As mentioned in the first part of this thread, look here for continuing updates to this oh-so-soap-opera-like saga. Check out the Byzantium on the Shannon I thread for what has gone before, and of course all of the write-ups are present at the Palaestra web site,
http://webpages.charter.net/wpeacock/palaestra/index.htm
and awaaay we go . . .
Episode Twenty-Eight
Standing in the blood-soaked grass, Ingolf gave voice to his thoughts about the situation.
“We have to move, and soon. Moireach will have no trouble discovering what has happened here and where we went. We need all the head start we can muster.”
“I think I can throw her off a bit” Gudlaug replied. “Give me a few moments to prepare. Sleep until dawn, at least, when my power is replenished.”
Gudlaug stood the last watch while the rest of the battle-weary group slept. At the first hint of the sun, the dwarven druid gathered the company around him and explained his plan.
“As Ingolf points out, a Druid in the wild has many resources – one as powerful as Moireach doubly so. It will not be easy to evade her and make our escape – especially given that several of us would quite nicely provide the final ingredient she needs to complete this ritual of transformation.” At that, Aoelif touched her own throat with a thoughtful look. Gudlaug saw her and said “None of us have any desire to lose our heads, least of all to further some mad King’s plan. Here is what I propose . . .”
And hour later, the company was on the move again – and quickly. The wily druid had nearly expended his full complement of magics, but in so doing had rendered the entire group and their mounts invisible to any animal spies that Moireach might have in the area. He had also conjured up a clear path for them through the woods and put a friendly wind at their back – the party was moving easily twice the speed of horse across faerie and towards the human lands. From that point the meant to strike out northerly across Thessela province and come to the Credi kingdom, where Brion’s liege Owain could hopefully be found. After an hour or so of this travel, Gudlaug pulled up short and motioned the group to stop. He seemed to be listening to something.
“I left a spy of sorts myself. A listening ringworm placed on a likely rodent. Moireach is approaching the site of the boar’s demise now.”
“A listening . . . ringworm?” Martaine was surprised by his dwarven counterpart yet again. “You can eavesdrop via an infection?”
Gudlaug ignored him. “Moireach is interrogating the local fauna. She knows the details of the combat. Hmmm. She seems to think that her pet troll has thrown in his lot with us.”
“You shapechanged form has confounded her, no doubt.” Nicasia said.
“Emrys is mad.” Gudlaug said suddenly, still listening to the voice of Moireach many miles away, unheard by any but him. “He means to transform himself into this half-dragon to extend his life and then seek revenge.”
“Revenge?” Theodorus said. “On who?”
“All those he seems to think have wronged him. He is gathering his army now to march on Tavia when the transformation is completed. From the sounds of it, if that campaign is successful. I gather the Credi will be his next target.”
“That would follow” Ingolf said. “His defeat many years ago was at least partially because of them.”
Theodorus spoke reluctantly “I have to admit that the armies of the province have been . . . softened somewhat by the recent peaceful times. I am not at all certain that an army of Cimbri warriors would meet all that much opposition. Particularly if they strike with surprise.”
“With a dragon leading them” Nicasia added.
Ingolf savored privately for a moment the thought of a faerie army once more on human soil, then discarded the idea as being ultimately disastrous for him, no matter how patriotic. “Perhaps we should alter our course. Strike out for Tavia at once, warn the governor. I’ve no particular desire to see my adopted home city ruled by a man who would kill his loyal retainers to further his own mad schemes.”
“Or his son.” Gulaug said. The others looked at him with surprise. “My spell is nearly faded, but Moireach mentioned to someone else there that, should her hunt for us prove fruitless, there was always Brice.”
“Who was this other person?” Brion asked.
“She called her Daracha. Do you know of this one?”
“Aye. She is Moireach’s . . . bodyguard, I suppose. She has a dark reputation. They say she has killed many men in Moireach’s defense. They are rumored to be entwined in . . . other ways, as well.”
Ingolf, never slow on the uptake, said “She is Moireach’s assassin lover?”
“Well, whoever she is, Moireach has dispatched her to hunt for us.” Gulaug replied. Brion seemed to not like the sound of that in the slightest.
After a short discussion, the choice was made to keep to the current course. Gudlaug very much wished the council and aid of others of his order and at least one druid was likely to be at Arcois’ court in Credi. Theodorus seemed to think that, could they not somehow head off Emrys’ plans themselves, there was little they could do in Tavia either, though all agreed that a message should be dispatched at the earliest opportunity, warning the governor via Theodorus’ visiting father what was happening.
Synopsis:
From this point, the group moved quickly towards the Credi lands. Near the Iconian border they ran into there old “friend” Sir Eudamon, and with him was Brion’s liege lord Owain. Eudamon had been riding in the province seeking second sons of noble houses to join his Legion. Theodorus persuaded Eudamon to carry a letter for him in all haste to his Uncle Jon Dukas, currently visiting the Collegium in Tavia. Although the hot-headed Eudamon was not told the details of the letter (which revealed the imminent invasion) he was convinced that it was important enough to make his top priority. Owain and Brion elected to return to their home village and hope for the best. His errand to reach Arcois had been successful but of the powerful druid Krossbyr there was no news.
The group rode on to the manor of a Knight named __________ whom Eudamon had recently visited. He extended his hospitality and they are all grateful for it; Ingolf for the beer particularly. Aoelif spent some time in swordplay with the Knight’s son. Gudlaug slept outside.
Episode 29 Synopsis:
The group rode quickly on to Arcois’ court. There they were warmly greeted by the Credi warlord and feasted in his hall. He was aware already of their errand, yet still had no news of Krossbyr. Clearly the senior druid was either disinclined to involve himself in events or otherwise out of the picture. Conference with Arcois led the group to conclude the best course of action was to find Moireach and put a stop to the dragon transformation before it could be completed. Aoelif decided to alert Bodolf the Brave, leader of her Fianna warband, and enlist his aid. Messages were dispatched asking him to meet the group at a small village near the Helveti border. Arcois agreed to allow five of his own warriors to accompany them. Ingolf asked for men that could ride, shoot and move stealthily and the Credi King chose who should go from those that wished it. They were all warned that, while great glory was to be won, perhaps also death awaited. None shirked from this warning and the next morning the small band set out. They found Bodolf at the inn where they requested he meet them, and he seemed quite eager to take up the fight. Thus reinforced, the group headed back into Helveti, towards the druid grove where Moireach and Emrys’ foul plan would reach its climax once the black druidess had collected enough heads.
