Forgotten Lore (Updated M-W-F)

Chapter 219

Quellan felt an unexplained nervous energy that made it difficult for him to focus his thoughts. After his meeting at the Rectory he had intended to spend a few hours at the Great Library, but instead found himself walking alone in the gardens that extended along the rear wall of the temple complex. After that he took his time making his way back to the inn, but the intense looks he drew from the city folk had him eager for the solitude of his room. He entered through the side door, preferring to avoid the bustle of the common room, but as he turned toward the stairs leading up to the guest rooms he heard a familiar voice that drew him back around. His dark mood evaporated, and he had a big smile on his face as he made his way into the common room.

“Kosk! I didn’t know you were back.”

The dwarf clasped his arm tightly. “Heard we were a little late, but we made it eventually, and with the widget.”

“Kosk was just telling us about his adventures in Tal Nadesh,” Xeeta said. “It sounds like they had an even tougher time of it than we did.”

“You always did have a nose for finding trouble,” Quellan said. “Where’s Glori?”

“She went looking for you, actually,” Bredan said. “I told her it was a fool’s errand, given how big the Temple here is, but she insisted.”

“Pull up a chair,” Xeeta suggested. “She’ll find her way back here eventually.”

“No, I’d better go find her,” Quellan said. “But I want to hear that story later.” He clapped Kosk on the shoulder and turned around, missing the knowing smiles his companions shared behind his back.

He left the way he’d come in, but he barely made it through the door before he almost collided with Glori.

“Quellan!”

“Glori!”

He embraced her in a hug. She laughed as he lifted her off her feet. “I looked all over for you,” she said, swatting his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I missed you.”

“Yes, well, apparently Javerin had a spell that allowed her to keep in touch with her friends in the Apernium. She told them we were coming back today, but apparently they didn’t share that information with you guys. Bredan said he heard about it only by accident, so he was there when we arrived.”

“I’m just glad to see you okay,” he said. “The others are inside.”

She nodded, but instead of heading into the inn she sat down on a bench next to the door. He joined her there, careful of the wood as he settled onto it.

“I’m a little cross with you,” she said. “Javerin told me that clerics can also cast that long-distance-messenging spell as well.”

“Sending,” Quellan said.

“And you can cast this spell?”

He nodded.

“So we didn’t need to rely on the wizards to keep in touch,” Glori said. “I wouldn’t have had to worry about you as much.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I couldn’t.”

“I understand,” she said. “The spell couldn’t penetrate the Reserve. Bredan told me that the wizards were all freaking out when they lost contact with Javerin and couldn’t reach any of us. I suppose it was the same in Underhold for you. Bredan said they had all sorts of magical wards and…”

“No, Glori,” he said. “I couldn’t.” He looked down at his feet as he spoke. “If something had happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to function. I just had to believe that you were all right. Bredan and Xeeta needed me. I know it’s selfish. I just… couldn’t.”

“Oh,” she said.

“We should go back in,” he said, rising suddenly. “The others will want to talk to you…”

She stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the door. “Glori…”

She interrupted him by stepping up into him. Her head came up, her lips meeting his. He enfolded her with his arms, once more pulling her off her feet, but careful not to crush her with his strength.

Chapter 220

Rays of bright morning sunshine slanted down through the narrow windows as Bredan, Kosk, and Xeeta walked down the long entry hall of the Apernium. They knew where they were going and did not have an escort. They were honored guests now, though they still had to leave all of their weapons at the entry whenever they visited. That was no real inconvenience, Bredan thought. The three of them were hardly less dangerous when disarmed.

He had to remind himself that they were not looking for trouble that day. The wizards had been more forthcoming with information of late, but Bredan would not have bet a copper coin against them keeping more secrets from them. The Apernium was like that, keeping secrets seemed to come as a matter of course in this place.

They turned into a side corridor that led to the first-floor meeting rooms they had visited previously. They were nearly at the chamber that the messenger had identified when the door opened and some familiar faces stepped into view.

“Ah, good,” Bredan said. “Kosk, there are two people here I’d like you to meet…”

He trailed off when he realized that the monk had come to an abrupt stop. Darik and Dergan had paused with odd looks on their faces. Behind them, Konstantin stepped out into the hallway. He started to nod in greeting but stopped as he sensed the sudden change in mood.

“Kosk, what’s wrong?” Bredan asked.

