It started as a low vibration in the ground, which Norwind was the first to detect through his bare feet. He barely had time to alert the others when the vibration changed to a low rumble that could be heard by all.
Avery wasted no time. He directed everyone up to an accessible ledge some fifty feet above them. It was not what he wanted, but he could no longer be picky.
Keeneye, dragging a reluctant horse along behind him, had barely ascended into the climb when a fifteen foot wall of water appeared ahead and bore down on him at what he considered an unhealthy speed. He turned back to pull frantically at the horse, but found that the animal was already way ahead of him in climbing the rock. Horses, it seemed, were sometimes more intelligent than they were given credit.
The ledge was more of a challenge than it had previously appeared. The path was narrow and footing was chancy, but slow and careful progress ensured that no one fell into the rushing torrent below.
Near the cliff face, there was a dark opening leading into the mountainside an unknown distance. Keeneye found the others attempting to keep out of the sudden downpour of rain just inside the mountain's opening.
"I’m drenched," came the complaint from the lady of the group. "Let's build a fire."
"We don’t have any wood," said Ultrecht. "Camping in a cavern was not what we had expected."
"This is no cavern," Armegon observed. "The walls are too regular and square. It is my guess that we are in an old mine."
"Well, perhaps there are some old timbers further back. Why don't we go get some?" Tyson asked.
"Fine," Armegon agreed. "We don't need much. Would you like help?"
"Not really," Tyson waved casually. "But I could use some company to talk to." He turned to Seymore who was shivering quietly. "Come on, Seymore," he coaxed, "the walking will help keep you warm. Besides, you’re the only one who spent enough time traveling with Scarlet to know some of those dwarven underground navigational tricks."
"Don't stray off the main tunnel," Keeneye warned as he caught a piece of jerky meat Norwind tossed to him.
"Be careful," Marlena offered as Tyson pulled a glowing sphere from a pouch and headed off into the tunnel, illuminating the way with the small light ball. She watched as they moved further and further away until the light turned a corner. She could not put her finger on it, but she could feel something was wrong.
"Marlena," Norwind said while sitting next to the woman who had appropriated more than her fair share of blankets. "Could you rid us of this storm without drawing attention?"
Marlena closed her eyes and shook her head. "No," she said, "weather control is a powerful type of magic."
Keeneye looked back at the storm. It was raining heavily. Ultrecht was sharing a snack with Armegon and Samson while Norwind and Avery were taking advantage of the rain to wash the animals out on the ledge.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Chapter 4 Part 10
Morteous Blackheart stood alone atop a peak of Cinder Ridge. Their foes were east of him coming through the pass. He had spent ten hours conjuring the storm which he now released towards them. He had prevented it from raining itself out until the last moment.
Finally, all restraint was removed and it poured rain with a vengeance. If he was lucky, his flood would kill them all or at least a few of them. At worst, it would force them to take some kind of shelter and that would make them vulnerable to other attacks.
Ideally, they would seek refuge within one of the abandoned mines that honeycombed the northern Orkons. He had arranged to have a company of wights turned loose in the dark interior of the mountains.
Morteous sounded an evil laugh as the rain poured on the rock below and flowed downhill with increasing savageness. His mount snorted nearby and flapped its leathery wings in the rising wind. The warlock responded by leaping astride the beast and urged it skyward. Once aloft, he turned eastward. He wanted to watch what happened. He wanted to witness the fruits of his labors.
Finally, all restraint was removed and it poured rain with a vengeance. If he was lucky, his flood would kill them all or at least a few of them. At worst, it would force them to take some kind of shelter and that would make them vulnerable to other attacks.
Ideally, they would seek refuge within one of the abandoned mines that honeycombed the northern Orkons. He had arranged to have a company of wights turned loose in the dark interior of the mountains.
Morteous sounded an evil laugh as the rain poured on the rock below and flowed downhill with increasing savageness. His mount snorted nearby and flapped its leathery wings in the rising wind. The warlock responded by leaping astride the beast and urged it skyward. Once aloft, he turned eastward. He wanted to watch what happened. He wanted to witness the fruits of his labors.
Chapter 4 Part 9
Samson was pulling watch duty. They had marched for three days before reaching the foothills of the Orkon Mountain range. Because Regalus' maps had been true to life, Avery had led them quickly through the forest along a seldom used path. Regalus had told them that since the mines had run out of silver, few cared to use the pass through the mountains any more.
Samson reflected as he was pulling the last watch before dawn. The coming day would see them moving into the mountains. So far, travel had been quite easy for the most part with the only exception being that of Norwind waking up to find a skunk in his bedroll one morning. He had been forced to ride downwind for a day and a half.
Samson watched Marlena sleep. She had taken to wearing her robe very loosely to hide her pregnancy. He was certain that she had told some of the others; one or both of the healers assuredly. He suspected that everyone else had some idea about the upcoming event, but none were speaking out on the subject. She had assured him in private that it was just an unfortunate, but not unheard of, occurrence that happens to female druids on rare occasions. She had told him that usually the infant was stillborn or badly malformed due to a forced genetic combination that otherwise would not be possible.
Samson stirred the fire and chewed on a piece of smoked rabbit meat. He watched as the first of the two suns rose in the east. The others would be rising soon so he put a pot of water on the fire and took a stroll around the perimeter of the camp to check for unwanted wildlife.
When Samson returned to the campfire, he found Armegon and Ultrecht talking quietly. Armegon had prepared some gruel and they offered some in greeting as he approached. He returned the greeting and ate some of the hot food, then packed his supplies.
Within an hour, the motley crew was back on the trail moving upward into the mountain pass. The path was narrow with rocky ground, but easily visible due to countless ore shipments.
By sunset, they were camped beneath an overhang. The sky had become quite cloudy and threatened to rain. There was very little wood for fuel, so they spent the night bundled up around a small fire. A few hours later, a drizzle began and made comfort a thing unknown. They made little conversation. Most of them simply wanted to go to sleep and pass the dreary night as quickly as possible.
The next morning, everyone awoke to a sunless sky and a weary day. They barely took time to warm up by what pitiful fire they could make before they were back on the trail. No one was cheerful and no one felt like travel, but they all pressed onward as they had done many times before.
As they marched along, Keeneye walked near the rear of the party. He, like most of the others, had dismounted and was leading his mount to prevent tiring it out as best he could while at the same time it helped him to keep warm. He was looking at the rock surface they were walking on, which showed very few traces of their passage. Although somewhat desirable that they should pass unseen, it bothered him. He noticed the deep groves in the rock and the rounded edges of the outcroppings. He realized that this was due to high energy erosion. That meant flash floods! Keeneye gave his mount's reigns to Tyson and made his way up front. There he found Avery.
"Have you noticed the erosion marks in the rock?" he asked. Avery looked at him puzzled then down at the rock trail. "We are in a mountain pass," Keeneye prompted, "between two sharply sloping ridges. There is no loose soil under our feet, and the only markings of any significance is the evidence of..."
"Flash floods," Avery stammered. "And in this weather . . ." It was obvious to Keeneye that the ranger had missed the clues. But true to form, Avery immediately picked up the ball. "We need to get to shelter. Watch for a cavern or recess above us with easy access."
"We may not get the luxury of easy access if this weather worsens."
"Hey, what is the hold up?!" Samson's voice sounded irritated as he approached the rest of the company.
"We need to find some kind of shelter as soon as we can," Keeneye said. "This trail shows evidence of flash flooding."
"Well, get on with it then," Samson retorted.
Avery turned to continue on when Keeneye caught his shoulder.
"You okay?"
Avery smiled. "Sorry I was not paying attention. Yes, I'll be okay."
Keeneye was returning to the rear when a drop of water hit him on the head. He looked up and prayed that the rains did not start until they found shelter.
Samson reflected as he was pulling the last watch before dawn. The coming day would see them moving into the mountains. So far, travel had been quite easy for the most part with the only exception being that of Norwind waking up to find a skunk in his bedroll one morning. He had been forced to ride downwind for a day and a half.
Samson watched Marlena sleep. She had taken to wearing her robe very loosely to hide her pregnancy. He was certain that she had told some of the others; one or both of the healers assuredly. He suspected that everyone else had some idea about the upcoming event, but none were speaking out on the subject. She had assured him in private that it was just an unfortunate, but not unheard of, occurrence that happens to female druids on rare occasions. She had told him that usually the infant was stillborn or badly malformed due to a forced genetic combination that otherwise would not be possible.
Samson stirred the fire and chewed on a piece of smoked rabbit meat. He watched as the first of the two suns rose in the east. The others would be rising soon so he put a pot of water on the fire and took a stroll around the perimeter of the camp to check for unwanted wildlife.