Episode 30 Synopsis:
Perhaps 20 miles from the grove the group had spotted smoke rising in the distance, another village perhaps, under assault by whatever new horror Moireach had created. Gudlaug flew ahead in the form of a sharp-eyed eagle to see what he might learn. He returned in a half hour or so with dire news.
“She’s summoned up – or built – something new.” The dwarven druid reported.
“Built? What do you mean?” Theodorus said. Ingolf’s thoughts flashed back momentarily to the great iron construct that bore the legless master of the Wizard’s Collegium about Tavia.
“A sort of - wicker man.” Gudlaugh said. “A truly huge one. It is stomping about the village crushing any houses not already demolished.”
Bodolf spoke next. “How many heads does she lack for this black ritual? Do we know?”
“Not just any head will do” Aoelif said. “Only the heads of the powerful – of heroes. That is what she needs.”
“Well,” the Fianna leader replied, “I feel certain I qualify, at least, though I have no intention of giving up my head without a struggle. Thought we are but a dozen men and women I count that a fortuitous number. Let’s go see this wicker man and discover what happens!”
With that, the Fianna leader rode quickly up the road, not bothering to look to see if he was being followed. In short order the company was drawing close to the village. As the rode out of the edge of the wood and into the vegetable gardens and animal pens at the edge of the town, they could all see what Gudlaug had reported.
Looming over the last undamaged structure in town was a huge figure, seemingly made of vines and tree branches, living and dead alike, woven together. It had the form of a giant man and was, if anything, even larger than the boar. The Credi warriors, unused as they were to such sights, drew up short, but Bodolf urged them onwards by actions rather than deed – he charged directly at the thing on horseback.
The rest of the company surged forward as well, weapons in hand. Ingolf considered his shortbow but quickly discarded that notion. He drew his light, thrusting sword and realized that he was singularly ill-prepared to tackle a living golem of vines and saplings. A female voice that they guessed to be Moireach’s seemed to be coming from the wicker man’s head, and it was cackling with glee. Suddenly from the rear of the advance came an abrupt cry of pain – Gudlaug had an arrow planted deeply in his shoulder. Theodorus and Ingolf cast about in a near panic when the bard spotted movement in the tree above, and caught a glimpse of a leather-clad form.
Bodolf was the first to react. He dropped from his saddle, pulling a javelin as he did so. He turned to face the assassin above them and set his feet in a certain way. With a shout he let fly his spear, and it struck the assassin in the chest, twisting violently as it did so. Aoelif regarded this with interest – it was a trick of the fianna that she had heard tales of but did not herself know how to accomplish. The woman yelled out in pain and doubled over. Gudlaug heard her cry “Moireach!” as she did so, and suddenly the battlefield was aflame. Fire erupted all around the charging warriors, and several of Arcois’ men fell charred and dead to the ground. Martaine and Aoelif were burned as well, though Nicasia managed to avoid the fires, twisting aside at the last possible moment.
With characteristically dwarven indifference to suffering, Gudlaug pulled the arrow from his shoulder and noted, with some annoyance, that the tip was smeared with a dark black tar. Already the wound hurt far more than it should, but the dwarf had no time to worry about poisons. He intoned a quick spell to stop the bleeding and left the invisible attacker to be dealt with by Theodorus and Ingolf. The bard noted that the woman seemed badly wounded by Bodolf’s spear, and as he watched she produced and drank some magical elixir – and promptly vanished from sight. Theodorus quickly produced and read a scroll he had prepare earlier and began hunting for the would-be killer, who they assumed to be Daracha, Moireach’s personal bodyguard.
Martaine moved as quickly as he could from one wounded to the next, doing what he was able. The group was split at this point, with those in the back trying to deal with Daracha while Aoelif and Bodolf alone opposed the wicker golem. Gudlaug was moving towards the thing as quickly as he could, but it was clear that Bodolf would reach it first.
As he ran towards the golem, Bodolf could see that woven in among the vines and saplings in the thing’s head was the skull of some animal, a horse perhaps. A pale green fire flickered in its eye sockets and he could hear the voice of Moireach coming from the skull, intoning another spell. He knew that another storm of fire was more than the group could weather. He closed with the wicker construct and then, with a yell that all who knew the feats of the fianna had heard before, he leapt towards the wicker head, sword in hand.
His first blow smashed the skull into flinders even as he landed on the thing’s shoulders. This victory was very short lived, however – in a moment the wicker man had Bodolf by the ankle like a rag doll. To the amazement of all it did not fling him aside or dash his head against the earth. Rather, it reached down with its free hand and forced an opening through the vines in its own chest. Into this Bodolf the Brave was unceremoniously stuffed, like a fistful of bread pudding into a goose. Aoelif leapt screaming at the thing with swords in hand, heedless of her own wounds in her desire to rescue her captain. Martaine moved close behind to support the howling fianna.
Across the battlefield, Ingolf and Nicasia searched in vain for the invisible assassin somewhere in the canopy of tree branches above them. Theodorus intoned a sequence of spells and took to the air. Another spell rendered his target visible – but to himself only. As he watched she drank another potion and flew off, clearly meaning to flee the scene of the combat. Theodorus called up a magical bolt of acid and flung it at the fleeing assassin but missed. She sped off and the mage flew after her in hot pursuit.
Aoelif drew her enchanted blade Sig and closed with the golem, suffering more abuse from the huge woody fists as she did so. She was about to tear into the strange creature with the flaming blade when she heard a muffled cry from within yelling “No flames! No flames!” With a curse she extinguished what was no doubt the most efficacious weapon any in the group possessed and engaged it without the benefit of fire. Martaine had moved in close behind and was able to heal the most grievous of Aoelif’s burns. Gudlaug strode forth with his weapon in hand alongside the fianna and together they engaged the thing as best they were able.
Suddenly from the general vicinity of the construct’s chest came a terrific crashing sound, like someone forcing his way through a dense thicket. Leaves and branches fairly exploded from the wicker golem’s chest, and a dazed, bloodied and scratched, but very much alive, Boldolf, tumbled out to the ground. In his hand was a dagger sticky with sap. Aoelif redoubled her efforts and moments later the strange wicker thing was a shambles. The damage dealt to it from within and without was more than the magic animating it could compensate for. From the wreck of the thing emerged two surprised and wounded Cimbri warriors – the thing’s prior targets.
