As the woman approached Durrant and the first cart, Jack moved to greet the priestess. He and his horse towered above her, but he did not daunt her. Her two horsemen did not move, but silently watched the encounter. The woman stopped and looked up at Jack's dour face and gave him a warm smile. "Good sir, you are obviously tasked with the protection of this caravan; I am but an unarmed cleric who seeks a word with your master."
"Aw let her by Jack. Have some respect," Durrant called from his seat on the first cart. Jack nodded and backed away without a word and the woman proceeded to Durrant who was climbing down to meet her. "Good mother," he bowed awkwardly - obviously unused to the formalities of exchanges with the clergy.
"Please, call me Linda," she bid him with another easy smile. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"I'm Durrant. What can I do for you this morning?"
"My companions and I are heading north, to Bilcoven. We had heard the lands between there are largely unsettled and unsafe for small groups of travelers. We have waited many days, and yours is the first caravan headed north. I humbly request permission to accompany your troop along its path. We have our own supplies, and merely wish the company to ward off would-be bandits. My companions are more than willing to assist your guardsmen at no charge to you."
By Durrant's expression, everyone could tell he was having trouble with this request. He thought and stared at the priestess astride her mule for a few moments that seemed longer than they were. "I agree that travel is unsafe along the northern routes. You can see my load is heavy; we won't be making very good time. If you waited another swifter group is sure to come and you'd be passing us by."
"Please sir, I would rather not risk more waiting. Speed is not a concern."
A few more moments of thought and Durrant acquiesced. "I can't find a good enough reason to say no, although my gut tells me it's a bad idea. You are not running from anything are ya?"
"Most certainly not good sir!" she laughed. "Most would consider it a blessing to have group of holy ones along!"
"Well I may come think that - but now I feel like I've taken on a responsibility to you and yours," he nodded at her companions still standing on the road, "that I had not accounted for."
"I see you are a man of mysticism, Durrant. You have my promise that Daghdha and Brigantia have blessed our mission and our fates are set. The gods work through we mortals and perhaps this feeling of yours is an unfamiliar inner revelation that you, as distant as you think are from their influence, are important to them as well."
Durrant chuckled slightly and smiled back at Linda, "An interesting interpretation - not sure I agree. You've met Jack, Captain of the Guards. That's my assistant Stellan over there. Follow along behind us and we will extend our protection to you. Let us get moving!" Durrant turned and climbed back up the ladder to the driver's seat and looked over the caravan.
Wendle had finished with his oxen and was checking the herd of four spare oxen, two horses, and two goats. Karod and Dolan had been asked to help keep the animals together as they rode on either side, and Kort and Sirilyr to keep them moving from behind. Soon everyone was ready and the massive carts began to roll.
"I feel more like a cowherd than a merchant guard," quipped Sirilyr to his fellow guardsman Kort. Using the horned tip of his long bow to prod a stubborn goat, disinterested with the proceedings of the march, to get a move on along. He continued, casting an appreciative eye over the four new comers. "Priests travelling with only one guard, and he carrying a levy weapon. It doesn't tally. Mark my words Kort, They're in a hurry either to get somewhere, or else they're a running from something." Sighing as he avoided stepping in fresh horse dung, "either way, I smell a brew of trouble coming our way old son!"
"Old son! Yer one to talk kid. My village was looked after by the druids. Priests make me nervous."
Moving his eyes from the now trotting animals, up to the women on the mules. Sirilyr smiled appreciatively as he watched the younger of the two ride. "Yes indeed, trouble. You keep an eye to the right of the way, and I'll keep an eye to the left. We'll watch each other’s backs like old soldiers do for one another, that'll get us through this little walk. If trouble does come, I've a feeling it'll come from behind us," nodding with his head over his shoulder back towards the city of Dann. "So ye might want to keep an occasional watch to our rear."
Sirilyr looked over Kort over appraisingly. He is a couple years older than Sirilyr; solidly built but not extremely nimble. He said "Ye have been in a fight before, right? No matter, will do the best we can," smiling at Kort. "After all we archers have got to stick together, eh?"
Kort nodded, "Got jumped by bandits a year ago; first
blood on my blade. Nothing happened until the war. I saw action with Derin's
Archers toward the end of the war, I shot allot of arrows and probably
kilt allot of orcs but it ain't the same." Sirilyr did not recognize the
reference.
The oxen slowly pulled the laden carts along
the well-packed road away from Dann. The easy pace was pleasant, especially
for those accustomed to traveling with lighter loads and impatient bosses.
As gruff as Durrant was in general, he did not push this caravan anywhere
near its limit. The steady beasts were driven on two six-hour shifts per
day. It made for long lunches as Wendle, Talon, and Sirilyr switched the
heavy gear from one set of oxen to the other. Durrant stopped the caravan
each day at dusk to set camp. Even when a village was nearby they setup
camp and were only allowed a few hours of carousing and only in shifts
of two or three. Durrant did not want his goods unguarded.
The four pilgrims, that seemed the best description, tagged along separately the first few nights, even lodging at any nearby inn. Once inns became scarce they made camp with the caravan and finally became a part of the group. Even so, they were a quiet bunch. The knight, Storn, matched stoicism with Jack. At least Jack gave orders; Storn seemed to talk very little and only to his companions. The young priestess, Mellody, was quite shy. She helped Cecilia and Wendle care for the animals, but mostly stayed by Linda's side in quiet obedience. Brian, the only secular one of the four, also said little but was quick to smile at Talon's antics and attentive to the tales spun around the campfire. He and Storn would spar, mace to axe, and he practiced regularly with his crossbow - obviously getting accustomed to the weapon.
Linda was certainly the most active of the group. As they traveled, she would bless the streams they crossed. Actually some she did and others she did not, no one could predict when she would extract a few clay pots from her chests and perform a short ritual with Mellody culminating with the dribbling of water from the pot into the stream. If a village was near, the four of them would visit and often stay well after Durrant had moved on. They would always catch up by mid-day so Mellody could tend to the tired oxen.
Spencer, the other newcomer, was not very talkative either. He seemed all business and none too impressed with the pilgrims. With the leisurely pace of the caravan, he usually let his horse stay with small herd behind the caravan, but he occasionally mounted and rode awhile or rode away to get a good vantagepoint to observe interesting terrain. He often consulted a library of maps he had stashed in various places. A strange fellow - shaved head and face and not much for small talk. He sparred with the guards and was quite agile; adept and climbing trees and falling from them without injury. He often returned to camp and shared tasty herbs or berries to eat, brew, or to spice up Cecilia's cooking.
Jack led the caravan about fifty yards ahead. He would occasionally signal one of the two riders, Dolan or Karod, to ride ahead and scout a blind turn or copse of trees. Durrant drove the lead wagon, occasionally accompanied by Stellan but usually alone with his crossbow close at hand. Stellan mostly walked along with Georan, Talon, and Spencer after Durrant's wagon, he would also visit with Wendle, Cecilia, the rear guards Sirilyr and Kort, and eventually with the pilgrims too. One guard was on watch outside the camp at all times each night, and at least one person inside the camp. After setting up tents, building fires, and corralling the animals, everyone would sit around a fire and eat Cecilia's decent meals. Durrant would share a round of beer from his oft-replenished kegs and bid Talon to entertain.
Talon was an entertaining young man; perhaps it was his self-denigrating humor. His daily antics were a welcome contrast to the somber group. He would trip, stumble or bobble his load at inappropriate but humorous moments. Everyone knew the clumsiness was a put on since he could juggle very well. He also would take slingshots at rabbits during the march and even managed to hit some; roast rabbit for dinner. He was good with snares and fishing too. Jack warned him against poaching when they crossed some uptight lord's lands. He told jokes, not always that funny, but at least someone was trying. He knew quite a few stories and songs too. Apparently he came from a line of bards; he asked if anyone had heard of the other Windfellows: Konan, Thom, or Dylan. Nobody had. Durrant seemed to appreciate the lad most of all while Spencer probably the least. Talon, and Georan too, were also good at drawing the others into telling tales of their experiences - probably due to their genuine interest.