When Samson returned to the campfire, he found Armegon and Ultrecht talking quietly. Armegon had prepared some gruel and they offered some in greeting as he approached. He returned the greeting and ate some of the hot food, then packed his supplies.
Within an hour, the motley crew was back on the trail moving upward into the mountain pass. The path was narrow with rocky ground, but easily visible due to countless ore shipments.
By sunset, they were camped beneath an overhang. The sky had become quite cloudy and threatened to rain. There was very little wood for fuel, so they spent the night bundled up around a small fire. A few hours later, a drizzle began and made comfort a thing unknown. They made little conversation. Most of them simply wanted to go to sleep and pass the dreary night as quickly as possible.
The next morning, everyone awoke to a sunless sky and a weary day. They barely took time to warm up by what pitiful fire they could make before they were back on the trail. No one was cheerful and no one felt like travel, but they all pressed onward as they had done many times before.
As they marched along, Keeneye walked near the rear of the party. He, like most of the others, had dismounted and was leading his mount to prevent tiring it out as best he could while at the same time it helped him to keep warm. He was looking at the rock surface they were walking on, which showed very few traces of their passage. Although somewhat desirable that they should pass unseen, it bothered him. He noticed the deep groves in the rock and the rounded edges of the outcroppings. He realized that this was due to high energy erosion. That meant flash floods! Keeneye gave his mount's reigns to Tyson and made his way up front. There he found Avery.
"Have you noticed the erosion marks in the rock?" he asked. Avery looked at him puzzled then down at the rock trail. "We are in a mountain pass," Keeneye prompted, "between two sharply sloping ridges. There is no loose soil under our feet, and the only markings of any significance is the evidence of..."
"Flash floods," Avery stammered. "And in this weather . . ." It was obvious to Keeneye that the ranger had missed the clues. But true to form, Avery immediately picked up the ball. "We need to get to shelter. Watch for a cavern or recess above us with easy access."
"We may not get the luxury of easy access if this weather worsens."
"Hey, what is the hold up?!" Samson's voice sounded irritated as he approached the rest of the company.
"We need to find some kind of shelter as soon as we can," Keeneye said. "This trail shows evidence of flash flooding."
"Well, get on with it then," Samson retorted.
Avery turned to continue on when Keeneye caught his shoulder.
"You okay?"
Avery smiled. "Sorry I was not paying attention. Yes, I'll be okay."
Keeneye was returning to the rear when a drop of water hit him on the head. He looked up and prayed that the rains did not start until they found shelter.
Chapter 4 Part 8
Unlike the northern coastline of Freon where he had spent the previous week, Hell was a fabled place of horror to mortals and immortals alike. Yet, as Miguel looked out over the landscape of Nessus, the very vilest of the nine hells, he found the winds of flame and the coexisting lakes of frozen air quite beautiful and somewhat relaxing, even though exposure to such extremes would kill him instantly. As a guest ambassador of House Blackheart, he was standing in the home palace of Asmodeous. He was there to attend the congressional meeting of the Dukes of Hell as an avid onlooker. The talks in Freon had been shaky. There were many arguments between House Blackheart and House Cadaver, the ruling house of Freon, remaining to be resolved.
During the first conference, Asmodeous had informed the other Dukes of the alliance to House Blackheart of the mortal realm. There had been reservations by some, chiefly the Duchess of Avernus, who had chosen to appear as a humanoid instead of her natural multi-headed dragon form. Asmodeous eventually convinced the other eight that the alliance was the best way for the nine realms of Hell to further their causes.
Miguel was no fool. The devils could be trusted to keep their word--that was their nature, but there was no doubt they were in this for themselves. They cared little for his father and much less for himself. Agreements with devils had to be carefully worded. The devils only followed the spirit of a contract as long as it suited them. Then, they would follow the wording in whatever way they could twist its meaning to their causes.
Darwina entered his chamber and walked over to where he stood. He felt her diabolical presence and looked into her eyes. There was only lust there.
"What is your desire, lover?" she asked running her hands across his body in a seductive way. When this produced no reaction, she backed away slowly. "Perhaps, you would rather watch me taking pleasure with another tonight," she said slyly. "You have often enjoyed watching me perform with animals." She conjured up a minor devil of low caste and molded its shape to that of a horse. "Or would you prefer to try something else." The horse melted and reformed into a human male. Still there was no reaction.
Finally, Darwina dismissed the minor devil and stood beside Miguel and stared out the window. "You are the most perverted human being I have run across, and here I offer you activities that even one of my kind might find repulsive, and you show no interest. What is wrong?"
"I do not like the thought of allying ourselves with Freon," he said at last.
"We need their strength," she stated.
"They can not be trusted at all. They hate us only slightly less than the gods of good. I can't shake the feeling that when our backs are turned they are going to stab us."
"Then we do not turn our backs to them."
"We will have little choice. We can not fight the gods of good and watch the demons of the Abyss as well."
"What have demons to do with this?" Darwina's voice turned to ice as she spoke.
"They are patrons of that city. Orcus, Demogorgon, Pazuzu, Leraje and all the others are worshiped there."
The she-devil hissed at the mention of those hated names. "My master would likely have your tongue eaten out by maggots if he had heard those names spoken aloud here."
"Forgive me," Miguel said sarcastically. "I had forgotten how much demons and devils hated each other."
"Words will not earn you forgiveness," she said disrobing. "Only actions will remove your blasphemy from my memory." Miguel watched her strip her clothes off one by one, and this time her efforts produced the desired result.
During the first conference, Asmodeous had informed the other Dukes of the alliance to House Blackheart of the mortal realm. There had been reservations by some, chiefly the Duchess of Avernus, who had chosen to appear as a humanoid instead of her natural multi-headed dragon form. Asmodeous eventually convinced the other eight that the alliance was the best way for the nine realms of Hell to further their causes.
Miguel was no fool. The devils could be trusted to keep their word--that was their nature, but there was no doubt they were in this for themselves. They cared little for his father and much less for himself. Agreements with devils had to be carefully worded. The devils only followed the spirit of a contract as long as it suited them. Then, they would follow the wording in whatever way they could twist its meaning to their causes.
Darwina entered his chamber and walked over to where he stood. He felt her diabolical presence and looked into her eyes. There was only lust there.
"What is your desire, lover?" she asked running her hands across his body in a seductive way. When this produced no reaction, she backed away slowly. "Perhaps, you would rather watch me taking pleasure with another tonight," she said slyly. "You have often enjoyed watching me perform with animals." She conjured up a minor devil of low caste and molded its shape to that of a horse. "Or would you prefer to try something else." The horse melted and reformed into a human male. Still there was no reaction.
Finally, Darwina dismissed the minor devil and stood beside Miguel and stared out the window. "You are the most perverted human being I have run across, and here I offer you activities that even one of my kind might find repulsive, and you show no interest. What is wrong?"
"I do not like the thought of allying ourselves with Freon," he said at last.
"We need their strength," she stated.
"They can not be trusted at all. They hate us only slightly less than the gods of good. I can't shake the feeling that when our backs are turned they are going to stab us."
"Then we do not turn our backs to them."
"We will have little choice. We can not fight the gods of good and watch the demons of the Abyss as well."
"What have demons to do with this?" Darwina's voice turned to ice as she spoke.
"They are patrons of that city. Orcus, Demogorgon, Pazuzu, Leraje and all the others are worshiped there."
The she-devil hissed at the mention of those hated names. "My master would likely have your tongue eaten out by maggots if he had heard those names spoken aloud here."
"Forgive me," Miguel said sarcastically. "I had forgotten how much demons and devils hated each other."
"Words will not earn you forgiveness," she said disrobing. "Only actions will remove your blasphemy from my memory." Miguel watched her strip her clothes off one by one, and this time her efforts produced the desired result.
Chapter 4 Part 7
When Armegon awoke the next morning, he quietly dressed and went to the tavern for breakfast. When he opened the tavern door, he received an unexpected surprise.
"Good morning," said the familiar figure sitting at a table near the stairs.
"Tyson!" Armegon made no effort to hide his surprise. "Where did you come from?"
"I came from the woods a little south of here," he replied. "During that little skirmish with those bandits, I was separated and forced to run for my life. It seems our so-called guide set us up."
"Yes," Armegon murmured thoughtfully. "If I ever get my hands on Axlea again, I will turn him into something unpleasant." Armegon signaled for the waitress, requested the house's breakfast special and took a seat. "So, what happened to you after the attack?"
Tyson leaned back across from Armegon. "Well, during the ambush, I had to strip down so the dogs tracking us would be thrown off the trail. Then, I ran through the woods for about ten minutes before I stumbled upon a swift stream. I took a short swim southward, which put more distance between me and them. I figured that was the one direction they’d be least likely to check for me. By the time I made my way back to camp, everyone was gone."