Somewhere above them Theodorus was still chasing Daracha, who he alone could see. He hurled another acidic missile at her but missed again, then with a curse he threw a mesh of sticky magical webbing across her path. Daracha flew directly into the webbing strung between the tree branches and was ensnared; Theodorus then began intoning a different spell and a series of magic missiles sped unerringly into the already wounded assassin, finishing her.
The group gathered their wits about them. Gudlaug went to each of the Cimbri fallen and said a few words in the ancient language of the druids; Martaine assumed it was the druidic equivalent of last rites. The two Cimbri that had been rescued from the inside of the wicker golem quickly told the tale of what had happened. The golem had come before dawn, smashing the houses and farmsteads of the half-elves and driving the women and children of the village before itself like cattle. The men had tried to fight back – all were slain, save the two taken by the thing.
“This was no doubt meant to draw us in.” Ingolf said. “Moireach’s last chance to capture one of us for her ritual.”
“I note also that her assassin struck at Gudlaug first” Martaine added.
“Aye. No doubt she considers another druid the one most likely to thwart her plans. What will she do next, I wonder?”
Aoelif answered that one. “She will do what she said she would when Gudlaug was eavedropping. She’ll kill Emrys’ son and finish her ritual that way.”
Bodolf looked up from where he sat as Martaine tended his wounds. “What! Is Emrys mad enough to sacrifice his own son for this plot?”
“Moireach is, at least, if not Emrys” Aoelif said. “we should head out at once for the druid grove.”
One of the rescued Cimbri spoke up. “We know the way, if you do not. And we’d like to join with you.”
“Aye,” Gudlaug said “some at least of Moireach’s potential victims should be there to see her fall.” A slow smoldering fire was burning in the dwarf’s eyes. He headed towards his pony without looking to see if the others were following; all of them were close behind.
The company rode hard and made camp late that night. As they sat rubbing out the cramps from ahrd ride, Gudlaug told them all what to expect.
“I know nothing of this ritual that Moireach believes will transform Emrys into a dragon, or half-dragon. But I can guess a few things about it and about the grove. The place will be deeply connected to the unseelie side of faerie. There will be guardians also.”
“Such as that boar?” Nicasia asked. “I’d as soon not meet that again.”
“Not quite.” Gudlaug went on. “The boar was – unique. A servant of the grove but not of Moireach – I believe she deceived the guardians of the grove into letting her use the boar in this scheme. The guardians themselves may not be part of her plots.”
“Let us hope not” Bodolf interrupted. “I want nothing to come between my blade and this mad king and his druid.”
Aoelif hesitantly replied to her captain “We do not know for sure that Emrys is part of all this. He might be a pawn himself. Moireach is rumored to have much sway over him.”
“Be that as it may” Gudlaug ent on “we will have to find out once we reach them. My warning is simply this – make no aggressive move towards the guardians of the grove, whatever they may be. We should defend ourselves, but it may be that we need not come to blow with the worst of our possible opponents. Offer them no offense and be doubly certain to harm no growing thing within the boundaries of the grove.”
The next day was dark, low clouds pressed down on the treetops and the group’s spirits. Nonetheless they pressed on and reached the area of the grove before noon. Ingolf was preparing to scout cautiously ahead when suddenly they all heard an oddly familiar voice calling out to him in Cimbri.
“Stop! Go no further!”
It was Brion, the cimbri warrior who they last saw in the company of his master Owain.
“Brion?” Ingolf said. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question. What business have you here?”
“You know well what our business is” Gudlaug said. “We mean to stop this ritual.”
“I know – I know nothing of any ritual, save the one we were commended to attend. King Emrys will pass down the crown to his son Brice today. All of Emrys bannermen were commanded to be present.”
“All his surviving bannermen, you mean” said Theodorus.
Brion blanched at that. “Aye. All of them are here, with their retainers, as our king commanded us.” The young warrior was clearly upset. He gripped his spear in both hands, twisting the haft between them. “I – I do not know what is going to happen.”
“Brion, you were with us when we fought that troll thing, and you know what it said.” Martaine said. “You know that things are not as they seem here.”
“I heard the troll, aye. Am I to believe it over the word of my own King? I do not know what is gong to happen.”
“Brion” Ingolf said “find your liege. Tell Owain that we are here, that we mean to discover exactly what Moireach is up to, and that if it involves the murder of Brice as we believe it does, we mean to stop it.”
“The Prince! He’s here, of course. You think she means to . . .”
“Kill him, aye, to provide the final bit of power she needs for this ritual. We will stop her if we can.”
“Tell him the Fianna are come” Bodolf suddenly spoke. “Tell him that Bodolf the Brave means to see the crown passed on to the heir of Helveti, as it should be. If that is what is really about to happen, then no one need have any worries.”
Brion looked uncertain. “I was ordered to prevent any from entering the grove” he said.
“Clearly there are too many of us for you to stop” Ingolf replied.
“I should summon aid” Brion said with a wry smile. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so for me to get help.” With that he turned and moved off into the wood. The group pressed on, towards the grove. They could see the high hedge surrounding it, and one narrow opening on the near side.
“remember” Gudlaug warned them again “harm no growing thing within that hedge, and defend yourself only – do not draw a blade against anything that shows you no hostility.” They all moved forward resolutely, though a few of the cimbri warriors with them clearly had misgivings about the entire affair. Inside the grove, they could see a splash of light in the gloom – something, clearly, was happening.
The grove was ancient, Gudlaug and even Ingolf could feel how ancient it was as they approached. The hedge wall surrounding it was too high to see over and to dense to penetrate, so the group was forced to the one opening in the circle. In the middle of the grove a huge oak stood – black and flat as midnight. Black roots twisted into a great black bole that spread a canopy of black leaves above them. Ingolf thought immediately of the plane of shadow, where Zacarra had been spirited away form them, and of what they had seen there.
Around the tree stood four elves, almost invisible at first, as they were the same flat black as the tree itself. Slender bows were in there hands and the nearest one regarded the group with his dead black eyes. They neither spoke, nor moved, nor met the gaze of any that looked at them. They merely stood guard.
