Author Archives: gamemaster

The Rokiriki Attack

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The first full day at Zebarin had cool and partly cloudy, but dry, and the Earl had decided to hunt boar, having heard from the Constable that a particularly large and dangerous one had recently plagued the area. Several of the noble retainers and guests, as well as a slew of servants, had accompanied the Earl and the Constable on the hunt, including Vulk and Ser Andro. The latter had seemed in an unusually foul mood since they had arrived at Zebarin, and he barely spoke to his companions, save for the Earl himself, and their host the Constable. Indeed, to Ser Coreth he seemed almost maniacally polite and excruciatingly proper.

Drake and Devrik were also along as beaters, which turned out to be lucky. When a group of rokiriki, the vicious harpies of popular legend, had attacked the party it had been a near thing for the Earl. When the shrieking, stinking winged creatures had dropped down on them, the Earl’s horse had reared, and his saddle straps had broken, sending him to the ground. Briefly dazed, he had been vulnerable, but Devrik had managed to divert his attackers long enough for the Earl to regain his feet and his spear.

The fight was short and bloody, but with no casualties on their side apart from cuts and abrasions, none terribly serious. The party returned to Zebarin with no boar and many questions. Why had the rokiriki attacked? No one had smelled the tell-tale stench that would have placed them near to a nesting area; the nearest cliffs were over a mile away, in any case.

Why had the Earl’s saddle strap parted? Examination was inconclusive… the leather had broke near the buckle, and looked worn rather than cut, but that was easy enough to fake. The groom who had saddled the horse swore he’d checked it, but was beaten anyway by the head ostler for his incompetence.

They had seen no sign of the boar, yet discreet questioning had revealed that several peasants had indeed reported experiencing its predations in the last tenday, although no one was quite sure who exactly it had been; it always was someone’s brother who heard, or a visitor from the next village over who told the tale, which was passed on to the Constable’s men. Was it possible they had simply missed the beast, or sought it in the wrong area?

Both Ser Kovar and Lord Clarin were impressed by the quick reactions and combat skills of Vulk, Drake and especially Devrik. The Earl actually thanked Devrik for the fierce attack that had kept the beasts off him until he could regain his feet, and Ser Kovar decided to move him up closer to the Earl in the standard marching order on the road.

Bit the next two days were to be spent with the Earl and the Constable going over the books for the fief, leaving the rest of the entourage free time to do as they would…

 

Joining the Earl’s Progress

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Through the Portal on Chalkman’s Hill

In the days that followed Vulk’s knighting by the Earl, Vulk, Devrik and Mariala threw themselves into their studies, while Drake, with Erol’s assistance, made all the preparations for the journey to Nolkior. While the arcanists spent almost every waking hour buried in the art and science of Vortex control and spell research, Drake and Erol purchased supplies, collected the (very substantial) profits from the Fortune’s Favor, exchanged money for gems and promissory notes, honed weapons and polished armour. On the 28th the two rode out to Elidar Manor, where Erol purchased a fine horse from Vulk’s uncle at quite a reasonable price.

The next day both Vulk and Devrik announced that they felt able to handle the rigors of a Nitarin Vortex, and that the attempt should be made that very night. Dusk found the group, along with Master Vetaris, gathered outside the ring of standing stones on the hill overlooking both the town and the sea.

“Good luck, my young friends,” the older mage said. “I’ve every faith that you’ll achieve the end you seek. But I have business of my own to attend to now, so I bid you farewell.”

With that he gestured towards the ring of towering stones, stepped between two of them, and vanished in a ripple of light whose color the eye failed to really comprehend, able at best to perceive it as a sort of violet just beyond the edge of sight.

Then Vulk and Devrik stepped forward, with Mariala, Drake and Erol just behind them. It had been decided that Vulk would make the first attempt at opening the portal, with Devrik there to back him up should he need it. But in the event, it seemed no help was needed – making the ritual gestures and speaking the prayer he had been taught, Vulk staggered back in surprise as a flare of non-color erupted in the heart of the circle, then faded, leaving the air rippling like the water of a still pond after a stone has been dropped in.

“That was… unexpected,” Vulk said, shaking his head. “The power was so much greater than I expected; I almost lost control.”

“Hmm, but you didn’t” Devrik grunted. “Impressive. The goddess must truly favor you; when I opened the portal, it was much smaller and didn’t last long… this seems very… solid.”

“Perhaps,” Mariala interjected, “ but there’s no telling how long it will stay open, so if we’re going, let’s go!”

With that Cris brought forward the horses, and Vulk, taking the reigns of his own steed, led the way into the rippling air of the Vortex. Mariala followed with her horse, then Erol, Drake, Raven, Blackhawk, and Cris leading Kemis the mule. Devrik and Brann brought up the rear, and as they stepped forward into the portal and vanished it flared once again and was gone.

♦

At that moment, almost 400 miles to the east, the group walked out of a cleft in a tall cliff face that was flanked by two ancient standing stones. The cliff topped a hill that overlooked a long, narrow valley, and a winding path led down into a dark wood. In the distance, to the southeast, could be seen the dark bulk of a large castle and the faint lights of a town.

“Well, I think we made it,” Drake exclaimed, slapping Vulk on the back. ‘I’d know this country in any light. We’re about five miles from Vinkara! So, do we try to make it there tonight, or camp in the wood below until dawn?”

Joining the Cavalcade

The next three days were a cyclone of activity for everyone in Vinkara, including the group. Entering the town at dawn on the 30th, they quickly sought out Drake’s brother amidst the excitement of the second day of the Earl’s tournament. They found him, encamped with the rest of the Hand of Vengeance, just outside Kar Vinkara.

After introductions to the new members of the mercenary company Colith/Alakor led the friends to their first meeting with the Earl of Kinen in his private solar in the castle. They were greeted first by Ser Kovar Delcanus, the Captain of the Wyvern Guard, an intense young man who obviously took his responsibility for the Earl’s safety very seriously.

“I should warn you about Wyvern,” Ser Kovar told them before they entered the solar. “His lordship’s great wolfhound is always nearby, and is very protective of the Earl – never make sudden moves towards his lordship unless you wish to lose some flesh! The earl considers Wyvern a good judge of character, so do your best not to show fear to the beast…”

The meeting with the Earl was equally intense, even after they had each apparently passed Wyvern’s sniff test… though the dog, laying at his master’s feet, never took his eyes off the visitors. A tall, imposing man, with dark hair just beginning to be shot with gray, and penetrating slate-gray eyes, the Earl spent an hour questioning the companions about their abilities and recent adventures. It was hard to read his rather stoic expression, except when it came to mention of his wife – there, his depth of feeling came sharply through his noble mask.

When the talk turned to the Constable of Dür, he listened to the tale that Drake told, companion to the one he’d already heard from Colith, but gave little indication what he thought of it.

“My agents in the capital tell me that there has been a notable increase in illicit drugs in the city of late,” he said when Drake had finished. “Deaths have resulted, and increased violence. With a possible Succession Crisis looming, this is another bit of instability the realm can ill afford. If it could be proved that the Constable is involved in this, then he would surely be hanged.

“But I’m afraid the unsupported word of two commoners, who could be perceived to have a grudge, is insufficient. Forgive my bluntness, but that’s simply the way of it. Personally, I don’t doubt your story… I’ve long wondered at the sources of Ser Danyes unexplained wealth, beyond the peculation I’ve already uncovered. This drug trade could explain much.

“A few months ago, my own agents finally obtained a copy of the accounts paid by the Constable to his liege, the Earl of Buran. I then sent them traveling from manor to manor, comparing what was paid out to what the Earl received. They confirmed, and documented, that Ser Danyes is skimming large amounts from the fiefdom of Dür. I intend to present the evidence of this to Lord Torad in Kolosür, during the tournament.

“Which will certainly mean the man’s dismissal from his post. But if he is indeed involved in this epidemic of drugs that threatens the realm, then I want to see him hanged, alongside those with whom he conspires. If you can find proof of his complicity, then I will present it myself to both the Earl of Buran and the King.”

In the end he agreed to make space in his entourage for the party, and grant them leave to seek out evidence against the Constable of Dür over the course of the Progress, if they would render certain services in return – Mariala he wished to provide arcane protection for his wife, fearing such an attack against his wife if his enemies couldn’t harm him directly; Vulk he assigned as junior herald to his Chamberlain and chief herald, Ser Gorlin Faragar.

“He has held the post of Herald for more than 25 years,” the Earl said, “and been my Chamberlain for 16 years. His knowledge of Kinenshire is unsurpassed; indeed, I often suspect that Ser Gorlin directed the Immortals as they put Kinenshire on Novendo’s green face.

“He speaks with my voice, and oversees every aspect of my household, with the exception of security, which is handled by Ser Kovar. You will be under his authority while a part of my household.”

Drake, as Cantor Vulk’s batman, would of course remain near Vulk, while Devrik and Erol were to be assigned as men-at-arms by Ser Kovar as he saw fit on a day-to-day basis. The “servants” would simply blend in with the rest of the noble household help.

After their meeting with the Earl, the rest of the day was spent meeting the various members of the household and integrating into the developing cavalcade, with enough free time to attend the final melee of the day at the tournament.

Gathered in Colith’s tent after supper, the group compared notes and impressions. It was agreed that Ser Gorlin seemed quite decent for such an elderly fellow, if a bit brusque and distracted with the work of getting the household ready to move. Alakor said that the Chamberlain and Ser Kovar worked closely, and had a very good relationship – it would be wise to stay on the good side of both men if they hoped to accomplish their goals!

Mariala had been introduced to the Lady Lania, the Earl’s crippled wife, and the Maid Carissa, his youngest child. The lady was abed in her chambers within the castle, attended by her daughter and Hila, the former nursemaid to all three of the lady’s children, and now in charge of her mistress’s care.

“It’s very sad,” Mariala said. “She seems to be aware, I think, but she can’t speak or move except to blink… at best she makes noises, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to speak, or… but mostly she is silent and just lies there.

“It’s obvious the Earl loves his wife very much, and is greatly distressed by her condition… I watched them together before he left us alone, and he was so tender…”

“Yes,” offered Erol, “I heard a minstrel singing a song today at the tourney, about the eternal love and devotion of the Earl for his lady wife. The crowed seemed moved by it, though it seemed rather mushy to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that in front of the Earl, or any of his people – they all seem very devoted to him, and to his wife,” Mariala advised.

“Maid Carissa is a very sweet girl, about 16, and seems very bright. After her mother drifted off to sleep she questioned me relentlessly about my “adventures” in the world. She claims she wants to become a healer of Mara, but that it was a secret because her father disapproves, and she has no desire to marry some old knight, and do I know real magic… her questions left me quite breathless!” Mariala laughed.

“I was less amused by the Lady Milosia Valador, Lady Lania’s sister-in-law,” she went on. “She showed up while Carissa and I were talking, and made it quite clear that she was in charge of Lady Lania’s chambers, as the senior noblewoman (after Lady Lania, of course) of the Earl’s court. She seems a terrible bully to the maids, but once Carissa mentioned my family name, and the fact that I was “a powerful sorceress,” the lady became rather less huffy with me.

“I was inclined to chastise the child for blurting out my status as T’ara Kul, but on the whole I think it was for the best, if I’m going to have to spend much time with Lady Milosia.”

“Well, we had the pleasure of meeting her husband, Lord Andro, after the melee today,” Vulk offered. “Drake and I were introduced, and I thought for a moment he wouldn’t deign to speak to a mere cantor, never mind his “man,” but when he heard my “Ser” he unbent enough to offer a greeting.”

“A rather cool greeting,” Drake added. “And he hardly more than glanced at me before dismissing me.”

“He is Lady Lania’s younger brother, and a long-time confidant of the Earl,” Alakor said. “He’s a bit of an ass, as far as I can see, but seems harmless… unless you’re a groom who gets in his way; he’s known for having a quick hand with his riding crop or cane.”

“I heard several of the men-at-arms talking about him this afternoon,” Erol offered. “They say he was deeply offended when the Earl made a “jumped-up peasant” the Constable of Zebarin three years ago, rather than a nobleman ‘who can trace his ancestry back to the Restoration…’ himself, I’m guessing.”

“Yes,” Alakor agreed, “I’ve heard much the same, but I don’t know which actually chafed him more: the fact that he was passed over, or that it was Ser Coreth Lothlar who got the position. Ser Coreth was born to peasant stock and knighted for bravery in the battle where he lost an eye… something I can relate to,” he added, touching his own eye patch. “But Ser Andro is very proud of his long lineage…”

“Has anyone met the Lady’s physician yet,” Vulk asked. “I’m to meet with this Ser Petral in the morning, to go over his prognosis before I attempt my healing touch.”

“I’ve met him, of course,” Alakor said. “He seems a decent fellow, and very devoted to m’lady. A little brainy for my liking, but that’s to be expected. He’s said to be quite skilled by those he’s treated, though the Hand has yet to need his services.”

“Well, I suppose tomorrow will bring me the chance to observe the man myself,” Vulk sighed, rising to take his leave. “But I’m exhausted, and my bed is calling!”

With that the party dispersed to their various bivouacs and rest.

On the Road to Zebarin

The morning of 2 Emblio started in a light fog, shrouding the departing cavalcade in a muffled blanket of swirling white. But by the second watch the mist had lifted and the day proved to be a warm and clear one, with a gentle breeze.

It was a short trip, just a few leagues, to Zebarin Keep, the first stop on the Earl’s Progress, and they traveled slowly, giving Ser Gorlin the opportunity to work the kinks out of the order of marching and correct any last minute deficiencies. It also gave the group a quiet time to reflect on what they had learned in the last two days in Vinkara.

