Darkest Day pt 1
The Darkest Day: Part 1
Well, we've been following the adventures of the Corvus Company for a while now, but here's a return to the chronicle of the tale of Wolf's Company; this is the first part of an account of the horrors that descend upon them in a small, innocent Adbarian village...
The walk out of Halstath was uneventful enough. Despite Kale's worries, the gate guards let them pass without a second glance, and they were soon out of the town.
Out in the cool night, a faint breeze rushing over the surface of the Sapphire, the party made camp in the small, secluded spot not far along from the Halstath waterfront that Wyshira had previously found. Looking out over the water gave a view of the wide lake surface in the gloom of night, some small light from the night sky shedding little radiance over the scene; it reflected in dappled patterns from the ripples. Over the far side, cliffs rising up and topped with forest could be seen.
The campfire crackled and hissed, food cooking in a pot that Wolf had slung over it. The ranger sat down by the warmth, having 'gone for a wander' a few minutes earlier.
"No sign of anyone following us, and I guess we'll be safe enough here tonight. Tomorrow morning we strike north-west and try and get out of Corinthia into the lordless lands between here and Adbar."
He settled to make himself more comfortable. "Not the best of things to happen today, I have to say. We could have really done without Toranites taking an interest in you." He paused to scoop some of the food out of the pot and into a bowl. "I hadn't thought anything of it when I'd heard there've been more Carthagians in the area over the last few years. Not that I could've guessed they'd get involved in this fiasco as well."
Kale sat there, reflecting on the recent events. As the rudy glow of the small fire lit the crew's still-intact faces, everything seemed all right.
Only, everything wasn't alright for Kale. Battle over, camp set, Wolf returned from the perimeter check, all that was left was to reflect on what had happened. Reason could not dispell the unknown dread that grew in Kale's thoughts. He looked at these three around the fire- walking together into something much bigger than 'fighting to make some coin.' What they were working for sounded suspiciously more and more like a Cause, with the Toranites and plenty of other folks with opposing Causes of their own.
Kale paled as visions of armies of black-armored soldiers approached. Spiked gauntlets, and divine spells. "You'll die for this, fool!" For what? He was only doing his job... But no, it had become personal.
Feeling his sore neck, the gauntleted hand may have been gone, but Kale still felt strangled. His fate might already be out of his control, but it was just a race, whether someone like the Toranite, or a Cause would catch him first. His days of freedom were coming to an end, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Wyshira knew there was definitely something going on with Kale.
They had reached a place to camp and made preparations for the night. Everyone was pretty quiet after the disruption at the inn and their flight from the town. Each seemed to be busy thinking their own thoughts about the day.
Wyshira was tired - the afternoon swim had left her both hungry and sleepy - but was torn between dozing where she sat, and getting up to fix herself a bowl of whatever it was that Wolf was cooking. So far, dozing had won out. She watched the others through half-closed eyes as they sat round the softly flickering campfire.
Her eyes kept coming back to Kale. He looked as though he were being consumed by something. His hands were constantly moving; fiddling with his weapons, stripping the bark from a bit of wood, rubbing at the back of his neck. He stared into the fire without seeming to see it, then out into the darkness of the night. She knew that he was going to get up and walk out of camp, probably before even he knew he was going to. She briefly considered following after him. But that was something that even she understood you just didn't do in a band such as this. If someone walked out of camp like that, it was because he wanted to be alone.
Give him a little time, she thought. A little, but not too much, under the circumstances...
Burl too had noticed Kale's discomfort, but for the quiet necromancer there seemed little he could do. After all, he figured he was quite possibly the cause of the young man's discomfort anyway. Instead, he just remained quiet, his overexcited hedgehog familiar scurrying around his feet.
Rising slowly, Kale walked uphill and downwind from the fire and camp. Away from the warmth of the fire, he breathed the cool air and relaxed for a moment, head swimming with all the things he didn't know. The trees around him swayed with the trailing winds from the recent rains, forest fresh with the smell of new life. Crouching over with a desperate look in his eyes, there was a tubed-slosh sound and a messy splatter as Kale vomited silently.
Wiping the bile from his chin, flicking it to the puddle at his feet, he regarded the whole scene dispassionately. Control was an illusion, it seemed, even when it came to his own body. But what was control to a soldier? With even his life lifted up to the hands of fate, a soldier like he longed to be had perhaps the least control of any being to draw breath.
Shadows and gods and magics and countries and armies- and what was Kale but one bloody blade? Yet that which he was, he was: one heartbeat, one voice in a huge chorus of souls. From time immemorial until times to ever come, voices from the bloody poor infantry create, word by word, the epics sung by bards and gods. A grievous wound to the pride of all powers, the Cause always came down to common men: the mortal, temporal, often futile lives of those whose blood wetted the battlefield.
Those who sit on thrones, those who hold power are fooled when they consider themselves better than the chambermaid, the armsman, the scribe. The wise know better than to curse the hands and feet.
"You'll die for this, fool...."
You first.
Straightening, Kale kicked dirt over his vomit to keep the scent from spreading. Taking another deep breath, he felt much smaller, and yet less afraid of all the powers and mysteries mounting against the group.
Walking back to the fire, Kale acknowledged the looks from his companions, reassuring Wyshira for her look of concern. Shooting a small grin, Kale quipped, "Damn inn needs some help- food tastes better coming up than going down..." He did not deny what had just happened, but Kale evidently didn't feel like talking about it at the moment.
Producing his waterskin and bowl, he refilled his stomach while listening to what Wolf had to say about the evening's events.