The monk did not respond, but the other two dwarves suddenly stepped forward. The looks on their faces almost had Bredan summoning his sword, before he remembered where they were. He obviously wasn’t the only one, as Darik reached for his hip before realizing that he didn’t have his weapons on his person.

Bredan stepped forward to block them from Kosk. “Now what is going on—” he began.

“The Bloody Fist!” Darik said, jabbing a thick finger at Kosk. “You can shave your beard, but I’ll never in my life forget that face!”

“I don’t know who you think this is,” Xeeta said. “But he’s Kosk Stonefist, a monk of the Open Fist.”

“That’s his name, but he’s the Bloody Fist, all right,” Darik said.

“This man is a wanted criminal,” Dergan said. “A death sentence hangs over his head in Ironcrest.”

Bredan glanced back at Kosk, who had the look of a man who’d just been stabbed in the gut. “Kosk…”

“Let’s all remain calm,” Konstantin said.

“This man is a bandit and a murderer,” Darik said. “If you shelter him, then you’re little better than accomplices to his crimes.”

“You must be wrong,” Xeeta said. “How do you know this is the same man? Kosk has been living in Arresh for years, and he’s fought with us many times. He saved my life, many times.”

“How can I know?” Darik asked. “He killed my uncle. As for how I know it’s him, an eyewitness escaped his murderous grasp. He was an artist, and he created a perfect rendition of the man who led the bloody-handed bastards who slaughtered the men of his caravan. I studied that image until I knew his face as well as my own father’s. And that’s the face staring right back at me now!”

Bredan looked again at his friend. “Kosk?”

The dwarf let out a sigh. “It’s true,” he said. “It’s all true. I was a bandit, a thief, and a killer. Everything he said is true. All of it.”

WHAAAAAAAT?

Chapter 221

“Let’s just stay calm,” Konstantin said.

The wizard was alone with Bredan and Xeeta in one of the small meeting rooms. The dwarves had almost had to be physically separated by the Apernium guards, who had been drawn either by Darik’s shouting or by some subtle alert from the wizard. The two emissaries had allowed themselves to be escorted to a waiting area, though not before Darik had threatened to appeal to King Dangren and Dergan had formally requested that Kosk be turned over to them. Kosk in turn had simply submitted and had been taken into custody pending a review.

“Calm?” Bredan asked. There wasn’t much space to move about in the room, but the warrior was pacing back and forth angrily. “Those men accused my friend of being a killer.”

“An accusation that he did not deny,” Konstantin said.

“He’s a hero,” Xeeta said. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. Glori said that they never would have gotten the key and saved Javerin if he hadn’t been there, and in the Silverpeak…”

“I am not taking a position,” Konstantin said. “I do not know all of the facts, nor do you.”

“You can’t just turn him over,” Bredan said.

“There is no treaty of extradition between Arresh and Ironcrest,” Konstantin said. “Nor has Kosk committed any crimes in the kingdom, as far as I am aware. Yes, yes,” he added as Xeeta opened her mouth to speak. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“So why are you holding him, then?” Bredan asked. “You should let him go, and keep the Ironcrest dwarves away from him.”

The wizard sighed. “It is not so simple. We cannot afford to offend Ironcrest right now.”

“Why not?” Xeeta asked. “You have the key.”

“You yourself have stated that we face a greater threat, a common threat,” Konstantin said to Bredan. “Would you have us throw away a possible alliance against that threat for one man?”

Bredan stopped pacing, but before he could answer the door burst open and Glori and Quellan came in, escorted by Javerin. “What’s going on?” Glori asked. “We heard that Kosk has been arrested.”

“At the moment he is just being held for questioning,” Konstantin said.

“Did you know about this?” Bredan asked Quellan. “That Kosk had been a bandit.”

Glori stepped over to the cleric in a gesture of support. Quellan looked troubled. “I knew that he had a past,” he said. “That sort of thing… it was not uncommon, at the monastery. Not everyone seeks to become a priest or a monk as a vocational calling.”

“The Ironcrest dwarves are saying that he was a murderer,” Xeeta said. “A bandit.”

“We have all killed,” Quellan said. “I have known Kosk for a long time. I know that he was escaping something, a past life that left him deeply troubled. I can believe that he was a bandit. But to call him a murderer implies a certain cold-blooded viciousness, a lack of concern for life. That is not the Kosk Stonefist that I know.”

“The civil authorities do not have any jurisdiction in this case, unless he can be proven to have committed crimes in Arresh,” Javerin said.

