Interlude: Joachim Vernes And the Shadow over Ironwood Part II: The Journey to the Forest 16/06/09 11:00

Joachim, Glory, and Rose left Ironcliff early the next morning. Glory was still suspicious, and wanted to wait and hire on someone else, another warrior or a trap finder, if they could get one. But the forest was a full day’s travel from the town on foot, and none of them had the resources to buy horses at the moment, much less hired security. The task was down to the three of them.

They made good time, but were none the less racing the sun the whole day. None of them wanted to be caught by surprise after dark. The previous night’s attack by the Drow had been taxing, and there would surely be a repeat event if they were careless. Glory took to keeping the little crossbow in her hands loaded, even though she didn’t really know how to use it.

She wanted to take the clear sky and warm weather as a good omen, but she couldn’t make herself believe it. The roads were deserted, and the birds were silent in the trees. She watched them as they walked, perching and switching from foot to foot in the branches, turning their heads in every way. Something was definitely wrong.

Around midday, they stopped at a farm along the route to buy some food and ask for information. The house was small and poor, but the woman who met them was friendly, and the excitable hound that trailed her to door was the first normal animal they had seen all day. All three of them began to relax. Sharing a bit of a black loaf of bread she had prepared for her husband and sons in the field, the woman said that she knew nothing of the forest, though the traffic was quiet these last few days. They were nearly finished with lunch when the dog froze and perked its ears. After a moment, it turned to the east, reacting to a sound only it could hear, and howled madly. All four rushed outside, but there was nothing to be seen, save for the barest hint of black clouds, far away. The woman could do nothing to stop the dog, so they pressed some silver in her hand and started walking again.

The stillness returned. Not even a breath of wind stirred the trees. Joachim was even unnerved, and fell to keeping his staff in his hands and using it as a walking stick. They saw nothing, though, and soon the trees hemmed in closer to the road and they were in a little wood, although nothing so grand as ironwood trees grew there. They kept walking. Perhaps because she grew tired of the silence, Rose asked Glory a question.

“I have never seen a weapon of such quality before, Magus. How did you come by it?” The two stopped walking, and shared a tense look. There was a story behind the crossbow, and they weren’t sure they should share it. Finally, Glory spoke, and began to walk again.

“This is Wind. It is one of two hand crossbows that belong, maybe belonged to my fiance.”

“Your fiance?” Rose asked, falling into place behind her and leaning down to better talk. Glory sighed. A mouse darted out of the underbrush and across the road, disappearing on the other side.

“He was from my village, and we ran away together with a group of others, hoping for grand adventures and so forth. After I was able to attend the Magician’s Academy in Carabos, he took on work there as a guard, and later a policeman.”

“He was a tracker?” A crow cawed somewhere ahead of them.

“He was more than that. He was their inside man in the Halfling community. He even managed to get into one of the thieves guilds.”

“That’s dangerous work, pretending to be something you aren’t,” Rose said solemnly. Glory coughed.

“Eventually, the ring disbanded, and if they knew that their troubles stemmed from Bindle’s acts, he never knew it. When I graduated, he watched my back, and eventually our path crossed with Joachim, and we’ve been working together ever since, until the incident last month.”

“What happened?”

“We were hired to clear out a camp of kobold squatters that had set up camp outside of a city up north. They had been raiding the outlying farms, and the reward wasn’t bad. We didn’t think much of it. We were just passing through, and it seemed like an easy job. Kobolds don’t usually form large enough bands to do much aside from raid cattle and steal crops. We didn’t take the threat seriously. We should have.”

“They defended themselves?” A squirrel, lost from sight in the trees, chittered out a complex phrase, trying to drive them away.

“They did so, very thoroughly. Their tactics were much more advanced than other bands we had taken in the past. Usually it was a matter of defeating the strongest member of the clan, who is invariably the head, in combat, and then ordering them off. Kobolds don’t put much stock in weapons, and prefer to rely on their own claws and fangs. These ones were different. They were working with someone, but we never found who. They had been supplied weapons and armor much better than what they could make themselves, even if they had been stealing raw materials. They used sophisticated hit and run tactics, using the woods and hills as cover, striking us in ambush and melting into the trees. We followed, as retreat is often a valid strategy for them. They are small creatures, and find safety in numbers. But instead of leading us to their leader, they sprung a trap. Bindle tracked them back to their base, but he was so intent on the trail that he didn’t find the trap until it was sprung. Even it was strange. It was also way too complex for them. A kobold’s trap usually consists of a pit covered with leaves, or perhaps a tripwire. This was complex, mechanical. I doubt they could have built it on their own. It wasn’t just a simple foot catch, but once they had him upside down, his weight activated the suspended branches. He was impaled where he hung. By the time we caught up to him, there wasn’t anything we could do to save him.”

“For those taken by violence, there is much that a church could do, even for one that has passed.”

“Sister, you must know that the price for returning the dead to life is very dear. We took him to the healer as soon as we could, but the price was more that we could pay. All we could do was preserve him. That is the reason we are looking for work. Only with a sizable donation will the church of Hattori call back his soul. This is what we are fighting for.” Rose gestured ahead of them. The rode bent around a hill mostly clear of trees.

“The Ironwood itself begins just beyond this rise.” It was late afternoon, and the sun filtered lazily through the green leaves, leaving long shadows on the ground. Suddenly, there was a roar of wings as all of the hidden birds, as though waiting for Rose’s signal, took flight in a storm of feathers and cries. Joachim lowered Incisor, putting the ivory blade parallel to the ground.

“Something’s coming,” he said. The was a sound of shuffling, and a the sound of a small animal, and then the single sound was a chorus of chirps and a crowd of tiny paws. And then the mass turned the corner of the hill and they saw it.

There were thousands of them, running as though possessed, moving with incredible speed. The three of them could do little but steel themselves against it as the horde passed. The air was filled with insects, and the road was covered in vermin.

“Rats?” Joachim asked, picking his way through the tiny stampede.

“The Ironwood is home to many animals, and these creatures can instinctually sense wrongness. When the sun does not rise for three days, what can they do but migrate?” Rose answered.

“We have to get to higher ground!” Glory shouted. Eventually, the three of them were able to get onto the hill. There were more of them, there seemed more every moment, as though the strange exodus would not end.

“What could make them do something like this?” Joachim asked.

“Hmm,” Glory said, almost to herself. “I’m not a naturalist by trade, but there is something more migration to this. There is a fear. We are close, aren’t we, Rose?”

“Yes, the forest should be visible just over this rise.”

“I can sense powerful magic ahead of us. I’ve never felt anything like this.” Glory held a glass rod in her hands. It seemed to be pulling towards the top of the hills. The tip was glowing, and shaking violently.
“What kind of magic?” Joachim asked.

“I don’t know. Something strong, and ancient. Let me see…” She concentrated on the rod, finding something in the light that filled the glass that the others could not see. “There is something conjured, and something else, protection, perhaps. There are other things, very many spells, covering one another. The foulest kind of magic, though. Something fiendish.” There were many dark gods, demons and devils that twisted magical energies towards their own ends. Below them, the creatures were getting larger, as well as more numerous. Rabbits and raccoons came rushing on, and there were the hooves of other animals, deer perhaps, in the distance. The three of them began climbing.

It was not long before they reached the top of the hill. The valley, and the Ironwood were clear before them, but neither Joachim nor Glory could quite believe what they saw. It was as though a dome of night had fallen over the forrest. The wind howled at the top of the hill, threatening to push them over the edge and onto the mossy rocks below.

“Is it a magician’s darkness?” Joachim asked Glory.

“No,” she said slowly, studying the effect from a distance with her wand. “Magical dark is pitch black. It is more of a warding against eyesight. This is something else. It is very dark, but you can see the deeper shadows of the trees. It is a spell to blot out the sun, perhaps. I don’t know what could cause it.”

As they watched, a tall, lumbering creature emerged from the shadowy woods. Its movements were erratic, and strange, as though it were unused to traveling on the ground, but it was much to heavy to fly. It seemed a massive mixture of bird of prey and hunting beast, and was at least nine feet from beak to tail. It ran and fell, it crawled, jumped and dived. It moved on two legs and on four. It leapt and stretched its arms and fell to the mud. It bristled strange feathers and got back up again. The creature’s hind legs were long, and powerful. The front legs were much shorter, with skin that stretched in flaps beneath it. The thing’s face was two piercing yellow eyes set over a maw that was something not quite a hard beak, but not a true snout either. Something in between the two.

“What in the gods names is that thing?” Joachim asked, almost rhetorically.

“Many strange creatures grow in the magic of Ironwood. We call that creature a meglisaew. In spite of its size, it sits in the branches of the ironwood trees and pounces on the prey below.”

“What does it eat?” Joachim asked, fascinated.

“Anything it wants,” Rose said. “They are not docile creatures at the best of times, but like the other celva, the animals of the forest, it is mad with fear. It will hurt someone if we do not do something about it.” Rose pulled her wooden sword from her belt and thrust it in front of herself. She held it awkwardly, as though she expected it to attack her. Joachim spun his spear in his hands and grinned.

