“How can I help you, Master Devrim?” Alaria said with a yawn.
“You already have, of course, Magess.” Devrim answered with a smile. “You’ve helped us all.”
They trod casually through the tall grass across the field toward the trees. Their way was softly lit by the slim crescent of the great moon, Arinane. The green moon, Sorilorr, had already begun its descent into the west. The smaller moon’s green light already overtaken my Arinane’s soft silver.
“I’m afraid I can not take credit for that, Master Devrim.” Alaria admitted. “Were it not for my companions, I doubt we would be having this conversation.”
“Yes. Your band of champions is most impressive.” Devrim agreed. “But I am wracked with guilt that I was unable to aid with my own powers.”
Alaria looked at the thin man’s small face. She plainly saw his sincerity. “There is no shame in that. Again, my magics would never have staved off the trolls’ attack.” She did not like admitting her own weakness nor did she wish to belay the fear or near helplessness she firmly felt during the encounter. “I am certain your magics will provide other opportunities to help others…if that is your wish.”
Just then, a breeze blew across the hill top, rustling the grasses and quickly drying leaves of the copse not far ahead of them. The wind brought with is a line of clouds that shrouded the moonlight most completely.
Alaria stopped moving in the complete darkness of the night. She heard Devrim mutter a something, a single syllable, under his breath and a puffball of powdery blue light, no larger than an orange, appeared before them. With their way lit, Devrim continued walking forward. Alaria joined him.
“You see? Your magic is helping others already?” Alaria said with a smile. She did not mention to the young mage from Welford that the cantrip would be capable by any first year apprentii at any of academy in R’Hath.
“A small thing.” Devrim replied, not seeing her smile. “Nothing like you are capable of.”
“How do you mean?”
“The farmer, Maracus I think is his name, was telling the tale of the battle around his campfire. He said you transformed the Redstar into a giant. That is real magic.”
Alaria could make no reply. It was a taxing spell, to be sure. But hardly what she would consider “real magic.”
“Well,” began Alaria, “if you like, I’m sure you could return to your master to learn that spell.”
“My master is dead.” Devrim said.
“I’m very sorry, Devrim.” Alaria said with sadness in her voice.
The bond between mentor and apprentice, at least as far as she knew growing up in R’Hath, was a very strong one. For most it was akin to a bond of blood and family. Alaria found she could not imagine the pain of loosing one’s master. But, as she had always been taught, it was a fact of life. One mourned the passing of one’s parents and one’s mentor nearly the same, moreso for some.
“Would…,” Devrim began. His voice was filled with nerves. “Would I be able to copy the Enlarging spell from you?” He looked at her like a kicked puppy. Hope and longing filled his face.
Alaria’s fingertips rose to the base of her neck, as if the very question had exposed her somehow. Her mind was a flurry of indignation. In R’Hath, the sharing of magics was something done only among family, one’s master or very well-known and trusted friends…and even then only in exchange for some comparable spell or other magic. Asking to peruse one’s spellbook was akin to asking for a piece of one’s soul.
“Devrim…We’ve really only just met.” Alaria began. Her mind raced as to how to let the pitiful looking man down easy. She reminded herself that the ways of the Mysteries in R’Hath were not necessarily the ways for outlander wizards.
“Yes. Of course.I understand.” Devrim said with knowing and defeat.
Alaria thought for a moment. “If you wish to increase your abilities, I’m sure you could find a new mentor who could teach it to you. The Green Witch, perhaps?”
Devrim shook his head as they neared the treeline of the copse. “The Lady Rhea takes no apprentices. The ways of the Initiates of the Emerald Tear are not the ways of our Mysteries.”
“Of course.” Alaria replied though she was rather unfamiliar with anything about the Order of the Emerald Tear other than their reputation as mentalists.
“But, you are correct.” His tone changed almost to one of joviality. “And I have found a new mentor. Just yesterday as we traveled.”
