The sound of a slamming door jerked Khalid from his morbid reverie. An exquisite crystal goblet, half filled with brandy, tumbled from his hand as he leapt to his feet. Only the thick carpet saved it from shattering into a thousand pieces as hit the floor with a dull thump. Glancing guiltily at Arbaq as the amber liquid poured out on the priceless rug, Khalid saw only concern on Arbaq's normally impassive face. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall and before Khalid could reach the door, it flew open and Gorak entered, followed closely by Shayla. At the sight of Khalid, relief flooded into their eyes but before they could speak, Khalid cried, “Where have you been? I extracted the location of your father from Hazal!”
Gorak's lip curled as he looked at the intricate Dwerro waterclock resting on Arbaq's desk. Nearly two hours had passed since their assault. “Did you kill him?” he growled.
“Ah, I couldn't,” Khalid stuttered, “there were too many people about. I surely, yes, surely would have been apprehended.” It was as much of the truth as Khalid was willing to admit.
Shayla's shoulders slumped in defeat, “Then he's warned the Tower. We're too late.”
“Where did you go?” Khalid demanded.
“Back to Gormo's inn. We figured it was a bust, and we were gonna try an' grab him but he never showed,” Gorak snarled. “Why didn't...” he bit off the last part of the question. Khalid had stayed well clear of Gormo, and had never been to the inn. Shaking his head, Gorak growled, “Maybe he didn't have time...” he trailed off, then cursed. “We gotta try.”*
Whirling around, Gorak strode out of Arbaq's study. Khalid and Shayla practically had to run to keep up with him as he headed to the stables. Kicking the stable boy awake, Gorak grabbed a saddle and threw it over his horse. In minutes they were riding hard through the darkened streets of Gem-Sharad. Crouched low over the necks of their mounts, they urged them to the limits of their endurance as they navigated the twisting streets of the city at breakneck speed. A few blocks away from the address Hazal had provided, they pulled up and led their horses into an alley. Hitching them to a door handle, Gorak waved Khalid and Shayla back as he muttered a spell while cautiously approaching the building. Placing his hands lightly on the wall, he crept up the side of the warehouse with unnatural grace. He paused briefly outside a second story window, prying it open and then vanishing into the darkness.
The seconds passed slowly as Khalid and Shayla waited in anxious silence. After a few minutes, Gorak came around the corner of the building. One look at Gorak's clenched jaw, told Khalid everything he need to know. Thick cords stood out on Gorak's neck, as he ground his teeth in impotent fury. Magol wasn't there. They mounted their horses and rode back to Arbaq's in silence. Tossing the reins to the bleary eyed stable boy, Gorak vanished around the side of Arbaq's mansion. Shayla, practically stumbling with exhaustion, made her way to her room.
Tired as he was, Khalid knew sleep would be a long time in coming. Shrugging off the various tools of his trade, he sat down at his desk, thinking perhaps a few hours of study would settle his uneasy mind. After a few minutes, he closed the book he was reading with a frustrated snap. Even the familiar touch of his worn and battered spellbook wasn't enough to calm Khalid's chaotic thoughts. Without really knowing why, Khalid clambered out the window into the garden, and went in search of Gorak.
Inadvertently trampling a delicate bush of pale lavender flowers, Khalid paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Picking his way through the neat, orderly rows of plants, he headed to a small semi circle of palm trees at the center of the garden. As he approached, he saw Gorak sitting motionless at the base of one of the trees, his eyes closed. Stopping at the edge of the circle, Khalid hesitated, trying to decide if Gorak was awake or asleep, and if he should disturb him.
Finally, Gorak's eyes flashed open and he growled, “Fer the love of the lost gods Khalid, either sit your arse down or go away, just don't stand there wheezing.”
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid muttered, thankful that the darkness hid his embarrassment. “I, ah, couldn't sleep,” he added, somewhat unnecessarily as he looked around for a comfortable spot. Settling at the base of a tree beside Gorak, he gathered his robes around him to ward off the night's chill. He couldn't help but marvel at Gorak's ability to ignore the demands of his surroundings, clad as he was in only a loincloth in the rapidly cooling desert air. As the silence became oppressive, Khalid finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Ah, yes, what, yes what do we do next?”