“Meglisaew,” Glory whispered to herself, sounding out the elvish words. “An owl bear… how interesting.” The creature came on, the taloned feet crushing the lesser animals beneath it. It was mad with rage, and climbed the rise faster than its gait implied possible.

As soon as the beast cleared the crest, Joachim charged forward to face it. His magical spear Incisor flashed red in light of the setting sun. The owl bear jumped an spread its limbs wide. Feathers and folds of skin flattened and rode the currents of warm wind rushing towards the forrest. For a moment, it seemed as though it could really fly. It spread four sets of sharp talons underneath itself and stared at Joachim like a hawk would a rabbit. The warrior was undeterred. He ran and jumped, leading with the blade of his enchanted weapon, and striking the thing squarely in the chest. It cried and swiped at him, but he wrenched with nearly inhuman strength, keeping the strong claws that could tear and rip through flesh and bone alike a hair’s breadth away. Then, momentum took both combatants over the precipice and they were lost from the others’ view.

Joachim put his faith in the spear, turned, and twisted in the air. The monster struggled and screeched, but he managed to put the thing between himself and the rapidly approaching earth. The impact of landing sent a wave of painful numbness through his arms, and the beast was still against the rocks.

Joachim pulled his weapon free and wiped the ichorous blood on the grass. Above him, Glory and Rose were picking their way carefully down a rock-strewn path and calling out to him. Joachim waved, and turned towards the night shrouded dome of the Ironwood forest towering above him. Without waiting for his companions, he entered the darkness alone.

Rain Delay 16/06/09 9:00

It’s raining buckets this morning. Last night the wind picked up, and I was awoken by the sound of thunder on the river, and the rain came on, hard and steady. It’s so bad that we haven’t left the inn. The instructors have been going out into the wild weather and coming back. The boat can’t leave until it lets up a bit, so we’re stuck here, at least until this afternoon. The captain, a stout man by the name of Pitt, with a big cap and long black beard, came in at breakfast and begged the mages to do something about the storm, but they claimed no skill with weather. We’re just going to have to wait it out.

I’m sharing a room with Gloria, but we’ve barely said anything to each other. She went back to the book after dinner, and wouldn’t show it to me. Is it a grimoire? A book of magic? It is old, and leather-bound. Last night after we turned in, I couldn’t sleep. I thought she was awake too, but she didn’t say a word when I whispered. Then I heard the rasp of pages turning, slowly and carefully. I wonder how she can read in the dark? In the night, I tried to see if she had a light, something small and hidden, and I concentrated, hard. For a second, it almost seemed like the book glowed green. It didn’t illuminate anything, but it was almost like I was seeing it with my minds eyes. The pendant that Tarry gave me does the same thing. Yesterday when I had the chance, when I was alone, I took it out and looked at it. After minute, it seemed to sparkle blue, but it wasn’t a reflection. It wasn’t coming from the candle or the fire. Tarry was right. It is magic. Maybe it will protect me.

Dad’s been busy this morning. In spite of the weather, he is going to get as quick a start as he can on the rest of his journey. He is headed next to Tungal Hill, one of the tiny fortress kingdoms north of the city. He will be spending a few weeks with Lydia and the baby, and picking up some copper to take back to the smiths in Lysander, I think. He’s been trying to resupply his cart for the journey, a good couple of days yet through who knows what terrain. I’m a bit worried for him. The roads are dangerous, and the northern kingdoms are often too busy fighting one another to give much thought to the safety of the highways, or even to the wall on the Hydraal border, the last defense. It is dangerous to go alone. Even grandfather, the great Orc Hunter, by his well-earned reputation, almost never travelled by himself. He told me that even the most innocent-looking copse of trees could house bandits, or worse. I remember clearly his example, the march from Ironcliff to the forest with Rose and Glory. Since we’re stuck here until the storm lets up, and there is nothing left for me to do for Father but wish him a safe trip when he goes, I may as well recount the tale.

On the Instructors 16/06/08 21:00

It’s after dinner now, and the fear and the thrill of the Slaver attack is beginning to wear off. After we had made introductions, the Magus and Mr. K (he goes by the letter, and if it’s short for something or not I have no idea. He’s a very strange man.) rescued the people that had been taken hostage. Apparently, they were from the outlying farms and villages. We offered the cart to those who were badly hurt, and the trunk with the gold was moved up front with Dad to make room. I walked alongside. The damage from the band seemed pretty bad, but I guess it would have been worse if it wasn’t for the Mages who were staying here waiting for us. The band had attacked and plundered the farms, and was moving on to the town when they were discovered by the mages. A few of the buildings in town were burned, but the fires were put out quickly, thanks to the nearby river. The bandit chief was fighting with Magus Celon, and a small group of them tried to cut their losses and make a break for it. They ran into us, and the mages came and took them down when they were done with the ones in town. Unfortunately, there’s not much of a system of justice out here in no man’s land, so most of the ones who weren’t killed in the attack are going to be executed without a trial. If any. The town itself actually has pretty good defenses, with big stone watchtowers on both sides of the river. It’s a big, slow thing, with murky brown water.

The boat, a big, multi-story Gnomish river boat with a device of some kind that paddles it, won’t leave until tomorrow afternoon, but it’s docked already, and Magus Celon thinks that the brigands were trying to intercept a grain shipment that they’re unloading now. He talked a lot during dinner. Both of them ar instructors at the Academy, and Magus Celon took the opportunity to try and give us first lessons in table etiquette. If he’s going to be like that the whole way, it’s going to be a LONG trip, but Dad said I should take advantage of it.

Gloria and I have barely said two words all day. She knows magic, too, real magic, but she didn’t tell me. I wonder if she’s got uncontrollable magic in her too? But if she did, why won’t she say something to me. She just reads her book all the time. Mr. K barely said two words all day. But a couple of times I could feel his eyes on me, like he was trying to decide what it was I am. It made me uncomfortable. Magus Celon seems to be the superior, but he defers to Mr. K on all matters concerning the trip. I wonder why that is? Fully standing, he’s seven feet tall, and he’s got these huge muscles. I thought he would break the chair at dinner. He’s pretty scary.

In any event, I asked Magus Celon a ton of questions, but he gave these really long winded answers without actually giving me any information. It’s all ‘wait and see.’ I’m traveling with two mysterious gentlemen, I guess. How romantic! Our ship leaves tomorrow noon! I can’t wait!

The Greeting Party 16/06/08 19:00

I shouldn’t have worried. I’ve never seen him fire one before, but Dad is a master at the crossbow.

It was about midday. We were making good time. The flatlands were slowly turning greener as we got closer to the river. There was a rise ahead of us, and on the plains we could just make out the haze in the sky where towns and rivers were hidden. The town was perhaps an hour away. The wind on the abandoned plains was dusty and hot. I didn’t notice anything was wrong until Dad shouted at us to hide in the hay.

I looked around. I couldn’t see far because of all the dust in the wind. Ahead of us, there were great big clouds of it. And above it, something else on the wind. It was the smell of fire. I asked Dad what was happening. He pushed the horses harder, cracking the reins with one hand while reaching for the bow with the other. I reached over and handed it to him. It was much heavier than I expected. There was a black silk strap fastened to it. In the folds of it, the bright, sharp points of bolts caught the light. Dad slung it over his shoulder.

“Bandits,” he said simply, and turned back to the horses. I ducked back into the hay. Next to me, Gloria had nestled herself down. She was already half hidden, and was absorbed in reading her book. She seemed completely lost in it, and was reading to herself, so low that I couldn’t make out the words. Bandits, I thought. Part of me was terrified, and part of me was really excited. I clutched my dagger, in case one of them tried to get at us.

Grandfather was a mighty slayer of bandits, in his day, bringing order where order could not bring itself. He was fond of saying, although always out of earshot of the authorities, that much of his business was founded by liberating the gold that had been taken from the innocent. He was a hero to these sorts of little villages, the kind that could only afford to give him bread. He said that other, more stuck up adventurers turned down that kind of offer, but he’d always snap it up. The bandits, he said, always had extra gold.

When they emerged from the wall of smoke and dust, they weren’t anything like the romantic images I got from Grandfather. From somewhere ahead of us there was the sound of a horn, then, more sounds. A thundering ran through the ground, and the plains shook with the force and the echoing sounds of hooves, paws, and claws. Then, the debris parted, and they were riding out towards us.

They were a filthy and entirely mismatched band. They wore rags and whatever bits of old leather or rusty metal they could find for armor. Most of them were human, but there were others: gnomes on snarling war dogs and dwarves on shaggy ponies. There were even a few orcs on their monstrous, goat-like mountain beasts, and goblins, renegades of the swampy north riding wolves that howled and snarled as they came. Some of them had bundles of stolen goods on their saddles, and others, mainly the orcs and men, were dragging women and children stumbling behind their chargers. These weren’t bandits at all, but slavers!