This surprised Alaria greatly. “Really? I did not know there is another mage in the caravan.”
“Oh yes.” Devrim said cheerily. “He has a magic wand and everything. I heard your halfling telling a tale that you had a wand, too. You blew a hole in the side of boat with lightning? Is that true?”
Another mage with a magic wand? Alaria thought. Something about it did not sound right. “Well, yes, but Haelan is prone to exaggeration.” Alaria was suddenly aware that they had traversed the whole field and stood just at the trees and undergrowth of the copse. The camp was nothing but a spots of orange glows from the various dying fires. “Perhaps we should go back to the camp now.” She said, trying to make it sound as relaxed as she could.
“Oh, not yet! I brought you here to meet my new friend. He’s a wonderful man and very much desired to meet you. I think you will like him.”
“Why here? Why is he not at camp?” Alaria did not expect an answer, nor did she want one. She simply wanted to return to camp and her champions. Her strength for magic was all but spent and she needed her rest. “Come, Devrim,” Alaria said not asking, “let us return to camp.”
The wiry man’s hand grasped her arm. “No! Not yet.” The man’s eyes were again pleading and desperate. “You have to meet him. He said he would not take me as apprentice unless I brought you here to meet him.”
That, thought Alaria, was it. Something was definitely not right here. She tried to pull her arm free of the blue-robed mage but his grip was firm. “Devrim, unhand me!”
“Ah, Magess Alaria, so good of you to come.” The voice came behind them from the woods.
Alaria’s heart leapt into her throat at the start. She whirled around fully expecting to see a bearded man in cascading black robes with a dragon skull atop his head. She exhaled audibly to see a slight man, no taller than she or Devrim, in simple peasant garb beneath a hooded cloak of coarsely woven grey wool. Was he one of Kudjik's drivers? He had a large pointed nose and a thin pointed moustache rested on his thin upper lip.
Alaria relaxed her arm and Devrim removed his hand. He smiled kindly at the man and then Alaria. “You see? Alaria, this is my new mentor. He’s my friend.”
“Yes, I see.” Alaria smiled nervously. She whispered, “Arkanivis.” She turned her magical sight to Devrim. Sure enough, the wiry man was surrounded by a thin pale yellow aura.
“This man is not your friend, Devrim. Come with me. This is not right.” Alaria said forcefully.
The young mage just looked at her with a confused grin. He practically chuckled. “Of course he is my friend, Alaria. He’s going to teach me real magic like you have.”
“Indeed I am, Devrim. You’ve done very well.” The man replied as he reached into his belt. “And, my dear, I hope you will also call me…” he withdrew a slender length of dark wood.
“…friend.” In a single motion the wand was pointed at Alaria and she heard, “M’rahk!”
Alaria’s vision seemed to cloud for a moment into a soft yellow blur before coming back into focus. The plainly dressed man smiled at her and she thought…for a moment…he did seem rather nice…
Then Alaria didn’t have time to know what she thought as a thickly fingered gloved hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her roughly away from the woods.
She blinked and saw Duor pulling her back into the field. “That’ll be enough o’ that, I think. Run!”
Alaria heard the words but her mind didn’t seem to want to tell her legs what to do. Should she leave? But Devrim…this ‘friend’ with the wand…
The dwarf tugged harder. He put his other hand to his mouth and let out a shrill high whistle with his thumb and forefinger.
Then, all at once, she felt herself again. Devrim!
As she thought it, the man with the wand called also “Devrim, stop them! We must all be friends here.”
Devrim nodded in complete agreement. “I’m sorry Alaria, but you’ll see he is a very good friend.” He reached into one of his many belt pouches and flung a handful of pink sand in the direction of the magess and dwarf.
Now Alaria was running with Duor. They were still quite far from camp. She could plainly hear Devrim begin casting and she knew the spell well.
“Contro es amberall buul…”
Alaria faltered and fell into the tall grass. She was so tired from the combat with the trolls. So tired from the days travel and the night was more than half gone. She was so tired.