“Whadda ya think we should do next Khalid?” Gorak growled, with a bitterness that was unsurprising.
In the pale light of the half moon, Khalid could see Gorak staring intently at him. Finding no reassurance in that cold, black stare, he replied cautiously, “Ah, yes, well, you see, I'm not exactly sure. Yes, quite.”
“Well then,” Gorak snarled, “I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna get the hell outta Gem-Sharad.
Surprised, Khalid was unable to find his voice for a moment. Gorak was the last person he expected to suggest flight. “Ah, yes, that is certainly an option, yes, quite. But what about Magol?”
“How exactly are we going to find him now, Khalid?” Gorak raged, frustration twisting his rugged features. “Those two bastard will sure as hell stay clear of us now. Gormo is impossible to find, when he don't wanna be found and you can be damn sure Halaal's gonna put some real guards around him this time, even if we knew where to look.”
“Ah, yes, but...” Khalid began.
“And besides,” Gorak continued, ignoring the interruption, “Do you really think you're ready to face Halaal, now that he knows we're back in town and ready for us?” He glared furiously at Khalid.
“Ah, no, not quite.” Khalid answered truthfully, when he was certain Gorak had finished his rant. “Even without his spellbooks, he has accumulated a lifetime of artifacts and scrolls. I would not present much, yes much of a challenge.
“Indeed,” Gorak sneered sarcastically. “So tomorrow we go to Arbaq and tell him we need to get outta here. He don't have no use for us sitting around, so you can bet he's got something lined up.”
“But Gorak,” Khalid said hesitantly, “Your father...” Having spent most of his life alone, Khalid couldn't imagine not trying again.
“You know the most important thing my old man ever taught me?” Gorak snarled as he jumped to his feet. “Look to your own arse first. And he made damn sure I'll never forget it.” Twisting so Khalid could see the thick lattice of scars that covered his back. “First thing tomorrow we talk to Arbaq,” he said dismissively, ending the conversation as he walked out of the garden.
Sighing heavily, Khalid stood up and dusted off his robes. Having spent a great deal of time with Gorak in the last few weeks, he'd seen the scars before, but had always assumed that they had been earned in the desert against some ferocious beast. Still, Khalid wanted nothing more than to be out of Gem-Sharad. He was definitely not prepared to confront Halaal, and if he had his way, never would. Thinking about the frustration and rage that were consuming Gorak, he almost felt guilty abandoning Magol. Almost.
* * * * * * * * * * *
When they spoke to him the next morning, Arbaq already had something in mind, although he had not quite finalized the details. Three days had passed since their conversation in the garden, and Khalid hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words with Gorak since. Khalid was just responding to Arbaq's summons on the morning of the third day, when he met Shayla at an intersection of hallways, looking somewhat perplexed as she considered the paths before her.
“Khalid.” she said brightly, a smile playing across her beautiful features “Where are we supposed to meet Arbaq?”
“Ah, yes, this way I believe,” Khalid replied as he gestured towards the corridor on the right. Arbaq had requested they join him not in the study as usual, but in another room in the wing that housed his private chambers.
As they navigated the maze of hallways, Khalid chatted aimlessly with Shayla. “I think this is it,” he said as he opened the door. The reason Arbaq had summoned them to this room was immediately apparent. Maps of every sort hung from the walls. Covering the floor of the room was an enormous mosaic map of, as far as Khalid could tell, the entire known world crafted in exquisite detail. Arbaq stood at the far end of the room, dressed in his customary black, conversing quietly with a towering figure covered head to foot in soft grey robes. The thick folds of the stranger's cowl hung low, concealing his features. As he gestured at the map beneath their feet, the sleeve of his robe pulled back, and Khalid was surprised to see a wrapping of tight bandages completely covering his hand and forearm. Something about the stranger's posture and demeanor instantly made Khalid uncomfortable.
“Ah, welcome my friends,” Arbaq greeted them. “I expect Gorak will be joining us shortly.” No sooner had he said the words, that Gorak walked through the door, absently slamming it behind him.
