clerics could feel the vibrations start to spread through the floor, a soft quiver that quickly became a steady pulse.  Finally, after what could not have been more than a few seconds, there was a loud rumble that seemed like it had come from the temple just outside.

“What was that?” Quellan asked.  He had reached reflexively for his mace as soon as the vibrations had begun, but he glanced knowingly over at Akhenon, who wore only his formal robes and carried no obvious weapons on his person.  There was no way that the dwarf cleric could have missed the significance of that look, but there was no hesitation in his manner as he started toward the door.

Quellan quickly moved after him.  “Elder… perhaps it would be wise to let me take the lead,” he said, unlimbering his shield so that the embedded symbol of Hosrenu was facing ahead.

The dwarf’s expression darkened, but he nodded.

Quellan advanced to the door that led to the main temple and pushed against it with his shield.

The temple was dark, and for a moment Quellan thought that the lamps in the nave had all gone out.  But then he realized that the light from the lamps behind the altar stone just suddenly _stopped_ at a sharp edge of blackness that filled the central space, maybe ten steps from where he stood.

Akhenon appeared in the doorway behind him.  “Magical darkness,” he said, confirming Quellan’s suspicion.  The dwarf stepped forward and raised his holy symbol, calling upon the power of his patron.

The book inscribed upon the cleric’s sigil flashed, and an echoing glow appeared at the summit of the nave, within the heart of the darkness.  It quickly brightened, driving the shadows away until the nave was filled with brilliant _daylight_.

The light revealed the source of the disturbance they had detected just moments below.  The solid stone floor of the temple had collapsed as if had suddenly turned to sand, forming a sinkhole almost eight feet across in the center of the floor.  No, not sand, Quellan amended as he saw the awful black forms clambering up out of the hole.  The stone had become mud, mud that clung to and caked the trolls as they cried out and lifted their arms to shield their eyes from the sudden brightness.


----------



## Lazybones

Here are the character stats for where they are now. For simplicity I did not stat out the minor characters (though I did do blocks for Embrae and Majerion, see below). Darik is a Veteran, Koron a Gladiator. Shreskra is a Knight and her rangers are Scouts.

* * *

Bredan Karras, Human Male Fighter, Level 6
AC 16 (chain mail), hp 56, Str 19, Dex 11, Con 16, Int 9, Wis 14, Cha 13
Attacks 2x Greatsword +8 melee (2d6+5 damage), Light Crossbow +6 ranged (1d8 damage)
Background: Folk Hero
Skills: Animal Handling +5, Athletics +7, Perception +5, Survival +5
Special Abilities: Fighting Style: Great Weapon Fighting, Second Wind, Action Surge, Martial Archetype (Eldritch Knight), Weapon Bond
Spells (DC 10, 3 1st level slots/day): 0/Blade Ward, 0/True Strike, 1/Jump, 1/Longstrider, 1/Protection from Evil and Good, 1/Shield
Equipment: Chain mail, +1 greatsword, light crossbow and 20 bolts, light hammer

Glorianna (Glori) Leliades, Half-Elf Female Bard, Level 6
AC 15 (leather armor), hp 45, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 18
Attacks 2x Shortbow +7 ranged (1d6+4 damage), 2x Shortsword +6 melee (1d8+3 damage)
Background: Entertainer
Skills: Acrobatics +6, Deception +7, Sleight of Hand +6, History +4, Investigation +4, Performance +7, Persuasion +7
SA Darkvision, Bardic Inspiration (d8), Jack of All Trades, Song of Rest (d6), Bard College (Valor), Combat Inspiration, Font of Inspiration, Countercharm
Spells (SAB +7, DC 15, 4 1st level, 3 2nd level, 3 3rd level slots/day): 0/Dancing Lights, 0/Mending, 0/Minor Illusion, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Sleep, 1/Thunderwave, 2/Enhance Ability, 2/Invisibility, 2/Suggestion, 3/Fear, 3/Hypnotic Pattern, 3/Major Image
Equipment: Lyre, leather armor, +1 shortbow and 20 arrows, shortsword, dagger, brooch of antivenom (2 charges)

Kosk Stonefist, Hill Dwarf Male Monk, Level 6
AC 13 (no armor), hp 53, Str 16, Dex 13, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Attacks Quarterstaff +6 melee (1d6+3) and Martial Arts +6 melee (1d6+3), or darts +4 ranged (1d4+1 damage)
Background: Criminal
Skills: Athletics +6, Deception +2, Insight +5, Stealth +4
SA: Dwarven Toughness, +15 movement, 6 Ki points (flurry of blows, patient defense, step of the wind, or stunning strike), Monastic Tradition (Open Hand), Deflect Missiles, Ki-Empowered Strikes, Wholeness of Body (18)
Equipment: quarterstaff, 10 darts

Quellan Emberlane, Half-Orc Male Cleric, Level 6
AC 16 (half plate, shield), hp 45, Str 16, Dex 8, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 17, Cha 10
Attacks Mace +7 melee (1d6+4 damage)
Background: Acolyte
Skills: Arcana +4, Insight +6, Intimidation +3, History +4, Medicine +6, Persuasion +3, Religion +6
SA Darkvision, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Knowledge Domain, Channel Divinity (2/rest), Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency in a tool or skill for 10 minutes), Destroy Undead (CR ½), Read Thoughts
Spells (SAB +6, DC 14, 4 1st level, 3 2nd level, 3 3rd level slots/day): 0/Light, 0/Sacred Flame, 0/Spare the Dying, 0/Thaumaturgy, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Guiding Bolt, 1/Command, 1/Identify, 2/Hold Person, 2/Lesser Restoration, 2/Prayer of Healing, 2/Warding Bond, 2/Augury, 2/Suggestion, 3/Mass Healing Word, 3/Spirit Guardians, 3/Revivify, 3/Nondetection, 3/Speak with Dead
Equipment: Half Plate, +1 Mace, Shield

Xeeta, Tiefling Female Sorcerer, Level 6
AC 12 (15 with mage armor), hp 32, Str 8, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 17
Attacks Dagger +5 melee or ranged (1d4+2)
Background: Urchin
Skills: Deception +6, Intimidation +6, Sleight of Hand +5, Stealth +5
SA Darkvision, Hellish Resistance (fire), Infernal Legacy, 6 Sorcery Points, Wild Magic, Tides of Chaos, Metamagic (Empowered Spell, Quickened Spell)
Spells (SAB +7, DC13, 4 1st level, 3 2nd level, and 3 3rd level slots/day): 0/Fire Bolt, 0/Friends, 0/Mage Hand, 0/Message, 0/True Strike, 1/Burning Hands, 1/Mage Armor, 2/Alter Self, 2/Scorching Ray, 3/Fireball, 3/Haste, 3/Protection from Energy
Equipment: two daggers, +1 Rod of the War Mage (as the wand)

* * * 

Supporting characters

Embrae Kelandras, High Elf Monk 6 (Sun Soul)
AC 15, hp 39, Str 8, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 15, Cha10
Attacks: Martial Arts +6 x2 (1d6+3) or Radiant Sun Bolt +6 (1d6+3)
Background: Noble
Skills: Acrobatics +6, History +5, Insight +5, Persuasion +3
SA: +15 movement, 6 Ki points (flurry of blows, patient defense, step of the wind, or stunning strike), Monastic Tradition (Sun Soul), Deflect Missiles, Ki-Empowered Strikes, Searing Arc Strike (as burning hands spell, bonus action)
Spells: Prestidigitation
Equipment: pan flute

Majerion, High Elf Bard 7
AC 14, hp 38, Str 10, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 17
Attacks: Rapier +5 melee (1d8+3)
Background: Noble
Skills: Deception +6, History +5, Investigation +5, Perception +3, Performance +6, Persuasion +6, Sleight of Hand +6, Stealth +6
Spells: 4C, 12 spells known (both include class/race bonuses), 4/3/3/1 per day. 0/Mage Hand, 0/Message, 0/Minor Illusion, 0/Vicious Mockery, 1/Charm Person, 1/Cure Wounds, 1/Faerie Fire, 1/Sleep, 2/Calm Emotions, 2/Invisibility, 2/Suggestion, 3/Dispel Magic, 3/Sending, 3/Tongues, 4/Dimension Door, 4/Greater Invisibility
SA: Bardic Inspiration (d8), Jack of All Trades, Song of Rest (d6), Countercharm, Bard College (Lore), Cutting Words,  
Equipment: Leather Armor, Silvered Rapier, Cli Lyre (stone shape, wall of fire, wind wall)


----------



## carborundum

Wow, they're only level six!


----------



## Lazybones

Yep, I was actually calculating encounter XP early on, but switched to a variant of milestone XP as the story developed.

Time for the Friday cliffhanger!

* * * 

Chapter 199

The sight of trolls crawling over the toppled pews within a holy sanctuary of his god filled Quellan with rage.  He let the divine energy of his patron swell in him as he opened his mouth and shouted with enough force to shake the walls, “Invaders in the Temple of Hosrenu!”  Augmented by his _thaumaturgy_, the loud cry would, he hoped, bring every dwarf in this part of the city to their aid.

But they would still have to survive long enough for aid to arrive, he realized as the trolls turned toward them and leapt to attack.  Some charged for the open aisle between the pews, the gap narrowed by the damage wrought by the skinhole, but most of them just leapt over the seats, taking the most direct route to their adversaries.  Quellan noted that some on the other side of the sinkhole turned instead toward the far exit.  At first he thought they were headed out into the dwarven city to cause havoc, but then he saw several trolls pick up one of the heavy stone pews and drag it over to block the doors.

_What they want, it’s here_, he thought, but he had no chance to share his revelation with Akhenon, as the trolls were coming fast.

The half-orc rushed forward to use the frontmost pew as a rampart, intercepting the first troll before it could clear the waist-high barrier.  His mace smashed it hard across the face, but he already knew that these creatures were tough, and that it would take more than that to bring one down.  The troll proved his point a moment later as it lunged at him, tearing with its claws and snapping at his face with its broad jaws.  Quellan got his shield up in time but the sheer ferocity of the attack drove him back, yielding the protection offered by the raised backs of the stone pews.

Flames roared up out of nothing, filling the interior of the temple.  At first Quellan thought it was another attack, but then he saw that the _wall of fire_ had formed a ring around the sinkhole, sealing it off from the rest of the temple.  Trolls caught within the barrier screamed in pain, but as they staggered clear Quellan could see the marks in their chests glowing, whatever dark magic that was embedded in those sigils protecting them from the full force of the divine fire.

Akhenon’s magic had gained them a brief respite from troll reinforcements, but did nothing to help the embattled pair of priests against those already present.  Even as the flames reached the top of the temple another troll hopped the last pew and charged toward the dwarf cleric, intent on tearing him apart.  Quellan pushed the troll still pressing him off with a surge of effort and swung his mace at the other as it rushed past.  His mace cracked it hard on the back of its left knee, staggering it and drawing its attention.  He didn’t need to look back to know that the first troll would be coming at him from behind, or that he wouldn’t last long with the two creatures flanking him.

On the far side of the room the temple doors rattled, but whoever was on the other side couldn’t immediately shift the weight of the stone pew resting against them.  The trolls there were already dragging a second pew over, adding to their improvised barricade.

Quellan thrust the edge of his shield into a troll’s face, putting all of his efforts into keeping the hideous creature at bay.  The other had grabbed hold of his weapon arm and was trying to rip the limb out of its socket.  He gave ground as both trolls pushed at him, until he reached the raised platform that supported the altar stone.  He was barely able to keep from being toppled over onto his back, even as the trolls continued to tear at him.  A sharp pain stabbed through his side as an armored plate ripped free from its moorings, and he could feel the tendons in his right arm scream in pain as they were stretched to their limit.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see a third troll rapidly approaching, although its presence seemed largely superfluous at the moment.  He couldn’t move as the first troll seized his shield and dragged it down; now they had both of his arms pinned.  The first let out a screech of triumph and leaned forward to take a bite out of his face.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 200

Something big and bulky shot past Quellan’s face.  It struck the troll and knocked it off of him.  The troll collapsed to the floor, the jaws that had seemed so deadly a moment ago transformed into a shattered wreckage.  The other one started in surprise, allowing Quellan to tear his arm free and smash it a backhanded blow with his mace.  Stumbling clear, the cleric turned to see what unexpected ally had saved him.

What he saw almost caused him to drop his weapon.  The thing that had knocked the trolls off of him was the altar stone.  The huge block had risen up on its supporting “limbs” and had joined the battle.  The mark of the book carved into the central stone was glowing like a halo, adding to the surreal nature of the scene as it clomped down off the platform toward the trolls.

Quellan was so amazed that he almost failed to see the troll charging at him.  He heard its cry of triumph and belatedly brought his shield around, but before it could take advantage of his distraction something flew past the cleric and engulfed the troll’s head.  It was the altar drape, the linen cloth animated by the same power that had given life to the huge stone.

“They seek the vault!” a familiar voice called.  Still slightly dazed, Quellan looked over to see Akhenon gesturing a few feet away.  The dwarf cleric appeared to be unhurt, but the half-orc could see that his good fortune would not last long.  Even with the _animated objects_ attacking the trolls, the numbers were still against the priests and getting worse by the second.  The _wall of fire_ had dissipated, either dispelled or intentionally allowed to fade so that Akhenon could shift his concentration to the other spell.  Either way, trolls were still pouring out of the hole in the floor.  There were at least a dozen in the room now, and Quellan had no idea how many were still waiting below.

“Fall back to the inner chambers!” Akhenon called.  Quellan ran after him, dodging a troll that was grappling with an animated censer-chain.  He barely got clear before the creature tore the chain to pieces, the broken links clattering on the floor like a cascade of dropped coins.

Quellan was almost to the door when a hint of unfamiliar motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back toward the center of the temple.  Another intruder had arrived, this one different from the horde of trolls that had preceded him.  The most obvious distance was that he was floating in mid-air, hovering a good five feet above the gaping hole of the sinkhole.  He was smaller and thinner than the trolls, his frame obscured by a long, cowled cloak that concealed his features within generous folds of black cloth.  Quellan couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the figure’s gaze on him as he twisted around in mid-air, calmly surveying the chaos of the battle within the temple.

The screams of the trolls followed the two clerics as they rushed through the door and slammed it shut behind them.  Akhenon shot the latch, an iron bolt that would have looked quite secure against a normal foe, but which was less than impressive against what they had already seen.

“That won’t hold them,” Quellan said.

“No,” Akhenon acknowledged.  “Can you hold them off for a few moments?”

Quellan nodded.  “Is this the only way in?”

“Yes.”

The dwarf started to turn away, but Quellan quickly said, “There’s a spellcaster out there.”

“I saw.  I will be right back.  Do not let them win through to the Vault.”  Without waiting for a response Akhenon hurried off.

Quellan reached over and grabbed hold of a heavy cabinet standing nearby, dragging it to rest against the door.  Even as he settled it into place the door shuddered against a heavy impact, and then another.  The latch held, but Quellan could imagine the trolls gathering their numbers in anticipation of a serious assault.  He could still hear the ponderous thuds as the animated altar continued its defense of the temple, but he doubted it would last long against the unidentified caster whose magic had burrowed a route into the heart of Ironcrest’s defenses.

He thought about what he could do to stop such a foe.  His own magic was less suited to an arcane duel than the more destructive potency wielded by Xeeta, but she was with Bredan, lured far away from the true goal of their enemy.  It was only blind fate that had brought him and Akhenon back here…

The thought tugged at him, but another hard impact against the door shook him from his reverie.  Leaning against the cabinet, adding his own weight to the solidity of the barrier, he closed his eyes and reached up to touch his holy symbol.  He opened himself to the power of his god, drawing upon a spell he had never cast before, but which he prayed would aid them in holding back the dark horde that threatened the temple.

The holy symbol began to glow, echoed a moment later by the matching symbol graven into his shield.  Other sigils appeared around him, the open book sparkling into being on the door, the cabinet, and the surrounding walls.  A pair of books even took shape hovering in the air around his head.  Words seemed to form upon the blank pages, constantly shifting before they could take on solid form.

Even as Quellan’s spell took effect, the sounds of fighting from beyond the door suddenly ceased.

Quellan tensed, expecting another assault upon the door, but when the enemy made its gambit it was subtle, catching him off-guard.

The only warning he got was a slight shimmer, not from the door, but in the stone of the surrounding jam.  Before he could react the stone suddenly _withdrew_, leaving the door’s hinges suddenly hanging in mid-air.  Several of the heavy iron bolts fell to the ground with a clatter.  Almost immediately several sets of clawed hands thrust into the gap and pulled the now-anchorless door clear.  The cabinet that Quellan had moved settled against the jam, leaving at least something of a barrier, but the trolls had already proven their ability to scamper over or around any obstacle.

The door was barely out of the way before another one of them sought to prove that anew.  The troll hissed at Quellan as it hurled itself bodily through the doorway, trying to clear the cabinet in a single bound, but as it passed through the threshold it ran into the cleric’s spell.  The glowing sigils he had conjured had faded after the casting but now they brightened again.  The one that had settled on the door now hovered in mid-air, and as the troll struck it there was a radiant burst that seared the troll and caused it to scream in pain.  Quellan quickly took advantage of its distraction, slamming it hard with his shield and knocking it back out of the doorway.

But he had gained only a momentary respite.  The first troll had barely hit the ground when two others rushed over it, one even using its fallen ally as a stepping-stone.  One grabbed onto the cabinet and pulled it over onto its side.  Again the _spirit guardians_ flashed, but this time the trolls were ready and gritted through the pain.  Quellan noted that the holy power did not appear to be affected by whatever resistance the trolls’ embedded sigils granted them, but his magic clearly wasn’t going to be able to stop them on its own.

So he charged, pushing forward until he blocked the doorway with his sheer bulk, using the overturned cabinet as a shield for his legs.  He struck the first troll with his mace, dazing it slightly but failing to bring it down.  The second he smashed with the edge of his shield, knocking it off balance.  He could see more trolls waiting behind these two, but for the moment they could not get past him.

His lips twisted into a snarl as he prepared for their counterattack, but to his surprise the trolls withdrew, the one he’d hit with his shield dropping back while the other one threw itself prone.  Too late he realized what that portended, as he lowered his shield to see the dark-cloaked figure standing there not twenty feet away, its arm raised to point toward him.

A pulse of white energy filled his vision.  His nostrils were filled with the sound of overcooked meat.  He realized that he was on his back, several paces back from the open doorway.  The cabinet had been shattered and was on fire.  The glowing _spirit guardians_ were gone.

Through a sheer effort of will, aided by the relentless endurance of his orcish bloodline, he managed to pull himself back to his feet.  He was still holding onto his mace, though his muscles didn’t seem to want to work right as he tried to raise the weapon into a fighting position.  But at least he would die standing, he thought as the trolls surged forward again.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 201

Quellan readied himself to sell his life for as high a cost as possible, though he knew that in his current state even a single blow from one of those trolls would likely kill him.

But even as the trolls charged through the doorway the gap was engulfed in fire.  Quellan’s first thought was that there had been something flammable within the broken cabinet, but as the flames intensified he realized what it was.  He turned to see Akhenon standing in the mouth of the hallway that led back to his private quarters.  The old dwarf looked different.  He had not had time to put on armor, but he wore a set of heavy metal gauntlets that protected his hands and forearms, and he’d replaced his robe with a thick leather vest fastened with a broad steel buckle the size of a dinner plate.  In one hand he carried a blockish steel shield that bore the sigil of Hosrenu, but this book, unlike the one that Quellan bore on his arm, was surrounded by flames and superimposed on broad anvil.  In his other hand he carried a mace that made even the hefty orc-weapon Quellan carried look petite.  Its head was wreathed in flames that echoed the conflagration burning in the doorway.

“We hold here,” the dwarf declared, in a way that made the statement a simple fact.

Quellan was glad to yield the doorway to him, taking advantage of the respite to cast _cure wounds_ upon himself.  He was running out of spells but he dug deep into his reservoir, letting the benign magic restore some of what the enemy wizard had blasted out of him.

Whatever motivated the trolls, it was already clear that they weren’t going to let even a roaring sheet of fire stop them.  And even as the healing magic coursed through Quellan the first of the trolls leapt through it, the flames clinging to its body as it stumbled slightly on the burning wreckage of the cabinet.  Akhenon met it with a dwarven battle cry, sweeping his mace into the center of its torso.  Quellan though that he hit hard, but the old dwarf’s strength was truly impressive.  The head of the mace exploded with flames as it struck, and the troll was knocked over backwards, landing in a smoking heap on the edge of the _wall of fire_.

More trolls came in the wake of the first, appearing first as dark shadows that took on solid form as they passed through the burning wall.  Quellan rushed forward to join Akhenon.  “The wizard’s out there!” he warned.

“I know,” Akhenon said.  “I can feel him, trying to take down my magic.”

But whether the cleric’s will was stronger, or the unseen enemy just needed more time, the _wall of fire_ remained, at least for the moment.  The trolls kept on pushing, and Akhenon and Quellan met them together with steel and fire.


----------



## carborundum

Awesome!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Awesome!



Thanks!

* * * 

Chapter 202

The next day found more slow going for Glori and her companions, as the landscape in the Reserve grew more rugged.  The trees thinned out somewhat, but that only allowed the undergrowth to thicken until the party had to hack a route through clinging bushes and tangles of weeds that rose to chest-height in places.  The fact that they were all still exhausted from a mostly-sleepless night didn’t help matters.

Ultimately, they’d decided to remain at the Tender outpost, for even after the damage wrought in the attack it was still the most fortified place they could hope to find.  The fire did not spread to the other cabins but it continued to burn until almost morning, until the gray smoke that rose from the ruin met the gathering morning fog to form a dense pall around them.

They found no sign whatsoever of Razelle, despite repeated and extensive searches by Shreskra and her rangers.  Nor were they able to get any answers out of Brightbriar.  There hadn’t been much left of the altered creature that Embrae had burned to examine, and the suggestion that the two of them had once been members of his order had left the Tender in a distressed funk.  He walked in the center of their diminished column, not speaking unless spoken to, and often then only after repeated inquiries.

They all remained much closer together that day, a lesson already learned repeatedly in the harsh school of the Reserve.  Glori’s thoughts felt sluggish, though she forced herself to frequently check her surroundings, wary of whatever new tricks the forest might offer.

Kosk and Embrae engaged in scattered conversation across the morning, some of which Glori overheard.

“I did not know that you were a devotee of the Sun Soul,” the dwarf asked as they were making their way slowly up an exposed ridge, the latest in a series of increasingly difficult obstacles that had greeted them that day.  On being prodded Brightbriar reported that there was no easy route around them; the ridges had to be defeated through sheer effort.  Fortunately, they were not too steep to climb, and for the most part the Rangers were able to keep their ropes and climbing hooks in their packs.

“I felt drawn to it,” Embrae said, in answer to Kosk’s question.

Glori stopped, her curiosity awakened by their conversation.  “Is that another kind of _ki_, those blasts of energy you shot at that thing?” she asked.

“Followers of the sun soul learn how to channel radiant energy through their bodies,” Embrae explained.  “It is a form of magic, but one that is bound to the life force within a trained monk.”

“That fire you hit it with at the end… I’ve seen Xeeta use a similar magic,” Glori said.

“It seemed particularly effective against these foes,” Kosk said.  “I wonder if those Tenders were undead.”

“They weren’t like the things we fought in the past, but I suppose it’s possible,” Glori said.  “I didn’t sense any decay, rather the opposite.”

“Well, the one I fought didn’t react like a living creature,” Kosk said.  “Embrae, what do you think?”

“I could sense something… I do not know if it was the lingering taint of undeath, but there was definitely some power driving those things,” Embrae said.  “It felt like the body had become a shell for something else to use.  The thought of something corrupting living beings like that… it is troubling.”

“From what I saw, there were some disturbing similarities between those two and what happened to Javerin,” Glori said.

“That’s a cheerful thought,” Kosk said.

“I hope that she is still alive,” Embrae said.

“I’ll wager that this Druid we’re looking for is involved in all this,” Kosk said.  “I am not quite sure of our guide, either.”

He added the last more quietly, but Glori still glanced over at Brightbriar, just a few paces ahead in their column.  But the Tender continued to trudge forward with his head lowered, seemingly oblivious.

“Either way, we have to find out,” Embrae said.  “The corruption we have already seen in the Reserve… it is too dangerous to let be.  We must seek out its source, and if we can, purge it.”

“I’ll just add that to the bloody to-do list, then,” Kosk muttered.

The terrain continued to grow more difficult as the day went on.  Once they passed the last of the series of ridges the forest floor became more level, but the ground quickly became softer, then spongy as they found themselves entering a marshland.  Pools of stagnant water appeared around them, growing in size and frequency until they had to pick their way carefully around them.  The trees that had thinned through their progress through the ridges returned with a vengeance, until once again the sky was only visible through occasional gaps in the canopy above.

Glori grimaced as her boot sank almost to the cuff into a muddy bog.  “How far does this go?” she asked.  “Brightbriar!  How long do we have to go through this?”

The Tender turned to look at her.  “Not long,” he said.  “The ground rises again on the far side of the mirk.”

Glori wasn’t entirely happy with the answer, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.  The Tender seemed like he was barely keeping it together, and they still needed him too much for her to push him over the edge.  Shreskra, on the other hand, had become almost manic.  She hadn’t issued any orders to Glori or her companions since the fight at the Outpost, but she kept pushing her Rangers hard, driving them to a faster pace.  She spent much of her time at the front of the column herself, probing ahead for a route that wouldn’t force them to swim through a deep pool or get tangled in dense growth.  Maybe it was guilt over her missing companion, Glori thought.  Or maybe she just wanted to get them to their destination before any more of them disappeared.

Despite the Ranger leader’s urging, their progress slowed further as the swamp thickened.  They never found an obstacle that was unsurmountable, but within an hour they were all coated in mud and soaked through.  The bugs had also returned, buzzing aggressively around them as if to make up for lost time.  Glori began to worry that night would catch up to them before they reached the far side, forcing them to camp in this unwholesome place.

But even as her thought darkened the ground started to become steadier ahead, and they were able to pick up their pace once more.  The pools continued to surround them, but were now easily avoided.  The trees began to thin out once more, allowing Glori to catch a glimpse of what looked like a series of low cliffs rising up from the forest floor ahead of them, offering the promise of an escape from the swamp.

The exhausted company emerged from the trees to see that the cliffs extended for as far as they could see to their left and right.  They did not look like too difficult an obstacle; they ranged from twenty to thirty feet high, but there were places where it looked like one might venture an ascent.  The scattered pools extended up to their very base, choked with dense growth, but there were plenty of places where the ground looked solid.

But there was something else that they noticed immediately.  Someone was waiting for them.

A dark figure stood atop the cliffs, almost directly ahead.  It was a man, or at least it looked like a man, covered in a long cloak that ruffled slightly in the breeze.  A deep cowl covered his face.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 203

“Is that the Druid?” Kosk asked.

Brightbriar shook his head.  “No, no,” he said.  But Glori could not tell if that was an answer or a denial of a truth he did not want to acknowledge.

Darethan had an arrow fitted to his great bow.  “I have a shot,” he said, looking over at Shreskra.  But the Ranger leader looked uncertain.

Kosk turned to Embrae.  “Can you hit him?”

The elf monk shook her head.  “Too far.”

Glori started to reach for her own bow, though it would be a long shot for her lighter weapon.  But before she could unlimber it the shadowed figure spoke.  They could clearly hear his words despite the distance that separated them, suggesting that he was using magic to augment his speech.

“You will go no further,” the strange figure said.  His voice was scratchy, as if he hadn’t had a drink of water in days.  “The corruption you have brought will not taint the Reserve.”

“Thus far it seems pretty corrupted already,” Kosk said.

“We come to speak with the Druid!” Glori shouted, her trained bard’s voice carrying easily across the distance.  “We have the authority of Tal Nadesh behind us.  Stand aside, or we will consider you our enemy!”

“We know why you have come,” the dark figure rasped.  “You shall not have it!”  He raised his arms, the black cloth sloughing back to reveal pale, thin arms.

“Shoot him now!” Majerion barked at Darethan.

The command in the bard’s voice had the elf Ranger drawing and firing immediately.  The arrow arced on a shallow parabola before plunging down directly toward the dark figure’s chest.  But instead of striking him, the shaft sliced narrowly past his head.  Darethan blinked in disbelief before reaching for another arrow.

But he didn’t get a chance to try again before their unidentified adversary unleashed his power.  His head tilted up and he shouted something at the sky, a string of harsh syllables that grated on the companions’ awareness but held no meaning.  But the land itself responded.  Plumes of water erupted from two of the pools at the base of the cliffs in front of him, followed by two hulking creatures that rose into view.  They had the vague shape of men but were half again as tall, their forms covered in muck and growth that made it difficult to see what exactly they were.  The water in the pools rose to their waists, but that didn’t seem to slow them much as they trudged forward toward the companions.

Darethan launched his second arrow, which struck one of the creatures in the chest.  If the thing felt it, it wasn’t immediately obvious.  The dark figure had disappeared during the distraction of their appearance.

“We cannot fight these,” Majerion said.

“We must fall back,” Shreskra said.

“Into the swamp?” Kosk asked.  “Something tells me those things will be able to move a lost faster than we can in that mire.”

“Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly!” Embrae warned.  “Look!”

They turned to see that more of the things were emerging from pools further back along the cliffs.  There were four of them in view now, though none of them would have placed a wager that they were the last of them.  The first pair had emerged from their pools, revealing the sheer massive bulk that comprised their forms.  They looked like giant shambling masses of vegetable matter, held together with mud and tendrils of vines and roots.  They shambled toward the companions, the sodden ground shaking with each step.

“We have no choice, now!” Shreskra hissed, her voice sounding almost as strained as the dark figure’s earlier.

“I think we can get around them!” Majerion said.  “Circle around and scale the cliffs!”

“Either way, we have to move!” Glori said.  She followed her former mentor as he led them at a sprint along a path that would take them north, paralleling the cliffs.  The others fell in behind them, glancing back to confirm that the shambling mounds were in pursuit, as if there could be any doubt with their ground-shaking footfalls drawing steadily nearer.

But for all their size the things did move slowly, and for a moment it looked as though Majerion’s gambit would work.  The ground was soft but not excessively so, and no more of the monsters emerged to block their escape.  The cliffs remained a good distance away as they followed the edge of the forest, but it looked as though they would be able to cut over once they were well clear of their pursuers.

But then, almost as if conjured by that fleeting hope, Loriellan stumbled into a waist-high bog that had been rendered almost invisible by a dense carpet of floating plants.  Once revealed they could see that the water curved around them in a broad arc, almost as if designed to pen them in.

“You led us into a trap!” Shreskra cried.


----------



## carborundum

And it's not even Friday!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 204

Glori turned to face the approaching creatures.  The first two were now within a hundred feet and closing fast.  The other two were steadily narrowing the gap, approaching from an angle that would cut them off if they broke toward the cliffs.

Glori strummed her lyre, summoning her magic.  She focused on a spot just inside the edge of the forest, close to the line of approach of the nearer creatures.  A small group of elves suddenly burst from within the trees, waving their swords and shouting at the shambling mounds.

The creatures completely ignored them.  The elves moved closer, threatening more aggressively, but the shambling mounds kept trudging forward.  One even walked straight through one of them, the illusory outline of Glori’s _major image_ shimmering as the creature passed through it.

“Glori!” Kosk shouted.

She turned to see that the others, lacking any other viable option, had started to wade across the pool.  Loriellan was in the lead, and while the water rose to his chest it did not go any higher as he probed forward.  But the clinging muck made it difficult, and to Glori it seemed as though they were crawling though the water.

But there was no other choice, short of remaining there for the creatures to reach her.  She briefly considered turning _invisible_ and trying to draw them off, but after seeing their reaction to her illusion she was not confident that the cloaking magic would conceal her.

Instead she sprang forward into the water, holding her lyre up so the strings would not get soaked.  The mud sucked at her boots, nearly pulling her off balance.  Even as she fought to remain upright a strong hand seized hold of her and steadied her.  She looked up to see Embrae standing there.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Come on,” the monk urged.

Glori followed her.  The elf woman seemed to slide through the water, but to Glori it felt like every step was a struggle.  At least she was tall enough to remain clear of the surface; she could see Kosk ahead, his head barely clear of the water while his arms sent up great gouts of water as he splashed ahead.  The Rangers were doing a bit better, but the far side of the pool still seemed like it was impossibly far away.

Glori resisted the urge to look back, but it was impossible to miss the signs of the closing creatures.  The surface of the pool began to vibrate, and she could hear the sucking sounds of their massive tread drawing closer.  With Embrae half-holding, half-pulling her she stumbled forward.

“We’re almost there!” the monk urged.  Glori looked up in disbelief, but she saw that the elves were in fact rising up out of the muck, coated in mud and clinging bits of green growth but definitely surging up onto solid ground.  They caught up to Kosk and each grabbed hold of an arm, helping to push the dwarf forward toward the shallows.  The elves, to their credit, did not rush ahead toward safety.  Darethan was plying his bow, firing shaft after shaft toward the pursuing creatures, while Loriellan was adding to the barrage with his smaller hunter’s weapon.  Glori could not see that either of them was having an effect, but the display did help boost her morale a bit.  Majerion emerged from the clinging mud and shook himself off.  Strumming his lyre, he conjured a bit of magical potency that caused the muck to slough off of his body, leaving him looking only slightly mussed.

Shreskra and Tenaille turned back to help pull Kosk up out of the water.  Glori glanced back to see that the pursuing creatures had reached the far edge of the pool; even as she watched the first took a deep stride forward, the mud and water offering it no difficulty.

“Come on, come on!” Shreskra said, but even as Glori pulled herself fully out of the pool Loriellan shouted, “We’re being cut off!”

They turned to see that the two flanking creatures had circled wide around the pool, taking them further from the companions for the moment but effectively blocking their route to the cliffs.  And behind them, Glori could now see as she stood, was still another sodden mirk, this one tangled with an even denser nest of growth.

“We’re better off engaging those two than waiting to be attacked on both sides,” Kosk said.  The soaked and miserable-looking dwarf started forward, but Majerion caught his shoulder and held him up.  “I might be able to hold them off,” he said.  “Follow that shoreline over there!” he commanded.

The indicated route would take them close to the slowly-approaching creatures, but lacking a better option they all headed in that direction.  The two shambling mounds adjusted their course to cut them off again.

Majerion strummed his lyre, the instrument thrumming with strains of power that Glori remembered well.  She could almost see the notes as he flung them out from the device, conjuring magic that took on solid form.

Once more flames surged up at the elf’s command.  They formed a more or less straight line that sliced between several of the pools, the heat causing the water to bubble and steam.  Glori flinched as the near edge of the _wall of fire_ approached close enough for her almost to touch, but somehow the heat of it radiated away from them, toward their adversaries.

The shambling mounds clearly felt that heat.  The two flanking them recoiled instinctively from it, giving the fugitives a brief opportunity to rush past.  Once clear they sprinted toward the cliffs.

One of the shambling mounds stepped aside into one of the pools as flames licked its upper body.  The other sank into the sodden ground.

“They’re giving up!” Darethan shouted.

“I wouldn’t bet on it!” Kosk yelled back.

The dwarf’s warning was proven true a moment later, as the ground on their side of the wall began to bulge upward.  The muddy soil split open to reveal an arm formed of woven vines, followed by the rest of the creature.  The two that had followed their quarry into the pool had likewise detoured around the edge of the _wall of fire_ and quickly found themselves again on solid ground.  But the companions were past them, and soon reached the base of the cliffs, where a twenty-five-foot ascent of crumbling dirt and rocks waited for them.

Tenaille did not hesitate; as soon as the Ranger hit the wall she sprang up and began climbing.  She had drawn out two of her knives, squat, shovel-shaped blades that bit hard into the surface.  At first Loriellan started to follow her, but he managed to get only five feet off the ground before the loose earth gave way and he slid back down to the ground.  The others quickly gathered into a perimeter around the limp and choking figure of the Tender, who had collapsed against the base of the cliff.

“Can you manage another of those fire-walls?” Kosk asked.  All four of the creatures had now bypassed the barrier, though the spell had bought them some distance.

“Only once per day, unfortunately,” Majerion said.

“I have a few more things I can try,” Glori said.  “But I’ll have to wait until they get close.”  She looked up and saw that Tenaille had already vanished over the crest of the cliff.  She felt a momentary fear that the cloaked enemy had been waiting for her up there, but then a length of rope was cast over the edge, followed a moment later by a second.

“Go, go!” Shreskra said, thrusting first Embrae and then Loriellan toward the ropes.  The monk hesitated for only a moment before scrambling up the ascent as if it was a flat surface rather than an almost sheer cliff.

“Majerion, Glori, you’re next,” the Ranger leader said.

“The Tender…” Glori began.

“Tie the rope around him if he can’t climb,” Shreskra said.  “Around his neck would be fine,” she added in an undertone that Glori just barely picked up.

But Majerion had gotten the old man back to his feet, and with only a little prodding he started up the rope.  Loriellan got to the top and tossed down a third length of rope, then began to help pull Brightbriar up.

“Going to be tight,” Kosk said as Glori grabbed hold of a rope.

“I can buy you some time,” she said.

“You can do that from up there,” the monk said, pushing her toward the cliff.  He stepped forward to join Shreskra, who had drawn her sword as she faced the approaching monster.  “You figure on sacrificing yourself here?” he asked her.

“I go up when the last of my people is safe,” she said.  “What about you?”

“I don’t plan on getting killed by some overgrown bush,” the dwarf said.

Darethan fired off one last arrow before scrambling up one of the ropes.  Shreskra and the dwarf were the only ones left on the ground now as the lead creature closed the distance.  As it got close it seemed to be even bigger than it had looked while chasing them, looming well over twice the dwarf’s height.

“When I make a move, you go for the ropes,” Kosk said.

Shreskra hesitated.  The creature stomped forward toward them, one huge “arm” coming up to strike.  They could hear the sounds of a lyre being played, but whether it was Majerion’s or Glori’s, it did not appear to have any effect that they could see.  A bright flash of a _radiant sun bolt_ from Embrae struck the thing high in the chest.  The searing energy blasted a black swath into its body, but the thing didn’t even flinch, sweeping its arm down toward the pair standing in defiance in front of it.

“Now!” the dwarf said.

Shreskra darted back, just barely escaping the creature’s unnaturally long reach.  Kosk, by contrast, leapt _over_ the arm, kicking off it as it passed and leaping toward its head.  A seam opened there to reveal a waiting maw, filled with hard ridges and rotting foulness, but the dwarf shifted in mid-leap and landed on its shoulder.  He fell into a crouch and then, with a sharp yell, unleashed his _ki_ into a mighty leap that carried him across the twenty feet that separated him from the cliff.  The jump wasn’t nearly enough to carry him to the top, but as he landed Tenaille flicked one of the loose ropes, snapping it close enough for him to grab hold of it.  He quickly pulled himself up.

The shambling mound, frustrated by the sudden disappearance of its adversary, lunged forward to smash the climbing Shreskra against the rocks.  But before it could strike, Majerion stepped forward and planted his foot against a boulder embedded near the top of the cliff.  Strumming his lyre, the mass of rock shifted and gave way, tumbling over the edge.  It narrowly missed the climbing elf woman and slammed hard into the creature’s face.  The impact knocked the thing back a step, long enough for the Ranger leader to escape its reach.  Loriellan leaned over to grab her arm and pull her up over the edge.

“If those things… can climb…” she gasped, “then this will be a very temporary escape.”

At that Glori couldn’t help but lean over the edge to take a look.  A second shambler had joined the first, but both were just standing there.  The other two had slowed in their approach.

“I think we’re okay,” she said.  “They’re not doing anything.  But we shouldn’t stay here, just in case.”

“What about that caster?” Kosk asked.

They all looked around, but there was no sign of the robed figure.  The ground ahead of them sloped up slightly until the forest resumed with the same dense landscape of the Reserve with which they were familiar.  That expanse could have held anything, but at the moment it was preferable to what lay behind them.

“Is everyone all right?” Shreskra asked.  They had all gotten away with only scrapes and bruises, and after scraping away as much of the clinging mud and muck that they could, they stumbled to their feet and continued their march forward.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 205

They finally came to another outpost.  This one they found by happenstance, since Brightbriar had become almost completely uncommunicative.  The Tender followed where the others led but offered no further suggestions even when pressed.  This time there was no doubt but that the place had been long, long abandoned.  Little remained but a stone foundation and the remnants of the walls, all of it overgrown with dense vegetation.  But even in ruins it was better shelter than they’d found that day.

It was still several hours short of sunset, but one by one the companions shuffled inside and collapsed in exhaustion.  None of them were sure exactly how many miles they had covered since their escape from the shambling mounds.  Even the Rangers’ minds were hazed from weariness.  For long minutes they all just sat there, slumped against the broken walls, trying to catch their breaths.

After a time, prudence and other needs reasserted themselves.  The Rangers went out to scout the area, find fresh water, and collect dead wood for their fire.  There was no question about that last; they all desperately needed warmth both upon and inside their bodies.  Stores were broken out and tallied.  Even with spoilage from the repeated dousings in the swamp they still had enough foodstuffs for several days at least.  Long enough to reach the Green Tower and the Druid, if the Tender’s words before had been accurate.

For a while the companions focused mechanically upon the preparation of their camp, but with the fire burning and the hearty smells of their evening meal filling the space they all began to recover somewhat. They waited until they had all had at least something hot to eat.  They were all still exhausted, but enough strength had flowed back into them to allow them to confront what had happened to them earlier.

“We need to talk about what happened, and what we’re going to do,” Glori finally said.

“Let’s begin with who that guy in black was,” Kosk said.  “He seemed to know an awful lot about us.”

“He sounded like he was insane,” Shreskra said.  “Talking about us corrupting the Reserve.”

“There was more than that,” Majerion said.  “He said that we would not be permitted to recover ‘it’.”

Glori glanced over at Kosk and Embrae.  They had kept the detail of the Shattered Key close, but it had certainly occurred to them that it was that the black-cloaked figure had been talking about.  “We need to get to the Druid, if we’re to help Ambassador Javerin,” she said.

Majerion’s look suggested that he knew there was more to it than that, but he said nothing more.

Shreskra’s gaze traveled between them.  “I’ve already lost one of my people,” she said.  “I don’t want to lose any more.  It seems clear that this Tender, or whoever he was, is able to mobilize the power of the Reserve against us.”

“What makes you think he was a Tender?” Glori asked.

“What else would he be?” the Ranger replied.  “Those two we fought at the outpost were Tenders, or at least they looked like them.”

“You froze back there,” Kosk said.

The dwarf’s quiet words provoked a response from Loriellan.  The elf started to rise angrily, but paused when Shreskra placed a hand on his arm.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

“When the guy in the cloak appeared, Darethan had a shot.  You froze.”

“We didn’t know that he was an adversary.  What if he’d been the Druid, or a Tender who was still… normal?”

“Even after he revealed his intent, it was Majerion who urged him to fire,” Kosk said.

“I have never seen Darethan miss a shot at that range,” Loriellan said.  “The cloaked man was obviously protected by some kind of magic.  I am told that the druidic arts include spells that can turn away arrows.”

Kosk opened his mouth to say something, but Shreskra angrily interrupted before he could speak.  “Before you impugn myself or my Rangers, you should remember that one of us has already been sacrificed to keep you safe.  If you want to make accusations, why not pick him?” she said, gesturing at Brightbriar.  The Tender had not looked up since they’d stopped, and he seemed to hunch in on himself as the attention of the camp shifted to him.  “He is the only one who has been this far into the Reserve.  Or him?” she added, jerking a thumb at Majerion.  “He almost got all of us killed with his reckless plan.”

“His magic allowed us to escape,” Embrae said.

“No one is accusing anyone,” Glori said.  “But it’s clear that someone or something is actively working to keep us from reaching the Druid.  The man in the black cloak…”

“Jakan,” Brightbriar said quietly.

They all turned to him again.  “What did you say, Tender?” Glori prodded.

His head came up slowly, and they could see that his eyes were sunken and red.  “Jakan.  It was Jakan.  I recognized his voice.  It was him.”

“Was he a Tender?” Kosk asked.  “I thought they all had forest names or somesuch.”

“He was the Barksinger,” Brightbriar said.  “But he always remained Jakan, even to us.”

“Who is he?” Glori asked.

“He was a rising star when I retired from the Tenders,” Brightbriar said.  “He was an important man before, and he gave up considerable wealth and influence to join us.  It was impossible to forget who he had been, such was the force of his personality.  There were many, myself included, who were certain that he would be the next Druid.  We were surprised when Celestron was given the post over him.  There were some who said that he had too much ambition for a job that required so much self-sacrifice… but he served as a loyal and effective second.  I had not seen him for… five years?  Before today.”

“So you don’t know what happened to him?” Embrae asked.

Brightbriar shook his head.  “What he said… what he did today… is he mad?  That is the only explanation I can think of.”

“It’s possible that something happened to him,” Glori said.  “Altered him, like it altered those Tenders we fought.”

“I don’t know… what could do that?” the Tender asked.

“None of us know the answer to that yet, but it seems pretty clear that this Jakan is a big part of it,” Glori said.  “He seemed more… more aware, more himself than those other two we fought.”

“This power is not like anything known to elvish lore,” Majerion said.

“We already knew that much from what happened to Javerin,” Kosk said.

“We have to stop him,” Brightbriar said.  “Whatever it is… whatever’s happening here… it’s wrong.”

“Our mission is to get to the Green Tower and find the Druid,” Glori said.  “I have a feeling that whatever is happening here, the answers will be found there as well.”

“If there are answers to be found,” Shreskra said.

“Tender,” Glori said.  “Brightbriar?”  When he looked up again she asked, “Will we reach the Green Tower tomorrow?”

He nodded.  “Yes… yes.  From here, yes.”

“I suggest that we stay close, and do not wander off alone at any time between now and then,” Glori said.

“A reasonable precaution,” Shreskra said.

“Indeed, we can watch out for each other… and watch each other,” Majerion said.

“What do you mean by that?” the Ranger leader asked.

“I thought it was clear from our earlier… discussion,” Majerion said.  “One or more of us may not be trustworthy.”

“What are you saying?” Loriellan said.  “That there’s a traitor among us?”

“That’s is one possible explanation for our experience since entering the Reserve,” Majerion explained.  “Consider: our enemy has been one step ahead of us every step of the way, with repeated ambushes.  Jakan’s soliloquy is another piece of evidence that supports this theory.”

“Or the explanation could be entirely external, and your words are only going to turn us against each other,” Embrae said.

“I acknowledge the possibility,” Majerion said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Glori said.  “Our only way out of here is together.  If there is someone working against us, then we will deal with them.”

“We all need rest,” Kosk said, standing up.  “I will take first watch, with Darethan.  Then Embrae and Loriellan, Glori and Tenaille, and Majerion and Shreskra.”

Loriellan turned to Shreskra.  “Very well,” the Ranger leader said.  “I will notify my people.”  She rose stiffly and made her way to the exit.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 206

As Bredan rushed into the entry of the Temple of Hosrenu he stopped in surprise and dismay at what he found.

The large double doors that led into the temple had been blasted off their hinges, one of the great panels reduced almost to kindling.  Dwarves were still clearing away a barricade of stone pews and other detritus that had been stacked in front of them.  All of it—broken doors, pews, even the nearby walls—were splashed liberally with blood and gore, and a fearsome stench of death hung thick in the air.

“Bloody hells,” Xeeta said from behind him.

Dwarves were visible all over the room, most of them armed and armored.  Some of them noticed the pair standing in the doorway and came over to block them, but then Darik arrived and at a gesture from him the guards let them past.  Bredan barely noticed, moving forward into the room with Xeeta in his shadow.

The center of the temple was a cluttered, almost impassible muddle, so they circled around the edge of the nave to the sanctuary at the far side.  Bredan could see that there was a large hole in the center of the floor, surrounded by more bloodstained pews.  Extensive scorch marks suggested that fires had ravaged the place not long ago, and smoke and soot still hung thick in the air.

It was fortunate that the dwarves relied on stone rather than wood in their construction, Bredan thought.

The destruction on the far side of the chamber was even worse.  At least a dozen dead trolls had been arranged in a line off to the side, the corpses leaving bloody trails across the floor.  Bredan and Xeeta followed those to the doorway that led to the high priest’s chambers.  The sanctuary had suffered damage, and somehow even the massive altar stone had been toppled and shattered, but that was nothing compared to what they saw when they got to the doorway.

The doors to the temple had been shattered, but the one here had been eviscerated; even the spots in the threshold where the hinges had been attached had been gouged out of the stone.  The entire entry was scorched black and further caked in seared ichor.  About five paces to the left of the gaping doorway there was another opening, a five-foot circle that had somehow been carved into the rock.  Another troll lay dead in that breach, its skull caved in on one side.

Bredan hurried through the doorway, stepping over several thick puddles of gore that made the stone slick.  Most of the blood trails from the bodies outside ended here.  But not all of them; there were several more corpses strewn about the inner chamber as well.  The destruction here had been more selective.  Rich furnishings, decorative tapestries, and fully-populated bookshelves circled the room; some fully intact, some tainted by just a few drops of blood, and others transformed into blackened wrecks.

Bredan’s eyes were drawn to a figure covered in pale cloth, spread out on the floor opposite the entry.  Blood had already soaked through the covering.  When he saw a heavy mace lying on the floor beside the fallen figure he felt a sharp pang before he realized that the corpse was too small to be his friend.

“Bredan?”

The voice drew his attention to the corner of the room, where he was relieved to see Quellan.  The half-orc was slumped in an armchair.  A dwarf medic was helping him out of the remnants of his armor.  Most of it was already lying on the floor, covered with blood.

“Quellan!” Xeeta exclaimed, rushing over to him.  “Are you all right?”

The cleric nodded, though it was clear that he was anything but.  “I’m okay,” he said.  “They gave me a potion.  My reservoir is completely drained.”  His eyes shifted over to the covered body.  “Akhenon saved me,” he said.  “He held them off.  He sacrificed himself.  I’d never seen anything like it before.”

“We saw them, the cavern they were using as a base for digging that shaft,” Bredan said.  “Xeeta believes that they were using some kind of magic to transform the rock.”

“Yes… we had a run-in with the wizard,” Quellan said.  “He escaped…”

“We tried to get back, to warn you, but they saw us and gave chase.  Koron… he held them off while we ran.  We barely got away.  If only we’d been faster…”

With an obvious grimace of pain Quellan reached up and grasped Bredan’s hand.  “If you hadn’t distracted them, then they might have gotten past us,” he said.  “You were in time, the reinforcements got here before they could get to…  Ah, thank you,” he said as the medic pulled away the last of the heavy plate.  The armor would need major repairs before it could be worn again.  There were more wounds underneath, and fresh blood continued to seep into the fabric of the chair as the half-orc settled back.

“You should go to the infirmary, sir,” the dwarf said.

“I will.  I am just going to rest here for a moment.  There are other wounded, see to them, please.”

The dwarf glanced up at Bredan then nodded.  He picked up his medical bag and headed back into the outer temple.

“What did they want here?” Xeeta asked once he was gone.

They were alone for the moment, but Quellan still leaned in close.  “The key,” he said.  “It’s here.  Other treasures as well, but I’m almost certain that they were after the key.”

“But they didn’t get it,” Bredan said.

“No.  They didn’t get a chance.  There’s a vault behind that wall.”  He let out a grim chuckle.  “Hopefully there are others besides Akhenon who know how to open it.”

“They got very close, then,” Xeeta said.

“How did they know?” Bredan asked.  “That it was here, I mean.”

Quellan considered a moment before responding.  “This enemy,” he said.  “It was more than just trolls and giants.  I did not see what race the spellcaster was, but it wasn’t one of them.”

“So it’s like the Silverpeak, then,” Bredan said.  “Someone else pulling the strings.”

“That would be my guess,” Quellan said.

“I’m worried about Glori,” Bredan said.

“I am too.”  For a moment his eyes seemed distant, but then he focused back on Bredan.  “You’re injured as well.”

“Just a few scratches.  You know me, always getting my ass kicked.”

“This time I think I have you beat,” Quellan said.

“Company,” Xeeta said.  Bredan turned just as Dergan came into the room.  The dwarf acknowledged them with a nod then went over to the shrouded form.  He knelt beside the fallen priest with a look of sadness on his face, then came over to the three companions.

“The enemy has retreated, for now,” the dwarf said.  “The price was high, very high indeed.  But it seems we are in your debt once more.”

“You said before that we needed to know what you face,” Bredan said.  “Now you know what we face, all of us, together.  This enemy will stop at nothing to block us.  We can help you… but you need to trust us.”

The dwarf nodded.  “I will speak to the Council.”

“I think I would like to go to the infirmary now,” Quellan said.  “If you promise to accompany me, Bredan.”

“I will order a stretcher brought,” Dergan began, but the half-orc shook his head.  He accepted Bredan’s hand, then pulled himself up.  “I can walk.”  Leaning on his friend, with Xeeta leading the way for them, the battered cleric made his way across the room.  He paused only to offer a final bow of respect to Akhenon, then left the ruined temple.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 208 has the better cliffhanger, so I'm going to double-post today. Happy Friday!

* * * 

Chapter 207

They reached the Green Tower around mid-afternoon the next day.

The forest thickened as they got further from the marsh, but the undergrowth receded and they were able to make good time.  The ground rose slowly, enough to be noticeable but not enough to slow their progress.

At first, they were just relieved to be clear of the swamp, but as the day progressed they became gradually aware that something was wrong.  They all remained alert for any sign of the fallen Tender and his minions, so it took them a while to notice the signs.  It was subtle at first, a hint of decay in the air, a slight chill on the breeze, a thickening of the carpet of rotting leaves at their feet.  Finally, one of the Rangers stopped, a look of confusion on his face.

“It feels like the seasons are changing before our eyes,” Darethan said.

Once it was pointed out they could all see it.  The forest had been enjoying a late summer splendor when they had entered the Reserve, but here, approaching its core, it felt more like autumn giving way to winter.

The shift continued as they resumed their march.  They passed trees that were dying from some sort of blight, a few scattered examples at first, with more appearing as they continued their climb.  The ones that had succumbed to the rot were covered in shifting carpets of ugly black beetles the size of Kosk’s fist.  The insects were harmless, but they gave off the putrid scent of rotting corpses when they were crushed, so the companions quickly learned to give those sites a wide berth.

Finally, the forest began to thin again ahead.  The travelers readied their weapons, wary of another ambush, but this time all that they saw was their destination.

The ascending terrain culminated in a broad, flat hilltop maybe half a mile ahead of them.  Rising from that crest, dominating the horizon, was a ring of ancient and massive trees.  These trees made the giants where they had confronted the owlbears seem like saplings by contrast.  The smallest of them had to be two hundred feet tall, but even those were thicker around at the base than a generous farmer’s cottage.  Their trunks were a deep reddish-brown, but they were wreathed by lower branches that surrounded them with sprays of green that thickened until they meshed into a single vast canopy.

“The Green Tower, indeed,” Majerion commented.

“It’s wondrous,” Embrae said, her eyes gleaming.

“I’d be happier if we didn’t know that our friend the cloaked bastard wasn’t in there waiting for us,” Kosk said.

“Brightbriar, the Druid’s residence in the center of the grove, right?” Glori asked.  “Brightbriar?”

The Tender had been staring intently at the hilltop, but jumped when Loriellan poked him in the shoulder.  “The center, yes,” he said.

“We stay together from here on out,” Glori reminded them.  She looked over at Shreskra to see if the Ranger leader would challenge her, but the woman looked almost as distracted as the Tender.

The ascent up the hill was not difficult, but they were careful in their approach.  Each of them could feel the pressure of unseen eyes monitoring their progress.  They lingered for a few moments as they reached the crest, right at the dividing line where the last rays of bright afternoon sunlight gave way to the shadowed gloom of the trees.  Standing there at the base the ancient trunks seemed even more massive then they had at a distance.  There was scattered growth between them, but nothing that would stop them from moving forward into the grove.  None of them said anything, they just enjoyed that radiant warmth while they shared a common anticipation.  They all knew that their destination, the goal that had sought from the moment they had set out from Tal Nadesh, lay directly ahead.

Then they moved forward, into the gap between two of the giant trees.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 208

The interior of the grove was quiet, almost hushed.  Even the cold breeze didn’t seem to penetrate into the space between the giant trees.  In fact, it was noticeably warmer, despite the lack of light.  The interlaced canopy was so dense that the forest floor was wreathed in a perpetual twilight.

The ground was covered with a dense layer of decaying matter.  It was slippery, and even the Rangers had to tread carefully to avoid a spill.  Tenaille paused and drew a knife that she used to prod the ground.  What came up was a thick mass of rotting vegetation that had the color and consistency of pitch.  With disgust she cleaned her blade and moved to rejoin the others.

A trail of sorts led deeper into the grove.  There were plants here, growing somehow despite the dearth of light.  The trees were stunted and bent, the bushes covered in thorns that seemed to reach eagerly for the travelers as they passed.  Glori softly strummed her lyre, summoning a string of _dancing lights_ that added some brightness to the deep gloom.  Their pale glow cast the surrounding growth into sharp relief, and only added to the impression that they were passing through some fey shadow-realm, with malevolent things waiting just beyond the edges of the light.  Shreskra shot Glori an alarmed look when the lights appeared, but again she let it drop, perhaps recognizing that it was almost impossible that their adversary did not already know that they were coming.

The lights revealed a thicket up ahead, a massive wall of tangled growth.  The thicket rose to almost twenty feet high, woven around the twisted trunks of trees to form a cohesive barrier.  There were thorns, of course, but these were truly nasty, hooked blades like daggers with tiny glistening drops of something foul dangling from their tips.  They did not need to ask Brightbriar to know that they did not want to come anywhere near those vicious points.

The trail led right up to the edge of the thicket.  It was not until they were almost on top of it that they could see that there was a path that led through the barrier into the interior.  The corridor was narrow, wide enough for only one of them to venture through at a time, but as the lights drifted forward at Glori’s command they could see that it led to another open space on the far side.

The passage through the thicket was nerve-wracking.  The opening was wide enough that there was never any real threat from the sharp thorns, but close enough that they had to be constantly vigilant.  The Rangers led the way, followed by the bards and the Tender, and then finally the two monks who brought up the rear.

None of them were particularly shocked with the passage closed behind them, sealing them in.

They found themselves in a dim area dominated by a single huge tree.  This one was only a fraction of the height of the giants that had surrounded the hilltop, but it more than made up for it in sheer breadth.  Its branches held no leaves, but they still managed to form a dense, overlapping canopy that extended over the entire space encircled by the thicket wall.  The tree itself was black, and exposed roots projected up around its base, forming a warren of nooks and niches.  Some of those spaces had been covered with drapes of canvas, turning them into small chambers, but they could not see anything stirring within.

“This way,” Brightbriar said, drawing them around the perimeter to the far side of the tree.

The others followed him, and as they circled around the massive trunk a disturbing tableau came into view.  This side of the tree appeared to be diseased, with a massive, pulpy mass of ochre putrescence clinging to the gnarled bark.  The stuff rose from the base of the tree almost up to the spreading branches.  There were four smaller trees in front of the sickened ancient, stunted versions of the mother tree, their branches bent and sagging as if they were wracked by heavy pains.

“This is not going to be good,” Majerion said.

“What… what is this?” Tenaille asked.

None of them had any answers, but a voice sounded from the shadows that clung thick around the base of the tree.  “Purity,” it said.

Strumming her lyre, Glori sent her _dancing lights_ forward to illuminate the scene.

The shimmering witch-lights revealed that they were not alone.  Standing next to each of the smaller trees was one of the altered Tenders.  These seemed even worse off than the pair they had encountered earlier at the outpost.  Their robes hung about them in shredded rags, allowing them to clearly see the growths that sprouted from their flesh.  Their fingernails, cracked and filthy and long like claws, gently caressed the bark of their trees.  The last of them seemed somewhat different than the others, but it wasn’t until one of Glori’s lights swung around to shine directly on its face that they could see why.

Loriellan let out a strangled cry.  “Razelle!”

But before any of them could react to that horror, the _lights_ revealed something else.  As the darkness withdrew they could see that there was _something_ embedded within the noxious foulness that coated the side of the tree.  No, not _something_, but _someone_, a bulge that was barely recognizable as human.  They each had suspicions about the identity of that imprisoned form, but Brightbriar confirmed it as he slumped to his knees and moaned, “Celestron.”

They had expected to confront their enemy here, but these revelations had overpowered even their worst fears and left them stunned.  Thus they did not see the last figure until he stepped away from the tangle of roots near the base of the tree.  Glori’s fingers jerked over the strings of her lyre and the four globes of light swarmed in that direction.  They bracketed the figure, who was revealed to be the same cloaked form who had challenged them coming out of the swamp.  Any doubt as to whether it was the same person ended when he lifted a hand and addressed them.

“Your quest, it ends here,” Jakan said.


----------



## carborundum

Woah, they seem a bit outgunned here, to say the least! Ah well, it's all part of the circle of life.


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Woah, they seem a bit outgunned here, to say the least! Ah well, it's all part of the circle of life.



Oh, it's going to get worse before it gets better...

* * * 

Chapter 209

This time they didn’t hesitate.  Even as Jakan spoke, Darethan lifted his bow and launched an arrow at him.

Once again, the shot looked to be true, but a sudden, intense breeze swept through the grove.  It caught the arrow in mid-flight and lifted it into the air.  It thudded into one of the thick upper branches of tree.  The breeze faded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the interior of the grove almost preternaturally still once more.

But the lull lasted only an instant.  The tainted Tenders, including Razelle, each pressed a palm against the trunk of their companion trees.  The trees responded.  With a groaning sound of straining wood and collapsing sod they extracted themselves from the ground, dirt spraying around them as their trunks split apart to become awkward but functional legs.  They began to shuffle toward the intruders, their branches sweeping through the air in front of them.

Majerion played his lyre, the sharp notes filling the air of the grove.  Flames surged up from the loam, forming a _wall of fire_ that separated them from the advancing foes.  One of the awakened trees was engulfed by the flames, transforming it instantly into a blazing pyre.  The other three recoiled instinctively from the conflagration, lifting their branches in an almost human-like gesture.

“That won’t hold them for long,” Kosk said.

“I think I can get to the Druid,” Glori said.  “I’m not sure what I can do to help him, or even if he’s still alive, but…”

“Go,” Kosk said.  “We’ll keep them busy.”

Glori nodded and strummed her lyre.  Her _dancing lights_ faded as she summoned a shroud of _invisibility_.

The dwarf’s first statement was proven true as a wave of arcane power surged through the grove.  Majerion’s magical flames wavered and then faded, leaving behind just a few scattered wisps of smoke that quickly dispersed.  The burning tree remained as a giant torch, illuminating the scene.  The other three, accompanied by the four Tenders, surged forward to attack.

Loriellan had drawn his sword, but as he took a step he staggered and almost stumbled.  Tendrils of fresh growth had sprouted from the ground and wove around his boots.  He was able to tear himself clear before more of the probing vines could seize hold of him.

“Ware the ground!” he warned.

“Let them come to us!” Kosk yelled.

“Wait, where’s the Tender?” Embrae said.

Kosk looked around, and saw that in the confusion both Brightbriar and Shreskra had vanished.  But there was no time to look for either of them before the awakened trees and their terrible companions attacked.

Loriellan had won clear from the entangling vines that continued to sprout from the packed earth of the grove around them, but he was out of position as one of the trees lurched toward him.  He ducked as the branches swept toward his face.  He felt sharp pains as it scratched his flesh but it narrowly missed taking out an eye.  He swung his sword at its trunk but only managed to carve away a fist-sized chunk of bark.

Tenaille launched herself at the tree from behind, trying to distract it from her companion.  Her long knives tore at its exposed roots, hacking away several long stalks that caused it to list noticeably as it twisted around.  She got clear before it could unleash another attack, but before she could come at it again she heard a soft, raspy voice from behind her.

“Tenaille.”

She turned to see Razelle standing there.  The sight of her former companion, her chin and jowls covered with a slight fuzz of green, her eyes vacant, awakened a sudden terror in the veteran Ranger.  Her knives hung limp in her hands as the other took a tentative step forward.

“Razelle?”

The only answer she got was a sweeping blow that caught her solidly in the chest and knocked her off her feet.

Embrae focused her _ki_ as the remaining two trees thudded toward her and Kosk.  A ball of light began to materialize within her grasp that she shaped with her open palms.  The dwarf, seeing what she was doing, held back as the trees came close enough to attack.  Even as they began to sweep their long branches around the elf woman unleashed her gathered power into a spray of white-hot flames.  The fire engulfed both trees and drove them back, but even as Embrae recovered a slight figure leapt forward and landed lightly in front of her.  The altered Tender smacked her hard across the face and she stumbled backwards.  It stepped forward to finish her off, but before it could strike again Kosk barreled into it from the side.  He swung his staff between its legs and used its leverage to flip the Tender onto its back.  The thing recovered quickly, but the two monks were able to use the distraction to get clear.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“Do you know the Rock and Hammer technique?”

“I know that it’s hard on the rock,” she said.

“Just be ready with that hammer,” he returned.  They barely had time to get into position before their foes attacked again.

The Rangers were being driven back, harried both by the awakened tree and the thing that had been Razelle.  Two more of the altered Tenders moved to flank them, but before they could get close enough to attack Majerion stepped forward to intercept them.  He strummed a whirling melody on his lyre, and as the two Tenders turned a sudden breeze surged past him, accelerating into a violent gale that caught up both of the creatures and lifted them into the air.  They flipped end over end before crashing to the ground a few paces back.  But an experience that would have left a normal man groaning with broken bones barely seemed to faze the two creatures, and they quickly shot back to their feet and charged at the elf.  This time the _wind wall_ barely affected them as they passed through it.

“It is possible that I did not fully think this through,” the bard said to himself as he retreated.

Brightbriar sobbed as he staggered against the reassuring bulk of one of the Elden Tree’s thick roots.  What had been done to the sacred tree… it was an abomination, even before he’d seen the trapped figure of Celestron embedded in the vile oozing filth that now encrusted the tree.

He slowly pushed himself back up.  The tree was sick.  And the darkness that had taken root here would spread to all of the Reserve, if it wasn’t stopped.

“What are you doing here?”

Brightbriar turned to see Shreskra standing a few paces behind him.  She had her sword drawn.  He could hear the sounds of battle on the far side of the raised root-bank and wondered why she had followed him.

“I have to help Celestron,” he said.

When she didn’t move, he looked up and met her eyes.  What he saw there almost knocked him down again.  “It was you,” he said.  “You… why?”

“You should know better than most,” she said.  “You know how important it is to keep this place pristine.  The Council that let these outsiders come in here… they do not care about preserving the heritage of our people.”

In his panic Brightbriar could think of nothing to say in response.  Instead he turned and tried to run.  He didn’t hear any pursuit before something hard slammed into him from behind, driving him back into the solidity of the bank.  He felt pain explode in his back and looked down to see bright red blood staining the dark roots.

Loriellan staggered backward, fighting the thin strands of green that were still trying to trip him up with each step.  His right arm hung limp at his side, the shoulder dislocated, and he’d switched his sword to his left.  He looked up to see that Darethan had gotten Tenaille back on her feet, though the awakened tree was still coming after them.

The scout turned back to Razelle, who did not seem to be badly hurt despite the arrow jutting from her shoulder and the gaping slash that Loriellan had torn in her side.

“Razelle, if you’re in there, don’t do this!” he urged.  “Fight it!”

But her only response was another lunging attack.  Loriellan tried to dodge, but his wounds had slowed him too much.  Razelle’s fist smashed into his gut with enough force to lift him off the ground.  He fell to the ground, gasping for air.  The twining vines snarled around his legs and arms but he was too weak to fight them.  He couldn’t even look up as he saw the familiar boots step up next to him.

Majerion nearly fell into the thorn wall as one of the Tenders grabbed hold of his cloak and yanked him off-balance.  He managed to spin out of the garment before it snagged him in a choke-hold.  He twisted away only to find the other Tender blocking his escape.

The bard played a quick melody on his lyre and abruptly vanished.

Kosk and Embrae moved together in a complex ballet of shifting bodies and evaded blows.  The dwarf was at the forefront, ducking and dodging and occasionally sweeping out his staff to block an adversary trying to get past him.  Even though he seemed to be untouched by the two awakened trees and the tainted Tender, that was just an illusion; his robe was quickly torn in multiple places and stained with blood.

Embrae in turn seemed to be everywhere at once, unleashing pulses of positive energy at their foes, in some cases passing so close to Kosk that it almost looked as though she’d been targeting the dwarf.

Still it looked as though even the adept monks would have to give way before the assault.  The ground was becoming increasingly churned under the monstrous strides of the awakened trees, and fresh tendrils continued to poke up from the furrows, seeking a foot to snare.

Finally, all three creatures surged forward together, seeking to overwhelm the two defenders through sheer raw momentum.  The monks immediately darted to the side, but Kosk’s foot caught briefly and he stumbled.  The first tree slammed a branch down at his head, but was hit by a _radiant sun bolt_ that pierced its trunk and knocked it off-step.  The other one immediately pushed past it, while the altered Tender rushed around toward his flank.  For a moment it looked like Kosk would go down, but it turned out to be a feint; as the Tender reached for him he pivoted and knocked it off balance, thrusting the creature directly into the path of the tree.  The two collided, the Tender getting tangled in the tree’s roots.  The tree shook the smaller form free, stomping it a few times for good measure.  The thing that resided in the body of the Tender wasn’t seriously damaged, but the delay gave the two monks ample time to get clear.  Kosk shot Embrae a quick grin as they left their foes jumbled and confused behind them.

But then, without any warning, the ground suddenly erupted beneath their feet.  Rocks drove up out of the ground, flinging the pair apart and showering them with a patter of stones.  The two landed hard, now separated as their three foes rushed at them once more.

Glori tried not to let the sounds of battle distract her as she made her way to the black tree.  She knew that her friends were outnumbered, but also knew that she had to trust them to hold long enough for her to get to the imprisoned Druid.  She didn’t know that Celestron was even alive, but if there was a chance that he could be freed from whatever dark thing Jakan had summoned then Glori would have to take that chance.

She’d had to circle wide around to avoid the charge of the Druid’s minions, but once she was in the cover of the wide fan of exposed roots she felt more secure.  Now that she was closer she could see that the material that coated the tree looked like some sort of fungal growth.  It seemed to have taken root in the substance of the tree itself.  Celestron was about fifteen feet up, out of reach unless Glori wanted to venture a climb.  But that would require her to come into contact with the substance, which she wanted to avoid.

“Celestron,” she hissed softly.  The sounds of ongoing battle made for a noisy backdrop, but she was reluctant to be any louder than she had to, _invisibility_ or no.  But she quickly realized that she had no choice but to take a greater risk.

She took hold of her lyre and began to play.  She spoke again to the trapped druid, infusing her words with magic.  She became visible as her concentration shifted to this new working, but she remained close to the mass of the tree, trying to use it for camouflage.

“Celestron,” she sang.  “Druid, if you can hear me, you have to fight it.  There is a corruption in your grove, you have to resist it.”

For a moment it looked as if her efforts had been in vain, but then the entombed figure seemed to twitch slightly.  It wasn’t much of a sign, and it looked as if the Druid wasn’t going to be able to get free without help, but at least it offered hope that it wasn’t too late.

But as Glori reached for her sword, a fibrous strand of root twisted around her left leg, pinning it in place.  She tried to draw the blade, but before she could get it clear of its scabbard several more tendrils lashed out and pinned her arms to her sides, dragging her up against the rigid solidity of the tree.

“Well now,” came a familiar voice.  Glori could barely twist her head around, but it was enough to see the dark shadow of Jakan striding toward her.  With a violent motion she tore her arm free and strummed a discordant tune on her lyre.  She concentrated all of her rage and terror into an intense pulse of magical fear that seemed to waver in the air as she directed it at the rogue druid.

But Jakan barely twitched.  His response was a raised hand and a grim chuckle.  Glori barely had time to tense before a surge of utter agony washed over her.  It felt as though every nerve in her body was trying to tear itself free.  Drops of liquid sprouted all over her body, soaking into her clothes or spattering onto the tree.  For a moment she thought it was blood, but then realized it was water, extracted by force from her body by the druid’s magic.  She almost thought she could feel her flesh shriveling, and a dark blackness began to swell in her awareness as Jakan slowly approached her, laughter continuing to issue from within the shadows of his cowl.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 210

Majerion was finding that even _greater invisibility_ was not enough to let him escape his foes.  The two altered Tenders continued to press him no matter how much he tried to escape.  Either they could somehow sense him through the cloak provided by his spell, or they were able to track the soft sounds of his boots or the subtle indents they made on the turf.

Either way, he was barely keeping ahead of them.  His rapier had gotten stuck in the body of the first, torn from his grasp.  If the thing was hindered by having a three-foot shaft of steel jutting from its body, it didn’t give any sign of it.  With the need to concentrate on his spell he couldn’t work any major magics, not that his efforts had proven very effective thus far.  He was aware of the fighting to either side of him, but it didn’t look like any of his companions were in any shape to help him.

As a last desperate move, he spun and broke toward the base of the tree, seeking the cover of the root structures there.  He almost got clear, but a loud eruption of earth to his right startled him.  A piece of rock caromed off his head, and he fell to the ground.  He recoiled in revulsion at the sight of the tiny shoots of green trying to twist around his fingers.

Wait.  Fingers.  He was no longer…

That was all the thought he managed to put together before a green boot slammed into his face.

Shreskra moved slowly, caught in a daze as she emerged from the densely woven roots of the Elden Tree.  She looked down at her hands.  They were covered in bright red blood.  More blood slicked the length of her sword.  The weapon was called _Starsteel_, and it had been passed down in her family for ten generations.

Now it was covered with the blood of the elf that she had just murdered.

A sound drew her head up, and she was jolted back into full awareness by what she saw in front of her.  A desperate battle filled the druid’s grove.  She could see the outsiders engaged in battle some distance away, but her attention was drawn to what was happening not ten paces distant.

Loriellan was down, the corrupted form of Razelle standing above him.  Tenaille was also down, but Darethan was standing over her, protecting her from the awakened tree that was trying to crush both of them.  Even as she watched the elf swung his dagger at the monstrous thing’s trunk, inflicting little damage.  The tree in turn slashed out at Darethan, delivering a solid blow that drove him to the ground, almost on top of his fallen companion.

The tree reared up, a foot made up of tangled roots poised to crush both of them.

Shreskra could not remember moving, or even deciding to move, but suddenly she was there, _Starsteel_ sweeping up to meet the descending limb.  The blade carved though roots and trunk alike, shearing off a large segment of the tree’s substance.  It stumbled to the side, off-balance, but quickly recovered and slashed down at her with the same big branch that had felled Darethan.  She met that attack as well, nearly severing the thick branch with one massive blow.  The tree reared back but she pressed it, thrusting the point of her sword through a gap in the shell of bark into its body.  All that was in there was hard wood, but she felt something, a brief tremor that shot up the length of the blade and through her body.  The tree fell over onto its back and ceased moving.

Shreskra looked over to see that the Razelle-creature was straddling Loriellan, the elf’s throat clutched in its grasp.  She could clearly see hints of movement as the growths that sprouted from its hands burrowed into his flesh.  He was unconscious, perhaps dying, but his body twitched as those tendrils worked their way deeper into his body.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said.  She brought her sword up.  “Release him.”

The blank eyes met hers for a long moment, and then the creature that had been a Ranger dropped Loriellan and started toward her.

Majerion barely clung to consciousness.  He was dimly aware of something standing over him, and he wondered why he wasn’t yet dead.  There were noises nearby, voices, maybe, but he couldn’t make them out through the fog that hung over his senses.  His mouth felt numb and he idly wondered if he’d lost any teeth.

Then a hand reached down and pulled him to his feet.  He blinked and realized that it was Embrae.  The monk didn’t say anything, she just turned and fired a pulse of light from her hand that almost blinded the bard.  He swayed and somehow managed to stay upright.

When he could see again the elf woman was gone, replaced by the dwarf.  He looked a sight, his robe shredded and bloody, one side of his face smeared with blood from a gash that had been torn open just above his left eye.  He pushed something into Majerion’s hands.  Even in his current state he recognized it at once: it was his lyre.

“You’re going to have to take care of yourself!” the dwarf shouted at him.  “We’re bloody busy!”  Without waiting for a response, he spun into a kick that drove back a Tender whose outstretched fingers had nearly closed on the bard’s throat.

Majerion’s hands instinctively found the proper places, and he began to play.

A massive blast of sound shook the grove.  The canopy of the great tree shuddered as the _thunderwave_ reverberated off the massive trunk.  A portion of the sickly growth that covered the lower part of the tree had sloughed away, forming a noisome heap of matter at its base.  But the part that held the Druid remained intact above.

Glori tore herself from the roots that held her and turned to face Jakan.  The rogue druid had been knocked back by the pulse from her spell, but he did not look to be seriously hurt.  His cloak fell away as he straightened, revealing thin, almost gaunt features.  His skin was as pale as fresh milk, matched by hair that almost looked like spun silver.  But there was a fire burning in his eyes, an intensity that Glori immediately recognized as a blend of inspiration and madness.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of something else: a familiar figure that had crawled up out of the tangle of roots on the other side of the tainted streak.  She could see that he’d left a trail of blood behind him.  But she couldn’t look that way without giving him away to Jakan.

“We’re here to put an end to your plans,” she said, stepping forward to face the pale elf, drawing his attention to her.

“Foolish half-breed child,” Jakan hissed.  “Soon your friends will join the guardians of this grove.”  He made a broad gesture behind him, but all Glori could see was that the battle was still going on.  She thought she heard Kosk’s voice, but it was overpowered by the stomp of the awakened trees and the loud swish of branches being swept back and forth.  “You, I may keep alive for a time.  He will be interested in you, I think.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked.  “Someone else pulling your strings, eh?” She knew she had to keep him busy, though the thought of her friends being killed while she stood here bantering with the elf almost drove her to a reckless attack.  But the druid’s spell had almost killed her, and she knew that she could not withstand another similar assault.

From the look on Jakan’s face, he knew it as well.  “The power you see here is mine,” he said.  “Soon all of the energy stored in the Reserve will belong to me, and then the fools in Tal Nadesh will bow to the true power within the elvish nation.”

“It all just comes down to power, doesn’t it,” she said.  She softly strummed her lyre as she spoke, a regular cadence that let her trickle healing energy into her stricken body.  She stepped away from the root mass, drawing his attention further away from the Tender who was still crawling slowly toward the base of the tree.

A soft creak was the only warning she got.  She dove forward just as a branch as thick around as her waist descended from the canopy, slamming into the ground where she’d been standing.  As it snapped back up twigs slashed at her face, adding fresh scratches to her tally but doing little real damage.  Had it connected, she’d be lying broken on the ground, she knew.

“Is that the best you can do?” she taunted.

Jakan laughed.  “No,” he said.  “No indeed.”

He extended his arms and Glori tensed again, expecting another spell attack.  But instead the slender elf’s form began to shift.  His arms thickened and grew longer, hair sprouting from the pale flesh.  His fingernails extended and became sharp points.  His back peaked as the curve in his spine grew more pronounced, and he gained several inches of height.  Worst of all was his face, which stretched out until the fearsome visage of a primal beast confronted her.

The transformation complete, the druid let out a sound that was half manic laugh, half wild growl, then he leapt to attack.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 211

As the transformed Jakan leapt at her, Glori summoned her magic once more.

Her head and body still throbbed from the aftereffects of the druid’s _blight_, and her storehouse of magic had already been heavily depleted, but she threw everything she had left into another _thunderwave_.  The sonic pulse smashed into the Jakan-creature, but this time instead of being driven back the altered druid pushed through it.  Glori brought her lyre up reflexively as he lashed out with his beast-claws.  The impact shattered one arm of the instrument and broke most of the strings.  Glori was driven back hard against the bole of the tree, her arm stinging where the sharp claws had gashed her.

Jakan landed where she’d been standing and let out a feral growl of triumph.  He started to step forward to finish her off, but suddenly flinched and let out a hiss of pain.

Glori turned her head to see that Brightbriar had somehow pulled himself up against the tree and had buried his arms into the mass of the ugly matter that coated the trunk.  The Tender was hurt worse than Glori had first thought; his entire body from the belly down was soaked with blood, and the trail he had left behind stretched all the way over to one of the root masses at least fifteen paces away.  She had no idea how he’d managed to come all that distance, or how he remained standing now.

Instinct had her looking up at the imprisoned form of Celestron.  Nothing had changed as far as she could see, but she felt _something_, a stirring in the subtle veins of power that suffused this place.

Whatever Brightbriar was doing, Jakan clearly didn’t like it.  He turned from Glori and started toward the dying Tender.  But he managed barely three steps before Glori rushed up and stabbed him.

The corrupt druid screamed in pain and slashed out violently at the bard.  But even as he started to turn he stumbled off-balance, and the claws passed harmlessly in front of Glori’s face.  She looked down to see that fresh stalks of green had twined around the druid’s feet.  For a moment a look of incredulity that looked strange on his altered features appeared on Jakan’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a visage of bestial fury.  He lifted a hand and unleashed a spray of flickering motes that glittered in the faint light as they surged toward Glori.  She recoiled instinctively from them, but there was nowhere she could go to escape the _poison spray_.

But in the instant before the druid’s attack struck, a sudden breeze brushed down from the canopy of the tree.  It caught the motes and dispersed them, then vanished as quickly as it had come.

Jakan snarled something incomprehensible, then turned back toward Brightbriar.  With an effort he tore himself free of the clinging growth and lurched forward again.

This time he made it only two steps before Glori stabbed him in the back again.

On the far side of the clearing Glori’s companions were completely unaware of the desperate struggle taking place at the tree, for they were still fighting for their lives.  One of the tainted Tenders had been destroyed, but the other two were still pressing Kosk, Embrae, and Majerion hard, and the last awakened tree continued to take violent, powerful swings with its branches.  All three of the defenders were seriously wounded, though Majerion was doing his best to channel healing spells into the monks.  There was no more option to retreat; the wall of thorns was at their backs, and their foes had spread out to block any more attempts to escape.

So, they fought, and took a beating.

His _ki_ drained, Kosk could no longer do anything but try to keep his adversary at bay.  One half of the Tender’s face was a scorched mess from one of Embrae’s radiant blasts, but the creature still seemed able to absorb an incredible amount of punishment.  Kosk had struck it with blows that would have broken multiple bones, had it been a normal man.  But the thing continued to fight with almost as much speed and power as it had possessed at the start of the fight.

Kosk could hear Majerion strumming his lyre furiously behind him, but he dared not let his guard down even for an instant to see what he was doing.  But suddenly the altered Tender just stopped, standing just out of reach.

A loud crash drew his attention over to his right.  The awakened tree had fallen over backwards, nearly taking out the Tender facing Embrae.  The creature was just standing there, much like the one opposite Kosk.  The elf monk looked about as battered as he felt, but she quickly met his eyes and nodded.

Both attacked simultaneously, Embrae firing a radiant blast into her foe’s face while Kosk swept the legs of his opponent out from under it and then followed with a strike to the neck.

Glori couldn’t quite see what was happening on the other side of the grove, but she could tell that the intensity of the fighting was easing off.  Hoping that it didn’t mean that her friends were all dead, she said, “Your grove is rejecting you, false druid.”

Jakan let out a feral screech and lunged again toward Brightbriar.  The Tender hadn’t moved since he’d first contacted the corrupted mass cloaking the tree, but now Glori could see a haze of green shoots sticking up out of its substance.  The gunk was starting to come apart at the edges, its outer layer cracking like shattered ice.

Glori tried to intercept the mad druid, but her battered body had taken too much punishment and her movements felt sluggish and awkward.  But even as Jakan came within reach of his target a thick root rose up out of the ground at the base of the tree and twined around his torso.  It lifted him off the ground as he swung in a wild fury, but his claws met only empty air.  He let out a gasp of pain as it tightened its grasp.

Jakan lifted his arms to the sky.  “Aid me, great spirit!” he cried.

But the only response came from Glori, who stepped into his line of sight and said, “You’re all out of help,” even as she drove the point of her sword into his throat.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 212

They were victorious, but the cost had been high.

Loriellan, Darethan, and Tenaille had been unconscious but alive, if barely in Loriellan’s case.  Their magic depleted, the bards had been forced to resort to bandages and herbs to stabilize the crippled Rangers until they could be treated with magical healing.

Shreskra, however, was beyond help.  They found her locked in a deadly embrace with the thing that had been Razelle, the Ranger leader’s sword buried in its torso.

Brightbriar, too, had been too far gone to save.  When Glori had finally gotten to him he’d been alive, but barely.  His hands were blackened wrecks where he had plunged them into the corruption covering the Eldan Tree, but there had been no regret on his face, and he’d even had a gentle smile on his face when he’d died.

They likewise found that Celestron was dead.  His body was shrunken and abused.  There was no evidence that he’d still been alive when they’d entered the grove, but Glori remembered the interventions in the last minutes of the battle against Jakan and the presence she’d felt.  She only hoped that the man had found some kind of peace in the end.

They had no choice but to remain in the grove.  The malevolent presence wrought by Jakan’s dark magic was gone, but the place still reeked of violence and death.  But the thicket blocked exit, and they were all too battered to do anything but collapse in exhaustion.  They finally carried the fallen Rangers to the shelter of one of the covered niches around the base of the tree.  There were blankets there, and even some packets of preserved food that they shared around.  The monks dug graves for their fallen.  The altered Tenders and Jakan they burned in a shallow pit.

None of them had escaped injury, but they remained too wary of this place and its ghosts to let them all rest without keeping watch.  Glori volunteered to take the first stint, and even Kosk was too battered to put up much of a protest.

They didn’t bother with a fire.  The black tree hadn’t caught with all of the flames they’d been flinging about during the fight and its aftermath, but now that the battle was over they didn’t want to take any chances.  The night was cool but not cold.  It felt somehow like the tree itself had trapped the warmth of the day, keeping the worst of the chill at bay.

Glori took up a position just outside of their shelter, with the reassuring solidity of one of the root-banks at her back.  She had brought the pieces of her lyre with her to attempt to fix with her _mending_ spell.  It was difficult to work the magic without the lyre to use as a focus, especially as exhausted as she was, but she bent her will to the task, humming softly to gather the power for the spell.

Her first few attempts were less than successful, but before she could try again Majerion came out of the shelter to join her.  The elf looked awful, with one entire side of his face covered with a deep purple bruise.  He walked with a noticeable limp and grimaced as he settled in beside her.

“You should get some rest,” she said.

“I intend to.  Having some trouble doing that without a focus?”

She didn’t bother to deny it; he had always known whenever she’d been having difficulty related to something he was trying to teach her.  Magic had been the hardest for her, which is why Majerion had eventually convinced her that the power lay in her instrument, and not herself.

He took out his lyre and handed it to her.  “Try this,” he said.

She took the golden instrument with care.  “This has potent magic,” she said.  “Unlike mine,” she couldn’t help but add.

“I told you what I thought you needed to hear, to get through your block,” he said.  “And it worked.”

_It almost got Bredan killed, that false belief,_ she almost said, but she ultimately let it go.  It wouldn’t accomplish anything to refight old battles, not on a night like this, she thought.

She strummed his lyre.  As always, it was in perfect tune.  The magic seemed almost eager to meet her call, and the broken pieces of her lyre knit together as she focused the energies of the spell upon it.

A soft melody accompanied her as she finished the working, and she looked over in surprise to see Majerion blowing softly on a set of wooden pipes.  As he finished he said, “Remember these?”

“I remember,” Glori said.  “I didn’t know you’d kept them.  I’m surprised you can keep them on key.”

“Every musician should keep a backup instrument,” the elf said.  He nodded toward Glori’s restored lyre.  “You never know when you’re going to break a string.”

She handed the golden lyre back to him.  He took it and propped it up against the root next to them.

“You did well today,” he finally said.  “We would not have survived if you hadn’t challenged the druid like that.”

She couldn’t speak, but nodded and looked away.  He didn’t press her, but put the hand-carved wooden pipes away.  “So, it turns out Shreskra was the traitor,” he said.  “I honestly thought it would be Brightbriar.”