Duor thumped into the grass beside her, snoring loudly.
Alaria again mustered her mind to herself. Devrim had cast a spell on them. This strange man was controlling him somehow. Duor was incapacitated. What was that clanking sound? She did not know where the others were. Someone was shouting. “No!” she commanded herself from hands and knees on the ground. She clutched handfuls of grass. She would not sleep!
She shook her head to clear it and looked up to see Coerraine racing passed she and Duor. Haelan was close behind charging along awkwardly with shield on one arm and her staff (much to large for the halfling to easily carry) tucked under his other arm.
“Are you ok?!” Haelan asked hastily. “What’s going on?”
“I am fine.” Alaria said curtly. “Rouse Duor.” She said as she took her staff and rose from the ground. “But Devrim…” Devrim! Coerraine! Alaria whirled about to call after the paladin. “Coerraine, don’t harm Devrim he is under a magic charm!”
Whether the Redstar Knight heard her or not she could not say as the armored man did not falter in his charge for the two small men near the trees’ edge.
Coerraine had heard her and did not alter his course as the other man holding the wand was obviously, to the paladin’s mind, to blame for this attack. His eyes glowed golden light and he saw, quite plainly the tainted aura of evil surrounding the wand-man.
“Huh? Wuh…?” Duor murmured confused as Haelan shook him vigorously. “Yeh idiot hairfoot! Can’t a dwarf get an honest night’s…” Duor sat up and pushed the halfling away to gaze at the soon to be met battle at the treeline.
“…Oh right. Look’s like it’s a party then.” He said and leapt to his feet, drawing his hand crossbow and took off after the paladin.
“You’re welcome.” Haelan called after the dwarf.
He drew his pinecone headed mace and took a position in front of the wizardess from R’Hath.
“I’m hope this does not go badly, Alaria. I am not sure Faerantha will hear my prayer but we need more light here…Yaix ar Yomarus, benfica Faerantha urmu”.” <cleric spell: Light. “Light the darkness, beneficent mother, Faerantha”>
As the Hilltender’s invocation finished, sparkles of what appeared to be starlight brought the area along copse’s edge into passable vision despite the cloud cover.
Alaria nodded. “That was well done, Haelan. I, too, am all but spent from the day. Let us hope the gods are kind to us in the coming moments.”
Braddok now raced passed them. The swordsman had removed his chainmail shirt in an attempt for a more restful sleep, but had taken up his shield. His blade, of course, was already drawn. He looked at Alaria with concern, barely stopping to receive an assured glance and nod that she was alright.
The man with the wand had fear plainly on his face as Coerraine approached. He practically hissed as he shouted, “Protect your master, Devrim!”
“But…but that’s a Redstar Knight.” The mage said in confusion. “Good paladin, this is all a mistake. He is my friend. We mean no harm.”
Coerraine pushed passed the mage from Welford without breaking stride. “Apologies friend. But you are not yourself. Stay down.”
Devrim flew roughly to the ground. He glanced up in alarm as the paladin’s spear shot forward to narrowly miss his ‘friend.’ He continued to look on, his mind racing for anything he might do to help his new master.
“I’d listen to him, boy.” Said the dwarf as he came up and stood over the mage.
Devrim had never had a crossbow pointed at his face before. But he was not inclined to disagree with it. He made feeble attempts to make the dwarf understand. “Don’t let him hurt my friend. He’s my master now. He’s going to teach me magic. He doesn’t mean any harm.”
“Sure he doesn’t. Just do me a favor and stay down for now.” Duor replied.
The man with the wand squealed in agony as Coerraine’s next strike sank into his upper arm. The man whirled around and hunched over. The squealing continued as his figure shuddered and his back arched unnaturally.
“Face me, villain!” Coerraine shouted. “I will not stab a creature in the back.” Righteous fury flared in the paladin’s soul. He would like nothing more than to skewer the man where he stood. But that was the way of cowards and thieves, not a Redstar Knight.
