[8.1] Tempers
Sleene's wolves are accussed of killing sheep. She goes to investigate while Orinden prepares his army.
[8.2] Bad Omens
Brian, Georan, Spencer, and Sirilyr share news of their week since coming to Bilcoven. Spencer reports that someone has written text on his maps; Sirilyr suspects spiritual possession. Brian gets the priestesses while Sirilyr holds them captive.
[8.3] The Constable and Druid
Feorik and Tulane report the murder of Deein and involvement of Mortlake, Gyllick, and Cobern. Derian is most unhappy and angry, but the Druid Hernry comes in on Feorik's behalf. Hernry takes the two with him to the Park where Rasoric awaits. Hernry takes them through a tree outside town where the goblins have emerged from a hidden tunnel. He tells them to follow the goblins that have followed the caravan.[8.4] On the Table
After more argument with Spencer and Georan that Linda and Mellody magically calm, Linda blesses the three men who passed through the cemetary and allows Spencer and Georan to leave. Brian and Sirilyr finish their talk of the problems then join Arnough and Darvian for breakfast.[8.5] Tracking
Feorik Tulane, and Rasoric track the goblins through the forest toward Sola when it becomes night. They are encountered by a Watcher and lead to the village.
Smiling, she played with them for about an hour and a half, trying to decipher their communications and truly wishing she could speak directly with her friends. Nonetheless, she had a far better time than she had in quite some time. Kort came upon the frolicking trio just after dusk; he seemed nervous around Sleene and the wolves. Sleene broke away from the wolves and tried to make small talk with the sullen Kort. He responded but little so she retired with her damp friends. The first light of dawn brought a cold bright autumn day.
Sleene walked through the forest leaving her wolves slumbering in the warm tent. Anticipation of the coming battle march bothered her. She did not look forward to spending time with overconfident, blood thirsty peasants, and eerie animal mutilating Orinden. She meditated quietly asking the waking woods for power.
"Sleene!' someone was calling. Sleene stood and found herself a bit light headed. The sun had risen more than she thought it should have. She had meditated deeply, more deeply than she had before. She headed back to the camp where Kort was hurriedly putting on his armor. Jack was there with Dolan. "There's trouble Sleene. Come along to town." Nip and Snap poked their stretching heads out of the tents and yawned largely.
"See they been here all night," Kort told Jack. "I could smell um in my dreams."
"I believe you. But that don't change the shepherds' minds," Jack told him. To Sleene, "You may want to tie them up less some angry villager get their hands on them."
"I will not! Want is going on?"
"Four sheep were slaughtered last night."
Sleene bristled with anger at the obvious connection, "It wasn't Nip or Snap!"
"I know, we just have to go tell them."
"Like we told them of their folly last night," she retorted. Then a puff of wind caught her hair and her sense of balance returned. "No, they are just frightened," she thought. Then, aloud, "You are, of course, right. Let's go."
Tir was bustling with martial activity. Men and women were packing supplied in chests, barrels, and boxes. Orinden had put his volunteers in formation and was reviewing available equipment and arms. It was an amateurish assembly. Wives holding children wept for their husbands not to go. Men who thought this adventure foolhardy jeered and taunted the would be soldiers.
Stellan was busy selling arrow tips and spear heads. Sleene was entirely disappointed in the whole affair. Amidst all the preparations, an entourage including Durrant, Ingend and son, and Delak hung out at the door to the tower. The all looked unamused as Sleene and Jack approached. "The wolves were with her," Jack announced as they approached.
"I told you her pets would not be behind this," Elgend told his father.
Sleene smiled at the boy. "Thank you for your confidence."
"Something ripped my sheep to shreds," Ingend said. "If not those wolves then what."
Delak said, "I'll go have a look, these folks aren't going to be leaving soon."
Sleene looked at the gathering rabble and had to
agree with Delak. "I would ike to go as well, if you wouldn't mind. Based
on what I've heard and seen recently, and given that my friends did not
stir during the night, I am more than slightly interested in what did this
as well. We can be there and back before this group is ready to leave."
Brian woke with Storn who went to pray with the
priestess. "I'm going to speak with our friends from the caravan," Brian
told him, "please excuse me."
"Aye. But be wary." Brian gathered his equipment then went to Spencer's room and knocked. He had obviously woken the cartographer.
"A moment," Spencer called. "Get Geo and Sir." Spencer stood and looked at the graphics he had worked on the night before as he let the alcohol run its course. He was trying to draw the structure that the rubble on the temple would have been. There were probably six columns supporting a stone ceiling with reliefs carved upon it. Stone block walls filled the space between the columns. All centered around the circled star. But this morning, it was not his tired reconstruction of the ancient temple that had his attention, but the shaky angled writing at the bottom of the page, "Free us." Spencer did not write that; he stared at it while thinking about what it meant then checked his belongings; nothing was missing.
Brian obeyed Spencer. Georan was also sleeping and looked very tired, he readied while Brian went to Sirilyr. Georan had poured through his notes looking for clues to what language the gravestones were carved with. The runes were unlike anything he had written. Although the specific circled star symbol was not in his notes, Georan had found similar symbols Licyn told him were used in Divine spells for contacting the spirit world.
Sirilyr had already put on a cheery air and accompanied Brian down the hall to Spencer's. They knocked and Spencer called them in. A disheveled Georan joined them a few moments later. Sirilyr lit his trusty old briarwood and looked deep in thought. Spencer looked upset, when everyone was in with the door shut he exclaimed, "Someone's broken into my room! These drawings," he indicated the sketches, "I made them last night before taking to bed. But look," he pointed to the bottom of the page, where the words "Free us" were scrawled in shaky letters. "I did not write that. See? It is not in my hand."
Georan took the papers from Spencer and examined them, "When did this happen tonight, here?" Georan asked. "From what I remember you had your pack with you during dinner."
"Aye, I was drawing after dinner."
The ranger examined the room's door and window, both seemed secure with no sign of forced entry. "Have ye ever heard o' cases where a person can write the words o' a spirit?" He asked as he finished his examination. "My mother tol' me stories about it when I was a child underfoot as she worked her magic ways. What exactly happened to you an Geo in that pointed topped temple Spencer?"
"Nothing happened." Spencer quickly replied. "We took some notes, it got dark, we saw you, we came down." Sighing, he continued. "Speaking of which, it's high time you told us what you found at that grave."
With a slow sad shake of his head the ranger looked squarely at Spencer and lowly said, "I've already tol' ye once, ye'll know when we see Durrant an' no' before. Geo," addressed the ranger pensively to the young mage. "What occurred in that temple?" After a brief pause he offered, "I can 'ave Brian 'ere go an bring the clerics in ta check you both out if ye wish it Geo." The ranger cast a quick worried glance towards Brian.
Spencer turned and threw up his hands. "Listen, I don't know what it is you're trying to hide, but I'm going back the way we came and I'd like to know all I can before I do." Packing his things, "And I'd like to get underway soon; it's a long road, but I'll make better time by day and less a large company."
Brian was astonished, but agreed with Sirilyr, "Well, umh, I'm sure the priestesses could take a look and determine if there are restless spirits about. This could well be another ill omen. I've never seen or felt ghosts before, but I can tell you I heard or saw no one about the inn but those we know of already. You swear there was no one else in the room with you?"
"No, I'm not sure; it's obvious someone was here," says Spencer, slapping his palm to the papers. "But my belongings seem intact. Why anyone should wish to write such nonsense on my drawings is beyond me."
"To what deity was the temple originally devoted, and was it in use? Why were you exploring it?"
"How should I know? I don't even know if it's a temple; could be an outhouse for all we could read the inscriptions." Spencer said aggravated. "But I had better know more ere dusk." He doesn't tell them that he can't get his experience at the site out of his head.
Georan shrugged, "Don't know who it was built for but it was old and in ruins. Personally I want to go back and explore it again too. I say we get to Durrant as soon as possible and ask for a day off."
"Hmm...I'll not be needing his permission. Besides, we can rejoin the
caravan before the day's out." Spencer continued, "There's more to Tir than we've seen. Our enemy sees advantage in taking its hunters. They could be based near Tir; Tir may have some value. We must find the reason, and better now than later. Talk to our party and keep your wits about you when you arrive." Looking at Sirilyr, "That cave of theirs...they fuss over it an awful lot, wouldn't you say? I was going to inspect it, but if I don't get back there then you should do it."
