"we request sanctuary"
Father Rellin deftly rolled the ancient parchment and slid it into the awaiting scroll case. He pressed his fingers against his temple and gave a deep sigh.
It is such an intricate puzzle, thought Father Rellin,
legends are welded on prophecy which then spins into elaborate poetry, which must date back at least a thousand years, if not more.
He raised his eyes from the worn study table as a sudden, urgent knocking pattered from the main doors. All the brothers were with Father Quellrinn, helping to ease the old man's pain. Rellin stood up, his back rattled in protest from having been sat down for at least a days length, probably more. Rellin drew his grey robes about him and stepped towards the main atrium. He gave the astral charts a final defeated glance before emerging into the afternoon light that rained down from the windows in the spire.
Rellin smiled inwardly at the wonders of the archictecture as he unlooped the heavy doors and opened them. The sound of the town flooded in and Rellin caught the faint calls of panic. Before him stood three beggars.
"Father," began a man with his cheeks brutally laced together with black string, "we request sanctuary."
- - - - - - - - - -
Robar howled in anger. His eyes burnt red with the wrath of Kossuth. Around him lay the rubble of the keep, above him the iron grey sky. The Scarboy, that idiot halfman and the bastard mage were gone. Gruulth had commanded a swift mobilisation of the guard to be ready to leave the next morning. Robar knew that the delay at Ilinvur was a foolish move, but his greed to see the face of those fools as they walked into his trap was too great a bounty to sidestep.
A red-faced guard hammered past and Robar barked an order. The guard looked torn, but flashed the black house symbol of Gruulth and Robar could do nothing but let him go. His plans had fallen secondary to that damn necromancer. This would not stand for much longer. He would travel westwards as expected, but make his move before the castle.
Robar grunted and stalked away, but his foot caught on the floor and turning back, saw his boot in the grasp of a skeletal arm. It's fingers clawed with life and Robar yelped as the pressure on his ankle shot with pain. He smashed his other heel down and tore the hand in half. Robar moved away cautiously, careful to scan the rubble for any more vengeful dead.
- - - - - - - - - -
Rellin was a little taken aback by the request for sanctuary. The usual was money, blessings and sometimes books, though this happened less often than he should like. The man's face was in terrible shape, his jaw was a mess of stubble and dried blood.
"My son," nodded Rellin, his short beard bobbing as he spoke, "you are quite welcome, but we can offer little in the way of protection."
"Then let us inside Father," pressed Torious, wincing as he spoke, "we are in dire need. My name is Torious Mangrane, descendent of Tyr. I claim sanctuary in this, an allied house of the gods."
Rellin raised his eyebrows and seemed to think on this momentarily. Behind the three, a patrol of guards rushed past toward the keep. Rellin watched Torious hide his face as they passed.
"Then I will not refuse you brother, nor your companions," said Rellin with something of a forced smile, "My name is Father Rellin of the order of Oghma and I welcome you to my church, though this is a house of knowledge my friends, so please keep your voices low."
Torious thanked Rellin and shook his hand vigorously. Milo watched eagerly. As Rellin turned back inside, Milo tugged at Torious's tattered shirt,
"Torious!" hissed the halfling in a confidential tone, though sadly not below the hearing of Father Rellin, "was that a special handshake? can you teach me? I'll teach you mine."
Torious brushed the halfling away with an enraged look then followed Rellin inside. Thalin pushed Milo in next then followed. The companions disappeared into the temple of Oghma and the frostwood doors heaved close behind them.
- - - - - - - - - -
Robar struggled for words. His face had flared red with frustration long ago.
"What the bloody hell do you mean? Where on Toril are they?"
"Sir, they simply didn't come back from patrol," explained Pulgrath, the head guardsman, "they were due back from the market over an hour ago."
Robar whirled out of the room in a rage. Things were not going to plan.
- - - - - - - - - -
"And that is the truth. We have nothing to hide, except ourselves," ended Torious.
Throughout the retelling of their travels thus far, Rellin had remained silent, nodding and occasionally looking as if he were about to interrupt, but kept his silence none the less. At times Torious had to swallow his own blood, but refused any treatments till he had told his story to the kindly Father. Thalin's arm was quickly bandaged, but healing magic didn't stir any response from the skinned arm.
Milo had been straining to enhance the story at every turn, but Thalin had made it quite clear that it wasn't the time for Milo's breed of storytelling.