“Excellent. Now that we are all here,” Arbaq continued, “let us get started. As you have requested,” he looked pointedly at Gorak, “I have a task that will take you out of Gem-Sharad...” Khalid's spirits rose immediately and he leaned forward intently, “...and into the Eastern kingdom.” Khalid sighed and slumped back against the wall, trying to ignore the queasy feeling that settled into the pit of his stomach. “My informant,” Arbaq waved a hand at the robed figure, “has obtained some interesting information that I need you to verify.”
“Um, Arbaq, isn't the East full of Dwerro right now?” Shayla interrupted.
“Indeed.”
“We aren't Dwerro,” Shayla pointed out, somewhat unnecessarily.
“A fact that has not escaped me, my dear,” Arbaq replied dryly. “Indulge me a moment, and I will explain. There is a mountain, far to the northeast, that stands alone in the plains. It is said to be the ruins of an ancient Dwerro citadel that is considered sacrosanct by them. They will not venture into it, and there is little within a hundred miles that would interest the Dwerro military. It is highly unlikely that their scouts, much less any part of their actual army will be anywhere in the vicinity.”
“I need you to travel to this peak, gain entry and search the ruins for any information on the forging of adamantine.”
“Easy enough,” Gorak grunted sarcastically, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smirk. “But tell me how,” he continued, echoing Khalid's thoughts, “are we going to get across the mountains?”
“There are three routes,” Arbaq replied. “The central path, and the easiest to get to, is of course barred by the Dwerro.”
“Ah, perhaps yes, perhaps no,” Khalid said. “We have certain ways, yes, ways around that. It would however, likely require promises I am not prepared to keep and place us in the middle of the Dwerro army, most of which doesn't owe us any favors. Still, it may be an option. Yes, quite.”
“Indeed,” Arbaq agreed. “The second path is weeks to the south, through the jungle and around the tip of the mountain range.
“That's gonna put us on the wrong side of the Dwerro army,” Gorak pointed out. “We're gonna be traveling for months through poorly mapped and heavily occupied territory.”
“That's if we even make it through the jungle, Khalid said glumly, staring at the vast expanse of green tile beneath his feet.
“The jungle don't bother me, but the Dwerro, they're gonna be hell and a half to get by. What's the next choice?”
“Giant path.”
“Ah, yes, so called because it is large, and well marked?” Khalid asked hopefully.
“Well, that, and the tribe of mountain giants that call it home,” Arbaq replied.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Khalid sighed despondently. “I suppose its the jungle and the Dwerro then,” he said morosely.
“There is another way,” the cloaked figure rasped as he stepped forward into the center of the map.
At the sound of his thick, hoarse voice, a nagging sense of familiarity gripped Khalid. Glancing nervously at Arbaq, he forced himself to take a deep, slow breath and focus on the conversation. After all, he reasoned, Arbaq trusted this informant, and that was good enough.
“...fraught with danger,” the cloaked figure continued, a thought which evidently amused him as he uttered a shorting barking laugh. “It is known only to the locals, and me of course.” Again, the man let out a short, hiccuping laugh that made Khalid question his sanity. “There are many places to go astray along the path, but I know the route. It begins here.” The informant stooped down and dragged a gnarled twisted fingernail across the mountains, far to the north.
“What's that town there?” Gorak stabbed a thick finger at the map, near where the stranger had indicated.
“Daggerfall,” Arbaq replied.
“Sounds pleasant,” Shayla said. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
The meeting concluded, Khalid sighed and headed to his room to pack.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Three days of hard riding was enough to make Khalid long for Gem-Sharad and Halaal's vengeance, which had to be quicker than the slow, agonizing pounding that jarred his bones and hammered his muscles into quivering jelly. They had headed northeast, and hit the foothills of the mountains on the afternoon of the third day. Along the thin band of hills that framed the mountains, the land was somewhat more forgiving. Mountain runoff fed innumerable small streams that trickled down out of the hills, providing enough water to sustain the coarse golden grass that extended out in patches and clumps to the edge of the desert.. Opening his eyes, Khalid blinked in the bright sunlight, and stretched slowly. Seeing Gorak and Shayla staring at him worriedly, he sat up quickly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. “Ah, yes, what is it?” he asked. “Did I miss breakfast?”
“You almost were breakfast,” Gorak snorted as he pointed at the carcasses of two badly burned leopards nearby. “They knocked you offa your horse and had your skinny shanks halfway into the hills before we dusted them.”**
“Are you okay?” Shayla asked, the concern evident in her tone.