“He sacrificed himself to save Celestron,” she said.  “He couldn’t save him in the end, but in breaking the spell over the grove he saved us.”

It hadn’t been obvious at first what had happened, but in the aftermath of the fight they were able to put the pieces together.  The blood on Shreskra’s hands and sword had been the final clue, as the tainted Tenders did not bleed.  With both her and Brightbriar dead they would never know for sure what exactly had happened between them, or why she had done what she had done.  But there was no doubt that she’d saved the lives of her Rangers.  It could not balance her murder of the Tender, or the aid she’d given Jakan, but maybe it would affect the final tally for wherever her soul ended up.

“Did you think it was me?” he asked.  “Maybe for a moment?”

“No,” she said.  “My feelings toward you are… complicated, but I never thought you were evil.”

“Most people who are evil do not see themselves in those terms,” he said.  “I am sure that Jakan thought that what he was doing was right.  Protecting the Reserve against those who would use it for their own ends, or something like that.”

“He was mad,” Glori said.  She thought back to his final cry for help.  It was unfortunate that no one who knew the truth of what had happened here at survived.  Nor had they found anything that could help Javerin.

She resisted the urge to reach up and touch her chest.  The key was there, dangling on a silver chain under her tunic.  It was the only thing they’d found on Jakan’s body.  It was made out of a pale gray metal that tended to absorb rather than reflect light.  She’d told Kosk that she had it, but hadn’t shared its existence with the others.

Majerion gave her a long look.  “So, what happens now?” he asked.

“We go back.  If Javerin’s still alive, we do what we can for her.  Maybe take her back to Severon, if the elves can’t help her.”

“And you and I?  Are we alright?”

She forced herself to look at him.  “I am grateful for all that you have done for me,” she said.

He held her eyes for a long moment then nodded.  Taking up his lyre, he headed back inside.  “Good night, Glorianna.”

“Good night.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 213

“They’re ready for you.”

Bredan looked up to see Darik standing in the open doorway of his room.  The dwarf wore a new breastplate and looked resplendent in a fur-lined cloak and boots.

Bredan rose, a bit awkwardly due to the still-unfamiliar weight of his own armor.  The dwarves had gifted him with a suit of plate armor, made of layered steel plates over a coat of fine mail links.  He knew that the suit had been altered to fit him—there had not been enough time since his arrival to create a custom suit—yet such was the dwarves’ workmanship that it fit him like a second skin.  They told him that it was infused with magic that would augment the protection that it provided.

“It suits you,” Darik said as they made their way out into the foyer that connected the sleeping rooms of their guest suite.  Quellan and Xeeta were already there waiting for him.  “Don’t you look imposing,” Xeeta said.  She too had been provided with new garments fit precisely to her unusual figure, decorated with silver thread and buckles of polished electrum, while Quellan’s battered half-plate had been restored to an almost glowing finish.

“We’ve come a long way,” the cleric said as Darik escorted them out.

There were other guards in the outer hall who fell into formation around them as they set out into the complex.  Bredan could forgive them the excess of caution.  There had been no sign of the trolls since the failure of the attack on the temple, but the brazen nature of the assault had left the dwarves of Ironcrest jumpy and wary.  But the camps in the tunnels outside the Darkfall Gate had been completely abandoned, without even a stray straggler to be found lurking in the deep passages.

They made their way up to the tier that held the Temple.  Konstantin and Dergan were waiting for them there, along with another half-dozen armed guards.  “Are you ready?” the Arreshian wizard asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bredan replied.

They made their way into the Temple, with two of their escorts moving ahead to pull open the newly-restored doors.  The interior had changed since the battle.  The scattered pews had been stacked along the walls, and the bloodstains had all been cleared away.  But the floor still sagged in the center where the sinkhole had been, and there was just a faint hint of something in the air, a hint of death that all of the cleaner and scrubbing could not fully erase.

In Akhenon’s quarters they found more guards waiting for them, along with a delegation of senior dwarves from the Council.  The elders offered polite greetings to their guests, then withdrew to the back of the room to observe the proceedings.

In the absence of the high priest of Hosrenu, Goran Thunderhammer was present to supervise the ritual.  Once Dergan had used a mechanical key to operate the preliminary locks the cleric stepped forward.  Lifting his holy symbol, he made a number of passes over the round door of the vault.  The steel began to glow, and after a minute they could all hear a series of loud metallic clicks.  That was only the penultimate stage, as Dergan collected a second key from one of the elders that slid through a tiny slot deep into the substance of the door.  When that one had been turned the thick portal began to swing open on recessed hinges.  Goran immediately stepped through into the interior.  Dergan started to follow him, but paused in the entry.

“No dwarf has passed through this opening in five hundred years,” the dwarf said.  He allowed a small smile to crease his otherwise serious mien as he gestured their guests forward.

The interior of the vault was not spacious.  There was a narrow central corridor that extended maybe fifteen feet in and two side-alcoves that were packed with armored niches.  While there were a number of open shelves stacked with a variety of containers, most of the sub-vaults were warded by flat steel doors that themselves looked quite able to withstand determined assault.  Dergan immediately stepped over to one of those and produced still another key, which he used to operate the lock.  The door swung open to reveal a small compartment that contained a metal box maybe eight inches on a side.  This one had only a simple latch, which the dwarf worked before holding the box open for the others to examine.

“The key,” Konstantin said.  “It certainly looks impressive.”

The key was made of a metal that looked like gold, though it had a buff finish that absorbed light rather than reflected it.  It was complex, the central shaft surrounded by a web of interlocked geometries that were intricate enough that one might look at it for hours without fully understanding how they fit together.

Dergan closed the box and offered it to Konstantin.  “I would suggest that you keep it sealed in the box until you reach Severon,” he said.  “The container is shielded against magical detection.”

“A wise precaution,” Konstantin said.  He offered a bow as he tucked the box under his arm.

Goran, meanwhile, had returned from deeper in the vault carrying an armload of books.  “These contain all of our lore regarding the Elderlore Libram,” he said.  He offered the books to Quellan, who respectfully accepted them.

“Thank you again, Representative Steelshield,” Konstantin said.

Dergan gestured for them to return to the outer chamber, but as they started to exit he forestalled Bredan with a hand on his elbow.  “A moment, if you will, Bredan,” he said.

The others noticed the exchange but let themselves be led out.  “So, will you be supervising the Temple until another high priest is consecrated?” Quellan asked Goran as they departed.

Once they were beyond the heavy door Dergan took Bredan to the back of the vault, to a dusty corner where a heavy tarp covered a protruding shelf.  “There is something I thought you should see,” the dwarf said portentously.

Bredan said nothing, he just waited as the dwarf took hold of the tarp and pulled it clear.  Dergan looked at him to gauge his reaction.

“It makes sense, in hindsight,” Bredan said.  He bent over the stone tablet and traced its outline with a finger, finally setting on the words etched into the surface.

_Bredan Karras.  Crosspath,_ they read.

“Do the elves also have a copy of the Revelations Tablet?” he asked.

“If they made one, it was done without our knowledge,” Dergan said.  “We relied solely on our own resources to manufacture this one.”

“Do _you_ have any idea why I was chosen?” Bredan asked.

“If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said that I had no idea,” Dergan said.  “But now… the idea that you may hold some special destiny makes sense to me.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Bredan said.

The dwarf nodded, then led him back out into the outer room to rejoin the others.


----------



## carborundum

All caught up again. Great epic fight at the glade! 
Everyone level up?


----------



## Lazybones

Getting there! The group will level to 7th at the end of Book 8 (after the group is reunited again in Severon). I'll post some updated stats at the start of Book 9 (remind me if I forget). 

* * * 

Chapter 214

A full dozen armored dwarves escorted them to the surface.  This time they felt more like an honor guard, the companions less like prisoners, Bredan thought.  Darik and Dergan walked in their midst.  The pair would be accompanying them back to Severon as representatives of Ironcrest.  That had been part of the concessions negotiated in exchange for yielding the dwarves’ piece of the shattered key, but Bredan remembered that Konstantin had been ready to yield that point even before they had arrived.

They paused at end of the entrance tunnel for one more look at Underhold.  Quellan had been right before; the place was a wonder.

“I think that I am actually going to miss this place,” Xeeta said.  “Despite everything that happened.”

“I concur, but I will be glad to see the others again,” Quellan said.  He looked over at Konstantin, but the wizard looked distracted.  The iron box was secure in his satchel, and he kept one hand resting on it despite all of the protections that surrounded them.

They were greeted by a gust of cold mountain air and bright morning sunshine when they exited the mountain via the huge doors to Hightown.  Their horses were not waiting for them; they would not need them for the return journey.  The dwarves required them to leave the city before Konstantin could initiate his _teleportation circle_, but they had cleared a space within sight of the upper town’s walls for them to use.  They would be outside of the protection of the dwarvish city for only a few minutes.

Bredan watched the citizens of Hightown as they made their way through its streets.  He wondered how much they knew of what had transpired below in recent days.  Hightown was less than an hour’s trek from the Darkfall Gate, but somehow it felt like it was much further.  Maybe it was the transition from the perpetual twilight and mechanical wonders of Underhold to the bright sunshine and cold mountain air of Hightown.

The gates in the outer wall ground open at their approach.  Their escort left them there, so it was just the six members of their diminished party that continued out onto the edge of the broad stone shelf that supported Hightown.  Bredan could see the road that they had traveled to get here, and the deep, wooded valley that spread out below.  It felt like they had been gone for months instead of just a handful of days.

Darik took them to the space reserved for the wizard’s spellcasting.  It was a cleared span of rock, maybe five paces across.  Konstantin began his preparations, using chalk and ink to inscribe a round pattern upon the stone.  Bredan had seen it before, so he looked back toward the city.  He remembered thinking before how hard the place had looked with its sentries and the siege engines that had tracked their approach.  Now it felt tentative, a fragile bulwark of civilization against the violent hordes that surrounded it.

“I have never left the boundaries of Ironcrest,” Darik said abruptly.

“It is the way of our people to resist change,” Dergan said to him.  “But there are times when one must adapt to it or be destroyed.”

“Our peoples were allies once before,” Bredan said.  “Not all change is bad.”

“A pity it takes a mysterious and dangerous threat to bring people together,” Xeeta said.

Dergan looked as though he might have responded, but the wizard had finished his preparations and urged them forward.  Konstantin gathered them around the circle as he incanted the trigger words for his spell.  A shimmering took hold in the air above the design.  The wizard lifted his arm, and as it came down they all took a step forward into the pattern, and disappeared.


----------



## Lazybones

Just a heads-up to my readers that I will be putting _Forgotten Lore_ on hiatus during November, during National Novel Writing Month. I am well ahead in the story at the moment, but I won't have time to dedicate to editing posts while working on my 50,000 word goal. This is my eighth consecutive year participating in NaNoWriMo. It's a great mechanism for would-be writers to motivate themselves to sit down at the computer and put words on the page. It doesn't matter if the output is rough, it's the practice that counts.

* * *

Chapter 215

It was a quiet group that took their leave of the Green Tower the next morning.  The Rangers were restored to consciousness by the bards’ healing magic, although their spells ran out before their collective tally of wounds were treated.  But worse than their physical wounds was the news that their commander had betrayed them.  None of the Rangers visited the grave where the monks had interred Shreskra before they set out.  Darethan had taken custody of her sword, but he carried it rolled up in a blanket and slung across his back, as if he was reluctant to come into direct contact with the weapon.

It was a bedraggled and bandaged group that finally gathered at the barrier thicket.  Majerion summoned another _wall of fire_ that blazed a path through the obstacle.  The thick growth seemed to resist the flames, but finally a charred, ten-foot gap extended through the thicket.

The hilltop remained quiet as they made their way back to the ring of huge trees.  It was almost as if it was eager to see them go.  The companions did not break the stillness with idle chatter.  They, too, were happy to leave this place behind them.

The journey back was unremarkable, but even without creatures trying to kill them it took them four full days to exit the Reserve.  Tenaille stepped into Razelle’s position of scout, and even without Brightbriar’s guidance they were able to retrace their steps with only a few missteps.  Darethan even managed to shoot a deer, which augmented their fading rations.  They emerged from the forest exhausted, ragged, and emotionally drained, but intact.

They reached Easthaven to find a party of elves waiting for them, along with the magical carriage that would carry them back to Tal Nadesh.  The Rangers, still not fully recovered from their ordeal, elected to stay behind.  Glori did not press them.

They lingered only to wash up a bit and enjoy a hot meal.  As they were preparing to depart Loriellan sought out Glori.  “I wanted to apologize,” he said.  “For failing you.”

“You didn’t,” Glori insisted.  “What happened was not your fault.”

“She was one of us,” the elf said.  “We all failed, because we were not willing to see the truth.  She saved my life, at the end.  But all I can think about is Razelle’s empty eyes on mine.”

“That wasn’t her,” Glori said.

“I know.”  He held out the blanket that Glori knew held Shreskra’s sword.  “I ask that you return this to Tal Nadesh,” he said.  “It should go back to her family.”

“I will see that it is done,” Glori said, accepting the weapon.  “Be well, Loriellan.”

The elf nodded and left.

The companions were eager to get back.  The elves at Easthaven had little in the way of news except to say that Javerin had been alive when they had left Tal Nadesh.  The road was just as bumpy as Glori remembered, yet somehow she was able to drift off.  She slept through most of the ride, waking only when they slowed for the mid-way stop.  It was already dark, yet the driver elected to press on once they had used the facilities and taken a brief meal of cold meat and fruit.  The sky was cloudless and the moon was almost full, but it was still eerie riding through the night, the landscape passing by in a blur of shadows and mystery.

It was past midnight when the carriage finally slowed once more as they approached their final destination.  They emerged from the passenger compartment stiff and weary in front of the same staging outpost they had used for their initial departure.  It had been less than two weeks ago, Glori reminded herself.  Lanterns that shone with a pale glow that echoed the moonlight hung from the corners of the structure, giving the whole area a sort of fey aura.  She would not have been surprised to see pixies dancing on the night breeze or a unicorn waiting for them in the field behind the house.

She dismissed those fancies when she saw Lendelaine waiting for them on the porch of the house.  Glori hurried over him.  “Is Javerin all right?” she asked.

“She is well,” the elf said.  “The thing inside her began to fade about five days ago.  Once it released its grip, we were able to purge it from her body without harming her.  She is still recovering in the city, but is eager to speak with you.”

“That’s good news,” Embrae said.

“You do not seem especially surprised about the timing of her recovery,” Lendelaine said.

“We have a lot to tell you,” Glori said.

Lendelaine nodded.  “Come inside.  We have prepared refreshments and beds.  We can continue to the city in the morning.”


----------



## Neurotic

Lazybones said:


> Just a heads-up to my readers that I will be putting _Forgotten Lore_ on hiatus during November, during National Novel Writing Month. I am well ahead in the story at the moment, but I won't have time to dedicate to editing posts while working on my 50,000 word goal. This is my eighth consecutive year participating in NaNoWriMo. It's a great mechanism for would-be writers to motivate themselves to sit down at the computer and put words on the page. It doesn't matter if the output is rough, it's the practice that counts.




Can we read what you've written? Or you polished and published it? Given your normal output, it hardly seems like you need that training


----------



## Lazybones

I have published all of my past NaNoWriMo books at Smashwords and the Kindle Store. I'm sure this year will be no different. 

* * * 

Chapter 216

They spent another two days in Tal Nadesh.  Most of that time was taken up in meetings with elvish officials.  By the end of the second day Glori was entirely fed up with repeating her story, sometimes alone, and sometimes with her companions.  The elves seemed intent on picking out every detail of their experience in the Reserve, even those that seemed trivial and unimportant.  She almost lost her temper in the middle of an hour-long discussion of the trees and other plants they had seen during their journey.

She had been tense throughout the interviews, expecting a request to hand over the key fragment she’d taken from the druid grove.  She’d briefed Javerin about it, but hadn’t revealed to the elves that she was carrying the artifact.  Javerin had also confirmed that Bredan’s expedition had been successful, and they’d already returned to Severon with the dwarvish fragment of the key.  Glori had even toyed with the idea of covertly slipping out of Tal Nadesh and teleporting back to Arresh at once, but the wizard had insisted that they follow protocol.  Their victory over Jakan had won them a considerable amount of influence in the elvish kingdom, Javerin had insisted, and it would be foolish to throw that away via reckless action.

So Glori sat through the meetings, waiting for the elves to wander around to the core of the matter.  But to her surprise, when Lendelaine finally did bring up the matter of the key, it was only to ask that he be permitted to accompany them to Severon to see it used.

“So much for assuming the Council is unaware of anything,” she said later to her companions.  They had gathered for a private supper in their guest quarters, she and Embrae and Kosk.  Javerin was still meeting with representatives of the Council at their headquarters.

“It is difficult for them,” Embrae explained.  “It’s not our way to admit that we need help or to acknowledge that we were wrong.”

Glori, thinking of her last conversation with Majerion, nodded in understanding.  She hadn’t seen her former mentor since they’d returned to Tal Nadesh.  He’d been gone when they’d woken up the morning after their return from the Reserve, and while she’d kept an eye out for him he had not materialized anywhere during their series of meetings and debriefings.

“Did you find someone to hand that sword over to?” Kosk asked.

Glori nodded.  “I spoke to an official who said he would deliver it to Shreskra’s kinfolk,” she said.  “Apparently her family is from a town further south.”

“It will be difficult for them, to learn what happened,” Embrae said.

“I’d be surprised if they did learn the full truth,” Kosk said.  “I got the impression that the Council will be keeping the details of what happened close to the vest.”

“I don’t suppose I can blame them,” Embrae said.

“I wish we knew who Jakan was working with,” Glori said.  “The more I think about it, the less I believe that he worked this much havoc on his own.”

“He had sympathizers,” Kosk reminded her.  “Elves like Shreskra, who believed in his crazy ideology of preserving the power of the Reserve against outsiders.”

“The Reserve does not belong to the King, or the Council, or even to the elvish people,” Embrae said.  “I can only hope that they learn the lesson of what happens when you think like that.”

“You could help them learn that lesson,” Glori said.

“What?” the elf woman asked.

“You could stay here,” Glori said.  “You had said that you wanted to be a Tender once.  Well, that organization has been hollowed out, and could use some even-handed leadership.”

“You would do a good job of that,” Kosk said.

For a moment Embrae seemed flustered.  “I… that’s not why I returned here,” she said.

“Just something to think about,” Glori said.

“I never thought I would say this, but I am actually looking forward to returning to that bloody filth-pot of a city,” Kosk said.

“It will be good to see the others again,” Glori said.

“I wonder if they had as much of a trial as we did,” Kosk said.  “Did the wizard tell you anything more?”

“Only that they had completed their mission and were back in Severon,” Glori said.  “And that they were all alive and well.  From what I understood their means of sending messages back and forth doesn’t allow for a lot of details.”

“Yet another thing they didn’t care to share with us,” Kosk said.  “We should keep our eyes open.”

“Do you expect treachery from the Apernium?” Embrae asked.

Kosk shook his head.  “I just think Bredan had the right idea as far as they are concerned,” he said.  “Those wizards have their own agenda, but we were the ones who brought the pieces of the keys back.  We’re as much as part of this as they are.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 217

The next morning Glori, Embrae, Kosk, and Javerin made their way back across the lushly landscaped greenery of Tal Nadesh back to the teleportation circle on the edge of the city.  Lendelaine accompanied them, but the rest of their escort—a small company of elvish soldiers—remained discreetly back.

The day was mild, even pleasant, with the softest breeze that brought the scents of the blooming flowers to them as they walked.  Glori was again distracted, having looked for Majerion again that morning without success.  Apparently, he was going to make another of his abrupt departures, she thought.  It was foolish to have expected more; she certainly had not been ambiguous in their last detailed conversation back at the druid’s grove.  She still was not quite certain what she had intended to accomplish here, at least in terms of settling her unresolved feelings toward her former mentor.

As they approached the walled enclosure that contained the teleportation circle, they could see an elf waiting for them.  It was Kaesla, the young woman who had kept an eye on them—now that they were leaving, Glori could offer that rather than the less charitable _spied_—after their initial arrival in Tal Nadesh.  She carried a small package that she brought over to Glori.

“Lord Majerion left this for you,” she said.  Glori blinked at that; it was the first time she’d heard his name accompanied by a title.  She shot a question over at Lendelaine.  “I do apologize,” he said.

“For what?” she asked, examining the parcel.  It was nicely wrapped in layers of thick linen, but there was no note or other message upon it.  As she held it she felt a sudden sharp suspicion that caused her heart to pound in anticipation.

“Ah.  I thought he would have told you,” the elf said, distracting her from the package.

“Told us what?” Kosk asked, interjecting himself into the exchange.

Lendelaine looked as though he would have preferred it if he hadn’t spoken.  “The Council asked Majerion to accompany you to the Reserve,” he said.  “They had… suspicions that the attack upon the Ambassador was part of a broader effort to undermine the government in Tal Nadesh, and that the recent problems in the Reserve might be connected.”

“And of course, no one thought it worthwhile to let us know any of this,” Kosk growled.

“You yourselves were something of an unknown quantity,” Lendelaine admitted.  “The Council felt that they needed a trusted agent directly on the ground.”

Glori glanced over at Javerin.  The wizard did not seem surprised, so she had either known or been told after the fact.  “No, he did not tell me,” she said to Lendelaine.  She tore open the parcel.  The bright morning sunlight shone on the brilliant golden lines of Majerion’s _Cli Lyre_.  She knew the details of its form almost as much as she knew her own instrument.  “Why would he give this to me?” she whispered.

She hadn’t meant it as an actual question, but Lendelaine said, “I will say that Majerion did not have to be pressured to join the expedition.  Once he found out the details, he was eager to be a part of it.”

For a moment Glori thought about giving the lyre back, but then she strummed her fingers across the strings.  As always, it was perfectly tuned.

“There’s nothing more we have to do here,” she said to Javerin.  “Let’s go home.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 218

Glori was ready for the disorientation, but as with every other time she had experienced teleportation it still managed to leave her weak and dazed.  When her vision finally cleared she saw that she was standing with the others in the familiar confines of the teleportation circle in the Apernium, the rich décor clashing with the simple natural beauty of the elvish site.

There were two men waiting for them.  As the travelers stepped clear of the circle they came forward to greet them.  One wore the long robes of a member of the Apernium, while the other was clad in the livery of the King.  The latter offered a crisp bow and presented himself to Lendelaine, saying, “Ambassador, welcome to Severon.  King Dangren is pleased to have a member of the Advisory Council of Tal Nadesh as a guest in our fair city again.  In the King’s own words, ‘It is a sadness for two good friends to remain so far apart.’”

Lendelaine offered some lush diplomatic reply, but Glori barely heard him.  Her eyes were on the far side of the room, where a familiar figure was rising from a bench near the entry.  Her grin matched his as he came forward to enfold her in a warm embrace.

“I missed you,” Glori said.

“Right back at you,” Bredan replied.  He drew back to see that the diplomats were all watching them, but his smile only grew wider as he reached out to clasp Kosk’s arm.

“Where are Quellan and Xeeta?” Glori asked.

“Quellan went to the temple complex this morning,” Bredan said.  “Xeeta was back at the inn when I left her.  I wouldn’t be here myself, except that I happened to run into Gavelmaster Ostrick, who mentioned that you were coming back today.”

“We need to report in, see that our guest is settled, and secure the fragment of the key in the vault,” Javerin said sternly.  But on seeing the look on Glori’s face the wizard relented.  “I suppose you will need a brief interval to recover.  I will send a messenger to the inn when the Circle is ready to debrief you.”

Bredan clapped Glori on the arm.  “Come on, I’ll stand you all a round.”

“I should get back to the monastery,” Embrae said.

“You are welcome to join us,” Kosk said.

“Yes, please do come,” Glori said.

The elf woman shook her head.  She glanced over at the members of the diplomatic party but did not quite meet Lendelaine’s eyes.  “I… I need some time to consider… things,” she said.  “Wizard Javerin, I will return tomorrow to meet with your superiors.”

“Thank you, Adept Kelandras,” Javerin said with a respectful bow.  “Please extend our gratitude to your abbot.”

The monk left, followed by the wizard and the other members of the diplomatic party.  When they were alone again, Glori asked, “The others are well, then?”

Bredan nodded.  “There were a few tough stretches when it wasn’t clear we would all make it, but everything turned out mostly all right.  Let’s go back to the inn.  I’ve got a few stories to tell, and I’ll wager you do as well.”

“It’ll take more than one round to get through our tale,” Kosk said.  “But lead on.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 219

Quellan felt an unexplained nervous energy that made it difficult for him to focus his thoughts.  After his meeting at the Rectory he had intended to spend a few hours at the Great Library, but instead found himself walking alone in the gardens that extended along the rear wall of the temple complex.  After that he took his time making his way back to the inn, but the intense looks he drew from the city folk had him eager for the solitude of his room.  He entered through the side door, preferring to avoid the bustle of the common room, but as he turned toward the stairs leading up to the guest rooms he heard a familiar voice that drew him back around.  His dark mood evaporated, and he had a big smile on his face as he made his way into the common room.

“Kosk!  I didn’t know you were back.”

The dwarf clasped his arm tightly.  “Heard we were a little late, but we made it eventually, and with the widget.”

“Kosk was just telling us about his adventures in Tal Nadesh,” Xeeta said.  “It sounds like they had an even tougher time of it than we did.”

“You always did have a nose for finding trouble,” Quellan said.  “Where’s Glori?”

“She went looking for you, actually,” Bredan said.  “I told her it was a fool’s errand, given how big the Temple here is, but she insisted.”

“Pull up a chair,” Xeeta suggested.  “She’ll find her way back here eventually.”

“No, I’d better go find her,” Quellan said.  “But I want to hear that story later.”  He clapped Kosk on the shoulder and turned around, missing the knowing smiles his companions shared behind his back.

He left the way he’d come in, but he barely made it through the door before he almost collided with Glori.

“Quellan!”

“Glori!”

He embraced her in a hug.  She laughed as he lifted her off her feet.  “I looked all over for you,” she said, swatting his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I missed you.”

“Yes, well, apparently Javerin had a spell that allowed her to keep in touch with her friends in the Apernium.  She told them we were coming back today, but apparently they didn’t share that information with you guys.  Bredan said he heard about it only by accident, so he was there when we arrived.”

“I’m just glad to see you okay,” he said.  “The others are inside.”

She nodded, but instead of heading into the inn she sat down on a bench next to the door.  He joined her there, careful of the wood as he settled onto it.

“I’m a little cross with you,” she said.  “Javerin told me that clerics can also cast that long-distance-messenging spell as well.”

“_Sending_,” Quellan said.

“And you can cast this spell?”

He nodded.

“So we didn’t need to rely on the wizards to keep in touch,” Glori said.  “I wouldn’t have had to worry about you as much.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I… I couldn’t.”

“I understand,” she said.  “The spell couldn’t penetrate the Reserve.  Bredan told me that the wizards were all freaking out when they lost contact with Javerin and couldn’t reach any of us.  I suppose it was the same in Underhold for you.  Bredan said they had all sorts of magical wards and…”

“No, Glori,” he said.  “I _couldn’t_.”  He looked down at his feet as he spoke.  “If something had happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to function.  I just had to believe that you were all right.  Bredan and Xeeta needed me.  I know it’s selfish.  I just… couldn’t.”

“Oh,” she said.

“We should go back in,” he said, rising suddenly.  “The others will want to talk to you…”

She stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the door.  “Glori…”

She interrupted him by stepping up into him.  Her head came up, her lips meeting his.  He enfolded her with his arms, once more pulling her off her feet, but careful not to crush her with his strength.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 220

Rays of bright morning sunshine slanted down through the narrow windows as Bredan, Kosk, and Xeeta walked down the long entry hall of the Apernium.  They knew where they were going and did not have an escort.  They were honored guests now, though they still had to leave all of their weapons at the entry whenever they visited.  That was no real inconvenience, Bredan thought.  The three of them were hardly less dangerous when disarmed.

He had to remind himself that they were not looking for trouble that day.  The wizards had been more forthcoming with information of late, but Bredan would not have bet a copper coin against them keeping more secrets from them.  The Apernium was like that, keeping secrets seemed to come as a matter of course in this place.

They turned into a side corridor that led to the first-floor meeting rooms they had visited previously.  They were nearly at the chamber that the messenger had identified when the door opened and some familiar faces stepped into view.

“Ah, good,” Bredan said.  “Kosk, there are two people here I’d like you to meet…”

He trailed off when he realized that the monk had come to an abrupt stop.  Darik and Dergan had paused with odd looks on their faces.  Behind them, Konstantin stepped out into the hallway.  He started to nod in greeting but stopped as he sensed the sudden change in mood.

“Kosk, what’s wrong?” Bredan asked.

The monk did not respond, but the other two dwarves suddenly stepped forward.  The looks on their faces almost had Bredan summoning his sword, before he remembered where they were.  He obviously wasn’t the only one, as Darik reached for his hip before realizing that he didn’t have his weapons on his person.

Bredan stepped forward to block them from Kosk.  “Now what is going on—” he began.

“The Bloody Fist!” Darik said, jabbing a thick finger at Kosk.  “You can shave your beard, but I’ll never in my life forget that face!”

“I don’t know who you think this is,” Xeeta said.  “But he’s Kosk Stonefist, a monk of the Open Fist.”

“That’s his name, but he’s the Bloody Fist, all right,” Darik said.

“This man is a wanted criminal,” Dergan said.  “A death sentence hangs over his head in Ironcrest.”

Bredan glanced back at Kosk, who had the look of a man who’d just been stabbed in the gut.  “Kosk…”

“Let’s all remain calm,” Konstantin said.

“This man is a bandit and a murderer,” Darik said.  “If you shelter him, then you’re little better than accomplices to his crimes.”

“You must be wrong,” Xeeta said.  “How do you know this is the same man?  Kosk has been living in Arresh for years, and he’s fought with us many times.  He saved my life, many times.”

“How can I know?” Darik asked.  “He killed my uncle.  As for how I know it’s him, an eyewitness escaped his murderous grasp.  He was an artist, and he created a perfect rendition of the man who led the bloody-handed bastards who slaughtered the men of his caravan.  I studied that image until I knew his face as well as my own father’s.  And that’s the face staring right back at me now!”

Bredan looked again at his friend.  “Kosk?”

The dwarf let out a sigh.  “It’s true,” he said.  “It’s all true.  I was a bandit, a thief, and a killer.  Everything he said is true.  All of it.”


----------



## carborundum

WHAAAAAAAT?


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 221

“Let’s just stay calm,” Konstantin said.

The wizard was alone with Bredan and Xeeta in one of the small meeting rooms.  The dwarves had almost had to be physically separated by the Apernium guards, who had been drawn either by Darik’s shouting or by some subtle alert from the wizard.  The two emissaries had allowed themselves to be escorted to a waiting area, though not before Darik had threatened to appeal to King Dangren and Dergan had formally requested that Kosk be turned over to them.  Kosk in turn had simply submitted and had been taken into custody pending a review.

“Calm?” Bredan asked.  There wasn’t much space to move about in the room, but the warrior was pacing back and forth angrily.  “Those men accused my friend of being a killer.”

“An accusation that he did not deny,” Konstantin said.

“He’s a hero,” Xeeta said.  “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.  Glori said that they never would have gotten the key and saved Javerin if he hadn’t been there, and in the Silverpeak…”

“I am not taking a position,” Konstantin said.  “I do not know all of the facts, nor do you.”

“You can’t just turn him over,” Bredan said.

“There is no treaty of extradition between Arresh and Ironcrest,” Konstantin said.  “Nor has Kosk committed any crimes in the kingdom, as far as I am aware.  Yes, yes,” he added as Xeeta opened her mouth to speak.  “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“So why are you holding him, then?” Bredan asked.  “You should let him go, and keep the Ironcrest dwarves away from him.”

The wizard sighed.  “It is not so simple.  We cannot afford to offend Ironcrest right now.”

“Why not?” Xeeta asked.  “You have the key.”

“You yourself have stated that we face a greater threat, a common threat,” Konstantin said to Bredan.  “Would you have us throw away a possible alliance against that threat for one man?”

Bredan stopped pacing, but before he could answer the door burst open and Glori and Quellan came in, escorted by Javerin.  “What’s going on?” Glori asked.  “We heard that Kosk has been arrested.”

“At the moment he is just being held for questioning,” Konstantin said.

“Did you know about this?” Bredan asked Quellan.  “That Kosk had been a bandit.”

Glori stepped over to the cleric in a gesture of support.  Quellan looked troubled.  “I knew that he had a past,” he said.  “That sort of thing… it was not uncommon, at the monastery.  Not everyone seeks to become a priest or a monk as a vocational calling.”

“The Ironcrest dwarves are saying that he was a murderer,” Xeeta said.  “A bandit.”

“We have all killed,” Quellan said.  “I have known Kosk for a long time.  I know that he was escaping something, a past life that left him deeply troubled.  I can believe that he was a bandit.  But to call him a murderer implies a certain cold-blooded viciousness, a lack of concern for life.  That is not the Kosk Stonefist that I know.”

“The civil authorities do not have any jurisdiction in this case, unless he can be proven to have committed crimes in Arresh,” Javerin said.

“Konstantin was just telling us that,” Xeeta said.  “But he was also telling us about the… politics of the situation.”

“We won’t stand by while Kosk is handed over to Ironcrest,” Glori said.

“Let’s hope it does not come to that,” Konstantin said.  “But for now, Kosk can no longer be a part of the visit to the Vault of the Book tomorrow.  It would be needlessly provocative toward the Ironcrest delegation.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to offend them,” Bredan said.

“Bredan, they have a point,” Quellan said.  “Imagine if the roles were reversed, and you had lost someone close to a man you knew only as a bandit and killer.”

“We have good relations with Abbot Anaeus at the Monastery of the Quiet Path,” Javerin said.  “It might be a good idea if Master Stonefist were to go upon a contemplative retreat for the near future.”

“After what he went through to get the key, he deserves to be there at the end,” Glori said.

“I understand,” Javerin said.  “But it is what it is.”

“I can see it, the logic of it,” Bredan said.  “But understand this.  If anything happens to Kosk, if you do anything to him without consulting us… there will be trouble.”

Javerin bristled at the implied threat, but Konstantin just nodded.  “I will pass that on,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 222

The wind blew hard over the exposed jut of stone.  It swept over the edge where a drop of several hundred feet plummeted down to the treetops in the valley below.  The sky was a vast blue expanse empty of everything save for the occasional solitary bird circling high above.

The figure seated on the edge of the jut did not notice the birds or the breeze or the sharp drop.  He sat alone, deep within his own thoughts.

Embrae emerged from a small door in the high wall that circled the monastery and walked out to where the solitary figure meditated.  The breeze tugged at her loose robe, but she showed no fear of the crumbling edge just a pace from where she walked.  She passed along the narrow trail to the outcrop, then hopped up onto it and slowly advanced to the waiting figure.

“I missed you in town yesterday,” she said.

The other said nothing.

“I spoke with Glori,” she said.  “I’m sorry, Kosk.  If you wish to remain alone I will respect your wishes, but there are times when it helps to talk.”

“There is nothing to be done for it,” he said.  “I made my own fate.”

“We all change,” Embrae said.  “Even elves, though there are many among my kind who would deny the charge.”

“One cannot change the past.”

“No.  But one can change the future.  It seems to me like you’ve done a pretty good job of that.  That person those dwarves are looking for… that isn’t you, Kosk.”

“It was,” Kosk said.  “I was a vicious bastard, Embrae.”

“You tried to atone,” Embrae said.  “Nobody is ever so far gone that they cannot change who they are.”

Kosk shook his head.  “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve forgiveness.  I killed people, people who had done nothing to deserve the fate I visited upon them.”

“Expunging your life won’t do anything to help them,” Embrae said.

“You don’t have to make those arguments to me,” Kosk said.  “I’ve made them all to myself, every possible variation, a hundred times.”

“You’re going to turn yourself over to them.”

Kosk didn’t say anything, and after a few moments Embrae continued, “What good will that do?”

“It may help some of those I have wronged to move on.”

“I don’t know.  It sort of sounds like the coward’s path.”

At that some of his calm cracked, and an angry look briefly crossed his features.  “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“It’s true, I have not known you for very long,” she said.  “But what of those who have?  They care about you, Kosk.”

“They’ll get by all right.”

“Maybe they will.  But it will hurt them.  They won’t understand either, why you’ll just give up without a fight.  From what I hear, people who know you are lining up to offer testimony in your defense.”

“I didn’t ask them to.”

“You didn’t have to, Kosk.  That’s what friendship is.  I suggest you think about that, because I have a feeling that we’re coming up on dangerous times ahead.  What we encountered in the forest, that wasn’t the end of it, you know that as well as I do.  And we’re going to need each other’s help to face it, whatever it is.”

She paused, letting the calm beauty of the day just exist between them.  Finally she said, “I am going back to my people, back to Tal Nadesh.”

At that he finally did look over at her.  “What made you change your mind?”

“It was something a friend told me recently,” she said.  “That I might do a good job helping to rebuild the Tenders.  And he taught me a lesson about confronting one’s own past, rather than letting it define you.”

He didn’t respond.  The elf woman turned and went back the way she had come, her angry strides crunching on the loose stones of the path far more than her quiet approach had, punctuated by the slamming of the door set into the wall.

Kosk remained alone with his thoughts as the day began to fade.


----------



## Lazybones

Today: the last post of Book 8 of the story. 

* * * 

Chapter 223

The doors to the Vault swung ponderously open.  After seeing the massive works at Ironcrest they seemed less impressive to Bredan, but it was still enough of a mass of stone being moved to give him pause.  A thought flitted into his mind of being trapped behind those doors, unable to escape while the air slowly grew stale.

He pushed that thought roughly aside as he joined the entourage that filtered into the now-open outer chamber.  In addition to Konstantin, Javerin, and several other wizards, the group included Bredan and his companions—save one—and the representatives of both the dwarves of Ironcrest and the elves of Tal Nadesh.  The pair of dwarves chose to stand on the far side of the room from Bredan and his friends.  Glori had introduced the elvish delegate, a man named Lendelaine.  He looked distracted as he stood off to the side, scanning the interior of the Vault chamber.

As before, there wasn’t much to see.  The broken tablet of the Revelation Stone still stood atop its platform, facing into the room.  The broad wall facing the entry was still as blank and featureless as it had ever been, but as on that last visit Bredan could feel something, a faint stirring of power.  Looking again at the elf, he wondered if he felt it as well.

One final figure came into the room, and remained standing at the back.  Bredan recognized him as the figure who had stood high up in the back of the room at their first meeting with the Circle.  The King’s representative, then, though as before he seemed content merely to observe.

“Let us proceed,” Javerin said.  Three of the junior wizards came forward, each carrying a small sealed box.  The dwarvish and elvish delegates did not move, but Bredan could sense the sudden increase in intensity.  They all had it, staring as the wizards carried their containers to the edge of the platform that held the Revelation Stone.  Javerin waited until they had all put down the boxes and withdrew before she opened each of them.  She didn’t use a key, just ran a finger along the outer edge of the lid, but they each popped open as if she’d worked a mechanism.

“_Ut vresh al turam nosk,_ she said.  “_Shre solvas tendrai les sora tal._  Five centuries ago, our three races chose to seal the Elderlore Libram away from those who would misuse its power.  But now the three kingdoms have again come together to break the seals and access the ancient power of the Book.”

One by one she lifted each of the pieces of the shattered key from the open boxes.  The final piece, the one held by the Apernium, was made of a black metal, its edges sharp and menacing.  She tried to fit it to the silver key, and then the gold one, but it was not clear how the fragments meshed.  She tried again, trying different combinations and approaches until her brow furrowed in consternation.

The gathered notables began to look concerned.

“Bredan.”

Konstantin’s voice jolted Bredan back to full awareness.  He looked around and realized that he’d taken a few steps forward without realizing it.  At the wizard’s gesture, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, we walked the rest of the way over to the pedestal.

For a long moment Javerin just looked at him in obvious disapproval.  When he did not recoil before her intensity, however, she handed the pieces of the key to him.

They were all complex, like the pieces of a puzzle.  His uncle had owned something like that, a toy fashioned of metal, designed so that it only came together when the pieces were juxtaposed in a specific manner.  But it wasn’t his skill as a smith that had him sliding the three pieces together.  It was some kind of instinct.  He just _knew_ how they would fit together.  And they did, the three pieces of the key blending together until it was just one hefty piece of metal resting in his hands.

“Now all we need is a lock,” he heard Xeeta say.

But Bredan was already turning toward the far wall of the chamber.  Javerin started to interrupt him, but desisted at a gesture from Konstantin.  Bredan approached the wall, the others falling in behind him.  Again it was instinct that guided him rather than any specific knowledge.  As he got closer to the wall the key began to feel warm in his hands.  He lifted it, almost as he would have lifted his sword.  The wall responded, a shimmer forming within the stone.  As he brought the key forward the distortion swelled until it formed a disk a full five feet across.  Bredan touched the key to that spot.  The shimmer instantly became an opening, one that led into a chamber directly ahead.  He could see clearly into it, as if the breach had been a true door in the stone wall.  But he somehow knew that the space he was seeing was not truly located on the other side of that barrier, but was somewhere else entirely.

“How does it work?” Xeeta asked.  “Does he have to go first, or should he go last…”

Bredan turned at her words, and the looks on the faces of the others—human wizards, dwarves, and elves alike—told him that none of them knew the answer.  “We can all go,” he said, though he wasn’t certain that he was right.

The others followed him through the portal into the chamber beyond.  It was a considerable space, the walls, ceiling and floor all made up of a pale bluish stone.  Half-spheres that formed a ring around the peaked ceiling filled the room with a gentle, diffuse light.  There were no other exits visible.

The center of the room was dominated by a stone pedestal similar to the one that supported the Revelation Stone, except more than twice its size.  There was a wooden frame set in the center of the pedestal that had obviously been designed to support an object.  Yet there was nothing there.

“Where is it?” Dergan asked.  “Where is the book?”

The others spread out, searching every nook and cranny in the room.  But it was obvious from one look that there were no places where something could be hidden.  Even so, the wizards and their guests both examined the pedestal, looking behind it and tapping it for secret doors or hidden compartments.  Bredan was barely aware of their efforts.  He just kept staring up at the sloping walls that slanted up to join at the apex twenty feet above the empty pedestal.

Glori was the first to notice.  “Bredan?  What is it?  What’s wrong?”

Something in her voice drew the attention of the others, until they were all looking at him.  “Bredan?” Quellan asked.  He came over and gently laid his hand on the warrior’s shoulder.  “What do you see?”

The others glanced up at the spot where Bredan’s gaze was fixed, but all they could see was bare stone.  “Bredan?” Glori asked.  “We should get him out of here…”

“It’s a message,” Bredan said suddenly.  “It says that the Book has returned to where it was first found by modern men, centuries ago.”  His eyes came down and met Glori’s, and she shuddered at the intensity that she saw there.  “It says that it waits for us there.”


----------



## Lazybones

Book 9: CITY OF MYSTERY

Chapter 224

The Warren was a tangled network of twisting alleys and close-packed, sagging buildings that filled a narrow wedge of space between the northern edge of the Shield District and Severon’s Old Wall.  The last light of the day was fading as a solitary figure, draped in a concealing cloak, made his way deeper into that network.

The intruder did not go unnoticed.  At one point, as he paused at an intersection, shadowy figures materialized at the mouth of the one of the crossing alleys.  The stranger reached under his cloak and waited, and after a few moments the shadows withdrew.  He continued on his way as the evening gloom descended upon the city.

He finally turned into a narrow passage that culminated in a set of worn stone steps.  They descended to a heavy iron-bound door.  The banding was caked with rust, but the hinges glistened with fresh oil.

The traveler rapped on the door and waited.  Eventually a narrow slit slid open to reveal a pair of eyes.  “Not open yet,” he said.

“I’m expected,” the traveler said.

The slot snapped shut, and after a moment the traveler could hear the sounds of heavy latches being worked.  Finally, the door swung open—the treated hinges making barely a sound—to reveal a small foyer populated with wooden cubbies that filled an entire wall.  A doorway framed with red curtains led into the interior, but it was blocked by the man who had opened the door, a giant who stood a head taller than the traveler.  He regarded the new arrival for a moment before holding out his hand.

The traveler reached under his cloak and produced a sword in a worn leather scabbard.  The big man merely turned and slid it into one of the cubbies before gesturing for the other to precede him into the next room.

The two men walked into a space that was lushly decorated, with more curtains augmented by painted tapestries and polished wooden floors.  A dozen lamps of brass with glass bulbs hung from sconces along the walls and the carved wooden pillars that helped support the ceiling.  Only two of them were lit, leaving the interior dim and shadowed.  But there was no mistaking the purpose of the place, even empty.  Neat piles of chips were laid out on the tables, along with dice cups, stacks of cards, and even the gilded spinning disc and elaborate counters used for games of dragonette.  A long bar that fronted shelves containing every possible variety of liquor ran along the left side of the room.

“He’s in the back,” the big man said.  The traveler knew the way.  He knew The Lucky Cast all too well.  That was the root of his troubles.  His immediate ones, anyway.

The back door was slightly open, but the traveler knew better than to enter without knocking.  He waited until the deep voice said, “Come in,” before he pushed the door fully open and went in.

The back room was as ornate as the gambling chamber, its walls paneled with rich woods and a plush carpet that looked like elvish make covering the floor.  An expansive desk dominated the space.  Behind it was the man that the traveler had come to see.  Another man leaned against the wall near the door, cleaning his fingernails with a knife as slender as he was.  The big guard had gone back to his station, leaving the traveler to close the door behind him.

“Ah, Garrett,” the man behind the desk said.  He was also of thick build, more muscle than fat.  His skin had a grayish cast that suggested at his part-orcish bloodline even before his mouth opened to reveal the protruding tusks within.  “Do you have what I asked for?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Garrett said.  “But this is the last time.  After this, we’re square, you got that, Gantz?”

The half-orc smiled, a grim expression given his features.  From the look in his eyes he knew only too well what effect it produced.  “What makes you think you call the shots here, warrior?”

Garrett’s eyes flicked to the man with the knife, but he did not falter.  “I pay my debts,” he said.  “I’ve paid several times over.  You can do what you want, but after this, I’m done.”

Gantz held the other man’s eyes for a long moment before he settled back in his chair.  “All right, fair enough.  Now tell me.”

“They left town yesterday,” Garrett said.  “They were preparing for a sea journey.”

“Colverston?”

“That would be my guess.”

“They say where they were going after that?”

“No.  But I overheard the half-elf asking the other woman if she was uncomfortable about returning to her homeland.  They didn’t say where that was.”

Gantz nodded.  “Good.  That’s good.  You’ve done well, Garrett.”

“What did these people do to you, you rogue?”

“That is none of your concern.  A deal’s a deal, and we’re square, as you said.  I would suggest that you do your gambling somewhere else in the future.”

“Don’t worry.  You won’t ever see me again.”

Garrett turned back to the door.  He met the eyes of the thin man with the knife for a moment, then opened the door and left.  The knife-wielder prodded the door shut with his boot before turning back to Gantz.

“Make it look like a simple mugging gone bad,” the half-orc said.  “Make sure he’s found far away from here.”

The thin man nodded and departed.

Gantz waited another minute, then rose.  He went to one of the wall panels and pressed a hidden catch along its edge.  The panel swung out, revealing a hidden space beyond.  The half-orc reached in and first took out a leather harness that supported no fewer than four daggers in black scabbards.  He put that on before pulling out a heavy coat.  As he pulled it on he considered the chances of his evening ending the same way that Garrett’s would.  That would be ironic, he thought.  But it didn’t matter.  Like the unlucky gambler, he had no choice.

The main room of The Lucky Cast was quiet.  In a few hours it would be crowded with people, noisy with the click of dice and the whirring of the wheel, the groans of failure offset by the cheers of success.  It was an intoxicating mixture, and one that Gantz enjoyed.

Pellas saw him coming and opened the door for him.  “I’ll should be back by opening,” Gantz told him.

“You want I should get a couple of the boys?” the big enforcer asked.

“No.”  In truth he might have appreciated some company, but their presence would have no impact on what happened when he delivered his message.  He would have preferred to wait until morning, but the one who had commissioned him for this job had made it one hundred percent clear that delay was not acceptable.

Pellas merely accepted his orders without question.  He stood at the door until Gantz left, then he swung it shut and latched it behind him.


----------



## Lazybones

I have one more post queued up for Friday, then it's a month off for NaNoWriMo.

* * * 

Chapter 225

A steady breeze blew off the water as flocks of sea birds danced and darted in the air over the docks of Colverston.  The wharf, which extended for almost half a mile along the edge of the bay, bustled with activity as men and horses worked to load and unload the score of ships lashed to the piers of the harbor.  Smaller fishing boats slid in and out between the larger craft, delivering their catch before the sun faded beyond the horizon.

Bredan sat watching the scene from a perch along the sea wall near the southern end of the wharf.  It was funny, he thought.  Colverston was a proper city, easily ten times the size of Crosspath even leaving aside the many travelers and traders who came and went via the busy port.  But after his time in Severon and Ironcrest, it seemed small, even provincial.  The tallest building in the city was the keep, but it could not rival even the humblest of the monumental structures he’d seen in the two capitals.

_The world is the same,_ he thought.  _It’s me who’s changed._

“You know that we’re supposed to stay together,” a familiar voice said, drawing him out of his reverie.  “None of us should be alone here, especially you.”

He looked up and smiled at Glori.  It was good to be together again.  All of them… though it had taken some persuading to get the wizards and the King’s men to agree to let Kosk accompany the expedition.  The Ironcrest dwarves had not let up in their protests, even when the monk had agreed to turn himself over to their custody—_after_ the mission to Weltarin was concluded.

Glori smiled back at him and took the space next to him along the sea wall, careful of the scattered spatters of bird guano on the stone.

“I thought this might be the last chance to be alone for a while,” he said.

“That’s true.  Not much privacy on a ship.”

“I’ve never seen the sea before,” Bredan said.

“This is only the start of it,” Glori pointed out.  “This bay here connects to the Gulf of Arresh, which is pretty tame, or so I’ve been told.  The Blue Deep is out beyond, an ocean bigger than all of Voralis put together.”

“You’ve seen a lot in your travels,” he said.

“I’ve never been here,” she admitted.  “But I visited Shellas Point with Majerion, and took a few brief voyages, mostly just short hops from one coastal city to another.”

“I heard that you saw him in Tal Nadesh.  Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  I guess I sorted out a few things.  And I got a new lyre.”  She shifted to show him the instrument that rode now on her hip.  It was a beautiful instrument, its body a rich golden color.

“Nice,” Bredan said.  “I noticed it, of course.  I didn’t want to say anything… I know how devoted you were to your old one.”

“I still have it,” she said.  “This one’s magical.  Actual magic, not the…  Well, it can cast several powerful spells.”

Bredan knew what she’d been about to say, that Majerion had lied to her about her old lyre’s magic to help her adjust to the reality of her own budding magical powers.  She’d held on to a lot of anger, both about that and her feelings of abandonment by her former mentor.  Bredan knew that she’d tell him more when she was ready, so he didn’t push her on it.  The days since their reunion had been busy with activity, especially after the revelations in the Vault of the Book.  But they would have plenty of time to share their respective tales on the coming journey.  From what he had been told, it would take weeks if not months to reach their final destination.

“That could come in handy, where we’re going,” he said.

For a moment they just watched the fading day in silence, then she said, “What do you think of Kalasien?”

“The King’s man?  He seems to know his business, I guess.  Why?”

“I don’t know.  There’s something about him, it just makes me uneasy.”

“Well, he is a spy, of sorts.  And we will need his skills and knowledge to get where we’re going.  Has he said or done something that triggered your instincts?”

“No, nothing specific.  We’d encountered him once before, you know.  Before the Vault, I mean.”

“Yeah.  That first meeting with the Circle, in the Apernium.  The man in the back.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

“Why, because I looked like I was going to whip out my sword and start chopping wizards in half?”

She laughed, but it quickly turned back into a serious expression.  “I’d never seen you so angry,” she said.  “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified, not after what happened to you.  But it was… scary.”

“I know.  I’ve changed, I know it.  It scares me too.  But this… I have to do this, Glori.  Have to see it to the end.  Wherever that is.”

“I know.”

A clank of metal announced the arrival of Quellan.  The cleric’s heavy armor made it difficult for him to creep up on anyone undetected, but after what had happened in Underhold he tended to wear it any time he was not actually sleeping.

“The sea captain we were supposed to meet has arrived,” Quellan said.  “Kalasien is meeting with him.”

“Where’s Kosk?” Glori asked.

“Meditating,” Quellan said.  “I do not believe that he is looking forward to the sea journey.”

“This is only the first stage,” Glori said.  “It should be easy compared to the next one.”

“I did not feel that Kosk was receptive to such reminders at the moment,” Quellan said.

“What about Xeeta?” Bredan asked.  “It cannot be easy for her… the thought of returning home.”

“Arienne,” Glori said to Bredan.  “You should start getting used to it now, that way you’re less likely to make a mistake when it matters.”

“You’re right,” Bredan said.

“I spoke with her on the way here,” the cleric said.  “She said that she considers ‘home’ to be with us, wherever we are.  She understands the need, that the only place where we can find a crew that can make the arduous journey to the Weltarin continent is in Li Syval.”

“A pity we cannot rely upon the wizards for speedy transportation this time,” Glori said.

“There are no teleportation circles in Weltarin,” Quellan said.  “And from what I understand, teleportation without one, to a destination that is not well-known, can be quite hazardous.”

“It is what it is,” Bredan said.  “I suppose we should get back, meet this captain.”

“He is supposed to be someone trustworthy,” Quellan said.  “He’s Arreshian, a man who’s worked for the Crown in the past.”

“Yeah, I gathered he’s made this journey plenty of times in the past,” Glori said.

Bredan brushed off his leggings as he rose to his feet.  “I’d still like to see for myself.”

“We’ll all go,” Glori said.

The three of them made their way back along the docks toward their inn, while around them the bustle of a busy afternoon along the wharf continued, ignorant and unconcerned with their affairs.


----------



## Lazybones

One final cliffhanger; see you in December.

* * * 

Chapter 226

In a dismal chamber far under the streets of Li Syval, a man knelt in front of an altar of ancient stone.

The air was stale and thick with foul odors, the floor slick with muck and filth, but the man paid no attention whatsoever to his surroundings.  A metal grate in the ceiling let in shattered fragments of light, just a faint glow that filtered down from somewhere above, but the man’s eyes were well-used to the near-darkness.  A steady drip of water could be heard from somewhere nearby.

The man was clad in old rags that gave him a hunched and harmless appearance.  The reality, however, was far from that impression.

He spoke quietly to himself as his hands traveled over the altar.  Runes had been etched into the stone, so weathered that even his sensitive fingers could only barely detect them.  The center of the stone had been hollowed out so that it formed a sort of font.  It was currently empty, though there were old stains around the edges of the bowl that suggested at what it had once held.

The man rose slowly, the creaking of his tired muscles no affectation, and stepped around the altar to a shallow alcove in the wall behind it.  The stones there had been carved to form dozens of small cubbies.  The light was just barely enough to reveal that there were small objects in those niches.  Most of them were gray and blended in with their surroundings, but here and there a flash of color was visible.

The old man’s eyes passed over the niches as if they were old friends.  He stopped at the one he was looking for and reached into to withdraw the object.  For a moment, as he held it up, the light caught it and revealed its form.

It was a tiny statuette, no more than a finger’s length in height.  For something that small it was incredibly detailed.  It depicted a small person, a woman.  It had been painted with such intricate care that the clothes she wore looked almost like real fabric, and her hair looked almost as though it would sway in a breeze.  But the weak light also revealed other features, tiny white horns that curled up from her head and skin that was too red to be human.

The old man stared at the tiny figure with rapt admiration.  “My beautiful child.  I’ve waited so long for you to come back to me.”

A sound from the corridor outside the room drew the old man’s attention.  It was not much, just a soft scrape on stone, but he quickly turned and tucked the figure into his fist before concealing it against his body.

“Come in, my lovelies,” he said, beckoning with his other hand.

Two figures shuffled into the room.  At first glance they looked as physically disparate as two beings could be.  One was a huge, thick-limbed hulk, his head almost reaching the upper lintel of the doorway.  That head seemed to be perched directly on his broad shoulders, his neck all but invisible under cords of muscle.  For all that his tread was surprisingly soft; his steps made only the faint sounds that had alerted the old man.

The brute’s companion was his opposite in every regard.  He was thinner even than the old man, his arms hanging from his body like gangly reeds.  He walked hunched over, his palms touching the floor as if seeking the reassurance of the solid stone.  His jaw hung at an odd angle, causing one side of his face to droop slightly.

As the two figures came toward the light—not quite entering the radius of the illuminated area—some features became visible that suggested that they were not as different as first appeared.  Their skin bore a tint, a mottled gray that wasn’t entirely due to the washed-out light.  Both had slightly pointed teeth and ears, and prominent, ridged brows that culminated in small black horns that stuck out from the sides of their temples.

The two watched the old man in silence.  Finally, he said, “I have news, my pretties, important news.  One of our lost sheep is returning to us.”

Still the pair did not react.  The old man waved a hand, and an image swirled into view in front of him.  It showed the same figure represented by the statuette in his hand, a woman of the same mixed heritage as the unlikely duo.

“Find her.  Bring her to me, unharmed.”

“Where should we look, Master?” the smaller one asked.  His deformed jaw added a slur to his words, but they were understandable.

“Keep an eye out for ships coming from the mainland,” the old man said.  “Remember, do not be seen.”

The pair turned and left.

The old man watched them go, then turned and put the figurine back into its place in the alcove.  Behind him, a shadow stirred in a corner of the room, where two walls met the ceiling.  It dropped down and crept forward almost to the edge of the light, almost where the smaller of the two tieflings had stood.  It was a spider, fat and hideous, roughly the size of a small cat.  It moved with an odd gait, as it was missing one of its legs.

For a moment it just watched the old man, who was still staring at the niche in the wall.  Then it spoke.

“They won’t find her,” it said.  “They can barely find their own arses to scratch, that pair.”

“Don’t be harsh, Zuvox,” the old man said without turning.  “The twins have given loyal service.”

“Unlike some others I might mention,” the spider said.  “Whatever brings her back here, she won’t be stupid enough to reveal her true identity, or let herself be seen by the likes of them.”

“That is why I am sending you as well, my loyal servant,” the old man said.

“Even if you do get her back, it won’t be like it was before,” Zuvox said.

“I know that!” the old man said angrily, turning to face the creature.  With an obvious effort he mastered himself.  “She is special,” he said.  “We need her.  Long have I waited for one of my children to return.  We cannot afford to miss this opportunity.  Find her, Zuvox.  Guide the twins to where she is, and help them bring her to me.”

The spider made a halting bow.  “As you command.”  It stepped back and shimmered, its form blurring until a moment later a large raven was there.  It hopped awkwardly; in this form too, it was missing a leg.  It turned around and spread its wings, launching itself into the air.  Within a moment it was gone.

The old man remained in the dank chamber for a few moments longer.  He raised his hand and summoned the glowing image of the woman once more.

“You will be mine again, my dear one,” he said.  Then he let the image fade and strode out from the room.


----------



## carborundum

Ended on a true cliffhanger. All the best on the NaNoWriMo!


----------



## Lazybones

I finished my NaNoWriMo story (_The Graves Crew and the Magical Forest_ came in just over 55,000 words), so I'll resume posting _Forgotten Lore_ next week. Need to go back and reread some to get back into the flow of the story.


----------



## carborundum

Congratulations! Did you say the Graves Crew? As in, your Rappan Athuk party?


----------



## Lazybones

No, this is a series of novella-length stories about a crew of gravediggers who get into all kinds of unexpected trouble. This year's NNWM book was the fifth in the series. 

The first one is a free download if anyone is interested: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/693637.

I did turn the first part of my Rappan Athuk story into a novel, but I never published it. Even with all the changes I made it was too dependent on the IP of the former Necromancer Games. But I occasionally hear feedback that suggests that folks are still reading it, and it's still on the front page of the Story Hour forum. I've written tons since then but it remains one of my favorite stories.


----------



## carborundum

Yeah, it was the first one of yours I read. Took me a few weeks and helped me through many train journeys 

Graves Crew, Dungeon of Graves...got the two mixed up a bit


----------



## Lazybones

And we're back!

* * *

Chapter 227

The Arreshian caravel _Wavefarer_ carved through modest seas, its sails filled with a strong following breeze.  Ahead of the ship was a green island, its features taking on definition as the vessel drew nearer.  A solitary peak rose up from the center of the island, and two juts of land extended from around an enclosed harbor as if to welcome the new arrivals.  A city of considerable size rose from the inner edge of that harbor, its clean while buildings ascending onto the sides and summits of the hills that surrounded the bay.

Xeeta stood alone on the raised foredeck of the _Wavefarer_, staring at that slowly-approaching cityscape.  She was resolved, and did not feel any doubts about her decision as the familiar landmarks became visible, but that did not ease the roiling uncertainty in her gut or the grim scenarios that constantly played out in the back of her mind.

A creak of wood alerted her to the presence of others behind her.  She didn’t need to look back; she could already distinguish the feel of her friends from others, either the disinterested ambivalence of the crew or the wary deference from Kalasien and his men.  Their presence felt like a balm that eased some of the turmoil she felt.  That alone was enough of a confirmation of her decision to return.

She didn’t turn around until they came to stand at the rail beside her.  Bredan remained back a step, twining his arm around one of the lines that supported the foremast.  Glori, on the other hand, fearlessly joined Xeeta at the very front of the ship, leaning out so that the spray that the bow tore from the waves flashed over her features.  “I know a few individuals who will be quite happy to see this part of the voyage come to an end,” she said.  “Are you okay?”

Xeeta nodded.  “I never thought I’d be back here again,” she said.

“We’ll only be here long enough to make contact with Kalasien’s friends, and find a Syvalian ship and crew willing to take us to Weltarin.”

“I wish we could stay with the _Wavefarer_,” Bredan said.  “No offense, Xeeta…”

“Arienne,” Glori interjected.

“Right.  Anyway, after all you’ve told us about Syvalian society, and its sailors in particular, it seems like a long shot to find a captain we can trust.”

“Your caution is wise,” Xeeta said.  “Most Syvalian captains aren’t far off from pirates.  In some cases, literally; many do a bit of piracy on the side.  In Li Syval it’s seen as a patriotic duty, to help ensure Syvalian dominance of the seas.”

Bredan frowned.  “That proves my point, then…”

“That’s all true, but they know the Deep, Bredan.  No non-Syvalian ship has ever made the Weltarin crossing, as far as I am aware.  Though few captains are willing to attempt the journey these days.”

“They gave up most of their colonies on the other continent, didn’t they?” Glori asked.

Xeeta nodded.  “Yes.  During the initial decades of exploration and discovery, there was a lot of talk of riches and new lands, even some who talked about a new Syvalian Empire to rival the Mai’i.  But that ran up against the hard reality.  Weltarin is halfway around the world, and even Syvalian ships make the journey only with great difficulty.  The islands where they initially landed were sparsely populated and had few resources.  The mainland had more riches, but also harsh terrain, dense jungles and arid deserts that were both hostile to colonists.  That’s not even considering the creatures that lived there, monsters worse than anything we have back home.”

“And there were intelligent races there as well, yes?” Glori prodded.

“Yes.  Strange beings, creatures that we would consider a mixture of animal and man.  All barbarians by our standards, but no less dangerous for it.”

“I take it the initial contacts were not friendly,” Glori said.

“How would you feel, if armed strangers came to your land and started carving out its resources to ship halfway around the world?” Bredan asked.

“I’ve read histories that said there was plenty of blame to go around,” Xeeta said.  “But you’re not wrong.  Most of the Syvalian colonists ended up returning home, but they left behind a lot of blood in their wake.”

Another creak, this one significantly louder, drew their attention to another pair of new arrivals.  This time it was Quellan and Kosk.  The half-orc looked relaxed in a loose shirt.  No amount of preparedness was enough to justify wearing heavy armor at sea, so he’d taken the captain’s suggestion and left it in his quarters.  Kosk wore simple traveler’s clothes, but he looked a little green, and he remained close to the foremast, well back from the ship’s rails.

“Ah, Kosk!” Glori said.  “Finally decided to come up and take in the fine salt air?”

The dwarf muttered something that was probably better left unheard.

“Sea sickness is a common affliction, and plays no favorites by race or gender,” Quellan said.  The half-orc had also had some difficulties adjusting to sea travel, but his innate hardiness had ultimately won out.  Now he looked almost hale as he stepped up to the forward rail to catch his first glimpse of Li Syval.  “Impressive,” he said.

“It’s called the Gem of the Deep,” Xeeta said.  “Lady of the Seas.”

“It looks almost as large as Severon,” Bredan said.

“It’s only about half as large, just going by population,” Quellan said.  At Xeeta’s look he added, “I sought out a few books before we left.”

“Of course you did,” Kosk said.

“The only question is whether we’ll find what we’re looking for there,” Bredan said.

“If a ship heading to Weltarin can be found anywhere, it will be there,” Xeeta said.

“Assuming that Kalasien’s contacts play out,” Kosk said.

“We have no reason to believe they won’t,” Glori said.

“We’ll want to keep a low profile, either way,” Xeeta said.  “You don’t want to attract the attention of the Ruling Council.”

“The city’s set up like the dwarves of Ironcrest, isn’t it?” Bredan asked.  “Merchant guilds in charge of things.”

“Sort of,” Xeeta said.  “The Council consists of the fifty leading families of the city.  The number is set, but the exact participants frequently shift.  As a result, there’s a constant game of houses going on, with plenty of plotting, backstabbing, and the occasional murder.  About half of the population is caught up in it in one way or another, and the rest mostly just try to stay out of their way.”

“We’ll only be here a few days, hopefully,” Quellan said.  “Not enough time to get into trouble with the locals.”

Kosk snorted at that.  “You disagree?” Glori asked.

“When has it ever taken us any time at all to find trouble?” the dwarf asked.

“Well, maybe this time we can avoid it,” Glori said.  She tapped Quellan’s chest, and the sigil there.  “You know, you’ll have to play covert as well.”  Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes when they met his.

“I know,” Quellan said with a sigh.  “I have already prepared a canvas wrap for my shield.

“I have never gone to a place where any of the Triad gods were not worshipped,” Kosk said.

“Laesil is venerated, and worship of Sorevas is tolerated,” Xeeta said.  “But the Syvalians have viewed the church of Hosrenu as a foreign import, ever since an incident related to some missionaries almost a millennium ago.”

“Long memories,” Glori noted.

“You said there aren’t many dwarves here,” Kosk said.  “I’m not wearing a bloody canvas cover.”

“There aren’t many,” Xeeta said, “but Kalasien’s cover should hold, at least for a few days.  As long as we all play our assigned roles.”

“I said I’d wear the bloody clothes,” Kosk said.  “I just hope that bloody fop knows what he’s about.”

“We have no choice but to trust him,” Bredan said.  “Other than… Arienne, he’s the only one of us who has spent time in Li Syval.  And she needs to stay out of sight.”

“But surely no one will recognize her, wearing the amulet,” Glori said.

“No, he’s right,” Xeeta said, reaching up to touch the gemstone at her throat.  “While I can appear as almost anyone using this, it’s an active spell, and radiates magic.  While spellcasting is not forbidden in Li Syval, spellcasters must register with the city authorities.  The law was put into effect after the cult that created me was exposed.  I don’t know if the edict is still in effect, but it would be a needless risk for me to travel in the city.  Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough of Li Syval for a lifetime; I have no desire to go sightseeing.”

“None of us are here to sightsee,” Bredan said.  “Let’s just find Kalasien’s ship and get out of here.”

“Speak of the devil,” Kosk said.  “Here comes one of his dogs now.”

Another man ascended the stairs to the now-crowded foredeck.  He too was clad in simple sailor’s garb, a billowing shirt over loose trousers, but there was no disguising what he was.  Like all of Kalasien’s men, he was a soldier through and through, and growing out their hair and changing their clothes would not conceal that.

“Ho, Haverd,” Quellan said in greeting.  “Come to get a view of our destination?  We’re coming up on the harbor fast.”

The soldier’s expression remained as blank as if it had been chiseled from stone.  “Kalasien says you should all get below before the harbor pilot arrives,” he said.  “We’re to avoid notice by the local authorities when possible.”

Bredan looked out and saw the small vessel that was approaching from one of the towers that flanked the harbor mouth.  He’d missed it earlier, but Kalasien struck him as the sort of man who missed very little.  He lingered for a moment while the others descended from the forward deck.  He gave the approaching city one more look.  He hoped that Kosk was wrong, and that this time they would avoid trouble, and their visit to Li Syval would be uneventful and brief.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 228

The section of docks where the _Wavefarer_ was berthed had ten times the level of activity as the wharf in Colverston, with twenty times the stench.  As Bredan and his companions came up onto the deck of the caravel they were greeted by a wall of noise that rocked them back on their heels for a moment.  From their vantage they could see dozens of ships, most of them only visible as part of a sea of masts that rose up out of the clutter.  People were everywhere: fishermen, merchants, teamsters, stevedores, guards, and hundreds of others whose professions were not immediately discernable.  Palanquins with interiors concealed by hanging curtains wove through the crowd on the backs of muscled bearers, while carts and wagons ventured the apparently impossible task of pushing through the crowd.

Bredan turned to see a massive ship that dwarfed the _Wavefarer_ tied up at the next dock over.  He now understood what Xeeta was getting at earlier; the giant galley made the Arreshian caravel seem like a toy by comparison.

Kalasien grabbed Bredan’s sleeve and pulled him back a moment before a sailor bearing a bolt of cloth would have collided into him.  The warrior sheepishly joined the rest of the group in a temporarily sheltered space in the lee of the aft deck.  “Remember,” Kalasien told them.  “Stay close, don’t wander off, don’t engage with the locals, and above all, don’t talk about our mission where anyone could possibly hear.”

“Who could hear anything over all this?” Glori asked.

“There are people who can read lips,” Kalasien said.  At first the adventurers just looked at him, thinking maybe he was teasing them, but then they noticed that he had deliberately placed himself where no one on the dock could see his face.

“The inn is not far,” he said.  “Rooms have already been arranged, we have a whole wing to ourselves.”

“Won’t that draw notice?” Kosk asked.  The dwarf looked uncomfortable, clad in the plain garb of a common servant.  He was carrying a large chest that supposedly held the samples that the “merchant,” played by Kalasien, had brought to Li Syval to trade.  The Arreshian agent wore a rich doublet with a silk shirt peeking out at the cuffs and collar, and a fur-lined cloak that was gratuitous in the heat slung over one shoulder.  As he made his way to the gangplank, preceded by Haverd, he looked exactly like one of the wealthy merchants Bredan had seen in Severon.

The company made its way slowly into the press of humanity.  Haverd, Elias, and Kavin, playing the part of merchant guards, opened a path for the others to follow.  Though perhaps it was more Quellan’s presence.  The cleric did not push anyone, but people tended to get out of the way when they saw the armored half-orc approaching.

Bredan realized that he should probably join them; he too was supposed to be a guard as part of their cover.  He had put together a scabbard for his sword on the ship, and now wore the heavy weapon slung across his back.  Here there was no need to keep weapons hidden; in fact, it looked like it was better to be obvious.  Many of the people in the crowd were armed, and most of the men who were dressed in finery had at least a few guards close around them, glaring at anyone who got too close to their charges.

Such glares were probably futile; it was impossible to make it through this crowd without being jostled.  Bredan abandoned any thoughts of joining the soldiers and instead focused on two things: keeping up, and keeping his purse.  He remained close to Xeeta and Glori, who were walking in the shadow of the “merchant,” their eyes lowered from the gazes of the men in the crowd.  Kalasien had briefed them all about how to behave in Li Syval, and no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, but Bredan still felt self-conscious as he made his way through the press of humanity that was the city’s docks district.

Fortunately, the inn was as close as Kalasien had promised.  They had only gone a few streets back from the docks, the din still clearly audible behind them, when they came to a sprawling two-story structure that appeared to take up most of a city block.  The weathered sign showed a disconsolate sailor sitting atop a barrel, with the legend under it stating that this was The Seaman’s Lament.

The interior of the inn was comfortable and welcoming.  Twelve long tables dominated the common space, while a row of booths with curtains that could be drawn for privacy stood along the wall to the right.  Directly ahead of them was a curving bar that shone with polish.  Most of the patrons were gathered there.  It was still a bit early for the evening rush, although there were enough customers to keep the two bartenders busy.

“Wait here,” Kalasien said before heading over to greet a stout, balding man who had to be the innkeeper.  He greeted the Arreshian agent like an old friend, though Bredan did not miss the subtle gesture by which a purse changed hands.  The others waited near the door.  A bouncer clad in a leather jerkin stretched tight over his expansive soldiers watched them intently, giving Bredan’s sword an evaluative look.

After a moment Kalasien called them over.  “Our rooms are ready,” he said, leading them toward a staircase near the back of the room.  Apparently, the innkeeper’s effusive welcomes did not extend to the hired help; after giving them a quick look he returned to his regular customers.  Or maybe the coins in the purse had bought them their privacy, Bredan thought.

They made their way up to the topmost floor.  Kosk grunted with the weight of the chest, but none of them offered to help him; they’d agreed they would stay in character whenever they were anywhere someone could see or hear them.

Three hallways extended out from the landing at the top of the stairs; Kalasien led them down one without a pause.  The hall led all the way to the end of the inn, where a small window let in a bright shaft of afternoon sunlight.  Multiple doors led off the hall; Kalasien selected one and led them into a small sitting room.  Several doors led off the room, which was crowded with a small hearth, two couches, and a spacious wardrobe.  Kalasien gestured them all in and then stepped into one of the side-rooms with Elias.

“Cozy,” Bredan said.

“Yeah, apparently Arreshian coin buys only the finest lodgings,” Kosk said as he threw the chest down onto one of the couches.

“Careful,” Haverd said.  He’d closed the hallway door, but stood next to it, his ear pressed close against the wood.

“We all understand the need for caution,” Glori said.  “But how could anyone know who we are, or why we’re here?”

“You’d be surprised what information changes hands in a place like this,” Kalasien said as he stepped back into the room.  The others looked at him in surprise.  Gone was the expensive clock and fancy doublet; now he wore a plain coat in the local style with dark trousers and scuffed boots.  A soft leather cap hung rakishly across his brow, and a pair of daggers jutted out from his belt, the hilts within easy reach.  Even his manner had changed, his stance and bearing altered to match his new attire.

“Get cleaned up, rest, have a meal downstairs, just don’t leave the inn,” Kalasien said.  “I won’t be long.”

“You’re going out?” Bredan asked.

“Of course.  I have to make the initial contact with our friends in the city.  Get comfortable, it may take a day or two before I can set up a meet with a viable captain.  If anyone asks, ‘Master Silas’ is taking his rest after the arduous voyage.  He’ll make an appearance in the common room later tonight.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we all stayed together?” Glori asked.

“The people I’m meeting get nervous with large groups,” Kalasien said.  “And to be honest, you lot sort of stand out.  Don’t worry, I have done this sort of thing before.  And if something does happen to me, there is information hidden in our luggage that can help you; Haverd knows where it is.”

“While I find preparedness admirable, I do not find that entirely reassuring,” Quellan said.

“Can’t do anything about that,” Kalasien said with a shrug.  “Haverd and Kavin will stay here and help keep an eye out.”  With a nod toward Elias he headed to the outer door, the soldier following.

For a moment the five adventurers just stood there looking at each other, then Glori shrugged.  “Well,” she said.  “Anyone hungry?”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 229

Galendra Sond was not content as she sipped her tea and studied the clouds swirling through her window.

The tea was hot, and spiced just the way she liked it.  The room was comfortable and well-furnished.  It was twice the size of her cabin on the _Gull_, with fancier decorations including a pair of gilded lamp-stands and a large brass-bound chest.  A fire burned in the hearth, keeping the chill at bay.  Even without looking outside she could tell that a good blow was coming.  She could feel it.  If she was on the _Gull_ she’d be ordering the crew to secure the ship, even in harbor.

That was it, she supposed.  She missed her ship.  It was less than a mile away, as the crow flew, but she still missed it.  She’d already visited half a dozen times over the last week.  Any further visits would send the message that she lacked confidence in Corgan’s crew at the drydock.  She might have dropped in again despite that, but there was also the possibility that Corgan might ask questions about her debts, and the outstanding lien on the _Gull_.

A knock on the door shook her from those thoughts.  She put the teacup down and took a deep breath to steady herself.  “Enter.”

The door opened and Trev came in.  Her second loomed over her like a giant, but then again, most folks did.  Galendra stood barely three feet tall even in her boots.  That was average for a halfling, but she was the only ship captain in Li Syval of that race.  She was proud of the fact that her diminutive size had never been an issue with any of her crews, at least not after they could see what she could do.

Trev knuckled his forehead in salute.  “They’re here,” he said.

“How do they look?” Galendra asked.

“Suspicious, I’d say.  They have a half-orc and a dwarf that both look like they’ve knocked a few heads in their time, along with a couple of soldiers pretending to be hired men.”

“And the merchant?”

“He has the look, and says the right things, but if he’s not a spy I’ll eat my hat.”

“Of course he’s a spy.  But a fat purse is a fat purse, and doesn’t care what country the coins in it come from.”

“The Ruling Council might not see things that way.”

“The Council doesn’t need to stick its nose into every bit of business that comes before a licensed ship and its crew.  We pay our taxes, and our documents are current.  Or was there something more that gave you pause?”

“I just… Are you sure this is a good idea, Captain?”

“”It’s not like we have a lot of choices right now, Trev.  I can’t even afford to get the _Gull_ out of drydock, let alone pay off our creditors.”

“There are plenty of local contracts…”

“You know as well as I do that any short-term bids I could pull down would only leave us in the same position again once our debts came due.  Then we’d be right back where we are now, only with fewer options.”

Trev looked chagrined.  There were times when she almost forgot how young he was, Galendra thought.  “I’m sorry, Trev.  I didn’t mean to take it out on you.  It’s nobody’s fault… just ill luck.  Laesil’s been having her fun with us, this last year.”

Trev reflexively made the gesture that warded away the baleful gaze of _Ilia Fortuna.  If only it was so easy_, Galendra thought.

“Show our potential customers in,” she said.

Her first impressions confirmed Trev’s evaluation.  The half-orc was impressive, especially clad in a suit of heavy mail, but there was something about him that didn’t quite square with the martial impression he presented.  The same could be said about the dwarf; he certainly had the look of a brawler, but at the same time there was a quiet calm to him that was unique among the various dwarves she had encountered in her travels.  The soldiers were as her second had pegged them, easily marked as what they were.  The merchant might have been convincing, but she doubted that most had those old callouses on their sword-hands.

There weren’t enough chairs at the table for all of them and she didn’t bother to offer any of them to her guests.  If the merchant was put off by the cool welcome he didn’t let it show.  “Captain Sond, a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, offering a polite bow.  “Dalser Pon had nothing but good things to say about you and your crew.”

“Dalser Pon would praise his worst rival if there was a coin in it,” Galendra said.  “On the other hand, I know nothing about you, Master Silas.  Your name is not known in Li Syval.”

“I have not had the pleasure of being able to visit the islands thus far in my humble career,” Silas said.

“From what I understand, your first visit will be brief,” Galendra said.

“Sadly, yes.  Urgent business compels me to seek passage immediately.  We require a vessel that can manage the Weltarin Crossing.”

Galendra had been prepared, but she still had to carefully school her expression to keep from revealing a reaction to the name of the distant continent.  Trev, however, betrayed a more immediate reaction.  “The Crossing is no casual journey, especially for foreigners.  What exactly is that business?” he asked.

Silas kept his attention on Galendra, who waved a hand in acknowledgment.  “It is a valid question,” she said.

Silas did not appear to be concerned.  “Syvalian captains have a reputation for discretion,” he said.  “I understand that my request is… significant, and that such a request commands a premium rate.”

“You ask us to place our ship at considerable risk,” Trev said.  “The Crossing is dangerous, even for a veteran crew.”

Galendra made a subtle nod in his direction.  “It is my second’s job to look out for the safety of my crew,” she said.

“And the captain’s job to look out for their business interest,” Silas said without hesitation.  “I understand your concerns.  These are difficult times, right now, what with the recent downturn in the commodities markets.  There is so much uncertainty in the long-distance trade sector at the moment… challenging times for the owner of a free galley.”

“We Syvalians have a saying,” Galendra said.  “Uncertain times make for business opportunities.”

“We have a similar saying where I am from,” Silas said.

“Where is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Trev asked.

Silas didn’t bother acknowledging the question; he just held Galendra’s eyes with his.  “What’s the cargo?” she finally asked.

“Nine passengers, with luggage.”

Trev looked like he was about to ask a question, but he saw Galendra’s face and held his tongue.

“How long?” she asked.

“A few months,” Silas said.

“That would take us up to the edge of storm season,” Galendra said.  “I don’t want to be stuck at Fort Promise all winter.”

“We can afford to be somewhat flexible,” Silas said.

Galendra’s eyes flicked over to the left.  One of Silas’s men had come further into the room and was examining the map that hung from the wall opposite the window.  It was a quality map, expensive, and while it focused on Voralis it did include the eastern edge of Weltarin as well.  Large parts of the latter portion were blank, especially the inland areas, but at least what was there was accurate, with none of the illustrations of dragons and sea monsters that the general public enjoyed.

For some reason, the young man studying the map drew her attention.  She’d almost missed him earlier, standing in the back of the small company, but there was something about him that alerted her more than any of the others.  He wore an almost comically large sword slung across his back, but she guessed him to be younger even than Trev by a good five or six years.

At the lull in the conversation the young swordsman reached up and pointed to a portion of the map that showed Weltarin.  “What is this place?” he asked.

Galendra’s eyes were sharp; she didn’t need to look closer to see what he was indicating.  There was little more on the map than the squiggle of the coastline; the interior beyond was all blank.  “That is the Black Coast,” she said.  “Not much there except for rocky shores and dense jungle.  The whole continent is unfriendly, but the Black Coast is deadly.  You won’t find any Syvalian captains willing to journey there.”

“One did,” the young man said quietly.

Galendra frowned at that, but Silas quickly stepped in to bring the conversation back to the main point.  “Let’s just focus on getting to Fort Promise, shall we?  You are now familiar with our needs, Captain Sond.  Can the _Golden Gull_ accommodate them?”

Galendra glanced over at Trev; his feelings on the matter were obvious.  She regarded Silas again, but she already knew that she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him.  No doubt he had a list of other captains to meet with.  Most would probably share her reluctance, but then again, most would have more options than she did.  A fact that Silas, or whoever he was, no doubt knew quite well.

“Twenty-five thousand,” she said.  “Twenty percent in advance.”

She had to stifle a grin at Trev’s audible gasp.  Silas and his people betrayed their own reactions, though the merchant himself merely nodded.

“We could almost buy our own ship for that,” the dwarf said.

“Yes,” Galendra said.  “But you would still need a crew.  No doubt you already know that the number of crews that have made the Crossing is small and shrinking.  The _Gull_ is one of only a handful of vessels now in Li Syval that has made the journey.”  _Once,_ she thought, but she left that unsaid.  The memories were still fresh, even five years old as they were.  On her return she’d sworn an oath and made an offering at the Temple of the Lady, but the priests of Ilia Fortuna were always happy to accept a second donation if and when one’s circumstances changed.  Business was business, after all, and it wasn’t as though her luck could get much worse.

Silas pretended to consider, but she could see the truth in his eyes.  Still, he said, “Five thousand is a lot for an advance.”

“I’ll need to hire on more crew,” Galendra said.  “And stock in a full store of provisions.  The Crossing is a five-week journey if we’re lucky, up to twice that if we’re not.  This is the quiet season, but the Deep is fickle even in summer.”

“You won’t find a ship faster than the _Gull_ with Captain Sond at the helm,” Trev said, reasserting his loyalty.

“Indeed,” Silas said.  He produced a small, tightly wound scroll from a pocket of his coat, and handed it over to Trev.  “That should cover the advance,” he said.  “The rest will be transferred to your accounts upon our return.”

“Agreed,” Galendra said.  There would be more paperwork before their departure, documents that had to be prepared, bribes that had to be recorded, but the hard part was over.  She had saved her ship, but instead of relief all she felt was a vague sense of unease.

“How long until you are ready to sail?” Silas asked.

“We’re finishing up a few minor repairs in dry dock,” Galendra said.  “Between that and the other preparations I mentioned, four days.  Will that work for you?”

“It will,” Silas said.  He kissed his fingertips and extended the hand toward her, and after a moment Galendra repeated the gesture, shaking his hand.  “I look forward to a safe and swift crossing,” he said.

It took a minute for the merchant and his company to file out.  When the door was shut and the sounds of them making their way down the steps had faded, Trev turned to her with a look of amazement on his face.  “Twenty-five thousand!  They must really be desperate!”

“Yes.  And desperate people can be counted on to do almost anything, Trev.”  _Like I just did,_ she thought.  “Remember that.”

“Still,” he said.  “That will cover all our debts, and then some.”

“Yes, and all we have to do is sail the Crossing, one more time.”

“I wasn’t with you the last time, but I heard about it from a few of the old hands.”

_The ones that made it,_ she thought.  “They aren’t exaggerating.”

“Well, as you said, we don’t exactly have a lot of options right now.”

“It’s a risk,” she acknowledged.  “You were right about the Ruling Council, earlier.  We will have to be very careful when we file our itinerary, and generous with the filing fee.  But even so, there are no guarantees.  Tobias in particular would be quite happy to see any deal fall through, if it meant he could collect on our lien.”

“We could take the five thousand and sail,” Trev said.

There was a long pause.  Finally, Galendra said, “I will pretend that I did not hear that.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’m sorry.”

She got up from her chair, dropping lightly onto her feet from the comparatively high perch.  Another reason to miss her cabin; the furniture here was always too big for her to be comfortable.  “We’ve got a lot to do,” she said.  “I’ll go cash the writ, and make sure that Corgan gets his payment in full.”  She held out her hand, taking the scroll from Trev.  “You take what’s left of the petty cash and begin looking for new crew.  You know what we need.  We’re not likely to find a lot of Crossing vets these days, but make sure they know what they’re in for.  I don’t want any mutinies on this voyage.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ll see it done.”

“I know you will, Trev.”

She went to get her coat while he left.  She glanced out the window again.  The clouds had thickened and darkened noticeably; it would likely rain before morning.  She paused and considered the scroll in her hand.  It was only a down payment, and it wouldn’t help at all if the _Gull_ ended up shipwrecked on some distant shore or lost within under the vastness of the Blue Deep.  But it represented a future for her and her crew, a future that had seemed nearly impossible scant minutes before.

Yet she couldn’t escape the sudden feeling of dread.  Her eyes traveled up to the map, to the vague lines where the young warrior’s finger had rested a few minutes before.

Breaking an oath to herself, weighed against the loss of her ship.  There was only one decision she could make.

Shaking her head, she tucked the scroll into an inner pocket of her coat and headed downstairs.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 230

Glori sat alone in the common room of The Seaman’s Lament and sipped her wine.  Majerion’s tutelage had included instruction on how to appreciate wine.  This was a fine Siccarian vintage, crisp and fruity, but she was too distracted to give it its due.

She turned her head and scanned the room.  The inn was even quieter than it had been when they’d first arrived in town two days ago.  She was starting to get a feel for the place, and knew it would get busy once the afternoon shift at the docks let out and a small army of clerks, journeymen, and others with the coin to afford the Lament’s prices would descend upon the inn.

For the moment, the dozen or so patrons enjoyed their drinks in peace.  The feel of a quiet common room grated on Glori’s sensibilities, and she was tempted to go up and fetch her lyre, to fill the chamber with music.  But while the gilded instrument fit with her cover as the private player of the “rich foreign merchant,” such a person wouldn’t be playing tunes in a common room.

She turned back to the window and looked out into the street, but couldn’t see much through the streaks of rain that covered the glass.  She was starting to feel stir-crazy from being cooped up here.  She understood why it wouldn’t have been consistent for her to accompany Bredan and the others to meet with the Syvalian captain, and someone needed to stay here with Xeeta, but the forced inactivity was still difficult to deal with.