After the sun set, everyone settled into their own routine. Most would go right to sleep. Jack would arrange the watch with the guards - he usually took first watch. Stellan would check the cargo, wander around making sure everything was in order, and finally crawl into his tent. Sirilyr stayed up studying a book of herbalism - he often went off and collected various plants and roots and things during the day. Spencer usually left Talon mid-performance and read a book by candlelight.
Jack made sure his four guardsmen, Kort, Sirilyr, Dolan, and Karod, sparred or had target practice for at least a half hour each morning and evening. Others were welcome too and most took advantage of the opportunity. It kind of became a running joke since Jack rarely participated himself. When he did however, no one could best him and his aim was true. Kort whispered to the others that he would like to see Jack versus Storn who slung his maces (he had a shorter footman's mace at his side in addition to the one on his horse) well - certainly much better than Brian and his axe.
The twelfth day, they reached the edge of the Duchy of Kulepur, the extent of Duke Fredriech's realm. Kulepur was the largest Duchy in central Brendil and the furthest west. The lands beyond were divided among a large number of petty nobles with loose fealty to the King unlike Fredriech. From here north there was a wide area of wilderness known as the Gnash. The terrain was rocky, wooded, and hilly. Lands to the west were much more arable leaving this swath of terrain dividing central Brendil from northern.
There was a single track north through the Gnash from Dann to the Uryl river valley where a series of manors developed along its fertile plain. The area had been a favorite summer hunting ground for nobles, but as lands became more crowded to the east, the summer palaces became producing manors run by young heirs to elder lords back east. As a result the area was a quilt of interconnected loyalties and nearly always subjected to the economic and political games of the eastern rulers.
This was all discussed over an evening meal when Georan had asked about the dangers along the route to which Durrant produced a list of dreadful beasts to make him cringe. Linda ended up pressing the issue by asking Durrant why he chose to cross the Gnash rather than proceed up the Uryl valley. Rather than huff and ignore her, as some thought he would, and rather than tell her to mind her own business, like the rest thought he would, Durrant actually explained the situation to her and to the others who were listening. He probably was enjoying the fact that he knew something the priestess did not. He explained that each lord had tax and toll authority no matter how small his lands - and there are no common rates. Particularly in Uryl the nobles were whimsy with their taxes. Residing on primarily self-sufficient manors with little need for the trafficking of goods, the myriad of taxes would eat up any profits to be had especially on a long haul like this beyond Uryl to Bilcoven.
The Merchants' Guild had yet to convince a strong enough number of the Lords of Uryl to standardize taxation so for a merchant to make money, it was worth risking the Gnash since most of the lands between Dann in Kulepur and the east were already under Guild influence. Particularly Kulepur where Duke Fredreich did not allow his vassals separate taxing authority. Once through the Gnash they would be in western Uryl and only have three or four fief's to cross before gaining the highlands to Bilcoven, rather than twenty to thirty by coming up the valley directly. "What's a gnoll attack compared to those greedy lords - not to mention the bandits they employ!" Of course that comment did not set well with most, but by now everyone had learned to keep their fears from Durrant's perception.
Crossing the Gnash would likely take close to two
weeks even though the distance was half that that they had traveled so
far. Tulenburg was a small walled town on the edge of the Gnash. It had
formed around a sturdy fortress, one of many in a line along the Gnash
that protect the lands to south from marauding goblinoids and beasts. Such
attacks had become quite rare over the past couple of generations. Everyone
replenished their supplies and refreshed themselves with an extra day of
rest and relaxation.
They came upon the stout town late in the evening.
The gray overcast that had boiled overhead since noon was now darkened.
The unseen setting sun left the landscape in gloomy shadows. The firelit
windows of Tulenburg were a welcome site and everyone was silently thankful
Durrant pushed them on the extra miles. The rain started slowly as they
approached the main gate. The big warm drops had soaked everyone by the
time Durrant had them checked through, the big animals had pulled the carts
into a large, empty warehouse, and the animals were stabled nearby. It
poured then as the darkness of night became complete. Sheets of rain pounded
the walls and roof as the animals were unhitched. Drips became streams
as the leaky roof took on the storm.
"Damn," said Durrant as he looked out through the big doors to the dark street. "Looks like we're all staying here tonight. Unless any of you want to wander around in that mess." He and Jack took torches and began to investigate the building while the others prepared for the night. There were three small offices in one corner that offered a bit more protection from the leaky roof. Durrant of course took one for himself, Jack, and Stellan; he offered the other to the pilgrims, and the last to the Talon, Spencer, and Georan. The storm raged as they ate a late supper; all but Stellan who had disappeared. Durrant passed of any inquiry saying that some business could not wait for storms to pass.
The morning came too soon, but the storm had passed leaving a clear blue sky and cooler temperatures. Jack set a watch schedule and other than that, Durrant said they wouldn't be leaving until the morrow, everyone had some time off. Durrant paid his hirelings for the passed several weeks service so everyone felt like royalty as they went to town with fat pouches.
Jack and Dolan had the morning watch; Karod and Kort
were to watch from noon to evening; Sirilyr and Stellan first watch until
midnight; Storn and Dolan second until dawn. Schedule set, Georan, Karod,
Sirilyr, Talon, and Kort headed out for a day of carrousing the taverns.
Spencer holed up in one of the warehouse offices and worked on his maps;
at some time he went out to replenish his supplies. Brian and Mellody went
off as did Linda and Storn. Stellan had returned after breakfast and he
and Durrant went off somewhere. Cecilia and Wendel went shopping, but returned
before noon and hung around the stables and warehouse the rest of the day.
As evening came Cecilia prepared a meal. Everyone but Stellan and Durrant
had returned to share it. After the meal, a few of the guys headed out
for some evening fun.
Mellody agreed to go with Brian. He could tell
she was still shy, but she had grown to trust him along their journey.
She helped him learn the prayers and rituals Brigantia repected. His acceptance
of her and Linda's faith probably helped her open up to him. She was still
quiet and mistrustful of the merchant and his men. Brian had gotten to
know them better. They were not the crude lot he had suspected when Linda
informed him of her plan to get to Bilcoven. They shared a tasty sweet
morning meal and wandered around the market and eventually exploring some
of the side streets.
Although she did look comfortable, Mellody accompanied Brian quietly. He greeted the townsfolk and struck up conversations with them. He got recommendations for good places to room and board. He found Tulenburg to be quite peaceful. Lord Mayor Driech kept a strong garrison and regularly patrolled the nearby wilds of the Gnash. Only a few caravans crossed the Gnash this summer; seems there have been more attacks of late than in the past. Driech used to patrol along the south half of the trade road, and Lord Ulep the northern; but for some reason, they stopped - left it to the merchants. Ulep built a fortified trade village at the other side of the Gnash they called Uryl Junction. Lightly manned, it was little more than a way station for the caravans. Most of Ulep's serfs lived further north away from the Gnash; most of them had been brought from the east. There did not seem to be any regular correspondence between Tulenburg and Urly Junction.
Brian exchanged his carved ox for a walking tour of Tulenburg. Mellody commented on its quality. Their guide, a friendly old man named Julian, they met while sharing a refreshing brew in a quiet tavern. He took them along the fortress wall to a shady park were a pair of druids taught a group of young children. Then down some windy streets to the new church, built a few years back for Daghdha. Then back through the market and to the east wall where they climbed up a skinny stone stair to the top of a tower. A stolid guard stood watch over the terrain. He did not move as Julian and the couple explored the view from tower.
The green courtyard between the fortress wall and
the fortress proper could be seen. The watchtower rose above the fortress
and the rolling hills of the Gnash could be seen stretching as far as could
be seen to the west and east. A patchwork of crops extended to the east
and ended abruptly at the dark green treeline of the Gnash. To the west,
the town of Tulenburg. An outer wall contained the town that had grown
within. Twisted avenues and tall rickety buildings made the small place
seem much larger. Julian took them down and back to the market where they
picked up some supplies then met the others at the warehouse. That night
Brian began crafting a charm for Mellody.
As usual, Spencer was disappointed with the available
literature. The couple maps he found of the Gnash were quite crude and
probably fictional. He returned from his brief excursion to feed his horse,
himself, then return to his maps.