“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid replied as he stood up, thankful he had remained unconscious until after Gorak had finished mending his wounds. “No permanent, yes, permanent damage it would seem, except to my pride.” He examined the tattered remains of his clothing with a critical eye. “And, ah, to my robes it seems. I should have brought more.” he said mournfully.
That bit of unpleasantness behind them, they rode late into the evening, and started again far to early in the morning to suit Khalid. For the hundredth time, he cursed Gorak's penchant for early morning meditation as he stumbled into the saddle after a cold, bland meal of dried fruits and bread. The sun crept across the sky with agonizing slowness as Khalid dozed lightly in his saddle. Dreaming idly about enchanting his robes to be tear proof, he almost tumbled from his saddle as Gorak startled him awake.
“Huh. That's a funny looking tree. Wonder what it's doing way out here?” He rumbled as he jumped down off his horse. Casually picketing it to the ground, he began to walk towards the small, squat tree.
Always eager for a break, Khalid followed suit and dismounted gingerly. He clutched at his saddle horn as his legs wobbled underneath him. Gritting his teeth as the feeling slowly tingled back into his numb legs, he watched as Gorak, with Shayla trailing behind him, headed towards the odd little tree.
Although Khalid had no particular interest in herbology, he could see what had attracted Gorak's attention. While there was enough water to sustain the waves of golden grass that covered the hills, there wasn't another tree in sight. And the tree itself was peculiar. Only slightly taller than Khalid's six feet, it had an enormous trunk, almost five feet around. Clusters of tiny red fruit dotted the branches, and the dark, waxy green leaves rustled in the breeze. Khalid frowned slightly as the leaves rippled again. Where he was standing, the air was still, without the hint of a breeze. “Ah, Gorak,” he called out in warning, just as all hell broke loose.
The grass at Gorak and Shayla's feet began to whip about in a frenzy, wrapping tightly around their legs and anchoring them firmly to the ground. Fortunately for Khalid, the creature's reach stopped just short of where he was standing, and he remained free of the entangling plants. Ropey vines, as thick as a man's arm, uncoiled from the branches of the tree and shot out, reaching for Gorak, who recoiled and raised his club defensively. In unison, Shayla and Gorak began to chant, as Khalid carefully circled the perimeter of the plant's influence. As Shayla finished her spell, Khalid watched with mounting concern as the spinning discs of force she cast out ricocheted off the trunk with little effect. Gorak was rewarded with nothing more than a scorch mark as his hand burst into flame at the culmination of his spell, and he launched a glowing orb of flame at the tree.
“Khalid, you'd better get in this!” Gorak barked as the tree gave a shuddering lurch and moved forward several feet towards him. The huge vines curled around his waist and Gorak grunted as the air was forced from his lungs beneath the plant's crushing grasp.
Khalid, shaking his head in disbelief at the rampaging foliage, mentally ran through his prepared spells in dismay. The creatures ability to manipulate its surroundings was forcing Khalid out of range of his most powerful spells. Deciding to take a chance, he began to run through the complex intonations of a summoning spell. His eyes closed, he could hear Shayla shriek out the final words to another spell and then curse in frustration. By the vile epithet that Gorak delivered, Khalid was certain his situation was becoming desperate.
Suddenly Khalid was gripped with a fierce panic as his spell began to unravel. Repeating the final words and gestures once more, Khalid struggled to impose his will upon the reluctant target of his spell. Bending every ounce of his concentration on the task, he held the complex formula in his mind and forced open the gate, drawing forth one of the smallest devil kin, and dropping the squirming, bloated ball of teeth and flesh as close to the tree as possible. His gamble failed however, and the little creature was swallowed up in the sea of swirling grass before it could close the last ten feet on the plant.
Gorak was almost completely engulfed as the tree shuffled forward again. His struggles were growing more feeble with each passing second, as he frantically used his flaming hand to keep the vines from encircling his neck. Lacking the breath to speak, Khalid could see the grim resignation in his eyes as he slowly succumbed to the plant's brutal assault.