Armegon's food had arrived and he bade Tyson to continue his tale while he ate.
"Well, when I finally got here, I checked around and discovered which ship you had chartered. I also learned this was the only major port that ice boats used in this part of the world. I took a chance that you would return here."
"Gambling as always, eh, O master of hot air?" Samson approached the table and took a seat across from Armegon. He was followed by Keeneye and Marlena. She indicated that the others would be joining them shortly.
"Well, would you look at this," Keeneye said as he pulled up a chair. "Someone has thrown away a perfectly good mage."
"We missed you, dear friend," Marlena said giving the wayward Tyson a friendly hug.
For the rest of the morning, Tyson retold the story of his solo trek through the woods to escape his pursuers. In turn, he was interested in how his companions had fared and the quest's progress.
Much time was dedicated to the reunion. The innkeeper, recognizing an opportunity, masterfully urged the celebration into full swing with a round for the house. In fact, it was well into the evening before the festivities died out. Ultrecht was somewhat miffed about the wasting of a day, but Marlena had been quick to point out that to travel with half a party of intoxicated warriors would not be wise and the occasion of finding Tyson alive was worth taking a moment of celebration.
Later that evening, Marlena found that she was perplexed. Something was not quite right and she could not put her finger on it. She was as happy as anyone to see Tyson again, but his unexpected appearance was just a little too convenient. The thought brought back the Oracle's words like a distant echo: "lost to treachery". She discreetly expressed her concern to Seymore when she checked in on him later that evening. He had expended a lot of strength to join in on the celebration, in spite of Avery's attempts to keep him in bed.
"I don't think Tyson is being followed," he said, "and I am certain he is not involved in any treachery; not after what we have all been through together. We need each other to lean on. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other. Secrets reap distrust and trust is the one thing we really need if we are to survive in this world."
Marlena smiled. "You have been hanging around druids and healers too long," she said. "You are beginning to sound like one." Seymore laughed weakly and fell asleep as she left his room.
Marlena thought about Seymore's words. Perhaps, she thought, they were keeping too many secrets. She looked down at her lower torso. The signs were there; they were very subtle but they were there. So far, she had been able to keep it hidden, but she knew that the gestation period was going to be very short--barely two months in all. It would not be long and then it would be time. Up to now, Avery had kept silent, but soon his silence would not be needed.
Again, Seymore's words came back to her. They were followed by the sharp memory of the Oracle's test. With a final resolve, for good or ill, she would tell everyone about what was to come. She stopped by her room's door. It was just across the way from Samson's room. Some people, she decided, needed to be told gently. Softly, Marlena knocked on the warrior's door.
The next day the band of travellers set forth on the trail southward. Heineken had insisted on resupplying them and made maps of the region available for their use. He recommended that since they had some forces against them that they should try to travel as secretly as possible. The old dwarf did not know where the Lands of Time were, but he advised a trip to the University of the Magics in Allentown, a city at the far edge of the Orkon Mountain range.
"Travel southward to Tycho," he had said. "It is the largest city in the north and is populated primarily by elves and dwarves." Heineken pointed on the map to a point not too terribly far from the small village in which they had met their treacherous guide, Axlea. "There go to the Red Horizon tavern and ask for a dwarf named Regalus. He is my mother's brother. Tell him I said that my mother had a better beard than he does. He will know that I sent you. He will help you in any way he can."
Soon they were moving southward on light riding horses Heineken had provided. Tyson rode near the rear. He was uncertain about the recent turn of events. When he had offered his service to the dark maniac, Blackheart, he had believed his friends had undertaken a hopeless quest against an unmatchable enemy.
He had always held beliefs similar to those of Norwind and Ultrecht. His motto had always been: from each and to each equally regardless of ability or need. Total uniformity had always been what he preached, but now, he was not so sure. Some of the others, especially Armegon and Avery had different morals, but they had always made it a point not to let that get in the way of their work.
He had to keep his options open. He would try to help his friends get home, he owed them that much, and if they succeeded, then he would return with them. But he had to be careful. Blackheart was powerful and if he had to remain in this world, he wanted to be allied to that kind of power.
So to make sure he was in Blackheart's good graces, he would also watch for any opportunity to kill one or two of his companions off without arousing suspicion, in case they did not find a way home. He wanted Blackheart to think he was totally faithful. Companions or not, his own survival was what mattered most. He held some feelings for them, but not so much as to stop his dagger if the need and opportunity presented themselves.
His comrades were still missing their greater powers, but slowly they were beginning to show signs of increasing strength. Tyson wondered if it would be enough or too little, too late.
Tyson observed the backs of those in front of him. Which one to kill? He ruled out Avery, Keeneye and Norwind immediately. Norwind was a fellow monk and that was one line he was not going to cross. Avery was a ranger and was almost impossible to surprise or ambush. Keeneye had been a thief before and was likewise a difficult target. Besides, they were all three of elven ancestry and possessed superior senses of sight and hearing. For this reason, he also eliminated Armegon.
That left Samson, Seymore, Ultrecht and Marlena. Normally, he would exclude the fighters as they were inherently tougher, but Tyson was not anxious to take on Ultrecht or Marlena. His only chance against them would be a quick kill. If they survived the initial attack and brought their spells to bear, it would be his undoing. Also Marlena, the only woman, was more likely to be watched protectively by Samson. Ultrecht's magic, though probably the most powerful in the group, required the most time to summon forth. The mage could be overpowered if alone. That is assuming his wards were down, and the only way to find out would be to attack Ultrecht. It would be a risky gamble.
No, his best opportunity lay in the already weakened Seymore. At the appropriate time, it would be easy to put a dagger in the weary man's back. It just required tha opportunity. He would have to be patient.
As Tyson remained in deep thought, Samson and Marlena rode up near the front with Avery and Norwind. Behind them, Armegon and Ultrecht pulling the litter which carried Seymore when he was too tired to ride.
The days passed lazily and quietly. Occasionally, they passed a merchant or some other form of traveller, but the only problems arising from these encounters were the general greetings and sales pitches. After a few days, they passed the spot where they had been ambushed. It was generally agreed to move on, but Tyson wanted to stop to search for his lost pendant. He was grateful when Keeneye remembered that he had it. There was a brief joke about once a thief always a thief, but it was lost in the surrounding brush as the travelers continued their ride.
Each person passed the riding time talking or thinking on different things. Ultrecht and Armegon were deeply engaged in a conversation on the possible side effects a place called the Lands of Time might have on their spells. Avery, Keeneye and Samson rode in front and were trying to decide if they had managed to evade whatever forces that had been after them from their arrival. They were all in general agreement that they should not try to give themselves away again by using magic unless it was necessary.
Marlena took this the to speak quietly to Norwind on a matter of some importance. She explained her condition to him, and confided in him that she wanted him to know in case she was injured and could not speak for herself. In that way, she told each individual of the group about her condition. She asked each not to tell the others.
Within a few days, everyone knew of her pregnancy, yet no one knew that anyone else knew. Marlena amused herself by watching how hard it was for the males to keep the secret from each other. At one point, it become so comical that she burst out laughing. The effect enlightened an otherwise gloomy day.
After a few weeks of travel, the unmistakable signs of civilization began to show in the form of plowed fields and log cabins. It was not long afterward that they topped a low ridge and looked down on the valley holding the city of Tycho.
Towering trees held houses and bridges. Below on the ground were streets and stone buildings covering large areas, but were very low. It was almost as if there were two cities with one stacked atop the other. The city was a vision of architectural genius.
Anxiously, they entered the city and wandered down one of its major cobblestone thoroughfares. There were shops along both sides of the street. Stone, single-leveled constructions were spaced apart by massive oak and elm trunks rising up holding mazes of bridges and small tree houses.
"Such beauty," Marlena exclaimed at last. No one else spoke, yet all were thinking the same words the lady had spoken. Finally, they stopped at an intersection and pulled their animals into a stable. Everyone stood on the side of the street while Marlena and Keeneye made arrangements for the animals to be cared for while they were in town. Marlena had inspected the facilities and determined that the animals were in good hands after Keeneye assured her that the price the stable master asked was fair. She then inquired about the location of the Red Horizon, and the stable master happily offered directions and his best wishes.
Outside, Marlena relayed the instructions and the band slowly moved off toward the western end of the city. After an hour of navigating the city's streets, they arrived at a plain looking stone building with a very low roof and a great tree sprouting from its rear. The sign on the post in front identified it as the place they were looking for.
"Obviously not meant for tall customers," Samson said as he ducked his head to get through the door.
Inside the building was an empty dining area with a sunken floor, which allowed surprising headroom for tall visitors in spite of the low ceiling. There was a low bar at one side with an elf maiden polishing a stack of glass mugs.