Rag-tag though they were, the slavers were well armed, at least, and each rider brandished a club or sword as they rode across the plain towards us. Father wasted no time, but fired his first shot before they were within a hundred feet of us. The bolt shot from the bow impossibly fast, and left a trail of silver sparks behind it. There was a bright flash, like a lightning strike, where the bolt came to rest. It struck one of the horses in the neck. The beast threw its rider and trampled him, but the horde, if they took notice of their comrade at all, kept coming. They were a great number, at least fifteen riders coming closer with every second. Dad reloaded, and I hunkered down in the cart and tried to hide myself some more. I shook Gloria’s shoulder, and tried to warn her of the danger, but she just looked at me sharply and kept reading from that leather-bound book of hers. It was sized for a human, and seemed almost comically huge in her delicate, doll hands. But this was no laughing matter.

I couldn’t see them coming from where I was hidden, but I heard the noises of ratchet, line, and bolt as Dad reloaded the crossbow again and again. But the sound of hooves got closer anyway, until we were surrounded. I peeked my head up from my hiding place. There were ten of them left, and they circled the cart, occasionally striking at my father when they were close enough, trying to batter him down before he could reload. He used the heavy ironwood stock of the bow as a club, and knocked one of them off his pony, but he got back up, and swung at Dad with his short sword. I thin stream of red blood appeared on his leg, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out.

Dad couldn’t hold them off forever, and what could Gloria do to help? It was up to me. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer, but I breathed deep and thought about the fire. Fear and pain had brought out those spells in me before, but I could barely remember them. They were like a dream I could recall parts of, or a song whose melody I knew, but had lost the words to. I was sure that my fear would be the key. It had come to me before, when Dad was conscripted, and beneath the hill in Shadyborough. It wasn’t there. I was powerless.

“Dad, we have to run! We have to get out of here!” I shouted at him.

“We can’t run, poppet. Even if we could brake from them, they’d just ride us down. And I owe your Grandfather far too much to waste all the training he gave me growing up like that. I may not have been the warrior he wanted me to be, but I’ll be damned if I’ll show this rabble my back. Stay low, and stay quiet!” He managed a shot on one of the Orcs. I would swear that I saw the bolt curve in its path, and the shot that should have missed struck the rider squarely in the back, toppling him in a shower of silver lights.

But there were still too many. One of the bolder ones, a Gnome, brought his riding hound in close, and dismounted with a clipped order in his people’s tongue. The beast meekly lay down, and he stood. He was covered in dust and dirt, and wore a tattered blue cap that was probably blue beneath the grime. His face was covered by a thin and patchy goatee. Swaggering like a lord returning to his manor, he walked over to the cart and hopped into the back. I watched his eyes turn from one corner to the other, and his nose sniff the air, as though testing it for something. He finally caught the site of Gloria and smiled unpleasantly. As he descended upon her, she just closed her book and sighed. She kept mumbling, though and although I couldn’t understand the words, I finally realized that it was a spell. As the brigand got closer and unsheathed a tarnished dagger, she clamped her hand down on his wrist, much to his surprise. Things happened very quickly after that.

“Shocking. Grasp.” She recited the two common words crisply and sharply, with the ring of confidence and satisfaction in her voice. Then there was a pop, and her hand flashed blue, for just a second. The next moment, he was on the ground of the plain, shrieking and shaking. His cap was smoking on his head. Her spell wasn’t very strong, I could somehow tell, but the lightning that gathered in her hand had thrown him from the cart. At the front, Dad was still doing his best, but the noose was tightening on us. A man climbed in and stabbed him in the back with and axe. He cried out in pain, and bent forward. I shouted, and that’s when the lightning appeared.

It cleft out of the sky and forward like a living thing. It leapt from one slaver to the next, arcing and hissing sparks. My hair stood on end, even though it was never closer than five feet from me. For the first second, I thought that I had done it, until I saw the figure descending from the sky.

“That’s Chained lightning,” Gloria whispered to me. “I’ve seen Grandmother Gloriana do it once. It’s highly advanced magic.” We watched the man descend, and to me he seemed to me an angel. He wore white robes, although the hem was stained with dust and ashes, and his hair was long, and silver, not gray, like an aging person’s, but a pure and shining mane. It streamed about and framed his features as he descended. His skin was firm and pale, as though he was carved from white marble, and his eyes were violet and set at an angle in his long face. They rested just below his long and pointed ears. He was no angel, but an Elf!

In the wake of his spell, the riders had broken in chaos. Only a few were still mounted, and those that were scattered. A few who had lost their horses were limping towards what they thought was safety. Now I understood. They weren’t riding towards us, but they were riding away from their pursuer!

A second figure robed in white appeared, with a high cowl blocking the view of his face. The bandits, who had begun to fall into formation again, scattered, but not before he raised his hands and some kind of ray, like a foggy cone of blackest night filled the space between them. The riders and runners fell, and the two figures came together and walked towards us. The second lowered his hood, and together they seemed opposites of one another. The Elf’s companion was a Man, tall where the Elf was short, and muscular where he was slender. He was completely bald, without even eyebrows or lashes, and his skin was very, very dark. He seemed carved of the rare, tropical wood that my father sometimes traded in. As they got closer, I could see that their robes bore, in one tiny corner, a familiar crest. They were of the Carbein Academy of High Magic, where Gloria’s grandmother taught, and we were to be students.

Father could barely sit up, much less stand to meet them. Without a word, the Man checked his pulse, pulled a tiny blue vial from the pocket of his robe, and poured the contents down his throat. Dad coughed, stood up straighter, and rubbed his back. It was the Elf that greeted us warmly, though.

“Good afternoon. I am Magus Celon, of the Carbein Academy of High Magic, and this is my associate, Mr. Kay, of the same. Would I be mistaken in identifying you as the merchant Master Vernes and his charges?”