On the far side of the grove they saw her at last – Moireach the druid stood over a stone slab, swaying slowly, almost like a serpent, to some music she alone could hear. She was saying something that none of them understood. To her right stood Emrys, the King they had seen but once before, at the wedding of his son Brice. He was armored fully and bore before him the huge sword of state, but he looked frail. Old, tired, withered – but in his eyes a strange light was playing. If Inolf had any doubt about the man’s culpability in the whole mad scheme, it vanished at that moment.
Emrys was looking down at the slab of stone in front of him. On it lay the bound and unconscious form of his own son Brice. Ingolf guessed that the prince had been drugged or ensorcelled – his sleep did not have the wholesome quality of natural slumber.
Moireach suddenly looked at the group and hissed in a sibilant, almost reptilian voice. Bodolf and Aoelif drew their swards and Ingolf bent his bow, when suddenly the druidess’ arms shot skywards and a roaring wall of flame erupted around her and the King, parting the two of them, as well as their intended sacrifice, from the invading group. Gudlaug heard he begin another spell when suddenly a great roar came from the far side of the grove and an enormous bear charged directly at the company.
One of Arcois’ warriors was the first to act, setting the butt of her spear quickly to better meet the bear’s charge. She wounded it deeply, but with a single swipe of its forepaw the dire beast tossed her aside like a man might swat a buzzing bee. Ingolf fired quickly and drove two arrows deep into the thing’s side while the others moved to engage it. Aoelif and Bodolf ran across the grove towards the wall of flame, thinking rightly that they could most easily avoid it, and Theodorus cast a spell and flew quickly above the fight. All were careful to avoid the tree and its strange guardians, who so far seemed to take no interest in what was going on.
The bear had batted down another of the cimbri and left a deep ash in Ingolf’s side when Nicasia and Gudlaug lent their considerable magical might to the battle. Flames and eldritch energies tore into the thing and in a few moments the tide of that fight had turned.
Aoelif ran across the clearing and made a mighty leap, sailing clear of the flames and landing before the king. Despite the evidence before her doubt still wracked the fianna’s mind. She drew her sword but did not engage the aged monarch. “Your majesty, we are here – we are here to help your kingdom. Stand aside, please.”
“If you want to help my kingdom” Emrys said with a sneer, “you will get the hell out of my way!”
He held his great sword aloft and it blazed for a moment with all the glory his station could afford him. For a second, he seemed to Aoelif not like an aged, frail old man at all, but like the powerful king he must have been in his youth, when he nearly drove humanity from Thessela province entirely.
“Begone, fianna whelp. I’ve no intention of going to my grave as a withered, beaten old man. Or maybe you think yourself a match for me, eh!”
With that Emrys unleashed a torrent of blows, driving Aoelif back towards the wall of fire. She fought to defend herself at first, but realized quickly that, though the old king lacked the strength of youth, his skill had faded not in the least. She quickly shifted her sword to her off hand and drew her flaming brand Sig, and began to fight back in earnest. In a few moments, both the king and the young fianna woman were bloodied and wounded, but Emrys showed no sign of backing down.
Across the circle of flame, Moireach was busy casting yet more spells, and soon a group of huge and vicious looking wolves were circling the stone slab where Brice lay. One or two of them moved off towards Aoelif, who was still engaged with the king. Gudlaug charged forward and through the fires, the spells he’d prepared earlier shielding him from the heat. He regarded the wolves. “Just the thing for that,” Gudlaug said aloud to no one in particular, and with that he threw back his head and made a strange howling sound. Every animal that heard it knew it was the sound of the huntsman coming for them, and they all felt a cold fear clutching at their hearts. Moireach’s wolves turned and fled, cowering in the corner, trapped between the hunter and the fire.
Moireac hissed at Gudlaug. “You whelp. Someday perhaps you will learn what real power is – the power I serve.” The half-elf drew herself up to her full height – and kept going. Her limbs swelled and lengthened, horns burst from her forehead and a pair of leathery wings sprouted from her back. She regarded the dwarf with eyes that were at once very ancient and very evil, and stepped back through the wall of flames. She cast yet another spell, and Gudlaug noted with some dismay that one of the huge trees outside the hedge began to move, slowly taking on a shape and form not unlike a man’s. “Bodolf!” the druid cried “Martaine! Nicasia! We need – some help!”
Ingolf headed towards Moireach first, with Martaine and Nicasia close behind. Theodorus had taken flight once again and was circling wide around the draconic druidess to cut off any attempt at flight. As he did so he saw that, within the circle of flame, Aoelif was being hard pressed by King Emrys. The wizard pulled out a scroll given him by his uncle Jon Dukas – a favorite spell of Nicasia’s, but prepared specially for maximum effect. He quickly read the spell and a spread of magical missiles appeared and sped towards Emrys. All five tore through his aged body like slight bullets through a paper target. Already wounded as he was by his combat with Aoelif this was more than Emrys could take; he fell to the ground dead at the fianna’s feet.
Now, the group had taken pains in advance to disguise themselves, and Theodorus at the moment was in the form of a elvish male, yet Ingolf couldn’t help but worry that the knowledge that a human from Tavia had slain the King of Helveti would leak out somehow, and the thought was troubling to him. But at the moment, there were other cats to skin – Moireach was still alive and Prince Brice lay still asleep within the ring of flame.
Bodolf was the first to reach the animated tree, circling around the wall of fire to do so. He drew his sword and tore into it with a shout. Ingolf and Gudlaug approached from the other side, avoiding the tree and trying to get to Moireach, who was already busy summoning something else to harry them. Ingolf let fly and arrow and saw it strike the druidess in the calf – not a fatal shot but it spoiled her spell. Gudlaug cast aside all pretension of matching her with spellcraft and pulled forth his mace. Moireach belched forth a gout of flame at the dwarf, but his spells absorbed the worst of it, and then he was upon her, with Ingolf close behind him sword in hand. Soon the druidess was caught between the two of them. She saw to her dismay that Bodolf had nearly dispatched the tree and that he too would soon join the fray.
Just when Moireach assumed that things could not possibly get any worse, Aoelif came through the wall of flame, heedless of her own wounds or the pain of the fire. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was still covered in the blood of a king when she reached Moireach. The half-dragon stumbled backwards, pressed as much by the fury in the fianna’s eyes as she was by the fury of her blows. It was the later that finished her off, as Aoelif split her skull open with a mighty blow from Sig, spilling whatever other secrets or plots were swirling in her mind on the ground along with her life.
http://webpages.charter.net/wpeacock/palaestra/index.htm
and awaaay we go . . .
