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Curse of Darkness VI - The Valley of the Sun
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<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5926912" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The night was alive with activity as word of the farmer's good fortune spread, and neighbors took turns cutting wood and stoking the fires needed to keep the dye hot. Not all of the wool was ready to be dyed, for it needed to be washed free of oil before the color would take, but the farmer wasn't greedy, and begrudged no one the use of his dye vat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Penn sat outside, wrapped in a warm blanket, and strumming at his new lyre. His music evoked no magic, for none was called for, but its bright tones turned the long night's labors into a festive occasion, and soon the neighbors were bringing food and drink, as well as their ready wool.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The night ran out before the dye was done, but the companions' energies ran out well before either one, and eventually they did sleep.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The sun rose well before anyone in the village did, for their labors were not without a cost, but the companions found a generous repast waiting when it came time to break their fast. Fresh bread, still warm from the oven, and a hard, sharp cheese, along with a bit of warm spiced wine to take the chill of the night away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The young Dwarf in the work yard looked up from his task as they emerged from the barn. He was scrubbing out the cauldron, lest the remaining red pollute the next color it would be used for, and was glad of the interruption. "There were men here looking for you.", he said. "They were asking about, near sunset."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"What did they look like?", Sylus asked hopefully.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Ugly humans.", the boy nodded smugly. "Big axes, big anger, small brains."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"And they were told?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"To go away.", the lad laughed. "What would Elves and Fey be doing here? Besides, they were looking for eight of you, not four."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Well, if they ask again, tell them we went north and west.", the Ranger advised, a flicker of gold in his fingers.</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The boy waved off the gift, saying, "It's enough to send these chasing the wild goose. So, you're really heading back south?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"No, we're looking for the Temple of the Sun, east of here."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Ah, we know of that place.", their confident nodded. "It's the only valley around where the sun shines clearly. You should reach it in a few days, if the weather holds."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"By the way, you don't need to worry about cleaning that vat.", Penn informed their helpful friend. "I'm going to fill it with the Phoenician before I leave, and the magic will take the red with it."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The boy thought about that a bit, then shook his head. "Better to do the job right, every time. It's the only way to master any trade."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Do you think anyone will tell where we went?", Euphemia asked, as they headed out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I doubt they'll have the energy.", Apellenea laughed. "They were up all last night, and now they have to wash as much of the raw wool as they can before the new dye fails."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Oh, the Phoenician purple will keep. I just hope the tradesmen don't catch wind of what I did.", Penn laughed. "That's probably more of the finished dye than they produce in a season, and no doubt I've broken more guild rules than anyone has broken in a season."</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I noticed you didn't fill the third vat. They wanted the blue as well, didn't they?"</span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Yes, but the blue is poisonous.", the Bard explained. "I have to drink some of whatever I make, and if I'd consumed any of that dye I wouldn't be here now."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"You know we're being followed, don't you?", Euphemia asked, when they paused for a breather.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Yeah. I catch a glimpse of them every now and then.”, Sylus replied. “Might be the ones we heard about, but it might not."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"What say we just wait here for them?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Sylus looked the group over and considered. The road they were on was cut across a sharp slope, and was doubling back on itself as it climbed. There was very little cover for an ambush of any sort. He was better with a bow than blade, and he was the only real swordsman they had. Euphemia was a true terror at infighting, but Penn and Apellenea were all but useless when it came to a real scrap. The riders who followed looked like they knew their way around a brawl, and from what glimpses he had seen there were at least four of them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"I think we should keep moving.", he concluded. "They'll catch us, or they won't."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Won't.", countered Euphemia, as she looked back down the road. "They stop whenever we stop. They're following, not chasing. They'll hit us on their own time."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Maybe we'll get lucky, and it will snow on them.", Penn joked. It was a sick joke, as seemed to match his humor since the temple, for while snow would make the rocky trail a nightmare for a horse, it would scarcely be any better for them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Let's see if we can find a way to lose them.", Sylus insisted. And so they pressed on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Twilight comes early in the mountains, and earlier in the winter, but the companions pressed on into the growing gloom. Their pursuers were human, or so they had been told, and couldn't manage the darkness very well. Trying to ride or lead a horse up this trail would be suicide in the gloom of a winter night.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The companions finally made camp a full hour after the sun had set, hopefully giving them a bit of a lead on those who followed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">A cold wind blew down that mountain pass through the night, carrying the sting of ice in its biting grip, but the small niche they'd hidden in gave some shelter, and they kept their fire well stoked, so they held off the worst of the bitter cold.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The next morning began with porridge and hot tea to warm them up, and Penn managed to strike up a merry tune to lighten and speed their steps as they set out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Still, they knew their shadows followed them, for there were no side trails or bypasses on this climb.