As she loosed another volley Shayla cried, “I can't reach it with anything more powerful!” The plant, however, obligingly took another shuddering step forward, pulling Gorak who was now completely buried beneath a writhing mass of vines, closer towards its trunk. The only part of Gorak still visible was his right hand, burning with the last flames of his spell. Then, the flames winked out, and even that tiny part was swallowed up.
“Come on!” Shayla shrieked as lump that was Gorak toppled over to the ground and began to slid towards the tree. “Come closer you bastard!” The tree, apparently not satisfied with just one meal, heeded her calls and again moved forward towards Shayla, two huge vines uncoiling from Gorak and reaching out hungrily for her. “NOW BURN, BITCH!” she screamed as she unleashed a jet of white hot flame directly at the base of the tree, boring a deep, smoking crater into the bark.
Khalid, frantic now to the point of foolish courage, grabbed a scroll from his belt and hitched up his robes. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the area of the creatures influence, stepping quickly to avoid the grasping plants, until he reached the exact limit of his range. Feeling the animated grass at his feet begin to curl around his legs, gathered his thoughts and stared at the rune on the scroll in his hands. A duplicate of the spell Shayla had just cast, they had worked on the scroll together, but Khalid had never actually cast the spell himself. Speaking the final word and completing the spell, he was so taken aback by the scorching heat that engulfed his hand, he nearly forgot that this spell, unlike most of those in his spell book, required careful aim. Stabbing his finger at the creature, he closed his eyes and prayed that he'd prepared the scroll correctly. The white hot jet of magical flame struck the tree, dead center. With an enormous crack, the tree fractured into two pieces, as thick black sap pulsed from the wound. Immediately, the waving vines went limp, dropping to the ground, and the grass at their feet lost its strength.
Khalid and Shayla raced towards the motionless form of Gorak, and began hacking away at the vines that encased him. Cutting away the branches around his face, Shayla gasped when she saw the ashen grey color of his skin. “Is he...” she trailed off tearfully, too afraid of the answer to finish.
“Ah, I think he's still alive!” Khalid replied jubilantly as he felt the faintest breath of air on his hand. Fumbling for a potion at his belt, he upended the contents into Gorak's mouth. “Just barely.”***
With a coughing groan, Gorak's eyes fluttered opened. He immediately tensed up as he realized he was still bound almost head to foot by the plant, then relaxed when he saw Khalid and Shayla standing over him. As Khalid started to speak, Gorak glared at him and growled, “Don't even say it. Just get me outta this thing.” After they finished removing a few of the thicker branches, Gorak shoved their hands away and flexed mightily, bursting free of the last remaining vines. Pausing only briefly to cast a few healing spells, he continued towards the smoking ruin of the tree, with Shayla trailing cautiously behind. After a careful inspection of the carnivorous tree, which even Khalid had to admit was morbidly fascinating, they mounted up and continued their journey north.
For the next day and a half Khalid continued to mull over the battle in his mind, time and again coming to the same unsettling conclusion. When they stopped for the evening, he glanced around and judging it to be relatively safe, began cast a spell. He rambled off the words to a simple summoning spell, and with a final, beckoning gesture, summoned the spirit of a hunting canine to him. Seeing no immediate threat, the dog dropped to the ground at Khalid's feet and began to lick itself. Having felt nothing unusual while casting the spell, Khalid dismissed the dog, took a deep breath, then recast the spell, this time with a different target. Summoning the least of the devilkin, a foul mishapped blob known as a lemure, should have been a simple task for a wizard of Khalid's skill, but immediately he felt the magic slipping away from him. Sweat began to pour down his face as the arcane liturgy rippled from his tongue through clenched teeth. Finally, he felt the portal began to open, and his will exert itself over the tiny devil. With a tiny pop, the sickening little creature appeared, causing Khalid to gag at the smell of spoiling meat that surrounded it. Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Khalid paused for a moment then frowned as he studied the lemure. Something's wrong, Khalid thought to himself as he approached the devil, which was now gibbering and moaning softly as its crazed eyes rolled wildly. Reaching out, Khalid poked the thing in the head, and then jerked his hand back, not from revulsion but shock, as the tip of his finger seemed to almost pass through the creature. Frightened, Khalid hauled back and punched the devil in the head, as hard as he could. Again, the unnerving feeling of passing through the creature before striking substance. Scowling viciously at the oblivious devil, Khalid didn't notice that Shayla had dropped out of the pocket dimension they slept in, and was watching him curiously.