Vulk’s meeting with the physician, Ser Petral Aswain, had gone quite well. The man was clearly a skilled physician, part of a clan well known in northern Nolkior for its healers. He was more than willing to show the young cantor the nutritious potion of his own devising, which he calls “Torazium,” which keeps the Earl’s wife alive.

“But Lady Lania is slowly dying,” he told Vulk bluntly, before they went ion to see her. “And there is little I can do except make her more comfortable. My greatest fear is that the long, rough trip ahead of us will be the death of her… but the Earl fears that without help, she will die anyway.

“With some noblemen, I would be in great fear for my own well-being, but the Earl, for all his stoic demeanor, is a compassionate man; he has reassured me more than once that he knows the risks and will not hold me responsible if she dies. But I would give much to see that that does not come to pass… she was… is a kind and noble lady…”

The group had considered, based on a certain logic and several rumors picked up in the last several days, that perhaps Ser Petral was in fact slowly poisoning Lady Lania with his “Torazium,” but they could find no evidence of it, and both Vulk and Mariala grew certain, the more they interacted with the man, that he was not capable of such a crime.

Mariala did find a faint trace of the arcane in his potion, but it was benign, not malicious; now they wonder if Ser Petral knows that his potion has been given a “magic” boost, or was it someone else? In any case, it seems to be doing her no harm, and may in fact be keeping her alive…

Ser Petral was not surprised when Vulk’s healing touch seemed to have little effect on Lady Lania, beyond perhaps making her rest more comfortably. He was sympathetic, and seemed more than willing to talk shop with the cantor, imparting a great deal of information about the healing arts as they prepared the lady for the journey. Vulk wondered if he should introduce Drake to their talks on healing; perhaps he could glean something that would help with their own researches into the Baylora Fungus…

♦

Mariala rode in the special wagon the Earl had commissioned to make his wife’s journey as painless as possible, along with Maid Carissa and Nursemaid Hila. Inside, it has a custom-built bed with a thick feather mattress that is suspended from the ceiling by braided leather straps to minimize jarring. Both Ser Petral and Lady Milosia spent some of the journey in the wagon with them, tending to the lady’s needs or just sitting with her.

In the days leading up to the departure Mariala spent much of her time in the company of both mother and daughter, and came to be quite fond of the Earl’s youngest child. A romantic teen, with dreams of life beyond the lonely solitude of Vinkara, the girl took instantly to Mariala and her perceived aura of adventure and excitement. She found Raven, presented as Mariala’s bodyguard, to be very exotic, but also a little intimidating. She grew more quiet during those times when Raven rode in the wagon with them, at least at first/

Talking together when they were alone (save for Lady Lania), the girl’s loneliness became obvious even as it lifted, and a truly sunny disposition emerged. Her father’s Progress was obviously the most exciting thing ever to happen to the sixteen-year-old – she had never before been outside Kinenshire. The opportunity to visit her elder sister (Lady Thalisa, wife of the Earl of Yorma), see Rivona Abbey (Carissa fancies herself a Maran), greet her cousins at Wynalis, see the fabled city of Shalara and go to the Royal Bellanin Tournament in Kolosür have her positively jumping for joy. Even on this first day, she was making plans for all the things she and Mariala would see and do over the next two months…

♦

Vulk rode near the middle-front of the cavalcade with Captain Ser Kovar and Ser Petral, with Drake several files back amongst the noble retainers – close enough to be called for, but clearly not a part of the noble circle. Fortunately Drake found this more amusing than anything else, and got his own back by teasing his friend mercilessly about his new high station when they were alone.

Devrik, Erol and Blackhawk were scattered amongst the men-at-arms that guarded the noble procession, each of them making friends of both mercenaries and feudal retainers. It was from these new contacts that they first heard rumors of strange flying creatures have been spotted in increasing numbers along Rüniral Ridge; that Sheriff Tulath Kalafon is deeply in debt to an usurer in Shalara; and that Ser Denyes, the Constable of Dür, was caught recently on a compromising position with the wife of Ser Ertus Namas.

They also took every opportunity to get on the good side of Taral Plair, the Earl’s cook, cellarer and food taster. An obese man, no matter the temperature, he seems to sweat constantly, repeatedly mopping his brow with his dishcloth. Seemingly always on the verge of a heart attack, he struggles to keep up. Friendly, helpful and polite, he was appreciative of any kindness, and the companions were quick to befriend him. Now they often find themselves the sly recipients of sweetmeats and dainties slipped from the Earl’s table. With His Lordship’s permission, the Wyvern Guard get the leftovers from the Earl’s table, and Taral makes enough to ensure they eat very well.

In Vinkara, he is assistant cook under Sweldur Gron, but for this trip, he works personally for Lord Clarin. A favorite of the Earl, he is also well liked by Ser Gorlin and the other servants; his fine singing voice and endless supply of hilarious and bawdy trail songs make him the centre of attention around the campfire.

Cris and Kemis ride with the baggage portion of the train, and the young former street urchin has begun to turn into a fairly savvy intelligence gatherer amongst the servants – he has turned out to be surprisingly good at keeping his ears open and his mouth shut. It was he who heard a disturbing, whispered story that Lady Lania’s palsy was caused by the Earl himself, when he struck her in anger and she hit her head on a stone fireplace.

He has also become friends with Esar Keriel, apprentice to the Ostler Donar Harabor. Though old for an apprentice, at 23, Esar seems clever, strong and brave; he has to be to risk life and limb tending warhorses. On the night before the journey began Cris saw him break up two battling stallions, showing a self-confidence that the horses could sense. As could Cris, who seems a bit smitten with his new friend…

♦

In the early afternoon the Earl’s train arrived a the Keep of Zebarin, where they were greeted by the Constable and his chief retainers. The nobles rode on to the keep for a welcoming feast, while the common retainers remained to set up the camp on the local Common. They would be here for three days, during which there might be time to investigate Dür, only five leagues south…

Aftermath of the Treachery Beneath the Waves

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The group enjoyed several days of being praised, over-fed and generally celebrated by the grateful families of Port Kethim. The Port Master insisted that they lodge in his home, which had more than enough guest rooms to accommodate the heros of the hour. For once, Vulk and Drake didn’t have to share, which certainly made it easier to entertain those attractive townsfolk who wished to express their gratitude more… privately.

The Tritani were also grateful for the great service the friends had rendered them; and although they were seriously occupied in dealing with the wreckage and grief left behind by the false “princess,” on the third day a delegation arrived to hold a fete for the heros and the townspeople. The surface dwellers followed the Rous River some two kilometers inland, to a series of pools in the midst of a sunny glade surrounded by ancient oak trees, while the merfolk reached the same spot via underwater caves.

This was the Gareth Vall, the Meeting Place, where the Tritani had for centuries met with their surface-dwelling subjects and visitors. The pools and surrounding land had been fashioned in such a way as to allow the two peoples to dine and converse together easily, with the Umantari laying on low dining couches, in the Oceanian style, while the Tritani lounged half-submerged. Each group provided food for the feast, allowing both to enjoy foods not normally available to them, the harvest of both the sea and the shore.

The leaders of the Tritani delegation were Lord Korak, the Prince’s son and heir, and the High Priest Azador. Both were much recovered from their injuries, thanks in part to Vulk’s healing abilities, offered to help relieve the burden on the merfolk’s own healers, overwhelmed as they were with the injured. Both dignitaries bore gifts for the friends. The Heir formally presented them with the caskets of pearls that had been promised for each, the light but strong armour that had been crafted for Vulk, Mariala and Devrik, and the trident and shock-net, as well as armour, for Erol. Drake received a scroll of eel leather containing numerous tracts on the aquatic apothecary arts.

Azador then presented each of the companions with three mother-of-pearl vials, stoppered in white wax stamped with the trident sigil, containing the merfolk’s own version of the water-breathing potion.

“It lasts twice as long as the common version generally found amongst surface folk,” he said. “It is our offer to you all to visit us whenever you wish; you will always be welcome in the coral halls of Sha Hesima. You also have the Prince’s leave to travel where you will within his realm, as token of which he presents you with these.” He held out five oval plaques of gold coral, carved with the royal sigil of Hesima, each hung from a chain of braided gold.

Later, as the festivities began to wind down, Azador motioned Vulk to move aside with him, to a small pool somewhat removed from the others. When they were alone he pulled a small piece of eel skin parchment. On it was drawn a strange symbol, resembling a black three armed star, with the arms bent counterclockwise, over a similar shape in red at a different angle.

“We found this symbol etched and enameled into the metal of that accursed tiara the sea witch wore,” he explained,” as well as tattooed on the inner side of her left wrist, beneath one of her bracelets.

“None of our scribes or heralds recognizes it as belong to either the Tritani or the Arcutha… I was hoping that you, as a herald yourself, might know it from the surface world.”

“I’m sorry,” Vulk replied after examining the drawing carefully, “but it is completely unfamiliar to me as well. Both the tattoo and mark were in these two colors? Black and… what shade exactly would you call the other?”

“A deep crimson,” sighed the priest, obviously disappointed. “This copy is a very fair approximation. Both inks were such as are commonly used both below and above the waves.

“But I can’t help but feel this is significant,” he continued,” if only because it appeared twice in this affair. I think it should be brought to the Council’s attention.”

“I agree,” said Vulk. “May I keep this drawing?”

“Certainly, I have several others at home. I assume I can trust you to mention this in your report?”

With Vulk’s agreement the two returned to the festivities, and another round of speeches before the final sweets course of the feast. It was late afternoon before the party began wending its way back to the town.

While the group had been feasting, the crew of the Fortune’s Favor, under the watchful eye of her First Mate, had been busy loading up the cargo of undersea trade items the Tritani had brought with them. Captain Levtor was anxious to return to his ship and oversee the final stowing of goods and go over the manifest with the Port Master one last time. This trip promised to return a very nice profit, very nice indeed…

 

The ship sailed the next morning with the lesser tide, but contrary winds meant they didn’t reach Devok until late afternoon. Returning to their rooms at the Inn of the Cloven Shield, Drake found a letter from his brother Alakor waiting for him. It had arrived the day after they had sailed for Port Kethim, and it’s urgent news from Nolkior had only become more urgent with the passing days.

Over dinner in Mariala’s room that night the Drake read the deciphered letter aloud to his companions, including Raven and Black Hawk:

 

11 Agras 3018

Dear Draik,

I trust this missive finds you well, and finds you quickly. I would that your friend Mariala’s magical parchment was good for more than just a few words, but where magic falls short, we must rely on the Royal Post, eh?

I have recruited a solid group of men (and two women, a first for the Hand!) to fill out the Company. We are currently in Vinkara, in the employ of Lord Clarin, the Earl Kinen, for reasons that will soon become clear. This changes out plan to meet in Shalara on Midsummer’s Day, and I pray you are able to meet this new schedule.

As you may recall, the Earl has always been something of a recluse and homebody – tucked away here in the northeast, far from the intrigues of the heartland, our home shire always suited his quiet nature. For twenty years he has seldom travelled far from home, except for his annual inspection of his holdings in Kinenshire and his meeting with the King in Bürkon each autumn to pay his feudal dues.

But this month he announced, to the amazement of all (and the fear of a few, I think) that he intends to make a great Progress through the kingdom and attend the Royal Bellanin Tournament in Kolosür! He plans to hold a tournament in Vinkara at the end of the month, culminating on Maita Lai, to select three champions from his lands to represent him at the Royal Tournament. The excitement has everyone in an uproar, and every boy with a wooden sword is practicing night and day in the hopes of winning a place in the Earl’s entourage.

The reason’s for the Earl’s actions are a mystery, but of course that doesn’t stop the gossips from wagging their tongues (nor everyone else from having an opinion). His lordship has given several explanations that I’m aware of – he wishes to inspect his more distant holdings at Zebarin, Bürkon and especially Rägnol, which he visits seldom; to attend the Tournament with his champions, and meet in private audience with King Garinalt; to visit his daughter, Lady Thilisa, wife to the missing Earl of Yorma, in Urkonis; and to attend the Summer Fair in Shalara to negotiate some long term contracts for fleeces from his lands.

There are other, darker possible reasons, seldom more than whispered. Two years ago a Naventhülian assassin attempted to kill the Earl, and he’s been on guard ever since; it may be that he wishes to lure his unknown enemy out by leaving his secure base. If this is the case, he’s either a very brave man or a very desperate one!

But I think the most likely reason for this trip is his wife. Lady Lania suffered a terrible palsy several years ago, which left her crippled and speechless. Healers have tried to cure her malady, but the best have only managed to keep her alive. Rumor has it that the Maran hospital at Rivona, with it’s amazing mineral springs, has brought relief to similar sufferers, and it is on the planned itinerary.

But what has all of this to do with us, and our quest for justice against the cursed Danyes Bernan, you ask? The Earl is a man of sharp perceptions, an excellent judge of character, and he has long been suspicious of that false “nobleman.” Especially of his seemingly bottomless purse. The Earl has had agents monitoring Bernan since he was appointed Constable of Dür three years ago, but the man is simply too skilled at hiding his tracks.

But at last the Earl’s agents have uncovered proof that the Constable has been bleeding his fief, skimming tremendous amounts of money from his liege lord, the Earl of Buran. Earl Kinen plans to present the evidence to his fellow earl at Kolosür. While this may get the bastard removed from office, it may not be enough to get him hanged. I’ve shared my knowledge of Bernan’s trading in illicit drugs, but with that idiot Ardath mind-wiped after his trial, I have no eye-witness to back up my knowledge.