Meanwhile, Wyshira was feeling a little more awake. It seemed that they had made a safe get-away and wouldn't be running into any problems again tonight. She felt she could spare some of the Lady's power to perform some healing. She began by taking out her kit and tending Wolf's injuries. Using her innate ability to create clean, pure water, she washed the wounds and dressed them. Then she called on the goddess to heal him.
When Kale returned, she did the same for his wounds. She took a little more time with him, just to offer him some extra support. She cleaned the puncture wounds on his neck and applied a pungent, watery green paste to hopefully stave off infection. Then laying cool hands on the injured area, she breathed a prayer to Ishrak over him. The power of the goddess coursed like a mountain torrent down her arms and into his body, washing away most of the pain and the damage.
"Kale, don't worry. We'll probably never see him again." She meant the priest of Toran, of course. There was more she wanted to say to try to comfort the young man, but Kale wasn't easy to read. She thought he had more than fear of an avenging cleric with a personal grudge against him on his mind, but she wasn't sure what it was. And she wasn't really sure he wanted such comfort from her. She thought it best to leave well enough alone for now. She gave him a reassuring smile then turned away.
Wyshira looked first at Burl, the unassuming necromancer that everyone seemed to be so interested in, and then at Wolf. She wondered if the mercenary knew more about what was going on than he was letting the rest of them in on.
"Wolf, tell me again why that rival Irilian family wanted us to rescue Burl from the Pendarmes?"
Wolf leaned back, eyes carefully observing Kale without expressing any hint of what the older mercenary might be thinking. Around them, the breeze through the forest generated a faint sussuration, a faint voice almost. Listening as carefully as one could, a fellow might even have thought they could pick out faint words on the wind, just beyond the edge of understanding - yet no more a reality than the ephemeral breeze itself.
"Thanks for the healing, Wyshira - praise the Storm Lady and all that," he said with a smile. In response to her question, he shrugged. "They wanted Burl gone because if he was snatched from their grasp it would be a major embarrassment. The only prisoner from the raids in the north, in their hands, and they lose him... it won't be looking good for the Pendarme's reputation just now, I imagine the king'll be wanting a word with them about that little fiasco. Odd though, they must not have realised what everyone else was planning, to put our wizard here in such a vulnerable position like that. If I'd been in their position, I'd have just got a priest to come to the residence and question him, rather than taking him to the temple, even under guard."
He paused.
"We're being watched. Listen."
There, on the breeze again, the faintest suspicion of words on the breeze, flitting at the edge of audibility.
The mercenary slowly stood up, looking around the clearing, hand on sword pommel.
"I've had just about enough fights for one day," he hissed under his breath.
While Wolf talked, Wyshira filled her bowl from the cooking pot and returned to her seat. She sat as near to the water and as far from the campfire as she could possibly get, without appearing to be antisocial.
She sighed. She had been afraid that getting mixed up in Irilian politics would not be a good thing for their little band. And see where they were now. But poor Burl! He had become involved, through no fault of his own, apparently just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If they had not shown up to rescue him when they did, who knows what might have happened to him?
She suddenly became aware that Wolf had stopped talking and had risen from his seat by the fire. He stood tense and still, listening. The rising whisper of the wind in the leaves of the trees was the only thing she could hear. Burl gathered his things and began to move toward cover.
"What.....?" Wyshira began, but then she heard it: words on the wind; a voice or voices that she could just barely make out, but while the sound seemed like speech, it was unintelligible to her. She stood up too, and began to look around. She didn't feel afraid, mainly because she couldn't imagine what there was to be afraid of. Voices? She wasn't even really sure what she was hearing.
Relaxing, Burl had been watching Spike moving around, while he listened to Wolf’s ideas on why he was being hunted. Twice he had noticed as Wolf slightly cocked his ear, so when he told them to listen, he was not surprised. As Wolf grabbed his sword, Burl quickly picked up Spike, placed him in his bag which was thrown over his shoulder. Looking for somewhere to take cover, Burl moved to some small boulders and waited.
Still sitting, Kale shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, beside the fire, but practically squatting in place. Looking past Wolf to the forest fringe beyond, he scanned in exact opposite to the older mercenary: now Wolf had eyes in the back of his head.
Never one to stare into a fire, Kale's night vision was shot nevertheless. Rather than dwell on this shortcoming, though, he focussed a smooth eye on any movement he could find, and listened carefully.
No need to stink of fear, Kale reminded himself as he told his body to relax. Soft firelight played across Kale's face as he turned placidly, a camper simply regarding his surroundings. If there was anyone there, his manner could not fool them: he had heard something, and was aware. But more than being aware, Kale wanted to show another thing, I'm not afraid.
An important message to convey, especially when one is afraid...
It sounded like speech but for all that they could make out of it, was more like insane gibbering caught on the edge of reality and filtering through to the real world only in fragments... herethererunwalklookseewebweavertearstrandhereovertherewalk... barely words at all but closer to nonsensical meaning being transmitted straight into the listeners ears, and constantly leaving them unsure whether they really were hearing anything more than the breeze through the trees.
Then a stronger gust of wind whipped across the sheltered slope, tugging at clothes and filling their ears with its roar, blocking out other noise before calming again.
Try as hard as they might, none of the party could pick out even the faintest suspicion of speech on the wind anymore.
Clearly unsettled, a sheen of sweat on his brow glistening in the meagre firelight, Wolf slowly sat back down again.
"It seems we're alone again."
* * *
The night passed without further incident. As the fire burned low into embers, one after another of the disparate party dropped into sleep, and no creature of the night nor whisper on the wind came to put an end to them while they slumbered.