Sirilyr, Karod, and Kort strong-armed Georan
and Talon to come along with them. They all grabbed some food in the marketplace
and they broke up briefly for some personal shopping. It did not take long
for Sirilyr to find the hang out for the Tulenburg garrison; well known
in military circles as some of the finest soldiers and woodsmen in Brendil.
Once back together, they all spent the rest of the morning swapping tales
with a bunch of guards that just got off the last night watch at Captain
Blades.
Karod and Kort left as the sun reached its highest and the guards drifted away to get some sleep, but Sirilyr kept Georan and Talon with him. They went elsewhere to get some lunch, but returned Captain Blades when they could not find a more interesting crowd. A new set of comrades at arms had come in and Sirilyr and Tarod joined in again. Georan was quite drunk the entire day and slept soundly through the night.
The guards were indeed quite experienced, drunken
exaggerations considered. Seemed eventhough Tulenburg had not been attacked
in ages, the patrols routinely encountered beasts and savages, especially
gnolls. They hunted in packs by night. They never attacked without superior
numbers and mostly at night. They fought with crude weapons, spears, clubs,
stolen swords. There were also tales of gnolls stronger and smarter than
normal, but none of the guards had ever seen such a thing. Of course the
few patrols that had been defeated were attributed to these mysterious
super-gnolls. The three departed as the evening shadows lengthened and
returned to the warehouse.
Cecilia's evening meal was satisfying. A mildly
drunk Talon had fun with the much drunker Georan. Spencer, freshly shaven,
tried to get him to demonstrate his craft; the sauced mage tried but could
not. The others noticed Spencer's condescension although Georan did not.
Drunk and a bit embarrassed the young mage wobbled to the office where
his bedroll lay. Dolan too retired early. Karod, Kort, and a grumpy Spencer
took their leave and went out on the town. Jack waited with Sirilyr for
the tardy Stellan. Cecilia had cleaned up and she and Wendle went to check
the animals and get a more comfortable room. Linda, Storn, and Mellody
headed to their room also, but Brian offered to take Stellan's watch so
Jack could go on about his business. With a glance at Sirilyr, Jack accepted
the offer. He exited into the dark city soon after. Talon stood watch too,
for a while, then joined Georan in slumber.
It was quite late when the Kort and Karod returned. Spencer had gotten a room at an inn and said he would be back in the morning. Brian told them how they were almost jumped down the street. The tired pair crept as quietly they could to their room humbled by Brian's tale. An hour or two later, Sirilyr and Brian roused Dolan and Storn and got to sleep themselves. The smell of Cecilia's cooking woke everyone. Mid-meal Jack, Stellan, and Durrant returned with little explanation. The oxen were retrieved and carts hitched up after breakfast. Spencer returned during the process. He and Durrant reviewed his maps while everything was prepared. Then the procession was on again. The trip out of Tulenburg was much better than the dark and wet trip in. People and kids even stood and watched as they passed like they were some kind of parade. Only the kids seemed to be smiling though.
Outside the town and a good piece down the little used track that led to the Gnash, Durrant announced over lunch that gnoll activity in the Gnash had increased more than he had been told earlier in the summer. Tulenburg's patrols have found signs of them and even encountered packs of them. They patrol at most a couple days from Tulenburg. Durrant had tried to get Driech to send a patrol with them further but was not successful. In short, once outside the patrol area they would be on their own and they would probably be attacked. Gnoll's are nocturnal so night watches would be doubled and everyone was to keep their weapons nearby. They were following a day behind a patrol. With all that uplifting news, the mood became somber.
The sullen caravan proceeded into the Gnash. The terrain quickly became rough with rock outcroppings and gnarled trees. The path wound around the obstacles, along dry streambeds, and through infrequent grassy glades dotted with colorful wildflowers. It was some of the most beautiful scenery anyone had experienced. The landscape did little to put everyone at ease, especially at night when the darkness transformed the land and every noise was that of a beast stalking in the shadows.
The dread of impending attack made the camp a little tighter and everyone a bit more familiar. Talon, fearful to go off on his own to set traps found an escort in Sirilyr. Spencer, Georan, Sirilyr had taken to gathering herbs together. Despite his lack of respect for Georan's untested magic (Georan had cast a light spell that did not overly impress the cynic), Spencer and Georan had Sirilyr's interest in herbalism in common. Spencer still kept to himself in the evenings however; he seemed to have no patience for Talon's antics or the pilgrims' opinions. Everyone else got on well.
They came to a crossroads the third day out from Tulenburg. Durrant said that they were leaving the extent of Tulenburg's patrols. The trail to the north did indeed look much less traveled and had begun to be overgrown. It had been months since the last merchants had passed. The apprehension went up as they entered the true wilderness of the Gnash.
Karod spotted the tracks across the dirt trail a couple days later. It did not take Sirilyr long to find the tell-tale signs left by the gnolls. They were being watched, stalked. Sirilyr guessed there were only a few; they had circled the camp at some distance then retreated before dawn. Jack suggested they were scouts and feared they would come back with their brethren tonight. Durrant dismissed the suggestion to hunt them down. There was no telling how far into the scrub they'd have to go and they were not strong enough to defeat a pack of gnolls if they found them; better to defend on chosen ground.
They discussed strategy as they continued on along
the trail. The attack did not happen that night, nor the next. Each morning
Sirilyr checked for signs but found none, until the third morning. Again
they had been spied upon from the twisted trunks. Again the attack did
not happen that night, nor the next. Everyone was on edge. Each night they
slept lightly expecting to hear to howling attack, each morning they awoke
tired and frustrated almost wishing the attack would come. They had finally
passed the halfway point through the Gnash.
Brian was patrolling along a catwalk along the
perimeter of the warehouse and saw the pair of guards coming down the hill
toward the warehouse. Brian thought to give them a scare but was suddenly
scared himself as a shadowy figure emerged from the shadows behind the
guards. Just as his mind was racing, another figure stepped forth and pulled
the first back between the walls and out of sight. Brian saw Karod glance
back, but there was nothing to see. Karod hurried Kort to the warehouse
when Brian signalled Sirilyr to unlock the door for them.
As the threat of impending attack became certain,
talk turned to how to defend the caravan from a night raid by the gnolls.
Spencer suggests camping on high ground in a clearing. Brian offers to
help clear out the lower branches and shrubs from the perimeter. Brian
explains he could help craft wall shield to offer the archers cover, suggesting
the wagon tailgates. Durrant has a better source: inside the wagons are
four sturdy wood shelves. Spencer also suggests a large fire and Jack adds,
"especially if we can find a camp with limited access." Brian, recalling
Georan's light spell demonstration, asks if the mage could cast the spell
upon a tree to illuminate the approaching enemies. Georan nods but says
it would probably be better to cast it upon on of the gnolls to blind it.
Sirilyr, roughly clapping Talon on the back, suggests setting some traps.
Each night as dusk came, they spent extra time scouting for defensible campsites. In the rocky terrain it was not to difficult to find suitable locals, a bit harder to find one the wagons could negotiate. Typically the animals were corralled against a cliffside and the camp made around them. Until dark Talon and Sirilyr would set traps, Brian cleared the perimeter, and others would collect dry kindling and logs or help extract the shelves by repositioning the heavy chests and heavier chunks of metal. Each morning after the attacks did not come, people would grumble about the waste of time.
One morning, Kort and Karod reported hearing grunts and growls from the forest. Everyone agreed that they were getting bolder. Their numbers must have swelled. In an unusually gentle stretch of terrain, they had to spend extra time finding a defensible camp that day. They found a knoll with few trees against an outcropping of huge boulders. From three sides the gnolls would have to advance up a slight slope in the open. It was the best they could do before darkness fell. It was a couple hours into the night before the defenses were made. After an uninteresting meal, the watch was set, and everyone else bedded down.
A high pitched help of pain ripped through the dark
overcast night first. One of the traps found a victim. Dolan and Karod
called out the warning then. A burst of adrenaline drove the fitful sleepers
into swift action. Kort, Sirilyr, and Brian took position behind the left
flank's shelf. Stellan, Dolan, and Karod along two shelves at the front.