The Earl is willing to give me time to bring him proof, and has hired the Hand of Vengeance as extra security on his Progress – the captain of his personal security, the Wyvern Guard, is my old friend Kovar Delcanus… Ser Kovar now… and it was his speaking for me that tipped the scales. He believes that Bernan has learned of the Earl’s evidence, and will stop at nothing to prevent it from being delivered. With that threat on top of potential Naventhülian assassins and some shadowy, unknown enemy, he wants all the help he can get in protecting his lord.

I’ve told Kovar and the Earl about you and your friends, emphasizing your skill at uncovering plots and the machinations of the dark cults. I’m not sure the Earl quite believes me, but he’s willing to find places for you all in his entourage, if you can get here before Midsummer’s Day. He was intrigued by my tales of Vulk’s healing powers… although others have tried to cure Lady Lania he is always ready to seek some miracle. His status as a noble herald and cantor of Kasira doesn’t hurt. Lord Clarin was also interested in Mariala’s abilities, as he has been searching for months for someone capable of providing arcane protection for his wife on the journey. I hope Mariala will forgive my indiscretion, but I was really trying to sell you all as being indispensable to my efforts to put the final log on the Constable’s pyre. Although I thought it best not to mention Devrik’s more uncanny abilities – his fighting skill is credential enough, and I like to leave some surprises in reserve, as you know. Your own skills with herbs and gadgets falls into that category as well…

King Garinalt’s recent illness has been a boon to us (though I wish His Majesty full health and a long life, of course) as it has delayed both the Summer Fair and the Royal Bellanin Tournament by almost a month.

So, get here as fast as you can my brother. If this reaches you by the 19th, as the Royal Postmaster in Vinkara assures me it should, that leaves just enough time for you to get here by Maita Lai. If Kasira is with us, by the end of summer we shall see the Constable of Dür dancing from a Royal Gibbet! And our uncle next to him, if there’s any justice.

I remain, affectionately, your brother,

Alakor

 

P.S. – I am still going by my mercenary name of Colith One-eye, as I see no point in giving Bernan any kind of warning that I’m coming. So be sure to seek me under that name when you arrive in Vinkara. And take care as you pass by Dür; there is some chance of meeting those on the road who might recognize you, despite your own alias and more adult mein.

–A

 

There was silence around the room after Drake finished reading, as the companions contemplated what Alakor was asking.

“I’m afraid there’s no way we can make his timetable,” Mariala finally spoke. “The trip to Sha Hesima delayed us too much… if only we’d sailed a day later!”

Drake dropped the letter on the table and shook his head.

“No, it’s possible, damn it! If the Fortune’s Favor could sail on the early tide tomorrow, it’s three days to Shalara, and another five overland to Vinkara, if we ride hard. We could just make it!”

“But the ship can’t be ready, Drake,” replied Vulk gently. “I’m sorry, but they’re still unloading our cargo, and it will take at least another day to finish that and then resupply her for a voyage of any length. Even then, she’s not well equipped to carry not only us but also our horses and gear…”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll risk Immelen breaking a leg, or being swept overboard, or whatever other stupid thing that can happen to a horse at sea,” grated Devrik, slamming down his mug of cider. Raven patted his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He grunted and then nodded.

“But there may be another way,” he went on. “I’ve been studying with Master Vetaris a bit, and it was with his help that I learned how to use the Nitaran Vortex on Chalkman’s Hill to get to Port Kethim.

“I’m still far from casually opening portals, but perhaps with Master Vetaris’ help, we could use the Vortex to travel to Vinkara, or near it…”

“Actually,” Vulk chimed in, “I was studying Vortex control myself, at the Temple, before our little sea holiday, and I was granted permission to learn the proper rituals the day that we sailed. I haven’t had time to do so yet, but with luck and the proper prayers I could have the goddess’s grace in time to take us to Nolkior before the deadline.”

This set off a babble of excited planning and list-making… Mariala and Devrik agreed to seek out Master Vetaris first thing in the morning and request his help, while Vulk got up to leave for the Temple, to begin his preparations for the meditations, prayers and study that would be required for him to learn the Ritual of the Portals.

But all their plans were cut short by a knock at the door. Mariala opened it to find a young man in the livery of the Earl of Devok smiling at her.

“Good evening milady,” he said, stepping briskly past her into the room and surveying those within. “Ah, good, you’re all here. I bring greetings from my noble master Lord Toralt Hanorn, the Earl of Devok, to Vulk Elida, Cantor of Kasira, and to his friends, Scholar Mariala Teryne of Nolkior, Master Drake Bartoff of Nolkior, and Master Devrik Askalan of the Kildoran Republic…” he paused for just a second before concluding with, “and the rest.”

“His Grace requests and requires the presence of Cantor Elida in the Great Hall of Kar Devok at the third turn of the Serpent Watch on Garta 24 Agras in the 3018th year since the Demon’s Fist, along with such of his companions as may wish to join him, to receive from His Grace a gift that His Grace is most desirous to bestow.”

Vulk was speechless at this, but Drake was not.

“That’s tomorrow morning,” he said. “We don’t have time for –”

Mariala clamped a hand over his mouth, while Vulk gathered his wits and bowed his head to the page in acknowledgement of his master.

“Please convey my gratitude to His Grace for his kind invitation,” he said, “and assure him that we will be there at the appointed hour. May we bring these other friends of ours, or…”

“Certainly,” the page replied sunnily. “You may bring as many people as you wish. Just be sure everyone’s dressed properly for such a solemn occasion.”

“But what exactly–”

“I’m sorry, I was instructed to say no more. You’ll just have to wait.”

With that the page turned and slipped as quickly out the door as he had come in, leaving the room bemused and curious.

“Well, I think we need to continue our plans for departing,” Drake said, freeing himself from Mariala’s grip. “Whatever the Earl wants to dump on you, Vulk, can’t take too much time… and maybe the rest of us can slip away afterwards, if–”

“Yes,” Vulk said absently, his mind obviously deeply engaged in trying to unravel what sort of gift the Earl might want to give him so publicly. “Yes, I think we should continue to prepare… but this is going to delay my ritual studies…”

While the group began to break up, heading to their own rooms and bed, Raven pulled her brother aside and spoke to him in a low voice, while he nodded and smiled. While Devrik and his sister stepped across the hall to their own rooms, Black Hawk headed down the stairs, apparently to his own room. But instead he continued down to the common room, then slipped quietly out the door and into the night…

 

Treachery Beneath the Waves, Part II

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Erol’s Story

Erol had been disappointed but not terribly surprised when the captains of both Arushali trading ships had refused him a berth… merchants weren’t terribly generous at the best of times, and with the Tritani failing to show for the annual Spring Sea Fair they looked to be losing a great deal of money. And it wasn’t like he was an Able Bodied Seaman, of course – he’d picked up plenty of practical skills in his months with the pirates, but that meant little to an honest captain.

The atmosphere in the small town had turned worried when the Merfolk didn’t appear, and after the ships departed it turned positively dark and sullen – overnight it seemed. Indeed, it was the same day that he’d noticed the sudden lack of children playing in the streets that he began to get dark stares and angry looks from townspeople who had previously been friendly enough, if not gregarious.

Paying for another night at the Mermaid’s Arms, the only inn in the village, the proprietor had been distinctly frosty again yesterday– Erol got the impression, as he had for the last several days, that the man would have liked to turn him out, but couldn’t for some reason. Of course tonight was likely to be another story, since those had been his last coppers. This place was too small to turn to thievery, at least successfully…

It was with great relief that Erol saw the purple and gold sail of a new ship round Stingray Point and turn into the harbor in the early afternoon. One way or another, he needed to be on that ship when it sailed! But even as he began turning over the arguments he might use to talk his way to a berth, he noticed that the few townspeople who were on the streets seemed more worried and anxious than excited by the new arrival…

As he watched the ship (Fortune’s Favor it said on the bow in flowing gold letters) made fast by the oddly reluctant longshoremen, Erol also noted the creepy fellow he’d been seeing around town for the last half tenday. He was lounging against the corner of a warehouse and watching the disembarkation of the ship’s captain and… passengers?… with intense, if veiled, interest.

The man, whose name Erol had never heard spoken, seemed to be everywhere recently, always grinning a disturbingly wide and toothy grin. He wore dark blue and yellow clothes in the style of the southern kingdom of Tolus, including a (ridiculous, to Erol’s eye) floppy hat with two great plumes. He seldom seemed to speak, and if the townsfolk gave Erol suspicious looks and hard glares, they gave the grinning stranger worse – when they would look at him at all. Most people avoided his mocking gaze altogether. Every fighting instinct he possessed screamed that this man was dangerous…

Now the fellow peered slit eyed and unsmiling from beneath his shadowing hat at the group who stood talking to Port Master Edigar, a portly man of middle years who seemed nervous and ill at ease. The captain of the ship was obviously the older, one-armed man in black, but the leader of the group seemed to be the tall, handsome young cantor (of Kasira if the garish magenta and purple clothes he wore meant anything). The short, wiry fellow next to the cantor seemed to be a fighting man of some sort, but it was the redheaded woman in green who first seemed to notice the gaze of the lounging stranger. When she turned to speak to her shorter companion about it, the beplumed man pushed himself off the wall and, giving her his creepy wide grin, sauntered off down the street into town.

The Port Master soon led the group to his office/home, a four story stone building directly back of the Trading Pool. Erol wandered for a few minutes between the marble pillars that supported the Pool’s great coral dome, but soon realized it wouldn’t do to ambush these people the second they reappeared. If they intended to spend the night in Kethim, or even take a meal, they would have to go to the Mermaid’s Arms. He would “run into them” there…

♦

There were few people in the common room of the inn that evening when the group, minus the captain, came in and called for a hot meal. Of course the grinning stranger in his floppy hat was one of the few, settled in a dark corner near the door where he could see the entire room. Erol was also there, near the door to the kitchen, also a good place from which to survey the room.

From what he’d been able to piece together during the day, these three were friends and co-owners of the ship tied up at the quay, the one-armed captain their employee. Which meant they were the ones to get in good with… he considered what he’d learned, and decided in this case the truth, or at least most of it, might serve him best…

When he overheard the cantor, whose name was apparently Vulk, ask the innkeeper about his children, Erol saw his opportunity. As the nervous ‘keep hurriedly excused himself to pressing business in the kitchen, Erol stood and approached the group’s table.

“Ah, you’ve noticed the lack of children in town,” he said, raising his mug of cider in greeting. “And that no one wants to talk about it!”

The obvious tension in the town had made the group wary, but their desire for information quickly outweighed their caution. They invited him to join them, and after brief introductions they began questioning him about all he knew of recent events in Port Kethim.

“I’ve been her for a couple of tendays, after, um, leaving my previous ship rather… abruptly.” Actually, he’d jumped overboard that last night when it was obvious the captain had learned of his attempt to foment mutiny amongst the crew. Better to risk the swim to the unknown shore than certain death at dawn! It had taken him three wet, miserable days of slogging through the southern marshes of Oessa to reach Port Kethim, but he felt he’d chosen wisely.

“This place seemed pretty nice, when I arrived. The people were friendly and there was a lot of excitement over the upcoming Sea Fair. Even after the Merfolk failed to arrive the people only seemed concerned, nothing more.

“It was after the trading ships from Arushal left (pissed off and empty, I can tell you), that things got strange. On the day the ships set sail, there were the usual number of children playing along the Great Quay and in the streets. The next day there were none to be seen… I didn’t notice right off, but I did notice a lot of tense, angry townsfolk.

“Being a stranger, I wasn’t invited to the town meeting the Port Master called that day, but it was after that meeting that I began to get angy glares and hostile words from everyone in town, even the people I’d come to know a bit. But the hostility was only in looks and a few words; no one actually physical, though it felt like they anted to… they all seem afraid, if not of me, then certainly of him.” He nodded in the direction of the grinning stranger.

Erol then explained what he knew of the man, and his new companions debated what they should do. Gradually a plan evolved to confront the man – they seemed to think they could get the truth out him, which seemed unlikely to Erol, but it wasn’t his call. Unfortunately, it almost seemed as if the stranger knew what they were planning, because just as Vulk and Drake prepared to stand, he gave Erol (the only one looking directly at him) his toothy grin and slipped quickly out the door.

Drake followed quickly behind, but the man was gone by the time he stepped into the dark street. The friends seemed greatly annoyed at this lost opportunity, but at least they didn’t blame Erol – they agreed to provide him a berth when they sailed. The warned it might be a day or two, but he didn’t care, as long as they took him with them!

They escorted him back to their ship, where Vulk had a short private conversation with the captain, who seemed more bemused than upset at having a new crewman thrust upon him. After introducing them, the companions declared they were going to see the Port Master again, and set off down the quay. Before they left, as he was stashing his meager possessions, Erol overheard Mariala asking Captain Levtor to have the crew keep their eyes and ears open during their shore leave in town.

There was certainly something very odd going on in this town, Erol thought, and he was glad to be getting out of it. But his new benefactors seemed curiously intent on discovering what the story was, and his own curiosity had always been over-strong… he should just accept his luck, leave his new acquaintances to their own business, and mind his own… yes, that’s what he’d do this time…

As he slipped off the ship Erol noticed a darker shadow moving between the warehouses that lined the Great Quay – a shadow that revealed itself in the flickering light of the Great Beacon atop the coral dome of the Trading Pool to be the grinning stranger, floppy hat and all. As he moved across the open space towards the Port Master’s home, Erol slipped into shadow himself, and followed at a discreet distance.

It was obvious the Grinning Stranger (Erol had begun to think of him in capital letters by this time) was trying to overhear what was going on in the Port Master’s house, and equally obviously was failing to do so. He paced in frustration around the building, peering into windows, as Erol watched from a distance. In his impatience the man almost missed it when the Port Master and his guests slipped out the back and furtively made their way towards the north edge of town.