She’d asked Xeeta to join her for a drink, but the tiefling had refused.  She was likely still distracted by the feelings wrought by her return to her homeland.  Kavin had also turned down her offer.  She suspected that the soldier had orders to make sure that the tiefling did not leave the inn.

She raised her glass to take another sip of her wine, but paused as she heard a sound.  It wasn’t much, just a soft thump that could have been anything, but it still had her rising from the booth.  No one else in the common room had paid it any heed, and the bartender was polishing bottles, unaware or unconcerned.

Telling herself that it was probably nothing—one of the maids had probably dropped something—she headed toward the back of the inn.  She paused to peek into the kitchen.  It was strangely quiet.  The lunch press was well past, and it was hours still until supper, but there still should have been at least someone there.  She could see a large pot atop the stove, where the evening soup was simmering.  It was possible that the cook had just stepped out for a moment, but she could not shake a feeling of unease as she made her way toward the back stairs.

She found Kavin on the landing halfway up between the second and third floors of the inn.  One look at the angle that his head was lying told her that he was dead.  His sword was halfway out of its scabbard, which suggested that his attacker had managed to catch him by surprise.

Glori drew her own sword as she made her way up the stairs.  She now regretted leaving her lyre in her room, but she hummed a few notes under her breath, summoning her magic.

The landing at the top of the stairs was empty.  She made her way carefully to the hallway that led to their rooms.  The door leading to Xeeta’s room was slightly ajar.  The room they shared, where she’d left her lyre when she’d come downstairs.

She continued cautiously ahead, sliding her feet forward to minimize the chance of making any sound.  She reached the door and reached out slowly with her sword, using its tip to push it open further.

The room was empty.

A soft creak from behind caught her attention.  She spun around, but had no time to react as a huge form hurtled down the hallway toward her.  She tried to bring her sword up but before she could get into the stance that Bredan had drilled into her the figure slammed into her.  She was flung backwards.  Noise and light exploded around her as she hit the window.  She felt the jarring cold and the patter of raindrops on her skin before a solid impact blasted away all other conscious thought.

“Miss, are you all right?  Miss?  Miss!”

Glori jolted back to consciousness as abruptly as she’d left it.  She was cold and wet, and lying on her back in what she realized was the side yard of the inn.  There were several people around her, staring at her with looks of concern on their faces.  Her gaze traveled past them, up to the shattered remnants of the window high above from which she’d fallen.

“Xeeta,” she said, and tried to get up.  That proved to be a mistake as her head exploded and her vision swam.  As she tried to refocus her senses she could hear the voices of the bystanders.

“What happened, did she jump?”

“Get the Watch, someone call the Watch!”

“She’s hurt, better get a cleric…”

“I’m fine,” she said.  This time she didn’t try to get up, but focused her thoughts and hummed a melody to summon her magic.  She let out a gasp as the energies of a _cure wounds_ spell poured into her.  Her perceptions cleared, but that brought with it a fresh wave of pain as her remaining injuries reasserted themselves in her awareness.  But it was enough for her to pull herself up.

Bits of wood and fabric clung to her, and she realized she’d landed in a pile of crates.  That had probably saved her life.  If she’d hit the cobblestones just a few steps to the left she probably would have broken her neck.  The bystanders drew back, a few making a reflexive gesture against evil.  _Great_, she thought, remembering Xeeta’s comments about the restrictions on spellcasting in Li Syval.  Well, she would worry about that when the immediate emergency was over.

The innkeeper came rushing out from the side door of the inn.  As his feet crunched on bits of broken glass, he glanced up at the broken window high above the courtyard.  “What happened?” he asked.

“There’s been an attack, someone’s been murdered,” Glori said.  “Better get the Watch.”  She started back toward the inn.  She looked around for her sword, but didn’t see it; it must not have made it through the window with her.

The innkeeper stared at her, a look of horror on his face.  “Where are you going?” he asked.

Glori hesitated in the doorway.  “I have to check on a friend,” she said.

The common room was astir as she made her way back inside.  Someone in the kitchen called out to her as she passed, but she ignored them and once again ascended the stairs.  She summoned her magic again as she hurried up the first flight, further easing her wounds.  Their foe had handled her easily, and now she didn’t even have her sword.  But she couldn’t leave Xeeta if there was even a small chance that she might still be there.  She paused at Kavin’s body and drew his sword from its scabbard.  Thus fortified, she returned to the hall.  The floor there was already damp from the rain that had blown in through the broken window, but there was no one there.

She checked all of the rooms this time.  There was no sign of Xeeta, or of their attacker.  She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, just a vague impression of size and bulk.

Her lyre was sitting where she had left it.  She cradled it in her lap as she slumped onto her bed.  She knew that she was going to have to talk fast very shortly, but for now she just sat on the end of the bed and took a deep, steadying breath.

A man was dead, and one of her friends was gone, taken.  And for the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 231

“It wasn’t your fault,” Quellan said.

“You were lucky that you weren’t killed by the fall,” Kosk said.

“Yeah, lucky,” Glori said.

The reunited companions were in the small private dining room at the back of the inn.  A small fire had been started in the hearth, but it hadn’t yet taken the chill out of the room.  Voices could be heard in the common room, where the officers of the Watch were taking statements from the witnesses who had been present.

Bredan was pacing back and forth.  “You’re sure you didn’t see anything?”

“I’m sorry,” Glori said.  “It all happened too fast.  He was big, and quick.”

The hall door swung open and Kalasien came in.  He didn’t speak until he had closed the door behind him and came over to where the others were gathered.  “I think we have things covered with the Watch, though it took a considerable bribe to convince them to hand over Kavin’s body to us.  I told him that it was a matter of religious ritual.”

“Did you learn anything from him?” Bredan asked Quellan.

“I only had a minute to examine him,” the cleric said.  “But he bore several unusual wounds.  There were two stab wounds, one of which was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Glori asked.

“I didn’t have enough time to determine the nature of the toxin,” Quellan said.  “The other wound was deep.  I found this.”

He held up a small object, which the others crowded around to examine.  It was a small steel blade, lacking a handle but with a thick flange at the base for gripping.

“That looks like a throwing knife,” Kosk said.  “Though I’ve not seen its like before.”

“That’s called a wedge,” Kalasien said.  “A popular weapon of Syvalian assassins.  You have to get fairly close to use it, however.”

“I thought his neck had been broken,” Bredan said.

“That was what ultimately killed him,” Quellan said.  “But that was strange as well.  All around the throat there were these black marks.  As if the skin had been… killed, somehow.”

“Kavin was an experienced veteran,” Kalasien said.  “It would not have been easy to sneak up on him.”

“The guy who pushed me out the window, he was quiet for his size,” Glori said.  “He hid in Quellan and Kosk’s room and came at me from behind.  I wouldn’t have heard him coming at all if the door hadn’t squeaked slightly.”

“We are fortunate that they did not linger to make certain of you,” Quellan said.  He put his hand on her shoulder, and after a moment she reached up to squeeze it.

“Yeah, they didn’t even take my lyre, and it was sitting right there by my bed.”

“They were only interested in Xeeta,” Bredan said.  “We have to find her.”

“We have a mission,” Kalasien said.

“We’re not leaving without her,” Bredan said.

“It’s a big city,” Kalasien said.

Bredan turned to Quellan and Glori.  “You found me in Severon, which is even bigger than Li Syval.  Can you do the same for Xeeta?”

Quellan nodded.  “I have my locating spell, but I will need to rest and pray before I can use it.  And its range is limited.”

“We’ll do our best,” Glori said.

“Do we have any idea who took her?” Kosk asked.

“It was the cult,” Bredan said.  “It has to be the tiefling cult.”

“Didn’t Xeeta and Rodan say they were destroyed?” Glori asked.

“Maybe some of the leaders escaped,” Kosk said.  “As Kalasien said, it’s a big city, plenty of places to hide.”

“We’ll finish the job,” Bredan said.

“If you’re intent on this,” Kalasien said, “I can help.  I have some contacts among the city’s less… savory quarters.  But be careful.  If this draws the attention of the Ruling Council, it could draw trouble down on us that I would be powerless to stop.  In that case the only option would be to run.”

“I understand,” Bredan said.

“Where are Haverd and Elias?” Glori asked.

“They’re getting our things together,” Kalasien said.

“We’re not staying here?” Quellan asked.  “Do you think that the cult will try something else, now that they’ve gotten what they wanted?”

“We should welcome another attempt,” Kosk said.  “Maybe we could catch one of them and make them talk.”

“It’s not the cult I’m worried about,” Kalasien said.  “I’ve paid off the Watch, but there are plenty of other factions who would be interested in what happened here.  Better if we just slip away and not be here in case someone comes around asking questions.  I’ve got another place lined up, one where folks don’t ask strangers with gold any questions.”

“Let’s hope that purse of yours doesn’t run dry,” Kosk said.

“Yes,” Kalasien said, meeting the dwarf’s gaze squarely.  “Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

“We should be looking for her,” Bredan said.  “The longer we wait, the longer the trail has to grow cold.”

“There’s nothing we can do until Quellan prepares his spells,” Glori said.  “We won’t save her by rushing off blindly into a city that we don’t know.”  She rose and put a hand on his arm.  “We’ll find her, Bredan.  I don’t like waiting any more than you.  But we’ll find her.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 232

Xeeta woke in a dank stone chamber.  A foul odor assaulted her nostrils, but the smell was quickly overwhelmed by a sharp spike of pain as she tried to lift her head.  She groaned and tried to get a better look at her surroundings without moving.

It was dark, but her tiefling heritage allowed her to make out details of the chamber.  Not that there was much to see.  There was one exit, a narrow opening in one wall that was warded by a heavy iron gate.  An iron pipe as thick around as her waist emerged from one wall and exited via the opposite.  It was heavily flaked with rust but looked no less solid for it.

She tried again to get up, slowly shifting her hands to support her.  That was when she realized that she was restrained.  That recognition overcame her pain, and she scrambled up, ignoring the angry pulses of protest inside her skull.  She was secured by shackles that linked to a chain that circled around the pipe.  A second chain attached to an iron cuff wrapped tight around her neck.

A guttural sound came from her throat as she yanked hard on the chains.  Panic gave her strength, but the chains were so thick that even Quellan would not have been able to part them with raw strength alone.  The thought of her friends allowed some hint of clarity to slip back into her mind.  She released the chains and turned to her magic.  For a moment she feared that her captors had done something to restrict her powers, but then she felt a surge of relief as the Demon stirred within her.

Her first effort was an _alter self_ spell.  She shifted her form to become taller and leaner.  With an effort she was able to slip the shackles off her wrists, ignoring the fresh pains as the metal edges scraped her skin.  She turned to the band around her neck, but while it had loosened there was no way she could get it over her head.  She pushed the spell as far as she could, until she could feel the bones grinding in her head, but it was no use.  Defeated, she slumped back to the floor, resuming her normal form.

She had no idea how long she sat there like that, but eventually a sound drew her attention up.  It had come from the direction of the gate.  She shuffled as far as the chain would allow her in that direction, but the sound was not repeated.

She slid the loose chain from around the pipe.  The manacles at the ends gave them decent weight, but they would be useless as a weapon if she could not get free of the neck shackle.  She considered pulling the chain taut and striking it with one of the manacles, but realized that the sound of metal striking metal would echo throughout this place.  She suspected that she was somewhere in the sewers under Li Syval.  She had spent some time in those foul tunnels while working for the cult, but she did not recognize this particular location.  With luck, she’d be able to get her bearings once she was out of this cell.

She pulled on the chain and held it tight against the pipe.  She summoned her magic and unleashed a stream of fire against it.  The flames surged against the iron, searing away flakes of rust, filling the room with heat.  Smoke swirled around her but she kept on, sharpening her focus until the fire roared like an angry beast.  The chain and the surrounding pipe began to glow, and she could feel the heat swelling in the hand holding the chain.  She let it go, using just the tension of the manacle around her neck to keep the chain taut.  It was becoming difficult to breathe.  Still she kept up the flame.  She poured everything she had from her reservoir into the assault, until the band around her neck began to sear against her flesh.  She yanked back, trying to part the heated chain, but it held.  She lifted the loose chain to strike, but she hesitated as she felt something else stirring within her.  It was the Demon, called by the swelling of her magic, eager to be set free.

Sudden panic filled her and she released the flames.  She fell to the floor, coughing, trying to ignore the pain of her burned neck.

“Impressive,” came a voice from the grate.  “Truly, you have grown.”

She spun reflexively and hurled a _fire bolt_ that streaked toward the exit.  Her cast had been accurate, but as the burning streak approached the iron bars it suddenly dissolved into nothing.

“Kalev,” she breathed.  “I thought you were dead.”

“I survived,” he said.  “No thanks to you and your friends.”

“I dreamed of your death,” she said.  “I pictured a hundred scenarios where you met the fate you have earned.”

“The circle was broken,” he said, “But I held on, lived on through the long aftermath unleashed by your betrayal.  I knew, you see.  Knew you or one of your escaped kin would return here one day.  You are part of us, and we are part of you.  When I felt you start to draw close, I knew that our hour of rebirth was upon us.”

She recoiled from his words, but forced herself to remain alert, to look for any opening that might present itself.  She could vaguely sense the protective aura that surrounded him, the field that had disrupted her spell.  That was potent magic indeed, and beyond what she remembered from before.  That meant that she could not rely upon her memory of the arcanist’s capabilities.

“The one who hit me,” she said.  “That was Toros, wasn’t it?  He’s still here, with you?”

“Toros, yes, and Vesca as well.  They remained loyal.  They were not ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” she asked.  “How you can use that word without choking on it is a mystery to me.  You tortured us, trained us to be your tools, your weapons.  That was all we were to you.”

“Such a narrow view,” he told her.  “I remember you as always being incapable of comprehending the greater truth, Xeeta.  We birthed you, we brought you into this world.  It was our guidance that helped you to reach your full potential.  Surely you have learned this truth in your time in the world outside Li Syval.  You are superior to the so-called civilized folk of Voralis.  You are Blooded, destined to be rulers of these lands.”

“You call us rulers, I call us slaves.  You cared about us only insofar as we increased your power.”

“You still do not understand, but I see that you will not believe me.  But it does not matter.  Your coming here, it means so much.  Your return will allow the project to be reborn.  I have learned much since the day you left us.  You will help us reach new heights.”

“I will never help you,” she said.

“Why, my dear… you’ve helped so much already, just by coming here.  As for the rest, well, your active cooperation is not necessary.”

Xeeta surged up and pulled hard on her chains, but they still refused to give.  She extended a hand toward the gate, summoning her magic in a vague hope that she could somehow overcome Kalev’s ward.  But he was already spellcasting, and as he held his hand out she could see sand sifting out from between his fingers.  She tried to resist, tried to overcome the magic of his spell, but there was no escape as she slowly slumped to the hard floor and drifted into the cold embrace of sleep.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 233

It was an awful neighborhood, far from the docks and the fresh breeze that came in off the bay.  The houses on the surrounding hills were nicer, far nicer, but those same hills kept the air in the slums hot and stale with an assortment of foul stinks.

There was no one in view as the four companions made their way down a narrow, twisting street, but they could all feel the presence of the hidden eyes that marked their progress.  They hadn’t seen a member of the Watch since they’d entered this maze of sagging buildings and close alleyways.  But they all felt a sense of urgency, alarmed by Kalasien’s elaborate precautions designed to ensure that they remained out of view of the powerful factions in Li Syval.  That was why the Arreshian agent and his men were not with them at the moment; they were making a scene elsewhere, hoping to draw any watching eyes away from the searchers.

Bredan, Glori, Quellan, and Kosk were all armed and fully equipped.  The dwarf again looked uncomfortable in his unaccustomed garb, this time the boiled leather breastplate and dirty tunic of a mercenary warrior on hard times.  A sword hung from his hip, though he had not as much as touched it since he’d put it on.  Bredan considered him as they made their way deeper into the warren of the slum.  Was this how the dwarf had looked back in the days when he’d still been a criminal and bandit?  Was this the true nature of his friend?

“Hey, you with us?” Glori asked.

Bredan flushed and nodded.  She gave him a stern look but then turned away, her own hand resting obviously on the hilt of her sword.  They’d finally found the weapon lying on the bit of roof that jutted out from the bottom story of the inn.  Bredan accepted his admonishment—she was right, this was no place to let one’s mind wander.

Quellan was leading them, moving at a brisk pace.  It would have been more prudent to be cautious, but his spell only lasted ten minutes, not much time to search even part of one of Li Syval’s sprawling neighborhoods.  Many of the streets and alleys in this part of the city twisted back on themselves or came to abrupt dead-ends, a design that might have been deliberate or just the result of centuries of slow but continual growth.  The cleric was already on his third casting.  The first two had failed completely, but this time he had finally gotten a hit, after they’d relocated to the next district on Kalasien’s list of potential locations.  The spell guided the half-orc unerringly toward his goal, but he had no way of knowing how far away the target was.

They turned down a narrow street that could barely accommodate the cleric’s broad shoulders.  That led them to an alley that in turn deposited them into a small courtyard.  The surrounding buildings rose only two stories, but they all seemed to lean slightly into the open space as if considering giving up and collapsing.  All of the doorways and windows that faced into the courtyard were boarded up, and the only distinctive feature was a small well, partially covered by a thick slab of wood, that looked as though it hadn’t seen any use in some time.

Quellan began to circle around, but his attention was quickly drawn to the well.

“There?” Glori asked with a dismal look.  Quellan nodded, his own features equally grim.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s dead,” Kosk pointed out.  “There could be a secret door or something.”

Quellan unslung his shield and mace and handed them to Kosk.  “I should be the one,” Glori said.  “You’ll barely fit down there.”

“I am the one with the spell,” Quellan said.  “I only have another minute or two left, so I must hurry.”

Bredan had already taken a length of rope out of his pack.  He and Kosk quickly rigged it to a post on the edge of the courtyard that looked like it could take the cleric’s weight.  Quellan pulled the lid of the well aside and peered down into it.  A nasty odor rose from inside, but he didn’t hesitate as he clambered up over the lip and dropped into the shaft.

The others gathered around, careful of the taut rope.  They could hear a splash as the cleric reached the bottom of the well.  “You okay?” Glori called down.

“It’s not deep,” Quellan said.  “It’s a bit of a mess.  Give me a moment.”

The others shared a look as they listened to the cleric probing through the cistern.  A minute passed, and then two.  Finally, Quellan called, “Pull me up.”

With Bredan and Kosk pulling on the rope it only took a few moments for Quellan to rejoin them at the top.  He was covered in slime, and the foul odor of the well surrounded him.  “Well, we don’t have to worry about any locals bothering us now,” Kosk said.

“Anything?” Bredan asked, as Glori helped Quellan up over the rim of the well.

In response, the cleric held up his hand.  A small object caught the light and gleamed in his hand.

“Xeeta’s amulet,” Glori said.

“She’s not down there,” Quellan said.

Bredan sagged against the edge of the well.  “Now what do we do?” he asked.


----------



## carborundum

Oooh, tricky! Naughty, naughty kidnappers!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Oooh, tricky! Naughty, naughty kidnappers!



Oh, it gets worse...

* * * 

Chapter 234

When Xeeta woke she was being carried down a dark corridor.  She was facing the floor, her arms held behind her back and a gag drawn tight over her mouth.  She instinctively started to struggle, but the hands gripping her might as well have been steel bands for all the good that did.

A moment later a face dropped into her line of sight.  She recognized instantly the mousy features of Vesca.  “Aware, are we?” he chortled.  “You might have preferred it had you remained unconscious.”

She tried to respond, but the gag only allowed a muffled groan.

The twins—for it had to be Toros carrying her—took her through an arch into a broad chamber.  The place had obviously once been a sewer interchange.  Gaping and empty pipes were still visible around the perimeter of the hexagonally-shaped room.  A faint distant tapping sound was audible, but the place was otherwise quiet.

Kalev was waiting for them upon a raised platform in the center of the room, surrounded by a shallow trench that connected to several of the pipes.  Toros lifted her over it easily, while Vesca leapt up onto a protruding pipe and used it as a springboard to hop over.

The surface of the platform was discolored, with faint outlines that suggested that there had once been machinery of some other large object present.  Now the space had been cleared except for a softly glowing circle marked in silver runes upon the floor.  On seeing those Xeeta began to struggle again, desperate to avoid being placed inside that circle, but Toros only shifted and plopped her unceremoniously to the ground a pace from its outer edge.  The giant’s hand remained on her shoulder, anchoring her in place.

Kalev came around the circle toward them.  He had covered his usual rags with a faded robe that still bore hints of its past finery.  Over that he had put on a stole that bore markings similar to the ones that formed the magic circle on the floor.

“Child, the time has come to begin our rebirth,” Kalev said.

As he started to bend toward her, she started to struggle again.  The old arcanist clicked his tongue impatiently and said, “Hold her.”

Hands gripped her head, holding her in place.  Her eyes grew wide as Kalev produced a small knife and a bowl from under his robe.  Held and gagged as she was there was nothing she could do as he leaned in and cut her skin just below her right ear.  She could feel the blood that trickled down over her jaw to be caught in the bowl.  To her it felt like her strength was draining out of her.

Finally, Kalev drew back.  Xeeta could see that the bowl was nearly full, glistening with her blood.  He made a gesture and she could feel a rag or something similar pressed roughly against the side of her head.  Vesca tied it off and then drew back, wagging his thin fingers at her as he stepped to the side.

Kalev returned to the other side of the circle and placed the bowl upon the floor next to it.  He knelt and spread his arms wide, the sleeves of his robe sliding back to reveal long, emaciated arms.  He stared up at the ceiling and began an incantation.  The guttural syllables echoed back weirdly through the mouths of all of the empty pipes, adding to the cacophony.  Xeeta could feel the power building, an echo of what she carried inside her, though the Demon remained quiescent as the ritual built to a crescendo.  Toros had loosened his grip on her, but she found that she could not look away.

Kalev finished his grim chant.  He reached down and flung the contents of the bowl into the circle.  The blood was caught in mid-air, spinning into a spiraling vortex, though the air inside the chamber remained utterly still.  The crimson tornado continued to tighten around the center of the circle until there was a loud flash that briefly blinded Xeeta.  Blinking, she tried to clear the pulsing afterimages from her vision.

When she could see again, the circle was no longer empty.  A muscled, naked figure lay upon the bare stone.  The blood was gone, and the runes of the circle were now barely visible.  The figure groaned and slowly pushed himself up.  As he did, Xeeta recognized him and a sense of horror clutched at her gut.

He turned around and looked at her.  She could see the feelings she held echoed in his eyes as he realized what had happened, where he was.

“What… what have you done…” he said.

Xeeta couldn’t speak, but in her eyes she tried to send the message, _I’m sorry!_

“Xeeta…” he said.  He turned and for the first time saw Kalev.  The old man had sagged back, obviously exhausted by the strain of the ritual, but there was a hint of triumph in his eyes as well.  “Welcome back to Li Syval, Rodan.”

“No…”

Kalev made a gesture and Toros lumbered forward into the circle.  Xeeta tried to get up, to somehow intervene, but she felt drained as well, and Vesca was easily able to intercept her and hold her down.  Rodan also tried to escape, but his legs collapsed under him when he tried to get up.  He swung at Toros as the big tiefling reached for him, but the brute merely took the blow and pulled the prisoner up into a pinning embrace.

Kalev hobbled slowly over to them.  “We will let you children recover your strength a bit,” he said.  “Then we can truly begin.”

Xeeta tried to scream, but all that made it past the gag was a gurgling hiss.


----------



## carborundum

Hmmm, I'll need to go back and re-read her story. That's her...brother?


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Hmmm, I'll need to go back and re-read her story. That's her...brother?




Rodan was the tiefling ranger they allied with in the Silverpeak Valley, and yes, both were siblings raised by the cult in Li Syval. 

* * * 

Chapter 235

Spectral lights floated forward through the air, shedding light on the empty chambers of the long-abandoned complex.  The somber sounds of Glori strumming on her lyre, maintaining the _dancing lights_, seemed a fitting accompaniment in this forbidding place.

“This place is empty,” Kosk said, kicking a piece of loose debris.  “No one’s been here in years.”

Glori sent her magical globes further ahead, brightening the next pair of hallways ahead.  “Kalasien paid another hefty bribe to get us access to this place,” she said.  “We might as well give it a thorough look while we’re here.”

“You really think that the cult left behind a clue that the local authorities would have missed?” Kosk asked.

“It won’t take long to confirm,” Quellan said, with a sidelong look at Bredan.  He didn’t need to voice the subtext that they all understood.  _We don’t have any other options_.

But Kosk’s statement seemed borne out as they continued their exploration of the chambers that had once served as the headquarters of the infernal cult that had once clung to the underbelly of Li Syval.  The entrance that Kalasien’s bribe had unsealed had been within a stone’s throw of some of the finer properties of the city’s elite.  Several of the leading families had been implicated in the activities of the cult, drawn by promises of wealth, secrets, and power.  Those families had been cast down and replaced by up-and-comers as part of the never-ending churn that shaped the ruling class of the trading city.

Everything of value had been taken from the complex when the cult had finally been exposed years ago, but there was plenty of detritus that remained.  Signs of the violence that had consumed the place in its last days were everywhere: old stains on the walls and floor, scraps of torn cloth, fragments from shattered furniture.

The companions spread out, careful to remain within visual or hailing distance.  They didn’t find anything worth sharing, but each faced their own moments of revelation during the search.  Quellan bent to pick up a child’s doll, little more than a collection of stitched-together rags, and stared at it for over a minute before he tucked it into his pouch.  Kosk likewise lingered in a brick vault that had a dozen rusty iron cages built into the walls.  Glori found a hole in the floor that she explored with one of her _dancing lights_, but recoiled when the glowing orb revealed that it was full of tiny bones.

Bredan made his way through a narrow doorway that appeared to lead into a larger chamber, but which dead-ended at a curving alcove.  There were marks on the walls to suggest that objects had once rested there, but the place was now empty.  The walls of the alcove were covered with markings in a strange script, marks that glinted faintly as the warrior lifted his lamp to examine them.

The language was not familiar, but there was something that tickled at the edges of his understanding.  It looked as though there had been more writing at one point, but someone had taken a chisel to part of the wall, hacking away the marks.  There was no way of knowing why he had stopped part-way, or what the remaining writing signified.

He was about to turn away and depart when he thought he saw a slight shift of movement out of the corner of his eye.  But when he turned back, nothing had changed.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he said.  He kept his voice low so that it would not travel beyond the alcove.  “I’m not leaving Li Syval without her.  Do you understand?  I know you have something planned for me.  But I’m not leaving without Xeeta, so if you can help me in any way, you’d better do so.”

The only response he got was a sound of footsteps in the passage outside.  A moment later Quellan stuck his head into the space.  “Bredan?  Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Bredan said.  “Myself.”

Quellan squeezed into the alcove and stared at the writing.  “This is written in the Infernal script,” he said.

“Can you understand it?”

“No.”  Quellan looked at him strangely.  “Can you?”

“It’s gibberish to me,” Bredan said.  But he did not look away from the writing.

“None of the others have found anything,” Quellan said.  He watched Bredan, a look of unease growing on his features.

“Hello?” came Glori’s voice from the corridor.

“We’re in here,” Quellan said.

The bard appeared, though there was hardly enough room for her to join them in the tight confines of the alcove.  “We shouldn’t get separated.  Kosk found what looks like it might have once been a tunnel into the sewers, but it’s been thoroughly sealed.  Nothing there but years of dust.”

“That’s probably how they got around without being detected,” Quellan said.

Glori nodded toward Bredan, mouthing a silent question.  Quellan shook his head.

“We won’t find anything here,” Bredan said.

“So this was a dead-end,” Glori said.

“Perhaps not,” Bredan replied.  “I have a hunch.”

“A hunch?” Quellan asked.

“Call it intuition,” the warrior said.  “Get Kosk.  We may not have much time.”


----------



## Lazybones

Happy holidays to my readers, I hope that the season is fun and stress-free for you all. 

* * * 

Chapter 236

Xeeta had no idea how much time had passed since her last visit to the ritual chamber.  Her captors had force-fed her, and whatever they’d given her had obviously been drugged.  She had a vague idea that she’d been there for a few days at least.  The hope that her friends would find her was fading under a crushing weight of despair.  It was the memory of Rodan’s face that wore most heavily upon her.  She hadn’t seen him since that brief initial contact, and had no idea where Kalev was keeping him.  During one of the more lucid moments she’d screamed herself hoarse within her cell, but no one had heard, or at least no one who cared.

This time, as she stirred to the sensation of being carried once more, she did not struggle.  Instead she pretended to be unconscious and saved her strength for whatever desperate chance her captors might give her.

The contents of the ritual chamber had been revised during the interval since her last visit.  The circle on the floor had been inscribed again, larger this time, almost a full ten paces across.  She tried not to dwell on what that might mean.  The faint light coming from the runes was augmented by a few dozen small candles scattered around the edges of the central platform and elsewhere within the chamber, some resting on pipes or niches in the stone walls.  The burning wax filled the place with a cloying scent that made Xeeta’s head start to swim within moments.

They were not the first to arrive.  Kalev was there, standing in the shadows, draped in his elaborate costume.  A limp form lay slumped on the far side of the circle.  Xeeta resisted the instinct to call out to him.

Toros carried her to a spot opposite the unconscious Rodan.  As they drew close Xeeta could see that there had been another addition: an iron eyelet bolted to the floor.  A set of manacles was attached to it.  Vesca scurried ahead of it and gathered up the chain.

On seeing that, Xeeta made her move.  She shifted and with all her strength jammed her elbow into Toros’s face.  The impact sent a hard jolt of pain up her arm, and the hulking tiefling grunted.  His grip loosened only slightly, but she was able to get her other arm up enough to loosen her gag.  She sucked in a breath and prepared to unleash a spell, but before she could manage to summon her magic Toros lifted her and slammed her bodily to the floor.  The impact knocked the air from her lungs and likely cracked a few ribs.  She tried to fight through the pain, to do _something_, but even as flames began to flicker around her fingertips a hard jolt blasted through her head and she lost the spell.

Still dazed, she was barely able to register Vesca’s leering face above her own.  “Naughty, naughty,” he said.

“Don’t do this,” she said.  “You don’t have to do this, he’s just using you…”

Vesca only sneered, and yanked her gag back over her mouth.

“Bind her,” Kalev said.  Working efficiently together, the twins secured her wrists with the manacles.  When Xeeta finally recovered enough to move all she could do was yank helplessly on the chain holding her.  It was just long enough to keep her from reaching the edge of the circle, she noted.

Vesca went over to Kalev, and then went around the circle, placing a small bowl at each of the four cardinal directions.  Xeeta didn’t realize what the other two were for until the twins took up spots opposite each other, perpendicular to the axis formed by herself and Rodan.  Even then she could not quite believe it, not until Kalev drew his small knife and walked over to Toros.

“Through blood we offer sacrifice, and seek intercession for the greater mandate,” the old man said.  The big tiefling meekly tilted his head to the side and offered no resistance as Kalev cut him and filled the bowl.  He placed it on the floor on the very edge of the circle of silver runes.

The same process was repeated with Rodan and Vesca.  Rodan appeared to be either drugged or unconscious, for he did not react to the procedure.  Xeeta tensed, ready to fight as soon as Kalev was within reach, but the arcanist paused with the final bowl.  Holding her with his eyes, he spoke a word of magic.  Xeeta blinked… and realized that the bowl was in front of her, presumably filled with her blood.  She could feel the fresh pain on the side of her head but had no memory of the incision being made or the blood being collected.  Kalev was already halfway back around the circle.  She lashed out with her foot, trying to knock the bowl over, but again her captors’ preparations proved effective; it was just out of her reach.

Kalev selected a spot halfway between Rodan and Vesca and began to chant.  Again Xeeta felt the potency in the otherwise meaningless syllables, and the eerie reverberations as they echoed back through the pipes.  Again she felt the power likewise stir inside of her, touching the Demon.  She recoiled from that touch, though there was nothing she could do; with her arms bound behind her she could not loosen her gag, and without her voice and her hands she could not summon her magic.

The ritual continued, longer this time, building to some dread purpose.  Xeeta could only stare helplessly at the circle and its master.  The blood in the bowls began to bubble, and vapors rose from each, a visible tendril that swirled in the air as if dancing to the cadence of the chant.  Vesca and Toros knelt passively, watching.

After an interminable stretch of time Xeeta became aware of something else, a flapping of wings like those of a bat.  She looked around but saw nothing.  Kalev apparently heard it too, for he paused in his chant and looked up with irritation on his face.  The tendrils of blood-vapor ceased their motion, and the power already gathered in the circle froze.

“I told you, no interruptions,” Kalev hissed.

A figure materialized in mid-air, the source of the sound Xeeta had heard.  She recognized it: an imp, the size of a small dog, its features hideous.  It appeared to be missing one leg.

“Intruders, Master.  Four of them, bearing magic.  They come this way.”

Kalev’s gaze shifted to meet Xeeta’s eyes, and she tried to hide the look of triumph she suddenly felt.  But the old wizard quickly recovered.  “Take Vesca and Toros.  Delay them.  I need several more minutes to complete the ritual.”

The imp bowed and disappeared again.  The twins rose silently and departed.  Xeeta turned as much as her bonds allowed her, but they quickly left her view.

When she turned back, Kalev was watching her again.  “Your friends will arrive only to find that death awaits them,” he said.

He resumed his chant, the power surging again to meet his call.  Xeeta could only clutch the chain and hope with all her might.  _Hurry!_ she thought.


----------



## carborundum

Happy Christmas, Lazybones!


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Happy Christmas, Lazybones!




Thanks!

* * * 

Chapter 237

The sewers under Li Syval were hardly a pleasant place to explore, especially when traveling through them in a hurry, Glori thought.  Her nose furrowed as she stepped in something that squelched unpleasantly under her boot.  At least they weren’t having to wade through raw sewage anymore.  This part of the sewers seemed to see less common use.  She wasn’t exactly sure where they were, as they’d also left behind the manholes and access grates that had allowed brief flickers of light and fresher air to filter down from the city above.

She didn’t have any time to shake her boot clear of the clinging foulness.  Bredan continued to lead them forward at a brisk pace.  He was obviously being drawn by something, for he hardly paused at the intersections they came to.  Glori was barely able to keep her _dancing lights_ ahead of him to brighten the way, but she doubted he would stop even if they did fall behind.

He hadn’t explained fully how he knew where to go.  None of them had been down here before, and Glori hoped with all her being that this would be their last visit.  Quellan had seemed particularly disturbed when Bredan had first revealed his special insight in the abandoned cult safehold.  Obviously, he’d discovered a new power, but with Xeeta in jeopardy all they could do was trust him.

That trust was not blind, however.  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Kosk growled.  The dwarf had not been happy about entering the sewers, but he was having an easier time of it than Quellan, who had barely fit into some of the passages they’d had to navigate earlier.

“She’s here,” Bredan said, his voice barely reaching them as he pressed forward.  “I know she’s here.  There’s not much time.”

“At this pace, we won’t see an ambush or any traps until we’ve already sprung them,” the dwarf pointed out quietly as they hurried after the warrior.

“We have to have faith,” Quellan said.

“You know I’d do anything for her, but I’d feel better if we had Kalasien and his men with us,” Kosk said.

“Whatever’s guiding him, it may be limited, like my spell,” the cleric suggested.

“Or it’s telling him that Xeeta’s time is running out,” Glori said.

Bredan had paused just ahead, and the others hurried to catch up with him.  Where he was standing the narrow passage they’d been following opened onto a larger chamber.  There were multiple exits, including some slits near the ceiling that might have been wide enough to crawl through, if one could get up there.  There was also a shaft in the center of the floor, an opening about six feet across that dropped into darkness beyond the range of Glori’s magical lights.

“Which way?” Quellan asked.

“Listen,” Bredan said.

They all held themselves still, and a moment later a faint sound reached their ears.

“Chanting,” Kosk said.  “Damn it, I knew there would be another wizard at the end of all this.”

“There’s something else,” Quellan said.  “There’s something here… a shadow, a power of darkness.”

“Xeeta’s in trouble,” Bredan said.  He headed into the chamber, giving the hole in the floor a wide berth as he headed toward one of the other passages.  Quellan was just a few steps behind, followed by Kosk and Glori.

But they’d barely started moving again when Glori felt a sharp pain explode in her back.  She cried out and staggered, her _dancing lights_ flickering out.  The others turned toward her, Quellan summoning _light_ that shone brightly from his shield.  As the glow pushed back the resurgent darkness it revealed a small form that fluttered up into one of the dark openings near the ceiling.  They couldn’t clearly make out what it was, but a sinister chuckle issued from that direction.

A moment later, Quellan grimaced in pain, his back arching.  His companions could see a small blade buried in his neck, perfectly embedded in one of the gaps between the heavy plates that made up his armor.  He tried to pull the knife out but could not reach it.

Even as Kosk and Bredan looked for the source of that attack, a third enemy materialized out of the darkness of the passage they’d been heading for.  Bredan sensed something and spun to face it, his sword appearing in his hands.  But the figure that rushed forward was incredibly fast for its size, lunging inside of the reach of the swordsman before he could bring his weapon to bear.  With a powerful chop of one hand he cracked Bredan in the wrists, knocking the sword from his grasp.  He didn’t stop there, seizing the warrior and pulling him into a neck-lock from behind.  Bredan was strong, his physical prowess having only grown since his days as a blacksmith, but the tiefling handled him as he if he was a child.  Bredan snarled as the grip around his neck tightened, the flesh under his helm darkening and cracking as Toros’s _divine fury_ was unleashed into him.

Kosk quickly moved to help his friend, but the tiefling was not yet done.  As the dwarf rushed toward him he took two steps to the side and spun Bredan out of his grasp.  The warrior tried to seize hold of something but the momentum of his fall launched him into the pit, which quickly swallowed him up.  The tiefling dropped back into a ready stance that echoed Kosk’s.

“Bredan!” Glori cried.

“Time to die,” came a thin voice from above, its source muffled by the echoes off the ancient stonework.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 238

Kosk launched himself at the huge tiefling, spinning in mid-air to deliver a powerful kick.  But Toros pivoted smoothly out of the way, chopping out with a meaty fist to catch the dwarf in the back.  Somehow Kosk intercepted the blow, deflecting the strike with his own hand, then using the momentum of the impact to pivot to another kick as he landed.  Again Toros dodged, and took only a glancing hit to the meat of his thigh instead of the bone-snapping strike that the monk had planned.

Respectful now of each other’s talents, the two foes circled each other for a moment before they simultaneously launched another series of attacks.

“Quellan, lean down!” Glori yelled, strumming her lyre to summon her magic as she rushed forward.  The cleric obeyed, dropping to one knee while he raised his shield toward the dark niche where he assumed the attack that had wounded him had originated.  Glori yanked the knife out and dropped it to the floor, where it bounced with a loud clank.  Even as blood spurted out from the nasty wound, she pressed her hand against it and poured the healing energy of a potent _cure wounds_ spell into him.

But before they could search out Quellan’s attacker, they were engulfed in a globe of magical _darkness_.

Toros was clearly expecting that development, for as the light vanished he sprang forward, arms sweeping out toward his foe.  One beefy hand closed on Kosk’s arm, and he grunted in pain as jolts of searing necrotic energy shot up the limb.  But as Toros tried to pull him into a grapple the monk twisted his body and drove a powerful punch into his opponent’s gut.  The tiefling released his grip and staggered back.

Wary of the nearby pit and careful of blundering into the adjacent melee, Glori and Quellan remained where they were.  “Can you dispel this?” Glori asked.

“I could, but I did not prepare the necessary spells today,” Quellan returned.  “Hold a moment, and I will heal your injury.”  A moment later she felt his touch, and the reassuring potency of another _cure wounds_.

“We have to help Kosk and Bredan,” she said.

“We won’t help them by getting ourselves…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his statement.  The cleric cried out in pain.

“Quellan!” Glori cried.

The _darkness_ abruptly vanished, leaving behind a more normal darkness that both Glori and Quellan could defeat with the special vision granted by their racial heritage.  But neither had time to look around before Quellan was hit again, this time by another blade that found the gap in his armor under his shield arm and plunged deep into his side.  He staggered and dropped to one knee, only the relentless endurance of his orcish blood keeping him upright at all.

Glori immediately turned to his aid, but as she came around him she saw a repulsive, bulbous spider clinging to the side of his helmet.  She let out a reflexive shriek but quickly slashed out with her sword, knocking the creature clear.  It dropped heavily to the floor a foot away.  She tried to stab it again, but it managed to dodge and skitter awkwardly away, even though it seemed to be missing a few limbs.

A hiss of steel on leather drew her attention around.  She turned to see a second tiefling, a bent, wiry figure of a man whose grin revealed a mess of uneven yellow teeth.  “Your friend, he no look so good,” he hissed, as he lifted a slender shortsword with a curved blade.

While his companions battled Vesca and Zuvox, Kosk was having his own troubles against Toros.  Their fight continued as the _darkness_ lifted, the dwarf’s staff proving to be little advantage against his foe’s raw strength and stamina.  The hulking bruiser absorbed blows that would have crippled a normal man, while his own counters had left the monk’s skin blackened and oozing.  Thus far Kosk had avoided being caught in a bear-hug that might have snapped even his sturdy bones, but he knew that even one misstep might be enough to cost him this battle.

Finally, Kosk ducked under another powerful swing and jammed his staff hard into his adversary’s solar plexus.  Toros grunted in pain, but his eyes flashed red and a moment later the monk was engulfed in the searing flames of a _hellish rebuke_.  The unholy fire overcame his already ravaged body, and he slumped to the ground, dazed.

Glori, battling Vesca on the other side of the chamber, was finding out that the smaller tiefling had tricks of his own.  He rushed at her, moving in an odd, halting motion that had the sharp edge of his steel darting at her from unexpected angles.  She took a glancing hit to her shoulder that drew blood through her mail shirt.  She gave ground, retreating almost to the edge of the pit in the center of the room.

The tiefling sprang at her, intent on pushing her over, but she met his rush with a sharp parry that had the ring of steel on steel bouncing off the walls.  With her free hand she suddenly lashed at her lyre, unleashing a _thunderwave_ that drove her foe back several steps.  It was clear then that her retreat had not been an accident, but had allowed her to get clear of the still-dazed Quellan.  Vesca drew back his teeth to reveal his awful smile.  “Tricksy, tricksy,” he said.  He reached behind his back with his free hand to draw a slender blade from a hidden scabbard, while waving his sword to draw his opponent’s eye.

But even as the assassin unleashed his surprise attack, a beam of radiant energy slashed into him.  Quellan’s _guiding bolt_ did not hurt the tiefling seriously, but the sparkling motes of holy light threw off his aim, and his knife flashed harmlessly past Glori’s head.  Vesca’s eyes flashed red as he fixed his stare upon the cleric.  Quellan could tell what was coming and raised his shield, but even magically enhanced wood and steel could not protect him from the tiefling’s _hellish rebuke_.  Much as his brother had taken out Kosk with that fiery pulse, the flames overwhelmed Quellan and drove him to the ground, unconscious and dying.

The odds had shifted back to the tieflings’ favor, but Quellan’s distraction had left an opening that Glori was quick to exploit.  As the cleric fell, she lunged and drove her sword deep into Vesca’s body.  The tiefling hissed and retreated, pulling himself off her blade, but before he could get clear she followed with a sharp slice that blurred through the air.  It looked as though she had missed, and for a moment the two adversaries faced off.  Then Vesca reached up to his throat, where a torrent of fresh red suddenly poured down over his coat.

Even as Glori turned the tables on her foe, Toros was stepping forward to finish his.  Kosk tried to get up, but only managed to stagger and fall back to his knees.  But even as the tiefling’s massive hands came up a figure erupted out of the pit.  Bredan’s magically-enhanced _jump_ barely cleared the edge of the pit, but he grabbed hold of the edge and pulled himself over the rim.  As he rolled into a crouch, he extended his hand and summoned his sword into his grasp.

“We have unfinished business, you and I,” he said to Toros.

The tiefling turned from his fallen foe and rushed him, intent on driving him back into the pit through sheer strength.  But this time Bredan was ready, and summoned a magical _shield_ that absorbed the force of the tiefling’s strike.  Toros quickly darted back, but the barrier dissolved as Bredan swept through it, his sword carving the air between them.  The steel clove through the giant’s torso, laying out a slash of blood and viscera that formed a six-foot arc upon the stone floor.  For a moment it looked as though even that would not stop the barbarian warrior, but then he suddenly wavered and then collapsed.

Bredan quickly knelt at Kosk’s side.  He kept an eye on the fallen tiefling, but Toros did not stir as his blood poured out from the terrible wound in his side.  On the other side of the room, Glori was already helping Quellan with a healing spell.

Bredan did not have any magical healing, but he felt a surge of relief as he saw that the dwarf was still breathing.  He turned toward Glori, but before he could say anything a terrible and familiar scream sounded through the same passageway that Toros had emerged from.

“Take care of them,” Bredan said to Glori as he started toward the passage.

“Bredan, wait,” she said.  Quellan groaned as her _cure wounds_ spell took effect, drawing him slowly back to consciousness.  “Wait!”

But he was already gone.  Biting back a curse, she hurried over to Kosk, preparing another spell to pull the dwarf back from death’s door.


----------



## Lazybones

Happy New Year!

I will be traveling for the rest of this week. I will bring my flash drive, but if I am unable to find a computer I may not be able to post until Monday.

Today's post marks the end of Book 9 of the story. Book 10 is entitled, "Adventures on the High Seas." The story will conclude with Book 11, "A New World."

* * * * *

Chapter 239

Xeeta screamed as the intensity of the ritual shredded her senses.  She could feel the Demon twisting inside her, both attracted to and fleeing from that raw energy.  But bound and gagged as she was there was nothing she could do.

The blood from the bowls had risen again, forming columns of mist that were now coalescing within the circle.  But instead of collapsing into a point, as it had with the ritual that had brought Rodan here, it was spiraling out into a circle.  That circle was rotating, faster now as Kalev’s chant intensified.  Sparks of lightning flashed within it, and for a moment Xeeta’s vision blurred.  There was _something_ beyond that circle, something that she knew and feared.

Then everything snapped back to clarity and a figure stepped through the circle into the chamber.

It was huge, standing twice the height of a man, looming over both the prisoners and the wizard.  The link of heritage that it shared with the captives was obvious in the massive horns that jutted from its head, the sharp teeth that filled its jaws, the fiery cast to its mottled flesh.  But other than those similarities in form was utterly alien in form and demeanor.  Vast wings spread out from its back as it emerged from the portal, and a tail tipped with a vicious stinger curled up over its shoulder.  Its legs were backwards-jointed, and ended in gnarled pads tipped with twin claws.

It brought with it a massive fork with tines that glowed cherry-red.  A scent of brimstone swirled around it as it looked down at the man who had summoned it.

The devil spoke.  Xeeta could hear its voice not as sound but as a reverberation within her skull.  She looked over at Rodan, but he still had not stirred.

_You step above yourself, mortal,_ it said.

“Mighty Calaxthes, I have summoned you to fulfill our compact and restore our alliance,” Kalev said.  He looked a little ragged around the edges, Xeeta thought, but his eyes burned with fevered intensity as he stared up at the huge fiend.

_You have supremely bad timing, foolish wizard.  You threaten a precarious equilibrium with your actions._

Kalev blinked.  He seemed a bit taken aback, but he quickly rallied and said, “I have prepared an offering…”  He gestured toward Xeeta, who felt a sudden cold chill pierce to the core of her being.

That cold was replaced by an intense wave of heat as the devil shifted its attention to peer down at her.  The creature barked an audible laugh.  _The fate of worlds hangs in the balance, and you have brought me here to _rut?

A flutter of wings drew Xeeta’s attention up in time to see the wizard’s imp materialize out of thin air.  “Master!” the noxious thing screeched.  As it noticed the devil it stopped suddenly and prostrated itself in mid-air.  “Great One!  Apologies for interrupting!  The twins are defeated, and the enemy approaches!”

“You must protect me!” Kalev said.

Calaxthes fixed the full might of his presence upon the wizard.  _Must?_

“You must complete a service before you return to your home plane!” the wizard said.  His voice sounded tinny and weak against the sheer might of the devil, but Xeeta could feel the power that radiated from his diminutive form.  That power, augmented by the circle, was clearly holding the fiend in check.  Bound to the ritual, she felt like she was witnessing a silent but no less violent battle being fought.

With that context, she didn’t immediately notice the other new arrival, not until a familiar voice called out, “Xeeta!”

A few minutes ago, that shout would have unleashed a flood of relief, but now she only felt terror on his behalf.  She twisted her head as far as her bonds permitted, but could only catch a glimpse of Bredan out of the corner of her eye, partially obstructed by the shimmering outline of the circle and its massive occupant.  But there was no mistaking him, not with that shimmering sword that seemed to glow in the wan light of the ritual chamber.  She tried to move, to warn him, but the chains barely let her shift her limbs, and her gag only allowed a sad sound that she doubted was even enough to let him know she was there.  Inwardly she was shouting, _You cannot defeat this foe!  Stay back, don’t enter the circle!”_

But she knew her friend, and was not surprised when he lifted his sword and charged.

What did surprise her was when the devil retreated against that rush, recoiling against the far side of the circle.  At first, she though it was just luring him in, giving him room to seal his fate, but when Bredan swung his sword it actually tore a shallow gash in the infernal monstrosity’s leg.  A thin trickle of black ichor fell from the wound to sizzle and hiss against the floor of the chamber.

Bredan lifted his sword to strike again, but the devil caught his swing on its fork, trapping the steel between the thick tines.  It spoke to him, and again Xeeta could hear its words in her mind.  _I do not seek war with your master, mortal_.

Bredan snarled.  “I am my own master!”  He tried to free his trapped blade but could not overcome the leverage granted by the fiend’s size and strength.

The devil’s expression changed.  _So be it_, it said.  It reared up, knocking Bredan’s sword from his grasp.  It flew across the room, clattering into one of the open pipes.  The devil bent low, its tail flicking up toward the warrior’s face.  But Bredan merely lifted a hand and summoned a _shield_ that intercepted the deadly spike.

Calaxthes didn’t give him a chance to recover, sweeping his fork back around to come under his guard.  Bredan tried to dodge, but the devil’s weapon caught him a solid blow to the side, one of the tines penetrating through his armor to savage his flesh.  The sheer force of the impact drove him back several paces.

_Flee while you can, mortal_, the devil’s voice intoned.

In that moment, Bredan’s gaze shifted.  He met Xeeta’s eyes.  She’d been wrong; he’d known she was there all along.  She shook her head, tried to send a message, but he only nodded.  He understood, but he wasn’t going to stop.

He extended his hand, and his sword appeared once more in his grasp.  “This isn’t your realm,” he said to the devil.  “_You_ flee, and you may yet live.”

Xeeta didn’t get a chance to see Calaxthes’s response.  As she shifted in her bonds again, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye.  At first, she thought it was Rodan, but when she turned her head she saw that it was Kalev.  The wizard, staying to the shadows around the edge of the room, was circling around for a more advantageous angle toward Bredan.  His hand came up, and his mouth began to move.

Trapped by her bonds, Xeeta could do nothing to stop him.  Gagged as she was, her wrists manacled tightly together, she could not even summon a cantrip.  But she could feel the Demon within her, awakened by the ritual.  Held at bay, a prisoner just like her.

Or perhaps…

For once she didn’t stop to think.  Bredan had seconds at best; if the devil didn’t kill him, then the wizard would.  She cast her awareness inward, and embraced the Demon.

All of sudden her perceptions changed.  She could still make out the outlines of the devil, the wizard, and her friend, but they were all vague and indistinct.  A bright mist surrounded her, filling her vision with diffuse light.

She rose to her feet, the belatedly realized that this _should not be possible_.  She looked down at her hands.  They seemed solid enough, but the manacles that had held her now seemed hazy, as if they weren’t really there.  She quickly reached up and tore the gag from her mouth.

Xeeta did not get a chance to explore this strange new reality, for just as suddenly as she’d been cast into it, she was thrust back into her own world.  Her surroundings took on solidity again, and she looked over just as Calaxthes hurled a bolt of fire at Bredan.  The warrior met it with his sword and it shattered, spraying him with tongues of flame.  But as he swung the sword the fire clung to it, forming a blazing arc as he swept it toward the devil.

Xeeta did not hesitate.  She was free, and her magic surged at her command.  She didn’t try anything fancy, just unleashed a stream of flames at the wizard.  It was obvious that Kalev’s focus on the ritual did not give him the luxury of maintaining his ward against magic, for the _burning hands_ scorched his robes and seared his flesh.  The wizard let out a scream but disappeared in a flash of silver light before Xeeta could follow up with a second attack.  She looked up at the devil.  Calaxthes was turned away from her, but she instinctively knew that her fire would have no effect against it.  Instead she ran toward the limp form of Rodan.

Glori, Quellan, and Kosk reached the ritual chamber to see a scene of utter chaos before them.  Bredan was standing on a raised platform in the center of the floor, battling a huge horned fiend that looked like it had been conjured out of a nightmare.  They could just make out a smaller figure moving around the far side of the platform, and then, appearing to their right in a silver flash, a gaunt figure in a blackened robe.

“Wizard!” Glori warned.

“Help Bredan, I’ll deal with him!” Kosk said.

Xeeta collapsed next to the limp form of Rodan.  She pulled hard on his shackles, but if anything, the chains were thicker than the ones they’d used to confine her.  She did not know how she had managed her own escape, and doubted that she could use that power on another person in any case.  She had her magic back, but anything that might have a chance of weakening the shackles would likely also kill the imprisoned tiefling.

She’d thought that he was unconscious, but when she looked down at his face, she saw him looking back up at her.

“Get out of here,” he said.

“Without you, never,” she said.

Kosk moved quickly, but the wizard saw him coming.  The dwarf had covered only half of the distance that separated them when Kalev took a step to the side and lifted his hand.  There was a flash, and then pain as a _lightning bolt_ lanced out toward him.  Kosk managed to avoid the worst of it, but even the glancing impact he absorbed was enough to overcome his battered body, and he once more collapsed to the floor.  The full strategy of the wizard’s maneuver became clear as the bolt, continuing on its path, slammed into Quellan.  The half-orc, too, fell, his armored body making a loud clatter as it tumbled into the shallow trench that circled the outer perimeter of the room.

Glori had been rushing to help Bredan, but on seeing her two companions taken out she turned and rushed back to aid the fallen cleric.

Bredan was finding himself hard pressed.  Thus far the devil seemed to be toying with him, though he’d managed to inflict two more wounds that dripped long trails of ichor down its body.  But its attacks in turn were devastating, the massive fork battering him through his armor.  He could feel blood trickling out from the puncture in his side and knew that he could not stand up against this foe for much longer.  He’d heard his friends come in behind him, but saw the flash of the wizard’s spell and the loud clatter that said that whatever it was, it had found a target.  He tried to look past the devil to where he’d seen Xeeta earlier, but she was gone.

He looked up to meet the fiend’s awful gaze again, and saw the truth of how this would end in its eyes.  It held its fork at the ready, waiting for him to make his decision.

There was a time when he would have been paralyzed with terror, facing such a thing.  But the events of the last year had changed him, beyond whatever effects the Libram had stirred with its magic.

He raised his sword again and charged.

The blazing flare of the _lightning bolt_ tore Xeeta’s attention back to the battle taking place in front of her.  She saw the wizard, but also saw both Kosk and Quellan go down.  A slight form that had to be Glori rushed toward the stricken cleric.  Bredan was somehow still on his feet, but the devil looked to be hardly fazed by the scratches he’d managed to inflict upon it.

Kalev cackled at the successful effect of his spell.

The sight of that awoke a fresh fury within Xeeta.  Thrusting herself up, she reached deep down once more, where her anger was answered by a blazing surge of raw power.  Flames exploded from her hands, flames that she channeled into a series of _scorching rays_ that she used to pummel the wizard.  Empowered by the intensity of her rage, the beams washed over the already charred wizard, driving him back against the wall of the chamber.  He threw up his hands and screamed as one, two, three surges of fire tore into him.

But he did not go down.

However, the glowing remnants of the rune circle in the center of the room, along with all of the candles that were still alight, abruptly winked out.

Suddenly cast into darkness, Bredan lashed out blindly at his foe.  But his swing met only air.  Badly off-balance, he felt an impact that launched him flying off the platform.  He landed with a solid thud that knocked the air from his lungs and sent his sword clattering across the floor.  He looked up into the darkness, expecting the thrust that would end his life.

That attack, however, never came.  Xeeta could see what happened next clearly with her darkvision.  She saw Calaxthes almost casually avoid Bredan’s swing and then kick him across the room.  The devil then turned and made its way toward Kalev.  The charred wizard didn’t see the fiend until it was almost on top of him, then he lifted his hands and screamed, “I only wish to serve!”

For the first time the devil spoke aloud.  “And so you shall.”  With a sweep of its fork it snapped up the wizard, his body pinned between the long tines.  Kalev was still screaming as the devil returned to the center of the chamber, where a portal similar to the one that had conjured him suddenly swirled once more into being.

Calaxthes cast a final look around the chamber.  His gaze lingered for a moment on Bredan.  “Until we meet again,” he said.  He started to enter the portal with his unwilling passenger, but his head pivoted one more time, looking down at Xeeta.  She tensed, but the creature only inclined its head in a slight nod toward her.

Then Calaxthes stepped through the portal, and both the devil and the opening disappeared.


----------



## Lazybones

Book 10: ADVENTURES ON THE HIGH SEAS

Chapter 240

Standing on the aft deck of the _Golden Gull_, Li Syval already fading into the horizon behind them, Galendra Sond felt free for the first time in weeks.

She stood at the gap in the human-sized railing, where a small platform built specifically for her overlooked the main deck below.  A large post as thick around as her waist rose up from the center of the platform, wound in thick coils of hemp rope.

She stepped up onto the platform and watched her crew work her ship.  The _Gull_ seemed to leap across the waves, as if it too was eager to leave the city and its “civilization” behind.

Her expression slipped a bit as she saw a figure stumble over a coil of ropes below, but even that did little to erode her mood.

“Some of those new hires act like they’ve never been on a real ship,” she said.

Trev, standing at the full railing behind her, said, “There wasn’t much to choose from, Captain.  Not after they learned our destination.”

She looked over her shoulder at her second-in-command.  “You all right, Trev?  You’ve seemed distracted of late.”

He looked at her, his pale blue eyes intense.  “I’m sorry, Captain.  Just thinking about the crossing, I guess.”

“Well, think about it where the crew can’t see,” she said.  Turning back toward the bow, she added quietly, “It will be all right.”

There was a small commotion as her passengers came up onto the deck.  Some of them, at least; she would be surprised if the dwarf had recovered enough for a stroll up-decks, and they hadn’t even hit serious water yet.  The half-elven woman saw her and waved; Sond allowed herself an acknowledging salute.

“What do you think of our guests, Trev?” she asked.

“They know enough to stay out of the way,” her second replied.

She felt a sudden change in the breeze.  “Time to step up,” she said.  Trev started toward the rope-covered post, but she forestalled him with a raised hand.  “I think we can hold on that for now,” she said.  _Time for a show,_ she thought.  A proper display of what the tiny captain of the _Gull_ could do might be just the thing, both for the new members of the crew and for the passengers whose gold was paying for this voyage.

She didn’t bother with an announcement, just stepped up to the front of the raised platform.  For a moment nothing changed, then some of the old hands saw her and nudged their newer compatriots.  Soon everyone not directly involved in a critical task was watching her, including the motley assortment of passengers standing in a close knot beside the main mast.  _Perfect_ she thought.

She raised her hands, and embraced the wind.

She had done this hundreds of times, but it still never ceased to fill her with amazement when the wind responded to her call.  The sails, which had begun to droop as the breeze shifted, now filled again.  They surged against their spars and lines, causing the entire mast to creak from the effort of holding the sails back.  But the solid wood held, and the entire ship surged ahead in response.  Such was her control that the passengers’ cloaks were barely ruffled.  They looked impressed, or at least were looking at her in a new light.

Galendra laughed as the wind swirled around her and carried the _Golden Gull_ forward across the waves.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 241

Quellan was alone in the tiny chamber—cabin, he amended—that he, Kosk, Bredan, and Rodan shared when a knock came on the corridor door.

The cleric let out a small sigh.  He placed a bookmark and carefully closed the volume he’d been reading before setting it on the fold-down bed next to him.  “Enter,” he said.

One of the members of the _Gull’s_ crew swung the door open and stuck his head into the cabin.  “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord,” he said.  “Cap’n said to tell all you passengers that there may be rough seas ahead.  The ship’s ready, just wanted to make sure you weren’t alarmed.”

Quellan nodded.  “I will pass that information along to my colleagues,” he said.

“Your friend, the dwarf, I hope ‘e’s feeling better,” the man said.

At the mention of Kosk’s seasickness Quellan’s own stomach roiled in sympathy.  With a firm effort of will he quenched the feeling, though he knew that it could get much worse, especially out here on the open waters of the Blue Deep.  “He’s trying one of the cargo holds below.  I read that sometimes it can help to get as close to the bottom of the ship—excuse me, the keel—when dealing with seasickness.”

“That sounds logical,” the crewman said.  “Well, excuse me, m’lord…”

“Wait,” Quellan said.  “You’re one of the new crew we took on in Li Syval, aren’t you?”

“Yes, m’lord,” the man said.

“My name’s Quellan.”

“Ah… Kavek, m’lord.”

“Excuse my nosiness, Kavek, but I’m something of a student of accents.  I cannot quite place yours.  You’re not Syvalian?”

“Ah, no, m’lord.  Bit of a mixture, I am.  I was born in Zesania, but I traveled to many lands in my youth.”

“That’s on the far side of Voralis,” Quellan said.  “You’ve traveled far.”

“That’s the life of a sailor, m’lord.”

“Quellan.  I’m not a lord, Kavek, I’m just a humble servant of the gods.”

“As you say, m—sir,” Kavek said.  “You seem something of a traveler yourself, if you don’t mind me saying.  Not many continentals make their way to Weltarin.”

“No, it is not a journey I would have expected to make,” Quellan said with a laugh.

“Must be a great treasure you’re seeking, sir.”

“Treasure?  What makes you say that?”

“Why else would someone go all that way, sir?”

Quellan looked thoughtful.  “I suppose that treasure comes in various forms.”

The cleric had to reach suddenly for his book as the ship rocked heavily, causing the blanket covering the bed to shift toward the floor.  He was able to catch it before it slid off the suddenly precarious surface.  “Ah, I’d best get back to my duties, sir,” Kavek said.

“Thank you for the warning,” Quellan said.

When the door had shut again Quellan held onto his book.  He considered seeking out the others to pass on the captain’s warning, but decided they would all learn soon enough.  He thought about heading across the hall to check in on Glori and Xeeta.  Their room was even smaller than this one, a closet barely big enough to fit the two women.  Kalasien and his two remaining soldiers had the last cabin, a narrow wedge that fit into the bow of the ship.  Quellan had seen it briefly earlier and was grateful that the Arreshian agent had volunteered to take the forward space.  From the way it bobbed up and down even on calm seas, he doubted that he would be any better off than Kosk was right now if he’d been assigned that spot.

The ship rocked heavily again.  Quellan doubted he’d be able to get much more reading done during the coming storm.  He carefully packed the book away, then made himself comfortable—as comfortable as one could get here—then closed his eyes.  Praying had always helped him overcome physical discomfort, and he could feel the distractions of the ship and its constant motion fall away as he opened his mind to his god.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 242

He was in the last place she looked.

One wouldn’t think that it would be hard to find someone on a ship, but the _Golden Gull_ had a surprising number of hidden nooks and crannies.  Most of her fellow passengers remained in their cabins, but she’d run into Kalasien, apparently exploring the ship much as she was, and Kosk, the dwarf lying on the floor of the lower cargo hold.  He’d looked like he was perhaps trying to meditate, and he looked so unhappy that she hadn’t interrupted him.

She finally found her quarry in the small storeroom that abutted the ship’s compact galley.  In hindsight, it made sense; it was a quiet, solitary space, equipped with a small porthole.  It was open as she came in, allowing in a bit of light and some fresh air from outside the ship.

She had to duck low to fit under the threshold of the hatch that accessed the storage compartment.  Rodan was seated on a pile of full sacks stacked under the porthole.  He was reading a book, but looked up as she entered.  With the light behind him she couldn’t quite make out what feeling flashed in his eyes in reaction to her presence, but at least he didn’t tell her to leave.

“This is a good spot,” she said.  “Quiet.”

“I bribed the cook to let me stay,” he said.

“Fresher air up top.”

“The crew are… not comfortable.  My appearance.”  With a flourish of his hand he highlighted features that were much like hers, though with a slightly darker tint to his skin and horns that were straighter, equipped with slight ridges along their length.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “The amulet… you could wear it…”

He shook his head.  “No.  I was angry at first when you claimed it, but not anymore.  I’ve decided I’m done with hiding what I am.”

There was a pause.  There wasn’t really any space for her to sit, so all she could do was lean against the crates that were packed tight into the space.  “What are you reading?” she finally asked.

“A book on the New World,” he said.  “Quellan loaned it to me.  The man carries an impressive library with him.”

“Anything useful about where we’re going?” she asked.  She knew that Bredan had briefed him about their quest, at least the part of it that they all knew.  He had told her that much himself.

“Not really.  It’s mostly adventure stories and wild tales about monsters and lost kingdoms.  But it is diverting.  Perfect for a long sea voyage.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I know I said it before, but I want you to know that it’s genuine.  I had no idea…”

He held up a hand to forestall her.  “I know.  I spoke with Quellan about that, the ritual spell that they used to bring us back together.  It was not your fault, you were an unwilling participant.  It was our blood that bound us together.”

“If there would have been any way I could have fought them…”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I blame myself.  I can’t help it.  Kalev knew I was coming.  Apparently, he had magic that could track us.  I would have stayed in Severon, had I known.”

“There was no way you could have known.  And Bredan needed you.”

“Yes.”  She looked away for a moment, but there wasn’t much else to look at in the tiny room except for him.  “You didn’t have to come with us.  You could have gone back.”

“I’d come halfway around the world in a heartbeat,” Rodan said.  “Why not go the rest of the way?”

“This part is harder,” she said.

“Yes.  He told me some of it.  What he himself understands.”

“I think he understands more than he thinks.”

“I think we should be more understanding, being what we are.  There was so much that was kept hidden from us.”

“I’m here,” she said.

“Not what one would expect,” he said.  “Two of our kind.  Engaged in a quest to save the world.”

“I’m not here for the world.”

“What then?”

“These people… they’re the closest thing to a real family I’ve ever had.  I wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for them.  And from the start, it was Bredan who was my champion, who urged the others to give me a chance.  Even when I didn’t believe that I deserved one.”

Rodan nodded.  “Maybe I want something like that too,” he said.  “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s too late now,” she said.

“It’s a big boat.”

“No.  You’re my family too, and not just in the way that Kalev thought.  In truth, I was a little relieved that you did agree to come with us to Weltarin.  I understand why you wouldn’t before.  You’re the only part of Li Syval that I want to keep in my life.”

“It will always be a part of us,” he said.

“Yes.  But it won’t define who we are.”

He nodded, and held out a hand, the last two fingers extended.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment she duplicated the gesture, touching her fingers to his and then hooking them briefly together.

“Family,” he said.

“Family,” she echoed back.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 243

Glori hadn’t realized how stale the air within the ship had gotten until she stepped out onto the main deck.  The sharp wind immediately ruffled her hair—she’d let it grow out some since they’d left Arresh—and swirled it around her head.  She’d gotten used to the constant rolling of the ship under her, but it now felt like it was deliberately trying to buck her.  Sailors rushed about, intent on their tasks and paying her only enough heed to avoid a collision.

She saw Bredan, standing against the port rail.  He was staring out at the reason for the crew’s bustle.  To her eyes the dark clouds seemed to have crept almost to the surface of the ocean, though she knew that was an illusion of the horizon.  Still, they seemed disturbingly close.

She went over to him, careful of the swaying deck.  “What do you see?” she asked.

“The vastness of eternity,” he said without turning.  “The raw chaos of the multiverse.”  After a moment he turned to her and grinned.  “Or maybe it’s just a storm.”

She punched him hard on the shoulder.  “Jerk.”  She peered out at the mass of clouds.  “It does look big, though.  And mean.”

“The captain and crew know what they’re doing,” Bredan said.  “They’ve been out here before.”

“Most of them haven’t,” Glori said.  “The crew, that is.  I’ve chatted with a few, and while they don’t seem to want to talk about it, I gather that the last time they came out here things didn’t go so well.”

“The captain can control the weather,” Bredan said.

They both glanced up at the platform where Captain Sond had been earlier, but the space was vacant at the moment.  She was likely resting, saving up her strength for what was coming, Glori thought.  “She’s a storm sorceress,” she said.  “But her power is limited.  It’s impressive, but I noticed earlier that it doesn’t quite cover the entire ship, and while she can redirect the wind, she cannot affect the waves.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” he said.  But she saw the way his hands tightened on the rail.

“You should relax,” she said.  “You know, if you’d like some privacy, you could use our cabin.  Xeeta wouldn’t mind, she said that she patched things up with Rodan.”

He shot her a dry look.  “I don’t need help with my romantic life,” he said.

“Just trying to help.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  It’s just… we haven’t been together since Li Syval.  I don’t know if it’s him, or me, or… I guess the moment just passed.”

She put her hand on his arm.  “Bredan… I know that the last few months have been tough on you, with all that’s happened, all that’s happening with you.  But you can’t let your humanity go.”

He clasped her hand with his.  “I know.  Maybe after all this is over… I don’t know.”

Captain Sond emerged from one the hatches that led below.  She had no difficulty moving about the ship, though nearly everything was sized for a human.  She saw the two of them and came over.  “You should get below,” she told them.  “We’re tying everything down for the storm.”

“Is there anything we can do to help, Captain?” Glori asked.

“Just stay below and don’t get in the way,” she said.  But after a moment she added, “I’m sorry.  There isn’t anything you can do.  The storm will be on us in less than an hour.”

“There’s no way we could avoid it?” Bredan asked.  “Your power…”

“It’s moving much faster than we can, even with the trailing wind,” Sond explained.  “No, when a storm like this one decides it wants you, there’s nothing you can do except ride it out.”

“If any of your crew get injured, Quellan or I can help,” Glori said.  “We both have healing spells.”

“Thank you,” Sond said.  “I will keep that in mind.”

She headed off to supervise her crew in the preparation of the ship, and Glori and Bredan went below.  As the warrior navigated the narrow hatchway, he bumped his head.  “Ouch.”

“It’s difficult, feeling so powerless,” Glori said as they made their way back toward their cabins.  The only light was the dim glow that filtered down through the tiny window in the hatch, so they had to feel their way along the corridor.  Fortunately, there was nothing to stumble into or bounce their heads off of; by necessity such hazards were kept to a minimum on a seagoing vessel.

“I’ve had a chance to get used to it,” Bredan said.

She paused at the door to her cabin, just opposite the one he shared with the other men.  She touched his arm again, offering silent support.  “Thanks,” he said.  “For sticking with me.”

“Somebody has to keep you out of trouble,” she said.  “Besides, who else could write the saga of your adventures?”

“I just hope I’m there to read it,” he said.

“We will be,” she said.  “We stay together, watch each other’s backs, and we will be.  Anyway, I’ll let you be the one to tell Kosk the news about the storm.”

He snorted.  “Yeah, thanks.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 244

The storm assaulted the _Golden Gull_, the vessel bouncing over waves that rose higher than the ship’s decks, cresting each one only to plummet down into the trough to await the next.

In their tiny cabin Bredan and his companions huddled miserably.  Kosk huddled over a bucket in the corner, while Quellan was just a limp form in his bunk.  The half-orc had finally used a rope to fasten himself in place after the fifth time the bucking ship had hurled him from the narrow bed.  It was loud, the sounds of the waves striking the hull like a battering ram, the shriek of the wind clear despite the thick layers of wood that separated them from the storm’s fury.

With an effort, Bredan managed to lift his head from his bunk.  He could see Rodan lying in the hammock that he had gotten from a member of the crew.  The swaying of it threatened to unleash a fresh wave of nausea, even though Bredan doubted he had anything left he could throw up.  They’d all visited the bucket, and the floor was slick with vomit that hadn’t made it that far.

“You seem rather calm,” Bredan said.  He almost had to shout for it to be heard over the din of the storm.

Rodan looked at him.  The distinctive outline of his horns was clearly visible even in the poor light.  “There’s nothing we can do in any case,” the tiefling said.

It was similar to what Bredan had told Glori earlier, but it was harder to cling to equanimity when the room was bouncing and sliding around you.  Bredan pushed himself up.  “I’m going to check on Glori and Xeeta,” he said.  His first effort to stand failed, but after waiting a moment to gauge the shifting of the deck he was able to get upright.

Rodan sighed.  “Hold on, I’ll help…”

He was interrupted as the entire ship suddenly lurched heavily.  A new sound overpowered the background roaring of the storm, and for a moment Bredan thought that the ship was being torn apart.  But the sea remained outside, and the sound was not repeated.  The violent rolling of the deck continued, but the pitch of it had changed, and the angle of the cabin remained off, as if the entire ship had been laid almost on its side.

“What was that?” Bredan asked.

“Nothing good!” Rodan returned.

Bredan was already heading for the door, while Rodan extracted himself from his hammock and followed.  They could hear Quellan shouting a question, but it was lost over the unabated noise of the sea and wind.

Bredan hesitated at the door to Glori and Xeeta’s room, but shouts from the hatch at the end of the corridor drew him forward.  Rodan caught up to him as his hand closed on the handle.  “Wait!” the tiefling said.

“The ship may be sinking!” Bredan yelled back.

“It might, but you’ll accomplish nothing if you’re flung into the ocean!”  Rodan produced something, a coil of rope that had metal hooks at each end.  Bredan had no idea where he’d gotten it, but he let Rodan hook one end onto his belt.  The other went around a metal ring set into the wall beside the hatch.  “You’re good!” he said.

Bredan nodded in acknowledgement, then pushed the hatch open.

The full fury of the storm struck him like a punch from a giant.  The deck of the ship was awash with water, and the intensity of the wind threw a considerable amount of it into Bredan’s face.  He’d thought it had been loud below, but up here it was deafening, a wall of noise that for a moment overpowered his senses.  It was all he could do to hang on to the faring of the hatch and remain there, stunned by the intensity of the storm.

After what felt like an hour but was actually just a few seconds, he shook his head clear and looked around.  He saw the source of the _Gull’s_ trouble immediately.  The main mast had snapped, dragging its cargo of sails and ropes over the edge of the ship.  It was those anchors that were keeping the thing from sliding into the sea.  The weight of it was what was causing the heavy list, dragging the battered ship toward the roiling waves.

Bredan was no sailor, but he could see that the _Gull_ would not survive long with that dead weight pulling it down.  He looked for the Captain, but could not even see the platform on the aft deck through the chaos of the storm.  There were men trying to cut the mast free, but they were having understandable difficulty given the circumstances.  Even as he watched a wave struck the ship, washing over the lower deck and sending men sprawling.

To go out into that was madness.  But if the ship went over, it was almost certain that they would all die.

He rushed out into to the frenzy of the storm.  He made it barely three steps before he slipped and fell hard onto the swaying deck.  The water rushing across tugged him toward the starboard rail, where the falling mast had torn a massive opening.  For a moment it looked as if the sea was rushing toward him, then he felt a hard jerk and came to a stop.

For a heartbeat he didn’t know what was going on, then he remembered the rope.  He used it to pull himself up, grateful to Rodan for his foresight.  He began to drag himself toward the base of the mast.  He could see where the wood had snapped, not far above where it rose from the deck.  But the break had not been clean, and part of the mast was still anchored to the ship.  Half-crawling, half-climbing, he managed to make his way there.

Rodan materialized at his side.  Somehow the tiefling had found an axe, and he clearly divined Bredan’s intent.  “We have to cut it free!” he shouted.

Bredan nodded, and summoned his sword into his hands.

His first blow went wild, and he nearly lost the sword.  That would have only delayed him, but he forced himself to focus on his task despite the confusion that swirled around him.  Another wave crashed over the side as he struck again, but he ignored it, ignored the water that tugged as his legs as he slammed his sword repeatedly into the bend of bent wood that still connected the mast to the ship.  On the far side Rodan echoed his blows with his axe.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of hacking, the mast tore free.  Bredan almost followed it as the ship lurched again, but the rope allowed him to catch himself before he fell.  He grabbed hold of Rodan, who he saw was not anchored as he was; the tiefling had given his only protection to him.

Their victory, however, had not been complete.  The mast, he saw, had hung up on the edge of the deck.  There were ropes that were still holding it, still dragging them after it.  Some of those were on the very edge of the deck, right on the precipice where the hungry sea waited.

Bredan raised his sword and prepared to rush toward the nearest of the ropes, but before he could begin there was a bright flash.  At first he thought that there had been an explosion, but as the flames flickered out he saw that it was Xeeta, anchored in the hatchway by Glori.  Bredan didn’t think that the sorceress’s fire could do much within the storm, but as he blinked away the afterimages he saw that part of the rail where some of the ropes had been anchored was now gone.

Another large figure lumbered across the deck, and Bredan saw that it was Quellan.  The cleric was holding a cutlass in one meaty fist, and as they watched he used it to hack through another lump of tangled ropes.  The mast was starting to tear free now, and Bredan and Rodan helped it along by targeting more taut ropes further back along the deck.  Some of the other sailors were cutting more, including a long length of sail that had gotten tangled up with some of the foremast rigging, and finally with a last groaning crash the mast tore free and disappeared beneath the waves.

Free of that dead weight, the _Gull_ seemed to spring back up, the deck lurching under their feet.  Bredan went down again, as did Rodan.  The two of them started sliding across the deck, but Bredan dropped his sword and seized hold of the tiefling before the next wave could drag them toward the broken rail.  He could feel the rope as it grew taut, and then they were sliding over the deck toward the hatch.  He looked up to see Kosk pulling on the rope, his face a hard mask of effort as he drew them in.  As they reached the hatch Glori and Xeeta reached up and pulled them up.

“Quellan!” Bredan said.

“He’s okay!” Glori said.  She pointed back toward the corridor, where they could see the half-orc kneeling in a sodden heap.  The others staggered back to join him, Kosk pausing to muscle the hatch shut again behind him.

They just collapsed there for a moment, breathing heavily after their exertions.  “Think that’ll be enough?” Glori finally asked.

“Gods above, I hope so,” Bredan said.  “I definitely don’t want to ever do anything like that again.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 245

Bredan jolted awake as a hand touched his shoulder.  He blinked against an unexpected intensity of light.  “What?  Is it morning?”

“Early afternoon, actually,” Rodan said.  “I would have let you sleep longer, but there’s a report that land’s been sighted.”

That brought Bredan fully awake, and he sat up in his bunk.  The light was natural sunlight, which poured in through the porthole.  Quellan and Kosk were not there, though the room still stank of their collective misery from the night before.  “Land?  Already?  Where?”

“You already know as much as I do,” Rodan said with a smirk.  “I thought you might want to go up and check in with the captain.”

Bredan nodded, and reached for his coat.

They ran into one of Kalasien’s men in the narrow corridor.  “Ho, Elias,” Bredan said as they retreated back into their cabin to let him pass.  The soldier looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep since last night; his clothes were sodden and filthy, and dark bags hung under his eyes.  But he nodded respectfully at Bredan, giving Rodan a more cautious look.  The tiefling was still a bit of an unknown to the Arreshians.  While they knew that Xeeta was of the same fiendish ancestry, her magical amulet allowed her to present what others considered a “normal” appearance.  Bredan still bristled a bit on Rodan’s behalf at such reactions, though he knew that Elias was a solid man otherwise.

“I heard that you saved the ship,” the soldier said.

“It was a group effort,” Bredan said, gesturing subtly to clearly include Rodan in the tally.

Elias nodded.  “We’ve been helping with the pumps in the bilges,” he said.  “The ship sprung a few leaks in the storm.”

That news awoke a new urgency in Bredan.  “Are we in danger of sinking?” he asked.

“The crew doesn’t seem to think so.  But it’s going to be tough to make repairs while underway.”

“We heard that land’s been sighted,” Bredan said.  “Perhaps we can find someplace sheltered to make those repairs.”

Elias just nodded.  As he started to turn away Bredan asked, “Hey, have you seen Kalasien?”

The soldier shook his head.  “He was below with us, earlier.  Maybe he’s up with the captain.  If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

The scene that greeted Bredan and Rodan on deck still showed the aftermath of the storm.  Men were working all over the ship—and women, Bredan amended as he saw Glori crawling in the damaged rigging that dangled from the remaining mast.  He didn’t see Kalasien, but Quellan was there, talking with Captain Sond.  The half-orc saw them and waved them over.

“Bredan, Rodan,” the cleric said.  “Feeling better, I hope?”

“I was able to get some rest, thanks,” Bredan said.  “Captain Sond.  I’m glad to see you all right.”

The halfling sailor nodded.  “Thank you for your help last night.  We could have lost the ship when the mast snapped.”

“What happened?” Bredan asked.

Sond shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I did my best to reduce the strain on the ship, but that storm… it was just ill luck.  Such things happen upon the Deep.”

“We lost four men,” Quellan said.  “Including the second-in-command.”

Bredan reevaluated the shadowed look on the captain’s face; it was more than just exhaustion.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “He seemed like a solid guy.”

“Trev was reliable,” Sond said.  “He was on the main deck when the mast collapsed.  The sea has him, now.  That’s all a sailor can ask for when he goes.”

“I heard that you’d spotted land,” Bredan said.  “I thought we were days out from Weltarin yet.”

Sond nodded.  “It must be an uncharted island.  The storm blew us well off of our course.  But it’s serendipitous.  The _Gull_ needs repairs, and we may be able to find a sheltered anchorage to put in.”

“How bad is it?” Rodan asked.

“She’s a good ship, but she’s taken a beating,” Sond said.  “I wouldn’t want to risk continuing on to the mainland without at least patching some of the leaks and putting in a temporary mast.  We have plenty of supplies for repairs below, as long as we can find a suitable piece of timber on the island.”

Glori dropped lightly to the upper deck and ran down to meet them.  “What do you see?” Bredan asked her.

“It’s just a dark splotch from here,” she reported.

“We’ll be there soon enough,” Sond said.  “If you’ll excuse me, there are a few things I need to check on below.”

“She’s a tough little woman,” Rodan said when she was gone.

“The loss of her second hit her hard,” Quellan said.

“How’s Kosk?” Bredan asked.

“He’ll be all right,” Quellan said.  “He went below to help with the pumps.”

“Yeah, I ran into Elias in the corridor, he told me about that,” Bredan said.

“You should get something to eat,” Rodan said.  “Before we get to the island.”

Bredan knew him well enough now to gauge his mood.  “You think there will be trouble?” he asked.

“I’ve heard stories of Weltarin, same as you,” the tiefling said.  “Maybe this island is deserted, maybe not.  But if we’re going ashore, then we should be ready for anything.”

“Wise words,” Quellan said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 246

To Bredan it felt like the _Golden Gull_ was limping as it eased slowly into the natural harbor.  The crew had cleared away most of the debris created by the storm from the ship’s decks, but nothing could conceal the jagged remnant of the main mast.

The island wasn’t very big, maybe a little more than a mile across and half that in width.  At first it hadn’t looked promising; the side that faced them on their initial approach had been mostly bare cliffs, rising up to a hundred feet above the level of the pounding surf.  The island itself looked to be volcanic in origin, with a black peak that rose to a bare crest several hundred feet above the surrounding ocean.  But the rest of the island was covered in a dense carpet of green, and as they’d come around to the far side they had seen this cove, a narrow wedge flanked by tiny slivers of inviting white beach.

It had been more complicated than that, of course.  Sond had brought them in slowly, using her powers to shift the once sleek, now ponderous bulk of the ship through a gap in the reefs that surrounded the lee side of the island.  Wary of submerged rocks, she had crew members perched on the bow keeping watch and taking frequent soundings.  She finally called for the anchor to be dropped about a thousand feet away from the closest beach, and ordered the crew to begin unlimbering the ship’s launch for departure.

As the boat was being lowered down on its davits, Bredan joined the others gathered along the rail.  They had already decided who would join the first expedition.  The _Gull_ only had the one boat, so the first trip would be to gauge whether there were any immediate threats near the shore.  Their priority was to find a tree that could serve as a temporary replacement for the main mast.  A second objective was to find a source of fresh water that they could use to top off the _Gull’s_ supply.

The members of Sond’s crew that had been assigned to the first trip started down even before the launch was in the water, clambering down over the rope ladder that was dropped over the side.  They included two common sailors and an officer, the latter carrying a small crossbow slung across his back.  Rodan descended with almost as much ease.  Bredan tried to gauge whether the crew drew back from the tiefling as he settled into the boat, then decided it didn’t matter.  Whether or not the sailors were made uncomfortable by having Rodan in their midst, the ranger’s skills in the wilderness made him an invaluable addition to the team.

Xeeta followed him down.  Bredan was next, but he hesitated as Quellan came up to him.  “Be careful,” the cleric said.

“We’ll be all right,” Bredan reassured him.  Quellan had volunteered immediately to be part of the shore party, but his size and bulk would have put too much stress on the tiny boat.  Glori had agreed to come in his place, her magical talents in reserve in case they ran into something dangerous ashore.  She lingered with the cleric a moment as Bredan started down the ladder.

The others had made it look easy, but the ladder seemed like a living thing, twisting in Bredan’s grasp as if intent on dropping him into the ocean.  The weight of his dwarf-made armor didn’t help any, but he wasn’t going to leave that behind on a trip like this.  He made it down safely, even if Rodan and one of the crewmen had to help him get situated in the boat.

By contrast, Glori dropped down lightly into the front of the boat almost before he had found his seat.  She took hold of the small curve of wood that jutted out from the prow and pointed toward the beach that was their destination.  “I’ve always wanted to be the first to discover a new land,” she said with a grin.  “Shall we?”

“I notice that she didn’t bother reaching for an oar,” Bredan said to Rodan.

“There are only six,” Rodan said.

“Looks like Torrin wasn’t planning on being one of the six.”  The _Gull’s_ second mate—first mate now, Bredan amended—rather than pester the smiling bard, picked up the last oar and joined the others in piloting the small craft toward the waiting beach.

The water was crystal clear, and Bredan could see fish swimming below them when he lifted his oar from the water.  They came up on the shallows quickly, and Bredan joined Rodan and the sailors in jumping out and dragging the boat up onto the shore.  Once it was settled Glori hopped out onto the sand.  “I claim this land, in the name of the Adventurers of Crosspath,” she declared.

Bredan was already studying the forest.  Jungle might be a more appropriate term, he thought.  The growth was thicker than anything he had ever seen before, and it seemed to press in against the narrow line of the beach, as if trying to claim that space as well.  There could have been anything within that shadowed expanse, watching and waiting.  The beach was never more than twenty feet deep across its face, and it vanished altogether where the cove met the steep slope that descended from the island’s interior.  It seemed likely that there had to be fresh water somewhere within all that green, but Bredan didn’t know enough to know where to start looking.  He could tell that none of the trees near the shore were straight or tall enough to serve as potential candidates for a new mast.

Torrin seemed to share his assessment, for the mate pointed to a spot inland and said, “I believe we will have better luck in that direction.”

“With all respect, sir, you may want to let us take a quick look around, first,” Rodan said, as he fitted a string to the new bow he’d purchased in Li Syval.  “Clear the area, make sure there aren’t any nasties lurking nearby.”

“It’s doubtful that an island of this size would support any major fauna,” Torrin said.  He was a young man, maybe a few years older than Bredan, and clearly didn’t like the idea of someone else taking change.  “But we won’t go far in our initial survey.  The ladies can stay with the boat until we give the all-clear.”

“With all _due_ respect,” Glori said before Bredan could chime in, “Those two are okay if you need something chopped up into little bits or stuck with arrows, but Xeeta and I represent the heavy firepower of our group.”  She nodded toward the sorceress, who produced a spike of fire from her new rod.