Episode Twenty-Eight
Standing in the blood-soaked grass, Ingolf gave voice to his thoughts about the situation.
“We have to move, and soon. Moireach will have no trouble discovering what has happened here and where we went. We need all the head start we can muster.”
“I think I can throw her off a bit” Gudlaug replied. “Give me a few moments to prepare. Sleep until dawn, at least, when my power is replenished.”
Gudlaug stood the last watch while the rest of the battle-weary group slept. At the first hint of the sun, the dwarven druid gathered the company around him and explained his plan.
“As Ingolf points out, a Druid in the wild has many resources – one as powerful as Moireach doubly so. It will not be easy to evade her and make our escape – especially given that several of us would quite nicely provide the final ingredient she needs to complete this ritual of transformation.” At that, Aoelif touched her own throat with a thoughtful look. Gudlaug saw her and said “None of us have any desire to lose our heads, least of all to further some mad King’s plan. Here is what I propose . . .”
And hour later, the company was on the move again – and quickly. The wily druid had nearly expended his full complement of magics, but in so doing had rendered the entire group and their mounts invisible to any animal spies that Moireach might have in the area. He had also conjured up a clear path for them through the woods and put a friendly wind at their back – the party was moving easily twice the speed of horse across faerie and towards the human lands. From that point the meant to strike out northerly across Thessela province and come to the Credi kingdom, where Brion’s liege Owain could hopefully be found. After an hour or so of this travel, Gudlaug pulled up short and motioned the group to stop. He seemed to be listening to something.
“I left a spy of sorts myself. A listening ringworm placed on a likely rodent. Moireach is approaching the site of the boar’s demise now.”
“A listening . . . ringworm?” Martaine was surprised by his dwarven counterpart yet again. “You can eavesdrop via an infection?”
Gudlaug ignored him. “Moireach is interrogating the local fauna. She knows the details of the combat. Hmmm. She seems to think that her pet troll has thrown in his lot with us.”
“You shapechanged form has confounded her, no doubt.” Nicasia said.
“Emrys is mad.” Gudlaug said suddenly, still listening to the voice of Moireach many miles away, unheard by any but him. “He means to transform himself into this half-dragon to extend his life and then seek revenge.”
“Revenge?” Theodorus said. “On who?”
“All those he seems to think have wronged him. He is gathering his army now to march on Tavia when the transformation is completed. From the sounds of it, if that campaign is successful. I gather the Credi will be his next target.”
“That would follow” Ingolf said. “His defeat many years ago was at least partially because of them.”
Theodorus spoke reluctantly “I have to admit that the armies of the province have been . . . softened somewhat by the recent peaceful times. I am not at all certain that an army of Cimbri warriors would meet all that much opposition. Particularly if they strike with surprise.”
“With a dragon leading them” Nicasia added.
Ingolf savored privately for a moment the thought of a faerie army once more on human soil, then discarded the idea as being ultimately disastrous for him, no matter how patriotic. “Perhaps we should alter our course. Strike out for Tavia at once, warn the governor. I’ve no particular desire to see my adopted home city ruled by a man who would kill his loyal retainers to further his own mad schemes.”
“Or his son.” Gulaug said. The others looked at him with surprise. “My spell is nearly faded, but Moireach mentioned to someone else there that, should her hunt for us prove fruitless, there was always Brice.”
“Who was this other person?” Brion asked.
“She called her Daracha. Do you know of this one?”
“Aye. She is Moireach’s . . . bodyguard, I suppose. She has a dark reputation. They say she has killed many men in Moireach’s defense. They are rumored to be entwined in . . . other ways, as well.”
Ingolf, never slow on the uptake, said “She is Moireach’s assassin lover?”
“Well, whoever she is, Moireach has dispatched her to hunt for us.” Gulaug replied. Brion seemed to not like the sound of that in the slightest.
After a short discussion, the choice was made to keep to the current course. Gudlaug very much wished the council and aid of others of his order and at least one druid was likely to be at Arcois’ court in Credi. Theodorus seemed to think that, could they not somehow head off Emrys’ plans themselves, there was little they could do in Tavia either, though all agreed that a message should be dispatched at the earliest opportunity, warning the governor via Theodorus’ visiting father what was happening.
Synopsis:
From this point, the group moved quickly towards the Credi lands. Near the Iconian border they ran into there old “friend” Sir Eudamon, and with him was Brion’s liege lord Owain. Eudamon had been riding in the province seeking second sons of noble houses to join his Legion. Theodorus persuaded Eudamon to carry a letter for him in all haste to his Uncle Jon Dukas, currently visiting the Collegium in Tavia. Although the hot-headed Eudamon was not told the details of the letter (which revealed the imminent invasion) he was convinced that it was important enough to make his top priority. Owain and Brion elected to return to their home village and hope for the best. His errand to reach Arcois had been successful but of the powerful druid Krossbyr there was no news.
The group rode on to the manor of a Knight named __________ whom Eudamon had recently visited. He extended his hospitality and they are all grateful for it; Ingolf for the beer particularly. Aoelif spent some time in swordplay with the Knight’s son. Gudlaug slept outside.
Episode 29 Synopsis:
The group rode quickly on to Arcois’ court. There they were warmly greeted by the Credi warlord and feasted in his hall. He was aware already of their errand, yet still had no news of Krossbyr. Clearly the senior druid was either disinclined to involve himself in events or otherwise out of the picture. Conference with Arcois led the group to conclude the best course of action was to find Moireach and put a stop to the dragon transformation before it could be completed. Aoelif decided to alert Bodolf the Brave, leader of her Fianna warband, and enlist his aid. Messages were dispatched asking him to meet the group at a small village near the Helveti border. Arcois agreed to allow five of his own warriors to accompany them. Ingolf asked for men that could ride, shoot and move stealthily and the Credi King chose who should go from those that wished it. They were all warned that, while great glory was to be won, perhaps also death awaited. None shirked from this warning and the next morning the small band set out. They found Bodolf at the inn where they requested he meet them, and he seemed quite eager to take up the fight. Thus reinforced, the group headed back into Helveti, towards the druid grove where Moireach and Emrys’ foul plan would reach its climax once the black druidess had collected enough heads.