Sirilyr had paced to the doorway from the locked window at the far end of the room. He stopped there and the cloaked and concerned young veteran spoke. "I hide nothin'. Brian, will ye please bring the clerics here now." The ranger said to Brian in a stone cold tone just a notch above a whisper. "Spencer, ye an Geo must say good-bye ta the two ladies before ye leave. Otherwise, ye are bein' rude to old comrades. An tha' would make me even more concerned over the strange behavior the two o' ye have shown since we passed through that cursed cemetery." Sighing, "Ya know Spencer, one thing bothers me about somethin' ye said jes' now. Ye said, 'it got dark, we saw ye, we came down.' If ye saw me Spencer, then why did I surprise ye when I met ye in front o' that damned temple? I also find it difficult ta believe ye saw me, as I was hidden until I chose ta show meself to ye.
"Aye, Sirilyr, you're a right spy, aren't you?" Spencer says, not enjoying Sirilyr's monologue. "So, we saw you on our way back. What's the difference?" Spencer finished packing his things.
"I've also noticed tha' Feint has stayed clear o' the two o' you since 'bout tha' time. An I happen ta know he be fond o' Geo here, so tha's jes no' natural. An fer all I know, it be Spencer an Geo who are referred ta in tha' scrawl there. So please, stand fast an wait a few moments fer the clerics. After ye 'ave seen 'em, ye can go on down the road by yerself if ye wish, with me a beggin yer pardon and buyin' the next couple o' rounds. Ye see the two o' ye are me friends, an if somethin' has 'appened to ye I owe it to ye to be sure you're as ye should be rather than jus' let ye leave suspiciously without seein' 'em."
Brian hesitantly stepped toward the door, still listening intently to the exchange between his mercenary friends. "I will go and get the ladies. You should let Linda get an omen from this and be sure you are not visited by spirits. But first tell me where this structure was, in what cemetery?"
"Middle o' the ring of villlages," Sirilyr told him.
As he steps out the door Brian added, "Stay here just a short while longer and I shall return with the ladies and Storn and together we can decide what best to do." He turned and hurried out, clutching his wooden holy symbol and muttering a prayer to Brigantia.
Spencer stared incredulously, "Well, sir," Spencer grunted, hoisting his pack and grabbing his walking stick. "I can see that your intentions are good. However, I'll not be subjected to an absurd ceremony." With that, he made to leave the room.
Sirilyr kept himself defensively between the door and Spencer, "It won't take but a moment," his tone was very grave.
Georan's eyes rolled up in their sockets as he turned towards Sirilyr. In a voice much deeper than his own he said, "FOOLISH MORTAL! DO YOU THINK YOUR PUNY CLERICS WILL STOP ME FROM PLUNGING THE WORLD IN DARKNESS! MWAHAHAHA." With a sigh Georan said in his normal voice, "Give it a break Sirilyr I don't intend to sit around while somebody lights incense and chants at me. I haven't even had breakfast yet." Spencer chuckled.
Fighting hard against the horror he felt from what he just witnessed Sirilyr grimly replied, "Trust me laddie, yer not yerself. I think ye both 'ave been possessed. Ye jes rolled yer eyes back in yer head an tol' me ye were gonna plunge the whole world inta darkness. An Spencer 'ere did no' even think twice 'bout it! Now stand fast Damnit!"
Georan slapped his hand on his forehead and groaned. Shaking his head he said, "I think its YOU who should be checked out Sirilyr. Can't you even take a bloody joke!"
"Look, now," Spencer said Stepping closer to the nervous Sirilyr and speaking in an equally grave manner (which was not all that different from his usual tone). "You've upset Brian and you've certainly upset me. I can tell you that I shall be much offended if this continues."
"Just wait," the ranger warned the pair. Spencer shook his head and moved to bypass Sirilyr. Very quickly, the ranger shrugged his cloak back to give his arms and brandished weapons room. Knees bent and weapons wide, Sirilyr glowered barring his hand axe and dagger.
"Ah, I see. Now you're going to knife us?" Spencer felt like a parent lecturing a disobedient child. "You say we're acting abnormally? Maybe you should stop taking advice from a dog and start thinking about what you're doing." Spencer stopped talking and looked disappointedly at Sirilyr. After a moment he made for the door again, his stick dragging at his side, showing that he was not about to fight.
Stepping back from Spencer and keeping himself between Spencer and the exit, Sirilyr quickly placed the dagger between his teeth and reached back and pushed open the door while waving the axe menacingly at his companions. He took a step back into the doorframe. Spencer moved toward the door anyway. In a sudden move, Sirilyr whipped his hand from the door and thumped Spencer soundly in the groin, doubling him over and sending him stumbling back a few steps to lean on the bed.
Sirilyr pulled a bottle of holy water from his belt pouch. Shaking the bottle at Spencer and Georan with alert, bugged out eyes, he roughly repeated a child's nighttime prayer then poured a half circle in front of him with it's ends anchored to each wall of the doorway. The remainder he threw hard to splatter on the shutters guarding the room's only window then plucked the dagger from his mouth. "Get back! Mortal I may be... But ye Devils shall no' pass!" He growled through clenched teeth, his fear beginning to feed a building rage within him
Georan, obviously getting angry himself, fixed a hard stare at Sirilyr and stated, "Never cross a mage for their ways are subtle and they are quick to anger."
After a few moments of grasping and grimacing at
the pain, Spencer ignored his ache and straightened himself. His posture
and facial expression still tell of the throbbing pain, but he functioned
well enough to let loose a string of profanities to rival the most base
of common drunkards while gesticulating furiously.
"Not so successful," Feorik told the official who raised an eyebrow. "Tulane found Deein murdered this morning."
"With you?" Derian asked suddenly very attentive.
"No. In his place, this morning. I just came from there. He was stabbed in the chest," Tulane spoke quickly.
"Who?" the constable asked Tulane.
"Cobern. He was with us in the sewers."
The Constable grew suddenly tense, "Watcher, it was foolish taking him down there. What were you thinking?" He saw Feorik bristle.
Feorik was angry now. If this was Calgurn, he would have said something a little stronger, but he wasn't in Dir. The Constable wasn't any better, but it surprised Feorik that he actually respected Calgurn more than this man. At least Calgurn understood the risks of this kind of work; it seemed. Feorik replied, "Since none of the older guards was interested in accompanying me, and no one told me I couldn't go, I took whomever I could, of their own free will. I figured one of Gyllick's men would be useful down there. I had no idea the scum of this city were so powerful, so out of control." Again Feorik hoped that his words' veiled insult would register. It did.
Derian swallowed, "Damn it! I should throw you in jail for being so stupid and irresponsible. You could have at least asked us about Gyllick or at least not gotten these boys involved. Tulane here is scared half-to-death if he is to be next. In fact, you are indirectly…"
Feorik cut the Constable off. "You speak as if you are powerless to prevent these crimes. I can't stop you from feeling that Deein's death is my fault. I can't stop you from jailing me. But I assure you one thing. While we sit here and argue, Mortlake and Gyllick's men continue to run this town."
Derian was not impressed with Feorik's words. It was his turn to struggle to keep his composure, "This is not a forest, Watcher. This is not a little backwater ramshackle collection of huts. This is a city, every move we make in this city has consequences. Gyllick is powerful, we can't stop him overnight. Your arrival and actions have disturbed a delicate balance of power. Your thoughtlessness has cost one life already, I can't risk that to continue."
Feorik couldn't believe this, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that Tulane's gaze held no respect for the Constable at the moment. Derian continued, "You have not given me any reason to believe your one man crusade to avenge your parent's and sisters death won't cost any one else's life."
Feorik's emotions rollercoastered, he felt sad and guilty for Deein's death, but he was angry for the barbs the Constable uttered now. He clenched his fists. "Those Goblin scum left in the night; it was my intention to follow them today. If you jail me, they escape. I won't deny what I did. I won't deny Deein was not a veteran. I have no defense. But I did kill two of the bastards. I want my two gold bounty."