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">*** </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"Did you hear that?", Apellenea asked, her ears perking up. "It came from the woods."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The trail had broadened here, leaving room for a stand of trees off to the right, and a long tailing of evergreen that strayed downslope from there. The sharp whistle repeated, echoing off the hard mountains around.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Then a flicker of shadow crossed the road, and Sylus' bow was out in an instant.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">From above came four winged things, birdlike in form but like no bird Apellenea had ever seen. Feathers covered their long bodies, and wings bore them aloft, but in place of legs they sported a second set of wings.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"They're diving out of the sun!", Sylus cried, sighting on the lead one. The shroud of gray that cloaked the sky was a blessing this time, for while the creature's instincts had had them dive with the sun at their backs, it wasn't blinding. What little sun there was had sent their shadows ahead of them, giving warning instead.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Penn began to play a different tune, laughing as he did so. "Let's see how they like a crowd!" And the breezes danced about them, whipping up a cloud of pine needles mixed with wisps of snow. In moments the swirling cloud had coalesced into dozens of people, each a reflection of one of the companions. And they were moving about, walking, side stepping and trading places with each other in a bewildering pedestrian dance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">A dozen Sylus drew their bows, but only a single arrow flew to meet the diving flock. Then twenty Euphemia' drew short bows and fired. Again, only one arrow flew, but it was near impossible to tell where in the crowd it had come from.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The birds pulled up in confusion and began to circle. Then the leader took a short loop and opened its beak. Lightning flashed down into the crowd, and Penn fell to the ground, burned to ashes. But fifteen other Penn's laughed and played and danced about, unperturbed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The other companions saw what was going on and joined in the dance, stepping and firing at the birds while a throng of other archers milled about.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Again, lightning flashed down, and again a dancer vanished, but the dance continued.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Each volley of arrows was met by a matching volley of thunderbolts, but the archers knew where their targets were, while the avian attackers were presented with a myriad of possible targets. Occasionally their bolts would strike true, but far more often they merely scarred the road, or banished a phantom from the apparently endless gallery.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">Finally one of the birds spotted a flaw in the performance, and his bolts began to strike true. The others soon followed suit, but the new revelation came too late, and couldn't undo the damage that had already been done. Companions stood solid, while birds began to fall.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">And then they were done. The last of the strange fliers fell, its arc taking it beyond the cliff edge and away. The one that had fallen on the road was rapidly fading, returning to whatever strange world that had spawned it, for such beasts were clearly not from the realms of mortal man.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"What were those things?", Apellenea gasped, as she began to treat the group's lightning burns.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"You don't know?", Euphemia asked in amazement. "You've known the name of every plant, bug, bird, boulder and beast we've seen. How can you not know what those were?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"They're called Arrowhawks.", Penn supplied. "Beasts summoned from the nether realms, if the sagas are to be believed."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"So this wasn't just a random attack?", Sylus asked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'">"No, those weren't from our world at all. Someone has shown their hand."</span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial'"></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5926912, member: 6669384"] [FONT=Arial]*** The night was alive with activity as word of the farmer's good fortune spread, and neighbors took turns cutting wood and stoking the fires needed to keep the dye hot. Not all of the wool was ready to be dyed, for it needed to be washed free of oil before the color would take, but the farmer wasn't greedy, and begrudged no one the use of his dye vat. Penn sat outside, wrapped in a warm blanket, and strumming at his new lyre. His music evoked no magic, for none was called for, but its bright tones turned the long night's labors into a festive occasion, and soon the neighbors were bringing food and drink, as well as their ready wool.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The night ran out before the dye was done, but the companions' energies ran out well before either one, and eventually they did sleep.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** The sun rose well before anyone in the village did, for their labors were not without a cost, but the companions found a generous repast waiting when it came time to break their fast. Fresh bread, still warm from the oven, and a hard, sharp cheese, along with a bit of warm spiced wine to take the chill of the night away. The young Dwarf in the work yard looked up from his task as they emerged from the barn. He was scrubbing out the cauldron, lest the remaining red pollute the next color it would be used for, and was glad of the interruption. "There were men here looking for you.", he said. "They were asking about, near sunset."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "What did they look like?", Sylus asked hopefully.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Ugly humans.", the boy nodded smugly. "Big axes, big anger, small brains."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "And they were told?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "To go away.", the lad laughed. "What would Elves and Fey be doing here? Besides, they were looking for eight of you, not four."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Well, if they ask again, tell them we went north and west.", the Ranger advised, a flicker of gold in his fingers.[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The boy waved off the gift, saying, "It's enough to send these chasing the wild goose. So, you're really heading back south?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "No, we're looking for the Temple of the Sun, east of here."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Ah, we know of that place.", their confident nodded. "It's the only valley around where the sun shines clearly. You should reach it in a few days, if the weather holds."