Interlude: Joachim Vernes & The Darkness Over Ironwood pt. 1: The Elfmaid

The three of them sat staring at each other from across a round table. Joachim was bored. The girl was quite pretty, with long brown hair in simple plaits, and violet eyes that shimmered in a way that told him she wasn’t as young as she looked. The surer sign of her age, or rather her agelessness was a pair of long, pointed ears set low on her head. The elves aged slowly by the measure of mankind. She was probably old enough to have delivered his great grandfather, and not aged a day since. In any case, the symbol etched into her torn and muddy blouse took any thoughts of her out of his head. Embroidered on the green fabric was a golden oak beneath a single silver star. A symbol of the Elvish clergy. She would not be wooed by him.
Glory was likewise examining her closely, out of suspicion more than admiration. She was cautious, and didn’t like the look of the Elven refugee. She sat on a stool with her legs tucked under her, so that despite her slight Halfling frame, she seemed to tower over the other woman.
“Please begin again,” she said, “What happened to your patrol, Miss…”
“Please call me Sister Rose, if it please you.” The words came haltingly. She was unfamiliar with common speech. “I am a chaplain to a logging camp on the edge of the Ironwood Forest, less than a day’s travel from here.
“Why come to us? Why come here, to the lands outside the Forrest? Why didn’t you seek out Elves to aid you?”
“I… I escaped, and I couldn’t find my way. When I emerged, I was too far from my people to go to them for help. Taking the long way around the forest would have taken too much time, and I feared I would have been too late!” There was pain in her face, as though saying the words brought the horror of her experiences back to vivid life.
“I don’t understand. The Sylvan tribe is well known for their affinity with the woods. However an elf become lost in her own woodlands?”
“The invaders brought something with them. A magic that harms my people, and made me lost.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know your word for them. In my language they are the Cursed Ones, the Drow.” She pronounced the word as though curse was what it was. It came haltingly, with disgust. The color drained from Glory’s face. Joachim looked from the one woman to the other, confused.
“Eh? Am I missing something? Who are these crow guys?”
“Not crow, you lummox,” Glory said. “DROW, the Dark Elves.”
“I’m still lost.”
“I’ve never seen one myself, but the oldest texts in the Academy mention them. They were said to be the strongest and wisest of the elves, once.” Rose said nothing at this. Her face was a mask of hatred. “They were led by the Matriarch, a woman whose magical power was said to rival that of the Great Archanist himself, in the first age of the world.” Glory paused and took a sip of mulled wine.
“But as is so often the way, their power was only matched by their pride, and they sought more and more power, making pacts with the worst of fiends for greater and greater secrets. The elder gods, particularly the creator of the elves, became so wroth at their deeds that they cursed the entire tribe, down to the smallest child. Their hearts had turned so far from the light that the gods deemed that they would never again be able to tolerate the light of sun, nor moon, nor even starlight. They fled deep under the earth, and from the Underdark they subjugated the other evil races that wait under the mountains, to one day take revenge on the surface dwellers. That is the version of the tale I have heard, in any case.”
“It is close enough in detail,” said Rose. “The Drow can stand no light, and thus we supposed that they could neither revenge themsevles upon nor conquer their former brothers and sisters. We of the younger generations considered them a fable at best, or locked within the earth. Although around campfires we would tell tales of dark, winter nights when they would rise from their hidden caves and stalk the woods, looking for Elves to murder. I know better than to scoff at the old stories, which are the best lessons, but I never worried they would find a way to break free of their prison!”
“How were they able to accomplish such a feat?” Glory asked. Joachim suspected her curiosity had less to do with finding a solution to the problem than it did the acquisition of some hidden knowledge.
“I am not sure of how,” Rose said, examining the glass of wine like a crystal ball. “But they have summoned a night that engulfs the wood.”
“Magical darkness wouldn’t be practical. They would be unable to see themselves, even with special senses.”
“It is not magical darkness, but eternal night, as I have said. We feared that they snuffed out the sun, but beyond the wood it still shines. Perhaps It is beyond my ability with your language to explain. They struck quickly, and without warning. They came from under the earth. One moment it was day, the next night, and then they were upon us in our confusion. They have creatures of the deep earth with them, and they have killed or captured many of us. I alone escaped to find rescue. That is how I came seeking mercenaries. Are you strong of steel and spell?”
“We are.” Joachim said, before Glory could deny it. They had lost good work before because she wasn’t interested in it.
“If you assist me in freeing my people, we may be able to drive the Drow out, and bring peace to my land.”
“We are expensive.” Joachim said.
“I cannot speak for my, I am not sure of the common word for it, King, Perhaps? But I am certain you would would be well rewarded. Probably with a cutting of ironwood each, for a start.”
“I’m sorry, a cutting?”
“The amount one elf might harvest in one period of work. A pile ten feet on each side, perhaps?” Joachim’s eyes lit up. He resisted breaking into a grin.
“That might be enough to procure our services. Allow me to confer privately with my associate.” He stood, and Glory hopped down from her stool. They moved off to a dark corner of the room.
“A pile of ironwood ten feet high!” He tried to whisper. “That’ll be more than we need for certain, with enough to buy a knighthood left over!”
“I don’t know. It seems too easy. I think she’s hiding something.”
“Too easy? You worry too much. You’re traveling with the man who slayed the dragon Hailtooth, you know.”
“As I recall, you were only able to slay him once he was bound by my magics, and Bindle put a bolt in each of his eyes.” Glory said contemptuously.
Glory, ironwood is worth more than its weight in gold! We can have Bindle raised for sure with that much.”
“That is true,” She conceded.
“Keep your eye on what is important. We need our tracker back. You need your fiance back, might I add. Unless you’d rather be a widow than a bride.”
“I know, I know,” She said. “But I just don’t trust her. I can’t put my finger on it. If only I had prepared scrying.”
“This isn’t like you, Glory. What’s wrong?”
“There is something I haven’t mentioned about the Drow. They are not… Behind you!” There was the sharp retort of a slow heavy knock at the door. The door shook on its hinges, sending flakes of peeling green paint to the floor. The knock came again, cracking the frame from top to bottom. A third hit shattered the door, sending splinters flying in every direction. Rose screamed, and cowered. A looming shadow of a man stood in the doorway, a wickedly barbed mace in his mail gloved hands.
He was wearing a fine black robe, and his face was lost in the darkness of the hood. He took three heavy steps into the room, and bowed low to the woman behind him. She wore the same robe, pulled just as close over her features. However, while his covered the shapeless bulk of heavy armor, hers hugged the curves of her body, hinting at the fine and shapely form beneath it. Her hands were empty, and wrapped in soft leather gloves. A pair of long, wicked curved daggers hung from her belt.
“You gave us quite the chase, surface-trash. Your paltry goddess won’t save you this time,” the woman said. Her words were in an elven tongue, but where Rose’s accent was musical and graceful, her’s was harsh and brutish. Joachim didn’t understand the words, but the threat was clear, particularly when the figure began casting a spell, gesturing with her hands and chanting lost words.
Joachim didn’t wait for it to finish, but instead used every ounce of his speed and strength to kick over the heavy table and pull his companions behind it. He felt the sudden, searing heat of a fireball even through three inches of oak. He cursed.
“Glory, can you occupy these two for a while? I have need of my spear.”
“Maybe the mage, but not her bodyguard. Why don’t you simply call the thing to you?” She asked, gesturing in the air. Glory was preparing her counter.
“The spear will only do so once until its powers are recharged. I shouldn’t like to waste the chance. I suppose I’ll do this the old fashioned way, then. Cover me!” He dove out from behind cover and towards the far corner of the room, where their equipment was piled.
“Alright, stay behind me until the spell is done.” Glory leapt with surprising grace onto the charred edge of their makeshift barrier. The first inch of it was now nothing but ashes which crunched beneath her bare feet. “Oh, that’s hot!” She exclaimed. “Let’s cool it down a bit, shall we?” With that, she intoned the draconic words of power that finished the spell.
“North Wind, Lord of ice and snow, grant me your power to freeze those who dare to stand before me! CONE OF COLD!” A sudden, swirling blast of icy wind spread from her outstretched fingers, rushing through the robed figures and ripping at their clothing. Their hoods fell back to reveal skin their jet black skin, not bronzed or darkened by the sun in millenia, and long white hair that hung limp and dirty. They had a feral appearance, hard and sharp, from their pointed teeth to their blood red eyes. Though the room around them was suddenly covered in frost, the pair were unharmed. The woman laughed. Glory jumped back down quickly, narrowly avoiding a bolt of lightning from her opponent that slammed into the wall behind them and left a scorched blossom in the wall.
“Damnation,” she whispered. “The legend was truthful at that.” Glory gave Rose a hard look. “It would have been nice to have known that before hand.” The priestess shivered against the table and said nothing. She was stricken with fear.
Joachim reached his spear just as the warrior caught up with him. The dark elf swung a blow at the back of his head with his mace, but as quick as a snake, Joachim spun and blocked with the haft of his spear. The spear was bone white ash, five feet long and tipped with a pale, rune engraved head that was stronger than steel. It was called Incisor, and it had a long and colorful history. The Drow warrior fought with silent, mechanical strength. Joachim was barely keeping him at bay.
“What happened?” Joachim asked Glory through grit teeth. “It didn’t look like your spell did anything.”
“It should have froze them both in their tracks. But there was a scrap of information I remember reading once in the Academy. They say that the Drow went so far as to worship devils in exchange for power. Though the High Elves have always denied it. But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” Glory peaked out from behind the overturned table. The other Drow, the woman, was was watching her bodyguard fight the human. Her hands rested on her hips, and her lips were twirled in a cruel, thin smile.
“I didn’t get a good look at it,” Rose said, trembling, “but they have erected some kind of altar on the green. They summoned… horrible things with it.” She shivered again.
“Great. My magic can’t touch them, they have unholy protection,” Glory shouted. She reached into one of the many pockets of her coat and pulled out a pair of tiny objects. “We’ll have to do things your way, Joachim.”
“Let’s go then! Hard and fast!” Joachim suddenly shifted his position, breaking the weapon lock and pivoting on his heel. The warrior roared in triumph, but it quickly turned to a yelp of surprise as he realized that the mace’s momentum was pulling him down, and Joachim wasn’t where he had been when the swing started. The mace embedded itself in the hardwood floor. Whip-crack fast, Joachim spun and struck the otherwise heavily armored fighter in the back of the head with the butt of his spear. He was knocked to the floor. Joachim readied the spear to strike again, this time with the blade.
Behind him, the witch began casting a spell. She was nearly finished when a wooden bolt slammed into her shoulder. She screamed like a banshee and the spell was lost. Beside the flipped table, Glory held a tiny crossbow gingerly.
“This weapon isn’t mine,” Glory said to her in Elven. “I’m not very good with it. But from here, I doubt I’ll need to be.”
“You had a weapon hidden on you, hmm? Very well. I will lower myself to your base physical combat.” The witch laughed. “Fangs, your mistress has need of you. RISE AND BITE!” There was the high, slow song of a pair of blades sliding slowly free from their sheathes. Seemingly of their own will, the long knives on her belt pulled themselves free, hung impossibly through the air, and sped blade first towards Glory, diving like birds of prey. Glory dived back behind the table. The flying knives turned in the air to follow her and slammed into the surface of the table. Their tips bit right through and out the other side, not inches from the two women. Rose shrieked. The blades began to vibrate as they watched, attempting to wrench themselves free and strike again. Desperately, as fast as she could, Glory tried to reload the crossbow.
Joachim readied his final strike with the spear. He raised it high with both hands, when the warrior rose suddenly, catching him in the stomach with both of his armored elbows. Joachim fought for breath, but the wind was gone from him. his opponent reached his feet, turned, and pulled a sharply curved black scimitar from a hidden scabbard on his belt.
He lunged forward with the sword, and the shadows seemed to cling like a film to it. They hung in the air like contrails where the blade passed. Still breathless, Joachim brought Incisor down to block barely in time. The elf pressed the advantage with a series of deft swings, and Joachim was pushed back.
Glory finally managed to winch back the trigger of the bolt, confounded by the great torc of so small and delicate an object. She ducked out from behind the cover of the table, but the witch was waiting for her. She reached out one gloved hand and gripped her by the hair, roughly pulling her forward. The crossbow spun free from Glory’s grip and landed somewhere by the door. The elf intoned a single word, and Glory’s whole body was engulfed in burning pain. Livid streak of lightning stretched from the witch’s hand to Glory’s boots. She screamed in pain.
“Glory!” Joachim called to his stricken teammate, but his own opponent took advantage of his distraction, delivering a cut to his legs that buckled him. Joachim hit the floor, and his head struck harder. Everything swam in his vision. The Drow warrior stood over him, a smug smile of triumph on his sharp features. The sword was raised. Elsewhere, Glory screamed again as another blast of electricity coursed through her. Joachim was sure, though not for the first time, that they were going to die.
And then the miracle happened.
The light began as the tiniest twinkle, like a single star in the corner of his vision, then blossomed, grew to a mighty sun, and shone through the room. The Drow hissed and screamed. They recoiled in the sudden brightness. The mage dropped Glory without so much as a glance to her. She ran to her partner, who had lost his scimitar, and was trying to shield himself beneath his cloak. It didn’t seem to be working. She grabbed his arm, spoke a word of power so loud that it may as well have been a scream, and they both vanished.
The light faded, and Rose stood trembling where it had been. She explained, “The Drow cannot stand the light of the sun. Our goddess grants us the power to make daylight, on occasion.” She breathed deeply. She seemed exhausted by the effort. Joachim rose shakily to his feet. He legs would need seeing to, but he could walk. He managed to get to the priestess just as she fainted. Glory pulled herself up next to them. She held a handful of black ashes in her hands.
“This is all that remains of those knives. It seems their weapons burned in the daylight as well. Interesting. Well, put her to bed. I’ve got healing salve and bandages in my pack. I’ll heal you if you take first watch.”
“Alright. It looks like we’re in this now, whether we will it or not. We’ll leave as near as first light as you can be ready. I mean to see this forest, now that I’ve bled for it.” He found his spear and leaned on it. The Drow were as strong as legend. He couldn’t ask for anything better than that.