"Glass cups," Seymore noted hoarsely.
"This is a class act," Norwind agreed.
"The building looks small and plain from the outside. That must be how they afford to keep the interior," Seymore laughed weakly, "low overhead."
"Low overhead?" Marlena frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be injured?" Seymore smiled and took a seat at a large table. He was joined by his companions.
"Good day to you." The barmaid greeted them as she passed out several thin wooden disks and placed glasses on each one. She then poured water into the glasses. "What can I get for you today?" she asked finally.
"What is the best?" Armegon asked.
"Fresh grilled venison and ale with yams and buttered bread," she replied. "We don't usually have visitors so early in the afternoon, so it may take a few minutes to have your meals prepared, but it is well worth the wait."
"For nine please," Armegon said, looking at the others. After hearing no objections, he added, "and two buckets of ale."
The maid left, and Norwind made a comment about barmaids on the menu. Marlena responded by pouring a glass of water in his lap. The water was extremely cold, and it was a point of interest to Ultrecht. He swore that the water was colder than the freezing temperature of the northern sea, yet it remained in liquid form. Norwind adamantly agreed it was colder than freezing as he fidgeted in his seat.
When the barmaid returned with the requested drinks, Ultrecht inquired about the cold water and was told that a high pressure underground stream was responsible. There was a local mineral which when added to liquids, kept them from solidifying too readily.
Armegon asked who the proprietor of the tavern was and the barmaid replied that Regalus was the owner and manager, but would not be in until later that evening.
They planned as they ate. Obviously sitting around waiting for the dward to come back was out of the question. The city was too intruiging. So it was decided that they would spend the day looking about in town and would return after sunset where they could meet Regalus and speak with him. They would continue their journey the next morning.
Regalus was indeed the kinsman of Heineken in some way or another. The same eyes and hair framed an older though familiar looking face. Marlena had wondered at the resemblance when she first set eyes on the old dwarf. As for Regalus, he had howled in laughter when Samson approached him and made the comment about the dwarf's bearded sister. Regalus readily accepted that the strangers staying at his inn were charges sent to him from his nephew.
"Allentown, eh?" The old dwarf leaned back and lit a pipe containing an herb that emitted a cinnamon odor. "That is quite a trip," he said at last. "Through the forests that could take as much as four months travel. By airborne mount, it would take four weeks."
"We need more speed than that," Samson said. "Without resorting to magic," he added after a pause.
"Being chased by warlocks?"
"Let us say we don't want anyone to know where we are or where we are going," Norwind mumbled as he drained a tankard of wine.
"Let me think this through," Regalus said finally. "I must remember to thank Heineken for referring you to me when next I see him."
They ate in silence for a few minutes as Regalus smoked and drank. After about half an hour, he snapped his fingers and pounded on the table with his fist. "Got it," he announced triumphantly.
"This is the eastern side of the Orkon Mountains", he explained. "Here we have forests and rich fertile croplands. On the other side, however, is a vast prairie and an oddity of natural mystery called the "Glass Desert." How it came into being is anyone's guess, but the prairie people have adapted iceboats to run along the glassy surface as easily as the ice you no doubt are familiar with.
There is a pass just south of here through the mountain range at its narrowest. That would take a couple of weeks to traverse. But once on the western side, desert skimming ships could carry you swiftly to the end of the desert. From there it is but a short journey to Allentown."
"Is there no way quicker?" Samson inquired.
"Not without employing magic." Regalus leaned back. "Ice boats and their desert adaptations are the fastest natural means of transport in the world."
"When do we leave?" Marlena asked. She really wanted to stay in Tycho longer and study the tree and stone city, but Ultrecht's warning of the closing portal kept haunting her as well as the gamble she carried in her womb.
"Whenever you are ready," Regalus replied. "Allow me to arrange for a guide..."
"If it is all the same to you," Tyson said cutting the old dwarf off. "We would just prefer a map." There was a great deal of agreement with that idea.
"Of course," Regalus replied. "But, I insist on restocking your supplies and giving you one last meal before you depart." The old dwarf smiled mischievously. "I'll send the bill to my nephew."
"Good morning," said the familiar figure sitting at a table near the stairs.
"Tyson!" Armegon made no effort to hide his surprise. "Where did you come from?"
"I came from the woods a little south of here," he replied. "During that little skirmish with those bandits, I was separated and forced to run for my life. It seems our so-called guide set us up."
"Yes," Armegon murmured thoughtfully. "If I ever get my hands on Axlea again, I will turn him into something unpleasant." Armegon signaled for the waitress, requested the house's breakfast special and took a seat. "So, what happened to you after the attack?"
Tyson leaned back across from Armegon. "Well, during the ambush, I had to strip down so the dogs tracking us would be thrown off the trail. Then, I ran through the woods for about ten minutes before I stumbled upon a swift stream. I took a short swim southward, which put more distance between me and them. I figured that was the one direction they’d be least likely to check for me. By the time I made my way back to camp, everyone was gone."
Armegon's food had arrived and he bade Tyson to continue his tale while he ate.
"Well, when I finally got here, I checked around and discovered which ship you had chartered. I also learned this was the only major port that ice boats used in this part of the world. I took a chance that you would return here."
"Gambling as always, eh, O master of hot air?" Samson approached the table and took a seat across from Armegon. He was followed by Keeneye and Marlena. She indicated that the others would be joining them shortly.
"Well, would you look at this," Keeneye said as he pulled up a chair. "Someone has thrown away a perfectly good mage."
"We missed you, dear friend," Marlena said giving the wayward Tyson a friendly hug.
For the rest of the morning, Tyson retold the story of his solo trek through the woods to escape his pursuers. In turn, he was interested in how his companions had fared and the quest's progress.
Much time was dedicated to the reunion. The innkeeper, recognizing an opportunity, masterfully urged the celebration into full swing with a round for the house. In fact, it was well into the evening before the festivities died out. Ultrecht was somewhat miffed about the wasting of a day, but Marlena had been quick to point out that to travel with half a party of intoxicated warriors would not be wise and the occasion of finding Tyson alive was worth taking a moment of celebration.
Later that evening, Marlena found that she was perplexed. Something was not quite right and she could not put her finger on it. She was as happy as anyone to see Tyson again, but his unexpected appearance was just a little too convenient. The thought brought back the Oracle's words like a distant echo: "lost to treachery". She discreetly expressed her concern to Seymore when she checked in on him later that evening. He had expended a lot of strength to join in on the celebration, in spite of Avery's attempts to keep him in bed.
"I don't think Tyson is being followed," he said, "and I am certain he is not involved in any treachery; not after what we have all been through together. We need each other to lean on. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other. Secrets reap distrust and trust is the one thing we really need if we are to survive in this world."
Marlena smiled. "You have been hanging around druids and healers too long," she said. "You are beginning to sound like one." Seymore laughed weakly and fell asleep as she left his room.
Marlena thought about Seymore's words. Perhaps, she thought, they were keeping too many secrets. She looked down at her lower torso. The signs were there; they were very subtle but they were there. So far, she had been able to keep it hidden, but she knew that the gestation period was going to be very short--barely two months in all. It would not be long and then it would be time. Up to now, Avery had kept silent, but soon his silence would not be needed.
Again, Seymore's words came back to her. They were followed by the sharp memory of the Oracle's test. With a final resolve, for good or ill, she would tell everyone about what was to come. She stopped by her room's door. It was just across the way from Samson's room. Some people, she decided, needed to be told gently. Softly, Marlena knocked on the warrior's door.
The next day the band of travellers set forth on the trail southward. Heineken had insisted on resupplying them and made maps of the region available for their use. He recommended that since they had some forces against them that they should try to travel as secretly as possible. The old dwarf did not know where the Lands of Time were, but he advised a trip to the University of the Magics in Allentown, a city at the far edge of the Orkon Mountain range.
"Travel southward to Tycho," he had said. "It is the largest city in the north and is populated primarily by elves and dwarves." Heineken pointed on the map to a point not too terribly far from the small village in which they had met their treacherous guide, Axlea. "There go to the Red Horizon tavern and ask for a dwarf named Regalus. He is my mother's brother. Tell him I said that my mother had a better beard than he does. He will know that I sent you. He will help you in any way he can."
Soon they were moving southward on light riding horses Heineken had provided. Tyson rode near the rear. He was uncertain about the recent turn of events. When he had offered his service to the dark maniac, Blackheart, he had believed his friends had undertaken a hopeless quest against an unmatchable enemy.
He had always held beliefs similar to those of Norwind and Ultrecht. His motto had always been: from each and to each equally regardless of ability or need. Total uniformity had always been what he preached, but now, he was not so sure. Some of the others, especially Armegon and Avery had different morals, but they had always made it a point not to let that get in the way of their work.