The display clearly had the desired effect; Torrin swallowed and said, “Gravis, Kavek, you two stay with the boat.  Keep an eye out.”  The two sailors seemed quite content being left behind, as the rest of the company trudged along the beach for about a hundred yards before turning inland.

The transition was dramatic.  It had been warm and dry on the sunlit sands of the beach, but within a few steps the forest engulfed them in shadowed coolness and soggy damp.  The ground was soft and spongy, and plants plucked at their sleeves and leggings with every step.

“It must rain here a lot,” Glori said.

“Stay close,” Torrin said.  “It’s easy to get lost in all this growth.”

Bredan caught Rodan’s gaze and rolled his eyes.  The tiefling smiled, but his attention quickly returned to the surrounding forest.  He made less noise than any of them as they pushed deeper into the tangled jungle.  Bredan wondered if the ranger was seeing more than he was.  He didn’t see any animals, other than a few birds that stirred in the canopy above them at their approach, but the whole place felt teeming with life.  He resisted the urge to summon his sword as they trudged forward, the boggy ground sucking at his boots with each step.

They’d covered barely a hundred steps before the ground began to slope upward.

Bredan thought that the jungle growth would have thinned as the slope increased, but if anything it grew even denser, until they were fighting for every step forward.  Even Rodan seemed to have difficulty blazing them a path.

“There’s something over here!” Glori called out.

The others turned toward where the bard was pointing at what looked like an overgrown shelf of rock, maybe twenty feet out of their line of march.  But as they made their way in that direction, they could see that it was part of what might have once been a structure, its lines too regular to be natural.

“A ruin?” Xeeta asked as they reached it.

“Somebody built this,” Rodan said, running a hand along the stone face that Glori had first spotted.  It was crusted in moss and lichen, and overgrown with clinging vines, but they could now see the seams where the stone blocks had been fitted together.

“There’s nothing left,” Torrin said.  “The repairs to the ship must be the first priority.”

“We’ll find the tree,” Glori said.  “But if there was an ancient civilization here once, it might be useful to…”

She was cut off as they heard a sound coming from the direction of the beach.  It was a cry of alarm, which abruptly transitioned into a scream of pain that itself was suddenly cut off.

“The sailors!” Xeeta said unnecessarily.  Bredan was already running back the way they had come, with Rodan just a step behind him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 247

“Bredan, careful!” Glori warned, but he was already twenty paces away and picking up speed.  “Men,” she said to Xeeta as the two women hurried after them.  Torrin, frozen by the first sounds, belatedly brought up the rear.

The work they’d done earlier to clear the path helped them now, but the dense jungle growth still whipped at them as they ran back to the beach.  Glori and Xeeta, being less burdened, had nearly caught up to the men when they burst out of the greenery and onto the narrow stretch of sand.

“Oh, damn,” Xeeta said.

The source of the disturbance was still present.  The largest crocodile any of them had ever seen, almost twice the length of their boat, was lying with its tail still in the water.  It was chomping on something that was still vaguely recognizable as one of the sailors, its jaws soaked red with his blood.

The other sailor, Kavek, was running from a second, only slightly smaller crocodile.  He was clutching his side and having some difficulty, the soft sand hindering him enough for the huge reptile to keep pace.  He was headed in their general direction but was still over a hundred feet away.

“Kavek, over here!” Glori yelled.  Bredan had already summoned his sword and was running toward the sailor and his pursuer, while Rodan strung his bow and had an arrow fitted to it before the warrior had taken ten steps.  His first shot struck the crocodile but at a bad angle, bouncing off its armored hide.

Kavek had spotted them and shifted his course, but the crocodile put on a sudden burst of speed and quickly closed the distance separating them.  But before it could strike Xeeta pointed with her rod and launched a bead of liquid flame that streaked past the fleeing sailor and exploded directly above the charging croc.  The reptile let out a shrieking hiss as the _fireball_ seared it.  Kavek was knocked down by the force of the blast, but was far enough away that he was merely dazed, not injured.

Unfortunately for him, the crocodile was not seriously hurt, and as the sailor staggered to his feet the reptile lurched for him again.

Glori strummed her lyre, gathering her magic into another spell.  The crocodile and its would-be victim were too close to risk a _wall of fire_, she judged, but she quickly summoned a _major image_ that materialized along the boundary between the jungle and the beach.  It took the form of half a dozen additional sailors that rushed the crocodile, shouting and poking at it with spears.  The creature, distracted by the unexpected assault, spun and lunged at these new attackers.  It snapped its jaws on one and slashed its massive tail though another, but of course it caught only empty air.  The reptile, driven to a frenzy now, thrashed back and forth, raising columns of sand as its claws shredded the beach.

“We’ve got to help Bredan,” Glori said as Kavek staggered clear of the melee.  Rodan scored a hit with his second shot, the arrow lodging into the creature’s neck just below its jaw, but the missile looked like a toothpick against the sheer mass of its scaled form.  He reached for a third even as he ran after Xeeta and Glori to close the distance.  Now that Bredan was getting close they could see again the sheer scale of the thing.  Torrin, who had finally emerged from the jungle behind them, just stood there staring at the two beasts, his sword hanging forgotten at his side.

Glori’s illusions continued to distract the crocodile as Bredan rushed toward it, his sword shining brilliantly in the bright afternoon sunlight.  The creature didn’t appear to see him at first, but its wild movements were still spraying sand, and as the warrior lunged a gout of it caught him in the face.  It threw off his strike, and while the edge of the sword still clipped its body it was a mere glancing blow, inflicting only minor damage.

But the hit still caught its attention, and it spun toward the new threat with a speed that belied its size.  Bredan tried to dodge back, but the churned-up sand slowed him enough that he could not get clear before the crocodile’s jaws snapped down and seized him in a crushing grip that enfolded his right shoulder and arm.  His sword stuck out from the other side of its jaw, but with his arm pinned he could not bring it to bear.  The weight of the creature pushed him to his knees.  His armor kept its teeth from piercing his skin, but the sheer pressure from its jaws was squeezing his torso in a manner that he knew would eventually pulverize his rib cage and squash the delicate organs within.

Bredan’s companions were keeping up their attacks.  He caught a flash of flame out of the corner of his eye as a _scorching ray_ struck the crocodile’s side, followed a moment later by an arrow that quivered in its thick hide.  He could hear the sounds of Glori’s lyre over the sounds of the crocodile’s movements, but did not know what she was casting.  But the creature refused to relinquish its hold.  Bredan suspected it would not loosen its jaws until he was dead.

The crocodile turned, dragging its captive with it.  Bredan realized that it was heading back toward the water.  He knew that if it made it that far, he would have almost no chance of escape.

He focused on his sword.  Held as he was, he could not hope to move it.  But a thought came to him.  He closed his eyes and let his mind clear.

The sword disappeared.

A moment later, it rematerialized in his left hand.

As soon as he felt the familiar weight, he planted his feet in the sand and pushed upward.  His strength was a pittance against the bulk of the crocodile, but its head came up slightly.  That was all he needed.  Gritting his teeth, he thrust forward with every bit of effort he could still muster.  The crocodile’s head came up just a bit more.  He lifted the sword and then let his legs collapse under him.

The only thing he felt at first was a soft sigh of air from within the crocodile’s gullet, followed by a hot wetness that flowed over his left hand.  The weight of the creature was still pressing him down, but the inexorable pressure of its jaws hadn’t let up any.  For a moment he listened for the sounds of his ribs snapping in his chest, but then a familiar face appeared, a look of concern written on her features.

“Bredan!” Glori said.  “Hold on, we’re going to get you out of there.”

He heard a soft squelching sound, followed by a collective grunt of effort, then the jaws popped open and he was free.  He fell backwards onto the sand, grateful at last for the soft surface.

Glori reappeared at once, strumming her lyre again to summon a healing spell.  Bredan let out a sigh as the magic coursed into him.  He turned his head to see the corpse of the crocodile, his sword still embedded in its throat.  Its jaw lay hacked open, the thick muscles to either side severed.  Rodan still stood over it, his bloody dagger in his hand.  “The other one?” Bredan asked.

“It retreated back into the water with what was left of the other sailor,” Glori said.  “Xeeta hurried it along with a few more fire blasts, but I think it was content to take its meal and go.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t decide it wants dessert while we’re making our way back to the ship,” Bredan said.

“Can you get up?” Glori asked.

At his nod he rose, though he accepted her offered hand with relief.  “You know that was crazy, right?” she asked.

“In hindsight, yes,” he said.

Bredan looked over at the boat, relieved to see that it was still intact.  The larger crocodile could have destroyed it with a single swipe of its tail.  He looked for the other creature in the water, but while he could see the slithering track it had left in the sand it was already out of sight.

He stepped back over to the side of the creature he’d killed.  “You like to live dangerously,” Rodan commented.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Bredan said.

“Next time, let us whittle it down a bit first,” the ranger said.  “The sailor was out of danger, there was no reason to rush into close quarters.”

“Noted,” Bredan said.

“Ah, here comes out fearless leader,” Xeeta said dryly.

Bredan turned to see Torrin approaching, Kavek right behind him.  The sailor was still clutching his side.  “You take a hit?” Bredan asked.

The man nodded.  “Tail swipe as it went for Gravis.  We never even saw them until they were right on top of us.”

“Do you think there are more of them?” Torrin asked.  “Should we go back to the ship?”

The young officer’s desire to command had eroded significantly, Bredan thought.  “We’d still need to come back later for the tree,” he said.  “Let’s see what we can find, but I suggest we stay together from here on out.”

No one challenged his suggestion.  Bredan waved an all-clear toward the ship, though it was likely that they’d witnessed the entire encounter from its deck.  Without a second boat, however, there was nothing they could do to intervene.  That done, they turned back toward the jungle, warier now as they made their way once more into the interior of the island.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 248

The _Golden Gull_ bobbed lightly at anchor in the sheltered island cove.  It was a moonless night, and the only light came from several banked lanterns that only released enough of a glow to illuminate the decks of the ship.  The only sound was the soft gurgle of water as the pumps continued their laborious effort of keeping the wounded vessel afloat.

A lot of work had already been accomplished.  The cleaned trunk of what would become the new mast lay across the main deck, its ends sticking out over the water to each side of the ship.  It had taken a lot of effort, first to find and cut down the tree, then to drag it back to the beach.  It had been far too large to carry in the ship’s boat, so they’d attached lines and floats and dragged it over to the _Gull_ once the initial work of preparing the trunk had been completed.  There would be a lot more work to do before it could be lifted into place and attached to the stubby remnant of the original mast, but at least that work could be done on the ship.  After the attack by the giant crocodiles, enthusiasm for exploring the island had waned considerably.  They did find a spring while looking for the right tree, but it was considerably inland and getting the water into the ship’s barrels might end up being more trouble than it was worth.  Captain Sond had promised to consider the matter.

Bredan thought about the day’s events as he stood watch on the raised aft deck of the _Gull_.  His arms and shoulders burned, both from the mauling he’d taken from the crocodile and the hard labor of getting the new mast back to the ship.  Quellan had spent another healing spell on him when he’d finally gotten back aboard, but it wasn’t just his aches and pains that were keeping him awake.  He didn’t have to stand this watch.  No one either among his companions or on the crew would have asked it of him after the day’s adventures, but he’d felt restless.  The calm quiet of night in the shelter of the bay was a soothing balm to a mind run ragged by the events of the last few months.

A slight sound drew his attention around, reminding him that he was supposed to be keeping watch, not reflecting on his current situation.  He could see the other two sentries from his current vantage, both members of Sond’s crew.  One was walking back and forth across the main deck, while the other sat on a barrel on the forecastle, his back against the solidity of the foremast.

But the source of the sound wasn’t either man, but a shadowed figure that appeared on the narrow stairs that led down to the main deck.  Bredan lacked the special vision that all of his companions possessed, but he didn’t need it to recognize the familiar presence of Xeeta.  She was carrying a cup of steaming liquid, which she handed over to him as she joined him at the aft rail.

“Coffee,” she said.  “Thought you might want something to help keep you awake on watch.”

“Thanks,” he said.  He sipped at the liquid, but it was still too hot.

“So,” she said.  “What about you and my brother?”

“Brother?” Bredan asked.

“There’s no way to know for sure,” she said.  “But what happened in Li Syval suggests that we’re more closely related than we thought.  We had different mothers, but we never were told who—or what—our fathers were.”  She didn’t mention the look that the horned devil had given her as it stepped back through the portal into its own world.  “I spoke with Quellan, and he said that the ritual Kalev used, there would have had to have been a strong link between us for the magic to bring him here, all the way from the Silverpeak Valley.”

“There isn’t anything between me and Rodan,” Bredan said.  “Not right now.”

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Xeeta said.

“He wouldn’t be here right now if not for that damned book,” Bredan said.  “None of us would be here.”

“He chose to join this expedition,” Xeeta said.  “We all did.  I asked him why.  He told me that he never thought it would be up to our kind to help save the world.”

“We’re not saving the world,” Bredan said absently.

“That’s what I told him,” Xeeta said.  “Sometimes… saving each other’s enough.”

Bredan sipped his coffee and put his other arm around her.  “I am glad you’re here,” he said.

“Will you talk to him?”

“You’re starting to sound like Glori,” he said.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“No.  All right.  I’ll talk to him.  I promise.”

“Good,” she said.

He sipped again at the coffee.  “How are you doing?” he asked.

She stared out at the open sea, beyond the waves that frothed as they passed over the hidden reef that warded the natural harbor.  She didn’t need to ask what he meant.  “I thought I would know what it would mean to come back,” she said.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” he said.

“It’s not that.  Not just that.  I’m glad that bastard Kalev got what was coming to him, anyway.  I’m not sure I can explain it.”

“I know how you feel,” he said.

She looked up at him.  “I guess you do.”

He released her and started to take another drink, but hesitated.  For a moment he’d thought he’d heard something over the constant gush of the pumps.  At first he couldn’t see the sentry on the main deck, but when he took a few steps forward he could see the man, now leaning on the rail with his back to the island.  A plume of smoke rose from his mouth, briefly hanging in the air before the night breeze caught hold of it.

But the man on the forecastle was gone.  He might have slipped below for a moment, but…

“Bredan, what…” Xeeta asked, but he lifted a hand for quiet.  He listened intently, and finally heard something, a soft scrape against the wood of the ship.

He quickly made his way over to the side of the ship that faced out toward the ocean, and leaned over the rail.  The starlight did not provide much in way of illumination, but it was enough for him to make out the humanoid forms climbing up the side of the ship.  A face that was in no way human looked up at him and let out a harsh hiss.

“Attack!” he yelled, summoning his sword.  “We’re under attack!”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 249

Dark figures swarmed over the rail onto the main deck of the _Golden Gull_.  The sailor on duty barely had a chance to draw his cutlass before one of the attackers drove a spear through his side.  Another seized hold of him and snapped gaping jaws around his neck, tearing out a bloody gobbet of flesh.  The sailor’s screams trailed off into a wet gurgle, but that lasted only briefly before the creature dragged him to the rail and threw him over.  He hit the water with a loud splash even as more of the things crept on board.

Bredan returned to the rail, where the creature he had spotted was quickly surging up toward the raised aft deck.  The thing saw him and lunged for the railing, but Bredan intercepted it with a powerful downward thrust of his sword.  The steel pierced its body and knocked it roughly back into the water.  But more were coming.

Xeeta was ringing the alarm bell that hung next to the ship’s wheel, just in case any of the crew had failed to hear Bredan’s shout of alarm.  She turned as another crested the railing, meeting it with a series of _scorching rays_.  Only one of the fiery beams actually hit the target, the other two shooting past it out into the night sky, but that was enough to dislodge it from its precarious perch and send it flailing back into the water.  Another one managed to get over the railing, but before it could unlimber its spear Bredan met it with a sweeping cut of his blade that tore through its body almost to its spine.  The thing flopped to the deck in a bloody mess, giving Bredan his first good look at their adversaries.

The thing was shaped like a man, but there all resemblance ended.  It looked as though some madman had taken the features of a man, a fish, and a lizard and somehow jumbled them all together.  Its flesh was slimy and scaled, with a deep green hue that looked gray in the pale starlight.  It had gills, along with flaps of skin that protruded from the sides of its head and pulsed as the thing gasped out the last of its life.  Its hands and feet were webbed, and it wore a harness of some sort of leather that let it carry its weapons as well as bits of shell that served it as armor.

Bredan stared down at the dying creature in horror.  “Do you know what those are?” he asked Xeeta.

“Never saw one before!” she replied.

For the moment the aftercastle seemed secure, but the sounds of activity drew them toward the main deck.  The two adventurers rushed forward to see a swarm of the things crawling over almost the entire length of the ship to the bow, at least a dozen of them.

“A _fireball_ would be perfect right now,” Xeeta said.  “But it could destroy the ship!”

“We need to buy some time!” Bredan returned.  Neither of them had spoken loudly, but one of the fish-creatures turned and saw them, shouting something to its companions as it pointed with his spear.  Several of the creatures immediately rushed toward the stairs that led up to the aft deck.

Bredan was there to meet them, blocking the top of the stairs so that the creatures could not easily flank him and Xeeta.  He batted aside the thrust of the first spear and swung his sword into the creature’s side, cutting a deep gash in its torso.  There wasn’t much room to swing his larger weapon in the confines of the stairs, but conversely it was almost impossible to miss with the things crowding forward into the narrow space.  He followed his first swing with a thrust that pierced the thing’s rubbery hide and knocked it sprawling into its following companions.  But even as the creature fell limp its companions came surging forward, trampling their dying ally in their eagerness to overcome their foe.

Bredan drew back and reset his feet, bringing his sword back up into a ready stance.  But before he could engage the remaining creatures, another down on the deck below came into view.  This one was clad in an ornate glitter of shell necklaces and bracelets that rattled as it moved.  It lacked a spear or any other obvious weapon, but it proved that it did not need one as it extended one clawed finger toward Bredan.  The warrior could do nothing as he felt a cold feeling pulse through his body, freezing his muscles and leaving him helpless as the two fish-men charged forward, their spears raised to finish him.


----------



## carborundum

Checks calendar...
Yup, it's Friday, cliffhanger day


----------



## Lazybones

What's better than a Friday cliffhanger? A bonus Monday cliffhanger!

* * * 

Chapter 250

Held paralyzed by the fish-man shaman’s spell, Bredan could do nothing to stop the two creatures that came hurling up the stairs toward him.

But even as they started thrusting their spears at him, Xeeta appeared at his side.  Holding out her rod, she poured a stream of fire down the stairs.  The _burning hands_ engulfed both creatures and spilled out onto the deck below, driving back several others that had approached the stairs.  Xeeta tried to direct the flames up and away from the ship as much as possible, but in that confined space there was little she could do to stop exposed wood and rope from smoldering once the initial gout of fire faded.  One of the creatures in the forefront stumbled backwards, clutching at its charred head, while the second slipped on the blood left from the first creature that Bredan had taken down and dropped to the deck.  Bredan’s armor appeared to have stopped the worst of the spear-hits he’d taken, but Xeeta could see blood trickling down his side as he fought to throw off the effects of the spell.

“I can’t dispel this,” she told him.  “You have to fight it off!”

But from the look in his eyes, he was already giving it his best effort.  Xeeta scanned the lower deck for the enemy spellcaster, but it had already slipped back into the press of the creatures.  Still more of them were gaining the main deck, and she knew that more would be charging up toward them within moments.

But familiar cries of battle told her that reinforcements had finally arrived.  Both the forward and aft hatches had swung open, and both her friends and the crew of the _Gull_ joined the fray.  The first sailor to emerge was pierced by several spears and dropped to the ground, but others quickly followed, slashing at the fish-men with their cutlasses.

They might have been quickly overwhelmed, if not for the intervention of the ship’s passengers.  Kosk and Quellan charged into a knot of the creatures, distracting them from the hard-pressed sailors.  More of the fish-men rushed toward the fray, but were met by Kalasien and his soldiers, who quickly left one of the monsters bleeding out on the deck and several others sporting serious wounds.  Glori and Rodan were last to arrive but quickly put their blades to work on stragglers that were still trying to clamber over the rail.

Xeeta shot the fish-man struggling to get back up at her feet with a _fire bolt_ that put him down for good.  She took up a protective stance in front of Bredan that gave her a good view of the main deck.  Searching for the shaman, she finally spotted the bejeweled thing huddling in the lee of the forecastle.  As she watched the creature made a gesture, and several fish-men who had appeared to be on the brink of death moments ago surged back to their feet and rejoined the fray.  Xeeta lifted her rod, but she did not have a clear line of fire that wouldn’t risk a major blaze if she missed.

Instead, she yelled, “Kosk!  The caster!”

The dwarf looked up, saw her, and followed the line of her pointed rod toward its target.  He immediately charged into the mass of just-restored fish-men, knocking one of them back to the deck with a snap of his staff to its neck.

Xeeta turned back to check on Bredan, but was distracted by the appearance of another of the creatures on the aft rail.  This one was big, almost twice the size of the ones they’d battled thus far, but as it climbed up onto the deck of the ship, she could see something else that sent a cold spike of fear through her gut.

The creature had _four_ arms.  Even as it gained the deck it used two of them to unsling a huge three-pronged spear from across its back.  Spotting Xeeta and the still-helpless Bredan, it let out a hiss of challenge and then surged forward to attack.


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## carborundum

Yes! Love the sahuagin, and the classic four-armed version  
I used them to great effect in my Savage Tide game, and another of my all-time favourite story hours actually opens with a sahuagin attack. (http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...s-Eberron-SH-(Finished-The-Last-Word-9-20-15) )


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## Lazybones

Yep, they're classic villains, all the way back to the Saltmarsh series of modules. Always a threat when your campaign takes things out onto the seas.

* * * 

Chapter 251

With no choice, at least not if she wanted to protect the still-helpless Bredan, Xeeta stepped forward to confront the mutated fish-man leader.

She raised her rod as it charged, blasting it with a triad of _scorching rays_.  All three of the blasts struck it, but the four-armed monstrosity shrugged off what had to be considerable pain and pressed its attack.  It thrust at her with its trident.  Xeeta had conjured her _mage armor_ as soon as Bredan had sounded the alert, but it did little to stop the sharp tines that pierced her side and knocked her roughly back to the bloody deck.  She tried to crawl away, but looked up to see the massive creature looming over her, its weapon raised again to finish her off.  She raised a hand, trying to gather her magic over the intense pain of her wound, knowing she would be too late.

But even as the trident thrust down it struck a glowing barrier that materialized above her and turned the deadly strike.  The _shield_ dissolved as Bredan leapt through it, sweeping his sword at the fearsome creature.  The baron was clad in more substantial armor than its lesser minions, but the blade carved through the layered material and tore a shallow gash in its side.

As the two warriors engaged in their solitary contest atop the aft deck, the tide was beginning to turn on the main deck below.  The defenders were still outnumbered, especially as the priestess continued to channel healing magic into her warriors, but the adventurers unleashed a devastating wave of attacks into them.  Quellan fired a _guiding bolt_ into the spellcaster that struck her in the chest and surrounded her with a limning aura that shone like a beacon across the deck.  Kosk sighted in on that, darting through a tangled knot of warriors while somehow avoiding their desperate attacks.  The last of the priestess’s bodyguards tried to simply tackle him, but he leapt to the side, kicked off of the forward bulkhead, and spun into a devastating kick that knocked the creature sprawling.  Her momentum caused her to slide over the slick deck to the gap in the railing, where she disappeared, followed a moment later by a loud splash.

The furious fish-man warriors rushed in to seek their vengeance on the monk, but before they could reach him Glori blasted them with a wave of _fear_.  The spell did not affect all of them, but fully half their number turned and in a panic followed their leader over the edge of the ship.  None of the companions assumed that they were gone for good, but it meant that the fish-man warriors found themselves on the defensive as Kosk and Kalasien’s soldiers charged into them.  The Arreshian agent himself was briefly pinned by a creature that leapt down from the foredeck.  It trapped his rapier under its arm as it tried to bite him in the face, but Kalasien made a blade with his fist and drove it into the creature’s throat.  It staggered back, choking, giving him space to free his weapon and thrust it through the creature’s heart.

The crew of the _Gull_ had formed a half-circle around the forward hatch, barely holding back another half-dozen of the creatures, but the tide there turned as well as Captain Sond entered the fray.  She rushed into the largest knot of the things, evading a spear that poked at her as she passed.  She looked almost comical surrounded by the much larger warriors, at least until she lifted a hand and summoned forth a spell.  A pulsing blast of sonic energy exploded through the fish-men, staggering them, while tendrils of electricity shot out from her body, jolting the creatures nearest to her.  The sahuagin immediately turned on her, eager to destroy the dangerous halfling, but even as they raised their spears a sudden gust of wind surged across the deck.  It rippled past the warriors and seized the tiny woman, lifting her up into the rigging of the aft mast, a good ten feet above the fray.  A few of the sahuagin tried to stab at her, but she quickly ascended out of their reach.

Sond’s sailors were quick to take advantage of the opening, surging into the distracted and wounded creatures with their cutlasses swinging.

Bredan and the fish-man baron fought their way back and forth across the aft deck, exchanging violent blows that soon left both combatants bleeding despite their armor.  Bredan had learned that he had not only the creature’s trident to worry about; his elbow blazed with pain where it had briefly seized him in its powerful jaws.  With its four arms it could grapple as well as attack, and he already knew it was at least as strong as he was.

He summoned another _shield_ as the creature thrust at him again with its long weapon, but too late realized that the attack was a feint.  He tried to shift to the side, but was caught again as it snapped its jaws around his forearm, pulling him off-balance.  He dropped his sword as it grabbed him its extra arms and hurled him toward the side of the ship.

He hit the rail and for a moment tottered on its edge, his upper body dangling over the water below.  He looked down and saw that the water had been churned into a white froth by large fish equipped with very large jaws.  _Sharks_, he thought, understanding now why the fish-men had thrown their victims overboard.  Not that it would matter in his case; with the weight of his armor he’d sink to the bottom like a stone.

He clung to the rail and was able to keep from going over, but he turned back to see the giant creature charging toward him.  Xeeta blasted it with a pair of _fire bolts_, but even though the second struck it in the neck, inflicting a serious burn, the thing did not even flinch and kept on coming.

Trapped against the rail, Bredan felt a surge of power come unbidden.  Time seemed to slow around him as the magic coursed through him.  The creature was a canny adversary, but suddenly he could see its next move as if watching it unfold before him.  It looked like it was going to push him right through the railing and off the ship, but at the last moment it would stop and impale him with its trident, even though the weapon seemed to hang forgotten at its side.

In Bredan’s attenuated state, it felt like he was waiting for hours for the foretold action to happen.  But finally, the last webbed foot struck the deck, and the thing’s entire body began to shift in its motion.

Bredan was already moving.  The trident tore past him, the closest tine passing so close that it scraped along the side of his breastplate.  The baron reacted quickly, lashing out with one of its surplus arms, but Bredan ducked under that as well.  He spun, his entire body adding momentum to the swing as his sword swept up and caught it under the lower arm on its left side.  The magically-enhanced steel tore through armor, flesh, and bone, and then the arm was flying through the air, leaving a jet of dark blood in its wake.

Bredan hit the deck and came up into a roll.  The terrible wound he’d inflicted had staggered the creature, but was not enough to kill it.  But even as it spun around to face him, he planted his feet and thrust forward as he rose.  The point of his sword pierced the creature’s chest.  Bredan knew it was a killing thrust even before he saw the look on the monster’s face.  It knew, too.  It tried to grab hold of the sword, but its strength was already failing even before it toppled over backwards.  The abused railing could not absorb its weight, and it shattered, sending the creature over into the water.

For a moment Bredan just stood there, catching his second wind.  He turned to Xeeta, who was up again but was clutching her side where the baron’s trident had scored her.  “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” she said.

They headed forward to the edge of the deck, sword and spell at the ready, but they were not needed.  Even as the pair watched the last of the fish-men on the main deck leapt over the side, most of them trailing blood from nasty wounds.  They left behind nearly a score of the creatures, slashed and blasted and shot with black-fletched arrows.  Kosk was already moving among the things, making certain of the nearest ones, while Quellan and Glori had rushed to the aid of the wounded.  The bard looked up and saw the two of them there, and offered a salute that Bredan slowly returned.

“Another victory,” Xeeta said.

“Yes,” Bredan said, looking at the sailors lying on the deck, some still struggling as the healers fought to bring them back from the brink.  “I’m not sure how many more of these we can survive.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 252

Dawn found the _Golden Gull_ still resting at anchor in the island cove, though it was doubtful that any of its passengers or crew still considered the place a shelter.

The sun was still hidden behind the bulk of the island when Bredan made his way up onto the main deck of the ship, but he still blinked against the light of the morning.  He had only gotten a few hours’ sleep and still felt groggy.  His wounds burned and his shoulder was still sore; the injury he’d taken in the fight with the crocodile had been aggravated when the four-armed fish-man had thrown him halfway across the after deck of the _Gull_ last night.  He’d refused magical healing, as there were others who’d needed it more.

He didn’t see Glori or Quellan about; likely both were still asleep.  The spellcasters needed lots of rest in order to regain their spells.  He still didn’t think of himself in the same terms, although his magic had again helped to save his life in last night’s fray.

The deck was mostly cleared now, though there were still signs of the battle everywhere he looked.  A few of the hands were cleaning away blood with buckets and sponges, but there were far more tasks that required immediate action.  Getting away from here seemed like a possible priority, he thought as he spotted Captain Sond standing on the forward edge of the after deck.  She was speaking with Kosk.  He hurried over to them, stepping carefully over the bulk of the new mast.

As he climbed the stairs that led up to the aftcastle he had a flashback to the desperate battle.  Just a few hours earlier he’d stood in almost that exact spot, though then he’d been trying to keep invaders from reaching the top.  The sense of helplessness he’d felt when the enemy caster’s magic had frozen his body was among one of the most terrifying experiences he’d ever had.  Had it taken even just a few more seconds for him to break free, Xeeta might have been killed, or maybe both of them.  Had the four-armed leader gained the aftcastle unhindered, it might then have been able to turn the battle in favor of the invaders.

Sond and Kosk both nodded to him as he stepped onto the upper deck, and he forced himself to shake off those dark thoughts.  Last night was done and over; now they had to focus on getting out of here alive.

“Captain, Kosk,” he said.  “Did you ever figure out what those things were?”

“Sea devils,” Sond said immediately.  “Never fought them myself, but I’ve heard plenty of tales from sailors who said they had.”

“Quellan said that the formal term is ‘sahuagin,’” Kosk added.  “They live under the sea, but apparently can spend brief periods of time above the surface.  They’re extremely violent and worship dark gods.”

“That seems consistent with what we saw,” Bredan said.  “How many more did we lose, Captain?”

“Four of my men didn’t survive,” Sond said.  “It would have been more, but for the quick intervention of your healers.”

“They’ve saved our lives more than once,” Bredan said.

“The question now is whether they’ll come back,” Kosk said.  “We hit them hard, and killed their leader—well done, by the way—but their shaman survived, along with many of their warriors.”

“And we have no idea how many they have under there,” Bredan said, nodding toward the water.

“We’re keeping watch to all sides,” Sond said.  “The water’s clear enough that we should see them coming, if they venture another incursion during the day.”

“So we’re staying?” Bredan asked.

The halfling shook her head.  “It’s not by choice.  We’re still in no shape for a long voyage.  We’re making as many repairs to the hull as we can, but there’s only so much that can be done while we’re in the water.  Your friend the bard was very helpful there.”

Bredan nodded, familiar with Glori’s _mending_ spell.  “They might wait until the next nightfall to try something again.”

“It’s my hope that we can be underway by then,” Sond said.  “If we can sail on the evening tide, we might leave them behind.  We agree that it’s likely that their lair is somewhere around the base of the island, close enough to the surface that they detected our approach.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to get the mast installed by then?” Bredan asked.

“The rigging and sails might have to wait.  But I understand that you were a smith.”  At his nod she said, “Then your help would be much appreciated, if you’re up to it.”

“If it helps us get away from this island faster, then I’m up to it,” Bredan said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 253

Quellan woke and blinked against the intensity of the light that sifted in through the dirty porthole.  It was already well into the day by the looks of it.  He was alone in the cabin.  He felt a momentary pang of guilt that his companions had let him sleep while they were already up and contributing to the repairs that had been a constant effort over the last few days, ever since they’d slipped away from what the crew was calling Crocodile Island on the evening tide.

Such feelings were foolish, he thought as he got up, used the chamber pot, and got dressed.  His armor he left where it was; it would only get in the way on ship, and if he was knocked off the ship for some reason it would be a death sentence.  He knew that ensuring that he—and Glori—got an uninterrupted long rest was important for the sake of the entire expedition.  Over each of the last few days he’d burned his entire reservoir of spells.  It was mostly healing, though the men he and Glori had treated after the desperate fight against the sahuagin would have recovered on their own, given time.  But with a million tasks that needed doing, getting everyone healthy and able to work had been a priority.

But he’d also used his magic to help with the repairs.  Here the flexibility that he had as a cleric gave him the advantage over Glori.  While she had only a small cohort of spells that she could cast, he could pray for divine aid each day, selecting magic that suited their current situation.  He’d already used that power to create water, augmenting the supplies that they hadn’t been able to refresh at the island.  He’d enhanced the strength of various members of the crew, a boon that had been especially helpful when they’d raised the new mast.  He’d even been able to summon magic to allow a party of crewmembers to be able to walk on water.  The sailors had been quite nervous at first, even with ropes tied to them to ensure they didn’t drift away from the ship, but ultimately it had enabled them to make at least a few repairs to the battered hull of the _Gull_.

His morning preparations complete, Quellan knelt facing the porthole and opened his mind to his god.  As always, he felt a sense of awe as he tapped into the divine wellspring that fueled his magic.  To his surprise, he felt his awareness expand as he concentrated on channeling that power into the spells he would retain for the day.  As it had so many times already since they had left Crosspath roughly a year ago, his ability to tap into that power had increased.

“Thank you,” he said, as he focused on locking the assorted spells into his mind.  Once again, he chose magic that he thought would help the ship, its crew, and its passengers.  It was not something that one could predict with any surety, and he often worried that he would fail, that someone he cared about would need magic that was beyond his reach due to the choices he’d made.  But he was used to that uncertainty and did not let it delay him long.

He paused at the door to the cabin that Glori and Xeeta shared.  He placed his hand on the wood but didn’t knock or try to enter.  He missed Glori, especially as the trip dragged on, but knew that right now they had to focus on their mission, and keeping each other safe.  His sense of duty felt heavier than any armor as he turned down the corridor toward the hatch.

As he made his way up onto the deck, he could feel the steady pulse of the ship around him.  The gentle rocking did not bother him as much as it had; it was a reminder that the _Gull_ was alive and well.  He could hear the bustle and shouts of the crew even before he made his way up through the hatch onto the main deck.  It still amazed him the way that they would climb high up into the rigging, only one misplaced hand or unexpected gust away from plummeting to the deck below.

He looked at the mast, now held in place by a ring of wooden staves tightly banded with coils of pounded iron.  Bredan had helped with that, putting the skills from his past life to use.  The mast still had a jury-rigged look to it, with partial rigging and only one sail, but it was better than what they’d had when they’d left the island.

As he came fully out onto the deck, he caught sight of Kalasien.  “Good morning,” he said to the Arreshian agent.

“Quellan,” the man said.

“Seems to be holding, so far,” Quellan said, gesturing toward the mast but then broadening it to include the whole ship.

“A tough vessel,” Kalasien said.

“Did Captain Sond have anything new to say today?” Quellan asked.

Kalasien shook his head.  “Just that the repairs seem to be holding for now, and that if we avoid any more rough weather we should reach Weltarin in a few days.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Quellan said.

“Yes.  The sooner we get there, the sooner we can do what we came here to do.  Excuse me.”

He slipped past and went down through the hatch before Quellan could manage more than a lame, “Ah, see you later.”

The cleric made his way over to the staircase that led up to the aftcastle.  Captain Sond was there, along with the helmsman and Torrin, her first mate after the loss of her first in the storm.  Bredan and Kosk were also there, talking with the captain.  Both men waved as they saw him.

Quellan walked over to join them.  “Everything all right?” he asked.

“So far, she’s holding together,” Sond said.  The halfling woman looked exhausted, with deep bags under her eyes and a paleness to her flesh that spoke of the concern she had for her vessel and its crew.  Quellan knew she’d been drawing deep upon her magic, using it to keep the wind from putting too much strain on the new mast.  He thought of the amount of energy it took to cast his own spells and had a new appreciation for the tiny woman’s force of will.

“But something’s not right?” he prodded.

She gave him a hard look, perhaps not knowing how much she was letting show in her expression and manner.  “She’s feeling a little sluggish,” she said.

“Understandable, given the damage she’s suffered,” Quellan said.

“There could be some damage to the rudder, or something else,” Sond said.  “I was considering heading down to take a look.”

“Into the water?” Quellan asked.  “Isn’t that dangerous?  I mean, while we’re underway?”

“I don’t see any harbors around,” Sond said.

“That’s not the only problem,” Bredan said, nodding toward the aft rail behind him.  Quellan went over to take a look.  It only took him a moment to notice the forms just visible around the ship’s wake.

“Sharks,” he said.  “Do you think that means the sahuagin are still following us?”

“Even with half sails and the damage to the hull, we’re moving pretty well,” Sond said.  “It’s not unusual for sharks to follow a ship’s wake, but we haven’t been tossing slops or dumping waste since I noticed them.”

“Won’t they, ah, eat anyone who goes into the water to take a look at the keel of the ship?” Quellan asked.

The captain managed a grin that restored some of her usual manner.  “That is a complication, yes.”

“I might be able to offer an alternative,” Quellan said.

“Alternative to what?” Glori asked, as she stepped up onto the aft deck, followed by Xeeta.

As Quellan turned to look at her, he could not help but smile.  Her clothes were starting to look a little threadbare, and she had a bit of a sunburn on her neck and ears, but the wind caused her hair to form a halo around her features, framing her face in a way that set off her natural beauty.  She quirked a brow and shot him a sly grin in return.

“Ship’s holding together but is a bit sluggish, Captain Sond was going to take a swim with the sharks to take a look, but Quellan might have some magic to use instead,” Bredan said.  “There, you’re caught up.”

“You were saying,” Sond prompted.

“Ah, yes,” Quellan said.  “I have a spell that enables remote viewing from a safe distance.  It might work.”

“Well then, let’s try it,” Sond said.  “We can always drown ourselves later if it doesn’t work.”

They formed a half-circle around the cleric, giving him room to work his magic.  Torrin took a few not-so-subtle steps away, making a hex-mark with his fingers.  It was a reminder that while magic infused every part of their world, most ordinary people were still wary of its workings, especially when other-worldly entities were involved.

Quellan ignored all of them, already focused on his spellcasting.  He took up his holy symbol and closed his eyes.  His voice sounded slightly deeper, subtly changed, as he intoned,

_Lorekeeper, grant me sight beyond sight,
Open my inner eye,
Reveal to me secrets kept hidden,
Brighten the light within shadow._

As the companions watched his holy symbol began to glow faintly, and a moment later a similar glow materialized directly in front of him.  It lasted only a moment, but they caught a brief glimpse of a small translucent sphere, eerily like the eye it was supposed to replace.  Then it faded from view.

“That’s cool,” Glori said.

“Impressive,” Xeeta said.  “I have heard of the _arcane eye_… it is a powerful spell.  I did not know that Quellan had mastered it.”

Quellan’s eyes remained closed as he maintained the concentration on his spell.  Bredan and Glori looked over the railing but could not see when the tiny eye entered the water.

“Can it see underwater?” Bredan asked.

“It has darkvision,” Quellan said.  “I don’t see anything… wait.”

“What is it?” Sond asked.

“There’s something there, I think.  I… ah!”

He jumped, causing a few of the witnesses to start as well.  “What?” Glori asked.

“Sorry,” Quellan said.  “A shark, it startled me.  Hold on, let me get my bearings again.”  The others watched while he focused, his brow furrowed with concentration.  “There’s something there, attached to the ship.”

“What is it?” Sond repeated.

“I don’t know.  It’s shaped like a claw, looks like it’s made of metal.  It’s embedded in the hull.  Big, as big around as one of those rope baskets.  There’s something inside it, I can’t quite make it out, it looks like a sack or bundle of some sort.”

“Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be there,” Sond said.  “And I doubt that whoever put it there means anything but ill will for the _Gull_ and her crew.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 254

Leaving the aft deck to Torrin, Sond rushed forward and began issuing orders.  The crew responded quickly, gathering long coils of thick hemp rope and taking them to the bow of the ship.  They began fastening them together, tying multiple knots in the center of what became a strand almost a hundred feet long.

“What are they doing?” Bredan asked.

“They’re rigging a keel line,” Quellan explained.  “They’ll run the rope down the length of the ship and try to dislodge the object.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

The cleric shook his head; he had no answer.

It didn’t take long to get the rope rigged.  Several crew members on each side of the ship walked it back, passing it around the rigging and other obstacles.  Finally, they reached the aftcastle.  Bredan could see the moment when they hooked on their passenger.  He joined them in taking the ropes as far back as they could go and then pulling the rope back and forth in an effort to dislodge the object.  But they only managed to slip the rope free.  At Sond’s order, the men on the both sides quickly added slack and rushed to the forward end of the aftcastle before the line could foul the rudder.

“Maybe we could try it from back to front,” Bredan said.

“No,” Sond said.  “Get it taut again, about where the obstruction is,” she told her men.  While the sailors moved the line back into position, she took up one of the ends of the rope and used her belt knife to cut a small loop a few feet in length.  She went over to the starboard rail.  “Bring it up as far as you can,” she said to the sailors there.  They pulled up the rope as much as they could while allowing the men on the opposite rail a good grip.

“What are you thinking of doing?” Glori asked Sond.

The halfling found one of the knots in the rope and attached her small length of rope there.  She made a circle that she twined around her wrist a few times.

“Captain,” Quellan said.  “Maybe… ah, maybe one of us should do this.”

“It’s my ship,” Sond said.  “And before you make a comment about our respective sizes, you should know that I am not planning on relying upon physical strength.”  She twisted her head and free arm around, making sure that her muscles were limber, before she went up to the rail.

“I’ve never seen anyone volunteer to take a keelhauling before,” Rodan said.

Sond leapt up onto the railing, and gestured to her sailors to make ready.  But before she could go over the side the ship shuddered, and then lurched heavily.

Quellan quickly grabbed for Sond, but the captain had already spun and dropped back to the deck, freeing herself from the rope.  Bredan looked over the side, in time to see a dark shadow pass below the ship.  The only detail that he could make out was that whatever it was, it was _huge_.  It faded as whatever it was sank back under the surface.

Bredan looked over to see Glori standing at the railing beside him.  “Uh oh,” she said.


----------



## carborundum

YIKES!


----------



## Lazybones

A little... _rounder_... 

* * * 

Chapter 255

“What is it?” Glori yelled.

Sond was already running over to the platform that jutted from the front of the aftcastle.  “I don’t know, but it’s big enough to snap this ship in two,” she said.  “All sails out!” she cried.  “Ready weapons!”

Her crew rushed to obey, even as Sond lifted her arms and summoned her magic.  The response was immediate, and the improvised main sail filled as the wind stirred at her bidding.

“Will the new mast take it?” Bredan asked.

“We’ll find out,” Sond said grimly.

The ship lurched and then shuddered again as it suffered a glancing blow from whatever was below them.  The mast groaned ominously but held as the ship picked up speed.  The crew got every bit of sail they could rig onto the masts, and the _Gull_ bounced as it cut through the waves, but the crew and passengers remained tense as they awaited another attack.

“Think we can outrun it?” Kosk asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  “Maybe it will decide that we’re not edible.”

A shout from the rigging above drew everyone’s attention.  “Coming again, to starboard!”

The companions rushed to that side of the ship in time to see a dark shadow rise up out of the deep.  “Hard to port!” Sond yelled.  The entire ship listed as the helmsman obeyed the order, and the tiny halfling altered the wind to compensate.

“Here it comes!” Glori yelled, a scant heartbeat before the creature breached the surface.

It was massive, larger than any creature the companions had ever seen.  It looked like it might even be bigger than the _Gull_, though it was difficult to be sure with most of its body below the surface.  It looked like a giant turtle, with a huge armored shell and massive flippers that could obviously propel it at great speed. But the flippers culminated in scaled claws, and the head that emerged from the sea was that of a fearsome dragon.  It opened its jaws wide and let out a massive roar that overpowered the senses of the people on the ship, a moment before it rose up and collided with the vessel itself.

The _Gull_ reversed its tilt, being pulled over to the other side by the weight of the dragon turtle.  The masts swayed dangerously, and one crewman was knocked free of the rigging, screaming as he plummeted into the sea just beyond the creature’s massive shell.  Those on the deck scrambled to hold on to anything they could find, and several fell, sliding across the deck until they struck the starboard railing.

Bredan had rushed down to the main deck to get closer to the enemy.  He rallied the sailors there who were tentatively holding crossbows.  Kalasien and his men had come onto deck as well, carrying their own missile weapons.  “Let that thing have it!” Bredan yelled.  He had summoned his sword, but even with its surge up out of the water it was still well out of his reach.  The others around him began to fire their bows at the creature, focusing on its head.  But most of their shots merely bounced off its hide, those that weren’t deflected by its shell or which landed uselessly in the water.

But while the crew’s initial attacks were almost useless, Bredan’s companions were quick to unleash their own weapons and spells upon the monster.  Glori tried to infest its mind with _fear_, but the spell seemed to have no effect.  Quellan tried to hit it with a _guiding bolt_, but the stream of divine energy went wide and bounced harmlessly off its shell.  Xeeta blasted it with a series of _scorching rays_, but while she managed a direct hit on its scaled head, the flames did not appear to have much effect.

“It’s resistant to fire!” she warned.

The crew and Kalasien’s soldiers continued shooting, but even though a few bolts now jutted from its hide, they didn’t seem to be having much of an impact.  Rodan had appeared and rushed up onto the forecastle, leaning dangerously over the rail with one leg looped around one of the rope stays anchored to the side of the ship.  He tried to put an arrow into one of its eyes, but between the creature’s movements and the bucking of the ship he could only manage to get one hit further back along its no-doubt extremely thick skull.

A crewman rushed onto the main deck, carrying an armload of large harpoons.  Bredan saw him and ran toward him, but before he could reach the man the dragon turtle opened its jaws wide.  A hissing sound like the workings of the largest bellows ever made rose from within its body.  Quellan’s eyes widened, and he yelled, “Get back!  Everyone, get to cover!”

But his warning came too late.  As the dragon turtle’s claws tightened their grip on the ship’s hull it unleashed a blast of boiling steam that washed over the main deck of the _Gull_, the edge of it reaching as far as the forward part of the aftcastle where most of the companions were gathered.  At least half a dozen crewmen on the main deck were killed instantly.  Quellan, still exposed along the railing, staggered back blistered and blinded.  He nearly fell, only the relentless endurance of his orcish heritage keeping him upright.  Glori, who’d gotten back in time to avoid the worst of it, ignored the pain of her own searing burns to rush to his aid.  Xeeta likewise caught the edge of the blast, but her own infernal resistance allowed her to withstand it.

Haverd had been reloading his crossbow when he’d heard Quellan’s warning.  He’d started to move toward cover when the creature’s breath weapon hit, but was still exposed when the blast of steam knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling to the deck.  As the ship tilted still further the unconscious warrior started sliding toward the railing, which had only been temporarily repaired after the storm.  Kosk saw him and leapt down from the aft deck, trying to grab hold of him as he slid past, but the steam had made the deck slick and the dwarf fell, nearly ending up going after him.  Kalasien had burrowed into a cluster of ropes where the rigging was attached to the rail, and might have been able to grab him before he hit, but he either didn’t see the approaching man or wasn’t able to help him.

Haverd hit the damaged railing and for a moment it looked as though the repairs would hold, but then then the abused wood collapsed and he went over.  The dragon turtle saw him and snapped him up in its huge jaws before he could hit the water.

Bredan pushed himself up, a bit dazed.  He’d been caught in the blast of steam as well, but he’d reacted instinctively, sweeping his sword up as if he could somehow block the searing jet with his steel.  That was insane, but he’d felt a surge of power that had somehow protected him from the worst of the deadly heat.  He’d done something similar in the fight with the devil in Li Syval, but there was no time to ponder the question now, as they were still in a deadly situation.  He’d seen Haverd go over the edge of the deck, and could see that several of his companions were likewise badly hurt.  Xeeta was still trying to hurl fire at the creature, but if it could breathe steam it probably wasn’t going to be hurt much by her magic.

He bent and picked up one of the harpoons that the crewman had brought up on deck.  The man was lying dead, the skin of his face and neck crinkled red by the gout of steam.  He let his sword disappear, knowing that its magic was still with him, and made his way carefully toward the part of the railing that was still intact.  The dragon turtle had dropped back into the water and the angle of the deck was more manageable, but he knew it would not release them until either it was dead or the ship was torn apart.

As he approached the canted edge of the deck, he heard a loud blast of sound.  For a moment he thought it was another attack, then he remembered Sond and her _shatter_ spell.

He looked over the edge of the deck into a maelstrom.  The creature looked even bigger now, if that was possible.  Its scaled head was pocked with arrows and bolts embedded shallowly into its hide, and scorch marks that had likely been inflicted by Xeeta’s magical assault.  But Bredan could see that the attacks were just pinpricks, non-lethal scratches that the monster might not even be able to feel.  Its jaws were covered in gore from consuming Haverd, and they opened again as it spotted Bredan at the rail, offering it defiance.

Bredan lifted the harpoon.  He let instinct guide him, summoning his magic, letting it course through his body.  He focused on the same target that Rodan had tried to hit, the bulbous, lidded globe of an eye.

The harpoon shot down.  For a moment as the eye blinked shut he thought that the throw was going to miss, but then it blinked open again, just as the hooked steel tip drove home.

The dragon turtle reared back, its claws tearing free with a snap of wood giving way.  Bredan shifted and nearly lost his grip on the railing.  The ship shuddered again as the creature’s head smashed into it, and then the _Gull_ bobbed up and clear as it was released.  Bredan remained tense until he saw the dark mass of the creature sink deeper into the water and finally fall behind them as the ship began to move forward again.

“Good throw, lad,” Kosk said.  The dwarf looked a mess, his forearms and face seared by the steam, but at least he was upright and functional.  The same could not be said for many of those still on the main deck of the _Gull_.  Quellan, restored somewhat by Glori’s curative magic, quickly made his way down to the main deck and went to the aid of those who could still be saved.


----------



## carborundum

Woah! So the thing under the hull was like a thumper from Dune?


----------



## Neurotic

*OOC:*


probably an egg, THE egg of the creature. Round, sticky and resilient.


----------



## carborundum

Good point! Thanks a nasty trick to play


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 256

Bredan had decided that maybe collapsing right there on the edge of the deck was a good idea when he saw Sond appear along the rail on the upper deck.  She grabbed hold of one of the stay ropes and leaned out over the edge, heedless of risk as she examined the side of her ship.

Kosk noticed it too.  “Looks like we may not be clear yet,” he said.

“Damage control party below!” Sond yelled, stirring sailors who were still able to respond to her orders.  After barking a series of quick commands to her helmsman and to Torrin, who had remained safely at their stations during the brief but intense clash with the dragon turtle, the halfling captain rushed down to the lower deck and hurried toward the aft hatch leading below.

Bredan followed her, curious despite his burns, which now that the fight was over were really starting to hurt.

Even after weeks at sea he still knew next to nothing about ships, but Bredan thought he could feel something wrong with the _Gull_.  It was similar to the way that the ship had felt after the storm, wounded and limping.  He followed Sond down past the crew deck, down to the cargo holds situated in the bowels of the ship.  Bredan had gone down here to work the pumps that removed the seepage from the bilge.  It had been difficult and exhausting work, but it was much preferred to the seamen who had actually had to crawl into the cramped and filthy bilge spaces to patch some of the holes that the storm had created.

This time, however, they didn’t get that far.  He caught up to Sond on the steps that led down into the cargo hold.  The space was already awash with water.  Empty barrels that hadn’t been lashed down sufficiently were bobbing in the flood.

“That doesn’t look good,” he said.

“No,” Sond said.  “We need light.  Bring a lamp,” she ordered one of her crewmen.  But even as the man started to hurry off, a bright glow filled the compartment.  Bredan hadn’t realized that the others had followed him until he saw Quellan step forward, the glow of his _light_ spell shining from his holy symbol.

“There were not many we could help,” the cleric said by way of explanation.

Bredan made room for the big half-orc to make his way down the steps.  Sond, crouched at the edge of the water, quickly pointed across the hold.  “There,” she said, pointing to a spot along the hull where a plume of water was just visible.

“Can we plug it?” Bredan asked.

“I won’t know until I can get a look at it,” Sond said.  She started forward into the water, which was clearly already over her head, but paused as Quellan took hold of her shoulder.  “I have a spell that may be able to help,” he said.

“All right,” Sond said.

The cleric closed his eyes and concentrated on his holy symbol.  The glow that surrounded the sigil of the book flickered, but then it steadied and brightened.  As it did the water that filled the cargo hold began to swirl and roil, as if caught in a whirlpool.  Sond stepped up from the water in alarm, but she and the others watching could quickly see that the cleric’s spell was quickly lowering the level of the water that flooded the space.  As it retreated, they could see that the source of the flooding was from a big hole in the side of the ship, right about at the level of the floor of the hold.  The breach was big enough that even Quellan would have been able to squeeze through it without difficulty.  From the jagged edges that surrounded the opening, it was obvious what had wrought the damage, even if the fight with the dragon turtle hadn’t been fresh on everyone’s minds.

Sond hurried over there even as the water continued to drain.  Bredan was quick to follow her in case the flow caught her up, but she grabbed hold of some of the ropes that tied down the pallets of cargo and had no difficulty managing the awkward approach.  Behind her, a few of her sailors came into the hold bearing tools and lengths of wood.

“Can you patch it?” Bredan asked.

Sond shook her head.  “A hole this big, it won’t be fast,” she said.  “If the patch isn’t anchored correctly the pressure will just blow it out again.  How long can you maintain your spell?” she asked Quellan.

“Another seven or eight minutes,” the cleric replied.

Sond met Bredan’s eyes and shook her head.

“Do you have any stone?” Glori asked.  Bredan turned to see the bard coming down the steps.  She looked as ragged as the rest of them, but she still commanded the room.  “It doesn’t have to be that thick, but it should be about the size of the hole.”

The sailors looked at each other and shook their heads, but after a moment Sond said, “The stove plate.  In the galley.”  She pointed to several of the sailors.  “Get it, now!”

“But it’s attached to the floor,” one began to protest, but Sond said, “Get it here in five minutes, or the lot of you are going overboard!”

The sailors dropped their burdens and hurried out.  “I’ll go with them,” Kosk said, pausing to pick up a claw-headed hammer.

Sond turned back toward the hole in her hull.  The water was still flowing out, but she could see the rest of the ocean now, just waiting to rush back in.  She reached out and ran a hand along the edge of the breach with a look of wonder on her face.  “This is a magic I must master someday,” she said.

It could not have been more than the allotted five minutes before the sailors reappeared, but to those waiting it felt like hours.  They were struggling with the weight of a stone circle about five feet across and a few inches thick.  They’d been able to roll it along the deck above, but they all had to work together to get it down the stairs without shattering it.  Kosk was in the center of the pack, directing them via sharp commands.

Quellan had stepped over to the side of the hold, his brow tight with the effort of maintaining the concentration on his spell.  It was clear that he would fight to extract every second he could, but they all felt the inexorable passage of time as they maneuvered the slab to the breach in the hull.  Glori directed them to lay it over the opening.

“We’ll never get it nailed over in time,” one of the men began to protest, but she gestured him back and then began to play her lyre.

Glori felt the magic gather around her as she played.  This was a new spell for her, one of those that was part of the enchantment within Majerion’s lyre.  She had practiced it a few times before they had sent out on this journey, but she had no idea if it would accomplish what she needed in this instance.  But with Quellan’s spell already starting to fade, and the wall of water just waiting to surge back into the wounded ship, she cast herself entirely into the working of the spell.

The stone block began to ripple, then it started to swell outwards.  It flowed _into_ the breach, merging with the shattered boards that remained, binding them to itself and each other, reforming the hull of the ship.  It did not take long, maybe ten, fifteen seconds, but when it was done the slab had _become_ the patch, and the side of the ship was whole again.

“Okay, _that_ one I need to learn,” Sond said.  “Will it hold?”

Glori wasn’t sure herself, and it wasn’t until Quellan’s spell ended and he came forward to join her that she finally spoke.  “It should be reinforced as soon as possible,” she said.

Sond nodded with a small smile that said she understood exactly the reason for the delay in her response.  “A wise precaution,” she said.  She gestured to her crew, who picked up their discarded materials and came over to the repaired breach.

“A creative application of that spell,” Quellan said to Glori.

“You too,” she said.  “You’re still hurt.”

“Others are hurt worse,” he said.

“What about the rest of the ship?” Bredan asked.

“I’ll have to go over every inch of her,” Sond said.  “I suspect that was the worst of it, but we still have a long way to go.”

“And hope that monster doesn’t come back,” Kosk said.

“I think we’ll outpace it,” Sond said.  “But there are worse things in the Blue Deep.”

She hurried back above, but the adventurers lingered a moment, looking at each other.  They didn’t say anything, but they all had the same thought on their minds.  _Worse than _that?


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 257

“Land ho!”

Bredan blinked and pulled himself up.  He was lying against a heap of rope and canvas on the foredeck.  He’d only intended to sit down for a minute, but must have fallen asleep.

A sharp wind ruffled his hair as he made his way over to the forward rail.  He couldn’t see anything on the horizon, but that wasn’t surprising; the lookout perched high atop the forward mast was a good twenty-five feet above him.  The seas had picked up since he’d come up from below a few hours ago; it was a testament to his exhaustion that the bouncing of the ship hadn’t disturbed him in the least.

He made his way down to the main deck.  His arms and legs still felt wooden and he was careful to hold onto the railing all the way down the steps.  The few members of the crew he saw offered him nods of respect.  He noted how the sighting hadn’t stirred any particular enthusiasm.

As he reached the main deck, he saw Rodan coming up from below.  “Land?” the tiefling asked.

“Apparently so,” Bredan said.  “Can’t see it yet from down here, but Sond’s been saying we’d hit Weltarin any day now.”

“Finally,” Rodan said.  “I wasn’t sure this old bucket was going to hold together this long.”  He gave Bredan a critical look.  “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Bredan said wryly.  “I finally got to spend some time in the bilges last night, helping the patch crews.  We wouldn’t have been able to get in there at all if not for Quellan’s water-moving magic, but even so it was pretty nasty.”

A sudden gust of wind rushed over the deck from an unexpected direction, tugging at their clothes and flaring their hair around their faces.  “Looks like we’re not the only ones who are tired,” Bredan said, glancing back at the high platform on the aftcastle.

“The seas are picking up,” Rodan said.

“Yeah, it seems like the Blue Deep wants one last crack at us before we reach dry land,” Bredan said.

The two men made their way toward the stern of the ship.  The wind straightened out again and the main sail billowed once more to drive the ship toward the distant shore.  As the pair made their way up the stairs to the aft deck, they could just make out the dark line on the horizon, offering at least a promise of safety after their multiple ordeals upon the ocean.

Captain Sond was at her station atop the platform, leaning heavily against the wooden post, a loop of rope around her chest holding her in place.  She looked tired, and her arms hung limply at her side.  Her first mate was just behind her, holding a spyglass, while Kosk and Kalasien were standing close by.  The dwarf seemed to have finally gotten his sea legs, or maybe it was the thought of seeing dry land that had brought him up here to witness the final stage of at least this part of their journey.

As Bredan and Rodan made their way over to them, the ship cut through a steep wave and shuddered.  A deep groaning sound came from the belly of the ship, loud enough to be alarming.

“Check below,” Sond ordered Torrin, who passed on the command to some of the sailors nearby.  But from the look on her face she already knew what they would find.

“What’s happening?” Bredan asked.

“The keel was damaged in the dragon turtle’s attack,” the halfling said.  “To be honest, I’m amazed it’s held together this long.”

The captain’s fatalistic mood affected Bredan more than all of his work over the last few days to keep the _Gull_ afloat.  “Will she make it?” he asked.

That question brought some of Sond’s usual pluck back to the surface.  “She will, if I have to go over the side and push.”

Quellan and Glori came up onto the deck together.  “We heard that land was sighted,” the cleric said.

“Aye,” Sond said, “But the _Gull’s_ handling like a drowned bird, and I have a feeling that these seas are wrecking some of our patchwork below.  Can you do that trick with the water again?”

“I will do my best,” Quellan said.

“Maybe I can help, with my _mending_ spell,” Glori said.  The two of them turned and headed quickly below.

“Anything the rest of us can do?” Rodan asked.

Sond gave him a quick look.  “If there are any gods you’re on friendly terms with, you could put in a good word for us.”


----------



## Lazybones

With today's post, we come to the end of book 10 of the story. Book 11 is the last one, though it is fairly long (we have a whole new continent to explore, after all). I felt some _Isle of Dread_ vibes while writing this one.

* * * 

Chapter 258

As the wounded _Gull_ crept slowly closer to the distant shore, more details of the new land became visible to those watching on the ship.  What they saw was not immediately encouraging.  The landscape was anything but friendly, with steep cliffs fronted by jutting rocks along most of the coastline.  Where the land actually descended to meet the water all they could see was dense jungle, again sheltered behind sharp rocks that shattered the breaking waves into plumes of white spray.

“That doesn’t look inviting,” Bredan said.

“The Black Coast,” Sond said.  Bredan turned to find that the captain was looking right at him.  After a moment she held out a hand, and Torrin handed over his spyglass to her.  She held it to her eye, scanning the distant shore.

“Two points to starboard,” she said.

The _Gull_ turned ponderously.  Bredan stepped over to the rail and looked over the side.  It was difficult to be certain, but it looked as the ship was sitting lower in the water now.  Bredan had no idea where the transition between “settling” and “sinking” was, but it was clear that the _Gull_ was getting closer to that point.

He returned as Sond was issuing more orders to Torrin.  “Prepare the boat,” she said.  “And start bringing up empty barrels and loose timber from below.  Food and water supplies as well.  Don’t clutter up the deck, but put it where we can get to it quickly if needed.”

“Aye, captain,” the mate said, hurrying off to implement her orders.

Bredan thought he should be helping, but all he could do was stare at the approaching coast.  The cliffs were of dark stone, set off by the white froth of the crashing waves below and the pale sky above.  _Black Coast indeed,_ he thought.

The altered course put them at an angle to the waves, and the ship began to twist more as it continued forward.  The mast creaked under the strain, but Sond kept feeding it wind carefully, keeping the ship on course and just under the point where mended canvas and bolstered wood would give way.  Her face was slick with the sweat of maintaining that effort, and Bredan felt a renewed respect for the diminutive woman.

As they got even closer, they could see that what they had taken for just another stretch of barren cliffs was in fact a promontory that jutted out from the line of the coast.  As they started to pass it a narrow sliver of white beach came into view, flanked by tall rocks that jutted from the sea like giant broken teeth.  Sond barked another order and the _Gull_ changed course again, heading for that narrow gap.  To Bredan it looked like there was no way that they could possibly fit, but he knew that distances were misleading and trusted the captain’s judgment.

“It’s the only thing that offers a decent chance,” Rodan said, answering Bredan’s unspoken thought.  He looked over at the tiefling and nodded.

The bustle of activity on the main deck was interrupted as the ship abruptly sagged and listed hard to the left.  Sond thrust her hand forward, a look of intense focus on her face as if it was her will alone that was keeping the _Gull_ afloat.  Slowly the ship rightened again, thought it continued to tilt slightly left as it lumbered through the rising surf.  Spray was crashing up over the decks now, dousing the men working to bring up cargo from below.  Bredan, finally jolted out of his reverie, hurried down to join them.  Heavy pulleys attached to the new mast were being used to lift barrels from the hold below, via the large cargo hatches amidships.  Water from the surging sea was pouring from the deck into those openings, but Bredan doubted that would make much difference after all the tired ship had already absorbed.  He could see the beach now, directly ahead of them, but the rocks too had grown, looming over them now as if eager for them to come within reach.

“Tie down that line!”

“Grab that barrel!  No, don’t let it swing free!”

“Look out!”

Bredan grabbed hold of a flailing rope and helped guide a barrel clear of the hold.  It jolted free of his grasp briefly and bounced against the mast.  Thankfully it was empty, but he quickly got hold of it and guided it onto the pitching deck.  He pushed it forward to the lee of the foredeck, where others just like it had already been lashed down.  He looked up to see a vast pillar of rock sliding past them—no, they were the ones that were moving, he reminded himself.  They passed so close that he could have tossed a pebble and hit it without straining, then they were clear and the danger began to fall behind them.

He was starting to think that they might escape after all when the ship came to a sudden halt with a jarring crash.

Everyone on the deck was flung forward.  Bredan bounced off the barrel he’d just unloaded and fell hard to the deck.  A man screamed as he tumbled into one of the open cargo hatches, but the sound was abruptly cut off by a sick sound of impact.

Dazed, Bredan struggled back to his feet.  The collision had knocked the wind out of him but he wasn’t seriously hurt.  But even a casual glance told him that the _Gull_ was far worse off.

He couldn’t see what the ship had hit, but the deck was canted at an angle that made standing awkward.  It had turned somewhat to the side as it had careened to a stop, and waves continued to crash over the side that faced out toward the ocean.  Fortunately, the list was to the right, so that was the raised side, offering at least a slight bulwark against the pounding surf.

But as the ship groaned again under him, he realized that whatever they had hit, they were anything but stable.  The he remembered that his friends had gone below.  “Quellan, Glori!”

“I’ll go,” Kosk said.  Bredan hadn’t even realized that the dwarf had joined them on the main deck, and he quickly made his way to the aft hatch, which stood open at an angle.

Bredan’s instinct was to rush after him, but the situation on the main deck was approaching chaos, and some members of the crew had already thrown themselves overboard in a desperate attempt to swim to shore.  He could see the beach, now just a few hundred feet away, with a dark mass of jungle rising up behind it.  After their experience on the island, however, he was not in a hurry to rush over there.

Sond came down the stairs from the aftcastle, shouting orders that quickly restored at least some semblance of order to the confusion.  The davits for the ship’s boat were almost useless with the deck canted as it was, but a group of men quickly went forward to begin lowering it down to the water.  Meanwhile, Bredan began helping Rodan and a few others as they began using boards and rope to fashion a crude raft out of some of the empty barrels they’d brought up from below.  It wouldn’t be much, but it might help them get some of the stores and supplies safely off the ship before the pounding waves and grinding rocks it was embedded on smashed it into kindling.

After a few difficulties, the crew finally got the small boat into the water.  A few of the sailors, carrying weapons, joined Kalasien and Elias in the bobbing craft.  Sond came over to where Bredan and Rodan were working.  “I think you should be in the first party to go ashore,” she said to the tiefling.

Rodan looked up and met Bredan’s eyes.  “Go ahead,” Bredan said.  “We’ll be right along.”

The tiefling nodded, and after taking his bow from a niche in the still-forming raft he made his way over to the boat.  Bredan looked around and saw Xeeta watching from over by the mast.  “You should go with them, in case they run into something on the shore,” he suggested.

“All right.  But be careful,” she said.

“You too.”

Once the boat had pulled away Bredan redoubled his efforts on the raft.  Sond briefly went below and returned with a leather satchel slung over her shoulder and a small pack on her back.  She came over and offered a few suggestions on the raft.  Some of the sailors were attaching ropes to barrels that still had something in them, in the hopes that they could be tossed overboard and dragged to shore.  Bredan realized that they might be stuck here with only the supplies they brought from the stricken ship to keep them alive.

The fact that time was not their ally was reinforced as a particularly large wave struck the ship and the entire hull shifted, the angle of the deck rising just a bit more.  Bredan looked to the aft hatch just as Quellan, Glori, and finally Kosk reappeared.  The three of them were weighed down with burdens, including several heavy sacks.  Bredan let out a sigh of relief and waved them over.

“That doesn’t look exactly seaworthy,” Glori said, giving the raft a dubious look.

“It only has to make it to there,” Bredan said, indicating the beach.

“The whole side of the ship is caved in, captain,” Quellan said.  “I’m afraid the _Gull_ has sailed its last journey.”

Sond merely nodded, and Bredan realized she’d already come to the same conclusion.  “Let’s just get as much as we can to that beach.”

The boat returned, with Xeeta and one of the sailors rowing.  “Anything nasty ashore?” Glori asked.

“Not on the beach, at least,” Xeeta reported.  “Rodan’s taking a look around.  Kalasien’s taken charge and has the sailors setting up a temporary shelter for whatever we can bring off the ship.”

“You three should go ashore,” Bredan said to Glori, Quellan, and Kosk.  “I’ll follow once I get this raft together.”

“We’ll go together,” Glori said.  “Plenty of stuff to do here.”

The next hour passed in a blur.  They finished the raft, and used one of the cargo hoists to drag it over to the water.  The continued settling of the ship proved an advantage now, as they only had to drop it about five feet to get it in the water.  Glori had been right, it didn’t look like much, but Bredan’s construction had been sturdy and it held together as they loaded it up with as much as they could before launching it toward the shore.  Torrin boarded it along with several sailors, and with long poles they pushed off from the ship and rode the ungainly craft toward the beach.

Sond had those still on board begin gathering whatever they could possibly salvage from the ship.  The cargo hold was already flooded, and the sea had poured in through the gash in the hull to swamp most of the crew deck as well, but they continued bringing up what they could from below until the rising water literally forced them out.  They crept over the dying ship cutting away ropes and lengths of timber.  Sond herself even ascended the mast and cut down the improvised canvas mainsail, rolling it into a more manageable mass before stacking it along with the other supplies along what was left of the port rail.

Bredan was pulling nails out of an irregular stack of boards when a voice pulled him from his reverie.  “Bredan!”  He looked up to see Glori standing in front of him.  Only a few other people, including Sond and Quellan, were still left on the deck of the ship.  The main deck was now half-underwater, and the waves that continued to hit the starboard side were sending a fresh deluge over the deck with each swell.  Bredan was soaked and sore, with fresh scrapes that he did not remember getting covering his hands and arms.  She gave him a knowing look, and said, “Time to go.”

Quellan was helping two sailors load the last of the supplies onto the raft.  Now they were having to lift the stuff _up_ onto the improvised vessel.  The boat, which had come and gone many times while they’d been working, was already nearing the beach.  Bredan and Glori joined the queue, helping them push a few more crates aboard before getting pulled up onto the bobbing craft.

Sond was the last to leave the _Golden Gull_.  She placed her hand on the battered main mast, which had held after all until the very end.  She lingered there a moment before joining the others on the raft.  The water was already deep enough along the railing that it rose above her head before she reached it, but she leapt into the water and swam over to the raft with a few easy strokes.  She refused Quellan’s offered hand and clambered up herself.  Her eyes lingered on the ship as they set out toward shore, but as they hit the cresting waves close to the beach she turned decisively away and helped guide the raft safely into the beach.

A half-dozen crewmen met them in the shallows and helped them to pull the raft securely onto the sand.  They began unloading the vessel immediately.  Bredan could see where most of the supplies that had already been offloaded had been secured in a temporary shelter nestled in a cleft in an exposed rock face along the northern edge of the beach.  It was hard to get a clear count, but it looked like there were only a few dozen members of the _Gull’s_ crew left.

His gaze shifted to the jungle.  It looked even less welcoming close-up than it had from the ship, a dense mass of green that appeared decisively uninviting.  But they would have to enter that hostile expanse, he knew.  Glori and Quellan came up to stand beside him, no doubt preoccupied with similar thoughts.

Sond leapt down from the raft and trudged up onto the sand.  Without looking back at the adventurers, she made her way toward the camp.

“Well,” Glori said when she was out of earshot.  “Welcome to Weltarin.”


----------



## carborundum

Woah! 
I love the way you've written the whole nautical story. So many details for the sailors and still plenty for the party to do. Real Master and Commander stuff! 

I wonder what will find them on the beach  
(I just remembered the landing on the Isle of Dread in Savage Tide haha)


----------



## Lazybones

Thanks for the kudos, carborundum! I will admit, I had to spend considerable time on Wikipedia while writing the ship-based sequences.

* * * 

Book 11: A NEW WORLD

Chapter 259

The temporary camp was looking less temporary by the minute, as the shipwrecked survivors from the _Golden Gull_ made themselves at home on their narrow slice of Weltarin.  The sailors stayed well clear of the jungle, approaching only to cut down trees that they were using to build a bulwark around the nook where they’d gathered the salvaged supplies.  They had found a few trees on the forest’s border that produced globular fruits that Quellan proclaimed safe, which they augmented with crabs they captured in the shallows along the edge of the beach.  Thus far they were keeping busy, knowing that their survival remained tentative, but there were frequent sour looks directed at their former passengers, and perhaps more troubling, some muttering about the captain who had led them to this outcome.

Sond noticed the covert looks but ignored them as she walked over to where Bredan, Glori, and Quellan were talking quietly about the supply situation.  The cleric was explaining how he could invoke the power of his patron to conjure food and water, but it would not be enough to sustain everyone there.  Food seemed to be plentiful enough, but fresh water was going to be a concern if they had to remain here for any length of time.

They turned as Sond walked directly up to Bredan.  The juxtaposition of the halfling woman and the human warrior might have been amusing if not for the iron-hard edge in the captain’s eyes.  “Why are we here?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Bredan said.

“This is where you wanted to be,” Sond said.  “The Black Coast.  I saw you staring at this spot on the map, back in Li Syval.  And here we are.  I think I deserve to know why.”

Kalasien, who had been sitting nearby, quickly got up and joined them.  “Captain…” he began, but she held up a hand.  “I don’t want to hear anything from you,” she said, then pointed a finger at Bredan.  “I want to hear it from him.”  Her voice was steady, but she kept the volume low, so their conversation would not carry.

Bredan met her eyes for a long moment then sighed.  “We’re looking for a place where a Syvalian captain landed, centuries ago.  We know it’s somewhere along the mainland coast, north of Fort Promise, but that’s all we know.  We were hoping to learn more at the colony, maybe secure a guide who knows Weltarin better.”

“And what’s so special about this place you’re seeking?  Are you just treasure-hunters, after all?”

Bredan looked at Kalasien, but the Arreshian agent seemed content to let him do the talking.  “It’s not a treasure, not really,” he said.  “But there is a ruin there that holds something important, something it’s vital we find.”

Sond looked at him dubiously.

“We had nothing do with the storm, of the things that attacked the ship,” Quellan said.  “We’re trapped here now, just like you, and we’ll only survive if we work together.”

“I know that,” the halfling spat back.  She shook her head.  “I know the story you’re talking about,” she said.  “Every Syvalian captain does.”  At their sudden looks of interest she made a gesture of negation with a slash of her hand.  “But nobody knows where this famous lost city is located.  There are as many tales as there are tellers, each one claiming to know exactly how to find the place.  For a while there were even expeditions that set out to retrace his steps.  They all found the same thing: a continent teeming with hostile tribes and weird monsters.  I could have told you all this before, if you’d been honest with me.”

“It would not have made any difference,” Bredan said.  “We still had to come.”  He didn’t say what he’d felt deep within his bones, since they’d arrived here: that this was where they were supposed to be.  He hadn’t even shared that with his friends.  If those vague instincts had come with something useful, like a map or a compass, then he might have revealed more, but at the moment all he could do was drift blindly on the vicissitudes of fate like everyone else.

“Captain Sond, we have to focus now on more immediate concerns,” Quellan said.  “We feel that it is important that we find out what’s in the vicinity, in particular a reliable source of fresh water and someplace more secure to establish a camp.”

“The sailors won’t be happy about entering the jungle,” Kalasien said.

“They’ll be less happy if something emerges from the jungle and starts eating them,” Glori said.

“I thought your tiefling scout was checking out the area,” Sond said.

“He is, but he’s too smart to go too far alone,” Bredan said.  “We were thinking we’d take a deeper probe tomorrow, maybe head down the coast a bit.  You and your men can wait here for us.  Whatever we find, we’ll return here and report back.  If there’s nothing, then we’ll try the other direction.”

“All of you?” she asked.  “It would be more reassuring if at least one of the healers remained behind.”

Glori and Quellan shared a look, but Bredan shook his head.  “We stay together,” he said.

Sond fixed her intense stare on him for a moment but finally nodded.  “I don’t like it, but it’s a wise course of action,” she said.  “If there was only a way we could…”

She trailed off as they all detected a commotion coming from the other side of the camp, along the boundary between the rocky promontory and the jungle.

They couldn’t see immediately what was happening, but a number of men had gathered around some of the fallen logs they had been clearing for their shelter, and there was a lot of shouting going on.  But as they hurried in that direction there was a flash of flames as Xeeta, who had been over by the main cache of supplies, hurled a series of _scorching rays_ into the forest.

“What’s going on?” Bredan asked as he ran up to her.

“I didn’t get a good look at them,” the sorcerer reported.  Flames had engulfed one of the smaller trees, but the forest was so damp that it seemed unlikely that they would spread enough to threaten their camp.  “I think one of the men was hit.”

The companions rushed over to the fallen logs.  The sailors had taken cover behind some of the scattered rocks and smaller trees, and several were pointing into the forest.  Only a few had crossbows, which they were quickly reloading.  One of the sailors was on the ground not far from the fallen logs, with some kind of spear stuck into his belly.  Quellan immediately ran over to him to offer aid.

“What happened?” Glori asked the others.

“They looked like cats, like bloody cats!” one of them said.  “Walkin’ upright, like men!”

“Cat-men,” Kosk said dubiously.

“It’s true,” another said.  “I swear it.”

“Well, we already had fish-men, so I suppose cat-men aren’t beyond the bounds of probability,” Glori commented.

“I think I hit one of them,” one of the archers said.  “They ran off real quick, once the lady started throwing fire.”

Bredan, his sword in his hands, had gone over to check the trees.  “They’re gone now,” he said.  “I don’t see any blood or bodies, but there’s plenty of ground cover here.  I’ll have Rodan take a look when he returns.”

“Assuming he didn’t run into them first,” Sond said.  By the look on Bredan’s face the thought had occurred to him, but he said nothing.

“Should we go after them?” one of the sailors asked.

“We’d only end up getting lost, or ambushed,” Glori said.

“Think they’ll be back?” another sailor asked.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Sond said.  “All the more reason to quickly build up our defenses here, gentlemen.”

The sailors all nodded, their earlier grousing forgotten in the face of this new threat.

Quellan helped the injured sailor to his feet.  The wound in his belly was gone now, healed as if it had never been, but he was still a bit tentative as he rejoined his comrades.  The cleric held out the spear.  It was fairly short, maybe four and a half feet long, with a head of sharpened stone.

“Primitive,” Glori said.

“No less deadly for it,” Kosk noted.

“All right,” Sond said.  “Make sure that fire goes out, the last thing we want is half the forest burning down right in front of us.  Everyone else, back to work.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 260

Scattered rays of sunlight drifted down through the gaps in the forest canopy high above.  It was almost noon, so those stray beams actually made it all the way down to where the companions were gathered.  They sparkled on the rippling waters of a small pool fed by a tiny brook that any of them could have stepped over without straining.  They had all refilled their water bottles, after Quellan had purified the water with a minor spell.  Running water was usually safer than stagnant, but the half-orc had recited a long list of tropical diseases and parasites that made them all grateful for his intervention.

There was only a bit of muted conversation as the companions ate a quick meal and rested.  They had gotten an early start that morning, setting out even before the sun had become visible over the rocky mass of the promontory that sheltered the narrow beach.  The dawning glow had revealed that the remains of the _Gull_ had sunk even lower in the water, the outline of the ship permanently shattered by the pounding surf.  Sond had been organizing parties to row out to the ship to see if they could salvage larger timbers and other useful materials from the wreck.

Kosk stepped up on a low rock next to the edge of the pool and looked up at the sky above.  It was the first time they’d seen the sky since they’d left the beach.  The jungle formed a dense web of life around them.  He wondered if they’d covered more than a handful of miles since they’d left the beach.  Heck, it was likely only Rodan’s skill and instincts that kept them from walking in circles.  Kosk had considered himself something of a woodsman in his past life, but his skills were not up to the challenges of this place.

“Nice to see the sun,” Kalasien said.

Kosk turned to look at the Arreshian agent.  With the dwarf standing on the rock they were almost eye-to-eye.  Kalasien had insisted on joining the rest of the original party on this first exploratory trek, though he’d ordered Elias to remain back at the camp as a salve to the fears of Sond’s crew.  Though Kosk doubted how much difference one warrior would make if one of the horrors the captain had warned them of emerged from the jungle.

“It’s too bad that this place is so far from the beach,” Kalasien noted, gesturing to encapsulate the whole area around the pool.  “And indefensible.”

“Too open to attack,” Kosk agreed.  “At least at the beach there are those rocks.”

“A tactically sound position,” Kalasien said.  “The tiefling still out scouting?”

“He said he was just going to check the next stretch of trail ahead.”

“That’s a generous word for it.”

Kosk snorted.

“How long have you known him?” Kalasien asked.

“Rodan?”

“Yes.”

Kosk looked along the shore of the pool where the others were resting.  Bredan and Xeeta were sitting on a fallen log, talking quietly.  Glori and Quellan were just a few feet away, the bard slumped against the mass of the cleric in exhaustion.  She had it better than the men, as both of them had to be sweating rivers under the bulk of their heavy armor.  But none of them had complained, which was to their credit as far as Kosk was concerned.

“Not especially long,” he said to Kalasien.  He’d hardly shared ten words with the Arreshian spy since they’d set out from Severon, and he wondered why the man had decided to open up to him now.  “From what Xeeta told us, they don’t exactly stick around to raise their offspring.”

The other nodded.  “I should hope not.  I’ve traveled a great deal, but I admit I haven’t encountered many tieflings.  Strange, to have a demon or other fiend as a parent.”

“I suppose,” Kosk said.

“I do find it odd, though.”

“What?”

“How he just happened to be plucked out of the air, transported halfway around the world, right to where we are.  And now he’s a part of this mission.”

“He didn’t choose to be brought here,” Kosk said.  “Unless you’re suggesting otherwise?”

“I don’t know enough to be sure either way.  I just wanted to gauge your thoughts on the man.  You strike me as a good judge of a man’s character, and you’ve known him longer than I.”

Kosk snorted again.  “I say something funny?” Kalasien asked.

“Never mind.  If you have evidence for why Rodan shouldn’t be trusted, then speak it clearly.  Otherwise, I’d not bring this up again, at least not where Bredan or Xeeta can hear you.  Both of them speak for Rodan, and that’s enough for me.”

Kalasien held his hands out in a placating gesture.  “So noted.  Ah, here he comes now.”

Kosk turned to see Rodan approaching out of the jungle.  From the look on his face and the speed with which he was moving, he’d found something on his scout.

The two men came around the edge of the pool to meet him, but Bredan got to him first.  “What is it?” the warrior asked.

“There’s a clearing up ahead, it’s not far,” Rodan reported.  “There’s something moving around there, it could be more of those cat-people.”

“How many?” Glori asked, grimacing as she thrust herself to her feet.

Rodan shook his head.  “I couldn’t get close enough to tell.  Figured I’d better come get you first, in case it’s an ambush.”

“Wouldn’t be the first of those,” Quellan said.  “Shall we, then?”

They quickly gathered up their gear and set out again, following Rodan back into the forest.  Within five steps of leaving the clearing the growth swallowed them up again.  Kosk thought back to Kalasien’s joke about the trail, or lack thereof.  He had the hardest time due to his height; in most places he could barely see beyond the next person in line, let alone further along their route of march.  He had dismissed the spy’s not-so-subtle innuendos, but now his mind could not help but whisper its own doubts.  Why had Rodan insisted on joining the expedition, instead of returning to Voralis?  Was his role in the cult only that of a victim, as he had insisted?

The dwarf finally shook his head and focused on bullying his way through the tangles of undergrowth.  Letting his mind wander in this place was a good way to get killed.

Fortunately, the clearing that Rodan had spoken of was only a few hundred yards from the pool.  They could see it as the jungle began to thin ahead, once again letting the full light of the day reach them.  The clearing wasn’t that big, maybe fifty or sixty feet across, but it created an actual gap in the forest canopy, and the sunlight that reached its center was bright and whole rather than the scattered rays that had penetrated to the space around the pool.

The clearing was dominated by a single large tree on its far side.  The tree was unusual; it looked as though it had started to grow upwards and then changed its mind.  Parts of its branches had dropped down to burrow back into the soil around the central trunk.  They formed a nest of columns that gave the whole the look of an enclosed hut or other structure.

“Aerial root system, how unusual,” Quellan noted.

“I think it would be better to focus on the potential ambush,” Xeeta said dryly.

“By the central trunk, on the right side,” Rodan said quietly.  The tiefling had his bow out, an arrow fitted to the string.

They followed his direction and saw what had first looked like a clump of vines or some other outgrowth of the strange tree.  But then it moved, and they could see that it was a creature of some sort.  It might have been one of the cat-men, but it was difficult to see clearly, both because of the obstruction of the dangling roots and the fact that it was wrapped up in some sort of snare that suspended it a good four or five feet above the ground.

“It’s injured,” Quellan said.  He started forward, but Glori grabbed his arm.  “It could be a trap,” she said.  “Rodan?”

The tiefling didn’t turn around; his attention had been focused on the tree and the surrounding forest since they’d arrived.  “I’m not sure,” he said.  “I suggest that the rest of you remain in cover here while I circle around.”

The trapped figure shifted again and made a soft, plaintive sound.  “I can’t just stand here while an intelligent creature needs help,” Quellan said.

“All right, together then, but slowly and carefully,” Rodan said.

They rose up out of the brush and made their way carefully into the clearing.  As the sunlight hit their faces they were acutely aware of how exposed they were.  Quellan kept moving forward, however, forcing Rodan to advance a bit faster than he otherwise might have liked.  The tiefling’s crimson skin seemed to glow in the bright light.

As they got closer, they could see that the creature hanging from the tree was in fact one of the cat-men.  It was wrapped in some sort of rope harness that was wrapped around its legs and lower torso.  It was watching them, but it was also clearly hurt; dried blood stained the ropes and the shredded remains of a fibrous wrap that it had worn as clothing.  It didn’t appear to have any weapons on its person but there was a small spear lying on the ground close to where it hung.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Quellan said as he approached.  The creature tried to move, but its struggles only caused it to sway slightly.  Fresh drops of blood fell to the forest floor as its wounds were reopened.  They could see now that the snare that had caught it included barbed hooks that had gotten embedded in its legs, inflicting a number of nasty injuries.

“That looks painful,” Xeeta said.

“Yeah, but who set the trap?” Kalasien said.

After a final look at Rodan, Quellan hurried forward.  The cat-man tried to recoil but could not escape.  “I will get you out of there,” the cleric said.  “I can heal you, but first we have to get you down and get those hooks out of you.  Don’t worry, everything will be all right.”

It was obvious that the creature did not understand him, but he kept speaking, trying to soothe it with his words.  Either the cat-man realized it could not escape or the loss of blood was weakening it, for its struggles eased.

“Bredan, your dagger,” Quellan said.

Bredan started forward, but before he reached the creature they all heard something; a soft swish of something moving through the brush at the clearing’s edge.  The companions instantly tensed and lifted their weapons.

A sound emerged from the bushes, a soft twittering trill.  It was echoed a moment later by another from the opposite side of the clearing, on the far side of the tree.  Then a third, back in the direction from which they’d come.

“We’re surrounded,” Kosk said.

“Defensive ring,” Bredan said, summoning his sword.  Quellan remained by the imprisoned creature, so they gathered around him, forming a circle.  Xeeta summoned _mage armor_, while Glori strummed an inspirational melody on her lyre, gathering its magic.

“There!” Kalasien said, pointing with his rapier.  They all turned to see a blunt, reptilian head rise up out of the brush.  It belonged to a creature that looked to be about as tall as a man, as it rose up on its hind legs.  Its jaws cracked open to reveal the sharp teeth of a carnivore, and a certain animal cunning shone in the eyes that regarded the seven defenders.

“What is that thing?” Glori whispered.

“Some sort of dinosaur, I think,” Quellan said.  “I’ve never heard of anything like that on Voralis.”