The Constable grunted and nodded, "Of course, I thought that to be the nature of this meeting. Do I give one to him and one to you? What about Cobern's share?" It was bitter sarcasm. He turned to the young guard, "What do you think about this Tulane?"
He looked confused, "We uh," he looked at Feorik. "I chose to go below, as did Deein. We knew Cobern was a pile of horse placentas, I had my eye on the little rat-faced maggot the whole time. I did not think Deein was in danger," Tulane spoke softly, obviously thinking about something.
Constable Derian pursed his lips after he heard Tulane out. Apparently Tulane had not told the Constable their story. Feorik spoke up. "During the day, we scouted along a few passages, found places the scum had bricked up. Cobern knew his way around like he was born down there. We found a cistern and I went in. I met a goblin, attacked with spear. Hit the bastard, didn't kill it. Then it hit me; fucking careless. It hurt so bad I almost blacked out. I think Cobern saved my life ... he came in there and sent the bastard fleeing with quarrels."
Feorik looked at Tulane and then continued, his eye back on Derian. "We didn't kill any Goblins the first trip. We got out since the torches were almost done. This was right after dusk. We split up, I got clean, had some dinner. Later, Cobern came back to the Northland and told me to meet him just before dawn. 'Bring no guardsmen,' he said. I told him I would be there."
Feorik's voice became harder, "I saw through it as a setup the moment he said it. I figured I had seen too much, down there. I also knew I had to find the bastards myself, plus get out of the Inn or I might be attacked in my sleep. Made sense to do both - went back down to the sewers, through a different entrance I spotted earlier yesterday, not the same one the three of us went through. I got lucky, right down near the opening I heard two of the bastards ahead and we fought. I killed them both."
Feorik paused, he tried not to concentrate on the lying. Why was he protecting Rasoric? He didn't know. Perhaps he felt that Rasoric had more balls than all the men in Bilcoven combined. He certainly felt that the boy had taken a big risk, he wasn't going to sell him out. Feorik tried to make his voice sound as natural as possible; the Constable was looking at him with his fingers steepled on his chin. Tulane looked at the floor.
"This was about ... midnight I'd say. I left the dead scum in the filth, and with some light saw tracks. There were maybe twelve of the bastards, on the move. I followed them to an exit in the ditch. The goblins have left Bilcoven ... or at least a dozen of them have. I was too tired to get the bodies, or even to hack their heads off. I got out, slept in the barn where no one would find me. I never even thought Deein would be a target, since he lived in town. As an outsider, my disappearance wouldn't seem odd, I guess that was my thinking." Feorik finished, "that's what happened, now I'm here, after a bath."
Derian looked hard from man to man without a word. Tulane coughed to clear his throat, but did not speak. They just looked back at the Constable. The door creaked and Derian irritatedly looked at the opening door. Feorik and Tulane looked over their shoulders at an old man standing there leaning on a thick wooden staff. The Constable rose as did Tulane and offered the elder a polite bow. Feorik unfamiliar with the man, followed suit. "Come in Hernry, how may I help you." The man walked in just a little crooked.
"You seem to have helped me already. I am looking for this man," he pointed to Feorik. "I think there is a bit of trouble brewing." Everyone took their seats again.
"Indeed. There's been a murder. Aine! Come here." The Constable told the secretary to send some men to Deein's.
"One of yours." Hernry stated more than asked. Hernry turned to Tulane then back to Derian. "Tell me, there is more than I know."
"That one," he nodded to Feorik, "took him," pointing to the other, "and Deein along with a thug named Cobern, goblin hunting. Apparently there's been more than goblins in the sewers, and they are not pleased with Guards and Watchers nosing around. Not pleased enough to kill."
"You both are in danger then." Hernry looked to both of them then back to Derian, "Your ruling?"
"I don't know what to do. They both need to leave or sit in a cell while things cool down."
"I'll take them. The Watcher's heart is in right place, but the nest has been stirred up and there is more than they can handle." Derian nodded, "I will be back later, come on Feorik and…"
"Tulane," Tulane said quietly.
"Tulane, I remember you. We need to get you away."
"Wait," Derian called as they stood. He made some notes, then produced two gold coins. "Take them and leave town," he commanded curtly. Feorik did with a slight insincere bow.
Hernry lead the curious warriors out of the tower hall and into the square. "We are going to the Park, there is another one in danger there." He brought them to a large log house in the middle of the park. Feorik noticed a perplexed look on Tulane's face. Inside was rustic, cozy, and warm. A large couch supported a sleeping boy about their age. His face was bruised and he had a black eye. Hernry brought out a platter of cold food. "Dainye is away, and I don't cook. Wake Rasoric." Feorik shook him and he startled looking around nervously.
Feorik smiled down on Rasoric, he honestly thought he'd never see the tough little bugger again. Rasoric looked at him curiously, Feorik smiled and patted his pack, mouthing the word, "later."
They ate quietly. Hernry was very old, but had an aura of strength about him. His face was wrinkled, but stern and wise with large clear eyes. Gulping food like starving men, Feorik and Rasoric took in the old Druid with a mixture of awe and respect. The young Watcher had heard only good things about the Druids and how they sometimes helped his order in the wilderness. There were very few near Dir, and he was unfamiliar with the pair from Bilcoven. Rasoric had always steered clear of the mystics. Tulane sat sulking and eating little.
When they finished Hernry spoke, "I want you to go to the caravan here from the south. They travel with a Druid, Sleene. She will recognize this," he handed Feorik a carved wooden owl. They seem to be in some danger, so you can warn them, and they can keep you – all – safe." He looked to each of them, especially Tulane who seemed uninterested. "Stay with them, obey their master Durrant.
Feorik grunted as he inspected the carved owl, "This is the caravan that was attacked recently in Bilcoven ... the iron monger, going to Sola." Feorik looked up, his eye thoughtful for a moment, "Danger ... the goblin scum are following them?" Feorik waited for Henry to continue.
"It seems. You two, get new clothes, cut you hair, grow a beard, something to change your appearance," he told Rasoric and Tulane. Looking back to Feorik with a chuckle, "Nothing can be done to disguise you one-eye, so you hold yourself up proud, but don't stay alone."
"Why are the scum so interested in this caravan?" Feorik posed the question to Henry, but he passed a glance over at Rasoric as well before looking back at the venerable Druid.
"They, it seems, have attracted the eye of someone interested in more than their wares," he too glanced at Rasoric. "They have another purpose that must be served." The Druid turned his wide eyes upon Feorik, "There is more danger here than we imagined, they must made aware."
"The little creatures found a tunnel out west of town. I will take you there. Follow the goblins to the caravan, get them. More have gone south. They will be dealt with," he added before Feorik could complain. "There is no good for you on that path."
Feorik smiled a rare smile. "Thank you, Henry. I was expecting to be staring at the wall of a cell this evening. But now I am free to pursue the bastards! Rasoric, Tulane, let us go as soon as we are ready."
Feorik looked about, "is there a stream or a well near here? I would like to clean my wound before we leave."
"You are wounded? You hide it well. Come let me see," Feorik revealed the puncture, scabbed and leaking. "Unpleasant business," he said before saying an unintelligible prayer and laying his hands roughly on the wound causing Feorik to cringe. As he did he thought he smelled spices, unfamiliar, earthy. Hernry removed the pressure and Feorik realized the deep pain had lessened. The wound had closed with purple tender flesh.
Feorik gasped slightly as the dull ache was replaced by a sharp heat that then subsided to a warm tingling. He had heard that some Druids were Healers, but he did not suspect they performed such miracles so casually. "Thank you ... that will make my travels swifter," Feorik bowed his head to the Druid.
"I should leave this behind," Rasoric said starting to remove his padded armor; it was decorated randomly with probably dubious markings.
"Yes. I have heavy cloaks too."
"You know. I didn't ask for any of this," Tulane finally said. "I'm supposed to just run away from my life?" The others just stared. "With these two?"
Feorik started to speak but bit his lip when Hernry addressed Tulane. "Adventure is often not a choice," Hernry said sternly but somewhat nostalgically. "You made the first step down the hill; now it is up to you to stay upright as the slope steepens."