The Grinning Stranger followed the group, and Erol followed the Grinning Stranger. Both moons were still new, and it was hard to keep their quarry in sight until a dim glow flared from Vulk’s hand, to light their way along the rocky shoreline cliffs. About half a mile beyond the northern arm of the Great Quay, where the rising land began to level out, the group suddenly vanished from sight.

Erol soon realized they had descended into a cut in the cliffs, following a path down into some secluded sea grotto. The Grinning Stranger perched on the rocks above the grotto, peering down, but Erol couldn’t get close enough to see or hear what was going on, not without risking detection.

After several turns of the glass, just as Erol was beginning to nod off, despite the cool sea air, the Grinning Stranger suddenly darted from his hiding place, disappearing amongst the rocks. Erol soon saw why, as Vulk, Drake, Mariala and the Port Master rose again from the rocky crevice and headed back towards town, their way again lit by the cantor’s spirit light.

Erol ducked down as they passed, and once his own quarry had also passed in pursuit, he stealthily brought up the rear of this strange parade. They slowly made their way back to town, but not back to the Port Master’s house. Instead they slipped between the pillars surrounding the Trading Pool, to stand staring down into its depths.

The Grinning Stranger slipped around the Port Master’s house, and Erol was torn – should he follow him, or stay to see what transpired at the Pool? His dilemma was soon resolved, however, when he saw the distinctive dark form appear again in the shadows on the far side of the Pool.

And so both watched as the Port Master opened secret panels in two of the pillars and pulled out mysterious piles of some type of clothing. It was a dark blue-green, and seemed made of fine scales, and when the three companions began to don it, it was skin-tight. Erol, like the other men, looked away as Mariala shed her gown and slipped into the new outfit, but he noticed the Grinning Stranger leaned forward a bit and ogled her.

Once they were fully clad in the scaly costumes each of the three friends took a clay jar from the satchels they carried and opened them. They then proceeded to nick their thumbs with knives and let several drops of blood drip into each jar. A few minutes later they tossed back the jars and swallowed the contents in a gulp. From the looks on their faces it didn’t taste too good…

At that moment the Grinning Stranger stepped out from the shadows.

“So, you little busybodies just couldn’t mind your own business” he said, his voice harsh and grating, like two wet stones grinding together. “And now it seems you propose to go for swim… well, let me help you on your way!”

As he spoke his body had begun to change… the hat fell from his head, his clothes slid off or tore apart, as he grew… his head shifted grotesquely, becoming wide and bullet-shaped, as his mouth grew wider and wider, revealing rows of jagged, sharp teeth… his back bulged and stretched, flowing away behind him, becoming a fluked tail… his skin turned gray and rough… in a matter of seconds he had become a hideous mixture of man and shark!

Like those within the circle of the pillars Erol stood frozen in shock as this transformation occurred. Before he could think or even move, events exploded. The creature launched itself at Mariala, its mouth closing on her left shoulder, the force of the leap carrying them both backwards and into the dark waters of the Pool.

As Drake and Vulk both cried out in shock, the Port Master yelled a word and slapped the base of the pillar he stood near. Sudden light flared within the Pool, not terribly bright, but enough to dimly reveal Mariala kicking frantically away as her attacker finished his transformation into a very large shark. Erol noted two other dark shapes suddenly appear, moving up from the still-dark depths.

Drake dove into the water, but he immediately resurfaced, sputtering and thrashing, as if drowning. One of the dark shapes moved towards him, even as Vulk leaped into the water on top of his friend, bearing them both down. It almost seemed to Erol that he was trying to drown the smaller man!

After that, things got confusing… the water roiled and churned, refracting and breaking up the dark shapes moving within the pool. Suddenly a great wave of water leapt up, bearing the shark and two strange creatures onto the stones – Erol was drenched by the wave even as he stumbled behind a pillar.

The shark quickly thrashed and flipped itself back into the water, and the other two (who appeared to possess the tails and heads of sharks, but the torsos and arms of men) were not far behind, wielding flukes and tridents to dive again into the fray. For a moment it seemed to Erol that the water took the form of a shining, translucent woman, then all was swirling chaos once more.

The water turned dark with blood as a third figure hurtled up from the depths, a silvery flash in the underwater lights glinting off skin and trident. But this figure attacked the shark-men… a few moments of churning chaos, and suddenly the shark flew up on a great spout of water, slamming down with tremendous force on the stone paving, clearly quite dead. It was followed a few seconds later by the two shark-men, equally dead.

After a moment of silence, as the waters slowly calmed to relative stillness, a silver-haired head broke the surface, calling to the Port Master, who stood stunned amidst the dead bodies.

“We go now to Sha Hesima my friend! Tell Captain Levtor what has transpired, and that his friends will return as soon as they can… I hope…”

With that he turned and dove deep, a long tail of silvery scales flashing out of the water behind him. Erol realized he must be one of the fabled Tritani, the Merfolk. But if that was a true merman, then what were those shark-men? He’d thought for a few minutes that they were mermen…

Port Master Edigar jumped nearly out of his skin when Erol stepped out from behind a pillar to survey the carnage, and his hand flew to his dagger.

“Peace,” called Erol, holding out his empty hands. “I’m a friend.”

It took him a few minutes to convince the Port Master that he was now a member of the Fortune’s Favor’s crew, and not a minion of the Arcutha (as he learned the shark men were called), but once he did the man seemed greatly relieved to have company. And help.

“Come,” he said. “If you are truly a friend then help me get these bodies hidden and this blood removed – if the Arcutha have other spies amongst us, they must not learn what went forward tonight!”

As he spoke he turned towards the body of the great shark, only to gasp as he saw that it was gone – replaced by the bleeding, torn body of the no-longer Grinning Stranger. He exchanged a look and a disbelieving shake of the head with Erol before they both reluctantly bent to grab the body.

They both nearly jumped out of their skins when a deep, harsh voice boomed out behind them.

“What in the Eternal Void is going on here!?”

Devrik’s Story

For hours after the Fortune’s Favor sailed Raven stormed about their room, furious that Devrik had stayed behind because of her. “I am a warrior of the Rethmani! I do not need your constant guardianship! You dishonor us both by abandoning our friends in their hour of need!”

“It’s always their hour of need,” Devrik pointed out, then ducked as she hurled a boot at his head. He then carefully didn’t point out that he’d rescued her twice already from certain death, but she seemed to sense the thought anyway.

“Oh, you lop off a cow’s head and think you’re a hero! And I wouldn’t have been in danger with that crazy Korönian if not for you to begin with!”

Sensing the time for a strategic retreat, Devrik mumbled something about checking on his horse, and made a quick exit. He collected Brann from the inn’s kitchen, where the fast-growing puppy had been gnawing on an old soup bone the scullery girl had given him, and they headed down towards the docks.

Along the way he saw three finches on a rooftop and a black gull suddenly stooping on them, only to be driven off by two falcons… the finches darted to safety. On the docks he noted three kittens frolicking amongst the fishheads, as a mongrel dog slowly crept up on them. But even as the dog pounced on his prey two scarred tomcats leapt from the shadows, and in a whirling chaos of yowls, fur, and blood drove it off.

He restrained Brann from trying to play with the kittens himself, as he doubted the older cats would appreciate the difference in intent, and turned away from the dock. As he headed thru an ally towards the inn, he saw three rats cornered by a terrier…

“Yes, yes,” he grumbled in annoyance, hurrying past. “I get the message already!”

Back in his room Raven was calmer, but no less adamant that he must help their friends. She handed him the case that held his Tarot deck.

“if you don’t believe me, at least see what the cards say.”

“I’ve had enough with the portents today,” Devrik growled, but a reading was, in fact, why he had come back so quickly.

While Raven curled up on the bed, he sat down at the small table near the fireplace and began to lay out the cards… five minutes later he was out the door again, with just time to grab his weapons, heft his pack, and plant a lingering kiss on Raven’s lips.

Half an hour later he was pounding on Magister Vetaris’ door. When the mage finally appeared Devrik dropped his pack with a thump, frowning.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake,” he said. “And i need your help…”

♦

The sun had set several hours later, as Devrik fianlly looked up from the scroll he’d been reading. His head hurt, but he thought he had finally grasped the concept of folded space-time. He turned to explain it to Vetaris, who sat reading a book by the fire.

“Yes, I think you have the essence of it now my boy,” the older man said, smiling. “But let us put it to the test.”

He got up and Devrik followed him out of the house and into town, his pack on his back once again. Passing through the town they climbed the seaward hill east of the Great Temple, called Chalkman’s Hill. There, overlooking the bay, was a circle of ten stones, each of them three meters long, one meter wide , and half a meter deep, and almost hidden in the grass.

“This is not a secret circle of course.” Vetaris spoke for the first time since leaving his house. “But only a few in town know it’s here. It is an open Nitaran Vortex, and if you have properly memorized the location I gave you, as well as mastered the mental shape of control, you should be able to open a gate into the basement of the Port Master’s house in Port Kethim.”

“Can’t you just open the vortex for me?” Devrik asked, not for the first time. “We don’t have time for this, especially if I fail and end up on the Greater Moon!”

“I could, but where would the lesson be in that for you?” Vetaris smiled in reply. “No , I’m quite certain you’ll do just fine, Devrik.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t try this with any other portal… you still have a lot to learn before you’re ready for free-form Gate control!”

At his gesture Devrik reluctantly stepped into the stone circle… yes, he could sense the power here now. How had he missed it before, back in the caves with Hanol? It seemed so obvious now… but could he control it?

He framed the structure in his mind, saw it all from start to finish – where he was, where he wanted to be, and how to get there. Then he opened his mind and let the Principle pour in…

There was a blinding flash of non-color that he was pretty sure was only in his own mind, a moment of vertigo, and suddenly everything was pitch black. He wasn’t on the hilltop in Devok, overlooking the bay, certainly… but was he where he was supposed to be?

After several minutes of stumbling about in the dark, bumping painfully into heavy objects, some with sharp corners, he finally steadied his nerves and summoned the will to call up a small flame. By its flickering light he saw that he appeared to be in a cellar, one crammed with barrels and old furniture. And over there were the stairs…

He carefully made his way through what was obviously someone’s home, but there seemed to be no one around to stop him or question his presence. Stepping out what he took to be the front door he saw a circle of white pillars surrounding a pool of dark water. Yes, this was exactly as Magister Vetaris had described! He’d made it!

With a fierce grin he drew his sword and headed towards the two figures he could see standing within the circle of pillars, dimly lit by a greenish glow from the water. What he saw when he stepped into the circle made his draw drop momentarily… what had been the body of a rather large shark suddenly shifted and seemed to flow, and in its place lay the bloody body of a naked man!

As the two living men bent to lift the body Devrik suddnely boomed out “What in the Eternal Void is going on here!?”

Joining Forces

The two men jumped like they’d been struck by lightning, and dropped the body. The smaller of the two, and the youger, reached down and grabbed up a trident that lay on the stones near his feet. The older, portly man reached for his dagger.

“If you are in league with these monsters,” the older man cried, “you’ll not get the chance to your master!”

“Hold, hold!” replied Devrik. “I know nothing of these creatures, though it’s obvious something uncanny is going on. I suspect my friends are thick in this business – I come seeking them.”

“And who might these friends be?” asked the younger man, keeping the trident level and steady. It was obvious to Devrik that he was a trained fighter, and no stranger to the weapon he held.

“I seek Vulk Elida, Mariala Teryne, and Drake Bartoff,” he answered. “I am Devrik Askalan.”

The older man seemed unsure, but the younger one lowered his weapon fractionally. “It’s possible.” he said to the older man. “This afternoon, in the inn, they did mention a companion who was not with them, a man named Devrik. Of course, anyone in the common room might have overheard that…”

“It’s easily resolved,” the older man said. “If he is who he says, then Captain Levtor will be able to identify him.”

“Of course Levtor knows me! Yes, let us seek him out and resolve this matter… I fear my friends may have need of me, and I mistrust this delay!”

Captain Levtor was surprised to see Devrik, but confirmed to the Port Master that he was, indeed, who and what he claimed. He also told Devrik that the others had asked him to make a berth on the ship for the younger man, whose name was Erol.

Once identities had been established the four men retired to the captain’s cabin to discuss the night’s events. The others knew only pieces of the story, but Devrik was able to piece enough of it together to realize that he must follow his friends under the waves.

“Captain, do your charts show the location of Sha Hesima? Could we find it from the surface?”

“Only in a genreral way, I’m afraid,” the captain replied. “The merfolk are wary of letting us surface dwellers know precisely where their cities lie.”

“If only I had the water breathing potions I’d been given, this would be easier,” Devrik brooded. “But I gave mine to Mariala…”

Erol brightened at this, as he pulled around a satchel he’d been carrying. “Mariala had set this down while she changed, and she never had time to pick it up. Maybe…”

Devrik snatched the bag from him and started to rummage around. With a pleased grunt he pulled forth two white jars, sealed in blue-green wax and marked with a trident sigil.

“Billiant! Get me near the city Captain Levtor and I’ll find the others now, dropping in from above!”

“We’ll find them,” corrected Erol. “There’s no chance on or under the waves that I’m going to miss this! Besides, I owe your friends for their kindness to me…”

Devrik eyed him briefly, then nodded.

“Captain, gather the crew! How long until we can sail?”

Aftermath of Raven’s Rescue

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The friends made their way, limping and shaken, from the cave complex, supporting the still-dazed Raven. Devrik was silently furious that Kirdik Hanol had escaped him… he understood the nature of Nitaran Vortices, of course, but it just seemed so damn… unfair!

