|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
           |
| |
|
The Spirit Caller - Chapter 7 Written by: Cymrick Ravenfoot STRING DRAWN AND ARROW NOCKED Obsession is the only way I can describe my desire to re-create the circumstances of my father's death. Since my near demise in the clutches of bad weather, the Spirit of Wolves has dogged my steps. After learning from my mother that the Wolf Spirit appeared on the day of my father's death, I became convinced that she bore some unhealthy interest in my family. This notion eventually led me to the Surefall Glade, where I hoped to make more sense of my involvement with the spirit. So far my efforts had been in vain. No one left alive knows why Robert Ross went to Surefall, when his family was imperiled by plague. My father's death still seems to be the work of illness. My own recovery from the same illness would seem to be just an unexpected blessing. The presence of the Wolf Spirit at every turn is still an unexplained mystery. The simplest explanation is that my life is a series of tragic coincidences and that I am more than half mad. Now, I have been drawn away from my own plans by matters that have seemingly little consequence to me. Only a strong feeling that I am pursuing a matter of importance drives me onwards at this point. It is interesting to see what lengths I will go to in order to satisfy my own curiosity. Asketlal Armadis stalked through the dank tunnels of Blackburrow, a thundercloud hovering over his head. Few would guess from looking upon him that he was a killer and robber many times over. Asketlal's appearance did nothing to make him stand out from a crowd. He was darkly tanned with black hair, prematurely white at the temples, and a muscular but not imposing build. Furthermore, his average features, save for a nose bearing the telltale signs of having been broken, did little to inspire dread. It was a lingering sense of menace that followed in the killer's wake that made an impression. He strode past the snarling beasts of Blackburrow, simple hunter gnoll and mighty guardsman alike, and paid them no more attention than he would pay mewing kittens. No one barred his path. Even if he were not a guest of King Tranixx, the gnolls would have thought twice about accosting him. For no reason that could be clearly identified, the dusky rogue seemed a man who had wielded the gravedigger's shovel on many occasions. The erudite half-breed made brisk progress through the cramped tunnels, arriving at his destination with no delays. The chamber occupied by his employer was not large or spacious, but it was isolated. The only living soul in the barren passage leading to his chamber was Jexam, standing in the doorway like a great steel obelisk. Jexam was a frightening mountain of plate armor. He was so still, there was little to distinguish him from a statue, save for his cold blue eyes glaring from his horned great helm. His armor was pure black, inlaid with gold piping that formed a great eagle on his chest and running tigers on his greaves. Clutched in his gauntleted hands was a massive great axe, a weapon far too large and heavy for any ordinary man to wield. Jexam bore his equipment with the unconscious ease of a smock-clad artisan carrying paint brushes. In the shadowy circles that this dark knight's name was spoken, Jexam Plaguebow was renowned for his might and feared for his cruel amusements. As always, Asketlal was wary but unimpressed by Jexam. He approached until he stood scarcely two feet from the mail-clad monstrosity and addressed him in an oily tone. "Hello Jexam. I think you are looking well, but I can't be quite certain." The assassin made a great show of examining the unmoving knight while stroking his chin with callused fingers. "I'd like speak with Gorokai, so you must step aside." "Master Gorokai does not wish to be disturbed..." The black knight's grave words issued hollowly from his helmet. His voice was seared of all emotion and his tone carried an implied finality. He declined his head in order to regard his visitor. "You must leave..." "Stand aside, Jexam. I don't answer to misanthrope butlers, only the high priest." Asketlal hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits and his mind working out ways to assail the impressive knight. Rarely did anyone dare to challenge Asketlal and, of those who did, none had survived the experience. Jexam released his grip on his axe and shifted it to his right hand, freeing up one gauntleted fist. "You must leave..." He repeated gravely. Before the erudite assassin had chance to vent his anger upon the towering guardian, a cool, dry voice floated out from the chamber to Jexam's back. "Let him in Jexam. You do good service, but I would speak with this visitor." Without a word Jexam stepped aside, unblocking the doorway. Asketlal entered the chamber, not taking his eyes from the towering shadowknight for an instant. Once inside Gorokai's temporary residence, the rogue carefully smoothed his features into a mask of deference and turned to face the High Priest of Entropy. Master Gorokai was an impressive figure, not because of finery or stature but because of sheer force of presence. Where Asketlal was accompanied by an air of menace, Gorokai was followed by a feeling that could only be described as brooding malevolence. He was clad to the waist in cotton trousers common to any street rabble, bound at the belt with a simple cloth sash. His chest, arms and neck