"Ahg," he shook his head. "Fine. Let's go."
Rasoric slid off his armored leggings revealing badly bloodstained pants. "Just a scratch," he said to the others stares.
Hernry went to a closet and rummaged for awhile then returned with two dark brown heavy hooded cloaks and a pair of rustic tunics and trousers. He handed them to Tulane and Rasoric. "No one will see us leave town, but these will help disguise you, and keep you warm." At that he headed over to the fire and poked at it a bit getting a larger flame.
As the Druid turned away, Feorik regarded the other two. He spoke softly, "No, Tulane, no one ever asks for horrible things to happen. One day you wake up and your life, your old life, is over. But, since you are still alive, what remains must be your new life. For better or worse." Feorik was grim again and his voice hardened, "I am not happy with how things turned out in Bilcoven. Exploring with Cobern was ... stupid...," Feorik held up a finger to silence Tulane's apparent agreement, "but it was my mistake and what's done is done. I am hoping that whatever good we can do with these merchants will follow us back here, and allow us to give Bilcoven's rotten core a shake." Rasoric and Tulane just nodded thoughtfully, agreeably.
Rasoric turned to Tulane, "Anyway, who are yeh Tulane? If you don't wanna be here why are you? Look we're all in this together so you might as well tell your tale."
Tulane cast an angry glance at Feorik, "My friend is dead and I'm probably next." He sighed and let out some tension, "We went into the sewers with him and that bastard Cobern yesterday. Damned fools." He pulled on the cloak Hernry gave him.
Rasoric finished changing into the Druid's fresh clothes. "I don't like going after goblins without armor." Must be one of the guards.
"I think it best to leave town immediately," Hernry
stated. "Pick up armor in one of the villages. Come, we best be leaving."
Brian had walked quickly out to the ladies and
right up in the middle of their ceremony, breaking his usual habit of respectful
participation. With concern obvious on his face, he apologizes. "Pardon
me Canon Linda, but there is an issue of grave concern that requires your
learned opinion. Spencer and Georan have returned from exploring an old
ruin in a cemetery and something from it still haunts them. Sirilyr has
convinced them to stay long enough for you to speak to them, though they
are eager to be on their way. They have also spoken of goblin activity
and recent murders of woodsmen not far from here. Whatever evil inhabits
these lands is awakening again, I fear."
Linda gave him a skeptical but concerned look, then nodded. "There is more to those men than they promote."
"Apparently, last night Spencer took time to draw a sketch of a structure he visited. Though he is sure he welcomed no one and both door and window were barred, the next morning there was a message scrawled on the bottom of the paper, and it is most certainly not written in his hand. " His voice trailed off as he again clutched his holy symbol, "Sirilyr thinks he was visited by a spirit."
A loud shattering echoed down the hall from the direction of Spencer's room. The four of them got up to see what was happening. Sirilyr was standing in the doorway brandishing weapons. They rushed down the hall, Sirilyr looked very angry then a flurry of profanity erupted from the room that made Brian blush. "Fellas, no need for this! Take a step back and just hear what the priestess has to say. We're not here to harm you," Brian said as they approached.
"Ahh finally." Georan exclaimed. Sirilyr was drawing his long sword. Spencer stopped the torrent and stood staring at Sirilyr with his head tilted slightly forward, almost peering through his eyebrows. It was a piercing glare which betrayed a deep anger. Georan, upset himself, held his hands up peacefully to Sirilyr, "I only want to show you I can cross over the holy water."
The dour dark faced ranger replied to the mage, "Maybe, ye can. But, now that they be here, we all stay until they grant us leave."
"Holy water?" Linda questioned. "What is going on here? Are you all three insane?"
"No we are not!" Georan stated. "Except for him," he added pointing at Sirilyr, "He seems to think we are possessed."
A few heads had popped out of other doors along the hall. She lowered her voice. "Sirilyr, Disarm."
"Yes, Syralir, put away your weapon. There's no need for this. We're all friends, and whatever evil may have visited upon the others can be dealt with through faith," Brian implored the angry man. The imposing presence of Storn behind him added weight to his suggestion. Sirilyr sheathed his weapons anyway.
"Let us continue this inside," Linda requested.
Sirilyr stood aside agreeably.
"What is happening here?" The query came from behind Sirilyr. It was Darvian dressed in his traveling robes. He stood well back from Sirilyr not wanting to startle him.
Brian paused to answer Darvian, "Just a misunderstanding about some spooky things my friends saw on their way here. I'm sure we'll sort it out shortly. Please tell everyone not to be alarmed." He entered Spencer's room behind the priestesses and Storn. Sirilyr nodded to Darvian and closed the door.
Sirilyr then spoke to the senior priestess while staring intently at his two companions. "The weapons are away. I fear some, or mayhaps all three, o' us may have been touched by spirits in someway when we passed through an ancient part o' the large cemetery that lies hard by here. Both o' these two went inta a very old temple wit' a pointed top, even though the keeper o' the dead warned us no' ta go there. That place cost the life o' one o' 'is helpers. Although, he would no' say how. I fear somethin' vile 'as 'appened ta them while they ventured thar.
"Now Spencer bears a scroll with the words 'free us' mysteriously scrawled in the dead o' night he claims. I think it may be a cry for 'elp from me two friends trapped somehow from their beings. Georan here 'as spent a goodly part o' the night searching for somethin' like a man who 'as lost somethin'. Then a few moments ago whilst good Brian here went ta fetch ye an after I tol' 'em ta stand fast an wait, 'is eyes rolled back in thar sockets and an unearthly deep an dark un'uman voice laughed evilly sayin' I be a foolish mere mortal ta think tha' my puny clerics could prevent 'im from takin' o'er the whole world. Spencer acted as if he did no 'ear the words. An then, Geo went on as if he 'adn't said anything untoward."
"A joke man! This has gone too far," Georan exclaimed exasperated.
Sirilyr just gave him a sidelong glance then continued, "Both wanted ta leave quickly before ye came an laid eyes on 'em. I 'ad ta 'old 'em by force. Brian knows what passed here b'fore he left ta bring ye. He 'eard my argument fer us ta wait ta be seen by the two o' ye. My points were valid, were they no' Brian?" Nodding his head briefly at the cleric's guard. "I swear what I 'ave said on all that I 'old holy priestess. Ye 'ave traveled wit' us, an' know us as we were then. I do no' think meself mad. Please, look an see if thar be any taint or magical auras gathered 'round us now. For what I 'ave witnessed in this room is an unearthly an' possessin' evil."
"I do not sense the stink of evil in this room," Storn said eyeing the three men.
With a menacing flourish, Spencer began walking before Storn had even finished. His eyes didn't leave Sirilyr's face as he approached the door fully intending to leave. Georan standing with his arms crossed and a scowl to match Spencer's called to him, "Wait for me in the common room. Let's breakfast then be on our way."
"Spence, wait! Just give Linda a chance to look into this. We all want to hear your side of the story," Brian asked. Linda just studied him.
"Stand fast and wait fer the Cleric's leave Spencer, or I swear I'll knock ye down again!" Sirilyr barked, body moving into a fighting stance blocking the doorway as the bald man with vile intent as plain as the look on his face made for the doorway. "Storn help me hold him so's Linda can do whatever she must ta' know he no' be possessed! Tis the only way we'll know if he be right an' no' dangerous to innocents. Please, not all spirits be evil!" The young soldier issued the stressed plea for aid to the elder fighting man.
"We all need to calm down," Linda stressed. "Please Spencer, help us." She began a songlike prayer as the angry man faced Sirilyr; she motioned for Mellody to join her. Mellody timid, joined the metered verses.
The burning look of determination on Sirilyr's countenance changed for but a moment into one of confusion and then fully polymorphed into a serene state. "Oh no, don't leave now, no' while there is still a thing undone. Please stay." He gently said to Spencer and Georan. With a slow glance to the others, "Won't ye 'elp me to convince 'em not to leave? Ladies, your voices be as sweet to the ear as your visages are ta the eyes. Even though I've ne'er met a cleric ta be trusted, I 'ave always admired ye both as women, don't ye know!" The ranger winked and smiled at the two clerics. He had not come out of his fighting stance, but softened just a bit looking less of the coiled spring of a cat, and more of the relaxed balance of a snake.