When the man turned again to face the paladin, Coerraine took a step back in surprise. The man’s face, no, his whole head was that of a dirty brown rat. With pointed teeth and red beady eyes the man-rat-thing hissed at Coerraine before putting his wand practically on Coerraine’s face and shouting “M’rahk!”
Coerraine’s vision was blurred with a hazy yellow light for the briefest of moments. When it cleared, he saw the man with the thin moustache smiling at him. His friend. Coerraine could not, for his life, remember why he had wanted to harm him.
“My friend. I am so sorry! By the Red Star, I do not what came over me. Please forgive me.” The paladin said.
“Oh boy.” Duor grumbled. He turned to look as menacing as he could at Devrim, “Stay here!”
“My dear Goldshield. Thank the gods! You must help me. Defend me from these murderous bandits who would do me harm.” The 'man' said.
Coerraine whirled around, his duty filling him with clarity. It was his honor, his life’s calling to defend the weak…and his friends doubly so. He saw Duor coming toward them. “You!” Coerraine growled.
Duor had only a moment to dodge the spear tip. He tumbled to the right and recovered to his feet.
“Easy there, Goldilocks. It’s me. Yer pal, pally.”
He dove again as the spear again jabbed in his direction, sinking effortlessly into the ground. “Blasted mages.” He grumbled. “Yer under a spell, Coerraine. Snap outtuv it!”
“You thief! You’re probably a murderer too.” Coerraine seethed as he attacked again and again, unrelenting.
“Coerraine, NO! It’s the were-rat!” Alaria called. She knew the power of a charming spell was not easily broken, especially after one had sucumbed to its effect. The hold of a charm from a wand or other item would no doubt be even harder to break. Alaria raced for the melee even as Braddok adjusted his own charge from the were-rat to try to intercept the paladin from reaching Duor.
Were-rat? Coerraine wondered to himself. There is no were-rat here…only my friend. But Alaria is my charge also, she would not lie to me. What was she talking about? But, of course, she would defend the dwarf. Afterall, she got him out of jail instead of letting him be served his justice. Murderous thieving dwarf.
Coerraine struck again.
This time Duor could not avoid the blow. The spear sank deeply into his shoulder, all but pinning him to the ground. The dwarf cried out in pain and returned the paladin’s strike with a crossbow bolt into Ceorraine’s thigh.
“Coerraine NO!” Alaria cried.
“Coerraine, HOLD!” Braddok’s voice came to his mind. The swordsman was almost upon them.
The paladin’s anger did not subside. Coerraine withdrew his spear and the dwarf sank to the ground. Blood readily poured from the wound.
This slovenly lying vermin she’d rescued from the gutter. What did she see in him? She was, no doubt, under the influence of his filthy lies.
The paladin raised his spear for the final blow. He could see plainly. The dwarf would not evade his justice this time.
“It’s the were-rat…” Duor said weakly.
There was no were-rat, Coerraine knew. He knew!
“A liar and thief to the end, is it then? Have you no honor? You steal from us. You terrorize my friend. And still she would protect you! I’ll tear your beard from your face. You deserve to rot in the fires of…”
***KLLLLANNNNNNGGGGG***
Coerraine faltered from a hard blow to his head. His spear fell harmlessly into the ground beside Duor. He held the back of his neck where the blow had struck. His mind swirled and his vision doubled for a moment.
Dimly, in the back of his mind he heard Haelan’s small voice from afar “Soooorrrrry, Coerraaaaaine.”
The small round shield flew back to Haelan’s waiting hand. The Hilltender raced toward the treeline as fast as his little legs would let him.
“Haelan? What?” Coerraine said weakly. He looked, but his vision was still a bit blurry. Why was Duor slumped on the ground…and bleeding profusely? His mind felt like five pounds of lead.