were all naked and his skin deeply tanned, as if exposed to the fires of the underworld. His hair was a stark contrast to his dark flesh, pure white and falling nearly to his waist in long strands. There were visible tattoos on Gorokai's exposed flesh, spidery markings that bore an unsettling resemblance to a coroner's tracings, including an incision over the priest's heart. When the high priest raised his gaze from his canons, his eyes bored into Asketlal, pale green and as cool as his voice. There were eight metal studs driven into the priest's left cheek, arranged into a hollowed box. Where Jexam was well known in the community of killers and cultists that Asketlal inhabited, Gorokai's name was only whispered by the most knowledgeable and hardy of Bertoxxulous' minions. To those who know of him, the High Priest of Entropy was said to have seen a hundred years pass during his servitude to the Lord of Decay. Seen in person, Gorokai lived up to the tales of his deeds. Though he looked only to be a healthy man of forty years, his eyes were ancient. He was a dark saint of a religion that is considered utterly profane by all creatures who worship the light. Ancient wisdom and indefatigable evil both resided comfortably within his blackened frame. He didn't stand to greet his visitor. "Asketlal, something troubles you." The ancient cleric's voice was cool and unhurried. Gorokai had not asked him a question. Asketlal was certain he already knew all that lurked in his visitor's heart. Voice level and businesslike, Asketlal got straight to the point. "Yes. I don't like the direction your employment has taken me in. The challenge posed by your request was intriguing, as was the chance to serve the mortal voice of Our Lord. However, I have since had to deal with all manner of vermin in order to dispose of the items I seized. First that orc slaver and now these filthy gnolls. I don't like the company I am keeping or the uncertainty of my destination." "You are not happy in my employ." the cleric mouthed the words carefully, as if tasting them. "I am not happy about all aspects of your employment, Master Gorokai." Asketlal chose his words carefully, "I am quite looking forward to the moment where I receive remuneration for my acts in your stead." "Yes. I can see that you are strongly motivated to receive payment." Gorokai stood. He snatched a bejeweled dirk from his writing desk and unsheathed it. "You have my assurance that you will receive the reward you deserve upon our arrival in Qeynos." He moved slowly and deliberately in the assassin's direction. "I hope you'll forgive me, your Holiness, if I'm not entirely fond of that turn of phrase." Asketlal didn't move, or betray any tension, but his eyes followed the dagger in the high priest's hand. "I am not certain how I will spend my reward either. After performing your tasks, I've gotten authorities from all three continents looking for me." Touching the naked blade in his hand, Gorokai responded, "Taking Death's Toll is a rather overt calling card, my son. Perhaps you would have better eluded pursuit if you had forgone your usual aesthetics in favor of stealth." Asketlal paused, sweat dampening the small of his back while his mind worked swiftly behind his impassive features. "Now you are talking nonsense." he replied laconically. "You knew when you hired me that I take inspiration from Our Lord's work. A duty that cannot be performed in a fashion befitting a true slayer, is not a duty worth undertaking." He waited in tense silence to see if his response pleased the high priest. When Gorokai suddenly thrust the dagger in his direction, pommel first, it took all his will to not jump aside. Despite the assassin's best efforts to stay still, he dropped one hand to his belt involuntarily. "Well said, Asketlal." The icy cleric offered him the bejeweled dagger, the naked blade pointing directly at his own tattooed heart. He reached up and seized the hilt but the priest did not release his grip. "I do not wish you to vanish back into the shadows quite yet, Asketlal. That is why you have not yet been paid." "Hmm?" the assassin queried, his demeanor unruffled despite the strangeness of his situation. He kept his hand resting lightly upon the dagger aimed at his employer's heart. "I have certain future tasks for you to perform." The high priest's eyes gleamed, an infernal fire lighting them from within. "Tasks that will make all the petty lawmen, small-minded thief-catchers, and cloddish constables of Norrath forget about your previous misdeeds." A smile slowly creeping across his features, Asketlal finally responded, removing his off-hand from the hilt of his belt knife. "I'm suddenly intrigued again." "Very good. I will require your patience, as I cannot explain my plans to you at present." He released the hilt of the jeweled dagger. "But take this dagger as a token of the rewards to come." Asketlal briefly examined the electrum and emerald inlay on the weapon before replying. "A most generous gesture, your Holiness. I look forward to working with you again, in the near future." He bowed and turned to leave, only to discover that Jexam was standing within the chamber watching him closely. "I'm leaving now." he said. The towering knight stepped aside to let him pass and he made good his escape. How long had Jexam been standing there? And why didn't I hear him enter? With the assassin gone from his master's chambers, Jexam spoke up, "An unruly servant, Master