

# Reunion

By Rodger Carr

Published by Rodger Carr at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Rodger Carr

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

#  

#  Prologue

# Home Fires Burning

Gerrod made his way up to the small cabin, drifted snow up to his thighs. Snow weighed down his already heavy fur leggings; but with a bag full of small game to last a month, his hunt had been a success. Frost dripped from his thick, gray beard and mustache. His tanned and weather cracked face chilled in the cold winter air. The sky above was a brilliant blue, but his many years of experience told him to expect the worst. He could tell by the encroaching clouds to the east that winter's fury was on its way. He was all too glad to reach the rough-hewn cabin he called home.

The cabin, mostly hidden under the thick blanket of snow, huddled under the towering heights of a grove of ancient evergreens. Their low limbs bowed under the weight of the recent snowfall. The cabin was old, and the solid timbers aged a dark gray. A plume of smoke swirling out of the fieldstone chimney told of the warmth that awaited him there. He breathed deep the cold, crisp air, filling his lungs with the fresh scent. There was nothing like the smell of home fires burning.

His numb hands clutched at the handle of the door. With one last, deep, chest full of frozen air, Gerrod pushed the door open.

The warmth of the inside of the cabin hit him like a wave as he opened the door. There was a good fire burning in the fireplace, and the delicious smell of stew filled his nose. He inhaled the warm, aromatic air deeply, and felt it warm all the way to his lungs. The joyous song of children, coming to greet him with open arms, replaced the whistling winter winds of outside. "Grandpa pa!" they cried, encircling his massive girth with their hugs. They squeezed him from his knees to his waist, as high as they could reach. Three little sprites staircased in height.

"Brandon, Mallory, Allison," a voice came from the pantry door. That sweet, melodious voice could only belong to Rachael. "Come, let your Grandpa pa get inside first. He's been hunting since early morn. He must be exhausted. Here, Papa, let me take some of your things," she offered.

She took from Gerrod the large, heavy sack filled with the game he had killed, and his thick, outer fur. She hung the fur on a peg in the wall, and made to the kitchen with the sack of food.

Taking advantage of the freedom from the little ones, Gerrod finished removing his gear. He took off the bow that slung around his frame, and unhooked the quiver of arrows strapped to his back. These he hung on another peg, next to his fur. Lastly was the giant sword, hanging in the scabbard about his thick waist.

He removed the wide belt from his waist and carefully drew the longsword from its scabbard. Rather ceremoniously, he carried the great weapon high, with both hands above his head, across the living room. Six young eyes watched in reverent awe at the sight, as he carefully placed the weapon above the mantle of the fireplace. The steel of the blade reflected the light of the fire, so it seemed to glow. This great weapon took its place of honor, humbled by only one other weapon in the home.

A large battle-axe rested above the great longsword named Flicker. A scraggly piece of fine, flexible leather cloth, tied on by two thin leather strip laces kept the blade of the axe safely sheathed. The handle was intricately carved with many ancient runes, and worn from much use in its better days. As was common for Gerrod, whenever he placed his own great weapon above the hearth, he stroked the fine etchings on the axe handle. He whispered some of those strange runes, written in a strange language that was gruff and harsh, and made the children giggle. With a stern look from their Grandpa pa, they quickly silenced their irreverence.

The steel handle, as marvelous as it was, was clearly too short for Gerrod. This was a weapon of a friend from long ago. A lifetime too long, it seemed to the tiring Gerrod.

He turned and made his way to the large, padded chair that was his favorite, suddenly feeling his great many years upon him. He let his heavy frame fall into the soft chair with full force. A heavy, deep sigh of relaxation came over him, as he closed his eyes a moment and rested. The children waited in silence, sitting on the floor in front of the warm fire. Their young faces reflected the glowing embers and the dancing flames. They respectfully watched and waited, letting their Grandpa pa have his moment of peace.

At about that time, Rachael emerged from the kitchen with a large mug of steaming liquid. "Here you go, Papa. This will relight the fires in your belly." She had noticed how increasingly tired these hunting trips were making him now, and it troubled her, but she would not burden him further with her concerns. He would just laugh it off anyway, and tell her not to be bothered, and go on to explain how the hunting had to be done. She would not be able to argue his point, but would be left feeling poorly for revealing how much the old man's weakness was showing. He was too proud of a man to admit that his age, or anything else for that matter, ever getting through his tough hide. "You must be starving and freezing from the hunt," she offered.

Gerrod didn't say a word, but he was all of these. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at his daughter. Her long, golden blonde hair cascaded around both sides of her round face. Her blue eyes were like crystals, shining in the soft firelight. A broad, sincere smile spread across her face. That smile, as always, reminded him of her mother until she shifted her head. Her long hair separated at the sides to reveal her pointed ears. Thinking of his own markings of his half elven heritage, Gerrod smiled. She really was his daughter.

Gratefully, he took the hot mug of tea from her, and sat up straighter in his chair to sip from it. He looked down the sides of his upturned mug, which quickly defrosted his whiskers, at the three beaming faces below him.

Brandon, the oldest of the horde, was but twelve winters old. He had already taken on the role of man of the house. But his mother was brave and smart, and he showed only self confidence and pride for his responsibilities.

Next to him was Mallory. At only nine, she was becoming quite the young lady. Gone were the days when Gerrod could bounce her on his knee, sending her into giggles of childlike delight. It would not be long, Gerrod frowned, before she would start turning the heads of the boys when they ventured into the city of Oswegonia on their spring treks. Then, one day, she'd be off and married to one of them. Gerrod prayed to Mya to be able to enjoy her sweet, young innocence until then.

Last there was Allison, a gift from the gods for Zackery's soul. Her father, Zack, never knew of Allison before he died from the bitter, poisoned claws of a troll. Sliced down in the defense of their village, Zack's death was an honorable one, despite its tragic suddenness. It was shortly after they laid him to rest, the smoke from his funeral pyre still rising in the cool night air, that Rachael had discovered his last legacy, Allison.

It had been two long winters since, and it seemed like Allison had grown like a weed. Smart as a whip, too. While her time had been short on this world, you couldn't easily put one over on her twice. She waited there patiently, lined up with her brother and sister, watching old Grandpa pa sip his sweet herbal tea.

The ancient mixture of bitter and sweet herbs and root juices flowed over his tongue and down his wind chapped throat. It steamed its way into his stomach, and relieved the grumble that had been with him since mid morn. The warmth of the fire flooded his fingertips and toes. It worked its magic up his tired, stiff limbs.

The love of family, the warmth of hearth: this was what life was all about; that exhausted sigh of relaxation after a good day of work, of providing meal for the family, or chopping the wood to heat them. Yes, this, finally, Gerrod decided, was life. He closed his tired eyes once more for another sip of the tea and a silent prayer of praise and thanks for Mya's blessing and all that he had: life, home, and friends.

His tired gaze slowly climbed the stone fireplace again, and Gerrod smiled at the great, steel battle-axe that hung in its place of honor. He smiled at his friends, at younger times when he was a mighty warrior. He smiled at the bond he once shared. He smiled at the memories.

"I suppose you little ones would like to hear a story from your old Grandpa pa," he asked in his gravelly, low voice.

Three heads bobbed up and down below him in unison. Smiles broadened on all three, spreading from ear to ear. While they had heard all of Grandpa pa's tales a few thousand times, the stories were always so full of magic and adventure that they never tired of them.

Rachael, satisfied that her father was content with everything he needed and the children well tended to, slid off. With a wink to Gerrod, she returned to the kitchen to dress the meat he had brought in. While she never put much stock in the large tales of great heroes and terrible villains her father always wove, she knew that they did the children well. They enjoyed these times with their Grandpa pa. The love the stories delivered had seen her through many tough times, and it would serve her kids well too.

"Have I ever told you about," he started. The children sprawled out on the floor. This was how all of Grandpa pa's stories started. The children were ready with elbows planted on the braided rag rug, and palms full of round cheeks. Gerrod contemplated how he should start, and once decided, started again, so as not to lose the magic of the tale.

"Have I ever told you about the time when your Grandma ma and I took on old Rai'dley?" he asked the eager children.

Even though they had heard the tale too many times to count, this remained one of their favorites. "Tell us, Grandpa pa! Oh yes, tell us that story, please!" they cried in delight at the selection.

Reunion

# Table of Contents

Prologue - Home Fires Burning

Prelude - Rai'dley's Return

Chapter 1 - No Complications

Chapter 2 - Good Friends

Chapter 3 - Unholy Alliances

Chapter 4 - Cy'nan

Chapter 5 - Uninvited Guests

Chapter 6 - Charlena the Druid

Chapter 7 - Twelve Bells March

Chapter 8 - Thieves' Triangle

Chapter 9 - Elixir of Life

Chapter 10 - Star Shyne

Chapter 11 - Highpoint

Chapter 12 - Together Again

Chapter 13 - The Abbey Dark

Chapter 14 - Flicker's Fury

Chapter 15 - LaBairne

Chapter 16 - Face of the Enemy

Chapter 17 - Into Darkness

Chapter 18 - Falling Star

Chapter 19 - The Jaws of Death Itself

Chapter 20 - Eye of the Storm

Chapter 21 - Fire and Lightning

Chapter 22 - Festival of To'Mak

Chapter 23 - Derik's Mace

Chapter 24 - Home Again

Chapter 25 - The Terror Above

Chapter 26 - The Flight of Death

Chapter 27 - A Festering Wound

Chapter 28 - The Queen of Death

Chapter 29 - An End In Tears

Postlude - The Settling of Dust

#  Prelude

# Rai'dley's Return

There was a thunderous clap and a flash of brilliant light, but it gained no audience in the long forgotten complex of caverns, hidden far beneath the mountain. The low rumble rolled down the vacant corridors, sweeping spider webs and tons of dust from their century-long resting places. It shook the stone walls, loosening blocks from their mortars, and bringing debris down from the ceiling. The roar of a thousand lions poured down every hallway and into every room of the vastness, finally dying out in a giant chamber. Its bottomless floors too empty for even this wave of sound and fury to fill.

Then, there was silence. Silence -- but not emptiness. A pile of bones lay at the site of the explosion that had splintered the very stone. As if carelessly dumped through the cosmic doorway which opened for just that split second. Dusty, dry bones. Lacking the ligaments to join them, the tissues of organs, muscles or skin, dry, rotting and mostly broken and splintered, crumbling into dust, they were nothing but bones. An elven skull, still delicately featured even in this naked form, sat on top of this scattered semblance, and served as the only indication that this was once an intelligent creature. But, while even the soft brain tissue had long since dried and blown away as dust, this skull was not empty. Hiding under the protective bone, red lights peered through hollow sockets. This was a spirit -- the spirit of one who refused to die.

It took all the power, all the concentration, all the will she had in her being, but Rai'dley refused to die. She fought the battle constantly, against the persistent, nagging forces of nature. And even though she had lost the great and slender, beautifully sculpted body of her elven heritage centuries ago, she would not admit defeat. She had too much hatred to avenge, too much evil to rejoice in, to allow her mortal time on this plane to end -- ever.

She had waited so long; an entire lifetime and more. She had lived a full life of evil splendor. She had mastered the arts of dark magic as none before, and ruled an entire world, but that was not enough; it wasn't the right world, her world. This world. She still had a vengeance to pay. She had waited and waited until the one day, as it had been promised to her so very long ago; when she would be allowed, no, called upon, to reclaim the glory of her once proud and arrogant people. She would champion their long-forgotten cause, and prove their righteousness. She would not only see their ancient visions of ruling this world fulfilled, but would surpass them to become the one and only god!

It was so promised to her.

It had been the hope of this great promise that she had held onto, even past death. It was in anticipation of fulfilling this completely evil desire, which gave her the foothold she needed to stand against time, against fate, against all reason. This was her foothold in insanity.

And so now, so much later that she could have no way to measure, the promise was fulfilled. Rai'dley had returned.

Even though she had nothing left to her but bones, they were enough. Rai'dley knew the powers of magic better than anyone. With nothing but her unbelievably strong will, she reached into that which was magic, and pulled directly from there what she needed. With the forces of magic, she reclaimed that which she had lost. Rai'dley reclaimed a youthful, beautiful body, much like the one she possessed in her former life. She didn't know where the thin elven body had come from, but neither did she care, as her will exploded into the emptiness of the new frame. She would learn the price for this material body in time; but for now, it was hers to experience once more.

She opened eyes she had not had in so very long, and stretched out into arms and hands long lost. "This is good," she spoke through lips regained, shocked at the sound of her thoughts being spoken aloud and echoed back to her through ears. She only paused a moment to examine her new body, young and virile, for she had much to do. She had not wasted that millennium of nothingness -- she had been scheming the whole time, so that now she had an exacting plan all worked out.

She looked around with eyes that saw for the first time in a very long time. "Ah, the corridor," she remembered, getting her bearings quickly. It was as if she never left. As she turned around full circle, she examined the wall behind her. There, etched in black soot and covered with settled dust, was the outline of her ancient body. So very long ago. With nervous instincts, she spun around and ducked to the floor, remembering her opponent from a war now forgotten. A wry grin spread across her face as she studied her would-be foe. Little of her nemesis remained but a shattered skull, melted into the stonework behind him. Rai'dley's last spell, cast in defense so long ago, blew him apart. Looking down at her new, slender elven body, she considered herself the winner. Her maniacal laughter filled the corridor. Finally, victory was hers.

"So long ago," she reminded herself. "What ever may have happened since then?" Last she knew, the other elves shunned her people, an elite group of elves known as the drow, and entered a long, hard war. At their peak of power, the drow had commanded waves of dragons to fall upon the elven land of Midkemia, to raze that land with their terrible magic and fire. But then the allied forces of the elves and the other races of Carrona, had taken back the Orb of the Righteous that had fed the drow their power. All but beaten, the last of the drow sought the shelter of this cavern complex, deep beneath Bellow's Mountain. But the enemy found them here and through their attack, drove the drow down deeper and deeper into the crevices of the complex. They had lost, that was certain; but by her return, they would be victorious. She looked again at the crumpled remains of her ancient adversary, and again her laughter filled the corridor. At last, victory would be theirs.

"Ah, yes," she smiled, "The Orb of the Righteous. That would be the key. Regain that, and the world would have little choice but to bow to my feet."

She once again heard that voice from long ago, the voice of the promise, and its return soothed her. She was not crazy, she decided. The voice had given her the plan, and she grinned at its deviousness and evil aspirations. The voice reminded her. She had much to do.

From memories of her youth, a lifetime ago, Rai'dley made her way through the still familiar, complex maze of caverns and long lost ruins. Despite the centuries that had passed, the complex had changed little, she noticed. Her memories of that time, which replayed still in her mind, were so clear that it was as if she had never left. These chambers held so many memories for her, unfortunately most of them bad. "No place like home," she smiled as she crossed the great stone archway that bridged across the cavern without a floor. "There's no place like home."

Rai'dley had returned.

#  Chapter 1

# No Complications

The towering black pyramid formed the perfect backdrop, as an unseen form made its way around the ancient structure in the darkness of the night. The measured placement of each softly padded boot was so silent it was almost unnatural; a skill mastered by over two hundred years of practice. The sand that coated everything in Midkemia aided the silence, muffling the quiet shifting of soft shoe leather.

The lone figure wore a plain black cloak that covered him from head to foot. The full, black beard helped hide what the ash-smearings did not cover. Black gloved hands held the hilts of two sheathed daggers at the ready, with the location of five others just as easily accessible.

The hunter checked his progress against the group of five men gathered around the small campfire ahead. They sat lost in their lively conversation, oblivious to the danger that stalked them. "Good," he thought. "That's just the way I like it." The men laughed boisterously and wouldn't have heard him if he had simply walked up to them. They probably wouldn't even notice or pay any attention to him if they did. But with this, he would take no chances.

He knew that the men would all be armed. He could even see the glint of their swords flashing in the firelight, lying casually only a few inches from them. The Mendals were peaceful people, but centuries of public ridicule and bullying, from even the general populace of Midkemia, had taught them to defend themselves. With their incessant evangelizing and spouting of their unpopular religious beliefs to anyone who ventured near the monument in the center of the capital city, they gained little sympathy. Their persistent, rude approaches turned off far more people than earned them any measure of respect. But so vehement were they to their cause, they couldn't help being any other way.

"How ideal," the dwarf had thought, considering this little exercise as much for fun as out of need. No one would ever question their deaths; just the result of one more non-believer that didn't care for their flagrant sermons against the use of magic. Midkemia, ironically the capital of Magica in all of Carrona, laughed at their prophecies and warnings and cared little for their loss.

A long time ago, what people now refer to as Ancient Midkemia, was an even larger and more powerful city -- until the dragons razed it from the face of Thear. The dragons turned the whole land around the proud city of elves into nothing but endless desert. Most of the citizens who eventually gathered around here didn't blame this terrible fate on magic. They blamed the hordes of dragons that had tormented that ancient place during the Great Elven Wars.

A brave man by the name of Duran Mendal was the first to adventure back into the wastelands of Midkemia. He found nothing left of Ancient Midkemia except for this strange, unexplained monolith. He accepted it as a grim warning from the gods against the use of magic. Despite his preaching, and that of the few that shared his beliefs, the following waves of opportunists quickly disavowed these claims. They used magic to rebuild that which the dragons destroyed. They built New Midkemia right around the mysterious black pyramid, as a timeless monument to the strength of that ancient city. The continually shifting sands of the deserts swallowed the ancient city forever.

It was the mysterious forces of magic that not only made life possible in the desert city, but also gave it its purpose. All those with any interest in the Arts of Magica gathered here to study it, practice it, and even worship it. The people rarely considered the anti-magic ranting of those that followed Mendal as anything more than annoying sacrilege.

If anything at all could concern the fortitude of this dwarf, it was perhaps that magic. Magic always bothered him, as it did any dwarf, but there was something about the unexpected effects of spells that more than innately troubled him. It was that unpredictability. You never knew what a mage might conjure up next, never really had any way of knowing what you might be facing when dealing with mages. They tended to complicate matters to no end. Especially on this mission, he wanted no complications; no surprises. He could feel the magic that emanated from not only the city, but the giant monolith as well. It tingled over his senses, filling his mind with a noise that dimmed his otherwise perfectly honed concentration.

He was but a few feet away from the men now, and he could feel their presence, could sense the outlines of their bodies, even with his keen eyes closed. He was well within striking distance now. He considered it, keeping in mind the closeness of their swords and the bright light of the intense fire, whose heat he could feel on his exposed face. But he knew that shadows couldn't be cast upon the monolith. It absorbed all light into its eternal darkness. It would not give away his form, and against its ebony surface he was almost invisible, even at this distance. He wasn't as worried about the men's swords as he was the noise they might make trying to scamper for them. He knew they would have no time to strike at him before his many daggers dug into their hearts, no matter how close their blades were.

But this was more than a simple assassination, the goal far beyond the deaths of these unfortunates. In fact, he mused, he may not have even bothered with them at all. If they didn't have the bad luck to camp out in the middle of where he needed to be, he would have happily avoided them. But as things stood, he could not risk their interference, that "complication."

However, despite the arguments, he could not resist the greater sport of a close-ranged first kill. There was something about the delivery of a dagger; slipping it precisely through the back, between the third and fourth rib, angled upwardly into the heart. The thought sent a rush of excitement over him. He knew the risks were slight compared to this rush. He closed in the last few feet for the sure kill.

He sprung into action with a flood of adrenaline and a flash of instinct. He drew one dagger and thrust it through the back of the man seated closest to him, his back facing the pyramid. He fired a second dagger into the heart of the man sitting directly opposite him, before he even noticed anything wrong with his companion.

Continuing in a single, fluid movement, he drew two more daggers. They flew into the chests of two others, one on each his left and right. The fifth and last member of the campfire reached out for his sword. Paralyzed by a mortal wound, his hand stopped inches away from the hilt of his weapon. The thief stood among the crumpled bodies, a fiery bloodlust burning in his eyes.

The encounter ended, having lasted only a couple of seconds. He quickly set about retrieving his daggers. He paused only a moment to bathe in the glow of the easy victory. He wiped the bloodied blades clean on the clothes of his victims. Knowing that the Mendals would have nothing of value, more a reflection of their support than their religious beliefs, he forewent the frisking and looting of the corpses. He picked up a sword, probably the man's only possession of any value, and examined it. Noting it was of poor quality at best, he used the sword to prop the man up in a more natural pose. "No use attracting any more attention than necessary," he thought.

The fun part over with, the dwarf fished out a chain from under his cloak that hung from around his neck. At the end of the chain hung a large pendant, shaped like a diamond, with a smaller diamond on each of its four corners.

He held it up in the air, and chanted the chant he learned. He struggled against his usually rock-solid nerves to make sure that every stress and pronunciation was perfect. There was no room for error in this, he knew. Again, an uncomfortable wave of tingling flowed through him. The mystical pendant glowed with a magical blue light. He had to fight his instincts to drop the foul magical item and run.

Then, just when he thought nothing would happen, a very faint outline appeared in the wall of the monolith before him. Mentally, he marked the spot, and ceased the chanting, preferring the solitude of the silence.

The thief glanced down at the sign that hung on the rope that wrapped its way around the perimeter of the monument. Written in the common tongue, and in bold, black letters, it read, "Warning - Do Not Touch." He had long heard, even before arriving in Midkemia, the terrible tales of what happened to those foolish enough to actually defy these simple orders. The countless bodies of all those who thought they had discovered a way to enter the ancient, door-less structure, had melted right into the surface of the black, soulless pyramid. Unless pulled off the monolith, they disappeared completely into the depths of the stone. It was a burning, agonizing death. He smiled at the simplicity of the understated sign. He looked at the ring of dead men behind him, knowing that they would not pull him from the wall if this did not work.

The uneasy dwarf looked around. He hoped no one else noticed the soft, still-glowing outline on the black wall. At this late hour, no one was on the streets except for the five silent corpses behind him.

He replaced the pendant about his neck, and tucked it safely under his cloak. With only the faith of the gods to protect him, he stepped forward, climbed over the warning rope and signs, and simply walked right into the side of the monolith.

#  Chapter 2

# Good Friends

Gerrod gazed up into the dark night sky. Even though it was clear and crisp, he couldn't see any stars. The flickering torches on either side of the old inn door blotted out anything above the city walls where the King's Guard patrolled. "Shame," Gerrod thought to himself, "There's nothing like saying goodnight to the stars before turning in from a rough day on the road." Gerrod hated the city; but unfortunately, it was a good place to do business.

That night, though, Gerrod didn't have any business to do. Gerrod tossed the inn's stable boy a whole gold bill, even though he didn't have to give him anything, and turned to go inside.

The dwarven stable boy, Ace's son, was like his own. Aric looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Gerrod! It must have been a good trip for you, I hope," he cried as he pulled a feeding bag over the horse's head.

Gerrod returned the child's wishes with a wave, and opened the familiar oak door to the lively inn.

It was a brisk, fall night when Gerrod stumbled back into the Wefpub. It was instinct, more than any conscious decision he had made, that led him to the familiar bar. This was the fine establishment run by his dear, dwarven friend, Ace. While all of them owned a part of the business, they let Ace run it and keep more than his share of the profits. It gave all of them a place to go for a good drink and good friends. That's all any of them ever asked for out of the place, and they always got that and much more.

Gerrod walked through the front door, and was surprised by what he saw. There was a halfling swinging from the chandelier! Gerrod got there just in time to see the spry little man fly off the swinging light fixture. He did a double somersault, and landed face first into a giant pool of mud. The mud flew from its huge vat, all over the place, and halfway up the wall. The goopy, brown mess covered many of the people who watched the game. But, most importantly, everyone was having fun.

The small common room was packed. Incited to near riot by the halfling's fantastic leap, the people at the bustling bar, and the people crowded around the tables all pounded their mugs in appreciation. With all this pounding and stomping, most of the beer in their mugs spilled out. The busy bar maidens quickly refilled the empty steins, collecting the patrons' coins off the tables, and everyone was happy.

Ace had proven himself a master at the business, and was always finding new ways to keep the 'Pub different and popular. People never knew what they'd find there, and that's what kept them coming back. Wefpub always did well. In the end, they all agreed that it was a very wise decision to let Ace run the business.

Wefpub had always been a place for adventurers, such as themselves, to meet and swap tales of their great exploits. A place of rumor and tall tales, it could also be the perfect place to find information on just about anything. There always seemed to be someone there who knew what you were interested in. You may have had to pick your facts from the bull, but usually you'd learn something of value. Wefpub was the perfect place for adventurers. It was the perfect place for Gerrod.

Ace could tell, by the look on his friend's face, that something was wrong. He reached under the bar and poured a tall mug of the finest ale from the private stock. He greeted Gerrod at the end of the bar with it and his always-comforting smile.

"It's good to see you again, Old friend," he said in his gruff voice, handing him the mug of fine ale.

"It's good to be back, Ace," he replied.

"Argunthu again?" A pained, sympathetic look came on his face.

Gerrod nodded. That's where he had spent the last several years, and every time he had returned to Wefpub, it was for the same reason.

"Who was it this time? Not Lokai, I hope," Ace asked. Even though Ace had never been to the stone dwarven mines to the North, he had come to know the good people Gerrod had found there through his tales. He'd even gotten to like some of them; warriors he'd never met.

"No, it was Mika," Gerrod lamented. Even saying it then brought back bitter visions of the tip of the orcan spear puncturing the brave dwarf's armor. He heard his final battle cry. Mortally wounded, Mika still revenged his own death. With a will as strong as his stout legs, Mika had pushed the spear clear through his back, just to bring the vile invader within reach of his short sword. Using every bit of his remaining strength, Mika had sliced into the skull of the shocked orc. Tears began to well in Gerrod's eyes for his lost friend. "It was Mika," he repeated.

"Awe, man." Ace felt his pain; their pain. He knew how Mika had become a very close friend. Because of his prominent position as an 'Outsider,' Gerrod had gained many friends and much influence among the troubled stone dwarves. "Don't those orcs ever give up?"

"It's the dangedest thing, Ace," Gerrod said shaking his head. "Those orcs are persistent if nothing else. They win any battle by sheer number, not by any kind of strategy. If you kill fifty of them, there are at least a hundred more to take their place. We can beat them all the way back to the foothills, but in only a few months, they'll come right back."

"Nasty, smelly creatures, they are," Ace agreed.

"And they always seem to have a knack for finding cavern openings that lead them back into the dwarven mines, too. Then we have to flush them out, and drive them back up to the surface, and to the foothills again."

"Well, you're a good friend to these people, Gerrod," Ace encouraged him. "Sometimes I don't think they know what kind of friend they have in you."

"Mika knew. We'd gotten to know each other pretty well, for me being an Outsider, I mean. He saw past my blade, and really cared about me." Gerrod thought a moment about all the good, honest folk he'd met in the darkness of the mines, and how they accepted him. They respected him as he respected them.

"He still couldn't have cared like we do, though," Ace said with an infectious smile Gerrod couldn't help returning. "Them stone dwarves are an odd lot, you know. They pick their friends carefully, but once they decide you're good folk, you've found friends for life."

"Better be careful, Ace. Sounds like you're deciding to be a stone dwarf," he warned kiddingly.

"Bah!" the dwarf blasted. "That'll be the day! Just you don't forget who you are, half-elf."

"Never," he vowed.

"You're early, you know," Ace said as he wiped out wine glasses.

Gerrod took a long, slow drink from his mug while he considered what Ace said. Could his ways have gotten so predictable that his old friend had anticipated the timing of his inevitable return to the 'Pub? It felt good to have a friend who understood him so well.

Gerrod simply nodded, knowing it would be enough for Ace, and it was.

"Don't be telling me you've forgotten again!" Ace seemed alarmed and disappointed.

Gerrod didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and it showed, but Ace continued to be understanding as always.

"Reunion. Reunion is next week," he explained. "You couldn't have forgotten Reunion again," though he could see that he had.

Reunion. The word brought back a flood of memories to Gerrod. Most were happy, some were sad, but all were good. Reunion. It seemed like a breath of fresh air forced into Gerrod's tired heart -- which quickly changed into an explosion of panic.

Wefpub was the small cluster of friends who owned the inn by the same name. Reunion was a time for the five members of Wefpub to gather. They kept up with old times, and let everyone know what they were all doing. It seemed the five of them had known each other for ever. They had each joined this very exclusive group in their own way, and at their own time. They had shared much during their years of adventuring together. Gerrod's greatest adventures had always been with this party.

When it came time to break the group up, they took a solemn oath to meet here once a year, no matter what. They vowed to stay friends for life.

Reunion meant what Gerrod needed most. Reunion meant friends.

"You will stay, won't you?" Ace pleaded, his big brown eyes peering through his thick, graying beard.

However, Gerrod also remembered that he had chosen to skip the last few Reunions. He remembered Corinna, the one love of his life. He had skipped Reunion all those years because he knew she would be there. He had stayed away trying to avoid her. Corinna and he hadn't broken company on the best of terms, and he didn't want to deal with seeing her again. He knew he couldn't deal with it.

While Reunion meant what Gerrod needed most, it also meant what he dreaded most. Reunion meant friends.

"I haven't heard from nobody yet, but then I never do. Everyone just always shows up," Ace argued against the silence. "It's like homing pigeons returning to the roost. No matter what they're doing, or where they are, they come. Everyone will be here. I guess it's one of the few things in life we can count on. It's good to be able to count on something. Besides, it would be rude of you to leave now that you're already here."

Gerrod considered running out of the inn and back into the mines. It would have been easy to hide from his fears by slaying a few hundred orcs, but then he remembered Mika. He knew he had to stay and face his fears, as Mika had faced the orc that had killed him.

"Okay, since you insist," Gerrod gave in. He smiled at his friend's persistence. "Besides, it would be rude to leave now."

The argument won, Ace changed the subject. "So, what do you think of the mud diving?"

Gerrod couldn't help laughing as he watched a human, drunk with too much cheap mead, leap to his fates into the vat of mud. The resulting splash of mud, while much larger than the halfling's, wasn't nearly so well directed. A wave of mud spread over the heads of all those within ten feet of the event. The crowd went wild again.

An elf, just as doused in mud as any, measured the height of the splash of mud on the wall. He pointed out that it clearly fell short of the mark made by the halfling. This was the true test of the leap, and most of the crowd, still pleased with the performance, yelled consoling encouragement. Still, the human faced enough boos and hisses to let him know his shortcomings.

"The best thing is," Ace explained, "each jumper pays two gold pieces just to take their turn. Some of the drunkest and proudest will even make two or three jumps!"

Penfield, the human who had just leapt, refused to leave the mud vat. He still tried to rally support for his efforts. He egged the audience on by waving his mud-soaked arms in the air, and flinging the goop at them. This quickly lost him approval, as the crowd recognized his bad sportsmanship. He soon faced more discouraging remarks than he had before. This disapproval only angered the drunken man even more, and he started to push at the patrons closest to him.

Eventually, as he went down the line pushing at whomever he could reach, he finally came upon someone he could pick a fight with. A spry, slender elf, somewhat shorter than the human, took great offense to being pushed. With a quickness the drunken Penfield could barely perceive, the dexterous elf turned the man around and, with the same twisting shove, had him back face-down in the mud. The crowd roared.

Embarrassed still further, the big man staggered back to his feet, turned to the elf, and pulled out a knife. The elf jumped back to avoid a clumsy swipe, and soon produced his own weapon, a short dirk. He wielded the weapon masterfully, and teased his opponent on.

"Looks like Penfield's gotten himself into trouble again," Ace sighed, producing a thick club from under the bar. "This usually does the trick," he winked at Gerrod.

"Shall I take care of the elf?" Gerrod asked. He'd helped Ace take care of bar fights before, and even though he knew Ace needed little assistance, you could never be too careful. An unwary bouncer could easily find a blade in his back.

Ace smiled and motioned him on. Fights weren't as common in Wefpub as they were in seedier bars and inns, but they were inevitable costs of doing business.

By the time they pushed their way through the rowdy, excited crowd of spectators, both Penfield and the elf sported many nasty cuts to their faces and hands. Penfield took another vicious swipe at the elf. The agile man easily dodged the attempt, but it forced several spectators to scamper out of the way of the wildly striking dagger.

"All right, you two," Ace yelled over the buzz of the crowd, "Break it up before I start doing some breakin'!" To accentuate his point, he swung the heavy piece of timber that was almost a whole tree. This cleared a path to the two combatants. Gerrod followed closely behind.

"Awe, let 'em go at it, Ace," a man requested. While the two men didn't make any more attacks on each other, they still circled around defensively, each waiting for the other to strike first.

"I said enough!" Ace bellowed. "The show's over, folks. Nothing more to see here, right fellas?"

Lost in the concentration of the contest, they refused to hear the stodgy old dwarf. To end the battle now would prove no winner, and they both wanted to win. The elf made one quick jab to the left, bringing Penfield's dagger out wide, and a second strike low and inside. The human matched his blows, deflecting them both wide, but found himself too pressed to make a quick attack of his own.

Ace had always been proud of the old saying, "Dwarves don't fight fair, but they always win." With a powerful whack of the club, he took the tall human out by the back of his knees. Forced down to a kneeling position, a second whack landed on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Still eager for the last swing, and seeing his opponent dazed, vulnerable, and forced to his knees; the elf lunged forward, leading with the sharp point of his dirk. The clang of steel rang out, as Gerrod's sword intercepted the blow, and diverted its energy to the floor. The weapon stuck deep in the hardwood surface.

The elf scowled at Gerrod with disdain. Gerrod smiled in return and shook his head. "Don't even try it," he warned.

But of course the elf didn't listen. He spun around, sending his cape flying out full, and when he faced Gerrod again, he held a long sword at the ready. The elf bore a satisfied smile at the challenge. His long, auburn locks had barely come to rest on his shoulders before he leapt forward again. This time he led with the long, curving blade of his sword where the dirk had been just seconds before.

Gerrod's eyes locked onto the man's silvery orbs, as he swiftly deflected the charge with a back swipe of his own blade. Gerrod knew the elf's eyes would tell him where he'd strike next.

The force of the blocking strike forced the slight elf off balance, and he sharply struck back the other way, the only way he could. Another careful placement of Gerrod's sword stopped the desperate swing dead. As their blades locked together, Gerrod kept the lock on his eyes. "Sh-zot," he commanded, and at once, the blade of his sword lit brightly.

Gerrod was glad that he had kept his gaze on the elf's eyes, because the expression on his face was indeed priceless. The elf's jaw dropped slack, and his eyes bulged wide. With little stomach left for the fight, he turned and ran through the front door and anyone who stood in his way.

Quite satisfied, Gerrod looked about at those who had continued to watch. Most of these people had the same, amazed look on their faces. Clearly, they had never seen a magical sword before. "Sh-zot," Gerrod repeated, and the cool blue glow of the blade faded, leaving nothing but the bright, polished silver of the steel. Gerrod sheathed it as he turned to face Ace.

Gerrod expected Ace to be waiting for him, seeing the body of the unconscious Penfield slump to the floor next to him. Instead, Gerrod found Ace in the throws of another encounter; this time with the big man that had wanted the fight to continue. He, too, attacked with a sword, and though he was large and powerful, Ace proved quick and skilled with his comfortable piece of wood.

One swing came in high, crushing into the side of the man's thigh. While this kept him struggling to keep his feet, Ace followed through with a lunge that sent the end of the solid tree limb into the man's groin. This doubled him over. As soon as he bent over, Gerrod knew Ace was almost done. One more powerful swing came down on the top of his head, and the tall man tumbled on top of Penfield, sword clattering to the floor.

Ace picked up the edged weapon and looked around threateningly. "No more." There were none that would challenge him and his wicked tree limb. He paid a man and his friend some money, and they willingly carried off the two unconscious fighters.

"I'm truly impressed, my friend!" Gerrod patted the old dwarf on the back. They both enjoyed the rest of the peaceful evening. Come closing time, Gerrod took his private room upstairs. He knew he would sleep well.

While he didn't forget Mika, by morning he decided that being here at the 'Pub made it okay.

It was a couple of nights later when another member of Wefpub arrived. The winds had turned even colder, a sure sign that winter was well on its way. The door of the inn blew open, and a figure, wrapped in a black velvet robe from head to foot, strode in. Even though it had been years since he had last seen her, Gerrod recognized her immediately. She always made for an impressive entrance. Corinna had arrived for Reunion.

It was late and the 'Pub was empty, except for a few leftover patrons. These drunken survivors would end up sleeping on the floor of the common room before the night was through.

Corinna had an urgency to her as she made her way directly to the bar. A bar maiden was busy there, drying mugs and cleaning up from the evening's activity. The young girl was new, and didn't recognize Corinna, who was apparently asking for Ace.

Since Ace wasn't available, gone to bed in preparation for the early morn-meal, the barmaid pointed toward Gerrod as an alternative. Corinna spun around quickly, her steady gaze hitting him like a poisoned arrow shot from beneath the cowl of her black robe. It was the first time he had seen her face since she entered the 'Pub, but he knew it well even without seeing it. The softness of her fair, rounded cheeks, her dark eyes set deep in secretive sockets, soft, full lips. That face was etched upon his tears.

Gerrod knew his presence had surprised her. She neither anticipated his being there nor did she see him when she came rushing in. Though it didn't happen often, Corinna hated being surprised; but as always, she recovered quickly.

Gerrod nodded slowly and smiled an amused smile. It pleased her to see him, but the surprise hadn't amused her. She immediately strode over to his table in the corner with the same, deliberate pace she had entered with. She didn't take time to thank the lowly barmaid who, with a shrug of her shoulders, returned to drying her mugs.

Corinna lowered the hood on her black robe, and her dark brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders. It framed her face and accented the deepness of her dark brown eyes. A man could lose himself in those dark caverns, Gerrod warned himself.

He stood to greet her, and she met his outstretched hand with a surprisingly affectionate hug. While he wasn't exactly sure how they'd left matters the last time they were together, he didn't remember it being this good.

However, he could tell by the desperation in the strength of the embrace that she just needed someone to hold. That embrace would have been Ace's, had he have been there. Gerrod smiled, thinking of how Ace would have reacted. He didn't usually enjoy that much affection, but he would have forgiven her, being upset as she clearly was.

Even though Corinna was a strong woman, the abundant folds of the velvety soft robe that always protected her softened the embrace. It was like hugging a kitten. The familiar perfume of her spell components shot Gerrod back through time to a yesterday when they were lovers. The warmth of her presence flowed through him, and threatened to wash him away to a better time.

But this wasn't that time, and right now she needed a friend, not a lover. Ace would have been better at this.

"Hello, Corinna," he greeted her at last. It sounded stupid, but like always, he never knew what to say to her.

She squeezed tighter in response. He could tell she was glad to have someone there. "Tell me, what's going on?" he invited.

Corinna answered his question with a hard, passion-filled kiss. Gerrod wasn't expecting it, and it caught him short of breath. The passion it delivered burned down his throat like Ace's strong whiskey, and planted itself in his cold heart. It was a familiar passion, a smoldering ember of days gone by.

She continued to embrace him, almost afraid to let go. He could feel her shivering under the thick robe. Something frightened her; and Corinna was never frightened. As vulnerable as he had ever seen her, she never lost her cool control over any situation. It was clear that what ever it was that was bothering her, she had lost all control over it. It was that loss of control that frightened him.

Gerrod asked her if she'd like a drink, but she refused with a shake of her head. Tears streamed down, staining her cheeks. Her arms, wrapped tightly around his shoulder and waist, did not tire or weaken. If anything, she tightened her hold and pulled him closer into her.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep this contact from arousing feelings inside him. This was the passion he had missed for far too long, and he hesitated to let it go. He was afraid it would escape him again.

But Corinna just needed someone to hold onto right now -- not as a lover, but as a strong friend to lean on. She needed the clear-headed guidance of someone who would not lose control. But Gerrod never had any control in matters that concerned Corinna. She was vulnerable, and she needed someone who wouldn't take advantage of that vulnerability. She needed Ace.

"It's late. Let's get some sleep," Gerrod suggested. "Ace will be here in the morning."

"I can't sleep," she confessed, starting to weep again. "I haven't been able to sleep for weeks. I need you to hold me."

"I can't, Corinna. I can't just --"

"Please, Gerrod. Make me feel all right. I just need to know everything's okay."

"Everything's okay, Corinna. You're safe. You're at Wefpub." He didn't know what to say, how to comfort her. He didn't even know what was wrong. Her body shook with great, heaving sobs. She made no effort to control her crying, and while he guessed that was good, he became aware of the attention they gathered from those left in the common room. Even the barmaid had stopped her duties to study them. "Let's go up to my room," he urged her. "We can talk there. You can tell me all about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," she forced out between sobs. "I just want to hold you. Please, Gerrod," she begged, "Just hold me. Hold me tight."

"Alright. Okay," he comforted her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. It felt nice; too nice. "Maybe my room isn't such a good idea anyway. I couldn't be held responsible for what might happen," he said only half-jokingly.

But even that was too much. He realized only too late that he had given life to his greatest fear, his biggest weakness.

"Make love with me, Gerrod. Like we used to," she offered. "You always knew how to make me feel good. As long as we're together, I'll know everything's okay."

"No, it wouldn't be right," Gerrod declined with all of his self-control.

"But we could make it all right," she insisted. "Please, I want to be with you. If it happens, it happens."

"But I don't want it to happen; not this way."

She planted another passionate, desperate kiss on his lips, and that sealed their fates.

She needed Ace, but Ace wasn't there. Damn that Ace! Gerrod wanted to be her friend, to comfort her like Ace would have, but it seemed making love was the only way they'd ever found comfort together. 'Damned me,' Gerrod cursed.

"I just want to be with you," she continued.

It suddenly dawned on him. "But you have to sleep -- your magic."

"Sh-," she warned as if hiding a secret from herself. "It's been so long now, one more night doesn't matter. Nothing matters."

She was crying even as he took her in his arms. He did still love her. He damned himself again because he loved her too much to just be her friend. He knew what would happen, and he knew he'd hate himself because he'd let it happen.

Gerrod lifted her in his strong arms and carried her up the stairs.

#  Chapter 3

# Unholy Alliances

The young elven woman rode her fiendish chariot boldly into Mezzo'Dakmania and right up to the Citadel. That was the name given to the mammoth, central pillar that supported the massive ceiling of the vast Underworld chamber. Some five miles across, Mezzo'Dakmania filled a single, enormous cavern \-- a city of great proportions, even compared to the surface cities that lay more than a month's travel above endless stone. Mezzo'Dakmania was the city of the drow.

Rai'dley pulled hard on the reins as the corridor she rode down opened up into the main chamber of the lost city. The young, black dragon that pulled the chariot obeyed the familiar command eagerly. With a flapping of its unfolded wings, free at last from the confines of the tunnels they had traveled through, it lifted the horrid bone chariot into the air. Rai'dley rode high into the emptiness of the vast chamber, well above the wretched city below her. She knew the dangers she flew over, especially in this part of the city. The dregs that lived in the areas surrounding the great Citadel would be even less accepting of her fair colored skin and dark, brown hair than the still skeptical ruling families of the Citadel. And the drow, even the lowly dregs, were nothing Rai'dley wanted to fight with.

It had been over two decades since Rai'dley jumped through that planar doorway into that abandoned corridor. Since then, she had done nothing but acted upon her plan, the plan of the voice, and through this she had gained great power. Power, she reminded herself that was meant for her to have. And there would be more -- so much more.

She had learned that the drow were her people. At least what remained of them after the surface-worlders drove them into exile, miles below the cavern complex under Bellow's Mountain. In the thousands of years since, the adaptable drow had undergone many changes, all under the strict guidance of their Dark Queen, the goddess Lolth.

It had taken Rai'dley a while, but she eventually figured out that the voice, the plan, had been Lolth's all along. It was this goddess that had pulled her away from her certain death in the cavern complex so long ago. It was she that had summoned her back again, and it was she that had whispered the plan to her for an eternity. It was all Lolth, who over those centuries, had gathered strength in the dedication of these drow. And it was Lolth herself who sanctified Rai'dley's unholy alliance with the drow.

Simply for the fun of it, Rai'dley allowed her fevered mount to spit its slimy green mucous from its slathering mouth. She laughed a hideously evil laugh. She imagined the horrid sounds of drow dregs screaming and running for help. The oozing acid burned into their ebony black flesh. She could imagine them falling into prayers to their goddess Lolth, fearing she must have delivered her wrath on them.

This, too, gave her faithful companion a dragon's grin. It felt good to Algernon to spread his expansive wings into the cold, damp air of the Underworld. They ached from having to remain so tightly folded. The small corridors limited his space while he pulled the ivory chariot through the endless maze of narrow, deadly tunnels that made their convoluted path to the surface world.

Standing next to Rai'dley, in his constant, silent vigil, stood Do'Sol; the undead drow warrior that had become Rai'dley's personal pet. The undead life force glowed a bright red in his deep, ebony eye sockets, under the bright white hair of his race. Dried, death-grayed skin pulled taunt over his thin skeletal frame.

Do'Sol was a matter of great pride for Rai'dley. As the first victim of her devious plan, Do'Sol's walking obedience would prove her scheme viable to the leery drow ruling families. This success would give her the credence she needed to prove her favor with her new allies. It was for this optimism alone that they gave her any measure of trust -- that and the sacred council of their evil goddess, Lolth, their Dark Queen.

Do'Sol had been an accomplished fighter during his long life as the house patron of the first ruling family. Thanks to Rai'dley, he had been able to retain his remarkable fighting prowess, even after death. This was the unique strength of Rai'dley's plan, that the victims retained their abilities and that they were now completely under her control. Through his death and re-animation, Rai'dley's will usurped his own. He now existed in a state of mindlessness; his spirit distilled away.

Rai'dley shortened the long path to her castle through the generous use of magical gates. They encountered little resistance on their journey, despite the clatter of the chariot and Rai'dley's commanding voice. Few things dared challenge a dragon, quite rare in the depths of the Underworld. The reputation of a drow, the likes of Do'Sol, also helped immensely. Fewer still were the things that would challenge, or rather succeed, against a powerful mage like Rai'dley. During their very first venture to the city of drow, they had pioneered a path. They needed to clear out a number of monsters, most of which would remain too disturbed by the displays they had witnessed then to ever return to Rai'dley's trail again. They rode on with great speed, nonetheless, hoping to avoid most of the great horrors that lurked in these narrow corridors. They were visitors to the Underworld. Here, not even the great strength of a dragon and the wondrous powers of Rai'dley's spells would be match against some of the horrors that called the Underworld home.

Rai'dley circled high around the Citadel, locating E'Logra, the giant ball of heat that ceaselessly circled around the cavern ceiling. In the pitch black that was Mezzo'Dakmania, this globe of warmth glowed in the heat detecting infravision of Lolth's children. Rai'dley, not so adapted to life in the Underworld, lacked the keen sensitivity to the glowing ball. Yet, as always, she used magic to supply that which she lacked. A pair of enchanted lenses hung from her crown. They enhanced her natural abilities; providing her with the same superior infravision of the drow.

She marked E'Logra's position around the Citadel, and saw she was a bit late for her meeting with Mother Fa'Langa. This pleased her just a little, picturing the great Matron Mother of the first ruling family pacing in nervous anticipation. "It won't hurt the old girl to feel some distress over this meeting," she smiled as Algernon started his descent.

The Citadel housed everything that was important to the twelve ruling families of drow. They designed the structure to protect those that dwelled within. They did not fear the beasts of the darkness that might wander into the drow city, for all beasts around knew better. Instead, they designed the defenses of the Citadel to keep out the dregs that surrounded them. If the millions of lower drow were ever able to organize themselves, their sheer numbers would be a substantial threat to the ruling families that forced them into slavery. Therefore, besides the impressive defenses, the ruling families spent considerable time and energy in keeping the dregs in a constant state of chaos. This chaos and fear pleased the Dark Queen to no end.

The Citadel itself was an island, separated from the dregs by a wide stretch of the river Rah, which flowed around the base of the Citadel. The river provided Mezzo'Dakmania with its water supply. This fast flowing moat also provided the first line of defense for the massive column.

Beyond the river, stood a fence. Constructed of adamantane and twenty feet tall, it surrounded the Citadel as the next line of protection. Adamantane was stronger than any other steel in the world. Upon this enclosure was cast a great number of wards and spells to further bind, strengthen, and magically reinforce this barrier against intruders -- magical or otherwise. While dregs never have held magical talents, the ever-cautious ruling families would leave nothing to chance.

Inside the imposing fence was the courtyard. Here, countless guards could rain down thousands of poisoned quarrels from small drow crossbows; another specialty created by Rai'dley's violent descendants. Only by vulnerably crossing this wide-open expanse could one reach the Citadel itself, and gain entry to the main gates there.

Knowing it would not be able to penetrate the magical dome of protections that covered the courtyard, Algernon spewed venom out toward the magical barrier. He took pleasure in seeing the guards below flinch as the acidic goo crackled and sizzled as it struck the magical shielding and rolled off harmlessly. Though also inwardly amused by their fearful respect, Rai'dley gave a sharp tug on the reins to warn her beastly friend.

Algernon gently set the chariot down between the swiftly moving river, and the magical fence. The great ivory war machine was constructed from the skeletons of those who had not respected Rai'dley's authority. Algernon did not care to be another trophy.

The bones used for the chariot were stripped bare of flesh and carefully polished to a gleaming white. Strands of magic itself bound the bones of the chariot together. Algernon had to respect that kind of power. The impressible young dragon considered drawing such a creation a privilege.

Dragons don't take to servitude to any master, but Algernon maintained dignity in his position by not letting Rai'dley forget that his services were voluntary. Though young, Algernon was not too immature to protect himself from becoming enslaved while he worked things toward his own means. Right now, he often reminded himself, this Rai'dley served him. She had built quite a considerable wealth in magical items and other treasures. If Algernon worked it right, he figured he could get more than his fair share of the riches when the right time came. Until then, he was comfortable waiting and learning what he may from this admirably evil elf.

Rai'dley reached into one of the many hidden pockets of her new purple and black dress, and slid out a small coin. Stamped on one side was the likeness of a giant spider, the holy symbol of the goddess Lolth. On the other side was a picture of a serpent biting its own tail, the symbol of the First Family, Fa'Langa. This family symbol was her ticket into the Citadel.

Trying not to show her nervousness, she pressed the adamantane coin into her palm and calmly walked up to the spider-shaped gates of the fence. She could feel the magical emanations of the powerful enchantments from a distance, and her skin crawled at the pain those spells could cause. The coin was supposed to give her protection from these defenses. Even though it always worked in the past, Rai'dley didn't know how far she could trust her new "friends."

As she approached, Do'Sol shadowing her every move as commanded, the adamantane gates creaked open in rusty welcome. Hesitating only a little, she pressed through. The fingers of a million magics combed over her in unnerving tests. They sought out the coin, and only once found in her palm, did they relinquish. She wanted to thrust the coin before her, let them easily find their mark and leave her alone. But she would not give the drow who watched the satisfaction of her weakness.

Do'Sol followed, his coin hanging around his neck. A mindless undead, he held no fear of the magical wards, no comprehension of the pain they could cause. His dried leathery skin did not ripple under the probing of the magic. It didn't bother him at all. That was the beauty of the zombies, Rai'dley smiled. Nothing bothered them.

Once inside, Rai'dley waved the coin at the guard, knowing she didn't really need it. Rai'dley was the only fair-skinned elf any of the guard had ever seen, and they were not likely to forget her. Still, it gave Rai'dley a confident feeling of power to remind them of her honorary prestige.

The lines of male drow that guarded the gates to the interior of the great pillar parted, allowing her passage. Not for respect for her importance, but simply because she was female, the guard kept their eyes averted from Rai'dley's; as the males of this matriarchal society were taught. Stiff and cruel torture awaited any who might disobey this primary law of Mezzo'Dakmania.

Rai'dley silently approved of this respect. She pointed at Do'Sol with an index finger ringed by a small, bejeweled skull set on a silver band. She planted the command, "Follow and defend," in the emptiness that was his mind. Without the will to refuse her, the once proud warrior had no choice but to fall behind her, a respectable distance away. Behind them, Algernon impatiently padded at the stone ground with sharpened claws. Rai'dley, smiling, entered the Citadel.

Inside the Citadel, Rai'dley called upon the magic of a levitation spell, and easily floated up a magically protected tube to the highest level of the structure. This levitation power came naturally to the drow of the ruling families. Reserved for the first ruling family, this level of the Citadel would only allow passage to outsiders with the proper coin. Do'Sol stepped out behind her, into his former home.

The narrow corridor led to the meeting room Rai'dley visited often these past few years. Her negotiations with the drow were slow and hard fought. Large tapestries stretched from ceiling to floor along both hallway walls. Rai'dley felt the heavy stares of the guards that held their posts behind the fabric partitions. She could feel their gazes as they uneasily tracked her movements along the short hallway, and followed her with the sights of their crossbows. She was sure that seeing the undead Do'Sol following closely behind her unnerved them. She also felt confident that none would make the mistake of accidentally shooting the guest of the First Mother.

If having to wait for Rai'dley riled Mother Fa'Langa, the Matron Mother didn't show it. Much to Rai'dley's disappointment, the First Mother sat calmly on her throne. The large chair was shaped in the form of a huge spider, the symbol of their Dark Queen. As a symbol of the First Family serving this goddess, a large serpent wove its way around the legs of the arachnid until it reached its own tail to bite it.

Light was not common in the eternal darkness of the Underworld. In the aesthetic world of beauty and wonder of the drow city, they used light skillfully to focus attention where they most desired it. Two large, radiant cocoons hung from poles on either side of the throne, and cast a gentle glow on the face of the Matron Mother. While not brilliant by any means, it was just bright enough for the surface-elf to be able to read the woman's facial expressions clearly. Deep wrinkles cut into her face, revealing a very old woman, but her eyes lit with a bright flame of life. Mother Fa'Langa was not dead yet.

The meeting room was deceivingly large, with the major portion of the ceiling illuminated by a thousand points of light. Despite their twinkling purple hue, they reminded Rai'dley of stars. Combined with the two cocoons, the light in the room was not any brighter than a single candle. The light quickly dissipated into the hungry void of darkness hovering in the corners of the room. There, hidden among the shadows, her magical lenses of infravision revealed rows of guards ready to come to the aid of their Matron Mother.

Standing like statues on either side of Mother Fa'Langa's throne were the daughters and female attendants of the first ruling family. They ranged in height and dress; from tall, older women dressed in layered robes, to young, petite girls scantily clad. They flanked either side and stood perfectly still. All of their features were delicate and beautiful, yet bold, as if artistically carved from solid blocks of obsidian. This show of power and unity made for an impressive display of formidable strength. While the drow families constantly warred between each other, there was nothing as important to a ruling family as the Matron and her daughters.

Even the Matron Mother of the first ruling family, the most powerful female in all of Mezzo'Dakmania, closest to the beloved Dark Queen, couldn't help being nervous about this Rai'dley. Other than the occasional sacrifice, which Mother Fa'Langa hardly held conversations with, she had never met a surface-elf before, the traditional bane of the drow's existence. The drow were incapable of understanding the ways of these creatures; so foreign were they to their world. Mother Fa'Langa never knew how to take this one. She was both amused and outraged when the arrogant young elf stepped into her chamber, her long flowing gown in the sacred colors of purple and black. Only priestesses of Lolth were allowed to wear these colors among the drow. It infuriated her to see her being so disrespectful, but then she was also amused. Did this young child of a surface-elf think wearing these colors would win her the favor of the Dark Queen? If so, she had much to learn, and Mother Fa'Langa hoped to be present when Lolth taught her that lesson in humility.

More personally offensive, the Matron Mother objected to the silver crown that adorned Rai'dley's head. Yet still, noting that this crown held in place the magically enchanted lenses that Rai'dley needed to see in this dark domain, gave Mother Fa'Langa the satisfaction of her weakness. Lolth despised weakness as much as she did arrogance.

With regal control, Mother Fa'Langa sat comfortably and calmly. "No troubles in the tunnels, I trust," she smiled, intimating her guest's tardiness.

Rai'dley recognized that twisted grin, and knew that the First Mother was hoping there had been. "Nothing I couldn't handle, I assure you," Rai'dley replied, matching her evil smile.

Their mutual understanding of respect complete, Mother Fa'Langa quickly set to business. "I see that Do'Sol seems to be serving you well."

"As I knew he would. His blades are no less swift, his edge no less sharp. A fine fighter, he is. It is almost a shame we had to squelch his strong spirit."

"He does seem much more obedient now; more appropriately behaved for a male," Mother Fa'Langa noticed admiringly. While truly impressed, she did not want to reveal her pleasure and amazement to Rai'dley.

"A faithful slave," Rai'dley agreed, not losing an opportunity to promote her success. "He shall pose no threat to anyone but my enemies, now."

"Well, good riddance to that one." The Matron Mother pronounced as much to diminish his value as to explain her willingness to sacrifice such a strong warrior for Rai'dley's test. "He caused the death of my favorite mate during our conquest, one of our few casualties, praise Lolth. His torture now will suit him well."

"I trust, then, that you are pleased by that eternally pained look in his eyes."

"That I am, to be sure," she admitted, "as I am sure the Dark Queen is. We both anxiously await your next test."

"The army I promised you will be here shortly. You needn't worry about that. And, after the treatment," Rai'dley pointed to Do'Sol for effect, "they, too, shall be eager to do the bidding of their mistress. The facilities are prepared then?"

"The final preparations are being completed as we speak. We will be ready by the time they get here. Lolth will be quite pleased by the size of this amazing sacrifice you promise, and will surely grant us the powers we need."

"Of course she will be pleased. Do not forget that it was her divine inspiration that planted the seed of this plan in my mind and in my heart. All glory to Lolth, and Lolth alone," she repeated a common praise for the Dark Queen. Her devious smirk teased sarcasm.

"Death to those who oppose her," Mother Fa'Langa added, her serious stare attempting to correct Rai'dley's blasphemer.

Rai'dley simply nodded in agreement, careful not to upset the fragile bit of trust she felt she had gained by her display here today. She needed this unholy alliance.

However, Lolth herself warned Mother Fa'Langa about the strong ambitions that motivated this one called Rai'dley. Forever obedient to her goddess, the Matron Mother had carried out Lolth's wishes. She accepted the strange surface-worlder when the one the Dark Queen described had come to her with her plans to build an undead army. While Lolth revealed that it was her desire to make it so, she also stressed that it was Mother Fa'Langa's responsibility to keep an eye on this new tool for the Dark Queen. Lolth treated Mother Fa'Langa to some most disturbing visions, which still haunted her now. Those horrors described what would happen if she failed to keep this surface-worlder in her place. The First Mother had no intentions of disappointing the Dark Queen. "As long as you understand this, I'm sure there will be no problems."

"Believe, too, that it is my intention to carry out Lolth's plans, and that I will tolerate no problems. I am not your enemy. The enemies are those who live above, those who praise the other gods, false idols, undeserving of Lolth's powers. They are our enemies, and it is they who shall feel the wrath of Lolth."

"I have not forgotten; I can never forget, surface-worlder. Ever is it in the mind of every drow. The hatred burns within us always, for the surface races that drove us from the face of the world. They drove our ancestors into holes in the ground like rodents, to bury them alive there. It is our every desire to eliminate these enemies. But also, we do not forget that if it had not been for their folly, we would not have found Lolth. Lolth has shown us the way, aided us in our survival, and to her we owe all. Our obedience is to Lolth and her ways, and to her ways alone. We are forever her children, and it is our faith in her that keeps us alive still. That loyalty will never waiver."

The display of the drow religion impressed Rai'dley; but it never concerned her. Their faithfulness to her wasn't what she wanted. She required their services. Where she planned on going, she would have no need for the pathetic descendants of her ancestors, or anyone else as far as that mattered. "Good," she responded confidently, unshaken from the sermon, "It is that loyalty that I am counting on."

An unseen murmur ran through the attendants gathered there. No one spoke so blatantly, so blasphemously to the First Matron Mother like that, and it amazed them that she hadn't sliced Rai'dley down for her insults. Still, Mother Fa'Langa maintained her calm.

"Rest assured that the army will be here in time for the Festival. I shall return at that point. It will certainly be an unforgettable day for the Dark Queen. I'm sure that a sacrifice of this magnitude will bring you quite close to the goddess."

"And you as well," Mother Fa'Langa reminded her that this was not a selfless sacrifice for Rai'dley, either.

"And so it shall," Rai'dley agreed with a satisfied grin. "Until that day of glory, then." Without waiting to be excused, as was customary, Rai'dley gave a deep bow that was questionably sincere, turned, and left the way she came in. Do'Sol mindlessly followed.

Without warning, the First Mother made a silent motion, and from the darkness of the corners, stepped three male drow guards that blocked Rai'dley's path to the door. As they threateningly approached, Do'Sol leapt into action by the last command spoken to him, "Follow and defend."

With surprising speed and grace, the undead warrior leapt into the air. Doing a forward somersault over Rai'dley's head, he landed feet first on the chest of the first guard, drawn sword pinning the man to the floor. Without slowing for regrets or apologies, the once mighty warrior launched towards the remaining two foes, matching their synchronized swordplay blow for blow. While their attacks varied properly, high, low, slash and thrust, Do'Sol was a first male. This was a position accomplished through the death of many males such as these.

The drow on the right failed to parry a lethal blow, as Do'Sol's sword slipped through the hole in his defenses. It was only for a second, but it was half-a-second more than the skilled swordsman needed. Long sword clenched in bone hand extended into the heart of the young drow.

Distracted by the falling of his companion, the second was quick to follow. As the guard looked over to see where the other had been, a strong swing from the tireless zombie warrior cleft the man's head from his shoulders with a sickening sound. His body slumped to the floor as his head still rolled around Do'Sol's skeletal feet.

Do'Sol scanned the room for any additional threats, but the shadows remained still. Obediently, Do'Sol sheathed his sword and returned to his silent place behind Rai'dley, ready to continue following her command, "Follow and defend."

The conscious-less efficiency of her pet impressed Rai'dley. She turned for the glare at Mother Fa'Langa that the First Mother expected of her. A broad smile spread across the Matron Mother's face, and her approval was easy to read. Rai'dley didn't know what to say. Luckily, she needed no words. She simply turned again and walked out, this time without interference.

Once Rai'dley had disappeared for several long seconds, the quiet murmur among the attendants erupted into audible chatter. "Enough!" Mother Fa'Langa fumed. "Quiet now, or I shall have you all sacrificed! You, there!" the ancient woman pointed at random to the youngest of those gathered. "Se'Lena, my dear," her voice suddenly terrifyingly sweet, "Tell me, what do you find so amusing? Please, share it openly, not in whispers."

Se'Lena, Mother Fa'Langa's fifth-born daughter and youngest member of the First Family, stepped forward. The Matron Mother required this of her when addressing her mother. "Now, least daughter of mine," the Matron Mother insulted her, "tell me what you laugh at, child." Her eyes penetrated the slender frame of her dark elf daughter, who barely dared lift her gaze to look at her mother's feet. She could feel the stare attack her, making her ebony flesh ripple up and down her back. Her full crest of shocking white hair stood on end. The stare slammed into her with such force to strip away any ideas of revolt from her feeble mind; not that she would have dared foster any to begin with.

"I certainly do not laugh at you, most favored Matron Mother of Lolth, leader of the first ruling family of Mezzo'Dakmania. Never at you." Her voice shivered. She had made it a habit, in her thirty young years, to stay in the shadows; hiding from the piercing notice of her greatly feared mother. Now, forced into the light of the chamber room, dim as it was, she felt naked and vulnerable. She nervously folded her arms across her scantily dressed chest. She wore the costume of a young priestess of Lolth, having only entered the Order five years ago. Lolth designed the costume to barely cover the most private of parts -- in hopes to teach the young priestesses the appropriate humility of their position. In the long lives of the dark elves, higher priestesses of the Order were expected to dedicate hundreds of years to the service of Lolth before gaining a position of any respect.

"Do not toy with me, child. You are not worthy to speak the name of the Dark Queen. Neither are you in my favor enough to jest at my expense." Mother Fa'Langa's voice dripped with poison. Se'Lena had attended in her court long enough to know what was to come.

"I assure you, Honorable Mother --" she feebly attempted to defend herself. She pushed back her locks of shocking white hair from where they fell into her face.

"Silence!" the First Mother screeched. Her patience for disrespect was minimal, and the wrath of her rage was usually great. She made no arguments when Se'Lena's sisters moved away from her, distancing themselves from the inevitable retribution for their younger sister's insolence. They had survived their greater years only by respecting the unpredictable ire of their powerful mother.

"You have insulted me, and you have insulted the name of our goddess. For this, you pay the supreme price. For your sacrilege, the Dark Queen requires your sacrifice. So, in the name of Lolth," she spoke in a rising tone, moving a bent and aged finger to point at the girl. "I thus command you, Se'Lena, fifth daughter of Family Fa'Langa, to DIE!"

With this command word, a bolt of black energy blasted across the room and exploded into the chest of the beautiful, young girl, draining the life from her. That life force, freed from the girl's body, zipped around the room as a small, shining ball of blue light. The evil mother of the First Family of Mezzo'Dakmania snatched it up and devoured it like a frog snatches a fly from the air.

She cackled a hideous laugh, which echoed throughout the hollow, empty chamber that housed the kingdom of the dark elves. As the energy flooded into the ancient woman's body, renewing some of the life force lost to age, the distant echo ran an evil shudder up Rai'dley's spine. She entered a secret, magical doorway on her bone chariot, skipping the long journey through the tunnels, back to her castle on the surface.

A single tear trickled down Do'Sol's ash-gray cheek for the son Rai'dley forced him to leave behind again. "Maybe next time, Dai'Myn. Maybe next time," he promised to himself.

#  Chapter 4

# Cy'nan

Gerrod met Ace for the morn-meal the next day. He found Ace greeting patrons at the door. When he noticed Gerrod enter the dining room, he excused himself and signaled his friend toward a private booth in the back that he reserved for them. They slid into their seats across from each other. "Corinna came in late last night," Gerrod informed him. He wasn't sure if he should have, or let Corinna surprise him herself. But Gerrod was too ashamed of himself. He had to tell him; at least that much.

"Oh, how great!" Ace replied, excited by the news. "So how is she? Did you see her? Did you get a chance to talk?"

Gerrod struggled with the onslaught of questions, but Ace knew by the look on his face that they had spoken. "She wasn't feeling well," was all Gerrod could say. Ace was like a father to them both, and he didn't know how to tell him they made love all night long. "I hope she'll feel better after some rest."

"A quiet night at the Wefpub will do her wonders, I'm sure," Ace agreed, though Gerrod knew he still felt concerned. With a wave and a nod, Ace caught Helga's attention from across the bustling dining room. After finishing with that table, she made her way over to them.

Helga was a woman Ace had hired to help him with the inn and serving the meals. She was, to be kind, a giant of a woman. She stood taller than Gerrod, and lumberjack broad. But she always had a smile on her face and a kind word for the patrons. She easily hefted the huge serving tray loaded with her own fine-cooked pancakes, eggs, and sausages. In one hand she scooped up two full pitchers of juice and milk, juggling them to give the patrons their choice. Her peasant-cut skirt furled around her broad hips as she spun merrily from table to table.

Gerrod could tell by her wide smile that it amused her to be serving her boss. Ace usually preferred to help himself in the kitchen after getting Aric started on his daily chores. She spoke with them in the pleasant manner she usually reserved for the guests. She apologized for not getting them a bowl of hot eggs out sooner; and then poured large glasses of juice before heading off again to the kitchen. She disappeared in a flurry of skirt. Helga was always a blessing of sunshine during the busy morn-meal.