“Konstantin was just telling us that,” Xeeta said. “But he was also telling us about the… politics of the situation.”

“We won’t stand by while Kosk is handed over to Ironcrest,” Glori said.

“Let’s hope it does not come to that,” Konstantin said. “But for now, Kosk can no longer be a part of the visit to the Vault of the Book tomorrow. It would be needlessly provocative toward the Ironcrest delegation.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to offend them,” Bredan said.

“Bredan, they have a point,” Quellan said. “Imagine if the roles were reversed, and you had lost someone close to a man you knew only as a bandit and killer.”

“We have good relations with Abbot Anaeus at the Monastery of the Quiet Path,” Javerin said. “It might be a good idea if Master Stonefist were to go upon a contemplative retreat for the near future.”

“After what he went through to get the key, he deserves to be there at the end,” Glori said.

“I understand,” Javerin said. “But it is what it is.”

“I can see it, the logic of it,” Bredan said. “But understand this. If anything happens to Kosk, if you do anything to him without consulting us… there will be trouble.”

Javerin bristled at the implied threat, but Konstantin just nodded. “I will pass that on,” he said.

Chapter 222

The wind blew hard over the exposed jut of stone. It swept over the edge where a drop of several hundred feet plummeted down to the treetops in the valley below. The sky was a vast blue expanse empty of everything save for the occasional solitary bird circling high above.

The figure seated on the edge of the jut did not notice the birds or the breeze or the sharp drop. He sat alone, deep within his own thoughts.

Embrae emerged from a small door in the high wall that circled the monastery and walked out to where the solitary figure meditated. The breeze tugged at her loose robe, but she showed no fear of the crumbling edge just a pace from where she walked. She passed along the narrow trail to the outcrop, then hopped up onto it and slowly advanced to the waiting figure.

“I missed you in town yesterday,” she said.

The other said nothing.

“I spoke with Glori,” she said. “I’m sorry, Kosk. If you wish to remain alone I will respect your wishes, but there are times when it helps to talk.”

“There is nothing to be done for it,” he said. “I made my own fate.”

“We all change,” Embrae said. “Even elves, though there are many among my kind who would deny the charge.”

“One cannot change the past.”

“No. But one can change the future. It seems to me like you’ve done a pretty good job of that. That person those dwarves are looking for… that isn’t you, Kosk.”

“It was,” Kosk said. “I was a vicious bastard, Embrae.”

“You tried to atone,” Embrae said. “Nobody is ever so far gone that they cannot change who they are.”

Kosk shook his head. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve forgiveness. I killed people, people who had done nothing to deserve the fate I visited upon them.”

“Expunging your life won’t do anything to help them,” Embrae said.

“You don’t have to make those arguments to me,” Kosk said. “I’ve made them all to myself, every possible variation, a hundred times.”

“You’re going to turn yourself over to them.”

Kosk didn’t say anything, and after a few moments Embrae continued, “What good will that do?”

“It may help some of those I have wronged to move on.”

“I don’t know. It sort of sounds like the coward’s path.”

At that some of his calm cracked, and an angry look briefly crossed his features. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“It’s true, I have not known you for very long,” she said. “But what of those who have? They care about you, Kosk.”

“They’ll get by all right.”

“Maybe they will. But it will hurt them. They won’t understand either, why you’ll just give up without a fight. From what I hear, people who know you are lining up to offer testimony in your defense.”

“I didn’t ask them to.”

“You didn’t have to, Kosk. That’s what friendship is. I suggest you think about that, because I have a feeling that we’re coming up on dangerous times ahead. What we encountered in the forest, that wasn’t the end of it, you know that as well as I do. And we’re going to need each other’s help to face it, whatever it is.”

She paused, letting the calm beauty of the day just exist between them. Finally she said, “I am going back to my people, back to Tal Nadesh.”

At that he finally did look over at her. “What made you change your mind?”

“It was something a friend told me recently,” she said. “That I might do a good job helping to rebuild the Tenders. And he taught me a lesson about confronting one’s own past, rather than letting it define you.”

He didn’t respond. The elf woman turned and went back the way she had come, her angry strides crunching on the loose stones of the path far more than her quiet approach had, punctuated by the slamming of the door set into the wall.

Kosk remained alone with his thoughts as the day began to fade.

Today: the last post of Book 8 of the story.