Gorokai... He cannot be trusted..." Gorokai had not moved since Asketlal departed. He now moved decisively to the hastily prepared altar in his chamber. Kneeling before it, he touched the basin of blood resting upon its surface. King Tranixx had been generous in donating the blood of unwanted gnoll pups to complete his shrine to the Lord of Decay. "Asketlal Armadis is merely not content to be an unquestioning pawn in my schemes... that may in time prove to be useful to me." The dark priest reflected momentarily upon his god's visage before continuing. "You are too simple minded about these matters, Jexam. The assassin holds out his motivations for me to see. It is easy to judge how far he may be trusted." "Should he fail us..." Jexam left the question hanging in the air. "He will be punished, provided he is no longer of any use to us." Gorokai responded. "The honor of meting out punishment falls to you Jexam, as always." "As you wish master... The will of Bertoxxulous be done..." the ashen knight breathed fervently. I had little to tell Autumn about my dealings with Taelosi. After speaking with the elven ranger about his hunt and reflecting on my own coincidental involvement in his affairs, I had little insight to share with the half-elf druid. Privately, I suspected that there was some hidden significance to the quest undertaken by Soleim and Taelosi, but I couldn't see what at the moment. Autumn had equally illuminating findings for me. There was no mention of my father in Saggius Hothwell's journals. In fact, it appeared that the cantankerous druid had stopped recording his business at roughly the same time my father would have visited him. I hoped that this was a coincidence. True to her word, Autumn also performed an augury to The Great Mother. When attempting to determine what dealings The Mother's servant had had with my father, if any, she was met with only silence. Tunare's stubborn reluctance to provide guidance was puzzling and disturbing. Either the tales of my father's death were widely inaccurate, or there was some secret that The Mother was not willing to tell her own children. I'm inclined to believe it must be the latter, rather than the former. I know Scon well enough to trust that he is not prone to exaggeration, especially about the day his trusted friend died. The only avenue of inquiry left to me now was to somehow confront the Spirit of Wolves again. Whatever was the true reason for my father's death and my own survival as an infant, I knew she was present during both events. I vowed to haunt the tundra until I could find her again. My own hunt for the spirit would wait, as I had committed to chasing the tail of another task. Taelosi, Soleim and I were to leave the Surefall Glade to gather information on the possible whereabouts of the orc slaver, Golan Gorebrew. Before departing, Taelosi went to speak with Autumn. What passed between them I do not know, but I wouldn't be surprised if one of the topics covered in their conversation was my own quest. I didn't like the idea of my personal secrets being disseminated so freely, but I had to admit that it would only put the ranger and I on equal footing. Two days after our first gathering at the inn in Surefall, my two companions and I left the druid stronghold in favor of the open roads. It was now early fall and the weather was fickle again, gracing us with frequent rain and chilling morning frosts. Despite this, travel through the Qeynos Hills was a relatively painless affair. Water and forage were plentiful, the temperature mild and Antonius' highway was a flawless landmark, making navigation simple. During our travel, I came to know my companions better. Taelosi was both pleasant yet secretive, a good compliment to my own rough, standoffish behavior. I could appreciate both the ranger's competence in woodcraft and his willingness to leave me alone from time to time. Unfortunately, the same could not always be said of Soleim, but the erudite scholar did stave off both boredom and quiet with his musings. Three days of travel left the scattered timber and dark hollows of the hills behind us. Descending into the wagon scarred plains, we followed the highway west. There were many travelers on the roads here. The throngs of humanity made their way on foot, horse, mule and wagon. Most were going the same way as us, with the same destination in mind. I slept fitfully during our first night outside the hills and I found myself leading our party during the following day. The road passed through small hamlets and rustic farms, and the legions of Qeynos could be seen patrolling at every crossroad. Large white gulls picked at the trash cast off by travelers and the wind carried a bracing scent of salt upon its eddies. In the afternoon of our fifth day of travel, we mounted a small rise and the City of Qeynos hovered into view. It was surrounded by a massive stone wall, pierced by only a single gate in the eastern wall. Above the mighty stone works soared the pennants of Antonius Bayle and the Magistracy of Qeynos. Beyond the walls and the tightly packed houses, I could see a harbor and a great shining sea. Large multi-sailed ships crept across the glassy surface of the water. From a distance they resembled a child's toys. I stood and drank in the vista until Taelosi's voice broke me out of my reverie. "Have you never been to Qeynos before, Cymrick?" the pensive elf asked. "No." I answered, while sweeping the battlements of the city with