Cris, Marik and the horses were where they had left them, and the party wasted no time in saddling up. It was late afternoon, and would be dark before they could make Elidar Manor, but no one was inclined to camp in the wilderness with a psychotic Korönian cantor on the loose, and possibly more Gülvini running wild.

Raven insisted she was strong enough to ride upright behind Devrik, rather than across his lap, as he’d been prepared to do. “We’ll make better time, love,” she pointed out. “And after the last several days, I really want a nice pile of furs and a day of sleep – soon!”

The ride was uneventful, thankfully, though everyone kept a wary eye out for the Gülvini who had fled after their failed ambush at the cave mouth. It was two hours after sunset when the exhausted companions arrived at the gates of Vulk’s ancestral estate and called for entrance. His aunt and uncle, as always, were warm and welcoming hosts, and the extended family listened with amazement as the group related the events of the last several days over a very welcome hot meal.

Raven got a down bed, rather than a pile of furs, but did indeed sleep most of the next day away, Devrik seldom far from her side. When she finally woke, ravenous once again, Devrik fed her and finally had the full story of her imprisonment from her.

“Those foul beastmen took care not to harm me, despite the injuries I managed to cause them before they could bind me,” she said between bites of stew and warm bread. “It was obvious they wanted to hurt me, but their fear of… something… was greater than their lust.

“I guess it must have been that mad cantor, of course… he also took care not to cause me any physical injury, though he seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting my mind. He kept telling me how he would bend you to “our” will or see you die a horrible death – which he described in great detail.” She shuddered at this memory, but waved off his comforting hand.

“He also told me how I’d be kept alive only until my son was born, and how “they” would raise him to be a mighty warrior of flame and death for the Chained God.

“He kept referring to others, as though he was just acting on orders, but other times it seemed as if it was all personal, between the two of you… he told me how you continually rejected his offers of training and your “calling,” and how this time, he wouldn’t have to take no for an answer – if he couldn’t have you, he’d have your son.

“He seemed very sure that our son would have your way with fire…”

Devrik grimaced at this, and shook his head. “I pray to the Immortals that he doesn’t… it’s brought me little enough joy in this life, and a great deal of pain.

“But true or not, Kirdik Hanol will never lay a hand on him, nor his mysterious masters. I swear I will keep both him and you safe, no matter what it takes!”

Raven smiled and pulled him close for a long, deep kiss…

After a second night at Elidar Manor the group set off early the next morning, arriving back in Devok Town a few hours later. They settled in once again at the Sign of the Cloven Shield, and Mariala and Devrik took Raven, over her half-hearted objections, to see Korus Jerathin, the best physician in the town.

He gave her a clean bill of health, recommending a few more days of rest before resuming “your usual daily routine.” Mariala also asked Master Vetaris to come by the inn, ostensibly to meet Raven, but actually to check for any arcane residue of her recent imprisonment. He too gave the Rethmani woman a clean bill of health, much to Mariala’s relief.

The second day after their return to town the companions received an invitation from Helain Alvar, the Mercantyler’s Guildmistress for Devok, to join her for lunch at the Guild Hall. Assuming this was reciprocation for the Double Full Moons party Mariala had held two months ago, they gladly accepted.

But in fact the Guildmistress had business on her mind.

“Twice each year we send two ships to Oessa Island,” she explained once the pleasantries had been observed and the food was served. “That is the surface portion of the Tritani Princedom of Hesima, that lays but 12 leagues south of us.

“The Tritani are an insular people, but we have long enjoyed trading privileges with them, on this strict timetable – once in the spring and once in the fall our ships dock in Port Kethim, and the merfolk arrive to trade the fruits of the sea for the artifice of the land.

“This has gone on for over fifty years, without fail… until this spring. Our ships have returned without the usual cargoes, and with no explanation from Sha Hesima. The communication stone used by our Port Master to speak with the sea folk remains dark.

“You four have gained quite a reputation for dramatic problem solving recently, and I am prepared to commission you and your ship to sail to Port Kethim and seek out the trouble that threatens to cost my Guild so much money. If you discover the why of it all, you will receive a just payment,” and she named a pleasant sum.

“But if you manage to resolve the problem, whatever it may be, and start trade flowing again, then your compensation will be far more… significant. Say, trading rights as one of the two ships that sail to Oessa for the Spring Sea Fair?”

After further discussion of details and logistics, the friends agreed to think on the matter, speak to their captain, and give Mistress Alvar an answer by morning. Returning to the inn they were surprised to see Ser Owain, sitting at a table by himself in the common room. He rose to greet them.

“I trust your meeting with the Guildmistress went well,” he said, smiling. “Indeed, I hope you plan to take up her generous offer.”

At their surprised looks he just nodded, and motioned towards the hallway that lead to the stairs. “I think it’s time I took you all more fully into my confidence… you’ve proven yourselves both competent and discreet. And now I have need of both those qualities, more than ever.

“But this is not a story for the common room of an inn. May we retire to your rooms upstairs? I think you’ll find what I have to say most illuminating.”

As they took the stairs to the third floor, Mariala, knowing the state of Vulk and Drake’s room, and that Raven was no doubt at rest in Devrik’s, suggested her room for their meeting. She was startled, therefore, when she unlocked the door to find Magister Vetaris seated in one of her armchairs next to the fireplace.

“I apologise for thsi ill-mannered intrusion, my dear,” he said as she stared at him in surprise, “and hope you’ll forgive me. But it is best Ser Owain and I not be seen together in public, for reasons which we will soon make clear to you all.”

Ser Owain took the other armchair, while the companions settled themselves in various spots around the room. Once the door was again shut, he began without preamble.

“I’m sure that you have all heard rumours and stories of the fabled Star Council,” he said. “ The group of powerful men and women who are said to secretly pull the strings behind the scenes of the world?”

They nodded, and Drake laughed, saying “A common enough story on the tongues of men who like to blame the world for their own shortcomings – it’s not my fault my busines failed, the Star Council wished it so!”

“Indeed,” agreed Ser Owain with a dry smile. “And amongst the better educated it is smiled upon as a myth, a fable – at most an allegory to explain the vagracies of Fate.

“And yet the very best informed people know that it is no fable. There is a Star Council, and while it does not “run” the world by any stretch, it is concerned that order… or perhaps stability is the better word… be maintained in the West.

“To that end, the Council maintains associates in various positions of influence, both amongst the powerful and the not-so-powerful, from the courts of kings to the Beggar’s Guild. In turn these associates maintain agents to gather the most detailed intelligence possible, and occasionally to act in support of the goals of the Council.

“Most agents of the Star Council are unaware of the Council’s existence, of course, or their own conncection to it – this is the position you have occupied since I first met most of you several months ago and allowed you to leave Eldora Abbey with your heads full of secret knowledge.”

Vulk, Drake and Mariala suddenly looked illuminated, putting the pieces together concerning the secret negotiations Ser Owain had been carrying out with a restive Darikazi faction… apparently at the behest of this fabled Star Council.

“But some agents work better with a fuller knoweldge of what they do and why,” continued the bobleman, “and the Council has given me permission to bring you up to this level of knowledge, and offer you the choice of acting now as agents with full knowledge of for whom we work.”

“Are you a member of the Council,” asked Vulk. “You and the Magister?”

“No, we are not ourselves members of the Council – both Magister Vetaris and I are associate members. We report directly to the Council, and receive instructions and requests from them, which we then attempt to carry out via our separate networks of agents.

“It is a bit unusual to have an overlap in agents, as we have with you, but in a way that’s been lucky… the Council was swayed by the testimony of us both as to your competence and trustworthiness, which is why we are having this conversation now, unusually early in your “careers.”

“But not altogether unheard of,” interjected Magister Vetaris.

Ser Owain nodded in agreement, then turned his piercing gaze on each of the four friends in turn, and after a moment each nodded their acceptance of their new position as official agents of the Star Council.

“I assume we remain free to decline any… assignments, if we have any doubts or conflicts,” Vulk asked, before giving his assent, last of all.

“You remain free agents,” Vetaris agreed. “It is mainly intelligence gayhering we usually seek; and if you ever have qualms about anything we ask of you, please feel free to talk to either of us.”

The two older men then rose, and Ser Owain held out his hand toward Vulk and Drake. When they extended their own hands, he dropped a ring into each. Magister Vetaris did the same with Mariala and Devrik. Each ring was unique, but contained within was a hidden sigil of the Star Council.

“Use these to establsih your identity with other agents of the Council, should you need to,” Ser Owain said, demonstrating the cunning release that revealed the sigil in his own ring.

“The Council are even more concerned than Guildmistress Alvar over the failure of the Tritani to appear for the annual spring trading fair. They have expressed that concern to both Vetaris and myself, quite forcefully… but not very specifically.”

Ser Owain sounded slightly annoyed at not being fully informed by the Council, although Vetaris just looked rather bland.

“We wish you to undertake the mission offered by the Guild, but we also want you to find a particular person in Sha Hesima, and identify yourselves to him as agents of the Council, and express their… concern. You are then at his disposal – if he indicates that all is well, continue on as you see fit to resolve the Guild’s problem.

“But if he indicates that all is not well, then help him in any way possible… I’m sorry we can’t be more specific, but presumably you’ll be told more should the need arise in Sha Hesima.”

“I’ve not seen the Council so… agitated” says Magister Vetaris. “ Not since then-Crown Prince Gil-Garon and Lord Kavyn exposed and dismantled the plot to free the Chained God almost twenty years ago…”

“The person you are to find is the High Priest of Kanius, Azador Silverfin,” continued Ser Owain. “He is of middle years, with a silvery white tail and silver hair. He will also wear a disticnctive manta shaped medallion around his neck, and a tourqouise bracelet on his right wrist.”

Magister Vetaris then reached into a satchel next to his chair hands, pulling out a collection of white wide-bottomed clay jars, each sealed with blue-green wax and stamped with a trident sigil. He handed two jars to each of the companions.

“These are Yorinth’s Elixer – it will allow you to breathe underwater. But it is a tricky potion, my young friends, and also the last that we have available locally… take care with it!”

“How do we use this elixer,” asked Drake. “I’m not familiar with it…”

“Should your investigation take you beneath the waves,” Vetarir replied, “as I expect it will, give yourselves several minutes to prepare. You must mix several drops of your own blood into the elixer – as quickly as possible. Once the seal is broken the syrup loses potency quickly – within an hour it would be usless.

“When you add your blood the potion will quickly begin to fizz and expand as it reaches full potency – within three or four minutes usually. When the fizzing begins to subside, down the concoction – quickly is my advice, as it’s taste is rather unpleasant.

“Within approximately five minutes you’ll begin to find it difficult to breathe, and you should immediately enter the water. This transition is where it gets tricky… your bodies will instinctively resist trying to breathe in water, but you must be strong, and force yourselves to the effort! If you don’t, you will suffocate in the air…

“ The effects of a single dose will last for 10-14 hours if you stay above 150 feet or so – as long as you can still distinguish some colors in natural light, you’re at a safe depth. Below that depth, you’ll lose about an hour of effectiveness per 50 feet, and in no case go below 300 feet! As Sha Hesima is at a depth of 80 to 120 feet, this shouldn’t be an issue, but be aware!

“When you begin to feel a tightness in your chest and have trouble breathing, the elixer is fading – you’ll have about a turn of the glass, not more than two, to reach air. If you need the second dose you must either surface or find an air pocket within Sha Hesima – opening the jar underwater makes it impossible to activate properly!

“And that reminds me… when ascending, you must do so slowly… no faster than about 10 feet per minute. Faster than that and you risk painful cramps and possible death!”

After a few more minutes of discussion and instruction Ser Owain and Magister Vetaris rose to take their leave. After they had gone, the companions fell into a contemplative silence as they pondered all that they had just learned. At last Vulk stirred and stood up.

“I suppose I should go and see what Captain Levtor has to say about a change in his sailing plans… I don’t imagine he’ll be thrilled.”

Drake left to make various arrangements of his own, and Devrik returned to his own room and Raven, leaving Mariala alone to stare pensively at her ring and contemplate the uses of a water elemental under the sea…

 

Treachery Beneath the Waves, Part I

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Sailing

It took a day for the Fortune’s Favor to be made ready, and for the cargo already loaded to be moved back into the bonding house. As predicted, Captain Levtor was not happy at the overturning of his carefully planned trading schedule, but his opinion of the venture changed when he learned of the possibility of gaining a foothold in the trade with the Sea Folk.

“A lucrative trade,” he smiled when Vulk wold him what the Guildmistress had offered. “One I had dreamed of getting into in my younger days, and well worth a brief delay… yes, possibly well worth it!”

With preparations made and the ship ready to sail on the morning tide, Devrik suddenly announced to his friends that he would not be going.

“I’m sorry,” he said as they sat to breakfast, “but I cannot leave Raven and our unborn son alone and unguarded, not with that madman still loose.”

“But Devrik,” said Mariala in dismay, “we need you! And Black Hawk is here – he can surely keep his sister safe.”

“Not notably so far,” Devrik snorted. “And in any case, he is not yet fully healed from his injuries… nor does he really understand the dangers of a town, even a small one like Devok. No, I am decided – my place is with my woman, at least for now.”

“Are you turning down the… Their… offer then?” Vulk asked quietly.

“No, not at all… but they did make clear our participation was voluntary, did they not? Once my son is born and Kirdik Hanol is safely in his grave, then I will be happy to undertake any tasks the… They… might have for me.”

No amount of argument could sway him, and there was little time for it in any case. The three remaining companions grabbed their packs and headed for the docks and their waiting ship, as Devrik watched them go from the window in his room. He turned as Raven came up behind him.