Burl's sleep was wracked with trouble nonetheless. Strange dreams of half-formed thoughts shimmered in his head, until finally he dropped into a dreamscape so vivid it seemed almost real. He stood on a massive plain of blasted, scorched earth, thousands of hazy figures moving on the terrain around him, blurred and indistinct as they moved in swarms to clash with others. The sky was dominated by black roiling clouds that occasionally flared into red flame, and beneath them he could see huge shapes outlined, like the mountains themselves had uprooted to stride amidst the battling figures that seemed tiny at their feet. They too seemed indistinct, titans far away moving like icebergs, and only a hint of arm or head occasionally made them more recogniseable as figures or huge animals or worse.
And the ground shook around him; he turned to see, looming over him, one of the monolithic beings, a shapeless, undefined form that seemed to expand to fill all his vision till he could see nothing else but oblivion...
* * *
It was a long walk the next day, Wolf rousing the others before dawn so that they could get a good distance between themselves and any pursuers from Halstath who might have tarried until morning before venturing out. After a couple of hours the sun had broken over a vallye rise, flooding across them with warm golden light. Certainly, the weather seemed to be improving as spring rode on, though clouds still dominated the sky above.
Burl had debated with himself as to whether to tell the others of his dream or not, in the end speaking of it but downplaying the importance of it. Wolf had listened to Burl hesitantly recounting his dream, then had shrugged. "Everyone has dreams; largely they mean nothing. I wouldn't worry about it too much; probably just nightmares brought on by what you've been through in the last few days."
Kale watched Wolf, wondering as always how the ranger somehow managed to be awake before everyone else, as if he didn't even sleep at all.
Trudging on through the watery light of the low sun was tiring, and by the time midday had come even hardy Wolf seemed eager to stop for food and a rest. Here on a rolling plain studded with copses of trees they paused, atop a rise giving them good views all round of the land. The sun was still defiantly shining through patches of open sky above.
Wolf leant against one of the handful of trees dotted on the rise, chewing on bread and cheese. "We'll make fair time if we continue at this pace, I reckon. I'd prefer to travel by horse though, or else we're going to be taking weeks to get anywhere - I might take the chance to 'liberate' a few if we come across any. After all, once we leave Corinthia we're in lawless land and I'd prefer to spend as little time as possible in wild Drakkath before we can reach Adbar."
Kale nodded in agreement. He was used to travelling by foot, but the way was long, and time was of some importance. 'Liberating horses,' indeed- Kale would be sure to tag along, so that Wolf couldn't hog all the 'glory' for himself. Four horses would be fairly difficult for one man to handle.
"Hopefully we wont have anymore nighttime visitors either," Wolf muttered uneasily before tearing into his lunch again.
"Indeed," Kale agreed as Wolf attacked his food once more. Leaning over to Burl and Wyshira, smirk on his face, Kale eyed Wolf and remarked, "You may not know this, but Wolf is a nickname... referring to how he eats." A lie, but a fun one at that. There was no need to spend all their hours fretting about dark armor and haunting voices- Kale found diversion 'sowing discord' among the merc crew.
* * *
It had been a quick 'raid'. Kale and Wolf had snuck off to a nearby farmstead, where a few horses grazed in a field. The older mercenary knew that there'd be no way they could convince the owners to sell the beasts, but the party needed transport, hence it was a sad necessity that the two mercenaries had to quietly lead out four of the animals and guide them back to the camp. To make up for the losses, he left a bag of coin tied to the gate of the field; enough to pay for the animals, whose loss would only mean a minor setback. For the party, who couldn't risk travelling back into Halstath, their options for acquiring transport were more limited.
Basic riding gear had been stored nearby, so when Wolf and Kale brought the animals back to the camp they were more or less ready for travel. Wolf spent some time whispering quietly to the creatures, reassuring them and keeping them calm for their new owners.
"Time for us to move, I think. We've wasted enough time today already. Everyone ready? We'll be leaving Corinthia soon, with any luck; once we're in unclaimed Drakkath, keep your eyes open. It can be dangerous."
Burl had been sitting, eating his cold lunch, watching Spike scamper about foraging. He must have been lost in thought, since he didn’t even notice their absence until they were leading four horses back into camp. Walking over to Wolf and Kale, “I won’t even ask where you found these horses. I am only grateful as my feet were beginning to complain.” Burl did, however, listen to their story about the peaceful raid on the farmer’s livestock, grateful that they had not needed to resort to force. “Let me know how much I owe you for my horse. I can’t let you spend your hard earned money.” Gathering his equipment and Spike, Burl claimed the horse that Wolf said was his, stored his things and mounted, ready to leave.
“Unfortunately, we seem to be leaving a trail, if anyone wishes to follow. There are four of us and the farmer had four horses stolen. If anyone is following, it would be pretty easy to guess we were here.”
Wolf shrugged. "Not a lot we can do about that, not if we want to get to Naseria within the next decade or two," he said wryly.
Wyshira had never sat on a horse before in her life. In fact, she had never even really gotten very close to one; she found them to be rather large and intimidating. She tried not to let her uneasiness show, however.
"I've never ridden before," she said simply, looking with more than a little trepidation at the shaggy-coated animal Wolf led over to her. They had given her the most docile one, a chestnut gelding, and it stood there calmly, waiting for her to mount.
"How do I do this now?" With half a wary eye on the animal's head, she reached up and grabbed two handfuls of the coarse mane. With a flourish of his traveler's cloak turned 'cape', Kale offered her his hand, and helped her to mount the 'noble steed'. She rode astride; she needed her legs to hang on, she decided, so side-saddle was out of the question. She hiked up her acolyte's robes, and clung to the horse for dear life with both hands and her knees. It seemed like a very long way down to the ground.