my eyes. "Nor have I ever seen its like before." I peered at the horizon, trying with all my will to see what lay beyond the ocean. "Nor have I ever seen an ocean so vast..." "Erud's Crossing." the elf spoke the name of the ocean in a wistful tone. "Named for the first explorer to find his way to the other side. Beyond it lays the continent of Odus and the City of Erudin." Soleim smiled knowingly. "The city of my birth." Taelosi stared at the horizon, no longer looking at the walled city or the ships on the water. His eyes gleamed as his vision fell upon a scene that existed only in his mind's eye. "How I envy Erud." he said slowly. "Water all about him. The order of the old world left behind and no known destination ahead." The ranger turned towards me, his gaze coming back to reality. "Can you imagine that, Cymrick? No concern save for your next action... nothing familiar but yourself." I grinned as the salty air of the ocean blew up from the strange city ahead. A stranger in a strange land... "Yes. I can imagine that quite vividly, Taelosi." I turned towards the gates of Qeynos and squared my shoulders. "What are we waiting for then?" I started towards the city, my pace brisk. Soleim glanced to his elven companion, a sanguine smile on his face. "It would seem that Qeynos is about to be invaded." Taelosi grinned back, the enthusiasm of his northman companion catching. "Right oh!" And then he dashed ahead to catch up with his young friend. Rolling his eyes heavenward, Soleim donned a sacred mantle that identified him as a priest of Quellious. "The voice of reason again. Your will be done, Quellious." And then the tan-clad scholar raced after his two comrades. I was impressed by the crowds in the streets of the city. Even with the summer season mostly left behind, the city was lively and full of people. There were many merchants making business here, both from the permanent storefronts lining the city streets and from a multitude of temporary stalls in the city's many plazas and markets. There were travelers and merchants, townspeople and children, priests and guardsmen, farmers and artisans, all in the streets of the city, looking to their own business. A small gaggle of boys pitched stones at a farmer's geese while nearby a cleric of Rodcet Nife cried passages to the passersby. As strange a trio as we were, no one paid Taelosi, Soleim and I any heed. There were finished goods of all descriptions for sale, some imported from distant lands and others made locally. The brazen shine of copper, dull gleam of pearl and hard shimmer of iron all tugged at my attention. And the foodstuffs... there were carts piled high were fruits and vegetables I couldn't recognize. The causeways of the city simmered with the smell of roasting meat as the vendors stoked their spits and grills and strove to sell a traveler his next meal. The city itself was different by far from any I'd seen before. Most of the buildings were three stories high and densely packed. A spider's web of narrow lanes twisted off from the main boulevards, running amongst the many residences. Men and women of all descriptions could be seen in the streets and alleys of the city. Children played in the side streets and their mothers watched from the nearby windows. A burly bar owner stood on the porch of his establishment and watched the crowds. A cluster of rough looking young men loitered on a street corner and sized up visitors to the city. I walked in a daze, concentrating only hard enough to follow Taelosi through the maze of streets. Although my elven companion seemed to know where he was going, he slyly examined the guardsmen on the streets and eventually stopped to ask one for directions. "Excuse me, good man." Taelosi clasped his hands together at his waist, like a friar or monk meditating, as he spoke. "I seem to be lost. Could you possibly direct me to a good bar, or another den of sin perhaps?" The guardsman, a man in the middle of his twenties, adjusted his belt and made to answer, but stopped sharply upon getting a good look at the elf. "Taelosi!" he shouted. "Kwint." Taelosi shook the legionnaire's gauntleted hand. Taking notice of the insignia on Kwint's mailed vambrace, he added, "Corporal Kwint. Congratulations." "Aye." The young guardsman rapped his armored knuckles on his breastplate. "A just reward for my sterling service and merry disposition. What brings you to Qeynos, Taelosi? Business or pleasure?" "Business. I'm still on the hunt." Taelosi adjusted his gloves as he spoke. "Kwint? Do you know if the gypsies are in town this fall?" "They are, last I checked. Try the markets in the south ward, near the port." He gave a dry chuckle. "Near the Lion's Mane tavern also. You should be able to get lodgings there. How long are you staying?" "A few days, perhaps." Taelosi mused. "We'll raise a cup later, but I must go now. Thank you, Kwint." "No worries, mate. Good luck with the gypsies." Taelosi led us to the south ward of the city, a trip that took a little over a half an hour on foot. There we scoured the broad marketplaces and crowded plazas until we found the gypsies that Kwint spoke of earlier. They were gathered in a large knot of gaily coloured wagons, tents and stalls, set up to display their handcrafted wares and to provide a venue for their exotic entertainment. Taelosi glided amidst the extravagant displays like a spectre, his cloak hood resting around his shoulders and his green eyes scanning the stalls. He ceased his