He had to keep his options open. He would try to help his friends get home, he owed them that much, and if they succeeded, then he would return with them. But he had to be careful. Blackheart was powerful and if he had to remain in this world, he wanted to be allied to that kind of power.
So to make sure he was in Blackheart's good graces, he would also watch for any opportunity to kill one or two of his companions off without arousing suspicion, in case they did not find a way home. He wanted Blackheart to think he was totally faithful. Companions or not, his own survival was what mattered most. He held some feelings for them, but not so much as to stop his dagger if the need and opportunity presented themselves.
His comrades were still missing their greater powers, but slowly they were beginning to show signs of increasing strength. Tyson wondered if it would be enough or too little, too late.
Tyson observed the backs of those in front of him. Which one to kill? He ruled out Avery, Keeneye and Norwind immediately. Norwind was a fellow monk and that was one line he was not going to cross. Avery was a ranger and was almost impossible to surprise or ambush. Keeneye had been a thief before and was likewise a difficult target. Besides, they were all three of elven ancestry and possessed superior senses of sight and hearing. For this reason, he also eliminated Armegon.
That left Samson, Seymore, Ultrecht and Marlena. Normally, he would exclude the fighters as they were inherently tougher, but Tyson was not anxious to take on Ultrecht or Marlena. His only chance against them would be a quick kill. If they survived the initial attack and brought their spells to bear, it would be his undoing. Also Marlena, the only woman, was more likely to be watched protectively by Samson. Ultrecht's magic, though probably the most powerful in the group, required the most time to summon forth. The mage could be overpowered if alone. That is assuming his wards were down, and the only way to find out would be to attack Ultrecht. It would be a risky gamble.
No, his best opportunity lay in the already weakened Seymore. At the appropriate time, it would be easy to put a dagger in the weary man's back. It just required tha opportunity. He would have to be patient.
As Tyson remained in deep thought, Samson and Marlena rode up near the front with Avery and Norwind. Behind them, Armegon and Ultrecht pulling the litter which carried Seymore when he was too tired to ride.
The days passed lazily and quietly. Occasionally, they passed a merchant or some other form of traveller, but the only problems arising from these encounters were the general greetings and sales pitches. After a few days, they passed the spot where they had been ambushed. It was generally agreed to move on, but Tyson wanted to stop to search for his lost pendant. He was grateful when Keeneye remembered that he had it. There was a brief joke about once a thief always a thief, but it was lost in the surrounding brush as the travelers continued their ride.
Each person passed the riding time talking or thinking on different things. Ultrecht and Armegon were deeply engaged in a conversation on the possible side effects a place called the Lands of Time might have on their spells. Avery, Keeneye and Samson rode in front and were trying to decide if they had managed to evade whatever forces that had been after them from their arrival. They were all in general agreement that they should not try to give themselves away again by using magic unless it was necessary.
Marlena took this the to speak quietly to Norwind on a matter of some importance. She explained her condition to him, and confided in him that she wanted him to know in case she was injured and could not speak for herself. In that way, she told each individual of the group about her condition. She asked each not to tell the others.
Within a few days, everyone knew of her pregnancy, yet no one knew that anyone else knew. Marlena amused herself by watching how hard it was for the males to keep the secret from each other. At one point, it become so comical that she burst out laughing. The effect enlightened an otherwise gloomy day.
After a few weeks of travel, the unmistakable signs of civilization began to show in the form of plowed fields and log cabins. It was not long afterward that they topped a low ridge and looked down on the valley holding the city of Tycho.
Towering trees held houses and bridges. Below on the ground were streets and stone buildings covering large areas, but were very low. It was almost as if there were two cities with one stacked atop the other. The city was a vision of architectural genius.
Anxiously, they entered the city and wandered down one of its major cobblestone thoroughfares. There were shops along both sides of the street. Stone, single-leveled constructions were spaced apart by massive oak and elm trunks rising up holding mazes of bridges and small tree houses.
"Such beauty," Marlena exclaimed at last. No one else spoke, yet all were thinking the same words the lady had spoken. Finally, they stopped at an intersection and pulled their animals into a stable. Everyone stood on the side of the street while Marlena and Keeneye made arrangements for the animals to be cared for while they were in town. Marlena had inspected the facilities and determined that the animals were in good hands after Keeneye assured her that the price the stable master asked was fair. She then inquired about the location of the Red Horizon, and the stable master happily offered directions and his best wishes.
Outside, Marlena relayed the instructions and the band slowly moved off toward the western end of the city. After an hour of navigating the city's streets, they arrived at a plain looking stone building with a very low roof and a great tree sprouting from its rear. The sign on the post in front identified it as the place they were looking for.
"Obviously not meant for tall customers," Samson said as he ducked his head to get through the door.
Inside the building was an empty dining area with a sunken floor, which allowed surprising headroom for tall visitors in spite of the low ceiling. There was a low bar at one side with an elf maiden polishing a stack of glass mugs.
"Glass cups," Seymore noted hoarsely.
"This is a class act," Norwind agreed.
"The building looks small and plain from the outside. That must be how they afford to keep the interior," Seymore laughed weakly, "low overhead."
"Low overhead?" Marlena frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be injured?" Seymore smiled and took a seat at a large table. He was joined by his companions.
"Good day to you." The barmaid greeted them as she passed out several thin wooden disks and placed glasses on each one. She then poured water into the glasses. "What can I get for you today?" she asked finally.
"What is the best?" Armegon asked.
"Fresh grilled venison and ale with yams and buttered bread," she replied. "We don't usually have visitors so early in the afternoon, so it may take a few minutes to have your meals prepared, but it is well worth the wait."
"For nine please," Armegon said, looking at the others. After hearing no objections, he added, "and two buckets of ale."
The maid left, and Norwind made a comment about barmaids on the menu. Marlena responded by pouring a glass of water in his lap. The water was extremely cold, and it was a point of interest to Ultrecht. He swore that the water was colder than the freezing temperature of the northern sea, yet it remained in liquid form. Norwind adamantly agreed it was colder than freezing as he fidgeted in his seat.
When the barmaid returned with the requested drinks, Ultrecht inquired about the cold water and was told that a high pressure underground stream was responsible. There was a local mineral which when added to liquids, kept them from solidifying too readily.
Armegon asked who the proprietor of the tavern was and the barmaid replied that Regalus was the owner and manager, but would not be in until later that evening.
They planned as they ate. Obviously sitting around waiting for the dward to come back was out of the question. The city was too intruiging. So it was decided that they would spend the day looking about in town and would return after sunset where they could meet Regalus and speak with him. They would continue their journey the next morning.
Regalus was indeed the kinsman of Heineken in some way or another. The same eyes and hair framed an older though familiar looking face. Marlena had wondered at the resemblance when she first set eyes on the old dwarf. As for Regalus, he had howled in laughter when Samson approached him and made the comment about the dwarf's bearded sister. Regalus readily accepted that the strangers staying at his inn were charges sent to him from his nephew.
"Allentown, eh?" The old dwarf leaned back and lit a pipe containing an herb that emitted a cinnamon odor. "That is quite a trip," he said at last. "Through the forests that could take as much as four months travel. By airborne mount, it would take four weeks."
"We need more speed than that," Samson said. "Without resorting to magic," he added after a pause.
"Being chased by warlocks?"
"Let us say we don't want anyone to know where we are or where we are going," Norwind mumbled as he drained a tankard of wine.
"Let me think this through," Regalus said finally. "I must remember to thank Heineken for referring you to me when next I see him."
They ate in silence for a few minutes as Regalus smoked and drank. After about half an hour, he snapped his fingers and pounded on the table with his fist. "Got it," he announced triumphantly.
"This is the eastern side of the Orkon Mountains", he explained. "Here we have forests and rich fertile croplands. On the other side, however, is a vast prairie and an oddity of natural mystery called the "Glass Desert." How it came into being is anyone's guess, but the prairie people have adapted iceboats to run along the glassy surface as easily as the ice you no doubt are familiar with.
There is a pass just south of here through the mountain range at its narrowest. That would take a couple of weeks to traverse. But once on the western side, desert skimming ships could carry you swiftly to the end of the desert. From there it is but a short journey to Allentown."
"Is there no way quicker?" Samson inquired.
"Not without employing magic." Regalus leaned back. "Ice boats and their desert adaptations are the fastest natural means of transport in the world."
"When do we leave?" Marlena asked. She really wanted to stay in Tycho longer and study the tree and stone city, but Ultrecht's warning of the closing portal kept haunting her as well as the gamble she carried in her womb.
"Whenever you are ready," Regalus replied. "Allow me to arrange for a guide..."
"If it is all the same to you," Tyson said cutting the old dwarf off. "We would just prefer a map." There was a great deal of agreement with that idea.