Episode 30 Synopsis:
Perhaps 20 miles from the grove the group had spotted smoke rising in the distance, another village perhaps, under assault by whatever new horror Moireach had created. Gudlaug flew ahead in the form of a sharp-eyed eagle to see what he might learn. He returned in a half hour or so with dire news.
“She’s summoned up – or built – something new.” The dwarven druid reported.
“Built? What do you mean?” Theodorus said. Ingolf’s thoughts flashed back momentarily to the great iron construct that bore the legless master of the Wizard’s Collegium about Tavia.
“A sort of - wicker man.” Gudlaugh said. “A truly huge one. It is stomping about the village crushing any houses not already demolished.”
Bodolf spoke next. “How many heads does she lack for this black ritual? Do we know?”
“Not just any head will do” Aoelif said. “Only the heads of the powerful – of heroes. That is what she needs.”
“Well,” the Fianna leader replied, “I feel certain I qualify, at least, though I have no intention of giving up my head without a struggle. Thought we are but a dozen men and women I count that a fortuitous number. Let’s go see this wicker man and discover what happens!”
With that, the Fianna leader rode quickly up the road, not bothering to look to see if he was being followed. In short order the company was drawing close to the village. As the rode out of the edge of the wood and into the vegetable gardens and animal pens at the edge of the town, they could all see what Gudlaug had reported.
Looming over the last undamaged structure in town was a huge figure, seemingly made of vines and tree branches, living and dead alike, woven together. It had the form of a giant man and was, if anything, even larger than the boar. The Credi warriors, unused as they were to such sights, drew up short, but Bodolf urged them onwards by actions rather than deed – he charged directly at the thing on horseback.
The rest of the company surged forward as well, weapons in hand. Ingolf considered his shortbow but quickly discarded that notion. He drew his light, thrusting sword and realized that he was singularly ill-prepared to tackle a living golem of vines and saplings. A female voice that they guessed to be Moireach’s seemed to be coming from the wicker man’s head, and it was cackling with glee. Suddenly from the rear of the advance came an abrupt cry of pain – Gudlaug had an arrow planted deeply in his shoulder. Theodorus and Ingolf cast about in a near panic when the bard spotted movement in the tree above, and caught a glimpse of a leather-clad form.
Bodolf was the first to react. He dropped from his saddle, pulling a javelin as he did so. He turned to face the assassin above them and set his feet in a certain way. With a shout he let fly his spear, and it struck the assassin in the chest, twisting violently as it did so. Aoelif regarded this with interest – it was a trick of the fianna that she had heard tales of but did not herself know how to accomplish. The woman yelled out in pain and doubled over. Gudlaug heard her cry “Moireach!” as she did so, and suddenly the battlefield was aflame. Fire erupted all around the charging warriors, and several of Arcois’ men fell charred and dead to the ground. Martaine and Aoelif were burned as well, though Nicasia managed to avoid the fires, twisting aside at the last possible moment.
With characteristically dwarven indifference to suffering, Gudlaug pulled the arrow from his shoulder and noted, with some annoyance, that the tip was smeared with a dark black tar. Already the wound hurt far more than it should, but the dwarf had no time to worry about poisons. He intoned a quick spell to stop the bleeding and left the invisible attacker to be dealt with by Theodorus and Ingolf. The bard noted that the woman seemed badly wounded by Bodolf’s spear, and as he watched she produced and drank some magical elixir – and promptly vanished from sight. Theodorus quickly produced and read a scroll he had prepare earlier and began hunting for the would-be killer, who they assumed to be Daracha, Moireach’s personal bodyguard.
Martaine moved as quickly as he could from one wounded to the next, doing what he was able. The group was split at this point, with those in the back trying to deal with Daracha while Aoelif and Bodolf alone opposed the wicker golem. Gudlaug was moving towards the thing as quickly as he could, but it was clear that Bodolf would reach it first.
As he ran towards the golem, Bodolf could see that woven in among the vines and saplings in the thing’s head was the skull of some animal, a horse perhaps. A pale green fire flickered in its eye sockets and he could hear the voice of Moireach coming from the skull, intoning another spell. He knew that another storm of fire was more than the group could weather. He closed with the wicker construct and then, with a yell that all who knew the feats of the fianna had heard before, he leapt towards the wicker head, sword in hand.
His first blow smashed the skull into flinders even as he landed on the thing’s shoulders. This victory was very short lived, however – in a moment the wicker man had Bodolf by the ankle like a rag doll. To the amazement of all it did not fling him aside or dash his head against the earth. Rather, it reached down with its free hand and forced an opening through the vines in its own chest. Into this Bodolf the Brave was unceremoniously stuffed, like a fistful of bread pudding into a goose. Aoelif leapt screaming at the thing with swords in hand, heedless of her own wounds in her desire to rescue her captain. Martaine moved close behind to support the howling fianna.
Across the battlefield, Ingolf and Nicasia searched in vain for the invisible assassin somewhere in the canopy of tree branches above them. Theodorus intoned a sequence of spells and took to the air. Another spell rendered his target visible – but to himself only. As he watched she drank another potion and flew off, clearly meaning to flee the scene of the combat. Theodorus called up a magical bolt of acid and flung it at the fleeing assassin but missed. She sped off and the mage flew after her in hot pursuit.
Aoelif drew her enchanted blade Sig and closed with the golem, suffering more abuse from the huge woody fists as she did so. She was about to tear into the strange creature with the flaming blade when she heard a muffled cry from within yelling “No flames! No flames!” With a curse she extinguished what was no doubt the most efficacious weapon any in the group possessed and engaged it without the benefit of fire. Martaine had moved in close behind and was able to heal the most grievous of Aoelif’s burns. Gudlaug strode forth with his weapon in hand alongside the fianna and together they engaged the thing as best they were able.
Suddenly from the general vicinity of the construct’s chest came a terrific crashing sound, like someone forcing his way through a dense thicket. Leaves and branches fairly exploded from the wicker golem’s chest, and a dazed, bloodied and scratched, but very much alive, Boldolf, tumbled out to the ground. In his hand was a dagger sticky with sap. Aoelif redoubled her efforts and moments later the strange wicker thing was a shambles. The damage dealt to it from within and without was more than the magic animating it could compensate for. From the wreck of the thing emerged two surprised and wounded Cimbri warriors – the thing’s prior targets.