aimless wandering only when his gaze settled on a particular gypsy, a man tooting a set of pipes to an unresponsive serpent in a square basket. As we approached, the man set aside his pipes. "'Tis the chill in the evening air. It makes my dear Lilith groggy." he explained with a gesture to the coiled asp at his feet. The gypsy was a young man, perhaps having seen only twenty-one or twenty-two winters. He had dark blue eyes and short black hair, moustache and goatee, lending him a mildly disreputable air. He was also short, like many gypsies, standing a hair over five feet and eight inches, but had the build of a wagon drover. "Well again, Aragost..." Taelosi began, but the young man cut him off. "Gwendolyn is at the markets right now, Taelosi, and I'll bet it is her you want to speak with." He picked up his snake while talking, paying us little heed. "Both of you, actually." Taelosi spoke, his voice casual and deliberate. "I have information to trade, concerning your missing family." The gypsies' attention was immediately fixed upon us. "Why didn't you say so?!" He idly started to wind the coils of his deadly pet around his arm. "I thought all your talk about 'liberating imprisoned souls' was just that -- all talk. But you actually came through, eh? Interesting." Taelosi lazily pointed towards an inn adjoining the plaza. "I will be staying at the Lion's Mane inn. When your sister returns, come speak to me again." The young gypsy nodded his agreement. When Taelosi turned to leave, he cleared his throat and held out his hand. "What for?!" I crowed angrily, "You haven't told us anything." "For entertaining you with my snake charming." A cavernous grin on his face, Aragost held up his deadly snake for us to see. Lilith sleepily tasted the air and paid us no heed. "How can you say 'no' to a face like this?" he asked. The Lion's Mane inn is a large building that is bordered on three sides by marketplaces and one side by the shops of craftsmen, a barrel maker and a fletcher. It is a tall building, like many of the structures in Qeynos, standing four stories high with a tavern built into its ground floor and basement. Together, my companions and I retired to the inn and rented lodgings for two days. After depositing our excess baggage in our new quarters, we were each left to our own devices for a time. Taelosi elected to loiter in the common room of the inn, to comb over his notes and wait for his contacts to show themselves. Soleim departed to speak with the Order of the Three, the magus guild in Qeynos, and promised to check in with Captain Tillin, the commander of the guard. With no tasks set before me, I decided to tour the south ward of the city. I found the city to be logical and easy to navigate and I only had to speak with the guardsmen once in order to find my way. All the merchants crowded along the most heavily trafficked streets, so there was little difficulty involved in browsing for goods. Unfortunately, I had very little money to spend. The city's bars and brothels were all tucked away in side streets, keeping them out of casual view but still easy to locate. Neither place really interested me at the moment, although the young, perfumed women idling at the windowsills were very diverting. Near the very heart of the south ward was the bank, guarded by northmen mercenaries clad in shining platemail. My cousins paid me no attention when I strolled past them. This was no surprise. I had seen a number of the sons and daughters of Halas in this city. We were common enough here that we didn't attract any undue attention from either the residents or one another. I wandered the city for several hours, watching the people and trying to feel the spirit of the city. After spending the afternoon in Qeynos, I decided that it wasn't such a bad place. Ordinary people walked the streets unafraid of thugs or lawmen. What elves, dwarves and non-humans I saw made no attempt to hide their faces. Similarly, holy men of many religions strolled the streets and made no attempt to hide the signs of their worship. Of course, I saw no trolls, ogres or servants of the darker religions abroad, but it was for the best. The creatures that would only prey on the weak were not welcome here. Here and there, there was also the signs of over-abundant wealth in the hands of pompous and unworthy men. Or the signs of greed and ego in the peacekeepers. But it all appeared to have little effect on the commoner of Qeynos. My aimless trek eventually led me to the dockside. I slipped under the pier and walked towards the water until the surf was lapping at my feet. I stood there, watching the ocean while the sun slowly sank towards the horizon. The ocean was fascinating and mysterious. Standing at its edge, I could not see the other side. The ocean was much like my own situation. Uncharted territory. What Taelosi had said about Erud's Crossing was all too fitting. Nothing mattered but what I decided to do next. I was overcome by the feeling that I was headed for danger. Soon I would have to decide how important this fool's chase was to me, for I'd have to risk my own life in order to proceed. The sky had darkened and the sun had become a mere sliver of deep orange over the ocean when I decided to head back to the inn. When I arrived at the Lion's Mane, I found my two companions seated in the common room with a pair of gypsies. One gypsy was the young, snake oil salesman, Aragost, the other I assumed was his sister, Gwendolyn. "Ahh, there