Over the years, Helga had become not only a valued employee of Wefpub, but also a dear friend and member of Ace's family. When Ace's beloved wife, Lauriana, died from complications of childbirth with Aric, Helga was quick to step in and help. The towering, plump woman was the only mother Aric had ever known. She loved him as her own, and Ace certainly appreciated all that she did for him.

Moments later, Corinna descended the stairway and joined the men just as Helga returned with the eggs, pancakes, and sausage. Besides a secretive wink and a smile, which Gerrod wasn't sure Ace caught or not, Corinna never brought up their passionate night together. Gerrod wasn't sure whether that made him feel better, or allowed the shame of his weakness to burrow in deeper. He would almost rather have had her tell the whole world and have the world hang him for his crimes. Besides, her willingness to keep their secret made him love her even more, and she knew he hated that.

"Corinna! Dear Corinna!" Ace greeted her with a light hug. "It's so good to see you again. You should have woken me when you came in last night. Gerrod tells me you weren't feeling right. I trust a good night's rest served you well?"

"Last night served me just fine," Corinna came back quickly with a sly glance towards Gerrod and a wicked grin. Luckily half-elves rarely blush, or else he would have given them away right then. "I see you've kept the place up well, Ace," she changed the subject.

"Thank you, Madam," Ace bowed his head respectfully. "I'm glad you approve." Dwarves do blush, and Ace's rosy cheeks showed his real appreciation for her noticing.

"Would you guys be able to go on an expedition today?" Corinna asked. "I have an old friend I must visit with some most urgent business, and I'd really appreciate your company." Her tone had suddenly grown serious.

"Well, sure, Corinna," Ace answered willingly, noticing her sudden need. "Just let me see to a couple of things, and I'm all yours."

"Yeah, I'm free too," Gerrod offered. For a moment, he felt another twinge of last night's guilt. He wouldn't let her down again.

Ace excused himself so he could 'go take care of things.' As Corinna got up to clear her dishes, Gerrod caught her by the arm. She looked into his eyes and decided she'd better sit back down.

"About last night," Gerrod began, "I'm sorry."

She beamed a warm, sincere smile across the table. That alone did wonders to banish any fears he had. "Oh, Gerrod," she giggled. "Please, don't apologize. It's all right."

"But I didn't want to take advantage," Gerrod tried to explain, "I shouldn't have."

"No, really," she assured him, taking his hands into hers. "It was very nice. Thank you." Her voice was sweet and sincere. "I'm glad we had that time together. It really helped me. I feel better today than I have in weeks."

"It's just that --"

"Sh-," she insisted. Seeing him still struggling. She leaned across the table and kissed him gently. "It's all right," she smiled. "Honest. In fact, I slept for the first time in weeks. It felt so good. When I woke up this morning, I knew what I had to do. I have to see Cy'nan."

"The old seer?" Gerrod remembered her tales of wonderment as a child growing up under Cy'nan's care.

"Yes. I haven't seen her in a very long time, but I know she can tell me what's wrong. Cy'nan always knew what was wrong."

It relieved Gerrod to see her take the initiative to at least make this decision. Maybe the old Corinna he once knew and loved would be back soon.

They left shortly after cleaning up the morn-meal. The sun was just coming up over the western horizon, and the morning air was still quite chilly. They walked faster than they might have normally. The cold, gray stone towers of King Lonnequist's castle could be seen from the inn, as it dominated the northern edge of the city. It towered over everything and everyone.

"Cy'nan is an old friend of mine," Corinna explained to Ace as they made their way through the streets of Oswegonia. "This is very important business, and very personal. I wouldn't trust anyone with this, except Cy'nan."

Even though it was still early morn, the streets of Oswegonia were bustling. Winter was approaching quickly, and the busy merchants were already trading in the Market Square when they entered through the northwest gate. The merchants would conduct as much business as possible before heading back to their homes, some as far away as distant Seagate. They would want to reach the safety of their houses before winter's long months of darkness overtook them on the King's Highway. Winter seemed to be coming early this year, a promise of an even harsher season than normal.

The Market Square was a very large, open area in the center of Oswegonia. The ruthless King's Guard heavily patrolled its framing high walls. Here dealers traded the riches of the world for men's soul. Merchants from every corner of Carrona came here to ply their wares. With them they brought strange and wonderful sights. In bright, bold colors there was strange and extravagant entertainment. Foreign sounds of music played on fantastic and wonderful instruments. Exotic aromas of herbs and rare spices filled the air. It was a feast for the senses, and a show that never stopped from sunrise to well past sunset. At night, bright lanterns lit the Square. Even though traveling could be very dangerous at night, many merchants would not fold up their carts or booths until they sold all their wares. Many vendors stocked enough merchandise to last them a week and would only return home for the weekends. Until then, they would either stay in the inns or sleep in their carts, tents, or wagons. The Square always guaranteed a good show.

Corinna led them to the northeast corner of the Square where she stopped in front of a dark green curtain spread across the entrance of a booth. Hung above the plain and drab curtain was a brightly painted, red and yellow sign that read "Mystic Cy'nan, Seer of Fortunes, Predictor of Fates." The only thing in front of the curtain was a tall stand with a large wooden carving of an owl roosting on top of it. The carving seemed so detailed, and so realistic, Gerrod had to look twice before realizing it was just a statue. The eyes held such wisdom that he swore he saw them blink. For a ranger, a man of nature as Gerrod was, this was unnerving.

The owl perched on the arm of a stand. The ends of the wooden perch curled into a snail's spiral. The end the owl was on curled down and around, while the counter-balance side curled up. On top of the standard was a simple round ball, and a small brass bell hung from the curl below the owl.

It was obvious that Corinna was familiar with the place, as she nonchalantly walked up and rang the brass bell. She didn't act surprised, as Ace and Gerrod certainly were, when the wooden owl came to life. It outstretched and flapped its wings, and gave a loud, piercing screech. It mechanically refolded its great wings and resumed its watchful, wooden stare.

As they waited for Cy'nan to appear, Gerrod studied the carving carefully, and was left only more amazed. Ace, as was his nature, was swift to back away from the bird. He gladly clung to the far side of Corinna's dark robe, refusing to remove his eyes from the strange wooden creature. Ace distrusted anything magical, and the bird was no exception.

Introduced by a rustling of the curtain, an old elven woman opened the green cloth just enough to stick her head through, pulling the opening closed tightly around her face. "Who seeks the wisdom of Mystic Cy'nan?" she cackled in an ancient, elven-accented voice. With her many layers of wrinkles about her delicate elven features and long, thick braids of silvery gray hair, it was clear that she was as old as the fates themselves. Her dry voice was as course as sand, made fragile by age, but her eyes were clear and dark blue. As quivering and fragile as her body was, Gerrod could tell by the clarity of those eyes that her mind was just as sharp and alive. This must be Cy'nan herself, he decided.

Those clear blue eyes darted about, from Corinna, to Ace, to Gerrod, and back to Corinna again. Thick gray eyebrows raised in sudden recognition. "Child!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Where have you been? You're late, you know. Come in, come in," she invited them, holding open the dark green curtain for them to pass through as she would a client.

Corinna led the way, followed by Ace, and then Gerrod. Cy'nan nodded to Corinna, but looked Ace and the half-elf over well as they passed through the curtain. Ace shuddered slightly as he passed through. Gerrod recognized that uncomfortable reaction as the fingers of magic probing over his friend. A magical field scanned Ace. Undoubtedly this field served Cy'nan well in her 'reading of the future.' A divination spell such as this would reveal to Cy'nan enough of the history of any one entering for her to put on a convincing show. This alone would be enough for patrons to pay the price for Cy'nan's 'words of wisdom.'

But Corinna, a long time friend and confidant of Mystic Cy'nan, had come for more than simple parlor tricks. She had business to take care of.

Cy'nan led them through the decorated booth she used to entertain her clients, and into the back of her trailer. The two-wheeled cart was as ornately carved as the wooden owl outside had been. It appeared to be too small to hold all of them; but with trusting skepticism, Ace and Gerrod followed the two women inside.

Once inside, the walls expanded to reveal a small cottage. While dimly lit, it appeared clean and finely furnished.

Ace fidgeted in his seat as they sat comfortably around a small table. The magical nature of the cottage bothered him to no end, but he patiently struggled against it in silence. Cy'nan, noticing Ace's conflict, smirked in appreciation of the dwarf's stubborn loyalty.

"So, Child, what's been keeping you?" Cy'nan asked. It was clear that Cy'nan already knew more than either of her friends had been able to pry from the secretive woman.

Corinna pulled out a necklace she kept buried under her heavy robe. On the end of the long chain hung a cross made of five precious gems. Four small diamond-shaped gems surrounded a single, large diamond-shaped stone, one at each point. The outer gems were red, green, blue, and yellow, with the large central stone of black onyx. These were all mounted on a pure silver backing and the entire piece hung from a fine silver chain. The stones were of obvious fine quality, and the entire piece was worth several hundred platinum pieces easily. Ace's eyes glowed greedily at the sight of such riches.

"I've been trying to find out about this," Corinna explained. "I thought it was a holy symbol for Sero Riema, but I don't think so now." Ace watched, mouth agape, as Corinna handed the fine piece of jewelry over to Cy'nan.

"No, Child," Cy'nan announced with a bemused chuckle and a knowing smile. Her voice, somehow, was not as cackling as it had been outside the curtain. "This is no holy symbol, though it certainly is holy; holier than anything mortals have ever made."

"I haven't been able to sleep since I've come across it, and I'm afraid much worse has happened to me because of it. I keep hearing voices in my head, but I can't understand what they're saying. I have visions, but I don't understand them either. I don't even know if they're just bad dreams; though I know I don't sleep." Corinna's face, normally pale, turned even whiter. "Tell me, if you can, what is this thing, and what do the fates hold for me?"

"Child, I have known you long and I know you well, but it is not my place to tell you these things," Cy'nan responded. She seemed quite bothered by this news, but this would not be the end. Corinna, though disappointed, was noble in her acceptance. "But Child," Cy'nan quickly offered, "there is one here who can tell you."

"But you said --" Corinna argued, confused by this sudden change.

"I said it was not my place, Child," Cy'nan corrected. But there is another here who is willing, no, begs to speak. You must listen, and you will hear."

Corinna, still confused, looked to both Ace and Gerrod. Both men simply shrugged, echoing her question. "Who here would speak to me so?"

With this, the old seer closed her eyes and held the necklace up. "The voice is within the necklace that yearns to be heard," she explained. "The necklace itself calls your name. Most unusual," she commented, more to herself than to Corinna.

Corinna was shivering with fear now, but she needed to know. It had become more than her usual, strong curiosity. It obsessed her, as if made mad, to learn the truth of the curse that had befallen her. "Please, then, let the necklace speak through you. I know you have the gift. I must know what it has to say to me," she pleaded. "Cy'nan, please, I must know."

With a great understanding of the role she must play in these fates, Cy'nan closed her eyes again, raising the necklace above her head.

"Hear now, the voice within.

Of fire and water, Earth and wind.

Of old and ancient times.

Of power and life,

Cryptic and rhymes.

Crying for loss and fateful twists

For secrets told and people missed.

For trusts of gods, displaced by men.

For thieves of gold, now and then.

Veste, forgive the Council Four,

Set to guard forever more

The Orb of the Righteous, evil and good.

Balance of nature, should and could.

Caught unaware by magic and thief,

(An unholy pact when they shall meet.)

Travel in time, caught by fate.

Retrieve the Orb, before too late.

Death of Carrona, death of men.

Winter comes, has no end.

Nature's fury, unleashed at last.

No power to balance evil's cast.

History's evil, repeats again.

Hateful race, where've you been?

Rising now to regain power

Rising now, hour by hour.

'Creation, Destruction, Power gone wild,'

Thus laughed Lolth as she smiled.

Return the Orb to its place.

Before it destroys all time and space.

Corinna fair, Corinna good,

Corinna now 'The Chosen One,'

Hurry now, right this wrong.

Hurry now, don't have long.

Thus cries out the voice within.

Go now, your quest begin.

Do not slow until work is done.

Do not stop until war is won."

With this, the end of the poem, Cy'nan began to tremble. She broke out into a fit of sweat while speaking, and now it seemed that her trembling arms froze up in the air. A tearful look of pain crossed over her wrinkled face as she fought to pull her arms back down to the table. Corinna rose and moved next to her to help if she could, but Cy'nan simply collapsed, face down on the table.

Corinna quickly lifted her head back and retrieved a small vial from one of the many hidden pockets of her robe. Cy'nan's color, while it had been a light shade of green, was very pale. However, after a few passes under her nose with the potent vial, Cy'nan quickly regained consciousness. Much relieved, Corinna put the vial away as quickly as she had produced it.

"You gave me quite a scare, Cy'nan," Corinna admitted. "I've never seen you do that before."

"The voice within is certainly powerful. Never have I felt a will so strong. It's a wonder this necklace needed me at all. It would have told you these things itself, Child, if only you would had opened up and listened to it." Cy'nan's breathing, while tired and heavy, was starting to return to normal. She took slow, deliberate deep breaths to help calm her aged heart down.

"Well, Cy'nan, I certainly appreciate your doing this for me. I know it takes an awful lot out of you, old friend." Corinna, her arms still around Cy'nan's shoulders, gave her a light squeeze of a hug.

"Any time, my Child. But don't be thanking me too much yet. You've got to figure out what it means. I just read 'em; I don't write 'em. You're on your own with this one, Child." Her hands still shook, whether from the reading or just anticipation. Cy'nan reached out for a pipe that hung on a rack closely behind her. With a simple magical gesture, a small flame ignited from the tip of her first finger. She used the burning digit to light the pipe before extinguishing it. She took large, long draws on the pipe, and within minutes the small cabin of the wagon filled with the pipe's sweet smoke.

"Just one last favor before we leave you, dear friend," Corinna hesitated before asking. She had put Cy'nan through so much, but she just had to know.

"You want to know what the fates hold for you," Cy'nan guessed. "Well, Child, I see much pain and trouble, but there are friends and love as well; that will see you through. You thought your adventuring days were over because you aren't as young as you used to be, but Child, the fun is just starting. With age comes responsibility. Believe me. Some of us just get more than our fair share, that's all. Don't worry about the fates, Child. The fates be fates. Ain't nothing nobody can do about that. Just follow your heart. You got a lot of heart, Child, and it knows the way."

Cy'nan closed her eyes as if concentrating on something, and then started wavering as if dizzy. She put her thin, bony hand back on the table to steady herself. "Reading that pendant must have taken more out of me than I'd thought," she explained. "I'd better be resting now, Child."

Concerned, Corinna debated whether it would be all right to leave her or not.

"Go on now, Child," she encouraged when she saw her hesitation. "You haven't time to fool with the likes of an old woman like me, so get going then. Don't you be worrying about the likes of me." Cy'nan made a gesture like shooing a fly away. Smiling, Corinna bid her farewell.

As they left the wagon, Corinna stopped in the doorway for one last look at her old friend. "The fates be fates, 'Corinna the Chosen.' Ain't nothing nobody can do about that, Child," Cy'nan called out to her.

Corinna closed the door of the wagon and followed Ace and Gerrod through the heavy green curtain and past the owl. They made their way back toward the inn.

"I know it's your business and all, Corinna," Ace observed after a few too many minutes of walking in silence, "but I didn't care for her much at all. All that magic and stuff, I mean. Don't seem to serve no purpose -- just a lot of hogwash and babbling to scare you. I wouldn't put no stock in it."

Ace had been silent the whole time during the visit and Corinna knew it was the magic of Mystic Cy'nan's that had corked him up. Now, away from the effect of the heavy dweomers, he felt free to speak his piece.

"I've known Cy'nan since I was a little girl, Ace. Since practically raising me, she has never served me wrong in all these years. She knows me better than I know myself, and when it comes right down to it, I trust her more than I trust myself too."

Ace seemed unconvinced.

"I understand your concern, Ace, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I can't afford to ignore what she said. I've got a job to do, and I'm going to need your help." Corinna stopped and stooped down to look the dwarf straight in the face so he could see just how genuine her concern was. "Will you help me on this one, Ace?"

Her plea was honest, her voice as sincere as it had ever been. Ace, his heart as big as a giant for this girl, didn't have any choice but to go along with her. "Now, Corinna," he consoled, "You know I'll back you on anything. It's just that I've got a bad feel for this one." He refused to back down or even let her argue. "I don't like it, and that's only the more reason to go and keep my eye on you."

Corinna accepted with a wide grin. "Thanks, Ace."

Gerrod felt the same concerns as Ace, but he didn't dare voice any opposition. He knew she would meet it with the same stubborn determination. She looked at him and he simply gave her a nod of agreement. It seemed like the old, take-charge Corinna he knew and loved was back.

# 

#  Chapter 5

# Uninvited Guests

Any seasoned adventurer knows that half of a quest is waiting, and the other half is luck. Fortunately, Corinna, Ace, and Gerrod met with more luck than waiting. It was difficult to know what it was they were looking for, working with what little they had to go on. Basically, they ended up spending much of their time waiting in the inn while their contacts were out looking for anything out of the ordinary. It was still a few days before their scheduled Reunion, and all the ranks of Wefpub had not yet gathered. They waited around, expecting Amanda and Allison to come in anytime, but they never showed.

Ace had his contacts checking out the castle looking for any recent political developments. Corinna had some friends of hers researching the Orb of the Righteous and any references to a Council Four they could find. Gerrod had spoken to a local druid he knew to see what she could find out, if this necklace was in some way a holy symbol of theirs. Together they managed to write down the poem Cy'nan had prophesied about so they could examine it for reference if need be. Not a whole lot of it made sense, but each of them put in what they remembered until they all agreed on its completeness. These activities occupied their anxious time spent waiting. Fortunately, it was only a day or two after meeting Cy'nan that they got their first bit of news.

One busy night, two of the King's Guard came stumbling into the inn. They were obviously drunk already, even though it was early in the evening. With their superior attitudes and callous respect for the people of Oswegonia, the Guard were always trouble. A king originally set up the Guard to protect him and the future kings of Oswegonia, but now they were little more than street bullies. When they got drunk they often became violent, killing with little or no provocation. They were usually most unwelcome guests, but this evening they were getting drunk for a reason. Ace set about, in his smooth diplomatic way, to find out what the occasion was.

Both men were huge, though the taller of the two was clearly much older. He wore a thick brown mustache and rugged features. A light dust of coloring in his hair hinted that graying was not far away. Ace recognized this distinguished looking man as LaBairne, the Captain of the King's Guard. His partner was slightly younger and sported a very large nose. He seemed to eagerly hang onto his commander's every word, taking in any morsel of lesson the elder man may offer him. Ambition flared in his youthful eyes. Ace suspected this to be Dougherty, LaBairne's First Officer.

"Good 'eve, gentlemen," Ace cordially greeted them as they bellied up to the bar, roughly tossing two other patrons from their stools and onto the floor. In their shining bronze armor, they made a formidable impression. Their polished swords hung casually on their sides, but Ace knew they were well trained in the use of them.

"We want ale!" the younger man shouted in slurred, barely understandable tones.

"Make it your best stuff, barkeep," LaBairne demanded as he removed his heavy gold-crested helmet and tossed it onto the wooden bar. "And don't try to pass off any of that dwarf piss on us either. We just killed a man for that, and the night is still young."

"Indeed it is," Ace observed as he accommodated the men, pouring their ales from the usual, cheap tap. "Be startin' a little bit early tonight, aren't we? What's the occasion?"

"Now that's good ale, dwarf!" the First Officer spat, foam from his mug flying into Ace's face. The barkeep simply wiped it off with his bar rag and waited for an answer.

"Butt out, dwarf. We've business to discuss, and it ain't none of yours," LaBairne barked rudely. It was the only answer Ace could expect.

Picking up on this cue, Gerrod innocently moved in on the seat next to them, where he could over hear their conversation without drawing anything more than a snide glare. He pressed in as close as he dared to.

"So why are we drinking tonight?" Dougherty asked, confused by the alcohol.

"Don't you remember?" LaBairne slapped at Dougherty. "We're being shipped out into the wilderness tomorrow night."

"The wilderness?" Dougherty protested too loudly, drawing a serious look from his commander. He quickly changed his tone. "But I hate the wilderness."

"Yeah, as do I. It's supposed to be for a real long tour of duty too," LaBairne agreed, frowning.

"Isn't it rather odd for the King's Guard to be hauled out to the wilderness?" Dougherty asked, though he knew it was.

LaBairne shuddered at the memory of his last trip to the wild. "It must be something really big, the number of guardsmen they're sending."

"That many?"

"Two hundred or more!" the unhelmeted man argued. "A whole damned brigade worth. You tell me it isn't something big."

"It's hard to believe King Lonnequist would let most of his troops leave the city like that."

"Between you and me," LaBairne whispered quite loudly, hunching close to the bar so Ace couldn't hear, "it ain't the good king who's doing it. It's that damned witch, Rai'dley, calling the shots on this one. Supposed to be hauling some chests of hers somewhere, I thinks. Powerful magics, I understand. Important, all right," he harrumphed, "We've got better things to do than to be moving her luggage all over Carrona!"

"Well, we'd better drink up, then. Sounds like we won't be in with the spirits again for quite some time." Dougherty paused and studied Ace. The dwarf occupied himself absently drying glasses at the other end of the bar. "What time did ya' say we was leaving?"

"We're to assemble at the East Gate at twelve bells high, can you believe that? Middle of the bloomin' night! That's why we're getting our fun in tonight, you see?" the captain of the guard responded with a wink, thinking himself quite clever.

Ace let the men drink their fill, on the house of course, as was the King's Guard's prerogative. Besides, this kept their tongues loose in case they could get anything else out of them. Satisfied with what he had gotten, Gerrod returned to Corinna and Ace at the other end of the bar.

"Rai'dley? Who's Rai'dley?" Corinna asked after Gerrod finished relaying the conversation to them.

"You mean you don't know?" Ace asked her, his wizened, bushy eyebrows raising to the height of his forehead. "It was almost a year ago. This sorceress by the name of Rai'dley came into town, went right up to the castle, and challenged old Zehrbot to a wizard's duel," he told her. "It was during the Winterfest, I remember, and the first challenge Zehrbot had received in a long time. Of course old Zehrbot was getting on in years, and Rai'dley did have some powerful magic. Between the two, the old man didn't have a chance. Didn't take her long to kill the poor old guy. Rai'dley's been the King's mage ever since."

"It's unusual that I haven't heard of such a powerful wizard. I really don't care much for that," Corinna admitted with a puzzled look on her face.

"Seems that Rai'dley's been getting in tighter and tighter with King Lonnequist ever since," Ace continued. "I'd heard that he's all but given over control of the entire Guard to Rai'dley. She can do what ever she wants with them. Maybe sending them out in the woods with her luggage is just a whim of hers."

"Two hundred of the guard, huh? That's a pretty big whim. It won't leave very many to guard the city. I can't see Lonnequist allowing her to jeopardize security like that for any whim. Gentlemen, I think it sounds odd enough to be just what we've been waiting for," Corinna concluded.

"It's too much of a coincidence," Gerrod agreed.

"There's only one way we're going to find out," Ace voted.

"Looks like we ride tomorrow night, fellas," Corinna decided.

"Let's spend tomorrow checking out our contacts to see if they've come up with anything, and meet back here for dinner. We'll be ready to leave with the Guard at twelve bells," Ace suggested.

"I'd like to meet this Rai'dley," Corinna smiled. "Maybe we could have a girl-to-girl talk." Somehow, Gerrod didn't think it'd be that friendly. Zehrbot had been a good friend of Corinna's.

"Sounds like a plan," they agreed before heading off to bed. They would have a long day ahead of them.

"What do you mean, 'She won't grant me audience?'" Corinna fumed at the guard standing at the front gate of Castle Lonnequist. Neither the formidable towering walls of the castle, nor the low-ranking guard at the front gate intimidated Corinna. She had been a welcomed guest inside the castle hundreds of times before. "Didn't you tell her who I am?"

"Please, Lady Corinna," the guard pleaded, "You must understand. Mage Rai'dley simply isn't accepting any visitors today, ma'am." The young guard shrank back into his red-crescent helmet, afraid of the wrath of the well-reputed powerful mage. "Please, don't take it personally."

"Won't see me," Corinna muttered mostly to herself in disgust as she turned and stomped off. The guard was never so relieved as to see the angry wizardess leave, and find himself still in one piece. Corinna stopped her tirade long enough to bury her hand inside her robe and fish something out of one of the many pockets concealed there. "We'll see about that," she vowed as her form shimmered in the morning light, and then faded from sight.

Corinna felt her body reform, like pieces of sand falling into place. She gave her whole body a shake. "By the gods I hate teleporting," she swore. It took her only a moment to realize that the magical charm had indeed worked, even though she didn't recognize the crowded corner of the mage's chambers. Large wooden crates, some over six-foot tall, stood in and around the spot she had materialized. She considered herself lucky that no one had placed any of the crates on the pad she used. "Otherwise," Corinna mused, "I might have gotten a good look at what was inside the containers."

The familiar old chamber room was darker than she remembered. Thick tapestries hung in front of the large windows, high up the tall walls. The vaulted ceilings were filled with thick layers of cobwebs, and Corinna considered that perhaps they used this room for nothing more than storage now. The very thought sickened her. This had been Zehrbot's private workshop, where he conducted his most secret and dangerous of magical experiments. Few people even knew of this room's existence, and fewer still held privilege to the special charms that allowed magical transportation directly into this sanctuary. Perhaps Rai'dley didn't know about the charms. Or, if the room wasn't important, didn't care about them. Either way, Corinna was glad the new occupant of the workshop hadn't created any protective barriers that had kept her out.

Corinna listened carefully as she made her way around the large storage crates. She determined that the majority of the room was still clear. As she made her way to the edge of the crates, she heard voices. Pulling her black hood tightly around her head, she dared to peek out to see where the voices came from. She prayed for the shadows to grant her cover.

"I'm still not sure we can afford to send so many of the Guard out of the city at once," King Lonnequist was warning a young, elven woman. Corinna could only guess that this would be Rai'dley. Somehow she seemed much younger and slender, and more beautiful than Corinna had pictured her. Corinna was more aware than anyone that magical power had very little to do with physical size. But this diminutive-sized elf was deceivingly delicate looking to wield such powers as people reported her to have. Certainly she must have been either quite powerful or very wily to have defeated an established mage such as Zehrbot."

"And I'm telling you, Lonnequist," she replied. An impatient, angry tone edged her voice as if she was a mother tired of arguing a point with a child. "I've located riches for you beyond your wildest dreams. The treasures I've found will not only satisfy your greed, but will prove enough to support this kingdom, tax-free, for your lifetime and more. Imagine that for your people, dear king."

"But to leave the city so vulnerable," he insisted.

From a pocket in her seductively airy dress, Rai'dley fetched a large red gem, and dangled it from a length of gold chain. The beautiful gem swung back and forth, back and forth, in front of the greedy king. With saliva drooling down his chin, the king was immediately captivated by the gem's sparkle, and willingly followed it with his stare.

"Now, dear king," Rai'dley's voice dropped to a smooth, melodic tone. "Imagine a thousand, no a hundred thousand such gems. All for you. You will have riches beyond your wildest dreams. I need the army of guards to go and retrieve it for you. You will be rich. The city will be protected. It is okay. Everything will be okay."

"Everything will be okay," King Lonnequist repeated with the same, calm tone Rai'dley spoke the words.

"It's for the best of the kingdom," Rai'dley suggested.

"It's for the best of the kingdom," Lonnequist absently repeated as if convinced by the words. The whole time, his stare never left the pretty, swinging gemstone.

"Now return to your throne," Rai'dley commanded. "You are needed there."

"I'm needed on the throne," the king repeated. "Excuse me, I'm needed on the throne."

"Very well, if you must leave already," Rai'dley chided, pocketing the gem and leading her guest to the door.

"Yes, I'm needed on the throne. Don't worry," King Lonnequist consoled, "Everything will be okay."

"That's right, you old bag," Rai'dley said, her voice dripping cruelly with sarcasm once the king left. "Everything will be okay, now."

"I thought he'd never leave," came another voice from the other side of the room. Corinna strained in the darkness to see where the voice came from. Suddenly, as if from the very wall itself, a short dwarven figure stepped from the shadows into the room. Corinna easily recognized Raygan, the crude leader of the Thieves' Guild of Oswegonia, and Ace's nemesis. A nervous chill ran down her spine, just knowing he was there. That could not be a good sign.

"Didn't you hear?" Rai'dley teased in a lilting voice, "Everything will be okay."

"Well, it'd better be, my dear," Raygan threatened. "I make a much nicer lover than I do enemy."

As if to appease the ill-tempered dwarf, Rai'dley moved behind him, and seductively wrapped her arms around him. She bent over to affectionately lay her head on his shoulder. Suddenly, her arms turned into green-scaled snakes that began to constrict around him, and a reptilian tongue hissed in his ear. "And just you remember, my friend. I'm a much more powerful mage than you can even begin to guess. You do as I say." She ended the illusion, and planted a large kiss on the gruff old dwarf's cheek. Corinna could see him flinch with repulsion at the terrifying transformation.

"So don't worry about Lonnequist," Rai'dley continued as if nothing had happened. "The army of King's Guard will be ready to march at twelve bells, and the next phase of the plan will be under way."

The conversation so engrossed Corinna that she didn't notice the huge spider that lowered itself behind her from the mass of webs on the ceiling. She had no chance of fending it off before it sunk its awful fangs into her shoulder. She screamed an alarmed cry as she knocked the nasty beast against another crate, but that sound had been enough.

Raygan's hand darted up to stop Rai'dley from talking. She started to take offense to this gesture, until Raygan pointed toward the crates and held his short, fat finger to his lips. As silently and quickly as the spider, Raygan darted across the room and grabbed Corinna by the wrist as she finished off the offensive spider with her dagger. "What have we here?" Raygan asked, roughly pulling her from her hiding spot. "A rather large black rat?" He shook her hand violently, until she released the dagger. The weapon flew safely away.

"Who are you?" Rai'dley demanded, but Corinna was trying to think.

"I'll tell you who she is," Raygan volunteered. "Mage Rai'dley, meet Lady Corinna."

From this distance, Corinna could see Raygan more clearly. With his thick black beard, he could have been Ace's twin, but she knew better. Raygan was nothing like Ace. To accentuate these differences, a large, ugly scar ran from Raygan's left eye, down to the corner of his mouth, where Ace had sliced him open a very long time ago. Raygan hated Ace as much as Ace despised him. Raygan smiled, revealing two uneven rows of yellow, rotting teeth.

"So this is the Lady Corinna that has done nothing but bother me all morning. Didn't you get my message?" Rai'dley asked wryly. "I'm not taking any visitors today."

"I'm sorry," Corinna apologized in her most courtly manner. "It's just that I must be leaving the city soon, and was afraid that I wouldn't get to meet the new Royal Mage of Oswegonia. I would be remiss in my courtly duties, if I didn't welcome you to Oswegonia. I'm sorry. I've been very busy as of late, and this has been the first chance I've had to get back," she continued. "It's been too long already."

"I'm sure, it's okay. I understand how busy you are. Your personal welcome is not needed," Rai'dley assured. "And unfortunately, today I'm too busy myself for such courtly manners. Your uninvited company is not appreciated."

"I'm sorry if I startled you, making such a clumsy entrance." Corinna looked around for effect, "The place has changed a bit since Zehrbot was here."

"Yes, well, before you leave," Rai'dley rudely dismissed her, "would you mind telling me how you got in here? I am, after all, responsible for the King's Guard and the king's safety. I would be 'remiss in my courtly duties' if I allowed such free, uninvited access to the castle interior. You understand."

"Oh, well," Corinna smiled in embarrassment. "You see Zehrbot was a friend of mine, and he gave me this magical charm that allowed me teleportation without error to this pad over there. It's the only one of its kind that I know of, so it is no threat to the king, I assure you."

"Well, I can never be too careful when it comes to the protection of our beloved king, now can I? Raygan, relieve her of that charm."

Corinna started to struggle, but Raygan twisted her arm behind her cruelly. The pain in her spider-bitten shoulder throbbed, and it was no use resisting the strong dwarf who ripped the charm from her grasp. Without leaving her side, or even releasing her wrist, he tossed the metal talisman over to Rai'dley.

The young mage studied the device shortly, before it disappeared from her hands in a dizzying, dramatic display. Corinna half-expected Rai'dley to produce it from her ear in a minute. Her fast eyes saw that Rai'dley had actually slipped it into a pocket. "You do know, of course, Lady Corinna," she spat out the title like an insult, "that magic use is explicitly prohibited within the walls of Oswegonia."

"Oh, yes, ma'am --" Corinna began, but was cut short by Rai'dley's rude interruption.

"And that use of magic, even from a device like your little trinket, is a crime punishable by death," she threatened, coming within inches of Corinna's face.

Corinna refused to allow anything to intimidate her. She didn't cower or even flinch. "I have been granted sovereignty by the court, to use magic in the course of my courtly duties," she calmly corrected. "I have the appropriate papers."

Rai'dley's eyes grew large, irritated by this inconvenience. She motioned to Raygan, who bullied Corinna with a sharp twist of her wrist, threatening to break it. With her free hand, Corinna reached into another of her countless pockets inside her robe, and produced a sheaf of official documents. Raygan again roughly snatched them from her, and handed them to Rai'dley.

After a quick perusal, and glancing disgustedly at the sigil of her predecessor, Zehrbot, a devious grin spread across the dangerous mage's face. She held the papers up for Corinna to witness, and simply announced them "Null and void." The entire packet of papers erupted into flames, and within seconds fell to the floor as a pile of ashes. "So sorry," Rai'dley satirically apologized.

"Guards!" Rai'dley shrieked. Within seconds, two large, muscle-gnarled soldiers bolted into the room. "Lady Corinna is an uninvited guest within the castle walls. Please escort her outside," she ordered.

With the same delicate finesse Raygan had shown her, the two guards grabbed her by her arms, and hoisted her out of the room.

"No! You can't do this to me!" Corinna yelled, flailing her small body around, despite the pain in her shoulder from the spider bite. But as she heard Rai'dley's cackling joined by Raygan's evil laughter, and the guards dragged her out the door, she realized -- she could. The embers of her official credentials going up in flames, burned deeply within her heart. There would be revenge.

#  Chapter 6

# Charlena the Druid

The next morning, Gerrod rode north out of the city, to a glen where he knew he could find Charlena, the local druid. His horse, Misty, calmed noticeably once they got outside the tall city gates. The old mare breathed in deep breaths of cool, crisp air. Gerrod walked her off the side of the stone-paved road, where it was easier on her unshod feet. The air was quite cold, and the winds were slightly breezier than they should have been. Most of the trees were already turning color. The rolling hills surrounding the capital city were ablaze with the golds and reds of oaks and maples. "Too early," Gerrod muttered to himself, feeling the breeze on his cheeks. Everything pointed toward an early winter; not a promising prospect.

The ranger left the road for a path that very few could see, and even fewer would be able to follow. The trees themselves seemed to hide the path with their branches, which parted to let him through. After a few hundred yards, Gerrod came upon the glen. Thick underbrush formed a ring, about twenty-five feet in diameter, around a grassy clearing in the woods.

The grass was a pleasant, burnt brown, autumn color. It reflected the gold and crimson of the trees that overlooked this bald spot in the woods. The sun shone warmly, the clearing protected from the chill winds.

Gerrod dismounted Misty, and left her at the edge of the clearing. He didn't bother to tie her up. He knew she wouldn't follow him into the clearing, and she would never run away. The huge black beast waited patiently.

He walked around the circumference of the small area twice. He searched for any of the familiar signs of passage; but couldn't see where anyone had been in the glen since he had left it a couple of days earlier. However, he knew the popular meeting area would have seen quite a bit of activity.

Frustrated by his failed attempts to find any tracks, Gerrod called out for Charlena. He stopped and listened to the echoing winds roll. Not a sound. He smelled the cold wind several times, though he knew she would never approach from the upwind direction. Truly intrigued by the challenge she presented to him every time he visited, Gerrod stood in the center of the clearing and called again. Silently, he quickly spun around. Still, not a sign of her. He quickly spun around again, in a full, sweeping circle, taking in every bit of the glen. Suddenly, as if by magic, Charlena appeared in front of him as he turned, startling him as always. It was just such an entrance, one of Charlena's favorites, which Gerrod had hoped to avoid by his careful inspections. He failed as usual, sending Charlena into fits of delight.

A druid, Charlena could travel through the woods and natural settings without making a sound or leaving any tracks at all. Her movements were as swift as a bobcat, and as accurate as an eagle's deadly dive. Her giggling laughter chimed in Gerrod's ears like the song of a sparrow. Charlena, an elf, was beautiful to look at. Her skin was pale and her frame was slight. Her long, straight hair was the color of honey. She wore a very light dress, spun from the gossamer wings of a dragonfly. Even though it was transparent, it was more decorative than functional. It only served to accent her toned, nude body beneath. On top of her head, she wore a crown of wild flowers, woven into a wreath of holly and grapevines. She was as beautiful as nature itself, and Gerrod complimented her on her appearance. This only served to send her back into childlike giggles. It was difficult to tell whether her laughter was from modesty, which he doubted, or at his embarrassed compliments. She always sensed that her nudity made him uncomfortable, though he had seen her many times before.

"How's Star?" Gerrod asked, only slightly concerned that he wasn't by her side. The ranger knew that his best friend, and usually constant companion, would be in the best of care with Charlena.

"Your pup be fine. He's been waiting on you," she responded in the melodious tones of the elvish language, even though Gerrod had spoken common. He had been spending so much time with the stone dwarves and in the city lately, that it had become his natural language.

As if on cue, a large winter wolf bounded out of the brush and into Gerrod's awaiting arms. Charlena allowed them some time to simply pet and do the usual roughhousing they did whenever they were apart, which was rare. His warm, soft fur felt so welcoming to Gerrod's touch again. He had almost forgotten how much he missed him in the last few days he had been in Oswegonia.

"What have you learned from your woodland friends?" Gerrod asked while holding Star in an affectionate headlock.

"I have learned much over the years; and in turn, I hope they've learned much from me. We are always learnin' from each other, as it should be," she giggled. She knew what Gerrod was asking, but preferred to have fun at his expense. "Unfortunately, there's nothing of what you are asking," she responded more seriously. "So far, nothing seems amiss in these parts. I'd be the first to know."

"The winds are stronger than they should be," he observed. "Looks like we're in for a nasty winter."

"Perhaps, but 'tis to be expected. We've had a very warm, dry summer. Seems only right to be making up for it. Without a good, wet winter, we'd bake for sure next summer. We need the water for spring. Have to keep my children growing," she smiled.

"How about any unusual traffic out of the city? It seems a large number of the King's Guard are set to be leaving in the middle of the night tonight."

"There hasn't been much business coming north lately. You might want to check with Illiana, from east of the city. She may know more about that. She keeps track of the King's Highway. Most any one not wanting to leave a clear path with that many men would have to keep to the highway," she explained.

"Sounds reasonable enough to me," he agreed. "I suppose no one's heard of the necklace before either?"

"I'm afraid not. Druids, as a rule, don't wear much jewelry, as you can see." She did a spin, showing off her nude body. Gerrod knew not all druids wore so little, but Charlena seemed to enjoy it. She explained to him once that it helped her stay closer to nature. It certainly helped him want to stay close to her nature. "Besides, here's the only holy symbol we ever need," she continued. With a fast flick of her wrist, she produced a palm full of acorns. "Of course some prefer pine cones, but for me, there's nothing like a big, tall, powerful oak." The thought sent a visible shiver through her body. She could feel the energy from all the oaks around her, and that energy flowed through her very being. "I'm sorry I'm not being much help to you."

"That's okay. It was a long shot any ways."

"There are many others, besides druids, that worship Sero Riema," she reminded him. "While it not be one of our holy symbols, it may be someone else's."

"Well, thank you. Please, let me know if you do hear anything else. I'll be leaving the city tonight, following the King's Guard. You don't usually have any trouble finding me, though," Gerrod commented with a smile.

"No, I be keeping my many eyes on you, Gerrod the Ranger, friend of Star. Don't you two be gone long, now. And try to stay out of those dwarven mines a while, why don't you? You belong out here, with us."

"Fare thee well, Charlena. I think I'll take Star out for the afternoon before I send him back to you. He'll know where to find me once I leave the city tonight. I promise, I'll be back someday." He heard a noise behind him and turned to see what it was. Misty was still there, and he figured it was just her rustling in the sun-dried leaves. But, when he turned back to Charlena, she had disappeared as quickly as she had come. Gerrod stared intently at the tree line around the still quiet glen, but not even a branch moved to reveal her passing. He sure did hate that.

Defeated, he turned to head back for Misty. Right there in front of him, stood Charlena, startling him again. Before he could react enough to even keep from running into her, she kissed him softly on the lips. "Farewell, Gerrod. Please do come back," she beckoned. Then, as if a dream, she skipped away gleefully, and faded gently into the trees as if she was a ghost. Not a leaf rustled with her passing.

By Mya, Gerrod hated that.

He decided the trip should not be a total waste, He breathed deep the cool, autumn air. It felt good to be out of the city, as it always did. While he tolerated doing business in the city, he knew his place was out in the woods. He felt trapped between the high walls of mud and stone. Here, the tree branches filtered the sunshine. It didn't blare reflections off solid walls. He felt the life of nature all around him, and he drank it into every pore of his body, like a sponge soaks up water.

Gerrod ran and played with Star all afternoon. They ran through the woods and sprinted across the open fields that surrounded the civilized world. Misty ran along with them; the three like a group of children playing in the sun. They played games of tag and rolled in the tall wild flowers. They drank from cool brooks and watched in marvel at the wildlife that gathered around, recognizing them as friends. Gerrod felt wild and free, like a child again. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he last had such fun. Far too long, that was sure, he decided.

At long last, after an entire afternoon of frolicking in the last of the warm weather for the season, Gerrod reluctantly said goodbye to Star. He returned to the city to meet his dear friends at the inn. He agreed to return to the city only because he knew that he would be spending his next night out under the stars.

Ace confirmed, by his sources, that the troops were indeed leaving the city by the east gates at midnight. They planned to sneak out under the cover of darkness, safe from the prying eyes of the city. That gave the friends time to go over their plans, such as they were.

Corinna used the time to brief them of what happened with Rai'dley at the castle, and what she had learned from her other sources. "I thought the Orb of the Righteous sounded familiar, but then I haven't quite been as fast on the uptake these past few weeks." She pulled out a small scroll and started to read. It was the type of scroll that Gerrod had seen churches use for letters, obviously a response to an inquiry of hers. "Listen to this: 'The Orb of the Righteous is a relic, believed to be crafted by the hands of Veste, god of law and order, as a sign of affection for Aria, the goddess of love and life. Kram, the evil god of jealousy, stole the Orb from Veste and cast the Orb onto Thear. The Orb landed in the Great Sea, where it exploded in the crust of the world, and erupted into a huge volcano. That volcano eventually flowed and cooled to become the four lands of Carrona.'"

Corinna looked up from the scroll to see the stunned faces of her friends. Gerrod had always heard tales of relics, items created by the gods themselves. But he had figured, as everyone else did, that they were just stories told to children.

Real proof of the gods, such as a relic, was extremely rare. Clerics agreed the gods couldn't have any physical, direct contact with Thear. They needed to survive on the faith of their followers alone. The One, the creator of all the gods, dictated it so. Theologians understood that the only way to destroy a god was by destroying all those that believed in that god. Without believers, and the faith they hold in the god, the god would be destroyed. Likewise, the only way the gods can increase their strength and power is to accumulate more believers and followers. Because of this, there was a constant war among the gods for the faith of their followers. Therefore, to be fair to all the gods, The One determined that none should have any physical contact with Thear. Such flagrant displays of power would upset the otherwise balanced war for the faith of the people.

If there was such a thing as the Orb of the Righteous, it would affect not only Carrona, but also all of Thear. Not until this Orb returned to where ever it had come from, would this natural balance of the gods be restored.

"'Return the Orb to its place,'" Gerrod read from their written version of Cy'nan's poem. "Question is, where is its place?"

"Not only that, but if it isn't there, where is it? Where does a thing like that belong? Certainly no place like Carrona, that's for sure!" Ace agreed.

"This is where we're going to need Amanda," Corinna suggested. "Our favorite cleric would know as well as anyone the ways of Veste. She might even have heard of this Council Four. 'Veste forgive the Council Four, set to guard forever more, the Orb of the Righteous,'" she quoted the oracle.

"Those girls should be here any day now. They never miss Reunion," Ace noted. Realizing that what he said could have been insulting, he looked at Gerrod as if to apologize.

"But with the Guard moving out tonight, we don't have time to wait for them," Gerrod pointed out, purposefully overlooking Ace's comment.

"Well, if we're heading east, along the King's Highway, then hopefully they'll go north at the Triangle. Maybe we'll meet up with them somewhere along the way. They'll surely be coming along the Highway from Crystal Meir," Corinna suggested.

"That's if the Guard goes north, and if they stay on the Highway. We don't know where they're going," Ace reminded. "I sure would feel a lot better with our cleric and her sister, in the party. Another strong fighter like Ally never hurts."

"I'm hoping we can avoid too much of a conflict. Even with their help, I don't think we could take the entire legion of King's Guard," Gerrod remarked.

"I'm just hoping that the whole thing isn't a wild goose chase. With our luck, the Guard is probably just going out for a forced march for the fun of it," Corinna admitted, a thought they had all feared. "In any event, we'll just have to leave word here for Ally and Mandy. They can either wait for us or try to catch up. We can't afford to wait for them and lose track of the army. It's our only lead so far."

Allison and Amanda were sisters. Orphaned at birth, the clerics of Crystal Meir found the elven babes and took them in. The Church of Corellon Larethian, the god of the elves, practically raised the sisters. It was their destiny to serve the Church that had given them so much.

Amanda, the younger and slighter built of the two young girls, quickly rose in the ranks of the clerics of their Order. She learned the ways of the Church and adopted the strict discipline of the religion as her own. She was a fairly good fighter, with a heart as big as all the outdoors. Her gentle, non-threatening manner helped soothe the pain when she had bandaged their many wounds during their earlier adventuring days. Gerrod had heard, after Wefpub split up, that Amanda continued to do missionary work for the Church. He hadn't seen either girl since. They all knew Amanda was destined to become High Priest of her Order someday.

Ally was the older sister, though they had always looked close in age. Unlike Mandy, who had fair, blonde hair, Ally had dark brown, almost black hair. Both were slender elves with lithe figures; but under her delicate features, Ally hid a strong spirit. For Ally, her ministry to Corellon took on a different angle. She developed a great interest in fighting and warfare. The power and strength of fighters inspired her. At an early age, she pledged to dedicate herself to Corellon in this way.

Her body was her temple, and she built that temple into a fine fighting machine. She piled muscles onto her slender frame, and honed them to a trim perfection of strength and endurance. She learned the ways of many weapons, and studied the strategies of combat. Whether it was a slender sword or a powerful mace in her firm grip, she pounded her way through hordes of evil creatures that threatened the people of the Church of Corellon. Gerrod had always admired her dedication to the fighting arts. She was but thirty-five winters old when she joined their party, still a child in elven years. Still, Gerrod could see promise in the young child that had joined their gang. She was certainly able to take care of herself.

Above anything else, Ally was a big sister to Mandy. As such, she swore it her duty to protect her younger sibling at any cost. They all knew, and eventually came to rely on the fact, that above anyone else, Ally would protect their cleric. Whenever the Church sent Amanda out on a mission, they understood Ally to follow as her personal bodyguard. Mandy, understanding this loyalty, rarely protested, though she was most often capable of protecting herself. Together, they made a powerful team.

"So it is settled, then. We'll try to get a bit of rest before the Guard heads out. I'm not sure if I can, but I'm going to try to get a few spells down tonight. We don't know what we'll be getting into," Corinna warned. "It'll be best to be as prepared as possible."

Ace and Gerrod headed off to their rooms, leaving Corinna with her spell books and the first watch. One of them had to stay awake. It wouldn't do at all to miss the leaving of the Guard. After studying her spells for a couple of hours, she came and got Ace for his watch. Gerrod's watch came last.

The sun shone warmly upon their faces. Corinna and Gerrod were in a field he knew well, just outside Oswegonia. He'd convinced Corinna to take a day off her studies to join him in frolicking in the warmth of the new spring sun. Corinna had even managed to shed her nauseatingly warm black velvety robe. While she was rarely without it, he persuaded her this was a special occasion. Gerrod had bought her a sundress, made from finely woven cotton cloth, and it bounced lightly on her frame as she ran through the bright wild flowers. Her dark brown hair mimicked the free movement, bouncing about her slender shoulders. He teased her awfully, and she gave him chase about the daisies and the black-eyed susans. They both laughed and giggled like children, and they were happy. More than that, they were in love.

After several feints to the left and the right, throwing her off his trail, Gerrod allowed her to reach out and catch him. He fell to the ground, pulling her down on top of him. Together they plunged into the long grass and flowered weeds.

Gerrod looked up at her from his prone position; at those soft curves of her face and into those wild eyes. Her silky hair hung in his face and tickled his nose. It wove itself in with his blonde mustache and short beard. She reached out with a delicate, thin-fingered hand, and stroked his face, pulling her hair from his mouth. She laughed at the sight, and he couldn't think of anything more beautiful in all the world.

With a single, quick motion, Gerrod shifted his weight and rolled Corinna over, placing himself on top of her. He held her tightly, and she wrapped her arms around him. They kissed a long, passionate kiss -- the kind that stops time. Their lips fused, as if they would never part.

Suddenly, Gerrod felt a hand grip his shoulder. Startled, he rolled over, away from the unseen person invading their personal romp in the wild flowers. As he rolled, he felt the ground fall from under him. He awoke on the floor of his room at the inn. Ace stood on the other side of his bed, a bemused look upon his face. Gerrod held a dagger in his right hand, drawn with instinct.

"Nine bells. It's your watch," Ace said calmly, the smile still spread across his face. "At least you haven't forgotten how to dream, boy." He chuckled as he wandered out of the room, not waiting for a reply. He slowly made his way down the hall to his own room, closing the door behind him. Gerrod wondered how much his sleep had revealed to the dwarf.

Recovering, Gerrod sheathed his dagger and straightened up his room. He made a half-hearted attempt at covering his bed with the furs and blankets there, before leaving them for the housekeeping staff to finish. He washed his face in the basin, pouring a bit of water from the pitcher on the nearby stand. Just the mere basics furnished the room.

Gerrod fumbled through the backpack slung over the post on the footboard of the bed. He fetched out a small can of oil and a cloth. Also, from the other footboard post, he pulled his trusty longsword from its sheath. In a mindless routine, he put some oil on the cloth and began rubbing down the blade of the sword. The oil kept moisture off the metal, and kept its fine edge free of rust. Taking proper care of his weapons was a duty of a fighter. "The weapon is an extension of a fighter. If he takes care of it, it will take care of him," so taught his mentor. Sometimes it would take years to condition a blade to the perfection of a great weapon.

Flicker was such a blade. With a particular thirst for the blood of orcs, Flicker had served Gerrod well over its many decades of service. With its magical ability to locate orcs, it was a fantastic weapon in the dwarven mines of Argunthu. It sought to seek out and destroy the foul invaders as much as he did. It cared nothing for the saving of any dwarven people, though. An insatiable thirst for the blood of orcs motivated its hatred. Gerrod held it by its well-balanced hilt, and softly spoke the command word, "Sh-zot." It glowed with a magical blue light that out shone the dimmed lantern Ace had set on the bed stand. One more oration of the command word, and the light quickly faded out of the blade. Of all that he owned, which was just about all in the backpack, this was his most prized possession.

In falling into the ritualistic cleaning of his sword, Gerrod had hoped to forget the dream Ace had awakened him from. That routine task completed; thoughts of the dream rudely crept back into his mind. It frightened him that there was once a time, too long ago, that Corinna and he could have been so happy and so much in love. It all seemed so far away, and he found a nostalgic tear working its way into the corner of his eye. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her.

He'd kept himself busy, refused to think about it. He'd tried to forget. He refused to let himself get upset over something he didn't have any control over. It was Corinna who had been in control. It always was. Part of him liked it that way. The other part was terrified.

It was somewhat like that when she left, too. While part of him knew why she had to do it, the other part wanted to fall endlessly into a rage of passion that would keep her close. Gerrod loved her so much. He had to let her go; even though it was against everything he wanted. Corinna had a way of tearing someone up like that.

For Corinna, her magic was her life. The two were inseparable. All that Corinna was, was in her magic. Nothing in the world -- not anyone or anything, Gerrod or even Corinna herself, could ever be more important to her than magic. It wasn't surprising when she was offered, what for her, was the opportunity of a lifetime. The elves, traditional guardians of the arts, as they call it, have always held a special bond with magic. They called it 'The Gift.' It was truly remarkable that Corinna, a human, seemed to have been able to possess this gift. She surpassed, in her short lifetime, the achievements of many long-lived elves five times her age. Corinna was magic, and magic was Corinna.

It wasn't even really surprising when she accepted the position. "Apprentice to the Arch-Mage of Midkemia." Besides the knowledge of magic she would glean off the Arch-Mage, which was the only thing that interested Corinna, she would gain fame and fortune. She would develop political contacts at the highest level, influences that would help her the rest of her life. This was her chance to prove herself and to be someone. Gerrod couldn't have asked her to give up an opportunity like that.

It was just surprising she would leave him to do it. There would be no place for him in Midkemia. With nothing but buildings busting up out of the desert sands, there would be nothing to offer a ranger. Gerrod may have even been able to endure that for her, but that wasn't all. There would be no place for him in the life of Corinna, Apprentice to the Arch-Mage of Midkemia. She would have no time for things like running in the daisies, and there would be no place in her mind for him, as she fully dedicated herself to the arts.

It was the very next day, after that romp in the wild flowers, that she bid goodbye to Gerrod the Ranger.

Just then, bells tolled in the distance, ripping into the silence that was the night. Gerrod counted ten bells. Had it been an hour already?

Gerrod sheathed Flicker, and stored the oil and rag back into his pack. (He tossed them in.) He went to the window and opened it. His window looked out over the front of the inn, and he climbed out onto the roof of the porch below. From here, above the glare of the torches and lanterns that burned all night long, he could see the stars in the clear sky above.

The frigid cold lapped at his leather greens, numbing his body. Soon he lost feelings in his fingers and limbs. "Ah, that's better," he thought, giving into the serenity of the numbness. But still, he thought of Corinna.

Now, she was back in his life, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. She was back in control, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for this. It had taken him a very long time, and the meaningless lives of thousands of orcs, to find himself again. He had to learn to take control of his own life, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to give that up, especially to Corinna.

Gerrod remembered how those embers of passion he'd fought so hard to extinguish, had so easily re-ignited at the sound of her voice and the touch of her skin. It would be so easy to go back to the way it was; to give her all the self-control he had worked so hard to regain. He could hand everything back over to her again, and he would be happy.

He would be happy until something came up again. There would always be more opportunities. There would always be magic, and it would always come first. She would never need him, and even though it would be fun and it would be love, he would never be the most important thing in her life. She would never love him the way he loved her. For that, he would always be empty.

The stone dwarves needed him, and they loved him, but then why shouldn't they? He was their hero; come to rescue them whenever they needed. He had saved their lives, the mines, their world, countless times. His blade paid for that love. They would love anyone who swung Flicker in their favor. They did not love him -- they loved what he could do for them.

Gerrod breathed in deep another breath of frozen air. The air was so still, so calm and peaceful. He could hear the clumsy, clamoring noises of the armor of the guards as they made their way up and down the length of the walls on their weary watches.

He could see glint of their all too familiar, polished bronze armor and their red-crescent helmets, reflecting in the clear moonlight. His familiarity with the pale globe told him that it was not completely full, despite its circular shape. Most people may not have been able to tell, but the moon was a friend of his. "Full moon tomorrow," he thought to himself. The moon had risen from below the western horizon, and was just now starting to climb into the darkness of the night sky. It glowed brightly, a silvery-blue, against the velvet of the diamond-studded sky. Now that was something he could trust.

On many nights, the cold pallor of the moon had been his warmest companion. Its regularity, its predictability, made it an inviting mistress. It would rise when it should and set when it should. The moon bathed the naked land with a cold shower of light, even during the darkest of long winter nights. It was safe, and it was kind. It was a guide that allowed him to follow it; it didn't demand he do so. The moon could cause him no pain. It could not break his heart. There was truth in the clarity of its light. There was clarity in its truth.

He would follow Corinna on this quest, Gerrod decided, not because she held a spell over his heart, but because he wanted to. There could be no more romance. He could not allow her to sweep him away like the raging currents of a flooding river. They would do this thing, but on his terms, not hers. That way, if she decided to go running off, he would be left with more than a shattered heart in his empty arms and the look of a dumb boy on his face.

A single tear formed in the corner of his eye, and slowly trickled down his cheek. He had never felt so lonely in his entire life.

#  Chapter 7

# Twelve Bells March

Shortly after eleven bells, Gerrod gathered up his things. He removed an extra pair of fur leggings from his pack and put those on, buckled the belt that held Flicker around his waist, and slipped into his backpack. Lastly, he slung his quiver of arrows over one shoulder, and his bow over the other. Gerrod carried his world on his back. It was time to wake the others and head out.

Ace was awake already. He slid out of bed and right into his trousers. He'd prepared his light leather armor from a closet where it had been stored. It had been a long time since he had occasion to wear it, and he struggled with the many buckles that strained under his girth. "Too much of the soft life," Gerrod reminded him jokingly as he helped him. Ace agreed. On top of his armor he slid a black tunic that hid his form, blending him into the darkness of the night. A small sling sack over his shoulder and a large steel helmet on his head, and he was battle ready, except for one thing.

From under his bed, Ace slid an ancient wooden box. Its hinges, along the length, were made of gold, and highly decorated. The wood was a beautifully finished mahogany, and even though a layer of dust covered it, Gerrod could make out the runes carved there. From what little dwarven writing he had learned in the mines, he recognized the inscription as a special honorary merit of some kind.

With steady fingers, Ace undid the complex latch, probably with several poisoned traps built into it. Once undone, he took a nervous breath before opening the lid. There, in all its splendor, was a double bladed axe. A scraggly cloth of leather sheathed the blades, but the steel handle was intricately carved. With its short handle, the weapon was just the right size for Ace. He pulled the weapon out and fitted the handle under his belt. "Now I'm ready," he said confidently.

Ace went down to fetch their horses from the stables as Gerrod went to wake Corinna. He stopped outside her room and pulled out a disk full of runes. He repeated the words of magic Corinna had given him. He knew that the many wards and protective spells she had cast upon her door would now allow him to pass through. Gerrod shuddered to think what might happen to someone who tried to violate the wards Corinna often placed around her. He envisioned gruesome tortures such as the melting away of a living man's flesh, or being over run by a horde of biting and stinging insects. Corinna didn't like to be disturbed.

Gerrod opened the door and stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. The room was dark, and the light from the lantern he carried cut a clean beam through the blackness. The silence was unsettling; he couldn't even hear his own breathing or heart beating. His steps did not make any of the familiar creaks of aging wooden floors. He recognized the effects of a spell of silence.

Gerrod made his way to her bed and tried to call out her name, though he knew no words would come from his mouth. It was common for her, he remembered, to cast a silence spell around her when she slept. She did this for several reasons. First, Corinna snored rather loudly. This spell kept the deafening tremors quiet, to not awaken everyone else at the inn. Secondly, Corinna talked in her sleep. In order to keep any magical incarnations from forming on her lips, which might trigger some magical spell or another, this silent veil kept her from mistaken, magical utterances. Thirdly, the silence allowed her to sleep more in peace. Not only didn't noises in the room disturb her precious rest, but it also kept any enemies from using any verbal spells or command words for magical devices against her.

Corinna slept flat on her back, closed eyes fixed shut. He could see her chest rhythmically moving up and down with great fervor. Her lips trembled at the passage of air, but the spell kept her silent.

In the tumble and roll of restless sleep, she tossed back her blankets. Her heavy black robe, rarely removed, was hanging on a peg hook next to her bed. She was dressed in a simple, light cotton nightshirt, which revealed her delicate form. He couldn't help noticing she had managed to keep herself fit and trim. She'd always been rather curvaceous, Gerrod remembered fondly, but she usually kept it well hidden under the bulk of her thick, black robe. With her hands resting comfortably on the flat of her stomach, she looked as peaceful as one stretched out on a funeral pyre. Only the constant heaving of her breath would have kept her from being ignited. He pushed that scary thought from his mind.

Gerrod approached her carefully. It was normally difficult for him to cross the worn wooden floor without constant creaking, but the spell took care of that. He glided across the floor as silently as a master-thief like Ace. However, as he approached her bed, he remained leery. Gerrod never knew what other surprises Corinna might have waiting for him. Once, he remembered, she had an invisible, magical shield surrounding her bed. He had walked right into it, smashing his face out of shape in the process. She sometimes set out guardians to watch over her as she slept, but that night he saw no signs of any. Besides, without sleeping and studying, he reminded himself, there was little magic Corinna was capable of doing. Still, caution seemed wise.

Gerrod reached her bedside with no problems, and sat down on the edge of it. Corinna was a deep sleeper, and she didn't notice his presence. She seemed so peaceful, and so beautiful in that peace, that he hardly dared disturb her. With a careful, quivering hand, he reached out and touched her on the exposed leg. There was no response, so he gripped her firmly just above the knee. Still nothing. Finally, he gently shook her leg until she stirred from the cobwebs of sleep.

She seemed a bit dazed at first, not quite awake. She tried to speak, or at least it looked like it from the movement of her lips as she sat up on her elbows, but of course there were no words. Almost as if annoyed by the inconvenience, she waved her hand in a magical gesture that resembled chasing a fly away. The room suddenly seemed to come alive, as sounds crashed in from all directions.

There was a bit of commotion on the guard wall outside, as an officer hustled his troops to ready themselves. The Guard was assembling to leave!

Corinna seemed to instantly snap awake, as she scurried about readying things. The light nightgown flowed behind her, billowing in the breeze of her movements. She disappeared behind a changing curtain with her robe. Without saying a word, she changed and reemerged with no sign of the gown. She no doubt stored it away into one of the infinite number of bottomless pockets that she hid inside the massive robe.

Seeing she was awake and about, Gerrod went down to help Ace with the horses. By the time Gerrod got there, Ace had his own mount, a thick boned, short pony by the name of Spade, all loaded down with packs full of supplies. However, Ace seemed to be having problems reaching Corinna's tall mare.

Ace knew better, of course, than to near Misty, Gerrod's horse, before he was there. Despite getting on in age, Misty was a spirited beast, and could be most difficult and dangerous for anyone but her master to handle. Over the years, they had established an understanding, so she rarely gave Gerrod any problems. Gerrod always felt, however, that it was Misty who was always in control of their relationship.

Frustrated, Ace moved a small step stool over to Thunder, Corinna's horse. He still had trouble tossing the heavy saddlebags over the top of the horse. Gerrod walked up to help him. "Don't see why you kids feel the need to sit so high up in the air," Ace grumbled. "Must be thinking you're royalty or something."

It was amazing. The same bantering as Gerrod remembered from all those years ago. Ace never did like their taller horses, which towered over his small ponies. It made conversation while riding interesting. He always held a fear that one of those tall legs would bring a hoof down to split his head open. And, on a bad day, Gerrod wouldn't have put it past Misty, just for spite.

By the time Corinna came out, they had her horse saddled and ready, and Misty almost done. She carried a staff and a small sack slung over a shoulder, which she tied onto the horn of her saddle.

Twelve bells tolled from the castle's time keep, and they knew there wasn't much time for conversation. They climbed on their mounts and made their way toward the east gate.

Oswegonia was a very well protected city. The guard walls, known to the locals as the Walls of Indifference, not only ran around the outer perimeter of the city proper; but they also divided the city into different sections. Each walled-in section represented another division of social class, and a different tax rate. These walls kept the people in the slums same as they did wild animals out of the rich, upper class sections. These walls were patrolled constantly to keep people from moving about on unauthorized business between the sections, which was exactly what the members of Wefpub were doing.

It seems that the more complicated things are made, the easier it is to get around them. Ace had a nice way of working his way around the city. Through certain connections, he had learned many unauthorized ways over his years. This was a time when that really paid off. They easily made their way across the expanse of the city. They moved quietly behind the dark shadows cast by the large, brilliant moon, and through unknown passages under the Walls of Indifference.

They arrived at the east gate, and into another hiding place, before the Guard left. They waited there, watching the mass of assembling troops, until it was time to leave. The troop's confusion, as they gathered into some semblance of formation, distracted their attention. This allowed Ace, Gerrod, and Corinna to secretly slip away from the city wall and into the woods. Once adjusted, their eyes picked up enough of the ample moonlight so, like the Guard, they didn't need torches to see where they were going. While it slowed their pace, it kept from attracting any unwanted attention.

They waited under the cover of forest while the Guard assembled into formation and snaked its way past and down the King's Highway. It was quite a stirring sight to see; the bold, confident bronze armor shining in the light of the moon. There were about a hundred and seventy-five foot soldiers divided into their familiar command groupings. It was the most Ace had ever seen gathered in one place. The guards tended to keep within their small groups, despite the mass of fellow guardsmen all around. The still, cool night air filled with mist from their warm bodies. With the harsh sounds of brutish laughter, the mist rose to the star-filled sky. They built no fires to warm themselves, and many paced around nervously, trying to fend off the impending chill.

Large carts mixed among long, slender lines of soldiers, which ribboned out four abreast. These wagons carried supplies for the army; everything they would need for their long journey into the night. War-horses pulled these heavy wagons. The horses were all different hues beneath their colorful tack. They proudly displayed the markings of the King's Guard on the richly decorated cloths they bore across their backs. Large plumes of breath escaped their warm nostrils, ready to strain against their heaving loads.

The command structure of the army rode horses among the men on foot. In the lead was LaBairne, Captain of the Guard. He proudly held a bannered staff in a polished rest on his saddle, boldly announcing the passing of the King's Guard of Oswegonia. Brandishing his gold-crested helm, he held his head high, as if this was a parade for nobility. A spreading smile let everyone know he was in his glory. Following him was a small band of his elite guard, whose duty was more to protect LaBairne than anyone else. They rode on fine looking war-horses, and other than their obvious, older age, they had only their white-crescent helms to denote their prestigious rank. Ace said in hushed whispers that most of the elite guard had been with LaBairne back in the old regime, when the Guard was still a thing of honor and pride. Their confident stature on their mounts reflected this.

Riding with their divisions, the rest of the command ranks barked out orders to their men, tightening lines and keeping pace with the whole of the group. Any important orders were barked down the line, until delivered to the pertinent parties. These commanders wore blue crescents in their helms, which picked up the light of the moon as well.

Some of the wagons the army pulled along stood out more than the rest. Instead of being filled to capacity, carefully loaded to make the most of their space, these carts carried only single, though notably large chests. These great chests were wrapped in heavy chains and sported proportionally sized locks. Other than this, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about them. Curious, Corinna scanned the parcels for magic, reporting that they did emanate a faint aura. Ace instinctively spit on the ground. Judging by the strained steps of the huge war-horses that pulled those wagons, they drew no lighter a load than the others. This must have been Rai'dley's "luggage" LaBairne had referred to in the 'Pub. Seeing these only convinced Corinna that they were on the right track with this lead.