“Devrik…”

♦

The day was a fine one for sailing, and in just a few hours Oessa Island appeared before their prow. A lush, green island, it’s interior rose from often rocky shores to a ridge of broken peaks from which numerous waterfalls could be seen plunging into the foothills. They rounded the northernmost point of the island and sailed down its eastern coast toward the sheltered harbor of Port Kethim. They rounded the headland of Stingray Point in the early afternoon and sailed into Keth Bay.

This was a broad sweep of blue water enclosed by rugged arms of granite, at the head of with lay the small town of Port Kethim. Gray-green peaks rose breathtakingly behind the blue and green tiled roofs clustered near the water. Trees dotted the cliff tops of the bay’s arms, and thick forests lay on either side of the town.

The town itself was rather overwhelmed by its magnifient quay – a crescent of white stone and pink coral whose arms stretched into the bay and emcompassed a span some 150 meters across. At the end of each arm were towers of the same white stone, each 20 meters tall and set with a beacon of brass and crystal. At the center of the great arc of the quay was a circular pier of stone, perhaps 30 meters across, within which lay a pool 12 meters in diameter.

Pillars of white marble, veined with seafoam green, surrounded the Trading Pool, as it was called, and supported a great dome of pale green coral. Atop this dome was a tremendous beacon, again of brass and crystal, that shone out more than 40 meters above the waters. The whole structure was amazingly beautiful.

Beyond the white stone of the Great Quay stood a series of low warehouses, and beyond them rose the rooftops of the town proper, consisting of maybe twenty buildings. Between the town and the begining of the forested hills rising up to the inland peaks could be seen cultivated fields and several fine orchards.

But as they neared the quay, watching eagerly from the rails, the town seemed stangely empty. If not for the smoke from numerous chimneys they might have thougt the place desserted. Eventually a handful of men appeared from within the town and, under the direction of a well-dressed portly man of middle years, grabbed the ropes the crew threw out and made fast the ship to the quay.

Once of the ship the companions and Captain Levtor approached the Port Master (for such the portly gentleman proved to be) and introduced themselves. At first oddly frosty and discouraging, he turned first pale and then nervously polite once they presented their credentials from Guildmistress Alvar and made plain their writ to investigate the Tritani matter.

“The docks are no place for such discussions,” he said, glancing about nervously. “Let me offer you the comfort of my home and office.”

Again with nervous glances all around he sheparded the three friends away from their ship, while Captain Levtor frowned and returned to her.

The Port Master’s home and office were in a tall four-story building of white stone directly behind the pillared dome of the Trading Pool. It had a roof of teal green tiles, and as they approached they could see that a graceful arch of stone connected the roof to the base of the dome – no doubt to give access to the great beacon.

Inside the Port Master’s home they were escorted to his private quarters, where he offered them refreshment and a history of the town and generally seemed to try to avoid the purpose of their visit. Drake noted the toys scattered about the place, and yet neither saw nor heard any other sign of children…

“Enough, Master Edigar!” said Vulk at last. “It’s time we got down to the business that brings us to your no doubt fascinating and historical town. What do you know about the failure of the Tritani to arrive for the Spring Sea Fair?”

Erol Doritar, Legionaire, Gladiator, Adventurer

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Erol DoritarErol Doritar is the second son of a scholarly Kildoran family who pursued a military career against his fathers wishes, and as a result of a disastrous, unauthorized misadventure has spent the last several years as a POW, a slave/gladiator and, more recently, a pirate. Born 16 Vento 2994, in Delfarin, the great capital city of the Kildoran Republic, the 24-year-old has become a skilled fighter. Very good with a gladius and battleaxe, his greatest expertise is with the spear and trident; he also wields a mean net, and knows how to fight dirty.

Standing 5′ 4″ tall, he has a slender but well-muscled build, black hair and hazel eyes, and weighs a solid 140 pounds. He has a wiry strength and sharp reflexes, as well as an above average intellect. His years in the Darikazi arena and the Taruthani Games has left him with a firm grasp of combat medicine, and his months at sea with Darikazi pirates has given him rudimentary sea-faring skills. On horseback, however, he has been compared, unfavorably, to a sack of potatoes.

When Erol was 12 his father, Belin Doritar, a well-respected scholar and teacher, moved the family from the capital to the castle town of Medälk to take up a position as touter to the children of the powerful Senator Aric Kenorda. His mother, Norina Doritar (née Velmin), an artist and poet of some repute in the Republic, was less than thrilled with the move, as was Erol.

Norina’s works of art were much sought after in Patrician homes in Delfarin, and she had been asked to read her poetry at the Opening of the Senate twice – an honor that she has twice declined at her husband’s insistence. Erol believed he was jealous of her success, and disdainful of her poetry, especially. He always saw the move to Medälk as a way for his father to distance his wife from the centers of Kildoran culture and influence.

From that point on, conflict with his father grew stinger and more frequent. Belin expected him, like his older brother, to follow in the family tradition, and become a man of letters and knowledge. But Erol was always more physical and extroverted than cerebral and introspective. He always felt that Evol, his older brother, more than made up for his own scholarly deficiencies – tall, slender, bookish and quiet, he was everything their father wanted and expected in a son. Despite their lack of common ground, or perhaps because of it, the brothers always got on fairly well.

It was the same year that the family moved to Medälk that a Korönian fighting order out of Darikaz, The Red Hand of Pain, seized the Republican keep of Bremkin. This was a shocking blow to the Republic, and full out war was avoided only because the Republic was still reeling from the devastating floods of the previous year, which had severely damaged the capital city and much of the fertile farmland of the Molisan Valley.

Erol were as incensed as anyone at this outrage, and furious at his father when he took a longer view of the event, talking about “the inevitable ebb and flow of the tides of history,” and not taking it seriously (or so it appeared to the young Erol). This was when he first began to rebel against his father’s rule, by taking up the worship of Cael, the Immortal Paladin, rather than Shala, Lady of Wisdom and Knowledge.

When, four years later, the Arushali Earl of Somkari sent armed knights to seize disputed manors along the border, Erol rejoiced when the Republican forces not only repulsed him, but seized the castle of Somkari and the keep at Urdol, gaining a whole new province for the People and Senate of Kildora. It also seemed to put the legions in a position to take back Bremkin Keep with luck and bold leadership.

It was then that he decided to join the Legions, although his first impulsive attempt, at age 16, was rejected – the recruiter didn’t believe the boy was really 20, the legal age to join without parental consent. But two years later he had filled out and bulked up enough to fool them. Running away from home that spring, he was soon a raw recruit in the Topaz Legion based in the fortress town of Olyron, on the Darikazi border.

Near the end of his first year in the legion he was part of an unauthorized attempt to retake Bremkin Keep. An ambitious captain, wishing to show up the great Marshal Satirnus, took two cohorts out on a “training mission,” only to turn aside and invade Darikaz.

He did manage to take the Korönian fighting order by surprise, but unexpected reinforcements from Tovasir doomed the expedition. Most of the legionnaires were killed, and many of the survivors were captured. Since no one knew of any family connections Legionnaire Erol might possess, he was one of the few not eventually ransomed.

After several months in the dungeons of Bremkin he was dragged in chains to the slave market in Tovasir, and there sold by The Red Hand of Pain to the masters of the Taruthani Games. For the next four years he was trained and forced to fight for his life as a gladiator in the bloodthirsty arenas of Darikaz.

In the autumn of 3017 he managed to seize an unexpected chance and escape from the great arena in Izmirk, capital of Darikaz. Hiding in the low, deadly dives of the waterfront, he made the acquaintance of a “freebooter” captain, who was looking for a few good men to fill out his crew. Claiming a bit more knowledge of the sea than he actually possessed (which was none), and bolstered by his demonstrated facility with violence, he was accepted into the crew of the Silverfish.

Unfortunately, life at sea was not all that Erol had hoped for, particularly with a band of pirates. He more than pulled his weight, learning the ways of the ship quickly enough, and his fighting skills made him popular with many of his crew mates. But his unwillingness to kill innocent prisoners did not endear him to the captain or first mate.

When it was Darikazi shipping the pirates preyed on, he managed to quell his scruples – four years of listening to the bloodthirsty crowds at the Games had not made him love the Darikazi any better than he had before. But when they captured and butchered the small crew of an Arushali fishing boat, he drew the line.

Having no desire to return to Darikaz, he eventually decided that being the captain of his own ship might be the best solution to his problems. And there were more than a few members of the crew who agreed that Erol would make a better captain than the one who currently held that post. They began to plot a mutiny.

Unfortunately, not all of Erol’s supporters were entirely trustworthy, and his plans were betrayed to the captain and first officer. Fortunately, the captain’s camp was also possessed of those sympathetic to Erol, and he received warning of the plan to seize him.

It was night and the Silverfish was anchored off the coast of a large island, east of Darikaz. No lights could be seen, and it was a fair swim in unknown waters, but really there was no other choice, cut off as he was from his unready supporters.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped onto the starboard rail, then knifed silently into the dark waters, little knowing that that leap had plunged him into a future that would rock the world…

 

Aftermath of the Battle for Baylora’s Island

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The sun was beginning to rise by the time the group managed to get all of the injured and unconscious away from the Tower and into Baylora’s Sanctum. None of the people who had been enslaved by Viradus for 15 years or more survived the plant’s death… Kelyn Teros, once Baylora’s personal attendant, had been enslaved for over half a century.

Vulk was able to identify Ser Ansel Luderyn, one of Viradus’ warrior slaves whom they’d killed in the tower, by the heraldic device on his tattered clothes. He had been the knight in military command of the Guild of Arcane Lore’s expedition of 3005; Orric Westar, the mage found dead in the same chamber with Ardath, had been the Guild’s representative and overall leader. Who the Northman was remained a mystery… probably one of the mercenaries who made up the bulk of the expedition.

The surviving Hand of Vengeance mercenaries, including Colith… or Alakor, as they now had to think of him… were all weak and dazed, with only spotty memories of the last several days… it seems each had been trapped in some sort of nightmare realm, the shared mind space of the killer plant. Each described a different scenario; some fought battles with monstrous foes, occasionally winning, but more often losing; in either case only to repeat it again and again. Others strove to please a parent or teacher, or competed in tournaments, or fled from unseen horrors. Whatever the specific situation, they remained locked in constant battle.

Ardath and Black Hawk remained in comatose states, despite Vulk’s best efforts and the healing energies of the island itself. The others also slipped into deep sleeps after being laid out in the beds of Baylora’s former students and servants. Drake worried over his brother’s unconscious form until Baylora formed a face from the wood over the bed.

“He will live… have no fear… I sense no lasting taint of the Rot in him… or the others… the power of this place will soon give them… strength… and health… once more.” With that her presence faded away again.

With this assurance, and Marik’s promise to keep watch over the sick, Drake allowed his friends to convince him to return to the Tower to make sure the vicious vegetable was really dead and roasted.

It was mid-morning by the time Devrik, Vulk, Mariala and Drake reentered the ancient tower, and the smoke pouring from the second floor windows had tapered off to occasional wisps. Inside, they found the charred remains of the two enslaved warriors on the blackened and still hot second floor, as well as a carbonized lump where Viradus’ great pod-like body had been. Upstairs the bodies of the serving girl and the Guild mage remained bound in vines that were quickly beginning to shrivel and rot.

In the cellar Devrik hacked apart what seemed to be the plant’s tap root, sunk deep into the stone-lined well they found there, to ensure there’d be no vegetative resurrections. After Drake returned to the Sanctum to seek help for the Gray Ooze fungus he inhaled, the others surveyed the contents of the many crates and boxes in the Tower, and salvaged what seemed worthwhile.

Once the looting was done, Mariala and Vulk drenched the remaining vines and roots of Viradus with oil, while Devrik piled up all the wood he could find on the first floor – crates, boxes and furniture. When all was ready, and his friends were safely outside, he called forth the fire and sent it into the old, dry wood. In minutes, the Tower was ablaze from base to crown, with flames shooting out the windows.

As they watched it burn and, the stone begin to crack, they agreed it was a fitting pyre for the victims of the evil plant’s malice. Mariala noted with some relief that the branches of the Sanctum Oak seemed to pull away from the Tower, up and to the sides, evading the flames, save for a few singed leaves… none of them had considered the Tree when they’d decided to torch the place!

♦

They spent the next three days on the island, the companions camped out in the Garden while the injured remained in the Sanctum. All injuries healed at an amazing rate, every cut and puncture gone within a day, and deeper wounds disappearing in two. By the third day even Ardath and Black Hawk were awake and able to move about.

Ardath remained mentally frail, however… he had been awake and fully aware as Viradus died, and had experienced the agony of the flames in his mind, if not with his body. Mariala felt sorry for him, despite his having brought them all to this point with his impatience and desire for power.

And it was impatience and ambition, not malice or evil intent, that had led Ardath to copy his master’s grimoire and undertake to uncover Baylora’s secrets. He talked, especially to Mariala, as he recovered, and he had no strength or will left for deception or guile. She learned much of his state of mind and his thoughts as he rambled his confessions to her. He dreamed of becoming the greatest Torazan mage of his generation, but he lacked the patience to do it the hard way… he had thought his master foolish for not using more of his own mentor’s (Baylora’s) work, and when he saw a chance to do so himself, he seized it.

He faced serious sanctions by the Guild and his own convocation when they returned to civilization, but she suspected that he might come out of it all a more humble man, and better for it. At least she hoped so. Devrik, on the other hand, had little patience for the battered mage’s “excuses,” and little interest in his ultimate fate – just as long as he failed to profit from this fiasco he’d dragged them all into.

Drake spent his own convalescence studying Baylora’s personal copy of Hyrak’s Living Herbal, a work she had greatly expanded. The tangle of roots and shoots that formed the “binding” of the tome drew nourishment from the Oak, and removing it from the library without damage would be impossible, but he learned an amazing amount in his days of study. He also avidly consumed the treatises on alchemy that he found, and by the time they were ready to leave he was bursting with new ideas.