Brian watched the face off at the door, his initial concern fading as he listened to the prayer. A serene look came across his face and he glanced adoringly at Mellody. He mouthed some of the words as if to join the chant, then looked reassuringly back at the Spencer, hands clasped piously in front of him. Brian calmly added, "Spencer, it is possible you have been visited by spirits of the dead who are not evil, but merely trapped on earth until their business is finished. I have heard of people being haunted by ghosts who will not leave until a wrongful death can be avenged. Perhaps there is something at work here that faces the same enemies we search for. The words said, 'Free us', which is not a threatening statement but a plea for help."
Georan had not moved. Spencer had stopped still. A pregnant silence developed as the priestesses stopped their orison. Only Sirilyr could see that Spencer brow had relaxed, slightly. But then Spencer spun suddenly to face to the priestess, causing everyone to jump. Storn had stepped just as suddenly between the ladies and looked menacingly at Spencer.
"I understand what you are trying to do Linda, but I do not appreciate it. I'll not be subjected to further witchcraft," Spencer announced sternly but in a polite tone that belied the reproach of addressing her so informally.
She nodded politely to him anyway, "We are not against you." Linda then looked at Storn who stepped back then around to Sirilyr, Georan, and back to Spencer. "Can I see the scroll?" she asked the cartographer. He just stared.
"This information will help us all understand what is really going on. We cannot sort it out without everyone telling their story," Brian implored.
"I've put it away. It's nothing. Someone's playing a trick," Spencer said. "I just want to be on my way."
Seeing that she was not getting much cooperation from Spencer, Linda turned her attention to Sirilyr and Georan. "This is most unusual. I've heard nothing about ancient temples. Why were you there at all?" She asked suspiciously. Seeing some hesitation she added, "I already suspect Durrant's purpose here is more than monetary. I want to help, for there is something wrong here. Something secret."
"I believe that curiosity concerning the history of this place and its monuments is not something so out of the ordinary." Georan stated, "As for Durrant's purpose, should he have one other than profit, that is for Durrant to disclose not us."
"Hmm," she eyed Georan thoughtfully.
Quietly Sirilyr drew the priestess' attention, "Wha' do ye think is 'appening 'ere M'lady? Why does the church show such sudden interest in this land? I think ye an Durrant should talk. Indeed, I'll ride wit' ye to 'im. But none o' that matters til' what 'as 'appened to the three o' us is made clear. I know I 'eard the whispers o' the dead at the temple in the ancient portions o' that benighted cemetery. An strange thin's 'ave 'appened betwixt tha three o' us since. By all o' the gods! Do ye think I'd strike me friends for no reason?" He ended disgustedly.
She looked uncomfortable and glanced around, "I must pray for guidance. I trust in Storn's judgement that there is no malign spirit at work. For now I can offer a blessing." She produced a sealed ceramic pot and said a prayer while she opened and wetted her fingers with the of holy water within. She turned to Sirilyr who had relaxed his stance, "May the Goddess bless you." He bowed as she marked his forehead. She then turned to Spencer.
"If I can go without further assault."
She smiled and held her glistening fingers to his head. Spencer watched as the priestess' hand neared his head. A drop of water formed on her finger and seemed to collect the yellow light from the lantern and emit it in a shimmering glow. He felt the cool wetness on his head. "May the Goddess bless you." Unexpectedly, Spencer did feel blessed. Like a boy whose older brother had come to his defense, but that had never happened to Spencer.
Georan stepped up to Linda who repeated the blessing upon him. When she withdrew he said with finality, "Spencer, I believe we both would like to have a second look at that structure, especially with the benefit of daylight. Now that this foolishness regarding us being possessed is over we can be on our way."
Stepping lightly aside from the doorway the ranger bowed to his two companions, his eyes never leaving them, "Should the time come that ye need me... I'll be there fer ye boys. Permanent 'arm was never meant. An I'm sorry fer what I had ta do. I still believe there be spirits at work on us. But, now that we've all been blessed, there's naught else ta do fer it. If'n ye'd ride wit' me an the cleric's party back ta the Cap'n, it'd be safer through these woods." Sighing deeply, "An the extra men would make it safer fer the ladies an others as well." Looking directly at each fellow in turn, Sirilyr finished. "Be it as ye will. Good luck be with you either way."
Spencer stared at Sirilyr again, but this time the anger on his face was replaced by confusion. He heard and understood everything being said, but still had the feeling that he was missing something. Looking somewhat nervous he stammered, "Uh...I'll be off now."
"Wait, please, tell…" Brian began, but stopped when Linda put her hand on his arm and told him to let Spencer be with a look. Spencer walked out the door and headed to the common room.
Georan stepped behind Spencer and said as he passed the ranger, "Sirilyr, I would have a word with you before we go our different ways." Sirilyr nodded and the two stepped into the hall away from the room where the pilgrims stood waiting. "Now Sirilyr," Georan whispered, "I'd like you to tell Durrant that there's something pretty suspicious around here. Tell him of the burial grounds and tell him that there's a palpable evil presence there. Spencer and I will investigate further, hoping to spot something we might have missed in the dark. We might also try to check out the cave if possible. What I want to know is what you found in that grave. I have a suspicion the grave was empty but I need to be sure."
After glancing first to the left and then to the right, to ensure there were no eavesdroppers, the ranger replied in a voice little more than a whisper. "T'was the final restin' place o' a cleric o' Lugh, the god o' knowledge. Although the corpse 'ad been untouched, an was dressed fer battle, I could no' tell if it be man or woman, nor how it 'ad died. It was a cleric of a bit more experience than you or I fer sure. I made sketches o' all I found. The grave goods consist o' a mail hauberk, an iron ring, a wooden 'oly symbol, and a leather cloak. All else was in varying stages o' decay. So's I reburied that poor soul an' I raised a fittin' marker and annointed the site wit' 'oly water before I made my way to ye in that 'aunted place. Those things should be safe fer now."
He paused a moment, a furtive look on his face. "Geo, I would no' 'ave hit Spencer, if he 'ad jus' been more reasonable an let the cleric's bless 'im. There be somethin' seriously amiss wit' him right now. Be wary around 'im lad, alright? And, ye scared the piss out o' me with that roll o' the eyes an' deep throat stunt back there ye know! Don' fool wit' me when it comes ta spirit play, I ne'er joke about 'em." With a gentle slap on the mage's shoulder, "Good luck to ye lad, an keep a dagger ta hand under yer robes!" Georan noted the ranger was keeping his own hands concealed under his robes.
Georan parted with Sirilyr, and after watching him leave Sirilyr stepped back to address the pilgrims. Linda studied him a moment then said, "We must continue our prayers. Please Brian, go to Arnough and tell him we will catch up on the road. Sirilyr, will you stay with Brian?"
"Of course." When Storn and the ladies left, Brian spoke to Sirilyr, "I have learned of some bandits that troubled the area in cooperation with the goblins of the wood. Despite the best efforts of Lord Cinclair to eradicate them, they are rumored to be still endangering the East Road and have all but stopped trade there. These bandits were called the Kildarae and they may have been behind the deaths of several foreigners who crossed their path over the years. One of their leaders may have been a slimeball named Frobert."
"Gobbos eh? We 'ad a bit o' trouble with 'em in Bilcoven, came up through the sewers they did!" Replied the ranger.
"Was there violence in Bilcoven then? I did not know things were so bad. What happened?"
With a smile an a twinkle in his eyes, Sirilyr said, "Well lad, that tale will require a honeyed mead or two to tell proper like. But it's safe ta say yes, there was violence in Bilcoven. An likely as not, there'll be more before we're through with Bilcoven this winter. Come, let's run our errand fer your lady, then we'll sit an speak further o' Gobbos."
Brian nodded. They left Spencer’s room empty. The pair walked out of the inn after a passing look at the patrons at breakfast. Other than Georan and Spencer sulking in the corner, there were but a few chairs filled. They stepped into the cool morning air. Brian stepped off the porch and headed down the streets as Sirilyr was taking in the village of Ziret for the first time in the light of day.