“You shouldn't hit him like that,” she scolded. “He didn't do anything to you. Poor thing.”
“Bah!” Khalid cursed as he kicked the lemure full in the face, sending it toppling over. It immediately righted itself, gibbering and twitching in agitation. “It's a devil, yes, devil, Shayla,” he retorted, his voice laced with frustration, “It lives on one of the lower planes of hell. Me kicking, yes, kicking it in the head is probably the closest thing its had to a vacation in eons. Yes, quite.”
“And besides,” grunted Gorak, who had stuck his head through out of the portal to see what the commotion was about, “Arbaq's harem girls give massages that are more violent than one of Khalid's left hooks.”
“Bah!” Khalid repeated again, in no mood for the good natured ribbing of his friends. Gnawing worriedly on his lower lip, he turned his back on them and walked away, as the devil vanished with a bang.
They put two more days of travel behind them, during which Khalid studiously refused to think about the implications of his little experiment. By the morning of the second day, they had picked up a road, heading north along the foothills of the mountains. Several hours after lunch, the road turned sharply east, and headed directly into the hills. Coming over a small rise, Khalid's eyebrows rose in amazement at the village before them. The small black dot on the map called Knolton was actually an impressive town of several thousand people, carved into the top of a hill in large terraces. Houses and gardens, even pastures and fields were visible behind the walled terraces. The main road cut back and forth up the side of the hill, providing the only passage for large carts and animals to reach the upper levels. Squat stone houses with thick wooden doors and shutters lined the main street on one side, with their backs up against the hill, and the top of the hill was dominated by a huge well fortified mansion.
Khalid, Gorak and Shayla rode down into the wide, sunlit valley that surrounded the hill, passing more and more people heading to and from the town. After waving a greeting to the first few people and receiving nothing save for suspicious glares, Khalid hunched his shoulders and drew his hands back into the sleeves of his robes. As the road curved along the wall of the lowest terrace, Khalid could see a large wooden gate ahead, surrounded by a knot of people. Caught in the press, they dismounted to lead the horses through the crowd. The guards at the gate seemed to be simply nodding and greeting people as they entered, until the three of them reached the front of the line. Two of the guards looked at one another, then waved them off to the side, away from the gates and came over to speak to them.
“Where are you three headed?” the guard asked curtly. He was a stocky man, shorter than Gorak, with a round face and full beard that hung down over his chain shirt and tabard. His hand rested easily on a spear, and he looked the three of them up and down critically.
Gorak, not liking the man's tone, grunted belligerently, “Inta your town for the night.”
“Yeah, well we'll see about that,” muttered the other guard, a tall, lanky man that had left his post at the gate. “What's your business here?”
Khalid, trying to head off an unpleasant situation, spoke up, “Ah, just passing through on our way north, yes, quite. We'd hoped to sleep in a soft bed and re-provision, yes, re-provision before heading out in the morning.”
“Uh-huh,” grunted the chubby guard noncommittally. He then turned, rather pointedly away from Gorak and spoke to Khalid and Shayla “And where'd you three odd looking folks meet up?”
Khalid hesitated for a moment, not certain where the guard's line of questioning was heading, but becoming increasingly worried about the prospects of spending the night in the town gaol. “Ah, we set out, originally from Gem-Sharad,” Khalid stammered, “some weeks back.”
“Izzat so? You three been together, all the way from Gem-Sharad eh?” the guard pressed on.
“Ah, indeed.” Khalid replied. When the guard looked at Shayla, she just nodded.
“Right then,” the guard said, grudgingly pacified. “We'll just take a look through your packs and make sure you ain't bringing no trade into the city. There's a ten percent tax on trade goods brought in by foreigners.” Since most of their belongings were stowed within the magical haversack that appeared almost empty, the search only took a few moments. Somewhat sullenly, the pudgy guard waved them through the gate with a final warning that foreigners were not allowed to carry weapons in public, having exhausted all excuses to delay them.