Somewhere above them Theodorus was still chasing Daracha, who he alone could see. He hurled another acidic missile at her but missed again, then with a curse he threw a mesh of sticky magical webbing across her path. Daracha flew directly into the webbing strung between the tree branches and was ensnared; Theodorus then began intoning a different spell and a series of magic missiles sped unerringly into the already wounded assassin, finishing her.
The group gathered their wits about them. Gudlaug went to each of the Cimbri fallen and said a few words in the ancient language of the druids; Martaine assumed it was the druidic equivalent of last rites. The two Cimbri that had been rescued from the inside of the wicker golem quickly told the tale of what had happened. The golem had come before dawn, smashing the houses and farmsteads of the half-elves and driving the women and children of the village before itself like cattle. The men had tried to fight back – all were slain, save the two taken by the thing.
“This was no doubt meant to draw us in.” Ingolf said. “Moireach’s last chance to capture one of us for her ritual.”
“I note also that her assassin struck at Gudlaug first” Martaine added.
“Aye. No doubt she considers another druid the one most likely to thwart her plans. What will she do next, I wonder?”
Aoelif answered that one. “She will do what she said she would when Gudlaug was eavedropping. She’ll kill Emrys’ son and finish her ritual that way.”
Bodolf looked up from where he sat as Martaine tended his wounds. “What! Is Emrys mad enough to sacrifice his own son for this plot?”
“Moireach is, at least, if not Emrys” Aoelif said. “we should head out at once for the druid grove.”
One of the rescued Cimbri spoke up. “We know the way, if you do not. And we’d like to join with you.”
“Aye,” Gudlaug said “some at least of Moireach’s potential victims should be there to see her fall.” A slow smoldering fire was burning in the dwarf’s eyes. He headed towards his pony without looking to see if the others were following; all of them were close behind.
The company rode hard and made camp late that night. As they sat rubbing out the cramps from ahrd ride, Gudlaug told them all what to expect.
“I know nothing of this ritual that Moireach believes will transform Emrys into a dragon, or half-dragon. But I can guess a few things about it and about the grove. The place will be deeply connected to the unseelie side of faerie. There will be guardians also.”
“Such as that boar?” Nicasia asked. “I’d as soon not meet that again.”
“Not quite.” Gudlaug went on. “The boar was – unique. A servant of the grove but not of Moireach – I believe she deceived the guardians of the grove into letting her use the boar in this scheme. The guardians themselves may not be part of her plots.”
“Let us hope not” Bodolf interrupted. “I want nothing to come between my blade and this mad king and his druid.”
Aoelif hesitantly replied to her captain “We do not know for sure that Emrys is part of all this. He might be a pawn himself. Moireach is rumored to have much sway over him.”
“Be that as it may” Gudlaug ent on “we will have to find out once we reach them. My warning is simply this – make no aggressive move towards the guardians of the grove, whatever they may be. We should defend ourselves, but it may be that we need not come to blow with the worst of our possible opponents. Offer them no offense and be doubly certain to harm no growing thing within the boundaries of the grove.”
The next day was dark, low clouds pressed down on the treetops and the group’s spirits. Nonetheless they pressed on and reached the area of the grove before noon. Ingolf was preparing to scout cautiously ahead when suddenly they all heard an oddly familiar voice calling out to him in Cimbri.
“Stop! Go no further!”
It was Brion, the cimbri warrior who they last saw in the company of his master Owain.
“Brion?” Ingolf said. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question. What business have you here?”
“You know well what our business is” Gudlaug said. “We mean to stop this ritual.”
“I know – I know nothing of any ritual, save the one we were commended to attend. King Emrys will pass down the crown to his son Brice today. All of Emrys bannermen were commanded to be present.”
“All his surviving bannermen, you mean” said Theodorus.
Brion blanched at that. “Aye. All of them are here, with their retainers, as our king commanded us.” The young warrior was clearly upset. He gripped his spear in both hands, twisting the haft between them. “I – I do not know what is going to happen.”
“Brion, you were with us when we fought that troll thing, and you know what it said.” Martaine said. “You know that things are not as they seem here.”
“I heard the troll, aye. Am I to believe it over the word of my own King? I do not know what is gong to happen.”
“Brion” Ingolf said “find your liege. Tell Owain that we are here, that we mean to discover exactly what Moireach is up to, and that if it involves the murder of Brice as we believe it does, we mean to stop it.”
“The Prince! He’s here, of course. You think she means to . . .”
“Kill him, aye, to provide the final bit of power she needs for this ritual. We will stop her if we can.”
“Tell him the Fianna are come” Bodolf suddenly spoke. “Tell him that Bodolf the Brave means to see the crown passed on to the heir of Helveti, as it should be. If that is what is really about to happen, then no one need have any worries.”
Brion looked uncertain. “I was ordered to prevent any from entering the grove” he said.
“Clearly there are too many of us for you to stop” Ingolf replied.
“I should summon aid” Brion said with a wry smile. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so for me to get help.” With that he turned and moved off into the wood. The group pressed on, towards the grove. They could see the high hedge surrounding it, and one narrow opening on the near side.
“remember” Gudlaug warned them again “harm no growing thing within that hedge, and defend yourself only – do not draw a blade against anything that shows you no hostility.” They all moved forward resolutely, though a few of the cimbri warriors with them clearly had misgivings about the entire affair. Inside the grove, they could see a splash of light in the gloom – something, clearly, was happening.
The grove was ancient, Gudlaug and even Ingolf could feel how ancient it was as they approached. The hedge wall surrounding it was too high to see over and to dense to penetrate, so the group was forced to the one opening in the circle. In the middle of the grove a huge oak stood – black and flat as midnight. Black roots twisted into a great black bole that spread a canopy of black leaves above them. Ingolf thought immediately of the plane of shadow, where Zacarra had been spirited away form them, and of what they had seen there.
Around the tree stood four elves, almost invisible at first, as they were the same flat black as the tree itself. Slender bows were in there hands and the nearest one regarded the group with his dead black eyes. They neither spoke, nor moved, nor met the gaze of any that looked at them. They merely stood guard.