Torious waited for Rellin to respond. The air hung heavy and the footsteps of a monk working in the scroll library seemed to echo endlessly in the beautiful structure. The footsteps stopped for a time then continued. Rellin answered with a very serious voice,
"you must not let anyone know who you are or why you are here. I shall tell the brothers as much as they need know. This is an exceptionally delicate situation. For all of you," motioned Rellin, "if Robar knew you were here he wouldn't think again about burning all of this to the ground just to find you."
"He wouldn't find us. We'd be gone," shrugged Milo.
"I don't doubt that you would be gone, but these millions of words around us would be lost. I am their guardian and steps will be taken to keep you hidden. Stay quiet, use the library, do not speak of anything but books. You'll fit in easily."
Milo looked horrified. Torious and Thalin nodded their understanding.
- - - - - - - - - -
Mikka gave a dramatic snarl and turned on the guard. The four man patrol had been an easy capture and Mikka was working his questions well.
The guard cowered, then shivered as an owl shrieked loudly from the rafters. A demonic weasel in a waistcoat strutted mercilessly about, nipping at the guards restrained hands with wanton abandon.
Mikka flourished a map of the area and drove a stubby finger at Tilverton.
"Tell me what you know!" yelled the Tiefling, his skin bristling with a fiendish glow.
The guard coughed a reply through the rag in his mouth.
Why the jimmies would he know? Silly line of interrogation anyway, thought Mikka. The tielfling shook his head in well practiced malice and contemplated his next question.
- - - - - - - - - -
Inside the temple of Oghma, the afternoon led to evening and soon dusk had crept upon them. Isplit and Dariel had not returned to their masters, but both Milo and Thalin knew they were safe. Brothers swiftly moved about the reading tables with candles. Milo had absentmindedly swung his hand through the flame a few times but was intrigued to find that there was no heat. He knew Isplit would have loved that and Milo felt a pang of fear that his little friend would be okay, but Thalin had reassured him earlier that they were safe, though they didn't know where.
Other than the fantastic candle, there were the books. Milo stared down at his
Famous Monsters of the Moonsea and sighed. You could only look at so many etchings of leviathan, kuo-toa and giant turtles before your mind wandered.
The library had probably originated in a single room, but had spread throughout the temple. It reminded Milo of the creeping sea moss that he had to cut away every summer. Across the reading room sat Thalin deep in the study of a spellbook, and at the next table Torious sat in quiet meditation.
Milo had eavesdropped as often as he could on the hushed conversations of the brothers and had picked up a wealth of juicy librarian gossip. A Father Quellrinn was sick, something about a long lasting curse finally catching up; one of the brothers was an ex-guard of Robar (which put Milo on edge and he had quickly informed Torious and Thalin); another brother was blind due to demonic research but could still read somehow and finally, and what Milo considered of paramount importance, was that Father Rellin had once been an executioner. The sword above his desk, named
Pilgrim, had claimed over two hundred heads before Rellin had turned from bloodshed to books. Milo desperately wanted to know why.
That night Torious's scars were unlaced. Once again, the Aasimar made no sound save for a final grunt as the last wet lace slid from his face. He thanked Father Rellin, then the exhaustion caught up and Torious quickly found a spare bed and was asleep in moments.
Milo had gone to bed a little earlier, content that his dreams would be more exciting than another hour in the library. But he didn't dream anything at all.
Thalin watched a brother change his candle for a new one. That was the third change. He wondered what hour it was. Other brothers moved around, recording which books were where or reading into the millions of words that Rellin had spoken of.
Thalin returned to his book and stared in wonder at the detailed sketchings before him.
Erifeci was something far more than he had thought. Far more. Rellin had spoken to him in private about wielding the staff, the Father's face ashen and secretive as he spoke. Rellin spoke of prophecies and comets. Gods and prisons. Rellin was researching as fast as he could, but everything he read pointed to the green star in the sky and the legend that it would fall soon. And he knew where it would land. In the hands of the wrong bearer, the staff must not be allowed to reach Tilverton.
Finally Rellin spoke of Gruulth and the danger posed with
Erifeci. Gruulth knew everything that Rellin knew and more. The necromancer's powers already dwarfed many of the mages in the North.
Thalin thought of his father and wondered how he would fare against this deeply corrupted mage. He confessed to himself that he didn't know. At that moment he wished he had never left the Glacier. Had never travelled South into danger. He was a fool.
Thalin flexed his arm and grimaced as the numbness shuddered into a dark ache.
But he had chosen his path and now he had to walk it. Turning back would betray whatever he had achieved up till now.
Erifeci must be found and torn from the grasp of Gruulth.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