Vulk was similarly impressed by the volumes on medicine that he read, as well as the ones on herblore and alchemy. He came away feeling that he had gained some considerable insight into the workings of the human body, and how to heal it. And it was a particular section on the efficacy of certain molds to halt infection that led him to wonder about the mounds of faintly glowing green mold that used to be Baylora and her assistant… both Mariala and Devrik agreed that they radiated intense Torazan energies, and given the general healing properties of the island…

In the end he discussed it with the spirit of the Tree, as best he could.

“Yes, I think it likely that the… dross that was once… my body…” she said when he told her his thoughts. “How strange to think of… having once had such a form… but yes, I think it may well impart some beneficial… effect… it was a great healing spell I was working on… when the Release… occurred…

“It would please me… to think I might yet… help heal some of… the hurts of the world… take what you will…”

With Drake’s help, Vulk gathered several samples of the mold from each mound, storing them in solid ceramic jars, with various growth mediums in each. When they returned to civilization, between the two of them, they would see if they could find a way to use this gift…

Both Mariala and Devrik spent many hours perusing Baylora’s worn, but serviceable, copy of Parting the Veil, painfully drawing nuggets of insight about the arts of divination from the author’s scrawled meanderings. It was late in the final afternoon of their time on the island that Devrik had a psionic breakthrough.

As they poured over the book together, a vision of Cantor Kirdik Hanol, the Korönian adversary of his youth, overwhelmed him – Hanol, in full religious garb, in a high-ceilinged stone chamber, lit only by firelight, laughing in triumph over a dark-haired woman bound in chains before him.

The vision left him shaken, angry and afraid, although he couldn’t say why, exactly. Mariala was very sympathetic, recognizing the signs of what she had gone through when her own Second Sight manifested itself several years ago.

“No doubt being around me,” she said, offering a goblet of cool water, “and our constant practice with the tarot decks, has stimulated the latent talent within you. Now that you know you have the Sight, using the cards or stones should become easier!”

Devrik merely grunted in reply, though he did throw her a weak smile as he went to lay down. His mind was in a whirl… this was what he had always wanted, a way to see the future, to be sure he would do no harm if he used the fire… now, maybe, he could be sure. Especially if he managed to work out the secrets in the spell scroll he had found in the Library – Xydona’s Flame it was called, and it promised to give him the power to see the future in the flames themselves…

In the end, they packed up all of Baylora’s books, including her journals, as well as most of the treasures she had gathered during her travels around the world. They also took much in the way of mundane items, from 300’ of fine silk rope, in 30’ and 60’ sections, to grappling hooks, spikes and dozens of exotic and common spices. Not to mention the still mostly full keg of very fine brandy.

Two of the boats that had brought Ardath and the Hand of Vengeance to the island were damaged beyond repair, but the smallest was fixable. Thus, they were able to load everyone and their loot into four overloaded boats on the morning of the fourth day, after their farewells to the spirit of Baylora in her great oak tree.

For much of their stay within her Sanctum the group had heard and seen little of the surviving essence of the great mage, and what they did hear or see was often confusing. It was clear that whatever she was now, Baylora was no longer very human in her perspective. Her “speech” was hesitant, as if trying to remember the meaning behind the words she spoke, and it was filled with references to “the Green” and other, even less comprehensible ideas.

But she did make if clear that the humans who had defeated and destroyed her “great mistake” were welcome to take what they were able to from the worldly possessions that had once been hers. Her only demand was that any maps or written descriptions of the location of her island be left behind.

“With Viradus… gone… and the Rot… vanquished… I am content in the Green,” she told them all as they gathered in the Garden Room, beneath her statue, through which she “spoke.”

“I am done… with the strife and… contention… of the human world… I wish for no… other visitors… and I ask for your… word… that you will keep the… secret… of my home…”

The companions, as well as the mercenaries and Ardath, all agreed that they would tell no one else of the location of her island and Sanctum. As they spoke the words a sweet, tangy aroma rose all around them… the smell was both exhilarating and a bit dizzying, but both sensations quickly passed.

As they turned to go, and the mercenaries filed out the door and across the stepping stones, Baylora spoke one final time, specifically to Mariala.

“Sister… I would ask a boon… of you…”

A section of the living wall opened near Mariala, and the jorum box with which Viradus had hoped to destroy its creator appeared within.

“Take this… jorum… away from here… do with it as… you will… but I will risk its presence… no more… yet you may find… it useful… it bears my… signature? Mark? Those who knew me… will know it… is mine… if any doubt… the story you will… tell…”

With that the statue became just a statue again, and they knew Baylora was gone, back into the Green, whatever exactly that was. Mariala lifted the ornate box from the gap, which quickly closed up again, and they turned to leave the Tree for the last time.

♦

With the boats so laden with loot, they took their time polling through the waters of the marsh, but even so, Baylora’s island disappeared into the mists behind them quickly enough. Black Hawk directed them, impatiently, towards an area where they could expect to meet his people, and receive their help.

He had at first been suspicious of the “outlanders,” but too weak from his ordeal to do much about it. But as he healed and heard the tale of how they had come to the island, he began to relax. When Devrik told him of their encounter with his sister, Raven, he became quite talkative.

It seemed that the particular nightmare he had been trapped in, within the mind of the plant, was one wherein he tried to save his sister from the coils and ravenous jaws of a huge marsh serpent. Sometimes he succeeded, only to have her slip away into the mists and be taken again; other times he failed, and would be sunk in despair until he heard her cries again.

It was a great relief to hear from these strangers that she lived and was unharmed, but he would not truly believe it until he saw her again. And so he drove the group on as quickly as they would go, if not as quickly as he wished.

♦

It was mid-day when they came upon a small hunting party of the Golana, who at first were inclined to flee what seemed to be the ghosts of those who had entered the taboo waters. But with much coaxing and explanation Devrik and Black Hawk were able to convince them that they still lived, and had escaped the dread area.

The hunting party then quickly led the party to the Golana village, a collection of reed huts and longhouses built on floating platforms an arrangement that could be altered in configuration or moved to a new location with relative ease and quite quickly. In the time Black Hawk had been enslaved they had moved several times, in fact.

It was a joyous and amazed reunion, once everyone came to understand what had happened. Raven was torn between her happiness to have her brother back, and Devrik’s safe return. Over the course of the two days the party spent with the Golana Rethmani their hunting chief, Red Snake, several times offered Devrik a place in the tribe.

“I am honored, my friend,” Devrik replied finally, at the third offer. “But I have responsibilities elsewhere, and I cannot linger here, much as I might wish to.”

Red Snake accepted this, and made it clear that Devrik, as well as his friends, was welcome amongst them at any time. Raven was less understanding, but when Devrik made a counter offer, that she accompany him out into the wider world, she grew quite.

“I am torn, my love,” she said at last. “My heart pulls me to you, as does the promise of adventure, excitement… but I have only just regained my brother, and my family needs me…”

In the end they were forced to recognize a stalemate, and again prepared to say good-bye. Their love-making that last night was both passionate and bittersweet.

It was during their time with the Golana that the group began to realize that they had no real memory of exactly where Baylora’s island was located.

“If we ever return to the Island,” Vulk was saying to Mariala, “it should be an easy matter, even without the maps. We just…”

He paused, looking puzzled.

“Yes,” agreed Mariala. “It’s not difficult once you know… the… landmarks…” she tapered off into her own confused silence.

“I can see the island, remember everything that happened,” Vulk went on slowly. “But when I try to remember how we came there… or even how we left…”

“It’s all a blank,” Mariala agreed. “Baylora must have tampered with our memories somehow!”

After questioning the others who had been on the island, they soon realized that none of them could remember exactly where the Island was, or how to find it again. This news only reinforced the Golana’s inclination to keep up their taboo on visiting the area, and they agreed to Devrik’s suggestion that they guide no one else there in the future.

♦

The trek back up the river proved delightfully uneventful. In Pelon Ferry they were able to sell back their boats, although at a fraction of what they’d paid, and Drake even managed to get back Kemis the mule.

The overland journey through the northern wetlands back to Oroth was equally placid, with only the thrill of the hunt to break the boredom of the march and the annoyance of the biting insects.

Drake and his brother spent a great deal of time together, talking quietly, heads bent close together. It was during this time that Drake finally got the whole story of his brother’s disappearance so many years ago.

“I stumbled upon our dear uncle one night… I had snuck out to meet Alica Joreton, for a tumble in the old grange storehouse… Uncle Querdon was there, which I thought very odd. He was dressed, as always, in black, and seemed… furtive.

“I soon realized why when two other men entered – Ser Danyes Bernan and a small, rat-like man I didn’t recognize. I could hear them quite clearly, for all that they spoke quietly, and they fell quickly to business – criminal business! The small man seemed to be with the Zalik-mal, but deferred in a cringing sort of way to Ser Danyes… as did our uncle.

“I didn’t understand everything they said, but it was soon clear that Uncle Querdon was selling illicit plants and herbal preparations to the knight and his pet thief, who were then turning them into drugs to be sold in the larger market towns.

“I would have moved away then, and run to summon the Guard, but I was undone by an ancient, rusting hoe. I stumbled over it, and in a flash the little rat-like man was on me… I was young, and knew little of fighting then, as you know… still I managed a good blow with that rusty hoe!”

He paused, raising a hand to his scarred face and missing right eye.

“But all that did was enrage him, and that’s when I lost my eye and gained the first of these scars, at his dagger’s point. I was on the ground, only semi-conscious, when Ser Denyes and our uncle came to stand over me. The last thing I remember was Uncle Querdon hissing my name in anger, before the knight’s boot kicked me into darkness.

“When I awoke, I was still in the old grange hall, but the place was in flames. I stumbled up and towards the back, where the heat seemed less, but the flames were everywhere. I ran through them and out the back door, but my clothes caught… if I had not run almost into the arms of Alica, I would have been much more badly burned, perhaps have died… but she managed to put me out, and only the side of my face and my right arm was badly burned.

“I was dazed, in terrible pain, and could hardly walk, but I knew I was dead if Ser Danyes learned of my escape… somehow I convinced Alica to take me to her father’s shop, by the back streets… it wasn’t far. By then men had begun to fight the fire, and we slipped into the shadows just in time…

“Old Joreton took care of me, as I mumbled out my story, and agreed I must remain ‘dead’ for my own safety. He seemed unsurprised to hear of the crimes of Ser Danyes, much less of my uncle, though he said little, beyond agreeing they were ‘a bad lot.’

“In a day or two he arranged to smuggle me out of town in a shipment of his pottery, bound for Tendus, in the south. I was still semi-delirious, but I made him swear he would get word to you, to get you to safety as well…”

“I never heard a word from him,” Drake said. “But eight years later I found a note, wedged under the door jam of our uncle’s back door… it had obviously been there a very long time, yellowed and moldy. It was in a feminine hand, and said you had discovered our uncle was a criminal, and paid the for the knowledge. It was that note that led me to follow the old man, and see him handing over poisons to Ser Danyes. I left home that very night, fearing they’d murder me, as they must have you.”

“Hmmm, I wonder if Alica defied her father, and tried to get word to you,” Alakor wondered. “I think he must have decided it was safer to leave you be than to get further involved in such dangerous matters… I suppose I can’t blame him, though I wish he’d been… well, he was good enough to save me, and we’re together now, so all’s well that ends well, eh brother?”

“Except that it hasn’t ended yet, has it?” cried Drake. “That bastard Ser Danyes is now the Constable of Dür, and our vile uncle continues to thrive, providing drugs and poisons to him and the Zalik-mal!”

“That is true, Draik,” Alakor replied with a slight smile. “But not for very much longer, I pray.

“I have spent all the years since I fled seeking out a means for my revenge… when I never heard from you, I feared you had been killed, perhaps that very same night if the conspirators wanted to take no chances. So I became a mercenary and always I sought evidence of the crimes of Ser Danyes Bernan.

“Over the years I brought together good men, eventually seizing control of the Hand when our former captain threatened to ruin my work. By then I knew you were alive, of course, as you had found your way to my side – I think your allegiance to Kasira is a wise one, I remain amazed at our luck!

“But when you didn’t recognize me, I thought it best to remain hidden. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I had kept my secrets so long, it seemed easier, and safer for you, to keep you in the dark.”

He looked directly at his younger brother then, and put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes suddenly full of pain.

“I hope you can forgive me, Draik, I–”

Drake pulled his bother to him in a fierce embrace.

“Of course I forgive you, I just thank Kasira you’re alive. And now that we’re together again, nothing will stop us from destroying both Danyes Bernan and our damn uncle!”

After a moment they pulled apart, looking away from each other, embarrassed by the water in their eyes. Eventually Alakor slapped Drake on the back and they continued walking.

“I think we may be close to achieving that goal, brother,” Alakor said, slapping at a swarm of gnats around his face. “This mage Ardath has information about the Constable’s activities, information that may just be what we need to bring him down. It’s why I took the job with Ardath, you see…”

♦

Arriving in Oroth after dusk, the party decide to break up and make their way to several different inns, so as not to draw attention to themselves. Cris is thrilled to see them, especially Drake. He’s kept an eye on all the horses, and has come to know many of the stable hands (some quite well). After a day of rest, keeping a low profile, they manage to get all the horses and gear back together, and leave town at dawn of the next day.

The road back to Devok was almost a pleasure after the journey through the swamps, although there was a little tension as the by-passed the town of Ujen. But the trip was uneventful, and they reached Devok in the late morning of 16 Metisto, a beautiful spring day full of promise and life.