"Of course," Regalus replied. "But, I insist on restocking your supplies and giving you one last meal before you depart." The old dwarf smiled mischievously. "I'll send the bill to my nephew."
Friday, April 3, 2009
Chapter 4 Part 6
The third day of the voyage across the ice found the Westward Cutter drifting along lazily in the mid-morning. The wind had died down significantly and though still making headway, the tacking ship had slowed considerably. Skimmer and the dwarven captain were skillfully trimming the ship's sails and airfoils to squeeze every bit of speed from the light breeze.
While in the ship's rigging, Skimmer called out that he had spotted another sail off to the south. Everyone approached the railing to see what the visitor looked like, but it was far too distant to be seen from the deck. So, Heineken ordered the boy to remain aloft and keep watch.
After an hour, the other ship had closed the distance enough to be seen by those below. Heineken gave Norwind the helm and walked up to the bow of the ship to get an unobstructed view of the stranger. Samson was already there shifting sandbags in preparation for the next tack.
"We will not be tacking immediately," the dwarf told the big man. "Yonder boat is the larger and courtesy demands that we allow them to make the first tack. That way we can tack upwind of them and both boats can continue on their way. If he tacks upwind of us, we would come to a dead stop." The dwarf shielded the sun from his eyes and peered out toward the other boat.
"She is flying Tycarian colors, captain," Skimmer called down from the rigging.
"That is odd," the old dwarf murmured.
"What is it, captain?" Samson asked.
"She looks as if she is coming from the Ice Kingdom's royal port, but she is flying Tycarian colors, and her destination appears to be the Twin Cities."
"And that is strange?"
"Tycho is presently in a state of boycott with the Ice Kingdom as are many other city states. They may be carrying passengers as I am doing, but why then would they be using such a ship?"
"Maybe that is the only vessel that was available." Samson offered.
"I am sure you are right," the captain agreed reluctantly. "I am just getting suspicious in my old age."
"If they were carrying passengers between the Ice Kingdom and Tycho, why are they destined for the Twin Cities?" Keeneye asked.
"Perhaps she is off course," Samson suggested.
"Tycho is too far south for an ice port, so there is a treaty between the cities that allows Tycho untaxed dock space in the Twin Cities. It is a very beneficial arrangement. Tycho has a stronger economy and much business flows through the Twin Cities. Also Tycho pays for the privilege with cheap agricultural goods," the old dwarf explained. "So any Tycarian ice boat you see probably has its home port in the Twin Cities."
"How did the Twin Cities get their name?" Keeneye asked. "We only saw one city."
Heineken laughed. "Long ago when they were still two separate townships and much smaller, the government was still under an old chieftain system. It just so happened that a set of twin brothers each became chief of one of the two townships. Since then the original names of the villages hasn't been used. They are just called the Twin Cities. Of course now they are a single city but the name still holds."
About the time that Heinekin concluded his tale, the larger ship slowed and changed direction. As the ship's new course was set, Norwind brought the Cutter about likewise. Though still some good distance apart, the lighter Cutter was moving slightly faster. Slowly, the other ship got closer.
"By tradition," Heineken explained to his passengers, "we must yield right-of-way to the larger vessel. We should also allow her a good ten to twenty second distance of separation."
Skimmer had scrambled down and was arranging the sandbags. Others were watching the other boat. Even Seymore had climbed up the stairs to see.
"She is a big vessel," Heineken observed. "Probably a freighter."
"Her stern markings identify her as a merchant ship, captain," Skimmer said as he pushed a sandbag across the deck.
Keeneye squinted his eyes. "There are several people on deck watching us," he observed.
"Why not," Samson remarked. "We're watching them."
"Should we go into our non-human slave disguises?" Keeneye asked.
"I don't think so," Heineken replied. "Though they appear to be coming from the Ice Kingdom, they are flying Tycarian colors and Tycho has a non-human population. I think we will be fine as we are. But when we get close enough to them, we will see if they have anything worth doing a little business for."
In reality, it was about half an hour before the Cutter actually approached close enough to permit yelling from ship to ship. The captain of the other vessel stated that he was carrying animal pelts to Midway Island by route of the Twin Cities. At the mere mention of pelts, Marlena issued a soft sound of disgust, which Samson covered tactfully with a sneeze. The other ship's captain admitted that he was overloaded and some of the pelts would not keep for the whole journey. He offered to sell his excess to Heineken at less than half cost.
"At under half cost!" Skimmer exclaimed. "Why?"
"If he doesn't sell them to someone, they will rot and he won't get anything for them," Heineken explained. "This way he gets something for them."
Heineken called back that he would buy as much as he could afford. He then sent Skimmer to the task of pacing the other ship while he went to his cabin to check his funds. He was busily reviewing his ledger and log book when he heard his apprentice cry out in agony. Fearing the worst, he could hear his passengers yelling as he raced up to the deck.
The sight on the deck was dreadful. Skimmer was pinned to the base of the mast by several crossbow bolts. Although still breathing, he was bleeding profusely. Keeneye was rushing down to the other hatch, probably to get arms and help. Norwind was at the helm dodging arrows with an unnatural agility, while Samson was standing erect at the ship's bow with a sword in his massive hand and yelling some kind of challenge. Heineken sprinted towards the stern of the ship. Their visitors were obviously pirates disguised as merchants and flying the colors of a major city, which was how they got their victims to walk into their trap. And, as soon as the victim cut his sail, the marauders attacked. Heineken was angry with himself for being caught so easily.
Heineken ran past Norwind and barked an order for the monk to retrim the sail. "We need speed and we need it now!" With Norwind hauling on the ropes, Heineken grabbed a short dagger from the railing and cut loose the sandbags that had been dragging along behind the vessel as brakes to slow its velocity.
Turning around, he saw that the reinforcements had arrived on the deck, while Samson and Norwind were working on the sail. The two wizards, coming from below, were reaching into various pouches for the gods only knew what. The lady Marlena was standing not far away with her arms outstretched and her head thrown back. She seemed to be mumbling in some foreign language.
Heineken jumped to the helm and spun the wheel turning the ship with the wind. The other ship did likewise. Norwind and Samson were hauling on the halyard to raise the mainsail when a tree flew across and snapped the line. Looking back, Heineken saw several pirates reloading a huge ballista with a pole about three meters long.
Samson too had seen this and he ran towards the side of the ship. Heineken thought for a instant that the big man was going to jump overboard, but instead Samson bent over and picked up one of the counterweight sand bags. When the pirates launched the ballista again, it was aimed directly at the Cutter's rudder mechanism. The damage would have been fatal, except at the last minute, Samson heaved the sand bag over the side where it intercepted the missile and saved the ship's steering system.
To his left, Heineken saw Keeneye launching a deadly barrage of arrows. They were obviously having some affect because the incoming missiles were decreasing in number. By the mast, Heineken saw Avery carrying the limp form of Skimmer below deck. The quiet halfelf should have been helping with the fight, he thought, but he did not object to Avery tending to the youth.
Suddenly, twin streaks of blue fury reached out and touched the enemy's ship. The mages' magic sent figures scattering and a huge fire erupted on deck. At the same time, Norwind tied off the main halyard. The Westward Cutter's sails snapped tight and the deck lurched forward. Without pausing to think, Heineken dashed back to the helm and held the wheel tightly.
The pirate ship was falling behind at an alarming rate and it took the old dwarf a moment to realize that this new wind was exclusively his. The answer to its origin could be seen in the lovely woman standing near the bow with the wind whipping through her deep chestnut hair. Her arms were raised as if she were a conductor of a music company leading them through a performance. Lightning and thunder bent to her will, while the wind drove the ship faster than it had ever traveled before.
Heineken watched critically as the pirate ship quickly dwindled to a dot on the horizon. Norwind came aft while holding to the railing to keep from being blown down by the saving wind. He offered to relieve the captain so that he might see to his apprentice, but Heineken refused. Instead, he issued orders and directions to drop the sail and trim the airfoil for a high speed turn back towards the Twin Cities. He was confident they were far enough from the pirates that they would not make another attempt on them.
It took several hours for Marlena's conjured storm to dissipate. In that time, the Westward Cutter made superb time. Heineken felt even better when he was told that Avery had managed to save Skimmer. The healer recommended rest for about a week before returning to work, a prognosis which Heineken was all too happy to oblige.
Heineken was overly grateful towards his passengers for saving his craft. He even offered to refund their fee, but Marlena refused, causing Ultrecht to bite his tongue. The next day they saw the shoreline north of the Twin Cities on the horizon. Heineken promised his passengers that they would sleep in a tavern for that night; it was the least he could do, and as night fell, the Cutter pulled into her berth and was secured by dock hands.