At first it took all of her attention to stay in her seat and make the horse go where she wanted it to go, but in a few hours she was doing fine. The miles passed more quickly and it seemed to be a bit easier to talk with her companions. She asked Burl what he remembered of his early years in Cryosia, and encouraged him to talk about his mother. She in turn told some stories about her childhood; how most of her time had been taken up with temple duties, but that she and her twin sister had often played hooky to go swim in the mountain stream. "Mother couldn't very well come in after us - she couldn't swim as fast as we could for one thing, or hold her breath very long!" She also talked a bit about her father, whom she only remembered as a man who wandered into their lives occasionally. He was an adventurer - a mercenary most likely, she now realized - who taught the girls how to use weapons, for one thing, and to see a bit beyond their narrow world-view, for another. "I haven't seen him in several years now though," she added, only a little wistfully.
* * *
Some few days later, and they broke out of Corinthia and into the wilds. It was strange; apart from the occasional independent settlement, usually mere hamlets, it really was wilderness; seemingly unclaimed by humankind, rugged valleys and untamed forests.
Amazingly they were untroubled by bandits ot beasts over those long days of riding; the worst they suffered was aches and pains from spending all day in the saddle. Stops in villages were uneventful, with sullen, suspicious villagers keeping their distance; many could well be criminals themselves, living outside national boundaries after having fled the law, and wanted nothing to do with travellers. Wolf spoke once or twice of the potential dangers of non-human inhabitants of the Drakkath like orcs, but none showed their face.
Eventually they left the wilds once more, and before them lay Adbar.
* * *
The sun was on its descent as they broke from the edge of forest onto orderly, cultivated fields. Spring was advancing well, the weather improving and the vegetation beginning to spring into abundant life, crops pushing upwards though the tilled ground.
Not far down a dirt track was a village, several buildings clustered round a central crossroads. For a village it was large enough, and the sounds of life were clearly audible, speech, the clang of a hammer on metal in the blacksmiths, the snort of an animal. To the north and the east, the landscape seemed to be undulating plains, and in the east the far away Khaya-Dan mountains rose up on the horizon.
They had taken a north-westerly direction from Corinthia, and Wolf had stated his plan to only skirt the edges of western Adbar as they continued in their former direction. Now that path had brought them to the outskirts of the Realm of the Sun, where the Church of Solanthar held such sway. Even in this small border village, some of the military and religious aspects of the might of Adbar showed through; the small white-washed sun temple, built at an angle to recieve as much of the light of the rising sun as possible, and the guard building, two mailed men sitting on its steps and watching the world go by.
Burl was none too happy - the realm where Solanthar's religion was so powerful was the last place he wanted to be, after his previous experiences with the deity's priesthood.
Wolf led the band up to the steps of the village tavern, a sizeable establishment identified by a sign depicting a bunch of grapes, once the horses were safely stabled. The plan was to lodge here for the evening, collect some supplies the next day, then continue on their way.
Inside it seemed pleasant enough, a fairly large number of clientele sitting around and drinking or talking. A meal was quickly served, of fair fare, but almost immediately as the party had begun on the food what looked like potential trouble reared its head.
Tall and gleaming like the sunrise itself, the man could hardly be missed. His plate armour was so polished and reflective it seemed almost like silver, inlaid with curling designs in golden etchings and regularly featuring sun motifs, and over it lay a surcoat emblazoned with the solar orb. Long black hair cascaded down to frame the bearded features of the man, whose dark eyes bore into the party as he strode towards them, white cloak swinging with his steps. One couldn't help but notice the hefty blade at his side.
Wolf watched the man as he closed in. It was evident to Kale at least that this individual must be some sort of warrior of Solanthar, yet he could surmise little more than that.
Wyshira watched with apprehension as the Solanthar warrior approached their table. Normally, she would have been at least a little curious about the man, wondering about the symbols etched into his armor, and about his relationship with his god. But recent events made her only wary and distrustful.
With the clank of armour, the knight came to a stop next to the table, laying a hand on Wolf's shoulder. "Wolf Kieresane. Haven't seen you in a long time."
Burl involuntarily cast a quick look for the nearest exit not in the direction of the warrior, prepared to run for his life. Kale tensed up, despite himself, ready for action if need be.
The knight grinned. "How've you fared?" and Kale relaxed.
Wolf shifted his own seat sideways to accomodate for the newcomer to pull up his own chair. "Well enough, Evant, though surprised to see you here. Oh... Evant, these people are travelling with me, we're heading to Naseria for work. Wyshira, Kale, Burl, Evant is a Solar Templar... you know, you might be able to fill us in on a few things. I haven't been in Adbar for a while."
The Templar nodded amicably. "Good to meet you people. I can be sure enough that if you travel with Wolf you must be good folk. What would you want to know, Wolf? Lots to tell, after all." He shrugged. "Lots of talk that it'll be a bad harvest again, like the last few years. There're mutterings it isn't just an act of nature, too; some of my superiors in the Church have ordered an investigation into it, which is why I'm here. I'm with an Inquisitor, Master Latorath, you see. Anyway, there's that... um, ah, yes. The Sun's Children, a powerful sect within the Church, have been very active north of our border; a lot of clergy don't like the sects influence so I'm guessing we're heading for strife there. More conflict with the hobgoblin nations of the north-east." He shrugged. "That's just off the top of my head, there's lots more. If any of you have any questions I'd do my best to answer."