On The Border 16/06/08 15:30

We’re out of Halfling Territory and into the Borderlands! Eventually the farms got smaller and farther apart, and the hedges stopped. The road got rocky again, and now we’re in some kind of a scrubland. Once, this must have been a lively trade road. In spite of the cracked stones, we’ve been making good time. We’ve passed a few Halfling Wagons headed towards the Mountains, but After the War, the Dwarves became distrustful of the Humans. They’ve cut off almost all contact, and will only trade with the Gnomes and Halflings.
We’ve been traveling northeast for most of the day. In the distance, I can see the peaks of the Paladine Mountains. From here, they seem a very peaceful place, and I can understand why they would be the center of the Dwarven religious life. The peaks are high and majestic. We’re too far to reach them in a day’s travel, but even from here they tower over the plains.
A little while ago, we passed through a little gate town, the official end of Lithia. We are in a sort of no man’s land. Dad has taken out Grandfather’s old crossbow, and it’s sitting loaded and ready on the box seat next to him, while Gloria and I lay back here in the hay. Gloria pulled out a book from her pack, and hasn’t said half a dozen words to me since. I’ve just been watching the scenery and thinking.
The gate was only symbolic, of course. It was manned by two Halfling knights wearing the livery of the king as well as the insignia of Shadyborough. The real army hasn’t been out this far in years. The Orcish threat pulled them eastwards, and left the Halflings to maintain the shaky peace between Human and Dwarf. Most of the towns along the border disappeared. We’ve passed the remains of them. There were signs that led to empty fields, and the frames of old houses and barns, reclaimed by weed or wind or fire. I never thought about how fragile our civilization could be. Those that remain have raised militia, and turned themselves into tiny fortresses. I’ve heard that bandits and beasts roam the plains unchecked now. That’s the reason for the crossbow. With the amount of gold in my tuition we’re carrying, we’re ripe targets.
The bow is another of my Grandfather’s relics from his days wandering, and it is a treasure in and of itself. It is called a ‘Treaty Bow’ and it dates back innumerable centuries. The treaty weapons were the greatest symbols of friendship between the five peoples, and were used against the Orcs to great effect during the wars. It makes me kind of sad to realize that maybe the ones from the last war are the last. Grandfather told me a lot about them, and winning this one was one of his favorite conquests. They were crafted in Carbein, and each weapon shows the greatest talents of each of the Five People. The stock is carved from the finest Ironwood, gathered and shaped by the secretive elves, making the butt nearly as deadly a striking weapon as the ammunition. The fastenings and facings are of the finest Dwarven mithril, which reflects the purest and most beautiful light, while being stronger than steel. The bowstring is woven from the finest Halfling-raised silk, which will never snap no matter how far it is pulled. The crosspiece has been treated with the most exotic and powerful elixirs that humanity has to offer, making it as supple as it is strong. Finally, the whole weapon has been enchanted by the most powerful magic the Gnomes can cast, lightening the weapon, and ensuring that the bolts fly as swift and sure as the winds. It is as much a work of art as it is a weapon.
Grandfather told me the story of winning the bow from a Drowess who had somehow gotten ahold of it. He said that sort of thing was common. Some hero carries the sacred blade, or what have you off into monster-infested lands and falls there, leaving another soul, who has no right to it, to claim it. He said that his spear Incisor has a long and colorful history itself. But that is another tale. This one is rather long, and, having nothing else to do on the cart, I’ll try my hand at telling it. But I’m a bit worried. My grandfather was a fine warrior, who could split a match and a hundred paces. My father, who is wise and could sell an elf kindling, is a nearsighted merchant. If something happens, will he be able to fire it?

Leaving Shadyborough 16/06/08 10:30

The cart was pretty much loaded by the time I got my trunk downstairs.  I double checked the room to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind after dragging my trunk into the hall, then one of the porters came and helped me.  I had to get on the other side of it, though.  We wound the thing down the main stairwell, and through the front office door.  He went out the Halfling door by mistake, so I had to duck a little going through, but I managed it.   By the time we had gotten out into the yard, things had quieted down a bit.  Mr. Boflin took my end of the trunk, and they loaded it onto the wagon.  It nearly tipped, and I heard a jingling clatter from the strong box.  Mrs. Boflin was hugging her daughter tightly, wishing her goodbye.  Dad came up and loudly told me we were going.  He asked me, in public(!) if I had used the bathroom.  I was so embarrassed I prayed to Hattori to open up the ground beneath me like the long-suffering heroine in that story.  Of course, I’m not marrying an orc or anything, but the rules apply.  I was waiting to say my farewells to Mr. and. Mrs Boflin when Tarry came up and tapped me, quickly and nervously, on the back of my elbow.  I think he would have liked to have done me shoulder, but he couldn’t reach it.  He stood there silently, for a moment, looking at the ground.  I thought he was being unusually shy.  Finally, he mumbled what he had to say.
“I’m real sorry about yesterday.  Uh, You got hurt, and it was my fault.”  He said it to the dirt, but I’m sure it was meant for me.
“Don’t worry about it.  It’s our secret.”  I bent down.  “But you’re going to have to stop going off on your own like that.  Your sister isn’t going to be here to protect you, and she’ll worry.”  It felt weird talking like this to someone my own age.  He suddenly looked up at me with fierce eyes.
“You don’t get it.  I’m not just running off.  I’m being called to battle.  It’s hard to say how, I just know that I have to sometimes.  The town’s in constant danger!  The adults don’t see it.  Nobody understands!  I just want to save everyone, but then my vision always goes red, and… and…”  He couldn’t go any further.  He broke down sobbing and I hugged him close.      He was the same as me, and I didn’t know what to say to him.  I was going to the Illusory City to learn, but what would happen to him?  The Halflings weren’t really warriors these days.  Aside from a small school of their Shadow Warriors, that is.  Without his sister to protect and look after him, would they lock him up?  I knelt down and let him cry on my shoulder.  I knew everyone was watching us, but I whispered in his ear.
“You have a wonderful gift, Tarry.  I saw it yesterday.  But you owe it to everyone you care about not to let it consume you.  Train, and study, and grow stronger.  When your family really needs you, be ready.”  I don’t know why I said that, but it felt like the right thing to say.  Tarry stopped crying and reached into his pocket.  I thought he was going to pull out that fist of his, but instead, he came out with a long silvery chain.  At the end, was a large pendant, about an inch long, in the shape of a bird in flight.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  He pressed it quickly into my hand and whispered back in my ear.
“You saved my life with your magic, Lizzeth.  I found this in the ruins, but I want you to have it.  When you come back, you’ll see how much stronger I’ve gotten.”  His eyes were still wet, but he broke into a wide grin.  I smiled back as I stuffed the necklace into my pocket before anyone else could see.  We broke the hug, and we both got on with our goodbyes.  Gloria was watching me from the cart.  I climbed into the back and wedged myself between her and the cart.
“What did Tarry give to you, just now?  I couldn’t quite see.”  She demanded.  I was put back by her tone.  Tarry was right, after all.  Even if I didn’t know quite what I did, or how exactly I did it, I had saved our lives last night.  The future danger of accidentally blowing myself up or killing a friend pales compared to being torn to pieces by war-mad skeletons.  I decided that until we settled out our feelings on what happened the day before, I wasn’t going to trust her with the pendant, as much as I wanted to take it out and look at it again.  It is my first real present from a boy, even if he’s not a human and still a child.  He was quite impressive under the hill.  He might turn out to be a dashing little hero, with the right encouragement.
“Oh, nothing just a bit of shiny string he picked up.  You know how kids are.”  I brushed her off, but she wasn’t satisfied.
“Yeah, but Tarry has a habit of picking up dangerous things in the ruins.  Once he brought back a broken wand, and nearly gassed the house.  I just hope Mother can keep him inside now that I won’t be there to watch him.”  She looked at her family and brightened  They were gathering to see us off, and the gift was apparently quite forgotten.
She started waving and shouting, but I couldn’t bring myself to give my goodbye the same enthusiasm.  She thought Tarry should be locked up?  What did she think of me?  I know then that I couldn’t trust her with any more of my secrets.  I couldn’t count her as a true friend.  I patted my pocket, and felt the weight of the silver bird.  Dad climbed into the front seat, and cracked the whip.  We were off once again, but the sun felt cold.  What if the mages all were like Gloria?  What if I wasn’t going to be taught, but imprisoned, or worse, put down like a dire rat?  I shivered and watched the inn shrink away.  Soon, we turned against the hill, and they were lost to view.

