Chapter 4 Part 4

When the first of the two suns arose, its cresting light found Samson and Seymore sitting near the bow of the ship. Seymore had insisted on getting out into the air in spite of Avery's objections. He and Samson were watching the sunrise and talking quietly.

"That is about the size of it," Samson said as he completed an account of their happenings since the ambush. "The Oracle said that if we did not hurry, you would not live to make it home. The Oracle told us that three of us who were there would die here. And, to make matters worse, Avery has picked up an enchanted blade, which keeps secrets from us all."

"Avery's no threat, but I fear that much of what the Oracle said is true," Seymore said at length. "I find that I can’t stand for more than a few minutes without tiring, and I get very sleepy after only a few hours of activity." He pulled up his robe tightly around him.

"I’m cold and weak. I can’t even lift my war hammer without using two hands and the effort leaves me gasping for breath." He looked back at his friend. The bags under his eyes and the matted hair betrayed his true condition. "That cleric's work was only a short reprieve."

"I’m sorry, my friend," Samson said as he put a hand on the other's shoulder. "Such was my joy at seeing you conscious that I failed to see that you were not completely well." Seymore grimaced and Samson saw the expression. "Is there much pain?"

"Yes, but that at least tells me that I’m alive."

"Avery or Armegon could relieve it for you."

"No," Seymore waved the suggestion off. "Let ‘em be. They have enough to worry about as it is."

At about that time, Skimmer skipped merrily on deck and began setting the rigging to prepare for sailing. Samson stood and adjusted his coat. "Why don't we get you go back below old friend," he said to Seymore, "then, I’ll help this youngster prepare for the voyage." Seymore nodded and shuffled down the steps with the aid of Samson to the lower compartments.

Within an hour after sunrise, the Westward Cutter was tacking its way out of the harbor and onto the open ice. Seymore had come on deck out of curiosity to see the ice boat in action, but had soon grown weary and returned below. Only Norwind, Keeneye and Samson remained on deck to help the captain and Skimmer with the ship.

The old dwarf had estimated the return trip to be about four days due to the head winds they were going to travel against. After an hour of tacking and rigging, the captain turned the ship southward and moved perpendicular to the wind. As the gigantic airfoil caught the breeze and the ship began to pick up speed, the starboard runner came up off the ice causing the deck to tilt toward port. Under Skimmer's direction, the deck hands moved some sandbags to the starboard side and the ship slowly righted itself.

"No keel for counter balance, so you shift the weights to change the center of gravity," Norwind observed approvingly.

"You've been hanging around Ultrecht and Armegon too much," Keeneye observed disapprovingly.

Chapter 4 Part 3

The trip back to the port city was uneventful, although Keeneye was certain he had seen shadows on several occasions following at discrete distances. Nothing became of it despite repeated attempts to circle back and see what was amiss.

They arrived in town near first sunset and went directly to where the Westward Cutter was moored. Skimmer was glad to see them and made repeated inquiries as to their adventures and begged to be told of the Oracle. Heineken was more businesslike and assure the lad that there would be time enough for stories enroute to the Twin Cities.

Instead, he had some good news to tell his passengers. At great expense, he had hired a cleric to heal Seymore and the human was at the moment asleep in the cabin as per the cleric's instructions.

"How is it that a priest can do what you couldn’t?" Skimmer asked Avery. "Your friends told me that you were one of the best healers in your world."

"My healing power is my own," Avery replied. "The priests of your world call upon powerful beings to do the healing for them."

"Enough with the questions now, Skimmer," Heineken cuffed the lad with a paw. "Get to sleep. Tomorrow we sail."

"Why not now?" Ultrecht asked impatiently.

"Because the harbor patrol won't give us clearance at night. Besides, it is very dangerous to be on the ice this near the Kingdom at night. Kingdom patrol boats are somewhat less law abiding at night and are inclined towards piracy."

"We can't out run them?"