As the conversation continued, Burl hoped that he was trying to remain calm in the presence of the Solar Templar, but at the mention of a Church Inquisitor, Burl blanched, nearly choking on his drink. Although he didn’t recognize the name, Burl excused himself, pleading bad food and headed outside to try to find a place that he could sit until he could regain his composure. Stepping outside, he spotted a wooden bench several buildings down in front of a store. Burl quickly made his way down and sat, his head between his legs. After several minutes, his breathing returned to normal, Burl noticed that the store had supplies for sale. Walking into it, he looked to make the purchase that he had promised himself he would do at first opportunity.
Wyshira wasn't too surprised when Burl excused himself, blaming the food - which could well be the cause, judging by the sick look on his face - and fumbled his way out the door to the street. She gave Kale a meaningful look, said, "I'd best look after him," and stood up, preparing to follow in the necromancer's footsteps. Before she departed however, she smiled at the Solar Templar and said, color=aqua]"It was a pleasure to meet you sir. I'm sorry that I'll miss the chance to know you better. Ishrak's blessing on you." [/color]
As Burl made his way whitefaced toward the door, Kale was a bit upset. But if someone told me old acid-face was in town, would I be able to keep my seat?
Hell yeah, Kale decided finally, hoping that Burl could someday come to the same conclusion. Still, Kale was glad to see Wyshira politely excuse herself. He nodded his approval to the young genasi as she made her way out. Company, comfortor, and an extra set of eyes, Wyshira's presence is just what Burl needed, and she knew it. It was a relief to know the four were looking out for one another.
The Templar threw a curious glance at the retreating back of Burl, and nodded in respectful acknowledgement to Wyshira as she departed after the man. Shrugging with the jingle of mail, he looked back to the two remainders. "So, anything I can help you with?"
"We're skirting the south-west of Adbar then heading west over the Plain of Sorrows. Any trouble around there?"
The Templar shrugged again. "Not that I know of. There's always the threat of undead on the Sorrows but that's nothing new to you."
* * *
Outside, Burl found it easy to acquire some more drab clothes as Wyshira caught up with him. "Are you really sick, Burl?" she asked the mage, full of concern. She could see in his face what the problem was. "No, I didn't think so. It was the Templar. Well, I don't blame you, after your experience with Solanthar priests. Perhaps it is best that you stay away from this warrior. Although I'm sure that Wolf would have warned you if it wasn't safe. I'll stay with you, if that's all right."
For a few coins, he was able to purchase some drab gray and brown cloth garments, totally unremarkable and good for if he wanted to make himself more inconspicuous.
Wyshira took the opportunity to ask the wizard if he could shed any light on the small magical globes she had acquired from the sahuagin pirates several weeks ago, but Burl too was puzzled by them. With that, the pair returned to the tavern.
* * *
Evant mentioned the possibility of undead on the plains, and Wolf's past experience with the things. With the other two gone, Kale had an opening to ask questions of Evant of a more personal nature.
"Perhaps you could help me, good Templar, about a great mystery." With current events infomation in hand, Kale sought out a different kind of information.
"I've known Wolf for a while now, but it seems he's forgotten to tell me quite a few interesting tales." Kale looked to Wolf with an inquiring eye, lightly concealing the mischief behind. "I wonder, Evant, how you met the man. Doubtless, saving him from the clutches of some fearsome goblin scout..." Kale speculated. Wolf, and Evant, too, were warriors experienced to a level eclipsing the young mercenary's short exploits, yet how was he to learn about his companion's dastardly deeds when the man was so quiet all the time? Perhaps this was the chance he was hoping for.
He had itched to ask earlier of Wolf's past exploits, but respected the veil the elder mercenary put over his past. Was it modesty? Manners? Past Pain? Likely just business, but Kale didn't want to range into new waters with new faces around...
At Kale's question, Wolf gave a kind of irritated snort and leant back in his chair, while the Templar's face creased in amusement and he rested his plated elbows on the table, clasping the gold-inlaid gauntlets together, throwing a glance at the mercenary warrior.
"When did we meet? That'd be some seven years ago, wouldn't it, Wolf? I wasn't a Solar Templar at the time, either, merely a Knight Sunbringer of the Order of Solanthar's Eye."
"Wolf was one of the mercenaries hired to help us deal with a problem that had arisen. A heretical sect had broken off the Church, calling themselves the Followers of Dusk and causing unrest and rebellion where they could in the western provinces. We put them down, and then we stormed their headquarters; they'd excavated some old temple just to the west of Adbar, on the Plain of Sorrow's edge. We fought through the upper levels and it was only when we reached the inner sanctums that we..." he suddenly paused, as if he almost said too much, "well, we saw some unpleasant, unsettling things. A success in the end though; the cult was cleansed, the temple..." again, another uneasy pause, "well, we thought it best to collapse the thing and seal off the lower levels. No more problems from it since."
"That's how I met this fellow, on that campaign."
He looked up as Wyshira and Burl returned. "Feeling any better?"
Taking his seat, Burl answered, “Thank you for your concern. Yes, I am feeling much better after getting some fresh air. Can I buy the next round?” Turning, Burl looks for the serving girl, waving her over to refresh everyone’s cup.
The Templar smiled at Burl's offer of a round of drinks. "Why, I think I'll take you up on that offer."
Kale nodded simply to the history Evant revealed, not wanting to dig any deeper into nasty matters- he had mostly only wanted to chip away at Wolf's veil of anonymity.
And the world is safe for humanity once more... Good men should be embarassed from time to time for being soft-spoken. Kale had enough time to lean back in his seat before Wyshira and Burl returned. Face no longer pale, Burl certainly looked a lot better.