Jack and Durrant on the right flank. Talon, Spencer, and Georan remained
in the center waiting for the charge. Storn stood watch on the left rear
flank to protect the priestesses. Amazingly, the party was in position
just as the gnolls were leaving the line of underbrush and branches Brian
had cleared. The arrows and bolts began flying. The wave of gnolls charged
on through the volley.
One evening after dinner, Sirilyr walked over
to the elder priestess Linda. "Beggin' your pardon ma'am. I know I've not
been the most talkative of a travelin' companions to you and yours on this
trip. But, I've a favor to ask of ye." Pausing a moment before continuing,
"I'd be most obliged if ye would do me the kindness of a blessing, and
should something ill befall me, for you to light a candle for me on the
Equinox. That's all ma'am, nothing too untoward given our circumstances,
it's just I feel a fear in the pit o' me stomach tonight which I'd almost
forgotten." Linda smiles kindly and rises to offer Brigantia's blessing,
Sirilyr knelt to accept the blessing and spent a moment of prayer for just
a small bit of luck in what he plans to do.
As his watch ended at midnight, Sirilyr quietly whispered to his replacement with a tight grin, "I've got a feeling they're close tonight, watch the outer perimeter well." Sirilyr then walked to his bed hidden deep in the shadows of a fallen tree. Once there, he stripped off his armor, cloak, and helm. When he wore no more than his high soft boots, doeskin trousers, cloth slop and leather jerkin, he restrapped on his belt with a single pouch containing an oil flask, his full waterbag, and rag wrapped flint and steel. He tucked a dagger in his boot, his hatchet in the back of his belt, taking up his longsword in his right hand and his bow and four arrows in his left, he quickly and quietly crawled along the deep shadow of the fallen tree into the woods edge. Once he was concealed in the treeline, Sirilyr emptied half of his waterbag into a small depression he had quickly scooped in the earth. He took the mud he had made and began spreading it across his face, neck, and hands thoroughly to provide camouflage and to cool his body heat. He looked up at the night sky and whispered to himself and whatever Gods were listening, "If it not be your pleasure to help me in this small matter, then please do not hinder me." With that done and leaving the waterbag there, Sirilyr slowly crept along the ground towards where the Gnoll's patterns of the last few days told him there should be gnolls waiting.
Sirilyr crouched silently in the underbrush waiting for the first patrol to arrive at the far end of the gnolls' circuit. He lost track of time, but a pair did show up. They crept quietly along the forest too. They passed by out of Sirilyr's reach and did not take the cover Sirilyr thought they would; he had to creep along behind them aways before they stopped for cover. One of them scurried up a tree with surprising dexterity for the big creatures. The other remained at the base of the tree. Sirilyr crept close enough to smell the foul odor of the gnolls' mangy fur. The pop and crackle of the party's large campfire could be heard and Sirilyr knew there were only a few tens of feet to where he and Talon's traps waited.
The treed gnoll finally settled in a good position for Sirilyr to embed and arrow in the right side of its head, hopefully fatally. Sirilyr carefully prepared for the shot and loosed his blades for the coming lunge at the gnoll at the base of the tree. The arrow hit home but that is all Sirilyr waited to see before dropping the bow and leaping at the other gnoll and driving his blades into it. The treed gnoll thudded to the ground rather loudly as the other slumped off the blades. Sirilyr was not sure how long it would be before the next pair showed up so he quickly got on the way back along the perimeter to find the next pair.
The next time did not go so smoothly. They had set
up the same and Sirilyr went through the motions, but the treed gnoll had
scrambled away. Sirilyr could hear it stumbling noisily, grunting and growling
away. He paused; it would probably alert the others before he could silence
it. He decided to be contented with three and hoped the forth did not alert
the party's watch. He removed the ears, eyes, and tongues from his prey
and snuck quietly though the dark woods to the trail a few hundred yards
back the way they came. There he watch and listened for awhile to be sure
the beasts were not around then quickly made a pile of the fifteen organs
and set it ablaze. Making his way warily back to the spot where he had
made his mud puddle, he took the other half of his water and washed the
night's gore from himself. Once again gathering his gear and crawling quietly
along the comforting shadows to the out-of-the-way tree trunk he had claimed
for his bed and to the warmth of his blanket and cloak. The next morning,
Kort said to Sirilyr, "You were right. I heard them last night grunting
to each other. They're gettin' ready. I kin feel it."
Sirilyr launched arrow after arrow at the advancing
gnolls not pausing long enough to see them strike home. As they neared
and as planned, he readied his blades and moved between Kort and Brian
so they could continue shooting. Four gnolls were running to the gap between
the wooden barriers. Sirilyr glanced at Dolan ready to defend the other
side. Then the melee began. Two gnolls nearly barreled him over, but Sirilyr
stayed his ground. He parried and attacked the two. He felt their heavy
clubs strike him, but he fought on. He glimpsed Dolan go down and saw the
victorious gnoll charging his way. In a surge of fear and anger, his blow
dropped one of his assailants. He heard Linda shout "Stop!" from close
by then all went black after a white flash and throbbing pain.
Karod had been on watch for about an hour when
he heard the yelp followed by a flurry of coarse growls and grunts like
the ones he had heard the night before. But this time they did not stop.
He heard the calls spread from their origin to encircle the campsite. He
shouted to wake the others then the distant forest shadows became alive.
He went to his place at the right end of the front shelf-shield and watched
as the gnolls advanced. Arrows and bolts flew from their camp at the approaching
dark shapes. He tried to count them, but his nerves prevented him. He saw
a few drop, but soon they were upon him and his thoughts concentrated on
using his blade to keep himself alive.
Three gnolls were bashing at him with heavy wood clubs enhanced with sharp stones. He managed to keep them at bay. His shield and armor took most of the blows but he knew it was only a matter of time before they would wear him down. He fought on. He arms already ached. He knew he drew blood but did not have time to evaluate before fending off the blows of others. Suddenly he found himself on the ground. A bright flash of light, then nothing.
A feeling of peace came over Karod, but then reality came back with a rush of pain. His eyes opened to see Mellody kneeling overhim. Just behind her stood two gnolls; for some reason they were ignoring her. She said lightly to him, "Fight if you can," then was gone. Karod noticed then that the two gnolls were blinded and had dropped their weapons. He hurt, but it was not too bad, so Karod pushed himself to his feet. He scooped up his blade and drove it into the nearest gnoll. It was a good blow to the torso but did not strike any vital organs. The blinded creature yelped and tore itself of the blade. It then blindly assaulted Karod who easily kept the creature at bay. At least until the second gnoll joined in.
It had apparently regained its sight, and its stone
shard encrusted club. Karod was quickly on the defensive as the beasts
pounded on him. Despite his efforts, he could not manage to land any blows.
The other gnoll regained its sight and as its comrade beat Karod and his
shield with blow after blow it retrieved its club. Bruised and tired, it
was moments before the gnolls' had bested the well-armored human. Karod
felt his breath knocked out, but did not feel himself hit the ground.
Brian crouched behind the shelf and launched
bolt after bolt at the advancing gnolls. They did not slow. It was not
long before Sirilyr and Storn had engaged the beastmen at each end of the
shelf. Kort and himself kept shooting. Brian heard a female voice cry "Stop!"
and he looked over to see gnoll running at Kort suddenly stop. Kort placed
an arrow solidly in the beast followed by a bolt from Brian; it dropped.
Brian heard a shout and looked over to see Spencer falling and a gnoll
charging Georan. He sent a bolt toward the gnoll and it found home just
after Georan stabbed the thing solidly in the chest. Sirilyr was down and
Linda was helping him. There were no more gnolls on their side, but Stellan
and Georan were fighting off a pair. Brian kept launching bolts until the
battle ended with Brian, Kort, and Talon helping Storn and Jack take down
the last two gnolls.
Talon quickly got into action with his sling.
He launched stone after stone into the advancing gnolls seeing several
strike, but none slowed the advance. Talon watched as Karod, Jack, and
Durrant met the advance of three gnolls each. Their blades flashed as they
batted away club blow after club blow. Talon carefully targeted the engaged
gnolls. Suddenly a gnoll leapt over the shelf between Jack and Durrant
and came at him. He slung a stone at it as he backed off. A glowing missile
flew by and struck the beast in the face but it still came at him. A panic
started to boil up when Spencer darted by and engaged the thing. Talon
backed of further to get some more stones off.