he is." Soleim reassured the two gypsies as I arrived. "This young man is named Cymrick McMarrin. He is the third member of our party." Soleim inclined his head towards our two guests. "Cymrick. You have already met Aragost. This lovely lady is his sister, Gwendolyn." Soleim's introduction hardly prepared me for Gwendolyn's charm. When she stood to greet me, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes and a light touch from her hand was all it took to set my heart a flutter. "Well met, Cymrick. Soleim has told me much about you. He speaks highly of you, for an erudite." Ordinarily I would have had a smart reply prepared, but my brain was petrified and my thoughts had disintegrated like a caravan wreck. Gwen's hair was long and raven-black, held in place by a silver comb. Her eyes were light brown, striking a crisp contrast to her tresses and complementing her fair skin. She was garbed in a light blue silk gown with a dark blue shawl shrouding her shoulders and a belt of gold links draped around her ample hips. She was not the ideal of womanhood as my people reckon, Gwen was neither tall and strong nor rod thin. Short, full-figured and full of mysterious allure, she was quite simply more than a man of nineteen years could handle while retaining his dignity. "Hello..." was all I could manage. I sat down heavily at the table, silently wringing my hands together and trying hard not to sweat. "We were discussing the matter of Golan Gorebrew and his vicious slavers." Soleim offered by way of explanation. "As you know, we suspect that the orc was acting as an intermediary for our thief when he was disposing of his ill-gotten gains. Not surprisingly, Golan's band of slavers have been quite active in this area for some time. Early this spring, several people were seized from the Plains of Karana. Members of Aragost and Gwen's gypsy band are amongst the missing. While it seems unlikely that there is any connection between the thefts and the slave-taking, it is obvious that we all stand to profit by finding the slavers responsible." "That's right. We want our family back." Aragost spoke vehemently. "And I'm more than willing to mutilate a few orcs if it will help at all." "All we want is to determine whom the stolen items were sold to and to apprehend the thief responsible, if possible." Soleim added sagely. "Recovering the artifacts is a problem to be overcome at a later date." "Soleim is pursuing the Cup of Prexus. Taelosi is seeking to recover the Brazier of Ro." Gwendolyn purred, setting the facts of our hunt straight. "And young Cymrick is responsible for establishing that both were pilfered by the same rogue." She smiled at me in what she obviously felt was a soothing manner. "How did you do that, if I may ask?" "Um..." I stammered while massaging my neck. When my hand brushed the plague scars on my neck, I felt my heart go cold and the pleasant fog lifted from my mind. She's just being polite. Humouring the lanky boy with scars all the world can see. I'd never been bothered by my own imperfections before, but I was now. I didn't know how long I was silent but I could tell from the expressions on my friend's faces that it was long enough to be uncomfortable. "Why do you care? It doesn't matter. We're here. We know it is the same thief." I answered curtly. It isn't fair. I don't really know what is in her heart. My face was stony while the angels of my better nature wrestled with my unexpected angst. "Go on Soleim." I prompted, suddenly eager to get the attention off myself. After a brief moment of silence, Taelosi picked up the conversation. "Gwen tells us that Golan came as far as the Qeynos Hills and then disappeared. The gypsies suspect that he sold slaves to the Sabertooths and I agree. Certain associates of mine are watching Blackburrow and will let me know in a few days if Golan is amongst them." "So what is our next move then?" I asked sharply. "We wait until we have more information. If Golan has slaves inside Blackburrow, we rescue them and kidnap the slaver." Taelosi spoke without hesitation. "Gwendolyn is a skilled enchanter. She knows magic that can help us get in unnoticed and hopefully help spirit away a small group of people. I know my way around the Sabertooth lair and Aragost is skilled with locks." The elven ranger was regarding me curiously, plainly wondering what I would decide to do. I was also wondering the same thing. "For now we wait." he added. I let out a long breath and fastened my gaze on the ranger. "That is hideously dangerous." "It is." Taelosi drawled laconically. "Sometimes the only difference between heroism and folly is whether or not you succeed." I fell silent, wrestling with my inner demons. How much did I actually care about any of these people? I had many things I had to do with my life. Should I be risking death for a cause that wasn't truly my own? As always, all my doubts were just questions to which there were no easy answers. "I want to find out who the artifacts were sold to." I spoke up again, interrupting the conversation flowing between the gypsies and my companions. "I'll go with you to Blackburrow, if that is indeed where we are headed. Soleim. Taelosi. You have both helped me in the past. I owe you my support this time, at least." "Fair enough, Cymrick. I didn't expect that you would accompany us even this far, so your help is welcome." Taelosi spoke earnestly. "I suspect you have your own concerns." I stood up. "Call me when