Ziret like Bilcoven was in disrepair and full of empty buildings, but at least some attempt was made to cover the decay. Within the surrounding palisade, also in dire need of attention, the roads were crowded with the tightly packed rows of buildings.
"So tell me more of these goblins," Brian requested not noticing Sirilyr lagging behind.
Sirilyr bounded to catch up and said, "A score or so dug thar way out o' the city sewer, an inta a warehouse tha' 'appened, through pure bad luck I think, ta be right next to the wee place we had pulled up our wagons. They tried ta take the wagons, an the two o' us on duty stopped it. Feint was a big 'elp tha' night. They left us wit' somethin' or two ta remember 'em by!" The ranger ran a gauntleted finger down the scar on his forhead smiling, then quickly looked back at the inn's stable. "Where 'as that hound got to? Not like 'em ta miss 'is breakfast." He whistled loudly. Scratching lightly at his frosted short beard the ranger asked, "This Frobert, what's 'e look like?"
"I have not met Frobert. Linda told me of him, and I think she has never met him either, but we are looking for him. He seems to be linked to the death of a young cleric many years ago named Steven Riotta, as well as his fighter friend Jeason and several other young men who accompanied them. The deaths were made to appear accidental, Steven drowned in a well, another fell off a roof. These were healthy young men, and it's far too much of a coincidence to have all of them die by accident the same year. Anyway, I figure there's a good chance this Frobert travels with an unsavory crew and cooperates with the brigands, the ones the locals call the Kildarae. What I'm hoping is that when we get to Bilcoven for the Samhain Market Festival, Frobert will be there and we can learn more about his activities. Would you be willing to help us?"
A small brown dog bounded up to Sirilyr and jumped up excitedly with his forepaws. As the ranger rubbed the hound's floppy ears he answered, "I'll lend a hand now and again. My first duty is ta Cap'n Durrant an no' the clerics though. Somethin' evil is runnin' amok throughout this Marchy. I'll swear ta that Brian. Sirilyr looked at Feint appreciatively then asked pensively, "Bri, do you know what the young priest you mentioned looked like and which god he served?"
"All I know about the young priest was that he was not much of an adventurer, probably a weakling. His friend Jeason, who was more robust, dragged him out of Brendil where they stumbled across some evil which they did not fully describe. He wrote a formal request for Inquisition to the Church, but it was not granted, even though they spoke of an ancient evil awakening. They died before they could tell a soul the details of their discovery."
A sharp eyed look accompanied the veteran's words, "So tha' is why their Church sends the two ladies inta 'arms way. Thar trip is no' jus' ta send a message o' gentle support an' reminder o' divine power ta the far off rustics, eh? The Church is afraid."
They came upon the warehouse where Arnough, Darvian, Eldun, and six others were busy preparing his wagon and animals. Brian approached the three principals and explained that Linda was praying and would not be ready for the road until later today. Brian mentioned that with the dangers about safety in numbers may be called for. Arnough questioned, "More trouble in Tir?"
"More than the two hunting parties we heard of yesterday," Brian answered then nudged Sirilyr to get him to explain a little.
With a curt nod to the men, "Let's see now, firstly, thar is a creature roamin' the woods 'round Tir, 'e be an unholy thing ta look upon, wit' now approximately two score turnin' up missin', includin' the local's vaunted 'unters. The Gobbo's is raidin' right into the middle o' Bilcoven proper. An lastly, I believe somethin' or someone 'as disturbed the spirits o' the departed, an' perhaps even Nature her very self. That sums it up pretty well!" Sirilyr lightly explained without a trace of concern as he filled his trusty briarwood with his beloved Kilkenny pipeweed.
"Well, we need to be off to make Tir by nightfall. You all can catch up with us. Gurt and Deck there don’t make good time," Arnough said indicating the pair of disgruntled oxen. "How about you three?" He asked Sirilyr.
With an audible grunt, the ranger replied, "I'll be 'elpin' ta escort the ladies in to see Durrant at Tir. The other two lads 'ave a desire to explore a bit nearby first. Although I 'ave a feelin' they'll be along wit' the ladies shortly." A slight knowing smile briefly crossed his weathered face at the thought of his two 'scholars' in the company of the clerics, who had disappeared after the prior events of this morning.
"How about some food before we leave? They are almost done, but I’ve time for a bite. Darvian, join us? I’ll be back soon Eldun," Arnough told his lieutenant. They headed back down the street to the inn. Feint, now conditioned to wait outside, sat stealthily on the ground next to the porch. They entered and sat; the place was still mostly empty. Spencer and Georan were gone. Sirilyr was disappointed that Pamela was not serving this morning, the keeper’s pleasant but heavyset wife, Sara, brought them their meals. Darvian looked disappointed as well that Georan didn't join them. Maybe breakfast would have brought an opportunity to exchange a few words with Georan. Darvian however kept his disappointment in check.
"May Brigantia bless us all and ward off the evil that troubles this land," Brian said as the food arrived.
Sirilyr asked the merchant Arnough, "Ya must be cartin' somethin' 'eavy to need oxen ta pull it. What be yer load?"
"They’re overkill for what we’ve got now. We haul anything and everything though. I move through the eastern wilds, scattered villages, pickin’ up whate’r they have and sell’n whate’r I have. I’ve got quite a few orders for weapons this time. Also winter supplies. I’ll be making one last run for the weather sets in."
While slurping his mush, Arnough looked at Sirilyr then spoke, "You’ve got me concerned. Long has Bilcoven been of ill repute, but I ne’r heard of such things. Goblins in Bilcoven. Something is indeed going on here, but lets try and keep it from the crew." He glanced hard at Brian and Sirilyr, "They are on edge enough."
"Why's that?" Asked the ranger with a sideways glance from over a heavily buttered thick piece of fire toasted brown bread.
"Aeh. Goblins, bandits…they’re used to that. But unholy monsters an’ restless spirits…that will get them grumbling and fearful."
"I don't think that hiding signs of danger form your guards is a good policy. At least tell them that there are some thieves about, so that they will remain alert and not think that today is just another stroll down a country lane. A little bit of fear helps keep them keep watch better."
"But a lot of fear may chase them away. I don't need heroes, just big threatening men willing to stand between my cartload of goods and danger. I'm sure they heard some of Sirilyr's talk, but I'll warn them of the goblins and disappearances to keep them on their toes." Darvian nodded knowingly.
Turning to Darvian Sirilyr said, "There is more at stake here than just a cartload of goods."
"Oh," Brian said recalling something, "Thoresday night there were four strange people in red and black garb staying here who had pale skin and left in the dark. They would not speak to me or the townsfolk. I do not know if they are part of the gang or some strange cult, but they certainly weren't friendly. Did you encounter anyone like this in your travels?"
A concerned look crossed Sirilyr's countenance, "No we 'aven't seen none like that. Were any wearin' livery or 'oly symbols? By the sound o' yer description, they could be a religious order. With their colors bein' those of corruption an' blood, they'd no' be good company. Could be they'd know somethin' about what's goin' on around 'ere though." He finished with a nod.
Brian replied, "I tried to speak with them, but they were very secretive. Damn my drunken, foggy head for not thinking to watch them that night! I never got a clue where they went, and I was barely able to make it to morning prayers since I had been up all night drinking and telling stories with the militiamen."
"Will you two meet me outside the gate or catch up later with the priestesses?" Arnough asked.
"We'll bring the ladies up on the road behind ye, in a very short while," replied the ranger.
"Would you mind if Darvian stayed with you?" Arnough asked. "You could fill him in with some more details."
"Sure."
"Great. We will catch up with you soon," Darvian told Arnough before he headed back to his crew. Arnough waited with Sirilyr while Brian went to gather his things from his room. The pilgrim guard returned fully equipped. Eyeing the guardsman's rough hewn, slung crossbow. Sirilyr offered with one of his ready smiles, "Would ye like to learn how ta shoot a real bow, so's ye don' 'ave ta carry tha' slow firin' heavy club 'round?"
"I understand the mechanics of this club. Bows require a bit more art," Brian chuckled. "Perhaps I’ll give it a try. I haven’t exercised by creative side in awhile," the craftsman agreed.
"Come along wit' me ta the stable. I need ta saddle me horse, an we need ta see if we can find the ladies," Sirilyr offered.