Spencer crumpled after a solid blow, but the gnoll
was now focused on Georan who had just launched another flash of light
in the other direction. Talon called out to Georan as the thing ran at
him; Talon's stone missing the charging creature. Georan turned and drew
his dagger just in time to slice and stab the surprised gnoll. As it fell
Georan looked just as surprised. Another gnoll was advancing on Georan
from behind. Talon could see it had leapt over the fallen armored body
of Karod. The other two that Karod had been fighting were pawing at their
eyes. Spencer saw the thing and managed to block its blow to Georan's back.
Georan spun then and fitfully swung his blade around defensively. Talon
started slinging stones at it. Stellan was knocked off his feet with a
curse then Georan went down. Talon hit the thing squarely as it looked
over
Georan's body for a new target. It dropped. Talon turned to see Durrant
down and Spencer back up and fighting with a gnoll. Talon started slinging
to help his wounded companion. A gnoll broke passed Karod and charged Talon
dealing him a staggering blow. Storn walloped the thing and Talon got back
to launching stones. It took a couple arrows and a solid hit from Talon
before the gnoll on Spencer went down but not before it brought Spencer
down again. Then the fighting was over when Brian, Kort, and Talon helped
Storn and Jack take down the last two gnolls.
Spencer got into position behind Sirilyr, Kort,
Dolan, Stellan, and Karod when the gnolls attacked. He watched as they
boiled from the darkness and up the slope toward them. Fear built as he
watched them advance undaunted by the barrage of arrows and bolts. Suddenly
the camp was surrounded with melee. Would they hold? Then across the camp,
a gnoll leapt over the shelf between Jack and Durrant. Talon had seen it
and was sling a stone its direction. Georan was looking at it too and suddenly
a bolt of energy sprung out and hit the advancing gnoll on the face. Georan
had turned but the gnoll had not stopped. Talon had missed it too and was
backing off. Spencer ran by Georan who had not seen the gnoll yet. Spencer
jabbed at the gnoll with his staff and only managed to take its attention
off of Georan. It swung its club and beat Spencer's clumsey defense. Spencer
felt the pain as the rock-encrusted club smashed his shoulder and send
him toppling to his side when all went black.
Spencer awoke to Mellody's face. She smiled at him
then looked up and darted away with a look of concern on her face. It took
a moment for Spencer to get his bearings and get to his feet. Durrant was
still battling off three gnolls. The one that had attacked him lay on the
ground a few feet away. Durrant was bleeding and tired he would fall soon
and there was no one else between the gnolls and himself. Spencer advanced
on one of the gnolls. His staff blows did not seem to bother the beast.
Jack was there beside him just as Durrant went down taking one of the gnolls
with him. Against the fury of the gnoll's now undivided attention, Spencer
was unable to fend off the blows and once again was knocked out.
Georan had gone over and over his plans in his
head. He thought he was ready but he was totally unprepared for the reality.
The woods all around the camp exploded with gnolls. They ran at the camp
from all three sides. They definitely outnumbered the defenders several
to one. Fear boiled in Georan's head. They horror stories Durrant tormented
him with seemed close now. He could see the beastly, grotesque features
of the gnolls as they ran up the hill. The arrows and bolts did not slow
them. Suddenly all around the soldiers were embattled, fending off many
gnolls each. Georan looked around and suddenly snapped. A gnoll hoped the
shelf between Jack and Durrant. It ran straight for Talon, still slinging
rocks but backing away. Georan quickly crafted the magic energy of a small
missile and sent it at the advancing beast. He heard the yelp and saw both
Durrant and Jack with three gnolls each. If he could get the right angle
his color spray could take them down so he moved that way.
Suddenly Spencer ran by him and engaged the gnoll that had broken through. Panicked, Georan looked around. Talon had dropped back and was slinging stones at the gnoll too. To the left Georan watched as a gnoll whacked Karod hard, and, almost in slow motion, Karod went down. Georan looked up at three glaring dog headed gnolls, teeth barred. Almost without thinking, Georan cast the color spray at them. They dropped their clubs and grabbed at their eyes. Georan heard a yell nearby and turned to see Spencer crumpling to the ground. The gnoll with a serious burn on the side of its face was looking at Georan squarely. It them raised its head and howled before charging at Georan who fumbled to pull out his dagger. By some shear luck the charging beast ran into the blade. Surprised, it paused and unthinking Georan stabbed the blade home again. It toppled over leaving the bloody blade tightly gripped in the mage's hand.
An angry howl jerked Georan around to face a gnoll.
Stellan had managed to prevent it from clubbing Georan from behind. Georan
and Stellan managed to fend of the beast's attacks until the other gnoll
on Stellan got in a good blow. Stellan's shout startled Georan and he was
suddenly knocked out by a swift blow to the gut.
After the battle, Jack slew the wounded gnolls
cleared the bodies with Kort and Brian while and Linda, Mellody, Talon,
Cecilia, and Wendle tended to the wounded and unconscious. Dolan, Stellan,
Karod, and Durrant had been seriously wounded. Only Brian, the priestesses,
Wendle and Cecilia had escaped injury. Despite Jack's concerns of another
attack, the barely conscious Durrant ordered them to stay the day. Everyone
but Stellan regained consciousness sometime during the day. Spencer and
Georan helped Linda and Mellody tend to the wounded. Sirilyr learned quite
a bit from watching the healers in action.
The next morning the priestesses perform healing rituals on the more seriously wounded. Stellan regained consciousness but was unable to get around. Fearing another night at the site of battle would bring another attack or attract scavengers, the battered party packed up and headed down the trail once again. Through the divine healing of Brigantia's priestesses, the party's wounds were healed over the next few days. As a paladin of Daghdha, Storn was also blessed with healing powers. There was no sign of gnolls on the rest of the journey, but the party's guard was never let down.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Spencer came down from a hill and announced he had seen the Uryl valley ahead. With lifted spirits the caravan made its way down and out of the Gnash and into the gentle slopes of the Uryl valley. That night they made it to Uryl Junction. It was a dreary collection of warehouses surrounded by a wooden stockade reinforced with earth. The only inn was empty and the common room held a few off duty guards. Durrant let everyone relax the next day, it was the Equinox, before setting off across the valley to their goal, Bilcoven.
As everyone recovered from the battle with the gnolls, its seemed there was universal interest in one thing primarily, Georan and his feats of magic. The young mage cast two spells. The first one, Spencer had glimpsed when he saw the gnoll charge between Jack and Durrant, was a magic missile. A knot of magic energy the mage directed to its target. The second spell was a color spray. It was a fan of brightly colored light that managed to blind the three gnolls that had just knocked Karod down. If not for that spell, those three would have broken to the center and made short work of Georan, Talon, and Spencer then have had free reign to get at everyone else from behind. Despite Spencer's attempt to keep the one from Georan, it managed to get by charge the mage just after the color spray spell. As much as the spells impressed the others, so did the fact that Georan managed to draw his dagger and stab it good.
After Georan's successful display of combat spells,
the cynical map-maker Spencer became enamoured with the young mage. Spencer
not only asked Georan about it, but talked with anyone else who saw the
feat. Initially happy to impress, Georan finally had to put an end the
Spencer's demand for information by saying, "I cannot explain to you the
workings of magic in a few words. If you wish me to teach you my art you
will have to wait till I settle down and decide to take on an apprentice,
which will be many years from now. It took me two and a half years of study
to cast my first cantrip, I cannot teach you anything on the road." Spencer
had to be satisfied with the information he got.
The thirty-some residents of Uryl Junction had
prepared a community celebration the Fall Equinox, the Feast of Avalon.
No one failed to notice that Brian and Mellody spent the day close to each
other, she wore the carving they had seen Brian working on around her neck.