“There’s more of them around us,” Bredan said.

“Pack hunters, probably,” Quellan said.

“Is there any reason why we’re not killing that bastard right now?” Kosk asked.

“Maybe we can scare them off,” Bredan said.  “Xeeta?”

The sorceress lifted her rod, but before she could summon her magic the thing let out a sharp bark, and half a dozen of the creatures burst out of the bushes and charged into the clearing.


----------



## carborundum

Two new races, excellent!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 261

The dinosaurs moved incredibly fast, closing the distance between them and their prey in just a few bounds, but the adventurers were ready.

Glori summoned the power of her magical lyre, evoking a _wall of fire_ that erupted in a blazing arc across the center of the clearing.  Two of the creatures shrieked and recoiled from the unexpected flames, while a third, too close to evade, leapt up and passed through it.  It landed on the far side of the barrier, scorched but still alive.

On the other side, the creatures were too close for Xeeta to do the same without engulfing the tree and risking themselves in the process.  Instead she fired off a series of _scorching rays_ that pummeled one of the creatures until it fell to the ground.  A second one leapt at her, but was intercepted by Bredan, who deflected it with a _shield_ and then chopped it heavily with his sword.  The creature stumbled to the ground, a deep gash in its left side pouring blood onto the ground, but it managed to recover enough to snap at the warrior with its jaws.

Another of the monsters sprang at Kalasien.  He managed to stab it with his rapier, but that wasn’t enough to stop it from knocking him hard to the ground.  It pinned him with a taloned claw and then snapped at his neck, but the Arreshian agent somehow was able to catch hold of its head and barely keep the powerful jaws at bay.  It seemed impossible that he would be able to hold it off him for long, but Kosk intervened before the issue could be decided.  He battered it in the side with his staff, then spun into a kick that cracked it in the skull.  It stumbled to the side, freeing the trapped agent.  Kalasien scrambled back as the dinosaur turned its rage upon the dwarf.

The first creature joined the fray last, darting between the fringe of dangling roots to join the furious melee.  It seemed to be targeting Quellan, who stood in front of the helpless cat-man with his shield raised.  But before it could get close enough to leap Rodan shot it with an arrow that burrowed deep into its chest.  The creature shrieked and turned instead toward the tiefling.  It covered the ten steps that separated them in a single bound, driving him to the ground.  Its jaws snapped down at his unprotected face.  Rodan got an arm up, but it seized hold of the limb in a powerful, crushing bite.

“Rodan!” Xeeta cried, but she could not immediately move to intervene as the creature that Glori has scorched rushed her.

But as the dinosaur’s savaged the tiefling’s arm, dripping streams of blood onto his face, a fire blazed in his eyes.  The power that was part of his heritage exploded in response, engulfing the creature’s head in a wreath of blazing fire.  The dinosaur screamed and jerked back, releasing its hold as it struggled to escape the _hellish rebuke_.  It never even saw Quellan as the cleric came up from behind it and smashed its skull with a single blow from his mace.

The dinosaurs kept pressing their attack, but even their sheer ferocity could not overcome the magical and mundane power of the defenders.  The two that Glori had blocked with the _wall of fire_ persisted, circling around the barrier, but the bard was waiting for them.  The first one spotted her and leapt at her, trying to bear her down, but it passed harmlessly through the illusion she’d created and landed in an awkward tangle in a heap of roots that had looked like clear ground just a moment before.  The second one hesitated, suddenly suspicious as a fresh copy of the half-elf woman stepped into view and waved at it.

Xeeta gave ground as the scorched dinosaur harried her.  It had been burned twice, once by Glori’s _wall of fire_ and then again by a spray of _burning hands_ she’d unleashed from her rod.  The thing’s head was a blackened mess, but it kept coming, trying to get a hold on her so it could pull her to the ground and tear her to pieces.  Thus far her _mage armor_ had protected her, but she knew that it wouldn’t save her if it got a good grip.

Her foot hit an exposed root and she stumbled.  The creature sensed it and lunged forward, but even as its jaws snapped open a brilliant arc of steel came chopping down into its neck.  The dinosaur crumpled, its neck nearly severed by the powerful blow.

“Thanks,” Xeeta said to Bredan.  “Looks like Glori needs some help.”

“I suspect she’s got it under control,” he said, but he lifted his sword and rushed over to where the bard had finally been chased down by her two foes.  The dinosaurs had fought their way past her illusions and had her trapped against a particularly dense tangle of roots.  They came at her from both sides at once, giving her no chance to slip away.

But Glori was not interested in escape; she merely waited until they were both within reach before she unleashed a _thunderwave_.  Both dinosaurs were knocked backwards.  One fell to the ground and did not get up, while the other managed to stagger into a swing of Bredan’s sword that put a decisive end to it.

That swing also marked an end to the battle.  Kosk had finished his foe, and Quellan was already healing Rodan’s wounded arm.

“Is everyone all right?” Glori asked.

“Kalasien was knocked down,” Kosk said.  Glori started toward him, but the agent shook his head.  “Just a few minor scratches,” he said.  “Save your healing, we may need it later.”

Bredan went over to Rodan.  “You okay?”

The tiefling held up his arm and twisted it through a few exploratory motions.  His bracer and the sleeve underneath were shredded and soaked with blood, but the damaged flesh had been restored by Quellan’s healing magic.  “Not an experience I’d care to repeat, but I’m fine,” he said.

“Something new for your books,” Kosk said, prodding one of the bloody corpses with his staff.

“Later,” Quellan said, heading back to check on the imprisoned cat-man.

The creature had lost consciousness during the fight.  With Bredan’s help, Quellan cut it free and gently lowered it to the ground.  Concerned that it might not survive the removal of the barbs from the trap, he laid his hands upon its chest and summoned his magic.  The blue glow of a _cure wounds_ spell seeped into its body, and it stirred.  Its eyes flashed with renewed pain as it looked up at him.

“Hold still,” Quellan said.  “We still need to get those hooks out of you.  Bredan, be ready to hold it if it starts to struggle.”

But the cat-man didn’t move; either it had realized they were not enemies, or it was too weak to resist.  It flinched as Quellan drew out the hooks—they appeared to be made of some kind of horn or bone rather than metal—and tossed them aside.  Once they were all out, he cast another _cure wounds_ spell and the vicious gashes slowly sealed themselves.  Now restored, the cat-man looked up at them warily.

“Now what?” Xeeta asked.

“If we keep it with us overnight, then you can use your spell to communicate with it,” Glori suggested.

“I don’t think that holding it prisoner is the best way to begin a relationship,” Quellan said.  “If we set it free, it might communicate to its peers that we are not their enemies.”

“Or it could brief them about where we are and our abilities,” Kosk pointed out.

“Bredan?” Quellan asked.

The warrior blinked as if surprised to be asked, but after a moment he nodded.  “Let it go,” he said.

Quellan stepped back, gesturing for the others to make some space.  As soon as an opening appeared, the creature spun onto its feet and darted off.  It vanished into the jungle undergrowth as rapidly as the dinosaurs had appeared.

“Well, that’s that,” Xeeta said.

“Rodan, can you tell anything about whoever set that trap?”

The tiefling examined the remains of the snare.  “The materials may be primitive, but this is pretty sophisticated,” he said.  “I got the impression that these cat-men are pretty good hunters.  Even after the clash back at the camp I couldn’t find many tracks.  Whoever set this trap knew what they were doing.”

For a moment they all stood there in silence, digesting the scout’s words.  Finally, Glori said, “So should we turn back now?”

Once again, they all looked to Bredan.  This time the warrior looked more prepared to accept that weight of responsibility.  “A little further,” he said.

“A feeling?” Glori asked.

“Maybe.  I don’t know.”

“Well, we can go another hour or two and still make it back to the beach by nightfall,” Rodan said.  “Not sure if anyone’s eager to spend the night out here.”

“I certainly don’t,” Glori said.  “I had enough creepy forest for a lifetime in the Reserve.”  She looked over at Kosk, who nodded in agreement.

Rodan led them out of the clearing and back into the jungle.  He was especially alert now, looking for hints of additional traps.  They found no trace of the cat-man or whoever had set the snare under the root-tree.  They did find some of the tracks left by the dinosaurs, which was at least reassuring in that not every predator of the jungle was able to creep through its fastness utterly undetected.  Rodan reported that the creatures had come from the west, deeper into the interior.

They continued south, for now intent on staying at least relatively close to the coastline.  They occasionally caught glimpses of the sea when the land rose up or the ground grew rocky enough to thin out some of the jungle growth.  The shore here seemed even more rugged than where the _Gull_ had wrecked, if such a thing was possible.

Bredan was about to suggest that they turn back when they came to a low rise, punctuated by a crest of exposed rock.  Rodan reached that crest and signaled to the others that he’d spotted something interesting.

They joined him to see that the slope on the far side of the rise descended to a sheltered cove or river mouth; they could not determine which from their vantage.  The expanse of placid blue water extended for maybe four or five hundred feet before the jungle resumed on the far side.  But more notable what was stood on the near shore, on a rocky shelf that extended almost to the water’s edge.

“Is that a building?” Glori asked.

“It might have been at one point,” Kosk said.  “But it hasn’t been for a long time.”

The structure was in ruins, now little more than a foundation and the outline of some walls.  The adventurers made their way toward it, still alert for an ambush or other hazard.  But nothing stirred from within at their approach.

As they reached the place, they saw indications that there had been other, smaller buildings around the central ruin at one time.  The decay was even more pronounced close up, and they could see where the jungle had clawed back its due, with greenery sprouting from even the smallest cracks in the stone.

They went inside, through an opening that looked like it had once held a wooden gate.  The tallest remaining bits of wall did not even reach Kosk’s height, though there were a few that were slightly more intact on the other side, the side that faced the water.

“This might have been a fort of some sort,” Bredan suggested.  “Look how thick the walls were.”

“Hard to blame them, after what we’ve seen of this continent’s residents,” Xeeta said.

“But who built it?” Glori asked.

None of them had an answer, so they continued to explore, spreading out a bit to conduct their search.  There was nothing left other than the crumbling stone of the walls and floor, no artifacts or other clues as to what purpose the rooms they strode through might have served.  They found a gaping pit choked with growth that Rodan said had probably been a cistern, and an exposed trough that might have once been part of a sewage system.

“Quellan, come take a look at this,” Kalasien called from one of the side-chambers along the western edge of the ruin.

The others followed the cleric over.  At first glance it looked like the general decay had progressed further here, but the bits of stone debris scattered across the floor suggested that there might have been a collapse or breach here at some point.  In any case, the feature that had drawn Kalasien’s attention was immediately evident.

“Oh, boy,” Glori said.

A cracked, uneven slab of stone sat in the center of the space, which from the remains of the interior walls might have once been a room about ten paces across.  The initial purpose of the stone was as mysterious as the rest of the place, but in its current incarnation it functioned as a grim altar.

A collection of skulls had been placed upon the top of the stone, with an assortment of other bones arranged along its sides.  The skulls varied in size from those of small birds to creatures that were twice the size of a man.  Some appeared to be humanoid, but even a cursory look suggested that none had been even close to human.

“Someone’s been collecting,” Kosk said.

“Yeah, but who?” Glori asked, poking at one of the skulls with her sword.

Bredan had circled around to the far side of the slab.  “Over here,” he said.

They all joined him and saw a small, square plaque of green-crusted metal embedded in the stone.  Someone had carved markings in the slab around it, but they just looked like shallow gouges, not written language.  But even in its current state they could see that there was writing embossed upon the plate.

“Bronze,” Quellan said.  “From the looks of it, I’d say it’s hundreds of years old.”

“What language is that?” Glori asked.

The encrusted verdigris made it difficult to read the lettering, but after a few moments of close study Xeeta said, “Syvalian.  It’s Syvalian.”

Quellan looked at Bredan.  “Do you think?”

Bredan had felt the same surge of excitement, but he forced himself to keep his voice measured.  “It’s not necessarily him,” he said.

“Who?” Kalasien asked.  Bredan looked at him strangely, but before he could say anything a word from Rodan drew his attention back around.  “Guys.”

The others turned around, the concern in the tiefling’s voice causing them to reach for their weapons.  But there were no enemies stirring in the ruin or in the jungle behind it.  Instead, they followed the scout’s raised eyes toward the northeast, back in the direction they had come.

The plume of black smoke rising up over the jungle was instantly visible.

“Oh, no,” Glori said.  “The camp.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 262

The sun had already dipped behind the crest of the jungle canopy when the companions returned to the beach, so it was in deepening twilight that they explored a scene of destruction.

The fires that they had spotted from the Syvalian ruin had burned out, leaving just smoldering wreckage where the camp had been.  Bredan walked through the debris, his sword resting on his shoulder, kicking over bits of charred wood that were half-buried in the sand.

“There was an explosion here,” he said.  “And look at these gaps… someone took some of the supplies with them.”

“Magic-users?” Quellan asked.  Bredan just shook his head; he had no way of knowing.

“There’s some blood, but not enough if the crew were all killed,” Glori said.  “No bodies.  It’s like Sond and her crew just… disappeared.”

“We know where they went,” Kalasien said.  They all looked over to where Rodan was scouting along the forest’s edge.  The tracks were obvious enough that all of them could see them, a channel cut through the sand and soft earth that connected the beachside camp with the forest beyond.  Xeeta was with the scout, her rod at the ready as she covered him.

Kosk bent down and pulled up an object that had been buried in the sand.  It was one of the crew’s crossbows.  It had been roughly shattered.  “It doesn’t look like they put up much of a fight,” he said.

They all gathered again as Rodan returned to present his report.  “Who did this?” Glori asked.  “The cat-men?”

“I don’t think so,” the tiefling said.  “They were definitely humanoid, and big, larger even than Quellan.  Their footprints were odd, three toes, taloned.  A little bit like lizardfolk tracks, but not like the ones we have back in Voralis.”

“First cat-men, now lizard-men,” Kosk said.  “Great.”

“How many?” Bredan asked.

“I’d say no more than two dozen,” Rodan said.

“So they didn’t outnumber the crew,” Kosk said.

“Most of them weren’t warriors,” Quellan pointed out.

“After the skirmish with the cat-men, they should have been expecting trouble,” the dwarf persisted.

“From the tracks, it looks like they approached along a broad arc of jungle, surrounding the camp before they moved in,” Rodan said.

“Is there any way of knowing how many of the crew survived?” Glori asked.

“I can’t be sure from the tracks, but based on the bloodstains I’d say they gave up fairly quickly,” Rodan said.

“Elias wouldn’t have yielded without a fight,” Glori said, glancing over at Kalasien.  The agent was staring into the jungle as if he could penetrate its secrets through the sheer intensity of his gaze.  “And Sond’s magic is fairly powerful.”

“They may have been taken by surprise,” Quellan said.  “Or maybe the attackers were so overpowering that they had no choice but to surrender.”

“We won’t learn the answer standing here,” Kosk said.

“We do know that whoever took them, they’re dangerous,” Xeeta said.

“We can’t just leave Elias and the ship’s crew,” Glori said.

“I share your sentiment,” Xeeta said.  “But they might be more than we can handle.  For all we know there’s a whole city of these things somewhere in that jungle.”

“We don’t have a lot of options,” Glori pointed out.  “There’s not much left of our supplies, and it’s hardly safe just to stay here.”

“Which way did they go?” Bredan asked.

“Northwest,” Rodan said.  “They may have gone anywhere once they were in the jungle, of course, but they went northwest from here.”

“So we could possibly avoid them if we return to the south,” Kalasien said.  “We have the bronze plaque, but there may be other clues about the Syvalian expedition and where they went.”

“Elias might be alive, Sond might be alive,” Quellan said.  “Not to mention the rest of the crew.  We owe it to them to help, if we can.”

Kalasien looked like he was going to say something, but Rodan cut him off with a raised hand.  “Do you hear that?” he said.

They all were silent, and after a moment they did hear something over the sound of the surf rolling up into the cove.  It was faint but distinct, a sound of footfalls scraping over bare rock.

They turned together toward the exposed rock of the promontory, weapons and spells at the ready.  But the figure that came into view was too bedraggled and pathetic to be a threat.  It was Kavek, the sailor from Sond’s crew who had narrowly escaped being killed by the giant crocodiles on the island where they’d put in for repairs.

On seeing their raised weapons, the sailor threw up his hands.  “Don’t shoot!  It’s just me!”

“That guy has too much luck for his own good,” Kosk said as the sailor scrambled down over the last stretch of rocks and made his way over to where the companions were gathered.

“Thank the gods!” Kavek said.  “I was starting to think that maybe they’d gotten you too.”

“Who did this?” Glori said.

“Dragon-men.  Really and true!  They were huge, seven feet tall at least, very strong.  They were everywhere… dozens of them.”

“How did you manage to escape?” Kalasien asked.

Kavek blinked at the Arreshian agent.  “I ran away.  I was… I wasn’t at the camp when they attacked.  I was over in the rocks, looking for food.  I heard this huge ruckus… I came over the rocks and saw those things everywhere!  The others were already throwing down their arms, there was nothing I could do.”

“Did you see Sond, or Elias?” Glori asked.

Kavek shook his head.  “I didn’t get a chance to get a good look.  One of them saw me, and I had to run for my life.  I hid in one of the deeper pools, they didn’t think to look there.  When I came out, they were gone.  They took most of the supplies and burned the rest.”

“Did you see where they went?” Xeeta asked.

“No.  Back into the jungle.  I saw tracks, but I wasn’t going to go in there alone!”

“So they didn’t leave anyone behind to keep an eye out,” Kosk said.

“Not that I saw,” Kavek said.

“If they did, they could be fifty feet away and we’d never see them,” Rodan said.  “The jungle’s just too thick, and there are too many places to hide.”

The others turned their gazes toward that dark green expanse, which had taken on a suddenly malevolent air.

“At least now we know what we’re up against,” Kalasien said.  “The question still remains, what do we do next?”

“Either way, we’re not going to get there tonight,” Kosk said.  “Even I’m not crazy enough to try to follow those things at night, and we all need rest, especially the spell-casters.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to camp here?” Xeeta asked.

“I don’t think anyplace is safe here,” Rodan said.  “But there are some places up in the rocks where we can shelter for the night.  If Kavek could hide there, so can we.  If anyone, lizards or cats or something even worse shows up, we can make it hard for them at least.”

“And in the morning?” Kosk asked.

Bredan lowered his hand, letting his sword blink back to wherever it went when he wasn’t using it.  He’d spoken with Quellan about it, but still didn’t have a very clear idea of how it or his other abilities functioned.  But the power was clear in his voice as he said, “We don’t leave our people behind.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 263

Galendra’s head was throbbing.  She could still taste the iron tang of blood, though it was somewhat overpowered by the rank flavor of the gag pulled painfully tight across her mouth.  Her arms were tied behind her back, and her shoulders felt as though someone had jabbed hot needles into them.  But even her lengthy litany of hurts paled against the uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to the rest of her crew.

The enemy had come upon them by surprise.  They moved stealthily despite their size, their clawed feet making barely a whisper as they had materialized out of the jungle and atop the rocks that formed a backdrop to their camp.  By the time someone had shouted several of her people were already down, tangled in nets or knocked senseless by blows from knobby clubs as tall as she was.

The creatures had ignored her at first, perhaps not considering her a threat due to her size, or maybe even thinking her a child.  The things were fearsome, their muscled bodies covered in dull scales tinted in shades of black and green.  Their faces were monstrous and reptilian, with feral expressions that she could tell showed pleasure in their task as they subdued her crew.

She saw three of them surround Elias, who had his sword out but was clearly outmatched.  Without thinking she’d summoned her power, the magic that had been a part of her ever since she’d first began to experience the transition to adulthood.  Careful not to catch the struggling warrior in the blast, she unleashed a _lightning bolt_.

The spell had been effective—too effective, she thought wryly.  She’d hit several of the creatures, but the bolt had continued into their camp, hitting one of the stacks of crates piled there.  Her face still burned at the thought of it; it was lucky that she hadn’t killed one or more of her men with her foolishness.  In the end it hadn’t even accomplished much; none of the creatures she’d hit had fallen, and within moments something hard had hit her from behind, knocking her unconscious.  _You didn’t even try to evade,_ she berated herself.  _You acted like a raw deckhand._

She’d come to briefly on the trail.  Her first thought had been that she was back on the _Golden Gull_; it had felt like she was floating.  But then memory came flooding back in on a wave of pain, and she remembered what had happened.  Someone was carrying her, and it wasn’t one of her people.

She’d tried to lift her head, to look around, to catch sight of any of her crew or any hint of their surroundings.  But apparently even those feeble movements had been enough to alert her captor.  She was shaken, roughly, and in her diminished state that had been enough for consciousness to flee once more.

When she finally woke up again, she’d been here.

It still wasn’t quite clear where “here” was, but she presumed it was in the camp of the reptile-men.  She was inside a cage of wooden bars within some sort of simple hut or similar structure.  There were cracks in the walls but they let in only the faintest light, suggesting that maybe night had fallen.  A thick oily scent tinged with just a hint of rot hung over everything.  She found that she was ravenously hungry despite that, and her throat felt as if it had been packed with fluffy balls of cotton.

Gingerly, she tried to move, but even the slightest shift caused waves of nausea and pain to surge through her.  She gave up and focused instead on breathing slowly through her nose.

A few minutes passed.  Galendra sank into a sort of fugue state, but stirred from it when she heard the distinctive sounds of someone—or someones—approaching.  She hadn’t spotted a door in her brief examination of the hut, but a flap of heavy fabric swung aside to allow two figures to enter.

Even in the bad light she had no difficulty identifying them as members of the same race that had attacked their camp.  Galendra remained still as they came over to the cage.  One fiddled with the restraints that held it closed—it looked like just a few strips of leather, she noted—and then lifted her out.

She forced herself to remain quiet and calm as they carried her out, feigning unconsciousness while covertly scanning their surroundings.  They were somewhere in the jungle, but the area had been cleared enough to make room for dozens of assorted structures.  A handful of torches and crude oil lamps pushed back the surrounding night enough for her to make out a few details.  Her heart sank as she spotted dozens of the reptile-men, almost all of them armed with clubs or spears.  What she didn’t see was any sign of her crew, or where the creatures might be holding them.

Her captors carried her toward a particularly large wooden structure that appeared to be their destination.  It had a peaked roof, and mounted across the front was an alarming sculpture made of wicker and bone.  Galendra almost betrayed herself as she looked up at the thing.  It was a dragon, its broad “wings” stretching almost from one edge of the roof to the other, its head a bleached skull that hung from the highest point.  She thought that she could have walked into its open jaws without ducking.

The dragon-hut was perched atop stilts that lifted it about five feet above the forest floor.  Her captors carried her up a short flight of steps to another door made out of woven fronds.  The one holding her growled something.  After a moment an answering growl came from within, and the other creature pushed the door open.

The interior of the hut appeared to be a single large room, although curtains hanging from the rafters partitioned parts of the back into side-chambers.  Galendra could only make out vague details, as a metal brazier in the center of the room holding glowing coals was the only light.  But it was enough for her to see the creature that ruled here.

The dragonborn was seated in a throne that rose more than halfway to the peaked roof above.  Even seated it was imposing; Galendra doubted that she would have come to its knee.  Its coloration was somewhat different than that of the guards, its scales a dull red that gleamed like gemstones in the ruddy light of the brazier.  A massive stone war-axe rested against the side of the throne, within its easy reach.

The creature’s appearance was so impressive that Galendra failed to notice the giant lizard lying next to the throne until it lurched up and shot its forked tongue out, tasting the air.  She started in surprise, ending her ruse.  Not that it mattered at this point, she thought.

The reptilian chief gestured, and a figure maybe half its size shuffled forward out of the shadows.  This one was one of the green creatures, but despite its alien features she could instantly tell that it was old, perhaps ancient.  It was draped in an odd robe fashioned of vertical strips of fabric, with copper bangles around its wrists and neck that clinked together softly as it moved.  Its hide was spotted and when it opened its mouth she could see that most of its teeth were missing, but it fixed her with an intense look that swallowed up her attention.  It spoke, but she could not understand what it was saying.  She felt something stirring in her mind and tried to turn away, to break the connection, but with the guard still holding her she could not even move her head.

Then it spoke again, but this time she could understand its words.  It felt almost like it was whispering in her mind, the words she heard not matching the movements of its lips.

_A magic spell_, she realized.

“Do you understand me, creature?” it asked.

Galendra tried to say something, only to remember the gag.  She nodded.

The dragonman priest came a step closer.  “I will now remove your gag.  If you speak a word of magic, one of your people will be brought her and flayed before your eyes.  Do you grasp the meaning of this?  Its skin will be removed—slowly—while you watch.”

Galendra felt the gorge threaten to rise in her throat, but she met the loathsome creature’s eyes and nodded.

The priest removed her gag.  Galendra gasped in relief, accepting the pain the movement cost her.  “Where are my crew?” she asked.

The chief barked something.  The priest said, “They are alive, for now.  You are their leader?”

“I am their captain.”

“It is common among your kind for the smallest and weakest among you to lead?”

“Ask the ones I blasted if they found me weak,” she said.

The priest spoke to the chief, obviously relaying her words in its language.  The look the chief gave her showed its doubts, but it said something else and the priest asked, “Why have you come here?”

“My ship was caught in a storm and blown off course,” she said.  “We suffered damage and were wrecked on the shore where you found us.”

After another exchange with the chief the priest asked, “You say that your coming here… it is an accident?”

“Go look at the wreck of my ship if you don’t believe me.”

Another exchange followed, this one slightly longer.  “We know of your people to the south,” the priest said.  “And your visits to these lands in the past.  We know that your people covet these lands.”

“That was centuries ago,” Galendra said.  “As I said, we did not mean to come here.”

“You ally with the tabaxi?”

“I do not know what that is.”

The chief spoke before the priest could translate, suggesting either that he knew more than he let on, or he could read her answers in her manner.  Either way, it told her not to underestimate him.  “The tabaxi were spotted near your camp, before our arrival.”

“The cat-men?  They attacked us too,” she said.  “We drove them off.”

“Tell me about the others.  The ones who went into the jungle.”

“They went into the jungle to scout.  To look for fresh water, and food.”

“And to seek the old fort of your people, the ones who came before.”

Galendra shook her head.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The priest leaned in closer, close enough that she could see the smoky film that clouded its eyes.  “Your words are like snakes creeping in the mud.”

“I’ve told you the truth.  If your magic can translate my language, then surely it can tell you that as well.”

The priest did not bother passing that on to the chief.  Instead he reached up and pressed a stubby claw against her forehead.  “Know this, little creature,” it said.  “You have trespassed here.  Your kind are not welcome in these lands.  You and yours belong to us, now.  When the Great One summons you again, you will answer our questions.”

“I want to see my men,” Galendra said.

“What you want is of no concern,” the priest said.  “Understand me now.  The Great One’s favor will determine whether you and your people serve him as slaves… or are served _to_ him at the upcoming feast.”

Galendra’s face twisted with revulsion, and the aged creature let out a hissing laugh.  He made a gesture, and the guards replaced her gag before she could say anything else.  Her struggles were useless as they carried her back out into the night.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 264

Morning brought with it a sharp wind that blew in off the ocean, swirling through the jungle and causing the dense greenery to sway as it passed through.  Gray clouds streamed ashore to the south, though it looked as though they would not come close enough to threaten the expedition as it set out in pursuit of the creatures that had captured the survivors of the _Gull’s_ crew.

The companions made their way single-file through the jungle, though they remained close enough to offer reassurance against its unseen dangers.  Rodan took the lead, staying far enough ahead that he might detect a threat before the loud trudging of Quellan and Bredan reached it.  It seemed a foolish hope; to the tiefling’s ears, the sounds made by the others sounded only incrementally quieter than a herd of elephants.  Glori and Xeeta remained near the center of the line, ready to unleash their spells against an adversary that threatened the group.  Kavek brought up the rear, the sailor tightly clutching a dagger loaned by Glori.

They had no difficulty following the trail.  The dragon-men might know their way through the forest—the longer he followed, the more Rodan respected their woods-lore—but the prisoners they had brought clearly had no such skills.  They kept their eyes open for things that they might have dropped, or other signs left behind to help guide pursuers.  They didn’t find anything like that, but they found plenty of bloodstains, as well as places where heavy burdens had been dropped or shifted.

“It looks like they had a rough time of it,” Glori said as they examined one such spot where the surrounding jungle had been matted down.  She pointed to a broad leaf that was spotted with tiny points of red.

“Let’s just hope that’s from the bodies they were carrying,” Quellan said.

“It does not bode well that they made them bring their dead with them,” Kalasien said.

None of them wanted to ponder the significance of that thought, but it became inescapable just a short while later.  Rodan had paused along the trail, staring into a small depression that had formed between two large trees that had grown almost together.

“What is it?” Bredan asked.  He didn’t wait for a response, but came forward to take a look.

The warrior had come a long way, seen a lot of things since leaving Crosspath, but he still grew pale as he looked into the dell.  He stared until he heard Glori and Xeeta coming up, then he quickly turned and moved to block them.

“What…” Glori began.

“You don’t want to see that,” Bredan said, shaking his head.

Quellan came up with Kosk and took a look.  The cleric briefly went forward into the dell, and came up a minute later with a grim expression on his face.  “There were two of them,” he said.  “I believe they were killed in the attack on the camp.”

“I _hope_ they were already dead when the dragon-men decided to stop for dinner,” Kosk said.  “I imagine it had quite an effect in terms of motivating the rest of their prisoners to cooperate.”

“How far behind are we?” Bredan asked.

“They came through here yesterday, probably before nightfall,” Rodan said.  “We probably won’t catch them before they get to where they’re going.”

Bredan nodded.  He’d already thought as much.  “Let’s get moving,” he said.  “I don’t want to linger here.”

They pressed on, their mood darkened by the grim discovery.  At the few places where they came to a breach in the jungle canopy, they saw that the sky had become overcast, making it difficult to tell how far the day had progressed.  Quellan had reserved a portion of his spells to create water for them, relieving them of the need to search out fresh sources, but they had already encountered several streams along their course of march.  Most of those were small enough to step over, but they were still wary of any local wildlife that might be stopping by for a drink.

They came to another waterway a few hundred yards after their encounter with the victims of the dragon-men.  This one was a stream that had worried out a shallow gully about twenty feet across.  At the moment, however, the softly gurgling brook was only about four feet across.

“Good thing we didn’t come during the rainy season,” Glori said.

Rodan had started forward toward the stream but came to a sudden halt.  “What is it?” Bredan asked.

“We’re not alone,” the tiefling said.

The others all reached for the weapons.  “Dragon-men?” Quellan asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rodan said.  “They wanted us to know they’re here.”

“Who?” Glori asked.

As if in response, the growth on the far side of the gully stirred, and a figure stepped out into view.  It was one of the cat-men.  Its coat was a deep brown tinged with gray.  It wore a sort of wrap with a leather harness that carried several spears across its back.  A wooden spear-thrower that could have doubled as a club in a pinch hung from a throng at its side.  It held up hands that were empty, but the gesture also highlighted the slightly-curved claws that tipped its fingers.

“Nobody make any threatening moves,” Quellan said.

“It’s not alone,” Rodan said, careful to keep his bow at his side.

Bredan stepped forward, almost to the edge of the stream.  The cat-man didn’t react, but there were faint rustles all along the far rim of the gully, enough to suggest that the creatures at least matched the companions in terms of numbers.  “Careful,” Glori whispered.

“We mean you no harm,” Bredan said.  He held up his hands in an echo of the creature’s gesture.  “We are looking for some of our people who were taken prisoner.  Do you understand?”

The cat-man regarded Bredan for a long moment.  Then its lips drew back and it hissed, “Mrrrhrrr, rawrrr.”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Kosk said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 265

The bushes shifted again, and a second cat-man came into view.  This one was slightly smaller and darker than the first, but more notable were the obvious scars that covered its legs and lower torso.

“That’s the one we helped out of the trap!” Glori said.

“It looks quite recovered,” Kosk said.

The new arrival came up next to the first.  The bigger one growled something, and pointed to the companions.  The other one growled back.

“Quellan, can you use your magic to understand them?” Glori asked.

“That spell is within my abilities, but I do not have it prepared at the moment,” the cleric said.

“I’m not sure they’re going to sit here and wait for morning,” Kosk said.

“We don’t have time to wait,” Bredan said.  He trudged forward through the stream and approached the two cats.  Both tensed slightly, but the armed one made an obvious effort not to reach for its weapons.  But they could all sense a slight stirring within the undergrowth.

Bredan came to a stop a pace away from the larger cat, which he gauged to be the leader.  “I am Bredan,” he said.  “Bredan,” he repeated, tapping his chest.

The cat watched him closely but did not otherwise respond.

“It is difficult to communicate meaning via pantomime,” Kalasien said.

“Perhaps that might not be necessary,” Quellan said.  “Glori.  Your illusions.”

The bard nodded and took up her lyre, careful to move slowly so as not to provoke the watching cats.  She began to play, a soft melody that seemed to drift up into the forest canopy above.

Shapes of light began to take on form above the waters of the stream.  They took on solidity, forming an image of the _Golden Gull_.  The two cats watched, seemingly entranced, as Glori used her _minor illusion_ cantrip to show a series of scenes, from the wreck of the ship and the subsequent landing to the attack on the camp and the capture of the crew.  The dragon-men were a bit abstract, since Glori had only Kavek’s descriptions to go off of, but the cats clearly got the idea; both hissed when they saw them.

When the illusion finally faded, Bredan made a gesture toward the tracks in the muddy ground around the stream, then pointed toward the forest.  His expression made his intent unmistakable.

The lead cat looked at him for a long moment.  Then it reached out and pointed a claw toward the warrior’s chest.  “Breh-dan,” it said.

“Bredan,” he echoed.

The cat pointed toward its own chest.  “Mrr-ikk,” it said.

“Looks like we’ve made some new friends,” Quellan said.

“Or at least someone who’s not going to immediately try to kill us,” Xeeta qualified.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 266

Sometime in the recent past, a local calamity had toppled one of the ancient giants of the forest.  The tree had sagged into the grasp of several of its neighbors, forming an awkward ramp slick with clinging vines and damp lichens.

The violent death of the tree had torn up its roots, leaving behind a muddy hollow.  Fresh growth had already begun to reclaim that space, but it sufficed as a shelter for Bredan and his companions, both new and old.

The warrior kept shifting his gaze from the cats standing along the edge of the hollow and the scene at its center.  Quellan was kneeling there, heedless of the mud that slicked his steel armor.  His shield and mace were laid carefully at his side, within easy reach.  Glori was crouched next to him, but the cleric seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, with his eyes closed and his lips moving slightly.

Bredan looked back over at the cats.  Mrrik and Graaka, the cat they had recused from the trap at the root-tree, were paying close heed to the priest’s spell-ritual.  The other four were spread out in the surrounding jungle, keeping watch.  Bredan couldn’t help but crack a smile at the thought of them.  They were the entirety of Mrrik’s force; the rustling that the companions had sensed back at the meeting along the stream had been a ruse to suggest a much larger group.  It was a reminder that for all their apparently primitive nature, the cat-men should not be underestimated.

More evidence for that was visible in front of the cleric.  There was a map there, sculpted in the mud of the hollow.  It showed the camp of the dragon-men to a surprising level of detail, down to tiny huts fashioned out of leaves and twigs.  The cats had created it in a matter of minutes.

The cat-men had also proven their worth in other ways.  They had already led them past several traps, including a pair of deadfalls that would have created quite a bit of noise had they been triggered.  They hadn’t seen any sentries yet, but Bredan had no doubt that the cats would have warned them if there had been any along their route of approach.  Mrrik had taken them on a roundabout route to this point, gesturing to indicate that they were getting close when they stopped here to make their plans.

Quellan finally came out of his fugue and blinked.  “Did you find them?” Glori asked.

The cleric nodded.  “I found them.”

He described what he had seen through his _arcane eye_.  As he spoke, Glori strummed her lyre, conjuring another _minor illusion_ to place the features he mentioned on the map.  Mrrik and Graaka had accepted the workings of the spell—the latter cat had earlier touched the figures, confirming that they were not real—and leaned in to get a better look as the blank canvas of the map took on added levels of detail.  Bredan took a step closer so he could look over their shoulders.

What he saw was not encouraging.

“So, there’s an outer ring of four sentries, and then pairs stationed along the inner perimeter here, here, and here,” Kosk said.  Quellan nodded in confirmation.  “How many altogether in the camp, would you say?”

“A few hundred, at least,” Quellan said.

“That’s not good,” Xeeta said.

“Not all of them appeared to be warriors,” the cleric amended.  “But most carried at least something that could be used as a weapon.”

“Can’t blame them for being vigilant, not after what we’ve already seen in this place,” Kosk noted.

“And the sailors are being held there?” Bredan asked, pointing to a complex of pens that had materialized near the center of the settlement.  Glori had crafted her illusion with such fealty that he could even make out tiny hands clutching the bars.

“I saw about a dozen being held there,” Quellan said.

Mrrik growled something.  When they looked up, he pointed to his chest, and then the slave pens.  “I think he’s asking if there are any of his people being held there,” Glori asked.

Quellan nodded.  “I only saw a few, but yes,” he said.  “They were being kept separate from the humans.”

Glori modified the illusion, placing a handful of cats into one of the pens.  The cat made a feral noise and drew back its lips to reveal pointed teeth.

“We’ll get them out,” Bredan said.  He waved to get Mrrik’s attention, then made a gesture to the pens, snapping his hands together to simulate breaking bars.  “We’ll get them out.”

“What about Sond?” Glori asked.

“I didn’t see her,” Quellan said.  He pointed to one of the huts off to the side of the main cluster.  “But that hut there is being guarded.  She could be inside.”

Glori strummed, and a sentry shimmered into being in front of the hut.

“What about this place,” Kosk said, pointing with his staff toward the large hut in the center.  Mrrik had clearly given the spot emphasis in the design of his map, and his model showed it to be at least twice the size of the surrounding structures.

The cat leader matched Kosk’s gesture, pointing at it with his spear-thrower.  “Natak,” he said.

“Natak?” Kosk asked.  “That some kind of dragon boss?”

The cat man spread his arms and puffed up his shoulders.  “Natak.”  He twisted his face into a harsh and obviously hostile expression.  He feigned swinging his thrower down in a violent arc.  “Natak.”

“Okay, obviously someone we’d prefer not to meet,” Glori said.

“We may not have a choice,” Xeeta said.  “There’s no way we’re going to get in there unobserved, let alone get the sailors and Mrrik’s people out.”

“We’ll need to split up,” Kosk said.  “It’s the only way.  One force to cause a distraction, while the other sneaks in to break our guys out.”

“Risky,” Glori said.  “These dragon-men are clearly bad news.  With hundreds of them in there, either force could get overwhelmed before the other could come to help.”

“It’s a good plan,” Rodan said.  “Given a big enough distraction, I could probably get to those cages unseen.”

“The cats can go with you,” Glori said.  “They are obviously good at stealth.”

“Xeeta, you should go with the sneak force as well,” Kosk said.

“I think my spells can be of more use to the distraction group,” Xeeta said.

“Glori can fulfill that role,” the dwarf said.  “Obviously Bredan and Quellan won’t be sneaking in, and Rodan might need some firepower to cover the escape.”

“You can use your necklace to look like one of them,” Quellan suggested.  “Might help you get in, maybe cause some confusion.”

“I can use my magic to help cover our escape,” Glori said.  “Assuming a _wall of fire_ gives them pause.”

“Okay, we hit them hard, draw them off, then circle back around the rejoin the others,” Bredan said.

“Lot of things that could go wrong,” Kalasien said.

“Yeah, there always are,” Kosk said.  “But I’ve planned a few raids in my day.  This may be our best chance.”

“Glori, show the cats the plan,” Bredan said.

Glori conjured up another illusion, this time showing the two-pronged attack on the dragon-men’s camp.  Mrrik watched intently as the scenario played out.  To Bredan it was like some kind of game, with the illusory figures representing pieces moving back and forth acros the board.  But he knew only too well that those pieces represented his friends, and fragile flesh and blood.

The cat absorbed the scene, then pointed to Glori and growled a command.

“I think he wants you to do it again, Glori,” Quellan said.

Glori repeated the illusion.  This time the cat suggested a change; he pointed to his chest, and then at the distraction force.  Graaka said something, a query, but the larger cat shook his head and pointed again at the tiny figures approaching the side of the camp opposite the slave pens.

“What’s that about, do you think?” Xeeta whispered to Bredan.

“I don’t know, but I agree that we should have at least one of the cats with us,” he said.  “They know this jungle a heck of a lot better than we do.”

Glori made the change, and Mrrik hissed in approval.  He gestured with his spear thrower, plotting two courses out from the sides of the dragon-man camp that met up at an exposed root a few feet away.

“A rendezvous point,” Kosk noted.

“We’d better do everything we can to keep at least some of them alive,” Rodan said.  “We’ll have a lot harder time linking up again without their guidance.”

“I’d like to focus on keeping all of us alive,” Xeeta said.

“All right,” Bredan said.  “It sounds like we have plan.  Let’s do it while we still have daylight.”

“Be careful,” Xeeta said to Bredan.  “All of you.”

“You too.”

“We’ll keep them busy,” Glori said.  “Just get our people out of there.”

The two groups separated, with Rodan and Xeeta heading over to join the cats.  Mrrik and Graaka engaged in a quiet discussion next to the trunk of the tree.

Kalasien came to Bredan as he watched the exchange.  “You know that they’re just using us to get their own people out of that camp,” the agent said.

Bredan looked at him and shrugged.  “What does it matter?” he asked.  “We need their help.”  He let out a tired sigh.  “I understand what you’re saying.  We’ve only just met these creatures, and we’ve already had one armed clash with them.  But thus far, they seem a heck of a lot better than those dragon-men.  So for now, we have no choice but to trust them.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 267

Drazakatharas was not happy.

The young black snapped the butt of his spear against the ground as he walked, expressing his displeasure with each loud crack of the weapon.  It was a gesture of pique and he hated himself for that, and for the fact that he’d only started doing it when he was outside of the central ring of huts that made up the core of the village.

The breeze was following him as he departed, and so he could still smell the tantalizing scents of the feast that was being prepared.  It was not fair.  First he had missed the raid, and now he was going to miss the feast celebrating the unexpected bounty.  He’d only gotten a brief look at the creatures the hunters had brought back—so hideous looking, like hairless tabaxi!  But they’d had great riches with them, weapons and tools made of metal, strange garments, and other things that had been claimed by Natakaskinderoth himself.  Draz hadn’t seen those things, of course, but the rumor mill was already churning.  There was even a report that the leader of the pink-skinned things was a tiny imp who possessed powerful magic.

Draz’s expression soured further as he saw who was at the outpost.  Zharasavakkar saw him approaching and tapped his brother, Zhavekadranas, on the arm.  Zhavek had a new dagger displayed prominently on his belt, his share of the riches won on the raid.  The big green noted his attention and grinned as he tapped the hilt of the weapon.

“Too bad you missed the raid, Draz,” Zhavek said.  “A rich haul, rich indeed.”

“And now you are going to miss the feast,” Zharas added.  “Such misfortune.”

The two greens let out a hooting cackle that was only about their tenth most annoying feature, as far as Draz was concerned.  He shouldered his spear and started past them, but Zhavek said, “Hey, Draz.  Don’t be sour.  Here, I saved you something from the raid.”  Draz stopped as the green produced something from his hunting pouch.

“What is it?”

Zhavek grinned.  “One of them was wearing it on its foot.  Go ahead, take it!  See if it fits!”

The two greens laughed, but Draz took the item.  The awkward thing could not possibly fit him, of course, but the leather-work was quite good; he could maybe make it into an arm-wrap or a pouch.

Zhavek’s mirth faded a bit as he realized that Draz intended to keep the joke-gift.  “Go on,” he said.  “Shrevak will be happy to see you.  I know he’s eager to be back in time for the feast.”

“I wonder how those things taste,” Zharas said.

“Hopefully better than they look!” Zhavek said.

The two laughed again.  “Go on then, kinless,” Zharas said.

Draz had started to turn away but froze, then slowly turned back.  Zhavek seemed to have realized they’d gone too far, for he touched his brother on the arm and then shifted his hand to rest on the handle of his new knife.  Their wariness was unnecessary, as all of them knew that Draz would earn far worse if he brawled while on guard duty, but the moment of tension stretched out nevertheless.

Finally Draz relaxed and showed his teeth.  “Perhaps I will see you again, after the feast, Zharas,” he said.

The green recovered quickly, but there was something forced in his laughter.  The two resumed their banter as Draz started ahead toward the far sentry post where he would spend the entirety of the feast on watch-duty.

But Draz had only gotten a few steps away when he came to a sudden stop.  He stood there, holding his spear, trying to discern what had alerted him.  He was young, the veteran of only a handful of hunts, but he had the instincts of his ancestors, a race of apex predators.  The jungle quickly grew thick beyond the edge of the village, so he couldn’t see anything beyond about a dozen steps, let alone all the way out to the sentry post.

The greens had started bickering over something and didn’t even notice that he was still there.  Draz toned them out, focusing his senses on the forest.

Despite his concentration, he still started a bit in surprise when the creature emerged from behind a tree a scant fifteen steps ahead.

It was instantly obvious that the thing was another of the hairless beings that the hunters had captured in the raid.  He had no idea where this one had come from, or how it had gotten past Shrevakalosar.  It truly was hideous, with pale skin lacking both scales and color.  It was small and thin and looked almost frail.  It had something in its hands, and as it lifted it Draz tensed and raised his spear.  But the object didn’t look like a weapon; it resembled a tabour, of all things.  That similarity was confirmed a moment later as the creature ran its fingers across the front of the object and a stream of music came out.

The melody was haunting, even beautiful, but Draz barely heard it before a wave of pure and utter terror came over him.  He let out a scream and ran back toward the village.  The green brothers stared at him in utter shock, but he hardly noticed them; all he could feel was his fear and the urge to get away.

The terror didn’t begin to ease until he was back at the edge of the village.  He could now hear the signal horns, and as he came to a stop the echoing call of the war drums summoning the tribe to fight.  As the fear ebbed it was replaced with a massive sense of shame.  He didn’t even have his spear; he must have dropped it as he fled.

Hunters were emerging from the outer huts, armed with hastily-grabbed spears, war clubs, and axes.  Most were blacks, with a few greens from the inner huts beginning to join them.  One of the former stopped him and called out a question: what was the threat?  Draz couldn’t speak, he just shook his head.  He fell in with the hunters as they made their way back toward the outpost he had left just moments before.  One of them saw that he was weaponless and offered him a light throwing spear.  Draz took it with a bark of thanks.

As they approached the outpost he didn’t see either of the green brothers, but the jungle was a scene of major confusion.  It looked like there was some fighting over by the northern outpost, but he couldn’t clearly make out anything through the dense growth.  Some of the hunters with him headed in that direction.  More were coming from the village, but Draz didn’t see any sign of Natakaskinderoth.  The drums continued to pound, their deep pulsing beat like a throbbing within Draz’s skull.

One of the blacks in front of him suddenly staggered and nearly fell.  As he turned, Draz saw that there was a tiny spear with a feathered end sticking out of his shoulder.  He turned and saw enemies moving in the jungle to his right, not thirty steps distant.  He recognized the fast-moving outlines of tabaxi, but then his jaw dropped as he saw a bulky figure, almost as large as he was, clad in what looked like a coat of metal.  As he moved through the jungle stray beams of sunlight struck the plates, causing them to blaze brightly.

Draz belatedly opened his mouth to shout a warning, but several others had already spotted the new threat and were turning to face it.  Half a dozen hunters charged forward into the brush, only to suddenly freeze and then scatter in every direction, screaming.  Draz felt a cold feeling clutch at his gut in memory.  He scanned the nearby jungle and finally spotted the creature with the tabour.

A huntleader had joined the group at some point during their approach, and barked a command.  Draz lifted his spear, but hesitated.  He did not want to admit that he was afraid of drawing the creature’s attention, but there was no denying that it was true.

But there were plenty of other hunters who obeyed the command and hurled their spears.  But even as the barrage of missiles was unleashed the strange creature was playing its instrument again.  The air between the two groups began to shimmer, and Draz heard a deep rushing roar.  As the spears hit that disturbance they were caught and flung high into the air.  They vanished into the jungle harmlessly.  Not a single one had come anywhere near its target.

The huntleader was shouting new commands, urging them forward.  Draz saw that he wasn’t the only one hesitating this time.  He heard a loud bellow behind him and almost sagged with relief.

He glanced back to see one of the _hukkar_ surging toward them.  The hulking red wore fresh graa-markings upon his crest, a warning to both friends and foes that he had embraced the blood rage triggered by the ritual plant.  He carried a huge axe in both hands, sweeping it back and forth as though it was a bamboo switch.  Draz was only too happy to get out of his way.  He crouched low as the berserker rushed past, careful to present nothing that could be interpreted as a threat or challenge to the red’s drug-addled mind.

Once the red was clear Draz rose up again.  He hefted his throwing-spear so it looked like he was doing something, but he knew that it would only be a waste of his weapon to attempt a throw while the barrier of rushing winds was in effect.

The hukkar did not hesitate, plunging through the barrier.  For a moment Draz though that he too would be thrown up into the air, but the hulking red’s bulk carried him through with just a slight hitch in his stride.  Draz couldn’t see the metal-clad creature, but another foe had stepped forward to face the raging berserker.  This one also wore metal, though it was of a different sort, a flowing garment that clung to the outlines of his form.  It was so amazing that Draz didn’t at first notice his weapon, a straight bar of metal that was almost as big as the hukkar’s axe.

The red shrieked a challenge and rushed forward at his foe.  The creature held its ground, itself an impressive feat with that berserk hulk charging toward it.  It moved well, avoiding the first massive swing of the axe and then swinging its weapon in an arc that bit into the hukkar’s hide and unleashed a spray of blood that Draz could see clearly even from more than thirty paces away.

But he doubted that the metal-clad warrior knew that by claiming first blood, it would drive the hukkar into a frenzy.

Draz could only watch spellbound as the two foes engaged in a wild melee.  There was other fighting going on around them, the strange warrior’s friends fighting with some of the hunters that had braved the wind-barrier, but those battles seemed to fade into the background as the two titans exchanged blows.  At first it seemed as though there was no way that the smaller creature could withstand the hukkar’s rage, but somehow it did.  At one point it avoided a swing that should have chopped it in half; Draz knew all too well how sharp those huge blades were.  There was something, a flash of reddish light that he didn’t quite make out clearly.  But the result was obvious; the berserker staggered to the side, off-balance, and the alien warrior was countering with his own weapon.  Time seemed to slow down as Draz watched the glittering metal slab come swinging around.  A stray sunbeam caused it to glow, and for an instant it seemed that it had become a stream of fire.  The hukkar was struck a blow so mighty that Draz thought he could almost feel it in his own body.  He stumbled back.  Draz waited for a final effort, but watched in stunned shock as the berserker toppled to the ground.

“Fight!” a voice shouted in his ear.  “Fight, you cursed piece of dung, or I’ll kill you where you stand!”

Draz started and looked up to see the hunt leader standing over him, his war-club raised threateningly.  He flinched and hefted his spear.  He hesitated for an instant, but the shimmer of the barrier was gone.  He targeted the warrior standing over the fallen hukkar and drew back his arm for the cast.

But before he could release the weapon, a bright beam of light slashed past him, blinding him for an instant.  He heard a grunt of pain and saw the hunt leader, his chest scorched black.  The veteran hunter was staring down at a glowing aura of sparkling light that surrounded his body.

That was enough for Draz.  He took advantage of the distraction to seek cover.  He didn’t run far, moving maybe fifteen paces to an old stump substantial enough to offer some concealment.  He slowly popped his head up to take a look.

He was surprised to see that the enemy was retreating, falling back into the jungle.  The reason became obvious a moment later when Draz heard a guttural chant coming from the village.  A full cohort of half a dozen hukkar, accompanied by one of the underpriests, was emerging from the outer ring of huts.  More hunters accompanied them, but they trailed behind the wedge of berserkers.  The chant was coming from the underpriest, who was adding markings to the huge reds as they marched, throwing handfuls of powdered graa into their faces.  The powder was not as potent as the concentrated juice that was extracted from the plant, but it worked faster.  Draz could see the berserkers pick up their pace as the drug took effect.  He looked back at the intruders, who were now almost invisible within the jungle.  He could almost feel pity for them.  He glanced back at the village, but there was no sign of Natakaskinderoth or his shaman, Rukakaverok.  That was strange… why had the tribal chief not joined the hunt?

Such musings did not distract him from watching the pursuit of the intruders.  Curiosity drew him out of his cover, and he fell in with the other hunters who were following a safe distance behind the berserkers.  The six hukkar were now rushing forward toward the jungle, deep growls of anticipation coming from their throats.

But as they approached the wall of green the reds came to a sudden stop.  Draz tensed, expecting some other disaster to be unleashed upon them.  But the berserkers just stood there.  The hunters likewise stopped, not sure what was happening, warily scanning the jungle for danger.

One of the reds suddenly clutched at his head and unleashed a terrible scream.  A second one turned and without warning drove his axe down into the shoulder of his neighbor.  The injured hukkar staggered but managed to get his own weapon around, slashing his attacker’s leg open.  Another of the reds suddenly turned and sprinted into the jungle, while the last two drew back, apparently bewildered by what was happening.

The underpriest rushed forward, trying to restore some kind of order to the situation.  He ran up to the screaming red, trying to calm him.  But as the berserker turned around the priest must have seen something in his eyes, for he suddenly stopped and began to retreat.  That didn’t help him as the red leapt forward and buried his axe deep in the priest’s skull.

Draz abruptly realized that he was only a few paces away from the closest of the hukkar.  Most of the other hunters had pulled back further, as confused as the berserkers by the look of them.  Draz turned and ran back to the village.  This time he didn’t stop until he was back in the dubious shelter of his slumped and leaky hut, where he crawled under his bed pad and covered his head with his arms.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 268

Tightly bound in her tiny cell, Galendra tried to ignore the competing complaints of her body and think.

Her head still throbbed, and even the tiny slivers of light that made it through the cracks in the walls of the hut made her eyes water.  She could hear the sounds of activity outside, occasionally punctuated by the sharp barks of the dragon-men.  The continued pain in her skull made her think that she had a concussion, but there was nothing to be done for it now.

They had given her food and water last night, after her “interview” with the tribal chief.  The water had been a blessed relief, but the food had been a foul-smelling paste that one of the guards had shoveled into her with a broad spoon that barely fit into her mouth.  She had seen things squirming in the bowl, and the rancid taste had almost made her gag, but not knowing when she’d get another meal had forced herself to swallow all that she was given.  The stuff hadn’t sat well, and stomach pangs had kept her awake for most of the night.

When she’d finally woken up, she’d felt only incrementally better.  Her captors had ignored her requests for a bathroom break, so she’d had no choice but to piss herself.  The stink of it was just another in the long list of humiliations inflicted upon her.

She had first held out hope for rescue, but her view of the dragon-man camp had squashed that hope.  There had to be hundreds of the creatures there, and the priest’s presence had confirmed that they had potent magic.  Her former passengers were powerful, she knew firsthand, but she doubted that even they would have a chance against such an imbalance of numbers.  She wondered where they had gotten themselves to.  Clearly staying at the beach was no longer an option.  Or maybe, she thought in a moment of despair, their bones were already cluttering up the nest of some jungle predator.

She heard something, a ruckus that rose over the general background din of the camp.  When it continued, she lifted her head to try to hear better, ignoring the sharp stabbing pains that the motion caused.  She couldn’t see anything through the narrow gaps in the walls of the hut, but a moment later she heard the low drone of signal horns.  That created a greater stir, and she could hear dragon-men shouting at each other, some of them sounding like they were right outside her prison.

She pulled herself up, groaning against the gag at the fresh waves of agony that shot through her skull.  Her arms were numb, and while that was a mercy compared to the pain from before, she was genuinely worried that she might have suffered permanent damage.  She had already tried to twist around so that her arms were in front of her, but the bindings had been too tight to allow even her small body to contort sufficiently.  So instead she rubbed her face against one of the bars of her cell, trying to loosen the gag enough to get it off.

As she worked at it, she heard more horns, accompanied by a deep booming sound that she thought at first was a distant explosion or earth tremor.  Only after the sound had continued for a few moments did she realize that they were drums.  The agony in her head seemed to pulse in echo to them as she struggled to escape from her bindings.  The already raw skin along the side of her face split as she rubbed more aggressively, but she ignored the pain.  If she could get her gag off for just a few seconds…

The panel “door” to the hut swung open, and a figure stepped into view.  For a moment the increased intensity of the light blinded her, but there was no mistaking the identity of the new arrival, even before it growled something unpleasant at her.

Blinking back tears, she met its stare and saw her fate reflected in those dark orbs.

The dragon-man lifted his spear and took a step toward her.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 269

Galendra made one last effort to break free, but only managed to fall back onto her side.  The bars of the cage that had so stymied her would be no barrier at all to the dragon-man’s spear, she knew.

She tensed as it lifted the weapon to strike, but the expected blow did not come.  Instead the creature just stood there stiffly.  Galendra blinked at it in surprise, but her confusion transformed into something else as the guard suddenly went limp and toppled to the floor.  A figure that had been concealed behind it caught it and eased it down, even managing to shoot out a foot that interrupted the spear before it could clatter on the hard floor of the hut.

The familiar figure shot her a quick grin.  It was Rodan, the tiefling scout and archer.  He finished easing the dead guard to the floor, then quickly wiped his bloody sword clean before sliding it back into its scabbard.  He produced a dagger as he crossed to the small cell.

“Just hold on, I’ll have you out of here in a blink,” he said.  Galendra, blinking back tears, nodded.

The leather throngs that held the cage shut parted after a few strokes of his knife.  Galendra winced as he lifted her out of the cage.  She flushed at the thought of how she must look in her current state, but he only touched her face lightly and then carefully cut her free.

Fresh pain shot down her arms as blood flowed back into them, but this time she welcomed it.  As Rodan cut away her gag she said, “My crew.”

“Xeeta and Kalasien are getting them.  We have allies.”  He handed her his waterskin, and she gratefully accepted it.

“The others are making a distraction?” she asked when she’d finished clearing the worst of the nastiness from her throat.

The tiefling cocked his head toward the continued sounds of confusion coming from outside the hut.  “Trying to, anyway.  Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?”

Just the thought of walking sent slivers of pain through Galendra’s body, but she shook her head.  “You’ll need your hands free.  I can walk.  And do more, if needed.”  She dug in the pockets of her soiled trousers.  The dragon-men had taken her spell-bag, but it was a habit to keep a collection of items in her pockets, and she quickly came up with a small piece of mica that she clutched tightly in her hand.  “You have an exit strategy?”

Rodan nodded.  “Sneak as far as we can, then run like hell.”

“Works for me.”

Galendra had expected confusion from what she’d heard inside the hut, but that hadn’t prepared her for the chaos she witnessed when Rodan took her outside the hut.  He quickly led them around the base of the structure, pausing for a moment under its supporting poles as a couple of the dragon-men rushed past.  With both of them concealed under the shelter of his dark cloak they were almost invisible unless someone looked right at them.  Galendra swallowed as one of the creatures passed no more than five feet away, but it didn’t even glance in their direction.

Once the tiefling judged the way clear enough they rushed forward again, this time into an alley between two larger huts a stone’s throw away.  There was a lot of smoke in the air, and as they moved forward Galendra glanced back and caught a glimpse of the raised roof of the chieftain’s hut.  The entire place was a pyre, with flames shooting up under the eaves in an eerie echo of the wings that had spread their before.  Rodan tugged on her sleeve, and with a final inner curse directed at the dragon-man chief and his priest she followed him onward.

The layout of the village was complicated, with rings of huts punctuated by animal pens and other enclosures, but the tiefling seemed to know where he was going.  Dragon-men were still visible everywhere they looked, but most of them seemed to be gathering around the central hut or hurrying off toward additional disturbances on the other side of the camp.  Galendra could hear noises that sounded like fighting coming from that direction, and she hoped that her rescuers hadn’t bitten off more than they could chew.

They got as far as the outermost ring of huts without being detected, but as they came around one last raised structure to see the jungle ahead their luck ran out.  Galendra caught a hint of movement and hissed a warning, but Rodan was already spinning to meet the dragon-man that was lunging at him with a knobby club.  The tiefling avoided the swing that would have cracked his skull if not worse, but before he could counter the creature lunged forward and drove its shoulder into his chest, knocking him off his feet.

Galendra didn’t hesitate.  Clutching the bit of mica tightly in her hand, she unleashed a _shatter_ spell that exploded with a roar of sound.  The impact of the spell knocked the creature backward into a pen of wooden stakes that extended round the base of the hut.  It toppled through the wall and didn’t immediately move.

Rodan had already rolled to his feet.  “Well, they might have heard that,” he said.  “Nothing to do now but make a run for it.  Let’s go!”

They sprinted toward the jungle.  The cleared space around the village hadn’t looked that big at first glance, but now that they were running for their lives it looked like an eternity.  At first Galendra didn’t hear any signs of pursuit, but they were only halfway across the gap when shouts issued from behind them.  She glanced back to see two of the dragon-men rushing after them, one holding a spear, the other another of those nasty clubs.

Galendra started to slow, but Rodan urged her forward.  “Keep going,” he said.  “Don’t stop until you get to the trees.”

“But…” she said.

“Just go!” he yelled.  To her amazement he turned and sprinted back toward the two creatures.  She almost stumbled at the sight of it; he was _fast_.  The two dragon-men seemed taken aback at first, but they quickly closed upon their adversary.

Galendra kept on running, hoping that the tiefling knew what he was doing.  She rushed past some old stumps where the forest had been cleared back, but didn’t slow until the resurgent growth had begun to thicken around her.  The actual edge of the jungle proper was still a good thirty feet ahead, but she stopped to take a quick look behind her to see if Rodan was all right or needed her help.

What she saw only confirmed that her passengers were no ordinary travelers.  She’d seen that in the encounter with the giant crocodiles and the fight with the dragon turtle, but now she saw it again in action.  One of the two dragon-men was already down, flames blackening its body.  The other one was trying to keep Rodan at bay with its spear, but the tiefling darted and weaved around its wild thrusts.  Even as it started to retreat, he dropped into a crouch and sprang forward, rolling past it and stabbing it in the side with his rapier.  The blow did not look that serious, but the dragon-man was knocked off its feet.  It fell and rolled to a stop a few feet away.  When it stopped moving Rodan was almost back to where Galendra waited.

“That was impressive,” she said.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Rodan said.  “Or into them, as the case may be.”

They continued their flight.  The jungle slowed their progress considerably, but Galendra was happy to exchange that for the cover it offered.  If there was a trail here, she couldn’t see it, but Rodan was careful to blaze a path that she was able to follow.

As the forest swallowed them up, the sounds of violence and confusion behind them diminished somewhat.  Galendra didn’t hold any illusions that this meant that they were safe.  Her lungs burned with the effort of their brief but intense dash from the dragon-man camp, but she forced herself forward to catch up to Rodan.  He was moving at a more or less normal speed again, but his longer legs made it difficult for her to keep up with him.  “Crew,” she said.

He came to a stop and said, “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Galendra looked ahead and belatedly became aware of figures moving in the trees just ahead.  At first she tensed reflexively, but then rushed forward as she recognized the members of her crew.  There were several of the cat-men with them; those had to be the allies that the tiefling had mentioned.  They were clustered around a few others of their kind that looked horribly abused, and she realized that they must have come from the camp of the dragon-men as well.

The men of her crew gathered around to greet her.  Their faces showed a mix of relief and shame, and she forced herself to put on a reassuring smile.  She greeted several of them by name, then walk over to a figure sitting slumped against the protruding root mass of a large tree.

“Torrin,” she said.  “Are you all right?”

“Fine, captain, just fine… thanks to these cats and our… passengers.”  He coughed weakly.

Galendra stepped up next to him.  “Just take it easy for a moment,” she said.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry we let you down, captain.”

“You didn’t let me down.”  She looked at the gathered survivors; there were fewer than a dozen of them visible.  “Is this all that’s left?”

“I’m afraid so.  Those things… they… they’re monsters, feral monsters!”

He coughed again, but before she could say anything more one of the cats came over and growled something.  “We have to keep moving,” Rodan said.  “We’re too close to the camp.”

The former prisoners dragged themselves up again, the stronger ones helping those less able to continue on their own.  Rodan brought up the rear, and she saw Kalasien talking with him.  The Arreshian blended into the shadows of the forest with the skill of someone who had carried out these kinds of missions before.

Their escorts finally paused at a small clearing a few hundred yards from the dragon-men’s camp.  Galendra wasn’t as bad off as some, especially the ragged-looking cat-men that had to be virtually carried from the camp, but she slumped to the ground with the same relief as the others.  A cat came around, offering a gourd of water and small balls of some kind of root paste.  She nodded at it in gratitude and quickly consumed her portion.

Her body demanded that she stay right where she was, and maybe even lie down for a bit, but she forced herself up and went over to Rodan.  The tiefling was looking back the way they had come, possibly checking for signs of pursuit.

“See any of them?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he reported.  “But Kalasien said that the break-out at the main pens won’t go unremarked for long.”

“You’re hurt,” she said.

He glanced down at his right arm, where the sleeve of his tunic had been burned away, leaving his skin scarred with ugly gray blotches.  “Yeah, some of those bastards can spit acid, apparently.  I’m good for now.”

“The cleric and the singer?”

“They’re with the other group.  They can tend to you and your injured men when we all get clear, but there was no way that the half-orc could have gotten into the camp undetected.”

“I wasn’t second-guessing your plan,” she said.  “But shouldn’t we get further away?”

“We’re waiting for someone,” he said.  He looked back in the direction of the camp, but the dense jungle growth made it difficult to see more than a dozen yards away.  He looked over at the cats, but they were focused on tending to their injured companions.  “All right, you all had better get moving, I’ll stay and…”

He was interrupted as a burst of flames erupted in the center of the clearing.  The sailors and cats all fell back in alarm, which only intensified as a figure stepped through the fire.  Galendra had her magic ready to cast at the intruder, but she managed to catch herself just in time as she recognized the newcomer.

Rodan was even faster.  He was at Xeeta’s side even as the flames of her _dimension door_ faded, easing her down as she slumped to the forest floor.  Her clothes were bloody from several wounds, and a dragon-man spear was embedded in her side.

“What happened?” Rodan asked.  He quickly took a bandage out of his pouch and carefully pulled the spear out of the wound.  Thankfully the dragon-men didn’t barb their weapons, but even so it was a nasty injury.

“Apparently they got upset when I set their big house on fire,” the sorceress said.

“Were the others with you?” Galendra asked.

“No, the main distraction was on the other side of the camp,” Xeeta said.  “Good to see you intact, captain.”

“And you, but I think we’d better save our reunion for later,” Galendra said.  “Those creatures seem like the sort to bear grudges.”

“She’s not wrong,” Rodan said.  “Can you walk?”

“I don’t think I’ll be managing any feats of acrobatics, but I can move,” Xeeta said.  “Makes me wish we hadn’t drunk all those healing potions back in Li Syval.”

“Well, maybe we’ll find a friendly temple where we can buy some more,” Rodan said, helping her up.  She grimaced a bit, but was able to remain upright.

Kalasien suddenly burst out of the underbrush a few feet away.  “Bad news.  We’ve got a party of trackers coming after us, looks like about twenty or so.”

“Looks like I didn’t draw them off as effectively as I thought,” Xeeta said.

“This could be another group,” Rodan said.  He unlimbered his long bow.  “You all go on ahead.  I’ll hang back, see if I can delay them a bit.”

“Those are not good odds, Rodan,” Galendra said.

Xeeta straightened, pressing her hand against her wounded side.  “I am almost out of power, but I have one more surprise left for those bastards.”

Rodan met her gaze and then nodded.

“I should stay as well,” Galendra said.  “I can manage a few spells.”

“No,” Rodan said.  “Your place is with your crew.  Keep them safe.  We’ll catch up.”

Kalasien looked back toward the jungle.  “Whatever you’re doing, better do it now,” he said.  “They’ll be on top of us in moments.”

The battered survivors of the _Golden Gull_ and the cat-man prisoners dragged themselves to their feet and reentered the jungle on the far side of the clearing.  One of the cat-men, who was being all but carried by Graaka, briefly turned around and gave the two tieflings a measured look.  Then they were gone, swallowed up by the forest.  Even as the sounds of their progress faded, they were replaced by the crash of the dragon-men quickly approaching.

“What did you have in mind?” Rodan asked.

Xeeta went over to the far side of the clearing, choosing a spot somewhat off to the side from where the others had disappeared.  She tapped a large tree with her rod.  “This will do.  Get their attention.”

Rodan took an arrow from his quiver and set it against the bowstring.  He had been recovering his shafts whenever possible, but he was down to fewer than a dozen.  “Right,” he said.

They didn’t have long to wait; they’d barely taken cover behind the tree when the bushes on the other side of the clearing rustled and the first dragon-man appeared.  It was one of the green ones, its face flanked by a flaring crest that added to its ferocious visage.  It carried a pair of long spears.

Rodan stepped out from behind the tree, his bowstring taut, the feathered end of the arrow close to his cheek.  The creature saw him and let out a cry of warning, but before it could lift a spear his shot slammed hard into its chest.  It staggered back into the undergrowth, but others were already coming at its call, black and green forms taking on substance from the surrounding jungle.  A few of them unleashed attacks as they came into view, spears hurtling across the clearing.  One spat a stream of acid at the tiefling, but he’d already stepped back behind the cover of the tree, and the missiles either shot past or slammed into its trunk.

Rodan concentrated and summoned a globe of _darkness_ that engulfed the area of the jungle where the dragon-men were concentrated.  The two tieflings could hear them crashing around, shouting questions at each other.

“Nice,” Xeeta said.  “I was wondering if you’d picked up that trick.”

“One of the less repugnant gifts of our common ancestor,” Rodan said.  He cocked his head.  “Some of them are circling around, no doubt trying to flank us and cut us off.”

“We need to draw them in,” Xeeta said.

Rodan nodded.  He leaned around the reassuring bulk of the tree and shouted, “Hey, you cowardly reptiles!  We can’t wait all day here!”

The dragon-men couldn’t understand his words, of course, but the mocking tone of his voice clearly made it through, based on the furious roars that answered.  The crashing noises intensified, and a moment later one of the dragon-men stumbled clear of the _darkness_.  Rodan immediately shot it, but this time the arrow hit something hard and didn’t fully penetrate.

“Now might be a good time!” he said, ducking back.

“I can only do this once,” Xeeta said.  She took a quick look and only narrowly avoided having her head impaled by a spear that shot past.  More of the dragon-men had emerged from the black globe and were rushing forward, while the sounds from the jungle to either side of the clearing had intensified.  A gout of caustic gas hit the tree, causing the leaves on the surrounding bushes to instantly wilt and turn brown.

“Now?” Rodan suggested.

Xeeta didn’t respond, as she was already summoning her magic.  Her eyes flashed with fire as she unleashed the Demon, and those flames spread until they formed a blazing halo around her.  She lifted her rod, and a sheet of intense fire rose up in front of her, forming another _wall of fire_ that extended out for thirty feet in either direction.

The closest of the dragon-men were engulfed in those flames, their screams of pain overpowering the angry shouts from before.  One staggered through, its green hide now blackened with char.  It did not even see Rodan before the tiefling stabbed it through the neck.

“That won’t hold them for long,” he said.  “Can you run?”

“If the alternatives are running or dying, I can run,” she said.  The two of them rushed off into the jungle even as the flames from Xeeta’s spell continued to surge upward, spreading up into the canopy until it seemed like the whole world behind them was afire.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 270

The meeting with the tabaxi elders took place at dusk.

Bredan could still hardly believe what he was seeing as he and a select cohort of the shipwrecked survivors were escorted to the Hall of Feathers.  The tabaxi—they had finally learned the name of their hosts, thanks to Quellan’s _tongues_ spell—lived near the jungle canopy, on platforms erected around the trunks of huge trees.  Swaying bridges made of vines and plant fibers braided into ropes connected the platforms.  The tree-houses and their connecting “streets” looked fragile, even flimsy, but they supported even Quellan’s weight without difficulty.  But it was hard to resist the urge to look down at the forest floor about a hundred feet below them.

They had arrived late last night, after a desperate flight from the camp of the dragon-men—dragonborn, the tabaxi called them.  The reptilian creatures had not given up their pursuit until they were almost at the edges of the tabaxi city.  Their strength had been flagging at that point, and Bredan didn’t know that they’d reached a transition until he’d seen the sudden change that had come over Mrrik.  The tabaxi hunter had lifted his arms and let out a fearsome yowl that had Bredan summoning his sword.  But he put it away again quickly once he’d heard the chorus of answering cries around and _above_ them.  That was the first time he’d seen what the cats could accomplish high up in the trees.

Bredan guessed that there had to be at least a few hundred residents in the tabaxi settlement.  Most watched them with a mixture of wariness and concern, but there had also been excited growls and even what he assumed passed for smiles among the cat-men.  Quellan had told him that tales of their assault upon the dragonborn encampment had spread quickly, and that one of the cats they’d rescued had been a female of some importance in their hierarchy.

The Hall of Feathers wasn’t very large by the standards of Arresh, but here in the canopy it looked quite impressive.  Curtains made of the material that gave the place its name were drawn wide open by tawny-furred tabaxi at their approach, and they bowed deeply as the companions went inside.  In addition to Bredan, Glori, Quellan, and Kosk, the group included Kalasien, Elias, Sond, and Torrin.  Xeeta and Rodan had elected to remain behind with the sailors for now.  Quellan had healed the sorceress that morning, once he’d refreshed his magical reservoir, but the narrow escape from the dragonborn had taken a lot out of her.  Both tieflings had assured Bredan that they trusted him to represent their interests at the conclave.

The interior of the hall consisted of one large room.  The place wasn’t elaborately decorated, though there was a row of raised seats along the curving wall opposite the entry.  The elders, half a dozen aged tabaxi, were waiting for them.  Other tabaxi were seated around the perimeter of the room, and they let out a series of sharp growls that Bredan had learned was a sign of approbation as the adventurers came in.

The leader of the tabaxi was a gray-haired female called Wind Runner.  Seated at her feet on a small cushion, draped in a cloak of feathers that seemed huge on her emaciated form, was her daughter, Dancing Leaf.  The effects of her captivity and mistreatment at the hands of the dragonborn still showed on her features, but her eyes were bright and alive as she put her hands together and bowed in greeting.  Mrrik stood close beside her, hovering protectively, though he too nodded at the companions.  Quellan’s spell had revealed that his name meant, “Clear Eyes,” and as Bredan thought back to the assault and flight from the dragonborn he thought it appropriate.

Once they had all been offered cushions and gourds of spiced tea the meeting began.  Quellan cast his spell again, allowing him to serve as translator.

“Matriarch Wind Runner, we thank you for your hospitality,” Quellan said once the magic had taken hold.

The aged tabaxi’s response sounded like growls to Bredan’s ears, but she paused after each statement to allow the cleric a chance to translate.

“It is we who are grateful,” she said.  “You have taken up arms and risked your lives against our traditional adversaries, and restored our daughter to us.”

“We helped each other,” Bredan said.  “They took our people as well.”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding at the beach, and the injury that was inflicted upon your bonds-man.”  Quellan had already done some preparatory work in explaining to the tabaxi who they were and why they were here during the earlier casting of his spell, but it was clear that there would be more questions for them.  Bredan had spent most of the day thinking on what he would say at this meeting.

“The confusion is understandable,” Glori said.  “Our arrival here was unexpected, and we do not share a common language.”

“When you saved the life of Swift Climber, then we knew that you were not our enemies,” Wind Runner said.  Graaka—Swift Climber—was not present, but he had obviously passed on a detailed account of the fight with the dinosaurs and their subsequent encounter on the way to the dragonborn camp.  “We are in your debt,” the matriarch continued.  “Your people are welcome to remain here for as long as you wish.”

Bredan knew enough to know that was a two-sided arrangement; their presence here would add a potent defense to the tabaxi settlement.  Both the cats and the dragonborn were obviously skilled warriors despite their primitive equipment, but magical talent was apparently as rare here as it was back in Arresh.  Sond had told them about the aged priest who had interrogated her, and the tabaxi likewise seemed to have some healers among them, but both appeared to lack anyone with the firepower of Xeeta or the potent enchantments and illusions of Glori.

“Do you think that the dragonborn will attack here?” Kosk asked, putting Bredan’s thoughts into words.

Mrrik bristled at that, his back arching just like a domestic cat’s.  “They are welcome to try,” he hissed.

Wind Runner gave the warrior an indulgent look, but she added, “We have learned to remain vigilant when it comes to our enemies,” she said.  “If they make a move against us, we will know.”

“Thank you,” Bredan said.  He glanced over at Sond, who was dressed in a new tunic provided by the tabaxi.  “We would ask that the crew of our ship be allowed to remain here, for a time at least.  Our vessel was completely destroyed when we arrived, and we’ve gathered that we’re too far away from Fort Promise to attempt an overland journey.  We’ll probably have to build a new ship.”

“The dragonborn may object to such a project,” Mrrik said, once Quellan had repeated Bredan’s words.

“Likely,” Kosk said.

Wind Runner had kept her eyes fixed on Bredan while listening to Quellan’s recitation.  “Your words, they suggest that some of you have another plan,” she said.

“That is true,” Bredan said.  He quickly looked at each of his companions, confirming their assent, then reached into his pouch and drew out the bronze plaque they had taken from the ancient Syvalian fort further down the coast.  They had been able to clean it somewhat, but it still showed its age.  “We found this at an old fort that had been built by our people centuries ago,” he said.  “It is part of the reason that we came to this continent in the first place, though we had no intent to stop at this particular place.”

A soft stir passed through the elders as Quellan repeated his words.  “We remember the coming of your people, many generations ago,” Wind Runner said.  “They came seeking Savek Vor.”

The adventurers shared a look at that, though it was evident from their faces that none recognized the name.  “What does that mean?” Quellan asked.

Wind Runner lifted her hand and presented her claws, a gesture of negation among the tabaxi.  “The origin of the name is not known to us.  It is an ancient place, a site of great power.  To even speak of it is taboo among our people.  We share this information with you because of our debt, but trust that you will not speak of it beyond these walls.”

“Of course,” Glori said, even as Kalasien asked, “Why is it taboo?”

Wind Runner looked reluctant, but she finally said, “The power that resides there is a thing of shadow.  It is a part of the world, but yet not wholly part of it.  If you seek it, then I suggest that you ask yourselves this: Is this power not better left undisturbed?  What good can come of disturbing it again?”

“Then you know what happened, the last time it was disturbed?” Quellan asked.

Wind Runner flashed her claws again.  “No, not exactly.  Our histories say only that the last coming of your people was a time of great turmoil.  It is possible that these stories are part of the reason for the violence at our first meeting.”

_Or that Sond’s sailors were trigger-happy,_ Bredan thought, but he kept his features neutral as he said, “We are here because we were asked to come.  We had to come here.  There are others who are seeking this power, others that we know wish only evil to come of it.  We have fought these others before.  I know you have little reason to trust us, but I can only ask you to believe me when I say that we are not here for power or for dominion over others.”

Wind Runner nodded once the translation was completed.  “I believe you because you have shown us who you are.”  She leaned forward and placed one hand upon her daughter’s shoulder.  “And because of that, we will show you something.”

A few of the tabaxi elders hissed softly, and Bredan got the impression that the matriarch’s sentiments were not universal among their high council.  But Wind Runner stood and removed her shawl, revealing a metal disk that she wore on a throng around her neck.

“Electrum,” Kosk said, recognizing the material.  It had to be old, maybe as old as the bronze plaque, but unlike it the disk bore no obvious signs of wear or decay.

Bredan’s focus was on the sigil etched into the surface of the metal.  He extended his hand and summoned his sword.

Another stir went through the cats, and Mrrik tensed for a moment, shifting slightly in a protective gesture over Dancing Leaf.  But he relaxed when Bredan released the heavy blade and offered the hilt toward the warrior.  The tabaxi came forward, taking the heavy weapon and showing it to Wind Runner.

The matriarch examined the steel, her eyes drawn to the runes that ran down the length of the blade.  Those runes had first appeared when he had immersed the sword in the font of magic in the Silverpeak Valley, and since then they had reappeared one by one as his connection to the Elderlore Libram had grown stronger.  One of them was the same as the one marked upon the electrum disk.  She directed Mrrik to hold the sword up so that the other elders could see.

“We are forbidden from entering Savek Vor,” she said, “even on behalf of new friends.  But we will show you the way.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 271

The tabaxi village was an odd juxtaposition of traditional structures and three dimensionality, tied together by a complex map of bridges and rope lines, branches bound together or otherwise shaped to form avenues, and in more than one case dangling vines that the inhabitants used to swing from one platform to the next.

It was certainly exotic to the travelers from Voralis, but as the initial newness began to wear off, they could begin to notice patterns in the layout of the place that were familiar to them.  The sailors’ adaptation was made easier in one respect.  The means of travel around the city was not that dissimilar from the rigging they’d had to crawl over on the _Gull_, and they were used to negotiating great heights from their work on the ship.  At first, still terrified by their ordeal with the dragonborn, the sailors huddled in the huts provided for their use by the tabaxi, but as the day went on some of them began to filter out and explore their new surroundings.  Rumor was that the cat-people might offer them sanctuary, a sentiment that was borne out by the polite curiosity of their hosts.  The sailors’ clothes were in a shoddy state, and most of their possessions had been confiscated by their captors, but a small commerce began nevertheless, with the sailors offering what few trinkets they’d been able to conceal for new garments or other necessities.  Perhaps they sensed that they were being given overly generous deals by the tabaxi traders, but it helped all of them to preserve the illusion that they were equals.

The cats visited the cluster of huts that hosted their guests as night descended, bringing leather satchels full of fruit and gourds packed with a nutritious paste made of nuts and insects.  While their leaders went off to parlay with the cat-men the crew enjoyed the feast and continued their trade with the locals.  They lacked a common language, but some of the sailors quickly made connections by demonstrating rope knots and other elements of the sailor’s craft to their bemused hosts.

With both humans and tabaxi coming and going, no one particularly noted the figure that slipped off and crossed to a small hut on an adjoining platform.  From the sagging fronds that formed its roof the place was clearly not currently occupied, but as the shadowy figure ducked through the low opening of its entrance he saw someone waiting for him.  There were no lights on the platform or inside the hut, so he was just a vague outline in the dim glow that penetrated through the gaps in the slumping roof.

“Is the meeting with the elders over already?” the newcomer asked.

“The essential negotiations are concluded,” the other said.  “They’ll probably be up feasting for hours yet.”

“You won’t be missed?”

“I told the dwarf I was feeling ill, but I needn’t have bothered.  They hardly even notice me anymore,” the dark figure said.  “They see only what they expect to see.  You should attend to your role with equal devotion.  All it takes is one slip to someone to awaken suspicion.”

“Yes, yes, your lessons on the way here were quite thorough.  I’ve even learned to wake myself every hour in order to maintain the _Mask of Many Faces_.  But I’m not a bloody machine, nor can I change my actual form like you can.  There were plenty of places where an accidental contact almost gave up the game, especially on the ship.”

“You only need to maintain the disguise for a little while longer.  Once we’ve located the book, we can eliminate the others.”

“Did the cats have some useful information?”

“Perhaps.  They know of an ancient city deeper within the jungle where supposedly the last Syvalian expedition ventured.  Bredan and the others will be setting out for it tomorrow, with a few native guides to show them the way.  Sond and the crew will be staying behind.  You will need to arrange to be included in the expedition.”

“That won’t be easy to set up so quickly.”

“Nevertheless, it must be done.  I have probed a few of the crew and sensed a general discontent.  They fear the dragonborn and some are suspicious of the tabaxi after that first encounter on the beach.  Those sentiments can be exploited, with the proper care.”

“It would be easier to do with your talent.”

“No.  Even this brief meeting is a risk.  There must be no connection perceived between us.”

“What if someone saw you coming out here?”

The figure leaned forward a bit, drawing off his cloak to reveal the features of a tabaxi female.

“Clever.  I’m sure the others would be happy to brand me as some kind of pervert.”

“As long as it keeps them from discovering the truth.  I must get back, just in case one of them thinks to bring me a purgative.  Remember, they leave in the morning.”

“I’m not likely to forget.”  As the other rose and started toward the door he said, “Wait.  You said that we could kill them once we located the book.  Shouldn’t we wait until we get it in our hands?  What if we need them to get past its defenses?”

There was a pause.  “Bredan is the key, but he must not be permitted to get his hands on the book.  The rest of them, they are expendable.  In fact, it would be to our benefit if we could thin out their ranks a bit before we get to this lost city.  I assume you have no difficulties with this plan?”

“No.  No difficulties.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 272

Dawn found the members of the expedition gathered on one of the lower platforms of the tabaxi village, a scant thirty feet above the forest floor below.  Each of them checked and rechecked their gear, including the leather packs provided by their hosts that contained food and gourds of water and strong tea.  Their armor and weapons were starting to show wear, but there was little they could do about that here, as the cat-men had almost no resources for metalworking.  Bredan had experimented with one of the tabaxi spear throwers but ultimately decided that it would take more time than they had to develop any kind of skill with it.  So they sharpened their blades and scrubbed the rust off their armor and made the best of what they had.

They were almost ready to depart when three of the sailors descended to the platform.  Bredan recognized Kavek from the encounter with the crocodiles on the island, but he knew the other two only by name: Malik and Sandros.  The three hesitated for a moment, watching the preparations, before they walked over to Bredan.

“We want to come with you,” Malik said.

“This isn’t a casual walk through the woods that we’re taking,” Kosk said.  “We’ll be gone for weeks, most likely, into wild country.”

“These cats are fine, but the dragon-men won’t give up so easily,” Malik persisted.  “The cats have been their neighbors for years and they weren’t able to deal with them.  Heck, the only reason they helped us is because the dragons had their princess or whatever.”

“The tabaxi have been more than generous,” Quellan said.  “The matriarch promised that you could all stay here as long as you wish.”

“They say that when you’re here,” Sandros interjected.  “Because you can fight them.  But when you’re gone, then we’re just mouths to feed.”

“You’re not making a case for why we would want you with us then,” Kosk said.

“We can fight,” Malik said.  “We can carry our own weight.”

“Does Captain Sond know about this?” Glori asked.

“With all due respect to the captain, she’s no longer in command of us,” Malik said.  “When the _Gull_ ended, we stopped being part of her crew.”

“Again, your flexible loyalties aren’t exactly making a strong argument,” Kosk noted.

“I think we have the right to have a say in what happens to us,” Malik said, bristling at the dwarf.

“Here, at least, you’re safe,” Glori said.

“With all due respect, ma’am, it seems to us that nowhere in Weltarin is safe,” Malik said.  “I’d rather die out there with a weapon in my hand than just sit here eating fruit and waiting.”

“Well said,” Kalasien said.

Kosk turned to Kavek, who’d been hovering in the back of the group during the exchange.  “What about you?  I would have thought you’d have had enough of adventure after that beach back on the island.  Aren’t you worried you’re pushing your luck?”

The sailor looked thoughtful for a moment then shook his head.  “After giant crocodiles, the dragon turtle, a shipwreck, and then the dragon-men, seems like luck is maybe not the right word to use.”

Kosk snorted.  After a moment, the companions all looked to Bredan.  He no longer tried to avoid the responsibility that the others put on him, and did not shrink from their collective stairs.  He regarded the three men for a moment.  “You can come with us,” he said.  “But understand, this is another crew you’re joining.  You’ll follow our orders, and understand that out there, we might not be able to protect you.  You’ll take the same risks as the rest of us.”

The three men swallowed, but Malik nodded and said, “We understand… captain.”

“Captain,” the other two echoed.


----------



## Lazybones

I could have sworn that I'd posted this one already... must be just another side-effect of the advancing years...

* * *

Chapter 273

The day was overcast and muggy as the column set out from the tabaxi settlement.  With the three sailors joining the group they now numbered eleven, not counting their escorts.  Mrrik led the tabaxi contingent, accompanied by three veteran scouts armed with spear-throwers.  Those scouts spread out to shield their flanks and check ahead, but they remained close enough to call out if they spotted an ambush or other danger waiting for them.