* * *

Chapter 223

The doors to the Vault swung ponderously open. After seeing the massive works at Ironcrest they seemed less impressive to Bredan, but it was still enough of a mass of stone being moved to give him pause. A thought flitted into his mind of being trapped behind those doors, unable to escape while the air slowly grew stale.

He pushed that thought roughly aside as he joined the entourage that filtered into the now-open outer chamber. In addition to Konstantin, Javerin, and several other wizards, the group included Bredan and his companions—save one—and the representatives of both the dwarves of Ironcrest and the elves of Tal Nadesh. The pair of dwarves chose to stand on the far side of the room from Bredan and his friends. Glori had introduced the elvish delegate, a man named Lendelaine. He looked distracted as he stood off to the side, scanning the interior of the Vault chamber.

As before, there wasn’t much to see. The broken tablet of the Revelation Stone still stood atop its platform, facing into the room. The broad wall facing the entry was still as blank and featureless as it had ever been, but as on that last visit Bredan could feel something, a faint stirring of power. Looking again at the elf, he wondered if he felt it as well.

One final figure came into the room, and remained standing at the back. Bredan recognized him as the figure who had stood high up in the back of the room at their first meeting with the Circle. The King’s representative, then, though as before he seemed content merely to observe.

“Let us proceed,” Javerin said. Three of the junior wizards came forward, each carrying a small sealed box. The dwarvish and elvish delegates did not move, but Bredan could sense the sudden increase in intensity. They all had it, staring as the wizards carried their containers to the edge of the platform that held the Revelation Stone. Javerin waited until they had all put down the boxes and withdrew before she opened each of them. She didn’t use a key, just ran a finger along the outer edge of the lid, but they each popped open as if she’d worked a mechanism.

“Ut vresh al turam nosk, she said. “Shre solvas tendrai les sora tal. Five centuries ago, our three races chose to seal the Elderlore Libram away from those who would misuse its power. But now the three kingdoms have again come together to break the seals and access the ancient power of the Book.”

One by one she lifted each of the pieces of the shattered key from the open boxes. The final piece, the one held by the Apernium, was made of a black metal, its edges sharp and menacing. She tried to fit it to the silver key, and then the gold one, but it was not clear how the fragments meshed. She tried again, trying different combinations and approaches until her brow furrowed in consternation.

The gathered notables began to look concerned.

“Bredan.”

Konstantin’s voice jolted Bredan back to full awareness. He looked around and realized that he’d taken a few steps forward without realizing it. At the wizard’s gesture, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, we walked the rest of the way over to the pedestal.

For a long moment Javerin just looked at him in obvious disapproval. When he did not recoil before her intensity, however, she handed the pieces of the key to him.

They were all complex, like the pieces of a puzzle. His uncle had owned something like that, a toy fashioned of metal, designed so that it only came together when the pieces were juxtaposed in a specific manner. But it wasn’t his skill as a smith that had him sliding the three pieces together. It was some kind of instinct. He just knew how they would fit together. And they did, the three pieces of the key blending together until it was just one hefty piece of metal resting in his hands.

“Now all we need is a lock,” he heard Xeeta say.

But Bredan was already turning toward the far wall of the chamber. Javerin started to interrupt him, but desisted at a gesture from Konstantin. Bredan approached the wall, the others falling in behind him. Again it was instinct that guided him rather than any specific knowledge. As he got closer to the wall the key began to feel warm in his hands. He lifted it, almost as he would have lifted his sword. The wall responded, a shimmer forming within the stone. As he brought the key forward the distortion swelled until it formed a disk a full five feet across. Bredan touched the key to that spot. The shimmer instantly became an opening, one that led into a chamber directly ahead. He could see clearly into it, as if the breach had been a true door in the stone wall. But he somehow knew that the space he was seeing was not truly located on the other side of that barrier, but was somewhere else entirely.

“How does it work?” Xeeta asked. “Does he have to go first, or should he go last…”

Bredan turned at her words, and the looks on the faces of the others—human wizards, dwarves, and elves alike—told him that none of them knew the answer. “We can all go,” he said, though he wasn’t certain that he was right.

The others followed him through the portal into the chamber beyond. It was a considerable space, the walls, ceiling and floor all made up of a pale bluish stone. Half-spheres that formed a ring around the peaked ceiling filled the room with a gentle, diffuse light. There were no other exits visible.