They watched and waited, under tall elms and brush, for the last of the long parade to pass. They then waited a while more, only to give the army a fair head start ahead of them.

"Are they gone, yet?" Corinna asked, straining to see in the bright moonlight. The rear guard carried no torches or lanterns, as the rest of the parade did, and they faded away into the darkness of the night.

Gerrod squinted his eyes and stared. As he concentrated, the pale, dim grays of reflected moonlight were replaced by a thousand shades of red. He could clearly see the warm bodies of the rear guard glowing brightest, as they disappeared from sight. He looked to Ace whose dwarven night vision, or infravision as the elves called it, was much better than his.

"Yeah, they're gone," he confirmed. "We'll be safe at this distance. Without night vision, they won't be able to see too far into the darkness."

"Just like me," Corinna agreed, reminding them of her human heritage. The rear guard had slipped into the darkness of her limited vision minutes ago.

With paranoid caution, they stepped out of their hiding spot and into the openness of the King's Highway. The shrub brush, which lined both sides of the tree lines, was trimmed back from the paved roadway. Long ribbons of magically created stonework stretched out into the night, as far as the eye could see. The only stone roadway in all of Carrona, it stretched from as far south as Seaway, all the way north to Seagate. There was a large tee to reach the capital city of Oswegonia. The King's Highway sliced the lands apart and divided the territories. It was the easiest way to move anything such as an army over land, and that road called out to them.

The members of Wefpub were some of the rare few that, through some point of their lives, had traversed every bit of this roadway. The King's Highway was not for the weak of heart or the lone stranger to be traveling. For all the convenience it offered, it had its perils as well.

Many times the open road had called out to them. In their youth, during the wild times when Wefpub was young and so were they, they sought adventure and wealth on this road. Tonight it carried the King's Guard of Oswegonia off to an unknown destination, and like the favored days of yore, they chased after them on that twelve bells march.

Gerrod had always been a friend of nature and the forest. But while the King's Highway ran through some of the most untamed forest in all the four lands, he never felt comfortable here. The woods held a comforting closeness. It tended to wrap itself around him, inviting him in. The open roadway, stone laid down by magic-users in unnaturally straight lines, ripped its way across the land. It was an open wound that sliced through nature itself. Not just the forest, but the whole world separated to make way for its passing. Many secrets hid along the pockets of bushes that lined the path. Most proved not as inviting as the comforting forest.

The road had its own dangers. Besides the entire army ahead, that may not be happy to have adventurers tagging along to look into their business; there were always monsters and beasts that preyed on small parties as they passed. Gerrod knew, especially here in the open, that they were vulnerable to an ambush.

Several times they saw movement or heard strange sounds coming from behind the mask of fall foliage. Ace, who rode point, stopped in his tracks until Corinna and Gerrod, a few lengths behind, rode up beside him. He held out his hand as if to stop the sound of their horses with that gesture. Misty looked about nervously, and Corinna scanned the brush.

Ace pulled out his heavy battle-axe, preparing for whatever might be waiting to meet them. A low growl came from the left, or maybe from the right. It was hard to tell . It may even have come from both directions at the same time. A rustle to the left gave them a location, and all eyes darted to that spot in the distance up the road. Another rustle showed the shadow stalker was getting closer. There was no use moving from the middle of the road. They might have just as easily moved into a trap without knowing.

Another growl, louder this time, taunted at Ace's impatient nerves. "All right, come outta' there!" he shouted at the brush. The brush gave another rattle in answer, spooking the pony. Spade, took a nervous sidestep. Irritated even more that something might have the gall to spook his steadfast mount, Ace edged his anxious pony toward the noise. "Well, I warned ya," he said threateningly, preparing to enter the bushes or at least drive the offender out from hiding.

Corinna readied her staff to launch a spell Ace's way if necessary.

As Ace approached the area where the rustling came from, a large white wolf leapt from its hiding place, startling him. Spade reared on its short legs and fled, seeking the safety of Misty and Thunder. Misty let out a whinny that sounded a bit too much like laughter as Ace pulled Spade under control. At the same time, Gerrod slid from his saddle and got down to meet Star, who bounded up to him in a playful canter. He crashed into his friend's waiting embrace as always, and gave his cheek an affectionate lick.

"Why that flea-bitten dog!" Ace fumed, surprised and embarrassed now more than he was angry. "You could have told me it be your wolf, Gerrod!"

"What, and miss out on your expression when he came breaking through the brush? Not a chance, Ace. It was priceless!"

"That wasn't very nice, Gerrod," Corinna scorned, trying to suppress her own smile. "You could have given poor Ace a heart attack. Least of all gotten him thrown from Spade and sent the pony off running with our supplies."

"You're right, Corinna," I admitted, half seriously. "Sorry Ace. No harm meant."

"Awe, that's alright," Ace accepted, not willing to admit his shame of fear. "You know I love that pup."

As if it was an invitation, Star ran over to Ace and jumped up on his leg so he could get a petting from the old dwarf.

"He's been following us for quite some time now," Gerrod admitted. "He was just waiting for the perfect time. It was his idea to surprise you like that. I had nothing to do with it."

"I'm sure, Gerrod," Corinna smiled.

He returned a sheepish grin.

Star proved to be a good companion to have for this trip. In his playful, curious nature, he bounded up and down both sides of the road, flushing out countless birds that nested among the branches there. Occasionally he'd chase after a rabbit or some other shadow he'd seen, only to pop back out through the brush somewhere down the line. These surprise bursts from the bushes kept Ace and Corinna uneasy, but Star managed to make enough noise so you'd know it would have to be him. At times he'd come to try to get Gerrod to play, but when he told him he was busy, he'd go romping off again, understanding.

Gerrod was sure that a wolf jumping through that brush managed to scare more than birds away. It was comforting to know that he was never far away, should they ever need a friend.

At one point, the next morning, a large deer gracefully made its way across their path. It bounded across the road some several hundred paces ahead of them. They stopped in silent awe. A buck, it boasted a huge rack of horns. They simply stopped and admired the spectacle, and it passed by, barely giving them much notice at all.

It was not until close to sundown the next day that they noticed, on the distant horizon, the King's Guard stopping their otherwise incessant march for the first time. Leery, they waited a bit to see which way the guards may be going to head off the road. Instead, they made camp right where they were. No one ever made camp in the middle of the road. Travelers considered it the polite thing to do to get off to the side giving way to any traffic that might pass through. However, the arrogant Guard plopped down where they were, blocking off the right-of-way completely. Gerrod guessed that when you've got a whole army, you can set up camp wherever you want to.

Not wanting to be seen by the Guard, they made their way to the side of the road and slipped into the cover of the forest. The forest was unusually quiet, probably from the passing of the army. With its cover of colored leaves, the forest proved much darker than the open roadway had been. Corinna stumbled about in the void. They didn't dare build a fire or light a torch. The army could send scouting parties out to cover their perimeter. That would be standard procedures for them, and they didn't want to help the army find them. Any kind of light or fire would be a beacon to them in the darkness.

Ace groaned as he rose from his saddle, breaking the silence that they had ridden with for most of the way. Instinctively, Corinna and Gerrod both spun around at the sudden sound. "Sorry, kids. I guess it's been a while. I'm a little out of shape." Corinna and Gerrod couldn't help laughing as their stout friend hobbled around, exaggeratedly stiff from the long ride.

"I told you, Ace," Gerrod teased again, "too much of that soft life."

Not wanting to waste the energy, he just waved his tired response.

They tied their horses near their encircled camp, and groomed them. They rubbed down their mounts' tired legs with a paste Gerrod made to help soothe their joints and swelling muscles. They wrapped their legs with strips of cloth to hold the healing herbs in place, and brushed down their thick coats. They were all too tired to move, but they knew the importance of properly caring for the horses. They couldn't imagine being those foot soldiers, having made the long, exhausting march all the way on their own feet.

They kept the horses near their camp. Along with Star, they would help warn them if anyone neared. Ace and Gerrod set up snares around the perimeter, as Corinna cleared stones away for bedrolls. Exhausted and sore, they all drifted away to their dreams in no time.

It was hard to say what woke him in the middle of the night. It could have been the screeching of an owl, or the stirrings of some forest creature. It could have been a leaf falling in his face or the rumblings of his hungry stomach. Whatever it was, Gerrod was awake.

The ranger looked around to check the camp. The horses were fine, sleeping with steady breathing. Ace, too, was snoring away. His rounded form billowed up and down under his blanket. Star laid next to Gerrod, no doubt still chasing rabbits in his dreams. He gazed over at Corinna, but he couldn't tell whether she was there or not. With that black robe of hers, it was difficult to see in the dim, filtered moonlight. Gerrod blinked his eyes and concentrated, letting the red of the infravision float through. He could see that the area she had been lying in was still warm, but it didn't glow the bright red it should have. He scrambled to his feet and began to scan the area. He slowly turned, searching for any bright red spots that might clue him in on her trail. After making a complete circle, he returned to the most likely direction. He could barely see the thin tracings of what could have been footprints on the ground, leading away from her pile of blankets and the camp.

Gerrod made his way over to the tracks, and knelt down to examine the ghostly signs. They were Corinna's all right. A single set, so she wasn't dragged or carried off. She was walking on her own, which was good. The trail was fading quickly, as the heat of her soft steps dissipated into the cold ground. If the night had not been so cold so as to chill the ground so, he would not have a trail to follow. Leaving Star to guard over Ace, he set off after what he could see, hoping not to lose the warm trail.

She had traveled some distance, in a wandering pattern, before he caught up to her. It seemed as if she was looking for something. He could see her through a thicket of briars. This undergrowth was typically around a clearing, where sun and water could reach to feed plants smaller than the over powering shade of the trees. Gerrod's alert ears detected the babbling of a small creek. He stopped and hid in the bushes, to see what Corinna was doing. It was unusual for her to leave camp like this, and he feared some sort of spell was used to enchant his mage friend away from them.

Corinna's form was dark to his infravision, her heat hidden under the warmth of her robe. It looked as though she was making some sort of symbol in the dirt. The icy stream running next to her was so cold it appeared black to him. She dragged what looked like a long stick across the ground, her staff he guessed. First in one direction and then another.

He heard soft incantations. They sounded like a spell, but were soft and quiet. Next, to his surprise, she took off her robe and clothes and laid them down in the middle of her symbol. Without the protection of her clothing, she would freeze in no time. This must be some kind of enchantment, he decided.

Gerrod entered the clearing and startled her. Once she saw it was him, however, she didn't get up or even bother hiding her naked body. She sprawled out on her robe. The bright moonbeams shone down through the opening in the forest canopy, illuminating the soft curves of her slender body. The light bathed her in a blue-gray aura. The now perfectly full moon reached its zenith over the hole in the leaves above. He realized it was this clearing she had been looking for in the dark.

"Oh, Gerrod, it's you. Come on in and join me," she invited. She shivered as a chill breeze caressed the length of her body. Her skin exploded with goose bumps, and she giggled with delight at the sensation. It was a light, playful giggle; one he had not heard in a very long time.

"You're crazy," he replied, pulling his leather shirt tighter around him. Embarrassed, he tried not to look at her. Besides, just the thought made him cold all over. "It's freezing out here." It felt colder now than when they left their camp.

"More like exhilarating," she corrected. "Come try it, it's great."

"What are you doing? Let's get back to camp. I don't want to leave Ace alone too long."

"Don't you remember, Gerrod? We used to do it all the time, the summer before I left? Moon bathing! It's fantastic. I can feel the warmth of the moon beams on my body like the rays of the sun."

As quickly as his mind flashed back to those golden days and precious nights, when they went everywhere and did everything together, when he shared the most intimate of moments with her, he forced his mind back to the cold reality of the present. "That's only because your body's gone numb from the cold! Come on, Corinna. Get dressed and come back to camp."

"Go on, if you want to," she replied indifferently. She refused now to even look at him, preferring instead to stare up into the star-filled sky above. "You and I both know that Ace is more than capable of taking care of himself."

"You're scaring me, Corinna. This isn't like you. We're chasing an entire army to who knows where and what. We can't afford to be playing around like this. Who knows what's going to happen next?"

"Exactly, Gerrod." She was suddenly serious and stern. She sat up on her elbows and looked at him. Her dark eyes penetrated the bright moonlight. "Who knows if any of us will ever see this moon again? We're in deep this time. Rather, I'm in deep. You guys just got dragged in for the ride. I don't like it. Even if I do have my magic back, I don't know if I can protect you. I don't know what would happen if you ever got hurt because you were following me."

She was visibly upset, and instinctively, Gerrod took her in his arms and held her tight. It frightened him to feel how cold and damp her skin had become. She shivered in his embrace, but he didn't know whether it was because she was upset or because she was cold. He could feel the warmth of his touch flow into her, warming her heart as well as her body. "There, there. We'll be okay," he tried to comfort her in a tone he had heard Ace using before. It felt like a pitiful attempt to defeat her arguments.

"I don't trust this whole deal with this Orb, Veste and everything," she confessed. "I'm in way over my head -- I can feel it. I don't know if I'm going to be able to control what ever we run into, and that scares me." She paused to collect her thoughts, but her arms refused to release their tight grip from around him. "I know this quest is something I have to do, but you guys don't have to. I can't bear the thought that something might happen to you guys because I dragged you into this."

"Look, Corinna," Gerrod matched her tone, "I'll admit there was a time when I used to let you call all the shots. You were great at it, and I'd follow you anywhere because I loved you. But that was a long time ago. Ace and I aren't here now because you have some sort of spell over us. We're here because we're your friends and you need us. We choose to be your friends, just like we chose to come with you. I take responsibility for my own life now, not you. If something happens to us, it's because we chose to come. You don't need to take care of me anymore, and you're not making me do anything I don't want to do."

Gerrod couldn't believe he had said it, and he wasn't even exactly sure what all it was he'd said, but it seemed to work. She eased up her hold on him and sat up, looking dazed. The tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes had disappeared, and she looked as if a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

"Besides, both Ace and I are more than capable of taking care of ourselves," he smiled. She laughed more with relief than at his comments. She gave him another quick hug. For the first time ever, Gerrod thought it felt more like hugging Ace than a lover, but it felt good. For the first time, Gerrod realized, Corinna respected him as an equal, and he truly respected himself.

Corinna got dressed, requesting privacy, and they headed back to camp. Sure enough, they found Star and Ace sleeping like a log. Ace had never known they had left. The rest of the night went by uneventfully.

# 

#  Chapter 8

# Thieves' Triangle

Exhausted from their long ride, the members of Wefpub woke late the next morning, with Star licking at their faces. Ace quickly scouted around. He came back before too long, as Corinna and Gerrod picked up camp. Ace reported that the King's Guard was just starting to move out. They gathered up their things and headed out again. They ate their breakfast of rations in their saddles, not even taking the time to eat.

Very shortly into their continued ride, they came across the markers that denoted the beginning of the region known as the Thieves' Triangle. The three-way splitting of the King's Highway formed this 100-acre triangle. The north-south road split off to send a westward spur to Oswegonia. Where this spur split to join the north and south directions, a triangle formed. It was within this area that a large band of thieves gathered and operated openly. They attacked and robbed any who traversed this section of the roadway, exacting their own toll.

The thieves of the Triangle had become very well organized. Over their many years of operating so boldly, they found numerous new followers. By acting in a highly trained, military fashion; the thieves took over many of the large merchant trains by sheer number. They took who or what they wanted, and then usually let the train go on its business. This constant marauding forced the merchants to hire fighters and even mages for protection. These hirelings could do little but protect the lives of the merchants. Even Gerrod had gotten quite a bit of work this way. These experiences taught him to respect the efficiency and skill with which they operated. The thieves worked fast and with precision. They filed out of every tree and bush, deadly accurate with their arrows, and near impossible to defend against.

The thieves would have little to do with the King's Guard of Oswegonia. Many of the thieves were refugees from the impoverished slums of that city. Having either gotten enough money to buy their freedom papers, or more likely escaped, they were never glad to see the King's Guard. The thieves might have attacked the Guard on principle, if they wouldn't have suffered so many losses in the attempt. They had a great and highly trained army; but so didn't the king.

Ace rustled through one of the many packs that hung off his pony, and produced a red banner. He tied the flag to the end of a long stick, and held it above his head as a signal. Fortunately for them, Ace had connections. It was possible to buy safe passage through the Thieves' Triangle, if you knew the right people. The signal flags showed this payment, and as terrible and swift as the thieves' actions were, they always honored the signal flags, if you flew the right colors.

Hundreds of faces peered out of the thick, colorful foliage. Faces of every race and size peered out from behind every tree. Faces even hung above their heads, and they knew all these faces held bows, readied with arrows notched, aimed at them as they passed. Gerrod had traveled through the Thieves' Triangle many times, but he never remembered seeing so many faces in the trees. They rode in silence, prayers on their lips, that Ace's signal would be correct. Their silence echoed that of the hundreds of faces they saw. Gerrod imagined that seeing two hundred of the King's Guard ride through in full dress armor had been quite a parade. It seemed most of the crowd that had gathered for that spectacle was still around to watch their small passing. Either that or they were in trouble.

They continued on for several hours, that felt like days in the unbearable silence, not changing their unhurried pace. Star, sensing the people all around, stayed by Gerrod's side, and away from his bushes. When they got to the fork in the road, which defined the Triangle proper, it was not difficult to tell which direction the army had gone. The curious faces still lined the northern path, so that was the way they chose. There was little chance that the thieves and the King's Guard would be in league to fool them, and they hoped the army still had no idea they were being trailed. They trusted their instincts about the faces.

With prayers answered, they met up with the road coming from the South, from Seaway, marking the end of the triangle. With no signs to lead them elsewhere, they headed north. Sunshine glinting off armor ahead of them confirmed that they were on the right track, and they slowed their pursuit.

Three ropes dropped down from the ceiling of trees above just as they thought they were making it through without a problem. As a group of three young men climbed down the ropes, many more men swung out of the bushes from all directions. The thieves surrounded them, but this wasn't an attack; that would have come in a hail of arrows that would have killed them. Instead, they seemed more interested in talking, as they maintained their distance. The small group stopped.

The apparent leader of the group stepped forward. He was a large human, dressed in a leather jerkin shirt covering obvious leather armor beneath. Steel bucklers strapped to his massive fore arms, and plate mail shin guards supplemented the meager leather. None of the armor matched, as if plucked from a number of different victims as trophies. He pulled a green cap low over his face. When he removed it, as if out of politeness, his balding head of blonde hair showed him older than his companions. He took a couple of steps forward, but made it clear with open hands that he meant no threat.

"Fenwick?" Ace greeted him as if unsure. "Fenwick Cooper!"

"Master Ace, you old dog!" the leader returned, warmly greeting their dwarven friend with an open handshake and a quick pat on the back. "What a surprise to find you out here on the road again."

"These be my friends," Ace introduced them. "Gerrod and Corinna."

Fenwick greeted Gerrod with a clasped forearm handshake, similar to what he gave Ace, but met Corinna with a courtly kiss on the back of the hand and a bow. "Well met, friends of Master Ace."

"Fenwick was a fellow member of the Inner Sanctum from way back," Ace explained. Corinna and Gerrod knew of Ace's days in the organized thieves' guilds of Oswegonia, and recognized the tribunal council that had mandated the affairs and interests of the guilds. It was a matter of honor among the thieves, such as it was, to be considered for the Inner Sanctum.

"I thought you had retired a while ago. What brings you to the road again?" Fenwick asked, though his clear eyes shown a glimmer of suspicion.

"We're just three lost souls out wandering the highway," Ace replied with a knowing wink.

"The Boss said to expect the army of guards to be passing through, but said nothing of sending you to keep an eye on them."

"Well, it never hurts to keep an eye on your interests, now does it?" Ace asked coyly, playing along.

"Not at all, not at all," Fenwick willingly agreed. "So, what do you know of this unusual parade?"

"Quite the procession, isn't it? Makes for a fine show, I'm sure," Ace answered, indicating the faces that still surrounded them.

"A lot of men, to be sure. Have you been able to figure out where they're heading or how long they'll be out?" Fenwick continued to pry.

"Not that I'm able to say. You understand. I'm sure that the Boss will fill you in with what he feels you need to know."

"Oh, well, of course," Fenwick apologized. "It's just that my men have been waiting for this day for so long, and this seems like it's going to be our best chance. It's an unbelievable opportunity to have so many of the Guard out of the city at once."

"Yes, but here patience is needed," Ace assured. Now that he had caught onto Fenwick's intentions, he sought to delay it if possible, or even advert it. He warned the eager leader, "I'm sure the Boss will know when the time is right and let you know. Acting rashly on your part would not bode well with him, I'm sure."

"I'd never attack the city without his orders. I value my life as well as my position."

"Then let patience be your watchword, I warn. Now, we cannot be detained any longer. We must be on our way. I would not want to have to report that we had lost track of the army because you held us from our duties."

"Of course, the right-of-way is yours, old friend," Fenwick granted with a deep bow.

"I'm sure the Boss will appreciate your leadership in this mission, and reward your wisdom handsomely."

"May he look favorably upon you, too, Master Ace. Fare thee well."

With this, Fenwick and his men parted the way. The adventurers saddled up again. Led by Star, they made their way out of the Thieves' Triangle. They each held their thoughts to themselves, until they were surely beyond their realm.

Corinna pulled Thunder to a stop, even though they hadn't begun to catch up with the army again. "The 'Boss' is Raygan, isn't it, Ace?" She asked point blank.

"So it would seem," he answered, sharing her concern. "And he plans on raiding the city with the organized thieves of the Triangle."

"Might they have a chance of succeeding?" Gerrod asked.

"I'm sure that with the help of the thieves' guild inside the city already, they'd have a pretty good shot at it," Ace admitted.

"Too good," Corinna decided. "We have to warn King Lonnequist."

"But we also have to keep an eye on the Guard," Gerrod reminded them. "The threat to invade might also have been a distraction."

"Or it might be the whole reason for getting the army out of the city to begin with," Ace suggested.

"But where does Rai'dley and the Orb of Righteousness fit into all of this?" Corinna asked.

"Hard to tell, if Rai'dley's working with Raygan," Ace said. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Me neither, Corinna," Gerrod agreed. "What do you think?"

"Well, the King and Oswegonia are all the way back there," she reasoned. "We could either go back and warn them of the impending attack, or we could warn the army. Maybe they'd turn around to go protect the city."

"But that would mean blowing our cover," Gerrod reminded her. "I'm perfectly happy with them not knowing we're following them."

"But then going back to warn the King would mean going back through the Thieves' Triangle again, and that might make Fenwick even more suspicious than he already is," Ace warned.

"Well, we can't just sit here and not do anything. Even though it might mean revealing ourselves, I think we have to warn the Guards," Corinna decided. "It's our only real chance of protecting the city. Fenwick probably won't attack if he knows the army is on its way back. Without them, even if we did get back in time to warn the city, we'd still need the army to man the walls."

"She's right, Gerrod. There's not much we could do to help the city by ourselves. I never thought I'd be saying it," Ace chuckled, "but we need the King's Guard."

"All right, then," Gerrod agreed, "Let's ride."

The slow but steadily moving army hadn't gotten too far ahead, given their delay. With hooves clattering on the stone-paved highway, they thundered up the road. Finding discretion the better part of valor, they slowed their approach before they came upon the army so the sword-happy Guard wouldn't attack them before they could explain the problem. As it was, the ever-alert rear guard barely noticed them. As if embarrassed by their inattention, they quickly drew their swords against the small party.

"Halt there! Who dares sneak upon the King's Guard of Oswegonia?" A man on horseback shouted.

"Sneaking like a giant!" Ace huffed. A glare warded him off the offensive, as Corinna took over the encounter.

"Good day, Lieutenant," she greeted, noting the color of the crest on his helm. "We ride from Oswegonia to greet thee. We've news of importance for Captain LaBairne from the king."

The lieutenant looked them over well, and took whispered council from a fellow guard, never breaking his discriminating stare. He cleared his voice before speaking to sound more authoritative. He didn't motion to his men to lower their weapons, as the rest of the troops marched onward without them. Ten men remained behind. "I assure you, any official news from the king would not be left to messengers such as yourselves. We will not be fooled by your ruse. Speak now your true intentions, or be swiftly dealt with by sword."

Calm and thinking as always, Corinna didn't skip a beat. "Well met, lieutenant," Corinna continued. "The king would be proud of your vigilance."

The guards were taken aback, as Corinna had hoped they would be.

"But I am Corinna of Oswegonia. I have the papers to prove it," she spoke, lowering the hood of her heavy black robe. "By order of King Lonnequist, you are requested to take me and my friends to LaBairne, Captain of the King's Guard, lest you face the wrath of our good king." She gave the guard a smile, which while sweet, was not meant to be sincere.

The guard seemed alarmed, recognizing the beautiful mage of notoriety immediately. You could see the gears grind in his head, as the lieutenant scrambled to come up with excuses for his insults.

Mostly because she didn't want to waste any more time with this man, Corinna excused him and assured him he was right in questioning them so. "Now, to the Captain, please."

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Right away, of course!" He whispered commands to his second, the man that had advised him earlier. He then pushed his companions aside, so to be able to escort them to the head of the ranks personally.

His chest puffed out two sizes larger, as the lieutenant led the way past rows of men. All of this attention bothered Ace and Gerrod, who didn't care for gaining this much attention from the Guard, but not the lieutenant. He enjoyed all the attention drawn to him and those he escorted. Whispers of recognition spread through the different companies of guards. His gaze fixed ahead. His nose lifted high in the air. He strained his eager mount to slow to a trot, high stepping hooves loudly clapping on the stone. This was the lieutenant's finest hour.

With no help from their escort's unhurried pace, they finally reached LaBairne at the front of the parade of men. Just as the lieutenant was about to announce his findings, LaBairne dismissed him, draining all the wind that had puffed his sails on the long ride up there. He started to protest, but then realized it wasn't going to help. LaBairne gave him a glare that he shouldn't have had to give. Completely defeated, his head hung low as he made a hurried ride back to the end of the columns.

With a single hand in the air, LaBairne pulled the army to a halt.

LaBairne eyed the party with as much suspicion as the lieutenant had, and Ace and Gerrod slunk back, hoping he didn't recognize them from the Wefpub. He squinted, as trying to recreate that blurry, drunken induced vision, but eventually decided they were of no importance. His attentions focused on Corinna, whom he recognized easily. A frequent guest at the castle of the King, Corinna was a notable figure, and her ever-present black robe made her distinctive.

"Lady Corinna," he announced, bowing low in his saddle. He showed the powerful mage the respect that was due her. "What, pray tell, brings a lady of the court here to the wilderness?"

"I've news from the city, good Captain," she returned in a light, pleasant voice. It sounded more polite than she had been with the lieutenant.

"What news could be of such importance as to require such a prestigious messenger? Could not a few guards been sent instead?"

Corinna led his gaze behind him, to the long columns of guards still standing in careful formation. "Oh, well, of course." His eyes rolled at his obvious over sight. "So, please, what news have you?"

"There is reason to believe that the Thieves of the Triangle are planning an assault on the city walls. With the limited troops left in the city, they have an uncomfortable chance of succeeding."

"I see," LaBairne replied with a face so solid that it made even Ace sweat. He paused a moment, as if judging the weight of the news. "And you would of course have us return at once to the city to help ward off the attack, I presume."

"Of course! You and your troops are needed to defend the city and the King." His lack of concern or alarm at the news surprised Corinna.

"I see," was all that he said. With another wave of his hand, he started the long parade back up to a march, still heading north on the King's Highway.

"LaBairne?" Corinna called after him. Ace and Gerrod could only stare at each other in disbelief. "LaBairne!" Corinna shouted, but he never slowed, never even looked back.

Corinna didn't appreciate being ignored. She heeled Thunder into a gallop for the few strides it took to catch up to the leader of the army again. She placed Thunder, mouth foaming, in front of the indifferent man. Gerrod and Ace followed behind as quickly as they could react. "LaBairne, where are you going?" Corinna's face flushed with anger. Bright flames burned in her eyes. "Oswegonia is in trouble! It may be under attack as we speak!" she shouted. "Didn't you hear me?"

Word of the possible attack spread like forest fire down the ranks of men, all concerned with the news. The murmur silenced abruptly when LaBairne raised his hand; all eager to hear his reply.

"Yes, Lady Corinna, I heard you. You seem to be whom I take you for," LaBairne began, his voice strong and deliberate. He was aware that his men needed to hear this as much as Corinna did. "That is perhaps why it saddens me so. You see, Lady Rai'dley, whom King Lonnequist has given command of every facet of the King's Guard of Oswegonia; warned me this might happen. I didn't believe her at first, all that magic and stuff; but I fear I must, for it has come as she has said. She predicted that I would be approached by someone representing Castle Lonnequist with this very news."

The significance of this escaped most of those who listened, but Ace's disgusted reaction showed he understood better than the rest. He knew what was to follow.

"And it was the orders of Lady Rai'dley to ignore any such rumors of attack, and to complete our mission as set out for us." LaBairne swallowed hard to get the words out. His gaze focused beyond Corinna, past them all, as if trying to avoid the honesty of their eyes. "She predicted these messengers to be enemies of the kingdom, and traitors to the King." Another hard swallow showed the welling of courage needed to continue. "That is why I can not believe you, Lady Corinna. I have my orders, and I must follow them, regardless of whatever argument you may present. I have always respected you, M'lady, so you can see why this pains me so. I believe you, but I can't do anything about it."

Corinna stopped dead. She saw the pain, knew the struggle that was the Captain's, and could not fault him for his loyalty to the Guard. None of them could. While that loyalty had always been an admirable quality of his, it now worked against them. That, they had to accept.

"Now, please, M'lady," LaBairne pleaded with the last of his respect. "You must step aside for the Guard, 'or be dealt with accordingly.'"

"As you wish, dear Captain," Corinna nodded, and calmly led Gerrod and Ace off to the side.

They could see that LaBairne's words had traveled through the length of the ranks as quickly as Corinna's had. The angry, traitorous glares and whispered rumors of the men intensified as they streamed by. Even the lieutenant sported a disappointed, betrayed face. It was difficult to tell whether any or all had believed the accusations, but as they continued to pass by, it became more apparent; it didn't matter. They continued to march.

Still shocked by what had just transpired, the three adventurers sat there for a few minutes. The army had again disappeared around a bend in the roadway.

"That blasted Rai'dley!" Ace spat under his breath. "She's given Oswegonia over to Raygan and his men."

"It wasn't us that Rai'dley had expected to report to LaBairne, but a real messenger from the King, once the attack had started," Gerrod agreed. "So the attack is not only real, but certain."

"We'd better get back to the city," Ace suggested. He was already reining Spade back toward the city when Corinna called after him.

"No, Ace, wait." She had the same, distracted gaze in her eyes that LaBairne had had. "We'd still be too late and too little help. Either way, I'm afraid there's nothing we could do to help them."

"Well, we can't just let them at it!" Ace protested heatedly.

"There's nothing we could do, Ace!" Corinna insisted. "Rai'dley's made sure of that. There's nothing we can do."

"But what about Aric, and the Wefpub?" Tears formed in the corners of Ace's eyes. Corinna and Gerrod knew that all of Ace's world was back there in Oswegonia, and with Raygan taking over, there was no way to guarantee its safety.

"I know, Ace," Gerrod clasped his shoulder, as much affection as Ace ever allowed. "But Helga's there to take care of things. You know nothing will dare mess with Helga!" He tried to joke, but Ace was in no mood. It took all the dwarf's great strength to hold back the tears and rage that boiled up from that large heart of his. He would not let them flow to the surface.

"Remember, Ace," Corinna tried to divert his attention and anger. "This is Rai'dley's fault as much as it is Raygan's. We may not be able to stop Raygan, but we can still see what Rai'dley has in store for the army. We have to stop Rai'dley, Ace. Remember the prophecy?"

"The prophecy," Ace absently repeated.

"Crying for loss and fatal twists,

For secrets told and people missed.

For trusts of gods, displaced by men.

For thieves of gold, now and then."

His lips quivered with the passing of the words. "I'll get ye Raygan," he vowed. "If ye harm me inn or me lad, I'll get ye."

Corinna and Gerrod shared solemn, knowing glances. Ace would follow through, or die in the attempt. So he vowed. So vowed them all.

"Let's follow that army," Ace decided.

# 

#  Chapter 9

# Elixir of Life

"Are you sure you're reading that right?" Algernon quipped. "After all," the black dragon reminded Rai'dley, "it has been 1,500 years. Maybe your ancient elven is not what it used to be."

"There's nothing wrong with my 'ancient' elven," Rai'dley spat, scattering a pile of glassware onto the floor with a swat of her hand and a crash, just to accentuate her point. "It isn't 'ancient' to me. It's my native tongue, don't forget, 1,500 years or not. I know it better than the twenty other languages that I've learned." She returned to the open, red covered book that sat on the dais in front of the large crystal orb. Age yellowed and cracked the pages. She pulled out an eyepiece from a nearby workbench, and studied her ancestral tome for the thousandth time. Again she read and re-read the passage, convincing herself that she was in fact reading it correctly.

"This is the real book, isn't it?" Algernon asked.

"Of course it's the right book!" Rai'dley steamed. "Do you think I'd waste all this time without making sure this was the right book?" She flipped carefully to the inside cover and made a gesture over the blank page. An image brightly burned where there was none before. She held the page up for the young black dragon to see her proof. "See? That's my sigil I put here those 1,500 years ago. This has to be the same book."

"Well, it doesn't seem to be working," he stated the obvious. "You might as well drink a potion."

He was right, of course. Rai'dley's face had become sunken in, and her eyes were reverting to their lich-like black circles on pale white skin. Her wrinkled hands shook visibly as she reached for one of the four remaining vials on the shelf. The rest of her laboratory in her secret castle hid away in Bellow's Mountain, was a study of chaos. Books and beakers sat, piled precariously high. Spell components, both loose and in containers of unlimited size and shape, were scattered about, left where they had been used last. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs accurately gauged the traffic in any particular corner of the cluttered lab. But in the one corner of the lab that protected these treasured vials of potion, nothing was left around to threaten their safety.

Rai'dley studied her shrinking supply of the precious liquid with disdain. She calculated how long it could possibly last her, but knew it wouldn't be enough. Do'Sol's life force had proven quite powerful, and had lasted her longer than she could even had hoped it would, but it wasn't enough.

Always cautious, Rai'dley looked around as she drew the vial close to her. She could not risk anything going wrong once she opened the sealed container. Seeing only Algernon uselessly staring at the open page of the book -- he couldn't actually read ancient elven, could he? She broke the seal on the vial.

A foul, acrid smelling black cloud wafted out of the container, and hovered in front of Rai'dley. She savored the free-roaming life force briefly, but could not resist inhaling the wonderful, vile drug. She breathed deeply, and sucked the formless, lost cloud through both nostrils. As her system absorbed the energy of the life force, her body and her will were renewed. The wrinkles faded before her eyes, and she could feel life flowing back into her enervated, rosy cheeks again. Ecstasy washed over her, as the power surged within. "Ah, that is so good!" she thought, tossing the expended, useless vial over her shoulder. "If only I could get this spell to work," she cursed. "I could have this feeling forever!"

Her renewed motivation restored, she turned her attention back to the open tome, slapping the nosy black dragon out of her way. After studying the book for the thousandth and first time, she inspected the clear crystal Orb again. Exquisite in its clarity and quality, the perfectly spherical Orb rested, nestled in its stand on a nearby bench that was also notably devoid of clutter. Its beauty and purity insulted her, but not as much as its power fascinated her.

She had been there, 1,500 years ago, when this very same Orb of the Righteous created terrible, twisted monsters out of the meek and mild creatures of the lands. While only a novice, she had seen Algernon's dragon ancestors crafted by the power of the Orb before her, and she knew its potential. She would feel that power coursing through her. She was so destined. So why wasn't it working?

The buzz of an alarm filled the room and shattered her concentration. "What is it now?" she demanded, making her way to the scrying device that screeched for her attention. The small mirror focused on an image of Raygan as she made a couple of arcane gestures over its clouded surface.

The dwarf fidgeted about, as if he had to make in his pants, waiting for Rai'dley to respond. She knew of the dwarf's nervousness with magic and how he hated to use the scrying device. She enjoyed delaying her acknowledgment, even though she knew it must be important to motivate the uneasy dwarf to contact her. "Why, Raygan, darling!" she called into the mirror. "How nice to see you!" Her sarcastic voice dripped molasses sweet.

"Uh, Rai'dley? Can you hear me?" Raygan stuttered.

"Yes, darling. I hear you," Rai'dley responded patiently. "What do you want, dear? What's going on back there at Castle Oswegonia?"

"I, uh, just learned some interesting news I thought you might like, er, need to hear."

"Oh, please, do tell," Rai'dley encouraged, not wanting to waste time with such matters. She found her eyes roaming back to the book, and Algernon who was again staring at the page. "Hm," she thought.

"Well, Mistress," Raygan continued with difficulty after clearing his throat. "I just received a message from Fenwick Cooper from the Thieves' Triangle. It seems that the army has passed through there."

"Oh, marvelous!" Rai'dley exaggerated her enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear that!"

"But they weren't alone, Mistress." Raygan seemed to flinch as if bracing himself for an impact.

"Really? And who else was with them?" Rai'dley understood the value of trying to remain calm. Like Raygan, she too preferred no complications.

"Lady Corinna was seen tailing the army, Mistress, along with a ranger and Ace." Raygan again instinctively flinched as he said Ace's name, as if reliving the terrible wound that Ace had delivered to his face so long ago.

The news clearly upset Rai'dley, and she showed a sudden interest that Raygan found uncomfortable. "What was that trollop up to? What does she know?"

"Well," Raygan continued nervously, "Fenwick was duped by Ace into thinking they were under my orders, and so Fenwick wasn't able to get much out of them." He could sense Rai'dley's disappointment, and hoped the temperamental mage wouldn't take her wrath out on him. "They are definitely aware of and are following the army, however," he offered.

This was what Rai'dley definitely didn't want to hear. "Who knows what trouble they could cause?" she fumed. "I won't have those meddlers delaying that army!"

"But what can we do from here? This won't delay the invasion, will it?"

"As long as they aren't bothering the Thieves' Triangle, I don't see how they can interfere with that," she dismissed. "But I can't let them interfere with the army. Not now."

"What do you have in mind?" Raygan grinned an evil smile. Prospects of magical fingers reaching out across the lands and torturing his arch nemesis thrilled him to no end.

"Just leave that to me," Rai'dley said ruefully, contemplating several slow tortures for this Corinna herself. "Meanwhile, get your thieves ready. The city will be yours by tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am!" Raygan responded gleefully. This was the moment he had waited for all his life. He walked away from the scrying mirror, having even forgotten he was using the damnable thing.

Rai'dley made a gesture that severed the magical connection between the two looking glasses, and watched as the glass went fuzzy again. "Those cursed meddlers!" she screeched, scaring Algernon out of the tome again. "I'll rend that nasty bitch into tiny pieces!"

"But the Orb, Mistress," Algernon calmly reminded her. "Those potions won't last much longer, and you still need to get the Orb to work."

"Blasted!" she screamed her disappointment. "And I did so look forward to killing her myself. Now, I'll have to have someone else take care of those trivial matters." She swung open the wooden door to the lab, and made a melodic call down the hallway, where it echoed and amplified with the stone.

Minutes later, a short, piggish looking creature answered the call. A porcine nose between his two, rounded cheeks marked his round face. Tusks protruded through his fat lips, and his speech even had snorts mixed in. A dirty rag of a shirt barely covered the round form of his potbelly. Armor plates covered his back and legs, and his dented and battered helmet was at least two sizes too small. His whole appearance was disheveled as if he'd dressed and answered the call out of his sleep. "Mistress Rai'dley!" he called from the lab's doorway. He dared not enter the room that had such smells to turn even his stomach. "How may the clan of Bloody Eyes serve you?"

Rai'dley turned to face the despicable soldier from across the room. She had smelled him coming clear down the hall, and noticed that Algernon had moved as far away from the offensive creature as possible. "Snark, dear orc," she greeted him with the same charismatic smile she used on King Lonnequist. "How many orcs do you have in your clan again?"

"Five fives times two," he boasted, never able to count higher than five. He looked at his stubby left hand and recounted his five fingers to make sure. "Yup! Five fives times two!"

After a second of calculating, and guessing that the porcine man meant at least fifty orcs, she once again donned her falsely sweet demeanor. "I have a mission for you and the Bloody Eyes."

"Oh boy!" Snark replied excitedly. "It's been five days since we've been in your service, and we were waiting to get out of the castle to do some conquering!" He said with the enthusiasm Rai'dley liked to hear. She hoped they wouldn't get distracted and forget what the mission was before they completed it.

From one of her secret pockets, she produced a small metal charm. She looped a thin silver chain through it, and held it up for the squinting orc to see. "This belongs to a woman named Corinna. She is on the King's Highway, headed north, following a large army of men. I want you to find her and kill her, and those with her." She tossed the charm at Snark, and he picked it up from where it slid across the floor to his feet. He sniffed the item as a hunting dog preparing for the chase. Orcs have a tremendous sense of smell, despite their own strong odor.

"Yes, Mistress. Right away, Mistress." Without even pausing to be dismissed, the orc awkwardly bowed and padded his way out of the room and back down the hallway.

"And Snark," Rai'dley called out to him. "Don't disappoint me." The tone of her voice made Snark shiver at the possibilities. It was definitely a warning more than a command. He had no response, but to hurry his pace down the long corridor.

The tension of the Thieves' Triangle behind them, the trio began to talk freely, needing to hear the sounds of their own voices again. They told stories to try to keep their minds off what might be happening in Oswegonia. They reminisced about the old days and their countless adventures gone by. They carried on like bards, their years of experiences together giving many great, and many not-so-glorious, moments to recount.

For Gerrod, probably the most memorable was when Corinna and he first met Ace. They had hired him to help them get into a library in ancient Midkemia, which forever slipped into the sands of that region. While it was nearly an adventure they didn't survive, in the end it proved quite profitable for all. Ace's skill had impressed them, and they had been friends ever since. They regaled the details as if it was just yesterday, but it seemed a lifetime ago. Gerrod barely remembered anything of his life before he met Corinna and Ace, but he remembered enough to know that part didn't matter.

That afternoon, the great winds came. Straight down from the North, they were unusually frigid and strong. Bright flashes of colorful leaves were swept from their limbs and carried on the strong currents. They struck with such force to rip into flesh with their jagged edges. The quickly rising wind roared through the branches of the trees, deafeningly. They yelled back and forth, always guarding from what the winds might sweep into their open mouths. It stung their eyes and froze their ears. They pulled out their extra clothing and bundled themselves the best they could, but they could not keep out the strength of the icy fingers of bitter air.

The winds had risen out of nothing. The skies had been fair and clear all morning, but the winds pushed in clouds where there had been only clear sky before. The thick clouds stole the warmth of the sun from them, leaving them just that much colder. It was unlike any weather Gerrod had ever seen before.

The sky glowed an eerie yellow, and it began to rain, which quickly turned into sleet in the bitter wind. Sleet proved harder to face than the leaves. The freezing rain mixed with hail, the size of a fist. Ice balls pummeled them from above. The sleet covered the road below them with a thick, slippery layer of ice, and the unforgiving wind pierced their soaked clothing. Just when they figured things couldn't get worse, lightning exploded all around them and lit the low clouds as well as it did their terror-filled faces. Still, from what they could tell, the army had yet to give up. They knew that to keep moving was the only way to stay warm and stay alive.

So they marched relentlessly, pushing themselves and their mounts past what could be expected, and kept constant prayers on their blue, frozen lips. Their heads bent low, not able to sit up and face the onslaught of terrible, unexplained weather. With the thunder clashing in their ears, and the howling winds shaking their tired horses, there was an unmistakable tremor beneath their mounts' feet. Misty scampered and struggled to keep her footing on the slick, ice covered stone road. Ace's pony lay down, but fortunately wasn't hurt by the fall. Thunder was forced off the road to seek the less slick grassy area between the roadway and the tree line. The proud steed dug in hard, and pulled itself back up the steep embankment to the roadway again.

This storm lasted the better part of the day, unrelenting and never lessening. They'd never seen a storm of such force last so long.

Then, as quickly as the gale force winds had come, they stopped, leaving the frozen adventurers leaning forward in their saddles. This gave them a much-needed rest, and they were able to relax some. However, before the darkness of night settled in, it began to snow. Even though the King's Highway was slowly taking them up into the mountains, this storm was unprecedented. Winter was not due for almost two months. It had never snowed before the fall festival for as long as any of them could remember, which was for a hundred years at least for Ace. He was the oldest. They all looked at each other, but no one would say it. Their silence agreed. Could this be the effect of the Orb of the Righteous?

Animals of all sizes and sorts scurried around them, caught unaware by the sudden snowfall. If winter started this early, without giving time enough to gather food, many animals and people would be dead before spring came. It shook Gerrod terribly to see nature itself fall apart all around him, but he never could have imagined how bad things would get.

The verse of Cy'nan's mysterious prophecy repeated over and over in his head.

"Death of Carrona, death of men.

Winter comes, has no end.

Nature's fury, unleashed at last.

No power to balance evil's cast."

Gerrod couldn't help respecting the nature of the world that he loved; but right then, he couldn't help being afraid -- very afraid. He did not care to see the effects of nature's fury unleashed.

# 

#  Chapter 10

# Star Shyne

It continued to snow for days, non-stop, day and night. The roadway became deep with slush; first ankle high and then calf, and eventually knee deep. The steps of two hundred guardsmen and horses ahead of them pounded the new fallen snow. Much to the cursing of LaBairne, and to Gerrod and his friends' delight, the trail was unmistakable. Only the storm threatened to fill in the trail. They matched pace with the army as they trudged onward in the freakish, premature winter.

As the snow fell, so did the temperature. Nights became unbearable without a fire. They had to risk it, despite their better judgment. They piled all the furs they had with them on their sleeping bodies. The cold wetness of the snowy ground soaked both, the furs and them. Neither they nor their furs would dry by the next night, and it was all they could do to keep from freezing solid. They all caught colds; their miserable sneezing and coughs echoing in the suddenly dead forest. Only the muffling snow dampened the sound. They were cruelly reminded why people didn't travel in the winters of Carrona.

Even on the smooth King's Highway, they could only hope for a slow crawl; enough to keep them from freezing to the roadway. Even Star, who was always warm under his thick fur, shivered from the relentless weather. Gerrod could tell that Star's legs ached from the uncomfortable position of riding across Misty, but the wolf tired from the cold and the endless pace otherwise.

As they made their way northward, they rose up into the mountains. The King's Highway quickly turned into an icy obstacle. The horses had difficulty getting traction on the ice-covered stone. Several times they were forced to get off the road completely, and follow the softer ground along the sides of the paving stones. They shod the horses' hooves with fur, trying to keep them dry and free of frostbite. They kept moving just to keep warm.

Because of the weather, the army didn't dare stop any more than necessary. And, as long as they kept on marching, the party was forced to follow them. They marched right on through what were known as the dark days, the last three days of their ten-day weeks, or the weekend. Traveling or conducting business on these days was normally unacceptable. It was said that to do these things was to bring the wrath of the demons, which hold these days as holy, down upon you. A curse from the gods; it was just what they needed to top off this wonderful journey. Of course it continued to snow, right on through these days as well, not lightening their spirits any.

On Maglubiday, the second of the dark days, the wind began to pick up again, driving the heavy snow sideways across their path. This reduced their visibility down to a few feet. At times, they even lost sight of each other, and they were forced to only guess which way the road may be going. They stayed close together, and tethered their mounts to each other, so as not to lose anyone. The wind howled in mournful cries.

Freezing and exhausted, Gerrod knew he had to do something, or else they would all go mad. With the three of them riding close together in a huddled fashion, and struggling to keep his voice above the wailing of the wind, Gerrod reminded them of the story of how he had come across Star. His memory was inspired by the relentless winter storm, and by Star, who laid across his lap like a heavy quilt. While Star was never a big fan of riding, especially when he could be galloping through the winter snows, Gerrod asked him to rest. He knew they would need him to be alert for them later, keeping watch while they tried to sleep. Although he lacked the energy to do anything but hold onto the saddle horn, Star managed to help keep him warm.

Some seventeen winters before, Gerrod reminded his friends, they were traveling along a stretch of the King's Highway such as this, when he had heard something unusual. It was more than a sound, for neither Corinna nor Ace had heard it. Before he could find any kind of explanation, he suddenly received an image in his head -- a picture of a place. This image was surprisingly clear, and while not a memory or a dream, Gerrod knew exactly where this place was. He could feel that this place was not more than a few hundred paces off the road, so he motioned his friends to follow.

It was then that he had felt a stabbing pain, as if his left arm was broken. Gerrod grabbed his uninjured limb, and held it tight against him. He was forced to cry out when he thought he could withstand the overwhelming pain no more. As if to echo his own cry, came the baying of a wolf, not too distant from them. Corinna and Ace stopped short, but Gerrod continued a few more feet ahead of them.

"Gerrod!" Corinna shouted, "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did," he acknowledged, though he barely heard her. His mind was focused on the picture in his head, and on the incessant throbbing of his arm. He clutched it tighter to him, but it comforted him little.

"Are you all right, lad?" Ace asked. He referred to both his arm and his desire to continue, despite the wolf.

"He's hurt," he explained. "I have to go help him." Without looking, Gerrod saw the shared concern on both Ace and Corinna's faces. "Don't worry," he assured them, "You don't have to come."

He kicked at Misty, and persuaded her to enter the woods. Her ears perked backwards in protest. His only worry was to find that wolf. Ace and Corinna were accustomed to him wandering off the path to help various lost animals; but for some reason, they recognized his undeniable need to do this. He knew that an injured wolf could be dangerous, even when approached with the best of intentions. He knew that if he could get close enough to help it, it would be close enough to kill him. But the wolf cried out again. This time he clearly heard the sound on the inside of his head. The mournful cry echoed within his skull, and his head felt like it would burst. Without further conversation, he urged Misty on. Reluctantly, she plodded onward, fighting against the instincts that begged her to run from the terrible sound.

Gerrod didn't think about where he was going; he simply guided Misty left and then right, working their way through the forest and the snow, to the wolf. A few minutes later, they found him at the bottom of a large pit trap.

Normally the wolf would have managed to jump out of it, but he had broken his left front leg. This was the limb that corresponded to Gerrod's aching arm. The wolf hobbled about, pacing on his three good limbs.

"Why, hello there," Gerrod greeted him in a soothing voice. He looked into the pit tentatively, though he felt no fear. At the sound of his voice, the beautiful, sweat-slicked beast sat. Looking up at Gerrod, the wolf waved its injured paw in the air, as if to tell him about it. Though he didn't understand by what magic it happened, as the wolf whined and waved, Gerrod saw an image of how the wolf fell into the pit. He slipped on the icy edge, and landed with an audible crunch on his broken leg. He felt the pain, and it coursed up his left arm in a single wave. Gerrod wanted to yell, but he didn't want to scare the wolf.

Gerrod looked down at him. Instead of acting mean or vicious, as injured animals are prone to do, the wolf just looked back up at him patiently. He whined a helpless plea and cocked his head. While Gerrod had many powers over animals, this peaceful nature was none of his convincing. It was as if he knew he was there to help him, and that he understood him.

He had a beautiful thick coat of winter white and gray. A masking of dark fur, centered on his left eye, could be seen in the shape of a star. He had lean, strong lines, and was in good health, except for the obviously broken leg. He hadn't been in the pit very long. Judging by the trampled snow on the floor of the pit, Gerrod guessed it had been just that morning.

Gerrod looked around for a way to help free his new friend. In the past, he had lowered one end of a fallen log into pits to help animals out who could simply climb the log to freedom. But with the wet snow and ice covering everything, and the wolf's broken leg, he knew that wouldn't work this time. Without many alternatives, his decision was obvious. He'd have to go in and carry him out.

He secured a sturdy rope to Misty's saddle horn, and threw the loose end into the pit. The wolf just sat there waiting, almost amused by his efforts. He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not, though there was nothing intimidating at all from its posturing. He tried not to think about it too much. He grabbed the line and lowered himself into the pit.

The sides of the pit were of loose soil, turned to wet mud. He knocked piles of dirt out of the wall as he descended. His boots sank easily into the muddy mass. He checked behind him several times as he repelled down the vertical surface, but the only movement the wolf made was to lie down. He could sense from the temperament that the wolf didn't intend to attack. He was simply rested his hurt limb. He seemed almost uninterested as he approached.

Gerrod tried to calm him by talking in soft, soothing tones, though he wasn't sure whether it was helping any or not. He watched the half-elf with curious eyes as he squatted down, a few feet from him. Gerrod hoped this would make him appear less threatening to him, though he didn't appear threatened at all by his being there. "Easy, boy," Gerrod approached him, walking squatted down as much as he could. "Everything will be all right," he assured himself as much as the wolf. "I'm only here to help you."

Holding out your bare hand to an animal that was just as likely to bite it off is never a smart thing to do. But it seemed like the right thing at the moment. Gerrod was hoping the wolf would get his scent, and hopefully, like it enough to trust him. He pulled his hand out of the fur mitten and held it out at arm's length as he closed in the last two feet. The wolf's nose shot up in the air, eager to catch the scent. His sudden movement gave Gerrod a startle. He considered pulling his hand back quickly, but he would not fail this test with cowardice.

"There you go, Star," Gerrod named him. It was as if the strange wolf told him his name. "See? I'm all right. You can trust me."

Suddenly, the hair on the back of the wolf's neck stood straight up and he began with a low growl. He leapt to his feet from his lying position, and bolted right through Gerrod before he could react. Gerrod pulled his unprotected hand away, but he was already thrown to the ground, toppled by the weight of the animal.

"Mya help me!" he cried, as he prepared himself for the tearing bite of the wolf. But, to his surprise, it never came. Star passed right over his trampled body, and darted toward the side of the pit. Gerrod said a quick prayer of thanks to Mya, and scrambled to his feet.

Even with an injured leg, Star moved at lightning speed. He threw himself at the wall of the pit, full force, only succeeding in knocking more dirt down on top of him.

"Star! Down boy," he called out, as if expecting him to respond to his command. "I'll help you out, boy. Just settle down."

"Gerrod, get out of there! This wolf's crazed!" he heard a voice yell from above. Next, he saw Ace's face peering down over the ledge of the pit. "Spade was too smart. She wouldn't come anywhere near that wolf. Smart pony, there. You could learn a lesson from her!"

"It's okay, Ace. Star doesn't seem to mind me, but it's you he wants. Maybe you should go back to Corinna. He doesn't seem to care much for dwarves, yet," he warned.

"And leave you down in that pit alone with that beast? Nothing doing."

"Honest, Ace," Gerrod said with a chuckle. "We'll be all right. I just don't think he'll calm down any until you leave."

Star was still clawing at the mud wall with his one good front paw, and jumping up and down. He never stopped his savage snarling and growling. He was determined to reach Ace, and probably for no good end. All of this action had torn his bad leg up even worse, and Gerrod could see splatters of fresh blood falling on the snow below him. Star never paid the pain in his leg any attention, though Gerrod could feel how badly it hurt him. "Please, Ace. He's hurting himself worse."

"Well, it's your hide, ranger. You're the expert on these animal matters," Ace grumbled. He turned around, and walked away. He mumbled loudly enough for his friend to hear him over Star's continued snarls. "After all, I'm just an ancient dwarf. Haven't seen enough people ravaged by crazed wolves yet, I guess."

"He's gone now, boy. Come on, Star, settle down now," Gerrod urged. "You're okay."

As soon as he knew that Ace had left, Star stopped his terrible growling and returned to Gerrod. He calmly limped over and sat down in front of him and raised his injured leg the best he could, as if nothing had ever happened. It amazed Gerrod, who had trained animals of all types. He considered that maybe this wolf was someone's pet. He seemed to have an unusual amount of trust in him, as if he had known him well, but Gerrod was sure he had never seen him before.

"We've got to get you out of here before I can do much about that. You're a pretty big pup," Gerrod sized him up at almost a hundred pounds, as he looked at the steep dirt wall. "Looks like I'll have to carry you," a prospect he still was not looking forward to, even more so when he saw what he had done to that wall.

Gerrod reached out and patted his head. He seemed to take this affection quite well. He pressed his soft fur head into the palm of his hand, and tried to lick it. He stroked his soft cheeks, and then hoisted him on his shoulders, across his back. "I'm afraid this might hurt a bit," he warned, "but I promise to make this as gentle as possible." Star stood perfectly still, more than willing to be handled this way. Gerrod carried him over to the rope that hung down the wall and tied it around his waist.

"Misty, heave-ho!" he cried out. Obediently, Misty walked forward, dragging the rope and them with her. The rope cut into the soft dirt, lifting Star and Gerrod. By the time they reached the top, the rope wedged itself into a large, muddy rift.

Once they were safely out of the pit, he set Star down by Misty. He searched his saddlebags and produced some strips of fine cloth bandages. He looked around, kicking at the new snow, until he uncovered two long, sturdy sticks.

When he returned to Star, he didn't look as though he was doing very well. He lay still on his side. He barely acknowledged the ranger's return. As the wolf faded in and out of sleep, Gerrod was able to reset the broken bone and place the splint on either side of the leg. This done, he lifted his now limp body and placed him across the front of his saddle, laying him across the horse.

Gerrod heard Ace return, but paid him no attention. Star was in no shape to put up a fuss about him anymore. "I'm sorry you had to kill him, Gerrod," he consoled, "but he was clearly mad."

"He's not dead, Ace; at least not yet. He's sleeping now," Gerrod explained. "He's lost a lot of blood, and he's going to be a while recovering before he's in any kind of shape to return to the wild."

"You mean to tell me you're going to carry him around like that until he's better? Better enough to attack you \-- or us?" Ace protested.

"I don't think you have to worry about Star attacking anyone or anything for quite some time. The break is bad, and it's going to be a slow recovery. By then, he'll get to know us better. He seems to take a liking to people pretty quickly. I was wondering if he might be some one's pet."

"Well of course he'd take to you. Animals always take to you. You just have that way with animals. I, on the other hand, tend to become chew-toy material," Ace said, seriously concerned. "Besides, we'll be to Oswegonia soon. Are you just going to haul a wolf around the city with you?"

"Well, if Star gets to be a problem, either in behavior or in convenience, then I'll have to release him to a druid. Until that time, I intend to take care of him the best I can. With a bad leg, he wouldn't do well on his own. Besides, there's something really different about him. It's almost as if he talks to me."

Gerrod climbed on the saddle himself, and rode with Ace out to Corinna and the road once more. Ace didn't say another word on the matter. He knew that there would be no changing the ranger's mind. Corinna had her doubts as well, but trusted Gerrod knew what he was doing.

That night, as they bedded down, Gerrod whispered a prayer of healing for Star to Mya. The wolf hadn't awakened from his deep sleep all day, and he feared he may not survive the night. He prayed that Mya might watch for him during the night, and to touch upon him with healing hands.

Gerrod laid him down beside him. He could hear the gentle thump of a heartbeat, and the low, soft rhythm of his breathing. His fur was so soft, and his body warm, a comfort against the snow and ice of winter. Even though Gerrod knew the wolf was seriously injured, it made him feel good to have his new friend next to him. Star needed someone to look after him, and Gerrod was there when he needed him.

Gerrod awakened the next morning, hearing loud, fitful screams. He rolled over in the direction they were coming from, and his eyes focused on Ace. He was screaming nonsense in a hysteria that woke everyone up, immediately alert. Gerrod drew his sword and was ready to come to his friend's rescue. His eyes grew wide and his jaws dropped. Star stood over the dwarf, licking his face.

In his blind hysteria, Ace thought Star was attacking him. "Help! Get this animal off me! It's trying to chew my face off! Help!" came his screams with much flailing.

Gerrod began to laugh as he realized what was happening. Star discovered scraps of food that stuck in Ace's full but unkempt beard. Ace was not the cleanest eater in those days, and much of his food commonly ended up lodged in his beard. Star, having awakened from his sleep, was plucking out this left over food with his large, wet tongue.

"Come here, Star," Gerrod called to him. "I don't think Ace appreciates your bathing him." Star immediately came over to him, and accepted his petting affections. Gerrod was shocked to not only see him awake, but apparently completely healed. After examining the leg that was broken just the night before, he thanked Mya for answering his prayer. Though his faith in his goddess was strong before, through the miracle of her healing, this faith multiplied. Though he might have been a little hungry, Star seemed no worse for the experience. Gerrod wished he could say the same for Ace, who, not even bothering to notice that Star had left him, was still flailing wildly on the ground.

As he was examining Star, a very bemused Corinna went to console their friend. "Easy, Ace. You're fine. Nothing like a good, wet kiss to wake you up in the morning, huh?"

Finally coming out of his convulsions long enough to notice Star wasn't anywhere near him, Ace excitedly tried to explain. "Why, that blasted animal was trying to kill me again! I'm glad you were able to drag him off me before he had a chance to tear me apart. That crazed dog wanted my blood, I tell ya'."

"More like your morn-meal," Gerrod corrected jokingly. "He's hungry, and so am I."

"Well, I guess I'm all right," Ace responded, sarcastically ignoring their explanation, "Thanks for asking. Death's door I was at, don't you know? Inches away from losing my life to the jaws of that hound. Wrapped about my throat like that. . ."

"Morn-meal sounds good to me, Gerrod," Corinna answered, ignoring Ace's mumbled complaints. "I'm sure if you could find us some food for morn-meal, Ace will be more than willing to forgive Star. I'll get a fire started, Ace, if you want to check on the horses. We'll have the meal ready by the time you get back."

They quickly picked up their blankets and furs, and set about on their assignments. The clear sky above promised a beautiful day. Star accompanied Gerrod, as they searched the brush that grew heavy along the road. As if knowing what he was searching for, Star sniffed the air for game.

Many birds used the protective cover of the thick brush to hide their nests, and game bird eggs made for a good morn-meal. Star darted about, ahead and around Gerrod, sticking his nose into the brush and sniffing. Finding nothing, he would move to another spot in the hedgerow.

They traveled down the road a short way, until Star reached a spot and began prancing around. He got down on his fore quarters, and intently peered into the brush, tongue wagging about. It was about all the wolf could do to contain its eager yelping, but he restrained himself so as not to scare the game. Star was an excellent hunter.

"What is it, boy? Did you find something?" Gerrod asked, playfully.

Suddenly, Gerrod was struck by another vision. He realized, as he saw the vague outline of a pheasant that he was seeing through Star's eyes as he peered through the bushes. There, hidden under the thorns and branches, was a small game bird, seated on its nest. The bird was sitting very still, like a statue, but he could detect its outline despite its cover. Gerrod's stomach rumbled at the prospect of eggs. Star waited in silence. His eyes locked onto the target. Gerrod made his way, only half seeing through his own eyes, to stand next to him. Gerrod could almost feel the bird quivering, too scared to move, and waiting for a good opportunity to escape.

On the signal of a mere thought, Star dove into the thick brush. His keen eyes never left the bird. With a flurry of speed, Star bit down and snapped the bird's outstretched neck. He pulled the bird out, all before its flapping wings could lift it off its nest. The game bird lain limply in Star's mouth, nary a feather on its neck ruffled. He set the bird down at Gerrod's feet, looking every bit like a hunting dog, licking his chops. He would have liked to have devoured the bird right there and then, and being his prize, he would have had full right to it. But somehow, he knew he would get more than his fair share of the meal.

Gerrod gathered the eggs and bird, carefully put them into a sack. Their task proudly completed, they headed back to camp. Star would prove to be a valuable and most dear companion, he knew.

When they returned, Corinna had a warm fire going, and Ace was just coming back from caring for the horses. "Well, I'm back. Did you manage to find anything to eat as you promised, or did that wolf scare everything off?"

"We not only got some fresh pheasant eggs," Gerrod boasted, "but Star here felt like the whole bird this morning!" He displayed the bird proudly. Corinna applauded as if Gerrod had pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Star waved a paw in the air in appreciation. Even Ace managed to work up a small cheer for the bonus.

After a filling meal of pheasant and eggs, it was time for them to get back on the road. Star cleaned up what leftovers there were, and then he sat down in front of Gerrod as he said his good-byes. Star seemed to adopt a sad face, which matched Gerrod's serious tone as he spoke with him. It was almost as if he knew what he was thinking. "Well, it looks like your leg is as good as new. Praises to Mya." Gerrod noted as he examined it one last time. "And it's time for us to be heading back onto the road. I'd like to thank you again for the pheasant. I think you'll agree, it was very good." Star licked his chops, still tasting the treat. "So I guess this is good-bye." Gerrod choked back tears that welled in his eyes. He had never experienced an animal the likes of Star, and he reckoned he never would again.

Gerrod tried to take his paw and shake it, but Star refused to let him. Taking the insult as perhaps being his way of parting, perhaps showing how sad he was even though Gerrod could feel it, he turned and mounted Misty. "Now go on, Star. You belong in the wild, so get going," he commanded.

Star simply stood there, looking back up at him. His head seemed to hang.

"What are you waiting for? Get going," Gerrod prompted again.

Still, he stood there.

"Are you coming, lad?" came Ace's gruff voice.

"I'll be there in a minute," he called back to him. "Okay, stay here if you'd like, Star. Maybe I'll see you again someday. Bye, Star."

He pulled on the reins and nudged Misty toward Corinna and Ace who were waiting patiently by the road. Though tempted many times, he refused to look back. When he reached his friends, Corinna pointed behind him with a whimsical look. Gerrod turned to see what she found so amusing about his heartfelt parting with Star, only to find that the white wolf had followed him.

"I told you to get!" Gerrod yelled at him, but as he reached his friends, Star only sat and waited.

"Looks to my as if he's taken a shyning to you," Ace observed. "I've heard tell of it happening before, to men of the woods. For little or no reason at all, some beast will latch on and follow the guy around for the rest of his days. They call it the shyning." Ace was amused endlessly, and quite convinced this was what happened.

"Maybe he's just looking for more scraps in your beard," Gerrod rebutted, which shut Ace up in a hurry. He quietly ran his fingers through his thick beard to groom it. Once and a while he'd find something lodged in there, and flicked it out, devoid of any social graces.

Gerrod too had heard of the shyning. While it was a great honor among rangers to have a woodland friend adopt them, he wasn't sure he was up to the responsibilities associated with taking on a companion. It was more than just having this animal follow you around for the rest of your life. A ranger's companion became a part of the ranger. It was this spiritual bond between the two that made communications such as the animal's sights and other senses available to the ranger. It was through such a bond that he had been able to feel Star's pain and see the pheasant.

Companions of the shyning were considered to be gifts from the gods, and Mya had shown her approval by her healing of Star. It also seemed that Star was leaving him with little choice. Star had a stubborn, determined look in his eyes. He had chosen to be his companion, and he wouldn't take "no" for an answer. It seemed that Gerrod had a new friend for life.

After this, they all began the long road of friendship with Star; even Ace. They eventually not only trusted him, but also came to count on him as a dear friend. Gerrod did notice, however, that Ace began taking greater care in grooming the food out of his thick, black beard. This was something they all appreciated.

Corinna and Ace enjoyed the tale, and they joked for quite a while afterwards. It lifted their spirits and took their minds off the weather. In fact, they even noticed the snow started to ease.