He saw Braddok give him a grimacing nod before turning to charge….a…a man with a rat’s head? Alaria raced up to Duor side and crouched down. She hastily began using the dwarf’s own cloak to attempt to staunch the bleeding. That frail looking wizard from Welford was rising from the ground, his back against a tree. Horror plain all over his face.
The dwarf moaned and winced.
The Redstar Knight’s mind cleared in an instant…the were-rat! The wand! Holy Celradorn, what had he done?!
Braddok made a telling blow on the creature holding a wand.
It swiped with its free clawed hand, under Braddok’s shield, and ripped into Braddok’s abdomen.
The swordsman barely felt the scratch and knocked the were-rat from his feet with his shield.
“Bonespit! Defend me!” cried the creature.
As Braddok raised his sword for a final blow on the were-rat the wood shuddered and cracked as a troll smashed through the undergrowth into the starlit area. The swordsman nearly fell back over himself to avoid a swipe of black claws.
Alaria was desperately trying to get Duor to his feet and back away from the fray. As she did so, she noted the area of charred blackened skin along the troll’s arm. The sixth troll! The one Fen had burned at the start of battle. Where was Fen?...or that bloody gnome…or his weasel, for that matter?
As if to answer Alaria’s thoughts, the “calvary” arrived…such as it was. Fen appeared seemingly from the very trees, as usual, and helped her get Duor to his feet. With his help, they began half-dragging the dwarf back toward camp.
“Gettim, BC!” came the gnome’s voice from behind the druid.
The giant ferret, Buttercreamshadowfeet, burst from the undergrowth making a beeline for the wounded were-rat.
“Eeeee!” squealed the rat-man as the ferret’s jaws clamped onto his forearm. The frightened creature still had the wherewithal to give orders, “Bonespit, Devrim, get the magess! Bring me the orb!”
Coerraine recovered his spear and moved to stand with Braddok. The warriors’ concern was now clear, cover Alaria’s retreat with the wounded rogue. The paladin put his mind to the duty at hand. Apologies and penance for his transgression against the dwarf would have to wait.
The troll, apparently named Bonespit, easily barreled passed the two warriors with a few swipes of its huge clawed hands.
Suddenly, Gnobert leapt up from the grasses between the troll and retreating party members.
“Ah ah ah, Ugly. Theer’s far eenoo fer now.” The gnome began throwing his hands up, as if tossing confetti and called out, "Shahiir imber yexi” <mage/illusionist spell (and inate gnome ability): Dancing Lights>
Sparks of brightly colored light, like fireworks, shot up from his hands to began snapping, popping and crackling before the troll’s field of vision.
The nocturnal savage roared and began swatting at the painfully bright lights.
Gnobert giggled and waved his hands about. He skipped and danced among the tall grass around the huge monster. (Could he really be enjoying this? Alaria wondered.) The bursts of colored light continued to weave and bob about the monster’s head as it futilely attempted to free itself from the frightful luminance.
“Can you take him?” Alaria asked Fen. The druid nodded in reply. “Get him back to camp and rouse Kudjik. Get the people out of here.” The wizardess from R’Hath let the dwarf go and it seemed, for a moment, the half-elf might drop him. But he held on and continued toward the camp. Alaria gripped her staff defensively and stayed her ground, preparing herself to expend the last of her power.
She knew it would be the last she could muster and, in all honesty, feared what good it might do. Perhaps something from her scrolls? There wasn't time. ‘Real magic’, indeed, she thought as Devrim’s words echoed in her head. It had been only moments earlier that seemed a lifetime ago.
Braddok hacked and slashed at the hulking mottled green hide of the creature’s back. Coerraine jabbed and stabbed at its front, futilely trying to get its attention off of Alaria. "Face me, creature! Face your defeat!".
The whizzing and popping colored lights soon flickered and dimmed to nothingness and, Alaria noted, the gnome was again nowhere to be seen.
As before, the wounds inflicted by the fighter and paladin seemed to shrink and close even before they could make another blow.