♦

The next month was a busy one for the four companions and their friends, as they set about tying up the loose ends of their latest adventure. Master Vetaris was the first to hear the full tale of the discovery of Baylora’s Sanctum, and was able to verify its truth through the agency of the jorum Mariala had brought back. The journals also provide a less esoteric confirmation of their story, for those not versed in the arcane arts. The mage agreed to take custody of Ardath, as a “guest” in his home, until they could decide what to do with him. The younger mage offered no resistance.

While Vulk saw to the affairs of Fortune’s Favor, Drake and Devrik saw to the disposition of the mundane loot taken from Baylora’s Sanctum, and worked with Alakor for a fair division amongst the group and the survivors of The Hand of Vengeance. Alakor himself began seeking out new recruits to build his company back up to full strength. Mariala spent much time closeted with her mentor, and occasionally Ardath, studying the arcane materials recovered from the Island.

Once the finances were settled, and other aspects of life seen to, it was agreed that Ardath must be taken to the Guild of Arcane Lore’s great hall in Lothkir, were he could best be brought to task for his actions. Master Vetaris, Mariala and Devrik, along with two of Alakor’s mercenaries, undertook the journey. They also bore such of Baylora’s artifacts and tomes as they had decided to turn over to her former chantry.

They were gone for two tendays, and returned with much to tell their friends – of Ardath’s judgement by the Guild Council, of the reception of the news that Baylora’s Sanctum had been found, and of the excitement of the big city. Vulk and Drake also had tales to share, of their voyage aboard the Fortune’s Favor on her latest trading voyage, and adventures in the south.

In the days that followed, they all settled into a quiet routine of study, training and relaxation. The only real blight was Devrik’s occasional nightmares, which he could never quite remember, except that they involved fire and fear. Until the night of 9 Agras, when he woke with his vision still seared clear in his mind – Raven, belly swollen with a child, wreathed in flames and screaming in the combined agony of childbirth and burning. He didn’t get back to sleep that night.

It was two days later, as the companions and some friends were enjoying a warm almost-summer evening supper at their inn, that the quiet calm of their existence was suddenly disturbed. The door to the common room burst open suddenly, slamming against the wall as a tall figure staggered in.

“Devrik!” the figure cried. “I must find Devrik…”

It took a moment for the companions to recognize Black Hawk of the Golana Rethmani – his face was bruised and swollen, his bandaged and in a sling, his leg swathed in bloody rags. Devrik leapt to his side even as the other patrons of the inn recoiled.

“Brother,” he rasped, “what has happened to you?”

“Devrik, they’ve taken her…” Black Hawk sagged against his friend. “…Raven…”

“Who?! Who has taken Raven?” Devrik pulled the injured man to the nearest table and pushed him onto the bench.

“Gulvini… we were travelling to find you… to tell you…” Black Hawk seemed to have trouble focusing. “In the hills… they left me for dead… but they took care not to harm her… or your unborn child.”

With that he collapsed onto the table, unconscious, as Devrik stared in shock at him.

 

Aftermath of the Ambush in the Delta

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Aftermath of the Ambush in the Delta

The night after the battle with the Iron Claw patrol was a busy one. With the help of Raven’s people, led by a warrior named Red Snake, the bodies were dragged off to the far side of the islet and dumped into the murky waters, an offering to whatever carnivores might inhabit them tonight.

A large portion of the Golana Rethmani left then, taking the sole surviving Darikazi soldier with them, to what fate Mariala didn’t care to think about. They had learned what they needed from the man – that the Darikazi had been led by a cantor of Korön who had fallen out with the military leader of the troop send to track the “interlopers.” While the majority had continued on to the ruins of Vindar, Cantor Ejesu had led his small band south, certain they were seeking some lost mage’s redoubt.

A handful of the tribesmen remained behind, including Raven. They helped the group move their campsite away from the scene of the battle, the better to avoid any predators attracted by the blood. They also provided food to add to the interrupted supper Drake had been preparing, and 12 people sat down around the fire to enjoy the meal.

Most of the Golana spoke an intelligible enough, if strangely accented, version of Yashparic that communication was easy. Indeed, during the meal both Drake and Vulk made them laugh several times, and themselves had no trouble understanding the bawdy tales told by their guests.

Devrik and Raven sat close to one another, sharing his mess kit, at the far edge of the campfire. She had witnessed Devrik and his flaming battle-sword as he slew the evil cantor of Korön. Already impressed by his earlier dispatch of the charging aurochs bull with a single blow, her attraction to the muscular fighter was obvious. It came as no surprise to anyone when the two of them slipped off into the dark after the meal towards Devrik’s tent (which he had set up rather farther from the others than he usually did, Vulk noted to Drake). After a few crude comments and whistles from the tribal warriors, the conversation turned suddenly serious.

“You are foolish to go to the haunted isle,” Red Snake said to Vulk, frowning. “Over the years, many have gone in, but few have ever returned. For a time, it was considered by the young men to be a sign of bravery to dare a night on the island… but we lost so many that the wise women have made it a taboo place.”

“Not that it stops all hot-heads,” added one of the other warriors, an older man. “A few still skirt the edges of the forbidden area, risking banishment to prove their courage and skill… they are occasionally also lost.”

“Yes,” agreed Red Snake. “She feels it is bad luck to speak of it, but Raven’s older brother, Black Hawk, disappeared so, three summers past… I myself, when younger and foolish in my pride, came within sight of the cursed island. What I saw… the trees were green with leaves, though it was winter; an otter the size of a wolf; and most horrible, marsh spiders larger than my head. I am not ashamed to say I was glad the place is taboo, and I could turn back without dishonor.”

A grim silence settled over the group.

“You are not of the Rethmani,” Red Snake continued, “so it is not for us to forbid you; but you are brave and skilled fighters, and you aided one of us at some risk to yourselves. I would not see you die for a fools quest.”

“It is a fool’s quest,” Vulk agreed. “But it is our friends that have been lured into it, by one who wants to take the power on the island for his own; he is either a fool himself, who doesn’t understand the danger, or he lied to our friends. Either way, we must try to save them and stop Ardath from meddling with this deadly power… even if he fails to seize it, he may cause it to spread beyond the confines of the island.”

The tribesmen shuddered at this prospect, and although it was obvious they held little hope for their success, they murmured to one another in solemn acknowledgement of the burdens of loyalty and friendship.

“Very well,” Red Snake said at last. “If this is your jhehara, then so be it. We will lead you to the sorceress’s island in the morning.”

With that the party broke up, and everyone turned in for the night. The Golana insisted on taking the night’s watches, to leave the group as rested as possible for whatever lay ahead tomorrow. The companions gladly agreed.

 

At dawn they broke camp. Drake nudged Mariala as they worked on folding her tent, nodding to where Devrik and Raven stood beneath a tree at the edge of the clearing, apparently arguing hotly. “Maybe he’s not as good in the lists as his… sword work… might imply,” he smirked after watching the heated exchange for a few minutes.

“I doubt that was the problem,” Mariala replied with a sardonic smile, looking over his shoulder. Drake turned to see the two now locked in a passionate embrace. He shrugged and gave a laugh as he tugged the last strap on the tent-roll tight.

The boats were soon loaded, and after a quick, cold breakfast, they were pushing away from the shore, led by the Golana in their small coracles. Raven traveled in the boat with Devrik, her own coracle towed easily behind.

 

As they wound through the maze-like channels of the marsh it grew steadily more humid and mist-shrouded, and it was less than two hours past dawn when they emerged into a large lake amidst an even larger island. In the center of the lake lay Baylora’s Island, a jungle of dense foliage down to the shoreline; but what caught and held their attention was a massive oak tree that towered over the other trees, apparently at the center of the island.

“By the Lady’s luck,” whispered Vulk, “that thing must be 200 feet high!”

“We have come further than we should already,” Red Snake said quietly, paddling up beside the boats. “Come Raven, it is time to go.”

Reluctantly, with a last kiss for Devrik, Raven slid smoothly into her coracle. “Goodbye my friends,” she said sadly, “I shall pray for your safe return!” She spoke to the group, but her eyes were solely on Devrik.

With quiet, quick good-byes the Golana Rethmani turned and paddled swiftly back up the channel to the relative safety of the mundane marshlands. The group turned back to the mysterious island ahead, and began to move slowly toward it.

Power throbbed in the air, and played on the nerves of Mariala, Devrik and Vulk… even Drake seemed to feel the oppressive hush that blanketed them. Only Marik seemed oblivious to the uncanny energies they were gliding into…

As they neared the shore they could see, shrouded in slowly swirling mists, the foundations of a ruined tower at the water’s edge, and a stone dock crumbling into the murk at its foot. The hulks of three partially sunk boats could be seen in the water near the dock, and one seemingly undamaged boat, dragged half ashore.

As the Golana had claimed, the trees on the island seemed larger and more robust, the vegetation thicker and more lush than they’d seen elsewhere in the Delta, with great twisting vines twining through everything. Spring, barely begun in the outside world, seemed greatly advanced on the island…

Aftermath of the Road to Oroth

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The companions came into Oroth a somber and worried group, Tense with the strain of looking over their shoulders for pursuit from the fiasco in Ujen two nights prior, they quickly found a decent looking inn near the south gate of the town, the Sign of the Red Fox. Devrik and Drake both agreed it would make a quick get-away easier, should such a maneuver become necessary.

Cris was recovered enough from his injuries to take the horses and pack mule to the nearest stables, since the inn’s small stable was already full; Mariala went with him, just to be sure he wasn’t rooked. Devrik took Obras’ ashes to the undertaker recommended by the innkeeper, and laid out 50 silver pennies for a decent bronze urn, while Drake and Vulk began quiet inquiries into the whereabouts of The Hand of Vengeance company.

By the time they gathered back at the inn for an early supper, they had learned that Captain Colith and his company, along with a bookish looking young fellow, had set out at mid-day three days earlier, on foot. They had purchased food and supplies clearly meant for a foray into the trackless reaches of the Delta’s marshes and swamps. Everyone who knew anything of the party seemed quite sure that they were planning an expedition to Vindar, former capitol of the Necromancer’s empire, now a ruin of cursed and haunted rubble sinking slowly into the swamps. When pressed, no one could remember anyone of the company saying so specifically, but they all held the same very strong impression.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Mariala said when all the facts learned so far had been shared. “Perhaps Ardath isn’t seeking out Baylora’s sanctum afterall, but going for something else, something in the ruins of Vindar…”

“An even more dangerous adventure, if half the tales told about that cursed place are true,” replied Drake. “But I doubt that it’s true.”

“I agree,” Devrik nodded. “The captain is too canny to let every Thom, Dak and Harad in town know what his business really was. I’ve seen him lead them as was too curious about his affairs down the garden path before, with them none the wiser he’d done so.”

“So,” replied Vulk, “if everyone they came in contact with in Oroth thinks they’re headed for Vindar, then that’s probably the one place in the Delta they aren’t going!”

The others nodded agreement, then went silent as the serving wench bustled into the private dining nook they’d taken for their meal, laying out their hot chocolate and a selection of small pastries. She gave Devrik a wink and swing of her hips as she turned to go, but he was too sunk in his thoughts to pay much heed.

“But even if we leave in the morning, and we’re not ready for that, they’re two and a half days ahead of us now,” he rumbled. “Damn! So close!”

“We may be able to overtake them,” Vulk offered. “There’s twenty men in the Company, and Ardath is bound to slow them further, since I doubt he can match them physically on the march.”

“Plus, there’s no reason to believe they’re in any particular rush,” added Mariala. “There’s no deadline to find the Sanctum, after all – it’s been hidden for half a century, what’s another day or two?”

She undercut this a bit when she continued, “Of course, Ardath did strike me as the impatient sort… always looking for short cuts.”

“It’s true that Colith would want to husband the men’s strength on the journey, if he believed there might be fighting at the end,” mused Drake. “I don’t know how much this Ardath told him of the real dangers, but even if he down-played them, the captain would assume the worst.”

Devrik snorted. “True enough, but with the arcane involved I’m not sure he really could imagine the worst… that’s what drives me mad about all this, that they may walk blindly into dangers they don’t even know enough of to look for!”

After some more back-and-forth, when the chocolate and the pastries were gone, it was agreed that they would spend tomorrow preparing themselves for the journey into the Delta, and leave at dawn on the day following. This would put the Hand and their employer more than four days ahead of them, but they were determined to overtake them before they reached their mysterious goal.

“After all,” Mariala pointed out, “just because Ardath thinks he knows where he’s going, doesn’t mean it will be that simple to actually find the place. There’s bound to be some casting about, maybe even some backtracking, and who knows what other delays.”

“True,” agreed Devrik. “But unfortunately the same problems face us too, along with the need to track our quarry.”

With that the group retired to their rooms, to rest or pursue other pastimes, depending on mood and inclination. And everyone kept an ear cocked for the tread of official boots that might indicate the killings in Ujen had been traced to them…

————————————————————

The next day dawned clear and sunny, the first truly spring-like day since the season had changed. Each of the group, after a quick breakfast, headed out into the town to take care of their part of the preparations. It had been agreed they would let it be know that they were part of The Hand of Vengeance, previously on detached duty and now hurrying to catch up with their fellows. And they’d also agreed to perpetuate the idea that the ruins of Vindar were indeed their goal.

Drake’s first task was to see to the long-term stabling of the horses. Although they would be taking the mule into the marshes, there was no point in leading their steeds to almost certain foundering and death, when they’d be unable to make use of their speed in any case. Cris led him to the stable he’d hired the night before, before heading off on his own errands.

As Drake entered the building, his eyes slow to adjust to the fragrant dimness after the bright morning sun, he was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, wheeling him around.

“Drake?! Drake Bartoff?! By Agara’s balls, is that really you?!”