Wyshira sipped self-consciously at her second ale. An awkward silence had descended on the gathering after she and Burl had returned to the table. The necromancer himself seemed to be wishing that he were sitting anywhere except next to a Solar Templar; Wolf was being his usual enigmatic self; while Kale - who was usually pretty good at easing tension in these sorts of situations - had also lapsed into moody quietude. Maybe she was imagining it all, but the silence seemed so heavy that she just had to break it.
"I, uh, don't really know what a Solar Templar is, er... Sir Evant." She smiled shyly at the gleaming warrior encased in his shining armor. "Or an Inquisitor either. Will you tell us about yourself, and what you do in your Church?"
Once the fresh round of drinks had arrived, he spoke to answer Wyshira's questions. "The Solar Templars are the highest ranking Order of holy knights here in Adbar. The Dawn Guard rival us for prestige, but they perform a very different role in the defense of our nation. I was a Sunbringer knight before I was offered a place within the Templars."
"We are, well, just elite warriors; our training and faith gives us some further blessings from Solanthar as well. We're generally dispatched to wherever the Church hierarchy feels we are needed." He smiled. "In this case I've been assigned to guard Inquisitor Latorath; he's one of the most respected and wise members of the Inquisition, and it's an honour to be given such a duty, I have to say, even for a Solar Templar."
More like a no-yield job. Kale thought cynically. The 'honorable' armsman position may take may well be critical and high-profile, but it was also deadly and thankless. Successfully protecting the charge was a matter of course, while any failure meant hell to pay. No real reward, huge risks. Anyone taking high-profile guard duty was either crazy or very dedicated, and often very good. He's badass, no doubt about it, Kale concluded.
Modest, but proud... still, not a zealot in the brainwashed sense of the word, Kale assessed of the Templar. Evant may be a level-headed fellow, but his charge could be far different. Famous for the purges of the recent past, the Sun God's Inquisition could never be viewed in a bright light, as far as Kale was concerned. Not knowing who was involved with Pendarme or why with regard to Burl, he would just as rather not meet Latorath the Great.
Kale sipped his drink, pondering a subtle exit. Fine upstanding skull-splitter he may be, Evant was still a servant of the church, but Kale wondered what the Inquisitors would do to Burl if they discovered who he was.
Hmm.. Kale frowned a bit, taking a gamble on Evant's modesty. He was curious for the man's take on the Inquisitors and the church's factions. "I imagine it takes a bit of a strong stomach, trafficing with Inquisitors," Kale observed neutrally after Evant mentioned the honors. There were all sorts of rumors about what the Inquisitors did, and while Kale believed little, he felt the overtones were well enough grounded in truth for the Solar Templar to defend and justify what his charge does...
Not really rude, but certainly not a polite thing to say. He can chalk it up to ignorance if he wants. I need to know if we need to be running for the hills before this Latorath fellow comes walking into the tavern...
Kale's comment about needing a strong stomach to traffic with Inquisitors snapped Wyshira out of her lax and talkative mood. What does Kale know about Inquisitors that I don't? He seemed to have a negative opinion of them, that was obvious. She had asked Evant to explain about them, but he had rather neatly sidestepped the question, hadn't he? Maybe he just figures that everyone knows what an Inquisitor is. But I don't! I wonder if Kale is trying to warn me to be more careful...
I'd better keep a clear head, she thinks and pushes her unfinished ale away from her. She straightens in her chair and begins to watch the Templar for any sign that he may be setting them up for something. I think I am getting to be way too paranoid!
Burl was glad to see that the Templar accepted his offer of another round, Good, keep him drinking and thinking of anything but me. But then Kale went and did it, brought up the Inquisitor and his business. Shrinking into his glass of wine, Burl listened carefully, but avoided eye contact. Well, I wonder what I’ll do if he mentions that they are looking for a necromancer.
Spotting Wyshira push away her mug of ale, Burl decided it was as good a time as any to retire to his room. “Gentlemen, it has been a very long day and I think I am going to head up to my room and turn in.” Turning to Wyshira, “Good night to you also. Shall we meet down here in the morning?”
Burl got up from the table, gathered his things and headed upstairs for the evening.
Excellent, Kale thought as he saw Burl excuse himself. He didn't want to leave the mage out of his sight, but being out of sight was perhaps the best thing for him. The young mercenary was sorry to have upset the lad again with mention of the Inquisitiors, but he had to take steps to get an idea of what they were in for, lest a completely unknown threat walk right through the tavern doors, much like had happened just nights before.
Upon recieving word that a bath was ready for her upstairs, Wyshira said a hasty good night to all that were left at the table. Her aching muscles longed for a relaxing soak in a tub full of blessedly warm water. As an after thought, she grabbed her half-full mug to take with her.
"Take your time," she said to Kale with a wink. He knew by now how she loved to linger over her bath. She wondered how much time she would have, and hurried up the stairs to find her room.
Evant nodded a good night to the two retreating mercenaries, slightly bemused. "Are they alright? They seem slightly on edge about something."
"Oh, Burl? He's slightly on edge about everything, and as for Wyshira, just don't get between her and an inviting body of water..." Kale said of the Ishrak priestess- Evant was sure to know her creed, and maybe even her species. Regardless, their behavior was 'absolutely nothing to worry about'...
Evant shrugged and turned his attention to answering Kale's question. "A strong stomach? I'm not quite sure why you think that to be true..." he said amusedly. "Master Inquisitor Latorath is most adept at piercing layers of lies and falsehoods without any need to resort to any sort of torture," he said with slight distaste at the word. "The Inquisition are good men, and skilled at their task of protecting the Church from evil influences as well."
They talked for some while about the Inquisitors, revealing Evant's high opinion of the organisation. It seemed that there were many sects and factions within the Church, but the Inquisition remained above that and answered only to the highest ranks of the ecclesiastic hierarchy. They also took it as an extremeley serious task to defend Adbar from insidious influences that might threaten the secular ruler, ensuring that Church and state influences meshed.