Later that afternoon, the wind stopped as did the snow. The clouds parted, clearing the sky as swiftly as they had come. The sun shone down suddenly blazing warm. As freezing cold as it had been, it quickly grew just as agonizingly hot. The weather sure was acting strangely. This was obvious, even to Gerrod's non-ranger friends, but they didn't make an issue of discussing it.

As the temperature climbed sharply, so did the road. While Gerrod had only traveled this length of the King's Highway a couple dozen times or so, this was one stretch of the usually endless, mindless roadway he always remembered. The roadway took a sudden, vertical turn, and climbed the steep mountain face. While normally a torturous climb for the horses, the heat of the afternoon swelter made it unbearable this day. Many times they needed to dismount and help pull the horses up the steep incline. The neatly paved roadway turned more into a rough, rutted trail.

They made several stops to rest the horses at the fresh springs, which poured out of the bare rock faces and gathered between boulders to form crystal clear pools.

The scenery of the road behind them was the saving grace that got them through that difficult day. All the hills and valleys of the lands behind them fell away as they continued to climb. First they could see above the trees, and then over the hills. The world lay out behind them, displaying all its great splendor.

Gerrod took in deep breaths of the warm, but clear air. For that minute, they seemed to be on top of the world. It would be the last time they felt like that in a long time.

# 

# Chapter 11

# Highpoint

That evening found the members of Wefpub halfway up the ridge that circled around Crystal Lake, and pulling into the small village of Highpoint. Well before they could make out the details of the city, the wall of mountain that formed the backdrop for this rustic city overshadowed them. Ace squinted his tired eyes against the dimming of the setting sun. "What's wrong with the trees on that there mountain?" he asked in his gruff voice.

"Have you forgotten the blue spruces of Highpoint, Ace?" Gerrod asked.

He nodded in sudden recollection.

One of the more unusual scenic highlights of the King's Highway was this blanket of brilliant blue spruce trees that draped a curtain behind the tall walls of Highpoint. Normally an evergreen, the blue spruce trees of this mountainside turned an unusual, vibrant blue color in the fall, as all the other trees turned their familiar golds and reds. The setting sun caught the outermost tips of the branches, illuminating the needles. They exploded into a marvelous display of bright blue. This awesome sight inspired Gerrod into a prayer to Mya, thanking her for the amazing beauty of nature and the world around him. While it had been quite some time for either Ace or him to make it this far north, it was a sight Gerrod remembered well, and had always looked forward to.

Those tall walls kept the city of Highpoint from tumbling over the edge of the mountain as much as the creatures of the wild out. Behind those walls, they met their first bit of civilization since leaving Oswegonia, over a week before. Highpoint was best known for its iron smelting facility, which dominated the entire eastern half of the large village. In a single, mammoth building, longer than a dozen giants lying head to toe, tons of iron ore were transformed into ingots of strong metal. This steel was crafted into tools and wares of all sorts. Traders from Oswegonia hauled the ore in on huge wagons. These same traders to cities all over Carrona, then shipped the new ingots of very pure, high-quality steel.

Besides this excellent steel, Highpoint was also well renowned for its fine inns and other hospitalities. It took the humans who worked the smelters a week to completely process the large shipments of the rich ore. During that time, the wealthy merchants were invited to spend their great profits on entertainment and high living. Much to Ace's pleasure, Highpoint was a gambling town.

Gerrod informed Star that they would be staying in the city. They would probably be leaving by the northern gate; it was the only other gate in the massive city walls. The army would have to continue on the King's Highway in that direction. He always hated to leave his friend alone, but knew that Star would be much more comfortable out roaming the woods than on the city streets. Actually, if it wasn't to guard Corinna better, Gerrod would have stayed out with Star under the friendly clear sky and twinkling stars.

While the ranger hated the city too, he had to keep an eye on his friends. Ace wouldn't be much help guarding anyone, especially after he reached the gaming tables. So with a warm, heartfelt hug and a scratch behind the ear, Gerrod bid farewell to Star outside the gates. He watched longingly as the wolf bounded off into the woods, to spend the night chasing rabbits and dreaming of warm summer days. After a few moments of staring into the new-fallen darkness, Gerrod joined his friends. They walked through the tall stockade fence walls, and into the village of Highpoint.

Despite the large number of King's Guard, whose bright gold and red crescent helmets could be seen everywhere, they managed to find two rooms in a cozy but huge inn. As typical, Ace studied the establishment. He not only got a bearing on the layout and defensibility of the place, but also judged the way the business was run. He was always on the look out for new ideas for Wefpub. However, they no sooner got checked into their rooms, than Ace dropped everything and headed for the gambling tables.

"Aren't you going to clean up or at least eat first?" Gerrod asked the anxious old dwarf. Ace was more excited than Gerrod had seen him in a long time.

"Wish I could," he said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, "but there's tables waitin' for me. Cards to be dealt, chips to be laid, and hands to be played. I'm afraid I'll be up half the night."

"Don't forget to get your rest. I doubt if the Guard is going to sit in this town for too long."

"Don't you be worrying 'bout me. I've been in need of a vacation, and this is as good of one I can think of. I'll be cleaning up the tables, taking this place for more than one free meal, and be fully rested in the morning before you get out of bed."

"Well have fun, Ace. I'll be seeing you in the morn. Good luck!"

By the time he wished him good luck, Ace was out the door and half way to the closest casino.

Gerrod knew there would be no stopping him, and he was right -- he did deserve a good vacation. Ace would certainly be living up to his name that night.

Ace and Gerrod checked into one room, while Corinna was alone in the room next to them. Though there was little need to worry, they made sure there was an adjoining door, just in case.

Their room was comfortable. It was modestly furnished with two soft beds dressed in fine linen sheets, a washstand with a marble basin built in, and a pump for fresh indoor water. There was even a separate room with a toilet basin. There was a small fireplace built into the wall, and the curtains on the windows matched the fine bed covers. Under the bed covers were thick downy pillows and warm quilts and blankets, ready to accept Gerrod's road-weary body.

The wafting of sweet aromas reminded Gerrod of the pangs in his empty stomach. Gerrod envisioned before him a feast fit for a king. There was only so much of the dried and salt-cured meats, hard cheeses, and stale, unleavened biscuits that had served as their road rations these past many days, that a man could take. He pictured thick, juicy venison steaks and potatoes, fresh vegetables, soft, butter-swamped bread, and flagons of good ale. To top it all off, he would have hot apple pudding cake, served with a rich and creamy honey-based sauce. His mouth watered in anticipation. His stomach gurgled in agreement.

Gerrod knocked at the door between the two rooms. After a bit, Corinna opened it, but only wide enough to stick her head through.

"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for the evening meal. My stomach is about to leave me if it doesn't get a venison steak right now."

Corinna seemed a bit pre-occupied. She kept looking back into her room, and trying to close the door behind her as if she was hiding something there she didn't want him to see. "Uh," she stammered. Corinna, her life so dedicated to the casting of spells, rarely stammered her words. "I'll have to join you in a while. I was planning on taking a bath first," she explained.

Casually, Gerrod drew in a deep breath through his nose, and the familiar scent of her bath oils confirmed her story. "Oh. Okay, then," he answered, deliberately sounding as disappointed as he was.

"Well," she gave in to his pitiful display, "you go ahead, though," she quickly urged so as not to hurt his feelings. "I'll meet you in the dining room. I know the way you eat, Gerrod. You'll be on your fourth steak by the time I get there."

"I'll save you a piece, then," he smiled.

She returned with a nervous smile of her own and nothing more. She slipped into her room, again being careful not to open the door too wide. She shut the door firmly behind her. He heard the sliding of the dead bolt sealing it tight.

Gerrod pondered this unusual secretiveness for about as long as it took him to reach the large common room of the inn, just off the front lobby. Corinna, in the mystery of her arts, was always doing weird things. After a while he'd just gotten used to it, he remembered. It had been a long time since he had traveled with her. Either he'd chosen to forget some of her unusual quirks, he decided, or else he'd been so engrossed in his love that he'd never noticed them before. Either way, there was a waitress leading him to a table, and venison steaks to be eaten. Corinna's business was not his concern any more, he reminded himself sadly.

Gerrod slowed down between his third and fourth steaks, but Corinna never showed up. After his fifth and last serving, he was concerned. Despite his arguing stomach, he forewent dessert, and returned to her room.

He knocked on her locked door several times longer than he should have, and probably harder too, but there was no answer. With intentions of trying the adjoining room door, Gerrod returned to his own room. There was a note pinned on the door: "Sorry I couldn't join you at dinner. See you in the morning, Corinna."

The night still young, and the room empty, Gerrod set out to find Ace. Even though he hadn't seen him in several hours, he had a very good idea where his friend was. After checking out only a couple of different casinos, he found him at the gaming tables. A large crowd gathered around him, and he knew Ace was winning.

"Gerrod, my boy!" Ace greeted him loudly. Besides winning too much, he had been drinking too much. Ace was only that friendly when he was drunk. Piled in front of him was a heap of coins, mostly gold and platinum, and emptied steins, which he refused to have cleared from the cluttered table. "They bring me luck," he explained in a wavering voice.

Ace always had a knack for poker. He guessed the cards in the deck as well as the hand of the dealer by the look on his face. If the dealer had two pair, Ace would find a three-of-a-kind. If the dealer had a straight, Ace would deal into a full house. If the dealer ever tried to bluff, Ace would call him on it every time, adding to the pot until he forced the dealer to fold.

Everyone needs to find a niche in life. And in poker, Ace had found his. It was this talent, among others, that helped this street orphan out of the slums and into respected company. Ace never knew who his parents were, and though Gerrod knew it bothered him to no end, he held a good face about it.

It was customary, when two dwarves meet, to ask, "Be ye stone or be ye metal?" for there was an endless feud between these two divisions. The wrong answer could start a battle to the death. Not knowing for sure, though he often shared a hope for the more traditional stone clans, Ace developed the diplomatic answer of, "I be a friend to you, that's for sure!" This simple response protected the honor of the one asking, and hadn't ever gotten Ace into trouble in the two hundred some odd years he had used it. When hard pressed, Ace would look into their eye and somehow pull out the right answer. It was just like knowing when the dealer was bluffing.

Through his years, Ace had found the desire to work the stone, and he developed into a natural stone carver. He started his craft when he was but a young lad, orphaned and alone on the streets of Oswegonia's slums, where he was forced to steal what he needed.

One day, he managed to come across one of the intricate carvings of the stone dwarves. Right then and there he felt the passion. Without any money, he stole a set of the fine, sharp tools used for the delicate work. He was chased around the entire Market Square. He eventually ducked into hiding, until the guards gave up their search.

He picked up a stone from the streets, and began to carve. While his first pieces didn't particularly look like much, he practiced and practiced. By teaching himself and not learning by way of any of the traditional, established stone dwarven schools, Ace's style was as unique as he was. His materials, once he had the tools, were free, and he had more than enough time on his hands. His hours and days of carving, nestled safely in a corner to himself, kept him out of trouble and the hands of the guard.

Eventually, Ace developed quite a large collection of remarkable pieces. He put an eye towards selling his new wares. However, selling anything in the Market Square, as with anything else in Oswegonia, required official papers. Children of the slums were not allowed papers of any kind. That was when Ace met a friend who knew of secret passages in and out of the city walls. This access let Ace travel outside the city whenever he wanted.

Ace started to take his stone carvings outside the city, and sold them to the merchants as they neared the city gates. Since the Guard didn't allow selling outside the city like that either, he had to be careful. He even ran from the Guard several times.

Eventually, Ace saved enough money to buy himself some papers. In Oswegonia, you needed papers for everything, and this tended to create a large underground market for official documents. In fact, if the Guard caught a person without the proper papers to identify themselves, they threw them into either the slums or the king's dungeon. If they ever wanted to get out of the slums, people had to buy their papers. These papers, especially on the black market, cost so much that few people in the slums would ever be able to afford them.

Papers allowed people to leave the slums and enter the Market Square and the lower middle-income class section of Essex. This place was much nicer than the slums, and a lot safer too. The King's Guard patrolled the walls around the area, and through the streets. These guards weren't very effective, as they tried not to do anything more than they had to. Still, they enjoyed saving people under attack in the streets, if they could kill whomever it is attacking them. They did this more for fun and sport than for any sense of justice.

Here, Ace started saving money all over again. Ace had seen the rich merchants with their fine clothes and eating their sumptuous meals. He had an eye toward living that rich life. He continued to carve and sell, until he could move up even another notch in the Oswegonian society, and into Tren.

Ace had seen a lot over his many years, but once he reached the top, he never forgot where he came from. He made annual donations to help feed the poor in the slums. Since he never knew whether he was "of stone or metal," he thanked Moradin, god of all dwarves, for his talents that had gotten him out of the slums. Moradin smiled on him in return.

So there was Ace, elbows deep in gold coins, and up to his eyeballs in empty steins. Gerrod stayed with him a while. Even though his card playing didn't falter, Ace became so drunk he barely knew Gerrod was there. They eventually closed down the table, under the direction of the casino bosses, and stumbled back to their room.

Ace managed to last halfway up the stairs before passing out. Gerrod picked the thick dwarf up and carried him the rest of the way, plopping his wide body down on his bed. As Gerrod lay there in his own bed, listening to Ace's intoxicated snoring, he wondered about Star and how he was fairing this night. Knowing somehow that he was thinking of him, or maybe just by coincidence, he heard the faint but familiar howl of the wolf. Star was doing just fine. Gerrod fell asleep with a smile on his face.

In the morning, a disturbance in the street awakened Gerrod. Above Ace's incessant snoring, he heard voices shouting below. He went to the window to see what was going on. Two familiar faces were in trouble on the street below. Five of the King's Guard surrounded his friends, and were giving them a hard time. Even though it had been a while, there was no mistaking Amanda and her bright blue robes, her holy vestments. A tall, female fighter accompanied her, whom he could only guess to be Allison. The guards encircled the pair, and it looked like there was going to be trouble. His immediate reaction of surprise and gladness to see the pair was quickly replaced by the urgency of the situation.

Gerrod gave a yell and a shake to Ace. He was up on his feet and checking his gear with a start. He heard the commotion, and without asking questions, knew that his friends needed him. Gerrod pounded on the door to the adjoining room. After a pause, and not hearing anything from the other side, he pounded again, harder this time. Still no response from Corinna.

"Leave it, boy!" Ace called out. "That's the girls down there. I'd recognize those hollers anywhere. Allison's 'bout ready to start a fight, and they'll be needing us."

Gerrod tried the door one last time, but Corinna locked it on the other side. He grabbed Flicker from the bedpost, and strapped the weapon on as he went out of the room. Ace was all ready and holding the door. He had that alert, battle lust in his eyes, completely unaffected by his wild night on the town.

When they hit the cobblestones, they could hear Allison and Amanda's prayers to Corellon Larethian being yelled out, despite the many jeers and jabs from the Guard. The five guards' bronze helms and red crescents shone brightly in the early morning mist. They slowly began to spin their circle, a common, teasing maneuver they used when they clearly had the advantage in a fight. They used this spinning circle to confuse less experienced fighters, but Allison and Amanda were no novices.

Their faith in their god so complete, neither Allison nor Amanda had drawn a weapon. Instead, they clutched their holy symbols in their hands. With eyes closed, their faces turned toward the sky. They stood back to back, as their only defensive maneuver. Their voices rang out loud and clear, rising above the mocking jeers, shattering the silence that was the early morning. Their prayers complete, Amanda opened her eyes to see Ace and Gerrod charging in. "Sister! Our prayers have been answered!" she cried, pulling out her mighty mace. In a blinding flash of movement, Allison drew out not one, but two long swords, and they were ready for battle.

Caught unaware by the attack from outside their protective circle, one guard barely noticed the short Ace out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly found Ace's axe buried deep behind his right knee. He tried desperately to spin around, but without a knee to support him, he spun himself to the ground. The momentum of the great blade didn't slow. Ace brought it around quickly for the killing blow between the bright helmet and the shoulder. The force of the blow lopped his nearly decapitated head off to the side.

Gerrod took on the guard next to Ace's. The guard had noticed the sudden fate of the man on his left. He swung around and was ready for Gerrod by the time he reached him. With the skilled training of the Guard, this man fought better than the unorganized orcs who had no understanding of tact in combat. His blade was up and ready to block the initial, anticipated attack. After a couple of other successful parries, he came back with a powerful swing. Even though Gerrod easily matched it with Flicker, the blow was so great that it forced Gerrod to catch himself, throwing his balance off.

Gerrod moved away from the others, pulling his target off to the side when he came after him. He came in with another great swipe, and Gerrod blocked it again, leaning into the blow to stand against its strength. Flicker quivered in his tight grip.

The forceful strike had kept the guard's advancing defenses open. Normally, his strong blow would have kept anyone from being able to strike before he could regain himself, but Gerrod had managed to withstand the blow better than most.

"Sh-zot!" Gerrod called upon the command word. Not suspecting a magical sword, the guard's eyes grew wide at the glowing of the blade. His eyes stayed that way when, stunned, Flicker slipped through under his chest plate, and lit up his innards. With the horrified look frozen on his face, the guard dropped to the ground. Gerrod spoke the command word again, and the blade dimmed as he withdrew it from the body.

Meanwhile, mace met steel as Amanda bellowed a cry to her god. It was an enormous voice coming from such a small body. The mace swung around from its parry, and smashed squarely into the side of the guard's head. There was a sickening thud as it smashed in, sloshing the guard's brain around the inside of his skull. If it wasn't for the quality of the red-crescent helm, his skull would have crushed right in.

Surprisingly, more out of instinct than will, the guard still stood. He made a weak stab at Amanda, and even recovered enough to block another swing from the mace. Amanda feigned a strike high, drawing the guard's defenses up. With a strong-armed maneuver, she stopped the momentum of the heavy weapon, and reversed the direction of her swing, bringing it up low. Caught unaware, the man couldn't deflect the mace in time, and it pounded soundly into his groin. Doubled over in pain, the man bent down just in time to catch a second upward swing of the mace, full in the face. The studs on the heavy weapon left deep depressions molded into the human's face, an unrecognizable, bloody mass -- all bony structure shattered. With the force of the first blow knocking his brain in one direction, the jolting of this second shot was more than it could absorb, and he rolled over, dead.

Perhaps the biggest surprise of this encounter was Allison. Since they had last seen her, she had obviously matured; not only in body, but also as a fighter. With two guards left, they both charged the dual-weaponed fighter. She wove the large, normally awkward blades in a lively pattern that left the two guards stumped. She easily blasted off their strikes, her defenses perfect. She had such rhythm and slick styling with the two blades, that it resembled a carefully choreographed dance. It was clear, just by watching her, that she had well mastered the art of fighting.

She circled around her two opponents, keeping them from flanking her, all the while keeping them on the defensive. While her jabs and attacks were deadly, the guards easily deflected them. She clearly showed her control over her opponents by playing with them as they had proposed doing with her and her sister. While the pair of women certainly would not have faired well against five guards, Allison proved that it would take more than two of them to defeat her.

Allison had a nasty grin on her face; she was enjoying this. She easily directed the two guards' every move. Every shift of their weight was a result of a purposeful move by her. They had no choice but to be her puppets, her twin blades being the strings that tugged them to her every whim.

She alternated striking high and then low, first with the left and then the right one. Predictably, they bowed and straightened to match her every move, acting out a silly dance, keeping careful time with her swords.

Finally, she moved the blades up and out in a crossed pattern, forcing her opponents' blades both high and to the outside. In a daring maneuver, she took advantage of their inability to regain control, and stepped between them. When she cleared to the other side of the men, she spun around and tapped them on the shoulder. Her grin widened as they turned to meet her, her blades being the quicker. With a flash in the early morning sun, her blades struck out, catching the startled men under their shining chest plates. The long straight blades pushed out the center of their backs. She withdrew the thin blades back out the way they came before the men hit the ground, dead.

With the clamor of the fight attracting attention in front of the busy inn, it didn't leave much time to cite admiration. "I hope everyone has everything they want," Ace said. "I suggest we make our leave of this town, before their friends catch word of this."

"What about Corinna?" Gerrod protested.

"No time, boy," came Ace's reply, a bit harsher than usual. There was a marked irritation in his voice. It softened slightly, as if he reconsidered his abruptness. "She'll catch up to us. We'll just wait for these tin-heads outside the northern gate. I'm sure she'll meet up with us there."

"Agreed. Let's get out of here," Allison and Amanda voted, looking about nervously.

They made sure they got what they needed, and tried to walk away as quietly and innocently as possible. They left the carnage that was their short battle lying in the middle of the street. There was no sign of anyone else coming out the doors or on the streets. They hoped there would be no witnesses to identify them to the rest of the troops. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the King's Guard would find their dead comrades.

# 

#  Chapter 12

# Together Again

Outside the northern gates of the high-walled city of Highpoint, the adventurers found a small glen of trees on the eastern side of the King's Highway where they hid. They had gathered their horses from the inn's stables, and luckily Allison and Amanda's weren't far away either. They made the north gate and passed through without notice from the sleepy guards that barely tended to their early morning post. They were fugitives from the justice of Highpoint, and the King's Guard. It was nothing new for the members of Wefpub.

Hidden safely in the woods, Gerrod felt much better. He never did care for cities much, and now that he was back out under the trees, he could relax. Gerrod was at home once more. Led by Ace, he followed everyone else through the low brush that skirted the edge of trees. He used the branches to cover their passing, so no one who might be following them out of the city would even know where to look.

"So where in the four lands have you girls been?" Ace was asking when Gerrod joined the rest who had sat down under the shade of the trees. "I began to worry when you missed Reunion."

"Well," Amanda volunteered, "we had to attend to some church business. Besides," she glared at Gerrod, "we didn't think it would hurt to miss one year. It's not like no one has ever missed a Reunion before."

"Well deserved," Gerrod admitted. "It's been far too long. And, if I had known what I was missing out on, I would have certainly been back sooner." He gave a sly smile to Allison, so there would be no mistaking his compliment. "My apologies. I've had business of my own that needed attending to." It was a lie, he realized, but he couldn't get into any explanations -- not now. They were his friends, the only true friends he had ever known, but they wouldn't understand.

"Apology accepted," Allison quickly replied, returning his appreciative smile. She certainly had matured. "At least we're all together now." She stopped short when she suddenly remembered that Corinna was still missing. "I mean, at least we will be."

For the first time since Ace and Gerrod had met them on the street, Gerrod had a chance to really look at Amanda and Allison. Even though he had spent several years with them, adventuring to all corners of the lands, that was a lifetime ago now. Just young adults last he saw them, they had changed so much that he hardly recognized them.

The older of the two was Amanda. She wore the bright blue vestments of her station in the church of Corellon Larethian, though it was not until later that he would learn just how high that station had become. She had quickly gained the favor of the High Cleric of the Church, as well as their god, and her clerical powers grew steadily with her enormous faith.

Amanda wore long blonde hair down to her shoulders, giving her a softer appearance. With her tender, brown eyes, it was hard to believe this was the same, strong woman who swung that mighty weapon and had crushed that guard's skull. Under a light cape, used more for rain than for warmth, she wore a fine suit of armor. She boldly bore the symbol of her god on the bulky chest plate. Her holy symbol, a large heart, hung about her thin, delicate neck. She always kept the shiny silver amulet brightly polished.

She wore loose fitting leather britches, and high, rugged boots; hardly the fashions of the ladies in the fine courts. But for her work, constantly on the road with missions of evangelism for her Church, these were far more suitable. It just wouldn't seem right to have her bash someone's skull in while she was dressed in a long, formal gown.

Allison, bursting with large muscles and taller than her "big" sister, made a striking figure. Little more than a child when Gerrod had last seen her, she had passed the elven age of innocence, and was now a woman. She had clearly developed in many more ways than just her fighting ability.

Allison wore her long hair, the same honey-blonde color as her sister's, pinned to the top of her head under a fine net. This helped keep her locks out of the way while fighting, and enhanced the illusion of her masculine form. She was stronger than many men Gerrod had fought beside, and was more than capable of taking care of herself in a fight.

Her armor was of polished steel bands. This type gave her excellent protection while allowing her the flexibility she needed to swing the two long swords she kept sheathed on either hip. The hilts of the identical blades boasted the same clerical symbol as Amanda's breastplate. This symbol, Gerrod noticed, was also painted into the leather of Allison's chest protector. Somehow the symbol didn't look the same, bending to the contours around her ample bosoms.

Instead of the bulky leather britches her sister wore, Allison instead chose to have her armor end in a skirt-type flair, just below her hips. She wore tight leggings for warmth. About her muscular, thick thighs, she wore additional plates of armor, strapped on with wide leather bands. Matching steel plates that ran the height of them also protected her high leather boots, which rose to her knees.

Around her bare forearms were bracers. Thick, matching armbands wrapped around her upper arms, but these were more for decoration than for protection. Her arms and legs showed the hard labor that had gone into finely tuning each muscle. These muscles seemed to ripple in smooth harmony as she moved about effortlessly.

Allison smiled at Gerrod with a smile that did not seem as innocent as he had remembered. Allison had matured into a fine looking woman, and the years of experience on the road had given her the inner strength of maturity.

Still, in many ways, she was the same old Allison. She maintained, beneath the tough exterior, to be playful and good-natured; and still, he knew, she was as protective of her sister as she had always been. Even though Amanda had always been more than capable of taking care of herself, Allison had always taken it upon herself to try to protect her sister from whatever they came across. As much as Amanda served their god as a cleric, Allison proudly served Corellon by being the best possible bodyguard she could be for her sister, whom she considered "the Chosen One."

Allison was just as unwavering in her hatred for evil and corruption, the very things the Guard represented as she was protective. Gerrod had no doubt that it was Allison that had gotten them into trouble with the King's Guard that morning. For some reason, it seemed, Amanda would have far fewer things to be protected from, if it wasn't for her sister.

The party reacted at once, by the simultaneous drawing of weapons, as they each became aware of something moving in the branches of the trees above them. They only relaxed after making out the form of a single, spotted owl, making its lazy glide through the trees. It was early morning, and the owl seemed to be returning to the treetops to perch after a long night's hunting. But then, they noticed, the owl seemed to be falling to the ground.

As it fell, with powerful wings guiding its decent, it magically transformed into a more recognizable figure. Its delicate wings redefined into a heavy black robe, fluttering in the breeze. Suddenly, Corinna stood in the center of their party, whose weapons were still drawn and focused on the unexpected invasion.

"I was hoping you might be a bit more pleased than this to see me," Corinna responded to the array of weapons pointed at her.

"Good blazes, girl!" Ace finally sputtered, dumb-founded by her Change Self spell. "I really wish you wouldn't be doing things like that. Me heart's not that good."

"How nice of you to drop in on us," Gerrod returned, sheathing his sword and ignoring Ace's sputtering.

Similarly ignoring Gerrod, Corinna shared heart-felt greetings to Amanda and Allison. "I knew we'd find you somewhere. Can't have an adventure without you two. I heard you got into a bit of a scuffle this morning."

"We was wondering where you might have been this morning," Ace continued, gruffly. He had the rough edge to his voice of a concerned father whose daughter had been out past her curfew.

"I've been doing a bit of snooping on our gold-headed friends," she explained. "It seems the Guard doesn't know any more of where they're going than we do. If LaBairne does know their true destination, he wouldn't reveal it to his next in rank, even in the strictest of confidence."

"So how does he know where to lead the Guard?" Ace asked.

"He carries with him a staff of powerful dweomers. The magic in the staff points the way he is to take. He says the staff was given to him by Rai'dley herself."

"I knew she was involved in this thing somehow," Ace snorted. "I could smell her twisted dealings in this from the get go."

"It still bothers me to no end, not ever hearing of someone with such mastery of the arts as she is reputed to have," Corinna confessed.

"Well, I for one don't trust nothing to do with her. Not too keen on mages at all; nothing against you, though, Corinna, you understand, but especially the likes of her evil ways," Ace spat.

"We'll find out where they're headed soon enough," Corinna continued. "They've given up looking for the ones who slew the guards on the street, and are preparing to press on."

Weapons were drawn again at another sound in the woods. Allison stepped out in front of Amanda at the sight of a lone timber wolf padding its way towards them. She seemed quite surprised to see them sheath their weapons once more in recognition. "Don't tell me this is a friend too."

"The boy calls it that. Nothing but a wild mutt to my likings, though," Ace complained.

Star came right up to Gerrod, casting an arrogant look Ace's way. He refused to acknowledge his comment with anything more. Star greeted his master's hug affectionately. Gerrod could tell he missed him as much as he had missed the wolf.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Allison joined them in standing down her defenses. "This can't still be Star," she said. She approached the beast in order to get reacquainted with him. "It's been so long, but I remember this wolf. Everybody has a dog when they're growing up; Star was mine. I remember running and playing all over Carrona with this puppy." Her eyes filled with wonder and awe of remembering such fond times.

Star could remember them too. He allowed the comrades to scratch his fur and pet him. He simply soaked up the affection and the attention offered him.

They used the rest of the time to fill Amanda and Allison in on all that had happened and what they knew. After little consideration at all, Amanda and Allison heartily agreed to join their quest. Now, the members of Wefpub were united once more.

They stayed hidden in the glen, watching the parade of guards as they filed out of the north gate and passed by. LaBairne was easy to identify by the staff he held. A small flag with the Guard's gold and red colors blew at the top. He held the staff in a flagstand mounted to his saddle. It took keen attention to notice that the flag was not pointing south, in the direction of the wind, but rather against it. Unnaturally pointing north, the flag indicated the long road ahead.

Once the procession passed by, the reunited members of Wefpub took up their familiar place in the rear, tailing the army of guards. Ace and Gerrod rode point, leading their own group, with Corinna and Amanda riding center, and the young warrior, Allison, covering their rear flanks. Star bounded along, checking out the brush on either side of the road again, but never strayed too far out of sight.

After a half day's ride, north along the King's Highway, they got the change of pace they had all waited for. Suddenly, without any signs or indications why, the tracks of the two hundred men they were following veered off through an obviously well trampled hole punched into the side brush.

It once again suddenly felt odd, being out on the road. They knew that the Guard could be in the cover of the woods, watching them, perhaps even waiting for a signal to ambush them. A chill ran down their spines at the prospects, but after a quick reconnaissance by Ace -- with Star bounding along wildly, despite Ace's attempts at stealth -- they were assured the army had indeed moved off into the wilderness. They gladly took the detour, and the change of pace from the constant, mindless drone of the open road.

The forest closed in around them, enveloping them like a pool of water, as they waded into the world of the wilds. Unlike the road, which had become so familiar to them, the woods were not as open, as inviting. The trees, Gerrod's long-time friends, encroached upon an unusually large sense of personal space he had developed. But too, in their proximity, he felt a comfort there, hidden between the constantly passing trunks. It was like snuggling under a nice thick, downy blanket in the coldness of winter. This obscurity, though it hindered their senses so, provided them with the same shelter.

Despite the recent confusions in the weather, it was undeniably late autumn that first day they stepped into the woods. The leaves, having all long since fallen from their hardwood limbs, covered the ground in a thick, ample blanket of patchwork colors, all tamed by the brown of death. That blanket had been ruffled where they followed. The leaves had been kicked up from their quiet rest by the passing of hundreds of booted feet and heavy, hoofed horses. The swish-swish of their own party, horses poking their way through the fallen foliage, made a deafening sound that droned out just about all the other sounds of the forest. The woods had already been unusually silenced by the passing of the army of men before them.

And so they continued their parade, and the swift pace of the march, for a couple more days. The weather seemed, at least at that moment, to have settled on a more seasonable climate. They climbed continually, while traveling along the side of the great peaks that surrounded Crystal Lake. The rugged, treeless crests loomed above and ahead of them always. They weathered a couple of thunderstorms, with the bare limbs above them offering little protection. None-the-less, Star and Gerrod were very pleased to be back among the trees. He could feel the life all around him, and it poured back into places that had gone dark.

It was about this time when Amanda, interested in religious artifacts and anything possibly related to religions of any sorts, asked Corinna how she had come across the jeweled pendant she had shown them. They were all familiar with Corinna's hobby of researching, and discovering long lost magical items, but she had never pursued religious items. Over her many years of adventuring, she had managed to collect a great number of rare and unusual items. All but the most treasured and rare of these, she sold for a healthy profit. Many of the old adventures of Wefpub had been centered on acquiring another odd piece Corinna had read about in some long-forgotten book.

In the serenity that was the forest on that afternoon, with the dim autumn sun diffused by the naked branches of slumbering trees, Corinna told of her horrible ordeal.

# 

#  Chapter 13

# The Abbey Dark

Corinna made her way through the rubble strewn, twisting corridors of the long forgotten abbey dark. Over its many ages, it had been buried under the newer layers of the city of Seagate. She closely followed her only companion on this trip, George the half-ogre. Secretly, she would have preferred the company of a larger party, especially going into such a large and unknown place. The abbey complex was extensive, and even though she had a general idea of where she was headed, the place had changed considerably since the days when the ancient map had been drawn. The complex was deteriorating to no end. They found many of the choice routes had been plugged by mammoth slabs of collapsed stone blocks and ruins from above. Still others were purposefully walled off, sealed by the many evil creatures that had captured the abbey at the end of its glory years. She had to believe they had sealed off the passages as a means of fortifying their crumbling fortress.

The stench of stale air, tainted by the rotting flesh long past eaten off the many skeletons they passed, kept Corinna and her huge friend gasping. They tried to filter the air through their sleeves, but even they had long ago been coated with dust and cobwebs. They coughed often, despite the risks their loud convulsions presented. Corinna expected some of the evil monsters to still be here, but only those vile and ferocious enough to live on those that might wander in. As far as Corinna was able to obtain, no one had been down to explore the old, forgotten abbey for hundreds of years. Even so, she held only little hope that the object of her perilous quest would still be there, and in a condition warranting the trek. "There's only one way to find out," she reminded herself, and pressed on.

George was a half-ogre, and by sheer definition, that meant giant. Easily towering above Corinna's slight frame, George stood all of seven feet. His massive torso was at least four feet across at the shoulders, and his finely toned, muscular body weighed in at four to five hundred pounds. He had the strength to lift a dozen men, and he swung a huge two-handed sword in a single, massive fist. What he could not push through, he simply mowed down with an incredible swat of his sword. George was so large, that at times he found it difficult to get through some of the corridors, especially when fallen beams blocked them. The ceiling shuddered as George pushed the fallen timbers aside, and Corinna feared he would bring the whole place down upon them. Still, Corinna knew that if she could not bring an entire army with her, if she had to choose only one, she could not have chosen a better-suited companion.

However large George was, he was a gentle giant. As another fate of his troubled heritage, the half-ogre was as dumb as he was large. Only able to understand a few words in the common tongue when she first met him, George quickly developed a weakness for Corinna's considerable beauty. She managed to use this attraction to befriend the great beast and educate him. He had stayed with Corinna, quite faithfully, ever since.

George also understood the pleasures that a large purse of shiny coins could get him. Greed provided him with all the motivation Corinna required of him. She would pay her loyal partner well, and if they found what they were looking for, it would be well worth the price. Besides, sometimes his ignorance provided him with a certain amount of courage, which he needed to face whatever remnants of evil may await them.

It wasn't that Corinna didn't want a larger party to accompany her, it was a fact that she couldn't find any others with the courage to face what terrors they might find in the abbey dark. Seagate was a city of high elves who had little stomach for adventures. She also could not kid herself. This wasn't the first time that the sight of her trustworthy, half-ogre companion had frightened off other company, and she was sure that it wouldn't be the last, either.

They had traveled those dark corridors for better than five days, twice as long as Corinna had bargained for. However, prepared as always, they carried provisions to last them another week or more. They plunged themselves deeper into the complex, trusting the invaluable map to guide their way. Still more passages were blocked, requiring further re-routing. These delays forced them to take an even longer way to their goal.

Despite some early encounters with several different scavenger races near the upper levels, Corinna was a bit more than concerned over their lack of resistance. Other than the ancient sealing off of tunnels they had encountered, they had found few signs of much of anything down here. It was unusual for a cavernous area so expansive, and near a large city such as Seagate, to be without monsters. It was a cause for concern. Where was everybody?

Boldly they went on, Corinna holding her torch up high, lighting the corridor for George, who led the way. George was a tactless creature, rarely looking down intersecting passages when encountering them. This made them an easy mark for an ambush, which haunted the back of Corinna's mind. But, so far, they had met with little cause for concern. George kept up a steady pace, quick, but not wearying.

As the narrow corridor ended at an archway to a much larger room, George suddenly stopped. "What is it?" Corinna whispered in common.

George crouched down, though with his huge frame, it didn't help much; he still filled the bottom of the doorway. Over his wide shoulders, Corinna saw what alarmed him. Inside the next room were the recently decimated remains of an entire troop of goblins. Their shattered corpses were splattered against the walls, skulls laid crushed or bodies ripped in two, not necessarily with both halves next to each other. It was clear, from Corinna's many years of experience in adventuring, that quite a battle had taken place here, though the goblins apparently proved little opposition.

The room beyond was quiet and dark, little consolation. Under Corinna's direction, George tossed the lit torch to the opposite end of the room. Other than the scampering of rats, it raised little attention from the silence. Corinna whispered a command word, and the headpiece of the staff she carried lit with the eerie glow of magic, as bright as the forfeited torch.

Corinna easily identified the room, lit from both ends now, as their destination. She recognized the extensive collection of paintings that still hung on the walls, and the high, vaulted ceiling which still stood on its sturdy, arched stone rafters. Even though they faded into the darkness overhead, she could see that the stone buttresses held the beautiful carvings as they were described in the ancient tome she had studied. And just as described in eerie predictability, on the opposite wall was an old altar. This sacred temple was long since lost to the fates of the gods. Best yet, still sitting and undisturbed on the alter, was the sacrifice.

Dozens of delicately carved, elven faces looked down in their gray, stone-still stares. It had been centuries since they last watched patiently over ancient elven rituals performed in these temples. Though they had been terribly disfigured by vandals, the beauty of the delicate elven forms still shone through the murkiness of the dismal place. The fine dwarven quality of stone carving shown its value. The elves of old had spared no expense on the luxury of its most inner sanctum, and it was that stubborn demand for quality that kept the integrity of that chamber now.

There was unnerving oddity in the carnage that had been played out here, and the obvious signs of its very recent passing. The stank of death still filled the air. The smell of bowels being torn open, spewing the bile within; the smell of the goblins, obvious now even after their death; and their green blood still flowing onto the rich, red carpets of this most holy chamber. Their bodies still barely radiated heat. A chill ran down Corinna's spine. Despite every sign, she was not alone in the darkness.

The alter, of course, was the best that money could buy. Large and solid, it was plated with carefully fitted sheets of gold, pounded to a thin evenness by no less than a thousand hammer strikes of metal dwarves. Several dweomers and runes to keep it safe these hundreds of years had protected it. Not even dust marred its perfect shine. While the evil and vile enemies of the elves had fouled everything else in this chamber, they could not violate the sanctity of the rune protected alter.

Safe within this bath of purity was the final sacrifice to Corellon Larethian. Stretched out as if on a funeral pyre, rested the corpse of Di'Aginon, the High Priest of this ancient order. As a sign of the final struggles that this monastery met with, being overcome by the evil hordes, Di'Aginon had plunged a silver dagger deep within his chest. According to the preset designs, this sacrifice set off many priestly magics throughout the complex, releasing gaseous and other traps that would seal the doom of the evil invaders.

Di'Aginon's body had been preserved as well as the alter upon which he rested. He looked as he did the day that he died, centuries before. He was a proud, noble elf of the finest high heritage. He was dressed in the extravagant robes of his position, with a well-deserved look of peace upon his face.

George and Corinna listened to the silence a long time, studying every corner of the darkness that awaited them. There were a number of small alcoves lining either wall, and she peered into them, waiting for the slightest shift in the shadows. Corinna's weak, human eyes found it difficult to penetrate the ebony shadows, and she knew that it was already too late, with the torch burning brightly at the other end of the room, for her to call upon George's ability to see objects by the heat they radiated. The heat of the torch, and its brightness, blinded this ability, but he conveyed that he had not seen anything prior to throwing the torch.

Despite the piles of goblin corpses that awaited them, the room looked as secure as it could be. George, eager for action, was given the word to enter. He crept forward, unusually slowly for him. Not even his ignorance, which gave way to fear, was enough to keep him from being cautious here.

It happened too quickly. Corinna wasn't able to react, even though the events at that moment seemed to slow to an eternal crawl. She had seen the faint glimmer of her staff light on the fine trip wire, just as George's large, hairy, bare foot came into contact with it. She saw the inches of dust quake and then fall free from the large blocks of stone that made up the walls of this hallway. She even saw the wall on the right start closing in, but before she could even consider which of her powerful command words to utter, or make a single hand gesture that might launch one of her powerful spells to stop it, it was all over. A block wall, cut and carefully fitted into the side, slid out across the corridor where the trip wire had been.

The powerfully sprung mass of stone struck the unsuspecting giant in the right flank, immediately crushing ribs and squeezing the air out of a ripped open lung. The wall would not be stopped there. It was terrifying how easily the great trap wall came across to smash George's huge skull, pinning it between the regular wall and its own great weight. The wall stopped with the sound of gushing brains. That was a sound that would echo in Corinna's head for years, invading her nightmares, as her mind agonizingly recounted this event. She would have liked to attribute her years of careful training with the fact that she did not scream, but she would always know that she was simply in too much shock to utter a sound.

What was left of George's body wedged the trap door partly open. Corinna, afraid of what the grinding sound of the trap being set off might attract, knew she had to move on. With the object of her quest still in sight, she could not see turning back to find another route through the maze of tunnels. She knew she had to climb past George.

With all of her strength, she fought to keep the vomit from welling up in her throat. She climbed over George's corpse and squeezed her way through the narrow opening. She winced only once, when George's body shifted to allow the wall to close in toward her. Once free on the other side, she didn't dare to risk looking back, knowing she wouldn't be able to stand the sight.

After a final, quick examination of the rafters above and the walls to the side, Corinna continued. She kept her eyes focused on the prize, the prize that would make all this worth it. Moving under the bright light of her staff, she gracefully and carefully covered the fifty or so paces across the room to where the ancient altar waited for her. She didn't bother taking time to inspect the goblin corpses that lined her path, although she knew she should have paid them more attention. The black-robed mage just kept her sights set on the altar, and the holy, golden idol that was her quest. She felt that this chamber had been made holy once again by George's death. His sacrifice paid to cleanse the ancient sanctuary.

Without incident, Corinna found herself standing face-to-face with the lost treasure. The statue was easily three hands tall, and its still-polished surface glistened with the familiar gleam of gold. The image was of an elven male, Corellon, she knew by her readings. The strong elven figure was wrapped in golden robes, which covered him from his head to his feet, much like Corinna's own black attire. The similarities amused her.

Her hands trembled with anticipation, hardly daring to touch it. Her eyes locked gazes with the simulacrum, and felt a power there. It was an ancient power, she knew, imbued by the devout followers of Corellon. She slowly reached out and caressed the golden icon, molded from the purest metal, across the decorative curls and intricately carved features. It was there, hanging over the outstretched arms and around the neck of Corellon, that she found a large medallion. It was apparently some sort of holy symbol placed there to honor the valuable gifts to the god. Looking to be of considerable value in itself, she picked up the necklace and shoved it into one of her many pockets.

There was no reason to believe the icon to be trapped, despite the tragedy at the doorway. It was not customary to trap symbols of the gods. Always cautious, however, Corinna quickly grasped the graven image in both shaking hands, and lifted it from the altar in one swift, smooth movement as she backed away several steps. She secretly hoped the distance would protect her from whatever wrath Corellon might still have to rain down upon this sacrilege.

There were no tricks, no traps, and no wrath of the gods; for only silence greeted Corinna. She dared peek open her eyes, and to her horror, the icon turned to lead! There was no treasure of the abbey.

With the sudden, eerie feeling that someone was watching her, Corinna quickly spun around. Through the partially opened doorway, she would have sworn, she saw a black figure moving in the shadows behind George's crushed body. But, before she could focus her eyes on the darkness, it was gone.

The solid gold chest was too heavy for her to move, let alone get out of the abbey quickly, and that is how she wanted to leave. She elected to abandon the disappointing container where it was.

With her mind still transfixed on the feeling that someone or something had been watching her, she left the forsaken room and, over the next day and a half, left the entire dark abbey complex without ever looking over her shoulder. When she reached the bright, warm sun of the surface, she said good-bye to her friend George. She sealed the hidden entrance up again with an explosive rockslide that brought the entire cliff down on the cavern opening.

"It was days later," Corinna explained still reeling from the experience, "before I discovered the pendant in one of my many pockets. After that, I hadn't been able to sleep or study spells until I reached Oswegonia. I'm not even sure how I got there. I don't remember much of anything between then."

"Well, you're safe now," Ace offered. "You're among friends." Everyone agreed, shaking off a shudder. Gerrod kept thinking how terrible that must have been. Suddenly, what he had faced in Argunthu didn't seem so bad. Still, he knew that being here, surrounded by her friends, somehow made it okay.

# 

#  Chapter 14

# Flicker's Fury

As they rode along, still talking freely among themselves, a low growl from Star brought Gerrod's to attention. He allowed his mind to float freely through Star's powerful senses. In the distance, the sounds of an army in the distance came through his sensitive ears. A sniff of his discriminating nose brought an unwelcome though familiar scent. Gerrod signaled for the attention of the others. "Orcs," he explained as they looked at him with concern.

Ace spat on the ground at the idea.

"How far off?" Allison asked, instinctively positioning herself between Amanda and the westward direction Gerrod faced.

"A ways yet," he said somberly, still gathering information through his link with Star. The wolf stood tall and stiff like a statue, his tail fluffed up and paw pointing straight at the threat.

"How many?" Corinna dared ask. She could tell by the serious tone of his voice that she wouldn't like the answer.

"Lots," he offered, trying to judge the volume of the rustling of leaves and constant squeals of the orcan tongue.

"How many is 'lots'?" Amanda ventured, pulling her horse out from behind Ally's protective stance.

"About fifty, I would have to guess," though Gerrod doubted his own answer.

"Fifty!" Ace cried with alarm. "What's so many of them beasts doing this far east? They hardly ever come much past Argunthu."

"Well, it's too many for a hunting party," Corinna observed.

"Not if they're hunting," and a cold chill ran down Gerrod's spine at the thought, "us."

Allison and Amanda shared threatened glances.

"Well, if it's us they wants," Ace spat determinedly, "then it's us they'll gets! Let's get ready to meet our 'friends.'"

They kept mostly to themselves, each mentally preparing in their own way for what they knew was ahead. They rode fast over a ridge or two, until they found the perfect hollow. No one looked forward to fighting the orcs, except for maybe Star, for they all knew the dangers that any fight held. Out-numbered ten-to-one, they knew that their only chance of surviving was to be prepared and act together as a team.

Ace prepared snares and traps of all kinds in the bottom of the bowl-shaped hollow they chose to make their stand in. Gerrod helped Corinna prepare platforms safely high up in the trees. Hoisted up the heights by ropes, they camouflaged the hiding places as well as possible to get the best surprise advantage they could gain. Luckily, orcs were pretty dim-witted; and this was what they counted on. Allison and Amanda busied themselves making as many arrows as they could fashion in a hurry, and setting up spells to use against the expected swarm.

The plan was simple. They surrounded the rim of the bowl, hoping that the orcs would enter it looking for them. As the others rained down arrows and magic, and Ace triggered his devious traps, Star and Gerrod would follow the orcs in, sealing off any retreat the cowardly beasts might try to make.

Star scouted back to the west, and let them know in plenty of time as the foul smelling beasts approached. As they made their noisy way over the last hill between them, they were preceded by the acrid odor that had become so familiar to Gerrod and Star in the last few years. The idea of this peaceful forest being fouled by their evil presence disgusted him.

With Star on one side, and Gerrod on the other, they moved out to flank the interlopers.

As predicted, the eager orcs made a straight line for the hollow. Fifty of the pig-snouted, grotesquely bloated short men waddled in a single, vile mass.

The first line of beasts fell as one, taken out by a barrage of arrows fired by Allison and Amanda. Then Corinna let loose two huge fireballs that cleared large holes in the tightly packed mob. They finally caught on that they were under attack and began to scatter, but not before half their number were reduced to crispy corpses.

Many, especially the least eager troops who hid in the back, decided the fight was not worth it, and tried to turn and run. There, waiting for them at the opening of the depression, stood Star and Gerrod. They stopped short at the sight of Star's growling teeth, and the flash of Gerrod's eager sword. Flicker glowed uncontrollably bright at the presence of these beasts, for Flicker had been created as an orc-slayer. The intelligent blade thirsted for the taste of orcan blood, and the fiery blue flame about the blade pulsated like a heartbeat.

Almost as if leading the way, Flicker pulled Gerrod into that frightened mass. The wicked blade swung left and right, bobbed up and down, only partly under his control. It was Argunthu all over again. The savagery of the sword was unforgiving. Orcs scrambled as fast as they could to get out of the way, but Flicker mowed them down just the same. The blade flashed like lightning, and struck faster than they could overcome their fear.

As always, there was Star standing by his side, doing his best to herd the confused, smelly beasts back into his sword's reach. Between the fangs and Flicker's fury, there was no escape for the orcs.

All about the pit of death, hysterical orcs tried to flee the mayhem that quickly overtook them. It seemed where ever they stepped, they met with another of Ace's traps. Orcs flew up into the trees by their ankles, victims of another snare. The ground fell away from others, and they found themselves plummeting into large pits. Disorganized in the stampede, many found themselves pushed into traps they tried to avoid. Wooden spikes of death awaited them below.

Both Allison and Amanda were accomplished archers. No orcs were successful in their attempts to spill over the sides of the hollow. The air rang loudly with the twang of bowstrings, the whoosh of the loosened arrows, the thuds of arrows piercing the orcs, and the death cries of those that hit the ground.

One orc, whose friends smoldered next to him, managed to think of throwing his spear before running. He saw where the terrible balls of flame had come from, and he targeted that spot high up in the trees. As he pulled back his spear, he was caught unawares by the wide blade of Ace's axe. The spear flew from his hand, but landed only a few feet away. Ace's powerful swing sliced right through the orc, who stood about Ace's own height. Ace smiled gleefully. "I cuts right through 'em!" he observed, and decided to try another orc on for size. Once again his terrible blade cut clear through the mid-section of the orc. "Now I knows why Gerrod has so much fun in them mines," Ace grinned to himself as he mowed his way into another petrified pack. They were too scared to move.

The panicked orcs, having limited intelligence anyway, were at a loss. They weren't in the dwarven mines, and they didn't know how to fight in the open like this. Everywhere they turned, more of their clan were being wiped out. Some spun around uselessly, while others sought power from their clan and clawed their own eyes out. They held the orbs up in their bloodied hands, as if sacrificing them to their god. Yeenoguian wasn't answering their prayers that day, and their agony only ended at the tip of Flicker or the swing of Ace's axe. They were surrounded, and they knew there was nothing they could do. There would be no escape for the Clan of the Bloody Eyes.

The battle ended shortly. Ace and Gerrod put those left alive and wounded out of their misery. Swiftly and mercifully came those swings, and torment ended. For those left in the pits, Allison and Amanda made their rounds. A welcomed arrow snuffed out that which only caused the orcs pain and suffering: life. Still, these were foul beasts of evil, and Amanda would offer no blessing for these soulless creatures. They died condemned.

Corinna watched the area around for more waves of orcs, but saw no signs. Ace and Gerrod began cutting the squealing victims out of the trees, and the snares that had so indignantly removed them from battle. They swiftly dispatched those they pulled down, until they got to one of the few remaining.

Being familiar with the orcs and their ways, Gerrod recognized the proud armbands of the clan leader, who identified himself as "Snark, leader of the Clan of Bloody Eyes." His eyes darted about like a caged animal. He studied Ace and Gerrod closely, and they knew he was calculating his odds of escaping. He saw the devastation that took out his mighty clan, and figured that the odds weren't good. Ace stood nearby, leaning in closely with his thick arms crossed, and held his axe boldly for Snark to see the size of the impressive blade. Snark's eyes grew wide, and he swallowed hard, as if he could feel the blade on his throat. "Me slices right through orcs!" Ace gladly verified Snark's fears.

"Me be soldier, that all," the orc lied, squirming in his boots. His short snout slowly returned to a pink color as the blood that had flooded into his head rushed out.

"What'd he say?" Ace asked. Gerrod was the only one who could understand the orcan squeals.

"Says he's just a soldier," he laughed. Gerrod reached out with Flicker, and it was all he could do to control the wildly glowing blade as he sliced the leather armbands off. As he did so, Snark trembled like a child and began to cry.

"One question," Gerrod asked the openly sobbing creature. "Why were you following us?"

Snark was beside himself with fear. He knew he wasn't able to try and hide anything from them. It was his fear alone that kept him from talking. He could do little but whimper pitifully. Gerrod was about to give up on the questioning and simply dispense with him, when a flash of memory came to him. He saw Mika being struck down.

Flicker's fury took control. In a smooth, unpredictable flash, Gerrod spun around as he started to walk away from him. Snark found his air cut off at the throat, as the hungry blade sunk deeply into his windpipe, threatening to crush it with the width of the steel. Pinned to a tree, and losing air fast, Snark had little choice but to answer questions despite his fear. "Why follow us?" Gerrod shouted as if the weight of his voice could pummel the answer out of the beaten creature.

With what little strength he had left, Snark managed to free something from a pocket in his pants. Ace started to raise his axe in reply to the movement, but was held at bay by Gerrod's wild glare. Ace knew this one was his. Through his nearly crushed windpipe, the orcan leader gasped out but a single word, "Rai'dley."

Gerrod yanked the dangling bauble from his short, fat fingers and looked at it closely. He recognized it as being Corinna's, and he suddenly understood how they had found them. "You, Snark," he spat in his face, "shall live." Ace looked at him with sudden concern, fearing the charm he held had put a spell on his friend. Gerrod lowered the pig-like man back to the ground. Snark's hand reached for his throat as the pressure eased from the blade and he fell gasping for breath. "You will return to Rai'dley," Gerrod commanded, "and report to her that you were successful in killing us."

Snark looked up, puzzled by the half-elf's motives.

"If you do not return, Rai'dley will hunt you down and boil your foul hide in her cauldron," Gerrod promised the little man. "And if you don't tell her we're all dead, she will hang your head from a pike."

Snark thought a moment and considered his options, or lack there of. He finally nodded his head in agreement, realizing the truth of what Gerrod said.

"Now return to Rai'dley and deliver that message!" he yelled as the porcine creature. Snark scurried off to the west where the clan had come from. Gerrod laughed as Star hurried Snark's pace by nipping at his heels until he was a fair distance away.

As they finished up around the hollow, and gathered the rest of their stuff, Gerrod explained to the others what had happened with Snark.

"That's the charm Rai'dley stole from me all right," Corinna confirmed when Gerrod handed it to her. A fiery look flooded her eyes as she remembered the encounter.

"Well it seems that she knows where we are," Amanda observed.

"But hopefully Snark will deliver that message, and they won't bother us any more," Ally agreed.

"Unless she's got more spies out looking for us," Ace said. "We'd better not let the Guard see us no more."

"Speaking of the King's Guard, shall we see if we can find them again?" Corinna asked.

"With the trail they've been leaving, I'm sure it won't be too hard," Gerrod answered. They collected their horses and headed on their way. They picked up the unmistakable path of overturned leaves, and were secure that once again they were on their trail.

Still, they couldn't help but to look at the woods around them differently, wondering what Rai'dley might be able to throw at them next.

# 

#  Chapter 15

# LaBairne

LaBairne hated the forest. Dozens of shadows darted in and about the trees, drawing his attention away constantly. The turn off from the security of the open road and into the forest had been an unexpected one; one he would rather have done without. It seemed everything on this trip was. Still, he had orders to follow the direction of the staff, and from that he would not stray. There was no denying, that at that point in the road, without any cause other than the magic of the staff, the flag suddenly shifted in that direction. He knew. He had tried to make it go otherwise.

They traveled through the trees for several hours. With the Guard being men of the city, used to the towering security of the high Walls of Indifference of Oswegonia, LaBairne knew they would be at a loss to find the road again on their own. They had no choice but to ride on.

It gave him little comfort against the forest, to have his army behind him. Even though they were alert and well trained, they simply lacked the experience against any real challenge. While they did fine enough against the impoverished masses of the city, and whatever weapons these mobs might have occasion to procure, they had no planned tactics against monsters, especially surrounded in the midst of trees. Under the protection of the trees, he knew they were open to ambush. From close range, his archers would be hard pressed to get a shot off before being struck down by the twisted, unseen forces that he could feel were watching him from all sides.

The army, too, was nervous in its new surroundings. The sounds of the forest were many, even above the rustling of the leaves, which sounded thunderously below their feet. Heads jerked around, scanning the shadows, peering around the columns of trees, searching for dangers that weren't even there, clueless about the dangers that were. On occasion, the ringing of a sword being drawn would rip through the silence, quickly echoed by a dozen more nearby. Murmurs of conversation that started were quickly silenced by the barked orders of superiors, who preferred the maddening silence of the rustling leaves.

"This is madness, shear madness," LaBairne decided. "I'm going to give a full report of this folly to the king personally," he noted to himself. That was if they ever saw the King and their fair city again, he thought grimly.

LaBairne found himself missing the old days when he was but a young upshot, when he first joined the Guard. This seemed to happen a lot lately.

It was a time when the Guard was a respected force; when they served to protect the King and the kingdom. The Guard had been a select group, made of men chosen to prove their worth with their honor. The tests and trials for entry were gruelingly difficult. There had been tests of not only great physical strength and endurance, tests of prowess with the sword and unmatched skill with the bow, but there were tests of principles and valor as well. The Guard had been a symbol of honor, of quality, of pride.

At that time, long ago, the Guard would ride through the streets on horseback to patrol even the lower middle class section of Essex. The crowds would respectfully part for their passing and would cheer at the justice when a dangerous criminal was captured. When a Guardsman entered a bar, citizens would gladly offer to buy them a drink.

In all of his years, albeit as few as they had been, LaBairne never knew a prouder day than when he was chosen into the service of the Guard. Visions of his protecting the kingdom from the evils of the uncivilized world flashed through his mind. He gladly polished the red-crescent helm to a brilliant shine, for that helmet stood for honor and pride.

LaBairne graduated the top of his class of new recruits that year, and as such, was granted the esteemed position of troop leader. Even then his troop took to calling him "Captain," though he was still as far away from being the Captain of the Guard as he could get. Still, the name stuck, and with everything else LaBairne got from the King's Guard, he wore the title with honor. Likewise, even though they had been designated as Griffon Troop, LaBairne's men always referred to themselves as "LaBairne's Troop."

LaBairne's Troop was a tightly knit group; all young men, all too eager to prove themselves to their parents and their King. All except for Countryman. The tender age of nineteen had found this lad with a wife and child to be taken care of.

Countryman had met his wife, whom he always referred to as "Dar," and being more full of spirits than sense, quickly found her with child. Being a man of honor, and forced into it by their parents, Dar and Countryman were married. A few months later found Countryman a father, and in need of a job.

Without the time for a proper apprenticeship to learn a craft, Countryman had turned to a life of service in the King's Guard as a way to provide for his new family. Still, despite his needs or maybe because of them, LaBairne never questioned Countryman's loyalty to the Guard.

The young men practiced their drills and took their turns at the routine patrolling of the city, anxiously awaiting their first special assignment. When the opportunity came for a unique scouting mission, LaBairne's Troop was first to volunteer.

Most of the heavy agricultural farming in Oswegonia was done south of the capital city, in the large halfling settlements there. The small family farms in the counties around Oswegonia, tucked away in the rambling hills and ranges, provided just enough food to feed their own small communities. This kept the proud people there self-sufficient from the capital city.

LaBairne had been but a young whelp back then, and all of this was but one grand adventure for the naive youth he had been. He had the impression of such openness and vastness of the world as he stepped through the open gates of the city and rode through the open countryside of the surrounding counties for the first time.

It was the first of spring when LaBairne's Troop was dispatched to the wilderness. Most of the snow from the long winter was just about gone, with only patches found in the sun protected north slopes of hills and under the thick growth of trees.

Several farmers, eager to set their herds of cattle out to pasture, were quick to notice the terrible slaughter of some of their prized bovines. The cleaned bones and unusable guts were mysteriously left in the fields, the meat stripped off the still warm carcasses. The farmers feared that large packs of wolves, hungry from their long wintering, were taking advantage of the easy cattle kills to do their spring feasting.

LaBairne's Troop was sent out to locate the starving wolf packs. Once found, they were to send for additional troops before trying to kill off the dangerous beasts. The King's orders had been clear, "Don't try to be heroes. Wait for backup."

LaBairne noticed, even then, the subtle differences between those who dwelled in the city and those who chose to live in the open countryside. These were clearly a hardier breed of men, willing to work hard for their sustenance, usually for long, harsh days. These people weathered the cruelties of the strong winds that ripped freely across the vast open fields, and withstood the harshness of the horribly long winters with only what goods they managed to store away. They lived those long cold winters in isolation, cut off from supplying towns or cities. These men worked hardest in the summer when the days were longest. They pounded dry, hard fields under the blazing heat of the summer sun. If these people respected the Guard for whatever protection they could offer, LaBairne certainly respected them.

Those first weeks LaBairne spent outside the city hadn't been completely unpleasant ones. In his youthful eagerness to explore new lands and to experience new things, the countryside provided an exciting alternative to the city he had spent his entire life in.

There were entirely different sounds and smells to excite his senses. The air was alive with the emerging life of spring, and it was as if the whole world was awakening from a long, silent slumber. Birds and animals of all kinds chirped and chattered in their harmonious songs to great the coming season. Fields of blooms, representing every color LaBairne could ever imagine, scented the air with intoxicating aromas; like the foreign perfumes sold in the city's Market Square. But this was real -- it was life.

At night, they sat around campfires and told of their families. Countryman bragged of his wife, Dar, and little girl, Tabby. Their real names were Darlene and Tabitha, but in his pride he never called them that; it was always Dar and Tabby. Tabby was two then, and had learned to talk. Of course she only said the cutest of things.

Countryman was a giant of a man, but his gentle nature shone through whenever he spoke of Dar and Tabby. He had a grin that was as wide as his huge chest.

LaBairne also remembered a balding man named Fritz, who always had a story at hand about one of his hundreds of crazy uncles. He told of a different uncle every night. He never lacked for an amusing tale. Those yarns around the campfire strengthened the spirits and their camaraderie.

Even though LaBairne's Troop had traveled many miles, they had yet to come across anything unusual or menacing. They found that the entire situation intimidated them. They had no way to tell if anything was amiss in this strange world. They traveled from town to town, interviewed the people, and stayed in spare rooms provided by the grateful farmers whenever they could. The patrol was going great, and for LaBairne, that meant uneventfully. That was until they entered Notluffe.

The small village of Notluffe, far northeast of the capital city of Oswegonia, had been the target of the most recent attacks. Despite their long and meandering route through several other villages along the way, this was their intended destination. The frustrated farmers of Notluffe feared for their losses, which had been substantial. These gentle folk weren't so patient waiting for them to arrive. In the weeks it had taken LaBairne's Troop to get there, additional cattle had been lost, costing the farmers dearly. The farmers demanded results quickly, and didn't want to hear of any lengthy investigation.

LaBairne's Troop worked long days then, interviewing and doing follow-up reports on the seemingly random strikes. At night, when the killings had been taking place, they patrolled the endless wilderness. LaBairne knew they could only hope to be in the right place at the right time, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be. The eager Troop hoped, with every report of a new strike, that they were moving closer to the marauding thieves.

Finally, late one night, LaBairne's Troop heard the baying. The moon was a clear, silvery sliver in the darkened sky. Millions of sparkling stars shone above, looking over them. The horrible sound ran down LaBairne's spine and raised the hair on the back of his neck. The brave Troop charged toward the sound of the telltale barking and yelping, using it as a guide through the darkness.

LaBairne clenched the saddle tightly as his powerful steed lunged through the forest, sending low branches whipping across his body, stinging his exposed face and hands. Through the cold of the night air and the pain of a hundred lashes from the fine switches, he could hardly hang onto the leather reins.

Two miles later, LaBairne's Troop burst through the edge of a large pasture. The barking and baying had already stopped. They closed in the rest of the way, based only on their newly acquired knowledge of the area. By the time they arrived on the scene of the carnage, the intruders had retreated back into the wilderness. Under the pallor of the moon's dim light, they discovered the abandoned remains of another fresh kill. The blood still drained across the soaked ground.

Without needing to inspect the all too familiar sight further, and the wolves so close at hand, LaBairne decided to lead the patrol into the wilds to pick up the chase. LaBairne knew the farmers wouldn't understand his orders to "wait for backup," and so LaBairne made the decision to not follow orders.

The ten eager soldiers of LaBairne's Troop charged on, trying to keep each other in sight through the thick forest. The men on either side of LaBairne ducked in and out of sight as they flashed between the trees.

LaBairne's vision wavered as another low branch slapped him right across the face. He saw the color of blood flow into his steely-gray eyes. His helmet slid forward, further blinding him. He wasn't prepared, and had little chance of staying in his saddle, when his mount suddenly stopped in its tracks and reared up.

LaBairne was thrown clear, landing in thick brush several feet away. It was the cover of that growth, and that alone, that saved his life that night. From this hiding spot, he witnessed the massacre that was to ensue.

Hideous, dog-like humanoids jumped out from behind every tree, startling all the horses, and snatching up LaBairne's fallen comrades. Some were taken captive, but most were attacked by accurately placed blades or savagely bitten in the throat. Those bitten lost half the meat there to these foul beasts.

Throughout the horrible ordeal, LaBairne sat helpless, watching the slaughter of his men. The thought echoed endlessly in his head over and over, "He had not followed orders."

Some of LaBairne's Troop managed to engage the dog-men in combat, either from atop their nervous mounts, or from a sturdy battle stance. Countryman, his face twisted with pain and concern for his Dar and Tabby, made a valiant effort. Skilled swords and other weapons that had no doubt been scavenged off past defeated foes quickly met his bravery. Countryman's finely crafted Longsword of the Guard was similarly picked up that day. Eventually, even those able to fight were forced into submission, often over-powered by monsters two or three feet taller than them.

LaBairne was paralyzed by the thought; he had not followed orders.

LaBairne watched as Fritz's limp body was carried away to a fate too terrible for him to consider. Even the horses, dead or alive, were taken. One sword-armed dog, standing over seven feet tall, sliced off a large strip of the horse meat and devoured it whole before he hoisted the sliced carcass into the air. It started, and was quickly joined by others, in a throaty howl of wild baying.

Silent tears ran down LaBairne's face. LaBairne's Troop was no more. He had not followed orders.

LaBairne considered himself lucky, if not a coward. The strong stench of blood filled the air and masked his own scent. Horrified by the carnage he witnessed, LaBairne sat perfectly still, too afraid to even breathe. He wasn't sure how long he sat there. He only knew that he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, or else they would come back for him. He knew they would come back and strip the meat from his bones. They would punish him for not following orders.

The early morning light of the next day found LaBairne still huddled in the shrubs, wide eyes darting from tree to tree, waiting for the shadows to move. He studied each tree in detail. As he scanned the empty forest, he compared the outline of every trunk to that he had memorized. He knew that the trunks would change, that they were waiting for him to move, and that they would jump out and attack him. So LaBairne sat there, huddled against the paranoia, hiding in the empty forest.