The center of the room was dominated by a stone pedestal similar to the one that supported the Revelation Stone, except more than twice its size. There was a wooden frame set in the center of the pedestal that had obviously been designed to support an object. Yet there was nothing there.

“Where is it?” Dergan asked. “Where is the book?”

The others spread out, searching every nook and cranny in the room. But it was obvious from one look that there were no places where something could be hidden. Even so, the wizards and their guests both examined the pedestal, looking behind it and tapping it for secret doors or hidden compartments. Bredan was barely aware of their efforts. He just kept staring up at the sloping walls that slanted up to join at the apex twenty feet above the empty pedestal.

Glori was the first to notice. “Bredan? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Something in her voice drew the attention of the others, until they were all looking at him. “Bredan?” Quellan asked. He came over and gently laid his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “What do you see?”

The others glanced up at the spot where Bredan’s gaze was fixed, but all they could see was bare stone. “Bredan?” Glori asked. “We should get him out of here…”

“It’s a message,” Bredan said suddenly. “It says that the Book has returned to where it was first found by modern men, centuries ago.” His eyes came down and met Glori’s, and she shuddered at the intensity that she saw there. “It says that it waits for us there.”

Book 9: CITY OF MYSTERY

Chapter 224

The Warren was a tangled network of twisting alleys and close-packed, sagging buildings that filled a narrow wedge of space between the northern edge of the Shield District and Severon’s Old Wall. The last light of the day was fading as a solitary figure, draped in a concealing cloak, made his way deeper into that network.

The intruder did not go unnoticed. At one point, as he paused at an intersection, shadowy figures materialized at the mouth of the one of the crossing alleys. The stranger reached under his cloak and waited, and after a few moments the shadows withdrew. He continued on his way as the evening gloom descended upon the city.

He finally turned into a narrow passage that culminated in a set of worn stone steps. They descended to a heavy iron-bound door. The banding was caked with rust, but the hinges glistened with fresh oil.

The traveler rapped on the door and waited. Eventually a narrow slit slid open to reveal a pair of eyes. “Not open yet,” he said.

“I’m expected,” the traveler said.

The slot snapped shut, and after a moment the traveler could hear the sounds of heavy latches being worked. Finally, the door swung open—the treated hinges making barely a sound—to reveal a small foyer populated with wooden cubbies that filled an entire wall. A doorway framed with red curtains led into the interior, but it was blocked by the man who had opened the door, a giant who stood a head taller than the traveler. He regarded the new arrival for a moment before holding out his hand.

The traveler reached under his cloak and produced a sword in a worn leather scabbard. The big man merely turned and slid it into one of the cubbies before gesturing for the other to precede him into the next room.

The two men walked into a space that was lushly decorated, with more curtains augmented by painted tapestries and polished wooden floors. A dozen lamps of brass with glass bulbs hung from sconces along the walls and the carved wooden pillars that helped support the ceiling. Only two of them were lit, leaving the interior dim and shadowed. But there was no mistaking the purpose of the place, even empty. Neat piles of chips were laid out on the tables, along with dice cups, stacks of cards, and even the gilded spinning disc and elaborate counters used for games of dragonette. A long bar that fronted shelves containing every possible variety of liquor ran along the left side of the room.

“He’s in the back,” the big man said. The traveler knew the way. He knew The Lucky Cast all too well. That was the root of his troubles. His immediate ones, anyway.

The back door was slightly open, but the traveler knew better than to enter without knocking. He waited until the deep voice said, “Come in,” before he pushed the door fully open and went in.

The back room was as ornate as the gambling chamber, its walls paneled with rich woods and a plush carpet that looked like elvish make covering the floor. An expansive desk dominated the space. Behind it was the man that the traveler had come to see. Another man leaned against the wall near the door, cleaning his fingernails with a knife as slender as he was. The big guard had gone back to his station, leaving the traveler to close the door behind him.

“Ah, Garrett,” the man behind the desk said. He was also of thick build, more muscle than fat. His skin had a grayish cast that suggested at his part-orcish bloodline even before his mouth opened to reveal the protruding tusks within. “Do you have what I asked for?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Garrett said. “But this is the last time. After this, we’re square, you got that, Gantz?”

The half-orc smiled, a grim expression given his features. From the look in his eyes he knew only too well what effect it produced. “What makes you think you call the shots here, warrior?”

Garrett’s eyes flicked to the man with the knife, but he did not falter. “I pay my debts,” he said. “I’ve paid several times over. You can do what you want, but after this, I’m done.”