"My plan exactly," answered Brian. They went to the stable and prepared their mounts. Brian complained that the stableboy was not very attentive. They warmed up their mounts then the two guards decided to find a range for some target practice, mounted and not. It was going to take Brian and his large carpenters fingers awhile to master the finesse of bow shooting. Darvian watch the sometimes comical proceedings interestedly leaning on his quarterstaff.
When satisfied their aim with their chosen weapons
was true, they returned to the inn to see about the priestesses. Storn
cracked the door but remained silent. The smell of incense wafted out.
Behind the big warrior, Mellody and Linda were seated facing each other,
eyes closed, singing softly. They told him they were ready. "We’ll be along
shortly." They waited a quarter hour. Linda looked concerned as she apologized.
They ate quickly before retrieving their mounts and hastening to the road
to Tir.
Hernry led the three young adventurers out behind
his log home to a stout yew tree. Hernry held up his arms to the tree,
"This is Euchanilus," he announced to the confused trio. "A very old resident
of Bilcoven." He again spoke in unfamiliar syllables. Then turned to face
his wards. "Please, hold on to each other. Take my hand," he held it out
to Feorik once the others had gripped something of each others. "Follow
me. You may want to close your eyes."
Unsure of what the old man was doing with them, but trusting him nonetheless, they obeyed. He approached the massive twisted trunk of the yew, paused under the shade of the interwoven branches and dark green leaves, then stepped into the tree disappearing from sight. Feorik reflexively relaxed his grip, but the old man's grip on his wrist was firm and he was dragged into the tree as well.
There was no resistance as they passed the scaling, peeling bark. Inside they all experienced the feeling of being in a vast dark place. They smelled the sweetness of the yew. They felt very small and insignificant, but unafraid. Whatever space they had stepped into was warm, pulsing with energy, and peaceful. They continued to make steps although it was unclear upon what they walked; there did not seem to be any sound, just the sensation of deep vibration, a sort of massive heartbeat.
Then it was over and the brightness of daylight and freshness of cool autumn air washed over the young men. All of them stumbled to the ground. Hernry smiled down upon them. "Thank Euchanilus and his cousin here for your safe exit from town." They lay at the foot of another large yew. The log house was gone, as was the underlying smell of the walled town.
"We are west of Bilcoven about a mile," Hernry told them as they stood and adjusted their jostled equipment. "Follow me. The goblins emerged not far from here." They walked south away from the tree through the copse. At the edge of the copse and a fallow field, Hernry pointed out a cluster of boulders choked with brush. Between the rocks, the plants had been crushed and pushed out of the way revealing a dark tunnel, and many small footprints.
"The tunnel will be sealed," Hernry told them. "I must return to town. You follow this trail," he pointed to the obvious path that some number of goblins had taken heading northwest back into the trees.
Feorik breathed deeply of the fresh woodland air and smiled. He bowed to the elderly Druid, "Thank you for this, Hernry. May you deal with the bastards who went south easily." Feorik then looked to Rasoric and Tulane both of whom seemed to be a little unnerved at the sudden transportation away from Bilcoven. "The trails those scum left is clear, but any rain and it will be gone. I must not lose any time." The ranger gave Tulane and Rasoric a hard look, "Once we go down this path, there will be turning back. I can't guarantee we'll get back to Bilcoven any time soon. Now, I'd be glad to have both of you with me, but if either of you have any reservations about this journey, please voice them know. I don't want to waste time arguing later."
"Let's just get away from here," Tulane said curtly.
Hernry looked to each of them with more than a little worry in his eyes, "Be well, and beware." He walked east into the field. Feorik started back into the trees walking steadily occasionally slowing to examine the ground to make sure they still pursued the goblins. The forest was a welcome reprieve, even for the two who left the walled town infrequently. The air was cool and fresh with the smell of plants. The two city dwellers followed behind the ranger a bit uncomfortable and overwhelmed with the whole situation.
After awhile the goblins headed due west with purpose. They did nothing to disguise their passage until sometime in the afternoon after the three adventurers shared the small amount left of Hernry's bread. It appeared that the goblins were indeed heading to Sola after the Durrant's caravan although picking through the forest as they were, it would nightfall long before they made it to the village. Feorik lost the trail briefly, but assumed the creatures started traveling more slowly and single file along animal runs.
The random interconnected trails were difficult to follow and frustrating to the ranger who had to backtrack several times looking for clues that he had followed the right branch. More often than not he had made the right choice, but it was time consuming, especially the few times the had to wander back and take a new path. Feorik was actually thankful for the pungent odor of the creatures urine and feces that lingered for him to detect. However, the sun was getting lower in sky darkening the forest floor each minute and the trail did not get any fresher.
Feorik swore, his voice carrying in the stillness of the trees. This was the third trail in a row that he was unsure about. The smell of the goblins was less here, and the ground somewhat firmer, making for less prints. It had not rained in many days. Feorik looked back at the two boys behind him, they were doing well considering this was probably the farthest they had traveled in one day in some time. They hadn't spoken much, but at least they hadn't tried to disturb him; the tracking was taking all of his concentration. Besides being hungry, Feorik felt better than he had in days. By removing that wound, that Druid had performed an amazing service. I owe them for that, Feorik thought. Hell, I owe them greatly. That coward Derian would have blamed me for Deein's death. An image of Cobern, giggling and taunting from beyond the bars of a cell, sprung into his mind.
A small piece of dirt, churned by the passage of little feet, replaced the image and the trail became clear for several moments. Feorik's thoughts wandered. Thinking back, he wondered what the Druid's role was in Bilcoven. Apparently the Constable's authority had its limits. Why they don't take charge of the place, Feorik wondered, give the place a cleaning like burning rot from a tree branch. He chuckled, probably because it was a city, and not a part of nature. Cities obeyed their own laws, had their own predators and prey, no different from the forest, but totally different at the same time. It was good to be away from there.
The trail faded away again, and Feorik scanned the nearby area for a sign of it. The lay of the land here was unfamiliar to him, but at least Feorik knew the general direction in which Sola lay, although he had never been there. If he lost the trail, they would make for Sola. It was not much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. Feorik pressed on, but soon the region became hilly and rugged further exasperating the ranger. If he gave up on the trail and headed to Sola, it would be well after dark when they arrived.
Feorik looked back at his silent companions, doggedly following behind him. If they knew that he had lost the trail, they showed no signs of it. Sighing, Feorik realized that the bastards could have gone down any cliffside or through any ravine or dried-up streambed. Feorik gave up on following the goblins the most part and headed west along the path of least resistance to Sola. They made better progress through the colorful fall forest. They paused to drink and rest at a shallow stream burbling between rocky hills. It was time for supper, but they had no food.
Rasoric and Tulane seemed to be doing a good job of ignoring each other. Feorik wasn't sure if either one knew what the other was, but he didn't care. There was time enough for that at Sola. After only several minutes of rest, Feorik was ready to move again. "Let's go, while there is still light." It did not take long for the sun to set and the cool darkness to descend upon the woods. The tone of the forest turned dark as well. The colors so vibrant under the sun were gone, replaced by the shimmering shadows of the dim sickle moon's light. The occasional birdsong absent; now the underbrush rustled with nocturnal life of prey and predator. Unprepared to make camp, Feorik continued on; Rasoric and Tulane kept much closer behind. The black sky above began to flash, but the storm was too far off to hear the thunder. A building cold westerly breeze was bringing the storm into the Marchy.
Soon after the distant thunder began to rumble lowly across the landscape, Feorik got a creeping feeling that they were being watched. A sudden command erupted, "Halt!" Silence rippled away as a shadow separated from a tree; it bore the stance of an archer, but it was too dark to make out any details. Feorik froze and cursed himself silently for not noticing this man until he was very close. Behind him, Feorik could sense Rasoric and Tulane stopping suddenly as well. Hopefully a Watcher, Feorik thought. He called out, "We are travelers from Bilcoven. How fare the stones and the trees?" Feorik gave the traditional greeting among Watchers and waited for the man's reaction.
"Old as the earth and wise as the stars, as ever." It was the correct reply but he was still suspicious, "Why do you travel the night woods?"