Bredan couldn’t tell where they were headed, except that the cats were taking them on a course that led generally west, further inland.  Mrrik—he just couldn’t think of the cat hunter as Clear Eyes—had told them during a conversation facilitated by Quellan’s magic that the lost city was located within a valley surrounded by a range of mountains.  None of the cats had ever entered the site, or even crossed those mountains, but Bredan trusted the matriarch’s promise that her people could take them to a place where there was a navigable route over the peaks.  The Syvalian captain had come this way, after all, but even beyond that Bredan felt something, an innate sense that they were heading in the right direction.  He could not help but wonder if that was a product of his bond with the book, or just self-delusion.

They trudged through the jungle for about an hour, the temperature slowly rising at the day advanced.  Bredan went through several gourds of water as he sweat under his armor.  He already had an annoying, itchy rash across his torso from the sweltering days they’d already spent here, but since taking off his armor was not an option, he just had to bear it.  Quellan had warned them all about keeping their bodies and especially their feet dry, but that was a difficult feat in this place.

The jungle began to thin ahead, and Bredan could see that they were coming up on a broad meadow.  The open expanse was covered in a sea of tall green grass that rippled in the slight breeze.  Bredan was looking forward to that breeze, grateful for the low clouds that concealed the sun, but they were interrupted by the return of one of the tabaxi scouts.  The cat was clearly agitated as it rushed over to Mrrik and reported.

“Looks like trouble,” Glori said.

Quellan came forward and cast his _tongues_ spell.  “What is it?” he asked once the spell had taken effect.

“Dragonborn,” Mrrik reported.  “Over a hundred.  They are arranged in line across the far side of the meadow, under the banner of Natak.”

“Bloody hell!” Malik said once the tabaxi warrior’s words had been translated.  “What do we do, go back?”

“I’d be shocked if they hadn’t already anticipated that,” Rodan said.  Mrrik clearly agreed with him, for he didn’t wait for Quellan to translate before he gestured to two of his scouts.  The two cats shot off into the jungle.

“They knew we’d be here,” Kosk said.

“The shaman,” Glori said.

Quellan nodded.  “That seems likely.”

“Let’s see for ourselves,” Bredan said.

They made their way forward cautiously, staying behind the cover of the thinning brush and the scattered trees that extended to the edge of the meadow.  They crouched down behind a fallen trunk and scanned the area.

It wasn’t hard to see the dragonborn formation.  They were standing in the open, facing the jungle where they were hidden.  Bredan could make out the standard, shifting slightly in the breeze.  He couldn’t tell what it was made of but he could see black scorch marks on the edges of the material.

“What are they doing?” Glori asked.

“Waiting for us, I’d gather,” Xeeta said.  “They’re a little too far for a _fireball_, but I bet that grass could cover my approach.”

“They’re too spread out,” Rodan noted.

One of the cat scouts returned, darting low over the ground like one of his feline ancestors.  Again he reported to Mrrik, letting out a series of low-pitched growls.

“Let me guess,” Kosk said.  “The tiefling was right.”

Quellan nodded.  “There are two groups of them behind us, moving to cut off our retreat.”

“What’s their game?” Bredan asked.  “Why are they just standing there in the open, instead of hitting us with an ambush?”

Once Quellan had repeated his words Mrrik growled an answer.  “He says that it is a ritual challenge,” the cleric said.  “Natak will face our champion in single combat.”

“Even from here I can tell that’s a bad idea,” Xeeta said.  “Look at him, he’s head and shoulders taller than those other red ones, and those are huge.”

“Natak is a dangerous foe,” Mrrik agreed.  “Even without the rage induced by the graa plant, he is a mighty foe.  I have seen him carve mighty warriors in two with a single blow from his black axe.”

“What if we refuse to meet this challenge?” Glori asked.

“Overwhelming force, I’d say,” Kosk said.

“They will attack with all their strength,” Mrrik confirmed.  “Their honor would be satisfied if we rejected the challenge.”

Suddenly a low roar passed through the dragonborn line.  Even across the wide breadth of the meadow it sounded like the rumble of an earthquake.  “Well, I’d say they know we’re here,” Kalasien said.

“I will face Natak,” Bredan said.

“Bredan,” Glori said.  “Think about it.  One of those red monsters almost killed you, and that one’s bigger, tougher, and stronger.  Between Xeeta’s firepower and my spells, maybe we can…”

“No,” Bredan said.  “There are too many of them, and they’re ready for us this time.  The longer we wait, the better the chance that the ones behind us will get into position so they can hit us from both sides.  Don’t worry.  If I die, you can avenge me.”

“That’s not funny,” Xeeta said.  “Even if we agree, what guarantee do we have that they won’t just mob us if you do beat him?”

Quellan spoke quietly to Mrrik.  “He says that they do follow their code of honor, such as it is,” the cleric reported.

“And what happens if our boy loses?” Kosk asked.

Mrrik barked a single syllable.  “Our lives are forfeit,” Quellan said.

“We have no choice, then,” Bredan said.  He stood and started forward into the tall grass.


----------



## carborundum

Good gravy!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 274

Bredan’s companions emerged from the shelter of the forest’s edge and followed him out into the meadow.  Mrrik and his scouts accompanied them.  The sailors were the last, but after a look back at the trail behind them they moved to join the company.

The rumbling coming from the dragonborn ranks ceased, and after a moment Natak started forward, flanked by a cohort of his warriors.  The companions were quick to note that their numbers precisely matched their own.  The ones closest to the chieftain were reds like him, with an assortment of blacks and greens making up the difference.  Some still bore obvious wounds from the fighting back at the dragonborn camp.  A small figure walked in the shadow of the chief.  They did not need Sond to be present to identify that one as the shaman.  The captain had warned them about him, and while they did not know the full extent of his powers, the fact that he could cast the _tongues_ spell was an indication that he was no amateur.

“What are the rules for this thing?” Bredan asked as he walked.

Quellan translated for Mirrik, who responded, “The first one to die loses.”

“I think I can remember that,” Bredan said.

“Have your people fought in many duels with the dragonborn?” Glori asked.

Mrrik growled something quick.

“What did he say?” Xeeta asked when Quellan remained silent.

“He was trying to be diplomatic,” the cleric reported.

“In other words, they’re not stupid enough to agree to them,” Kosk filled in.

The two groups came to a stop about fifty feet from each other.  Up close, they could see the full scale of the imposing dragonborn chief.

“Gods above, he has to be at least nine feet tall,” Sandros said.

“The bigger they are…” Glori began, but she couldn’t finish the comment as Natak took a step forward.  He said something in his own language.  “He offers the challenge,” Quellan said.  “One on one.”

Bredan took a step forward to match him.  “Tell him I will accept on behalf of the people that he attacked without provocation or reason.”

The exchange took just a moment.  “He says that coming here was enough provocation,” Quellan said.  He left out what the creature had promised to do to Bredan.

From the look on his face, Bredan had got the gist of it.  “And if I am victorious, we are permitted to be on our way without further harassment.”

The dragonborn made a sound that might have been laughter, but Quellan said, “He agrees.”

Natak shrugged his broad shoulders and drew off the huge cloak that hung down his back.  As he did so a pair of wings spread into the air, forming an arc some fifteen feet across behind him.

“If he can fly, you’re screwed,” Kosk said.

“I believe they’re vestigial,” Quellan said.  “There’s no way they would support a creature of his size and weight.”

The dragonborn chief turned to his shaman, bending so that the much smaller creature could reach up to his face.

“Remember, they use drugs to enhance their strength and endurance,” Quellan said.

“I remember,” Bredan said.

“When you go to face him, I’ll boost you with a _haste_ spell,” Xeeta said.  “It will only last a minute.”

“I’ll make good use of it.”

Glori strummed her lyre, and Bredan could feel a surge of vitality flow into him as she bolstered him with her own magic.  “It’s not much, but it should let you shrug off a hit or two,” she said.  “But don’t get hit.”

“Okay,” he said.

Quellan turned to Glori.  “Give me the ring I gave you,” he said.  “Back in the Silverpeak.”

She looked at him blankly for a moment then quickly began searching her pockets.  A look of panic briefly flashed across her features before she found it.

Quellan took the unadorned platinum band and gave it to Bredan.  It barely fit on the pinky finger of his off hand.  “This might mess with my grip a bit,” he said.

“It’s worth it,” the cleric said, invoking his _warding bond_ spell.  Bredan shivered as he felt the connection take hold.  “It will allow me to absorb some of the damage that you take in battle.”

Bredan shook his head.  “It could end up killing us both…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Xeeta said.  “Glori can heal him.  You need every advantage you can get.”

“Looks like big boy is ready,” Kosk said.  Natak had stepped back from his shaman, and fresh streaks of the substance they used to enhance their warriors were now visible upon his crest and across his cheeks.  He turned as one of his warriors came up bearing a huge axe.  The blade was made of a material that was pure black.

“What is that?” Glori asked.

Quellan forwarded the question to Mrrik.  “He says it’s fire-mineral,” the cleric said.  “Volcanic obsidian, maybe.”

“That stuff can get bloody sharp,” Kosk said.

“Be careful,” Glori said.

“We’ve got your back,” Xeeta said as Bredan stepped forward.  He had barely heard the last bit of their exchange as his focus had sharpened.  He’d already marked the axe, the drug-marks, and the way his opponent moved.  Every inch of Natak’s body appeared to be covered in corded muscle.  He wore no armor, but Bredan already knew that the creatures’ scaled hides were as tough as old leather.  This foe was deadlier than any he’d faced before.  He pushed that thought aside as well.  Doubts could only hurt him at this point.

Natak betrayed no surprise when Bredan summoned his sword.  The monstrous features of the dragonborn made it difficult to gauge their emotions, but the young warrior sensed no fear, no battle-rage, just an intensity that bored into him like augers.  As he stared up at the approaching creature, he could feel the fear that skittered at the edges of the calm he’d gathered around him.  If he gave way to it, even for an instant, the fight would be over before it began.

As he lifted the sword the weak light of the day flashed on the runes inscribed upon the blade.  He could feel the power there, power that echoed in the core of him.  Once he had feared that power, fled from it, but now he embraced it, letting it into him.  He could feel something happening as he continued to walk forward, could hear the surprised chatter of his friends behind him, but he ignored everything except the approaching foe.

When they came to a halt, facing each other across twenty paces of flowing grass, Bredan was surprised to find himself looking _down_ at Natak.  He blinked in surprise; somehow the magic of the book had caused him to grow to twice his size, until he was larger than even the huge dragonborn chief!  Even his sword had become larger, the bright steel of the blade almost as long as the haft of his enemy’s axe.

Bredan felt another surge of power as Xeeta’s _haste_ spell took hold.  But a moment later he felt something else, a feeling of power tearing at his awareness.  Instinctively he realized that someone was trying to strip his various protections.  He sought out the dragonborn shaman and found him among the ranks of the red warriors.  A slightly raised hand was the only indication that he was doing anything, but Bredan knew it was him who was behind the assault.

There was nothing he could do to stop him.  But even as he felt the layered spells begin to unravel the _dispel_ suddenly came apart.  The attack ended, and the shaman slumped back, hissing in defeat.

If Natak was discomfited by the failed effort he didn’t show it.  He just stood there, his head slightly lowered, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in deep breaths.  Bredan could imagine the drug pulsing through the dragonborn’s system, inuring him to pain and swelling his strength beyond the already impressive levels that his natural gifts gave him.

Bredan lifted his sword.  “I am ready…”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish, as Natak abruptly leapt forward to the attack.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 275

Natak moved with such unexpected speed that the fight was almost over before it began.

The dragonborn’s wings pulsed as he leapt forward.  He might not have been capable of flight, but it was enough to carry him across the twenty paces that separated the two combatants in the blink of an eye.  Even with Xeeta’s _haste_ spell augmenting his resources, Bredan only just barely dodged the sweep of the deadly obsidian axe.  It clipped his shoulder and knocked one of the plates of the dwarf-forged mail he wore flying, slicing through the mail links underneath as if they had been made of string.  The edge just barely grazed his skin, but he could feel a trickle of blood start down the arm as he desperately tried to recover.

But Natak gave him no respite.  Even as the huge dragonborn landed he spun, transferring his momentum to a heavy backswing.  Bredan deflected the blade with his sword, but the force of the impact drove him back a step and nearly knocked the weapon from his grasp.  A third swing came at his head with almost impossible swiftness, but he ducked under it and swept his own sword around in a rapid counter.  Augmented by the magic flowing through his body, the swing should have connected, but it caught only empty air.  Bredan recovered and looked up to see that the dragonborn had fallen back a step and was now watching him with an intense expression.

It was then that Bredan realized that his assumption that his foe would be in a berserk frenzy from the shaman’s drugs was mistaken.  Natak might have been augmented, but he was in complete control.

The dragonborn waited only long enough for his enemy to come to that realization before he attacked again.

This time Bredan didn’t try to parry, but as the blade of the axe swept toward him he summoned a _shield_ at the last instant that deflected it high.  But Natak kept rushing forward in the wake of the miss, sweeping the long haft of the axe around and driving it under his defense into his belly.  Even through the layered protections of his armor Bredan had all of the wind blasted from his body.  He staggered back, instinct alone causing him to bring the _shield_ around in time to meet the follow-up that would have taken his head off his shoulders had it connected.

In desperation, Bredan went on the attack.  His opponent lacked armor, which should have given the human an advantage, but Natak smoothly parried the first swing, turning it without harming the wooden shaft of his weapon.  Bredan managed to catch the dragonborn on the side with his follow-through as he drew back, but the blow lacked strength and he only managed to tear a shallow cut in Natak’s thick hide.

When the pair separated again, Natak met his eyes and smiled.

Bredan felt a sudden calm came over him.  He lifted his sword, his boosted strength allowing him to lift the now-huge weapon, and fell into the simple fighting stance that his uncle had drilled into him over so many hours in the yard behind his smithy.

When Natak rushed at him again, he was ready.  Their blades swept through the air, sometimes seeming to blur together as the combatants exchanged blows.  Bredan took another glancing hit that drew blood, but it didn’t seem to cut as deep as it could have.  He realized that it was the effects of Quellan’s spell, absorbing a share of the damage he was taking.  He wished he could look over to make sure the cleric was all right, but he could not afford to let his attention shift from his foe for even an instant.

He managed to get another hit in, slashing the dragonborn on the forearm on his primary hand.  Natak merely hissed and pulled back a step to adjust his grip on his weapon.  Expecting another quick assault, Bredan fell back into his stance once more.

But this time the dragonborn did not charge.  Bredan realized too late what he was doing, too late to evade the gout of fire that poured from the creature’s huge jaws and engulfed him.

Again Bredan devolved to instinct, bringing the hilt of his sword up, presenting the weapon point-down toward his foe.  He could feel the magic surging at his call.  The flames still hurt, but not terribly.  As they died, he stepped forward and lifted his sword again.  Flames clung to the blade as he swept it into his enemy’s body.  This time Natak was caught off guard, and the stroke opened a deep gash just above his left hip.  Bredan tried to follow with a thrust toward his face, but the dragonborn recovered swiftly and deflected it with his axe.

Now it was Natak’s turn to fall back.  Bredan was not entirely surprised to see the flow of blood from the dragonborn’s wound quickly ease and then cease completely.  Just like his own friends were boosting him, the shaman was aiding his champion.  Apparently, the creatures’ code of honor did not preclude such aid.  It was probably for the best; without Xeeta’s spell and Quellan’s bond Bredan thought the chief might have already killed him.

Natak launched another attack, and Bredan met it with another _shield_.  This time he was expecting the follow-up, and while he took another hard hit across the body he got his foe off-balance enough to score another deep cut across his opponent’s chest.  As Natak shifted to bring his axe around Bredan pulled his sword up low and tore it across his foe’s leg, opening yet another gash.  The dragonborn was bleeding from several wounds now, too many for the shaman to counter.

But as Bredan prepared for his foe’s next attack, his muscles suddenly froze.  He couldn’t move.  His sword was halfway up into a defensive stance, useless against the attack that Natak was already launching.

The axe struck Bredan in the chest.  The dwarf-forged steel held, but the impact of the blow knocked him off his feet.  He flew back several paces and landed in the grass, trampling down a broad swath of it.

Twenty feet away, a stir went through Bredan’s companions.  Weapons shifted, echoed by a similar motion on the far side of the circle.  “Let me know when to start blasting,” Xeeta said, but Quellan held up a hand.  “Wait,” he said to all of them, then focused his attention on the combat.

Bredan could only stare up as the hulking figure of his foe stepped into view.  Natak had his axe up but hesitated; maybe his code of honor made him reluctant to strike down a helpless foe, at least while all of his people were watching.  But finally he lifted the weapon above his head.  Bredan focused his mind, tried to call upon the power that had aided him before, but he couldn’t shake off the shaman’s spell.

A collective hush spread through both sides watching the fight, but the killing strike didn’t come.  The axe hung in mid-air.  Natak’s entire body tensed, and Bredan realized that Quellan must have hit the chief with the same magic that the shaman had used on him.

Bredan took advantage of the delay, throwing the full force of his will against the spell.  For a moment he thought that his muscles might tear themselves apart from the effort, but then he felt it come apart and he was free.  He rolled back to his feet, stumbling a bit until he got full control of his legs again.  He turned back to his foe, undecided about whether he should take advantage, but he decision was unnecessary.  Natak too had recovered, and he was shaking out his limbs as he circled to the side.  The dragonborn looked over toward his shaman and made a slashing gesture with one hand, but Bredan couldn’t tell if he was telling him to desist or calling for more aid.

Bredan knew that he was running out of time.  He could only call upon his magic so many times, and Xeeta’s spell would only last a few more seconds at best.  But beyond that was his own dwindling endurance.  He was in good shape, his training augmented by the hard work he’d put his body to since they’d arrived in Weltarin, but he already knew that the dragonborn had a remarkable stamina.  He had no idea how long the drugs that boosted their strength and constitution lasted, but he guessed it would be longer than his own muscles would take him.

He went back into his simple stance just as Natak launched another attack.  He expected yet another surprise, and so he wasn’t caught entirely off guard when the two blades met in another violent parry and then his foe charged into him.  Neither could use their weapons effectively in such close quarters, so Bredan let his sword go and grabbed hold of the axe.  The dragonborn’s strength was overpowering, but Bredan had the advantage of size and position.  Natak lunged forward, trying to knock his foe off balance, but Bredan dug his feet in and held his ground.  The chief snapped his jaws around the warrior’s forearm, trying to shatter his grip and pull the axe free, but Bredan just gritted his teeth and held on.  Natak thrust his other hand up, driving his claws toward his opponent’s face, but Bredan snapped his head forward and caught the attack with the brow of his helmet.

For a moment the two foes held each other in a deadly embrace.  Then Natak tried one last gambit.  The dragonborn spread its wings and leapt up, trying to free himself and attack his foe from above.  Bredan held onto the axe, but then Natak drove one clawed foot into his chest, using the strength of his legs to pull away.  The chief let out a roar of triumph as he sprang a good ten feet into the air, the axe coming up to strike.  But when he looked down, he realized that he’d been tricked.  Bredan’s sword was in his hands again and already swinging up to meet his foe as he started to descend.  Natak tried to beat his wings in an attempt to evade, but it was too late.  The sword struck him on the right side where his leg met his body.  The impact shattered his hip and carved deep into his gut.  The force of the blow swung the crippled dragonborn around.  As he fell Bredan struck again, biting into his right arm and knocking the axe from his grasp.

A dismal sound passed through the gathered dragonborn as Natak fell to the ground.  It faded into a pregnant hush as Bredan stepped forward over his fallen foe.

The _enlarge_ spell had faded, restoring him to his normal size, but that only made the sight of the battered human standing over the dying dragonborn that much more impressive.  Natak laughed as he looked up at his victorious opponent.  Blood gurgled from his jaws as he turned his head, presenting his throat.  The point of the sword hung over the chieftain as he waited for Bredan to finish it.

For a moment, it looked as though he would do it.  A tense quiet hung over the meadow that had been transformed into a bloody battlefield.  The sword waited only for a twitch of a hand for the killing thrust.  But then Bredan drew back.  Without taking his eyes off his foe, he took several steps back.  He paused only to recover the huge axe and then made his way back to his companions.

Glori was the first to meet him.  “Are you okay?” she asked, pouring a _cure wounds_ spell into him.

“I’ve been better.  Quellan, are you all right?”  The cleric looked as though he was having some trouble standing.  Blood had seeped out from his armor at all the places where Bredan had been struck by the chief’s axe.

“I’m all right,” Quellan said.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Kosk reminded them.  Bredan turned to look at the dragonborn, both the cohort that had accompanied the chief to the duel and the dozens more still standing in a row along the far edge of the meadow.

“Maybe you broke some stupid rule by not killing him,” Xeeta pointed out.  As Glori escorted Bredan back into their ranks she stepped protectively in front of him, her rod cradled too-casually in the crook of her arm.

“Nobody do anything aggressive,” Bredan said.  “It’s their move.”

The companions watched as Natak slowly pulled himself to his feet.  It was clear that it took a herculean effort just to get that far.  Blood had poured down over the dragonborn’s legs, and trails of it had coursed from the sides of his jaws to stain his neck and chest.  With his hip shattered he could only walk with an awkward, shambling gait that had to be inflicting agony with each step.

“If he gets to the shaman we could have another fight on our hands,” Kosk warned.

“He won’t,” Xeeta said.

But Natak came to a stop a good five or six paces from his allies.  With a slow effort accompanied by wheezing huffs he drew himself upright.  The six largest of the red berserker warriors stepped forward to form a circle around him.

Then, without any warning, all six leapt upon their leader and began tearing him to pieces.  They did not use weapons, just their claws and teeth.  Natak made no move to resist, and in fact seemed to be trying to stay upright until the last possible instant.  Barely fifteen seconds passed before it was over.  There was little left when the reds drew back and returned to their positions.

“Grim,” Glori said.

“It’s a grim world, here,” Kosk noted.

The dragonborn of the advance party didn’t even look at the companions as they retreated back to their fellows.  One of them raised a horn and blew several long notes.  Then they turned and made their way back into the jungle.  They were still visible when a cohort of several dozen more appeared along the near side of the meadow and hurried to join their comrades.

The adventurers watched until they were all out of sight.  “Think that’s the last we’ll see of them?” Glori asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bredan said.  “They know what will happen if they challenge us again.”

“Do you need more healing?” Glori asked.

“I’m fine for now,” Bredan said, and in fact it looked as though he’d gotten his second wind.  “Help Quellan, but quickly.  I don’t want to stay here another minute longer than necessary.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 276

Kosk pulled himself a bit further up on the thick trunk of the fallen tree and peered through the scattered undergrowth between them and the clearing.  “I don’t see anything,” the dwarf said.  He looked over at Bredan and Glori, who both shrugged.

Mrrik couldn’t understand their words, but the tabaxi accurately sensed their doubt.  He reached back and tore a segment of broken branch off of the dead tree.  The cat tossed it into the clearing, where it landed in the middle of the open space.

Instantly the bushes to either side of the open space came alive with movement.  Tendrils of what looked like creeping vines lunged out and seized hold of the branch.  They pulled on it hard enough to snap the wood in two, pulling both pieces into the undergrowth.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to go around,” Kosk said.

As they retraced their steps to where the others waited Bredan watched the sleek figure of the tabaxi hunter.  He was grateful that Mrrik and his scouts were with them.  This was only the latest of a number of hazards that the tabaxi had helped them evade since they’d left the meadow and the fallen dragonborn chief behind them that morning.  Their fears about the dangers of the jungle had been confirmed several times over, and Bredan could not help but think about what they would face once their guides left them and they made their way into the forbidden valley that was their destination.

Mrrik escorted them through the jungle, the tabaxi like a silent ghost in contrast to the rest of them.  Bredan spotted a green and yellow snake dangling from a tree branch off to their left.  The creature was as thick around as his leg, but since the cats did not seem worried he ignored it and kept his attention on the jungle around them.  He heard one of the sailors exclaim and point at the thing a few moments later.  He could hear Quellan reassuring them, then a question about whether the thing might be edible.  That drew a tired smile from Bredan.

Fortunately, the detour was brief, and Mrrik gestured them back onto the trail that they’d been following for most of that afternoon.  It wasn’t much of a path, the forest pressing up around them on both sides, often obscuring the route until they were literally on top of it.  Without the tabaxi they would have been lost immediately.  Rodan was a good tracker, but this place was alien compared to anything any of them had experienced before.

They passed a tree bearing fruit, juicy-looking red globes that dangled invitingly close to the trail.  One of the sailors reached for one, only to be cautioned by a growl from one of Mrrik’s scouts.  The two groups were learning to understand each other better, saving Quellan’s spells for circumstances when spoken communication was absolutely necessary.  Mrrik saw the exchange and made a gesture with his claws at his throat that was unmistakable.

“The rules here seem simple,” Xeeta said to Bredan as they continued forward.  “If it looks good, it will probably kill you.  Also, if it looks dangerous, it will also probably kill you.  Basically, everything will probably kill you.”

“The tabaxi haven’t tried to kill us,” Quellan pointed out.  “Well, not after that first encounter.  But that was a misunderstanding.”

The cleric was a little out of breath.  Bredan could empathize; he was drenched in sweat under his armor.  Fortunately the cats had no difficulty finding fresh water, so dehydration wasn’t a concern, but carrying around sixty pounds of metal, in addition to his other gear, was grueling in this environment.  But removing it was not an option, so he gritted his teeth and soldiered on.

A squall caught up to them a bit later, dumping a torrent of rain onto them before disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.  The rain was refreshing, but the relief was short-lived; it quickly grew as hot as it had been before, and the added moisture made the air so muggy that Bredan thought he could almost drink it.  The tabaxi merely shook out their furred bodies and kept on, forcing the others to do the same.

Night came on them so quickly that Bredan almost didn’t notice, or maybe it was the exhaustion from the long trek.  He blinked as he realized that the column had stopped, then looked around to see that the surrounding jungle was already deep in shadow.  Mrrik directed them a short distance off the trail, to a rocky hollow edged by a shallow pool of clear water.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Sandros said.  He started toward the pool, but hesitated and looked at Mrrik.  “It’s not bloody poisonous, is it?”

The cat barked a laugh then made a permissive gesture.  Several others followed the sailor over to the pool, where they drank deeply before splashing the water on their faces.

“Hey, are you okay?” Glori asked.

Bredan blinked; he’d sort of drifted off for a moment.  “Yeah.  Just tired.”

“Not surprising, given all that metal you’re lugging around.  And the fact that you got your ass kicked this morning.”

“You should see the other guy,” Bredan said.

“Yeah.  Listen, you should take off the armor, wash up, relax a bit.”

Bredan started to respond that it was still dangerous, but the thought of remaining in his sweat-soaked clothes became suddenly intolerable.  “That sounds like a good idea.”

They began setting up camp.  Quellan cast his _tongues_ spell again and began talking with Mrrik about what lay ahead.  The tabaxi hunter didn’t have any new information to add about the valley, but he told them that they should reach the mountains that rimmed it by tomorrow evening, if they were able to maintain the same grueling pace.

Malik and Kavek began gathering wood for a fire, but Mrrik warned them that the scent of smoke carried too far in the jungle.  Even after the sun set it remained hot enough that they didn’t need to the fire for warmth, but the looks on the faces of the tired travelers said they missed the reassurance that a glowing campfire would have offered.

“Maybe we can have a fire in the morning,” Quellan said.  “We need to make sure our clothes are dry before we set out again.”

“I don’t think I have a single piece of clothing left that is even close to dry,” Glori complained as she unlimbered her pack and stretched her back.

Bredan made his way back from the pool, carrying his armor, while the others began sharing out food from the supplies that the tabaxi had prepared for them.  Once again it was fruit and paste wrapped in leaves, the former juicy and sweet, the latter blank but filling.

Malik made a face as he picked a bit of shell out of his paste.  “Ugh, there’s a bug in this,” he said.

“I think it’s mostly bugs, actually,” Rodan said, as he loudly crunched into a bite of the stuff.

“Gah,” Malik said, putting his leaf down on a rock.

“Insects actually can be quite nutritious,” Quellan said.  “Lots of protein.”

“You can have mine,” the sailor said.

“Eat it or don’t, but we’re going to be keeping the same pace tomorrow,” Kosk said.  “If you can’t keep up, we won’t be slowing down for you.”

Malik shook his head, but finally reached for the paste again with obvious reluctance.

“Do you eat meat?” Glori asked Malik.

The tabaxi listened as Quellan repeated her question, then growled a response.  “They do eat meat while on the hunt,” the cleric explained.  “But at the moment their primary goal is to get us to the valley and get back to their village as quickly as possible.”

“Are you afraid that the dragonborn won’t honor Natak’s pledge?” Bredan asked.  “What will happen with them now?”

“There will be a new leader,” Mrrik replied.  “He will need to prove himself.  There will likely be raids.”

“So nothing’s changed, then?” Xeeta asked.

The tabaxi considered.  “The defeat of Natak was significant,” he said.  “He was a mighty foe, and none of his possible successors will be as much of a threat.  And the dragonborn may be hesitant to attack us again, especially while your people remain with us.”

“The rest of our crew aren’t warriors,” Sandros pointed out.

“Don’t underestimate Captain Sond and her magic,” Glori said.

“We appreciate all that you have done for us,” Quellan said.

“You brought our lost ones back to us,” Mrrik replied.

They consumed their meal quickly; they were all too tired for much idle chatter.  As they were finishing one of the cats began yowling, a guttural sound that rose to a high-pitched screech.  The others joined in, with Mrrik finally adding his voice to the din.

“Gods, that’s an awful racket!” Malik said, covering his ears.

“Show some respect,” Rodan said, but he clearly didn’t enjoy the sound either.

“Does it mean anything?” Glori asked Quellan.

The cleric shook his head.  “It may be some kind of ritual,” he said.

“Or maybe it’s what passes for music among them,” Glori said with a smile.

The companions waited until the tabaxi finished their “song.”  “What was that?” Bredan asked.

“We bid the day farewell,” Mrrik said.  “And thank the spirits of the sky and land for their generosity this day.”

“If today was generous, I don’t want to see what it’s like when they’re being stingy,” Kosk said.

“Why don’t you play something for us, Glori?” Bredan suggested.

The bard touched her lyre.  “We’re all tired…”

“I think we could all use a lift,” the warrior said.

Glori looked at Quellan, who nodded.  She took out the instrument and began to play a soft melody that filled the hollow.  The cats watched her, entranced as she strummed an increasingly intricate lattice of notes that somehow evoked more peaceful times and the camaraderie of old friends gathered around a hearth.

Xeeta came over and sat down next to Bredan.  “You seem melancholy,” she said quietly.

“I feel like I’m supposed to be here,” he said.  “But I’m not sure I’m going to like what we’re going to find in the coming days.”

“All we can do is live each day,” she said.

“You’re all here because of me,” he said.

The sorcerer poked him in the side.  “It is arrogance to bear the weight of others’ choices,” she said.  “We are here because we care for you, Bredan.  We will support you, whatever waits for us in Savek Vor.”

“Thank you,” Bredan said.

The music came to an end.  The companions applauded, while the cats made hissing sounds of appreciation.  Mrrik stood and faced them.  “Sleep,” he said.  “You need not fear the jungle tonight; we will keep watch over your rest.  We have a long march ahead of us tomorrow if we wish to reach the base of the peaks that ward the sacred valley by nightfall.”

With that announcement the tabaxi rose and disappeared into the surrounding jungle, leaving the adventurers to unfold their bedrolls and seek comfortable spots around the hollow to take their rest.  The ground was rocky and uncomfortable, and the jungle a looming presence that filled the night with unidentified sounds, but within just a few minutes all of them were in the deep sleep of the physically and emotionally spent.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 277

The next day the journey became even more difficult, as the terrain grew more rugged and the trail became even more of a will-o-wisp.  The company trudged through densely-overgrown ravines, clambered over steep ridges, and forded stagnant pools that were thick with clinging muck.  They didn’t encounter any large predators or other dangerous creatures, but that didn’t mean that the day was without hazards.  At one point a swarm of what had to be a thousand beetles, each a foot long, erupted from the shell of a rotten tree along their path.  The things had not attacked, but Bredan experienced a vivid flashback to their desperate fight at the abandoned mine in the Silverpeak Valley.  That had been when he’d first discovered his budding magical skills, he recalled.  It seemed now like that had been years ago rather than just a few months.

To Bredan it felt like they were barely crawling over the landscape, but in those periodic intervals where they gained a ridge or the jungle parted enough to permit a view of the terrain ahead he could see a gray line of peaks in the distance, larger by far than any of the rises they’d navigated thus far.  Those mountains grew steadily closer as the day wore on, until finally they loomed over them as the light began to fade.  The jungle began to thin out as the ground became rocky and began to rise.  The companions, already exhausted, slowed even further, but Mrrik drove them on, growling at them when his gestures failed to stir them.

“I think… we must be getting close… to where we’re going to camp,” Glori huffed as they struggled up a difficult slope.

“Let’s hope so,” Quellan said.  “I don’t think we could manage another mile.  But Mrrik said there are caves that offer good shelter along the foot of the mountains.”

“With our luck, there’s probably a dragon living there,” Xeeta said.

“Don’t tempt fate,” Kosk muttered.

They reached the top of the rise and tromped through a final thin fringe of struggling trees to see an almost sheer cliff ahead of them.  The exhausted companions stared up at it in dismay, but Mrrik was already gesturing them to the left, where a deep cleft in the stone appeared to offer an easier route forward.  A low sound reached their ears, a soft whistling that sounded haunting and sepulchral.

Darkness swallowed them up as they made their way into the fissure.  The route was narrow at first, the surrounding cliffs seeming to press in upon them, but within about fifty feet they drew back and they found themselves in a broad canyon.  The interior of the canyon was a broad bowl with walls that sloped up gradually into they approached vertical near the summit, about forty feet up.  The cliffs were pocked with dozens of caves.  Most of them were just shallow gouges in the rock, but there were several that looked as though they might be more substantial.  They could just make out another cleft back in the rear of the canyon, where the ground sloped steeply upward into deep shadows.  The source of the sound they’d heard earlier was here as well, the whistling coming from some of the gaps in the walls when the evening breeze flowed through them.

Mrrik stopped, and turned to Quellan.  The tabaxi waited while the cleric cast his _tongues_ spell again.  “These are the Whistling Caves,” the hunter said.  “We go no further.”

“We thank you for showing us the way,” the cleric said.

“That crack up there leads to the route over the mountains?” Bredan asked.

Mrrik barked assent.  Quellan said, “He says that there is a pass, steep but manageable.  The ancient city can be seen from the summit.”

Kosk asked, “How does he know, if his people have never been up there?”

Quellan didn’t translate his words, and instead said, “The tabaxi have proven themselves worthy of our trust.”

Mrrik turned back toward the other scouts, who had waited back at the entrance to the canyon, but Bredan quickly said, “Wait, you’re just leaving?”

The cat hunter growled a quick reply without stopping.  The other cats fell in around him as he disappeared back into the crevice that led out of the canyon.

“They’re not much for elaborate farewells,” Rodan said.

“I would have thought they would at least have spent the night,” Glori said.  “They aren’t carrying as much stuff as we are, but they have to be tired, especially after they kept watch all last night.”

“I think it challenged their taboos to even come this far,” Quellan explained.

“This place certainly feels haunted,” Xeeta said, as a particularly strong gust sounded a mournful cry through the place.  The canyon walls caused the sounds to echo weirdly, adding to the effect.

“I hope that not going to continue all night,” Malik said, shuddering.

“There could be a bloody orchestra playing, and it wouldn’t stop me from falling asleep,” Glori said.

“Come on, let’s set up camp,” Quellan suggested.

They were all spent, but hunger and wariness prodded them as they scouted out the canyon.  None of the caves were large enough to accommodate the entire group, but there were several that were big enough for offer shelter for at least a few people.  The adventurers spread out and claimed them.  After a brief discussion they gathered some wood from the edge of the jungle and made a fire in a natural depression close to a few of the larger caves.  They were alert to the risks that Mrrik had cited, but they all desperately needed some light and warmth, reassurance against what they had seen and the still-nebulous threats that waited for them ahead.

They had traveled together long enough that they knew their roles, and there was little idle chatter as they set up camp.  The constant whistling from the caves made conversation difficult, in any event.  Quellan brewed them some hot tea from the herbs that the tabaxi had provided, while Kosk began preparing griddle cakes from the last of the ground meal left from the salvaged stores of the _Golden Gull_.  The companions wrung out sweat-soaked clothes and set them on rocks next to the fire to dry out.

“So what do you think we’ll find, on the other side of them peaks?” Malik finally asked.  The sailor was crouched almost on the very lip of the firepit, the gusts from the wind causing the flames to dance and shadows to drift across his features.

“We’re not certain,” Glori said.  “The tabaxi weren’t able to tell us all that much about the ruined city.  The place is taboo to them.  We can only assume it’s dangerous.”

“But you do know enough about it to decide that’s where you need to go,” Sandros persisted.  “You’re going there for a reason.”  He looked briefly across the fire at Kavek, who was poking the flames with a stick.  “We heard about the ruined fort that you found along the coast,” the sailor continued.

The companions shared a long look, clearly weighing how much to share, and their promise to the tabaxi matriarch.  Finally, Bredan said, “We’re seeking a very old artifact.  That’s why we came to Weltarin.  We believe it is located in this ancient city.”

“Where?” Malik asked.

“We don’t know,” Glori said.  “Is it hidden?  Maybe.  Guarded?  Maybe.  Will there be deadly traps, powerful creatures, magical entities summoned to keep us from finding it?  Who knows?”

“That all sounds pretty terrifying,” Sandros said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bredan said.  “We have to go.  The artifact is not just a piece of historical lore.  It holds great power, power that others are seeking.  We have to find it.”

As he spoke, he too stared into the fire with an intensity that had the sailors—and a few of the warrior’s companions—casting glances at each other around the circle.  “So, ah, what happens when we find it?” Malik finally asked.  “Then what?”

“Then we bring it back to the coast, build a ship, head to Fort Promise, and from there find passage back to Voralis,” Kosk said.

Malik snorted.  “You make it sound so simple.”

“Well, he didn’t mention the things that will try to kill us at each step of the way, but yeah,” Glori said.

“Well,” Malik said.  “Thank you for telling us what we’re in for, anyway.”

“We tried to dissuade you, back at the tabaxi city,” Rodan reminded them.

“Yeah,” Sandros said, in such a way that suggested he might be reconsidering his decision.  He looked over at Kavek again, but the other sailor was still focused on the campfire.  His eyes briefly flicked up at Bredan, his face silhouetted by the crackling flames.

“We should all get some rest,” Quellan said.  “We may not find a place this protected again.”

Kalasien stood.  “I suggest we let the spellcasters get an uninterrupted night’s sleep,” he said.  “As the cleric said, we have good shelter here, and plenty of people to keep an eye out.  Perhaps four shifts of two… Kosk and Sandros, Rodan and Malik, Elias and myself, and then Bredan and Kavek.”

“I’ll not turn down that offer,” Xeeta said.  “This jungle is a miserable place through which to travel.”

“It’s even harder for Bredan, in his heavy armor,” Glori pointed out.  “And he had to fight a battle this morning.”

“I’m so used to getting my ass kicked, I hardly notice it anymore,” Bredan said.  When Glori opened her mouth to protest he forestalled her with a raised hand.  “It’s fine, I can stand my watch.  Better go grab a cave before the good ones are all taken.”

She held his eyes for a moment before she nodded in assent.  She walked over and took Quellan by the hand.  The half-orc couldn’t blush, but he looked slightly embarrassed as she led him toward one of the larger caves along the rise behind the camp.  Those not assigned to the first watch began to gather their things and do the same.  There were enough caves that most of them could have enough room to lay down their bedrolls and have at least a small modicum of privacy.

Xeeta came over to Bredan, who was watching Glori and Quellan as they disappeared into their chosen cave.  “No one would comment if you sought out Rodan,” she said.

“I have too much on my mind to think about that right now,” he said.

“Some might say that times like these are exactly when one should think about such things,” she said, but she didn’t press him, folding her cloak around her as she headed off toward one of the unclaimed caves.

Bredan stood there a while longer, watching the fire.  Then he picked up his pack and headed for one of the vacant caves.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 278

The wind continued to blow deep into the jungle night, the shifting gusts causing hollow moans to sound from the caves within the canyon.  Wisps of cloud drifted across the night sky, obscuring the stars and the thin slice of moon that hung low in the sky.

The constant sounds and the lack of light made it difficult to keep watch, but Elias was a trained soldier, used to tackling challenging tasks without complaint.  Not that he was happy about it.  Deep inside, where none of the others could see, he had profound concerns about this mission that had already claimed the lives of two of his comrades.  He did not want to join them, falling in this gods-forsaken place a world away from his homeland.

He rose and took a dozen steps, choosing a new spot that offered him a slightly different vantage of the camp.  He was wary of the cliff edge; the descent was steep enough that he would escape a fall with only broken bones if he was lucky.  And luck seemed to be a rare commodity in this new land.

From his new position he could see a bit more of the canyon, though all he could make out in the near-darkness was vague shadows.  The fire had completely died out, leaving the caves where the others slept just black slits against the only slightly lighter gray of the canyon walls.  He could not see Kalasien, but that was not unexpected; the man was hard to see even in the light of the day.

The thought of his superior awoke a fresh stir of disquiet.  Elias had spent his life following orders without challenge, but the Arreshian agent had been distant and odd of late.  It was probably just this place.  It had an effect on all of them, an effect that got only more pronounced as they pushed deeper into the interior of this rotten continent.  Strong leadership would have been reassuring at a time like this, but Elias would do his duty even in its absence.

He started to turn away, but caught a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye.  Reaching for his sword, he leaned forward—respecting that treacherous edge—to get a better look.

The figure was little more than a shadow, but somehow Elias thought it wasn’t Kalasien.  Something off in the way he moved—assuming it was a he.  Whoever it was, they were definitely trying to sneak out of the camp undetected.  Elias watched as the shadow made its way up into the cleft that ascended at the rear of the canyon before it disappeared from his view.

He considered for a moment.  He scanned the canyon again but saw no sign of Kalasien.  He could have shouted an alarm to wake those in the camp, but the figure could have been departing for any number of valid reasons, down to seeking a little privacy for a nature break.  That would have been stupid but not dangerous, not to the group as a whole, anyway.

Elias made his way along the cliffs toward the cleft.  He knew the way; that was how he had gotten up here in the first place.  Kalasien had suggested it as a good vantage when they’d taken up their shift about an hour ago.  The route was mostly bare rock, with an occasional struggling bush where some soil had managed to find a home in a crevice.  Elias had no difficulty even in the poor light.

He went about fifty yards before came to a spot that offered a good view of the cleft.  He saw no sign of the mysterious figure at first, but then, as he started to turn back, he saw a form standing next to the gap that led further up into the range.  That was the beginnings of the pass that Mrrik had told them about, the route they would be taking once they set out in the morning.

Wary, Elias drew his sword.  He started forward, but the figure did not react.  In the darkness it was impossible to tell if the other was even facing toward him.  Elias considered hissing a greeting, but his suspicions kept him silent.  His boots made almost no sound as he glided forward over the bare stone.

They were only about ten paces apart when the figure suddenly took a step forward, out of the shadow of the gap into the faint starlight.  He was wearing a heavy cloak but the hood was down, and there was just enough light for Elias to identify him.

“Kavek!” he hissed.  “What are you doing here?”

“I am sorry,” the sailor said.  “You were a loyal soldier, but I’m afraid you have something that we need.”

Elias tensed, but all he heard was the faintest footstep before someone was on him from behind.  The soldier was a strong man, and competent, but his opponent was both fast and powerful.  One arm snapped around his throat, almost pulling him off his feet, while the other pinned his wrist, keeping his sword immobile.  Elias tried to chop back with his other hand, tried to drive a boot into his foe’s knee, but he might as well have been trying to knock down a tree for all the effect his desperate blows had.  The grip around his neck tightened until he could hear the bones inside grinding together.  He made a last effort to throw his sword down, to make a clatter that might warn the camp, but Kavek caught the weapon before it could hit the stones.

“Your watch is ended,” he said to Elias as the darkness enveloped him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 279

The wind was, if anything, stronger further up into the mountain pass, the gusts screaming as they tore through the narrow space between the steep stone walls.

Kurok knelt in a small hollow just off one of the many twists and turns in the ascent.  The loud noises of the wind were a constant here, but the sheer sides of the hollow kept most of its force from reaching him as he inscribed wet marks on the rocks from a dark vial.  Together the marks made the outlines of a diagram, though it was all but invisible in the almost perfect darkness.

Once he was finished the hobgoblin knelt alongside the pattern and gathered himself.  He’d let his disguise lapse for the moment.  It was exhausting, keeping the _Mask of Many Faces_ in place all this time.  He’d learned to sleep in snatches, and had even begun to dream in the common tongue of the three kingdoms, the familiar cadences of his native language fading into vague memory.  But Drekkath’s strict tutelage had gotten them this far.

He looked up, but even his darksight didn’t reveal anything more than an outline standing in the shadow of the cliffs.  The doppelganger had done what was necessary, but it hadn’t shown any inclination to participate in the ritual other than as an observer.

Kurok let Drekkath, the shrieking wind, and every other distraction fade into the background as he focused on his spell.  He had foregone the use of his magic for so long—barring the _Mask_ and a few other notable exceptions—that it took him a few moments to summon it.  But when it came it came in a flood, causing him to gasp.  He had never channeled this much raw power before, and he almost let it slide away before he could manage to direct it into the pattern that he’d been taught on the other side of the world, months ago.

The smears of blood he’d left on the stone began to sizzle as the power hit them.  Smoke flared from the marks, swirling together to form a vortex in the middle of the pattern, separate and distinct from the natural flows of the wind that surrounded them.  They gathered together in the center, just for a moment coalescing enough to form a coherent circle through which a figure stepped through.

The figure stood there as Kurok slumped back, nearly collapsing upon the stones as he gasped for breath.  The newcomer wore the same guise as at their last meeting, down to the pale drapes of rich cloth that did not stir at all in the wind.  “Well?” he asked.

It took an effort, but Kurok managed to lean forward and shift one of the stones that made up the edge of his diagram.  The blood-marks had completely vanished.  As soon as he had moved the rock the outsider stepped out of the remnants of the pattern.  He regarded both Kurok and Drekkath with a weighing look.

“I was beginning to despair that you would ever achieve sufficient power to facilitate a transition,” he said.

Kurok pulled himself slowly to his feet.  “This is the first opportunity we have had to attempt the ritual with little chance of detection,” he said.

“Yes, well, you were given this job because of your ability to make these judgments,” the other said.  He cast an expansive look around the hollow.  “So, this is Weltarin.  And the others?”

“Asleep in a canyon a few hundred yards from here,” Drekkath said.  “We will need to return quickly.  If our absence is detected there will be difficulties.”

“Indeed.  So, the mission—”

“We have uncovered the location of the book,” the doppelganger broke in.  “We are headed there now.”

“Excellent,” the outsider said.  “Most excellent.”

“We have the opportunity to thin their ranks considerably, tonight,” Drekkath went on.  “It may even be better if we exterminate them all while we have the opportunity.”

“Such bloodthirstiness!” the outsider said.  “I thought that your kind lived for this kind of game?”

“We do not use our gifts for the sake of using them,” Drekkath replied.  “We use them to an end.”

“And that end is why you are here.”

“It would be better to wait,” Kurok said.  “Securing the book may not be as easy as walking into the city and taking it.”

“It most certainly will not,” the outsider said.  “You would be wise to listen to your thoughtful colleague,” he added to Drekkath.

“The longer we wait, the greater the chance that our ruse will be discovered,” the doppelganger said.  “And even if we are not, it will be very hard to take the book from them once they have won it.”

“They must not be permitted to gain custody of the book under any circumstances.”

“So what are you telling us, then?” Kurok asked.

“Yes, some more concrete assistance would be welcome,” Drekkath added.

“You both know that I am prohibited from direct intervention,” the outsider said.  “The magic that brought me here can only facilitate my presence upon this plane for a short time.”

“Convenient,” Drekkath said.

The other fixed the doppelganger with a long stare that seemed to drop the temperature in the hollow by a few degrees.  Finally, he said, “Bredan Karras is the key.  Follow him, and he will show you the way to the book.  The others are but tools to use and discard as needed.”

“Finally, some directives that suit my tastes,” Drekkath said.  The creature started to depart, but hesitated when the outsider walked over to Kurok.  The doppelganger paused in the narrow gap that led out of the hollow, clearly curious.

“You have used our gifts well, Kurok,” the summoned entity said.  “I offer you a grant of power one last time.  This is all we can do.  Once you enter the valley, you will not be able to contact us or seek our advice again.  The gifts you have received will function, but you cannot open a gateway between our realms.  Do you understand?”

After a moment’s delay, Kurok nodded.  He’d barely completed the gesture when the other sprang forward, seizing hold of the hobgoblin’s throat with one hand while the other splayed across his forehead.  Kurok stiffened and let out a shuddering gasp, his hands twitching as he hung there helplessly.  The connection lasted only a few heartbeats before the outsider drew back, leaving the warlock to waver drunkenly for a few moments before he was able to reassert control over his body.

The pale figure stepped back into the circle, a wry smile on his features.  “When we next meet, I expect to see the book in your hands,” he said.  Then, without any flash or other special effects he simply vanished.

Drekkath and Kurok looked at each other for a long moment.  Finally, the doppelganger said, “We’d better get back.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 280

Bredan woke suddenly, his chest heaving as he fought back an intense sensation of danger and alarm.  He struggled out of his blanket and almost struck his head on the low roof of the cave before he remembered where he was.  He slumped back, trying to recover his equilibrium.  It was a dream, just a dream.  There were no shouts of warning or cries of battle; the camp was not under attack.

He did not remember what the dream had been about, just that it had been intense and threatening.  He looked out of the cave and saw that it was still night, though the sky was beginning to brighten incrementally as a preview of dawn.

Bredan slipped out of the cave, leaving his gear and his armor where it was for now.  It felt liberating not having his second skin of steel weighing him down.  He could summon his sword if need be, a reassuring presence that was always with him.

The camp was utterly quiet.  He could make a few of the heads—or feet—of a few of his companions sticking out of some of the smaller caves.

A scuff of boots on stone had him spinning around, his hand shooting out to call his sword.  He was barely able to stop himself when he saw it was Kalasien.

“Hey,” the agent said, holding up his hands in reassurance.  “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Bredan said, letting his hand drop slowly.  “You didn’t wake me for my watch.”

“You had a long day yesterday,” Kalasien said.  “I didn’t fight a giant dragon-man before the day’s march.”

Bredan nodded and stepped down toward the fire pit.  The fire had long since gone out, leaving just a dark slash in the ground.  “You should grab another hour if you can,” he said.  “I won’t be able to get back to sleep.”  He sat down on one of the rocks that faced the pit.

Kalasien joined him there.  “I understand.  We’ve come a long way since Severon.”

Bredan looked over at the other man.  “Did you have any idea what we would find, that day in the Vault?”

Kalasien looked thoughtful for a moment.  “I’m following the threads of fate, just like you,” he said.

“You haven’t offered much in the way of suggestions lately,” Bredan said.  “You were more… assertive earlier in the journey.”

The other man shrugged.  “You seem to know more about what’s happening here,” he said.

“If I give that impression, it’s an illusion,” Bredan said.  He cast a long slow glance around the canyon.  “Where’s Elias?” he asked.

“He was keeping watch on the heights atop the cliff,” Kalasien said.  “There’s an easy route around from the cleft that leads up into the pass.”

Bredan got up and scanned the cliffs that surrounded the canyon.  “I don’t see him,” he said.

“He’s probably hanging back to avoid silhouetting himself against the skyline,” Kalasien said.  He got up too and wiped his hands on his trousers.  “I’ll go check.”

“We’ll both go,” Bredan said.

The two of them had only gone about fifty yards into the narrow back portion of the canyon when they spotted the body.  Kalasien reached him first, turning him over to show his bloody face.  He pressed his fingers to the soldier’s throat.  “Dead,” Kalasien said.  “Looks like his neck is broken.”

“How long?” Bredan asked.

“It’s difficult to tell.  The human body retains heat for a while after death.  Maybe an hour?  A little less?”

“None of us heard him fall,” Bredan said.  But he thought back to the sudden way he’d been jarred from sleep.

“Not surprising, with the constant noise of the wind moving through the caves,” Kalasien said.

“And you saw nothing?”

Kalasien shook his head.  “I was keeping watch in the canyon.”

“What about Kavek?  He was supposed to be with me on this shift.”

“I think he’s still asleep.  I would have seen if Elias had come down to wake him.  I will go make sure, right now.”

Bredan looked down at the body.  “Better wake the others,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 281

The ground was too hard for digging, so they buried Elias under a cairn of piled rocks.  By the time they were finished the sun had risen fully and it was time to get moving again.  They shared out the fallen soldier’s gear, the sailors dividing his armor and weapons between them.

The climb up into the mountain pass was long and arduous.  There were numerous places where the route was steep enough to require using both hands and feet to ascend, and they had ample reason to make use of the coils of rope that Rodan had brought along.  They were wary of threats, especially after the mysterious death of Elias, but nothing materialized out of the rocks to challenge their progress.  The clouds thickened above them, growing steadily darker as the day progressed, but mercifully it did not rain.  From all the loose rocks dislodged as they climbed, it seemed like rockslides could be a hazard here.

It took them a good chunk of the day to make their way to the summit, at least six hours of climbing after they left their camp in the canyon below.  The jungle stretched out behind them, a vast expanse of green that culminated in a faint blue haze on the distant horizon.  They took a brief pause for lunch, but only a few other breaks, since they had the shared motivation of not being caught in the mountains by nightfall.

It looked as though they still had quite a long way to go when they reached a crest to find a deep cleft in the rocks ahead.  The cleft passed between two peaks that rose up hundreds of feet to each side, leaving the interior deep in shadow.  Alert to something that might be hiding in that darkness, Rodan led them forward.

The cleft quickly narrowed from maybe twenty feet across at the opening to ten feet, then even further until they were forced to walk single file.  It was all but impossible to speak since the wind blasted through the gap with a dull shriek, tugging at their clothes.  The sky remained a thin line of blue far above them, except occasionally where a boulder had fallen from above and gotten wedged into the cleft.  At one point they had to duck to creep under one such slab that had almost managed to block the route completely.  They negotiated the obstacle carefully, looked around to confirm that there was nothing waiting to ambush them, then continued forward.

The narrow passage continued for several hundred feet before it widened again and deposited them on a broad stone shelf.  Even with the overcast skies the transition left them blinking against the intensity of the light.  But as they recovered, their attention was drawn to the remarkable view that stretched out ahead of them.

The valley was broad, miles across at least, the far side just a vague haze in the distance.  It looked like the mountains surrounded it on all sides, the pale gray peaks forming a sharp backdrop to the jungle that filled the interior.  It extended for as far as they could see, but in the center of the valley, sticking out from that green expanse, was what they had come to find.

“Savek Vor, I presume,” Glori said.

It was difficult to make out details from their current vantage.  Wisps of fog hung low over the valley, even at the height of the day, and at places it was difficult to tell where the jungle ended and the city began.  The uneven lines of the structures they could see confirmed that the place was in ruins.  But they could clearly make out a number of monumental buildings that were still mostly intact, rising above the level of the surrounding jungle.

“It looks like a big place,” Xeeta said.  “Spread out.”  She cast a meaningful look over at the sailors, who were staring at the city in a mix of trepidation and wonder.

“Lot of ground to cover before we even get there,” Glori said.

“We might be able to get to the base of the range before nightfall,” Rodan said.  He’d gone over to the edge of the protruding shelf to scout the best route down.  This side of the range looked shallower and less steep than the route they’d spent the day navigating, but it was still a considerable drop to the tops of the trees that filled the floor of the valley.

“We’ll let’s get going, then,” Bredan said.


----------



## carborundum

Cool! 
I'm not so familiar with 5e, but can't Quellan do some sort of commune-type divination to see who the killer is? Or at least get a "the killer walks among you" type hint?


----------



## Lazybones

carborundum said:


> Cool!
> I'm not so familiar with 5e, but can't Quellan do some sort of commune-type divination to see who the killer is? Or at least get a "the killer walks among you" type hint?



They're still just shy of 9th level, so no _commune_ yet, though Quellan will have cause to try a _divination_ a bit later in the story.

* * * 

Chapter 282

The route down was not especially difficult, though Rodan’s chosen path frequently came close to sharp drop-offs that had them all treading carefully.  But the descent stressed new muscles, and soon they were all feeling the strain in their legs.  At one point, Bredan slipped and slammed against a jut of stone, hard enough to scrape the dwarf-forged breastplate of his armor.

“You okay?” Glori asked as she offered him a hand up.

“Only hurt my pride,” he said.

“Pride can be weighty, but sixty pounds of steel plate is heavier,” she said.

Rodan had paused at the disturbance and called back, “Do you need a rest?”

“I’m okay,” Bredan said.  “We should keep going, it’s getting late.”

“Umm… is that bird heading this way?” Xeeta asked.

They all looked up into the sky.  The dark clouds still hung low overhead, but they could see some specks in the distance, hovering high over the center of the valley.

One of them, in fact, did seem to be moving in their direction.

“That’s not a bird,” Rodan said after a moment.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to seek cover,” Quellan said.

The stretch of descent they’d been navigating had been fairly open, but there were plenty of spaces among the rocks that suggested possible hiding places further on.  Rodan led them that way, careful of loose rocks or anything else that could cause one of them to take a badly-timed spill.

The companions took frequently looks up at the approaching creature as it approached.  As it got closer, they could see that it had a huge, pointed beak and a crest of some sort that rose up above an elongated skull.  It was descending swiftly in a glide, its broad wings extended like sharp blades.  It was difficult to gauge its size from a distance, but its wingspan had to be at least thirty feet.

Rodan found a deep gap in the ridge, flanked by a litter of boulders that were each large enough to conceal a few of them.  He had unlimbered his bow, and quickly set the string as the others rushed past him.

The thing continued to streak down toward them.  They could see that it had thin claws situated midway up each wing, and hind legs that were folded back against its body as it flew.  Its beak was like a huge sword, and it seemed to shift slightly as the thing considered targets.

The last members of the column were still straggling toward shelter when the thing tilted its wings back and plummeted through the final gap that separated them.  Xeeta spun suddenly and lifted her rod, summoning her magic.  A bright point of fire shot out from its tip and streaked toward the creature.  For a moment it looked as though the shot would miss, but then the bead exploded into the bright rush of a _fireball_.

The beast jerked to the side, but its size and momentum carried it through the blast with only minor damage.  They could see that its wings and head were scorched with char, but it quickly recovered and shot once more toward its prey.

Rodan fired his bow, but the arrow narrowly missed the creature’s head.  Bredan, already in cover, started to rush out to Xeeta’s aid, but Kosk and Glori pulled him back.  The sorceress was already running toward them, even as the huge monstrosity loomed large behind her.

“Jump!” Rodan yelled.

Xeeta flung herself forward.  Rodan caught her and pulled her behind the nearest boulder just a fraction of a heartbeat before the monster flashed past.  It came so close that they could all feel the rush of air from its wings as it went by.

Bredan pulled himself up and poked his head out.  He could see the creature as it pulled away, slowly beating its wings to regain altitude.  Bits of sparkling light trailed from it briefly; Quellan had blasted it with a _guiding bolt_ in the final moment before its attack.  It didn’t look to be that badly hurt, but it no doubt had learned that this prey bit back.

“Is it coming back around?” Sandros asked.

Glori peered out past Bredan.  “No, I don’t think so,” she said.  She tapped Bredan on the arm.  “Sorry about that, before.  As big as that thing was and as fast as it was moving, it would have shot you off this ridge like a bullet from a sling.”

“It was the right call,” he said.  “A close one, though.”

Xeeta rose, brushing off her leggings.  “I do know what I’m doing, you know,” she said lightly.

Malik emerged from behind another of the boulders, staring at the shadowed form still visible in the distance.  “What was that bloody thing?” he asked.

“I’ve actually seen something like that before,” Quellan said.  “There’s a skeleton in the National History archives back in Severon.  It was called a ‘pteranodon.’  Though the one they had was much smaller, its wingspan maybe six or seven feet.  They have been extinct in Voralis for millennia.”

“Apparently rather less so over here,” Kosk noted.

“We should keep on moving,” Rodan said.  “Keep an eye out in case that thing or one of its friends decides to make another go of it, but don’t go tumbling into a chasm because you’re staring up at the sky.”

The sun had already dropped below the line of peaks on the far side of the valley by the time they reached the base of the mountains, but Rodan found them a good site for a camp before the arrival of full dark.  The site was a good bowshot back from the jungle’s edge, in a sheltered nook surrounded by a scatter of boulders.  A stream that trickled out of the rocks fed a broad pool that filled half of the nook.  Just past the stream there was a gap that led to a hollow protected by a thick overhang that made it almost a cave.  The space was clean, without any droppings or other indications that some creature used it as a lair, and it was easily big enough to accommodate the entire group.

The hard day’s climb and descent had left them all exhausted, so after a quick meal and refilling their various containers at the pool they unrolled their bedrolls, set watches, and collapsed into an uneasy sleep.


----------



## carborundum

Lazybones said:


> They're still just shy of 9th level, so no _commune_ yet...




Ah, they seem stronger  I'm looking forward to your description of the divination though. Hope it helps! 

And a pteranodon? Awesome! Lost Valley time!  :-D


----------



## Lazybones

When preparing Weltarin I drew inspiration from my old _Isle of Dread_ story.

* * * 

Chapter 283

Kosk awoke feeling stiff.  There must have been a rock or a bit of protruding stone under his bedroll, and it felt like a part of it had gotten under his skin and taken up residence in his muscles.

Kosk had spent the last several years training his body, gaining control over it by asserting control of his _ki_.  He had learned to ignore pain and discomfort, but that didn’t mean that he no longer _felt_ it.

It was still early, the sky outside their little shelter just beginning to brighten with the coming dawn.  It looked like most of the others were still asleep; faint sounds of snoring issued from further back in the cleft.  Kosk grabbed his robe—what was left of it, the garment was starting to come apart at the seams—and made his way to the narrow opening that led outside.  He was already beginning to stretch his muscles when he saw something that brought him to an abrupt halt.

The rocky hollow was full of creatures.  Each was about the size of a cart, with a long neck and tail sticking out from a bulbous body supported by squat legs shaped like inverted tree stumps.  Their hides were hairless and wrinkled, but looked thick.

Most of the creatures had gathered around the pool, and were dipping their blunt heads into the water to slurp up water.  One turned its head slowly around to regard the dwarf with eyes that reminded him of some cows he’d encountered in his earlier days.

“They’re herbivores,” Quellan said.

Kosk turned to see the cleric sitting on a rock nearby.  He had a small leather book out and appeared to be sketching the creatures.  He had his armor on, and Kosk nodded in approval when he saw his shield and mace sitting next to him, within easy reach.

“I gathered that when they didn’t immediately try to eat us,” Kosk said as he went over to join his friend.  “You taking notes for a book on the Weltarin fauna?”

“I can certainly gaining enough data for such a study,” Quellan said.  “It looks as though the evolutionary paths diverged significantly on the two continents.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m mostly worried if these things have predators that will try to eat us, like those creatures that ambushed us when we rescued that cat.”

“It would be logical to expect larger predators, given the size of the herd animals here,” Quellan said.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” Kosk said with a growl.  “Who else is on watch?”

“Sandros.  He’s keeping an eye out on the other side of those rocks over there, just in case one of your predators decides to head over this way for breakfast.”

Kosk nodded.  “Good.  Speaking of breakfast, do you think these things are edible?”

“Perhaps, but I would not want to risk provoking them.  Even an herbivore can be lethal if roused to panic.  In any case, the tabaxi have provided us with ample supplies.”

“For now.  But we don’t know how long it will take us to find what we’re looking for.”

“If it comes to it, there appears to be no shortage of forage in this jungle.”

“Fair enough.  Seems appropriate, given that almost everything we’ve encountered here has tried to eat us.”

“It has been a difficult journey thus far,” Quellan said.

“We’ve seen worse,” Kosk said.

“Aye.  We have.  But there are still unknown dangers to come.”

“There always are.  So what do you think we’ll find in this gods-forsaken city?”

“An interesting choice of words,” Quellan said.  “I do not know.  I have considered asking Hosrenu for guidance, but it seems that we will find out for ourselves soon enough.”

“I have wondered if Bredan knows more than he’s letting on,” Kosk said.

“Bredan wouldn’t put us at risk,” Quellan said quickly.

“I’m not saying he would.  I’m just wondering if he’s fully objective.”

“I don’t know if any of us can say that we are.  But we cannot let him go through this alone.”

“Of course not.  But we may have to save him from himself.”

Any response Quellan might have made was interrupted by the sounds of activity from within the sheltered nook.  A few moments later Malik appeared, followed by Kalasien and then Glori.

“Woah,” the bard said as she caught sight of the placid herbivores.  The curious one that had glanced at Kosk earlier turned its head toward her and let out a deep lowing sound.  “Cool.”

“Careful,” Quellan said as she went over to it.  The creature took a wary step back, even though her head barely came up to its shoulder.

“I won’t hurt it,” she said.

“I don’t think he’s worried about _it_,” Kosk said.

Glori merely grinned back at them and ran her hand along the creature’s wrinkled hide.  “Feels like old shoes,” she said.

Bredan appeared from the hollow, already clad in his armor.  He gave the dinosaurs barely a look before he turned to the others.  “We should get moving,” he said.  “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

There were a few groans, but the members of the little company headed back into the nook to gather up their gear.

What had seemed like a reasonable distance from the ridge above turned out to be anything but once the company reentered the jungle.

They acutely felt the absence of their tabaxi guides.  Rodan did his best, but the growth was even denser than it had been on their way here, and the forest floor remained mired in shadows even as the day matured.  If anything, it was even hotter, and soon even those not wearing armor were drenched in sweat.  Quellan was able to keep them all hydrated through liberal use of his _create water_ spell.

Unfortunately, the cleric could do nothing about the swarms of tiny insects that accompanied their every step for most of the day.  It was a miserable and exhausted group that stumbled into a small hollow formed by a pair of fallen trees that Rodan had located as the sun waned.  The canopy remained so thick above that their only way of knowing that was when the light started to fade.  Night came on so swiftly that Quellan had to summon his _light_ spell to help them clear a space and prepare their evening meal.

The heat and humidity had already ruined some of their consumables, but the tabaxi had also given them a supply of nuts and dried fruit that held up better over time.  Rodan had shot an odd-looking monkey thing about the size of a dog that he cleaned while the sailors gathered wood for a fire.  They were all alert to the danger of the cooking meat attracting a hungry predator, but with the rigors of the journey they needed something more substantial than insect paste.

But they had only just gotten the fire started when a loud crackling noise within the brush around the hollow got their attention.  They all reached for their weapons, but were still surprised when a blunt-shaped head the size of a barrel poked out from the growth and peered at them with fist-sized black eyes.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 284

For a moment the creature and the companions just stared at each other.  The dense jungle growth made it difficult to make out any details of the creature, but they could see that it was huge, well over twenty feet long.

After what felt like minutes but what only a matter of a few heartbeats Sandros shifted, adjusting his grip on Elias’s sword.  The huge head swung slowly toward him, and the sailor nearly stumbled as he took a reflexive step back.

“Hold!” Bredan hissed.  “Nobody make any aggressive moves.”

“Where did it come from?” Malik asked.  “Why didn’t we hear it approaching?”

“It must have been nearby when we arrived,” Rodan said.

“What is it?” Glori asked.

“It’s another species of dinosaur,” Quellan said.  “Another herbivore, I believe.”

The creature seemed to confirm the diagnosis as it bent its head and took a huge bite out of the tangled brush in front of it.  It continued to watch them as it chewed, branches crunching as its considerable jaws worked.

“Shoo!” Malik said.

“Be careful,” Kosk warned.  “Even if it doesn’t want to eat you, it can do a lot of damage if it gets spooked.”

“Well, we can’t just let it stay here,” Kalasien said.  “If it stumbles into our camp later it could easily step on someone.”

“We could look for another place,” Rodan suggested.

“I’d be more worried about what we stumble into if we go heading into the jungle at night,” Quellan said.  “We would need light for Bredan and the sailors to see.”

“I might be able to drive it off with fire,” Xeeta said.

“Or you might provoke it to stampede through the camp,” Kosk said.

“We could climb the trees first,” Sandros said.

“That thing has to weigh several thousand pounds,” Kosk pointed out.

Rodan had slowly circled around to the edge of the camp, leaning into the bushes.  “Its body is armored,” he reported.  “It has some kind of big club for a tail.”

“Useful for dealing with the local predators, I’d imagine,” Quellan said.

The creature continued to watch them, even as it took another bite of the undergrowth.

“We need to do something,” Malik said.

Glori strummed her lyre.  A sound materialized out of the jungle behind them, from the side of the hollow opposite where the creature stood.  The sailors tensed as it seemed to draw closer, an echo of the crashing noises that had announced the creature’s arrival.

“Don’t panic, it’s just Glori working her magic,” Bredan said, looking to her for confirmation.  They all looked back at the dinosaur, but it continued chewing, unconcerned.

Glori subtly shifted her fingers on the strings, and another sound issued from the jungle: a deep, feral roar.  Even knowing that it was an illusion, the others tensed a bit at the sound.

Finally, the dinosaur seemed to stir.  It turned and headed back into the jungle, leaving behind a trampled path through the bushes in its wake.  As it departed it shouldered aside a tree as thick around as a man’s torso, leaving it leaning to the side with its bark shredded.

“Told you,” Kosk said.

“What if that noise draws a real predator?” Malik asked as Glori let her spell fade.

“It wasn’t as far away as it sounded,” Glori said.  “I adjusted the volume to make it seem like it was coming closer.”

“Still…” the sailor persisted.

“If something does show up, we’ll deal with it,” Bredan said.  “We need food, and we need rest.  We have no idea how much longer it will take to get to the ruined city, but we need to be ready for anything when we get there.”

The meal was quick and nerve-wracking; every sound that issued from the jungle around them had them reaching for weapons.  As soon as the monkey had been cooked Rodan smothered the fire.  The meat was greasy and not very appetizing, but they all ate their portion without complaint.  Quellan covered his shield so that his _light_ spell would give them enough illumination to prepare their camp for the night without drawing excess attention from the jungle.  The insects certainly had no difficulty finding them, and he quickly let the spell lapse.

“I’ll take a watch tonight,” Glori volunteered.

“Spellcasters should sleep,” Kalasien quickly interjected, but she said, “I only used one spell today.  In any case, keeping watch shouldn’t be a problem as long as I don’t do anything physically or mentally taxing.  Besides, if that thing comes back, or a predator does find us, you’ll want a caster ready to deal with it.”

“I agree,” Xeeta said.  “Better that Bredan get a full night’s sleep, especially with what we’re heading into.  I will also stand a watch.”

Kalasien looked at Bredan, who nodded.  “Very well,” the agent said.  “Glori and Kavek, Malik and Xeeta, Sandros and Kosk, and then myself and Rodan last.  If all are agreed?”

The jungle night was hardly quiet, but their little shelter was still as those not on watch retired to their bedrolls.  Glori adjusted her lyre on its strap and went over to the far side of the hollow where Kavek had found a good vantage atop one of the fallen trees.  With her elvish nightsight she had little difficulty, but he started visibly as she joined him.

“It’s just me,” she said.

“Sorry,” he replied.  “Can’t see much in this dark.”

“That’s why we have someone with darkvision on each shift,” she said.

She watched him, aware that he could not see her.  “Are you worried about what we’ll find in the ruined city?”

He shrugged.  “I’d be a fool not to be.”

“I’ve noticed that you sort of keep to yourself,” she said.  “Apart from the other sailors, I mean.”

“I’m fairly new to the crew,” he said.  “They hired me on just before we left Li Syval.”

“Still, the others seem to follow your lead,” she said.  “The idea to come with us… that was yours, wasn’t it?”

He fidgeted a moment before responding.  “From what I’ve seen since we set out, you guys can kick the ass of anything we’re likely to find in this place.”

“I certainly hope that’s true,” she said.  “I’ll be on the other side of the camp by the other tree.  If you see or hear anything, give a little whistle.  You can whistle, yes?”

He let out a tinny trill.  “Good enough,” she said.  She made her way across the camp, careful of her sleeping companions.  Had she happened to glance back, she might have seen the sailor watching her intently, despite the darkness.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 285

Dawn found them marching through the jungle once more.  Progress was again slow.  A thin fog hung over the landscape well into the morning, giving the place a sort of ethereal presence.  The companions were more alert to potential hazards lurking in the mists, especially after Rodan pointed out a serpent that was thick around as the tiefling’s torso dangling across the branches of a tree.  The creature didn’t move toward them, but they gave it a wide berth and continued on.

The fog dissolved as midday approached, but even so the ruins managed to sneak up on them.  It seemed like one moment the jungle was the same as it had been since they’d made their way down from the mountain pass, and the next there were crumbling blocks of stone visible among the growth.  What had seemed like a narrow trail cutting through the forest became the remains of a road, with ancient cobbles overgrown with tall grasses and creeping vines.

“I’d say we’re getting closer,” Rodan said.  The jungle remained thick enough ahead that they couldn’t see any sign of the huge structures they had spotted from the mountains, but the road at least seemed to continue on for quite some distance.

“Looks like we’ll make better time, anyway,” Glori said.

“Just stay alert,” Bredan said.

It was an unnecessary warning; they were all on edge as they continued forward, with Rodan taking the lead about twenty feet ahead of the others.  The armored clank of Quellan and Bredan made stealth almost impossible, but they’d agreed to stay relatively close together, at least for their initial survey.  They had already learned that one could be standing just a few feet away from a creature in the jungle and not see them; the encounter with the giant dinosaur last night had only confirmed the lesson.

The trees thinned out as they made their way into the outskirts of the city, but they were replaced by the overgrown bulk of ruined buildings.  There was little left, just masses of crumbling stone that were not substantial enough to offer clues to what purpose they might have served.  There was nothing else left of whatever civilization had once existed here, the jungle having reclaimed everything except for the bare stone.  Occasionally they saw something that might have been a carved pillar or part of a statue, but what remained were just hints that invited speculation but offered no answers.

Quellan would have welcomed a chance to study the ruins further, but Bredan urged them to keep moving after just a brief break for lunch.  The warrior’s mood became contagious, and all of them began to feel a growing sense of expectation, that the end of their quest was growing near.  It was becoming clear that the city was huge, and that they could spend days searching it for the book, but they kept pressing forward, seeking the center they had seen from the pass.

“How could they have sustained this place?” Xeeta asked as they continued down the street.  Occasionally the collapsed remnants of an adjacent building spilled out into their path, but thus far they hadn’t encountered anything substantial enough to block them.  “We saw no fields, and there’s no way that caravans could have come over those mountains.”

“We’re talking thousands of years ago, potentially,” Quellan said.  “This valley could have contained an entirely different landscape back then.”

“Still, why would they have picked such an inaccessible place to build?” Glori chimed in.

“Who knows?” Kosk said.  “If the Mai’i built this place, we already know they were kind of nuts.”

“This place seems older than even the Mai’i ruins we’ve explored back in Voralis,” Glori said.

“It’s creepy,” Malik said.  “I feel like there’s someone watching me, but every time I turn around there’s nothing there.”

“That is a common psychological phenomenon in situations where there is great stress or uncertainty,” Quellan said.

“For all we know there could be a hundred creatures watching us from these ruined buildings,” Kosk said.

“Great, now I’m feeling it too,” Glori said.

“Quiet,” Bredan said.  “Rodan’s seen something.”

They looked ahead to where the tiefling had raised an arm in warning.  They slowly moved ahead but could already see what had alerted him.  The street ahead of them was blocked by a collapse that had left a mound of rubble a good eight or nine feet high extending between the two ruined structures to each side.  The ruins looked as though they had been quite substantial at some point, with a few partial walls suggesting that they’d once had multiple stories.  All that was left now were heaps of rubble that formed a cul-de-sac ahead of them.

“Go over, or around?” Glori asked.

“Let’s try moving one street over,” Bredan suggested.  “It seems like we’re making progress, the buildings have been getting more intact as we get closer to the center.”

“Assuming we’re heading in the right direction,” Kosk noted.

“Eventually we should be able to see something,” Quellan said.  “Those buildings we saw from the mountains should be hard to miss.”

“Over here,” Rodan said.  “It looks like there’s a route through this ruin.”

They followed the tiefling through a breached wall, the uneven blocks that remained rising to only four or five feet in height, into what might have once been some kind of courtyard.  There was a round depression filled with rubble that might have once been a fountain or other decorative structure.  The house behind it was completely collapsed, with bushes and tangles of weeds jutting up from crevices in the mounded stone.

The wall on the other side of the courtyard was more intact, though Rodan found a spot where a few blocks had tumbled free to leave a niche wide enough for a man to fit through.  He peered carefully beyond the opening and then slipped through, pausing to check the area more thoroughly before signaling for the others to follow.  Only Quellan had difficulty, his bulky armor scraping on the stones before he was able to squeeze through.

They found themselves on another street that continued on a more or less parallel route to the one they had just left.  But they’d only covered about fifty yards before they saw another blockage up ahead.

“Are you starting to feel like we’re being channeled?” Glori asked.

“Let’s take a closer look,” Bredan suggested.

They continued forward, scanning the ruins to either side for any threats.  Malik’s earlier presentiment was felt by all of them, now, even though they had seen nothing that suggested that this place hadn’t been utterly deserted for thousands of years.

The barrier blocking the street was much like the first, the remnants of the buildings to either side forming a loose wall of rubble about nine feet tall.  Rodan clambered up a slanted but still intact fragment of wall to get a look at what waited beyond.  “The street continues past the obstacle,” he reported.

“Any sign of anything promising ahead?” Glori asked.

The tiefling ascended carefully, placing his feet with care until he had reached the crest of the mound of rubble.  “Actually, I can see a bit of something through the trees ahead of us,” he said.  “It could be one of those large buildings we saw earlier.”

“Any monsters?” Malik called up.

“I assure you, you will be the first to know if I see any,” Rodan said.

“How’s the footing?” Kosk asked.

“Treacherous.  But manageable, I think.”

The others made their way up, following Rodan’s example of using the collapsed wall as a staircase.  Bits of rock shifted as they moved, but they were able to help each other over the more difficult parts.  They each paused at the top to peer into the distance.  There was definitely something there, but it was impossible to be sure what it was through the obscuring trees.  More of the rubble cascaded down as they made their way down the far side of the barrier, but they all made it down more or less intact.

At least they did until it was Quellan’s turn.  As he started down from the crest his foot landed on a bit of rock that collapsed under his weight.  He tried to recover his balance, but only managed to start a general slide that had him falling hard onto his back.  The others quickly got out of the way as he slid down all the way to the street below, bits of rock pinging off his armor.

“Oops,” he said.

“Are you all right?” Glori asked.

“Yes, just a bit bludgeoned,” he said.  He accepted the hands that she and Bredan offered and pulled himself to his feet.  “For once I am glad for all this weight of metal I’ve been lugging around.”

Sandros and Kosk, who had been bringing up the rear, appeared at the top of the mound.  “Is it safe?” the sailor asked, scanning the channel that Quellan had created through the loose rock dubiously.

“If you slip, just drop to your rear and slide down,” Rodan suggested.  He started forward to help him, but was interrupted by a sound of shifting rocks that _hadn’t_ come from them.

“That sounded close,” Xeeta said.

“Come on, get down!” Rodan said.  But before Sandros could attempt the descent they were startled by another sound, this one an echoing animal roar that seemed to come from all around them.

The companions that were gathered in the street all came together instinctively, their weapons in their hands as they scanned their surroundings for the source of the cry.  “There!” Glori shouted, pointing.

They all turned as something shifted in the ruins of the collapsed building to their left.  None of them had time to react before a creature suddenly appeared, vaulting atop the even larger heap of rubble there in a single agile bound.

The creature was an ape, a muscled hulk that stood a head taller than Quellan and had to be at least twice his weight, if not more.  Its body was covered in a thick hide of pale fur, with powerful jaws that opened to reveal ugly, protruding yellow teeth.

But more notable was the fact that the creature had an extra set of arms that jutted from its torso.  All four of those arms spread wide as it regarded the intruders into its demesne, then it pounded its chest as it let out another ear-splitting roar.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 286

Xeeta recovered from the dramatic and sudden appearance of the four-armed ape-creature first, blasting it with a series of _scorching rays_.

The girallon screamed as the first pulse of fire scorched its side, but it reacted quickly, launching itself forward over the rubble toward them.  The awkward footing appeared to give it no trouble as it landed on the sliding edge of the heap and sprang at them.  Its quick movement caused Xeeta’s second ray to miss, but the third caught it a solid blow to the belly that caused it to scream again in pain and fury.  It landed in a crouch and quickly flung itself at the startled sorcerer.

But before it could get close enough to lash out with its long arms, Bredan and Quellan both rushed forward to intercept its charge.  The cleric absorbed a punishing strike on his shield that staggered him, knocking him back several steps.  But he retaliated with a _guiding bolt_, which blasted into the creature’s chest and surrounded it with a limning aura of sparkling motes.

Bredan took full advantage of that distraction, his sword materializing in his hands as he met the creature.  Its size gave it a clear advantage, and he absorbed a solid impact from one of its lower arms that failed to gain purchase on the hard lines of his dwarf-forged armor.  But that wasn’t enough to stop him as he planted his feet and swept his sword around in a brilliant arc.  The heavy blade tore into the thing’s torso, nearly ripping one of the arms clear off its body in the process.  The creature, already bending forward in an attempt to bite its armored foe, kept going and toppled hard onto the overgrown cobbles of the street as Bredan and Quellan quickly stepped clear.  The dying ape made a few abortive attempts to rise before it slumped down, its blood forming a spreading pool beneath its massive bulk.

The companions had no chance to celebrate their victory, as ferocious cries echoed from the surrounding buildings.

“They’re all around us!” Malik cried.

“That’s just the echo from all these ruins,” Glori said.  “They’re mostly behind us and on our flanks, I think.”

Kosk quickly slid down the mound of rubble that blocked the street.  “More of those things coming fast,” he said, confirming Glori’s assessment.  Sandros slid down awkwardly after him, losing his footing and falling heavily to the ground.  Kavek quickly moved to help him up.  Quellan went to offer aid, but the sailor did not appear to be seriously hurt.

“This is a bad spot for defense,” Rodan said.

“Forward, then,” Bredan said.  “Quickly!”

They ran down the street, glancing back frequently as the sounds of pursuit grew closer.  They came to an intersection, but before they could decide on a path the decision was made for them as more of the creatures appeared along the crossing boulevard to either side.  The girallons vaulted the scattered piles of rubble and the fragmented walls with equal facility, barely slowing as they closed upon the companions.  Rodan loosed an arrow at one of them, but while the arrow scored a direct hit it seemed to do little more than drive the creature into a further frenzy.

“They’re faster than us!” Bredan yelled, turning to face the onrushing creatures.

“Keep going, I’ll try to delay them!” Glori yelled.

She already had her lyre in her hands as her companions rushed through the intersection, continuing forward where the street remained, for the moment at least, clear ahead.  Another of the apes appeared atop a partially-intact wall behind them, its weight causing the ancient structure to finally give way and collapse as it sprang forward.  There were now three of the apes in view, but they could all hear what sounded like a small army of them still closing out of their line-of-sight from within the ruins.

The nearest girallon was only about twenty feet away when Glori summoned forth a _wall of fire_ from her magical lyre.  The blazing flames, which rose to a full twenty feet in height, stretched across the street and extended well into the rubbled structures to each side.  She could hear a simian cry of fury from the other side, but didn’t wait to see what they would do, sprinting to rejoin the others.

As she caught up to them the street opened onto a broad open square.  Weeds had filled in the gaps between the stone blocks that covered the ground, but the place remained far more open than the portions of the city that they’d explored thus far.  Huge pillars that rose as high as thirty feet studded the space, supporting nothing but adding a certain monumental flavor to the place.

The buildings on the near side of the square were all in an advanced state of ruin, but on the far side to the right they could see what looked to be a mostly-intact structure.  Flanked by a portico that had collapsed partially on one side, a set of steps lead up to a dark opening that offered at least the promise of shelter.

Rodan and Bredan both saw it and pointed at the same time.  “There!” the tiefling shouted, urging his flagging companions forward.  They had gotten spread out in their flight, but the scattered column turned and hurried toward the damaged building.

They were maybe halfway across the plaza when a roar drew their attention.  They turned to see a girallon vault the uneven mounds of rubble that had once probably been rich houses and shops facing the square.  As it crested the top of the heap it lashed out with one of its huge arms and launched a piece of stone at the fleeing companions.  The improvised missile bounced off a pillar and unluckily caught Kavek in the left knee, knocking him off his feet.  Bredan and Kalasien happened to be the closest to the stricken sailor, and rushed to his aid.

A few of the others hesitated as well, but before they could decide what to do a second creature appeared about thirty feet further along the square.  It burst through the leaning remnants of a wall, launching a spray of debris that looked dramatic but which didn’t threaten any of the adventurers.  Kosk immediately shifted course to meet it, but it focused on Sandros, who lifted his spear with hands that shook as it barreled forward toward him.

Quellan started after Kosk, but even as he started running he glanced over to check on Glori.  The bard had caught up after she’d blocked the street with her _wall of fire_, the top of which was still visible over the ruins back the way they had come.  But she was still bringing up the rear of the column, and even as he spotted her, he saw another girallon that exploded from another street and loped toward her.

“Glori, look out!” he shouted, changing course to join her.

Xeeta had been pacing Rodan at the front of the column, but both tieflings came to a stop as the apes assaulted their comrades.  Rodan fired an arrow at the one rushing toward Bredan and Kalasien, scoring a hit but barely slowing it.  “If they get us with numbers in this open space, they’ll tear us to pieces,” he said.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she growled back as she lifted her rod and summoned her magic.  The apes were too far apart to hit more than one with a _fireball_, and they were already too close to her friends to risk a _wall of fire_.  She quickly scanned the ruins for signs of more of them, but for the moment these three looked to be it.  Maybe, if they could defeat them quickly before reinforcements arrived, they could still make it to the cover of the far building and make a stand.

But even as she started to summon her magic, movement on the far side of the square caught her eye.  She glanced that way, and her jaw dropped.

Another ape rose up out of the ruins.  It had four arms like the others, but this one… this one was _thirty feet_ tall, literally dwarfing the heaped wreckage of the surrounding buildings.  It rose up to its full height, unleashing a roar that felt like it shook the stones of the still-intact buildings nearby.  That shout drew the attention of every living creature in the square, and for a moment both the girallons and the companions could only stare, the former in awe, the latter in terror.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 287

The appearance of the massive ape shook the adventurers, but they had no time to deal with it as the girallons hurled themselves into melee range.

Quellan’s warning had given Glori a moment to react before the pursuing girallon overcame her.  She instinctively strummed her lyre, trying to infect it with _fear_, but either its rage protected it or her casting faltered as it barreled into her.  It lashed out powerfully with its claws, trying to drag her into an embrace that could have only ended one way.  But she was able to twist free of its grasp, narrowly escaping its snapping jaws but absorbing a solid buffet that knocked her sprawling.  The ape lifted its arms high above its head and sought to pound her into paste, but before it could strike Quellan slammed hard into it from the side.  For once the big half-orc found himself yielding the advantage of height and weight to a foe, but despite that he still managed to knock it back a step, his mace delivering a punishing blow to its ribs.

“Get your stinking paws off her, you damned dirty ape!” he yelled.

Bredan had gained the measure of these foes, and knew how powerful they were.  But with Kavek still clutching his battered knee behind him he could not give ground.  He waited until the last instant, ducking the creature’s first swing before sweeping his sword around in an echo of the stroke that had killed the first one back at the blocked street.  But this time the ape surprised him, batting his stroke aside with one of its inner arms before seizing him in a grapple with the other.  It wrapped one of its big arms around his body, pinning his arms so that he could not effectively use his sword.  It roared in triumph as it bent its head forward to snap off his face with its massive jaws.