Although happy to share their harvest and very pleased to have the priestesses
of Brigantia present, Durrant's crew felt every bit the outsiders that
they were. The food and wine was good though, and the festivities continued
long into the night when the local druid led the Ritual of Mabon in the
small cemetery outside of town to close the celebration. Late the next
morning with their thanks given and respects paid to those that had gone
to Avalon the past year, the caravan headed north once again. The road
paralleled a tributary of the Uryl river.
The fourth day out, Durrant had brought them to the broad Uryl. The ferrymaster seemed to know Durrant; they exchanged pleasantries but he had nothing to say to the rest of Durrant's crew. It took a while for the ferrymen to get the heavy load to the other side, but they did. It was only a short walk to the next town, Hirr. It was little more than a walled manor village atop a gentle hill. The view back across the Uyrl was spectacular in the late day sun. No one would realize it until later, but it was that night that marked the beginning of a subtle change in attitudes that steadily worsened as the caravan made its way to Bilcoven. Hirr boasted of a good size inn for the convenience of those crossing the river.
On the southern side of the river, the serfs and others folks they encountered had been friendly and interested in the unusual late season caravan. At Hirr in the smoky common room of the Boatsman's Inn, a huge wooden building that dominated the cramped alleyways, the folks seemed uninterested after Bilcoven was mentioned. The subject was quickly changed. No townsfolk watched the caravan pack up and leave as they usually had south of here. At the time no one really noticed it; passing off behavior in their minds as the some quirk of the town. Hirr's lands were quite fertile, but other than a few storage barns there was not a farmhouse in sight. For whatever reason there was obviously not many free holders in this region. Only a few hours down the road the fields were left behind and the wilds closed in.
The evening left them in the middle of it. Memories of the Gnash were all too fresh. As if sent to frighten them, a pack of wolves crept up on the camp. Karod spotted them slinking in the shadows and roused the other guards. The wolves made toward the camp, but the guards threatening with torches quickly drove them away. The wilds gave way to more cultivated fields the next day. A weatherworn sign by the road announced that this was Tolind. By evening they had come to the manor.
Much smaller than Hirr, the caravan had to camp outside the cluster of structures. The lord's mansion loomed across a grassy field. Wisps of evening fog drifted across the picturesque scene. As they set camp, a small unit of horsemen formed beside the mansion and came to them. Their leader spoke with Jack and Durrant; as usual the two were invited to the mansion and left the rest to the chilly autumn night. There was a small tavern mixed in with the peasant's homes.
The Smiling Cat seemed cozy and welcoming on the outside, but the patrons from afar soon found it that not to be the case. The murmur of voices abruptly stopped leaving the crackle and infrequent pop of a large fire the only comforting sound in the place. There were about eight locals staring at the outsiders who shuffled and clanked noisily to an open table. The serving girl looked nervous and whispered something to the portly man who was wiping mugs. He nodded to the girl and approached the small group himself, the others watching intently.
"Welcome travelers," he said putting a grin on his lips, "You are an unexpected blessing on my small establishment." Noticing his new customers questioning looks he added, "Don't mind them. Its been a few months since they seen outsiders. They musta forgot their manners. What can I gitcha?" On his way back across the room he waved his arms at the silent patrons. They stopped their staring and commenced hushed conversations involving several glances at the strangers.
The orders were filled by the nervous young girl. All but a couple of the locals left while their food was eaten and drinks swallowed. From these two not much was gleaned despite efforts to break through their stoicism. The most that could be pieced together was that the people of Tolind were suspicious of or upset about whatever lie to the north of them, and whoever headed that direction was assumed to be a part of the problem.
Pocard, the proprietor, explained a little more once the pair had had enough prodding. Lord Cinclair, despite the miles between them, insisted on controlling trade through his lands. Cinclair sat on a crossroads and was the northernmost port on the Duer. His aggressive policies have made him rich and powerful beyond any of the other Lords. A small fief like Tolind was completely at Cinclair's mercy. As for the rest, its just superstition and rumor borne of the resentment. Pocard did not elaborate any more on these superstitions and rumors.
That night the watchmen kept seeing shadowy figures watching the caravan from the dark nooks and alleys between the nearby buildings. They quickly disappeared when investigated. A pair of Tolind's guards wandered over. When the figures were pointed out to them they laughed and said it was probably some of the local serf's. They'd be harmless as long as a couple of armed guards were around. Otherwise they'd steal what they could. The guards went over and chased them off before they meandered to wherever it was that they went. The want-to-be thieves returned shortly thereafter.
Durrant and Jack came across the glistening dew covered meadow with a pair of soldiers soon after sunrise. Neither looked pleased at all. Durrant called Stellan over and the two of them entered the lead wagon. After a few minutes they emerged with a heavy sack of coins that was handed to a soldier. When the Tolinders were back across the meadow Durrant ranted and cursed as his caravan prepared to leave. They left Tolind behind and entered another long stretch of wooded wilds. Apparently Durrant had learned of Cinclair also and new it would be a problem not only financially, especially after the outrageous tolls, tax, and fees Lord Tolind extracted, but also politically.
Durrant's mood was gruff the next few days, and even Talon's antics did not please him. They finally emerged from the woods to look upon a shallow valley of farmlands. A small river wandered in from the haze to the north where a rocky ridge could barely be seen. A good-sized town sat on the sound bank of the river. Intricate wood scaffolds were erected at various spots around the town indicated a great deal of new construction. Lord Cinclair's palace sat southeast of his town, a newly constructed wall ringing the grounds. The road zigzagged down the steep ridge to the valley floor and wandered to the town. Two other roads left; one crossed the river to the northeast and the other paralleled it to the southeast. A large barge floated from behind the town down river. Bilcoven lay on the other side of the distant ridge to the north, Stellan announced as they prepared to descend the slope.
Once at the bottom, they stopped for lunch. After
the meal, Durrant and Stellan went through the rigors of paying their hirelings.
Everyone would have a purse full for an extended stay in Cinclair. Durrant
explained that it would probably take a few days to negotiate with the
Lord for acceptable costs of passage. Durrant would pay for a house and
Cecilia would still cook for everyone. Other arrangements could be made
but Durrant "ain't paying for it." It was a few hours trek to the thick
fresh wood gates of Cinclair.
It was quite obvious that most of Cinclair was
only a couple years old or younger. A bevy of bureaucrats ushered and directed
the caravan from the gates to the warehouse district - a work in progress.
Two large buildings with sturdy doors and the foundation of a third were
surrounded by a low wall patrolled by uniformed soldiers. The wagons were
pulled into one of the buildings. Unlike Tulenburg the place was packed
with crates, carts, boxes, and sacks. There were a few guards watching
over various piles; obviously hired men by their various garb. Uniformed
Cinclairian guards watched from atop platforms at each corner of the large
building. Durrant was welcomed to leave his own guards as he declared his
inventory. Not liking his goods unguarded, Durrant told Jack to assign
someone to watch at all times.
The animals were herded back outside and down the street to a stable and the group made its was to a nearby square. Durrant, Stellan, and Jack took their leave to find a place to stay for everyone. They would come back in two hours, just before sunset to show everyone where the place was. They left and so did most everyone else to either find their own lodging or find a place for some drinking and entertainment. All the construction had brought allot of folks from out of town and places to let were hard to find. There were a few in the handful of inns around town, but they were not cheap.
Stellan met the others back at the square. They too had trouble finding a place, but managed to find one in the old part of town. It was a small warehouse that now only housed Jate's Bate and Tackle store in the front section. The rest was filled with boats and rafts. Out the backdoor of the place a dock extended into the river which widened into a small lake next to Cinclair. From the dock, a little ways upstream much newer docks lined with barges could be seen. The shop's proprietor built an apartment for himself above the store. For what Durrant was paying, he and his family found other accommodations.
There were not enough beds for everyone, but there was plenty of room in the warehouse to throw down bedrolls. There was also a couple firepits that indicated this was not first time the building housed guests. Over the next few days everyone made themselves comfortable. There were plenty of goods and services for sale and everyone had plenty of opportunity for shopping. Provisions were stocked up, weapons and armor patched and repaired, and the bruises and soreness that never seemed to go away while on the road finally vanished.