"I am Feorik, originally from Dir. We travel with speed to bring news to Sola - a war party of Goblin scum has fled from under Bilcoven. We believe they are headed either to Sola itself, or nearby. I tracked them almost to here, but lost the trail a few miles back. Have you any news of them?"
"Aye. We came upon their camp ere noon today. They've slunk off toward Tir, after the merchant," the shadow neared Feorik not relaxing the nocked arrow. "Who're they?"
Feorik followed the reflected glint of the man's eyes in the moonlight, his gaze took in Rasoric and Tulane, skulking in the background. How to explain these two city men in the middle of nowhere? Feorik turned and gestured to them. "They're my help. The Constable of Bilcoven has a bounty out for the bastards, you see." Feorik turned back to the man, his voice grim, "You say the scum are already moving north...damn it...," he trailed off. Feorik looked to Rasoric and Tulane. "We won't catch them this eve. We'd best be headed to Sola for the night." He looked up to the Watcher at that point, "Is all well in Sola?"
"Yeah, but that caravan, the goblins, an' the disappearances in Tir have got everyone a bit worked up."
Those words really caught Feorik's attention as well as that of Rasoric and Tulane who stepped nearer. "Disappearances? Can't say I heard about that. What's going on?" Feorik asked
"The merchant from the south?" Rasoric asked then suddenly feeling out of place, "If it pleases yer honor."
"It is not a tale for the dark of night. Come lets get to the village where you can speak to Aiden, Chief Watcher of Sola." The Watcher led them through the dark forest, Feorik following comfortably behind and Rasoric and Tulane struggling with whipping branches, tripping roots, and uneven ground. They were very pleased and very tired when the sparse lights of Sola came into view. "Eolen," the Watcher said as he clasped Feorik's wrist. "The road is just ahead there, the Watcher's is on left once you reach the bridge. Bill might have some rooms at the Vine, but Aiden ’l probably let you stay there."
Eolen left them there, and they headed for the road and to Sola. The dark sky flashed with lightning and cold drops rode on the wind, but they could see the spread of buildings down a hillside toward a dark ravine. Across the ravine on the northern side lanterns swayed and sputtered along a winding trail up the opposite hill to a large building with many firelit windows. The Mayor of Sola's mansion was well known for its magnificence. Unseen in the night they knew a vineyard spread around the mansion.
They passed the Vine, a large house converted to a tavern, with large carved grapevines snaking around the columns supporting the roof over the porch. A few shadowed figures sat there revealed by their occasional orange pulls on their pipes. The road angled down the hill to end at a stone bridge with a guarded iron gate on the opposite side of the ravine. A walkway led to the left along a row of buildings facing the vineyard. Feorik spotted the pine and bow symbol. It was quiet and dark, but Feorik's knocking was answered.
It did not take long to convince the young Watcher to let the travelers in and to summon Aiden. They seated themselves at a central table in the hall. They admired the beautifully finished wooden interior. Aiden came down the stairs from his room beyond the balcony above. "We have hunters from the Marchion already?" he asked as he approached. It was obvious he had been sleeping.
It did not take long to explain what was going on to Aiden. He told them that he himself had discovered the goblins' camp on his way home to Sola around midday. He explained that the two goblins had headed north that very morning; but there were only two so he did not bother to track them down. When he did hear that Durrant's caravan had just left for Tir, he sent two men to warn the caravan.
Feorik looked relieved, "Only two of the scum, you say? Good, good; the caravan guards can handle that number. But more left Bilcoven, I wonder if they divided their into groups ... " Feorik looked about the fine house and then said to Aiden, "In the morning we will go to the caravan and hopefully help determine the fate of those goblins. May we roll our cloaks here for the night, Aiden?"
"By all means, we’ve bunks to spare."
"It would seem to me that ill luck is following the ironmonger. Eolan mentioned disappearances ... if the goblins are no longer a threat, perhaps we can help find the missing folk. After all, we did come all this way West. What is going on?"
"There was more news today. Two bands were lost northwest of Tir this spring and this summer. Here, we’ve a map." He went to a desk of drawers and produced a worn leather map. He unrolled it on the table. The map centered on Sola, but showed Tir to the north. Bilcoven and Ziret were off the map to the east, but the road was shown. Feorik looked at the map; although he was illiterate, he knew the pattern of characters that stood for ‘Sola' and 'Tir', and so was able to follow Aiden's explanation. Feorik asked, "Were the bands that were lost well-equipped? If so, perhaps there is a greater menace than Goblins afoot."
"I doubt the hunters were prepared for battle, but "I just heard today. Another band has not returned, and neither have the three Watchers that went to look for them." With a serious look he pointed to the upper left, sparsely detailed, corner. "Those greedy Tirs have over hunted their region. They’ve had to go further out. Our bet is they ran into some tribe of gnolls, or goblins. They’ve sent for help from the March."
This time Feorik couldn't help but be shocked, and he glanced up from the map to look at Aiden with a worried expression, "Three Watchers have disappeared? That is serious." He continued, "The fact that the goblins divided their number is also ... odd. I know I tracked at least half a dozen or more of the bastards from Bilcoven." Then he said, sarcastically, "And when is any help from the March supposed to get here?" He harrumphed, "When it is too late, no doubt." Feorik was bitterly sarcastic, "From what I've seen, there's men about Bilcoven that would rather cower than get their hands dirty and fight."
Aiden eyed him suspiciously and looked to the other two, "Durin and Beowert left here on foot this morning. The March could send riders to be in Tir tomorrow."
He saw Aiden's look, and then added, "I can't speak for the Marchion himself, however. I would expect he'd help, I guess." Feorik sat down and, staring at the map, furrowed his brow with concentration, "My guess is that there is a larger force out there. Who knows what they are planning, but maybe they need the caravan's weapons ... perhaps in order strike against one of the towns." Feorik frowned further, "But the weather may turn bad in a few weeks. Fall ... winter ... it is an odd time for a foray."
"We haven’t had problems with fall goblinoid raids in many a year. There’s plenty of wilderness for them to sustain. Unless Tir has intruded on their hunting grounds," Aiden said frowning himself. "This could indeed be bad."
Feorik nodded, "Yes, very bad." He looked worried for the first time all day, his one eye catching the candlelight, whose flickering was causing shadows to dance around the room. Feorik could imagine the Goblins out there in the dark, moving like those shadows.
"Come, you all look tired. Let us sleep." Aiden showed them to a bunk room. The four beds were empty. He lit a candle on the desk and bid them good night. Tulane went to relieve himself in the out house in the alley behind the buildings. Feorik regarded the tough youngster, whose bruises were mostly hidden in the candlelight. He tossed his money belt at him. "Here you are. Are you ready to follow the scum in the morning?"
"Yeah. Better in the woods than in that sewer."
"Good ... I wasn't sure. This is all very far away from Bilcoven." Feorik eyed the lad warily, then continued, "Not that you or I are welcome there anymore."
Tulane returned and climbed up to his bunk. As they settled, Feorik asked, "Tulane, I know it has been a long day and we are tired, but something has been bothering me, and I won't be able to sleep unless I talk about it." He heard the guard roll in his bunk, but he was quiet.
Feorik paused, and took a deep breath, "Do you blame me for Deein's death? Do you agree with what the constable said?"
"We’re both fools. Deein too. And we’ll probably end up killed. I wish I could go back and laugh at you like the others, but I can’t so I’m stuck. You didn’t kill him; Cobern did."
Feorik nodded, "Yes, true enough, but we're only as foolish as our last mistake. Well, I'm glad you don't hate me," he added with a dry chuckle. "We'll find a way to get Cobern and Gyllick, with or without that coward Derian's help."
Feorik changed the subject, "So, what do you make of all this, what with Goblins scum ranging across the Marchy and Watchers vanishing?"
"Like Hernry said, I think this adventure found us. It seems it’s my fate to fight the bastards, for the March, or for Hernry."
Feorik yawned, "Well, it's my fate to fight the bastards too. I hope we get them all." Then he turned and went to sleep. At some time in the dead of night the quiet was spoiled as the storm outside grew wild and thunderous. After the front passed, a steady rain fell through the remainder of the night and into the morning.