Gantz held the other man’s eyes for a long moment before he settled back in his chair. “All right, fair enough. Now tell me.”

“They left town yesterday,” Garrett said. “They were preparing for a sea journey.”

“Colverston?”

“That would be my guess.”

“They say where they were going after that?”

“No. But I overheard the half-elf asking the other woman if she was uncomfortable about returning to her homeland. They didn’t say where that was.”

Gantz nodded. “Good. That’s good. You’ve done well, Garrett.”

“What did these people do to you, you rogue?”

“That is none of your concern. A deal’s a deal, and we’re square, as you said. I would suggest that you do your gambling somewhere else in the future.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t ever see me again.”

Garrett turned back to the door. He met the eyes of the thin man with the knife for a moment, then opened the door and left. The knife-wielder prodded the door shut with his boot before turning back to Gantz.

“Make it look like a simple mugging gone bad,” the half-orc said. “Make sure he’s found far away from here.”

The thin man nodded and departed.

Gantz waited another minute, then rose. He went to one of the wall panels and pressed a hidden catch along its edge. The panel swung out, revealing a hidden space beyond. The half-orc reached in and first took out a leather harness that supported no fewer than four daggers in black scabbards. He put that on before pulling out a heavy coat. As he pulled it on he considered the chances of his evening ending the same way that Garrett’s would. That would be ironic, he thought. But it didn’t matter. Like the unlucky gambler, he had no choice.

The main room of The Lucky Cast was quiet. In a few hours it would be crowded with people, noisy with the click of dice and the whirring of the wheel, the groans of failure offset by the cheers of success. It was an intoxicating mixture, and one that Gantz enjoyed.

Pellas saw him coming and opened the door for him. “I’ll should be back by opening,” Gantz told him.

“You want I should get a couple of the boys?” the big enforcer asked.

“No.” In truth he might have appreciated some company, but their presence would have no impact on what happened when he delivered his message. He would have preferred to wait until morning, but the one who had commissioned him for this job had made it one hundred percent clear that delay was not acceptable.

Pellas merely accepted his orders without question. He stood at the door until Gantz left, then he swung it shut and latched it behind him.

I have one more post queued up for Friday, then it's a month off for NaNoWriMo.

* * *

Chapter 225

A steady breeze blew off the water as flocks of sea birds danced and darted in the air over the docks of Colverston. The wharf, which extended for almost half a mile along the edge of the bay, bustled with activity as men and horses worked to load and unload the score of ships lashed to the piers of the harbor. Smaller fishing boats slid in and out between the larger craft, delivering their catch before the sun faded beyond the horizon.

Bredan sat watching the scene from a perch along the sea wall near the southern end of the wharf. It was funny, he thought. Colverston was a proper city, easily ten times the size of Crosspath even leaving aside the many travelers and traders who came and went via the busy port. But after his time in Severon and Ironcrest, it seemed small, even provincial. The tallest building in the city was the keep, but it could not rival even the humblest of the monumental structures he’d seen in the two capitals.

The world is the same, he thought. It’s me who’s changed.

“You know that we’re supposed to stay together,” a familiar voice said, drawing him out of his reverie. “None of us should be alone here, especially you.”

He looked up and smiled at Glori. It was good to be together again. All of them… though it had taken some persuading to get the wizards and the King’s men to agree to let Kosk accompany the expedition. The Ironcrest dwarves had not let up in their protests, even when the monk had agreed to turn himself over to their custody—after the mission to Weltarin was concluded.

Glori smiled back at him and took the space next to him along the sea wall, careful of the scattered spatters of bird guano on the stone.

“I thought this might be the last chance to be alone for a while,” he said.

“That’s true. Not much privacy on a ship.”

“I’ve never seen the sea before,” Bredan said.

“This is only the start of it,” Glori pointed out. “This bay here connects to the Gulf of Arresh, which is pretty tame, or so I’ve been told. The Blue Deep is out beyond, an ocean bigger than all of Voralis put together.”

“You’ve seen a lot in your travels,” he said.

“I’ve never been here,” she admitted. “But I visited Shellas Point with Majerion, and took a few brief voyages, mostly just short hops from one coastal city to another.”

“I heard that you saw him in Tal Nadesh. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess I sorted out a few things. And I got a new lyre.” She shifted to show him the instrument that rode now on her hip. It was a beautiful instrument, its body a rich golden color.