Later, the creatures would be identified as gnolls, but putting this label on the horror did little to compensate for the nightmares these memories brought him in the months and occasionally years to follow. He vowed to never leave the city again, and until this mission, he had abided by that oath. Things would be different this time, he promised himself. This time, he would follow orders.

LaBairne and his army followed the magically directed banner for several more days, through the thick wilds of the forest, and the increasingly steep terrain of the emerging mountainside.

In the quiet solitude of the forest, LaBairne found himself thinking of his years in the King's service more and more.

After that initial gruesome mission into the wilderness, he had been treated as a hero. He was soon promoted, and had since worked his way up to the top of the ranks. Maybe it was just his increasing awareness of how the Guard was run, but it seemed much more than a loss of innocence he saw around him.

King Lonnequist had seceded his father, some five years ago. With the new king came many new ideas, and many changes, as there often were at these times. But this time, it was different. LaBairne saw these changes effect him and the Guard.

The new king was concerned with his long list of new taxes. While Oswegonia had always been a prosperous city for both the king and its people, this didn't seem to be enough for the greedy Lonnequist. He began taxing everything he could think of. As the people found these new taxes endangering their comfortable lifestyles, the King's Guard were called into action "to protect the King."

The Guard took on the new role of tax collector, and as this happened, it was clear that more men were needed for all the extra duties. Now the Guard had to protect the city from both outside the high walls, and from within. As laws were decreed by the King, and penalties for not paying the taxes increased, the need for honorable and noble Guards decreased. Gone were the proud traditional tests of honor. It became clear to LaBairne that King Lonnequist resolved to rule with an iron fist.

But LaBairne was a career man. The King's Guard was the only thing he knew. So, even though he saw the changes coming down all around him, he stayed the course and adapted to the new philosophies. It was easier than changing careers at his age, or so he convinced himself.

He looked to Dougherty, his steadfast, right-hand man. Dougherty was one of the new recruits. Strong and burly, he was anything but humble in his opinions. He had no qualms with speaking his mind, and figured that everyone else had a right to hear it. He was a bold, brash man, and he fit in well with the new King's Guard. He was everything LaBairne was not. This thought didn't settle well with LaBairne.

It was on Yeenogday, the first of the Dark Days that marked the beginning of the weekend, that LaBairne found himself riding up to an unremarkable cavern opening. The obedient flag pointed into its open mouth. With a bark of command, a half dozen men scurried into the darkness, lighting torches to guide them as they entered. They were gone an uncomfortably long time before returning with their report. The cave was a deep one, with no end in sight. A complex network of branching tunnels, they seemed to go on forever; and they did.

"This could be a problem," LaBairne informed Dougherty who rode up next to where he had stopped. "There's no way of telling how deep this thing is. If my hunch is right, though, it's going to be quite a while before we see the light of day again," he confided grimly as they stared into the black hole in the side of the mountain.

"We've been living off the game we catch around our nightly camp sites," the young commander observed. "Who knows what we'll find in there," he replied sniffing the air distastefully as if his large nose detected the stench of death. "Chances are, it won't be edible."

"Looks like we're going to have to carry enough supplies in to last us, then," LaBairne sighed uneasily, studying the surrounding inclined area. "We'll set up camp there," pointing to a more level place, "and hunt this area until we can gather enough supplies."

"We'll need water, too," Dougherty added. "There was a stream not too far back. Once we get set up, we can send a patrol back to scout out that creek. We can make up skins enough to hold water for the trip."

"Make it so," LaBairne ordered in his low, baritone voice. He removed his gold-crescent helm and led the way down to the level clearing. Dougherty, scurrying down the line behind him barking orders, sent a smile across LaBairne's worried face. He liked commanding an army, he decided. After all these years, his hair now graying, he had finally gained the position he had longed for. It felt good to know he had complete control over every situation. He had trained the troops himself, often overseeing many of the drills personally, and he took great pride in the long line of red-crescent helms behind him.

The open clearing quickly filled with the make- shift tents of the King's Guard. Patrols of various sizes set out in every direction to scout out the area before nightfall. Some scouted out the ridge that loomed over them, some seeing what laid down the steep mountainside below them. Still other groups, small patrols of ten men each, made their way back the way they had come, toward the members of Wefpub.

#  Chapter 16

# Face of the Enemy

Ace and Gerrod halted their party when they saw that the troops ahead of them, still in the distance, had stopped. After a quick look around the outskirts of a nearby clearing, Ace reported that the Guard was setting up camp below a cave opening. The unusual stop before sun down indicated that they had reached a marker in their trip. The amount of settling the tired men were doing signaled that they planned on being there for a while. They gathered stones for fire pits, set up scheduled watches, and even set up defensive perimeters around their camp; far too much effort for an ordinary overnight stay. Come nighttime, Ace planned another trip, trusting in the darkness of the night to help him get closer. Perhaps he could get close enough to hear talk around the campfires. For now, though, there was little for them to do than set up a camp of their own and wait. They found a defensible spot some ways back from where the army had set up their outpost.

A little after nightfall, Ace slipped out into the darkness of the shadows, taking a rounded trip towards the Guards' camp.

"Perhaps you should take Star," Gerrod suggested. The ranger spoke into the pitch of the night, refusing to allow his eyes to slip into the more comfortable infrared spectrum. He couldn't see anything past the glare of their firelight, and he knew the army wouldn't be able to either, but it was always better to be safe. He didn't like the thought of Ace being out there in the dark, alone against two hundred soldiers.

"Must think I'm getting soft," he harrumphed. "I don't need your dog," Ace protested. But when Star gazed over at him from where he was laying, those big soft wolf eyes looking so hurt at the insult, Ace quickly rescinded. "Well, just in case I do get in trouble. As long as he stays out of my way." As he left, with Star padding behind, they all agreed that Star was wearing soft on Ace.

They built a small fire to keep warm. They kept their distance from the enemy camp so there was no risk of the army seeing their fire through the thick trees. That was why Gerrod was quite surprised, a short while later, to hear the rustling of fallen leaves, and the quiet but obvious signaling whistles of a patrol.

The ranger could tell by the sounds they made that there were not any more than four or five in the patrol, but they were attempting to circle around them. Gerrod could barely see their forms flitting between the trees, the heat from their bodies just blurs of red to his night eyes. "Looks like we're not the only ones with friends in the woods," he remarked casually, directing attention to the sounds he'd heard.

Corinna quickly assigned targets, directing Allison and Amanda in one direction, and her and Gerrod in another. It was important to spread out, in order to avoid all of them from being caught up in a magical spell or too close to each other to defend themselves. In too close of battle, a deflected sword can injure or even kill a friend standing close by. But first, they needed the soldiers to come into the circle of light of their campfire. It was difficult fighting in the dark, and they didn't want to attract any more unwanted attention.

It was clear that the leader of the group was surprised by their find and at a loss as to how to handle the situation. He obviously wasn't expecting to find people camping out here in the wilderness, especially so close to their outpost. Now that he had stumbled upon them, he didn't know how to proceed. This indecision showed his lack of experience in patrols. These campers weren't street scum, and these weren't the streets of Oswegonia where the King's Guard ruled. Out here in the wilderness, these adventurers were far more at home than he and his equally numbered troops.

"Good eve'," he greeted, stepping boldly from the seclusion of the trees. It was clear the party was aware of their presence. His young voice stammered with his uncertainty. "What business have you in these woods?" he demanded, a brave false front that served as a poor mask for the quivering hand on his sword hilt.

"Seems the question should be, 'What brings you out into these woods?' Surely the streets of Oswegonia seem more fitting for the likes of you and your sturdy little band," Gerrod observed.

Gerrod's refusal to give into his demands, and knowledge of his limited numbers, upset the young leader as he knew it would. He rocked nervously from one foot to the other, his hand flinching and stretching near his sheathed sword. He was used to attitudes, but out here he had no authority to order people around and no dungeon to throw them in for being unruly. Without a legion to call upon for backup, he suddenly felt way over his head.

"We are furriers, come to bring in some pelts and, hopefully, a handsome profit for our troubles," he lied. Gerrod guessed this young soldier couldn't tell a furrier from a farmer, and it was all that Corinna and the girls could do to keep from busting out laughing at such an obvious, bold tale. A wide grin spread across Allison's face. This type of teasing was right up her alley. In the very least, Gerrod hoped the tale would lull the guard into a sense of security, however false. The last thing they needed was this troop to flee into the woods, back to report to their camp. They would bring back their legion of reinforcements, and hunt them down. That would not be good.

Gerrod could tell that the young leader no longer feared their band. His sword arm no longer quivered, and the muscled chest under the heavy platemail puffed back up in a bold show of courage and authority. After all, he considered, this was only one man and three women. It apparently didn't give him much question, three women and a man being furriers, especially with Corinna dressed in her black robes and Amanda's obvious clerical vestments. Gerrod didn't question this stupidity or their good fortune. He tried to keep the attention centered on him, as he heard chants starting up behind him. He had to give the girls time to do what ever they planned.

"So," Gerrod asked again, "you never did answer my question. What brings soldiers from the King's Guard of Oswegonia so far from home?"

"The business of the King's Guard is none of yours," he avoided the question once more, unsure of how to answer. "How is it that we did not see you here as we passed through this spot this afternoon?"

"We came from the south, making our way up the mountain. It was here that we tired of the climb, and so here we camped. Sorry if it's an inconvenience to you and your troops. We certainly didn't mean to startle you with our presence."

"Not at all, I assure you," he responded with a grin. Gerrod had seen that look in men's eyes before. He realized that no one would question their disappearance out here in the woods, and they would make a fine prize to take back to camp. He would proudly display Gerrod's dead body, and the women would make more than suitable entertainment for the low moraled troops who had been on the road for too long. Gerrod would not be able to distract him much longer.

Gerrod could almost see the plan form in the man's head, could hear the thoughts click into place, knew the exact moment he decided to react to it. In a flash, his hand reached for his sword, and swung its length out of the sheath. He dove, head long, thrusting the sword point before him, hoping to run Gerrod through with his surprise attack.

But somewhere, between where he stood and where Gerrod waited only five feet away, he was suddenly over come by the power of Corinna's spell. Moving now only under his own momentum, he tripped over his own lifeless feet and came crashing to the ground before the ranger. Gerrod easily deflected what was left of his attack, as he fell into a deep slumber. As the wave of magic reverberated out, he heard similar sounds of collapsing men all around them, and realized they had all fallen to Corinna's sleep spell.

It didn't take long to round up the members of the ill-fated scout troop, and drag their unconscious bodies into a large, makeshift cage Gerrod constructed to hold them. They were stripped of their equipment, and bound and gagged. Once the men were inside the cage, they hoisted them high into the canopy of limbs above. They would escape eventually, but not before the party was long gone. Until then, they couldn't alert their friends, and they didn't get in anyone's way.

Looking at the pile of bright, shiny armor they had stripped from their captives, Corinna got an idea. She secretly discussed her plan with Amanda and Allison, who seemed more than willing to go along with it. Like children gleefully playing dress up, they started putting on the suits of armor. While the large metal pieces fit Gerrod fine, though he found the heavy encasement of metal too restrictive and uncomfortable, it was obviously far too large for the others. Even Allison, who had grown thick with muscles, was not the right shape to fill in the bronze plates.

Once they were dressed in the amusing armor, the women began to chant again. Gerrod recognized Alley and Mandy's chant as a prayer to Corellon Larethian. Corinna was casting a spell. Within minutes, all three beautiful ladies started to grow and change. Before his eyes, they transformed into three human males, all appropriately dressed in the suit of armor of the King's Guard. While they could never have passed as members of the Guard before, now they were as indistinguishable as Gerrod was. With these costumes and their new forms, they would be able to march right along with the army, taking the place of the soldiers they had captured.

"So how do we look?" Corinna asked in her new, deeper male voice. Its sudden throatiness surprised her, but she swallowed hard and tried to act serious like a real guard.

Gerrod was astonished as he walked all the way around each of them, barely able to believe what he had just witnessed. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would have had trouble understanding it. While they didn't look like anyone in particular that he knew, they were very detailed transformations, complete with the shadow of a beard on unshaven faces. As Amanda explained, in every practical sense, they had become human men. For Alley and Mandy, this was by a very special spell of their god. They said that Corellon's granting of this spell meant that he understood the urgency of this quest. This special ability was granted, only in the most desperate of circumstances.

They sat around the campfire with their enemies hanging in the cage above them, getting to know their new equipment, and becoming familiar with the new faces. Gerrod was just finally getting used to them himself, a queer feeling running up and down his back about this whole thing, when out of the silent woods stepped Ace. His battle-axe gleamed at the ready.

"Tell me, stinking dogs, where be me friends?" he demanded in a convincingly threatening tone.

Amused that the deception was so complete to fool even their old friend, Allison could not help herself but to torture Ace. Gerrod stayed to the back, so Ace wouldn't recognize his familiar face, and to give him a better view of the three transformed women. They would let Allison have her fun. Of course Star recognized them at once, by their scents, but obeyed Gerrod's mental command to stay where Ace had told him to hide in the bushes.

"You are nothing but a grouchy old dwarf wandering around in the middle of the woods late at night," Allison charged, her own bravado voice almost as deep as Ace's. "What manner of friends could a grouchy old dwarf like you have?"

Ace was fuming at the insults, both at himself and his friends whom he honored. While he didn't like being played with, he also didn't care for the odds of this encounter. Still, he studied them carefully with an eye towards taking on the lot of them if he didn't get the answers he wanted. "The manner of which were camping out on this very spot when I left them, this very eve," he huffed back, undaunted by Allison's intimidation.

"If they were indeed here, the lot of them must have run off when they heard us near. For clearly you can see none here but the honorable men of the King's Guard," she teased further.

"There be none but cowards before me now! It would be a fine day indeed when my friends would seek refuge from the likes of you," Ace returned, a lather of spit forming in his beard about his mouth, giving him a wild look.

"Your slander tempts me to cut out your tongue, dear dwarf. I bid you leave before I give in to my passions. I cannot allow you to belittle the King's Guard so. Be gone, little man, and save your pride and your life," Allison chided still.

Ace turned a deep shade of red, stomping the ground like a raging bull. He never did care for trying to reason with the King's Guard, and these four before him were no different. Worked into a battle rage, he sprang forward, his great axe slicing into the air in front of him. He was set to clear a path straight through them.

In a lightning fast response, only slowed a bit by the bulk of the new armor, Allison instinctively trapped Ace's blade into the dirt, under a heavily booted foot, while kneeing him in the face with an armored leg.

Ace refused to release the grip on his weapon, and worked to twist it out from under the great fighter's foot. A light line of blood drained from his nose, but he would not let that slow his conviction. The deception had gone far enough.

"Hold, good friend," Gerrod called out from his place in the back of the group, and stepped out into the light so his friend could focus on his face. "Relax, Ace. It's us."

Straining his blood-clotted vision to focus on the source of the familiar voice, Ace squinted to recognize Gerrod beneath the red-crescent helm. He mindlessly dropped the handle of his weapon in shocked recognition. "Gerrod? What in Moradin -- ?"

Gerrod laughed at the surprised look on Ace's face as he struggled to recognize the other strange men. "I'd like to introduce you to Corinna, Amanda, and of course you've already met Allison," Gerrod said smugly, pointing to each. They waved in a more characteristic wave in return. Ace would scarcely believe it until he saw Star come out of his hiding to sit by his companion's side.

"In the name of the gods, what has happened?"

"And of course," Gerrod pointed to the cage hidden above, continuing his introductions, "the real 'stinking dogs' you would have defended us from."

With a dim light of understanding, at the sight of the men wearing nothing but their underclothes, Ace began to piece together what had happened. His eyes suddenly scowled at the women. "I should have known. Magic!" he spat onto the ground. "If I'd had sense about me, I would have seen it earlier."

"Ours is not magic," Amanda was quick to defend her god. "Ours is a gift of our god. Corellon Larethian smiles favorably on those who do his work," she explained emphatically in a preachy voice.

"Forgive my sister," Allison apologized, as she always did whenever Amanda took on that tone. "It's just that we take great offense at the naming of the works of Corellon as simple magic. It happens everywhere we go."

"Yes, I'm sorry," Amanda jumped in. "Occupational hazard."

"And forgive me too," Allison continued, with only minor irritation for her sister's interruption. "Perhaps I let the joke go on too long. I hope I didn't hurt your nose. Would you like me to look at it?"

"No offense taken, I'm sure," Gerrod agreed, accepting the apology for the still embarrassed and stunned dwarf. "I think we kind of flustered our dear friend."

"What in the name of the gods are you kids planning now?" Ace stammered, still lost in his own bewilderment.

"With these costumes," Corinna explained, "we'll be able to travel right with the Guard. That way, they won't be able to lose us once their tracks are not so easily followed within the caverns."

"Well you'll not be stretching me out to fill one of those tin cans! And don't be thinking they won't be noticing a dwarf among them. Even they aren't that stupid," Ace pointed out.

"That's why you'll have to take the cargo ride." Gerrod diplomatically filled him in on this particularly unpleasant part of the plan.

"You mean to carry me around like a piece of baggage? I won't have it!" Ace objected, as they feared he might.

"Well, maybe at least when you can't keep to the shadows and trail us," Gerrod compromised tactfully. "Otherwise, you'd have a seat of honor, being carried around like a king on a throne," he promised.

"Foolhardy plan if I ever heard tell of one. But with these folk, it may just work. Besides, we got a while before we've to worry about it. It looks like our friends are going to be here a while. They're hunting and stocking up, curing meats and everything. Probably in preparation to move into those caves, as we suspected. Planning a very long journey, too, judging by the amount of supplies they're packing."

"Would it help to talk to our friends up there in the tree?" Corinna asked, pointing to the cage above.

"Doubt it. Seems you're right about their leadership, Corinna. I don't think even LaBairne knows exactly how long they'll be. They're stocking up, just in case. I doubt the likes of this patrol would know much of value."

"We should have our own supplies, just to minimize our need to interact with the real Guard. We may look the part, but one wrong slip, and they could catch onto us," Allison offered.

"Agreed. We'll spend our time hunting as well. We'll keep our camp here until they enter the caves, and then we'll join them," Corinna decided.

"What of our friends up above?" Gerrod asked.

"We'll have to keep them there until we break camp. After that, I'll send them all back off to sleep for a very long time. They'll be ill equipped to follow us. We'll make sure we feed and water our 'stinking dogs,'" she joked. They all joined in laughter. Ace took it all in good humor, as he always did.

# 

#  Chapter 17

# Into Darkness

They spent that entire following week camping out and hunting, as did their friends, the King's Guard. They donned their disguises quite often, and journeyed into the camp of the enemy. They practiced their relations with them, blending in among their ranks. They would wander about for a while, gather what information and stocks they could get, use their supplies to cure their meats, and then wander back to their own clearing. They would compare their notes there, and the women would laugh amongst themselves, about their experiences of being men.

Most of the time, however, they enjoyed the freedom outside the heavy, bulky bronze armor. Gerrod spent a lot of time out hunting with Star, simply enjoying the woods. They all knew it may be quite a while before they had this freedom again. Star was quite helpful in herding game toward him while he hid up in a tree. Many deer and other small game fell to their ambush and to the tip of his arrows. They cleaned the carcasses in the wild, and Star was usually paid quite well for his work. Gerrod even devised a small skid, and Star gladly helped haul the meat back to the camp. They soon had as much food prepared as they could carry.

Ace used the hides of the deer to make water skins. Allison filled them in the same fresh creek the soldiers used, and sometimes they even went with the soldiers themselves, as part of their exercises. It wasn't quite ale, Ace protested, but it would help keep them going.

They all knew this trip wasn't going to be fun, but they managed to keep themselves busy with their friends. All in all, it was time well spent. Gerrod decided this was better than cleaning more orcs off his sword. It felt good to be back with Wefpub again. He didn't realize how much he had come to miss the friends of his youth.

At the start of the following weekend, the King's Guard started filing into the mouth of the cave. As if swallowing a giant, glittery snake, the long stream of bronze, red-crescent helms slithered in. Throughout this trip, the choice of the King's Guard to travel on the weekends upset the members of Wefpub greatly. The three days of the weekend were called the Dark Days. These were the days set aside for the evil races, and generally, no traveling or business was conducted on these days. Still, the King's Guard marched on, never even slowing to respect this long-standing tradition. Either their business was so urgent as to not be able to wait, or they truly were evil and chose to exercise their rights as such to march so boldly. Either way, Wefpub had no choice but to follow them into the cold, dark realm of the caves.

Over Gerrod and Star's many years together, and through his lengthy stays with the kind stone dwarves, Star had grown remarkably adept at life in the caverns. Even as unnatural a setting as it was for him, he proved most helpful in routing out the armies of orcs who flooded into the mines. At times, he even seemed to enjoy it. He had learned to hide in the shadows and move silently in the hushed environment. His keen senses served him well, even in the unlit darkness. His loyalty to Gerrod was unquestionable; he would go wherever he sent him, trusting his friend wouldn't send him into any undue harm. If Gerrod was ever in trouble, Star was always there to help him out. In those years of traveling solitude, the wolf was far more than a simple companion \-- he was a friend.

Gerrod debated long and hard with Star, who knew what he was thinking. Gerrod was considering not allowing Star to follow him into the caves now. He would stay out if the ranger told him to, but Star pleaded with those warm, kind eyes not to. Gerrod had no idea what they would be facing, or even how long they would be, if they ever did return. If he commanded Star to stay, how long would he be bound to his command? Would that be fair, leaving him alone in the wilderness isolation? How could he ask him to accompany him into the unknown? He worried what might happen if the Guard discovered him.

But through it all, Star simply stared at him. He stared at him as he had the day Gerrod first found him in that snow-covered pit. Through those wide-open eyes he could see what his companion thought, even without any mental connection. Gerrod could see the answers to all his questions and fears. Star did not want to stay behind. He begged him to trust in him and his abilities. He would follow him into the caves and fight horrors untold if need be, but he needed to be with him as much as Gerrod needed him near him. The bond that was between them would not allow that kind of separation. With a nod of understanding, Gerrod agreed. Star licked his face with gratitude.

As the last of the troops formed up into their lines to enter the cave, the disguised women and Gerrod merged in. They joined as the rear ranks the best they could. Ace hid among the trees with Star and waited for them to enter and secure their positions as the rear guard. This allowed the two friends, while staying out of sight, to follow closer than they normally would have dared. It felt good to know that they had friends among the shadows behind them.

The King's Guard, consisting of all humans of course, needed the aid of light to navigate through the dark stone corridors. This light came in the form of bright lanterns carried every so often down the winding trail of soldiers. They had used these same lanterns on their long marches through the nights. Now, with all daylight lost behind them, they proved invaluable.

Having kept this journey up longer than LaBairne had anticipated when they had left the comforts of Oswegonia many weeks ago, the pure oil these lamps burnt was almost depleted. As a substitute, they used the oil from boiled animal fat, from the week's worth of hunting. It didn't burn as brightly as the finer oil the thick wicks were used to, but the shadows still ran up the walls and created an unnumbered amount of phantasms and imaginary monsters that leapt out at the minds of the troops.

The fat didn't burn nearly as cleanly as the fine oil did either. Thick black smoke gathered at the ceiling above as the army passed underneath. In the still, stale air of the long forgotten corridors, the smoke choked their lungs.

The stone corridors they traversed were probably gnomish in origin, Corinna decided. She studied the complex maze and the craftsmanship after several hours of marching. It excited them to consider the possibility that these might be the fabled Thraxton Mines.

According to myth, centuries ago there was an entire community of gnomes who settled in a place they called the Thraxton Mines. These industrious, shorter cousins of the dwarves carved themselves an ancestral home out of the mountain. In that mountain, they found streams of rare and precious gems. Marveled by their great beauty, the gnomes traded these gems to other races on trips into Highpoint, where they were greatly valued for their size and quality. The gnomes used this wealth to buy only the best of everything. In the Thraxton Mines, the gnomes lived in lavish splendor.

These corridors, as was the gnome custom, were carved out in an ancestral tree-type design. Whenever a new generation would start a family, the gnomes would dig down a set number of feet, and start a new level of the mines. Then, as every son of the family came of age, they would start a new tunnel off the original family room, thus starting a new branch in the tree. At the intersection of the two tunnels, they would carve the name of the founding male. When it came time for them to start a family of their own, they again would dig down another level. In this way, the entire structure became a physical record of the gnomish community and history.

Gnomes weren't a greedy lot, and so they tended to mine wherever the rocks led them. And it never mattered whether there may be gems left on the level above, the son would always drop down to his own level upon the birth of his first child. This had been their way for generations upon generations, and the stubborn gnomes never varied. Family and tradition were of utmost importance to them.

Eventually, the gnomes created this marvelous complex maze of inter-connecting caverns. In fact, the industrious gnomes were said to have eventually dug down so deeply, that they came upon an extensive underground world known simply as the Underworld. The Underworld was an area where all the deepest and darkest of evils lived. It was believed that the demons themselves lived there, and all who entered were doomed to die.

It wasn't long after this that the gnomes started to disappear. According to stories told in Highpoint, relayed by those who brought the gems there for trade, whole families were snatched right up without traces. It was believed, among the gnomish people, that perhaps they had gone too far down, opened up a gateway into the Underworld, and had released one of those demons upon the world. They believed that it was this demon that devoured the missing gnomes. Eventually, the gnomes of the Thraxton Mines stopped coming to Highpoint all together. The location of their hidden mines was never found, but it was said that there were plenty of gems and riches awaiting those that found those hallowed halls.

And so it was that they became excited by the prospects that perhaps they had found the fabled mines. If so, then Rai'dley's tale to the King was true, and that may have been reason enough to bring an entire army all the way from Oswegonia to protect the find. However, they feared if that was the case, then the whole trip wouldn't have brought them any closer to the Orb of the Righteous.

Persistently, they trudged onward.

Perhaps as much as LaBairne disliked the woods, Gerrod disliked the mines. Being a man of nature, he found nothing natural in the endless miles of carved tunnels. Sheer, cubicle walls sliced out of solid rock by the forces of the eternal pick strikes of the diminutive gnomes. Short as they were, though, they enjoyed their space, and all of their tunnels were a standard ten-foot tall. For this, at least, Gerrod was grateful.

Judging by the state of disrepair, the mines had obviously been abandoned many eons ago. There were sections that had caved in, and needed excavating to allow their passage, and other areas that were completely impassable due to the mushrooms that clogged the wide hallways. But in all those years, the mines had not stayed empty. On the upper levels, they found several bands of kobolds, gnolls and goblins that had organized together to take advantage of any poor creatures that might have wandered into the caves. Later, on the lower levels, they found only signs of the forces that lurked around the corners and carefully hid away from the passing of such a large army. There were also many underground creatures, cave fishers, black puddings, and even some minotaurs that had found a home among the dank but secure ruins.

Those beasts that the army could not avoid conflict with fell under the greater masses of two hundred skilled swords. They easily overran the beasts, accomplishing with their great armor and skill what the orcs had tried to do to the stone dwarves for centuries. Gerrod used his knowledge of this battle style to quickly gain the advantage for his party. Many times they would slice a clear path through the back of the defenders and wait out the conflict. They had no qualms with these creatures, and no desire to prove themselves in battling these outnumbered unfortunates.

Still, there were no animals the ranger was familiar and comfortable with, no trees or bushes; not even grass. The closest thing the caverns offered in the way of plant life were strange mushrooms and a perverted, slimy fungus, which coated everything. Perhaps worst of all, they had stolen the sky from him and left him with nothing but a cold, dark slab of stone. There were no stars or moon to say good night to, and no bright sun to greet him in the morning. Even in the stone dwarven mines, he often found it necessary to return to the surface just to breathe in the cool, fresh air. The air in the underground becomes so stale.

Without the sun and the moon above them, time and direction lost all meaning. There was no way to tell when one day ended and the next day started. Their slow, descending journey became stilted as the army marched until they were tired or hungry. They rested only as long as they needed before picking up where they left off. It was impossible to tell whether they had been days, weeks, or months.

It was when they finally left the neatly cut, smooth walled corridors and entered into the more natural chambers that they knew they had entered the Underworld. With this change came many new sights, wonders, and horrors. The natural caverns of the Underworld provided much more variety and interest than the endless corridors of repetitious, monotonous tunnels. Each natural chamber was filled with oddly shaped and wondrous stalactites and stalagmites. There were ponds of water, acid, and occasionally, a stream of molten lava. They were hot, cold, wet, or dry. Sometimes they were huge, expanding before them into the darkness beyond the normal limits of the lamps, and still other times they needed to squeeze themselves through openings barely large enough for their bulky armor to fit through. More and more natural life could be seen. A greater variety in the peculiar mushroom plants, and a large number of red glowing, infravisioned eyes peered out at them. These creatures of darkness simply watched with wonder as the large army passed through. They contemplated feasting on all of their carcasses.

For the most part, the beasts they faced in the mines had wandered in from the surface, but the beasts of the Underworld belonged to the darkness. These terrible monsters had probably never seen the light of the surface-world, and the army prayed for the sake of the civilizations there that they never would. The fighting skills demonstrated by these new opponents were much more advanced and deadly, revealing the ever-present struggle to survive in the harsh environment of the wild Underworld. They fought with new and always amazing forms of defense and weapons. They required constantly changing fighting tactics, and it was not hard to see how a couple of these terrible nightmares could have easily wiped out all of the peaceful, mining gnomes. The vast numbers of the army certainly aided them, and they left behind a trail of devastation to pay for their few casualties.

Perhaps the most striking feature of the Underworld was the brilliant, beautiful colors. They were surprisingly abundant for a lightless world. And there was the silence that was as complete and unending as the darkness itself.

In the flickering light of their smoky lanterns, they saw vibrant colors of indescribable beauty, whether they were in mushrooms, which grew to the size of trees, swirling in effervescent pools of mysterious waters, swelling up or oozing out of cracks in the form of mineral deposits, or blended into the flesh of the creatures they encountered, the strange hues were often like nothing they had ever seen on the surface. The most baffling part was that in this strange, eternal darkness, color could serve no purpose. It was as if nature decided to take advantage of this secret world to experiment. Most often, these experiments met with fantastic results.

As the use of color was unnecessary in the eternal darkness, the use of sound was of paramount importance. Gerrod noticed this early on, missing the familiar, comforting sounds of the birds singing and the wind blowing. Besides their incredible infravision abilities that these creatures needed to survive, the ability to detect any kind of sound gave them their only other outlet for exploring their world.

Most creatures moved effortlessly without a whisper of moving air. Their feet touched down in such ways as to only brush the ground, barely stirring dust. Gerrod was convinced that the constant clanking of armor and hushed whispers of two hundred men, which were deafening in the absoluteness of the Underworld, brought them far more attention from these always-hungry predators than they needed to have. Still, their most valiant efforts at silence failed miserably compared to the inherited abilities of the denizens of the darkness. For them, silence meant survival.

#  Chapter 18

# Falling Star

Ace's feet moved along with the practiced silence of a true master. His recent years of inactivity, living a life of honest comfort as the steward of Wefpub, hadn't done his skills any harm. He felt strange when he first stepped into the caverns, though; as he slipped back into the darkness.

He had called the darkness his friend for years, had found a certain comfort there. Now, with only Star by his side, he felt only loneliness. "Too many years with elves and humans," he muttered, trying to dismiss the strange feelings. Dwarves were typically solitary folk, not as social as the other, "softer" races. Strong and independent, they rarely turned to others for help or company. These many years past, Ace realized, had been an exception to his heritage.

Ace smiled a hidden smile. Growing up an orphan on the cruel streets of Oswegonia, his heritage was long lost now. But the stuff that makes a dwarf is not something that can be taught, but rather it comes from the heart. Just as stone carving had ignited in him, so too were the other natural abilities of a dwarf. In time, he had learned to develop these abilities into skills that had helped him to survive in the slums. And, whether he would ever learn the true nature of his heritage or not, he would always hear the quiet whisperings of his people.

Grateful not be alone in the darkness, Ace would have had difficulty admitting the company Star provided him. Now, hiding in the darkness, creeping between shadows and distancing himself from the army and his friends ahead, he longed for their conversation.

Star was, for a wolf, as good a companion to Ace as he was to Gerrod. While Ace didn't have the telepathic link to the canine the ranger had developed, he quickly came to understand the nuances of Star's movements through the darkened caves. Sharing a more limited sense of vision, but a far better sense of smell, Star was useful in helping Ace avoid the many monsters. While these monstrosities would gather to simply watch the likes of the army strangely pass through their territory, they would not think twice about snacking on dwarf meat.

Many times Star and Ace had encounters of their own, unable to call upon their friends for help. Through these experiences together, where they saved each other's lives countless times, Ace quickly came to trust in the value of Star's friendship.

When the army would stop to rest, Gerrod would lead Corinna and the girls out looking for Ace and Star. As they gathered around to share a meal, Ace would end up doing most of the talking. He excitedly relayed detailed stories of the strange and challenging encounters that they had that day. Most of the time, these encounters would take place not far behind them, but between Ace's skills, Star's stealth, and the creature's abilities for silence, they would not even know about them. Most of the time, Ace described how quickly, if not easily, these foul beasts had been slain, a tribute to Ace's great strength and Star's speed. While these fights were all potentially lethal, and Ace often had some scar or other to show for his efforts, he seemed to relish the excitement of the moments. This was reflected in his vivid animations as he reenacted most of the battles. Gerrod hadn't seen that old fire burn in Ace's eyes in years. He seemed much younger and more alive than he had in a long time. These adventures were doing Ace a world of good.

It had been a long time since Ace had seen much fighting. In his younger days, adventuring with Wefpub, he saw a fair bit more than his share, but Ace was no longer that young dwarf. Ace had seen, by his recollection, over a hundred and fifty winters that he remembered, and for a dwarf of his age, with gray streaks in his tired beard, he was doing quite well. The paunch that he had when Gerrod first found him in the inn was gone now, a product of the strict rationing and rigorous exercise. His muscled body had toned quite nicely, especially since entering the challenging caves. Overall, he showed no worse for wear for his experiences.

One day, when the army stopped, Gerrod and the girls doubled back more than usual to find their friends. They fanned out across the wider expanses of the strange complex of caves as they passed through, and held tighter formations in the narrower corridors that connected the caves. They were careful not to lose sight of each other, but even this was difficult amid the tall piles of rubble and stalactites that covered the cavern floors.

Gerrod and the women grew concerned when they couldn't find any sign of either Ace or Star. They walked quite a ways away from the army, too far for Ace and Star to still be following. They could have easily lost track of the army, had they decided to continue their march again. Still, they agreed, they had to find their friends.

Just then, a wall of searing pain washed over Gerrod. His weakened knees couldn't support him, and he fell to the cold floor of the cave. His head felt ready to burst open, and he felt life itself draining out of every muscle of his body. Gerrod suddenly lacked the energy and the will to go on, and in his heart, he knew what must have happened. The ranger found himself adrift in a world of confused fears and pains. There was a fire, an agony in his heart. He tried to clutch at his armored chest, but he couldn't move. It was as if his entire body was somewhere else, and it laid motionless on the cold stone floor.

Allison was the first to rush to his aid. She picked his head up and placed it in her lap. Her strong arms around him, her eyes looking into his. Gerrod could see her lips move, but he couldn't hear what she said. Her hands fell over his face, and he found himself staring into a flash of blinding, healing light. Moments passed before Gerrod became keenly aware of the warmth of his blood flowing once more.

Corinna was there. There was a pained, useless look of confusion and concern on her face. There was nothing she could do to help him, and she trusted in the faith she held in her dear friends to do what they could. She pleaded for them to help him, but he could tell from their reactions, sharing her concern, that there was little they could do. Slowly, Gerrod felt strength flow back into him, unhurriedly like molasses. After a few minutes, he realized that he would survive, but he also knew that he would never be the same again. Thanks to the healing of his friends, Gerrod found the strength to stand again, but he knew it wasn't nearly over yet.

Gerrod closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to make contact with Star, but he couldn't sense him within his mind. For the first time since he found him, that part of him was empty. He had always been able to contact Star without any problems, and this sudden failure confirmed his fears. He rushed into the darkness, fearing the worst for his friend as well as his companion. Gerrod had to find them.

In desperation, he broke the code of silence, and dared call out Ace's name. His own voice sounded alien to him, echoing throughout the chambers. Though he spoke softly, the echoes expanded his voice to fill the air. He drew startled, angry looks from the women, but they understood the concern on his face. They strained their ears for a response. After a few seconds of agonizing silence, Gerrod heard the distinct sounds of movement off in a secluded corner of the very chamber they were in. He motioned to the others, and they closed in, ready for anything that might have dared made the noise.

As they neared the location where Gerrod thought he had heard the noise, they drew their weapons and crept in the last few feet. Flicker ignited in its radiance. They knew the blaring light from his sword and the lanterns would make them an easy target, but they also hoped it would help to blind any monsters who might not have ever seen such light here in the Underworld.

In the dancing shadows of the flickering lanterns, hidden behind a mound of thick rock, they found the crumpled pile that was Ace and Star. Ace slumped against the cold wall of the cavern, his head bobbing on the edge of consciousness. An inanimate Star laid with his head nuzzled into Ace's lap, his thick, soft fur matted with blood.

"No!" the denial screamed through Gerrod's skull, stringing out into the eternal emptiness that he felt. If spoken out loud, the army would have heard that wailing, but it was so horrifying that they wouldn't have dared sent a scout to investigate. It was so full of sorrow and pain that it would have sent chills up the spines of those that had done this. At that moment, they would have rather wished they were dead than to have to endure that deafening death cry. Gerrod's eyes locked onto Star's. He stared into those blank orbs for several long moments, waiting, looking for a quiver, a blink. None.

Gerrod reached out for him, needed to feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, but he was met with the hardened muscles and bronze armor of Allison, who had dropped her false visage. Her dark brown eyes replaced those of Star's, and she held Gerrod from him in her secure hug. She squeezed him as if to try to pinch him off from the pain he felt inside. It didn't work.

Amanda rushed in to aide Ace, who had several terrible wounds of his own. He had lapsed unconscious again, his beard filled with a mixture of his and Star's blood. Even in this battle-torn state, lost to dreams of victories, he had refused to remove his protective arm from around Star. Corinna helped Amanda separate the two and get Ace out in the open where she could bandage his open wounds which still spurt out what blood he had left. His features were beaten almost to obscurity. Gerrod had never seen his friend in such a sorrowful state. He was bleeding from everywhere a man could bleed, and they all feared he would meet with the same fate Star had.

No longer with the strength to stand, Gerrod's legs buckled and he fell to his knees in fervent prayer to Mya. His own words were strengthened as he heard Allison's soft, sweet voice whispering her own sacred words to her god. A true believer in Mya all his life, he had been blessed by the grace of his god many times. He prayed now for the safety of Ace, and the return of his most dear companion, whom he had always considered to have been a gift from Mya to begin with. Gerrod prayed not so much with words but with an unstoppable stream of thoughts, memories, and tear filled pleas.

Once the bandages were in place, Amanda and Corinna joined Allison and Gerrod in their circle. They huddled together for strength, each holding onto the others. Ace was most dear to all of them, and Gerrod's great friends felt and shared in the grief that was his personal loss. In the time they had known him, Star had managed to endear himself with everyone. Amanda and Allison focused their prayers of healing on Ace, but his wounds were so critical that it would be a long time before he would even regain consciousness. Their prayers complete, they vowed to continue until Ace was back in shape.

Amanda was a powerful cleric, as was Allison. Before long, Corellon Larethian would answer the prayers of his highly regarded servants, and restore Ace to fitness.

However, this would do little for the fact that Star was dead. While Gerrod did not have the strength to stand, his will forced his body into motion. Allison pleaded him not to, but there were things that had to be done; preparations that had to be made. He cursed the Underworld, for he knew that a true and proper funeral pyre would not be possible to help send Star's spirit onto Mya. As the only alternative, he carried Star's crumpled body to a space they cleared between boulders, and placed him in a shallow grave. They covered him with smaller rocks. Gerrod felt badly about having to leave him here, in the forever darkness. His place was in the forest. He realized that even if they left then for the surface, it would be weeks before they arrived. Gerrod prayed for Star's understanding as Amanda said a blessing for him.

Exhausted from their prayers, and the long day of marching with the army, Gerrod ushered Amanda and Allison off to sleep in a small side cavern, not far from where they had buried Star. Corinna, who attempted to stay with the ranger, soon joined them. Preferring the comfort of solitude, he insisted she rest as well. He would not be sleeping for some time.

With Flicker shining as a solitary memorial flame over Star's grave, Gerrod sat the entire time guarding the entrance to the small corner of the cavern where his world had been shattered.

Again, in the infernal darkness of the Underworld, it was impossible to measure the passage of time, but after what must have been several hours, though it felt like days or weeks, Allison woke well rested. She immediately checked on Ace, as Gerrod had done several times. She initiated her prayers of healing over him, and many of the minor wounds could be seen closing up under the guidance of her god. These exhausted once more, she would not be able to do so again today, and until spending more time performing the rites and ceremonies required of her station.

Allison came to sit next to her friend at the edge of the vast cave beyond. She simply sat there, staring into the darkness in silence, mirroring what he had been doing all night. It was a reverent, respectful gesture, surprisingly understanding and tender for the woman of action. Gerrod had been studying the emptiness of the darkness for hours, refusing to allow his blinded eyes to slip into the infrared spectrum. He refused what warmth that sight offered, accepting stoically the nothingness beyond the constant flickering of his sword light. Allison seemed to be able to respect that and share that emptiness with him.

There had been times in his life when Gerrod had been in almost as bad shape as Ace, but he didn't know if he had ever felt such pain, before or since then, as he did in that dark solitude. The sense of loss overwhelmed him, and the emptiness that was within was complete. He had endured Corinna's leaving, bouncing back decidedly well after hearing that she wanted to go to Midkemia without him. While at the time he had felt that had devastated him, he was still not as completely destroyed as he was at that moment. While he loved Corinna very much, Star was a part of him, both spiritually and physically. That voice, that had filled a part of his mind he hadn't ever realized was empty, was now gone. It left a vacuum that he refused to allow to be filled, determining, rightfully so, that nothing ever could. Part of his very life force had died with Star, and as he felt his life light dim inside, he knew it would never again shine as bright.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, of course, but neither of them said a word or moved more than a muscle, so that when Amanda and Corinna awoke some time later, their meditation was complete. When Corinna emerged from the small room they had been sleeping in, Allison simply gave Gerrod a look and a smile. In that, he felt only care and love, not a hint of pity, which left him with that same dignity and respect she had kept with her silence. This whole experience served to show him a side of Allison that, especially as a young child, he had never even imagined existed.

"Good morning," Corinna began, more out of habit. Realizing there was certainly nothing "good" about it, she regretted it as soon as she had uttered it. In all likelihood, it wasn't even really morning. Nothing seemed right here in the wretched Underworld. "Amanda is up. She's tending to Ace."

Gerrod simply nodded in absent acknowledgement. Still not willing to break the silence, Allison did the same, inviting Corinna to a nearby seat. She accepted, joining their silence.

When Amanda came a while later, appearing drained by the powers of her healing, she announced that Ace would be stable enough to be moved that day.

Gerrod didn't want to leave, not ever. The thought of leaving that burial chamber and following the army farther into this unholy place did not appeal to him in the least. He didn't want to leave until he understood why, or even how his life-companion had died. There was obviously a bitter struggle, but they hadn't found any slain beasts. It was unlikely that Ace and Star would have gone down without a fight. His heart longed for revenge on those that would have wronged him so, and destroyed his friends. He was sure the others must have shared this sentiment, but he knew, as they did, that they must be moving on.

Allison fashioned a stretcher out of a blanket and the shafts of some broken spears they found, possibly from the battle with Ace and Star. They gently rolled Ace's battered and severely beaten body onto it, and with Allison on one end and Gerrod on the other, they headed back toward the army.

They were quite a distance behind the troops, and were lucky to be able to find them again, just as they were breaking up their own camp. If they had lost them in this vast complex of twisting tunnels and weaving caverns, they wouldn't likely ever find them again.

They followed behind the army at their secretively safe distance once more, hoping their false soldiers wouldn't be missed. They were forced to stay back. It wouldn't have been wise to allow the army to find them out of nowhere toting around an unconscious dwarf. Besides, drained from their efforts to heal Ace as quickly as possible, Amanda and Allison didn't dare ask Corellon for their guises back. They knew the limits of what they could expect from their god. One of the secrets of staying in good standing with Corellon was, they explained, not to get greedy for the gifts he gives you, but to make due whenever possible. The gods had been good to them so far, and they hoped to continue.

Several rest periods later, they were glad to hear the murmurs of a man waking from a long rest. Still too weak to move, Ace regained consciousness with a start. Excited eyes flew open and scanned around in a panic; perhaps reliving the final fleeting moments of his terrible battle. With grateful resignation, Ace calmed some and winced at the pain that flooded into him for the first time. "Just relax," Amanda comforted him, propping his head with a soft bedroll. "You've endured much, Ace of Wefpub. It's going to be a while more before you're up to moving about."

"Star!" Ace cried out, louder than he should.

"It's going to be all right, Ace. You're okay now," she assured him in soothing, whispered tones. Lacking the strength to argue, he closed his eyes and nodded back off for more rest.

It was not as long before Ace woke again, this time calmer and more resolute. "Star?" he asked, again his first concern. Amanda could tell by his sedate expression what Ace suspected.

"No," she confirmed his fears. She did not want to tell him, to upset him, but he had already figured as much, and he deserved the truth.

With his usual calm, Ace simply closed his eyes and let the tears flow from the puddles that gathered there. "I-I tried to get to him," he explained in pained breaths. "I'm sorry, Gerrod. By the gods, I tried...."

"I know you did, Ace. You did everything you could." Gerrod had to choke back his own tears. It troubled him to see Ace struggling so, but he welcomed the confirmation that Star had died valiantly. He had died fighting for his friend's life, and that was all Gerrod needed to know -- for now. "I know it wasn't your fault, Ace. You can tell us about it when you're feeling better."

Ace, a stubborn dwarf, would not accept being kept down for long, but as of yet, he had no choice about it.

"You listen to your healers, now Ace," Corinna encouraged. The feisty old dwarf glared at Amanda and Allison with a snarl.

Truly defeated, Ace was left alone to dwell in his own misery. He replayed the agonizing moments over and over in his head. "I tried to get to him," he repeated in his mind, trying to convince himself he had actually done all he could. He didn't know how he would face Gerrod; didn't know if he ever could.

It was still a few days later before he could find enough breath to talk freely. He had punctured a lung, among other things, but through the grace of the gods, he had been healed. He didn't care much for being carried around in the stretcher, and he let them know in clear tones. They took it all in stride, with a smile. The old Ace was coming back.

"Star and I were following behind," he started the anticipated narrative, "keeping to ourselves and the shadows as we had been all along. Star seemed to have sensed something, 'cause he stayed right close to me. He stopped, sniffing at the air, and I scanned around with me night sight, but I couldn't see anything unusual in the darkness. Nothing but rocks anyway, so I kept moving on, even though Star stopped.

"I should have listened to the wolf. He knew something weren't right, but I went on ahead, leaving him to his own business. I got out about fifty feet, when all of a sudden it was as if the rocks seemed to move. Before I knew it, about twenty beasts surrounded me. I could hear and feel them all around me, but I couldn't see them with my heat vision. They must have been cold-blooded and blended in with the heat of the rock, I figure.

"I tried to light a torch, but they were on me before I could move. I felt the sting of spears ripping into me from every direction. I swung around, me axe stretching to get a hold of at least one of them, but the cowards were still chucking their spears from too great a distance.

"I was still trying to light my torch when, in the spark of the flint, I caught a look at the beasts. They were huge, probably seven feet tall, and thick built. They looked like lizards, all scaly and stuff, but they were brown and gray, not green like you hear tell of the lizardmen of the Eternal Wetlands. Muscles bulged from their sturdy frames, and they carried stone axes, too. I could hear them talking in throaty gurgles.

"When they closed in on me, I started to smell what Star must have been noticing. The most horrendous stench you've ever laid nose to came from the filthy beasts. Now you know I'm not one to be turned weak from a little bit of stink, but this was so bad that even I began to wretch.

"I lost it at that point. Too busy gagging on vomit and their foul odor, I couldn't defend myself. Stone axes and sharp claws lit into me at every turn. They had me surrounded, and so disoriented, I couldn't have run. Even though they out-numbered me so, they weren't about to cut me any slack. They seemed to enjoy just taking swats at me.

"Dazed by their attacks, I lost grip on me axe. I remember stumbling about, being hit and batted about by those things like I was a rag doll. I never felt so frustrated and mad in my life. I was helpless to defend myself, and they wouldn't let up long enough for me to regain my head.

"Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red heat, as Star came charging in. He leapt atop one of them and had him dead before they crashed to the ground. He had at three or four others, going for arms, legs, throats, whatever he could get those nasty fangs into. You should have seen him go at them.

"I was still knocking around, down on me knees by then. I didn't even have the strength left in me to stand any more, and I could feel I had blood coming out everywhere. I knew I wasn't for long. I watched Star through eyes that filled with blood faster than I could wipe them out. I tried, crawling on my hands and knees, but I couldn't get to him.

"Stone axes and sharp claws slashed into Star's gray fur, and soon his blood was splattering as well as mine, if not worse. It seemed that those monsters were even stinking more, if possible, as they desperately tried to cut down that wolf. They were clearly upset that he was hurting them so bad. Star really had them going.

"Through it all, Star refused to yelp or acknowledge the pain of his wounds. He wouldn't slow, and he gave them more than their due. Realizing they weren't fairing well against the wolf, they made their retreat. By then, Star had taken too much to be able to give them chase. Just for good measure, they all stomped on me or gave me one last slash with their claws on their way out. While I tried to fight against the pain, the loss of blood must have been too much, because I passed out. I was left for dead.

"Star must have dragged my limp body into that corner and hid me there. He saved my life, I know that for sure. These were foul beasts, Gerrod, and you should be proud of the way he took after them. I've never seen such a vicious fight or such cruel beasts. If only I'd paid more credit to Star in the first place --"

"Sounds like they were in for you, either way," Corinna argued against Ace's shame. "Either way they would have had the jump on you."

"You were greatly out-numbered, an impossible fight," Allison agreed.

"Most vile evil, to be sure," Mandy added her support.

"There wasn't anything you could have done, Ace," Gerrod agreed. "Star helped you on his own right. He died defending his friend against the evil of the world. That's the way it should be, the way I hope to die."

Gerrod felt everyone turn and look at him in concern.

"But not for a long time," he assured them. "There's still too much evil left in this world. I'm far from done with this place yet," he vowed, sending smiles across his friends. Even Ace managed a heart-felt chuckle, wincing at the pain it brought.

Ace's complete recovery was a slow one, and he took care to complain the whole time, though they knew he was grateful. Personally, Gerrod suspected Ace even started to enjoy his newfound authority. He ordered them around from his place on the stretcher like a king ordering his peasants from his throne. He enjoyed their company too, after such a long time being forced to walk alone in the dark.

There were many times that a tear would form in the corner of Gerrod's eye for his lost companion. At night, whenever he heard the wind blow through the treetops, if he listened just hard enough, he could still hear Star's voice talking to him; and that place in his mind where he once was, was not so empty. Gerrod would always miss Star, but as long as the wind blew, he knew his friend would never be far away.

#  Chapter 19

# The Jaws of Death Itself

Even though the King's Guard was well stocked, and despite the careful rationings they had enforced with cruel justice, the duration of the trip into the seemingly endless underground caverns of the Underworld eventually drained the army of their supplies. What meat was left quickly turned bad in the damp air of the caverns. The life-giving, pure water began to run low as well. It eventually occurred to even the most dim-witted of foot soldiers, that with what rations they had left, they would never have enough to see them to the light of day again. They had long since passed the point of no return.

Still, the situation being what it was, LaBairne curiously refused to turn back, as if he was a sea captain trying to ride out a storm. It seemed he had some sort of idea that there would be food and fresh supplies at where ever they were headed, and that everything would be all right and glorious once they got there.

The army of soldiers following him, however, did not share in his undying optimism. LaBairne either had more knowledge of the destination than he was revealing, the faith of a disciple of a powerful god, or the stubborn will of an ox, but he was unwilling to admit the error of this journey. Everyone hoped beyond hope that it was the first. They were not ready to die for this man's ignorance.

Once the last of the food was gone, and the men grew hungry enough for desperation, there were many volunteers to test the mushrooms. As the only readily available source of food, they had to be careful that they were not going to be poisonous to eat. They tried the kinds they saw being eaten most commonly by the creatures of the Underworld. They prayed that there were enough similarities between these creatures and themselves to allow the men to eat the same stuff. While some of the mushrooms didn't prove poisonous, they did leave them with strange, waking dreams, and visions most horrifying. Eventually, the army learned of the more common, safer mushrooms to eat, though at the expense of many men. They either left in screaming fits of madness, or passed out in the wake-less sleep of death.

The water posed a similar problem. Even more vital than food, they needed a large amount to keep the army going. Every time they came upon a stream, there was always at least one who was thirsty enough to jump in and try its palpability, even if it didn't remotely resemble anything edible. Even these horrible consequences proved a far less painful death than dehydration or starvation. To the starving men of the King's Guard, this seemed more honorable -- even among these men, so lacking in honor and pride.

For the members of Wefpub, however, it was easy for Amanda to create a suitable meal of food and water out of nothing but prayers. However, they couldn't let anyone else know of their sacred supply for fear that Amanda would be destroyed in their attempt to feed all of these starving men. Besides, Amanda assured them, a feast that size was even above her considerable ability. They also still feared that their sudden introduction as spies who had been following the army would not be so very well accepted. So, during their many rest periods, they would quietly dine in secret and try not to think about the men they were forced to let starve.

Quite understandably, the morale of the men plunged to an all-time low. Even their sworn duty to the King's Guard was not enough to keep them from doubting their leader, LaBairne. They had been marching for the gods-know-how-long without any supplies and, with the constant fatigue from their continued forced march, the men lost all desire to continue in this insanity. To top this all off, they still ran into even more fierce and cruel monsters. With the mounting loss of troops, and lacking the strength or the will to fight any more, the chances of their survival looked most grim.

Amid a wash of gossip, and concern for the obsessive nature of LaBairne's leadership, the men began demanding a change in rank. Many of the younger soldiers were quick to back the much younger and stronger Dougherty as being a better-suited leader. As LaBairne's first officer, he had almost as many years in the Guard as LaBairne, though he had far fewer battle scars to prove it. Much of his military career had been spent behind a desk, laboriously doing the paperwork required by the king, which LaBairne had managed to shovel off as being his first officer's responsibility. Still, in the field, Dougherty held a more charismatic control over the army than the harsher LaBairne was ever able to master any more. Even now, while Dougherty echoed the men's pleas for rest and consideration, LaBairne refused to listen to the complaints of the "tender-footed, young recruits."

Inevitably, under the growing pressure of many of his men, Dougherty decided to mutiny against LaBairne, taking a large group of compatriots with him. They had become fed up with this undying faith in the merciless flag. It still pointed deeper and deeper into the cavern complex of the Underworld.

"If you leave, I shall kill you," LaBairne threatened with crazed eyes.

"If we do not leave," Dougherty replied, "you will surely kill us with this senseless crusade of yours. We should have turned back a long time ago, LaBairne, before the food and water ran out."

"But the crates --" LaBairne argued helplessly, "they have to be delivered. By the oath of the King's Guard, they shall be delivered!" LaBairne's voice raised into a shout of conviction that echoed all the way back to where the members of Wefpub watched this conflict of power. "We are charged, by King Lonnequist himself, to deliver these crates. As members of the King's Guard, we are sworn by our lives to follow the orders of the king and his court. With all that I honor, I intend to do as I have sworn."

"If you choose to continue this fool's errand, then you will prove only that you are a great and honorable fool. The King's Guard is no more, LaBairne. We have been betrayed by our own king, sent to our deaths on a mission he knew we could not complete. It was clearly his intention that we die down here in this hell. I find no honor in that." Dougherty, insulted by the questioning of his honor, a quality he had once revered but now felt betrayed by, drew his sword, and held it out to LaBairne's throat. "Complete your mission of honor if you wish. You do so without us."

LaBairne, himself so frazzled and confused, was unable to respond. He stood there, silently watching his dreams of all that he had ever stood for, flowing from him like the blood that flowed from his shocked face. In his younger days, he would have sliced down a man for such insults, but he suddenly felt the weight of his age come crashing down upon him. He was a million years old. While a part of him wished to kill the young Dougherty for his disrespect, a part of him wished he could leave this place with him. He knew it was as foolish to continue as it was to try to escape the tunnels now, but his pride was all he had left. The darkness, the hunger, the pain, the silence, could not take that from him. The pride of the King's Guard, though it had been dead for a very long time, was all that kept LaBairne alive.

Dougherty gathered up the men under his influence and took off down a side tunnel. They bravely struck out on their own, knowing that they could not fare any worse than they would under the leadership of this mad man, LaBairne. With them, too, they managed to take most of the few lamps that had any oil left in them at all.

The members of Wefpub knew that what ever it was they were looking for would be with LaBairne and where ever that mysterious flag was pointing to. So, sadly, they watched as Dougherty and his men left, cursing the Guard and LaBairne all the way into the darkness.

Most of the men that remained with LaBairne were the older men of the Guard. They respected their leader above all else. They were the few that shared his pride in honor and duty. They stayed with LaBairne, even though they knew that they would die, because of this respect for him and the Guard. And even though they were the higher in ranked and more experienced officers of the army, their diminished numbers would certainly be their defeat.

It was not much longer before the last of LaBairne's lanterns died out. While LaBairne ordered that torches be made of bits of clothing tied onto swords, these barely gave off enough light to see the ground, and they too quickly burned out.

While the party, between the blaze of Flicker and Corinna's magical spells, could have easily lit the way, they still needed to stay in hiding. They decided to only resort to these measures to aid their own defense. It was a purely selfish decision, one none of them were comfortable with, but one forced upon them by the situation at hand.

Most of the time they stumbled on, into the darkness, having to feel their way across the treacherous terrain of the caves. The tunnels above, if they had been the famous Thraxton Mines, had come and gone with nothing to show but blisters on their feet. While they had actually only traveled through a small portion of the outermost tunnels of the complex, there certainly didn't seem to be any riches to be had. Now, in their blinded state, weeks or maybe even months away from the surface, without food or water, their situation seemed most grim.

After several rest periods worth of the frustrating movements through the rock strewn caverns, when things could not have seemed to get much worse, the infernal silence that they had gotten so used to was shattered by the undeniable screams of men. The men entered the same cavern LaBairne was in from the right, the direction Dougherty had taken his lot.

Within seconds, the flashes of lantern-light streaked into the cavern, waving wildly as their bearers ran at full speed toward LaBairne's army. Their swords, for those who still held them, were drawn, and in a defensive reflex, LaBairne drew his as well. Perhaps it was Dougherty's plan to attack LaBairne's group for whatever they felt they may have of value. Perhaps they had eaten mushrooms that had driven them all mad. In any case, their reflexes left little to chance.

The first man to enter made his way, tripping over his own feet as much as the rocks, to LaBairne. Though he held his sword at the ready, the Captain made no move against the obviously exhausted warrior. "Dougherty's dead," he spurted out, panting heavily between panicked gasps. "Too many, terrible weapons \-- poison," he stuttered, as if to explain the pain that racked across his face. His body, pushed beyond ability, collapsed onto the floor. Protruding from his back were what looked like several, miniature, crossbow bolts.

LaBairne, the seasoned veteran he was, strategically ordered his beleaguered troops into defensive positions behind what cover they could find. Instinctively, they scrambled behind boulders and stalactites, huddling like animals in their fear and pain, hugging close the comfort of the cold stone barriers. There they hid while the rest of the ill-fated followers of Dougherty stumbled into the room, seeking refuge from the terror that followed.

A brilliant blast of light exploded into the cavern with such force, that Gerrod fully expected the ceiling of the vaulted chamber to come down in a pile of rubble and debris from the explosion, but for all the light, there was not a sound. Their eyes, which had been trying to adjust to the complete absence of light, were blinded by this sudden intrusion and its cold harshness. Yet as the light slowly evolved into a purple hue, it became soft and warm, sending out confusing signals of friendship and compassion. Gerrod's eyes had never witnessed such a vibrant and rich shade of purple before, or since his departure from the Underworld.

This comforting purple light flooded into the chamber, illuminating it fully, allowing them to get their first glimpse at the room. The chamber was large, even by Underworld standards, measuring easily a couple hundred yards in either direction. The wall opposite the lighted entrance, along which the army was hiding, had an elevated ridge running along its length. There was the entrance at one end, which they had used, and an exit at the other, which they were headed for. There was little but empty granite wall behind the army to retreat back to. An evenly spaced line of uniform stalactites, which gave Gerrod the uncomfortable impression of columns in a cathedral, lined along this elevated trail, too conveniently, to be used as cover for the shocked troops.

Across the empty, descending floor of the chamber, was the other entrance, which had the purple light flooding in. The light skidded across the floor of the cavern, being thrown up into the darkest of shadow whenever it struck the slightest stone. Purple and blackness.

Four large creatures, grotesque perversions of elves and spiders, rushed into the small opening after the last of the fleeing troops. Instead of pressing the pursuit, they took flanking positions around the opening of the tunnel the men had just run from. Their elven bodies were badly deformed, and black as pitch. Patches of long, straggly hair, white as new fallen snow, topped their heads. Bright red, infravision eyes shown into the cave, and scanned the tactics of the situation. Their large, bloated bodies, below the tortured torsos, were that of giant spiders, with eight thick legs protruding out the sides of a large, rounded abdomen. Most of the twisted creatures sported swords or clubs. All held small crossbows. Held in a single hand, each bow was outfitted to hold two of the miniature bolts. If what the doomed soldier had said proved true, these bolts held a deadly poison.

Behind these four beasts filed at least two-dozen elves, their skin just as solid black and hair just as shocking white, as that of the spider-creatures. These were clearly males, and were all dressed in finely crafted mesh armor, almost as impressive as the Guard's own bronze plate. Each warrior wielded two swords, and as they made their way out to either side of the entrance, they made for an impressive army of their own. There was no doubt that these men were fine masters of the fighting arts. With their obvious mastery of dual-weaponed combat, they would have been a strong match against the beleaguered, starving remnants of the King's Guard.

As a finale of this impressive show of force, which was undoubtedly carefully orchestrated to intimidate the startled troops, the last to step through the cavern entrance were five, black-skinned female elves, all dressed in lavish purple and black robes. "Evil priestesses," Amanda whispered, "I'd recognize them anywhere."

"Who are they-" Gerrod asked. Amanda responded with a shrug, seemingly captivated by the drama of the spectacle.

As the center of the five females stepped forward, it was clear she did not belong with the rest of the group. Her skin was light colored, as fair as Amanda or Allison's, and her long hair was dark brown, not white. Perhaps, they considered, this more normal looking elf was simply a guise to help put them at ease. No one was certain what to make of this unexpected stranger.

"Commander LaBairne," the woman called out in a clear voice, speaking the words in the common tongue of Oswegonia. LaBairne forced his eyes to focus and returned her stare as if recognizing her for the first time.

After studying the locations of the entrenched troops a moment, she raised a pointing finger and illuminated LaBairne and the staff he clutched in a glowing, purple light. The man was startled, but was quick to realize that the fiery flames, that licked the length of his entire body, did not burn him.

"I see that you brought the staff. I trust it served you well," the woman noted in a superior tone, condescending to the commander of the King's Guard. He simply hung his head in submission.

"As you commanded, Rai'dley." He barely dared to look up at her when he responded to her. This was very unusual for LaBairne, usually so bold in his words and his actions.

Ace looked at Gerrod doubtfully, not liking the turn in events.

Corinna stared on intently. Rai'dley's appearance intrigued her, and renewed her lost hope that all of this wasn't for naught.

"I'm glad you made it," Rai'dley's words dripping with sarcasm. "Not too many casualties, I hope." She scanned down the line of columns as if she could see the men hiding there behind, assessing the numbers herself.

"Too many," LaBairne responded, almost to himself, as he looked down at the corpse of the man who had fallen at his feet. His body grew cold on the stone floor of the cave right before his eyes.

"It seems that my companions were a bit upset to meet with such a hostile greeting. They didn't take well to being challenged. I would recommend that you not make that same mistake. My association with them is not as highly valued as is their lust for the blood of surface-worlders. I assure you, as long as you do not provoke them, they can be perfectly safe. You may even find them hospitable hosts."

"So who are they, and what do you have to do with them?" LaBairne dared ask, still not willing to look at the woman he spoke to.

"Friends of mine, as they will be of yours too, I'm sure. Their city is not far from here. I suggest we go there now and discuss matters there in the comforts of good food and drink. You must be hungry and tired from your long journey. The rest will do you well."

"I've brought the crates," LaBairne offered, hoping to gain some sort of appreciation for the struggle they had endured. It had seemed that these all-important crates had lost their importance, now that the army was here.

"As I knew you would. Excellent. Please, bring them along to the city, will you?"

"Why should we follow you?" LaBairne asked, though he was very tempted by the generous offers of food. Something didn't seem right to him, though he had few ideas of how this reception was supposed to go. He looked at the lines of warriors standing ready behind her uneasily.

"I don't see where you really have much choice at this point. You would never get out of this very chamber alive, otherwise. Come now, be reasonable," she encouraged as if talking with a child. "I haven't brought you all the way down here to kill you all off. I could have done that back in Oswegonia, had I wanted."

Rai'dley paused a moment, giving LaBairne time to ponder his options. Finding them as limited as she had said, he motioned his troops into formation. The men, urged on by the promise of food, gave no arguments. Half of the spider-beasts went ahead, following the five women, and half the army of males. The rest of the dark entourage fell in behind the last members of the King's Guard as they escorted them through the now dark tunnel entrance, into the jaws of death itself.

Wefpub followed this parade down the corridor, doubling their usual distance behind. By the brightness of those red eyes that had pierced into the darkness of the meeting chamber, it appeared as though these dark elves had excellent infravision, and they would easily spot the small group as they made their way after them. They tried to stay to the sides of the rough-hewn tunnel walls, though this would be little help if the dark elves were watching for them. They prayed they wouldn't be, though a part of them knew these people were more careful than that. This was certainly not the King's Guard they were following now.

# 

#  Chapter 20

# Eye of the Storm

The corridor they traveled down, twisting with complex turns, had been carved from the solid, cold rock. The length of it was littered with swords, lanterns, and dead soldiers, all discarded by Dougherty's men in their desperate attempt to flee the same company of dark elves Wefpub now trailed. In a dim illumination from Flicker, they scanned the carnage that had transpired in these halls. The features of the corpses were frozen, contorted as by the forces of absolute fear. Limbs sat awkwardly askew in the disarray that is death, bodies hopelessly clamoring over one another in a savage attempt to escape. In the stillness that survived, they could only imagine what horrors served as the last of their sights. Even seasoned adventurers like they could not help but feel for these lost men. The brutality and barbarity of the attacks that had overcome these men in red-crescent helms sent lumps to their throats.

Amanda insisted on taking the time to bless each dead man's corpse, praying to send their souls to their gods.

When they came to a side tunnel, it was clear that this was where Dougherty first met with the dark elves. Many bodies, mostly of the King's Guard, filled the intersection. There were also a few bodies of dark elves, pushed aside by their own people. Despite what they must have done in their part of this battle, and despite their being left here by their own kind, Amanda blessed them all and sent the elves' spirits to Corellon Larethian, "God of all elves," she was quick to remind them.