you get more information. I'll check in at the Lion's Mane at least once a day." Not sparing a glance or farewell for either gypsy, I left. Aragost stretched his arms over his head and then settled into his chair. Gesturing in the direction the young barbarian left, he addressed the silent table with a smug smile on his face, "Your friend... he's kinda a horse's ass, isn't he?" Soleim frowned slightly, a thoughtful look creasing his ordinarily unflappable visage. "As our most worthy elven friend said, Cymrick has his own worries. Oft times, his motivations are as fickle as they are indecipherable." "Right." The young gypsy just shrugged. "He thinks rather highly of himself though, offering us his help like that. He seems to think he's saving us from certain death." Taelosi wasn't smiling or scowling. Somehow, the absence of expression on the ranger's face was more frightening than any amount of anger. "Cymrick is moody, blunt and often crude." His voice was soft and thoughtful. "He is also courageous, honest and unswerving in his loyalty. His words and actions are identical. He puts his whole heart behind any task he commits himself to. Admirable traits regardless of his questionable social skills." Aragost held up his hands in a warding gesture. "Hold on, Taelosi! I didn't mean any harm." "He also has problems. Serious problems, I think. It makes him hard to predict sometimes." Taelosi was staring hard at Aragost. "All of this means I know how far to trust Cymrick. On the other hand, your sharp tongue gives me no clues about your usefulness in battle, Aragost." The young gypsy looked about ready to argue with the ranger, but decided against it. There was no doubt in him that Taelosi was by far the most stubborn man at the table, despite his typically cheery demeanour. "It was just talk Taelosi. I didn't mean anything by it." "I know." the ranger answered simply. "Still... I do apologise to you Gwendolyn. Cymrick was rather rude." Gwen, who had been cheerily watching the spat until this point, spoke up mildly, "Think nothing of it, Tae. Nothing he said was truly offensive and I've found that men are often fickle creatures." Beaming a smile at her younger brother, she added, "Especially young men." "Humpf. I take it back. You are all horse's asses!" Aragost fumed. "Interesting." Soleim interjected, plainly tiring of the puerile turn in the conversation. "It is interesting what you say about our young companion, Taelosi. 'Serious problems, I think.' I would assume from that, that you know things about Cymrick that I do not?" "Sorry Soleim. What I know about Cymrick, I probably shouldn't have learned in the first place. If you are curious, you'll have to talk to him." Taelosi stood and snatched up his scabbard. "Of course." the scholarly cleric replied reticently and then added in a lighter tone, "My curiosity often overrides my courtesy, I'm afraid." Though the cleric's tone was light, his eyes were full of suspicions. I felt the prickle of eyes on my neck and I knew the wolf was near. Her breath stirred the damp air and her paws stirred the barren earth. Looking around, I couldn't see her, but I could sense her presence. I was somewhere between the endless tundra and the tainted land I saw in my vision. The land was lifeless and writhed as if it was trying to twist itself inside out. The sky was pitch black, like the eye of the abyss, and the only light came from a narrow strip of blinding white on the horizon. Though there was no movement, I felt a great sense of transformation in the air. I know you are there... show yourself!! I cast my angry thoughts at the black sky. -- Poor little cub. You see yourself from another's eyes for but an instant and your whole world folds in and suffocates you. A wolf looks the same from within as she does from without. -- My lupine tormentor emerged from the bleakness. Her eyes glowed with a thirsty light and her foamy flanks heaved as her lungs drew mighty draughts of air. I could see a glimpse of her ebony jaws as she faced me. -- I watch as you twitch like a solitary bee away from its hive. Does the savage think he is a bug? Or a wolf? I wonder. -- I am a man! I scream in my mind, spitting my hate at the mocking wolf. -- You would do better as a wolf than as a man. The wolf knows no confusion. She always has a path to follow. -- My path?! My path is about banishing the confusion YOU have thrust upon me, you miserable bitch! YOU were there when my father perished. YOU were there when my fever broke as a child. YOU were there when the blizzard nearly claimed me as a youth. YOU have a hold over me and yet you let me fumble around for your amusement. -- Little of what men do amuses me, cub. If you wish to understand, you must hunt. That is the wolf's path. If you cannot understand on your own, you are no use to me. Or yourself. Find your prey. Hunt. In the hunt, all the questions that need answers will be answered. All answers that remain untold were irrelevant. -- I am so tired of your riddles, wolf. If you want me to hunt, I will hunt YOU! I'll stalk the tundra, catch you, and make you answer my questions. Her eyes bored into me and she froze in place. The bleak land had grown still. -- Very well, cub. I accept your challenge. Catch me and I will tell you your destiny. But I warn you, I cannot give you all the answers you seek and what I can tell you will not end your torment. -- I'll be the judge of that. And I will meet you again, wolf. -- Yes. You and I walk