Within the city, their reception was little warmer. Moving quickly down the main avenue, they didn't stop to ask directions, hoping instead that they would recognize an inn when they saw the sign. They had climbed two terraces and were half way up the hill before they found a clearly marked tavern. As they stopped in front of the door, a tow headed young boy jumped up off the porch, and rushed to greet them. “Stable your horses?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Ah, no, thank you, that won't be necessary,” Khalid replied as they shouldered their packs and walked towards the door. With a snap of his fingers, Khalid dismissed the summoned mounts, leaving the young lad looking both amazed and disappointed. As they entered the inn, they were greeted with a blast of warm air carrying the scents of roasting meat and potatoes. Hurrying up to the main desk, Khalid quickly negotiated for several rooms and meals. The tavern keeper, a rotund man in his late fifties, eyed Gorak suspiciously until Khalid added a few more coins to the pile, and Shayla shot him an encouraging smile. Grumbling under his breath, the man swept the coins off the bar and into his apron, and directed them over to a table in a dark corner of the tavern. They settled down, and the barmaid brought them mugs of ale, as the tavern began to fill up with regulars, men and women of every age, wearing the drab brown and grey woolens that seemed to be the fashion in the town.
Despite a few less than friendly glances during their meal, they were left alone to eat in peace while the inn busied up around them. As the barmaid cleared away the last of their plates, the door to the inn banged open and a large imposing man, obviously another foreigner, strode into the inn. Standing almost a head taller than most of the locals, his fiery red hair and full beard were long, and bound in thick braids. His bare arms were massive, with thick bronze cuffs around his wrists, well suited to using the wicked looking battle axe that hung from a loop on his belt. A finely trimmed ermine cloak was clasped across his barrel chest and the glint of highly polished chain links flashed out as he moved through the bar. He looked around curiously before he stopped at the end of their table and asked in a deep voice, “Mind if I sit here?” Without waiting for a response, he swung his leg over the back of the chair, dropped his pack and sat down. “You folk look more interesting then the rest of this lot in here.” Popping open the buckle on his weapons belt, he let it slide to the ground with a contented sigh as his substantial girth expanded even further.
“Ah, well, yes,” Khalid began, somewhat taken back, as Gorak frowned disapprovingly.
“Names Hammond Auldwulf,” the man continued, extending a huge hand to Khalid. “Merchant by trade, charming rogue by nature.”
“Ah, yes, I'm Khalid...” Khalid began before trailing off with a furtive look at Gorak and Shayla, as he realized he could be talking to a professional bounty hunter, “...Abdul-Azim,” he concluded lamely, hoping that Hammond had not noticed the awkward pause.
He needn't have worried however as Hammond had already turned and offered his hand to Shayla with an engaging grin and a wink, and then to Gorak as well. As he shook hands with Gorak, he remarked, “I must say, you're a helluva brave man.”
Gorak, unsure if he was being made the butt of some joke, growled, “Some people think so. But since I never met you before, what makes you say that?”
Suddenly, all conversation in the bar stopped, as a single bell began to toll, somewhere down in the lower city. It peeled once, twice, then a third time, with increasing urgency when another bell tolled, from far up the hill. In an instant the town was reverberating with a cacophony of bells ringing from all quarters. Within the bar there was an explosion of activity. People leapt up from their tables and ran to the doors, leaving their meals still steaming on the table. The barmaid vanished into the back room, as the barkeep pulled a stout iron bound cudgel off the wall behind him and leapt over the bar, rushing out the door and closing it with a bang.
As Gorak, Shayla and Khalid looked around in a stunned amazement at now deserted bar, the sound of a dozen bells echoing in their ears, Hammond's grinned faded and he turned to Gorak with a deadly serious expression. “I think you're about to find out.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
* This was frustrating. I had to sit silently while they debated where to go while I was chasing Hazal. As soon as they decided to head to Gormo's inn, I knew the adventure was over and we failed. Again, one of the problems with only playing once every few weeks - they'd both forgotten that Khalid had studiously avoided Gormo and had no idea what inn he was staying at.
** This was absolutely infuriating. I played Khalid so carefully – up until this point, I'd barely even got hit. I took more damage in that first surprise round then I had in the campaign to date, and they almost killed me.
*** This random encounter nearly ended the campaign (silly druid, cavorting with unfamiliar foliage). We just weren't picking up on the fire resistance (wooden tree = fire bad right?) on the assassin vine, but really, we didn't have a lot of options.