While Amanda tended to their souls, Ace helped himself to whatever they may have been carrying. He disrespectfully rifled through pockets and removed purses to be gone through later. He found a great amount of jewelry and small weapons, including a few of the small crossbows and many different daggers. The fine armor and razor-sharp swords must have been quite common among these people, as Ace managed to collect quite a few of these as well. They simply laid wherever they landed.

Just for fun, Ace slipped on one of the chain mesh tops, and found it amazingly light and comfortable. While he would normally shun the bulk of chain mail, he decided to keep this souvenir. The top was long, of course, covering down to his knees, but it didn't get in his way. Each link of the armor was finely crafted and wrapped in soft leather, so that the whole garment didn't make any noise.

Ace picked up a couple of daggers and slid them into sheaths built right into the armor. Most of the hilts of the swords and daggers were ornately decorated with bizarre shapes and unusual beasts. There were many depictions of spiders, which seemed to be a common theme for them, and snakes, which sent chills up Gerrod's spine. (If there was only one animal he hated in this world, it had to be snakes.) The blades of the weapons were of a strange, bluish steel; unlike anything they had ever seen. As suspected, these blades had also been dipped in poison, and Ace was very careful not to so much as nick himself on the extra-sharp edges.

Large, nine-foot long worms were already devouring some of the bodies. They were aggressive creatures, and with the many antennae flailing from their heads, they gave them a lot of room and stayed away from those bodies they laid claim to, lest they be the next dead bodies they fed on. These creatures seemed to walk on the ceiling and walls as easily as the floor. Allison kept watch over the ceiling above to keep them from jumping down on top of them. There was no way of telling how long they'd be satisfied to feed off of the corpses they had, before looking at them for more.

"Let's get going," Gerrod urged Amanda on. "I don't think it's such a good idea to stick around here much longer than need be." Even as he spoke, more of the things padded their way up the ceiling of the side corridor toward them.

Corinna was careful to notice that the side corridor had been sealed off, after Dougherty and his men had battled, with a wall of stone. This impressive new wall had been magically fashioned, and went almost all the way to the top of the twenty-foot tall corridor, leaving just enough space for the terrible worms to get through. "They must not have wanted anyone to escape back that way," Corinna observed.

Without the need for further convincing, they gathered what they needed and continued their chase toward the dark elven city.

While the dark elven city promised not to be far away, their escort hurried the troops along at a swift pace. This travel was made longer by their nervous anticipation.

There had always been stories of a race of elves with the black skin of evil, known as the drow. According to the tales, they occasionally came out of their deep holes in the ground, on moonless nights, to steal away elven children. They would take these children back down into the darkness where they devised many cruel tortures. This ancient story was often used to scare children into behaving, but by the looks of the cruel weapons they had found already, they began to believe that this fable may have more truth to it than they cared to believe, as many fables do. Little was actually known about the drow, but all of it was evil.

Gerrod kept the undying light from Flicker subdued, just bright enough for them to travel at a normal, slow speed. They traveled silently, as they had come to do so naturally. Each of them was lost in their own world of thought. The scenes of the terrible battle against the drow plagued their imaginations, and the shadows of the flickering light played cruel tricks on their minds. The strange shadow creatures that leapt out at them from every corner and crevice reminded Gerrod sorely of when they first entered the caves. Their fears were, as they had been then, their worst enemy. Their nerves were kept so on edge by these creatures of shadow-stuff, that when a real danger did come upon them, they weren't able to react as they could have; or as they should have.

The magical light given off by Gerrod's sword was squelched out, and they barely had time to even realize the danger. The sudden darkness from the magical spells shut out even their infravision. They never had a chance to see the enemies as they stepped out of the shadows and their nightmares, to strike them down from behind. Gerrod barely remembered the stinging burn of a small crossbow bolt slicing its way in behind his left knee, a skull shaking blow to the back of the head, and the cold stone catching his falling face. The blackness of the magical spells was replaced by the even darker absolute emptiness of unconsciousness.

And so it came that their first views of Mezzo'Dakmania were of nothing but a dark, hollow dungeon. That is where Gerrod awoke, an awakening that came to his surprise. He'd given himself up for dead after feeling the poison work its way through his travel-weary mind. But instead of being left for carrion worm food, they had been taken prisoner. An antidote to the poison had been given to them.

Gerrod awoke with a bad headache and pains in every part of his body as if he had been severely beaten. He opened his eyes, and when he couldn't see anything, he feared he may have been blinded. He was against a wall, where he apparently hung from wrist irons. A warm stream of blood dripped down to his elbows from his bleeding wrists. He forced his resistant legs to stand up, relieving the strain on his arms. The chains rattled in the echoing emptiness of a fairly large room. He had come accustomed to judging the size of chambers by the echoes of sound in the forever darkness of the Underworld.

Gerrod felt the wall behind him, and it appeared to be rounded, as a pillar of some sort. It extended far above his reach, and to either side, probably ten feet round and stretching to the ceiling, some fifteen feet high here. A kick of his numb legs revealed that they too had been fastened to the pillar by ankle irons. There was no sign of his backpack or sword, of course. It looked like he was here to stay.

Alerted by the clanging of chains, Gerrod heard the gruff greetings of Ace, "That you, boy?"

"It's me, Ace." The words burned in his chest. "Where are Corinna and the others?"

"Must be hanging around here somewhere," he jested, bringing fits of coughing that gave Gerrod images of how badly he had been beaten as well.

As Gerrod's mind began to clear of fog, he shifted into his night sight, and scanned the range of what he could see. The room was large, as he had guessed, and everything was pretty much the same shade of red, or the same temperature. Nothing had been moved in here in quite a while. There were few details available to him. Gerrod couldn't see anything more than a hand, chained to the wall as his were, in the direction of Ace. He too was chained to the pillar, just out of reach to the left. Gerrod scanned the other side to see the dim light of the hand of a barely conscious person, who he guessed was a member of Wefpub. Her body temperature revealed one who was not awake to the world, and she rested peacefully in her unconscious state. All the better for her.

Where there was neither sight nor sound, there were aromas. The damp, warm air was filled with the scents of a million different things, none of them pleasant. Above all else was the familiar, musty smell of the caverns, but it was mixed in with something else. Gerrod's dizzy mind swirled as he pushed it to sample the stale air and compare it to a lifetime of experience in order to identify what it was. A sickening feeling spread over him as he finally came to realize what it was he had been thinking of. The air had the distinctive stench of rotting flesh. This did not bode well.

"Ace, can you get out?" he inquired, as much to see if his friend was still with him as for any other reason.

"Strung up tight, boy. Me picks be gone, too." His voice had a resigned tone to it Gerrod didn't like. Ace normally had an unbeatable spirit. But, with all he had been through, even this had been beaten out of him. "Me thinks I'm getting too old for this, Gerrod."

"Nonsense, dear friend. The fates challenge us, that is all." Gerrod knew he could be of little comfort.

It was difficult to say how long they were left in there; hours, days -- who knows? During that time, Gerrod feared for Corinna, or whoever it was on the other side of him, since they had not stirred. Gerrod wondered where the King's Guard was, and whether they had been getting the same treatment. He doubted that. They weren't expected, welcomed visitors to the Underworld as the army had been. The King's Guard had been brought down here for a reason, and as extra baggage, Wefpub was to be dealt with far differently. It couldn't be expected to be much better than this, but Gerrod's nightmares proved it could be far worse.

And, if the King's Guard was brought down there for a reason, what was it? Gerrod tried to focus his wavering mind on something constructive. Certainly they had not been brought to simply carry those crates. Mages had better, less risky ways to move important items, Corinna had convinced them of that. What had Rai'dley and these dark elves wanted with them? How was Rai'dley connected to this ancient evil? Is this where Rai'dley had come from; was she one of them in disguise? Too many questions, and not enough answers. Gerrod knew he'd never get his answers while he was chained up here like a misbehaved pet.

One final question, what did they plan to do with Wefpub? He had heard the tales of their delight at torture, and their sacrifices of surface-worlders to their evil goddess. Was this what was to become of Wefpub? He hated the thought of being goddess fodder, and decided that he would fight with all his might, if given the chance. He would not be a willing victim of these cruel and evil people. They would have to prove their eagerness to destroy him with a fight. They would give him that much.

The forever silence was ripped by a sound at the far end of the chamber -- voices and footsteps. Though he couldn't see in that direction, he strained to listen, soaking in every sound like it was gold. They had come for them at last, and he would be ready.

The two men that entered carried with them an eerie torch. The light that came from it barely did an adequate job at lighting up the room. The flames burned purple, lapping slowly and deliberately up the end of the torch like waves coming to a shore. He could feel no heat from the flames, and realized it to be a magical fire. As he was convinced these people must be able to move about in the pure darkness of their evil without the aid of any light, Gerrod was certain these torches were used for their benefit.

Smiles spread across the two evil drow males as they examined Ace and Gerrod. One lifted Gerrod's head forcibly, and he returned by spitting in his face. He didn't know why he did it, but he knew he would pay for it as soon as he did. In a surprisingly quick blur of movement, the guard produced a short, stout club, and thrashed Gerrod across his already sore ribs. He then drove its dull end up into his abdomen so he couldn't breathe. His smile had turned to a glaring sneer, and Gerrod knew some greater force than he was keeping the man from killing him right there.

Ace offered no resistance to their prodding, and whether he was alert or not, Gerrod considered his more passive approach the better. He hung as limply as Gerrod had when he first awoke, and there was no sign of life in him. The male examining him slapped his flopping head back and forth a few times, but left him to his misery.

Noticing the look in the eye of his partner, and the club pressed under Gerrod's ribs, he sent him a warning glare. Reluctantly, the guard withdrew the stick from Gerrod's stomach, sending him gasping for air. With a final warning stare at Gerrod, the guard moved on to other business.

Gerrod didn't know who it was next to him on the other side. He had assumed it was one of the girls, but in the new, dim light, he saw that it was another drow that they removed from his shackles.

This drow wore no fancy armor nor brandished any fancy weapons. He had been stripped down to only a torn pair of britches, which looked to have been of fine material before being shredded to rags. These were coated in so much blood and dirt, that their original color could not be identified. His exposed upper body proved strong, with muscles rippling, even though he was no longer able to flex a single one of them. His pitch-black skin shown many light gray wounds, which showed signs of healing. Still, the signs of abuse were great, and even now he didn't appear conscious while they dragged him away from the wall.

Gerrod noticed a most unusual collar fastened about the prisoner's neck. It was of the same, bluish-gray metal as the swords and daggers Ace had found. The entire surface was filled with many intricately carved runes. Gerrod recognized many of the carvings to be symbols of magic, though he couldn't begin to guess as to their purpose or meaning. In the center of the front, centered on the man's throat, was set a large, oval black onyx stone of considerable size.

Despite their jabs and encouragements to wake and walk on his own, the guards ended up dragging the unconscious man off, leaving the torch for Ace and Gerrod's use. While they dragged him backwards by his massive shoulders, his bobbing head flashed a wide grin. He too, it seemed, had a strong spirit.

It seemed like an eternity while the other prisoner was gone. The torch, hanging in a wall sconce, answered some questions, but raised many others.

From what Gerrod could see of the room, it was square, block-cut design. The only door was to his left. By twisting his neck, he could see them enter and exit, but Ace faced the portal from his angle on the pillar. The thick, lone pillar stood in the center of the room, which other than a large table pushed next to the wall between the two sconces, appeared to be the only furniture in the room. There was plenty of space for the hanging of other prisoners. Around the outside walls, empty shackles were eager for company, but within his range of sight Gerrod couldn't see any of the females of their party.

"Ace. Ace?" he beckoned, hoping his unconscious appearance had been a ploy.

"Ya' gotta learn to choose your battles, boy." came his gruff voice. "Way I see it, we ain't in much a fighting position. Wait until the odds are better in our favor. The long shot'll get you no where."

"So it would seem," Gerrod admitted, accepting his words of wisdom. He was just glad to hear his voice again.

"There's a light on in here now," he encouraged his friend, though he knew he'd take offense to its magical origin. "Can you see anyone else in the room?"

"'Fraid not. Looks like we're alone. Not much over here but a door on the other side." He sounded discouraged, knowing what Gerrod was hinting at.

So the women had been taken away separately. Great. Gerrod only hoped that meant they received better treatment than they had, not worse. The ranger had seen what savage things the gnolls and ogres did with their captive females, and he struggled to put those images out of his mind. That could not be happening to his friends. Gerrod prayed to Mya that these drow were, as evil as they were, more civilized than that.

Gerrod examined the shackles that bound his hands and feet more closely in the new light. To his horror, they were shaped in the form of snakes wrapped around his wrists. Despite their iron-gray steel color, their sharpened fangs bore down on him, digging in as if in a vicious bite. The vision made him dizzy, and he suddenly felt faint. Had they used some sort of mental probe to determine what it was that he feared most so they could use it against him? Gerrod quickly strained to see the other shackles that hung to his right, where the drow had been removed, and noticed the same, snake-shaped devices hanging there. He found little comfort in this.

"So what do you remember?" he asked Ace. "I didn't even see them coming for us." At least they could compare notes. He was grateful just to have Ace's company in this dreadful place.

"Took me from behind, the cowards," he muttered. "Must be strong stuff in them there darts of theirs. Took me out cold, and you know I'm tough against juices like that." He sounded disappointed in himself, and Gerrod was quick to let him know there wasn't anything any of them could have done. He vaguely remembered seeing Corinna going down, and was certain the others fell just as quickly.

They continued their conversation for a long time, just to keep each other alert against the lingering, sleepy effects of their poison. When they heard noises at the door, they both dropped back into feigned sleep.

Through peeking eyelids, when he didn't think they were watching, Gerrod saw the same two drow still dragging their victim. He still appeared to be unconscious, though after viewing several new, terrible wounds, the ranger questioned whether this was an act. These new wounds were severe. Though they left several large, grotesque scars, these appeared to have already been healed over with fresh new, gray skin. This made little sense to him, and made him wonder what arcane device they might have used to create wounds such as these.

The two guards dutifully returned the beaten man to his shackles on the pillar, and quickly left without saying a word or even looking at Gerrod. He thought he could see, at the edges of their armor, fresh marks similar to those the prisoner had received. But if they were, they were not near as severe though they still looked quite painful. They wore them stoically, none-the-less, and again left without taking the torch.

Once he was sure that the guards had left them, Gerrod called out, "Dak'gnu!" which meant "Dark One" in elven. He felt no movement, nor heard any response, so he called it out again, "Dak'gnu!"

"Surface-worlder," came a spitting reply in a thick, ancient accent that Gerrod had heard only through Corinna's research. His words were only vaguely recognizable as the elven language he knew, but he was glad to be able to understand him.

"Are you all right?" Gerrod asked, trying to copy the archaic dialect.

"No worry for I, Surface-worlder. I survive," he replied. At first, with the accent, Gerrod thought he sounded stoic, but he realized he was strangely dismayed by his certainty. "No talk surface-worlders," he said warningly.

"And I've never talked with an Underworlder before, either," Gerrod came back, undauntedly. "My name is Gerrod. Gerrod of Oswegonia," he introduced himself more formally. Unused to social occasions, the introduction sounded as awkward as the silence that it gained him. After a few moments of this silence, which made him wonder if the dark elf had understood him at all, he asked him his name.

"I am Dai' --" he paused, as if having to think about his answer. "Call me Dak'gnu, if you must."

Gerrod started to realize that his gruffness may not be from the crude dialect, but because he really didn't care for him. Still uncertain, he pressed the conversation. "Okay, 'Dark-One,' Where is this place we are in?"

"Prison," came his only willing reply.

"Are we in your city?" Gerrod asked sarcastically. His uncooperative, anti-social behavior didn't help the conversation much, but he still had questions, and this Dak'gnu was going to answer them.

"Mezzo'Dakmania. City of drow." He spoke these words with a sense of pride, though it seemed a wistful pride of old.

Gerrod felt some relief, though very little. They had at least managed to arrive at the same place that the army was supposedly headed; whatever good that did them now.

"Do you know why we are being held here?"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked incredulously. "I not like surface-worlders. I not like you. I not talk to surface-worlders, and I not talk to you. Just leave me alone."

Gerrod had had enough, and was too frustrated by the situation to put up with his attitude. "You look. I've been ambushed, drugged, and chained to a wall. I have a million questions, and all the time in the world on my hands. I need information and, right now, you're my best bet. You've nothing to lose by telling me what I need to know, and when we bust out of here, it may even be worth it to you if you are helpful. Otherwise, I've no qualms about leaving you chained up here for daily torture sessions. The way I see it, we're your best chance of getting out of here. You don't have to like me. I just want some answers, and I'm offering to make it worth your while if you help. That's all."

He retorted with what almost sounded like a laugh. "Surface-worlder." He said mockingly, as an insult.

"What's so amusing?" Gerrod asked innocently. Though he knew he annoyed Dak'gnu to no end, he was starting to have the same effect on Gerrod.

"Your ignorance," he said as if it should have been obvious. "You surface-worlder held in drow prison of First Mother. Why you think you kept here?"

"You tell me. If they wanted to kill us, they would have done that in the caverns instead of taking us prisoners. We have no information that could possibly be useful, so I don't know what use we would be to them alive."

"Make good slaves, for starters," Dak'gnu replied slowly, as if judging them, "But I think the Matron Mother of House Fa'Langa have better way for you to serve Lolth. A much more devious way."

"And what may that be?" Gerrod was desperate for answers.

"You heard of surface-worlder Rai'dley?" He inquired, perhaps thinking this was a person of great notoriety to all the people above.

Gerrod's mind reeled at the implications of his knowing of the mage. Still, he tried not to show a reaction, just in case he was simply trying to get one. "In fact, yes I have. She is a mage, from my understandings. What does she have to do with your people?"

"She develop way to transform living creature into powerful zombie, animated corpse of undead world. This creation, unlike most, maintains its fighting abilities. Loses will to who controls it. Become soldier of death under mage's control."

Shivers ran down Gerrod's spine at the revelation. That was why Rai'dley had brought the King's Guard here. It was an army of well-trained men, ready to be put under her total control. He knew something of the undead, as he had heard of the many encounters Allison and Amanda had told of them. They described them to be the most grotesque abomination of nature that there could be. Denied putting their spirits to rest, the undead roamed the earth with a hatred for anything living. They had a mindless fearlessness about them, and many terrible abilities drawn from the plane of death. Normally mindless creatures acting solely on hatred, they would make a powerful army if they could somehow be controlled. Under an organized leader, they could be a tremendous force. Still, Gerrod didn't get their connection with the drow.

"Rai'dley is mage. Mages have no dominion over creation or control of undead. Rai'dley needed drow priestesses to carry out plan. Chaos this promises on surface-world fits Lolth's plans. Be great victory for drow, and goddess, if surface-worlders be destroyed. So, drow, the First Mother, aid Rai'dley in plan."

"So where do we fit in?"

"I imagine Matron Mother see demonstration of process on surface-worlder. That where you come in, Surface-worlder." Gerrod couldn't help but get the sense that Dak'gnu actually enjoyed the idea.

"Well, she'll soon have her chance," the ranger explained, putting the two together as much for himself as for the dark elf. "An entire legion of troops from the King's Guard of Oswegonia has just arrived. I believe that your Mother will get her demonstration soon enough."

"The festival!" Dak'gnu suddenly blurted in revelation, putting together his own puzzle pieces. "Mother Fa'Langa must intend to carry out plan on most holy of days. Today is Festival of To'mak. A tremendous sacrifice that be to goddess. How clever. How devious. Sacrifice such as that would guarantee the First Mother's continued favor with Lolth for long time to come. Brilliant, that one. Well she serves the Dark Queen." Gerrod could hear a warm grin spread across his black face. This grin brought with it the kind of relief a starving man feels when he has his first meal in ages. A great, aching pain in him had finally been satisfied. "Glory to the Dark Queen."

"I, for one, do not intend to be sacrificed as part of any undead army. We must find a way out of here. Any ideas on how we do that?"

"You don't," Dak'gnu answered confidently. "There no escape from prison."

Gerrod didn't doubt the drow's belief in his answer, and felt it was more than drow pride speaking, for there was bitter remorse in his tone. He thought he would try to change the subject. "So, why are you here, if I may ask?"

"You may not." That is all he would say of the matter, and Gerrod dropped the conversation so as not to rile him further. He had been surprisingly generous with his answers so far, and he didn't want to push it. Gerrod was learning to carefully choose his battles.

The half-elf left him to brood while he translated the highlights of the information to Ace, who had been patiently listening to the foreign elvish language, trying to cipher what he could out of the broken elven tongue.

"So where are the girls?" Ace asked at long end, an obvious point that Gerrod had forgotten to ask.

"They be kept better than us, I assure you. They be sacrificed to the Dark Queen," Dak'gnu answered grimly. "Their deaths be quick and painless," Dak'gnu quickly offered, as if hoping this would be of comfort. It wasn't. "You should wish have been female -- you fair much better. Mezzo'Dakmania strong matriarchal society. Males little more than tools or pawns to women who rule. Such are the ways of the Dark Queen." Again, this sounded like sincere praise for his goddess, despite the terrible comments he was making about her.

"Where would they be kept? Are they far away from us?" Ace and Gerrod could only hope to formulate some sort of plan. Just in case the impossible happened, they wanted to be ready to make the most of the opportunity.

As he translated to Ace, Dak'gnu willingly described, in detail, the area surrounding the dungeon, and the area the females were most likely to be kept. Still, all the while, he assured them that it was all moot, since no one had ever escaped from the dungeon of the First Ruling Family alive before. Gerrod was quick to remind him, the dungeon of the First Ruling Family of Mezzo'Dakmania had never held the members of Wefpub before.

# 

#  Chapter 21

# Fire and Lightning

A loud, sharp rap on the metal surface drew Ace and Gerrod's attention to the door. It opened up immediately without the familiar jingling of keys they had come to associate with the lock on the other side. Three quick figures rushed in and shut the door behind them. Squinting in the dim light of the purple torch, Gerrod's suspicions were confirmed when Ace greeted the three warmly. "Corinna, Amanda, Allison! What a pleasure to see you again!" He cried out in hushed whispers.

Without saying a word, Corinna and Amanda came to tend to them, as Allison stood as a burly watch by the door. Corinna held a silencing finger to her lips as she reached out and rapped on the stone pillar with a magical wand. As the metal wand struck the solid stone, the snake-shaped shackles released their bite and recoiled too realistically into the holes from which they hung.

All three bodies hit the floor together, no longer shackled and not used to the luxury of supporting their own weight. As they crumpled to the ground, Amanda came upon them with her healing touch. Gerrod felt the warmth of her healing hands spread through him, and life flowed back into tired and sore muscles. Groans of relief from Ace's direction let him know he gained the same strengthening treatment.

Corinna was clearly startled when she recognized the third, unexpected body drop on the other side of Gerrod. She was further alarmed to see the writhing black skinned form of a drow. She immediately drew her dagger and held the weak, unarmed man at bay.

Both the female mage in black robes with a wild look in her eyes and the distressed, pained black-skinned man standing helplessly on his knees almost simultaneously asked Gerrod, "Is this a friend of yours?"

"It's all right, Corinna," he called to her. She looked at him again as if for verification. Gerrod nodded his head. "This is Dak'gnu. He's also a prisoner here." He looked at Dak'gnu, who's worried expression hadn't eased yet. "He's okay."

This opinion was greeted with pessimism from Corinna, and a large, pleased smile from the dark elf. He obviously approved of Gerrod's willing acceptance much more than Corinna did. But Corinna knew there was no time for explanations. "Let's get out of here," she said, heading for the door.

"Wait!" Dak'gnu cried out in his thickly accented elvish. Corinna spun around, but almost kept going until she saw Gerrod stop.

"We don't have all day," she explained impatiently, but Gerrod stayed his ground. He was the only one willing to hear what the dark friend had to say.

Without further explanation, Dak'gnu moved to the wall above the single table. Between the two wall sconces, he activated a secret panel. A hidden opening slid aside in the otherwise solid block wall, and he pulled out piles of equipment. Their equipment! He dragged everything out, and it heaped over the table. Flicker fell off the table and skittered across the floor until it stopped at Gerrod's feet. He picked up the trusted blade, almost as glad to see it as he was his friends.

Ace and Gerrod grabbed their stuff and suited up as quickly as they could. They were ready in a minute. They felt much better about their chances of escaping now that they brandished their favored weapons. By their side, Dak'gnu joined them as he slipped into the remaining equipment. A loose, chainmail robe fitted about him, along with an entire arsenal of swords, daggers, hand-held crossbows. All were secreted away beneath the open robe. He also buckled on a black-metal chestplate, which protected where the opening in the heavy metal robe did not.

"He's not coming with us!" Corinna protested, but Gerrod reminded her they had little time to debate the matter.

"Let's just get out of here, fast!" he requested.

Ace swung his heavy axe around to gather the feel for the weight of the massive blade. "Dak'gnu says it can't be done," he said as the handle spun into his solid grip. "Let's show him how we do it."

Unwilling to take either the time or the effort to argue what was obviously a moot point, Corinna set about casting spells. Ace didn't care for the idea, but knew better than to resist. A shiver ran down his spine like a cold chill. "Don't worry, Ace," Corinna assured him. This will just keep those nasty crossbows from hitting us."

Amanda, who blessed them both with spells of protection and fire resistance, efficiently followed Corinna. "What do we need fire resistance for?" Ace complained.

"You'll see!" Corinna responded with a smile that Ace had learned not to like at all.

When Amanda got done with her holy signs over Gerrod, she turned to the strange drow warrior. "Sorry, but we don't have enough spells for you too. We weren't expecting company."

Dak'gnu had been content to watch them prepare for the task at hand. He even started to believe that this may not be as impossible as he had once thought. "That okay. Wait long for today. I take my chances beside you, if can." Another warm smile spread across him.

"The more the merrier!" Amanda welcomed him.

"As long as you stay out of the way and stay quiet," Corinna warned. "The first sign that you're betraying us, and you'll hit the ground only wishing you knew what killed you."

"I'll try not 'get in your way,'" Dak'gnu agreed, still with that irrepressible smile. That grin disarmed Corinna. Her brow wrinkled as she tried to tell whether he was mocking her or not. Deciding it wasn't worth the bother, she cued Amanda that they were ready.

As Amanda wove another priestly spell, Corinna gave one last word of advise, "Whenever any of us yells, 'Shield!' close your eyes for a second or two. Especially you, Dark One." It was her turn to smile and Dak'gnu's turn to be worried. He decided to do as she said.

Amanda indicated that she was ready. "Everyone stay together. We'll be following my lead, since I've a spell to tell us the quickest way out of here."

"Are we all clear, Allison?" Corinna asked. When she indicated that no one was coming, the door opened up and they were on their way.

Allison led first, paving the way for her sister who directed her from behind. Next followed Ace and then Dak'gnu, who slunk along the dark corridors as if he knew them by heart. From his accurate description of them from the cell, Gerrod didn't doubt that he did.

Gerrod followed their new friend, and behind him, Corinna insisted on taking up the rear. They all traveled as stealthily as possible, but they knew it would only be a matter of time before they ran into a patrol of guards.

The attack came as silently as the darkness that fell over them. When their infravision didn't help, it was easy to guess the unnatural origins of the shadows. A rain of small crossbow bolts quickly followed the darkness that fell. They knew they were tipped with poison.

Corinna's spell worked great, as the foul darts were kept from their targets. "Keep moving" was the key to their escape, and so they didn't slow down for either the darkness or the bolts. Allison boldly ran to meet the small patrol. Both swords drawn, she lit into the first two who stood to face them, still brandishing their crossbows. She mowed through them, but there were at least ten more males behind.

"Shield!" Amanda warned. As if instinctively, Gerrod's eyes slammed shut, even though they continued to run through the darkness.

When he opened his eyes, Gerrod could see the formation of male drow had broken up, as most fought to regain their eyesight. The center soldier glowed with a brilliant light, and the drow standing near had been caught unaware and blinded. Their sightless orbs struggled to shift into an infravision focus, but by then it was too late.

Like an unstoppable orcan war machine, Wefpub pounded onward down the hallway. By the time each of them blasted a defenseless drow or two on their way by, there was little left standing of the patrol party. The body of the effected guard, laying dead in the middle of the hallway, continued to shine with an impossibly bright light.

Dak'gnu had to hide his head deep in the folds of the black hood of his chain mail robe. He could not bear to look into the light any more than his kin could. Still, blinded as he was, he managed to deliver lethal sword blows to two of the guards as he passed by. As he looked back at the decimated group, he began to rethink their odds of survival. He almost seemed to enjoy this game.

It wasn't long before they met up with more groups of guards as the word of their escape inevitably started to spread through the drow complex. The corridors twisted and turned, and there were always cross halls connecting up with this wider route. Crossbow bolts flooded out of every opening, but all were turned away by the power of the spells.

Still, they kept running. Behind them, the soldiers, eager to prove themselves with their capture or death, gave chase. Bright balls of light from Corinna blocked the paths behind. With Corinna's careful planning, they clogged the hallway with piles of soldiers who stumbled over each other in the blinding light. But as they continued to run, they had the sense that the clever drow were closing in on them at every turn.

As they made their way through the turns of the maze that was the complex, more and larger patrols and reinforcements were called down upon them. They managed to escape many of them by turning down different corridors, but they continued to move in from the sides. As they ran through one intersection, a quick male soldier managed to blindly strike out and land a solid blow into Amanda's side. She was thrown against the far wall by the impact. When Allison turned around, she left nothing of the guard recognizable. Still, when she was done, her sister laid against the far wall, clutching her side to stay the flow of blood there.

Ace covered for the powerful female warrior, and started swinging with his axe. In the center of their party, he had had little chance for the action he longed for. He made up for that now with a vengeance. But in the crowded intersection, with another line of men coming up from the other way, even Ace was hard pressed to protect them from both directions.

To the shock of those he met, Dak'gnu stepped up and started slicing into the advancing drow warriors. Dak'gnu knew his presence would give the patrols pause, and he used their hesitation to his advantage. He wasted no time in laying his two fine swords against them. Years of skilled training were evident in the smooth ease he wielded both a powerful long sword and a small but equally deadly dagger.

Seeing that Ace was in good company, Gerrod helped Allison attend to Amanda. While the wound was not large, he could tell that it ran deep. Try as she might, the brave priestess couldn't stem the flow, as her life's essence drained into puddles on the floor. Allison laid her hands on her for healing, and while the wound closed up immediately, there was already too much damage done and blood lost. Amanda would not be able to show them the way out. She struggled to remain conscious, and even joining them at the pace they needed to travel would be testimony enough for her fortitude.

"We've got to do something," Ace urged between battles. "They're coming in quicker all the time."

"But we don't know which way to go," Corinna defended her indecision.

"I do," Dak'gnu volunteered.

"Can you get us out of here?" Gerrod asked, convinced he was their best bet.

"Just follow me," he said with that nasty grin of his. "This been long time coming!"

With a blur, his two deadly swords sped up, clearing enough gap to give him some extra time before the next round of drow closed in. Without even sheathing his weapons and drawing out magical components, Dak'gnu simply pointed his dagger down the corridor and uttered a command. Those in the front ranks caught the blast of the spell full-force, and were soundly thrown twenty feet down the stone corridor. They were skewered on the swords of those behind them, and in turn, pushed them onto others. When the dust finally settled, there were none left to challenge the united members of Wefpub.

Gerrod only smiled as he heard Corinna's eyes pop out of their sockets. She was definitely impressed.

But they knew the opening wouldn't last for long, and as Dak'gnu dove down the open hallway, they were quick to follow. Allison pulled Amanda up, and helped support her weight as she struggled along. Allison didn't prove very graceful as she tried to assist her sister. Amanda insisted on trying to make it on her own. The two of them looked like an awkward four-legged bird. Gerrod knew this union wouldn't last long, and soon the frustrated Amanda was pounding on Allison's plate armor. Much to Allison's chagrin, Amanda peeled her protective sister off of her, and felt much lighter for it.

They followed Ace and Dak'gnu, and Corinna and Gerrod brought up the rear. Through many quick ducks into dark side alleys, Dak'gnu managed to get past many of the guards that were searching the area for them. They took pride in the fact that the patrols seemed to be getting bigger. Now there were females edging them on; females, which Dak'gnu pointed out, were far more dangerous.

As they went on, tactics started changing as the warriors got better organized. Once they were surprised after rushing into a room they figured to be empty, when a line of fighters stepped out behind them from a curtain of magical darkness. With quick, cat-like reflexes, Corinna spun around and laid out a wall of fire the width of the room. As the wall of impenetrable heat struck, the entire line of men melted before their eyes.

Another band of drow that tried to follow them were met with cobwebs coating the walls, ceiling and floor. Laughing at the stupid trick to use against the drow, worshippers of the Spider Goddess, Lolth, they pushed right on. They easily shook off the webs, reveling in their victory. That was, of course, until Allison turned around and ignited the volatile webs with flames. Drow screams rang through the complex and echoed in their ears. If anything, Dak'gnu enjoyed the carnage, laughing almost maniacally at the sickening sight.

Behind them was an endless trail of devastation. They left other wide corridors blocked by large clouds of poisonous gas and caved-in rockwork turned to mud. The mudslides buried drow bodies. There were balls of blinding light that would have to be magically dispelled before they could be easily crossed. Above all, were the piled remains of drow, slain in their desperate struggle to climb over comrades to gain victory for their Dark Queen.

Even Amanda, who bit down hard against the pain, managed a forceful prayer that brought her own wall of fire to bear down on their captors. Even though it drained more of her precious strength, Gerrod could tell by her satisfied grin that it was worth it.

Just when they thought the complex would never end, and Corinna announced she was out of tricks, (and spells), Dak'gnu came to a halt in a large room. The whites of his eyes glowed against his black skin. For the brave drow, who had proven himself by mowing down dozens of his evil kin, this was not a comforting reaction to what ever it was they faced next.

The room was an ambush, lined by great numbers of the best warriors the drow had to offer. A half dozen females were scattered among their ranks, all higher priestesses of Lolth. They waved terrible whips with long fanged snakes for tails. The heads of the snakes lashed out on their own power, hungry for the taste of flesh. Now it was Gerrod's turn to be paralyzed by fear.

"What a shame that it had to come down to this, male," an evil seductress of Lolth purred. She relished in the victory that her planning would bring her and the glory of the Dark Queen. "But then, against a male without a family, against a dreg, what could one expect?"

Through his fear, Dak'gnu forced out a response. His hatred boiled beyond that fear. "You are wrong, Fa'Sol. I am Dai'Myn of the House of --" he began proudly.

The female was incensed. "How dare you!" she came hard with the whip. It streaked across the room. Snap! Snap! The two snake heads lit into him, seeking out his exposed flesh. One nasty fanged bite landed on a hand, while the other stretched out for his face, grabbing into the fleshy meat of his cheek. After a bite that lasted just long enough to inject its poison, the heads recoiled leaving large, fresh wounds. "How dare you speak the name of that family to me!"

The terrible wounds suddenly healed over, and even though they inflicted much pain, his smile revealed little damage. He would not relent. "I am Dai'Myn of the House of Myn'Gotha."

"Blasphemer!" came the charge and two more terrible lashes with the demon whip. These too healed over too quickly, and the only reaction they gained was a pain-filled smile. "That family is a defilement to Lolth, and you shall pay with her wrath!" Two more strikes of the snake-headed whip came in and Gerrod started to feel faint for Dak'gnu.

"Myn'Gotha!" he shouted.

Two more strikes of the whip. Snap! Snap!

"First family!" he shouted again.

Two more terrible strikes. Snap! Snap!

"No family!" the woman cried in protest.

As this struggle continued for far too long, Gerrod's instincts were to use the time to scout out the room for a possible escape from this madness. Besides, it kept his mind off that terrible snake-headed weapon.

There were three doors to the room, the one they came in, and two others. The two remaining doors stood tauntingly behind a wall of those drow warriors. By their more elaborate armor and weapons, he guessed that these were a more elite guard. They were far from the fodder they had faced in the corridors. Besides, there were still several females, each with a terrible whip. Something told Gerrod that if those foul weapons struck them, the vicious wounds would not instantly heal, and that a single dose of that venom would render them unconscious, if not worse.

The only other visible exit from the room was out a large window. Extending from about a foot from the floor to near the ceiling above, it provided a superb view of the dreg city far below them. Even though the distance was hard to gauge, based on what few dim lights there were, it was obvious that there was little hope that the ground was anywhere near.

In the center of the room, attention was pulled to the stubborn battle of wills being played out there still. Racked with pain, Dak'gnu was forced to his knees after an untold number of strikes from those demon whips. Still, he proudly refused to lower his eyes as was demanded of him by the rules of drow society. Gerrod finally realized that all of those healed over wounds he had noticed in the dungeon were whip strikes such as he suffered now. They revealed years of meticulous torture. Now, it was all those years of pain and torture that numbed him to the biting cruelty of those whips. Still, his terrible beating was severe, and there was no denying the cumulative effects of the well-placed blows.

It was only a matter of time before Dak'gnu would die, but never in shame as Fa'Sol would have him.

Slowly and secretively, Corinna edged her way across the room, using Dak'gnu's distraction, until she could look down over the edge of the window. She swallowed hard, seeing the dizzying height they were at, but then signaled them with her eyes. She had at least one last trick up her sleeve. Corinna always did.

They knew that any escape this time would require split second timing. Fortunately, their years of adventuring together gave them that edge. It was on that fine line that they walked that day.

They were all ready for what ever happened next, the moment that Corinna gave the signal. Allison scooped Amanda up, who did little to protest the handling. Gerrod leapt across the room, grabbing the waning Dak'gnu. Fascinated by the display of enduring torture they had seen, the warriors gathered there had little chance to react to their sudden movement.

As the drow priestesses drew their whips back for a strike at them, the room was suddenly filled with a spread of lightning bolts. The brilliant array blinded the drow, as it sliced its way right through their armored bodies. All of the fine metal mesh they wore did little to protect them as death's fingers crackled over them or shot right through their bodies. The skewering left large smoldering holes where vital organs used to be.

The bolts streaked across the room in all directions, but didn't stop when they hit the stone walls. Most of the powerful energy was reflected off the smooth, hard surfaces, and shot through many of the same drow it killed the first time through. The air was filled with the explosion and the screams.

This noise and confusion quickly died away, and then became theirs, as the members of Wefpub found themselves falling helplessly to the ground, many thousands of feet somewhere below.

Lightning bolts ricocheted off the walls and poured out the open window behind them flooding the space above. The rush of air screamed in their ears. Gerrod reached out desperately to grab onto his friends, praying to find some comfort there. He found little, as they showed no signs of slowing. He wasn't sure whom he grabbed onto. He thought it was Ace, but at the moment it didn't matter. He knew it was one of his friends, and that alone was better than dying at the hands of the drow.

When the rush of air suddenly stopped, Gerrod thought they were all dead. When he opened his eyes and saw the face of the rocky cliff speeding dangerously close by his head, he knew that the terror would not be over so easily. He noticed moments later the resistance of a sphere beneath him, and realized that it moved with them, and was what blocked the wind. Judging by the forms of his friends, pressed against the walls, the area encompassed all of them.

Then, under Corinna's insistent chanting, the entire sphere started to slow down. Their descent was softened by the security of the sphere. By the time they hit the ground, they had slowed significantly, and the great sphere of magical energy absorbed most of the shock.

They were met by the crackle of magical energy, and for a moment, Gerrod wondered whether some stray bolts of lightning struck them, but it seemed to be coming up from the ground. As they all piled into the bottom of the sphere with the jerking impact, they started to roll uncontrollably.

Ace, who protested being encapsulated within the magical shell despite the obvious alternatives, was tossed around as their barrier rolled like a ball. Being much smaller, Ace was unable to maintain his footing even as well as everyone else.

It was all that they could do to brace themselves against the opposite walls of the invisible shield and roll with the globe. As Gerrod rolled around upside down one revolution, he couldn't help but notice that they were still several feet off the ground. They were rolling along some other invisible force field below them.

They rolled the only direction they could, away from the large stone cliff, and were rudely dropped another ten feet off the top of the magical force field, and deposited on the outside of a large fence. Their momentum their guide, they continued to roll unheeded across the ground and away from the fence. It didn't matter where they were rolling. They all knew they had escaped certain death in the face of the drow.

Seconds later, they were treated to a soft splash as their cocoon landing neatly in a body of water. The buoyancy afforded them by the magical sphere offered its own challenges. Once they settled into the bottom of their small craft, they found some stability there.

Then there was darkness. It wasn't the darkness of the Underworld as they knew it. Whatever light there was in the drow city suddenly blinked away. Even scanning with his infravision left Gerrod clueless. He could see the other members of their party, but nothing at all beyond the sphere. "Oh great!" he thought, "After all of this, now we die!" But the pained misery of his friends and the groans they managed to let out let him know that somehow they had survived. Gerrod feared it was another attack by the drow, but no attack came.

They sat a while in the security of that sphere. It kept them dry as they bobbed along with the sensation of movement. The darkness was unceasing, but they were able to assess their situation.

"This sphere won't last much longer," Corinna informed them. "so I suggest we make the most of it. Amanda, are you still with us?"

A groan that sounded vaguely like the cleric responded. "Yeah, she's all right," Allison interpreted, as much to convince herself as it was others. "She has to be."

"Ace, you still here?" Gerrod asked, recognizing his infrared outline against the blackness around them.

"I'm here, lad," he grumbled. "This magic ain't killed me yet, though I'll be happier once we get out of this tub and back onto dry land."

"What about Dak'gnu?" Corinna asked, unable even to see an infrared vision of the man.

"I here," he moaned. Gerrod didn't care for the amount of effort it took him to say that. His body glowed softer than he thought it should, but the sphere was not compatible with moving around a whole lot.

"Let's try to tie ourselves together," Corinna suggested. "When this bubble breaks, who knows where we'll be. It may be the only way to get us out of here alive.

Pressing their luck and moving as little as possible, they passed ropes along, each tying themselves into the line the best they could. Gerrod tugged on the tether, and wasn't encouraged by the prospect that this might be the only thing that bound them together.

Without warning, the sphere burst and like the cracking of an egg, they were suddenly deposited into the freezing cold water. There was a strong current, and as each of them got carried away down stream, the tether pulled taunt.

# 

#  Chapter 22

# Festival of To'Mak

The cold of the water only enhanced their blindness. Gerrod found himself pounded against the walls of the riverbank, thrown about by the mercy and the whims of the fickle currents. His hands went numb quickly. He was smashed against the jagged stone embankments with such force that he was lucky to keep his head from cracking open. The constant pounding allowed little opportunity to grab the sides of the slick stone surfaces.

Gerrod clawed with his aching hands, grabbing at anything he could manage to curl his fingers around to slow them down. Time and time again, he found that what ever hand hold he could find ripped from his tiring grasp when the line pulled taunt.

Suddenly, the line caught taunt again. This time it caught on the other side of him, spinning Gerrod around. His head hit the rock bank as he dizzily fought to keep above water. They had stopped. Shaking off the pain and the numbness, he pulled himself out of the icy waters and found comfort in the cold stone at the top of the bank.

After pausing only long enough to cough out what water he had taken into his wheezing lungs, Gerrod began to pull on the tether. As they were each fished out of the water, they turned to help the others until, wheezing and coughing uncontrollably, they all laid safely on the stone ledge.

The cold of the water had regulated the temperature of the stone cavern, keeping it at the same freezing temperature. All appeared to be dark to their sensitive infravision. They relied on the touch of the cold stone to get their bearings. They were exhausted, wet, and freezing. Even though both Amanda and Dak'gnu insisted they were fine, their injuries had taken an additional toll on them. Alone in the dark, they were just grateful to all be alive.

Gerrod drew Flicker and called upon its magic to provide them with light as Ace retrieved his axe. Its sturdy blade was buried deep in a crevice of the stone embankment. He revealed that this was how he managed to bring their wild ride to an end. They were all thankful for the strength of that dwarven blade.

The ceiling along the river was very low next to the embankment. Gerrod had to crawl on his hands and knees. A tribute to Ace's short stature, he was pleased to walk upright, only needing to stoop slightly so his helmet didn't scrape.

The ledge was only a couple feet wide, but they were glad it was there at all. With the short wall of solid stone on one side, and the rushing current of the river on the other, Ace and Gerrod carefully explored their options. The narrow ledge followed the twists and turns of the cold river, but after going a few thousand feet down stream, the ledge ended sharply. They turned around and searched up the river a short way with even less luck.

"Only goes up river two hundred feet," Gerrod reported.

"Looks like we're lucky to have caught this ledge at all, before it went by," Ace noted.

"And more than grateful for that we are, old friend." Corinna put her hand on his shoulder.

"But how are we going to get out of here?" Gerrod asked. "I'm not eager to get back into that water, and it's not like we have a boat."

"We're safe here for a while, at least," Dak'gnu added. "Drow not explore River Rah."

"Maybe we do have a way out," Corinna said. Apparently she wasn't completely out of tricks yet. "I've been saving my last spell just in case we need it. It looks like we need it."

"I sure hope it's a good one." Ace huffed. "I don't think no rabbit out of a hat's going to help us now."

"We need to get somewhere where we can rest. I need to get my spells back so I can finish healing Mandy." There was a sound of pained desperation in Allison's husky voice. Gerrod knew that pain; that frustration when there's nothing you can do. He felt it when Star died. Allison would be as lost without Amanda as he was without Star.

"I'm all right for now," Amanda protested. "Don't worry about me, guys." Gerrod had to agree with Allison. Even though Amanda sounded strong, she struggled just to lift her head. The effort forced her to grab at her wound, and her pain was revealed.

"I haven't cast it often, as it's a new spell for me -- one of my most powerful. It's a wish spell. I can't really do miracles with it yet as it's quite limited, but I should be able to get us out of here."

"Well get to it, woman!" Ace said anxiously. "Where ever it takes us has to be better than here."

"Or what's back there," Gerrod motioned upstream.

"I think I can do even better than a boat," Corinna smiled. "But this is going to take a bit of concentration, so bear with me," she cautioned. "Everybody get up and hold hands in a circle."

In Flicker's steady light, Corinna's hands began to weave a magical pattern. Sparkling gold dust flew from her hands and landed on the circle of friends. Instead of landing on the ground, the dust began to swirl around in a shimmering whirlwind. Slowly, as Corinna chanted in her rhythmic, melodic tones, the individual particles of gold burst into bright dots of light, until they were blinded by the mesmerizing display. Corinna squinted her eyes shut in concentration, and Ace almost tipped right over. Dak'gnu clearly found the bright lights quite unpleasant, while Amanda was in little shape to argue. Allison's eyes glowed in awe.

Then the tingling started. It started in the fingers and toes, and moved up the limbs. They lost feeling of the hands they held, and hoped that the circle hadn't been broken. "I don't like this!" Ace twitched and squirmed as he was pulled into the whirlwind.

There was a loud boom as if their heads were exploding. They would have felt their ears cave in, had they not been reduced to grains of sand. Their very beings, split up into countless specks of life, were mixed in with all those in the circle. They could feel the other people, almost as if they were all a part of each other. What if something had gone wrong? What if they were all mixed in together as one, and couldn't ever be separated. They had to wonder, feeling every bit of all of their friends, if that would be so bad. But as they felt those grains of sand falling back into place again, the particles coalescing as if they knew where they belonged, they slowly regained the sense of their own bodies once more. It was good to feel whole again.

As the last of the rematerialization took place, Gerrod looked around, glad to see the circle of friends whole again. "Damn it, woman!" Ace barked, "I really hated that!"

"I know, Ace, me too," Corinna agreed, "but it's better than being stuck in that cave." No one disagreed.

The room was dark but safe and dry. "So where are we?" Dak'gnu asked.

"This is my cottage in the woods," Corinna explained, moving to light a lamp. The room soon glowed with the warm, friendly light. It was a neatly kept place, though crowded with many busy things of interest. They stood in the middle of the main living space, with several rooms off in every direction. It was quite large and spacious for a "cottage." Nothing could be seen out the darkened windows. "It must be night out there," she noted.

"So where is your cottage?" Ace asked. "Are we back in Oswegonia?"

"Sorry, Ace," Corinna said, "But we're a couple days north of Crystal Meir."

"Well," Ace stammered with his lost hope, "I was just wondering."

"I had to aim for someplace that I knew well."

"Like the inn? What was wrong with the inn?"

"We also needed some place safe, Ace. We can't afford another fight right now, especially until Amanda gets back up on her feet. Who knows what Oswegonia's like now."

"I know," Ace said more to himself as his attentions drifted out the dark windows.

As Corinna helped Allison get Amanda settled into a bed, Gerrod noticed Dak'gnu also gazing out the blackened windows. "You all right?" he asked as he walked up to him.

"So this is surface world," he said wistfully. "I've heard so many things." He chuckled to himself as if he couldn't believe it. "So this is the surface."

"A lot to take in, isn't it?"

"A long ways from home, that's for sure. A long way from home."

"What will you do now? You don't want to go back, do you?"

He laughed unexpectedly, that customary smile returning. "I've nothing to go back to. I never had anything in Mezzo'Dakmania. I have no family there."

"No friends?"

"Drow do not make friends. Business associates, perhaps, but not friends. You learn early on that trust in others is a weakness, not a strength. In Mezzo'Dakmania, only strong survive."

"So then, what?"

"I've come to join you in your quest, and that I shall do. Rai'dley must be stopped."

"Yeah, but then what?"

"The surface not so bad," he mused, still staring out the window. "A lot like home."

"Wait until the sun comes up," Gerrod laughed. He knew the very real pain the dawn would soon bring.

Gerrod left Dak'gnu staring out the window as Corinna showed Ace and him to another room of her spacious home.

The grand procession was just entering the Great Meeting Hall, temple of Lolth, when the news of Wefpub's escape reached the First Mother. A satisfied grin came over her. "See to it that it doesn't look too easy, understand?" she asked her daughter.

"Of course, Mother," Fa'Sol bowed, glad to gain her Mother's favor. There was more news, and she hoped this wouldn't cost her too much of that earned favor. "First Mother," she tugged on the old woman's robes, "Dak'gnu has fled with them."

"I see," she responded somberly. "It's a shame to lose him like that, but it's an acceptable loss. It will be worth it, just to see the look on Rai'dley's face when she hears of the Surface-worlders' escape."

"How true, Mother Fa'Langa," Fa'Sol agreed, appreciating the deviousness of her Mother's plan.

"Now go, give your 'beloved mate' a suitable going away present." Mother Fa'Langa started to turn back to the assembling procession but added, "Make me proud."

"Yes, Mother!" Fa'Sol agreed too eagerly.

As Fa'Sol slipped off into the darkness, Mother Fa'Langa turned her attentions to the ceremonies at hand. The Matron Mother had seen almost three hundred Festivals of To'Mak, but none promised to be as glorious as this one.

Rai'dley had provided the First Mother with the large sacrifice of a great army. Surely this would impress the goddess, and she would look even more favorably on the First Mother. The simple request to drain the life energy from the surface-worlders would appease the goddess, and she would be further pleased with the treachery of Matron Fa'Langa's allowing the members of Wefpub to escape. The only thing that Lolth enjoyed more than chaos, was treachery that led to chaos.

At the head of the lengthy processional, Rai'dley had already made the long walk to the front of the massive temple, and had taken her seat on the tall dais. She looked smug, gazing down at the four hundred drow that had gathered for the Festival on this most holy of days. "She, a Surface-worlder, sitting on the sacred dais as if she was First Mother. How absurd can you get?" Mother Fa'Langa mused.

Behind Rai'dley filed the ranks of the King's Guard. Cheered on by the congregation of drow, they walked down the central aisle of the dark temple as if they were heroes in a parade. They shook their hands triumphantly in the air, and congratulated each other for their survival through the trials of their travels. They were well rested now, and had spent the last few days feasting and drinking well from the bounty the drow had provided them. And so they marched triumphantly to their seats in the front of the temple, awaiting the praise of the drow people. They had been promised that they would get the honor that they deserved.

"Like fattened cows headed for the slaughterhouse," Rai'dley grinned. "Soon their life-force will be drained, and they will be undead, eager for my control." She smiled to LaBairne, who waved stupidly at her.

After the sacrifice was seated, the music that echoed through the Hall turned to a more pious strain, a cue for Mother Fa'Langa to lead her personal escort in. Followed by many daughters, guards of her personal elite forces, and many other hand servants and assistants, the First Mother slowly made her way down the aisle like a blushing bride. None of the drow assembled there, the most powerful in all of Mezzo'Dakmania, dared look at her, for they feared they might meet her gaze. Mother Fa'Langa knew that it was fear that turned their eyes, not respect, but fear had always gotten her all the respect she had ever demanded. Fear was good and unquestionable. There was no loyalty if there was no fear.

As she took her seat in the center of the dais, she stamped the platform soundly three times with the butt of her solid staff, and signaled that everyone could look up to her in her glory. With the mystical play of the purple lights accenting from behind her, and the lacy black dress that seemed to be woven from spider webs themselves, she made for a stunning figure at a distance. Awe filled the slack jaws of those gathered there.

This signaled the start of the Festival of To'Mak, and the ceremony proper began. There were prayers of praise to Lolth and Mother Fa'Langa, the First Mother. The words of Lolth and her wisdom were recited for the masses. The beliefs of the drow people, of these Ruling Families, were reaffirmed. Songs to Lolth rang out in the stone cathedral, drowning out the noise of combat.

Not far away, a small party of six brave adventurers fought their way out of imprisonment. They fought their way past hundreds of males sent out as fodder. Other than Fa'Sol, Mother Fa'Langa would not dispatch any one of importance to partake in that charade. Instead, her truly favored daughters lined on either side of her.

The room was filled with colorful, symbolic lights and incense. The story was retold of how Lolth had lead the pitiful, exiled survivors of the Great Elven Wars to the safety of Mezzo'Dakmania. The goddess had given these, her chosen children, the strength and abilities they needed to survive in the harsh Underworld. Praise was given to Lolth, and Rai'dley smiled.

In many ways, she accomplished the same thing with the King's Guard. She had shown them the way to the drow city, and there her drow descendants had nourished them and were about to give them "unique powers." Lolth would surely grant them the powers necessary to have their revenge on the surface-worlders. It was so promised to her.

After all the pomp of the rituals, Mother Fa'Langa made her much awaited speech of inspiration to the drow people. She spoke of the power and the glory of Lolth, of the wisdom of her guidance, the plea for loyalty, and the threat of disobedience. For Mother Fa'Langa, these were all the same thing.

Finally, with great anticipation, the sacrifice was presented to Lolth. All the remaining Guard, almost a hundred and fifty men, were ordered to kneel before the dais. They knelt obediently before the leader of the drow people, and foolishly awaited the "honor that was due them."

As the First Mother began the ancient chant, her daughters, the most powerful priestesses of Lolth, joined her. The men were granted their honor.

Black bolts of lightning lowered across the gathered mass of men, jetting out through all ten of the First Mother's evil digits. They fanned out, encompassing the width of the file of men kneeling helplessly before her.

With sudden looks of shock and horror, those wicked black bolts skewered the defenseless men, immediately purging them of their souls. Glowing spheres of pure energy floated into the air above them, forming a cloud of tiny bubbles. They wafted in the still, cool air of the Temple of Lolth, before being swept up by the currents and disappearing through a vent at the top of the ceiling. The assembled crowd of believers gasped in awe at the power that flowed through the ancient drow First Mother. It didn't drain her in the least, but instead strengthened her. The experience revived her with a glow of brilliance that hurt the sensitive eyes that tried to focus on her.

Smoke rose from the bodies of the King's Guard. It was a foul stench that nauseated those around them. But to the lich Rai'dley, it was the beautiful perfume she savored. It was the stench of death. As the smoke cleared, it revealed a jumbled mass of limbs and charred flesh turned ashen in color.

Rai'dley stood, hardly able to believe what she saw before her. Of such splendor her dreams were made. Now it was time to test the spoils of her work. She produced a sceptre from one of her long, full sleeves. Atop the balled end, sat a carving of a spider. The sceptre was made out of the same bluish steel the drow used, called adamantane, or Lolth's steel. The small red crystal ball, said to be made of the blood from a thousand spiders, glowed with an inner light that captured the attention of all who saw it.

"Arise, my children!" Rai'dley commanded. "Arise and acknowledge me, your Mistress!"

From the tangle of bodies, the red stares of eyes popped open, and they listened to the voice. They saw the sceptre, and the voice gave them guidance. They hadn't the will to refuse, and so they obeyed. They obeyed the voice of the sceptre.

As quickly as they could untangle their mass of limbs and regain their delicate balance, the members of the King's Guard stood and faced Rai'dley at stiff attention. Their eager, red glowing eyes of undeath shown upon her, and Rai'dley knew. They were no longer the King's Guard of Oswegonia. They were Rai'dley's elite force of undead warriors.

Rai'dley laughed maniacally. The world would fall to its knees before her. Victory would be hers. It was so promised.

LaBairne stood tall and stared at Rai'dley with a hatred he had never felt before. The lies. The betrayal. The pain. His temper flared with the red lights that glowed where eyeballs had just been. He looked at his frail looking form; dried leathery skin pulled taunt over naked bone. His hair hung around his face, gray and falling out in clumps. His hands looked like a skeleton's, so gnarled to the bone.

Still, there was strength here. More strength than ever before. Power. And hatred. Hatred for all living things, but mostly for Rai'dley. For Rai'dley held the sceptre that bid he obey that foul witch. Someday he would kill her. Someday. He so promised himself.

Mother Fa'Langa knew where Rai'dley would be. Of course she knew. She knew how badly the lich needed the spirit energy Rai'dley had hoped to trap from the King's Guard. That was why the Matron Mother had sent someone to destroy that trap, allowing all the life-energy to be free and absorbed by her goddess. It was Lolth who had told her of Rai'dley's deception, and by Lolth's command that she foiled the mage's trap. Still, she couldn't resist seeing the arrogant surface-worlder's face when she saw her plans ruined. That alone would have tempted her to do so.

The First Mother deftly made her way along the twisting, craggy corridor that led to the chamber above the drow temple. She moved without pain, and with a grace to her step she had lacked for years. The three young males behind her were pressed to keep up. Kin of the darkness, they moved so rapidly and so silently that they stood within arm's distance from the distracted Rai'dley before she was even aware of them. "Oh no," Rai'dley muttered to herself as Mother Fa'Langa approached.

"Oh dear," the First Mother said in a voice that no longer cracked and strained. Rai'dley spun around, and at first didn't recognize the enervated old woman. She managed to stem back an abusive stream of curses before any damage was done. This didn't go unnoticed by the Matron Mother, and she was amused. "It seems as though some one was trying to trap some of the life-energy that was Lolth's. It is a good thing you found this trap and spoiled it before our goddess was robbed of her due. You no doubt saved that person from unspeakable torment at the wrath of Lolth."

"Ah, yes. No doubt," Rai'dley said.

"But of course it looks to have been a rather poor trap and a rather inept attempt. That container wouldn't have ever been able to catch nearly enough life-energy to have done anyone any good. Who ever put it there clearly must not have had any idea what they were doing, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course, Mother Fa'Langa," Rai'dley agreed.

"Really?" the Matron Mother tried to look confused. "I wasn't aware that life-energy capture was among the talents of a simple mage." She paused. "I'm surprised you'd know enough to be in a position to evaluate a trap of souls, let alone recognize one when you saw it."

"Of course I wouldn't," Rai'dley stammered. Her mind raced to devise an explanation. "But it appeared to be your observations, First Mother, and I certainly do know enough to trust your judgment, especially in these matters."

"That's right, dear. Don't forget it was by my own specifications that the sceptre of undead control was crafted. You seek to control an undead army, Mage Rai'dley. But the undead have surprises of their own that you can not begin to understand. Be careful; for you seek to control those things you don't understand."

"Your wise concern is duly noted. Thank-you," Rai'dley smirked. "But I understand far more than you would expect."

"As do I." The Matron Mother turned to her entourage of guards and smoothly glided across the room. She didn't turn back, even as she spoke.

Rai'dley noted carefully every word, every nuance of what the drow said. Words were few for these people, and Rai'dley had learned that they usually meant more than what was ever said.

"So how does the training go with the undead warriors?" Mother Fa'Langa asked.

"Very well, actually. I've already instilled in them a few of the 'ground rules,' so to speak. They are very fast learners, following every order faithfully." Rai'dley wondered what the First Mother was getting at now. It was hard to tell at times. "We should be ready to head for the surface in a day or two."

"It's good to hear that Lolth's plan goes so well. Once you reach the surface, where shall you conquer first?"

"I thought I'd head for the Lost Lands. It's a wild area, filled with the most evil and dangerous of monsters. They lack organization, but once they join our forces, they will make powerful allies. Especially once they share in 'Lolth's special gift.'"

"The lack of fear and additional strength that undeath gives will make them even more terrible, I'm sure," Mother Fa'Langa agreed. "The glory of Lolth will go with you."

"And the gods of the surface-world will fall with their believers. All glory be Lolth's."

"All glory IS Lolth's!" Satisfied with this affirmation, the First Matron Mother made her leave of the chamber, leaving Rai'dley to worry about her ruined trap.

"Damn her," Rai'dley snarled. She gave the useless device a kick across the small chamber. "I needed that life-energy!"

# 

#  Chapter 23

# Derik's Mace

The morning sun found Dak'gnu where Gerrod had left him the night before. He had difficulty considering sleep with a whole new world on his mind. The sun would rise soon; his very first sunrise. It was as if he was born anew into this strange new world. In dawn's early glow, he gazed out the window on huge trees of woody bark and billions of leaves. The sounds of birds flooded into his sensitive ears, serenading him with the songs of life. The dim, shadowy dark outlines slowly developed into brilliant colors, the likes of which he had never seen before. Bright and vibrant colors. The pale blue of sky where only stone had ever been before, the greens of plants was everywhere. The careless flickering movements in the branches would have spelled death in the cruel Underworld. Here they were everywhere; life abundant and so casual. Here a person would not be afraid to live, to move, to breathe; to be.

A fresh breath of cool air entered through the open window, and though it was bitter cold, Dak'gnu sucked it in as if it was life itself. On that air, he tasted life and smelled a myriad of wonders. His senses ignited with its beauty. So alien and strange. So wonderful and unexpected. He felt no fear, though he knew not what to expect.

The first beams of morning sunlight filtered through a thinning spot in the forest canopy. Like a burst of fire that shot straight through him, it burned into his mind. Colors exploded in the sky, as ripples of vivid pink and orange streamed out from that painful center. Such a display, it surpassed even his wildest dreams. But with that beauty came pain. His eyes burned as never before with the brilliance. He could only look on for a few minutes. He waited until the last possible moment before forcing himself to turn away.

He was used to the eternal conflict between beauty and pain. It came naturally to the world of darkness. But this pain he savored, relished. This pain was the cost of his freedom. Here, with his new friends, he would have the freedom to do what he knew he had to do. He had to right the wrong he had helped cause.

Finally admitting exhaustion from his nightlong vigil, and surrendering to the power of the golden ball of light, he retreated to the darkest corner of the cottage. The dark elf pulled his heavy black hood up tight over his head. He gained a few hours of precious sleep before the rest of them stirred to life. They had all been drained by the struggles of their escape. They slept well into late morning, longer than they would have liked.

The sleep had done Amanda well, and Allison was able to complete the healing with her spells. The rest helped them all. It soothed tired muscles, but they knew they couldn't afford to delay too long. The relief and celebration of their near escape was overshadowed by their knowledge of what was to come.

Rai'dley still had the Orb of the Righteous, and now she also had a terrible army of undead zombies to assist her. Amanda and Allison once again retold the tales of their encounters with the living dead. Shivers ran down their spines at what they would have to deal with.

"However," Amanda pointed out, "there is one weapon that has proven most powerful against this evil. It is known as the Mace of Disruption. This great weapon was crafted ages long ago by a high priest of the elven order known as Derik. The mace is known as Derik's Mace."

Everyone, sullen from the horrors Amanda's tales had spoken to them, were very much interested now. They gathered intently to hear her every word.

"The greatest and most noble paladin was named Sh'Kir. He fought valiantly, yet died in battle defending the Church of Corellon Larethian, god of elves. His defeated body was brought before Derik, the High Priest, in hopes that he could be resurrected from the dead. Only Derik himself might have known what went wrong during the sacred ceremony. Derik's concentration was disturbed, and the attempt failed.

"With the grief of elves across the lands, Sh'Kir's body was put to rest in a sacred tomb. The small cave was blessed, and holy water was spread all around. Long white candles lined the walls. They bathed the alter that would support their brave hero for an eternity in a soft glow. A fine white linen burial cloth stretched across the marble surface in preparation for the body. As the funeral march made its way up the craggy and pitching slope to the open vault, something terrible and unthinkable happened. Sh'Kir rose up from his deathbed, with an evil red glow in his sunken eyes.

"Sh'Kir was as a man possessed. He leapt from the slab that the men carried him upon, and laid waste to those who would be his pallbearers before they could recover from the shock. Those near him fled in terror, unless they were paralyzed by that fear. Those incapable of running were slain with the efficiency of none other than the paladin, Sh'Kir.

"The transformed figure seemed to relish in the kill, and thirsted for death. There was no sense to the madness of his evil. He killed at will, and with his unmatched skill with the sword, there were none who could oppose him. Unchallenged, he ran off into the woods, never to be seen again.

"Before those he slain could be put to rest, they too became animated zombie corpses. They too wandered off into the woods, presumably to search for their master, Sh'Kir.

"Derik was wrought with grief and sorrow. Not only had he lost the most valuable paladin of the Order, but also he had lost the favor of Corellon himself for his failings during the important ritual.

"Cursed and stripped of power and rank, Derik sequestered himself and entered into meditations. After two full months of nothing but constant prayers and chants, Derik was granted a vision one night during a dream. In that dream, he saw himself battling Sh'Kir with a holy weapon that glowed with the power of Corellon. Beams of holy light flooded from the head of the wielded weapon, and destroyed the massive army of zombies where they touched. Derik knew that this weapon alone could defeat Sh'Kir.

"For the next year, Derik dedicated himself to the commissioning for the Mace of Disruption. He commissioned the finest dwarven weaponsmiths. They are said to have sacrificed their own blood to be mixed in with the steel of the mace. Once crafted, it was a long, exhaustive process for Derik to convince the priests of Corellon to bless the weapon and to enhance it with the spells he requested of them.

"The priests who cast the spells felt the power of the mace. They met in secret to decide if they could claim the powerful weapon as the property of the Church, but that night, Derik snuck off into the darkness. He carried the Mace into battle. He sought out Sh'Kir. Days and weeks, and then months passed by. No one ever saw Derik or his mace again.

"Then one day, as if a sign from Corellon himself, a giant eagle darkened the skies above Crystal Meir. From his great claw dropped the Mace of Disruption. It was found and brought to the Order. The Church has kept it for safe keeping ever since. No one has ever seen either Derik or Sh'Kir since, so no one knows what really happened between the two. The High Priests say that Derik had paid his penance to Corellon, and was finally given the peace that he sought."

After long moments of silence in respect for Derik and to absorb the details of the story, Corinna was the first to speak. "Does the Church still hold the Mace?"

"I believe that it's in the Church's congeries as we speak, only a day's ride away."

"If it's such a treasured item to your Church," Ace asked thoughtfully, "would they let us take it to destroy Rai'dley's undead army?"

Amanda got a curious smile and answered, "I think they will. I've got friends in the higher ranks of the Order. They'll let us use it if I ask."