one path, cub. But while your steps along that path will end one day, mine are destined to continue for eternity. -- The Mother of Wolves turned and leapt away from me. Darkness fell, swallowing her and I was alone again. The wind shifted, blowing from the tortured land. I could hear cries of torment and I felt another presence. Mouldering lips whispered to me and the earth trembled with its words... my name. ** Cymrick! ** I awoke with a start, a scream of panic escaping my lips. My sheets were soaked with sweat and I couldn't remember where I was. I leapt out of bed, darted to my possessions and tore my morning star from its fastenings. I stood in the center of my room, tensed and ready for battle, naked as the day I was born. The feeling of menace, of danger, was overwhelming. As my heart slowly stopped hammering like a galloping racehorse, my memory flooded back. I was in my inn room at the Lion's Mane and there was no danger here that I could see. I shuffled stiffly to my bed and sat down, my hands trembling. Drek! Suddenly, I remembered my dream of the wolf. I wonder how I will find her? Or will she find me? Throwing my morning star back into the corner, I grabbed my kilt and laced it around my waist. It was pitch black outside. I looked at my bed like it were a coiled asp. No sleep for me tonight. I scratched my stomach. Perhaps I can raid the pantry? Heh. If only my nerves were made of the same stuff as my appetite. Taking my key, my money pouch and my dagger, I left my room and went downstairs. When I reached the base of the staircase, I could see the light of a lantern burning dimly in the common room and I could hear the sounds of a hushed conversation. "Hello?" I grumbled hoarsely. "Cymrick?" Taelosi's voice floated in hushed tones from the common room. Walking in, I saw the elf was seated at a table with a familiar figure. "Autumn?" I squinted at the half-elven druid, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. "What are you doing here?" "I've come to give Taelosi some information about your prey." Autumn's choice of words sent a chill up my spine. "You look like death." she said bluntly as I seated myself at their table. "Not yet." I swallowed hard, trying to get the dry feeling out of my mouth. Autumn had not moved since I entered the room. Only her eyes had followed me. She was acting as if I had interrupted something, even though Taelosi seemed perfectly unperturbed about my sudden appearance. "So you decided to involve yourself after all? Are you coming to Blackburrow with us?" "Yes. I am." the slender druid said firmly. Her hazel eyes left me for an instant and Taelosi shifted uncomfortably. "I see." Drumming my fingers on my bare chest, I looked them both over. "So Golan is in the lair of the Sabertooths?" "Yes." Autumn answered simply. "With some of his latest victims?" I asked needlessly. "Yes." Autumn answered tartly. "It appears that you and I are destined to invade Blackburrow once again, Cymrick." Taelosi chuckled wryly. "Good. This waiting is no longer to my liking." I stared at the lantern flame. I turned my gaze back to my companions. "I fear... that all the surprises... all the answers from here on are unpleasant ones." I stood and left the table. "I won't keep you from your conversation any longer. Goodnight." There was only silence behind me as I climbed the stairs towards my room. Autumn's eyes were wide as she pondered the half-mad shaman's words. Looking to Taelosi, she spoke to him in the language of elvenkind, "What do you suppose he meant? The answers to your hunt? Or his hunt?" Taelosi was as still as a fishing heron. "Both" he answered. "Both?" Autumn queried. "Yes, both. His goal and my goal are both small parts of the same beast. How I do not yet know." Taelosi answered cryptically. "He knows much about what I do but is too ignorant to be a spy. Two days ago, I found myself defending him, yet I hardly know him. Somehow I understand his motives, without knowing what they are. I think perhaps I was being guided by the hand of Tunare when I encountered him in the Stonelands. I have spent far too many years in service of The Great Mother to dismiss chance meetings and unexpected alliances as mere coincidence." "What will you do?" Autumn asked, clasping her hands on the table and bouncing one knee in frustration. "Play out this gambit. We walk the same path, for a time. There is more here I must understand before I can decide what to do about the young shaman." he shrugged eloquently. "It is dangerous being around him. He is dangerous. Even if he doesn't mean to be." Autumn cautioned gravely. "There are forces at work here, perhaps malign forces. I can't put a name to them, but I know they are there." "So. You are going with me to Blackburrow?" Taelosi changed the subject abruptly. The half-elven druid gave a sudden start, as Taelosi's obvious protest finally cropped up. "Yes. I am." Autumn was firm and unyielding, determined not to be left behind. "Very well." the ranger agreed mildly. "You should retire then. We have much to do tomorrow." "Um... alright." As confusing as Taelosi's sudden acquiescence was, she couldn't hold back a pleased smile. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | ||
|
directed via e-mail to the web master. All original content is ©2000 The Children of Tunare. All rights reserved. All copy righted material mentioned is © of their respective owners. No part of this site may be reproduced without permission. | ||