“Nice,” Bredan said. “I noticed it, of course. I didn’t want to say anything… I know how devoted you were to your old one.”

“I still have it,” she said. “This one’s magical. Actual magic, not the… Well, it can cast several powerful spells.”

Bredan knew what she’d been about to say, that Majerion had lied to her about her old lyre’s magic to help her adjust to the reality of her own budding magical powers. She’d held on to a lot of anger, both about that and her feelings of abandonment by her former mentor. Bredan knew that she’d tell him more when she was ready, so he didn’t push her on it. The days since their reunion had been busy with activity, especially after the revelations in the Vault of the Book. But they would have plenty of time to share their respective tales on the coming journey. From what he had been told, it would take weeks if not months to reach their final destination.

“That could come in handy, where we’re going,” he said.

For a moment they just watched the fading day in silence, then she said, “What do you think of Kalasien?”

“The King’s man? He seems to know his business, I guess. Why?”

“I don’t know. There’s something about him, it just makes me uneasy.”

“Well, he is a spy, of sorts. And we will need his skills and knowledge to get where we’re going. Has he said or done something that triggered your instincts?”

“No, nothing specific. We’d encountered him once before, you know. Before the Vault, I mean.”

“Yeah. That first meeting with the Circle, in the Apernium. The man in the back.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

“Why, because I looked like I was going to whip out my sword and start chopping wizards in half?”

She laughed, but it quickly turned back into a serious expression. “I’d never seen you so angry,” she said. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified, not after what happened to you. But it was… scary.”

“I know. I’ve changed, I know it. It scares me too. But this… I have to do this, Glori. Have to see it to the end. Wherever that is.”

“I know.”

A clank of metal announced the arrival of Quellan. The cleric’s heavy armor made it difficult for him to creep up on anyone undetected, but after what had happened in Underhold he tended to wear it any time he was not actually sleeping.

“The sea captain we were supposed to meet has arrived,” Quellan said. “Kalasien is meeting with him.”

“Where’s Kosk?” Glori asked.

“Meditating,” Quellan said. “I do not believe that he is looking forward to the sea journey.”

“This is only the first stage,” Glori said. “It should be easy compared to the next one.”

“I did not feel that Kosk was receptive to such reminders at the moment,” Quellan said.

“What about Xeeta?” Bredan asked. “It cannot be easy for her… the thought of returning home.”

“Arienne,” Glori said to Bredan. “You should start getting used to it now, that way you’re less likely to make a mistake when it matters.”

“You’re right,” Bredan said.

“I spoke with her on the way here,” the cleric said. “She said that she considers ‘home’ to be with us, wherever we are. She understands the need, that the only place where we can find a crew that can make the arduous journey to the Weltarin continent is in Li Syval.”

“A pity we cannot rely upon the wizards for speedy transportation this time,” Glori said.

“There are no teleportation circles in Weltarin,” Quellan said. “And from what I understand, teleportation without one, to a destination that is not well-known, can be quite hazardous.”

“It is what it is,” Bredan said. “I suppose we should get back, meet this captain.”

“He is supposed to be someone trustworthy,” Quellan said. “He’s Arreshian, a man who’s worked for the Crown in the past.”

“Yeah, I gathered he’s made this journey plenty of times in the past,” Glori said.

Bredan brushed off his leggings as he rose to his feet. “I’d still like to see for myself.”

“We’ll all go,” Glori said.

The three of them made their way back along the docks toward their inn, while around them the bustle of a busy afternoon along the wharf continued, ignorant and unconcerned with their affairs.

One final cliffhanger; see you in December.

* * *

Chapter 226

In a dismal chamber far under the streets of Li Syval, a man knelt in front of an altar of ancient stone.

The air was stale and thick with foul odors, the floor slick with muck and filth, but the man paid no attention whatsoever to his surroundings. A metal grate in the ceiling let in shattered fragments of light, just a faint glow that filtered down from somewhere above, but the man’s eyes were well-used to the near-darkness. A steady drip of water could be heard from somewhere nearby.

The man was clad in old rags that gave him a hunched and harmless appearance. The reality, however, was far from that impression.

He spoke quietly to himself as his hands traveled over the altar. Runes had been etched into the stone, so weathered that even his sensitive fingers could only barely detect them. The center of the stone had been hollowed out so that it formed a sort of font. It was currently empty, though there were old stains around the edges of the bowl that suggested at what it had once held.