In the meadow north of town, a warrior held fighting lessons and sparring tourneys that passed the time for some. Jate ran his shop during the day and got to know some of the group. The guards posted at the warehouse became friends with some of the other hired guards. When folks found out that they were headed to Bilcoven they got strange looks on their faces. Almost everyone reported the same reaction. Even Linda and her three companions had tried to find a group headed to Bilcoven before Durrant would be ready to leave. Strangely, no one was headed that way so they decided to wait for Durrant who had not been seen in a few days. Jack occasionally showed up at the warehouse, but did not stay long. They were staying at an inn on the south side of town.
Two things seemed to fuel the anxiety about Bilcoven. A gang of bandits was robbing travelers along the only road to Bilcoven. They had been operating for years, despite a huge bounty. Lord Cinclair denies it, but they are rumored to have defeated a couple of platoons sent after them. Only well guarded caravans venture up that road. The second more disturbing rumor was that a curse had been laid on Bilcoven. No one that would talk about it knew how long ago it started, but all the rumors of the curse were the same. Outsiders in Bilcoven wound up dead.
It was a touchy subject with the Cinclairians, but those that were made to talk about it could not recall anyone that dared take up residence in the remote Marchy. The merchants that went, infrequently of course, never stayed more than few nights. It had been so long that they could neither recall anyone that was actually killed in Bilcoven. Of course most Cinclairians that talked about the curse had only come to Cinclair in the last few years.
As word spread around town that the newcomers were bound for Bilcoven for the winter, reactions changed. People on the street would avoid eye contact and hurry away while signing themselves. The tavern became less fun as few would want to spend time with the damned ones. If they were not so serious about it the reactions were almost comical. But they were serious so it served to put them all on edge. Even Jate and the couple of guards they befriended acted a bit differently as the town slowly turned on them. They were still friendly, but they were not quite as warm as they were initially.
It turned out that Durrant was experiencing the same attitudes. He came by one evening and explained that one way or the other Lord Cinclair would extract his money. Rather than sell Cinclair his goods, Durrant agreed to the tax and to hire a troop of soldiers to accompany them to the edge of Bilcoven. He was heavily cautioned against this course of action of course. Durrant announced they would leave the day after next. He advised that everyone should get their winter gear here since it was likely all this hullabaloo about bandits and curses would make things scarce and expensive in Bilcoven.
Everyone at some time or other on the streets, in
the taverns, or elsewhere, was approached by an old woman dressed in dirty
rags. She was selling charms to thwart the curse of Bilcoven. A young man,
equally shabby, accompanied her and pulled a two wheeled small cart covered
with dirty canvases. The ugly woman smiled and showed her crooked and rotting
teeth as she offered them the enchantment and the warning that the curse
was real. She was not pushy and wandered off when her wares were refused.
Slipping a pair of silvers into the gnarled thin
hand of the worn old woman, Sirilyr smiled as he accepted the charm from
her other hand as they stood under the front awning of a tavern. "Thank
ye' ma'am, here's a silver for you and your lad there. One can't be too
careful with curses now, can one? You wouldn't happen to know anything
about the bandits that have been said to be roaming 'round 'tween here
an Bilcoven now, would ye? Like why has no-one ever collected that big
bounty?" Smiling as he held two more silvers warily out of site of any
passer by.
"They brought it!" The woman snapped suddenly, her friendly demeanor suddenly becoming angry and intense. Her eyes, oddly clear and white, stared deeply into Sirilyr's. "I know not how, but the two are the same. They's more'n brigands in them hills. That's why you need my magic; that's why no sword has stopped'm." She stopped and the ferocity left her eyes. She smiled and said pleasantly, "you go there and you see." She eyed the coins and Sirilyr let them slip into her clutch.
"What needs be done for a sword to stop 'em, lass?"
She looked into Sirilyr's eyes for a moment. "The weapons of men are weak. It's the weapons of Mathonwy you need." She turned her back and the odd pair trugged away. Sirilyr watched them as he thought about what the weapons of the god of sorcery were.
"By the way, what's in yer cart lad?" Sirilyr called
before they got to far away. The woman hit the boy and they continued on
without a word.
The hag came up in conversation one evening.
Surprisingly enough, everyone present had encountered her at some time
and, when questioned later, those that had been on duty at the time had
too. Linda immediately dismissed the woman and her charms with a sharp
glance and Brian and Mellody. That killed the conversation, but later after
the ladies had go to sleep, Brian approached Georan and Spencer who were
having one of their "what's the nature of magic" discussions that never
produced any answers. Brian produced one of the old woman's charms. Despite
Mellody's protest, Brian had bought it the other evening. It was a copper
circle, a punched coin, with a stem or root intricately knotted about it
and two small parallel twigs on either side of the circle.
Spencer engages in a brief fit of laughter. "Well, if there's one thingI and your priestess seem to agree on, it's that repulsive crone and her foolish bric-a-brac. What would your wee maiden say to this?" After a few more chuckles, "Come now, throw that stupid thing away and you can help me out a bit. I want to buy some stiff leather and yours seems rather nice. Can you explain to me the finer points of armour and help me find a good set for the road?"
Georan takes the charm from Brian with a brief roll of his eyes at Spencer. Ignoring the attempt to change the subject, Brian explains to Georan, "I bought the charm in order to gain the trust of the old hag and see what she knew. Since I am protected by Brigantia, I have no use for it, and I would like to give it to you so you may study it. That, and I want to keep Mellody happy...I've grown quite fond of her and she was upset with me for buying it."
Georan examined the trinket carefully, "I do not see any obvious runes or magical symbols though the twigs might suggest something of a druidical origin. That is," he smiled, "if it does anything at all. There is one spell which I was planning to cast next time I see the old woman, a spell that allows me to see the magical aura of an item, but it will not necessarily be of help. There are kind's of magic it will not reveal, such as faith magic for example. Anyways. Lets avoid too much theory." Georan glanced around to make sure if they were alone and once again turned his attention to the trinket. Placing it on the table he muttered a few words in an arcane tongue and made a strange gesture. By looking closely one could see a slight golden rim around Georan's pupils as he examined the charm.
"Wait," Georan says without taking his eyes off the trinket. "I think our crone has something of the craft. It is not strong, but some sort of spell has been placed on it."
Spencer's tone changes after Georan lends his approval to the charm. "Hmf...little do I understand of your art, but I cannot deny what I have seen. There's something to't, you've convinced me of that. But what does this thing do, then?"
"Ahh now that is the interesting question." Georan paused to looked at Brian and Spencer and make sure he has their attention. He then looked around once more to make sure no one was near. In a low voice he said, "The answer to your question is very simple... I have absolutely no idea of what this charm does!" Georan grinned and added, "There is a spell I could cast on it but I am loath to use it. It is a spell whose only copy I have is on a scroll and casting it will destroy the scroll. What I will do is seek the old lady on the morrow and have a word with her. Perhaps she can tell me something of interest and allow me to cast my spell so that I may see if any of her other charms are of magic nature. 'Til then I would ask of you not to mention this to the others. I would not want anyone running after the woman 'til I can have my words with her."
Brian explained that the woman was probably insane. When he asked her some questions about the curse and Bilcoven she got all serious and spooky; she stopped blinking and stared at him intensely with old and strangely clear bugged out eyes. She did tell him that the bandits brought the curse with evil magic; that they had released some great beast not meant for this world. Her charms would keep it at bay, but if they stayed in Bilcoven it would overwhelm them. She was not more specific.
Spencer says, "Evil curses, unnatural beasts and a charm which wards them off? Bah...I can still think of a dozen more likely scenarios. Even if we assume the curse exists, the hag's wares may not affect it. What say you, Georan? Have you heard of such cursing magic before? Had I never met you I'd still be laughing at the notion...it still seems far-fetched to me. Hmf, I'll ne'er be happy 'til I understand this magic business. I hope you get something out of that crazy hag the morrow."
Georan looked at Spencer and answered, "Then you'll never be happy 'til you're an archmage; for magic is not a thing to be understood with only a few years of study."