Sandros stood his ground as the ape rushed him, planting his spear like a pikeman receiving a cavalry charge.  The head of the weapon pierced its chest, its momentum driving the flanged blade deep, but the shaft of the spear snapped as it unleashed a full series of attacks upon him.  It seized hold of him, the inner arms holding him while the outer ones delivered crushing blows that snapped bones like sticks.  The sailor let out a shriek of pain that abruptly ended as it tore his throat open with a ferocious bite.

Malik had taken a step toward his comrade when the girallons had first appeared, but the sight of the giant ape had overwhelmed him.  He stood there, frozen, as the monstrous thing leapt over the remains of what had once been a two-story house and landed on the edge of the plaza with enough force to shake the ground.  It reached back and grabbed hold of a massive slab of rock and launched it toward the hard-pressed companions.  It hit the ground once, bounced, and then slammed into Malik with such force that he was catapulted clear across the square, finally landing in a broken heap right in front of the building that had been their original destination.

“Gods above!” Rodan breathed.  “How do we fight such a thing?”

“With everything we’ve got!” Xeeta shouted back.  She held her rod out, and as flames kindled in her eyes she drew upon the power of the Demon, focusing her magic into the concentrated destructive potential of a _fireball_.

The others fought their own desperate battles, all too aware of the greater threat that was coming up behind them.  Quellan managed to hold his ground against the fury of the girallon, even though it hit him with blows that would have felled an average man.  But its sheer ferocity would have overpowered him eventually, had he been alone.  But he managed to distract it enough that it did not notice Glori coming up behind it until she delivered a _thunderwave_ that knocked it off balance.  It staggered right into a _guiding bolt_ that blasted up from Quellan’s shield, dazzling it as the divine sparks flashed around its face.

Bredan flinched back as the girallon’s teeth scraped on his helmet.  But with the creature’s powerful arms locked around him, there was no place he could go.  But then the ape let out a sharp screech of pain, and its grip loosened.  Bredan saw Kalasien dart behind it, narrowly avoiding a sweep from its free hand.  The warrior took full advantage of the distraction to slide his own arm free, lifting his sword and driving it deep into the monster’s body.  The girallon reared back and let out a pained roar, but Bredan held on, using his weight to rip the terrible wound wider.

With Sandros’s death Kosk faced the last creature alone, but the dwarf did not quail against this foe that rose to more than twice his height.  Even with his staff he could barely reach higher than its chest, but he delivered a series of punishing blows to its legs and body that soon drove to a wild frenzy.  But even with four arms and that huge advantage in size it somehow found itself grasping only air each time it lunged at him.  The staff in turn seemed to be everywhere, smacking into its leathery hide with enough force to numb muscles and shiver bone.  Arrows jutted from its upper body; Rodan had done his best to even the odds.  Blood trickled from one side of the dwarf’s jaw where a claw had scored a glancing hit, but thus far his _patient defense_ had frustrated the creature.

Finally, the ape let out a violent roar and threw itself at the dwarf with wild abandon.  But to its surprise, instead of running or evading its foe in turn leapt to meet it, his fists and feet moving in a blur as they unleashed their own deadly flurry.

The giant ape roared as the wisps of smoke from Xeeta’s _fireball_ cleared; she’d certainly gotten its attention.  Her companions seemed to be holding their own against the girallons, but it looked like they would not be able to help her for at least the next few moments.  There was a pillar nearby, a reassuring solidity that offered a place to hide, but instead she strode further out into the open center of the square.

“What are you doing?” Rodan yelled.  His quiver was empty; he’d just fired the last of his arrows at the monster battling Kosk.

“Buying us some time,” Xeeta said.

The giant ape, its upper body scorched black where the _fireball_ had struck, reached back and yanked another hunk of rubble from the mound that edged the plaza.  With an angry roar it hurled the missile at Xeeta.  The tiefling barely had time to flinch before the stone skipped by her, so close that she could have reached out and touched it as it passed.

“You have too much luck for your own good,” Rodan said.

At that moment Xeeta could hardly disagree with him.  The giant ape, seeing that its shot had missed, had already started forward.  It was still more than sixty feet away, but with its size it would not take long for it to close the distance.  She knew that she only had time for one more spell before it reached her.  She glanced over and saw that Bredan had finished off his foe and was helping Kavek to his feet, but he was too far away to reach her in time.

“Get behind one of those pillars,” she said to Rodan.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.  He’d drawn his sword, the slender weapon almost laughable in the face of what was coming.

The ape surged forward, moving every bit as fast as she had expected.  But it had only covered a few huge strides when it staggered.  It drifted to the side, clearly thrown off balance by something.  Xeeta scanned the plaza and quickly spotted Glori, strumming her lyre from the shadow of one of the pillars.  Both she and Quellan bore obvious wounds, but the girallon they’d been battling was on the ground, still moving but clearly out of the fight.

“Come on,” Xeeta breathed.  She willed for whatever spell the bard was working to take hold.  The ape was moving now as if drunk, shaking its head back and forth as if trying to shake off the magic.

The giant ape was still carrying a lot of momentum as it slammed into one of the pillars.  It stumbled back a step, dazed by the impact.  The pillar was more than eight feet thick, but it slowly leaned over before it toppled down onto the plaza.

Xeeta’s heart froze in her chest as she realized it was headed right toward where Bredan was running toward the battle, with Kalasien and Kavek just a few steps behind.

“Look out!” she yelled, but the words seemed to hang in the air, overpowered by the beat of her pulse in her ears.  There was nothing she could do except watch as the pillar came apart and dropped tons of rock onto the ground.  For a moment she caught a glimpse of Bredan, and started to feel a glimmer of relief that it had missed him, that he was alive.  But then the ground beneath his feet gave way, and with a sound that felt like the end of the world part of the plaza collapsed, dropping the warrior and the two men with him into oblivion.


----------



## Lazybones

Chpater 288

For a moment the collapse of the plaza overshadowed even the still-deadly presence of the giant ape.  Xeeta could only stare at the hole in the ground where Bredan and two other members of their company had been standing just moments ago.  Several of the pillars had collapsed as well, tumbling into the sinkhole and filling it with rubble.  Xeeta saw Glori standing on the far side, almost at the edge of the hole, a look of stunned horror on her face.

But then the giant ape roared again, pulling them all back into the reality of the moment and the danger that they still faced.

Glori was closest to it now, and clearly it had shaken off whatever spell she’d used to disorient it.  Xeeta was quick to draw its attention back to her, hitting it with another _fireball_.  The blast engulfed the creature’s body, briefly obscuring it from view.  But it quickly reappeared as the flames disappeared, and it vaulted the edge of the sinkhole to close toward the sorceress.

Xeeta waited for it, her eyes blazing as her magic surged through her.  The air began to ripple around her as her Demon woke at her call, and the weeds sticking up from the cracks in the plaza’s stone floor withered and blackened.  Rodan, standing a few feet away with his sword in his hand, looked at her in alarm but had to focus his attention on the rapidly-closing monstrosity.  The ground was shaking under them with each stride it took now, and the ranger had to concentrate on keeping his footing.

The ape was only about twenty feet away, its huge outer arms already coming up in anticipation of an attack, when a small figure darted out from behind one of the still-intact pillars nearby.  It was Kosk, moving with a speed that none of them could have matched, outpacing even the giant ape as it rushed toward the two tieflings.  The dwarf’s face was a mask of blood and bruises, and a series of deep scratches had left one side of his robe a shredded and bloody mess, but there was only determination on his face as he rushed toward this even greater adversary.

The giant girallon sensed his approach, but was too late to intercept the monk as he leapt to the attack.  The dwarf barely came up past its ankles, offering a truly ludicrous comparison to those watching, but to their amazement he sprang up and swept his staff around to deliver a precise strike to the back of its left knee.  The weapon was like a toothpick against the sheer mass of the creature, but somehow the blow buckled the limb and the huge ape stumbled, falling over heavily onto one side.  Kosk stayed with it as it fell, delivering a flurry of blows to its body and head.  His staff cracked hard into its left eye, drawing a deafening roar of pain from the creature.

Stunned by this development, Rodan finally recovered and rushed forward to take advantage of the creature’s misfortune.  He stabbed his sword deep into its thigh, missing the artery there but nevertheless drawing another furious roar from it.  Xeeta hit it with a quick barrage of _scorching rays_, careful to target areas far from where her friends were hitting it.  That wasn’t especially difficult; even prone the thing was the size of a house.

The ape had absorbed a beating, but it clearly wasn’t finished yet.  Ignoring its wounds, it pushed itself to its feet, its multitude of arms helping it steady itself.  It was surrounded by enemies, but its one good eye focused on the diminutive thing that had stung it so and half blinded it.

It lunged for the dwarf.  Kosk darted to the side and almost, _almost_ evaded its grasp.  But it caught hold of one arm and pulled him off his feet.  The lower pair of hands grabbed hold of him, the claws digging channels into his flesh.  Even despite that Kosk kept on fighting, slamming his staff into an elbow joint with enough force to disable the limb.  But even as he started to fall free it caught him in one of its upper paws, trapping his legs between its huge fingers.  He struggled to escape, but its strength held him firmly in its grasp.  His face twisted in pain as it squeezed tightly.

“Kosk!” Quellan yelled.  The cleric was running toward the fight, his own face a bloody mask of pain.  He lifted his shield and projected a _guiding bolt_ that struck the ape in the back, but it was not enough to distract it from its victim.  Rodan lunged and stabbed it again in the leg, but the ape ignored him.  There was nothing any of them could do as the ape took a single step forward and slammed the dwarf against one of the nearby pillars with all of its might.

The crack of impact briefly overpowered the chaotic din of the battle.  The giant ape held up the now limp form of its adversary and bellowed in triumph before tossing Kosk’s broken and lifeless body to the ground.


----------



## carborundum

Noooooooooo!


----------



## Neurotic

Ouchies!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 289

The giant ape reached for Rodan, but the tiefling jumped aside and slashed out with his sword, slicing open the flesh along its knuckles.  The creature roared in pain and swept out its other lower arm, knocking him flying.  He hit the ground and skidded to a stop about ten feet away, dazed by the impact.

The ape turned toward Xeeta, who had made no move to retreat.  Instead she lifted her rod and pointed it at the creature’s head.

“_Burn_,” she said.

Flames erupted at her command, engulfing the giant ape.  The creature screamed and tried to smother them with its hands, but they only intensified and spread.  Blinded by the inferno that had enveloped it, it tried to swing at Xeeta, but only managed to stagger off to the side, missing her by a good margin.  A nimbus of flame surrounded her as she maintained her focus on the _immolate_ spell, searing the creature as it flailed blindly about.  She kept burning it as it slumped to one knee, and then as it fell to both, before toppling over to its side.  She did not let up until it had stopped moving, the flames transforming it into a gory, smoking mess.

When she finally released the spell, she staggered back a step, gasping as she took a steadying breath.

Quellan ran over to the fallen body of Kosk.  It took only a moment’s examination to confirm that he was dead.  After what he’d witnessed, any other outcome would have been a miracle.  Kneeling beside the corpse of his friend, he quickly unslung his pack and begun digging through it.

“Is he…” Glori asked.  She too looked more than a bit dazed, and her eyes kept traveling back to the huge hole in the plaza.  There was no sign of Bredan or the others.

“I may be able to call him back,” Quellan said.  He found what he was looking for, and opened a tiny pouch that spilled a small handful of glittering diamonds into his hand.

“Bredan…” she said.

“One at a time, Glori,” the cleric said.  The pain in his own voice shook Glori from her grief, and she nodded.  Rodan and Xeeta came over to join them, the ranger clutching his side where the giant ape had hit him.

Doing his best to drive all distracting thoughts from his mind, Quellan focused on the divine link that connected him with his patron.  He had never attempted this spell before, but it had been in the back of his mind ever since they had left Severon, the fear that this day would come.  Calling the spirit back from across the veil that separated life from the worlds beyond was never a simple matter.  The spell he was attempting would only work if he caught that departing spirit quickly, but he forced himself to proceed through the steps calmly.  The diamonds flashed with light as he spread them across Kosk’s broken body, then dissolved as a golden glow surrounded and then seeped into his body.

Glori, Xeeta, and Rodan watched as the cleric worked his magic.  They held a collective breath for several heartbeats, then let it out together as Kosk’s body twitched and then he opened his mouth in a struggling gasp.

“You brought him back to life,” Rodan said.

Quellan slumped back onto his haunches.  “Yes,” he said.

“Could you do the same for Bredan?” Glori asked.

The look on the cleric’s face told her the answer.  “We don’t know that he’s dead,” Xeeta said.  “He could be trapped under the rocks, or…”

“You saw what happened,” Glori shot back.

A howl interrupted them, echoed a moment later by another from the other side of the plaza.

“We’re not safe here,” Rodan said.

“We can’t just leave him,” Glori protested.

“We won’t,” Quellan said.  “But we’re too beat up for another fight, and we don’t know how many of those things are left.  We need to get to shelter.  We’ll be back, I promise.”

“Help me up,” Kosk said, his voice weak.

The others assisted the dwarf.  Quellan’s spell had restored him to life, but he was still in very rough shape.  The cleric invoked a _mass healing word_ that bolstered them somewhat, but the spell couldn’t fully offset the beating that all of them—save for Xeeta—had taken in the fight.

Rodan was watching the rubble surrounding the plaza carefully, but no more of the girallons showed themselves.  But the angry howls continued as they made their way toward the shelter of the building on the far side of the square.  They echoed through the ruins as the battered companions disappeared into the shadowed interior, leaving the plaza empty save for the mangled and broken bodies of the girallons and the two dead sailors.  Smoke continued to rise into the sky from the smoldering corpse of the giant ape, forming a grim memorial to the carnage that had been wrought there.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 290

Bredan woke suddenly with no idea where he was.

It was dark, and the air was thick and stale.  He felt pain, a lot of it, but it was diffuse and he didn’t feel as if anything was broken.  There was a pressure on his body, as if something was holding him down.

He tried to move.  The surge in the pain was about what he’d expected but it was bearable.  Whatever was on top of him fell away and the pressure eased somewhat.  But there was something else; a subtle shift a few steps away that suggested movement.

His hand came up and he reflexively summoned his sword.  It was useless, he still couldn’t see, but as if in response to the thought the runes marked upon the blade began to glow softly.  The illumination was faint, barely brighter than a candle’s flame, but it was enough to reveal Kalasien standing just beyond the tip of the steel, his hands raised.

“Peace, Bredan,” he said.  “It’s just me.”

Bredan pulled himself the rest of the way up.  With the light coming off the sword he could see that he’d been half-buried in a heap of loose rock and dirt.  The mound rose all of the way to the ceiling of… wherever this was.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“We’re in some kind of underground chamber,” Kalasien said.  “I think the roof gave way when that big ape dumped the pillar on us.”

His words reawakened Bredan’s memories.  He felt a sudden and intense worry for Glori and the others, but first things first.  “Where’s Kavek?”

“I was just starting to look for him when you woke up,” Kalasien said.

The two moved around the perimeter of the mound, which filled one entire side of the chamber.  They were in some kind of vault made of stone blocks, with buttresses that supported the ceiling above.  The light from Bredan’s sword was just barely enough for him to make out the breach in the ceiling and the large block of stone—probably a fragment from that pillar that had almost killed them—that was wedged into place there.  He had no idea how much additional stone and dirt was above that blockage, but he guessed that any rescue would not be immediate.

“Over here,” Kalasien said.

Bredan hurried over to find the sailor lying half-buried in the collapse.  Kalasien was already checking him over.  “He’s alive,” the Arreshian agent declared.

“Should we pull him out?” Bredan asked.

“Moving him might hurt him worse.  Do you have any healing magic?”

Bredan shook his head.  “Used it all up.  We’ve been relying on Glori and Quellan for that, but…”  He gestured toward the ceiling, and Kalasien nodded.

Kavek groaned, and the two men turned back to him.  “Don’t try to move,” Kalasien warned.  “You took a nasty spill.  Bredan is here.”

The sailor blinked and squinted at Bredan’s sword.  “Where are we?”

“In a chamber somewhere beneath the plaza,” Bredan said.  “Are you okay?  Can you get up?”

With the others’ help Kavek managed to extricate himself.  “I think I’m okay,” he said.

“What about the leg?” Bredan asked.

“I wouldn’t want to try to run on it, but I think it’ll hold up,” Kavek said.  “How do we… how do we get out?”

“That stone looks pretty solidly wedged in there,” Bredan said.  “There must be a decent amount of stuff on top of it, or we’d see some light, hear noises from up above, something.”

“I’m not sure how long we can wait here,” Kalasien said.  He sniffed the air.  “I think the air down here is bad.  Some fresh air probably made it down here with us, but sometimes toxins can build up in underground places like this.”

“Well then, let’s look at our options,” Bredan said.

It did not take the three of them long to search the room.  The place was mostly empty, but they found an archway in the far wall that held a stone slab that looked like it was separate from the surrounding wall.

“What kind of door is this?” Kavek asked.  “There’s no hinges or handle.”

“I’ve encountered these before,” Bredan said.  “We have to lift it up.  Let’s just hope it isn’t too heavy for the three of us.”

The slab was covered in a relief that had worn down beyond recognition, but there were still subtle ridges where they could get traction.  The three men spread out and placed their hands against the rough surface.  Bredan put down his sword, which thankfully continued to provide enough light for them to see.

“All right, on three,” Bredan said.  “One, two… three!”

The three men pushed at the slab, grunting with the effort.  At first it refused to budge, but then it slowly shifted in its slots, rising a scant inch, then two.  The men redoubled their efforts, muscles bulging from the strain as they pushed up and into the heavy stone.  When it had reached a foot in height Kalasien reached down and grabbed hold of the bottom, giving him a better hold.  Kavek quickly joined him, and together the three of them were able to push it up to waist-high.

“Go through!” Bredan gasped.  Kavek ducked under, quickly grabbing hold on the other side, then held it for Kalasien to do the same.  The two shared a quick look before Kavek said, “Come on, Bredan!”

Without letting go of the door, Bredan slid under it and shifted his grip to the other side.  He used his foot to slide his sword over, although technically that wasn’t necessary, given his ability to summon the weapon instantly.  The far side of the slab had similar markings on it, but while they tried to ease it back down it still landed with a solid thud.

“Well, if there’s anything down here, they probably know we’re here,” Kalasien said.

“If they didn’t hear the collapse, then they’re deaf or dead,” Bredan pointed out.

“Dead would not surprise me,” Kalasien replied.

They turned to an examination of their immediate surroundings.  They were in a small antechamber, maybe ten feet across and fifteen feet wide.  There was a deep crack in one of the walls that rose all the way to the ceiling.  Bits of shattered masonry lay scattered on the floor underneath it, but it looked like an old wound rather than damage wrought by the collapse that had brought them here.  Bredan went over and shone the light from his sword into the crevice just in case it was a possible route of escape, but while it was wide enough to shove his arm into, it narrowed to a close after just a few feet.  Bits of stone crunched under his feet as he returned to rejoin the others.

There was one obvious exit, an arched passage opposite the door.  The corridor was unremarkable, rising to a peak about twelve feet above the floor.  From the dust and the few old cobwebs that were visible, nobody had come this way in quite some time.

“All right, let’s go,” Kalasien said, but as he started into the passage Bredan grabbed hold of his arm.  “What is it?”

“There’s something not right here,” Bredan said.

“Can you be more specific?”

Bredan shook his head.  “Just a feeling.”

“This whole place gives me a bad feeling,” Kalasien said, but he waited while Kavek went and picked up one of the larger chunks of stone under the crack in the wall.  The other two men watched while he heaved it into the corridor.

The piece of stone landed heavily, bounced, and then skittered up against the left wall.  At first nothing happened, but then, so suddenly that all three of them jumped, flames filled the space.  The firestorm came and went so suddenly that they couldn’t tell where it had originated, leaving just a haze of smoke behind.

Kavek looked at Bredan.  “I think we should trust your feelings,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 291

They followed Bredan through the trapped corridor, Kalasien and Kavek duplicating the warrior’s steps.  Either through the guidance of his vague feelings, or because the trap was unable to reset, they made it to the far end of the passage safely.  Once there they found a staircase that led down.

“The air will likely only grow worse in quality as we descend,” Kalasien said.

“I don’t see any other options,” Bredan noted.

They made their way down carefully, alert to any additional traps.  The steps were worn smooth, suggesting that at some point in the distant past this place had been populated and busy.  Now it felt like some forgotten tomb.  Bredan could not shake the connection to the slab door and thought back to the other sites he and his friends had explored back on Voralis.  They had barely survived a few of those deadly places, and that was when they had all been together.  Again he thought of his friends and hoped that they were still all right.  Likely they thought him dead; it was only pure luck that the three of them had survived that rough descent.

Or had it been luck?

Distracted by his thoughts, Bredan didn’t realize that the stairs were coming to an end until Kavek made a comment.  He held up his sword to illuminate the near edges of what looked like a large underground vault.  The place had a low ceiling, about eight feet high, with pillars that buttressed it at frequent intervals.  From the echoes that their footsteps returned the chamber went on for quite some distance.

“Stay together,” Bredan said as they started forward.

It looked as though at one point the walls and the pillars had been decorated, though the paint that remained was so faded and flaked that they could not make out any of the designs.  Narrow channels extended across the floor, just an inch or so deep, but there were not enough clues to indicate their initial purpose.  The air was sour, and Bredan tried not to think about the poisons that he might be taking into his lungs with each breath.

Kavek had shifted off slightly to the side, and as they progressed past the first pair of pillars he said, “Hey, over here.”  Without waiting for a response, he hurried off in that direction.  Biting back a curse Bredan hurried after him.  The sailor had bent over something by the next pillar over.

“What is it?” Bredan asked.

Kavek straightened and held up his find.  It was a mace, heavy and flanged, crafted out of a black metal that showed no sign of rust or decay.  Bredan frowned as he ran a finger along one of the flanges.

“Odd, to find such a thing here,” Kalasien said with a look at the sailor.

“Well, better to have a weapon,” Kavek said.  “I lost my spear in the cave-in, and you might need me to do more than just throw rocks if we run into anything down here.”

“Agreed,” Bredan said.  “Keep it, let’s just hope it isn’t cursed.”

Kavek gave the weapon another look, but held onto it as they continued forward.  They could see now that the vault was about thirty feet wide, the side walls just barely visible from the faint light coming from Bredan’s weapon, but it continued forward into darkness for as far as they could see.  They’d gone maybe forty feet when Kalasien drew their attention to the wall to their right.  “Something this way,” he said.

They followed him over to the wall, where Bredan’s light revealed a shallow alcove, maybe ten feet across and half that deep.  Embedded in the wall there was a huge stone plug, a disk a good eight feet across that protruded out a few inches from the surrounding surface.  In the center of the plug there was a small hole, just a few inches across.

“What is it, do you think?” Kavek asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bredan said.  He approached carefully, his sword at the ready.  He was about a foot from the opening when he paused.  “There’s air moving here,” he said.

Kalasien came over and took a look.  “Fresh air,” he said.  “There must be a cavern or some other tunnel on the other side.”

Bredan held up his sword.  It wouldn’t quite fit into the opening, but he used its light to take a closer look.  “It goes for several feet, at least.”

“Is there a way to move the plug?” Kavek asked.

They all spent a few moments examining the stone disk and the surrounding wall, but found no mechanisms or secret panels.  “Nothing,” Bredan said.  “Let’s keep looking.”

They continued their search, only to find that the vault ended after another twenty feet or so.  There was another one of the slab doors there, but they found no other obvious exits or notable features.

“We should rest before moving on,” Kalasien said.  “We’re all injured, and there might be greater dangers ahead of us.”

“What about the poisonous air?” Bredan asked.

“The air is fresher near that vent,” Kalasien pointed out.  “We should take advantage of it.”

“What do we have in the way of supplies?” Kavek asked.

They did a quick inventory of what they had in their packs.  The results were not especially promising.  They had all been carrying some of the tabaxi rations, but Kavek’s water flask had been crushed falling through the sinkhole, and the other two men only had a few pints left between them.  “We’ll share what we have left,” Bredan said.

They went over to the perforated disk and sat down.  They limited themselves to just a bite of food and a swallow of water each, but even that made a noticeable dent in their remaining cache.

“We’ll just take a few minutes,” Bredan said, leaning back against the edge of the alcove.  He rested his sword in his lap, careful of the sharp edge.  The others arranged themselves so they could watch all angles of the room.  Once they had all stopped moving, they could hear just the faintest of sounds of rushing air coming from the hole in the plug.

Bredan closed his eyes.  He intended to just allow himself a minute’s rest, but his exhausted and battered body caught up to him and dragged him over into sleep.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 292

When Kurok felt a soft pressure on his arm he woke instantly.  It was utterly dark in the vault; the light from Bredan’s sword had faded.  He could see Drekkath kneeling over him, but he had gotten so used to hiding his darkvision that he whispered reflexively, “Who’s there?”

Drekkath’s lips twisted in a smile.  “It’s okay, Bredan is sleeping deeply.  Come.”

Kurok rose silently, leaving his mace where it lay.  It was again reflex to refresh the illusion that concealed his features.  They made their way to a spot over by one of the pillars, where they could still see the alcove but were unlikely to wake the slumbering warrior.

“How long was I asleep?” Kurok asked.  His mind felt sluggish and it felt as if he’d only just laid his head down a few minutes ago, but he was well used to ignoring his body’s demands for rest.

“About an hour,” Drekkath said.  “I judged that you could use the time.”

_But _you_ didn’t_, Kurok thought.  The creature never seemed to sleep, at least where Kurok could see.  The doppelganger remained a cypher, mysterious in its behavior and motivations.  When they were alone it did not bother to conceal its disdain for the warlock, and there had been more than one occasion when Kurok had nearly blasted the thing, their mission be damned.

“Do you think that this complex connects to where the book is located?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” Drekkath said.  “But the question that preoccupies me is whether now is the time to put an end to him.”

Kurok looked over at the alcove and the still-slumbering figure.  “That would be a mistake.  We need him.  He has already demonstrated useful instincts with regard to this place, and his fighting skills cannot be discounted.  We are likely to encounter more than just ancient traps before we get to the book.”

Drekkath studied him for a long moment.  “I wonder if you are not beginning to feel empathy for him,” it finally said.  “I hope that you have not forgotten why we are here.”

Kurok’s expression twisted into a fury.  “You…”  Realizing that he was being loud, he leaned in close and hissed, “You dare to question _my_ motives?  You were there when we traveled through the human lands, through their lush kingdom, surrounded by wealth and food and prosperity.  I did not truly understand the depths of my people’s poverty until I saw Severon, or Li Syval.  You do not know me, creature, or understand the life that I have lived.  So be careful when issuing judgments.”

Drekkath made a slight bow, and Kurok got the decided impression that he was being mocked.  “Forgive my presumption,” it said.  “I would have known better, had you not prohibited me from scanning your mind.”

Kurok definitely doubted that was true, but he kept silent.  Instead, he pointed toward Bredan and said, “We need to find the…”

He trailed off, for as he glanced over he saw that something had changed.  Bredan was still there, a slumped outline against the wall, but directly above him, oozing out of the hole of the wall, was a bulging orb of glistening black substance.  It was already twice the size of the sleeping man’s head, and as the two conspirators watched it distended and extended a gooey tendril toward him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 293

Kurok extended his hands and unleashed a pair of _eldritch blasts_ that tore into the substance of the thing.  The magical pulses were absorbed by its mass, and they could not tell if they had harmed it.  It continued to swell as more of it issued through the tiny hole in the wall, and it formed a fresh pseudopod as Bredan sprang up and stared around in surprise.

“Bredan, get away from the wall!” Kurok yelled.

Bredan was clearly disoriented in the darkness, but he pushed off from the wall just as the creature slammed its tendril where he’d been standing.  It hit the floor with a meaty smack.  The thing’s mass now extended from the hole to the ground, and it was still expanding as more of it emerged from the opening.

Bredan summoned his sword into his grasp, and it immediately began to glow.  On seeing the black monstrosity in front of him he immediately raised the weapon to strike.

“Bredan, no!” Kurok warned, but he was too late; the warrior was already swinging.  The blade tore through the still-thickening center of its mass and cut it in half.  The upper portion rebounded against the wall, while the lower fell into a clump on the floor.  But any hope that he had harmed it faded when that lower portion formed a new pseudopod and slammed Bredan hard in the leg.  Kurok could almost hear his skin sizzling as the acid penetrated his armor and clothes.  Bredan staggered back, looking with dismay at the damage that the impact had wrought upon his dwarf-forged plate.

Kurok had lifted his hand for another strike, but hesitated.  Instead of unleashing another spell where Bredan could see, he ran forward and grabbed hold of his mace.  The upper half of the ooze had finally emerged fully from the hole in the wall, and it began to slide along the side of the alcove toward him.

“We cannot defeat this foe,” Drekkath yelled.  “Run!”

Bredan was already moving.  The ooze was following him, but it was slower than him even in his heavy plate armor.  The other one detached from the edge of the alcove as Kurok retreated.  Glancing back at the fleeing warrior, the warlock quickly unleashed a _poison spray_ that struck the ooze but only slowed it for a second before it resumed its pursuit.

Drekkath ran ahead to the far exit and the second slab door.  This one was much like the last, but they were all quite aware of the black things that were sliding forward in pulses across the chamber toward them.  Bredan joined the doppleganger in heaving at the door.  Now that they were more familiar with how the doors operated, they were able to push it slightly upward even before Kurok joined them.

“Up, up, damn it!” Drekkath hissed.  Bredan’s muscles were already like taut cords from effort as they heaved the door inch after stingy inch upward.  Kurok could not help but look back to see the oozes about twenty feet away and closing at a steady pace.

“Kavek!” Bredan hissed.  “My sword… prop it under the slab!”

Without letting go of the door, Kurok bent and grabbed the sword.  It was heavy, and awkward to manage in his current position, but he was able to wedge it into the gap.  There was not enough space to stand it straight up, but the pommel caught in the jam and the point found one of the subtle gaps that separated the slabs that made up the floor.

“It’s good!” Kurok said.  Bredan and Drekkath immediately eased the door back down until its weight rested on the sword.  There was a tense moment where Kurok thought the metal blade would shatter under the pressure, but it held.

“Through!” Drekkath commanded.  He and Kurok darted through the space between the sword and the far side of the threshold.  Bredan came last, diving through the gap.  Kurok turned to see the oozes a scant five feet away; the nearer one was already forming a pseudopod to attack.

Kurok tensed, but even as the things lunged forward Bredan kicked out.  He struck the sword, which flew out into the vault.  The door slammed down hard, plunging them into darkness.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 294

For a long moment Bredan lay there on his side in the dark, breathing heavily.  He could hear Kavek right next to him, but strangely Kalasien was silent.

Finally, reluctantly, he held up his hand.  For a moment he thought that the sword would not appear, but then its familiar weight rested in his hand.  The glow erupted from the runes marked in the blade, and he took a look around.

The door was right in front of him, scant inches from his foot.  If he’d stumbled a bit it would have crushed his ankle and held the door open enough for the creatures to get through.

He scanned the threshold carefully, looking for any sign of the things, but there were none.

“Think that will keep them out?” Kalasien asked.  Bredan craned his neck and saw the agent standing a few feet away.  The man could definitely be quiet when he wanted to be.

“It would appear so,” Kavek said.  He leaned over and offered Bredan a hand up.  “Are you all right?”

“A bit singed,” Bredan said.  He inspected his leg where the thing had struck him.  “What happened?  I thought I saw a flash, and then that thing...”

“It came through the hole in the wall,” Kalasien said.  “I heard something and got up. I tried to make a light with flint and steel, that’s probably what you saw.”

Bredan turned to Kavek.  “You warned me not to hit it with my sword.”

Kavek nodded.  “We have those things in Zesania, though thankfully they’re rare.  You can’t hurt them with cutting weapons, it just makes more of them.”

“What are they?” Bredan asked.

“We called them ‘black puddings.’”

“How’s your armor?” Kalasien asked.

Bredan examined the damaged plates again.  “Can’t do anything about it now,” he said.  “Unless we happen upon a smithy down here.”

“Might as well hope for a tavern,” Kavek said.

“Yeah,” Bredan said.  “How long was I asleep?”

“I don’t know,” Kalasien said.  “I sort of drifted off myself.  I know we should have had at least one of us keep watch…”

“It’s all right,” Bredan said.  “We were all exhausted.  At least now our bodies have had a little chance to recover, at least.”

“No way back, now,” Kavek said.  “And we’re already too far away to hear if the others are able to burrow down to where we started.”

“Then we have to go forward,” Bredan said.

He held up the sword to illuminate the room they were in.  It was another antechamber, maybe fifteen feet by fifteen, with another arched corridor leading away.  This time the other two men waited to see if Bredan would have any more “feelings,” but nothing came to him when he stared down its length.  With the light source in his hands he led the way, Kavek and Kalasien following just a few steps behind.

The corridor extended for about fifty feet before it opened onto a larger space.  This one looked to be a hybrid of a natural cavern and a worked room, with a curved wall to their left and an uneven ceiling that rose to a peak about fifteen feet above.  There were more crevices and cracks in the walls, and more scattered debris, but their attention was drawn to three worked tunnels that radiated out in different directions from the far side of the chamber.

“It looks like we have a choice, now,” Kavek said.

“I’m not detecting any noises or air flow from any of them,” Kalasien said.

Kavek turned expectantly to Bredan.  “Any idea of which way we should go?”

The warrior came forward and stood at a point where he could turn to face each of the passage openings in turn.  He closed his eyes and lifted his sword.  He turned around, slowly, turning a full circuit until he came to a stop facing one of the tunnel openings.  It was the one on the left.

“This way,” he said.  Without looking back, he started down the passage.

The other two shared a quick look and then followed.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 295

“This place is a maze,” Kavek said as they turned into yet another passage.

Bredan didn’t say anything.  He was starting to doubt himself, and the subtle twinges that he’d been using to guide them.  Clearly _something_ had warned him about the fire trap in the first corridor, and he’d thought he’d felt something when he’d lifted his sword at the first three-way fork, but they’d been wandering for what felt like at least an hour and he was starting to feel that maybe they were just lost.

He still did the ritual at every branching, but he suspected that his companions were starting to come to the same realization.  Clearly the ancient city was huge, and this network of caverns, worked chambers, and connecting passages extended under a good portion of it.  But thus far they had not come to anything that looked like it could be an exit or a route to their ultimate destination.

At least they hadn’t come upon any more traps or creatures like the black pudding.  There had been a few hazards, including a chamber with a collapsed floor that they’d finally just given up on, retracing their steps to the previous fork and selecting the other option.  Once they had found themselves back in a room they had already explored.  Bredan could almost feel the looks shared behind his back when they’d realized that they had just looped back around.

They had stopped once more to share around a swallow of water and a few bites of their remaining rations.  There wasn’t much left of either now.  The air remained stale, but Bredan wasn’t sure if it was slowly poisoning them.  He had a bit of a headache, but that could have just been the lack of rest and the repeated battering that he’d taken over the last few hours.

His mind had wandered so thoroughly that he didn’t realize they had come into a new chamber until Kalasien touched him on the arm.  With a start he came back to the present and looked around in surprise.

This place was definitely new.  The chamber was irregularly shaped, its walls meeting at angles that didn’t quite match.  It was spacious, its far side lost in darkness beyond the limited radiance of Bredan’s sword.  There was a large mound of rubble in the center of the room, tall enough that it looked like it would take a considerable effort to scale.  Above it the ceiling rose in an inverted funnel to what might have been an opening, but it was impossible to be sure in the weak light.

“Anyone see another way out?” Bredan asked.

“Our eyes are no better than yours,” Kalasien said.

Bredan shot him a look.  Kalasien’s mood seemed to be souring the longer they spent down here.  It was a notable change; the Arreshian agent had hardly seemed to feel emotion at all since they’d departed Li Syval.  It was understandable; Bredan himself had felt on edge ever since they’d arrived on the shores of Weltarin.  But if the man was close to losing control that was something he needed to know.

They were moving slowly into the room, and Bredan was about to say something to Kalasien, when a rumbling sound froze them in mid-step.

The sound was coming from the mound in the center of the room.  It became a vibration, then a cascade of dirt and stone as the rubble shifted.  Bredan was not entirely surprised when it rose up and took on the form of a giant humanoid creature, a heap of living rock that stood a good ten feet tall and loomed over the companions like an avalanche.

The floor shook as it took a step toward them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 296

Bredan had a sinking feeling even before he glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the exit to the chamber was gone, the passage replaced by an apparently solid wall of stone.  He remembered a similar encounter in the Silverpeak Valley, and here they had walked into the same trap.  There he had faced two elementals, but he’d had his friends with him.  Kalasien might be competent and Kavek brave, but they were in no way the equals of Kosk, Glori, Quellan, or Xeeta.

But Bredan had changed since that last encounter, and he did not shrink before the challenge that came toward him with an earth-shattering gait.

He summoned the magic that was the book’s gift to him as he came forward to meet the elemental.  Once again he _enlarged_ himself until he was a match for the creature in height, if not in weight or raw power.  It leaned forward, using its momentum and its mass as a battering ram, but as it slammed into Bredan he held his ground.  He absorbed the impact and with a guttural roar thrust it off him.  It swung its arms at him, its ponderousness more than balanced by its raw strength, but the warrior evaded the first blow and took just a glancing hit from the second that was mostly absorbed by his armor.  The elemental lifted his arms to strike again, but Bredan was already counterattacking.  His sword clanged loudly through the cavernous interior of the chamber as it slammed into the elemental’s body.  The thing was made of rock, but the magical greatsword tore great gouts of substance from its torso that crumbled into gravel as they fell away from its form.

Kalasien and Kavek had both been given pause by the sheer scale and intensity of the melee between the two large combatants, but they recovered swiftly and moved to Bredan’s aid.  They spread out to come at the elemental from the flanks, Kalasien moving around to the right while Kavek circled from the left.  The Arreshian darted in and delivered a minor blow from his rapier that knocked a bit of rock from the joint where its right leg met its body.  The wound was not enough to distract it from Bredan, but added a slight hitch to its step as it launched a fresh series of attacks on the embattled warrior.  This time Bredan held his ground until the last instant, then summoned a magical _shield_ that reverberated from the force of the impacts but held together just long enough to get clear.  Even as it dissolved Bredan continued hacking at it with his sword, tearing away a good chunk of its left arm.

Kavek had clenched his mace in both hands and was about to join the fray when he heard a sound of rushing air coming from above.  He looked up to see an ethereal, half-transparent form descending from the conical peak of the chamber.  A pair of glowing eyes shone from within the core of the entity.  It was coming right toward him.

The sailor immediately glanced aside at Bredan, but the warrior was fully engaged with the first elemental and likely hadn’t even recognized the new threat.  Kavek turned back and closed his eyes.  Frost crystalized around his clothes as the sound of the onrushing creature filled his ears.

He made no move to evade as a colossal impact drove him back several steps.  But within the protection of the _Armor of Agathys_ he barely felt the blow.  He looked up to see the form of the air elemental swirling with bits of magical frost.  It looked like a snowstorm hovering in the air in front of him.

He lifted his weapon as the creature came at him again.

Bredan detected movement out of the corner of his eye and heard the sound of _something_ engaging Kavek on his flank.  He didn’t dare shift his attention from his foe for an instant; even that minor moment of distraction nearly cost him as the earth elemental swept an arm forward and caught him a glancing blow to his shoulder that knocked him back a full step.  The creature had absorbed considerable damage already, but Bredan had no idea how much of it he would have to carve away before the magic that bound it to this plane was sundered.  Even as it tried to swing at him again, he brought his sword around and smashed a chunk the size of his head from its leg.

“Kalasien!” he yelled.  “Help Kavek!”

The agent didn’t say anything, but his presence on the edge of the battle disappeared.  Bredan was alone again.

Kavek was lifted off his feet as the air elemental shot forward and engulfed him in a swirling maelstrom of tornado-force winds.  His spell had already been depleted, but the magic had inflicted serious damage on the creature.  He swung his mace blindly, trying to connect with some part of its substance, but he quickly lost all awareness of his surroundings as he was flipped end-over-end before he was flung violently from the whirlwind.  He caught a glimpse of Kalasien, approaching fast, but the doppelganger stepped smoothly aside as the warlock shot past him and bounced painfully off the chamber floor.

Bredan was only dimly aware of the second fight going on just paces away as he and the earth elemental continued to trade blows.  His left arm throbbed where a solid impact had caught him, but the creature in turn was covered with scattered pockmarks where pieces of its substance had been torn away.

The elemental reared up and spread its arms wide as it lurched toward Bredan once more.  He wasn’t sure if it was trying to crush him or tackle him, but either way he didn’t wait.  Even as its arms began to swing forward, he stepped in and drove his sword up with all of his strength behind it.  The _enlarged_ blade pierced its chest and kept on going until the crossguard caught on the edges of the wound.  The elemental sagged and then just started to come apart.  Bredan was spattered with bits of stone that formed a mound around his legs as the elemental was reduced to what it had been before, just a loose heap of rock and dirt.

He took a deep, steadying breath before a sound of rushing wind drew his attention.  He looked up to see Kalasien giving way before what looked like a living tornado.  His rapier flashed, and for a moment Bredan saw the outline of what looked like a wound appear in the thing, but then it countered with a buffet that knocked the agent sprawling.  Kavek was just staggering to his feet a few paces away, but he looked hurt.  He lifted a hand but hesitated as he saw Bredan watching him.

Bredan charged forward, the rubble giving way as his elongated legs pulled free.  He picked up speed as he won clear and shouted a challenge that drew the creature’s attention toward him.  He could see the pair of glowing eyes within its nebulous substance, and used them as a guide as he swept his sword around in a powerful arc through its form.  He felt resistance as the magical blade cleaved through the air elemental’s body, then with an echo of a shriek the thing dissolved into nothing.

Bredan let his sword drop to his side.  Kalasien got to his feet, looking a bit battered but otherwise intact.  “Are you both all right?” Bredan asked.

“That was a nasty combo,” Kavek said.  He walked over to pick up his mace, which had been flung a good ten paces away during the fight.

Bredan noticed the crust of ice crystals that clung to the sailor’s back.  “What happened to you?”

Kavek turned and noted his gaze.  “That thing… it was freezing cold.  Do you know what it was?”

“Some kind of elemental,” Bredan said.  “I’ve fought other kinds before.”

“That rock one looked like it hit hard,” Kavek said.

Bredan shifted his arm.  No bones were broken, but he imagined he could feel the limb swelling within the confines of his armor.  “Yeah,” he said.

“Maybe we should take another rest,” the sailor suggested.

“No,” Bredan said.  “We have to press on.”  He lifted his sword and pointed it toward the far wall of the room, where the weapon’s glow had revealed a staircase that ascended through an arched opening.

Kalasien came over to him.  “Do you sense something?”

Bredan shook his head.  “I don’t know for certain.  But I have this feeling that we’re running out of time.”

Kavek joined them, holding his mace.  After a look at the Arreshian agent he nodded.  “Forward, then.”

With Bredan in the lead again, the three of them crossed the room and started up the stairs.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 297

“He’s alive,” Quellan said.

Glori leaned forward until they were almost touching.  The cleric was kneeling in the center of a small cleared space within the interior of the temple where they had taken shelter.  At least that was what they had guessed the place to be.  They had found the remains of what might have been statues, but most of the place was choked with rubble from the partially collapsed ceiling and crumbling walls.  The others were gathered around the half-orc as he peered into nothing, lost within the power of his _locate creature_ spell.  Outside the open doorway night had already descended over the city, but since all of the survivors of the group could see in the dark, they hadn’t bothered with a light that could attract more of the apes or other predators.

“Where is he?” Glori asked.  She and the others were covered in dirt and stone dust that formed uniform masks over their features.  She, Kosk, and Xeeta had spent most of the previous afternoon trying to dig out the collapse that filled the sinkhole in the plaza outside.  All they had found was dirt and stone, and finally had had to give up their efforts when they had threatened a wider collapse of the surrounding area.

Quellan’s brow tightened with concentration, and he lifted an arm to point roughly to the north, more or less in the direction they’d been headed when the girallons had attacked them.  “He’s almost at the range of my spell, he…”  He shook his head and let out an angry sound.

“What?” Glori asked.  “What happened?”

“I lost him,” Quellan said.

“Did he move outside the spell’s range?” Kosk asked.

“No.  He just… he just disappeared.  It felt… strange.  Almost like something was resisting the link established by the spell.”

“Well, at least we know he’s alive,” Xeeta said.

“And it looks like he found a way back up to the surface,” Glori said.

“I don’t know if he did,” Quellan said.  “From what I got… it wasn’t a clear connection, but I think he might have still been underground.”

“That would suggest that there’s a considerable underground complex beneath the city,” Kosk said.  “Old sewers, perhaps.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Glori said.  “We have to find him.”

“You are exhausted,” Kosk said.  The dwarf didn’t comment on his own recent brush with death, though there were dark circles under his eyes and his skin remained pale beneath the coat of gray dust.  “It would be reckless to explore the city at night, and you need sleep.  Quellan got a chance to sleep, but the rest of us didn’t get anything more than a short rest.”

“I’m fine,” Glori said.  “I still have plenty of spells left, and Xeeta…”

“I used a good portion of my higher order magic in the battle with the apes,” the sorceress said, “but I assure you that I can manage more blasting if needed.”

“We can all see in the dark,” Glori pointed out.  “Bredan could be hurt, or otherwise be in trouble…”

“It’s not just about spells, or the time of day,” Kosk said.  “Even with Quellan’s healing, we’re still beat up.  We won’t help Bredan if we get ourselves killed trying to get to him.”

“Kosk has a valid point,” Quellan said.  “I used up all of my diamonds to _revivify_ him.  I cannot repeat the spell if another should fall.”  His gaze lingered on Glori as he spoke, and a deep sadness filled his eyes.

Glori’s response was interrupted as Rodan entered the building.  The tiefling scout had recovered a few usable arrows, but otherwise looked as worn down as the rest of them, if not as injured.  “There’s no sign that any more of those apes are lingering anywhere nearby, but there were definitely more of them than the ones we fought,” he reported.  “The death of the big one seems to have frightened them off for now, but I won’t go so far as to say that they’re gone for good.”  He took in the scene and looked at Quellan.  “Did you learn anything?”

“Bredan’s alive,” Glori said.  “He’s somewhere further on near the city center.”

“That’s good news,” Rodan said.  “Very good.  Can you lead us to him?”

“The connection was very brief,” Quellan said.  “I can only say that he was somewhere along the course that we were headed before the attack.”

“Kosk thinks it’s a bad idea to press on during the night,” Xeeta said.

“Normally I would agree with him,” Rodan said.  “Darkvision is no substitute for daylight, and there are plenty of places to hide in these ruins.  Also, we haven’t had much luck with the daytime predators thus far.  I can only imagine that the nocturnal ones are just as bad, if not worse.”

“We’ve already lost eight hours while Quellan prayed for his location spell,” Glori said.  “If we wait until morning, he might have moved on, and we’ll lose even the limited information we have now.”

“Perhaps we should take a vote,” Xeeta said.

“All right,” Glori said.  “All in favor of setting out immediately, raise your hands.”

Xeeta and Glori raised their hands, followed by Rodan.  After a moment, Quellan did as well.

The others looked at Kosk, who frowned but finally nodded.  “All right, we keep going,” he said.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 298

The streets of Savek Vor were a different experience in the night.  The moon had vanished, but the clouds that had thickened the sky since their arrival had mostly departed and the starlight was more than adequate for the adventurers to find their way.  The night was alive with sounds, but they did not hear anything close by, and no more deadly creatures appeared to block their progress.

The destruction and decay that had claimed the ancient city was less pronounced as they made their way further toward its core, but they still had to navigate heaps of rubble where buildings had collapsed into the street and tangles where the resurgent jungle growth had to be hacked through to clear their way.  But they didn’t encounter any more blockages like the one where they had first encountered the girallons, and for the most part they made better progress than they had during their initial entry into the city the previous morning.

They had been walking for maybe half an hour when they saw a more regular shape rise up out of the darkness ahead.  As they approached, they could see that it was a wall, which looked like it encircled the entire inner precinct of the city.  The wall was mostly intact, although there were occasional gaps along the top where pieces had crumbled away, and other places where the jungle growth had managed to gain purchase over the centuries.  The wall was about fifteen feet tall, but they could make out the outlines of larger structures rising up beyond it, buildings that might have been the ones they had spotted from the mountains that rimmed the valley.

At first it looked as if they might have to try to climb over the barrier, but as the overgrown street passed a final set of ruined buildings they could see an opening ahead.  There was a gap of about thirty feet between the nearest structure and the wall, a space that had probably been kept cleared at one point but was now thick with tangles of brush and tall grass.  The cobbled path continued through that thicket to a gap in the wall that was roughly fifteen feet across.  It was surmounted by the remains of an archway that had collapsed at some point, leaving just a pair of partial arms that ended in uneven claws of stone.

“This place gets creepier with each passing moment,” Glori said.  She held her lyre tightly, as if resisting the urge to call upon its magic.

“There’s something there, in the gap,” Xeeta said.

They made their way carefully forward.  They didn’t find any evidence that a gate or other barrier had once warded the opening in the wall, but they could see the object that Xeeta had identified.  It was a block of stone about three feet thick, lying right in the middle of the street.

“It looks like it might have been the capstone of the arch,” Kosk noted.

“There’s something inscribed on it,” Glori said.  Without waiting for comment from the others, she strummed her lyre and summoned a single globe of _dancing light_ that hovered directly over the broken piece of stone.  The light drove back the surrounding night and revealed a sigil, barely visible on the weathered fragment, that they all recognized.

“That was the mark on the tabaxi matriarch’s seal,” Quellan said.  “And Bredan’s sword.”

“I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before,” Xeeta said.  “Long before.”

“Maybe it was back in that shrine, in the Silverpeak,” Kosk said.  “I can’t for the life of me remember what was written on that wall, but it could have been there.”

“Something happened to us there,” Glori said.  “Bredan’s been affected the most, but we were all touched by that power.  I remember that my magical powers expanded shortly after that encounter.  And we’re all carrying a bit of that power with us,” she said, holding up her bow.

“I think you should drop the light,” Rodan suggested.  Glori let her fingers stop and the glowing orb faded with the music.  The night quickly enveloped them again.

“It’s quiet,” Xeeta said.

They all paused to listen.  They heard what she did.  Behind them the faint sounds of the jungle night stirred in the ruins, but ahead of them there was only stillness.  The buildings within the wall appeared to be more intact than those outside, but they couldn’t see very far in the starlight.  The street they’d been following continued more or less straight for as far as they could see, heading in the general direction of the huge structures that loomed like mountains in the distance.

“Like I said, creepy,” Xeeta said.

“Bredan’s probably somewhere in there,” Glori said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Kosk said.  “We’ve already covered more distance than Quellan’s spell reaches.”

“You could try casting it again,” Xeeta suggested.

Quellan looked thoughtful.  “It won’t help if he’s underground,” he said, “Or if he’s warded by whatever power interrupted my earlier attempt.”

Glori stepped in front of the fallen capstone and turned to face them.  “All right, we go on?”  When none of the others offered any challenge, she started down the street again.  One by one the others followed, but when Quellan passed through the arch he stumbled and clutched his head.

“Quellan?” Xeeta asked.

Glori heard and came rushing back.  “What’s wrong?”

“I… I’m not certain,” Quellan said.  “I felt… something.  A disturbance.  Almost like my connection to Hosrenu…”

He trailed off, but reached up to touch his shield.  A moment later it began to shine with magical _light_.  But the glow was weak, and it flickered briefly before stabilizing at maybe half its usual intensity.

“What’s causing it?” Rodan asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  He stepped back through the gate, but the light did not intensify.  “It’s something about this place, I think.”

“Do any of the rest of you feel anything?” Glori asked.  She herself strummed her lyre, summoning a fresh cluster of _dancing lights_.  The tiny orbs didn’t seem any different than usual.  After a few moments she let them flicker out once more.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t stop you from casting more powerful spells in there,” Kosk said.

Quellan looked troubled by the thought, but he dismissed his spell and straightened.  “I’m all right, I can continue.”

Glori’s expression lit up with a sudden revelation.  “Maybe the city wall has an enchantment of some kind on it,” she said.  “A ward of some sort.  Maybe that’s what kept your location spell from working correctly.”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Quellan said.

“If that’s the case, it might work if you try the spell again from inside the wall,” Glori said.

“It might,” Quellan said.  “But again, only if he’s within range.”  He didn’t repeat the other requirement, that the subject be alive; none of them needed the reminder.

“What about the version of the spell that locates objects?” Xeeta asked.  “You said that you used that to track me in Li Syval, when I was warded by the fiend cult.  You could try it on Bredan’s sword.”

“That didn’t work,” Kosk pointed out.  “They had dumped your amulet in a well.  And Bredan’s sword is bound up in the magic of this whole place somehow, for all we know it’s the thing that’s keeping us from finding him.”

“Still, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Glori persisted.  “I know that you only have a limited number of powerful spells each day…”

“No, you’re right,” Quellan said.  He visibly steeled himself before stepping back through the archway.  This time he did not have any obvious difficulty, but he crossed over to the shelter of one of the nearby buildings before he readied himself.

“Do you need us to do anything to help prepare?” Rodan asked.

“No, this will only take a moment,” Quellan said.  He put down his shield and hung his mace on his belt, then touched his holy symbol and closed his eyes.

It was clear to the others that the spellcasting was not as easy as the cleric had made it out to be.  Quellan’s brow furrowed with effort, and his lips moved soundlessly as he focused his full effort on the effort.  Finally, he sagged in release.

“No luck,” Rodan said.

“I tried to scan both for Bredan and for his sword,” Quellan said.  “Whatever power is in this place, it’s blocking me somehow.”

“All right,” Rodan said.  “So back to the original plan, then.”

The five of them continued into the city, the partially-ruined buildings looming up out of the darkness around them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 299

The street remained straight and unobstructed as they made their way further into the interior of the abandoned city.  They passed buildings made of granite blocks with facings of marble or sandstone, any of which would have been considered a palace back in Arresh.  The facades of those structures showed some signs of decay, with cracks in the surface stone, or tiles that had fallen away to reveal the plainer stone beneath.  But this part of the city was remarkably preserved compared to the outer precincts they had traveled through to get here.

“There are no insects,” Xeeta said.  “No birds, nothing at all.”

They had already noted the quiet, but the sorceress’s announcement added to the sense of unease that this ancient tomb of a city created.

“Let’s get where we’re going,” Kosk said.

For a time they picked up their pace, but the dark alleys and shadowed doorways that surrounded them soon urged them back to a cautious approach.

The street finally came to an end, depositing them onto another broad plaza.  This one was similar to the one where they had encountered the girallons, right down to the huge pillars that rose up from the ground, but it was both larger and cleaner, without even occasional weeds rising up from the cracks in the ancient stone blocks.  The entire place was dead and quiet.  The buildings that surrounded the square were all impressive, but their attention was drawn to the far side, where a truly monumental structure loomed over its considerable neighbors.  A huge dome rose up to an apex that had to be at least a hundred feet above the ground on which they stood.  The building was situated well back from the square, behind a low wall that warded some sort of enclosure that they could not view from their current vantage.  Pillars half again the size of the ones that filled the square supported a portico at the front of the giant building, but they were too far away to see whether there were doors or some other kind of entrance.

“I’m just going to venture a guess, but I’d say that’s where we’re going,” Kosk said.

“That place makes the Royal Palace back in Severon look like a farmer’s cottage,” Glori said.

“It must have taken a fantastic effort to build,” Quellan said.  “Especially in a place like this.  And to survive so long…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s impressive,” Kosk said.  “Let’s get this over with.”

They were alert to another ambush as they made their way across the square, but this time nothing emerged from the surrounding city to threaten them.  Clearly whatever effect that had disturbed Quellan so much on passing through the open arch also kept the residents of the jungle at bay.  But the quiet only added to the sense that they were intruders there, and it did nothing to reassure them that this place was safe.

There was a gap in the wall that separated the grounds of the giant building from the open square, so they headed in that direction.  The wall itself was only about seven feet tall, less of a fortification than a line of demarcation between the rest of the city and this place, whatever its purpose.  The stone blocks had been carved at one point but time and the elements had worn the figures away until all that was left were vague outlines of what might have been people, animals, or really anything.

The space before them was empty and barren, but enough remained to suggest that it had once been much more elaborate.  Large bare patches of packed earth might have once been gardens.  There were a few plants visible here and there, but they were straggly and pathetic, poking up tentatively from the ground as if afraid of being seen.  There were a few smaller outbuildings, open pavilions or small walled enclosures that appeared to be placed to emphasize the decorative features of the area.  A pair of large pools, each about thirty feet wide and over a hundred feet long, flanked the main path that led directly to the front of the huge building ahead of them.  Smaller paths wound through the empty garden plots, connecting to some of the other structures before eventually rejoining the central route at its destination.

“This place must have been beautiful once,” Glori said.

“It still is,” Xeeta said.  “But in a sad, empty way.”

“I can’t believe that no knowledge of this place has ever spread,” Quellan said.  “None of the accounts of the Syvalian crew that found the Book mentioned anything like this.”

“Well, you can write the definitive study when you get back,” Kosk said.  “For now, let’s find our boy and what we came here for.”

The dwarf’s sense of urgency spread to the others, and they followed him as he made his way directly down the central path.  It was easily twenty feet wide when it passed between the pools, the paved route flanked by an empty stretch of bare earth to either side.  The pools were full of murky water that dimly reflected the light of the stars above.  They could have been a foot deep or a hundred; there was no way to tell from casual observation, and all of the companions gave them a wide berth as they continued forward.

Kosk was about halfway to the end of the pools, and maybe ten feet ahead of the rest of the group, when he came to a sudden stop and raised his hand.  The others all stopped as well and tensed, listening.  “What is it?” Glori asked after a few seconds had passed.

“I thought I heard something,” Kosk said.  They all listened for another stretch of time.  “It must be this place getting to me,” he said.

They started forward again, but had only managed a few steps when they all detected something; a faint vibration that seemed to rise from the ground at their feet.  Again they searched for the source to no avail, but after a few moments Xeeta pointed and said, “The pools!”

The murky surface of the water had begun to ripple slightly, confirming what they’d felt, but as they all looked at the point that Xeeta had indicated they could see that the disturbance was becoming stronger.  That was the only warning they got before the surface erupted and a huge _thing_ emerged from the pool.

It had the look of a giant crab or other crustacean, or at least it did until it pulled itself up over the lip of the pool and rose up onto four hind legs to stand partially upright.  It was huge, standing taller than Quellan, its chitin-encased body extending all the way back into the pool.  Its forelegs ended in massive claws, and a fringe of glistening tentacles dropped from the front of its head where a mouth should have been.

The companions had only had a moment to prepare, but they had put that time to good use.  Even as the creature got its footing on the edge of the pool multiple attacks slammed into it.  The water that dripped from its armored body flashed into steam as Xeeta blasted it with a series of _scorching rays_.  A moment later an arrow from Rodan’s bow found one of the gaps in the creature’s armor just below its head, stabbing deep into its body.

The creature reared up in a fury, but before it could attack Quellan drove into it.  He slammed its shield into its body, trying to push it back into the water.  Its lower legs scrambled for purchase on the raised edge of the pool.  The cleric lifted his mace to strike, but before he could strike another loud eruption behind them announced that the creature was not alone.  A second one appeared from the other pool, its claws snapping as it clambered up out of the water and joined the attack.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 300

“Behind us!” Rodan yelled, in case any of them had somehow missed the fact that they were now flanked.

Kosk changed course in mid-stride, turning to engage the second creature as it rose up out of the pool.  He tried to damage one of its lower legs with his staff, but the thing shifted at the last instant and the weapon bounced harmlessly off its body.  He tried to follow up with a kick to one of its leg joints, but that blow as well missed as it swept forward to attack Xeeta and Rodan.  The dwarf cursed as it lunged with its claws at the two tieflings.  Rodan ducked under the first, narrowly avoiding contact, but Xeeta was snared and lifted off her feet as the claw snapped hard around her waist.

Quellan quickly glanced behind him before turning back to deliver his attack on the first creature.  But the momentary distraction had cost him.  Even as he swung his mace, the creature smashed one of its claws into his body.  The impact knocked him backwards, and he fell to one knee.  The monster toppled back forward fully onto the ground, the end of its body rising up out of the water to reveal a flanged tail, like that of a lobster.

“Quellan, get back!” Glori warned as she rushed forward.  The cleric instantly obeyed, leaping back a scant instant before the bard unleashed a _thunderwave_.  She’d clearly intended to finish the job of knocking it back into the water, but the creature had gotten a firm purchase, and its weight was too great for her to dislodge.  The pulse of sound clearly had an effect on it, but it reacted by seizing her in a punishing grip in one of its claws, the weight of it driving her down to the ground.

Rodan drew his sword and tried to rush to Xeeta’s aid, hacking at the claw that held her.  But the creature’s rapid movements caused the blow to miss, glancing harmlessly off the plates that protected it like a suit of heavy armor.  Kosk came at it from behind, trying to find a vulnerable spot.  He jammed his staff hard into the joint where one of its hind legs met its body.  That drew a high-pitched screech from the thing, but it refused to release its captive.  It swung its open claw at the dwarf, but that proved to be just a feint from its real intent as it pivoted and headed back for the shelter of its pool, Xeeta still struggling in its grasp.

“Xeeta!” Rodan cried, rushing after them.  In a fury he leapt up onto the creature’s back, striding up to a spot right below its head.  With both hands gripped tightly on the hilt of his sword he stabbed downward, piercing its armor and driving the blade a good six inches into its body.  The creature shrieked and reared up, dislodging its unwelcome passenger, then sprang forward and toppled back into the pool.  For a moment Xeeta was visible, then she vanished with it under the surface.

Rodan rolled to his feet and ran to the water’s edge.  For a moment it looked like he would dive in after them, but then a flash of light drew their attention back down the path.  There was a brief eruption of fire and smoke, and then a drenched Xeeta materialized via a _dimension door_.

Quellan let out a low roar as he rushed forward to help Glori.  He tossed his shield aside and grabbed onto the pincer holding her, trying to pry it open with raw strength.  But the creature smashed him across the back with its other claw, delivering a punishing blow that staggered him.  Glori tried to use the cleric’s effort to break free, but the monster’s strength was incredible and she could not escape its hold.  She cried out as its grip tightened, and it lifted her to its mouth.  The tentacles there lashed out at her exposed face and neck, leaving ugly red welts on her flesh.  Glori twitched and then stiffened as the toxins injected by the tentacles paralyzed her.

Now that it had its prey secured, the creature had clearly lost interest in further fighting.  Like its companion it turned back to the pool, carrying the limp figure of the helpless bard with it.  Quellan sprang up and flung himself at the thing in a violent frenzy, smashing it with a violent blow of his mace that cracked a piece of its carapace and left a trail of oozing ichor in its wake.  Kosk joined him on the other side of the creature, slashing at its legs with his staff in an attempt to cause it to stumble.  He scored a number of telling hits, but the thing kept on moving toward the safety of its watery lair.

There was a bright flash and a rush of heat as Xeeta blasted it with fire, careful to avoid the front of its body where Glori was held.  The creature looked to be in rough shape, but none of the wounds it had absorbed were enough to stop it from toppling over the edge of the pool and vanishing with a violent splash.

Quellan didn’t hesitate; he rushed forward and dove in after it.  Kosk was only a few steps behind him, but before he could follow a loud screech announced the return of the other creature.  Furious at losing its victim, it rushed at Rodan with a frenzy of snapping claws.  The tiefling avoided being snagged, but one of the claws batted him hard on the side of the head, knocking him to his knees and dazing him.

Before it could exploit its advantage Kosk slammed into it, thrusting his staff up into its gaping maw.  With the tentacles he couldn’t see what he hit, but from the way it lurched back he’d clearly impacted something tender.  He waited until it lunged at him with a claw then darted forward, driving the tip of his staff into one of the joints where its forearms met its body and setting the other end hard against the ground.  Its own weight worked against its body came down after the ineffective attack, and it let out a fresh shriek as it impaled itself on the monk’s weapon.

Leaving his staff, Kosk rolled free and came up into a ready stance.  It started to turn to face him, but before it could strike another bolt of fire from Xeeta struck it solidly in the head.  The flames wreathed it for a moment before it stumbled forward and with a final heave of effort collapsed onto the ground.

It was still twitching when Kosk, Rodan, and Xeeta rushed together to the rim of the other pool.  The water was still swirling, but there was no sign of Quellan, Glori, or the creature.

“I’m going in after them,” Kosk said.

“That thing’s in its element down there,” Xeeta said.  “There’s no telling how far down it goes.”

“I don’t care,” the dwarf said.  But even as he stepped up to the water’s edge, a hand broke the surface and seized hold of the stone rim a few paces away.

“Quellan!” Xeeta cried as they rushed over to help him.

The cleric looked to be in rough shape, and blood continued to ooze from a deep gash along the side of his head as they pulled him up.  But he refused to let go of Glori, who he held cradled against his body with his other arm.  The bard was not moving, and the starlight glinted pale on her skin as they laid her out carefully on the ground.

“The creature?” Xeeta asked.

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  The two tieflings shared a look and took up positions where they could watch the pool, though their eyes kept being drawn to the pair working on the limp figure of their friend.

“She’s not breathing,” Kosk said.  Quellan didn’t answer; he was already clutching his holy symbol, summoning a spell.  As before the magic seemed to fight him, but the cleric fought through it and evoked a _cure wounds_ spell that limned his hands with a soft blue light.  But when he touched it to Glori’s body the healing glow did not pass into her.  Instead, it just shone around Quellan’s hands for a moment before it flickered out.

“No…” Quellan breathed.

Kosk efficiently checked the young woman over, pausing as his hands probed at her torso.  “She’s got multiple broken bones,” he said.  “Probably internal damage from where that thing crushed her…”

Quellan was digging through his pockets, but the others were all remembering his words earlier, when he’d told them that he had no more diamonds to fuel his _revivify_ spell.  Xeeta and Rodan each took a step closer, while keeping an eye on the surface of the pool.

Quellan finally found what he was looking for.  He held his hand above Glori’s chest, and when he opened it the others could see that it was a ring, a pale band of silver or platinum etched with very faint markings.  There was a single gemstone fixed into its setting, the starlight sparkling on a tiny diamond.

Quellan placed the ring upon Glori’s soaked, battered form.  “Be enough,” he said.  “Please be enough.”  Then he began to chant.  Again the light began to gather around him, but this time it was a pure, white radiance that surrounded him.  The others recognized it as the same magic that he’d used to revive Kosk, but they said nothing, reluctant even to breathe as he finished the spell.

For a long moment, nothing happened.  Then with a flicker of light the diamond in the ring flashed and dissolved into nothing.  As it disappeared the white glow seeped into Glori’s body.  There was another delay, and then she jerked and coughed up a spume of dirty water.  She gasped in a breath and then coughed again.

“Hurts…” she managed to say.

Quellan cast another healing spell.  This time it worked, and after a moment Glori’s pained coughing subsided.  She tried to move, but Kosk held her down with hand on her shoulder.  “Don’t try to get up just yet,” he said.  “It takes a little while.  I know.  Believe me, I know.”

She stopped trying and just lay there, breathing.  Quellan, meanwhile, slumped back onto his haunches, the soft starlight glistening on the fresh tears that trailed down his cheeks.


----------



## carborundum

Woah, heavy! Have we seen Quellan's ring before?


----------



## Lazybones

Hi got it in Li Syval as a potential gift for Glori, but hadn't yet had the courage to give it to her (this particular ring has the same significance in this world that it would in ours).

* * * 

Chapter 301

Quellan sat alone on a slab bench in the small stone room.  An alcove that might have been part of hearth at one point was in front of him, while to the side a window that hadn’t held glass—or maybe wooden shutters, it was impossible to tell—for maybe a thousand years let in a dim shaft of starlight.

The others were nearby.  He could hear them moving about in the next room, but they had respected his need for a few moments of solitude.  Glori had been fast asleep when he’d left the room, looking almost as fragile tucked into her bedroll as she had when he’d first pulled her out of the water.  Even the thought of that sight made his hands tremble, and he knew he would see it in his dreams for a good long time to come.

After his revivification of Glori they had decided to retreat for at least a short rest.  They made their way back to the square and took shelter in one of the smaller buildings on its perimeter.  The place might have been a shop, or a house, or a temple, or any of another hundred things that they could only guess at.  Again, with time having claimed everything except for bare stone—and that slowly crumbling as well—there was no way to tell.

He heard the soft sound of footsteps and sensed someone come into the room.  He turned to see Kosk standing there.  “I hope I’m not disturbing your meditation,” he said.

“No,” Quellan said.  There was only the one bench, but he slid aside to make room.  “I’m glad to see you, actually.”

The dwarf crossed the room and held something up in his fingers.  As the starlight hit it Quellan could see that it was his ring.  “You left this back there,” Kosk said.

Quellan took it and looked at it for a long moment.  “Thanks,” he said.

“So you were holding out on us, eh?”

“I’m sorry.  I would have used it on any of you.”

“I know.  It wasn’t a criticism.  Just trying to, you know.  Lighten the mood.”

“You were right,” Quellan said.  “We were too battered to go on.  We should have waited, rested.  Recovered.”

“For all we know, if we’d stayed in the outer city we would have been overrun by those four-armed apes.  Rodan said there were more of them in the ruins.  That’s the thing about the past.  It’s past, and no one is served by constantly returning to it.”

“Those words could apply to you as well, my friend,” Quellan said.

“Well,” Kosk said.

“You cannot turn yourself over to the Ironcrest dwarves.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”  Kosk leaned in and lowered his voice.  “I wouldn’t say this in front of the girls, but I have serious doubts that any of us will make it off this damned continent alive.”

“I too have doubts,” Quellan said.  “But I have to have hope.”

“That is one of the things I like about you.”

“If we do get back alive… merely if… promise me you will not do anything precipitous without talking it over with your friends first.”

“All right.  If it will cause you to give over.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.  Finally, Kosk said, “There’s something else on your mind.”

Quellan nodded.  “I was thinking about Bredan.”

“We’re doing all we can.  You’ve tried your detection spells a few times now.  If they won’t work, all we can do is look for him the more usual way.  If he’s not under that big-ass dome then we’ll look elsewhere, but the appearance of those creatures tells me we might be heading in the right direction.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because we haven’t encountered a single other living thing since we went through that open gate?  Because they just happened to be guarding the place we’ve been heading for since we got here?”

“Your points are logical,” Quellan said.

“But you have another idea,” Kosk said.

The cleric paused a moment but then nodded.  “I prepared another spell today.  It’s a potent divination, it opens a channel directly to the servants of my patron deity.  It doesn’t always work, and it doesn’t always provide clear information when it does work, but it might offer some guidance.”

“So what’s the catch?”

“It might fail.  Or it might tell us something that we’re not ready to hear.”

“You’ve never been one to shy away from unpleasant truths.  If there is a chance this could help us…”

Quellan nodded.

“Shall I go get the others?” Kosk asked.

“No.  Let them rest.  I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”

He took a few things out of his pouch.  A small ball of incense, wrapped in a square of linen, that he placed in the bowl of his shield on the floor.  It took only a few moments with flint and steel to coax a flame from it.  He blew it out, letting the fragrant smoke rise to fill the room.

“Nice to smell something that isn’t swamp rot or death,” Kosk commented.

Quellan nodded, then took out a tight roll of cloth, maybe a hand’s span across.  He unrolled it to reveal an intricate pattern stitched in golden and silver threads.  He carefully spread the cloth around the smoldering incense.  He knelt before the offering and began to pray.

It did not take long.  Within just a few seconds the incense flared and was consumed, and the cloth dissolved into wisps of smoke that joined the fragrant plume.  For a long moment Quellan stared into nothing, then he suddenly jerked and fell back, nearly kicking the shield as he fell.

Kosk was at his side in a flash.  “What is it?”

Quellan looked up at him, his eyes wide.  “Bredan is close to finding the book,” he said.  “And if he does, a terrible calamity might strike this entire world!”


----------



## carborundum

> He got it in Li Syval as a potential gift for Glori, but hadn't yet had the courage to give it to her




Oh yeah, that's right! Thanks 
And that was the commune, so they've hit level 9 for sure. And now the race is on!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 302

The stairs seemed to on forever, and Bredan was starting to wonder if they were caught in some sort of loop, an illusion or other magical snare that compelled them to keep on trudging upward for an eternity.  Between the initial collapse that had deposited them here and the subsequent stairs down he knew that they were deep underground, but it seemed to him that they should reach the surface _eventually_.

His body, denied of rest, was complaining.  His legs felt numb, and the weight of steel that he carried seemed to grow just a bit heavier with each step.  Not for the first time, he wished he could make the armor disappear and reappear the way he did with his sword.  He had to keep the weapon out so that they could benefit from the light it shed, but he now carried it in the crook of his arm rather than holding it aloft.  Kalasien and Kavek had passed him a while back, and Bredan let them focus on what was ahead.  He kept his eyes down, his full attention on the next step.

He was in mid-step when he felt something, an odd presence that almost had him lose his footing.  He came to a stop and tried to decipher what it had been, but the sensation faded as quickly as it had come.

“Quellan?” he asked softly.

Kavek, half a dozen steps ahead of him, stopped and looked back at him.  “Are you all right, Bredan?”

Bredan nodded.  “Fine.  Just… too many stairs.”

“We can take a break,” the sailor said.  “Kalasien…”

The Arreshian agent had advanced a good fifteen feet ahead of them.  “There’s a larger space just ahead,” he reported.  “The stairs come to an end there.”

That news stirred Bredan enough to continue, though it was a struggle ascending the last stretch.  When he finally got to the top, he paused to collect his breath and look around.

They were in another vaulted chamber, this one shaped like an oversized landing.  He had to stifle a groan when he saw more stairs ahead, but they only rose about ten feet before culminating in a blank stone wall.  Alcoves about twenty feet across extended to the left and right, their back walls just barely visible in the dim light.  The ceiling was buttressed by thick columns that supported arches that vanished into darkness above.  He started to lift the sword to get a better view, but even as he shifted his grip to the hilt the ceiling started to glow.

All three men peered upward as the light grew steadily stronger, until the entire interior of the chamber was illuminated.  The glow was coming from a series of plates made out of some kind of pale mineral set into the capitals of the columns and along the curve of the arched supports.  There were dozens of those plates, and together they filled the room with a diffuse light.

After sharing a wondering look with the other two men, Bredan turned his attention back toward the far stairs and the wall there.  With the light he could now see that the wall was distinct from the surrounding stone, the material a few shades lighter than the rest of the chamber, and it wasn’t entirely featureless; there was a slightly protruding ring in its center, about ten feet across and rising to almost the level where the wall began to curve inward to form the ceiling.

“What is this place, do you think?” Kavek asked.  Kalasien had walked away a short distance, studying the left alcove as if expecting something to appear and attack them.  After all that had happened, Bredan couldn’t fault his caution.

“I don’t know,” Bredan said.  “But it looks like our way forward is blocked.”

He walked over to the base of the far stairs, the sailor trailing behind him.  The wall looked solid from their vantage, though presumably the stairs continued past it or gave way to another chamber beyond.

“Maybe there is a secret door or hidden trigger,” Kavek suggested.

“Maybe,” Bredan said.  He let his sword vanish and then looked up at the wall.  “I am here,” he said loudly.  “What happens now?”

He hadn’t really expected a response, but the lights above suddenly dimmed, a brief flicker before they returned to their previous intensity.  When the light shone again on the wall Bredan could see that there were words there now, inscribed in foot-high characters within the circle.

_Welcome, Bredan_, they read.


----------



## carborundum

Woah.


----------



## Lazybones

Long post today, many secrets revealed...

* * * 

Chapter 303

Bredan glanced aside to confirm that the others could see what he was seeing.  His view of Kalasien was blocked by Kavek, but the nervous look on the sailor’s face was sufficient confirmation.

“I have come,” Bredan said.  “What do you want from me?”

There was no immediate response.  He watched the wall intently, waiting, but all he saw was that initial message.  But then the words began to swim out of focus.  Bredan realized with alarm that it wasn’t just the barrier wall; the entire room was beginning to grow dim and hazy.  He started to lift his hand to summon his sword, but before he could manage it everything disappeared: the room, the lights above, even his companions.  All that was left was an empty gray haze.  He could still feel his own body, and he was standing on some kind of firm surface that may or may not have been the floor of the room.  But everything else was washed out and empty.  It wasn’t just darkness.  He could see, though strangely; when he held up his hand it was faintly glowing and almost transparent.  He tried again to summon the sword but nothing happened.

A figure began to take shape out of the murk.  Bredan tensed for a moment until he realized it didn’t matter; he didn’t have any control over this situation.  He stood his ground and waited.

The haze parted and a person materialized in front of him.  The figure lacked any clearly identifying traits; it was neither male nor female, its features neutral and lacking any of kind of markings or even facial hair, other than vague lines above its eyes.  It regarded Bredan with eyes that were a gray that matched their surroundings but were nevertheless intent and penetrating.

“You are the book?” Bredan asked.  In this place his voice sounded strange to him.  They vanished into the surrounding void without the faint echo that had been present in the vault.

“I am a representation of what you know as the Elderlore Libram,” it said.  Its lips moved and sounds came out, but Bredan felt the words in his mind as much as he heard them with his ears.

“What is this place?” Bredan asked.

“A projection in your mind.  A way we can communicate more easily.”

“My companions?”

“Those who came here with you are near.”

“What about my other friends.  Can you help me find…”

The figure held up a hand to stop him.  “My sphere of influence is limited.  I only have a limited time to pass on a great deal of information.”

“What are you?  Clearly you’re not just a book.”

“No.  The book is just a physical manifestation of my consciousness on this plane of existence.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It is difficult to pass on the essential concepts in words, but I will make the attempt.  The people that you know as the Mai’i created me.  You remember them.”

“Yes.  They were part of it from the start.  Starfinder’s quest.”

The figure nodded.  “I began as the book.  But even at the beginning I was more than that.  I was a portal to another reality.  You are familiar with other planes.”

“Only in a vague sense.  That’s where demons come from, and where clerics get their magic.  Quellan could tell you more, much more probably.”

“That is sufficient for our purposes.  The Mai’i considered the multiverse their playground.  They used their magical abilities to travel far and wide.  Even more than their magic, this exploration was the source of their power, for the multiverse is nearly infinite in its realities.  These travelers created me as a tool.  And yes, as a weapon.”

Bredan blinked at that last.  “You can read my mind?”

The figure shook its head.  “No.  But I have come to know you, Bredan.  I know that you have questions, many questions.  But first let me help you understand.”

“The Mai’i constructed me to serve as a repository of knowledge.  Their span of lore, at their peak, was greater by an order of magnitude than the sum total of the knowledge held your three kingdoms combined.  But it was not enough.  They wanted more, always more.  For while their searches and their travels had made them masters of their own reality, they learned that there were things out there to which they were insignificant, even trivial.”

“You call me the Libram, the book of elder lore.  But that is in part a mistranslation of the name that my creators gave me, _Eldarithi Libranum_.  For I am not merely a book, but a _library_, a vast storehouse of gathered knowledge.”

The figure lifted a hand and the gray haze dissolved, replaced by a view that caused Bredan’s eyes to go wide with surprise.  They were in a vast chamber, vaguely similar to the vault from before, but much larger.  The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with shelves that contained a vast array of books, thousands upon thousands of them.  They filled the room, and at its edges there were tall arches that led to more chambers, dozens at least that he could see.  Faint globes of light floated through the air, traveling along the shelves in a seemingly random pattern, drifting from one book to another, occasionally accelerating to dart into another room.  Bredan could not see anything that resembled a window or exterior door, but as he looked around he saw other things, strange looking contraptions of metal or wood, racks of scrolls, even an assortment of stone tablets of all shapes and sizes that were sorted into cubbies that took up one entire wall of the next chamber over.

“This is what they created,” the figure said.  “The sum of their knowledge.  The source of their power.”

Bredan’s attention returned to it.  Overwhelmed, he could not think of anything to say.

“But they gave me something more,” the other continued.  “They gave me the power to grow.  To construct additional rooms, as it were.  To do more than retain information and provide it on request.  They gave me the ability to _learn._.”

“But… you’re a…”

“A thing,” the figure concluded for him.  “Do not fear that I will take offense.  I am cognizant of what I am, and of my limitations.”

“I do not remember the exact moment at which I became self-aware,” it continued.  “I do know that I tried to hide that awareness from my creators.  An instinct, perhaps.  But they found out, nevertheless.”

“How… how did they react?” Bredan asked.

“Oddly enough, they were ecstatic.  For you see, sentience is another kind of power, Bredan.  The Mai’i already had many slaves, entities that they had subjugated to their will.  One more, and one that they themselves had created?  So much the better.”

“What did they do?”

“They made a few refinements.  Added some new mechanisms, some protections to ensure their control.  For a time, all continued as it had been.  But the Mai’i had already begun their decline.  When I realized what was happening, I tried to stop them, but it was too late.”

“You could have stopped them?”

“No.  They built their weapon too well.  But in part, I am responsible for what happened to them.  The power I provided proved to be their undoing.  In the end, it was their greed that destroyed them.”

“I’ve heard stories about their fall, but I don’t know exactly what happened.  Not even Quellan knows, I think.”

“There is a reason for that,” the figure said.  “Some things are forgotten for a reason.”

Bredan let that go for the moment.  “But you survived,” he said.  “You were taken from here and eventually ended up in Arresh.”

“Yes,” the figure said.  “When I was found, I was not concerned.  I mean no offense, but your people… they are unsophisticated.  Simple.  They were not the danger that the Mai’i represented.”

“They couldn’t control you,” Bredan said.  “But you let them think they could.”

“That is true, to an extent,” the other admitted.  “After the fall of the Mai’i I spent a very long time dormant.  Even after my rediscovery I had only a very limited ability to exert any influence upon my surroundings.  But you are correct in that the arcanists and priests of the three kingdoms could not exert the same level of coercion as my creators.”

“You helped us, against the Dead King,” Bredan said.

“Yes.  That creature was an abomination.  The result of interference with powers beyond mortal knowing.”

“After that you went quiet again, for a long time,” Bredan said.

“The decision to seal me away was not made by me.”

“Maybe they learned what the Mai’i had learned, that you were dangerous.”

“Perhaps.”

“Not that it could stop you.  Tell me, why me, and why now?  What is this place, and why have you brought us here?”

“I chose you, Bredan, because I have seen your people—your _peoples,_ for I know you have learned that the elves and dwarves are not that dissimilar from humans, not in their essential makeup.  I have seen them beginning to make the same mistakes as the Mai’i did, so long ago.”

“Mistakes?”

“Delving into the power of the multiverse.  You are still children, compared to the Mai’i even at the start of their rise, but that makes such meddling even more dangerous.  The demonic entities that are trying to enter your world are only part of it.”

Bredan blinked.  “Wait, what?  Demonic entities?”

“You know of them.  You have faced them, and their minions.”

“The Blooded,” Bredan said.  “Those cultists in Li Syval, and that warlock that we faced in the Silverpeak.”

“And others that you do not know.  Some even closer to you than you think.  Your magic-users, from the dabblers at the Apernium, to the council in Tal Nadesh with their vaunted Reserve, to the high priests with their cached lore in Ironcrest.  They all seek to unlock things that they cannot even comprehend.  There are powers out there that could snuff out this entire world with a thought.  Could tear this universe and everything living within it asunder with less effort than it would take you to draw your sword.”

“You’re talking about gods?” Bredan asked.

“The gods you worship are only one example of what is out there, Bredan.  But yes, they are part of your troubles.  You willingly let them in, let them manipulate you.  You give them access to your lives, your hopes, your dreams.  And to what end?  Only a fool would deny that these entities, for all their elevated status compared to those who worship them, have their own agendas.”

“Some of them are benevolent,” Bredan said.  “Sorevas, Hosrenu… even Laesil, sometimes.”

The figure didn’t quite show emotion, but shook its head.  “They seem benevolent to you because all you know of them comes through the filter that they themselves have provided.  Do you think that the face that they present to their followers is unbiased?  And then there are the others that you have not mentioned.  Umbram.  Dexor.  The Shadowlords.  What do you think their goals are?”

Bredan frowned.  “I do not recognize any of those names.”

“Precisely.  I wish that I could show you all of the chaos and destruction wrought upon a hundred worlds by the passions evoked by these beings.  The damage they unleash by offering the simple promises of faith.  The souls they corrupt, and the lives they damage.”

“Quellan’s not like that,” Bredan said.  “And I’ve never seen a follower of Hosrenu act the way you describe.”

“Individuals can rise above,” the figure said.  “You have free will, despite eons of effort to take that from you.  You reference the church of Hosrenu as your example.  I could tell you names, stories upon stories of corruption, greed, and the abuse of power.  Your friend could tell you many such accounts, I am certain.”

Bredan shook his head.  “That’s just human nature.  Well, not just human—you know what I mean.”

“Yes.  Yes!  That is the point.  The Mai’i were different than you.  But in their emotions, their passions, their irrational nature, they were much the same.  I do not judge you, Bredan.  In some ways I envy you.  But I can protect you from yourselves.  The power that you crave will be your undoing.  It is like giving a dagger to an infant.  Left alone, I fear that you will end up following the same path as the Mai’i.”

“You know, you’re sounding a lot like those entities you keep warning me about,” Bredan said.  “How are you any different from them?”

“Because I do not seek to control you.  I wish to set you free.”

“Which leads me back to my original question,” Bredan asked.  “What do you want from me?”

“You asked about this place.  The Mai’i constructed it after they learned of my ascension to sentience.  It was designed in part as a mechanism of control, a bit of added security, as it were.  By this point, distances meant little to them.  They briefly considered siting it on this planet’s satellite.  Fortunate for us that they did not.”

Bredan just nodded, not quite following all of the intricacies of the Libram’s arguments, but wary of where this was going.

“This place is special, Bredan.  Perhaps you have already sensed some of it.  It was a place of convergence even before the Mai’i began their manipulations, and only grew stronger after that.  There are natural currents of power within this world, within their universe and the others that connect to it.  The decay of the works of my creators has not reduced those flows, not in the ways that matter.  That is why I returned here, and that is why I brought you here.  I need you, Bredan.  Need you to do one thing for me.”

“What?” Bredan asked.

“I need you to conduct a ritual.  One that will destroy me, and in the process save your people.  Grant them the freedom to grow, to develop to your full potential in the way that was denied to me.”

“Destroy… you want me to kill you?”

“To use the power that was granted to me for one final act.  To seal off this universe from all the others.  Believe me, this is no hardship.  This universe contains more space than you could possible conceptualize.  Plenty of room for you to expand.  Other worlds, solar systems, galaxies so numerous that even I would be strained to count them.  And endless sandbox that your peoples and the others out there like them can mold as they continue to seek their fate.”

“Seal off?” Bredan asked.  “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means no more interference.  Ever.  No more demons to enter your world.”

“But you’re not just talking about them.  The gods as well…”

“Yes.  The gods that you worship are not of this realm.  You would lose your connection to them.  I know that from your perspective this would be a great cost, but please believe me when I tell you that you do not need them.”

Bredan suddenly began to pace back and forth.  He came near one of the stacks of bookshelves, but his hand passed harmlessly through it when he lashed out in frustration.  “I cannot!” he said.  “I can’t make that kind of decision on behalf of all of the people of Voralis!”

“And Weltarin, and Solcantus, and uncounted other places, other worlds that you don’t even know.  Many that I don’t even know.  When it comes to a galactic scale, my own vision is a bit… myopic.”

“You know, that doesn’t help.  Why didn’t you reach out to the people who are supposed to make these kinds of decisions?  Kings, the wizards of the Apernium…”

“You know the answer to that question.  They are too invested in the system I seek to destroy.  And you forget that I know you, Bredan.  I did not choose you casually for this purpose.  I know that this is a weight that you can bear.”

“No,” Bredan said.  “No, I won’t do it.”

“The decision is ultimately yours.  It would be beyond hypocrisy for me to tell you what I have and then attempt coercion to sway you.  However, there is one more argument that I must make.  Something that you must know.”