At the moment, Evant assumed Latorath was still out questioning people. They'd captured a werewolf earlier in the day, a psychotic woman they'd been trailing for two weeks by the dead bodies she'd left littered in her wake, and eventually found her here - where she'd hidden with her family until they rooted her out. The woman had assumed a wolf-like form and killed three soldiers before the Solar Templar had stepped in and attacked her with holy energies, leaving her subdued and badly burned; they currently had her caged. She kept on gibbering to herself, as if completely insane, and her family had affirmed that she'd seemed crazed when she came to them, although coherent enough not to attack her own kin even in her psychosis. It seemed that this woman, a weaver who worked in a town to the north-east, had not shown any signs of lycanthropy before now.
Apparently she seemed to mutter to herself all sorts of odd things, that the Inquisitor had a scribe noting down to see if they could piece together any sense from her ramblings.
Evant had no idea when or where Latorath might be, except that he assumed the Inquisitor would be at the lodgings they'd been provided with when tomorrow morning came.
Far from taking offense at Kale's question, he had answered earnestly about his beliefs- he had nothing to hide. To the young mercenary, Evant, Latorath, and the ever-blessed Church began to look more like a potential ally than a potential enemy.
Kale could never imagine the Solanthar folk allied with the Toranites, but what if they had their own motives on the mage? Kale had always assumed foul play on the part of Pendarme, wishing to squeeze the truth out of Burl by sending him to the bloody inquisitors. It had never ocurred to him that they may have wanted to get to the bottom of the ork-attack issue just as he did. Yeah, right. So the Inquisitors aren't a bunch of thumb-screwing tongue-looseners. They've still got their own agenda, and so does Pendarme... And so did 'a small family in House Irilson'- the people that hired Wolf and Company.
Piercing layers of lies and falsehoods- I could go for a big dose of that skill. His musings continued as Evant detailed recent news of a captured lycanthrope and her crazed ramblings. Seems the Inquisitors did a good job of taking care of the good old 'grass roots' issues of neighborhood security- Latorath, your friendly neighborhood watchman.
But cynicism aside, it was likely that the Inquisitors acted reasonably, in their stated purpose of protecting Adbar and the Church. Every organization had its dark side, but was it here? Pendarme had its darkside, yet was it in the order to send Burl to the Inquisitors? The Pendarme House was currently run by an inexperienced heir, could well-meaning naivete or yet-to-be-corrupted purpose signed the order to send Burl to the Inquisitors? No doubt, if Burl was involved in the village attack, or knew anything about it, it would rightly be in the Adbar authorities' realm to know...
Kale continued to listen respectfully to Evant, a useful fount of information that spurred much thought. Hoisting a refilled mug, he enjoyed the Solar Templar's company, hoping he'd never have to face him or his friends in battle. She was subued and badly burned, eh? Kale pondered the power of the sun god. Maybe when Wyshira gets better or holier or whatever she can rain on our enemies until they submit... Kale thought, hoping Ishrak had similar tricks.
So we don't know what Pendarme's up to, Solanthar may just be working in their own self-interest... things don't seem as sinister as they might. Yet, there are always the Toranites- what do they want? And those three in Iril who wanted Burl very dead... If Pendarme was involved with the village attacks, why wouldn't the man just order Burl killed? Kale's orc-army for the Pendarme coup of Corinthia theory was crumbling. What did they want from the mage? He was in the House for DAYS before being transferred to Adbar. He was kept alive, but someone in Iril wants him dead...
Kale continued to ponder as Evant mentioned Latorath may not be in until late. All the questions in his mind left the mercenary almost wishing for an Inquisitor to get to the bottom of all this.
"Gods!" Kale began irreverantly, before giving Evant an apologetic glance, "It seems the Church has its hands full, managing out here in the Drakath. Werewolves and undead and bad harvests- 'least you don't have to spend all day weaving politics..."
They continued to talk for some small while, Evant providing Kale with some idea of the politics of Adbar. The nation was, like the other nations of the Drakkath, somewhat akin to an island within the wilds; a burgeoning population would allow for massive expansion into the unclaimed territories around it but the aftereffects of war, pestilence and other events like the Dread March ensured that they simply lacked enough manpower to expand in such a manner. Because of this the kinds of boundary conflicts often found between nations were less, and it was on other matters that Adbar had disputes. The bulk of the waterways and access to the coastal trade routes had to be done via Corinthia, which lay to the south-east; to the east was the Khaya-Dan area of mountains, and to the north-east, hobgoblin nations blocked the way. Thus the merchants of Corinthia had a lot of economic power over Adbar, and they knew it. Killanon, to the north-west, had a number of ongoing disputes with Adbar over some small areas of fertile lands that lay in between the nations. Adbar was not really allied to anyone, and these days there seemed little need with no massive threats like the days of the Dread March. The hobgoblin tribes only really threatened Adbar of all the human nations, so they could seek no aid there.
The Solar Templar made it clear though, that the politics of Adbar were different to the politics of the Solantharian Church. Adbar might have a strong Church hierarchy within it, but the clergy of the Sun Lord outside of that country did not necessarily fall under the authority of Adbarian ecclesiastics.
Eventually the knight made to leave, the evening deepening outside. "One last thing you might want to be aware of," he said as he prepared to head off, "is that there's word of disturbances to the far west, beyond the Plain of Sorrows. Some local warlord or somesuch is uniting the area, welding together his own little kingdom; or so it seems from the rumours we've been receiving. It wouldn't be that much of a point of interest but that there's also rumour of his advocacy of the Bringer of Pestilence, Keyavek. He seems to have a large number of Scarred Ones and Pestilentials in his retinue. Be careful, since this fellow is an unknown, if he exists at all. There's no telling whats going on."