When the conversation turned from the device, Spencer
reminded Brian of his question about the armour. "I'm not much of a warrior,
really, more of a craftsman by trade, but that means I can recognize an
honest deal when I see one. There are those who take pride in their trade
and those who do not. You must look at the way a man keeps his shop. A
good craftsman will have his shop busy but well kept, with no big display
of his wares in front. He will invite you into his workroom and discuss
the job with you. The shop with the fancy display out front and a closed
door to the workroom is where you meet someone who is more of a salesman
- hard to say what you would get from him." They make plans to go armor
shopping. Brian explains that he is having his own armor reinforced, and
has been scouting the town for good smithies and armorers - in between
the odd carpentry jobs he is working.
Spencer visited some of the public offices around
town. Mostly he was ignored; mainly the minor clerks were too busy, but
Spencer could detect that they really did not want to talk him anyway.
It was strange how quickly the news of their destination has spread throughout
the town. He was able to learn a few things about Cinclair despite the
attitudes. A few people referred him to the druid, Gendle, one of if not
the oldest citizen of Cinclair. No having much luck elsewhere, Spencer
reluctantly found Gendle's garden. The oasis of greenery in the center
of the old town was deserted, or so it seemed at first. Spencer came upon
the old man under a shelter of ivy.
Gendle welcomed him under the roof and they conversed for quite some time. Cinclair did not begin as a the summer hunting grounds as did many of the places along the upper Uryl. Cinclair, originally Valeford, began as a way station for merchants using the river before the roads were cleared. Essentially a part of Bilcoven, Valeford grew larger as Bilcoven's population grew. There were six villages up there now. A rugged forest land, Bilcoven could not feed its people without the grains of this valley. Valeford was run by merchants until Lord Cinclair came four years ago to answer the mayors call for help. The bandits had virtually closed the lifeline.
There were plenty of rumors about Cinclair and the bandits; not a few of them place them in league. No one knows what really happened, but his company had been able to open the road. Since, he has controlled trade in and out of Bilcoven. He apparently holds Bilcoven and the neighboring manors - who traditionally made extra money selling the northerners produce - by the groin. No one is rich enough to challenge him; but that has not stopped him from raising walls. No one is sure where his money comes from; Spencer was not alone in doubting the local commerce could support such undertakings. The coins were real enough though. The true population of Cinclair has not increased much; most of the recent population growth is due to the craftsmen and laborers (probably runaway peasants) hired to fortify the town.
As for the curse, only Gendle spoke of it. He explained that the common belief, not wholly untrue, that to speak of evil it invites it. He is unsure of its genesis, but believes it pre-dates the bandits. Over the years there has been several disappearances and unsolved murders in Bilcoven. Most were strangers to Bilcoven, there under unknown auspices. Gendle admits that he hopes Spencer and his companions return in the spring to ease the misplaced fears. Despite his support, Gendle does not deny that there may be something sinister about the curse.
Later that afternoon, Spencer came upon Linda praying on the pier behind their leased warehouse. She studied him a few moments before she responded to his queries. "You are an unusual man Spencer. Your doubts are fair, but It is true that we come to Bilcoven to spread Brigantia's blessings. Consider though that all truths have many facets. As mortals we do not see the whole jewel that is Truth. There is but one chapel in Bilcoven; ill equipped to counter evils such as this curse. Perhaps this is why I have been called here. Along the way we have helped many, Durrant and company not the least. Trust in the path before you and do good Spencer." There seemed to be a hint of worry in the priestesses eyes.
Spencer politely says, "I don't doubt your word.
I was merely interested in what you know of Bilcoven and your reasons for
going, and you have answered both of my queries. Thank you."
The next day Georan could not find the woman
and her weird, quiet sidekick. He had practically given up as he ate a
cold lunch at an inexpensive cafe. He accidentally saw her coming down
the street. He got up to go to her and soon realized that she was headed
toward him. Her dirty rags swayed as her hunched figure lurched down the
street. Georan noticed the few people who were about took care to avoid
her path. As he waited for her to get near him, a chill ran up his spine
when he realized not only was she coming toward him, to right to him. Her
eyes were fixed on him, and she worn a friendly smile that didn't look
quite natural. She came upon him and raised her hand from a shabby pocket.
A familiar charm rested in her wrinkled palm. "I think I have what your
looking for sonny," she announced.
Georan smiled at the old lady and replied, "Aye, a part you have but I am also looking for an opportunity to discuss with you. Matters of the craft we share and the curse I have heard of." The last sentence Georan delivered in a soft and more serious tone. Then despite Brian's warning, Georan was surprised by the sudden change in the woman. The pasted on smile vanished instantly, her brows furled, and her eyes bugged out at him. He felt them staring into him, her dark blue irises piercing him, the extraordinarily clear whites of her eyes almost glowing. The pasty and blotched skin surrounding the orbs looked oddly too old for the intense soulful organs.
"A young wizard eh?" She continued studying him. "You are in danger there. The dark tendrils of evil seek those of the craft. You know my charms are true. Buy it, buy it! But don't forget to pray for you soul for this curse is deeper and darker than any man - wizard or no." She forced out her hand with the charm. Georan saw as her rags fell back from her outstretched arms a gruesome criss-cross of jagged scars on her wrinkled white flesh.
She stood there staring. Whenever he opened his mouth to say something, she pushed her hand at him, and somehow made those eyes bug out further. Georan reached deftly for a coin as if it were a component of a spell to ward the woman off. He perceived the slightest nod when the woman somehow recognized a silver without taking her eyes off his. The exchange was over quickly and the woman turned to go back the way she came. Georan followed - the woman did not seem to mind. Her boy and their cart were nowhere to be seen.
Georan followed silently as she seemed to have a destination in mind. She crossed the market street and entered a small smelly alley. A few steps from where it opened into a dirty back alley filled with garbage, she spun suddenly and continued glaring at Georan. "It is obvious you have much to learn young mage. Be glad I recognize your inexperience, but don't follow another sorcerer into an alley alone ever again. We can't be trusted; you'll learn." Her tirade over, she settled down and smiled. It wasn't pleasant though, and it wasn't the fake one; it seemed a bit mischievous. "I'll answer your questions sweetie, but I'll expect something in return - and I don't want your coin. I'll keep track of you young one, you'll learn that too, and I'll collect someday. But now to your questions."
Of the curse she explains that what she knows is from her intuition, a sixth sense about the magic energies that form reality. She senses a darkness in Bilcoven, but of its effects only its reputation speaks. She excitedly rambles on about how she thinks some latent evil was awakened by some foolish adventurers, perhaps seeking the very source of the dark power. Whatever they found and released now controls them and has as its ultimate goal the destruction of all; to suck the life from this world to feed in insatiable hunger. These "bandits" are the pawns in its grand scheme bring about chaos and death. She really exerted herself and was puffing for breath when she finally finished. Georan just stared at her slack jawed, never having heard such blasphemous horrors; surely the gods would not allow such unspeakable powers to exist. It took him a few moments to collect his thoughts and ask, "and your talisman?" It sounded meek.
She burst into a cackling fit laughter that took her a few moments to recover from. "An old woman has to make her money dear. My charms are but a small defense." She looked thoughtful awhile then added, "Perhaps as the tendrils of evil reach out to touch you and your company, they'll pass you by, for a time. But don't you think they'll ignore you long boy! It needs those of the craft; the weapons of man can only accomplish so much destruction."
"How..."
"Don't even think of it wizardling! It can't be stopped! It's here, it's now! What was asleep has awakened, and it won't stop. It's not alive; it's not life. It's death." Her eyes start taking on a wild jitter. Chills run up Georan's spine. "You'll see. You go and you see. We'll watch the end together you and I." She starts looking around at things that aren't there, the intensity gone from her strange eyes, but replaced with fear. "He must learn first; let him go. We'll find him then. The End begins now. We'll watch it. Let him go. I won't go back. Can't live forever." Having heard enough and getting spooked by her conversations with phantoms, Georan leaves the hag in the alley. Her bizarre statements echoing in his mind. A few solid drinks eased his nerves, a bit.
"You did the right thing dear Brian," Linda reassured him. "There seems to be more to our pilgrimage than we anticipated and information is important. Did the mage learn anything?"
"Only that the trinket had a magic aura. He could not tell the strength or source the magic."
Mellody explained later that the woman made her nervous. She was happy to hear that the spooky trinket was no longer with Brian.