Heineken insisted that he be allowed to buy them a meal and at least a one night's stay in an inn owned by one of his friends. Marlena accepted on behalf of everyone arguing that she needed a good bed to get some sleep in for a change. Seymore, feeling in a jesty mood, commented that it was beauty sleep that she really needed. This earned him a menacing scowl.
That night Heineken entertained a good fifty patrons in the tavern with a tale of how he and a few of his friends had fought off pirates coming out of the Ice Kingdom. The company was highly amused as each of them heard the number of ships increase with each passing telling of the tale throughout the night. Finally, the innkeeper closed the tavern and everyone retired.
While in the ship's rigging, Skimmer called out that he had spotted another sail off to the south. Everyone approached the railing to see what the visitor looked like, but it was far too distant to be seen from the deck. So, Heineken ordered the boy to remain aloft and keep watch.
After an hour, the other ship had closed the distance enough to be seen by those below. Heineken gave Norwind the helm and walked up to the bow of the ship to get an unobstructed view of the stranger. Samson was already there shifting sandbags in preparation for the next tack.
"We will not be tacking immediately," the dwarf told the big man. "Yonder boat is the larger and courtesy demands that we allow them to make the first tack. That way we can tack upwind of them and both boats can continue on their way. If he tacks upwind of us, we would come to a dead stop." The dwarf shielded the sun from his eyes and peered out toward the other boat.
"She is flying Tycarian colors, captain," Skimmer called down from the rigging.
"That is odd," the old dwarf murmured.
"What is it, captain?" Samson asked.
"She looks as if she is coming from the Ice Kingdom's royal port, but she is flying Tycarian colors, and her destination appears to be the Twin Cities."
"And that is strange?"
"Tycho is presently in a state of boycott with the Ice Kingdom as are many other city states. They may be carrying passengers as I am doing, but why then would they be using such a ship?"
"Maybe that is the only vessel that was available." Samson offered.
"I am sure you are right," the captain agreed reluctantly. "I am just getting suspicious in my old age."
"If they were carrying passengers between the Ice Kingdom and Tycho, why are they destined for the Twin Cities?" Keeneye asked.
"Perhaps she is off course," Samson suggested.
"Tycho is too far south for an ice port, so there is a treaty between the cities that allows Tycho untaxed dock space in the Twin Cities. It is a very beneficial arrangement. Tycho has a stronger economy and much business flows through the Twin Cities. Also Tycho pays for the privilege with cheap agricultural goods," the old dwarf explained. "So any Tycarian ice boat you see probably has its home port in the Twin Cities."
"How did the Twin Cities get their name?" Keeneye asked. "We only saw one city."
Heineken laughed. "Long ago when they were still two separate townships and much smaller, the government was still under an old chieftain system. It just so happened that a set of twin brothers each became chief of one of the two townships. Since then the original names of the villages hasn't been used. They are just called the Twin Cities. Of course now they are a single city but the name still holds."
About the time that Heinekin concluded his tale, the larger ship slowed and changed direction. As the ship's new course was set, Norwind brought the Cutter about likewise. Though still some good distance apart, the lighter Cutter was moving slightly faster. Slowly, the other ship got closer.
"By tradition," Heineken explained to his passengers, "we must yield right-of-way to the larger vessel. We should also allow her a good ten to twenty second distance of separation."
Skimmer had scrambled down and was arranging the sandbags. Others were watching the other boat. Even Seymore had climbed up the stairs to see.
"She is a big vessel," Heineken observed. "Probably a freighter."
"Her stern markings identify her as a merchant ship, captain," Skimmer said as he pushed a sandbag across the deck.
Keeneye squinted his eyes. "There are several people on deck watching us," he observed.
"Why not," Samson remarked. "We're watching them."
"Should we go into our non-human slave disguises?" Keeneye asked.
"I don't think so," Heineken replied. "Though they appear to be coming from the Ice Kingdom, they are flying Tycarian colors and Tycho has a non-human population. I think we will be fine as we are. But when we get close enough to them, we will see if they have anything worth doing a little business for."
In reality, it was about half an hour before the Cutter actually approached close enough to permit yelling from ship to ship. The captain of the other vessel stated that he was carrying animal pelts to Midway Island by route of the Twin Cities. At the mere mention of pelts, Marlena issued a soft sound of disgust, which Samson covered tactfully with a sneeze. The other ship's captain admitted that he was overloaded and some of the pelts would not keep for the whole journey. He offered to sell his excess to Heineken at less than half cost.
"At under half cost!" Skimmer exclaimed. "Why?"
"If he doesn't sell them to someone, they will rot and he won't get anything for them," Heineken explained. "This way he gets something for them."
Heineken called back that he would buy as much as he could afford. He then sent Skimmer to the task of pacing the other ship while he went to his cabin to check his funds. He was busily reviewing his ledger and log book when he heard his apprentice cry out in agony. Fearing the worst, he could hear his passengers yelling as he raced up to the deck.
The sight on the deck was dreadful. Skimmer was pinned to the base of the mast by several crossbow bolts. Although still breathing, he was bleeding profusely. Keeneye was rushing down to the other hatch, probably to get arms and help. Norwind was at the helm dodging arrows with an unnatural agility, while Samson was standing erect at the ship's bow with a sword in his massive hand and yelling some kind of challenge. Heineken sprinted towards the stern of the ship. Their visitors were obviously pirates disguised as merchants and flying the colors of a major city, which was how they got their victims to walk into their trap. And, as soon as the victim cut his sail, the marauders attacked. Heineken was angry with himself for being caught so easily.
Heineken ran past Norwind and barked an order for the monk to retrim the sail. "We need speed and we need it now!" With Norwind hauling on the ropes, Heineken grabbed a short dagger from the railing and cut loose the sandbags that had been dragging along behind the vessel as brakes to slow its velocity.
Turning around, he saw that the reinforcements had arrived on the deck, while Samson and Norwind were working on the sail. The two wizards, coming from below, were reaching into various pouches for the gods only knew what. The lady Marlena was standing not far away with her arms outstretched and her head thrown back. She seemed to be mumbling in some foreign language.
Heineken jumped to the helm and spun the wheel turning the ship with the wind. The other ship did likewise. Norwind and Samson were hauling on the halyard to raise the mainsail when a tree flew across and snapped the line. Looking back, Heineken saw several pirates reloading a huge ballista with a pole about three meters long.
Samson too had seen this and he ran towards the side of the ship. Heineken thought for a instant that the big man was going to jump overboard, but instead Samson bent over and picked up one of the counterweight sand bags. When the pirates launched the ballista again, it was aimed directly at the Cutter's rudder mechanism. The damage would have been fatal, except at the last minute, Samson heaved the sand bag over the side where it intercepted the missile and saved the ship's steering system.
To his left, Heineken saw Keeneye launching a deadly barrage of arrows. They were obviously having some affect because the incoming missiles were decreasing in number. By the mast, Heineken saw Avery carrying the limp form of Skimmer below deck. The quiet halfelf should have been helping with the fight, he thought, but he did not object to Avery tending to the youth.
Suddenly, twin streaks of blue fury reached out and touched the enemy's ship. The mages' magic sent figures scattering and a huge fire erupted on deck. At the same time, Norwind tied off the main halyard. The Westward Cutter's sails snapped tight and the deck lurched forward. Without pausing to think, Heineken dashed back to the helm and held the wheel tightly.
The pirate ship was falling behind at an alarming rate and it took the old dwarf a moment to realize that this new wind was exclusively his. The answer to its origin could be seen in the lovely woman standing near the bow with the wind whipping through her deep chestnut hair. Her arms were raised as if she were a conductor of a music company leading them through a performance. Lightning and thunder bent to her will, while the wind drove the ship faster than it had ever traveled before.
Heineken watched critically as the pirate ship quickly dwindled to a dot on the horizon. Norwind came aft while holding to the railing to keep from being blown down by the saving wind. He offered to relieve the captain so that he might see to his apprentice, but Heineken refused. Instead, he issued orders and directions to drop the sail and trim the airfoil for a high speed turn back towards the Twin Cities. He was confident they were far enough from the pirates that they would not make another attempt on them.
It took several hours for Marlena's conjured storm to dissipate. In that time, the Westward Cutter made superb time. Heineken felt even better when he was told that Avery had managed to save Skimmer. The healer recommended rest for about a week before returning to work, a prognosis which Heineken was all too happy to oblige.
Heineken was overly grateful towards his passengers for saving his craft. He even offered to refund their fee, but Marlena refused, causing Ultrecht to bite his tongue. The next day they saw the shoreline north of the Twin Cities on the horizon. Heineken promised his passengers that they would sleep in a tavern for that night; it was the least he could do, and as night fell, the Cutter pulled into her berth and was secured by dock hands.