"Do you think you could wield it?" Allison questioned.

"Faith, my dear sister. The Mace of Disruption isn't wielded by men -- it's wielded by faith alone."

"Then it shall proudly do the work of Corellon in our hands," Allison beamed. "No faith is stronger than ours."

"So what are we waiting for?" Gerrod asked. "Let's go get that weapon before Rai'dley has time to make things any worse!"

Amanda turned to Dak'gnu with concern. He had been quietly listening the whole time, still cowering in the darkness of the corner. His whole head was swallowed up by the darkness of his black hood. "Will you join us?" she asked.

"I have come from my home for one reason alone," the dark figure explained solemnly, "to slay Rai'dley and to stop her evil plans. If this weapon will help us accomplish this mission, then I welcome it."

"As we welcome your company," Gerrod assured him. Everyone agreed, with the notable exception of Corinna, who tried to busy herself clearing the dishes from the table. She still had her reservations.

Cold. It was the only thing that LaBairne's body could feel, but that too was chased away by the fire that burned deep within him. Hatred. Hatred burned away whatever chill air hovered about him as he paced in the room that held him.

No bars reinforced the door. In fact, the entrance to the small cell didn't even hold a door. No barrier kept him locked up here like a caged animal, but he tested it again for himself to make sure. For the hundredth time that day, he charged the open portal as hard as he could. As he neared the archway, he once again heard those haunting words, "Wait here until I return."

His legs fell out from under him, and he couldn't continue. He crumpled to the floor as his legs melted away beneath him. He pounded the solid stone floor with his armored fist. He could not disobey that command. He knew he would wait until Rai'dley returned. Only when he accepted his imprisonment did the feeling return to his numb legs. He was once again able to stand.

His hatred flared, and he delighted in the warmth it brought -- the only relief to his painfully cold bones. He wanted to kill. While he preferred his victim be Rai'dley, he knew he would never be able to do that. He was so commanded, and would never be able to disobey her commands. But he wanted to kill. It didn't matter what it was, for the thought of any living creature outraged him with jealousy. He flexed the dried, leathery skin across his bony knuckles to form two powerful fists. He felt strength in those arms his aging body had never felt. It would be so easy to kill.

He realized that the hatred and the anger he felt was directed at himself, but there was little he could do about that. He was already dead. LaBairne couldn't get the thought out of his head. He was the one that had led his men to that terrible cavern, had taken them on the fool's errand to begin with. He was in charge, and he was responsible for the condition of his men.

He had awoken from what felt like a very long sleep, helplessly standing at attention in front of the dais in the Temple of Lolth. He stood there before the laughing Rai'dley, and saw all his men around him. Or at least what remained of them.

Unequaled hatred came across him as he realized what had happened, though at the time he barely understood it. He saw the gray skin stretched across the bones of his army, as it did his own. He saw the glowing red lights where eyes should have been. Even before he knew what it meant, he knew it was his fault. He knew Rai'dley had betrayed him, and it was his fault for trusting that manipulating mage. How could he, a man of honor, have let this happen? Help this happen? Allow himself to be used like that? How? Rage flooded into his mind and soothed all the pain away in a warm bath of self-pity. A single tear trickled down his dry cheek.

The hatred found its way to his vocal chords. They were dry and taunt. Even though they could no longer form words, his pain expressed itself in woeful laments that crudely resembled a wailing song. His voice cracked up and down in terrible screeching that sounded like two alley cats in a mating fight. The sounds reached out for any who might hear, though without words, no one would ever understand. The song echoed down the hallway that connected the individual cells, and beyond the door to the two drow standing sentry there.

Even though the two drow couldn't understand the words of LaBairne's screeching wail, it rose up and down their spines to make their skin crawl. They looked at each other, as if daring the other to go first. Finally, unable to stand the torture any longer, both men ran off together as fast as their legs could carry them. They knew they would be killed for leaving their post, but they had to escape that plaintive wail. They had never felt such fear before and prayed that they never would again.

The song lasted for many long hours. LaBairne found he never tired. He tried to think back, but couldn't recall having slept in the past two days since the transformation. He never tired. Nor did he eat or drink. In fact, he considered as if for the first time, he wasn't even breathing! It was a most strange, unsettling realization, and it only served to anger him further. Everything angered him.

LaBairne spun about to face the doorway where he sensed someone was standing. As his eyes focused on Rai'dley, he flung himself across the room at her, knowing it would be of no use. Still, Rai'dley was caught by surprise. She backed away from the door before commanding him, "Stop!" The sceptre she held carried the weight of the command, and he was helpless to refuse. His legs locked in place like the rest of his body, a mere foot from the opening of the door.

"Listen," Rai'dley commanded, composing herself. He tried to shut her words out, but they filled a void within him that hungered to be filled. He hated Rai'dley, but her words brought comfort to him.

"That is no way to greet some one who has given you so great a gift," Rai'dley chastised him.

LaBairne was confused. At first he thought she meant sparing his life, but then he understood. She meant his un-life. Rai'dley knew what had happened to him and the others. She had planned this all along. He wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. He could feel her neck between his fingers. He knew she might have some useful information, but even that didn't matter. But now, there was nothing he could do but "Listen."

"You have been granted the gift of power, and in time you will be grateful for it. There is much power in what you have become, and endlessly more to follow. You have always been a man who has appreciated power. Until now, you've never felt what real power is. Don't worry. I'll soon show you how to use it all to your greatest potential," she said with a grin.

"People will fear you, unless they have the experience to be stupid. Most will run in terror at your very presence, while others will be unable to move. These fools will become sacrifices to your power. Slay those unwilling or incapable of getting out of your way, and they shall become your allies. You are special, LaBairne. You're not just a mindless zombie like the rest of your army. You are their commander, their lord. Not a lord of men, mind you. You are a lord of zombies!

"I have taken your pathetic army of humans and given them strength and courage they have never seen. Now, under our guidance, together shall use them to conquer the world." Rai'dley patiently took great pains in outlining all of the terrible powers LaBairne now had.

And LaBairne listened. He was actually interested, and he exercised these new abilities whenever it was possible. LaBairne began to understand, and he liked it. Rai'dley knew him well. He did enjoy the power, and he was beginning to see the advantages of his new "position." He reached out to his comrades with his mind, and felt their undying loyalty. He was their lord, and they would do what he demanded of them. They would kill. He would conquer. And then he would destroy Rai'dley. "This could be good," he thought. "Very good."

#  Chapter 24

# Home Again

Corinna opened her magical bag of holding and retrieved the horses. Much to Ace's relief, they weren't any worse for wear. They were understandably a bit shaky, but after rubbing them down for a while, they were fresh and more than ready for a ride. Misty nuzzled Gerrod affectionately. Thunder, used to such handling within the bag, stood stoically while Ace found himself fending off Spade's nasty bites.

"It's not my fault, you old nag," Ace pleaded. "Weren't my idea to put that old bag over you. Besides, you wouldn't have liked what we went through, either."

Amanda's horse was a calm dapple gray she had named Smokey. Allison had cleverly named her huge warhorse Fire. Fire had a blazing red coat that lived up to its name. Standing tall and wide, he made for an impressive beast. Both horses were well natured, neither horse complaining much. They both seemed to fair well from their experience in the magical bag.

Allison offered to ride Dak'gnu on Fire. When the dark elf clumsily climbed atop the massive beast, it bore both their weights easily. While Dak'gnu hadn't ever ridden a horse before, he easily equated it to his own subterranean version. Fire provided a smooth gait, but Allison invited the muscular elf to hang onto her tightly any way. When she heeled the steed into motion, Dak'gnu was more than happy to comply.

Dak'gnu hid in what little protection his dark hooded cloak offered him, but he still found the bright rays of sun extremely painful to his eyes. He clung to Allison tightly, and refused to talk much. If it wasn't for their need to hurry, they would have waited to travel at night. But Dak'gnu said he understood, and refused to be the cause of any delay in stopping Rai'dley.

Corinna's cottage was wedged in the bottom of a protected little vale. Two steep mountain cliffs sprang up to either side, forming close rock cuts. The air was crisp and quite a bit colder than it was before they entered the Thraxton Mines so long ago. Corinna provided them with heavier furs and blankets from her stores at the cottage, and they dressed for the cold. It seemed that winter had arrived.

They followed a narrow, twisting path that ran along the bottom of the ravine. A light dusting of snow coated the ground to either side of the path, burying the plants that had passed onto their winter sleep. The trees away from Corinna's cottage and magical wards of protection had lost their leaves, and the other plants were dressed in their dreary browns. The towering gray rock faces added to the suffocating feeling of being closed in. Before long, the sun even headed under a layer of clouds, blocking what heat it had promised to provide them. A winter-chilled wind ran the course of the path, hurrying them along as if they were unwelcome visitors being shown the way out the door.

A half hour later, the narrow trail opened up to a wide expanse, exploding from the rock cut into a panoramic vista. From this observation point, they could see the surrounding mountains and wilderness for miles around. This was normally a fantastic view, but that day it provided only horror to the members of Wefpub. For as far as they could see, there was nothing but complete devastation.

The thick forests of pines, maples, oaks, and elms lay in a web of tangled trunks, all torn from the ground and tossed about. Not a tree was left standing as far as they could see. The land itself was destroyed. Gerrod couldn't imagine what force could have done such a thing, and it was terrible to think of. There were no signs of animal life left, having either fled this disaster or been destroyed in its wrath. To finish off the desolate look completely, a thick coating of snow covered everything, suffocating what might have remained. Even Dak'gnu, who dared a look out from under his dark hood when he heard the gasps of his new friends, knew this wasn't right.

"By the gods!" Ace whispered, for he didn't dare speak out loud.

"Gerrod?" Corinna asked, searching for some explanation, "What? How?"

Tears formed in Gerrod's eyes and his stomach began to churn inside. He couldn't form any words, but just shook his head in disbelief.

Allison and Amanda held their holy symbols and voiced a desperate prayer to their god. What ever this was, it didn't bode well.

They made their way in silence down the steep mountainside to where the King's Highway ran across. The usual trail they would have followed was gone, buried under wasted tree trunks. Gerrod carefully picked his way through the rubble. The low rumbling vibrations of the earth itself shook them. Misty braced herself the best she could on the precarious hillside. The earthquakes varied in intensity. They needed to wait until they were over before they were able to be on their way again. They were all thankful to reach the relatively safer plane of the paved roadway. But fallen tree limbs and trunks littered even this normally cleared venue. In many places it too proved impassable, and they had to detour around the best they could. It seemed there would be no easy ride into Crystal Meir.

They stopped and rested the horses often, finding them streams or fountains to water them in. This part of the King's Highway was amply supplied with fountains, only half of which still worked. Many people built these roadside conveniences as a means of penance to their gods. They provided cool water to the road-weary travelers.

They stopped at a shrine dedicated to Hardric Nekin, god of magic. When Dak'gnu attempted to dip his canteen into the well of pure water like the rest of the party did, Corinna abruptly stopped him.

"What's the problem?" Ace asked.

"I'm sorry, Dak'gnu," Corinna explained, "but I can't let you drink from this fountain. This is a shrine to all things magic, and for me, all things holy. I can't allow anyone to drink from here that has so little respect for magic. I've seen you toss magic around as if it were nothing, with no respect; no honor."

"M'lady," Dak'gnu stuttered, shocked, "I don't believe you understand." Corinna began to object, but Dak'gnu stopped her with a patient finger. "I cast spells much as you do. While it is true that I have some abilities that are natural to me that you would consider magical, I must work just as hard for the others as you do."

"But I've seen you -- in the hallways. You didn't even put away your dagger before you unleashed that blast that leveled those men," she argued vehemently. "And you wear this armor, shaped as a robe as it may be. By what means do you do such things if you respect magic?"

"It is true that armor is too bulky and restricting to cast spells in, and this heavy robe is no exception. That is why I must remove it before casting any spells. But that wasn't me casting that Artic Blast spell in the corridor. It was my dagger."

"A magical weapon?" Amanda asked.

"A weapon that casts spells?" Ace asked doubtfully.

"Well," Dak'gnu explained as he brandished the weapon from nowhere. "It can't just cast spells on its own of course. But it does allow me to store spells and cast them through it. That way, when I'm in the midst of battle, I can release the power of the spell as easily as I can direct my dagger."

"I've heard of such things," Allison replied, captivated with respect and awe. "In ages of old, there were once warlocks who could do that."

"That's what we call it, Warlock. They may no longer exist on the surface-world, but the art still thrives in the Underworld."

"Can I see that dagger?" Ace's mouth watered.

"Certainly, but beware -- it has a sharper edge than you might be used to." Dak'gnu handed the blade over, hilt first.

The dwarf, always an admirer of fine weaponry, held the short dagger by the handle and spun it easily on the tip of his finger. "Excellent balance!" he exclaimed, truly impressed. It took a lot for a weapon to impress Ace.

The blade was crafted of the bluish steel Dak'gnu called adamantane. It was a special metal alloy, exclusive to the drow Underworld. The blade was flame-shaped, and split open on the end in a "Y" to form two different blades. The outer edges of the blades were rounded like the blade of a scimitar. The round handle would have been quite ordinary, if it wasn't covered in intricate designs of magical runes. The symbols were so perfectly carved and so small and tightly packed, they looked like the bark of a tree.

Mounted on the end of the hilt was a large red jewel. It was dark in color and Ace was at a lost for its origin. Dak'gnu explained that it was a blood crystal, and had been colored by his own blood. He called the weapon a Soul Dagger, and claimed that it possessed his soul. Through ancient rituals, he had cast a part of his soul into the dagger. Through this extravagant arcane ritual, the dagger was bonded to him. To prove his point, he threw the weapon with marked precision. It landed with a loud "thunk" as it buried itself into a nearby dead tree trunk. In the wink of an eye, the dagger magically reappeared in Dak'gnu's outstretched hand. It left a deep slice in the wood as proof to where it had been.

Ace wasn't as impressed by Dak'gnu's mystical story as he was by the perfection of the weapon's craftsmanship. He placed the tip of the blade on the end of his finger and spun it for balance. It suddenly started to burrow into him!

"Hey! Ow!" Ace yelled, dropping the dagger to fall where it may. A thin line of blood flowed freely from the wound at the tip of his finger. Before the weapon hit the ground, however, it instantly returned to Dak'gnu's hand. He quickly sheathed the dangerous blade. After looking at the wound, he insisted that either Amanda or Allison heal it immediately.

"Awe, ain't but a scratch," Ace explained, shrugging off the healing.

"If it isn't healed immediately," Dak'gnu warned, "it will only get worse. It's the nature of the blade." Under Allison's guidance, the cut sealed shut and appeared as if nothing had ever happened. Ace bore a grumpy scowl. "I warned you to be mindful of the blade," Dak'gnu reminded him in answer to his curses.

"So how does the blade return to you?" Gerrod asked.

"Again, it's through the bond that I have with the dagger that it returns instantly at my very thought."

"If you have such powers as these, then why didn't you escape from your prison long ago? Why submit yourself to their torture?" Corinna asked skeptically.

"I may have some powers that seem truly wondrous to you, but I'm still just a male drow."

"So?" Gerrod asked, missing the point.

"So, in Mezzo'Dakmania, a male is nothing. I would have never been allowed to get out alive. Neither would any of you, if they hadn't let us go," he offered.

"What do you mean, 'let us go?'" Ace chuckled.

"It's the only explanation for such an easy escape," the drow reasoned seriously.

"That was easy?" Amanda asked.

"From Mezzo'Dakmania?" Dak'gnu raised his doubting eyebrows at her. "Very."

"But why would they have done such a thing?" Corinna asked.

"For the only reason my people do anything," Dak'gnu answered. "It was Lolth's wish."

"But why would your goddess care about us?" Allison chimed in.

Dak'gnu had to search a moment for an answer. "Maybe Lolth knows we can stop Rai'dley." As they pondered the idea, Dak'gnu brought them back to where they started. "So you see, Corinna, I have to study my spells from a book and cast them into my Soul Dagger before I can use them. I fear that most of my components won't be available on the surface. I may need your help in finding suitable alternatives."

"Oh, well of course," Corinna agreed, humbled for her attack. "I'm sorry about the fountain. It's just that magic is very important to me."

"I know," Dak'gnu answered in a gentle voice. It seemed he really did understand.

The sky grew cloudier that afternoon, and Dak'gnu drew back his dark hood. He braved his face to the shadows they found. Even that dimmed light burned and etched into his skin, but he bore it stoically.

The busy King's Highway was unnervingly quiet, and they found no company on the barren landscape.

All the rest of the day, Allison paid particularly keen attention as Dak'gnu carefully explained many facets of his life in Mezzo'Dakmania as a warlock.

It ended up taking several long, hard days of riding, and it was still nightfall before they reached the top of the northern ridge of the crater that held Crystal Meir Lake. The devastation traveled with them, and they found no relief. Several harsh storms kicked up, blowing freezing snow and sleet onto them. Lightning threatened to start the fallen timbers on fire, and in several places the earthquakes had split the King's Highway asunder with wide rifts that demanded they detour around. There was little doubt as to why they hadn't come across any other travelers.

It was with great relief that they spied the many lights of civilization. The myriad of lamplight flickering at the lake surface below reassured them that all had not been destroyed. At least in the darkness, the city had a comforting look of normalcy to it.

Crystal Meir had developed into the religious center of Carrona. The heads of all the major religions gathered there to co-operate in a powerful theocracy. In Crystal Meir, city politics, religion, and people all got along.

The most notable landmark in the capital city was the High Crystal Tower. Atop this spiraling marble tower was the Crystar, a clear crystal the size of a house. The surface of the mammoth crystal ball was cut with a million smooth facets. It was lit from below by a series of lanterns, and the many facets sent the light off in every direction. This sight lit up the entire region in an eerie glow. This was the first thing that Allison pointed out to Dak'gnu as she beamed with pride at her home. Allison and Amanda were home again.

"At last!" Algernon rejoiced as he passed through the magical gate in the subterranean tunnels. It marked the last length of the long return trip to Rai'dley's castle. Even with the help of the magical portals, the army of undead beasts they led moved agonizingly slow for the anxious young dragon.

Rai'dley's newest acquisition, the legion of zombie warriors, made the nervous dragon's hide crawl. While Rai'dley assured her powerful black mount that she had commanded the foul creatures not to harm him, Algernon couldn't help but notice the way they looked at him with death-lust in their eyes.

Beyond their being unbelievably slow and wanting to suck the life out of him, Algernon had no way of protecting himself from their foul odor. Even though the bodies of the King's Guard were animated, they were in no way preserved. The stench of their rotting flesh nauseated even the sturdy dragon.

Still, Algernon considered wistfully, they were almost home. It had been the first hopeful thought he'd had since they had left the comforts of the castle. Rai'dley held the unholy sceptre high on a pole. All the monsters behind could see its lavender light. They silently made their way through the darkness to follow that glow. For all of his complaining, Algernon realized that they moved no slower than a normal army might have under the same, lightless conditions. By not having to stop for either rest or food, they set a pace the healthy dragon was hard pressed to lead.

Rai'dley was talking with one of the zombies, and it seemed to actually be arguing back. Algernon had never known a zombie that was capable of such dangerous displays of will. Rai'dley had called this one LaBairne. Algernon could tell by the lively gestures that LaBairne made that he had an idea to go down another side passage.

"Yes, I know there are many lives that way," Rai'dley conceded. "Too many, trust me," she insisted. "In time, yes, but not yet. We'll need a larger army first. Now come this way."

Rai'dley climbed back on the ivory chariot and gave Algernon the signal to continue. She was too busy, lost in her own thoughts, to notice that LaBairne had somehow silently dispatched three of the last zombies in the army down that side passageway. Algernon noticed them as he rounded a curve in the bending pathway, but he didn't bother bringing it to Rai'dley's attention. She was in too good a mood for thinking she had gotten her way.

"After all," Algernon reminded himself, "we're almost home again."

The members of Wefpub slipped into the city under the cover of darkness. They were surprised to find an army sentry post on the road into the city. The wall to either side of the post was obviously quickly assembled and shoddily built. The guard post showed similar signs of haste and poor construction. It would provide little resistance to any organized force that might not honor its intentions. The sleepy guard wore no uniform, as there had never been any need for a formal policing agency in Crystal Meir before. As he wiped the remnants of sleep from his weary eyes, he had the look of someone who had recently been appointed the undesired post. Regardless of his current rank, Amanda and he knew each other, and they entered into conversation.

"Biz'zart!" Amanda greeted him as they rode up. The man shifted to his feet and ran his hands down to press out the wrinkles in his clothing. He was surprised to find anyone approaching his sentry, and embarrassed to have been so obviously caught off guard. Amanda paid this no attention, though. "What has happened here? Are you guarding this entrance to the city?"

"Why yes, Your Excellency!" he responded stiffly. He recognized Amanda and tried to offer her the respect of her position, though he found it awkward to do so. "At least, that is my attention, Ma'am."

"No need to be so formal, Biz'zart -- is there? I meant, why does this road need guarding?"

"You've been gone such a long time, Amanda, but certainly other parts of Carrona have suffered the same destruction; have they not? With all that has gone on, the city has been under Martial Law since Corellium. The board of Governors decided it might be best, given the Transgression. After all, we've received so many threats. . . ."

"I have been gone a long time, on a most wondrous journey," she simplified for the man. "On our way, we lost track of the days. You say this all happened last spring? What date is it today?"

"With the Ever-Winter, who could blame you for losing track of the days or even the months? Today is the seventeenth of Yondium, but the trouble really started last fall. Once that terrible early winter came, people spoke of bad omens, but no one ever could have guessed this. Once those chill winds of winter blew in, they never left. It's like the death of Carrona: winter comes, has no end. Some sages say that Nature's fury has been unleashed at last, and there is no power to balance evil's cast."

The members of Wefpub shared concerned looks. Besides this not looking at all like the middle of summer, Biz'zart had just quoted a section from Cy'nan's oracle. "Well, thank you, Biz'zart," Amanda excused them through the gate of the sentry house. "You've been very helpful," she assured him.

Dak'gnu kept his head hidden deep in his hood as he passed through. Biz'zart, still busy with Amanda, paid him no mind. "Oh, one last thing if I may, Biz'zart: what's the Transgression?"

"No one's been able to figure that out. Don't know how we'll ever do penance when we don't even know the sin!" the man shouted out as they slid off into the darkness.

No one questioned the dark figures moving along the near-vacant streets. With the glory of all the gods to protect them, Crystal Meir had never before built a wall around the city or a gate to screen visitors. All were welcome here, and pity those that meant any harm in the City of Light.

As they walked the silenced streets of the city, it was clear that the destruction that had ravaged the open countryside hadn't spared the populations either. The harsh cold winds had taken their toll on the people, and they bundled the shutters against the windows as best they could. The earthquakes had also hit the city buildings hard, reducing many of the homes and businesses to rubble, while cutting many others down to single-story dwellings where proud towers once stood. There were few buildings that escaped the destructive effects completely. It was a wonder that, through it all, the Crystar had remained tall. It was as if the very will of the people had been brought down by the unstoppable forces of nature itself.

They shuddered as the cold winds blew through them. This was supposed to have been the end of summer! It was hard for any of them to believe that they had been away so long. And then, to come back to be greeted by this, it was almost as if they had been sleeping for years.

All of the inns were filled with refugees from the shattered homes of their own citizens. The churches provided the food and other things people needed. They soon found out that there had been no trade with the other cities in months. Simple survival had become a thing to be worked for and appreciated, no longer expected.

Responding to a recommendation from a friend of Allison's, the party finally checked into a small inn after stabling and grooming their horses. Under that cover of darkness, no one noticed Dak'gnu's dark skin. After paying for the rooms, they slipped the dark elf in with Gerrod and Ace.

While the inn was quaint and small, the rooms were large and comfortable. They planned on getting a good night's sleep, which they could all use, and then wait while Amanda and Allison approached the church's High Priest in the morning. The long ride had exhausted them all, and the bright sunlight had drained Dak'gnu even more than he was willing to admit. They all found sleep easily that night, even despite Ace's loud snoring.

The zombies didn't require comfort, and Rai'dley's castle provided none. Obediently, they filed into a couple of large rooms where they were "stored" standing up. Rai'dley knew they couldn't tire of standing, but would stay there until she needed them.

LaBairne, on the other hand, required a measure of consideration. While he didn't need any comforts either, he demanded them. He had always lived a life of riches, and even now he demanded similar treatment. He did require sustenance, unlike his undead troops.

Rai'dley had ordered him to leave the ancient corpses they passed on their way alone. They were of her people that died in the same battle that had claimed her life centuries before. Even though they were little more than dry bones and dust, she proclaimed them sacred. She found within herself a loyalty. Rai'dley had thoughtfully left Do'Sol there to guard over the site. She was pleased to find him still on the job exactly where she had left him, and still alert as he could be.

Rai'dley sent some of her minions out to find fresh victims to satisfy LaBairne's requests. They had been warned that if they didn't return with something suitable, they would become LaBairne's meal. They quickly returned with several goblins. LaBairne enjoyed killing and sucking the life out of their still-warm corpses.

Rai'dley was surprised when she returned to the castle to find that even more terrible monsters had gathered there, drawn to the power of the Orb. Most often, they were the children's children of the great-grandchildren of those that had been given birth by the power of the Orb. As that ancient blood still burned in their veins, so they heard the mighty call of their birth relic.

The lich-mage wielded the power of the Orb, and so it was Rai'dley they would follow. They too hungered for her guidance, and would follow her command. As long as she held the Orb, she was their goddess. While she was impressed by how easily their loyalty came, she knew the civilized worlds wouldn't be nearly as willing to follow her.

Sated by the feast of goblins, LaBairne concentrated on his other concerns. From the privacy of his own chambers, he reached out with his mind, searching to contact the three zombies he had sent down that other corridor. He felt his mind expanding like ripples in a lake, searching to connect with his spies. Then, in the far reaches, he felt something. While he couldn't exactly tell what it was, he knew that it was something.

Using that feeling as a point of reference, he forced the energy of the ripples to swing around into the direction of his concentration. As more of the energy converged, he could feel the strong mental connection solidify into something real, concrete, and strong. It was just as Rai'dley told him it would be. That connection formed a bridge between himself and his three minions, and he tentatively stepped out across that bridge.

As his mind closed in on its target, an image came into focus. He knew that he was seeing through the glowing red eyes of his zombie soldier.

The three silent undead men, still dressed in the remnants of their golden armor of the King's Guard, hid in the shadows. LaBairne looked around the corner of the building they leaned against, and into the lantern light of city streets. This wasn't Oswegonia, for LaBairne knew every part of his own beloved city. As if he was that soldier himself, LaBairne turned his head to look around. At the other end of that mental bridge, the soldier did the same, giving LaBairne the view he wanted.

LaBairne scanned all around, identifying the scenario. He knew where his other soldiers were, and their relationship to their surroundings. There were many tall buildings, and he looked down a long, sloping hill. As he scanned for a familiar landmark, he found the one thing that would clinch the city's identity. Towering above all the other structures was a single, slender spiraled tower. Atop its form sat a large, glowing crystal ball. "The Crystar," he thought to himself. "It must be."

LaBairne had never seen the mystical structure before, but its story was known far and wide. He took a moment to behold the structure, awesome in its beauty, even at night. "So we're near Crystal Meir," he smiled, thinking of the implications. No wonder Rai'dley didn't want him to go there. She had warned him of the dangers clerics held for him and his army. They were the only ones in all of Carrona that might be able to pose a formidable threat. Even the least trained of these priests, from any of the good-aligned religions, had the ability to destroy the zombies. Their blessed holy symbols could simply drive them away. A city where holy water ran in streams wasn't a good place for an army of zombies.

The zombie lord heard voices through his distant ears, and issued a command to his automatons. Remarkably limber, even in their bulky armor, the zombies turned to the wall behind them. They found the soft mortar easy to sink their long, sharp finger bones into. They climbed the vertical surface easily. Hidden in the darkness, and clinging to the mason wall ten feet above the street below, LaBairne watched as two men walked below. They were unaware of the horror that hung just above them. The two priests walked and talked, secure that they were alone in the dark.

# 

#  Chapter 25

# The Terror Above

It was late at night when Brother Anthony and Brother Michael walked back from the library to their monastery rooms. They had taken the occasion between festivals and ceremonies to enjoy a bit of light reading. The Ha'Sadil of the great ancient philosopher Dai'Karte had proven most challenging to their views, and as they read the passages to each other, they debated the implications of the words.

As usual, the debates raged long into the night before they knew it. Facing a sunrise service first thing in the morning, they forced themselves to retire to their rooms. It was a cold night, and wrapped soundly in their thick layers of robes and cloaks, they walked the darkened streets swiftly.

The walk from the library down by the lake to their dormitory high up on the hill was a long one. As they walked, they found their conversation drifting toward their home of Oswegonia. They had traveled to Crystal Meir several years before to take up their studies, but they still considered the city they hoped to return to some day as home. That was, until recently.

"With the thief, Raygan, running the city; who knows what we'll find once our studies are done," Brother Anthony worried.

"There may be no faithful followers of 'The One' for us to spread the teachings to!" Brother Michael agreed.

"We'll certainly have our work cut out for us."

"That's for sure. I wonder how King Lonnequist was forced to give up his rule. It's hard to see anyone, especially like Raygan, gaining enough allies to assist him in his coupe."

"Not with the King's Guard in place. Do you think the rumors could be true?"

"There's no reason for Lonnequist to be so foolish as to send the guards out of the city like that. If that was the reason for his demise, then a foolish loss it was."

"Not that the city ever felt that safe under the protection of the Guard. But at least we always had the hope that they were more efficient than they seemed."

"Perhaps our faith in LaBairne's wisdom was misplaced. Otherwise, he'd been smart enough to not leave the city unprotected, King's orders or not."

"Sadly enough, dear Brother, many good people have been betrayed by that folly."

"But when the dust clears, and all is settled, we'll return and begin the slow process of recovery. The glory of 'The One' be with us," Brother Michael prayed.

"He won't let his people down," Brother Anthony confirmed.

Suddenly a great weight fell down upon them, knocking both sturdy priests to the ground. Lost in the folds of his many robes, Brother Michael scrambled to his feet. The sight of his comrade's head rolling past him greeted his efforts.

The young acolyte stuttered in horror. From somewhere above, an armored man had dropped to the ground, and using the sharpened end of his gleaming sword to lead the way, had cleanly cleft the head off his unaware friend. Showing no effects from the long fall, the man stood to face Brother Michael.

As two more men silently dropped down behind the first, the priest detected the foul stench of rotting flesh. "Zombies!" flashed in his head, and he wrestled with his own nervousness to pull his holy symbol out to protect him. The silver carved ornament reflected in the flickering street lamps, and even as it began to glow with Michael's continuing prayers, it had no effect on the attackers. He knew that priests, albeit greater in their learning than he, had been able to turn these wretched creatures away from men of good. But his faith waned as they continued their mocking advance. He closed his eyes in concentration, though he knew it wouldn't do any good. The light faded quickly from his holy symbol.

Surrounded by the instruments of evil, Brother Michael huddled in the darkness. "May 'The One' protect my soul," he cried his last, as the bronze armored horrors fell upon him in a frenzied, ruthless attack. The red lights of hatred burned brightly in their eyes. They sheathed their terrible swords, and lingered in the savagery of the kill. They tore into the soft skin of the man before them, loosening their hatred upon this living creature. They dug into his flesh with sharp, long nails, burying their digits the full depth of their fingers, raking across the young man's body with delight. As sharp as any blade, they left wide furrows where life had been before.

Back in the sanctuary of his private quarters, hidden in Rai'dley's castle high above the quiet city of Crystal Meir, LaBairne drank deep the deaths of the young priests. How dare they speak so against him and the Guard? They didn't know, LaBairne thought to himself. How could these young neophytes begin to understand what they had gone through; what he had endured. These deaths sated his appetite for now, but there would be more. Many more.

As silently as they had emerged from the old, abandoned basement, the three dead warriors returned to their hiding. The entrance to the long-forgotten tunnels had been sealed off for centuries. The rusted nails and rotting wood gave little resistance to the strength of the three undead men. They had passed through that meager covering on the way out, but only after forcing aside large stone blocks that had been placed there to seal in what had crawled into this hole so long ago. Against the combined strength of the three zombies, the stone slabs were nothing but an annoyance. Under LaBairne's distant directions, they didn't even replace them upon their retreat. LaBairne knew they would be coming this way again.

Sunrise at Crystal Meir was marked by the ringing of bells and chimes in every church steeple, calling the faithful to the first of many daily services offered. While every bell carried a different tone, some how, with all those bells going off at the same time, they didn't conflict with each other. Each bell added its own part to a wondrous symphony. Such was always the way with the myriad of religions found in Crystal Meir.

Dak'gnu sat bolt upright at the pealing of the first bell, which was close to the inn. He quickly moved from startled to amused, as he remembered his surroundings. "Old habits," he explained with a grin. Ace and Gerrod had been awake for a short while, and were equally amused by his antics. By the two swiftly drawn weapons, they were both glad just the same to not have been the one to wake him. He carefully replaced his trusted blades, and rubbed the bright light from his eyes. In the past week, he had pushed himself to withstand more and more of the burning light. He knew that he might have to face Rai'dley in the light of day. He was determined to not have his heritage be a weakness to him. He couldn't afford such a weakness if he was going to make good on his vengeance.

His accent, though severe at first, had quickly disappeared. He picked up the nuances of the modern elvish language easily, and the differences from his more ancient form of the tongue. He listened carefully to the members of Wefpub, and paid close attention to their diction. This way, he even began to recognize a few phrases of the common tongue of the Lands. Dak'gnu was very adaptable, and full of surprises, as they continued to discover.

They ordered their morn-meal in, and while they waited for it to be delivered to their room, they confirmed that Allison and Amanda had gone to the sunrise services. Corinna had gone with them, and they planned to meet with the high priest's council immediately after. Normally there would be a backlog of bureaucratic paperwork that would have to be done first, but Amanda assured them she could get right in, even without an appointment.

Given the fine quality of the comfortable rooms, Ace was surprised by the slow service of the morn-meal. When it finally arrived, a charming young elven girl delivered it. She was full of apologies. Her long golden hair was braided and coiled upon her head. Green eyes sparkled like spring buds, and her wide, toothy smile glowed brightly. It was impossible to feel any poor-ill against her. "Much apologies, please," she begged in a pleasant, lilting voice that chimed like the soft bells that had long ago subsided. "I'm afraid to report that two men have been murdered not far away, and everyone is in a buzz about it."

"A murder, so you say?" Ace asked, curiosity peaked.

"Uh, yes, sir, truly," she begged as if Ace hadn't believed her.

"Please, tell us what you can of it," Gerrod asked. He had a softer manner than Ace was capable of, and he knew the heavy-handed dwarf was bound to intimidate the poor girl if he continued with his interrogation.

"I'm afraid I don't know much to tell. They were two young acolytes from the Church of The One. It was said they looked to be walking back home last night when they were savagely attacked. The head of one was cut clean off, while the other suffered many even cruder wounds. It looked like a giant cat had gotten him, judging by the deep claw wounds he suffered." She shuddered at the image in her head. "I didn't see it myself, thank goodness, but I've heard from a number of different people. They all tell of the senseless savagery."

"A murder right here in the city of Crystal Meir; who would have thought? Thank you, Miss," Gerrod smiled warmly. "You have been very kind to take this time with us, I assure you." Gerrod pressed a large tip in the palm of her hand for her troubles.

Her smile beamed even brighter. "I assure you, gentlemen, Crystal Meir is usually a very quiet and peaceful place. I'm sure justice will be done." She nodded to excuse herself, and made for the door. She stopped at the entrance and turned to Gerrod. "My name is Breanna. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

"We will, thanks again," Gerrod assured her with a wink.

It didn't take long for Ace and Gerrod to decide to go check the situation out. Dak'gnu joined them, huddling deep in the folds of his cloak. He hid as much from the crowds of people as he did from the sun. Too many people would question his dark skin. Tales of the dark elves were well known, and his appearance in the midst of this Transgression may not bode well with superstitious folk.

The effects of the devastation, while visible last night, were made clearer in the light of day. People camped out in the streets, buildings were boarded up for safety and security, and the wreckage of civilization was everywhere. But mostly, it was reflected in the faces of the once proud people. So devout to their gods, the people of Crystal Meir couldn't begin to understand the punishment the gods had seemingly thrashed their faithful followers with. Crystal Meir, resting securely in the might of the glory of the gods, had always considered themselves the favored ones. Now, this.

They found the scene of the crime just as the girl had described it. By the time they had finished their morn-meal and found the location, ropes had been set up to protect the area and keep people away from the bodies. They studied the area the best they could, given the restrictions.

After a few moment's study, Dak'gnu pointed out a series of claw marks dug right into the stone of the wall nearest the beheaded victim. Gerrod knew those weren't the marks of a climbing cat.

They circled around the back alleys until they came out on the far side of the protected area, and Gerrod studied the ground for signs of a trail. The heavy blanket of snow, blown into the recessed corners of the back alley, left a clear and obvious track.

The alley was dark, even in the middle of the day. Towering buildings sheltered it on either side. The tracks led them to an old warehouse at the end of the alley. The building showed signs that it was long abandoned and in serious disrepair. It sat back from the street in a quiet part of town, and so it drew little attention.

By the crumbling masonry and rotting wooden window and doorframes, the old warehouse looked ready to collapse under the weight of time. Ace inspected the doorway, but was hesitant to enter the darkness within. Dak'gnu peered inside, his powerful night vision adjusting quickly. He reported no one inside, and urged the stodgy dwarf in.

They stepped inside the opened doorway, long since fallen off its hinges. Gerrod checked the rust on the hinges just to make sure. Once inside, they stood quietly in the dark a moment to bring their infravision into focus. The floor was covered in dirt and silt, the product of many years' flooding. Without a door to stop the heavy spring rains, and an unfavorable grade of the street, dirt was washed in like an uninvited guest. This muck was mixed with piles of dried leaves into plastered piles, blown neatly together by swirling breezes. Atop it all, a dusting of snow had blown in to cover the frozen reminders of warmer times so long ago.

But in that snow, there were tracks. It was an obvious trail, made by those who either didn't care, or didn't know to cover them up. The tracks were fresh and distinctly pressed. Gerrod ignited Flicker as a gentle torch, and followed the tracks carefully across the room. They traveled in a straight path, heavy boots with solid heels. There was no attempt to disguise them in the least. Gerrod moved slowly, ready for any traps that might await them. It seemed too easy.

The tracks ended under an old door that had been leaned up to cover a portal. It was a poor attempt to hide their escape. The hinges to this door had been recently destroyed, as shown by the newly torn metal. The door was short in stature, and as a back door, it indicated its original primary use by elves.

Searching the splintered door casing produced a few long bristles. They might have been the thick whiskers of a giant cat as Dak'gnu suggested, if not for their distinct red color. Ace and Gerrod looked at each other, sharing the same dreadful thought, "The King's Guard!"

They retraced their steps, marking the location of the warehouse before returning to the inn to relate these recent developments to the women.

"This might be easier than I had thought," Rai'dley mused as she looked out the window from her laboratory. From her high vantage point in the castle tower, she looked out over the devastated Lost Lands. Below her was a sea of black forms, a wriggling river of beasts that streamed toward her castle gates. Normally such an affront would have concerned her, but she knew that these were friendly forces coming in, and they would soon all be allies to her army.

The power of the Orb brought all manner of monster and foul beast to its call. The Orb of the Righteous had been used centuries before, when Rai'dley was but an apprentice. Her master, and fellow elves of "The Committee," used the Orb to create the ancestors of these beasts. It had been their goal to create an evil army of loyal followers to help them destroy the good races on Carrona. Known as the Great Elven Wars, it was an event that had molded the history of the four Lands forever. As demonstrated by this assembly of evil monsters that still walked the Lands, the repercussions had long-lasting, powerful effects.

The Orb of the Righteous had been hidden away all these years. The Council Four, a quartet of demi-gods, used the powers of the relic to control and balance the powers of good and evil in Carrona. When Rai'dley first returned to Carrona, she knew that she had to regain control of this relic. To control and master the Orb was to master all the powers of Carrona. Rai'dley knew that the Orb had the power to make her immortal. Rai'dley planned to become a goddess.

Now, Rai'dley's children returned to her: the children she helped to create centuries ago, the children of the Orb. "What a glorious sight, Algernon!" she chimed.

"Perhaps, Mistress. But what lot of good it will do you if you can't get this Orb to give you eternal powers. Have you forgotten you've only a couple more doses of elixir left? Without that elixir, you're history. No more body, no more power, no more anything."

"Yes, yes. Alright then. I know I can do this. We were so close, so long ago. Immortality was within our grasp. Then those foul good races drove us into exile. They destroyed our dragon-led armies. Those long-lived dragons were the closest to immortality we had gotten."

As if on cue, the air was filled with a terrific drone. Gusts of powerful wind blew into the open window, scattering papers and research everywhere. Rai'dley and Algernon scampered to recover the invaluable data. Rai'dley looked out the window to see a flight of a dozen giant dragons, of all colors, hovering outside. The most powerful members of the ancient evil army of terrible beasts had arrived.

From all across Carrona, they had been summoned out of their eternal slumbers. The power of the Orb called to them, reaching even beyond the realms of their sleep. They put aside their usual petty fighting amongst themselves for a common cause, the only one any of them ever could have: the Orb of the Righteous.

"We have come, Mistress," a giant red who led the pack bellowed into the wind.

"Then land and join us, dear friends. Your might is welcome, your powers are needed," Rai'dley invited, smiling beside herself. A million dreams, plans, and schemes flashed through her wicked mind. "This could be wondrous," she thought to herself.

Algernon waited until the last of the flight of dragons landed a safe distance away, and the winds had died down, before he came up to whisper in his Mistress's ear at close range. "Are you mad? This can't be a good thing!"

"What on earth are you talking about? This is the best news yet. Imagine the effect when the dragons of Carrona once again fly against the good people of this world! They will flee before the great armies of Rai'dley! Now, they have no choice but to succumb to me and my power."

"But with all due respect," Algernon continued to protest, "my brethren aren't like me. I'm as loyal to my Mistress as the day is long. My fellow draconian seek only power for themselves. They are greedy, and will never be able to serve you as I do. I beg of you, don't invite them into this scheme. They will only exploit your trust."

"Why Algernon!" Rai'dley came back playfully. "I do believe that you're jealous. Don't worry, my friend, you'll always be my closest of allies."

"But you don't understand!" he implored, "They're REALLY evil!"

Rai'dley looked at the dragon skeptically as if to see whether he was joking. "My darling, we're ALL evil -- that's what makes us such good friends!" When Algernon didn't seem to appreciate this, Rai'dley tried to soothe him more. She went to him and stroked his neck and flanks gently. "Why, Algernon! You're shaking! Perhaps you aren't jealous after all. You're frightened. Well don't worry, my pet," she kissed him gently on the tip of his snout, "Your Mistress will make sure those big old dragons don't hurt her precious little baby."

Algernon gave up trying to reason at that point, or rather gave into the sensual caresses of the woman. She stroked him under the chin, which forced his eyes to close tightly, and something akin to a cat's purr rolled up from deep within him. Rai'dley could always win any argument this way, and they both knew it.

Despite Algernon's wise counsel, within a few days, Rai'dley had prepared the flight of evil dragons for experimentation. She would never be satisfied with their own terrible, destructive nature. She endeavored to indoctrinate them into the ranks of the undead. Her work on the Orb for her own benefit, finding the key to granting her immortality, went aside in her mad quest to build this impossibly evil force.

Algernon tried to take care of her, reminded her of her deterioration, which was inevitable without further doses of the elixir, but she refused to listen. Without the regenerative properties of the elixir of preservation, the dead body she inhabited began to deteriorate as a normal rotting corpse. After a few days' time, she could no longer pass herself off as the beautiful, young mage Rai'dley; her true lich nature began to show through as the decaying flesh peeled off her frame.

As this process continued, it became more difficult for Rai'dley to consider going back to her former self. As her confidence and army grew, so did her acceptance of her existence as a lich, and she dropped the facade of that other beautiful being. The world of the living no longer concerned her; and this concerned Algernon. As a living creature, it was only a matter of time before he no longer interested her either.

Algernon began to question the wisdom of his continued loyalty.

Leaving saddened him more than he thought it would, and not just because he wouldn't be able to take everything he had set his eyes upon. He realized, that night he slipped out the castle balcony, that he had actually become attached to this elven female. For years Rai'dley had been a good companion to him; a trusted friend. He would miss her company, but then it would never be the same. Of course he took what he could carry, and a little bit more, but the lich would never miss it. He only hoped that, somehow, she would miss him.

# 

#  Chapter 26

# The Flight of Death

"That was beautiful, Amanda. Just beautiful!" Corinna said, fighting back a stream of tears that fought to run down either cheek. She watched with utter delight as the last of the processional filed out the back of the cathedral, ending the fantastic display that was the sunrise service. Corinna felt more energized and exalted than she had in a long time. The holy ceremony had as great an effect on her as it had any of the elves assembled in that church. Corinna's spirit had always been more closely aligned with that of the elves than the humans of her own race. The inspiration she felt from this ceremony for Corellon Larethian, god of all elves, just proved it.

"You've the heart of an elf, Corinna," Amanda said with a smile. "Now come, we'll see the High Priest's Council. They are in attendance until the noon rituals."

Amanda and Allison led Corinna through the twists and turns of the labyrinthine church complex. They passed from the wider, public corridors and into the narrower passages into the deeper bowels of the church. The level of decorative detail did not diminish as they passed out of the public eye. The entire monastery flourished with graceful sweeping arches and delicately carved pillars. But even here, in this sacred temple to a powerful god, the effects of the earthquakes were severely felt. Many of the tall towers and columns were now supported by braces and scaffolding. Crumbling rockwork rained through cracks cut deep into walls a hundred years thick. It seemed nothing was immune from the terrible powers of nature itself. But they all knew these earthquakes were anything but natural.

The chamber of the High Priest's Council was a decadent room, lavishly furnished with giant tapestries hung on the wall. Chandeliers of a hundred candles floated on the ceiling. But even Corinna noticed the cracks in the walls behind those magnificent tapestries. The Council, all proud and serious men alike, carried on their business as if they were unaffected by the catastrophes around them.

When the group of three women entered, the men of the Council stood to greet them. "Amanda, Allison! How good to have you back!" the most senior of the elves met them from the head of the wide oak table. "We weren't expecting you. We didn't even know you had returned to Crystal Meir."

"We arrived just last night. We roomed in the Crystal Dragon," Amanda said, kissing the man ceremoniously on both cheeks.

"You should have come up. We would have found some place for you here. As you can see, we as everywhere else, are bearing our burden. There are so many people in need. . . we're trying our best to help them."

"We're with friends," Amanda explained, and motioned to Corinna. "This is our good friend Corinna of Oswegonia. Together with our other companions, we've been on a great quest." Amanda began her tale.

The head of the High Priest's Council invited them to sit. Amanda took a place at the great oak table, where she looked surprisingly comfortable. Allison explained to Corinna, as they took their seats against the wall behind her, that Amanda was indeed a member of the High Priest's Council. Allison always had a chair prepared for her behind her illustrious sister, and another was made available for Corinna. They sat in the opulence of that meeting room while Amanda pled their case.

Amanda told her tale, uninterrupted by her patient fellow Council members. She spoke eloquently, with the style and grace of a lady. Her story was filled with just enough drama to keep the men of the Council amazed and attentive, but the lengthy tale flowed smoothly and quickly, expressing the points most important. She eventually told of their flight from the drow city, and how they were aided by the drow elf Dak'gnu. She told of Rai'dley's plans, and the creation of the terrible undead army. She concluded with the reason they had returned to Crystal Meir, in search of the ancient weapon: Derik's Mace.

The Council pondered shortly to meditate on all that had happened to their friends. They led a prayer of thankfulness to their god for the safe return of their gifted members, but there was never any consideration whether to give them the weapon or not. A runner was dispatched to retrieve the artifact from the archives of the church, while the Council offered more assistance. They understood the import of their mission, and agreed that this Orb of the Righteous must be responsible for the cataclysms.

They explained how Crystal Meir has received a number of angry threats from all the capital cities of the Lands. It seemed no one anywhere was spared from the wrath of the gods. Crystal Meir, being the center of all the religions, was held responsible for whatever had happened in the gods' views. As leaders of their people, the Council certainly felt every bit the pain and agony inflicted upon the world. Only now, they considered, it may not be their fault at all. With the first sign of something that they might be able to do about it, they were more than eager to put forth whatever may be needed to end this trial.

The messenger returned eventually, with an entourage that escorted the great weapon of honor. It was sealed in a case of intricately carved mahogany that sported a fresh coating of fine oil to ward off the dust that had surely gathered on it over the years. The head of the High Priest's Council accepted the wooden box and set it on the grand oak table. All of those in attendance gathered around in reverent awe when the case was opened, and the mystical weapon was pulled out.

Derik's Mace gleamed in the constant light of the candle chandeliers. No dust would penetrate the clerical seals of protection that were placed on the box decades ago, and the weapon shone in all the glory it possessed in those ages gone by. It was created of shining black steel, with bright silver studs that screamed for the taste of undead. Faint runes etched in blue covered the face of the weapon, and the weapon was glorious to behold.

Ceremoniously, Amanda rose from her seat at the High Priest's Council, and approached the head of the table. The man, dressed in the robes and vestments of his honorable position, presented the weapon to her. The intelligent weapon felt Amanda's devotion, her love of her god, the god it was created to serve, and glowed brightly in her grip. It flashed with a brilliant light, waves of Corellon's power, and there was no question that the weapon was in the right hands.

Awe-struck, Corinna and Allison joined Amanda at her side. They left that meeting hall with not only the fabled Derik's Mace, but also the allegiance of a hundred priests of Corellon Larethian, willing to advance on the wicked undead army of Rai'dley. Armed with their weapons and their holy symbols, they vowed to form a unified force that would obliterate the forces of evil.

When the women returned to their room at the inn, they found the men waiting for them in their room next door. They excitedly relayed what had happened at the Council meeting, and in similar grand fashion, Amanda produced the wonderful weapon.

With a huff, Ace took the heavy mace for examination. He swung it around a couple of times, feeling its weight as he did his axe. He swung the weapon clumsily, not used to the delicacies needed for handling the likes of this type of weapon. His movements were timed for the slashing of a blade, not the sound thud of a blunted weapon. Not impressed, he handed it back to its owner unceremoniously as a reject. "Not much to it, if you ask me. Needs more heft and longer spikes. I could fix it up for you, if you'd like," he offered with a nasty smile.

Amanda took the mace back protectively, even though she knew he was kidding. Ace never could appreciate the grace of the weapon. "Now if we only had any idea where to take our own army of priests against Rai'dley. Who knows where they'll show up."

Gerrod got a wicked grin, and he shared knowing looks with the dwarf and dark elf. Now it was their turn to tell of their interesting morning. Gerrod told the women of the murders, which horrified the sisters, and of their ensuing investigation. He told of the back alley and the old warehouse, and ended by producing the thick straw from the helmet of the King's Guard. The logic flowed for the women as it had them, and they knew where they had to begin their search.

Rai'dley noticed Algernon's absence, but had little time or inclination to fret over him. The prospects of recreating these dragons in her own undead image thrilled her as few other challenges had. Here was her chance to prove that she was capable of god-like powers, reforming life into new creations. It would be just as she had, so very long ago, when I created the dragon races from the lizardmen we captured. "It's a new generation," she told herself, "and time for a new generation of dragon."

Once transformed into undead creatures, the dragons would be better than before, even more terrifying and deadly. Their undead forms would be immune to all sorts of attack, and they would be the diamond-head of her attack. But more, they would be liches like her. The great and powerful dragons' wills were far too strong to be squashed into the likes of a zombie. Besides, most of their strengths would be wasted in such a feeble form. But as a lich, they would be magnificent.

It cost each dragon a hefty amount in the form of their most valued and prized gems, but even this paled in comparison of the "gift" Rai'dley promised to give them. Each of the six gladly paid their dues to become a part of this club. Strange and obnoxious brews were carefully concocted for each of them, and a complicated series of magical spells were applied in an exactly pre-ordained order. No guarantees were made, and none needed, as the powerful beasts ingested the disgusting potions.

Pain wracked and heaved through the dragons, sending them into spasms on the ground. They thrashed about, threatening to level the castle and flatten the lich-mage who observed the proceedings. Within minutes, all six dragons laid dead. "What have I done?" Rai'dley questioned, but she trusted in her magic, and knew that patience was in order. It had taken her a minor miracle from a goddess and three hundred years to come back. An hour or two didn't seem so very long.

It took a while to gather the priests together, but by late that afternoon, they had all those promised, plus many more from other good-aligned religions. They explained that there was once a large complex maze of twisting caverns and tunnels under the city of Crystal Meir. During the Great Elven Wars, it was these tunnels that "The Committee," or the original descendants of the drow, had hid. The allied forces of good at that time, with representatives of all the races, had driven the army of evil beasts into these caverns, and far into the bowels of the earth. They had then sealed up all of the entrances and had summarily forgotten about the tunnels, and "The Committee."

The priests gathered around the old warehouse, and filed into the opening, led by Dak'gnu and the members of Wefpub. They found, as reported, a very large and confusing maze of tunnels. It took Dak'gnu's expert abilities and familiarities with underground tunnels to find their way through. But occasionally, they would find a dusty boot print or some other sign of recent passage, and knew they were on the right track.

Surprisingly, the tunnels didn't just head down as was believed, but often had an uphill grade to them, heading up into the bowels of the great Bellows Mountain. Most of these tunnels had been carved by molten lava back in the early days when Carrona was still being formed. The entire Crystal Lake was the bowl of the ancient volcano that had risen up out of the sea to form the island continent.

It seemed, or so it was pointed out by one of the priests learned in ancient history, that it was the Orb of the Righteous itself that had been thrust down by the gods into Thear's oceans that had created Carrona to begin with. Of course all of this was ancient lore, but if this same Orb was responsible for the creation of Carrona, it could certainly be responsible for its destruction.

It seemed they were often reminded of this fact, as they felt the now all-too-familiar shaking of the earth, and the precarious falling of dirt, dust, and occasional pieces of the tunnel ceiling. Given the age of this labyrinth, a cave-in was not unlikely, Dak'gnu reminded them.

They came to a particular fork in the tunnels, where a wide path led up a steep grade and through a large cavern, and the other direction wound its way down, deep into the darkness. Dak'gnu sat and pondered the options for a long time. "You okay?" Gerrod asked, worried by his friend's uncomfortable expression. "Do you know which way to go?"

"Home is that way," Dak'gnu offered with a nod of his head toward the deep tunnel. "It calls to me, even from here." His eyes were locked down that path as if he could see the shimmering purple lights of Mezzo'Dakmania from there. "We go this way," he said, pulling himself away from what he knew could never be. He headed up the steep incline, around the winding cavern.

Dak'gnu stopped again after entering another large cavern. Gerrod could tell this was a huge room. "Now what?" he asked. Dak'gnu stepped sideways to offer Gerrod the same view he had. "Oh, I see," Gerrod said, understanding the drow's hesitation.

"What is it?" Ace asked.

"There's a very large chasm up ahead. It must be two hundred foot wide, and the gods know how deep."

"Well how do you reckon we could cross the likes of something like that?"

"The good news is that there's an arch of stone that's spanning the gap."

"Why that's good. We can just march right across it then."

"The bad news is: the arch is only a foot wide."

"Now that is bad," Ace admitted.

"Not so very bad," Corinna interjected. "I can get everyone across." Everyone stepped aside to let the adept mage through. Ace tended to drift back farther than necessary, just in case.

With a magical gesture and a phrase or two of the arcane language of magic, a shimmering archway appeared on their side of the bridge. In a few moments, and a repeat of the gesticulations, an identical portal appeared on the other side of the bridge. "Voila!" Corinna announced proudly, "a magical bridge."

"Thanks but no thanks, Corinna," Ace said, shivering at the thought. "I'd rather not, if it's okay with you."

"Now Ace," she consoled him, "there's no other way to get across. It's perfectly safe. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I trust ya', Corinna. You know I do," he spat on the ground. "It's the magic I don't trust."

"So how do you plan on getting across?" Dak'gnu asked, amazed by the dwarf's stubbornness.

"There's a stone bridge right there. Don't see nothing wrong with that," he argued.

"But Ace, it's too narrow," Gerrod insisted.

"I trust in the stone," he said with a certainty that allowed no questioning.

"All right, you stubborn old fool," Corinna huffed. "We're going across, with or without you."

Knowing there was nothing else they could say that would convince their friend, the rest of Wefpub led the army of priests through the magical portal while the spell was still in effect. As soon as they entered on one side of the oppressing chasm, they arrived on the other. "See, Ace? Nothing to it!" they encouraged him from the other side.

Ace crossed his arms in front of him defiantly, as the rest of the troops passed by him. They didn't snicker or make any derisive remarks, despite the dwarf's obviously foolish convictions.

As the last of the priests filed through the magical portal, Ace removed a long coil of rope and tossed one end through. It appeared just a few feet on the other side of the bridge, impossibly far for the short length he had let out. He then ordered Corinna to "drop that blasted doorway," and she did so.

On the other end of the rope, Gerrod pulled the slack tight, and the coil of rope reached across the chasm. Ace tied his end around his heavy girth, tight under his armpits, just to be sure. With the fleet-footedness of a mountain goat, Ace stepped out onto the stone archway, carefully balancing himself like a tightrope walker. Fortunately for the rotund dwarf, he had a lot more than that to work with. With Gerrod constantly taking in the slack, Ace was across the obstacle in no time, beaming in pride. The priests cheered the man's nerve.

"See? Told ya' it weren't no problem," he huffed, taking back his coil of rope.

Within minutes, the troops of priests were back on the path, winding ever upward into the belly of Bellows Mountain. The men, still of good morale, enjoyed the break from their long march.

# 

#  Chapter 27

# A Festering Wound

With the anticipation of an anxious mother, Rai'dley checked the magically imbued crystal gems. Each dragon had chosen their most valuable and best quality jewel to serve as their spirit host until the powerful dragon spirits could return to their dead bodies. She smiled, pleased with the gentle warm glow that promised their success. Elation turned to bitter disappointment as the light from one of the stones dimmed, faded, and then blinked out completely. It was one of the green stones, for one of the two green dragons. She picked the vessel up and shook it violently, as if to encourage its life to return. It didn't.

She examined the precious gem carefully. It represented thousands of platinum pieces in value, but it was worth much more than that to her. With the scrutiny of a gem-cutter's eye, she found the problem. A hairline fracture had developed along one of the gem's natural facets, rendering the stone useless. It was flawed, imperfect. Disgusted, she threw the rock against the wall where it shattered into a million shards. The green dragon was dead forever.

It seemed like a millennia before the other dragons were ready to make their slow recovery. She paced back and forth in the large room, making her way around the behemoth corpses of the rotting dragons. They began to acquire a foul, acrid odor, but she enjoyed the aroma. These were her children, and the smell was that of baby powder.

Rai'dley fretted over the corpses and the stones, agonizing over the careful timing. "Is it time yet?" she'd ask herself, but then continue her nervous pacing. She knew that if she didn't allow the spirits enough time to coalesce on their own in the sanctuary of their host, the whole experiment would be ruined, and all her children would be forever dead. Patience was not one of Rai'dley's best qualities. She finally convinced herself she had to do it, and checked the preparations again for the thousandth time. At Rai'dley's magical command, and a thunderous boom of magical energy, the strong dragon spirits burst back into their own bodies.

At first the huge dragons were like newborn foals, having to acquaint themselves once more with the balance and mechanics of their bulky, awkward bodies. But when the bright pinpoints of red light flared into their empty eye sockets, Rai'dley knew that they had all successfully crossed over. Her children had been reborn.

The evil dragons cared little about the demise of their comrade, the great green. Even its own mate barely considered it momentarily before it too was distracted by its new powers. Like a child at Winter Festival, it couldn't wait to see what wonders awaited it. The huge children were eager to go out and use their new powers.

The dracoliches adapted quickly to their own bodies, and were soon able to fly once more. Their bodies had deteriorated little during the internment of their spirits in the magical gems. Enough of their rotting, delicate wing membrane remained for them to maintain flight. In time they would replace their failing, decaying, fleshy wings with powerful magical spells that would keep them airborne forever, but until then, they were happy to be winging it around the area surrounding the Lost Lands.

This thrill of undeath didn't last for long. The evil creations longed to expand and try their other powers. They sought the terror they filled mortal creatures with, the screams of victims, and the euphoria of showing absolutely no mercy. They enjoyed the stark terror their presence alone could cause, and the paralysis of weaklings whose bodies refused to co-operate with their own wills. How they enjoyed victory.

It didn't take much to convince Rai'dley they were ready to begin this war in earnest. LaBairne had been busy during this time creating even more undead beasts to add to his sprawling army, and with the flight of death flying high above, there would be little to stop them. Rai'dley sent orders to gather all of her dark forces around her, and they assembled into formation at her castle gates. The time had come.

There were few tunnels off to either side as the band of priests and small party followed the ever-winding trail upward. They moved in good spirits, eager for the fight they knew was ahead, but began to get winded from their exertion.

Dak'gnu led a steady pace, but always with his mind pulled in two opposite directions. At the same time his mind was ahead of him concentrating on the terrible evil he had permitted, Rai'dley and the army of zombies, but a part of him was back down that descending trail to his exiled home of Mezzo'Dakmania. That fork in the road would be something that would always pull him, but he forced himself onward, knowing he had made the only decision he could; the right one.

Lost in his thoughts, Dak'gnu was almost caught unaware by a sudden attack. Almost. Operating on pure instincts, he jumped back, pressing his body into Gerrod behind him. Dak'gnu was barely missed by the pointed blade of a sword. Within a blinding flash of tensed muscles, Dak'gnu made a guarding block with his left arm, even as his Soul Dagger magically appeared in his ready grasp. The dagger rang with the tip of another weapon, deflecting the impossible second attack. Without a moment to lose, Dak'gnu drew his long sword that had lazily rested in its sheath at his hip, and he was ready for the battle.

The attacker, instead of pressing the attack while the momentum of the battle was on his side, backed off across the room, almost as if fleeing from the one he attacked. On the opposite side of the chamber, he spun around, a renewed lust for the fight burning in his eyes.

Likewise, instead of pressing into his retreating attacker as he knew he should, Dak'gnu found himself falling back in shock and horror. "Are you all right?" Gerrod asked, steadying the warrior on his shaky feet.

"I'm okay, Gerrod," he reassured him. "I was just surprised. What ever you do, don't allow anyone to interfere. I'm afraid this is a personal battle; and it's mine."

With that said, Dak'gnu settled back down into the conflict at hand. From the attacker's place on the other side of the chamber, Gerrod recognized the dark black skin and shocking white hair of a drow warrior. He wondered, "Had this warrior been sent to stop us?"

From the warrior's many wrinkles and manner, Gerrod guessed that he was much older than Dak'gnu, which spoke volumes about its skill and experience. It handled the curved-bladed weapons with a grace and elegance that reminded Gerrod hauntingly of Dak'gnu's own style with the blades. The warrior advanced evenly with Dak'gnu, back into the battle. His eyes glowed fiercely with the red points of infravision burning in his sockets. The flickering torchlight bothered it little.

In a dazzling display of skill on both sides, Dak'gnu engaged the drow warrior in a fine dance that was sword-play at its finest. As Ace, the rest of Wefpub, and even the priests pressed in to get a view of the spectacle, Gerrod reminded himself this was not play. Any of the razor-sharp blades could deal a deadly blow, and as quickly as the conflict started, it could be over.

Still, it seemed that Dak'gnu was being very cautious. The ranger saw openings he knew the quick drow could take advantage of, but he seemed reluctant to press the even rhythm of his dance. Dak'gnu was doing more than fighting for a victory or his life, he was carefully studying his opponent.

Gerrod had seen Dak'gnu mow his way through dozens of drow warriors in their escape from Mezzo'Dakmania. Even though this particular opponent seemed much more experienced and a far better fighter than those they had faced earlier, Gerrod was confident that Dak'gnu was being overly conservative. Dak'gnu struck out wide, bringing his opponent's blades out to parry the attack, but instead of moving quickly for the inside strike, he simply watched as the man reacted, as if amazed.

Dak'gnu made dozens of minor hits, but it didn't seem to slow the constant and steady assault of his enemy. The stern drow warrior took the painful hits on his exposed flesh without reaction. Though Gerrod knew the wounds to be painful, the straight-faced drow warrior refused to grant the satisfaction of expressing his injury. Gerrod noticed, too, that even the deeper wounds refused to bleed. He considered Dak'gnu's acceptance of the punishment from the drow priestess's whip and considered this constitution to be a peculiar trait of drow. But then he also remembered the magical collar Dak'gnu wore that he claimed gave him constant regenerative powers. This was a device, he explained, used to prolong the amount of torture and agony that could be inflicted on him before he passed out. This particular drow warrior sported no such collar.

The battle continued for several long minutes, with Dak'gnu showing signs of fatigue, but neither seemingly willing to advance the fight to a more active level. What ever seemed to be holding Dak'gnu back from this fight also seemed to restrain the warrior as well.

Finally, as if not able to continue this farce much longer, Dak'gnu launched into a risky set of moves that taxed his remaining reserve of energy. He swung the long sword fiercely, and followed through with the quick dagger. While he found the long sword pushed aside in a carefully orchestrated defensive block, the dagger managed to dart in, twisting and weaving an unpredictable path, and slide neatly between the drow warrior's ribs.

The blow was a lethal one, plunging deeply into the heart muscle of the warrior, and twisting around to puncture a lung. With all reason, the man would drop to the ground and die before Dak'gnu could pull back the blade. But this wasn't a reasonable fight. Despite the grievous wound, the warrior fought on, still refusing to slow or even acknowledge the success of the strike.

Dak'gnu didn't seem surprised any longer. He made another carefully planned attack, this time varying the swings. This time he jabbed in with the dagger, followed by a sweeping move that required the drow's second blade to counter. This dazzling move left the warrior off balanced, and with no weapon to block the long sword as it flew a delicately aimed arc across the dark-skinned man's throat. It sliced a thin line into the flesh. The weight of the blade severed through the man's spine, and carried it cleanly out the other side.

The drow's head sat there a moment, balancing precariously on the slender neck as if deciding whether it wanted to fall or not. It finally rolled off to the side, accepting the fate of gravity. With the unforgettable sound of a dull thud, it struck the solid floor of the chamber, even as the rest of the body sunk to meet it there. The battle was won, but Dak'gnu felt no relief or satisfaction in the skillful victory. He too sank to the floor. His body collapsed on that of the fallen warrior, and he openly wept.

Bitter tears streaked down either cheek, his heart-felt sobs coming in heaps and gasps. He was visibly shaking as Gerrod and his other friends came to him and comforted him for what ever upset him so. In time he was able to collect himself from such a state Wefpub had never seen him in. He picked up the grisly head by either side of the helmet that still protected the skull, and looked into the now darkened eye sockets. Gerrod noticed for the first time that the sockets were empty, robbed of the infravision-seeing eyes he thought it had. Dak'gnu handled the head respectfully, and delicately set it back down on the top of the neck, as if trying to reconnect it to the body.

He bid help in standing, and it came from all around, as Gerrod, Ace, and Allison lent hands and shoulders to help prop their friend to his feet once more. With the remainder of his dignity, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and sheathed his great weapons before choosing to speak.