"Not all of them. Some of their boats use enchanted runners that are near frictionless." Heineken sighed, "No, we wait until dawn."

Skimmer reluctantly bade a farewell to the party and headed below. Avery followed, stating he wanted to check on Seymore. The others also decided to retire, all that is except for Norwind and Keeneye.

After the others were gone, the two elves and dwarf stood looking at the city's street torches. "I wish I could buy you two a drink," the old dwarf said at last, "but those idiots would just as soon piss in our ale as in their own outhouse."

"Thank you captain," Keeneye said, "the gesture is appreciated."

"My pleasure boys," Heineken replied. "You people are all right by me."

"Captain," Norwind stated, "I notice that you and Skimmer get along very well. Is that normal for an elf and a dwarf?"

Heineken blinked, "What?"

"Don't take this wrong sir," Keeneye said. "It is just back home, elves and dwarves don't really trust each other that much."

"Well, boys," Heineken laughed, "here, there are no two closer races. The elves and dwarves are the two closest allies I know."

"That’s interesting to know."

"Well, it wasn't always like that, but legend has it that many centuries ago there was once a half elf, half dwarf wizard who combined the magic of his mother's people with the skill of his father's people to create a wondrous object of peace and power. But to prevent the Godking from getting it, he fled to another world. That is a strange tale. And since that day, or so I'm told, no fertile union of the two races has occurred."

"I'm curious, captain," Norwind said. "Tell me more about your world's history."

Chapter 4 Part 2

Morteous Blackheart did not even wait to be announced. He walked into his brother's private chambers and closed the door behind him.

Serpent Blackheart was sitting at his desk with several high officials and the High Priest of Set in attendance when his brother barged into his room. He was not angry, though annoyance was possible, for he was aware of the sudden cancellation of the attack on the enemy at his brother's request. He suspected something had happened of great importance for his brother to be acting in this manner.

Morteous looked at Serpent then at the officials. Seeing this, Serpent dismissed his cabinet of advisors so that he and Morteous could converse in private. "Well," he said when they were alone.

"We have a problem," Morteous said as he tried to catch his breath for he had been running through the halls of the palace since he materialized near the main entrance.

"What trouble could get a master warlock in such a flustered mood," Serpent asked as he leaned back in his seat.

"The Dawn of Law has returned," he replied choking on his own words. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"Liberator!" Serpent Blackheart spat the name like a curse. "How?"

"I don't know but that sword will seriously hinder our efforts. Its very existence is counter to our cause."

"Damn, of all times for that cursed sword to show up." Serpent stood and paced about his room for a moment then stopped in front of the altar. "What exactly did you see," he asked as he stared at the idol of the dark snake god.

"I tracked the enemy to the last place they had used magic and found myself before the gate of the Oracle. I knew they were inside, but that place is shielded from me by the Dragon's power. I settled down to wait and see if any of them would return. About noon of the next day, a lone halfelf appeared before the entrance. It was he that held the sword. I decided against immediate attack because I was not certain of my abilities against a talisman of such power. So I canceled the ambush and waited to see how many of them remain. There are only seven left."

Serpent stood quietly for a moment. "Dare we let the Dukes of Hell learn of this? They might back out of the alliance."

He stared off into space as he thought upon his brother's story. "We must destroy them now," he insisted. "Unfortunately, a direct confrontation on the scale needed to overcome their rapidly increasing power in addition to that damned weapon would attract too much attention."

"Have we determined their destination yet?" Morteous asked.

"They seek the Well of Time, Uncle, as we suspected" Miguel said as he entered the room.

"Do you make a habit of eavesdropping?" Morteous asked the young priest.

"Hardly," the young noble answered. "I only heard the last bit."

"The Well of Time," Serpent repeated slowly.

"Set has assured me that is their destination," the youth acknowledged.

"Did the dark god tell you where the place is?"