The Checklist 16/06/08 7:00

Things look a bit brighter in the light of morning.  There was a weird silence over breakfast, but the three of us mostly studied our breakfasts without saying a word.  Our fathers made a joke of it, as usual.  I’m a little bruised this morning, but it isn’t anything serious.  I’ll just be a bit sore for a few days.  I wanted to speak with Gloria and Tarry alone, but everyone has been  rushing around all morning, and I haven’t had a chance to catch her.  Tarry has been helping our fathers load the wagon.  And I’m here double checking that I haven’t forgotten anything before we hit the road once again.  Here’s the checklist:
Six pairs of stockings…X
Six shifts…X
My Feast day dress…X
Three winter dresses…X
Three summer dresses…X
Muffler…X
My heavy lambskin cloak…X
My sun hat…X  (I’m wearing it right now, actually.)
Travel leggings & tunic (also worn)
The strongbox…X
My jewelry box…X
Travel papers…X
This diary and pen…X
That should be it.  Everything else is to be either bought in the city or provided by the Academy.  It’s time to close up the trunk again.  I can see that this is the last thing to go.  Gloria is already in the yard, watching our fathers place a pair of leather bags on the cart.  Those must be her luggage.  Tarry is down there too.  She’s speaking animatedly at him, but I can’t hear the words from out here.  He’s not paying attention.  He just keeps sticking his hands in his pockets and looking off into the distance, towards the hill.