Impatient for the answer to the question that begged everyone, Ace blurted it out, "Who was that man?"

Dak'gnu considered the dwarf with earnest, as he did everyone gathered around him. He measured the safety of those there in that room before deciding he couldn't be in the company of any he trusted more. "That man was my father."

Without further explanation, Dak'gnu ceremoniously stretched the body out. He folded the arms and weapons of the warrior on his chest and drew shut the eyelids over the empty sockets. He voiced a short prayer that was respected with silence by all those there. He kissed the tips of his own fingers, and pressed them gently to the forehead of his kinsman. The short ceremony completed, he efficiently checked the area for things he might have dropped or forgotten, before readying himself to continue their journey.

The large chamber offered little but the remnants of a dozen charred and decomposing skeletons. Once proud people like his father, these people were now little more than dust on the floor. In time, Dak'gnu's father would join their ranks. Dak'gnu was respectful and careful not to disturb any of these remains. He searched the area carefully and, once assured that was all that was there, renewed his march.

Unsure how to help their stoic friend, or even if he needed help, the members of Wefpub followed the dark elf as he renewed his climb up the trail. Allison pressed ahead of the group, to come up behind the quiet drow. "I take it you and your father didn't get along?"

Dak'gnu didn't answer her at first. He continued to walk, face forward, pace unwavering. Allison, never afraid to make a pest of herself, was ready to repeat her question when Dak'gnu drew in a deep breath. He knew there was no use in ignoring her; she wouldn't go away.

"He wasn't actually my father; he was closer to me than my real father. He was to be my father-in-law, Do'Sol. I haven't seen him in almost a year," he explained. "The last time I saw him, he was tortured and killed by Mother Fa'Langa, right before my eyes. He had been used as an example, just to show me what she was willing to do. She never had to do it: I always knew what she could do."

"That's terrible," Allison agreed. "But if he died over a year ago, then how --"

"Rai'dley," he answered her unasked question. "That back there wasn't Do'Sol, but the animated corpse of Do'Sol. That was a zombie of Rai'dley's creation."

"It didn't fight like any zombie I've ever seen," Allison protested.

"It wasn't like any zombie you've ever seen. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Your King's Guard isn't just a bunch of zombies. They still retain all the fighting and weapon skills they ever had. They can attack with the swiftness of their experience, and use whatever tricks they have ever mastered. They are immune to fear and all of the other things that make zombies bad, and are just as willing to carry out their instructions. They're smart enough to do more than simple things like guard and attack; they can carry out more complicated missions. What ever force the King's Guard was before, they just got worse by ten-fold."

"I see," came her profound reply. "So tell me about your father-in-law. He seemed like quite the accomplished fighter."

"Do'Sol never got to be my father-in-law: I never married. But he was my mentor and the First Male of the Second Family. He was one of the best swordsmen in all of Mezzo'Dakmania, and was the pride of the Second Family, Fa'Langa." Dak'gnu seemed to brag, his face was full of reminiscent pride.

"Wasn't Mother Fa'Langa the First Mother? Is she your mother?"

"No!" he came back a bit too harshly. He moved to apologize, but Allison let him know that it wasn't necessary. With great control, he continued his story.

"I come from the family of Myn'Gotha, former First Family. First Family, that is, until that night."

"What night?" Allison asked, almost afraid to disturb the haze of memories that flooded back on her friend.

"The night that I betrayed the Family Myn'Gotha. The night the Family Fa'Langa slain my family, and she became First Mother."

"Maybe you should start at the beginning. How did you betray your family?" Allison's interest was genuine, and Dak'gnu needed to tell his story to someone. He had held it to himself, hidden it in his shame for so long, that it demanded to be told.

"That priestess who tortured me with her whip before we made our escape was Fa'Sol, my intended wife. She was a member of Family Fa'Langa, the Second Family, and our union was to strengthen both our Families. Her father, Do'Sol, took me in as his pupil. He taught me the ways of the warlock and I was his prodigy. He even helped me create my Soul Dagger. I never loved Fa'Sol near as much as I cared for her father. He was closer than my own.

"In fact, it seems, I never got along well with any of my own family. If there was ever anything we all agreed on, I don't know what it was.

"Then one day, while out patrolling the outer rim of the city, I came upon this surface elf by the name of Rai'dley. I didn't slay her as I should have, but rather led her into the city. She claimed to be related somehow to the elves that originally formed the drow race, and she was treated as a queen; at least by Family Fa'Langa. They believed her claims, where my own family did not. Having been the one who discovered her, I too wanted to believe in her, and so I was quick to side against my mother.

"I suppose it was a typical drow move, though I've never been able to excuse myself so easily. I saw that Mother Fa'Langa promised a better and stronger First Family than my own, I respected Do'Sol and wanted him to be in the First Family, and I accepted Rai'dley where my own family never would. So on one night, I betrayed my family. I sought out Mother Fa'Langa, and gave to her the secret passwords to get through my family's magical defenses. I let them in the door, and they slain all of my family, all but me. I wish now that they hadn't spared me.

"As soon as Mother Fa'Langa was established as the First Mother, I was an outcast. Call it shortsightedness, but I was no longer considered a person, being a male without a family to claim me. I was no longer acceptable as a husband for the daughter of the First Family. Furthermore, not being a member of the Ruling Families, I was no longer suitable to be the student of the First Male, and Do'Sol was ordered to stop my teachings.

"The man loved me as much as I him, and so in secret, we met for our daily bouts. It was during one such lesson that we were discovered. He was disgraced for defying the demands of the First Mother, and likewise removed from the ranks and privileges of the First Family. We were locked up in the dungeon together, both tortured. We shared the pain and the agony together. This only served to tighten our bond. This closeness infuriated Mother Fa'Langa.

"One day, she came into the dungeon, released Do'Sol from the very shackles that held Gerrod, and killed him before me. 'You shall be taught no more!' she cried at the top of her lungs, and with that, took away the one thing that ever really meant anything to me in all of Mezzo'Dakmania.

"Little did I know when I met that frail, exhausted surface-elf there on the outer rim of the city that she would prove to be so terrible -- the bane of my existence. I hate her as much as I do Mother Fa'Langa, if not more so. At least I should have known better with Mother Fa'Langa: she was just being a drow mother. But Rai'dley took advantage of me, lied to me, and cheated me out of everything I've ever cared for. I vowed to myself, on the day that Do'Sol was murdered, that I would avenge his death. It seems now that I have to do it all over again. Rai'dley must be stopped."

So concentrated was he on his cathartic story, Dak'gnu never realized that he had stopped his march and that the small army of priests had gathered around him and started setting up camp. When he finished his tale, to the crowd of those who had gathered around to hear the telling, he was embarrassed. Allison begged him not to be, and somehow, he just couldn't refuse.

They camped only long enough to rest and eat, and once again settled down to the hard climb. Dak'gnu's tale only inspired them onward. They all felt for the strange elf, and wanted him to have his revenge. They had all felt the pride and dignity of his mentor, and wanted this victory for him just as much. But mostly, they knew that only by defeating Rai'dley and reclaiming the Orb of the Righteous, would they be able to restore peace and order to their troubled world. The fate of Carrona itself depended on them.

# 

#  Chapter 28

# The Queen of Death

The gate of Rai'dley's castle looked out over the valley floor. Tall craggy mountains burst up on either side, where phenomenal volcanic forces had them centuries ago when Carrona was first created. These large tectonic plates shifted uneasily now, rising and falling with the restless heaving of the forces of nature. It was as if the lands themselves were waiting to see how the promised battle would turn out. Some of the beasts gathered there looked about nervously, but the throng of undead creatures stood their ground, unaffected by such natural things as fear. This gave the stupid beasts courage, and they held their ground, waiting for their magnificent leader to appear to them and lead them into fantastic battles. What a day this was to be.

The army gathered there was truly impressive, if not just because of its numbers. Hundreds of nature-twisted beasts had answered the call of the Orb of the Righteous, and formed impatient camps the width of the valley. They all seemed anxious to simply catch a glimpse of Rai'dley; "The Orb Holder" -- their Messiah. Some had traveled for days, others for weeks, in an unholy pilgrimage to the artifact of their origin. None of them knew why they were so compelled, all many generations away from the Ancestors; the original beasts created by the power of the Orb. They only knew their animal wants, desires, and need to serve the one who promised to reunite them in a terrible army to crush the good races of Carrona.

The elite army of undead zombies that was Rai'dley's Army waited mindlessly patient, unaware of anything as complicated as the passing of time. They had no will, no desire, but to follow the orders fed to them through LaBairne, their Zombie Lord. They had collected near the gate and stood at rigid attention, unwavering, untiring. They tended to spook the beasts some, and were given a wide berth. Some beasts had seen, and all had heard, of those fortunate ones chosen from the throng to be assimilated into this walking death. They anxiously peered around each other as much for glimpses of these atrocities as they did Rai'dley. Truly what a glorious day!

Many in the army of beasts strained their necks and their eyes skyward, thrilled by the aerial display of the flight of undead dragons. They could feel the foreboding evil of their very vile presence, and if not for their unreasonable compulsion to wait for their Messiah, they would have fled in stark terror back to the holes they had come from. Many were still paralyzed by their fear, and unable to take their eyes off the death that floated listlessly above them. The awesomeness of the entirety of the situation was too much for others, and they didn't know whether they wanted to run toward or away from the great castle that rose out of the mountains before them.

Inside the great fortress, Rai'dley was not so prepared. For the first time since Algernon had left, she missed the faithful dragon. He had proven an invaluable hand servant, always ready to give her what ever she needed, even before she herself realized her need. Without his constant attention, she had to prepare all by herself, and actually look for things she had always hap-hazardly thrown about.

It was the first time in weeks that she attempted to recreate her unnatural visage of the youthful elfin mage. She knew that her real looks, of the centuries old decomposing elf, would make a more imposing figure for her loyal army to admire, but she also knew that this was an important day. It was THE most important day if she ever had one. Perhaps as some layover from her former feminine days, she felt the need to "look her best."

She donned a new, splendorous robe, woven of fine silk fabric in the deepest of purples. Of course being the wonderful color it was, the robe couldn't have come from anywhere but the drow city of Mezzo'Dakmania. She mounted a delicate crown of gold and diamonds on her head. She had intended to save this moment until she could be officially coroneted the proper "Queen of Carrona," but at the last minute and overcome by the excitement, she found she couldn't resist.

She had the Orb of the Righteous installed on her bone chariot, and had a special stand for her sceptre of undead control mounted at her other side. She looked longingly at the spot between the rails where Algernon had always awaited her. The young black dragon always looked so sharp in that spot, eager to pull the gruesome chariot and fly it upon the black skies of night. He had provided her with so much company on their flights between the castle and Oswegonia. Now, a pair of nightmares took up the rails, awaiting her bidding. They too were faithful mounts, and truly fearsome to behold, but somehow it just wasn't the same.

Rai'dley looked in the mirror and examined her handiwork. The last of her supply of the magical elixir of preservation had been consumed a long time ago, and without the needed spirit energy to create more, she had to rely on her own magical talents to recreate the illusory face. Looking at the beautiful, young, charismatic face of the young elf in the mirror almost made her want to gag. She found the purity of that beauty repulsive and was almost tempted to remove the false mask of magic. But then she began to think about the symbolism of what this day really meant to her: the opportunity to finally complete what she and her mentors had started so very long ago.

Rai'dley had actually looked almost this beautiful once. She was younger and less mature, the blossom of her womanhood just coming to its peak when she was blasted by that terrible fireball centuries ago. She remembered her lover of the time; so caring, so gentle, yet so clever and devious she couldn't resist his twisted charms. "What was his name?" she asked herself with alarming fear. She remembered the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss, but couldn't even begin to remember the man's name.

Horror overcame her; true, honest dread. The heart and soul of any mage was their memory, and the thought that something that was once so precious to her had slipped into the etherealness of her mind frightened her. There were other holes there too, she realized as her mind scanned over what should have been two lengthy lifetimes worth of memories. She had lived so long, done so much, known so many people in two different worlds, but now all of that was slipping away from her. It seemed so long ago, and even though some of it really was, it had always felt so close to her. The sudden void where her identity used to be shocked her. When she had accepted her existence as a being of undead, a lich, she had unknowingly begun the process of tossing aside everything that she had ever been. Now, only this new being occupied her. Rai'dley was no longer an elf or a mage, or anything else she had ever cared about before. Rai'dley was a lich.

Her fears finally yielded to acceptance once more. She had a new understanding of who she was, who she could be, and it energized her evil spirit. The red pinpoints of light flared, momentarily out-shining the false pretty blue eyes in the mirror. She looked around at what she had, what she had accomplished, and where she was going. She caressed the Orb as if it was her lover, and ran her fingers teasingly down the length of the blue steel of the sceptre. With what was left of her tongue, she deliciously licked the blood-red gemstone at the top of her tool. She knew this was what she loved, who she was -- power. She dashed to the window and looked out over the throng gathered below and her dracolich children still circling lazily above. She felt their devotion and it warmed her in a way no lover's touch ever could. She was "The Queen of Death."

They thought the twisting cavern complex would never end. Once more they lost track of time in the underground tunnels, but it had seemed like millennia. The only difference was, Gerrod mused, was this time they were climbing up, not down.

Strangely there was nothing about this bend in the corridor that made it seem any different than any other they had traveled around. But this one was different. Dak'gnu stopped short as soon as he rounded the bend. There in front of him, the trail ended at a wooden door.

Gerrod found it equally anti-climatic that this wasn't some massive, impenetrable iron fortress door. He envisioned some cast steel creation with the visages of a million demons cast into its surface, all black as pitch. The door in his mind would radiate evil and foreboding the likes of which would send chills down the spines of all those who would gaze upon it. The door would be bound shut by an unfathomable number of magical bindings, such as to impress Corinna by their mastery. Its mere discovery would be so discouraging that they would consider turning around and giving up any hope of defeating the mighty forces the fortification withheld.

This was not that door. The door that stood before them was a quiet, unassuming door. It was startling in its ordinary appearance, and perhaps this was what made it even more frightening. The members of Wefpub, and the army of faithful clerics behind them knew that those within weren't afraid of company. In fact, this door almost welcomed them in, like a fly into a spider's web. It was too easy, too simple, and this was what frightened them most.

Well, almost frightened them all. With an indignant huff at the sudden silence of the group, Ace pushed his way past Gerrod and Dak'gnu. He hesitated little as he began to check the door for any traps or hidden devices. Even Ace wasn't foolish.

After thoroughly examining every square inch in and about the area, Ace laid a careful hand on the wrought iron doorknob. With the skilled practice of a true artisan, he gently gave the knob a slight twist, and was rewarded by its easy turning. Always pressing his good fortune, Ace held his breath and gave the slight, wooden door a gentle shove.

Once again he was pleasantly surprised as the door fluently swung open. Not a squeak or a rusty squawk was heard from the oiled hinges. It appeared they were inside Rai'dley's castle.

The truth was, the designers of the castle, the drow of centuries ago, before they were driven underground after losing the Great Elven War, were never finished with the construction of the massive doors planned. Their own lack of forethought didn't allow them to consider an attack from the complex subterranean caves. This truly was the back door.

From now on, the advancing troops moved in their stealth mode, making every effort to preserve their surprise advantage. They enhanced their effect with magical spheres of silence, protecting the well-armored clerical clan. The walls of this sub-basement showed the great weight of the structure above in the cracks that ripped down their lengths. Dust and pebbles continued to spew from them in the uneasy shifting of the masses.

The basement proved simple in design, especially after navigating through the labyrinth below. They found the stairs, and made their assent. They knew that the action awaited them above. The castle proved disturbingly quiet and cold. Like an abandoned ruin, only the sound of the wind whistling through the open windows and destroyed doors greeted them. Rooms were as empty as the hallways, allowing every shuffling footstep to echo nervously. It was an unsettling quiet that set the anxious clerics on edge. Wefpub and Dak'gnu were of course used to this, but that only seemed to make it worse. Unpleasant memories fought to distract them from the tasks at hand.

Besides quiet, the castle was cold. Unnaturally cold. Its undead inhabitants required no heat, and the large, unfinished castle hadn't ever been warmed by the soft glow of a fireplace. The freezing winter wind blew freely through the unprotected windows, shutters ripped asunder and creaking eerily in the wind. But even these breezes couldn't justify the numbing chill that sliced its way into the souls of the men. Here they found the foreboding, the callous bleakness that spoke of unspeakable inhumanity. The cold was evil itself. It wasn't the powerful, angry, wrathful evil, but the passionless, unaffected coldness of death.

They searched every room they encountered, taking just enough time to peek within the room. A large army of undead zombies was not an easy thing to hide; it couldn't be tucked neatly under a bed, but it would wait silently, patiently, not doing anything that might give away its location. With luck, it wouldn't be doing anything at all.

The castle, though clearly unfinished and lacking the lavish furnishings truly associated with the splendor of such a structure, was ambitious in its size. There were hundreds of rooms branching off a carefully planned network of corridors. Some held supplies, locked away from those who would plunder the riches there, while other rooms had doors rent from the hinges. Piles of waste gathered in corners, where filthy beasts had heaped it. Other rooms held wells, all containing putrid, stagnant pools of water. Smells didn't travel well in the cold crispness of the still air, but they seemed to be offending the hunters at every turn. There wasn't anything about the castle that made it welcoming.

They ascended another set of stairs, after examining all that the second level had to offer, and realized they were finally above ground once more. Streams of bright sun poured into the open windows, but any heat seemed to have been carefully sifted out. They could feel they had risen several thousand feet above the level of Crystal Meir, and seemed to have come out on the far side of Bellows Mountain, facing away from their cherished city on the lake. The light had a white purity that gave it a harsher, stark, blinding effect. The castle had even robbed them any comfort from the light of the sun.

The broad staircase that they followed up to the main level spread out ten feet wide. At the top of that stair, Dak'gnu suddenly dropped down, lying on the stone steps. He used his silent hand language to indicate that they had found something. Something big. He decided that it might be prudent to retreat back into the relative security of the level below to plot their strategy. He signaled the retreat and explained what he saw.

"It looks like they're all outside! The main front gate is right at the top of the stairs. The doors are wide open, and beyond that all I could see was a huge army of gold helmets," he explained.

"That's the King's Guard," Amanda explained to the leaders of the clerics who were listening in.

"The door of the castle will give us a good bottle neck to work from, to keep from being surrounded," Ace pointed out.

"Yes, but it also means that the undead outside are free to run out into the wild, should we attempt to turn them. They will flee from the sights of our holy symbols and be lost into the forests beyond," Allison considered.

"And I don't expect there's any way we could circle around them and corral them into an ambush," Gerrod suggested.

"We don't know the territory well enough, or any other way out of this castle. I think that a fast drive into the heart of them is the best way to go. If we can split the zombies from their leader, we can spend the next six months hunting them down and removing them from the lands if need be," the leader of the clerics offered.

"Speaking of which," Corinna asked, "where might Rai'dley be? She's the one we're going to have to really look out for."

"She's also likely to have the Orb with her as well. Let's not forget, getting the Orb back is our main objective," the battle-ready dwarf reminded them. "Ain't nothing more dangerous than powerful magics wandering about where they got no right to be."

Plans were made and tactics agreed upon. They wanted more than anything to prevent being surprised by an attack on their rear while they were fighting outside. If they got sandwiched in, they'd have to fight on two fronts, and they would soon be crushed by the weight of their numbers. To guard their rear, the members of Wefpub would finish searching the rest of the castle to make sure they were alone. They knew that all the areas below were clear, so they would continue working their way up.

The clerics would advance on the forces outside the castle gates, and try to spread out as much as possible for greater effectiveness. It was up to the individual commanders of the units assigned whether they would use their turning powers on the undead or not. If they thought they could do it without "making too much of a mess of things," they would. Otherwise, they would try to reserve this for defensive use only. Once they had them in a crush, they would combine their efforts in a final drive to eliminate this unholy nuisance.

It took little to rally these eager men of god to the cause. They had felt the oppressing effects of this evil plight for far too long, and the faith in their gods had suffered exhaustively at the hand of this bane. That was the final insult, and now for the first time there was something they could do about it. Upon command, they stormed the stairs like an inferno. They exploded out the gates and lit into who and whatever they met.

The first ranks of the undead army were run right over. They weren't expecting any attack from their rear, and not having any defensive orders available to them at the time, they simply stood there. They had rallied for conquest themselves, and having to defend themselves was the least of their commands.

LaBairne sat comfortably in his saddle. He had been given a tremendous steed to carry him into the battle, and from here he could see over the throng of his army. His glorious army. Once again they filled him with a glowing sense of pride. He too had come to accept his fate and his new position as leader of an undead army. He felt the power at his control and he welcomed that feeling. With the final approach of their ensuing conquest, he was in his element. He had always felt stifled as a military leader in the pitifully peaceful King's Guard of Oswegonia. "An army is for conquering," he told himself. "And today, we conquer!"

The zombie lord had positioned himself in the midst of his troops, feeding on the energy they infused him with. He looked out the eyes of all those gathered around, and saw the world from a hundred different views. In the past few days he had feasted well on piles of carcasses, ravaging their fetid meat to the bone. He had drained the energy from a hundred different creatures and rejoiced in their glorious undeath as they were forced into their unholy state. He found it an ecstatic feeling, sucking the very life force out of a proud beast. It coursed through his veins and warmed his eternally chilled bones. It never failed to send him into euphoric spasms of pleasures that exhausted him but invigorated him to no end. He smiled evilly to himself at the mere thought of the feeling of his power. "God, this is great!"

LaBairne, lost in his lustful daydreams, didn't even feel the first attacks. They came in swift and unexpected. He scrambled to change his focus into the eyes of those on the edge of the trouble, but by the time he could concentrate on it, those zombies had been destroyed, and his efforts blinked out before him.

With a mere thought, he ordered his men into action, turning them to face the attack that came impossibly from the castle itself. Thoughts that somehow Rai'dley had betrayed him again confused his efforts, fogged mental commands that needed to be clear and precise. Zombies faltered in their attempts to carry out commands that weren't exact and specific. They fumbled over each other instead of reacting as one precisely controlled group. Their clumsiness resulted in their piercing each other on the tips of their own blades and bashing each other with the force of their shields. In a chain reaction of chaos, clumps of zombies fell in tangled heaps as they turned to meet their effective attackers.

With unemotional logic; cold, calculating reasoning, LaBairne gathered his concentration and began to form up his ranks. The initial onslaught had truly caught him by surprise, but with his senses about him once more, the powerful commander pulled in the reins and bolstered his troops. That surprise had cost him much, but he was determined to stay the tide of this bleeding wound.

Wefpub swept through the castle like a storm. They knew they moved carelessly, opening themselves up for ambush, but they also knew they had a lot of work to do. It was hard to tell how much larger the superstructure of the castle was, and they had to search it thoroughly enough to at least not miss any more of the King's Guard.

They almost hoped that Rai'dley would be outside with her army, but a part of them knew that it wasn't likely. Rai'dley had proven a deceptive, cunning opponent. She wasn't the kind to lead a powerful army into battle herself, but would be willing to have commanders do that for her. Their only hope lay in her ego. Assembling such an army in such a bold way, spoke of a person vain in their accomplishments. How could she resist at least watching and sharing in their success?

The members of Wefpub knew, too, that if Rai'dley had already made her appearance to her army, they would have been on their way by now. The undead army was waiting for something. They could only imagine it was Rai'dley.

The castle had no lacking for rooms. To either side of the wide, spacious hallways, rooms of all sizes and shapes branched off. In order to cover more territory, the six party members spread out, each trying their own doors.

They fashioned large battering rams to plow through locked doors, not wasting time with gentle lock picks. The large ram absorbed a couple of traps, darts piercing its shaft, and suffered the effects of many magical sealing wards. As they made their way up more flights of stairs, and found the successive levels smaller, their confidence grew. They proudly measured their advancement to more secured areas of the castle by the amount of damage their battering rams took while forcing open more and more sealed portals.

There was no time to inspect the things they saw. None of these things moved or looked like zombies, so they passed despite their splendor or intrigue. Even Ace kept his objectives clearly in mind.

The hordes of beasts gathered around the valley in front of Rai'dley's castle noticed the clamor of battle, and couldn't help but sense that something not favorable was happening there. Some curiously stretched to see what it was, perhaps thinking all the ruckus was Rai'dley's final appearance, but most found this disturbance the final excuse they needed to run. They weren't keen on a battle yet, and they found their best interest in their senses, and made for the other end of the valley and to the protective forests below.

A few of the beasts recognized the commotion as being trouble, and blood-hungry, they picked up their crude weapons and advanced to see what they could do. They were eager for the battles, and this was as good a place to start as any. Together they pushed in on the crowds of undead zombies, giving them little option but to be pressed into the battle on the other side of them.

The zombies didn't pay the beasts much attention. They didn't mind their crowding push, unless the beasts interfered with the powerful swings of their weapons. Even then, they saw fit to simply smash the skulls or break the limbs they connected with. They had orders to fight in this direction, and they hadn't the will to surrender or slow to any force. Their unholy transformation eliminated morale as being a problem. They fought tirelessly, single-mindedly, and only moved from their position as their zombie lord skillfully guided them. Together they formed an impenetrable wall of death. Weapons moved in concert, slicing and stabbing at the air if they couldn't strike at anything else.

LaBairne relished the battle. The blood of the clerics flowed freely, though he knew his own numbers were diminishing. The large gathering of semi-loyal beasts was to be the shock troops, doing the majority of the killing in a large swarm of fodder out before his zombies. He planned on using his more precious undead soldiers to do the clean-up details of war, scouring the swath of destruction for any who remained alive. But now they took on the brunt of the attack, against those he feared most.

LaBairne saw the advancing columns of beasts, and cleverly worked the zombies to the sides, allowing the press of eager creatures to force their way through to the center of the mass. The lines of evil fiends cut their way through to the front line of action. If they wanted to get into the battle, LaBairne was just as willing to let them absorb the crushing maces and slicing blades of the advancing clerics. Through timely commands, the zombies were ordered to draw back, and the beasts were suddenly left to fend for themselves against the walls of good clerics.

The dragons above continued their lazy circles, not concerning themselves much with the events below them. In their centuries of life, they had seen many battles. They knew the weight of their army greatly over-powered the clerics of Crystal Meir. They knew that victory was only a matter of patient time, and that, now, they had plenty of. Instead, they entertained themselves with the leisurely job of slaying those who went AWOL. They made sweeping dives along the floor of the valley, easily catching and devouring any and all monsters that chose escape over battle. They joyously ensured the number of desertions were few.

The clerics swiftly worked their way out from the castle. Their first charge gained them free access across the bridge that spanned the deep crevice of a moat. With their backs against the large stone wall that acted as a berm around that moat of air, they continued to carve a path around the evil. They sliced and clubbed their way to encircle the fetid, rotting corpses before them.

Whenever the zombies struck one cleric down, two more of the faithful men filled in for him. This was a true ecumenical effort. It didn't matter to these holy men what church or god their brethren represented. They were a united army of good fighting the ultimate evil that had invaded their lands. There was no place to argue philosophical differences, nuances of intonations of religious prayers, or even who was the greatest of the gods. This was a place for the slaying of evil, and all those gathered there spoke of one mind that day.

The members of Wefpub continued their climb to the top of the orderly castle. They quickly eliminated level after level of the abandoned structure, becoming surer with the passing of every staircase that the entire army was waiting patiently outside for their great leader.

The levels started to get smaller, the farther up they traveled. The last floor consisted of a single hallway with a dozen rooms branching off. They located a narrow, twisting stairway of worn wooden steps, and they knew they had reached the tallest tower of the complex. They still hadn't come across Rai'dley, but Corinna had the terrible feeling, as the hair rose on the back of her neck, that they were about to.

# 

#  Chapter 29

# An End In Tears

The tightly fitted door at the top of the twisting wooden stairs was wizard locked for certain. The sharp bend in the steps prevented a strong blow from the battering ram. There would be no simple entry into this tower room, and they knew they had found Rai'dley.

With the strong magic of her staff, Corinna reached over the heads of the fighters in front and rapped firmly on the wooden door. There was a blinding flash as magical energy was suddenly dispelled. That was their cue.

Ace worked the locking mechanism of the door even as Gerrod pushed into it with his strong shoulder. Together they flew en masse into the crowded room, but not in a disorganized heap on the floor. As soon as the door gave way, Gerrod and Ace each rolled off to the side allowing clear entry through the door for Allison and Dak'gnu, who also ducked and rolled behind tables and items they could use as cover if they needed it. Last to enter were Amanda and Corinna.

Even though they had paused long enough for Amanda and Allison to cast their protective spells, they knew they had to act and move quickly. Rai'dley, as a mage, posed a dangerous opponent. With the skill that their years of adventuring together gave them, they assessed the situation and the room before them efficiently. They knew they'd have to keep the combat at long range, and Gerrod and Ace had little they could use against the might of such a powerful mage. This suited Ace just fine. When they barged into the room suddenly and so unexpectedly, they were almost pleased to see that Rai'dley was not alone. Two demon-steeds, coats black as pitch, whinnied smoldering spouts of fire and gases. They immediately knew they had their targets.

Before Ace and Gerrod could get too far, Dak'gnu gave them and himself an extra measure of protection. Even though he knew there was a good chance that some one as experienced as Rai'dley could detect such things easily, he cast a spell that rendered his friends and himself invisible. He was pleased to see its effect, as Ace and Gerrod blinked out of sight before him. He could detect them only as a faint, shimmering outline. They would be much harder to strike down.

Allison began her soft chanting of a prayer, and her prayers were answered when a large metal hammer appeared to float in the air before her. With a smile of conviction, she ordered the magical weapon away, and sent it crashing into Rai'dley's side, even as she was turning around to meet her unexpected guests.

Amanda had little in the way of offensive spells that could harm one the likes of Rai'dley, but she knew that even a powerful mage needed the valuable incantations of their spells to perform their deeds. She lit into a quiet, sweet song that sounded like a whisper, in hopes to shed a sphere of silence over her terrible foe. What she didn't realize was that this was Rai'dley's own sanctuary, her magical laboratory. Being such, it was strongly protected from such simple spells. Amanda's prayers had little hope of ever being answered.

Corinna worked quickly to prepare some sort of spell, in hopes of ending this conflict swiftly. She had hoped that their surprise could be used to best advantage, but she wasn't that gullible to believe it could ever be over so easily.

Rai'dley's eyes lit brightly at the sight of her intruders. At first it seemed a terrible intrusion. She hadn't heard they were coming, and only slightly considered how they'd gotten past her entire army below. Her thoughts, always in victory, decided that this could be fun. She had a dozen spells at her hand that could annihilate the entire lot of them in one fell swoop, but she had more devious, torturous plans in mind.

She turned to face the small band of adventurers, fear unable to register in her thoughts. She felt the impact of Allison's holy weapon in her side, but flinched off the burning pain it pounded into her. She callously considered it as little threat, and refused to let it interfere with the fun she had decided to have. "I would have thought that one of your caliber would have known better than to attack a mage in her own spell room. I see that you have brought your friends with you this time. How nice," she smiled at Corinna most sarcastically. She kept her penetrating stare on the young human's own eyes. She let her know this was personal. "You've bothered me for the last time, I'm afraid. I've more important things to do than to be bothered by your pestilence. I have a world to conquer!"

Rai'dley didn't wait for a reply; didn't want to hear what the smart-mouthed girl had to say in her defense. It was a simple spell, but very effective. She smiled at its simplicity, and the irony of this. With a mere thought of her mind, and the wave of a hand, she cast the magical energy across the room. With a modest inflection, she summarily dealt with her most effective enemy.

Corinna felt the smothering, constricting binds of magical energy weaving its way around her. She felt the tightening and the reinforcing of those bonds. She didn't need to test the effectiveness of those ties, for she knew how secure they would be. Far too early in the fight, far too easily, she had been dismissed like a schoolgirl. The paralyzing effect of the common magic was irrefutable. She couldn't move or talk. She could only watch as Rai'dley had her way with her friends. She prayed for death or unconsciousness to end her torture, for she knew what Rai'dley had in mind. It was the worst torture Rai'dley could ever inflict her with. Corinna would be forced to watch as her friends slowly died.

The magical dweomers that aided their stealth made Ace's skin itch. He and Gerrod made their way through the cluttered room toward the two fiery steeds that turned to face them. They looked in those burning eyes and knew their approach was no secret. The only thing keeping the angry, evil horses from coming after them was their magical bindings to a horrible chariot made of bone. The clutter in the room didn't offer the furious horses any way to haul the clumsy machine toward their approaching nemesis. With hatred burning in their fevered eyes, they waited.

Allison once again sent the weight of her magical hammer into Rai'dley. She knew the holy weapon did little actual damage to the powerful mage, but she celebrated each hit. She longed to close the gap and let her two swords do what she was best at. But precaution was in order against a mage of this magnitude, and until she was in a better position, these ranged attacks were the best she could hope for.

Dak'gnu used the magic of his spell to make his way silently around the side of the wide room. He hoped that his invisibility spell offered him enough cover to allow him safe passage to an advantage point behind this evil mage. He knew that his spells and attacks could do much more damage from there, especially if she didn't expect them. So with the silence of his Underworld, he moved in.

Corinna struggled against the binds that continued to hold her tight. She knew it was no use, but she was helpless to do anything else. Without the use of her hands or mouth, there were few spells she could cast, and none that would make a difference. She felt the power of Rai'dley's spell, and for the first time realized that perhaps she had underestimated the abilities of this mage. She knew that was her mistake, and knew her friends would pay for that error. It was her pride that refused to admit she hadn't heard of such a powerful mage. Now, she realized, there was no pride in watching your friends die.

"What a pretty, but useless voice you have, darling cleric," Rai'dley chastised.

Corinna cringed at the slight curls that developed in the corners of Rai'dley's mouth. She knew another devious scheme had unfolded in her twisted mind. And Corinna knew she was unable to help her friend.

"You sound like a songbird, my dear, sweet child. Songbirds belong in a cage. I think this magical cube will hold you." Another spell flew through the air, and the magical energy this time took the form of an impenetrable cube of invisible force fields.

Similar to Corinna's Resilient Sphere they had used to escape the drow city of Mezzo'Dakmania, this was an immovable cube that would hold Amanda tight until the powerful magic could be dispelled. Corinna cursed her own ineffectiveness again as Amanda pressed against the strong, invisible walls.

Amanda knew that a strong spell held her in this prison of air, yet she was determined. She knew in her heart that her god was even more powerful and would release her from this trap. She said her prayer to dispel this magic, but the strong bonds of magical energy held tight.

Side-by-side, Gerrod and Ace approached the wildly leaping fire steeds. The two horses had just enough room to maneuver to face the pair of invisibly protected stalkers. The two beasts were born in the planes of the Hells and their hatred and evil glowed from their steaming black coats. The excitement and anticipation for the combat sent clouds of smoking, vile vapors into the air that choked and blinded the two friends.

The pair fearlessly forced themselves the final steps, until the two beasts were within weapons range. This was what the two fighters lived for, and bravely swung their powerful blades against the dark horses.

When Gerrod's long sword bit into the front flanks of the left steed, the magical dweomers that hid his form flashed out of existence. Gerrod faded back into sight. The sword sliced deeply into the muscles that waved the fiery hooves in Gerrod's face and singed his hair. The beast was damaged, but showed little for its hurt.

Ace was all too happy to be rid of the magic that clung to him like a skin. The steed he faced was prepared for the short dwarf, and attacked with a terrible bite. The lightning fast attack caught Ace off guard, accurate in its fury. Long, sharp fangs, very unhorse-like, sunk deeply into his shoulder. The pain coursed through him, but he insisted on swinging his axe as he had wound up for. The wicked blade swung with his dwarven might and chopped deeply into the exposed neck of the otherworldly steed. With a bellow of pain, the mighty horse dropped to its knees and died.

The foul bite drained the blood from Ace's face, and he went reeling with the pain of his own wound. The fetid bite had struck a large vein, and blood spurted from the base of his neck. He gripped the wound with his hand, dropping his axe to stem the flow of blood. Only his stubborn dwarven pride kept him from falling to the ground.

Once again Amanda formed the words to her furtive prayer to Corellon Larethian, praying her god dispel the magic that entrapped her. Sweat from the efforts of her prayers rolled down her temples, and claustrophobia started to panic her. "Why wasn't this working?" she asked herself. "I should be able to get out of this, I know it!" She refused to give up; her faith in herself and her god was stronger than that.

Once again, Corinna was helpless to do anything but watch as Rai'dley's vindictive magic struck out again. Fed up with the pecking of Allison's unfailing hammer, Rai'dley turned her attentions toward the powerful fighter. "Such a pity to see such a strong woman only able to throw such a weak weapon at me. You pride yourself in your strength and your god. But what does your god and your strength do for you against the might of my magic?" Rai'dley asked in a cackling voice. Rai'dley reached out and squeezed with her hand as if to crush her hand around the fighter.

Immediately, as if struck by some spectral hand, Allison found her arms pinned to her sides, and under the pressure of a giant, grasping hand. Muscles flexed against magic, but she was held tight. Rage over came her, and she used the magical hammer that returned to her grip against the invisible hand that imprisoned her.

Set in place far to the side of Rai'dley, Dak'gnu launched his attack. Pointing with his Soul Dagger, he silently fired a spell from the tip of his weapon. A thin green beam of light streaked across the room toward Rai'dley, and he was sure he had scored a hit.

With the speed of an elf, Rai'dley spun to meet the on-coming spell. She knew exactly what it was, and sensed the danger it posed to her. Instinct, more than anything, guided her response. If she had the time to think about it, she never would have made the sacrifice. She lifted her nearby sceptre to block the deadly beam of glowing magical energy.

The beam struck the magical device Rai'dley used to control her army of undead creatures. The magic lined the surface of the sceptre, with its glowing red globe of spider blood, and it exploded into a pile of dust in Rai'dley's hand.

It was a terrible sacrifice to make, but Rai'dley knew what the consequences would have been otherwise. She couldn't afford to give sign of her concern, and turned her attentions to the dwarf. It gave Rai'dley a twisted sense of satisfaction to see the dwarf reeling in the pain of his wound, but when she saw the nightmare lying dead on the floor, she developed even more wicked, painful tortures for the dwarf. She didn't have the time to exact them right now, but would savor that cruelty later. "I'll do your short friend a favor, Corinna," she plied slyly. "It looks like he's ready to faint dead away before he bleeds to death. Those nightmares have such a nasty bite. I don't think his hands will be able to stay the flow of that blood, so let me." With this terrible promise of false hope, Rai'dley threw a bit of granite dust in the air and turned Ace's skin and equipment into stone.

This magical treatment did stop the bleeding, but Corinna shivered at the thought of the cruelties this made her dear old friend vulnerable to. There was no doubt in Corinna's mind that Rai'dley would enjoy doing these terrible things, and no doubt that she would continue to be powerless to watch. She fought back tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. The helplessness of the situation washed over her.

"Now THAT'S what I call a REAL stone dwarf!" Rai'dley cackled in glee.

Gerrod refused to be distracted from his efforts in defeating his chosen target. The foul demon-beast had created a large smoke cloud of the noxious vapors, and Gerrod could barely make out the steed in the midst of the hot cloud. It burned his lungs and his eyes, tearing them in streams down his cheeks. He gasped for breathe, and struck with a vengeance.

The terror-mare tried to bite, seeing what a wonderfully terrible wound it made on the dwarf. It drove its head down low, but Gerrod managed to deflect the attack with the sharp edge of his blade. The strong steel cut into the thick snout of the beast, snapping the jaw and shattering teeth. The horse's thick tongue landed with a thud on the floor at Gerrod's feet. For once in the nightmare's existence, it was filled with terror of its own.

The nightmare felt its limping pain in its flank, barely able to support itself on its front leg. Pain throbbed from its long nose and mouth. If it had been an earthly creature with blood to spill, it would be draining profusely from those vicious wounds. The death of its partner, whose lifeless corpse was still magically bound to the cursed bone chariot, saddened it. It cared little for this lich that chose to take such pains in covering up its own powers behind a mask of the living. It had enough of this whole thing.

Even though it almost collapsed from the effort, the nightmare balanced its weight on its front legs, and used its powerful hindquarters to kick and splinter the bone chariot tethered there. A spray of flame and cinders flew across the room, igniting what ever they landed on. Within minutes, the tables cluttered with flasks, draperies around the windows, and even the furniture and floors were ignited with a thousand different fires. The chariot lay as a pile of shattered bones, and the clear globe of crystal that had been securely nestled in a cradle on the chariot rolled across the floor. Freed from its bonds, the nightmare launched itself toward the large open doorway that led out onto the balcony. With a final leap of its strong legs, it jumped from the balcony and took magical flight. A rush of flames fanned out the window behind him.

Allison continued to struggle with her hammer against the magical fist that held her securely, as Dak'gnu readied another spell. The dark elf still cursed his failure with his first attempt, his most powerful spell wasted. With another thought of magical command, he sent a chilling cone of cold from the tip of his Soul Dagger toward the back of the mage. Rai'dley had centered her attention on the drow's new dwarven friend, and even as he saw the brave, stolid dwarf turn to a stone statue, he fired off the spell.

An unbearable coldness erupted from the tip of the magical weapon, and successfully encompassed the entire region Rai'dley stood in. Magical potions around her froze and shattered, and a thick layer of frost encased everything, including Rai'dley's unprotected back.

Perhaps that grin was the worst of all. By all rights, Rai'dley should have dropped dead at the chilling cold that she was subjected to, but instead she slowly turned to face the drow. That terrible grin of perfectly white teeth spread impossibly wide in Corinna's tortured mind. She proved to be completely unaffected by the deadly cold.

Amanda knew she had but one more try to dispel this magic about her. But with inspired personal insight, her god told her what her problem had been. So desperate had been her attempts to free herself, she had been trying to dispel the magic with her own will, not allowing her god to do it for her. It was a humbling experience that didn't go unnoticed. She couldn't afford to ignore the lessons of her god. She would never dispel such powerful magic with the strength of her prayers -- that was for her god to do. This time, she didn't strain in her efforts from the prayer, but instead placed her energies into her faith. She made the calm plea to her god, and with a smile that warmed her heart and soul, he released his chosen child from the magical box.

Every imprisonment of her friends was a personal reliving of the death of George, her half-ogre friend. She was held helpless to come to their aid. There was nothing she could do for them, and Rai'dley seemed to sense that was what tortured her the most. She felt the pain of her friends, felt all the responsibility for their demise, was killed all over again every time one of them was hurt. This time was no less than the others.

Rai'dley's wicked attentions were turned onto Gerrod. He chased her marvelous nightmare out the window, taking her wonderful chariot with it. This fight was getting costlier than she had hoped, but she was assured victory, and did enjoy this slow torture of her nemesis. She looked forward to this opportunity for a long time, though the timing wasn't as perfect as she would have liked. She didn't mind the use of all of her best spells and costly spell components, for that was what she loved. She reveled in the flow of the magical energies through her, and even these costly material things could be easily replaced in time; and time was one thing Rai'dley had plenty of.

From one of the shelves behind her, Rai'dley retrieved a large diamond, big enough to fill the palm of her hand. She smiled as she considered its purity and value. It seemed a shame to use it up for this, but oh how glorious this would be! "Oh Corinna, darling!" she called out. She wanted to make sure she had the youthful mage's full attention so the grand effect of this powerful spell wouldn't be wasted on her enjoyment alone. "Keep an eye on your lover."

With the speaking of the control words for the complex spell, Rai'dley unleashed a bolt of magical energy that sliced its way across the room. It caught Gerrod up like the end of a whip and wrapped itself around him. It enveloped him in a web of interweaving strands of golden magic. Gerrod screamed in pain, a scream that seemed to echo forever in Corinna's mind. The effects of this spell were certainly not lost.

Gerrod's body writhed in that pain, and he flopped around helplessly for several seconds as the magical bolt of golden energy did its work. Corinna could see that he was being sliced and shredded into pieces by a terribly slow and agonizing process. These dust-like particles, the only thing left of her best friend and her lover, were then pulled along that magical stream and taken back into that huge diamond. Corinna wept bitterly, for she knew that Gerrod was being trapped within the confines of that fantastic gem.

After several cruel seconds, the spell was over. Gerrod was gone; banished from this world and trapped like a bug inside a piece of amber. Rai'dley cackled with glee as she carelessly tossed the diamond back on the shelf for storage until later. She marveled at how easily one of her foes could be discarded. She would later release him, of course, when she was better prepared to offer him slow and enduring torture that would make that shredding process seem enjoyable in comparison. "My how I enjoy this," she told herself out loud.

Dak'gnu, who was helpless to aid his friend as well, was still confused why his powerful cone of cold hadn't effected this evil mage. Infuriated, and convinced this would require even more fire power, now that his second spell had been cast off as ineffective, he launched his Soul Dagger toward Rai'dley's back while she was still distracted by her treatment of Gerrod. Dak'gnu used this distraction, and Gerrod's pain, to his advantage. The Soul Dagger, his other part, struck the foul mage in the base of the neck, but didn't split the spine as he had hoped it would. As soon as he saw that it was lodged securely in place, he sent the mental signal to his trusted dagger that exploded a spell from its sharpened point, directly into Rai'dley's neck.

It was the same spell that Dak'gnu had used in the tunnels of Mezzo'Dakmania, his Artic Blast spell. The power of the blast ripped into Rai'dley, and the explosion of air wrapped around her. This might have killed just about anyone, but Rai'dley was already dead. The force of the explosion tore at her flesh and the magical disguise she wore. It rent the magical energy that she tied to her features, ripping her thinly veneered disguise away. The magical illusion came crashing down around her, and she was suddenly revealed in her true nature. Eyes of sincere blue exploded in empty sockets, leaving only those penetrating red dots of flickering life. Her delicate china-skinned complexion literally exploded off her body, falling to the floor in pieces before the illusion completely disintegrated. And so too were the illusions of her grand clothes destroyed, leaving her in nothing but her tattered robes.

It was a terrible, demoralizing loss for Rai'dley, even though she savored the shock and terror on the faces of her foes that now saw her for the first time in her true, lich self. She grinned a suddenly tooth-gapped grin as she reached around and grabbed the dagger from her neck. She had felt no pain from the attack, the dead body she inhabited long past being able to feel anything. She knew she had to act quickly, and she knew what she had to do.

Dak'gnu was overcome by the sheer shock of the situation, or else he might have been able to react quicker. In the space of those precious moments, he forgot that his Soul Dagger was still out there, lodged in Rai'dley's neck. He didn't even think of it, or consider the consequences, when Rai'dley retrieved the adamantane weapon from her own neck and held it. She admired the detail and craftsmanship for just a moment before it was magically turned to crystal. Dak'gnu knew he had lost it. At the mercy of Rai'dley's spell, the steel hardened in the heart of Thear was changed into a delicate crystal form.

It seemed it was the same swift action that had pulled the weapon from her neck that cast the now fragile crystal weapon onto the stone floor of the room. Dak'gnu dove toward Rai'dley, though he knew he'd never reach the dagger in time. It crashed onto the floor. He too emitted a long, suffering screech of pain. It wasn't a cry from physical pain, for Dak'gnu would feel none. But rather it was a cry for the loss he suffered.

The crystallized weapon struck the stone floor and shattered into a million shards. Dak'gnu, still committed to his lunging dive, collapsed on the floor. The magical bond that tied him to the Soul Dagger was shattered with it, and so too was the dark elf's heart. Before the pieces of the shattered dagger even settled on the floor, Dak'gnu was dead.

Once again Corinna cried out in her paralyzed state, unable to feel the release of real tears or real suffering. She remained safe and protected in the cushion of her paralysis while her friends died all around her. It was almost more than she could bear.

Allison beat soundly against the magical giant hand that contained her. She managed to work her one arm free, and she used it the best she could with the hammer created by her own prayers. The hand was made of powerful magic, but her faith was strong. Her arm pained with the attempt, but her constitution prevailed. With a final sound blow of the mighty war hammer, the mystical fist that clenched her shattered as the strands of magic weakened and gave way under the beating. Allison was free at last.

Amanda, who celebrated her own freedom, saw what happened to Rai'dley, and knew the truth of her being. Rai'dley was a lich! Without hesitation, Amanda drew Derik's Mace and ran across the room. Now it was her turn. She landed within distance, and swung the great mace with the momentum of her movement. She sent the full weight crashing into the twisted creature's side. The powerful mace, endowed with the blessings of her god, flashed a bright blue light as it connected with the evil creature.

The force of the blow spun Rai'dley around and crashed her into the wall behind her. Shelves were tossed and their contents thrown in a crash.

Allison knew that their only hope for success in this was to get Corinna back into the fray. She worked to calm herself after her struggle with the hand, and worked her prayers on the magic that bound Corinna. While she didn't exactly understand the workings of magic, she knew that wasn't her concern; that was for her god to work. She closed her eyes to concentrate on her prayers. She dared not open her eyes until after the prayer was done.

Corinna felt the release of the spell, as Allison's prayers dispelled it successfully. She had plenty of time to consider what she would do, and now it was time to take those actions.

Amanda pounded at the wounded Rai'dley with all her might. Her hatred turned into a frenzy. She struck Rai'dley with the terrible weapon for Dak'gnu, who laid dead on the floor. She struck her for Ace, whose stone-encased form ached for the mage's destruction. She struck Rai'dley for Gerrod, who had been torn apart and sucked into that gem. But mostly, she struck the evil mage for her god, whom she held above all else in this world. Time and again the mighty weapon came down upon her victim. She felt no mercy for this unspeakable evil. Amanda was determined Rai'dley would pay for all that she had done.

Rai'dley lay in a heap on the floor, a pathetic remnant of what she once was. She feebly tried to defend herself from the continuing blows of that mace that shook her very being, but could only weakly raise her arm. Her skull had been smashed, ribs shattered, and limbs broken with bones erupting through her dried, hard flesh. Still, she seemed to defiantly smile up at the young priestess who now tormented her. "No matter how hard you hit me, you'll never see the end of me. You can't kill what's already dead!" A black ichor coughed up through her mouth, and leaked out of her punctured frame.

"Maybe we can't 'kill' you," Corinna agreed from behind the cleric as she advanced, "But we can destroy you!"

Corinna held ready a wand in her eager hand. "Jicontzu!" she commanded the wand, and a green bolt of magical energy answered her command. It streaked over the shoulder of Amanda, and struck Rai'dley square in the chest. The wand worked its magic, and the green energy spread across Rai'dley's body and enveloped it in the same green glow that destroyed Rai'dley's sceptre. In seconds, Rai'dley the Mage was no more. She disappeared from the face of the world, leaving nothing behind but a pile of dust.

As an added protection against the hated evil, Allison attacked the pile of dust with a vial of holy water that caused the remnants to foam and sizzle, until not even that remained.

The three women, collapsing in each other's embrace, looked about the tower room. The furniture lay in shambles, Dak'gnu was dead on the floor, and Ace stood like a stone statue. They celebrated a victory, but a hollow one at best.

"Gerrod!" Corinna screamed, realizing the shelves where Rai'dley had put the gem were destroyed. She searched the room, and finally found where the gem had slid under a bench. She looked into the giant diamond, and was surprised to see Gerrod staring back at her. She was pleased to see that he was still alive, even if he was imprisoned in the diamond.

While Amanda and Allison confirmed that Dak'gnu was dead and prepared his body, Corinna attended to Ace. He had been turned to stone, but this was something she could fix. She cast the reverse of the flesh to stone spell, and Ace was instantly restored to his normal, grouchy self. He was none too pleased with having been taken out by the magical spell, but was grateful to Corinna for his release from the "evil magics."

Corinna pondered the implications of Gerrod's imprisonment. This was a spell she wasn't familiar with, and wasn't at all sure how to get him out alive. As far as she could tell, he seemed alive inside the gem, and was afraid any misguided attempt to free him might end up killing him. Seeing discretion the better part of valor, she decided she'd have to wait before making any attempts to resolve the problem. Besides, Amanda reminded her, there was a war being fought downstairs, and the clerics of Crystal Meir might need their help. As much as Corinna wanted to be reunited with her love, and he'd want to fight in this war, he'd have to wait.

They took no souvenirs. Instead, they could only drag off the body of their new friend to show for their win over the terrible mage-lich Rai'dley. There were plenty of items of value to be plundered, but even the greedy dwarf found no use for these things; at least not yet. If they still survived after the battle below, they would return for their rewards. But to collect now, and to die in the war yet to be fought, seemed a hollow victory indeed.

The members of Wefpub left that room. They felt an end, but knew it was an end in tears.

# 

#  Postlude

# The Settling of Dust

By the time the members of Wefpub got back downstairs, the battle outside was well under way. The clerics of Crystal Meir had already spread out wide. They surrounded the army of zombies, forming a cup shape. A confused mass of other beasts unwittingly formed a trapping lid to their formation. This crowd seemed to hold in the zombies while LaBairne tried to strategically withdraw them from the melee with the priests. With scores of beasts pressing in on them, LaBairne found it difficult to escape the ring of clerics.

LaBairne felt the sudden release with the destruction of Rai'dley's sceptre of undead control. While the zombies were and always would be under the direct control of LaBairne, LaBairne suddenly realized he was no longer under anyone's control. LaBairne could visualize the destruction of that cursed sceptre of undead control that held his will to Rai'dley who bore it. In fact, in his dreams, he had imagined the destruction of both that sceptre and Rai'dley at his own hands. He didn't know how the deed was finally done, but he didn't really care. It was gone, the only thing that held him here, and that was all that mattered. He was now on his own with the army at his disposal. This being the case, he would be damned if he would waste his army here fighting these clerics.

He ordered the troops of his undead army into a wedge shape, and used this to push the beasts that hounded them aside. Those that dared stand in his way were left behind as a corpse. Most of the beasts that caught sight of LaBairne tried to flee and escape. If the zombies didn't get these beasts, the clerics did.

The zombie lord didn't need the chanting and the holy symbols of the clerics to convince him to leave, but these things had terrible effects on his ranks. Zombies exploded at the sight of the holy symbols, and many fled in terror, breaking the cleanly aligned formations he fought to achieve. Holes developed that needed to be filled with more zombies, or else the press of the monsters would slow them down. LaBairne was a dedicated general, and under his careful guidance, the first of his undead ranks broke free of the mob.

The army of zombies moved swiftly, once freed from the clamor of the monsters. They ravaged through the camps of those beasts that threatened to trample upon them, and joined those who had lost the will to fight. This only hastened the speed of these retreating numbers. They spread out, wandering off in their efforts to escape. LaBairne would easily regroup his army once they were free and away from this accursed place.

The clerics rallied at the retreating of their foes. They brandished their holy symbols proudly and called out the names of their gods. They sung loud hymns of faith that rumbled in the ears of the retreating zombies. They battled off the increasing numbers of beasts before them, but found that they quickly lost nerve for the battle too. As they began to sense the death of Rai'dley, and lost their mystical compulsion for the battle, they turned and ran after the undead army. The beasts began to run and soon it was a routing.

The members of Wefpub joined the clerics in the pursuit, eager for their turn at the slaughter. But the beasts, which were more familiar with the rugged terrain, quickly out-distanced them all.

The dragons too felt not only the destruction of the sceptre, as it was a powerful magical item, but also of the death of their mother, the mage Rai'dley. With strong wills of their own, and finding little left here to defend, they made a collective agreement to disperse and head back to their own lairs. They had gained significantly in their powers, and couldn't wait to take advantage of their newfound strengths. Plans and dreams of chaos and terror wistfully filled their minds as they parted ways and headed back to the four corners of the lands.

With the clerics of Crystal Meir spreading out in hunting bands to chase down the remaining monsters and zombies that might stay in the area, and the dark forces of evil retreating back into the shadows, the members of Wefpub returned to Rai'dley's castle. With heavy hearts, they buried their dark elven friend on a high perch where he was sure to catch the first rays of the morning sunrise. Amanda and Allison said devoted prayers for the man, and each had many heart-felt praises with which to send him on his way to the gods.

Back inside the castle, they returned to Rai'dley's lab and quarters. They plundered the place for anything that might be of any great value, which was a lot. They found wagons abandoned in ramshackle stables below, and loaded the loot onto these. There were many chests filled with gems and jewels, and piles of gold and other coins, which had been sacrifices to the mage from the visiting hordes of beasts. As was often the case with any mage, there was of course dozens of magical items to be found.

Some of the more prized trophies they reclaimed were Rai'dley's spell books, which listed many spells that hadn't been used for a century or more, and the Orb of the Righteous. Corinna packed the ancient spell books away and looked long into the Orb. It was a rather simple looking sphere of crystal. Even though the Orb was of fantastic, clear quality, it hardly looked like anything so powerful as to be able to destroy all of Carrona. She packed this away carefully, and placed it with the other items, securing it in the middle of their load.

When all was done and everything taken care of, Corinna retrieved their horses from her magical bag of holding. They attempted to fasten Gerrod's horse to the wagon. Misty looked about for her master, and when she didn't see him, grew very agitated. She reared and bucked, and almost ran off on them, before Corinna could work the magic of the bag and stuff the horse back in. They had forgotten how temperamental Misty could be without Gerrod's calming, peaceful hand. The ranger always had a special way with the horse that mystified the others.

Smokey and Fire generously took up the task of hauling the wagons down the mountain. As Allison rode, she missed the comforting arms of the drow that had held her unnecessarily tight on their ride to Crystal Meir. She found herself missing the warmth of his breath on her neck, and the smooth tones of his voice in her ear. She spent a great amount of that ride crying, but no one questioned her about it. They shared in the pain of her loss.

Corinna often found herself pulling the large diamond from her pocket just to look at it. Gerrod was there to greet her with a smile every time. She kissed the gem where Gerrod's face was, and talked to him, even though he couldn't hear her words or return her sentiments. "I'm sorry, Gerrod. I'm sorry for everything. I know you don't want me to blame myself for this, but I do. I never should have left you, so many years ago. I do love my magic, I still do; but it can never be more important to me than you are. It pained me terribly to leave you. When you never showed back up for Reunion, I couldn't bring myself to go and look for you. I feared that you hated me for what I'd done. I wouldn't have blamed you if you did. You always loved me, didn't you?" She bent over the diamond and gave it another long, passionate kiss. "I love you too," she whispered, tears trickling freely down both cheeks.

The ride around and down the rugged Bellow's Mountain was a long and hard one. They traveled non-stop. They couldn't wait until they re-entered the capital city. They just wanted to put that castle, that mountain, the whole thing, behind them. It was as if the distance would make the nightmare go away.

Amanda, Allison, Corinna, and Ace faced the High Priest's Council and gave their report of the battle and how the clerics were busy dispersing the remnants of the evil army. They presented the Churches that provided the army of clerics with gifts of coin and gems. The rest of the treasure was identified and auctioned to the local mages. Many of the more powerful or rare pieces, of course, the members of Wefpub agreed to let Corinna keep. Together, they split the profits from the auction.

Amanda attempted to return Derik's Mace, but the High Priest's Council bid she keep it. The members of Wefpub were all given special honors in an extravagant celebration with too much food and drink and dancing. Every time the festivities began to die down, another band of clerics would return from their hunting, and the party would start right back up again.

Corinna spent much of this time away from the galas. She insisted on staying in her room studying Rai'dley's spell books. She knew the secrets to Gerrod's release were hidden somewhere in those tomes, and she refused to stop searching until she discovered them. She invited the assistance and company of fellow high-ranking mages of the city, and together they shared the knowledge found in those ancient volumes.

Finally she found the spell she knew Rai'dley had used, a Trap the Soul spell. She read the ancient text carefully, translating from the arcane language of magic. She familiarized herself with it to almost memorize the spell. According to the text, in order to free the person trapped within the gem, the gem had to be broken.

Corinna grabbed Ace from one of the parties that night and pulled him off to the side. "Where's your axe?" she asked breathlessly.

"It be right her, girl. Calm down now, and tell me what this is all about," Ace assured her in soothing tones.

"I found the key to getting Gerrod out of the diamond. All we have to do is break the gem. If we can break the diamond, then Gerrod will be freed," she gasped between heavy breaths.

Ace held the girl, studying her convictions. He had seen the precious gem that Gerrod was held in and had appraised it at being worth a king's ransom. He was reluctant to ruin the perfectly cut stone if he didn't have to. Ace had a great appreciation for such things. But the desperate look in the girl's eyes told him what he needed to know. Both Corinna and Gerrod were like children to him, and he would sacrifice anything for them. If that meant breaking a priceless diamond to do it, then so be it. "All right, girl," he hesitated. "I have to warn ya', though. A diamond's the hardest thing to chop into. I don't know if even my old axe can do the trick."

"I know it can, Ace. You've chopped through anything and everything with that blade of yours. That _is_ a dwarven blade, isn't it?" she teasingly questioned its integrity.

"Well of course it is!" he answered indignantly. "Of course I'll try. I was just saying. If any blade can cut through that rock, it'd be me axe."

Corinna bent down and gave the old dwarf a quick kiss on the cheek before he could object. He blustered about her carrying on so, but she knew how much he really liked it.

They worked their way through the crowd that gathered in the ballroom of the church and saved Amanda and Allison from their "proper duties" as hostesses. The two thankfully followed Corinna and Ace back to her room where Corinna filled them in on the plan. She tried to show them what she had found in the ancient books, but the strange writing and illustrations were all just gibberish to the uninitiated. They held the greatest confidence in Corinna's authority about such matters, and anxiously gathered around while Ace prepared the stone and himself.

Ace had training in gem cutting, and with a professional eye, he studied the large stone. He looked past the face of his friend and the glaring reflection of the gem's brilliant, priceless surface. Ace almost became one with the stone, allowing it to speak to him and describe for him its very facets. After a considerable time of anticipation, Ace prepared his mighty blade.

He gave the old battle-axe blade another coat of fine oil, lovingly caring for the edge and breadth of the weapon. He read the ancient runes carved intricately in its black handle and drew strength from them. He spoke the old dwarven words reverently, with a gentle, easy rhythm. The blade seemed to glow with a soft light as if the gods were looking down upon them at this moment. With a prayer of meditation to Moradin, the god of all dwarves, Ace knew he was ready.

The diamond was placed in a cradle on the floor. They feared the strength of the stone floor was the only thing strong enough to stand up against the coming blow. With a prayer on all their lips, Ace held the weapon high above his head and came down on the stone with the might of his weight driving the strike. Bright white sparks flew at the striking of the sharpened edge, blinding the casual observers from the effects of the attempt.

But Ace's smile told the story.

When the dust from the stone floor finally settled, there was the huge diamond, cleft cleanly in two pieces. A mist of vapors billowed from the wound in the gem. It hovered above the floor, churning and boiling where it sat. It finally coalesced, generating the vague form of their friend. It eventually condensed back into the familiar form of the ranger. They held their breaths in anticipation until he blinked his eyes. Everyone cheered.

Gerrod was alive.

Corinna rushed to Gerrod's side and held him tightly. She pressed her lips to his and praised all the gods, thankful just to hold him once more. Gerrod was free. "Oh, Gerrod. I was so scared I'd lost you. I was afraid I'd never have the chance to tell you -- I love you."

Gerrod wasn't sure he'd heard Corinna right, and considered for a moment that he had been dropped back down in a different world, or perhaps he was simply dreaming. She kissed him again, and he felt the passion in that kiss. He wasn't dreaming.

Soon all his other friends gathered around him, each expressing their thankfulness for his safe return to them. When everyone had gone through the line, Gerrod asked about Dak'gnu. It was his turn to be saddened by their collective loss. He held such hopes for the drow warlock, and he expressed his disappointment in tears.

The party that night was the greatest yet. Two more hunting parties who announced farther regions from the city were clear of the impending beasts joined them. The army of beasts headed back deep into the heart of the Lost Lands to the West. The other party of hunters reported that they found traces that the zombie army had regrouped and headed southwest. For the citizens of Crystal Meir, this was nothing but good news. With the honorable addition of Gerrod as another hero to the festivities, they rejoiced all night.

The next day, the gods issued a severe reminder that the adventure wasn't over with yet. A tremendous earthquake shook the region of Crystal Lake. It brought the ceiling of that magnificent ballroom down in a pile of rubble. Many other parts of the lakeside city were buried in an avalanche of snow that had gathered on top of Bellow's Mountain. While they had recovered the Orb of the Righteous, Corinna still had to locate where it belonged and find some way to return it to its rightful place. Only then would the eternal winter end and nature be able to right itself.

The last of the hunting parties returned that next day, having dug through the heavy snows of the avalanche. They confirmed that LaBairne's undead army of zombies was still going strong, and headed toward Oswegonia. They said the army moved without tiring or taking breaks, and so had out-distanced the tiring men. They had also run short of supplies and gotten lost several times in the harsh winter storms that continued to torture the lands. It was "only by the grace of the gods" that they found their way back at all.

And it seemed that if all this wasn't enough, a lone scout came on the King's Highway from the south, and reported to the High Priest's Council that Oswegonia had fallen to the rule of one Raygan, a thief who raped the proud city for its riches, let crime and thugs run the streets, and enslaved all the men to work in nearby mines. The messenger claimed to be from an underground organization of rebels. They fought to throw Raygan out of power, but lacked the weapons and magic they needed to accomplish this. They asked for help from anyone willing to give it.

This news sent Ace packing. His thoughts were only of his family and the inn. "The gods knows what that man's done to my city," he raved with a tear in his eye as he quickly threw his things into his backpack. Ace hardly waited for others to group together to join his cause, swearing he was "going to kill that Raygan once and for all."

With the reports that LaBairne also seemed to be heading in that direction, Amanda and Allison decided to join Ace for the trip. They had to rid the lands of LaBairne before that powerful undead creature could cause any more chaos. With their god's blessing, and the Church's, they headed out that same day.

Gerrod stayed with Corinna. He pledged to help her return the Orb to its rightful place in order to put an end to the madness about them. Besides, now that he had finally gotten the love of his life back, he was determined not to lose her again. After a week's studying of the piles of manuscripts Corinna had collected from Rai'dley's lab, she knew she wouldn't be able to solve this puzzle on her own. This divination required very high magics, and the only place she knew that she could find this help was in Midkemia. She knew that the Arch-Mage and the other elven elders there could help her decipher the information

Corinna and Gerrod thanked the High Priest of Crystal Meir for all the help and generosity they had bestowed on them. They packed up wagons with supplies and the magical goods. Riding in a coach provided by the Church of Corellon Larethian, they headed for Midkemia. They traveled with a small band of escorts, just to make sure they met with no trouble on the way. With the King's Highway being the way that it was, not to mention the additional chaos of the world, they felt better for the company of the band.

Lolth informed Mother Fa'Langa of Rai'dley's defeat. The First Mother and the goddess shared their disappointment, but neither one were actually dissatisfied with the outcome. There would be other plans, other opportunities, and always other schemes. They were not concerned. Besides, they were comfortable with the way things were in their Underworld city. No one really wanted any changes, though they were sure to come.

Gerrod smiled as he enjoyed the plush ride in the coach next to Corinna. It was a long road to Midkemia. Rai'dley had tried to point out how friends were a weakness; how they could be used against a person. She tried to torment Corinna by making her friends suffer, but Gerrod didn't know. In the end, it was only through her friends that Corinna had succeeded in defeating Rai'dley. It seemed that he had spent so many years avoiding his friends that he never considered how much his friends could have been helping him.

A warm glow passed through him. He dreamt of the day they returned the Orb to its place and were able to meet their friends in Oswegonia again.

"What a Reunion that will be," he thought.

# ####