* * *
Wyshira slept the sleep of one who has ridden long and hard all day, and drunk a couple of mugs of ale before crawling into bed for the night. Her dreams were vague and sort of hazy: she was was back home, performing a sacred ritual that normally only the high priestess had the right to perform, but the motions seemed as familiar to her as sweeping out the shrine or polishing the altar bowls had been, all the years of her life. Then the dream shifted, and she was standing at the prow of a great sailing vessel, the wind whipping her hair behind her as she looked out over a vast landscape of rolling, gray-green waves. She leaped into the air, and for a moment she was flying; then she dove into the warm, salty water and it closed around her soundlessly. With steady strokes, she reached for the cool darkness down and away from the surface foam, and was pulled into its depths.
Then she woke up. Daylight was creeping in under her lashes, but the bed felt so good, at least compared to the prospect of getting back up in the saddle again so soon, that she couldn't bring herself to fully open her eyes.
No wait, she thought reluctantly. They will be looking for me. Wolf, and Kale, and Burl would be expecting her to join them for breakfast. And she still needed to ask for Ishrak's favor. She sighed and threw off the covers.
* * *
The new day rose, bringing light to the taproom of the tavern wherein the four ate a meagre breakfast, soon to head out of the village. Apart from the innkeeper and a few other patrons, there was no sign of anyone else.
Kale woke early, sheathing the dagger under his pillow while silently yawning in the morning air. Rising quietly, he donned chain, blade, and boots before even walking away from the bedstead. Checking outside the window, then approaching the door cautiously, the peace and comfort of the morning day was a foil to the necessary watchfulness Kale had learned from the wilds.
Downstairs he found Wolf already awake, of course, as Kale's eyes spoke 'good morning'. Flexing his ankles and rounding his shoulders as he walked, he looked to the views outside the windows, took in the room, and picked up a flat of breakfast fare before settling down at Wolf's table. Gulping tea and oat mash, Kale saved the slated potatoes for the end. The end wasn't long in coming, though, as he was soon left with just his cup of tea, and a relaxed morning expression.
"Some day, I'm going to discover whether or not you sleep at all," Kale said idly as he looked toward the window. Looking back to Wolf with more interest this time, he wondered aloud, "How DO you do it? I mean, late nights, early mornings... I'm going to have to learn if we're gonna keep you from becoming a zombie or something," Kale finished the last just speaking to himself.
No matter, there were plenty of things left to learn- Kale was jsut anxious to get clear of Adbar, the Drakath, everything around, so that they could regroup in a relatively safe, distant spot. Get back to business...
Wolf smiled wryly at Kale's comments. "Ah, sleep - who needs it?"
* * *
Kale, eager to be out of Adbar and away to safety, was first out to the stable. As he entered the small building though, the stench of death assailed his nostrils.
Kale's hackles rose, trying at first to convince himself that a steed or dog had simply died in the night. Approaching the stable door cautiously, hopes for simple explanations were dashed. The mercenary's blade slid quickly, silently from its sheath- Bloody hell, Kale intended no pun as he surveyed the chaos.
The stable sat silently, threat likely long gone, as Kale waited long, long moments for anything move or sound off. A faint fly's buzz was all that was heard as he moved in, enveloped by the warm, stale smell of spilled blood.
The construction held some dozen pens, six down each side compartmented off. Straw covered the floor, various instruments of the stablehands trade along with owners riding equipment arranged on hooks and on a table at the far end of the path that ran between the two rows of horse pens. Except the table was knocked over, objects scattered around, and the stablehand was no-where to be seen.
In the pens to his left and right - the ones he could see into - Kale found himself staring at the brutally eviscerated corpses of horses, slashed, torn and partially chewed, gore staining the straw red. From the puddles of blood seeping out under the gates of the other compartments it was likely that the horses in those too had met the same gruesome fate.
His senses prickled at attention, slowly walking, slowly surveying the stable. Whatever had killed those horses, Kale didn't want to face alone. Yet, if it was still here, he couldn't let it get away.
The young mercenary's mind raced, thinking how quickly Wolf could get there if needed, how he could beat a quick exit, and what sort of thing could possibly wreak such carnage. Careful of his footsteps, Kale surveyed the tracks in the stable, taking care not to misplace anything as he searched to confirm that the stable was indeed empty.
No sign of the stable boy, nothing alive at all. His mind wandered to Evant's tales of a local werewolf. Sure the woman was caught, but the blood-matted straw and limp bodies testified to something vicious and wild on the loose. With no experience with the fell creatures, Kale was happy to exit the stable and beat a retreat back to the inn.
One hand opened the inn door as the other -clacked- his blade back into its sheath. Wolf looked up at the familiar sound, and Kale walked briskly over to the man. "All the horses are dead." Kale said evenly, softly. "Mauled. No sign of the boy." 'You'll want to check it out' Kale didn't have to say.
Wyshira's morning greeting to Kale had died on her lips when she saw the look on his face. ."
It took a moment for the news to register with her. "What? All four horses dead? Mauled? How can that be? And the stable boy is gone? I don't understand."
Kale gimaced, looking about the inn to who else may have heard. As he looked up, he prayed the innkeeper was not anywhere close- very likely, it was his son, or a boy well known who was now missing.
He looked to Wyshira for one telling moment, but said nothing. There were more pressing matters than worrying about 'our inside voices'.
Next time: Part 2, and the nightmare begins...