Heineken insisted that he be allowed to buy them a meal and at least a one night's stay in an inn owned by one of his friends. Marlena accepted on behalf of everyone arguing that she needed a good bed to get some sleep in for a change. Seymore, feeling in a jesty mood, commented that it was beauty sleep that she really needed. This earned him a menacing scowl.
That night Heineken entertained a good fifty patrons in the tavern with a tale of how he and a few of his friends had fought off pirates coming out of the Ice Kingdom. The company was highly amused as each of them heard the number of ships increase with each passing telling of the tale throughout the night. Finally, the innkeeper closed the tavern and everyone retired.
Chapter 4 Part 5
The table was round. This was the traditional setting for the meeting of two or more who acknowledged the equality of each other. Serpent Blackheart and his son were engaged in negotiations with the Dukes of Hell. He would have preferred to have Morteous with him, but the warlock was seeing to their enemies and that was also an important matter.
"By this treaty," Mephistopheles, one of the Dukes of Hell, and a powerful ruler, said in a strong bass voice, "House Blackheart will receive one hundred companies of Spined Devils, fifty companies of Horned Devils, two legions of Ice Devils and one legion of Pit Fiends. In addition, House Blackheart is hereby granted authority over two hundred thousand wights and one hundred wraiths. This is to be used as House Blackheart sees fit for a period no greater than one smaller moon to commence upon request.
In return, the Dukes of Hell are granted exclusive rights to the souls of all casualties inflicted upon the minions of House Blackheart during the conflict, in addition to all souls of those slain by minions of Hell and the undead." Mephistopheles rolled up the scroll outlining the agreement. "Is this satisfactory to both sides?"
Serpent Blackheart arose from his chair. "The agreement is acceptable to House Blackheart," he announced.
Asmodeous also stood to face his new ally. "The Dukes of Hell also agree."
Mephistopheles affixed a wax seal to the parchment, then handed it to the High Priest of Set, a thin and pale man whose presence was as much referee as mediator. "As agreed," the arch-devil said, "the dark god will mediate the transaction as a neutral party."
"Agreed and witnessed," said the High Priest as he accepted the scroll.
As the priest left the room, Serpent walked around the table to where Asmodeous stood. "I can foresee a profitable relationship in the future for us," the devil said.
"I hope that it is as you say, O Master if the Underworld."
"Your associates bargained well, Arch-devil," Miguel commented as he approached. "I would like to have Mephistopheles with me when I go to bargain with Freon and the Ice Kingdom for their support in the upcoming campaign."
"Fear not, grandson of the Godking," Asmodeous laughed. "The way you bargain, one expected to see horns sprouting from your own brow. I have no doubt that you will do quite well on your own."
He leaned closer to Miguel. "Darwina speaks admirably of your, shall we say, abilities, and the queen of the Ice Kingdom is well-known for her tastes in fleshly pleasures. I think you will have no trouble getting her support."
The entire room broke into laughter. Apparently, even in Hell, Miguel's reputation in the bedchamber had gotten around.
Morteous was waiting in Serpent's private chambers when the master of Aspberg returned from the meeting. "You missed a good meeting, my brother," he said as he entered the room and began to disrobe. Morteous sat in silence and watched the tyrant change clothes. "The Dukes of Hell are lending us such aid that we may be able to achieve more than we had originally planned." Serpent sat across from his brother. Morteous had a worried look on his face. "What is wrong?"
Morteous leaned back in his chair. "Things are moving too slowly," he said. "We should have waited to summon our victims. The magic that drained their powers is losing its potency. Their powers are beginning to return, and I will not be able to stop it."
"I can not set our plan into action until we are ready. What would you have me do?"
"Just hurry," Morteous said as he stood and wrung his hands impatiently. "Hurry before the chance is lost."
Miguel returned to his chambers to fetch a few items he needed for his voyage to Freon. He was surprised, but not disappointed, to see Darwina on his bed.
"One more roll in the sack before you leave, my lover?"
Miguel smiled. "If I fell into your arms now, I may never get to Freon in time for the conference."
"You know that I could get you there in a matter of minutes. Come to me, mortal master."
Miguel took the she-devil into his embrace. The fact that her form was not entirely human meant little to him. The tiny black horns and soft tail covered with fine downy fuzz were far from repulsive. Her small fangs only made her kisses more exciting and her pink skin contrasted with her lavender hair making her into a voluptuous, sexually enraging object of lust. That was how Miguel had originally seen her on that night so long ago when she had come to corrupt his soul. Now they had become close friends and regular lovers. His father had even suggested a marriage to ally the Dukes of Hell to the causes of House Blackheart.
"I am sorry, Darwina," Miguel said at last. "I can't let you be involved yet. Diabolic magic is easily identifiable, and we don't want anyone to know of the alliance until we are ready to strike."
"Well, then how about a quickie?"
Miguel surrendered.
"By this treaty," Mephistopheles, one of the Dukes of Hell, and a powerful ruler, said in a strong bass voice, "House Blackheart will receive one hundred companies of Spined Devils, fifty companies of Horned Devils, two legions of Ice Devils and one legion of Pit Fiends. In addition, House Blackheart is hereby granted authority over two hundred thousand wights and one hundred wraiths. This is to be used as House Blackheart sees fit for a period no greater than one smaller moon to commence upon request.
In return, the Dukes of Hell are granted exclusive rights to the souls of all casualties inflicted upon the minions of House Blackheart during the conflict, in addition to all souls of those slain by minions of Hell and the undead." Mephistopheles rolled up the scroll outlining the agreement. "Is this satisfactory to both sides?"
Serpent Blackheart arose from his chair. "The agreement is acceptable to House Blackheart," he announced.
Asmodeous also stood to face his new ally. "The Dukes of Hell also agree."
Mephistopheles affixed a wax seal to the parchment, then handed it to the High Priest of Set, a thin and pale man whose presence was as much referee as mediator. "As agreed," the arch-devil said, "the dark god will mediate the transaction as a neutral party."
"Agreed and witnessed," said the High Priest as he accepted the scroll.
As the priest left the room, Serpent walked around the table to where Asmodeous stood. "I can foresee a profitable relationship in the future for us," the devil said.
"I hope that it is as you say, O Master if the Underworld."
"Your associates bargained well, Arch-devil," Miguel commented as he approached. "I would like to have Mephistopheles with me when I go to bargain with Freon and the Ice Kingdom for their support in the upcoming campaign."
"Fear not, grandson of the Godking," Asmodeous laughed. "The way you bargain, one expected to see horns sprouting from your own brow. I have no doubt that you will do quite well on your own."
He leaned closer to Miguel. "Darwina speaks admirably of your, shall we say, abilities, and the queen of the Ice Kingdom is well-known for her tastes in fleshly pleasures. I think you will have no trouble getting her support."
The entire room broke into laughter. Apparently, even in Hell, Miguel's reputation in the bedchamber had gotten around.
Morteous was waiting in Serpent's private chambers when the master of Aspberg returned from the meeting. "You missed a good meeting, my brother," he said as he entered the room and began to disrobe. Morteous sat in silence and watched the tyrant change clothes. "The Dukes of Hell are lending us such aid that we may be able to achieve more than we had originally planned." Serpent sat across from his brother. Morteous had a worried look on his face. "What is wrong?"
Morteous leaned back in his chair. "Things are moving too slowly," he said. "We should have waited to summon our victims. The magic that drained their powers is losing its potency. Their powers are beginning to return, and I will not be able to stop it."
"I can not set our plan into action until we are ready. What would you have me do?"
"Just hurry," Morteous said as he stood and wrung his hands impatiently. "Hurry before the chance is lost."
Miguel returned to his chambers to fetch a few items he needed for his voyage to Freon. He was surprised, but not disappointed, to see Darwina on his bed.
"One more roll in the sack before you leave, my lover?"
Miguel smiled. "If I fell into your arms now, I may never get to Freon in time for the conference."
"You know that I could get you there in a matter of minutes. Come to me, mortal master."
Miguel took the she-devil into his embrace. The fact that her form was not entirely human meant little to him. The tiny black horns and soft tail covered with fine downy fuzz were far from repulsive. Her small fangs only made her kisses more exciting and her pink skin contrasted with her lavender hair making her into a voluptuous, sexually enraging object of lust. That was how Miguel had originally seen her on that night so long ago when she had come to corrupt his soul. Now they had become close friends and regular lovers. His father had even suggested a marriage to ally the Dukes of Hell to the causes of House Blackheart.
"I am sorry, Darwina," Miguel said at last. "I can't let you be involved yet. Diabolic magic is easily identifiable, and we don't want anyone to know of the alliance until we are ready to strike."
"Well, then how about a quickie?"
Miguel surrendered.
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