The man rose slowly, the creaking of his tired muscles no affectation, and stepped around the altar to a shallow alcove in the wall behind it. The stones there had been carved to form dozens of small cubbies. The light was just barely enough to reveal that there were small objects in those niches. Most of them were gray and blended in with their surroundings, but here and there a flash of color was visible.

The old man’s eyes passed over the niches as if they were old friends. He stopped at the one he was looking for and reached into to withdraw the object. For a moment, as he held it up, the light caught it and revealed its form.

It was a tiny statuette, no more than a finger’s length in height. For something that small it was incredibly detailed. It depicted a small person, a woman. It had been painted with such intricate care that the clothes she wore looked almost like real fabric, and her hair looked almost as though it would sway in a breeze. But the weak light also revealed other features, tiny white horns that curled up from her head and skin that was too red to be human.

The old man stared at the tiny figure with rapt admiration. “My beautiful child. I’ve waited so long for you to come back to me.”

A sound from the corridor outside the room drew the old man’s attention. It was not much, just a soft scrape on stone, but he quickly turned and tucked the figure into his fist before concealing it against his body.

“Come in, my lovelies,” he said, beckoning with his other hand.

Two figures shuffled into the room. At first glance they looked as physically disparate as two beings could be. One was a huge, thick-limbed hulk, his head almost reaching the upper lintel of the doorway. That head seemed to be perched directly on his broad shoulders, his neck all but invisible under cords of muscle. For all that his tread was surprisingly soft; his steps made only the faint sounds that had alerted the old man.

The brute’s companion was his opposite in every regard. He was thinner even than the old man, his arms hanging from his body like gangly reeds. He walked hunched over, his palms touching the floor as if seeking the reassurance of the solid stone. His jaw hung at an odd angle, causing one side of his face to droop slightly.

As the two figures came toward the light—not quite entering the radius of the illuminated area—some features became visible that suggested that they were not as different as first appeared. Their skin bore a tint, a mottled gray that wasn’t entirely due to the washed-out light. Both had slightly pointed teeth and ears, and prominent, ridged brows that culminated in small black horns that stuck out from the sides of their temples.

The two watched the old man in silence. Finally, he said, “I have news, my pretties, important news. One of our lost sheep is returning to us.”

Still the pair did not react. The old man waved a hand, and an image swirled into view in front of him. It showed the same figure represented by the statuette in his hand, a woman of the same mixed heritage as the unlikely duo.

“Find her. Bring her to me, unharmed.”

“Where should we look, Master?” the smaller one asked. His deformed jaw added a slur to his words, but they were understandable.

“Keep an eye out for ships coming from the mainland,” the old man said. “Remember, do not be seen.”

The pair turned and left.

The old man watched them go, then turned and put the figurine back into its place in the alcove. Behind him, a shadow stirred in a corner of the room, where two walls met the ceiling. It dropped down and crept forward almost to the edge of the light, almost where the smaller of the two tieflings had stood. It was a spider, fat and hideous, roughly the size of a small cat. It moved with an odd gait, as it was missing one of its legs.

For a moment it just watched the old man, who was still staring at the niche in the wall. Then it spoke.

“They won’t find her,” it said. “They can barely find their own arses to scratch, that pair.”

“Don’t be harsh, Zuvox,” the old man said without turning. “The twins have given loyal service.”

“Unlike some others I might mention,” the spider said. “Whatever brings her back here, she won’t be stupid enough to reveal her true identity, or let herself be seen by the likes of them.”

“That is why I am sending you as well, my loyal servant,” the old man said.

“Even if you do get her back, it won’t be like it was before,” Zuvox said.

“I know that!” the old man said angrily, turning to face the creature. With an obvious effort he mastered himself. “She is special,” he said. “We need her. Long have I waited for one of my children to return. We cannot afford to miss this opportunity. Find her, Zuvox. Guide the twins to where she is, and help them bring her to me.”

The spider made a halting bow. “As you command.” It stepped back and shimmered, its form blurring until a moment later a large raven was there. It hopped awkwardly; in this form too, it was missing a leg. It turned around and spread its wings, launching itself into the air. Within a moment it was gone.

The old man remained in the dank chamber for a few moments longer. He raised his hand and summoned the glowing image of the woman once more.

“You will be mine again, my dear one,” he said. Then he let the image fade and strode out from the room.

Ended on a true cliffhanger. All the best on the NaNoWriMo!