"Yes," Miguel announced. "My god has revealed much to me this evening. The Well of Time lies in the center of the Isle of Time in the Sea of Strata. The magic required to reach that place requires a rare component because that valley is shielded against normal teleportation and scrything, but there is a gateway in the mountains near Gly-ou-vogue that can be used without magic."

"Good," Serpent said as he returned to his desk. "Listen to my plan." The trio gathered around as the tyrant unrolled a map of the northern world.

"The only ice boat port not under my control, which is on the same side of the world as their destination is the Twin Cities. I will send my new servant to rejoin his brethren there. I will also dispatch a company of specters and wraiths to pace their progress. Tyson will have orders to get individuals to venture away from the group on occasion. The undead can deal with those who do." Serpent looked at his brother. "Morteous," he said, "I want you to watch and determine if the wielder of that sword can use it. If he can, we will wait until he is at a disadvantage then we will attack him en masse."

Miguel looked confused. "What sword are we talking about?"

"Liberator," his uncle informed him.

"That is not good, father."

"I am not afraid of that sword," Serpent said angrily. "Remember, no weapon forged by man or god can defeat Reaper."

"Do not be foolish Father," the younger man advised--words that would surely have meant the death of any other man. "The Sword of Justice was forged by the Creator Himself to be wielded by the brethren of the Godking. It is at the top of the Sword Hierarchy and yields only to the Sword of Power, itself." Miguel gripped the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Liberator defies Reaper's prophesy. You can no longer rely on it for protection."

"What if we had Devastator?" Morteous wondered.

"The Sword of Chaos could only achieve a draw at best," Miguel answered. "And Devastator has not been seen in over a thousand years." He had studied sword lore in his rise through the priesthood when his father had come into possession of Reaper. The most powerful of all swords was the Sword of Power, Excalibur. It was spoken of by the gods, but never seen by mortal man, at least not in this world. Beneath Excalibur was Liberator and Devastator. Beneath them was the four swords of virtue and vice, of which Reaper was one. The others were Vanguard, Blight and Defender, each possessing unique powers and equal to Reaper if in skilled hands. And beneath them were eight lesser powered swords, beneath which were sixteen even weaker swords and so on. Each sword had its own history and legends. But only Reaper's prophesy made such bold promises of invincibility.

Serpent Blackheart tightened his hand on the grip of his sword. What his son had told him was true and he knew it. Finally he slammed his fist down on the desk in frustration. "Events are turning against us," he declared, "and that is all the more reason to destroy these people now!"

Chapter 4 Part 1

...Into the Fire

"Welcome back." Everyone turned to find Avery eating a spit of roasted meat.

"Just where have you been?" Armegon asked as he settled on a nearby outcropping of rock. He and the others sat around the fire where Avery had cooked enough meat to feed a small army. They sampled his cooking while he spoke of the Oracle's test.

"Well, let's see this enchanted weapon," Ultrecht said leaning closer for a better view.

Avery unfastened his green cloak and drew the long sword from its scabbard on his back. Instantly, he felt the weapon's own consciousness merge with his own, but it made no attempts to lure him into battle.

"I thought enchanted swords glowed," Norwind said quizzically.

"Most do," Samson informed him. "At least the common ones do. Some, like Libra, don't. Usually those that don't are very unusual." To illustrate, he drew forth his own sword. The two enchanted weapons showed no sign of magic.

"That’s an indifferent reaction," Samson informed them. "These swords do not oppose each other's purpose. If they did, we’d see sparks and they would become very hot." He sheathed Libra.

"On the other hand," Samson went on to say, "if they were co-aligned, that is to say they served the same cause, we would hear a harmonic ringing when they were both drawn."

"Impressive," was all Ultrecht would or could say.

Marlena gave Avery a friendly hug. "I think you did the right thing."

"Has anything else happened since you got out?" Armegon wanted to know.

"Yes," Avery answered. "Don't look for him now, but we have a visitor near enough to be heard and smelled but not seen." Avery resheathed his weapon. This time it did not put up a fight. "He has been watching me since I got out. He seems to be quite content to keep his distance so I left him alone."