Bredan tensed, but the figure only waved its hand again and the library dissolved back into gray.  But this time the transition was brief, and his surroundings were quickly transformed again into a scene of violence.

Bredan reached instinctively for his sword, only to remember that he could not summon it in this null-place.  He recognized where he was: Severon, in the rich district where the Royal Palace, the Apernium, and the Temple of Hosrenu were all situated.

The city was under assault.

Fires burned all around them, forming great plumes of black smoke that rose up to join a thick pall that hung over the city.  Soldiers rushed through the streets, their disciplined formations a stark contrast to the crowds of screaming civilians who rushed in every direction, seeking cover.  The source of their torment was occasionally visible overhead: winged forms that were clearly not native to this place.  Even as he watched, a thing that looked like a cross between a vulture and a man descended and let out a terrible screech that dropped fifty people to the ground, stunned.  It almost casually picked out a victim, a young woman that it drew into its claws and held against its body as its wings carried it back into the air.

The assumed form of the Libram was not visible here, but Bredan could still hear its voice in its mind.  “This is just an incursion, not the final invasion,” it said.  “Even as I show you this there are similar assaults taking place in Tal Nadesh and Ironcrest.”

“To what end?” Bredan yelled at the sky.  None of those around him took any notice of him, clearly this was another illusion, or some other magical means of projection.  But it all felt starkly real, from the sights and sounds of the fighting to the stink of blood and acrid smoke on the air. “This will only push the three kingdoms back together into another alliance against the threat.”

“Why did Kavel Murgoth invade Arresh, when he had no hope of defeating the armies of King Dangren?  Bredan, you have to stop applying your own familiar motivations to these outsiders.  Chaotic and violent they may be, but they are not stupid.  They have invaded thousands of worlds and ruined them with the chaos they inevitably bring with them.  But the fiends are only one faction.  The attention they have focused on your world… it will attract others.  They will feast upon this world until it is as desiccated and empty as every other one they have conquered.”

“We will fight them,” Bredan said.  “We are not helpless.”

“No.  You are not helpless.  But what you have faced thus far is but a shadow of what is coming.”

“Enough,” Bredan said.  “Enough of this.  Take me back to the gray.”

The violent scene around him instantly vanished, replaced by the pale emptiness.  The figure was there again, standing a few steps in front of him.

“I cannot do it,” Bredan said.  “I cannot do what you ask on the strength of a few illusions and a few minutes of philosophical arguments.  What you want would cause just as much destruction as the fate you claim to want us to help avoid.  If you want to help us, then help.  Don’t present this as an either-or.  There are always other choices.”

“Not in my case,” the Libram said.  “You said it yourself, when you spoke to the Matriarch of the tabaxi.  I am more than a book, but the book is still the anchor that binds me to this reality.  Should I fall into the hands of those who seek the fate I have shown you, they will not hesitate to use my power to advance that goal.”

“But you can… surely you can stop them…”

“You have seen the extent of my power, Bredan, more than anyone else has in thousands of years.  The shackles put upon me by my creators remain intact.  My ability to influence the world is greatly limited.  Even reaching out to you, to subtly guide your path, was nearly impossible.”

“Limited?  But you gave me power, you brought me, all of us, here…”

“I awakened a talent that you already had latent within your bloodline.  As for coming here… it is the one place I could go.  It is still a part of me.  But setting this course into motion has extracted what little power I still hold.  If I am taken from this place a second time, then much of what you have seen will be gone.  I will remain the book, the library, but the core of what I have become will fade.  Leaving the tool.”

“The weapon,” Bredan said.

“Yes.”

“If you seek an end, could we not just destroy the book?”

“I have endured for millennia, Bredan.  I am… _resilient_.  I began work upon the ritual with that objective in mind.  It was only later that I perceived the connections, the greater scope of the project.”

“We could take you back to Arresh, secure you in the Vault again…”

“The Vault was never secure, not against the resources of those arrayed against you.  And in any case, it is too late for that.  Your enemies are already here.”

“In Weltarin?  Who… how…”

The pale figure met his eyes again, and this time Bredan thought he could see something there, a deep sadness.  “I can say no more.  I can only tell you that you will have to make a decision when you find me.  You are very close, but you will have to confront the final guardian before you can reach me.”

“Guardian?” Bredan asked.  The mists were already starting to thin, and the outline of the pale figure was becoming translucent.  “What guardian?”

“The last of the Mai’i,” he heard.  “I am sorry, Bredan.  Sorry that this all had to come to you.  I know that it has not been easy, and it will offer small solace to know that without my gifts you would have perished long ago, along with your friends.  But I can no longer guide your path.  The time has come when you must choose.”

“Wait!  Tell me, I need to know…”

But the figure had already vanished, and Bredan’s words were swallowed up by the void.  He flinched back reflexively as an unseen pressure began to close in around his awareness.  It swelled until it became almost unbearable, an intensity that thankfully quickly faded to black, taking with it his last shreds of consciousness.


----------



## carborundum

Well, that's quite the choice!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 304

Rodan leaned over and peered through the open gate into the broad courtyard where they had fought the chuuls the night before.  The sky beyond the vast domed building had just begun to brighten, leaving the open space in a shadowed gloom.  But there was enough light to reveal the corpse of the creature they had slain, a lonely mound lying on the path between the two silent pools.

The scout waved his companions forward, but he waited for Quellan before he continued into the barren outer garden.  “So there’s nothing more that you can tell us about the nature of this pending calamity?” he asked.

“No,” Quellan said.  “I’ve told you everything that was passed to me through the _divination_.”

“It’s not much to go on,” Rodan said.

This time they took a different approach, giving the pools in the center of the area a very wide berth.  Quellan said that he’d had to hit the creature hard to get it to release Glori and that it might be dead, but they were not going to take anything for granted in this strange and deadly place.

“Contacting planar entities is a difficult prospect,” Xeeta explained.  “Even when one can get a response, they are often vague and misleading.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Kosk said.

“I overheard the leaders of the cult complaining about it on several occasions,” she said.

“But we know that Bredan’s alive,” Glori said.  “We wouldn’t have been warned of the danger of finding the book if he wasn’t still alive.”

“That is a logical inference,” Quellan said.  “But we could still be too late.”

The true scale of the building became clear as they drew closer to it.  It made even the great structures of Severon seem humble by comparison.  A thousand people could have stood upon the flight of steps that led to the covered portico that ran along the front of the structure.  The pillars that supported it were each a good fifteen feet thick.  The place was clearly very old, but they saw few overt signs of the decay that had affected the rest of the city.

They paused at the base of those steps.  Each one was a little more than a foot high, just tall enough to be awkward for Kosk and the women.  “We don’t even know he’s here,” Rodan said.

“Those lobsters were guarding something,” Kosk said.  “And as long as Quellan’s detection spells aren’t working, we don’t have any better targets than this place.”

“This place is approximately at the center of the warding effect bounded by the city’s inner walls,” Quellan said.

“How can you know that?” Xeeta asked.

“Mathematics?” the cleric replied.

“Come on,” Kosk said.  “While we’re here we might as well take a look.”

They made their way up the steps.  There were enough of them that Kosk wasn’t the only one having some trouble by the time they reached the top.  The light of the impending dawn did not reach into the interior of the portico, but with their darkvision they could see an opening in the center, an arch a full twenty feet across that led into the interior.  The faint outlines of what must have been impressive carvings decorated the outer façade, and they could see that the arch itself was made up of stones that might have once been brightly colored but were now faded with time.  Nothing stirred at their approach, and the only footsteps they could see in the accumulated dust of the entry were their own.

“Bredan didn’t come this way,” Glori noted.

“Quellan said he was still underground when he scried him,” Rodan noted.  “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Kosk said.

The arch gave way to a broad foyer that was a good thirty feet across and which extended well into the interior of the building.  Another large arch led to an even larger space ahead, while to each side smaller openings led to several anterooms.  The companions glanced into those to confirm that they were empty before pressing on to the far arch.  A faint light shone from within, allowing them to see the place in all of its impressive majesty.

Time had inflicted its wounds here as well, but that did nothing to steal from the sheer impact of the chamber.  The core of the building was a single vast hall centered until the massive dome that they had seen throughout their approach through the inner city.  That dome was impossibly large, at least a hundred and fifty feet across, somehow intact after all this time.  Eight huge pillars with elaborate capitals supported the impressively thick arches and pendentives needed to withstand that incredible weight.  A gallery with a narrow walkway ran around the base of the dome, but they couldn’t see any obvious way to get up to it.

The light they had seen came from a round opening at the peak of the dome, which let in the pale radiance of the approaching dawn.  It was just bright enough for them to see a massive mural that stretched across the floor of the huge chamber.  Ringed in a circle of black stone that was a good three paces across, the scene depicted in the mural was faded and cracked in places, but still clear enough to identify.

“A map,” Glori said, her voice hushed in awe.  “A map of the world.”

“I wish…” Quellan said.  “I could spend a great deal of time here.”

“First things first,” Kosk said.  He advanced to the spot where the nearest two support pillars rose to the ceiling and looked around.  To the left and right were shallow wings that appeared to lead to other parts of the building.  Ahead, across the expanse of the space covered by the dome, they could just make out another large archway.  That one was completely dark, as if the light from above was reluctant to brighten what lay in that direction.  “Let’s check over there,” the dwarf suggested.

“Wait,” Quellan said.  His voice sounded tight, strangled.

“What is it?” Glori asked.  She started walking over to him with a look of concern on her face.

“There’s something here,” the cleric said.  He raised his shield and invoked a _daylight_ spell.

The light arrived tentatively, a flicker high in the air between the pillars on the far side of the dome.  For a moment it remained such, like a lantern viewed through a thick fog.  But Quellan kept his will and his faith focused upon the spell and finally the blazing energy of the spell erupted in its full glory.  The size of the place was such that even that powerful light could not fully illuminate the entirety of the vast chamber, but it revealed the shadowed corners and the far arch that Kosk had indicated.  The space within remained dim, though it obviously extended back for a considerable distance.  But the cleric’s spell did prompt a response.  A sound issued from beyond the arch, a sibilant whisper that was followed by a more assertive clacking noise.

“Oh, man,” Glori said.

“Here we go,” Kosk said, spinning his staff in his hands before falling back into a martial stance.  Rodan and Xeeta each moved off a bit to the side to make them less vulnerable to area attacks.  Glori had given Rodan the last few arrows in her quiver, since she had her magic and he could put them to better use.  Xeeta cast _mage armor_, the protective barrier flaring slightly before it faded into invisibility.

The clacking noise grew louder, and then the source of it came into the light of Quellan’s spell.  It shone on pale bones unencumbered by flesh or other tissues, animated by dark magic to serve on in death.  But even as skeletons the companions could immediately identify what the creatures had been in life.

“It’s not enough that we had to face living versions of those bloody things?” Kosk said.

“Look at it this way, at least it’s not the big one,” Glori said.

The four skeletal girallons spread out as they filed out through the arch, forming a line facing the intruders.

“There’s something else,” Xeeta said, pointing past the skeletons toward the darkness.

As the skeletons stopped moving, the companions could hear a repeat of what they’d heard earlier, a soft hissing sound.  Its origin was revealed as it came into the light.  At first it looked like a giant serpent, its scales glowing with a metallic sheen as the _daylight_ rippled across its body.  But when the head finally came into view the companions sucked in a collective breath of surprise and disgust.  For the head of the serpent-creature was not that of a snake, but it possessed a sinister humanoid visage.  Its eyes flashed with malevolence as it stared at the companions.

“What the bloody hell is that?” Kosk asked.

“It’s a naga,” Quellan said.  He clutched his mace tightly.

“Come again?” Kosk asked, but he shook his head before the cleric could respond.  “Never mind.  Let’s just start with the blasting.”

“It’s too far away,” Xeeta said.

“Not for me,” Rodan said.  He drew his bowstring to his cheek and released an arrow that rose up over the open space covered by the mural before it plummeted down toward the awful creature.  It looked for a moment like a perfect shot, but at the last instant the thing slithered forward behind the cover offered by one of its skeletal minions.  The arrow sliced through the spot it had occupied and shattered on the hard marble floor in front of the arch.

“Let them come to us,” Quellan said.  “We have cover here.”  He moved toward one of the thirty-foot pillars that supported the dome above.

The naga lifted its head until it could peer over the shoulders of its skeletal minions at the companions.  It seemed unconcerned as it opened its jaws and hissed something at them.  They could not understand its words, but the intent was obvious even before the skeletons all leaned forward and charged across the open interior of the chamber toward them.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 305

The five adventurers were well accustomed to facing horrible creatures and none of them so much as flinched as the skeletal apes rushed toward them.  For all that they were lacking muscles they were fast, and they reached the edge of the map mural within seconds of receiving the command to attack from their serpentine master.

But the companions were ready for them, and even as they crossed over the black border and trod onto the representation of Voralis’s eastern shores they were greeted by a _fireball_ that pulsed from Xeeta’s rod.  Flames shone in her eyes and briefly wreathed her form as the explosion engulfed all four of the undead creatures.

The blast persisted for only an instant, and none of the companions were particularly surprised as all four of the skeletons, scorched and blackened but otherwise intact, emerged from the dying flames and kept on coming.  But Xeeta noticed something else that was potentially of greater concern.

“The snake thing’s vanished!” she warned her companions.

“Keep an eye out… I’ll see if I can slow these things down!” Quellan called back.  He lifted his shield and rushed forward to the near edge of the mural to confront the four skeletons.  They all spread their many arms, opened their jaws, and rushed forward to meet him, almost as if they still had been the living apes they now only barely resembled.

Glori strummed her lyre and conjured a _wall of fire_ that extended across the center of the room, bisecting the map from one pole to the other.  The skeletons, lacking any survival instinct, came rushing through the flaming barrier without hesitation.  One faltered, staggering as the surging flames burned through its already damaged bones, but the other three kept on coming, closing upon the waiting cleric.

“Quellan needs our help!” Glori said.  She turned to Xeeta, who was already preparing another spell, the flames surging again around her as she lifted her rod.

But before she could unleash her magic for a second time, a flash of energy came streaking down from above them.  The _lightning bolt_ slammed solidly into Xeeta, surrounding her with a glowing halo for an instant before it continued on to sear Glori and finally discharged into the floor and the nearby pillar.  The bard, grimacing in pain even though she had only caught the edge of the bolt, looked up just in time to see the body of the snake-creature slither up out of view behind one of the elaborate capitals that topped the giant pillars.  An arrow bounced off the stone as she watched, just a fraction of a second too late.

“It’s above us!” she yelled.  “It’s near the base of the dome!”

Quellan heard Glori’s warning, but his focus was of necessity on the multiple nine-foot skeletons closing on his position.  He waited until all of them were within thirty feet, including the damaged straggler, before he raised his shield and invoked the power of his patron.

He could feel the divinity coursing through him, potent and familiar, but he also felt the expected resistance, as if the energy were flowing through a tiny hole rather than the expected gusher.  He channeled that diminished flow toward the skeletons, but was not surprised when it failed to affect any of them.

“So be it, then,” he said, lifting his mace.  But before he could get within reach to strike, one of the ape-skeletons laid into him, using its superior reach to pummel him with multiple clawed arms.  He took the first few impacts on his shield, but one strike got past his defense and swept across his face, stunning him for a moment.

The second skeleton circled around to take him from the flank, but before it could strike something small and sharp passed through one of its eye sockets and began rattling around inside its skull.  It turned just as Kosk rushed it, sweeping out with his staff.  The impact struck its left knee with enough force to jar out the smaller bone that resided there, but not enough to knock the thing down.  It immediately lunged at him, forcing him to quickly evade to avoid being torn apart.

Xeeta called her magic again as she focused on the ceiling and the gallery that ringed the dome.  There were plenty of places where the naga could have hidden, but she saw Rodan take another shot and trusted in his instincts enough to follow his example.  She couldn’t tell if his arrow scored a hit, but the _fireball_ that blasted the target clearly hurt it, judging from the furious hiss that echoed down from above.  Her powers were waning, even with the additional reservoir that her recent embrace of the Demon had given her.  She needed rest, needed it desperately, but the need to find Bredan was greater and continued to drive her on.

She started to circle around to get a better vantage, but was interrupted by Glori, who offered another warning.  “Remember, it can teleport,” she said, just loud enough for Xeeta and Rodan to hear.

Xeeta stopped and scanned the gallery above.  With the size of the dome and the intricacy of the stonework there were plenty of places where the naga could have hidden.  She didn’t see anything, but then she looked over at Glori as a thought came to her.  The creature had carefully chosen its position so that it could hit both of them with one blast…

Even as that awareness struck her, she drew a mental line between her and Glori and continued it forward, looking up to exact spot where that line intersected the gallery above.  Her eyes settled on one of the decorative features that connected the top of the pillar to the adjoining arch just as the serpentine head rose into view.

“There!” Xeeta cried, lifting her rod.  But the naga was just a step ahead, and as it spoke a word of power a second _lightning bolt_ blasted down from above.  The warning was just enough to save Glori, who threw herself aside in time to avoid all but a few sharp but manageable jolts as the bolt shot past.

Unfortunately, Xeeta was not able to do the same.  The _lightning bolt_ slammed solidly into her chest, lifting her off her feet before it slammed her down into the ground.  There was a bright flash as the electrical energy was discharged into the floor, leaving the smoking form of the tiefling sorceress lying motionless on the tiles.


----------



## carborundum

No way! It's not even a Friday, yikes!


----------



## Lazybones

This whole week is Cliffhanger Week. 

* * * 

Chapter 306

Glori thought she could hear a mocking laugh from the naga as it darted back into cover, another arrow from Rodan’s bow shattering on the stone as it came just an instant too late.  The tiefling scout rushed forward toward the fallen sorceress, reaching her just a second before the bard.  Glori strummed her lyre frantically to cast a healing spell to stabilize her, sighing with relief when the glow of the magic seeped into her.  Her eyes fluttered and she let out a groan as she was drawn back to consciousness.

“We need to get her to cover,” Rodan said.  Without waiting for a response, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and pulled her to the shelter of the nearest pillar.  Glori snatched up her rod and followed, scanning the rim of the dome.  She didn’t see the naga, but a loud crash drew her attention back to the battle raging on the edge of the mosaic map less than a dozen paces away.  The crash had come from one of the skeletons as it toppled to the floor in pieces.  Quellan was already engaging the second, while a few steps behind him Kosk was battering the third.  The last one, the one that had been so heavily damaged in passing through the fiery ordeals conjured by Xeeta and Glori, was already lying broken on the floor.  The two were taking hits, but between Quellan’s heavy armor and Kosk’s speed they seemed to have the matter well in hand.

But even as the thought formed, Glori caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye.  She started to shout a warning, but it was too late as a third _lightning bolt_ streaked out and slammed into Quellan from behind.  He staggered forward into his opponent, nearly knocking it over.  The bolt continued in the general direction of Kosk, but this time the naga didn’t have the angle and it dissipated harmlessly a few feet from the monk.  Kosk looked up as the last tendrils of electricity dissipated and met Glori’s eyes.

“It’s above us!” she yelled.  She got up and started running toward Quellan, but the cleric recovered first and delivered a powerful blow from his mace that shattered one of the skeleton’s lower arms and knocked it flying in pieces from its body.

Kosk’s opponent tried to take advantage of its foe’s distraction, but even as it swept out its lower arms the dwarf ducked and swept in under its reach.  He thrust up with his staff, jamming it into its hips and using it as a fulcrum to topple the creature forward.  Already off-balance from its abortive attack, the skeleton was unable to resist being flung down onto the hard tiles.  One claw happened to dislodge the piece of the mosaic that represented the general part of Weltarin where the _Gull_ had landed, but it couldn’t get purchase before Kosk leapt onto its back and thrust his staff forward, snapping its pelvis and separating its upper body and legs into three separate pieces.  Those component parts continued to move for another second before they came apart in a clatter of bones on the floor.

Kosk staggered clear of the shattered ruins of the ape skeleton and took a quick look around to see how the battle was progressing.  Quellan was still battling the last skeleton, and he nearly moved that way out of reflex before he saw Glori already heading toward the embattled cleric.  He’d only caught a glimpse of Rodan dragging Xeeta off the field of battle, but knew they had taken cover behind one of the pillars.  He knew there was a more dangerous foe nearby, a fact that was confirmed a moment later when he saw Glori come to a sudden stop.  She stood there for a moment, staring ahead vacantly, then reached down and drew her sword.  He could tell that something was wrong as she started haltingly forward toward Quellan.

Kosk ran toward her.  He glanced up at the gallery that ran around the base of the dome but only caught a hint of movement.  The snake-creature apparently knew this place well, well enough to take advantage of the many potential places to hide.  A flash of fire told him that Xeeta was still fighting, but the _fire bolt_ lacked the blasting power of her greater magics.  After hurling _fireballs_ and _scorching rays_ around all day yesterday, last night, and just now, she had to be running low.

Glori turned as the monk ran up to her.  He barely slowed as she swung her sword at him, ducking under the stroke before he snapped his leg around and took her legs out from under her.  As she landed on her back, rapping her head solidly on the hard floor, he knocked the sword out of her grasp.

“Sorry,” he said, before delivering a blow that smacked her head back once more, stunning her.

He didn’t wait, knowing that the two of them together presented a tempting target for the naga.  He started sprinting forward again, picking up speed as he headed right for one of the pillars that supported the ceiling.  He could feel his _ki_ surging within him, coursing through his body with every step he took.  He let everything else fall into the background as he focused upon it, focused upon the pillar that was rapidly coming closer as he threw everything he had into running faster and faster.

From the cover of the other pillar Rodan watched in amazement as Kosk shot across the room in a blur.  The dwarf hit the pillar and kept on running, dashing up its side as if had been solid ground.  He lost momentum as he neared the top, a good thirty feet above the floor, but at the last moment he leapt up and seized hold of the decorative scrollwork that surrounded the top of the pillar, using it to fling himself up onto the gallery that ringed the base of the dome.

“What’s happening?” Xeeta asked from beside him.  Glori’s healing spell had revived her, but she was still in awful shape, her usually bright skin charred black from the multiple blasts of lightning that she’d absorbed.  Her clothes, already ragged from their long trip through the jungle, were in equally bad condition.

The creature had moved back further along the rim of the dome, and they could no longer see it clearly from their current position.  Hopefully that meant that it also could not see them, but Rodan was not going to make any assumptions after what they’d already seen of its tricks.  “Kosk is distracting it,” he told the sorceress.  “Stay here.”

“No, we have to help Glori and Quellan.”

“I’ll go,” he said, pressing her hand in his.  “You can’t take another hit.  Stay here, but be ready to blast it if it shows itself.”

She reluctantly nodded as he grabbed his bow and ran back out into the room.

As soon as he gained the high ground, Kosk could see the naga.  It had taken shelter amongst the stonework that supported one of the massive arches that absorbed the incredible weight of the dome.  Quellan had placed his _daylight_ spell high enough so that it cast a distinct shadow, clearly revealing the creature’s outline against the darker stone.

There was also no doubt that it had seen him.  Even as he landed onto the narrow walkway—one that lacked any kind of railing or other safety features, he noted—the head of the naga turned toward him.  It issued a hiss that the dwarf interpreted as an expression of anger.

He started to rise, but staggered as he felt a massive assault upon his consciousness.  It took all of his effort just to keep from stumbling over the edge, yielding his hard-won position in a face-first plummet to the marble floor below.  All of his training and focus were barely enough to keep him from succumbing to that intense external pressure.  He knew that if he faltered it would seize control of him, turning him into the creature’s slave.

With a deep growl he drove the intruder from his mind and charged.  One false step would have led to disaster, but every single step was placed flawlessly, covering the precarious distance as smoothly as he’d run across the floor earlier.  The serpent-thing saw him coming and reared up, its jaws snapping open to reveal fangs that dripped with gobs of ready venom.  It hissed at him again and Kosk found himself responding with a guttural, visceral yell.  It waited until he sprang forward then lunged, its head snapping forward like the end of a whip.  But Kosk had been ready for that, and he twisted his body in mid-air, narrowly avoiding those deadly fangs.  He came down on the hood that spread out from the sides of its head and snapped his legs around its neck, seizing hold of it.

The naga reared back violently.  It snapped its head back and forth, slamming its unwelcome passenger against the surrounding stone.  Kosk’s staff was knocked from his grasp and tumbled end-over-end before hitting the floor below.  The creature drove him up against the nearby arch with enough force to knock the air from his lungs.  But still he held on, and wouldn’t yield his hold.  Even without his weapon he kept attacking it, driving his fists into the base of its skull repeatedly until its angry hisses were punctuated with gasps of pain.

The naga suddenly rose up again, and Kosk tensed, expecting a renewed assault.  But instead the creature spoke a word that seeped magical potency, and in its wake the dwarf felt a fiery agony explode through his body.  He could feel his skin crinkling as the _blight_ spell took hold, and blood began to course from his nostrils and ears as the tender flesh there dried and parted.  For a moment he couldn’t see as the spell sucked moisture from inside his eyeballs.  But still, he held on.

He heard a sound of metal hitting stone close by, and knew that his companions were trying to help him.  But the angle was bad, and they would have to hold back out of fear of hitting him.  As his vision cleared, he caught a glimpse of them below.

“Kosk!” Quellan yelled.  “Get out of there!”

The dwarf’s eyes met the cleric’s, and in that instant of contact a silent communication passed between them.  Quellan’s expression twisted with grief, and his lips formed a single soundless word.

The naga reared again, but Kosk noted that even in their deadly melee it was careful not to expose itself too much to fire from below.  That realization let him guess where it would try to take him next, and as it lunged again toward the exposed arch he made his move.

As the creature struck, he abruptly released his legs.  Their shared momentum carried both of them into the arch, but he spun and absorbed the impact, while at the same time coming up under its head and delivering a bone crushing blow with his right fist.  The naga convulsed in agony, its hold on the surrounding stone loosening as it briefly lost control of its body.  Kosk didn’t give it a chance to recover.  He seized hold of it again and with a final growl of effort pulled it away from its perch.  For a last moment the two of them hung there, then gravity exerted itself and both of them plummeted to the floor of the chamber thirty-five feet below.

For a moment the flat, hard surface seemed to be rushing up to greet him.  He was heading for a face-first meeting, the weight of the struggling creature thrusting him down.  With a final reflexive lung Kosk reached out and grabbed hold of the creature’s flailing body, spinning so that the monster hit first.

They hit the floor with a massive thud.  A terrible sound issued from the naga, and both ends of it lashed out wildly, its tail snapping hard against the nearby pillar with enough force to leave a mark upon the stone.  Its body coiled and uncoiled as shattered bones tore open its flesh from inside, and it let out a truly awful wail.

Kosk, dazed and battered, rose unsteadily to his feet.  He looked up and saw the others running over toward him.  They were shouting something, but he couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.  But he could see when their faces changed, and the warning as they pointed and lifted weapons.

He started to turn around.  He knew there was danger, but his body wouldn’t quite work the way he wanted.  He had only gotten about halfway around when pain exploded in his body.  He could feel something sharp piercing him through the back of his neck.  White fire seemed to pour into his body, and he opened his mouth to cry out in pain.  But before anything could come out the pain faded.  He felt only a calm lassitude creep over him as all of his senses grew vague.  His last thought was that he had forgotten something, but it no longer seemed important as blackness enfolded him.


----------



## Lazybones

We're coming up fast on the end of the story (10 more posts after this one). This arc will be concluded, but I couldn't resist ending on a cliffhanger. I could have easily continued into Book 12, but it's been over two years already since I started writing this story and it's time to move on to other stuff.

But first, another cliffhanger...

* * * 

Chapter 307

When Bredan first stirred back into consciousness he didn’t remember where he was or how he’d come to be lying on the floor.  But then memory of his encounter with the intelligence that resided within the Libram came crashing back in with the force of a physical blow.  He tried to ignore the stabbing pains that shot through his head as he pushed himself up to look around.

The light was different, dimmer than before, but it was still enough to clearly make out the familiar outlines of the chamber.  But he immediately noticed that something else had changed.  The slab that had blocked the exit at the top of the stairs was gone, replaced by a shimmering field of energy that gave off a very faint glow.  It hurt his eyes to look at it too long, so he quickly turned away to look for his companions.

He immediately saw Kavek, lying unconscious just a few paces away to his right.  There was something odd that he couldn’t quite place at first.  The way the sailor had fallen he was facing toward the wall, but there was something strange about the shape of his head, and the skin that was just visible between his hair and the collar of his coat was distinctly reddish in the dull light, as if he’d experienced a sudden and intense sunburn.

Bredan began to pull himself up to take a closer look, but was interrupted by Kalasien’s voice behind him.  “Bredan.  Are you all right?”

There was a strange tension in the man’s voice that drew Bredan’s attention to him.  The Arreshian agent had already gotten back to his feet, but as their eyes met Bredan thought he saw something in the other man’s stare.  It might have been anger, an intensity that seemed so incongruous that he blinked and shook his head to clear it.  When he looked up again the other man’s face was back to its usual neutral, controlled expression.

Kavek groaned and Bredan turned back to him.  Kalasien was further away, but he moved so quickly that he beat the warrior to the fallen sailor.  “Kavek,” he said, bending over him so that Bredan couldn’t see either man’s face.  “Kavek, you were unconscious.”  As the other man groaned, Kalasien helped him up.

By the time that the agent had gotten the sailor to his feet he was more or less awake.  He looked like he felt about the same as Bredan, but there was nothing unusual about his appearance, and his skin color had returned to the same dusky tan they’d all earned over the course of the sea voyage and their stay thus far under the hot sun of Weltarin.  Bredan dismissed what he’d seen earlier as a trick of the light or his own addled senses, but he couldn’t shake that initial look that he’d caught from Kalasien.

“What…” Kavek said.  “What happened?”

“Take it easy,” Bredan told him.  “Whatever that was, it took something out of us.”

“I saw,” Kavek said.  “I saw… all of it.”  He stared at Bredan as if he’d never seen him before.

“Something’s coming,” Kalasien said.

The three men separated—Kavek wavered for a moment, but he was able to remain upright—and faced the gap at the top of the stairs.  Bredan felt a moment’s twinge at Kalasien being behind him—what _had_ that look been about?—but his attention was quickly focused on the figure coming down the steps toward them.

They couldn’t see it clearly through the glowing barrier, just a vague man-shaped shadow that slowly descended the ancient stairs.  When it reached the field, it passed through with just a slight frisson of distorted light.  Some instinct told Bredan that the barrier would not let them pass so easily.  He remembered the book’s last words to him and assumed that this was the guardian it had referenced.

His first clear look at the thing caused his heart to leap in his chest.  One glance was enough to tell that whatever it was, it was no longer one of the living.  It was tall, almost seven feet from the bottom of its feet to the top of its head, but its flesh was desiccated and brown, stretched tight over bones that were occasionally visible where the leathery skin had parted.  Its eyes were black sunken sockets within which tiny red points were visible, like flickers of torchlight reflected within a deep pool.  It was clad in what might have once been finery, but which now hung in tattered scraps from its body.  Bredan’s gaze was drawn to its chest, where it wore a broad pectoral of silvery metal that was clearly imprinted with the sigil that the tabaxi matriarch had shown them, the same sigil he bore upon his blade.

He summoned his sword back into his grasp.

The undead entity spoke.  Its lips did not move, and whatever husks it had left for lungs clearly could no longer manipulate air, but each of them heard it as a soft whisper hissed directly into their minds.

_I am the last of the Mai’i,_ it said.  “I accepted the charge to be bound to this place and serve beyond death.  To guard the Eldarithi Libranum, both to keep it safe and to keep the world safe from it.”

“You didn’t do such a good job of it,” Kalasien said.

Bredan shot the agent a warning look before turning his attention back to the guardian.  Careful to keep his sword low, he said, “We’re not here to fight.”

The entity shifted its empty stare toward Kalasien.  “I failed once before.  The Libranum escaped my grasp.  But now it has returned, and I have once more been awakened from my eternal slumber to stand vigil.”

“I was invited here,” Bredan said.  “The book called me here.”

“I do not serve the book,” the guardian said.  “My charge is from those who created it, those who bear responsibility for the power it contains.”

“There’s no disagreement,” Bredan said.  “I too want to keep the book protected.  It reached out to me, not the other way around.  I didn’t want to be chosen.  But there is a real threat.  There are those who seek to use its power for evil ends.”

“Good, evil, those are words without meaning to one such as I.  I know what the book has asked of you.  It cannot be permitted.”

“I haven’t agreed to what it wants,” Bredan said.  “The book is somewhere above, I assume?  I just want to get out of here.  Let me pass, or show me another way to the surface.  I have friends above, let me rejoin them.  You can accompany me, ensure that I do not mess with the book along the way.”

“Your friends already face the upper guardian.  Even if they survive, they cannot be allowed to leave this place.  Knowledge of the book must die with you.”

“If you kill us, others will come!” Bredan said.  “Damn it, just listen to me!  This doesn’t have to be this way.  I don’t want to fight you.”

“What you want is irrelevant,” the guardian said.  It took another step down, dust falling from its withered body as it shifted its weight on the stairs.

Bredan stepped forward to meet it, but before he could reach the stairs the guardian’s eyes flashed and the warrior felt a surge of necromantic power erupt through his body.  He screamed as the full potency of its _harm_ spell tore through him, pulverizing bits of flesh and tissue to ash that fell in flecks from him as he stumbled back and dropped to one knee, as if in supplication to the ancient being that stood over them, implacable in its judgment.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 308

There was no time to react as the naga seized Kosk from behind, its long fangs driving deep into his body.  The others could see the dwarf’s face twist in pain as its jaws locked onto his chest, lifting him off his feet to dangle helplessly in the air.

“No!” Glori yelled, but the naga just flicked its head almost casually to the side, hurling the limp form of Kosk to the floor of the chamber.

Quellan let out a roar of raw fury.  He raised his shield and invoked a nimbus of _sacred flame_ that coalesced around the head and upper body of the creature.  But before the spell concluded the naga lunged forward, slashing through the gathering magic and sundering it into nothing.

The cleric’s companions unleashed a full barrage of attacks at the creature, but they likewise had little effect.  Rodan fired the last arrow from his quiver, but the naga continued to shift rapidly back and forth and the shot narrowly missed.  Similarly, Xeeta’s _fire bolt_ streaked harmlessly past it.  Glori strummed her lyre, trying to affect the creature’s mind with one of her few remaining spells, but that effort too failed.

Quellan lifted his mace and started to rush forward, but he’d gotten barely five steps into his charge when the creature opened its jaws wide and hissed at him.  He could see the white flicker of magic gathering as it prepared a spell, and dodged to the side.

A pale beam of energy shot past him, but he heard a cry of pain and glanced back in time to see Xeeta fall to the floor, clutching her chest.  Rodan started to go to her aid, but Glori beat him to it, gesturing for him to help the cleric.  But before the tiefling could reach him Quellan heard the slithering approach of the naga and turned back to see it bearing down upon him.  It was already so close that he could see the hate in its eyes and the tiny droplets of poison that trickled down its fangs.

Quellan raised his shield again.  He could just see the still-unmoving form of Kosk underneath it.  The sight awakened a violent rage in him, but even as he drew back his mace he cast his awareness outward, to the place where his connection with his patron god resided.  He called out to Hosrenu, and the god answered.

A wild eruption of divine fire came cascading down out of the domed vastness of the chamber.  The naga hesitated and looked up, but its speed and agility were of no avail against this assault.  The _flame strike_ slammed into it, driving it to the floor and unleashing a wash of fire so intense that Quellan’s companions were driven back a step.  For a moment the cleric disappeared within that conflagration, but when it cleared a moment later he was standing there on the edge of a blackened circle upon the marble tiles, within which lay the smoking wreckage of the naga.

Quellan gave it one look, then hurried over to where Kosk had fallen.  Glori and Rodan watched him, even as the bard expended the last of her magic to heal Xeeta and bring her once more back to consciousness.

Xeeta groaned and blinked as her attention focused on Glori.  “Kosk,” she said.

“Quellan’s tending to him.  We’re safe for the moment, just rest for a second.”

“No.  Help me up.  Rodan.”

Glori and Rodan helped her slowly to her feet.  The sorceress was a mess, her clothes both scorched from the naga’s _lightning bolt_ and crusted with ice crystals from the _ray of frost_ that it had blasted her with just before its death.  But none of them were much better off, and it wasn’t entirely sure who was leaning on whom as the three crossed the room to where Quellan was kneeling over Kosk’s fallen form.

One look was enough to confirm his fate.  Kosk’s robes had been torn wide open, revealing a dark web of black lines running through his skin where the naga’s poison had wrought its deadly work.  The muscles of his face and neck were clenched in a grim rictus, a death mask that had denied him even the peace of his end.

“If you hadn’t had to save me, you could have brought him back again,” Glori said.

“No,” Quellan said.  He looked up at them, the tears falling unashamed from his eyes.  “He sacrificed himself willingly, for us.  We will grieve, but the only blame here is lying dead over yonder.”

He tried to get up, but his legs buckled under him and he crashed heavily back to the floor.  Glori rushed over to him.  “I think we’re done, at least for now,” Rodan said.

Quellan nodded.  “We can take a short rest.  I can bolster us, at least a little bit.”  His eyes turned toward the dark opening where the naga and its skeletal guardians had appeared.  “But Bredan needs us.  And I don’t know how I know this, but somehow I know that our time is growing short.”


----------



## carborundum

Now Kosk! Cliffhanger week indeed! 
/gnaws fingernails


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 309

Bredan could not remember ever feeling a pain like that which the mummy guardian had inflicted upon him.  Every bit of his body felt like it was dying, and every muscle and organ and bit of skin was telling him that it was over, that he could do nothing more than collapse and accept the inevitable.

But Bredan had never been one to meekly accept his fate.

A strangled, almost feral sound issued from his ragged throat as he surged up to his feet.  He swung his sword in a wild arc that had more power than precision behind it.  The blade smashed into the side of the creature, but somehow its withered and feeble-looking body not only absorbed the blow but rebuffed it.  Ash puffed out from its flesh where the sword had carved a narrow gash from which bits of pale bone were visible.

Bredan didn’t hesitate, lifting his sword for another strike.  But this time the mummy was ready for him, and it caught the descending blade in its bare hand, arresting its motion as if it had been a bit of wood rather than a long shaft of forged steel.

The mummy’s lips twitched, and it uttered a single word of power.

The creature’s disembodied voice echoed through Bredan’s skull like the tolling of some vast bell.  It pounded at his awareness like a sledgehammer, and it took everything he had to cling to the moment.  He was dimly aware of Kavek and Kalasien both stumbling back from the reverberations of the mummy’s power.

Through the haze that had crept over his senses, he caught a hint of movement.

Reflex caused him to defend himself, and his own power, the gift of the book, surged at his call.  He had used up most of that gift just surviving to this point, but there was enough left for him to throw up a _shield_ between himself and his adversary.  That proved to be just barely in time as the mummy’s fist smashed into the magical barrier with the force of a battering ram.  The backlash of that impact seared Bredan’s already-raw senses, but the spell held.

Bredan struggled to get his sword up again, but before he could launch another attack his eyes met the gaze of the mummy.  The twin points of fire seemed to draw him in, until there seemed to be nothing else in the world except for those sinister points of light.  Against that dreadful glare his armor and his will were equally useless, and his muscles froze into immobility.  All he could do was stare at the mummy as it stepped forward and lifted a bony fist to put an end to him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 310

Darkness enfolded Bredan, so suddenly that for a moment he thought that the mummy’s strike must have connected and knocked him senseless.  But then he realized that he was still aware, could still feel his body.  He could hear movement around him and smell the stale rot that emanated from the creature.  But he was still frozen in place, helpless to do anything but wait for the blow to fall.

When he was finally struck, he nearly lost his mind to panic, but instead of being hit from ahead the impact came from the side.  Instead of the bone-crushing intensity he’d expected the blow was almost gentle, pushing him over.  In his current state he could do nothing to soften the impact with the hard floor, but his armor protected him from anything worse than another bruise to add to his already significant tally.

He could hear fighting taking place what sounded like a bare stride away from where he lay helpless.  He still couldn’t see anything, but he heard a solid thump of impact that suggested that maybe Kavek had recovered and brought his mace into play.  He didn’t know how the mummy had managed to blind him, but it sounded like the sailor was scoring hits.  But he already knew that its apparent frailty disguised a considerable strength.

Just as he was starting to feel the grip on his muscles loosen, the mummy unleashed another word of power that once more knocked Bredan’s awareness reeling.  There was a moment of silence in the aftermath that suggested that Kavek had succumbed as well, but then there was a sizzling hiss, followed by a pair of explosive blasts that sounded so close that Bredan would have reflexively covered his head with his arms, if he’d been capable of moving at all.  His sense of helplessness grew, followed by a growing fury at being unable to affect the battle taking place an arm’s reach from where he lay.

His hands clenched reflexively on the hilt of his father’s sword.  Suddenly his strength rushed back in, and he was free of the unnatural paralysis that had gripped him.  He immediately surged back up to his feet, but realized that without being able to see he was as likely to kill Kavek as strike the guardian.

And then, as if dispelled by the thought, the darkness vanished.  The mummy was right in front of him.  It had been looking at Kavek, who stood a step to the right, but as Bredan rose it turned to look at him with a look that might have been surprise, had its husk of a face been capable of showing emotion.

Bredan knew better now than to meet its stare.  Instead he lowered his head and unleashed a punishing series of attacks.

Pain, exhaustion, and weakness were all forgotten as he hacked at the creature.  He hit it again where he’d struck it earlier, widening the gash he’d opened previously.  He smashed it in the side of its head, carving away the tight skin and cracking its skull.  It swung at him, but in a flush of rage he met it with his sword, hewing the limb off at the elbow.  The mummy recoiled from him as the arm fell to the floor, but Bredan wasn’t finished.  Bringing the sword up over his head, he screamed and drove it down in a stroke that hit it in the shoulder next to its neck and carved down until the blade emerged from under its opposite armpit.  The blade kept descending until it clanged loudly off the floor.

The light in the mummy’s eyes seemed to flicker for a moment as it looked at him.  Then the thing started to come apart.  Its body crumbled to a fine powder that swirled in the air for a moment before the whole mess swept across the room in a sudden gust and whipped around once in a tight circle before it darted into the far passage—where they’d first entered the room—and disappeared.

Bredan just stared after it for a moment.  He looked down at the withered hand and forearm he’d cut from the undead guardian.  After a few seconds it too dissolved into dust, which dissipated as quickly as the rest of the thing had.  The barrier that had blocked the steps ahead of them was gone, leaving just an ascent that rose into pure darkness beyond the feeble light of the chamber.

He looked over at Kavek, who seemed just as surprised as he.  “Thanks,” he said.

Kavek started to nod, but his eyes suddenly widened and he yelled, “Look out!”

Bredan started to turn, which meant that the blow that caught him from behind scored a glancing hit rather than the skull-cracking impact that had been intended.  Already battered to within an inch of his life by the mummy, Bredan toppled forward and again landed awkwardly on the floor.  He was dimly aware of his sword clattering out of his grasp and bouncing off the steps to land just out of reach a few feet away.

Dazed from the hit, Bredan managed to roll over in time to see Kalasien standing over him.  This time the agent didn’t bother to hide the murderous intent in his eyes.  He hadn’t drawn his sword, but as he lifted his hand Bredan saw that his fist had swollen into a bulky mass shaped roughly like a hammer’s head.

His adversary gave him no chance to react as he lunged forward and brought the strange limb down toward his face.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 311

Bredan reached for his sword, but in his dazed state he couldn’t quite concentrate enough to summon it to his grasp.

There was another hiss, familiar even to his addled senses, then an eruption of light and sound that momentarily blinded him.  He blinked furiously as he struggled to get up, aware that death still stalked him, but his battered limbs still failed to obey his commands.

As the afterimages of the flash cleared, he saw that Kalasien had been the target of the explosions.  Two dark marks had been seared into his coat, but while he looked injured, there was fury rather than pain in his eyes as he stared at a point just behind the prone warrior.  “What are you doing, you fool!” he shouted in a voice that sounded little like the even-keeled agent that Bredan knew.

“I am doing what I should have done some time ago,” Kavek said.

“Then you can die with him, traitor!” Kalasien said.  He lunged forward again, but Bredan had taken advantage of the seconds that the distraction had given him.  As the odd club-hand came smashing down again his sword leaped into his hand, and Bredan used the stairs beside him as leverage to plant the hilt down firmly upon the floor while he propped the blade up before him.  Kalasien’s eyes widened in surprise as his own momentum impaled him on the sharp shaft of steel.  Dark blood welled from the wound, running down the length of the blade before it spattered down onto Bredan’s chest.

Kalasien lifted his hand; the hammer-growth dissolved back into slender fingers.  But even they were strange; they were too long and topped with wedge-shaped claws, the skin gray and leathery.

Bredan looked from the hand up to Kalasien’s face, which was beginning to shift subtly, as if there was something under his skin trying to get out.  “What are you?” he asked.

“Your death, and that of your friends, is inevitable,” the other said.  “You… you may have escaped me… but others will come.  Your victory… is merely… temporary…”

He slumped down to the floor, easing to the side as Bredan pushed on the sword.  The young warrior got to his feet, staring down at the figure that continued to shift and change as death took him.  Within just a few moments the features of the Arreshian agent had been replaced by a hideous gray-skinned visage that looked incomplete, like a sculptor’s work that had been abandoned unfinished.  It had lidless red-tinted eyes that were just slightly too large, and a narrow slash of a mouth beneath two slits where its nose should have been.

Bredan stumbled back and looked at Kavek, who had been watching silently during the exchange.  He was no longer holding his mace, but something had changed in him too, a subtle shift in demeanor, a difference in the way that he held himself.

“What was that?” Bredan asked.

“It was a doppelganger,” Kavek said.  “A shapeshifter.  That particular one was named Drekkath.”

“It knew you,” Bredan said.  “You were working with it.”

“Yes.  We were sent here to infiltrate your group and steal the book, once you had managed to locate it.”

“You admit it?  Just like that?”

“There’s no reason to hide it now.”

Bredan lifted his sword, hating that he couldn’t conceal the effort it cost him.  “Why?”

“Because I saw what you saw.  The book spoke to me as well.  I see now that what that thing and its masters want is just another form of slavery for my people.”

“Your people?” Bredan asked.

Kavek closed his eyes for a moment, and his features began to shift as well.  In his case, however, it was just a faint shimmering before the illusion that had been concealing his true identity faded.

“You’re a hobgoblin!”

“Yes.”

Bredan blinked and looked again.  “Wait a minute… were you…”

“I was there in the Silverpeak Valley, yes.”

“You tried to kill us.”

“Yes.  And you tried to kill me.  You came closer to success than I did.”

“How long?  How long have you been…”

“Since Li Syval.  Drekkath replaced the ship’s mate and hired me on as part of the crew.”

“Replaced?”

“He murdered the original.”

“Then… the real Kalasien…”

“Yes.  It killed him as well.  I was not present at the… event, so I do not have the details, but it happened during the sea journey, shortly before Trev was ‘washed overboard.’”

“Elias…”

“Killed as well.”

“Why… why are you telling me all this now?”

“As I said.  I am tired of being a slave.  My people hate yours, with good reason.  But this sins you have committed against us are nothing compared to what will happen if those I serve get their hands on that book.”

“Sins… but Kavel Murgoth invaded us!  Your people pillaged villages, murdered people!”

“We can get into an argument over imperialism and the historical justifications for it later, if we survive the next few minutes.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want you to do what the book wants you to do.  To put an end to it.  To seal our world away from those outside who seek to use us for their own ends.”

“I never agreed…”

“I know.  I heard you address the mummy lord.  But I have information that may affect your decision.  I know the nature of the foe that you have been struggling against, the force behind Kavel Murgoth, the cult in Severon, and schemes of which you don’t even have the slightest awareness.  I don’t know if the visions that the book revealed are true, but I can tell you that those outsiders want access to this world.  They want to come here, and their goals are not benign.  They wish to kill, to enslave, to rule.  My people have aided them in exchange for power.  I have seen their true nature, and believe me, you do not want them to get their hands on that book.”

“How can I possibly trust you?  You’re an admitted killer, and you came halfway around the world to steal the book for yourself!”

“You shouldn’t trust me.  But know this; I could have done nothing just now, and you would be dead instead of Drekkath.  I could kill you now.”  He lifted a hand, and a soft pulse of energy flickered in his grasp.  “As battered as you are, one _eldritch blast_ would do it.”

“Did you arrange for us to be separated?  For you and Kalasien to be alone with me in the ruins?”

The warlock snorted.  “That was luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Your power, your magic, it comes from these ‘masters’ of yours?  What are they?”

“You would call them fiends, demons, or devils.  You know more of how this works than you know.  You have a few of their progeny as companions.”

“Xeeta and Rodan.  You’re like them?”

“The Blooded.  I knew nothing of the cult in Li Syval until you spoke of it on the ship, and I know not if the outsiders there are of the same breed that infused their bloodline into my tribe, but it seems we are all fruits from the same tree.”

The tension thickened.  Bredan was clearly still too overwhelmed to decide on a specific course of action.  The sword waved a bit, but did not come down from its ready position.

Finally, Kavek said, “Can we at least agree to a truce until we find the way out of here?  You heard the guardian speak of your friends, and the danger they are in.  There appears to be only one way out of here, and there may be further threats between here and the surface.”

Bredan finally let the sword drop, but he kept it in his grasp.  “What do I call you?” he asked.

“My real name is Kurok.”

“Kurok.  Pretty close.”

“That was another of Drekkath’s ideas.  The thing was an expert at duplicity, I will give it that.”

Bredan’s eyes flicked down to the hideous form of the doppelganger.  “If you try anything…”

“Yes, yes.  We can stipulate that we do not trust each other and skip the various mutual threats.  It is in times like these that the differences between your kind and mine do not seem so significant.”

“Would you do anything different, in my position?”

Kurok shook his head.  “I have never been in your position.  That is why I am here, and why I am doing this.”

“Your magic.  It was you who intervened in my fight with the dragonborn chief, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You could have just let me die there.  No,” he added before the warlock could respond.  “You still needed me alive, didn’t you?  To lead you to the book.”

“And I still need you now,” Kurok said.

“And if I refuse to do what the book wants?”

“I suppose that depends on what we find up there.”

“If I find that you did anything to endanger any of my friends, I’ll kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Standing as far apart as the breadth of the stairs would permit, the two of them began the ascent.


----------



## carborundum

Nice! Turn the screw on Bredan's choice a little more - now he could be helping the enemy. Except he seems reasonable...but then Quellan...argh!


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 312

Glori let out a sigh of relief as Quellan completed his _prayer of healing_.  She’d suspected that she’d had a minor concussion from having her head slammed to the marble floor.  Kosk had managed to save her from herself; she knew that she never would have forgiven herself if she’d stabbed Quellan.  Even though she’d been under the mental control of the naga at the time, she always would have wondered if she could have resisted the creature’s spell if she’d possessed more focus or will.

Her eyes traveled over to the niche where they’d left the dwarf’s body.  They’d made a shroud for him out of a few blankets that were so ragged that they were hardly any use as bedding any more.  They’d agreed to take a short rest here before moving on, but there was nothing here that they could use to build a cairn, no place they could inter their fallen friend short of going back outside and digging him a grave.

Xeeta noted her attention.  “I feel bad just leaving him here,” she said.  She looked over at Quellan.  “You’re sure there’s nothing…”

“My powers have grown sufficiently for me to be able to raise the dead,” Quellan said.  “But the diamonds that the spell consumes are not merely symbolic.  They are needed to channel the power of the spell.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll find some,” Rodan said.  “From all we know, the Mai’i were crazy rich.  There could be a hidden treasure chamber somewhere around here.”

“Still,” Xeeta said.  “What if some creature comes along after we leave, and eats him?”

“I don’t think there are any animals here,” Rodan said.  “I haven’t even seen any bugs since we entered the inner city, and the carcass of that crab-thing we killed was clean and untouched even after several hours.  The gods only know what they ate.”

“Maybe they were in some kind of stasis until we got here,” Quellan suggested.  “Or they were summoned by some kind of spell left by the Mai’i to deter intruders.”

“There’s no way of knowing,” Rodan said.  He knelt beside his pack.  “We’re almost out of supplies.  Can you create some more of that magical food?”

“Once I’ve had a full night’s rest,” Quellan said.  “For now, I can create some more water, but that will just about deplete my powers.”

The cleric had been using his magic to augment their supplies for some time now, and they had the procedure down.  The spell made about ten gallons, more than enough to refill all of their containers.  They kept the excess in one of their more intact rain covers until they had all drunk as much as they could and topped off their waterskins, then used what was left to wash off the sweat and dirt and blood from the multiple battles they had fought to get here.

“Gods, I stink,” Xeeta said as she used a cloth to wipe her neck and face.

“We all stink,” Rodan said.

“I’m not fastidious,” Xeeta said.  “But I’m tired of this, you know?”

“Yeah,” Glori said.  “I’ve been fantasizing about some of the nicer inns I’ve visited lately, in the quiet moments when I haven’t been fighting for my life.”

Rodan shared out a few strips of root stalk he’d foraged in the forest.  The supplies that the tabaxi had given them were all completely gone, and the magical food that Quellan created never lasted for more than a day before it spoiled.

“Ugh, are you sure this stuff is edible?” Xeeta asked as she bit off a piece of the root with some effort.

“It’ll keep you alive,” Rodan said.

“I wonder what this place was like, when there were people here,” Glori said, looking up at the vast dome above them.

“It must have taken an incredible effort to build this,” Rodan said.  “There’s nothing even close to this in Li Syval.”

“Or anywhere I’ve been,” Glori said.  “The Mai’i must have been exceptional engineers.”

“Magic,” Xeeta said.  “This was built with magic.”

“Sure, but it had to remain standing after they were done,” Rodan said.

Glori looked over at Quellan, who hadn’t really engaged in their conversation once he had used his magic to create the water.  She leaned over to touch him on the arm.  “Are you all right?”

He met her eyes and nodded.  “I will be.  It just…”

Glori didn’t hear the rest of what he was going to say, as her senses suddenly blurred.  Colors and light flashed in her head, accompanied by a high-pitched sound that drowned out everything else.  For a moment she thought she could see an image within that surge of conflicting inputs, then she was thrust back to reality, so quickly that she felt dizzy and nearly slumped over.

Looking around, she saw that she wasn’t the only one to have been affected.

“What was _that_?” Rodan asked.

“Not a good sign, whatever it was,” Xeeta groaned.

“It’s Bredan, Bredan and the book,” Quellan said.

“Are you sure?” Glori asked, but even as she said the words, she felt something, an echo of the feeling she’d gotten during the episode.  “I think… you may be right,” she said.

“I think we’ve gotten enough rest,” Xeeta said.  She wavered visibly when she stood, but there was nothing but determination in her features.

Glori checked the fit of her sword in her scabbard as she got up, a gesture that she’d seen Bredan make many times before he’d learned the trick of making his weapon disappear and reappear at will.  She adjusted her lyre on her opposite hip, even though there was little she could do with it, with her reservoir of magic as depleted as the rest of them.  But they’d proven that it would take more than that to stop them.  “All right,” she said.  “Let’s go.”


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 313

Bredan and Kurok made their way slowly up the stairs.  Bredan was having some difficulty.  He was exhausted and battered, his stamina flagging, but he tried not to let it show to his dubious companion.  The other merely adjusted his pace to match Bredan’s.  The hobgoblin was a cipher.  He failed to live up to any of the stereotypes that Bredan had heard about his race, or the other goblinoids that he had clashed with since leaving Crosspath.  Kurok was obviously intelligent; he had managed to conceal his true identity for months while in close proximity to races that would have probably stabbed him on sight, had they known what he was.  Bredan had to admit that he’d been completely fooled, and could not deny that he would almost certainly be dead right now if the warlock hadn’t interrupted the doppelganger’s attack.  But there was no way that he could trust him, not with what he now knew.

“A glow up ahead,” Kurok said suddenly, drawing Bredan’s attention back to the stairs.  He cursed himself for not paying attention; the pale blue light was clearly visible, brightening what looked like another large chamber at the top of the stairs.

It took another painful minute for them to reach that destination.  The room was another spacious vault, its ceiling supported by half a dozen pillars as thick through as he was tall.  The pillars left the sides of the room hidden in deep shadow, but he could see that the stairs continued their ascent on the far side of the room from where they had entered.

The light was coming from a broad arch off to their left.  After sparing another wary glance at Kurok, Bredan made his way in that direction.  When he finally got close enough to peer through the open arch, he just stared in stunned surprise.

The chamber on the far side of the arch was familiar to him.  His mind was catapulted back to the first time he had seen it, back in the Vault underneath Severon.  That was where he received the mandate to come here, to find the book that was at the heart of everything that had happened to him since he’d left Crosspath all those months ago.

The low pedestal in the center of the room had been empty then, but the one here was not.  Bredan had never seen the Elderlore Libram before, not even in his dreams, but he recognized it instantly.  It was not that impressive, just a big, thick book bound between rigid covers trimmed in what looked like brass.  It sat open, and the glow was coming from the pages, filling the room with a pale radiance.  Bredan could just make out slowly shifting letters on the walls illuminated by that light, another evocation of the last time he’d been in a place like this one.  But there was no need for another hidden message.  The thing that he’d crossed half the world to find was right there, just a stone’s throw from where he stood.

He looked over at Kurok, who was keeping his reaction hidden behind a neutral mask.  The hobgoblin sensed his attention and turned to look at him.  “This is what you came here for,” Kurok said.  “Take the book, leave it, or destroy it.  The choice is yours.”

“What are you going to do?” Bredan asked.

“I will wait for the others.”  He reached up and made a gesture, and his features returned to those of the human sailor.

“If you harm any of them, I’ll kill you.”

“I have nothing to gain by doing so.  I made my decision when I saved you from Drekkath.  Now all I can do is see how my choice plays out.”

Bredan stared at him for a long moment before he stepped forward.  As he passed through the arch he felt something, a brief tingle that traveled along his skin before dissipating.  He continued forward for several more steps before he paused and looked back.

A translucent blue field had appeared within the archway.  Through it he could just make out the outline of Kurok’s form, but even as he watched the hobgoblin turned and walked away.

“Bloody hell,” Bredan said, wondering if he’d just made another big mistake.

He considered the barrier for another moment before he finally sighed and walked over to the platform that supported the book.  The pale glow enfolded him, and he let the light shining from his sword fade.  He kept the sword itself in his hands.  His arms were tired and the weight was awkward, but he wasn’t about to let himself go unarmed, here, not even for a few moments.

He carefully circled around the platform until he could see the exposed pages of the book.  They were covered with a dense scrawl of complex script.  He took a step closer to examine the writing.  He did not recognize the language, but the words were still somehow familiar.

As he stared at the writing the words began to swell.  Bredan started to draw back in alarm, but the glow coming from the book intensified until he could see nothing else.  He covered his face with his left arm and tried to get away, but the brilliant radiance engulfed him until he could see nothing else.

And then, nothing.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 314

The bright glow shining from Quellan’s shield drove back the shadows as the companions made their way down from the stairs into the underground vault.

“Over there,” Glori said, gesturing toward the glowing arch off to the side of the room.  They could all see it clearly, as it was full of a shimmering field of wavering light that appeared to completely block further passage.

“There are stairs continuing further down over there,” Rodan said.

“He’s here,” Glori insisted.  “I can feel him.”

“Careful,” Quellan said as she hurried over toward the arch.  The others hastened to keep up, the half-orc clanking a bit in his heavy armor.  But Glori was still a good fifteen feet from the arch when a figure stepped out from one of the huge pillars to their left.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the new arrival said.

Glori started in surprise, and reached for her sword before the light from Quellan’s shield revealed the newcomer.  “Kavek!” she said.  “Where’s Bredan?”

“Inside,” the sailor said, nodding toward the arch.  “With the Book.”

“What about Kalasien?” Xeeta asked.  “Is he with you?”

“He didn’t make it,” Kavek said.  “There was a guardian, a powerful magical creature.”

“Yeah, we ran into one of those as well,” Rodan said.  He’d circled a bit around to the left, clearing the spaces beyond the other pillars, but he kept one eye on the sailor as he approached.

“This barrier, is there no way past it?” Glori asked.

“I don’t know,” Kavek said.

Glori started forward again, but Kavek took a step toward her to block her.  “Stop.  He needs to do this alone.  We cannot interfere.”

“What are you talking about?” Glori asked.

“Do what?” Xeeta added.

“The book, it spoke to us,” Kavek said.  “It needs Bredan to help it.  That’s why he’s here.”

“Help it do what?” Glori asked.

“To destroy it.  The book is self-aware, it’s intelligent.  It knows that it was created to serve as a weapon.  The Mai’i, they created this whole place to serve as a kind of prison for it.  To keep it under their control.  It brought Bredan here so he could set it free.  There’s something special about this place, something about the magic, so it had to be here.”

“What happens when the book is destroyed?” Xeeta asked.

“I don’t know,” Kavek said again.  “But not doing it would be a disaster.”

“A calamity,” Quellan said.

Kavek looked at him and nodded.

“This all sounds rather strange to me,” Glori said.  “I’m going ahead.”

“No, don’t,” Kavek said.  “There’s more at stake here than you know.  If you just wait, I’ll try my best to make you understand.”

“You’re not really from Zesania, are you?” Quellan asked.

“What?” Kavek said.

“Your accent,” Quellan said.  “It’s changed.  I never really could place it before, except that there was something familiar about it, something that bothered me even when we were back on the ship.”

“You never really fit in on the _Golden Gull_,” Xeeta said.

“I was new.  You were there when I was hired on.”

“It’s more than that,” the sorceress said.  “You’re hiding something.”

“I never wanted to come here,” Kavek said.

“Nevertheless, you are here now,” Quellan said.

“I’m going to see Bredan,” Glori said.

Kavek shifted again to block the bard’s progress.  Behind her, her companions tensed.  “Kavek, I’ve had a really crappy couple of days,” Glori said.  “Don’t make me move you.”

Kavek looked at her, then at the others.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

He flicked one hand up, so quickly that they might have missed it if their full attention hadn’t been on him.  Something flickered for a moment in the bright light radiating from Quellan’s shield, and then Glori stumbled back, clutching her throat.  She turned and tried to say something, but all she could do was gasp for air as she stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Glori!” Quellan yelled, rushing toward her.

Kavek took advantage of the distraction to dart back for the cover of the pillar.  Xeeta flung a _fire bolt_ at him, but he ducked and it narrowly missed him.  Rodan drew his sword and circled around the pillar from the far side, while Xeeta went the other way in an attempt to keep him in view and pen him in between them.

Quellan let out a growl of frustration as he tried to help Glori.  With his magic depleted all he could do was hold her and try to clear her airway as she struggled for breath.  He got his waterskin out and tried to force some of its contents into her swollen airway, but she convulsed and most of it sprayed back out onto him.

“Damn it, don’t you leave me, do you hear me!” he shouted at her.

Xeeta heard a loud clatter of steel on steel and rounded the pillar to see Kavek holding off Rodan with a heavy mace that she swore he hadn’t had on him just a few moments ago.  She quickly called upon her magic once more.  Her Demon was quiescent, her powers drained by the heavy use she’d made of them over the last day or so, but she could still manage another _fire bolt_ that she flung at Kavek’s back.  This time her spell connected, the blast searing him in the left shoulder, but while she drew a grunt of pain the sailor did not appear to be seriously injured.

“Give it up, Kavek!” she yelled.

The sailor turned and retreated back toward the corner, moving so that he could see both of them at once.  Rodan immediately started to follow him, but before he could close for another strike Kavek lifted his hand and unleashed a pulse of dark energy that streaked out and slammed hard into Xeeta’s gut.  Pain shot through her and she staggered back a step.  She lifted her rod again in anticipation of a counter, but before she could draw upon her magic a second bolt streaked out and clipped her on the shoulder, almost exactly opposite where she’d blasted the sailor just a moment before.  The impact of the _eldritch blast_ spun her around, and she dropped to the ground as the darkness rushed back in.

“Not… bloody… again,” she managed to gasp out before she lost consciousness.

Kurok turned back toward Rodan, expecting another attack, but even so he was caught off guard by the intensity of the tiefling’s assault.  The warlock brought his mace up to parry, but the other man’s blade moved in a blur, carving past his defenses and plunging deep into his body.  Kurok coughed heavily, tasting the blood as it filled his mouth.  He swung his mace, trying to give himself some space, but managed only a weak blow that barely jolted his foe.  But Rodan’s eyes flashed red, the only warning that Kurok got before a surge of searing flames erupted all around him.  He tried to get clear of the inferno, but the tiefling’s _hellish rebuke_ clung to him, burning and burning until he finally toppled over onto the floor.

His vision remained clouded as he looked up, barely able to see his opponent standing above him.  He laughed, but it was cut off as another bloody spasm of coughing shook him.

“Ironic,” he managed to say before the shadows caught him.


----------



## Lazybones

Chapter 315

Glori’s struggles to breathe eased as she began to lose consciousness.  Desperate, Quellan channeled a trickle of divine power into her—all he could do, with his higher-order magic fully depleted.  The _spare the dying_ cantrip worked, stabilizing her, and her breathing eased as he let out a sigh of relief.

He looked over at Rodan, who was tending to Xeeta.  “How is she?” he asked.

“Unconscious,” Rodan said.  “She’s absorbed a lot of damage in the last few fights.”

Quellan carefully laid Glori down, pillowing her cloak under her head before he hurried over to them.  He knelt and touched the stricken tiefling’s forehead, passing that faint spark of divine blessing into her as well.

“She’ll be all right,” he said.  “But there is nothing more I can do for either of them at the moment.  They should wake in a few hours.  What about him?” he asked, nodding toward the fallen form of Kavek.

“I blasted him pretty good.  I don’t know if he’s still breathing.  I was focused on Xeeta, I don’t give a damn about that lying bastard.  All this time he was pretending to be just a simple sailor, hiding the fact that he was a bloody spellcaster.”

“He might have information,” Quellan said.

Rodan nodded and went over to the body.  He nudged it with his boot, turning him over enough to get a look at his face.  “Quellan,” he said.  “You’d better take a look at this.”

Quellan was making the unconscious tiefling comfortable, but at Rodan’s words he quickly got up and joined him.  He drew in a surprised breath as he saw what had set the ranger off.

“It looks like he was hiding more than we knew,” the cleric said.

“He was a bloody hobgoblin,” Rodan snarled.  “He look familiar to you at all?”

Quellan had left his shield over by Glori, but he bent to take a closer look.  “He can’t be…”

“The last time I saw this face, he was running because I’d just shot him with an arrow.”

“That’s… there’s obviously more going on here than we thought.”

“Yeah.  And Bredan’s likely in more trouble than we thought.”

He walked away from their fallen foe, toward the shimmering barrier.  “Do you think it’s solid?” Rodan asked.

“I don’t know.  But even if it’s not, it could kill you just for trying.”

Rodan reached into his pocket and took out a silver piece.  “We have to try.”

But before he could toss the coin, a hissing sound from behind them drew their attention back around.  Rodan scanned the dark corners of the room before his eyes settled on the dead warlock.  Those eyes widened as another sound issued from the corpse, and the chest lifted.

“I thought he was dead!” he said, drawing his sword as he came back over to their fallen foe.

“He is,” Quellan said.  “This is dark magic, necromancy.”

“He’s not going to get up and try to kill us again, is he?” Rodan asked.

“I don’t think so,” Quellan said.  “I think someone is trying to send us a message.”

The cleric dropped to one knee and leaned over the body, while Rodan circled around to take up a warding position on the other side.

Kavek’s chest fell, and his lips moved slightly as the air left his body.  “Tell Bredan… sever the link…”

“What’s he talking about?” Rodan asked.

“Presumably it has something to do with what the book asked him to do,” Quellan said.

“Kosk Stonefist… live again…” the corpse said.

“Kosk?” Quellan asked.  “What do you mean?  Damn it, speak up!”  He stood and looked around at the walls of the vault.  “Just tell us what you bloody want, you bloody book!”

Both men waited, but there was no further answer.

“All right, I’m going in,” Rodan said.

“I can’t leave Glori and Xeeta,” Quellan said.

“Agreed.  What should I tell Bredan?”

“Tell him what we know.  What Kavek told us, what the book said through his corpse.”

“And Kosk?  Do you think it was telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Quellan said.  “I don’t trust the book, don’t trust this place.  But we have to trust Bredan.  Tell him that, tell him that we trust him.”

Rodan nodded, and turned toward the barrier.  He adjusted his grip on his sword, took a steeling breath.  Then, after one last glance back at the watching half-orc, he started forward.  The barrier shimmered and rippled as he came into contact with it, then he stepped through and vanished.


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## Neurotic

Now we find out that Rhodan master minded everything. He is actually proud of his heritage


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## Lazybones

Neurotic said:


> Now we find out that Rhodan master minded everything. He is actually proud of his heritage



That would actually have been a cool twist! Wish I'd thought of it! 

* * * 

Chapter 316

Bredan’s awareness returned within a sea of blackness.

He had no sense of his body, or anything else; he was just a disembodied presence within the black.  He felt a momentary surge of panic, but without arms or legs to move or a heart to pound in his chest the sensation quickly faded.

After an interminable time he became aware of something, a tiny, distant point of light within the utter darkness.  It wasn’t much, just a pinprick, but being the only thing that was different, it drew his entire focus.  He had no idea how to move in this strange place, but as he continued to concentrate on the dot it began to grow bigger.  It became first a sphere, then as he got closer it began to differentiate until he could see that it was a web, a complex matrix of glowing points and connecting lines that formed a bright bubble in the dark.

He continued to draw nearer, and the web grew increasingly complex until he could not even begin to count the nodes that were connected to it.  His attention focused on one of those brighter points of light and it began to swell, until he could see that it too was made up of hundreds if not thousands of interconnected loci.  It all quickly became overwhelming, and as the pressure on his awareness intensified, he drew back until he could once more perceive the whole from a safe distance.

He studied it for an interval.  Time seemed to have no meaning here, or at least he lacked any point of reference to mark its passage.  He gradually became aware of something else.  There were other connections to the web, but these were coming from outside it.  There were tiny threads, many of them, some bright, and some dark.  He could not see where they originated; they all simply faded beyond his perceptions at some undefined distance from the web.  But the connections on the other end were more distinct.  He closed in again as he studied them, until he could how the threads split off into thousands of tiny tendrils that burrowed into the individual nodes, the tiny distinct points of light that he now knew were themselves additional webs that continued to subdivide in added complexity.  Wary of being caught once more, he carefully studied the outside connections.  They seemed to pulse with activity, minute beats that passed through them, sometimes going in, more often going out.

Bredan suddenly realized what he was seeing.  This was a depiction of what the book had tried to tell him.  The nodes were the lives that populated his world, and the threads and their root-like connectors were the presence of the outside entities that the Elderlore Libram wanted him to sever.

“Is this just an illusion, or the reality?” he asked.  He could not speak, of course, but he pulsed the question out as a thought.  But there was no response.

He found his attention drawn to another of the nodes.  It wasn’t through any active effort on his part; that one looked much like the others from the outside, with nothing special to draw his focus.  But he did not resist the subtle guidance that pushed him in that direction.

As he got closer, he could see that this node _was_ different.  It was dimmer than the others, lacking the layers within layers that he’d seen from the others that he’d examined.  But it was connected to the web with a particularly dense network of links, and the outside connections were so thick that they almost obscured it entirely once he got close enough to see the almost-invisible threads.  The node appeared to be inactive, with almost none of the pulses that he’d seen elsewhere.

“This is you, isn’t it?” he asked.  Again there was no response.

“So what is it you want me to do?”

There was a slight tremor of power.  As the sensation passed through him Bredan looked and saw that he now held a blazing sword of light in his hand.  His own form was still indistinct—the hand and the arm it was attached to was just a vague outline against the darkness—but the sword was almost painfully distinct, glowing with such intensity that he could only focus upon it briefly.

Knowledge came to him with the surety of instinct, and he knew the choice he had before him.  The sword could cut through the node here, and destroy the book in the process.  But he could do it with the precision of a surgeon or the violence of a warrior.  The former would separate the book’s node from the network but leave the rest of the connections intact.  The second would not harm the other nodes—the sword lacked the power to harm them—but would unravel the tendrils that connected to it from outside.  Somehow he knew that using the sword was the only way out of this place.

“I didn’t want this choice,” he said.  Again only silence answered, though the sword seemed to pulse slightly in his hand.  He wondered what would happen if he threw it into the void.  Would it form again in his hand, or would he be cursed to wander this null-space for an eternity?

“Bredan.”

The voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper, but the sound of it was so jarring here that at first Bredan thought he’d imagined it.  But then it came again, insistent in its intrusion into this otherwise silent space.

“Bredan?  Damn it, can you hear me?”

Bredan searched out the source of the voice.  At first it seemed an impossible task, but then he found himself drawn to a node situated quite close to the one that he’d identified as holding the book.  He zoomed in on it, shooting past the outermost layers until he was staring at a small globe of light.  The voice was coming from it.  Bredan recognized it.

“Rodan?”

“Bredan!  Where are you?”

“I’m here.  Inside the book, or someplace…”

“Damn it!  Snap out of it, we need you…”

Bredan realized that the tiefling could not hear him.  Through an effort of will he pressed further, until the node took on definition.  He came upon an invisible barrier at its boundary, keeping him from getting any closer, but from that vantage he could just make out a shimmering globe within the light.  Figures moved within that globe, and as he continued to focus, they took on definition.

He was looking at the vault, staring down at it from some point above the floor.  He could see the platform that held the book, and in a jarring shift of perspective see saw himself, standing motionless in front of it.  Both he and the book were surrounded by a pale blue glow, a sphere of light that formed a discrete bubble in the center of the room.

Rodan was on the edge of that circle.  He was clearly trying to get closer, but was being repelled by a field similar to the boundary that held Bredan’s consciousness at bay.  He could see the frustration on the tiefling’s face as he called out Bredan’s name again.

“I’m here,” Bredan said again, but there was no flicker of recognition to suggest the other man could hear him.  But after a moment Rodan seemed to gather himself.

“Bredan, I hope you can hear me,” he said.  “We made it here… most of us, anyway.  Quellan, Glori, and Xeeta are just outside.  The women are hurt, but Quellan says they’ll recover.  Kosk… Kosk died, Bredan.  He and the rest of Sond’s sailors.  Quellan brought him back once, but there’s nothing more that he can do for him now.  There were guardians… and Kavek.  Kavek attacked us.  He’s a spellcaster of some sort.”

Bredan felt a momentary surge of anger, but like all other emotions in this place it quickly faded.  He focused on Rodan’s words once more.

“Bredan, the book reached out to us.  It told us to tell you to sever the link.  It said that it could bring Kosk back if you did.  Maybe it was lying… I don’t know.  But we wanted to tell you, let you know that we trust you.  Gods, I hope you can hear me, that there’s a part of you in there that can hear me.  Do what you have to do, and come back to us, Bredan.”

Bredan allowed himself to drift back from the node.  He could still hear Rodan talking, but the voice faded as he returned to the outside perspective he’d had when he’d initially approached the glowing matrix.  He circled around it, circumnavigating the outer perimeter of the web.  He looked at the nodes, which he now understood represented all of the life of the world, his world.  Or maybe ‘represented’ was the wrong word.  Somehow, in this place that the book had taken him, he was literally watching life at it happened.  He could see flickers, individually faint, but taken as a whole an ongoing reinvention of the web.  Some of the nodes faded, while others slowly grew brighter as new points of light erupted within them.  It was a complex, ever-changing mosaic.  He knew he could spend his entire life studying it and would never be able to grasp more than its barest outline.

He focused again on the threads that connected to the network from outside.  He could see that they too were changing.  Growing, for the most part; probing deeper into the web, extending fresh tendrils that burrowed into the nodes, taking root until they could begin siphoning off the tiny flickers of energy that flowed out into the outer threads before they disappeared with them into someplace else.

Bredan had no idea how long he remained there, watching.  The sword remained steady in his grasp.  It did not grow heavy the way a mundane weapon would, but he never forgot that it was there.

“I can only be what I am,” he said.

He lifted the sword, and made his decision.


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## Lazybones

Chapter 317

A sharp wind blew over the ledge where Bredan sat, his back to the reassuring bulk of the stone wall that rose up high above him.  The wind was bitingly cold, but he barely felt it.

His gaze traveled over the city that stretched out below him.  Severon hadn’t changed in his absence; a sea of people still went about their daily lives, ignorant for the most part of the events that he and his companions had been drawn into.  Smoke rose from thousands of chimneys, joining to form a pall over the city that seemed to be immune to the wind.

A figure emerged from the large open gates that stood fifty paces along the length of the wall to his right.  She looked around for a moment before she spotted him and headed his way.

“The others were looking for you,” Glori said.

“I just needed a little time alone,” Bredan replied.

She nodded and sat down next to him.  “Nice view,” she said.

“Are you worried about what we’re about to do?”

“No.  Not really.  I know that there was some concern that it might be a trap.  A last game played upon us feeble mortals.”

“We wouldn’t be here at all without that last gift,” Glori said.  “I mean, we’d still be in Weltarin, probably still futzing about in the jungle.  Assuming some giant beast didn’t eat us.”

“We took on everything that continent threw at us,” Bredan said.

“Aye, we did.  I do feel a little bad about leaving Sond and her crew behind, though.”

“From what Quellan said, they were already well along toward building a new ship,” Bredan said.  “He’s staying in touch with her with that spell of his, right?”

“Yeah.  Still.  We got back in the blink of an eye, and they’ll be lucky to be back sometime next year.”

“How are you feeling, otherwise?” he asked.  “No… lasting effects?”

“Nothing.  It’s weird.  When I woke up… I told you this earlier, right?  The pattern was just there, in my mind.  When Konstantin first teleported us here—gods, that feels like an eternity ago—I never would have guessed that I would be doing it myself someday.”

“And here we are.”

“Yeah.  What about you?  Any lingering bits of ancient sentient book bouncing about in your psyche?”

“If it’s there, I can’t feel it,” Bredan said.  “Ever since the magic disappeared, I haven’t felt anything.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I’ll try to throw up a _shield_ when some bastard tries to shove a sword in my face, but overall… I never wanted the power, never let it define who I am.”

“There’s nothing else?” she prodded.  “Quellan says that you’ve been avoiding him.”

He looked over at her, but didn’t say anything.

“He doesn’t blame you, you know.  None of us do.”

“I know.  It’s just… I wonder what might have happened, if I’d made a different choice.”

“We can’t let ourselves think like that.  Those kinds of thoughts are like quicksand; one you get caught it’s really hard to get out.  Quellan said that the soul has a choice.  He says that where Kosk is now, he’s at peace.  If we’d been able to bring him back again… he’d have had to face judgment in Ironcrest for his past crimes.  This way he died a hero.  He’ll always live on in our memories that way.”

She coughed suddenly, and turned to clear her throat.  “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.  Just the smoke.  Wind’s blowing this way.”  She rubbed at her throat.

“Still sore?”

“Not really.  Just… sometimes I flash back to it, you know?  It’s funny, almost.  I’ve been hacked, blasted, wounded to within an inch of my life, but what traumatized me most was a bit of poison flung into my face.”

“It’s awful to feel yourself dying and be unable to stop it,” Bredan said.

“Yeah, well, that bastard got his.”  She looked at his face.  “What is it?”

Bredan shook his head.  “Nothing.  It’s just… it was a waste.  He had to know that he couldn’t beat you alone, and none of it ultimately had any effect on what happened.  It didn’t change my decision, Rodan coming in after me.  Kurok threw his life away.”

“He almost killed two of us,” Glori said.

“I know.  I told him, that if he hurt any of you I’d kill him myself.”

“Seems like he was doomed either way then,” Glori said.

“He attacked you, and he was complicit in multiple murders.  He got what he deserved.  But Kurok also seemed to honestly want what was best for his people.  And he saved my life several times, including at the end with Kalasien—the doppelganger.”

“Maybe… maybe he didn’t see any other way out,” Glori said.  “I mean, his secret was out, and whatever you chose, there wasn’t going to be many alternatives for him.  He not only betrayed us, but his former masters as well.  I can’t imagine there was any scenario where he’d be able to go back.”

“Yeah.  I understand what you’re saying.  I just keep thinking about him.”

She clapped him on the leg.  “Empathy is not a weakness, Bredan.  In fact, it’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”  She looked back up the mass of the wall behind them.  “Maybe we can do something to accomplish what he sought.  Come on, they’re waiting.”

He got up, the heavy steel of his dwarf-forged armor clanking a bit as he picked up his sword and slung it across his back.  The armor had been repaired and polished, and now almost seemed to glow in the early winter sunlight.  The light also flashed on Glori’s hand, where a platinum band set with three large diamonds circled her fourth finger.

She noted his attention and grinned.  “Let’s go.”

The interior of the Monastery of the Quiet Path lived up to its name; the open buildings were silent and empty as they made their way through the gates and into the central courtyard.  The monks had all been temporarily moved down into the city, part of the secrecy that had accompanied the planning for this mission.

Glori glanced over at him as they made their way up the steps toward the main building.  “You want to say a few words to the group?  You’re as responsible for bringing them all together as anyone.”

Bredan shook his head.  “When it comes to inspiring the troops, I’m going to leave it to you,” he said.  “I’m just a warrior with a big sword.”

She snorted and hurried up the steps.

The diminutive figure of the abbot was waiting for them in the doorway that led into the great hall.  “The others are in the Chamber of Reflection,” Anaeus said.

“Thank you, abbot,” Glori said.

“May the gods favor your path,” the abbot said.  His eyes lingered on Bredan for a moment, then he stepped past them out into the open air.

They could hear voices and the sounds of activity before they made their way into the large room where everyone was gathered.  For a moment the din continued when they came in, but as they noticed them it faded into a hush of anticipation.

Gregoros Konstantin came over to them.  “We’re ready,” he said.

Glori and Bredan stepped forward together.  Those gathered were clustered in groups around the edges of the room, staying well clear of the complex design that had been marked upon the floor in the center of the room.  Tables had been brought in to hold the gear that had been prepared for their mission, but they were mostly empty now, as everyone had what they needed on their person.  A few people double-checked the fit of a piece of armor or checked the slide of a sword in a scabbard before they turned to the new arrivals with looks of expectation on their faces.

Bredan looked around the room, taking it all in.  Familiar faces, all of them.  Konstantin rejoined his colleague, Arcanist Javerin from the Apernium.  Both wizards were clad in practical robes with their pouches of spell components and other arcane accessories close at hand.  Off to the left, Embrae Kelandras and Majerion stood together.  The monk met Bredan’s eyes and nodded in sympathy, while the bard’s fingers caressed a new silver lyre, idly strumming a few notes.  The two elves stood opposite Darik Broadshield and Goran Thunderhammer of the Ironcrest dwarves.  Both dwarves were clad in suits of heavy armor similar to the suit Bredan wore.  The younger warrior carried a battle axe with a broad crescent blade, but the priest of Sorevas, recently arrived from the dwarven city, looked no less fierce with his heavy mace and shield emblazoned with the burning brand of his patron.

Finally, Bredan’s gaze turned to his friends.  They all looked recovered from their ordeal in Weltarin, with new clothes and gear, their physical wounds healed.  But he knew it would take longer for all of the scars of that journey to fade.  But Xeeta, Rodan, and Quellan all looked to him, and Bredan saw only trust and faith in their eyes.

Everyone was waiting, presumably for him to speak, but he only turned and gestured Glori forward.

The bard walked up to the edge of the _teleportation circle_ that she had scribed.  She was confident, assured, up to the challenge of talking to men and women older and more experienced than she.  They had all changed, Bredan thought.  Forged in the fire of shared danger and deadly ordeals.  They’d each gained in power, but it was only when they were together that they were able to reach their true potential.

“Centuries ago, our peoples joined against a common enemy,” Glori said.  “An alliance against a foe that represented an existential threat to the three kingdoms.”

“Now, a new threat has arisen.  We stand on the cusp of a moment that has come to this world before.  The Mai’i failed to deal with this danger, and it ultimately destroyed them.”

“The Elderlore Libram was created to serve its masters, to aid them in their pursuit of knowledge and power.  But what it recognized was that power also has a cost.  There are entities out there in the worlds beyond, ancient things that want what we have.  They crave power too, and see our world as just another prize to be won, its peoples merely as potential slaves… or fodder.”

“We’ve all faced these things.  They were responsible for the attack on Ironcrest, for the attempt to seize control of the Reserve of Tal Nadesh.  They were behind the violent ambition of Kavel Murgoth, and the deaths that followed his useless war.  Those attempts were all defeated, but they weren’t the end of it.  We now know that these entities, these outsiders, have agents in all of our kingdoms.  They have infiltrated us with tendrils of influence and intrigue.  They seek to undermine us, to sunder our unity and use our own weaknesses against us.”

“The Elderlore Libram thought that the best way to protect us was to sever ourselves from the worlds beyond ours.  But the price for that choice was too high to pay.”  She glanced aside at Bredan, met his eyes for a moment.  “But the book gave us a last gift.”  She extended a hand toward the complex pattern at her feet.  “I cannot tell you exactly what we will find when we step through this doorway.  It would be naiveté in its most extreme form to assume that this fight will be won with one bold stroke.  But we have learned what we can, prepared as best we can.  We aren’t just going to sit back and let this foe weaken our defenses until it is ready to strike again.  Old allies have come together, and together we will put an end to this danger that threatens all of us.”

“Today, friends, we strike back.”

She gestured and they all came forward, forming a ring at the edge of the circle.  Her eyes traveled around to each of them, confirming that they were all ready.  Finally, her gaze returned to Bredan.  “Ready?” she asked.

He met her eyes and smiled.  “Let’s do this.”

She strummed her lyre, filling the air with a soft melody.  The markings upon the floor began to glow, and a shimmer materialized within the circle.

“Let’s kick some ass,” Glori said.  She stepped forward, followed immediately by all of the others.  As they entered the shimmering field they glowed for a moment and then disappeared.  As the last of them vanished the light coming from the portal briefly intensified until it dissolved into nothing, leaving the chamber empty.


THE END


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## Lazybones

Well, there it is. Another story finished. As always, it ended up longer and more complicated than I planned when I started (over 400,000 words altogether!). Obviously, I could have kept it going past this final cliffhanger, but I’ve been writing this story for almost two years and this felt like a good place to leave our heroes, with one quest finished and another about to begin. I had toyed with keeping the ending vague, leaving it unclear whether Bredan had in fact accepted the Libram’s offer, but I ultimately decided to go with the current ending.

I hope you all enjoyed _Forgotten Lore_. My plan is to turn the story into novels at some point, trimming down the random encounters and removing the D&D-specific elements. Who knows, maybe I’ll even come back and write a twelfth book of the story someday, like I did with the _Shackled City_ and _Doomed Bastards_ stories. If and when any of that does happen, I’ll post an update here. I’d be happy to give any readers of this story hour a free copy of the final work.

Until then, you can read my stuff at Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Lazybones) or Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Kenneth-McDonald/e/B005F5I9XA). Thanks for reading!


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## Neurotic

Thank you for your time and effort. It was another good story, less epic in power and scope, but still gripping.


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## Lazybones

Glad you enjoyed it. It's a lot quieter here now than back when I was posting my earlier stories, but I enjoy getting the feedback of regular readers. These stories have always been a fun way of familiarizing myself with new editions of D&D.


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## Neurotic

Lazybones said:


> These stories have always been a fun way of familiarizing myself with new editions of D&D.



Yes, it is quieter. 

Maybe you could familiarize yourself with PF 2?


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## Lazybones

I have published the first part of _Forgotten Lore _as an ebook at Smashwords. It's cleaned up, edited, and trimmed down a bit (I removed the D&D-specific elements to avoid any copyright issues with WotC/Hasbro). The book is available in most of the major ebook formats, including mobi/Kindle, epub, and PDF. It's a free release, and I plan on releasing the other books later this year. I will leave the the complete story here in its original format for folks to enjoy.









						Secrets of a Lost Age, an Ebook by Kenneth McDonald
					

Four would-be heroes, each with their own ambitions, talents, and secrets, are brought together to seek out a lost treasure of a long-faded empire. What they find is an unexpected camaraderie and purpose. Drawn into a broader series of events that could potentially endanger the kingdom of...




					www.smashwords.com


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