On the far side of the grove they saw her at last – Moireach the druid stood over a stone slab, swaying slowly, almost like a serpent, to some music she alone could hear. She was saying something that none of them understood. To her right stood Emrys, the King they had seen but once before, at the wedding of his son Brice. He was armored fully and bore before him the huge sword of state, but he looked frail. Old, tired, withered – but in his eyes a strange light was playing. If Inolf had any doubt about the man’s culpability in the whole mad scheme, it vanished at that moment.
Emrys was looking down at the slab of stone in front of him. On it lay the bound and unconscious form of his own son Brice. Ingolf guessed that the prince had been drugged or ensorcelled – his sleep did not have the wholesome quality of natural slumber.
Moireach suddenly looked at the group and hissed in a sibilant, almost reptilian voice. Bodolf and Aoelif drew their swards and Ingolf bent his bow, when suddenly the druidess’ arms shot skywards and a roaring wall of flame erupted around her and the King, parting the two of them, as well as their intended sacrifice, from the invading group. Gudlaug heard he begin another spell when suddenly a great roar came from the far side of the grove and an enormous bear charged directly at the company.
One of Arcois’ warriors was the first to act, setting the butt of her spear quickly to better meet the bear’s charge. She wounded it deeply, but with a single swipe of its forepaw the dire beast tossed her aside like a man might swat a buzzing bee. Ingolf fired quickly and drove two arrows deep into the thing’s side while the others moved to engage it. Aoelif and Bodolf ran across the grove towards the wall of flame, thinking rightly that they could most easily avoid it, and Theodorus cast a spell and flew quickly above the fight. All were careful to avoid the tree and its strange guardians, who so far seemed to take no interest in what was going on.
The bear had batted down another of the cimbri and left a deep ash in Ingolf’s side when Nicasia and Gudlaug lent their considerable magical might to the battle. Flames and eldritch energies tore into the thing and in a few moments the tide of that fight had turned.
Aoelif ran across the clearing and made a mighty leap, sailing clear of the flames and landing before the king. Despite the evidence before her doubt still wracked the fianna’s mind. She drew her sword but did not engage the aged monarch. “Your majesty, we are here – we are here to help your kingdom. Stand aside, please.”
“If you want to help my kingdom” Emrys said with a sneer, “you will get the hell out of my way!”
He held his great sword aloft and it blazed for a moment with all the glory his station could afford him. For a second, he seemed to Aoelif not like an aged, frail old man at all, but like the powerful king he must have been in his youth, when he nearly drove humanity from Thessela province entirely.
“Begone, fianna whelp. I’ve no intention of going to my grave as a withered, beaten old man. Or maybe you think yourself a match for me, eh!”
With that Emrys unleashed a torrent of blows, driving Aoelif back towards the wall of fire. She fought to defend herself at first, but realized quickly that, though the old king lacked the strength of youth, his skill had faded not in the least. She quickly shifted her sword to her off hand and drew her flaming brand Sig, and began to fight back in earnest. In a few moments, both the king and the young fianna woman were bloodied and wounded, but Emrys showed no sign of backing down.
Across the circle of flame, Moireach was busy casting yet more spells, and soon a group of huge and vicious looking wolves were circling the stone slab where Brice lay. One or two of them moved off towards Aoelif, who was still engaged with the king. Gudlaug charged forward and through the fires, the spells he’d prepared earlier shielding him from the heat. He regarded the wolves. “Just the thing for that,” Gudlaug said aloud to no one in particular, and with that he threw back his head and made a strange howling sound. Every animal that heard it knew it was the sound of the huntsman coming for them, and they all felt a cold fear clutching at their hearts. Moireach’s wolves turned and fled, cowering in the corner, trapped between the hunter and the fire.
Moireac hissed at Gudlaug. “You whelp. Someday perhaps you will learn what real power is – the power I serve.” The half-elf drew herself up to her full height – and kept going. Her limbs swelled and lengthened, horns burst from her forehead and a pair of leathery wings sprouted from her back. She regarded the dwarf with eyes that were at once very ancient and very evil, and stepped back through the wall of flames. She cast yet another spell, and Gudlaug noted with some dismay that one of the huge trees outside the hedge began to move, slowly taking on a shape and form not unlike a man’s. “Bodolf!” the druid cried “Martaine! Nicasia! We need – some help!”
Ingolf headed towards Moireach first, with Martaine and Nicasia close behind. Theodorus had taken flight once again and was circling wide around the draconic druidess to cut off any attempt at flight. As he did so he saw that, within the circle of flame, Aoelif was being hard pressed by King Emrys. The wizard pulled out a scroll given him by his uncle Jon Dukas – a favorite spell of Nicasia’s, but prepared specially for maximum effect. He quickly read the spell and a spread of magical missiles appeared and sped towards Emrys. All five tore through his aged body like slight bullets through a paper target. Already wounded as he was by his combat with Aoelif this was more than Emrys could take; he fell to the ground dead at the fianna’s feet.
Now, the group had taken pains in advance to disguise themselves, and Theodorus at the moment was in the form of a elvish male, yet Ingolf couldn’t help but worry that the knowledge that a human from Tavia had slain the King of Helveti would leak out somehow, and the thought was troubling to him. But at the moment, there were other cats to skin – Moireach was still alive and Prince Brice lay still asleep within the ring of flame.
Bodolf was the first to reach the animated tree, circling around the wall of fire to do so. He drew his sword and tore into it with a shout. Ingolf and Gudlaug approached from the other side, avoiding the tree and trying to get to Moireach, who was already busy summoning something else to harry them. Ingolf let fly and arrow and saw it strike the druidess in the calf – not a fatal shot but it spoiled her spell. Gudlaug cast aside all pretension of matching her with spellcraft and pulled forth his mace. Moireach belched forth a gout of flame at the dwarf, but his spells absorbed the worst of it, and then he was upon her, with Ingolf close behind him sword in hand. Soon the druidess was caught between the two of them. She saw to her dismay that Bodolf had nearly dispatched the tree and that he too would soon join the fray.
Just when Moireach assumed that things could not possibly get any worse, Aoelif came through the wall of flame, heedless of her own wounds or the pain of the fire. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was still covered in the blood of a king when she reached Moireach. The half-dragon stumbled backwards, pressed as much by the fury in the fianna’s eyes as she was by the fury of her blows. It was the later that finished her off, as Aoelif split her skull open with a mighty blow from Sig, spilling whatever other secrets or plots were swirling in her mind on the ground along with her life.