Under the Hill 16/06/07 23:00

It has been a long day. My hands are still shaking so many hours later. I can’t calm down. I did… something. I performed magic somehow. This wasn’t something I can hedge, either. It wasn’t something fortunate that just happened, or a mysterious sound. I pulled fire from the air, and I’m not quite sure how I did it. I can’t be sure that I won’t kill someone else by accident.
Something is happening to me, and I am afraid. Worse yet, Gloria and Tarry saw it happen. They were almost hurt. I need to study. I need to find out what this is, before I hurt or kill someone that I care about. I still can’t think clearly. I hoped writing things down would help. But I can’t do it all at once. I’ll start at the beginning.
We woke up early for the festival. Over a quick three course breakfast, Mr. Boflin explained about the festival, which is held every year in midsummer. It’s called the “Leave Taking Festival.” Traditionally, the border between spring and summer is considered by Halflings as the luckiest time for traveling. So once a year, there is a farewell party. Gloria was one of the honorees this year, and we were humans, just along for the ride. After breakfast we hiked to the top of the hill for a religious service. I didn’t want to go, but Dad gave me one of his looks, and that was pretty much that. There was already a steady stream of pilgrims going up the hill by the time we got outside. I figured that my rare height advantage would make things easy, but the townsfolk were surprisingly quick and agile. I was practically running to keep up. My father was working just as hard. The road up the hill, at the very least, was not too steep. The road was paved in brick like the buildings in the shadow of the hill, and the hill formed a wall against one side. A wooden railing, at waist hight for a Halfling, protected travelers from wandering off of the edge. In the hill itself had windows and doors every few feet. Occasionally, as we passed, new members came outside and joined the march. They were singing a song, but it was in Halfling, and I couldn’t make out the words. Dad told me it was a song about a gathering, a traditional travel song and processional.
We cleared the top of the hill, and there was an amphitheater cut into the top. The entire floor of the theatre was a massive mosaic shaped like the holy symbol of Barley, the Halfling goddess. It resembled a golden stalk of wheat crossed with a black sickle. The Boflins went to their usual seats, quite close to the front. Halflings aren’t overly concerned with rules, but they cherish respect, so they sort of live by an unwritten, unspoken consensus. Dad and I went with them, even though Dad had to sit on the isle because he couldn’t comfortably fit on the half-sized benches. I sat on the end, and hunkered down in my seat. The woman behind me gave me a nasty glare, as though I was purposefully trying to block her view.
On the other side of the theatre was a set up for musicians and effects. I watched as the technicians pulled some levers, and the sunlight filling the amphitheater was suddenly prismatic. The musicians began, and the congregation began to sing, again in halfling. I tried to find a prayer or songbook, but there was nothing to follow along with. Dad whispered to me that the song was a prayer of thanksgiving for the new day and for the fertility of the fields and the growing things. During the song, the celebrants, two men and an elderly woman, came down the center aisle. They blessed people and shook hands as they came down. She gave the service in Halfling, and even though she pointed at me several times, I have absolutely no idea what she said. The woman behind me kept shushing Dad every time he tried to tell me.
The service was surprisingly short. It couldn’t have lasted more than one half of an hour. There was a short reading, a response, and a little sermon. I don’t know what she said, but the congregation spend much of it laughing. Even Dad chuckled once or twice, although I think he looked embarrassed. After the ceremony, there was a sort of informal town meeting, with lots of shaking hands and jokes. Dad and I were introduced as good friends of the Boflins, and friends of the town. There were many stories told about my grandfather and Mr Boflin’s mother. A few of them were told in common, but I’m too embarrassed to write them here. Still, if half of what they said was true, I didn’t know the old man had it in him!
The meet and greet went on for a long time, then the congregation broke for an early lunch, which to the Halflings is an official meal, followed by late lunch, tea, and supper. The entire congregation moved to the row of stalls and tents on the main street. The fair was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. There were rows and rows of stalls selling food, trinkets, and just about anything you could imagine! There were these totally boring displays from the local guilds, showing new beast carts and barrels and thing like that. Barrels! Who would want to go see a display about a new kind of barrel? There was a breeding competition for the best local growing as well as for animals. There were even Halfling burden beasts and riding dogs!
The Halfling burden beast is the most awesome animal I’ve ever seen. They’re like some kind of domesticated pygmy wyverns. The Halflings use them to pull wagons and for milling and things like that. The wild ones are nasty carnivores living down in the southern jungles.
I was bored off my feet, but Dad and Mr. Boflin were strangely interested. Gloria and I tried to slip back to the midway, but Mrs. Boflin made us take Tarry with us. Tarry has some kind of problem, I think, but nobody talks about it. Even though he’s my age, he’s kept on a string, to keep him from wandering off. It wasn’t like this last time they visited. I wonder what happened.
We took him back with us, and we grabbed some fish and chips from one of the stalls, and we watched the performers. Tarry watched happily, and he seemed normal enough, but Gloria kept looking at him; watching him out of the corner of her eye, as if he were about to explode or something. It freaked me out. The wandering performers were jugglers, bards, and clowns, who danced down the streets and stopped at some of the tables. They were actually quite good, particularly the tumblers. A few makeshift stages were also set up for concerts, plays, acrobats, and even a magician!
The magician was unbelievable. He wore a black robe embroidered with red roses, and his tall, pointy hat matched. He threw fire, he lifted a brick without touching it, and he pulled doves from out of thin air. It was amazing! I hope that when I become a mage, I’m half as skilled as he is. I was watching the performance with Gloria and Tarry, who kept trying to run off. She said she wasn’t impressed, that he was a fake, but at the end, when he disappeared in a flash and a cloud of smoke that smelled like flowers, I thought, this is what magic should be. His placard read “Periel the Magnificent, Magician to Queens and Emperors.” I guess there is much more to magic than running a dusty old shop or exploring moldy ruins.
I was so wrapped up in the performance that it wasn’t until it was over that I noticed that Tarry had run off. Gloria hadn’t realized it either. Somehow he had slipped out of the hold on his wrist, and tied his end to a chair instead. Then he sort of tipped the chair so it would feel like he was still tugging on the line. He must have done it and been gone in less than a minute. Gloria immediately panicked.
“We should go find your parents,” I suggested.
“No, they’ll only chide me for losing him, and it’s getting dark. We have to find him and get back to the inn before supper.” She was starting to calm down, but I doubted that we could find him on our own. We didn’t even know where he had gone. I didn’t know where to start looking. The city was a mystery to me.
“I know where he’s gone. The same place that he always goes. The reason we have to keep such a close eye on him is that he has… wild blood in him.” She said it gravely, as though it were a curse, or a fatal disease, but I had no idea what she meant.
“Wild blood? I don’t understand.” She looked at me as though she shouldn’t have to explain, like I was an idiot, or a foreigner, but I am the later. She sighed and started walking, motioning me to follow.
“Before we settled here, ours was a wandering tribe. The Halflings would go from place to place, seeking a promised land, a shire we could call our own. It hasn’t been long since we settled here. But something of the old ways still survives in us. It was a gift of the our patron, the Goddess, Lady Barley. Some of us are born warriors, with powers that could be used to protect us, even against foes twice or three times our size. It is a power of chaos that served the tribe well. But we have since settled, and there is little use for the old powers of the blood. But Tarry, well, it pumps in his veins, guiding him to the one place he can really use it.” Gloria led me back towards the hill. We took twists and turns quickly, as though Gloria had the route memorized, had taken this journey many times before. We sped into seedier, darker parts of the city, past tanners and blacksmiths, as the light of the afternoon faded around us.
“So he’s going somewhere to pick a fight?” I couldn’t keep track of the turns we were taking. I’d have to rely on the two of them to get back to the inn. I was worried, and in the back of my soul, the worry was spinning, like a top, only faster and faster. Something bad was about to happen, and I could feel it starting to uncoil.
“Something like that,” Gloria said through panting breaths. She was racing to overtake him, but we could barely hear his footfalls. “You know how children like to play heroes, and adventurers? We found out the hard way that Tarry wasn’t playing. Last year, one of his friends almost died. Then, the unthinkable happened.”
“What? What is it?” I asked as we turned a corner. Suddenly I knew. In front of us was the base of the hill, and set into it was a crack, black and menacing. It was just large enough for me to squeeze through, if I tied. Gloria stopped, and I slid to a halt just behind her. Tarry had gone into the ruins.
I still don’t know a great deal about the ruins of the old town, but that temple on the top of the hill, and that giant holy symbol carved into the amphitheater floor, were supposed to lay the restless spirits of the dead to rest. But something happened twenty years ago, during the war. I heard the rest of the story from Gloria, in whispers as we entered the cave.
“Do you still have your knife on you, the one your Dad gave you for protection?” She was deadly serious. I produced it.
“We aren’t going to have to fight anything in the ruins, are we?” My mind raced through what could be in there. Bats, darkmantles, mindflayers? I was suddenly terrified.
“I hope not. But against what’s in there a knife won’t do much good. Hold it out in front of you, yeah like that.” She said it without looking up. She looked squarely at the knife, and started waving her hands overing, saying complicated phrases. I knew she was doing magic, like the performer had done, but it felt, different somehow. It made my skin itch. She finished, and said the final, keystone word of the spell. “Light!” As I watched, the knife began to glow, dull red at first then orange-yellow, like it had be thrust in a fire, but there was no heat. “At least it will give us light to see by. We’ve got to hurry, though. The spell only lasts an hour, and the other spell I have is reserved for an emergency.” I held the knife in front of me and we stepped into the cave. Well, Gloria stepped in, I squeezed in behind her. Once we were inside, I was surprised to find I could stand without difficulty. This portion of the hill was like a stone shell, covering the ruins. The ground was uneven, and covered in uneven mounds of debris. There was something like a path winding through them. Gloria motioned me forward, and we walked down it, into whatever was waiting.
“The hill was raised in a ritual, so most of the ruins are untouched. The crack formed later, as an effect of the summoning.”
“The summoning?” I asked. “What summoning?”
“I’ll tell you the truth about what happened twenty years ago. Do you know of the fall of the Shield-biters?”
“Of course. It was an important event in The War. The god Hattori was trapped by an army of demon-maddened orcs, and he called a spectral army to fight for him.” It was a famous story, one of the rare early victories against the orcs, and Hattori had done it without calling upon his mortal servants.
“Where do you think that ghost army came from?” I stopped in my tracks, and stared at her. She turned back to look at me. She was serious.
“So the army, was the souls of those who had died here? And they still remain?”
“No, thankfully. Although there were an unusually high number of recorded hauntings after the battle, the priests have sent the souls on. What waits below are the bodies.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“When Hattori called back their souls he also called their physical remains, sealed here for a century. The body strives to reunite with the soul, the spark, which it has lost. When Hattori made an army of ghosts…”
“He created an army of zombies as well?”
“Some zombies, mostly skeletons. Nothing but animated, soulless killing machines, struggling for an exit. Fortunately, they haven’t found one. The holy symbol is strong enough to keep the corporeal dead in the ground, but they still walk these halls.” She broke into a run again, desperate to find Tarry before something horrible found him first. I kept up, the knife-torch shaking with my footfalls.
What was left, in the torchlight, was a dusty maze of devastation. A hundred years ago, it was a village. Now, it was dust, stones, and the debris of lives long since lost. Mercifully, we didn’t see any bodies, or people, or skeletons, I guess, but we saw lots of tracks in the dust. We managed to follow Tarry’s fresh, clear footprints in the dust, on top of so many other strange marks, left by shambling yet tireless feet. We tracked him through the crushed, burnt out ruins of what were once homes. We could see the signs the lives these unfortunate people had left as we passed. There were dolls moldering in the dust and tools slowly fading to rust. The air became worse, and it was hard to breathe. We must have been traveling for twenty minutes when we heard the sounds of fighting ahead of us. Tarry had found an opponent after all.
If anything, Gloria broke into an even faster run, and left me behind. Tarry was holding a torch in one hand, one he had made himself, I guessed. It certainly wasn’t a magical one like mine. He was using it to fight wildly, swinging it like a sword with his left hand, and punching with his right. I couldn’t make out the figures clearly in the low and wildly flailing light, but I knew he was facing several opponents. They must have been skeletons, I reasoned, by the high, echoing impacts his attacks made against them. He was shouting, but they were deathly silent, moving relentlessly forward with dry, clicking steps. His blows had a ringing quality, and his right hand flashed in the fire from the torch. He was wearing some kind of gauntlet, and using it to surprisingly good effect against the skeletons. He punched a small one, that might have once been a child, or possibly an an adult Halfling or Gnome, in the hip, and it shattered. The sinister red glow of its eyes faded as it fell. But there were many, many more of them. I could see the pinpoints of light as I got closer.
Tarry had them at some kind of a choke point. Perhaps it had once been a city wall, or an alley between two buildings. In any case, they could only come at him two or three at a time, and he was holding his own, but I could see him tiring. Whatever madness had overtaken him must have been fading, and with it, that chaotic strength that Gloria had told me of. He couldn’t fight an army. He was a child, after all.
Gloria reached him first, and tried to pull him back, shouting. He pretended he didn’t hear her, or perhaps he couldn’t hear her. He brought his fist and torch down in a two handed attack on the ribcage of one of the skeletons. It went down, but another took its place. There was no end to them. I finally caught up, panting. Tarry was coming back to himself. He looked at me and his eyes were clear. There was triumph in them.
“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Gloria shouted, and Tarry looked out over the skeletons, with what might have been regret, but he didn’t say anything. He patted his pocket with his mail-gloved fist and nodded. Suddenly, there was a huge skeleton in front of us. It blind sided Tarry, and he fell over, clutching his chest and wincing. I moved to catch him, but gloria was already in front of him, chanting. Her left hand started to glow, faintly, with a violet, chilling light. She reached out and grabbed the skeleton on the tibia. The glow spread from her hand into the monster,and the glow in its eyes faded. It toppled, once again lifeless. The two of them ran back towards me. There was a look of horror on Gloria’s face as she looked towards me. I didn’t know until too late that it was a warning.
A force, thin but solid, came down on my shoulders from behind. I dropped the knife, and the blade clattered to the dusty stones. I dropped to my knees, and I twisted to see the skeletal face, emotionless, of course, standing above me. I tried to push back, to kick it with my feet, anything, but it was like a nightmare. There was no way I could escape. I backed up like a crab, moving out of fear, staring into cold red starlight eyes. Eyes that maybe didn’t really see me. I ran into something, and I screamed. Fortunately, it was Gloria and Tarry. The bad news is that we were being over run. More skeletons were coming, and they had found a way to block the path in front of us. Tarry struggled in his sisters arms, arguing with her to let him protect us. She refused.
“Can you do that spell, whatever it was, again?” I asked, staggering to my feet. I felt sore, but I wasn’t too badly hurt. In the dim light, I saw her shake her head.
“Grandmother taught me how to disrupt the undead, to drive them off, but I’m drained. I can’t cast anything else today. I saw how suddenly tired she was, and I knew it was true. We were doomed. I felt the chill of my impending death come over me. Not a sweat, or a panic, but cold certainty that I had reached as far as I could go. I was suddenly very angry. The undead came closer, two of them were in front of us, perhaps coming the way we had came. They blocked our path. I didn’t want to die. A skeleton behind us swiped at Gloria, missing her by inches. I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what.
I have never, I will admit, been religious. I respect the traditions of the Five People, and the Six Heroes, of course, but I’ve never respected and venerated the Great Lord the way I should. I’ve only ever paid him lip service. But I whispered something like a prayer, not really conscious of the words, just asking for deliverance, and then, I was. It flashed so clearly in my mind, I can’t now fully recall it, but I thought about what I wanted to happen, made a wish, and watched it come true. It was so much like that one time, when my father was being taken away, but so much greater; more wild, more complex, I didn’t know what I was doing, or how I was doing it. Everything I’ve ever learned says that this is impossible, but I did magic. And it was stronger than anything I’d ever done before, either willfully or on accident. My fists were shaking with rage, a burning, fiery rage, and I wanted to see the world, and all the ruins, and all the monsters in it burning, and then, somehow, my hands were small flames. I thrust them outward, and the fire was a wave, no, a pair of waves, spiraling around each other, two sudden white contrails in the dark. They connected with the skeletons squarely in their chests, and they froze, their tattered rags burning, before collapsing back into lifeless, disjointed bones. The path ahead was clear, and I was filled with sudden energy. I reached for Gloria with my left hand, picked up the knife with my right, and ran as fast as I could, barely glancing behind me at the shocked expressions on my companion’s faces. I did magic, powerful, violent magic, without even knowing how. And in the brief moments in the dark, running through the tunnel, I didn’t even question it. I simply reveled in how indescribably wonderful it had felt, like I had stretched a limb I didn’t know I had.
We slowed down once we reached the crack, and squeezed through one at a time. Gloria insisted on going last, either out of nobility, or out of fear of taking her eyes off of me, I can’t be sure. We walked back to the inn in the last embers of the sunset. I felt as though the day had slipped through my fingers, like sand. We passed the closed stalls and shuttered shops. It was fully dark when we reached the inn, after a journey that felt like a thousand miles. Mr. Boflin was waiting for us on the porch with a lantern. She berated her children for being late, and told us we had missed supper. Gloria said nothing, and held Tarry’s wrist tightly. His other hand, with the incriminating gauntlet, was thrust deep into his pocket.
“Well, I hope you ate, for I’m not staying. We will be late for the fireworks,” Mrs. Boflin said. It was apparently, the end of the discussion. She herded us out to the green, where our fathers were waiting. I was quiet, and Dad asked me if I was ill. I shook my head and didn’t look at him. The two men made a small joke, but I wasn’t listening. The fireworks began, filling the sky with light and magic and noise. I couldn’t bare to watch them. I just kept thinking about those thirty seconds in the dark, when I pulled fire from thin air, like a magician. But I’m not a magician. I’m just a girl. I can’t do that. I shouldn’t have been able to do it. What if I do something that powerful again? Without trying, without warning? I could burn down a building, I could kill a person!
The oil is running low in the lamp. It must be close to dawn by now, and I don’t know how I feel. Something between elation and terror, I suppose, but it’s faded, with the night. I have to go to Carabos, I need to know what is happening to me. I need to talk to someone, but I don’t know what to say. I should try and get some sleep. We’re leaving town early in the morning.