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "By the way, you don't need to worry about cleaning that vat.", Penn informed their helpful friend. "I'm going to fill it with the Phoenician before I leave, and the magic will take the red with it."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] The boy thought about that a bit, then shook his head. "Better to do the job right, every time. It's the only way to master any trade."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] *** "Do you think anyone will tell where we went?", Euphemia asked, as they headed out. "I doubt they'll have the energy.", Apellenea laughed. "They were up all last night, and now they have to wash as much of the raw wool as they can before the new dye fails."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Oh, the Phoenician purple will keep. I just hope the tradesmen don't catch wind of what I did.", Penn laughed. "That's probably more of the finished dye than they produce in a season, and no doubt I've broken more guild rules than anyone has broken in a season."[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "I noticed you didn't fill the third vat. They wanted the blue as well, didn't they?"[/FONT] [FONT=Arial] "Yes, but the blue is poisonous.", the Bard explained. "I have to drink some of whatever I make, and if I'd consumed any of that dye I wouldn't be here now." [/FONT] [FONT=Arial]*** "You know we're being followed, don't you?", Euphemia asked, when they paused for a breather. "Yeah. I catch a glimpse of them every now and then.”, Sylus replied. “Might be the ones we heard about, but it might not." "What say we just wait here for them?" Sylus looked the group over and considered. The road they were on was cut across a sharp slope, and was doubling back on itself as it climbed. There was very little cover for an ambush of any sort. He was better with a bow than blade, and he was the only real swordsman they had. Euphemia was a true terror at infighting, but Penn and Apellenea were all but useless when it came to a real scrap. The riders who followed looked like they knew their way around a brawl, and from what glimpses he had seen there were at least four of them. "I think we should keep moving.", he concluded. "They'll catch us, or they won't." "Won't.", countered Euphemia, as she looked back down the road. "They stop whenever we stop. They're following, not chasing. They'll hit us on their own time." "Maybe we'll get lucky, and it will snow on them.", Penn joked. It was a sick joke, as seemed to match his humor since the temple, for while snow would make the rocky trail a nightmare for a horse, it would scarcely be any better for them. "Let's see if we can find a way to lose them.", Sylus insisted. And so they pressed on. Twilight comes early in the mountains, and earlier in the winter, but the companions pressed on into the growing gloom. Their pursuers were human, or so they had been told, and couldn't manage the darkness very well. Trying to ride or lead a horse up this trail would be suicide in the gloom of a winter night. The companions finally made camp a full hour after the sun had set, hopefully giving them a bit of a lead on those who followed. A cold wind blew down that mountain pass through the night, carrying the sting of ice in its biting grip, but the small niche they'd hidden in gave some shelter, and they kept their fire well stoked, so they held off the worst of the bitter cold. The next morning began with porridge and hot tea to warm them up, and Penn managed to strike up a merry tune to lighten and speed their steps as they set out. Still, they knew their shadows followed them, for there were no side trails or bypasses on this climb. *** "Did you hear that?", Apellenea asked, her ears perking up. "It came from the woods." The trail had broadened here, leaving room for a stand of trees off to the right, and a long tailing of evergreen that strayed downslope from there. The sharp whistle repeated, echoing off the hard mountains around. Then a flicker of shadow crossed the road, and Sylus' bow was out in an instant. From above came four winged things, birdlike in form but like no bird Apellenea had ever seen. Feathers covered their long bodies, and wings bore them aloft, but in place of legs they sported a second set of wings. "They're diving out of the sun!", Sylus cried, sighting on the lead one. The shroud of gray that cloaked the sky was a blessing this time, for while the creature's instincts had had them dive with the sun at their backs, it wasn't blinding. What little sun there was had sent their shadows ahead of them, giving warning instead. Penn began to play a different tune, laughing as he did so. "Let's see how they like a crowd!" And the breezes danced about them, whipping up a cloud of pine needles mixed with wisps of snow. In moments the swirling cloud had coalesced into dozens of people, each a reflection of one of the companions. And they were moving about, walking, side stepping and trading places with each other in a bewildering pedestrian dance. A dozen Sylus drew their bows, but only a single arrow flew to meet the diving flock. Then twenty Euphemia' drew short bows and fired. Again, only one arrow flew, but it was near impossible to tell where in the crowd it had come from. The birds pulled up in confusion and began to circle. Then the leader took a short loop and opened its beak. Lightning flashed down into the crowd, and Penn fell to the ground, burned to ashes. But fifteen other Penn's laughed and played and danced about, unperturbed. The other companions saw what was going on and joined in the dance, stepping and firing at the birds while a throng of other archers milled about. Again, lightning flashed down, and again a dancer vanished, but the dance continued. Each volley of arrows was met by a matching volley of thunderbolts, but the archers knew where their targets were, while the avian attackers were presented with a myriad of possible targets. Occasionally their bolts would strike true, but far more often they merely scarred the road, or banished a phantom from the apparently endless gallery. Finally one of the birds spotted a flaw in the performance, and his bolts began to strike true. The others soon followed suit, but the new revelation came too late, and couldn't undo the damage that had already been done. Companions stood solid, while birds began to fall. And then they were done. The last of the strange fliers fell, its arc taking it beyond the cliff edge and away. The one that had fallen on the road was rapidly fading, returning to whatever strange world that had spawned it, for such beasts were clearly not from the realms of mortal man. "What were those things?", Apellenea gasped, as she began to treat the group's lightning burns. "You don't know?", Euphemia asked in amazement. "You've known the name of every plant, bug, bird, boulder and beast we've seen. How can you not know what those were?" "They're called Arrowhawks.", Penn supplied. "Beasts summoned from the nether realms, if the sagas are to be believed." "So this wasn't just a random attack?", Sylus asked. "No, those weren't from our world at all. Someone has shown their hand." [/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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