"Well, we can't stay to play games," Samson advised, "our time is running short."

"Samson's right," Ultrecht agreed. "We can talk more on the trail. Right now we have to get moving."

“I don’t think that we’re in so much of a hurry that this hearty feast should have to go to waste,” Norwind interjected. He took a cutting of meat and tasted it critically. “It’s definitely one of his better dishes.”

“Yeah?” Armegon asked suspiciously. “I thought he cooked poor meals as a matter of principle; you know, rangers being tough and hearty and all?”

“Well if we have to stop to eat,” Samson yielded, “let’s do so quickly, and then we can move on.”

After a short, but tasty meal, supplies were quickly inventoried and distributed. The horses had returned several hours earlier and Avery had detained them By the time they were packed and moving again, Avery had been filled in on the Oracle's message.

He couldn’t help but think about what Scarlet had said to him through the healing link. The words came back to him in a rush: I can see those who are to return, and you are not among them. That and the words given to him by the Maiden of the Morning disturbed him greatly, but he kept them to himself.

As they left the door of the Oracle and began their march out of the canyon, Keeneye was dispatched at Samson's suggestion to deal with their hidden guest.

"Does anyone understand the Oracle's message?" Avery asked.

"Not at the moment," Armegon said as he rode. "As far as we can guess, there has been one guaranteed death."

"Scarlet," Samson said pulling his horse along side Avery. It was clear to everyone that the animosity between the two had declined. It may have been that their sharing of a sacred trust in the possession of enchanted swords had created a bond between them, or perhaps it was simply that Samson had experienced some revelation in his encounter with the Oracle.

"Exactly," Armegon agreed. "One who will perish if we do not hurry."

"That’d be Seymore," Samson surmised.

"One who’ll be lost to treachery."

Samson pursed his lips. "That could be Tyson betrayed by Axlea," he said. "But the Oracle spoke in the future tense, so perhaps Tyson is yet still alive."

"If so he may catch up with us, and someone else could be the victim of the treachery," Ultrecht put in.

"And three more will not return home," Marlena reminded them.

"But that doesn’t mean death," Samson pointed out.

"It doesn't deny it either." Armegon was not trying to sound morbid, but that is how it came out.

"It could mean that some of us get captured or lost," Marlena suggested.

"I guess we’ll just find out when we find out," Ultrecht said.

"Suits me fine," Norwind said from the rear. "I don't really care to know the future.

"Please," Marlena begged, "not another ignorance-is-bliss lecture."

Keeneye returned about an hour later as they exited the canyon and reported that the spy was gone. "It was as if he disappeared into thin air." Keeneye reported on how he had followed the spy's trail to a point where the tracks suddenly vanished. "I think our audience was a mage of some kind."

"Well, we can't wait for him to return and I’m not sure that I want to anyway," Samson remarked.

"Right," Armegon added, "since there are no visible landmarks to teleport to and we weren't in the port town long enough to get a proper fix mentally, we’ll have to travel as quickly as we can by foot or scrythe another teleportation fix."

"That is probably how Avery's friend in the rocks located us in the first place," Ultrecht objected. "Let's not do that again unless we absolutely have to."

"Perhaps we can purchase a teleportation in the Twin Cities," Marlena offered as she munched on a piece of dried vegetation.

"I hope so," Norwind groaned. "I sure don't relish the thought of trekking through that jungle again." He smiled as Marlena gave him an amused but menacing look.

"Then lettuce be on our way," Armegon suggested innocently.

"Oooohhh," Keeneye grimaced in mock pain. "That was bad."

"All right Armegon," Marlena warned as she continued to consume her carrot. "That will be enough, thank you."

"Yeah, you uncouth sorcerer," Ultrecht chastised his friend. "If you keep cracking jokes upon her like that she's liable to beet you with that root she is stuffing into her mouth. Corny vegetable puns won't a-pease her if you keep..." He was interrupted when a carrot hit him in the back of his head.