A Light Supper 06/06/16 23:00

Wow is it late!  Apparently, the Halfling concept of a “light supper” lasts two hours and is five courses.  I like it here!  Best of all, Dad didn’t say one word about me watching what I eat!  I tried to be polite, of course, but the dinner table was a battlefield.  This is definitely the kind of cultural experience I can enjoy.  Momma is always yelling at me to eat more like a lady, which I think to her mind means not at all.  I’ve always been able to eat a lot without gaining weight, but she constantly chides me.  For once I’m really full.
Anyway, we brought the cart into the stable, and Dad was really, really careful with our stuff, like he didn’t trust the stable hand at all.  After that, we went in, through the human-sized door, and found Mr. Boflin behind the counter.  After a brief reunion, Mr. Boflin called for a pair of porters to take our bags, and he took us up to our rooms.  The Mountain Ash Inn is the only human sized building, well multi-sized building, in the town.  It actually survived whatever disaster happened here a century ago, but nobody is alive who witnessed it.  The King at that time had bigger problems.  The first signs of the upcoming war were upon him, and it was draining his coffers to fight those battles.  So he just had a team of priests bless the ruins, declared it a war grave, and let the Halflings take care of the mess.  This building was rebuilt rather than torn down.  And it is pretty amazing.  I feel kind of odd when I’m in here.  Somehow, I can tell that there are some spells built into the walls.  I think that is how it managed to stay intact.  It was a luxury in in the old city.  There are even magic wells in the kitchen and baths for running water.  Mr. Boflin said that the place was haunted, that there were strange lights and ghosts who walk the halls.  He’s considered having the clerics on top of the hill do an exorcism, but for the most part they are benign, and he says it “adds charm” to have a ghost at an inn like this.
The average-sized section of the inn was really quiet.  Mr. Boflin said that there was only one other guest, a merchant from Managan Town who delivered the fireworks for tomorrow’s celebration.  When I asked about it, he just laughed and said that I would see soon.  Dad was watching the porters carefully.  I don’t think he was really listening.  Since the human section was so empty, we were able to get really good rooms.  Dad is next door, and the Merchant, Mr. Cobble, is on the far side of him.  Down the hall is the toilet and next to me is the bath.  Mr. Boflin left us to get settled and said that supper would be served soon.  He said we should join him with the family in the kitchen, and Dad immediately accented.  After Mr. Boflin left, I took a quick bath to get the road dust off of me.  The bath is segregated into men’s and women’s sections, and is small, but really nice.  The water comes from hot and cold fountains, and there is a big mercury mirror on one wall.  I think it must be a lot of trouble for only three guests.  After that, I got changed, and then wrote my last note.
Gloria came and got me for dinner.  She is the Bolfins’ daughter.  She’s a few years older than me, but I guess because Halflings live longer, and age slower, so she’s about the same as me mentally.  She watched me shut and lock the journal with a weird look on her face.  On the way down to supper she asked me if the book was magic.
“It is, but it’s just a simple spell, I think.  Not like the ones in the bath.  I can lock it so no one else can see what I write.  My grandmother gave it too me.  She said my grandfather bought it when I was born, and she’d been waiting to give it too me.”  I said.  We headed through the central lobby and into the restaurant.
“Is your grandmother well?”  She asked as she passed through the middle door.  She looked so tiny passing through the swinging door, which had no handle, that it was hard to think of her as twenty.
I told her that she was, but the restaurant was filled with guests, either enjoying the last of their meals, or getting started on the first round of drinks for the evening.  I don’t know if she heard me over the din.  I followed her through the crowd, feeling awkwardly gigantic; something I’ve never felt before.  At four and a half feet, I’m more than on the short side.  Things were quieter in the kitchen, but not by much.  The one team of cooks was finishing up with deserts and such, and the others were starting on a massive pile of dishes.  There was a long, low table at one side of the room.  It was surrounded by Halflng-sized chairs.  At one end, The other Boflins were in deep conversation with my father, and Tarry, Gloria’s younger brother, was starring at covered dishes in anticipation.  At the other end, employees that weren’t busy were engaged in their own dinner conversations.  Gloria took a seat next to her brother, chiding him to be on his manners, and I sat cross legged on a cushon net to my father, since the table was far to low for me to sit at a chair.  The arrangement worked better than I had expected, and soon dinner was well underway.
We were almost finished when I suddenly realized something.  I asked Gloria how she could tell that my journal was a magic item, and I got a big surprise.
“I studied a bit under Nanna when she was last at home, so I can sometimes notice spells like that.”  She said simply.  Mr. Boflin’s mother is a semi-retired wizard.  She actually spent some time traveling with Grandad when they were young, which is how are families are acquainted.  A few years ago, she left the Inn and went back to the Academy to teach.  Dad and Mr. Boflin turned back to us.
“Gloria’s being modest.  She’ll be starting at apprentice level when the two of you get to Carbein,” Mr. Boflin said.  I felt a surge of excitement.  I was honestly a little worried I would be feeling homesick and alone, in a far away city.  I’m glad I won’t be doing this on my own.  Gloria said she would look out for me at school, but she could already tell that I had lots of potential.  I felt a little panic at that, but I can’t say why.  It was just a bad feeling.  Does she know that I’ve done magic without any control?
Tomorrow is a festival day, and we leave again for the Academy the day after.