Without the frightful lights, the troll again bowled through the warriors’ defense and continued with some speed to where Alaria stood, waiting and defiant in the midst of the field.
Thankfully, the clouds continued their journey to the south and west, blissfully ignorant of the life and death situation going on beneath them. The field was again aglow with Arinane’s sliver of white light.
Alaria centered her mind and could feel what power she had left bending to her will. Another breeze swirled around her, fluttering her hair and shirts, as she felt the air charge with power.
With a raging roar, the troll was upon her.
“Beriz theran” <mage spell: Shield> she cried into the night with her taught outstretched free hand. A circle of solid hazy blue light formed in front of her hand just in time to meet the troll’s downward strike.
The monster’s blow pushed Alaria back two steps. But the shield held.
It turned to take a swipe at Braddok who had landed a solid blow to the back of its thigh.
Braddok went flying. Shield and sword and swordsman landed with thuds and clangs, scattered among the tall grass.
A stabbing spear missed the creature as Bonespit hurled a fist upon the circular field of blue light.
The blow knocked Alaria to her knees. The force of the attack pounded in her mind but she held onto the manifestation. The magess’ eyes grew wide as she noted “cracks” in the blue light. She knew she would not be able to maintain the shield through another attack like that.
Alaria was also suddenly very aware that they had no fire! Without fire the creature would not, could not, be defeated. This would all be for naught and she and her companions would be troll food. At least, Alaria thought, Duor and Fen might get away.
Coerraine desperately stabbed again as he called to Celradorn to protect his honorable servants from the evil upon them. Much to his momentary relief, a circle of golden light arose surrounding himself and encompassing Alaria’s position. The Redstar Knights strike was true, but the creature seemed hardly more wounded than when they’d begun.
With an overhead swing, the troll’s two fists came down upon the circular shield of blue light. Alaria’s mind didn’t stand a chance and the shield of light shattered into a thousand shards as the magess, herself, was thrown several feet back, rolling heavily along the ground.
Her mind felt like yesterday’s porridge. She was so tired. So weak. The puffball of blue light Devrim had conjured, that any first-year apprentii could call with a whim, was beyond her. She gripped her staff, her only remaining weapon, and tried to rouse herself but her body was simply spent. Then she heard…Haelan? His voice small and far away.
“Hey! Bonespit! Back off the nice lady! We’re all friends here.” Devrim called from the treeline.
Instantly, the troll stopped and turned to face the trees.
The Hilltender stood, with Devrim, beneath the star-glittered area at the tree’s edge. He held the wand.
“Now be a nice troll to our friends and go back to the…what was it?” the halfling cleric said to the Welford mage at his side. Devrim answered inaudibly. “Go back to the Feldmere…and don’t trouble any other travelers on the road ever again.”
Bonespit’s shoulder’s slumped. He groaned an acknowledgement and began trudging back down the hill slope to the south.
Coerraine stood dumbstruck. Magic, he thought. By the Golden Defender, he would never understand magic. He thought, for a moment, that it was his duty to smite to evil beast. Then, Coerraine thought of Duor. He had done enough damage this night.
A groan came from the grass as Braddok roused himself, hand at his head. He looked in confusion at the back of the troll, tromping off into the night. Then to Alaria and followed her gaze back to the copse.
Alaria grinned an exhausted grin at Haelan. The daelvar priest’s face was alight with his bright smile.
“Couldn’ta done it without him.” Haelan nodded to his left and a satisfied looking Devrim.
“Or her.” The Hilltender moved aside to reveal a very proud Buttercreamshadowfeet, perched upon a body, casually chomping on a dismemebered arm.
Gnobert was beside the ferret, smiling as brightly as the halfling and rubbing the ferret behind her ear.
Alaria forced herself to get up and brushed off her robe as Fen and Kudjik’s guardsmen came racing into the field to assist the battered companions.
“It’s over.” She said weakly to the concerned druid. Then, more to herself than anyone else, “Manat's star, I need to sleep.”